You make your way home to Rhukaan Draal, to find things have changed. A tribe of hobgoblins have emerged from underground and brought many of the ancient history of goblinkind. They claim to be Kesh Volar, the Word Bearers, who went underground many thousands of years ago. They were tasked with holding the history and customs of the Dhakaani empire, ready for the day when the curse would be lifted off goblinkind. Their dirgesingers have seen that this is the time that the empire will be restored, so they are looking for the true heir to Dhakan, the one who will return civilisation to the goblin empire and remove the rage that infects you all. They are very popular in the city, but you are more interested in finding the King. You make your way to a public audience, and then a private one where you explain what you have found. "You've done good, Chronk", says the King, "but not good enough. You are the only one I can trust. You follow your map and see where it takes you. I fink you are on a holy quest now. You bring that crown back to me so them wordbearers can see that I'm the big boss". Leaving the walls of Rhukaan Draal behind, you set out toward the southern half of the Seawall Mountains. The land around you is tinged red, and the taste of dust flies through the air in the light breeze. The earth around you is tilled as you leave the city, with the occasional goblinoid farmer working the fields. As you get closer you ask questions of locals you find and hear stories of the trials you might face: THE TALE OF MUR’TAAL Raat shi anaa, “The Story continues...” with Mur’taal, a hobgoblin warlord of great skill and pride. One day, an ancient crone told him of a legendary vale in which laid a trial that only the greatest of heroes could overcome. Seeking to prove himself worthy of his ancestor’s weapon, he took off to complete the trials, but never returned. For many years afterward, stories were told of the great Mur’taal, of his skill with the chain and keen tactical insight, of his peerless atcha and unsurpassed devotion to muut. Then many more years passed, and eventually, as all stories do, the tale of Mur’taal faded into common legend. Then, much later, it came to be that the Dhakaani Empire found itself engaged in a fierce battle with their ancient enemies, the Tairnadal. The Dhakaani needed a champion to confront the peerless warrior leading the elven war host. A young duur’kala, Miishka, took it upon herself to follow the legends of Mur’taal, traveling to the Vale to retrieve the lost hero of the dar. Along the way, she faced three great trials – the Test of Courage, the Challenge of Wisdom and the Trial of Honor to see if she was worthy of entering the Vale to retrieve Mur’taal. Driven by her muut, her duty to reclaim him as the champion of the Empire, Miishka passed all of the challenges set before her and found Mur’taal trapped in his own Trial of Honor, unable to see the solution. As Miishka questioned him with the wisdom of the duur’kala, Mur’taal realized that only his pride and atcha, his dangerous desire for personal glory, was holding him back. Instead, he needed to follow his muut, his duty to his people. In understanding this, Mur’taal completed his final trial and was freed from his entrapment. The two heroes returned to battle, and Mur’taal, newly humbled by his experiences in the Vale, easily defeated the horselord of the Tairnadal forces by playing on the elf’s own arrogance and need for personal glory. Thus, the field was won by the Dhakaani. Raat shan gath’kal dor, “The Story stops, but never ends…” You find your way to the vale, a strange place that feels more alive and more dangerous than anywhere you have been before. As you make your way through the valley, entrancingly beautiful despite the whispering of the shadows, you finally see what you seek, the entrance to a cavern. Above it are words, carved in archaic Goblin. As you try to make them out, the letters shift to a more modern version of Goblin. Courage Action. Caution. Boldness. As you enter, making your way around large boulders and stalagmites, you find yourself in a large chamber. The ground ends, a cliff plummeting far below you, the depths shrouded in magical darkness your eyes cannot penetrate. The top of the cavern is lit by a bright mystical light from an unseen source. A natural bridge leads across the abyss below to a platform in the middle of the cavern. The bridge, however, is clearly unsafe. The first half is covered with vicious spikes that raise and lower intermittently. For a few feet after the spikes, there is a brief haven of safety, then several huge and dangerous axes swoop back and forth across the remainder of the bridge. This turns out to be no problem for you and you quickly make your way to the platform. Standing on the center platform, you now see natural light trickling in from the far side of the cavern. This is clearly the exit you seek. However, you see no sign of how to reach your destination. Again, impenetrable magical darkness stretches below you, shrouding the area below the platform all the way to the exit. Though you cannot see its source, you hear the trickle of running water beneath and before you, toward the exit. Taking your chance, you leap from the platform, landing in a pool far below. From there you are able to swim to the exit successfully. After wading through the water and exiting the cavern from the Trial of Courage, you quickly find yourself on a path amidst a field of thick grass. Up ahead, the path splits in two, and at the fork, you see a sign. Once again, it initially appears in archaic Goblin, then quickly shifts into familiar words. Wisdom Perseverance. Reliance. In one direction the path diverges into a dark forest, and in the other direction, the field overflows with beautiful flowers. You peer into the forest, and though the path itself is well-worn, smooth, and clear, the way is shadowy and dark. Immense trees reach out their gnarled branches toward the ground, and the path quickly twists out of sight, disappearing into the dense woods. On the other hand, the path through the field is smooth, straight, and clear, without an obstacle in sight. Around it, a rainbow of beautiful flowers blanket the landscape. You choose the forest, not trusting the flowers and thinking it seems too much the easy option. As you move along the path through the forest you find your stomach growing empty and your energy flagging. As you struggle onward, the trees around you begin to bear fruit. You find yourself refreshed, and the impending exhaustion is lifted by the bounty and life around you. After traveling an unknowable time, perhaps hours or days, the landscape again changes to a field of long grasses, blowing in a gentle breeze. In the distance, you notice a pair of goblins sitting beside the path, engaged in conversation. The goblins see you and wave to you, smiling. One of them approaches you with a respectful nod. Although it speaks in a strange old version of Goblin, you find yourself able to understand the words. “Hello. We are traveling together down this path, but we fear what may lie ahead. You would do your duty to us well if you allowed us to accompany you.” You have learnt much of strangers during your time in Sharn, so decide to allow them to join you. The goblins gratefully thank you. As the trail goes on, they gladly share interesting and strange stories of their work. One works as a crafter, the other as a scout. The goblins offer you food and drink from their own supply. Although the path is long, the goblins keep you entertained, making you almost forget the time spent on the trail, and feeling as though it was but mere moments. The path ends in a tall adamantine door, nearly ten feet tall, standing proudly in the middle of the field. As you peer on the other side of the door, you see it is just that--a door, standing alone, with grass stretching in every direction as far as the eye can see. Upon the door, you see a scene etched out in lustrous purple metal - a ghaal’dar, a hobgoblin, whirling a spiked chain all about, laying into twisted monstrosities and scimitar-wielding elves as they converge on his position. A single word is emblazoned above the scene, first appearing in archaic Goblin, then quickly shifting into a familiar tongue. Honor As you open the doors, instead of seeing the expected field of grass on the other side, you find a long, narrow hall before you, a single throne at the far end. A semi-translucent figure is standing in front of it, spinning deadly circles with a whirring spiked chain as he moves across the hall. The noise of the doors dragging open alerts him to your presence, and with a final flourish, he coils the chain around his arm and armored chest. As he approaches halfway down the hall, you hear a spectral voice echo in your mind. “Saa’atcha, warrior. I am what remains of Mur’taal. I know you Chronk-atai, but not as you will be. If you would face yourself you must face me first, in an honourable battle” You sit with Mur'taal and speak a while. You discuss the ancient goblin empire and you learn much of what was. You discover that the goblinoids can never restore their empire while the rage of Xoriat still lives within. This was the curse imparted by the creatures that came from the deep. Your ancestors destroyed the enemy, but the curse destroyed your civilisation. The two of you then discuss the terms of your battle and then begin. The battle is long and hard, and after what feels like weeks of fighting it is obvious you will lose. You know that if you were to ignore the terms of battle you could defeat him, but since those were the terms you agreed to you decide to fight honorably. Chronk dies with honour, passing the third of the tests. End of part one..... Raat shi anaa: the story continues. In the distant past, six mighty kings rose to power. Each sought to do their duty to their people: to bring them prosperity and security, to defeat all who would threaten them. Time and again, the six kings clashed on the field of battle, but the kings were matched in cunning and their warriors were equals in courage and skill. No victory could be won, and no compromise could be found. Jhazaal Dhakaan called the six kings together, and none could resist her summons. She brought them to a field soaked with blood and strewn with blunted blades. Jhazaal Dhakaan sang the song of the dar, reminding the kings that they were all one people. She sang the song of muut, of the duty all dar share. She sang the song of atcha, of the glory awaiting the people, of the heroes of the past and of those yet to come. With her words, she wove a dream, and she gave that dream to the six kings and to all who followed them. It was with this song that the Empire of Dhakaan was born, and it is this dream that guides us still. Our empire was so grand that even the spirits grew jealous. The Lords of Madness crawled out of the shadows. They made monsters of our children and sought to break our people with terror. But no power could stand against the champions of Dhakaan. Our heroes blinded the Lord of Eyes and cut the roots of the Rotting Queen. They fought the great Corruptor and brought him down, but even as he fell, he whispered to the hero who defeated him. His foul words lingered, clinging to the champions, and they drowned out Jhazaal’s song. As the whispers spread, those who heard them forgot the ways of muut and atcha. They forgot the glorious dream. They forgot what it meant to be dar. The duur’kala and the chot’uul came together, but there was no easy answer; only time would still the poisoned words. Our greatest leaders each took one of the treasures of our people and bore them down into the depths, into ancient fortresses that neither enemy nor poisoned word could penetrate. And there we remained, waiting for the echoes of that ancient curse to die, waiting to restore the dream of the people. Raat shan gath’kal dor: the story stops but never ends. Your eyes open as a warm breeze blows across you. You stand and find yourself lying on a balcony, far above a city. The buildings are tall, but not compared to Sharn. However they are built in a style that seems familiar but somehow alien. You then realise that they are new buildings, but this entire building is built in the same style as ancient goblin ruins. Looking below you see many figures moving through the streets. You peer down at them and realise they are all goblinkind as well - warriors, artists, dirgesingers and a wide array of other noble professions. This city is huge. You look over to the horizon where you can see clearly into the distance when you realise that there are no moons in the sky. Where is this? You turn around and see that there is a wide open doorway behind you leading to a huge empty throneroom. You approach the throne and are suddenly disturbed by a voice directly behind you. You spin around and find yourself face to face with yourself. Or almost. This is a version of yourself that seems many things, all at the same time. He looks like an old man, while simultaneously looking no older than you now. He wears rags, while simultaneously wearing elaborate armour and a crown. He has your eyes, but at the same time his eyes glow like Ashana's. "Not yet, youngling, not yet", the other Chronk says, "this throne is not for you yet, and may never be". You feel strangely calm. "What is this place, who are you?" you ask. "You are in the Uul Dhakaan," other Chronk answers, "you are in a story, you are in a dream. This is a place all goblinkind visit, but none now remember. If you succeed in saving goblinkind you will destroy this realm. As for me, I am you, or I will be possibly. It's very complicated but you could say I am the sum of your potentials. But that matters little, what you need to understand is that the dream can be broken. You must tell your friend Ashana that the dream can be broken and that the age can turn. The quori seek to hold the turning through an eldritch engine at the centre of il-Lashvatar. You and your companions from Sharn will find a way to bring the planes together. If you bring Dal Quor and Thelanis into conjunction you can enter il-Lashavatar and destroy this dream". Somehow, although these words make little sense they burn into your brain. You will not forget them. You realise that your mind seems to function better here than it ever did in Khorvaire. "Why am I different?" you ask old Chronk. "Because you passed the three tests - Courage, Wisdom, Honour. Very few of our kind can pass these tests any more, and in doing so you have removed the ancient curse from yourself. You will find that you are no longer controlled by base emotions such as fear and rage, you are now able to regulate yourself". You stop and analyse yourself and know that you are thinking more clearly than you ever could while alive. (I have raised your intelligence and wisdom scores). "But wait, I died", you say "Well yes," old Chronk replies, "and no. Your struggle through the three tests was a mighty tale that will echo through the ages, but it was, at the same time, merely a dream. You will wake soon". You talk with yourself for hours, but frustratingly the older you does not seem to have a lot of advice. The one piece of solid advice you get is that you should, under no circumstances, eat the food in the feyspire. You continue talking, but after a while the dream starts to drift away and you wake up, cold and wet in a pile of garbage in a Sharn alley. You see your reflection in a puddle and for a moment, just for a moment, you see a crown on your head. You look again but it is gone, if it was ever there. What do you do?