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Lore Cache Contents – October 269

The following contents were unlocked by the efforts of our players over the course of three Virtual Events from August – October of 2020. The contents were spread publicly through further player effort and resources. Branthur Nightriver, Clanleader of Clan Nightriver has taken on the task of making sure these documents were copied and spread through the continent so that all may be aware of what they say:

The first document was written on a large piece of paper that was wrapped around the rest of the contents:
“Those brutes of the stone teeth are at it again. This is the fifth moon in a row that they have spilled over our lands, stealing our crops and slaughtering our animals for meat and not just the livestock, the dogs, the cats, whatever they can catch they’ll eat. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised to learn that they eat the ulven they capture, but I’ve never heard the tale of one able to escape their grasp once captured so I don’t know for sure. Either way I can’t help but feel like it’s important in some way to record and collect whatever knowledge I can on these monsters who dare to call themselves ulven alongside us. The visitors from the west have brought with them methods that they call scribing that I employ here in recording the events and recountings of the stone tooth raids. This scribing shows great potential for keeping untarnished recordings over vast spans of time. The first step is to know your enemy and there are plenty in the lands that call these stone teeth marauders their enemies.
– Haldjor, Learner and Skald”

“I have spoken with a learner from a pack to the east. It seems that the stone tooth’s raids have penetrated into their lands as well. Evidence points to these raids being not only for food and potentially thralls, but also as a show of strength and maybe even simple sport. It is a long journey to travel down from their homelands in the north and they seem to show great delight in penetrating deep into hostile lands before making themselves known and raiding unsuspecting villages. This learner told me that a scout from their village followed the stone teeth raiding party after their raid in an attempt to see what became of the thralls that had been taken. Several days later the head of the scout was found in the center of their village, hanging by it’s hair from the branches of their central tree.
-Haldjor, Learner and Skald”

“I saw one up close today. I’ve never been one for a fight and hadn’t seen these monsters closer than at least two bow lengths before. I’ve heard they carry bows much heavier than our own and may Cyklusens damn me if I was going to get close enough for them to get a hold of me. But with my new drive to record what I can about them I felt the need to get a closer look. I’d been tracking a warband through our neighbor’s lands, being sure to keep plenty of distance so they wouldn’t catch my scent. I assume they can do that. They are far closer to beasts than Ulven either way. Eventually they came upon a village in the river lands and I quickly scrambled up a beech tree to hide myself behind its thick leaves. I ended up with a perfect vantage point to watch the raid unfold before me. It was brutality that’s all I can truly say, it was complete brutality. In the end at least a dozen of the village’s warriors were cut down and a handful of other villagers tied up and led out of the village. Three of the stone teeth fell in the battle and the rest made a great ritual out of spitting on their bodies as they left the village. I stayed in the tree and counted my fingers two hundred times after the raid to be sure they had left and when I felt safe I slipped out of the tree and went to observe the bodies. When I got close I saw that they were indeed ulven, at least in physical form, but their bodies showed signs of hard battles and even harder living. The skin of the body was covered head to toe in callouses and scars, many of which were in locations unlikely to take damage in battle. All three bodies had this incredible number of scars leading me to believe they were carved into their bodies in some sort of a ritual. Two of the bodies were also covered in angular tattoos and thick war paint. Their eyes were a blood-red the likes of which I can’t say I’d seen before. Their fangs were stout and the tattooed two of them had filed them down to a spearpoint, no doubt cut on stone, no doubt that this is where they get their name. They all carried spears and axes that had been honed to the sharpness of a fillet knife and I can say that they are well versed in how to use them. After a good deal of time spent with the bodies I had had my fill.

I helped the village burn their dead. I helped them dig deep pits for the stone tooth bodies.
– Haldjor, Learner and Skald”


There are several more pages that detail first and second-hand accounts of Stonetooth raids throughout the areas that would now be Ironmound, Shattered Spear, Whiteoak, Axhound, and Northern Nightriver and Grimward. All speak of incredible brutality set alongside incredible battle acumen. A final note reads:

“I have made copies of these scribings and given them to the pack leaders in my area and this original copy I store away here should it ever be needed in the future. My hopes are that the chieftains understand the danger that the stone teeth present to all of us and begin to train more warriors to repel future raids. I myself have picked up the spear and as I have repeatedly dipped quill into ink, I will see that my spear gives the same treatment to the stone tooth marauders that attack my pack’s lands.
Haldjor, Skald, Learner, Warrior”

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October 2020 – Ironmound Reconstruction

After a second month of considerable focus and support for the villagers and people of Clan Ironmound, the recovery efforts continue at an impressive rate. Work crews finish their tasks ahead of schedule, with less injuries and fatigue and better management and use of supplies and food. For all intents and purposes, the recovery effort is a resounding success. Clan Ironmound leadership has actually put out a call for an organized break this month, both to celebrate the success of the recovery efforts but also to plan on what to do next. The most pressing and dire issues were tackled head on, with vigor, and by both locals and traveling outsiders. Several feasts and social events are being planned to celebrate and allow travelers a chance to socialize or take some needed downtime.

The bandits in the area were dealt a crippling blow to their operational abilities. An aggressive armed patrol last month was able to track down the main bandit camp and a short but vicious fight took place. With a number of bandits dead and the rest of them driven off, it would be difficult for the bandits to coordinate anything substantial in the new few months. While the main bandit camp was attacked, another group apparently decided it was a opportune moment to hit Clan Ironmound villages on the border and to raid The Pass. Luckily, defenders were left back to continue patrols and a second intense fight took place. These bandits were also driven back or defeated.

Clan Ironmound leadership, at first apprehensive on the subject, have made the decision to allow teams to be gathered and to be taken to help them study the uncovered Lorespeaker cache. The few voices that approached them on this subject over the last few months, and their decision’s to heed their feedback, were wise in doing so. There is now a great opportunity for those seeking knowledge. Based on previous encounters surrounding uncovered Lorespeaker caches, the statement that Clan Ironmound is ready to accept help in opening the cache has very likely made it to the ears of those that would like to see the contents remain buried. The extent of what could be uncovered is unknown but now the door is open for those willing to help.

___

In the end the researchers and scholars are able to open the cache and uncover a series of writings by an ancient ulven, written in an early version of an Ulven script. All in attendance take possession of copies of the writings and some set out to work out a way of spreading the information far and wide.

Meanwhile a small force of Lorespeaker agents attacked the defenders in the areas surrounding the village, making it very clear that the information contained in the cache was something they’d much rather see returned to the dirt instead of spread amongst the populace. Luckily they did not arrive in adequate numbers to overwhelm the defenders and after a series of hit-and-run attacks they vanished into the forests.

UPDATE: Further efforts by players and resources have seen to the public spread of the documents found in the cache. Branthur Nightriver, Clanleader of Clan Nightriver has seen to the distribution of copies of the lore found in the cache. http://lasthope.kitsufox.com/wiki/lore-cache-contents-november-269/

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September 2020 – Ironmound Reconstruction

Last month, a considerable effort was put forth by traveling adventurers and organizations alike as people from all corners of Mardrun showed up and immediately went to work helping the people of Clan Ironmound. They either started their own efforts or joined in on some of the smaller groups that had arrived several months ago and already began assisting the Clan. Labor pools were coordinated, teams deployed to different areas to work, armed patrols kept bandits in check, healers tended to sick or injured, and mess halls and social spaces created to tend to food, water, and rest. Although no coin was promised and it was clear that contracts were not available to travelers coming in, a considerable amount of people showed up to help and a handful of them even donated their own coin to the cause. Clan Ironmound Chieftains and leaders were impressed; their bristled nature softening as progress continued through the month.

There is still a lot of work to be done; rubble takes time to clear, dead Ulven bodies recovered need funeral rites and pyres, and the bandits are notorious for being stubborn and hard to truly dispatch. Talk around the work camps has been high in morale all month but a common question continues to spring up; will this effort continue in earnest or will it fade out? Rumors begin to spread as well. Some craftsmen and travelers seem to be negotiating payment for their services or being sought after by Chieftains with wealth and a goal to see their areas focused on or cleaned up first. Warriors talk about scouts finding possible bandit camps that could be attacked and their forces defeated decisively. Diplomats loosen their tongues about Clan Ironmound’s stance regarding the Lorespeake Cache and whether they are willing to allow access to it or not. While morale and good intentions still remain key to all of this progress, some personal agendas or the allure of coin begin to darken the edges of the humanitarian efforts of the collective group.

One thing is for certain; Clan Ironmound is keenly watching what the travelers and helpers are doing and focusing on. Now more than ever, the bigger picture of the relief efforts is being weighed by those in leadership positions to see if the efforts are left wanting.

___

The villages on the eastern portions of Clan Ironmound continue to show incredible signs of altruistic aid and camaraderie. All across the region people of all walks of life, whether Ulven or Colonist keep at the task at hand of seeing the proud people of Ironmound returned to their homes and work.

Wagons bearing the heraldry of The United Collective and the Order of Arnath’s Light continue to make ventures into the area bringing supplies and workers and last month a couple large work crews from Clan Nightriver journeyed into the area and immediately set about on the reconstruction efforts. By and large the turn out is immense and though there were some whispers of people discussing ways that they could walk out of this scenario with some fresh coin in pocket, there has been no evidence that this has happened anywhere. Through-and-through those that are here seem to be here due to the goodness of their own hearts or out of a pragmatic understanding of Ulven politics.

Through the month the nights are again filled with drink, song, and stories. Rumors float through the villages of the combat going on in the pass and the areas further to the east. Not a lot makes it back that can be considered proper news, but rumors tell of great bloodshed though on which side no one really knows.

By the end of the month reports come back that bandits had attacked the support and defending forces with a substantial force, though the fighting was brutal the defenders were able to hold the bandits at bay. Those who had gone on the offensive return with news that they did not meet with the expected level of bandit forces on their outing and they were able to clear the areas effectively. Neither group reported any sightings of any type of leadership among the bandits.

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October 269

With many across the lands are busy with harvests and enjoying the festivities provided by their quaint towns, the rumors fly and tales are shared at alarming rates.

 

More tales of an individual float from Davin’s Hold this month, and the theme is of courtly romance. It seems Lady Al-Azarma has been humoring the advances of the traveling minstrel that has been visiting her last month, and the visits have been noted to be frequent. One tale tells of the handsome individual visiting around eight different times in a single week, another tells of Lady Al-Azarma summoning the individual to her side for lunch, dinner, or even her time reading in the library. As for how true these rumors are, none can say, but it seems that courtly love is in the air. 

 

Stories drift down from the mountains, the stories are of a pack of branded Ulven that come down from the Great Wolf Hackles this time of year. It is said they prowled in the later nights of the month, stealing food, clothes, tools, and young adult Ulven. Many families awake to empty beds, claiming the branded packs from the mountains stole them in the night. While some Ulven wet nurses and parents may use this tale to keep their cubs in line. Those from Clan Shattered Spear take these tales to heart. Some even report of missing children throughout the month that disappeared during the night. 

 

In colonies to the south a logging competition takes place in the town of Silver’s Crossing. Many come from all over to watch many powerful lumberjacks, wood crafters, and merchants in the small yet ever growing town. What was of particular note was the tree climbing contest, where a young Syndar was able to out climb the seasoned veteran Ulven. While some claimed that the young Syndar cheated by “pushing” themself up the tree rather than climb it, it was never proved and deemed the young Syndar winner with a purse of fifteen silver. 

 

Tales of harvest festivals happening all over the continent fall on the ears of all. Tales of drinking contests in Balie Onair, pumpkin boat races in Crow’s Landing, scarecrow building in Key’s Crossing, scripture recitales in Starkhaven, fall fashion shows on the Phoenix Isle, fishing derbies in Stormjarl, archery tournaments in Onsallas, Fristad held a merry time in its taverns, and Lumalia had a lantern ceremony. However, some of the grandest harvest festivals were held outside of the gates of Newhope, skilled bards and swordsmen plied their trade for shows of comedy, foods of all sorts, and dancing for all. Needless to say, this month was a joyous one for all of Mardrun. 

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September 269 – News and Rumors

The lands are ripe with the fruits of summer labors: Corn, beans, apples, and so many more are ready for the taking. The land erupts into motion in order to capture not only the food and other supplies, but at opportunity as well.

 

In the City State of Newhope, the sound of battle clang aloud in the fighting pits as warriors participated in a great tournament for fame, glory, lovers, and a fat purse overflowing with silver. Many warriors entered the arena, but few grabbed the attention of the crowds except for a notorious female Syndar named Veylena who fought with shortsword and axe. She quickly became the crowd’s favorite to upset the current sitting champion, Thennvik the Mad, a beast of a man that used two maces. The final battle was intense, with many spectators on the edge of their seats, but their faith in the newcomer was rewarded with Veylena standing above the broken and thoroughly beaten body of Thennvik. Many are curious of her origins, more so about what she will do with the exorbitant amount of silver she just earned.

 

In other gossip, it seems Lady Ala’zarma was seen being courted by a dashing young noble. Rumor has it that the dashing individual was seen handing a rose while reciting a sonnet to the Baroness in her gardens. While many didn’t see the spectacle, the gardener who did claim the noble to be almost half the Baroness’ age, and may have a slight reputation for drinking on the job.

 

Harvests are going beyond expectations across the land, many farmers are experiencing a large bumper crop of corn, potatoes, onions, and apples. Leading to many small festivals to thank Gaia and other deities for the extremely bountiful harvests throughout the land of Mardrun. With this bumper crop, many merchants are reporting a good economic uptick just in time before the pre-winter rush begins. One thing is for sure, winter will be easier on the folks of Mardrun this year.

 

In the lands of Clan Ironmound, many are beginning to breathe a sigh of relief as repairs and recovery of the lands affected by the earthquake this previous spring show signs of near completion. While there is still a little left to do before the harsh winter around the hackles sets in, the clan is more than confident it can finish what is left easily enough without the help from outside the clan. There have been many that have helped the clan in its time of distress and the distrust of colonists seems to have been lessened some by the actions of those who have aided them. As for the fate of the Lorespeaker Cache, that is a tale for another time.

 

Darker rumors start to flow from the Riverhead Lands, rumors of a dark alliance. Many are aware of the large amount of bandits in the area, but what isn’t as commonly known is who is keeping these thugs organized. These self named ‘Bandit Lords’ seemed to have had a meeting this past month. Nobody knows for certain what was spoken of or what deals occurred, but what is known is that the raids on other bandit groups seems to have died down considerably and are now working in a more organized manner.

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August 269

With the heat waves rolling and receding throughout the month, most of Mardrun finds ways to cool off and relax before the busy months of harvest that are coming up quickly. However, some of the world has other plans in the works…

 

 

Clan Ironmound continues to rebuild after the devastation, and with the help from outside forces the process has expedited some. The prideful and usually prickly members of the Clan are starting to warm up to those who have come to help with the reconstruction, often ending the night drinking with the volunteers. While there is still extensive amounts of labor and work ahead, many within Clan Ironmound are starting to feel some hope after many months of desperation. 

 

 

In a Grimward outpost along The Shield of Mardrun a horrible accident befell a workman in the process of patching a section of an outpost wall that had been damaged by recent high winds. One of the legs of his scaffold gave way and he fell nearly 15 feet before landing on a jagged piece of his broken platform. The worker was quickly carried to a nearby surgeon, but by the time he arrived the wounds proved to be too great and he passed away. Not willing to accept this outcome the surgeon quickly set to work on the newly deceased body and through what can only be thought of as a miracle of medicine, she was able to bring him back from the otherworld..and bring him back from the otherworld she apparently did. The Ulven shot to his feet with a wild look in his eye, screaming at the top of his lungs. Slowly he came back to reality and told everyone around him what he’d seen. His words have spread far and wide.

“There I was, falling from a scaffold. Next thing I know I’m on my back and my vision is fading out and my lungs are filling with blood. I close my eyes. Then suddenly I feel totally fine. I open my eyes and I’m standing in a forest and off in the distance I see the hulking shadow of The Great Wolf as it stalks its way toward me. Naturally I freeze in place. Then I hear a voice, low and rumbling like a growl barely escaping the throat of the great beast, ‘I do not know you yet you intrude on my forest?’ the beast called to me, ‘Without a name, you are nothing to me. Nothing but a morsel.’ Then the Great Wolf turned and began bounding toward me, his maw open. I tell you the likes of it I have never seen. When he opened his mouth, by Gaia’s grace his mouth so large it could swallow ten warriors without thinking, I saw the stars inside. I saw the very cosmos itself, but at the center of it all, I saw something that scared me more than any of the rest of the experience. I saw nothingness; a void of pure emotionless, nothingness. I screamed…and then I was here.”

 

The laborer spread his story across the outpost to any who would listen to it and when he ran out of people to tell he packed his things, threw on a cloak and started walking south to continue to spread his word. “When he sees me next he’ll know my name!” he shouted back into the outpost as he left, “Hjalvar the Great Wolf’s Priest!”

 

 

In the City State of Newhope people enjoyed their time relaxing in the late summer days, children playing in the fields and streams, parents enjoying a bit of peace. In the manner of a single night, this peace was turned into chaos as the mass murderer struck again. A family of five were the targets it seems, their bodies all found in the barn, hanging by their legs upside down. The sight of the scene soon spread like wildfire, along with the words carved in each of the victims. “Did you miss me Newhope?”

 

 

Bandit activity in the Riverhead lands reaches an all time high this month. Caravan’s are now refusing to go any further north without significant martial support. While some packs from Clan Nightriver and Whiteoak do offer aid in this, more often than not are met with overwhelming amounts of bandits rushing the caravans. Many are pleading for higher up authority figures to do something about the situation, but many are conflicted on the proper way to handle this situation. 

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August 2020 – Ironmound Reconstruction

The devastation in the eastern reaches of Clan Ironmound is more than most had expected. Sure rumors and tales of the destruction had spread across the continent, but words alone cannot truly carry the impact that one feels when seeing the damage first hand. By the time most members of this aid mission arrived in the area, Ironmound had already devoted several months of concerted effort toward clean up and yet there are still many villages that are populated more with fallen homes and collapsed mines than anything resembling a concerted rebuilding effort. This sight helps bring the breadth of the destruction into focus, even after many months of effort, Ironmound alone hasn’t been able to see to many of their own villages. The initial damage must have been beyond catastrophic.

 

Aside from the rubble and damage there are a handful of other sights that stand out to those arriving in the area. Alongside the Ironmound workers there appear to be other helping hands already elbow and shoulder deep in the reconstruction effort. A small group of colonists working under the banner of Silvers Crossing sing songs heralding from the Fire Isle home of The Phoenix while they toil, seemingly keeping their fellow labourers in good spirits. Alongside them toils an equal sized group of Ulven bearing the marks and heraldry of Pack Bloodmoon of Clan Nightriver. Both of these groups are dwarfed by the blazing red feathers of The Broken Blade Company who immediately stand out as having already spent a great deal of time and effort among the people of Ironmound. Several carts of supplies line the work areas bearing the insignia of the Broken Blade. It becomes abundantly clear that they have been here for months already and have donated much to the cause already.

 

As the first days of the month fall away more and more people spill into the area. At first the Ulven of Clan Ironmound are a bit bristly, but as the number of helpers and labourers continues to rise they soften up and welcome the newcomers with open arms before quickly directing them to areas that they could be most helpful. By mid-month the area is swarming with seemingly altruistic groups individuals and groups. Some new banners can be seen in the area emblazoned with the letters UCUM as well as some banners bearing the iconography of The Order of Arnath’s Light. All-in-all together everyone makes an impressive force.


The month toils on. Days are filled with sweat and back-breaking labor and nights are filled with song and drink. Occasionally stories drift into the villages of bandits clashing with patrols in the nearby wilds, but none of these assaults seem to be of too much note. Some of these reports tell of a bandit leader named Killy and with this comes word that she is the same bandit who’d committed infanticide during a tense hostage situation a few years back. Apparently she’s again managed to skulk away with life and limb. By the end of the month people from all parts of Mardrun find themselves surrounded by friends, new and old, tempered in the heat of labor and quenched in the soothing embrace of joy-filled nights around the fire.

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Lyr Burnt-Hollow – [Renowned]

Character: Lyr Burnt-Hollow

Played By: Kelly Guthrie

Race: Ulven

Content Warning: Assault

 

 

 

Lyr watched quietly, hidden behind the curtain as her mother struggled to hold off the Mordok that entered the caravan. She listened to the clashing of swords and dying wails outside. Another Mordok entered in through the door behind Mother. Her attention was still held by the Mordok before her, she did not expect it when the dagger was plunged down into the back of her neck. Mother became very still, her arms dropped from a defensive position, down to her sides; she released her weapon dropping it to the floor. She fell to her knees with a thud. Mother looked over at Lyr with no emotion and let out a gurgled cough, blood spattering the curtain. The Mordok who had stabbed her pulled his dagger from her neck, blood now flowing generously from the wound and she collapsed fully onto the floor. Lyr began to cry. Mother was dead.

Lyr reached past the curtain and tried to touch the hand of the Mordok as he was now looting her mother’s body. Not missing a beat he grabbed Lyr’s wrist and pulled her towards him. HARD. There was a “Clang,” and he suddenly felt resistance to his pull. The Mordok still holding onto her arm brushed the curtain aside to reveal a small, refuse covered Ulvin child with her face pressed against the small cage at the back of the caravan. With tears streaming down her face Lyr looked up to meet his eyes, and in almost a whisper she said “Thank you.”

Lyr had cuts and bruises all over her, along with being covered in what one could only assume was her own filth. Even while in pain from being held firmly against the bars of the cage, Lyr smiled. Whether it was death by this Mordok’s blade or being left here to starve to death. Lyr was free. Free of her cruel mother. There would be no more beatings, lashes or constant degrading. No more riddles, mind games and punishments. “Thank you.” she said again. He dropped her hand and turned towards the other Mordok still standing there.

A weight had lifted from Lyr. It felt good watching mother die, seeing the light fade from her eyes. Knowing mother would never have the satisfaction of killing Lyr herself. Mother would often monologue to Lyr about all the different awful ways she could kill her. Lyr was not afraid of death, in fact she had wished for it for so long.

Suddenly Lyr burst into laughter. “It’s Over.” she sobbed. Malnourished and exhausted from all the excitement Lyr blacked out to the sight of the Mordok reaching for the cage and the sound of the cage door opening.

Lyr woke up later, night had come and she could hear the Mordok and the crackling of a fire not far behind her. She was alive. But why? She wondered as she slowly opened her eyes and turned her head to see at least 14 Mordok around a blazing fire, they were cooking some kind of meat. They didn’t seem to notice Lyr moving or watching. She did not understand them so she didn’t care to listen. Her stomach growled, that food smelled so good. She scanned the area for any food that was unattended that she could grab and take off with. She saw a pile of bones not 5 feet from her, it was doable. She jumped up and bolted for them scooped up as much as she could in one swoop and turned to flee into the woods. A few of the Mordok stood up but a particularly large one yelled as if barking an order. And they sat back down and watched as Lyr stumbled into the surrounding woods with arms full of bones, tiny bits of meat still clinging on. What a feast! she thought as she ran. She heard the large Mordok yell something after her, but she didn’t understand so she didn’t bother turning to face him.

Lyr ran into the woods, and when she realized she was not being followed, sat down under a large Oak Tree, and watched as fire flies illuminated the tree from beneath. This was the most beautiful thing Lyr had ever seen. “I’m glad I lived to see this. It’s like Magic. A Glowing Oak.”

The next morning Lyr looked over the bones she had gnawed at all night and in the light of day realized what they were, but now after everything she had been through; she didn’t even care. Her belly was full and they tasted good.

Lyr followed the Mordok who freed her from her mother (most likely unintentionally) since that previous night, skulking around and watching them hunt and kill. She made sure to never get too close, but she watched and learned quite a lot from them. They always seemed to know when she was close, and some of them would taunt her by hanging food just out of reach as if it was some sort of game. When she would come too close they would start shooting the ground around her feet to chase her off. However, the larger Mordok always seemed to bark something at those who played with her and they would sulk off as if they were scolded, leaving the Large one to chase her off repeatedly. Other than that, they all acted as if Lyr didn’t exist as long as she stayed her distance. She was fine with that though, Lyr liked watching them.
After about a week though Lyr became desperate for anything to eat. She waited until after dark and they all seemed to be asleep. Lyr stealthily slithered into their camp up to the campfire. She reached out to take a small chunk of meat so as to not be too noticeable, but one of the Mordok found her, took up a bone with some meat on it, and began the game with her once again. It only lasted about five minutes before the large Mordok thundered in, throwing the smaller one in a fit of rage to the ground. It then turned its bloodshot eyes upon Lyr and began to draw a bow with arrows. It didn’t take long for Lyr to recognize this Mordok was not wanting to play, but was going to kill her if she didn’t run. She dug her bare feet into the dirt and ran into the woods, darting between the trees.
“Choďte týmto spôsobom! Nevracajte sa! Nebudete znova ušetrení! Beh!” were the words roared behind her. She looked back to only see an arrow landing in the tree directly next to her. “BEH!” the large Mordok boomed. With that Lyr left to come upon a small town, if you could call it that. But there were people and FOOD.

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July 269

The land begins to swelter and shimmer in the heat of the summer sun, but life on the lands of Mardrun continues on, even if a little begrudgingly.

 

To the south in the colony of Daven’s Hold, The Council of Three begin on a personal project to breathe some culture and refinement into their home by building many political buildings and public spaces. Many are excited for this direction The Council of Three have taken, and are more than happy to see more than the cobble stones and shop fronts that seem to be in every corner of the settlement. But some wonder aloud if their desire to go this way is due to the ever growing divide between Governess Catherine and Grand Duke Baron Richards.

 

In the Citystate of Newhope, the land is filled with the sounds of battle, roars of rage, cries of pain, and cheers. Duke Martingale of Westhaven’s Colosseum has finally completed and is open to the masses for only a few silver. Many peddle their wares of food and “good luck charms”, and as such find jobs within and around the colosseum. Hundreds of people, Colonists and Ulven alike, flood the stands to watch warriors fight one another either in one-on-one battles, group fights, or against powerful bears. Here is where even some of the prisoners who are to be executed are given a chance to earn their freedom, though seldom do. 

 

To the north, on a small hillock on the borders of Clan Whiteoak and Clan Axehound, a large crowd has gathered for a monumental occasion. A signing of a treaty between the two ever feuding clans, which both agreed upon. While some are wondering why it took so long for these two clans to finally come to this agreement, most understand that some tensions between the clans and their long seated rivalry have made it hard to break the distrust between them. Due to these issues many long meetings between the Clanleaders were needed, and many of them became heated. However, after a few shouting matches, four or five brawls, and almost drawn steel, the two Clanleaders came to an eventual agreement on the terms of the armistice and the rules. Many who have read the treaty were shocked to discover no loopholes and no way to manipulate the treaty to one side’s advantage, believing both made sure neither of them, or their successor’s, could weasel their way out of this honor binding treaty. When both pens signed the treaty, along with the seals of both Clanleaders, many cheered, however even more had doubts on what to expect from their neighbors actions here on out.

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Kasim-Kara

CHARACTER NAME:  Kasim-Kara
PLAYED BY: Jake Segor
RACE: Half Syndar (human traits) age 52
OCCUPATION: Drifter/Bard
CLASS: Cleric

He stands upon the mound of dirt he dug up, looking down at the figure resembling a corpse below him. The hardest part was laying out all of the pieces in the hole, he found the act of making the grave almost cathartic. Tilting his head up he looks upon the grey sky hoping that it would rain, it would feel right if it did but maybe it’s more poetic that it hasn’t. Inhaling, he picks the shovel back up and throws the first scoop of dirt over it’s chest. While he shovels he takes time to give a silent obituary, recounting what brought him here upon this hill.

Long as his memory serves, he lived among the monastery. He never knew his parents, all he had been told was that his mother was a syndar and his father was not. They left him with his name and that was all. Growing up in Saresh as an orphan wouldn’t have made for a promising start to life, looking back on it he wonders how his life would have differed if he wasn’t brought in by the monastery. It was a warm place. He was brought up among the teachings of Mahsai and only knew how to believe, no matter what it was in.

The monastery offered a place for him to grow spiritually, with some help he quickly became adept at channeling divine energies. He could feel the warmth of the gods flow through him and took a great passion in growing as a conduit for their magic. His learning was not limited just to that though, as he grew he learned a great many things stretching from the basics of commerce to mending wounds. He learned to play music and appreciate art. Of all the things he learned, one thing he found particularly satisfying was sword play. The heft of a large sword in his hands felt like a calling. His talents shown and he began to dream of a day where he could learn the sacred ways of the paladin. All of his life he had known of the threat of the undead holding siege to his lands. He had seen clerics and warriors of the Ma’kar Dominion and Vandergon travel through Saresh on their way to fight, and heard of how many would not return. He would make his goal to put an end to the rising dead with his own hands.

When he came into young adulthood he found his way to the battlefield. He had not yet risen highly in rank but he held confident in his skill not only with a sword but with divine powers as well. His unit was a young group, many of them were individuals of other monasteries, some that he even called peers. The confidence that they had held then, he now recognizes was arrogance. They pushed their way against lines of undead, dropping many of them effortlessly with divine righteousness. As they were ready to call their first folly a success a second undead unit came over a hill, lead by one wielding a sword made of curved and blackened bone. They stood their ground, not ready for what was actually in store. His memories of what happened next are foggy, maybe a way of preserving his own sanity. However he can clearly remember regaining consciousness after a violent loss. Surveying the field and seeing a second May’kar unit that pushed the enemy away, but not soon enough. The majority of his unit was lost, most of the survivors had lost limbs or suffered other substantial damage. His body was gravely wounded and would take the next year to fully heal up.

The fire in his soul was not put out from that fight, if anything his will to fight was emboldened. His abilities to channel divine energy however, was weakened. It grew harder for him to call upon the gods in true earnestness. He would claim that it was due to his injuries, even believing it himself on some level, but deep down he felt resentment for his loss at that battle.

Years go by and he rejoins the battlefield, smarter and hardened. He grows to despise the undead and penitent more with each battle and lets that drive push him through to the next day. The more experience that he gains on the field trains his discipline and he learns the ways of tactics and command. Each day begins to feel like the last, pushing undead back and being pushed back upon. Then the Bishop king rose.

He was away on the front lines for some time while it happened. Word spread out about the Bishop King and he wanted nothing to do with a land full of undead. A group of like minded soldiers in his platoon made the decision to join Vandergon’s lines, it was a hard choice but he followed them. He took only what he needed, his sword and armor.

For years he continues to fight, now against what was once his own people. The first year of this endeavor was emotionally the hardest. Torn between the sadness of fighting his own, the anger that they would turn in such a way, and at the same time feeling that he was wrong to fight them. Now and again he would feel a tang of guilt, he would catch himself thinking that there had to be a good reason the May’kar would do this. He was quick to quell these thoughts, reminding himself they were his enemy. By the end of the year he numbs himself of these thoughts and just fights.

As Vandergon pushed into Saresh, he was there. Cutting down anyone he was put in front of, throwing their bodies to the side to be burned. The dry air of the desert can carry a smell quite far when there’s nothing to interfere with it, it only made the funeral pyres that much more unforgettable. He did not see the end of the campaign against the Dominion though. Two weeks into the push he took a spear to the shoulder. Later he would be told that he was lucky to still have an arm after taking such a strike. He travels south for medical attention, this was the last time he would leave the city he thought he loved.

Word travels that boats that have gone out found a new land, a land free of undead. A call is sent out for able bodies to guard caravans heading to boats off of Faedrun. Even in his injured state, he still attempts to be strong enough to guard and finds himself boarding a ship when they arrive. The seas are anything but calm but compared to the day to day horrors of a battlefield, he would have rather take the boat.

When they dock in the budding colony of New Hope he has nothing. He hears that they are looking for strong hands to fight new monsters of this land, and he wants nothing to do with them. He finds a hill near a pond, removed enough from this colony, where he builds a small camp under a willow tree. He spends the following months in solitude living off of what he can find and sorting through the remnants of thoughts he held on Faedrun. His will to fight had been extinguished, the strength he once held had left his body, and the last of his faith had been snuffed out.

He eventually attempts to rejoin society. Unable to commit himself to a trade, he travels and plays music. He had paid enough attention in his youth to know how to play most stringed instruments, but never thought it would be a lifestyle in his future. He drifts from place to place for years, living off of tips and scraps, until the settlement of Serai was founded. He rejoined his people but he never truly felt at home. If anything, the only benefit there was that people were more willing to feed one of their own without asking for much more in return. When Bos Mezar was revealed to have been handling undead, he knew Serai was no longer a safe place and returned to a life of drifting.

He still traveled with his sword and armor, its weight serving as some type of reminder of his past. As he packs it up to leave Serai, he decides that it’s no longer a weight he can carry and makes for the camp he had made when he first arrived on Mardrun. It was makeshift camp to begin with, so he was not surprised to see that after years it was not recognizable. Time and weather had worn down most of it, save for the willow tree that stood over the pond. He decided it was time to bury the life he clung to. He dug down next to that tree and laid out a grave for the armor and sword that he once donned.

The dirt is easy to pack down. He levels off the pile, ensuring that there’s no visible mound of a grave. A bead of sweat falling down his face stings as it gets in his eye and he wipes it clear. For some time he just stands and stares at his work, almost waiting for it to do something. He throws the shovel into the pond and turns to leave, looking back one final time at where he buried the boy who dreamed of being a paladin to save the world. He needs a drink.