Fortress of Gellerconti
The Tollomarki Mountains are place on the surface of Descolada where every shadow conceals unspeakable wickedness. These mountains, cloaked in an aura of malevolence, hold secrets that would chill even the bravest of hearts. The Tollomarki stretch their jagged fingers towards the heavens, a formidable barrier that dares to challenge those who would traverse this treacherous layer. Yet, amid this foreboding landscape, there lies a single passage – the Fozark Pass. It’s a narrow corridor that weaves through the very heart of these peaks, the only way through this formidable unnatural barrier.
At the mouth of the Fozark Pass stands the Fortress of Gellerconti, a sentinel of glowing stone and ironwood that guards the entrance. This fortress, a bastion of grim purpose, serves as both gatekeeper and warning. A gatekeeper against the horrors that swarm within the Pass, and warning against the horrors that await on the mountains.
For within the Tollomarki Mountains, a darkness festers. The very mountains themselves have been formed from the corpses of countless insects and vermin, a macabre amalgamation of death and decay. Imagine the bones and chitin of these creatures, interwoven like a morbid tapestry, giving shape to the very peaks that cast long shadows across the land.
If you venture deeper into the mountains, be prepared for a symphony of horror to assault your senses. Shadows writhe and twist, as if they harbour a malevolent sentience. The very air seems to carry a sense of dread, a weight that presses upon your chest with each step. And amid the twisted valleys and winding pathways, the wickedness of the mountains takes on a tangible form, creatures of darkness that slink and crawl, their presence an affront to all that is good and pure.
But unbelievably, amidst this darkness, there is a flicker of hope. The Fortress of Gellerconti serves as a bulwark against the terrors that dwell within Descolada. It’s a small oasis of resistance, a fragile line of defense against the malevolence that seeks to spread its influence. But what is a place like this doing in such a terrible part of the Abyss?
The dark is the ones who raised this fortress were not mere mortals, but the noble eladrin, beings of grace and magic, driven by an unwavering purpose. Once, in the distant echoes of time, the land that is now Descolada was a haven of beauty and lushness in the plane of Arborea. A vibrant forest stretched its emerald arms towards the heavens, a realm where the delicate dance of the seasons was accompanied by the songs and laughter of the Clan Gellerconti of eladrin who called it home. These delightful beings thrived amid the verdant foliage, weaving magic and harmony into every corner of their forest. They tended and nurtured the land and embraced the essence of life that pulsed through it.
Yet, the shadows of fate are oftentimes cruel and twisted. In this idyllic paradise, Tharzax, the deceitful lord of insects, schemed from the shadows. His malevolent eyes gazed upon the beauty that the eladrin had nurtured, and envy burned within him like a consuming fire. He yearned to claim this realm for his own, as canvas for his swarms of vermin and to create a monument to his wicked desires.
Tharzax, clever and cunning, wove a web of deceit that would forever change the fate of the forest. He disguised himself as a benign creature, a radiant butterfly that danced between the blossoms. The eladrin, their hearts open and their trust unwavering, welcomed this seemingly innocent being into their midst. With honeyed words and false promises, Tharzax spun his tale. He spoke of a grand partnership, an alliance between his kin and the eladrin, a harmonious coexistence that would elevate both races to new heights. The eladrin, ensnared by his silver-tongued lies, saw only the allure of power, the colourful beauty of his wings and the promise of prosperity.
And so they agreed to Tharzax’s proposition. The Gellerconti opened their hearts and shared their magic, weaving spells that bound their fate to the lord of insects. They believed that unity would blossom like the very flowers in their forest, unaware of the treacherous trap that had been set. But as the eladrin compelted their spells, Tharzax’s true nature emerged like a venomous hornet. The harmony they had sought was soon twisted into a nightmare. His vermin, once kept in check by the eladrin’s magic, grew uncontrollable, their swarms consuming the very heart of the forest, feasting on the plants and stripping the trees. The lushness that the eladrin had nurtured turned to decay, the beauty of the land withering beneath the onslaught of Tharzax’s vermin.
And in the end, the eladrin’s own magic, meant to bind them to the lord of insects, became their prison. They used their last energiess to raise a fortress, a last bastion of hope to defend against the verminous hordes, but it was too little and too late. The eladrin were trapped within the spells they had woven, forced to witness the destruction of their paradise. The forest that had once been a symbol of life and beauty now stood as a testament to betrayal and tragedy. As Tharzax reveled in his triumph, his new dominion of decay slipped away from Arborea and tumbled down, down to the depths of the Lower Planes, before coming to rest in the Abyss. Descolada was the old eladrin name for the forest, and Tharzax kept it, for it amused him. Cut off from Arborea, the eladrin slowly faded away, becoming wailing banshee spirits, while Tharzax grew in power and status, eventually becoming a tanar’ri lord.
The Fortress of Gellerconti still stands, its magic repelling all attempts by Tharzax to purge it from the layer. After some time, he gave up trying to destroy it and his focussed instead on battling his nemeses Gazzell’et and Camazotz. What he did not realise is that while the fortress is inaccessible to him and his vermin hordes, the doors will spring open to any being pure of heart. One small problem is that the fortress is apparently still haunted by banshee, so it’s perhaps a less than an inviting place to visit. But for desperate cutters trying to escape the maddening hordes of the layer, perhaps the lesser of two evils? And perhaps a truly noble blood could do something to free the trapped spirits of the eladrin clan.
Source: Jon Winter-Holt, mimir.net