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Ardathium Vol. I  

WT: 0.5 Size: SMALL
Language:Common Tongue
Item Type:Book
Lucy Entry By:Kerasota
Item Updated By:Aanuvane
IC Last Updated:2019-04-17 11:16:47
Page Updated:Sun Jul 5th, 2009
Planes of Power Item

Rarity: Common
Level to Attain: N/A

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Book Text:

These brief details are
conclusions drawn by me
in my brief encounter with
the ruins of this lost
citadel. I cannot claim any
word of this to be absolute
truth, for the information I
had available was vague,
if not cryptic through the
impenetrable veil of
ignorance and time that
shadowed my vision.
Throughout the whole of
Norrath's libraries and
scholars, I was not able to
find a single shred of
evidence or legend relating
to this place. Eerily, it was
as if it had never existed,
that the memory of Norrath
itself had torn Ardathium
from its mind.

Ardathium - that is the name

of the place I shall detail
as best I can in these pages.
A glorious citadel
constructed by the first
followers of Mithaniel Marr
in what is now known as the
Southern Desert of Ro. I know
for certain that this place
exists, or existed, though in
unfortunate, irreparable ruin
beneath the unforgiving sands
of the desert. I have been
there, and I have seen it.
I cannot tell you where or
how to enter this place, for
I was forced to leave
prematurely during my
investigation of the site.
An earthquake forced me to
escape, or be buried alive
with the city's forgotten
dead. Unfortunately, the
earth swallowed the
city further into its belly,

the topmost portion of
Ardathium's tower was buried
deep beneath the sands once
more. I cannot say when or if
the city will rise again
through the will and labor
of united men and it would be
the wasted energies of a fool
to hope for as much within
our lifetimes.

In the two and a half days
that I was allotted the
opportunity to explore the
standing portions of this
place, I learned so little
and yet, so much. A great
library had once been housed
within the walls of the white
and golden city of Truth.
Though most of the tomes
have dissolved into dust in
the cruel clutches of time, I
was fortunate to find a few

legible documents, preserved
by the desert's heat. The
script was ancient, but I
recognized bits and pieces
of the runic tongue of old.
This story is one that I have
concluded to be a possible
fate of Sir Grenic Drere, the
hero of our tale, and the
fate of the city of

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