Ferryll Rocan - Loup-garou
Getting out of the mountains had been so easy! Just follow the shoreline, sure there were one or two narrow ledges as the new cliffside climbed and circled the crater but it wasn’t like this tangled mass of forest with sheer drop-offs with no warning.
I’ve been trying to make my way through the forest at a safe distance from the edge, but the underbrush is quite thick and it has been slow going. Around midmorning today, I found what might charitably be called a path. It seems relatively straight and is definitely more than a game trail. So, I decided to follow it and see where it led. It was still headed south, just more inland.
I was able to make much better time, and the further I went, the more the path widened and seemed to be intentional. An hour or two before sunset, I met a human man, a hunter, judging by the way he was dressed. Oddly, they also seemed very loose fitting and easy to remove. He was quite a large man, just over 6ft tall with massive arms and shoulders. Dark bushy hair and beard, he wore a wolfpaw amulet around his neck with a glinting ruby in the paw.
He introduced himself as Fedrick Brushtail and asked me about my business in these woods. I replied simply that I was a traveler and seeker of knowledge and I meant no harm to anyone or anything in these woods.
At that assurance some of his gruffness faded, although the concern was still there. He warned that the woods weren’t currently very safe to be in at night and suggested I head towards a nearby village to seek refuge for the night. I asked what kind of trouble and why hadn’t they taken care of it if it was a problem.
He grimaced and said “Leftovers from the mage storms, mate. And we are taking care of it...by warning travelers. So for now I suggest you head to Bay Moon. Follow the road till you can see the village, and take the dirt track to the left at the clump of three rowan trees. Ol’ Crowcaller should have a room, and might be able to answer some more of those infernal questions!”
That last being said as almost a snarl, I decided to follow his advice and soon found myself at quite a neat cottage. Wrapped around a large oak tree, it seemed both spacious and suited...in a way that made my elven heritage glad.
The door was opened, just as my hand was about to knock. “It’s about time you got here. Take off your cloak, stew is on the table,” said a human woman with dark grey hair, wrapped in a bun, and silver eyes, flecked with purple. Almost without thinking I stepped inside and started doing what she had asked. It wasn’t until I was seated at the table that I realized I had done anything. The woman, now seated across from me, introduced herself as Nelo Crowcaller and said that she was the Wise Woman of Bay Moon. She went on to reinforce what the hunter had said. I would be free to leave in the morning, but it was best that I stay inside overnight.
When I asked why, her face saddened and she simply said, “Loup-garou.” At my look of non-comprehension she explained, “Utterly primal and savage werewolves from the War. They have learned to control their powers somewhat, but the one thing they cannot control is the moon. When Rilar shines bright, they must change and will attack any strangers. Have you not heard of the loup-garou?”
When I said that I hadn’t, she smiled, “Well, it is not exactly dinner conversation, so let us save it for after we have eaten.” The rest of dinner passed with light conversation and as Nelo and I settled into armchairs by the fire, I brought the subject up again.
The beautiful human woman sighed and rubbed her forehead. “A truly senseless and tragic tale. The Pelagris Forest has always been the home of the fey and many of their subjects. Kelvern knew this, and spent much of the early war avoiding those lands, instead focusing his attention on the eastern lands.
Eventually however, the hubris of the mad mage overcame any sense of self preservation and he started expanding into the Forest. At first, he had the element of surprise and managed to make major inroads. Many of the fey simply retreated back into the Feywild, closing portals and abandoning Ellebore to Kelvern’s iron fist.
A few of the more powerful archfey did decide to fight back and together were able to rally troops of their own. Those forces were able to halt the advance of Kelvern’s troops, but even the archfey themselves could not push them back. Deadlocked, and angered at being stopped, the warlord wizard turned to more devious means.
The leader of the archfey was an opulent creature named Pancorin, an Autumn Fae Lord who held the heart tree of the Forest. Rumored to be considered the unacknowledged king of the wood, they most often appeared as a pale elven man with long emerald hair, dressed in the colors of red and gold with a crown of leaves. Kelvern determined that he would kill Pancorin….as he had done with so many other leaders throughout Ellebore.”
Nelo stopped to finish off her drink, before pouring another. “My sources are unclear as to exactly how the mage did it, but he managed to put a squad of fifty into the elven palace itself. Once inside, one team went hunting Pancorin and while the rest of the squad stayed behind to secure retreat.
By ill luck or the will of the gods, the hit team found the archfey in a moment of weakness, his shields down from communing with the heart tree. Pancorin fought well, but the arms and magic brought against him proved to be too much and he was slain.
With his dying breath however he laid a curse on the 13 remaining members of the death squad. In short they became mindless, savage, killing machines with one mission. But again, the ill winds of fate, along with his twisted and malicious mind allowed Kelvern to gain the upper hand. The wizard killed all but one of those poor souls. He then experimented on the survivor before building his own force of nearly unstoppable shock troops.
Through some means, most likely magical, Kelvern was able to confuse the part of the curse that targeted him and instead point the loup-garou towards whatever Kelvern wished for them to fight. When they were not needed, the mad mage kept them under magical sleep.
When the Cataclysm happened, a squad of sixty had been sent north to harry a dwarven mine. Far away enough to not be consumed in the explosion, the shockwave knocked the entire troop unconscious.
When they woke, they were back in humanoid form and for the moment could not change back. Realizing that they were now on their own….and not well prepared they went looking for shelter and a place to wait out the continuing mage storms.
As things settled into this new normal of stunted magics and the storms ceased the loup-garou found that they were now more strongly in control of the change. It seemed that with their quarry dead, along with the disrupted magical field, that when they changed they regained some level of sanity.
They also found ways to control the change. It was discovered that strong emotion of any kind would trigger the change, and so they sought ways of suppressing emotion and relying on logic. They were still subject to the full period of Rilar and would change on those nights without fail.”
Setting her glass down on the table, Nelo turned to look at me. “So, that is the tale of the loup-garou.” And I swear there was a damn wolf howl immediately after!
She only laughed and looked into the fire before meeting my eyes again, ”So that should be enough history, Librarian...care to try a little romance?” I shall not write of what transpired next, suffice to say, I did not worry about any more wolves.
I’ve been trying to make my way through the forest at a safe distance from the edge, but the underbrush is quite thick and it has been slow going. Around midmorning today, I found what might charitably be called a path. It seems relatively straight and is definitely more than a game trail. So, I decided to follow it and see where it led. It was still headed south, just more inland.
I was able to make much better time, and the further I went, the more the path widened and seemed to be intentional. An hour or two before sunset, I met a human man, a hunter, judging by the way he was dressed. Oddly, they also seemed very loose fitting and easy to remove. He was quite a large man, just over 6ft tall with massive arms and shoulders. Dark bushy hair and beard, he wore a wolfpaw amulet around his neck with a glinting ruby in the paw.
He introduced himself as Fedrick Brushtail and asked me about my business in these woods. I replied simply that I was a traveler and seeker of knowledge and I meant no harm to anyone or anything in these woods.
At that assurance some of his gruffness faded, although the concern was still there. He warned that the woods weren’t currently very safe to be in at night and suggested I head towards a nearby village to seek refuge for the night. I asked what kind of trouble and why hadn’t they taken care of it if it was a problem.
He grimaced and said “Leftovers from the mage storms, mate. And we are taking care of it...by warning travelers. So for now I suggest you head to Bay Moon. Follow the road till you can see the village, and take the dirt track to the left at the clump of three rowan trees. Ol’ Crowcaller should have a room, and might be able to answer some more of those infernal questions!”
That last being said as almost a snarl, I decided to follow his advice and soon found myself at quite a neat cottage. Wrapped around a large oak tree, it seemed both spacious and suited...in a way that made my elven heritage glad.
The door was opened, just as my hand was about to knock. “It’s about time you got here. Take off your cloak, stew is on the table,” said a human woman with dark grey hair, wrapped in a bun, and silver eyes, flecked with purple. Almost without thinking I stepped inside and started doing what she had asked. It wasn’t until I was seated at the table that I realized I had done anything. The woman, now seated across from me, introduced herself as Nelo Crowcaller and said that she was the Wise Woman of Bay Moon. She went on to reinforce what the hunter had said. I would be free to leave in the morning, but it was best that I stay inside overnight.
When I asked why, her face saddened and she simply said, “Loup-garou.” At my look of non-comprehension she explained, “Utterly primal and savage werewolves from the War. They have learned to control their powers somewhat, but the one thing they cannot control is the moon. When Rilar shines bright, they must change and will attack any strangers. Have you not heard of the loup-garou?”
When I said that I hadn’t, she smiled, “Well, it is not exactly dinner conversation, so let us save it for after we have eaten.” The rest of dinner passed with light conversation and as Nelo and I settled into armchairs by the fire, I brought the subject up again.
The beautiful human woman sighed and rubbed her forehead. “A truly senseless and tragic tale. The Pelagris Forest has always been the home of the fey and many of their subjects. Kelvern knew this, and spent much of the early war avoiding those lands, instead focusing his attention on the eastern lands.
Eventually however, the hubris of the mad mage overcame any sense of self preservation and he started expanding into the Forest. At first, he had the element of surprise and managed to make major inroads. Many of the fey simply retreated back into the Feywild, closing portals and abandoning Ellebore to Kelvern’s iron fist.
A few of the more powerful archfey did decide to fight back and together were able to rally troops of their own. Those forces were able to halt the advance of Kelvern’s troops, but even the archfey themselves could not push them back. Deadlocked, and angered at being stopped, the warlord wizard turned to more devious means.
The leader of the archfey was an opulent creature named Pancorin, an Autumn Fae Lord who held the heart tree of the Forest. Rumored to be considered the unacknowledged king of the wood, they most often appeared as a pale elven man with long emerald hair, dressed in the colors of red and gold with a crown of leaves. Kelvern determined that he would kill Pancorin….as he had done with so many other leaders throughout Ellebore.”
Nelo stopped to finish off her drink, before pouring another. “My sources are unclear as to exactly how the mage did it, but he managed to put a squad of fifty into the elven palace itself. Once inside, one team went hunting Pancorin and while the rest of the squad stayed behind to secure retreat.
By ill luck or the will of the gods, the hit team found the archfey in a moment of weakness, his shields down from communing with the heart tree. Pancorin fought well, but the arms and magic brought against him proved to be too much and he was slain.
With his dying breath however he laid a curse on the 13 remaining members of the death squad. In short they became mindless, savage, killing machines with one mission. But again, the ill winds of fate, along with his twisted and malicious mind allowed Kelvern to gain the upper hand. The wizard killed all but one of those poor souls. He then experimented on the survivor before building his own force of nearly unstoppable shock troops.
Through some means, most likely magical, Kelvern was able to confuse the part of the curse that targeted him and instead point the loup-garou towards whatever Kelvern wished for them to fight. When they were not needed, the mad mage kept them under magical sleep.
When the Cataclysm happened, a squad of sixty had been sent north to harry a dwarven mine. Far away enough to not be consumed in the explosion, the shockwave knocked the entire troop unconscious.
When they woke, they were back in humanoid form and for the moment could not change back. Realizing that they were now on their own….and not well prepared they went looking for shelter and a place to wait out the continuing mage storms.
As things settled into this new normal of stunted magics and the storms ceased the loup-garou found that they were now more strongly in control of the change. It seemed that with their quarry dead, along with the disrupted magical field, that when they changed they regained some level of sanity.
They also found ways to control the change. It was discovered that strong emotion of any kind would trigger the change, and so they sought ways of suppressing emotion and relying on logic. They were still subject to the full period of Rilar and would change on those nights without fail.”
Setting her glass down on the table, Nelo turned to look at me. “So, that is the tale of the loup-garou.” And I swear there was a damn wolf howl immediately after!
She only laughed and looked into the fire before meeting my eyes again, ”So that should be enough history, Librarian...care to try a little romance?” I shall not write of what transpired next, suffice to say, I did not worry about any more wolves.
Authoring Date
45 Sov'van 97 TA
