Event Teasers

Teasers

These are not in a specific order after event 2

In a month’s time, all across Almeryn, the world will mark the centennial of the Rupture.

One hundred years from the day on which the terrible truth was revealed.

The truth that the truest and deepest of evils can and will take form to devour light, life, and goodness.

We will mark this day, and the hundreds that follow it, with ceremony and remembrance.

The fallen shall be honored. Their names remembered.

The past shall be laid bare. Our failures and successes examined.

The future shall be invested. The bonds between people shall be empowered.

Here on Coventry, no less than anywhere around Almeryn, these ceremonies and remembrances shall be observed.

Here on Coventry, there will be rites and rituals of power enacted.

Here on Coventry, covenants shall be renewed and consecrations shall be strengthened.

We invite and entreat all who would to join us upon Coventry on the 20th day of the 9th month, that being September of this year, the 2,519th since the founding of Coventry.

At your request, the Priests of the Path shall direct a gate to bring you to Harrowdale in the north of Coventry.

On behalf of the Pedagogica Mysterium I look forward to sharing these celebrations with you.

May the light that shines upon your path never dim.

Arch-Mage Damasilia Highmore

Chancellor of the Red Tower

### Pre-Event 1 - Church of the Holy Aegis

He set the polished white shield down in the corner of the study and collapsed into the old chair behind the heavy wooden desk. The light was dim in the room, a pair of glowing globes of near white light and a fire, already lit in the hearth, throwing a cacophony of shadows around the room. He saw faces in those shadows sometimes, the faces of comrades and commanders long past watching him as he continued on. That night the faces in the shadows gave him his space, for which he was thankful. He’d been so very tired the past week or two, like he could feel the anniversary approaching in his bones like an oncoming storm.

He looked at the white and gold shield in its place in the corner of the room and felt the pang of loss he always felt this time of year. He and the Church didn’t have the best of relationships, but he still kept to the old ways and still endured the memory of the loss that few other institutions still felt so keenly after all these years. The Holy Aegis had been brutalized in the Rupture, both in losses of people and a loss of confidence. They had so perfectly missed the warning signs, become complacent in the lull of hostilities against the Demonae that when the Dynast fell it caught them completely unawares. When the Rupture had ended the Church had been decimated and they were in very real danger of losing their place of pride in Almeryn.

He read the letter from Damasilia again, in all it’s formal words and ceremony. He’d leave the rituals to her, but he would take advantage of the gathering nonetheless. He wanted to give the people that gathered a history lesson. Maybe if they really understood just how unprepared the Aegis had been that they wouldn’t make the same mistake. Hopefully, they’d never find out one way or the other, but hope was a poor suit of armor, preparation was far more effective.

He looked over at the shield once more, it would need polishing, but that was for another day. The shadows were growing long and the faces of memory had returned. They were his penance for living, and so he watched them dance along the walls for a little longer before finally leaving the study for his bed, tomorrow was another day to prepare.

### Pre-Event 1 - Siobhan Karkadann; The Shade

With the permission of the Margrave, and out of a growing danger to the world, I have decided to step forward today, and speak with you about something urgent and potentially dire. For centuries, there has been a danger to us all, lurking just outside our senses. I am sure that each and every one of you grew up hearing some story or another about it, though you may not, yourself, believe that it exists.

Do not take the stories lightly...The Shade is real and its danger, though seemingly diminished, has in fact not lessened at all.

For hundreds of years, there was a group dedicated to eradicating the gates that spread across the world and caught so many unsuspecting victims. Even before that group, there were just a few brave mortals who knew that they needed to fight against this threat so that others would not be needlessly lost. When this group was in the height of its jurisdiction, the world was taught the old ways, the ways of protecting itself against The Shade. But as the years passed, the group thought that the shepherding of the gates had done its work and that there were too few of them left to cause a significant threat, so they decided that training the citizens of the various lands to protect themselves simply was no longer needed. In barely two centuries those who joined its ranks died out. Now, there are so few of us left that The Shade can no longer be safely contained.

We were, perhaps, foolish to allow the training of the people to fall out of practice, or to allow our numbers to dwindle to almost nothing. We should have been finding new members to help us in our fight to keep Almeryn safe from the dangers of The Shade.

While I cannot change the decisions made by those so far before my time, I can...nay, I must...make a new decision. A better decision that will prepare the next generations to keep themselves and their loved ones safe.

The Shade houses many creatures...many beings...some intelligent, and some wild and savage. All dangerous, though if ever you meet one you may perceive it as benevolent. There is little that will come out of The Shade that will not be a danger to you in some way. There is much knowledge that has been lost to time, sadly. We do not know as much now as we did when our membership was in the thousands.

Now we have come to Coventry because the increased activity here has caused more gates to appear than ever before in my lifetime. A quest is upon us. A quest surely less daunting than the original one, but so close to impossible as to make little difference.

We must rebuild...we must find and return to the old ways, before The Shade becomes the end of us all.

If you would fight this fight...if you would take on this mantle to protect your homes and your people...meet with me. If you would learn of the fear you don’t yet know lingers in the far reaches of the lands of Almeryn, and you are brave enough to become a shield against it...meet with me. Let us talk of The Shade and how you might stand against that danger.

I will use the words of Aboloft Ravissier, our founder, when he called those around him to action: “We cannot allow the denizens of The Shade to hold us captive on our own lands, or to harm our citizens and steal our people. We must unite, and we must find a way to protect the world from this danger, before it simply consumes us all.”

In light of the open invitation to Coventry, I will be removing myself there for the foreseeable future to ensure that the many gates that open to Harrowdale are from fellow kingdoms and nations around the world, and not from places dangerous and unseen. That is where you will find me.

Siobhan Karkadann

### Pre-Event 1 - Lord Rellik; Sovereign Prince of Neirland and the Marches

To the good people of Neirland and the Marches,

As we approach this somber anniversary, once again our memory must dwell on those dark days of the events we call the Rupture. Though it be a century removed, it’s scars still mar our hearts. We will spend these days remembering the lives that were lost, both those taken from us by the reprehensible acts of the forces that stood against us, and those given willingly by the heroes, both likely and unlikely, to help protect our homes and our loved ones.

We must always remember that we stand here today because of those that refused to break when our world was at its darkest. We are the descendants of heroes and martyrs, our children grow up in the light because our Grandparents stood, unbowed, in the dark. It is a legacy that each and every Neirlander can be proud of, but it is also one we must work every day to honor.

It is because of this that I, along with my Parliament, have ordered that the twentieth and twenty-first of September of this year to be observed as days of Remembrance. I have asked the various faiths to plan services to this effect, and instructed my loyal nobles to arrange for local ceremonies to mirror the national ones we will have in Neir.

Though this will be a somber time I hope we will reflect on the events a century past with a glad heart. For though our ancestors must have stood cold with fear in the face of that terrible darkness, we can look back with reverence, knowing that a pantheon of heroes were forged in that brutal crucible, and that a stronger nation emerged from the shadow of those days.

And so, in a little less than a months time, stand together with your neighbors and families. And if in those days you shed a tear for those we lost too soon do so knowing that we are stronger, and hopefully wiser, for their sacrifice.

In Solemn Service,

Lord Rellik

Sovereign Prince of Neirland and the Marches

### Pre-Event 1 - Arch-Mage Gensher; Chancellor of the Magiary

A reminder about the modified autumn class schedule.

With the impending memorial celebrations throughout Coventry next month, the Magiary will be shortening the summer break by two weeks. The autumn class schedule will resume as of September 23rd. All novice Magiar matriculating for autumn classes should expect to return to Coventry no later than 8 pm Friday, September 20th, 2519 for orientation and your class schedule.

Attendance of the memorial rituals by Novice Magiar throughout the weekend of the 20th is not mandatory but is highly encouraged as this is a once in a lifetime opportunity for advanced ritual observation and tutelage with many of the finest Arch-Mages from the Red Tower and throughout Almeryn. Adept Magiar considering an application to the Red Tower would do well to attend and participate in the rituals. Many of the forms demonstrated will be necessary for you to learn if you wish to receive you hood.

Weekend elective courses will begin on Saturday the 21st at the 10 o’clock bell. In honor of the centennial celebrations the fee to audit the weekend elective courses throughout the term have been paid for by His Excellency, The Margrave and any Novice or Adept Magiar should feel free to attend. The locations of the elective classes will be made the morning of the 21st.

Arch-Mage Gensher

Chancellor of the Magiary.

### Pre-Event 1 - Athrannir Nightbranch; The Eminent Pursuit

Athrannir Nightbranch sat staring at roaring flames before him. He had built this fire from nothing and looked proudly upon his work. He grinned a wide smile moments before biting down on a freshly cooked piece of meat obtained from his kill earlier in the day. He looked around him and saw the many faces of young people while the flicker of flames illuminated their shadows and reflected in their eyes. These were the next generation of his God. These were the children of the Eminent Pursuit. The furrow of his grizzled brow softened as he began to speak to them.

“Greetings young ones. I see the future within you, and its destiny sits in the palms of your uncalloused hands. Soon that will change, you will learn to wield bows and blades. You will learn that bloodshed is not only for survival to men but also for joy. The ways of the world will stalk you, and you will become it’s prey many times in your life. You will learn from it. For every time you become the hunted of the world, there is a lesson that your hunter leaves with you. What you choose to do with these lessons will result in The Great Hunter smiling upon you, or leave you starving in the wild. Your ambition is what will make or break you in Almeryn. It is my job to teach you how to survive. Tomorrow you will be tested, and if you are successful, you will have appeased the God of the Hunt for the time being. I wish for you to know that this is my place in this world. I travel from nation to nation to teach those who choose the path of the hunt and what it means to live in the light of The Great Hunter. Tomorrow, you will be tested. Next week, more will be tested. In three weeks’ time, I will travel to the island of Coventry. It has been 100 years since the Rupture. Many years before you and I were born a great war spread far and wide across this world. Horrors of unspeakable nature descended upon us. Brothers turned their blades upon each other and neighbors burned down each other's houses. Empires perished and new were born from their ashes. We must never forget these horrors, and we must know what to do to maintain if they exist. It is only appropriate that I attend the celebration to ensure that those who wish to follow in our faith within Coventry are tested. Just like you, and those who came before you, and those who will come after. You are not alone in your trials, but you must learn how to survive alone.

Eat well tonight children, you will need it in the days to come.”

### Pre-Event 1 - Queen Cora; Kingdom of Gallia

Branches snapped beneath her feet as she darted through the Wald, scarcely missing trees in her panic. Droplets of sweat poured and hit her shoulders as she stole quick glances behind her. Her footsteps paired her labored breath and panic breathed into the air. She clutched her satchel, knowing that its cargo was the cause for all of this, however, dropping it now wouldn’t guarantee her safety to the wood line. Slices of stories of Fellmourn Wald played in her head shattered occasionally by brash shrieking.

In the weeks to come, Peridot Finnere was mourned as lost in the Kingdom of Gallia. Queen Cora Frostguard stood upon a beach and spoke at a memorial for her loss. The Queen clutched a box of treasures discovered in the young girls dwelling preparing for a tradition held closely by those who worship The Lady of Storms. One by one, Cora started to toss each item into the sea so that perhaps Peridot would meet her possessions again. As the box began to empty, the Queen’s fingers traced something peculiar. She looked down and discovered a piece of a broken locket. Deciding that nothing incomplete should be sent to death, she turned to her advisor, Master Roderic Tringali.

“See to it that the pieces of this are found”.

“As you wish, your Excellency” He responded.

He had many tricks up his sleeve, and such a task was well within his expertise.

### Pre-Event 1 - Alina, the Dynast’s Niece; Alperian Dynasty; Blackthorn Fortress

Alina enjoyed the sound of the wind whistling across the stone battlements. She enjoyed listening as she climbed up the tower stairs of an evening. The sound had become the musical backdrop of her exile.

In her less melancholy moods she knew that calling it an exile wasn’t fair. Taking this command when it was offered to her had saved her career and probably her life.

A thin smile pressed Alina’s lips together as she walked out to view the early evening from between the parapets. Recalling the scene in the Dynast’s small sitting chambers always made her feel a little remorse. She could...should...have handled things better. Alina believed that she had the right of it. The secretary to the first minister did have a face like a weasel. But maybe she went too far when she accused the secretary of treason. Alina knew it to be true but, and this knowledge came with no lack of chagrin, like to her style, she moved too soon and without enough tangible evidence.

So, when the first minister, in his haughty and imperious voice, demanded of the Dynast that Alina be stripped off honors, drummed out of the Legion, and even went so far as to suggest that she should be executed, The First Minister had a lot of power within the Court of the Dynast. But not so much that he could have the head of a favorite niece of Her Grace, The Imperious Dynast of Alperia, on the headsman’s block for upsetting him. The First Minister did have enough power, though, to have Alina removed from court.

The Dynast couldn’t just have her favorite niece running around the countryside though. Thus Alina found herself commissioned as the newest Right Honorable Commander of her Grace’s Frontier Legion. It took awhile for the legion to get comfortable with her. Alina couldn’t really blame them for her reception, they were used to hard and grizzled veteran commanders. Women and men who had either angered the wrong noble of the Alperian Court or had been sent here to serve out the last remaining years of their term before retirement. Here she was, young, far less experienced (to their eyes) as her counterparts, and of the Dynasts own kindred. It was assumed upon her arrival that she was a fatuous child given command for her blood and not her skills or her brains. Alina accepted that it would be so and set about to quickly show them their error.

Alina watched the snow capped peaks of the Varendale burn with the colors of sunset as a sweet sea breeze rustled her hair. She always felt a little disquiet at this time of the evening as she watched the shadows creep out of the Paladine. It felt a little too suggestive of portent for her comfort. Nonetheless, she invariably found her track leading up the stairs after evening mess most nights as though she alone must keep watch on the borderlands lest a tide of Dreadkin overwhelm them all.

### Pre-Event 1 - Realm of the Fae; Gate

The shoreline was unusually quiet.  Normally the waves crashed and the birds screamed.  The noise of the docks would, on any other day, make one think that the work never ended, but not today.  Today, there was a muted quality to the air.  Ships were tethered to shore, loaded and unloaded.  Crews went to the dockside pubs for a drink and a story.  Life moved forward, inch by steady inch, just as it always did.

No one seemed to notice the strange taste in the air except for her.

She sighed under her breath and wondered why she was bothering to attempt stealth now, after sending an announcement to the world.  Old habits died hard, she guessed.  She watched the area where the gate had appeared, making sure that no one disappeared.  She hated it when that happened.

An hour later, the Hirlath had managed to maneuver herself close enough to the gate that she could slip through unnoticed by the people rushing to and fro around her.  With one deep breath and a quick glance behind her, she slipped out of Almeryn.  No one noticed her passing.

\*\*\*

One step out of Almeryn, and she could smell trouble.  Nothing out of the ordinary about that, though.  She ALWAYS smelled trouble here, in the half light of a place that sane people should not purposely venture into.

But then came the shimmering, off in the distance.  She froze solid for an instant.  She knew what that was.  Her old mentor had told her stories about it, before he died.  Stories that had been passed down for centuries.  That was the Realm of the Fae.

With careful deliberation, she grounded herself and then obscured herself as best she could.  Movement now would only draw attention she most definitely did not want.  Well, if the stories were true, anyhow.  No one really knew.  She didn’t, for sure, but just like her stealth on the docks, old habits died hard.  This was only the second time in her life she had seen that shimmer, and it was just better to be safe than to be sorry, in her book.

Hunkered down and holding her breath, she watched as the Fae crossed the landscape, once so alien and now so familiar, and she frowned as it slipped through the gate into Almeryn.

Great.  That’s just what she needed right now…..

### Pre-Event 1 - Sanctuary Empowerment Ritual

Greetings Travelers,

In just a few short hours many people will be gathering here on Coventry. On behalf of the four pillars, I wish any who travel to Coventry with honest purpose and good intent to be welcome and well met. There are lodgings and accommodations available for you.

In the coming days many rites and rituals will be performed and witnessed.

Each of the five sanctuaries that have served these lands shall be re-empowered as is their need.

In a very rare event, not seen on Coventry in many long years, the Margrave has managed to procure the necessary supplies to enable the empowerment of a wholly new sanctuary and that ritual shall be enacted just after the opening convocation of the gathering.

This rite is the first of many that will be remembering the first days of the Rupture.

We do invite and request that any and all, willing to participate, attend the convocation.

Myself, the Margrave, and representatives from the Pedagogia Mysterium and the Pantechnicon will be in attendance to guide our portions of the rite. We would ask that those willing to participate keep in mind a name of someone who was affected by the Rupture and make their name known during the ritual.

You need not possess the skill of ritual magic to participate as this is a ritual of memory and of unity.

If you have not a name to keep in your mind then there are many of us who can provide you with one.

I look forward to meeting and seeing you all soon,

Brother Rowen

High Priest of Aphine

Church of the Hidden Light

### Pre-Event 2 - Lorna Blackwell; Black House Grey House, Aoran -  10/8/2019

The silhouette of Lorna Blackwell did not move with the flickering candlelight as she sat within her sanctum. She gazed upon the decrepit piece of parchment before her as the sands of her hourglass slipped through the eye. She did not handle the ritual scroll often, as it was older than she could estimate and she only used it in circumstances of dire need. Word had traveled around her temple of the Black House of a group of people on Almeryn who were acting out of mind and seemingly lead by a voice that was not present with them. Lorna had been well renowned for her ability to reach into the skies and witness things that tried to hide. It was her calling as a Priest of Aoran and she used her abilities to aid in the preachings of her God.

Within her sanctum laid the body of a young man who had entered a hut in outrage and began to lash out at its residents. He was slain within the hour and his body was swiftly brought to Lorna so that she may look into divining his intention.

Finally, she moved. First, her hand slipped to her hourglass tipping its ornate form to reset it. She then laced the lines of her scroll with her fingertips. She had used it many times before, but such power must always be respected, just as the diminished life that lay before her. She looked at the man, his eyes closed, and she clung to her necklace as she said a prayer to Aoran for his loss of life. Lorna tore the necklace from herself and placed it on one side of a scale that sat within her sanctum. She then reached down to the body of the man and took an emerald ring that sat upon his finger and removed it, with great difficulty. She gently placed the ring upon the other side of the scale, and though the items varied greatly in weight, she spoke the first lines of her parchment and the scales began to levitate so that they were even in balance.

Lorna’s eyes rolled to the back of her head as she stared up at the sky. In an instant, the candles within the rooms were extinguished, with no gust of wind to aid in their demise. A gasp omitted from her mouth, so quiet that barely the mice nesting in the walls of the room could hear it. She clutched at her neck as her gaze redirected to the body of the man before her.

“This sacrifice was not your own, and I fear that you will not be the last. She will see to that. I must warn the others."

Lorna gently began to pack her sanctum before her and grabbed two coins from her pouch. She placed them in the man’s pockets and as she fled from the room called out to an acolyte of the Black House in her hastened step.

“See to it that he is burned. Find his family and be sure they say their goodbyes. The son they knew lays before them, though he was not so in his final moments. Assure them, do what Aoran has bid you, and help them find peace.”

“Where are you going, Lorna?” the boy squeaked.

“I must travel back to Coventry, it will take me some time to get there, and by Aoran’s will I make it before the gathering.”

She did not wait for his reply as she stormed out of the temple.

### Pre-Event 2 - Death of Grand Duke Valin; Neirland and the Marches - 10/17/2019

The letter below has been widely distributed throughout Neirland, and copies have quickly made their way throughout Almeryn.

To The Loyal and Loved People of Neirland and the Marches,

It is with deep sadness and grief that I must announce the final passing of His Grace, Grand Duke Valin. His Grace passed beyond on the night of the 15th of this month while in Damryn representing the Throne. The Sovereign Prince and Princess would like to thank all those who have expressed their condolences in the past week and those that will do so in the future.

Through this supremely difficult time, they are grateful for the strength of the people of Neirland, a strength that they are relying on in this time of grief. The Princess has requested that Neirland observe a period of mourning for her beloved son. In honor of this wish the Royal Court will pause all unnecessary ceremony as they prepare for the funeral of the Royal Heir. The Grand Duke’s Lancers, and the Dragoons of the First Duchy will assume protection of Neir while their Royal Commander lies in state.

While this is certainly a time for grief and reflection, we all rest easy knowing that Her Grace, Grand Duchess Ellia, will assume her brother’s duties while shouldering her own, without pause or faltering step. Though she also stands shadowed in grief, she will not let that keep her from her responsibility and oaths during this dark time.

I would ask that those inclined, offer what prayer they can for The Sovereign Prince and Princess, the Grand Duchess, and for the spirit of the Grand Duke.

In Sadness,

Jerrick Brightfield

Lord Chamberlain of the Household

### Pre-Event 2 - General Matius; Protectorate; Empire - 10/17/2019

Senator Matius sat listening to the reports the news was grim. This Empire had sent envoys to an encampment that had been in training. These envoys had also, per a letter that had been sent from Coventry, had spoken to members of the Protectorate there. This meeting did not end as cordially.

The Centurion in charge of the camp did not have the discretion of the Citizens that were on Coventry. When the Empire Envoys suggested joining the Empire or that the Protectorate would be made an example of the Centurion had decided to make an example of the Envoys. As he closed in the attack was sounded.

The one Citizen left alive spoke of the ferocity and the skill of the Empire particularly troubling was their coordination and tactics. An entire century was destroyed like a cat playing with a mouse.

The Senate was in a near panic. Many of these children had not faced a battle. Those that had experience had witnessed the discipline and the tactics of the Legions resulting in overwhelming victory. Losses were a thing of the past. Like a legend told to children at night to frighten them.

They spoke of disbanding the Senate and naming him Emperor Matius. It became clear to him that this was the action the Senate would take. Democracy would die if he did not act. It was then he spoke:

“Fellow Citizens! This is an enemy we have not experienced in some time. That enemy is not Alexander Titus and his Empire. This enemy is fear. Through fear encourages us to give up our freedoms, those things we hold dear for security. I will not allow us to give into this fear.”

“I will accept a very narrow and constrained appointment. I will accept retaking the position of General of The Protectorate. During this time, I will have control simply over decisions relating to our strategy and dealings with the Empire. If we decide upon war, then I will wage it. If in my estimation, we should pledge allegiance to the Empire I will bring that decision with my rational before this august body for a vote. If these terms are agreed to, I will accept. “

The thunderous ovation rose. Their fear given way to hope.

General Matius signed as the new burden began to weigh upon him like a set of armor. He prayed that the Gods would see that hope was not misplaced.

### Notice from Brother Baljon - Canon High Priest of Keepers of Memory

To those traveling to Coventry,

To those that I failed to meet at the previous gathering, my name is Baljon Serveaux, I am a Canon High Priest from the Keepers of Memory. I was asked by my Patriarch to assist during the ritual to create the Margrave’s Sanctuary, and then with any other issues that may arise.

Due to the events that occurred during the centennial ceremonies, I have been asked to stay on Coventry and assist members of the various faiths with any issues that may arise. During the upcoming gather, I would like to make an effort to meet with and talk to as many of you as I can, either individually or in groups. I would like to learn what plans the faithful may have or what issues you are facing.

I will do my best to seek out as many as I can, but feel free to seek me out if I miss you.

Yours in service,

Brother Baljon

### Event 2 - St. Harlov’s Day

A series of loud clanks hit the walls of the room as multiple lanterns were placed on the oak table. One by one, bodies began to fill the chairs around the room and the feeling of exhaustion was palpable. Weary eyes darted to each other from every corner of the lantern-lit room and behind them were flashes of fear.

A woman in dark robes stood slowly at the head of the table and addressed the group.

“Greetings, Lamplighters.

I know that you are tired from your travels. I wish that I could say that your time to rest is now, however, my words that will come next are quite contradictory. It is your duty to protect those of Almeryn from the horrors that live in the night. As you know, St. Harlov’s Eve fast approaches. No one really knows the reason behind the revenge of creatures that lurk on St. Harlov’s Eve, only that their might and fury is accentuated in the Saint’s twilight. Every year on this evening, we travel the world to warn them and bring those who find themselves heroic to stand against the foes that crawl out of the woods. From the Kestoff Wildlands to Fellmourn Wald, no one can count themselves safe from the terrors. It is our charge to bring these creatures to light. It is our duty to stand with those who raise their swords to the horrors and guide their way through the darkness. There will be a great gathering of heroes in Coventry the weekend after next. Go now, show them the way, warn them of the night, and be their light.”

She picked up her lantern from the table and swiftly made her way to the door.

Without a word, all the others did the same.

### Event 2 - St. Harlov's Day

Though the exact details of St. Harlov's life are lost to antiquity, stories tell of a missionary from the Vital Spirit who traveled and survived on the charity of others. In autumn nights when dark comes early and dangers both of this world and outside are common, St. Harlov's day is celebrated throughout Almeryn. From the noble cities of Alperia, to the most humble Freelands tent, people remember that in dark times the help of others is needed and should be celebrated. Food, drink, and all manner of treats are left outside of homes or given freely to travelers. It is said that it is the spirit of St. Harlov who bestows blessings and boons on travelers and their hosts throughout these nights.

### Pre-Event 3 Teaser, 2022 - Harrowdale Keep; Coventry. Conclave of Nations.

Harrowdale Keep

Home of Cadence Abernathy, Reeve of Harrowdale

Great Hall

Deep into the Night

A breeze blowing into the great hall, mild with the promise of the coming spring, guttered the low burning candles that were struggling to illuminate the long table. A table filled with the clutter of tomes, ink pots, papers filled with notes, and forgotten mugs of liquid whose steam, if there had been any, had long since evaporated into shadows dancing along the high dark walls.

Three figures sat on one side of the table with a lone fourth figure seated on the opposite side facing them. The guttering of the candle seemingly rousing the lone figure from deep contemplation. The Stout Hirlath looked askance at the candles, picked up a sheaf of paper and leafed through them for a moment before stopping to examine a single page.

He stood and lifted a goblet from the table in front of him.

The Margrave began to address the three Reeves sitting opposite him.

“We have been here for many hours now and I think that we have examined what we know from these past months from every angle and discussed every detail at least thrice. Much has befallen Almeryn since the autumnal equinox. We know what the signs seem to point to…dark times seemingly We must all be ready to stand against those who would try to assail the peace of the world”

As the cry of the watch announced the fourth hour of the new day, the Margrave lifted his goblet in a toast. “Thank you, Cadence, for your hospitality today. May Avinyar’s blessing be upon your hall. We have spoken at length and I want to ask again, are there any objections to this course of action?”

The Margrave’s glance fell across the three Reeves, holding the gaze of each for a moment. Once he broke eye contact with the last, the tall Theran he took a breath and let it out slowly.

“Very well, it is decided. Messengers will be sent out at first light. We'll see just who is still willing to heed the call of Coventry. In two weeks time we will hold a Conclave of nations. The leaders of each of Almeryn’s nations shall be invited and entreated to attend and we must make them listen!”

As the Margrave spoke these last words, The fourth person in the room stirred and addressed the others.

“I think there is another power in the world that we need to consider and bring into this conversation. Not for the sovereigns and lords alone must we send. For while their words may be valuable, their legions may do nothing to defend this island. There are many who, in the last year, have heard our call and have attended our needs with strength and wisdom. It is their shields that have, so far, defended this island from the attacks that came without warning and their wisdom that has seen through the shadows that cloak the enemy. What we know and what we have seen is largely by their hand and thus their voices, too, should be heard.”

As he spoke these words the rest of those in the room nodded their agreement.

“Your words ring with wisdom, Addercroft” Said the Margrave. “It was by their hand that the consecration of the new Sanctuary was completed”

The tall Theran nodded at the Margrave and drove a finger into his own chest “ And it was by their actions that Fellstone Keep was freed of the Chimera menace that attacked last fall, and before that they defeated the Chimera when they first reappeared and threatened the Gate”

The Margrave downed the remnants of his goblet and set it down on the table.

“Then it is agreed that any path forward must include these champions. We will include them in the invitations that go out at dawn and pray that they too heed our call. The morning swiftly approaches and there is yet much to do before our messengers are to leave. We all know what it is that must be done so with that I will bid you all a good night and pray that the gods look favorably upon our enterprise here”

Pre Event 3; Death of the Margrave

The susurration of the halrgum’s sword parting leather, flesh, & bone penetrated the din of the battle.

It was the last thing that Felix Valmundur would hear in this life.

As his body began to slump to the ground, a thought, tinged with sadness, flashed through his mind.

His eyes fixed on the green shoots of the irises just starting to poke through the spring thawed ground…”I’ll miss the spring on Coventry. The birds among the flowers are always so lovely this time of year”

Even as the light behind his eyes was failing, he was able to discern the radiance of Grace approaching and the Margrave of Coventry knew that, at least for today, the Island he had come to love so dearly, would be kept safe from these marauders of Embridge Haven.

That knowledge was a balm against the pain of his life’s blood spilling into the earth that he had served for so long.

Pre Event 3: Margeen & the Wilding; Coventry.

She watched with sparkling eyes, hidden from the revelers, caught somewhere between anger and amusement. She was amused with the Fae for being who they are, and in her mind’s eye they were very predictable. She knew their ways, and for thousands of years they hadn’t really changed. Even now, as She watched the Wilding, She knew exactly where She would need to be next. Which is why She was also angry. She had spent every moment of the last few nights blocking her cavorting people from Almeryn, diverting them to amusements in other places. If She was not careful, She would have to outright command them to stay out of Almeryn soon, and that would not hold well.

She murmured under her breath, the words old…too ancient for any mortals to understand, though no one was there to hear her. She heard The Stag in the distance and rolled her eyes. He was making noise on purpose, allowing the revelers a brief thrill of excitement that they might be closing in. But She knew better. The Stag was ancient. No one knew quite how old, but She remembered stories She had heard, somewhere long ago…perhaps when She was a child.

With a muttered oath, She shook her head. “When I was a child…” She murmured into the darkness. She couldn’t remember that far back. Frustrated with herself now, as well as the revelers She was herding, She turned and stepped through the gate at her side.

Emerging onto the beachline of Coventry, She imagined that the mortals could hear her teeth grinding all the way across the island, shattering the silence of the night. She paused for a moment to look up at the moon, and wondered if She would be able to keep The Fae from being seen on Almeryn this time. Every year since her people had found their way through The Shade to Almeryn, The Wilding had been celebrated again. And every year, She spent weeks attempting to keep them from being seen by Mortals. Most of the time, She succeeded, but She found herself feeling weaker, more tired this year. Perhaps it was time to stop protecting the mortals…maybe they were strong enough to protect themselves…

She knew approximately how much time She had, and She needed to get to the next gate before The Wilding came through, or He would never forgive her. With a sudden surge of Will, She moved quickly off the shoreline and into the trees, heading for the center of Coventry, ready to head off The Wilding before the island became the first place on Almeryn to be invaded by The Fae in millenia.

The center of the island was thankfully quiet. There were not many out and about. But She could hear The Wilding in the distance…they had entered Almeryn again. She glanced at the few cottages and the tavern that were the only buildings nearby and breathed a sigh of relief. It was still quiet enough here, even after all this time, that The Wilding was unlikely to cause too much of a stir before She could divert them. But just as they came into view, She saw the little girl, no more than eight or nine, who had clambered out of the window and was perched on the rooftop of a nearby cottage.

With a flurry of movement that She had to strain far too much to achieve, She reached the little girl's side. There was a tiny squeak from the little girl as She snatched her up, and the revelers surely caught sight of the gate she hastily created and stepped through. She snapped the gate closed quickly, hoping that The Wilding had not seen and would not follow. She moved quickly through the darkness, dodging the unseen things. She did not hear the little girl sobbing in her arms. She was too focused on avoiding The Wilding.

But then, finally, the little girl's sobbing broke through the fog of her focus. She looked down and saw a tear-stained face, frightened tears pouring down little cheeks. She could feel the quaking of the tiny creature She was holding. She sighed again and spoke a few more ancient words into the darkness. Suddenly She and the child were both illuminated, surrounded by wisps of light.

“Thank you, gentle wisps.” She whispered to the lights, before focusing her words to the little girl.

“Don’t be afraid, little one. My name is Margeen, and I will not let you be harmed.”

The little girl sniffled and looked at the woman holding her, and then hiccuped a little before speaking. “I want to go home.”

Margeen blinked. She wasn’t sure how long they had been in The Shade. Cursing, she opened another gate. The little girl sniffled again. Margeen hoped that they hadn’t been gone too long. She frowned as she saw light on the other side of the gate, but then she heard the echo of The Wilding and relief poured through her. It was only a little time, not enough to matter.

“I’m sorry, little one.” Margeen said, stepping through the gate and back onto Almeryn. “You do not need to be afraid. They are gone and will not come again.” She set the little girl down on her feet and motioned towards the cottage. “You should go back to bed before your parents discover you have been outside.” The little girl nodded and turned to walk towards the cottage. Margeen quickly opened another gate, knowing she had a few more hours to keep The Wilding under control before she could rest. But before she could step through the gate, the little girl turned back long enough to wave at her, smiling though her face was still stained with tears.

Margeen blinked and found herself waving back before she shook herself and stepped through the portal. What was wrong with her?

When she stepped back into The Shade, Margeen did so with renewed vigor. She didn’t know why she had ever started keeping the Fae in check, but she knew why she would continue to do so now.

Pre Event 3; Coventry, Fae Court, Shade

The creature stood in the shadows, just at the edge of trees, watching the tavern. This place was so boring. Why his master wanted to have this place was just beyond his comprehension. He’d much rather stay in their home, where everything is beautiful all of the time. But no…his master wanted very much to find the weaknesses of this place…wanted to have all these pathetic mortals as his own. None of them could perform half the duties of a court that a Fae could, but his master didn’t seem to care…

And that hag of a Queen kept appearing. Whatever mischief he tried to cause, she always thwarted him. If he did not succeed soon, his master would take it out on him. He would have to gather cohorts in this endeavor. Maybe he could have her killed…

No. There were too many rules. He had to remember the rules. Otherwise his master would be very angry, indeed.

The creature hated her, like all of the others in the court that she held prisoners to her Will. His master used to allow them much fun, but she keeps them in check, and treats his master as if he has no power of his own. The creature would dearly love to kill her, but it has been forbidden. He wished he knew why.

Scratching his head, he wondered if he could find any Wargs to let loose on Coventry. But then he sensed it…ever so slight…pervading and elusive all at once…He knew what he could do. And his master’s nemesis would never suspect his court at all.

The creature grinned into the darkness, stepping backwards through a gate into The Shade.

Pre Event 3; Freelands

The amber glow of a bonfire filled the spaces between the bodies of the Freekindred that sat around its warmth. It was not uncommon for many of them to be gathered together before a battle like this. There was a certain magic about the hearth of a fire and the camaraderie of tales told by its light. Many of the Freekindred huddled together waiting patiently talking among themselves. Jokes were muttered and course laughing followed. Then suddenly a solemn silence filled the crowd as a pathway formed through the masses leading to the flames.

The body of an old woman made its way to the hearth. Her scarred face was known far and wide through the Freelands. As she took her place next to the fire you could see a wave cast over the people who stood around it as they bowed in her presence. Her silver hair showed bright against the light of the flame and she began to speak.

“Greetings my children. I see many mighty warriors standing before me on the eve of a battle. Like many of your kind before you, you will fight valiantly for the Freelands. These Embridge Haven Raiders have come to our lands seeking to plunder it and will be met tomorrow with your steel. You will bear your bravery as scars and they will not know the dawn of a new day. Tonight I will tell you the tale of a mighty warrior who came before you, of a battle they fought fiercely for their beloved homeland. Jarl Macenius Vecuvius.

Macenius was a young Jarl. He had been recently elected by his clan to lead, though he was no stranger to the throws of blood on a battlefield. He was known famously for black wode that he wore heading into battle. One day as his clan of fifteen Freekindred had settled down to tent for the night on a journey to Hurstwic they were attacked by a mighty beast. The beast stood as tall as a tree and when it opened its maw its teeth were as swords covered in thick black tar. When the beast spit, the substance that spewed from its mouth dissolved the grass that it fell upon.

One look at this beast and the Freekindred began to scatter and gather their weapons, but the bloodshed was already upon them. The beast made quick work of the camp with a wave of its tail. All makeshift structures were gone. The Freekindred turned their weapons towards the beast’s body to no avail for the leather of its skin was as a stone and could not be penetrated by their weapons.

Macenius took a deep breath. His clan would be a memory within moments. He grabbed his sword and with a running start jumped onto the back of the beast. The creature bucked with rage and clawed at Macenius, but the soldier did not falter. He made his way up the back of the foe until he reached its neck and plunged his sword into the creature’s eye. A scream infested the air that could have been heard for miles, then a crash as the monster hit the ground.

Bravery. Honor. Resilience.

You all have the very same virtues within you. Remember these tomorrow as you go forward into battle, and know that those who came before you walk with you.”

As the Matron finished speaking, the wind came through and extinguished the fire to all but embers. Silence filled the space quickly. What moonlight that existed before was swallowed by clouds so that darkness cloaked the land. From the dimness came a blue light of apparitions that began to form around the fire. The bodies of sixteen figures began to form in iridescence around the dying flames for all to see. The last figure to appear had black markings all over his body. The figures stayed for a few moments and then their magic dissipated into a mist that surrounded the bodies of the Freekindred who were sitting by the fire. The magic that lingered left the Freekindred invigorated, they felt stronger, braver, ready for battle. The flames rose once again and cheers rang from the crowd, but as they looked around, the Matron was nowhere to be found.

### Pre Event 3; The Four Princes

The Four Princes, now that’s a classic story. I think my grandmother was the first person to tell me that story. There’s a different version in every hamlet, city and tavern across Almeryn. Some are meant for kids, others are darker, I heard one version in Gallia that focuses much more on the Prince of Terns than the other three. I’ll give you the most common version of the story, the one that I learned as an apprentice.

The story goes that there was once a Queen and she ruled a vast kingdom. For as far as the eye could see, from horizon to horizon. She ruled the seas and the forests, the plains and the mountains. The Queen had four children, and the Princes fought and fought. Each thought they should be the one to rule the kingdom after their mother. They would fight and each would try to prove to their mother that they should be the heir. One day the Queen, frustrated and concerned that there would never be peace in the kingdom, called the four Princes together.

She loved each of them and knew that each would serve their people well, but she couldn’t decide which Prince to choose. She decided to set them a task, she asked each to go out into the kingdom and show her why they should be the next ruler. She gave them each a year to go out and prove that they should be her heir.

The first Prince was patient and nimble, and prided himself on his skill with a bow. He decided that the best way to prove himself to their mother was to go into the forests and hunt the biggest and most terrifying monsters. And so that is what he did, with bow in hand he spent a year hunting the monsters that plagued the kingdom. Each monster was larger and more terrible than the last, each more difficult. The final monster the Prince tracked had plagued the kingdom for years with no one ever being able to bring it down. The prince spent weeks stalking the beast before doing what no one thought possible. He spent a year hunting the forests of the Kingdom and when the year was up piled countless trophies before his mother as proof of his skill and patience.

The second Prince was brave and adventurous and loved the sea, he enjoyed nothing more than to spend time on his ship weathering any storm the sea could throw at him and show no fear. To prove his worth as an heir the Prince decided to show that fear had no hold on him. He boarded his ship and he and his crew set sail. For a year the Prince sailed the most dangerous straits, and the most terrible storms, proving that no fear could touch him. It is said that it was during this year that he was the first person to ever sail the Nariven Reef successfully. The Prince sailed every storm and every hazard, including what was possibly the largest storm ever seen in the Prince’s lifetime, and came out the other side in no small part to the Prince’s bravery and inspiring courage. A year after the Prince departed he returned home with the charts in hand to prove his journey.

The Third Prince was the strongest, willing and able to endure any hardship. Given the task by the Queen he simply packed a few essentials and set out for the Northern Mountains, deciding to prove that if he could endure anything he would be worthy of being his mother’s heir. The prince spent the year in a small cave in the mountains, learning from the animals around him how to survive in the world he’d never been in. He struggled against the rains and winds that howled down the mountain side, he trapped what animals he could and made his own furs to stay warm. The Prince fought off bears and wolves who saw him as nothing more than prey. When the winter came the Prince struggled to stay warm and find food, but he never gave up and at the end of one of the harshest winters in a generation, the Prince returned to the palace gaunt and pale, his body proof of his trials.

The Fourth Prince was quiet and loving, he enjoyed nothing more than going out among the kingdom and taking care of the people. For his task he chose to go out and be one of the people for a year to prove his humility. For a year he lived and worked in a simple farming village, never telling the villagers who he was. The year was hard and there was little rain so he worked the land like all the others, laboring and sweating with the people his mother ruled. He helped the village irrigate the fields working hard all year to save the crops. When the harvest had been brought in, he rationed himself harder than the others to make sure there was more food for the village. When the winter was over he returned to the palace, with the names of every villager, all having survived the winter because of the hard work and sacrifice as proof of his fitness to rule.

With the Four Princes returned from their trials, the Queen considered what she had learned of her sons. Each had shown great abilities necessary for being a ruler, but each were so different. Finally she came to the only conclusion she could and called the Princes before her. She told them that each of them had impressed he so much that she was still unable to name a single heir and instead the four of them would rule a portion of the kingdom. The First Prince whose skill and patience had been so deftly shown would be named the Prince of Herons and would rule the forests and marshes hunting the great beasts of the world. The Second Prince whose bravery and darring on the seas had proven to the people that fear should hold no place in their hearts would be named the Prince of Terns, and would rule the seas and ports of the kingdom, forever at home on the waves. The Third Prince, who showed that with strength and determination that any hardship could be endured would be named the Prince of Ravens and would rule the mountains and deserts where only the most determined could live. The Fourth Prince who had shown that love and humility was core of being a good ruler would be named the Prince of Sparrows, and would rule the farmlands and plains where the people he loved worked and lived.

The Four Princes accepted their mother’s decision knowing that neither could have done any of the other’s tasks and yet all were necessary to properly rule the kingdom. Each went back to the place they had grown to love and respect. The Prince of Ravens went back to the quiet and simple life on the mountain. The Prince of Terns went back to their ship, eager for the ever changing and never boring life at sea. The Prince of Sparrows went back to the farms and villages at the heart of the Kingdom, ever eager to help them prosper and reach even greater heights. The Prince of Herons went back to the Forests and Marshes where the darkness hid those that would do harm to the Kingdom, and waited for the monsters to return.

At least that’s the story I tell the children.

### An excerpt from “A Treatises On the Priesthoods of Almeryn”

By Vestern Marra, Hierarch of the Hidden Light

And

Warrick Lan, Keeper of Memory

The Priesthoods that make up the various religions and faiths of Almeryn share a great deal in common when looking at their structure. Whether this is do to parallel development or people tending to copy social structures they are already familiar with is unclear, but being familiar with one religion will almost always help you understand the structure of another.

The most common member of all of the clergy, regardless of religion, are the priests. Serving as the backbone of the clergy, the priest is responsible for the day to day spiritual labors of a church. While the duties of a priest obviously differ between religions, at some level they all serve as the faces of their faiths with the lay population. In the larger capital cities a single temple might have many priest to help minister to the local populace, while in the villages and less settled areas a single priest might care for a number of villages, working out of shared Chantry temples or local shrines. We go further into the various duties of priests later in this work.

Above the priests sits the high priests. The duties of the high priest are often quite similar to those they held as a priest but also begin to take on more responsibilities within the structure of the church. Most priest never advance to this rank and it takes dedication to both the church and the divine to fully advance.

In the administrative hierarchy of the church, most churches recognize Hierarchs as the next level of authority within the church although it is not generally an official rank. Hierarch is a title bestowed on respected senior clergy, however unlike all other titles and positions it can be bestowed by both Senior members of the faith or lay congregation and priesthood. Hierarchs serve as advisors to both the Primarch and Patriarchs, as well as the ordinary priests. Hierarchs generally don’t have any additional authority than a High Priest would have, except what they have earned by reputation. While it is by no means required, it is considered to be standard to be granted the title of Hierarch, either from above or below, before gaining higher office.

Above Hierarch sits the Primarch, the leader of a church in a nation. At this level the authority of the station is highly dependant on the church in question. In some the Primarch has near absolute authority without recourse above them, in others the Primarch is answerable to either a council of other Primarchs, or a Patriarch or Matriarch. As stated above, Primarchs are advised and counselled by Hierarchs and other members of the church as needed.

The Patriarch or Matriarch is a term that is used slightly differently by most faiths. In some they are a singular ruler of the church throughout all of the lands of Almeryn, in others they are merely the chosen leader of the Council of Primarchs, and in others still, no Patriarch exists at all and a Council of Primarchs is the highest authority. While it is difficult to generalize the powers of a Matriarch, generally they are the highest authority within the church, are highly knowledgeable within their faith and highly influential in political circles.

The authors wish to note here that while not technically priests, Temple Wardens are also capable of holding the title above high priest, and while not common, have been raised to Patriarch, most often within the Church of the Holy Aegis. The history of Temple Wardens deserves it’s own manuscript, however it outside the scope of this particular work.

There are a number of common positions that exist throughout the many faiths and religions of Almeryn that sit outside the typical hierarchy. These titles can generally be held by priests of any rank, although most priests generally go through a period of time as a regular priest prior to moving into any specialized role.

Some priests show far more interest and skill with research and books than with dealing with the public. These Canon-Priests spend much of their lives deep within the libraries of their church, recording and researching the lore of their faiths. New rituals and ancient prophecies are all the territory of the Canon-Priest.

The various faiths all have vested interests in both sympathetic organizations and holy locations. Priors are tasked with handling both of these responsibilities. A prior may be attached to an organization or order that is important to the Church, ministering to the members. A number of ships of the line in the Gallian Navy have priors assigned to them from the Wayward Vast, and a Grand Prior from the church advises the admiralty as a whole. Prior are also assigned to maintain sites of specific religious significance. The Green Cathedral is maintained by a Prior of the Eminent Pursuit, and a prior from the Holy Aegis maintains a shrine at the site of the great ritual that banished the deamone from Almeryn.

Priests have a wide variety of duties and roles within the various faiths, the most common is ministering to the lay congregations of the church. As each church has different duties within the society the duties of the priesthood varies. We will try to provide a brief overview of common duties of the more structured religions.

The Grey House and Black House are an interesting topic of discussion on their own as they are to individual and nominally separate religions devoted to a single god. Due to this there are occasions, that while not common, are certainly not unheard of, of priests of one House ministering to the faithful of the other House in times where one is needed but not available. The Grey House primarily deals with Judgement in terms of the temporal law. They serve as ministers to judges, advocates, and nobles, advising them and performing rituals and services to help grant the God of Judgement’s blessing on their actions. The also commonly serve as arbitrators and mediators of disputes within their communities. It is no unheard of for Grey House priests, and temple wardens more commonly, to act as religious bounty hunters seeking those that seek to escape judgement.

The Black House serves the God of Judgement in a different way, assisting with the final passing of the dead and dying. They are responsible for funeral services, counselling the grieving, preparing bodies for burial and maintaining graveyards and crypts. Where the Grey House priests work to ensure the accused face judgement, more adventurous Black House priests and temple wardens often actively pursue undead and the necromancers who create those abominations, for damaging the souls of the departed, or preventing them from crossing over all together.

Keepers of Memory while similar to the Black House priests in that they are known for dealing with death and the dying, differ in their approach. Priests of the God of Remembrance focus on the life of those who have passed. Again, they minister to the dying, collecting stories of their lives, and counsel the grieving. Part of their duties involve education, turing the stories of those who have passed into lessons for the living. In small communities they often serve as record keepers where needed, keeping records of life events important to the communities.

Priests of the Church of the Holy Aegis have one of the most varied routines. From ministering to the local militias and acting like priests of other faiths, blessing those who see the divine’s aid, to going into battle with First and Second Orders of the church. It can, at times, be difficult to tell the priests of the God of Protection apart from the Temple Wardens. In any place where the Church has a presence, even if only temporary, one of their main aims is to assist in the protection of the local area. They often help to train locals, helping to deal with specific issues in the area, be it bandits or chimera.

The priests of the Exalted Forge are some of the most productive priests in Almeryn. Almost to a person, the priests in the church are trained and practicing craftsmen as well as taking on the responsibilities of priesthood. Creation is a act of prayer to the Exalted Forge, the Matriarch is a master silversmith for example. On a daily basis a priest is responsible for ministering to the craftsmen in their area, blessing the craftsperson as well as their works. They also collect and record new techniques in the various crafts, as well a teach and train new craftspeople where there is a need.

While all priests are capable of using their blessings to heal the wounded, for the priests of the Vital Spirit those gifts sit at the center of their ministry. Daily, their priests care of the sick and wounded, whether in the community or in their temples, minister to healers and alchemists who use their skills to aid those in need, and feed the hungry. They are also responsible for blessing and protecting homes. Priests of the God of Healing and Hearth work closely with the Black House, and the Priests of the Holy Aegis responsible for protecting children.

Priests of the Wayward Vast tend to be most concentrated along the coasts of Almeryn, spending their days ministering to the sailors and fishing fleets of the various kingdoms. They work with the Exalted Forge to bless new boats, hoping to help the crews survive the inevitable storms and with the Black House to help honor those lost at sea. Most Wayward Vast priests are comfortable on a ship, and the Church has a few shipborne temples that roam the fishing grounds to offer services for those sailors who may not see home for weeks at a time. Priests that work on land man temples in the dock districts of the world’s port cities, while others move around the countryside helping to ensure storms do no damage crops or prevent harvests.

The Church of the Hidden Light ministers to those who seek to find information. Often they find themselves assisting Magiar with rituals, offering blessing on their endeavours to find knowledge thought lost to the ages, and recording that information if and when it is shared with the church. They also minister to the nobles and courts of the lands, working besides, if not with, the Grey House. They maintain libraries, but public and private for the populace, and encourage literacy and are often teachers in the communities. Some Priest spend their lives wandering the countryside ensuring the youth have the skills and knowledge necessary for them to seek their own secrets later in life.

Priests of the Church of the Inward Mind spend their days like many others, focusing on taking care of their parishioners, spreading the word of their god and advancing their church. Dreams, inspiration, the healing of the mind, are all common focuses of the Church of the Inward Mind. They help the faithful send prayers to the God of Dreams in hopes of their wishes coming true. The priests also work with the Church of the Vital Spirit to help tend to those people whose minds have been afflicted. Some help to run sanctuaries where those seeking peace, away from the world, can gather and seek answers to their own questions.

The Priests of the Eminent Pursuit wander the world ministering to those who need help along their path. Both a literal and metaphorical faith, the Church seeks to encourage hard work and a drive to reach one’s chosen goals, whether that is in one’s chosen profession or a literal hunt for one’s dinner. The quest is important to any follower of the God of the Hunt, and the priests assist in these quests, advising and guiding the faithful towards greater achievements. In smaller villages where survival is always on people’s minds, they bless hunting and gathering parties, hoping to ensure a bountiful harvest.

While the specific tasks may look different, the priesthoods are, at heart, very similar. Service in one form or another is at the heart of the priest.

### Theories on Death

We got a question about spirits of the dead...

Let me tell you a story.

I’m probably not the best person to answer this question, but as we don’t have any saints on hand, I’ll do my best. People have been asking what happens when we die since, well...since we started dying, I guess. I won’t pretend to be a religious scholar, but priests like to tell stories just like everyone else, and I’ve heard more than my fair share.

Let’s start with the basics, there are three gods that generally get brought up when people die. Harin, the God of Remembrance, Aoran, the God of Judgement, and Laer, the God of Change. Each of those three deal with the passing of a soul in their own way, although questions about how they divide us up usually leads to raised voices and tears. When everyone’s had a stiff drink and apologized to each other, the consensus is generally the God you most closely align to, either consciously or otherwise, tends to be the one that handles your passing. I’m sure it’s more complicated than that, but I don’t plan on summoning an angel to find out.

For those of us who understand the value of the past and what it means for the future Harin handles our passing. The Keepers of Memory tell us that the spirits of those that pass wait somewhere beyond waiting to guide those of us who are left behind. I’m not sure what time looks like to a soul who has died and pass beyond, but I can’t imagine it’s a thrilling existence, but no one has ever complained. I’ve seen a Keeper call a soul back from beyond to answer questions for their descendant, it seemed happy enough.

Then we have Aoran. Honestly, he’s always seemed a bit colder and a lot more mysterious. His priest like to talk a lot about judgement in this world, and honestly, they’re some of the most fair minded people you’ll find, but when they talk about Aoran’s judgement in death, everything gets a lot fuzzier. They seem to have a bias towards what I would call good, but they’re also pretty caught up with the law, so sometimes their hands are tied. I can’t imagine what they want and what their god wants is all that different, but I’m just a storyteller who is half way through a long night. Generally, it’s believed, that Aoran claims the folks of the city, whose lives are lived day in and day out under the law of the land. Politicians, nobles, and the folks that see the world a little bit too black and white for my taste end up facing Aoran at some point. What that means I don’t know.

Then we have Laer. You know that argument I mentioned earlier, well the Priest of Change is the one laughing and getting the drinks ready while the other two yell at each other. Laer doesn’t have a whole lot of priest and even fewer people who actively follow them. Laer’s the god of change and of the cycle of seasons. If I had to describe the folks that end up being ushered beyond by Laer, it would be the folks who spend their lives out in the forests and mountains away from people surrounded by the natural world, the ones that know in their bones that everything dies eventually, fight it if you want, but it won’t stop it. They’d never claim to actively follow Laer, mostly because they’d tell you that you don’t follow an inevitability, it follow you. The running theory is that Laer takes the spirits of those who have passed and ushers them back into the world to do it all over again. Born, live, die, repeat. No one’s sure if there is an end to it, but then again, the seasons don’t exactly stop either, so maybe they have a point.

Those are the running theories about death, lord only knows if any of it is true. I’m just a storyteller, what would I know. However if you ever corner an angel and get some answers I’ll buy the first round while you tell me the story.

### “On The Various Practices Relating To The Worship Of Lesser Known Deities”

By Vestern Marra, Hierarch of the Hidden Light And Warrick Lan, Keeper of Memory

It is first important to note that while various scholars may refer to one of the gods as a “Minor God” there is no actual measure of a god’s power that we can truly understand. The distinction between minor and major is a fluid distinction based on any number of factors that may differ from era to era and region to region. While records are not consistent there is some evidence pointing to some gods that we generally consider minor, having been worshiped more broadly in the past, and who, by current definition, would be considered one of the major deities of Almeryn. We would contend that it is more appropriate to speak about minor faiths and not minor Gods.

There are a number of commonalities between the various minor faiths. In general, the act of worshiping a god of one of the minor faiths is intensely personal. While their domains are common to all people in some form, the way an individual worships the god is intensely personal. Most minor faiths are either situational or region dependent, those that follow the God of Harvest exist in every nation, each nation has different growing seasons, different crops and different farming traditions which generally prevent a unified religion from forming. The most organized a minor faith usually gets is a local following or worship group, but rarely expands beyond that.

With all of that stated there are common practices and traditions that do occur within the minor faiths. While not enough to unite an international religion, these commonalities do allow us to better understand the adherents of the various minor faiths. In this text we will look at a number, but certainly not all, of the minor faiths and their common traits as well as the aspects that separate followers.

Harvest

The God of the Harvest is probably the most widely worshiped of the gods we will discuss here, and is probably the closest to being able to form a major religion although there has been no effort among the faithful to do so. The vast majority of worshipers and priests are farmers for obvious reasons, the bulk of the remaining population of the faithful come from those trades that support or are supported by farming.

While specific practices differ from region to region, there are some common themes that run through nearly all known cults and practitioners. Patience, humility, the rewards of hard work, and looking after one’s community, are all virtues held in high regard by those who primarily follow the God of the Harvest.

Every family of farmers have some unique traditions, usually based on the unique qualities and hardships found in farming their particular piece of land, holy days tend to vary by region and town, preferred offerings and prayer can depend on the local crops.

Overall the traditions and practices, while varying across Almeryn, are some of the most conserved of all of the minor faiths. While it seems possible for the faithful to build a major religion from the bones of what already exists there doesn’t seem to be any desire to do so by the priests or lay faithful.

Art

Standing almost diametrically opposed to our previous discussion, those that follow the God of Art are as varied in practice and devotion as artists are varied in style and medium. It has long been known that a god of art has watched over the development of works of creativity of many forms, although very few known priests seem to exist in their service. What is known about this god comes from the Cannon archives of the Exalted Forge, whose priests believe that Kelor and the unnamed god of art are siblings, or as close as can be for divine beings.

Where the priesthood of Kelor teaches one to pursue function before form, the god of Art does the opposite, form is the most important aspect to those that worship the Patron of the Arts. In both faiths the second aspect usually follows closely behind the second, and those artists that worship, do strive to make sure the piece of art being created is able to serve the function desired. A beautiful tapestry that is poorly crafted will soon fade and fray, while one constructed properly will stand the test of time to be viewed and adored for generations, but still in the end the construction doesn’t matter if the passion and design involved is sub standard.

While the practices of the faithful do vary greatly from worshiper to worshiper, there are a few constants. What few confirmed priests there are, have almost uniformly referred to themself as one of the Patrons. There is an obvious drive to create art, but also protect it. There are records from various nations dating back to the rupture that refer to, what is assumed to be, Temple Wardens inserting themselves in battles to protect various precious artworks and artists, removing both from the battlefield to safety.

Love

Similar to those who follow the God of Art, those that follow the god of love are as varied as there are courting rituals across Almeryn. Where Art and Farming is a vocation, Love rarely is, and as such, there are few records of confirmed priests to this god. With that said, there are numerous records speaking to miracles performed by, or in the name of, the God of Love. Considered one of the strongest and often purest emotions, there records throughout time of powerful magic, both Divine and Arcane, being tied to acts of love. While the faith may lack many confirmed priests, there was a record of a Knight of the Kingdom of Harnmoore from Antiquity that displayed abilities commonly found in Temple Wardens from that time. Records indicate this Knight, whose name was lost, was known for involving themselves in situations where lovers were being kept from each other. The authors of this document were able to find some records that recorded rumors of this Knight being referred to as a Saint, but that could not be confirmed.

Worship of the God of Love tends to be highly situational, but in those instances deeply felt by a devotee. While it surprises some, there is common worship of this deity in a number of brothels throughout Almeryn, with those establishments having a much higher reputation, both for the obvious services as well as those offering simpler acts of companionship.

While archived records detailing worship practices do not exist in a form the authors were able to find, it is the widespread belief that acts of courtship or love are ways to invoke the God of Love. Those acts vary from village to village and country to country, but all seem to work if they are truly believed in by the individuals.

Survival

The beliefs associated with the Goddess of Survival seems to be highly conserved for a minor faith. This lack of cohesion in an otherwise cohesive faith seems to be caused by one of the faiths primary aspects, individuality. Followers of the Goddess of Survival focus very strongly on their own survival and often isolate themselves, either socially or geographically. While the teachings and practices are often highly similar from region to region, it is rare to find followers in groups for any extended length of time.

The faith itself is firmly centered around survival at any cost, strongly focused on self reliance. A common theme among followers is a strong avoidance of friends or family, except where they are useful to the worshiper. The few conversations the authors were able to have with followers indicated that they viewed personal attachments to others as drains on resources in lean times. Followers view almost everything as a potential resource or a drain on them. While a prayer to the Goddess of Survival is uttered by almost everyone at some point in their lives, followers devote much of their lives to the act of ensuring their survival. Almost all followers seem to come from the ranks of the poor and dispossessed, those who regularly have to fight for their own survival.

The Priesthood of the Goddess of Survival is as insular as the followers, and it is unclear if they offer any service to the followers beyond introducing potential followers to the faith. As unnerving as it may sound, the Goddess of Survival seems to be often referred to as the Mother of Suffering. While this name might imply a faith deserving of being labeled as Denied, the followers insist that it is their own suffering at the hands of hunger, cold, rain, predators, and society, that has taught them how to survive against those things and many others.

Change

The last minor faith that we will talk about in this document, is a unique situation. The God of Change, Laer, very few known priests and even fewer active followers. Laer is known to be one of the three gods that seem to have a direct hand in death and resurrection, and is generally viewed as being responsible for the cycle of Life and Death, and sometimes the cycle of seasons.

There are no consistent practices associated with those who follow Laer, mostly due to the lack of records for a significant number of followers. Most of those who pay any homage to Laer live far from the more regimented lives in the cities and towns, immersed in the cycles of the world. Death is a constant in this world and no prayer or offerings, for good or ill, will budge that constant in one's favor. Laer is generally believed to be neither antagonistic nor benevolent, simply enforcing the cycles that it is responsible for, regardless of the wishes, prayers, or begging that may occur.

While the authors have stated previously that various of the minor faiths have few worshippers or priests, Laer is by far the most extreme in this aspect. The authors were unable to find any other records of Gods that exhibited a similar lack of followers.

While we have listed a few of the gods of the minor faiths here, there are others, common and rare, that we didn’t list. The minor faiths are some of the most diverse practices on Almeryn with practices varying from country to country, province to province, and even village to village in some cases. Compiling further information on these faiths, could lead to further understanding of the gods associated with them, hopefully allowing us to better understand the world we live in.

### Death of the Huskarl

Hear ye all,

The Lord of Highburn Keep, Chief of Clan Damryn and the Huskarl of the Confederation, Oswain Damryn was struck down by an assassin's blade as he returned to his home with his son last evening.

Tis feared that this is but the start of an aggression by those who seek the high seat of Huskarl. Any who would take up arms against Clan Damryn ought to know that we will vigorously defend our folk and our good name.

Our reach is as long as our memory.

Amren Rease

Senishal to Clan Damryn

High Summer

Highburn Keep, Main Gate

Lake Argminoch

Confederation of Damryn

A slight turning in the grey stone walls of the outer keep shielded three figures wearing the devices of Clan Damryn on their arms and armor. They all seemed to be enjoying the cool breeze off of the lake while keeping an eye on the traffic coming and going down the road. Their conversation ebbed and flowed throughout the day, as their duties required their attention and often they were called to direct the clans investing the fields around Highburn to their camping sites. The excitement of the clan meet was palpable, like electricity in the air before a storm.

“So Moire, who’ll it be?”' asked the short blond man leaning in towards the woman next to him conspiratorially. The man had a long beard and a nose that had clearly been broken more than once.

“Who’ll what be?” responded the woman, shifting to lean her axe against the wall. Her manner suggested a feigned boredom but the look in her eyes made it clear that she was interested in this line of discussion.

“Who are the clan chiefs going to pick to replace Sigbjorn?” said the man with a tone of exasperation edging his voice.

“Well Goran, the wise and honorable clan chiefs of the Varendale Highlands have not seen fit to include me in their thinking concerning this matter, so I don’t rightly know.” said the woman with mock scorn in her voice.

“But I’ll be guessin’ that it’ll be one of the cubs. Likely the manling, Morgan. He’s back on his feet and looking hale and hearty once more. ‘Twas a hard blow to him and no mistake, seeing his father die like that and all. And then taking that wound that laid him low for all those weeks. But he made of sterner stuff than all that and he’s on the mend proper now.”

The bearded man, Goran, looked thoughtful for a few seconds pondering the words of his companion. “I don’t know; he seems different since it happened. Haunted almost. I think that they'll look to the lass, Jilliana. Have you been on the practice floor with her?”

Goran looked at their quiet third companion “Coilin, you’ve been out on mission with her haven’t you? What’s she like for true?”

The third person in the group didn’t stir at first. He remained still, gazing out over the roadway. When he spoke, he was quiet and pensive. “Aye, I was in the Fyrd that she led out to the coast last spring when we got word that raiding bands were landing south of Aedon. She’s good with a blade, axe, and shield...and hard as the bones of the mountain. But I don’t know about either of them. They’re both so young. I’d stand beside either of them in a fight and be the happier for them being there but to lead as Huskarl...I don’t know.”

“Well who then?” asked Moire looking at Coilin. “One of them will certainly be chief of the clan, that’s for sure, and neither of them would be the youngest to lead a clan.”

“You likely speak true but there’s a big difference between leading one clan among many, where your knife arm and wits can take you far, and guiding all the clans together for the betterment of them all. I love this clan and I don’t mean any disrespect but it may be time for the chiefs to look outside of clan Damryn for the next Huskarl.”

Moire’s eyes flashed as Coilin made this pronouncement. “You’ll be wantin’ to shut your lips, Coilin Madagain, before I fill your mouth with mud. It’s not wise to be talkin’ thataway within hearin’ of these walls.”

“You think that the Chiefs should abandon clan Damryn?” said Goran staring wide-eyed at Coilin. “A Damryn has always been Huskarl!”

“Nay lad, I didn’t say that’s what I want. What I want is what's best for the clan, I want what’s best for my family, and I want to keep us strong enough that the lowland fops never have reason to think that we are easy prey and sometimes things change. Anyway, look sharp and mind your duties. That’s Mohengar’s chief and what looks like two hundred of the clan coming up the road there. Best get ‘em situated.”

With that, they each went about their business, for there would be many more clans arriving before the day was out. In the back of their minds each pondered the future and considered what might be in store for them in the weeks and months to come.

### Death of the Margrave

To the Dignitaries of Coventry

Damisilia Highmore, Chancellor of the Red Tower

Matias Schriber, Headmaster of the Pantechnicon

Micah Farbridge, Chancellor of the War College,

Brother Rowen, High Priest of Aphinae

It is with profound sadness that we must inform you all that Felix Valmundur, Margrave of Coventry, has passed beyond the veil of death.

On the 25th day of the Third Month, an attacking boat from Embridge Haven made landfall south of the Red Tower on the Western shore of Coventry. The Margrave, who was attending to official matters in the area, gathered a collection of those capable of fighting and who were near to hand and mounted a strong defense against a determined foe. Within half an hour of the call to arms, the Chancellor of the War College was able to mount a counter attack strong enough to drive through the Halgrum and slay the boat’s captain, ending the battle but, alas, not before many of the initial defenders were felled. To our knowledge, The Margrave is one of two slain defenders who has not resurrected at the sanctuary of death at the ossuary. It is our assessment that, given the length of time involved, he will not resurrect and is beyond the call or aid of the mortal realm forever. Their bodies have been recovered and have been attended to according to their wishes.

According to the charter set forth in the Pentarch Covenant, we, the Reeves of Coventry, will maintain the stability and the order here on the island until the time appointed to elect a new Margrave from among those who stand to be chosen. At which point we will initiate a new Margrave into the responsibilities of the position.

We are aware that the timing of this death may seem suspicious in light of the impending Conclave. We wish to assure that we have spoken to those involved in the battle including Chancellor Farbridge and we have discovered no evidence to suggest that this was other than it appears, that is to say, a spring raid by boats from Embridge Haven. This is fairly early in the spring for such an attack and I think that it may be safe to believe this to be a foreshadowing of the months to come. We have begun taking steps to increase the watch on the shoreline and are increasing preparedness to defend against any further attacks on the Island.

By My Hand

Hanzel Vossler, Reeve of Fellstone

In consultation with

Cadence Abernathy, Reeve of Harrowdale

Barnett Addercroft, Reeve of Arnhaven.

### Letter from Sir Antoni Octavius Balliscari

Greetings Citizens and Visitors to the most distinguished Island of Coventry!

You may not have heard of me but I have heard of you and of your exploits these past months.

I am Sir Antoni Octavius Balliscari and it has come to my attention, and wounded my heart to hear, that one of Almeryn’s greatest and most honorable institutions, nay a cornerstone in the very foundation of Almeryn life for thousands of years, has been allowed to languish in ignoble obscurity on your island. I do not fault the great leaders of Coventry. Much has come to pass over the course of these last several years that has, obviously, concerned their attention elsewhere. But I will sit by no longer. Indeed, I have attained leave from My Liege and I shall, in a matter of days, be traveling among your august presence to take up blade and spell as dueling master of Coventry. For those so impassioned as I for this, the sweetest of philosophies, the first task before us shall be the consecration of the new dueling circle. I will call upon those followers of the two holy Houses both Black and Gray and I will call upon those of the Hearth and Home to attend if it is their will to do so. For through the divine intersection of judgment and hospitality, together we shall lay the foundation of a new era of dueling upon Coventry.

With the greatest respect

Yours in Honor

Sir Antoni Octavius Balliscari

Knight Errant of High Lord Makelus

### The Brass Bell

The grave dirt continued to pile next to the ever deepening hole as Mirak’s associates dug. He had hoped for good weather, but between the thawing ground and the constant drizzle they were all covered in a layer of mud. Their actions were distasteful, and the family of the man in the grave had made their displeasure very clear, however his prior was currently handling them and their complaints. What was necessary was not always pleasant, and Mirak continued to pray over the grave as his people finished digging the last few inches to the simple wooden coffin.

Mirak looked up when he heard the typical thunk of the metal shovel hitting the oak of the coffin lid. Mirak tossed the ropes to the men in the hole and backed up. They made quick work of getting the coffin out of the grave and cleaned it of the rest of the dirt and mud. None of them enjoyed this, while the bodies of the dead held no actual special place in the faith, the sanctity of death did, and inviolability of the grave was part of that. Other members of the order stepped in to help shepard the coffin back to the chapel, and Mirak led the way, prayer beads idly clicking through his fingers.

The doors to the chapel stood open, waiting for them, and the inside was lit by soft candle light. He let the coffin bearers precede him and then followed them in. The ritual had already been prepared and the smaller man quickly approached him waving the four order members bearing the coffin towards the altar.

“Hierarch, everything is prepared for you to perform the ritual,” The smaller man said, helping to take Mirak’s cloak off his shoulders.

“Thank you, Jubal, but I trust your analysis of this situation and your own rituals in previous cases, this wasn’t strictly necessary.”

“Thank you Hierarch, but I think it’s important that you see the evidence for yourself. Our order hasn’t seen anything like this in generations. Something very dangerous is happening. Our records don’t show anything like this since before the Rupture.” Jubal seemed both excited and nervous as he walked Mirak towards the altar. The body of the poor farmer who had died had been removed and placed on the cold stone surface.

Mirak stood silently for a few moments before waving the rest of his comrades away. “Give me the chapel, you too Jubal, I know you want to stay, but I’m doing this alone. The poor body has been through enough indignity, I’m not putting on a show with it too.” He didn’t look up, but he heard them shuffle out of the small space and heard the doors close.

He stepped into the circle of candles that surrounded the altar and with a small force of will connected himself to the ritual space. He slowly circled the altar three times, letting the energy build in the space. He stood over the head of the body and took a clean white cloth and a goblet of water and cleaned the man’s face. He was slow and methodical, and finally when he felt the energy in the circle at the right point, he opened the dead man’s eyes and spoke one final prayer.

He felt the ritual connect him to the body of the dead man, and he felt the final few moments of the man’s life. He didn’t see or hear anything, this was about something else. He felt fear and pain, and then deep in his core he felt something tear, not physical, but spiritual. The sudden pain of the sensation followed by the absence of any sensation was the last thing he felt as the ritual died away. He opened his eyes to the darkened chapel, the candles having gone out with the ritual. With a wave of his hand he gave the beads that had returned to his grip a pale glow to light the darkened chapel.

Outside the chapel the members of his order stood in a loose semi circle. They had been joined by their Prior, who was still consoling the deceased family. With a look and a slight shake of his head, she urged the family to wait where they were as the order gathered around their leader.

“It was as Jubal suspected, then?” the Prior asked, her voice low.

Mirak looked at Lyria, he knew she asked for the sake of the others, reminding them that their Canon-Priest was the one who had found this poor victim. “Potentially worse, I fear. We have all seen what necromancers can do to a person’s soul, but this was something different. I felt this soul get torn from their body, absorbed or consumed by some horrible force. It was more violent than I’ve ever seen before.”

Worried faces looked back at him, and he looked at each in turn, locking eyes with each of his people for a brief moment. He took a deep breath and straightened his back. “Lyria, take who you need and reinter the man and give what comfort you can to his family. Jubal, you have my leave to visit whatever archive, and speak to whomever you need to research what is happening. I will be going to speak to the Matriarch, I expect her to give us leave to handle this as we wish, but I don’t know that she’ll be able to give us any additional resources. After that I will be heading to Coventry, I want to speak to the Red Tower, and the people the Margrave has gathered. I am beginning to hear stories about these people and they may have access to resources we don’t. Barring intervening events preventing you, I want you all to meet me there when you can, but for now, go home and see your families, breath, and be ready to stop whatever is plaguing this world.”

They spent a few more minutes with their goodbyes before they all went about their tasks. Mirak stood back, watching as his people went to work. Jubal disappeared into the night and Lyria and the four regular members of the order that were there began the process of returning the victim to his grave and reconsecrating the area. Mirak had dedicated his life to the Brass Bell’s purpose, as they all had, but he was worried it would take more than just them to defeat whatever was out there. Coventry was becoming a focal point again, and he hoped those gathered there would share his concerns. With a final sigh he walked to where his horse had been stabled and started his long ride back to the nearest Gate.

### Tavern Posting - Primarch of the Wayward Vast, Gallia

Followers of the Wayward Vast and friends of the Wylds Faiths,

It has come to our attention that there has been a great disturbance off the coast of Neirland. An ancient and divine artifact has been stolen and we need to retrieve it, as the Lady of Storms does not have much patience for her gifts being displaced. We do not know much about what has taken it, but a youngling with a gift for art was able to give us a painting of what they saw. Prepare for the worst, I’ll be gathering you on Saturday for help.

-Talise Marilla

Recently elected Primarch of The Wayward Vast in the Kingdom of Gallia.

### Tavern Posting - Scrying Class

Greeting travelers!

I hope this world is finding you in good fortune after your last gather. Saturday day of next gather I will be teaching a class on scrying. We have developed a scrying ritual and those who are ritualist will be responsible for making their own scrolls. You will have to use a piece of something important to yourself to create this scroll for your use only. I used my blood, but anything from your life that holds meaning that you’re willing to infuse with your magic will suffice. I’m excited to share my findings with you and let you explore the world through different eyes.

Until we meet next gather,

Professor Lisette Cornish

Magnus Arcanum

### The Eve of Forget-Me-Nots

Originally just a small festival held by the village Brione along the southern coast of Alperia for a flower they no longer saw growing wild. It has since grown into something much larger as one of the main holidays for the Keepers of Memory. Practitioners and observants celebrate the tales of heroes long gone, but still remember the holiday's origins by decorating with crafted flowers that take the place of living ones. They pray to Harin to weave the words of victories and losses to Almeryn for a weekend of remembrance. It is said that the spirits of these tales may have unfinished wants of the world and it’s possible that tucked between the lines of their stories they may appear to the mortal eye and seek retribution for what they have lost.

#### The Eve of Forget-Me-Nots #2

The grass of the field before them was stained with blood that the wind spread from leaf to leaf. A line of Anteres soldiers known as “The Might” stood and viewed the carnage before them. Exhausted, they knew that the song of their end was being sung by the breeze. The soldiers peered above their shield wall and witnessed an opposing wall of enemies that had been testing their skill for two days, and though the Anteres are known for their military might they knew that when the sun dipped below the mountains that evening in the Protectorate, it would be the final sunset they would see. Rigorously they made their last stand. Each soldier cried out a battle roar that could be heard through the mountain passes. Together they moved as a single arm wielding a spear. As the bodies of “The Might” littered the ground, they did so with honor and love for their land.

#### Eve of Forget- Me- Nots #3

It has always been tradition in the Freelands that the history of the people was passed down from spoken word. Performance was a currency and the plains of the lands were owned by those who were rich because of it. There has always been leadership who provided and cared for the people and they are awarded their positions by earning it. Weather they are deft with steel and flourish or can spin a tale that will stay in the hearts of their people for a lifetime, these leaders excelled at their craft. To this day, each leader, or Jarl as they are called, has competed for their position of power. They were given a grand opportunity to show that their art was superior to their challengers.

Hundreds of years ago, Jarl Fenharrow competed for his position. In a circle of his peers, he faced off against a great foe. Jarl Fenharrow’s performance of choice was weapon. Unfortunately, due to the passing of time, the history of this grand fight has been lost with the people who witnessed it. It may be that children of the original spectators found more interesting stories to tell. Perhaps libations were consumed by some of the witnesses and their memory failed them about what they saw that day. Regardless of the reason, one of the greatest fights that the nation has ever seen has no remembrance other than the most bare of details.

Remember your stories, share them with all. For if history is not recorded, it will die the way it came into this world, a cry on the lips of a mortal that some may never hear.

#### Eve of Forget-Me-Nots #4

Those who follow the God of the Hunt live for the thrill of search and victory over the things they seek. Long ago, a group of this God’s faithful had hunted a great treasure in Almeryn. They were met with tasks to obtain that which they sought, however, they were not the only ones hunting this treasure. While fiddling with puzzles and rocky terrain, this group of adventurers fought their foes greatly, however… on this day.. They became the hunted and perished.

They prayed to their God as they fell. One by one, they recounted their greatest prizes and offered up their tales in hopes to have The God of the Hunt smile on their deaths and bless their loved ones. It is believed that the God of the Hunt heard them, but it is unknown if their deity shed their blessings on the party.

### Pre-Event 4 - Poison!

Greetings Travellers of Coventry,

There seems to be a poison that is going around some villagers of the island and I will need assistance from the archers of the island to deal with it. It’s a specific poison that requires precision to be able to fell the villagers in order to administer the antidote. I will need those who wield a bow, have a deft hand and a keen eye to aid me in this.

I will be by on Saturday afternoon to collect you.

Thank you in advance for your assistance.

-Reeve Cadence Abernathy

### Pre-Event 4 - Eminent Pursuit

Followers of the God of the Hunt,

The High Holy Day of the God of the Hunt is almost upon us. All year long he has been watching the world and judging those who should be living by his tenants and are not. He has found someone wanting and will issue a hunt for their life. It is your duty as his followers to bring justice to the victims of this individuals wrong doings and sacrifice a piece of them to your God. You will have all day Saturday to complete this task. Succeed, and you will be rewarded for your efforts. Fail, and next year’s hunt will be more challenging.

May the God of the Hunt smile upon you and your ambition.

### Archaeological Expeditions

Attention Adventurers! On behalf of the Prystine Pyrite Museum of Coventry, Museum Curator Dexi Deldradia has secured a research grant for a series of Archaeological Expeditions. Unfortunately some of these unexplored excavation locations may not be in the most hospitable areas, so members of the Prystine Pyrite Archaeologist Society will be coming to town in search of assistants. They can be identified by the society's symbol of a light blue sash with a golden colored Pyrite square. Dust off your shovels and sharpen your knives, it's Archaeology Time!

Sincerely,

Luna Sentin, Head Archaeologist

### The Angel of Drowning Sorrows

The eroding wooden panels of the boardwalk creaked and cracked under the weight of her feet. She slowly took steps moving her shambling ancient body from board to board. She dressed plainly, her dress made of linen almost resembled a sail. Clutched within her bony hands was a driftwood woven basket and the smell of fish surrounded her so much that you could smell her coming from twenty feet away.

“Fish for sale. Freshly caught fish”

A young boy approached her.

“G’day mum. May I have two please?” He said.

Her hands shaking, she reached into her basket and pulled out two fish to hand to the boy. She noticed that he wore a helm symbol around his neck.

Her voice cracked as she spoke to him, “A follower of the Wayward Vast, are you?”

“I am.”

“Do you care to hear the story of The Angel of Drowning Sorrows and how they saved a life?”

The boy looked up to her amused. “Sure, I’ve got time”.

“Long ago before the shorelines you know existed, there were small villages on the coast. Times were different then, there was not the hubbub and uproar that you see in the streets here. The God’s were still strong in the hearts of the people. Everyday villagers would pray to the Lady of Storms before their fisherman would go out. They would chant her name and hope that their loved ones would come home safely. In a small village on this coast lived a Priest of The Lady of Storms, she taught of the fury and wrath that could control your life at any moment. Her husband, a devout follower of the Wayward Vast, was a fisherman. Every day, he would take his boat out into the sea, she would pray for his safe return, and his boat would hit the shore as the sun set with many fish.

On a particularly clear day, her husband left the shore and a wretched and vicious storm slaughtered the coastline for hours. It was two days before the bodies of the fisherman graced the sand on the beaches. A wave of devastation reigned through the village.

The Priest tried to console the village, but there was nothing she could do. Not only was sadness creeping through her, but her pupils have not and could not grasp her teachings. If it was the will of the Lady of Storms, it must be.

She began to question her teachings. She did not understand why what she loved had been taken from her. In a moment of weakness, she took a small boat to the shoreline and began to paddle out to sea. Anyone who lived in the village could look to the horizon and see that it was dark and moving their way.

Her boat rattled with the waves and the rain felt as stones when they hit her face. The thunder from the clouds was deafening. The Priest stood in her boat with her arms extended, welcoming the wrath.

“My Lady, take me, I am a vessel and no longer have a place in your ranks”.

A large wave attacked the boat and the Priest was flung from the deck. A rope with an anchor entangled her foot. She sunk far beneath the waves until the rope snapped leaving the anchor still attached and she sunk further. It was not long before she hit the bottom of the ocean and was face to face with the wreckage of an armada. Before her eyes lay close to twelve ships which the ocean had now claimed as its own. She knew this would be her end and she looked for solace in anything before her to welcome her death. Her eyes set gaze on a figurehead of the ship in front of her. It was in the shape of a woman with great wings wearing a simple dress. The Priest stared at the woman, as she began to lose air in her lungs and focused on the woman’s chiseled sad eyes.

Suddenly the ship began to move from side to side. The sand of the ocean floor began to swirl. The Priest watched as the figurehead’s arms clutched the side of the ship and she pried her wooden body from the bow and began to walk towards the Priest.

When the figurehead stood before her, the Priest realized size of her wings. When the figurehead spoke, all the fish that swam nearby fled.

“I am the Angel of Drowning Sorrows. You have found me for your heart lays in the bottom of the ocean. You should be mine to take, however, the Lady has other plans for you.”

The Angel cradled the Priest in her wooden wings and brought her lips to the Priests’, sucking the remaining air from her lungs.

The ocean, armada and Angel faded slowly to darkness as the deafening calm of the sea lulled the Priest to blackness.

She awoke next morning on the shoreline of her village. She stood up calmly and looked to the horizon. She was different now. Her mind had been filled with divinity and she knew of a purpose greater than her life. She knew now that she must travel the world and teach lessons of the Lady of Storm as one of her Saints.”

The little boy stared up in wonder at the old woman as she finished her tale.

“Is this story real, mum?” The boy asked.

“I’m not sure young man, have you ever met a Saint before?” The old woman said with a slighted curl on her lip.

“Not that I know of mum”

“Well if you meet one, let me know, I hear they’re great storytellers.”

The old woman winked at the boy, and as she did, the little boy swore he could see a sparkle of divine in her eyes.

### The Ebony Veil

Avery Calmetrie held a tray of wine glasses steadily as she walked down a hallway of an ancient and beautiful building in Alperia. She had been working for the Emissary of the First Minister of Alepria for many years. As is custom in Alpeia for servants, she donned a beautiful lace black veil over her face. As she walked down the hallways she came to two heavy wooden doors which she then opened delicately, balancing the tray on her hip.

Inside the doors sat a group of people and Avery began serving wine to them. Avery moved with great haste, so much so that as her tunic caught the wind, you would have to glance carefully to catch the embroidery of a candlestick. When the wine had been delivered, Avery walked to a corner of the room quickly, unnoticed, and reached to a fan attached to her belt. She brought the fan to her face, and any trace of her was gone.

Inside of the room there was an older woman, dressed in a refined Arkathean style. She stood by a window peering out at the buildings when she turned towards the room and caught sight of a table in the center of the room. Sitting at the table was a younger woman wearing a symbol of the Children of the Broken Tower. The Emissary to the First Minister of Alperia also sat at the table next to her. The Arkathean began to address them as she went to sit at the table.

“Philip” she said as she reached the table “I’m not surprised to see you in a place like this” indicating the luxurious surroundings. “You always seemed the type to like overzealous elaborate things, but Brynn, darling girl! Does your father know you’re here? I can’t imagine he’d be pleased with you delving in elaborate surroundings outside of Brethailya” her jest was clear in her tone.

“Korina, lovely to see you again,” said the younger woman through a thin smile to the older woman. “My father accepts that sometimes one must walk through the sins of greed and extravagance in order to do the work of the gods”

“What’s important enough to drive you two out of your ivory towers?” Asked the older woman.

“You haven’t heard?” asked the man with a raised eyebrow. “Your runes haven’t whispered the news from Coventry?”

“The Margrave has let it be known that he will be retiring soon” Stated the young woman from Brethaylia. “There are some names being bandied about as replacements but we have a small window of opportunity here to advance someone who would be more...shall we say, sympathetic to outside influences.”

Korina looked back and forth between them, her face becoming a mask of serene joy.

“Very interesting.” she said.

“We should start preparations at once. Start vetting viable candidates. This could be our moment.” He said.

The two women nodded in agreement and stood up quickly. Philip was the last to exit taking one quick glance around the room before he left.

After a few minutes, the shape of Avery reappeared with her fan dropped to her side. She quickly made way to her bedroom in the servant’s quarters. It was humble, merely a bed and a wash pan with a basket to place clothing. With careful intent, she slid her bed to the center of the room revealing a ritual circle underneath. She fished through her robes to find a ritual scroll, a piece of paper and a quill. She furiously wrote the things she had just witnessed and began her ritual. Her arms reached to the sky and her fingers danced with the divine. When she had finished, she snapped her fingers and the piece of parchment that held such precious news vanished. She quickly reset her room, and wandered back down to the hall she had just been in to retrieve the wine glasses. No one could see the sly smile she wore beneath her Ebony Veil.

### The Magnus Arcanum

Incense is thick in the air.

Magical light sparkles in the darkness on the top of the Spire.

The moon is full, basking the Obsidian stone in silvery light.

This high among the clouds the moonlight is almost as bright as day.

Gathered under this full Moon are four of the most powerful magic users upon Amerlyn.

Arch Magnus Alteri Rast, House Phoenix Headmaster, stands at the Northern Point wreathed in orange and yellow power and robes of the same hue that seem to glow in the night sky. His personage hums with power. Were it not for the Moon, tonight he would perhaps be the most impressive object in the celestial sky.

Arch Magnus Diana Freya, bathed in green light, is more subdued standing at the Eastern Point. She carries a staff with a serpent wound around it facing her. There radiates from her a sense of calm peacefulness, as if being near her makes injuries knit, aches subside, and worries lessen.

Arch Magnus Harrold Areadu, bathed in blue light is steadfast and strong holding the Western Point. Like being near a mountain, he has almost a gravity to him. With a flourish that would astonish many who consider themselves master swordsmen, he sheathes his blade.

The Southern point is obscured in shadow. Even the night sky and Rast’s brilliance does not penetrate it although there is conjecture that if he were to assert himself he could pierce the veil. There somewhere, is the being Known as the Grey.

Rast’s voice rings out.

“We have all seen. They have returned. The chimera were flooding in like blood through an arterial wound in the World. The darkness has followed them like an infection.”

Freya responds “We see and know what it is. Still others deny. They believe the Gods would not allow it to occur again.”

Areadu continues “Which is why we must rally this World. We must secure the warring factions, help bring peace and stability to the chaos.”

The Grey lets silence sit for a moment. “Yes, even if those who are blinded do not see. We must open their eyes. The Gods have failed, at least twice before. Now is not the time to rely on them. It is now the time of Mortals to take the reign. For Mortals to succeed where the Gods have failed. “

Together their voices join and carry into the night. Part oath part challenge part declaration to the Universe.

“It is why we were created.”

“To usher in the Time of Mortals.”

“No longer will we rely on Gods”

“For we are our own Divinity”

“With us Humanity is Ascendant”

### Election Postponement

Greetings, citizens and visitors of Coventry,

There has been a tremendous amount of turmoil upon Coventry in the months since the untimely death of Margrave Vulmundar. It has been the clear intention of the establishment upon Coventry to move forward with the process of electing a new Margrave following the normal bi-annual schedule. We, the Reeves of Coventry, in consultation with the luminaries of Coventry’s Academies, and the recognized leadership of the signatories to the Pantarch Covenant, have come to understand that, given all that has transpired since the death of the Margrave, there has not been the sufficient opportunity for the people of Coventry to put forward and vet the names of those who might be trusted to fill this role.

To that end, it has been decided to postpone such an election for a year and that this nominating and vetting process should begin within the month.

When next a greater part of the peoples of this island again gather together, there will be made available a chest for the collection of names that would be put forth for the position of Margrave. If you are interested in adding your own name or the name of another known to you, then you may do so at that time. The position of Margrave is not a conscript position. No one unwilling can be forced to fill this role and after the next gathering the Reeves will take the names offered and speak to the individuals named to assess their willingness and understanding of the requirements to fill the role.

For those among you who may be new to Coventry or who may not have been of a mind to heed the process of electing a Margrave when last an election was held, I will give you a brief account here of the nature of the position.

Margrave of Coventry-

The Margrave of Coventry is, first and foremost, an ambassador for Coventry and a coordinator of information, energy, muscle power, and material. The Margrave does head what small administration has been established to meet the needs of the people on the isle.

Coventry does not have large institutions that can be used to siphon power for those seeking individual glory, while a person is in or once they leave the office of Margrave. Likewise, Coventry has no significant military force to speak of that could be used to cloak an individual in power or authority.

A Margrave’s best attributes are fostering the trust of those who reside upon Coventry and the ability and willingness to create cooperation among various disparate groups both upon Coventry and throughout the rest of Almeryn that have an interest on the isle.

As I have stated, the office of Margrave is chosen from among those who are willing to serve the people for the best interest of all. The office is chosen every two years by the peers of those who stand forth to serve. This is not a Kingship. This is not a position for those seeking glory for their name nor authority for their desire to rule.

We, the Reeves of Coventry, in consultation with the signatories of the Pentarch Covenant have approached a well respected, former Margrave, named Hugo Lechner, to act, temporarily, in the position of Margrave. He has agreed to act in the role of caretaker for one year, at which point elections will be held to fill the office.

Written by my hand on behalf of Cadence Abernathy, Reeve of Harrowdale & Barnett Addercroft, Reeve of Arnhaven

Hanzel Vossler, Reeve of Fellstone

### Beings and Creatures of Almeryn

An incomplete list

By Llewel Balanmore

* Volaris, Theran, Hirlath, Sumerak. The most dangerous and contentious of antagonists in the world will often be of the four prime mortal races. The motivations and agenda of the mortal races will almost never be outdone by the potential threats posed from other types of creatures.
* Cults of the Denied Faiths. Many a woman or man has fallen to the hubris of power and many of those have seen worship of the denied faiths as a means to that power. Throughout the world groups of people have gathered in small (and not so small) numbers to learn the rites and rituals of power. In most nations throughout Almeryn the Denied Faiths are prohibited to a greater or lesser degree. Widely known cults that are known to exist in Almeryn are:
	+ The Vengeful Heart. Found throughout the world, The Vengeful Heart serves Ithilore, the god of violent retribution. Many of the adherents of this cult work as Bounty Hunters and Assassins. A grieving heart might call out to Ithilore in despair seeking solace through action.
	+ The Marauders of Embridge Haven. From the dreaded isles of Embridge Haven, west of Damryn, and born across the world in longships, these raiders will maraud through the coastlines of Almeryn plundering undefended towns and villages. While not really a cult, per se, the marauders of Embridge Haven almost exclusively worship denied faith gods.
* The Taken. There are those for whom the nature of their Touched Bloodline has taken hold of their spirit. As this atavistic process goes on they are consumed by it losing the awareness of their mortal selves. There are stories about The Taken becoming more wild and bestial, assuming more of the charistics of the source of their Bloodline.
	+ Gargoyles: Solarin that give themselves over to their bloodline, allow it’s drives to become the only thing they think about, become gargoyles. Creatures of singular purpose they seek to protect and defend anything they believe their god holds dear.
	+ Grotesques: Some Solarin become so completely antagonistic to their bloodline and the god it is associated with that they shun anything to do with it. These Solarin run the risk of becoming Grotesques, the power in their blood combining with their hate and disdain to twist their soul into a creature that seeks to destroy anything and anyone it believes the god responsible for it’s pain holds dear.
	+ Whispers: Grim spend their lives resisting the call of corruption in their blood. Those that give in run the serious risk of becoming a creature that people refer to as a Whisper. Whispers become agents of chaos and destruction, seeking to disrupt and tear down the social structures of the world around them. They rarely act directly, preferring to manipulate and whisper lies and half truths in the ears of those around them.
	+ Lost: Nature Touched who give themselves over to their bloodlines become Lost. Becoming more and more like the spirit that touched them Lost eventually transform completely, leaving the mortal world behind for the most part. Amarial and Floran who are from more hazardous plants can become highly dangerous to those around them while they move through this process.
* Fell Creatures. There are dark corners of Almeryn, places of secrets and shadows, where lie fell creatures. Be they mistakes from the early days of magery, creatures twisted and corrupted by Demonae, or simply creatures that grew in shadows, it is not always possible to tell.
	+ Creatures of the Kestoff Wildlands. In the deep places of the wildlands creatures of nightmare lurk.
	+ Beasts of the Mountains. The high mountains of the Varendale highlands in Damryn, and mountains like them throughout Almeryn, are home to many fierce beasts. Mostly common animals of uncommon size, in the snow capped peaks there walk silent hunters who think nothing of slaying those who tread too close.
	+ Creatures of the deep. The seas and oceans of Almeryn are not considered safe on the calmest of days. Under the waves, in the deeps that no sunlight can pierce, lay enormous creatures awaiting the unwary ship’s crew.
* Dreadkin. The corruption of unlife can animate creatures that would otherwise be beyond the veil of death.
	+ Wraiths. As the name implies, a creature of unlife that has an insubstantial form and radiates great power and merciless hatred.
	+ Drugyr. These are creatures of such rage and hate that even death could not stop their corpses from walking Almeryn seeking vengeance upon the living.
	+ Strigoi. These are creatures that are said to be able to change their form that of a spirit and to gain strength from the blood of the living.
	+ Reavers. These are slaves taken by the Embridge Haven Marauders who are then killed and in a type of spirit form are used as shock troops in their raids. They’re very difficult to destroy. Simply cutting them down is never enough.
* Spirits. The term “spirit” is used broadly throughout Almeryn to describe ethereal beings that interact with the world in different ways.
	+ Death. There are times when a person dies when their spirit is able to move about Almeryn. There are also times when a person dies and their spirits refuse to cross the veil of death. Their body might fail but their spirit remains in the world for a time.
	+ Nature. There are ephemerial creatures throughout Almeryn that inhabit and infuse the natural world. It is not clearly known what their role in the world is or how they came to be but they can be seen from time to time in the secluded places. Many people have personal names for them but most just call them nature spirits.
* Angels Enigmatic and powerful agents of the gods. They are known to exist, though they have not been seen in Almeryn since the Field of Sacrifice on the last day of the Rupture. It is said that when they use their divine abilities near mortals, the grace of the gods can be felt.
	+ Saints. Once living women and men, these people have been chosen by divine for their service to the world.
* Demonae. The corrupters, the devourers of life, the agents of destruction. Like Gods, and Angels, Demonae are known to be real but little is known of their fell powers or their will. They haven’t been seen since the Rupture and very rarely before that, though myth and legend of their evil is rife throughout the cultures of the world. The histories tell us that where the Demonae walk, dread and corruption can be felt.
	+ Chimera. The foot soldiers of the Demonae, the Chimera are lesser creatures of fear and destruction. They are no longer “of Almeryn” and it is not known where they reside but they are able to slip through the wards that guard the world and have been known to wreak havoc upon the people of Almeryn from time to time.

### Sovereign Death Ritual - Priest of Kathik (?)

Island of Coventry

Daytime

Even bereft of his crown and seated with his back against a tree, the man emanated royal dignity. The King’s eyes opened slowly as the last bit of poison left his body. As he came awake, The King took in his circumstances in a single glance; he was seated, propped at the base of a tree in a small glade, unarmed and without his retinue. Furtively standing in a wide arc around the glade were several dozen armed men and women, most of whom were making a show of ignoring him. Except for one man standing in the dappled shadows next to a heavily carved stone obelisk. He was looking at the King intently.

The King’s eyes narrowed at the dappled figure. “How dare you assault the royal personage.” he said quietly.

“I apologize, Majesty.” the figure said, spreading his hands to indicate their surroundings. “These are not ideal circumstances. Normally I would not wish to lay hands on a royal sovereign...it disrupts the veneer of civility and stability...but these are times of change and in such times a greater purpose may be facilitated by a displeasurable action.”

“If you think to trade my life for ransom then you have kidnapped the wrong man. You will find only death at the end of this road.” spoke the King in a calm voice.

“Again, apologies Majesty.” the man said in an almost supplicative tone. “You’re not here for the sake of coin, you are not here for some mundane political aspiration, and you are not here for any sort of personal retribution for slights real or imagined. You have something far more important to me and my faith...and Majesty, “and death” is at the end of all roads.”

“If you do not seek coin and you have no personal grievance with me...” the King began and then his voice became devoid of emotion. “It’s my blood you seek!” it was not a question.

“Yes Majesty.” said the dappled man. “Your life’s blood will empower me to work a great ritual.”

“I know who you are now, Priest,” said the King, his voice rising with defiance, spitting the title out like an epithet. “Your kind are no better than the brigand who would spill blood for a coin or a bottle of mead. Your ersatz civility is a cheap mask behind which your religion hides their villainy. The infamy of your Unbidden Blade is a blight upon the land.”

“Anger, Majesty?” said the man, moving into the direct light for the first time. “From one who has ruled? That is unbecoming. You and I are not so different, Majesty. As long as Mortals have walked upon Almeryn there have been those who would seek the death of another. This is part of life. You have used death as a lever to move people to your will since well before you wore a crown. But you think to lecture me...about the taking of life? Me, a servant of Kathik? I have plumbed the depths of mortal depravity. I, who have answered the prayers of men and women like you. Prayers that have been little more than thinly veiled justifications for taking power from others. I, who have listened to the prayers of the grieving. To those who have no recourse with your barristers and judges because their name or family wealth cannot be put to service for your Kingdom. It is my blade, unbidden in the darkness, that serves their justice. The taking of life is never done without regard. It is never done solely for the coin. Oh, of course, when one of your petty ministers wants a rival removed from the board, we will take their coin for it. That rival would have done the same. When you need an obstruction removed from your path so that you are able to maintain the benevolent facade while getting your sovereign prerogative, we will take yours, even while you revile us. For we accept what most abjectly fear to comprehend, that the taking of another’s life is simply part of The Way.”

“The power of death sings to us.”

“There are those who believe themselves to be good who will shout their denial of this truth but silently they will be thankful that no other can see the lie in their hearts. As death is a constant where there is life, so also will the faithful always be here, hearkening to the song of Kathik.”

The king regarded the other man in silence. “You justify your perversion of the Gods, cloaking it in service. Violence is the last resort of the just, and used only to prevent greater bloodshed or injustice.”

“We are not the same. I serve justice, and my people from those who work the land to those that work great feats of power. You serve simply bloodshed.”

The man looked at the King and took in a long breath. Letting it out, he said “It is too bad that our time together must be cut short, Majesty. I wish that I could see another course that didn’t necessitate spilling your blood. The way before us all is dark and while you may not see it, your death and the ritual that your blood will empower will bring strength to Coventry and Almeryn.”

The King's eyes burned bright as he watched the priest of Kathik begin a ritual around a stone pillar carved with runes. The others in the glade were preparing for a fight while watching the ritual take form. He could hear the words spoken by the priest during the incantation of the rite. A pattern of words were spoken by the priest and repeated back by the others creating a mesmerizing susurration throughout the space.

“It is almost time, Majesty. It is a requirement of this rite that it be witnessed by those who would stand opposed to it. There is power in conflict and death. When those who are even now approaching get here, I will complete the ritual, if I am able. If you have any prayers that you need to say before your death, speak them soon. I will make it as quick and clean as I can.”

The priest regarded the men and women streaming through the paths and woods to oppose his ritual. He could feel the culmination of its power approaching. This would be a good day. He would provide this King a good death, clean and quick. He would harness the power in the blood that this sovereign had coursing through him, and with that power he would enchant a new sanctuary here and now.

As he knelt he could see the King’s lips moving in a silent prayer. The priest began his own prayer, entwining it into the climax of the ritual as he spoke. “Kathik, I am your servant and I do your will. I ask in this moment that you intercede for the soul that I am sending beyond the veil of life. If it be within your power, let this man’s spirit dwell with those of his loved ones throughout all time.”

As the last word left his lips, the bright flashing steel of his knife described an arc that ended in the King’s heart. The runes on the stone obelisk flashed in the dappled sunlight, the ritual finished and the sanctuary flooded with power.

### Arcane Convergence

Excerpt of a lecture on Arcane Convergence and the Conflux

“Welcome, Magiar, to today’s open class.

Scholars of the arcane and priests of the divine have often disagreed about the nature of the Conflux.

It is known that there are lines of arcane power running through Almeryn. It is known there are many, many places where several lines of arcane power meet.

You can find countless examples of cities and towns that have their central square built right atop one of these convergence points.You will be hard pressed to find a town builder who understands why they decided to build where they did; most don’t know the answer beyond the feeling that it was right to do so but that’s a different topic.

What is known is that the Conflux is the largest convergence in Almeryn and that, while some of these ley lines shift, the Conflux has not diminished in over a thousand years.

The most common question is why? What causes all of these lines to converge in Coventry and what causes this convergence to remain when so many others shift?

Ask a priest of Aphinae and you might get a dissertation on the secret mysteries of the Divine and the ontological nature that was instilled in the mortal races at the dawn of creation.

A nature that drives us to understand every mystery that we perceive.

A nature that has driven us and empowered us to grow and to learn and to expand beyond the frailness of our mortal forms.

Ask the Chancellor of the Red Tower and he might tell you about the transience of arcane ley lines, the behavior of intersecting arcane fields, and their relationship to the static convergence of the Conflux.

What did that mean? It means that there’s a reason why I’m not the Chancellor of the Red Tower or a Priest of Aphinae, and why I’m here, giving this lecture.

It means that there are fields of arcane power and there are lines of arcane power; they behave differently and they react to one another in certain, sometimes, predictable ways. If you remain at the Magiary you may learn more about the subject…”

### Unknown - Arkathea, Priests

JVS

The man approached the door letting out a sigh as he rapped his knuckles against it.

“Come in.” the woman spoke gently, her back to the doorway as she watched the embers flickering in the fading fire.

The man walked in, and on shutting the door behind him let out a soft chuckle. “Well, you were right, as usual.”

“I know, but I hoped I was wrong,” she responded as she turned and looked at the man.

“I checked it myself and the seal is definitely weakening. It won't be long now before the energy starts seeping out more rapidly. It will start to affect the surrounding areas. We will be fine, but I don't know about the rest of them.” Pulling his hood down he steps close to the fire, his hands out for warmth.

A long silence stretched between them, both knowing what this meant for the world. The woman let out an uneasy sigh and turned to him. “Bryce… I've heard that there will be a summit of world leaders. They are being summoned to the island of Coventry to discuss world events.”

The man turned quickly to her. “What are you implying Priestess? You can't possibly -”

She raised her hand forestalling any further words from the man. “I do, I've already asked the Arkatheans if we can join them on their trip to Coventry and they have agreed. We leave within the next few days.”

Knowing better than to argue, Bryce simply nodded and raised his hood again. “I will gather some of my Watchers and your guard, I will get them prepared.”

“No Bryce, WE are going, just us. Everyone else will need to prepare.” She reached out and touched his shoulder lightly. “Bryce, Almeryn has to know. They ARE coming back, there is nothing we, or anyone, can do to stop that.”

### Post Event 5 - The Keepers of Memory Library

The quick paced footsteps on the stone floor rang above the ever present whispering within the library. Shelves and shelves of books wanting their stories told were drowned out as a young priest hurried down the main row between the stacks. They were obviously looking for someone and doing their best not to interrupt others, but failing. Finally, they laid eyes on who they sought, but didn’t have the agility to turn, overshooting the aisle and having to double back. After a moment to correct themselves, they proceeded at their target.

“Father, I just heard.” the young priest spat our breathlessly

“You just heard what?” the middle aged volaris replied while not stopping his search for the tome he wished to read next.

“The demonae. They’re back.” they replied.

“The Chimera are back" he corrected. "I have been to Coventry and heard the firsthand accounts. I have done my best to give the proper accounting.” he said, now turning to the young priest assuming the conversation was not quite over.

“Should we be concerned?” the young priest said and then lowered their voice some and continued “should we be concerned about the Alperian Dynasty? They could betray us again.”

The volaris man was taken slightly aback by the question before letting out a sigh and responding. “There are two important things that the many tomes that surround us will tell you. First, we can not condemn the entire country for their history. There were many from within Alperia who fought against the chimera and demonae the last time, some having to raise swords against family and friends who had been corrupted. Second, that was not the first time an Almeryn nation chose corruption over the rest of us. In all probability, it will not be the last either.” He stopped and considered for a second before beginning again. ”Follow me” he said and then lead the young priest away in the library. The silence between the young priest and the volaris only accentuated the whispering coming from the tomes they passed. “I was a spell blade from the Kingdom of Novalon” one bluish book whispered in a female voice. “I was a bardic warrior from the freelands.” whispered a large green book. Several other books beseeched the young priest to be read as they snaked their way through the stacks.

As they came to a stop, the young priest’s eyes locked on a specific book just as the man reached up for it. “This is the testament of Bashar Andreas Ehrmann. He was one of the few recorded Alperians who sided with Ulfgar Damryn when he left. What makes this one special is that Andreas held enough rank where he was present in the chamber as Damryn rebuked the Dynast and left. In his accounting, you get to read how he and a small group loyal to Damryn quickly rallied in the capital and left for the mountains. In his battle against the demonae, he crossed swords with family, friends, and terrifying atrocities. Specifically, at the Battle of Carlbourn where he slew his brother, his sister-in-law, and countless other persons and things. The retelling is riveting and very important given time in which we find ourselves.” The volaris man seemed lost in thought for a second and the young priest did not interrupt him. Before long he started again, “Simply reading this book should demonstrate that the fault does not lie with the entire nation, such notions are dangerous. We may unknowingly sever our most important relationships based upon predetermined biases. The world is more grey than that.” He finished, handed the book to the young priest, walked a few steps, grabbed another one for himself, and then walked to the end of the row and turned out of sight.

### Declaration from Queen Alicia Tork - Pallandine

Here Ye Here Ye!

It has come time to accept that the Pyke’s are not coming back to Pallandine, and we simply must conclude an end to their line. Their absence has left Pallanding in Chaos, and order must be restored. No longer can the status quo be maintained.

After careful study of our laws and our Charter, it is with some measure of reluctance that I take up the mantle of the Sovereign Queen of Pallandine. As you Queen I will return peace and civility to our land. I will bring us to Coventry and demand a seat at the table. I will create new alliances that strengthen our place on Almyrn.

My first decree, let it be known, that after exhaustive investigation, I do find Warden Edmund Tork to be guilty of corruption. For too long he has been empathetic to those who would steal from Pallandine and even worse to be in league with those who would dare to overthrow the Government. He is now and forever declared an outlaw to the crown, and is to be hunted until permanently dead. Until such time as his former lands are pacified of criminals and trader to Alperia without writ from the throne.

Queen Alicia M. Tork

### An important person who was around during the rupture

In the years that followed the Rupture, Ulfgar Damryn was a busy man.

Having defied the orders of his liege and splintered the Alperian Dynasty, he spent much of his life building a new nation and too busy for reflection on the Rupture itself.

When he looked back on it, impossibly, his emotions were a mass of contradictions. How could something so terrifying also bring about such pride and contentment? There was the horror of the discovery that Demonae were walking Almeryn in force; the discovery that his Dynast had somehow been ensnared into siding with these Demonae; his defiant refusal to lead the legion under her banner; and finally, after his people followed him into rebellion, he was asked to command a large force of warriors in the Clarion Host.

This meant, of course, fighting and killing citizens of the Alperian Dynasty, women and men who he had personally trained since they were little better than children, people who were just answering the call of their liege lord.

Intermingled with the horror was pride. Pride in knowing that he was a man of conviction; pride in knowing that his conviction would not be overshadowed by his fear; pride in seeing the trust that his folk had in him; and pride in knowing that, should the day be won, his people would have a nation of their own.

Then the battle was joined and the horror won out.

A year is an eternity in a war with Demonae. Nothing was spared. No quarter was given or asked for. Battles were fought. Sometimes they were won but mostly they were lost. Valiant men and women held their ground and lost their lives defending their comrades and fighting against the spread of the darkness.

In the last battle, Ulfgar slew the General who had replaced him in the Alperian legions and broke the Alperian banner, hurling it at the feet of a Demonae as it advanced upon him with vorpal blade. Ulfgar saw, in that blade, his own death. The Demonae, being not one of the lesser kind, was too powerful for him to defeat alone. His army was staggered and being overrun from all sides by Chimera, there was no aid or reinforcement to be had. Even in that moment, as the Demonae beheld its own victory over Ulfgar, Almeryn’s deliverance was at hand. A divine ritual, long in the preparation, was empowered and its effects washed over the battlefield and across Almeryn. The Demonae were banished or destroyed.

It’s not known exactly what the ritual was, or how it was enacted. It is said that Hayliel, Angel of the Holy Aegis, sacrificed her existence to empower the magic that cleansed Almeryn of the Demonae. The priests who knew and performed the ritual gave up their lives in sacrifice as well, and the Warriors and Temple Wardens protecting them died giving those same Priests the time to succeed. Their names will long be sung in honor, for no account has been heard of their spirits returning to the mortal world.

With the war over, Ulfgar worked to rebuild. In the days, months, and years that followed, he took the people from the one-time Alperian province and forged them into a nation, a confederation of clans. To his high honor, the clan chiefs met and elected to name their fledgling nation after him and the Confederation of Damryn was born.

While he didn’t have much time throughout his life to reflect upon the Rupture itself, it never left him. The Experience changed him and, for the rest of his life, he worked to guard against the horror of the Demonae and their Chimera. He received overtures from the new Alperian Dynast for the reunion of their peoples. He met the Alperians kindly but firmly rejected their entreaties; Damryn would never again be under their yoke.

Ulfgar built, and up until the time of his death continued to train, a dedicated order for the hunting of Demonae and their Chimera; he named this order Gaen’s Spear, In honor of their sacrifice. The Spear has always had a close relationship with the Church of the Holy Aegis and will always answer their need.

### Sumerak

Before the age of light and knowledgeable, a great cataclysm befell Almeryn. The Demonae raged across the world in their quest for domination and destruction. With them came a new race, the Chimera; once likened to the Hirlath, Theran, and Volaris in their mortal nature, now reborn out of corruption as creatures of shadow and fear. The fall had threatened to lay low all of the peoples of Almeryn, for the elders of the mortal races did not foresee or understand what befell the Kindra; such had been the cunning and deception of the Demonae.

An elder of the Sumerak, a seeker of wisdom and a speaker to the ancestors, stood forth among her people to speak the warning words against the Kindra. She traveled to other places in the world but she could not sway the leaders of the other races with her warnings. She went from place to place seeking to find one who could hear the voices of their ancestors as she did. But they didn’t understand her ways, and heeded not the words that she spoke, for their eyes were bent upon the sunrise and they could not see the greater darkness before them.

This elder of the Sumerak then spread the word of this danger to all of her people; they came together and devised a powerful rite to cast out the Kindra from the Sphere of the world, and to expose the tendrils of corruption that the Demonae were threading throughout the other races.

This rite was sanctified and empowered by the divine. The actions of the Sumerak revealed the true nature of the Kindra and they were given over wholly to the shadows of their corruption. When the rite was completed, the world was changed. What had been was no more, for the Chimera had been cast out. In changing the world, so too had the Sumerak been changed. Where there had been balance, the Sumerak had created imbalance. Thus it was that the Sumerak themselves changed and restored the balance by becoming what the Kindra had failed to be.

The world reveled for a time at how close they came to meeting their fate, and the knowledge that their refusal to look into the darkness had led them down that path. With the Demonae exposed, Chimera banished from the world by the Sumerak, the divine presence revealed in their grace, and a new monstrous terror to fear in the darkness, knowledge of the banishing rite spread like fire. The words of the Sumerak Speaker were heard throughout the world. Tales of their sacrifice were told in hushed reverence. Speakers walked all the paths of Almeryn, teaching those who would learn how to listen for the voices of their ancestors. Their place in the world would forever be unquestioned among the mortal races.