The Story of Agravaine

Agravaine MacLear is my name and I am a Cleric of the God Brell Serilis. However, this was not always the case.

In my youth, I was trained as a warrior by my father Adarin Drendaiin and his brother Garanel Drendaiin. I spent many a day practicing with my wooden sword and shield to become a great warrior like my father had been. My father and uncle were the two great warriors of Kaladim, as my grandfather Kornic Drendaiin had been before them. They were seated on the war council of Kaladim and sat to the left and right of our King. Any time a battle was waged, they were at the front lines, killing the enemy in droves and leading the troops to victory. To my knowledge, they had never lost a battle. This was my dream, to become like they were. I too wished to be a noble warrior and lead my men to glorious victory. My future was already planned, and it was wonderful. Then one day, a wounded elf was found by one of our guards and returned to the city.
       
The best clerics in Kaladim were helpless to heal this poor elf. His fate had been sealed by some dark magics, magics that they had never encountered before. All they could do was to ease his pain before he died. I was out practicing swordsmanship with my cousin while all of this was taking place, but after the events that followed, I demanded to know the truth of what the elf said before he died. This is what my mother told me.
       
This elf was one of three elven scouts that had been sent to a mansion by the lake in the mountains. A family of elven nobility lived in the mansion, and the city of Kelethin had not heard any word from them for over a month. The family had great business dealings in Kelethin, and so it was very unusual to go a day without hearing from them, let alone a month. The Kelethin Council was becoming worried by the silence of these nobles, and so had sent three scouts to go to the mansion and see what was amiss.
       
The elves passed through the mountains without incident. The goblins had been soundly defeated only a week before, and were in hiding. As the scouts neared the lake, however, they noticed that the trees began to look sickly. At the lakeshore, all the trees had died, and all the animals had fled the area. The few animals that remained were diseased and mad with plague. The scouts had to fend off many a serpent and rat as they approached the mansion. The air grew thick and cold, and stank like a closet that hasn’t been opened in many months. When the mansion was in sight, a skeleton arose out of the lake and attacked the scouts. If not for the sharp eyes and keen ears of one of the scouts, the three would have been taken by surprise and surely slain. As the skeleton fell to the ground, the scouts noticed that the musky smell was coming from the scattered bones. Taking this to be an ill omen, the three hurried to the mansion.
       
What they beheld as they walked through the gates was too terrible that the elf was unable to speak of it himself. He just shook his head and mumbled over and over, “Dead. All Dead.” Our clerics then drugged the elf, so that he could sleep and save his strength. The elf had troubled dreams though, and he spoke in his sleep. The things he spoke of were so frightful, that the nurse who was with him was taken with fear and ran from the room screaming. The elf told of hoards of undead beings. Corpses that rose from the earth and began to move around. Humans and elves alike with no flesh walking about and preparing for battle. Victims of plague calling out in agony as they died. Little is known about what happened next, for the elf began to panic and scream in his sleep; and shortly thereafter, he died.

Our clerics think one of the beasts saw the three scouts and attacked them. It slew two of them on the spot, and pursued the third into the mountains where our guards found him lying in a field.
       
When we reported all of this to the Kelethin Council, they grew very grim indeed. They were currently engaged in a great battle with a band of orcs led by Emperor Crush. They had no forces to spare and could offer little in the manner of advise about the mansion. They only knew that the nobles there were very wealthy and had dozens of servants and their families living on the grounds. With Crush battling against the elves, they could be of no help to us. Our King called his war council together to decide what to do about the evil that had grown on the shores of our nation. Like true warriors, my father and uncle suggested that we attack the mansion before they had finished preparations for war. If we struck first, we would surely have the upper hand and defeat the evil that had taken hold of that once fine mansion.
       
Preparations for battle were made in Kaladim. The militia was called together and armed. It was a grand sight to see so many brave warriors adorned in steel and wielding sword and hammer. Clerics were sent as well, so as to heal and guard our warriors during the battle. My father came to me the night before he departed to tell me that he was going to another battle; and that he would be home by sundown the next eve. The following morn, I was glowing.

Here was my father and uncle leading a parade of armored warriors and clerics into a battle that they would surely win. As they left the gates of Kaladim, I ran into my house and took up my sword and shield. I was eager to practice my skills so that one day, I could lead the parade out of town. I woke my cousin at his house and we began to practice the skills of a warrior. I was only 14 years of age then. As the sun was at its height in the sky, we were safe inside the caves of Kaladim. I swung my sword at my cousin, and he blocked my blow with his shield as if he had known where it would land. He thrust at me, and…
       
A brilliant flash of white stabbed at my eyes. I threw my hands over my eyes, but the light persisted as if it where within my very eyes. I could not block it out of my eyes or my mind. As quickly as it had come, it was gone, but I was no longer in Kaladim. I was no longer Agravaine either. I was ethereal. I was floating in the air above my father’s head as he marched to the mansion on the horizon. I turned to see the great host of dwarves that was following my father into battle, and my heart was filled with pride. Here were assembled all of Kaladim’s finest warriors and clerics. Their skills were unmatched by any other in the city. Any force that was foolish enough to meet them in battle deserved to be slaughtered for stupidity.

As I watched my father march, the light flashed before my eyes again. Now I was hovering above something else. It was taller than a dwarf, but thinner than an elf. It was wearing chainmail and wielded a saber. It was not marching; it was hiding in a bush along the waters edge. I could not make out what it was, until it raised it’s head and looked up to where I should have been. As it looked up, I saw that it had no hair…no; it had no flesh at all! This was a skeleton hiding in ambush of our warriors! I shut my eyes in horror and the flash returned again. I was high above the lake, looking down upon the battle that was about to ensue. I could plainly see the column of dwarves coming along the shore. I could also see many shapes in the bushes and in the lake itself. There was also a much smaller column of warriors marching to meet my father. I knew that my father could not see the forces hiding in bush and water. I knew that he would assume that the small column was all that there was. I knew it, but I was helpless to do anything about it. I was doomed to watch what followed from my high vantage point.
       
The columns met at the far side of the lake. I could see that my father had marched right into the middle of the trap the evil beings had set. As my father shouted the battle cry that would begin the fight, the hidden shapes in the bushes and water sprung to the attack. They attacked the dwarven army from the rear, where all the clerics were seated. The clerics were slaughtered as if they were nothing more than goblin whelps.

The few that realized what was happening before it was too late jumped up and ran to the warriors for protection. Half of our warriors had already charged into battle with the undead army, the other half had to deal with the army that was now behind them. Our forces were split, and divided; we had not much hope of victory. When it looked as if we might win, great bats with claws and fangs began to swoop out of the sky and attack our battered warriors. My father and uncle, seeing that this was a lost battle, called for a retreat. Most of the remaining dwarven forces focused on the army to their rear and finally broke through it. My father and uncle were holding off the great host of undead as the remaining warriors fled into the mountains. There were only two clerics left, and one ran with the warriors, the other stayed with my family. As the last of the warriors ran away, the cleric cast a great spell. A purple wave spread from him, and the undead fled before it. Then my uncle and father turned and ran, the cleric followed suit. I watched them run, and sighed my relief that they had not fallen.
       
My sigh was immature, for as they ran, a final shape arose out of the water. This creature had once been a woman, I think. She had obviously been one of the first to die, and had died of plague. Her body was rotten and corroded. She had been twisted by some very powerful and evil magics. She began to move her hands about and I realized she was a spellwielder. I saw as she worked her hands, a ball of fire swell around her. At her command, the fire flew out over the lake and struck my uncle in the back. His platemail armor provided little protection from the heat, and his cloth shirt burst into flames. He roared in pain as the fire covered his body, and he began to run towards the water to put it out. Just then, roots grew up around his feet and held him on the shore, a mere foot from the cooling waters. As he fell over, the white flash returned.
       
I was now looking directly at the charred body of my uncle. I saw the undead hag float across the water to where the remains were. Then I saw a feat of magic that I have never seen again, and hope that I will never again witness in my life. Rather than just bend his body to her bidding, she captured his very soul and twisted it. His spirit rose out of his body and began to hover. It’s eyes then turned blood red and it took up my uncle’s arms and began to pursue my father and the cleric.
       
As another flash faded from my vision, I was looking at my fathers face. He was running for all his might, and I could see bruises and blood from where he had been struck with their weapons. I rose up to look over his head, and I saw the cleric running behind him. But the cleric was losing speed, for he had been wounded in the leg in the attack. Behind him, I saw the spirit of my uncle racing towards them. The cleric must have sensed the evil coming, for he stopped running and turned to face the ghost. He released the same purple wave that he had done before, but it had no effect on the evils that bound my uncle’s spirit. In desperation, the cleric turned and cast a powerful healing spell on my father. Just then, the ghost came upon him and he was dead within seconds. My father, guessing what had happened, ran with all his might. The ghost looked up from the cleric, and threw his axe across a great expanse of land to strike my father in the back.
       
The white flash returned me to Kaladim and my practice as the ghost was taking his axe out of my father. My cousins sword was still in motion and struck my soundly on the side. I screamed a terrible scream as my vision went black and I fell to the ground. I awoke an hour later with a fright. I was in the clerics hall and the remaining clerics were wondering what was wrong with me. I leapt up and told them to go into the mountains and get my father, quickly! They were skeptical as to how I came to know this, but upon looking in my eyes, they knew that I was very serious. They took some guards and ran into the mountains to look for what I had told them I had seen. They found much more.
       
Not one of the warriors had survived. Their bodies lay scattered all over the mountains. The ghost had done its job very well; it tracked down and killed every warrior that had been under its command in life. The clerics found my father exactly where I said he would be, and he was still alive. When they returned to Kaladim, the clerics did everything in their power to try to heal his wounds. He had been smitten in the back and was going to die, nothing they could do could prevent that from happening now. My mother sent me home and told me to stay there, but I couldn’t leave my father. I stood outside the Cleric Temple and peeked in a window. I watched my own father wither away and die within an hour.
       
I told the people of Kaladim what I had seen in my vision, and they laughed at me. I was a warrior in training, how could I have seen this with no spiritual training? Furthermore, how could I have seen all this in the time it took my cousin to swing a sword? I was ridiculed by the learned and went home in shame. No one knew the truth of what I had seen. I had seen ultimate evil at work, it had killed many people that I knew and loved. I had watched it all happen and no one believed me. That night after the town was asleep, I rose and kissed my mother goodbye.       

I wandered for months. I took boats and walked across vast expanses of terrain. I knew not where I was going, or what I hoped to find. I only knew that I could not go back to Kaladim as I was. I had not completed my training as a warrior, so I was very vulnerable. One day in my travels, I can upon a cave that very much resembled my home. I walked into it only to find that it was inhabited by a race of dog people. I knew that this would be my end. They all had great fangs and were armed with weapons rusty with age. I began to run out of the cave and hope for the best. As I emerged, I tripped over a rock and fell to the ground. I rolled over to see the dog men coming close to me, and I shut my eyes, I was preparing to join my father.

I heard a great howl and the running of feet. I opened my eyes to see a very tall looking man standing over me with a great sword in his hand. One of the dog beasts lay dead at his feet. This giant of a man took me in his arms and carried me to his home. His land was covered in ice and snow, and it was so very cold. I was very weary and so I fell asleep in his arms. When I awoke, I was in a hut made of straw and lined with great white furs. A very tall woman was standing over me and rubbing a leaf over my forehead. I awoke again to find a different woman looking at me. She spoke in an accent I had not heard before, “Aye lad, you be a wee one eh?” she said with a smile. I asked where I was, and she told me I was in the city of Halas. I had never heard of this city, and it seemed to be populated by giants. I was scared, and began to cry.

This woman comforted me and asked me what was wrong. She was the first person to show any compassion to me in months, and so I told her everything. I told her of my home, of my family, of my visions, everything. She was amazed at my story. She had never heard of a dwarf! What kind of a barbarian was this!?

When I told her of the evil magics, she became very interested. She told me of a similar conflict that her people had with evil a long time ago. A man with a black aura came to their lands many generations ago. He slew dozens of their warriors and then animated their bodies to fight for him. This was exactly what I had been looking for, knowledge. She had great knowledge about this Twisted One as she called him. She also knew much about the art of healing. After a while, I asked her name, “Shatara” she said, with another of those brilliant smiles.

I spent many months with her and her people learning the ways of healing from them. I also learned all I could about this Twisted One. I wanted to find him and kill him for all the grief he had caused my new friends and my old family. I learned that blunt weapons crushed bones, and that a certain sort of spell was very effective against the undead.

After I had learned much of their ways, I decided to return home to my mother and my people. I had learned much from Shatara and her kind. I said farewell to Shatara and to Wolfdor, who had saved me from the gnolls, and departed. Wielding a new hammer, shield, and elementary magics, I began on the long journey homeward.

When I returned, Kaladim was in an uproar. I had been gone for two years, and I had returned. I was thought long dead, and yet here I was. I came and taught the clerics of Kaladim what I had learned from these peoples. I learned the ways of blunt fighting from the warriors, and the ways of magics from the clerics.

As I was training, I vowed that I would return to that mansion and destroy the undead that had given it the name “Unrest”. I would avenge my father and the other slain dwarves that had given the mountains the name of “Butcherblock”. I would slay my uncle’s ghost and free his spirit. After that, I would seek out and destroy this Twisted One so that he could harm no other being ever again.

That is how I became the dwarf I am today. I have a vow to uphold, and I will fulfill it or die trying. I took on the name MacLear in honor of the barbarians that saved my life and taught me so much in my youth. I am Agravaine MacLear, dwarven Cleric of Brell Serilis, and I will be avenged on the Twisted One.

Later...

Darkness all around. The rank smell of rotten meat. Blackness pierced by lightning. The bodies and blood. The torn banner and the split shields. The blackened skeletons. Soft laughter, rising to boom in ears. Laughter so loud it hurts. So loud head is ready to burst. Red eyes in the dark. Looking at me. Looking through me. Lightning flash from the sky. Lightning piercing my body. Ground open under my feet. Fire belching from the rent ground. Body on fire. Burning. Burning. Laughter splits ears. Red eyes in the dark. The torn banner.

I hit the floor with a low thud. This dream was the worst so far. They had been tormenting me for months now. Each night getting more desperate. The furs on my bed were dripping with sweat, and my nightclothes might have just been washed in the well for the cold and damp in them.

I summoned a flask of water and drank of it thirstily, then another. When the second flask was finished, I held it in my hand for a while, studying it. A fire came into my eyes as a grimace overtook my face. I threw the flask across the room, it shattered on the opposite wall, sending shards of glass sprawling across the floor. I went to my battle chest and very nearly tore the lock from the wood in my haste to open the thing.

In all my years, I had never armored myself so quickly. Straps and buckles were tightened and my armor fit like a second skin over my own. The metal was cold to the touch, but I was boiling with my own thoughts.

After I had strapped my hammer to my side and my shield to my arm, I reached down into the chest one last time and removed a small silver medalion. Nothing set this medalion apart from any other except this one bore the crest of a house of Kaladim. I slipped the medalion over my helm and tucked it into my coat of mail.

I reached down and pulled out a familiar object. No other MacLear had ever seen this item. It was a dagger. More than a dagger, it had been made in a dwarven forge from a strange metal found in the mines. Very few such blades had been made, and none of them had ever left the hands of dwarves. It was hilted with silver and it gleamed as if in the sun even when it was in the darkness. A saphire was set in the hilt at the base of the blade and dwarven runes were etched into the blade with gold. The blade was given to me by my father before he left for his battle. He told me it had been given to him by his father when he was ready to begin his training as a warrior. I had worn it into every battle I had ever taken part in, tucked into my belt and under my mail coat where none could see. When I wore it, I always felt closer to him. Always felt as if he were there with me, guiding me.

I held the dagger in the light, remembering the pride in his eyes when he had handed it to me as he left our house that day. Remembering the look in his eyes as he lay in the Temple surrounded by clerics. That blank look of one who has seen true terror and fear. The look of a man without a soul. The look of a man dead on the inside.

I gripped the dagger in my hand and my knuckles whitened with the force of it. I quickly penned a note on a parchment. I left my chamber and closed the door behind me. I held the note on the door and thrust the dagger through the parchment and deep into the wood of the door.

A guard making his rounds came down the hallway as I stabbed at the door. He came up as if to ask what I was up to but stopped short when I turned my gaze to meet his. My eyes blazed as a furnace and chilled as a glacier at once. They burned with a pain many years old and never tended to, and they froze with determination and a sense of the highest duty.

The guard stopped dead in his tracks. Though the man was easliy twice my size, he looked at me as if I were Vox herself come from Permafrost to find him. He turned and started off back down the hall almost at a run. I don't know what he was afraid of. My business was not with him, not with any man or beast living.

When the guard was out of sight, I closed my eyes and a faint glow surrounded me. The air crackled and sparked and I vanished into the night.

I appeared in the mountains of Butcherblock. It was the place I had been bound as a child. One never forgets his first binding. I turned away from the massive statue and the bonfires that marked the entrance to my childhood city. I headed into the night to meet my fate and find my destiny. I had a score to settle.

Next morning when I failed to show up for breakfast, the note and dagger were found in my door. The note was plain and informal, it read:

I have gone on a journey that I must make alone. Please do not follow me for the dangers be greater than any story makes them out to be. I go to meet my fate, and to seek my destiny. I go to complete a vow I made long ago and have neglected for far too long. If I do not return, have this dagger sent to Kaladim. The guards will know who it is from and who to give it to.

It was easy to tell when you neared that foul place. The earth was dead for miles around it in all directions. No tree or grass would grow, not even weeds, the taint was so strong. The low green hills gave way to jagged crags of rock as I drew closer to the lake, closer to the mansion.

The lake was still and stagnant. The few fish that managed to survive in it were unfit to eat. Anything that bathed in the water became diseased and crazed, even the rats.

As I made my way along the shores of the lake, I came upon a camp of aqua goblins. Even these foul creatures were twisted by the taint of the mansion, less than a mile away. I gave the camp a wide birth, for I had no time to play with goblins. The excited, gutteral shriek behind me told me that I had not given them a wide wnough birth, and that I would soon have to do battle with the goblins.

I spun around to find the first of the creatures nearly upon me. Apparently it had been looking for a cauldron rat to eat and had spotted me instead. I quick glance past this first goblin showed four others running at me from their crude tents. Having little recourse left to me, I unsheathed my hammer and readied my shield.

The first goblin closed the gap between us with such speed that I was taken a little aback. But my shock was of little avail to the creature. It was a young goblin, and as such it's first blow was clumsy, to say the least. I casually stepped aside, letting it's blow strike at the air and throw the insulent goblin off balance. As it staggered to regain it's footing, my hammer fell across the nape of it's neck. The deep thud and sickening crack told me I had nothing more to fear from this goblin.

I turned my attention away from the green corpse to the four other goblins who were charging at me. Their stride broke when their companion fell, but only for a moment. Howls of rage and anger gave them new resolve as they quickened their pace. My eyes searched for the largest of the goblins, and upon finding it, locked onto my next target.

I began to chant an incantation that I knew by heart. Clerics should never have cause for this particular spell, but my path had called me to use it far more than I would have wished. My hands wove in ancient symbols of the dwarven people and my eyes began to glow a faint whilte. I called out to my god Brell. Called for him to give me the power and the strength to vanquish those who would see me slain. My answer came as a tingling feeling in my hands. I whispered a prayer of thanks as I pointed at the biggest of the goblins and the glow in my eyes turned from white to a dull red.

Where my finger pointed, the air grew dry and charged with power. The goblin slowed it's pace as it felt the air around it change. It's eyes grew wide as it's expression changed from rage to wonder to absolute terror. The spells of a cleric are not of water or fire or ice. The spells a cleric uses are of light, pure and crisp. The flash of red light seemed to burst from within the goblin. It's scream echoed off of the bare, jagged rocks of the cauldron and mingled with the boom and crack of the spell striking home. When the flash of light faded away, all that remained of the goblin was a pile of grey dust.

The other goblins lay about on the ground. None of them were injured, but the flash of light and sudden crack of power had frightened them to their wits ends. One of them managed to get to it's feet and take a look about. It saw it's fellows scattered about on the floor, and the pile of dust, and took off running back the way it had come, yelping with fear.
The others remained on the ground, scared to move.

As much as I would have loved to remain and slay the others, I had little time to spare, and I had already used too much power on these hateful spawn. My duties took me further down the lake shore.

I left the goblins behind me, as i knew they would not trouble me or any other passerby for a long while to come. In the distance stood the mansion that I had traveled so far to come to. The clouds hung thick and black over the mannor, allowing not the slightest hint of sunshine through. The mannor was set in a valley in the jagged mountains and was walled off from all sides. The only way in was from the front, through a tunnel.

I approached the tunnel entrance with much caution. Nothing moved this close to the mannor, even the rats shied away from this place.

The tunnel was empty. At it's end, it let out into a courtyard. It had once been a beautiful sight to behold, gardens and green lawns, the fountains running with crisp clear water. Now everything was dead. The grasses of the lawns were greyed and dry. The water of the fountains were dark and of a color that seemed part red with blood and part brown with decay.

Beyond the fountains were mazes of hedge on either side of a paved walkway. The walkway led to a great wooden porch and the huge oaken doors of the front entrance to the mannor. Lightning flashed in the sky and illuminated the great wooden tower looming over all the mansion grounds. This was the place from my dreams...

This was the place from my dreams! I had come to the end of my journey. Now I had but to finish my task, had but to destroy the evil that had corrupted this place and avenge my father his death.

Memories drifted back to me all too slowly. This WAS the place from my dreams. In fact, this was the exact spot I had always stood when I... I dove to one side as the very earth belched fire and lightning fell from the sky upon the place I had just stood. As I flew through the air, I glanced up at the tower towards the blood red eyes I knew I would see there.

I had escaped death, but I had not escaped the blast unharmed. A bit of the fire had licked over my left leg. It should have been a few singed hairs at the most; but the burning pain that tore at the spot told me that had been no ordinary fire. The wizard that cast it had been powerful in life, and the unnatural death had augmented that power, and twisted it. The taint of the evil was stronger than I had imagined; the burn was growing, as if I held my leg in a furnace.

I crawled behind the hedges, out of eyesight with the tower. Every healing spell I had ever learned came to mind. The burn was not very large, but it was growing with increasing swiftness. I chose to use Greater Healing on it. instantly the burn halted it's progress, and the pain softened, but the burn remained. None of the spells healed the burn, and the pain did not go away, it only diminished to a dull throb.

I pulled myself up onto my feet and tested the leg. Putting weight on it still made the burn rage with pain. It would make walking difficult indeed, but I had to go on. I had come this far and I would not fail in my task, it was far more important than the burn. I cast a spell to shield me from undead eyes, and my skin tingled with a crisp coolness. Focusing my mind, I was able to ignore most of the pain. I was still aware of it of course, but it seemed distant.

I made my way towards the house. Not knowing anything about it, I decided to use the front door. No one suspects an attack from the front, not even the dead. The door creaked open and I limped through with as much caution as I could. To either side of the door were small rooms, probably coatrooms from when the mansion was still thriving and alive. Now they housed creatures from beyond death.

To the right was what appeared to once have been a goblin. It "stood" with a deep crouch, it's knuckles would have touched the floor if it had not been holding it's arms out, ready to pounce on anything that tried to enter. Skin that once was green was brown and blackened with rot. Parts of it peeled back to reveal grey muscle. A dull yellow glow came from it's hollow eyes. Those eyes revealed no awareness at all, this creature had become the puppet of some greater power.

The invisibility spell was working as it should have. The creature didn't move at all even when I stepped into plain sight. The mummy to the left made no move to stop me either.

Now I was inside the mansion, but I had no clue where to go. I knew there were many floors to this place, but where was the evil I was looking for? Passageways opened to both sides of the front door. "Left." The thought came and went with such speed that I had to assure myself that I had it at all. Somehow, the thought was not my own. It was in my head, but I had not made it. It came with a sense of urgency, but no malice was in it. I turned left and took that corridor.

Doors stood shut on my left side, and an open entryway on the right side of the hallway led into a larger room. I started down the hallway, waiting for another thought to come to me, waiting for the ambush the strange thought could have set me up for.

No thought came and I neared the opening to the larger room. Inside that room stood another mummy and a skeleton bleached white with age. Cruel iron hooks hung from rusty chains from the ceiling and a staircase ran up to the next floor. I turned to go up the stairs, after all, I had seen the red eyes in the tower. "Left."

I turned to my left and found a closed door. I opened it was great care, and limped inside. Another skeleton stood in this room, it's bones drowned with dirt and blackened by fire. It made no attack. "Right." I stood staring at a bookshelf. Other thoughts came to me, "Up." "Down." "Right." My hand touched a book that had once been bound in red leather. The leather was cracked and the red was faded to brown. "There." I tugged at the book and it clicked. The shelf swing inwards and a dark passageway opened behind it.

I held my shield as if to block some great blow, but none came. My knuckles were white for my grip on my hammer. I gathered my wits and took a drink from a bottle of ale I took from a drunken fire goblin in a cave above a volcano. It made it easier to focus my thoughts and a calm came over me. I hobbled into the passageway, down into the darkness...