Dort Summary - Please post your recess write ups here

[Vanadius]

FROM: Johan von Bleib Heir

TO: Duke Erwin von-zu Dort-Billigh

Chyril 21st, 1225 AD

My Lord,

In our last correspondence, you requested a full report on the status of Islay, and the isle of Dort in general. I have endeavored to make a full report after time spent with your Steward, Lord is Mein, and I have complied the following;

Over the past several weeks, the tension between the established representatives of Dortenese government and the representatives of the Highlander clans has been steadily growing. Since the destruction of the Dyimmorryd fortress and of the demon called Prorubria, the clans have been clamoring for a bigger bite of the apple as it were, and will be seeking to meet with you at your earliest convenience. Their chief representative, the Shaman Milkhaire, is an odd fellow. He seems to lack all ability to speak verbally, but I assure you that he is quite eloquent and well spoken in his own unique way. His personal staff seems well versed in his mannerisms, and can impart and translate what the Shaman says quite effectively. In my dealings with him over the past few weeks, I have grown quite accustomed to communicating with him, and I believe we share a rapport previously unknown with the Clans. The Shaman’s desire to create an independent Highlander nation is incredibly strong, and given the fact that they united under his leadership and slew Prorubria, I believe it’s high time that we begin to discuss giving them some measure of what they seek. The tension grows because I can give them little by way of a full and formal answer. Dein is Mein and I have both come to the consensus that unless something is done to appease them, they may yet strike again, only this time against the isle en masse. Perhaps Mairi can somehow speak with them and broker some sort of arrangement. Something will need to be done rather quickly unless we manage to delay them further. I look forward to your reply and instructions regarding this urgent matter.

In regards to Captain Tosca and the Red Bear battalion, it seems that the hunt for the Captain is still ongoing. I don’t know how he’s managed to elude capture since Samheen, but he remains at large. It’s my strong suspicion that he has received some assistance from an unknown benefactor and has escaped the island somehow. Nearly every other member of the Red Bears is in custody, and Captain Kragen remains diligent in his efforts to extract information from the captured members. I’m sure he’ll have a more thorough, detailed report for you upon your arrival.

Brother Pietro sent me a missive in regards to the Abbey and receiving a great deal of pressure from the Lord Northmarch. It seems Northmarch is up to his old tricks, and is intent on taxing the Abbey fully, and threatening severe sanctions if his tributes are not properly received. I swear I don’t know what that man is all about. I think he needs to be taken down a peg or two. I myself have been in contact with the Abbey, and have visited several times over the last few weeks in my travels back and forth to meet Milkhaire, and the Brothers and Sisters have been nothing but kind and respectful.

There is a bit of sad news to report. Captain Jared Willows, my friend and leader of the Islay Brigade has succumbed to the injuries he received during the last wolf attack. He was a strong man, and held on for nearly three weeks before perishing two nights ago. The wolves have been growing bolder in recent days, and I have promoted Lieutenant Craigh to Captain to deal with them. You’ll remember Craigh, he was the one that thought Tosca had killed, but was returned and kept alive by the Adhiel. Craigh is stronger than ever, and is highly motivated to trap and kill the entire pack. Services for Willows will be held tomorrow night. I hope you will attend, but I understand if you cannot.

The rebuilding of Islay seems to be going well. There were some problems with getting supplies and materials due to problems at the docks, but that seems to have worked itself out with the new agreement with Jubal. I agree with your assessment that the man is shady and rather uncouth, but I have to admit that he and his people have done a masterful job of running the docks in both Islay and Dort, and although he seems to be making a great deal of coin, at the very least, we can say that the issues of dealing with Jubal are much less than they ever were compared to the problems we had with Eventree. I don’t miss that man at all. People are beginning to move back to Islay, and just yesterday I saw children playing in the street again. All in all, I think we are well on our way to a full recovery. There was even a fresh batch of whiskey that I sampled this morningtide. It’s rough and has a bit too much mash and meal, but I was encouraged enough to keep funding their efforts.

I look forward to speaking with you in person to over these things in finer detail for a more thorough and complete exchange, and to our regular outings once more. I have a fine new falconer who is teaching me the finer points, and perhaps now I’ll be able to compete.

Your humble Servant,

J.


~~~

Please post your recess write ups here for skilling and review. if you have any questions, please feel free to post them here as well. I tried to take a different path from some of the other summary threads you'll be reading, so if you need further clarification, please let me know.


I look forward to seeing the changes and new directions that you and your characters will be taking!

V.

[Gaelena]

When one is raised in peace and tranquility, its difficult to imagine how bloody war can be. But when it lands in one’s front yard, its hard to ignore. Thus, the calm, peace-loving healer found herself elbow deep in war blood at the massacre at Aveas portal. She probably should have stayed in her neat, orderly hospice, but as it was, there was no way she was going to let anyone simply die when there was a chance she might save them. So, out to the battlefield she ran, salves and bandages at hand.

Soon, her gown was no longer grass green, but covered in the blood of Oneists and Imperialists alike. To each person she went, trying to staunch wounds and ease pain where she went. Some, she was able to save. Others were not so lucky. As one lay dying before her, the knife she had used to try and pry the arrow from his chest laying at his side, soaked in blood, rough hands grabbed her from behind and in the struggle, Gaelena was knocked unconscious. When she awoke, she was bound and in a make-shift prison of the Imperial army. She was left there overnight.

The next day, she was awoken by a loud voice. Rough hands once again handled her, until she was set before an older man, wearing the marks of a General in the Imperial army. He began to question her. Why was she there? Who did she work for? Was she trying to steal from the dead? The last question angered her. She answered truthfully. She was there to help. She didn’t work for anyone. She was just a healer. She didn’t care who was in pain, if they needed her help, she would help. The questioning continued until a soldier moved into the tent and handed the general a note. The man was quiet for a few flickers before standing and commanding the men who had brought her before him to pick her up and bring her with them. She struggled only for a little bit, then gave up, being weak with hunger. She also didn’t recognize their location (having been unconscious when they entered Gulandur).

After a few burns, they entered a white tent, where the smell of blood and death was readily apparent. Moving to one cot where a soldier lay under a crisp white blanket, she was made to stand at the foot of the bed. The man, she would later find out, was a lieutenant in the army. He had spoken in his delirium of a red-haired angel who saved him from the Nether with sweet words of encouragement. His soldiers had found him on the field, his wounds dressed, stitched up neatly, only a hint of a fever on his brow. Once moved to the medical tent, it was found that if she had not stitched him when she had, his wound would have been fatal. A few of the other soldiers, ones who had survived, echoed his words. She was not a killer, but a savior.

The general wasn’t exactly thrilled with this knowledge, but knowing that it would be better to put her to work than keep her locked up, he set her to work in the medical tent, under the watchful eye of one of the dark adhiel’s. She worked tirelessly, stitching, cleaning, bandaging, with never a complaint. She would often sing as she worked, to help ease the pain by taking her patients’ minds off their pain. From the dark adhiel, she learned some new poisons and how they could be used for both evil and good, as many had double uses. Some could be used to ease the pain, while others were used to put dying soldiers out of their misery. Finally, the soldiers were to be moved back to Dort. She had the choice of staying at this hospice or moving with the wounded. She thought it would be best to stay with them, so that when they arrived at the main hospital in Dort, the doctors would know what treatment the soldiers had already received.

Once there, Gaelena set about learning everything she could from the healers at the Abbey while continuing her work with the soldiers. Before long, she was allowed to move freely about Dort, her vigilance to her work proving her to be trustworthy to the military.

[hr][/hr]
Skill Summary

Poison Lore-***
Healing (Non-Magical)-**
Herbal Lore [healing]-**
Native Craft (Sewing)-**
Singing-*

[Gavin Tylvan]

There was pain and darkness, and then something else. And it did not seem like death to him. First of all he was hurting all over and then he could smell and hear birds chirping around him. There were no birds in the forest. Were there? Of course not. Not the chirping variety. It was then that he opened his eyes and found himself laying on soft grass, with sun slanting through the green canopy of leaves. He was alive, or at least in some sort of afterlife. At least I am not in Nether..

With a lot of groaning and even a few curses, Gavin rose and tried to get his bearing. He was in the middle of the forest, with the nature around him reminding him of Dort, though it was not quite the same. It was simply too flat to be Dort. And since simply standing around like that would do him no good he licked a finger and rose it up, and moved upwind, which in this case was northeast. If he was going to run into any trouble he wanted to be able to smell it before it came his way.

Luckily it was not trouble, but the scent of smoke that he felt coming upon a small hut in the forest, a trail leading further north from there. An elderly woman sat before the house, rocking in a chair and sang, focused on the sweater she was knitting. A polite cough was all it took for him to get her attention and then he introduced himself, and learned that he was on the entirely different continent. King's Court was half a day's journey north from the little hut and the lady was Martha Durnam, living there with her husband James.

When James showed up Gavin explained his predicament and was quite ready to leave should they ask him to do so, but the old man did something entirely different. They were living alone ever since their son was drafted a couple of months ago. He had been killed in the battle of Taloh and now they were left all alone. While he did not want to impose, Gavin had no other choice. So it was that he stayed with the elderly couple for a while helping them around the farm, and effectively filling the role their son had in the life of the farm.

And even though the peaceful life was doing him good, and he would have been happy to stay there for a while longer, there was something real important he had to do. He had to find Syrawenn. And the chances of her simply walking into the clearing were slim to none. He had pondered it for a while and the best place to start his search would have been to go back to Hafne and seek out that lady mage who had sent them to that strange place where the trees crushed him. She had a lot of explaining to do, and she better be able to help him find Syra. And Amber and Gwayne. For her own good.

So, it has been with a heavy heart that he bid farewell to Durnam's and started a trek towards the King's Court, hoping that he would be able to find some sort of transportation back to Dort. He could always hire himself out as a mercenary or something or earn his passage by doing something on the ship.

It had slipped his mind entirely that there might have been some war and that he might have landed in the enemy territory and stuff like that. Luckily for him ,the city was in the state of chaos and he managed to bluff his way in. But, instead of a quick way home he was forced to stay a bit longer. He used the following month doing odd jobs to earn his food and slowly moving up the ladder. Starting as a bouncer in a tavern, he used the money that got him to buy himself a crossbow, pondering that it would be easier to learn how to use that than an ordinary bow. You just point and press the trigger and poof. Instant hole in something.

Soon it was put to good use, the big warrior reverting to his early forgotten favorite past-time. He hunted in the nearby forests and when he came back after a few weeks, he had earned enough not to simply pay for the trip back, but to even travel in style. Things have settled down somewhat, the people no longer so hostile to pagans and Empire and he decided to spend his hard earned money to pay for a modest cabin on a Citadel bound ship. From there it would be much easier to find a ship going to Hafne.

He never knew how boring the ship voyage could be, though he spent it out on the deck as much as he could. After a while sailors discovered his penchant for story-telling and there were many a night he had sat on the coil of rope, surrounded by off-duty seamen telling them tales he had heard and listening to some of their own. His own rather limited vision of the world expanded, as he learned of the battle under the eaves of the gigantic forest of Taquar, the siege of King's Court, battle of Brie. And while he knew the way stories tended to exaggerate the truth in some aspects, it was still useful knowledge.

The big warrior did not linger in the Citadel, leaving after only two days, aboard a ship carrying tools and lumber needed for the rebuilding of his home town. And the closer he got to his final goal, or rather the start of his search for his friends, the more anxious he was. He remembered the way Hafne looked when last he saw it. How much did they rebuild? Where is Liana? And the others? Is the Count still there?


Hunting+**
Tracking+**
Grappling+*
Crossbow-Basic

[Syrawenn]

Gone.
As usual.

Teeth gnashing and fists curling the young girl had to accept the fact that not only had Gavin done something drastically stupid –if only she could remember what!- but her memory was showing holes when it came to the entire trip between Hafne and King’s Court! What had posessed her to move back to where her family dwelled?

Of course there had been Gwayne with promises of life and searches. The eternal optimistic attitude did nothing for the simple facts that had been lain out for Syrawenn to see: it was her dreams all over again. This was the Dream of the Seer. This was the part where they got seperated. Amber might turn against them. Gavin and the others would get hurt. Her stomach churned at the thought, yet it brought a strange kind of comfort as well: if this was anything like her dreams, Gavin was still alive, somewhere.

And yet...maybe she should not find him, give him the chance to live undisturbed. After all: finding him was going to set things in motion again. But what was the dream? This? What they just experienced? By now waking and dreaming were equally weird with their magics, gods and interfering creatures. There was no way to seperate them.

Then perhaps there was no reason to fear either one.

Too bad that little rationalization did not do much for her mood. Instead it ended in the girl having to pay up heavily for the furniture she ruined in the inn and having to take care of a black eye in the process. How was she to know that it was not the Seven Isles she had landed in? By now she had been transported back and forth so many times that it was only reasonable people would at least grant her a little leeway when making the wrong comment on the wrong continent!

Parchment after parchment was filled with echoes and images of lives that did not seem to be hers. Faces wanted to be drawn. Trees wanted to be seen. It was a huge difference from the easy sketching the girl had done so far. Suddenly it became important to catch moments as lifelike a they were lest she forget them again.

Once she realized she was in fact not that far from King’s Court, it was time to start thinking of leaving in all earnest. This was not the place where she was going to find out about Gavin, even if she was going to stay away from him to keep him alive. She still wanted to know how he was! Next to that it could not be a good thing to be close to her birthtown. What if her parents –or the demons forbid SEAN- would find her? Another try at a forced marriage was going to end in bloodshed and the girl was not so sure whether it was going to be hers again.

And yet...

Too tempting.

The girl just had to find out whether her parents were still alive. She doubted Sean would be anywhere near. Her brother always had 'better things to do' after all, enjoying his career with Dominicus' armies. Besides, since when was he ever paying attention to the world around him?

Syrawenn gambled and went into town. It was tricky to keep a low profile when all she really wanted to do was walk up to her father and rub her being alive in his nose! Yet the thought of having to face her mother, who had done nothing to keep her safe and yet kept her alive...there were too many contradictions.

They were alive.
Her father still preaching on every occasion he could, despite the lack of actual church-position; her mom still hiding in the house...with two kids the youngster had never seen before.

Oh yes, there was envy when she watched the little ones frollick with their mother -with her mother. There was jealousy when they jumped up at their father. Had things changed so much? Why had Syrawenn not been allowed such silly little things? Had they actually learned from everything that happened?

Her father turned and gazed out over the streets, eyes squinting as he searched for...something. His eyes moved up to the heavens. Lips moved, then pursed in a thin line.

Syrawenn withdrew around the corner, crossing her fingers that he'd not spotted her.
She knew that look.
Nothing had changed.

These little ones were going to be little Seans. They were going to be the children her parents could be proud of. Life moved on as it should; not a life she belonged in. It was very strange to feel out of place, out of time, ripped out of the fabric she should have fitted into.
But never did.

Maybe that had triggered all the insanity of timetravel and dreamstuff. Maybe she never belonged in this world at all.

It was time to leave.

Off to another boattrip it was, a strange echo of her trip so long –or not that long?- ago. Posing as a boy only got her that far. It was infinitely annoying that with her 15th birthday around the before last day of the before last month a small growspurt followed in an area where she could have well done without.

As such it did not take long for one crewmember to make a remark towards her slightly bulging shirt, which earned him several plates thrown at his head. Luckily the ship’s cook did not want any more cutlery and pottery to suffer and made sure Syrawenn could remain ‘Wender’, the cook’s help, if only for show.

Determined to make it to Hafne without having to swim half of the way the girl managed to keep her temper under moderate control –not counting the kicks she got in when the situation warranted it.

If there was any justice in the world, Gavin would be as logical as she thought him to be and would indeed be in the city where they somehow got seperated. With a good chance that whatever she thought might exist betwen them was no more than a childish fantasy, Syrawenn made very sure to inquire after the man without actually wanting to walk into his arms. Time was her friend right now and time was going to give her the chance to fill in the insane gaps in her memory. It scared the living daylights out of her not to be able to trust her mind. Perhaps time would also tell whether this was a dream or actual waking life. Perhaps it would even show her that her friends had moved on with their lives.

Perhaps she didn’t want to find out.
Suddenly beer sounded like the solution to everything.
Lotsa beer.

Time to find an inn.

Cooking + **
Native craft [charcoal drawing] + * (which moves it to apprentice, or I would have put in more stars )
Rote memorization + ***
Throwing weapons + **
Bartering + *
Gambling + *

[Turi]

Coda

The Red Bears eventually caught Turelie out, which wasn't unexpected. The time that followed was not pleasant, but in the end, she stayed awake long enough to see Kragen arrive. It was immensely satisifying.

***

Aaand, that's all from me about Turi. A huge thanks to all the wonderful people I've had the privilege to play with over the past year - Ashtallion, Aurael, Daithi, Draydis, Enzirou, Eivlys, Fiera, Gavin, Niamh, Niccolo, Ranhilde, Talanwei... I think that's all of you...

Oh, how could I forget Vanadius? Thank you for overseeing my angsty little book-keeper's misadventures right from the beginning. Thank you for an interesting, unpredictable, challenging ride. Thank you for broadening my horizons a little, and for putting up with my blatherings .

And to all the Dort players, old and new: I'll see you when I get back !

[Gwayne of Vendeling]

Choices, there are many. And as usual the Goddess presented them in a nice way the Gwayne. He had no choice at all. Gavin was gone, Amber somewhere else and he knew that Syrawenn would start running after he would have spoken his last word.

He told her that he would find Gavin, and that they would come together again somehow. He secretly hoped that Amber would also appear there, but about that he was not so sure. He told Syrawenn that Milkhaire would help them and she could contact him if she wanted to talk to him. Syrawenn was gone before he closed his mouth.

He could follow Syrawenn of course, but would it solve anything with the restless youngster who probably concluded that she had lost her love, and had enough of people telling her what to do. And who could blame her, this kind of freedom had its price though. Loneliness would be her share. Leaning on the huge sword he watched the small back of the girl disappearing. He felt sad, but he had a lot to do.

For him, he just knew that whatever would happen the best place to start his search for Gavin... and where Syrawenn would return would be Dort. The Goddess would guide them there, and if not... they would do it themselves. He was sure about that. He was the Goddess servant and he would see them again.

Gwayne did not remember much about what happened, some nightmares about being called Elias and grumpy ship captains until he finally arrived at the beach where it all began. He searched for the remains of the swan maiden Aetya. The battle scars where still visible on the mothers body, but somehow most holy stones where still standing. The war had moved on although the warriors had taken their own later on. They had been in such a hurry that the remains of the swan maiden had still been there, hidden below some bushes and dishonored by animals. It took him several days to collect the remains of her body and to find the shattered parts of her sword. Then a few days to build a funeral fire big enough to honour her. The fire was large and hot, but not as hot as the fire in his heart. He had a big sword now, and although he was not that great with it, he would do her honour with it. The sword was standing at the edge of the fire, as Gwayne would call it Aetya from now on. When the morning finally broke the young man moved away, picking up the equipment and his spear that was hidden there. Moving towards the clans, while hunting for food and searching for water, took him several days.

The nights where still filled with vivid nightmares, the name Elias and murderer filling them, making his sleep a ordeal in itself. He was al but worn out when he arrived at Milkhaire's doorstep. At his place the young man had his first dreamless sleep. That morning he had a long talk with Milkhaire, and although the wise seemed to know many things he was very interested in the dreams he had and all that happened with him, Syrawenn and Gavin. To release all his frustration, anger and fear Gwayne told everything, the man just nodded. After that he asked Milkhaire for support, people to look out for Gavin and Syrawenn if they would set foot on the island again. Milkhaire just smiled and nodded, over the next days people informed people about Gavin and Syrawenn.

For Gwayne had a important job to to to search for clues in his dreams of the whereabouts of the demoness Prorubria. Although he had the feeling that Milkhaire was just as aware of his dreams. It took several weeks to find the place. Gwayne struggling with his own demons as much as the demoness herself who used her powers to taunt him, to make him insecure about his relation with the Goddess. Trying to lure him into the safety of her arms, dreams and strength. So he seemed to give in and she called him to her, not knowing that Milkhaire was following the young Adhiel so when she spoke the words “I knew you would come to me one day” over the back of the young man kneeling at her feet. Milkhaire stepped out of the shadows that had followed Gwayne all the days that he was running towards his doom, and he destroyed her. Her curses being swallowed up by the fire's surrounding her.

Gwayne was exhausted, his mind and body both at the edge of their existence but Milkhaire brought him back, and the priestesses of the mother took care of both. He used the time he had to recover. Always asking about information about his friends, but receiving non. He trained weaponry with the clansman and the priestesses would help with being at peace with himself. Although what probably helped him most was talking with the children around there.

Then at a early morning Milkhaire told him “Go to Hafne.” And the young man went, he picked up his equipment and ran off, just to bump into Amber who came for Milkhaire.

It brought a stupid grin on his face to meet the first of the few so fast again..


Skills:

Hunting+** *
Vestments [Mother Nature] +*
Swords, Two-handed +**
Pray +*
Singing +*
Smaller Blades +**

[Ilaria da'Margeir.]

Samheen

Ilaria chose to leave the Abbey for the rest of Samheen, feeling that she could do more good outside the Abbey, rather than inside. Percy graciously offered up a room in his house, which Ilaria gladly accepted. She spent her mornings talking with people around the village, gathering bits of information here and there when she could. Her afternoons were spent entertaining Percy's flock of children, who regarded her as some kind of fascinating new toy. Ilaria was used to such attention, and reveled in it. She helped out around the house to earn her keep, constantly watching out for new ways to cook or use herbs. Ilaria began to feel content, which worried her. It was almost like the calm before the storm, and as usual, she was right.

Yulember and Darkenry

The winds of Yulember blew in bad news for Ilaria. Three people of her Clan, including her beloved mentor, had died in the last weeks of Samheen. Ilaria took her leave of Dort for the time being and returned to her homeland, only to find that her beloved father had died as well. Unsure of how to express her grief, Ilaria turned inward, spending most of her days in solitude, wandering about the Temple of the Ice Queen. The children of the Clan were taken aback by this new Ilaria who wouldn't play with them or tell them stories. Eventually, they left her alone with her grief. News of the civil war that was brewing in Trothgard didn't even penetrate the new wall that surrounded her.

From sunrise to sunset, Ilaria lay prostrate off to the side in front of the tapestries, praying to the Ice Queen. Unable to move her, the priestesses left her alone, as she wasn't really causing anyone harm. When sunset arrived, Ilaria wordlessly rose and went back to her bed, speaking to no one. As soon as the sun rose, she walked back to the Temple, starting the cycle all over again. For a month and a half Ilaria repeated this pattern, to no avail. Just as she was about to give up, Ilaria received a message, or so she thought. Something told her to return to the Abbey and complete her tasks, and only then would she find her answers. Even though she felt that this wasn't enough of an answer, it was a start for her. She spent the next few days conversing with the priestesses, trying to figure out what was in store for her. They gave her no other answers except "return to the Abbey". Accepting her fate, Ilaria slowly became her old self again, laughing and telling stories. When Chyril arrived, Ilaria knew that she must leave her people once again and return to the Abbey.

Chyril

Ilaria returned to Dort feeling like she had direction once again. She stopped to visit Percy and his family before going to the Abbey. Upon her return, Ilaria spent her time talking with the Brothers and Sisters of the Abbey, learning what she could about its history. A sense of urgency filled her, as if it was of the utmost importance that things were finished right this moment, or else disaster would strike. Not knowing what to do, Ilaria set out, more determined than ever to get her answers.

Skills
Pray-Basic
Knowledge (Abbey History)*
Theology**
Inner Calm*
Herbal Lore (Dort)*

[Draydis Quinn D`Anorre]

ooc: There are several small stories below. Some of them overlap in time, some do not. I felt that writing it this way helped to show all the different things that went on in Dray's life during the break.

Skill Adjustments:
Taunting +* = Basic +**
Detect Truth +** = Apprentice
Resolve +** = Apprentice
Two Weapon Fighting +*** = Apprentice
Persuade +* = Apprentice
Crowd Control +* = Apprentice

Memories turned to Darkness:
The days after the visit to the Aether realms grew dark for Draydis. It was the voice of the old oak tree that had sparked the darker thoughts in his mind. The tree had talked of the Mother and the cycles of life. The adhiel that were trapped beneath the glassy surface of the aether world were no longer lives, but mere food for the trees. The trees used the food to grow and develop their own. It was true...the Mother cared not except that the cycle of life persisted. No one could resist that force...they could only take their part in the process.

The war of the One, the fighting against the demons, and the clashes between men all proved that it was indeed a time of winter. The time of the Crone was upon the world, and Draydis felt strongly compelled to be Her messenger. This was truly to be his role. Alantha Darkstar had spoken about the Crone and the dark ways of the Mother when she had first met Draydis. At first, he was to be her guard...but over time, he grew in his thirst to become ever closer to the Crone.

Normally, one being consumed by darkness brings about feelings of hatred, fury, anger, and destruction. As the shadows drew across the face and soul of Draydis, he felt himself growing in a sense of peace. It was as if this new role was one that he was perfectly fit for. It was the reason She created him. A path of carnage would be left in his wake, and the toll would be created in the name of the Crone. However, he first had to pray for faith, guidance, knowledge, and the means by which Her will would be unleashed...

Training the Soldiers:
His days were spent partially by helping to train the army of the Count and scouting the area. This is when he continued to work at fighting with a weapon in each hand. The fighting style adopted by Draydis was one of quick strikes, acrobatic maneuvers, and almost began to appear like a dance. He often thought of how the leaders of the Guard had fought against the orcs when he had first signed up to serve. During his practice these days, he attempted to mimic those moves in hopes of becoming a master of war.

The men were usually well behaved, though occasionally, when the lessons became difficult, their attention began to wane. Several of the other instructors taught Dray different methods by which he could control the masses. He found that with these tricks, his words were generally enough to get the training back on track.

Learning Control:
Another part of the day was spent talking with the soldiers. He learned a lot about how to manipulate men by using their wants and needs to his own advantage. At the same time, he learned more about detecting untruths by watching body language, listening to the way words are spoken, and using common sense.

A Pathway to the Crone:
Though there was much sweat and effort put into helping with the military post, a bulk of Dray's attention was dedicated to silent prayer to the Crone. When he walked within the camp, regardless of how short a distance, his thoughts were on Her. Everything he did, everywhere he went, his focus was on an attempt to connect with Her in any way possible.

The middle of the night always brought about a journey into the woods. He went to the clearing where he had first met Alantha. It had been the first point in this part of the world where he had felt the presence of the Mother. There, he constructed a small shrine to the Crone, and went there nightly to pray and seek guidance. Often during these times, with only the moon to light the ground, Dray practiced a meditative dance with his swords as part of the ritual. He felt that if he were to be an assassin for the Crone, that he had to keep his mind, body, and spirit all in perfect shape. In an effort to draw even nearer to the Mother of the earth, he would remove his armor, and cover himself in the damp, cold soil from the forest floor. The smells of nature would assault his senses as his silver blades flashed through the darkness. To an observer, it would appear to be a strange ritual, but to Draydis, it was his way of connecting with the Mother Crone. Many nights passed without even a slight sense that the Crone heard his prayers, but the guardsman was resolute in his efforts to make a connection. He wanted to be sure that the Crone knew that his desire to be her paladin...her holy assassin...was not just a passing desire.

After many additional nights of prayers, and after talking with Thran about the mission to find a demon-slayer blade given to him by the Mother's Avatar, Draydis began to think about all the times he had received the Mother's blessings. Not once had he carried an enchanted blade. All he was armed with was an ordinary weapon, and a steadfast dedication to his faith. Slowly, he realized that the magical blade he was seeking was not necessary...his faith was a more terrifying weapon than any sword could ever be. With this new realization, Draydis changed his prayers. He no longer asked the Crone to aid him in finding a weapon to prove his worth to Her. Instead, he simply held firmly onto his faith and asked Her for guidance. The nightly ventures into the woods continued, and every night, his prayers seemed to go unanswered.

During his evening prayers in the woods, Draydis prayed over all his weapons and armor, covering them in soil and leaves so that the earth essence of the Mother Crone might permeate their surfaces. If faith were to be his primary weapon, then he wanted everything he carried to be touched in some way by this faith. There would be a way for him to find Her in this land...and he kept his senses sharp for any sign that something worked. His faith was strong, and he was determined to find Her there. The adhiel commander remembered how he was set out by the Avatar to find a way to destroy Blayvanna. He remembered how he had learned how to pick up information from listening to the woods and smelling the odors that were present there. The Mother Crone was here with him...of this, he was certain. He just needed to learn how to listen properly.

A Brother Reappears:
Thrandil appeared in Dort shortly after Dray had returned from the Aether realm. They talked about their experiences since they had seen each other last in Taquar. Draydis told his sworn brother of his mission given to him by the Avatar of the Mother to find a swordsmith that could make a blade that could destroy demons. The Avatar had told him upon his completed mission, that the status of paladin would be granted to him. He told Thran about the swords carried by Galliban and how they ignited with the power of Illuminatus. He knew that a blade dedicated to the Crone would be needed in his battles to come. It was later, during a late evening prayer, that Draydis came to his realization that the weapon was not what made the paladin…it was the faith. His plan of finding a weaponsmith was abandoned immediately, and he prayed to the Crone to beg for Her to forgive him for straying from the right path.

It was also at this time that Thrandil suggested they help to eliminate the Wolves with Captain Craigh leading the charge. He was almost insistent with the Captain when he discussed assisting them with this endeavor.

Dray and Thran also decided they would aid the soldiers with the final eliminations of the Red Bear clan members, as it seemed that the clan could cause the entire land to fall into instability. There was somebody that was still backing the clan, it would seem, and a hunter was needed to find their hiding place.

Their goal was to help stabalize the region, and then set off together to find the disbanded Emerald Guardsmen in hopes of forming a travelling legion of soldiers that would search out evil in the world and eliminate it. At the insistence of Thran, they also sought out Elevie...Thran's true love.

A New Warrior Emerges:
Over a period of months, his personality began to change. Where the friendly guardsman once was, he now appeared dark and sinister. Though cold in his attitude, Dray spoke highly of honor, duty, integrity, justice, and faith. His friends were still treated as friends, however few things made him laugh. Where he was openly friendly before, Dray now held his tongue, smiled rarely, and had an aura of darkness about him. In fights, he taunted his opponents and ridiculed them when they made a mistake. Their end was lethal and quick.

Dreams of the Tormented:
His dreams were times of torment; constantly having the same vision haunt his sleep. The bodies of thousands of adhiel trapped beneath the glassy ground screamed out in his dreams. Winter was upon the land...their deaths were just one example of many wrongs brought about in the world. It was the time of the Crone, and Her message would be clear.

These days, the things that went bump in the night were more than just stories to scare the children...

[Amber Kynterle]

When Amber saw Gavin – the big, strong man that she’d quickly grown to love since coming to know him – crushed by a massive, moving tree in the Aether, her entire life was changed. At first, she was simply shocked. But as she watched his body carried off to the gods knew where, she began to feel the pain. The grief, the fear, the loneliness. In that moment, she despaired. She thought that neither she, nor any of her friends, would survive this horrible realm in the Aether they’d been brought to, that they would all die there, just like Gavin had. For if Gavin could be killed, how did the rest of them stand any chance?

But when she stopped to think about it, she began to realize something. Why would the trees have bothered to carry off Gavin’s body if he was dead? Maybe… maybe he’d only been wounded. It was a small hope, a fool’s hope, but it was all she had. She clung to it so that she didn’t have to face the other option: to simply give up and die there in the Aether.

She had barely started her search for answers when she suddenly found herself back in the waking world, though for a time, she believed herself to still be in the Aether. But when she realized that she was, in fact, back on Islay, not far from where she’d been when Gavin and herself and the rest of her friends had been sucked through a portal into that terrible place, she surmised that the others, Gavin included, might have been brought back as well. She had to find them. She wanted to find Gavin most of all, for despite the fact that he’d chosen Syrawenn over herself, she still love him.

The fighting that had been taking place on Islay before she left was now in full scale, although it seemed things had changed. There was talk of fighting a demon and her forces, and of pursuing the Red Bears, and of trying to hunt down Captain Tosca, the man the she herself had offered to help bring down, in order to prove herself to Gavin. But none of that was important to her right now. She had to find Gavin.

She went to the first person she could think of, in Hafne, the woman they’d been speaking to just moments before the portal sucked them into the Aether. She knew the most about the stones, perhaps she could tell where Gavin had reappeared at. But she was nowhere to be found. Amber searched for days, and asked around the entire town, but no one could give her any answers as to the woman’s whereabouts.

She had worked for the Count, though. Perhaps Amber could talk to the Count, maybe he knew something. To be honest, she didn’t trust the Count anymore. Too many bad things had happened to her and her friends while in his employ. First there had been the encounter with the demon back in Dort, just after she’d met Gavin and Abner. Then there was the time when the Count had left her alone and without help in a Clan-held keep in Hafne as an ill-trained spy… a spy that was completely forgotten and abandoned. And then they’d been sucked into the Aether while in the employ of the Count. Gavin had been killed or wounded, and the rest of them put into extreme danger. But she didn’t know who else to go to.

Unfortunately, the Count didn’t know anything. Perhaps even more unfortunately, Amber lost her temper with him. She stormed away from him in a fit of anger over his apparent impotency in the situation, and she swore to herself that she’d never serve him again. She felt used, like a game piece that he was willing to throw into dangerous situations, but was unable to help when she needed it.

There was only one other group of people that might possibly know where Gavin had gone. The Clans. Amber was terrified of them. She had killed a few of them in fighting while she was in the employ of the Red Bears, and she’d been led to believe that that Clansmen were the badguys. But she knew that Gavin had been negotiating with them before she’d met up with him again in Hafne, so she thought that maybe he’d gone back to them. Or that at least they’d seen him.

She managed to talk to them without getting killed, but Fate was still against her. They knew nothing of Gavin. She didn’t know where else to go, or who else to talk to. She only knew that Gavin had been active in the war before they’d been taken to the Aether, and she reasoned that if he’d come back to Dort, he would come back to the war, and try to end it as he had been doing before. So, for the time being, she’d stay where the war was, and hope to hear word of him. Besides, she felt she should help the Clans. They really weren’t the badguys, and she felt guilty for killing some of them. And she desperately hated the demon they were trying to destroy. She wanted to help them.

Once she got involved in the fighting, her life became extremely dangerous indeed. The fighting itself was heavy, and there were several times where her life was in great danger. Her skills with her knives saved her more than once, but she also learned to expand other skills as well. She learned to be quicker on her feet, and the Clansmen taught her how to use her hands as weapons, how to fight in close quarters against and enemy without weapons. She even learned how to better use her knives as ranged weapons, by throwing them when an enemy out of arm’s reach had to be brought down quickly.

When she wasn’t fighting, she sometimes had to watch out for the same men that were supposed to be her allies. She was young, pretty, and all alone. They knew she didn’t have any friends to back her up. They knew she was a virgin, that if she could be cornered, she could give a lot of men a lot of pleasure indeed. And so Amber was forced to use the other weapon at her disposal: her charm. She found that by pretending to be what the men wanted her to be, she could manipulate them to some extent, trick them into lower their guard until she could slip away, out of their reach. Amber never slept with anyone – not the men that wanted to have her, “just for a night;” not the women who pretended that they just wanted to be her friend – but she learned to use her naturally seductive, innocent charm to get herself out of more than one situation. When it was all done, she was still a virgin, but she wasn’t exactly innocent, not anymore.

Finally, the day came when the demon was destroyed, by the clan leader called Milkhaire. Amber had very little to do with actually killing the demon, though she had been with the men responsible for helping to gain entrance to her fortress. She fought hard in that battle, and hoped against hoped that by slaying this creature, Gavin might somehow reappear again, returned from the Aether whole and unharmed.

But he didn’t reappear. Amber, still alone, still hunted by people who lust after her young body, considerably more jaded and bitter now than she was before, has begun to give up hope of finding the man she loved. Or the rest of her friends.

Now, with nowhere else to go – or any way to really get there, short of walking – Amber stays among the clans. She has but one idea left. She discovered that Gavin had tried to speak to Milkhaire at one point. She doesn’t know if he ever succeeded in finding the clan leader or not, but either way, it is now her goal to meet with Milkhaire personally, and see if he might know something of Gavin. At least, maybe he could give her some ideas as to where to look.

She can only hope that Gavin and the rest of her friends are still alive. Or else she will wander the width and breadth of Tazlure searching for them.

Skills Allocation:
Seduction / Woo ~ Basic+*, +**** to raise to Apprentice
Throwing Weapons ~ Apprentice, +** to raise to Apprentice +**
Tactics ~ Basic+*, +** to raise to Basic +***
Acrobatics / Tumbling ~ Basic+***, +** to raise to Apprentice

[Abner Klop]

Faced with the mysterious disappearance of his friends into, apparently, the Aether, Abner Klop spent Samheen 29 demanding, and when that failed, pleading for help in reaching them. All these attempts proved futile. No one in Hafne seemed to understand how they'd been whisked away, let alone how to send someone else after them. When he had finally exhausted all options on that front, the feisty gnome turned his energies to his other obsession: the mysterious citadel known as Dyimmyrod. He lobbied hard with Count Johann von Bleib-Hier that this and this alone should be the target of the Dortenese armies. In this latter effort, he was somewhat more successful. The count, threatened by both rebelling clansmen and possible invaders from the West, refused to commit all his forces to the gnome's hunch. Abner's persistence, coupled with reports from other sources that the fortress was being used as a base by the rogue militia of the Red Bears, did finally succeed in getting the nobleman to send a detachment of troops to investigate furrther.
As Abner guided the Dortenese troops deep into the Highlands, he could sense the growing presence of Darkness, like a slight scent of corruption carried on the breeze. He also felt a second presence, harder to identify but uncannily familiar and comforting. Both feelings were emanating from the same source, which he knew to be the Dyimmyrod. When the gnome and his escort arrived, they found it besieged by an army of clansmen, and Abner guessed that one of the presences he'd been sensing was the Highlander shaman, Milkhaire. Although he could not see the strange mystic anywhere, he could feel that presence shining like a beacon in the oppressive air of darkness that hung over the fortress.

Given the recent hostilities between the clans and Dort, the soldiers accompanying Abner refused to venture into the battle. Unfazed, the gnome bid them farewell, with the message that if he should fail to return, the Count must by all means come with sufficient forces to destroy the place. The clansmen had succeeded in breaching the keep's defenses at a few points, and the general confusion of battle was sufficient to allow the little scientist to slip inside unchallenged. From there, he let the two presences in his mind—the warm, bright light of Milkhaire and the cold, suffocating emptiness of the Darkness—guide his way through the labyrinthine stronghold until he finally reached the throneroom of the castle's real lord.

Abner found the shaman Milkhaire there, locked in some kind of magical conflict with a hideous, formless mass of mouths, eyes, and tentacles. It was the first time he had seen the evil creature, who he would later learn was a demon named Prorubria, in its "natural" form, but the gnome recognized instantly that this was the same malevolent force he'd seen disguised as Vaga Hex and possessing the body of the Steward. The scene was a strangely still one, as the combat between the demon and the shaman seemed to be entirely mental, but Abner could feel the two presences wrestling with each other, and he thought he could almost see sparks of magical energy dancing in the air between them.

The gnome stood some flickers without knowing what to do. Neither the shaman nor the demon seemed cognizant of his presence. He briefly considered attacking the thing physically, but soon decided such action would be suicidal. Instead, he tried again to reach out with his mind to the shaman the hope that he could lend some kind of support to Milkhaire's mental battle. Inexpert though he was, Abner's past connections to the mystical Highlander gave him hope that he could once again make contact. Calming himself and looking inward, he let his mind gravitate toward the shining presence he'd sensing all this time. It seemed to grow closer and pulsed wih a friendly light. Gingerly he reached out in his mind to touch the light. That's when all hell broke loose.

Being mentally connected to Milkhaire meant that Abner had suddenly dropped himself into the middle of the psychic war-zone in which the shaman and the demon were fighting. He was shielded somewhat from the full horror of the demon's mind by the Highlander, but the effect was still something like trying to learn to swim in the middle of a hurricane. The gnome was surrounded by the demon's darkness, buffeted by waves of hate, cruelty, and despair. Every terrible thing he had ever witnessed or imagined, every dark emotion he had ever felt was thrown back on him a hundredfold. He could easily have drowned in that darkness, but he could still feel the shaman's positive energy reach out to him like a hand. He reached back and held on for dear life.

Time lost all meaning for Abner. He may have been in that state—lost in a chaos of emotions and images—for a flicker or for days. At first, he was completely helpless: he could not do or think anything for fear of being swept away forever. He found, however, that instead of being worn down to exhaustion,he was actually growing ever so slightly stronger. He realized that every flicker of survival was a kind of victory over the Darkness. In a flash of insight, he understood that this was not just true at that moment of psychic combat: it was always true. His life—any life, every life—was a continuous defeat for the Darkness. Remembering the blooming of flowers from the ashes of Nipponar after the last great rising of the Darkness, Abner realized how little power the Darkness really had in comparison to the eternally self-renewing power of Life.

Abner found he was able to focus on that image of rebirth and as he did he felt a sudden rush of power. It was as if he was suddenly connected to and empowered by every living thing. The cold and darkness of the demon's presence weakened and withdrew and was replaced by blinding light. Abner heard a voice that sounded like every voice he had ever heard (including his own) speaking at once, telling the demon that it had lost. That it had already lost eons ago when the first living thing came to be. That Life would always triumph over Darkness because while the Darkness could destroy, only Life had the power to create. And then the demon was gone and every one of Abner's senses was on fire, as if he was experiencing everything in the universe simultaneously. And then, mercifully, he lost consciousness.

Abner awoke on the tenth of Yulember back in the royal palace of Dort. He heard that the war with the Clans was over, that a demon had been defeated, that peace had been made with the West. No one seemed to know anything about what had occurred inside the Dyimmirod, or how the gnome had been recovered from there. According to the healers, he'd been found unconscious but otherwise unharmed. In fact, his condition had baffled his caretakers because he was not just uninjured but the very picture of health, except for his unresponsive state. For his part, Abner could make little sense of his memories, which were jumbled and confusing. He had witnessed, perhaps taken part in, something extraordinary, but what exactly, he could not say. Was it Milkhaire's power that had saved him and destroyed the demon, or was it something else? He no longer felt any trace of the awesome power that had been coursing through him; had it ever been there at all? How much of what he recalled was true memory and how much dream or hallucination? It was galling to the little scientist to be faced with so many unanswered and probably unanswerable questions, but part of him was a little afraid of what he might discover if he dug too deeply into what happened. The one indisputable thing Abner brought from the Dyimmirod experience was a new reverence for nature. While it had always fascinated him, the attraction had previously been intellectual. Now when he he went outside, he was struck almost to tears by the overwhelming beauty of the natural world. Everywhere he looked, things pulsed with life and energy.

The Duke's healers kept Abner under their care for another week before they were satisfied that he had suffered no physical consequences from his ordeal. From the capital, the gnome made his way to the Abbey, hoping that the brothers there could help him understand what he'd been through. Through the winter, he was a diligent student of the ways of the Abbey and took comfort in the quiet, contemplative life in which the monks engaged. A few things still nagged at him though. He worried about the fate of his friends. He'd heard a rumor that Amber had fought among the clansmen and that Gwayne had been spotted in Hafne. Of Gavin and Syrawenn, there was no news whatsoever. He thought frequently of MIlkhaire as well, wondering if the shaman knew anything more about what had occurred in that batttle with the demon, or if he too would remember only disconnected fragments. He wondered about Hezekiah and Cyrus and the other figures from the past whose lives were somehow intertwined with his and his friends'. As winter gave way to spring, Abner's restless spirit was starting to get the better of him. Calm and discipline were well enough for a while, but there was a vast world out there, brimming with mysteries and secrets for him to discover.

Recess Skills:
Persuade: ** (raise to Apprentice)
Empathy: ** (Basic+**)
Resolve: * (raise to Apprentice)
Demon & Darkness Lore: ** (Basic+***)
Inner Calm: *** (raise to Apprentice)

[Eivlys]

Being new to the city of Dort, Eivlys found it was a hard place to live. The Weavers were killed and so her place to stay was gone. She was able to collect her cloak and her few belongings from the shop before it was boarded up. She did not have any money, and had a crying baby to feed. The night would soon depart and her day would be spent as a swan.

She went and found a hiding place under the docks where she and the child could change back to swans and sleep the day away. The night of the Bears was burned into her mind, and the thought of Turi being carted away jaded her heart a little more. The Weavers, Turi, all who got close to her were taken away.

She woke the next night and took on a new resolve. She would have to find a way to make money, and yet not keep anyone close to her. She knew of one ofther name in the city, someone perhaps who was a kindred spirit. Dahve Bower would still be in the city, he could not have left so quickly.

She cleaned herself up as best she could, did up her hair and primped as well as one could with out the proper tools and went out into the city seeking the man. It was not an easy task, most people did not know where to send her, but eventually she found the Inn he was singing at this night. She could not go in, she was not dressed properly, no shoes and still her dress she made at the Weavers, better then the old sack cloth she was wearing.

She waited, however, and when he was finished he came out a side door. “Hello, I am Eivlys. I can sing with you.” She said stepping up to the tall thin man. “And dance, I am very good at both.” He was taken back at her bold nature and only smiled back at her. “Please, I need the work.”

“Ok, we have another gig tomorrow night, come to the Book and Candle. It will be a rough crowd.” He laughed again. “Would you care to join me for some food?” He asked motioning to where a carriage waited for him at the end of the ally way. A small group of people waited as well, as if expecting to carry things for him, or hand him things. She had never seen so many people waiting for one man.

“Yes, I would.” She stepped forward. “If it is not too much trouble?”

He shook his head and started down the alley handing his instrument to one of the people and his coat to another. “No trouble at all. So what is your child’s name?” He said in his lulling and swaying voice.

She looked down. “She is my niece, and her name is Aetya.” He paused only a moment with a smile, then offered to help her into the carriage.

She went to his room at the Plug and Barrel, and Inn that was just off the main road of Dort. She spent the night learning some of his songs and learning to dance with the music of them. She did not do much more then sing a chorus or two with him, nothing fancy, but he promised her a cut of the tips.
That morning she left him to find a hiding spot, spending the day as a swan. When the evening came, she met him and sang that night. Something must have impressed him as he invited her back. She sang while he was in town with him each night. Getting enough money to get by on, and slipping away each morning to hide and live her day as a swan.

She kept Aetya close, usually just off the stage and in her basket. She would hide her feathered cloak in the bottom of the basket under the child.

When Dahve left the city, she was able to line up her own events. Singing at the various pubs and places. Soon she was able to get a room to sleep in, a regular place over her head. She met many people, but they all stayed at arms reach, close and friendly, she would always have a drink or a laugh, but never too close.

Her singing improved, and she was able to speak to people and sing in ways that would calm them. Dancing and singing were starting to pay the bills and she was even able to spend a little extra. She would talk with those who were close to the stage between sessions, and get to know them. She would listen to people when she could and hear their stories.

It was the stories she heard that she turned to songs. She liked singing about love, love lost, love gained, and love eternal. She hoped her songs inspired happiness and hope in those who listened, and she could tell that if she focused enough, she could make them feel what she was feeling. She could calm a crowd with a look, or excite them with a few movements.

She hired a girl, Olivia, to watch Aetya when she sang, still keeping her just off the stage. The little baby was growing fast over the next three months and was eating some solid foods now. She loved watching the girl grow, she could not let her come into this life. Aetya would need to find something quiet and simple, but that would be dealt with later.


Skills
Conversation **
Dancing ***
Inner Calm **
Singing ***

[Thrandil]

OOC: a bit late, but with some time in the woods and the network being down at work, their was not much I could do. Sometimes, being a soldier ain't that much fun. Anyway, here goes nothing. May their swiftly follow a thread for me to resume play

IC:
Skill adjustments:
Group Combat – Party + *** = Apprentice
Hiding/Camouflage [Forest] + ** = Apprentice
Leadership + ** = Apprentice
Seduction/Woo + *** = Apprentice + ****

When the lost get found
Soon after Thran started a research along with the Duke’s men into the case of disappearing people, his commander, best friend and sworn brother returned. In the days following, there were a lot of stories and adventures to exchange between the two. Sometimes, when Dortenese soldiers were listening in, older stories were brought back up too. The glorious days of training, in which they were sent in against a demon and Orc camps. As well as the time they were in search of the princess. However, what Thran told most about to his friend, was his time with the pirates. There where he got to know Elevie better, as well as the adventurous life of a pirate. Last time they spoke, there was hardly time to tell these stories, since a war was brewing and the Adhiel lieutenant volunteered for a mission into the dangerous forests of Taquar. All these stories told, made him miss Elevie more then he had anticipated.

He insisted that they should find her, not only for himself, but even more for the people of Taquar. They needed again someone to lead them, to help them rebuild their lands, to give them hope after these dark days. Someone who can change some of their traditions, for the good of the people and future princes and princesses.

In order to gain back the reputation the Emerald Guard once had, they had to find as many lost members as they could and reform their troops. Long have they had similar ideas for the Guard and, with Draydis as it’s commander, now was the time to push ideas through while they were rebuilding their army. While they would search for Guards, even new ones that wanted to join them in their quests, they would help out the Dortenese with their eliminations of Red Bear members throughout Dort, and maybe beyond, because who knows to where they had spread after the wars with the clans were ended.

Penance in sequestration
Not only did he spent a lot of time with his old friend, but he seemed to disappear and reappear at random and most unusual times. When asked, he replied that he had to was trying to find some kind of inner peace after the turbulent times. Usually he’d be gone for a few days, but there were times that he couldn’t be found for a week or even longer. His possessions would always be in the encampments, except for his weapons, his Emerald Guard ring and the necklace Draydis and he had been given when they were sent to find Elevie.

During these times, he went out to the forests, living off the lands, using his bow for killing game. He never stayed in the same place for long. He travelled around in a forests and most of the time he walked around covered in mud, dirt, short branches and leaves. For the untrained eye, he wouldn’t be seen and as for the animals, he’d be invisible as long as he stayed motionless. Therefor he often waited for hours to be able to catch a rabbit or a deer if he was very lucky.

He did all this for the fact that once again Elevie was gone, but this time the young Adhiel kept blaming himself for this. Where she was, no one he talked to knew, but how could they. He should’ve never left her side back in Taquar. He should have never volunteered for that mission. If he just had been less true to his job, he would’ve still been in her vicinity. He had to find her, to make her realise he’d be a good choice to marry, instead of an arranged marriage. All these days in the forest were to atone for these ‘sins’.

Training and being trained
Thrandil trained a lot with Draydis and the Dortenese, but mostly he kept training with the few men that had been with him since Taquar. The men that he had chosen for their mission and now had travelled here with him. He trained drills and combat with these men. He tried to earn their trust and allegiance more and more by fighting with them in training and by leading them from the front. He kept his word when saying that they didn’t have to do anything he hadn’t done before or he wouldn’t do. In time, the men under his command were a well oiled machine that knew their officer as well as respected him in his ways and would probably follow most of the things he’d ask them to do.

For his insights, morale and loyalty to the Guard, Thran even talked to Draydis and suggested he would promote Fárin to squad leader. The man had always been there to help Thran out where needed as well as the fact that this man fell very good with most anyone he met. He’d make a good leader in time, but just needed some incitement as well men to look up to and to learn from.


Skills updated

[Guest]

There was little Mnnaguth could do once the war ended on Pan's Isle but heal. A crossbow bolt through the lung tends to limit you options. The half-giants being a hardy people, he did recover. Once he was well enough to travel he took the portal and then a caravan and returned home to his people.

There in the quiet and solitude of the sands he watched his sheep, guarding them from preditors. In the evening he would spend time with Tanoc he studying the stories of his people or with the village healers learning the beginnings of thier art. If it had not been for the knight of the One and his willingness to treat a potential enemy, he would be in the halls of his ancestors. Mnnaguth wanted to be able to return that favor should the need ever arise.

But still home wasn't the same. Or perhaps, with all he had lived through, he wasn't the same to just go home. And although the plague that afflicted the herds was past, there were still to many in the tribe to be supported by what was left. So with the blessings of his clan chief and his family, he returned to the outside, the other spaces that were not home to his people. His goal was still the same: to make enough money and send it back that his clan could replenish the herds and return to thier previous rank in the loose confederation that was half-giant society.

He went to ply his trades as a soldier, a herder, perhaps even as a storyteller. From what he learned from the agents at the bazar Dort was a place with much new money and people looking to spend it. People like that often needed bodyguards. With his staff, his armor, and a letter of recomendation he stepped through the portal again to seek his fortune.

Points:
Healing (non-magical) Basic New *****
Herding + *
Oral History [Great Desert] + *
Rote Memorization + *
Quarterstaff + ** (raises to Apprentice)

EDIT: Skills updated.

[Vanadius]

Hi folks. Still working on updating your skills and sheets but all recess posts to this point are now approved and you are free to begin a new thread, (or join an existing one) and start playing.

Should you have any questions, feel free to ask here, or PM or contact me.

Great job everyone!

V.

[Vanadius]

All skills should be updated at this point. If you think I missed you, please feel free to contact me!

V.

[Guest]

"The old hex had proved to be a wonderfully quirky woman, completely full of information. As much as she endeavored to live a quiet, simple life, there was too much a hex of her status could offer the community. She healed the little boy, Timmy, and the dragon took him away leaving Amaethon deflated. The excitement and energy gave way to a certain normalcy of daily routine. Sadly, Felus was lost to her. They had flown far and it would be quite a journey by foot to return to her horse. There was also the small fact that she had left him with a sticky fingered tax collector. She was likely to never see her companion again.

Amaethon's life truly changed when the war came to Vaga, the hex's doorstep. It was the deepest sadness Amaethon had known when Vaga was taken from her near the end of the tormenting violence. Amaethon's lack of skills saved her. Aside from learning minor herbal lore in her time there, she had nothing else but her agricultural skills to offer the soldiers. After some time Amaethon despaired and left the little hut near Dort to complete the journey she had started in Samheen to visit the Abbey.

Ragged from war-time, and more subdued than any would ever remember the fiery tempered girl, Amaethon brought herself to the hallowed grounds of the Mother, where it is told that the planet kissed it's sleeping maker. She came in supplication to the brothers and sisters for a simple job in return for a home to recover in and a lore to learn."

[Doran]

Doran opened his eyes to see sun just rising. Rubbing his head trying to get his bearings.The last thing he could remember was putting that poor animal out its misery. Then images started flooding his mind and he bolted up. Continuing to rub his head. He realized he was back in Hafne, well on the edge of Hafne anyways.

Many days passed since his return .Now that Lt.Craigh was back or rather Captain Craigh was back Doran found himself guarding the Count continuously. Doran never thought he see Craigh again leaving him there like that.That day they rescued Amber and the day Vale died.
Seems the Captain wanted someone that he could trust doing this and the Count had no qualms over this after all. If Doran had not made it to his side that night the traitor Ymir put his plan in motion,theres good chance the Count would be dead. The Captain also put him on strict training regiment . If he wasn't training with axe it was shield and short sword . If he wasn't on his pony learning to fight on horseback , it was running in his full plate armor. Captain said if he insisted on wearing that armor he best be top condition . Thats the way it went day in and day out.

Still he could not help wonder what happed to the others .He supposed they could have made it out there as well,after all he did. All really wanted was to find young elf maiden that knows the magical arts and settle down. Spend his days making weapons and letting her enchant them, but here he is in the service of the count. Still he thought thinking of the red haired Human female Amber there are other paths.

[Tristam]

Looks good Doran. Just specify which skills you want updated by how many stars and we can get you posting.

[Doran]

skills recess adjust how you see fit


armor(plate)-raise** to apprentice
axe-raise**
conversation-raise *
etiquette-raise* to apprentice
language(human)raise* to apprentice
riding(pony)raisee* to apprentice
running -raise** to apprentice
sheild-raise*
sword one handed- raise*
tactics-raise ** to apprentice

Hi Doran - your recess summary looks fine so feel free to start posting. Unfortunately with some of your skills, raising them by two stars will take you to Basic+**** rather than Apprentice level. Is this still how you wish to distribute them? ~Turi


yeah thats fine

Skills updated ~Turi

[Turi]

**No further recess stars are to be allocated from henceforth**