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Follow the triumph, losses and intrigue of the Wood Elf Hawk Lords, STORY STYLE! A new kind of battle report!

The campaign is being run by our local gaming club: www.nagoyahammer.com
http://www.nagoyahammer.com/forum/viewforum.php?f=77

The Characters so far:

Calanan - former council member in the High Lord's court

Lord Talonveriel - the current High Lord of the Wood Elves of the Pine Craggs (Hawk Lords)
Lady Arlaen - his wife
Aria - their oldest daughter
Calonverial - their son
Talia - their youngest daughter

The witch - a beautiful dryad posing as a Wood Elf spellsinger

Chief Awei - Leader of Lord Talonveriel's scouts
Salamandar - An eccentric Life Mage Lord
Zalnafein - Beast Mage Lord

PRELUDE




'Do not look for me. Do not think of me. Do not love me.' Those were her last words, colder and more bitter than the wind pulling at her hair. Though, it was what she didn't say that hurt me more. I suppose I had not really expected to hear her say it, not after all that had transpired in the days before I made my choice. Still, even a wolf will bring food to a trapped animal. Am I not trapped? I feel it, more so than ever before, caught in a gust, tumbling and falling towards...towards my doom and the doom of us all.
***

After she left, I made my way up to the highest eyrie to answer the summons I knew would come. As terrified as I know I should have been, I was still thinking of Aria. There had been so many lies, so much deception. I began to wonder if Aria too was false. It would not be beyond the witch to have somehow conjured Aria's love for me as well. Go to her. She had bidden me. Whisper sweet words. Show her bellflowers and snowbells. Fill her cup. Fill her mind with doubt and dreams. Make her love you. Make her yours. Make her ours. And I did. Ariel help me, I did. But to what end, to mine own, or to us both?

***

The two eternal guards stood as silent as ever, but even their ancient stoicism was no match for the howling wind that pushed and pulled at them like a stubborn child. There was no point announcing myself, for at this altitude the wind stole the words the moment they left your lips. Instead, I merely lifted my cowl to show my face. They knew me well. Once inside the walls of the mountain hall I stood still a moment in the silence trying to calm myself. As if to remind me of my sin, I was robbed of even this simple pleasure. You are late. I wanted to hurt him, anyone, everyone - such was my anger. She awaits you in the main hall. She? Main hall? Surely, the High Lord would not want to… No questions. Go. Now! Had I fallen so far that even the serving staff were above me? I grabbed the elf about the neck and drew his face close to mine. Mind yourself, I told him; the most dangerous creature is he who has nothing to lose. He smiled, which took me back. But my Lord, his mockery was clear even through the choked reply, she has everything to lose. I would not understand the weight of those words until much later, not until I would see Aria once more.

***

As I approached the hall, the giant doors opened from within. Stepping inside I gained my first glimpse at the true designs of she who had begun it all. There the witch stood, a delicate hand upon the High Lord’s arm, smiling down upon me. The dread and dismay froze me. Her vengeance went beyond those in the mountains, beyond the ones in the forest below, beyond the great seas. All elves, all men and all beasts would die. I cried out a warning to all the highborn that had been summoned as witness, telling them of her treachery and screaming my own part in it. At least I tried to. Roots from the pine trees that stood like gargantuan guardians along the sides of the hall burst from the rocky floor and wrapped themselves around me from mouth to foot. When calm had been restored, she spoke. The High Lord does not wish to taste anymore of the poison that comes from your lips. You will listen to our Lord in silence, and as you can see, I have made certain that you shall. I glared at her, believing as all those consumed by rage do, that somehow my will alone would break me free from my captor. The roots only squeezed me tighter. The High Lord rose from the Eagle Throne and descended the stairs down to the floor. His face was expressionless, but his eyes betrayed the horror of his hate for me. I could not look at him. I closed my eyes. Look at me. I could not. LOOK AT ME! The desperation in his voice and my last vestiges of pride compelled me. She has gone. My daughter is gone and taken the sun and the air with her. Only darkness remains in here. He beat violently upon his chest above his heart. You have done this to me. You have made our house the doom of the Asrai! You have filled her with poison and lies and so you shall be the one to remove them from her. If you do not bring her back to me and fill the dark void that remains of my heart and soul, I shall fill it with your blood and then Ariel help me, I shall have to fill it with hers also. She dooms herself. She dooms us all. We will take what remains of my kinband; all that Aria did not corrupt to her cause, and go. Go to this land beyond the sea and do what must be done. As I was dragged from the hall I heard the witch yell Ariel save us all!, yet none heard the contempt in her voice, but I.

***

We left that night, and so followed the dark heart of Athel Loren.

PART 1

I arrived on the shores of this new land cuffed, caged and carried. If I could, I would have stepped proudly and purposefully onto the shores of this new land filled with the primal fury only the Asrai can personify. Instead I could only watch as my brothers and sisters did exactly that.
Even from the limited view my cage offered me, there could be no denying the wonder of this new land, the land the human discoverers had wrongly named Isla de los Meurtos – the Isle of the Dead. Dead? The name could not have been further from the truth. There was life here. So much so that every elf I looked upon had either fallen to their knees howling oaths to Kurunous or were singing praise to Lady Ariel.
Athel Loren was old, unimaginably so, its spirit was oft heavy and its message clouded by its great primordial intelligence, but not here. Here, the trees had still the unrestrained vitality of youth. The forest’s message was being spoken through all of its avatars, the rustling leaves, the singing birds, the humming and buzzing insects, the call of a great stag, the challenging growl of some unseen predator. Again and again the message was forced upon us, overwhelming all else. Welcome children of the great mother, sons and daughters of Kurunous. Welcome. Stay. Come rest. Come sing. Come hunt. Come play beneath us. Come kill for us. When the howling and singing about me stopped in sudden synchrony, I realsied I was not the only one who had heard the forests final invitation.

***


By night fall, the Waywatcher scouts the High Lord had sent to pursue Aria’s Kinband finally returned. I called out to them as they passed my cage, even managing to grab a fistful of one’s cloak. Aria! I pleaded, What of Aria? The scout whipped around and bared his teeth at me and growled. Such was the savagery of the response that I let go his cloak and scrambled backwards. The Waywatcher kindred were a feral caste, but this one was different, more brutal and more hostile.

The leader, Chief Awei, strode unannounced into the High Lord’s tent sending the Lord’s aids into a flurry of ineffectual fretting and panic. Within moments, I could hear the sounds of things breaking and smashing from within the High Lord’s tent. Unlike the still frantic aids, I knew the outrage had nothing to do with breached protocol. Chief Awei’s report had obviously not been well received by the High Lord. My guts twisted for fear that Aria had been found dead, until two more Waywatchers passed my cage carrying a dismembered head. There was no denying it was an elf, but it was also no Asrai. I had never laid eyes on one of its kind, but I instantly new it for what is was, Druchii, the dark ones. The Waywatcher held the head by its long black hair, and even now, after death, the female’s face wore the wickedness it had shown in life. The blood that caked what remained of the Druchii female’s neck was well dry and I guessed her death had not come from the long daggers of the Waywatchers. Well, there was also the arrow that protruded from the middle of woman’s forehead. It was an arrow I knew well; I had made it, for Aria.






For most of us, it was the first time to lay eyes on one of our dark cousins, and it took the desperate cry of the Lord’s lady to break us out of our fascination for the gory trophy. The High Lord burst from his tent, sword in hand. Chief Awei followed almost immediately with the string of his mystical bow drawn taut. Within moments a dozen other of the Lord’s Eternal retainers had appeared to defend their Lord. Yet, as the Lady’s cries grew louder, the Eternal Guards’ spear staves were lowered in perfect succession. Eventually, the High Lord’s lady emerged from the path the retainers had made for her, clutching her head in obvious agony. WHERE? She screamed. WHERE IS IT? The High Lord recovered quickly from his shock and rushed to his wife’s side. She was on her knees now, but when she heard her husband’s worry she swiftly rose and took a hold of the front of his jerkin. We must be rid of it! Please, Talonveriel! PLEASE! For whatever faults High Lord Talonveriel could be accused of, ignorance was not one of them. A moment of searching was all it took before his eyes locked on to the Druchii head. Leaving his wife in the arms of Chief Awei, Talonveriel marched over to the stunned Waywatcher and battered the head to the ground. The High Lord then swung his sword in a long arc over his head and cleaved the Druchii’s head in two. To mine own relief and for those near me, the Lady’s cries thankfully stopped.
In all the excitement, no one thought to even wonder how Lady Arlaen came to be there; she had not been on any of the ships.

***



I was fortunate, well relative to my situation, to have my cage placed near to one of the fires. Not only did it provide warmth, but it also provided me with news. It had not taken long for the Waywatchers’ findings to spread throughout the camp. The news brought me mixed feelings. I was glad Aria was alive, but the fact that she was moving closer to the witch’s goal left me with no appetite; not that the food I had been given was particularly enticing.

According to the Waywatchers, the battle had been brutal and bloody. The young glade riders that had succumbed to Aria’s fervor and zeal had been the first to die, having fallen to what was described as small arrows of iron – though what manner of bow could be strong enough to launch them, I could not fathom. Strange, some rightly pointed out, that the Glade Riders had allowed themselves to get into such a position of vulnerability, for it was not just the rider’s will that dictated their movements, but the horse’s as well. Surely, the horses would not have allowed themselves or their riders to charge so recklessly at the enemy. Perhaps, I thought, their youth and wish to please Aria had overcome their good sense, but I quickly dismissed that notion. The horses would not have fallen to the same hubris. I would have voiced my conclusion if I thought any would have listened. Our dark cousins were obviously more skilled and quicker with bows than our arrogance would have let us believe.

Aria’s kinband had returned the Druchii’s violence in a similar showing of deadly expertise and strength; the product of which was another reason I had lost my appetite; I had been served a part of the carcass for dinner. To call the creature grotesque would have been too kind. I could only liken it to the horned dragon lizards that rested at the highest perches of the mountain pines, though one would have to imagine one that was ten times as large. This creature was larger than a horse and the cruel harness attached to its neck and body clearly meant for it to be ridden. The state the giant lizard was in now though, as my dinner, also clearly meant that the Druchii had underestimated the Asrai archers. According to the Waywatchers, there were a lot more of the beasts and not all of them had been killed as their tracks and the remains of their meals had been found not far from the battle. The most disturbing part of the Waywatcher’s report was that the beasts that had survived had eaten their riders.





The tide of battle, the current storyteller revealed, had been turned by magic, both Asrai and the forest’s. All knew Salamandar to be a powerful if not slightly outlandish wizard; none were too surprised that he had followed Aria to this peculiar land. No, that was not surprising. What was unusual was the consequence of his magic. According to the scouts’ reports, ghostly, skeletal appendages had more than once tried to drag them down into the earth. If this were true, I pondered, it meant that magic did not dissipate as quickly here. I also wondered if the witch knew this, though I was almost certain she would.
The forest had also risen up to fight with Aria's kinband. The broken and shattered remains of some dryads had been the scouts’ first proof. What they had found next had apparently brought the scouts to their knees in supplication. The forest had born a Treeman, and the slaughter it and its dryad underlings had wreaked upon the Druchii said much of the forest’s magic and power. A spirit of such might this far from Athel Loren, could only confirm what all in the camp had already suspected – the forest in this land was not only sentient, but was very very angry.



No wonder, I thought, that the witch walked about the camp smiling.

Part 2

The longer I spent in my cage the more I began to see it as an extension of my soul. I certainly had the time to reflect on all I had done. Not all of my thoughts were of myself, of course. Aria and the witch held equal attention. In my less morose moments, I could even convince myself that I could win back all I had lost. At such times, I would dream of slaying the witch and presenting her head before Lord Talonverial. I would be cleansed by the cries of veneration, the stain of my crime washed away by redemption. Then, my dream would change. Instead, I stood beside the witch, both of us laughing as we stood on the cliffs watching the forest below turn on the Asrai in a frenzy of blood and slaughter. Aria was beside me, holding my hand and when the last elf’s blood was spilled, she would kiss me as she had done before. Then with the taste of her still on my lips, she would shove me off the cliff.
The dream always ended the same; the witch made sure of that.



Would you like something to drink? You don’t look well. They had hauled me into the Witch’s tent the moment I had finally fallen into an exhausted sleep. No doubt she had orchestrated their cruel timing. I must admit, she continued, I was surprised that you so proudly announced your treachery in the great hall, not concerned, naturally, but surprised. I wish to confirm the source of your sudden selflessness. She produced a bottle of wine and poured a glass for herself. She brought the cup to her perfect lips and took a delicate sip before placing the cup in my hand. Her cool fingers lingered upon my own. Do you find me as beautiful as she? My hand began to tremble so she held it tighter and brought the cup to my lips. I found I could not stop her. The witch was obviously pleased for after I drank she smiled and kissed me. Did Aria kiss you like this? She whispered. She has another now, you know. Again her lips met mine and again I could do nothing. It would seem forgetting you took far less effort than falling in love with you. A tear ran down my cheek. The witch laughed and to both my relief and alarming displeasure, broke her enchantment and bid me to sit. I had only the strength to collapse to the floor. Now, tell me why you would betray me? Had I not given you that which could never be yours? Her expression had become cold and dangerous, but I was finished with lies and her taunting of me had emboldened me beyond reason. Because I know what you are, who you are. My exhaustion made my intended defiance sound quite pathetic to my ears. And who is it you think I am? I felt a small satisfaction in managing a smile when I answered. You are Drycha. The speed at which she moved was surreal, but the pain she inflicted upon me was very real indeed. Her grip around my throat was crushing and the tips of her fingers had become sharp shards of bark that dug painfully into my skin. That shall be the final time you will speak that name in your perverted tongue. She tossed me to the opposite side of the tent as though I were nothing more than a fist-full of fletching feathers. When she came and stood over me her flesh and voice were soft once more. No, Calanan, were I her, I would not have given you wine, but rather served you your own blood. I was in no condition to voice my skepticism, my head had struck the corner of a chest as I had fallen and it was throbbing terribly. Besides, all now believe you to be a deceiver, a purveyor of untruths and corruption. Not a very original design, true, but a tried and tested one. Do you know what I find the most amusing of all? All of your life spent preaching and warning against the very weakness that would ultimately corrupt your own pitiful soul. That is how you will be remembered, that is your fate. Though, I have the utmost confidence that you will do your very best to change it. You, Calanan, will always want for the impossible. My head had begun to ache less, or perhaps my anger had been stronger than the pain. It seems we both share that same flaw, I managed. The witch’s lips curled into a wicked grin. And yet, the success of one woman will grant us both what we desire.

I had no idea what she had said to convince them, but the next morning I was among those riding out in chase of Aria.

Day 1

The first day of riding had not been easy. The Mage Lord commanding the small force had set a desperate pace. Had I left the camp well fed, rested and uninjured, I might have managed along with the rest, but it was all I could do just to stay on my horse. And yet, the misery I felt the first day was nothing compared to the horrors of the second and third, when the dead awoke and the sky fell.

Day 2

Cold, misery and hate, they hung in the air like a palpable malevolence. The horses’ stamped at the ground and rolled their eyes back into their heads. The giant birds of prey bit viciously at their riders, refusing to fly into the cruel sky and cutting rain. Even the wolves, creatures of the night, growled fearful warnings into the dark.

Why had Aria come to such a place? This was a place of despair, of death.

The mage, Valnafein, was the first to push onwards into the black heart of the evil. He spurred his mount forwards until he stood before a gate of twisted and cruelly wrought iron. There he stopped and turned to face us. Brothers! Sisters! Brethren of Seth! Our Lord has bid us to find his Aria, his sun and air, our Princess! I go forward! I hunt with Kurunous! I am unafraid! Valnafein’s lion mount roared in defiance of whatever foul creatures lurked amid the mist that had somehow surrounded us. The Asrai around me took up the great beast’s call in what soon became a chorus of determined battle cries.



As if to mock our bravado, the gates opened. The dead welcomed us.

To be continued…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vWjbW-JD23k&feature=BFa&list=PL14C06B30CC1715DF&lf=BFp

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V9glqHuQwmo&feature=BFa&list=PL14C06B30CC1715DF&lf=plpp_video


The rusted hinges of the gate into the mausoleum grounds pierced the air with a horrid keening. I watched as Zalnafein turned his mount just in time to bring his arm up to defend himself from a creature that had leapt suddenly out of the mist. I could not follow the creature’s movements; it moved with a quickness that was as unnatural as its grotesque form. Those around me, myself included, were stunned into indecision until Zalnafein’s pained scream revealed the thing’s violent intent and galvanized us into action. Eight arrows flew in perfect synchrony from mine and the bows of the other horse riders but at the last moment the creature flung itself forward with an intelligence that defied its brutish appearance.

Ultimately the creature’s cunning proved it had limits when Zalnafein’s lion whipped its head around and caught the fiend in mid-jump. As we closed in we were showered with its blood as the lion tore the head free from its body. The decapitated body fell some distance ahead of us. We all froze. The only sound was Zalnafein’s heavy breathing as he dealt a private war against the pain of the deep gashes the fiend had left on his arm. Despite the unnerving chill, I felt a drop sweat run down the side of my cheek. I dared not wipe at it for fear that the others would think I a coward. Yet, as I turned to check our flank, I saw that the hand of the elf beside me was trembling. I knew what he was feeling, the frightening knowledge that the Asrai were not the only masters of shadow.

The first sign that the enemy was again upon us was when the animals began back stepping. Their keen senses had smelt the death and rot long before our own. Only the great lion remained steadfast. Before long I too could smell their coming, a hideous stench of rotted flesh and decay. Out of the mist shambling figures began to emerge, each one a hideous mockery of life. Clumps of decomposing flesh hung from sullied bone and mouths hung open in a rictus of mindless malevolence. The inarticulate groans that came from from their lipless mouths bespoke of a single intent - feed. One of them bent down and begun to tear at the dripping flesh of the dead ghoul with swift savagery. Clearly, the things were not as slow as they appeared once they tasted blood.


Zalnafein, proving his experience and mettle yet again, began to bark orders and devise some kind of defense. The cavalry he shouted off to the flanks to find a way another way into the mausoleum ground and bring support from the rear. I doubt it was from my encouragement that my horse moved, but rather from the mystical urgings of the beast mage’s magic. As our horses leapt to obey the now lone and unaided Zalnafein, I looked over my shoulder to see the mage stand up in his saddle and draw power from the winds of magic. An amber glow surrounded him, slowly building in intensity until it finally exploded in a shower of blinding sparks, like a swarm of fiery embers. When next I looked back, the embers had transformed into flock of cawing ravens that began to feast on the undead with a ferocity that rivaled that of the zombie’s own. Before distance and the mist stole my sight of the mage’s private battle, I was heartened to see that at least the front line of the dead horde walked no more.

Overhead I heard the shrill battle cries of the hawks and eagles that had no doubt been similarly bolstered by Zalnafein’s encouragement and finally goaded into the air. My inattention almost cost me my life as I nearly fell from my horse as he made a sudden mad turn. I felt a pang of regret along with my relief for I had had to pull on his mane violently to stay on his back. Both feelings were soon replaced by something else, horror. Bursting from the mists came five skeletal riders. I was amazed at mine and my kin’s swift response, which resulted in a flight of arrows immediately shooting towards the clattering riders. One of the younger elves howled in triumph, but her elation ended in a choked cry when the arrows flew through our pursuers. The cackling wraiths spurred their skeletal mounts forward with an unnatural speed. It was Zalnafein’s call that saved us once more.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LRLdhFVzqt4

The dead trees that scattered the grounds began to bend and break, their limbs twisting and curving at unnatural angles until they began to take on lithe female forms – Dryads! Whether it was channeled through the mage or the very will of the land itself to reject the corruption that had befallen it, it had chosen now to act. The dryads tore themselves free from the trees and in a frenzy of screams and claws launched themselves at the charging wraiths. The eight of us communicated to our horses to stop so we could support our fey allies, but the animals refused. You cannot hurt them. The message came clear through our bond with the horses, but we knew that the origin of the message must have come from Zalnafein himself. Go. Their magic is stronger. The Dryads cannot distract them long. Go! And so we left our fae sisters behind, their spirits to die.