|Location||The Legend of Dead Kel|
Gallows End is a Lorestone set in Kingdoms of Amalur: Re-reckoning.
Cycle, the First: The Erathi
Greetings, dear Nette. If I view this as a personal correspondence, it makes the distance bearable, keeps the fear at bay. You know how expeditionary travel vexes me.
I shall begin....
I was not certain what to expect following my disembarkation upon this grim isle.
After initial investigation, there appears to be a significant Erathi presence, one that predates any other signs of organized life on the island.
It is a curious thing. Why would such beings descend to this wounded realm? Whatever beckoned to them, it must have been incredibly powerful. More research is needed.
Be well, dear Nette. I miss you.
- Cycle, the First: The Alfar
You would not enjoy the awkward scrambles needed to traverse this isle, my love. They are treacherous.
I must resemble those tumblers we witnessed in Sun Camp all those many nights ago, reeling and twisting.
The Erathi were not the only inhabitants of Gallows End -- though surely the oldest.
Natural caverns in the north and south boast evidence of a variety of other visitors -- both man and beast.
Alfar weapons and armor litter the beaches, treasures for the taking.
They, too, seem to have departed in haste.
It is a troubling trend. What is terrorizing everyone?
Give my good wishes to the Templars, dear Nette. As always, you are in my thoughts.
- Cycle, the First: The Pirate
Oh, Nette, if only you could only see the skies over Gallows End... Magnificent.
Do you recall the baseborn myth of the pirate king? They called him Dead Kel. Well, he lives, my love, and is as existent as you or I.
Not only that, but he has quite the harbor on our hidden isle. Years of his miserable life have been spent in this grand endeavor, time that could have been better spent.
Strange. All my records indicate that Dead Kel was butchered not long ago, by the Alfar of all people. Clearly, such reports were erronious.
I must tread carefully. Dead Kel's minions prowl the wharfs and tidal pools, and he promises the gallows to any who come seeking his capture.
I do not want to risk a... misunderstanding.
Oh Nette, I grow so weary of this isolation. This leave-taking may very well be the death of me.
- Cycle, the First: The Dverga
The faer gorta have discovered my presence. They hunt me deep into the evenings, poking their torch-lit skulls into every nook and fasting. I cannot tarry here, not for long.
It has become apparent that the Dverga were the last civilized race to inhabit Gallows End, if you can call the dwarfs civilized.
Remnants of their dominion scar the isle from top to bottom, culminating in the great keep of Gravehal in the south. However, I can locate no reference to such a place in the Frostbreak Omnibus.
Their occupation was provisory, at best, another group come and gone.
What was that? A sound... footsteps?
My nerves are fraying, dear Nette. Adessa is all that I fancy. Your face and the comforts of home.
I must go, for they come....
- Cycle, the First: Akara
I hear him, dear Nette. I hear him in every waking hour, a voice like the rumble of thunder, and one I shall never forget. I must confess: my expedition is over.
Dead Kel and his Hanged Men have tracked me to this chamber. They call for blood.
Apparently, they prize their preciously cultivated mystery.
It is another weapon they can wield against the outside world. And what am I but light of truth, a bright spear with which to slay their darkness?
But the voice... it reaches out to me. It promises to shelter me from the coming storm.
He calls himself Akara, but I do not know what this means.
What have I done by coming here? I only wished to learn the unknowable, discover the forgotten.
And you were right, dear Nette. You were right.....
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