Interlude: Kirchin's Dream...

A day out from the prospect of a half-decent bed at the Welcome Back Inn on the borders of Elyntia, the party had stopped to make camp as the sun set.

Having dined on the meagre wildlife Dirkin had been able to forage, Kirchin lay down for a few hours sleep before it was his turn to stand watch.

Before he realised it he was dreaming. Walking through woods, following a shooting star, but somehow he wasn't looking through his own eyes.

The star had landed in a clearing ahead of him. Looking into the crater, he saw a small rock, the size of a slingshot, that looked oddly like a skull. He took this as a sign from Jen The All-Father that this was the place he had been searching for.

He made the holy sign to the sky - but they were not his hands.

Time accelerated, people appeared, showing great deference to Kirchin, and following his instructions, the clearing was enlarged as trees were cut down. They were building a community, a village, at Kirchin's behest.

He recognised it as Bendwyn, but not the Bendwyn he knew now.

Kirchin watched as a team of labourers carried an enormous rock plinth into the chapel at the heart of the village, then he followed them in, said a prayer to the Mnoren gods, placed the small, skull-shaped fallen star into an indentation in the centre of the stone base, then stepped back and watched the labourers lower a flat stone atop the plinth to form an altar.

The dreamer stood in front of the altar, raised his arms, and all the workmen, and other villagers who had gathered in the chapel, knelt before him...

Kirchin woke with a start. Harry was shaking him, reminding him it was his turn to watch over the camp as everyone slept.

For a moment, Kirchin thought he had something important to tell Harry, but it slipped his mind as the halfling wandered off to find somewhere to sleep that wasn't too close to the elephantine snoring of Davian Battlebeard.

History: The Secession Wars (2009 - 2011)

The Secession Wars (also known as The Dukes' Rebellion and The Elyntian Civil War) was an intense 30-month conflict centred primarily around the winter capital of Elyntia, Winterhome, although smaller skirmishes spread across large swathes of Northern Elyntia.

Almost exactly 150 years after the end of The Thousand Year War, the Dukes of Kanon and Spartax in the North-West of Elyntia rose up in open rebellion against the King Keeg The Bloody.

Keeg The Bloody

Part of their grievances was the fact that orcs and goblins were still allowed to live in Elyntia; it was only the wilder, more feral clans that had been driven south of The Bright River (the minority orcs remaining in Elyntia were generally peaceful and kept themselves to themselves while the Goblin Market in Canigli is still celebrated the length and breadth of the country).

Neither foolish nor naive enough to strike directly at the capital, Kaerater, the dukes and their barons lay siege to the King's estates in Winterhome, the second city of Elyntia.

Through dark magics and remorseless assaults, throwing wave after wave of troops at Winterhome, the city was razed to the ground with its population reduced to a tenth of its original size, eeking out an existence in the ruins of the once great city.

One of the ironic things about this conflict, given the racial tension that helped spark the war, is that both sides freely used orc and goblin mercenaries in their armies.

Smaller pockets of rebellion popped up across Northern Elyntia during this time, mostly barons sensing that change might be in the air, trying to seize a slice of the pie for themselves or settle personal grudges.
 

Princess Mirabella riding into battle

In the closing months of the war both Prince Castor and Princess Mirabella, the 18-year-old twin children of King Keeg, led units into battle, winning both decisive victories and the respect of their troops.

Eventually, the Dukes of Kanon and Spartax were slain (rumour has it some of their barons were bribed to change allegiance back to the king) and their rebellion was crushed along with their dreams of their own independent state.

The dukes' heads were paraded through Kaerater on pikes, then left to rot over the entrance gate of Túr Hwit (The White Tower) .

The barons who had stood with the rebellious dukes were called to the capital and forced to march into the palace under the severed heads of the dukes.

There they had to bend the knee to the king and swear new oaths of fealty - with the added threat that should they entertain traitorous thoughts again, not only would they meet the same fate as the dukes, so would every member of their extended families.

The remains of Winterhome today - a barren desert of ruins

People Of Cidri: The Wöden

The Wöden, descendants of the minority human tribes that existed originally on the continent of Tekralh alongside the orcs and goblins, are now a transient people, found in small communities and brightly-coloured caravans, across Tekralh and other neighbouring continents (such as Sevled).

They are masters of the horse and caravan. Hardened survivors, they relish life and are renowned for their wild dancing and drinking as their martial cunning and sly wits.

It is not unknown for Wöden caravans to be welcomed into isolated, cold, southern towns in exchange for displays of salacious dancing and magic tricks.

However, their exotic nature also makes them prey for unscrupulous slavers and so the Wöden are often as suspicious of civilized folks as they are of the Wöden.

In more romantic cultures they are called: “The People of The Wheel”, because they are always on the move and have no permanent homes – except their caravans – or cities.

However, according to Elyntian lore the Wöden refused to convert to the Mnoren faith when the invaders from Sevled conquered their lands, instead opting to celebrate the carnal ways of The Great God T'Ao. For this Jen Mnoren and Mother Issus cursed them never to have a homeland again and so they began their long journey to redemption.

A Dancer

It is also claimed that Wöden females (especially the dancers) bewitch civilized males, kidnap them and corrupt them into their un-Mnoren ways. Naturally men (and some women) are more than willing to pay large sums of gold to see them dance.

More level-headed scholars suspect that this legend was created to demonise The Wöden, who are known to worship strange gods - unfamiliar to the Mnoren Pantheon - and practice fortune telling and prophesy outside of the confines of "normal" religion.

Because they are always on the move, the Wöden are also a good source of news, folklore and stories from across the enormous region they traverse (whether this is reliable or not is another matter and probably depends on how much you paid for the information).

Some Wöden have even banded together and purchased small, hardy ships. With a crew consisting almost entirely of a single tribe, these vessels then become either merchant ships or pirate ships - the Wöden excel in both nautical fields!

While most Wöden Clans act quite independently of the whole, they all tend to gather every three or four years for a large festival (often in the small, mountainous region known as Wöda, in north-eastern Elyntia), where the Ducja ('Leader of All Clans') sits in judgement over any disputes. The current Ducja is called Alba, and he has held that title for 12 years.

Ducja Alba

"Always watch your purse when trading with a Wöden"

– old Elyntian proverb.

WöDEN AS PLAYER-CHARACTERS

At creation, Wöden characters gain +1 DX, -1ST but are otherwise created like any other human characters.

Other nationalities instinctively don't trust them - no non-Wöden will take orders from a Wöden.

Their hair colour is predominantly black.

Wöden Dancers

They traditionally rely on lighter armour (no Wöden would ever be seen wearing plate mail, for example), shorter weapons (again, traditionally single-handed blades or clubs) and are fine archers with non-mechanical bows.

Most Wöden have, at least, a basic understanding of animal husbandry, horse-riding and cold weather survival. Many are also proficient in matters of business (e.g. haggling, accounting etc) or entertainment (playing musical instruments, storytelling, singing and/or dancing).

Interlude II - Some Late Night Reading...

Betty Entwhistle

Betty Entwhistle's snoring could be heard from outside the wizard's house.

Marigold knew she'd be curled up in bed upstairs with her two young children - as Peter was still away - and so the young apprentice and her flame-haired friend Imogen tip-toed through the Marigold's own bedroom (which doubled as a storage room beneath the main sleeping area) making for the locked door that led to the wizard's library.

Imogen knelt down by the door, fished her lock pick set out of her belt and studied the lock. For someone of her determination and ability, it was a simple matter to pick the basic mechanism.

The door creaked open - the women froze, but no one in the house stirred - and a waft of dust, coupled with the smell of leather and mild decay, hit Imogen and Marigold.

Imogen gave a thumbs up sign and Marigold smiled. This was turning out to be easier than she'd expected.

The library was a small room, crammed floor to ceiling with books of various kinds and scrolls. In the centre of the room was sturdy desk, also covered in stacks of books. Some of the books were decorated with white splashes of bird excrement from Peter's pet raven, while others were coated in wax where broad candles had been placed on them for illumination.

Marigold lit one of the larger candle stubs and started to run her finger along the spines of the books on the closest shelf. 

She had briefed Imogen before hand about what she was looking for (primarily books about the "Witch Of Huldre Forest"), but as the potter's daughter was illiterate, they both decided it was safer if Imogen didn't go through the books.

Marigold knew the majority of Peter's collection were treatises on magic, but some were also books of magic and these were regarded as particularly dangerous in the hands of the untrained.

After about half-an-hour (it felt much longer), Imogen was starting to get bored and twitchy when suddenly Marigold let out a tiny squeal and pointed frantically at a green tome she had pulled from the shelf. Imogen shrugged.

'Legendes Of The Grayte Foret Of Huldre' was inscribed on the cover. Marigold excitedly began to leaf through this study of the various phenomena and folktales associated with the forest. She scanned over the section on ομίχλες της μνήμης (omíchles ti̱s mní̱mi̱s or 'memory mist'), which was clearly what she and her fellow adventurers had encountered the other week, before her eyes fell on a woodcut illustration:

The Witch Drowns A Peasant Woman

The accompanying text explained that the Witch Of Huldre Forest (Δάσος μάγισσα or Dásos mágissa) had first appeared at the court of King Ulfric (father of the present king) in Kaerater, the capitol city of Elyntia, about 76 years ago as an ambassador from an unknown land.

She was making outrageous demands on the court and Ulfric, who did not suffer fools gladly, had her entourage executed before she was stripped, beaten and driven from the city. With an escort of a dozen heavily armoured knights, she was then paraded through the land, from the capitol to the Bright River in the south, as a symbol of Ulfric's no-nonsense attitude.

When the party reached the Huldre Forest, the woman was cut loose, dressed only in rags and with no food, and left to fend for herself.

As the knights rode away, she was heard cursing them before she disappeared into the trees.

While most people believe she would have been immediately killed (and probably eaten) by the orcs of Tanander, rumours persisted in the decades that followed that the witch still lived and numerous child abductions (storytellers generally believe she wants to drink their blood) and drownings have been blamed on her.

Some said she became a queen of the orcs, while others suggest she magically travelled back to the kingdom from whence she came.

As Marigold finished reading, Imogen leaned in and tugged at her sleeves (the sign they had agreed to indicate that Betty was stirring).

They just made it out of the library (Imogen locking the door behind them) when the air was rent by an enormous farting sound as Betty heaved herself out of bed and, with a loud clatter and some fruity language, grabbed the bucket that was used for ablutions and stumbled, half-asleep, to the corner of the master bedroom.

The two young women couldn't help but giggle as they silently embraced, Marigold whispering her thanks to Imogen, who then slipped away into the night.

Marigold would have to pay a second visit to the library another night to swot up on the other matters she had an interest in.

The Entwhistle House: Peter's Library is out the back, accessed from the lower bedroom area on the left-hand side of the building

Interlude: That Was The Week That Was...

It is now a week since Davian, Kirchin and co. returned from their epic adventure and while Sir Browyrd has yet to arrive from Dranning to collect the captured bandit, Margesh Blackblood, our heroes have been striving to get their lives back to normal.

Margesh remains imprisoned in the one cell of Bendwyn's Watch House, but as befits a person of his rank, he has been well-fed, with the best meals available from The Golden Axe, and has also attracted the attention of a number of single women in the village, who pay him surreptitious visits late into the evening.

Having been warmly welcomed home by her adopted father, Harry (who had been increasingly worried for his ward's safety with her extended absence), Imogen took Blackblood's fine studded armour to a variety of craftsmen in Bendwyn to see if any were able to alter the garment to fit her petite frame.

Revoreesh

Sadly, none were able to oblige and James, Bendwyn's tailor, told her flat out that not only wouldn't he be able to adjust the suit of armour but that she should return it to Margesh.

"He may, presently, be under lock and key, but he is still of noble birth and a relative of the duke," he told her as he showed her the door.

Guess, she'll have to look elsewhere then...

Meanwhile, Marigold Weaver had discovered that her master, the town wizard Peter Entwhistle, had left the town shortly after he sent her to fetch an alembic from Syrius the Sage in Horst, to visit with Revoreesh, the most powerful conjurer in the duchy, on a matter of some importance.

He had left no further instructions with his wife Betty except that his library should remain locked and she should continue with his affairs as best as she was able.

Settling down to sleep on her rough cot, Marigold, the sorcerer's apprentice, was plagued with nightmares of dancing stick figures, cackling witches and blasted landscapes pock marked by spurting gas vents and dotted with dead trees.

The Yellow King

A boozy evening at The Golden Axe for Kirchin, Davian Battlebeard and Harry Cobblethwaite resulted in the canny halfing bard learning more about the name "Croatoan" and the mysterious "Witch Of Huldre Forest".

Croatoa, he was was reminded by landlord Gunther Treszhnak, was the name of an ancient land in a long-forgotten children's nursery rhyme about a supernatural entity known as The Yellow King who would steal the dreams of naughty children and replace them with wasps.

The Witch, however, Gunther told him, was not a fairy tale. She lives in the southern reaches of the mighty Huldre Forest, was known to eat lost travellers and commanded an army of demonic servants who move through the forest doing her bidding.

She is worshipped by some of the orc tribes of Tanander, who sacrifice captives to her in return for magical assistance in their internecine tribal conflicts.

History: The First Kings Of Elyntia

Ancient statue of King Ater in Dranning. To the left is his son, Evets Of The Silver Hand (who became king after him)
and to the right is his younger son, Retep The White-Haired.

As recorded in The Book Of Millius (the tenth century Elyntian monk who set about documenting the oral history of the continent of Tekralh), it was King Ater of The First Men who led the exodus from the continent of Sevled to the orc-dominated lands of Tekralh.

Wielding his mighty sword Caliburn, and with his sons (Princes Evets and Retep) by his side, he peacefully carved out a land (Elyntia, meaning "Blessed Haven") for his people, as well as their dwarven kin, the halflings and the Huldufolk - "the hidden people" (elves).

Sadly, although work was proceeding in all haste on his capitol city Kaerater, this great king only got to enjoy the fruits of his labours for seven years before succumbing to a wasting disease and passing on.

The crown of Elyntia went to his son, Evets of The Silver Hand, who ruled for four decades and is generally regarded as the best king the island had. Fair and even-handed, the country saw 40 years of peace and unity under his reign.

But things weren't destined to last. After Evets died of old age, the throne of Elyntia had 13 other holders in the coming 238 years, of various quality and stamina. Never again would the country know the peace it had enjoyed under King Evets, with petty jealousies and old feuds rearing their heads from time-to-time as dukes and barons jostled for power at court.

Arturus Slacksword, son of Ultar The Bastard, came to the throne in 849 only to lose it during orcish invasions from southern Tanander in 861. It has even been suggested that one or more Elyntian barons actually aided the invaders as they had come to believe that the foreign power was better suited to ruling their nation than their own people were.

This was the start of The Thousand Year War which the Elyntians only really won when the orc kingdom imploded into a jumble of feuding warlords and city-states.