Notes on the Diadem of Triumph — by Harrold T. Beauregard

The Dwarves had carved caves deep into the mountains of Rhodezephrys long before the Children had come from Isulstad. Before even the making of the Inner Sea, Mare On, when the lands surrounding the Mountain of the Gods were not sea but a vast plain of field and flower. Before the Hammer of Telassón struck the mountains asunder to pour his protection around the Mountain of the Gods.

In an age forgotten, the Dwarves, masters of stone, made a world of unimaginable wonder beneath the earth. Cities of magnificent grandeur, stretching the length of mountain ranges. Cavernous Great Halls carved straight from the stone of craftsmanship unseen of in time such as now, where man has long been separated from his Immortal Makers. The hardy Dwarves constructed gateways to the surface from their Mountain Halls, hidden doors in crevasses of rock. Few dwarves ever left their dwellings, but at times they wished to visit kin across the Great Plain in the mountains beyond.

One of these such Dwarves, a grizzled adventurer named Snogri, had recently returned from a delve deep into the Lair of a fire demon. Slaying the beast, he had torn its eyes from their sockets when he discovered them to be immense rubies. He journeyed back up to the Dwarven Realm with restored vigor, for jewels are a Dwarf’s greatest treasure. Taking the gems to the greatest jewelcrafter, Herul Korg, he asked for a circlet of gold with the rubies to adorn. Herul Korg would, centuries later, during the Golden Age forge the Helm of Sight for Anaxaneas and the Amulet of the Dead.

Herul Korg worked long with the precious stones, perfectly carving the edges into the finest jewels. Then taking True Gold from the even-flowing molten veins of the earth, he wrought a crown of unspeakable beauty. He placed the gigantic rubies upon its brow. Great power was invested into the Diadem of Triumph’s shaping. Though that was not the name he gave it. Smulov-koring was the Dwarven title for this wonderous icon of power, meaning: the band plucked from the fires of the earth. The magnificent power with the diadem would grow through the ages, burgeoning forth a font of magical force to be tamed by its holder.

Few have unearthed that much of the story. The true name had been hidden in ancient scrolls, tucked far away in the Catacombs of Isulstad. I spent years beneath the island city searching for answers. Coming across fountains of knowledge, untapped for centuries, I never found the script I sought though. Never was able to reverse the curse I lay upon myself in killing that Gyro-sphinx while it was imprisoned in the Underworld. Other trifles, such as the story behind the Diadem, fill my mind these days. The search for a cure, I long ago abandoned…

Snogri, the brave adventuring dwarf, sought to take his new treasure to a young dwarf maiden far to the east in the White Mountains. He left his home through one of their hidden dwarven entrances and set off across the Great Plain, alone. Many long months he journeyed before he came to the White Mountains, rearing tall and magnificent before him. Snogri had not been to these mountains for many long years, but he remembered the way.

Coming to the hidden entrance to his kin’s home in the dead of night, he was attacked by foul creatures. Some stories I came across, spoke of wolves walking on two feet, others of great bearish monstrosities with rotting flesh. A few even claimed that it was vile men who attacked him. Time has swept the truth from the story however. The Diadem was taken and Snogri left for dead. His kin found him dyeing in the snow. And all he spoke of was the treasure, its wonderous light. Smulov-koring for his lover’s brow.

Parties were set out to find the attackers, but none found a trace of where they had gone. It was not until thousands of years later, when Anaxaneas emerged from the White Mountains with an army from the Vale of Night, that the Diadem was seen again. He had only ever given hints as to its resting place. He spoke of ancient powers and enemies vying for its possession. A fire burning bright within the earth, waiting for him to pluck.

Anaxaneas never wore the crown himself, but lay it upon the brow of his daughter, Na’daren the Gifted, ancestor of the current Matriarch of Tetricala. In the intervening time, it’s power had grown immense, almost untamable. Only the most powerful of Sorceresses of Anaxaneas line has been able to wear it for their entire lives, many having to give up the Diadem, unable to withstand its magical weight. Some have had power so great, they have even worn the Amulet of the Dead with it, as Aaura Agogri, the last Matriarch, did.

All comes back into one timeless circle. A circle of endless blood will flow, for the Sons of Merrodan, who claim the lineage of Anaxaneas also, will have no other claimant to their hegemony in the West. It has been fortold that they will besiege this city and seek to take the Diadem from the Matriarch for their own, solidifying their claim to imperial power and dominance over all the other ancient Kingdoms.

The Amulet I am bound to was made much later though, in the Golden years of Anaxaneas. The Diadem of Triumph had grown too immense power from the many powerful enemies Anaxaneas had to defeat in his rise to power, so the Emperor reassembled the Hammer of Thelune and had the Dwarven smith, Herul Korg, siphon some of its accumulated power, to create the Amulet of the Dead and the Helm of Sight.

The Amulet the Dead holds the power over the souls of thousands of defeated Demons and Monsters. I am bound to it through a curse, which was placed upon me by the Sphinx, Karaxima, when Aaura and I slew him in his prison in the 5th Circle of the Abyss. To save Aaura from the curse, I landed the killing blow, as the rest of our party of adventurers had fallen. When I died a few years later, from an assassin’s blade meant for her, I found myself reincarnated, or at least undead-ified, and compelled to protect the Amulet’s bearer. A backlash from the Amulet of the Dead being present as we slew the Sphinx.

The Amulet of the Dead and Diadem of Triumph have been passed down through the ancient line of the Emperor to a small girl, who grew up stealing away from her mother’s palace to run rampant on the docks with dirty urchins. But she’s got what it takes to send these Necromancers back to the Abyss! I tell you! She does.