Krows is informed that since Torm is such a minor, inconsequential faith who is strangely incredibly popular amongst adventurers- that there is no real 'relics' of torm found within Cormyr, or shrines beyond personal household altars or symbols worn by knights who do not follow the far more relevant and meaningful god helm. Basically, the Librarian tells you that Torm is a minor god, whose strict guidelines and adherents dispel more followers than it attracts.
The librarian indicates she was an infamous spectre that haunted the hullack some several centuries ago, one that kidnapped a host of children for some unknown reason.
He is uncertain as to the 'lavender fields' and the connection she might possess with Hags, however.
The librarian explains that sadly no one has written a book of such ideas or experiments, despite many attempts to force the local portal master to write it down. So far, the library has had little success.
The librarian chuckles and explains that the Palace of Wonders was a "gang" of Old Town, without any real criminal records to its name other than perhaps tax evasion. Mostly made out of ladies and men of the night, the Palace of Wonders is lead by Madam Zhou. The Palace of Wonders supply workers various establishments in the City, but rumours has it the Madam has her eyes on the Fine Hells. Currently most of the "Petals" as they are known, work in Albon's House of Relaxation.
[Baltasar offers Falconer an excerpt of a report, the next time he shows up.]
I dreamt of many things, the first of which was an old Eastway fairy tale, of a woman lost in the Hullack and approached by a Hag, whom offered safe return of the woman back to her home if only she would give her 'four stars'. The woman gladly accepted this offer and was shown a path out of the forest. As the woman went home she tucked her four children into bed, kissing their brows before going to sleep herself. The Hag returned that night and took the children, none of them woke and neither did the woman. These were the four stars.
As the woman awoke the next morning, so overcome with grief was she that she plunged a dagger into her breast in an attempt to kill herself, only for the Hag to save her, telling her that she will live forever with children, a mother of the children if you will. She accepted, maddened by grief, and the tale tells that she lacks her children to this day, looking over other children taken in the past, present and future, eternally, weeping ceaselessly for her four stars were never returned.
[The librarian explains that there is little known of Darkblight. But now SPORE BLIGHT, that he can tell about. Sporeblight dangerous and very illegal substance, he does however note that it came first into light after the late Lord Hardcastle was struck by a strange magical illness soon after an assault upon his estate. It is said his only child, the late Lady Ann-Marie Hardcastle, sought the aid of a rag tag druid and his gather to find a cure. How the Lord was cured, and what came to be of the druids is still a mystery which the library offer a lot of gold for being uncovered. But he does note the Lady and druid, whom turned out to be the late Lord Emil Wyvernspur, fell in love during their adventure. Only to die on their wedding day, known as the Blue Wedding. Since there is a lack of documentation, the librarian suggest Sammie search for her answers in the Helmlands and the surrounding areas which is said to have been the source of the mysterious illness of the late Lord. Perhaps they have a similar source?]
Anebril finds a book called Polymorph for complete and utter dummies. It tells Anebril all about the feat Extend Spell which allows you to extend a period of transformation, and about different forms the user can take. Off to one side he finds a short book on shifters.
Change, change, to whatever you may be
I am the Lord of the Shifters said me
I will crush you all wherever you may be
So don't you dare mess around with me
Reminding people that when searching the forums it means also reading books and past inquiries by other players for information.
Don't be lazy, read a book else you won't get any help if we know that information you are after is there, or close enough to build a foundation upon.
There is information on monsters, weapons, locations, Artefacts, history, noteable people, and not all of it directly contains the specific keywords you might look for. Some of it may have vague references. That means you may have to broaden your search and read a lot.
Riuals and magic in general, outside of Artefacts, is generally not in a library however some information is available if you search.
One of the Librarians comes up to Anebril and speaks to him
"Get out with that vial! By the God's, if you so much as spill a drop on these books I'll make sure that you never come back in here again!"
Search function can cover a bunch of what you are looking for, I suggest you use it
A late middle aged man with white streaked red hair by the name of Richard Morley helpfully points out a book on Lady Winter that seems to explain things in some detail.
*The Shou Chronicler stumbles upon the woman and points her toward a book titled The Lurker. It refers to a beast who's spawns can sometime be found in the sewers. She also inform the woman they do not have anything concrete on the sewer beast and would reward whoever would write a tome on the subject.
She also informs her there used to be a shrine to Talona below, and rumors of cults of the Slime Lord living in the sewers, but again, no tomes on the subject were ever written.*
His research is mostly met with anger, hostility, and mistrust. Such things are vile magics and an affront to the gods.
However, by chance, he doses stumble on a small sliver of information that refers to a tome lost in a tomb in the deserts to the north of Arabel. It is very vague and holds no further details than that.
The Militia will require a warrant to enter any official church-owned land unless extenuating circumstances were present (eg and immediate and tangible threat to the safety of the citizens of the City of Arabel)
[The librarian appear very curious of the curse which the halfling speaks of, but sadly shakes their head and explain they have no publish material on the matter. However, the librarian do note that the Scriptorium is known to have had a member with a similar curse and advice the halfling to seek them out. The Librarian also mention rumours of other people having the curse, but if they have died to the curse or remain alive they do not know.]
With the collective academic might of Thorsten Ogretoes and Head Librarian Sigermane, Gegnus is able to review two separate accounts.
For reference, Thorsten includes a transcription of the hero's tablet found in the vaults of Thunderholme some few weeks ago:
In the year 1184, at the peak of the great war between Clan Thunderhammer and the duergar led by Clan Bloodaxe, the hero Durin met his end. Alone and outnumbered, it was Durin who held the narrow bridge between North and South Thunderholme as his kin helped evacuate many of the children and elderly who could no longer fight. Nearly one hundred duergar warriors attempted to cross the narrow bridge, and all perished by his hand. Durin fought long and hard against the oncoming horde for two straight days, carving the grey-skinned menace or bashing them off the bridge into the abyss below with his massive shield. Such conflict cannot laster, however, as Durin sustained fatal injuries fending off so many warriors. With his last breath, his axe broken and his shield little more than a dented hunk of iron wrapping around his arm, he tore off his helmet and bashed the remaining duergar to death before succumbing to his wounds.
It is with great pride and sadness that we raise high his tomb as a monument to Durin's selflessness and posthumously grant him his own clan.
Here lies Durin, Son of Glin, first and last of Clan Ironfell.
Thorsten further elaborates on the timeline surrounding Durin's death. It seems that some few years before the initial fall of Thunderholme, the duergar Clan Bloodaxe began invading the Undercity with the intent of setting up a staging ground to take the entire Hold. With the Undercity fallen, Clan Thunderhammer, led by King Hagrymm Thunderhammer, began a bloody campaign to push the duergar back to the abyss they came from. Years later in 1184, the duergar finally broke through the Thunderhammer line and invaded the Hall of the Mountain Lords, pushing directly for Southern Thunderholme and the dwaves' only major access to the surface world for trade and reinforcements. Durin met them upon the Great Bridge and single-handedly defended his people while the elderly and children escaped. He died that day, and nearly a year later of further bloody combat, so too did King Hagrymm. The Hold was finally overwhelmed in 1185, at which point the dwarves had to seal off Northern Thunderholme and let the duergar have it.
Why the duergar had not adapted Northern Thunderholme to their own wants and needs is a mystery. Indeed, there seems to be no indication upon exploring the newly recovered Hold that the duergar had ever inhabited it in the first place. Perhaps they too were so bedraggled from the war that they could only deploy a skeleton crew to keep the dwarves from retaking it? Or maybe the wildlife of the dark below became too much to control? In any case, their lack of total domination proved fortuitous, as it means the fortunate preservation of dwarven history.
Head Librarian Sigermane at the Scriptorium spends several hours pouring over old dwarven texts - such as they, often being large, blocky things with few words on each page - until he eventual finds a particularly interesting passage.
It was during the winter in which Kormaag Hellfrost, the Prince of Frost Giants along the Spine, fell that I saw the most miraculous sight. My hunting party and I had been scouring the peaks for game, hoping beyond hope that the recent day of sunlight had inspired a few deer to venture beyond the lowlands below. When we spotted the tracks of a young stag, we sped off in ravenous pursuit. Our clan had not had proper food in days, and some of our elders had already succumbed to the chill touch of death. After crossing a valley and reaching a steep cliff, we peered down below to realize our worst fear - the giants had been herding the wildlife to their lands and hoarding the game for themselves. I saw with my own eyes huts and giant-sized bags filled with meat - meat that could feed our clan the entire season and enough to get fat on. My hunting party and I were filled with a bilious rage, but we hesitated to throw ourselves upon the entire encampment. While I, in my cowardice, suggested we hunted elsewhere, it was Bolgar Brightfist who told me in no uncertain terms my heritage was that of a cock and sped down the cliffside toward the camp. A dwarf does not abandon his friends, so we followed him, possibly to our doom. Luckily for us, the giants were so thoroughly shocked that we would actually assault their hunting camp that two were felled before the warhorn blared. The ensuing combat lasted throughout the day and into the bleak night when a snowstorm began to roll in. We had whittled their number down to just three, despite scouts and lone hunters who came back to join the fray, but they had similarly wounded us. Where we had numbered seven in our party when we left camp at dawn, now we were only four.
Bolgar burst out the side of a tent, having hidden within a stockpile of meat to mask his scent, and leaped onto one of the giants. Using his hunting knives to climb up the beast's back, he stabbed it in the neck, causing it to topple over and ram its hunting spear into the second giant. The third one, outraged, began coming after the rest of us. We made the great behemoth give chase for some time before it eventually had us pinned against a cliff wall. It raised a hammer to slam us to pulp, but before it could connect and squash us, Bolgar came flying off the cliffside above, using a giant's hunting spear as a lance. Bolgar skewered the giant and had thrown himself in the way of the hammer, taking the blow instead. I'll never forget the sound of the great crack it made as it flung Bolgar several meters to the side.
We rushed to his side. The entire right side of his body had been crushed in, and he was having a great trouble breathing. Despite this, he begged us to go and get the clan to haul back all the food. I had left to go do this while the other two watched over him. By the time we came back, this was when the miracle occurred. When we had returned, Bolgar's body had turned to stone - not just stone, but metal as well. At first, we were concerned this was some kind of giant's curse, but our shaman said this was a blessing of some kind for his heroism. To this day, I know not what the truth of it is, but I believe in the craftsmanship of his new shape, and I know that it must be a blessing. We carried Bolgar's statue back to our clan's grounds and built a stone housing around it, and we teach our children that it was Bolgar Brightfist who fed them this day.