Messages

Chile. More dinosaurs.

Chilli or wasabi?

That would certainly be fun to see.

Definitely agree on the compass showcasing some interesting methodology though, but it remains interesting.

I'm going to try and get my hands on The Wolf And His King based on this recommendation.

GGK is fantastic. Lions of Al-Rassan is one of my top 5 books of all time. Incredibly influential for me.

I would agree, looks quite like a stegosaur. The plates should be paired, two rows along the dorsal line and probably staggered rather than a single row as depicted in the game.

Very early reconstructions of Stegosaurus itself had a single row (pretty sure Marsh's original description suggested as much) but we know now this was incorrect.

Funeral

I know absolutely nothing of Stardew Valley, but I do know an awful lot about dinosaurs.

If you could post a screenshot, I would be happy to try and provide an identification for you.

Great idea SotK. I've gone througb a great many changes over the years. I've definitely grown. Hopefully, I'm a better person than I was.

Economic Left/Right: -6.75
Social Libertarian/Authoritarian: -4.67
Religion: Atheist

I don't have time to read all that much these days, but I have been enjoying re-reading Tigana, by one of my all-time favourite authors, Guy Gavriel Kay.

My word, haven't the years just flown by SotK.

I said it on the Discord, but it bears repeating. An amazing 18 years it has been. My thanks to the community and especially to Jubs for the work which has been put in.

[The Warrior]

The Warrior is quite versatile, able to act as a ranged striker, a flanker and a primary tank all in the one build. The Warrior is not a caster class, and relies on using Combat Manoeuvres to cause damage, negate damage and apply status effects. The Warrior may wear any armour and wield most weapons. Outside combat, the Warrior is able to utilise a great deal of knowledge based abilities, mainly based around Common and Academic Knowledge related to fighting and tactics in general. The Warrior is one of few classes which can actually provide bonuses to the Command Skill. 

Class Statistic Modifiers
+1 Health every 2nd Level
+1 Initiative
+3 Dexterity or Strength
+2 Strength or Toughness
No armour restrictions.
Access to Common and Martial weapon list.
1x rank in Unarmed, 2 Common Weapon and 1 Common or Martial Weapon Proficiency.

Class Skills:
- Grappling
- Taunt
- Academic Knowledge (Military History)
- Academic Knowledge (Military Tactics)
- Common Knowledge (War)
- Contacts (Noble)
- Contacts (Mercenary Company)

Class Mechanics:
- Stances
The Warrior has access to the following Stances. Upon the Warrior's Turn, they may elect to enter a Stance as a Swift Action, which all Warriors have access to, though they may only be able to take up the Stance while actively wielding particular weapons.

- Defensive Stance - Requires a Melee Weapon with the Defensive or Free Parry Quality. The Warrior gains an additional +10 to a single Parry Check per Turn.

- Fool's Stance - Requires a Melee Weapon with the Defensive or Duelling Quality. Any Parry Checks the Warrior may make suffer a -20 penalty, however if successful, immediately grant a Free Riposte.

- Longpoint Stance - Requires a Melee Weapon with the Duelling, Reach or Defensive Quality. The Warrior gains +1 Free Attack of Opportunity upon a target moving into their threatened area per Turn.

- Wrath Stance - Requires a Melee Weapon with the Two Handed Quality. A single instance of Damage caused by the Warrior's Close Combat Check will incur an additional D5 Damage per Turn.

Class Talents:

Skill Enhancements
Run and Jump – The Warrior gains +10 to Athletics Checks.
Bestial Empathy – The Warrior gains +10 to Animal Care Checks.
Courtly Etiquette – The Warrior gains +10 to Charm Checks in formal environments.
Rough and Ready – The Warrior gains +10 to Charm Checks when dealing with soldiers.
Authoritative – The Warrior gains +10 to Command Checks.
Commanding Presence – The Warrior gains +10 to Command Checks.
Moves Like Quicksilver – The Warrior gains +10 to Dodge Blow Checks.
Skilled Driver – The Warrior gains +10 to Drive Checks.
Battle Scars – The Warrior gains +10 to Intimidation Checks when showing off their scars.
Imposing Figure – The Warrior gains +10 to Intimidation Checks.
Expert Rider – The Warrior gains +10 to Riding Checks.
Smallboat Mastery – The Warrior gains +10 to Rowing Checks.
Three Sheets to the Wind – The Warrior gains +10 to Sailing Checks.
Wanderer – The Warrior gains +10 to Survival Checks.
Confident Swimmer – The Warrior gains +10 to Swimming Checks.
In the Wars – The Warrior gains +10 to Common Knowledge (War) Checks.
Experienced Wrestler – The Warrior gains +10 to Grappling Checks.
Turn the Blade – The Warrior gains +10 to Parry Checks.
Sweat it Out – The Warrior gains +10 to Resist Poison Checks.

Skill Expertise: Expertise Talents may only be taken once the Warrior has taken the +20 bonus in the Skill the Talent refers to.
Consummate Athlete - The Warrior is considered to have Expertise when making Athletics Checks.
Expert Driver - The Warrior is considered to have Expertise when making Drive Checks.
Expert Rider - The Warrior is considered to have Expertise when making Riding Checks.
Expert Waterman - The Warrior is considered to have Expertise when making Rowing and Sailing Checks.
Expert Grappler – The Warrior is considered to have Expertise when making Grappling Checks.

Class Features
Toughen Up - The Warrior gains +1 Health every level, instead of every second level.
Always Ready - The Warrior gains +10 to Healing Checks made on themselves. May re-roll a single failed Exhaustion Resistance Check per Long Rest.
Grizzled Veteran - The Warrior gains +1 to Toughness Modifier.
Hard to Hit - Close Combat Attacks made against the Warrior are considered to be made at -10 To Hit.
Battlefield Repairs – The Warrior is considered to have the Craft (Carpentry) and (Smithing) Skills when attempting to repair their own damaged weapons and armour. The Warrior may make the same Checks at -10 to repair equipment belonging to others, provided they have access to the weapon or armour family the equipment belongs to.
Shield Wall - The Warrior may attempt to Parry any attacks made against an adjacent ally if they have a Parry attempt available.
Immovable Object - The Warrior gains the effects of the Sturdy Trait.
Martial Prowess - If the Warrior misses a melee attack in combat, continue to determine Damage as normal, and then halve it.
Deadly Onslaught - For each successful Attack made earlier in the Turn by the Warrior, add +10 To Hit for all subsequent Attacks within the same Turn.
Guard the Flank - The Warrior may make a Perception Check upon being Flanked by an enemy. If successful, the enemy does not gain the normal Flanking or Sneak Attack benefits.
Warrior's Resolve - The Warrior may re-roll failed Bleeding Out Checks upon being Incapacitated.
Deflect - The Warrior may use a shield to actively block ranged attacks. Deflect works exactly the same way as a Parry, but the target number is the attacker's Ranged Combat Skill, rather than Close Combat.
Deep Reserves - The Warrior may make a Willpower Check at any point after dropping under half their Total Health. Upon a successful Check, the Warrior may expend as much Soulfire as they have available in exchange for that amount of Temporary Health.
Hold the Line - Requires the Warrior to be wielding a heavy or tower shield. Any enemy adjacent to the Warrior may not move around the Warrior unless they first Disengage.
Survivor - Once per Turn, upon taking Damage, the Warrior may make a Toughness Check. If successful, the Warrior regains a single point of Health. 
Show No Weakness - May re-roll any failed Pain Resistance Check.
Off-Hand Parry - If the Warrior is wielding a weapon in their off-hand, they may exchange the free Quick Attack granted by the weapon, for a free Parry instead, resolved with the normal -10 for using the off-hand.
Warrior's Cunning - The Warrior's Attacks impose a -10 negative on any opposing Parry Checks.

Combat Manoeuvres:

Combat Manoeuvres
Agonising Blow - Requires the Warrior to make a Called Quick Attack to the wounded Hit Location of a living Wounded target. A successful Agonising Blow is resolved as a Quick Attack with an additional D10 Damage. If the Agonising Blow causes Damage after Damage Reduction is applied, the target must pass a Willpower Check or be Staggered.
Backbreaker - Requires the Warrior to be wielding a Heavy weapon and to make a Full Attack on a Prone target with discernible anatomy (ie, a spine). A successful Backbreaker is resolved as a Full Attack which causes x2 Damage after Damage Reduction is applied. If the Backbreaker is a confirmed Critical Hit, apply the Broken Spine Critical Effect.
Cleave - Requires the Warrior to be in close combat with at least one Prone target. A successful Cleave is resolved as a Full Attack on the Prone target. If the Cleave successfully hits the target, the Warrior may make another Full Attack on an adjacent target as a Free Action.
Crippling Blow - Requires the Warrior to make a successful Agonising Blow attack. The Warrior may immediately perform a Called Quick Attack to the same wounded Hit Location as the initial Agonising Blow, as a Free Action. A successful Crippling Blow is resolved as a Quick Attack. If the Crippling Blow causes at least 1 point of Damage after Damage Reduction, the target is considered to be affected by the Crippled Critical Effect for the appropriate hit location.
Cruel Vengeance - Requires the Warrior to make a successful Payback attack against a target in close combat. If successful, the attack is considered to be Rending.
Lash Out - Requires the Warrior make a successful Guard the Flank Check. The Warrior may immediately make a Quick Attack as a Free Action against the target attempting to Flank.
Glorious Cleave - Requires the Warrior to have killed their second target with a successful Cleave attack. The Warrior may make an additional Full Attack as a Free Action against any valid adjacent targets as long as the previous target was killed by the Warrior's Cleave attack.
Have a Nice Trip - Requires the Warrior to be wielding a weapon with the Reach quality. Have a Nice Trip is resolved as a Quick Attack against a target within range, within one size category's difference and with discernible anatomy (ie. legs), but instead of making a standard To Hit Check, the Warrior may make a Strength or Dexterity Check. If this succeeds, the target is considered to have been hit and is considered Prone. Have a Nice Trip may be Dodged or Parried like a normal Attack.
None Shall Pass - Requires the Warrior to be wielding a heavy or tower shield and not to have Moved since their last Turn. The Warrior may nominate a target within their Line of Sight. The first attack made against the Warrior by that target determines Damage counting the Warrior's normal Damage Reduction as x2.   
Payback's a Bitch - Requires the Warrior to make a Quick Attack against a target which caused at least 1 Damage to the Warrior since the Warrior's last Turn. Payback is resolved as a Quick Attack which inflicts an additional D10 Damage.
Raking Strike - Requires the Warrior to have made a successful Parry or Dodge Check and to be in close combat with a valid target. A successful Raking Strike is resolved as a Quick Attack with an additional D10 Damage. In addition to this, the Warrior is considered to have successfully made a Disengage Check as a Free Action, and may move freely without incurring an Attack of Opportunity from the target.
Warded Step - Requires the Warrior to have made a successful Parry or Deflect Check on the previous Round. The Warrior may move up to half their Speed for their Move Action. During this movement, they are considered immune to any Attacks of Opportunity without the Impact trait.
Bulwark Tide - Requires the Warrior to be wielding a Light, Heavy or Tower Shield and to have made a successful Parry Check. The Warrior may make an opposed Strength Check against the Parried attacker, modified by the target's Size Category. If successful, the attacker is immediately forced to move 5 yards in a direction chosen by the Warrior. The Warrior may elect to move into the now vacated space. This movement does not provoke any Attacks of Opportunity.
Deadly Onslaught - Requires the Warrior make a Charge Attack on their turn against at least two valid enemy targets. The Warrior's Charge is resolved as two Full Attacks, which may both target the same opponent.
Whirling Wrath - Requires the Warrior make a Full Attack with a weapon with the Two Handed Quality. The Warrior's Full Attack is resolved as a Full Attack on every valid target in range.
Sunder Armour
Victorious Surge
Heroic Strike
All or Nothing
Swift Disengage
Shield Bash
Countering Slash - Requires the Warrior to have been the target of a Close Combat Attack and to be armed with a melee weapon. The Warrior may immediately make a Quick Attack as a Swift Action Interrupt, following all the normal rules for a Quick Attack.
Destroyer
Smite

Class Rewards

Utility Reward:
Teamwork Reward:
Branch 1 Reward: 
Branch 2 Reward:
Branch 3 Reward:

The Witch is a Spirit-based primary caster class. The Witch has excellent utility out of combat and quite a few interesting niches to exploit in combat situations, making an excellent Support character. A Witch, like the Shaman, has a significant choice to make as they get stronger, making a pact with one of the two moons, Sehluna and Elladys and the spirits which dwell there. Doing so will grant the Witch even more capabilities. The Witch is a 'feral' casting option, with the ability to create Manifests, Curses and Blessings which harness the creativity of the player themselves.

Class Statistic Modifiers
+1 Health every 2nd Level
-1 Initiative
+5 Charisma or Willpower
+3 Dexterity or Intelligence
Light armour only.
Access to Common weapon list.
No free Weapon Proficiency.

Class Skills:
- Animated Friends
- Black Spot
- Channelling
- Veilsight
- Raise Power (Coercion)
- Raise Power (Domination)
- Craft (Manifest)
- Craft (Poison)
- Craft (Remedy)
- Craft (Sigil)
- Common Knowledge (Herblore)
- Common Knowledge (Sidhe)
- Common Knowledge (Wilderness)
- Practical Divination (Astrology)
- Practical Divination (Oneiromancy)
- Practical Divination (Palmistry)
- Practical Divination (Tarot)
- Practical Divination (Tasseography)
- Craft (Witch's Blessing) Elladys Pact only
- Craft (Witch's Curse) Sehluna Pact only
- Contacts (Merchant)
- Contacts (Spirits of the Moons)
- Contacts (Spirits of the Wilds)

Class Mechanics:
Moon Pacts -
Animated Friends
Black Spot
Familiar
Hag - The Witch prefers their own company to that of townsfolk, generally speaking. The Sidhe respect that. Taking the Hag talent gives the Witch a negative to dealing with people, but a bonus to dealing with spirits. TO BE EXPANDED UPON
Youth: -5 to Charisma with people, +5 to Charisma/Willpower with Sidhe.
Prime: -10 to Charisma with people, +10 to Charisma/Willpower with Sidhe.
Ageing: -15 to Charisma with people, +15 to Charisma/Willpower with Sidhe.
Elderly: -20 to Charisma with people, +20 to Charisma/Willpower with Sidhe.

Class Magic:
The Witch has access to the Spirit Magic system of casting. A Witch taking their first Magic Level receives the Spirit Magic (Residual) Sphere and two Spells from that list. After making their Pact with one of the two moons, the Witch may also take the Spirit Magic Sphere associated with their Pact.
The Witch has access to the following Magic Spheres:
- Spirit Magic (Residual)
- Spirit Magic (Lunar)
- Spirit Magic (Midnight)
- Spirit Magic (Twilight)
- Spirit Magic (Elladys)
- Spirit Magic (Sehluna)

Class Talents:

Skill Enhancements
Bestial Empathy – The Witch gains +10 to Animal Care Checks.
Trusted Face – The Witch gains +10 to Charm Checks.
Wilderness Concealment – The Witch gains +10 to Concealment Checks in outdoor areas.
Don't Trust The Moons - The Witch gains +10 to Deception Checks under the light of at least one of the moons.
Appraising Eye – The Witch gains +10 to Evaluation Checks.
Patch 'Em Up – The Witch gains +10 to Healing Checks.
Hands of the Healer – The Witch is considered to have Advantage when making Healing Checks. Requires Patch 'Em Up.
Live off the Land – The Witch gains +10 to Survival Checks.
Forager – The Witch gains +10 to Survival Checks when searching for Craft Ingredients.
Knowledge of the Stars – The Witch gains +10 to Survival (Navigation) Checks if they're able to see the stars.
Traditional Medicine – The Witch gains +10 to Common Knowledge (Herblore) Checks.
Experience of the Sidhe – The Witch gains +10 to Common Knowledge (Sidhe) Checks.
Into the Wild – The Witch gains +10 to Common Knowledge (Wilderness) Checks.
Manifest Destiny – The Witch gains +10 to Craft (Manifest) Checks.
Master Poisoner – The Witch gains +10 to Craft (Poisons) Checks.
Master Healer - The Witch gains +10 to Craft (Remedies) Checks.

Skill Expertise: Expertise Talents may only be taken once the Witch has taken the +20 bonus in the Skill the Talent refers to.

Class Features
Lunar Shroud - While at least one of the moons is in the sky, The Witch cannot be scryed upon. Once they choose their pact at level 3, this changes to requiring their chosen moon to be in the sky.
The Company You Keep - The Witch has quite the reputation, but this reputation is not unfounded. They've seen and can do some scary things. The Witch and any allies within 5 yards of the Witch may re-roll failed Intimidation and Fear Checks.
A Healthy Friendship - Requires the Elladys Lunar Pact and The Company You Keep Talent. Taking this talent gives a number of allies equal to the Witch's Magic Level and within 20 yards of the Witch an extra point of regained Health on a Long Rest.
Bad Company - Requires the Sehluna Lunar Pact and The Company You Keep Talent. Any allies within 5 yards of the Witch may re-roll failed Resistance Checks when targeted by Spells with the Curse keyword.
Cursehold - Any Spells cast by the Witch with the Curse keyword which require Line of Sight and Concentration to maintain, may now be maintained by Focus alone for a number of Rounds equal to the Caster's Magic Level.

Hag Enhancements
Hag - Allows the Witch to progress further down the Hag mechanic.
The Cackle - Requires the Hag Talent. The Witch develops a very convincing hag's Cackle. The Witch gains access to the Cackle Skill (Charisma). A successful use sees the Witch gain +10 to Intimidation Checks against the Cackle's Targets.
Unnerve - Requires The Cackle Talent. The Witch's Cackle now causes Fear in the Cackle's Targets.

Spell Enhancements
Spirit Magic (Residual)
Through Mine Own Eyes - The Witch may now cast spells from the position of the target of Empathic Vision.
Spirit Magic (Lunar)
Spirit Magic (Midnight)
Spirit Magic (Twilight)
Spirit Magic (Elladys)
Spirit Magic (Sehluna)
Roots of Protection
Cursed Roots
Solar Eclipse
Calm Frenzy
Visage of Terror
A Shared Nightmare
Insider Secrets
A Party Waning

Class Rewards

Utility Reward (Elladys Pact): Give it a Second Life
Utility Reward (Sehluna Pact): Brightside of Doom
Teamwork Reward: Power of the Coven
Branch 1 Reward: Bargaining
Branch 2 Reward: Power of the Night
It's Night-Time Somewhere - Requires the Power of the Night Class Reward. It is no longer harder for the Witch to cast during the day.
Night Affinity - Requires the Power of the Night Class Reward. It is easier for the Witch to cast spells at night. -3 to Power Required for all spells, in any Sphere available to the Witch, when casting at night.

I've spoken with you privately of course Jubs, but thank you again for hosting us on here and putting up this interview. It's been an honour and a pleasure.

[Session 0.5: The Good Brother]

Session 0.5: The Good Brother

"When the cold wind blows in, and the mists rise in the stony streets, beware the riding host,
They come with spears and cold fire, astride nightmares of frightful countenance,
And at their head rides the one who would be their king, the lord of the hunt himself,
The Hellequin."
- Translation of a poem attributed to Lyra Rivershine of Tamrend, 1712. It is speculated she witnessed the Chéserquine of 1711 in Stonebridge, on account of the stony streets she mentions in the poem, a feature Tamrend notably lacks.

Welcome to our final prologue session for Seven Stones and a Pale Shadow. Only one player in this session, for the most part, Lean_Linguini, who has proven to be a fantastic new addition to our playing group. He was joined, briefly, by Ladyhawk95 for a single scene, which will be familiar to you if you have read our previous sessions.

The town of Stonebridge is a large settlement in the northern stretch of the Southlands, built around the great bridge from which the town takes its name. The bridge spans the Adhainn River, a fast-flowing watercourse, the source of which originates high in the mountains of the Dragain's Tail and runs out to the sea to the west. The main town itself is walled, but there are a great number of largely unprotected hamlets and farms which surround the township. In times of strife, the inhabitants of this farmland will often remove to Stonebridge itself, or otherwise to one of the small walled villages in the vicinity, like Tamrend, Vedaun or even the twin coastal villages of Cothra.

On both banks of the Adhainn, both in the centre of the town and on either side of it, lies the heart of the region's industry. Tanneries, fisheries, lumber and grain mills, smithies, papermakers and more all ply their respective trades along the riverbanks.

Stonebridge nominally falls under the rulership of Arhaut, one of the northern-most kingdoms of the South. The kingdom encompasses at least some of the Boltmoors, though admittedly, this is in name only. While the kings of Arhaut in years past have attempted to claim dominion over the dwarven city of Freeholm, the reality is Arhautian rule ceases some miles north of the Adhainn and the land between that ill-defined point and the town of Meresdorff is locked in a kind of uneasy peace between the two powers.

The town itself has been under the stewardship of the Rodelle family for many decades now, but there are still some who see the family as interlopers. The current patriarch of the family is Marquess Lyndon Rodelle. He rules the region from the great stone keep on the southern bank of the river alongside his wife, Henrietta Rodelle, nee Fridente. Despite their age and position, they remain childless, a situation which has not escaped the notice of their critics.

To the north-east lies the Viltshaws, a forested hilly expanse with a fell reputation. The eaves of the woodland are filled with all manner of fauna, most of it fairly representative of the region. Upon the ground, rabbits and capaill forage in the undergrowth. Small herds of forest deer frequent the area too, as might a herd of wild horses. The most dangerous creatures one might find would be the stray pack of woodwolves, or perhaps the occasional boar, which can admittedly reach prodigious sizes in the area.

The further one delves into its depths, however, the stranger the denizens of the forest become. The woodwolves get larger and more intelligent, something not quite right about them. Fanciful tales tell of the voices one can hear from the birds overhead, murders of ravens perched in the branches above, all staring down with singular focus at passersby, whispering warnings of grave danger ahead.

In the heart of the wood, or at least, as the legends would have it, resides the Mesnee d'Hellequin, the unseelie court of the powerful sidhe lord known as the Hellequin.

Suffice to say, very few deign to venture into the Viltshaws, and even fewer return.

Those which do return from those darkened woods, often return to the comforting embrace of The Pallid Mare, a somewhat dilapidated inn which always seems to be slightly too small for whatever number of people which currently inhabit it. It is four storeys tall, with plentiful, if slightly cramped, accommodation. The Mare as it is sometimes affectionately known, has a reputation for good, hot food and affordable, if sometimes watery, beer. The innkeeper, a short, abrupt Southron woman named Mallida, runs a tight establishment and brooks little to no disagreement.

To Charlie Gwyn Valdemar, she's a good boss. She pays fairly, looks after her staff when the clientele get a bit rowdy and always makes sure the younger ones get a bite to eat after a busy night.

And it is with Charlie Gwyn Valdemar this particular part of our tale concerns itself.

Three figures are seated at the base of a tall rowan tree outside one of the paper-mills along the river, just outside the town. It is late morning, just before midday and the sun is high overhead. A cool breeze gusts along the riverbank, carrying with it the heady salt of the sea and the raucous cries of the shorebirds which line the shores of the bay at the mouth of the Adhainn.

The first of the three is a Feartarbh, tall, yet slender for one of his kind, clearly not quite fully grown. His hair and fur is a pale, palomino colouration, the crown of horns upon his head belying his adolescence. He wears a long, dark green coat over a golden brown tunic and black breeches.

The second, another Feartarbh and clearly brother to the first, is a smaller, younger specimen. His hair and fur is slightly darker than his brother, and his horns are far from fully developed. He wears a dark, burnt orange tunic and similar black breeches to his brother.

The last figure is diminutive, even by the standards of the Leathe, with sleek, reddish-brown fur, wearing a blue-grey shirt with rolled-up sleeves, long black woolen trousers and a short oilskin half-cape.

The excitement among the three friends is palpable. They know full well another Chéserquine is imminent. It may even be tonight.

"Do you think we'll catch the whole parade?" - Roland, tapping his older brother on the arm gently.

"I hope so. Kayvan should be finished any minute now." - Charlie, reassuringly.

Roland had been pestering their parents for weeks to go and see the parade. It was tradition in these parts, on each day in the leadup to the Chéserquine, a troupe of players would traverse the Main Thoroughfare in a rowdy cavalcade, masquerading a masterful imitation of the terror about to fall upon the town's streets.

For Rhaea and Oberus, such a thing would only be possible if he was accompanied by his older brother, and Charlie's condition to Roland was they would wait until his friend, Kayvan, had finished work.

"It smells pretty bad around here." - Roland, the young Feartarbh fidgeting as they wait.

"The tanneries along the riverbank." - Charlie, knowledgeably. Unlike Roland, Charlie has been here before and he knows the immediate area fairly well.

"I did it by the way." - Hamlin, the diminutive Leathe's soft voice pitched a little higher with excitement.

"You applied?" - Charlie, looking across at the small boy.

"I did, I wrote the letter. I hope I get it." - Hamlin, his tail twitching nervously.

"Say, Rolly, when are you going to get a job?" - Charlie, in a tone of good-natured teasing.

"Well, uh, you know what... You know what Ma says, I don't need to get a job until after I finish the apprenticeship with Pa, same as you. How old were you when you started at the 'Mare'?" - Roland, stumbling over his words.

"Eighteen summers." - Charlie, shrugging.

"So that's still like four years away." - Roland, settling back in the seat with the heel of a loaf of bread.

Only a few minutes later, a slender young Midlander walks out of the nearby papermill. His fair skin is tanned, his coal-black hair short and messy and the patchy stubble and wispy moustache he wears is nowhere near as impressive as he seems to think it is. The young man wears an off-white tunic, grey trousers and a thick leather belt, from which hang the various small steel and wooden tools of his trade, hooks and scrapers. He bids farewell to Aeya, the papermaker, and then strides out to meet Charlie and the others, a smile lighting his features.

"Hey Kay! Come on Charlie, let's go!" - Roland, excitedly pulling Charlie to his feet.

* * *

"Hey Charlie, when are you working at the 'Mare next?" - Kayvan, as the four boys stride along the river-side road.

"Uh, day after tomorrow I think? In the afternoon." - Charlie, wracking his brain.

"Good, good, I'll have to come in while you're there. Taree said she wanted to talk to me about something. I may need back-up." - Kayvan, with a worried grimace and a shrug.

The troop of dark blue clad guards standing watch at the northern gate allow the boys through with no challenge. They seem wary, and Charlie has noted the greater presence of military force on both sides of the river. Ostensibly, this is due to the ever-encroaching Chéserquine, but Charlie cannot help but wonder. Most of the forces gathering in number outside the southern gate are mercenaries, currently mustering under the banner of Lord Rodelle.

The border to the north, where the people of the Boltmoors have long rankled against Arhautian rule, is a site of significant tension, a tension Stonebridge has felt in the past.

The closer the boys get to the Main Thoroughfare, the louder the noise grows.  The cacophonous mesh of sounds is almost deafening, as scores of musicians, carrying a wide array of instruments, line the bridge, playing in almost-unison. The bridge itself is over a hundred yards across, and spans over two-thirds of a mile from bank to bank. Lining the edges are hundreds of townsfolk, clapping, dancing, singing and playing along. Running down the centre of the bridge, comes the cavalcade.

At the fore, march nearly forty black-clad musicians, their black clothes lined with the stark white skeletal designs of bones, not a few of them bearing actual bones sewed to the black cloth, the clatter of bones merely adding to the general pandemonium. Leading them all is a huge man, eight foot tall at least, clad in a long black coat and hood which obscures his face, over which he wears a crown of spiked bone, the spurs of which protrude upwards like thorns. He rides a massive black destrier.

Just as the boys find a good spot to watch, the long coat of the rider is thrown aside and three black-clad Leathe spring out, letting the coat fall to the ground as they leap from the back of the horse. They tumble and spin around one another and over and through the rest of the marching band to the raucous cheers of the crowd around them.

Behind the black-clad musicians, the rest of the crowd follows, all in various degrees of ostentatious display. Some, like the boys, look as if they have arrived straight from work. Many others look as if they have put some time into costumes and masks. A slender Jeleni woman with thin horns is playing a panpipe, the left sleeve of her light brown leather jacket decorated with hundreds of tiny bones, likely from mice, sewed into the leather. Twined around her horns in silver wire are more bones, giving the impression of a deer's antlers. Many others wear masks in the shape of skulls or woodland creatures, or have painted their faces to look the same.

Almost imperceptibly, Charlie hears a slight sigh from down on his left. He looks down to see a slight look of disappointment on Roland's face.

"What's wrong?" - Charlie, pitching his voice over the swelling noise of the crowd.

"This is great, but I wish we could have seen the beginning." - Roland, still watching the performance.

"You're lucky you got to see any of it all. Last time I wasn't allowed out of the house for three days on either side of the Chéserquine." - Charlie, shaking his head.

"That's true I guess. I didn't get to see the King properly though, I would have liked that." - Roland, disappointed.

As Kayvan pushes his way through the crowd, four flagons clutched in hand, he nearly walks into a tall, spindly Jeleni youth. The stranger is very thin with sandy fur, covered in a riotous mess of bright colours, a strange stringed instrument hanging from a strap over his shoulder and a half-eaten donut in hand. He mumbles an insincere apology through the crumbs of pastry in his mouth, wide grey eyes still intent on the show before him.

Shaking his head, Kayvan rejoins his friends, handing a flagon of water each to Hamlin and Roland and a flagon of ale to Charlie. They toast their cheers together and continue to watch the parade.

* * *

As the sun begins to dip towards the horizon, bells start to ring all through Stonebridge. The crowd upon the bridge slowly begins to disperse and the marching band cease their performance abruptly. An old, bearded Midlander man in simple brown robes, wearing the three-sided symbol of the Triad around his neck, rings a silver bell in hand. Beside him walk two guards, clad in the dark-blue livery of Stonebridge.

"Tonight is the night of the Chéserquine! If any require shelter for the night, they may find it in the church of the Triad!" – The brown-robed man, ringing his bell and walking along the bridge.

"We're not far from sunset, Charlie." - Roland, looking up at his brother.

"Sorry Kayvan, Hamlin, but we've got to get home or Ma and Pa will kill us. Come on Ham, let's get you home too." - Charlie, clapping Kayvan's shoulder as they leave.

* * *

"You two are late." - Rhaea Gwyn Valdemar, standing on the porch just outside the open door of the gigantic homestead which sits on stilts above the Wraeth's Woodwork workshop.

"It's before sundown!" - Charlie, indignant.

"Come on then, up you come." - Rhaea, clearly nervous. It may indeed be before sundown, but not by much.

She is a tall woman, a Feartarbh obviously, but she seems soft and almost delicate, at least considering her size. Her voice is gentle.

As the two boys traipse up the stairs, they hear the monotonous scrape of a lathe working over wood cease, and the creak and groan of a tortured chair having a great bulk removed from it. Their father, Oberus emerges from the workshop, dusting himself free of woodchips and sawdust. Heavily muscled and taller even than Charlie, he is a massive, comforting presence to the boys. He tucks a scraping knife back into the sheath at his belt, ruffles Roland's hair with a deep chuckle and gestures to his sons to head upstairs.

"Enjoy the parade boys?" - Oberus, his voice a deep baritone.

"Well enough." - Charlie, shrugging.

"We missed the beginning, but yeah, it was really good." - Roland, nodding.

Together, the family move inside, into the warm, fire-lit home, the massive wooden door swinging shut behind them. The warm, comforting scent of a rich stew permeates the house. Rhaea bolts the door thrice behind them and then together, she and Oberus work together to barricade the entrance-way.

As Oberus steps away and he heads to the dining room, Charlie notices his mother pull out a small bundle of sticks and flowers. She kneels down before the door and whispers something indistinct and a small blue-green light flickers briefly between her fingers, emanating from the petals of the flowers. She gently pulls a petal from the flowers and leaves them at the base of the door, and then proceeds to the windows and leaves another petal at each windowsill.

Charlie cannot remember this ritual from the last Chéserquine, seven years ago. Of course, he was much younger then, maybe he just never noticed. His mother has never admitted to any form of magical ability in the past, though now, he had to re-think all of the strange and wonderful abilities his mother had.

Rhaea Gwyn Valdemar could find anything. Any clothes or tools Charlie, Roland or even Oberus might have misplaced, Rhaea would know exactly where they could be found.

She never got lost. She could fix almost anything. He remembers one afternoon when he was young and his mother was cooking at home. She dropped a glass jar of spices and it should have shattered, but when Charlie moved around the bench to help her clean up the mess on the floor, miraculously it was still in one piece, the powdered red spice inside, somehow, still intact and within the jar.

Luck, she had said, and he had taken her word for it. Charlie doubted it very much now.

"Charlie! Roland! Dinner, come on!" - Oberus, from the dining room.

"Coming!" - Charlie, making his own way there, mind whirling.

"Coming!" - Roland, bounding downstairs from the bedroom in his striped pyjamas.

A massive, cast iron cauldron dominates the centre of the beautifully carved wooden table. Oberus takes four earthenware bowls and fills each with a generous measure of the rich, brown stew within, setting them in place around the table.

"When are you working next, Charlie?" - Oberus, hands steepled over the bowl before him while they wait for Rhaea to join them.

"Tomorrow, around midday I think." - Charlie, having checked his schedule on the wall when he got home. He had been wrong when he told Kayvan earlier.

"You'll have to see if you can grab us something. I think I will feel like some bread tomorrow." - Oberus, with a laugh. It's a long-running joke of his, that he holds out for the food Charlie brings home from the tavern, as if Rhaea weren't a wonderful cook herself.

Rhaea finally joins them at the table and they begin to eat. Rhaea and Oberus ask the boys quite a bit about the parade in the afternoon, and how their friends are faring. They are good parents and caring people and love their sons dearly.

* * *

Upstairs, with nought but the single fitfully burning candle on Roland's bedside table providing light to the room, Charlie and Roland sit on their beds, waiting in excited anticipation. Outside, the final light of the day flees, and darkness descends on the lands around Stonebridge.

At first there is nothing but a strong gust of wind which eventually builds into a howling gale. A faint chittering sound sussurates through the streets outside, unnerving and strange.

As the boys sit in the darkness and continue to listen, faint cries and screams echo from the exterior, alien and terrifying. All of this chaotic cacophony under the terrible howling wind. There is a rolling crash, like a peal of thunder and then wild shrieking and whooping, further animalistic screams as something cavorts through the streets outside.

Thunderous reports like hoofbeats crash off the roof above, as if a spectral horseman had ridden over the length of the house and leapt off the edge.

It is one thing to read about this, and read about it both Charlie and Roland had, but it is another to live it.

The house itself begins to gently shake as it is buffeted both by the wind and whatever the things are outside, these fae spirits.

Nervousness and excitement both war on young Roland's face as he sits on the edge of the bed, looking towards the boarded window. There is precious little to see outside, just the occasional flash of something moving past at great speed.

"You okay, Rolly?" - Charlie, concerned at the way Roland's white knuckles are gripping the edge of the blanket on his bed.

"Huh? Yeah, yeah, I'm okay." - Roland, seemingly startled from his reverie.

"As long as we're inside, we're okay. Nothing can hurt us inside." - Charlie, trying to be reassuring and calm. His own heart is thundering in his chest.

"Yeah, of course. We're safe. I remember." - Roland. He doesn't sound convinced.

"Only one night and then it's over. How long have we been excited for this, Rolly?" - Charlie, still trying to reassure his brother.

"You're right." - Roland, seemingly more relieved.

They sit in silence for a few more minutes. Roland wrings his hands and shakes his head.

"Shall we have a look?" - Roland, nodding his head towards the boarded up window.

"No. We shouldn't." - Charlie, but his tone is unconvincing.

Together, Charlie and Roland both sidle along the edge of their respective beds, until they reach the ends. Together, they stand and slowly, carefully, walk to the window and peer out, between the wooden boards and out into the night.

Outside, billowing all through the streets below, a thick fog obscures all detail. Here and there they see shapes in the mist, low-slung bestial shapes like boar and wolves, then almost a glimpse of tall, slender rider upon a powerful steed. What looks at first like a thorny thicket then coalesces for the briefest moment into a phalanx of crude spears, before they merge into the fog once more.

A flicker in the fog catches Charlie's eye and he starts involuntarily. It almost looked like a banner. He catches the glimpse again and strain his eyes to try and, despite his misgivings, catch a glimpse of whatever heraldry is charged upon the standard.

He cannot make out the vague shape at first, but then, suddenly and for the briefest second only, it is clearly visible. A horrible fanged skull, maw open and distended, filled with needle sharp fangs, the eye-sockets a midnight black upon the grey field of the banner. Behind the skull, terrible branching antlers shoot upward, almost like a great tree. The banner snaps in the breeze outside, and the face upon the banner suddenly launches forward, towards the window, loosing a piercing shriek as it does so.

"Roland, get away from the window!" - Charlie, leaping back from the apparition.

The two boys scurry back and away from the window, towards the relative safety of their beds.

"What was it Charlie, what did you see?" - Roland, voice quavering.

"I saw his banner. I saw a horned skull and it screamed. Gods, it screamed, Roland. Stay away from the window." - Charlie, his mind whirring, his breathing hard and fast.

As the boys sit back in their beds, huddled against the far wall of their room, they see a faint, blue-green glow emanating from the flower petal on their windowsill. The blue-green light glows, flickers and then fades as the petal lifts, almost as if blown by a gentle gust of wind. It comes to a rest on the wooden floorboards, lifeless, inert and grey, no longer glowing.

The thunder of hoofbeats reverberates off the roof of the house. Outside, on the street, those same hoofbeats clatter on the cobblestones. A wolf howls, the howl swiftly turning to something like maniacal laughter amidst the screams of shrieks of what sounds like the nightmares of the woods come to dance and play in the streets of Stonebridge.

The two boys huddle under their covers, hiding from the terrors outside for what feels like hours, not daring to make even the slightest sound. Finally, the cacophony ceases, the howling winds begin to die down and then the faintest patter of rainfall can be heard as the clouds open above.

"Is it over Charlie?" - Roland, peeking up over the covers towards his brother.

"I think so. We will have to assess the damage." - Charlie, quietly. He swings his legs off the bed.

The bedroom door opens, revealing the massive form of Oberus.

"Is everything okay in here?" - Oberus, warm. His tone changes when he sees the expressions of terror still writ large on Charlie and Roland's faces.

"Did something happen? Or were you watching?" - Oberus, concerned. He moves into the room and sits on Roland's bed, reaching an arm out to comfort his youngest son.

"We saw a little out the window." - Charlie, quietly.

"You were both told not to look. Why do you always have to look?" - Oberus, shaking his head.

"They always say not to be afraid of the dark-" - Charlie, clearly still shaken.

"This isn't being afraid of the dark, boy! This is... the things which live in the dark." - Oberus, exasperated. He stands, pats Roland on the shoulder and moves to the window to inspect the damage.

With one, meaty fist he takes one of the boards and pulls it away, noting the blackened and singed wood on the side facing outside. The wooden board splinters in his grasp, clearly weakened by the fae assault.

"Hmmph. Lucky, both of you. Go downstairs to your mother. I must fix this." - Oberus, gruff.

The two boys head downstairs to the sound of their father hammering new boards in place over their window. They find their mother in the study, sitting back in her chair. She looks exhausted and takes a long draught of water from a pitcher as they enter the room.

"What is it, my boys?" - Rhaea, placing the pitcher upon the small table beside her chair.

"Something attacked our window. It's okay, Pa's fixing it now. Everything's fine, it didn't get in." - Charlie, seeing the panic in his mother's eyes as he tells her.

"Well, it is a good thing I did that then. We're all safe. Everything's fine." - Rhaea, exhausted. She sounds almost as if she's speaking to herself just as much as her sons.

"Petals." - Charlie, suddenly.

"I'm sorry?" - Rhaea, confused.

"Petals. What are the flower petals for?" - Charlie, curious.

"A superstition, to keep us all safe. Nothing more." - Rhaea, tired.

"When the window was attacked, the flower petal withered and died. Does it mean anything?" - Charlie, unwilling to let this go.

"Likely not." - Rhaea, her tone gentle, but brooking no further conversation.

Within the hour, Oberus has finished the swift repair-work on the boys' bedroom window and they are able to return to their room to sleep. Still buzzing with the excitement and horror of what they only just managed to escape, it takes quite some time for the two boys to fall asleep.

That night, Charlie has a nightmare. It is familiar at first, he is working at the The Pallid Mare, though strangely, he has been asked to stay the night. Once more, a patron has spilled an ocean of ale upon the floor of the 'Mare, the largest such incident yet.

As Charlie begins to mop up the mess, the front door of the inn is suddenly shattered with a deafening crash. For a brief moment, almost as if in slow motion, he sees a delicate pale blue petal, softly glowing with a faint, internal light drift through the air across his vision, disturbed by whatever impact has destroyed the door. It disappears from view and, as Charlie stands there, mop in hand before an ocean of ale upon the wooden floor, a thick pale mist begins to pour in from outside.

Within the mist, he espies dark, low-slung shapes, shaggy-furred and with glowing red and yellow eyes. They slink into the inn with the mist, the cozy fire in the hearth having guttered out, leaving only a dim gloom. He sees further shapes in the mist, horns, antlers and the pale gleaming of speartips held aloft. A single massive figure, everything about it pitch black, darker even than the night surrounding him. It wears a tall crown, almost made of woven branches twined together which rip up into the sky and rides upon a horse-like steed, horned and with too many legs, eyes belching fae fire.

The rider slowly moves into the inn and holds out a midnight-black hand to Charlie, who is rooted to the spot, unable even to breathe. Charlie can somehow see the delicate traceries of vines and leaves etched into the steel plate of the rider's gauntlet and vambrace.

With a shout, Charlie breaks free of the compulsion upon him and swings his mop at the rider, though instead of a wooden haft and the heavy, sodden head of the mop, it is now an elegant steel longsword. The rider's hand recoils as the blade clangs against its blackened steel gauntlet.

The skull-like visage of the figure turns to look down to Charlie, towering over the youth. Eyes, twinkling behind the steel mask like silvery stars, lock with Charlie's own gaze and a shadowed black amorphous mass tears forth, enveloping Charlie.

He awakens with a start, breathing heavily, his bedsheets drenched with sweat. Outside his window, little songbirds chirp in the early morning, heedless of the constant light drizzle which falls from grey, overcast skies above.

The scent of fresh bread wafts up from downstairs. Rhea has been baking.

All is well. All is well.

* * *

Refreshed and braver in the cold light of the early morning, after a warm and hearty breakfast, Charlie leaves the woodworks, Roland happily following his older brother. Upon walking out the door, the two young boys see a very tall, pale woman walking beside an unusual small, shaggy brown animal, one arm holding a long, mottled grey, white and navy cloak out over the little creature, providing some shelter for it from the constant light drizzle of rain. She is about the same height as Charlie, well-built and coldly beautiful, clad in clothing of dark greys and pale blue. She has an off-white bandage tied around her upper arm.

"Whoa, Roland, she looks interesting. I don't think she's from around here." - Charlie, whispering conspiratorially to his brother.

"No, I think you might be right. Also, what is that?" - Roland, pointing to the strange, tawny creature trotting beside the woman.

Charlie, a lover of all small, furry creatures, waves a greeting to the little mammoth calf, at which point the shaggy-furred little bugger immediately runs off into the gentle drizzle to meet these new people.

"Hello, hello! Who's this?" – Charlie, kneeling down to fuss over the little mammoth. Venn waves his trunk in greeting to both of them.

"I am so sorry. Venn, please, leave the nice people alone." – Brynhildr, jogging over with a somewhat contrite expression.

"No, don't apologise. He's beautiful. Where did you get him?" – Charlie. Venn has, now completely ignoring Bryn, rolled over onto his back to receive belly scritches.

"He was a gift. From an old teacher." – Bryn, somewhat taken aback.

"Where are you from?" – Roland, also scritching Venn rigorously.

"Do you mean where I was born, or...?" – Bryn, trailing off.

"Yeah, sure." – Roland.

"Ah, from the north. The far north." – Bryn, non-committal, not that the two Feartarbh seem to notice or really mind.

"The north, that's so cool." – Roland, wistfully.

"Is it cold up there? I bet it's really cold up there." – Charlie.

"Yes, it is quite cold where I am from. There are colder places though." – Bryn, shrugging.

"Did you see the Chéserquine? So cool, right?" – Charlie, excitedly.

"Ah yes, I did. Dangerous, is it not?" – Brynhildr. Despite the incessant questions, she finds herself warming to the pair. They are friendly and open but most importantly, Venn likes them. That counts for a lot.

"Ah, yeah, a bit, a bit. They smashed in our window." – Charlie, with an excited gleam in his eye. Roland nods hurriedly and points up towards the second storey of the house behind them, indicating a window with boarding hurriedly hammered in place over the breach.

"That doesn't sound like a good thing." – Brynhildr, looking up at the damage.

"No, it was pretty scary." – Roland, his excited demeanour incongruous with his words.

"So the yard around the house, is this your family's?" – Bryn, noting the sparse patches of grass growing in and around the house.

"Yes, it is. The lumberyard of Wraeth's Woodwork, our family business." – Charlie, proudly.

"Would I be able to take Venn in there please? He likes to run around on the grass, and I do not really want to risk taking him outside the town walls. I promise I will clean up after him." – Brynn, hopeful.

"Of course, that would be fine. It's just grass. I know they won't mind at all, but if you see our parents, tell them Charlie and Roland told you it was okay and that we're friends. What's your name?" – Charlie, holding a hand out to Bryn to shake.

"Brynhildr." – Bryn, taking the hand and shaking it firmly.

"Brynhildr?" – Charlie, trying to get his tongue around the unfamiliar pronunciation.

"Brynhildr." – Bryn, nodding.

"Nice. Where's that name from?" – Charlie, smiling.

"Home. Up north. Unterguardt." – Bryn.

"And is that where Venn's from too?" – Roland, still playing with the little mammoth.

"Ah, yes, it is." – Bryn, nodding.

"Charlie, I think we need to go to Unterguardt one day." – Roland, happily.

"It has been lovely meeting you, but we should really be getting a move on. I've only got a few hours before work. Please, head on in and get Venn on the grass. Hopefully we will see you later." – Charlie, with a smile, giving Venn one last head pat.

Bryn nods her thanks with a small smile of her own and ushers Venn into the lumberyard. She sits down, her back against a small pile of arbret-logs and pulls her cloak tightly around her shoulders, watching Venn happily frolic in the misty morning drizzle. With a slight smile, revealing teeth just slightly too pointed for any Midlander, Bryn weaves a slight bit of magic into the air around them. The misty drizzle ceases, replaced now by flitting snowflakes forming above them. Venn's trunk waves from side to side as he attempts to catch them as they fall.

* * *

Walking through the town, Charlie and Roland overhear quite a few elements of conversation. One market-stall is being set up for the morning, and Charlie overhears the proprietors, a rotund and dwarf with a dark complexion and a short, well-maintained beard and a tall, willowy Midlander woman with fair skin and copper hair, discussing the events of the previous night.

"Did you hear what happened to the Jestain manse?" - The dwarf, unloading narrow boxes from a small, ram-drawn cart. 

"No? What happened?" - The woman, stacking the boxes carefully.

"They're saying it burnt down in the night." - The dwarf.

"No! Unbelievable." - The woman, incredulous.

"They're saying they're all dead. That whole family." - The dwarf, shaking his head sadly.

Charlie knows of the Jestain family. The head of the family, Marlon, was somewhat of an eccentric. He was not particularly well-liked amongst his peers, however it stands to reason for a supremely successful merchant prince. He was successful enough to consolidate his position into actual nobility, purchasing patents which would see his family ascend to the upper ranks of Arhautian society.

Marlon himself was a strange man, with a keen interest in the fae, bordering on obsession. His ventures into the wilds, into locations normally considered too dangerous to attempt were well-known and largely ridiculed, however his findings were treasured by Charlie, who shared the man's love of knowledge of the sidhe.

The Jestain family fortune was largely built around the working relationship Marlon developed with prominent crafters in and around Stonebridge. His continued patronage of Wraeth's Woodwork had served both the Jestain family and the Gwyn Valdemars well. Charlie had even met the man before, in the years prior to him purchasing the patents of nobility which removed Marlon from the social class which would regularly interact with a mere carpenter.

Charlie had found him friendly and very knowledgeable. The soon-to-be merchant prince had even given the young Feartarbh a small notebook with a collection of notes on the Chéserquine.

Walking further through the market district, Charlie hears a little more. Rumours swirl of at least one survivor of the terrible blaze which claimed the manse, Marlon's son, Tomas. He is, according to rumour, being treated and held by the apothecary, Marwolaeth Plendyn Or'Saer in her Emporium, just across the road from Wraeth's Woodwork. The stories speak of the little apothecary braving the flames to look for the boy, assisted by two compatriots and he remembers something about the tall woman from the north he met earlier, the singed and burnt cloth of the coat and fingerless gloves she wore.

In all, they claim, eleven people perished in the fire which claimed the manse.

"Charlie? May I have a donut please?" - Roland, as the pair pass a pastry stand in the market.

"Of course." - Charlie, fishing the necessary coppers out of his pocket and hailing the owner of the pastry stand.

Mere moments later, with piping hot pastries in hand, the two brothers sit down upon a bench and look out over the Adhainn River.

"Happy Chéserquine day, Rolly." - Charlie, wistfully taking a bite out of his donut.

"Charlie, what do you think happened to the Jestain manse?" - Roland, likewise taking a bite.

"It's obvious, isn't it? The Chéserquine came through, burnt it down. Our own window was burned, was it not? It's a shame about Marlon though, he was alright really. Maybe that's why they picked him off? He knew too much." - Charlie, thoughtful.

"That makes sense, only you don't hear too much about the fae burning things. Still, you're right, our window was burned too, so it could happen." - Roland, nodding.

"That's a good point. Thinking about it, the fae take those outdoors or otherwise unguarded. Marlon would have known better than to be outdoors during the event." - Charlie, taking another bite of his donut.

"And if he were outside, would they have burned his house down? Or just ridden off with him? I don't know. I did hear that man over there, you see him there, the stevedore with the black jacket? I heard him saying he thinks it was arson, that he saw someone fleeing the scene after the riders left." - Roland, pointing at a tall, dark-skinned Midlander with his dark hair partially obscured by the thick woolen cap of his trade.

"Rolly, it's rude to point, come on. And that's crazy. Even after the riders leave, it's still terribly dangerous to go outside on the night. Why would anyone go to such a risk just to kill the Jestains?" - Charlie, shaking his head.

"Well, I mean, it wasn't like Marlon Jestain was the most popular man in town." - Roland, shrugging.

"Marlon, sure, but the rest of them were alright." - Charlie, still disbelieving.

"I met Tomas once, you know? He was alright. A bit dull perhaps, but alright. I hope he's okay. Nice kid." - Roland

"You could visit him if you like?" - Charlie.

"Ah, I could, but no, it wouldn't be right. I don't know him particularly well after all. I'm sure he's got other family and friends he'd want to see before me." - Roland, clearly overthinking things.

"Roland, what if he knows something about what happened that night though? What if we were able to investigate what really happened? We'd be heroes. I think we need to get into the Emporium to speak with him." - Charlie, warming to the theme.

"Well, that makes sense. Yes, we could do that. We'd be doing the town a service." - Roland, expression brightening.

"Say, did you notice the sleeves on the woman we met earlier?" - Charlie, remembering Bryn.

"Bryn? No, why?" - Roland, who was completely oblivious to the state of Bryn's clothing and the scent of woodsmoke which permeated her.

"The sleeves and gloves, they were blackened and burnt. It looked like she was staying in the Emporium too. I bet she helped rescue Tomas." - Charlie, jumping to conclusions.

"And we just gave her dog some grass. She owes us." - Roland, doing likewise.

"Maybe she can get us in and then we can talk to Tomas." - Charlie, excitedly.

"She might not need to. If Hamlin does get the job, maybe he can get us in. Or maybe Bryn can get you in and Hamlin can get me in and then we'd both be in together." - Roland, getting carried away.

"If this happens, do we need to wear disguises and pretend we don't know one another? You could be Reginald and I could be Casper. We'd be from out of town, from two separate towns to explain why we don't know each other." - Charlie, likewise carried away.

"This sounds great. I'll start working on my disguise now. Thanks for the donut Charlie. I'll see you at home for dinner tonight?" - Roland, wiping his hands clean of the cinnamon sugar which had encrusted them.

"Of course, after work. Wouldn't miss it. See you tonight." - Charlie, standing and making his way to The Pallid Mare.

* * *

Crossing the Main Thoroughfare, Charlie espies several smallboats upon the dark waters of the Adhainn, fishermen plying their trade on this grey morning. The sound of industry can be heard on the wind as the forges and mills along the riverbank come to life. He gives a friendly nod and wave to the silver-furred Bruin smith at The Steel Mill, the name of whom he cannot recall. The one-eyed smith does not deign to respond, likely too engrossed in his work to even notice the youth passing by.

Charlies passes The Steel Mill nearly every day on his way to work, but he has never yet seen anyone at the forge other than the surly smith. Not so today, however, for alongside the silver-furred Bruin stands a similarly short, stocky and weathered figure, a white-haired dwarf. The dwarf is clearly too old to be an apprentice, Charlie thinks to himself, but he pays it no mind, leaving the two smiths working in silence behind him.

Upon arriving at The Pallid Mare, Charlie is greeted by Taree, polishing tankards and laying them out upon the countertop.

"Good morning Charlie!" - Taree, a smile on her face as she greets her friend.

"Morning, Taree. How did you fare in the night?" - Charlie, moving behind the bar to lay down his coat and put on his apron.

"Well enough Charlie. A little excitement, but naught to be worried about. Now Charlie, once you're ready to start, see the Danann over there?" - Taree, pointing to a brown and green-clad Danann woman sitting in one of the booths.

"I see her. What about her?" - Charlie, nodding.

"She helped out last night apparently. Ma told me to look after her, give her anything she wants for breakfast. If you could sort that out for me, I'd be much obliged." - Taree, who disappears into the backroom and emerges a moment later with a small wooden plate, upon which sits nothing more than a single, piping hot baked potato.

She carries this plate to another booth, not far from the Danann's, within which sits a diminutive Leathe-girl with merle colouration and in finely tooled leather armour. While young, the girl is remarkably well-equipped, her armour visibly expensive and her heavy dagger, sheathed where it lays upon the tabletop, inset with a deep red jewel of some kind in the pommel.

The Leathe-girl accepts the plate with palpable excitement and begins to messily devour it.

"You mentioned some trouble in the night?" - Charlie, tying up his apron.

"Yes, some f***wit during the night decided to simply up and walk out into the night. He opened the door and just walked out." - Taree, incredulous.

"What, do you mean, during the Chéserquine?" - Charlie, equally aghast.

"Yes, indeed. Within about twenty minutes of the vanguard thundering past. He just f****** opened the door and walked out. His room's still upstairs. Ma said there was nothing much in there. I think the Danann over there was one of the ones she let in there to have a look." - Taree, jerking her head in the direction of the Danann.

For her part, the Danann is simply sitting in her booth, eyes closed, relaxed, seemingly catching up on some rest after the events of the night previous. She looks half-wild with dark hair and the angular features of her kind.

"Not like he'll be missing anything they might have taken." - Charlie, dismissive.

"Aye, true enough. Not like we'll ever see him again." - Taree, nodding her agreement.

Taree puts another tankard upon the countertop and gestures to the Danann woman, sitting in her booth.

"I'm glad you're here. Frankly, she's freaking me out." - Taree, whispering furtively to Charlie.

The day passes relatively uneventfully. Charlie notes sometime in the late morning, the Danann and the Leathe-girl leave together, though he does not get the impression they know one another well. He does learn a little more of the events of the night prior from the clientele of The 'Mare, but on the whole, most of the town's populace do not wish to speak of it. Most of the talk is based around the Festivale and the various travellers the town will be welcoming in the coming days as the revelries are prepared and eventually commence. He does note the Bruin smith and his dwarven compatriot visit the inn for lunch and he serves them both, though he is unable to pick up much of their conversation.

It is late in the afternoon when a familiar face enters the inn.

"Charlie, how are you? How's work?" - Kayvan, hanging his cloak at the door and messing his coal-black hair with his hands to dry it slightly.

"Kay! Doing well thank you. Can't complain. How was last night?" - Charlie, greeting his friend.

"Yeah, good, good. No problems on our end. Say, have you heard about the Jestain manse?" - Kayvan, taking Charlie aside, out of the hustle and bustle on the inn.

"I did catch a little of it. No one knows for sure, do they? Last I heard, the rumours are someone crept out after the Chéserquine and set fire to their house?" - Charlie, questioning.

"Literally as the final rider took to the sky, they are saying. I heard and immediately thought of you, because it is weird and connected to the Chéserquine and that is kind of, 'your thing' after all. Ah yes, Taree, beer please! Oh, of course, Charlie, you're still working aren't you? Of course you are. Just one then, Taree, thank you!" - Kayvan, with excitement.

Kayvan makes his way to the bar, to patiently wait for his drink. Charlie walks with him, making a quiet apology to a patron he accidentally bumps with his prodigious frame.

"Will you be out tonight, for the pre-Festivale celebrations?" - Kayvan, to Charlie.

"I'd like to, but probably not. I imagine my parents will not let me out after dark. You know how they get." - Charlie, sadly.

"I see, fair enough I guess. Ah, thank you Taree. Very well, I'll keep an eye out for you tonight, but if I do not see you, we must catch up tomorrow. Aeya let us all out early, apparently her mother had some tall woman from out of town attack Bandon." - Kayvan, taking the beer from Taree.

"Tall? As tall as me?" - Charlie, perking up at the description.

"Yeah, perhaps." - Kayvan, shrugging.

"That's probably Brynhildr. She's my friend. She has a mammoth!" - Charlie, excited.

"They did say she had a weird dog. Like a mastiff or something?" - Kayvan, confused.

"No, not mastiff, mammoth. You know, like a big wooly elephant." - Charlie, shaking his head.

"Nah, what's an elephant?" - Kayvan, confused.

"Yeah, like a mastiff. Like a big, wooly mastiff." - Charlie, shaking his head.

"Sure, whatever. Anyway, whatever it is, apparently she freaked Bandon out good and proper. Aeya had to go console him cause he's scared to leave the house or something now." - Kayvan, dismissive.

"Hmm, that's odd. She seemed really nice when I met her." - Charlie, thoughtful.

"Eh, who can say, really? Anyway, if you're not going to be out tonight, perhaps I might swing around the woodworks. I'll bring Roland something. What's he like again?" - Kayvan.

"Ah, donuts?" - Charlie.

"No, the meat thing. The meat thing with the sauce? F*** it, I'll get him a donut. Anyway, I'd best let you get back to work and have this chat with Taree. Wish me luck, hope she doesn't rip my face off or something." - Kayvan, laughing at Charlie's expression.

* * *

After work, as the sun slowly sets on the day, Charlie hurries home. The streets are bustling with activity, the population of Stonebridge beginning to emerge for the pre-Festivale revelries, a wild couple of days before the official celebrations begin, a traditional period of abandon where survivors simply embrace their continued existence.

To the people of Stonebridge, this period is not unlike the general feel in the week between Christmas Day and New Years Day, two large, exhausting events in close proximity to one another, though to be fair most Christmas Day traditions do not involve being abducted by a fae court.

As he crosses the Main Thoroughfare, he notes a smallboat out on the river, piloted by two small figures, a young Jeleni youth and a Leathe-girl. The dim light and distance make it hard to tell, but it could well be the Leathe from the inn earlier in the day. As he watches, the two of them furtively manipulate something in the boat and something shoots into the sky and explodes in a brilliant burst of multi-coloured light with a sound which cracks like thunder. There is a moment of panic and then everyone on the bridge begins to applaud. A band of minstrels strike up a tune, drinks are poured and consumed and the two figures on the boat sketch a quick bow and dive headfirst into the water together. The two figures emerge on the dark northern bank and are quickly swallowed by the appreciative crowd.

The Jeleni and the Leathe

Ailbhe very quickly called in the favour owed to herself and Michael by the cooper, Brandin. Together, she and Brandin stole a firework and a smallboat and set it off on the river.

Much as he would like to, Charlie does not tarry and instead hurries home, clutching his packet of food from The 'Mare and arriving at Wraeth's Woodwork just as the red sunset dips down into the western horizon. Mere minutes later, he sits at the table, enjoying a nice family dinner.

"Did you hear about the Jestain manse?" - Charlie, picking at his mashed potato.

"Yes, I did indeed. A terrible tragedy. Say what they will about him, Marlon was a good man. Such a young family too." - Oberus, quietly.

"Did you hear his son is still alive though? He's across the road, at the Or'Saer Emporium I believe." - Charlie.

"No, I did not hear that! Some small good at least, though I fear what will become of him." - Oberus, saddened.

"Will we need to find a new benefactor? Marlon bought most of our work, did he not?" - Rhaea, to her husband.

"We will need to, but it should not be too great a difficulty. We will manage." - Oberus, calm.

"What if we diversified? Came into some other goods to trade? I hear there are mammoths up north, in Unterguardt." - Charlie, petulantly skirting the greens on his plate.

"That's a mighty distance from here, Charlie. Whatever do you mean? We have all that we need here, in Stonebridge. What need have we for mammoths?" - Oberus, confused.

"There's more to the world, Pa. Other opportunities to be taken." - Charlie, quietly.

"Charlie, the outside world is dangerous. It is safe here, in Stonebridge-" - Oberus, before Charlie cuts him off.

"I will need to leave eventually Pa, won't I? I want to see the world, but I'm not even allowed outside the town." - Charlie, indignant.

"You will, in time, as will Roland. When you are both older and can care for yourselves. Besides, what do you mean you have not been allowed outside the town? Of course you have been outside Stonebridge." - Oberus, his deep baritone calm and comforting, yet brooking no argument.

"Not more than a few miles." - Charlie, sullen.

"What need is there to go more than a few miles? There's enough to see and hear here, where it is safe." - Oberus, gently shaking his great, horned head. He moves slowly, carefully, almost as if his scared of his own prodigious strength.

"Charlie, you know your father only wants what is best for the two of you. For all of us." - Rhaea, consolingly to her eldest son.

"I know, but I want to do things. For example, tonight. All my friends are out on the street now the Chéserquine has passed, preparing for the Festivale. Can I join them?" - Charlie, hopeful.

"But it is not safe out there Charlie, you know this. The Festivale does not commence for another three nights hence as that is when it is properly safe to be out on the streets after dark. You know this." - Rhaea, quietly.

"Of course it is safe, no Chéserquine has ridden on two consecutive nights in recorded history. Any stories of it happening are just myths and legends. Frankly, I don't think they're real." - Charlie, indignant once more.

"There are still wild spirits out there, left behind by the Chéserquine, lurking in the darkest alleyways and abandoned buildings. It is too dangerous. You will stay inside tonight and tomorrow night and maybe, just maybe, you might be able to go out on Festivale-eve." - Rhaea, her tone firm.

Charlie knows better than to argue with his mother. He quickly finishes his dinner and bids his parents a good night. As he and Roland traipse off to bed, he looks back and sees Oberus put his massive arm around his wife's shoulders and give her a gentle squeeze. As he closes the door to the bedroom, Charlie tries his best not to see his mother's tears.

* * *

The wooden boards barricading the bedroom window have now been removed, replaced by a slightly stained glass pane which Rhaea had commissioned and installed earlier in the day. Now, it reveals the revelry on the streets below under the twin moons in the night sky.

Roland stands by the window, a little forlorn. He wants to be out there of course, taking in the sights and eating the food.

"Charlie, Ma and Pa are right, aren't they? We shouldn't go out there?" - Roland, sadly.

"Probably not." - Charlie, still aggrieved from his argument with his parents as he readies himself for bed.

"Still, all the same, it doesn't mean we cannot be part of it." - Roland, who throws open the bedroom window.

Instantly, the scents and sounds increase markedly in magnitude. The scent of wine, smoke and grilled meats instantly wafts up to the two boys.

"There's something really nice cooking out there Charlie. I can almost taste it. Like honeyed meat or something." - Roland, eyes closed, savouring the scents.

Charlie comes over to the windowsill and sits there, observing everything outside. Roland sits beside him and the two share of a comfortable, companionable silence. Roland leans forward slightly, and Charlie happens to look over at his brother. Behind the young boy, revealed in the night sky, Charlie sees the twin moons.

Time seems to stop as Charlie notes the terrible glint of the Red Star as it passes between the moons.

Heavy clouds gather in the sky and a thick, pale mist begins to creep into the town, clogging the streets and causing torches and cooking-fires to flicker out. A panic begins to set in, tired and drunken revel-makers milling in confusion.

But Charlie, transfixed by the Red Star, sees a figure upon a nightmarish steed, armoured in black steel riding through the skies, borne aloft as if by the wind itself. It rides down from the star, alights upon the roof of the house next door, launches across to Wraeth's Woodwork and reaches out a single, terrible, steel-clad hand. Charlie has but an instant to note the delicate engravings of leaves and vines upon the black-steel gauntlet before the fae spirit's hand grasps the back of Roland's collar. The boy has only time to utter a startled gasp before he is borne away into the night sky with a crash of thunder like the hammer-blow of a wrathful god, leaving only the faint scent of juniper berries behind.

The impact knocks Charlie backward, onto the bedroom floor. Breathless and frantic, he struggles to his feet and looks out the window, desperately searching in vain for some sight of his brother.

In the streets below, the panic sets in earnest as more mounted figures and their low-slung mighty hunting hounds tear through the streets, taking up the defenceless at will and bearing them away.

Charlie stands at the window, disbelieving, unmoving, as the rain begins to sheet down from the dark and heavy clouds above, his countenance fearful. He wonders to himself if he might ever see his brother again.

The Wrap-Up
Well, first of all, welcome back everyone. My apologies for the delay in posting this. It was a very tough one to actually complete, perhaps in large part due to how integral it is to getting Arc 1 actually rolling.

Poor Roland.

Not too much to really say about this one really, other than to officially welcome young Lean_Linguini to the table. It has in reality been quite a long time, so long in fact Linguini has gone from being a new player at our table to being a member of our development team and a member of our prestigious Norbayne Game Master club. He has been a wonderful addition to our team and table.

To date, we have long since actually finished Arc 1 and, as of late last year (2023) finished Arc 2 as well, which is largely sessions with smaller sections of the party as they navigate an approximately 3x year time-jump. It'll all make more sense for you readers at the end of Arc 1 I am sure.

We are hoping to properly commence Arc 3 in early March of this year, which I am very excited for. This will see the actual main plot of the campaign properly kick in and tie it to our existing legendarium.

At any rate, we sincerely hope you enjoyed this chapter and look forward to bringing you the next, hopefully without such a lengthy hiatus.

Return to Contents

[MIDLANDERS]

MIDLANDERS

Basic Genealogy
To an extent, the base heritage of most of the various sapient species of the world are usually shrouded in myth. The coming of the Aen'Cead saw significantly increased levels and complexity in both the evolutionary and cultural development of many of the extant species of the world at large, an uplifting of sorts which saw sapient life grow prevalent across the world.

The Midlanders were no different. Somewhere far west of the modern-day continent of Norbayne, large primates descended from the trees and developed into a bipedal, terrestrial species. When this occurred, relative to the coming of the Aen'Cead, is unknown. Relatively hardy and adaptable to all manner of environmental conditions, these proto-Midlanders were very successful. We know not what their early cultures were like, nor even what they called themselves, however Midlander myths in the modern era tell of the so-called 'Green Land', where their people first came into being. These myths are scarce on detail, painting an idyllic picture of bountiful land, free of war and strife. The truth of this cannot be discerned, however it is unlikely, for the Midlanders of the modern era are descended from those who left this 'Green Land', undertaking a particularly difficult and dangerous voyage over The Apeiron Ocean.

In appearance, Midlanders in the current era look much like you and I. They are essentially humans as we know them, in all the shapes, sizes and appearances you would be familiar with.

General History
The very early history of the Midlanders is lost to the mists of time and the devastation which overtook the far side of the planet upon the coming of the Formoraigh and the fall of the Aen'Cead. We do know they came from over western waves, settling the lands they found in between their point of origin, the so-called 'Green Land' and their final destination, the western shores of Norbayne itself.

This initial contact with the Midlanders on Norbayne is now referred to as the Midland Settling, whereupon the newly-arrived Midlanders began to carve out a region of this new continent for themselves, particularly driving conflict between them and the endemic Fyrst-Dynion peoples. The Fyrst-Dynion Valleyfolk were wiped out in this conflict, caught between the newly arrived Midlanders and the sweeping advance of the Swallowed Wrothdar of the tained Sidhe, Maudh. Further details on these events will be disclosed in our Fyrst-Dynion and Wrothdar entries in the future.

In the modern era, there are four main branches of the Midlander lineage which remain in the world, each relatively distinct, in some cases by appearance, but largely by culture and influence.

HIGHLANDERS

History & Religion
Upon arriving on the shores of Norbayne, the Midlanders spread swiftly, able to adapt easily to all manner of conditions to be found on the continent. Many made their home in the northern expanses of the continent, in the lands between the Deighlas Mountains and the mighty Wardenfells, warring against the Fyrst-Dynion Valleyfolk and Woodsmen, the Swallowed, the dispossessed Dwarves of fallen Nyjarnverk and even the northern Danann clans of the Gheimridhe in equal measure.

It is usually quite cold north of the Neck, windswept, snowy and not particularly fertile and as such the Highlanders never became quite as populous as their kin to the south and further west over the seas.

At the time of the rise of Maudh, the northern highlands became a particularly dangerous place to attempt to eke out an existence, with both the fauna of the region and even the weather driven to extremes by the terrible influence of the tainted Sidhe. The Swallowed Wrothdar tribes of the Deighlas were whipped into a frenzy by the selfsame entity and they poured south, driving all manner of peoples before them. The fractious nature of the highland kingdoms left alliances thin on the ground, and as no individual king or warlord could stand against the fell power of the north, death and destruction reigned across the hills and valleys in the shadows of the Deighlas Mountains.

Upon the arrival of the Bosavir and the establishment of the Bovus Empire, many of the northern highland kingdoms were subjugated and made vassals of the Empire. Those which were not brought into the fold were by and large destroyed by this new, powerful and militaristic state.

Despite the political power the Bosavir held across the breadth of the majority of the continent, they have never been a particularly numerous people, outnumbered significantly by the Midlanders and as such, when the Empire did eventually fall nearly four hundred years later, the northern highlands reverted back to the dominance of Highlander rule. These lands were split between kingdoms both newly established in the aftermath of the Empire's fall, and old, tracing back to before the arrival of the Bosavir, which had managed to survive, usually through shrewd diplomacy before rising in open revolt in the final days of Bovus hegemony.

While Highlanders are currently found predominantly in the northern climes of Norbayne, many of their kingdoms having sprung up in the shadow of the Deighlas Mountains, they are not an uncommon sight on the southern coasts of the continent of Unterguardt, and the various islands which make up the Norstrand and even the Mystrand, though it should be noted they are rarer there.

By the current timeframe of our games played to date (largely between 1650CE-1750CE), many of the northern cities are less populated and fewer in number as compared to their contemporaries, and as such, as far as general technology is concerned at least, circa ~1650CE, the Highlands of Norbayne are not as advanced as more southern realms.

Language and Cultural Real-World Influences
The Highlanders of Norbayne have found their culture influenced in part by the Indalt-speaking peoples of the far north, endemic to the northern continent of Unterguardt. As such, while they largely speak a legible dialect of the Common Tongue (itself now simply an evolution of the historical Midlander language), often with an admittedly thick accent, there are often many loan words from Indalt and Cainte language groups which have become a common part of Highlander parlance.

It is fair to say, from the perspective of a player, the Highlanders have a strong Scottish influence. Your best approximation of a Scottish accent is a great start.

Physical Appearance
Highlanders do not diverge significantly from the standard physiology of the Midlanders as a rule. The north has a well-founded reputation for breeding strong and hardy people. As such, they tend towards a comparatively heavy, powerful build. They do tend, at least in stereotype, towards a pale skin tone and reddish or dark hair, though blonde and brown hair is not exactly uncommon.

Signature Fashion and Armaments
At home in the cold north, furs, hides and thick leathers are the choice of the day, the better to ward off the biting wind and chill snow.

At war, formations of infantry clad in chain with long kite shields and spears remain the bulk of any force. Cavalry tend to make up the elite. Knightly orders are rare in the north, but do exist, and heavy cavalry clad in half-plate and chain, armed with lances and mounted on hardy garrons are a staple of the military in most northern kingdoms.

The targe is a uniquely highland weapon, a roundshield of moderate size, fitted with a spike protruding from the boss, which in some cases can be quite prodigious. In this way, the targe provides an additional point of attack.

Iconic personal weapons include broad-bladed daggers, called dirks, straight-bladed cruciform arming swords and large, two handed claymore greatswords. These weapons are rarely seen as primary weapons on the battlefield, but are commonly carried by the general populace in the case of the first, and as secondary sidearms by military and other martial sorts in the case of the latter two.

Military Notes
The highland realms are, by and large, feudal, and so armies are individually raised, equipped and supplied by the lords, all of which fight under the king's banner, or at least the standard of whichever local lord is drawing up the force. Casters are a well-established part of most highland militaries, and have a long history of being utilised in warfare, often as skirmishers.

Sample Characters
Angus McFyfe
We have seen a few Highlander characters over the course of our games to date. The first of these was Duke Dev's Highlander Shaman from the Great Maw campaign, Angus McFyfe.

Angus McFyfe

Originally hailing from the northern kingdom of Crowpeak, the realm which rules the Spur of the North and the Norstrand islands which are almost scattered across the ocean to the west, Angus was a scion of a house which once was royalty in its own right, but has now found itself consigned to merely minor nobility.

As for Angus himself, after a Krona incursion on one of the islands of his home, he joined the Seekers of the Flame and took ship to the Kandsza Islands, where he properly joined the war effort against the bestial threat. There, on Zariste, the largest of the Kandsza Islands, Angus was integral to the efforts of the Seekers, eventually forming a pact with a Formoraigh sleeping under the great lake in the centre of the island, at great cost to himself.

Angus, along with the Dunscarth, Mathlynn Cild-Aillith, was responsible for the creation of the Oilleann Aisling, the Island Dream, one of the greatest magical workings of the current era, which was then used as bait to lure the extraplanar entity which had crash-landed far to the west of Zariste. This all came to a swift end however when the Maw arrived. Angus sacrificed himself in the ensuing carnage, giving his allies the best chance he could to survive.

As for Angus himself, his fate remains largely unknown, however rumours abound of his shade surviving in some form or another, joined with the conglomeration of Sidhe now lost under the waves.

As we can see, despite the almost tropical environment on the Kandsza Isles, Angus is still dressed fairly traditionally for his people, with warm clothes, made predominantly of wool and leathers.

If you would like to read Angus' adventures more fully, the majority of the Great Maw campaign has been written, with the last few episodes soon to be uploaded.

Please follow this link to read the Great Maw campaign as it currently stands.

Michael McFyfe
The next Highlander we see as a player character is one which again, belongs to Duke Dev, his Highlander Berserker from Seven Stones and a Pale Shadow, Michael McFyfe, Angus' nephew.

Michael McFyfe

A mercenary from the north, Michael arrived in Stonebridge hungry, tired and looking for work. He had been walking for weeks at that point, making his way south, being guided only by a vague sense he was indeed going the right way.

It was there, in the Pallid Mare Inn of Stonebridge, Michael met the Leathe, Ailbhe Blackrose and the course of his life was irrevocably altered.

While we have in essence only completed the first two arcs of Seven Stones and a Pale Shadow, Michael has become almost a surrogate father-figure for most of the company. A generally well-meaning, if somewhat neglectful father-figure, who is trying his best but is largely under-equipped for the task.

The last we saw Michael, he was renting a small house on the western edge of the town, where he lives with Ailbhe. He has been trying to teach her to sail or at least navigate watercraft, but the Leathe has, as yet, proven to be a slow learner. Michael has found himself drenched in the water of the Adhainn River more than once due to Ailbhe's propensity to overturn all manner of boats.

Michael is a pretty good example of what your typical Highlander mercenary would look like. His shield in game is actually a targe, and as such should replace the central boss with an approximately eight inch long spike. HeroForge still has the occasional limitation sadly.

Keen-eyed readers may note the hilt of a large claymore slung over Michael's shoulder.

Michael's adventures can be read in the Seven Stones and a Pale Shadow campaign write-ups, which can be viewed via this link to the write-ups on Exilian.

Gwynevere McAilleanach
Our final character for this evening, Gwynevere was played by Ladyhawk95 during LaPimpDaddy's The Arcana campaign, which is currently on hiatus.

Gwynevere McAilleanach

A proud, willful young woman from the modest town of Dornoch, Gwynevere was born the daughter of Douglas and Bridgit McAilleanach, two wealthy landowners of a storied highland clan. Their firstborn, William, was strong and hale, ten years Gwyn's elder and the pride of the family. When Gwynevere was born, however, she was small, weak and sickly. Thanks to a skilled healer in Dornoch, Gwyn's life was saved and she matured, however she never did become the healthy and hearty daughter her parents expected and wished her to be.

She was strange as a child and events stranger still began to occur around her. Objects would levitate or even disappear, fires would start without flint or tinder and they would find her in the oddest locations, unable to determine how and when she had managed to get there. It did not take long for Douglas and Bridgit to realise Gwynevere was capable of harnessing magic.

Years passed, Gwyn's powers progressed and eventually she was forced to leave home, seeking tutelage in the academy of the Brilliant Towers of Drell. It is there the broader tale told in The Arcana picks up, but for now, the rest of Gwynevere McAilleanach's personal story remains unknown.

Good evening all.

The game of Norbayne has been in development now for a truly obscene amount of time. In that time, we have seen a massive amount of content developed, however finding and consuming this content has not always been particularly easy.

This is the first step in attempting to rectify this.

Please join us for a detailed deep dive into the lore and inspiration of the various peoples of Norbayne and its surrounding lands. This will be illustrated as best we can with miniatures created on HeroForge, as while our development team is blessed with a great range of assets and abilities, free time is sadly not one of them.

First, we shall be exploring the various people who make up the lineage known broadly as Midlanders, however in time we will see all the playable peoples available in the game, some who will not be playable upon release but we expect to provide support for down the track and perhaps, even some peoples we have no immediate playable plans for. Who knows what the future may hold?

Well, I do. The immediate future holds Midlanders.

Definitely would like to do the pub on that day. Would actually be able to attend it fairly easily I imagine.