Pan's Isle / Aveas /Gulanadur: Summary Recess thread

[Maeve]

The year 1224 AD was one of shocking dynamics upon Pan's Isle, once the capital of the religion of Pan, but abandoned in favor of the Citadel. It was a joyful place of faeries, centaurs and other exotic races. It was however one of its minor export products that proved the undoing of this little haven. Coffee, made into the much priced espresso, a brew that was both expensive and fashionable in the leading merchant city of World's Mouth.

Noticing how the area was practically undefended the Merchants of the Mouth, in an unlikely alliance with the Prodesse, went along with simply taking the isle for themselves, founding a colony called Aveas. The locals were unable to resist the far superior technology of World's Mouth, even though they were desperately trying to. The Empire could not muster its Imperial troops due to the lack of a Caesar, though Furst Erwin von zu Dort-Billigh, who had investments in the area gathered private troops to free Pan's Isle.

The merchants had entered the war without informing their monarch, focused on the gains that Pan's Isle had offered more than the crusade against the Heathens. It was the Kings arrival that threatened to steal away the profit, for win or lose he would credit himself with the colony. While the war was fought over every inch of ground on Aveas, massacring the royalist troops including the King, but unable to beat the superior force of the Mouthie legions and mercenaries, including the airship Lykos, it was the Merchant Council of World's Mouth that negotiated a treaty with the Empire, effectively creating the free city state of World's Mouth. It made Aveas a colony of the Mouth under Imperial authority, granting the Empire the right to tax. The royalists barely escaped with their lives and the Oneists too saw their forces seriously reduced and without finance. While a nominal number of Inquisitors remained their influence on Aveas was gone.

While the colony was but one town with assorted plantations, the treaty stated giving the Mouthies the entire isle as territory, their authority accepted by the Empire. However the forest was too thick, too dangerous to ever enforce that and small bands of resistance of old panlings and centaurs remained.

When the treaty was signed the colonists realized that there had been a slight oversight. Because one force remained on Aveas that was still not conquered, slain or befriended. The dark adhiel of Gulanadur did not care for merchants, royalist or oneists. Ramius Lo Russo negotiated with the this ancient yet unknown force. Their demands were simple. They wanted to slay the Oneists, and thus were fundamental in driving the remaining Purificatio and Royalists troops from the the isle. Gulanadur was also granted Fort Dusk as an outpost, allowing the dark adhiel to freely roam the surface of Tazlure. Finally, like World's Mouth the dark adhiel offered a hand of friendship to the Empire, through their contacts with Furst Erwin von zu Dort-Billigh who already had family and trade contacts in the city. Erwin pushed the inclusion of Gulanadur in the Empire through the council after a new Caesar had been elected.

After the peace treaty, Aveas now the new name of the Isle under Imperial authority, and not just the name of the city, the colonists organized themselves in a Merchant Council with a military leader. The colony remained subservient to the Magister of Foreign Affairs of the Mouth Carloni. Their primary focus was the coffee plantations. Using "voluntarily labor" from amongst the locals, as well as slaves brought in through the secret trade rout with Terra Incognita and of course the close by Gulanadur, a good crop was ensured even after the destruction of War. Due to its tropical climate Aveas had nearly no winter and two harvests per year. A small resistance from the locals remained, hiding in the tropical forest, hunted down by the colonists.

OOC: Your timestamp is the 22nd of Chyril 1225 AD. Please post your Recess write up here only if you intend to STAY on this isle. If you are leaving after the War please post in the summary thread of your destination. You can start creating threads after a mod has finalized your write up. You can PM me with any questions you have.

EDIT: updated the status of panlings that are locals

[Sevti]

The war may have been short, but it was certainly hell. Sevti, with Thyren by her side, trailed the combined Panling and Gulanadorian fighters to the city of Tal 'Fea. Officially, she wasn't part of the troops, but she had been told that if she could sneak in to rescue Abeo, she should also commit any acts of sabotage possible. Through luck, or the blessing of Pan, she was able to slip into the town while the guards' attention was focused on the fighting at the gates. She rushed through the familiar streets, heading for the building in the center of town where she thought any prisoners would be held. As she rounded the final corner to her destination, she was brought up short by the sight of a burned body lying in the middle of the street. The height of the body was about right, the build a little small... but in the hand of the figure was a familiar dagger. Her whole world narrowed to that body as she walked slowly toward it. Unbelieving, her hand reached out to stroke the dagger. It was Abeo's.

A single tear welled in her eye as her hand wrapped around the hilt. Before she had a chance to mourn any further, Thyren's voice called out to her and she sat up with a start... just enough that the arrow headed for her heart hit her shoulder instead. Redness tinged her vision and her grasp on the dagger tightened. She didn't even think. With speed she didn't know she possessed, she ran toward her attacker, dagger in her hand, ready to strike the man in the heart. Another arrow was knocked and ready to be released. The girl would have been dead if it hadn't been for a dark adhiel coming around the corner and accurately threw a dagger into the man's back. Her eyes rose to meet his, a combination of gratitude and fury for a chance to make this kill herself swirling in their dark depths, before the redness faded from her vision. Being released from the lust of Blood, she realized the seriousness of her injury. She had enough time to glance at her blood soaked clothing before darkness took over and she dropped to the ground.

It was several days before she awoke, arm bandaged and shoulder sore. The first sound that came to her ears was Thyren's piping voice, proclaiming his joy that she was not dead. A smile crossed the Panling's face as she turned to look at her tiny companion. It was only then that she noticed the familiar dagger waiting on the table beside the cot on which she lay. Close it out of your mind, girl, she told herself. Now isn't the time to come apart. She begged the little halfling for news and was told that they were currently back in camp. The fighting had stopped and word had come from Citadel that a deal had been made. The invaders from World's Mouth had received the island, now renamed Aveas, in exchange for their agreement to pay Empire taxes. The Panlings, it seemed, had been forgotten.

The diminutive Panling's mouth set into a firm line, refusing to accept that their home had been given away to a people that had tried to destroy hers. She knew that someone had to do something about it, and, in many ways, she would be the best one for the job. She was, after all, human. And those from World's Mouth seemed to respect humans far more than they did the adhiel and other races. She sent word to the leader of the war party that she'd like to speak to him and outlined her plan - she wanted to go to Citadel to petition their right for land. Carefully, she outlined her reasons why she should go, from the racial to the fact that she was injured and would, hopefully, be therefore less a threat. The injury would also be a reminder of just what had happened here, that it wasn't a peaceful occupation but a bloody battle. The leader agreed, though he told her no one would be able to come with her. There were too many wounded from the attack on Tal 'Fea that no one could be spared. Thyren, with no suprise to Sevti, piped up that he would accompany her rather than have her go alone. Gotham, somewhat to her surprise, said he would as well.

Within a few days, she was ready to travel, her plan outlined. First she would try to speak with the Ambassador for World's Mouth. Then, if that didn't work, she would take her plea to the Council. And if neither of those worked... well, war was becoming a way of life. They'd fight more if they had to.

When she arrived in Citadel, it did not take her long to find and speak with the ambassador, one Rosalie LoRusso. The girl didn't try to keep the passion from her voice, for it was passion that gave her strength. She spoke at length about the homeless Panlings that had been shunted from their homes due to the war and the treaty. She spoke of the lives lost and the lives changed because of the war that had been brought to their shores. She spoke of the need of her people to become whole again. And finally, she spoke of the concessions the Panlings would be willing to give if they were given land - some would stay on as managers of the plantations, using their knowledge from their years of growing things on the island to bring profit to the Mouthies. And those that chose to live in the newly-deeded town would sell any of their crafts through Tal 'F... Aveas, allowing the Mouthies to gain some profit that way as well. In return, the Panlings wanted peace to live and worship in their own way. After some negotiation, the promise was made and the Panlings were allowed to have land to build a town on the other end of the island.

Sevti came back to the island with her news. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than the fight that would otherwise come. While members of the Blood had no problems with continuing to fight, those who did not feel that portion of Pan's calling wanted to settle down, wanted to return to the way of life that they knew, return to Joy and Art and family and friends. They needed this town.

The tiny Panling girl who brokered the deal, however, was uncertain what she needed. Or rather, she locked away what she truly needed - to mourn for her loss. Instead, she helped rebuild the town, making the temple her primary focus. Paloma would be returning soon and she wanted it ready for the Priestess to return to as quickly as possible. Through all of her labor, the dagger remained in a sheath at her side. She didn't allow herself to think of it, but she refused to be parted from it.

Once the building slowed, she turned her focus to other things - helping Paloma ready the temple when she returned, speaking with the Priestess of Pan and what she thought he would want of them next, practicing her lute daily, asking Gotham to teach her so should the rage overtake her once more, she would be ready for it, gladly doing any task asked of her. Through it all, she forced herself to feel joy. She would not allow the sorrow that she felt to overtake her, would not allow the sadness of Abeo's loss to creep in. She was a Panling, after all. Joy was her life. Not sorrow. She couldn't accept anything else, no matter how her heart longed to, no matter how many silent tears dampened her pillow in the night.

Star Distribution:

New Skill Theology (*****)
Pray ** to Basic +**
Small Blades * to Apprentice
Singing ** to Apprentice

Slight edits, adding Gotham into the recess with me, with his permission.

[Finodborn]

War has a price for everybody involved. In the case of Finodborn, it cost him his naivety.

After the Oneists had been slaughtered, he took his time to walk amongst the fallen, smelling Blood, remembering his own losses, praying to Pan and thanking the fae. He wanted a souvenir - a dagger, a jewel, anything really - something like his lightning glass. As a singer, his main duty was to preserve history. Although he was starting to think less and less of himself as a bard, he robbed a corpse, without shame, this responsibility in mind.

The celebration did not last long. Disbelief, astonishment, and anger succeeded each other when the news about the peace treaty reached him. It was totally uncomprehensible to him how the Empire could accept the razing and occupation of one of its cities, Tal'FeaTaur - his home! - just out of greed. Obviously, resistance was the only possible way, but it was less evident how to go about this. But after what had just happened, Finodborn was absolutely positive that he wanted to be an active part of it, convinced that it was possible to make a difference.

Finodborn spent a big part of Chyril talking, casually informing about the whereabouts and state of the Panling group known as the Thorns. If strictly necessary, he would resurrect them himself, become a leader, mustering those that he felt he could trust, telling them about the prophecy that promised the expulsion of the intruders.
The opponent had a few weaknesses that could be exploited. First of all, their precious coffee. Fire could consume fields or storage houses. More subtle, safe and inventive weapons could include gluttonous beetles, worms or other sorts of fauna farmers dislike. If enough men able to bear arms could be found, people could be lured into the forrest and executed.

Now, in the planning phase of all this, it was important to keep two things in mind: fear and anonymity. Fear was the most potent weapon: if Aveas would acquire the reputation of being a dark, grim place, it would attract less newcomers and become easier to destroy - which had to be the ultimate goal. So they would have to be cruel. Finodborn didn't intend to differentiate between helpless elders, young men or children. Or just maybe children could be stolen and raised in the wilds.
Anonymity was of utmost importance as well. Aveas would most probably allow natives to participate in the colony's economy - supplies would be cheaper coming from the Isle itself than from ships, and surely money would be some motivation for these men. As such, it would become possible to become a part of the city life for the adhiel, which was the ideal starting position for guerilla warfare. So it was of vital importance for Finodborn that his political stance and his role in the war would not become generally known.

While sharpening the knives like this, it became increasingly clear that Finodborn needed a means of defending himself. Although he had spent quite some time in sword practice in the past, he still didn't have any affinity with the killing tool. Adhiel weren't great athletes in general, and Finodborn particularly not.
Inspired by old stories and recent experiences, he decided to explore another possibility. Perhaps it was a remainder of the Arts that sought to reconcile with the Blood that ruled him these days. It was generally known that some of the great Bards used their voice to influence or even harm others. Finodborn's voice had no such potential as far as he knew, but he figured that the mindspeak he had learnt from the fae possibly did. Surely, there had to be a way to make greater use of these words that could be inserted directly into the minds of others. But what intrigued him even more was the potential use of imposing the perception of sounds on others. Finodborn knew music, so raw, odes to pain and despair, noise unbearable... Although these compositions had plagued him in his waking life as well as in his nightmares, the outer world had luckily been spared from them; Finodborn couldn't imagine an instrument or voice capable of physically manifesting these sounds.
This music had grown with him, new movements being written with every loss he suffered or pain he felt, and he had got used to his Nether music to a certain degree, as everybody does, he supposed. Should it be possible to concentrate these melodies - if they could be called that - and transfer them aggressively to somebody who had never been in contact with them before, he imagined he would be able to induce pain, madness, or maybe even take away somebody's will to live altogether. He had met the bardess Elaine, who had spoken about a Song that surpassed his comprehension at the time. Although he was certain that the song he tried to make now would surely be very different in harmony, he thought it would be alike in many other ways.

So when Eveningtides neared their end, Finodborn would mostly find himself in the woods, immerging himself with these frightening auditory thoughts, and searching for some of the more savage fae. Perhaps they could help him develop his hell music. Before going to sleep, he spent marks meditating every day, trying to cleanse himself of his own mind poison.
He looked for other teachers as well, but without high hopes: he expected little aid from the Shapers or other institutionalized magicians. If anybody would help him, he was well aware, it would be somebody who's doings were taboo.

Finodborn was convinced that it was all a matter of biding time; letting the intruders get at ease before relentlessly eradicating them.

OOC:
Skills I though of:
-Manipulation of Energy: Mindcraft ~ Apprentice**** (+4 *'s)
-Inner Calm ~ Apprentice ** (+1 *)
-Streetwise (ns)

In character, it is more plausible for Finodborn to become part of the resistance than to take any form of leading position in it, even though he is evolving into something entirely different.
I can also picture him as a lonely element, but I'd really like to see some more PC interaction for my character in the future; for me this, is priority number one.

The "Nether Song" thing I've tried to introduce could probably better be summarized in a Magical Talent or as a variation of Bardic Voice, but these are red skills.

[Gotham Devoue]

The war had been lost and with that the panlings home. It was a sad and depressing story for any who had died during the battles, however, it was even more dismal for the ones who had survived. Gotham did, and he wondered why.

The white knight and the rest of the encampment had been pushed back into the woods of the isle, and that’s where their new home was. The man was enraged by how other beings could simply cast others out like snuffing a candle. Sevti approached him one afternoon about going to the Citadel to protest, and the once crusader, dropped everything he was doing and decided to follow her to the enormous city.

There efforts weren’t in vain, but it was like skinning teeth to get what little outcome they did. Gotham didn’t speak much, or at all for that matter, he was there for more moral support than anything else. While he was there and Sevti voiced her passion and rage, all the man could see was the panlings littered around, deserted camps, and frenzied centaurs. All was a larger picture, and really, Gotham spat at it all.

The two had returned to Pan’s Isle with the hope of a new life for the denizens of the area. The adhiel had a treaty with the Oneists, and the man knew that they never lasted. Alliances were a fragile thing and little to nothing could shatter them like a pane of glass, and that was the main reason why he stood what sparse ground he was able to. Once they had returned, he showed Sevti the ways of weaponry and taught her what he knew. They bantered back and forth while practicing, but all the while Gotham’s mind turned over and over about the safety of the people. He remembered what had happened to Allegra and even the half-giant who had joined them in their many journeys. Which ever way one would have viewed there position, it wasn’t going to get any better.

After teaching the woman how to defend herself, he decided to go on a retreat into the world of Pan’s Isle. Along the way of finding himself and what seemed to him the heart of the island, he found his native friend; a squirrel named Squeaker. Reunited with his furry friend, the two camped out in the woods for several weeks, learning the way of survival and of a completely different world. Gotham regarded himself as a man of metal, versus a man of nature. By the time his retreat was over, the crusader was reminded that anyone could be brought back from the darkness that lives in everyone.

Skills:

Survival [forest] ~ Basic+* /+**
Swords, Two-handed ~ Basic+**** /+*
Knowledge [Navigate PI] ~ Basic+*** /+**
Animal Empathy ~ Basic /New skill!

I also need a squirrel added to my character sheet. Thanks!

[Guest]

Thyrennan knew Abeo was dead even before they set out to rescue him once more from the clutches of the Zealot of the One God. Perhaps it was the curse of his gift to know what should happen before it happened and the halfling kept the secret of Abeo buried inside his halfling heart knowing that it would crush Sevti. But there was one thing he saw; another thing that he dreaded most, he knew Sevti would have to die as well, the cards had decreed it, the Fates had dictated it. But he never told the Panling Woman, as much as he wanted to, he could never tell her as they set off to rescue Abeo, trailing behind her, looking up at her face, at her determination to save the one thing she truly love futile as it may seem. He could never tell her. It was her fate to die and it was his destiny to know it before it happened, a curse that he carried so painstakingly that he wept bitterly, silently, as he watched Sevti every night hoping to see the face of Abeo once more. It was then the Apostate of the One God decided to change Sevti’s fate, he would defy the very strings of Destiny and Fate that twined her. He knew the right moment, he had seen the symbols of event on his dream and he knew what to do. That very day of the event, as the Panling Woman cried over the dead body of Abeo inside the burned city that imprisoned him, Thyrennan was ready. It would take only a single nudge, a slight change for Sevti to live. He knew where it would come, he knew when it would come and on that instant of the event, the halfling priest changed her destiny and defied the Unknown Gods of Chance and Fate. But what was the price of that? What was the price of his defiance? Thyrennan wondered as he stared down at the sleeping form of Sevti, his brown eyes worried of what her fate would be and he could not tell. He had tried and every spread of the cards would only lead to the Unknown One, that single card on his deck that was blank, white as the clouds.

The secret was still locked within his heart as he traveled with Sevti to the Citadel. A fortress upon a rocky island and on that rock, he came upon a blind prophet, Brother Noland. He knew who Thyrennan was and the blind seer told him he had been waiting for the halfling, as were the twin gods of Fate and Chance: Ithrainne and Krynsathis. With awe, the halfling priest listened to his cryptic words, words that only a seer or a prophet could understand, words that brought symbols inside his mind and Thyrennen knew at last he had found his destiny and the Blind Prophet brought words of comfort to his lost heart. Brother Noland taught him who the Twin Gods were and his heart sang that he found his Unknown Gods at last, but what feared him the most was that if they would receive him for he had defied the very destiny and fate of Sevti. The Oracle Isle, that was what Brother Noland suggested, Thyrennan needed to go to Oracle Isle so he could talk to the High-Seeress. His days in the Citadel was learning from the feet of the Blind Prophet, he also met the High-Priest of Pan, the virtues Vanir and Pan’s handmaiden, Fialessa, a close acquaintance of Brother Noland.

Time moved on, as was its customary habit, Thyren left the rocky island of the Citadel together with Sevti and went back to Pan’s Isle. The small halfling watched and silently observed with his brown eyes the rebuilding of the island. He also watched how the Panling Woman tried to move on from the death of her beloved and his heart ached for his friend. But such was the wheel of Ithrainne -- the Wheel of Fate -- and the Dice of Krynsathis perpetually rolled over the affairs of men and women alike. Some of us will leave us and we are left behind with only a simple memory of what was. The Oracle Isle continued to call and sing inside his heart but he could never tell Sevti and leave her behind with her loss. He never told her of what he had done and of what he knew and he watched the affairs of the Panlings as the stars and the seasons moved.

Soon, it was time for him to move as was ordained by the Hand of Fate.
[hr][/hr]
Knowledge [Tarot Cards] - **
Mantra - **
Pray - ***
Theology - ***

[Tristam]

The battle for Pan's Isle was a chaotic and many sided affair that still remains a mystery even to those that fought in it. It started with a powerful assault by the Army of the One upon the ragged defenders of Gatetown. Though caught in cunning traps and whittled down by arrows, it was soon apparent that the heavily mailed soldiers would smash through the Panling lines. Then Finodborn called forth the might of the Fae Host. A rainbow of scintillating death and lethal mischief decimated the Oneist forces and sent them fleeing back to Aveas. Both sides were weakened and near defenseless but neither had the forces to take advantage.

Reinforcements poured in from the portals on both sides and again they met in battle, this time in the thin woods between Aveas and Gatetown. Once again the Oneists appeared to have the upper hand until on the eve of the battle, the forces of the Mouth just melted away into the forest and the dark adhiel arrived in force. The Oneist forces were crushed but the jubilation at the victory was short lived as the new Governor of Aveas Isle explained with what political coin the victory had been bought.

Many Panlings were simply too weary to fight any longer even against this injustice foisted on them in the name of peace. They did not have the stamina for rage and wished only to return to their lives of Art and Joy. These Panlings flocked to the new city that Sevti had won for them through their Ambassador at Citadel, Rosalie Lo Russo. It was named Seinor, New Day in Adhiel. The Fae of the Isle had opened the fringes of their wood to the displaced Panlings and there a small but growing town was shaped out of the trees. The Panlings found comfort in going back to nature in contrast to the mechanical minded Mouthies.

The month of Yulember was spent by Panling and Mouthie alike in rebuilding and preparation. Then in Darkenry, things changed. Those of the Blood never really considered the war over. Indeed bands of them still sniped at Mouthie interest whenever they could. Now that Seinor was established and the Artlings and Joylings were safe under the watch of the Fae, the Bloodlings left Seinor and joined the Centaurs in open resistance of the Mouthie government.

Finodborn was gladly welcomed by them and his plan for trying to blend in with the Mouthies to find weaknesses within attracted a few like minded adhiel. Anybody willing to work or seeking profit was welcomed back to Aveas. A shantytown in the nearby woods became the home of many laborers brought it to satisfy the demand for field hands and it was easy to blend in among them. Whimsy chose to travel with him though she wouldn't enter the city often. In the woods, she helped to train his bardic gifts though she seemed uneasy at the path he was taking.

Sevti found herself a pillar of the community that existed only because of her. Several paintings and statues of her laying the first cornerstone or other such fictional Founder's Day events were popular subjects for Art. Paloma took the mantle of High Priestess at last and was glad to train Sevti in the ways of Pan's worship. Sevti knew Paloma to be divided by her duty to her people. She often talked of joining the resistance but feared for the town's stability if she left. Thyren was welcomed by the Panlings as one of their own and his time is Seinor passed pleasantly enough. During his time there, Thyren made the acquaintance of a Pooka that kept an eye on the growing town. This Fae, Gwyllin by name, saw the mark of the Trickster upon Thyren and was intrigued. From this friendly spirit, Thyren learned that those that walk the paths of Fate always end up where they are needed so choices were never a thing to fear or even to worry about them. Just make them and trust to the road. Before leaving to walk his own path, Gwyllin presented Thyren with a new card to add to his deck, a shimmering mirror. "Whenever this card appears, look to yourself for the answers." Then he faded away.

Gotham found solace and wisdom aplenty in the deeper woods. Whatever direction he chose led him to splendid natural beauty or nature red in tooth in claw. In fact, many of the scenes about him mirrored the tensions within and this was no coincidence. Though he knew it not, Gotham was pixie-led on many an occasion either to teach him lessons or for simple amusement. Pan's Isle had decided to accept him despite his origins and rewarded his decision with a glimpse into the lifeforce of the isle. There would always be a little of the wild in his heart and on his shoulder in the form of Squeeker.

Feel free to post in Chyril and to respond here with any outstanding Recess issues.

[wyrdgirluk]

It wasn’t easy to lose a small contingent of centaurs and elves, but somehow Scatha had managed it. Daunted by the prospect of leading the motley collection of Pan’s Isle inhabitants, she had wandered off into the woods to clear her head and try and decide what to do next. And then – she had lost them.

It was ridiculous, in hindsight. Scatha hardly ever got lost when wandering her homelands of Dort, and even when she did occasionally mislay her way, it was easy enough to find it again by re-tracing her steps. But here… there was something odd about the place. It seemed that whatever she did, whatever path she took, she seemed to end up further and further away from her charges. She could hear them calling for her, and she called back, and started towards the voices… but when she did, for some inexplicable reason the voices seemed further away when they next called, until eventually they vanished altogether, and Scatha was left alone in the woods. Well, not entirely alone; she couldn’t help feeling that someone – or something – was in the woods with her, something that was taking a great deal of amusement in leading her astray. As she walked through the seemingly endless woodlands, she kept catching glimpses of whatever it was through the trees – an animal of some kind, for it had horns, although at other times she thought it might be a man, a giant of some kind, wearing odd furry breeches. Whatever it was, it had cloven hooves… and it was big, judging by the marks it left in the earth.

Whatever-it-was stayed with her until the first shadows fell, and the birdsong and hum of insects ended… and then the music began, someone playing on pipes, thin and reedy, a simple tune carelessly played, becoming faster and wilder. The sound make her heart race and her blood pound, and for a flicker Scatha had to fight the urge to panic and run from the music; you’re being ridiculous, she told herself angrily, her heart beating like a drum in time to the shrill pipes. You a daughter of the Mother, marked by Her as one of her own.. And that thought seemed to calm her, and the whatever-it-was that was playing the music, until the dark wood was still again and Scatha felt very, very tired. She found a glade, wrapped herself in her cloak, and slept for what seemed a thousand yahern.

When she awoke, it seemed that whatever-it-was had gone, and that the woods were themselves again, and that it was a simple matter of finding her way back out of the woods. And when she did, she found that she hadn’t slept for a thousand yahern... she’d slept for a week. Seven days had passed since she’d wandered into the woods to think, and the centaurs and elves had thought she’d been captured, or slain. In the time that the battle between the inhabitants of Pan’s Isle and the followers of the One God had been fought, and the great war had ended… and Scatha had slept right through it. It was all extremely vexing.

Still, she did her best to help out – tending the wounded, helping bury the dead, and to mend those things that were broken (buildings, bones and hearts) as best she could. Other news came; the isle had a new name, the King was slain, and the fox-like man had become Caesarii. Scatha shed a few tears for Balthasar – an opportunity to be a princess lost – and offered a prayer for the imperial chicken house.

The days passed, and the isle and its inhabitants seemed to return to some degree of normality, giving Scatha time to think about what she should do next – although this time, she chose not to walk in the woods to do it.

Pan’s Isle was a beautiful place, she had to agree – everything seemed to flourish there, as if the Mother has decided to bestow Her own favourite blessing upon it. It would be a good place to settle, Scatha decided; good soil, good farmland. Yet there was a vague restlessness in her, like an itch in her head that she couldn’t quite scratch, something that whispered you’re not ready for the firehearth yet…

The solution was simple: Scatha was stay on the isle, and seek employment in the newly named city of Aveas.