Steamfont: Ominous Rumble

After camping in the Steamfont Mountains, I settled in for a night’s sleep. At about 3:00 in the morning, I was awakened by an ominous rumble from the mountains to the northeast. I broke camp, activated my roboboar, and rushed back to the mine area where I reckoned the sound had come from.

What I found was chaos! Startled and unnerved, Minotaur workers were scattering across the valley in panic. What had happened? Their panic made them no more talkative to me, that is for certain. Even my keen skill of mystical collaboration could not bring them to trust me. Their fear of crossing Meldrath must be absolute

I decided to go back into the caves where I found my old friend, the Brownie I had reported about previously. Still seemingly guarding the mysterious door, he looked off into space, as if in deep thought. “Can you remember anything about the Minotaurs, my friend?” I asked.

“When they got really mad at us they would lock us up in a dark place, like one of their empty tool kits. Sometimes the Minotaurs would come along and play kick the toolbox for a few hours. Those sadistic monsters never get tired of it. Never! And don’t think that just because you won’t fit into a tool box that you’re safe. You’re not. You’ll fit just fine into an oil drum. They like kicking those, too.” Continue reading “Steamfont: Ominous Rumble”

Steamfont: An Eccentric Brownie

To: Investigator Geo Friinok, Gem Choppers

From: Freelance Investigator Okosar

Re: First Report on Steamfront happenings.

An Eccentric Brownie

In doing some legwork to uncover the information you requested about Meldrath’s activities, I came across a rather eccentric Brownie. Normally, I avoid their type after some nasty run-ins with their Lesser Faydark brethren, but this little fellow seemed rather lost. He was looking off into space. Then, he suddenly turned to me and my patience was rewarded.

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“Hey! Okosar! Wait for me! Have you heard about what Meldrath is up to? It’s terrible. . .”

Perhaps he had some information that would be valuable to your investigation. Just as quickly, though, he shook his whole body suddenly and said, ‘How’s the weather up there?” I had never been asked that, before. Then he cocked his head, “Good, I hope, because the end is near! Run for your life!”

I tried to engage him in conversation, but he did not respond. I asked him about Meldrath. I asked him about the end. This was not going to be an easy interview.

“Did I tell you about the smell? It’s horrible! All soot and grease with a tint of rust, or maybe blood, I could never tell. I’ll never forget that smell.”

I asked him about the smell, the grease, the rust and blood. The Brownie simply said, ‘If he catches you, you’ll be sorry.”

A to Z Raconteur

The Calling
Written by Community Member Amphar in honor of Okosar the Raconteur

In the beginning, before my home of Ak’Anon was threatened by the shadow of the Bloodmoon, I was a simple clockwork engineer, fresh out of the Academy. It was only a decade after Ak’Anon was opened up to the world, and all I knew was my peaceful life of gears, machinations, and books. The books were what my father objected to.

It is not the norm for a Gnome to dream about faraway adventures. Conventional wisdom is that the Creator, Brell Serilis, frowned on that kind of a life for us. Tinkering is a noble profession, and it should fulfill any reckless desires that might creep into one’s consciousness.

It was a time when a steady stream of great tales started to flood in. There were tales of Steamfont and the Dragonscale Hills, of course. But there were even more faraway places, places that sparked my imagination. I couldn’t get enough of these books.

Everything changed for me one night when I had the most disturbing of dreams. I dreamt the clockworks I spent all day servicing started to crawl on me, to cover me, to dig into my skin, creating an exoskeleton that was slowly choking the life from me. Unlike our beloved King Ak’Anon, however, these machines started to take over my being, and I started to fade away. With a desperate cry, I exploded to cast away the machines, waking up in a cold sweat. The dream troubled me for days before I decided to seek out help from a most wise counselor, an Academy instructor of mine named Julene Urncaller. Continue reading “A to Z Raconteur”