While exploring this seldom used tunnel, you find a section of floor where the mold has small boot-prints in it. There are also dried spots of what looks like blood. You follow the tracks for a while, but they fade out. Interesting.
You bend down to touch the glowing water. As you do, the glow lifts up off the water, and forms into some sort of shape. The shape is humanoid, but is so faint and unstable you can't make out what it is. When it has formed, it speaks:
"I tell you I know of you. I send a message. You are being sent ahead, but it is futile. You should run, and run far. But I can still give you this gift, in hope for you." The shade waves its hand, and you feel an odd tingling feeling. Then it disappears.
You back away. After a moment, the glow disappears from the water. You feel relieved that nothing attacked you.
You stand on a large stone bridge, built to carry troops and supplies across the river to Fort Emergence. Soon an army will cross here, in hopes of carving out area for the Exiles on the surface of the world.
To the north you see a huge, open cavern, dotted with recently built towns and settlements, populated with Exiles recently teleported from far below. To the west is the Portal Keep, where everyone up here (including you) arrived.
As you wend your way through the tall stalagmites choking this tunnel, you hear someone ahead grunt something to someone else.
You spring to alertness, and just in time ... a band of goblins jumps out ahead, and charges after you!
A band of the many Exile soldiers patrolling this area approaches you. The paleness of your skin immediately identifies you as Exiles. They look you over and leave.
The stench of this corridor and the bones and trash scattered everywhere make one thing quite clear: there's a goblin infestation nearby.
The mighty drake is humored in the extreme that you would dare to attack it. It growls a few magical words, and aid appears.
You come upon a pack of massive, feral rats. You try to walk slowly by, hoping they won't take any interest in you. It doesn't work...
The massive slime flows over the rock towards you. The air gets colder and colder the closer it approaches, until your noses and ears start to sting. The creature is totally silent, and implacably deadly. You wonder if retreat might be wise.
You manage to escape the lethal creature, easily outrunning it over the rocks. It disappears off into the tunnels. If you wanted to, you might be able to find it again if you returned later. Heaven knows why you'd want to.
After much hacking and chopping, all the bits of the creature stopped moving. Victory is yours. You can only hope people appreciate your ridding the cave of this beast.
You prod at the crude warren, ice flaking off the stones as you poke at them with a sword. Suddenly, white goo starts bubbling up through the cracks in the lair! As the air becomes intensely cold, the goo starts to form into one gigantic blob...
You see a familiar sight ahead of you: the Portal Fortress. Inside it is the huge teleporter which is the only route from Exile below to this huge cavern and back. The energy of the place makes your scalp tingle even from here.
This small patch of comfrey root is still exhausted. Perhaps if you returned later.
At first glance, it only looks like a lump of rock in the middle of the stagnant water. Closer inspection reveals otherwise: it's some sort of ancient shrine, worn to the point where its carvings are no longer legible.
You ponder for a moment who might have built the thing, and for who, and then leave it behind. It's only one of the multitude of mysteries and odd places dotted all over these caves. It's just another sign of some ancient race you'll never learn about.
To your disappointment, you find that the tunnel dead ends with nothing along its length more interesting that piles of rock and piles of ancient rat droppings. Nothing useful. You turn around to head back.
As you do, however, you hear squeaking ahead. Loud, nasty squeaking. You start to wonder if perhaps the makers of the rat droppings ever return to this secluded passage ...
This secluded passage seems dull in the extreme - yet another long gallery filled with scree and debris. The only odd details are the piles of cave rat droppings, and even they look old. Even the glowing roof fungus that lights these caves is sparse here.
A Vahnatai patrol approaches you. The look you over with their strange, alien eyes and wave you on. "Searching we are for bandits. Caution we think you should have." They move away soundlessly.
This corridor is very silent and eerie, dotted as it is by all manner of totems and signs bearing dire warnings. This must be a strong group of bandits indeed if they can display their position so blatantly.
You decline to shop. Silverlocke nods. "That's all right, dears. Come back whenever you want." You finish your tea and depart.
You back off. The Vahnatai warrior shakes his head in disappointment. Then, with a strange, keening howl, the Vahnatai plunge into the hollow. You hear combat for a while, and then only half of the Vahnatai emerge, bloodied, and head for home.
The Vahnatai treat their wounds, and approach you. "We give you thanks. The chitrach are being an old and bad foe to many of we." After taking a few trophies, they depart.
When you steer your boat close, you notice that the rocks to the west have a narrow open path between them. With care, you could steer your boat through it.
A worn and haggard Empire patrol is following you. When they get close enough for a decent look, however, they turn and stumble away. They were close enough for you to see that their armor was pitted, as is by acid, and they were complete exhausted.
As you trudge through the swamp, you stumble upon a nest of giant snakes. Prey must be scarce around here ... they slither out to do battle with you.
You come upon a bunch of shacks at the edge of the swamp. The people here are swamp dwellers: burly, tough, and naturals out in the bayou. They couldn't care less that you're from Exile. They welcome you in for pots of snake stew and to trade tall tales.
They tell you they're basically snake hunters. They hunt giant snakes for their meat, skin, and venom. They mention that if you go south, wander around, and are really lucky, some snakes might attack you. They make this sound like a good thing.
The crops around here are mostly lost: dead plants in neat rows. Long trails of land have been rendered lifeless, probably by the slimes that are wandering everywhere. After some hiking, you come across a farmhouse.
It's abandoned. Some slimes have been inside it ... the floors are pitted and ruined. Someone has painted a simple, grim message on the front door: "Gone to Krizsan. No point out here anymore." You turn away, leaving this somber sight behind.
A band of brigands guards this narrow bit of hills between the mountains and the shore. When they see you, they immediately move to guard the path.
As you get closer, you notice something very odd. The brigands have several of the brightly colored slimes writhing and sliding among their feet. However, the slimes don't attack them. In fact, the bandits and slimes seem to be traveling together.
A withered, gnarled old hermit waddles out of the hut, looking very angry at being disturbed. "Consarn it! Get off my island!" With that, he waves a hand, curses you severely and storms back into is hut. You don't feel so good.
You reach the very southwest corner of the continent of Valorim, and have a perfect view of the ocean, stretching out far, far beyond view to the south and west. You walk out onto the sand, and feel the salt spray dotting your face.
After years in the caves, you had forgotten that something so awe-inspiringly vast could exist. Staring out over this huge distance gives you a feeling of both wonder and vertigo. Soon, however, it passes, and it's time to journey on.
You wander into the mine, and are soon not-too-gently escorted out again. Claim jumpers are a common hazard at here at the back of beyond, and nobody is taking any chances on fraternizing with strangers.
You move quickly away, eventually looking back to see the slimes digesting the rest of the soldiers. Oh well. Better to be a little bit cowardly than a lot dead.
With a joyous howl, you rush into the combat, fighting alongside the Empire troops. The slimes are unconcerned. All they know is that more food has just moved near them ...
The Empire troops are amazed, both that their lives were saved and that they were saved by Exiles. The captain says "Thank you, friends! We're from out of Delis. If you go there and tell Glydden what happened, she'll be sure to reward you."
An Empire patrol, exhausted and harried from constantly fighting slimes, approaches you. Although your pale skin clearly marks you as being from Exile, sworn enemy of the Empire, they give you only the most cursory of inspections before they wander away.
A band of brigands charges you, thinking you an easy target. What surprises you the most are the slimes that travel at their side, seemingly follow their commands. Very strange.
You clean the slime off your blade, and take one last your around the farm house. Anything that might have been useful there has been dissolved or eaten. There's not even fruit in the garden. You leave the mess behind.
You enter and look around. Many acidic slimes have been in and out of here, with the result that everything inside is ruined, and holes have been burned in the walls and ceiling. While searching, you look out the window, and find you've been surrounded.
Much to your surprise, even though your paleness and thinness marks you as, if not Exiles, very strange characters, the people in the farmhouses are happy to welcome you in and give you a meal.
They warn you not only about the slimes, but about brigands who somehow travel with the slimes without harm. Nobody knows where the things come from, but they're convinced the only way to deal with it is for humans to stick together as much as possible.
You approach the farmhouses, and a group of them come out to meet you. They're polite, and apologetic, and tell you that if you don't leave they'll try to kill you. They aren't trusting anyone at this point, let alone pale-skinned, weird, armed strangers.
You approach a farm only to find it has been destroyed. All of the buildings have been burned to the ground, and the slime' acidic chemicals have left dead trails through all the crops. You leave the carnage behind.
You hurriedly shell out some of your hard-earned loot. The goblins laugh at you, harsh, mocking laughs. Ears ringing, you move away to safety.
When the goblins see that their money isn't forthcoming, the mount their wolves and emit bloodcurdling howls. Then they charge after you ...
This is an all too familiar sight. It was a large, successful collection of farms until the slimes got to them. Now, it's wreckage and ruin. Not even the slimes found it worthwhile to stay here.
The road ends here. Beyond this points, the slimes have dissolved the roadstones, leaving a morass. Odd. Why would the slimes want to eat a completely inedible road?
The gray-haired patriarch of the clan pokes his head over the wall and yells "Nobody's comin' in here 'til all them slimes are gone! You ain't safe! Keep comin, and we'll kill 'ya." You back away, in order to avoid slaughtering innocent, inbred townsfolk.
You decline to purchase any of the hill people's brew. They don't look offended. "More for us," their leader chortles. They march back to their hovels.
You reach the end of the valley. Slimes sun themselves on the rocks everywhere, and slide in and out of a multitude of caves and tunnels, all of them identical looking.
As soon as you start moving forward, the slimes inactivity ends. They glide gelatinously towards you.
You reach the isolated glade, only to stumble upon a party of bathing dryads. They shriek when they see you. Fortunately, they then run off into the woods. Faerie creatures can do much worse when they want to. There's nothing else here.
These goblins won't be hassling travelers anymore. Their camp doesn't have anything useful - they must have hidden their loot somewhere. You notice that their tracks come from the north.
These slimes are dead. No doubt there's plenty more where they came from.
You strongly suspect there's something interesting here, but there's no way you could search all these caves yourself, being hassled by slimes every step of the way. Maybe there's some information you could find elsewhere that would help you here ...
Mandrake is a delicate, slow-growing root. This patch has not yet regenerated itself from your last visit. You'll have to come back later to get more.
You arrive at this remote isle, and immediately notice a lack of life. No birds chirp, no animals scavenge the shore. You only find one very unnerving sign of life - an absolutely perfect statue of a squirrel near the beach.
Steam rises from several vents in these hills, and you find a few natural hot springs. There must be some localized volcanic activity nearby.
You agree to help the enormous, ancient creature. You have a wait a day before his expected attackers arrive. In the meantime, it stays apart and aloof, making you camp outside its lair and not speaking with you.
Eventually, it moves out of its lair, each step making the ground vibrate under your feet. It says "The enemy approaches. Ready yourself." Sure enough, not long after, a horde of drakes slithers into the valley, ready for blood.
You pay and cross the river. It's a quick, uneventful journey.
You pull your weapons from the creature's body and search its lair. It was not as wealthy as you had hoped. There's plenty of gold, though, and a beautiful set of plate mail. You take the stuff and leave, before the drakes it warned you about arrive.
The drake rises, having healed itself of its wounds. It flexes its enormous muscles, and, without a word to you, moves over to devour several of the dead drakes. Its lizard allies eat the rest. When the grisly meal is complete, it walks over to you.
"I thank you for your assistance. You deserve a boon." It moves into its lair and returns with a suit of plate mail held in its teeth, which it gives to you. "Our business is done. Go now!" You have little choice but to obey.
The monks that survived your assault on their monastery have set up one vicious ambush, one final attempt to get vengeance.
With vicious intent and animal grace, they emerge from the trees and brush. No mercy will be asked, and none shown. They ask nothing more from the rest of their lives than to be able to kill you.
Your victory over the mad monks is complete. The last of this isolated band of psychotics lie dead at your feet. Your work is done here.
You're ambushed! You aren't attacked by humanoids or smiles, though, but by a vicious, muscled, lithe band of monks! They shout "Feisty Slap of Pain!" and charge ...
