Terfel Glas
Terfel Glas (a.k.a. The Mourningstar)
Terfel Ability Score's Table
| Attribute | Natural Score | Racial Bonus | ASI's | Feat Bonus | Total |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Strength | 15 | 1 | 2 | 0 | 18 |
| Dexterity | 8 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 8 |
| Constitution | 14 | 2 | 0 | 0 | 16 |
| Intelligence | 10 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 10 |
| Wisdom | 10 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 10 |
| Charisma | 14 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 14 |
Terfel Hit Dice Rolls
| Level | Result | Level | Result | Level | Result | Level | Result |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | 10 | 6 | 5 | 11 | 0 | 16 | 0 |
| 2 | 10 | 7 | 0 | 12 | 0 | 17 | 0 |
| 3 | 10 | 8 | 0 | 13 | 0 | 18 | 0 |
| 4 | 9 | 9 | 0 | 14 | 0 | 19 | 0 |
| 5 | 1(6) | 10 | 0 | 15 | 0 | 20 | 0 |
Physical Description
General Physical Condition
Limp
At the end of the Last War, on the Day of Mourning, Terfel was thrown from his feat when the explosion that shattered his world occurred. Ever since that day Terfel has carried a weight on his shoulders and a pain in his lower back, magical healing has had little effect on the pain and the healers have suggested it may not even be real. Regardless of its validity, Terfel has developed an uneven gait thanks to this injury causing Terfel to prefer taking things slowly.
Identifying Characteristics
Tattoos
Terfel has two tattoos:
- Climbing from just at the back, base of his neck and up around the top of his ear to just the side of his face, Terfel has an intricate flowing tattoo in a purple ink.
- On his left arm he has a tattoo of a bell with a laurel crown resting at its top. A later addition has turned this tattoo into a sleeve with a long winding and twisting set of thorny vines that have wrapped around the bell and broken into it in places. A number of small flowers are budding on the vine while five are blooming
Physical quirks
Mournland Scar
Having been caught in Cyre on the Day of Mourning, Terfel developed a mournland scar. His dragonmark of sentinel was corrupted on that day and ever since; whenever he uses the abilities his mark provides it begins to writhe as if there were something beneath his skin trying to escape. The writhing is localized around the mark, but as he uses his abilities it progressively spreads to the rest of his body.
Special abilities
Mark of Sentinel
Terfel has a Mark of Sentinel on the back of his neck, it is fairly average in size but is quite faint. The mark begins to tingle and grows more defined whenever he is within 10 feet of someone with the same mark.
Mental characteristics
Personal history
Background Timeline
- Terfel is born in the followers camp at the Third Siege of Korth in 969 YK where his father, Howel Glas, dies during an assault of the walls
- Dylis the Weaver takes the remaining Purple Stalkers and Meilyr Glas back to his estate of Maplevale where Terfel grows up
- From a young age Dylis begins teaching Terfel the ways of war. At the age of 11 Terfel accompanies Dylis for the first time on campaign
- At the age of 17, Terfel visits the capital of Metrol for the first time where he meets Ariana, a half elven woman. They become good friends, and soon more.
- Soon after the slaughter of many of the Purple Stalkers in the north, and the manifestation of his Mark of Sentinel, Terfel and Ariana marry in the winter months that followed.
- Terfel receives an invitation to the capital where he is transferred to join the Champions of the Bell at the request of Gesricar.
- On the 13th Nymm 987 YK Terfel and Ariana's son, Llyr, is born.
- In the year 993 YK after a successful raid into Karrnath, Terfel meets Prince Oargev for the first time
- Tefel serves as a Champion of the Bell for the next few years; in the new year of 994 YK, Terfel was transferred to the Queen's Guard
- Not long after his transfer, the rest of the Champions of the Bell were killed in a raid into Thrane
- Several weeks later, Cyre is in dire straits. Terfel is sent along with the other Queen's Guard to halt the invading Thrane-Brelish army in the south
- Terfel is fighting for his life against a squad of Warforged when the Mourning occurrs
- Terfel and the rest of his unit attempt to find survivors in Metrol, but only find horrors. They make their way to New Cyre not long after
- Terfel meets back up with Ariana and Llyr in New Cyre who had gone with Prince Oargev on his diplomatic mission. The rest of Terfels unit decides to head to Sharn
- Over the next couple of months Terfel finds it hard to comprehend what had happened and as with many other Cyrans wears mourningwear. Terfel loses faith in the Sovereigns
- The forward thinking Prince Oargev inspires Terfel, and Terfel finds his faith within himself and begins following the Blood of Vol. Terfel acts as an agent of Prince Oargev and puts his mind toward lifting up his fellow refugees
- In 997 YK Ariana takes Llyr with her to Q'barra where Prince Oargev hopes to open up a dialogue between the Cyran refugees in New Cyre, and those in Hope, Terfel remains behind to continue efforts within New Cyre
- On the 20th Olarune 998 YK Terfel is introduced to other adventurers
Mental Trauma
Obsessive Compulsion
During the Last War Terfel developed an obsessiveness about his duties, particularly following the events of 990 YK. During this time Terfel's lack of care for his equipment resulted in his near death and, to him at least, the death of several of the Stalkers. Ever since Terfel has gone about his duties, even in peace time, with an astute attention to detail.
Social
Contacts & Relations
Associates
Dilys the Weaver - a half elven entrepreneur who lived a comfortable life despite the war. Led a unit of soldiers during he war paid out of his own pocket, the Purple Stalkes. Terfel's father, Howel Glas, was a member of this small unit from the outset of the war until his death at the third siege of Korn. After Howel's death Dilys supported Howel's widowed wife and newly born son in their estate of Maplevale, just outside of Making. They became a mentor, and a father figure in Tefel's life, until the Mourning. Terfel has had no news on Dilys who was somewhere in the north on the Day of Mourning.
Halaema Glynrel - Blood of Vol Seeker who introduced the religion to Terfel in New Cyre
Family
Terfel believes that his mother, Meilyr died on the Day of Mourning but has never received confirmation. His wife, Ariana, on the other hand is alive and well. She is with their son, Llyr, in Q'barra on a diplomatic mission on behalf of Prince Oargev. Terfel, and Ariana and Llyr have not seen each other in a little under a year, though they have kept in contact.
Family Ties
Father - Howel Glas (Deceased)
Mother - Meilyr Glas (Lost during the Mourning)
Spouse- Ariana Glas (In Q'barra)
Son - Llyr Glas (With Ariana in Q'barra)
Religious Views
For the majority of his life time Terfel has always held faith in the Sovereigns. He trusted their guidance. When the Mourning happened however, he lost faith in them. They either willfully guided everyone toward the Mourning, or failed to stop the Dark Six. Whatever the reason, they are no longer worth of his faith. For a long time after the Mourning, Terfel was lost and directionless, but preachers and missionaries from all faiths found their way to the hopeless refugee camp of New Cyre. It was with one of these preachers that Terfel found new hope, within himself. Halaema Glynrel, a Seeker of the Blood of Vol showed him the truth of the gods and the path of the inner-self. Since then, Terfel has taken much of this faith to heart and has come to believe he needs to become the champion his people need - to be an example they can follow and allow Cyre to live on. He holds the hope to show each of them what they can do should they believe in themselves rather than in the falsehoods of the gods.
A veteran of the Last War, serving as a Champion of the Bell, and as a Queen's Guard in the latter stages of the war; Terfel seeks a safe place to call home for himself and his family.
View Character ProfileCan speak, read, and write Common, Dwarvish, and Goblin.
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Letter to Lei
25th Olarune 998 YK
Lei, I am sorry I was unable to reply sooner but your letters were delayed. For all it is worth, your words bring me some peace to read despite the disturbing news they describe. I have always held the hope of seeing you all again... it saddens me to know our reunion will be dimmed without Jode. His spark of joy and thoughtfulness are rare gifts to find in a person. The Sovereigns made a mistake in guiding him on this path. You must come to terms with what has passed if you are to keep yourself from sharing the same fate. Keep your wits about you. Daine has seen more than I fear he can handle and this may be the final loose thread to unravel him. You mention little of Pierce in your letters, is there news you can share? There are many questions I have; more questions than I can put into writing, and more still that I would not trust to. For now I will say only that I will look into what I can from here. As for New Cyre, we are doing well. The town has grown and the list of problems has only grown with it. For the most part things are slowly getting better, though our supply lines have been taking some hits by bandits. We’re in the process of tracking them down though I expect they may be a nuisance for some time. Prince Oargev has proven himself to be competent. He fights for us, for all of us, on the world stage as best he can but time and time again the ambitions of those who would see Cyre be lost to the pages of history clash with him. The Prince has placed me along with several others who have proven themselves friends of our people. I believe his faith is well placed. It is with their aid that I was able to liberate your letters. I hope that my words find you safely, and that you are all in good health when they do. If you should need our help with anything, say the word and I will do what I can. There is a goblin proverb I know that fits the sentiments I wish to convey khaartuuv kurar’dar mi shi morii’dar. Stay safe, Terfel. P.S Please date your letters in the future.
Letter to Ariana
25 Olarune 998 YK
Dear Ariana, It is my hope that this letter will reach you before news of what has happened does. A group of thugs assaulted New Cyre during Prince Oargev’s speech on the Day of Mourning, with the intention of assassinating the Prince. Everyone is fine. No harm came to the Prince and Siebold was able to escort Llyr to safety. Llyr handled himself well, though with all the chaos over the past few days I haven’t had a chance to sit with him and make sure he is okay. Don’t worry, i’ll be sure to do it soon. I think it’ll be time to begin his training soon, for his benefit and for those around him. After the attack the Prince asked me to look into who these people were, together with others who had helped to defend him and the people of New Cyre. Dax is one of them. She is proving herself to be invaluable; in whatever task she is given, she does it with efficiency and no complaint. New Cyre was fortunate the day you met her. Have you learned any more of the trouble she appears to be in? Warden and Kalshana, the other two, arrived together some time ago. I remember greeting them and at the time they seemed capable but naive, lost even. I didn’t expect either of them to stand their ground, let alone spring into action on behalf of the Prince. These people have come to New Cyre from across the world, Q’barra, Sarlona, the Eldeen Reaches, and yet to me they represent everything it means to be Cyran. Their selflessness is inspiring. Their ability, impressive. If these are the people New Cyre has to safeguard it, then I believe there is nothing to fear. On a more sour note, I received word from Lei. She brings word of something strange happening in Sharn. Some sort of disease. Jode has died. One more flower to add. I have written back, but I don’t think Lei’s next letter will bring any clarity. I look forward to reading your words soon. Oh, and I know Llyr wrote about Siebold giving him a dagger in his letter, don’t worry. Dax said she would be more than happy to teach him how to use it. All my love, Terfel
The Mourningstar
19th Olarune 998 YK
19th Olarune 998 YK: The Mourningstar
I’ve been putting off writing this particular story for some time now… but perhaps, on the eve of the Day of Mourning, it would be appropriate. My memories of years past are fuzzy, unfocused. I remember the emotions I had, or very specific features of people I knew; their eyes or a scar across their face. Their full visage is lost to time. The Mourning on the other hand; that day will forever be seared into my memory, as clear as the day those memories were made. I had recently been transferred from the Champions of the Bell. Prince Oargev had been made aware of me and my abilities. He was the one who sparked the idea that I should be a member of Queen Dannel’s Guard; an honour beyond measure to be sure. I would later hold resentment for that change; though it probably saved my life. 20th Olarune 994 YK - I was 22 years old. I had been through so much already; fighting for half my life. I had been honoured as a war hero, a champion of Cyre, and on top of that I had now been given the honour of being hand picked by our Queen. The situation was still dire for our nation, but for me I could not have been more proud. Queen Dannel had ordered an offensive, the first in decades, against our bitter rivals to the north. Dylis’ unit was with that army. With a swift victory they had laid waste to Atur and quickly returned back into friendly territory. The news of victory was short lived however, we received word that the Karrns had formed an army and were in pursuit of our retreating forces. To make matters worse a Thrane-Brelish army had invaded from the south west. We Cyrans had always been hard pressed throughout the Last War, but that day… I cannot recall a single moment prior where our situation had ever looked so dire. My unit, along with the remaining Queen’s Guard in Metrol, were dispatched southward to intercept the Thrane-Brelish assault. We were to delay the invaders as long as we could, until reinforcements could arrive. I had only been with my new unit for a few months and I hadn’t yet seen any action with them. I was unsure of them, and they must have been unsure of me. Still, they were quick enough to put me at ease around them. The unit was headed by Captain Daine; he was a good leader. Confident in his ability and more importantly confident in the abilities of the people he led. To this day I don’t know much about him… I don’t even know his surname. The others were an interesting bunch. Jode d’Jorasco was the unit’s physician, he was always making jokes, most of them were okay. Jode was the one person in the unity I had a lot of interaction with. Following my transfer to the Queen’s Guard, Jode made it his mission to strike up conversations whenever he saw me… particularly after the downfall of the Bells. Pierce and Lei d’Cannith… they were inseparable. They had a connection that was rare to come by, that of two strangers who had become family. It made me happy to see; reminded me of the bond I had with Adardy. Lei wasn’t the first Cannith I met, but she was certainly the first to allay my distrust of her house. She seemed to retain a sense of compassion many of her brethren lacked. Pierce had a wonderful way of speaking. Whenever I spoke to them they brought a smile to my face - I particularly enjoyed our discussion on “why humans would pierce their skin to put a contaminant inside their skin” when Pierce spotted my Bells tattoo for the first time.A Desperate Stand
We were heavily outnumbered in the south. The Thrane-Brelish army had overrun Kennrun by the time we had made it down and had begun pouring into Southern Cyre. Once there, the Queen’s Guard was broken down to individual units whose Captain’s were given autonomy. While the few warforged we had confused the enemy to make it appear we had a much larger force than we actually did, the Queen’s Guard units conducted raids; hit-and-run attacks that brought chaos to the invaders supply lines. We were slowly whittling them down, morale was fairly high that we would succeed. My unit had just come out of an early morning raid on a supply caravan traveling through the Saerun Foothills. We were not as tireless as our warforged compatriots and so we were slow, sloppy… we left tracks. A unit of Thrane-Brelish warforged pursued us through the hills as we attempted to make our escape. The tingling sensation of being followed only grew in intensity as the warforged gradually gained ground on us. As we crested a hill, we took a quick breather. Our forces were in sight not far ahead of us; they were too far for us to make it to them before the warforged would catch us however. A couple of minutes behind us we could see the warforged clearer now. They were led by a taller warforged that had spikes across their body - a Warforged Juggernaut. We were in for a rough time whatever we decided. We quickly discussed our options and came to the realization that our only chance would be to stand and fight. Make use of the surrounding terrain to negate their numbers as much as we could. We took our positions and readied ourselves for the fight ahead. I was positioned with Daine in the choke point. We had to hold long enough for the others to do some damage. In the lull before the warforged came into range, I heard Daine speak up. Just loud enough for me to hear, his eyes intent ahead of him focusing on the oncoming assault. He asked how I was doing… he told me it was an honour to have served with me. The confidence he usually exuded was softened in his words. There was a quiver of worry in his voice. The battle began well but quickly turned sour. I was able to destroy one of the warforged in the initial assault, but their design soon proved superior. The Juggernaut plowed through our defence almost immediately. Pierce rushed to plug the hole it had created. The warforged numbers and defensive capabilities threatened to overwhelm us. I took a number of severe blows that Jode, may the Gods bless him, stitched back together using his magic. Each cast of his magic left behind a throbbing pain where my gashes had been. Beyond all odds we were managing to hold the line. We wouldn’t last for much longer however. Seeing the battle turning, Lei threw herself into the fire. Flanking the warforged that were now shoulder to shoulder in our choke point, she used her magic to wound and daze several of them.Forsaken World
Lei’s magic went off with a bang, merging with a cacophony of shattering glass. A sound of thousands of glass windows shattering simultaneously that was enough to near deafen me. Everyone, warforged included, looked toward the sky to see a gargantuan conflagration that had erupted among the clouds. A tower of intense light reached out toward the sky, dispersing outward forming the likeness of a mushroom. Far off in the distance, I could see gigantic shards of glass erupting from the ground in all angles. The ground began shaking more violently than I had ever felt before. The fear and the shock I felt witnessing this is indescribable. My body became weak as though my bones had been stripped from my flesh. It took all I had just to prop myself up. I was thrown from my feet, rolling across the ground as a shockwave of immense proportion seemed to materialize instantly, bringing with it scorching air that felt as if it ripped all oxygen from my lungs and replaced it with burning coals. I couldn’t breathe for the few moments it lasted. Lay back on the ground, I eventually came to. The sky was still lit up with a fiery orange that backlit the warforged Juggernaut who now stood over me, its fists poised and ready to strike… ready to finish me off. “These people have lost enough.” It gathered its unit and began retreating back to where their army was. I summoned all the strength I could and climbed to my feet. I was bewildered, looking around me I saw my companions steadily getting to their own feet. Off in the distance I could see a curtain of dense grey fog rapidly spreading from what I could only describe as a storm of glass within what seemed like the plume of a volcanic eruption. That fog unsettled me. There was nothing about this disaster, this attack, that was natural. I took in my surroundings. The warforged were just cresting a hill out of sight. Everything in our immediate area could have seemed normal if it were not for the sky of fire. My mind was racing for that brief moment. What had happened to my mother? She was near Making - very much in the direction of that explosion. Had Dylis been far away enough in the north to be spared? I know his unit had been redirected to support our southern reinforcements. Was this the only explosion to have happened? Who did this? Had that Juggernaut known of this plot? Were they merely a distraction? I cleared my head. These questions would not have helped me in that moment. I made a conscious choice to get on with what I needed to. Everything else would come later. Afterall, we were still at war. I made my way to Daine as the others were still dazed, finding their feet. I petitioned him that we needed to leave. After a moment of silent contemplation he agreed. We gathered ourselves and started making our way to the Cyran army. We crested the hill to see a sight I couldn’t fully comprehend at the time. Our entire army, the army of Thrane and Breland lay in one mass grave. Every single person that had come here to do battle now lay dead. A line of clear, untouched ground separated the two. They had not even engaged each other yet. The banners of both sides waved furiously with the wind. I felt a pit enlarge in my stomach. Taking a deep breath I held down the urge to vomit. What could have done this?The Weight of Reality
We continued moving for hours. That gray fog was slowly gaining ground on us and a growing sense of unease was spreading among our group. We hadn’t seen another living soul. We were a couple of miles into Southern Cyre when we noticed the fog halt its advance. Coming to a rest and creating a barrier along what roughly seemed to be the border of Central Cyre. There was no doubt in my mind now. This simply could not be natural. We set up camp in what was still enemy territory. We acted as we normally would under the purview of war. In the relative calm of our camp, moods only seemed to worsen. A dark haze had taken over everyone. We all went about our duties, wordlessly. Sleep took me surprisingly quickly. My mind must have been shutting down from trying to understand the events of the day. Even my usual nightmares deserted me that night. I awoke to find the sky had settled, though a thick smog had filled the vacuum and I hoped for a moment that I had dreamed it all. Unfortunately as I clambered from my tent, the wall of dense fog mocked my listless fantasy. Daine gathered us all together. He wanted to go back into Cyre and look for survivors. There wasn’t any debate, none of us thought any differently. We packed the camp and made our way to the border. Tying a rope to each other, we stumbled our way through the curtain of fog to find the land relatively unchanged on the other side. Methodically and with haste we made our way through Cyre to the capital of Metrol where Daine hoped to find Queen Dannel. Those days of travel are a blur. My mind was blank, my body felt empty. I felt as if I was watching myself from afar. We finally reached Metrol to find it destroyed. The city of wonders I remember was all but flattened. Rubble and debris replaced the streets and any semblance of structure. The palace still stood, but getting there might take days with the obstacles we had in our way. It was sickening. We spread out a little to begin searching for survivors. Calling out for anyone who might be trapped; my voice sounded strange… distant. I searched through rubble, picking up debris, watching someone else's hands doing the work. Hour after hour we found no one. No sign of even the dead, but we couldn’t give up... there had to be someone. I had always had faith in the Sovereigns. They watched over us, subtly guiding us through our own actions. On the Day of Mourning however, my confidence in them had evaporated as quickly as that shockwave had arrived. They were on my mind as I searched the ruins. How could any of them have guided us to this point? For whatever reason, be it the Six prevailing, through the Sovereigns own intentions, or even just lack of care. They had failed. Surely this could not be their design? In an experience I can only describe as being violently torn back to reality, an unnerving screech rang out within the ruins. Within seconds several grotesque creatures were charging at us. They were small, bipedal, fleshy bags; their face was all but mouth, a wide maw with rows upon rows of sharp teeth. To make matters worse two elemental hands were flanking us. Each seemed to be two large hands of fire that had merged down the center. They walked like a spider on the flaming fingers. A short but deadly battle ensued between us and these monstrous foes. Many of us almost perished in that fight; broken and beaten in more ways than one we all came out standing on the other side. In the aftermath Daine fell to his knees looking toward the palace high above. We had all slowly, but surely, come to the realisation that there was not a single thing any of us could do here except die. Daine struggled to fight off the despair that had gently been gripping him these past few days. My resolve was somewhat hardened. I had family, and I knew they were outside of Cyre. Perhaps whoever had massacred my nation, my people had spared other lands. Daine could not see past the loss of our Queen and the devastation that was in front of him. He was lost. I had to remind him of our duty to protect Cyre; that Cyre is not a city, or the land that surrounds it, but the people that had lived here. They would need us, as we would need them now. I don’t know if it was my words that moved him, or if he simply felt his final duty was to make sure his comrades could have a fighting chance at living, but he made a decision. We would head west and find Prince Oargev.The Fallout
We made it out of Cyre without any issues. It was eerily empty the entire journey. While on the road to Vathirong we met with some refugees who had made camp outside of the town. A few of them were injured, but all of them were scarred. I could see the despair on their faces. The relief of finding others washed over me as I felt a tenseness I didn’t realise I was holding release. A woman named Iona spoke with us on behalf of the others. She told us they were headed for a camp where other Cyran refugees were being told to go. The Brelish, our invaders not but a couple of weeks ago, were allowing Cyrans to gather there safely. Together we traveled toward the camp. As we approached I felt the mood of our group tense up, I remember distinctly gripping the handle of my halberd tightly; a handful of Brelish troops were standing on the road to the camp, armed and armoured. We grew slowly closer to them when two of them turned and rushed away. My mind was ready for a fight, I felt an anger growing within me that I struggled to stifle. I must have been more obvious than I thought; the Brelish soldiers placed their hands upon their swords, but didn’t draw the blade. I felt a hand gently touch my shoulder. It was Daine. He didn’t need to say anything. The anger I held faded away. My heart felt heavy... I was tired. The two Brelish soldiers returned with blankets and food. They led us into the camp and gave us tents to set up. How far our beautiful country had fallen. I settled into a routine over the next couple of days. The others seemed restless and Lei had mentioned going west to Sharn. That wasn’t something I wanted to do, but I would do what Daine ordered me to. That choice was soon removed from my troubles however, when Prince Oargev and his entourage appeared in the camp. Ariana. My amazing, brilliant wife was with him. Sat on the horse with her, arms wrapped around him was Llyr. I hadn’t seen either of them in months but it felt like years. Ariana spotted me almost immediately thankfully, for my legs refused to respond. I felt weighted in that moment. She came over with Llyr in tow and hugged me. The rush of emotion was overwhelming. They were alive! I’d have fallen to my knees were it not for Ariana propping me up. They were safe. We had little time to speak before the Prince began a speech. “Weep, oh nations of Khorvaire, for the Jewel of Galifar is no more. You have finally completed what you started when you rejected the true and proper right of Mishann to ascend the throne of Galifar. With your jealousy and petty ambitions, you have brought this disaster on us all! Weep, my brothers and sisters, for our homes and our families have been eliminated in a foul and cowardly way. Do not let Cyre be forgotten! Do not let the Day of Mourning end! Not until we have discovered the villain. Not until we have made the villain face justice for this heinous crime. Not until Cyre's children are once more safe and content within their homeland. Weep this day, my fellow Cyrans, and never forget. But tomorrow... tomorrow we begin to hunt down this villain, to demand justice, and to rebuild beloved, cherished Cyre. Tomorrow! Tomorrow we shall go home!” His words bound me to that camp. To those people. I will see the day when Cyre rises from the ashes. I will see those responsible burn for the crimes they have committed. After the effect of the Prince’s words died down, Daine, Lei, Jode, and Pierce sought me out in the crowd. They left for Sharn, looking to help other Cyrans who found themselves in a hard place. Daine gave me his cloak… I hope to one day honour my promise in returning it to him. It has been four years since the Mourning and New Cyre has grown in numbers if not in infrastructure. We have found no answers. Cyrans still live in destitution. Ariana has taken Llyr to Q’barra on behalf of the Prince, and I have been doing everything in my power to aid him. The people of the camp have taken to calling me the Mourningstar... a somewhat cruel title that only serves to remind me of my lost brothers and sisters of the Bell and only slightly preferable to Feathertail. Still, many of them look to me when they need assistance. I voice their troubles to the Prince, even if it is rare that anything comes of it. I have a newfound faith in myself following principles of the Blood of Vol, even if I don’t agree with all of their philosophies. There have been many doomsayers and missionaries from various faiths in New Cyre, but none have rung more true to me than the strength that can be found within oneself. The gods have lost my trust completely. There are so many unanswered questions… but, for now, we are surviving. I sorely look toward a future where we can live. What our dreams imagine, our hands create.
The Horrors of the North
14th Olarune 998 YK
14th Olarune 998 YK: Horrors from the North
Eight years. It seems a century ago... Despite how many years had gone by since my very first taste of war, I had seen relatively little in the way of fully drawn battle lines. Cyre had been fighting defensively for so long; it felt like we had been beating back wave after wave of invaders for most of my life. All in all that wasn’t far off the mark. We hadn’t had a full blown offensive since before the Western Devastation. We were losing. In the winter of 990 YK, my 18th name-day fast approaching, we had been transferred to Fort Bright to fill a gap. Many Border Sentinels loathed to be given the northern postings and we were no different. Karrnath was a bitter enemy. Their use of their dead brought a chill to most Cyran’s spines. If there was ever a nation that had lost their way in the chaos of war, in the necessity of survival it was them. We feared the undead of Karrnath far more than we feared any warforged army. They were not much different from warforged: tireless, uncaring, relentless… but they bled, they moaned and cried as they fought. Their faces were locked into the expressions they had when they took their final breath, and they stank. There is always the smell of death on the battlefield, but when the undead arrive… words can’t describe. Tensions always ran high in the north. Patience was frayed, and people were on edge. It wasn’t just the prospect of fighting the undead, but the increased duties we all had to keep up with the tighter security we were expected to uphold. That meant patrols were undertaken by the majority of the unit, if not all.A Chilling Patrol
We had gone out on one such patrol; everyone was there. Adardy, Dylis, Lili, Llion, Madlen, Owain, and myself. Karrnathi incursions had a tendency of occurring at night; hoping their tireless undead would be able to slip through and cause disarray when they eventually arrived at a populated center I supposed, and so we began the patrol just as the sun was going down. It was a cold evening; the sun had scarcely melted away the frost from the previous night. The terrain was relatively rough around Scion’s Sound on the north eastern side, so our route took us on a long winding path to several lookout points that overlooked the waters below. At each lookout we would spend an hour or so keeping watch before moving on. We were freezing by the time we had reached the second to last lookout. Our supplies had been running low in recent years and we hadn’t been provided any winter clothing. I fortunately had a thick gambeson layered with leathers over the top and a thick wool cloak that helped to keep the cold away for a short while. It was my turn to take my rest while others kept lookouts. I sat there awash in the light of the moons, slowly drifting off. Before sleep could take me however, we heard a familiar bird call - it was Adardy sounding out that they had spotted something. The others were already rushing to grab their gear and head over. Groaning, I followed suit. Off in the distance, crossing Scion’s Sound was a small rowboat travelling at some speed. We couldn’t make out how many were aboard it at the time but there were a few at least. Dylis contemplated for a short while, watching where it was going. Eventually the decision was made and we made our way down quietly to find a vantage point of it coming ashore. As we did so, it began to gently snow. I couldn’t help but take in the cool air - there was always something about snow and rain that calmed my nerves. We came to a small hedgerow just above a clearing on the river bank that gave us a good view and waited. The rowboat was still headed in our direction, it seemed to have quickened its pace and it didn’t take long for us to understand why. The water around the boat began to splash; darkened shapes of what appeared to be arms were grasping out of the water, attempting to drag the souls on board into the icy depths of the river. All of us started mentally preparing ourselves for a fight against the undead. Scatterings of prayers were muttered, obscure rituals were performed. As for myself I simply cleaned the head of my halberd and tightened the magenta cloth I had tied around my bracers. They were a momento Ariana had given me before I left. Eventually the boat made it to shore. Disembarking we saw maybe five figures. Unsure of their allegiances as of yet, Dylis decided to watch some more. We watched as a small horde of undead made their way out of the waters behind them. The ensuing fight seemed a tough one, but the strangers appeared to have the situation handled. The situation quickly turned however, when we spotted another group exiting the waters just up shore and began making their way to surround the already outnumbered strangers. Muttering something about the enemies of Karrnath being temporary friends of Cyre, Dylis gave the order to engage the second group of undead to prevent their approach. We moved in quickly, and as quietly as we could hoping to avoid attracting their attention till the last moment. Seizing the initiative, I charged in and attempted to take out one of the undead as early as possible. My halberd came down into its shoulder, knocking it to its knees as my comrades engaged the others. I was emboldened by my strike, and turned to go to the aid of Llion who was having some trouble with a particularly bloated undead. As I made my move however, the undead stirred once more. It was getting back up! Any momentum I had, had been lost. The fight went from bad to worse in a matter of seconds as I watched several of the Stalkers around me take near fatal blows. The undead I thought I had taken out began wrestling me for control of my halberd which was partly still wedged within its shoulder. With every moment that passed I felt the intensity of the battle grow, I let go of my halberd and attempted to draw my longsword. Panic washed over me as I felt resistance from my scabbard. With the cold damp of the winter air, it had begun to rust in the scabbard causing it to jam as I tried to draw it. Time almost seemed to slow as I took in the scene around me. Several of the undead had been slain by my fellow Stalkers, but too many had taken hits themselves. The bodies of my comrades: Llion, Owain, and Madlen lay motionless on the floor. Adardy weakly hobbled toward Lili as the large undead Llion had been fighting loomed over her. Dylis was slowly retreating from a couple of undead, clutching their side with one hand and fending their pursuers off with a sword in the other. The strangers had begun their own retreat, undead dispatched. They disappeared into the brush. My puppeteered opponent drew closer to me, lashing out with its arms to pummel me. Its first strike took me clean across my face with surprising force, knocking me backward. My vision went dark for a moment; the moons above faded in and out of self duplicates. The undead raised its arms to begin its final assault, but I managed to finally free my sword and weakly stab at it; the force of it falling onto my sword was enough to kill it. The relief of my victory was short lived. The mechanical cries of Adardy as they were taken down by the bloated undead rang out; it began making its way toward me. The sickly pangs of panic threatened to overtake me. I stumbled about, struggling to regain my footing and retrieve my halberd. Just as I was able to wrestle it free from the bone of the undead, the bloated undead made its attack. I closed my eyes to see nothing; no solution came to me. I was to die there on that frostbitten river bank. A tingle, almost an itch, began on the back of my neck that turned into a worrying warmth. That warmth traveled to cover my entire body, as I felt a slight force on my stomach accompanied with a gentle and short humming noise. Opening my eyes, I saw a faint shimmering layer of energy across my body. The undead had fallen over with the force of its attack. Taking hold of my halberd I brought it down upon its head ending its second life. The danger was not yet over. Dylis had managed to take care of one of his pursuers, but another remained. With all the strength I had left, I charged toward the undead and smoothly intercepted an attack meant for Dylis; it bounced off the shimmering energy giving Dylis the opportunity they needed to finally finish it off. That was the last time I ever neglected to care for my weapons.The Aftermath
We lost over half the Stalkers that night. Llion, Owain, and Madlen had all succumbed to their wounds and died that very night. As for the others well, they survived… but not wholly. Lili had taken a serious blow to the head, she was discharged from service and sent home to recover though I'm not sure she ever did. Adardy had broken a leg but they still helped me to carry the other two back to Fort Bright - they always were the best of us. After that though they were shipped off for repairs. I didn’t hear from them again. Dylis fell in and out of consciousness as we made our way back to the fort. In their moments of lucidness they managed to whisper a warning to me. I didn’t understand at the time but... I am grateful for it now. Once at Fort Bright the Purple Stalkers were disbanded, with too many losses. We would be replaced with an all warforged unit. Dylis and I were sent home to Maplevale where Dylis was able to recover fairly quickly. They were eventually transferred to an infantry unity in the north but not before the new year. I was home long enough to celebrate my birthday with my mother, Dylis, and Ariana. A few months later just before the new year, I married Ariana. It was a short lived but sorely needed respite from war. I needed some joy in my life after all the loss… to replace the horrors of my nightmares with sweet and comforting dreams. It changed little, but it did change.Fortune from Disaster
In the new year, maybe a week after our wedding I received a letter ordering me to the capital, Metrol. I had been to the capital only once before, and it had been brief. It was where I had met Ariana; the Stalkers had been part of her escort to the border on a diplomatic mission into Breland. We traveled down together, it was some of the best weeks of my life. I very nearly forgot the troubles of war. Reality hit hard once we reached Metrol. We were to split for some time once again, we both had jobs to get done. I had made my way to the local garrison to report for whatever reason they had summoned. After a few days they told me to report to my new commander, a certain Gesricar. They gave me directions, and I followed them only to find myself stood outside The Yoke. I had heard the stories of course. The Champions of the Bell - Heroes of Cyre who went on daring raids. I thought there must be some kind of mistake, they had given me the wrong directions, or worse I was to be made into some sort of lackey. I went inside where I met with Gesricar. A moment of anger grew in my stomach, quickly replaced with excitement and pride as he retailed the story of that night on the northern border. The strangers we had seen were the Champions of the Bell; they had recovered intelligence that had proven another champion of the people, Shaldra Antarielle, to be a traitor. Gesricar said the Purple Stalkers sacrifices had made it possible for the Bells to deliver this evidence. From that moment fourth I was a Champion of the Bell. I had never really understood why we were fighting. The missions I undertook with the Bells provided me with a clarity for the first time in my life. Our people had suffered generations of wars, famines, and loss. They needed a reprieve, but our nation, our Queen was set upon by greed and destruction of others. We were losing, and I would do what was necessary to end the bloodshed; to protect the innocence of an innocent nation. At least that’s what I told myself. I have come to realise that people will do in war time, what they would never dream of in peace. People are warped by war. I was no different. The Bells are gone and I hold onto their secrets. I alone carry the burdens of the things we did. I still receive praise for my role as a Bell; a little bit of me dies inside each time I do... even so, I am proud to have served Cyre and her people. They all deserved better.
The Bonds of War
5th Olarune 998 YK
5th Olarune 998 YK: The Bonds of War
I learned a lot over the years of campaigning; from many colourful, and interesting people. None have topped the lessons I learned in my time serving alongside the warforged of Cyran’s military. Their sacrifices propped a slowly crumbling Cyre up; their ingenuity and skill was underestimated at almost every turn by our enemies… underestimated even by those who called them allies; though their value as tireless, disposable soldiers was never lost on those that commanded them. During the autumn of 987 YK, I think sometime in Rhaan, I was stationed on the eastern border with southern Cyre - Valenar. In the lull following the Western Devastation we had been gearing up with a small force, our intentions to retake parts of southern Cyre if only for a morale victory that was sorely needed. I was now 15 years old, stouter and somewhat more experienced. The prospect of going on the offensive was somewhat unnerving to me even so. I had never been a member of an incursion to other lands; far from it, Cyre had been on the defensive for decades at this point. The Purple Stalkers were older, and fewer. Dylis informed us we were expecting a new recruit, in time for the offensive. A warforged unit: W-1262S. I had served with warforged before so I knew they were straight to the point; they followed orders to the letter. I was apprehensive of it at first. Dylis had told me stories such as the Massacre of Arythawn Keep which lingered in my mind whenever I dealt with any warforged, and although I always believed they were not to blame, I couldn’t help but be wary of them. When it first arrived, it was shiny and clean… undented by war. “W-1262S, reconnaissance and espionage unit at full capacity. Awaiting commands.” It stood in the same spot for days, Dylis had neglected to state anything and so, it just stood. I stayed relatively clear of it. I had no reason to do otherwise. I had already been informed of its capabilities. It was an espionage unit we would use to help destroy infrastructure in our retreat once the offensive was over. I didn’t need to know anything else. I awoke early one morning just before the sun had risen, to the sound of rapid, furious wing beats. I grabbed my halberd and tentatively stepped outside, ready to raise the alarm. Cockatrice’s were somewhat common and a lone cockatrice could cause chaos within a camp. As I stepped out from my tent, I spotted movement in the corner of my eye. I spun to meet it, halberd held defensively in front of me. The darkness before sunrise made it hard to tell, but I thought I saw a figure moving between the tents. I called out to wake up the others. We searched around the tents for some time, but found nothing. Dylis told me to speak with W-1262S and see if it had seen anything. “This unit has seen nothing that raised suspicion above acceptable levels.” it told me. I sighed, wondering if I had just been seeing things but, as I turned to walk away and find Dylis, I spotted something unusual. Sticking out of this spotless, shining warforged were some feathers stuck into various places across its body. I reached forward to pick one, but as I did W-1262S took a step backward… “This unit is sorry for it’s failures. Please allow it to keep the feathers. I like them.” I was stunned. I began talking with it. Asking about the feathers. It turns out that they had been sneaking around while we were asleep to feed the local birds. They told me they enjoyed it! My preconceptions about these beings had been turned on its head. I had always thought they were always mindless automatons, built for nothing but war, but how could it be that it could enjoy something so mundane as feeding birds? We called them Adardy after that. Adardy and I became good friends in the following years. The offensive into Valenar fell through, but Adardy stayed with us. I grew a deep respect for them, for all warforged… the horrors they had to endure on our behalf. We were so nonchalant about their lives. If I think of all the people I know, of all the quirks that they have. Their joys, their woes. The memories of those people. It brings only sadness to know I could have known so much more about the warforged I had served with. To have potentially brought them a modicum of happiness before their lives were extinguished. The Treaty of Thronehold has many issues but, at least they got one thing right. The warforged deserve far more than simply being allowed to live. I wonder where you ended up Adardy. Wherever it is, I hope you have found peace… somewhere with a lot of birds!
The Western Devastation
19th Zaranthyr 998 YK
19th Zaranthyr 998 YK: The Western Devastation
Well here goes. I'll start with my first tour all the way back in 983 YK. I was 11 years old the first time I went on tour with Dylis. There wasn’t anyone I trusted more than them, they were the father I never knew. I always thought nothing could go wrong with them nearby, they were infallible. We were stationed on the border with Thrane, somewhere in the north near Eston. It had been pretty quiet for days; perhaps in hindsight too quiet. Dylis had received word from other Border Sentinels that there hadn’t been any raids in some time; that put the Purple Stalkers on edge, they were jumping at the slightest noises or movement within the trees. I didn’t understand what all the fuss was over; I had thought this posting would be exciting! Full of action! I wish I had been wrong about that. Occasionally Dylis would take me out on patrol with them. I don’t remember much from them anymore, though I remember the excitement I felt any time Dylis would call me up, or the joy I felt getting away from the mundanity of the camp where day after day Dylis would run drills with me. Ensure that I stuck to my routine: wake up at dawn, wash, dress, eat, clean my weapon, drill till midday, repeat. I’m thankful Dol Arrah or Dol Dorn were working guiding Dylis through those months - I owe my life to the discipline I learned. The Glistening Tide I had gotten used to the routine of camp life, and a large part of me wished to be back home in Maplevale but, that was not to be at least for sometime. On the 10th Nymm 983 YK, I was with Dylis and Owain patrolling around the camp and watching the border. We were approaching our overwatch of Angwar Keep when we Owain called for a halt and pressed his ear to the ground. As I stood there, expecting the all clear to come through as had happened so often before, I began to feel it in my feet. The ground was shaking. It was slight at first but, as we stood there silently listening, it grew far more noticeable. Before long a deep thumping sound began to pick up. Dylis broke the silence, stating we needed to push forward and find the source of the noise. The pulse of what I thought must have been some small earth-quake, steadily grew in intensity as we moved - assaulting my senses and before long with every pulse a wave of anxiety washed through me. For the first time I had been out here any desire for excitement, for action had evaporated; leaving only the residue of fear and apprehension that slowly coalesced into a harsh chill running down my spine. Upon reaching our overwatch of Scions Sound, the realisation of the situation we now found ourselves began to dawn. Thousands upon thousands of soldiers on horseback or otherwise were making their way across the waters, with thousands more already ashore. Their breastplates and weapons glistened in the midday sun making it seem almost as if the river had grown double its size. The shock to my system was too much for the moment, I remember thinking I was in a dream or hallucinating - it couldn’t have been possible for so many to be in a single place. My stupor was broken with a jolt as Dylis ran to me and shook me. He was speaking quickly, too much of what he said slipped my mind; I caught only the last sentence: “...run, warn who you can, stay with Owain. Do you understand Terfel? Stay. With. Him. I will catch up when I can.” With his final word, Owain grabbed my arm and began dragging me back the way we came.
Terrors in the Dark
The sounds of footsteps marching, of hooves beating the ground, was nearly deafening by this point. They were moving quickly whoever they were. Before long we were dodging the forward vanguard and their scouting parties; slowing is to an almost negligible speed. By the time we reached the camp it had been overrun, though it seemed many of the Purple Stalkers were able to evade the marauding troops. Split into small groups, like we were, meant we wouldn’t stand a chance if caught out in the open - but it gave us a fighting chance of escaping with our lives. I was exhausted; barely able to keep pace with Owain who seemed a heartbeat away from just leaving me behind. He liked to talk to himself. Muttering under his breath. Often about how fucked we were, but every so often it was about where we were going. Owain had never been the best tracker and without anyone else here he was struggling to find his bearings. There was a rally point around 2 miles north of the camp; a shallow cave system hidden beneath a small lake. I gathered this is where we were meant to head. Night had fallen as we waited, watching the camp. Hoping to catch a glimpse of anyone we knew, with no luck. Owain muttered some small prayers to Dol Arrah before we set off to try and find the rally point. I don’t think I have ever been as scared as I was over the next few hours as we searched around in the dark; Owain was always pushing ahead, never slowing his pace. I was terrified I would be left behind. A few times I very nearly was, I dug deep though, I just managed to keep up with him. Hours went by, wandering in the dark stumbling across patrols and the camps of the hordes that had massed within the forest. The anxiety of what would happen if we were caught never ceased. It weighed on me like I had an anvil in my stomach. I teetered on the edge of control; there were a few times I recall feeling a heat growing in my face and attempting to stem the growing flow of tears. It was a time like this that we heard the sounds of clashing metal and grunts. We moved quickly toward the sounds to find the rally point and a small scouting party that had been engaged by what seemed like the majority of the Purple Stalkers. We circled the group as quickly as we could, getting behind the enemy. Owain looked me up and down, picking up my shortsword and placing it into the proper guard position before grunting and nodding… “Don’t die little one.” He charged into the fray - I stood frozen watching the ensuing fight. It surprised me, at how quickly it ended the arrival of Owain caused the small party to think they had bitten off more than they could handle. One of them charged in my direction, attempting to flee. My feet were stone - they refused to listen. Barreling into me, we both went flying to the ground. She recovered quickly taking hold of her axe tightly, turning upon me ready to fight. I panicked, trying to remember my drills and scrambled to find my sword. Just as I did, picking myself up on my feet, she began her assault. She must have been dazed somewhat, her attacks were hectic - but it was all I could do to just barely fend her off. I remember the tears streaming down my face as I weakly blocked and dodged her attacks. In a matter of seconds she had knocked me backwards, disarming me in the process; holding her axe ready to cut my throat. She stood over me, her face full of wild rage, breathing heavily. It was a harrowing sight to see her expression gently soften into shame; the sadness that filled her hazel eyes as she stared down at me. A sharp whistle sounded out from behind her; she twisted her body to look as a javelin bore through her neck, and dropped with a thud next to me. Her eyes have haunted me ever since… the noise of it. I wish I could have known her. Dylis steadily made his way to me from the darkness, picking me up covered in her blood. “You’re alright now boy. Come.”
An Imposters Celebration
We joined up with the remaining Purple Stalkers who had dispatched the remaining Thrane soldiers. Dylis informed us of the gravity of the situation. Eston had been besieged. With little we could do, or hope that the siege of Eston could be broken, Dylis decided we were to move northward and try to get to Swoz, get the word out about the attack. We moved with relative ease northward since the legions of Thrane held, securing the region immediately around Eston. The siege ended quickly, but not before we were able to link up with a small contingent of the Cyran military led by General Alvos Brillik. Dylis decided I had seen all the war I needed for the moment, and kept me within Swoz away from anymore fights. The Stalkers showered me with praise for what I “did”. Dylis even introduced me to General Alvos as the boy who bravely fought against the tyranny of Thrane. All I felt was apprehension - the shame of being the cause of her death. I had earned none of the praise placed on my shoulders. Today I can say with confidence that I did as well as could be expected for a boy of 12 years… not even time will dampen the regret I feel whenever I close my eyes. I hope you found comfort with your Silver Flame.
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