Realms of Myth

The Cunningman and the Horned God.

Oak left the great hall to go take care of some chores for Skathach while the knights went to visit the mystics… Strolling through the festive crowds, he noticed that people seemed to pause what they were doing for a moment and briefly watch him. There were whispers and gasps as news of his latest warnings reached the people. Some spoke disbelief in his words. There were ramblings about being untrustworthy. He has been traveling with knights aligned with the church of the light. Murmurings also circulated stating how Oak said sacrilegious things about Cernunnos. Someone mentioned that his visions were confirmed by the faction leaders. Pilgrims who have been to Rhiannon’s pool before shared stories of Oak, the strange elfin cunning man, seer and warrior. No matter what they thought of him, they nodded respectfully as he passed.

A little elfling girl ran up to Oak and handed him a barleycorn necklace before running back to her parents. At least they are not fearful of me this time, he thought. He put on the necklace and teared up at the pure innocence of the exchange before making his way to the Wise woman’s hut.

Outside the hut, a small group of humans were waiting for a chance to ask about what the gods may have in store for them and their families. Since Skathach would not be back for some time, Oak decided to indulge them. Most asked advice on love or family quarrels, things that did not really involve a necessity of divination. This was a good thing. He was taught not to abuse his gifts and did not want to give the gods reason to be mad at him. He threw the bones for a couple of folks wanting to know if loved ones with the Fianna were safe. He was glad to report that the war band he looked into was to return to them at Samhain. He wondered if he too would meet up with his warband and his bonded brother, Hemlock, since they were out searching for the swords as well. He got lost in his thoughts and took a moment to gather himself. He went to the door to welcome the next traveler with questions and saw that more and more people started gathering outside the hut. Word of the warnings had spread and there were many wanting to know how they would fair with the upcoming storms and battles. Oak knew that he had to get out.

Looking for a way to escape, he grabbed Skathach’s red, pointy hat of invisibility off the chair and left the hut. He apologized to folks and told them he had other matters to attend to, but people wanted answers and so they continued to follow him while shouting their questions to him. Using a trick of stealth, he quickly ducked behind a tree and threw on the hat. Once invisible, he was able to make his quiet egress. Oak suppressed his laughter knowing that he just added to more of his Cunning Man mysteries.

He kept the hat on until he was safe inside his parent’s house. His father, Ash, was busy weaving something, but put it aside when he noticed Oak. Oak gathered some ropes and invited him to wander into the woods behind the family grove in hopes to trap an animal to sacrifice. Ash was not about to pass up this opportunity to spend time with his eldest son. They went out, set traps and shared stories of their war bands, family history and then discussed the issues Oak had written home about.
Oak mentioned how odd it was that out in the world he felt older and confident. He also pointed out that around his grandfather, he felt like a child still.
Ash laughed, and replied that he felt that way around his father, too.

In a couple hours, they heard the sounds of a wild boar sharpening her tusks on a nearby tree. The hunt was on. They trapped the animal and brought it back to the family grove.
A place just beyond his parents house that had trees and plants representing his family around the perimeter. His father helped him set up his rite by starting a fire in the central fire pit. Oak painted ritual symbols on his arms, legs, face and torso. Ash helped paint the symbols on Oak’s back before needing to return to make sure Oak’s grandfather’s house was in order.

Oak turned to the tree planted on the day of his birth. His life force remained connected with this Oak tree so, as he has done at other points when he needed to connect with Nature, he called to its spirit. He asked the spirit to join him in his quest to speak with Cernunnos . The elf considered and hoped that linking spirit, earth, plant and animal together would create a strong enough call to be heard by the god.

He placed a headdress with antlers on his head before he called the corners. He tossed some sweet grass mixture on the fire and breathed in the smoke. Oak then invited the elements and spirits to join in his circle. He made dedication of the boar and thanked its spirit for its sacrifice before plunging his knife into the beasts’ heart. The blood spilled onto the ground as the elf chanted. When the boar completely bled out, Oak searched for some sort of acknowledgement that his prayers were heard, but there was nothing.

“Cernunnos, I know rites are not usually performed in your name at this time but I wish to show my dedication and love for you. Please hear my call … I am so afraid of my recent visions … I am scared that I will lose you. I fear that the unbalance caused by a corrupt faith will lead you to have no choice but to abandon your people… and abandon me… Please tell me what I can do to help you. I beg of you to please let me be of assistance and guide me towards a solution.”

Oak begged and pleaded for Cernunnos to speak with him but the call went unanswered… He gave everything he could and it left him emotional and worn. Feeling defeated he ripped the corn necklace off his neck and threw it into the fire pit. He thanked the elements and the spirits before closing his circle. Turning to the house, he heard his family inside. His mother and his brother started to perform a song. He wanted to join them and feel the support of his loving family but did not want to admit that his efforts seemed not to work. He climbed high up into his tree. Cuddled by the tree spirit that shares his life force. he cried himself to sleep listening to his mother sing in the distance.

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Catching Up
Cawdry visits the elves, Mr. Frodo

I had an in-person RP session with Richard to catch Caudraí up, and we ended with C. arriving with some company at Rhiannon’s Pool a day after the party. He asked me to prep for the next session; so here we are

Caudraí listens to the story of his companions’ travel to the Forest, to their battle. Whether he wondered why they did not send word to him to watch out for ambush or not, they did not know, as his face was as smooth as a linen napkin at the Gregory.

He nods at the end of their quick story, looking at the sheathe. Looking back, he nods again.

“Impressive work with the false Knights. With the darkness closing in, everyone who sees the Light is of great value. I think we learned that, Cael, in the Nightwood.”

“Speaking of the Light, these red men who came with me on the road are part of a secret order i’ve not heard of. They carry astonishing skill among them, and a great dedication to some purpose far away. They had some knowledge of my movements and great knowledge of Fallond. I do not wish to trust them, but strangely I do,” he looks away. “Perhaps we are not alone in all of this?”

He bites his lip, comes out of reverie, “Lord John, your commander sends his well-wishings and his greetings. I thought after what I saw in the capital, and what we have been through, that someone in the Church of the Light should be warned of what was happening – someone who would care…. Someone who might pick up our work if we do not succeed.” Caudraí laughs, “He also refused to loan me trebuchets and greek fire without explanation.”

“It seems to me from my own little Progress about the capital that not only is the Capital leadership of the Light’s Church full of persons corrupt, but they also clearly knew precisely who I was – and not in a historical context from our… dealings with Rustin et. al.”

After a settling silence, he looks at Arthur, and his face is full of grief, and the old fear that was on him when he was pretending to be Lucien. “I spoke to Thal, and Peregrinus when I was in Fallond,” he said like that meant something. He cleared his throat and wiped his face.

“I put a few things together, and I do not know it with the proof that I could provide in a mortal court,” he glances at Cael. “Arthur. Cael. St. Tarran was murdered. What you felt was the sword-stroke that cleaved his body collarbone to hip. The only sort of sword that could have made a blow like that is enchanted.” He is clearly thinking of a blood-soaked alley and Ogham emotionlessly stripping his blade of gore.

“With what you said of Lady Bess’ screams, I feel a great movement has begun by the dark. My belief is that Tarran went to rescue Eberolf, and that he fell into a trap, and was murdered by Eberolf’s own blade. I have no basis for this belief, but I think it is what would hurt us most, and so I think it is true.”

In the stunned silence, he sits up and looks at Oak. “It is good to see you again. You look … revived among your people. I wonder if they have any resource to tell us what has become of the Lady Bess?”

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To Fallond and Home
His story according to Oak

I guess I should be writing more about my journey with the 3 knights since someday they will not be around and these stories will be of use for their future offspring (provided they settle down and breed as humans tend to do.)

I am very glad that I was able to obtain a hair from Sir Cawdry while helping him with his armor because it seems he is a bit squeamish when it comes to giving up a drop of blood. Perhaps he holds some sort of fear based on the human stories about sleeping curses associated with the pricking of one’s finger. Since I had the hair, I was able to cast a circle that would not allow any but us within it. If I did not have the hair. Cawdry would have been ejected 18 yards away and would have been stuck outside unprotected. this would not have concerned me normally. He told me weeks ago that he is not a very good fighter and I refused to believe it until he entered a fight and immediately threw away his weapon. You have to admire the courage but battles are not won on courage alone.

I wove bloodstained fabrics and Cawdry’s hair and some broom straws together and let my energy flow into it. This was a powerful circle to cast so close after battle and the energy required for it left me feeling drained. I think I might have passed out from exhaustion almost immediately. Soon afterwards, I seemed to have fallen into Cawdry’s dream , possibly as a result of weaving with his hair. It was a powerful dream that reminded me of the balance that needs to be. I awoke some time later hearing Kal and Arthur debating faith. They seem to be doing this a lot. Kal is struggling … not so much with his faith, he is still a very spiritual man, but in my opinion, he is feeling betrayed by his religious leaders. He’s searching for answers that will give him permission to release the anger and frustration he is feeling.

He questioned the prisoners. They were not receptive to cooperating at first. Then Arthur helped explain the salvation that could await them. My companions used that fake knight of the Brue as an example of how ones soul can find peace… What happened next was one of the most beautiful things I have seen Arthur do.

He drew upon the light to surround the prisoners and as the light washed over them, their very souls were caressed, cleansed and fortified with love. It just smoothed over all the rough and worn edges of their auras. I must admit that even though my faith is of a different path, the pure brilliance of it all brought tears to my eyes. The spirits of the trees near by joyfully whispered to me of how warm the light felt on their leaves. The men now mended of their broken paths, swore oaths to assist in righting the wrongs they took part in despite being fearful that they would be assassinated. Kal swore that they would be protected. They agreed to be witnesses to the wrong doings of many Church of the Light traitors who seem to have infiltrated into the counsel of very high ranking Human nobility.

We then packed up and rode on to find the King and Queen at Fallond. Kal , who seems to be as rich as the dwarves, bought some clothing for the…the… Hrm… I am confused as to what we should call these former prisoners… I guess they are now witnesses. Kal also generously paid for extra horses and travel expenses. He claims that his pockets are not without bottoms… I would think that a bottomless pocket would be more of a hole and not very good for holding one’s wealth. He threw more coin around to be sure that Cawdry’s young charges would be shipped to us at Fallond, along with all my belongings. I can not believe that the knights made me leave my gear behind. I am reminded to not allow for this to happen again. I am quite capable with my weapons but having my formulations would have been helpful. Especially once we got to the city where I hear dwarves used to live.

Upon arrival we settled in and then the knights went to seek out the King and Queen. I stayed behind and protected the witnesses. I really did not like the feeling there at all. All the brick and stone, not much room left for nature. We were saddened to learn that we missed the human royalty. Kal set up a meeting with the Chancellor. We got a meeting …for eight days later.

I set out almost daily shopping for supplies so I can start concocting my potions. The place was just wrong… I had a hard time connecting with my mana. When it became clear that I was not going to be able to get any brewing done, I figured that it would be a good time to give Cawdry some extra weapons training. Naturally not wanting to insult him, I presented it under the guise of lending instruction to Robert the younger on how to master the sword. Lesson one was keeping a good hold on hilt so as not to be easily disarmed and of the importance of not letting someone take away your weapon. Fighter practice with the boys made it easier to draw Cawdry in. It was good to teach them some of the fighting styles the way I learned them. I think Moss would be proud. They boys seemed to really enjoy the practice.

Once the day arrived for our appointment, the knights went to meet the chancellor while I waited with the witnesses outside. The stratagem the knights cleverly thought up was to test the intentions of the chancellor before presenting the witnesses. Since we have found corruption at various turns in our journey, this was an impressive plan. The oath to protect the witnesses was upheld when the Chancellor did not pass Arthur’s test. They mentioned of the attack of the brue as if that was what we wished to report. The boys had our saddles packed and when we left we decided to ride out of the city and towards my home. Cawdry and the boys stayed behind to do a proper reconnoiter of Fallond and the politicos resident there. Human politics are dreadful. Hopefully they will not be too far behind us. I would love for the boys to see some of the festivities of the holiday.

It took everything I had to convince Kal to travel with us to the Rhiannon Pool. He seems to want to run off on his own… Given his emotional state, I am not certain I trust that he will not do something harmful. I am determined to keep an eye on him. I let my seer sight take hold but mislead my own divination by asking of dangers while traveling to my home. It showed me what I believe to be the next few journeys home. They included the reaping around Samhain, a battle during winter and a few other things. I did realize that the first of the visions was about being attacked with armor piercing arrows. I insisted that we needed to stick together and deliver the horn to my homeland. I finally convinced Kal that it was bad strategy to split up. I later remembered the armor piercing arrows and immediately threw on my tree skin protections. Sure enough, just as we entered the forest that I usually protect with my warband, we were attacked.

I pointed out 6 human ranger types hiding on either side of the road. Before I could draw my bow, an arrow struck my hip puncturing my clothing and dangled there like a day old hanged man. Another arrow grazed Kal’s cheek. Quick to react, Arthur immediately cast a spell to draw all the attention of the attackers. They managed to put a small dent in his armor. The four witnesses gave a battle cry and charged after the rangers. Arthur sent a mighty lightning bolt out and stunned one of the archers causing the enemy to lose consciousness. Kal weary from lack of sleep and stress had difficulty with his bow and took time to recover. I combined my alchemy with my bow skills and took out three of the assassins, one at a time leaving them unharmed but out cold. The witnesses chased the remaining two into the woods. Arthur and Kal jumped off their horses and chased them down. Kal managed to strike one of the men down with his bow with a shot landing in the neck. Killing the man almost instantly. He called for the witnesses to run back and assist me, as I was busy tying up the unconscious foes collecting their weapons. Arthur with his mighty speed and strength, swooped down upon the last running bandit. It only took a moment for Arthur to use a maneuver that caused the guy to pass out.

Having a burst of pride at defeating our attackers we took inventory of our new prisoners. We had five, since Kal killed one. Oh…. Wait… The one the Arthur hit with the lighting and rendered unconscious seemed to develop a stab wound in the neck…. Must have been one of the witnesses ensuring our safety. There was a debate as to what to do with the new prisoners. After some discussion and a bit of interrogation, it was decided that the new prisoners would be brought to the Rhiannon pool to be brought to trial for their attack. It is of our opinion that Chancellor of Fallond, sent word to the bailiff of the forest to kill us. We believe that the chancellor may have given false information that the Bailiff was acting on. He in turn hired the human mercenaries to take us out. Feeling that the rangers were only acting on orders, it was determined that they did not act maliciously and should be given fair trial. So the four new sleeping prisoners, four former prisoners turned witnesses, two knights and one elf continued through the forest. Just outside Rhiannon’s pool, a group of elves waved us through and into the place I call home.

Bards, Acrobats, contests of strength and wit were found throughout the center. The perimeter of the festivities are full of make shift shelters and tents… many decorated with strings of Indian corn and severed heads. It has been 8 years since I last attended these festivities. We made our way through the celebration to my Grandfathers grand dwelling. I instantly felt like a child again. I was so nervous about how he would see me, and what he would think of my companions. Within moments of being there he corrected me twice. Once about my misuse use of a word and secondly of my invitation or order to travel with Odin. We told him about our prisoners. His guards took charge of them while he sent a summons for the Bailiff. I guess Grandfather is going to question him about hiring assassins to kill me and the knights. He gave his orders and then turned and performed a very impressive welcoming ritual for the knights while I slipped out. I said that I was going to greet my parents, but took a detour to see about dropping off the horn… I cannot say where… my hiding spot is a sworn secret. The area is too crowded with people wandering in and out at the moment so I guess I will have to hold onto it for a bit longer.

I should stop procrastinating with this writing and greet the rest of my family before dinner. I am home and everything I do is being watched by my family and my people. Soon, I will have to plead the case for my people to get involved in this civil war within the church of light. Honestly, I am overwhelmed and just want to hide but I will have to keep appearing confident. I was chosen to represent the pagans, my people and I must not fail.
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The wind seemed to sing
another special Cawdry dream

The Circularum Auris on the crozier seemed to fade into the background as if in a painting. The prince of the Church’s castle a cobbled monument of stained glass.

He was descending long stairs in a once-grand house that showed now its ruin. A storm raged above the harbor that now is never quiet. The cellar that once held light and the fragrance of cheeses was a tumble of broken boxes and the scurrying of large creatures that wished to be thought of as “only rats”.

The undercellar should have smelled of cork and grape dregs, but the stains on the floor were red and not purple. Something hung wrongly from the candle sconces.

Still down and down they went. First, the stair was claustrophobic, drawing tight as a young man’s scrotum did not long ago looking into a mirror in the ballroom above. Then it opened and opened again and finaly he stood at a ballustrade arched out into darkness. Luminous roots – as of a great tree, or a wysteria large enough to crush castles k- hung down, twisting away at impossible and conflicting angles.

“You imagine,” the wind seemed to sing, “that little trifling of a fairy tale was a nightmare, do you, my little interloper, my little undoer, my little friend?”

Cawdry shivered and tried to reach for a crystal lantern hanging on a post out into the dark. Someone grabbed hold of his shirt ruffle. The ship listed. He fell. Down one of the roots, down a rabbit hole, down a twisted curve between places that was impossible.

There he was. In a vast and personal darkness. Things fluttered in the air full of fangs and filth. The candle was burning down again. It was only two knuckles high. In the distance, he saw several tiny lights. They would be of no use, but if he killed the one holding the light, the creatures would devour them, and leave enough droppings to make a new candle.

He laid one hand on the box, running his fingertips over the name – his name – inscribed on its black surface. he looked up at the place where the darkness was greatest. And there the palest of lights in the outline of a door. inside the box, of course, was everything he had ever been afraid of: trolls, spiders, his aunt Bizarre, sexual inadequacy, swimming, mud, filth and of course… unrelenting darkness. But also the key.

He clenched his fist until the nails bit flesh. Which sin first, what fear would win?


Cawdry gasped, one leg on the balustrade, grasping for the Light.

“Little one, grasping for the Light, you see nothing of the world. These are the roots of Faery, these are the reason for our Seasons and Masquerades!”

A root curled around his wrist, and someone far away seemed to be shouting.

Down he plunged.


He saw it from the center, in all directions. There was a great iron fortress, and inside it dwelled the only light: a being of great puissance and majesty, save for his horns which marked him, and the black hole where a heart once was.

On the plains outside were hovels of diminishing size and increasing squalor. As they marched away from the center toward the seething darkness, each could be seen to glitter faintly with many small pieces of glass and tokens -each in some way a reminder of greater or lesser clairty, of the Bright One in the iron fortress.

The light in the fortress dimmed as many functionaries and toadies of all manner of horrification slowly closed the great iron shutters and gates about the central dais. The wall of darkness seethed and hissed and inched closer. The little lights gleamed, remembering the Bright One and his Great Flaw.

Denizens scrambled for cover, for talismans, for light, or protective anonymity or unique darkness. On and on the wall came. If it caught anyone in its seething embrace … off they went, never to be seen again except perhaps by a loved one who might at some time see their face inside the wall. The shutters kept creaking, the fearful hid. The largest, armed with many talismans that held back the Wall came forward.

They chose the tenderest among them. They grunted and squealed and raced and hunted. Eventually, they ripped him apart and threw him into the seething darkness that caught the bloody pieces like a greedy hog.

And then…

and then…

the creaking reversed. The Radiant One, the Light Bearer gave praise to his people, and the light returned to the land….


Gasping, Cawdry pulled himself back against the wall, seething bits of living Darkness burning off of him in the crystal light of the lantern that had once been a man hoping for an acting career in the city of Lyon. His hopes made a safe place to look at where the roots of Faery fed upon the Dark.

The earth seemed to crack open, or the fourth wall fell away in a silent peal of light.

THIS ONE DOES NOT BELONG TO YOU came the bell of the clear voice.

“Oh, fine,” the wind seemed to sing, making the lantern dance as the man whose name was gone now once had – gently, serenely, and with astonishing loveliness, “have it your way.”

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Little orphan Rammy

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They Killed my daddy… Now who is gonna finish readin my story “Ramsella and the way station of evil”?

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A Prelude
Talebois goes off to a very important job

The black robe was thick hemp – warm when needed; cool when not. The dark runners of silk layered cunningly into it gave it a weight suitable for his nature and purposes. That it also made it move a little delayed from his own motions in a disturbingly liquid patter was – well – just fine too.

He replaced all the apple dolls from which he had drawn extra power, lining them up on their shelves here in the basement just as they should be: first by nature (apple dolls, then apricot pit dolls, then the ones made so soft from sows ears).

He looked into the plate he had taken from his mother’s cupboard – the pale one with the traceries that made his dark hair seem to gleam with dark intelligence – back over the closed cupboard, and took a moment to pomade his hair and push it all back into place. He pinched his cheeks to bring up color and accentuate the pallor of his good Lowland complexion.

He tapped the table – three times – as he always did. With his other hand he Kissed by, twice, as the nervousness ran through his mind like a shiver down the dog. He had to get this right. He had to get it all right! The stupid knight had been stupid and gotten caught. The stupid goats were going to die..The stupid knights had gotten warned by the imp and turned their stupid selves around. That stupid little do-gooder was here again!

WHY! WHY!?

A thin voice, but the kind that cuts through locked basement doors and around corners and into his mind like the taste of tin in the mouth came, “Emmie? Mon petit? Emmie? Come up out of there with your dolls! Mumsy had made you your favorite shepherd’s pie! Her son has a big day ahead of him, and…”

His mother was the only one who understood him.

When he was back. After he made a god serve him, after he had brought all the stupid little people to heel, he would make his mother queen.

“Come on now, my little dumpling!” she sang, “Emmzie needs good food in his tummy to do good work!”

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Dear Pa and Ma
The letter Arthur transcribed for Oak ***
  • This is the letter Oak rambled for Arthur to write while he was getting patched up. It was sent off as we were leaving. Oak was kinda out of it and yes he rambled stuff about all of you even though you were right there. (The misspelling of names would not happen with Arthur writing this so ignore that part… Oak misspells the names when he writes).

My dearest Pa and Ma,
I realize that you might have noticed from my tree that I have recently been in a battle. Rest assured that I fought well and although having been struck with an arrow in my chest, it missed my heart. I kept true to my oath and continued to fight. My traveling companions and I were victorious. The battle was against 12 Brue. They are big hairy creatures with heads like a rams and an unbearable stench. They were attempting to enslave residents of the area after they desecrated a place of worship as well as a sacred burial ground. They killed many people and captured other kind folks to feast on. They did all this under the direction of a human man pretending to be a knight. This false knight tried to poison us and almost succeeded had it not been for Sir Kal and Sir Cawdry not partaking in the feast. That brings me to a painful truth.
Pa, I have a confession to make. I have not been my best, I have been drinking too heavily in the taverns and feasting halls. Sir Cawdry, mentioned his concern after the third time in a week, I drank till I had to be put to bed. I am ashamed that I have let my loneliness and being homesick lead to a behavior that caused concern from my companions. I swore to limit myself but after being poisoned, I realize how dangerous things are getting. I need to keep myself focused and my mind sharp. I have decided to forgo consuming the fermented nectars, mead and ale until I return to the Rhiannon Pool and get to share stories with my loved ones.
Back to the false knight, I was warned by Arthur Miller that this imposter seemed to have evil intentions. Sir Cawdry asked me to fetch drinks. I thought it odd at first but decided it would give me an opportunity to slip a potion into the evil man’s drink that would allow me to question his true motives. We found out a lot of information that I will not relay here in case this letter is intercepted. I can tell you that the man had to die. Knowing all the murders and crimes he committed, I was glad that we were sending him to the gods for judgment. I relished in the thought of him being punished in his afterlife. My companions were better men than I in that moment. They forgave him of his sins and blessed him… We watched his spirit being brought into the light. I do not understand that by the logic of the light, they can commit crimes against man and nature right up to the time of death. At that moment they can be blessed and forgiven and are rewarded in some idea of an afterlife.
My wound is being tended to but I am thinking I might actually scar. The wound was deep. I can already hear Grandfather’s disapproval of my potential flaw. It really is too soon to tell and I have too much work to get done to properly spend the time to heal. This was the first time in battle with these three knight… Oh yes, I guess Arthur is also a knight, he just does not use his title as Cawdry and Kal do. Based on how things worked out, it is clear that I am starting to bond with the humans. However, I pray to the gods that I will be able to return home for Lughnassadh. Who knows maybe they will venture with me. They do seem to be feeling the effects of the dying of the light.
Love to everyone, Your eldest, Oak

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Mistakes were made

So, despite knowing that a stack of our enemies had made their base in the chapel, drawing on all of my tactical knowledge, I decided that it was a good idea to casually open the front door, unarmored and unprepared.

It is fortunate that my armorskin enchantment was still active, as I was utterly surprised when I opened the door and was confronted with one of the Brue. While I fumbled for my weapons, it leapt up and struck me a blow that may have disemboweled me, were it not for this enchantment.

Oak ran out to enact the circle of protection that we had considered the night before.

Despite my opponent being unarmored, I eschewed a slashing attack and instead opted for the inferior maneuver of stabbing the creature.

The stench of their evil was oppressive, but I failed to warn Oak of this upon his return, and he was overpowered.

Since he had completed his protective circle, I thought it okay to toss my swords to the ground and carry him away from the door. Instead of taking a 90 degree angle from the doorway, which would have removed us from the sight of our enemies, I walked straight out. Then, I set Oak on his feet, where he made a perfect target for the archer that I had not noticed in the chapel. Dazed, he was unable to defend himself from the cruel arrow.

Now realizing my mistake, I ran back towards the chapel. I had left my bow with the rest of my gear, but I did still have my magickal implements. Fearing that Oak might not be in any shape to protect himself, I attempted to use flashy magick to draw the fire of our enemies. I figured that if I could just close the chapel door, the circle would protect us.

Sigh … yet another mistake. I know how this spell works, but in my haste, I failed to take into account the fact that the circle was finished outside the chapel, leaving the door within the grasp of the Brue. Upon closing the door, I turned my back, thinking we had time to recover. When the door was flung back open, I was nearly driven to my knees.

Fortunately, Oak was okay, and he was able to light the chapel on fire. The evil Brue, trapped within, were consigned to perdition.

We are lucky that Oak will recover from his injury and that my wound was minor.

I will have to do better next time.

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A lot of grattitude
From a little elf

While being patched up, I thought I would mention how thrilling it was to fight by Arthur Miller’s side. He not only thought swiftly and managed to instantly slay one of those beasts, but when I was overpowered by the sickness their stench caused me, He got me to a distance where I could recover. Then when I was pierced with this arrow, he got between myself and the other Bru Beasts to protect me while slaying yet another beast. He used his weapons and his magic to turn around what could have been a deadly outcome for us.

The way he ran towards creatures that far outnumbered him, reminded me of being back with my war band. He looked out for me and fought bravely in a way much like my Fianna brothers.

I must admit, I’m embarrassed that I’ve been wounded in battle. This wound will scar. Normally, I would be thinking about removing such a thing as it will become a permanent flaw… However, I think I may keep the scar as a memorial of this day… A day I had the honor of slaying evil beasts with Arthur Miller.

Immediately after my wound is tended, we need to go after the knights. We can not let them get away. I need to sleep badly since the battle has left me drained, but will do so on the horse, I just wont be able to take point.

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A Cawdry Nightmare
Gifts of an Old Friend

The sheets are softest silk and slide off the bed as Caudrai stretches slowly into full sitting.
The drapes are the richest maroon and shroud the bed.
The chill in the air declares it is not for no reason.

He takes off the poofy nightcap and stares at it, with its cloth-of-gold bangles.

The curtains are thrown apart. Light stabs in.
A swarm of servants pull him from the bed, whipping his hair back, assaulting him with cold water, dressing, makeup, tunic, chasuble. Huge hat.

A staff is thrust into his hand. He is bustled down corridors. Everyone seems to be speaking a strange southern tongue.

Massive doors inlaid with gold burst open before him. It is a circular throne room filled with light bursting in through colored glass. The air is quickly warming. He is urged up to a throne.

As he turns on the dais, he makes out the chamber is ringed in a thick band of real gold.
His gorge rises in terror. All that escapes is, “What -- !?”

A beautiful matron in a stately gown emerges from behind the throne with the Golden Sigil and the Great Orb of the Patriarch of the First Parish of the Light on a velvet pillow.

“I so know how you love to fix problems, so,” says Lady Bizarre hanging the auric circle around his neck. Great. Another torque. “I decided you should be Pope. Surely it won’t be any problem at all for you to fix everything!”

Her laughter tinkles as she dissolves into butterflies and Arthur and Cael open the outer doors to admit the angry mob.

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