An excerpt from The Depths of Norhaven: A Complete Guide, Volume Three – Of the Warrens and the Sect of Eloth, by Alerdy Parlyle…… Thus, when the self-styled Prophet Rosh’Urrien claimed that a new god promised to lead him to sanctuary there were many – desperate and homeless – that were willing to follow him. So it was that the Sect of Eloth was born and the Warrens came into being.
I have been to the Warrens, and I must say that I am unimpressed by the twisting, rat-like network of tunnels they call home. But then I passed through the final maze of ramshackle buildings, and I looked into the dark waters of the central Lake, and saw for myself the ancient, outlandish structures of the Forgotten City. I cannot deny that any scholarly wonder was tempered by soul-gripping terror. As I continued to stand and stare, I could not help but ask – as so many must have asked before me, and as so many must certainly ask after I am gone – just how long had this strange city, built by hands unknown, slowly crumbled in darkness of the bowels of the world?
The ruins – called Elothos by the Sect - have long resisted any attempts to decipher their mysteries, and it is likely that only the Grand Elothiar himself really knows the truth. For it is only he who can translate the monstrous language of Those Who Came Before, and it has been this way ever since Rosh’Urrien founded the Sect in 240AD, becoming its first Prophet.
The Sect itself dominates all business of the Warrens, including the lucrative sale of artifacts and wonders salvaged from Elothos. They claim that it is through their worship of the mysterious ‘god’ Eloth that the people of the Warrens are kept safe. Whether this is true or not, I cannot say, for all but a few of the workings and machinations of the Sect itself are kept secret by its leaders. Those few rumours which do escape – and which I will give no credence by repeating here any more than necessary – speak of macabre rituals and sinister pledges.
Whatever the case, the Sect offers sanctuary to all who are prepared to at least pay lip service to their god. The Scholar in me knows that it is unfair to judge an entire people by the oddities of a few – not everyone in the Warrens is a member of the Sect, after all - but you only have to see a Warrensfolk for yourself to know that there is something most peculiar about them. That they are willing to live in proximity to such a chilling mystery and tolerate the strange practices and beliefs of the Sect in order to survive speaks volumes about their mental character if nothing else …
The Warrens:Isolde Carver had never been what she would have considered a "good" person. Life underground could be tough. Resources were often thin, but she found that she had a certain talent for acquiring things that were not her own. Better yet, she could get away with it. Oh, she had had occasional encounters with the law in Gauth before, such as it was, and so she came to the Warrens. What better place to get lost for a while? There she had fallen in with a gang operating out of the Canals. Bill Tayn was their leader, and he was an experienced sort of Jack, fair and easy-going, and they got along just fine. They pulled dozens of jobs together, and for a while, Isolde thought things might be on the up.
The trouble started with that damned statuette.
She wished she had never laid hands on it. How was she to know? It had been a job like any other. It was posted in the Grotto just like all the rest. In hindsight, the fact that none of the other priggers would touch the job should have tipped her off. Tayn didn't object, though, and she had needed the money badly. It was just a statuette, after all. It was easy enough to take it. Who cares if it belonged to some uppity old albino?
It was no sooner than she had liberated the object from its owner's possession than the Warrens got strangely grim. The people - those damned Elothi freaks - seemed to know something was amiss. Maybe it was all in her mind, but they even looked at her funny as she had left Elothos. The cave walls themselves in the Warrens seemed to press in on her. It was not even an hour before the guardsmen - and those
damned Vindicators - had gotten into a tizzy over it. It wasn't much later that she had overheard men talking about a stolen ceremonial scepter head. Apparently, the statuette had some kind of significance to the Sect.
Well, she didn't waste any time getting rid of the thing then and dumped it into the canal. That was her second mistake, again in hindsight. Tayn would know what to do. She had to go talk to him. As it would happen, though, there were two of those albinos
in their cellar when she got to their hideout, a musty disused section of the ruins in a side tunnel. They were talking to Bill. She never did find out what they said to him, but it must have been pretty convincing, because he turned her right over. The bastard.
That was then.
Now, she was running, running for her life, stumbling through what seemed like endless damp crawlspaces and muddy passages. Her hands were still bound together but she had managed to slip her feet out of the rope that had held them together. After Tayn had given her over to the Elothi, they had tied her and brought her to a strange place, a chamber deep in the city at the center of which was a large, dark pool. She had heard of Eloth before, of course, but she had always just assumed it was some kind of nutty religious superstition some of the Warrensfolk kept, some kind of lake monster they say protected the tunnels but was more likely an invention of the Prophet to keep them in line and under his thumb. In the chamber, they had kept chanting the name.
Eloth. Eloth. She had already freed her feet and had been biding her time, waiting for them to become caught up in their bizarre ceremony to escape.
But then she had glimpsed it under the waters - a colossal, amorphous, tentacled form. Its muculent flesh had crept closer to the surface until a cluster of lifeless, black eyes had shown and the abhorrent, writhing mass filled the entirety of the visible pool. It was then that her previous anxiety over her capture turned to abject terror. Even from what little she had seen of the creature, Isolde had been sure no more abominable a thing must exist on Arafean. Even the Elothi had ceased their chant and seemed to be taken aback by its repugnant appearance. Isolde was overcome with revulsion and fear, and she ran.
She made it far, too. The cultists had been just distracted enough when the monster had begun to emerge from the water that she had put many paces between them before they even knew she was gone. Isolde thought she might have been safe once she got out of Elothos. The Warrens were a maze, and good for hiding, but the Elothi were everywhere searching for the statuette. She had to get out. To Avera's Hope maybe. The blood pounded in her ears and her lungs burned, but still she ran.
As she rounded a corner, she nearly collided with an armored figure. A
Vindicator. Her pursuers called for him to stop her, and that he did. His shield arm swung about and connected squarely as she tried to dash around him.
Isolde fell.
As the Vindicator raised his sword, her pursuers called out again.
"No! No," the cultist panted as he finally caught up. "She is to be taken alive and
unspoiled."
The armored figure seemed to know what this meant and sheathed his blade. More cultists descended upon them and they set to tying Isolde once more. She knew there would be no escape this time. They were going to take her back to that horrid monster. She cried out in desperation. The Warrensfolk who had witnessed the scene looked on dispassionately as she struggled. None moved to help her. It was the damnedest thing. For whatever reason, she could only think to say or, rather, scream one thing as the gag was being placed over her mouth.
"Eloth watches! Eloth watches!"
Subrace: The Elothi-Human
-Dwarven
-Elven
-Gnomish
These people have sought refuge in the Warrens, gaining the protection of the Sect in return for acceptance of the Sect's teachings and beliefs. Some may be active members of the Sect. Level of religious dedication varies from one individual to the next, although it would be a very brave Elothi indeed who would dare openly criticise it.
Elothi are widely believed to be a little strange, with many of them displaying odd habits. The haunted 'Elothi look' is common. Elothi of all types tend to be quiet individuals, rarely prone to humour and merriment.
All Elothi share a similar albino appearance.
