These books are part of the Hidden Entrance quest, eleven in all. Each one shares the same name, but includes different text. The number beside each title corresponds to the order that it's found on the quest.
Report to Niarltah (#1)
We have intercepted three missives that were sent to the wild brother from the shaman. The letters were intercepted and then returned after they were copied. We've spent the better part of the evening translating the missive and have included the translation of that document below. We also have discovered a large book that the shaman carries. It appears to be covered in a thick rind of fungus. How it has remained overlooked or out of sight for as long as it has is beyond us.
We shall do our best to collect the book and provide a translation so that we can learn more about our new allies as we press forward in our campaign.
Ikakhe
Translation
Brother. I can feel the presence of The Sleeping One here. It calls to me and tells me that our time is running short. The Guruk have made their way to this world, it can only mean that the Kukuur are not far behind. The Guruk must have been ordered to this world from our home. Without the direction of the Kukuur they will revert to their savage ways. We are no match for their strength and if they are allowed to tap their savage natures we will be culled like the mubur root.
We must establish a position of strength over the Guruk before they slip into madness. I need you to take your savages to the place our allies call the direlands. There you must seek out the Guruk and force them into submission. While you are seeing to our safety in those lands, I will continue our efforts with our new allies. We must move more quickly, brother, the Kukuur will see us destroyed if they are allowed passage to this world.
-- Ikakhe
Report to Niarltah (#2)
We have begun our translation of the book. Torgluuk hides it each sunrise and returns to it each evening as the sun draws below the horizon. Our first efforts to understand the language were failures, later pages have proven easier for the spirits to understand. With time they have been able to decipher the first pages. I have included a large amount of the book that we have managed to decipher thus far.
Ikakhe
Translation
All was silent and dark with the world. The Sleeping One had yet to dream of the sky, the world, the muuldu trees the Burun or of the Fiazhat. All was silent and dark in the first days of the world. The Sleeping One's eye did not hang above or stare upon its children. There was no life only the mire of what could be.
It thought of loneliness and the ever present darkness that swam across the heaven in which it laid its head and it felt sadness. Alone it wondered at the others that it must know, the others which hung above in scatter specs of light across the sky above and it wondered at what it was missing so far removed from them. The Sleeping One felt the wonder grow within itself and decided that it must not be alone.
From its body it pulled Bur and shaped the orb with thoughts. It stretched its mind into the realm of what can become and thought of the muuldu, the mucor, the shuuktuuk and the feelun. Fauna sprung upon the orb called Bur and rushed over the world in a haze and spreading menace that choked the core of the orb and soon all died and the orb called Bur was cast aside, a lifeless rock.
From its body it pulled a second shape and stretched it along the edges, warping the world with its mind and shaping all that it could be. A long disc, flat at the edges and thick in the middle the world became. It thought then of the muuldu, the mucor, the shuuktuuk and feelun and the fauna spread across the face of the world that was called bur and choked out life again, leaving nothing but a barren dead world behind. Again, The Sleeping One cast aside the world.
From its form it took another world, cragged and pitted. Upon this world it scattered the muuldu, the mucor, the shuuktuuk and feelun and again the life it made ate through the core and killed its creation. Again the world called Bur was scattered aside while it crafted a new world.
From its heart, The Sleeping One drew forth life, from its mind it drew forth intellect and from its body it did carve the world. The muuldu grew first, twisting vines that dug beneath the rock, splitting its veins wide and spilling the water onto the world. Next The Sleeping One rubbed the world with the shuuktuuk. The trees grew tall and canopies of pink with bulbs of ripe fruit covered the world.
Next the mucor, placed with care in the places that The Sleeping One would place its first children, and in the mucor The Sleeping One placed the memories of this time, this creation; the time before all there was. The feelun came last and they twisted up from the water, some stretching miles tall, opening in splendid colors to The Sleeping One's watchful eye.
The flora grew and spread along the world called Bur until it reached a balance. Then flora gave birth to life of its own: koruu koru, muloo, bomutur, iallootu, hefuu, nirakay, and moar. All life sprung from the first life of the world save the Burun and Fiazhat.
Across Bur, the flora had spread and grown a sea of life that was unknowing of The Sleeping One. Its gaze fell upon them and watched at all times, but the life of Bur was unknowing, save for the mucor. But even the mucor knew only what it had seen, and its knowledge was not one that learned, rather it was one that grew without limit, scope or design.
-- Ikakhe
Report to Niarltah (#3)
We have reacquired the book, though we are unsure why Torgluuk kept it on his person for the past few days we are certain that he is unaware of our tampering. Further translation is included in this missive.
Ikakhe
Translation
The Sleeping One was still alone and though it had succeeded in bringing life it had failed to create what it had wanted. There were no beings that thought like it, could call to it or ask it for guidance. So it pulled two seeds from the nether and planted each into the soil of the Bur. It watched as the seeds grew into life and began to swim through the muck of the Bur and then leap from the muck to the muloo or walk amongst the iallootu. Brothers born of its flesh, the Fiazhat and the Burun.
The Sleeping One was content and realized that it had drawn much of itself to create this world. It felt the weight of its efforts and closed its eye. Across the sky its brothers and sisters shown upon Bur and the scattered remnants of its first attempts spun about as a reminder of its failure to the growing brothers of Bur.
In the dark Burun huddled together and supped on the fruits of the shuuktuuk, they grew wiry and strong swimming through the muck and feeding on the moar, bomutur and the bomuturs smaller offspring. The Fiazhat spread along the solid ground, hunting moar and feeding from the iallootu.
Burun grew more confident and curious. Spreading across the swamps and mire into the lands where the iallootu grew tall and the land grew hard. But the land was drier and their skin cracked and peeled away. The made their way back to the comfort of the shuuktuuk and mucor where they ate and learned the secrets of the past.
Fiazhat slithered along the land where iallootu grow and made their way into the mire and swamp to hunt the moar. They found the Burun and made discourse. They refused the teachings of the mucor and reviled the scent of the fungus. The fled the swamp and returned to their dry land. The Sleeping One blinked furiously for eons. Time ever marched forward and the Burun and Fiazhat came into contact no more. And then the time of harrowing began
Fire rained from the sky and the second world of bur crumpled in the sky and fell to the world of Bur. Fire leapt across the iallootu lands and scoured the swamps. Burun and Fiazhat alike were drawn into the flames and devoured. Death came at the hands of an unseen force. The Sleeping One had closed its eyes and the world had caught ablaze. Fire scorched the world and all was changed. The Sleeping One opened its eyes again to see usurpers.
They arrived in the places where the Fiazhat supped on the land and grew strong. Beings of twisted darkness, tall, lithe beings adorned in the flesh of other beings, wrapped in cloth, adorned with emblems of life. Smelling of blood and wearing paints crafted from the berries and mire of another place. They came with promises and dreams that they used to bewitch the Fiazhat and fill their heads with thoughts of their worlds.
They blotted The Sleeping One from the sky with fell arts. Halo's of blue light radiated about their forms and voices shrill and cruel sang loud across the wasted, burning lands.
Come. Come. The false gods begged of the Fiazhat. But Fiazhar brothers could not see the lithe forms whose delicate faces were filled with wrath. Only the mucor saw the truth and saw these forms, heard their songs and felt their passage. So it was that the Burun knew of these beings, these false ones.
But the Fiazhat had heard the calls and during the cycles when The Sleeping One's eye was hidden from the world. The Fiazhat built structures of hardened sand, carved images in the stone and hissed and sang the songs of the false beings. All this crept forward and grew for five thousand cycles.
During that time the burning lands scoured the world and drew the swamp homes of the Burun to near nothingness. When The Sleeping One saw the world again, it wept and some of the mire returned. But five thousand years of reverence had been stolen from The Sleeping One and its power was diminished. Only the Burun recalled the truth, only they consumed the mucor.
-- Ikakhe
Report to Niarltah (#4)
Torgluuk has assumed a shorter schedule. This has allowed us to take the book more consistently but for shorter periods. We endeavor to complete the translation for you.
Ikakhe
Translation
Gone for so long, the Fiazhat had thought the voices and the singers gone. Then their voices returned and they came again with gifts. The mucor was first to feel this gift.
Splitting along the veins of the world, the singers forced a liquid fire. It hummed with the force of bomutur's wings and flowed like the first muuldu.
It took on a life its own, a new life of glowing embers that fed into the water and reinforced the strength of the world. They left and returned for hundreds of cycles; still unseen by their servants, still known by the mucor and the Burun.
Changes began in the world. The Burun felt strength in their blood and chanted to The Sleeping One. Their chants beget miracles that bathed the world in rain. But they were not the only ones changed.
The moar had gone from harmless beast to beasts that breathed fire, ice or acid. Their small claws dripped ichor that charged the wounds they cut. Still prey, the moar became dangerous and the Burun developed arts to protect themselves through chants and rites gifts of the The Sleeping One and mucor's offspring.
Burun grew more confident and curious. Spreading across the swamps and mire into the lands where the iallootu grew tall and the land grew hard. But the land was drier and their skin cracked and peeled away. The made their way back to the comfort of the shuuktuuk and mucor where they ate and learned the secrets of the past.
The Fiazhat grew driven. Charging forth at the behest of their false gods. They grew hoods that sheltered them from The Sleeping Ones eye. Two sets of arms grew from their bodies and they rose from their bellies to powerful tails.
They crafted long sticks into devices meant for poking and killing. They took the sinew of the iallootu and strapped them to the saplings of the alooki. They hollowed the shells of the gantha roa and wore them in plates tied with more sinew. They grew lustful of blood and sought war on all life.
For the next eight thousand cycles they make war and try to force themselves into the swamps. They fail as the Burun develop stronger rites to drive their foes away. But Fiazhat numbers grow and the first clutches rise and follow one another through the mire migrating away from the encroaching Fiazhat threat.
-- Ikakhe
Report to Niarltah (#5)
Torgluuk maintains his short schedule, as a result we've needed to work quicker and the book has seemed to lengthen. We are trying Niarltah.
Ikakhe
Translation
Burun that have drawn into clutches draw blood from their Fiazhat brothers. Many of the Burun that wield the powerful rites grow fat with power, some growing so fat that they perish in an explosive display of color. The Burun walk across the burning land for the first time and press the Fiazhat back from the swamps. They become as brutal as their brothers sparing none of the slithering Fiazhat that they defeat.
Burun turn to eating the flesh of their brothers to consume their souls and purge the defilers of The Sleeping One's way from the world. Teachings of this way become common place and the Burun clutches become maddened with power. They enact great rites to call the tears of the sleeping one and rains fall for a full cycle.
Mucor witness the arrival of the false ones wreathed in white light. They make their way into the swamp and take a handful of the moar after witnessing the destructive force of the Burun.
Within cycles of one another the false ones wreathed in blue light return, but their forms are gaunter and they exude a palpable madness. They arrive and make themselves known to the Fiazhat. Heroes of the Fiazhat are drawn, slithering through tunnels of gray and violet mist at six different places across Bur.
Those that are taken by the mad false ones never return and the Fiazhat hail this as the greatest reward given by their gods. The false ones wreathed in white return and loose the moar back into the swamps.
The moar are changed in appearance, temperament and ability. Their talons drip ichor that now mimics their strange and powerful breath. They become predators of the Burun and the Burun clutches that had threatened to crush the Fiazhat are suddenly put on the defensive against the wild intellect of the moar.
-- Ikakhe
Report to Niarltah (#6)
Niarltah, We hope to finish our collections and get them to you soon. But some of the Burun that we are with have become suspicious of our activity. We are continuing forth with increased caution.
Ikakhe
Translation
The false gods disappear from the world and the Fiazhat who are left behind fall into a time of fear. They build six grand temples in the locations where their gods have made their presence known. Giant, tentacled eyes are built in the places where the gray-violet tunnels appeared. Knowledge is gathered and placed into these buildings. The Fiazhat begin to fight amongst themselves over the next thousand cycles each vying for control over the temples that have been constructed.
In the swamps, the wars between the Burun and the moar intensify. The moar are extremely resistant to the rites granted by The Sleeping One. The false gods of the Fiazhat are blamed for usurping control of these beasts from The Sleeping One and the hatred of the Burun toward their damned Fiazhat brothers increases.
The mucor see all and pass this knowledge forward.
-- Ikakhe
Report to Niarltah (#7)
Niarltah. Torgluuk appears to be catching on that the book is disappearing when he rests. There has been an increased guard watching his belongings. We have been able to obtain the book but our translation must be hurried. We have begun to list the happenings in a more formalized standard. It appears that this book is a record of all the knowledge of the mucor on the Burun homeworld.
Ikakhe
Translation
Burun nomads succeed in driving off a fair portion of the moar and make a campaign against the Fiazhat. The Fiazhat are unprepared for the ensuing war as they have fought amongst themselves for so long.
Much of Fiazhat culture is stricken a terrible blow. But it is saved as the swamps are suddenly filled with moar and the Burun are forced to move on and defend their homes.
Burun beg of their god, The Sleeping One and are rewarded by rains that begin to turn the dry lands of the iallootu to mire. The Fiazhat, without the dry land begin to suffer and the world begins to become a swamp world again. Fiazhat cluster together begging to their silent gods for assistance. Their prayers do not go unanswered.
The mucor senses a shift in the world. The magic transported by the false gods of the Fiazhat causes a catastrophic shift at the core of the world. Earthquakes tear open and swallow the swamps into subterranean lairs then close over again in the ensuing madness. Burun are split into two pairs surface dwellers and those that were drawn into the deep mire without the light of The Sleepless One.
The climate shift causes the rains to cease and the land begins to burn once more.
Fiazhat culture strengthens and grows as they spread across the growing burning lands. They are hampered still by the Burun that dwell in the great swamps, but over time they begin to gain the upper hand. In-fighting begins anew.
Surface dwelling Burun nomads are drawn into four great swamps that still cover the surface of the world. These four swamps are connected by six great rivers of flowing muck. The Surface dwelling Burun are forced to exist on smaller creatures. They are free of the moar, but their diet diminishes and they evolve into lither creatures. The mucor are drawn beneath the world and the little magic that the Burun of the surface can muster is a pale comparison to what they once commanded. They live in fear and fight a losing war against the Fiazhat for the next one thousand cycles.
Subterranean Burun evolve into two castes. The caverns are large and devoid of any light save for the koru koru. In the dark, the Burun are hunted by the moar. The first evolve into hardy combatants, towering beasts of power. The second evolve into giants filled with the power of magic. They survive in a symbotic tandem for the next thousand cycles. The bloated Burun have a cunning command over the warriors and all but control their small minds.
The Fiazhat are stricken by a second shifting of the climate of the world that devastates their advancing culture. Many of their villages are destroyed and the temples to their gods are damaged. The Fiazhat make their way to the temples in fear, and perhaps hope that they are to be visited again. But the gateways remain silent.
-- Ikakhe
Report to Niarltah (#8)
After the success of the last report, we have decided that all future missives will be handled in such a manner. Torgluuk has yet to make mention if he is aware of our machinations.
Ikakhe
Translation
During one thousand cycles moar that were returned to Bur by the false gods are nearly eradicated as they are hunted by the lumbering Burun for food. Their smaller cousins that were not taken continue to hunt, kill and eat Burun that are unwary. The surviving Burun locked beneath the surface of Bur enact the great rites of The Sleeping One and continue to preach his praise. Six leaders are chosen. These leaders are all bloated beasts who have grown fat on the power of the world.
They consume the mucor and know much of what transpires across the world. They come to think of The Sleeping One as the underground swamp in which they live. Dark, potent and pock marked with pustules of filth. They herald a time when it will crack the world and a flood will carry them to the surface to bring vengeance to their enemies.
The Burun in the great swamps continue to preach the tales of The Sleeping One, but lack of mucor and poisoning from various molds, fungus and algae that are now used to enact rites drive many of the surface dwelling Burun mad. They envision their god as an amorphous pustule of slick muck covered in pustules that vomit putrescence onto the world. The madness is spared of a small contingent of Burun that have access to the mucor. This group of Burun adhere to The Sleeping One's true form as the watcher in the sky.
Fiazhat, without the guidance of their gods, continue to show reverence to those that brought them to the height of this world. Spoken tradition gives way to a written tradition. Cities are built once more and the temples crafted to their gods are returned to former splendor. Storytellers become the voice of the gods and are chosen as leaders for their people. Wars are forgotten and the Burun become an afterthought of Fiazhat culture in the ensuing five thousand cycles.
-- Ikakhe
Report to Niarltah (#9)
We believe that we are nearing the end of the book. We will furnish our latest findings as we collect them.
Ikakhe
Translation
Fiazhat society peaks with the introduction of farming, building, writing, artistry and small advances in technology. (*There are references to channels of water being brought to fields from standing water, and advanced crafting of weapons.) Peace has reigned for nearly four thousand cycles and evolution has left the Fiazhat behind. They are still beings that use a powerful tail to propel themselves along the surface.
They have four powerful arms and a thick hide that covers their body, and hoods. But nothing has changed beyond this.
Many younger Fiazhat believe that the temples crafted to the six gods of their people are folklore. They doubt that the Burun ever existed and wish to strike out across the world.
Some do and never return.
Burun in the surface mire are all nearly mad, enact the rites of calling the rains for a full cycle.
The few sane Burun in the swamps continue to preach the teachings and way of The Sleeping One learned from the mucor. Change must occur not be forced.
Subterranean Burun begin great rites to call the rains, several of the bloated Burun have lived for over three thousand years at this point growing so immense in size that they can only be moved if carried on litters.
Moar in the subterranean world develop quickly breeding with a small handful of the species returned by the Fiazhat's gods. Burun beneath the surface are unaware of this or have chosen to no longer consider the moar a threat.
-- Ikakhe
Report to Niarltah (#10)
We are certainly nearing the end of the book now Niarltah. The pages here are much fresher, though still ancient by our standards.
Ikakhe
Translation
Rains come and blot The Sleeping One's eye from the sky. In fear, outposts of Fiazhat return to the temples. They build crude houses and pray to their gods who remain silent.
After twenty cycles of rain a pit opens in the greatest burning land and an earthquake shifts the subterranean layer back to the surface. The Burun who have lived beneath the surface of the world for so long return to the great swamps and press the surface dwelling Burun into service.
The six great leaders of the Burun organize their clutches and move toward the former burning lands. The surface Burun pressed into service by their masters begin to shed the madness of the years as they are exposed to the mucor again. The Burun masters quickly restrict the intake of the mucor from the lesser Burun and hunt and execute those who violate the edicts.
Along with the release of the Burun who lived beneath the surface of Bur comes a great contagion. Fiazhat die by the millions and their culture begins to crumble again. Having clustered so close together when the rains first began, the Fiazhat are rife with disease within months. Over the course of ten cycles, there are forty two million reported deaths amongst the Fiazhat.
The mucor records all of the devastation and the Burun masters learn this information and prepare to strike the final blow against the Fiazhat; their once brothers.
A massive campaign begins across the world. A great temple to The Sleeping One is erected at six locations across Bur. These locations are remote and reflect what become the six great swamps of Bur over the next five hundred cycles.
The campaign against the Fiazhat begins with a slaughter of the temple at Guruul. A small tree is all that is left living in the area.
For the next eight hundred cycles the climate settles and The Sleeping One is revered as the greatest god on Bur. The devastation of the Fiazhat peoples leaves them easy prey for the Burun and they are destroyed with ease as they are encountered.
Their culture in ruins, the Fiazhat strike for the heart of the deepest burning land only to find that the Burun have developed new rituals which devour the land and alter it into a fetid swamp like their homes.
Food sources that the Burun consume are tainted by the contagion that nearly eradicated the Fiazhat and three of the chosen Burun die in a marvelous displays of explosive mana. Giant craters are quickly filled in with Burun mire called from The Sleeping One. Three new leaders are chosen.
Ten cycles pass before the Burun rejoin their crusade to destroy the Fiazhat.
The last remaining Fiazhat have used that time wisely and send assassins to kill the first amongst the Burun leaders, Browerk. They are captured and subjected to a unique form of torture that entraps the soul of the creatures and tears all the living secrets from within. Armed with the knowledge of the last Fiazhat settlement on all of Bur the Burun converge and nearly eradicate the once great race.
-- Ikakhe
Report to Niarltah (#11)
We have just finished our final translation, but it is not the end of the book. Torgluuk has become aware of us. He was waiting when we returned the book this day. There was an unspoken threat in the way he stood before us. Without the ability to harm him, we thought we would be better served to not press the issue. He said if we wish to know what is written within the remainder of the book all we need do is ask.
Ikakhe
Translation
After the defeat of the Fiazhat there is a short time of peace. But castes develop and the smaller Burun are pressed into indentured servitude.
The three castes are referred to as Kukuur, Guruk and Ruuk.
Kukuur are the ruling caste, bloated by powerful magic gifted to them by The Sleeping One, they are the leaders of the clutches and maintain tight control over the small minded Guruk.
Guruk are the sturdiest warriors of the Burun and are possessed of terribly small intellect. During the ensuing years they become cannibalistic, consuming the Ruuk.
Ruuk watching their brethren become meals to their larger cousins begin to speak of revolt.
The revolt is short-lived and bloody. Both sides suffer many casualties and one of the eldest Kukuur is killed. In the end, cannibalism is outlawed and many of the Ruuk are sent to form clutches at the places where the Fizhat's false gods first made their appearances.
Browerk issues the prophecy of Revenge: The prophecy spells out a vision that the mucor granted of The Sleeping One opening his eye after a time of great sadness and allowing the Burun to visit death and humiliation upon the Fiazhat's gods. This proclamation instills the strength of the hierarchy and reinforces belief in the Kukuur as the true leaders of the Burun.
Small pockets of Fiazhat are discovered still living in burning lands across Bur. Hunter packs are created that find their way across the surface eradicating any areas of the Fiazhat as they go. Within five hundred cycles there are no remnants of the Fiazhat race left on Bur.
A time of peace reigns for another five hundred years. After nearly thirty three thousand cycles Browerk, the leader of all Burun, gestates his single egg. The birth is portentous and his offspring Tkrowerk is expected to take his place after Browerk's death.
Tkrowerk is too forward thinking and violates the edicts to not feed mucor to the Ruuk. The small pocket of Ruuk who are fed the mucor are sent to Tkoruk Guruul and Tkrowerk is put to death by his father. After his death, The Sleeping One's eye closes and the rains begin anew.
Bur is now covered entirely by swamp.
Sixty cycles after Tkorwerk's death the moar make their way from beneath the world as one. They begin to lay waste to remote outposts of Burun populated solely by Ruuk. Word reaches the six clutch masters and they send no help. Moar devastate several more outposts and still no response.
For thirty more cycles there is no response until the Kukuur are threatened. They enact a great rite and try to eradicate the moar as one. They fail and are shaken. They retreat to the safety of the Great Swamps and the temples that they have built to The Sleeping One. Ruuk are left to fend across the entirety of Bur.
The mucor is blind to the moar as they rampage across the world. They have changed even more while in the underworld and cannot be seen by the fungus.Battles go poorly and several crops of young are lost to the encroaching moar, after one hundred and twelve cycles of fighting, a tunnel at Tkoruk Guruul blasts to life.
-- Ikakhe