Of Erenion Adanedhel

Erenion-Adanedhel´s saga,
Of Erenion Adanedhel,


The following is an exert from “Quenta Telperrion”, the gathered works of many scholars, mostly Elven, dealing with the history of Noroma.

In the Time that followed Erenion grew high in the favour of the Elves, and well-nigh all hearts were turned to him there. For he was young, and only now reached his full manhood; and he was in truth the son of Marayel Eledhwen to look upon: dark-haired and pale-skinned, with grey eyes, and his face more beautiful than any other amongst mortal men since the elder days. His speech and bearing were that of the ancient kingdom of Lagon, and even among Elves he might be taken for one from the great houses of the Noldor, therefore many joined in calling him Adanedhel, the Elf-Man. Furthermore, He wielded his dread sword, Gurthang, with such prowess and skill in warfare on the confines of the realms that he also became known as Mormegil, the black sword. But a doom was upon him, and the sorrow of his house had hardened him, grim and fell he seemed, yet still noble and tall like no man before him.
He became mighty among the Elves, but he had no liking for their manner of warfare, of ambush, and stealth and secret arrow, or even magic, and he yearned for brave strokes and battle in the open.
So forth he went to do war upon the enemy with only a few friends, and his renown grew, and reached the ears of all the mighty- but none knew his name, rumour spoke only of Adanedhel Mormegil, great amongst Men and Elves.

Adanadhel was born on a small sheep farm in Iltharn in the Great Eredian Mountains, (northwest of Eros village by about 7 miles, and north of Lake Eros by about 3 miles) and lived in hiding with his parents Garrand and Marayel until the age of 6. This was because the Czarn Anjon Ilrak held the population of Iltharn (including Garrand and Marayel ) in thrall by means of slave bands around the necks. These bands gave intense pain at the command of a Kerikos or at the attempt to cross the borders of Iltharn. The Kerikos were a religious group, made up of the Kerikahad (warriors and fanatics), the Kerimagin (magicians and druids)and the Kerikonomi (politicians) who worshipped the Standing Stones, which each village in Iltharn was built around.

Due to the distance from other folk and the cleverness of his parents, Adanadhel was carried and born in secret and had not been imprisoned with a slave band. In his 6th year, however, the family was having more and more trouble with the goblins of Ranos (desert edge, forest and hills to the west, 7 miles away) and other folk in the area had called on the troops of the Kerikahad to kill the goblins. Adanadhel’s father Garrand and many of the other local men were forcibly conscripted into the army to fight the goblins, and the increased attention on people in that area made it impossible to hide Adanadhel any longer.
Garrand had, after a skirmish with some of the goblins, freed two elves Camirel Celleshandril and Cymial Athulain, who swore to save two lives or give two great boons in return. Garrand persuaded them to take Adanadhel away with them and care for him until he was strong enough to join in the rebellion of Ambrose against the Kerikos. Adanadhel was forbidden to come back to Iltharn until Garrand sent word and his sword as token of the rebellion about to start.
Shortly after they left, Marayel discovered she was pregnant , and later gave birth to a daughter: Maia. This was, unfortunately, found out too soon before arrangements could be made to smuggle her out to join Adanadhel, and she was also slave banded.

Adanadhel lived in Lagon from the age of 6 till 22 in the care of all the elves there, but mostly the two male elves; Camirel Celleshandril and Cymial Athulain.

Camirel Celleshandril is mostly a scribe and copies a lot of books for the Elven Library, but the rest of the time he would charge about the forest on horseback with his friends or be involved in weapons training. He is a superb shot with a longbow. He is pale blond haired, pale skinned and very tall and slender, but very fast. His family are quite close to him; his father Amiriel Celleshandril is a weaponsmith and his mother Calla Tiael is a respected mage of the Mages guild of Lagon. Camirel has an uncle Semiel, who is an expert mushroom grower and an uncle Amishel who is a wine maker and a fantastic harp musician- he plays for the queen! Camirel’s grandparents are Semariel , a druid and Amithielle Tiael, a (female) singer and messenger. Lorasemar, his great grandfather, -a warrior and armourer- he doesn’t see very much, because they argue all the time, which upsets Camirel. It was Lorasemar who made Adanadhel’s (and all the rest of the family’s) armour.

Cymial Athulain is even more gung-ho than Camirel and much more unreliable. He does not seem to have any means of support when he is home, other than numerous girlfriends and family (his Aunt Astralle, a mage, and her daughter-his cousin- Brosalle; his Grandfather Astrallos and Grandmother Gwynalle. His mother was Kuraliel Cymell and his father was Gwalos Athulain, they are both dead now; brave warriors killed in the great war in ‘62) whom he scrounged outrageously from. Luckily he has loads of grace, charm and etiquette, which means he got away with it most of the time. He is in fact a scout for the Lagon elves but does his best not to be around when difficult jobs are in the offing. He is dark blond haired and shorter of stature, but quite fit and strong, and very good with a sword. Two years ago, Cymial left his pregnant goat herder partner Shironalle Celleshandril (Camirel’s cousin) and went off chasing a rather beautiful female minstrel who passed through Lagon on her way north. None know her name nor where she went, but Cymial has not been seen or heard from since.

Camirel Celleshandril has for the last two years been together with Cerine Elvallin, a slim platinum-blonde who lives at the edge of the lake in Lagon. She is mostly a hunter gatherer and wine maker, but does a reasonable amount of fishing too. She owns one small fishing boat and one rowing boat. Cerine and Camirel’s son was born on 7/8/66, and is named Nerinel Celleshandril. Camirel is rather busy with his new son, and has sent Adanadhel away to the Dark Forest to live with Cerine Elvallin and Dolrannel Athulain’s son Malbr’o’sac Athulain, for the time being. The idea is to learn from him and to help the Dark Forest with its Goblin problem. Maybe also he will hear news of Cymial up there. Malbr’o’sac has also been to Iltharn, and could be a bearer of news.



The last week or so has been distressing, it started out all-right on the 26.Th with us going into the, now deserted, Goblincave under Gowr hill. Or rather me going in with a magic shield, finding dead Goblins, and Wargs, some had been healed of their wounds, and all had been killed by fresh wounds delivered by their comrades-not us, and then them waking up when touched, and shambling towards me to attack. I made a tactical withdrawal to the entrance, wanting to cut them down as they emerged, unfortunately I could not exit myself , and had to confront them...I gleefully obliged their wish and started cutting them to pieces (I can actually cut a Goblin in two...), while Darlin and Farquillan slowed them with arrows (the fools refused to hand me my oillamp to burn the monsters with-we still need to discuss that...) I was enjoying myself, laying about me with my sword, when Mal´br´osac or Edric, a fellow traveller with a tendency to talk to animals, and blabbering about some ash-tree being god, apart from those traits a nice enough person with a troublemaking wife, zapped the zombies with a lightning, leading to me being deaf for two hours. The remainder of the cave was empty. We went home to celebrate our victory, Edric, and Mal proceeded to get very drunk, suggesting to use me as bait for Harpies ( I promptly put an end to that), and started a lightningstorm to attract the attention of some woman (lecherous bastards-I put an end to that at the same time that I stopped their dirty, and cowardly suggestions about me-by slamming them into a tree, putting them to (muchneeded) sleep). Next morning I awoke Mal´ the usual way, by throwing him into a stream, and as his hangover subsided, he started hunting for a gift for the girl (he was probably embarrassed by her witnessing me slamming him into trees to sober him). We found her, and she succeeded in making him work honestly for a month, I am looking very much forward to witness that. It was all very complicated, and quite distressing, as all I wanted to do was get on to killing some Ogres. It seems that my fool friends are more interested in chasing women, than fighting evil-fools, it is not kind to gift anyone with a widows veil, and death is bound to catch up with us sooner rather than later.
By the way, I have been trying, in vain, to catch a brown trout all week-quite embarrassing, as both Darlin, and Farquillan has borrowed my gear and caught several. Darlin actually broke the forest-record with an
11-pounder.

3/8-1067. While Mal´, and I visited with some knightly order to obtain spell components (well it took us some time to set out, as Mal´ had some problems with the control of his horse), Farquillan and Te`Ekan, a fellow scout with a talent for drumming (annoying habit, as he tends to rehearse when sneaking up on Ogres), went to Amrill to question an old hermit, who was suspected of cooperating with the wicked ones. He proved very useful, drawing a map of the general area, and supplied other useful information.
Mal´ finally obtained leave to borrow some bits of Ogre by promising to serve as a squire for a month, it appears as if he owes the world service-it might help him in his quest for knighthood though. We met again at the (in)famous inn, "The Inn With No Name", compared notes, made some special optical sights, prevailed upon the Dwarves we were going to protect (use as bait) to pay us in advance, in wine, and some got a bit drunk. The Dwarves’ carousing, and lack of rooms led to us spending the night at another inn, the aptly named, "Goblin´s Head". We were awoken at dawn by a serving maid, who came to clean our room very early for some obscure reason, I am not sure that she was entirely normal (in fact she was uncommonly pretty ), she kept wanting to sweep the floor beneath my feet-even when I moved to a place that she had already finished-very strange girl. But then again, my Elven compatriots was all over her, so it is perhaps understandable that she acted a bit weird. When she had finally finished cleaning, she was replaced by another, even prettier, maiden, who could have been an elf. My friends consequently went amok, trying to impress her with stories of how we were heroes on a secret mission. Whatever they tried to accomplish, they failed-she actually appeared to be embarrassed by all this attention, whenever I looked she blushed and looked away. Anyway I coerced them to start on our task , except of course Mal´, who had hatched some wild plan about taking birdsform, and scout ahead. This would give him two-three hours more to try to impress the girls, fool .














4/8-1067." The hour of truth",
As we proceeded we understood from Mal´s squawking that he had discovered one Ogre sentinel, and as we sneaked up, another joined it on the ambush site. This is where we (I) made our first mistake, I veered off to the left to protect our flank as the Elven archers crawled nearer. It started out alright; as the Dwarves approached, the looming thunderstorm struck with dense hail and high winds. Mal´ spotted our old Goblin f(r)iends from Gowr Hill, the archers started shooting, and Mal´ hit them hard-a tremendous blast, and a blinding flash as if all the thunderbolts in the world had struck in the cleft, silhouetted an Ogre, clutching its eye, where Farquillan had put an arrow with a shot that will go down in legends for as long as Elves dance in forest glades; while the light flashed, off it fell as if in slow-motion -dead. I was later to learn that Mal´ had "frizzed" the Goblins instead of the Ogres down there, with whom he was now engaged in magical combat; this was our second mistake, I consider that the Ogres were much more dangerous, and therefore had to be hit first-whatever his honour bade him, others´ lives depended on him taking out the Ogres, and leaving the Goblins to the Dwarves. From then on our plan evaporated, one Ogre teleported, and hit the archers in the back (invisible of course), while another engaged Mal´ in a magic battle that would ultimately prove fatal to it. Upon hearing my friends´ frenzied screams for help, I rushed to their rescue-wrong move sucker!-a hitherto undiscovered or teleported Ogre hit me from afar with a lightning-bolt in the back. From then on I do not entirely remember what happened, as I went into some sort of void, where feelings floated outside. I have never experienced anything like it, and must discuss it with my magic-wielding friends.

Here we have to make a small break in the saga of our hero, as someone (read the Gamemaster) has abducted the original.







































6. Urime. I returned from "The Knights Of Ni!" to my friends in Amrill. They were meeting with a dwarf named Rollo, who was generous enough to by us a drink -one drink, thanks for nothing!. Afterwards we went back to Darkforest, where things started to deteriorate (nothing new in that....). Mal´ was promptly put to work around his girlfriend´s dwelling, while she went to do some "womanish" thing, and enjoy herself. I went to get a bath (after a pointed hint from Farquillan-he had no reason to talk though...), as did Tara, she seemed to be a bit vexed that Mal´ announced her intentions very loudly, and consequently made male Elves drop from trees to warm her pond. I was fortunate enough to find one that was still lukewarm, and even though I feared that I was perhaps getting a bit soft, I used the opportunity, as I did not want to take the time to find a cold one. Then Farquillan, Edric, a very upset Tara (when she got rid of Mustapha, who did not even notice that I nicked some of his brandy), and I, proceeded to get plastered, went to rescue Mal´,and suddenly lost Farquillan, and Edric to some sleep-spell. I had lots of fun, finding the Void when drunk is very hard, but leads to a very peculiar feeling when succeeding. We ran out of brandy, so I hauled Farquillan to his legs again, and we (he and I) , supported by Mal´, staggered towards Queen Melrianna´s treehouse to involve Azeax in our celebration (,"borrow" some more liquor), and get the two nice Elven magicusers as drunk as Farquillan (I, of course was only mildly influenced). Oh yes, I must not forget; I have now got a squeeze on my friend Mal´, he promised to provide Tara with an undisturbed, hot bath, and did some spellwork, by his facial expression I gathered that something went awry-or perhaps not ?....,it provided us with an interesting spectacle though, something like "now you see her-now you don't-now you...etc. etc.. I would have thought that sort of show more worthy of imposters doing village-fair "magic", but we got confirmation that she is indeed a very pretty girl, actually I would label her more than pretty -beautiful is more like it. As she got up and thanked Mal´, even I had a hard time keeping up appearances, Farquillan was, luckily, happily asleep at that time.
I sort of remember the Queen being a bit upset with us about something, but it is about here that my memory slips, I know (my friends told me) that I was behaving very embarrassingly for some hours before finally passing out, but the only thing I can recall is a giggling werewolf chaining me to a mountainside, torturing, and taunting me (mainly by giggling like mad, thereby inflicting a long-lasting pain in my internals and head-ooooooooh it hurts), perhaps an ill omen.........
I awoke soaked by rain, and with the terrible pain still lasting (curse that werewolf -it will perhaps be a while ´till I drink that much again), and accepted one of Queen Melrianna´s hangover cures from Mal´ in good faith, I will not do that again. It felt very good but I got this terrible urge to go do some honest work, I tried in vain to stop Farquillan from drinking his while Mal´ slipped away (I will get him for that). I located my backpack, as all I could find when I awoke, was my sword, and while I got into some dry clothing a dry, rested Tara turned up resolved that I was going to provide entertainment for the day (, and, as fair is fair, I only tried to cover myself for a short time-I did not remember closing my eyes as I should have when she bathed), actually she was disgustedly fresh, and, not having imbibed the quantities others did last night, not having a hangover or working fit either. So, as Farquillan ran off to help his sister dye some clothing, I readied my fishing equipment determined that I would succeed today, and stuff a few Elven mouths with brown trout, all the while enjoying myself, besides I have never heard of a woman who would endure an entire day watching a guy fishing. Consequently, I caught a lot of fish, gave away one of Semariel´s irreplaceable rapala-wobblers -now that was a stupid move, but the poor lad did not catch a thing, and enjoyed the relaxation, and oneness with nature, of fishing. Tara turned out to be very pleasant company, as she did not say much or otherwise disturb me, but mainly watched my "meditation", I have greatly underestimated her, believing her incapable of such a thing -I am gratuitous though. After hauling in enough fish (always work to maintain the balance), we gave them to a hardworking Mal´ for cleaning, he disappointed my anticipated pleasure of watching him clean them by "wiggling his fingers"), and went to do some workout, and swordplay. It turned out that I had found myself a very skilled opponent, she seemed very good at not being where my sword impacted, and soon learned to dodge-not parry my blows. It was all very pleasant. When she grew tired, she is apparently not as fit as me, we bathed, separately of course, and sought out Mal´ again, where all of us (apart from Edric, who was still sleeping it off) spent a pleasant evening enjoying Mal´s cooking, and wine- nice.
The following day I settled into my normal leisurely routine which is; running 10 miles, workout for one hour, sword training in chainmail for one hour, without for another, meditating to relax for 1/2 an hour, and swimming/bathing for as long as I have time. Then I went fishing again, and caught a strange evil-looking black eel, which was determined to be a Black Riverserpent by (supposedly) wise Elves. We determined that they were put there by our old acquaintances, the Goblins under Gowr hill as retaliation for the Elves cutting of their supply of fish. Naturally we then mounted a campaign to exterminate them, and were quite successful.
When, on the twelfth, we had finished our tedious task, Sayah showed up with her new-born son, we then spent a pleasant evening discussing a name for the infant. She finally decided upon my proporsition, "Beren" after my distant kinsman of legend. Does this mean that I am his godfather???, and responsible for him being raised in a true and virtuous way??
On the thirteenth, the weather did not greatly favour Mal´s planned "operation Megasquawk", so we put it off until the fourteenth.....




14. Urime
"Operation megasquawk",
We launched our air offensive against the goblins, "Operation Megasquawk", on the fourteenth, which, I propose, should from now on be known as "Adlertag". The result, 20 Harpies dead, 9 Goblins dead, one wounded, and they did not even know what hit them- great, this is a decisive victory. Unfortunately we only wounded their leader, and Farquillan got severely injured.
The battle went as follows ; The Harpies got blasted by elven magic-users, while we started stalking their groundcrew, unfortunately they perceived us, abandoned their burdens of deer carcasses, and speeded up. We; Tara, Farquillan, two wargs, and I, followed, looking for an opportunity for an attack from an advantageous position, there were none. So, we attacked them as we deemed that they were approaching their "home turf", and reinforcements. They moved in two groups of three, covering front, and back, and two of two, covering the flanks, all supporting, and covering each other. We decided to hit them from the right, Tara, and Farquillan showering their right, and back groups with arrows. From the left, the wargs attacking their left group, occupying them while I moved in to slay the remaining survivors. We had an idea that Mal` was somewhere about in some form or other, but as usual we were unable to communicate with him, we reckoned that we had magical coverage though. Our enemies were Goblins who seemed nastier than average, and had a distinctive spiked crest as their single hairstyle. We guessed that they were "Red Eye Goblins" from Iltharn, and labelled them "Punk-Goblins" ( furthermore I decided that none of them would survive our meeting if I had a say- they are the arch-enemies of my people, well one of several, so my soft-hearted Elven friends would get no say over prisoners ). So, I charged while the archers fired, and the wargs crept nearer. The Goblins reacted with a fighting retreat, with the front group legging it while the others tried to beat us back to get breathing-, and retreating-space. Though Farquillan shot with his usual accuracy, he himself got hit with poisoned arrows, and Tara got caught in a web spell ( a like one did not even slow me- guess that she should have joined my workout-pogram after all ), but as Farquillan’s arrows, and Mal´s unexpected "tactical magic" wore them down , they retreated ( got routed ). Our main problem was that the wargs got beaten back by the Goblins´ leader, and that I never really joined the fray as they fled before my wrath- we need to devise a means by which I can get faster into melee, where few can withstand me. Mal` has been talking about putting a haste, or teleport spell on my sword, this might have proved the difference between the leader getting away or not. As it was, I only got into contact with three, more or less wounded, whom I easily disposed of. All told we, mainly Mal`, killed nine of them before they were rescued by 40 wargriders, who made us beat a quick retreat "to get Farquillan under treatment".
15/8, We bimbled around a bit ( more ), agreed to my "final solution", and enlisted the help of "The Knights who say Ni!" ( where do I get that from ? it keeps propping up ). They reckon that it would be better to let Mal` ( as he seems to know everyone ) approach the local lord, while the Elven authorities lobby at court. This way we would avoid the problems of a Baron waging war on another´s territory, that would appear as land-grabbing. Furthermore the King wants his non-human subjects happy, and would like to further trade, so he would probably support our war of genocide. Mal` does not like that idea, as it will give foreigners ( read humans ) access to, and influence on, land the Elves want, but it also appears as if they are too cowardly to risk casualties by doing it themselves. It seems to me as if they want the cake, but do not want the tedious task of baking it. By the way, we threw another party (as we are at the Elven "bimble-factor") as Mal` had found, and imbibed, some interesting mushrooms. I lobbed him into a pond, as I was going to take a bath anyway, he promptly shapeshifted into a huge backward swimming pike, I caught him, he flapped in again, and I decided to ignore him. Daimon (strange name) Sayahsson, who had followed us, started to play with my sword, and in no time had it stuck in a bush. Farquillan refused to help him, probably being aware of my feelings regarding others touching my sword, so I had to get up myself ( it could have been a conspiracy). Hidden Elven maids giggled, and- surprise ! Sayah, and Aithne turned up (it was a conspiracy). Giving me strange looks, they demanded that I catch Mal` immediately, and without hurting him . I tried, failed, and Farquillan, who had just recovered from a laughing fit, started rolling around on the ground, howling with glee, again. He too got in, but we only managed to catch Mal` when he reverted to Elven form, and started drowning. They gave him some potion, and as I was nearly reduced to begging state with embarrassment, left us. I got up, and a previously hidden Elven maid handed me a towel- this is definitely not my day. Being throughroughly humiliated, I decided to get drunk, and try to forget this day. I got drunk but was still grumpy, and so treated a friendly half-elven girl gruffly- I must apologise to her, I am, mostly, courteous, but as I mentioned, this was not my day. When the Elves started experimenting with drugs, and each other, I turned in, one of the last things I consciously remember is Mustapha licking a tree- iiiydks.








20/10. My friend, and brother Malbr`o`Sac almost killed me last week, I came out alright though, but let’s tarry no further, and get on with the story.
As Mal` did some magical research for my sword, I bimbled around doing chores for him, Farquillan, and just about everyone else. After five weeks of this, Mal` announced that the sword was finished, and tried to use it in training with Tara, who for some inexplicable reason keeps hanging around- we are not that interesting, but I do not think she is a spy...??? It did not work very well, even though Mal` had gone as far as to deal with a Dragon for magical ingredients for the spell. I got exhausted almost before we started, and while Tara started massaging my aching back, Mal` stalked of muttering about life-force. After another week, in which I stuffed his larder with smoked trout, Mal` turned up again, claiming that the sword would now drain my opponents of strength to feed its wielder. Tara refused to be some sort of pig ??, wonder what that mean, she does not look like a pig, and even Farquillan behaves more like one ???- well, in any case, she did not want to participate in our experiment, so of we went to see Masaru, who, according to Mal`, had life-force enough to feed many spells. I looked forward to meeting him with a great deal of expectation, as I had heard a lot about him. He turned out to be a nice enough fellow when you got behind the over-polite surface- up until that point he was actually too nice and polite. He was also a very good fighter, bettering me even when using only one of his two swords, mostly he was very adept at anticipating where my blow would land, and moving away from there. Furthermore he was also very calm, and a great fisherman. The sword worked as hoped- almost, when I started tiring it drew upon something in him to feed me, unfortunately my body-temperature started rising a bit more than is usual when fighting, I continued, though, and soon collapsed. We later worked out that it was feeding me to the extent of raising my body-temperature, and eventually almost killed me by burning out my system, and frying my brain (though Mal` claims that would not harm me, as there is very little to fry). Luckily for me a very pretty local witch was in the vicinity, and saved my life- nice of her, and severely scolding Mal` for endangering my life- what a nice girl, he he, "poor" Mal`. I am indebted to her, and Masaru, with whom I had to spend a week recuperating, both. Meanwhile Mal`, with the help of Edric, who has, according to Mal`, had the nicest little daughter- we are not entirely certain what her name is going to be yet, they cannot seem to agree upon it, fixed my sword. It will now work as intended, and if overcharging the wielder, it will absorb the heat itself. Spreading the force in the surroundings, and eventually start to flame (I wonder if it will also go soft, and lose its tempering ?). Furthermore, if overcharged with force itself, it will fire lightning-bolts, and burn out- This is of course, if I understand Mal´s lengthy explanation right... When I am through with writing in a few seconds, I must remember to send Masaru´s son my spare fishing equipment, we spent a lot of time fishing together while I regained strength- nice boy, and very polite.
V= Victory,
We have beaten the Goblins.........
Our scouts reported that the Goblins were fleeing westwards after our campaign against their food supply- codenamed "The Final Solution", moving from one prepared fortress to another each night. Naturally, we could not let such an opportunity to hit them pass, so we decided to teleport one ton- Yes one ton !, of burning sulphur to an area above the fortress they would be in at the appropriate time. What a nasty way to expire. It took a lot of spellwork by Mal`, Azeax, plus Zed, and Ted, two brownie twins, but we succeeded, and subsequently beat feet. As we retreated, 20 invisible Wargriders, and a corresponding number of Harpies in the same state, hit us, and we- Mustapha´s scouts, -without their glorious leader- Tara, and I, on the ground, and the magic-users in the air- had a tremendous clash with them. Te`Eka went down on contact, so my battle was primarily to reach, and rescue him. In this, I was hindered by six to eight "nasties", of whom I felled five, unfortunately, I too went down with a spear in my right lung, and one through the neck. Meanwhile our magicusers blasted gleefully away at the harpies, of which only 2 escaped, both wounded, we have obliterated their airforce. Mal` showed extreme courage, when running out of spellpower, he attacked Harpies, and Goblins in his Osprey-form. All told, it took about 30-60 seconds, but both we, and, especially they ( no Goblin was left alive) were in a bad shape, so we healed up a bit, and retreated further to make a camp, and care for the wounded (me, and Te`Eka mostly).Here the Brownies performed surgery on me- it is quite nice no longer to cough up chainmail links, but I guess that I will still need a bit of rest.
We rested, healed up, and got involved in a quite heated discussion concerning the remaining Goblins in Harpy woods (we should probably find a new name for that- people might get the wrong impression).
I was, initially at least, mostly minded to kill them all, preferably with my own hands. But my soft-hearted Elven friends opposed me, talking about humanoid rights, sentient beings, and such shit. Spouting drivel about how Goblin social misfits being our possible allies, while I continued to claim that the only good Goblin is a dead one. One of the infamous "Gatherings" were held, and Mal` E.S.P.-ed some of them. It appeared as if we were both right, most of them thought only of torturing, killing etc., but some were indeed true Goblin misfits, who did not torture children, wargs, plants, etc.. These were kept alive, and placed in "Re-education camps"- ups, sorry, I meant reservations......
The Brownies, and those Elves who were not fed up with them moved into "Brownie Woods" ???, my chainmail was mended, I acquired two white, and three black silk shirts, left a letter for Rhiannon (the Half-elven girl I treated rudely a while back), and we left for Lagon.


29/10. We quickly reached Tic with no particular hardships, and when leaving it, encountered a little boy, who was hurt, weeping, and very dirty. It probably did not help him that Mal` let Snuffles lick him, I base this assumption on the fact that he scrambled off in a panic, we quickly decided that we should let Farquillan, who, on Whirlwind (Mal´s horse), was not particularly intimidating, catch him- he did, and even calmed him.
He gave us some information about his orphanage that sent us on a wild goose chase. It appeared as if the master of this ...school ?.., was abusing the boy, this made us deposit the boy in Lord Raith´s safe hands, and go investigating. We unearthed the fact that it was another "Master".. teacher ?.. who was slandering the headmaster, but also found word of some monster in the forest.We discovered what beastie was hunting in the forest, it was a lioness-eagle crossbreed, which flew very clumsily. This worried Mal´ a little as such a thing should not be able to exist, I must admit that even if my own theory about a shape-changer (presumably the schoolmaster, Lord De Lomain) was involved, it would not be too hard to exterminate him. We reported our findings to Lord Raith, and proceeded to find various entertainment, Sadh`o`noc, one of Mal´s friends who have joined our quest, went to the library but got distracted by a pretty librarian, Mal´ (as usual) got roaring drunk, and Farquillan joined me in training.
I find that I do not like their training methods much, they might keep you fit, and provide you with lots of fun. But are only semi-contact, and using lightweight wooden weapons. Farquillan, being a nimble, sneaky elf, though, excelled, and I taught a pair of pretty girls something about hunting-group tactics. Thoughtlessly providing my friend with an opportunity to get in the centre, as he knew what I was teaching, could help, and thereby getting a chance of "making a hit" at them. They appeared to be much more interested in dragging me to the baths though, was willing to do the same thing to him, but wanted nothing more from us. This was a great relief to me, I am getting uncomfortable at all the maidens who seem to be interested in me- even though I cannot fathom why they should indeed have an eye for me. We have put a totally incomprehensible Mal´ to bed, and I think that I will now join Farquillan in his perilous quest to see who can sleep soundest ( but not most soundlessly it seems, he snores like a badger- still it is better than the other two who might, for all we know, be wearing women`s clothing).
Speaking, as I was, of Lionesses, and pretty maidens, it seems as if we have finally lost Tara. Bimbling off to Lagon probably was not entertaining enough to be worth her while, or, she has finally proved whatever it was she was trying to prove. A bit of a shame; she was a good companion, and a nice enough girl. We keep hearing of The King´s ball, perhaps we should visit court ?, or send her there, that would be fun.
Good night.

3/11, 1067. I am devastated, "The Sword", has reached my hands.......
We left Lord Raith on the first of (I can't seem to find my calendar), and journeyed South through terrible weather- almost freezing, and with wet snow. Tired, and sore, we arrived at a village, and took a room at a Hobbit inn. After a pleasant night, we went on, forewarned about something called Sand-Eels, at the nearby dunes. Without fear or hesitation, we set out. Naturally we also met one of these monsters, a five meters long, sand coloured, scaly monstrosity with lots of sharp teeth. Farquillan put some arrows in it, which it did not even notice, and I engaged it in close combat, while Mal` was wondering if it was an endangered species. Meanwhile, I was quickly becoming one such, after I chopped of one of its back appendages, it bit me- as I, foolishly, had put myself between it, and Whirlwind. Then, at that exact moment Mal just had to react, fried it with a lightning, and gave me a lightning shock, as it had its teeth in me. What a choice, would you rather get chewed or fried sir ?. Well I survived, Farquillan bandaged me, and we got to a Nome settlement. After some hassle, they admitted us, we were rested, and I got nearly healed, while Mal` hoarded the teeth operated from my back. Again we quickly set out, we seem to have overcome our "bimble-factor", this time warned against bandits.
These we also encountered, broke of the philosophical discussiuon we were in and, after some chastising, the two survivors of thirteen, fled. Our two prisoners were interrogated, and set free- they were only mercenaries. Afterwards we went to their camp to apprehend their magician, this was lucky, for even though he escaped, we wounded and spread the others.
We then decided to search (loot) the charred remains of the camp, this was the smart move, as we found a chest- contains unknown, and, beneath the leader's mattress, my heritage- The Sword.........












I do not remember much more of the day apart from gripping it, then it was as if the world was rent, and I was in another place, another time- I am child again at a ritual by "The Stones". I see faces vividly, my father, dear beloved mother, other locals that I care for, And most vividly, The Stones, looming, filled with hope and promise- but also with a dark threat, I know that if used, by the wrong hands, they will turn from a salvation, and into a damnation, for my people. I sense that something bad has happened to the people present in my memory, I fear that The Stones, have fallen into the wrong hands.........
Farquillan was later (currently) to recall how they had to do some quick persuasion to keep me from killing our prisoner. This fits in quite well with the dark feelings raging in me, I am personally going to make sure that whomever have mistreated, and oppressed my people, are going to feel very sorry for themselves- I will free my people, and hunt the miscreants down, whatever it is going to cost me. I will unravel the web to find the puppetmaster behind the continuing attacks on Iltharn, whoever it might be- villain, Wraith, Demon, or even God, he will be stopped,. This I swear by "The Stones" with the oath most holy to me.
(To cut a long story short, I am mad !)

Oh yes my rage almost made me forget, Mal` has gone off to catch the villainous magic user, while Farquillan and I continue our grim journey. I sincerely hope that he will arrive in Lagon as agreed, unharmed, and I yearn for more encounters with villains and monsters to vent my rage upon- poor things, and even more, poor Farquillan, who is travelling with a raving lunatic while wounded.
12/11-1067, Well we went to Lagon, where my Elven friends got involved in some serious partying (as usual), and Mal` got addicted to some weird drugs (as usual). Farquillan appeared to have made a slight mistake with some very young Elven girl, not a good way to start off a reputation here, but I know little about it, as I hurried on to catch news of the situation in Iltharn. While I journeyed further South, and before they got drunk/whatever, they interrogated our captive magic-user. Their story was a bit incomprehensible, thanks to certain drugs, but I gather that the gist of it is, he has killed his tutor, and joined the bandits, but claims to have nothing to do with killing royal postmen, or swords- he would have liked to analyse it however, as he is an alchemist, and inadvertedly admitted that there has been at least one alchemist of great power in Igor (until his apprentice killed him for his secrets). I got no news, apart from the fact that Amishel´s girlfriend is in a "happy condition", and that my armour is far from complete. We adjourned again, and started an uneventful trip to Iltharn. Unfortunately the only thing we did not do on it was laying plans for a cover story there. Consequently we had to improvise, I was to act like a Northern barbarian, and my disguised Elven friends would be my servants/apprentices called "Lads". We are not sure it worked however, but suspect that we overdid it a bit, I drank two glasses of beer this morning, I am still slightly dizzy. We reckon that the bad guys’ lookout will think us too ridiculous to suspect, but are sure that he/she has marked us. We plan to keep up this cover as we take a detour South, and into Vasheim, where we will go underground for the journey to Rassal where I reckon that I might still know some reliable people, and Mal claims to have connections......Furthermore we hope to gather more information on our way, While I Godfred of clan Polarbear gets drunk, and abuses everyone. Then changes into Erenion Garrandsson, last heir to "The Sword".

17/11, night, They've killed my parents- I should have come earlier, I could have prevented it had I been here.....
At the 11th, we left Felmar and journeyed South at the highest speed possible without arousing undue suspicions. We were followed, but crossed into Vasheim, where we bribed and hinted at our pursuers being Cho Rakian agents to a corrupt border garrison. These agreed to escort us covertly to Udpost, from which we could cross unnoticed into Iltharn. And thus it happened, we reached Udpost in the evening of the 12th. Here we proceeded to purchase a tent, visit the sweat tent, get some contacts, drink something hot and bitter, called Coffee, and hire a guide/mercenary. She is a pretty woman named Abishai, is half Iltharnian, half Vasheimien, uses a small twohanded sword, is not that tall herself, and has tried a lot of things. Both my Elven friends have gone, more or less, crazy because of her, but I have, and had, other things on my mind.
On the 14th we, with her guidance, reached Iltharn forest, and I started getting a bit homesick. My friends were very understanding, and Mal` went off on reconnaissance in the night. He discovered that his contact had moved, but finally got in touch with her on the next night. He then resolved to get two of us into the capital. So in the evening of the 16th he and Abby` left to approach their contacts in the city, while I took Snuffles to go visit my parents, my heart soaring with the excitement of seeing them again after 15 years, and with apprehension over what had caused them to send the Sword.
Poor Farquillan was left with the horses, a duty he had obviously looked forward to share with Abby`. I should gladly have swapped so as to avoid what has happened.






When I reached the farm, it was as if everything spoke to me reminding me of happy days long past, and I approached it with a great deal of suspense, and apprehension. I went in the back door, which opened by itself when I knocked, and everything seemed strangely deserted, I sensed that something was terribly wrong.... It was- the bed was covered in dry blood, and the old ones not there- well in a sense they were, two graves outside marked their final resting place.
With a quivering heart I went to their neighbours, who I remembered as friends, even calling them uncle and auntie. Quent and Rose, as they are named, quenched my last hope, we understand little of each other´s speech, but I did understand that Cho Rakians, "bad men", had murdered my parents in bed, even in his old age, they obviously feared the old man, and that Maia has disappeared. My dear mother's last words was to bid them send me "the sword, but as Rose reported, weeping, I didn't come..... I gather that they look upon me as their own son, even going so far as to let Snuffles in the house (he is a great comfort), getting me drunk on Moonshine, and letting me use one of their own children's chambers. I cannot sufficiently express my gratitude, but, as I reckon their funds are limited, I shall leave what little money I have here, it does not matter anyway, my zest for living has been quenched- all I want now is revenge. Why can't I cry ?, I want to but cannot, I just feel empty and hollow.... By the Stones, it hurts. Dawn is approaching, I must leave without paying my parents the last respects they are due, someone could spot me. I should have gone home earlier, oath or no oath- I would not have been killed, I could have saved them.
After taking leave of Quentin and Rose, and clashing with five poor, now expired Goblins, I rejoined my friends in the forest on the 19th. It seems as if Maia was taken on the road, and abducted by persons disguised as royal postmen. This information came from Abby, who arrived a long time before Mal´, who it appears has been having a good time, enjoying himself with a witch while I was mourning at my parent’s grave, he could not have known, but still... he might have returned with the information, and started to set things in movement. On the other hand, he must be pleased that a woman has finally noticed him, and he did provide us with both useful ideas, and good connections. On the morrow Farquillan, Abby, and I, will adjourn upon the city, gaining entrance by posing as a native mercenary, her husband, and our “lad”. Whereupon Farquillan will get in touch with the seedy side of town, though, remembering his experience in the hands of the Dwarves, I should probably join when serious negotiations start, and the happily wed warriors will be slipped into the palace (Abbi claims that this plan has got its merits), to talk to Ambrose, who, I hope for his health, must have a good explanation of how this could happen. We must also ask him for missing postmen, and get in touch with Karli, Maia’s apprentice, who has some knowledge of The Stones and has discovered something about artifacts connected to them (and I definitely need a long hot bath) .



I am confused, as we prepare to interrogate our adversaries, I find my feelings jumbled, but it has been a rough day.
We adjourned at Dalman the trader’s place yesterday evening after having travelled by back ways to his home village, Rassal, so as to not arouse suspicions. Unfortunately our friend Sadh’o’noc, who joined us there after “escaping” from Raith’s librarian, had not taken the same precautions, so our cover was blown. The plan we laid goes as follows, we would make an overt try to get into Cho Rak, get me captured, waylay the escort, disguise my friends as escort, get me, wearing an illusion but in fact fully armoured, into the dungeon, Farquillan having done a subtle assassination of the resident magic user so he would not detect the scam, freeing us, laying a false trail, and if no Gryphons came to get us out, ride hell for leather towards either Iltharn or, ideally, Vasheim. Having blown our cover, we decided that we might as well get openly initiated to the Stones, draw the sword, and have me swear very publicly to rescue my sister or die. Consequently this noon saw us, wearing green robes, preparing to get initiated, my friends went first with Abishai starting. I think I detected my, nervous, Elven friends whispering something about light-effects, but noticed nothing more as I approached the Eros-stone, I refused the ritual mithril bloodletting-knife, with which I was supposed to sacrifice some of my heartsblood, and drew the sword.... I immediately felt this overwhelming compulsion to approach the stone, and, as the stunned and gaping Dudannan gathering watched, I was sent to the master-stone in Iltharn city, -I leaped onto my charger and galloped off. There was, according to my friends, some stunned moments before the Dudannan shook themselves out of their reverie, and with my friends in front, desperately tried to catch up with me on my mad dash. Again according to my friends, it looked so hilarious as to laugh, even in a moment as serious as this, when the venerable Dudannan got shaken out of their stunned daze by Abby shouting at them and hitching up her skirts to ride after me, then scrambling around for horses, all of them shouting and spluttering. In Iltharn people made way for me without noticing, and I could rush to the room of the master-stone. I stepped onto it and drew the sword, there was an indescribable sound in my head as the Stones awoke, recognized me and.... I cannot really describe it in words, but as I recovered, I could perceive the Stones as fires, the other initiates of the Stones as small flames, and the master Stone as a roaring bonfire. I also knew that the Stones missed my sister, and I pledged myself to rescue her; as my abilities grew, I began to distinguish between the flames, I recognized my two Elven friends and a whole lot of Dudannan rushing to the room, and perceived that some of the flames have some white in them -Kerikos, I also realized that the Stones perceive the blood-sacrifice as inherently wrong. I stepped off the stone, but could maintain the contact through the sword. This is when Karli burst in, it appears that I had made enough noise awakening the Stones, to arouse even the mentally deaf and blind, a few seconds later the others started pouring in assaulting me with a thousand questions, of which I could answer only few, of course, this is where my smug friends left me to “get provisions” (it also appeared as if Sad´ had overdone the bloodletting a bit), and abandoned me.
When I finally freed myself from the attention of the priesthood, who also just now realized that I am Erenion Garrandsson, brother of Maia, and warden of the Stones (or tool of ?). This started a new flurry of questions before I got away, I left them arguing, and joined my friends- craving a strong drink, with which I was promptly provided. They co-ordinated plans with Ambrose as I fumbled in the dark, trying to use the sword, I discovered that I could indeed distinguish between the flames representing people and contact them mentally, and stumbled forwards- I am running through the darkness, with a gorge opening somewhere before me...
We decided to go back to the Stone in Eros to do some experiments Mal´ had conjured in his twisted mind. On our way there we were ambushed by Kerikos, but forewarned by my growing abilities, and power, we made quick work of them. They were only seven, we have been faced with worse odds, unfortunately, they were protected against Mal’s magic, but we still took them- poor fools. Something appalling happened, however, as I closed with one of them and hit him, the sword got a bit out of hand, I chopped off his leg, but what was worse, I drained his soul away- I am terrified for the first time in years, what have I done? I am not certain that I even want that sort of assistance...
The experiments did not exactly work out well, but it was a start towards something instead of blood-sacrifices, and, however skeptical, the Stones do not seem displeased.

22/11, This morning we set the plan in motion, we started out by Mal’ giving me a black banner with the white stooping hawk, and “Lacho kalad- drego morn”, embrodired in gold beneath it, this, and appropriate warcries and declamations I was to display during our engagement with enemy forces. First silk shirts, then silk banners, what the hell is he trying to do to me?- it is, however, the most exquisite workmanship and uncommonly beautiful, my heart both soars, and is broken when I view this, my family’s heraldic device fluttering in the wind above the battlefield. I think that, should I ever found a family, this will be one of our heirlooms. None of my friends felt any particular need to be banner -bearers, though, so I proudly display it myself. Then we went to do war upon our wicked foemen, and we were indeed fortunate, four Kerikmagi lay in ambush on the far side of the woods that we skirted, forewarned by my ability to see their life-flames, we decided to withdraw to, for us, favorable terrain. Our “eye in the sky”, Sadh’o’noc came back reporting that they had spotted him, not that it surprised us very much. We reckoned that they would have either ten or twenty Cho Rakian horsemen with them, so we took up a defensive position in front of the great crevasse, waiting for them to come to us....


This they did, and we were pleasantly surprised that only four Kerikos, one bearing an artifact- as we had already surmised, five horse archers, and a squadleader came at us. It apearred as if they had learned nothing by their friends’ failure the evening before, or were growing increasingly desperate by thoughts of me learning to use the sword, you only attack with odds higher than three to one, that is if you are sane- against us five to one or above is strongly recommended. Well, things went as planned, they charged, got slaughtered, mostly by Elven longbows, lost “the shield”, and three escaped to warn their compatriots that Erenion “Mormegil” Garrandson is coming for them. He will, however, need some rest as the contact between the two artifacts drained their wielders of “soul-power”. This rest, furthermore, allowed us to plunder the dead, hide the evidence, and deliver the shield to some young puppy, who was hopelessly in love with my sister, and wanted to go and rescue her. I firmly rejected that notion, even though he does speak some Cho Rakian, he would be a liability to our smooth-working group, not being used to work with us, being very inexperienced and wet behind the ears, having few skills, probably being apt to try crazy heroics to rescue Maia, then needing rescue/protection himself-under no circumstances will I allow him to come with us, and I will try firmly to discourage any attempt to tag along after us. So, this is where things stand now.
I am not really aware of the date, but we have freed my sister, and are back out of Cho Rak. It has been a long and hard time, but I will describe it as best as I can; Getting me captured was harder than we had reckoned, three Kerimagi were with the Cho Rakian soldiers, whose camp Sadh’O’Noc had found, and they had to be put permanently out of action before we could let them capture me, or they would detect the sword as a fake. This was not too hard, bur it was, however, hard to keep sufficient quantities of soldiers alive to capture me- we did succeed though. I was brought to the nearest fortress, got my wounds treated, and was questioned, almost without physical discomfort.
However, our competence must have impressed them, as they had me escorted by 60 soldiers, amongst them, two Kerimagi. My friends did take them, but we were all severely wounded in the process. We rested a short while, and pressed on, in my case going on on sheer willpower. Unfortunately, the delay proved almost fatal, we did, however get Maia out through bravery, determination, coordination, luck, and heroics from Sad’, and Mal’. Then we beat feet with half the Cho Rakian army hot at our heels. Maia was in a bad state, my heart cried out for her, and, according to Mal’, she is no longer mentally “whole”, we are contemplating sending her to an elven forest for healing, unfortunately, she is still the resident expert on the Stones, and the other “field post number” appear to have someone both fairly competent, and utterly mad wearing the armour. We have met with Norman the spy, fleeing after an unsuccessful revolt (a diversion for our rescue), and some Guy who appears to be from the same culture as Masaru ( I still remember the tea ritual correctly ). His name is Hitaschi ?, and he seems to be an... anthropologist ? (what the hell is that ?) who was part of a diplomatic mission to Cho Rak, which met with fatal accidents, he is a fairly nice chap, and, as Masaru, very polite.
With these two we made good our escape into Turan’Gar, and we are now escorted / protected by, and negotiating with, the lizardmen. The twisted one, our name for the mad torturer who wears the armour, is fairly close, we are considering a plan to let our non-initiates go and assassinate him, and I am pondering on a method, where I, in the void, can gather in all my hatred and rage, add to it my willpower, link with him in Stonespace, and crush his feeble mind with this mixture. He might have been able to stomp Maia mentally, but she is not as hard and strong as I- being, as I am, half-mad myself.
If I succeed, he will at least be sitting in a corner, playing with his own leavings for the remainder of his life, or at best be totally obliterated, leaving only a dead body on the ground- it should be possible, I am getting consumed with hatred anyway, so it should be possible to use it positively, thereby saving my own sanity. Speaking of which, I am a bit worried, this morning, while sleeping heavily, I dreamt that I was holding this pretty black-haired woman in my arms- Abishai, but when I later awoke, I found that it was Maia. This worries me a bit, I should not be so ehh...., let’s call it comfortable, with my sister, but I dare not mention it to my friends, especially since all they do when they look in Abbi’s or my directions, is snicker, and whisper with their heads close together.... Elves! no matter how much my friends they are, there are certain things that I do not want to discuss with them.
My friend Farquillan has advised me to get laid soon to save my sanity, I am seriously considering this.

----------------------Missing part of account------------------------------

“The old storyteller’s Tale”

This tale can be heard in the taverns of Iltharn in the winters following the battle of Rassal, it will grow with time and with each retelling- mostly it is told by an old man over a mug of ale, but it will, as is the way of such things, spread- perhaps even to the rest of Reshall.
“I will tell you the tale of the battle for Rassal as I saw it. Unlike the esteemed court bard, who watched the battle from behind the lines at the command post- if he was there at all, I did not note him, I elected to follow a new and brightly rising star on the heaven of heroes; Erenion Adanedhel Garrandsson. As you are doubtless aware this valiant young warrior is the champion of the stones and Iltharn, and, though he denies it vehemently, he must be a lord in foreign lands. Thus I would compose the story of a hero, and our own people, where he had proclaimed he would fight if they would stand behind him in the battle.
First, as dark covered the valley, we made our way to the Rhydenan camp as they were most likely to be the first ones to engage the enemy, and Erenion burned with a rightful anger and desire to avenge his parents’ murder, the abduction and torture of his sister, and the repression of our land. He himself had never felt the slavecollar, for as you doubtless know, his parents, Garrand the mighty and Marayel Eledhwen, had hid him from the Kerikos, and later he was sent to Elves for fostering. These girthed him in elfmail, and raised him to be a mighty hero with manners worthy of a king’s court, his tongue that of the Elvenkings, and spirit that of the mighty heroes of old- these did indeed seem to have reawoken in this young champion- towering above us normal mortals, and with the light of Elfinesse burning in his eyes.
With our brave allies we prepared to meet the enemy that our scouts reported were making their way towards us through the Rassal valley. I was given the honour of carrying Erenion’s banner, a stooping hawk in silver on a black field.
We maneuvered into position at our forward defense line, and prepared to make our stand, before a messenger reached us from the great lord Ambrose, our brave and wise Duke- the Iltharnian and Royal forces would join us in 2-4 hours.
Then, as dawn coloured the leaden sky, we saw the enemy- thousand upon thousands of Cho Rakian horsemen covered the valley in front of us as a swarm of locusts, slowly crawling forwards, leaving only desolation behind them.
Would the king’s forces reinforce us in time, and if so, can we hold them away from Rassal and ultimately the heart of Iltharn itself. I must admit that my own hearth quavered with fear at that moment, Goblins are one matter- an army of horsemen advancing on you like an avalanche- something entirely different, but one look at the eager readyness of my companions, and the cold light burning in the eyes of Erenion stilled my fears.
Our forces won the race, and formed a strong defensive position across the valley, so we rode to join the Iltharnian pikemen on the road where pressure would be greatest and the terrain was mostly to the attackers’ advantage. As we arrived we saw the pikemen formed into a line, now, I do not claim to be an expert on tactics, but I could see why Erenion inquired the rough captain commanding them why they were not formed into a block. He answered that it was lord Ambrose’s order. As Erenion started desperately to send messengers and redressing the line, the Cho Rakians hit it, it held the first assault..... but the onslaught continued, and as a message reached us that the left flank had repelled the invaders, were killing them in droves, and that the reserve were marching up to form proper pikeblocks, the savageness of the fighting increased, and though Erenion himself stood in front of the line, and no Cho Rakian got past him alive- marvelluos it was to behold his fighting, effortlessly flowing from stance to stance in one fluid motion to slaughter the enemies, the line started to waver, another wave of screaming horses and ululating Cho Rakian knights, and another, and another- then, in spite of the heroic effort of Erenion, smiting enemies left and right, striking again and again with superhuman effort and strength, the line broke. Here I myself got my hands full fighting off the bandylegged barbarians, I have still got the limp for remembrance. Even our heroic efforts under Erenion was not enough to hold them. And, as captain went down it all evaporated. I do not know how long it lasted stiking again and again in a desperate struggle for survival, but it was through the effort of Erenion that some of us survived- he rallied most of us and held the field with a few volunteers, while he sent the rest to join the approaching reserve pikemen. Only through his heroic struggle did we hold the enemy at bay, he was everywhere, boosting morale, leading a desperate counterattack, and stopping routs by his mere presence and valour, while our reserves marched up, and the Cho Rakians slaughtered our cavalry.









This sight, and that of the knights wasting time charging backwards and forwards- jousting the enemy knights as at a tournament, enraged him, and spurred him on to even greater heroics. Overriding the protests of the reserve captain
he gave a stirring speech, whetting our rage and hatred, and, in a cold frenzy, leading a charge into the Cho Rakian knights, who wheeled to face us in a charge that would normally have sent us fleeing- not, however, now. The battlerage instilled by Erenion was upon us, it had us seized in its claws, and we would kill them, or die ourselves before giving way on this day. This was our finest hour, I will remember this day of carnage ‘till I die. Roaring with rage we charged into the astounded knights, scewering and slaughtering left and right, but none could match or keep up with Erenion “Mormegil”- smiting all enemies within reach and shouting in some foreign tongue, he cut a way through the huge melee towards the enemy general- no Cho Rakian survived more than a second or two in the space within his reach, and soon even the general’s own bodyguard were trying to flee- something Cho Rakian knighs never does. They are normally extremely fanatic- often taking their own life before fleeing or being captured. This was, however too much even for them, the yong, black-armoured, bloodcovered giant charging towards them and killing everything in his way with a single stroke, often cutting through both horse and rider in his frenzy, broke their morale utterly, and they tried to flee. The retreat turned into a rout, and then to panic as he, leading us, closed in, and they could not get out of our way, being penned in by their own advancing troops from behind. Here things evaporated into a massacre, for the next five minutes we killed them as we wanted to- screaming and flailing horses and men in a panicked fight for their lives that most lost as pikes went in spitting them as the pigs they were. Still the most frightening thing on that nauseating field was Erenion with his huge black sword, none could face his anger and they all got cut down as they fled from him- the merest scratch from that dreadful black sword being more lethal than a lance through the heart. I did not see it myself, but I have talked to men claiming that they saw the moment when he reached the Cho Rakian general, and cut him down, forgetting, in his rage, the effects of his dreadful black sword. I must admit that some others I have met claims that they themselves scewered the general with their pikes, but many claims this, lord Erenion claims nothing. Thus the Knight-captain rode up, almost got killed by lord Erenion, thinking in his rage that anyone on a horse was an enemy, and proclaimed, “ well done Iltharnians, now leave the rest to us- the champions of the kingdom”. I saw with my own eyes that lord Erenion started to laugh, leaning on his sword and saying, “Yes go ahead and joust your evil adversaries, but bear in mind that was it not for the Iltharnian peasants and the blood they have shed here today on this grisly field, the Cho Rakian guard would still have you on the retreat, and the battle lost”. The knight’s face reddened a bit at that, but he gathered the reins of his mount, reared, and proclaimed to a still bitterly laughing lord Erenion that they would assuredly hunt down the invading vermin. Thus we won the day, and the battle for Rassal by the fortune of the stones, who has been gracious enough to send us mighty lords like Ambrose, and Erenion Adanedhel Garrandsson, and long may the heroics of this day, and the blood we shed in defense of our homes be remembered in the hearts of all good, free and true men”.
This is the account flourishing in the streets and inns of Iltharn, it might not be entirely truthful, but it is a great boost for morale- some, in time, even ventures to say that without the the children of Garrand, whose sad tale is also told in full- named Narn I Hirn Garrand (the tale of the children of Garrand)- Iltharn will most assuredly fall, but never while their families live. Thus it is a great sorrow to the people that “lord Erenion” must leave them on another quest, even though he promises to return come spring. Tracey only; by the way, when is the supposed luck that the Sword will supposedly confer to me reveal itself ???- until now my parents have been slaughtered, my sister been abducted, and I myself captured- only to barely escape and barely win a battle ( and I never got laid), and I am going mad (and I never got laid). Before I leave, I will coerce some knights, “Men in green.., and Iltharnian peasants to hunt Gob’s with me, this, I hope, will mold them together (you know what happens to companions in arms), and thus form the foundation of a hard corps of men with elvenlike wilderness skills, but able to fight from horseback as well, whatever is the most appropriate form of combat. Their most important weapon should be their brain, so only a few of the knights can apply- those willing to give up chargers for an ambush when needed. In time I hope these men will be the hard core, and teachers of the small elite band of warriors, called Warders of the Stones ?? that I propose / purpose to raise.

----------------Missing part of the account ------------------
I am a bit upset, I have started to reconsider my life and attitude.
We left Masaru’s house, and went to negotiate with the dwarves. They had a room especially for this, fortunately containing both mugs and barrels (I do not like the thought of sailing with Mal very much and want to get pissed out of my head at least once more). There, for some reason, we ran into Tara- I recognised that blond hair and slim back immediately, but Mal, in his drunken stupor, did not and he went and tweaked her. We delivered our message, and went to the bar, Mal told tall tales from his time as a sailor; I did not believe a word of it. But then again, I have never seen the sea, and quail from the prospect of going on my first sea-voyage with Mal- consequently I got very drunk, I drank both my elven friends beneath the table (mostly because they would fit, I did not and thus could continue to drink).
We staggered back to our temporary dwelling, I think, I remember very little from the last four hours of this evening.
But I awoke in a cupboard with my arms around “The Fish”, hugely amusing my friends and slightly hung over.
Anyway, we bimbled to Senacran with only a slight delay, and I ran my hangover from my body.
Crossing the river on the ferry proved expensive except for Mal, who teleported, and Tara, who smiled and fluttered her eyelashes at the ferryman.
Eventually we got there, and went aboard Mal’s ship. He immediately started ordering us about, but assuming that he knew what he was doing, I obeyed and took an oar- he never gave me the chance to tell him that I have never rowed before.
Anyway it was rather unsuccessful, but we finally got the ship moving through Tara’s volunteering to bestow a kiss on us if we did well. We did, and so did she, I have never experienced a kiss to be that enjoyable, before and was left us rather breathless, but enough of that for now (what did she mean about “later”).
To repress the thoughts of ..... eh sailing- yes sailing with Mal that’s it, I went to sleep.
I was awoken by a huge jolt, and immediately thought that we had hit something and were sinking- we had hit something, a riverbank on Long Isle.
As we made our way upriver, deviating only slightly from our course occasionally to hit obstacles, we eventually hit elven territory (I mean this literally), and something strange happened, Mal and Aithne must have felt the same urges as me; they ran off into the forest and left us with some unknown elf we had encountered. We talked to him for awhile until they returned- dressed up as clowns? Each other?? . We were then led to an elf of the mages’ guild and he started to discuss subjects with Mal of which I understood but little. The gist of what I understood was, I think; the evil baddie was at least half-demon (kill) he had three sons who were not necessarily evil, they did not act evil, Farquillan’s sister was with one of them, and Mal’ and I were all for going for the father.
The thing that has got me thinking was her kiss, it felt good, perhaps I should start reconsidering my dedication to fight evil. I have always been so dedicated to this, and weighed down by the destiny and duty I carry that I have denied the pleasures of the flesh. Now, however.... I do not know, I could give in to the demands of my body, but what if it detracts from my effectiveness as a fighter, or if I fall in love- I cannot, I am courting only death. Furthermore, what does she (and Abbi and all the others) see in me, I am neither handsome, nor poetic, nor, I guess, a very good lover- and I walk in peril almost every day. What is the point of having a relationship if you might die and cause sorrow. On the other hand, my body tells me “what is the reason for not indulging her and enjoying yourself, if you are dead tomorrow, you will never try it”. I am confused, I think I will go and get drunk, perhaps talking to Farquillan might help- but the elves are already teasing me.
To cut a long story short, eventually we gave in to the demands of our bodies. After having spent some sleepless nights in our shared tent, she finally decided to coddle up to me without wearing her night-gown- I would not really label it a mistake, we both ended up having fun and I wish I had done this some time before....

Speak to Tara, I am sorry that I forced myself upon her that way, I lost my self-control. I will swap places with one of the Elves, because I am not certain that I can control myself. Actually I am certain that I cannot, I enjoyed it very much, but I had no rights to assault her that way. She must loathe the sight of me, we could also pay her reparations and let her leave, or I could journey home. But I like her and hope that she will stay, however sorry I am for my behaviour.
She did not really understand my meaning, but made me forget every intended apology and excuse by massaging me, and, again, we lost control, though this time it was purposely.
However, I am a bit worried about her feelings for me, they might be deeper than I really want them to be. I am not ready for a steady relationship, I am already married- to my struggle against the evil that devoured my land so many times and still threatens it.
Anyway, Mal’ researched spells and spiritworld, while we bred and Farquillan went to gather information. He eventually ended up befriending Elliel, the youngest son who is also a great huntsman and his future brother-in-law (we hope). He seemed very sad, he had had a falling out with a father who dislikes him, over Farquillan’s sister who he apparently loves. And has sent away to Lagon to live under false identity (at this point Tara distracted me so I did not really hear if he intended to go to there himself. Further, he is sad about his mother who has seemingly gone mad and is locked up in Keillel’s tower- Elliel does not really want to consider why she has gone mad (neither do I), but he claims that his father has fled from another colony of evil, wicked elves (not Drow, but Shadowelves), and is afraid they will hunt him down (personally I think Keillel is lying through his teeth to his good, nice and honest sons), consequently the kids are to report any foreign intruder on their domain.
We did not really want this to happen, so we invited him on a Satyrhunt, he was a bit intimidated by the thought, but I convinced him by mentioning the prisoners of the Satyrs who were in misery, of these there are at least one- possibly two elves and a great number of spirits. This swayed him.
So, next day we went Satyrhunting. We approached their possible dwelling with care and armed to our teeth with magic.
Mal’ succeeded in swaying their scout-spirit to us (as far as I gather) and we penetrated their clearing, they fled in the face of our wrath- into a mine protected by their mine / iron spirit, Mal, who had at this point left Tara, Puddyfoot and me behind as we could not enter the spiritworld, defeated it so we could safely enter the mine, this was relayed, via Warg, to us, and I did the same to a place-spirit protecting the vale and circle of trees.
The others then entered the mine, and the extent of my knowledge of what happened there is limited, but I gather that Mal’ did one of his usual things- charging them alone and getting severely damaged, though he hurt and chased them off in the process. At some point, we perceived a strange shimmering of the spiritworld. I realised that we would be at a huge disadvantage in there without armour and weapons, so I said “no we are not entering right now, we do not know what is happening”, Puddyfoot, however, smelled Elf in there and we reckoned that that was the prisoners. Then we charged in and engaged them. We were less than effective compared to our usual self, and I got badly wounded, but we succeeded in freeing the prisoner elves, taking one prisoner ourselves, and chased them off, even wounding one of them. This is good, we went against them on severely bad terms, Three of us not even tasting combat and the others engaging in the worst possible environment to us- and we still got them beat.
Wonder what they make of it and us, they are going to come back at us, but how- they are likely to underestimate us, even if they reckon us formidable, we are and they have tasted no real menace from us yet.
They seem to be too dependant on spirit aid, so they might wait for a day until they get two of their spirits back and then come in again. However, we must not underestimate them, they have proved less formidable than I feared, but might have other tricks up their sleeve, so to speak, and might go and get Keillel (that would be nice- to get him out of his defensive position, but unlikely). We do not know what they will do next and must be prepared for the worst .




Again the end-campaign got lost, as did the tale of Mal'Bro'Sac's demise and mysorrow. For Adan's continued adventures in the guise as Castamir The Mercenary, see next chapter, for a different account of events, see Journal of Mal'Bro'Sac.