The Narrative of Stiggy Templeton of Greenfall Village

**The Narrative of Stiggy Templeton of Greenfall Village**

**Entry 1**

It is with the upmost excitement and, dare I say, childhood astonishment, that I received a marked and stamped letter, addressed with mine own name and delivered into my humble hand, and (appearing to be with what is assumed to be of uttermost importance) an invitation, an initiative of sorts, into a league of adventurers. It would be wise to start with an encounter of near a fortnight past in which returning to see mine dear friend, Yon-Yon, I crossed paths with a particularly fascinating Dwarven chap. Although he and I were nothing more than perfect strangers, merely coincidentally two Small Folk mind you, that just by pure happenstance came upon once another whilst journeying through what would be considered to be a particularly perilous region of the Wyrmwood. He was a Dwarf most peculiar, gruff in the ways you would expect of his peoples, yet quite inquisitive and intriguing. He spoke often of a hidden location of riches and secrets buried beneath the innards of the forests and promised if he ever found such a location, I (a humble Halfling, mind you) would be invited to share in its bounty so long as mine hands and wit carried their fair weight of the burden of acquiring such plunder.

We reached mine own hometown of Greenfall but my new friend, this lad named Steelhaven, was hellbent on continuing his search of the forest for his supposed treasure. However, no amount of well-wished optimism nor bare necessity for believing anything as miraculous as his supposed stories promised could ever find their ways into such an unassuming village such as that of mine own. But such was my mania, and as I must say again for no reason more than to make myself as clear as Halflingly possible, my immense astonishment spilled out as I received this invitation; the invitation of The Axenforge Accord. The Dwarf had found it! And just as he promised, he was inviting me to take part in the glory of its reclamation. Many members of mine own village as well as pilgrims and optimistic settlers from near and far were summoned to this call as well, and the expedition into the long-lost stronghold of Axenforge was soon underway.

I waited patiently, day after day, from sunlit morn to mosquito-bitten dusk for this new acquaintance to arrive. And on the eleventh day of staring from mine own kitchen window as a pantry cat awaits table scraps, master Steelhaven, accompanied by a caravan of settlers and adventurers arrived, and we feasted and reveled at the local Tavern, a drinkery named after my best friend since childhood. But even compared to that of a Hill Giant, these new faces and personalities were fascinating and wildly eclectic. The expedition brought noble blood from Shield’s Point and Seliana, royal blood from the sands of Emekus, a purple skinned preacher and a blue skinned gloomcaster, an imposing Dragonborn warrior and even a Half-Orc from the mountainous monasteries of Shang-Jir. It’s as if the Gods themselves had descended upon us again and granted our sleepy village a fresh start, a call to glory and adventure!

We had a bit of a rough start as we ran into trouble with a local band of thieves and mercenaries (gutter born scum, the lot of them) but defeated them and their leader with the help of a powerful wildling woman and a goblin turncoat (although, and I am ashamed to admit, I have no actual recollection of these events as I was knocked unconscious almost immediately during the first fight). But these rough-and-tumble teammates of mine lit a fire in my Halfling belly, as I’d wished for nothing more than to live a life of adventure but (aside from a few excursions into the Wyrmwood here or there to find a new and inspiring place to write) had never strayed too far out of town.

And, with great fool-hearted enthusiasm, and dare I say even more excitement than I remember on mine own coming-of-age birthday of 33, I joyously write these words in my new journal, sitting in the back of this wooden, oxen-driven cart as this new party of adventurers sits elbow to elbow. Creed and I share his pipe of rich Wyrmweed whilst Chachi rummages around in a crate of metal tools and scraps (he told me he plans on constructing a sort of metallic arm of sorts, and I assume he means to give it to the Drow girl, though I can hardly see her as the kind who would be appreciative of a gift as fine as this). The Wyrmwood looms before us as our oxen shuffle down the beaten path, and at long last, the void in my heart that oh so desperately has desired for a bigger meaning in life, seems to be filling each second as my new band of brothers and sisters find our way toward adventure.

**Entry 2**

If ever I could have prepared myself for the lunacy and outright life-threatening nature these last few days have brought, I probably never would have left the safety my fireplace and tea kettle. No sooner had we entered the deep regions of the gloom-ridden Wyrmwood that we were ambushed by a horrid battalion of filthy goblins, loosing arrows and direwolves alike to end our journey just as quickly as it began. We were even attacked by the forest itself as a huge Reaper Vine emerged from the earth and showered us with blinding pollen that made my insides feel as if I had eaten a meal so foul I would reach my organs out altogether. One of our oxen perished (bless its poor beast heart) but our team moved through the forest on foot, now separated from master Steelhaven and the rest of the caravan. But knowing the local territory, I led us through the dark wood. Mind you, the party would be just as well-off to follow that of a squirrel as my resume of exploration is hardly existent. But I held my composure, and my new companions followed on. After a few leagues of travel, we were perplexed and intrigued to find a rune-carved tower that was home to (if you can believe these words of but a humble Halfling) the ex-court wizard of King Tyrus himself, a human man named Skorros. And no sooner had we met this great figure were we attacked yet again!

After a brief Orc invasion (nothing my trusty shortsword and cunning wits couldn’t overcome) we left the old wizard (who, I must say, did so with such amazing eloquence) shrunk his tower to the size of a carrot, placed it into his own robe pockets, skinshifted into that of an owl, and flew away as if nothing had ever happened! I couldn’t stop thinking about the fantastic turn of events as mine own furry feet led our party back on track, eventually finding Steelhaven, Yon-Yon and the rest of the caravan at the long-forgotten entrance of the legendary stronghold dubbed Axenforge. A monstrous blow from the likes of my Hill Giant friend swung open the heavy iron doors as effortlessly as I might, myself, throw open my kitchen shutters to let in the morning light. When the call was made to enter the ruined fortress, I signed up to be part of the expeditionary corps.

Myself, Rolf, Kazuhara, Chachi, Gyn, Creed, Amaranth and even the cowardly Grubwick braved the dark tunnels and were soon flabbergasted to realize that the stronghold’s previous inhabitants (the Dwarven soldiers and metal workers of centuries past) were still roaming the halls as mummified undead! How grotesque the undead were! The dead men shambled forth with dry bones and howling faces of waxy skin stretched over hollow skulls, no doubt punishing us for entering their tomb of eternal damnation. But our strikes rang true once more, silencing their morbid remains. And no sooner than the last dead man fell, something happened even more shocking than undeath itself; Kazuhara’s long green manhood fell from his battle-torn trousers and Amaranth happily serviced it with her Drowish tongue! What band of filth had I allied myself with!?

This befouled tomb was a mistake to venture into. Whatever supposed treasures lied within these buried Dwarven catacombs no longer seemed worth the excitement of adventure, no longer worth the risk of being torn limb from limb by the living dead, ghoulish demons wanting nothing more than to rip the tendons off our bones and suck out the marrow from them as one would suckle the sweet honey from a fresh honeycomb. I missed the fresh winds of Greenfall, but there’s no way I could make it back home through the woods alive on mine own now. I have no choice but to press onwards.

**Entry 3**

It is a day of sorrow and heartbreak. Many grave failures and fruitless victories have befallen our quest these past few days. So much has happened in such a short time that I hadn’t the time to archive our journey. Woe betides me to even write the words, but I shall, for that of remembering the fallen as well as our attempts of victory. No sooner had our entire excavation entered Axenforge that our expeditionary corps was assigned to exploring the stronghold’s lower levels. We encountered many strange and bizarre things; many centuries-old Dwarven statues that appeared to be living beings turned stone (and one of whom Creed managed to revivify and even join our company), enormous cockroach-like vermin whose very saliva was vile enough to corrode solid steel, and (as we all had expected) more undead, this time led by the undead Dwarven hero known as Baldrike Giantsbane, now zombified like the rest of his Dwarven battalion. Most peculiar of all was a sentient gelatinous cube who befriended us and showed us to the location of the stronghold’s hidden vault.

And just as master Steelhaven had told, the vault was filled with golden coins stacked so high it was if one could swim through them! It would take hundreds of filled saddlebags to empty this plunder, and yet mine own small pockets were near to bursting with coins and gems worth at least tenfold of what I could hope to earn in the richest of a Halfling lifetime. Things couldn’t have looked brighter for my companions and I, until the faulty bridgeway spanning a dark chasm collapsed as we exited the vault. I remember falling through darkness, feeling my stomach rise into my throat as if the world itself had been yanked out from beneath my proud feet like a rug. Time seemed to slow as I heard the screams of my companions falling through the darkness around me, and I am ashamed to say I clutched towards my gold-filled pockets as I fell, as if my greed was somehow worth this folly of a quest.

As if being watched over by the Gods themselves, we fell into a deep pool and not jagged granite. I was thankful that I was pulled to the stony shore by one of my companions, and I am ashamed I known not which as I was so disoriented from the fall. The dark cavern led had strange glyphs written upon the walls, a script definitely not Dwarven in nature as the rest of the stronghold prior, but something older and more ominous. We came across more stone Dwarven “statues” (in positions of fleeing in terror, mind you) and things looked ever so grim until, to all of our astonishment, we found a statue resembling that of Rolf’s father, King Atherick Dolan of Emekus! It was revealed that Rolf’s journey to Axenforge wasn’t for riches or adventure, but to save his father who had adventured here years ago in search of something called the Earth Stone, and never returned. Creed called upon his God and we watched as the stone Atherick became flesh once more!

No sooner had the disoriented King came-to that we were attacked by horrifying serpentine warriors who were a hodgepodge of both snake and humanoid features, no two alike. We fought hard and pressed onward, eventually reaching a flooded throne room where we encountered an enemy most foul, and what I can only assume to be either the serpent warriors’ leader (or even their God), in the form of a towering giant snake. All seemed lost, Kazuhara was nearly turned to stone by the huge beast’s petrifying gaze, and Grubwick almost perished from the creature’s venom, but we vanquished our enemies and managed to retrace our steps, climbing our way to Axenforge’s upper levels once more.

What happened next can only be described as treacherous, conniving, and heartless as we realized the Dragonborn warrior, Arkhan, had plotted in secret to journey to Axenforge to steal the Earth Stone for himself. Whatever this stone was, it wasn’t in the treasure vault, but that didn’t stop Arkhan from attacking us. Unbeknownst to us, Arkhan had allied himself in secrecy with that of a powerful tribe of orcs known as the Shadowfang Tribe. These orcs rushed in through the stronghold’s entrance and began slaughtering everyone. Man, woman, and children fell as the green demons buried their spears and axes into their soft bodies. My companions and I fought hard against the traitor Arkhan and his orc allies, one of whom was particularly large and called out attacks in his orcish tongue, their war leader no doubt. We killed many orcs, but Arkhan seized master Steelhaven, for what reason I know not, and breathed his ancestral fire breath into the face of Creed, knocking him to the ground. Before any of us could rush to his aid, the huge orc leader, in a brutal display of bloodthirst and butchery, stomped his enormous boot into the chest cavity of Creed and ripped his Tiefling horns from his head, an image I cannot erase from mine own mind. And by some magic unknown to me, Arkhan (carrying the unconscious Steelhaven) and the orc war leader vanished in a flash of brilliant green light.

With heavy hearts we began to bury the dead in the forest outside the stronghold’s entrance, and it pains me more than anything I could ever wish to write, that amongst the dead was that of my best friend, the sleepy giant Yon-Yon. Oh, how my eyes welled with tears at the sight of my dying friend, breathing his last words and saying his last “Yon-Yon” to Chachi and I before he bled out to the countless spear wounds that riddled his body from head to toe. I sobbed and sobbed as we dug through the forest floor to open the graves. I was honored to write and deliver the eulogy for Creed and Yon-Yon alike, and my new friends were wrought with despair, though none as much as I. Atherick Dolan, fearful of Arkhan’s alliance with the orcs, announced he would return to Emekus to warn his people. He took the few survivors and offered to take me as well should I fear for my safety back in Greenfall, but I declined. I knew that Arkhan must be stopped, and I didn’t see myself as useful either in my Greenfall cabin or the Emekus palace as I would be alongside my team of adventurers, seeking vengeance for the fallen and attempting to stop Arkhan’s war path. As I write this, we camp beside the fresh graves of our comrades, gathering our strength, both physical and emotional, for the journey on the morrow.

**Entry 4**

These past few days have been an absolute whirlwind. No sooner had we left Axenforge that Rolf announced he knew the true location of the Earth Stone, far beneath the snowy mountain known as Icespire Peak within the Dwarven lands to the north. As we journeyed through the Wyrmwood we ran into a colossal Tortle buried beneath the earth, a being so large and ancient an Eon Tree had sprouted from his back!  Alongside this titanic being was a Half-Elf covered from head to toe in tribal tattoos, claiming to be familiar with the forest and agreeing to escort us to our destination. No more than a few hours later after following the tattooed Elf through the wood that we were attacked by the savage green dragon known as Auzerandian, a myth I’d heard throughout Greenfall and a beast Yon-Yon feared since his childhood. The green monstrosity was as big as a barnhouse and had a wingspan that would nearly spread over Greenfall in a single flap. The Accord fought hard but decided it was best to run. We took refuge in a cavern beneath the forest floor but as the enormous beast pounded upon the earth, the ground beneath us collapsed and we slid and tumbled through the dirt and darkness until we fell into cave lit by fascinating bioluminescent fungi and bizarre glowing insects. Amaranth had a rare look of joy and she described we had entered The Underdark, the enormous subterranean cavern system that honeycombed beneath the surface of Xerros, and was of course home to the Drow Empire, as well as other unsettling creatures.

We explored the glowing caverns and came upon a small cabin, and must I say I was quite surprised, and dare I say curious, to see that the cabin was built to that of Halfling proportions, just like that of mine own home back in Greenfall! The cabin was home to a fascinatingly quirky Deep Gnome named Bingus who spoke in riddles and brewed strange mixtures over his fireplace kettle. The Deep Gnome agreed to take us farther through The Underdark and what happened next could only be described as bizarre

and bewildering as well as exhilarating. Bingus instructed us all to link hands with him as well as one another, creating a chain link. He then touched a large outcropping of qurtz emerging from the cave wall and we were immediately teleported into a different cave, on the map I known not where, as if all of the quartz had some sort of network that Bingus could somehow maniplulate! We teleported here and there until we reached a cavern so large and dark I thought we were back on the surface in the dead of night. Amaranth explained we were at The Dark Lake, a massive subterranean body of water that looked as expansive as the sea itself (or as much as I can imagine what the sea may look like).

We walked along the lake’s share until we reached a wooden city built on stilts that smelled terribly of old fish. It was revealed to be the city (of which I am finding great childlike enjoyment of pronouncing) of Flooberopolis, a city of humanoid fish people who talk as if they are gargling with water. Amaranth, as usual, didn’t tell the party much but I assumed she has a previous history with this city as a few of these fish people recognized her. One of them spoke the common tongue and revealed herself to be the daughter of the high chieftain, and she was excited to explain to us that we were here just in time for the anniversary festival of their “New God”. What happened next was undoubtedly the worst idea imaginable as the fish people loaded a catapult and flung its contents up toward what I thought to be a massive stalactite hanging from the cavern ceiling above the city. To my horror, the stalactite “woke up” and revealed itself to be an enormous blob like creature, a formless mass of eyes mouths and tendrils that fell into the crowded city plaza and began dissolving the poor fish people as if it were a being made of pure acid.

We attempted to fight the horrifying monster as the fish folk escaped the plaza for their lives but as I got closer, I experienced a horrendous splitting headache unlike anything I had ever experienced in all decades of mine own life. It was as if someone had wedged a frozen mining pick through my skull and I heard a thousand voices in a thousand different tongues shrieking in horror filling my head. My companions were affected by the creature’s psychic attack as well, but none so bad as Amaranth who all but lost her mind and began attacking us! She used her powerful magic to cause explosive blasts against my teammates and I and one blast hit me so hard I thought for a moment that I would perish here, leagues beneath the surface. But Rolf slammed his enormous hammer into Amaranth, snapping her out of her state of psychosis.

Chachi nearly fended off the creature single handedly by conjuring flames against the creature, which I am happy to say was incredibly effective as the creature cowered and shriveled at the burning sphere. Now weakened, Amaranth snapped back into reality and sent a fire blast of her own magical conjuring toward the beast, melting it into a pile of hardened sludge. My brave companions and I escaped Flooberopolis as the fish folk, now angry with us for killing their God (which, I must say, is the most absurd response to having their city saved from an eldritch evil as I can imagine) attacked us with harpoon and claw, howling in strange aquan speech. My small hairy feet carried on as long as fast as I could to keep up with mine battalion, as we raced ‘round the shoreline of the great Dark Lake until we had reached the large outcropping of quartz that had led us here, and in turn, Bingus as well, there at our rescue to warp us back to the safety of his untouched fungal grove and cabin within.

It is from this cabin I write this journal entry (and quite comfortably, might I add, as Grubwick, Bingus and myself enjoy the proportions of Small Folk-sized amenities while mine other companions cram themselves awkwardly about the cabin as if they were Yon-Yon trying to fit into a room, Gods rest his soul). On the morrow, Bingus has agreed to teleport us to the cavern he believes to be housing the mythical Earth Stone beneath Icespire Peak, and our party intends to grasp hold of it before Arkhan and his Orcish allies can. I had wished for a life of adventure, and for good or bad, the Gods have answered my call.

**Entry 5**

By the grace of the heavens, we did it! The Axenforge Accord has accomplished the impossible and as I write this passage from the comfort of an armchair in the hearthroom of a Tavern in the city of Seliana, the birthplace of Chachi Stormborn! The noble adventurer himself sits here beside me tinkering with his potions pouch, happy for many reasons but sad for the loss of our friend Rolf, as we all are. I should explain.

‘Twas merely a day prior that Bingus led us accurately and truly toward an icy cavern beneath the mountain known as Icespire Peak. And behold, there it rested; a glimmering, hot-to-the-touch beautifully glowing red gem. The Earth Stone was safely locked into the huge gauntlet worn by Rolf Dolan, the prince of Emekus himself. But no sooner had the stone been acquired that we were attacked by a small scouting party of goblins, no doubt under the commands of Arkhan the Cruel himself. Our party made short work of the goblin scum but as if out of thin air, an eerie green portal opened up and through it walked gaunt ghoulish horrors dressed in threadbare rags to collect the goblin corpses. Our team followed the undead through the portal and found ourselves in a black and withered forest, and a dark and ominous tower loomed before us in the dead wooded clearing.

As we approached, we saw the tower itself was made of blackened bones of corpses and, to my horror as we entered and ascended the corporeal staircase, that many these bodies familiar faces, faces of enemies past as well as allies that died at Axenforge. Among these was the body of my dear, sweet Yon-Yon, his enormous form, even shriveled and gaunt as it was, taking up a majority of one wall of the tower’s wall. The only thing sadder than knowing mine own best friend was dead was the fact that he wasn’t in a place of rest, but rather twisted and broken by fell magic to become part of some sort of dark, ritualistic structure, and for that reason I feel responsible. When my brave companions and I reached the top of the blackened steps, we threw open a door of bones to find a huge chamber. There was a massive pulsating portal, black and slick and oily, and so massive it took up near the entire back wall. Before the black gate was a large, hunched figure standing over a stone altar. It was Krull, the Archvile, the foul necromancer of local legend and he responsible for all of this madness. In his crooked scaled hand he held what appeared to be a severed mummified arm, and the villain lectured us about how this Hand of Draxxus, the Lord of Rot, would open the black gate to return this banished Lich back into our reality using the lifeforce of this tower of the damned as well as the raw arcane properties of the Earth Stone (both of which our party unknowingly supplied him with!).

A great battle ensued, and Krull used his dead-raising abilities to have the corpse-built floor spring to life and attack us as we moved about the room. The persuasion of Draxxus from beyond the gate plagued mine own mind and convinced me to walk into the portal, to whichever hell he was banished to I know not. And if that wasn’t horrid enough, Krull released a terrible and great ally of his upon us, the zombified body of our dear companion Creed, his will enslaved by the dark necromancy. But still, we fought on! With tears in his eyes, Chachi burned the reanimated corpse of our dead Creed, leaving only charred bones. But as if from out of nowhere, who would appear but our arch-enemy, our ally turned against us, Arkhan the Cruel! He attempted to steal the Earth Stone from Rolf, but as if possessed by the Hand of Draxxus itself, Arkhan chopped off his own red arm, attached the dead hand to his bloody stump, and escaped through the Black Gate! The gate then changed from an inky black to a pulsating rainbow spectrum in a most curious fashion.

And bless her Wildling heart, Gyn at last rushed forward with her glaive and pierced the soft dead flesh between the neck and shell of Krull, violently stabbing downward and ripping to the side, tearing the dark mage in two in a flash of dust and bone. But our victory was short lived as the tower itself began to collapse, arm bones and skulls clattering to the ground which shook ever so vigorously. My companions had the crazed idea to escape through the portal, an idea most uncertain, but given our circumstance, we all leapt through the gate one and the same. Even more bizarre than when Bingus warped us through the Underdark, we seemed to dematerialize and fly through the cosmos and time itself! What an amazing and otherworldly experience it was! And then, just moments after flying about the Timescape, we landed with a crash amongst in other in a heap.

Uncertain of our location, we pulled ourselves up from the dirt and grass and blinked our eyes at the gleaming sun. Chachi jumped with joy as he looked into the horizon, glimpsing the city of Seliana, against most incredible odds, was only a few miles in the distance. But as I spoke of prior, our triumph was ended abruptly as we found the Earth Stone, but no Rolf Dolan in possession of it. We searched the hillside for near an hour but with no portal entrance on our end, we only assumed Rolf was lost somewhere in the cosmos, or perhaps was somehow trapped in the Earth Stone itself. With great caution, Chachi took possession of the Stone, and once again, I composed and recited a verse most beautiful for yet another of our own Axenforge Accord. And with that, we set off toward the city. The city is most beautiful, I must say, and the largest settlement I’ve ever seen! I could see myself relocating here and opening a new Tavern in Yon-Yon’s name where I can recite new prose each day.

**Entry 6**

Something is very wrong in this city. As I write these words, I can feel something watching us. Is it the ghost of Krull to seek revenge? Or perhaps Arkhan moving between the fabric of space, ready to assassinate us from within thin air? Maybe it was something else. As I sit here on night’s watch, as my companions slumber around me, I swear I can hear something, moving about. Something is watching us, breathing upon us. Is this place haunted? Is there something beneath our very feet? I feel as if I am going mad. I am tempted to wake my teammates to see if they feel it too. Perhaps its only a strange sickness from traveling through that damned portal.

I wonder if this strange feeling is Rolf trying to contact me through another dimension! If he can somehow see us or hear us, perhaps we could find a way to save him. I listen carefully for even the faintest breath around me. And to my astonishment, I do hear something. It is a strange sound, though not clear enough to hear its origin. Is it a song, or a voice? Is it an invisible stalker breathing down mine own neck, or even the dark influence of Draxxus as his words wriggled their way into my mind like a foul parasite?

There is the sound again! I can hear it, taunting me, yet at the same time beckoning me. Like an invitation almost! I hear it! So clear and sweet as honey! Or is it only mine own Halfling mind going mad; its mortal poisoning from the great cosmic influence of the Timescape’s warping influence? But alas, no, I am very certain of what my ears detect, a sound of unknown source and origin, to be certain, but a beckoning sound all the like. I’m compelled from the very innards of mine being to investigate, but I dare not do it alone. I must wake the others before this folly continues. I must! I must go forth and