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September 266 – News and Rumors

Numbers within Clan Shattered Spear territory have swelled as the bulk of Riverhead’s remaining refugees have fled there, putting a large strain on their supplies. These ulven are driven, however, eager to strike back against the Mordok that drove them from their homes, and Shattered Spear’s front lines towards the swamp have been thoroughly reinforced by fresh troops. The migration was bittersweet, however: during their retreat, Warleader Brynjar Riverhead was injured and pulled from the fighting. Noticing the morale of his warriors waning, Clanleader Hakon Riverhead took up his spear and shield and joined the fray himself. Though he fought bravely and bought time for his clan to escape, Hakon was struck down in the battle, his body unable to be recovered. Homeless and now leaderless, the clan is looking to High Priestess Lyrri Riverhead and the recovering Warleader Brynjar to take the reins of the clan until a new Clanleader can be decided.

Stirrings in Clan Ironmound seem to hint at a decision to be made soon, and the tone of these whispers implies that it could change the face of Mardrun altogether. Though their leadership has remained tight-lipped about the situation, they have stated they will make their announcement in the coming month, and will expect a response from each clan.

Mordok continue to press even as they are driven out of the Great Wolf’s Hackles, focusing instead on Clans Shattered Spear, Whiteoak, and Squallborn. While Shattered Spear and Whiteoak have the numbers and resources available to defend themselves, Squallborn is facing an uphill battle. With the bulk of their good farmlands taken by Aylin’s Reach and the Stormborn settlements to their south, hungry Squallborn warriors have taken to raiding these territories when they are not fighting against the Mordok. The slowly swelling population of Aylin’s Reach has been able to focus on their own defenses, building sturdier walls and manning more patrols, though it seems the Stormjarl priorities are elsewhere for now.

Clan Watchwolf has issued an official proclamation, one which many understood was coming, though few expected so soon: Clan Watchwolf would be no more. The Watchwolves of Luna to the west, impressed by their treatment at the hands of Clan Grimward, has opted to officially join the clan. Feeling that they have failed in their sacred charge by allowing the humans and Syndar to remain on Mardrun uncontested, they have chosen to rename themselves as Pack Fairtongue, in honor of the diplomats they produced early in the war and the countless lives saved by their efforts. Across the continent, the Watchwolves of Sol have joined Clan Nightriver, keeping their ancestral name. They have spoken at length that they do not believe the colonists are the danger they have been watching for, and seek to continue their charge. However, without their western kin to aid them, they sought the resources and numbers of Clan Nightriver for their own protection.

As the weather begins to cool, movement is seen across the continent, though it is not the Mordok, nor warpacks on their way to do battle against the beasts. This massive march is headed towards the center of the continent within the Great Wolf’s Hackles, and is made by units flying the colors of many smaller groups and factions from across Mardrun. Their common destination quickly becomes clear as their intentions are spouted to those who will listen: they claim to march on the Spire to bring the wanted man Vazra to justice. Many major players across the continent are sitting back and watching the events play out, reluctant to throw their lot and resources in with one side or another for a variety of reasons. Though many details are yet unclear, one thing is known; this show of force will change the course of Mardrun, one way or another.

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August 266 – News and Rumors

Much to the ire of Clan Nightriver, Haygreth Grimward has once again pressed his luck by moving a substantial number of warriors into the Great Wolf’s Hackles, defying the treaty he had signed two winters prior. Grimward warriors were met with grudging tolerance by colonists and their supporters, with tensions kept subdued seemingly only due to the mutual enemy the groups shared in the Mordok. The combined efforts were able to strike a number of decisive blows against the creatures, however, forcing Branthur to acknowledge the role Grimward played in retaking the mountains.

Rumors have begun to spread of progress on the cure for the creeping corruption, though little has been confirmed at this point. A whisper here, a guess there is all it has taken to spread like wildfire in hushed tones. Those largely unaffected by the corruption have expressed their relief that such suffering will surely be brought to an end soon enough. The reaction among the corrupted and their families, however, is a little more divisive. While many are eager to be cleansed and are optimistic for the news, others grumble about the lack of transparency among the powers working to develop the cure. They want answers, and they want them yesterday.

Refugees from Clan Riverhead continue to search for new homes while their lands remain in the hands of the Mordok. Some have taken to Grimward and Shattered Spear, eager to strike back against the invaders. Others have settled in Nightriver or Stormjarl lands, hoping to blend in and regain some semblance of a normal life. Still others have taken up hammers and plows with Clans Ironmound and Goldenfield: they may not be warriors, but they can still provide the tools of war needed to win.

Clan Goldenfield has made clear their intention to work tirelessly to harvest food for the coming months. Between the movement of displaced refugees, constant battles against the Mordok, and fear of a cold winter, they hope to stand ready to provide for the needs of Mardrun. They are requesting assistance in the form of military or economic units to protect and distribute the harvests. They are also willing to pay laborers who agree to work their fields in the effort of yielding the greatest harvest recent history has seen.

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LARP Weapons

LARP Weapons and You

As the world of Last Hope is a dangerous one, most players should expect to carry a weapon with them. While you are under no obligation to fight when you are at a game (and oftentimes, the best option is to simply flee from combat if you’re outmatched), it’s always helpful to have something to defend yourself with. There are a staggering number of weapons available, however, so the choices can sometimes be a bit staggering – there are a LOT of companies and styles out there. This is intended as a resource for players looking to purchase their first weapon or someone considering expanding their armoury.

Things to keep in mind

First off, remember that we are a low-fantasy game. This means that weapons are meant to be a little more utilitarian, and you should avoid weapons which are overly decorated or fantasy-oriented. Another thing that you should remember is that you should try to have a weapon that fits with your character – if a weapon seems rather incongruous or out-of-place in the hands of a character, you may be asked to explain where you got it – this allows for a bit of leeway in terms of gear, but prevents things like Ulven warriors carrying jewel-covered scimitars or Vandregonian nobility with stone clubs.

A few other points to keep in mind with your weapons:

  • If a weapon requires Herald training or approval before use, you must have gone through the training in order to use it. Just because you have purchased a weapon does not mean that the staff is obligated to allow you to use it – there are specific safety concerns with some of these weapons, and failing to adhere to the safety guidelines or training will likely result in a Herald asking you to put the weapon away.
  • Take the time to maintain your weapons! Don’t just leave them in your car – Calimacil weapons, while practically indestructible, tend to harden a bit if left in extreme temperatures, and latex degrades. After an event, wipe down your weapons, check them for defects, and (if they are made of latex) utilize silicon spray to maintain the latex.
  • Expect to go through weapon checks at every event you attend. Just because a weapon has passed before doesn’t mean that it will always pass – entropy is the master of us all, including LARP weapons. There will be a clearly-marked area for weapon checks, and if a weapon fails, the Herald doing a weapon check will explain why. If you take the time to maintain your weapons, then it is much more likely that they will continue to pass in every game.
  • Homemade weapons are generally inspected somewhat more stringently. We are working on guidelines for making your own weapons, but be aware that it takes quite a bit of time and effort to make a weapon that matches the quality (both in appearance and safety) of commercially-available weapons; this is not intended as a slight against anyone’s foamsmithing skills.
  • If you have questions about the appropriateness of a weapon, talk with a Herald. We like seeing new equipment and ideas, and (if it’s needed) we can post a few examples of passing/failing weapons from the various manufacturers.

Choosing a weapon for your character

Think about what you can comfortably wield, how it fits in with your overall costume design, and what you’re willing to spend when looking at weapons. Rather than limiting each class to only using certain weapons, Last Hope tries to encourage players to wield what they think their character would use – while certain skills to utilize weapons (such as two-handed weapons, utilizing two weapons, or using bows) cost more experience for certain classes, it would make no sense to say that a mage can’t use a two-handed sword because “Mages don’t use them”. Instead, think about how your character got their training – are they self-taught? Did they study under a swordmaster? Did they learn in the military? Or did you pick it up in-character over the course of the game?

Here are some general suggestions for players – feel free to ask “why” we’ve made these recommendations in terms of the various races and weapons.

  • The Ulven tend to use simpler weapons, and prefer axes, spears, and straight swords. If a weapon has adornment, it is not the focus of the weapon – the Ulven see their weapons as useful tools for survival, not objects to have art lavished on them. If a weapon has decoration on it, then it most likely has a story – take the time to think about it!
  • Syndar tend towards staves, bows, and more ‘graceful’ weapons, such as curved swords. Decoration and embellishment is relatively common, although Feral Syndar tend to follow the Ulven pattern a little more closely. Expect a well-made weapon to have a long story, usually with connection to some named smith.
  • Humans have the widest variety of weapons, ranging the gamut from utilitarian to nearly priceless blades covered in delicate filigree. Most of the kingdoms have their own guidelines, but with the prevalence of trade, you can expect to find quite a few interesting examples.

Companies and Manufacturers

There are a staggering array of companies. Here is some basic information for people looking to sort out the various brands.

Calimacil

A Canadian company, these weapons are fairly unique in that, rather than using latex-skinned foam, they use a proprietary foam mixture that has no latex in it. Quite a few players in Last Hope use these weapons – they are incredibly durable, made in a variety of styles, and tend to have a slightly more realistic weight than some of the other blades on the market.

Unfortunately, they are also quite expensive. Their basic swords tend to start at around 80$, and they can easily reach over 200$ in price for a single weapon. Additionally, they tend to have quite a bit more “bite” than other LARP weapons, especially their two-handed weapons and blunt weapons. Generally, you will need to be careful of control when using a Calimacil sword.

There are a few weapons with specific concerns or special rules.

  • Currently, we are still reviewing the suitability of their line of stab-safe rapiers. The main concerns is the size of the tip – they are smaller than an eye socket, and so we are waiting to make the decision until we have thoroughly reviewed it and seen what training is required for safe thrusting. They are still legal weapons (although Asmoth is a little bit too high-fantasy: covering or painting may be required) if used for only cutting – if you are caught thrusting without Herald approval, you will not be allowed to use that weapon in the future.
  • Their Martial Arts line utilizes much denser foam, and so are unsuitable.
  • If you are planning on using any of their pole weapons (Telescoping Spear or Halberd), talk with a Herald.

Forgotten Dreams

A German manufacturer, these are rather high-quality latex weapons. Some of their line tends towards the fantastic – ask a Herald if you have any questions. We’ve had no problems with them thus far, although some of the axe heads tend to be a little bit stiff at first.

They also manufacture a wide variety of shields – as above, make sure that the design you’ve chosen fits in with your character concept and the low-fantasy feel of the world. In general, the Medieval and Mercenary collections are your best bet in terms of design, the Gaelic and Ancient collections are fairly acceptable (although their spears are not thrust-approved), and the Chaos and Elven collections tend to be somewhat variable – the Bone swords, for example, are not acceptable for player characters.

Iron Fortress

A Danish company, they produce two lines that are appropriate for Last Hope: Epic Armoury and Ready For Battle. Both of them are perfectly acceptable – there are a few weapons which are a little bit too high fantasy, but otherwise, they are excellent weapons. In general, most of the gear from their Dark Moon line is not appropriate, although there are some modern/sci-fi games in the area that they would be excellent for.

If you are looking to get started, the Ready for Battle line is a good starter weapon – they’re a little cheaper than other latex weapons, they work just fine, and there are a number of good designs available. Otherwise, they make a wide variety of good weapons – regular maintenance is recommended. At the moment, there’s an axe floating around that’s been used in semi-regular practice for two years that is just showing some minor signs of wear, so they’re quite durable.

Action Props

An English company that does a mix of commercial designs and custom work, their gear ranges in the solid middle to high-end of latex weaponry. There are a few US distributors of their weapons, but their selection is somewhat limited.

If you’re not looking to get custom work done, then most of what they have available is simple straight swords. Most of their medieval/Renaissance-looking weapons are just fine. The latex seems to be a little bit harder than that of Iron Fortress or Forgotten Dreams, and their longer weapons have a little bit more whip than some people are used to, but they are also extremely well-balanced and make some gorgeous-looking swords. At the moment, no one in Last Hope has any experience with their custom work.

Eagle Flex

An excellent starter brand – while Eagle Flex is one of the cheapest “entry level” brands, they are also relatively good quality – their swords hold up well, handle decently, and come in a variety of styles. They make a few axes and daggers, as well as shields, all of which hold up rather well.

Ateliers Nemesis

A Canadian company that specializes in high-end latex weaponry. While they maintain some stock, most of the appeal lays in the customization available on their weapons – when ordering, you can select from a good number of options to customize a pre-existing design. The detail and handling of these weapons is fantastic, although they are rather pricey for latex weapons, easily exceeding the price of most Calimacil gear for the larger weapons.

If you are ordering a custom weapon, expect a wait time of about a month for delivery. As another note, they do not offer many items over 44″ in length, most likely due to construction techniques, so don’t expect to find a cleaving sword from them. They have a few weapons which are a bit high-fantasy, but the overall line is fantastic.

Skian Mhor

Mostly a custom shop based in the UK, they do some fantastic-looking work. At the moment, they do not have an overly-large selection of pre-made weapons, and the shipping costs to the United States can be pricey, but their work is quite beautiful, and they show a willingness to make a wide variety of weapons (Check out the LARP-safe Ship’s Wheel!)

At the moment, no one in Last Hope has any experience with these weapons. It is likely that they will pass, as they are in use at Empire, but until someone buys one for us to check, we can’t really comment on that.

So how do I choose?

When looking at a LARP weapon, there are three things to consider:

  1. How much am I willing to spend?
  2. What is the overall look that I’m going for?
  3. How do I want the weapon to handle?

As a general rule, higher-quality/more elaborate weapons will cost more money – a dagger is less expensive than a polearm, unless you really manage to get some odd custom work done. Simple weapons are often best when you’re just starting out – a lot of people in Last Hope got their start with the basic Eagle Flex Norman Sword, and you still see quite a few of them.

The handling is a major area to consider, however – different brands handle differently. In general, latex is quite a bit lighter than Calimacil’s blend – the Calimacil blades handle a little bit more ‘realistically’, but they’re also slightly slower to respond than the latex weapons. This is a double-edged sword, as they are better for making stable parries, but move a little more slowly when you’re attacking.

So why can’t I just make my own weapon/use a boffer?

Theoretically? You can make your own weapons – they’re just much harder to pass, take a lot more time to get them looking good enough to pass the visual inspection, and it can end up being even more expensive than some of the custom companies if you’re not really sure what you’re doing at first. We’re beginning to experiment with the creation of some latex gear, but that is currently in its infancy.

As for the boffer question, it’s a matter of appearances. We’re looking to make a really immersive game for everyone involved, and the latex weapons just tend to look better. While it’s entirely possible to make boffers that pass the visual inspection (I would recommend looking up Wynar’s Fine Beating Implements for an example of that), it’s not very common, and we would like to avoid the immersion-breaks of the typical duct-tape boffer.

What about ranged weapons?

Arrows are something that go through a stringent safety check before use, so they’re a little more regulated. At the moment, there are three main companies that make LARP-safe arrows or arrowheads.

Live Action Products

A domestic retailer located in Sheboygan, WI, they make modular arrowheads in a variety of colours. The foam is waterproof enough that covers are not required, although they are recommended, because the foam on the arrowheads can get pretty badly chewed-up by foliage, protrusions, and other sharp things if you’re not careful.

As with all modular arrowheads, it is required that you either lock the head to the shaft using an adhesive or artificially reduce the width of the slot by using duct tape – this is to ensure that the head does not accidentally unscrew in flight.

IDV Manufacturing

A German company, they make two types of arrowheads – low-velocity open-cell arrows, and their standard, rounded head. At the moment, the low-velocity heads are the only ones approved for standard bows. The rounded heads are approved for use in IDV’s home-manufactured crossbows, all of which currently pass in Last Hope. Be warned, however – their crossbows tend to have some variability in performance, so you may need to check with a Herald before using one in a game.

Hammerkunst

Another German company that manufactures crossbows, arrowheads, and other archery equipment. We have no experience with their equipment, although we have heard complaints from some German LARPers that Hammerkunst foam is slightly more rigid than IDV’s. We have no basis to test this, but should anyone ever bring arrows manufactured by this company to an event, expect significant testing before approval.

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Solar

Solar, the Sun God.
Patron of Life and Passion, Solar is the sun-god of the Syndar and one of their highest deities, along with his wife, Lunara. Depicted as a tall man wreathed in fire, he is considered to be responsible for bringing the spark of life to Faedrun. Celestine Syndar claim to be the distant descendants of Solar and Lunara.

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Freya Rev Anda

Played by: Sarah Larson
Name: Freya Rev Anda
Gender: Female
Age: 22
Race: Ulven
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Brown/orange
Occupation: Warrior -Combat archer/Sword & board
Known Skills: First Aid
Birthplace: Cliffs of the Eastern sea
Notable Traits: Wary of any and all magic. Loves nature. Thinks all Syndar smell funny. Very curious and fierce when need be.
Relationships:
Kragen Bloodmoon- Feels a strong bond with Kragen, as a mentor, fighter, and friend.
Pack Graytide- Ill at ease around pack graytide. Recently fought an honor duel with a member over the death of his brother due to her falling asleep on watch.
Character History
Freya was born in a large village on the cliffs of the EasternSea, into the Sjóúlfur pack. Despite the large size, her Ulven pack was very close knit. Every member of the village was considered family, and supported each other through life’s troubles. They were devoted to worshipping Sjóúlfur, under The Great Wolf, and their clan was named for it. The men and women were treated equally, and all of them were combat worthy in some aspect or another. Each member of her pack was gifted with a Guardian Spirit by Sjóúlfur at birth. This Spirit was believed to shape their character, and protect them throughout their lives. Freya was gifted with the Guardian Spirit of the Fox, and was thus named Freya Rev Anda.

True to a fox’s nature, Freya was always getting into trouble. She was very sly and mischievous, always going where she was told not to and getting into things she should not. While her father was a great warrior, Freya was not built for melee or hand to hand combat; though she was dexterous enough to hold her own or escape if necessary. Her mother taught her to arch in hopes of sidetracking her from causing trouble in the village. She was a natural at it, and practiced every day to please her father, who she looked up to.

Life was quite peaceful in her village. Since it was built into a cliff overhanging the ocean, it was difficult to raid and the Mordok left them alone, for the most part. Freya was an adept swimmer, and her archery skills improved greatly every day [though she often got into trouble for wasting arrows on sea birds]. Eventually, her father started taking her on hunting missions. This was generally a large excursion, where many of the Ulven men and women would travel miles away, into dense forests to track and kill wildlife to later dry and store for the long winters. Mordok became a problem during these excursions. As she grew older, the Mordok became more and more prominent, and grew bolder. Several times they managed to kill some of her pack, and she watched them pass on to the spirit realm. She learned to hate them with a passion, and rightly so.

One night, Freya was perched on a tree stump near the campsite on watch. The fire was low, and most of the hunters had fallen asleep. She was exhausted from the days work, and trying very hard not to doze off. As she sat there nodding off, a Mordok snuck up behind her and grabbed her by the neck, clasping its filthy hand over her mouth. It started dragging her back, but only managed to get a few feet before Freya clamped her sharp teeth around one of it’s fingers and bit it clean off. Screaming with rage, the Mordok threw her to the ground, where she managed to roll back and start crawling back towards the campfire. Gasping for breath, her windpipe nearly crushed, she tried to make it back to camp to warn the others –but the Mordok’s scream had done it for her.

It grabbed her by the ankle and dragged her backwards. She watched as it raised its wicked blade, glinting in the moonlight, and was ready to accept her death. As long as the others made it, that’s all she cared for. Thankfully, one of her pack members ran towards the scream and got there just in time to save her. He slaughtered the Mordok and dragged her back to the safety of the pack.

It was a large Mordok raiding party that was passing through for unknown reasons. The Mordok are filled with hatred and kill without cause. They were eventually dispatched, but many Sjóúlfur were lost. Freya lost her father in that fight. His body was completely surrounded by slain Mordok. The number varies from story to story, but many say he killed around 30 of them before he was overrun. His body was a mangled mess. Some say his spirit still wanders that area in the form of a bear, protecting wanderers from the Mordok, and that the Mordok now fear that place.
Freya was overcome with grief with the loss of her father, and blamed it on herself for her lack of vigilance on watch. Though her pack tried to reassure her that she had woken up the entire hunting party through her valor, she knew the truth. If she had stayed awake, nobody would have died; or at least that is what she told herself. From that point forward she was restless with village life. Her father’s death had changed her.

She packed a small bag of essentials and her bow, and left the village. She was determined to prove to herself that she was strong, and could hold her own. She has spent the last few years roaming Mardrun and killing Mordok. She keeps a string of Mordok teeth with her, one for each Mordok she kills. She has matured greatly while living on her own. Freya is very observant of others, and slow to trust humans and Syndar. She is more at ease with Ulven, but still wary. She is also quite feral, and distrusts magic users, as magic is unnatural to her. At times her mischievous nature shows when she is in a settlement or colony. Most of the time she prefers to stay alone, but her curiosity often overcomes her in town situations, where people are interacting. She tries very hard to maintain a hard outer shell, but the truth is she misses her pack, and having companions, and that shows with her interactions with others. The only thing that is steady with her is her hatred for the Mordok and willingness to work with anyone to kill them.

Character notes:
-Freya speaks in a low, raspy voice since her windpipe was nearly crushed by the Mordok
-Freya is Illiterate. She can not write or read.
-She hates nothing more than the Mordok. She is wary of Syndar and magic users.
-Rev means Fox, and Anda means spirit in Old Norse language.

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Azra Steelfang

Played by: Shelly Sonsalla
Name: Azra Steelfang
Gender: female
Age: 19
Race: Ulven
Hair: dark blonde
Eyes: blue
Relationships: Dria Northwind– traveling companion

Bio:

Ulven are warriors from the day they are born. They fight coming into this world, and they most definitely fight going out. That is, if the Great Wolf wills it. And my only wish is to join the Wolf—after taking out as many as I can of the Mordok who inhabit our lands.

I was born in the spring of 18 years past. My parents, Crewger and Rasaleane Steelfang, and my brother Sathenus, welcomed me into this world, vowing to make me the greatest female warrior in our small but very fighting-oriented village. I did not disappoint them. As soon as I could walk, I began to train, first by just going on long hikes with my brother in the mountainous terrain surrounding our home. Then, once my coordination improved, I began to fight. In the beginning, I was only allowed a small, wooden dagger that I could spar with. And although my father and brother were very patient with me, I did occasionally end up with minor injuries from our sparring sessions. These bruises, scrapes, and the occasional broken finger were treated by my mother, who was so skilled in medicinal herbs and procedures that most of the village turned to her for help with their ailments. Mother always got annoyed at me though, for no sooner would she get me bandaged up and I would be back at it, fighting with all my might against my older and far more skilled opponents.

Over the years, I graduated from my wooden sparring sword to a cheap steel sword. This sword wasn’t the best of quality, but being such, it helped me be able to overcome any barriers I may face in my battles. It wasn’t long before my father and brother had to use their full skill to keep me from defeating them in our mock battles. It was around this time that I earned the weapons I carry today—a silver shield with a golden dagger etched onto its surface and my mother’s sword.
The shield was made for me by my brother, who spent countless hours forging it in secrecy so that it would be ready to give to me on the day that I became the strongest female warrior in the village. That day happened to be only a week after my 15th birthday. It was a tradition in my village that any child must challenge the town’s strongest fighters as soon as he or she reaches 15 years. This was used to evaluate the child’s fighting prowess and to try and find who the strongest fighters are.

My first fight was against a boy I grew up with. He was but 5 years older than me. As I readied myself for battle with him, my hands shook with anticipation as they gripped my unbalanced sword and small, buckler style shield. I knew I had it in me to beat him, the only question was if I could focus or not. I took a few calming breaths to steady my nerves and stepped up to him. We saluted each other, grim faced, stood ready. He was dual wielding, so I held my shield at the ready, prepared to block an attack from any direction. He struck, rattling my shield with his left hand sword while striking with the right. I blocked the sword and used the momentum it gave me to swing for his arm. He twisted out of the way just in time so my slice fell short. At this point, adrenaline was pumping through both our bodies, sharpening our vision as well as our reflexes. I could see every minute change in his body’s position before he attacked. And he could read me just as well. It became a game of trying to fake the other out, trying to get them to lower their guard. And he won. I had been watching him closely, intent on every movement, when I was blinded. He had used the edge of his sword to reflect the sunlight into my eyes. My temporary confusion created an opening for him; he sliced with both swords. I was able to block the first with my shield, but the second sliced open the skin on my leg. I hissed with pain. He had gotten first blood. That meant that I had to land two hits on him before he touched me again. Otherwise, it was all over. I lunged forward with an overhead strike, changing my direction of attack at the last moment with a flick of my wrist. The feint worked and he blocked with both weapons, leaving himself open for my blade to flick in and slice the front of his shirt. A thin trail of blood made his way down his chest as he glared at me between long black bangs. The pressure was on now—whoever landed the next hit would be victorious. My next attack was parried by one of his swords, and while he had my sword trapped out of the way, he struck. My only option to escape the attack was to react in a way he would never expect. So instead of blocking and dodging back, I pushed his sword away with my shield before dropping my still entrapped sword and quickly reaching into my sword belt for the small dagger I always kept hidden there. One quick swish of my wrist opened a shallow cut on his cheek. We stood there for a few seconds, unable to believe the battle was really over, before stepping away and saluting each other. Only then did I hear my family screaming their praise for me. Only then did I realize that I had actually won.

The next few hours were a frenzy of activity, of fighting, blocking, dodging, and lunging. I couldn’t even begin to tell how long I was fighting–all I knew is that Ihad been fighting for a long time….and it was beginning to take a toll on me. I felt my attacks becoming sloppier, my blocks coming up slower and slower, until it got to the point that they barely managed to block the oncoming sword.

Finally, I turned to meet my enemy and found none other than my brother, his 6 foot, heavily armored frame seeming to take up all of the space. I took a deep breath before letting it out in a snarl—a snarl he eagerly returned. Then, just like that, it was on, and the adrenaline coursing through my veins gave me a new-found energy.. Unafraid, Sath charged toward me, slashing viciously. I dodged nimbly back, avoiding every one of his slices. But he gave me no time to counter, lunging forward to bash me in the face with his shield. My head snapped back, my ears ringing in my head. Before I could recover, his blade slashed out once more and sliced open my upper armor. I hissed with pain before launching a fury of attacks, using my light weight and slender build to my advantage. And finally, finally, I landed a hit on his leg, opening a cut barely big enough to bleed. But it did, so we were tied. Before that thought could even fully enter my head, he feinted high before smashing me with his shield and full weight, knocking me back and off balance for a millisecond. It’s the only time he needed to slice open my calf. I hissed, knowing that that cut will scar, adding to the dozens of small scars I already owned. I bowed before he pulled me into a hug and half-carried me over to where our parents were waiting.
As I neared them, I was surprised when Sath picked up a small shield—silver, with a golden dagger inlaid in it—as his shield already works so well. My confusion was soon answered when he held it out to me. “good fighting, sister.” He told me before turning to Rasaleane, who I saw was holding her sword before her. I took it and looked at her questioningly. She nodded and smiled, so I stepped back and swung it a few times. The balance was amazing. I quickly dropped my old sword and shield, sheathed my sword, and slung my new shield on my back.

After that, life went mostly back to normal, except that Sathenus left a few weeks later without a word and that now I was allowed on the front lines if there were any mordok attacks or if we wanted to go scouting for mordok. Once I even led a scouting party that found a mordok camp. We decimated them and brought their heads back to camp for all to see.

And so continued daily life until 3 weeks ago, when word reached our village of the missing caravan and Daven’s Reach. Seizing this opportunity to explore Mardrun, I went straight to my father and requested his permission as clan leader to leave. He granted it without a second thought and I headed off the very next day, without my mother and father giving me blessings of fortune and their word that they would let my brother know where I went.

My journey was mostly uneventful, besides acquiring a companion at one of the taverns I stopped in on my way. I had walked into the tavern in the dead of night, and much to my surprise, there was a Mordok hunting party just leaving. Realizing that I would have plenty of opportunities to kill Mordok when I wasn’t hungry and tired from travel, I let them go on their own. Instead I stepped up to the bar and ordered some mead, soup, and bread with venison. I glanced around the tavern and chose the table in the farthest, darkest corner. I sat with my back against the wall, watching the crowd warily. The majority of the tavern’s patrons were men—extremely intoxicated men. But sitting at another table, quietly drinking her mead was an ulven who appeared to be not much older than i. The next time she glanced up, I nodded to her, then waved her over. She looked hesitant for a moment before coming to sit across from me.
“my name is Azra Steelfang,” I told her.
“Dria Northwind of the Beothunk Clan,” she replied, before telling me her story. Her village had been destroyed by the Mordok, so she was searching for a new hope. She believed that Daven’s Reach was the place where she could find that hope, so I invited her to travel there with me. She accepted, and so after a partial night of sleep, we left early the next morning to continue our journey.

And now I’m about to arrive at Daven’s reach. The party lead by Kragen Bloodmoon had already left for the outpost, but there were rumors of a Mordok camp nearby. So Dria and I decided to meet up with the party of adventurers now residing at Daven’s Reach. Who knows what monsters we’ll encounter after we arrive….

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Lygari

Played by: Tim Cochrane
Name: Lygari
Gender: Male
Age: Unknown – claims anywhere between 54 and 88
Race: Ulven
Hair: Gray–White
Eye: Green
Occupation: Ulven Lore-Speaker
Known Skills: Lore
Birthplace: Unknown – accent points to Southern Mardrun
Appearance: An obviously old Ulven, stooped with age. Normally wears a bright blue cloak and typical, if somewhat drab, clothing.
Notable Traits: Missing his right eye, walks with a noticeable limp, right arm is permanently affixed to a sling, elaborate facial tattoos, white beard and mustache, tends to think for a moment before speaking.
Bio:
Ask Lygari about his past, and you’ll hear a different story each time. This old Ulven has been wandering Madrun for the majority of his life, collecting the stories and songs of his people and preserving the names of great heroes. He considers it his duty to act as chronicler to the Ulven people, preserving the stories of the great heroes of his people, almost to the point of fanaticism beyond that of a normal Lore-Speaker.

The only consistent story told by Lygari comes at the end of each night a village or pack hosts him, when all the other stories are exhausted. Pointing to the eye patch which covers his right eye, he tells the story of his first patrol around his childhood village at the age of 17 . . . or 14 . . . or 22. Though the name of the village and its location may change every time, the story advances along the same lines. The patrol members spotted a lone Mordok, poorly-concealed in what was clearly meant to be an ambush. Quietly laughing at the creature’s ineptitude, Lygari ran straight towards it, eager for his first opportunity to prove himself.

The tripwire caught him around the ankle, and the thrown knife caught him in the eye. He lost consciousness immediately, and the Mordok fled, melting away in the forest faster than the other patrol members could follow. His companions carried him back to the village and called for a healer, who managed to remove the knife but noticed a sickly substance on the blade – poison. They had no means to heal the poison, and the nearest Daughter of Gaia was three days’ travel away; he languished in unconsciousness while she was fetched.

On the seventh day, just as the Daughter arrived, he awoke. At this point, the story diverges once again. Sometimes, he claims that he was told by the Daughter of Gaia that he had been given a greater purpose in his life, to sing the deeds of others. Other times, he claims to have met the Great Wolf, who told him that the only way his name would be remembered would be if he sung the tales of a thousand brave heroes of the Ulven people. If every story he has told is to believed, in that week of unconsciousness, he met every single Ulven legend and was charged by them to collect these stories.

Seeing this as a sign, he immediately sought out a senior Lore-Speaker, in order to apprentice himself. It was three (or four, or eight, or nine, depending on how much he’s had to drink and when he’s telling the story) years before he was finally accepted into the Brotherhood of the Lore-Speakers, forever giving up his name. He chose the Old Ulven “Lygari” for a name, partially out of mischief at his own efforts to blur his own past and partially for his tendency to change stories in the telling. As he himself says, “The art of telling a story is exaggeration.”

While he is clearly somewhat odd amongst the Lore-Speakers, he has proven to know the history of these people as well as any other Ulven historian, and can recite the ‘correct’ versions of stories if pressed. Despite this, he finds the presence of the Colonists irksome; they have little respect for the older storytelling traditions of the Ulven outside of a few scattered scholars, they challenge the integrity and continuity of Ulven culture, and separate his people from the spirit of the Great Wolf, bringing them to empty causes. At best, he’s a somewhat gruff, distrustful storyteller to non-Ulven. At worst, he chooses stories that make the colonists look foolish, adding vain Syndar and impractical humans to any story he feels can hold it.

The symbol of this problem is the civil war with the Graytide. This is something he is certain that they learned from the colonists. However, he is torn between the stances of the warring factions; the Graytide’s position of expelling the colonists appeals to his distrust of this new culture, but the Longfangs have always steered themselves well, and at what cost must they be expelled?

Still, he is getting old. It’s been a great number of years since he gave up his name, and he can feel the jaws of the Great Wolf growing closer. One of his arms is forever bound in a sling, and he walks with enough of a limp to need protection. Despite the Lore-Speaker’s pledge to always move on when a story is known, he thinks he’s found the story that will find him his eventual death. The time has come for him to train an apprentice, as well, so that the lore of the Ulven people continues unbroken.

It’s hard to tell what’s truth and what’s a lie, especially when it comes from an Ulven whose willingly called himself a liar. On the other hand, many villages are willing to overlook this in favor of his knowledge of the great heroes and legends of old. If a hero needs to be remembered, Lygari will be there.

Relationships: Taught Ysla Stormhand a number of stories in her youth. Currently under the hospitality of the Watchwolves in northern Mardrun. Claims to know every important figure of the Ulven people.

Fully-sworn member of the Brotherhood of the Lore-Speakers

Rumors: Despite how Lore-Speakers are charged to wander Mardrun seeking out stories, he has not yet been to the territory of the Northern Watchwolves.

He is currently seeking an apprentice to take on his duties as a Lore-Speaker.

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Brotherhood of the Lore-Speakers

Introduction:
There is no doubt that Ulven society is highly superstitious, paying homage to the Great Wolf and Mother Gaia in their day-to-day activities. Of the two, it would seem to an outsider that Gaia is the most strongly venerated; the priestesses (for they are always female, with rare exceptions) of the Ulven people are her Daughters, as well as the most apparent members of the religion. This comes from the nature of these gods; while the Mother Goddess guides her children, the Great Wolf is not called upon except in battle, and he is rarely venerated in the same ways as Gaia.

A priesthood of sorts exists as counterparts to the Daughters of Gaia, only their knowledge is far different. While the Daughters of Gaia have a deep connection with the land and nature, the Lore-Speakers have that connection with the history and stories of the Ulven people. While the Daughters guide, the Lore-Speakers challenge. Where the Daughters of Gaia shepherd those in this life, the Lore-Speakers make certain that none that have died are forgotten.

These figures wander from clan to clan and family to family, collecting stories to tell, songs to sing, and names to remember. Their sole duty is the preservation of this knowledge, whether through endless recitation to all who wish to hear, teaching it to other Ulven, or simply writing it down. At all times, however, the Great Wolf must hear these words that they preserve, so that those who fell might achieve safe passage through the forests of the next life.

To be considered as a potential Lore-Speaker, an Ulven must commit to never staying in one place for longer than it takes to learn the story of that place. While this has sometimes led to stationary Lore-Speakers, more often than not it leads to endless wandering. As part of this vow, no clan may ever turn away a Lore-Speaker, for they have given up everything for the Ulven people. Should one be turned away or forced out for no other reason than his vocation, it would be a sign that a pack had resigned its connection to the Ulven people. Thus far, no pack has done so.

While a pack cannot turn away a Lore-Speaker, they are not required to provide for them; all must possess a useful skill or trade to assist those who are around. Most have a trade; some survive solely through the telling of stories and singing of songs for their food and slumber.

A prospective Lore-Speaker must apprentice with a fully-accepted member of the Brotherhood before he is allowed into their ranks. During this time, they learn stories, help attend to their master’s needs, and learn the necessary skills of the Brotherhood. It is common for Lore-Speakers to teach their apprentices with humiliation, mockery, and practical jokes, that they may grow used to being outcasts in a community. It should be noted that they will also defend their apprentices to the death – many a legendary Ulven saga is purported to be recorded by an entire line of Lore-Speakers, each of them passing the story down to their apprentice when they were cut down in battle.

The most important rite of the Lore-Speaker is their final rite, which forever brands them as committed to this strange order; they must give up their name and deeds, letting it die as a secret within their heart. A Lore-Speaker renounces clan and pack, name and family, so that they may tell the story of the Ulven people without bias. While most Lore-Speakers take assumed names, this is not their true name, and so upon meeting the Great Wolf, they are all doomed, for he will not recognize the name of the Ulven standing before him and will devour them. One tradition states that Lore-speakers become a part of the Forest of the Great Wolf, but so far, no one has come back from the dead to confirm this.

The chosen name of a Lore-Speaker usually reflects some characteristic of themselves. Apprentices often take on the name of their master when they die, for they see themselves as the continuance of a grand tradition. A few Clans have their own traditions associated with the Lore-Speakers of the region – Stormjarl traditionally gives the speakers a sea-blue garment when they have passed through the region, and the Grimwards require that a Lore-Speaker spend their first night in the territory speaking the names of all those who died to a stand of trees.

While this position seems to be high status, most Lore-Speakers are tolerated for their skills, rather than the service they provide. It is unwise to draw too much attention from the Great Wolf excepting when your deeds are glorious, and so they are occasionally seen as bearers of ill omen. This is even more so in recent years; with the colonists arriving on Mardrun, news is more often ill than good. More often than not, a Lore-Speaker is hosted for anywhere from a few days to a week before they wander on.

An important role of a Lore-Speaker is the recitation of the deeds of the greatest of warriors. If an event is seen as significant to the Ulven people, then a Lore-Speaker is required to come after news of it spreads and compose a work to commemorate it.

It is not forbidden for Lore-Speakers to take mates, but it is uncommon due to their migratory nature and the secrets that must be kept from their mates. Some packs even reverse the normal courtship rituals for Lore-Speakers, while others believe it is the worst fate a child could have and outlaw it completely. It is nearly unheard of for a Lore-Speaker’s son to follow in their footsteps.

Every eleven years, the Lore-Speakers are rumored to converge on a secret location to share stories, spread the word of the Ulven people, and ensure that the knowledge of the Ulven is being preserved. This site is carefully hidden and well-defended, to prevent Mordok from stumbling on it. Were it to be found and the Brotherhood killed, it would destroy thousands of years of Ulven history and knowledge.

Known Lore-Speakers:
Lygari

Lore and Stories:

This is a story told only on the longest night of the year, when the moon is full and the Great Wolf hunts the lands of Mardrun.

The Night of the Longest Shadows

Listen, children of Gaia, wardens of the Great Wolf, for the story that I speak is an old one, never to be forgotten among all the clans. Every year it is told, and every year it is shaped by the brave warriors who have passed into The Journey.

When the spears of the Great Wolf perch upon the eaves and the sun dies, the story must be told, for on that long night, the distance between worlds is shorter. Our forests are linked with all forests, and so it is said that those who still wander their Journey may pass through on this night. Even still, the Great Wolf may find you on this night, as he roams this unfamiliar land and seeks out those who would evade him for fear he does not know their name.

We do not leave the homes at this time, for if we did, the Great Wolf might find us and devour us before we have passed into the next life, for if you cannot tell him how you were sent into the next life, he will assume you a coward and devour you, no matter the strength of your deeds. The doors are barred, the windows shuttered, and the whole of our homes lit so that we might wait out the night.

How, then, may we pass the time? Many great deeds have taken this year since the Great Wolf wandered our forests, and so we must let him hear these tales, that he might listen at our barred doors and learn of those who have passed into their Journey. This tale shall open the night, for it is the story of this night that is passed from knowing man to knowing man for generations.

In the time when our ancestors were still young and our families still scattered, before we had the knowledge of words and the understanding of life, we did not understand the importance of this night. Our warriors were buried beneath the earth, choking and trapped from the Journey, and we did not live properly, trapped as we were in this world.

A great chief arose. Fast was his blade, sharp was his mind, and brave was his heart. He had walked the path of the warrior for his life, and when he took for him a mate, he was confident that his legacy would be eternal. His mate laughed quietly even as she bore him sons and daughters, for he was prideful and believed himself to be the Chosen of the Great Wolf.

In those ages, this night was not understood, and many great warriors died before their time, never to find the paths to the next life. This great chief was not afraid of the night, and spoke that he would find the beast who stole brave warriors on their path. He placed upon himself a coat of plates, hung his blade at his side, and placed his shield on his back, girded to set out and find this foe.

As he wandered the roads, he came upon a warrior, wary and with blade drawn against the night sky. Drawing his blade, he cried out a challenge, seeing him to be an honorable warrior. They met in furious combat, and it was not long before the strange warrior lay bleeding on the ground. The chief read the patterns on the warrior’s shield and found them to be those of a warrior he remembered from a battle not long ago. This warrior had been slain by his hand. He knew then of the sorcery of this time, and grew wary.

It is here that I will end the first part of this tale, for we also wander the night. Let us eat, regain our strength, and think of those we must remember from this past year. Like the chief, we know there is something strange afoot, but we are not yet wise to its nature. We may yet behave incautiously, for the night has not truly fallen.

– – – – – – –

My brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, friends and companions – let us return to this tale. We have eaten well, and drunk better. We have thought of this night as it falls, drawn deeper and deeper into the darkness that no being might know, so that we might know the truth of our people. Let us rejoin the chief, so that we, too, might wander the paths which cross our world.

He wandered as the night grew longer, traversing paths and crossroads, making no effort to hide his trail, for he feared no one and believed himself to be the equal of any foe. When at last the peak of night came, he found himself at a crossroads. He stood in the center, bellowing a challenge to the night, a wild howl.

A howl answers him, greater and louder than any he has ever heard. A dark shape emerges from the forests to the edge of the crossroads. It is the Great Wolf, sleek of body, proud of purpose. He is the father of our people, the one who knows all, who walks our forests, who brings us prey, and who grants us the spirit of the Warrior. As Gaia is mother to us, kind and merciful, so he is stern and strengthening, for without his guidance.

At this time, the Great Wolf was known, but had never spoken with his people. We knew him to be the father, but we did not know how he guided us. The Chief, proud as he was, believed himself to have been chosen by the Great Wolf and so spoke to him. He spoke thusly, “Great Wolf, I am a great chief. Grand are my deeds, and great are the challenges I have faced. I stand before you on this night a loyal son, seeking to find the beast which hunts my people on this night.”

The Great Wolf replied to him, his words seared in his mind. “What is your name, Chief? And who sent you out in this night?”

The Chief spoke of his great deeds, telling the Great Wolf all that he knew, but since he was not yet dead, the magic of that night forbade him from speaking his name to the Great Wolf. He talked of his deeds for a long while, that the Great Wolf might know who he was by reputation alone. At the end of each deed, the Great Wolf asked him again his name, and again the Chief found himself unable to speak it.

At last, the Great Wolf grew impatient with this Chief’s deeds, asking him, “My son, why do you defy me? I wish to know one thing, that I might tell if I recognize you, but you tell me nothing but stories. I shall devour you if you cannot tell me your name, for only a coward refuses the use of his name.”

It is here that again the story must pause, for our next tale may only occur at the close of the night, when all are tired and the new day might come. Much like the Chief, we must now speak the deeds of our great companions, that they may know the stories and tales. If these deeds are false, we may judge them only on their craft as storytellers, but if they are true, the Great Wolf’s ears will ring with their names. I urge caution, however! Utter not the names of the dead, lest the Great Wolf think they hide in this home!

– – – – –

Let us return to the story, for the night has drawn to a close. The dawn threatens, and so the sun is reborn. Our chief is in peril, as are all who may have left this night. The danger will soon pass, however, as we are nearing the end of this tale.

The Chief, for the first time in his life, felt fear. He knew of the Great Wolf, but he did not know that He was the beast who terrorized his people, killing them on this long night. With all his mighty deeds, he found himself unable to tell the Great Wolf his name, and so he knew he was cursed to die there, forgotten and nameless. At this thought, he drew his sword, slung his shield onto his arm, and howled. The Great Wolf charged.

The moment the two met, there was a sharp cry. His mate, the Daughter of Gaia, spoke for him. She said, “Great Wolf, you know not what you do, for this warrior yet lives. Gaia has told me of your hunt, and it is misplaced here. His name is forgotten, for the knowledge he brings will stand the test of time, and he was sent by my hand, for is it not the mother who sends the child into the world, the wife who brings her husband from the battlefield?”

The Great Wolf paused in his assault, for though the Chief was strong, he would surely die beneath his claws. He turned to the Chief and spoke to him. He spoke thus, “Great Chief, your mate speaks truth. Foolishness removes the greatest of deeds, and even your name will be forgotten for this foolishness. Know this; that on this night, I hunt your lands and follow those who believe themselves able to sneak out to the lands of the living once again. Leave not your homes, but remember those who died, that I might guide those who have wandered here mistakenly back to the true path of their Journey.”

With those words, the Great Wolf howled, and the sun rose again. As the dawn began, the Chief remembered his name and was ashamed. His mate, the wisest of women, returned home with him again, and they told their people of this story. The truth of it was recognized, and though the names of those two are forgotten, their deed lives on, and it is certain they passed by the Great Wolf together on their journey.

So too has this night finished. I am just the storyteller, who has given up his true name that he might tell these tales to the rest of his people without endangering himself. Here, in the last hour, I may tell a single brave warrior a single truth. Bring forth your candidate!

(A candidate is brought forth and told a single important truth)

The truth is revealed! Warrior, keep it secret until you know the time is right, for this knowledge is not for those who fear the Great Wolf’s teeth.

The night is closed. Let us greet the sun when it rises tomorrow, and send the final remains of our vanquished warriors to the sky. Finally, speak the names of all those who have died, that we might hear their names once again!