Category Archives: Quellious

Book, Cazic-Thule, EverQuest 2 Lore, Froglok, Gkerzha, Plane of Justice, Plane of Tranquility, Priest of Tranquility, Quellious, The Tribunal, Tjarduugh, Troll, Wurgoz

A Testimony of Tranquility

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A Testimony of Tranquility
by Wurgoz

Acolyte of Peace

Now, let me tell you that little tale — short and sweet it is, though dark and terrible in truth.

I committed a terrible crime many years ago against my own people an. . . Innocent people. I regret my actions, I regret them dearly, but there is nothing I can do to make right out of my ancient crimes from here.

Long, long ago my people came upon a swampland perfect for our habitation. Unfortunately, it was also the perfect habitation for the trolls — the vile, horrible, maniacal creations of The Faceless. We wanted only peace and to inhabit a piece of that fertile swampland without confronting the trolls directly.

However, the trolls did not feel the same as we. The trolls began to capture and use our people as slaves or consume them as food! We were horrified and took immediate action against them.

We came together in massive force and struck at the heart of the troll civilization to dominate the swampland. We prepared an invasion of their city that dwelled deep beneath the soggy earth of the swamp. The battle seemed to sway to the trolls’ favor. I, a shaman general and advisor to our leaders, felt the pain of our people as we fell by the hundreds to troll armies.

I could not stand to see our people suffer so, for we had come seeking peace. War — all war — hurts us most deeply within.

I pleaded with our leaders to find another swampland; to leave this place to the trolls who rightfully had claimed the land before us. Their ears were deaf to me, for they saw a great evil in these lands. It had gone beyond a desire for a new homeland for our people. It had become a crusade.

Our elders sought to purge the swamplands of the trolls. We knew they were vile and truly evil in every recess of their beings, but still I could not stand by and watch a war engage. We were creatures of peace who sought only the betterment of our own people. War was not our way.

A troll shaman by the name of Gkerzha approached me one eve whilst I was alone, scouting the swampland.

He claimed to approach in peace and we spoke. Gkerzha claimed he wanted the same as I — for the frogloks to leave the swampland and let the trolls alone. He seemed sincere and regretful for the loss and turmoil that infected his people as it did my own. We parted ways shortly thereafter, but he claimed he wished to make a bargain with me that would end the war peacefully.

Gkerzha and I met several times to discuss plans to bring peace to both races, for frogloks to move to another region of the swamp and for trolls to return to their lives before froglok presence.

I was foolish enough to trust him, but he was cunning and knew how to invoke my sense of sorrow and yearning for peace. He brought to me three of my kin, who had been taken prisoner and were used as slaves.
They were in bad health, due to abuse and lack of nutrition. Gkerzha could have cast some healing spells upon them, but knew how we feared troll magic. Instead, he brought them to me for healing. His gesture was clever. I healed the slaves and returned them to our camp, where they recovered.

I met Gkerzha again the next eve, and he brought two more slaves and an ancient trollic dagger.

After releasing the slaves into my care, Gkerzha placed the dagger on the ground, in an obvious gesture of peace. He identified the dagger as an ancient trollic weapon of legend — initially belonging to the troll hero, Tjarduugh, who saved their swampland from invasion, centuries earlier, but now an instrument of darker use.

The blade had not only killed many of my kin, but had made them the undead that accompanied their forces! He was presenting me with the very weapon that had brought great suffering to many of my people.

He said that my taking of the dagger would assure that no more frogloks would be cursed to walk as the undead servants of the trolls. This was his way of proving his desire for peace. He left quickly without further explanation, fearful of being caught by his own people, the dagger still on the ground. I picked up the dagger with a cloth, too aware of its previous use, and put it safe in my pack. I and my newly freed kin, set out to return to camp.

Once there I had council with the arch magi and high shaman. I wanted to show them the dagger, proof of this great gesture of peace, but as soon as it touched my skin, something changed in me. I brought the dagger to the arch magi and high shaman, and before they could act, I killed them with it! I remember going out into the camp and killing more of my people there.

I had murdered almost all of them before I was subdued and the dagger rent from me. I felt, as soon as the dagger left my hand, regret for what I had consciously done. I was taken prisoner before the council of generals and our leader. As the hearing was held, news of a greater and unforeseen devastation resulting in my foolishly placed trust reached us.

All that I had killed, including the arch magi and high shaman, had arisen as undead and were being commanded by a troll shaman. I immediately knew it to be Gkerzha. The scout said they were heading to the very camp where I was currently held. I pleaded with the council to destroy the dagger, or take it far, far away for it will cause them more suffering if they did not.

They did not listen to me.

I was caged and thrown into the deepest pool of the swamp, where I would either meet my fate or wait for the trial to continue. Days passed before the council returned and retrieved me from my swampy prison. They said that Gkerzha committed suicide — invoking the dark power of Innoruuk to destroy hundreds of froglok legions.

It was my fault that so many died, they said, and my judgment was beyond their abilities. I was sacrificed and my spirit sent to stand trial before The Tribunal.

It was there, within the prison cells of the Plane of Justice, where I was visited by the occasional traveler.

Several times, I had distracted myself by sharing my tale with those who would listen. It provided me some relief from my suffering and eased my conscience, if only for a moment. Each time, I was thankful for their patience and expected no more to come of it.

I had never dreamt one of those travelers would be instrumental in securing my release! I never held any such hopes, and yet that is exactly what happened!

One of those fateful travelers was a devoted Priest of Tranquility. I learned this only after she appeared before me. Though she had taken the form of a child, she was bathed in radiance and serenity. Beside her stood one of the eternal jailors. I had been awestruck and could find no air to speak.

As soon as my shackles were unlocked, I fell at her feet.

“Rise, Wurgoz. You have been locked away here for far too long, there is no need to linger on my account.” She took my arm and helped me stand. “One of my devoted priests has been praying to me on your behalf.”

“Why? What of my terrible life is worth your attention?” I offered to tell her my tale, certain she had been told lies about my innocence. She smiled, and looked at me with unflinching compassion.

She assured me, “I do not stand before you as a result of the duplicitous actions of your foe. I am here on account of your motivations. My priest was inspired by your desire for peace, not just for yourself but for your enemies too. You had sought to know the trolls and share the swamp with them.”

“But I failed!” I cried. The vision of the cursed dagger, coated with my kin’s blood from blade to handle, flashed before my mind’s eye. The memory was as fresh as the day it happened.

“They were unwilling to follow the path of enlightenment. That is not your failure to bear for eternity. Not all have the strength to walk the path to tranquility, as you have.” I could hardly believe her words! “I plead your case before the Tribunal and have won your release, Wurgoz. You are to be welcomed in my paradise, if you so wish.”

I thanked her profusely. I lavished her with adulation. I wept with relief!
“Forgive me, Tranquil One, but might I delay my travels long enough to perform one last task?” I asked.

“I will leave a portal to the Plane of Tranquility here. Step through it once you have conducted your final business. Take the time you need, my precious one. I will see you basking in peace upon the other side.”

And with that, she exited, leaving me to pen these words, my testimony. I don’t know who you are, dear reader, but I hope these words help to ease your burdens, and provide some guidance towards the path of enlightenment for you.

As she said, may we meet one another basking in peace upon the other side!

Signed,
Wurgoz, Acolyte of Peace

Antonica, Ashen Order, Avatar of Tranquility, Avatar of War, Book, Freeport, Mara, mobile, Quellious, Tower of the Four Winds, Whistling Fists, Zan Fi

The Words of the Avatar

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by Brother Nusad, Clan Historian
In the days after the Sleeper had been awakened and departed from realms unknown, mortals strode within the planes of the gods themselves. Seeking some way to halt this unwanted meddling, the gods withdrew their influence from Norrath and would speak no more. Because the druid rings and wizard spires ceased to function, mortals were cut off from one another. A dark time fell upon the lands as the treat of another Rallosian Empire stirred within the depths of the Feerrott.

Yet there was still hope. The goddess Quellious called forth an Avatar of Tranquility, granting a mortal monk some vestige of her power to ensure that Norrath survived the anguish that was to come. The Avatar appeared to some of the mortals and prepared them to defend the human city of Freeport against the Rallosian menace.

Word of these events reached Sensei Bodiki, honored master of the Whistling Fists Clan. He told his monks to prepare for battle, for they would join in the great war that was to come. Not since the days of Zan Fi had the entire order left their monastery to engage in such a conflict. The monks obeyed their honored leader and prepared to set sail for Antonica.

But just as the monks were about to depart, the Avatar of Tranquility arrived upon the shores of Mara. He asked to speak to Sensei Bodiki in private, so the two honored monks retreated to the top floor of the Tower of the Four Winds. They talked for hours, while all the other monks waited to learn what message the Avatar had brought for them.

Finally Sensei Bodiki emerged from the tower, though he walked alone. He said that the Avatar wished fro their order to remain at the monastery. The sensei could not share the reason why the Whistling Fist Clan was not to engage in the battle; Sensei Bodiki would only say that is was vital that they safeguard the island of Mara. Their island, he said, had some other part to play in Norrath’s future. The monks knew their honorable master would not mislead them, so they obeyed.

Only Sensei Bodiki himself departed the island to fight alongside the Ashen Order in the Battle of Defiance. The Avatar blessed the sensei’s decision, although he warned him that this conflict would be fraught with danger. The brave sensei felt that his place was to join others monks in their defense of Norrath.

The battle was won but the price was terrible: Sensei Bodiki was struck down by the Avatar of War. In a gesture of great honor, the Avatar of Tranquility himself bore the body of this fallen hero back to the isle of Mara, where it was laid to rest within the Sepulcher of Zan Fi.

The Whistling Fist Clan next elected Brother Zadekil to the position of sensei. The honorable Sensei Zadekil governed the order though many prosperous years in which great songs were sung of the brave Sensei Bodiki.

Age of Turmoil, Age of War, Ashen Order, Book, D'lere, Faydark, Freeport, Freeport Militia, mobile, Qeynos, Quellious, Surefall Glade, The Commonlands

The Legend of Puab Closk: The End

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The Legend of Puab Closk: The End
by Rao Lin, Tenth Keeper of Knowledge

Near the end of The Age of Turmoil, after the betrayal of the followers of Marr, at the beginning of the malicious tyranny that is the reign of the Overlord Lucan D’Lere, the Ashen Order abandoned Freeport. Freeport became a den of evil and villainy where goodly men were fed to the soldiers of an oppressive dictatorship.

D’Lere strangled out every last drop of decency and good will from those he ruled. Puab Closk would not stay to be exploited and corrupted and neither would the Ashen Order. Puab and the Order left Freeport and traveled to the one place left unscathed by The Age of Turmoil. They traveled to the Desert of Ro, to the very pillar where Puab was given the knowledge of Arcane Combat. There they setup the monastery of T,Narev.

The Order spent many years in peace training and refining Arcane Combat under the tutelage of Puab. They found many ways to expand and adapt the concepts to many different styles of fighting. The Ashen Order monks rarely used metal weapons, preferring the purity of fists and feet, but they set aside this preference and also developed many weapon styles. The Ashen Order spent nearly two hundred years in peace atop their butte. These days of peace were shattered by the unstoppable insurgence of The Age of War. The goblinoid, mindless minions burned and pillaged where they pleased, killing everyone they found.

The wicked ran blades through the hearts of the pure. The wars seemed endless, like they would rage until every living thing in Norrath was obliterated. The Ashen Order could no longer stay secluded. They left T,Narev and ran to the aide of both Freeport and Qeynos. The stories of Puab’s conversation with Quellious spoke of this time. The Order felt this was what they prepared for. They knew the might of men would be shown in the great battles to come. The Order split into two large raiding parties composed of several small groups.

One headed to Freeport and the other to Qeynos. They fought many battles on the way to besieged cities. During these battles they noticed that in small groups their power was doubled and in some cases tripled. Certain combinations of Arcane Combat Arts produced effects more powerful than anyone had ever imagined possible. They could produce the greatest of weapons.

The Ashen Order dominated all they faced with this new weapon and turned the tide of battle for each of the cities. Many monks were lost in this war, but all fought bravely for the survival of humanity. In the end with the help of the Ashen Order the sieges at both Qeynos and Freeport were ended. The heads of the Order gathered together in the burnt remains of the Surefall Glade several nights after the great battle. The stars were obscured by the smoke of the funeral pyres, Qeynos lay in near ruins.

The Faydark was believed to be lost and all around them was heavy weight of hopelessness. That night the decision was made to give the Royal Antonican Guard, who fought so bravely beside the Ashen Order, the knowledge of Arcanic Combat. It was also decided to not give this knowledge freely to the Overlord’s minions. An emissary of the Overlord Lucan D’Lere offered to give the Ashen Order a monastery in the Commonlands. The Order considered the offer with trepidation, but also believed that not all of the citizens of Freeport were evil and therefore could not reject it.

They established the monastery and used it to help those they could and also spy on the Overlord. They were betrayed by the Overlord and raided by the Freeport Militia. Every monk residing in the Commonlands monastery was taken and tortured horribly until eventually the knowledge of Arcanic Combat was squeezed from the monks.

Arcanic Combat is now the predominant form of battle used in the post-shattered Norrath. It is the weapon that Quellious and Puab Closk gave the world. Some say that Puab Closk and the Ashen Order saved humanity, that they did, but we have also unleashed the knowledge of a great power to an unenlightened world. This is the legend and legacy of Grand Master Puab Closk.

Age of Turmoil, Age of War, Ashen Order, Book, Desert of Ro, Freeport, mobile, Quellious, Ro

The Legend of Puab Closk: The Beginning

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The Legend of Paub Closk: The Beginning
by Rao Lin, Tenth Keeper of Knowledge

It is said by those outside of the Ashen Order that Paub Closk was a visionary, a prophet born of the womb of Quellious, sent to save the world from the tyranny and viciousness of the Gods. Some claim he single-handedly restored order to the world during the Age of War.

These are exaggerations of course, but the truth is sometimes seen as far more outrageous than the myth. Grand Master Paub Closk did indeed help to save the humanity of the world, but he also made life far more dangerous. He gave the world its greatest weapon.

Unlike some of the more fancify stories suggest, Paub Closk was born in the cith of Freeport. He was the child of a hard working merchant family. When he was seven years old his parents and the members of their trade expedition between Freeport and Highhold Keep were slaughtered by orcs. Knowing the expedition would be dangerous, Paub’s parents made arrangements with the monks of the Ashen Order to take and teach Paub in case they were killed.

The monks came for him the day his parents were murdered.

The monks taught Paub about life and Quellious. As he grew older he found consolation in the The Tranquil and pledged himself fully to her. He began spending any free time meditating and reading. Slowly he began to gain true inner peace and understanding.

His teachers believed that he was on the edge of true enlightenment and encouraged him to take lone trips away from the city. Paub took their advice and went out on many excursions to he Desert of Ro. He felt more at home in the desert.

In one of his earlist journals he describes one such trip to the desert, “The brush of sand across my cheek and the cold of the desert’s night only encourage my journey. The wind whispers to me and in it I hear myself. I am the vast openness of the desert waiting for the day’s light to burn me clean.”

His connection to the dunes was obvious.

At the age of twenty-five he was the youngest ever to be granted the title of Sensei. He taught all of his students the ways of the desert and encouraged them to mold themselves into its likeness. Paub was the finest martial arts instructor to ever grace the halls of the Ashen Order.

Nearly everyone he taught became a Sensei in their own right and each of them gives credit to Paub. He gave his position to his protege after only ten years as Sensei.

He spent most of his time meditating and expanding on his martial knowledge. He traveled far and wide to learn new martial styles from all those he could. He refined and polished every style he learned and taught it to the entire Ashen Order.

Paub was well known for disappearing into the desert for weeks at a time without telling anyone when or where he was going.

One such journet came near the end of the Age of Turmoil. Paub disappeared into the desert for well over a season. It is said that the desert called to him and he answered her call, some say it was Quellious herself that called to him. So, that was where he went.

According to his students Paub walked and walked trying to find the voice that called to him. Late one night while meditating on the crest of a dune he heard the call clear. He turned around and saw a river rushing towards him followed by a great of whirlwind sand. It is said the store devoured him and spit him out atop a large red pillar.

All recounts of what happened next are the same. All the stories say that atop this pillar of stone he spoke with Quellious and she praised him for his search of enlightenment and the purity of his mind and self. She then gifted him with the greatest of martial styles, the Acanic Combat. It is said he spent many moons training atop the pillar with no food or drink. There he mastered the styles and brought them back to the Ashen Order.

Book, Dwarven, Faydwer, Kaladim, mobile, Quellious

The Estate of Rest

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The Estate of Rest
By Nicadius Quellborn
I sit now to write this account in the comfort of my home, the Estate of Rest. This marvelous house has become a sanctuary and place of relief and respite to the peaceful people of Faydwer. The creation of this estate is a special story to me and one that is my intention to record on the pages before me.

Jessa took great care spooning the broth she made into the dwarf’s mouth. He was able to tell us that his name was Kyll Rucksif from the dwarven city of Kaladim to the north. Kyll said he had gone hunting with his younger brother several days ago and lost his way. He said that while he slept that night he was attacked by a crazed and misshapen bear. Kyll saw the light from our hovel and ran toward it, eventually collapsing near the well where Jessa found him in the morning.

Young Jessa was amazed by the sight of the Statue of Stormhammer, the mighty carving of rock that graces the entrance to the Halls of Kaladim. We were welcomed with open arms as we escorted the young Rucksif home to his worried father. Kyll’s father is a greatly respected and prominent dwarven mason by the name of Viktur Rucksif. Viktur was so grateful for the care my daughter and I showed his son. After showering us with a veritable feast of meats and cheeses, Viktur offered his home for as long as we wanted to rest.

Viktur asked us to stay as his guests for a couple days while he finished his commissions in Kaladim and then escorted us back to our humble abode to the south. He set out right away creating plans and recruiting apprentice masons for the work. What started out as a humble and quiet home in my mind became a magnificent manor of exquisite workmanship. Viktur had created a marvelous estate that represents gratitude and friendship.

My hope and prayer is that Kyll’s perpectually troubled younger brother would also follow in the footsteps of his sibling and take to the words of the Tranquil One. That lad shows disrespect for his elders and even to Brell. In spite of the efforts of his family, the guards are always escorting that boy home int he middle of the night.

Quellious knows that poor Garanel would benefit from the teachings of Peace and Tranquility.

I, Nicadius Quellborn, praise the Tranquil One, the Goddess of Peace, Quellious, daily for the bounteous blessings she has blessed me with. The greatest of her gifts is the health and beauty found in my only child, my daughter Jessa. She is as every bit lovely and kind as her wonderful mother. May my wife’s soul always find peace and rest in the light of Quellious. I will one day also depart this life and be reunited again with you my love.

The history of this beautiful structure began five years ago. Our home at that time was nothing more than a meager hovel that Jessa and I lived in for all thirteen years of her young life. It was the same place I built when Jessa and I first came to this land, seeking to bring the word of Tranquility to the people of Faydwer and the knowledge of the goddess Quellious.

After feeding and tending to the dwarf we let him rest upon my bed. It was only three days time before Kyll was arising from his bed before either myself or Jessa awoke for the day. He would draw the water and start the cook fires eager to assist those that helped him. I knew then that the boy was more than healed enough for the journey home. I anxiously realized then that the time had come for me to finally meet the people of Kaladim, if only to return the boy to his family.

Being polite, Jessa complimented Viktur on such a beautiful home and how it was so different from our own hovel. The elder dwarf inquired more of our living conditions and I humbly told him of the place I built with my own hands near my beloved wife’s grave. Upon hearing this Viktur insisted that to properly thank us he would offer to build us a proper home. As much as I declined the offer Viktur persisted until I finally gave in and agreed to let him build us a small house.

Whenever I mentioned that the estate is too much Viktur quickly rebuttals with a grin that I speak nonsense and this is the standard size for a house built in gratitude for caring for one’s child. Viktur and I have become the closest of friends, even though he has jovially resisted all my friendly attempts at converting him from his unwavering devotion of Brell. The same was true for all dwarves of Kaladim, except for Kyll. He has been forever grateful to Jessa and me and has grown up with Jessa. he alone has spent equal time in the chapels of both Quellious and Brell.

Book, D'lere, Freeport, mobile, Quellious

Excerpts from the Journal of Puab Closk

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Excerpts form the Journal of Puab Closk
My journey is nearly ended. It seems I have spent over a season in the desert. The moisture in the air is alarming, it feels wasteful. It may take me a while to adjus being in th city again. I have also found that distancing myself from civilization has made me more attuned to its moods. The areas surrounding Freeport feel more dangerous than before. Everyone I come across seems on edge and fearful. I have half a day’s walk until I reach the city gates.

I think that before I return to the

I have spent three nights in the city and I am very disturbed by what I have learned. It seems Freeport has a new leader. I knew D’Lere was vying for power before I left, but I never imagined he would succeed.

Strangely, I feel like we have betrayed ourselves allowing this to happen. I must ask myself, would we have interfered if I were here? I will meditate on that question tonight, and tomorrow I will return to the monastery.

I have searched my feelings and decided that we would not have stopped D’Lere and that realization saddens me. We have always been apart from politics, but this feel different. I cannot yet say why this has affected me so stongly.

I have observed the monastery from afar for a day now. All seems the same as when I left, except some of the students were causing a bit of a ruckus with the militia. I feel some trepidation at the thought of returning. I feel as though some great evil looms on the horizon waiting to devour us all. I don’t trust this place.

It is odd… I spent only a season or so in the desert and it feels far more like home than Freeport. It is strange how travel and learning can do that to a man. I have spent several weeks speaking with the Sensei and the council. I have explained and demonstrated to them what I have learned. They are excited and a bit scared. I cannot blame them for their initial fear.

These techniques are quite adaptive and powerful. In the wrong hands all could suffer from their use.

I have taught the leaders the Arcane Combat styles. They absorbed each stance and movement like a desert plant does water. It was beautiful to watch the realizatin wash over them. They have felt the power given to us by Quellious and can now wield it.

They took at me with a bit of reverence in their gazes, I must squash that immediately. They cannot come to depend on me, they each must believe themselves to be their own master or they will never be able to successfully teach others what they have learned.

Riots have broken out again tonight. We cannot stay here. I will not allow our knowledge into fall into D’Lere’s hands. That fool would tear the world asunder with no one to check him. We have packed up all of the libraries and we have begun filtering out of the city slowly to keep from drawing attention to our departure. We will go into the desert. There we will train and learn all we can of this new combat. There we will make our home and protect the Arcane Combat from the villainy of evil men.

Book, Butcherblock Mountains, Dwarven, Erudin, Erudite, Faydwer, Kaladim, mobile, Ocean of Tears, Odus, Quellious, Ro

A Sojourn of Faith

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A Sojourn of Faith
By Nicadiaus Quellborn

It is with much eagerness that I begin scribing this account, a tale that has taken me from my birth home of Erudin on the continent of Odus and has found me in this humble hovel within the foothills of the Butcherblock Mountains. This journey was prompted by a yearning and a compelled conscience that try as I might I could not deny.

During my maturation as a young erudite I noticed a contempt my brethren had towards other races, a feeling I did not share. In particular, I was quite intrigued with the civilized societies of Faydwer. Surely these people who were so radically different from each other but who could co-exist for so long in peace much have been blessed by the Tranquil One.

This thought was confirmed to me one sacred night when Quellious herself appeared to me in a dream and called me to this special mission. I was to be her voice and bring her to the people of Faydwer. However, I had a very difficult choice to make. I was, after all, a highly respected man within the temple and my beautiful wife, Jessa, was with child.

After weighing the decision carefully I concluded that I could not deny my feelings nor my goddess. I would leave my noble position and wrest my ever loving wife from her palatial home and make the dangerous sea journey. my commitment and my choice would come at a heavy cost.

It was on that passage that Jessa would give birth to our lovely daughter, but the Ocean of Tears is aptly named. By beloved wife soon fell gravely ill following childbirth. The gods in their mysterious ways decided to claim her before she ever laid eyes upon the land of our destination. My faith was shaken to its very core as I went through the horrible task of preserving my wife’s body for travel.

Our ship landed on the southern shores of Faydwer, blown off course by a savage storm. Heartbroken and filled with sorrow, I couldn’t bear to look into the face of anyone as I stepped off the ship. I ignored the warnings of the dwarven sailors that crewed the ship and set out into the wilds.

As I traveled the strange new countryside I swore that I could not bring hollow words to the dwarven city of Kaladim. I still needed time. I constructed a humble tomb for my beloved wife in the foothills of the Butcherblock Mountains and laid her to rest. I then built a simple hovel nearby, the very house I now make this record.

In time, it was through my daughter, Jessa, named for her precious mother, that my faith would return. She possessed every quality that I loved in her mother. She glowed with a lightness of spirit and warmth of heart that I could feel, as if she contained Ro itself. It was young Jessa that would one day urge me to offer up my prayers to Quellious once again.

I feel the time has come for me to make my long-delayed journey into the gates of Kaladim. I end this account now that I might close this chapter of my life and begin a new one. The dwarves of Faydwer will now hear of the peace of the Tranquil One and of the blessings she brings.

Age of War, Ashen Order, Avatar of War, Book, Kunark, Master Wu, mobile, Plane of Tranquility, Planes of Power, Quellious, T'Narev

History of the Hand

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History of the Hand
A chronicled record of the Hand of Serenity

The History of the Hand – A Gift from the Heavens

During the Age of Turmoil, Quellious, the Goddess of Tranquility, imparted a portion of the Plane of Tranquility to create the demi-plane of Serenity. Where Tranquility goverened the overall state of peace and calm of Norrath, Serenity was created to focus on the personal, inner peace of one’s mind and soul.

At this time, Quellious came to Master Wu the Enlightened, the only mortal at the time to achieve true enlightenment through a lifelong dedication to tranquility. She raised Master Wu to demi-god status and charged him with the stewardship of the Plane of Serenity and to serve as her emissary of Peace.

Then the invaders to the Planes of Power came. The lesser planes began to blink out of existence as their energy was needed by the greater planes to withstand the assault of the power-hungry mortals. With heavy heart, Quellious came to Master Wu and told him the energy of the Plane of Serenity was needed by the Plane of Tranquility in order to survive and that she would have to reclaim it. Wu knew that this had to be, but asked Quellious for just a small portion of the energy that he may create a planar artifact to further the case of Serenity among the mortals. Quellious agreed to this and Wu set to work.

Master Wu created the Hand of Serenity, a special katar made of five blades. Although it functioned as a weapon, its purpose was much more as a teaching device than an instrument of destruction. Each of the five blades represented an aspect of Serenity and had its planar symbol etched onto it: Peace, Order, Balance, Harmony, and the central, great blade Tranquility. With just an expert’s touch, the five blades could fly open like a fan to demonstrate each individual concept, or swing together to form one harmonious and stronger blade.

Master Wu took the Hand of Serenity and descended to Norrath in order to bestow it upon mortals. He entrusted the blade to the monks of the Ashen Order at their refuge in T’Narev and instructed them that they were to champion the cause of Serenity. They must be the teachers of the world.

The Hand of Serenity was protected by the Ashen Order from generation to generation, used in teaching and instructing in the matters of peace and serenity. It wasn’t until the Battle of Defiance at the closing of the Age of War when the Hand would be carried into battle to fight alongside the forces of good. During the raging battle, the Hand of Serenity struck the Avatar of War with such cosmic force, the katar shattered into its five blades.

Following the great clash, the elders of the Order realized that Serenity was truly missing from the world. They decided that to best spread the word of Peace, Tranquility, and Serenity that they would each take one of the five shattered blades and go out into the world to spread the word of Quellious. They designated a time when they would all come together once again just as the blades would when they were whole. However, when that time came only one of the elders would return to the humble walls of T’Narev. That elder would set out again to the lands of Kunark to find the others. He was never seen again…

Cazic-Thule, Dagnor’s Cauldron, Estate of Unrest, Everquest Lore, Faydwer, Garanel Ruksiff, Kaladim, mobile, Official Developer, Quellious

Into the Depths of: Unrest

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Overview of The Estate of Unrest

This large abandoned mansion was built on a high bluff overlooking the murky waters of Dagnor’s Cauldron. The mansion rests in the center of a large plot of land surrounded by a high, but crumbling, stone wall. Rumor is the mansion is haunted by the powerful ghost of a dwarf named Garanel Rucksif, who went mad and killed the inhabitants; a human priest of Quellious and his family.

Though the mansion is teaming with legions of undead, there are many items to be gained here. Many lost items of magic and lore can be found being worn by the long-dead inhabitants. The difficulty of this area makes it an exciting place to adventure in.

Background Lore

According to legend, a cleric of Quellious had taken his family to the shores of Faydwer from their home in Qeynos. This cleric built the mansion for himself and his family with the intent of bringing the knowledge of Quellious to the beings of Faydwer.

Meanwhile, Garanel Rucksif of Kaladim had inexplicably gone mad and murdered his wife and children. During his escape, he stumbled upon the cleric’s estate and proceeded to brutally torture and kill the entire family in a small chapel dedicated to Quellious, which was built for family worship.

Quellious was so angered by this hideous offense to her worshippers, and particularly in a chapel dedicated to her, that she actually lost her temper and lashed out. She struck down Garanel, cursing his ghost to spend eternity existing in the pain he inflicted upon his innocent victims, and dooming him to walk the halls of the estate forever.

As time passed, the powers of Garanel’s ghost grew, as did his maddened thirst for blood and murder. All who disturbed the haunted estate ultimately faced his wrath. The spirits of unfortunate adventurers who met their demise at Garanel’s hands were revived as his mindless, undead servants.

Eventually the rumors of this haunted establishment reached the ears of a powerful erudite priest of The Faceless whose name has been lost to history. This priest entered the Estate of Unrest without fear and confronted Garanel, who immediately attempted to slay the mortal intruder. The priest was able to subdue Garanel’s ghost, threatening to destroy him for eternity.

The thought of being vanquished entirely into the eternal blackness of non-existence drove Garanel to strike a bargain with his would-be killer. The priest, amused and wholly fascinated with Garanel’s being and his tale, thought this the perfect opportunity to exploit the creation of his deity’s divine opposition.

The priest spent several days in prayer and eventually awoke the corpses of the human priest and his wife. For weeks the priest of fear tended to their bodies, restoring the appearance of life in their decayed corpses. He dissected each body in turn, stripping flesh from bone and removing their organs. When he was done with the dissections, the priest invoked the power of The Faceless and sacrificed himself to forever pervert Quellious’ doing.

With the power of the priest’s final spell, each piece of dissected flesh grew and mutated into a full body, infused with the couples’ spirits, stolen from Quellious and siphoned through the power of The Faceless. Garanel’s curse remains intact, but the taint of the The Faceless, made possible by the priest’s self-sacrifice, strengthened Garanel’s power and hold upon the estate, now forever polluted by Quellious’ cherished followers, now undead and in eternal pain.

Dangers

This mansion is a very difficult area. Many undead creatures make their home here, and will swarm on any visitors to their home. Stepping foot into the mansion itself would prove unwise for unskilled adventurers.