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Lacrima's Library

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1 Lacrima's Library on Sat Nov 15, 2008 12:26 am

[Lacrima is a Lore Keeper, a traveller as a result. She travels around the world and records the tales of individuals to carry them to other lands perhaps to spark a dark night after a long siege; especially for children. As children are the natural and most innocent victims of war.

Travelling a lot, Lacrima may end up leaving her journals here and there and can be found by travelers. If you follow them, you may meet the most interesting people, or hear the tales that were unheard until you hear them.]

(The previous pages have been ripped off) the sea brings the scent of war to the Moonlight Tower; my eyes caught something at the side of the bench where we used to sit and listened to the tales of the ancient. It was shining through the short and thick leaves of the bushes nearby.

It was a precious flask; The flask is clearly one of a kind, lovingly crafted by a master hand. Its' delicacy took my mind off the ongoing war. As I studied it closer I noticed an ornate engraving dances between the gold and jeweled exterior: Care of MB, esquire. I smelled the precious flask; my mind filled with various thoughts; of whom this could belong to, what it contained...a strong smell of ale filled my nostrils. The scent brought me all the way to Ekrund to my dwarven friend whom I was a guest in a feast he hosted in the Redhammer Brewery.

The pub owner recognized me luckily and offered his help. I was not expecting much out of it until he brought the flask to the table which was almost the identical twin of the precious flask I possesed. He rubbed his beard and told me to wait if I wanted to find more about the flasks and their makers as the Orcs were almost breaking in from next door.

Until this moment my mind was drifted off from the war, like a toy to a child these flasks had been to me. Alas, war was getting more and more bloody; I waited with patience as I helped the sister rune priest in the pub to aid the wounded soldiers.

As the lanterns' oil was running out the howling of the orcs and quick footsteps of snortlings died down, my new-made friend sat by me wiping his sweat off his forehead with the back of his dirty counter-towl. He gently pushed the flasks to me again this time I could study them. The unique gromril flask is adorned with jewels and trimmed with filigree. There are a few words etched into the metal on the flask that read: Care of MB, esquire.

He tapped his short and chubby fingers onto the table as I studied the flask and spoke to me with his hoarse voice that was an outcome of years of smoking tobacco and drinking the strongest ale "You wanna know about the M.B. lass ?"
I nodded still mesmerized without taking my eyes off of the flasks.

He leant forward the strong scent of brew embraced me and the flasks as he almost whispered "Mordren Bitterstone was one of the most well-traveled Dwarfs of the age before he met his mysterious fate, and evidence of his adventures can be found all over the Old World and beyond."

As I lifted my eyes to seek out more answers from the old dwarf, the bells started to toll; it was time to evict the Tavern which used to be a Station; as the orcs were forming outside only enlarging in numbers.

Someone yelled somewhere before everything blackened out for me "Ekrund is goin' to fall! Run fer ye lives!"

(The last page is covered in ale and is sticked to the back cover)

* I am basically going to put down what I find let it be exploration or pursuit, or the odd easter egg you might have missed out. I didn't want to deciper the ToK just like Wiki or Alakazam. So if you'd rather read them and follow the clues than go to coordinates x;y - pick item A and talk to NPC B you should follow up this thred. Also the bold bits are exact description from the game word by word.

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2 Re: Lacrima's Library on Sun Nov 16, 2008 5:51 pm

(As you answer the aid from New Emskrank you stop by the Grey Lady Coaching Inn for some ale and warmth, a glitter behind some crates catches your eye - you recognize the Elvish Emblem on the cover, you turn the first page of what it seems to be a tome, you let the familiar hand writing to tell you its tale )

I finally managed to land safely, these dwarven gadgets seems to be more and more unstable these days. The Battle of New Emskrank seems to be a very unforgiving one. Especially behind the front line. We have to work for hours sometimes seems like days, noone can sleep anyway with so many wounded combatants moaning in pain - there is only one doctor in the region and everyone else that can help out is doing their best.

As I was having a chat with the merchant in Breur's Regiment earlier, that familiar beauty caught my eyes. Yes! It was another one of them. Standing on top of some crates, waiting for me, waving to me. It took away all my exhaustion as it was identical as the other ones in my possession bejeweled and glowing gold in the light, the flagon is obviously priceless. A rich design playing across its side marks its owner : Care of MB, Esquire.

I rushed back to my room in the Grey Lady Coaching Inn where i had my trunk and i placed it next to the other two - as I am writing these lines the tripplettes are sitting on the table infront of me, in their glory; each container is remarkably simliar to its fellows, with even the small dents in the sides falling in the same places. The inscription is the same on each, as are the jewels. The gold workings on each are extraordinary, each a strong Dwarf ore meant to hold a proper oath.

Last edited by Lacrima on Mon Nov 17, 2008 6:52 pm; edited 3 times in total

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3 Re: Lacrima's Library on Sun Nov 16, 2008 6:34 pm

(As the sweet flavor of the ale fills your mouth and the chatter in the Inn provides you the temprorary secure feeling you turn the page)

Even though it has been months I am residing on Empire Lands, I still am a stranger to their customs. The battle in New Emskrank has taken a turn in favor for the Order. Their loss never will be reimbursed, however their small victory seemed to lighten up their mood. And some of the folks got on with their lives. Alas the wounded combatants left their beds to the villagers who have encountered plague.

As for me, it is time to take my leave. So I decided to pay a visit to the merchant to buy some sweets for tonight, as I am planning to move on to the next village, so I will tell the children of this village my last tale.

There was a group of men which seems to be a group of witchhunters; one of them spoke to his followers that caught my attention : Hunting heretics in back alleys is all well and good, but every once in a while you need to resort to the tried and true method of rounding up and old-fashioned lynch mob.

I noticed a very frightened peasent after this talk. I believe it was his heresay from early morning. It was troubling indeed for him. The guy could barely talk now as the group approached to him. May Isha bless him. I noticed the leader of the group was talking to me now : Infestation; There is no other name for it. Your bartender, your fishmonger, even your baker might be a foul servant of Chaos. Your assistance may have stemmed the tide here, but if the corruption is to be stopped, more drastic measures will have to be taken.

Of course it was an ackward situation for me. I head back to Grey Lady Inn to pack my things. I noticed the same group had approached here before I did. And was interogating another frightened peasent infront of the Inn. It seems the heretic problem is more widespread than first imagined. To have two villages filled with blasphemers and cultists living so convincingly among the loyal citizens of the Empire is most troubling!

Of course this is not the only thing I learnt from these people; I met a Sister of Mercy earlier and she infromed me about her beliefs; Shallya is a the Goddess of healing, compassion and mercy, and all acts of kindness are said to be done in her name. Among the most common of her symbols are a dove in flight, and a white heart bearing a single drop of blood.Shallya's clergy is comprised primarily of women, known as Sisters of Mercy. These brave soulds spend their lives tending the wounded and the sick. They are rarely seen on the field of battle, for the followers of Shallya cannot take another life. To do so would mean explusion from the order.

I met the Sister in Doctor's tent earlier. As she was carrying a crate of food from Breur's Regiment to the tent. The tent where the sick are being tended; plague has begun to sweep across the Empire, striking down all in its path. Doctors, chirurgeons, and herbalists have yet to find a method to combat the raging sickness, and the people of the Empire are turning to more traditional forms of dealing with the spreading disease.

The sick are turned out of their homes and villages, and in their larger cities, houses are boarded up with the plague victims still inside. Unspoken is the fear that if the plague continues to spread unhecked, the Empire will fall to sickness before the Chaos hordes ever reach Altdorf.

The people of the Empire are good and bad, cowardly and brave. It is only in this time of war that some rise to find their inner nobility and generosity of spirit.

Yesterday for example, I saw some farmers with their pitchforks killing pub rats behind the inn. The Grey Lady Coaching Inn seems to have been freed of the verminous invaders for now. Where there is grain, though, there will always be rodents. In calmer times, the properitors of inns and taverns have been known to make use of cats and other small animals to keep the rats at bay. With food in such short supply, that is no longer a possibility.

And of course there was the young girl in her early teens carrying a bucket full of water all the way from the well infront of the inn to almost the next village where on the side of a road a wounded Griffon Soldier. The life of a soldier can be harsh and glorius by turns. For those green troops who have just joined the Order of the Griffon, their first season may well be their last. It is a well known and broadly accepted fact that the majority of new soldiers serve as cannon- and arrow-fodder for the enemy. Only the exceptionally talented (not to mention lucky) can hope to emerge from their first few engangments unscathed.

Ah, I can hear the children outside now, they must be coming together around the well to listen to the last story I have for them.

I don't want to leave anything behind now. What good use of me writing these tomes if i keep on losing them. Maybe this is the way Gods want. At least I hope they don't fade away and is read and tales of these people are to be told.

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