August 4, 1885
Given all the tales swirling about the Isle of Thanatos, I felt it would be prudent to consult with an expert before embarking on our expedition. The only man living rumoured to have travelled to Thanatos and returned was Franklin Payne – an itinerant adventurer well known for the bombastic tales of his exploits published in his journals and newspaper accounts. I would normally be inclined to dismiss such purple prose as the work of an attention-seeking huckster, but Captain Teach claimed to have travelled with him before and vouched for his authenticity.
Mr Payne was only too happy to speak with us, going on at great length about his exploits on Thanatos. Some of his claims were so preposterous as to be beyond all credence, but I suspected there was still truth behind his bombast. He warned us that the jungles of Thanatos were crawling with beasts not seen anywhere else in Arcanum. In particular we should beware of the Bogaroth – a titanic beast stalking the depths of the jungle in the center of the Isle.
August 7, 1885
The trip to Thanatos took several days, with rough seas and hazardous coastline requiring us to search for quite some time to locate a suitable spot for a landing.
Once upon shore we soon came upon the remnants of a prior explorer’s camp. It appeared that they had deceased long ago, but a journal remained describing their expedition. It noted an “Ashlag Tribe Village” somewhat to the south, which the journal claimed was home to an odd people who worshipped a shadowy figure living to the south. On the other side of a “land bridge” on the southern edge of the island.
The passage towards any of these reference points lay through dense jungle ahead. Even Sogg was a bit hesitant to enter, given all we had heard, but in we plunged.
Our initial experience with the frightful fauna of Thanatos came as we trekked towards the village. A troop of horned monkeys assaulted us with rocks from the trees.
The Ashlag village noted in the journal proved to be far less hospitable than we had hoped. It was long abandoned, and appeared to have been crushed by something enormous.
We continued south from the village site, attempting to reach the “land bridge” noted in the journal. The further south we travelled the more hostile grew the local fauna. Vicious imps assailed us from above.
Large predatory reptiles stalked us from the shadows.
By the time we chanced upon an infestation of gigantic spiders hindering our path, I was in no more mood to deal with the local wildlife on their own terms
And that is when we stumbled into the worst of all. We were all already on edge as a result of the incessant ambushes. We should have realised sooner that it was not a fortuitous sign when the barrage abated. When we began to spy worn and broken bones littered about, we knew something was nearby. And by all signs something very, very big. The Bogaroth!
It proved far too large to engage in close quarters.
And Raven fared little better attempting to damage it appreciably from afar.
So in the end I employed an experimental incendiary that I had been saving for an emergency. An extremely potent variant of TNT.
August 8, 1885
Eventually we came upon the rather incongruous sight of a simple wooden cabin in a quiet clearing. The creatures which had been harassing us throughout our journey afforded it a wide berth. We were not at all certain what we would find inside, but we could sense that we had reached our goal. I looked to Virgil – confirming that he was ready for whatever we might learn inside.
We approached to knock on the door, and an old elf in white robes answered. We told him we were seeking the final resting place of the Great Nasrudin, and he snorted in derision. “Ahhh, searching for the ‘Great Nasrudin’. Hah! The ‘Great Nasrudin’. What was so great about him? Damned fool, if you ask me!”
Virgil was incensed, demanding the the old elf apologise for denigrating the great man. “Oh? And you think you know about Nasrudin, young man? Who are you to tell ME about that old, worthless elf?“
And then everything we knew was turned upside down – as Raven greeted the elf as an old mentor of her Mother’s. Uncle Nasrudin. The one and only.
The old elf invited us to sit as he explained. He had founded the Elven Council in ancient times, just as the legends told. But Arronax had not been a rival or enemy, but his own son. And while the Elven Council had ostensibly sought to guide the other races, there were always undercurrents of elven superiority. Arronax extended these to their natural conclusion, feeling that the elves should rule the lesser races outright. Nasrudin blamed himself for this, saying that Arronax had only reflected his own prejudice and arrogance.
As Arronax grew in power, he also grew in ambition. Until one day he went too far.
“He had taken it upon himself to “keep the balance”, as he termed it. He believed that being a member of the Council validated any course of action he chose to pursue. This meant attacking anything he saw as a threat, such as a city that had begun building advanced technological devices. Vendigroth, it was called.
He warned them to cease their “destructive behavior” and destroyed one of their factories to underscore his point. Justifiably afraid for their very lives, they swiftly constructed a device that could destroy even the most powerful wizard. He responded by calling on forces that few of us had ever seen, and wiping not just the city, but the whole province of Vendigroth from the face of Arcanum.“
“He felt himself betrayed when the council condemned his actions. He showed no remorse. In his arrogance, he was sure he would be vindicated. I cast the deciding vote to banish my own son.
If I must die, I will be the last!” he screamed as he hurled the spell that brought an end to the council, the Age of Legends, and my will to live.
It was a harsh dawn that morning on the plains of Brodgar… and it was there, in the shadow of the Black Spire, that our armies met in the most terrible battle that Arcanum has ever seen.
As the sun set, only four of us were still alive to witness the destruction we had brought to pass. I found Arronax among the corpses of our decimated armies.. .and it was there that I condemned my own son to the Void.
But such was the fury and power unleashed by this conflict that the very fabric of reality was torn asunder. With our remaining energy, we were able to seal the rift with powerful wards… and the Ring of Brodgar still stands today as a monument to my son’s destructive pride, and my own unforgivable failure.
When I regained consciousness, I was on the shore of Thanatos. I had regained just enough energy to seal myself in a regenerative shell. I remained that way for a thousand years. No one had ever stayed in a shell for anywhere near that amount of time. Somehow, my “magical hibernation” extended my life much beyond that of even the most powerful Elven mages.
When he awakened he discovered the Panarii religion had sprung up in his absence. He met Saint Mannox, determined that the “tomfoolery” about his divinity would not be deterred, and secluded himself back on Thanatos.
“The world out there is not mine. It only serves to remind me of my failure. Everyone I knew, everything I held dear, is gone. I myself should have died long ago. Besides, I do not fancy being worshipped as a god.”
When we told Nasrudin about Arronax’s efforts to escape the Void, he sighed heavily. He had hoped that Arronax would have gained more wisdom than that from his long exile. He told us that in order to finally eliminate the threat, we would need to travel to the wastes of what had been Vendigroth, find the device that they had built to combat Arronax, and take it to the Void to stop him once and for all. In order to save the world from Arronax, we would have to be banished to the Void ourselves. He would wait for us at the Ring of Brogdar when we were ready.
August 15, 1885
We had a lot to think about on the journey back to Caladon. But one loose end kept nagging at my mind. Who had killed St Mannox? Who had invented the fiction that Nasrudin was buried there? And what was Mannox trying to convery with the scrawled with his own blood? The circle was clearly reminiscent of the stones of the Circle of Brogdar. And since that would apparently be our ultimate destination we decided to make a quick detour to Roseborough before organising our expedition to the Vendigrothian Wastes.
There had been a tourist exhibit in front of the Roseborough Inn. Apparently a stone which had once occupied a position in the Ring of Brogdar with the others. I had paid it little heed on our first visit, but now I examined it more closely. There were symbols and numbers inscribed upon it. Symbols which did not seem to match the antiquity of the stone itself. Suddenly inspiration struck – in the form of a memory of a book I had once read about secret codes. If I thought of these inscriptions as a cipher… yes! It was directions!
I made a quick transcription of the codes, and then we proceeded to the Stone Circle. From there we followed the directions on a winding path along the coast, which eventually came to an odd stone… with a sealed hatch! At first the hatch would not budge – not even for Sogg. But upon examining closer I noted a symbol. A symbol reminiscent of those scratched in Mannox’s message. The symbols had been interpreted as “opposite” and “truth”. The sarcophagus had been a lie. So if the counter lay here… I asked Raven to pronounce the word “Truth” in Elven. And the hatch opened!
Virgil and I squeezed through into a small cavern below. Inside we found an old sword and a journal. A journal written by Mannox, detailing his discovery that the head of the Panarii church – an elf named K’an Hua – was in actuality a Dark Elf!
K’an Hua had been intentionally twisting Panarii beliefs for centuries! The Panarii had originally been an order tasked with maintaining the wards at Brogdar – thus keeping Arronax sealed in the Void. Over time K’an Hua had corrupted the meaning of their name and their holy writings – turning Nasrudin and Arronax into mythological allegories rather than flesh-and-blood historical figures. Causing them to entirely forget their original purpose!
August 17, 1885
We immediately returned to Caladon, and rushed to the Panarii Temple to tell Father Alexander. And if the journal had been insufficient to convince him, the lost sword bearing his family crest sealed his belief. He told us quietly that K’an Hua was still the High Priest of the Panarii, and kept himself sequestered in his chambers in the interior of the Temple.
We asked if we could help, but we could see righteous anger transform his features as he stared at the blade. He told us that K’an had *much* to answer for, and that he intended to *personally* resolve the matter. Father Alexander was near legendary for his prowess with both spell and blade. I did not envy K’an Tua his fate – however well deserved.
Author’s Notes:
I love the feeling of exploration and unravelling mysteries you get with Arcanum. Especially the way it gives you breadcrumbs to follow rather than simply handing you all the answers. You could stumble your way through the main beats of the plot without ever finding things like Mannox’s hidden cache. Or the origin of the half-ogres. But it sure rewards you narratively if you pull on the threads.
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