Illuvinari

On the Shoals of Eternity
01/29/5055 thru 01/30/5055

Caught in a strange arcane trap, the party must find a way to escape the alien tower in which they find themselves.void_tower.jpg

Characters Involved: The Raptors

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The Infinity Net
12/31/5054 thru 01/28/5055

astral_trap.jpg

On the way to a mission in the Gold Plains the party’s teleport is redirected by a mysterious force.

Characters Involved: The Raptors

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All Our Sins Remembered...
09/24/5054 thru 10/12/5054

“Illuvinari: Final Movement” Kick-Off Session

Characters Involved: Eqximiye Carlack, Fo’wyn Tiranyaare, Kelroth Carnen, Thangil Elendu, Y’Draesk R’rgelnev

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The Sound the Wind Makes
An Evening at the home of Trellian Amaruathruil

home.jpg

The Amaruathruil family maintains a small, but striking dwelling in the heart of Ceralon, less than an hour walk from the great council hollow.

It is here, amidst an unassuming grove of white birch, to which the travelers retire as the day dims. As the first stars begin to shine, they pass beneath the trees and are greeted by their host, who is dressed in long robes of subtle greens and ivories. Arranging them comfortably on a broad veranda, through which a small brook cheerfully burbles, Trellian, head of the high council of the elves, attends the needs of his guests. Food and drink, both lavish and simple are made available, lain on settings of porcelain and crystal, which in turn rest upon tables and stands of polished stone and living wood. Only after his guests, who include Nikerym Nirculdar of the Khilasa tel’Shae, and Rillelauren Aseaheru of the Eldarea, are settled and comfortable, does Lord Amaruathruil himself take his ease in an elaborate settee with a steaming cup of aromatic tea.

Several small fey begin a quiet, painfully lovely and wordless song from unobtrusive perches hidden in the shadows and overhead in the interlocking boughs. Glamours fade into being about the grounds, thus cloaking the gathering from casual eye or ear, as Trellian sips his tea delicately with eyes closed, taking a second or two to appreciate its flavor. He then watches as his guests in turn sample their own refreshments, eyes flashing amethyst as they frankly appraise and assess some measure of the thoughts of those who have come to his home.

Nirculdar sips a citrine-colored liquor from fragile-looking crystal glass, nods appreciatively and raises it in a salute to his host. “Yum!” he declares, in a surprised tone.

Lord Amaruathruil smiles and laughs, “A! Yes, a fair judgment indeed! Although I am certain that there are those that feel that lorien is a beverage deserving of more formal praise, I think that even the most fastidious of them could hardly argue your ruling!”

As the sea-faring elf assesses his wineglass with awe dawning on his features, the councilor laughs again, saying. “No, please, good Nikerym, drink! It only has value if it is enjoyed and I can tell you with certainty that it better relished with the tongue than with the eye!”

At his host’s urging, Nirculdar once again begins taking slow, savoring tastes of a drink that, had he a score bottles of, he could finance a new vessel of the Khilasa tel’Shae.

From an elaborate stand nearby, the council head takes up a small orb of polished wood about the size of a man’s fist. He pauses a moment, admiring its simple elegance – the intriguing and pleasing topography of the dark knots, offset by the whorls and fine lines of the blonde wood-grain, as if the whole were some curiously formed map then delicately and deliberately strokes it, causing it to twist and spread open, like some magical blossom. The inner sides of the wooden petals thus formed are decorated with panels and slivers of ivory and rose-colored jade, held in place with golden wire, adding to the illusion that a strange flower has just bloomed in the cradle of councilor’s palm.

“Lady Carlach,” he says, reaching into the orb to pluck forth a small, glittering bundle. “I understand you have many contacts outside Fennas Ear,” he states. Gesturing slightly, the shining object floats across the chamber to where Eqximiye sits upon a gilded stool.
“I would solicit your opinion on this. It comes to me in my capacity as defense minister, some months ago.” He continues as Rille bends forward to view the object as it alights gently in the Speaker’s outstretched hand. “It was found upon a trio of edan <men> who sought to enter our borders undetected. Very skilled they were, but they could not contend with the band of pixies who discovered them.”

The item proves to be a tarnished locket upon a chain, of excellent workmanship most likely originating from one of the human kingdoms in the gold plains. Opening it, a portrait is revealed, depicting a dark haired, sturdy human boy of perhaps some dozen summers. Eqximiye recognizes it as a representation of a young Timmerek Votaren, of the blood royal of the kingdom of Keloania.

Speaking on, Trellian says, “This also, was borne by one of them.” A heavy gold ring floats through the air, joining the locket in Eqximiye’s palm. On it, a plain onyx plate bears the emblem of a thin, red five-pointed star on a gold circle the sigil of a Keloanian order of Knighthood.

“Two of the intruders were put into an enchanted slumber and returned to Fennas Ear. The other died of his injuries, much to our shame,” utters the councilor.

“A!” Says Rille, speaking eagerly, “Then you were able to question the man’s spirit? What did you learn?”

“Question the spirit? Yee! Necromancy?” A look of supreme disgust clouds the fairie’s features. “Necromancy is forbidden in Leiore, young eldar! By Queen’s Law its practice within these borders is punishable by banishment or death! You would do well to remember that!”

Turning from the stricken elf, Lord Trellian Amaruathruil addresses Eqximiye once more. “Keep them for now, Speaker. Return them when you are certain there are no more secrets for them to tell.” He closes the orb and returns it to its stand.

“My Lord,” Eqximiye begins, looking at the locket. “Do you, by chance, know of the whereabouts of this boy?”

For a long moment the only sounds are the rustle of the trees and the eerie singing of the hidden fey.

Nirculdar stretches grandly and addresses Lord Amaruathruil. “Long have my people been departed from these lands, Aredhel <elflord>, will you tell me how the council works? I would that my folk had a voice in what is decided about the queen.”

“Of course, Nikerym <captain>, I would find great delight in that,” says Trellian, smiling. “There are not very many rules, so do not fear, you shall no doubt find them easy to master.” A faint smile touches his lips as violet eyes seek out the visages of his other guests, including them in the lecture. Any Tel’Quessar (the people) may attend and speak at a moot. Any Tel’Quessar may attend a council meeting but cannot speak unless they hold a seat. Any N’Tel’Quess (not of the people) may attend a moot or council if they are sponsored by a Tel’Quessar. Thus is the case with yourself, sir," he says, gesturing to R’thall. “There are six types of seats”

His voice tails off and a brief flash of annoyance ripples across his features as his eyes fix on the foot of the stair that leads deeper into the Amaruathruil home. A small, wide-eyed child with dark, curly hair clutches a ball and stares at the guests.

A human child.

“Aiya!” Cries the girl as she runs forward and leaps onto the settee with the councilor, hugging him tightly. Trellian’s expression of irritation changes to one of genuine love as he returns the human child’s embrace.

“Zori?” Calls a woman’s voice, “Come here, sweet, leave Lord Amaruathruil alone. Can’t you see he has guests?”

“A! But mommy! We haven’t seen uncle for months!” Pouts the child, beginning to braid the long golden locks of the head of the council of the elves.

The raven-haired woman, also human, moves quickly into the chamber and gathers up the girl, and bows to the elf lord. “I am sorry, Heruanmin (my lord), I thought she was asleep”

Trellian raises his hand, gently silencing her. “There is little harm done, go, put her to bed,” he says, his eyes twinkling. “For if she bides her mother and goes to sleep, then I will give her the gifts I brought her.”

The child chirps happily and waves as the woman whisks her off.

For many minutes no one on the veranda can seem to find anything to say.

“Suu,” mutters Rille quietly.

Trellian turns cold eyes upon the youthful eldar. “I would ask you do not speak such things in this house –- a house in which you sit as a guest.”

Nirculdar looks confused. “I don’t understand. ‘The wind’?”

Trellian looks to the high elf. “It is used by some in Fennas Ear when speaking about the shorter-lived races.” Looking to R’thall, he says, “It means, `the noise the wind makes,’ in this context it also means `always present, always changing, never of any import.”

Nirculdar raises an eyebrow. “It must have come into fashion after my people left. I’ve never heard it used in such a manner.”

“Primarily those who are overly concerned with the integrity of each other’s bloodlines use it thus. Personally, I find such obsession with racial ‘purity’ distasteful, in the extreme.” Says the councilor, looking frostily at Rille, who, clearly has decided to not speak for the remainder of his stay.

“I know – you might find it odd that someone such as I would feel thus. After all, I can trace my lineage back to the third age. There are, perhaps, less than a dozen families that can claim as much. I know of only one clan that can,” he says, glancing significantly at the prince.

“They have something,” he says, voice full of passion and eyes now alight with purple fire. “Something we as a people have lost, or perhaps never had. They live fiercely and fully, knowing they have so little time,…” he gestures after the departed humans.
“We could stand to learn from them, I think, my prince.”

Eqximiye replies, “Truly, it seems that many of our people do not see the value of humanity.” She significantly does not glance at Rille. She sighs. “Often we forsake intimate relationships with humans, because we know that it cannot be a long-lasting friendship. It seems to me a philosophy doomed to mediocrity. We need to be reminded sometimes that a sunrise lasts but a few minutes, yet its beauty can burn in our hearts eternally.”

She turns and smiles at Rille, “What opportunities might we find if we learn to combine the life span of our heritage with the intensity of humanity?” She then turns to their host, “Forgive me sir, I did not mean to begin a lecture in your home, but you have mentioned a topic that is dear to my heart. One that the prince and I feel quite strongly about.”

She smiles at Kelroth, who replies, “indeed. The Lady speaks truly. Knowing where you’re from is one thing, but being insular only leads to your own eventual doom . . .” The Prince’s voice trails off, and he stares at the floor a moment, and then realizing what he’s said adds, “But again, we wouldn’t deign to preach in your home.”

Clearing his throat quietly, smiling, Yestamir says to the Lord. "You should spend some time in the city that we have built, your Grace. Our “city in the mists”, where life is fierce, but so is our enjoyment of it, and of ourselves! A place where there is never a dull moment I can assure you!" Standing now, stroking his pale chin, Yestamir looks to Trellian and says: "I can’t speak for any other than myself my Lord, but it seems that to love one of the s…., one of the second born, would only bring unending sadness to the elf that did so in thiramin. I myself could think of few things sadder than 60 years together with my beloved, and then, an eternity of sadness until Sehanine came to take me. It would take all my willpower to merely face each new day, let alone be of use to my community and those depending on me.

Sitting back down, depressed by his own words, Yestamir looks, nevertheless, curiously in the direction of the departed little girl, wondering how the elf Lord could still manage to smile, knowing he would most certainly see her die before him.

Eqximiye looks startled at this speech. “I was not speaking of a romantic relationship sir, but of close friendship. However, I stand by my comments. Would you refuse to drink our good host’s wine because you may never taste it again? Would you turn your back on my sunrise because its beauty is fleeting?” She smiles at Yestamir to show that her words are spoken in friendship and good humor.

Bowing low and grinning “I would never refuse to sup OR drink with our host, Lady Carlach!” Nodding to Trellian “your Grace”. Sitting again, looking at everyone thoughtfully. “I certainly hope I didn’t offend anyone here when I spoke of the second born, but you’ll forgive me for taking your point to its logical conclusion, or at least one of them, which is a melding of the two races. I must beg to differ though on your analogy between wine and living things. I can tell you that those that keep their distance from the shorter lived races do so with good reason.”

“If I may relate a story from my own homeland on just this subject? My city, Amcarofarne, is located very near what the southern humans would call a settlement of ‘barbarians’, a term which I find very misleading and disingenuous, as these people are anything but. Close to their environment perhaps, with little time for leisure, but certainly they are graceful in their own way. Anyway… I have spent periods of my youth living with these humans, joining them at their tribal hunts, watching them practice and prepare for war, seeing them worship their own cold and distant Gods. A fascinating experience, and I like to think that others of my kind took as much from the meeting as I did.”

“There was one particular human lad named Birka Thorson, a hearty, robust man of 20 summers. Long blond hair, blue eyes, as big as four elves, and filled with the fires that our host speaks of. It was hard, even as an elf to not find enjoyment in his ways. The man was never without a smile or a laugh on his lips, and was one of the few that we allowed into our city, which was where I myself met him, meeting him at what passes for our town library, trying to learn the ‘Elvish scrawl’ as he called it.”

“I took it upon myself to help him, for certainly there can never be too many humans that can read and write in the language of the faerun! It was a task which I came to enjoy, and while difficult teaching a native speaker of Klirdd the nuances of our speech, Birka came to learn it well enough, which made him something of a celebrity amongst his folk. It helped him become tribal leader of his people, and also gave us fine liaison with those humans for things like mutual defense.”

“To keep from boring all of you gentle kinfolk though, I will make the story short. Birka lived to be 50 years old, which is a rarity amongst the people of his kind, even WITH our clerics paying occasional visits to heal the sick. I knew him for a total of 30 of those years, and I got to see him, to my eyes at any rate, begin a decline into ill-health and brooding decay which, I for one, almost never see amongst the elves. I saw a robust man go to the opposite end of happiness, the low being equal to the high.”

“I had gotten to be very, very close to Birka, and spent many a hunt with him, or bringing him new books to read from the mustier parts of our halls (if one can say we even HAVE must!), and breaking bread many, many times with him and his wife and children. I enjoyed his company more than I would have thought possible, and so I opened myself up to him as I would have an elf, as a close friend, and somewhat like a brother. It broke my heart to watch him pass away in such pain and agony, to be “umanned” as his kind would call it. I was counselled by the elders of my kind that this was something that would happen dozens, or even hundreds of times were I to be continually close to the humans.”

“Dozens? Hundreds? That is a very high number, one that frightens me to my core, because I don’t think I could stand that feeling of loss that many times. We all endure sadness, but there is a price for too much sadness, and that is a hardness and a callousness of the heart, such as what a mercenary soldier must feel on his hundredth campaign. So I guess I hardened my heart to keep my heart from hardening, if that makes any sense. Is there room for human friendship? Of course. Will it ever be like that I extend to my own kind?” Yestamir looks around carefully, "No, I don’t think so, if only for my own mental well-being.”

“Where am I going with this rambling monologue you may ask? Simply this: Knowing a human is one thing, even having a bit of friendship with them (for certainly friendship on this world is always in short supply), but how many times can any of us that live so long as we elves extend our hearts to be broken by the ill-winds of time and its decay? Once? Twice? Ten times, before we can no longer take the sorrow that comes with knowing those of the shorter races?”

“I think there is a REASON why elves and humans are separate, and it’s not because of malice or cynical superiority, but for the sanity of our souls. Because our Lord Correlon, and his right hand, Sehanine Moonbow, have made us different for a reason. What that reason is could be one of the mysteries of the ages, but as I’m certain Lady Carlach can tell you, nothing comes out of a vacuum. Our gods have a plan, but I am not sure if it’s to teach the lesser races and then fade away, or to combine with them as some sort of NEW race, or to subjugate them as in the days of old (although I hope not).”

Looking around for any clerics, and then rhetorically asking one: “if you have any clues of what our lords would do, now is a good time to let the rest of us in on their plans!” He winks and raises his cup to Trellian.

“I know only this, I am honored to be amongst such fine company as I am with tonight, to be rejoined with my kinfolk, and my uncles, aunts, and cousins. If only my father could be here tonight, and grandfather, and above all our Queen, life would be complete, but let that not sully our cheer and meticulous planning for the future of this realm. Let the past guide us towards a better future, a hopefully happier and safer one!”

Raising his goblet: “Thank you Lord Amaruathruil. Were my King here, he would certainly join me in my toast. To you and your generosity. The pleasure is all mine!”

R’Thall, is still looking a bit shaken from his experience with the tree. Indeed, looking down into his paws that rest on the dire flail across his lap he doesn’t even raise his head to look as he adds, “You should then know that a life lived fiercely cannot be spoken of in static terms. A queen has died, and yet are you here to replace her, though not…not in your hearts. There’s a lesson there.”

He’s quiet for a moment as if having to weigh the words he himself had spoken, and gleaning whatever personal meaning he could from them. R’thall raises his brow as he ventures a look, waiting to see if he has spoken out of turn, or raised any ire.

Eqximiye looks surprised at the depth of R’thall’s observations to Yestamir. “We can never replace the Queen in our hearts,” she says with feeling, her eyes moistening. “She was beloved by us all.” She blinks away the tears and continues, “Yet someone must lead our people. With her death certain options once open to us are gone. We must decide who will lead us forward into the new Age, and our choice will determine how we interact with the rest of the world.”

She pauses and nods at their host, “There are many, I think, who would choose to close our borders and abandon the port city to the humans. But for those of us who live in the world outside Leiore, we know that to ignore the world will not make it go away or forget us. It will only allow the ruin of our allies and cut us off from their aid when enemies arrive at our borders. Therefore we must assure that the elves maintain a presence in the outside world. Our leader, our new queen…or king…must be able to deal with the forces at work in Illuvinari today.” She looks to Lord Amaruathruil for comment.

Kelroth intercedes saying. “You were telling us how the moot is conducted?”

“A! My apologies, I was going to tell you of the workings of the council?”

Jumping on the chance to change the subject, Yestamir chimes in, “Indeed Prince Kelroth, indeed!” Looks to Trellian expectantly.

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Emissaries
09/12/5054 thru 09/24/5054

Strange visitors arrive in Ceralon. [via ChatRoom]

Characters Involved: Eqximiye Carlack, R’Thall, Kelroth Carnen, and Yestamir

Welcome to Episode 3: Emissaries

Timestart Ivanneth 12, 5054

Kelroth – you are at the Ost – XMA and R’Thall in the palace at Fenis Ear – remember Hithlorien is still trapped at this point

Reader please note that the ‘run’ date is actually 12/15/02, the tag has been altered to keep log posts in the correct order – The CDM

XMA and Kelroth – late in the morning you are both “pinged” by the orb

Kelroth: Hello

Operator: Excuse me, your highness, Lady Carlach, The duke wishes to speak with you both

Eqximiye: Certainly

Celethor: Kel? Eqximiye? I think I’m going to need you here in the city

Kelroth: When?

Celethor: Soon I think. I’ve just received word that a ship has pulled into the harbor, an elven ship. I’ve never seen it before.

Eqximiye: Where are you Cel?

Kelroth: Where do you want me to land?

Celethor: I’m in the ballroom that I’ve turned into an office

Eqximiye: I’ll be right there.

Celethor: How are you coming in? Porting?

<eqximiye>

Kelroth: Be there in a moment

Celethor: Uh, Kel?

Kelroth: Porting, yes.

Celethor: Into the palace? Give me a moment to kill the wards.

Eqximiye: R’Thall, follow me if you would. I am summoned by the Duke.

Later notes:

Celethor: <also> We need a response team in place to deal with any other ‘lost kin’ – make it happen

Eqximiye: <glances>

Yestamir: My character pauses, not following the “Duke”. He looks at Celethor, and says: “At the risk of sounding brusque… I was told to look for Korethor Carnen…” Licking his lips, looking worried… “He is no longer Duke?”

Kelroth: Going? (to XMA)

Celethor: <celethor> My grandsire – (looks to Kelroth) Our grandsire, Korethor has passed to the shining realm. I am Celethor, son of Dior. This is Kelroth, my brother.

Yestamir: Looking really worried now…, to the people in my party… “And Dior?”

Kelroth: <deep>

DM: Our sire has also passed into the realms. We hear their voices no longer.
DM: <celethor>
DM: the other three “blue elves” look significantly at each other and their leader.

Yestamir: Looking shocked: “I had no idea… This makes my journey thricely difficult.”

Celethor: (looking concerned) How so? Please, give us your name, if you would. We mean you no ill here.

DM: The youngest male opens his mouth

Yestamir: OOC: Chuck, I slap a hand over the younger ones mouth.
Yestamir: OOC. Make that a motion

DM: The leader motions him to silence
DM: Celethor raises an eyebrow

Yestamir: May we follow you inside, my Duke? After we find a comfortable aerie for our steeds?

Eqximiye: <eqximiye>

Celethor: You may, once I have your names – I do not invite strangers in my house. Your steeds are already being fed and watered in our aeries.
Celethor: I welcome you to sit, here and eat. Accept my welcome

DM: He gestures to the lavish feast that is even now being assembled by the staff

Eqximiye: <whispers>

Yestamir: Of course. This is Aleron Isarania, this is Dolianr Isarania, and this is Nel’Sharwyn Ringare (two males and a female) and I am Yestamir.

Yestamir: Looking quietly shy… “Yestamir Carnen.”

Eqximiye: <eqxmiye>

DM: Evening creeps in – the faerie lights grow brighter – candles and mage-lights litter the tables, Celethor sits comfortably and the largest table and gestures to Yestamir

Celethor: Come, Yestamir – break – what?
Celethor: Yestamir – Carnen? (gapes at Yestamir)
Celethor: (looks to Kelroth)

DM: (Celethor looks like he’s trying to gage how old Yestamir is)

Eqximiye: <eqximiye>

Kelroth: (looks back)

R’thall: R’thall looks back and forth looking for a resemblance between Kelroth and Yestamir
Celethor: (Celethor looks as if he has a sudden insight and looks to Kelroth)

Eqximiye: Well Yestamir Carnen, welcome to Fennas Ear. Please come and eat with us, that we may learn of you and you may learn of us. I am Eqximiye Carlach.

Celethor: (Laughs suddenly)
Celethor: CELORIK!

Yestamir: Looking somewhat reserved, though not unfriendly, "Thank you, Lady Carlack. It would be my pleasure.

Kelroth: ooc: Celorik?!

Eqximiye: <looks> It is difficult to know. We have lost track of many it would seem.

DM: Rillelauren, Eqximiye’s secretary enters the glen and moves to stand by her side “You called, My Lady?”

Yestamir: My uncles. I was sent by my King , the mighty Tar’ Elrandil Sarithor to give greetings, and to pay our respects to the Queen, who we saw pass on in our dreams. Long have we remained away, but we have returned for the nonce. I am authorized by my King to sit in his council seat, should such a thing be needed.

Eqximiye: <quietly> Rille, it seems that the death of our Queen summons many heretofore lost to us to our side. If others arrive, we may need to improvise quickly. Please remain close in case Celethor, Kelroth or I need you. <she> Feel free to poke around, subtly of course.

DM: you two (Kel & XMA) have heard the name Elrandil Sarithor – he was an Eldar – Mortethion’s greatest opponent – an Autumn Leaf – vanished a few years after Jawarl fell

Kelroth: ah-so

DM: <rille> As you wish, (smiles at Kelroth)
DM: Rille departs

Kelroth: ooc: was that a “Hi boss” smile, or " I know what your up to" smile

DM: <the>
DM: <and>

Kelroth: Then I would have smiled back

Eqximiye: I have heard of Elrandil Sarithor from my uncle Mendorian Carlach. He spoke well of your king always.

DM: Celethor makes small talk with the blue elves for a time, then draining a crystal goblet, he pours Feywine for himself, Kelroth and Yestamir

Celethor: “Come nephew”, he says somberly, drink with your uncles.

Yestamir: Accepts goblet graciously. A bit more ornate than I’m used to seeing.

Kelroth: <take>

Celethor: I fear your reaction the fell news I must give you…

Kelroth: <look,>

Yestamir: “Things surely can’t be worse than Dior being dead?”

Kelroth: <exhale>

Celethor: When was the last time you saw your father, Yestamir (he rests a strong hand on Yest’s shoulder)

Yestamir: About 10 years ago. He came to visit when he could during his travels.

Celethor: (looks to Kelroth then back to Yestamir) It sorrows me more than I can say that he… He too, has passed across the sea…

Kelroth: <makes face="true">

Celethor: (draws Yestamir to him – embraces him)

Yestamir: <goblet> What? surely this can’t be…

Yestamir: What happened?
flagstones: (looks to Kelroth for help)

R’thall: How about the other blue elves. how do they appear to be taking this news?

Yestamir: WHAT HAPPENED? < a bit more strongly than he means to>

DM: shocked, like they just heard that superman died

R’thall: aaahhh

Kelroth: typing

DM: He fell in the Sorrow Wastes – it is a long tale, Yestamir – here (passes a newly filled goblet) Sit. Drink. I will tell it.
DM: waiting for philvash to finish typing

Yestamir: <looking> A long tale, with a short ending it seems… <takes>
DM: The other elves begin to drink heavily
Yestamir: <as>

DM: It looks like the others might be taking the news more to heart than the death of the queen – but then – it is fresher

Kelroth: “We don’t know everything that happened. He was leading a great host in the South. With him went a weapon of power.”

DM: Aye, he bore Blackrazor

Yestamir: <looks>
Yestamir: BLACKRAZOR… I have heard of Blackrazor.

Kelroth: “A terrible weapon.”

Yestamir: <makes>

Kelroth: “All who went before him . . . <pause> fell.”

DM: Celethor shudders and pours more Feywine

Yestamir: OOC God sign is for Sehanine Moonbow
Yestamir: <yestamir>

DM: <celethor>

Kelroth: “He had taken it upon himself to carry this thing, but when he saw what it did, he left with it into the wastes.”
Kelroth: <kc>

Yestamir: It is remembered to be a horrible burden to any who would carry it. Was not my father strong enough to pass the test?

DM: It is around this time, as Kelroth spins his tale, that you all may notice (depending on how engrossed you are in the story) that Nirculdar has joined you, pouring himself some wine and sitting in an unobtrusive spot nearby

Yestamir: <looks>

Kelroth: “None have the strength to wield it, when it is awoke.”

Eqximiye: <eqximiye>

DM: Oh he was strong beyond measure, Yestamir. Of that be certain, strong enough to wield it to devastating effect. Strong enough to bear it away when it became too strong.
DM: Nirculdar raises a glass silently to Eqximiye

Yestamir: But… he was not strong enough to rid himself of it…

Eqximiye: My Uncle helped him. <eqximiye>

DM: I think he could have – but felt it was safer for those he loved to take it – and himself away…
DM: Celethor begins to weep

Yestamir: <looking> And what became of him. And IT?

Eqximiye: <eqximiye>

Kelroth: "He was strong enough to take it away, where it would no longer feed. <takes>
Kelroth: “We have looked for him, but can not find him.”

Yestamir: He is dead then…
Yestamir: Irrivocably?

Kelroth: “We believe so”

DM: <wiping> That is the damned CURSE of the matter! We do not KNOW…where he fell – only that – fall he did

Yestamir: <murmuring> Have any attempts been made to return him to us?

DM: Celethor rises
DM: Yes, many, but none have met with success

Yestamir: That is not good. For it may mean his soul is not where it should be…

Eqximiye: <eqximiye’s>

Kelroth: “He who carried it is gone.”

Yestamir: And what is this person’s name? <drinks> Certainly there’s a way to get information from them.

DM: <laughs> Oh no… I think not…

Yestamir: <looking> To Tar’Elrandil
Sarithor, his health and happiness. <she>

DM: Aleron (the older male companion of Yestamir) speaks, saying “Power-lust is something we learned from the edain (men). A poison that the Eldarea took into their hearts <bitterly>. We are better without them.”

Yestamir: Hear hear! <looks>

DM: Dolianr (the younger male) stares at Eqximiye as if seeing her for the first time

Eqximiye: <eqximiye> All I ever valued was stolen from me by the Eldar. They destroyed the girl I was and created a woman consumed with bitterness and anger. Do not allow them to do the same to you, I beg you.

Yestamir: <softening>
Yestamir: OOC I meant straightening, since he’s already standing

R’thall: "Off to the side,quietly, yet not ignoring the thread of the ongoing dialog “Nirculdar, is it? I try to understand the deep history of the Elves. What part do your seafarers play in the history of this ’Eldaria”?

Yestamir: <as> Let them work it out themselves.

DM: Aleron stands and stares angrily at Eqximiye as she speaks. He stares a moment into her eyes, finding there a grief that rivals his own. His face softens and his eyes fill with tears. “Faydrie…” He looks away. “I lost my sister. I came to discover her fate… Forgive me, Lady – I have had too much drink…”

Yestamir: As have we all. Too much drink and too much sadness for one night to bear adequately.

DM: <to><eqximiye>

DM: Rille bows and relaxes, turning leaves the glen swiftly
DM: <to><raising> It is all right Aleron. I didn’t travel hundreds of leagues to risk getting my face smashed in. <smiling> I accept your terms Lady Carlack, as long as you accept that I want to know the truth, and nothing more. You have to believe me when I say how hard a trip this was for us to make.
Yestamir: I personally would hope that, while all of us bear the racial memory of our people of what occurred during Mortethian’s time, I would wish, beyond all hope, for any chance that old wounds could be truly healed.

DM: <aleron> But Yestamir, <pointing> There’s something you need to know!

Eqximiye: I too wish for those wounds to be healed. Let us and any you wish to include adjourn to my study, where we may speak freely.

DM: MY BAD
DM: THAT LAST WAS FROM DOLIANRNOT ALERON
DM: <dolianr> But Yestamir, <pointing> There’s something you need to know!

Eqximiye: <eqximiye> You’d better come along too.

Yestamir: Yes my friend, what is it? <draws>

Eqximiye: <eqximiye>

DM: <in> She’s got Lady’s Mark!
DM: She’s been marked by Aerdrie!

R’thall: ooc: R’thall lumbers over to XMA " I would watch thing you offer to do."

Yestamir: <gulping,> WHAT?!

Eqximiye: Thank you so much for announcing it in the gardens! That is between myself and the goddess, and if you ask politely I may…MAY explain it.

DM: Dolianr looks very young now and quite taken aback

Yestamir: Lady Carlack, I beg to differ. If it was between ONLY you and your GOD, that mark wouldn’t have been placed where ALL CAN SEE IT.
Yestamir: STOP
Yestamir: Messed up

Kelroth: <kelroth><retract><asks>

DM: Dolianr looks very young now and quite taken aback

Yestamir: <instead,>

R’thall: “I’m surprised. Nothing more.”

DM: <aleron> Hush now, Dol – let us handle this – sit and drink some more – or better yet – go rest

Yestamir: AHEM. I am all for someplace less public, as per your suggestion, Lady Carlack…

Eqximiye: <eqximiye> Shall we go inside or shall I bury myself up to the neck in the earth and you can pelt with stones?
Eqximiye: <sarcastically>

DM: You must forgive my brother

Yestamir: <placing> come now Lady, no need to stand here…

DM: Rille returns and indicates that all is ready

Eqximiye: Let us go in then
Eqximiye: <eqximiye>

Yestamir: <turning> My Lord… our steeds…

DM: Later in a scry-proof study with only Kelroth, Yestamir, Eqximiye and R’thall….

Yestamir: Take back last statement. Again
Yestamir: <steeds>

Kelroth: ooc: mmmm cooked mice

DM: Eqximiye sits down (Rille enters and stands at the closed door) and Yestamir kneels before and purposefully places his hands upon her face

R’thall: R’thall stands next to Rille

DM: <typing>

Kelroth: <k>

DM: Yestamir’s eyes begin to burn like points of silver fire – a sudden flash of rainbow light sweeps away from the blue-haired elf and disappears.

Eqximiye: OOC: afk a sec, fixing a snack for the Team over here

R’thall: R’thall inhales audibly

DM: A low pitched hum – as if many voices were murmuring just out of sight begins to be heard and goo begins to coat the floor, Eqximiye and Yestamir – but evaporates almost instantly leaving no residue
DM: <typing>
DM: Yestamir’s eye’s fade as does the humming
DM: He looks relieved and Eqximiye blinks – “is that all?”

Yestamir: Truly, there is now hope. Light where for me was once darkness. Thank you Lady Carlack for being so trusting. And all for being so honest.

DM: <xma>
DM: Rille looks somewhat disappointed and opens the door, telling the plethora of guardsmen outside to stand down
DM: Yestamir looks somewhat weary but happier than you’ve see so far

Kelroth: <k>

DM: Eqximiye appears to have suffered no side-effects whatsoever

Yestamir: <pulls>

R’thall: “You are not a wizard- that was not simple magic.” R’Thall says to Yestamir

Yestamir: <in> And you are more than just a simple gnoll as well.

Kelroth hiccups and then searches for a glass of water

R’thall: R’Thall goes from wonderment to not amused. “Very perceptive.”

Yestamir: <grins>
Yestamir: <offers>

Kelroth: “Thanks”

R’thall: “Gnolls prefer blood to the juice of rotted fruit. In this much I am what you would call typical”

Yestamir: <shrugs> Sits down.

R’thall: (ooc: aren’t we leaving XMA’s office?)

DM: Over the next few day, as the His’Quessir (elves of the mists) settle in and make friends with their kin, others arrive. First the beautiful wood elf Lindomerel and her group from the Southern Wyrmwood. Soon after, three grugrach, painted and wearing clothing made from leaves arrive from the jungles far too the south. A grim looking male named Morthond leads them.

Yestamir: We’re skipping a bit.

Kelroth: security will be a nightmare

R’thall: You might skip, but gnolls don’t. I guess its ok for an elf to skip around but gnolls have dignity and… oh I get it

Yestamir: OOC Smart alex

Kelroth: instead of a nightmare, perhaps we could use a yith-hound?

DM: Two days before the moot begins, a portal opens outside the city, through which a dozen dusky skinned elves pass. The males shave their heads and wear only thin linen skirts and sandals – as do the women – both are heavily made up

R’thall: OOC: No. Security will be an Intellect Devourer

Kelroth: ooc:might starve around here

R’thall: OOC:a small one then?

Kelroth: ooc: sick it on the hobbits

DM: The leader – named N’Terru – greets the Duke formally – over several hours they begin to ‘loosen up’ a bit
DM: The come from far across the sea – from a great desert empire
DM: an empire of humans

R’thall: OOC: This elf human thing is kinda popular

DM: OOC: the eldar hated it…

Kelroth: More maps?

DM: Captain Antinua goes slowly crazy

Kelroth: ooc: don’t fight it

DM: Yes more maps – the duke has pulled every jeweler from city

Eqximiye: OOC: TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES, ONE MOMENT
Eqximiye: OOC: I’m right there with the good captain
Eqximiye: OOC: I think we’re about ready

gilrand joined the room

Yestamir chuckles in amusement

DM: welcome

Yestamir bows gracefully

DM: okay – where were we?
DM: oh yes

R’thall: Quick before I start making OOC quips

DM: ahhh
DM: hurrying

Yestamir: OOC Easy there quipmeister

R’thall: I’m holding it. I’m holding…

Kelroth: he’s gonna blow

DM: The Duke plans to go to the Moot – who else is?

Kelroth: me

Yestamir: Me.

DM: good – then you can stay <wink>

R’thall: Yes, I’ll be there

Eqximiye: Me
Eqximiye: I will be sponsoring R’Thall’s presence

DM: OOC: The Gnoll? In Laiorie? ARCHERS!
DM: OOC: oh – that’s okay then

gilrand left the room

DM: Celethor will be coming late to the moot – something about N’Terru’s entourage
DM: but the moot is 6 days long – so he sends you on ahead
DM: XMA,
DM: Xma, R’thall, Kelroth, Yestamir & friends and Nirculdar travel into Laiorie, crossing into the elven forests
DM: Ivenneth 23

Eqximiye: OOC: I am also taking Rille with me

R’thall: Is there a path or we going through forest?

gilrand joined the room

DM: walking – along with many, many other elves

Yestamir: ooc yoo hoo
Yestamir: ooc dale still getting errors

DM: Nirculdar spends a lot of time talking with Nel’Sharwyn, who is clearly enjoying his attempts to impress her
DM: although it appears that he is not getting anyway fast – this does not seem to bother him

R’thall: R’thall was kinda just standing around back in the city (?), but he is more animated when in the woods

gilrand left the room
gilrand joined the room

DM: ?

Eqximiye: Eqximiye encourages R’Thall to enjoy himself a little

R’thall: Not on a leash?

Eqximiye: Nope, no leash

gilrand left the room

Eqximiye: Eqximiye does tell R’Thall that creatures of faerie live here and may tease him

DM: which they do

R’thall: “I’ll keep my eyes open”

DM: It is 160 miles to Ceralon, the capital of the elves (so you ride – my mistake – sue me) during the two day trip many other elves join you, staring curiously at R’thall, Yestamir and Nirculdar

R’thall: OOC: R’thall takes a deep breath “It will be good to run again”

gilrand joined the room

R’thall: R’thall walks/runs

Eqximiye: <eqximiye>
Eqximiye: <to> How I long to see Aduilbar again. I wonder if there will be the time to go there before we return.

DM: As you arrive in Ceralon – the heart of Laiorie, you the trees mix with the buildings in such a way that it is difficult to gauge just when you entered

Kelroth: to xma “Mayhaps”

R’thall: OOC: R’Thall scouts ahead, loops back, flanks, ect., every couple hours reporting back to Eqximiye, breathing deep

gilrand left the room

Kelroth: I wouldn’t let R’Thall get out of site, for his own safety

DM: OOC: Dale’s gonna try from home

R’thall: How long does this take?

Yestamir: OOC: Okay for me to ride me owl Chuck?

R’thall: Game time

DM: OOC: the whole trip from Fenis Ear to Ceralon is 2 days

Eqximiye: I tell R’Thall he should stay in sight of our group as much as possible, for gnolls are not allowed here and someone might shoot him before asking questions

DM: OOC: Yes, you may ride your owls and be there one night

Yestamir: OOC No, we’ll fly with everyone else.

Eqximiye:

Yestamir: OOC Give the owls a break

R’thall: You notice R’thall is kinda edgy. it started a few hours into the forest

Eqximiye: R’Thall is everything alright?

R’thall: He doesn’t sleep a wink

DM: Ceralon is more full of elves than any of you can remember

R’thall: "This place. Its… Yes. I suppose I will be fine. Its been too long.

Eqximiye: Too long since what?

Yestamir: OOC Everyone is coming home, to say goodbye.
Yestamir: OOC How sad.

DM: OOC: yes that is it exactly

R’thall: Since I’ve been out..
R’thall: “Tell me what . What is This Place?”

Eqximiye: Ah. <to> I am going to pay my respects to the Tree. I shall return anon.

R’thall: “Why must you pay respect to a tree?”

Eqximiye: Come with me and I shall explain

Kelroth: <kc>

DM: The counsel meets in a great bowl of a dell, ’neath the roots of might weirwood tree which fully three-score feet in diameter.
DM: (grumble grumble) okay – the “tree”
Eqximiye: This Tree, the daughter tree is a holy symbol of my god. Many died to save this tree, so it’s life essence would not be perverted.

R’thall: “This place… This forest.. Its.. Why is this place.. Like the way it is?”

Eqximiye: What do you mean?

DM: XMA goes to the outskirts of Ceralon, where in a quiet glen surrounded by monoliths stands a tall sapling.

R’thall: “It touches you. But there is.. Its difficult. I don’t know if I have the words…”"

Eqximiye: She whispers to the Tree “Goodbye Cassandra, goodbye Serandil. Until we meet again, Celemar.”

DM: This tree appears to be an oak, but appears lit from within, beneath the bark as it were.

Eqximiye: <she>

R’thall: Who is on his knees, near hyperventilating

Eqximiye: R’Thall!

R’thall: R’thall is quietly gasping in breathes

Kelroth: We should get him away

Eqximiye: <eqximiye> What is happening to you?

Yestamir: Yes

Eqximiye: <she> Quickly, help me!

R’thall: “Nnnoo”

DM: a few other elves pass into and out of the glen, some stopping to touch the tree or drop an offering at it’s roots

Eqximiye: <she><eqximiye>s the scoop – the high elven counsel meets the first day after every cardinal holiday.

View
Yesterday's Window
10/14/5054 thru 11/14/5054

emine.jpg

While journeying home to honor his fallen sire, Thangil Elendu makes a surprising discovery.

View
Mortethian's Legacy
11/05/5054 thru 11/14/5054

n_a__8_.jpgPursued by the newly freed Hithlorien, Vroxen and Y’Draesk must flee.

View
Requiem for Melcorith
3/16/5053

Son of Kothar —

Time hangs heavily upon such as we, each heartbeat inexorably bearing us down a path whose end grows ever more distant. For when Fate, Chance and Power contrive to entangle mortals in their striving, the possibility of release diminishes as the Struggle progresses. Indeed, a simple artisan would not discard a tool as long as it possessed usefulness.

Some principles must be universal.

And what if one could extend such usefulness indefinitely? Surely simple economy demands replacement become the lesser option. Again, some principles must prevail universally.

Continuing this same line of conjecture, let us also suppose these tools could themselves become more experienced? Produce more precise and effective results because of their seasoning? Listen to the ring of truth in my words. The retirement of such an instrument becomes idealized at best. Indeed, the craftsmen themselves could become so dependent on such tools that their loss would be a serious set-back to their work.

Perhaps even crippling.

The time is now. Come, Son of Kothar, let us make an end of it. I await you where the shadows live.

— He who wears the face of
Melcorith Moonblessing

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Tower of the Heavens and the Prophecy
Gwirith 27, 5052

wasf.jpg

Gwirith 27, 5052 of the Age of Enquant (Refilling)

After a brief rest, Prince Kelroth and his friends are given a task by the Duke. They are to go to the Tower of the Heavens to consult with the Oracle and request a prophecy. The Tower of the Heavens is located approximately halfway between Fennas Ëar and Braxton-on-the-Hill to the south, up in the mountains. The group gathers up supplies and leaves for the Tower of the Heavens.
Meanwhile, in another part of Fennas Ëar, Y’Draesk R’Gelnev is sitting in an inn called the Spotted Newt, at loose ends. He notices an unusual looking elf come into the bar. This new arrival is a High Elf with the gold hair of a Grey Elf. The High Elf begins harassing the waitress and threatens to stab her, for no apparent reason. Y’Draesk stands up and challenges him, as does a dwarf also drinking in the inn at another table. Half the patrons flee the taproom, but before the fight can ensue a large human man in black armor enters the room. He calls the elf “Kory” and tells him, “I have discovered the Prince has already left. We don’t need more trouble here – we need to hurry and catch up.”
After the two leave, Y’Draesk strikes up a conversation with the dwarf, who is named Corin Keystone, and they become friendly. After some discussion, they determine they’re both looking for something interesting in which to get involved. Y’Draesk remembers that he heard his cousin Thangil has been hanging around with one of the princes, and is concerned about him. They decide to follow the Black Knight and the elf called Kory and to warn the Prince if they can. Tracking the human and the elf, they catch up with them at a fountain, where the two are talking to a vulchling. They follow them out of the city and to the south, but eventually lose their trail. Unsure of their next move, they continue onward towards the Tower of the Heavens.
Meanwhile, Kelroth’s party runs into, and must combat, a caterwaul. This is a lucky encounter, as the caterwaul has lots of treasure in its lair. They finally arrive at the Tower of the Heavens, and talk their way into an interview with the head sage. He tells them they can have a prophecy, but first they must do something for him. He asks that they collect a meteor that fell nearby. Kelroth and his friends agreed to go get the meteor and headed out.
They encountered a tribe living near a lake, keeping a strange group of pets. “That’s a big beaver!” someone exclaimed. Kelroth spends some time playing fetch with the beavers. The tribe members tell the party of an area close by where a meteor landed. After this encounter, Y’Draesk and Corin catch up with the group and deliver their message. Kelroth invites them to accompany the party on their mission.
As they wander the area, looking for signs of the meteor, they find a small cave with a pool in the back. They explore the cave and discover there is a tunnel leading underground at the back of the cave. While they are poking around, the cave’s inhabitants, a group of derro move into position and attack the party. Outnumbered, the group retreats from the cave. Tellador decides to scout the cave using his Ring of Invisibility. However, he fails to explain his plan to the group. He sneaks into the cave and waits for a good opportunity to bypass the derro, now moving around inside.
Thangil looks back and sees that the derro are pursuing the group, and pulls a globe from his Necklace of Fireballs. Tossing the globe into the cave, he covers their retreat. (OOC: Greg objects, and Dale says “Chuck, do I see him?” The answer, of course, is no.) Tellador is nearly killed in the blast, and is left wearing only his cloak. Luckily, the derro in the cave are killed outright. The party moves back into the cave and defeats the remaining derro. They discover that the derro had possession of the meteor, and they have won their prize.
They return to the Tower of the Heavens, but are refused entry. Mavou casts spider climb and scales the building, and through judicious information gathering (spying) through the domed glassteel observatory, discovers the leader has been imprisoned during a revolt inside the tower. Kelroth writes a note explaining that the elves were taking over the Tower, since it was technically part of the Elven Lands. Twenty minutes later, they receive an audience with the leader of the revolt. Each sage within the Tower is accompanied by a monk, and this sage’s bodyguard was also a shade. The group manages to fight their way through the Tower to the chambers of the previous head sage.
When they arrive, he lets them enter, and explains the reason for the revolt. For centuries the sages of the Tower of the Heavens had been giving out incredibly accurate prophecies, which they claimed had been divined by studying the stars. Actually, they were using prophecies from a library filled with books of divinations. They had reached their final prophecy, and the sages were enraged that they might lose their means of financial support. The final prophecy claimed that if the sages could recover the meteor, and would give it to a specific group of Svirfneblin (Deep Gnomes), they would receive additional books of prophecy. The sage asks the party to take the meteor to the gnomes, and bring back the books of prophecy. If they do this, he will give them the divination they seek. Kelroth and the others agree to do this.
The party follows the instructions given in the final prophecy through a tunnel into the underdark, guarded by two red dragons. They manage to get inside the tunnel and then must cross a bridge guarded by a turtle-like automaton that fires jarts at them. They flip the automaton over and off the bridge where they meet a group of Deep Gnomes. The party negotiates with the gnomes, and the gnomes explain they have come here due to a prophecy of their own. They take the group into a chamber with half a prismatic sphere rises from the floor. As the meteor draws close, the sphere shrinks until it disappears, leaving a large pile of books. The gnomes agree to give the books to the party if they can take the meteor away. The party agrees. The gnomes also provide Kelroth with some jarts. They suggest the party leave quickly because they plan to collapse these chambers as they return to their home, far underground.
On the way out, they must deal with the two red dragons, as the dragons’ cave was directly overhead. While they tried to come up with a plan inside, with the door closed and barred, Tellador decided he wanted to try to talk to the dragons.
Kelroth looked at him and said, “If you go out there, I’m not letting you back in.” Tellador laughed and slipped outside. A few minutes later, Tellador knocked furiously at the door, “OK, let me back in guys…”
Kelroth responded, “No.”
“Seriously guys, let me in now!”
“No.”
Eventually Kelroth relented and opened the door. Tellador came back in and told the group what he had learned of the layout of the area and the location of the dragons. As the party brainstormed, trying to come up with a solution, they realized they were not afraid. Or at least, they were not unreasonably so. Therefore, these must be young dragons. They decided to try to outwit their foes.
They called out to the dragons, offering them gold, gems and magic items if they would come down to the tunnel. Overcome with avarice, the dragons agreed. When they reached the tunnel, Kelroth cast slow on the two dragons. One of the dragons used its breath weapon on Kelroth, nearly killing him. Y’Draesk casts wall of force from his Ring of Spell Storing, preventing additional injuries as a result of their breath weapons. Corin guts one dragon, while Thangil skewers the other with his bow.
The rest of their return trip to the Tower of the Heavens was uneventful. They arrive and give the book to the leader, who was properly grateful and gives them a prophecy for the Duke in return. The Prophecy read as follows:

And so it came to pass that in the year of the Dancers, the third son of Carnen took the throne of Fennas Ëar.
The Great Darkness stretched forth its hand and took the Biter from the Carnen Clan, and brought forth a servant of old.
And so the Leaping Flame gathered companions around him, and struggled with The Great Darkness to decide the fate of the new age.
In the Year of the Dancer a Great Darkness will reawaken.
The last of the Lich Kings reawakens.

Upon their successful return to Fennas Ëar on 6/1, the Duke grants the titles of Earl of Greycliff and Protector of the Eastern Greenwood on Kelroth. Kelroth discovers that he now holds lands and a keep along the coast.

View
Lachrunya and Alcarg the Elf Slayer
Ninui 16, 5052 of the Age of Enquant (Refilling)

mondru.jpg

Prince Kelroth Carnen, 6th child of the Duke Dior Carnen of Fennas Ëar had had enough of life at the palace. He craved anonymity, and interaction with simple folk. Following a sincere desire for a vacation from life at the court, and the opportunity to follow up on his hobby of collecting human folk songs, he packed his bags and slipped into the city. There he joined the caravan of Jorik the Spice Merchant, who was headed to Laroosh, a human city-state in the Republic of Keloania to the south.

He soon made new friends among the caravan guards, introducing himself as a wandering mage, Lachrunya. Among these friends were an elven rogue called simply Mavou (previously played by Dan), a halfling priestess of Brandobaris named Penney (previously played by Wendy), an elf named Tellador (previously played by Greg), a grey elven ranger named Gabriel (previously played by Monica) and a wood elven ranger named Thangil Elendu (Dale). On the road, they encountered an ankheg and manage to defeat it with minor injuries only. Alas, two of Thangil’s injuries were inflicted by Kelroth’s jarts. Hitting your target isn’t as easy as it looks during practice.
After defeating the ankheg, several members of the party needed to train. The party decided upon reaching Braxton-on-the-Hill that the caravan should wait for them to train further, and arranged this by feeding the horses of the caravan local greens that didn’t agree with them. Someone also broke the axle of one of the wagons. While Jorik was trying to sober up the horses and get his axle fixed, the party took the opportunity to train and improve their skills.
A few more days of travel found the caravan still crawling toward Laroosh. As they reached the human fishing village of Awad, where Jorik planned to spend the night, Kelroth found his memories drawn to the great elven city of Jawarl Avignon that had, within his life span, claimed these very shores. As they drew up to the village, he fancied he could almost see the ruins from where he sat. He remembered his grandfather, Duke Korethor’s griffon stable with its proud mounts, and his grandmother Lisandra’s beautiful gardens. He had been in the north, in Lëiore, during the orcish attack that sacked the city, killing the Duke and Duchess and many of the royal family, leaving his father heir to the Ducal title.
Arriving at Awad, several humans rushed out to meet the caravan, refusing them entry. Further investigation revealed that the humans believed the village under a curse or plague. In fact, they were about to hang a sage, Cremard, who was leading an archeological expedition in Jawarl Avignon, in the hopes of placating the curse. Kelroth, quick to sense injustice, used a bluelight cantrip to convince the townspeople that Cremard was innocent.
Jorik soon approached Kelroth and his friends to ask them to investigate the situation. He badly needed to trade at Awad in order to make profit on the journey. The group agreed and enlisted the aid of Cremard. The group traveled out to the ruins, while Cremard explained how this rumored plague had originally caused the orcs to lose the city after the elves fled. When they arrived at the ruins, they discovered that orcs had attacked the members of the expedition. Mavou found Andros, Cremard’s young assistant, hiding and convinced him to join the group for safety.
The party discovered from questioning Andros that the orcish tribes were uniting under a half-orc calling himself Serga Ulmos. This half-orc was claiming to be a descendant of Mondru IV, the leader of the orcish army that originally took Jawarl Avignon. Serga Ulmos had been a member of the expedition originally, and was known to both Cremard and Andros. They soon discovered that Serga Ulmos was seeking the legendary spear Alcarg (an elf bane weapon), which was rumored to be lost in the ruins.
The party chose to attack Serga Ulmos’ forces and try to prevent him from getting the spear and raising the banner of Mondru IV. After killing many orcs, and doing much sneaking around, they realized the tunnels underneath the surface were laid out like an orc holding a spear. Once inside, they easily made their way to the temple at the heart of the design, where Mavou promptly defiled the statue of the orcish god Gruumsh by taking a large ruby from the eye of the statue.
Eventually they located the spear, which was in a secret chamber off the temple corridor, and Penney was forced to carry the spear as the only non-elf in the group. Even Penney was not immune to the spear’s evil influence, and within minutes she began to hear a voice telling her to kill all the elves around her. The party was forced to waste valuable time devising another way to move the spear. Finally, the bundled it in an old cloak, and fled to the north.
Their journey north was fraught with peril. The constant rain, which seemed unnatural, depressed their spirits, and made travel slow and tedious. During this time, Mavou took young Andros under his wing, teaching him the skills of the rogue. During this journey, they were attacked by vulchlings on several occasions. Finally, on the body of one of their defeated foes, they found a clue. It was an odd coin, which the sage Cremard identified as a “Sul Coin”. This coin was ancient and worth a fortune to the right collector. Its origins could be traced to the time of the Gurth Morgul Herui, almost 5000 years in the past. He cast a comprehend languages spell and read the writing on the outside of the coin to the party, “For all debts, public and private, one gold piece, honest.” Desperate to escape their pursuers, Penney used an amulet she had to animate some dead horses on the side of the road and the reluctantly rode their new mounts back towards Fennas Ëar .
Their road took them back through the human town of Braxton-on-the-Hill. They abandoned their undead mounts and went to stay in the inn there, in the hopes of throwing off any enemies still on their trail, or at least of getting a safe night’s rest. When they arrive they find an expensive carriage outside the inn. There is a group traveling from the city of Keloania, the capital of the Republic of Keloania, to Fennas Ëar . Among these notables is Content Not Found: lady-shadow, an important personage with a mysterious reputation. The party decided to ask her for help, but her traveling companion, Thiorian Braskin, would not allow them to meet with the Lady.
Finally, desperate to reach Fennas Ëar , Kelroth showed Thiorian Braskin his signet ring, proving himself a member of the royal family of Fennas Ëar . The rest of the party was amazed to discover Kelroth’s exalted identity, but he soon put them at ease with his friendly manner. Lady Shadow agreed to help the group, and saw them safely to Fennas Ëar .
Once they arrived in Fennas Ëar , the group immediately went to the Duke and turned over Alcarg, which was taken to the royal vaults and hidden away. The group separated to train and advance their skills with promises to meet again soon.

While training, Mavou discovered that the Guildmaster of the Fennas Ëar Thieves’ Guild, Content Not Found: delcarth, had disappeared. The Guild purged all Delcarth’s supporters and began calling themselves The Hand.
Shortly thereafter, he met Kelroth and Thangil in the city and began recounting this information to them. As they took a shortcut down an alley, a half-elf turned down the alley from another direction, moving quickly. Mavou recognized him as Helios Alten, an old friend. After introductions were made, Helios warned them that he was being followed by someone whom he thought was a guild assassin. They quickly made for the marketplace to set a trap. They let the assassin trail them into the marketplace, and then Mavou, wearing wizard’s robes at the time, grabbed him. He started beating the assassin while shouting, “Lousy thief, trying to pick my pocket, I’m going to kick your ass!”
Kelroth was hiding in an alley nearby. He shouted, “Look out! It’s the great wizard Paleran, and boy does he look pissed!” The crowd, instead of fleeing, gathered around the fight. Kelroth followed up by casting a dancing lights spell over Mavou’s head. The crowd fled quickly, but the city guard arrived before the party could flee. They were all arrested.
Upon arriving at the guardhouse, Kelroth again flashed his signet ring, to prove his identity. The guards pull out a little red book and flip through it, finding the correct word. They then speak the word to Kelroth’s ring, which replies, “I belong to Prince Kelroth Carnen and I have not been stolen.” The guards release the group, holding only the man who had been following Helios upon Kelroth’s command.
Mavou and Telledor, together with Helios, began piecing together the information they had on the new guild. The Hand continues stirring up trouble in Fennas Ëar , especially by inflaming racial anger between elves and humans. Eventually, they think they know the location of the new guildhall and where Delcarth is being held. The party goes in and eventually frees Delcarth, defeating the guild members present. Everyone except Kelroth is amazed to discover that Delcarth is actually Deloroth Carnen, Kelroth’s uncle. Although they realize that many of the leaders of the Hand are still on the loose, they return to the palace to regroup and heal up.
Finally, the party locates the ringleaders of the Hand at a manor house outside Fennas Ëar. Celethor, Kelroth’s eldest brother and heir to the Ducal throne accompanied them. He is skilled in both magic and combat and expects to be of great assistance. Within the manor house were three main villains; a Red Wizard of Koth, a female mercenary and a priest with a mace and an evil laugh. Kelroth, using jarts with sleep poison on them, managed to dispose of the cleric. The rest of the party managed to kill the wizard, but not before he did a retributive strike with his staff, wounding many of the group. The female mercenary fled with Celethor and Thangil hot on her heels.
Thangil tracked her until they caught up and engaged the woman. She killed Celethor, fighting like a maniac. Shortly after, the party caught up with them and killed her, but too late to save Celethor. They gathered up the bodies of the fallen on both sides, and the unconscious cleric and returned to the palace.
Dior and Elenariel were inconsolable with grief at the death of their eldest son. Dior went so far as to have the mercenary raised so he could kill her personally after questioning her. When the party went to wake the cleric so they could question him, he muttered something vague about his master coming, and started chanting. Somehow, something killed him from a distance. The palace wards had discovered that he was in mental contact with someone else, which should have been impossible in the palace dungeons. Kelroth and the others were very concerned about his body. It began a rapid decomposition once he died and they feared he would rise as the undead. Upon searching his body, they found only two clues to his identity. The first was a holy symbol of a red mace. No one in the party was able to determine the nature of the deity signified by the red mace. The second item was a ring that was intended for someone important.
Thus ends the first portion of the Saga of the Band of the Red Hawk. All the events recounted above took place between the 16th of Ninui and the 26th of Gwirith in the year 5052 of the Age of Enquant.

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