Mon 7th Sep 2020 11:19

Entry 13 A discourse on Lore, Lions, and Law

by Vaz

We wake, safe and dry. Master urges us to search for records in this hall of Justice.
 
The servants of the tree - garden and new life, the other ushering out the rot, dealing with the end of the cycle, the Earth hugger tells us this was started by Endursaga.
 
We learn much about this land from their taxes, Master tries to piece together the lands, rulers, and history of these lost peoples. This one knows of an old fued, where soft skins bred their males in luxury. Zeenikeef of the Last Laugh... quite the title, either clever or funny.
 
Seems we traveled the path between crowns, to keep us safe from the struggles internal to this land.
 
 
 
Princess Savara Jinda North ward - made everyone shrooms
 
Prince Kal'Adarpan East ward - Wisdom - made everyone clones
 
Rektatma Kahoon - Blood (Southwest Quadrant) - blood magic
 
Princess Neermatta West Ward - Artifice - souls were moved into constructs
 
 
 
Master finds a locket to hide our spear within, to hide from magical vision, a clever move this.
 
Master wishes to bypass the blood ward and make our way to the West Ward, home of the soul trapped machines.
 
* Felidar
 
It seems I have gained a tail, must have been to comfortable a sleep for my mind to wander so far. Though it seems to not to need to hide, and gives its position, it knows I am there are that I see it, these beast is regal. It's head moves like that of an owl, this creature is hunter not hunted.
 
Felidar explains he is bound to the house of Law but has lost his armor, lost to imps.. he shows us towards the blood ward.
 
Eventually we come across a suit of armor in the middle of the road, standing at attention. Master tells it we do no harm, so it escorts us to Neermatta, the Princess of gears.
 
This zone, though odd seems to carve and create to make better the land which was laid to waste. Seems all creatures were treated equally under this effort. Though seems this has not gone so well, he calls himself footman, a name being to painful, though this is odd as knowing what you are can mean so much. Smooth skins are so odd.
 
* Monolith Footman
 
They are all so productive, but they do not seem to have so much meaning.
 
Master tests them by summmoning a rat, it does not sit well with these armors, my teeth are faster than this poor snack. The footman tells of his Princess, reforging all life to survive from the Advesary's taint, he is a poor servant divulging all their secrets so quickly.
 
As we approach these machines become more extravagent and elaborate, but again Footman says they are copies of the original creation. The Princess can create, but seems not capable of passing it down, though their memory remains. I see now of their sadness. As we approach this is a fotress of ever watching, there will be no way out without wits.
 
Tesadre, emissary of Neermatta. Our Footman leads us to him... gold and porcelein, but his chest is flesh, seemingly merged with this machine. His heart is a shard from the ebon blade. He carries a thin blade and is a nemisis of the blade, a challenge