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October 2023 – An End to the Madness

Word spreads from Clan Shattered Spear. Their prolonged war effort against the Mordok is showing promising signs of coming to a final conclusion. Thanks to the strength of the Shattered Spear warriors as well as the unquestionable support from some of their trusted allies, the Mordok forces have been pushed back to where this all began: the village of Silfurfal, known to some in whispers and rumors as “The Maddened Village”

Reports have come in that the village has been bolstered and barricaded and that a large Mordok force has taken up residence inside along with the same villagers that have been plaguing the area. More alarming is that several reports have included mention of one of the mysterious blue-clad Mordok seemingly leading the forces within the village. This combined force has dug in deep and in response the Shattered Spear warpacks have surrounded the village and begun the process of setting siege.

As the camps come together Shattered Spear sends out a request for aid once more. From their request it’s clear that they feel this will be the final battle of this campaign and they seem almost excited to share this moment with the people of Mardrun as a whole. There is even promise of a great feast for any who come to help see this bloody chapter to its conclusion.

All this being said, it’s clear that aid will still go a long way in this endeavor. While Shattered Spear may be able to front the bulk of a siege force to bring Silfurfal to heel, any prolonged siege will in all likelihood spell the death for any Ulven still within the village as the Mordok inside would turn to devouring them long before they were able to be starved out. A large showing of force will allow Shattered Spear warriors to move north around the village and cut off any incoming Mordok reinforcements while a second overwhelming force presses into the village to remove the Mordok foothold once and for all.

People from around Mardrun flock to Shattered Spear lands, eager to see to the end of this most recent Mordok invasion and show once again that the people of Mardrun stand united against the Mordok onslaught. The banners of several Shattered Spear allies are already present in the various siege camps, no doubt personally invited by Shattered Spear leadership ahead of the public calls.

Soon the lands surrounding Silfurfal are filled with people from all walks of life, ready and willing to lay siege or support those who do.

-=Update=-

Under the banners of Shattered Spear and their allies, the warriors marched on Silfurfal. Though an early winter chill gripped the landscape the people found themselves stalwart in their task. Unfortunately the opposition was quick to meet them. A couple of skirmishes broke out on the road leading up to the village as the allied forces worked to push the Mordok and their corrupted villagers out of the way.

The battles were brief, but incredibly bloody. The allied forces suffered severe damage to their bodies and their equipment, but held firm and were able to rout, kill, or capture their enemies. A small handful of villagers and even an unfortunate corrupted Ulven trader that was caught in the area were able to be taken back to the camps to be cleansed and healed.

The second skirmish of the day saw the return of the Alpha that plagued the allied forces during their last push into the area some months back, but more alarming was the appearance of one of the strange, Blue-Clad Mordok. It appeared smaller than the other Mordok, but dressed in much finer clothing and showed a preference for deep, rich blues. Despite its smaller stature, the rest of the Mordok showed it an incredible amount of deference, often hunching even lower when it was nearby. The Blue-Clad Mordok and the Alpha pulled out of the fight early, seemingly satisfied with the damage and poisoning that they had caused. With this, the allied forces were able to push the Mordok and their corrupted Ulven allies back to the village.

With the village outskirts cleared, Shattered Spear and its allies moved their siege camp up. Removing any remaining stragglers and saving a couple more villagers, the new camp was set up on a hill across from the village and the sound of blacksmithing and horns of war could be heard as the siege reached a new phase.

After an engineer assessed the defenses, the next couple of hours had the allied forces bring a battering ram to the gates of Silfurfal and, through a torrent of arrows and spells, set to the tedious, back-breaking work of turning the proud gate into splinters. Villagers and Mordok spilled through cracks in the wall and assaulted the flanks of the siege party and at times forced them into a retreat to reorganize. The Blue-Clad Mordok’s poisoned arrows nearly caused multiple deaths, but equally shocking was when a handful of warriors heard it mock them in their own tongue as they retreated. Each round of ramming the gate caused great amounts of broken equipment and bloodshed, but the allied forces remained stalwart and returned repeatedly to see the job through.

Before the gate was able to be broken, one of the allied warriors stepped forward and challenged the Alpha to an honor duel. The Blue-Clad Mordok spoke up in trade speech and accepted the duel, sending the Alpha forward as its champion. A tense energy held the collective warriors as they watched the duel progress. Both combatants fought with unrelenting force, and the Ulven warrior was repeatedly thrown around the fighting ground as the Alpha’s ax struck with an unstoppable pushing force. In the end they both fell to each other’s blades in the grips of their unbridled rage, and shock took both armies before the brief silence was broken. The Mordok attempted to claim the body of the fallen Ulven warrior, but the allied forces charged forward with fury and were able to push in to reclaim him. The warrior was successfully rescued during the chaotic fighting and brought back to camp where he was immediately tended to by a healer.

Breaking down the gate and holding the Mordok forces proved to be a great challenge, and the Warpack leader and rest of the siege camp found themselves having to make a difficult choice. They had only been somewhat successful with saving villagers during the gate sieging, and many more villagers were dying during these fights than in the outskirts. The opinions of all were taken into consideration as it was to be decided if the new focus would be saving the villagers at the cost of taking the village, or if they would still focus on taking the village and accept the increased casualties of the corrupted people of Clan Shattered Spear. After heated discussion and a close vote, it was decided that the village had to be taken at the cost of the villagers. While some additional villagers were able to be saved as the siege continued, many more had to die to keep the siege successful.

With the cracking of wood and a hail of splinters, the gates of the village were shattered and a volley of arrows and magic spewed outward from the village as the allied forces pushed their way inside. The Blue-Clad Mordok was seen laughing and taunting the allied forces as its body dissipated into the mana stream, taking with it the fallen Alpha’s seemingly enchanted ax. Any semblance of order quickly dispersed as fighting spread throughout the village. A small number of villagers were captured and brought to the camp to be cleansed, but the majority had to be cut down and executed where they lay. In the final minutes of sunlight, surrounded by the blood of Ulven villagers, a team of ritualists cleansed the Corruption Idol in the middle of the village that is believed to have jump-started this entire brutal chapter in Shattered Spear history; hopefully bringing it to a close.

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October 272 – News and Rumors

The harvest season is in full swing across Mardrun. The areas that are not currently locked in battle with the Mordok have started building up their stores for the coming winter. Luckily Clan Goldenfield has had a bumper crop year and they’ve already begun to set aside excess grains and vegetables to be sent to Shattered Spear to make up for their lost harvests. As people mill through towns and villages, trying to get the most of the last few warmish weeks before things begin to wind down they bring with them News. And. Rumors!

The newest member of the Newhope Council, Duke Aailmyr, has been hard at work since he took up his new title. The Syndar District of Newhope has seen a great amount of activity in the recent months. It seems that the invention of Enchanting has caught the eye of many of the Syndar of Newhope as they see it as a way to help work toward restoring some of the cultural glory of their peoples on Faedrun. To this end Duke Aailymr put forth the capital to start a training program for young Syndar within the city who wish to take up this trade and help to bring back the delicate beauty of Syndar magic works. The pale blue arcane lamps that recently began to illuminate the Newhope Market District have been revealed to be the first of many projects that Aalimyr has planned to bring a kiss of Syndar culture to Newhope. Only time will tell how this young Duke will leave his fingerprints on Newhope.

Further news from Newhope! The Council has been hard at work building diplomatic ties with the strange Syndar from the Outlands. It seems that these efforts have begun to pay off. A small delegation of Northern Syndar have agreed to travel to Newhope and to develop a proper understanding of the people in the South. Duchess D’Argent sent a ship along the west coast of Mardrun and picked up the visitors from the outpost on the western side of The Outlands and brought them back to the docks of Newhope. The voyage went well and reports say that the seas were calm and that little more was seen than Ulven fishing boats off the coasts of Grimward territory. Newhope has pulled out all the stops and will spend the next few months attempting to ingratiate themselves to their new guests.

A chronicler has been working their way through Shattered Spear lands and recording the stories of any of the Ulven who were able to be saved from the grips of the strange madness that has been plaguing their lands. This scribe has begun detailing their findings in a book that they no doubt plan to sell, but some of the stories have escaped their grasp and found their way to the ears of eavesdroppers giving way to a series of rumors that have spread over the continent. The core truths that all of these rumors seem to hold is that the maddened Ulven all believed themselves to be fighting Mordok warriors at every turn when in reality they were fighting Ulven and Colonists the entire time. They also seemed to have believed the real Mordok to be nature spirits that had come from the forests to help them battle back the “massive Mordok army”. It is very common for these Ulven to pass out upon being cleansed and when they awake the last thing they remember is being surrounded by Mordok. Hopefully the assault on Silfurfal will see this bleak chapter in Shattered Spear history come to a close.

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Bella Shroom

PLAYED BY: Brenna Norton

CHARACTER NAME: Bella Shroom

GENDER: Female

PRONOUN(S): She/her

CLASS: Rogue

AGE: 26

RACE: Human

HAIR: Red

EYES: Hazel

OCCUPATION: The best damn cook this side of the Great Forest

KNOWN SKILLS: Cooking, Knives

BIRTHPLACE: Doesn’t get into it. She’s from a Village in Nightriver. Stop asking questions.

APPEARANCE: Usually wearing an apron or large gloves to protect from the fire, Bella is often clad in practical clothing to be ready to cook in any environment.

NOTABLE TRAITS: Would fight you for a potato. Doesn’t care if she’d lose if the potato looked tasty enough

RELATIONSHIPS: United Bulwark of Mardrun project (BoS) – Heard someone was looking for talented, brave people to help out in efforts along the Shield. Hate the thought of yall dying on an empty stomach or coming back after watching others die. Figured a good stew can go a long way.

RUMORS: Occasionally contacts the blackmarket for… harder to obtain ingredients. Just as likely to trade in food as with standard currency

BIO/BACKGROUND HISTORY:

Bella Shroom was raised alongside a roaring hearth and an abundance of food from what she can remember. Her early years on Faedrun are all but a memory as she grew and adjusted to the hustle and bustle that accompanies being a colonist on Mardrun living near Ulven territory. However, the land itself was healthy and invited all manner of flora and fauna to grow. All the nearby fields held herbs to season the meat the forest creatures gave, the water bubbled up to become stew and mead, and even the cool air helped keep food fresh for longer. Alas, she had to outshine the cooking she grew up with and decided to travel nearby townships and cities seeking new recipes and flavor combinations. All in search of her final destination – a town full of flavor so enticing she hoped to never leave.

Her travels took her far and wide, but never settling in any place for two long. Newhope, Aylin’s Reach, Bladehome… all manner of Ulven townships bringing forth unique and delicious dishes graced her travels. Occasionally, she’d stop by the small home at the border of Clan Nightriver and Newhope to check in with her parents and share some of the more interesting recipes discovered along the way. Food is best seasoned through sharing with those you care for and those you stand against opposition with – something Bella learned rather quickly during her travels in more dangerous climes.

Hearing of recent calls to aid for Clan Shattered Spear pushing back the Mordok Bella pivoted her interests: perhaps on the frontlines of battle her blooming skills could be put to the test; her skills to the skillet. Bella joined the effort under the United Bulwark of Mardrun and started the long journey north to feed those poor, flavor deprived soldiers. Her goal is simple: give a spark of light to those burdened by the defense of Mardrun through the warmth and comfort of home cooking.

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A Shadow of Hope

Journal date 214 of the Commonality Calendar, 2^nd night of Oasis post defense:

Nights here are unsettling at best and screams are often heard from dusk until dawn. Waves of dead bash against our shields and every moment we find ourselves on the hard chairs of the nearby tavern are a luxury. We lost several after darkness fell, but that’s become standard as we travel across the desert no matter where our garrison stops.

Tonight, however, was a bit different.

While I stood ready, bones shaking from the shriek of a nearby Banshee, I heard a disturbance from the direction of the tavern – a Wraith. Cloaked in black as if in permanent mourning, the Wraith almost glided through the side gate. I dare say that we would have all perished there had the Wraith decided to take advantage of the confusion. Just as fast as she appeared she was gone; sliding back into the shadows cast by the dancing lanterns nearby. I was later told she likely recalled out, but it was strange to think why. All undead seek only death and destruction, so why was the Wraith unlike the rest. The lingering thoughts were soon forgotten as I turned to face the still present danger of the Banshee and a few lingering zombies.

Calm soon followed the Banshee’s retreat. Cleaning wounds, tending to the fatigued, and doing our best to bury the lost filled some time after the onslaught. Left to my own devices and finding a brief respite I sought out the tavern once more. I was savoring stew and honey buttered bread when one of the May’kar squad leaders gave an exclamation of panic. Undead, and just standing in the camp waiting for… something. Once more, the Wraith was amongst us. I barely got a glance of the light on her skeletal form as once more the shadows claimed her. With no need for me to draw my sword, I finished my stew with an increasingly unsettling feeling forming in my stomach. Why was the Wraith waiting for us? During the day I’d witnessed her might in casting down the stalwart Vandregonian and May’kar alike. While likely above my paygrade I found myself locked into finding the answer to the newfound undead riddle.

As midnight approached, I readied myself for a change of the guard. My chance to pray even more fervently that the undead find other places to corrupt with their presence. Locked in my thoughts, I heard one of the tavern ladies approach. She was a friendly sort, if not slightly addled by the grotesque times we now live in. I first thought she only came to complain of unruly tavern goers, but then more information matched previous descriptions of the Wraith… All black, quite even when offered all manner of beverages and refreshments – seeming to want something but unable to convey what. I watched as the Tielorrien mage walk forward and began quiet conversations.

We were speaking with an undead; not a Blood Mage, not a Penitent addled and lost with calamity, but with undeath itself. A crowd gathered within the tavern just inside the lantern light and I inched as close as I could without leaving my post. I heard whispers throughout the crowd as we watched with bated breath. My hand hovered over my sword, certain that I could not save the mage but confident to at least shield the nearby caravanners. I watched once more as the impossible happened – the Tielorrien walked away, back turned to the Wraith as she melted into the black of night. We hadn’t just spoken with the dead, we’d survived without a fight and without our blood on the ground. I found myself near tears at the thought of Illyara blessing us tonight.

I returned to my watch, unable to slip away from my duties to ask more of our mysterious visitor. Luckily, I was stationed close enough to a few squad leaders talking over the recent events with our most brave mage. The Wraith was a mother looking for her child and was worried we’d hidden them away from her embrace. A mother like the countless we’d had to place on caravans to move towards the coast as we buried their children. Like the countless more who undoubtably joined the lost as they ran back into contested ground at the sliver of hope their child’s safety had. I had heard about the Oasis’s dire situation some time ago upon arrival, with tales of children being tasked to dig to safety until tunnels collapsed and food ran scarce. I fret to think this Wraith’s, this mother’s, child was amongst those buried in near futile attempts to escape the Undeads’ push towards the Oasis. Perhaps it was so.

I write this tonight as I find myself unable to sleep after the new happenings. The undead are not all willing participants of carnage and corruption. Not all seek our total annihilation and break from sanity; some simply willed for an impossible future so ardently they remained alive after death to seek resolution. They became undead through love to find their child.

The Wraith will soon find we know not of her child. Perhaps the mages and those of better understanding will be able to quell her rage and loss and peacefully ferry her away. I will send another prayer to Ilyara for it to be so. I now hold my blade understanding that we will one night need to bare arms against the Wraith, but I can now only see myself baring it against a mother. I know what I must do; but do I have the strength to carry through? Only my desperation will tell.

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Latać Sokolov

PLAYED BY: Ryan Ulatt

CHARACTER NAME: Latać (pron: LAH-TAHch) Sokolov

GENDER: Man

PREFFERED PRONOUN(S): He/Him

CLASS: Cleric

AGE: 25

RACE: Human

HAIR: Brown

EYES: Blue

OCCUPATION: A Wandering Medic. Latać dedicates his life to the healing of others, no matter who. He charges nothing and expects no payment, after all, what time is there for payment when one is dying on the floor or recovering from a grievous wound? To further his purpose, Latać joined the charitable Golden Hand, a group of like-minded comrades who share the same overlapping goal of the free assistance of others and who have the support structure to make sure he, himself can survive.

KNOWN SKILLS: Latać is primarily skilled, or at least knowledgeable, in various medical practices.

BIRTHPLACE: Latać was born in a small village on the southwestern coastline of the Kingdom of Vandregon on Faedrun. He was the tenth son of eleven children born to the village doctor, Casimir Sokolov and his mother Masha Dragunova. He wasn’t particularly close with many of his siblings, only his younger sister of two years, Yulia. Because his parents were busy most days, either with caretaking or housework, Latać spent many of his days looking after Yulia and playing doctor, lovingly mimicking his father’s work.

APPEARANCE: Latać tries to keep as clean of an appearance as possible for a wanderer. He typically wears a cloak or coat of some sort, some gloves, and a pair of traveling pants and boots.

NOTABLE TRAITS: Latać is an ordinary fellow, his only outstanding trait is that he prefers to wear gloves to every occasion–it’s an extension of his medical profession and personal preference to keep as clean as he can.

RELATIONSHIPS: Other than his ties with his fellows of Golden Hand, his sister Yulia, and adoptive father Arend Falk, Latać has no other relationships. As a wandering medic, he goes where needed for a while then leaves. Of course, his rapport with patients is well and all, but further personal attachment is flatly rejected.

RUMORS: Latać is rumored to have murdered a man via purposeful malpractice. Who that man is varies from telling to telling, even the implements of the malpractice are different in each story. The only constant is that the murder was long and torturous for the victim

BACKGROUND/HISTORY:

Latać Sokolov was born to a family with ten other siblings in a small village on the southwestern coast of the Kingdom of Vandregon on Faedrun. His father, Casimir Sokolov, was the village doctor. Latać admired his father’s work and would mimic his medical practices when not looking after his younger sister, Yulia.

However, at the age of eight, with the Southern Army of Vandregon being decimated by the undead horde emerging from the destroyed Kingdom of Aldoria, Latać and his family made haste to evacuate from Faedrun to Mardrun. However, on the journey over to Mardrun, the majority of Latać’s family perished from consumption and hunger, leaving him and Yulia the only two survivors. The sight frightened Latać to no end, watching his family die, falling like flies owing to sickness. The day his beloved father died, Latać vowed to become a healer and act to prevent disasters like this from happening again.

Upon arrival at New Hope, Latać and Yulia were taken in by one of the medics sent to examine the refugees from Faedrun. The kind, old doctor Arend Falk, a man with no children nor wife, adopted the two orphans; Dr. Falk took the two as apprentices to his medical work, educating them as best he could. By the age of twenty, Latać had become a knowledgeable young medic and decided to head out on a journey, to heal as many people as he can. Yulia, another promising student, decided to stay behind and help Dr. Falk in his clinic.

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Edric Haye

PLAYED BY: Tucker Burdick

NAME: Edric Haye

CLASS: Warrior

AGE: 20

RACE: Human

HAIR: Blond

EYES: Blue

OCCUPATION: Roaming mercenary before joining the Golden Hand

KNOWN SKILLS: Armor Proficiency, Two-Handed, Tough.

BIRTHPLACE: The small village of Penshaw outside of New Aldoria

RELATIONSHIPS: Penshaw, due to his failure with his previous mercenary group, he was shunned from the town.

BIO:

Edric Haye was born in a small settlement on the rugged continent of Mardrun called Penshaw a day’s travel from New Aldoria. The settlement was plagued by frequent raids from bandits and rare raids from Mordok. The land’s untamed wilderness and the constant threat of Mordok attacks shaped Edric from an early age. Edric’s father was a fairly renown mercenary in the area and with the popularity also came the consequence of living in a constant state of possible attack. Gilbert, Edric’s father, saw that this was very mentally taxing on them, and he deemed that this area was far too dangerous of an area to raise his family, and not an environment he could see his young son thriving in. He would ultimately make the decision to move to a small port town named Birchwood and retire from his life as arms for hire.

At the ripe age of fifteen Edric was volunteered by his father, Gilbert Haye, to join a small band of mercenaries that had been contracted to protect Birchwood, as they didn’t encounter much danger and to keep the family tradition of working as arms for hire. Here Edric learned how to fight and become a mercenary. After one year Edic’s contract was completed and he decided to form his own mercenary band, with some minor retaliation and kickback from his dad, with other young fellow fighters in Birchwood that he had become very close with. His new group was called Blacklake. Blacklake’s first mission was to escort a pretentious up and coming elite whose first thought wasn’t to invest money into his escort rather to save a few coins after investing most of his trip’s money on clothes and hearty food. While this elite was in the town news spread quickly to neighboring criminal groups where plans for an ambush were quickly drawn up to attack the small caravan after its departure from Birchwood.

The night was cold and crisp, bundled with newly hand woven and sewn garments from the young mercenaries’ parents as a wish of good luck on their journey they departed with their newly acquired employer. As the night grew on the boys became tired so they decided to take shifts watching the caravan. As it came time for Edric’s turn to watch the sun had just barely graced the horizon and the birds had just begun to sing. The grass was covered in a half-frozen dew and a light crisp breeze graced his face as he poked his head out of the wagon. A large section of his watch went well, nothing out of the ordinary, everything was quiet, the only sound that emitted from the caravan was the sound of hooves on half frozen mud, creaky wagon axels, and the occasional cough from the wagon drivers. Before his watch Edric found it very hard to get to sleep out of his pure excitement that they were finally on their first detail, let alone a detail from a nobleman, he thought this was too good to be true. This left Edric waking up groggy and unfocused by the time his watch had come around. About fifty yards down the path a small trap lay where thieves built up a sizable force ready to attack the unsuspecting caravan. The trap was a small pit dugout with a blanket of foliage covering the top. By the time the caravan had reached the trap it was too late. The front left wagon wheel of the lead wagon fell in and suffered heavy damage. This was exactly what the band of thieves had hoped for. In one instance a flock of cloaked individuals with face shrouds darted from bushes and trees lunging at the lightly defended caravan. Edric, not completely knowing what was happening, drew his sword and clashed with one of the burglars. In the commotion the rest of the Blacklake mercenaries jumped from their wagon that they were resting in half awake and hastily equipped armor. The novice fighters were no match for the veteran thieves that were attacking. Before anyone truly got their sense the caravan was destroyed. Edric, finally fending off his attacker, he would turn, ready to face the rest of this attacking faction, would spin to his horror to see the rest of his band of brothers cut down. The sheer sight of seeing his close friends sent him into a panicked frenzy, ultimately deciding to drop his weapons and dart into the dark unknown woods. In freight of returning to his town and deemed a coward he chose a voluntary exile. Edric, being as young as he was, had no idea how to properly survive in the wilderness. For the next week he would wander aimlessly through the labyrinth of trees, forging whatever berries he was taught were safe to eat during his youth, he would eventually find himself starved. After succumbing to his malnutrition, he slumped over accepting his fate. But like a holy hand extending from the heavens a group marked with purple banners and a golden hand insignia came to his aid. They offered him food and shelter, and in return he signed a contract to work for the group as a personal bodyguard for the elites of the group. To this day he still remains a loyal and unwavering guard of the group that helped him when his world was stripped away from him.

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August 272 – News and Rumors

<Insert Framing Device Here> It’s News and Rumors, Baby!

Work crews have been spotted throughout the Merchant District in Newhope over the last couple months. They’ve been seen carrying crates and installing sconces and lanterns along the street ways, but for some reason none of these new light sources had been seen to produce any flames. People on the street asked the workers what they were up to and the most they were told is that the workers were on official Newhope business and that they were not yet at liberty to say. The days carried on until one night, just after dusk, in unison the lights slowly came to life. A clean, bluish glow blanketed the streets and chased away the shadows. Thanks to the recent discovery and adaptations of the new school of enchantment, for the first time since the fall of Tielorrien, arcane lights illuminated the streets of a major city. There is little doubt that this pilot project will lead to the expansion of enchanted lights across Newhope and perhaps further.

A Silver Celestine has been making rounds through villages all across Mardrun. He’s been preaching some words about the importance of Magic and the Old Ways and trying to draw interest in his talks about how the recent revelations of The Mana Stream and the Siphoning affect the very livelihoods and traditions of The Syndar people. He’s still a relative unknown at this point, but his public displays are sure to make him easy to track down for anyone who is interested to hear his words first hand.

Shattered Spear continues their counterpush against the Mordok forces! Things seem to be going relatively well at this point. Thanks to the aid of some stalwart allies, Shattered Spear continues to push the Mordok back toward The Swamp. The fighting remains consistent and the Mordok do not give ground easily, but nevertheless the warriors of Shattered Spear and their allies do not show signs of tiring yet. Some reports do come back from the front that tell of maddened Ulven attacking the Shattered Spear forces. It seems that most of them are able to be incapacitated and cleansed, but some are not so lucky and are forced to be put down by their own Clansmen. Additionally, some have sent word that they’ve recently seen one or two of the strange Blue-Clad, upright Mordok far behind the Mordok lines, giving commands and coordinating troops. What this means for the future no one can be sure yet, but in recent history these Blue-Clad Mordok’s presence has proven to increase the resolve and tactical-mindedness of the Mordok hordes.

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July 2023 – The Key’s Crossing Market Faire

Word has stretched across Mardrun with the announcement of the location of the Annual Market Faire. This year the responsibility and honor has fallen on Key’s Crossing, home of The Ravens. Their settlement has recently undergone an incredible boom in growth and they have officially become a State sanctioned under the authority of Newhope and as such have been given the opportunity to showcase their growth and prosperity.

Before long flyers and criers are seen across Mardrun inviting people to come and join in the festivities of the annual Market Faire. There are boasts of unique grand tournaments and contests. There are subtle mentions of chairs followed by absolute clarification that there will be NO CHAIRS at Keys Crossing, followed again with conspicuous winks. There are announcements of the accepted invitations from a great number of merchants and caravaneers so that there will be no shortage of shopping options.

Soon the cobblestone streets and market squares of Keys Crossing, already festooned with banners and garlands, are filled with throngs of travelers. The taverns pack tight and ply patrons with special concoctions. The Public Market Square erupts into life as local merchants hock their wares to out of town travelers. The City of Keys Crossing, already home to the happiest people on Mardrun, erupts with life.

UPDATE:

The day came and went, filled with mirth and good times. Contests were held and victors declared. Medals were given and prize purses distributed. There was even a successful attempt at enchanting held in the woods safely away from the faire goers. Liquor flowed freely through the Faire Grounds of Key’s Crossing as laughter and joy marked the success of this jovial expression of The Raven’s pride in the growth and prosperity of their home.

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Yrsa Gloomhorn

PLAYED BY: Kelly Timmons

CHARACTER NAME: Yrsa Gloomhorn

GENDER: Female

PREFERRED PRONOUN(S): She/Her

CLASS: Mage

AGE: 35

RACE: Ulven

HAIR: Bushy Brunette/Blonde, sometimes braided, but it is usually covered with a hood.

EYES: Green

OCCUPATION: Character lives as a Hermit with Nomadic tendencies because of her upbringing and past, but she spends her time collecting herbs and mushrooms for cooking, potions, tinctures, etc.

KNOWN SKILLS: Gathering skills, hunting, fishing, cooking, some stealth, identifying plants, mushrooms, and fauna, survival techniques, sorcery, some sword and dagger

BIRTHPLACE: Due to her upbringing, it is really unclear as to where she exactly originated, but it is speculated she either came from Clan Spiritclaw or Clan Goldenfield.

APPEARANCE: She is usually wearing a skull mask and robes, her face shrouded in mystery. She usually is adorned in natural colors to try and blend in with her surroundings. Sometimes she wears ornaments such as jewelry.

NOTABLE TRAITS: Her large skull mask is the most notable, as she seldom, if ever, takes it off. She also is eccentric and tends to have odd personality quirks, being socially awkward and blunt.

RELATIONSHIPS: She has mainly kept to herself with her “Mother”, Gudrun Gloomhorn, who was later slain by a band of Mordok. She is all on her own when she is found.

RUMORS: Many rumors, but mainly speculation of where she came from and what she looks like under her mask. Some joke that she wasn’t born at all but came straight out of the ground or sprouted from a dead log like a mushroom.

BIO / BACKGROUND HISTORY: As a child, Yrsa and her mother were banished from their clan when Yrsa was barely toddling. Her mother, Gudrun, could be attributed for Yrsa’s lack of socialization or even her lack of knowledge for her race or her clan. She was given a very sheltered life where they relied solely on the land and on simple farming out of prying eyes. Gudrun would occasionally leave Yrsa on her own, but generally speaking, Gudrun was a very invasive character who did not allow Yrsa to wander far.

As a child, Yrsa began to learn magic under her mother’s helpful hands, but she was not allowed to stray. It had to be practical and it had to help Gudrun in some particular way. Her childhood drifted more into the form of servanthood than childhood, stealing her precious early years from her. As she hit her teenage years, she and Gudrun finally settled between the forest and mountains near the Great Wolf Hackles. The home was practically underground amongst the roots deep in the forests. It could easily be mistaken for an old boulder or a clump of moss. This gave them a feeling of safety as they learned to stay quiet most nights and burn only when everything was clear.

Yrsa began to question things as she approached adulthood when she spied a traveling caravan moving through the pass and noted the families and how tight-knit they were. She found the behavior to be incredibly strange and inquired about it with her mother, who scorned her and told her to never approach people again. However, it left Yrsa pondering for many years to come about people and she would eventually make it a habit of sneaking out while her mother slept to spy on sleeping camps and caravans to watch in curiosity. Due to her ability to blend in with her surroundings, she was never caught. Until one fateful day where she spied a troop of Mordok and watched on with great intrigue. Her foot then slipped and revealed her hiding place, and she retreated back into the forest. The Mordok scrambled up the mountains to follow her. She pulled out every trick in the book for hiding, but she could not seem to throw off their pursuit. It ended poorly when she retreated into her home and roused Gudrun, warning her of the oncoming danger. Gudrun felt skeptical, but crept out to spy.

Unfortunately, this was Gudrun’s demise, as she was snatched up and brutally eliminated in front of Yrsa, who cowered in hiding. The Mordok then pillaged the house, wrenching Yrsa up from her hiding place and attacking her without mercy. After a harsh scramble, she managed to escape with a few lucky spells. However, she did have a few scars to prove it including one that was rumored to sprawl across her face.

Yrsa, broken and feeling divided, fled through the mountain pass completely alone and using her survival instincts. She traveled this way for many moons until she found herself in what she believed to be a safe haven. She carefully scoped out the area and waited for any traffic throughout the coming fortnight. Thankfully, the only thing to come ambling through the area were small game and birds. She proceeded to build another home quite similar to her’s and Gudrun’s that was very well hidden and allowed her to stay comfortable through all of the seasons. However, as the year progressed, she began to feel lonely. She began to talk to herself under her breath, and even made a scarecrow that she nicknamed “Mother” that she set up in the corner made of hay and rope.

As she stretched out her cave-like home, she happened upon many mushrooms, one of them was rumored to have attached to her and slowly chipped away at her sanity.

Just as she felt herself slipping into the realm of insanity, she was interrupted from her ramblings by a shroud of voices. The voices pulled her curiosity and she watched as her beloved “safe haven” was now being rudely interrupted by caravans that decided to make camp there. She contemplated scaring them, attacking them, stealing from them, but she remained silent in the shadows and watched on with curiosity, fear, anger, but then vast interest. A few of them sparked her interest and she began to copy their mannerisms in the shadows. She listened as a few bards sang around the campfire and felt unusually lulled. What was this peculiar sound?

When the caravan left in the morning, she felt herself thirsty for more. She decided to pack her most precious belongings and follow north in search of more people where she would observe from a distance. This would eventually lead her into the Guardians of the Wall.

—

She comes upon them when she once again hears the skillful sounds of an instrument ringing out from their camp. As she observes the group throughout the days, she is out of earshot and decides she must take it upon herself to nickname the members. She hurriedly rushed under her breath, “Remember what Mother Gudrun would say. She said ‘if you name them, you’ll get attached!'” But she decides to go against Gudrun’s judgement and gave affectionate nicknames for every single member. However, she may have gotten carried away when she created stories and conversations for each of them, even recreating hay dolls and communicating back and forth with them as though they were speaking back to her.

She watched over them for months, creating her own strange reality of what she believed the group was enduring, who was in a relationship with who, and carefully caring for her hay dolls. Finally, as she listened on from the shadows one night to the sound of the bards, she realized the group was melancholy. She realized that one of the members of their group, “Bubbles”, had suddenly disappeared and watched as they all lamented. She pondered where Bubbles may have gone and believed that Bubbles was jealous of a love triangle she had fabricated in her mind. As she observed the camp settling down for the night, the bard set down his lute and she found herself creeping from the shadows to take it. Once it was safely in her grasp, she slipped back into the darkness and what she believed was out of earshot. She began to pluck away at it, grumble to herself, and then pulled out the doll of the bard that she had named “Plucky”. She threw Plucky a disgruntled stare and said, “How do you make the sing-sing sound on this thing!?” The sound of her plucking roused the sleeping group, who sheepishly looked about for the missing lute. A few sent out to investigate and managed to sneak up on Yrsa, who was in the middle of plucking. When they called out a fearful, “hello?”, Yrsa froze and slowly turned her masked face toward them in horror.

She called out their nicknames, dropped the lute upon the ground, and scrambled away without much words. The group felt confused, but intrigued, as they returned feeling various emotions from concerned, threatened, to intrigued. Who was this terrifying stranger? And why did she call them such strange names?

From the shadows, Yrsa did not give up, but she did keep a good distance for some time. She realized that her new “friends” were on the lookout for her as well as for Bubbles, and she did not want to be found. At least, not yet. However, yet again, when the bards began to play, it lured her from her hiding place. This time the group sat upright at the campfire as the haggard figure with a skull mask came out of the forest. Some stood defensively, some sat there waiting for her to speak, and finally, she shrewdly growled, “Plucky stopped playing. Why did Plucky stop playing?” She then sat herself atop of a log and waited patiently. The group still sat in stunned silence, unsure of what to do with this new stranger.

Over the next few days, she did not seem to leave and did not meet direct conversations or questions very well. Anything asking what was her name, where she was from, or what her race could be was met with very simple replies. They managed to discover her name was Yrsa, that she would not take off her mask, and that she was very strange in her interactions. They could not pinpoint her race, nor did they quite understand where her nicknames for them came from, but they began to welcome her as a strange new member of their group regardless. However, she would disappear to supposedly rest before returning to the group once more. It would seem that the one thing that got her to speak was the sound of music. It would seem a great deal of trust would be needed to gain closeness with her, and the Guardians of the Wall seemed all too eager.

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Dragon King Artemis

Power Lost

During the events of the new island. Artemis had an unfortunate time. He had a nightmare, one that would haunt him for a long time.

After getting to the island, Artemis had just finished learning a few new tricks. He came to the island with his first blessed weapon just to show off that he had learned new tricks. He prayed to his new God, Irunaki for assistance. However, over the course of the day. His power faded. This new island was inhabited by the undead. Artemis was surprised at that fact. Prepared for Mordok and even Salt Beasts but Undead? Thankfully, his training allowed him to combat them. Yet even the weapons he blessed, and protection offered. It had waned. He only learned why during the first night.

After bed Artemis had a strange nightmare. One that is haunting. There were visions of a possible future, death, torment. Visions from his old god. Artemis was crowned as king but of undead. It was a blur. In short, the old world still had a hold on him. Artemis awoke with a stir.

“A strange dream, one of the future? A possible future? Me a king?” He pondered this thought for a moment. “Me as a king would be lovely, the sheer power. I can only speculate its what my father would desire. King of the Hobos no less. Though Hobos don’t grant any real power and their loyalty is lacking.” He ponders this thought and continues. “Yet in my dream I am to be an Undead king or some sort of necromancer. My family, my friends at my side…. corpses.” He shudders at this thought. “Not something id like to see. Khruki must still have a powerful hold on me. However, if this is true.” He has a realization and begins to pace, “If this is true and Khruki is tied to the Undead then it is possible that the Io’Larian Syndar are responsible…Oh no. They could be responsible for the Undead plague back on Faedrun. Did my sister know of this? Doubtful, as her communication with the gods is through her totem of the bear. My father however, did he know? Did he know his God administered these grave acts? Is the reason he wanted Rialvis dead was to silence him? More questions than answers.”

He then begins his day with a start for something new. “This would explain why my power waned.” He then turns to his group “We may need to bolster a more militant focus”

The Atonement

After returning home battered and bruised, Artemis was on a mission. He needed to find his divine power again. He needed to make a direct pact with Irunaki, or he needed a totem to do so in his stead. “Is blind worship not enough? It works with Arnath. Gods can be so fickle. No matter.” Upon returning home, the denizens of Fort Dread Wyrm greeted him. Artemis had much more wine returning home than usual, so the common folk enjoyed what was left. He also surveys the work that is on the road and the starting of the guard house. Artemis went to his bedchambers to lick his wounds. He rested for many days, yet he was glad his new family was there and went out in force. During this rest, his divine power returned to him. “This just further proves the ties between Khruki and the Undead. I’ve got to inform my family.”

Normally in Io’Larian culture, one must go out and find your totem amongst the first beast you successfully kill while alone or find remnants of, yet for Artemis this in not the case. To get his namesake, Azureal had went out while young and found a small talon, one of an eagle. Naxala, had gone out and came back with a broken tooth of a bear. He did not have that upbringing and was far too late for him to go hunt or find one at his age. But during the dreams of Artemis one word stuck out. Wyrm. One that occupies the name of his current settlement and one that means dragons. Fantastical creatures of legend and lore. Yet it is a word that sticks out.

During sleep and meditation, Artemis walked in his meditative garden. As usual, it was lush and green. A small pound sits in the middle for reflection. Overall, quite relaxing. Overtime, this garden changed. Slowly it became a place remnant of his current living arrangement. His garden, no longer lush, became bare, covered in rocks and hills. Still the same pond in the center. The air becomes cold. At the corner of his eye, he spots movement. Artemis begins to give a calm, collective chase. The being is small and darts within the trees of Artemis’s Mind Garden. Artemis follows this thing for what feels like hours. Only to come upon a strange rock. A rock with only a word carved. In a language of old. “Draco” Artemis looks at the word, then feels a crawling. “Oh hello, you!” On his shoulder a was a small lizard. Scales are much like a Dragon. A tiny Armadillo Lizard to be precise. Its color was very yellow, almost a gold color and its underbelly black. It was munching on a small tick that was on his shoulder. Artemis sat upon the rock and meditated. “This is what I was looking for, thank you young Draco. Speak to Irunaki on my behalf. I require his aid. Also, thank him for his services.”

Artemis then awakes from his dreamlike state only to find his chambers has a small cold spell. He then hears a knock on his door. “Come in, I was only meditating” At his door was a well dressed Syndar, followed by Maretheris and Orla inquisiting her. “Ma’am you can’t just barge in there at least tell me your…oh Artemis your awake this woman…” Artemis holds up his hand to Orla. “Its ok Orla, this woman is my older sister, Naxala. Naxala Wolfgang.” “Artemis, my dear brother, I must speak with you in private, it’s of matters of grave importance.” Naxala in a hurry. “It’s fine sis, I think I know why you’re here. I also make it a point to share everything with my family.” Artemis ushers Naxala to the main seating in his home.

“Little brother, it was I pain to find you, I thought you were up north by the lake and then I heard of this new organization, FATE? I assume your doing?”

“Yes, my doing as well with the help of Orla, Maretheris, and Johan. You are welcome to stay over we are just settling in.”

“Anyway brother, my coming is due to the god Khuruki, I had a strange dream, one of undeath and the dead? I wanted to warn you and apologize. I had no idea.”

“Its ok sis, you were following a tradition, completely understandable.” “I may be able to teach you a few things of my own. Irunaki? You know of him? His tenants are a little less…. extreme” Artemis then looks at the corner of his eye. “One moment, there is a movement” He heads over and sees a small lizard curled up “that cute Draco is real” He bends over, picks up the small lizard. “Look guys!” He then shows the gold scaled lizard. “Anyway sis, stay awhile we have much to discuss!”

Naxala stares a moment at her brother and smiles. She whispers “You are everything like father. Not a doubt in my mind you would be able to clear our family name.”

“Dragon King Artemis”