Aftermath

Elalanil Moonfire stands on a wooded hill at the edge of the forest he has protected for most of his life, and hangs his head in sorrow.  It is a parting he never expected.  This is not his home anymore,  not now.  Perhaps it never was.  It is hard to reconcile the lifetime of change that has come over him in the short time he traveled with the band of misfits he now feels closer to than he does his own kind.  That is what happens, though, when the bonds forged by war are tested by those who have never known such things no matter how long they may have lived.

He had tried to explain to the Enclave what his friends had sacrificed and why they had done it, and that they were deserving of remembrance as the heroes they all were.  It did not matter if one was an Orc, or a Pirate, or whatever other group the Enclave was prejudiced against.  What mattered was that these Brothers of his had given their lives to save not just the forests, but everyone and everything that would have fallen into the grasp of the Spider Wizard and his allies.

But the Enclave, despite all of their years and all of their vaunted wisdom, failed to see it as more than a minor nuisance they could have taken care of themselves had it gotten to that point.  They even explained how the whole expedition was nothing more than a convenient way to get Elalanil out of their way for a time while they considered what to do with him.  They went on to say that his beliefs were just too different from their own and that they would not be accepting him into their order, but as a 'thank you' for handling the forge issue they would do him the high honor of allowing him to keep his territory and his title.  Their mannerisms during this brief speech made it quite clear that they thought it was much more than he deserved for such a trifling deed.

The bitter memory brings tears to his eyes, the first he has been able to shed since crawling out of the dirt and debris from what had become of Wave Echo Cavern, a trickle that once started becomes a torrent as he sinks to his knees wracked with pain and loss.

Sometime later, and after regathering his composure, he sets out to meet with The Druid of the Wood to collect his Owl Bear cubs.  From there he will continue on to his new home, a place where he can raise the cubs in peace and build a proper memorial such that even The Old Man of the Wood would have to take note of it.

It suddenly strikes him as no coincidence that he should be compelled to save the cubs and raise them, an incredibly risky and foolish endeavor, and also be spared from certain death at The Forge.  A profound peace settles over him as he realizes that The Oak Lord had known the outcome all along, and that He had provided all that he could.

Elalanil's stride lengthens in his impatience to begin his vigil, and to guard the graves of his friends to the end of days.

A Song and a Memory

From the writings of Ardil Fellar, on the destruction of the Spell Forge and the formation of Zook. 1508

… At first it was just the songs. They spread from small inn to small inn. Audiences claimed that the performer or performers ended with them. Interestingly, the performers themselves had no knowledge of performing the songs, not the first time. The songs were never the same, at the beginning, only being “normalized” when non-entranced bards learned them, and used their craft to refine them. However, the songs all featured similar elements, and the same cast of characters, telling the story of Zook and his party, discovering and destroying the Spell Forge at Wave Echo Cavern. The cast, now all famous in their own right, consisted of:

An Orc holy warrior with no name
An ex sea captain named Virgil
An elven druid named Elalanil "El"
A brave goblin named Droop
And Zook himself

    More curious were the performers who gave the first “tranced” performances. Days apart, all former members of a troupe called “The Clash at Tethyamar Keep” (a troupe who achieved some moderate renown along the Sword Coast) had each performed a version of the epic. Interviews later revealed that a long missing member of this troupe, whose full name was Glimzookfrugsindri "Fnippernim" Ningel-Nackle, occasionally went by “Zook”.


    After the songs spread through the Sword Coast, a curious discovery was made. At the Bard College in Waterdeep, amongst the stacks of books considered fiction, a new tome was found. “The Clash at Cragmaar Keep” was discovered by chance, when a librarian noticed (as their kind is wont to do) books out of place. The text describes in much greater detail the same story the songs told.

“...all he could think, as the sorcerer stormed into the room, is it must be destroyed. The gnome’s magicks were not enough alone. The answer lay in the fallen body of the traitorous Glasstaff. As the gnome ran, he dropped his notes. The only thing he had never let his companions see, it contained this story...their story.

“Run!” Zook yelled.

No One, Virgil, and El hesitated. They faced death from the sorcerer and his bugbear cadre on one side, and a companion whose actions weren’t clear on the other. Through everything they had done so far, surely together they could take this next threat? Soon it became clear, the Bard’s goal. The sorcerer saw this as well

The gnome streaked towards the orb, scooping it from the charred body of its former owner. Zook thought the burning would start immediately. It did not. Had he not the power to wield this artifact? The Sorcerer saw an opening in this hesitation, and signaled his attack. Throwing spells at the running gnome, while his guards advanced on the rest of the party. El replied in kind with arrows, as he and the others dove for the entrance to the cavern.

The room flashed, and Zook screamed. The gnome had activated the orb, and held it aloft over the Forge. His hands and arms to the elbow already blackened by the power of the orb. Zook screamed again, “You shall not have its power,” as he slammed the orb into the magical font.

The magical blast destroyed the cavern, the mountain containing it, and all in the vicinity. All, except Zook.

Through some fate, the gnome survived. Changed heavily, now a being of magical energy. Perhaps a god. As the dust settled, a green flame enshrouded figure shot through the rubble, and far into the sky…
[The Clash at Cragmaar Keep]

So, it is possible that the entity known as Zook is the very same who joined the adventuring party in seeking out Wave Echo Cavern, which led to the destruction of the long lost Spell Forge. It also seems likely that Zook placed both the songs, and the book into the material world. For now we can only speculate on the reasons why.

The Pitch

It has been far too long since I played Burning Wheel.  Brandon has been busy this summer and I've let other games distract me.  But the desire grows and presses against my brain so that I can think of little else.  I want to play BW again and....

Okay, I feel better.

Some of you may have been following my previous game, in which we see an aging Grimnar "Greymantle" Voss attemp to rid himself of the curse that is The Father of Swords.  In doing so, he has stirred up or, more accurately, found himself smack in the middle of a battle with the spirit world.  It's too early to say if this battle was caused by the Sword, or if Grimnar's luck just led him into it.  Nevertheless, that campaign seems to have stalled, so I've tempted Brandon to return to the world of The North is Burning by travelling back in time and examining the adventures of a younger Grimnar.  Before he is burdened by the Father of Swords and before he has even earned his "Name" among the people of the north.

It has been established that Grimnar's children are both red-headed, so it stands to reason that before he goes totally grey (probably has something to do with the Sword), he also had red hair.  That's why I love this picture to represent a young Grimnar.    Here's the pitch I sent to Brandon:

Behold, young Grimar Voss, a man who has not yet become "Named".  He seeks his fortune and fame in the South, where the merchants are rich and free of care and the nobility is fat and ripe for plunder.  What adventure will he find?  What riches will he accrue?  What cursed swords will he forever be burdened with?

Only Brandon can answer these questions....

Let's hope he takes the bait!

(If you have no idea what I'm talking about, please start here:  The North is Burning)

An Historic Day!

As only CTRL+ALT+DEL can express!

Elalanil's Report, Part 2

My companions and I traveled on to Old Owl Well with some trepidation, given the news I relayed to them from my feathered contact.  When we arrived we saw signs of battle everywhere, most of it older, and a tent.  A fresh tent.  With humming coming from it.  My companions and I chose to hide while the bard played a trick on the unseen inhabitant, softly playing the accompanying tune to the sound brought on the wind.

As my companions crouched in hiding I surveyed the ruins, again wondering about the nature of nature.  What was the line between protecting nature from destruction, and destroying nature in the name of protecting it?  At what point did savior become destroyer, and protector become aggressor?

I was startled out of my pondering by the man humming in the tent, who was clearly the "brother in red" we were told about.  I had been so preoccupied with my musings that I hadn't paid proper attention to hiding with my companions, and was easily spotted.  This intellect can be a curse sometimes.

The man in red didn't seem to take too kindly to my presence and demanded to know what I was doing, a request accentuated by summoning a group of zombies.  While it was bad enough that that wasn't overly friendly, the worst part was actually trying to figure out if he was a threat to nature.  Obviously working with Undead is highly unnatural and should be dealt with, but something persuaded me to listen to what he had to say.  I find that when I don't know what to do, if I just show a little patience the solution will present itself.  So I listened and tried to figure out the correct course of action.

In the end we came to the mutual conclusion that neither was out to hurt the other, and he pointed us in the direction of some Orcs.  Orcs are something I don't have to think about, I know they are an abomination to nature and that The Wild One is always pleased when I reduce their numbers.  It also bought me time while I considered what to do about zombies in my area.  And is it my area?  Is my area only the one assigned to me by the council, or is it wherever I happen to be?  And if it is just the one assigned by the council, does that mean that anywhere I traverse on official business counts as my area?  Questions, questions, questions, and no answers!   Hunting orcs is much simpler.

Following the instructions given by the Red Wizard of Thay we easily found trouble, once again while resting.  Side note for trivia:  did you know Ogres are tough?  Well now you do.

I won't bore you with the details of that fight, it went pretty much text book:  It attacked us, we attacked it, it fell on me and pinned me while my companions continued to beat it senseless, I got out from under it, and then it was over.  Nothing to write home about.

We proceeded to track it back to its cave, but saw that it just had a small family there, no need to continue the attack.  We traveled on.

When we finally found the Orc cave we were looking for we discovered it wasn't just your average Orcs.  Not only were there average ones, there was one burly one with a wicked axe.  Oh, yea, and an OGRE.  Nothing is as simple as it should be!

They had a guard posted in an excellent spot, very difficult to sneak up on.  Fortunately arrows sneak fairly well, especially when the target is distracted by having something important skewered by our entirely too sneaky swashbuckler.  On the plus side his suffering was short.  The plus side being that he suffered, of course, not that it was short.

We waited for his replacement to arrive so we could pick them off one by one but alas, this plan was ruined by an untimely dinner.  When the battle was joined we learned some important things:  ( 1 ) the little bastards are fast, ( 2 ) magic axes hurt, and ( 3 ) Bards are kinda handy to have around!

Droop wasn't too bad to have around either; he did a fantastic job of interpretation and even took a swipe or two in battle.  Spunky little guy!

We started the battle on our own terms but somehow we went from coordinated attack to flat out brawl.  If Zook hadn't kept the Ogre out of the fight until the end I am afraid the fight would have been the end!  Blood, fur, and body parts were flying, mostly mine.  I began my attack with a roaring pounce, biting and clawing for all I was worth.  I was quickly surrounded, however, and my awareness became limited to my desperate fight for survival.  I was drawing blood left and right but I just couldn't bring anything down, and all of the nicks and cuts began to take their toll.  And then the big guy with the axe stepped up for a swing, and it wasn't a miss.  That axe hurt like hell!

At some point in the battle I was aware of a hideous laughter emanating from what could only be the Ogre, and was grateful that Zook was able to entertain him.  I also remember seeing Virgil's flashing blade here and there, and hearing Droop call out translations.  But mostly I remember blood and pain and exhaustion.

No matter how much damage I dealt out The Axeman and friends dealt out more, and it wasn't long before I was forced out of my Wild Shape by a mighty axe blow which transformed me back and dealt me a great wound.  I had suffered enough embarrassment at the hands of the wolves during my failed watch a few days back, however, and I surged back into Tiger form with renewed determination to make up for that earlier failing.

The battle was long and bloody, and it took all of our reserves and no small amount of luck, but we eventually prevailed.  Even my ability to Wild Shape was exhausted, leaving me tired and bloody in my native form.  It has been a long while since last I was this grateful to sleep in a cave recently inhabited by Orcs and Ogres, but I was too exhausted to care.

Once we rest up it will be time to continue our journey...

Lost Mines of Phandelver - Elalanil's Report, Part 1

Yes, believe it or not, we're still playing D&D 5th Edition, though infrequently.  I was more than a little surprised and very pleased to receive an in-character recap from our last session.

Today I awoke from troubling dreams, dreams questioning my understanding of the very nature that I worship and swore to protect.  Questions... well, one question anyway... so profound it threatened to shake the earth and tear asunder the heavens!  A question for the prophets!  A question...

...for the Oak Lord himself.  Who else has the wisdom and knowledge necessary to answer this profound question, this riddle of the ages!  "What life is considered natural?"  I resolved to bend my entire intellect and will to solving this problem so that others could benefit from my scholarship.

In the meantime my companions and I gathered supplies and information, along with a comb and a request to find a book of some sort, and headed out to rid the world of abominations in the name of Rillifane Rallathil!  Although to be honest the others of my party do not seem all that impressed by The Wild One.  I must work on that.  They must be taught respect for The Sacred Wood!

While I am used to traveling long distances in a day, I am not used to doing it in the company of others.  Especially those who need so much sleep!  How do the other races bear such short lives being reduced even further by this daily hibernation?  It is uncomfortable to bear witness to.

Having said that, they are pleasant enough.  The Bard occasionally does something he considers music, which is entertaining.  To be perfectly fair, which I always strive to do, I must say he is rather good.  Fortunately he is not human, that might have caused me some level of strain to admit that about The Excitable People.

Along the way we came to our first destination, the home of a Banshee.  This unnatural place did not sit well with me, a feeling not improved by meeting her.  We traded the comb for a question, which my companions and I discussed briefly amongst ourselves before asking it.  Sadly we asked the wrong question and received a useless answer.  Personally I would have rather asked her how she had deserved such a fate, having once been a beautiful Elven woman.  What a tragic existence she now suffers.

One character flaw I have discovered in myself is that I think too much.  There are just so many mysteries in the natural world and I feel that I have been given this long life so that I can discover each and every key to each and every puzzle and solve them all.  Why else would I have been blessed with this longevity and intelligence?  And why else would I be beloved of The Leaflord, who personally chose me and left the mark of his hand on my Wild Shapes?

Perhaps this tendency to unravel the world's natural secrets explains how I was caught totally unaware when the wolves attacked our camp undetected while I was on watch.  Being intellectual has its downsides, apparently.

As the battle was joined I heard the screaming of my companions and knew shame like I have never known before, and deep anger ignited within me, a fire that could only be quenched by blood.  A fire that raged higher as I felt the fangs of my forest brothers tear into me as they challenged my right to live, a challenge answered by the tiger within.  Too late they realized their error as I tore into them, rending and tearing and reveling in the blood and gore.  The last of them fled into the night, but the blood price was not yet paid and his life was forfeit.

When it was over my shame began to replace the blood lust, and I dropped the last wolf's corpse at my companion’s feet in apology.  With nothing to say and much to make up for I remained in my animal form for as long as I could, hiding in the tiger's lack of human speech as much as using its strength to ensure my companions safety.  Some protector I have become.

But no sense in crying over spilled milk, as I once heard a human say.  Which has always confused me a bit, given the incessant crying humans are always doing over every little thing.  I suppose when one’s life is lived in the blink of an eye even the smallest ill must seem monumental tragedy.  It would certainly explain why they are so excitable.

As we continued our journey I felt an uneasiness, and called to a winged brother for information.  He told me that Old Owls Well was death, and that the only living thing was a humanoid in red.

Year 487

Sir Jayden

Winter of this 487th year of our Lord

Transcribed by Father Oswald

Combat is never easy. Every time the sword comes out of its sheath it sings death for either the man opposite of it or for the one who holds it. Fighting a single man can be a death sentence to other lesser men. Fighting two men at once would certainly be as if facing the Reaper himself, but fighting three men at once?  Who would have the stalwart heart and strength of arms to do such a thing? The answer to that question is I, Sir Jayden. While out on a search on behalf of King Uther, my party of fellow knights and myself were ambushed by dirty Saxon pagans. With great surprise they rushed from the cover of the tree line and attacked us.

Sadly, Sir Morah was knocked unconscious by the Saxon warriors that beset him and Sir Tristian took a great injury to his leg, yet still managed to dispatch his enemies. I, on the other hand, made quick work of the two Saxon warriors who were unlucky enough to meet me on the field of battle.

Seeing Sir Morah carried off into the woods by the enemy I had to make a snap decision to rescue him from their dirty hands and leave Sir Tristian to our squires. I rode my way to the enemy on horseback, but the forest was thick with trees. Because of this I was forced off my horse. With my horse no longer holding me back I was able to make good time on foot and caught up to the Saxons, it was then that I saw my predicament. There were three of them. I could not leave Sir Morah in their clutches, so I steeled my heart and joined battle with them.

With a quick yet strong slash downwards of my sword I was able to snap the battle axe of one of the Saxon warriors while also giving him a mortal wound, and as he lay on the ground I countered the attack from his partner killing him outright with a stab through the heart. The third Saxon upon seeing his fellows dispatched so quickly decided that he should join them in hell. He rushed me, screaming in his guttural language. Again I made quick work of my enemy, leaving him on the ground, quite dead. With the enemy dispatched I threw Sir Morah over my shoulder and made my way to where Sir Tristian and our Squires were. Afterwards we rode back to the City.

It was an exhilarating experience saving my friend from mortal peril.

Sir Morah

Sir Morah and his friends were once again summoned to court to attend the king. There was much feasting to be had and the presentation of Excalibur was to be done. Sir Morah, however, missed much of the activities because he was occupied with other endeavors. The morning after the feast the knights were given a choice to fight with the prince on raiding missions or go with the king and serve under him. They chose to go with the king and help rally support for him with the other kings.

They were sent on a mission to the north to a far ruling king to ask his attendance on behalf of King Uther. They set off to find him missing from the town and fighting off Saxons. They chose to go looking for him but found more trouble than the knights had bargained for. They were ambushed in the woods when they were following the trail of the army and Sir Morah was knocked out after slaying a man with one blow. When he came to they were back in town getting medical treatment for the others hadn’t fared that well in the fight either for only Sir Jayden remained capable to fight.

When the king returned they were quickly dismissed for he had no interest in seeing King Uther.

Sir Tristian

Thoughts for Year 487

This year appears to be a fantastic year, my land bodes well, bearing great harvests and the weather appears as fine as the most elegant silks. We are yet again summoned to Sarum at the behest of our lord, Earl Roderick, however this year an important guest appears before us, The Pendragon, King Uther himself! A great feast is held and our adventure for the great Merlin is told to the entire court, and Merlin himself appears and hands over the sword from the lake to the king, a sword named Excalibur apparently.

This year we had a choice for what our duty would be, some favor the King had asked our Lord to bestow upon us, to either accompany the King and Lord Roderick to the north, or go raiding with the Prince and lay waste to the Saxon navy. Though I personally would of preferred nothing more than to wet my blade with blood against the Saxons, my duty was clear, to protect my Lord and his Majesty, King Uther.

We rode north and more feasts were held, King Uther showed off Excalibur to the Lords of the north while we were tasked with traveling to Eburacum, on behalf of King Uther to invite the king to visit Uther in Lindsey. We arrived though to learn that he was away fighting the Saxons, as such we decided to journey to him instead of waiting for him in the city. However we were ambushed by the Saxon scum from the woods, and while I easily dispatched the Saxon filth in front of me, one struck my leg with a mighty blow, such luck the Saxon had, but short lived as he fell to my sword.

Despite my Injury, everything still went well, I made progress with the beautiful Lady Elaine, we talked, we danced and I even presented her a lovely brooch, fitted with a diamond that reflects the beauty of her eyes. However this is just the beginning of what I have planned for the one who I hold in my heart…..