Characters: The Irregulars
The Ranger's Gate (2019-2020)
Jerek Stonewall
My name is Jerak Stonewall. My grandpappy is Heron Stonewall, and he taught me everything I know about being a knight. He taught me how to fight, and he taught me how to act like a true knight. Taught me about honor and protecting those who can’t fight for themselves. He knew all about this because he was a knight of The Order of the Knights of King Gregory. Most people out here in the Bogs don’t believe him, but I do. He says he was a Knight of Merit, and that he served King Gregory directly. He gave me his ring, a gold band with a star sapphire, to prove his claim, and I wear it around my neck until I am worthy enough to wear it.
Three months ago, we got word in the Bogs that there was a demon incursion just to our south in Portsmith. Word is that the warriors of the kingdom were unable to close the Covenant back up, and that the demon horde was spreading. This news was horrendous to hear, and I told my father that I had to help. Grandpappy knew this, and said he would have joined me if he could, but his back hadn’t been right for years. Apparently, the downside of living life fighting from the back of a Skye pony. He gave me his blessings, and told me to go to Teufeldorf, where I was to find the King and pledge myself to service, just as he had before. I grabbed my gear, got on my noble steed, Horse, and made my way for the big city.
The journey was arduous, and I would hear stories from each town I passed about the carnage that the recent war had created. This only strengthened my resolve. I reached the gates on the morning of the 1st of March, and went to the city guard to tell them I wished to speak to the King. They promptly laughed at me and told me to get lost. So now I am stuck trying to get myself into a war to protect the people I care about, with no way to get an audience with the one man who can verify my father’s stories. Tell me that my grandpappy wasn’t just some fool riding a pony.
Telek Eiy Netic
Telek Eiy Netic, Telly to the people close to him, was born. We're not really sure exactly when or where but he claims Portsmith as his home. He spent his first few years growing up in the Flotsam Orphanage run under the strict care of the Church of the Silver Throne. Not a fan he took to the streets, finding it easier to steal food, clothing, and anything else he might need.
He met and befriended a young boy that claimed his father was an expert thief. The boy taught him what he had been taught by his father. Telly caught on very quickly, often being told that his hands were rather deft for such a young gnome. The young boy saw that Telly was getting too good, or maybe too cocky, and stole all that Telly had acquired in their short time as friends and ended the relationship. Throughout their time together though, Telly discovered playing cards and fell in love. The craftsmanship, the artwork, the way they feel, and the tricks and games that you could play with them. He became obsessed.
One day Telly thought that he should try to learn how to make these flimsy things that he just couldn't get over. How? Well, by stealing a set of artisan's tools from the local carpenter at Regent Woods. Woody the gnome master carpenter and owner had other ideas. Catching Telly in the act, and seeing himself in this young gnome that had nothing, decided to offer the boy an apprenticeship, and also, a home. Telly saw the opportunity and took it.
For years, the two worked together. Making things, fixing things, and over time Telly learned to craft and build a great many things. He got his wish, he learned to craft playing cards and made more than anyone would bother to count. Well, Telly reckons its somewhere in the thousands at this point for sure. He only keeps 5 or 6 full sets of 54 on or around him at a time. Usually in individual pouches made just for cards attached to his belt. Many nights were spent at pubs or inns running games of poker or swindling people out of money with sleight of hand games.
Until. Until one insane day. On the way from one job to another, the absolute craziest thing happened. A portal opened up in the middle of town and demons started pouring through. They started causing all sorts of problems for all sorts of members of the town. Not knowing why it happened but knowing he couldn't leave Woody alone, he booked it back to shop. Arriving on the scene he noticed the door open and noises coming from inside. He pulled a hammer from his tool belt and held it ready. Stuck in the corner of the room holding the lid of a barrel as a shield was Woody, being relentlessly attacked by a smallish cave wight . Wanting to lure the demon away from Woody to run for better protection Telly yelled at the demon. Panicking, knowing that Woody was not going to hold much longer, Telly cocked his arm back ready to throw. What the hell was going on? What was this strange feeling he had? It felt like, his spirit, no that's not quite right, his, essence? Maybe, that sounds a little closer. This, energy is flowing from Telly into his hammer, no, not into, around the hammer, forming almost a halberd type point on the top of the hammer. What the.....? It feels, it feels so right. Screaming and hurling with all his might Telly sends the hammer and the otherworldly energy surrounding it flying towards the demon. Thinking, "man I hope this gets his attention." It speeds through the air. It strikes true. Piercing the demon, creating a hole straight through its chest and impaling it to the makeshift shield. It screamed an ear-shatteringly awful noise and died. Slowly fading back to the realm of the demons. They spent the rest of the invasion just trying to stay safe.
Now his life is forever changed, it turns out, Telek Eiy Netic is a bit of a telekineticist. Who knew? After some messing around he learned that he could do all kinds of little tricks. Floating things to him instead of getting up to grab things. Tipping an occasional chair in the bar to watch people flail around before they inevitably fall. Maybe saving a few the trip all the way to the ground. And of course, forming it into a weapon around objects. Telly decided that throwing things was better suited to his tiny frame, and he was kind of good at it. And what better to throw than these easy to make playing cards he fancies so much. Telly also wanted to help people. He wanted to explore these new powers. He wanted to adventure and earn. At least enough money to open his own shop. He felt a need to search out some of the rarest woods, inks, and soft metals to make and design the most premium playing cards that ever existed. Now he feels this, wanderlust. Feeling inspired, and with a little nudging from Woody, he decides to head to Teufuldorf. Fun and opportunity await.
Oh my goodness. What the hell is that? It's large, its white, and its FLUFFYYYY!!!!!!! Telly, nearing the end of his journey from the east, has met a large white sheepdog, with a small hobbit carrying a lance riding atop a saddle on his back. What will they get into together?
Spring Silverbark
My family had lived in the town of Everdoom in the Barony of Wickham for several generations. When Jonah Willby proclaimed independence from the Crown, strange things were happening in town - lights dancing in the forest, fleeting shadows flicking about town, and a walking sickness casting a pallor on the townspeople.
My father fled "the plague of pure evil" into the Endless Forest where he met my mother, a wood elf. I was born a year later. When I was just a child, my father left the forest and brought me to Freeport where we traveled north by ship to Teufeldorf.
Neptune Ganymede
I was born in a small commune called “Sunflower” 23 years ago. My mother had been born there too. It was a great place to grow up, lots of space and everyone was a brother or sister to each other among the children. The adult men were all called “father”, but everyone only has one mother. The other women were called “aunts” because in reality we were one big happy family. This always seemed the way it should be to me and I grew up part of a community filled with love amongst the 255 people that lived in Sunflower. I usually won most games we played as a child except maybe the ones that required pure strength, that Seabreeze Rosewood was one big girl. I learned lessons quickly and was very good with my hands. Anytime anything broke I was always quick to volunteer to help fix it. You won’t find our community on any map as we usually kept to ourselves only trading with other towns when absolutely needed. I was about to earn my title for what I would do for our community 2 years ago when tragedy struck.
Whose army it was I do not know but one day everything changed. I was out fishing with three of my friends one morning because it was our turn to gather supper for everyone. When we got back to our community there was crying and fire and lots of pain. Our idyllic little Sunflower was now a war zone. I had never seen someone struck down by such violence and malice. I rushed to find my mother. Our house was almost burned to the ground, everything gone. I rushed inside and did not see her. That was when I heard the worst noise, I have ever heard out back near the well. I ran faster than I ever had to get there. My Mom was lying on the ground, covered in blood, screaming in pain. I held her and tried to figure out what had happened and how was she hurt. It didn’t take a cleric to see the stab wounds once I wiped away some of the blood. There was nothing our little group of people could have done to help her now even on a good day and today was not a good day.
She told me with her dying breath that she wanted me to know who my birth father was. She had met him in the woods when she was 21. He was out hunting and had gotten lost and was wondering through the forest. She brought him into the community and feed him. He stayed for a couple weeks and they grew close and eventually fell in love. He was a minor noble who had been on a diplomatic mission to Teufeldorf. He had to return to the real world because his family and kingdom depended on him to help prevent the genocide of his people. He begged my Mom to go with him, but the outside world was something that she and her parents had fled for some reason and she could not go back. She did not elaborate further. She told me Sunflower was no longer safe for me and that I needed to make my way to the big city and learn new ways. If I could find my father and his family, they could help. She gave me her locket and said inside was they key to finding my father. I always thought it was way beyond the craftmanship of Sunflower and incredibly complicated. It had always been more than my skills at the time to open the thing and Mom never told me what was inside. She said she was struck from behind and never saw the attack or her attacker. She had crawled to where she was because she had to see me one more time. She made me promise to run, run right away and never look back. I promised and with that final exchange she smiled and then she was gone.
I ran, leaving everyone and everything I knew behind. I made a vow to go back someday and help rebuild and check on the survivors. Sunflower was about a week’s journey on foot to the big city. I have been here about 2 years. With armies fighting and not knowing who might be after me I learned to hide rather quickly. Having nothing but a locket and the clothes on my back I also learned to borrow from others. I have tried to only take what was needed and only from those that deserved it. I have moved around a lot since I got here. I am hopeful this new group of people I have met might finally be the ones to help me out. I have been bullied, robbed beaten by both those that claim to be good and by those who are truly evil. I hope I can finally have some friends and people I can trust. So many questions and no answers yet, I hope they are all smart too.
Malika Salem
Malika grew up on the Teufeldorf fisherman's wharf, in the Old Harbour. A paradoxically delicate tomboy, she was smaller and weaker than the other children her age. Fierce willpower coupled with wit and wisdom allowed her to survive. Her father was taken by the sea when she was just seven. Some said he went to be with the Gyre, but her mother said "He was just bein' a damn fool goin' out in such a squall!" Malika and her siblings took on more responsibility in the family fishing business and the family scraped by. One of Malika's jobs was to cut the heads off the fish so her mother could scale, bone and fillet them. There was a knife for this job, but she preferred using her father's hand axe, a tool she kept with her always, mostly to remember him, but also because she really liked that axe.
Malika was fascinated by life, in all its various forms. She had a "pet" crab that had a home in the sandy shallows near the docks, stray cats and dogs were always fed various fish parts that she scrounged from the cutting room. Hurt animals were always taken in, nursed back to health, and released into the wild - or not, depending on how attached she got. There were other pets, of course: snakes, crickets, mice, rats, rabbits, eels, raccoons, and once a badger. She didn't always save them. Life on the docks is a knife's-edge business, and you can't save every life. In those cases, so that something good or useful might come, and in order to learn, a sacrifice must be made.
And Malika loved to learn.
She carried her father's hand axe with her everywhere, both for protection and because you never know when you might want to show off by hitting a bulls-eye at 20 paces. The wharf rats gave her the nickname "Mali Hatchet" despite her protests that it was really not a hatchet. She occasionally fought the children who called her such names, but given her size and strength... and the fact that she usually tried to fight the biggest kid, she got beaten up a lot. Her nursing skills were useful in hiding the bruises and scrapes from her mother, who wanted her youngest child to be - unlike the mother - a proper young lady who might catch the eye of some rich merchant.
As Malika grew older, she shot up in height, though still slender and not very strong. She began to see the wisdom of avoiding fights, which pleased her mother, and instead turned on a newfound charm to get her way. Her mother now took her into the city to deliver fish, because she could bring a better price. Sometimes she would send Malika to nicer parts of the city alone, in hopes something might happen with a merchant. Indeed, something did. Malika discovered the Dusk House at the end of Poe Close. A dark alleyway shrouded a magical doorway that beckoned to her with its ancient engravings and creaking hinges.
Following a crone inside, she cautiously entered, not knowing what might be hidden within. She found a second home. Malika came to understand the Dusk House found initiates for the Temple of Shadows. After her first donation to the coffers, she noticed that the returning fishing boats were heavier, her mother's health improved, and she was getting better prices. When she skipped a tithe, her dog went missing. Double the pennies next time and the dog came back.
Her mother thought she must be seeing a man, and was doubly disappointed when Malika told her the truth. "Temple of Shadows is not a good place! Ela is not good!" she shouted, then forbade Malika from going to the temple. But of course, Malika couldn't stop - her family's fortunes depended on her devotion. For a while, she lied to hide her secret, but her mother is no fool, and finally gave her an ultimatum. Malika sadly left her family home and went to the temple, hoping to become a priest.
Korag Blackice
Vengeance is a dish best served cold.
A thunderous report broke through the night, another pine shattering as the chill air bit hard. “They’ll be coming soon”, rumbled elder Korgul. “The men are ready. They will fall to our steel!”, growled Kornak, Korgul’s son and master smith for the tribe. Korgul grunted, not so sure, but determined to let Kornak’s confidence and determination bolster the tribe.
Father and son left the warmth of the long house, immediately assaulted by air devoid of any warmth. The night air was too cold to support any moisture and the stars blazed clearly above. Except to the north where a storm approached eating the stars one by one.
The men stood above the pitch filled trench, the bright steel of their swords and axes reflecting the torchlight. The women readied their bows, steel tipped arrows thirsty for blood. The air became still, a blanket of silence falling on the waiting figures.
The wall of fury approached, and then struck the line, a hammer of wind and ice. The outline of giant shapes, the walkers, crystalized into the enigmatic monsters themselves. But, unlike other migrations, they were not alone. Demonic shapes formed of pure crystal, barely visible ran at the walkers heels. Undaunted, faith in the secret of steel strong, the Korglanders swung on the approaching figures.
As each sword or axe struck its mark, the bright steel exploded, showering them all with brittle shards. The demons struck, reaching out a translucent hand to touch each defenders heart. One by one the humans flesh turned clear, only the steel slivers embedded by the destruction of their weapons remaining solid.
Their numbers dwindling, the men lost hope. The women fired steadily but the demons proved immune to their missiles. Soon the line was breached and the demons were among the women, wreaking their havoc.
Kornak’s weapon, the great axe Walker Bane, imbued with all the powers available to him, withstood the icy touch of the demons for a time. But each strike chilled it a bit more until it too shattered. Kornak fought on, using the wood handle as a club, but his heart fell as he faced his own father, now transformed. He had no choice but to destroy his father or die. In agony he called on the spirit of Korgsland, promising not only his own service but that of all generations to come if only he could be granted the power to defeat his enemies and revenge his now devastated tribe.
At first his cries and promises vanished into the fury of the storm. He was beset on all sides by demons and transformed, no longer able to do any more then fend them off for a time. Just as he felt he could keep up the defense no longer, an enormous polar bear swept his attackers away like so many leaves with one mighty swipe. A icy blue light emanated from the bears eyes. A walker strode forward to do battle and the bear leapt up in a mighty bound, rending its throat with its teeth.
The walkers and their demonic allies sensed that this was an enemy they could not face and with supernatural quickness, they withdrew under cover of their storm, taking the transformed with them. The great bear turned to Kornak, its eyes demanding and merciless. Kornak got to his knees and bowed his head to the earth. The bear came closer, jaws wide and Kornak knew what was required. He put his head in the jaws of the great spirit, and as the last thing he felt was their closing.
When he awoke, he was utterly alone in the village of his birth. There were no signs of attackers or defenders. No bodies, no corpses, not even the children who had been sheltered in the long hall were to be found. He was unharmed and in fact felt a great energy coursing throughout his body. No signs of damage although the memory of those great jaws closing on him was clear. At first he lingered in the village, but soon the absences of the others became a palpable pain, and so he gathered a few things, including the stock of Walker Bane, and set out south.
He eventually came across another village that accepted him as one of their own. He met a women, fell in love and had a family of his own. It seemed he would be able to live out his life in joy, but a dark shadow fell over the new village, with people disappearing with increasing frequency. Kornak found himself waking up out in the wilderness covered in blood. At first he tried to deny what was plain to see. The great spirit was taking him, and using him to hunt innocents. This then, was the price he must pay for his vengeance.
The village elders met and determined that a dark curse was on Kornak. Not wanting to cross whatever dark power infested him, they exiled Kornak and his family, dooming them to a life of wandering. Kornak traveled further and further south, hoping to outrun the reach of the great spirit, but no matter where they went, eventually he would once more wake up covered with the blood of innocents. Meanwhile Kornak taught his son and daughter never to rely on the steel that had failed him so. Instead they learned to use their bodies as weapons.
Both children carried the curse, proving out that he was being held to the promise he had made. Greata, embraced the spirit as a gift. She learned to control the transformations and took great joy in the hunt. The more pure and innocent the prey, the more she enjoyed it. She shunned the villages, except as hunting grounds.
Korald, his son, fought against the dark urges, using meditation and training to control the dark urges. At first he thought he had overcome the curse. He settled long enough to found a family of his own, but then one cold night he lost the battle to the great spirit and slaughtered dozens.
Ashamed, he chose self-exile, abandoning his own wife and son, leaving behind only Walkers Bane, bequeathed to him by his father in hopes that one day the family would be worthy of it once more. Kornak had reshaped it as a carven staff. However, its power was no longer open to him as long as he held the curse.
Wealda, alone with her child Kornak, decided the only way to break the chain was to send her toddler away to the southlands across the sea. She paid one of the merchants from Tuefeldorf to take her son, leaving him only a handful of gold and Walker’s Bane.
Ignorant of its potential, Korag kept it throughout the years as his only link to a forgotten family. He was filled with an overwhelming desire to master himself. Perfecting his body and mind through discipline. He had rumors of monasteries devoted to perfection in the pursuit of martial arts. Slinging Walkers Bane over his shoulder he headed into the city.
The Siren's Song (2018-2019)
Returning from the Voyage of the Wanton Wench are Chrionomous, Java, Wrane, Nomed, and Finnegan. New crew members include:
Scylla
Details forthcoming...
Christof Jonah (CJ) Purifoy
Originally hailing from the March of Greenvale, Christof Jonah Purifoy grew up on a farm just north of Axewood. Whether tilling the soil with his father and three older brothers, hunting in the woods, taking on friends and neighbors in games of strength and speed, or courting the lovely girls of the nearby villages, CJ was relentlessly competitive. His successes grew as he did.
At twelve, he downed the largest buck anyone could remember. Not two years later, he hurled the throwing stone five paces farther than any other competitor in the harvest festival games. His father privately boasted as to how his youngest was twice the farmer he was, and three times that of his brothers combined! But without even a modest inheritance in his future, friends and family began to suggest what he might do when he came of age.
"Church of the Hearth priests live very comfortable lives!" his mother alleged one Sunday afternoon, as the portly Father Ren jovially patted his stomach in agreement. Later, Ren expounded upon the years of training he had endured to reach the pinnacle of being a parish priest serving seven small villages.
One harvest festival, a stranger tried to convince him to take his talents to the Collegium Magicium, where they would surely make a great Battle Wizard of him. Unfortunately, someone overheard, and soon a mob chased the wizard halfway to the Blackwater.
The local blacksmith had a less aspirational pitch. "Ye could be me apprentice."
Thane, CJ's oldest brother, and heir to the farm, offered a room in the barn, "...and you could marry one of my best pigs."
But before any of those dreams could come true, his life changed. The summer before his sixteenth birthday, he was planting winter wheat next to the Mills farm while lovely Heather washed clothes on her back porch. Her father and two brothers were harvesting corn near the house. Idly watching Heather pin clothes to the line, he nearly strayed from a straight furrow. Suddenly she shrieked and fell in a heap. Dropping his plow handle, he raced across the fields as her family did the same, corn knives in hand. By the time her father reached her, CJ had already placed a tourniquet around her leg and was carrying her into the homestead. A headless snake lay writhing in the dirt nearby. Heather recovered, thanks to CJ's quick actions. Too quick, neighbors began to say. Inhuman speed. Magical, most likely. The whispers grew louder, and the rumour grew in the telling. Soon he was part orc, dragon blood flowed in his veins, and he could call down lightning on his enemies!
Father Ren suggested he join the Gran March militia garrisoned in Five Forks, telling them nothing of what had happened here. Not wanting to leave his home country, he instead traveled to Greenvale. Two years later, while guarding the horses of a visiting nobleman, a similar event occurred, and new rumours swirled in the barracks. He was asked to resign from the militia. The folk of Greenvale do not appreciate magic.
The visiting dwarven nobleman appreciated CJ's efforts, however, and hired him as a bodyguard. Representing Durinshold, and set to negotiate a comprehensive trade agreement with the Eastern Reaches, he was a powerful and important dwarf. For four years, CJ guarded his horses, his regal carriage, his luggage, and eventually his lordship's person.
Portsmith was a fascinating place in the summer of 907 TA. Jana Blackfire, the Crusader of Portsmith, had assumed control of the city, and CJ's lord and master had tried for two months to gain audience with her to no avail. Then his senior-most bodyguard was arrested for making a disparaging remark regarding the Order of the Silver Throne. The charge was a lie, of course, but the city guard no longer cared for due process, if they ever did. Twist, the dwarf most responsible for CJ's current level of professionalism in his chosen career, was a man of few words, and none careless. Twist's few weeks in "The Vault" were marked by increasingly reckless - for his lordship - attempts at diplomacy by CJ's lord, culminating in an angry exchange with one of Blackfire's deputies wherein mild threats were made, and the lord himself was brought to the Vault in chains. CJ demanded he be allowed to continue to serve his master during his incarceration, and so found himself witnessing the dwarf lord being branded with the mark of The Gavel. Justice Henry Meekson dispensed this "justice," but refused to give CJ the same brand, despite CJ's insistence that he was as guilty as his lordship - that is, not at all. The Justice deemed CJ an innocent in this matter. Twist was not so lucky. A few days later, his branded and beaten body was found in a gutter behind the Lantern and Gargoyle.
His lord paid a healer a great deal of gold coin to nurse Twist to enough health for travel, but nothing could be done for his severe head injuries. Meanwhile, a group of rebels had begun to stir things up in the city...
...and eventually he's eating stew on a boat, after having been separated from his employer because of reasons...
Voyage of the Wanton Wench (2017-2018)
Chironomous
My family held an independent homestead to the north of Havelock's Keep for generations. We farmed the land and fished the Inner Sea. We hosted pirates and kings, fey and the little people, keeping peace with all.
Then when I had barely become a man, the Orcs of the Bloody Claw began their raids. The pirates of Havelock’s Keep were long gone, so we sought the protection of the so-called “King” Ernest Goodfellow. We offered all of our family’s fortune in return for his action against the orcs. He accepted our “gifts” readily enough, but no help came.
My mother was taken early on, after which my father was a broken shell of a man. He couldn’t muster the will to defend the family and one by one, our family was taken by the orcs, until only I remained. When they came at last for me, I was ready to die. The leader of their raiding party came close enough to me that I could smell his fetid breath. He stared at me in silence. He then grunted out something in their foul language, barked out a guttural laugh, and walked away.
I screamed at the orc, throwing myself on his broad back, but he shrugged me away as you might a child and the ground knocked the breath out of me. I lay there for some time, watching them fade into the distance. Finally I rose and walked to the highest peak of our small island. Looking down at the waves I felt a strong sense of warmth and welcome, so I stepped off.
Falling through the air was the most peaceful experience I had ever had, however the sea was neither warm nor welcoming, and the last thing I remember was the shock of cold before the dark claimed me.
I returned to this life, gasping for air as I was hauled out of the sea by an elderly man with a deep and enigmatic gaze. He told me I was in Portsmith, delivered to him by the Gyre, the all-powerful god of the sea. I gazed at him uncomprehending. Portsmith? Portsmith was over 300 miles from my ancestral home! I barely heard him invite me to learn more about the Gyre at an upcoming ritual. He pressed a silver coin into my hand with the symbol of the whirlpool on both sides. I don’t remember much about the days between my “landing” and that night. I do recall barely arriving when the peaceful meeting was raided by armored thugs led by one Jana Blackfire, whom it turns out is merely a lackspittle of Ernest Goodfellow… My watery savior urged me to swallow my coin just before I was beaten unconscious by Jana’s jackboots…
Java
As a young bird, my home was at a coffee plantation near Keelhaul in the Wilderlands. I have always been fascinated by sounds. One day, I was eating coffee beans (my favorite) from a tree near the humans when I heard a young man whistling a tune in many pitches at the same time. Intrigued, I followed him back to his home - an old tower filled with books and things.
The young man fed me - which was nice. But, most importantly, he made the most interesting sounds - not just human speech, but strange sounds. He could sound like any creature - or many creatures. He could also make things appear out of nothing. It was a wonderful time.
In time, the young man, named Jareth, undertook an ocean voyage with barrels of coffee, and I eagerly went with him - the sounds aboard ship were breathtaking. After many ports, I arrived in Portsmith.
Two nights ago, Jareth was reading in our room at the Inn. The door burst open and five armored men grabbed him. Their leader, a woman dressed in blue and silver robes - gaunt, pale, and silent - ordered his possessions taken. I tried to spray her with color, but it didn't work. Suddenly, I felt sleepy.
I awoke in a stone room. A silver chain has been put on my foot, and a strange clip in my wing makes flight difficult. I must escape.
Nomed Oppenheimer
I never knew my parents. First thing I remember is the orphanage, in eastern Rembia. I learned early on that because of my physical traits, I had to look after myself, as I was harassed by the humans every day of my life. The only person who saw me as something other than a monster was the local healer Cawn. She saw potential in me, and taught me what she knew, how to infuse a piece of yourself into a potion to make it work, how to extract different venoms and how to create salves. She also taught me some more, explosive, extractions, to be used only in the direst need. Just as I was starting to get a hold of my new powers, Cawn was taken by the village. They disapproved of training a “demon”, and burned her alive as a hag. That village no longer exists. Neighboring villages have stated that the fires from the explosions grew to amazing heights, and that there was nothing left of the place but a burned husk.
Juju
Scallywag, what else can be said of a man who’s name you just can’t remember. He gave me his name just moments ago... Hmmm, no matter.
This stranger has gypsy blood of that there is no doubt, and yet with his speech and skills with a rope - he knows his way around a ship. He looks average in height and build, and I think he has a tattoo or scar on his cheek. Most people tend to ignore him, however there are other unsavory characters who are drawn to him. He is good at sleight-of-hand and loves to entertain others enchanting them in his gypsy spirit. This stranger is quick to pick-up a conversation and always interested in knowing who you are. He is one who never forgets a name which is odd for I cannot remember his.
I only wish I knew more.
Finnegan Shadowwhiper
Description Forthcoming. Aye.
Wrane Wrathborne
My earliest memories are of my mother and I sitting around a campfire for dinner and her telling me stories of our family history. I always loved hearing about my grandmother and how as a young woman she was the strongest and most fierce of our clan. That she could outrun, outfight and outthink anyone else in the village. She traveled to exotic places and had great adventures. I loved all the fighting parts but my mom would always throw in the part about how on one adventure to a place far away she had gotten separated from the rest of her group. She sought shelter from a terrible storm. She lucked upon a cave and went inside. Much to her surprise she found it already occupied. She drew her weapon in defense but the stranger smiled and their eyes met. My mom would always smile at this part and say that they didn’t know who enchanted who but knew they were meant for each other. After a night of passion, they both feel asleep. In the morning, the storm passed and my grandmothers’ adventuring party found her. The stranger was gone and for all the years thereafter she would remember that night fondly. Red eyes and the name Borak was all she could clearly recall. My mother was born within the next year. Unfortunately, I never got to meet my grandmother.
Mom was awesome. Beautiful, smart, fierce and the best of the clan. She followed in my grandmothers’ footstep by seeking adventure away from her small village of “Nowhere” on the Isle of Skye. When my grandmother got sick she returned home to care for her. It was during that time she met my father. She was in the market one day when a party of orcs came to town to trade. The village was full of berserkers and had stuck a treaty out of mutual respect with the local tribe of the Bloody Claw Warband. When the orcs came to town there always ended up being contests of strength and friendly bar fights. On this fateful day, my mother decided to participate in the festivities. After hours and hours of competition only two remained standing - my mother and my father. He was impressed by how she could take everything he had and still be standing. No other, orc male or female had ever done that. She loved that no matter how much he wanted to beat her she felt he was holding back enjoying their “fight.” They would see each for months afterword’s and always spend time together whenever father would come to the village. Eventually they were bound to each other in a small ceremony where only there true and understanding friends attended. To avoid problems, they moved to a secluded area on the mainland. I was born there 27 years ago. They would say that even though one of them was orc and one a human berserker that I was the best of part of them both.
When I was seven everything changed. I was happy learning to hunt, fish and fight and anything my parents would teach me. One day, after a big hunt we made a campfire and sat down to feast on our hard work. As we were finishing our meal, my dad stood up quickly and told me to hide. I remember the look on his face as if it was yesterday, a combination of fierce and concern. I ran as told and sought shelter in a row of shrubs. My mother was up and stood beside my father. They both let out battle cries the likes of which the world had never heard. Then I saw what had them ready for battle. A party of adventurers led by a huge Paladin in silver armor was charging them. They were outnumbered 3 to 1 and normally not a problem, but today was different. The magic that was cast on them was powerful and old. The battle was epic but eventually my father would fall, cut down by the foul Paladin. There was a cleric in the party of the attackers who cried out to his fellow fiends that my mother had demon blood in her and must be destroyed. She glanced in my direction with such love and sadness that she will always be with me. She yelled “If a demon is what you want a demon is what you get.” I knew she had powers gained from my grandmother in that cave long ago but I had no idea how strong she was. Any bear cub's mother would be envious of how she fought that day. The cleric was the first of our attackers to fall, ripped into the tiny pieces he was. Followed quickly by the wizard who got too close. Their archer managed to land a few arrows and that Paladin, that horrible cruel man, struck the killing blow. I loved my parents and had obeyed my fathers’ orders but I could stay hidden no more. I charged to where my parents were struck down, I picked up my father’s sword. The Paladin laughed at me as I tried to land a strike that just bounced off his armor. He told me, “You are in luck foul offspring, this is the day you are slain by the Noble and Powerful Sir Randall, Knight of Paulus”. As he was preparing to dispatch me, one of their party stepped forward and said “Stop!” It was a frail looking old woman who I had not seen attack my parents. She continued, “Sir Randall, I tried to stop you before this all began. These beings might be evil in nature but had love in their hearts. This is but a child and I will not let you harm him.” Sir Randall, in all his self-righteous arrogance said, “Stand aside or be struck down too.” All I remember is that as the blade came down to end us there was a bright light and a sense of floating. When I awoke, I found out we were on the other side of the world and safe.
My benefactor was Melisandra Oliviere a very old and powerful human sorceress. She had used a very powerful artifact she had in her possession to make our escape. She told me that she had fought hard to prevent the attack but that the rest of her companions would not be deterred. She apologized for my parents’ deaths and told me that I was welcome to travel with her for as long as I liked. She swore to protect as if I was her own and she was always true to her word. I had nowhere else to go and a long way from where I had lived so I stayed with her. Melisandra was a kind soul who often told me that she judged everyone by not what they are but by how they acted towards her. It is a philosophy that I use today and has led me to be truly neutral. If a good character or evil character befriends me I can live with that. Threaten me and I don’t care what your alignment is. In my time with her Melisandra taught me the ways of magic and one day I hope to be able to cast sorcerer magic in her honor. We traveled a lot and everywhere we went I would learn something. I have always loved fighting and take every opportunity to learn new techniques and skills. It has been about 8 years now since Melisandra passed away and I lost a second mother.
I have been traveling the lands in search of adventure to honor my heritage. I hope I can live up to their hopes for me. Let the adventure begin.
The Happenings at Hookhill (2010)
Ulrich Allos
My mother, Ursula Allos, had a difficult relationship with her parents being an only child. She fell in love with a gypsy man, Arthur (nicknamed Rusty for his thick, cinnamon brown colored hair). They ran away and were married. My grandparents did NOT approve and wanted to get my mother back.
I was born under a full moon. I have cinnamon brown hair and beard like my Dad's. I'm allergic to silver, mistletoe and Mountain Ash. I have a curiosity of the night sky and have always felt a bit different.
One night while I was out exploring, my Grandparents appeared at my parents' wagon and grabbed my Mother. The three of them ran along the ridge of a hill. When my Father catches up with them, a fight ensues with my Grandfather and Father fighting on the ridge while my Grandmother and Mother struggle nearby. As my Father pushes Grandfather off the hill to his death, he looks over just as his wife, my Mother, loses her balance and falls backwards over the cliff. Grandmother grabs at my Mother snagging her locket, its breaking chain being the last thing holding her to this world.
With the moon rising over the ridge, Grandmother throws the locket down and curses my Father and his children and their children. "You are a BEAST and a BEAR of a man. Now, you will always stay this way." Then trembling, she jumps off the hill to her death.
After Dad told me this sad tale, I went back to the crest of the hill and found my Mother's locket hanging on a bush. I put her locket on and will never remove it.
Snivelbum Knotbrew
IN MEMORIUM. A young gnome of the Knotbrew clan, Snivelbum dresses in fine clothes and wears a beret like hat (the current rage among high society gnomes). Very polite and proper, he seems to be very connected to the ruling families of his gnomish homeland, and expects to to be treated as such. He claims to have the favor of the king himself, and was at the battle when his compatriots fire bombed the orc strong point on the hill. His purpose traveling in the more human lands is as an ambassador of all things gnomish, and wishes to mix with the higher society humans in the realm. He favors his unusual pistol crossbow and short sword in battle, but prefers to handle things diplomatically if at all possible. However, if goblins, orcs, or kobolds are involved, his hatred of these races overcome his high value of his own well being.
Octavious Moonstoke
As the eighth child of the Lord March, Octavius knows he isn't likely to inherit much power, so he is honored to serve for his father at the Black Owl Garrison. With the knowledge that his older brothers will inherit power, Octavius has decided to put his family's influence to use in other ways. When young, he dedicated himself to a clerical order, there learning the importance that reading and accounting play in moving a (new) economy, such as may develop in a castle town. Not usually having the responsibility of power, he has partly dedicated himself to social pursuits among the common people, not as a ruler but to learn from them; sort of a link to the people. He seems very popular. He believes in helping others learn as he did, and he sometime donates money to such causes and schools. The growing castle town will need such people.
Mikus Hammerhard
Leave me alone.
Farnsworth Finefoot
How did I, Farnsworth Finefoot, become a hobbit wizard? Let me tell ya'...
It was a warm summer day, and I was killin' time. I was playin' sticks n' crabapples with three other young hobbits from Orchardview Hill. I found a particularly sturdy, well-shaped stick under one of the larger crabapple trees on the hill on the east side of the field. I swear that little stick could hit crabapples all the way from the Elderberry Downs practically to the Tang Empire. I'm tellin' you it was a good stick. I wasn't bad either if I don't mind braggin' a bit, and I rarely do... mind braggin' that is. After a few swings, I thwacked out the longest apple of the day, maybe of the entire summer. It went a little right of where I was aimin' though. Okay, it went a lot right of where I was aimin'. It landed smack in the middle of the immaculately groomed front yard of Master Milo, a very old, solitary gnome whose cottage outside the village of Pembridge was located precariously close to our field of crabapple trees. Of course Flumsly dared me to go get the crabapple out of Master Milo's yard, and without thinkin' I said "No big deal." Turns out I couldn't have been more wrong.
I scurried over the low picket fence landing softly in the yard. A giant mouth instantly appeared outta' thin air. A low voice bellowed from the mouth, "Who goes there?" I heard shouts behind me and turned to see my friends runnin' as fast as they could 'cross the field back towards the safety of their hobbit holes in the Elderberry Downs. Flumsly was strugglin' hard not to pull up the rear. For some reason I stayed put. I didn't say a word back to the floatin' mouth though. It didn't seem logical to reply. I mean, the mouth didn't have ears or nothin'.
"Are you a deaf hobbit or just a stupid one?" came a softer but equally stern voice from the cottage door which suddenly stood wide open. A small gnome dressed in black robes that shimmered with a bit of silver was silhouetted against the warm light coming from the doorway of the cottage. His left hand grasped the middle of a finely carved staff. The bottom of the staff dug into the ground for support and the top of the staff was capped by the figure of a 3-headed dragon that leered down from nearly a full foot above the tip of the pointy, green hat on the gnome's head. I mustered up the composure to respond to him in my best grammar. "Top of my class in reading and writing," I replied.
"Not stupid and not deaf either, a bit of courage too," the Master responded. "Not bad for a hobbit. You need to work on your aim with a stick though."
He chuckled briefly to himself before a naturally sour expression returned to his face. He then calmly flicked a finger and my record-distance crabapple vanished from his flawless yard. He beckoned me to come inside.
I sat in a soft chair while the Master climbed up on a tall stool behind a desk that was abnormally large to belong to a gnome. The human-sized, cherry-wood desk was covered with quills, paper, and lots and lots of small, peculiar objects. I noticed animal statuettes, cups, sticks, balls, feathers, gems, keys, and various rectangular and triangular shaped scraps of metal among other unidentifiable knickknacks. I waited a minute in uneasy silence, then broke the silence with a question:
Me: "How did you make the crabapple disappear, Master Milo?"
Master: "Magic."
Me: "How did you learn magic?"
Master: "Do you wish to learn?"
Me: "Yes I do. Who wouldn't?"
Master: "And what use have you for spellcasting?
I thought about conjuring servants to do my chores, being the fastest and strongest so that I could win every game, impressing girls, and knowing answers to my teachers' questions before they asked them.
Me: "It might help me protect my family."
Master: "Really?" (He stared right through me.)
Me: "Um, yes. There are many dangers in The Realm these days."
Master: "What do you know of danger, young hobbit?"
Me: (after a brief pause to regain my composure) "I know every tale of the Heroes of The Realm by heart. The legends of the three kings: King Vincent Fleetwood, the Invincible One; King Ernest Goodfellow, ruler of Dragonsford; and King U-Gene, the Dwarven Lord. I know about the companions of the kings: the great cleric Fuzzwort; Falstaff the Druid; and Hylax the Barker, gnome wizard. I know about their adventures through time, battling gods and armies, traveling across seas and journeying to the Land of Shadows and to places outside of space and time. I know..."
Master: "You know nothing! Nothing important about the dangers that exist, dangers that are not mere legends, but real dangers, and much nearer than you think. As for me, I know Hylax the Barker. Not only in legend... I know him personally."
Me: "You really know him?"
Master: "We gnomes call him Hylax, KingMaker. He is the oldest, wisest, and most powerful of all the heroes of The Realm."
Me: "More powerful than King Fleetwood? It's rumored he has a magical sphere that can make castles crumble."
Master: "Who wants to make a castle crumble silly hobbit? What use is that?"
Me: "Well, it'd be pretty amazing to be able to..."
Master: "As a matter of fact, King Vince does have such magic. All of the Heroes have powerful magic that they have earned "battling gods and armies" as you say. More important though, is the wisdom to use magic wisely, to use it for the correct reasons. Without knowledge, power is folly. Tales of war and adventure rarely mention anything of true heroism."
Me: "I want to learn the knowledge that you, Hylax, and the Kings possess to use magic properly. Then when I have learned that well, I wish to learn to cast spells, useful spells."
Master: (with a wry smile) "Not so stupid indeed."
Me: (with an equally wry smile) "Number one in my class."
Master: "I sense some chaos and mischief in you, not unlike an old friend of mine."
By the time I left his cottage, Master Milo had agreed to teach me magic and tell me all about the exploits of Hylax. He taught me every day for two and a half years until I left the Elderberry Downs to find and fulfill my destiny. He would not teach me dark magic or any magic that could be used to inflict harm. "To kill," he always said, "is easy." "Leave that to the humans, dwarves, and ogres."
So that's how I became a wizard. What my future holds, I don't know. It will depend on my skills and wits, and the courage of the companions I choose. Hobbits have a long history of bravery and noble actions belying their small stature. No hobbit that I am aware of has ever joined the Wizard's Council. Two of the greatest heroes in the history of The Realm, King U-Gene and the wizard Hylax, are of the diminutive races. Farnsworth Finefoot, the Hobbit Hero... has a nice ring to it. Could I one day be an apprentice to Hylax? A replacement? Not likely given the limited powers that I have been taught by Master Milo compared to the awesome powers of the Heroes. However, he did teach me how to outwit and outmaneuver my enemies, valuable skills to be sure. Who knows, maybe during the course of my adventures I'll find a powerful weapon that shoots magical missiles or blasts fire. Watch out if that ever happens. My childhood friends thought I was dangerous with a stick and a crabapple.
What would the Master think about my musings on missiles and fire?
"Tsk, tsk, tsk... I'm going to keep an eye on you, hobbit."
Ghul
All that is known of Ghul is from a letter accidentally left behind.
| Ghul. We seek a half-orc who travels under the name Blackwood. |
Return to Tegel Manor (2005-2009)
Six brave adventurers set out to solve the curious happenings of the ancient manse, Tegel Manor, and the dark and tangled trees of the Dreadwood. As their story begins to unfold so many questions are yet unanswered, so many mysteries unsolved.
Avery McIlHenny
Rescued by Dan the Dim from a shipwreck nearly a decade ago, Avery grew up in the confines of the Dagda orphanage. He barely survived his ordeals at sea and the loss of his family in the process. Avery has little recollection of the time before the orphanage. He grew up a sickly child, by dwarf standards, not putting on much weight and his beard has yet to fully grown in. By Avery’s standards the food served in the orphanage was horrible, either portage or mush, neither of which is appealing to a dwarf let alone any hominoid. He was teased often being called a beardless Gnome or Halfling by the other orphans and towns folk. This often resulted in the other children with black eyes. It was only after the town experienced a string of disappearances of cooling pies and other baked good that Avery started to fill out and his beard grow in.
Over the last several holidays Avery has had the opportunity to help prepare various meals excited over the spices and dishes that where prepared. Lately he has acquired his own set of cooking utensils and dabbles with preparing any dish that seems the least bit appetizing. Most would say that he over spices to the point of poison and his combinations of “food” leave a lot to be desired. Avery has recently started to venture outside of town gathering all kinds of ingredients including rodents, insects, moulds and wild mushrooms.
Not truly knowing his family name Avery has taken on the famous McIlHenny family name as his own claiming to be a descendant of the famous fighting chefs. Avery has a typical dwarf temper, never one to turn down a meal or a pint and always out to have others try his latest kitchen creation.
Ronic
Things would be a lot less complicated if I could remember anything prior to my enslavement by the minions of Harek Bloodaxe. Unfortunately, my earliest memory is a vivid image of a thick wooden spoke on a massive, horizontal wheel. I pushed the spoke each day until my feet and hands were bloodied, my body ached, my skin blistered under the heat of the sun and the whips of my captors, and my mind went black with the boredom of endless repetition. I never spoke to the other scraggy captives pushing the adjacent spokes of the giant wheel.
I couldn't forget that memory if I wanted to. It was my life, hour after hour, day after day for uncountable months. The orcs and foul undead creatures that composed the forces of Harek Bloodaxe's army had no problem forcing even very young children into service when there was work to be done. They used any means necessary to ensure that the wheel creaked steadily along on its endless circular journey. For me there was no war, no good versus evil. There was a wheel, a spoke, and pain. A series of ropes, pulleys, and gears connected the axel of the massive wheel to a wide belt with iron buckets attached to it. The buckets rose with the turning of the wheel through a crack in the dusty earth. Less fortunate slaves toiled below ground filling the buckets with whatever minerals the earth would surrender. Such was life before General Axeworthy and the heroes of the realm defeated Harek.
Many of my fellow slaves were killed shortly before the fall of Harek. I would have surely been among the slaughtered had I not been rescued by Ellindell and Aryishia Farshot, my parents. Are they my flesh and blood? They saved me from death and raised me as their own. However, I do not appear to be fully elven so how can they both be my parents? Memory of my early childhood eludes me, leaving me with the reality that I may never know my true heritage. To this day, they refuse to answer questions about my origins insisting that they are my parents. I tried to explain to them that it is the mystery that drives my desire to know the truth, not the need for any other parents. Either they are just being extremely stubborn or they are trying to protect me from something.
My parents bribed the orcs with a large sum of gold to release me from the slave camp. I don't know how a fletcher acquired such a large sum of currency during a time of general poverty. In fact, I know of only one source of wealth capable of producing that much gold, and it resides in Tegel Manor. In addition, I cannot overlook the fact that I am driven towards the order of Paladins like the lineage of the Manor. Perhaps there is a connection. Perhaps my imagination has gotten the best of me.
Evil continues to infest the entire region. I fear it has infiltrated Tegel Village as well. It seems impossible that a lawful society ruled by the forces of good can ever regain control of this area. It certainly isn't a fair fight at the current time. If I am to help, I must attain skill and power. Tegel Manor is a good place to start. My gut tells me that my destiny is tied to the Manor. And if my gut is wrong ... I'll always have my music.
Rukhs
The ogre, whose birth name is Zern, was born in foothills of the Shadowyarn Mountains in the area known as the Vile March, a wild and desolate land ruled by the overlord Grarg Dwarfstomper. His parents belonged to the Black Heart warband, and it was expected that their son would grow to become a great warrior. He was small for his age, but not unusually so.
Early in his life, Zern's mother realized that her son had very poor distance vision, a death sentence in the competitive training ogres undertake to become warriors and members of the tribe. In teaching her son to hide his disability, Zern's mother also realized that her son was unusually smart. While other ogre children were torturing dwarf prisoners, Zern would draw pictures in the sand with sticks and collect rocks of different minerals. Zern quickly learned to hide his interests and pretend to be a normal ogre boy. He even escaped detection at javelin throwing by memorizing the shapes and locations of the targets the night before his coming of age ceremony.
During this time, Zern made another discovery. At first assigned to and then later volunteering to feed the dwarven prisoners taken on Vile March raids, Zern befriended an old dwarven warrior, Billi. The grizzled veteran, familiar with the basics of the ogre language, taught Zern many dwarven words, eventually telling him of dwarven history and heroes. Zern was instantly fascinated. The ogre even bought some old dwarven books being sold by a raider returning from the destruction of a nearby village. Secretly, and with the help of his friend, Zern learned to read the dwarven language.
It was at the time of his coming of age ceremony that Zern made a life-changing decision. After being offered acceptance into the warband with the honorific Bookwurm, Zern declined, invoking instead an ancient and little-used rite. He declared himself Adhun, or alone. This rite was typically invoked when the son of a warchief wished to leave the tribe and form his own clan because the ogre population in the area was growing too numerous. Usually, the warchief's son would be granted ownership of the appropriate number of ogre men and women to start the new tribe. In Zern's case, he had no rights to companionship, so he left alone. Zern was exiled by Grarg Dwarfstomper, and his name was stricken from the records of the Black Heart warband. In abandoning his tribe, Zern forfeited the rights to his name taking instead the dwarven word for ogre, Rukhs.
From his homeland, Rukhs made his way across the Shadowyarn Mountains, stopping to visit several dwarven villages. At the home of Billi, Rukhs told his widow of the dwarf's capture, torture and death. So moved was Billi's widow of the ogre's kindness that she gave him a weathered stone tablet. The tablet told of an ancient dwarven expedition to the Reaches during the Second Age called the migration of the Bluestone dwarves. This expedition sought mithral on the northern shores of the Inner Sea. She told Rukhs that Billi had often spoken of making an expedition to find the Bluestone dwarves once his military career was over. Now, she told Rukhs, that adventure was his. Years passed. Rukhs undertook extensive study mastering the ancient dwarven dialect and learning the ways of his adopted race. Finally, the time for adventure had come.
Making his way east, Rukhs finds himself in Tegel Village. Just west of that strange town, an ancient ruin lies in a swampy moor. Untended since the Second Age, it shows great promise to be the homestead of the Bluestone dwarves. An initial foray almost ends in disaster as Rukhs is ambushed by a party of hostile orcs. Two subsequent attempts to get to the ruins end the same way. Why are the orcs guarding the ruins? His poor eyesight and the general distrust of the villagers have given the ogre no choice but wait. Quietly, Rukh studies his books in the local pub waiting for adventurers to aid him.
Thistledown
Thistledown is a fey creature of the court of Queen Phoebe of the Eldritch Woods. In human terms, the Eldritch Woods is tiny, just a sliver of the Dreadwood where the Darnby River forks before cascading into the Inner Sea. But to Thistledown, this small copse is her entire world.
Thistledown was born on a Midsummer's Eve seven years ago, a sprite in service to her queen. Her days are spent guarding the fairy ring, a small circle of stones around the base of a hollow hill. While her queen, the court and the night fey sleep, Thistledown "guards" the forest, which mostly consists of playing tree tag with the other sprites, tormenting squirrels and the occasional human visitor, eating nectar, and frolicking. Each night, as the queen wakes, Thistledown makes her way to the ring and watches the splendor of the evening's court comes into session. After some dancing and a few words from the queen, Thistledown usually falls asleep to the sound of music, soft and faint, floating up to her perch high in the trees. Near dawn, she wakes. The sound of merriment has died to the sound of rushes blowing in the wind. The day creatures of the forest are starting to stir, and Thistledown assumes her post.
The human reckoning of time does not adequately measure the passage of days and months and years in the fairy world. But, to the best of her recall, Thistledown noticed a change in her queen several months ago. It was subtle at first. The queen, always being given gifts by the denizens of the woods, was wearing a necklace which shone in a blue-black light. Each night, the darkness grew and each night the court became more somber and lethargic. Even her fellow sprites seemed to spend more time during the day napping in the sunshine than playing amongst the boughs. Only Thistledown saw the transformation.
One night, with trembling wings, Thistledown approached the queen. Timidly, she reported what she had observed. The queen looked up, her head had been drooping as Thistledown spoke. Phoebe's words were clear and strong, but with an edge not heard before. "Thistledown, you have called me false. For that, you are banished from the Eldritch Woods!" With that proclamation, the queen fell fast asleep. As her guards and retainers began to drop in a catatonic slumber, Thistledown fled. Out of the woods she soared until she spied a human village. An ugly, sprawling mess of homes and animals. For three days, she circled the town. Each time she tried to return to the Eldritch Woods, she felt sleep starting to rush over her, and she fled. At night, she dreamt of snakes attacking her queen. Not the friendly snakes of the forest, but huge misshapen creatures from deep within the bowels of the earth. Finally, she entered Tegel Village.
In a rush, she headed to the human's meeting place, the White Horsed Sleigh. She told her story to the human leader, as he poured her some nectar from a large spout. After a few sips of the brew, Thistledown slept. When she awoke, a hundred humans had crowded in to see her. So she has stayed for the past days. Drinking the human brew, which seems to keep the evil dreams at bay, and telling her story to the humans, begging them to help. Her queen is under an evil enchantment. Someone must help her break the curse.
| Evan Granger | Hune Grimhaft |
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| 76% Done | Information lost. Or was it? Stolen? |