-- 11/1/6067 -- Millennia ago, the Demon Wars had raged across the face of the world as the forces of darkness had tried to spread their domain into the land of mortals by sheer might. After many years of war and destruction, the armies of the underworld were vanquished and banished from the world, although some of their number remained, hidden in the deepest and darkest of caverns and mines, relying on more subtle means of gaining power in the land of mortals. Many of the inhabited lands and great nations of the world had been destroyed in those wars. The southern lands had once been the heart of a vast civilization that had fallen in those dire wars. The great stone cities of this land had long ago succumbed to the expanding forests, vines and creepers having forced their way into the crumbling stone edifices, often reducing them to little more than mounds of stone and gravel buried beneath the lush plantlife of this part of the world. Now these lands were once more covered with wilderness and heavy rain forests, inhabited only by the descendants of those few natives who had survived the Demon Wars. Only in the past thousand years had some of the peoples of the world, mostly humans, begun to pull together and reexplore those lands lost after the Demon Wars. Now, this new, expanding civilization had pushed its way up and down the coast of the Araquay Ocean. To the north, the great, icy wastes had halted this expansion. But to the south, the weather grew only warmer, and in the heights of summer the steaming jungles could be even more unpleasant than the frozen wastelands to the north. Although some ships had sailed farther to the south and west, the town of Zetaris was the last outpost of civilization in this part of the world. Zetaris was somewhere between a large town and a small city, rapidly expanding in size as each day went past. Several ships arrived and departed from the river-side quays each day, bringing many new people to this newest city of the world. Most of those arriving in Zetaris were treasure-hunters, thrill- seekers, and adventurers, eager to make a name for themselves or to become rich by recovering some of the many glorious treasures rumored to be lost in these ancient lands, just awaiting some brave person to stumble across them. However, many of those who passed through Zetaris on their way into the heart of the surrounding jungles never returned, sometimes falling prey to the vicious animals and predators of the rain forests, or more often they dying at the hands of the natives, who zealously guarded the ruins and crumbling buildings hidden in their jungles, many of which were sacred places to the local inhabitants. Because of this, there was a great deal of tension between the natives and the northerners living in Zetaris. Numerous tales floated about the city of native headhunters who hunted down all northerners foolish enough to stray away from the guarded fringes of Zetaris without sufficient protection. But the Zetaris itself was safe, for the natives were afraid of the town, not simply for the well-train guards patrolling the wooden palisades, but moreover because of the spell-casters who had been hired to put on amazing displays of magical pyrotechnics to scare the locals. The natives had no mages of their own beyond a few shamans, none of whom could equal to more refined powers of the mages protecting Zetaris. For this reason, few of the southern natives were fould within the town, and those who were were most frequently held in thrall by charms and enchantments. Seated in one of the countless taverns serving the rowdy populace of Zetaris, Gael and Hawn listened to the stories floating around the room, trying to learn as much as possible about this southern land, that they might be better prepared when they departed to search for the shrine that contained the Tome of Malakai. A wide assortment of adventurers and treasure-hunters of many different races, dressed in a wide variety of armor and travelling garb, filled the tavern, drinking and boasting of either the successes of their most recent quests or of the expected successes of their next foray into the heart of the jungle. Hawn and Gael were seated at one end of the bar, drinking course but palatable wine served by the burly and bearded human bartender. "You look new in town," the bartender had commented when the two had entered the tavern. "Going out to find your fame and fortune?" "We are in search of a lost shrine," answered Hawn, hoping to pump to bearded human for any possible information. "Yah, you and half the others in this place," the man observed laughingly. At the slightly confused looks which crossed the faces of Gael and Hawn, he added, "About half of the adventurers who come through here are looking for some lost temple or shrine or other ruins that are supposed to be filled to the ceiling with gold and jewels. The rest are just out to plunder anything they can find. If you want a hint, avoid anyplace that looks the least bit sacred, because there will certainly be natives around to guard it." "Yes, but we have a map," Gael stated, trying to show that she was different from the rest of the rabble hereabouts. Hawn glared at her for giving that fact away, figuring that anyone who had heard her declaration would be out to take the map away from them, and they did not have any time to spare for such distracting annoyances. Laughing suddenly, the barkeep paused to get a tankard of lager for a stewed goblin. Returning, he commented, "If I had a copper for every map that someone has come through here with, expecting it to lead them to riches, I'd not only be rich, but I'd have a broken back from lugging it around with me." He laughed again to himself. "Well, maybe this one is different," suggested Gael, having taken Hawn's hint to not act like she knew that the map actually was valuable. The barkeep kept laughing, commenting, "That's what they all say." He had heard it all, and had no doubt that these two would end just as mislead and probably as dead as all the rest. He briefly considered suggesting that they simply go back to wherever they came from, but knew they would not turn back now. He saw it in their eyes, just as he had seen it in countless other pairs of eyes. He just did not care to think of it, and certainly did not want to know whether or not they ended up dead. He knew that many of those who had passed through his tavern had ended up dead. Just so long as he did not know what their faces looked like, it did not bother him. He too had come to Zetaris to strike it rich. But after hearing about the all to real dangers involved, he had rolled a couple of drunken adventurers and used their money to buy this tavern. Now he was not only getting rich off of the fools who came through here and were willing to pay the high prices for food and drink, but he was also not taking the risk of having his neck used to test the sharpness of some native's knife. "Have any people actually found any real temples or other places with riches?" inquired Hawn, seeking whatever information the bartender was willing to pass on for the price of a couple of drinks. "A few no doubt have, but fewer still are the ones who have survived and made it back to town. Of course, the riches they recovered were nearly as great as they expected, and most of them sailed home to live the comfortable life. Still, a few have been foolish enough to go out for even more riches, and not many of them never return." Hawn and Gael continued to get information from the barkeep, who was more than willing to give them some advice. They could tell than the man was interested in either convincing them to turn back before it was too late, or to at least give them a chance to survive with their heads in place long enough to return to Zetaris. They even learned some of the more reasonable places to get supplies, like the canoe they would need for the trip upriver. -- 11/3/6067 -- The sound of shouting voices and the clash of swords broke the night air as Hawn and Gael sat at their campfire on the second night of their voyage upriver. Since the sounds of battle were none too far off, they grabbed their weapons and moved to investigate. A short distance into the trees, they found a slender woman fending off a trio of hulking swamp orcs, her scarlet clothing torn and wet with blood. Hawn attacked the nearest with his silvered blade, and Gael laid into another with her trident. When the three swamp orcs lay dead, they helped the woman to her feet from where she had collapsed to her knees from her wounds after slaying the third swamp orc. Gael channeled the powers of Poseidon into healing the woman, tending her wounds. "I thank thee, friends. Never before have I been bested in battle; and had you not assisted me, I fear this would have been my first and last time. I am Arahna Deln, of the Order of the Scarlet Moon in the Brotherhood of the Golden Twilight. For your aid, I owe you my life and my honor," she added with a deep bow. "We are greatly honored by your words, Arahna Deln," replied Hawn, assuming a formal tone of voice that seemed vastly different from his usual terse tone that sounded as if he were on the edge of losing his anger. "I am Hawn Ambrosius, and this is Gael, Acolyte of Poseidon. We would be honored if you would join us at our fire to rest from battle. It is seldom that one meets a person of so noble a spirit as one of the Brotherhood of the Golden Twilight." "You know of the Brotherhood?" asked Arahna with faint surprise as they led her back to their camp. "I once knew Caraltar, a Master of the Order of the Emerald Sun. He explained to me some of the codes by which the Brotherhood lives." "Caraltar is now the Grandmaster of his Order," Arahna informed the grey elf, who nodded, realizing that the two decades which had elapsed since Hawn had met Caraltar would be a great deal of time to a human, explaining why he had risen to the highest position in his order. "I've never heard of your Brotherhood, Arahna," Gael commented, struggling to recall any memory of the Golden Twilight. As a matter of routine, all of the acolytes in her temple had been required to memorize all significant religious and political groups in the known world. "That no longer surprises me," Arahna observed. "Few people outside of the Brotherhood have heard of us. We seldom travel abroad, preferring to remain in our havens, studying." Then, realizing that Gael knew not even that much about the Brotherhood, she clarified, "We are seekers of wisdom and knowledge, striving to learn about the world around us and the nature of existence by study, meditation, and physical discipline. When we do travel, we do so to observe to world, and not to make our presence overtly known to others." "Then you are wandering through these jungles to learn more of the world?" inquired Gael, finding it difficult to believe that there could be anything of intellectual interest in these insect ridden forests. "In a manner of speaking, yes. I am taking my Life Walk." At Gael's look of confusion, Arahna explained, "After we have completed our initiation to our chosen Order, we must journey out into the world on our Life Walk, where we strive to prove ourselves worthy of becoming full members of our selected Order." "It seems to me that there are a lot of better places to go to prove that than in the middle of the wilderness," commented Gael. "The Life Walk is not just an intellectual exercise," explained Arahna. "It is also a trial of combat. On the Life Walk it is necessary to prove oneself worthy in all ways. I feel that out in these lost lands, I may not only prove myself in battle, but can also learn more of those who live here and their history, and thereby expand the knowledge of the Brotherhood." That sounded abundantly more useful, as well as extremely challenging, and Gael said so, much to Arahna's pleasure. "And yourselves," inquired Arahna, "what is the purpose of your travels in this land? Do you also seek to recover great riches?" She said this last with more than a hint of distaste for the idea of garnering simple treasures when there was a world full of knowledge to discover. "We are in quest of a lost shrine," Gael informed the woman, trying not to reveal too much. "I have been charged to recover a valuable book." "Ah," sparked up Arahna. "And what wisdom is contained within the covers of this valuable text?" "Dark secrets no doubt best left where they are," remarked Hawn morosely. "If this book contains such things, then why do you seek to recover it?" "It is the price of knowledge," stated Gael. "We must give it to a Seer in return for knowledge of the dark elves." "The dark elves?" echoed Arahna. "I have long been interested in learning more of them. I find it difficult to believe that there are elves who could be so evil as the dark elves are reputed to be." When Arahna started to ask more about the drow, Gael made a negative gesture and indicated Hawn, whose mood had grown visibly darker at the mention of his blood enemies. Arahna decided to let the matter drop, realizing that as a light elf, Hawn would probably be adverse to discussing the drow in casual conversation. But since she was still interested, Arahna thought of a simple way of possibly learning more on this subject. "Since you are in quest of knowledge as well, would you permit me to join with you in this endeavor?" "We would be honored to have you along," Gael quickly agreed before Hawn might have the chance of declining the offer. Gael was inwardly delighted by the offer of assistance, since there was no telling what dangers they would be facing in the shrine housing the Tome of Malakai, and Arahna appeared as if she would make a worthy companion to assist them in the endeavor.