Wiki Pages – Page 18 – Last Hope Larp

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The Path of Divinity

The Next Step

May 272

This story yields the request from whom offers a boon to Artemis and his family line.

After the establishment of an Organization, Artemis felt that it was time to adjust his focus. He wanted to work on his blacksmithing, however, he also wanted to rely on his teammates even more. He had instructed his newest companion, Orla, to gather a deeper understanding in the ways of different materials and resources and how they can be used. That way, under his instruction, they can create these so-called magic items. It was time Artemis focused inward. He had studied a particular magical enchantment that only he and similar skilled individuals can enchant. He calls it the 3rd Aura. This enchantment requires the skill of a magic user who has become skilled in the craft but not yet mastery. Currently, Artemis can only apply a 3rd Arcane aura but what if he could apply ANY 3rd Aura. He would need to unlock his understanding of the Divine even further. Unfortunately, there is only one way to do that. More Worship.

Artemis prides himself on utilizing science and mana to his understanding. Everything should and can be explained. However, Divinity? That cannot be explained so easily. What we know is that it is based around faith and belief and the gods grant a boon for the acts of service. One may say, we are the vessel of the gods and act under their will. With this understanding Artemis needed to get in contact with the god his sister informed him of and the god in which she and her father both follow, Khruki, Lord of Darkness.

Artemis returns to his new home after a long day of work within the Org. All day brewing and getting things ready for the next batch of wine that shall flow. He then begins to gather himself a bottle of his newest batch, the Apple Pie a La Mode as well as some fresh meats and cheeses. He informs his org, “Ok guys, I know you guys will monitor things well. I will be gone for only a day, and I will be close. Don’t try to find me as contacting this particular god is a solo affair.” He then states his goodbyes and sets off. He gathers up some old documents from his studies and sets off. With him he has his wine, food, his notebook, and his father’s book. He finds himself a nice, quiet cave not too far and begins to set up a small camp.

He then drinks his booze and meditates.

“Endless darkness, endless night

A world anathema to light

All that’s done can surely break.

Only in dreams can we awaken.”

There is nothing heard for now. Only the echoes of the cave and sound of the bugs and trees.

“Sound and fury, heralds, horns

Cry for the one from nothing born.

Now ichor leaks from broken hearts

Now come warrior of the stars!”

That’s when things went silent. Eerily silent. He awakes in a dream state, one that can only be described as his Mind’s Eye. In it he sees a nice calm grassy plane and calm trees. He is alone in this domain. Looking to the sky, you would see not one but two mana streams. One, much weaker than the other. Traveling further, there is a crossroads. One path leads to what is familiar, crackling Arcane energy. In the other, calm healing Divine energy. “In order for me to progress in my form, I must strengthen what is weaker.” Artemis ponders. He then begins to walk the path of the Divine.

The first step in this path is a test. A voice echoes, that of his sister, “ok now, Let’s cover the basics.” In front of him lies a body, freshly dying, maybe he was attacked. “Go ahead and bring that one back”. Artemis heads over to the body. It is his grandfather. “If only I was adept at this then” He leans down and issues a small prayer. “By my will and power. Allow this one to be brought back from the brink. It is not yet his time” and like that a sudden burst of power flows through Artemis and into his Grandfather. The man is gasping for air and somewhat stable. “I have bought you more time. But unfortunately, this is only a skill test.” The sight vanishes as quickly as it came. It leaves only a note. “Well done!” The next test then presents itself. A creature clad in thick shadows slips from a nearby treeline and slides towards Artemis. He cannot make out what it may be, but instinctively, he produces a white ball of energy and hurls it at the figure. It stumbles back, but keeps coming. A few more and the shade is down. Ahead, he can see a visage. A man? Artemis investigates further.

As Artemis gets closer to the man, he sees a familiar face. Himself. “I am what you already know. You have studied a great deal of information. I am here to help you compile it. Let me see father’s journal.” The clone of Artemis reaches out his hand. Artemis does bequeath the journal and sits with, well himself.

Artemis spends multiple hours studying and going through the texts of his father. “First off, there is a deity we should worship. We have a certain progression. The first God we encountered and devoted to is known as Khruki, Lord of Darkness. He is father’s god. We must worship a new god. One that is, like us. One that…” He pauses a moment and hears a rustle in the brush. It’s the shade returned again, shambling closer. The clone of Artemis then unsheathes his blade coated with divine energy. “This will work. For now, you recite the lamentation of Khruki. It’s on page 42 in father’s journal.” Artemis flips to the page and reads.

“Endless darkness, endless night

A world anathema to light

All that’s made can surely break.

Only in dreams can we awaken

Sound and fury, heralds, horns

Cry for the one from nothing born.

Now ichor leaks from broken hearts

Now come we fight, for the stars!

When you look into the sky

You’ll see the light surrounded by

The dark!

The abyss, lurking

Things beyond our understanding

We who left the doorway open

Into your hearts

Into the stars!

For as long as there is fear

The creeping shadow shall draw near

From the darkness

Comes the nightmare

Born to swallow up the light

The miracle of shadow rising

All that matters now colliding!

Angels cry on wings of blood

Rain down the tears to bring the flood

And as corruption takes our heroes

Everything will fall to zero!

Can you feel the rumble of the coming storm?

Reality lies upon the edge of thorns

The power that is borrowed

Will not guarantee tomorrow

When the universe will drown among the sorrow sworn

Rise and fall

This is my call!

I weep, I scream

I dare not dream

Khruki, our chariot awaits

To blaze a trail across the sky!

Is this our purpose?

Or is nothing all we’re meant for?

You who stand blessed under starlight

Gaze upon me!

Do you fear me?

As we fly to guard your dreams

The shadow swallows our regime

Endless darkness, endless night

A world anathema to light

All that’s made can surely break

Only in dreams can we awaken

Sound and fury, heralds, horns

Cry for the one from nothing born

Now ichor leaks from broken hearts

Now come we fight for the stars!

Cross the endless eons

We have come so far

Seen a life reflected

In the Mana Shards

The pain of the bells

Rings out a melody from Hell

And deep inside the darkness drowns a beating fell beast’s heart”

During this chant, the clone of Artemis does battle with the mysterious being. “Divine Finish!!” The clone pierces what would be the heart of the shade and eradicates the monstrosity. The Divine energy encircling the blade dissipates as it burns out the soul of the shadowy form. Artemis turns to his cloned self, “So the next god would be his son Irunaki? That would make sense, considering the Organization that I just created. Then I take it the next move after that would be….Gryx?” “Correct!” The clone nods in acknowledgment. He then dissipates and Artemis is then returned to the plane of two streams. The Divine stream grows stronger. “What would I need to do to appease Gryx?” He ponders and studies for a moment. He then sees a name, Rialvis. Artemis then awakens next to his campfire and finds himself idly toying with a small time piece in his hands. He doesn’t remember bringing it along. “Oh, a small trinket, it does not function though”. Perhaps he’d grabbed it absent mindedly, maybe a friend slipped it into his pouch. Either way it’s a question for another time. He begins to get up and heads back to the settlement.

On his way down, he runs into Maretheris, trying her best to open a jar of sauce. She struggles as her wrists still have not healed yet. “Here let me help with that.” A bit startled, Maretheris yelps and hurts her hand a bit more. “Ha-ha I didn’t mean to scare you.” Artemis jests. “I just got done early, sorry”. Artemis, instinctively, holds Maretheris’s hands. Divine energy flows through him and almost instantly, her wrists stop hurting. “Are you…ok?” Maretheris inspects her wrists a bit more. “I’m….im more than ok.” She begins to move her hands in a way she couldn’t before. “Did you?”

Artemis then tries to open the jar. “Ow ow ow. What the? Why do my wrists….?” “We call that karma you silly goose, ha-ha” Maretheris jests. “Looks like you’re the disabled one now!” “For someone knowledgeable in the Divine, you sure don’t know what spells that are cast. That one is called Sacrifice; you took my injury.”

After some time, Artemis then goes to his bedchambers to read up on what his father has on Rialvis. It reads; Talonflame has been hunting Rialvis for quite some time. Ever since his first encounter in the Serai Outpost, year 265. He was but an extreme novice in the ways of magic and was impressed by his power. A Syndar who can wield both magics? Unheard of. His patron Vazra also had dealings with him, of a sort. “Vazra, that’s whose journal I read to unlock my understanding of Witch magic.” The journal later states the excerpts of a different journal. One that could be none other than Rialvis himself, at least paraphrased.

He ponders, “It would seem, that father wanted to learn from this, Riavlis, but things took a different turn. Also, the cost was detrimental, causing Manetho great harm. What’s interesting though, is that Rialvis acted as a god. Though so did my father. I guess there can only be room for one egotistical Syndar.” He chuckles. “It would be beneficial to grant others power, I suppose that’s the canonical next step of Enchanting. This, Rialvis, does have quite the control over the Mordok. Based on this info, my next step is to correct the uncorrected. Rid the land of Riavlis” and Artemis then turns out his light and goes to sleep, with his next mission at hand.

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Page 18

Ragnar Riverhead

PLAYED BY: Matthew “Platt” Johnson
CHARACTER NAME: Ragnar Riverhead
Full name: Ragnar Årud of Clan Riverhead
GENDER: Male (He/Him)
CLASS: Warrior
AGE: Born in the Spring of 236.
RACE: Ulven
HAIR: Blonde/Light Colored
EYES: Yellow
OCCUPATION: Currently Aladrin’s babysitter, unfortunately
KNOWN SKILLS: Craftsman, Blacksmith, Shield Warrior
BIRTHPLACE: Riverhead Territory
APPEARANCE: If a fight is imminent he will have three painted streaks on his face.
NOTABLE TRAITS: An Ulven warrior wielding an ax and tower shield, he is loyal to his Pack (currently the Guardians). When meeting strangers Ragnar will be stoic until he gets to know you better.
RELATIONSHIPS: Mated to Eldi of Clan Shattered Spear. Currently traveling with the Guardians of the Wall.
RUMORS: Ragnar does not trust strangers much anymore. However, if you want to get on his good side, bring him some food as Ragnar enjoys a delicious feast among friends.

BIO / BACKGROUND HISTORY:

Ragnar’s story begins at his birthplace in Clan Riverhead territory. Born to Randi and Aina Årud of Clan Riverhead in the Spring of 236, he was the second-born of three siblings. His Father was a great traverser of the nearby rivers while his Mother fished and tended the fields. Ragnar’s older brother was a fierce warrior and protector of his siblings while their younger sister was always peaceful and imaginative. Some say that she would’ve made an excellent Daughter of Gaia. And Ragnar… was curious. He was not much of a warrior compared to his brother, but was a polite pup who was more interested in crafting rather than fighting. Growing up, Ragnar was always awkward around others but would not hesitate to at least go up and greet a stranger.

Once as a young pup, Ragnar had decided to venture out with his Father on one of his trips to a nearby village. But his Father had not known that his son was coming with him and so Ragnar was beginning to fall farther and farther behind him when he heard noises coming from where his Father was. He raced to catch up and saw several creatures surrounding the older Ulven. At first they looked like shadows, but as he got closer he noticed that their skin was of blues, greens and purples in color. Their faces were twisted and vicious-looking. These terrifying fiends seemed to resemble the ones from the stories that his Mother had told him growing up.

In thinking about these nightmares, Ragnar couldn’t help himself and let out a shriek. The Mordok heard this and soon their attention was turned towards the young pup. His father also noticed the sound and a look of panic washed over his face when he realized it was Ragnar. The last thing the young pup remembered before blacking out was his father racing to get ahead of the dark creatures. When he came to, he was being carried by his father, who was relieved to see that his son was not injured. After that incident, his parents had decided that it was time to take Ragnar’s training more seriously if he was going to survive.

His Mother and Father were wise and taught Ragnar strategy, while Ragnar’s brother was a brute in strength and taught him to use the axe and sword. Ragnar’s brother would constantly attempt to spar with him when they weren’t assisting their parents. And though Ragnar did not have the brute strength of his brother, he did have the endurance and ability to think of a way to turn the tables on him. At one point he discovered that his brother’s weakness was his back and Ragnar would use this to take control… until his brother got upset and went all out. Several times this ended with broken furniture and angry parents.

As he grew older, he continued being friendly towards strangers, but he found those strangers to be less welcoming than when he was a pup. One day though, Ragnar met another Ulven that was his age. He called himself Leif and proclaimed himself to be the greatest adventurer in all the lands. The two became inseparable in both their adventures and the troubles they created for their parents. Ragnar looked up to Leif like a brother and Leif treated him the same. Together, the two pups would ascend trees, traverse waterways, and explore the nearby forests. Leif taught Ragnar how to stay safe outside their village and Ragnar would be there to support his friend through every new adventure.

When he was not adventuring with Leif, Ragnar would be training with his family in order to learn how to fight better. Most of the time, Ragnar would be defeated easily whether it be by his Brother’s overwhelming strength, or the cleverness of his parents. But Ulven are not known to give up and so they continued training. Several seasons later, a shift happened. During this particular training, Leif had arrived early and noticed the friendly duel occurring between Ragnar and his family. He saw Ragnar was not doing well and was about to be outmatched again. So Leif quickly took up his training ax and joined his friend.

The three older Ulven were definitely skilled in this fight and while Ragnar was relieved to have the team-up with his friend, if something did not change soon they would still be defeated. Thinking on this, Ragnar quickly grabbed a nearby shield and took on a more defensive role. His brother continued the relentless barrage of attacks, but Ragnar was able to focus his attention purely on defense while Leif used his speed to stay on offense against Ragnar’s parents. While it was not a perfect strategy yet, it allowed the pair to endure. During the second bout, Ragnar and Leif became more synchronized and were able to claim a victory over the older Ulven. And so it was that Leif would take up the ax and bow and Ragnar would be his shield and sword. That night, the Ulven group celebrated with much laughter and drink.

When he was in his teen years, Ragnar went with his father downstream to a village that he had never been to. It was there that Ragnar saw a female Ulven about his age. He couldn’t help but think she was quite attractive. She was easy to talk to and had a great smile that melted Ragnar’s heart. He would do anything to see that smile, even if the jokes were dumb. His brother attempted to teach him the ways of wooing this female but for some reason, Ragnar would do something or act in an unusually, oftentimes awkward way. Everytime he wanted to kiss her, even on a romantic night gazing up at the stars, Ragnar would lose all the courage he had mustered. It wasn’t like Ragnar didn’t want to be with her and do all the usual things that a male and female Ulven do, but it never felt like the right time with her. He was never sure if she ever realized this too. But it did not matter much because what they did enjoy was being able to spend time together.

Once, the female Ulven introduced Ragnar to her cousins. The young Ulven males were about the same age as Ragnar and the group got along well with each other. They played sporting games and told stories of great heroes long into the night. Well after the female Ulven and most of her cousins had gone off to sleep, it was just Ragnar and her oldest cousin left. He was probably one season older than Ragnar, but he told Ragnar the stories of his many adventures. Ragnar couldn’t help but be enthralled by each tale. And as the fire began to die down, something happened between the two that would change the way Ragnar looked at love and relationships forever.

Not long after, the young female Ulven fell sick and could not walk without passing out. Ragnar tried to make her as comfortable as possible. He sought aid from strangers to find a medicine that would cure her. Winter passed and she had only gotten worse until one day she was no more and had left to begin The Journey. May his ears ring with her name. Nobody quite knows what caused her sickness, but Ragnar was certain of one thing; what he felt was guilt. Guilt for not loving her the way she deserved. Because of this, Ragnar was never sure if he would ever find a mate, or want to, and decided instead to focus on his adventures with Leif.

Several seasons passed and Ragnar and Leif had grown into fine adult Ulven Warriors/Adventurers. They used their shield and bow combo to keep their village safe from the constant threat that was Mordok. That season however, news spread of strangers from a faraway place that had made their way into Mardrun. Ragnar and Leif left to investigate the interlopers for themselves to see what kind of threat they posed.

There were so many of them that came off of their great ships. They were clad in weird clothing that was either bright in color or decorated with odd designs. But what really stood out to him though, were the pointed ears on some of their heads. Ragnar thought they were most bewildering and wondered what kind of people they were. On their faces, Ragnar noticed a mix of reactions from hope to dread.

The two Ulven approached the interlopers carefully. After getting the chance to meet them and hear their story, Ragnar realized that he never resented them like the way some of the other Ulven clans did, but took pity on them for losing their homes. For he could never imagine what that pain must feel like. Out of respect for other Ulven though, Ragnar would do his best not to associate with the interlopers when he was around others.

The season passed, and rumors continued to spread about an upcoming war. Due to the problems created by the new interlopers, many Ulven were divided on their opinions of them. Ragnar’s and Leif’s opinions about them however did not change. But they knew that they could not sit idly by and let the situation get worse or even spill out into their home. So they decided to go and help settle the issue peacefully. The pair of Ulven joined others from nearby villages and attempted for many days to convince others to resort to peace, but their efforts fell on deaf ears.

One night as they were talking to others at a local gathering, an unknown group of individuals let loose a flurry of arrows. Fortunately, Ragnar had his shield, but Leif was not so fortunate. Ragnar watched in horror as his friend was struck with several arrows and he fell lifeless to the ground. At first Ragnar was overcome with rage and wanted nothing more than to seek vengeance against the cowards who attacked from the shadows, but before he could act, they had already snuck back into the shadows. He quickly gave chase into the woods along with several others. But the darkness hid the cowards well and after a while his search was in vain and returned. Ragnar was overcome with grief for the second time in his life for he was, again, not able to satisfy the needs of those he cared about. His one duty was to protect his brother Leif, and he had failed him. That night, Ragnar lit the fire and told of the many adventures he shared with Leif in hopes that His ears would ring with his name. It was after the loss of his closest friend that Ragnar learned not to be as trusting of strangers.

Shortly after the war had ended, more threats appeared. Most were territorial issues. But one threat was more terrifying. Many Ulven from nearby packs began coming down with a sickness and it appeared as if no medicine had any effect. His Father was one such victim. The people were calling it the Creeping Corruption. It was not long after that his Father along with many others passed on to begin The Journey. May his ears ring with their names.

Not long after, a new danger emerged. The Mordok came in after the lands had begun to grow back from the winter. These attacks were not new to the people, but for some reason they did not end as quickly as other skirmishes had. And after several days a full force of Mordok came in massive numbers. It is not clear how so many managed to invade the Ulven forests and lands, but either way they pushed their way into Ragnar’s homeland and slaughtered many Ulven.

Due to the numerous recent tragedies, there was not much that the village could do to protect their lands from this evil. Ragnar banded together with whoever was left to fight and though they fought hard, nearly all had lost their lives. Among those lost were his Brother and Mother. The fight appeared to drag on with no end in sight. The strength of these enemies was overwhelming and after enduring so much, Ragnar’s shield had finally given way. Fortunately, an arrow found the chest of the Mordock who had broken the shield. But all of the memories he made with Leif and that shield were now too much for him and he could not focus on the battle. Ragnar’s strength was quickly leaving his body as his mind slowly began breaking more, like the pieces of his shield, at the loss of so many of his friends and family.

Suddenly, Ragnar heard something. It was very faint, but got louder. He could make out a voice calling out his name. He opened his eyes and began looking for the source. It was his sister. She was still alive and Ragnar’s body began moving before he realized it, grabbing a nearby ax along the way. He gathered all the strength he had left and swung wildly at the Mordok heading towards his sister. Their bodies littered the ground. His sister had saved him from giving into his grief completely and now it was his turn to protect his sister. He grabbed her hand and together with a handful of others fled the land they called their home. Just before it was out of sight, Ragnar turned to look back at his village. Fires illuminated the destruction and death around the village. At this, Ragnar swore to the Great Wolf and Mother Gaia that he would return to reclaim those lands again or die trying.

The handful of survivors from Riverhead found a safe haven in a town in Shattered Spear territory. Ragnar tried to rally the local warriors for help to reclaim his home, but many only turned him away because the horde of Mordock was just too great at the moment. Unable to gather support he felt defeated and turned back to his bed. Ragnar was not his normal self anymore. He was overcome with grief at failing over and over to keep his loved ones safe. Ragnar was broken. He refused to go outside or even meet others from the town. Several Ulven, including his sister, attempted to get the broken Ulven back to his former self, but none succeeded.

It was several days later when something snagged Ragnar’s attention. It was such an unusual smell that it made him curious to seek it out. He didn’t have to go far as it led Ragnar to the home next to theirs. When he went in, he saw a most unique site. There was this dark-haired Ulven about Ragnar’s age, cooking something like a stew over a fire. But as he cooked, the strange Ulven danced like none other he had seen before. Ragnar couldn’t help but be completely enthralled with the way he swayed and twirled. His movements were dynamic yet graceful. It was as if the Ulven was dancing with fire. After a few minutes the peculiar Ulven from Shattered Spear realized he was being watched. All he did was give Ragnar a smile, a wink, and he continued to dance and cook. The meal was finished and the Ulven from Shattered Spear introduced himself as Eldi and that he was glad to see he had finally pierced Ragnar’s defense.

That season Eldi had shown Ragnar the beauty of the Shattered Spear lands and they shared many stories of their youth with each other. Ragnar learned that Eldi was not originally from Shattered Spear but from somewhere farther away. He shared the reason he had left his home was in search of a family who would give him a better life. More seasons passed and the two Ulven grew closer together. So much so, that familiar feelings began to spark for Eldi the way they had with female Ulven from Ragnar’s youth. But these were different. He couldn’t explain it but it felt warm, and made him smile. It was not long then that the two were mated for life.

Another season passed when news came of Ragnar’s homeland in Riverhead territory. He was astounded to hear that a group of people calling themselves the Fence Protectors were attempting to reclaim those lands and make them safe again. He was also a bit confused as to why they would call themselves that when a fence doesn’t really need protecting. Either way though, if they had wanted to make his homelands safe, they would need help from someone who knows those lands and the Ulven who may have survived. That night Ragnar had a long discussion with his mate and his sister. In the end, they both understood his feelings and gave their blessings for him to go.

He packed his stuff and was ready to leave during the next sunrise. The three were emotional because they did not know what awaited Ragnar. But they looked forward to the day when Ragnar would send word that his lands were safe again and for them to come and join him. And so he left with a new shield and eyes set in the direction of his home. Along the way he met several strangers, one of whom was selling some fine-smelling meat. Ragnar had never been one much for pork, but he was astounded by the flavors it contained.

He ventured closer and closer to his homeland and even encountered an unfortunate group of bandits who thought they stood a chance against him. When Ragnar had arrived at the farm of an old Riverhead Ulven, he was surprised to see just who these Fence Protectors were. There was no way these guys stood a chance at defending anything. And so Ragnar challenged them to a friendly fight to see just how much skill they had. Their magic-user stepped up to the challenge, but Ragnar was not interested in taking on someone who would fight with spells. It was a pointy-eared guy with a bow, double-swords, and lute who decided to take Ragnar on. The duel began and it was during the fight that Ragnar got distracted by this… unique individual. His bow skills and demeanor reminded him so much of Leif.

The duel was over, and as to who won, it didn’t matter. All that Ragnar knew at that moment was that there was a chance that he could reclaim his homelands and bring his family home. That night, they feasted on the bow-users’ pork, but in Ragnar’s opinion it was not as good as the one he got from that traveler. They shared many stories and drank long into the night. In the morning, Ragnar began training with the group that was actually called, the Guardians of the Wall. He quickly learned how to use their tower shield and even worked with their blacksmith to create one of his own. This was the shield that Ragnar would use to defend his new home and friends until the day comes when the Great Wolf’s ears rang with his name.

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Page 18

Iduun Nightriver

CHARACTER NAME: Idunn Nightriver

GENDER: female

PRONOUN(S): she/they

CLASS: Rogue

AGE: 15

RACE: Ulven

HAIR: wavy curls with fades tips, medium length black undercut

EYES: bluish gray

OCCUPATION: herbalist/ plant merchant

BIRTHPLACE: Born outside of The City of Newhope in Nightriver Territory

APPEARANCE: around 5’3, square-ish shaped wire glasses, curly faded black-to-blonde hair, blue eyes, sensible clothing that befits an herbalist who often travels through the woods and collects flowers, mushrooms, and any other intriguing things she finds.

NOTABLE TRAITS: nope

RELATIONSHIPS: good friends with Amiya Stormjarl

BIO / BACKGROUND HISTORY:

Born around the city of new hope, I was raised around a non-political family. I started my travels with a local lore speaker. Soon we decided to travel separately, wanting to learn more about Mardrun by seeing new places. On the way I picked up herbology while traveling from town to town. I had started selling reagents, not making it a long lasting job. Taking a liking to herbology I decided to continue exploring the different plants. I met Amiya Stormjarl overseas and we became good friends in the short time that we were in the outlands together. Now I travel with her and her group so I have a familiar face wherever I go.

“Journal,

I had always been fond of the idea of traveling and learning more about the rest of Mardrun. Though, I never really had the chance or preparations to actually do it. But today I had decided to travel to the southern coasts with a friend in my pack, Sjoulfur. I found the new area exciting, interesting, and overall, breathtaking. On the edge of New Vandregon, I stayed in a cabin not far from the water’s edge. I chose to stay there for an extra couple days, then I guess you could say I took the long way home (basically travel Mardrun to learn as much as I could about, well, everything). The first stop I took was at Brattsholt which I didn’t have much luck with at the end of that whole thing. I didn’t lose much though, mainly because I didn’t bring much to start the day”

On one of my excursions to a small village called Brattsholt I had a very profitable selling day. All was going well until a group of raiders threatened the town. I lost all of my profit and stock to those bandits. I am once again on a path to find reagents and continue my catalog of plants.

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Page 18

The Saints of Vandregon

Worship of the Saints of Vandregon is an ancient well practiced religion that started many generations ago, well before the first contact war between the Syndar and Human Kingdoms. In this faith there are numerous Saints who have served the people of Vandregon in some shape or form that most often ended in Self-Sacrifice for the greater good of its people. As for the region that may have started the practice it is disputed by even the most learned of scholars, but it is either the Royal Capital or in the area around the holy sight known as Mount Bodwin, where the center of the religion is located and largest mountain in the region.

As stated previously, with the veneration of Saints as the cornerstone of this religion there is no solid portfolio or area where the religion focuses on other than the improvement of Vandregonian Society. Due to this there are a multitude of Saints to cover many aspects of life that those who follow the religion can pray to, whether it is a Saint of Sailors or the ever popular Sentinel Saint, Saint Arcadia, whom many warriors and knights of Vandregon. Beyond this there are a vast array of regional Saints that may have only seen worship in small areas of the Vandregonian Kingdom

Below are listed the popular Saints that survived the Fall and exodus from Faedrun:

Saint Arcadia, The Sentinel: This is one of the most recent Saints added to the religion during the battles with the Undead. Saint Arcadia, is often prayed to by those looking for protection, martial might, or the chivalrous path. Saint Arcadia came into divine recognition after sacrificing herself to defend a pass where undead and penitent from advancing in Southern Vandregon. It was said she fell twenty warriors, ten members of an undead cult, and four Undead before she gave in to her wounds. Before she fell, he struck a support beam that held the area open and caved in the pass, killing all foes and herself in the process to protect a town filled with wounded soldiers, commoners, and supply lines. She is often depicted as a knight in full plate armor, holding both a longsword and shield.

Saint Borim, The Hound: This saint is known more by those that explore the wilds for game, quarry, or foe. Saint Borim is a slightly older Saint that has survived the years due to being relatable to the common folk, military, and the nobility in a multitude of ways. Those that pray to Saint Borim generally are looking for skill in the hunt, endurance when facing the wilds, and true loyalty. Saint Borim came into divine recognition after a dreadfully long and cold winter in Northern Vandregon. In the region there were three villages and a town that were suffering from starvation, bandits, and lack of wood to keep the fires strong. Borim came to each town and worked endlessly to not only restock their pantries with fish, game, and edible bark, but also worked to form militias to fight off the bandits that plagued them. By the last village the largest blizzard ever known hit the area while out on a hunt. After this blizzard hit, the townsfolk went out to see what happened to Borim only to find his loyal hound half frozen, dragging a sled with massive elk and dead Borim on it. While the town was feld and the hound attempted to be saved, it refused to eat and stayed near the Grave of Borim till its last days. Many depict Saint Borim to be a strong muscular hunter with a strong thick bow and Gvalt, his loyal hound, at his feet.

Saint Thalia, The Maid: This Saint is known by the more common and rural folk as one that you can always turn to if in need. Saint Thalia is the second oldest known Saint of Vandregon, believed to have originated near in the region known as The Rolling Mounds. Those that pray to her often are asking for aid in matters of love, health, farming, and hearth. Saint Thalia came into power during a period of drought and famine that struck the area. The religious text states that during that time of hardship Saint Thalia came into the region and began to help small farms with trying to keep whatever crops that were growable. In her actions she was able to improve irrigation, soil quality, and help keep cattle alive by finding alternate methods of feed and where to drink. Through her actions the region was able to recover and then thrive after the drought passed. She stayed afterwards and continued to educate further with infrastructure and herbal medicine. After some time, Saint Thalia eventually passed due to old age after spending decades helping the Rolling Hills region of Vandregon. Many depict Saint Thalia as a younger woman in basic garb and apron with a basket of herbs, grain, and crown of flowers upon her head.

Saint Halver, The Mystic: This Saint is known by all citizens and worshipers of the faith. However they are not often prayed to outside of those who seek knowledge, magic, protection of the unknown, and death. Saint Halver is the oldest known Saint of Vandregon with tales going back unknown generations.
Religious texts that have survived show that Saint Halver came into power towards the beginning of the practice of worshiping the Saints of those who worked to improve and serve Vandregon. As for what caused this mysterious saint to rise to power, the stories are missing pieces of information but from what scholars could put together it was something along the following.
Saint Halver was a powerful mage who lived on the now known Mount Bodwin, often just coming down to collect new books or visit other intellectuals. Back when the Kingdom was just starting, there was a grand drought that was plaguing the lands of Vandregon. During this period, the current ruling king, King Vesper Vandregonia 3rd of his name, was despirate to save the people so he went on a quest to Mount Bodwin and climbed it without aid to the cottage that Halver was said to have lived in. Having fought off eagles, large spiders, nearly falling to his death on leg of the climb, King Vesper reached Halver’s threshold. Before he could even knock, the king’s weariness took over and sleep fell upon him like a crushing ocean wave. King Vesper woke up to see the heavily hooded figure sitting in the corner smoking on a pipe while reading a book by the fire. His highness got up and found there was a pitcher of water and a lowly clay cup for him to drink out of.
“I am a king, I will not drink from something so lowly.” Said Vesper, his voice filled with pride.
“Then you may stay thirsty… For a King that will not even touch his lips to the very clay he is to rule is a foolish King. For if such a King was to ever darken my stoop, I would have no advice to offer one who cannot accept what is placed right before him and as a gift. Such a prideful King wouldn’t heed my warnings and council, and rather do what they will. So, if the clay you rule is too far beneath you, King of Fools and Droughts, then stay thirsty and leave.” Said Halver, showing no emotion to the insult of hospitality
King Vesper then thought long and hard, for no one in all of Vandregon had ever spoken to him as such. He bit his tongue so no retort would leave, drank from the water, and found it to be the most refreshing drink to have ever passed over his lips.
King Vesper and Helvar then talked long into the night. The exact conversations are sparse in recording, but they spoke deeply of the drought.
“You will go deep into the Rolling Hills, bring workers of strong back and stronger constitution, for you will bring water to the rivers to the southern parts of your kingdom. You will find a lake and an ancient dam that was placed by your ancestors. Bring it to rubble and ruin, and let the lake flow like nature intended and the southern part of your kingdom will be spared. The northern kingdom will require strong laborers and strong horses; they will dig a series of trenches that will connect to the inland sea at the foot of the Celestial Mountains, for the water is perfect for soil and growing crops. Do this, and your lands will be spared from this drought and other droughts to come.” Said Halver.
King Vesper did just this and his people were saved from a drought that brought the Kingdom of Vandregon to its knees. It is then that King Vesper requested that Halver join him in court, but was refused four times. The fifth time, Halver came to agree and resided in the capital for all but the last three years of his life, where they returned to his home. Which was rebuilt by King Vesper’s son, King Yorik Vandregonia, into what would eventually become the Vault of Wisdom within the depths of the Citadel of Mount Bodwin. There are a few other stories, but those will be found or told another day.

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April 272 – News and Rumors

Robins sing their songs and flowers begin to poke up from the ground. The planting season is well underway and News and Rumors fall across the landscape like a chilled spring rain.

Reports continue to come from Clan Shattered Spear regarding the strange happenings at their remote village. The Clan has diverted some of their people who were aiding in the resettlement of Riverhead Lands and have established a formal forward camp to try to reach out to the villagers and settle the bizarre matter peacefully. This choice will delay the resettlement efforts, but Riverhead understands the need to attend to these bizarre circumstances. Luckily the efforts put forward in March to cleanse the area of ambient corruption eased the logistics of setting up the forward camp and allowed Shattered Spear to more quickly turn their attention toward the village. Unfortunately, at this time it seems that Shattered Spear has not yet been able to reach the villagers in any meaningful way. Some reports come back that the villagers have begun to barricade all the entrances in an attempt to wait out the Shattered Spear Forces. Sometime through the middle of the month a hawk arrived in Shattered Spear Village from the remote villagers. It requested aid to come and help defend their village against a Mordok siege and boasted the resolve of the villagers and sang their own praises of the great number of Mordok that they have defeated and driven back.

Rumors begin to swirl through the streets of Newhope following last month’s proclamation of a new Councilor. Though no official word has been given yet, it is not long before people are able to piece together rumors and it’s fairly clear that the new council member will be a Serous Syndar named Aailmyr. Over the last few years Aailmyr has become an increasingly noteworthy lower noble in the Syndar community around the City of Newhope. He is well regarded by the Syndar populace and has proven himself time and time again to be a strong advocate for the needs of the people of all races living in his district as well as the Syndar people as a whole. With City-State research being unloaded from the council and placed on Ravens University, the open seat on the council will have the ability to focus far more on the growth of culture and the continued success of the city itself. An official proclamation is expected soon.

Murmurs swirl around the docks of Aylin’s Reach. Word has come down from on high that Aylin is ready to move forward with settling and setting up a harbor on one of the larger uninhabited islands to the North East of Clan Whiteoak. This land will drastically increase the overall size of Aylin’s Reach and bolster their access to raw resources as well as create an area that could serve as a hub and harbor for ships traveling in the North East Sea of Mardrun and could act as a supply-stop for excursions into the swamp from it’s eastern shores. Prospective settlers vibrate with excitement over this upcoming new venture.

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Aesa Nightriver

PLAYED BY: Jessica Beardsley
CHARACTER NAME: Aesa (A – s – uh) Nightriver
GENDER: Female
PRONOUN(S): She/her
CLASS: Warrior
AGE: 25
RACE: Ulven
HAIR: Black
EYES: Blue
OCCUPATION: None
KNOWN SKILLS: Physical labor, Agriculture.
BIRTHPLACE: Nightriver Territory
NOTABLE TRAITS: Softspoken and a bit shy
RELATIONSHIPS: None
BIO / BACKGROUND HISTORY:
Aesa grew up in a small farming village that was close to a day’s walk from the Settlement of New Hope. From a young age Aesa would fantasize about adventures and living a life more exciting that the one she was currently living. She would constantly pretend to fight imaginary enemies In between
chores. Often her parents would often scold her for getting distracted.
Aesa would continue living the Farmer life and would help deliver supplies and goods to New Hope. Every time they would go, she would become enamored with the lifestyle and commodities of the colonists. This only served to feed her desire to venture out and explore the rest of the world. Her family were not as thrilled with the idea. They didn’t want to see their daughter get hurt or end up abandoning their customs.
During the time of the Civil war Aesa longed to help and fight but her parents would talk her out of it. They would remind her that she was doing her part by supplying food to the ones fighting and to those seeking asylum in the territory. No matter how hard Aesa tried to be happy and content with
farming she couldn’t shake the need for adventure.
Eventually the Discontent became too much, and Aesa started saving up to acquire the equipment to start her journey. Her family tried desperately to stop her but her mind was set. Finally, the day came, and she packed up her stuff and set out for New Hope. Even though she didn’t have any
real understanding of the world outside of her community, Aesa was determined to see this through. Once at New Hope She quickly started buying gear and armor. She was convinced by a blacksmith to invest in metal armor because it can take more punishment than leather. She chose to outfit herself with a combination of metal and leather to get the best of mobility and protection. Once she had the gear, she was happy with, Aesa started working small mercenary jobs. This satisfied her for a while
but the drive for bigger things started to build again. She started listening to the local gossip and rumors.
She eventually started to move from location to location, following what ever rumors sounded the most like the adventure she was always seeking.
Aesa continues to do mercenary work and follow her love of adventure.

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Matheus

Player Name : Nicholas Knight

Character Name : Matheus

Gender : Male

Pronouns : He/Him

Class : Cleric

Age : Born in the Autumn of 240. (do the math!)

Race : Human.

Hair : Brown.

Eyes : Blue.

Birthplace : Assumed Northern Vandergon but raised in a church near the Celestial Mountains.

Appearance : Has a scar across his face and over his right eye. Though this is if you see him without his armor as he typically never takes it off in the presence of others he doesn’t trust.

Occupation : Matheus is a wandering blade who makes his earnings through bounties, manual labor, assisting in repairs and healing the injured with either potions or first aid.

Notable Traits : Rather blunt and straight to the point. Doesn’t trust people who talk too much, practitioners of the arcane arts and most, if not all syndar. Other than that he’s known to be rather friendly and always willing to aid another though the cost of this help may vary.

Relationships: Tends to keep to himself though he has ties with Manetho and Zeke Ravana. Because of those ties he is more willing to assist them in most endeavors.

Known Skills : Is an expert blacksmith and alchemist, often experiments with mixing the two crafts in hopes of creating weapons that can harbor more power than the average weapon any other blacksmith can make. Though his skills are not limited to just this as he carves his way through the battlefields while also being able to tend to the wounded within it.

Rumors : “He looked ready to accept death, but it didn’t mean he wouldn’t fight for life first.”

“His distrust of the syndar and mages are about as bad as his distrust of organizations who, as he says, claim to be do-gooders.”

“Despite how he looks, apparently he hates when people resort to violence immediately when it’s unnecessary.” — “I heard he turned on his own allies for doing such a thing.”

Bio:

My dreams used to offer an escape from reality but now they’re filled with fire, smoke and death. As I wake from one such dream I can’t help but panic as I struggle to breathe, feeling as if I was still there with the smoke suffocating me. But as I look around there is no fire, only the roots of a tree entwined around me. Right, this is where I took shelter for the night… As I began to gather my belongings and don my armor I reached out for my tabard out of habit but stopping just short as I realized what I’m doing. What once was a vibrant red is now blackened by the ashes of yesterday, the symbol no longer discernible.

I should leave it… Even if it’s not what it once was and no longer has meaning to me, if someone were to discern its true meaning that could spell trouble. It’s not like I have the right to wear it anymore anyway. So I walked away, only looking back once at the tattered tabard as it was taken away by the wind. My eyes followed it until I noticed the darkened sky with its clouds promising rain, an ill omen for sure… From there I began scanning my surroundings to get a feel for where I might be. The sights, though it has been quite some time were all too familiar with the Hackles to the west, I knew I was in Nightriver territory once more and with that memories of the past begin to creep their way back but I shake it off. Now isn’t the time, with the possibility of rain closing in I needed to move though I wasn’t sure where…

I traveled northeast, hoping to avoid any unnecessary confrontation with the ulven I avoided the roads, only crossing them as they came. Slowly the storm I feared caught up as the rain pelted me from all sides. The only escape from this downpour within eyeshot was a forest. As I made my way to the forest I couldn’t help but feel off, as if someone or something was watching me, I chalked it up as paranoia given the circumstances. As I entered the forest the downpour lessened to a mere drizzle thanks to the canopy but the feeling of eyes upon me remained.

I began to set up camp, breaking branches and forming a makeshift tent to provide more protection for the elements and a small fire for warmth. As the fire started to grow illuminating the darkness, that’s when I heard the snapping of fallen branches behind. I turned to see what it could be but all I saw were their deep red eyes glowing from the light of the fire, mordok… one, two… three of them. I turned my back to them hoping to feign ignorance as I slowly reached for my sword and shield before they lept into action. I’ve faced mordok before and am well acquainted with their savagery but this time I was alone and they were all too eager to use their numbers against me.

As the battle ensued I used my surroundings to my advantage, making trees take the blows meant for me. One such attack left my enemy open to which I took the opportunity to introduce my blade to their gullet. With one down the other two became enraged and assaulted me with blow after blow. While my shield was able to protect me against one I could see it begin to splinter, unable to hold against the crushing blows. Not long until my armor began to give as well and eventually I could feel the plates digging into my flesh with every hit or movement I took. After my tower shield gave way I sacrificed my arm for an opening against the one who broke it, gutting him leaving only the one.

My breathing was labored and my vision began to blur, as I watched the last mordok. It was then I noticed a familiar tabard being worn by my attacker, immediately I could feel the anger growing inside me, this was no longer a matter of survival. The beast began saying something in its accursed tongue but it fell on deaf ears for I wanted nothing more than to cut it down. “I have faced death itself, you are NOTHING in comparison!” I shouted before lunging towards the creature. I left myself open, baiting out an attack and while they were able to cut across my torso I didn’t let it go unpunished as I severed its head from its body.

As the battle came to a close and the adrenaline wore off the severity of my wounds became clear. I had no feeling in my left arm and from the looks of it parts of my shield were embedded into it, my leg was badly damaged as well making it difficult to put any weight onto it but worst of all was the cut across my torso, my stomach was bleeding profusely. I pushed through the pain as I hastily began bandaging myself up, I knew if I were to delay for even a moment I may not have lived to see the next day. After I finished I looked to my torso and let out a painful chuckle. If Elinor or Henna would have seen this poor excuse for bandaging they’d have hit me but it’ll do for now until I find a healer. I looked to the last of the fallen mordok once more before removing the tabard now blackened even more by the blood of the beast…

Looking to where I came, remembering seeing a village a ways back and thinking if I made my way there maybe someone could help me. So I started walking and while my wounds were bandaged up the pain remained as my breathing became labored. From there I remember drifting in and out of consciousness, each time I awoke I found myself in a new area and sometimes it’d be light out and others it was dark. Before long it grew dark once more and I found myself walking down a road. I began to question how long have I been walking? How much longer will I last? Is this where I die… It was then when I saw a light down the road, I tried to yell for help but with my throat dried from blood all that managed to come out was a horrid cough. As I drew closer to the light I began pleading for help though my broken voice could only reach so far.

Once the light got close enough I was able to make out a blurred visage of what looked to be a man though after traveling so far the last of my strength gave way and I crumbled to the ground. As I laid there I looking to the sky, my vision began to fade with each passing second as a warm sensation flowed from my stomach once more, my wound must have opened again with the sudden fall… As I stared at the starry sky above I couldn’t help but think what a lovely sight to have to be my last. It was then when I heard the sounds of footsteps rapidly approaching, I could tell then my hearing was going as I was barely able to make out the muffled words “Damnit, hold on! This is gonna hurt but I need to stop the bleeding!”

Before the pain they spoke of started I slipped into darkness, no longer conscious as they did whatever it took to help me. Dreams of the past once again resurfaced, a raging fire spreading everywhere and the infighting of those who should have been considered kin, I called out names but there was no response. As the fire diminished a lich rose from the ashes with it the lifeless corpse of Henna. I fell to my knees to scream in anguish but before I could I began vomiting a black ichor, as I looked up to where Henna once was I saw myself, ruined armor, bandaged up but with that same black ichor coming out of my mouth and my wounds. Suddenly more ichor projected out of my mouth, as I look to the ground once more I realize I’m sinking into this inky black substance and as I try to pull away I sink deeper and deeper until it completely consumes me.

Next thing I knew my eyes opened, I immediately gasped for air as I awoke in a panicked state. I shot up to check my surroundings just to double over in pain. My breathing was quick, uneven and my body covered in sweat and unable to stop shaking. I looked around to see I was indoors, beside me laid splinters of wood and metal fragments from what I could only assume were from my armor. Where am I? What happened to me? All these questions and more ran through my head until I heard footsteps from another room approaching the door. I began to frantically look around for some sort of weapon in case I needed to defend myself but it was too late.

“Ah, you’re finally awake. How are you feeling?” speaking as she entered the room was a syndar woman with rather unique markings adorning her face. I was hesitant to respond as she didn’t look familiar and I was still uncertain of my safety.

“Relax if I wanted you dead you wouldn’t be awake right now.” I could sense the annoyance in her voice but she had a point.

“I feel tired, warm but yet cold. I can’t stop shaking either… How long was I out for?”

“Hmm, well that’s what happens when you fight mordok. They’re not the cleanest creatures so you were riddled with infections. Not to mention carrying something soaked in their blood while you have open wounds yourself isn’t the smartest thing to do. As for how long you were out, that depends: do you mean since the last time you were awake or since Zeke found you wandering the road half conscious?” She placed the back of her hand against my forehead, standard practice for checking for fevers.

“Since I was last awake? What do you mean by that?” I could feel panic setting in once more.

“You’ve been in and out of consciousness for the past week, whenever you woke up you were delirious, though you were only up for a few moments before falling back to sleep. Hmm good your fever broke though you’re probably feeling weak due malnutrition. Hold on.” She quickly left the room and my eyes went back to the pieces of metal at my bedside.

With her out of the room I began to examine my body, my arms were covered in stitched up wounds and as I looked at my stomach it too had a large wound that was surgically closed. As I sat there examining my wounds I couldn’t help but realize the numbness of my left arm. It wasn’t long after until the syndar returned with a bowl of what seemed to be stew.

“Go on, eat up. I don’t need you passing out again from hunger and it’ll help with the healing process.” she handed me the bowl and presumably due to not eating for who knows how long it was possibly the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten.

Once I finished the stew I couldn’t help but ask “Who are you? And who is this Zeke you mentioned? Also what happened to my armor and why do I have little to no feeling in my left arm?”

If looks could kill the one she gave me would have done it. “Firstly, instead of asking questions you could thank me for A. Saving your life and that arm of yours that you are referring to and B. For feeding you some of my own food. As for who I am, I am Manetho and the one who patched you up and brought you to me was Zeke Ravana. He’s somewhat of a bard.”

“Manetho. I think I’ve heard of you before.”

“I’m sure you have, now as for your armor and your arm. The armor was broken to the point where it was actually cutting into you, embedding itself into your flesh and needed to be surgically removed. Which brings us to your arm.. That’s where the brunt of the damage seemed to have been dealt, I’m assuming you typically use a shield judging by the splinters of wood I also had to remove. If anything you’re lucky you’re still able to use it though it will take some time for you to regain strength in it. I don’t recommend carrying around a big shield or anything for a while.” Her descriptions reminded me of Elinor, rather blunt and straight to the point. “Now how about you tell me who you are.”

Who am I? A coward. A man who lost everything and ran though I doubt she’d want to hear that. “Sorry, my name is.” I paused for a moment, if I tell her my name or anyone my name what would happen if that name spreads and reaches the order? They’d bring me in and brand me a deserter or worse, execute me. Maybe I shouldn’t go around telling people who I really am… “My name is Silas.” From there Matheus died and Silas was born. I spent the next month recovering from my wounds but once I was able to move more freely I went straight to work. Luckily a local blacksmith was willing to let me use his forge if I assisted in fulfilling orders that came in. So for the next few months I did just that and when I wasn’t making orders I was forging my new armor using my earnings to pay for the materials. I’d frequently check in with Manetho to see how the recovery was going, thankfully everything was healing well except my arm.

“I told you that arm is going to take more time. There’s a high chance you may never be able to use it like you used to either. Only time will tell but for now I recommend not lugging around a shield.” Her scolding reminded me more and more of Elinor everyday but I couldn’t complain as she allowed me to stay there until she deemed me well enough to no longer require her services. As days turned into weeks and weeks into months slowly my wounds turned into nothing more than scars and with that Manetho would release me from her care.

“Everything looks good… Here, before you go take this.” She held out an all too familiar tabard though now completely black from the blood and ash it had experienced. “I was able to fix it up but with everything it went through it’s permanently stained. You’re lucky I didn’t burn it since it was soaked in the blood of mordok. That stuff is extremely dangerous, you know. So try not to soak yourself in it again.” I couldn’t help but chuckle as I nodded. “Thank you for everything.” and with that I turned and walked away, leaving the village that took me in to start a new life not as Matheus but as Silas.

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Page 18

Lilith Nightriver

Played By: Bethany Peckham
Character Name: Lilith Nightriver
Gender: Female
Age: 35
Pronouns: She/Her
Class: Rogue
Race: Ulven
Trade: Alchemist, Laborer, Herbalist
Skills: Making delicious food and drink, Seeing the good in most situations, Rolling with the punches
(though not literally, please don’t punch me)
Bio:
Lilith was born in the year 235 to Rikart and Marla Nightriver. Rikart was a well known trade merchant and Marla the owner of a local tavern in Brattsholt. She was both brewer and chef of all the delicious cuisine. Growing up at the tavern was a learning environment in many ways for Lilith. Her father would host business meetings and many powerful, influential figures were in attendance. As a toddler she would often be present, playing quietly in a corner and listening to the proud confidence in her father’s voice. When she grew old enough to hold a knife her learning took place in the kitchen with her mother. She enjoyed the many recipes and careful workings that were needed to make the myriad of drinks and meals that would please people from all over Nightriver territories. There were times she felt like a master spellcrafter, surrounded by bubbling and boiling pots with steam filling the room she would toss in the next ingredients with a soft cackle and throw her head back in to a roar of laughter.
When Lilith was 15 there was talk of outsiders. A people different from her own, flat teeth and mere copies of eachother. Some of the Ulven from Brattsholt left to fight the unknown, few came back. After a year of fighting, her father, who had become the village leader by this time, had decided to take a stand. He gathered some like minded Ulven leaders and traveled to meet with these “unknowns”… these “humans”. They went to the city of New Hope. A truce was struck between the Ulven and the Colonists
and the fighting stopped.

Over the next years of Lilith’s life much remained the same. Work in the tavern, brew the concoctions, serve the patrons. Her father still held meetings, though they were more political in nature and less to do with the local trade routes. She would overhear a few things while bringing in the meal and feel blessed that her parents weren’t pushing her to take on more of a role in her father’s politics. She found the new clientele rather interesting for a while. After the truce was set colonists started to
make their way into Brattsholt. They would bring with them many different trinkets and clothes but what intriqued her the most were the stories. Tales of sea voyages and battles with monsters. Lilith had never ventured far from home, there was never a need, so she felt that nothing that exciting must be out there. Her imagination began to run wild.

As the influx of Colonists and Ulven grow in Brattsholt the town is in need of a Job Coordinator. Lilith has tired of the daily routine and takes the job as a way to strike out on her own. She enjoys meeting new folk and seeing the town prosper as things get done. A few months into the season Bandits
start harassing them. These were well armored than most brigands and they wouldn’t be deterred. After seeming to disway the hooligans momentarily, Lilith and the leaders of the town managed to evacuate the townspeople and most of the valuables. The Raiders returned in force and burned Brattsholt to the ground.

After many tears and help from other clans the town is able to get back to a working order. Lilith is distraught over the ransacking of her home. She felt helpless in both the defense of her village and in helping to heal the town. Decades of a passive life way heavy on her mind. Saying a heartfelt goodbye to her parents, Lilith packs her few belongings and ventures off to find a way to help those in need.

Through her travels she started to learn the ways of Alchemy and Herbalism. Many of the basics she had already grasped through all of her ‘playing’ in the kitchen. Taking lessons from those she finds while passing through towns increased her knowledge. At one such town Lilith was working alongside some Stormjarl Ulven. They told her of a village that was plagued by an odd sickness that was unexplainable. She agreed to go with them and see what she could do to help.

After traveling with the Stormjarl for a few months she felts that the views of the Stormjarl Clan align with her own. Lilith joined the Einherjar of Stormjarl to learn from them and to expand her knowledge in Alchemy and herbalism.

If she can use some of her newly aquired skills to help others,
then that is what she is meant to do.

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Page 18

Orla Madhava

Played By: Bethany Peckham

Character Name: Orla Madhava

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/her

Class: Rogue

Age: 39

Race: Human

Hair: Brownish/Blackish

Eyes: Blue

Occupation: Soldier/ Mercenary/ Armed Escort/ Knee Breaker/

Known Skills: Blacksmithing, Surviving, Horsmanship,

Birthplace: A small town in the Oasis on Faedrun

Appearance: Nothing remarkable, though slightly battle scarred

Bio/Backstory:

Mahsai of the True May’Kar

Arjuna Madhava’s Journal

235-

The fighting has become closer and I’ve been hearing word that the May’Kar soldiers are now attacking the Vandregon units. I don’t know what has gotten in to them. Uilium will be leaving come dawn. It will be difficult for him to fight against his fellow brothers but this penitent sickness has seemed to overwhelm our beautiful oasis. I can not bring myself to believe they have all forgotten what we have been fighting for these many years. So this is why I call it a ‘sickness’.

Uilium will be traveling with a few other farmers. There is a Vandregon unit close by that they will fight alongside. It has been years since he has used his steel for killing but I know he is a survivor and I will see him again. I must see him again and little Orla is only 2 and needs her father around.

236-

There has been no word from the Vandregon unit that Ulium has joined. More and more of the townsfolk have gone missing or are outright dying. I thought I saw the baker’s wife the other day, though she was shambling about down an alleyway. I didn’t dare go near for fear she had caught some undead sickness. I have spent the last few weeks preparing to leave. Most of the stores have gone dark. No one to work them I suppose. But I need supplies so I sneak in and gather what I can carry. My last stop will be the blacksmith. Orla will need to learn to fight with something. It will be many years before she can lift my sword.

236-

The horses are packed heavy with food and water. Luckily our house is close to the mountains. I know of an abandoned shelter where I hope we will be left alone. I can’t hold out for my husband’s return, it has become too dangerous here.

246-

Orla turns 13 in a few days. Ulium would be proud of the fighter she has become. When he and I were in the May’Kar guard together he could rarely best me in the training battles. Those days are so far gone now they are but a dream. I am doing my best to teach Orla everything I know. We have been able to sustain ourselves fairly well on our own here. The land has given us what we need for food and I have been able to teach her a few blacksmithing ways to mend the armor and fix the weapons. As a member of the guard you always had to know these things. I had no idea the situation I would be teaching them in. I always imagined her father would be teaching her these things. He always was a better mender than me.

Evening is close and it is time to put out the fires. 13 years without a fire at night to keep one warm is miserable. Though to have the fires bring the undead to our door would be worse.

250-

My excursions down the mountain have been difficult. A few months back I ventured down to a small town. After observing it for a few hours there seemed to be no evidence of the undead. Maybe because I went away from the Oasis? I went closer in and heard people speaking of a new continent. There were sea voyages that were meant to take people to safety. Somewhere the undead have not reached. I also heard talk of how the May’Kar had betrayed their fellow man, fighting with the Penitent. And how this undead plague and it’s fanatics were taking over everything.

Once again this place is not safe. We must find safe passage on to one of those ships.

251-

Finally we have made it to the southern end of Vandregon Territory. The paths were difficult as we kept to smaller roads. I’ve talked to one of the Captains of a larger vessel. He will be able to take both of us but not our horses. It is difficult to part with our old friends but if it is what we must do. I sold them to an honest looking fellow and bought a small hand cart to hold all of our belongings. Orla did not take the selling of her only friend very well. Poor girl. She has had no one to speak with but me and the horses for her 18 years. I fear the seclusion was not good for her social skills, but I had little option. The ship will sail in the morning.

256- Orla Madhava’s Journal

Well my mother was writing in this thing all the time it seemed. She said it helped to keep her centered, or connected, or something. So, thought I should give it a try. Here we go.

Let’s see, it’s been a few years now since she has passed on. Looks like her last entry was when we sailed to Mardrun. That was a terrible experience. If I don’t ever get on a boat again I will be happy, as will my stomach. She was right about me missing our horses, I never really forgave her for that. I told them everything I felt since I was little. They always would look back with their big loving eyes. Anyways, I know why she had to sell them, but it still hurts.

Moving on. We made ourselves a home in New Hope. That’s where all the colonists were allowed to stay. Venturing outside of that was a sort of ‘At your Own Risk’ thing. Mother was certainly not about to take any risks. Not after what she experienced back at home in the Oasis. I don’t remember that first home. I was too young. She would tell me about it though. Stories about my father and her when they were younger. The Mahsai, the True May’Kar Warriors. She never wanted me to forget where I came from. The True May’Kar that believed it didn’t matter what you believed, just that you did. She wanted me to wear her armor and be proud of it, not ashamed. I was never ashamed of her or father. I hope she knew that.

Well, it looks like some soldiers have just returned. I best warm up the forges, they will need some mending. I suppose this journal writing might be helpful after all.

261-

Okay so a lot has been going on. Things in New Hope are busy. It’s been ten years since we came over from Faedrun. Having only heard about the Syndar and Ulven before there is certainly more chance to get to know them here. Many customs and beliefs to learn about.

I have heard talk of this Coalition. I wonder if they are looking for more fighters? I have kept up on the training from my mother but I want to put it to use. There’s been talk of Undead on Mardrun. I’d like to get some payback.

262-

So life with the Coalition is a bit…hectic. I finally got some revenge for my father and killed some undead. You would think it would be easier to tear through a bag of bones. Nothing prepares you to fight rotting corpses. Nothing. After they destroyed the Lich cleanup was overwhelming. There were disputes over burning the undead or burying them. I just did what they told me to do. Bury them, dig them up, burn them…it went on and on. I don’t know where we are headed when we break camp but I hope it is far from here.

263-

I’ve been meeting some more Ulven. Of course it has to be during a war. I suppose when you work as a soldier that’s how you meet most people. There’s a lot of dislike amongst some of the Ulven for the Colonists. I’ve been told we are fighting alongside the Nightriver clan, they think Colonists are okay. Me, I like to get to know someone first before I dislike them. Which seems to be most everyone. I suppose growing up in the mountains talking to horses doesn’t prepare you to talk with people.

266-

Years of war, one battle after another, is a grueling life. I wear my mother’s armor proudly, it has saved my life many times. There are those I have to set straight about the Mahsai, how not all of the May’Kar had defected to the Penitent side. Wearing it certainly doesn’t make me any instant friends, but that’s not what I’m looking for anyways. The Ulven that I’ve met and fought alongside are good peoples. Hardy warriors and strong in their beliefs. Family and Clan based and loyal to their friends. Not that any of them would consider me as close as a friend, just not an enemy I suppose.

270-

I’ve been summoned into one of the leaders tents. They have taken a few others in for what appears to be questioning, but over what, I don’t know…

Well that was unexpected. Apparently keeping to yourself and being quiet gets you put on a top secret mission. Seems The Order is heading in to the Dirge Swamps to find some Stone. When it comes to fodder, nothing beats someone with zero attachments.

271-

Being a hired sword doesn’t seem that bad. Let me back up a bit. After fighting Mordok in the Swamps, which was nasty and horrible, I decided to not return to the Coalition. They have treated me well over my many years with them and I had gained experiences that I would otherwise have never obtained. But I am getting too old to be fighting peoples wars. That’s not me. Fighting small groups of bandits on the other hand, that I can do. With pleasure. I have a few contacts that can get me jobs at different locations across Mardrun.

I will just see where this half of my life takes me now.

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Page 18

Fynch

CHARACTER NAME: Fynch

GENDER: Male

PRONOUN(S): doesn’t matter to him how they are addressed

CLASS: Mage

AGE: 29

RACE: Syndar

HAIR: Dark black in color

EYES: Green

OCCUPATION: Arcane researcher

KNOWN SKILLS: Really enjoys learning (not really a skill but he enjoys it)

APPEARANCE: Relatively short and frail

NOTABLE TRAITS: Wears red face paint over his eyes

BIO / BACKGROUND HISTORY: I was young when I left Faedrun, 7 I think. I don’t remember much of the early years of my life. I was taught and got a good education. My name was Lumirian back then, I was born of silver skin to two Io’Larian who can only be described as birth givers. I never knew them. I knew of them as it was knowledge and all knowledge is my birthright.

Growing up when you’re told you’ll be great but taught to look down on those who look up to you, it doesn’t make you feel like a leader. But I never wanted to lead, I only ever cared about learning. In my education I had one professor by the name of Gerthyrd. He was wise, more wise than any I have ever met. He instilled values in me, “always ask questions, and if you don’t like the answer then change it” he would tell me. The “Enlightened” had a thing for rules and schedule but Gerthyrd would never nag me about such things, besides who has time for sleep or speechcraft when there is a world of mysteries to be explored.

Gerthyrd was my teacher for many years, He taught me over on Faedrun and chose to accompany me over to this strange new world. He always said it was because “ I can’t leave my favorite brightest pupil” But I think he wasn’t asked to come anyway, as one of the “Enlightens” best scholars. There were few other Syndar who could match Gerthyrds drive and nack for finding answers in the most unlikely places. A fine example was the time he (quite by accident) discovered that the short legged Borgus moth were in fact parasitic and laid their eggs inside the shell of red crested snail, which when hatched would proceed to eat the snail. Something never before documented. I digress, Gerthyrd was my mentor for as long as I can remember and I wouldn’t be where I am today without him.

At around the age of 18 Gerthyrd and I were traveling the continent researching our findings. Learning ways of Ulven, the soil properties of the outlands, how much venom a pignose worfbat could produce. It was during these travels we ran into another small group of Syndar. A disagreement in research and findings led into a rather nasty fight. Gerthyrd was killed and I barely managed to escape.

As I aged I changed my name and spent several years traveling the continent learning the ways of all the people. The ways the Ulvan interacted, the breeding habits of the local fish, what plants were familiar from the old world. I learned and journaled all of my findings. I wasn’t always accepted by the locals, in fact more often than not I was turned away. But in time I learned. I still continue to learn.