Jorann, I have much to tell you! This adventure is proving to be quite a learning experience. After the big battle with the were beast, it seems that Boraen was cursed with some strange anger issues. It is difficult to explain, but his reactions are stranger than ever. I tried to cure disease on him, which is how I know that it is a curse and not a disease. The reaction when I tried to cure him is of importance here as I myself was almost overcome by a divine force which seemed somehow familiar. When I had some time later, I prayed to Tangadorin for guidance. He revealed to me that this was a curse by a follower of the Dark God Mal???. He was an enemy of Tangadorin, and he warned me that if he learned of my existence, he would certainly destroy me.

We heard strange noises which turned out to be the cries of a caged Hippogriff. We fought the bandits who appeared about to do it harm, and freed it from the cage. Just then, a huge Wyrm crawled over the ridge and attacked us. It was a mighty battle, and Fergus gave it a mighty strike which killed the beast. Even the Hippogriff bowed to him before it flew off.

After we continued on our way, we met a group of men which escorted us to a camp. We were enjoying our rest when a group of froggers came to the leader and accused us of stealing their gold. Their leader asked us to answer these charges, whereupon we all claimed innocence. Their leader told us he would sleep on it and pass judgement in the morning.

Soon after a blind woman came stumbling into camp. She had been blinded and her ma had been taken. I summoned the power of Tangadorin to release her from this affliction. The guards and camp followers were greatly impressed with the power of Tangadorin, and the woman was overcome with emotion. I spent the remainder of the night telling her and anyone else who was interested about the glory and power of Tangadorin.

The camp leader was so impressed that he released us and gave Pyria a token to show that she had sworn that she was no enemy of the Southron Duchy.

We determined that the woman’s home was in the direction we were travelling and decided to accompany her home.

I produced the receipt showing the amount of gold we’d spent for the soup and jerky, so Mosby paid up. The frog farmers were glad to have their loss recompensed and they went their way and we went ours after a pleasant shared breakfast. Our road took us west along the road, paralleling the river as it ran across the grasslands my folk once travelled in their hordes. We took our lunch in a pleasant grove of trees, one of many that dotted the plains as the woods to the north faded out.

Midafternoon, the sharper-eared of us heard an eagle’s cry, and we made our way north toward the sound. Nann and Talvi scouted ahead, the rest of us cautiously following. Halfway to the woods, Nann hobbled her horse and went ahead on foot. As we came up, we also dismounted and hobbled our horses.

Nann and Talvi came back to tell us that several bandits had a hippogriff caged and were trying to move that cage to a cart. Anguished cries from the hippogriff (answered by an unnerving low bass rumble) convinced us to charge in and free the noble beast – Wikton and I were particularly keen to do this, but everyone agreed. Tasso and Luna stayed back with the horses (and Hollin) as the rest of us made our move.

Nann and Beth drew first blood, but Beth was hit herself. I went to her side to aid her as Boraen jumped at the bandits. Talvi ran to join him. Pyrea put a stop to the battle when she cast sleep on all the surviving bandits. Wikton began battering at the lock; Boraen tried to bend the bars of the cage to free the hippogriff. I helped Beth to her feet.

But then, clambering over the slope came a great green scaled beast. This was a fearsome beast, easily 50 feet long if it were an inch! Boaraen and the wyrm charged at each other, and the wyrm belched out a sickening green gas cloud. Boraen went down, and Grel and Wikton – who’d just smashed off the cage’s lock- reeled, retching. I cast faerie fire on the beast and prepared to charge in with my cudgel.And Fergus coolly stepped forward and shot an arrow into the wyrm’s craw, and straight through to its brain. The beast convulsed and rolled and perished. Boraen was too hurt to skin it.

This was an older wyrm, clearly, from its size, and the choking gas it blew out at its enemies over time weakened the bone structure around its nasal gas chamber. A well-placed arrow or spear could pierce the roof of the mouth and push through the cavity to paralyze or kill. Fergus’ arrow had hit perfectly. Even the hippogriff flew back to honor Fergus, wyrmslayer, before launching off with a screech to meet her mate.

As Wikton and Grel and Boraen got their strength back (with the help of some potent potables), Tasso, Luna and I took the arms, armor, outerwear, and scant treasure of the magically sleeping guards. Pyrea indicated they’d sleep until awakened, so Josef and Willie carefully carried them into the cage and locked them in. Josef, Willie, Luna, Tasso, and Hollin began to set up camp for the night.

And then it was time to investigate the lair. We found several gems, an ivory scroll case, a leather scroll case, a small gurgling flask, a headband, a gold seal, a primitive gold idol, a chain, and a chalice, as well as a great hoard of gold and silver. Perhaps a third of the gold pieces were from many centuries past, and it took us more than two hours to get the treasure out of the lair and up the narrow, stinking passage to the camp above.

Grel opened the leather scroll case to find a map, showing Southbridge and a set of ruins to the northeast. These ruins, a note said, contained the fabled Black Giant’s Eye. Wikton suggested that the idol may be bestial-made, possibly of an evil god. Pyrea looked at the scroll in the ivory case and determined it was a spell of confusion, which she kept. The potion, though, she could not identify, other than to say it was an oil. Beth sipped from it and then nearly bit her tongue off, which allowed us to realize this was an oil of sharpening, and Fergus asked to have it as his prize.

As we were settled for the evening, over dinner we discussed the further division of our spoils. A full share of the wealth was 75 gold pieces, 128 silver pieces, and 8 royals. Tasso and Luna were not in line for shares, but I gave each 25 gold pieces. We divided the jewelry – headband to Boraen, idol to Wikton, chalice to Beth, the seal to Grel, and the chain to me, and each of us took a gem. I got a huge topaz.

The next day dawned bright and warm, though the bandits still slept in their smallclothes in the cage. We decided to camp a few days, though Hollin fretted, to heal up our wounded. Pyrea put Boraen to sleep so we could treat him without interference from his dark side. Grel was able to bring him some comfort. I tended to Wikton, laying my hands on him twice to bring him the healing powers of the land.

The 19th day of autumn, as I returned from my solitary meditation, Nann pointed out to me a great winged black panther. It seemed to smell the skin of its kind, and was growling. I offered it dried sausage but was rebuffed with a snarl. I summoned the power to talk with animals, and asked it to explain. Old, long-dead, smoky meat – it would only eat that if it was half dead from hunger. Which it was not, so it would hunt its own fresh kill.

The panther demanded to know why we had the skin of one of its kind, why would we take the pelt? I explained that we had no fur – to stay warm or keep off the sun or fend off insects, we needed to make clothes. It lost interest and turned to go, as it was summoned – but I forestalled it. “Why,” I asked, “do your kind answer the summoner?” It looked at me queerly and said, “She calls, and I respond,” and It flew off to the northwest. I picked up the sausage, dusted it off, and enjoyed the snack

Wikton, Grel, and I together worked to heal Boraen. I think my ministrations made the difference, and the next day I tended his wounds again. On the 21st day of autumn, we woke Boraen and broke camp.

I could no longer hear the sounds of battle. Still webbed in among these odd birds, I resigned myself to the idea that Beth would loot the corpses. Only the Death Dealer seemed likely to have any treasure, at any rate. Luna and Tasso quickly dispatched the creatures in the web with me, then set to cutting me out.

Boraen was fairly torn up, but he was more concerned about his wolf. Talvi had mostly shaken off the poison from the blade, with some help from Nann and an antidote Boraen supplied.

Grel walked over and tried to cast remove curse on Boraen, who briefly looked enraged. Boraen told us there were two Boraens fighting in him, now, the result of the werewolf’s dying curse, and warned us to be wary casting healing spells upon him. As Boraen went to skin the winged panther, Grel confided to us that he had felt a dark force within Boraen.

I looked at the werewolf’s body as we stripped him of his arms, armor, clothes, and treasure. This man looked very like the ones Boraen had killed as they lay in magical sleep – and Nann recognized his tattoos and weapons as tribal-made. A symbol was carved into his chest, but wounds and bruises obscured its meaning.

On the road from the east then came a company of soldiers. We quickly slipped into our travelling alter-egos – Lady Arrington with her best friend Beth, me as her father’s trusted advisor Grigo, bodyguards and friends and fellow travelers. Grel was annoyed with the subterfuge, but he kept quiet as the force drew up ahead of us.

Their captain hailed us. We answered with our cover story, and Boraen spoke up to say we had been fighting wildmen and their pets. The captain came forward to see the bodies, and she recognized the creatures as from the mountains (save the birds – those she’d never seen) but shecould not explain why wildmen would be attacking us on the road, unless they were bandits.

Pyrea/Lady Arrington caught the leader’s eye, and the captain declared we must all go to see Lord Mosby, her liege. We’d run afoul of a new regulation – all elves needed a badge to prove their provenance. Apparently, elves had recently attacked the Southron Duchy! And while we’d come from the opposite direction as the attack, no one knew who those elves were or why they’d struck. Boraen was in such a weak state, though, that the troop elected to camp with us a few days as he regained strength.

And so we settled in, recuperating from the battle. I called up nature’s balm and soothed the injuries of my comrades. Boraen brooded as he recovered, cast aside his hammer and began to hone again his broadsword. We stayed in character the whole time and a couple of Mosby’s men came to be good friends of Fergus, Willie, and Josef. It had been many years since my people had come through here, so Tasso, Luna, and I were made much of, as well.

On the 16th day of Autumn, we pulled up stakes and proceeded east. Midday, we came to a small camp of perhaps three dozen soldiers, and a couple of more permanent structures going up. We dismounted and left our horses to be corralled and cared for, and Pyrea and Wikton walked with the captain to Lord Mosby’s tent.

Boraen asked about and found a spot on the camps outskirts to set up camp. Asking, too, about local legends of lycanthropy, he was referred to a priest – or possibly Lord Mosby. Pyrea, just out from her interview and in receipt of a wooden badge, went back to Mosby’s tent and learned that charms or potions could be used to invoke such a transformation. Wildmen, the Southron Duchy’s bulwark against the orcs, used tattoos and scars in rituals, some dating back to the time of the Dark Ones – and perhaps the scars on the Wildman we’d killed were some such symbol. Pyrea was told to seek the Wildmen leader Bearman for more information.

I asked Lord Mosby’s guards about security, acting concerned for the safety of Lady Arrington and of our horses and goods. I learned their patrol routes and schedules, some details about local hamlets, where to beware bandits. Wikton, meanwhile, helped out at the forge, but he made no converts.

Early evening, striding towards Mosby’s tent, came a couple of the froggers. Mosby emerged to talk with them, and then came to our cookfire with two guards. The frog farmers accused us of starting a brawl and, worse, of stealing all the camp’s money! Beth admitted she could not hold her liquor and apologized, but swore we did not steal the coins. Pyrea as Lady Arrington acted offended by the accusations; still Mosby persevered and asked each of us in turn about the accusation of theft.

I was the last to be questioned. I denied guilt and cast aspersions both on the bookkeeping and the security at the frogger camp. I pointed out that everyone had been watching the fight, if not trying to break it up. I asked why we littlelings were always the first suspects – there’d been other travelers, that night, too, but wasn’t it convenient to have the three of us to blame? A good bluff can pass for innocence, I thought, and really the evidence was purely circumstantial – I’d made sure of that!

Mosby sighed and said he would render a decision in the morning, and left the two guards to make sure we didn’t leave. We ate dinner and sat around the fire, as I tried to figure out a way to further cover my trail.

Early in the first watch, before I’d even fallen asleep, Fergus and Josef spied a young woman, clothes in tatters and apparently blind, stumbling along the road from the east. Fergus, Talvi, and one of our guards went out to meet her; Josef and the other guard woke the camp.

The woman – Hollin her name – sobbed out that she just wanted to go home, back to Kenneburton – a village some 5 days west. The last thing Hollin had seen was a beautiful dryad who had stolen her husband, Jacques. As she came into the camp and settled by our fire, Grel came up and offered to cure her blindness. The cure worked, and Hollin stuck close to Grel as she settled in for the night.

Early the next morning, I asked if I could leave the camp to meditate in nature. I was allowed, but warned to stay in plain sight. So much for my thought of burying the evidence – not a great plan, anyhow, as I’d have had to go back before we left to retrieve it. So I meditated by the woods, Wikton by the forge, and Grel prayed near our cookfire and wandered through the camp talking of Tangadorin (to no avail).

Mosby walked over to give his decision. We were clearly good folk, he said, as shown by our care for Hollin. Mosby would repay the frog farmers, if they could give a proper accounting of their loss, and we were free to go.

As Luna and Tasso prepared breakfast, Grel said Tangadorin had told him that another deity, Malachai, had cursed Boraen – and a level 5 cleric would be needed to lift the curse. Wikton told us of his meditation, in which he saw a cage and heard an eagle screech – and his god hates cages, so perhaps it was a sign to release captives. He also told us his offer to bless the forge was rebuffed. Fergus mused about the feathers we had seen, pulled his out to show some of the guards, who were astonished how long it was. One guard remembered stories of hippogriffs, with feathers this large, mating in the forest before flying back to the mountains, and shared a bit of folk wisdom– “if you hear the call of eagles, marriage is in the cards!”

A half hour’s ride south of the frog farmers, we set watches. I was more worried about them discovering they were missing a few coins than I was about the flaming arrows. Humans always look first to littlelings if they suspect theft, and three of us had been in their camp.

So I muddied the trail a bit more when I got up for second watch. I put 10 gold pieces in Beth’s pouch, for after all, I’d never have gotten to the coins had she not raised such a ruckus! I divided my gold between several pouches, burying the remaining Southron Duchy coins deep below some smoked fish.

Perhaps an hour into my watch, the sky turned a sullen purple and a hard rain began. This was the storm I’d been sensing, and it felt unnatural, and unnaturally long. It was a miserable night and following day – if you stood by a horse’s head, you could not see the tail! The ground we’d though fine for pitching tents turned soft, and the stakes pulled free. And when the storm had whipped past at dusk, insects swarmed in to plague us. We wrung ourselves out and rode south through the gathering dark.

After a few hours ride, we were beat – none more so than Wikton or Boraen, of course. Pyrea called to us that she was nearly falling from her steed in exhaustion. We’d passed the path of the storm and the ground was solid, so we made a hasty camp and rested.

Late in the third watch, Wikton noticed Tasso staring at him, but when Wikton moved to talk with him, Tasso scurried away. Wikton walked the perimeter, thought he saw movement to the northwest – and a flaming arrow flew up and hit him in the chest. Nann moved over by him, rousing me as she went. We saw the arrow, but Wikton insisted the it was but an illusion. Then came the familiar howl to wake the rest of the camp. If anyone slept through that, Boraen howled back. And there was another howl in reply! Boarean started walking to the northwest, Pyrea followed him.

I cast detect magic on the arrow to find it had clearly been ensorcelled – but it was a real arrow, so I told Wikton we were not fighting an illusionist, and I cured his very real wounds. Then came the full attack!

A small black winged cat dropped from the sky to attack Boraen. Pyrea saw this but also heard something big approaching. She called out a warning, and then another as a Death Dealer and a woman stepped out of the gloaming.

Boraen snapped the neck of the winged cat, dedicating its death to Meesha and his clan and tribe. But he gained a mortal enemy in the Death Dealer, whose brother the cat had been! The Death Dealer charged at Boraen, who leapt to meet him.

A huge stony-sided lizard came rushing out of the grass. Fergus, Wikton, Wilhelm, and Josef intercepted it, I think Fergus nicked it with his sword, but Wikton was thrown down. The beast was eventually overcome, but I didn’t see the fight, being otherwise occupied.

Tasso, Luna, and I charged at the woman, who snapped off a spell and Tasso and Luna dropped – just sleeping, but I didn’t know that at the time. I slung a rock at her; it hit as did an arrow from Nann’s bow. The spellcaster – perhaps the one who’d been such a thorn in the side of the Irecian forces? – chanted and waved, and 6 beakless birds with long spiky tails appeared and flew at me. Surrounded by the birds, I could not get another shot off at the woman. Soon, the birds covered me in sticky slime and I was completely out of the battle. Pyrea sent magic missiles at the woman, and was counterspelled, then turned to web all the birds together to end their attacks on me.

I could see Boraen exchanging blows with the Death Dealer. The Death Dealer’s skin rippled with every hit Boraen landed. Boraen struck the axe from the Death Dealer, knocked away his helmet, too, and I could see Boraen’s opponent shifting to wolf shape. Beth slipped in and slammed her dagger into the wolf’s neck, but not before Boraen had taken some bite wounds.

I saw Talvi running at the woman; from the screams, I think she bit the spellslinger. But Talvi yelped, too, slashed by a dagger. Talvi shook her head, unsteady, and vomited. The woman ran away, and Nann ran up to tend to Talvi.

Over breakfast on the twelfth day of Autumn, we talked about our best path through the Southron Duchy. Beyond a couple of game trails, we were in an untraveled area – I wondered if Ogre would be able to do much cargo ferrying. But the area along the riverbank was fairly clear so perhaps some enterprising folk might make use of him to avoid the toll bridges.

Still, the riverbank was steep enough to give us concern for the horses and ponies and wagon, and we knew we’d only a short way to go through the South Dale Woods to get to the road, then east to Fort Jaxon, so off through the forest we rode. Wikton grumbled that he’d had a poor rest; and Boraen, too, had tossed all night. Tasso – and Talvi, too! – stayed away from them both, no doubt figuring they were harsh enough at the best of times – without sleep, who knows what would make them snap!

The land became wetter – not quite a bog, but many small trickles and sloughs, leading to a small creek. Looking about, I could see this creek was flowing through a channel cut by a mighty river and I wondered how the river had dwindled so. Across the creek was a long stone bridge, with a collapsed building on the other side. There were well carved stone faces on the bridge supports, and as we came up on the building we saw it had been a small keep, with a single fallen tower towards the back. It had been long abandoned, but poking around, Beth and Fergus found a couple of huge feathers.

Pyrea felt we were being watched. We saw no one, but as we headed south again, I felt as if a storm was gathering to the northwest. Boaren suddenly burst out, “I angered Meesha! I must atone!” Wikton hurried over and as they conversed, it came out that his god also was angry with him. Without rest, neither would be able to replace the spells they used. Tasso, Luna, and I agreed that it was their guilty consciences keeping them from rest. But then, however they thought they got spells, losing two casters able to heal injured our party. Perhaps I could encourage them to meditate and gain back some peace – but then, I did not want them to repeat their brutality. A few sleepless nights might be just what they need.

Suddenly, we heard a great howl of rage from the northwest. Talvi whined and looked to Nan (not Boraen?); Lee cowered behind Beth. I suggested we make camp, cook our suppers, and prepare for an attack. Nan nodded at me, but said we should look for a more defensible spot. We found a hollow tucked into a hillside and set up camp there, with the slight cliff at our backs. Boggy ground to the south would also keep that flank secure against a charge. We made a fast meal, put away some of the food for later, and set watches.

On the third watch, a flaming arrow flew out of the darkness and buried itself in Beth’s back. Tasso quickly put out the flames as Wikton bellowed an alarm. Boraen and Pyrea leapt up – neither’d been sleeping well. Another howl ripped the dawn sky, chasing the laggards out of their bedrolls. But no enemies or other attacks came our way, so we made a quick breakfast. Beth and I climbed tall trees to see if the forest was coming to an end, but nothing but trees and migrating butterflies as far as we could see. Nann told us when we came down that the arrow was tribal-made but not quite of the style of her people.

To speed our way through the woods, we abandoned the wagon and split our supplies among our steeds. Gypsy gave me a long-suffering look when I loaded her up, but I fed her an apple and she soon accustomed herself to the added weight.

Midday, we came out into a small clearing – it was so peaceful, with birds singing and rabbits nibbling on the remains of a garden. In the middle of the glade stood a small cabin, a bit worse for wear. It looked a wonderful spot for lunch. Borean, Beth and Lee went up to the cabin to see if anyone was home- there was no smoke from the chimney, but then it was a warm day. Beth knocked and the door swung open. And two Damned came out of the house, and more rose out of the long grass around the building.

Our party leapt into action – Pyrea cast sleep to no effect. Boraen tried turning them, but they kept coming. Beth slashed around her with her daggers, but still was bitten and clawed. Tasso, Luna, and I slung stones and Nann shot arrows. Wikton hurled hammers. Some of the missiles hit, but there were so many of these unnatural creatures! I cast entangle on the surviving Damned and Pyrea followed up with a web. Beth lobbed a wicked pot of oil at the mass of them and smiled as they burned, then followed up with a pot of oil on the cabin.

Once the cabin had burned out, Josef poked around in the ashes and found a metal box. I opened it and showed everyone a ring with a small emerald, and Josef spotted a finely wrought chain with a pendant in the box as well. Seemed to me the chain and pendant were worth a bit, the ring not so much. Beth tried both on and rode off, but Boraen had a chat with her and Pyrea ended up with the pendant.

Wikton and Fergus felt something was pacing the party, and as dusk fell, we heard another howl of rage, from due north this time. We made camp and I made dinner. Pyrea cast identify on the chain and pendant, found nothing magical, so she put it away but declared it was treasure of the company.

Again we set watches, and again an attack came just before dawn. Nann was hit, and Tasso yelled to alert the camp as again he put out a flaming arrow. Beth had seen the weapon arc in from the west, and shouted this to me as she ran to defend Nann and Tasso. I cut to the northwest and Luna went southwest, thinking we might circle behind the archer, and I saw Fergus, Josef, and Wilhelm running naked but well-armed to the west. Another howl tore at our ears, and Boraen howled back, then walked to the west. None of us found a foe. Once everyone was back in camp, Beth shot the arrow back west – it was a beautiful shot, but a waste of an arrow.

Again Beth and I climbed trees, and we saw the end of the forest! Today’s ride would be take us out of the forest. We dropped from the trees and jubilantly shared this with the others over a hot meal. Wikton, Boraen, and Pyrea had had another bad night, and the news did not quite dispel their dourness. Wikton had spent a restless night asking his god for guidance; Boarean had talked at Meesha on how he would ask for nothing until he atoned and proved himself. Meesha, he indicated, was exasperated and disappointed in him for making this declaration. Maybe another day or so and I’ll teach them to meditate and clear their minds.

About midday, we came out of the woods. We headed east, skirting the edge of the woods, and shortly the ground became boggy and we had to pick our way carefully. Massive swarms of insects rose up and bothered us; Tasso, Luna, and I had the sense to put kerchiefs over our faces but our ponies still suffered, as did the horses and the rest of the party. We found soft but dry land to make camp and discussed our options; as evening came and the winds picked up, the insects went away.

We decided to head east one more day. We could not find dry wood anywhere so we made a cold supper and bedded down. Happily, this night passed without any attacks. In the morning, another cold meal, then we picked our way through the bog. The insects were back, but a light breeze made them less a nuisance than the day before. I felt we were being followed, but each time I looked back I saw nothing. The frogs were so loud, they would have drowned out any sound of pursuit!

In the afternoon, we saw smoke rising on the horizon, and we saw a camp of frog farmers a little before dusk. Racks of drying jerky to one side, sealed barrels stacked up on the other, and fires with great cauldrons of soup and sticks of seasoned frog kebabs in the middle. Behind the fires were rough tables and a sea of tents. We assumed our alter egos.

As we approached, the cooks waved. Out of the large tent in the middle came the campmaster, who introduced himself as Gerald. His wife, Shayna, came up from the cookfires, wiping her hands on an apron. Gerald quickly gives us directions to the road we sought, and Shayna promised us the soup was the best we would ever eat. We added some frog jerky to our supplies, then sat at the tables to sample the soup and kebabs. Beth tossed her money to Gerald and asked him to bring some drink.

The brandy was strong but sour. Beth didn’t mind – as most of us sipped, she drank deeply. And she turned out tobe a mean drunk. Beth sneered at Shayna, “Did you piss yourself, or is that just the smell of your soup?” Against the outraged murmur from the froggers, Beth drew herself up and challenged “ all you drunken bitches to fight!” Boraen reached for her, tried to pull her away from Shayna, but Beth slipped away and smacked Shayna. Insults and punches, Shayna gave back as much as she got. The whole camp rushed in, some to watch the fight, others to join in, and a few trying to break it up.

Well, I’d noted where the money was being kept: Three bags, one each of gold, silver, and copper, and a ledger on the side that tallied each day’s commerce. I emptied the bag of gold, and tossed my few silver and copper pieces into the appropriate bags. They’d have a very hard time making the books balance tonight!

I slipped back and saw the fight was over. Cooler heads had prevailed after Beth passed out. Pyrea suggested we leave; Gerald, sporting a bloody nose as he dragged Shayna away, angrily agreed. Certainly I was amenable, and so we rode away.

The fourth day of Autumn dawned cloudy and cool. Shortly after we left Roehm’s men behind, a heavy rain started. We slogged forward through the mud. I heard a commotion from the rear guard, and turned to see that Fergus had been pulled from his saddle! Willie was throwing off a rope, and men popped up around us demanding we stop in the name of Dame Orielt.

We tried to talk our way through, but they would not let us pass without swearing service to their crusade. We’d a mission of our own, thank you very much, and tempers flared. One of their bowmen shot Willie as his horse shied, and that was all it took. In quick succession, Pyrea put the three in front to sleep, I entangled one off to the side, Talvi went on the hunt, Beth shot down one bowman that I had slowed for her. Wikton hammered away but kept calling on the foe to surrender.

And the battle was pretty much over. Boraen slit the throat of the three sleeping tribesmen, a bit profligate with his subjects if you ask me, and certainly ignoring the good advice of Marshall Roehm. Ah well, dead men cannot raise the hue and cry. As I saw Beth looting the man she’d killed with my help, I decided to show Tasso and Luna how to check the bodies of the slain for treasure.

As the entanglement subsided, the remaining tribesman tore free, only to stare down Wikton and his hammer. Wikton encouraged him with the help of some rope to stay and answer questions, commanding him in turn to talk (nothing useful) and to betray (which only confused the captive).

Boraen came over to help with the questioning. The man worked for Ulfamark, the Bearman. Ulfamark was determined to avenge himself on the corrupt and cruel tribesmen who had betrayed him in the rite of adulthood.
Determined to force more from the man, Wikton and Boraen began breaking limbs. Wikton chillingly promised to injure and heal until the man complied or went mad. This only increased his defiance – Boraen was unworthy to be king, but how like the others he was! Boraen’s face suffused in anger but he called on Meesha to heal this man. His heart wasn’t in it, though – the man was left with a broken foot. I looked back at him, thinking to heal him myself, but he’d already gotten one hand free enough to make rude gestures.

Tasso was appalled, as in truth so was I. Meditation might help my turmoil, but this trip was certainly not doing it! We had a long whispered talk. Tasso was distressed I had not stopped Boraen from killing the helpless, or torturing a bound prisoner. He knew of war – had fought at Yew, in fact, a battle I had missed. But there were right and wrong ways to fight. Far from fighting chaos, we were creating it! I confided I had the same thoughts, but was not sure how to stop the humans from their cruelty. And I had done a poor job protecting Tasso or Luna from their violence, as well. We pledged to keep each other honest, and I suggested his path may lead him to a druidic circle, not a thieve’s guild. I gave him 3 gold pieces to reward him for awakening me to my complacency and complicity.

We left the main road for a farm to market track a bit north of Steltin. As we headed west/southwest, we saw in the evening gloaming a wagon of travelers coming our way. It was a troupe of very bad musicians – so bad that it crossed my mind they might be spies or rogues. They gave no notice of my signs, though, as they chatted with us convivially about the lands around Steltin. Boraen and I sent them to plague Winright and they kept on up the road. Luna suggested that they were such bad musicians, maybe that was how they made a living, and her guess was confirmed by the innkeeper when we stopped for the night.

We’d disguised ourselves as travelling merchants. Pyrea became Lady Arrington, I her father’s most trusted business advisor, Sen Orgrego. The Sens were a large and prosperous clan, so my name would not cause suspicion. And of course merchants would need to know of troops or tolls ahead, so our questions would seem natural.

On the evening of the eighth day of autumn, we saw the Dale Woods in the distance. We’d skirted Riverton, certainly, but in so doing, had gotten turned around. The Dale woods were north, a small group of buildings to the south.
As we approached the buildings, a clamor of barking started. I cast speak to animals on myself, but what the two dogs were saying was, “They are going to kill us! Hey! Get away from here! Masters, make them leave!” I told them, we are merchants, no one is going to kill you!” Human heads peeped out at us, and a large man called off the dogs. “Yes, yes, you will not let them kill us,” barked the younger dog.

Ogre was the man’s name, and he had some wildmen in his family, it appeared. Pyrea assured him we were just merchants trying to get across the river, without having their horses or goods taken to support the war effort. We all decided to be civilized, and Ogre’s four sons, crossbows carried but uncocked.

We ask Ogre to build a raft to get us across. We’ll pay good money, and leave him with a ferry that could compete with the toll bridges. Meanwhile, I fish and forage with Tasso and Luna, who thaw slightly towards me. Beth gets on with the dogs famously, and goes out hunting with them. Nan, too hunts, and she brings down a deer.

And in the evening of the final day, I talk to the three other remaining members of the Enonia Falcons. We all were distressed by the torture – it reminded us of what orcs did. And Fergus had been troubled in his sleep for many nights after killing helpless captives in our fight against the Black Brotherhood. Here was his chance to make amends for that.

The Falcons would be a force that stood for something. We would protect the helpless, starting with our vow to prevent the slaughter or abuse of prisoners. The druid in me exulted in this –my mission is not the protection of the woods, but preserving the flock against predators.

And strategically, this made sense, too – everyone would be needed to drive back the orcs, and the more unity we could achieve, the stronger our forces would be. No need to make more enemies, we had enough!

The eleventh day of autumn, we rafted over to the Southron Duchy. This is the first time I have set foot outside the Duchy of Irecia, but any musings on that were interrupted by a bittersweet parting between mother and son: the younger dog, Lee, refused to leave Beth, and his dam was both wistful and eager to see him make his way in the world. Ogre might have raised a fuss, but, “His ma’s been mated with another fine watchdog. I’ll keep the best of the litter,” he confided to me.

Tasso, Luna, and I came down from my room to find Fergus, Josef, and Willie already sitting at breakfast. The three humans had worked up almost as much an appetite as we three littlelings, so we took another table and called for our own food. Tasso and Luna aren’t as comfortable around humans as I am, so this helped them relax and enjoy the meal while still getting used to our companions. I mentioned to Luna that she’d have liked Belaldur – and it struck me, with Belaldur and Ja’Kar dead, there were only 4 of us Falcons left. Perhaps it was time to begin recruiting again – maybe that ranger, Harris, with whom I’d shared cider two days past? I’d have to remember to look him up once we returned from our journey.

After the rest of our company – Boraen, Nann, and Talvi; Beth, Pyrea, and Wikton— trooped down to the common room, Josef and Willie went to gather our horses and get the cart loaded. The rest of us reviewed again our goal.
The three swords of Boraen’s vision were spread out – some folk who’d adventured from here before had a broken sword, but it might be reforged. Another was somewhere in the city of Irecia. The last sword seemed to us likely to be in the mountains to the Southeast, where tribes known to Boraen dwelled. We’d gathered supplies and prepared to set on a great journey to see if these tribes would recognize his kingship and relinquish the sword. Not the same as the clans rolling across the plains of Irecia, but still it thrilled me – surely the open road would open my mind to possibility!

I felt ill at ease and hemmed in by the towns and the walls. I had wrested control of a druid’s circle from one who had allowed it to be twisted from its true course by a tricky, predatory plant. That felt good, but my obligations made me hand it back to members of that circle with admonitions to clean and reconsecrate the grove. Fighting the anti-life creatures of chaos also felt good – rescuing the goblyns with Ja’Kar’s help was the first time I’d really felt I’d made a difference! – and defending folk of all sizes from the depredations of the orders of orcs was even better. But with no real place or mission yet I felt a bit adrift.

Along the way South, Luna taught me more of her knotwork – and Tasso was a good sport at letting us bind him to a horse and then work his way out. I tried to teach them some simple skills of stealth – Luna took to this, but Tasso was almost as clumsy as a human. Maybe his strengths lie elsewhere. They certainly don’t lie with pickpocketing or diplomacy!

As we approached Lord Winwright’s land, I exchanged rueful glances with Wikton. Perhaps I had done him a disservice, handing him over to Winright’s justice. Surely we could have had a marvelous adventure, and Winright was practically a Lightbringer anyhow. A huge armed camp flew Marshall Roehm’s flags, byon either side of the road west of Winright’s tower. While most of us went to check the camp out and hoped to see the Marshall, Tasso stayed behind to tend the horses with Nann and Josef and Willie.

We spoke to Shelly, a captain guarding the entrance to the camp. Boraen introduced himself as our leader and declared we needed to ride south to save the land. All very grandiose, and as I exchanged glances with Fergus, he mouthed, “I thought we were more an autonomous collective.” Shelly welcomed us and told us we must speak to the Marshall Roehm. The rest of our party came up, and to my dismay, I saw Tasso knocked out and thrown over his saddle, nearly dead. Boarean quickly gave first aid. I hadn’t time to get to the bottom of this before Shelly returned to escort us to the tower.

Shelly took us past Mongo, the wildman guard of Lord Winwright. Mongo was bellowing at servants from the tower as they struggled to load up Winwright’s belongings onto a wagon. He took the time to greet Wikton, I saw.
In the Great Hall, Marshall Roehm stood before a table of maps with his new second, in a heated discussion with Lord Winright. Throwing his hands in the air, Winright walked over to a pile of boxes and chests, glowered at Wikton and glanced at me. He pointedly checked a few locks before storming out of the room.

Roehm was delighted to see us, and he greeted me with great courtesy. He looked with interest at our new companions, as we explained we needed to go South and East ton a mission to push back the chaos. We had found signs that the Lightbringers, the rebellion and invasion, the Black Riders, the orcs, the Master of Chaos, Irecia were interconnected.

Roehm’s troops held the road here, after havng their siege of Steltin broken by a force from the Southron Duchy – irregulars and tribesmen, as well as Kevlin’s men and the Lightbringers. Roehm didn’t want to storm and pillage Steltin. The town was part of the Duchy of Irecia, and he needed unity to push back the orcs.

The Southrons were all led by tribal chiefs from the mountains to which we were headed. Four captains, led by a short “Bearman.” Boraen explained that he, not the Bearman, was rightful king over these men and would command their obedience. Marshall Roehm raised an eyebrow at this but nodded politely, and went on.

The Southron forces had also brought a mage able to summon and control gorillas, flying cats, and stone golems. He knew a flaming brands spell, too. He and a guerilla force of Southron irregulars struck with no pattern Roehm could discern save that they stayed away from the main camps of the Southrons.

Winright then swept back into the room with servants and hubbub, removed the last of his chests and boxes. Wikton offered casually to remove Winright from the list of Marshall Roehm’s concerns. Roehm considered it, but ruefully declined. No, we must avoid spilling innocent blood. Even the Southrons, invaders though they were, would be needed if he was to drive out the orcs.

Tasso had come to by the time we got back to the horses. He was woozy and weak, and I performed a healing spell and asked what had happened. I got the story from Tasso, with Josef and Willie and Nann chipping in details.

Tasso had thought it would be wise to practice his pilfering on Josef – but Josef caught him at it and knocked Tasso out with a single blow. Nann stopped Josef from slitting Tasso’s throat, but it was a near thing nonetheless. I told Tasso to give one gold piece to Josef for attempting to lift his pouch – one doesn’t do that to a comrade-in-arms! – and one to Nann for saving his life. He complained but complied. I told Josef that Luna and Tasso were my charges, to leave discipline to me. Appeased by the gold piece, he agreed, and apologized for his temper.

Tasso was hurt and confused and quite distressed to lose so much money. I told him again to not steal from his companions, and explained how that sort of thing gave us a bad name among all the bigfolk. But I’d told him to practice his skills, he protested weakly, and these noisy, stupid humans were little better than thugs. Beth then leaned down and broke his nose, reminding him not to steal from the company, or assume littleling speech was unknown outside our race.

Humiliated and angry, Tasso spat out, “Now I see the violence inherent in the system! How can you be friends with this bunch?” It made for a cold night: Tasso slept next to Luna, both a bit away from me, as I lay awake, alone, and troubled.

The two littlelings from Carbaugh’s Keep are Tasso and Luna. They are very close and comfortable with each other but not, as I had first understood, brother and sister. They both are newly Followers of Orlando, and aspire to be warriors in that order. Carbaugh asked me to train and season them for a season or two before sending them back – but I wonder if he sent them because he sensed the great journey that lies ahead.

My friends – Boraen and Talvi and Einar, Fergus and Josef and Willie, Grel, and Wikton – rode up from Enonia on their way to see the Sisters. Tasso, Luna , and I had just finished lunch as the party came to Jakar’s Rest. Twyla, a dark and lovely dark human woman who’d been training me in dance fighting, asked to join us on the trip to Old Fawn. Twyla is an illusionist, just starting out and a bit naïve. If Belaldur still lives, surely her beauty and grace will draw him back.

In the waning days of Summer, then, we made our way to Old Fawn. Boraen greeted Nina and Grenwe, and he, Einar, Wikton, and Twyla went inside to inform them of Belaldur’s death, our quest, and our need for knowledge. Fergus, Josef, and Willie grazed the horses out front. We three littlelings went around back to view their garden, filled with unusual sculptures, to give them (and us) some privacy. Even though we’d shared my tent and bedroll on the way up, Tasso, Luna, and I had only just begun to get comfortable with each other. But over a jug of cider that afternoon, we made real progress!

Boarean and Twyla came out of the house, but Einar had stayed behind to learn from the Sisters. We’d need to wait in town for a few days to give Ninan and Grenwe the time to research the Dark Ones, the Swords, the letter and the Devils. Boraen allowed, too, that he was King of the Wolf Tribe, but he didn’t put on any airs.

We didn’t stay at the best inn – I’m wary of drawing too much attention. But the one we stayed at had a fine buffet for breakfast, free sandwiches for lunch, and a hearty dinner. We could make our other meals by snaring some rolls and fruit at breakfast, and sandwiches at lunch, so at least we would not go hungry on this silly human “three squares a day!”

Four days on, late in the afternoon, as I sat quietly drinking my cider and wondering what was in store for dinner, I heard a commotion in the street. I hopped from my booster seat – another reason to like this inn, booster seats! – and ran along the bench to the doorway, thinking there might be some opportunity in the confusion. And then I heard Twyla cry out in pain and alarm! Well, a new companion she might be, but still I would protect her!

Two men fought over Twyla, one snatching at her while the other cruelly gripped her arm. As I tried to slip through the crowd, I could see the malice in the eyes of both men. I remembered the pretty ladies who would come to my uncle’s shop, finding slightly frayed gowns and chipped jewels they could make into finery good enough to pass in the dim light of the evening. And the hard-faced pimps that would stop in the store, too, demanding their cut of the night’s take, scoffing at the bits of lace and velvet their girls were buying. And my uncle, oily and smarmy to the pimps and condescending to the ladies. Well, this was not going to be Twyla’s fate!

I leapt for the bully who held Twyla, figuring to distract him with a knife at his throat. And Wikton and Boraen, too, came to her aid. Wikton let his hammer fly and it smashed into the pimp’s skull just as my dagger touched his neck. The dagger slid between his sixth and seventh vertebrae – a mercy, really, as he’d have had a massive headache from the hammer. With one punch, Boraen had dispatched the other pimp. I checked their pouches for any signs of who these two were, then noticed a large ring on the finger of Twyla’s captor. The town guard showed up before I could cut it loose, though. Grel took Twyla back inside the inn; Wikton, Boraen, and I went to the town jail.

I shared out the sandwiches I had in my pouch, and Wikton amused us with tales of his earlier imprisonment and declared us to be comrades of the cellblock. The next morning, the town council fined us for the two murders, but set aside the fine to thank us for stopping Twyla’s kidnapping. Our companions welcomed us back, and we headed back to see the Sisters.

Ninan and Granwe told us of the Swords of Legend – one broken that needs special magic to repair, one lost in the Southron Duchy, one held in the Duchy of Elphast. These three swords must come together to defeat the Dark Ones. They told us, too, that the Demons and the Dark Ones are not the same – in fact, there are tales of demons helping a tribe break free from the domination of the Dark Ones, though this meant exchanging one set of masters for another. After much deliberation, our company decided to seek the sword in the Southron Duchy first , and we spent a day equipping ourselves as best we could. I found ponies for Tasso and Luna.

We reached Trubaugh the last day of Summer. This was where we’d rescued and restored some of the Damned, though there was still a field full of them, fenced in and the field abandoned. Mazlor had had some success curing the Damned here, and I’d thought his temple might have sent someone to continue his work. But not only are the Damned still afield, a new horror has blocked the villagers from tending their crops.

These beasts were like great leather bags, with a poisonous bite and claws. There were five, one much larger than the others. Grel called his magic steed to him, and rode high above the fields, looking for them. All five floated above the same field; as Grel hovered over them, the four smaller ones rose to meet him. Grel fired arrows at them but the wind kept him from hitting his targets. And they were on him!

Grel would have been in a bad state had he not turned to flee. As it is, one of the beasts ripped his shield off his back, and another bit his horse. Borean brought down the bag that had harried Grel’s horse; Luna and I bracketed the one gnashing on Grel’s shield. Beth took out another, and Josef and Fergus targeted the last of the small bags. Beth followed up with another arrow at long range, killing that final small monster.

Willie dropped his bow and scrambled for another weapon as he saw the boss bag burst from the wheat, scattering chaff and straw ahead of it. Josef went down with some in his eye. Twyla stepped forward then, and began undulating as she called forth dancing lights, in the form of a great glowing figure shaking its hips at the monster. The distraction worked – instead of attacking Willie and Josef, the great bag lunged for the illusion. I quickly cast entangle, tied it up in fast-growing wheat, and Wikton blinded the beast with a blast of light. A flurry of arrows and stones killed it quickly. Grel landed, and Boraen healed his horse.

The villagers were repulsed by the other-worldly creatures we had dispatched, and sang our praises as the conquerors of chaos. All a bit much, if you ask me, but they gleefully flung the carcasses into the field of the Damned, then prepared us a simple but filling dinner.

The first day of Autumn found us on the road again. In the afternoon, we passed by the ruined tower of Lady Emily, near Chendale, but we pressed on to reach the Abbey by evening. We called up to the Abbey, and Dame Heather sent us water and invited us to camp outside the Abbey walls.

We lunched at Ulichton the next day, and bought up what supplies we could. I picked up a couple of daggers, thinking to instruct Tasso and Luna in their use. We rode for Ennonia, and caught the tail end of the day’s market. We dropped quite a lot of coin there, and I made sure to get a good meal and a room for we three littlelings at the Militiaman and Bawd.

Riding out in the morning, we reached Draycott right at lunchtime and settled in to rest the horses before the long trek ahead. We had a good couple of meals and welcome. Willie and Josef’s kin made much of Fergus, and the talk of the town was how he’d made men out of a couple of ne’er-do-wells. I’ll get our tent set up, share out these berries I found in the bushes by the clearing, and go to bed with Tasso on one side and Luna on the other.

The bards sign their songs and tell of news that they’ve heard from around the region and lands. This is what they’re singing of currently:

Littleling city of Cheddon experiences a Night of Terror

A horror has befallen the littleling city of Cheddon, which lies to the north of the Duchy of Irecia. Black Brotherhood troublemakers brought cages of Damned into the city in the dead of night to the city cemetery. They unleashed these horrors on an unsuspecting population and a Night of Terror broke out. Many littlelings succumbed to the affliction, and parts of the city were burned from the chaos. Indeed, far worse might have happened, had it not been for a brave band of adventurers who secured the docks from an attack of Crab-Men and fixed the water pumps so that fire crews could extinguish the flames. Many ships in the harbor were lost to the Crab-Men and town officials are worried that the Black Brotherhood may have stirred them up.

The Rebellion to the South Takes a Turn

The Duke of Irecia is facing rebellion and an outside threat! His commander, Marshal Roehm, marched a regiment of militia and mercenaries to the southern reaches of the Duchy, to confront the rebellious Dame Oriolt and Marshal Kevlin. Both fled to their respective demesnes and it looked as if a siege was to begin. The surprise came in the form of several regiments of partisan Southron soldiers!

It seems that the Duke-in-waiting Heber Felix (son of King Julian Felix, may the Light keep him safe) is angry at his father for having the Church of the Light annul his marriage to a common woman. Seeing the split between the Church and rebellious Lightbringers, Heber has sent men to support Oriolt and Kevlin! The Marshal has retreated to a line just north of Steltin and is said to be raising militias and calling for more mercenaries to launch a full scale war.

Marshal Ynivax has an old problem come anew to his fledgling holds. He has summoned militias and mercenaries to guard against Notchland Keep. It had been relatively deserted in the Spring and early Summer but in the past ten-days, Orcs have come there in force once again to fortify the old keep. So far, they have not attacked further, but Ynivax fears raids and a renewed assault.

Strange Creatures Arise

All across the lands and Duchies, strange creatures of myth and legend have suddenly appeared! Wyrms, Wyverns, strange monstrous things, Stirges, Winged creatures of great size and more have been seen, or have attacked! What were once safe roads and peaceful fields have become places of fear and worry. The nobles, clergy and rulers have been gathering in discussion with little to say. Elders and sages are wagging their tongues that this can’t be a coincidence when it has occurred right after the Day of Darkness.

Pagan Feast in Ulichton

The leader of a cult worshiping the pagan goddess known as Meesha has declared a day of celebration and feast on the 58th day of Summer, right before the Harvest Feast of the first day of Autumn. It will be held in the town of Steltin. It is said that Kjeld, the priest of the cult of Vanir will also be attending. There will be food, song, dancing and prayers to the pagan gods for help and protection from the strange things that have been happening recently.

Beláldur sits alone at a table, the room lit only by the lamp light resting on top of it. Near at hand is a sheet of parchment, a quill, and a small bottle of ink. The elf stares at the parchment for some time, then picks up the quill and begins to write:

To my companions,

He stops, quickly scratches out the words, and begins again:

_My friends,

I’ll be leaving at dawn, to head East towards Irecia.

I know the dangers are great, but the danger of what may be coming from there, and not knowing about it or being prepared for it are much, much greater. Even some small scrap of information that I may be able to bring back by scouting the enemy may wind up meaning the difference between victory or disaster. I must take the chance.

I will go alone, both because I cannot burden anyone else with this risk, and because my odds of moving about undetected are better by myself. A lone fish escapes the net where the whole school gets trapped in it.

Among my people, it is customary for a seaman to write a Sailor’s Will when he is about to head out on a voyage he may not return from. So now, my head being clear of clouds, I write this testament:

To Ragar, I leave my Legionnaires’ bow and Legionnaires’ dagger. A good hunter requires good tools, and in Ragar’s hands I believe they will be put to good use.

To Pyria, I leave the last of my gems. She may have them fashioned into jewelry of course, to compliment her amazing outfits, but I suspect she’ll trade them for components for plying her craft. If there’s one thing I know about wizards, it’s that the supplies needed to do magic are expensive. I hope these will help.

To Fergus, I leave my prized pipe and special leaf from Parabellum’s shop. I know Fergus is very serious when it comes to fighting, but the times I’ve enjoyed with him the most have been when he’s joking around, not taking the world, or himself, quite so seriously. I leave these to him as a reminder that sometimes you have to relax and enjoy the voyage.

To Mazlor, I leave my gold and brown cloak. I had a dream that is shared by some of the others, that there would one day be a group of riders willing to patrol these lands, keeping people safe and giving swift warning when new dangers arose. I know Mazlor has a dream too, that one day the followers of the Light will unite to defeat the darkness. I leave the Enonian Falcon cloak to him as a reminder that some dreams are worth fighting for to the end, no matter how much the odds are stacked against you. Gold is the color of the rising sun, Mazlor.

To Balto, I leave a map to a certain well that I’m certain he also remembers. He’s free to go back there and find more treasures, but I also leave him this suggestion, that he take the map to a certain friend of ours we’ve met a few times at the Militiaman and Bawd. In exchange for that map, I believe that his prestige will rise highly within a certain organization. There are more ways to grow than how the plants do it, my friend… just be sure to ask for a percentage of the profits, too.

To Borean, I leave instructions on how to find where I have buried a box containing a couple of items. I ask that he deliver one of them to one of the Sisters in Old Fawn. The other, he is free to keep until he finds someone that he deems worthy of it, someone fit to rule. I trust the warrior of the north’s judgment best of all in this, and he’ll know which item goes to whom. Be sure to send my love to Nannon as well, Borean.

To Grel, I leave my letter of credit, on the condition that he swears an oath to one day ride north and deliver half of it to the most needy of the elven ships that he finds there. I know that once his word is given, nothing in the world will make him break it. And also to Grel, I leave my leather headband, which I wore at times to honor our fallen friend Ja’Kar. Perhaps he will be good enough to take it to Jorann, as a reminder to both of them that sometimes sacrifices are necessary for the greater good.

That rest of my worldly possessions I leave to the captain of this fort, who was good enough to store and guard these items for me.

May the wind always fill your sails, and your ship always carry you home.

Beláldur
_
When the ink has dried, Beláldur rolls up the parchment and seals it in a scroll case. He stands, looks at it for a moment with a content expression, then leans over and blows out the lamp.

“To me Wolves, too me!” Yells Børæn as he leaves the tent.

Reluctant eyes turn and upon seeing Móðir Mother) and the Merkitä Muistiin emerge behind the large warrior, the mood shifts. This is the Wolf Tribe’s King. Though young, it is by his actions that he showed all he is not his father.

“My brothers and sisters of the Wolf, the time for celebration must be put on hold…”

The crowd mutters, but when the Móðir raises her hand, all go silent.

“Evil is afoot. Some will call it Chaos. Some will call it the inevitable destiny of not just the Wolf, and the Northern Tribes, but of all of us, to be consumed by this darkness. I do not care, this blackness has infected everything we hold dear.” Børæn pauses as his words wash over his tribe. Tribesmen look to each other in worry, confusion, but more look angry. They sense a war is brewing, and the death of the Shadow is just the start of something that will be a time of challenge. “The Clan of No Name is but one example. The Shadow is just another as well. This evil, if left unchecked, will destroy not only what we hold dear, but this entire world.”

The crowd goes silent. Børæn has given word too what many have felt.

“I have fought this evil first hand. My sword and axe have cut a bloody swath through it. Talvi and I have hunted it, and have worked to protect who we can. Yet, despite this, the evil grows.”

Hearing her name Talvi appears at Børæn’s side. Seeing her, many realize that the tribe has changef. The Shadow King is dead, and a new light has appeared.

She looks at the man she sees as her cub, and Børæn feels her eyes upon him. The two look at each other, and Børæn feels through their shared bond her pride. As quick as the feeling came, it is quickly replaced with annoyance. “Get on with it cub,” she seems to scold Børæn. Stifling a laugh Børæn looks out at the crowd.

“I have been to the lands of the South. The evil infects everything. An ancient city is now a kingdom of Orcs…”

Hearing that, many yell curses, offer their swords to fight, and mutter vows to fulfill honor debts.

Børæn raises his hand and the gathering goes silent.

“There will come a day when we will ride as one and remove that rot, but today is not that day. We must be strong, stronger than we are now.”

Torpo, who has watched in silence nods his head toward Móðir (Mother). They share a glance. They know now, without any doubt, the true Wolf King is here.

“My friends, I know I have arrived, but I have much to do in the South…”

Hearing this, the crowd grows uneasy. Again Børæn raises his hand and all go silent.

“My path takes me from my people. I must fight battles that are my own. The Wolf is not ready for what is to come. We have been weakened by a poison that has just begun to be drained from this tribe.”

Looking at the crowd, Børæn feels something deep within him change. He feels humble. He feels pride. He feels as if the missing parts of him have been found. He also feels the familiar touch of his goddess and he smiles.

“I must go,” the crowd murmurs and again Børæn silences them. “I must go to fight. A fight I must do alone. If I do not do this, I will not be worthy of being your King.”

Hearing this a cheer begins, and oaths are sworn. There is a joy to this, and there is pride in this. What was once a dying wolf, has now found a new life.

“While I am gone, the Wolf will be cared for. Móðir and the Merkitä Muistiin will watch over you, and together they will help you heal.”

Hearing this, the crowd bows their heads to the two, and soon the crowd chants “Sinun sanasi on laki! (Your word is law.)”

The chant grows louder, it rings through the valley, it fills the tribe with hope. It pierces the blackness which smothered it for so long. Even Torpo and Mother chant this.

Raising his hand again, a hush goes over the crowd.

“I ride South, but I will not ride alone. What good is a wolf without his pack? Who will ride with your King?”

The crowd shifts and murmurs. All think about what this choice means. Suddenly a woman steps forward. Short of stature, hair long and brown, and a patch covering her right eye, she commands respect (and perhaps some fear). She stands proud and she stands as if she knows this moment has been her destiny. She knows that here, right now, her Lore has begun.

“I am Nanna One Eye, warrior of the Rabbit Clan. I will ride with you my King,’ she says in a strong voice.

“I am honored to ride with you Nanna of the Rabbit.”

Hearing this a cheer goes up among the gathered Rabbit Clan. For so long they have suffered under the yoke of the past. Now, however, they know that the tribe has truly changed.

As if a dam burst, others begin yelling out and pushing to step forward. Suddenly two emerge from the crowd. One, a woman, hair of gold, dressed in furs, and wearing the markings of a Druid. The other is but a boy, perhaps no more than 16.

“I am Tófa of the Horse Clan, and I have a calling my path follows yours. I have had visions of a wolf, whose Lore is destined to entwine with mine. I will gladly stand by your side my King and aid you in your fight. That is if you will have me?”

Børæn smiles, “Thunder is your name, yet you wear the trappings of a Druid?”

“I hear a calling,” Tófa responsefs solemnly. “It is a tug. No? A growing wind that pushes me. I must do this.”

“Mesha,” Børæn says. “In all things I honor you. Step forward Tófa I am blessed by Mesha to have you by my side.” As she stands at her King’s side, the Horse Clan cheers in pride. As a breaking storm it fills the valley, and all who hear it, know the Horse once again roam the land.

“Do not be a fool boy,” yells Torpo. “You do not know what you are doing!”

Børæn looks to his old friend. “Why are you, angry old friend?”

“He is Einarr my grandson. Useless with the Lore; unskilled in the skills of his people; nothing more than a dreamer too busy to learn,” snaps Torpo.

Looking at the boy, Børæn smiles. He was Einarr’s age when he set off on his path. He looks in the eyes of the youth and sees a strength there. A smoldering spark that will bloom into a raging fire. This strength will not be found here, with Wolf. He will find it with Børæn and when the boy returns all will see his strength.

“Your name fits you Einarr, you are a lone warrior. Do you have the strength to stand at my side?” Børæn says simply.

Einarr looks into Børæn’s eyes and stands as tall as he can.

He tries to look solemn.

He fails.

He tries to look serious.

He fails.

None of those expressions are right for the youth.

Instead, he smiles.

“My King I am ready. I will not waver. I will not flee. I will show courage when racing into battle. I will be your shield. I am a wolf, and I know my duty as one. I will not fail you.”

Torpo begins to yell, and Børæn glares at his old friend. It is a harsh look, filled with anger and rage. It is a look a King gives to a warrior who has failed to uphold his oaths. Taken aback by this, Torpo goes quite.

“Your clan boy?” Børæn asks.

“I am Einarr of the Eagle Clan!”

Hearing this the gathered Eagles cheer with pride.

“Einarr of the Eagle Clan I will be proud to have you at my side,” Børæn says loudly so all know that the weak are able to be strong when they hear the call.

Horses are brought, and each member of the company huddle with their clans. Oaths are sworn, blessings are given, and together they bask in the joy of what is to come. All know that because of this, their clans have changed, and have changed for the better.

“What in the Hells are you thinking boy!” Torpo snaps at Børæn. “My grandson is not strong, he is weak. He will fail you during the first battle he has. Do not bring him…”

Børæn spins, and his anger flares. Talvi growls, and in that growl there is anger. Torpo swallows what he was about to say. He looks at the boy, now a man, and for the first time knows fear.

“If anyone else said what you said, I would draw my axe and end their life where they stand,” growls Børæn. “It is only because I see you as a father that I do not do that now. Einarr is as old as I was when I fled the Wolf. There is a strength there and you dishonor him by your words and deeds.”

The two stare at each other and the old man looks away, bowing his head in shame.

“This old friend is the only time I will forgive you. Though you watch the Wolf while I go south, I am your King. My word is my honor. I will not have you question my honor. Do. You. Understand?”

Bowing deeply Torpo responds “I am sorry my King. I bring myself dishonor in this, and I dishonored you. I am sorry Børæn, truly.”

As quick as the anger came, it leaves, and Børæn smiles, placing his hand on Torpo’s shoulder.

“All is forgiven, old friend. I know you speak from love, and not malice. I know you worry about the boy. He will be fine, I swear it. Mesha guides me, and Mesha’s Will protects. Einarr will return, and he will make you proud.”

As the goodbyes are finished and the supplies are packed each member gathers around Børæn. Talvi seeing these new people looks at each as if she is appraising them. This does not go unnoticed by the three, and in truth, unnerves them.

“Pay her no mind, Talvi is the mother wolf, she sees me as her cub,” Børæn chuckles. In response, Talvi looks at Børæn and glares as if scolding him. For a second, the two look into each other’s eyes. Suddenly Børæn laughs, and Talvi barks and wags her tail, happily. The three look at each other. They know this is the Wolf King.

Drawing Lohikäärme Hammas, Børæn slices it across his right palm. Handing the ancient dagger to each of his new companions, they too draw the dagger across their right palm.

Holding his hand out, and each one clasps their hands with each other.

“Are you ready? You face a long path, are you sure in your choice?”

“Yes, my King,” Tofa speaks. Her voice is hard but sure. Her face is grim.

“Kunnia Kunnialla. Elämä elämästä. Pysyn teidän kanssanne ja taistelen teidän kanssanne. Olemme sidoksissa.”

(“Blood for blood. Lore with lore. Honor with honor. Life for life. I stand with you and I fight with you. We are bonded.”)

Each state, solemnly. They know now, without any doubt, this is their path.

With that Børæn smiles.

“We ride as one. Mesha guides us. Though Mesha is a fickle one, she has faith in me. I have faith in her. What we do is for her and for this tribe. We will be tested. We will shed blood. We will see things that make weak warriors run in fear.”

The three look at their king in wonder. They hang on each word. Tofa’s eyes go wide when she hears Mesha’s name.

“No matter what happens remember this: we are the Wolf. We strike with no fear. We hunt as one. We kill as one. We watch out for each other. It is a good omen that Horse, Rabbit, Eagle, Axe, and Sword are joined. Now let’s ride.”

As they leave the valley, Einarr rides close to Børæn.

“My King.”

“It is Børæn Einarr. I am not your King right now. I am Børæn.”

“Yes my… Børæn.” Einarr responds. “What should I call us?”

Chuckling, the response is simple “Just like your grandfather, heh? You are keeping the Lore Einarr, you decide.”

Riding back, his two companions look at him and smile.

“The Four Warriors.” Nanna simply responds.

“No, ‘The Wild’s Warriors’, sounds right,” Tófa answers.

“No those do not feel right. They are good, mind you, but not right,” answers Einarr.

Suddenly Einarr sits upright as inspiration strikes. “The Wolf’s Guardians!”

The others look at the Einarr and smile.

“‘The Four’,” Børæn states simply.

The three look at each other, and Einarr looks sad.

“You are not a Merkitä Muistiin yet, Einarr. Do not pout. You will have many opportunities to become one,” laughs Nanna and smiles at her new companion.

“Yes, Nanna is right. Just make sure you get our names right,” chuckles Tófa and winks at the boy.

Joining his two friends in the joking the three laugh.

As they ride, Børæn smiles. He is happy. He is proud. He is grateful. He whispers a prayer of thanks to Mesha and lets the rhythm of the ride take over. He listens to the three talk, boast, and laugh. It is a sound that pleases him.

“You do not know what you ride toward,” he thinks to himself. “You do not know what you will face. Yet, you are strong, stronger then you think you are. At the end of this, we will be more than Companions. More than a Pack. We will be of Blood.”

The four ride on.

Dark times have come to the land of men!
It all started out fairly ordinary. We decided to go take a look around Irecia to see what the Dark Ones might be up to. We decided to head out on foot so we could be less conspicuous. Immediately after we left the woods, we saw the remains of the orc camp. We decided to look around. almost immediately we were set upon by a hail of arrows. The Goblins hiding in the grass were impossible to find, let alone fight. Eventually, they ran off and we resumed our search. We found some truly gruesome remains in the shaman’s tent. We decided to burn it all and resume our journey.
Almost immediately we were beset by the same goblins! They were too fast and mobile to fight. We decided we needed to return and get our horses.
Mounted, we were able to ride through the ambush with only minor injuries. We continued on and saw smoke and signs of habitation in the hamlets off the road. We decided to take a look. The hamlets were all occupied by the Orcs! They were settling!
We continued on and made it to the wayfarers’ inn. We spied a wagon of orcs with chained humans and decided to engage.
The beasts dared to fire upon Arion!!! I was forced to leap in front of the arrows to ensure his safety. I will not be bringing him into battle again until his barding is ready! We took care of them and tried to free the humans, but they were townsfolk from Kolwith. It has been overrun. Their families are held hostage and they would not leave them. We were forced to let them go.
The next morning, There was an awful darkness and an explosion and suddenly, I was cut off from Tangadorin completely!! I am certain a Dark one has entered into our realm! We saw the light and darkness centered over Irecia, and a smaller one off to the south of the woods.
who have lived my life without fear, quaked in my boots. With the dDark Ones free, and Tangadorin cut off from his worshippers, there was no hope. I felt completely lost.
We decided to return to Enonia, we were not yet ready for this new darkness…..

TAP.

TAP.

TAP.

All eyes turn to the door of the hall as the winter’s wind ushers in the old man.

Orpo.

There is another name he is known for. Though he is the Merkitä Muistiin, it is a title he wears uncomfortably.

He is Orpo.

The man, despite his age, is still as resilient as he was as a youth. Scars cross his body, and each one is a reminder that at one time this man was a warrior. Though his days of roaming and fighting are long past, no one doubts that if need be Orpo would be the first in battle with the axe in hand.

The old man walks, the hall is not crowded. It is still day, despite the fact it is Long Night. Making his way to the front, those in the hall bow in respect to Orpo. Though he does not think himself as a Merkitä Muistiin, the tribe does, and respect is given.

Sitting at the far end of the hall are two thrones. One is large, imposing, and covered in the pelts of creatures killed. One would think that the throne is not beautiful, but that would be wrong. The throne is carved and resembles a flowering tree. The branches weave and entwine forming the throne from which Børæn has ruled.

Next to this throne is a delicate one, smaller in size, but whose beauty is only out shown by the woman who sits upon.

Fríđr.

Peacebringer.

Queen of the Wolf.

Chuckling to himself, Orpo reflects that it took one whose name means peace, to sooth the moody Børæn.

“I am happy that oaf of a boy put pride aside,” Orpo chuckles to himself.

“Something funny old friend?” Fríđr asks simply.

Her voice is of the spring, soft, gentle, and musical. It is a voice of a woman who seeks to understand and offers comfort. It is the counter to Børæn’s voice of rage. Together these two voices have weaved a song that has brought much to the People of the Wolf.

“Only your husband my dear. I still am not sure how you did not laugh when he fumbledthe words of his love to you,” Orpo laughs.

‘’If I wanted to marry a poet, I would have. Instead I married a man honest with who he is,” the queen looks at the old man and smiles..

“You asked to see me, my Queen. I am here,” Orpo simply states.

“Yes, dear friend. Come sit with me.”

Standing the queen walks to a table and sits, as she does a servant brings two mugs of spiced wine. Orpo, sitting across from his queen, and with an audible sigh, rests.

Without any pretense, Fríđr speaks.

“I know today is an important day in this tribe’s lore. It is the day that Børæn returned and avenged the wrongs. It is the day that he became king, and it is the day that set forth the path that would bring my headstrong, fierce, but loving wolf into my life.”

“You speak truly my Queen. This is the day,” Orpo says simply.

“Børæn has told me that this day marks something else, something that truly changed him, and set him on his path of being a warrior-priest. He told me for that on this day he saw his true path, and accepted his rôle in this life.”

“Yes my Queen, this is that day,” Orpo answers knowing what is to be asked next.

“But what was this event? Børæn tries to tell me, but in his typical way. ‘I met Móðir, I drank from a cup, and I saw a vision.’ What is that? That is not a story, it is a list of chores!”

Composing herself, and laughing Fríđr sighs. “Not even in the room and that man makes me raise my voice.”

Silence fills the room as Orpo looks at his Queen. His thoughts race with memories of that time. He knows that was a time of great darkness. It was a time that no one was left unchanged. It was a time of evil and darkness.

Yet, it was a time when heroes, answering the call of the Old Gods, joined together to save the world.

“My Queen,” whispers Orpo. “The event that truly set the course Børæn now walks was a vision. It was a vision given to him by the Móðir…”

“Móðir?”

“In your language my Queen she is Mother.”

“Your husband received a vision. It was a terrible vision…”

—

Slowly, my vision begins to collapse in a haze and narrows to a tunnel. I see Mother walk back to her chair and sit. I feel Orpo guide me next to her, and I am placed in a chair as well. She places her hand on my arm.

It feels as solid as rock and as heavy as a mountain.

“Walk with me…” she says in a commanding voice. The sound echoes in my ears as if I am hearing her speak at the mouth of a cave and you are deep within it. Now, even the small tunnel of vision, the fire, the surrounding vista, it all narrows into blurred vision.

“Walk with me…” I hear and I feel as heavy as stone, yet as light as a feather. A blink feels like a thousand heartbeats and when I open my eyes, I can see clearly… into Hell.

The ground beneath me is mud, blasted earth, a pile of stench and garbage. Pitiful creatures, bound in chains, walk towards a huge, dark pit. It is the size of a village. The sides of this pit resemble an inside-out corkscrew. These thin, hunched over creatures walk to the edge and down the corkscrew trail. Others are climbing out, hold stones or pulling carts with them. Short, stocky figures, dressed in leather and metal, crack whips, swing clubs and truncheons, or use boots to push the creatures onwards.

“Behold… our past.” says Mother and indeed, those pitiful creatures are human! I see in the distance, small huts that resemble the huts and tents of my people, but these huts are not suitable for even the lowest of any of the tribes. Small figures, children, are tied to those huts, much like we would tie a cur. I see women, their ribs sticking out of their skin, tending to the children and small fires before the huts. It looks as if they are preparing the lowest of meals.

I move then, suddenly, over the pit and it spirals down into the darkness. Just barely within sight, I see an edifice built into the side of the pit, seeming to vanish into the ground. As I get closer, I realize that it is built into the ground, that I am an exposed portion of an underground structure. There are obscene creatures and figures standing there, some of which send a chill through my body, almost as if I recognize them… I move past them, into the tunnels of the structure… tunnels whose walls seem to undulate. The humans, and elves that I see, and even many littlelings, all show fear!

I exit the tunnels into a huge chamber, whose center is dominated by a hulking structure that screams of its alien nature. It is an affront to my eyes and yet I cannot look away. There are smaller structures surrounding the center, and within, humans and others are screaming in pain. Their bodies are lashed to what look like altars and their life-blood is spilled out into troughs that lead to a crystal that shines a purple-green light. This crystal reflects a beam into the center structure. I see more beams from many more surrounding altars.

“The blood sacrifices. This is where they draw their power and how they used us.” Mother intones and I fly on… closer to the center.

There are areas of darkness moving around the center and the wrongness of them shakes me, threatening to break the vision. I feel the heavy grip of Mother tighten and you slowly rise away from them and to a vantage where I see into the center of the structure, where an enormous crystal collects the various beams and shapes it into one central shaft of light that casts downwards. Below, beneath the beam. I see THEM! The Dark Ones – a similar sight to what I saw in the strange places beneath the ruined monastery where I found myself as a youth.

“Always in three, they come and they work their power. One alone is strong, two together are immense, but three… it is in three that they find their expression of powerfully realized.” Mother says.

“They are not from here, Børæn. They are invaders, come to plunder our lands. The power you see is how they come and go from the place they are birthed from. They take from this place to their own place. They suck us dry so that they might be powerful in their own place. Their anchors, their links of chain through the power they steal from our lives, that is the manner of their domination. That is how they bring the abominations and strange kind to our lands, and they take our treasure to their land, for their war that they fight there.”

I begin to rise now. I see the leather and metal clad ones scurrying about, working to expand the top of the central structure.

“The Dwarfs, they were the servants of the Dark Ones, created by those creatures to serve. The Dwarfs, they paid a terrible price for their own freedom and ours.” Mother’s voice intones.

I rise faster and faster now.

“The sacrifices we made, with the Elves from places far away, with the small ones, with the Dwarfs, they freed us from the shackles, but they did not defeat the Dark Ones. Always plotting, always planning, always looking to regain their grip on this place, and now the time has come again that we must fight them!”

I rise up out of the ground now, rising faster and faster through the sky and clouds.

I look at Mother and simply say: “Show me more so I can understand.”

“The Dark Ones … where there is one, there will be a second. Where there are two, there will be a third.” Mother replies. “Their names, we do not know.”

I cannot see her, but I feel her hand on my arm. As I pray to Meesha, I get the feeling Mother is looking at me again, appraising.

“The one you pray to, She is not of us or our ways, but I feel Her presence in you. Perhaps you are the one to be the bridge. Perhaps you will be able to make them understand.”

“For their cities and walls, their armies and knowledge, all of that will be as leaves in the wind before the Dark Ones unless we regain the ways of old.”

I am higher now, and the land spreads before you. I see the glint of water to the north and south, to the east and west. It is as if the entirety of the lands lie before you.

“When we overthrew the Dark Ones ages ago, with the elves, the littlelings, the Dwarfs, and others that legends speak of, humankind strode forth and took to the lands. They built, they grew, they… forgot. We, we did not. We knew that time would move on, that the door would reopen, that they would return.”

I am beginning to fly back towards the ground now, slowly, slowly, but speeding up.

“Age moved us much as it moves river and hill, rock and tree. I do not know all of the stories. I do not have all of the answers. I am but one Mother. The clans. The tribes. They have others. They must be called. They must share the knowledge. Their pieces will add to the whole.”

Faster and faster I fall, flying through clouds. The wind does not whip my face, but I know that I have great speed, faster than a diving hunting bird.

“You must seek our brothers and sisters. Go south. Go to the east of the Shining City that is soon to be wreathed in Darkness. Go to the mountains there and find our kin.”

Features on the ground start to resolve themselves. There is snow on the ground, on the hills and trees. A white blanket.

“Go south to the lands of swamp and forest, to the hills there and find our kin.”

I realize that a part of the ground looks like a village, a winter home… your tribe’s winter home!

“You will find more pieces there. We know that the Dark Ones are coming. We know that we once held the power, forged by Elf and Littleling, guided by Dwarf, to destroy the Dark Ones. Many warriors, women, men, shamen, mages – they all died, but the doors were closed. We made mistakes in forging that power, so the legends say, but we found the way and were able to throw off the shackles.”

I see that I am heading towards what looks like a bonfire, with figures standing or sitting around it… I see myself from above… I am falling very quickly towards them!

“This is what you will need to become, as our King… the wanderer who finds the ways of Old. Will you succeed? Only your heart and muscle, sinew and will, can decide that.”

—

Silence fills the hall. Those who are there stare unblinkingly at the Queen and Orpo. No one dared to move while Orpo shared the lore.

Reaching for her mug with a shaking hand, she quickly takes a deep drink. Calmer now, she places the mug down and grabs Orpo’s hand.

“How did my husband react to this? How did he handle the visions he received?” She questions quickly.

Orpo sighs, and looks at his Queen and smiles.

“My child you know the answers. Børæn picked himself off the ground and looked at me and the Mother not with fright, not with arrogance, but with strength. His first thought was the care of his tribe. His second thought was to gather hunters — which he did — so that he could ride into battle to slay what he saw.”

“Børæn, even though he did not know it then, became our king. Yes, he had a long path to follow, but at that moment, when a lesser man would have fleed from that tent, after seeing what he saw, Børæn stood, grabbed his weapons and smiled! ‘Well, then, if I am too be King, I must war. If I must war, then I need a pack. My faith in Meesha will guide me, the wolf will aid me, and my weapons… My weapons will kill my enemies.’”

“It was that moment my Queen, that I knew the boy had become a man. He left us so that he could be forged into something new, and when he returned he pulled us from the darkness,” Orpo says with pride.

“Børæn is not as complicated as many think he is. He is guided by three things. One, his devotion to Meesha. Two, the well being of his tribe. Three, his love for you.”

Standing up slowly, Orpo bows to Fríđr.

“Now my child, you know the lore. The lore is yours, and the lore lives within you.”

“Thank you,” Fríđr whispers.

“Bah! It is just lore. Important, yes, but just lore. Do not let it weigh on you. If you do, you will be walking hunched over like I do,” laughs Orpo as he turns to leave.

Fríđr drinks from her mug again reflecting on what she has learned.

Seeing the door open once more, she smiles as Børæn walks in.

Deep winter.

In the north, it is the time of the forever night.

It is the time that the fruit of the labor of spring, summer, and fall is enjoyed.

It is the time of reflection, boasts, and rest.

Warriors who during the warmer months roam the mountain valleys protecting the Valley of the Wolf, spend their time carving, crafting, and even weaving.

“I’ve asked this question many times, but no one answers me,” states a small boy sitting next to his father by the fire. The boy is learning how to carve, but is more interested in listening to the stories his father tells.

“Child, if you spend more time listening your carving of a tree would look like a tree and not a snake,” the father says with a chuckle.

Before he can ask again, a large man approaches the fire. Padding next to him is the large black wolf that never leaves his side.

The boy looks up in awe. Here is the king.

Børæn at the age of 50, still is imposing. His thick muscles show no sign of age, and other than the streaks of grey in his hair and beard, Børæn still looks the same as he did so many year ago.

Sitting near the fire, Børæn looks to the child.

“Ask your question little one, and I will answer them,” Børæn.

The lodge grows quiet and wait to hear their king.

“I am not a Merkitä Muistiin, but I can tell you the lore…”

After Meesha’s words, I saw the goddess was true to her word, the rest of the journey passes quickly.

Within days I reached the winter home of the Wolf Tribe. Instead of the normal look of the tents, the animals gathered around the perimeter, the puffs of smoke rising from the warming fires — that wass all here, but so to were banners hanging from the tents, from poles and cord strung between them. All of them covered in symbols used by the medicine folk, shamans and witches. A great fire burned in the center of the camp, and I saw a ring of people surrounding the fire, meditating. Also in this circle was my mother and father.

I stopped my horse short, and dismounted. I led her back down the hill and told her to wait.

I looked at Talvi, and the bond we shared had her know what would come next: destiny.

We snuck to the top of the hill, and laid flat. Together we laid there, using the tall grass to hide us.

My axe wAs in my hand, and I remember feeling my manger simmer.

Feeling it, Talvi licked my hand as if to tell me, keep things in check. Whatever comes next, she and I will face it.

The chant was unlike anything I ever heard from the various shamen, witches and wise folk that I once interacted with.

The flame dimmed, and suddenly burst with a strange white and green color. The eldest shaman stood, turns and begins intoning to the circle.

One by one, the elders stood, steeping forward and thrust both arms into the fire! As they withdraw their arms, the strange fire remained on their skin, dancing and flickering until they sit back down.

Each shaman and witch did this , and then came my father and step-mother. With defiance they thrust their arms in, and backing away, the flames remained on their arms growing intensit!

The shamen, witches and elders watched impassively at the two writhing on the ground. The flames spread across their bodies, burning their clothes. The two rolled around on the ground, trying to beat the unnatural fire off. This lasted for a few moments and then the flames suddenly disappeared.

The oldest elder, the wise woman stands and pointed at your parents. She said a word and it echoed among the tents… “SATEESE” At that, others echo her word.

“SATEESE”

“Your old ways don’t interest me!” My father spits at them. “Your trickery won’t change anything, nor take away what is MINE! This tribe is MINE and I say NO. We will NOT join the Increpaytone!”

Seeing the scene below, I am a mix of emotions.

I am angry because I want to be the one to kill my father and step-mother.

I wanted to punish them for their evil.

I am confused because this was something I had not prepared myself for.

I look at Talvi, and we lock eyes. I feel her reassurance and her determination pass into me with that look. 

“Come, Talvi, we have a task to face. Blade and claw. Tooth and fist. Together we face what is to come with Meesha’s name upon our lips, and her words within our hearts.”

I stand.

Instead of my ax or my sword, I draw Lohikäärme Hammas. With this action, my life will be changed forever more.

I walk slowly into the village. I walk with confidence. I walk with purpose. I walk with my faith in Meesha.

As I enter the village I see those who I grew up with. Those who I hunted with. Those who I once had grudges with, but then became fast friends. I look at the ones who I considered my brothers and sisters, only to have them betray me in my moments of need.

As I walk closer to the fire I stand taller. The realization comes to me in a flash: whatever is to come will not be my end. It will be the end of the current path my people are on.

I smile. 

Now is the time I will show my goddess my faith in her, and my love for her.

With dagger in hand, I grip it tightly.

The crowd whispers my name, and my father’s eyes grow wide. Instead of anger in there is only fear.

I look to the viper whose actions poisoned my people. She glares in malevolence as if she wants nothing more than kill me.

I turn looking at the tribe. I speak:

“I am Børæn of the Wolf Tribe.”

“I am Børæn of the Axe.” 

“I am Børæn of the Sword.”

“I am Meesha’s Rage.” 

“I am Meesha’s Warrior.”

I am Meesha’s priest.

With each statement my voice grows louder; stronger. It reverberates around the tribe, and no one speaks."

I raise Lohikäärme Hammas above my head.

“This is Lohikäärme Hammas. This is the dagger of Aapo, the dagger of Elias, the dagger of Aku, the dagger of Jere, the  dagger of Sakarias, the dagger of Valthjof, and now the dagger of Børæn.”

“This is the dagger that has been passed down from one chieftain’s eldest to the next. This is the dagger Aapo used to unite the Wolf Tribe, and it is this dagger which sealed the bonds of leadership and family, and cemented that his line would lead the Wolf till the sun is snuffed out, and the stars are no more.”

Not a sound is heard as I speak. Even the fire seems to have gone silent.

“This marks my claim. This marks my heritage. This marks my lore. Though my clan ties mark my birth, Lohikäärme Hammas marks my right.”

“You are weak and a coward. You are no son of mine. You stole Lohikäärme Hammas because you are nothing more than a thief!” Yells my father.

I spin, with dagger in hand, and plunge Lohikäärme Hammas into my father’s chest. In one swift motion, I remove his heart and hold it in my hand showing it to my father.

“You are not worthy of this tribe. You failed this tribe when you allowed the viper to corrupt you and our tribe. When you killed my mother…” 

Hearing that, the death of his mother and his father’s responsibility for it, the tribe gasps.

“As a coward, you killed her and blamed me for your sins.”

My step-mother goes to speak, but Talvi silences her with a low growl.

“You are no longer of the Wolf. The name Arnbnjog, will be struck from our lore. No longer will Arnbnjorg be part of the roll of kings. Your name will never be spoken again. There is no place for you at Tapio’s fire. In death, you will walk the Lands of Shadow until the stars no longer shine, and worlds no longer exist. You are no longer of the Sword, you are dead to your clan. You are no longer of the Raven.”

Life leaves my father’s eyes as the last words are spoken. Throwing the heart into the fire, I turn to Ingvildr.

For the first time in my life, I see real fear in her eyes.

“Viper. Though my father killed my mother, it was you who gave him the knife. It was your poison that worked its’ way into the Wolf. It is your evil which marked me as a traitor. Your death will be but one step in cleansing my tribe. Your death will have no honor.”

With that, I cut Ingvildr throat and say no more.

“By rights of  Lohikäärme Hammas. I am now king.”

Some try to speak out, but it is apparent that my statement is open not for debate. It is a statement of fact.

“By tradition, I say the following: those of the Raven Clan have safe passage until sunset to leave this tribe. If by the last ray of sun you are still here, you will be killed. No mercy will be given.” 

With that, a few in the crowd begin to leave, and looks are thrown at them by the tribe. Looks of anger. Looks of vengeance.

“Merkitä Muistiin.” I said simply.

As if by magic Orpo appears. Seeing him I smiled.

“I see even you are too stubborn to succumb to age,” I laughed.

Orpo hits me with his staff, and the tribe laughs. With that laugh, all tension seems to lift.

“Be serious, now is not the time for the child,” Orpo stated.

Regaining myself I spoke: “As Merkitä Muistiin, Orpo, you are the keeper of our lore. On this day, you will strike the Raven Clan from our lore. From this day they will be known as the Clan That Will Not Be Named.”

“It will be done my King,” Orpo simply stated.

“From this day forward Arnbnjorg will be removed from the roll of kings. No longer will his name be uttered. Arnbnjorg is now of the Shadow. He walks alone and he has no lodge.”

“It will be done my King,” Orpo stated with a hint of happiness.

I looked around, as if I look at each member of my tribe separately.

“I am your king, and together we will cleanse this tribe of the poison which has festered. Together The Wolf will regain its’ honor. Together we will add to our Lore. Gone is our divisions. Axe, Sword, Boar, Horse, Eagle, and the Rabbit clans will be at peace. We will be united, and we will show all that together The Wolf will not be cowered.”

The crowd’s mood brightens with the naming of the clans.

“Unlike my father, I do not see you as tools to be used. I see you as my brothers and sisters. We are united, and together we will show the world who we are.”

“In Meesha’s name I pledge to you a new day has dawned.”

The room is quiet as Børæn tells his lore. When finished no one knows what to say.

“What happened next?” Asks the child.

Børæn chuckles, patting the child on his shoulder. “You will learn that when you are older. Little one. For now think on what you have heard.”

With that Børæn stands and leaves the fire.

It was the 26th day of Summer, Dame Oriole had escaped and we were unsure what to do next. We decided to go see the Sisters to find out if they had discovered anything about those Chaos towers. So, I set off with Beladur, Pyria, Ragar, Mazlor (and Itsy) and I asked Joffrey to accompany us.
On the way Mazlor was looking for a new helper (Meat shield?) and decided we should check out the nearby convent. All was going well until Beladur decided to go visiting the nuns to see if any were looking for some companionship. Apparently, in the middle of the night, he barged in upon a very agitated woman who promptly struck him, and then attempted to catch and possibly bash him into non existence. Fortunately for him, she was exceptionally clumsy and didn’t catch him before he managed to get back to us.
In the morning, when Mazlor requested an apprentice to journey with him, who do you think volunteered? It was her, Shammel was her name. She seems a stout if overly rigorous individual. Her unfortunate clumsiness is sure to be a problem.
So we continued on our way and visited the Sisters. Who do you think was there? It was our old comrade Boraen. He was much changed. He has become a cleric of Misha!
We had a very pleasant conversation with the sisters. They informed us that the Chaos tower was mysteriously built about 300 years ago, but there were no records of the construction. It also seems that Alfred & Gerald were survivors of a group called the ….
After a pleasant dinner, we spent the night, and decided to go see what was going on there. I decided that this time I would be more straight forward, and declare myself and demand answers. It did not go exactly as planned….I proclaimed myself as a Paladin and demanded answers as to the nature of this Chaos. Gerald said he would expect no less from a Paladin of Tangadorin (I had not proclaimed the name of my God), but refused to answer. He shut the door upon me!
Boraen took a more direct approach. He bashed through the door into Alfred’s home and wrestled him to the ground. Alfred managed to break free. They both charged the tower and ran straight thru the doors, almost pulling Joffrey in with them. Then a hideous demon attacked. I charged it with the full fury of Tangadorin, but it disappeared the moment I struck it.
We searched the buildings and found the keys.
After a bit of experimentation, Boraen opened the door. He and Ragar walked through a portal of complete blackness. They returned very shaken. They told us that inside were demons torturing Alfred and Gerald. They allowed them to question Alfred 7 Gerald. They learnt that there are many towers and that Alfred & Gerald were the attendents of this Tower. The towers are a network for “The Master”. “The Master” and the “Dark Ones” are in conflict to enslave the world. Very soon something very bad is coming and the voice of the Master demanded that we serve them, or be destroyed with everyone else.
Boraen stalled and offered to consider.
We took the keys and left, but shortly after , the keys disappeared. Alfred & Gerald had confirmed that Irecia is home to the Dark ones….perhaps we shook investigate.

Jorann, it is with a heavy heart that I must report that I have failed your trust in me. When you told me of this awful shape shifter, and confided your belief that the power to sense Chaos, which Tangadorin had bestowed upon me, would be essential in rooting this thing out, I was overjoyed. I was sure that this was an opportunity for me to prove myself to you and to Tangadorin. Yet, I was unworthy. Let me tell you what happened, so that you can properly chastise me.
I reported to the Marshal, as you had instructed me. I went with Beladur, Fergus and Mazlor, along with their faithful servants Wilheim, Josef and Itsy. I brought Joffrey, who seems to be a most sensible fellow. We explained to the Marshal about my ability and how we believed that this creature must be using chaos magic. We came up with the plan to have the Duke’s brother wear his Armor and pretend to be him as he inspected the folk of the keep. The Marshal would make sure that everyone was present and accounted for. I would disguise myself as one of his personal guard, and stay next to him as he walked by everyone in the keep. We made extensive preparations, scattered our friends in strategic locations and set our plan in motion. We walked by everyone, but no one seemed to be of, or using Chaos. However, apparently three guards and one staff member were missing. We had procured a dog to help with our search, so we took it to the staff members quarters and had him follow the scent. It took us down in t the dungeon where The Dame had been kept. Unfortunately, when we told the Marshal to bring everyone out, he had only left two guards on the secret entrance to the tunnels. They were dead, the entrance was unblocked, and the Dame was gone! This is how I have failed you Jorann, I should have been more clear to the marshal that the guards should not be reduced, but I was not.
Godfrey told us that they had decided he was of no further use, and left him. He told us that they were heading south to begin a revolt with Marshal Kelvin. We rushed to the south gate, and I summoned Arion to bear me aloft as I searched for them. Tangadorin drew me to them at once, they were riding hard due south. I tried to signal my friends, but they could not see me. It was clear that they were heading due south and were not going to stop. I barely made it to my friends before Arion was exhausted and disappeared. They had already passed the elvish fort, but I couldn’t pursue them further. We all regrouped at the fort to continue our pursuit. We will get them yet!

After all the fuss, we sorted ourselves out. I didn’t see Pyrea or Ragar, but maybe they were helping the town and keep guards with the prisoners. Or maybe they were hauling Belaldur’s chestnuts out of the fire? I have to confess I was busy with a wedge of cheese set out on the bar upstairs.

The rest of us – let’s see, that was myself, Joran and Joffrey, Itsy and Mazlor, and Fergus, Willie, and Josef, plus Veckstos – dashed across town to the Temple of the Light. Joran joined in healing and aiding the wounded as Mazlor talked to Averin. I looked about and saw a few finely clothed merchant folk, one with his right arm awkwardly cradled in his left. Walmar’d been waiting some time to be tended, but triage had put the many burned and concussed and stabbed and all ahead of him.

And, my, wasn’t his son Kaymar red-faced with impotent rage. His wife Roebuck was there, too – staying calm but wondering why nothing could be done to help her husband. I sidled up and, as Kaymar clutched at his purse, offered my services for a fee. Watched carefully by Roebuck, Fergus resocketed Walmar’s dislocated shoulder. I pulled power from the earth to reknit his broken arm, and made a fuss about mixing together mint and willow (and I told them, ground gemstone) into a tea to ease his pain and soothe him.

I asked and received a royal for the treatment! And Roebuck asked me to visit her in the days ahead to talk of the herb and nature lore I had used. Perhaps I can get back my cloak then – it was all I had to use as a sling, besides the furs in my armor.

As I was finishing up, Mazlor emerged from the back with Gazelle. Averin would stay at the temple, organizing the relief, and Isty would stay with her. Gazelle, grabbing her spell book, joined us in our desperate effort to protect the Duke from the machinations of the Lightbringer faction. We collected our steeds and raced for the Keep.

We got there just as a parade of dignitaries and armed folk were entering it. Joran, Gazelle, and Mazlor muscled through the watching crowd – “In the name of the Light” – and we made the gates. Gazelle demanded, as a Flame, that we all be let through, and we were admitted but told to await the Marshall’s pleasure in the barracks. Fergus objected, but the guards let only Veckstos out, to report to his superior, the Captain of the Duke’s Guard.

After a bit, we were summoned to the Keep library. Gazelle left for the Duke’s welcoming reception; she patted my hand sympathetically and promised to have some food sent in for a late lunch. Once that arrived, we set to with gusto. I put aside a couple pastries for later, and advised Willie and Josef and Fergus to do the same.

The Marshall, looking grim, came into the room. Mazlor, after verifying Roehm’s identity, showed him the papers, one at a time, proving Orielt and Godfrey complicit in the plot on the Duke. We warned him, too, that the skinwalker was still loose. Marshall Roehm declared he would confine Orielt and Godfrey to their quarters, once the fête was over. 20 trusted men would guard the Duke. And Roehm would take some of the papers to prove the conspiracy to the Duke.

After the reception ended, and the crowds passed, Ynnivax came to gives us the news that Godfrey had gone quietly to his room, while Orielt raged and had to be bound. Gazelle took both their magic talismans. The Duke, furious, demanded the right to try them both under the King’s Law. Callista, the Captain of the Duke’s Guard was astonished; clearly Veckstos had failed to brief her before the reception. And Vekstos was nowhere to be found. We all set a password so we could know each other, with a skinwalker on the loose.

Come sundown, we were escorted to the kitchen, a fine place to snag a plate from the foods prepared but not served at the cancelled state dinner. As we made for our rooms for the night, we heard a great commotion, and a Duke’s Guardsman rushed to me, gave the password, and told me, “There is a monster in the Duke’s chamber!”

We ran towards the sounds of battle. The door to the Duke’s room glowed a dark pulsing purple, jolting the guards as they tied to open it. Joran quickly dispelled the magic, and a guard kicked the door open. The Duke was gasping, badly injured, and three beleaguered guards were fighting a viciously animated bed!

Fergus charged at the bed-beast, while Mazlor cast dispel magic at it (to no effect). I summoned insects from the Keep, but the Keep had been scoured so that only centipedes and earwigs and ants responded, and they were too slow to make a difference in the battle. Joran ran to the Duke with a potion, then helped him to the door, where she casts a healing spell on him. Mazlor met them there with two more potions, and the Duke is nearly good as new.

The bed-beast killedone of the guards, and nearly offed Fergus twice, but Fergus hit it a few times, and I got in a good smash with my cudgel before some guards came up and finished it. As the beast perished, Pyrea’s friend Joseph – who turned out to be the Duke’s court wizard – and Marshal Roehm arrived and conferred with us. Joesph wanted the Duke safely back in Rondorin, and he had a way to get him there!

In the basement, Joseph showed us a magical gateway, one of an ancient network that connected all the keeps before the Doom, and swears us all to secrecy. After rotating some stone disks so the right symbols showed (Here Fergus’ strength and my keen eyes were most appreciated) and an elaborate spell, the gateway opened and the Duke and Joseph stepped through, to return in a few days. Roehm would cancel all the Duke’s meetings and parties and tell everyone the Duke is recovering in secured chambers. The Duke charged Roehm to root out the conspiracy and catch the skinwalker – and Roehm turned to us, his troubleshooters.

A clue soon presented itself. That which we thought was Veckstos was actually the skinwalker in his shape. The guard he’d gone off with was slain.

As for the conspiracy, Orielt was dragged to the dungeon and a second holy symbol taken from her. She tried using a word of command but Callista punched her mouth and gagged her. We went to talk to Godfrey in his room as we took him to the dungeon.

And then such a babble of the Light this and the old gods that between Mazlor, Joran, and Godfrey. I mostly tuned it out, but one point stood out. Godfrey was converted to the Lightbringers by a silver-tongued cleric. Mayhap he’d been charmed? Perhaps the kindly Godfrey could be freed of the spell? I must talk to Joran or someone who can dispel magic. Bed first, though – well, perhaps another turn through the kitchen before that.

I find myself with a few calm moments and I look back at the events of the last few days.
Grel came back to town with news of a plot to assassinate the Duke and lay the blame on our Temple. Joffry and Lidia returned to Enonia and much to my delight, Joffry has been anointed by Tangadorin as a fellow priest. Kjeld decided it was time to come out of hiding and have a parade for the Old Gods. I knew trouble would follow, but Tangadorin would want his name spread, so I agreed. All in all, the parade went better than expected, only near the end did some hooligans disrupt it. A small fight broke out which I was unable to stop, but none was seriously hurt. The city guards told us to disperse, and that was the end of it, or so I thought.
The next day, some unknown trouble maker roused a mob to attack the worshippers of the old gods. Things were getting far out of hand. The marshal’s men put a swift and fairly brutal end to the uprising.
We decided to seek out the Duke’s assistant who was already in town. We never saw him, just some of his guards. Mazlor heard about a haunted house where the residents were worried, and since we had nothing better to do we investigated. Turned out there are secret tunnels al throughout Enonia. One was under the house. We followed it and found two men burying an indistinguishable body. We apprehended them and had them lead us through the tunnels. We took the body to the Temple of the light. There Mazlor and Averin conversed with the corpse and found out that it was the Duke’s assistant. He had been killed and apparently replaced with a doppleganger just as Irem was.
Things look very bad, I am not sure how this will turn out! I pray to Tangadorin that he will help defend his people, and help reveal the truth of this awful plot.
The next day, we went to the Temple of the light, to perhaps get aid in our search. Averin told Mazlor that the High preiestess of Rhonderin was on her way, but she feared for her safety. As hers was a voice of moderation and acceptance, we decided it would be a good idea to see to her safety. A good thing too, for we foiled an ambush set to attack her. In all honesty, we were not doing spectacularly. We were greatly outnumbered and Things were not going well. Gizelle called for everyone to stand down, which we did. Then I went forth with the leader of the ambush to explain. The other cleric tried to convince Gizelle that we were there to attack her and he was there to defend her. I tried to explain the truth, but with Mazlor held, I feared this would not end well. Gizelle used a spell to determine who was lying, and promptly dismissed the lightbringer. With the help of her and her guards, we dispatched the lightbringers and took most prisoner. We escorted Giselle back to Enonia and sent the lightbringers to the Marshall’s jail.
The next morning, we awoke to news that the lightbringers had all escaped. We finally got to see the Marshal and told him of the plot and secret tunnels. He belatedly remembered that there was a tunnel leading in to the dungeon which he then caused to be locked and guarded. The Marshal told us that Orielle and Godfrey had been questioning him profusely about the guards and preparation for the Dukes arrival. Mazlor told him that they were not to be trusted and he should prepare some contingencies. We asked for some men to help us with a planned raid on a lightbringer stronghold, and he gave us 10 men.
Ward had informed us that there was some gathering going on in the basement of the Militiamen and the Bawd. We decided that Mazlor and the men would attack from the ground, and the rest of us would go in through the secret tunnel. On our way, we encountered some damned which effectively cut off any retreat. We managed things quite well, with Mazlor’s team gaining access from above, and us from below. We managed to capture the ringleader Marcus. The orator was killed, and many townsmen taken prisoner. We managed to rescue a former guard of the duke named Vextos.
We then rushed back to the temple, grabbed Giselle and went to the keep. Unfortunatly, we were too late! The Duke had arrived! We made our way into the keep after the Duke’s party. By This time, it was just me, Joffrey, Mazlor, Itsy, Fergus, Balto, Vilheim and Joseph, Giselle and Vextos
The marshal had us taken to the Barracks, where we were detained. Vextos was eager to report to the commander of the guard. Giselle had a guard escort him to the commander to report. Then she left to prepare for the feast. Eventually, we were escorted to the Marshal’s study to wait for him to speak with us. When he finally came in, Mazlor showed him the papers that we had discovered in Marcus’s lair that implicated Godfrey and Dame Oriele. He took a few to show to the Duke and arranged to have both of them arrested. Yinnivax came in shortly after and told us that Godfrey had gone quietly, but the Dame went screaming and shouting. We asked about Vextos, but no one had heard from him. Kalista, the captain of the Duke’s guard came in, and when we told her about the skinstealer and Vextos, she was surprised, Vextos had never reported in. It seems that Vextos was the skinstealer! The body of the guard who escorted him was found. Mazlor, Fergus, Balto and I were allowed to sleep in the kitchens to stay near at hand, but Joffrey, Itsy, Josef and Vilheim had to stay in the barracks. In the middle of the night. a gurd came and told us there was a struggle going on, the Duke was in danger! We ran to the Duke’s chamber, but there was a magical shield on the door and the guards couldn’t get in. I quickly dispelled it, and we broke through. We found the Duke gravely injured and three guards fighting an animated bed. I ran to the duke and gave him a healing potion. I would have healed him there, but he wanted to get out immediately. So, while Fergus and Balto helped fight the bed, I helped the Duke out of the chamber. Once he was out, I cast a cure spell on the Duke, the guards almost attacked me while I was at it, but Mazlor assured them it was ok. The Marshal came with the Duke’s mage Joseph. Mazlor and I did not wish to leave the Duke’s side while he was in danger, so the Marshal, the Duke, Joseph, Mazlor and I all went to the basement where Joseph swore us to secrecy, as he took the Duke to a magical chamber which he activated to send the Duke back to Rhonderin. The Duke said he would be back in two days, and charged the Marshal with finding the skinstealer. The Marshal then charged us with the task! We have two days to find and kill or capture the skinstealer! This seems to me to be a form of Chaos magic., I suspect Grel will be up to this task. I must meditate and commune with Tangadorin.

Exciting times in the lands of the Midlands of the Duchy of Irecia! The Duke himself, Duke Archanis Reynald, is visiting the town of Enonia to hold a war council with Marshal Roehm, Marshal Kevlin and Marshal Ynivax. Several other nobles will be attending, and some of the higher priests of the area will be joining them. It is said that the Duke’s advance retinue are already in Enonia, busy with planning for the visit. The Duke’s personal secretary, Collin Vilcin, has been seen staying in the Mug & Pot Inn.

Mercenary companies are already returning to the lands around Enonia, eager to be a part of any war plans developed in this council.

The Eagle’s Alehouse has opened again and is back in business. Following the untimely death of Avael Guntin in the Winter, the inn had been closed, but it has opened recently under new management – a gentleman named Divos Senos-son. He is reputed to cook quite well and attracts many craftsmen and merchants, unlike the previous management that had a more shady clientele.

Rumors are thick that one of the Heroes of the Duchy, Canon Mazlor, might be elevated to High Canon and become the Priest of the temple in Yew! His reputation throughout the Midlands is well known, most recently participating in the Battle of Upland Hold which broke the back of the Black Brotherhood to the north.

A pagan festival is slated to take place on the 20th day of Summer! Encouraged, perhaps, by the tolerance of the Marshal and Temple, two pagan priests by name of Kjeld and Turgon have proposed a festival to take place – a procession to the Marketplace and special booths and craftsmen who are members of these cults. It is not known if Jorann of the Tangadorin cult will take part, but considering the prominence of herself, along with the cult protector Grel, it’s not likely they’ll miss this celebration. This announcement is not without controversy, as the bills posted around town about the festival have been defaced or torn down.

Jorann,

I have a great deal to tell you, our latest mission was a complete success! With the aid of Sir Reynald, we successfully took Upland hold, and freed Anastasia!
We were about to leave to meet with Sir Reynald to plan the assault on the keep, when Balto received word from Godfrey that he was calling in the favor that he had extracted from us to raise Beladur from the dead. Though we wanted to go straight to Upland hold, a promise must be kept. So, we went to Old Fawn to meet with Godfrey and repay the debt.
On the way, we met a God! It was the same God that Joffrey dreamed about. The man with the three legged dog and the raven, who said “ You walk with my brother, but you also walk with me.” His name is Almonde, he spoke with us at some length questioning what I get from serving Tangadorin and what Tangadorin gets from my service. When he took his leave from us, he leapt away and was soon lost to sight! Then his raven told me that, the enemy of your enemy is not your friend, do not open the door lest you release something that is best left alone. This is not an exact quote, but was in reference to the chaos tower which I had admitted was much on my mind and that I did burn to reveal the secrets within.
That night, our entire party shared a dream where I stood before one of the doors from the chaos tower and I was trying to open it. I was pushing with all my might and it was starting to give. I saw a glimpse of a green tower within, but then Cerasaii woke me up.
I must admit, that I had more than a few reservations in promising to pay an unknown favor, but the payment is something that I would have been compelled to do even without the debt. He told us that he had heard word of a plot against the Duke, and our Temple as well! He told us that he had heard whisperings that the Dame had instigated a plot to endanger the Duke and cast the suspicion upon our Temple in order to get a royal edict to empower and legitimize the Lightbringers.
Obviously, this would result in the you, me and Torak all being publicly executed. Weather the Duke will be harmed or just threatened is unclear, but in order to implicate our temple, it must occur in or near Enonia. Godfrey told us that the Duke is planning to come to Enonia in the near future, and that this is almost certainly when the attack will occur.
I suggest that you have Torak report to the Temple immediately! We must be prepared.
We decided that since the Duke had not yet begun travelling, we had enough time to assault the keep and still get back to Enonia before the Duke. That night, Beladur took us to meet two sisters who he felt might be able to shed light on this Almonde and the strange dream our group had after we met him.
They told us that Alfred and Gerald are obviously doing rituals with demons. They also told us of a green tower held by the Nvond family a bit east of the chaos tower. There must be some link.
They told us that Almonde is a God of travelers, and that Tangadorin gains power from our revealing secrets and shedding light on lost knowledge.
We asked them to research into the magical chamber in Upland hold, this could be important information.
Then we headed back to Yew. Reynald had already left to Pencurth, so we hurried on our way there. We found him and decided upon our plan. We would sneak in and take out the leaders and Reynald would assault the front.
We snuck in with no problems, climbed up the well and snuck right over to the building where we knew the leaders were. Everything went remarkably well. We took out the military leader Lon and took him prisoner. Then we made it up to the second floor before the first alarm was sounded. We took out the guards and freed a few prisoners who told us where the mage was. We found her withought much problem, and with a successful silence spell, she only got off a single spell before Pyria killed her. Anastasia was freed from the enchantment, and we were ready to make our escape.
We took Lon, and went to the first gate tower, wher we took out the guards and released the weights, then to the second tower. We spiked the door, killed the gaurds and opened the gate. Then we signaled Reynald to attack.
Reynald’s forces killed 60 men without taking a single casualty and the rest broke and ran. Meanwhile the castle forces were pouring out while we shot arrows and spells at them. We threw Philopote’s dead body down and told them that there leaders were vanquished. They surrendered and we were able to take the keep.
We are all on our way to Enonia now to protect the Duke. We are bringing Anastasia to reunite her with Marshal Raimes. Reynald is also on his way as I felt I had to inform him of the danger to his brother. He is clearly a man of honor and loyalty and I always have problems not talking, so…..
We shall be with you soon, put everyone on the alert. We will certainly need to inform the Marshal of the possible threat. Be careful not to make any accusations as we have no proof of anything yet. As of right now, it is a possible threat, that I believe, but that is all we know.

Greetings High Priestess,

I hope this message finds you well, and that all is well in Enonia.

Allow me to fill you in on our latest adventure. Our group spent most of the spring hunting the Black Riders. Taran, Fergus, Beladur, Pyria, Mazlor, Sally, Itsy, Josef, Vilheim and I decided to scout Upland Hold to find out what was going on. We were granted ten men to accompany us by Marshal Yinnivax. We decided to try to get word out that we were a heavily provisioned group on our way towards the mountains. We stopped in pentacurth and pretended to be waiting out the storm. A few went to Ironham to let out word of our plans, then returned with one of the traitors.We waited a few days, and finally ten Black Riders came and demanded our provisions. We killed some and captured the rest.
We continued on our way, and were soon attacked by 20 Black Riders. We took out most of them and captured the rest. We then returned to Marshal Yinnivax with the prisoners and news tha we had seriously depleted the forces in Upland Hold.
Hopefully, we can soon mount a true assault on the Keep!

Incidently, I hope you can recruit a couple young priest to come to Old Fawn to start spreading word of Tangadorin. The Marshal has already agreed to allow it.

I wish you well, and will report again if there is news.

High Priestess,

A strange adventure occurred that I must inform you of. Malor, Sally, Itsy, Beladur, Taron and I set out once again to rescue Anastasia. We had little difficulty reaching Upland Hold and made our way into the secret entrance. This is where things became odd. After we entered, there was a ledge 10 feet up and Beladur decided to climb it. Suddenly, he was caught by something and was being pulled up. I grabbed his legs to pull him back, but it was too strong. I won’t go into too much detail, suffice it to say it was a bit hairy, but we defeated the cave fisher and continued exploring. While exploring, we passed a stairway which Beladur decided to look into. This seemed to disturb the undead Licht?/Wight? Creature that was standing guard. We beat a strategic retreat, but it followed. Eventually Mazlor was able to turn it. Allowing us to raid it’s chamber and take a chest full of gold. We continued on, and Beladur was attacked by Rock men. I used Tangadorin’s gift of comprehension to talk to them and convinced them we meant no harm. They called themselves the lost, since they had been ensorcelled into these creatures and could not leave or remember their lives.
We continued on and found a pool with columns and a hole in the ceiling. It turned out that this was the bottom of a well in the keep. We continued and found the entrance into a storeroom below the keep. There was a trap door which led to a room with a door. Outside that door was a barracks with sleeping soldiers. We decided not to continue further at that time. While investigating the storeroom, we found a passage to a chamber of extremely powerful magic! Could you please check with the sages in Enonia and find out if there is some hidden magical history of this keep? This was clearly a level of magic far beyond anything I have ever seen. This definitely needs to be investigated by people who know what they are doing. I fear to touch anything in that chamber. On our way back, Beladur climbed the well and looked around, Then Mazlor tried to Dispel the magic on one of the rock men. It worked! He then tried it again on the other 6, 2 did not survive, but the other four were freed. We took the 5 survivors to Pentacurst and left themwith Girault.
Please get back to me with anything you can fnd on the history of Upland Hold.

Your Friend and Faithful Servant,
Grel

High Priestess Jorann,

I am bursting with excitement to tell you of my recent doings. The most important (to me) is that I have pleased Tangadorin enough that he has granted me my Paladin’s Warhorse, and a more fantastic steed has never graced a warrior. It is no ordinary steed! It is a magical entity. It looks like a winged horse, but it is not wholly (but it clearly is Holy) visible. It seems to be formed of the clouds. When I mount it, I feel closer to Tangadorin than I have ever felt when not in His actual presence. Tangadorin has told me that it has incredible speed, although I have not put that to the test yet. But most amazing of all is that it flies! You can’t imagine the joy in flying on the back of the corporeal proof of your God’s love! It is a truly amazing feeling.
But I fear I have digressed from my report. Forgive me for that, but I am still awed by this incredible gift. Much has been going on up here to the north. As you no doubt have heard, Sir Yinnivax has been named Marshal. We went to see him to congratulate him. Also, we figured we would see what he knew of the apparent turning of Anastasia, Marshal Raimse’s daughter.
He was pleased to see us, and told us that he had three main problems and he would appreciate our help in any of them. First, there was Notchland keep to the East, Second, the Goblins to the South and Third, the Black riders to the North in Upland hold. From our earlier scouting, we had found that Anastasia was in Upland hold. We also found evidence that she was in the company of a Black rider female mage. We think there is a possibility that she has been charmed.
I spoke to the Marshal about Tangadorin. He has agreed that Tangadorin’s preist are free to come to Yew and tell people of Tangadorin’s way. This would of course mean they would have to help out in any way they could, but I am sure that they would wish to help anyway. He has not yet agreed to a Temple, but I feel sure that in time, he will allow it. You will need to see if Tangadorin can provide some priests for the new posting.
We decided to head there with the hope of rescuing Anastasia, and gaining intel for Marshal Yinnivax.
Mazlor (with Sally and Itsy), Fergus (with Josef and Vilheim), Pyria, a new adventurous mage named Tanner, and myself set off. Mazlor decided to see if a priest named Girault wanted to come as we were planning to scout out Pentacurst, the town he had just been forced to evacuate on our way. He was very willing and brought along two veterans who had told us of a secret entrance into Upland hold.
Our journey was uneventful, until we were about a day’s ride from Pentacurst. That’s when we encountered 4 humans running away from 20 goblins. I charged in with my fellow adventurers close behind and we were able to rescue the humans and defeat the goblins. I should point out that the new mage accounted himself quite well. He put a half dozen to sleep with a single spell. Vilheim was a bit put off as he went under too, but he seemed quite impressed with the results.
Pyria managed to tie one up for questioning. This is where I am deeply troubled. For not only did Pyria deceive the unfortunate goblin that she would let him go. But then when we had finished questioning it, she did release it, but only to kill him as he ran away. I am deeply troubled by this and am not sure how Tangadorin would wish me to respond. I can’t very well attack her as she is a friend and companion, nor do I feel I can refuse to heal her if she is in mortal danger. However, I feel that this action was wrong. Do you think a stern talking to would be sufficient response? Your guidance would be appreciated.
We spoke to the four humans who were from a small hamlet called Ironhill, not too far away. We agreed to accompany them home. On the way, one of them told us of a strange habitation nearby. Five stone buildings where two elder gentlemen lived. We were a bit curious, so we decided to check it out. AS I got close to the buildings, my senses told me that the center building reeked of Chaos, and magic. It was very disturbing. I knocked on one of the buildings, but the occupant would not come out. Mazlor knocked on the other building and had more success. The older man agreed to allow us to spend the night, but asked that we not bring fire into the circle of buildings, and to stay away from the center building. The sense of chaos was too troubling for me to remain, so I camped away from the structure. The rest of the party remained. A few hours later I heard an explosion and a blast of light. When I went to investigate, I found Fergus unconscious and fried, along with two sheepish looking magic users. Apparently, they had convinced Fergus to attempt to jimmy the lock on one of the doors of the center building. A metal Demonic face which was the keyhole had bitten clean through his dagger and then hit him with a lightning bolt. He came within an inch of total death. We all decided that it would be a good time to leave.
I am also troubled about this. As a servant of Law and Order, I am naturally opposed to Chaos. However, these old men did not challenge us and were in fact quite reasonable. I felt that I should have done something about this Chaos, but I couldn’t very well go and break down their door and demand answers. That would not be Lawful. How should I have handled this? On further reflection, I wonder if I had announced that I am a servant of Law, and that I require answers as to this Chaos magic, do you think that would have been wise?
We continued on to Ironhill, where Fergus needed to rest for a week to recover. While there, I converted 6 new followers to Tangadorin’s light. Shortly thereafter was when I prayed to Tangadorin to beseech him for my steed. What with the new converts, and the pathway to acceptance in Yew, Tangadorin was very pleased. There was a great deal of awe when the people saw Aethir, my steed. I am sure it will be a story told for many years! We continued on to Pentacurst, which had been abandoned. Girault decided to stay, but allowed one of his men to continue with us to Upland hold to show us the secret entrance. It was a small entrance high up on the cliff of the back of the keep. I scouted it a bit on Aethir, but was not able to gain much information. I also flew over the keep to get an idea of the internal layout. I was surprised to see how similar it was to the keeps surrounding Irecia. There were only a few guards. Nonetheless, we decided that we had enough information for now, and needed to return to civilization.

Your servant,
Grel

Greetings Joffrey and Nidia, I hope that this letter reaches you and that you are doing well.

I am pleased with your choice of direction, trust that Tangadorin will guide you where He wills you to go.

I am very interested in your dream, I have never heard of this being. Perhaps it is one of Tangadorin’s brother Gods? I will meditate and perhaps Tangadorin will reveal the truth to me.

The questions that you ask are ones that I myself have been asking for some time. I have been studying the WORDS OF TANGADORIN much lately, trying to find how I can serve Him better, and what he wants. What I have found is that the darkness has a few connotations. Obviously the All Seeing, All Hearing, All Knowing Tangadorin hates the concealing darkness and those who dwell in it. However, there is more to it than that. The darkness is also secrets and forgotten or hidden knowledge. Our god is one who wants knowledge to be shared and freely given. He abhors lies and concealment. We must strive to be open books, seek out lost or hidden knowledge and share what you learn. He does love sages and scholars and wizards, but he abhors secrets which unfortunately some of them

The worship of Tangadorin is worshipping of enlightenment, for He is the Lightbringer in more ways than one. His true gift is enlightenment, the revelation of knowledge and secrets. Anyone who wishes not to have the truth hidden from them should gladly swell our ranks. We are the seekers of Truth and Knowledge. This is what you must tell people.

I pray to Tangadorin to keep you safe and to guide you in your journey. If you need anything, you have but to ask.

Be safe in His Light,
Your Friend,
Jorann

Despite the weather outside which continues to be frightful, the bards in the Inns and taverns have quite a tale to tell! Crowds have been gathering to hear of an amazing story that has come from beleaguered Duchy of Dawn!

The Duchy’s remaining two cities, Reach and Ancturin, knew that the Orcs would come ravening at their doorsteps, and in the Summer of 58AD, that is exactly what happened. As the remaining armies of the Duchy fled to the harbor city of Reach, the orcs pursued them relentlessly. Faced with the prospect of a long siege against a huge orc invasion, without hope of help, the City Council reached an astonishing decision – evacuate the ENTIRE city!

The population of Reach fled up the road towards Ancturin for nearly thirty days as the remaining armies followed behind to protect them. Couriers were sent to Ancturin to warn of them of what was coming. Every available ship was sent to the Bay of Ancturin, as those who would want to flee the Duchy would take the sea merchant’s route down the coast to the Duchy of Pisces and safety. A small force was left in Reach to serve as a rear guard and keep the Orcs delayed.

The plan worked! The small human contingent managed to keep the Orcs off-balance with bravery and luck, while the remainder of the forces and population made it to the Bay of Ancturin. Faced with a similar decision, the leaders of Ancturin, which is one of the original cities of humanity, made a similar decision. Evacuate! There were enough ships to hold the vast majority of both populations. Every available sea-worth vessel was used, from large merchant carrocks, to military ships, to small fishing vessels. The armies of Reach, Ancturin and the Ducal forces set up to fight to the last man to allow the common folks to escape.

The first ships have made it safely to Amfrey’s Point with this news (which came by way of merchant ships from that harbor town to Orleans and then through the Southron Duchy to Enonia.) so none know yet if all of the populations were evacuated… and who survived of the brave armies that faced to Bestial hordes.

The story is so popular that several songs have been sung over and over about it, but there is more news from closer to home…

• The village of Penkurth has fallen, with the remaining survivors making their way to Yew. A large force of the Black Brotherhood raided the village and managed to destroy or drive out the defenders. Priest Girout, the leader of the village, survived the attack, but was wounded. Astonishingly, some of the survivors claim that Marshal Roehm’s daughter, Anastasia, was seen with the raiders!

• Sir Reynald has been injured! As part of the feasting days during Winter, he and his company were performing a winter’s joust, and he was severely injured in a fall from his horse. Sir Reynald will recover and should be back in the saddle by Spring time.

• In a surprise announcement and visit, Marshal Roehm has visited Yew with wonderful news – Sir Yinivax has been exalted to the highest rank and honor that the Duke can bestow and made him the Marshal of the lands around Yew! Marshal Ynivax will need to free Notchland Keep from the orcs in order to assume the traditional seat of the Marshal of Yew, but in the meantime, he continues to oversee the rebuilding of Yew and protection of its citizens.

It began on a cold winter’s evening:
He was the crudest elf around,
and she was the most beautiful witch.

She was his woman in a bar,
His beautiful woman in a bar,
His witch and he was Her Pig.

They danced so well together,
At first…
He wanted to drink together, around the world,
He wanted it all.

But then, in a flash, one big mistake
After drinking too much, together
A mispoken phrase, a careless brush of a hand.
It was wicked, so wicked.

What made him so foolish, none will know!
And then it happened:
Oh no! Oh no!

She a witch.
Alas, a witch!
His woman in a bar a witch.
It was dangerous, so dangerous.

The next day he knew his nose was different
He saw that he now had a tail,
His words, mere oinks to her laughter!

But still, she is in his thoughts.
Despite how it all changed that evening,
That cold winter’s evening.

And although his brave friends did save him…
He still pines for that lovely hair and one more dance,
When he thinks of that beautiful witch,
That beautiful witch and the pig of an elf!

The Inns and taverns were full of celebrations, while town squares and city parks hosted feasts and games in celebration of the Harvest Feast day on 45 Fall. In Yew, the day was especially celebratory, despite the devastation from the Orc occupation. Thanks to Mazlor of the Light and the Heroes of the Duchy, almost a thousand gold crowns were donated for both the celebration and to assist the refugees and freed slaves. The Heroes had gone north in search of Marshal Roehm’s daughter and had freed fifty humans still held by the Bestials in captivity. They found a great treasure during this adventure and generously shared from it to help those in need. Praises are still being sung of the Heroes and of the priest of the Light, who cured a man of blindness, fed slaves from prayer and miracles and helped the Heroes as they bravely fought back dozens of orcs and goblyns.

Winter has come to the Midlands of the Duchy and as the farms and towns settle down for the cold, the Marshal has returned to Enonia. He has left his trusted commander, Sir Ynivax, in Yew to continue to oversee recovery as well as fortify the town and surrounding villages for a possible counterattack in the Spring. Sir Reynald has been sent to Draycott and the lands just south, to oversee the investigation of recent Bestial raids on mines and towns to the south.

There is sadness among some in Enonia. The tavern keeper of the Eagle’s Alehouse – Avael Guntin – died from a strange accident. It appears that she died after the Harvest Feast celebrations when beer barrels fell over on her in the cellar of the tavern. As Avael was not married, the tavern has been closed. After an investigation by the Merchant’s Guild and Enonian constable, it has been ruled that the death was an accident.

With the Harvest season nearly over, the inns are full of weary farmers and workers preparing for Winter. The harvests continue to look bountiful which bodes well for the Duchy of Irecia and the Kingdom in general. Marshall Roehm continues to restore order to the lands around Yew recently won back from the Bestials. Merchants are starting to reopen in Yew in small numbers, as are some refugees returning home.

The search for Roehm’s daughter, Anastasia Roehm, has come up short – no body found and no sign of her among the wounded, and only possible sightings of her being taken by the Black Riders during battle. The Marshall is said to be in great anguish over this.

The news from the village of Draycott is more hopeful. The Heroes of the Duchy, having found the path that the strange trolls have used to raid Lord Winright’s mine, not only defeated a small group of trolls, but also rescued elves who had been enslaved by the Bestials! The Heroes have taken the freed elves to unknown locations, but rumors have it that two have been seen with the pagan priestess Jorann in Enonia! Rumors abound that the Heroes found the last battlefields of Marshall Ormin and his army, as well having sighted the now-occupied Castle of Chorlton!

The “Winter’s Edge” celebration at the Chapel of Light has begun, with pilgrims all over the Midlands journeying to the Chapel to pray at the crystals made during the year. As always, the many crystals made in the Chapel are available to Pilgrims to take with them as talismans and decorations to use in their homes to remind them of the Light.

Somber songs and stories are being told of events down south in the Duchies of Southron and Pisces. No news has come directly from the Piscean lands, since the Orcs captured the vital land bridge between the Duchy and the rest of the Kingdom. Some merchant ships which have sailed to other ports have brought news that the Piscean armies are massing for a counterattack. Good news also may be coming from the Southron Duchy that they will also be attacking the Orcs holding the pass.

It is early Fall 58 AD and I receive notice that there is a package for me at the Merchants Guild Hall. Going there I find a sealed box waiting for me, intrigued I take it home and carefully open it. Inside is a scroll using magic script. Well nothing ventured, nothing gained…. Reading the scroll I find it is a letter written some time earlier in the summer, the date is our true date, no 58 AD here.

Reading through the letter it seems news of my adventures with the group has reached a secret society of Mages, such that they invited me to join them. They call themselves the Keepers of the Flame of Knowledge. They fought against Chaos and the Dark Magicks during the Shriving, based upon what they have heard they believe I have promising abilities and am on the right side! How could I not take them up on the offer?

A little over a week later, after we return from Truebrugh I receive a visitor, “Joseph”. A short, busy sort of character, constantly moving and shuffling. Letting him into my room I am a little taka aback when he starts to inspect everything and then asks to cast some spells….. Acquiescing, I see hime take two small beads of a wax of some sort, he puts one on the window and one on the door. The spells he casts makes it sound like he and I are having just a normal, mundane conversation… interesting.

We sit down and he tells me about the the Keepers. They are the remnants of the Guilds who went into hiding and continued to fight Chaos the best they could, sharing knowledge and looking after each other. Those who follow Chaos are called Viridi Viola, Joseph called them Vivis, I think that does not conjure up the fear that I believe one should have when dealing with them. How could I not agree to join them, he seems happy with that and tells me to visit him daily throughout WInter at Parabellum’s shop and he will teach me, he thinks he can learn from me too!

There is much to look forward to, but this may limit the amount of adventuring I can do if I have to be close to the shop for daily visits. Still, this may be a small price to pay for the skills I will learn.

My Lord Marshall Victor Roehm,

Greetings and may this letter find you in good health. Let me first congratulate you on your victory at Yew. I know the price was high, but I feel the tide is turning at last, and humans are beginning to push back the darkness in their lands. I’m writing to tell you news of the so-proclaimed “Heroes of the Barony” – Mazlor, Grel, Børæn, Pyria, Fergus, Balto, Ceresei and myself – and our actions in and near the village of Truebrugh.

We arrived in Truebrugh on the 16th of Fall, and no sooner than we had dropped anchor we were met by the village leader, Lord Alden Wagner, no doubt responding to the commotion our arrival had started with the townsfolk. He gave us a grave report – around 100 of the afflicted creatures known as the Damned were outside the village in a tightly-grouped, but unmoving force, and 10 of his own villagers lie either dead or Damned themselves between the town and that large force. Grel and Mazlor had claimed that the Damned might be inflicted with a disease that could be cured, so we made a plan to ride out on horseback and catch one of the 10 in one of my old fishing nets. We managed to haul one back to town, where Mazlor had prepared an area to work a ritual of the Light. I don’t know what magic he did, but It worked – the Damned girl we’d brought back was fully restored and healthy as a bull shark, amazing! We repeated the process, one at a time and sometimes with the help of magic or brute strength to hold the Damned in place, and although some were either already dead or didn’t survive the process, we did save a few more.

A rider had been spotted before we’d gotten there by someone in town, so we decided to ride around the large group of Damned to have a look. We found a large group of tracks the Damned had made, and camped nearby to see if the rider would return. It was soon after that when we hooked our biggest fish yet, one of the Black Brotherhood! Thanks to Ceresei’s quick thinking, we soon had her held under a number of spells and I brought her off her horse with my lasso. This was a lower-rank member of the Brotherhood, and of course she wasn’t quick to talk with us, but an enchantment by Pyria soon loosened her tongue. She told us the location and numbers of the Black Brotherhood crew nearby, and she let slip that the Damned had been controlled by one of their leaders – with the use of some powerful skull artifact perched atop a staff, he or she had been able to make them march on command! The Brotherhood force numbered around 35, including a spellcasting priest and a champion swordswoman, and I thought we’d have no way to beat them, but some of the others wisely asked Lord Wagner if he could put together some of the villagers into a militia, and soon he’d assembled 3 units – including an archery unit – and we were off to battle.

As we approached, we successfully dispatched with one of their sentries which gave us a chance to catch them by surprise. I still wasn’t sure of the odds of success, so I tied on the headband of a fallen friend of mine, to honor him if things went badly. Fortunately, we were able to catch them away from their horses, and had a large wolf at hand to bravely run in and panic the steeds. As a battle commander, you have no need for me to tell you what a big advantage it is to engage cavalry off their mounts! After a few volleys from our arrows, the Brotherhood crew was either dead or in full flight away from us. All except their champion that is, who chose to challenge Børæn to a duel, a decision that proved to be unwise. I believe the Black Brotherhood may have abandoned this ship and most likely will not soon return to the area around Truebrugh, although the Damned still lie silently outside the village. We still hold the Brotherhood woman captive.

I hope that you can make use of this news. If you have powerful clerics under your command I believe the knowledge that the Damned can be cured will be most helpful! Also, be warned that we don’t know the whereabouts of that skull, and the enemy may still have the ability to command the Damned to do their bidding. If you have any news for us about the current situation, or any instructions on how we might best help, please send a messenger back to me at the Hound and Nixie Inn located in Old Fawn.

Your ally in dire times,
-Belàldur

Hail Enonians!

The town is in a state of giddy celebration as word has come – the Marshall was victorious and has retaken Yew from the combined forces of the Black Brotherhood and the Orcs! A last minute desperate attack saw the Marshall’s knights drive the fearsome Orcs away from the town. With half of their forces lost, and both their camp and the town taken, the Orcs have retreated in disarray towards Notchland Keep, and some forces headed to Upland Hold

The butcher’s bill was high, with a third of the Marshall’s forces lost. It is said that one of his twin daughters, a knight-in-training, is missing as well.

It is a time of great celebration in the Duchy! This year has already seen two major victories against the Orcs and everyone feels hope, even in the face of the grim news from elsewhere of Orcs advancing.

Grel: Priestess, I am deeply troubled. Would you sit with me and hear my tale?

Jorann: Of course my child. Please tell me what happened.

Grel: It was the 9th day of fall, Boraen, Balto, Beladur and Fergus were discussing some intel that they had gained about some legionnaires who had gone off to fight some monsters and never came back. It seemed a fine idea to go off to find where they fell and lay claim to their weapons. The fact that there was some beast which had dispatched an unknown number of Legionnaires was troubling, but we decided that we were up for it.

So off we went, Boraen, Balto, Beladur and Fergus, Ostlen, myself, Vilhelm, Josef and a thoroughly distasteful and cowardly tracker named Golub. We set off to hunt down these rumors and see what we could find.

I was getting an annoying feel of chaos from Boraen, and when I asked him what it was, he pulled out a crystal shard of pure chaos! He allowed me to destroy it, but I was unable! It was too powerful. I covered it with holy water, but it only pitted the surface slightly. I was more than a little disturbed. Since we were going to Ulichton anyway, I stopped in to see Torak. He seemed to be getting along well. I showed him the crystal and charged him with it’s destruction. He was less than thrilled….He tried blessing it, but again, it was far too strong for him. He reluctantly agreed to continue blessing it, but then I mentioned that Jorann could probably take care of it. He immediately jumped up and started making preparations for his journey. I left him then and met up with my companions.

They had found more rumors and people who remembered the legionnaires going off.
We went off to the woods where they had last been seen. They had gone after a beast that was apparently afraid of fire. Rumor had it, that if you had a fire, it would not attack, but if you didn’t, you would never be seen again. We wisely decided to light a campfire. We heard the beast come near, but it never approached the fire.

In the morning, we continued in the direction it went. We came across a worn deer path. We decided to follow it, and soon came upon eighteen of the Legionnaires themselves marching on the path. Something seemed very off with them, but I wasn’t sure what. Balto shot a sling stone off into the woods, and half of them charged into the woods after it, while the others waited for them. No words were spoken. Again, it seemed very odd, but I wasn’t sure what was wrong.

Then Boraen jumped down from a tree right behind them. Immediately they turned around and charged him. It was only then, that I noticed that they were attacking with their hands and teeth. They never drew a weapon. These Legionnaires were the Damned!!! If only I had realized sooner, perhaps there was a way that they could have been cured. But with them attacking Boraen, I had no choice but to defend him.

I called out to Balto, to entangle as many as possible. He did, and half of them were stuck in place. We were able to dispatch them, but I can’t help feeling that if only I had realized sooner, they could have been saved.

Priestess, it is not that I feel that my actions were wrong, but that an opportunity to save eighteen powerful fighters for the kingdom has been squandered partly by my lack of insight. What can I do to assuage this guilt?

Jorann: Grel my son, you can’t take the blame for everything that you don’t know. We are but mortals. We can only do the best that we can. I feel sure that if Tangadorin had meant for you to rescue these Legionnaires, he would have given you better insight. You can’t blanme yourself for what could have been. There are an infinite number of them. We can only do our best, and hope it is enough.

We left town on the 45th day of summer. We had some heated discussions on which direction we should go to root out these criminals. Boraen had information that his people had been taken both North and South. After talking with the Marshall, it seemed that to the North are the Black Brotherhood. The servants of the Dark Ones who had mocked us outside the Monastery. He informed us that there were probably 12 companies of them, too many for us to deal with.
When talking to Averin, the opposition in Steltin and the hard line of Dame Orden had come up. I recalled how Jorann’s offer to come and help had been repulsed. Could they be the source of the Lightbringers, or just giving aid?
We decided south would be the best plan. We spoke with Raynauld, he did not have any information. We spent some time in the taverns talking to people about happenings. My companions did not get any good information. However, there was one creepy guy who seemed a little too sweet on me for my comfort, however, I held back my revulsion and drank and spoke with him. He had some information! A friend of his had clammed up after talking about a work duty. After another drink, he told me that he lived on a farm a 15 min walk outside of Deltin. Another drink and I learnt his name, Tyalen., and
We continued to Deltin. There we spent the night decided to head over to the farm the next day. Tangadorin was with us! We were observing the farm, hoping to learn something when a rider rode up, went inside and shortly after, rode off.
I knew immediately that this was the organizer who we needed to question! The party split up. I rode after Boraen, with Mazlor, Itsy and Beladur at my side. Sally stayed behind with Balto, Fergus, Pyria and the two farm hands.
We chased him for two hours without gaining any ground. The sun was beginning to set, there was only one hour of light left! I called upon Tangadorin to guide my hand and slowed my steed to take a couple shots at his horse. I had to stop or slow that horse so that we could catch him! He had the answers we needed! Tangadorin was with me, for both shots hit. My first shot did little damage, but clearly Tangadorin touched the second arrow, for it went completely through the horse! The rider tumbled off the dead horse, and I knew he was ours!
Boraen lept off his horse to grapple the man. Beladur wanted to throw his net, but there was no need. Boraen had the man pinned in no time. Boraen questioned the man. It was hard to watch, but the Marshall had told him that he could do as he must, just to bring him back alive and able to answer questions, so I reminded myself of his crimes and held my piece.
He admitted to having taken Turgin and gave Boraen directions. He had some magical leather armor, which I felt would be good for the elf, he seemed to like it. We returned to the farmhouse with our prisoner. There we found our companions had captured 8 of the villains! A good day indeed!
We took them all to the Marshall’s keep and handed them over for trial. The marshall questioned them and found them guilty. The most troubling thing was that the head villain, Keanax, claimed that his orders came straight from the high holy and the flames.
I sincerely hope that this is not true, as it would be very bad for us.
The next day we followed Boraen to rescue Turgin. We found the farm where he was being held and planned an assault. Things did not go quite as planned. Balto backstabbed one guard and killed him, but Beladur failed to go unnoticed and engaged the second guard. He called for help, and two men came from each house, plus a swordswoman who charged Boraen. Mazlor held her and the men surrendered. We took them all back to the Marhall for trial!

I do not know if we have cleared the area of the Lightbringers, but we should have at least given them a pause. Hopefully, the Marshall will get information from them and make an example of them!

It was the 34th day of summer, the Marshall had put Capt. Pellin and his 100 cavalry men under our command to rescue Sir Yinnivax. He had stressed to us that he needed those men free, but Sir Yinnivax’s rescue was paramount, he was need for the Duke plans.

So we set out to rescue sir Yinnivax, the company consisted of myself, Boraen, Ragar, Beladur, Pyria, Balto, Fergus and Ostlen. We had racked our brains trying to plan the rescue. The best we could come up with was a full assault using fire to divert them.

While traveling the scouts encountered a couple dire wolves, but they dealt with them without too much damage. Ragar and a couple scouts were hurt. One of the scouts, by the name of Narvy, was badly hurt I used the healing touch of Tangadorin upon him and he was mightily impressed! I spent a good bit of my traveling time telling him of the wonders of Tangadorin. He has since become a true believer and has promised to come to hear our services soon.

We reached the city without much other trouble. The three rouges Balto, Beladur and Ostlen chose to sneak up to the city so that Balto could get in and explain the plan to Sir Yinnivax and deliver the healing potions to allow the wounded to be mobile.

Beladur ended up distracting the orcs while Ostlen and Balto scaled the wall. The, while he engaged them the archers on the wall distracted them, allowing beladur to kill one and run the other off. He then joined his fellows in the keep, where they told Sir Yinnivax our plan.

At Midnight we began our assault! One company of calvalry charged down the path, Two companies attacked towards the orc commander. My fellows and I started it off by throwing fire off to the side of the road and the archers in the keep started another near the commander.

The battle went even better than we could have hoped! My friends and I killed 10 of the Orc cavalry that were charging the cavalry headed down the middle, they broke and ran!
The archers killed 10 orc infantry and they ran too!

The orc archers killed a unit of our cavalry coming down the center and broke them.

We retaliated by killing some archers and the other cavalry unit both fled!! Within a few minutes the field was ours as the Orc commander ran off the field calling for reinforcements.

We mounted Yinnivax’s men and charged off the field victorious!!

We decided that we were too large a force to go unnoticed, so we had Capt. Pellin give Yinnivax’s men the mounts and have them flee back to the fort while we headed to the villa. We were sure that they would follow us.

We saw no sign of them, and when we reached the villa it became apparent that the orcs had gone after Yinnivax instead. My Friends and I headed back to Enonia to make sure that he had made it safe. All was well, Yinnivax was pursued, but made it safe!

Børæn walks into the inn, and at his side walks Talvi.

The first thing everyone notices is that both man and wolf have a red hand print on their faces. The second thing they notice is that both wolf and man seem to mirror each other’s mood. They are angry. The two look like the dark clouds of summer that fill the sky before it opens and the lightning strikes the land.

Sitting, he speaks in a low harsh voice.

Evil has befallen Turgon and the shrine of Me’sha. My travels there had me find no one. In fact, you do not find anyone; even the Little Ones (goblyns) are gone.

What did I find? The signs of battle. Blood splashed on the ground. Some human, some not, most likely the blood of the Little Ones. Furthermore one of the buildings has the signs of an attempted burning, but that doesn’t appear to have fully happened – either the fire did not fully start or it was put out.

I was, and still am, angry.

Very. Angry.

When I entered Me’sha’s shrine I sat and mediated. I was then struck by a vision. I still see it in my eyes.

I opened them and saw a lovely woman standing there. There were flowers in her hair, a riotous collage of colors and shapes. She looked at me, but was distracted.

“I’ve already accepted you, why do you need proof? Does not the spring turn to summer? Will it not happen? Do you need the sun to come thump you on the head to personally let you know that it’s happening? You interest me, but this pedantic droning of do this, I need that… enough!” she snaps. “My people are spread out, some taken, some killed. And you want something? Save my people. You’ll have your purpose. Go save my people to the north and to the south. Find the riders in black and the riders in gold. THEY need to pay for what they’ve done!” Suddenly the temperature drops and frost is all around you, chilling you to the bone. Her hands are covered in ice, clenched in fists and her eyes shine with the cold of winter.

And then… she was gone, and quick as a spring rain. Time returned to me, and Talvi was at my side, and within her eyes I saw my vengeance reflected.

Leaving the shrine, Talvi and I begun our search. We found no bodies. Only the remains of battle. From what I could tell, there were probably a few deaths, but I am not a tracker.

We did find two separate sets of tracks and marks of battle. The ones from the south came in on horse and foot. The ones from the north came on horseback. It was hard to tell who came first, or at what time, or if separately.

The more we searched, we found other things. First Ja’Kar’s glaive still stood but the flowers and vines are withered. But the glaive remains and is untouched.

Talvi, much to her amusement confined the two trails I “found,” but she found a third leading east into the Dark Woods. The trail was that of goblyn.

I unslung my two axes, and whispered to Talvi it was time to hunt. We have hunted all of our life, and I let her lead, following some paces behind. I hoped for a battle, and bringing the bracelet of Ja’Kar to my mouth I kissed and whispered: “Use me as the weapon of your fury Me’sha, and let me vent your rage upon your enemies.”

Ten. Fifteen minutes pass as we hunted. Talvi sometimes in the lead, sometimes I am in the lead, but the trail leads directly east.

Talvi suddenly stopped. Then she did something rare, and something she has never done in a hunt, she whined! Laying down she was alert, but respectful?

I left Talvi and approached the area and saw something I still do not believe.

The Little Ones were here, and were tending… a garden. Roughly a fifty foot diameter circle, the vines from the glaive, were here and wild flowers grew about..

One of the Little Ones clearly showed has if he was badly wounded, and their numbers were smaller.

Entering, I simply spoke: “Hello Little Ones it is I Børæn. I have returned to a disturbing scene. What has happened to our friends? Me’sha has given me a terrible vision. You know me and Talvi can we come to you and offer you aid? Could you tell me what happened?”

At first, they kept to their gardening. It was then that I noticed bandages on their heads, over their eyes. And yet, they moved about, tending very carefully to the plants and small bushes. A couple of them appeared to simply be sitting in front of a flower, perhaps meditating. Their movements seemed very deliberate, precise, worshipful.

If that was not strange enough, the Little Ones looked as if they were dancing while they carried out their work. Every plant they touched, and then seemed to grow. Truly the goddess works through them.

It was then, a severely injured one approached me. It isn’t bleeding, but scabs and deep cuts are testament it was a victim of a brutal attack. Though he did not speak, he took my hand and traced the cut from which I took my blood oath. He sniffed it, and then pointed both north and south. No words were spoken, but he pat Talvi on her head, who seemed to suddenly appear, and the Little One then went back to work with the gardeners.

When I went to buy red paint I meet Thjoldoff who I shared a few drinks with. While we played cards I told him about the Lightbringers we have meet, as well as what I had seen at the home of my adopted clan. He then went on to tell me much.

He’s heard more about the so-called “Lightbringers”, the folks in the taverns and inns are very opinionated about them. Some are glad as they were worried about the effects of the “cultists” of the old gods causing problems. They think that perhaps Averin was a bit too friendly/soft, compared to what Phaellym (the former priest who killed himself) used to say. Others think that the Lightbringers don’t act much like the more popular priests of the Light, such as Mazlor “the Mighty”, and they think they act like thugs. Nobody is really sure where they come from and some wonder if the Lightbringers are actually friends and neighbors.

He heard a couple of bards saying that there was news from Yew about the fall of that town. They’d heard them playing in old Fawn, a few days out from Enonia. News that MEN were in league with the Orcs. That they wore black. If they are raiding this far south. It was this part that made his mood grow darker.

I am no Lore Spinner, or Story Teller. This is what I have discovered and learned.

Though I have made the blood oath to free the city, my adopted clan is in danger. My goddess is angry and calls for me to bring her rage. Nothing is more important than this. Nothing. This speaks of a growing evil and darkness, and it is up to not only Talvi and I, but all of us to stand against it.

It is then the man stands and unfurls what can only be described as a banner.

This is banner of my hunt. It will fly as Talvi and I hunt my prey. I will fight, and I hope you do the same.

It was a lucky escape, the Orcs were spread out and the plan to sneak into the Keep with healing potions worked, although it seems Belàldur had some difficulty.

Having made our way to the Keep the plan was to send in the critical healing potions and at least get the men inside to a point that they could act as a unit and move out. At the appointed time the rest of us moved forward, Pellin and some of the cavalry came from the NW, another group of cavalry with extra horses came down the road in order to clear an escape path. We set about starting a fire to the East of the road, hoping to prevent any rush of Orcs from that direction. As we lit the fires, archers from the Keep started a blaze NW of the Keep, providing some cover for the escape.

This could have been a bloody battle, but the Orc Chieftain and Ogre were caught in the open, Pellin and his cavalry charged at them. As Ynivax and his men left the keep his archers stayed behind and routed a group of cavalry coming from the East. A battle ensued by the road but we prevailed, the archers routing another group. Unfortunately our cavalry clearing the path left the battlefield in flight. The Orc Chieftain attempted to rally some troops to fend off Pellin and his cavalry but to no avail, soon his troops were gone and he decided discretion was the better part of valor.

With Orcs gone we took Ynivax and his men to the villa where they could be fed and given aid. Once rested they headed for the Fort, our rearguard warned us of the Orcs that were following us. We hoped to decoy them, but they did not take the bait and instead went after Ynivax and his men. Fortunately they reached the safety of the Fort before the Orcs reached them.

By all measure this was a success, even a resounding one, but I cannot help feeling that we are pushing against the tide. There is so much to be done and we cannot possibly do it all.

Another arrow buried itself in the dead tree beside the others with a thunk. Streaks of sweat running down either side of his face, Belàldur watched the arrow strike from his standpoint sixty yards away. With a look of dissatisfaction, the green-eyed elf reached back over his shoulder to grab another arrow. Behind him, the fool human was still prattling on about Tangadorin. Belàldur made no effort to stop him; he considered the soldier’s proselytizing to be a good source of motivation to reach his training goals quickly.

Nock.
Draw.
Release.

Another arrow sped towards the tree. As it struck home, something the man said caught Belàldur’s attention, and he turned to speak. He knew that he shouldn’t, going against the zeal of the newly converted was like sailing against the wind, but he couldn’t resist. “You think it was the Will of Tangadorin that got the job done today?” he asked in a quiet but firm tone, looking the man square in the eye, “I’ll tell you what won the day out there: Flames and fear.”

“Think of the orcs’ perspective. They were spread out, surrounding the keep, thinking all they had to do was to wait for Ynivax and his forces to die or break, starve them out. And they were nearly at that point. Then, the flames start up, coming out of the ground at seemingly random places. Started by my companions, who had snuck out on the field, and from the archers in the Keep, who fortunately had plenty of oil to make fire-tipped arrows. Then, arrow attacks start coming from different directions, followed by an attack from the forces suddenly coming out of the Keep, and then, as the final wave against the bow, a massed cavalry charge straight into the forces protecting the orcs’ commander. It’s no wonder they broke.”

“Like most of the battles I’ve seen, the side that runs first dies. It was ugly, but we got the job done. Some of our forces ran too in the chaos, but most held firm, and we got them out. No magic, no miracles, no hero’s tales, just the right circumstances and a bit of luck.”

“The mission to get the folks in the fort ready to escape hadn’t exactly gone according to plan either, but it worked. The three of us were supposed to sneak in and get Ynivax’ men some healing potions and brief them on our plan. The enemy was spread thin, but I spent most of the way to the keep worried that the orcs would hear the human’s loud breathing. I was so distracted that when we were getting up to the keep, I fell right to the ground. The things in my pack made so much clatter the dullest orc alive would’ve noticed it.”

“Then, to dive deeper into the piranha, I tried to put some arrows into the oncoming orcs, and only managed to drive my newly-purchased bow into the dirt. I’m still paying for that one.” Belàldur winced, the pain in his side surging with the memory of the wound there. Turning back to the tree, he fired off a quick arrow at it, then faced the soldier again to continue: “Luckily, the archers in the keep were on watch, and when my two friends got over the wall and let them know what was going on, their fire arrows spooked off the orcs. I made one of them pay when it panicked. As I said, the first side to run dies.”

“All in all, not pretty in the least, but we did get it done.” Facing the tree, he raised the six foot long elm bow once again towards the target. The soldier started up again about Tangadorin. Apparently, all it took was a little healing magic and a few words to convert some humans into devoted lunatics.

Nock.
Draw.
Release.

Thunk.

Satisfied, Belàldur put down his bow and arrows and turned about, looking for a good place to sit. Once comfortable, he thrust his hand into his pouch and pulled out a pipe and some leaf. He lit it, took a few puffs, and let out a long, slow exhaled cloud. He held the pipe out to the soldier, offering it to him. “Here, have some of this, you can relax and think on your new beliefs. And no matter what you believe, remember this: When you’re in stormy seas, always keep your wits about you.”

It is a cold winter’s day.

Winds howl.

Snow swarms any walking in the storm. The village has shut themselves in to protect themselves from the storm. Those who do go out, do so if they have too.

The sun has not been seen for days. The storm clouds have eaten it, and as the clouds eat their meal, the storm rages. It is the time of Talvi Paksu (Winter’s Deep). For three months, far to the north, the sun dips so low that the land is shadowed by perpetual night.

Myrskyjen Pimeys.

Storms of Darkness.

Once it was thought Tapio created this time to mock and harm his people. After all, Tapio is a capricious god, and when he deems it is time to recognize his worshipers, he does so by taunting them.

Yet, here in the village that is not the case. This time of the year is seen as Odotus (The Waiting). Since Børæn returned to his home, and took his rightful place, many things changed. The most notable one is the worship of the goddess Mesha. Many looked skeptical at Børæn’ belief, but with patience, the Wolf Tribe slowly begun to see that Mesha was more closer to the way of the northern tribes, and now the Wolf Tribe venerates here.

The lodge is quiet.

Gone are the rowdy feasts.

The endless drinking.

The continuous boast of deeds great and small. It is the morning, and the lodge is devoted to its’ other role; learning.

The children of the tribe, sit and learn. Besides the Mesha, Børæn brought with him teachers. With them, a goal of teaching his people so they could have a more secure future.

A old man sits by a small fire. He is hunched over, and his body shows the signs of many battles. Sitting in front of him are the youngest of the tribe.

The old man is happy. This is his favorite task; teaching the children.

His voice is strong, despite his weak appearance. It is a voice capturing everyones attention. Everyone stops their tasks, turn, and listen to the man. He speaks:

Many are the tales of Børæn and the deeds he accomplished. There are many tales and lessons to learn, but this tale is a simple one.

See Børæn riding with great speed to the village.

Børæn is angry. His anger builds as he gets closer to Enonia.

His anger is one of helplessness.

The events at Irecia have angered him. The men trapped by the foul Vihreä-iho (Greenskins or Orcs) fuels this anger.

He wanted to save those men.

Wet his sword in the blood of the Vihreä-iho.

He wanted nothing more then send them to Tulipalot Helvetti.

Yet here he is, riding in failure.

Though Belàldur tried to calm Børæn, Børæn still raced off.

In truth, this anger was not about failure, it was about the fact they could do nothing for the warriors trapped there.

Arriving in Enonia, see Børæn stalk to the tavern he and his companions frequent. All who see the warrior, know a storm has arrived. They run from his wake.

See his knuckles grow white as he clenches his mighty fists.

Hear his footsteps roll as thunder across the tundra.

See the door burst into fragments as Børæn’s storm breaks.

The storm has arrived.

It is obvious to all he is angry.

The storm has come.

As it makes its’ way to the back of the tavern, no one stands in his way.

The storm hits the companions, and his fist pounds the table. It is like lightning, and the table splinters into shrapnel.

See one try to speak, but his words are swallowed as the gaze of Børæn’s anger touches him.

Hear Børæn speak, and hear the strength of his words fill the air.

“Cowards. Drunks. You lack honor.”

“You knew we were to ride to Irecia. Some of us did, while the rest of you still celebrate a victory that is now over. You are like all lazy people here in the south. You are soft, weak, and live in ignorant bliss ignoring the danger that blights this land.”

“Do you care that Irecia is nearly gone? Do you care that those warriors are near death? Why you sit here, drinking and laughing; while those warriors eat leather, eat dirt, and still do their duty.”

“Cowards.”

“Your greed speaks of you. Your greed shows you for what you are.”

“Grab your weapons, find your spines, and remove your asses from this tavern. Because if you do not remove them, I will remove them for you.”

Though they try to speak, one look at Børæn shows that he is not to be tested.

“We have three days to rescue the men at Irecia. You have ten minuets to be outside. We ride as soon as Hemming gathers the men.”

See Børæn turn and leave the tavern, but before doing so, gives the tavern keeper some coins.

Hear Børæn speak with shame, “I am sorry for the damage, sometimes I get a bit angry.”

Hear the tavern keeper stammer, “If that was a bit angry, I do not want to see you really angry.”

See Børæn look over his shoulder. Hear him say to the tavern keeper, “If that sorry lot do not move their asses, you will see my true anger.”

With that, see Børæn leaves the tavern.

He is too ride again.

He and Winter’s Bite will resume the hunt.

Tooth and Sword.

Claws and Axe.

Vihreä-iho blood will flow as a spring river fat with the flow of melting ice.

The two will kill many before they return to Enonia again.

Dearest Ursana,

I have arrived, safe and sound, to a town called “Enonia”, at the Eastern Borders.

My trip was not without incident, though.
The caravan I was traveling with at one point was overwhelmed by bandits and a few of us surrendered. The others were eventually killed anyway, for ‘sport’. But the bandits were intrigued by my lockpick set and other similar items. These men were primarily rough thugs, with no assests to speak of, beyond their swords and clubs – completely lacking in any form of subtlety or cleverness. I convinced them that I would like to join their gang and could contribute by teaching them the more artistic elements of thievery. They kept me under very close watch, but let me live under those terms. Eventually, during a rowdy celebration where many of them were deeply inebriated, I managed to slip away unnoticed. I even liberated my own belongings. And a modest ‘Tutelage Fee’.

I have found others here who are of a like mind in trying to improve the world, not simply miring oneself in petty personal concerns.
I even have spent a little time at the Temple of the Light – that religion that always talks about enlightenment and improving mankind’s lot in life. Sadly, I won’t be officially joining them. Though I hear other factions and temples are more so, I still found them a bit too hung up on rules and details for my tastes. But they mean well and many are kind folk. One of them has recently loaned me an enchanted item that he said he believes will help me more than him. Can you imagine? We have never met or even heard of each other until a few months ago, and after a few conversations he trusted me enough to let me use it. Of course, he said it was a temporary arrangement and that he would have some longer acquaintances of his make sure I kept it and used it for good (more about that in a moment). But I believe he is not fool enough to think I couldn’t slip away with it, if I was of a mind to.

Since I settled in here, I have received a few invitations to join ‘adventuring parties’ and venture forth into unknown or dangerous territory. Already I have seen some amazing sights and been of some minor assistance.
On one, we were set upon by spiders. The size of PONIES. One of whom TALKED as well as you or I. They tried to wall us in with giant webs, but we slew them. We found some town soldiers who had been paralyzed and stored like flies and brought them back home, where nearly all of them recovered.
On another, we defeated some goblyns and falcon-sized wasps. And we located a long-lost hollow from which one of the Olden Gods, Meisha, still communicates.

I have hopes to make greater contributions soon, though. An old religious site was wrested from demonic creatures that had claimed it, and some of the religious folk may be occupied with matters related to that. I have heard talk of expeditions to the Fallen City of Irecia being mounted and hope to be included.
Perhaps the most exciting news, I’ve saved for last. I was right about great-Grandmother Salome’s things! They aren’t simple junk, or mere books of gypsy tales and curses. Not all of it anyway. The items, I still have no understanding of. Maybe they are just trinkets. But the books – some of them are actually starting to make sense. I think there’s real power there and a genuine reason she was so revered as “Salome the All-Seeing”. I believe I’m on the verge on being able to duplicate some of the less intricate tricks and am eager to give it a try.

Give my love to our parents
I don’t know when the next letter might arrive, but I miss you. Be well!

Ostlen

Belàldur waited silently in the shadows as Børæn performed his strange ritual with his knife. By this point, the elf was well accustomed to bizarre human behavior, but this tendency for humans to cut themselves open offended him on a practical level. In his experience, bloody hands only attracted sharks.

He had volunteered to help Børæn deliver Ja’Kar’s body here to the village – not that Børæn needed the help, the giant of a man seemed to hoist and carry the corpse as effortlessly as Belàldur wore his cloak. But Belàldur knew the way, and besides, he owed at least this much to the fallen monk.

As Børæn ended his formal address and began to talk freely with the others, Belàldur stepped out of the corner of the tent – he had instinctively gone to the place where he was least likely to be seen or noticed upon arrival – and made his way towards an old man with tears still in his eyes, with a group of grieving goblyns nearby. “Greetings, I’m Belàldur,” he said with a slight bow, “I see the news of Ja’Kar’s passing has hit you hard. I would tell you of the events that led to his death, and the good that has been done for the world thanks to his sacrifice.”

“I’m sure you know of the old abandoned monastery that had become the home of chaos and evil. Perhaps you’ve heard some of the tales of the horrors that were within, and the many humans, elves and others that had died in there, or worse. If not, count yourself lucky, and I’ll not tell any of those now, you’ll sleep better. Enough to say that the corruption of that place was spreading, and the only hope we had of ending it was to dive deep into that river of piranha.”

“There were seven of us – Ja’Kar, Mazlor and two of his followers, Jorann, Pyria and me. We went deeper into that demon pit than ever before, and came to a room with rows of thick columns. Not wanting to be surprised by creatures hiding behind them, Ja’Kar and I decided to scout ahead… he took the right wall, I the left. Unfortunately, there were two things we didn’t know: first, this room was somehow enchanted so that at any moment you could wink out of existence and appear instantly in a completely new spot. Second, there were horrific floating creatures guarding the way, ones that we’d seen before. Like small flying ships with metal undersides, that could project deadly beams at their enemies.”

“Their metal hulls were too strong for weapons to penetrate, so out of desperation I leaped up to grab one by its stalks and pull it to the ground. So there I was, on top of this thing holding onto it with the help of Pyria as we tried to stab its fleshy top, when it happened – I suddenly found myself kneeling over the lifeless body of Ja’Kar. He had sacrificed himself by facing one of those damnable things alone, giving us time to grapple with the others. Thanks to his last act, we were able to survive and destroy those floaters, although some of us were seriously injured.”

“Then the next wave hit the shore – something again appeared out of thin air in this room that we were sure was another agent of chaos that we’d have to fight to the death. It turned out to be that large fellow over there quaffing drink that you’ve already met – Børæn – and fortunately for us, he has a good heart beneath all that bulk. He helped us get to the one place down there that was clear of corruption, and the “holy men” of the group worked their healing magic on the injured. We spent the day resting there, then set sail again into the depths.”

“Soon the magic of the clerics was needed again, to defend us from twisted wizards that had the ability to control minds. Pyria’s sorcery was also key, she was able to vanish a moving wall of magical force that threatened to squash us flat. And Børæn, despite his youth, proved his worth as a warrior.”
“As we approached the eye of the storm, I opened a door and my mind was hit by an evil force that tried to take control,” Belàldur grins, “but my natural stubbornness won out and I told it to take a giant leap off a short pier. Inside the room, there was the rogue apprentice wizard we’d been looking for, and a creature that had to be a full-blown demon of the Chaos dimension, right in the middle of a giant portal.”

“The wizard cast an illusion that made him seem to be in four places at once, and I fired arrow after arrow in anger as my comrades charged in. But soon, I heard the eerie sound of one of those floating creatures coming up behind us! I slammed the door shut, holding it closed as best as I could while yelling at the others to hurry, hurry! The door exploded and I was knocked backwards to the ground…”

“I’ll leave it to others to describe what happened next, because I was on my back looking up at the ceiling, but the next thing I knew the demon’s voice was rumbling in my ears, giving a warning that this was not the end of its attempts. The flying creature fell to the ground with a crash, and I looked up to see the portal closing. Somehow, we had done it.”

“That alone was not enough to fully cleanse the place, as it turned out. Just when we’d caught our breath, a wizard wearing a red and white striped robe appeared, and told us in order to truly purify the monastery, a life with powerful magic within it had to be sacrificed… his own. He seemed surprised when I asked his name, apparently none had thought to do so before, and he answered, ‘Toorak.’ I thanked Toorak for making the ultimate sacrifice, and wished for the deep waters to welcome him home.”

“The dark corruption of the monastery is gone now, there will be no more reality shifts, no more foul creatures created, or innocents taken to that place to be twisted in the image of chaos. The shadow of that place is gone, though I have no desire to ever return to it. Never again will this land be cursed by the evil of that place, and never again will we see the floating tower that had been Toorak’s home.”

Belàldur reached up to lightly touch the grey leather headband at his forehead. “I wear this to honor Ja’Kar’s memory and his sacrifice. Ja’Kar and Toorak – 2 names I’ll remember of humans that gave their lives for the greater good. I’m sorry for your loss, and if there’s anything I can ever do for you, I’m at your service.”

“Now,” he said with a lighter tone as a smile played on his lips, “where can I get some of that drink, before Børæn finishes it all?”

The old man, shoulders slumped with age, and body criss-crossed with the scars of a life of fighting, slowly enters into the lodge. He leans on his staff, and it taps a steady beat as the iron shod tip, strikes the stone floor.

The feasting has finished.

Tap.

The casks of ale are open.

Tap.

The mead fills many of drinking horns, large clay jugs, and even larger pewter mugs.

Tap.

Bottles of spirits litter some of the tables. They are being drunk by those showing their drinking skills, and ability to drink more than a normal person should.

Tap.

The fire glows as flame turn to embers.

Tap.

All conversation ends, and the old one arrives at the lodge’s center.

Tap.

The sounds of silence deafen. Even the intake of astonished gasps seem eaten by the silence.

The man speaks, and despite his weak exterior the voice is strong, filling the lodge.

“It was this day, many years ago when the world cringed and Chaos rolled across it. Børæn had been gone from the tribe for 7 years. His journeys took him far from the tribe, and his clans. Here is the tale of how he came to honor the dead.”

The man walks, his stride is purposeful. In one hand he holds a staff. The staff looks as if it is twig. On his shoulder he carries a body. It is wrapped in a strange cloth made of a grey leather that shimmers. The burden would slow a weaker man.

Børæn is not a weak man.

See him stride into a small village. The village has three slabs of stone forming a tent. A shrine is under construction. In the middle of this village stands a glaive. Vines sprout from it, and flowers hang weeping. Stranger still there is a circle of goblins sitting in a circle around this glave and weep. Even more, see a old man, sitting close by weeping of his lost.

Now see Børæn, gently lay his burden upon the ground. See him place the staff next to it, as if it was the weapon of a great chieftain.

See Børæn as he stands, gathering himself.

Hear as Børæn speaks.

“I am Børæn, and I have returned to you a hero. I have been told that this man, Ja’Kar, meant much to you.”

See Børæn stand trying to show kindness. This is still before the time of the crowning. The time of when he killed the Orc Chieftain Bloodmaw of the Bloodfang. Before the time of his his destruction of the Clan That Will Not Be Named. Before the time when he leads the Wolf, the Sword and the Axe in the war to destroy the aligned Fang and Snake Tribes. This was before the time of Børæn marrying his queen.

Was this the first step to his march to his destiny?

That would be telling.

See now as Børæn speaks. Hear his words roll across the land as thunder. See the villagers look at the warrior with fear, bewilderment and curiosity. Hear Børæn’s words.

“I did not know him, nor do I know you. All I know, is that his death is a sad one, and it is a death that has hurt you. Though it was a death it was a good death; a death worthy of a hero. It was a death, that made possible my arrival in his friends’ time of need.”

See now, as Børæn pauses. See now, how the crowd gathers looking and listening with growing interest.

“I am a simple man, but I am touched from what I have learned. This man died a hero, and I honor his passing. I take upon my shoulders his work, and I wish to honor his life, by aiding you."

See now as Børæn draws his sword, unsling one of his twin axes,. See how he rises both in out stretched arms. He points to the sky. He looks to the sky.

“I am Børæn of the Wolf Tribe. I am Børæn of the Axe. I am Børæn of the Sword. By my sword and my axe, I pledge to Tapio the god of my people. I will carry on the work of Ja’Kar of the Iron Staff, warrior to Me’Sha. I pledge this to honor the passing of this brave man. Know this, and know this well. I pledge my sword. I pledge my axe. I pledge myself to stand with you, and until my life is snuffed out.”

See now as Børæn drop his weapons.

See now how he draws Lohikäärme Hammas (dragon tooth) from its’ sheath.

This is the dagger of Aapo.

The dagger of Elias.

The dagger of Aku.

The dagger of Jere.

The dagger of Sakarias

The dagger of Valthjof.

This is the dagger that has been passed down from one chieftain’s eldest to the next. This is the dagger Aapo used to unite the Wolf Tribe, and it is this dagger which sealed the bonds of leadership and family, and cemented that his line would lead the Wolf till the sun is snuffed out, and the moon is broken.

See now as Børæn draws Lohikäärme Hammas across his left palm. See now the blood swell, and see now the bloody hand placed on Børæn’s face.

“I pledge this in my blood, and my blood is my bond to you.”

See now as Børæn removes his hand and place it on the death shroud of Ja’Kar.

“I pledge to you, who I did not know in life, that in your death, I honor you. In death, we will meet, and in Tapio’s lodge, we will drink as friends, comrades and brothers.”

Looking at the crowd, you see Børæn smile. It is something Børæn is not use too. It is obvious to all who see him, that this is something Børæn is uncomfortable doing. I should add this is something he still does not do.

Laughter fills the lodge, but a deep cough, and a low wolf growl, stops it.

The old man chuckles to himself.

Hear now as once again Børæn speaks: “Now, let us bury the dead. Let us honor his memory. Let me hear about you, and let us kindle the embers of what I hope will be a long friendship."

For days Børæn and the village talk, boast, and it is here that the path of Børæn changes. Where does this path take him? What lead him back to us, many years later to bring the Tribe of the Wolf to greatness? That is another tale.

The old man, turns, and bows his head deeply to the shadows, where a large man sits, with sword and axe resting against his chair. Next to him is a woman, whose hair is gold. At the feet of the man and woman, is a large black wolf, who eyes the the old man with weary respect.

With that the old man turns, and begins his walk.

Tap.

All heads follow him, as he walks to the door.

Tap.

All bow their heads, and whisper oaths of respect.

Tap.

In the man’s wake conversation slowly begins.

Tap.

As the old man gets nearer to the door the voices grow louder.

Tap.

The old man leaves the lodge, and walks into the night.

So ends the tale.

Tap.

So the group headed back to the Monastery, this time Mazlor took us to a different place, not the crevice.However, the room we needed to be in was occupied, a headless creature was wandering around. Fortunately the power of the Light held it and we had not trouble, Mazlor opens a door at the far end of the room, this involved inserting what looked like a desiccated finger and some words. I should have known this was not a good sign, beyond the door was this wall of dark water, without a word Ja’Kar walks through, of course we follow. The good news is we don’t die but do face a strange twisting set of stairs surrounded by oblivion, apparently this is the way to go. If this bizarre staircase was not enough a group of Sturge attacked us, one even got hold of me, these bloodsucking beast truly annoy me. Managing to remove it and we killed them all without serious injury. Reaching the end of the stairway we came across another wall of water and a door, no finger needed this time.

We entered a room with columns with grotesque carving, I had no wish to look closely. As we left the room we heard screams, and a strange sound. Balto and Belador went to investigate, they soon came running back followed by weird floating objects, that did not look friendly. Fortunately we did manage to defeat them. They were a hybrid of organic and metallic, with a long probe. Jorann decided to pour Holy Water on them, this dissolved the organic part leaving the metal!

Heading to the room Balto and Balador had reached we find three humans and three goblyns tied to racks with glowing bonds. The bodies keep changing, going from a recognizable form to something more globulous. Ja’Kar kills the goblyns before we can react, Jorann intercedes before he kills the humans. Thinking he can ‘cure’ him Jorann forces Holy Water down the throat of one of the humans, it burns from within, Ja’Kar kills the other two.

Returning to the column room we took the door to the East, beyond is a long room with 12 statues, two each, Human, Elf, Dwarf,Goblyn, Littleling and Orc. As we were examining them, Balto yelled out, a creature had come through a door to the South. Fortunately our group of Priests dispatched it as only magical weapons seem to do any physical damage. Continuing through the room we head out of the East door into an area with high bramble hedges and strange trees with pods on them. Mazlor and Jorann seemed concerned, apparently the last time they were here the tree were not. A red goblyn suddenly appeared above us on the hedge, Balto kills it and we notice it has bird like legs, this place gets stranger by the moment. We see the brambles from a tunnel up ahead and head into it, we can hear more goblyns above us. Ja’Kar decides that he will run out ahead to draw out for the rest of us to shoot at. Speed and the ability to dodge seem to be his thing. Off he goes, two creatures follow him giving Balto and Balador shots at them. A short while later the two creatures are dead and there are no more sounds, guess that was all there was.

Regrouping we follow the path and come to a building with a door. Mazlor and Jorann mention there should be a strange fountain up ahead. We continue and come to clearing and there is fountain of black sludge, the roots of the pod trees around it are trailed into the sludge at the bottom. Determining that this sludge is a sources of the evil Jorann, Mazlor and Sal try to remove it. Jorann initially pours some Holy Water into the pool, there is much bubbling and frothing. The roots from tries start to pull themselves out of the pool and the trees begin to shake. There is a visible drop in the level of the pool, but clearly this would take a lot of Holy Water. Mazlor casts Bless on the fountain, roots and vines withdraw but still the fountain stands. The three of them try to purify it. This has a large impact but not enough to clear it. Now we have gained an idea as to how to clear the fountain, but not having the means to hand, we head back to the door, Mazlor and Jorann know where this leads to. They want to confirm all is as they remember. We go through and head down some long winding stairs. Following the corridor we come to a room, upon opening the door we see it is full of oozing goo with strange limbs reaching out. We close the door and leave. Heading North we come across two of the floating creatures, now we know how to deal with them they are quickly destroyed, more metal to use! Mazlor and Jorann lead us to a room that is full is clearly belongs to a Magic User, I am assume Ro, there are scrolls, books along with other items.

Mazlor and Jorann explain that given what we have to do and our current state of spells it would be better to go back and then return another time. They feel that one more visit and we will be able to close the portal. We head back without incident, the headless corpse once again being held by the Light.

Aye young lady, I am an Elf of the North Sea clans. Belàldur is the name. Don’t worry if you can’t pronounce it correctly, few humans can, and even fewer can spell it! I’m a long way from home, but you never know where you’ll wind up when you live life drifting with the tide. I also happen to be one of the Champions of the Barony, perhaps you’ve heard of us, and the Battle of the Dalewoods Fort? Come, have a seat here and I’ll buy you a drink, and tell you the thrilling tale of our latest expedition into places dark and dangerous.

You’ve probably heard about the old ruined monastery north of town. There is an evil that dwells there that is beyond description, corrupting everything around it. We found the corpses of Sir Reynald’s men and the goblyns they had been fighting… the corruption literally melting their bodies into a vile ooze that sank into cracks in the floor. That place is so twisted, reality itself shifts at times, leaving you feeling lost between different planes of existence, hot forceful winds of chaos howling against you, body and soul. We pressed on, despite the terrors.

At one point, we found ourselves descending a massive spiral staircase, with stairs that FLOATED IN MIDAIR, when we were attacked by a frenzy of desperate, blood-sucking creatures. One of them attached itself to me, its face-needle draining my blood before I could scrape it away with my blade. Here, have a look. (Belàldur peels back his shirt to reveal the wound.) Right there on the shoulder. There was a whole flock of those things we had to fight off before we could continue.

Those creatures were nothing compared to the creature we had to face next: floating round horrors, made of flesh on top and steel on the bottom, creating eerie sounds that echoed through the dungeon. With weird tentacles hanging out all over their bodies, one of them with a large glowing eye at the end of it that could assault you with deadly beams… Balto, one of my companions, had the wise idea of ambushing them with a flaming flask of oil, but the oppression of the dungeon was too much for him and his hand slipped. I can’t blame him much for it, I was a victim of this myself once while we were down there and managed to put an arrow into one of my own friends! Not fatally by luck, it was just a flesh wound. At any rate, we fought bravely and defeated the creatures, helped along by a particularly lucky bow shot of mine straight into one of those twice-damned eyes… (Belàldur mimics drawing and shooting an arrow.)

Next there were the strange goblyn guardians that stood atop 10 foot high brambles in a twisted garden with their crossbows. Ja’Kar, one of the odder members of the group, that believes in one of the strange human superstitions (no offence) again proved quite useful in baiting a trap for them, running like a demon out into the open with no armor to draw their fire and making them perfect targets for the rest of us. He may be unpredictable, rescuing goblyns one moment and executing them the next, but he most certainly is brave. We pressed on…

Imagine a fountain filled with sludge of pitch-black sludge, pure evil in liquid form. That’s what we came across next, and of course the 2 priests of the group were not about to let it stand. As strange as I find their philosophy, I can’t deny the power of their magic, as they were able to vanish enough of the sludge in the fountain for the evil in the area to backlash, shaking the ground as the vile plants that had grown around it retreated. Beyond, we found what seemed to be the home of the foul being responsible for all this chaos, but he wasn’t there.

We will return there soon, and my hope is that we’ll destroy the source of all this evil and corruption. Of course, we might just wind up dying a gruesome death. So I plan on living tonight as if it were my last. Would you like another drink? (Grin.)

There have been strange things happening, the Marshal, Jorann and Mazlor have been having strange dreams. Jorann has been tased by her god to cleanse the stain of the corruption!

The group gathered for the trip to the Monastery in an attempt to close the portal, Myself, Jorann, Sal, Mazlor, Balto, Fergus Ja’Kar and Belador left the town. Everything was normal, the farms deserted, the tower just floating there. When we arrived the camp was still set up, we decided to leave alone, it could be useful if we needed to stay for an extended period.

Entering the monastery we came across bodies of mercenaries and red goblyns, wherever the bodies of mercenaries touched the goblyns there was a strange melting effect and the presence of red goo. Mazlor insisted we moved the mercenaries away, once done he said a prayer over their bodies and we returned to the goblyns. We discovered the goo could be burnt….

Jorann using the map from previous visits lead us to the crevice, on the way Mazlor and Sal walked through a wall and disappeared for a while, apparently there is some secret entrance to a sacred shrine.

Reaching the crevice we found three ropes suspended in the air with what had once been a structure over the crevice lying in ruins on the floor. Mazlor, Balador and Ja’Kar went down and the rest of us followed, suddenly there were a group of misshapen goblyns upon us, led by a Shaman, we were outnumbered. I cast sleep and they all fell, the pen is indeed mightier than the sword.

We continued with our exploration and found a cage with 10 goblyns inside, apparently of the Green Iron Fist, it seems they were called there. There had been more, but some had been taken away one by one, never to be seen again. I fear here is the source of the grotesque red goblyns we have seen. They did not seem capable of doing much and we had a long debate over what to do with them. Finally Ja’Kar and Balto decided they were going to take them back to the camp we left outside the monastery.

The rest of us continued and coming to a large cavern with big pool of shallow water in it we saw another floating rope leading to a hole in the roof. Mazlor and Jorann said this was they way. Balador climbed the rope, only to suddenly come tumbling down. Balto said he could climb up and had prepared a flask of burning oil. After he through the oil into the opening several explosion happened followed by a shower of blood and goblyn body parts. Following his declaration that it was clear we all went up, to find a strange sight indeed, the water was flowing uphill. Following the water we eventually come to a large cavern of stalagmites and stalactites.

Entering the cavern we were attacked by a pair of Dark Manatees, with a bit of effort these were taken care of. Ja’Kar decided to make a rather horrifying cloak out of one of them. Carefully crossing the river, we hear voices calling out for help, warily we move towards the sound. We come across four red goblins guarding some of the Marshal’s men. The goblyns are defeated but Ja’Kar falls, fortunately we revive and heal him, I would have missed that strange Monk. We free the men, who tell us about a Shaman and spiky Orcs,and continue with our search. Coming out of a passageway we are confronted with five humans and five goblins. Belador quickly lit a flask of oil and threw it at them then we successfully engaged them. there was no time for a rest, we heard the sounds of more enemies coming down the passage, quickly Sal spread some caltrops inside the opening and we positioned ourselves ready for battle. The caltrops did the job, the goblyns were slowed and Mazlor quickly killed one, which to my utter surprise exploded, fortunately none of us were hurt. I then saw the most bizarre thing, another goblyn exploded, and another…. and so on.Suddenly there were no more goblyns. This may explain the explosion we heard after Balto threw the earlier oil flask.

Jorann led us down the passage, telling us there was a Shaman’s room further on, seemed like a good place to find him. We found the room and the Shaman, unfortunately he was not alone and was prepared for us. He was already casting a spell and with him were three chaos humans and orcs, all with large spikes protruding from their bodies, this was not looking good. His casting finished and suddenly several of our party ran away (I shall not name them in fear…… that their reputations will be damaged). A magic missile took care of the Shaman and in rather spectacular fashion if I do say. We rid ourselves of the other, after Jorann had held the humans I took care of them with my blade.

In the room was a globe of chaos, with what looked like deformed goblyn writhing inside. Jorann destroyed it with Holy Water and we desecrated the alter.

Tired, bloodied and out of spells we agreed it was time to head out. All was quiet and we arrived at the chamber below the chasm to see that the walls are on fire. I am not sure if this is good or bad. We can get to the ropes without danger and climb back up into the monastery. As we head to the entrance there is a feeling that we are being watched. Jorann dispels this feeling with a few words.

Arriving at the camp we find the goblyns brought back by Balto and Ja’Kar, they appear to have no will of their own and will do anything you tell them to.

We have survived another day and learned new things, unfortunately I fear this is just the beginning.

My dear friends, I know that over the last few seasons I have been telling you all that my days of adventuring were well behind me and that I could finally devote myself to the advancement of the Temple. However, I must now tell you that I was wrong!
Tangadorin has been sending me dreams about the forces of Chaos at the Monastery, and while I was planning to send Grel out to further the fight against Chaos, Tangadorin had other plans. He came to me and told me in no uncertain words, that the “Stain of Corruption” is growing and that now is the time for it to be cleansed! He told my that it was my duty to see that it was cleansed!

Furthermore, the Marshal, Averin and my good friend Mazlor have all been having the same evil dreams. The Marshal summoned us all to discuss what this meant. He also tasked us with finding out what is going on there and dealing with it.

So my Friends that is why I have strapped on the Holy Scepter of Tangadorin, polished up my armor and shield and set off with my old companions, and some new ones, to the Monastery.

It was the 10th day of summer, that I set out with Mazlor, Sally, Pyria, Fergus, Beladur, Balto & Jakar.
The journey there was uneventful. We found the place deserted with but a few empty tents outside.My dear friends, I know that over the last few seasons I have been telling you all that my days of adventuring were well behind me and that I could finally devote myself to the advancement of the Temple. However, I must now tell you that I was wrong!
Tangadorin has been sending me dreams about the forces of Chaos at the Monastery, and while I was planning to send Grel out to further the fight against Chaos, Tangadorin had other plans. He came to me and told me in no uncertain words, that the “Stain of Corruption” is growing and that now is the time for it to be cleansed! He told my that it was my duty to see that it was cleansed!

Furthermore, the Marshal, Averin and my good friend Mazlor have all been having the same evil dreams. The Marshal summoned us all to discuss what this meant. He also tasked us with finding out what is going on there and dealing with it.

So my Friends that is why I have strapped on the Holy Scepter of Tangadorin, polished up my armor and shield and set off with my old companions, and some new ones, to the Monastery.

It was the 10th day of summer, that I set out with Mazlor, Sally, Pyria, Fergus, Beladur, Balto & Jakar. The journey there was uneventful. We found the place deserted with but a few empty tents outside. The elf Beladur had an odd conversation with an owl that wanted him to be his familiar, but it melted into goo when Mazlor presented his holy symbol. So we entered and began our adventure. We found some of Sir Reynauld’s men dead with some dead chaos goblins. What was truly strange was the way the dead humans were melting wherever they were touching the goblins. We separated the men and gave them peace.
I lead the way with my map, but since it had been so long, I took us to the wrong location and we had to backtrack to get to the crevasse. The three ropes were still hanging in midair, just as Grel reported, so we climbed down them. Almost immediately we were attacked by chaos goblins, but they were no match for us! We killed a shamen with a strange chaos staff, but Pyria did not hear the activation words, so she couldn’t get it to work. I destroyed a chaos shrine with holy water and Jakar took the ten regular goblins, who seemed to have no will of their own left, and led them out of the monastery.
We continued to the rope where the water flows upwards, and our brave elf Beladur climbed up it. We heard a couple load thwaks, and Beladur fell to the floor bleeding.
When we revived him, he had no idea what had happened. We were sure that the way was guarded and were not sure how to proceed. The brave littling threw a molatov cocktail through the opening after climbing the wall. We heard a series of explosions and goblin guts rained down. When we climbed up, there was no sign of anything alive, so we continued on our way.
We came to the river and encountered some more goblins, much to their regret! We heard some humans calling for help from the passage to the left so we followed it, killed some more goblins and freed some humans. We fed them and helped them escape. They told us that there was another shamen and about thirty goblins, including some big spiky guards for the shamen.
We continued on and found more chaos goblins with some chaos humans guarding the next passage. A fierce battle ensued, but once again, Tangadorin was with us and we prevailed!
We continued to explore and eventually came to the shamen’s chamber. There we found the shamen with three spiky goblins and three spiky humans! As we entered he had just finished a spell which gave me a queasy feeling of dread. I was able to hold the three chaos humans, but the shamen cast fear on us and Sally, Balto, Fergus and Beladur fled for their lives!!! Pyria killed the shamen with a massive magic missile and then set about killing the held humans, while Mazlor, Jakar and I fought the chaos goblins. Just as we killed the last one, the rest of the party returned, looking sheepish.
In front of us was another chaos shrine with a sphere of chaos energy swirling around a trapped goblin writhing in pain. I brought forth the Holy Water of Tangadorin and desecrated the shrine and disrupted the chaos which melted away.
We decided to scout a little further to the river, but when we got their, we heard a strange sound the likes of which I had never heard. Mazlor told me that it was the sound of some strange flying beasts which shot death beams. We were all hurt, and our spells were depleted, so we decided to head back, rest and return soon…..

As we prepared to aid the Marshall in the battle to take the forts from the Orcs I began to feel this compelling urge to visit the Monastery. At first it was just a thought, but soon it was a a driving force, it took all my resolve to not take off into the night. I had to do something, I had the scroll needed to blow the gate, I had sold my soul for it. Without me there was no-one in the party who could read it. Between the urge to leave and the nightmares of seeing my friends trapped inside the fort, my sleep was non-existent. Clearly I could not be in two places at once and obviously I was going to be at the Monastery, I had to find a solution.

Breakfast came, somewhat of a relief it meant a new day, now to find a solution. Obviously I could not go to the square and boldly ask if there was a Mage who happened to be free and be willing to undertake a risky adventure. However, a few discreet inquiries brought up the name Parabellum. He owned a bookshop but apparently he had magical powers and was tolerated because of the service he provided. I found his shop and entered, an interesting place. The conversation was long, complex, heated at times but came to a fruitful conclusion, Parabellum would go with the group and blow the gates using a fireball scroll in exchange for his own scroll to copy the spell. He takes a third of my soul and gets all the fun.

Leaving the shop I at last feel I have done all I can for my friends. Collecting my belongings and supplies I give into the calling and head to the Monastery. The journey is uneventful. I arrive at the monastery expecting some hustle and bustle, but all in all it is quiet, obviously the main group has gone to aid the attack on the fort and the remainder are guarding the first level….

I enter the building, all is quiet, no voices, no chatter, nothing. Ahead I see a pile of weapons, not stacked in readiness but just there on the floor. As this sickening feeling develops in the pit of my stomach I move forward, still no sounds, more weapons. I move further, more of the same, it is clear the men are gone, nobody is guarding the Monastery.

The desire to move forward recedes, I return to the entrance, it seems both Geas and I know it is pointless for me to move forward on my own. I head back to the city, feeling more scared than when I left.

Gather close, Enonians, and let me tell you a tale of great bravery and victory!

On the first day of Summer, the 58th year after The Doom, the brave Marshall Roehm, his valiant companion Sir Reynald, a large company of knights, cavalry and foot soldiers crushed the Orcs who had set up a fort on the site of the old Dalewoods Wayfarer’s Inn. Aided by a brave group of adventurers who snuck into the fort unseen and blew open the gates, Roehm’s forces soundly defeated or drove off the orcs. It was the Marshall himself who speared the Orc Chieftain with his lance, ending the battle.

The adventurers, who’ve now been named Heroes of the Duchy of Irecia, had discovered a way into the inside of the palisade walls that was unknown to the Orcs. One of the adventurers, an elven mage by the name of Pyria, struck a dangerous deal with the mysterious Striped Mage for scrolls of Fireball, in order to blow the gates open and provide a clear path for the Marshall’s forces to overcome the defending Orcs.

The Marshall gathered his forces – knights consisting of nobles and landowners from around the vicinity of Enonia, militias and men-at-arms sworn to his service. Sir Reynald, brother to the Duke of Irecia, also joined the forces, bringing his mercenaries and his own retinue of knights and cavalry. Nearly 200 brave men and women marched at a double-time pace to the fort, making the trek in under 6 hours for what normally took 8 to 10 hours of a walk. Unfortunately, for the adventurers who would again enter the palisade to surprise the orcs, their mage Pyria was nowhere to be found!

The group was approached by a former adventurer by the name of Parabellum. It seemed that Pyria had been compelled to do something else, but wanted the attack to succeed, so she bargained with Parabellum to join the attack. He eagerly agreed, packing only a few things, the precious Fireball scroll and several pipes to keep his courage up. With their plan still intact, the adventurers set off with the attack force to begin the battle at dawn!

The adventurers entered the dark dirt tunnel. Their group consisted of the Might Mazlor – Curate of The Light, Balto and Fergus – the littleling and human friends, Ja’kar – the Fist of Mesha, Ragar the Ranger, Bel-a-dur the enigmatic elven warrior and Grel, Paladin of Tangadorin the Light Bringer. Joining them were Sally, an Adept of the Light, and the pipe-smoking, frying-pan toting Parabellum the Mage. Negotiating with a crazy kobold shaman who had a rat farm at the entrance to these dank and dirty tunnels, they bribed him with shanks of freshly butchered pork. He eagerly let them through and they negotiated familiar tunnels until they reached the basement walls of what had been the Inn.

The adventurers pushed through rocks and rubble that had been used to plug the tunnel from the basement. Creeping inside, they discovered that the orcs and goblyns had been busy! The former tunnels and small storerooms had been opened up into large workshops and barracks! Clearly, the bestials were looking to make this simple fort into a much larger facility, one that could support a thrust into the heart of the remaining human lands!

The adventurers found an opening to peek through, the stealthy thief Balto avoiding being seen. Horns blared as the Marshall began a pre-arranged feint, distracting the Orcs so that the adventurers could get in position to use the Fireball and destroy the gate. Deciding that the opening was too risky, the adventurers found the main doors from the workshops to the outside, but guarded by two goblyns! Bows thrummed, fists flew and swords flashed as two goblyns fell quickly. The adventurers crept outside into the middle of frantic Orc activity! The cavalry was about to ride out the East gate to sweep around the fort and flank the humans. The goblyn and orc foot soldiers massed at the West gate, ready to smash into the human lines.

A loud cheer erupted from the humans as the palisade gate blew apart in a fiery burst! The orcs, shocked, all turned to look at the adventurers now in their midst! Parabellum stood with a disintegrating parchment and a proud grin at his handiwork, while the rest of the party drew weapons and prepared to fight for their lives.

The Orc Chieftain bellowed out orders – ATTACK! – and the orc cavalry swept out of the fort in one direction, the complaining goblyns and dour orcs out the other to face the humans. Little did they know that a trap had been laid by the cunning Marshall… most of his knights were waiting for the orc cavalry to sweep by and he would crush them from behind!

The tide of battle shifted decisively when the orc foot soldiers broke and ran! Seeing the Marshall himself hold up to the charge of the cavalry, watching their orc mates die quickly, the foot soldiers’ resolve broke. They followed the goblyns, who never regained their morale, into the Dale Woods and back east towards orc lands. They ran past the charging knights of Sir Reynald, who had swept from the woods and were bearing down on the orc cavalry from the rear.

The orc cavalry crashed into the archers and into the guard of Marshall Roehm. The poor archers held up bravely, but were overrun, all dead save for three souls out of twenty. The Marshall, his knights and the orcs traded blows, and although the Marshall was injured, he kept fighting.

The orcs had been defeated! With the body of the fearsome Orc Chieftain laying dead at the feet of the Marshall, any hope the remaining forces had of regrouping vanished. Orcs and goblyns fled into the woods and back to the lands they came from. The men and women cheered long and hard. The victorious Marshall rode into the fort and the soldiers followed.

“We have taken the day!” the reinvigorated Marshall shouted. “We have bloodied their nose and sent them running! Long will this day be remembered for the bravery and stoutness of human hearts and arms! YOU are the victors and this is the first blow we strike against the Darkness! And to you, brave adventurers, we salute you! This day is because of your achievement and drive to find a way for us to take the fort. By my authority as Marshall, I name you all Heroes of the Duchy of Irecia!”

‘Tis at times like these, I feel like a man thrice my age.

It began when Enonian Leadership developed a burr under their saddle with regards to the Bridge Troll. So great was the reward promised that a pack of townsmen who lacked a sense of their own limitations charged headlong into oblivion.
The desire to rid Enonia of this longstanding thorn even spread to a few of my comrades. I argued strenuously against such a venture with a thrust of three prongs. Firstly, that we had no ethical grounds for killing a sentient creature that preyed not and made no demands on humanity, save to be left alone, within the sanctuary of his home. Secondly, that such an assault risked the enmity of his offspring. And, lastly but not of least import, I judged the odds of success perilously close to equal in both directions.

I was certain that sentiment had been turned from such a course of action, but, alas, such was not the case. Upon assemblage, fever to best Father Troll reemerged and spread like wildfire. I could not countenance such an endeavor and so declined to participate.

Those who did wert not to be seen again, save for distant sightings of their lonely heads resting upon stakes.

Treen – The most promising fledgling wizard I have yet seen on the Eastern Borders. Truly I believe she was on the cusp of significant power and, viewed through the prism of tactical value, her demise was the single most costly loss of the day.
Dargellon – Though we were opposed in judgment with regards to Father Troll, his courage and martial prowess needs be respected, and I am proud to have fought alongside him on many occasions.
Harold Trotter – The enigmatic Littleling hath been exploring beyond Enonia even longer than myself, which can be said by few. To where and for why he would vanish for long periods was unbeknownst and may forever remain that way. ‘Tis also a pity that we hath no remaining allies amongst the Little Ones.
The remainder – Kallista, Zandalfar, Kalvin of the Eye, and Sofie – were largely unfamiliar to me, all save Kallista being newcomers to the area.

One hopes that the fates of these heroes and hopefuls will not quash the slow trickle of talent into Enonia.
Perhaps more will emerge.
Perhaps when spring returns.
But for now, the list of adventurers is limited and likewise my zeal for seeing lives risked.

Mazlor,
Beacon of the Light

There is so much happening in my mind everything is jumbled, we sadly lost a member of our party during this adventure. Tobias met a terrible end, but it was so because of his courage and character. He met his end scouting ahead to make sure we were not walking into a hornets nest.
Considering his previous exploits one would think him invincible, alas that was not the case.

A group of us set out to find the elusive druid grove but as we approached the place of the inn we found a lot of activity, the Goblyn and Orcs were building a fortification. We camped and Tobias decided to go scouting. He came back some time after with four human captives who we fed and somewhat healed. In the meantime we had taken out a Goblyn patrol.

Seems like Tobias freed the captives by collapsing a roof on some Orcs – wish I had seen that….

We returned to Enonia with our friends, learning they came for a village to the North. They had been attacked by Goblyns and forced to flee, one wished to return to see if there were any left. After some rest we headed North about two days later we approached the outskirts of a hamlet.
Tobias went forward and scouted, he did nt return when we expected. We waited a while longer and then approached the hamlet. The sight was not pleasant, in front of a barn were the remains of Tobias, given the beetles we came upon I can only hope he was dead before they started feasting.

We destroyed the beetles and found nothing else, although the member of the hamlet did express his gratitude for saving his and his companions’ lives.

We returned to Enonia and rested.

Some time later we headed East to find the grove, despite the lack of solid information we did find it. Some members of the party had a terrible time and found themselves being flung through the air, but Ceresaii was happy!

We thought about attacking the camp by the inn, but decided against it, instead Dargellen found signs of a patrol and we thought that would be a worthwhile target. We tracked them and thought we had the advantage, unfortunately we were wrong, they turned the table son us in the woods.
We did eventually win, but there were some serous injuries to our party, fortunately no more deaths. We tended to our wounded and made haste back to Enonia.

We have told Renauld of our findings and it seems that he may be taking them seriously ( he paid us a pittance for the information… ), we shall see.

These developments to the East are troubling, if the Goblyns and Orcs establish a base so close we are in for some rough times, the Troll may be our only hope to stem the tide, but I fear we have tread a path past him that will be discovered.

We assembled an interesting party, 3 thieves, a cleric and apprentice, a ranger, a druid and myself. We headed out of Enonia towards the Monastery. On the way we hailed the Striped Mage and this time he came down to see us. He seemed even crankier than usual; seems the Chaos followers have been bothering him. We told him about the forest room with the pillar and that sparked his interest, the pillar is some form of power cylinder. He would not elaborate more on what it was or could be used for, but he strongly suggested we did not mess with it. He refused to recharge my wand, suggesting instead I go to Irecia and study…. alright for him he can just float over the Orcs!

We carried on into the monastery to find Mazlor’s glyph had been tripped. There were a few remains of Chaos followers, nothing of value remained on them, which was somewhat disappointing to Kallister, Tip and Tobias.

As we did not have Mazlor or his ‘keys’ with us we had to take the long way round to reach the area of the forest. We got to the cavern with the raging river without incident but here we met a large number of the followers, with them were two magic users, seemed to be clerics. We made short work of them, sleep spells always works in these situations, unfortunately Cujo did take a lethal hit, a sad day for Jorann.

We proceeded through the caves to the river landing and boarded the boats, interestingly the band of thieves stayed together……. We explained to them that this ride may seem a bit weird but not to worry we would be with them all the way.

We made it all the way to the forest room without seeing anything but when we opened the door we were assailed by a disgusting rotten smell. The plants we had hacked before were decomposing, which was good news. We followed the path, Tobias went on ahead. He had slipped on one of the cloaks we had taken from the mob earlier, hoping this would provide him some protection. As we reached the Northern corner of the path we heard him scream and he was running back towards us. What followed was a strange site. A purplish flying creature with no wings appeared, an organic body grafted onto some metallic plate. There were mechanical and organic arms flailing, a strange chattering/shimmering/hissing sound emanated from it. I fired a magic missile at it and caused some damage, but it looked like it passed through some kind of shield. Dargellon’s first arrow bounced off the metal body. The sound changed and we saw a glow from the organic hand followed shortly by an arc of flame. We were all caught in the blast and suffered some damage. Dargellon fired another arrow, this one was true and the beast exploded, the mechanical parts falling to the ground. We examined the remains and found the mechanical arm to contain a poisoned needle.

Tobias had gone to the door, the rest of us proceeded to destroy the remaining plants, but after the first pulse of magic both Kallister and Tip decided to leave and join Tobias. Dargellon, Jorann, Ceresai and myself remained. We did manage to clear the remaining plants, no more mutants coming from this field!

We headed back to the door expecting to find the three other there when we heard sounds of battle coming from some distance off. When we reached the corridor we saw it was coming from the other end and floating there was another one of those purple tripods. We planned an ambush by the door, but it went the other way, we guessed Kallister, Tip and Tobias were the focus. We ran up the corridor and later found that the three of them had been having some fun. Kallister and Tip had stumbled upon a ritual involving a huge and heavy symbol of the three fingers. Tip had killed the leader with what looked to be a clean, powerful strike to the neck – the head was lying some distance from the body. They then killed the other three, who strangely did not attack them but did keep pushing this symbol at Kallister. Tobias had taken a serious blast from the tripod and was unconscious, but looked like he would recover.

Kallister had been removing the gold covering from the symbol, there was a considerable amount of gold and this would not be a quick task. I stayed to help her while the other explored the area, suddenly they returned and Dargellon was not looking good. He was pale, shaking and had malodorous pus and blood oozing from a rent in his right arm. The door to the North contained some ugly creature that had attacked them when the door was opened, fortunately it was chained to what looked like an alter, so could not follow them.

I poured a vial of Holy water on Dargellon’s wound but this had no effect. Kallister dug out two scrolls they had found and handed them to Jorann but there was nothing of benefit. We decided to head back to Enonia as quickly as possible and take him to the Temple.

As we entered the room of statues we found ourselves confronted by another group of followers, we dispatched them quickly, my sleep spell and Jorann’s hold significantly evened the odds. We bound one and took him captive. The remainder of the journey was long and uneventful, we tried to be gentle with Dargellan as we hauled him up and down the dungeon. He could walk but was unable to climb.

Darellon was clearly getting worse all the time. As we passed the Fountain of the Light we stopped to see if this would help. There were obscene symbols surrounding the entrance and several red candles burning in front of the door. Mazlor is not going to be happy. Ceresaii decided to kick them out of the way, unfortunately he tripped a glyph and was knocked unconscious, these followers have some serious magical powers among them. Drinking the water did seem to give Dargellan more strength. He plunged his arm into the fountain and the wound was cleaned and healed, however, the real damage could now be seen. The disease was spreading through his body and looked to be killing his flesh as it went.

We left the Temple and pushed through the night arriving at Enonia exhausted about 4am. We hurriedly explained the situation to the guard, who let us pass so long as someone stayed and explained what we had brought back, Jorann and his apprentice volunteered!

We did get Dargellon to the Temple and Averin did heal him and ordered several days rest for full recovery.

These followers are growing in number and the tripods are not easily defeated. The power cylinder may be a key but the Striped Mage warned not to mess with it, we have some serious thinking to do……

There is so much to write, I am not sure all is clear in my head but I must note the recent events before they are lost forever.

A large group of us have decided to attempt to close the portal for good. Not wishing to sacrifice myself in the manner of Asgrim and as Parabellum could not give any details of what Asgrim was actually doning at the time we decided to try asking the Striped Mage. Leaving Enonia under the scrutiny of the alert guards we headed North. I hailed the Mage and he contacted me after I asked for help to close the portal. He did want to know how I knew about it and was skeptical until I mentioned the Master, at that point he told me to come back when we found the portal, no offer of immediate help!

We headed to the monastery and immediately saw it had been desecrated by the chaotic three fingered lot, there were burning red candles and obscene graffiti everywhere. Not much we could do but I think Alana did write some ‘anti’ graffiti! We headed to the crevasse, stopping by the fountain of the Light on the way. Curiously we found this burnt mass (it may have been human at some point) in the doorway. We removed it from the room and headed on. Reaching the river without event we found the rafts and headed on. We made it to the beach and mushroom field and started to explore. Coming across a small tunnel we disturbed some undead and the ensuing battle was interesting with ghould, skeletons and a rather stinky something. Good prevailed over Evil and eventually we had the place to ourselves (I think). As we explored more we discovered the source of the skeletons, an underground graveyard. Mazlor asked that we return the bones back to the graves, so after some sorting and digging we were done..

We reached a dead end in a tunnel, curiously it had a large stone block in front of it, with what looked like dried blood at the bottom and underneath. After some debate we decided to move. After Kjeld broke his pole trying to lift it we decided to push. An Elf spirit suddenly rose,thanked us for freeing her and then disappeared, we suspected she had become the somewhat smelly one. Underneath were some rotted silks and to Kee’s delight a clean looking long sword, with a dragon as the handle, spread wings forming the guard. Further exploration revealed the mines that had delivered the stone used to build the Monastery. This was it so we headed back to the rafts. We headed to the opening opposite the one we entered the cavern by and followed the river, suddenly we came upon a whirlpool and everyone thought we had found the portal. Suddenly Irem said this was not the portal and we should turn back, he offered no explanation and insisted this was not the portal. None of us wanted to enter anyway so we tuned back. We went to the dock by the cliff and suspected this lead to the columned room reached by the winding (sturge infested) stairway, we were right.

We headed to the ‘garden’ area and yes we heard the scampering of feet above us after we ran tothe tunnel. Jorann had this wonderful idea that the two of us should run out into the open, he would shield me and I put them to sleep. I know he and his God have vowed to protect Mages, but still…. Despite my doubts we went with his plan, mainly because he suddenly grabbed me and dragged me outside. Fortunately his plan worked, I escaped unscathed and he looked liked a pin cushion – ha! We moved on and came across a structure by the path, of course someone decided to open the door, this spiked beast rushed us and suddenly it was mayhem, once again Good triumphed. Beyond the structure was this fountain with a flowing back ooze, suddenly Kjeld rushed forward shouting something unintelligible and smashed it to pieces, no real answer to that. As this was a dead end we went into the structure and found a descending stairway, of course we went down. We found ourselves in the middle of an intersection, not wanting to open up more cans of worms we decided now would be a good time to loot the library. Unfortunately we opened the door with some difficulty and found it destroyed, something had exploded from the middle, Jorann was convinced there was still something of value to be found, but after extensive searching all we found was pulp.

By consensus now was the time to head back, we returned to the rafts and exited the monastery by the crevasse (no sturge this way). On our way back we noticed smoke to the West we went to investigate and then Dargellan noticed we were missing Irem and there were tracks heading West. We followed them and cresting the rise ahead we came upon a strange site, Irem was fighting Irem! Long story short one was held the other wasn’t, as we negotiated with this one several people came over the hill and clearly they were not coming to invite us for dinner. The ensuing battle was hectic. The ‘free’ Irem was running around insisting he was the real one and looking for a weapon, tow of the approaching party were magic user, druids or clerics I guess as I could not counter their spells. One cast a spell spell that caused use to attack someone other than him, Kee bravely through herself in front of my Magic Missile to save one of our party. I have to say this was a brave and actually very graceful move, she launched herself into the air, took the hit, rolled into the ground and came to her feet with her dragon sword in hand ready to cut swathes through the enemy. Eventually all that remained were the party (with free Irem), held Irem and a druid held by Kjeld. The held Irem was moving and suddenly he disappeared then above us cloud of gas was floating in the air. In the confusion the druid escaped and rand into the burning building, he was gone.

We regouped and Irem explained how he had gone to a meeting with the dark stranger and then the next thing he knew was locked in a strange building. He escaped by setting light to it and as he was running away was beset by his doppelganger. As we headed back to Enonia Irem said he thinks it would be a good idea if he went into the Kingdom for a while, Enonia was not a good place for him anymore. We paid our tax without bitterness, it seemed irrelevant under the circumstances.. Irem said he had some affairs to close out before he left ans so with heavy hearts we said our goodbyes. For a thief Irem had many good qualities, not that I would tell him that, maybe our paths will cross again.

So many strange things happening, based upon Irem’s explanation it seems Chaos is here in Enonia. Yinvax has been shunted off to the stockade and I don’t trust the new guy… maybe he is the problem.

Given that ‘Irem’ was not Irem and I am sure that the goblin we interrogated mentioned a whirlpool where you went through, came back and were improved I think we may have found the portal. I must see the Striped Mage as soon as I can, maybe I should ask him to recharge the wand, he doesn’t seem too friendly but surely that is a trivial matter for him.

As you enter the mostly-empty watering hole, you see the young man Dargellon sitting at a table in the corner, his unkempt black hair falling down almost to his reddened eyes. On the tabletop, you spot 2 bottles, one completely empty and one halfway finished. He waves an older man standing near the table to sit with his left hand, clutching a glass of some dark liquid in his right.

“Nice funeral, eh? It’s the least we coulda done for her. She went out like a flamin’ hero. Yeah, you heard right, I was there at the end. Heh, yeah, I guess I could tell the story… again.” Light from the nearby lamp seems to make the scar running up the side of his head glow as he leans back to begin.

“That spellflinger Treen told you true; we had gone out that morning to lay down a false trail for the orcs to follow. Mostly it was me and Irem and that new buddy of his laying the trail; Anya wanted to go get another look at what was happening at the hamlet. I hadn’t decided if I trusted her yet, but I gotta admit, between her attitude and her string of orc ears, I kinda liked her.”

“Anyway, when she got back, she was in a flamin’ fit over what the orcs were doin’ in the hamlet. Told us they were startin’ some mumbo-jumbo ritual that was buildin’ up to something big. We decided Anya and I would go back to that hamlet to see if there was a way ‘ta stop it, and Irem would go back to warn the others. Our horses would be spotted, so I handed ’Stomper’s reins to Irem and headed out with Anya on foot.”

“When we got there, we could hear the noises of the orcs gettin’ all worked up with this ritual they’d started. We couldn’t get too close without being seen, but even that far out I could tell it was one of the ugliest things I’d seen since those flamin’ flyin’ kobolds spat their goo in my face. The orcs had human prisoners trussed up in front of some warped spellflingin’ shaman, complete with a nasty-lookin’ staff with a flamin’ skull at the end, I think with one of those bloody eye symbols they use on it. Around him, there were these strange-lookin’ orcs that I’d swear looked half human, but also stronger and tougher than your usual orcs.”

“The ceremony was definitely buildin’ up to the end, judging by all the ruckus the orcs were makin’. I was desperate to try and stop whatever was going on, so I got my longbow ready and pulled out a silver-head arrow, hopin’ that even if I couldn’t hit anything from this far, I could maybe distract ‘em with the arrow, or maybe some light shinin’ off the silver. I pulled back and let it fly, and nobody noticed – it hit one of the buildings, but nobody even heard with all the noise. In the meantime, the shaman punches into a prisoner’s chest and pulls his heart out.”

“I felt like I was drenched in sweat by the time I had another arrow notched, and when I let loose it was a really bad shot, not even getting close to reaching the orcs nearest to us. That bastard shaman ripped out another heart from the next poor soul and held it high. We knew whatever flamin’ spell this ritual was starting was about to go off.”

“’We’re runnin’ out of prisoners,’ I growled as I tried to wipe my fingers dry. As I drew another arrow, I told Anya, ‘Anything you can think of that could help out…’ ‘Aim straight, shoot true’ was all she said. I drew back to my cheek and released.”

“Nearest I could tell, it slammed into the shaman square in the chest. At least, all that damn noise stopped. The last thing I think I saw was him falling, then I had dropped the bow and we were running hard as we could outta there. It wasn’t long before we heard the roars of their battle rage building up behind us.”

“For awhile, we thought we might make it, but one of their flamin’ patrols spotted us; a dozen armed riders. Anya asked what I wanted to do, and I said we should try and take one off his horse, then hop on and try to ride outta there. I set my halberd for the charge, and Anya guarded my back, but it was no good. They came in too fast, and a weapon cut into me about the same time that I got a good kick from one of their warhorses. My halberd didn’t come near to any of ’em.”

“I got up with a groan as their horses started to wheel around for another charge. I looked down to see how bad I was bleedin’, and I realized we weren’t likely to live through another pass. That’s when Anya gave me a good shove and yelled ‘Get back to them!’ at me. I knew what she was doin’, but my legs were moving before I could think to stop her, let alone realize that I couldn’t. She had raised her string of orc ears high and was shoutin’ battle cries at them at the top of her lungs. I ducked my head into the tall grass and ran like hell. I heard the sounds of Anya’s last stand behind me as I ran, trying to stay out of sight.”

“I managed to get back to the others unseen, along the way sucking down some of the healing juice that preacher Mazlor had given me to stop the bleeding. When I got to them, and they asked me where she was, All I could make myself say was, ’Anya’s gone’. Mazlor and I found the body later, everything but the head.”

“So here’s to ya, Anya,” Dargellon says, raising his glass in toast, “I hardly knew her, but she gave her life to save mine, even after I swore…” He trails off, a look of pain twisting his face, then drains his glass. Staring off at nothing, he begins again, speaking softly at first, but building in intensity: “Well, it’s a helluva way to go. Gotta hand it to her. Hit your enemies one last time, and save somebody to live to fight another day… Of course, we can’t all be as lucky as old Colgash, to walk out with a flamin’ army straight onto an open field and SIT RIGHT DOWN ON SOME DAMNED ZOMBIES…!”

He throws his empty glass at the far wall with all the force he can muster, shattering it. Ignoring the bellows of the barkeep, he slumps back down into his chair. “All over now. No goin’ back. It.. shoulda been.. me…”

His eyes roll back, and he passes out face-first on the table.

[January 27, 2011]

I have been abed with fever and . . . more unpleasant things . . . for the better part of a week. It is only now, my body finally clear of the contagion of the rat’s bite, that I can think clearly enough to write of the trek that landed me in this bed at the temple in Enonia.

Although Lars, Talos, and I, men of the wilderness all, were particularly interested in determining the truth or falsity of certain rumors about a druid burial mound in the forests north of what used to be the Wayfarers’ Inn, Mazlor, in his wisdom, and Shoeless Joe, in his greed, convinced the three of us it were better to make an expedition to the ancient dwarven mines to the south.

However, on the morn we were to start our trek, Shoeless Joe was not to be found. “Probably drunk in an alley somewhere,” muttered Mazlor. So to augment our numbers Mazlor hired three of the locals who have come to hold him in high regard—some quite high, as we were later to learn.

Chacci seemed a slight man, so we made him torch-bearer only. I was leary of arming Ralath with anything sharper than a club (the man drinks almost as much as Shoeless Joe, if that is possible) but he and Isty, a devout follower of the Light, we made our spearmen/bowmen.

The trip to the mines was uneventful. We entered from the south and soon uncovered the crevasse that leads into the deep mines. We brought enough spikes and rope to leave them there permanently, descended into the mines, and headed east down one of the major mining tunnels.

We made good time, and soon found ourselves in front of a massive spiked door, beyond which was a large room filled with iron tables and benches. There was another door in each of the four walls, and above each door was a strange circular crystal, sort of window-like, embedded with the three-fingered hand sign of the Dark Ones. While we were exploring this room, two rock-men emerged from the floor and accosted us, but they did not survive long under the scything of Lars’ blade or the crushing of Mazlor’s mace.

We continued east, and passing through another massive corridor, we came to another large room—this one with a tower in the middle of it, and a quarter-round tower in each corner. There were four doors in the center tower, one for each cardinal direction, and above each door another of those strange, window-like crystals embedded with an iron symbol of the Dark Ones. A similar door, and similar crystal, was in the center of each quarter-round tower, facing the tower in the middle. This all we determined after making a full circuit of the room. But we first had to deal with the room’s other strange occupant.

We heard the flat sound of metal against stone, like the regular stomp of one metal foot. It was out of sight but in front of us and drawing closer, so I tossed one of Chacci’s torches as far toward it as I could, and in the flicker of light we finally saw it: a metal sphere the size of a man’s head, bouncing in a graceful arch about waist high. As the torch passed over it, the strange sphere stopped and reversed direction, bouncing near the sputtering torch momentarily before coming back toward us.

We had all encountered the other spherical metal monsters of these passages before, so fearing we were about to be attacked, I nocked and loosed one of my cloth-yard shafts. The arrow struck true, but merely glanced off the smooth surface. The sphere came inexorably on, never wavering in rhythm, its pace almost casual. It came right at us—and bounded right through our group without so much as a casual touch. I shouted at it in elvish and then in orcish, but provoked no response. Had any of us known ancient dwarven, we would have tried that tongue. The sphere simply continued on in what we later determined was a regular circuit of the room.

The sphere, while odd, was apparently not a threat, so we turned our attention to the tower in the middle of the room. The door resisted both my attempts and Mazlor’s to open it, but Talos was successful—to his chagrin, as he was immediatley set upon by a swarm of human-faced worms. They shattered his shield, rended his flesh with their mouths, and knocked him down, unmoving, to the stone floor.

Mazlor shouted to Isty to toss oil on the things, and I followed with my torch. The scent of their burning flesh filled our noses as Mazlor and Lars hacked the remaining ones to pieces.

While Mazlor and Lars (and Isty, who was in awe of Mazlor’s healing powers—I’ve never heard anyone, not even Mazlor, chant “Praise be the Light!” so many times) tended to a comatose Talos, I attempted to capture the bouncing metal sphere in one of our large sacks. I fit the sack over the sphere easily enough, but immediately felt its strength. Rather than get dragged around the room, I let the sack and the sphere go. There would be other opportunities to learn more about these spheres later.

With Talos conscious at last, although pale and weakened, we made short work of examining the interior of the tower. A wrought-iron circular stair ran up the middle of the tower to the fifth—and top—floor. Small windows on that floor faced the quarter-round towers in the corners of the larger room. We found some gems in a chest in the top chamber, but—thankfully—no more worm-things. Judging the tower safe and secure, we spiked the doors shut and made camp for the night on the ground floor.

Had we not left the lantern burning, we might not have made our most significant find of the trip. Or, more accurately, we might not have been found.

It was Ralath’s ears that picked up the whispers during his watch, whispers in a musical tongue he did not understand. When he awakened me I, too, heard the whispers—and could not mistake the sound of native elven speech debating whether or not to knock on the door between us.

At this point, more than a week after my illness has passed, it is well-known in Enonia that we rescued two young elves, Avaren and Hiasur, from the dwarven mine. They were the remnants of a larger group who, many weeks or months ago, went into the mines to seal away the Dark Ones. Araven an Hiasur were sent with a contingent of six or so other elves to find the Dwarven Hall of Records. There was some kind of disaster, and this smaller group was separated from the rest of their party. They have been wandering the mines since, looking for a way out. They were weaponless and starving. How they have managed to survive boggles the mind, and they were surprised and relieved to hear that we knew a way out.

Later in the night, we heard one of the spherical, four-legged metal creatures enter the larger outside room, but we did not hear it leave. It came with another bouncing metal sphere. It was, of course, waiting for us in the morning. We prepared for it in the tower, hoping that when it attacked, it would not be able to fit through the door.

It fit through the door easily, attacking me instantly, but giving Mazlor and Lars the opportunity to flank it and attack until it, as usual, exploded with a rush of hot energy.

With almost all of us wounded in some way, and the elves weak and tired, we decided to head back.

In the large tunnel just before the way out, another guardian was waiting for us. It was accompanied by three more bouncing metal spheres. Again, it rushed us, and again we defeated it, taking more wounds, but none of us fell. The smaller spheres never attack, but since they apparently bring the guardians, they are just as dangerous.

The two giant rats waiting for us at the top of the crevasse were no challenge after the guardians, but the wounds they inflicted left me weak and feverish for days afterward.

I am not as fervent in my veneration of the Light as Isty or Mazlor, but I am grateful for the kind care I have received in the temple.

Talos and Teela, excited by the news that the elves were searching for the Hall of Records, have decided that on our next trip to the mines finding it again should be our focus. Teela has been there before, and mentioned many heavy stone tablets with dwarven writing. Talos believes whatever is written thereon could hold some key to vanquishing the Dark Ones. It will take many trips to get those tablets out of the mine, and a horse-drawn cart to get them back to Enonia. I would rather hunt goblins in the forests, but if Talos is right, then our expedition will be worthwhile.

18th Day of Summer, Myself, Jorann, Mazlor, Talos, Irem, Dargellan and Oliphas, along with a multitude of hirelings and henchman set off for the hamlet to the West or Tangorin’s Tower. The going was slow, Irem had worked well at the market and with Sir Yinivax, but with a party of almost 30 and a large supply wagon there was no sneaking around! We took our horses, we may as well be somewhat comfortable.

The end of the first day saw us by the Inn, we did manage to manhandle the wagon through the woods around the Troll bridge. One of the hirelings spotted some flying creatures in the woods, naturally the two rangers went to have a look. Some while later they came back, Dargellan looking a little worse for wear, apparently these creatures were flying Kobolds that could spit poison (I thought the Kobiolds were wiped out byt the goblins….. they must have captured some and are now experimenting with them). No major harm done and we set watches and rested for the night. Two uneventful days later we arrived at the Tower, our base for the raid on the slave market.

We made camp here and then the seven of us went to observe what is happening at the hamlet, we had planned to arrive before the goblins and orcs and prepare a trap. Unfortunately as we approached we could see the smoke from campfires, our timing was wrong. We hung back and Irem went to investigate further. After some time he came back with Anya (as promised she did find us), things were clearly not as expected. We returned to camp and Anya explained there was something big happening, they had arrived some days earlier with lots of boxes, some celebration seemed to be coming soon. More unfortunately instead of being around 30 orcs and goblins, there was more like 90, a significant number being orcs. They also had roving horseback patrols consisting of 12 orcs.

After some discussion we decided to ambush one of the patrols and then wait for the goblins to leave with the humans and then take them out and rescue the prisoners. Anya knew the patrol route so befor daybreak a group of us went out to make an obvious trail across the path to lead the patrol into our ambush. This is where it gets a bit fuzzy, a lot happened quickly. Anya and Dargellan headed off to the hamlet to see what was happening, the rest of us went back to the camp to gather the troops. Having got the troops moving towards the ambush site we rode ahead. Fortunately Oliphas spotted the patrol, and gave us sufficient warning to prepare. They were extremely organized, keeping well out of spell range they surrounded us, then charged, we did get some spells off and cut the odds down but orcs on warhorses is not a good thing. Several got through and we took some damage, for somereason the leader decided to pick on me! Talos did manage to charm him which gave me time to remove myself, but he chased me. Eventually Talos, and I think Irem, tried to rush him. Then a strange thing happened, he saw them and immediately killed himself and then the few remaining orcs killed themselves. We did collect a few items, including nine warhorses.

Two orcs were asleep so we bound them and put them on horses to take back to camp, this activity did wake them. Suddenly a rather beaten up Dargellan appeared, there was no sign of Anya. He began to relay his story. He and Anya had seen two of the prisoners strung up in front of the large building and all the orcs were chanting. A shaman appeared and was clearly in the final throws of an unpleasant ceremony. Dargellan did manage to kill the Sharman with a shot through the heart (no mean feat as he must have been 150 yards away……) but not before the hearts of the two human sacrifices were ripped from their bodies (I hate orcs). Unfortunately this did stir the pot, Anya and Dargellan did manage to clear the area but were eventually found by a patrol. They were ridden down and Dargellan suffered a lot of damage in the initial charge. He told us how Anya then pushed him away, told him to run and then turned to face the reforming patrol……
We headed back to camp. Along the way one of the orcs managed to free himself and before we could stop him he rode off. We trussed up the remaining orc like a mummy, no way he was going to escape! Irem and Skallagrim had gone back to spy on the hamlet, Skallagrim returned to tell us a large party with outriders was heading our way, Irem was taunting them, but apparently nobody was giving chase. Irem retuned and said they went to the ambush site and picked up the bodies then left.

The question was no what? We knew the goblins came fro the woods and should be heading west at some point, if this was a regular occurrence then there should be a track somewhere. It was to the North. We found a suitable place for an ambush. Mazlor and Dargellan went back to the place where he and Anya had encountered the patrol. They found Anya’s headless body, our worst fears were realized, they brough it back, Anya was going to have a proper burial in Enonia. Irem watched the hamlet and after once again harassing the column came back to tell us they were on the move. We prepared out positions and waited. The weirdest thing happened, as we settled down Colgash suddenly stood up and said the earth was moving under him. Poor soul, he was sat upon two Damned. Unfortunately we could not kill them before they got Colgash. The hirelings were getting a little nervous but we calmed them down and soon we heard the goblins coming. The plan worked well, Talos entwined the front section, I put some to sleep in the middle, Mazlor and Jorann held a few and the archers significantly reduced the numbers. One of his body guards grabbed the held leader and chased after the remaining goblins who were running away. The body guard managed to rally them and during the ensuing melee I freed the captives. After some chasing Talos and Mazlor captured the leader and his bodyguards (Entangle is almost as good as Sleep).

We regrouped at the Tower and between the wagon and horses we could transport the emaciated prisoners with some ease. OUR prisoners took their place and carried the beams. We rested, fed and watered the prisoners and then made our way back to Enonia, fortunately it was free of any adventure, with a party this size and several prisoners things could have got very chaotic. As we exited the woods to the West we did spot a group of goblins tracking parallel to us who did not look happy, they left us alone but there are changes afoot.

As we headed into Enonia we met Sir Yinivax with some Royal Knights, he did not seem happy as he sighted the goblins, he knows the shaky truce is over, while he is happy we freed the human prisoners he is concerned that Enonia is now in grave danger. However, upon hearing we have a captured orc he brightens up considerably.. We handed over our prisoners and arranged to meet him shortly…. I fear some serious discussions and decisions are soon to be had.

(an extract from Treen’s journal)

I along with, Oliphas. Teela, Alana, Kee, Irem, Mazlor and Talos (a Druid who has joined our merry band of adventurers) went to rid the monastery of the deformed goblins and in particular kill the Shaman we had last seen on our trip to the crevice. After some discussion we decided to take a handful of henchmen with us to even up the numbers and prevent us from being mobbed.

We had a fairly uneventful trip to the crevice itself, four flying creatures decided to attack us, but they were quickly dispatched. On the way we did notice that the darkness pervading the monastery was dispelled in and around the room of the restored Fountain of the Light. Alas upon reaching the crevice we discovered the A-frame was totally destroyed and the ropes dropped to the bottom. Obviously from our last visit those chasing us had made their way up after us. Fortunately we had more than enough rope and tying some around the stone alter we could descend to the room below. With such a large group it took some time and clearly was difficult to be quiet.

Our original plan was to get to the upper room, cross the river and prepare traps at the tunnel entrances. Unfortunately the Goblins had other plans. As we entered the cavern and cautiously made our way through six goblins stood up on the other side of the river and started to fire crossbows at us. They were organized, working in pairs one as a loader the other to fire. Clearly our plan was ruined and we now had the prospect of a pitched battle. Fortunately we had more cover and managed to make it to the river and with our own bows we started to pick off the crossbowmen. Unfortunately more goblins appeared at the entrances of the tunnels and everything got a little crazy. We started to cross the river at the ford but it was slow going. Irem and Mazlor got across and had several goblins upon them, Irem took several serious hits before Alana could get across to heal him. The goblins kept coming, I put quite a few to sleep and Talos was liberal with his use of Faerie Fire. Soon three large mutated Goblins came out shortly followed by two more and the Shaman, who was carrying the wand we had seen before. As I readied Magic Missiles an arrow flew over my head, one of the Goblins had picked up a dropped crossbow! My Magic Missile was far more effective than I expected and immediately killed the Shaman. What happened next was even more astounding, all the goblins dropped their weapons in surrender and began to wail terribly. We quickly disarmed them and then tied them up, there was talk of killing them, but Mazlor and Alana had some misgivings about this, so we left them tied up, picking one to interrogate. Apart from the wand the Shaman had a pair of evil looking bracers, Talos did detect they were magical… food for thought!

From the Goblin we learned that the Shaman was communicating to the Master, the Goblins where being brought down from above ground to be made ‘perfect’. Apparently the journey to the darkness was by raft along the river flowing on the other side of the caves. We took the Goblin with us and he guided us through the caves showing us the living quarters of the Shaman. There we found his spell-book and a candlestick and added them to the haul. The walls were covered in old, filthy and ragged tapestries – they looked like they had been taken from the monastery above.

We headed to the river through the caves and came across two rafts, unfortunately they would only carry six each, so we sent three henchmen back to the cave with the goblin. We divided the party between the boats. the river was fast flowing so Teela and Kee manned the poles of the rafts. After some time and a rather turbulent ride we saw a web strung across the river. Teela and Kee did an excellent job in stopping the rafts. We tried to burn the web with torches, while it burnt the effect was minimal. Suddenly a wicked looking spider appeared by Kee, strangely it was on its back. Oliphas was about to strike when it disappeared again. Suddenly it re-appeared and lunged for Kee, fortunately missing her. As we struck at it Oliphas took off one of its legs, sending green sticky goo everywhere. Unfortunately this did not kill it and now it seemed enraged and Oliphas became the target. He would have been bitten had he not got his shield in the way at the last minute. The effect would have been fatal judging by the fate of the shield, it burnt up. We struck it some more (I tried to at least) and managed to kill it. We made a big enough hole in the web to get through and carried on. Eventually the river slowed down and we appeared to be in a vast expanse rather than tunnel. We explored the area and found it to be a large cavern, with a tunnel opposite the entrance we had come into. As we explored more we discovered a landing area and a cliff and then some of the large mushrooms. Some of the party thought they knew were this was, others were not sure. Oliphas pointed out it was getting late in the day and we should be heading back, not exploring more.

A long haul back up the river and we made it back to the landing stage. As we headed back to the cavern where we left the goblins tied up and our trusty henchmen we heard the goblins wailing again, this time it sounded happy rather than sad – the sounds of fighting could also be heard, not good signs. We rushed on to discover three mud demons, like the ones we have met before. We attacked them, normal weapons did not bother them and we soon discovered that if you sliced them up they just reformed. Teela put his hand in one to grab the jewel, unfortunately it reformed around him and he was temporarily trapped. Talos and one of the henchmen grappled this one and they eventually managed to push it into the river, where it was washed away. The other two were finally dispatched permanently by Alana’s Spiritual Hammer. Sadly the three henchmen we had left behind were dead.

I must sit down and talk to Teela about those Shaman items, perhaps we should see Parabellum?

As told by Talos to a hushed crowd around the fire in the common room of the Mug and Pot

“We set out from the North gate of Enonia at dawn with a host ready for battle. Our ranks bristled with spear and sword. Sunlight glinted from Shield and Armor. Among our ranks were many of Enonia’s rising stars. Two representatives of the Church of Light – Mighty Mazlor and the Blessed Alana. Two fierce elven warriors, Teela and Kee. The sly Irem and mysterious Treen. And not the least, the silent Oliphas, a fellow lover of the wilds. Seven other brave men of Enonia, looking to make names of their own, filled out our troop.”

“Our mission? To rid the sacred monastery of the taint of the Dark Ones. By mid-day we had arrived and we marched down into the ancient hallways of the old Monastery. Our foot falls rang like hammer blows down the silent hallways and our torchlight was swallowed by pressing darkness. We made for the Altar in the main chapel and found what we sought; two gaping crevices in the marble floors at the foot of the Altar. A foul reek spilled out of the dark holes at our feet.”

“One by one we descended by rope into an enormous cavern below. We pressed on through the dank cavern into an even larger chamber and made our way to a large gap in the ceiling from which a trickle of water poured. This time, our host ascended by rope into a narrow passage, washed smooth and slick by water over untold years.”

“We knew what lay ahead of us. A wide cavern, split by a river and filled with jagged stalagmites like teeth in the mouth of a dragon. On the other side of the river our foes awaited us. Goblins. But not like those green wretches which skulk under the bows of the Darkwood. These were something altogether different and malevolent. Warped and twisted by the magics of the dark ones, these Goblins were strong, cunning and altogether wicked.”

“Our vanguard entered the room cautiously, picking their way from rock to rock when from across the swift river a cry was raised! Leering red faces appeared from behind cover and crossbow bolts whistled and clattered about us. We knew it was only a matter of time before our assailant’s cries brought forth a horde of their brethren. With a word and a gesture, Teela blanketed the minds of the crossbowmen with overwhelming weariness and they fell to the floor in a deep slumber. None remained to oppose us.”

“We rushed toward the treacherous ford knowing that if our whole host could not cross quickly our forces would be divided and crushed by the approaching goblin horde. No sooner had the first of us set foot on the other side of the river than swarms of Goblins swept out of tunnels around us.”

“Sure-footed Irem was the first across and was immediatly engaged by three foes with more goblins rapidly closing. Mazlor, Alana and Teela all crossed the swirling waters and tried to form a line to shield the rest of the troops crossing the river. Oliphas and Kee picked off targets from across the river with their bows. Treen ensorcelled more of the goblins and they slipped into deep sleep.”

“But it was not enough. Still more Goblins poured forth. Irem and Mazlor took grave wounds and a score of Goblins converged on our four man front, threatening to drive them back into the river! Then, to our horror, the great Goblin Shaman and his elite guard emerged from the tunnels. Our forces were split, our front line crumbling and our most powerful adversaries had now just entered the fray.”

“The situation was dire. Then, when things looked darkest, a brilliant flash of light erupted from Treen and streaked across the cavern, striking the Goblin Shaman. The Shamans head turned to pulp, like a rotten tomato under hammer and he fell to the floor lifeless and twitching.”

“In harmony, the horde of Goblins clutched their heads and shrieked. The loss of their master left them momentarily senseless and purposeless. We quickly seized the advantage and rounded up the gibbering goblins under sword point and bound them.”

“We questioned one Goblin to learn only that the Shaman was not the source of evil, only it’s lowly hand-puppet. We learned that we must take rafts and journey down the subterranean river to find the home of ‘the dark’, as our Goblin prisoner called it. So that is what we did. Leaving behind Lersen, Cormore and Marstad to keep a watchful eye on our captives, twelve of us floated toward an unknown evil.”

“As we drifted along in the swift current the fabric of reality around us began to twist. The river flowed at impossible angles and we floated with it. We waited nervously to find out whether or not we would be turned upside down and be dashed against the ceiling or pitched forward over what was surely a waterfall… But it never happened. “

“Eventually we drifted into a massive chamber which radiated a sickly purple light. Stretching across the chamber was a massive spider web. Our pole bearers anchored our rafts in place as we stared aghast at the web and shuddered at the thought of a creature that could have spun such a thing. But it was not long before its creator made itself known.”

“A massive spider shimmered into existence on the edge of our raft mere feet from where I stood! The monster’s eyes locked onto the diminutive Teela, thinking her an easy meal. But lads, let me tell you, you have not met her match in any man in Enonia! While still holding onto the pole that anchored us in the river current she ducked and dodged her way out from under pulsating red fangs, dripping with deadly venom!”

“From the center of the raft, stout Oliphas reared back and dealt a stunning blow to the spider! Wounded and enraged it lunged at him, dripping green ichor from a gaping wound. The chitinous shell of the creature turned our sword blows as it bore Oliphas to the ground and bit down with it’s fearsome fangs! In the nick of time Oliphas managed to wedge his shield between himself and the deadly attack. The fangs locked onto the shield and the wood melted to jelly with it’s virulence! As we distracted the spider from it’s prey with glancing strikes, Oliphas rolled out from underneath. On his feet again Oliphas reared back and struck true a second time and the grotesque thing screeched, fell into the water and sank out of sight.”

“Exhausted from battle and not knowing what more lay before us we turned our rafts around and made our way back to our Goblin prisoners. Returning to the cavern we found, to our horror, that demons had overtaken the watchmen we had left behind and were devouring them! My companions were clearly prepared for these foul things; for they came bearing silvered weapons, knowing well that cold steel would not harm them. The fury of the light was something to behold as Alana and Mazlor clashed with the demons and vanquished their foes!”

“With Teela at my side we slashed at a demon which collapsed into a pile of mud only to reform and strike at us over and over again! Enraged I threw myself onto the creature and pinned its arms to it’s sides. Together with Teela, Aldred and Killas we wrestled the creature to the brink of the river and threw it in, to be dashed against the jagged rocks as it was washed away.”

“Solemnly we bore the bodies of our fallen comrades out of the caverns and back to Enonia. Rest well, brave sons of Enonia. The darkness may not be overthrown yet, but with your help we have cut off it’s right hand. One day soon we will come back for it’s head.”

Great was the rejoicing in Tangorin’s shrine when Jorann returned from her journey to the Tower.
For she told a tale of much adventure!
I set off on the 33rd day of spring with my trusted companions of Mazlor the cleric, Irem the rougue, Treen the mage, Oliphus the ranger and a new adventurer Bramblebeard the druid. Also included in this adventure were a couple of hired adventurers, Chacci & Colgash.
Unfortunately, for them, we stumbled upon a group of Kobalds and sent the druid forward to parley with their leader. Apparently talks did not go well as Bramblebeard cast entangle on half of their party and a fight ensued.
I must admit, I was displeased with this as I had hoped to aid the kobalds perhaps in some guerrila type attacks against our common foe of the Goblins, but such was not to be. Then to my shame while I was busy tieing the leader whom mazlor held by spell, the druid killed all of the defenseless entangled Kobalds. He then while talking to the leader, whom it must be admitted, did not seem to be very likely to be of any help, he plunged his spear through his chest. I was forced to explain that this was not very acceptible to us and beginning fights when we were trying to parley and killing poor defenseless Kobalds does not Further the righteous cause of restoring Tangorin’s name to the world. I should point out that the rest of the party all seemed in agreement that this was not our intention.
After an otherwise fairly uneventful search for the Tower, it was found again without too much trouble. Once there I prayed to Tangorin and was rewarded with a vision of a hole in the ground off to the south east surrounded by 15 human size stone formations in 2 groups and a rectangular stone in the center. This was exactly what I was looking for as Tangorin had sent me a dream that I had to free his words which I was sure were in this stone.
So after a good night sleep in the temple (which my friend Colgash helped me clean), we set off to the south west. It took most of the day but the ranger spotted the stone forms and we approached.
My friend Irem stealthily scouted the area and came back running with 2 Cockatrices chasing him. A few moments later a 3rd appeared and battle was joined. The beasts were very tough and due to the fact that they were flying it was very difficult to hit them. Only missile weapons (which due to the winds were less accurate than usual) and whomever was being attacked could hit them. Irem used a grappling hook to bring one to earth, but since Bramblebeards entaglement could not hold it we continued to missile it to death. Treen was hit by one and we felt the ground beneath her ripple, but fortunately she shook off the effect. I should point out that Treen used her darts to great effect on him. Finaly after much damage the other 2 flew away and left us to their lair.
Which was completely empty (and smelled truly foul).
I, however, knew exactly what to do and strode forward with the grace of Tangorin upon me I smote the stone with my hammer and uncovered an ancient chest. Unfortunately it was locked and Irem could not pick it. So we decided to check the other mounds in case there might be people inside them. We found the remains of 15 people one of which was clearly a cleric of The great and magnificent Tangorin. We recovered a number of valuable items, the greatest of which were on the cleric for he had on the vestments of Tangorin, plus a golden torque with Tangorin’s symbols upon it and a holy mace also bearing Tangorins symbols! Great was my joy to see these treasures uncovered.
As it was growing late, we went back to the towere to rest, and in the morning Irem was able to open the chest revealing The Parchment containing The Words Of Tangorin! I immediately took this up to the top of the temple and prayed to my lord Tangorin. The whole party could feel the Blessing of Tangorin upon us all day. I could tell that it would take weeks of study to fully comprehend these words and vowed that I would study them as soon as possible.
We then set off back to Enonia, and the journey back was uneventful. Once we got there I begged the group to take all the other spoils, but please do not contest me for the holy artifacts of Tangorin, as I could not bear to see them in the hands of any who do not worship his name. I was greatly relieved that they agreed.
Since they had agreed, I felt obliged to acompany them as they chose to go back towards the Tower, since they wished to explore the hamlet to the east. We arrived without very much adventure and Irem sneaked up and saw a dozen orcs and goblins had somewhat restored the main building and we were considering luring them out to an ambush when we noticed a figure. We spoke with this person whom we realized was the mysterious orc-slayer. This person told us that there were 30 – 40 orcs and goblins within, and that once a month they met here so the goblins could sell slaves to the orcs. We decided to we would have to come back next month to free the slaves as we did not have the manpower to do it yet. Thus we returned home to Eononia with the only adventure being a bunch of spiders which attacked us in the dalewoods as we slept. Treen was gravely wounded, but the grace of Tangorin healed her and we were assured a week of rest and she will be good as new.
So now I am free to study the words of Tangorin!

Bless my beard, but we’ve had a rough time of it in the Eastern Borders of late. I daresay it will take the full strength of the gods, both old and new, to turn back the looming threat in the wilderness. Our outlook is even more dire after this most recent foray into the wilderness.

In the waning days of winter, I set out with Jorann, Dargellon, Oliphus, Treen and Mazlor to seek out Tangorin’s Shrine, from whence Jorann hoped to receive mystical visions. Heading east on the road — a mere trail of broken rocks through the dense forest, in truth — we avoided the troll bridge and came upon the abandoned wayfarers’ inn by the end of the day. It had been utterly destroyed, and footprints around the site pointed to the involvement of the dragon that has been menacing the skies of late. We wisely decided not to tarry, but continued our quest northeast toward Tangorin’s shrine.

Our next waypoint was a ruined manor house situated in the grasslands just east of the Darkwoods. We found a few trinkets of value here, which suggests that further exploration may be in order. We stayed but one night behind its collapsed walls before continuing northeast toward the shrine.

On our third day in the wilderness, a deep, frigid cold swept through the region, chilling us to the bone and hampering our progress through the grasslands. After a half-day’s journey northeast, we came upon a small thorpe — and beheld a crew of vicious orcs milling around in the central courtyard!

Suicidal bravado gripped our party, and we charged blindly into battle astride our noble steeds. I, along with Dargellon and Oliphus, met the enemy head on, but our charge was stymied by the cruel machinations of the orcs — they carried death-sticks that spat smoke and fire, chewing through armor and flesh alike. Unhorsed, I flung my enchanted warhammer through the air in a vain attempt to smite the fusiliers, but it was to no avail — a third volley of fire battered into me, and I fell insensate to the ground.

When I came to, the battle was over and my party was preparing to depart with all haste. I gathered that an orc had escaped — on mine own horse, no less! — and was doubtless on his way to rally reinforcements. In my weakened state, I could do little more than cling to the saddle was we headed west, toward the safety of Enonia.

One last detour remained before we returned. In the Darkwoods, we sought out the mysterious trollkin, who appeared and told us, in their childish ways, that the elves stationed at the abandoned mines had been slaughtered by the orcs. This troubled us deeply, as the mines were a mere half-day’s march from Enonia! Armed with this grim news, we hastened back to Enonia to inform the Marshall via Yinivax, his castellan.

We had intended to bring back both an orcish prisoner and two of the accursed death-sticks to show the marshal, but my faith got the better of me — Vanir, the Voice on the Northern Wind, appeared to me in a vision, cursing us for retrieving the death-sticks and ordering me to destroy them and to kill the prisoner at once. He revealed that the orcs — marked as they were with the sign of a great eyeball — served a dark god, just as I served Vanir. Thus they were certainly religious zealots who believed they were doing the dark work of their lord. We killed the prisoner and cast bless on the firearms, causing them to explode.

(((FOR PCs ONLY)))Back in Enonia, we got a shock whilst delivering our customary report to Yinivax. The castellan informed us that the marshal had suffered a breakdown and was no longer in command of either his own faculties nor of Enonia’s garrison. Yinivax himself held the frontier town together, and he intimated that he relied more and more on our reports from the dark wilderness.(((FOR PCs ONLY)))

We vowed to redouble our efforts in this, and set out after a week’s rest to investigate reports that the elves occupying the mines were indeed dead.

(((FOR PCs ONLY)))Alas, it was all too true. A well-built palisade in the clearing outside the mine entrance showed signs of a pitched battle, with slain horses and elves piled everywhere. No dead orcs were to be found anywhere. Perhaps they carried off their dead to perform unspeakable burial rites? Perhaps dead orcs turned to dust after sundown? We had no way of knowing. Indeed, after poking around the mines a bit more, we left with more questions than answers.(((FOR PCs ONLY)))

It appears that a storm is gathering over Enonia, and its strength and fury may prove to be the doom of us all.