Smoke swirls around a fire with meat roasting above it. A young girl sitting upon the lap of a shaman wearing beaded leathers asks, “Where does your glowing light come from?” as she points at a small sphere of light circling around his head. With a smile, he replies to her.
“The Dwarves long ago taught us this secret of the star-stones. Perhaps they can tell you more of it.” He then half-turns towards a stout figure who has appeared at the edge of the camp. Only the glint of the firelight off the figure’s eyes is visible.
A deep voice issues from the figure, “Indeed… it be the dark sight, also known as the ‘Mikrik Sokis’ in the tongue o’ my people. I ken be tellin’ you tha lore o’ it right enough.” He then steps closer into the firelight, drawing his hood back to reveal his brown hair and long braided beard. Sitting before the fire, he tears free a piece of meat from the spit then reaches into his pack and tosses a peach to the young girl before gesturing her closer.
She walks over, unafraid, and settles down in his lap. With a chuckle he eats the piece of meat before gazing into the sky and pointing at blazing white star upon the northern horizon. “Long ago, Kertigen crafted a fantastic topaz, as clear as a diamond. It was so brilliant that the light of his forge was caught and purified from its ruddy glare to a bright yellow light. There it glowed for many a year, absorbing and casting out the light.”
“One day, he decided to see what else this gem could do. So he took it out into the skies, and let it absorb the sun’s light. He then returned to his forge and forgot about it. That eve, he heard a commotion and stepped outside to see what it could be. To his surprise, the gem was floating above the ground, and glowing as pure a white as Berengaria’s soul. However, its light soon faded.”
“Pondering this, Kertigen returned to his forge, where he crafted a marvelous silver chain and a peg of gold so pure it was white. He then returned to the gem, only to find that Katamaba’s shadow had caused them gem to go completely black. Muttering, he set aside the chain and peg and went to bed.”
“Well, he had hardly put his head down upon his pillow, before one of his ravens let out a mighty ruckus. Cursing, he stepped outside to see the topaz clutched in its beak, but the raven could not let go. With a swift movement, Kertigen’s hand flashed out and snatched the darkened stone from its beak. As he held it out to the side the light of Xibar and Yavash flowed into the gem, combining to produce a pure light white, similar to what happened when the sun’s rays struck it.”
The girl grins widely at this, her chin covered in juice from the peach.
“Not wanting to lose the light, he quickly took up the peg and chain, and flew into the heavens. There, along the northern horizon he attached the gem. However, he placed to so high in his joy at finding the light again, that it is only visible during the nights after the sun has been long and high in the sky.” The dwarf’s voice fades as he finishes the tale, winking at the shaman.
Frowning, the girl looks up at the dwarf, “But you didn’t say how the stone thing makes light!”
“Right you are lass.” He then chuckles heartily, “Jest makin’ sure you be payin’ attention.”
“Now, long ago in the ancient dwarven fortress of High Hold, dwarves mined the mountains for their wealth, using torches to light the way. In a peaceful time between conflicts, some degree of trade occurred between the Albarians in the distant south, and my peoples in the Hiimarhand Shel. Through this they came into contact with several astrologers who taught them new techniques for scribing astrological symbols onto items.”
“One day, a promising young dwarf, recalled the story of the topaz, and embarked upon the task of seeing if she could replicate to some extent what Kertigen had done. This was not in pride, but in honor to what he had done. The task took her the lifetimes of many humans to complete, some two hundred years.”
“However, it resulted in a topaz that could shed light in dark places, created almost entirely in the same manner as Kertigen’s accidental creation had done. First, a suitable topaz was selected and prepared. Then the symbol of the Shardstar was scribed upon it, allowing it to change light like Kertigen’s gem had. Then it had the sigil of the sun scribed upon it then empowered with magic so it could absorb and hold light. A mage then focuses light into the gem until it is so full of energy that not one more iota can be poured into it.”
“Finally, in order to seal the light in, the dark moon is scribed upon the gem and sealed into place. This then holds the light until it is ready to be used. When the user is ready, they merely have to raise the sokis into the air, and the bindings of Katamba fill fade, allowing the light to pour out. The gem will then follow whoever raised it until its energies are snuffed and the gem fails, the light spent.”
Looking down, the girl has fallen asleep. With a gentle smile, the dwarf picks her up and carries her to a tent where he settles her amongst the furs. Returning to the shaman, he nods before resting a hand upon his shoulder and walking back into the night.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Friday, May 29, 2009
Tales from the Windswept Peaks: Bones
Sitting next to the dying embers of a fire, a young nomad carefully cleans the last gore from a set of boar tusks. He then sets them aside and grabs a burin, delicately carved from an oak limb and set with a small topaz.
Tilting his head back, his eyes stare into the sky for several minutes, observing the constellations. He then looks down, and picks up the bones, his eyes closed as the chants softly under this breath. Slowly red lines form over the tusks with the passage of the burin, forming lines of some significance across their length.
At last, the nomad is finished, and he sets down the burin in place of a slightly curved bladed knife. For hours his hands move over the tusks, whittling away the material as the chant continues under his breath. The magic guiding his hands has taken the place of the firelight, the embers now cooled to darkness. Grey shadows stretch as the false dawn starts.
Finishing his task, slender curls of white and brown showered across his leggings and boots, he reverently sets aside the blade. Rubbing his thumb over each of the four pieces, he gives a brief nod before filling a small clay plate with some white liquid, which he gently rolls the bones in, some of the last remaining red symbols flaring briefly before disappearing. Taking an identical plate, he pours black liquid into it, repeating the process, and causing the last of the symbols to flare before fading. Two bottles are filled with the leftover liquids, and then the nomad rises.
Turning to the west, the half-crescent of xibar is still faintly visible. Once again taking up his burin, he studies the moon intently before rapidly scribing each of the many sides of an almost spherical bone. Over an hour is taken, one sigil slowly flaring to life at a time, this process repeated sixty three times.
Xibar has set by now, and the warm reds of the summer morning start brining color to the surrounding steppe. The nomad unsheathes a slender knife crafted from bone from its strap on his thigh. Below it a bloodstained bandage is visible, the cloth as of yet unstained from daily wear. Holding the bones high, the knife flashes quickly, and a single line of blood forms from a shallow cut on his hand. Clenching his hand tightly for a moment, the bones held tight in his grip, the nomad mutters a quick prayer to his ancestors and spirits of the gods. The knife is returned to its binding, and he then opens his hand as he kneels down to the short grasses.
The cut upon his hand is gone and there is no evidence of blood as he reverently casts the bones along the ground. For a brief moment, the nearly spherical bone is highlighted as a blue flash in the symbol of a star is shown. His head bowed, the nomad offers thanks to the spirit of the fallen boar, before collecting the bones and placing them in a soft leather pouch at his hip.
Tilting his head back, his eyes stare into the sky for several minutes, observing the constellations. He then looks down, and picks up the bones, his eyes closed as the chants softly under this breath. Slowly red lines form over the tusks with the passage of the burin, forming lines of some significance across their length.
At last, the nomad is finished, and he sets down the burin in place of a slightly curved bladed knife. For hours his hands move over the tusks, whittling away the material as the chant continues under his breath. The magic guiding his hands has taken the place of the firelight, the embers now cooled to darkness. Grey shadows stretch as the false dawn starts.
Finishing his task, slender curls of white and brown showered across his leggings and boots, he reverently sets aside the blade. Rubbing his thumb over each of the four pieces, he gives a brief nod before filling a small clay plate with some white liquid, which he gently rolls the bones in, some of the last remaining red symbols flaring briefly before disappearing. Taking an identical plate, he pours black liquid into it, repeating the process, and causing the last of the symbols to flare before fading. Two bottles are filled with the leftover liquids, and then the nomad rises.
Turning to the west, the half-crescent of xibar is still faintly visible. Once again taking up his burin, he studies the moon intently before rapidly scribing each of the many sides of an almost spherical bone. Over an hour is taken, one sigil slowly flaring to life at a time, this process repeated sixty three times.
Xibar has set by now, and the warm reds of the summer morning start brining color to the surrounding steppe. The nomad unsheathes a slender knife crafted from bone from its strap on his thigh. Below it a bloodstained bandage is visible, the cloth as of yet unstained from daily wear. Holding the bones high, the knife flashes quickly, and a single line of blood forms from a shallow cut on his hand. Clenching his hand tightly for a moment, the bones held tight in his grip, the nomad mutters a quick prayer to his ancestors and spirits of the gods. The knife is returned to its binding, and he then opens his hand as he kneels down to the short grasses.
The cut upon his hand is gone and there is no evidence of blood as he reverently casts the bones along the ground. For a brief moment, the nearly spherical bone is highlighted as a blue flash in the symbol of a star is shown. His head bowed, the nomad offers thanks to the spirit of the fallen boar, before collecting the bones and placing them in a soft leather pouch at his hip.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Tales from the Windswept Peaks: Observations
To the readers of the Tales, I will now introduce myself, and tell you a bit more about the Tales. I am Kraggur Kveldcharn, a scholar of the Moon Mage guild. For several years now I have followed the Nomads of the Arid Steppe, living their ways, following both their seers and their normal people.
The Tales are glimpses into moments I have witnessed or been told about in the lives of Nomads. Unlike the other so called “sects”, the Nomads are not a body of magicians, but an entire nation of individuals. To call the Nomads Moon Mages makes as much sense as calling the inhabitants of Riverhaven or Shard Moon Mages. The difference is that many of the leaders, oracles, and soothsayers are able to seek the future through their various methods. Many fall into the category of Skindancers, who seek the probabilities through the cast of rune-inscribed bones, or through spirit journeys conducted in their yurts. Others practice darker arts more akin to necromantic practices and are considered insane – the Bonedancers.
As such, the seers of the Tribes are drawn in three distinct ways. The first is toward their individual tribe. These range from the Bensu to the Windwalkers, and for more information I will refer the reader to the Trabe Plateau, where Guildleader Cherulisa and the nomad in the yurt will be glad to answer questions about the tribes. Even though centuries have passed since the unification of the Tribes, these identities have not died. They are aspects which contribute to the whole that no longer endlessly war as they did before the coming of Kir Dor’na’torna.
The second is as the Nomads of the Arid Steppe. Within this are their roles as advisors and leaders to the nation that wanders the high plains and mountains west of Hibarnhvidar. This separates them from the other sects, which are groups of lunar magicians working towards their similar ends. It is this role, and their distance from Throne City and the usual machinations of the residents of the “civilized” lands which gives them pause in their allegiance to the guild.
Third are the bonds that tie them to the Moon Mage Guild. It is undeniable that Kir’s actions greatly benefited the Nomads. These ties are loose, for the Nomads defy single leadership as they are nomadic. Sect members wander Kermoria, and likely other places abroad, yet as a whole entity, they comprise a sizeable enough contingent of the Guild that they cannot be overly coerced.
Guildleader Cherulisa spans the gap between the second and third areas. She was a member of the Council before she resigned to take residence in the crystal spire atop the Plateau and breaking the second Kir’s influence over the Tribes. As such she is painfully aware of how many nomads feel about the role of the guild and its attempts to steer the Nomads.
Returning now to the Tales, I will leave it to the reader to discern which I have been told, and which I have witnessed myself. I hope that these writings may inspire others to look into the histories of their own guild and attempt to discern the lore and actions of their members.
Signed by my hand,
Kraggur Kveldchar,
187th day of the 394th Year AV
The Tales are glimpses into moments I have witnessed or been told about in the lives of Nomads. Unlike the other so called “sects”, the Nomads are not a body of magicians, but an entire nation of individuals. To call the Nomads Moon Mages makes as much sense as calling the inhabitants of Riverhaven or Shard Moon Mages. The difference is that many of the leaders, oracles, and soothsayers are able to seek the future through their various methods. Many fall into the category of Skindancers, who seek the probabilities through the cast of rune-inscribed bones, or through spirit journeys conducted in their yurts. Others practice darker arts more akin to necromantic practices and are considered insane – the Bonedancers.
As such, the seers of the Tribes are drawn in three distinct ways. The first is toward their individual tribe. These range from the Bensu to the Windwalkers, and for more information I will refer the reader to the Trabe Plateau, where Guildleader Cherulisa and the nomad in the yurt will be glad to answer questions about the tribes. Even though centuries have passed since the unification of the Tribes, these identities have not died. They are aspects which contribute to the whole that no longer endlessly war as they did before the coming of Kir Dor’na’torna.
The second is as the Nomads of the Arid Steppe. Within this are their roles as advisors and leaders to the nation that wanders the high plains and mountains west of Hibarnhvidar. This separates them from the other sects, which are groups of lunar magicians working towards their similar ends. It is this role, and their distance from Throne City and the usual machinations of the residents of the “civilized” lands which gives them pause in their allegiance to the guild.
Third are the bonds that tie them to the Moon Mage Guild. It is undeniable that Kir’s actions greatly benefited the Nomads. These ties are loose, for the Nomads defy single leadership as they are nomadic. Sect members wander Kermoria, and likely other places abroad, yet as a whole entity, they comprise a sizeable enough contingent of the Guild that they cannot be overly coerced.
Guildleader Cherulisa spans the gap between the second and third areas. She was a member of the Council before she resigned to take residence in the crystal spire atop the Plateau and breaking the second Kir’s influence over the Tribes. As such she is painfully aware of how many nomads feel about the role of the guild and its attempts to steer the Nomads.
Returning now to the Tales, I will leave it to the reader to discern which I have been told, and which I have witnessed myself. I hope that these writings may inspire others to look into the histories of their own guild and attempt to discern the lore and actions of their members.
Signed by my hand,
Kraggur Kveldchar,
187th day of the 394th Year AV
Monday, May 18, 2009
Spring in Forfedhdar
Spring, 394AV
I sit in an armed camp amongst the western end of the Journelai Shel, watching the road between Kwarlog and Hibarnhvidar. Trade between the cities has evolved into armed caravans bearing supplies from the north towards Hibarnhvidar. The best I can tell is that Kwarlog has avoided the worst of the attacks so far. Perhaps the indominable snow-clad might of Asketi's Mount and the Monastery near the road is enough to keep the undead generally driven back.
While the dwarves have many hidden routes to make sure material and men reach Raven's Point and Ain Ghazal, the major roads to the east lie clogged with hordes of undead. Repeated attempts to purge them from the shoulders of the Himineldar have been met with limited success, and even Hibarnhvidar's gates have been briefly overrun at times. They must have found some ancient unguarded seam of rock to traverse, or their arts let them establish gates and threaten the city itself.
Business with the western nomads and the Dabru on Ratha have kept me away from the city for a length of time now. I heard the foul Olvi Tachid led a recent assault that led to great casualties amongst the defenders before the undead were driven out from the halls. It is not certain yet if Inner Hibarnhvidar was breached yet or not, yet I have heard that Grutan donned his plate and entered the fray as well. If only I had the opportunity to see him fight in person!
However, it is good that I have heard that the defenders of Ilithi came to our aid as well. Our aid to their city nearly a year past now is being returned, and I hope closer affairs between the two lands will be possible. Even in peaceful times, both lands must guard against the Dragon Priest threat, as those dwelling within the walls of Raven's Point as well aware.
Another storm is brewing from the mountains, so I must draw this to a close, but I will also add that my meetings with the Nadamian family went well. Several shipments of arms and armor are on their way from the isles, as well as bundles of healing herbs. While it might not be a major help in the grand scheme of things, it will aid those who they can reach. A definitive date for their arrival has not yet been set, but I believe it should arrive by summer.
Signed by my hand,
Kraggur Kveldcharn
I sit in an armed camp amongst the western end of the Journelai Shel, watching the road between Kwarlog and Hibarnhvidar. Trade between the cities has evolved into armed caravans bearing supplies from the north towards Hibarnhvidar. The best I can tell is that Kwarlog has avoided the worst of the attacks so far. Perhaps the indominable snow-clad might of Asketi's Mount and the Monastery near the road is enough to keep the undead generally driven back.
While the dwarves have many hidden routes to make sure material and men reach Raven's Point and Ain Ghazal, the major roads to the east lie clogged with hordes of undead. Repeated attempts to purge them from the shoulders of the Himineldar have been met with limited success, and even Hibarnhvidar's gates have been briefly overrun at times. They must have found some ancient unguarded seam of rock to traverse, or their arts let them establish gates and threaten the city itself.
Business with the western nomads and the Dabru on Ratha have kept me away from the city for a length of time now. I heard the foul Olvi Tachid led a recent assault that led to great casualties amongst the defenders before the undead were driven out from the halls. It is not certain yet if Inner Hibarnhvidar was breached yet or not, yet I have heard that Grutan donned his plate and entered the fray as well. If only I had the opportunity to see him fight in person!
However, it is good that I have heard that the defenders of Ilithi came to our aid as well. Our aid to their city nearly a year past now is being returned, and I hope closer affairs between the two lands will be possible. Even in peaceful times, both lands must guard against the Dragon Priest threat, as those dwelling within the walls of Raven's Point as well aware.
Another storm is brewing from the mountains, so I must draw this to a close, but I will also add that my meetings with the Nadamian family went well. Several shipments of arms and armor are on their way from the isles, as well as bundles of healing herbs. While it might not be a major help in the grand scheme of things, it will aid those who they can reach. A definitive date for their arrival has not yet been set, but I believe it should arrive by summer.
Signed by my hand,
Kraggur Kveldcharn
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Tales from the Windswept Peaks: Soul
Icy winter winds still blast the mountain peaks as a nomad struggles to ascend a mountain. Below her, along the steep-sided valley, lie the tents of her people, and even farther below are the herds of her tribe.
Struggling, she slips and falls for several yards before precariously catching herself and resuming the climb. Gradually, she reaches the peak, her hair covered with dirt and sweat, blood flowing freely from cuts and scratches.
The tassels on her leathers are whipped to knots as she turns her head to the heavens and shrieks a clarion call as piercing as a hawk’s cry. From the other side of the peak, appearing from thin air, a stout figure wrapped in a fine robe steps next to her, the glint of chainmail appearing from under the collar. Reaching into a sack, the figure draws a finely crafted metal knife which she takes.
Grabbing the nape of her hair, she sharply draws the knife, cutting loose her braid of hair. Loose blond strands snap free in the wind, and her shorter hair now whips around her face. Swiftly she bends and ties the cut braid to a pole set at the summit. Along side that she lays a bracelet woven from mountain flowers. With fierce pride she cries out again before sitting down and closing her eyes, and bearing her left shoulder.
The figure shrugs its shoulders in a wry manner, indicating that it is pleased before crouching next to her. Swiftly implements appear on the ground next to her, and the figure begins its work. Blood soaks into the folder leather at her shoulder as the figure works, gnarled fingers and hands steady despite the shifting winds.
At length the task is done, and the figure collects its tools and then disappears in a flow of black shadows. The woman stirs, and then draws her leathers up again, before slowly descending the mountain. Yet the tattoo becomes briefly visible, a golden eagle with its wings stretching down her arm and up her neck, with the pinion feathers just brushing her left eye socket.
Struggling, she slips and falls for several yards before precariously catching herself and resuming the climb. Gradually, she reaches the peak, her hair covered with dirt and sweat, blood flowing freely from cuts and scratches.
The tassels on her leathers are whipped to knots as she turns her head to the heavens and shrieks a clarion call as piercing as a hawk’s cry. From the other side of the peak, appearing from thin air, a stout figure wrapped in a fine robe steps next to her, the glint of chainmail appearing from under the collar. Reaching into a sack, the figure draws a finely crafted metal knife which she takes.
Grabbing the nape of her hair, she sharply draws the knife, cutting loose her braid of hair. Loose blond strands snap free in the wind, and her shorter hair now whips around her face. Swiftly she bends and ties the cut braid to a pole set at the summit. Along side that she lays a bracelet woven from mountain flowers. With fierce pride she cries out again before sitting down and closing her eyes, and bearing her left shoulder.
The figure shrugs its shoulders in a wry manner, indicating that it is pleased before crouching next to her. Swiftly implements appear on the ground next to her, and the figure begins its work. Blood soaks into the folder leather at her shoulder as the figure works, gnarled fingers and hands steady despite the shifting winds.
At length the task is done, and the figure collects its tools and then disappears in a flow of black shadows. The woman stirs, and then draws her leathers up again, before slowly descending the mountain. Yet the tattoo becomes briefly visible, a golden eagle with its wings stretching down her arm and up her neck, with the pinion feathers just brushing her left eye socket.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Tales from the Windswept Peaks: Beacon
An ancient crone stops suddenly in midstride before falling to the ground clutching her head. Hurriedly, the other nearby nomads run and delicately lift her, bearing her to her tent. She lays there whimpering as healers are swiftly summoned. Days pass and none of the normal remedies work. Finally, seeing no other recourse, the nomads seek aid from the seers.
The seers quickly take her to the highest peak near where this section of the mountains where the tribe is camped. There she is laid upon the finest wolf furs at hand, while they weave their magic upon her. One stands aloof, his face held to the wind, seeking the omens carried upon the howling winds.
Suddenly a hand shoots forward from within his robe, deeply scarred and worn from the years. The actions around the crone stop immediately.
“She sensed the beacon shining from far in the east. I too sense it as a challenge to rival the very heavens. It is laden with the prayers of all the gods, and has no place within the cosmos as we understand it. The shrieks of countless souls fill the crone’s second sight, blinding her to our world.”
He quickly incants a spell, and suddenly the crone’s body relaxes. He motions for the nomads to carry her back to her tent.
“That should allow her to regain control over her second sight.”
Raising the hood of his robe, he then sits, back to the group and loses himself in meditation.
The seers quickly take her to the highest peak near where this section of the mountains where the tribe is camped. There she is laid upon the finest wolf furs at hand, while they weave their magic upon her. One stands aloof, his face held to the wind, seeking the omens carried upon the howling winds.
Suddenly a hand shoots forward from within his robe, deeply scarred and worn from the years. The actions around the crone stop immediately.
“She sensed the beacon shining from far in the east. I too sense it as a challenge to rival the very heavens. It is laden with the prayers of all the gods, and has no place within the cosmos as we understand it. The shrieks of countless souls fill the crone’s second sight, blinding her to our world.”
He quickly incants a spell, and suddenly the crone’s body relaxes. He motions for the nomads to carry her back to her tent.
“That should allow her to regain control over her second sight.”
Raising the hood of his robe, he then sits, back to the group and loses himself in meditation.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Tales from the Windswept Peaks: The Pillar
The wind howls and screams outside of a hollow cave in the mountainside. Around a fire sit several nomads while a few guard dogs bask sleeping in the comforting heat. Snow drifts are piled on either side of the trail running past the cave mouth except where the winds have blown it clear.
As one, the nomads start a drifting chant which focuses the mind then lets it float free. In the back of the cave a young nomad stiffens, her face exhibiting an image of sheer horror before it relaxes to a state of resigned unhappiness. Slowly she speaks of what she sees:
“There is torment as freedom is bound in our image and name… a fragment of the heavens locking in an ancestor’s soul in name. He screams for he has become bound, yet by binding him, he in turn binds the heavens. The shard has shifted and is now part of us.”
As one, the nomads start a drifting chant which focuses the mind then lets it float free. In the back of the cave a young nomad stiffens, her face exhibiting an image of sheer horror before it relaxes to a state of resigned unhappiness. Slowly she speaks of what she sees:
“There is torment as freedom is bound in our image and name… a fragment of the heavens locking in an ancestor’s soul in name. He screams for he has become bound, yet by binding him, he in turn binds the heavens. The shard has shifted and is now part of us.”
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Tales from the Windsept Peaks: Scout
Clinging to the side of the Hag’s Crag, a young nomad ascends the face of the mount, snow and wind threatening to dislodge her. A courier's case is bound tightly at her waist.
Above the battlements of the Raven’s Gate a figure wearing hides crafted from firecat pelts fires arrows into a mass of shambling creatures darkening the park east of the city.
Leathers torn almost to shreds, another nomad fights, then dies under a royal blue flag flying a black tower under a golden seven-pointed star.
Carrying a thick pack stuffed with cotton, an older nomad wanders the back roads before crossing a bridge to the south of a tall crystal tower. He carefully unloads the pack, gently stacking vials of naphtha in a crate that was nearly depleted.
Far from all these scenes, a withered crone steps back from a basin filled with water which gradually clouds over. She shakes her head sadly, yet a grim smile rides upon her face.
Above the battlements of the Raven’s Gate a figure wearing hides crafted from firecat pelts fires arrows into a mass of shambling creatures darkening the park east of the city.
Leathers torn almost to shreds, another nomad fights, then dies under a royal blue flag flying a black tower under a golden seven-pointed star.
Carrying a thick pack stuffed with cotton, an older nomad wanders the back roads before crossing a bridge to the south of a tall crystal tower. He carefully unloads the pack, gently stacking vials of naphtha in a crate that was nearly depleted.
Far from all these scenes, a withered crone steps back from a basin filled with water which gradually clouds over. She shakes her head sadly, yet a grim smile rides upon her face.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Tales from the Windswept Peaks: Healing
Bitter winds swirl across the mountain range, yet for now the snows have stopped. The screams of a few wounded come from the yurts carefully arranged on a broad shelf. A bearded nomad stands slightly to the side, looking down at the encampment.
A wise woman steps from the closest yurt, her leathers covered in blood up to the elbows, as well as down the front of an apron overflowing with bandages and herbs. The bearded nomad walks towards the wise woman.
"It is good we did not march to the lowlands, or that the walking dead did not come farther north. But it is also good that we send aid to the dwarves, for they have upheld their deals with us."
A series of flashes occur as a handful of nomads appear, some carrying others, about half of them wounded. They move into the tents. Shaking her head sadly, the wise woman replies over her shoulder as she turns to heads back toward the yurt.
“Death stalks us still though. None of the young have died yet, but the injuries keep coming. You know we are too few to survive if many die. Would you have the line die out completely to uphold our agreements?”
Touching a heavy onyx amulet that rests around his neck, bearing the sigils of the wolf, nightingale, and raven, the bearded nomad nods once without hesitation.
“Yes. Without honor and memory we are as nothing. Would you have us become as the Bonedancers?”
Quick as a striking snake, the wise woman spins and slaps the bearded nomad across the face.
“Never mention that tribe again. They are as nothing. They listen not to the wind, only the dead silence in their hearts.”
A wise woman steps from the closest yurt, her leathers covered in blood up to the elbows, as well as down the front of an apron overflowing with bandages and herbs. The bearded nomad walks towards the wise woman.
"It is good we did not march to the lowlands, or that the walking dead did not come farther north. But it is also good that we send aid to the dwarves, for they have upheld their deals with us."
A series of flashes occur as a handful of nomads appear, some carrying others, about half of them wounded. They move into the tents. Shaking her head sadly, the wise woman replies over her shoulder as she turns to heads back toward the yurt.
“Death stalks us still though. None of the young have died yet, but the injuries keep coming. You know we are too few to survive if many die. Would you have the line die out completely to uphold our agreements?”
Touching a heavy onyx amulet that rests around his neck, bearing the sigils of the wolf, nightingale, and raven, the bearded nomad nods once without hesitation.
“Yes. Without honor and memory we are as nothing. Would you have us become as the Bonedancers?”
Quick as a striking snake, the wise woman spins and slaps the bearded nomad across the face.
“Never mention that tribe again. They are as nothing. They listen not to the wind, only the dead silence in their hearts.”
Monday, April 13, 2009
Tales from the Windswept Peaks: Y'Shai
In two brief flashes of a black void, two nomads appear on a ledge overlooking the Trabe Plateau, which lies to the distant east. A harsh wind swirls snow around them, and settles in the elegant beard of the older nomad.
The older nomad says, "One of the soulless guardians has appeared on the Plateau. The winds have said such to me. They whisper that it is related to the stench of darkness that comes from the lands where the sun sets."
"Our mountains will likely protect us. What of the unliving cares for our mountains? Yet several of us have walked the winds to Forfedhdar to help them face this threat. Too well do we remember the days of darkness and the false Kir."
The younger nomad figets and looks nervous.
"What if they do come up here? What will we do then?"
"Do what we have always done - survive."
The older nomad says, "One of the soulless guardians has appeared on the Plateau. The winds have said such to me. They whisper that it is related to the stench of darkness that comes from the lands where the sun sets."
"Our mountains will likely protect us. What of the unliving cares for our mountains? Yet several of us have walked the winds to Forfedhdar to help them face this threat. Too well do we remember the days of darkness and the false Kir."
The younger nomad figets and looks nervous.
"What if they do come up here? What will we do then?"
"Do what we have always done - survive."
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Tales from the Windswept Peaks: Turning Years
A nomad clad in a bronze scaled outfit designed as a wyvern dances slowly upon a mountaintop.
Around him, precariously balanced, other nomads play a haunting tune on bone flutes.
The wind rises and falls, at times overpowering the flutes, but they only serve to play off each other in harmony.
Slowly the nomad's voice is heard chanting louder and louder in the tongue of the Windwalkers.
>>Seasons come and change, let the Wyvern die it is its time. Scales come to rest and the panther rises to hunt.
The wyvern-nomad then sits down, and is revealed holding a drum as he lets then outfit fall from his shoulders. A rapid rhythm arises from the drum, and the flute players disappear in flashes of red and black only to be replaced by other drummers in similar flashes of light.
A crescendo builds then comes to a thunderous silence.
As a female nomad appears, in a flash of black light, clad as a golden panther, the drummers bow then vanish.
She slinks toward a small altar scattered with runes. Pulling a knife from within the skins, she cuts across her palm and lets her blood fall before the altar before swiftly binding the cut with a clean strip of cloth. Taking the runes in her other hand, she then kneels, her face turned to the sky, observing the stars in their patterns.
Minutes pass by before the wind seems to whisper, now! and she casts the runes.
Studying them for a moment, she then stands and returns to the center of the mountaintop. Slowly, the figures reappear: first the wyvern-nomad, then the flutists, and lastly the drummers. They all kneel before the panther-nomad.
>>The omens for the year are as dark as the tainted winds that reach us. Yet, the golden panther shall hunt, and not be the hunted.
Around him, precariously balanced, other nomads play a haunting tune on bone flutes.
The wind rises and falls, at times overpowering the flutes, but they only serve to play off each other in harmony.
Slowly the nomad's voice is heard chanting louder and louder in the tongue of the Windwalkers.
>>Seasons come and change, let the Wyvern die it is its time. Scales come to rest and the panther rises to hunt.
The wyvern-nomad then sits down, and is revealed holding a drum as he lets then outfit fall from his shoulders. A rapid rhythm arises from the drum, and the flute players disappear in flashes of red and black only to be replaced by other drummers in similar flashes of light.
A crescendo builds then comes to a thunderous silence.
As a female nomad appears, in a flash of black light, clad as a golden panther, the drummers bow then vanish.
She slinks toward a small altar scattered with runes. Pulling a knife from within the skins, she cuts across her palm and lets her blood fall before the altar before swiftly binding the cut with a clean strip of cloth. Taking the runes in her other hand, she then kneels, her face turned to the sky, observing the stars in their patterns.
Minutes pass by before the wind seems to whisper, now! and she casts the runes.
Studying them for a moment, she then stands and returns to the center of the mountaintop. Slowly, the figures reappear: first the wyvern-nomad, then the flutists, and lastly the drummers. They all kneel before the panther-nomad.
>>The omens for the year are as dark as the tainted winds that reach us. Yet, the golden panther shall hunt, and not be the hunted.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Titles aiming for in the "near" future
Titles hoping to get by the end of May
Furrier
At least 100 in Skinning
At least 75 in Appraisal
Rappeller
At least 175 in Climbing
Gymnast
At least 200 in Evasion
At least 30 in Agility
Toxicologist
At least 200 ranks in Mechanical Lore
At least 150 ranks in First Aid
Academian
At least 250 ranks in Scholarship
At least 250 ranks in Teaching
At least ? points in Intelligence
At least ? points in Wisdom
Professor
At least 250 ranks in Teaching
At least 200 ranks in Scholarship
Crusher
At least 150 ranks in Highest Blunt skill
Edge
At least 150 ranks in Highest Edged skill
Blade Thrower
At least 80 ranks in Light Thrown Weapons
Hurler
At least 75 ranks in Heavy Thrown Weapons
Pikeman
At least 100 ranks in Pikes
Safeguard
At least 60 ranks in Shield Usage
At least 90 ranks in Parry Ability
At least 140 ranks in Highest Armor skill
At least 60 ranks in Multiple Engaged Opponent
Prophet
At least 300 ranks in Astrology
Must have performed a specific number of Predictions
Lunarian
At least 300 in Astrology
At least 500 in Power Perception
Armsman
At least 100 in 3rd Highest Weapon
Furrier
Rappeller
At least 175 in Climbing
Gymnast
At least 200 in Evasion
Toxicologist
At least 200 ranks in Mechanical Lore
Academian
At least ? points in Intelligence
At least ? points in Wisdom
Professor
Crusher
At least 150 ranks in Highest Blunt skill
Edge
At least 150 ranks in Highest Edged skill
Blade Thrower
At least 80 ranks in Light Thrown Weapons
Hurler
At least 75 ranks in Heavy Thrown Weapons
Pikeman
At least 100 ranks in Pikes
Safeguard
At least 90 ranks in Parry Ability
At least 140 ranks in Highest Armor skill
Prophet
At least 300 ranks in Astrology
Must have performed a specific number of Predictions
Lunarian
At least 300 in Astrology
At least 500 in Power Perception
Armsman
At least 100 in 3rd Highest Weapon
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
The Pillar of Kraggur
Six aspects are carved into the granite pillar.
The name “Kraggur” is carved into the base of the pillar as the first aspect, with “Kraggath-mag, Kreggath-mag, Kreggur-mag” cut underneath it.
Above the name is a raven circling a mountain peak, the sun rising high above it, forming the second aspect
The third aspect is the lunar symbol for the evening star. The carving is fairly primitive, but a more sophisticated image of a nightingale has been added, the evening star serving as its eye.
A blank spot has been left for the fourth aspect.
Fifth is an intricately carved open book, resting atop a pile of scrolls.
The sixth, and final aspect, is a raven, symbolized in three ways: first is a carving of a raven; second are holes drilled forming the constellation of the raven; third is the lunar sigil for the raven.
The name “Kraggur” is carved into the base of the pillar as the first aspect, with “Kraggath-mag, Kreggath-mag, Kreggur-mag” cut underneath it.
Above the name is a raven circling a mountain peak, the sun rising high above it, forming the second aspect
The third aspect is the lunar symbol for the evening star. The carving is fairly primitive, but a more sophisticated image of a nightingale has been added, the evening star serving as its eye.
A blank spot has been left for the fourth aspect.
Fifth is an intricately carved open book, resting atop a pile of scrolls.
The sixth, and final aspect, is a raven, symbolized in three ways: first is a carving of a raven; second are holes drilled forming the constellation of the raven; third is the lunar sigil for the raven.
Tales from the Windswept Peaks: Undead Walking
Precariously perched on a ledge in the mountains bordering the Arid Steppe to the west crouches a nomad. The hides worn are decorated with a multitude of bird feathers, flapping wildly in the winds that roar along the mountainside.
With a fading blue flash, a second figure appears next to the nomad, also clad in feather-decorated hides.
The winds whisper and bring the smell of decay upon them. Such as has not been scented since the false Kir strode the Steppes.
The first nomad turns his head slightly towards the newcomer, apparently unperturbed by his arrival.
It is as the winds have long whispered, since the foreigners first stepped past our lands. Much good and much evil came from their arrival, though they left tasks unfinished. But it is as the Winds of Fate dictate. We can do no more and no less. Time still flows though increasingly short.
Turning to face the wind, the first nomad’s mouth moves for a moment before he disappears in a blue flash similar to the second nomad’s arrival.
With a fading blue flash, a second figure appears next to the nomad, also clad in feather-decorated hides.
The winds whisper and bring the smell of decay upon them. Such as has not been scented since the false Kir strode the Steppes.
The first nomad turns his head slightly towards the newcomer, apparently unperturbed by his arrival.
It is as the winds have long whispered, since the foreigners first stepped past our lands. Much good and much evil came from their arrival, though they left tasks unfinished. But it is as the Winds of Fate dictate. We can do no more and no less. Time still flows though increasingly short.
Turning to face the wind, the first nomad’s mouth moves for a moment before he disappears in a blue flash similar to the second nomad’s arrival.
Tales from the Windswept Peaks
These tales are from the Windwalker sect of the Nomads of the Arid Steppe, and will attempt to give a perspective on things from their view.
~Kraggur
~Kraggur
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Winter Draws Tight
10th Month, 393 AV, Year of the Bronze Wyvern
I sit now with cloak drawn tightly around me. The snows begin to descent now upon the mountains which are growing whiter by the day. Here outside of Boar Clan, where my patrol runs north and south from, I can see the mountain when the clouds lift, which is rare these days. However, I am given hope that while Lyras' armies begin to draw closer, the snows of winter will slow even their passage.
For now though, it is quiet and peaceful.
I sit now with cloak drawn tightly around me. The snows begin to descent now upon the mountains which are growing whiter by the day. Here outside of Boar Clan, where my patrol runs north and south from, I can see the mountain when the clouds lift, which is rare these days. However, I am given hope that while Lyras' armies begin to draw closer, the snows of winter will slow even their passage.
For now though, it is quiet and peaceful.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Council Moves
26th Day, Dolefaren the Brigantine, 393 AV, Year of the Bronze Wyvern
<
Well, it is now done. The Citizen's Council of Forfedhdar has taken their first true action. Vansiil, Rieum and myself have called for volunteers to patrol the roads north and west of Hibarnhvidar to watch for any undead incursions by Lyras' hordes. We have established routes, times, and locations. Hopefully now volunteers will come.
I find this work exhausting yet rewarding. If one life of an inhabitant of Forfedhdar can be saved this is all time well spent. Let the other lands run around or march their orderly marches, we will prove that the dwarves are a force to be reckoned with.
We have a relay system that can spread word quickly from as far north as the old Monastery to Hibarnhvidar and west along the Great Salt Road, and even to Horse Clan if someone's mind is open and listening.
It is only the beginning, but it is a start.
~Kraggur
<
Well, it is now done. The Citizen's Council of Forfedhdar has taken their first true action. Vansiil, Rieum and myself have called for volunteers to patrol the roads north and west of Hibarnhvidar to watch for any undead incursions by Lyras' hordes. We have established routes, times, and locations. Hopefully now volunteers will come.
I find this work exhausting yet rewarding. If one life of an inhabitant of Forfedhdar can be saved this is all time well spent. Let the other lands run around or march their orderly marches, we will prove that the dwarves are a force to be reckoned with.
We have a relay system that can spread word quickly from as far north as the old Monastery to Hibarnhvidar and west along the Great Salt Road, and even to Horse Clan if someone's mind is open and listening.
It is only the beginning, but it is a start.
~Kraggur
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Clouded Skies
Fall, 393AV.
Winter begins to draw near in the mountains. The journey south from the forests near Boar Clan and Asketi's Mount become increasingly difficult as mud builds on the trails and paths. The road is fine between Boar Clan and the Market Gate. Winter hints on the air with colder breezes coming off the Arncharn and Himineldar every day.
The upside to this weather, which is a nice affirmation of the natural order with all this unnatural business with the eastern lands, is it makes meetings more easy to attend and draw audiences for. Nothing like a good hot meal and mug of ale to take the edge off the coming winter. I also have found that it takes plenty of time to arrange meetings, even as infrequent as they are. The upside is many a new face and veterans are attending. Word slowly spreads as we gather more information on the eastern menace, as well as more mundane matters of what needs to be done within the city and the farther-flung outposts.
I suspect I will see the first snows falling on the trees within weeks, which will be a wonderous sight as always.
~Kraggur Kveldcharn
Winter begins to draw near in the mountains. The journey south from the forests near Boar Clan and Asketi's Mount become increasingly difficult as mud builds on the trails and paths. The road is fine between Boar Clan and the Market Gate. Winter hints on the air with colder breezes coming off the Arncharn and Himineldar every day.
The upside to this weather, which is a nice affirmation of the natural order with all this unnatural business with the eastern lands, is it makes meetings more easy to attend and draw audiences for. Nothing like a good hot meal and mug of ale to take the edge off the coming winter. I also have found that it takes plenty of time to arrange meetings, even as infrequent as they are. The upside is many a new face and veterans are attending. Word slowly spreads as we gather more information on the eastern menace, as well as more mundane matters of what needs to be done within the city and the farther-flung outposts.
I suspect I will see the first snows falling on the trees within weeks, which will be a wonderous sight as always.
~Kraggur Kveldcharn
Monday, March 2, 2009
Dwarven History
I have finally begun to set pen to paper and draft a long overdue work on the History of the Dwarves. While our records are usually quite accurate, some information has been lost in the falls of High Hold and Rendstaan.
However the work has begun!
http://www.elanthipedia.com/wiki/Comprehensive_Dwarven_Timeline
I also have written a basic treatise on the Dwarven Nations
The Dwarven Nations
In the region between Therengia and Forfedhdar lies the Arncharn Shel or “Ironstar Mountains”. The Arncharn Shel is home to the Dwarven Kingdom of Kwarlog. Kwarlog was founded in 1859 BL, and the Kingdom was considered the only expansionistic dwarven nation. After 1000 BL, and the ending of the Elven-Human War, Kwarlog expanded north to the Gemfire Mountains surrounding Velaka. Two expeditions into Velaka, from the new city of Hvaral were unsuccessful. Hvaral was abandoned by the dwarves in 63 AV, and is now held by Therengia.
The Kingdom of Rendstaan was in the Journelai Shel between Zoluren and Therengia. It gradually faded beginning with the death of King Heksoch around 990 BL, with the kingdom fully abandoned by 535 BL. Internecine violence led to the non-partisans fleeing to Kwarlog.
Stone Clan is the small successor to Rendstaan, having been founded by a portion of Rendstaan’s army that had left for Imperial service. The halls were opened in 500 BL.
West of Zoluren and Ilithi are the Himineldar Shel or “Skyfire Mountains”. They are home to the dwarven nation centered at the capitol of Forfedhdar, Hibarnhvidar and the outposts of Ain Ghazal and Raven’s Point.
Astride the Dragon Spine Mountains once was the Iron Kingdom centered at the capitol Garnedhren. Iron Clan settlements first began in 3150 BL, with Garnedhren’s construction starting in 3048 BL. The city was built jointly with the Mountain Elves for aid rendered. In 2649 BL the kingdom fell to Morganae and was renamed Elamiri.
South of Ilithi are the ruins of High Hold and the Kingdom of Adamantia, high in the Hiimarhand Shel. High Hold was the first dwarven city and it lasted several millennia. No army ever conquered High Hold, until the creation of the Dark Hand by the Dragon Priests in 195 BL which led to High Hold’s isolation. It was eventually abandoned in 158 BL and the surviving dwarves joined Hibarnhvidar or Kwarlog.
However the work has begun!
http://www.elanthipedia.com/wiki/Comprehensive_Dwarven_Timeline
I also have written a basic treatise on the Dwarven Nations
The Dwarven Nations
In the region between Therengia and Forfedhdar lies the Arncharn Shel or “Ironstar Mountains”. The Arncharn Shel is home to the Dwarven Kingdom of Kwarlog. Kwarlog was founded in 1859 BL, and the Kingdom was considered the only expansionistic dwarven nation. After 1000 BL, and the ending of the Elven-Human War, Kwarlog expanded north to the Gemfire Mountains surrounding Velaka. Two expeditions into Velaka, from the new city of Hvaral were unsuccessful. Hvaral was abandoned by the dwarves in 63 AV, and is now held by Therengia.
The Kingdom of Rendstaan was in the Journelai Shel between Zoluren and Therengia. It gradually faded beginning with the death of King Heksoch around 990 BL, with the kingdom fully abandoned by 535 BL. Internecine violence led to the non-partisans fleeing to Kwarlog.
Stone Clan is the small successor to Rendstaan, having been founded by a portion of Rendstaan’s army that had left for Imperial service. The halls were opened in 500 BL.
West of Zoluren and Ilithi are the Himineldar Shel or “Skyfire Mountains”. They are home to the dwarven nation centered at the capitol of Forfedhdar, Hibarnhvidar and the outposts of Ain Ghazal and Raven’s Point.
Astride the Dragon Spine Mountains once was the Iron Kingdom centered at the capitol Garnedhren. Iron Clan settlements first began in 3150 BL, with Garnedhren’s construction starting in 3048 BL. The city was built jointly with the Mountain Elves for aid rendered. In 2649 BL the kingdom fell to Morganae and was renamed Elamiri.
South of Ilithi are the ruins of High Hold and the Kingdom of Adamantia, high in the Hiimarhand Shel. High Hold was the first dwarven city and it lasted several millennia. No army ever conquered High Hold, until the creation of the Dark Hand by the Dragon Priests in 195 BL which led to High Hold’s isolation. It was eventually abandoned in 158 BL and the surviving dwarves joined Hibarnhvidar or Kwarlog.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Glowing Iron Fragments
393 Years, 177 Days since the Victory of Lanival the Redeemer, 5th Month of Uthmor the Giant, in the Year of the Bronze Wyvern.
I am now five and fifty years in age. Accordingly Kertigen has seen fit to deliver me a gift of a fragment, once common during the period when the skies fell, and now much less common. Unlike last time, I have prepared notes both from my own observation, as well as those of a fellow dwarf, Gremtrak.
An iron fragment recently entered my possession again and this time I remembered to scribe its properties:
You feel an intense chill through your fawn brown gloves.
You focus your magical senses on a glowing iron fragment.
You detect a powerful charge of celestial energy emanating from the fragment.
The charge is inexorably dissipating and will only last for another day.
While lesser magicians may perceive it as Lunar energy, you note that this magic is drawn down from the planets and stars far removed from Elanthia. Celestial energy in an unstructured form is highly unusual and bears detailed study.
Though the fragment is heavily charged with energy, you detect that there is no spell pattern or enchanting sigil behind it. Instead, it appears to be an exaggerated example of meteoric iron. A massive charge of celestial magic built up around the fragment during a time in the heavens, and now that it is on Elanthia that power is "winding down." The bitterly cold light is a manifestation of the escaping energy, akin to the forces called down by the Starlight Sphere spell.
While its composition suggests meteoric iron, this magic is evocative of an origin in the cold and distant stars. Astrologers have never managed to quantify the strength and distance of the stars, but that is because both are perceived to be larger than imagination. Someone who was examining the magical element out of context may leap to the conclusion that he is holding a star, but there's still enough Elanthia left intact to suggest that is not the case.
Whether an exceptional piece of meteoric iron or an infinitesimally small stellar fragment, it is undeniably sympathetic to Stellar Magic. You could likely amplify the Starlight Sphere spell with its presence.
My fellow Gremtrak's observations:
Powerful charge of lunar, inexorably dissipating, last only another day. it appears at first glance to be nothing but a Moon Mage's curio, you detect a trace of divine meaning hidden within the magic.
Though the fragment has been heavily polluted with Lunar magic, you feel a thrill of divine meaning through your soul as you unravel its design.
The influence of three gods converge within the fragment. You sense that the fragment is intimately connected to Tamsine and considered a holy relic by the grace of Phelim. Dark and destructive -- yet no less holy -- currents ripple through the fragment as well, connecting this piece of iron to the terrible will of Huldah.
The connection between Tamsine and Phelim, along with the Lunar pollution, suggests that this is a star fallen from the place where Phelim suspended it. Its appearance and physical composition are manifestations of Huldah's influence, capable of turning divine tears into something deadly and base. You intuit that if the star is left as it is now, Huldah's influence over it will continue to grow and finally become ascendant.
Despite its fallen state, you conclude that it is still an important relic of Phelim. Outside of whatever purpose the gods have set for it, you could likely amplify the Phelim's Sanction spell with its presence.
A third mage, an elementress, observed a basic form of what both the cleric and I were able to:
You feel an intense chill through your silver-edged gloves. You focus your magical senses on a glowing iron fragment. You detect a powerful charge of Lunar energy emanating from the fragment. The charge is inexorably dissipating and will only last for another day.
Signed by my hand,
Kraggur of the Nomads
I am now five and fifty years in age. Accordingly Kertigen has seen fit to deliver me a gift of a fragment, once common during the period when the skies fell, and now much less common. Unlike last time, I have prepared notes both from my own observation, as well as those of a fellow dwarf, Gremtrak.
An iron fragment recently entered my possession again and this time I remembered to scribe its properties:
You feel an intense chill through your fawn brown gloves.
You focus your magical senses on a glowing iron fragment.
You detect a powerful charge of celestial energy emanating from the fragment.
The charge is inexorably dissipating and will only last for another day.
While lesser magicians may perceive it as Lunar energy, you note that this magic is drawn down from the planets and stars far removed from Elanthia. Celestial energy in an unstructured form is highly unusual and bears detailed study.
Though the fragment is heavily charged with energy, you detect that there is no spell pattern or enchanting sigil behind it. Instead, it appears to be an exaggerated example of meteoric iron. A massive charge of celestial magic built up around the fragment during a time in the heavens, and now that it is on Elanthia that power is "winding down." The bitterly cold light is a manifestation of the escaping energy, akin to the forces called down by the Starlight Sphere spell.
While its composition suggests meteoric iron, this magic is evocative of an origin in the cold and distant stars. Astrologers have never managed to quantify the strength and distance of the stars, but that is because both are perceived to be larger than imagination. Someone who was examining the magical element out of context may leap to the conclusion that he is holding a star, but there's still enough Elanthia left intact to suggest that is not the case.
Whether an exceptional piece of meteoric iron or an infinitesimally small stellar fragment, it is undeniably sympathetic to Stellar Magic. You could likely amplify the Starlight Sphere spell with its presence.
My fellow Gremtrak's observations:
Powerful charge of lunar, inexorably dissipating, last only another day. it appears at first glance to be nothing but a Moon Mage's curio, you detect a trace of divine meaning hidden within the magic.
Though the fragment has been heavily polluted with Lunar magic, you feel a thrill of divine meaning through your soul as you unravel its design.
The influence of three gods converge within the fragment. You sense that the fragment is intimately connected to Tamsine and considered a holy relic by the grace of Phelim. Dark and destructive -- yet no less holy -- currents ripple through the fragment as well, connecting this piece of iron to the terrible will of Huldah.
The connection between Tamsine and Phelim, along with the Lunar pollution, suggests that this is a star fallen from the place where Phelim suspended it. Its appearance and physical composition are manifestations of Huldah's influence, capable of turning divine tears into something deadly and base. You intuit that if the star is left as it is now, Huldah's influence over it will continue to grow and finally become ascendant.
Despite its fallen state, you conclude that it is still an important relic of Phelim. Outside of whatever purpose the gods have set for it, you could likely amplify the Phelim's Sanction spell with its presence.
A third mage, an elementress, observed a basic form of what both the cleric and I were able to:
You feel an intense chill through your silver-edged gloves. You focus your magical senses on a glowing iron fragment. You detect a powerful charge of Lunar energy emanating from the fragment. The charge is inexorably dissipating and will only last for another day.
Signed by my hand,
Kraggur of the Nomads
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Sewt and my new knife
393 Years, 129 days since the victory of Lanival the Redeemer
4th Month of Shorka the Cobra, in the Year of the Bronze Wyvern.
Today word received me in time to head to the Seacaves to meet with Master Sewt a fellow dwarf and tinkerer of some renown. Waiting in line with many others, I found that he worked on tools and household items. I was able to come up with an idea for my carving knife, having it redone from its plain mikkhalbamar grip, to something much more suiting to my nature as moon mage, dwarf, and nomad.
Here is what he was able to make, almost exactly as I had requested:
You tap a long carving knife etched with lunar symbols
The stars of Kertigen's constellation, the Raven, are etched onto one side of the blade. Opposite the stars are a series of animals following a trail of runes, all set in copper. Raven wings sweep up from the hilt to form a hand guard, while the feet clasp a sunstone scroll.
Signed by my hand,
Kraggur
4th Month of Shorka the Cobra, in the Year of the Bronze Wyvern.
Today word received me in time to head to the Seacaves to meet with Master Sewt a fellow dwarf and tinkerer of some renown. Waiting in line with many others, I found that he worked on tools and household items. I was able to come up with an idea for my carving knife, having it redone from its plain mikkhalbamar grip, to something much more suiting to my nature as moon mage, dwarf, and nomad.
Here is what he was able to make, almost exactly as I had requested:
You tap a long carving knife etched with lunar symbols
The stars of Kertigen's constellation, the Raven, are etched onto one side of the blade. Opposite the stars are a series of animals following a trail of runes, all set in copper. Raven wings sweep up from the hilt to form a hand guard, while the feet clasp a sunstone scroll.
Signed by my hand,
Kraggur
Monday, January 26, 2009
Sa Hlef ut nin Baskan
http://docs.google.com/Doc?id=ddhszpf2_5f9vxmgc4
(Link has the full accounting)
Sa Hlef ut nin Baskan
The Beginnings of a Mage
I am Kraggur, Nenavskan, Malnis, and ‘Dan gwen tage’. Amongst the people of Ratha I have been known for almost a year, amongst those of the River Crossing, Haven, and Shard for several more. As those who know me, my word is my unbreakable bond. Kertigen serve as my witness that the writing following is a true account of the early years of my life before events made me journey to the lands more commonly travelled and inhabited by Man.
Note that this account is broken into several segments with some substantial gaps between. I have done my best to document my age at least to give readers some reference to today’s times. At the time of this writing,, I am some 54 years old.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Guide
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Prelude Sa Shelli Silfarik The Silver Hills
Chapter 1 Hunth Prisoner
Chapter 2 Saarnur Freedom
Chapter 3 Sa Klend The Journey
Chapter 4 Nin Hradhgig Kraka A Fated Meeting
Chapter 5 Nenavskan Moon Mage
Chapter 6 Malnis Wanderer
Chapter 7 Dan Gwen Tage Nomad
Chapter 8 Fareling Travelling
Conclusion Dun sa Radhelar Mirk Against the Rising Darkness
(Link has the full accounting)
Sa Hlef ut nin Baskan
The Beginnings of a Mage
I am Kraggur, Nenavskan, Malnis, and ‘Dan gwen tage’. Amongst the people of Ratha I have been known for almost a year, amongst those of the River Crossing, Haven, and Shard for several more. As those who know me, my word is my unbreakable bond. Kertigen serve as my witness that the writing following is a true account of the early years of my life before events made me journey to the lands more commonly travelled and inhabited by Man.
Note that this account is broken into several segments with some substantial gaps between. I have done my best to document my age at least to give readers some reference to today’s times. At the time of this writing,
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Guide
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Prelude Sa Shelli Silfarik The Silver Hills
Chapter 1 Hunth Prisoner
Chapter 2 Saarnur Freedom
Chapter 3 Sa Klend The Journey
Chapter 4 Nin Hradhgig Kraka A Fated Meeting
Chapter 5 Nenavskan Moon Mage
Chapter 6 Malnis Wanderer
Chapter 7 Dan Gwen Tage Nomad
Chapter 8 Fareling Travelling
Conclusion Dun sa Radhelar Mirk Against the Rising Darkness
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Thoughts on recent events
*various notations about star positions, lack of stars, and indecipherable conclusions about natural spirits, mountains, and astronomical calculations precede the section of the scroll*
216 Days, 392 Years Since the Victory of Lanival the Redeemer, 6th Month of Arhat the Fire Lion,
Year of the Silver Unicorn
I consider it a matter of professional interest to concern myself, at least in some mild capacity, with events regarding necromancy, the gods, and the spirits of Elanthia. Most other moon mages might consider my work odd, seeing as a whole that we enjoy a rather more secular worldview than most other guilds.
On the other hand my calling as a Nomad, by its nature, inclines myself more towards necessary study of spirits, souls, and the nature of life as can be understood through a more rigorous analysis of life itself. I make no secret of my association with Kertigen and Meraud both, nor the various summonings and controlling of servants worldly and otherworldly. Shadowlings and Shadow Servants are common, but so too are my summonings of boggles and other lesser spirits and creatures not oft understood.
It is with this in mind that the events of the past years (not strictly in order) have deeply disturbed me and others of my calling:
First were the Dragon Priest invasions. I myself stood at the Crossing gate when one of their foul gates first opened allowing their assassins, priests, and warriors loose into civilized lands again. The foulness lying beyond their gates caused even my stalwart soul to quail at the sight. My beard bears its first grey strands from that day.
Second was the coming of Veyne. Through various sources, word of unsettled spirits surrounding his appearance and ring-giving slowly reached me. As the quality of information improved, a council was called and movement begun towards discovering the nature of his being and offers. While our band’s leadership formed, the issue rapidly outpaced our small group and his true nature was revealed, stalling our direct efforts in this venture. A curse to being a Nomad, and away in Ratha, I guess. None the less, I journeyed to Shard and other locales where he was known to remain for a while. In doing this I discovered that the land itself took notice of his passing and bore the spiritual scars of his passing long after he was there. This issue bears further investigation into the nature of Veyne’s full activities and what impact they have upon the natural order.
My kinsmen who have aided me in this venture to date I hope will receive word of this and continue to send me report of any further damage to Elanthia’s fabric.
Third is the recent disappearance of the stars, the appearance of astrological artifacts upon Elanthia’s soil, and the debate between Moon Mages and Clerics over the nature of said artifacts. Having in my possession a small number of artifacts, their astrological nature cannot be denied. What disturbs me is their lack of any spiritual connection to Elanthia. Say what the Clerics will about the presence of spiritual forces swirling inside the stellar fragments I can sense no ties to Elanthia herself through them.
While others wiser than me may speculate upon this, I have reached several conclusions. First, it is logical that the stars we observe would not have direct connection to the spirits of Elanthia. This does not deny the spiritual nor astrological significance or findings behind the shards, merely that they are not of Elanthia. Second, this nature is disconcerting. I have not had the time to fully examine any areas where these shards have landed. Anyone who has and is attuned to the land, I would greatly appreciate your input on any spiritual imbalance, awakenings, or non-understood phenomena arising from where they landed. Similarly any findings on impacts from places where they stand for some time are welcome as well. Third, I do not know what future impacts this may have. Moon mages, amongst others, have experience in dealing with otherworldly entities and binding them. However, to my knowledge, we lack experience in the same for non-entities, such as these stones. Do trust that on these accounts myself and my kin will be searching for answers, or at least explanations and hypotheses for these conditions.
Taken together these issues create no small concern for myself regarding the natural spirits of Elanthia and what may bode for them. All too often are our resources dominated by theological and astrological debates. Rangers are my kin in safeguarding the wellbeing of Elanthia, however I seek also to understand and safeguard Elanthia’s spirits as well. My fellow Nomadic kin are spread far and few in between, as is our nature.
Signed by my hand,
Kraggur of the Nomads
216 Days, 392 Years Since the Victory of Lanival the Redeemer, 6th Month of Arhat the Fire Lion,
Year of the Silver Unicorn
I consider it a matter of professional interest to concern myself, at least in some mild capacity, with events regarding necromancy, the gods, and the spirits of Elanthia. Most other moon mages might consider my work odd, seeing as a whole that we enjoy a rather more secular worldview than most other guilds.
On the other hand my calling as a Nomad, by its nature, inclines myself more towards necessary study of spirits, souls, and the nature of life as can be understood through a more rigorous analysis of life itself. I make no secret of my association with Kertigen and Meraud both, nor the various summonings and controlling of servants worldly and otherworldly. Shadowlings and Shadow Servants are common, but so too are my summonings of boggles and other lesser spirits and creatures not oft understood.
It is with this in mind that the events of the past years (not strictly in order) have deeply disturbed me and others of my calling:
First were the Dragon Priest invasions. I myself stood at the Crossing gate when one of their foul gates first opened allowing their assassins, priests, and warriors loose into civilized lands again. The foulness lying beyond their gates caused even my stalwart soul to quail at the sight. My beard bears its first grey strands from that day.
Second was the coming of Veyne. Through various sources, word of unsettled spirits surrounding his appearance and ring-giving slowly reached me. As the quality of information improved, a council was called and movement begun towards discovering the nature of his being and offers. While our band’s leadership formed, the issue rapidly outpaced our small group and his true nature was revealed, stalling our direct efforts in this venture. A curse to being a Nomad, and away in Ratha, I guess. None the less, I journeyed to Shard and other locales where he was known to remain for a while. In doing this I discovered that the land itself took notice of his passing and bore the spiritual scars of his passing long after he was there. This issue bears further investigation into the nature of Veyne’s full activities and what impact they have upon the natural order.
My kinsmen who have aided me in this venture to date I hope will receive word of this and continue to send me report of any further damage to Elanthia’s fabric.
Third is the recent disappearance of the stars, the appearance of astrological artifacts upon Elanthia’s soil, and the debate between Moon Mages and Clerics over the nature of said artifacts. Having in my possession a small number of artifacts, their astrological nature cannot be denied. What disturbs me is their lack of any spiritual connection to Elanthia. Say what the Clerics will about the presence of spiritual forces swirling inside the stellar fragments I can sense no ties to Elanthia herself through them.
While others wiser than me may speculate upon this, I have reached several conclusions. First, it is logical that the stars we observe would not have direct connection to the spirits of Elanthia. This does not deny the spiritual nor astrological significance or findings behind the shards, merely that they are not of Elanthia. Second, this nature is disconcerting. I have not had the time to fully examine any areas where these shards have landed. Anyone who has and is attuned to the land, I would greatly appreciate your input on any spiritual imbalance, awakenings, or non-understood phenomena arising from where they landed. Similarly any findings on impacts from places where they stand for some time are welcome as well. Third, I do not know what future impacts this may have. Moon mages, amongst others, have experience in dealing with otherworldly entities and binding them. However, to my knowledge, we lack experience in the same for non-entities, such as these stones. Do trust that on these accounts myself and my kin will be searching for answers, or at least explanations and hypotheses for these conditions.
Taken together these issues create no small concern for myself regarding the natural spirits of Elanthia and what may bode for them. All too often are our resources dominated by theological and astrological debates. Rangers are my kin in safeguarding the wellbeing of Elanthia, however I seek also to understand and safeguard Elanthia’s spirits as well. My fellow Nomadic kin are spread far and few in between, as is our nature.
Signed by my hand,
Kraggur of the Nomads
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