Piker’s Journal

As told by Piker…

Well, now…I am not one to often take quill to paper, but I believe the events of these past months should be recorded in some way ere I pass.  It’s true that we never know the hour of our death, but some of us can read the signs of something of great portent, be it one’s own death, a great change in the world, or even the birth of someone to be great among their people.  Oh, now, now…I am not seeing any of those things myself with any clarity, but something is moving me to make note of recent happenings in case they be forgotten, because it seems to me this might be useful to some.

So, where do I begin?  Well, methinks I will say a few words about me to set the stage as it were.  You can call me Piker, and some would say I’m a druid, and others would say that I’m of the Runda.  Now to say either would be the right of it, but most would say both out of a bit of ignorance of what that means.  Yes, I’m a druid, and some would be closer to the mark with their guess on what that is.  Others might say I’m of the Runda, with a good guess, but just a guess.  What I say of the Runda is not too much, but we are druids is for sure. 

Another place I think I’ll start this story is with me own Forest Inn.  It’s a modest place that I acquired some years ago while traveling back up from down to the city of Lexing, in the Kingdom of Overlance, to visit my old friend Ardyn.  Ahhh, what success that man had!  He and I traveled long ago from the Old Kingdoms over the sea to The New Kingdoms where I now sit.  Ardyn simply had the knack for meeting the right people at the right time.  Some would say he had the ‘karisma’.  I say he was just had a better looking face and a gob that spoke more like the poets of old.  In any event, Ardyn soon acquired the position of ‘Royal Armorer’ or some such thing at the court of Queen Marona herself!  Now that’s a thing to put on your tombstone!  So, some would ask why a druid would be an armorer, for a druid is what Ardyn was, and a Runda too to boot.  I would say now you know a bit more a bit about Runda, because we aren’t the typical tree-hugging and mulch-eating type of druid.  We know a bit more and do a bit more and have our own bit of specialties.  Mine is a bit closer in the acquiring of hard to find, hidden, or locked items and Ardyn’s was in the talking to the metals and shaping them into beautiful armor and sharp pokey blades.

Now, in any event, I went to go visit Ardyn one day as it was quite some time since we shared the jug.  He tells me in a letter some months earlier that he took on a new apprentice and suggested I come down to meet him.  Well, now, I can’t imagine why a man would want me to meet his apprentice, particularly if it makes me walk nearly 1,500 miles to do so.  I thought the man mad, but I also think he had other news to share.  Well now, I won’t belabor your eyes telling the full story of my reunion with my friend, but he did share some news that our fellow Runda have been watching since long before my great grandfather’s great grandfather had his first sip of barley juice. 

Well, now, I did meets his apprentice…a fine lad named Lehel.  The odd thing is that this lad was of the wild-folk of the west who ain’t seen much in any place of culture unless as slaves or farm servants.  ‘Twas clear though that Lehel had the gift about him and he quite likely would make a fine armorer and druid one day.  Who knows, a Runda he may become as well. Who knows?

Ahhh, well, regardless of all that, I journeyed back North to me home at the port town of Cleave.  It is many a days travel back home from Lexing, and after a long walk on one of those days getting a bit closer to the end of my journey, I was walking amng some nice cool and shady  sandstone rocks, with the strangest carvings among them.  In one location, a stone beast with the head of a man and body of a four-legged creature. There was a book with a holy symbol above it, and nearby, a great ship carved into the stone.  There be more than a dozen more carvings of different types. It was an interesting place with a small stream, and after taking a bit of a break in the shade and a cool drink from the stream, I decided to do some looking around in little crevices and such to see if anyone may have hidden away some silver pennies as offerings to these stone carvings. I was about to leave when a face appears to me on the side of the rock speaks up to me and says ““Druid! There are strangers in the land”!  Now it shouldn’t be surprising to anyone who has a face carved in stone talk to them to let a bit of the bladder leak down your leg, but there I was.  Standing in shock with my left trouser leg bearing witness to my startlement! 

Now, this rock says to me again as plain as day “Druid! There are strangers in the land”. Well, I looks around and says to that stone face and I says to him “Good day to you, Mr. Rock.  Aye, there probably be strangers about, and I think I’m one of them!”  The rock then says to me a third time “Druid, there are strangers in the land”.  Being a bit uncomfortable with this conversation that was happening and my wet pant leg I says to the rock “Mr. Rock, can you be a bit more specific than that and why are yeh telling me?”  Now, the rock was silent and didn’t say anything more.  I went and tapped below the face of Mr. Rock and it was as stone as stone.

 I thought I was going a bit daft from the long day’s travel.  I looked about to see if someone was pulling a fast one on ol’ Piker.  As I see no one, I continued on.  Not more than a dozen yards further I walked when another stone face appears and it says to me “Druid, behold the seed” and the other Mr. Rock spit at my feet!  Oh, I was ready to give him a whack with my staff, when I looked down and sees a large walnut-looking thing that had a bit of a sprout coming from it.  I looked back up and the face and it was unmoving and silent as…well, silent as stone.  So, I bent down and picked up this seedling and looked it over.  Sure enough, I could tell there was something special about this little fella.  It radiated something through my finger tips.  At first, I thought I might have been getting some poison oak or itchy ivy on my fingers but realized it was but the magic of the Fairy.  Tis true, I be holding a seedling of an infant Fairy Tree!

I will tell ye a bit of the Fairy Trees.  These magical trees are all connected to each other through ‘the ways’ and allow those who are trained in their passage to jump from one to another, regardless of their distance apart in the blink of an eye.  Oh, what a magical thing this was indeed.  I held the seedling with care and started my journey again as the pipes and promise of a good ale was still calling me.  A few more steps I took, and another face in the rock says to me “Druid, there are strangers in the land”.  I nodded to yet another Mr. Rock and went on my way. 

Not more than a half mile or so away from the rocks, I heard some playing of pipes through the woods.  Now it was a hot summer’s day, and when you hear pipes like that, there is usually some tapping of the feet and possibly some dancing.  But certainly…certainly…. there is a greater likelihood of some cold brew or uncorked jugs (or possibly both!)  So, on me way towards the music I went and found myself coming into a forest glade with a small inn.

“Welcome to the Forest Inn and Tavern” shouted an old and rotund man from the doorstep.  He held out a foamy-topped mug to me and when I came forward took the mug from his hand and gave my gratitude, the piping and the tapping stopped.  “I’m Rozman, the innkeeper here and I’m pleasantly surprised to see a living soul in these parts.”  After a sip from the mug, I says to him “My name is Piker, master Rozman!  Your ale is well appreciated! I will be happy to pay for the next as well as a bit of a meal.  Is that stew I smell?”  I took a few steps to the side of the inn where the music and tapping came from.  I looked about the corner and the music and tapping stopped. There wasn’t a soul about except a brown squirrel sitting upon a table chewing an acorn.  I looked back at the man and asks “Where be the musician and his pipes?”  Master Rozman gave me a hearty laugh and says “The only music you might here around here is that of the birds and squirrels chittering at each other unless you come around during the Festival in the Forest”.  I must have given him a very confused look and he continued.  “The Festival in the Forest is our Autumn harvest.  Have you heard of The Trial of Champions, maybe?  The Trial is held at the same time as our Festival in the Forest.”   I know I gave the innkeeper a confused look and he continued his explanation.  “The Trial of Champions is a time when the each of the guilds in the New Kingdoms nominate the best of their apprentices, and they compete to get a gold coin for their successful apprenticeships.  The Trial has been held here at the inn for nearly two centuries.  I’ve had the inn myself for the past 30 years or so, but it has gone on for generations earlier.”  I listened to his explanation but still had a confused look upon my face pondering the music I heard.  The Innkeeper smiled and told me to sit down while he brought me over some bear stew and another pint.

“The Trial of Champions is a ceremonial event held each year here.  It started after the defeat of the Shadow Lord, and it happened right here in this spot!”  He slammed the table in front of me as he took a pull from his own mug.  “You see”, he continued, “the Forest Inn was the hub of the rangers who kept their eye out for the Shadow Lord’s return.  In fact, one of their captains named Fildrazio used to own the Forest Inn right before it all went down!  Yes sir, the Forest Inn has a very long and rich history to her with many a hero celebrating victories and mourning the loss of friends right at these same tables.  Heroes from across the New Kingdoms gathered here and used some kind of portal they say to battle against the shadow creatures and other nasty creatures of the Shadow Lord.  Sadly, the last battle took the lives of each and every one of them.  It was said that they all perished in the Shadow Realm, sacrificing themselves for all the people of the kingdoms.  That Shadow Lord was defeated, and each year, they commemorate the sacrifices of those heroes by hosting the Trial of Champions right here in the same spot it all happened.  Yes sir, this inn has heard many tales told by many well known heroes.  The Trial attracts the best of the best apprentices as they graduate, and it’s right here where some of their meddle is tested.  Sadly, I cannot host another one, and this past Festival was my last.  I was about to board the old inn up as I’ve decided to settle down someplace warmer and maybe along the coast of the sea.  The winters here are a bit rough for an old, fat man, and the customers from the town of Hinckle are a rarity out here.  “What about the music I heard when I arrived?” I asked.  Master Rozman squinted is eye as he drained his mug, eyeing me all the time.  “Some say, those ‘attuned’ can hear and see the ghosts of the Shadow Wars from time to time.  I am not saying it’s not true, as I’ve heard some strange things from time to time myself”.

Now then, after a few days with master Rozman at The Forest Inn, we traded some coins and he gave to me the deed to the inn and I became the new Innkeeper of The Forest Inn and Tavern.  You see, one of the reasons I bought the Forest Inn in the first place was because as I went to drain the ale I drank after I had a good number of pints the night before, I happened to water a stone on the outside of the cabin.  Well now, the pressure was so strong from my own member that I washed off a good amount of dirt off part of the stone and I sees with my blurry morning eyes, some ancient runes that I had learned during my early years of training.  Well, for the few days, I decided to stay at the Inn and spent many a coin purchasing on master Rozman’s ale!  Each time I had to drain my bladder, I went to the stone to wash of a bit more of the dirt.  On the morning of the 4th day, I washed off the stone enough to realize that it was an indeed what we druids call an “Ogham stone”.  These great stones of old are said to be created from the god Ogham himself.  These stones often keep secrets of old, some with spells, and some with basic directions.  All of the Ogham stones have number of runes in the language of old.  I could read some of it, but sadly, there were some runes I could not read, and there were many sections of the stone itself that were simply chipped away with runes missing.  These stones are always of great interest to us Runda, and I know my friend Ardyn was studying some stone near Lexing that he called an ‘obelisk’.  The runes were similar to those of the Ogham stones, he told me on my last visit, but he couldn’t fully interpret them.  He took copious notes and ciphers he told me and was coming close to an answer.  So, again, I thought the to myself that owning a little inn next to an Ogham stone was too opportune and opportunity to pass up.  So here I am and have been here nearly 20 years.

Of the seedling that was spat at me by Mr. Rock, I planted it behind the Inn and have kept a close watch on it.  I learned to supplement some of my income from the ‘off months’ of the Festival in the Forest by selling some items I’ve acquired or found loosely screwed down.  “Piker’s Peddled Paraphernalia” is my shop and I never know what I will have added to my collection for sale and I sell most items during the Festival.  Now, I didn’t miss a beat with keeping the traditions of the Festival going, and each year I hosted a Trial of Champions.  Many from the town of Hinckle attend to participate in the Festival in the Forest and the Trial of Champions.  The king’s men themselves have stopped from time to time, and that’s where I first met my lovely, Miranda Twinkletoes.

Miranda is wise in the ways of cooking, herbalism, folk medicine, midwifery and known for her potions and homebrews. Responding to all who called on her for healing and comfort, she was cherished in her wretchedly poor village of Darkford, along the shores of the great Crooked River a few miles south of where it empties into Lake Eerie. Farming, herbalism, and healing has always been a skill of hers, being passed down from her parents. Her father was a farmer with a green thumb like no other.  Miranda often tells stories of her father. The man could talk the plants into growing the most beautiful fruits and vegetables.  Her mother was an herbalist who taught her the ways of the plants in nature and how they are used to bring nearly magic-like benefits.  Truly, I have learned since, that her parents were of the Druid path, nt necessarily apprentice trained, but self taught in the ways.  Many of these skills and lore were also passed to Miranda at a very young age.  Sadly, her parents died of a plague that there was no cure.  Dark magic, some say.  In their absence, Miranda grew her skills in healing and her reputation grew as well.  Even I heard of the woman long before I set eyes upon her the first time.  Like her parents, her compensation was often just love, respect, and a paltry pittance for her unstinting labors by the people of the area. She was often called upon by the people of Cleave and Ak Rhun, particularly in times of pestilence and sickness and her devotion to the sick under the most stressful circumstances gained the attention of the landed nobility of the area who had her attend themselves and their knights on the many excursions of the king’s army in the region.  She treated the lords and their vassals with equal skill and attention and traveled with them on their campaigns in many strange lands.  One lucky autumn day, this is how I came to set eyes on her.  She arrived with a contingent of soldiers who returned from their campaigns at the same time as the Festival.  She must have fallen in love with the Forest Inn as she stayed until after the Festival and became my wife shortly after.

Now Miranda loves to talk to people of all walks of life and unlife, living or dead,  and she has a keen ear for the happenings of all including nearby villagers, their friends, their distant relatives, and even the most obscure stories of people several times removed from her connections.  To call her a gossiper would not be truthful, she just knows a lot and has a knack for learning about many, many, many people.  When relaying stories or other information, the listener may need a little patience as she wanders through irrelevant details before getting to the gist of the story, but I think she might get that a bit from being with me as well.  Ye may found it helpful to kindly interrupt her and remind her what the point of the story is, which brings her back on path.  Besides her stories about a variety of people, Miranda is known by her friends to regularly compliment the most mundane of things, her homebrew potions as well as a taste or two of her ‘liquid radiance’ (which she herself rarely imbibes), but admittedly I do quite regularly.

Now, it isn’t a surprise that the Festival has attracted some skilled artisans, nor is it unusual for Druids to find each other through some act of the gods and form a Circle.  So it happened that the same happened to us.   As Miranda and I continued practicing our own arts at the Forest Inn, others skilled in the druidic arts became acquainted with the Forest Inn and joined our Circle. 

The first to come to join us was a man named Liam.  Now I’ve caught bits and pieces of Liam’s history, and it shames me to look upon my own lackluster family after hearing about his.  In any event, I’ve tried to capture as much as I’ve learned about our woodsman friend and his family. Liam’s family were skilled in the druidic arts for many generations. Liam’s grandfather, Jeal'ain, was born to a nomadic tribe of druids in the Wildlands just southwest of Calledras. Jeal'ain, a druid from the Old Kingdoms who followed the signs (and possibly the ways) to the New Kingdoms.  After he arrived, Jeal’ain formed his own tribe of nomads to have a ready pool of successors, and this tradition was followed for over 300 years.  

The daughter of Jeal’ain was named Ta’leah and she and her husband Karom, a fierce some soldier and experienced woodsman, had a child named Liam.  Liam grew up exploring the vast natural areas of the New Kingdoms, learning survival and hunting skills, how to respect nature, and picking up certain magic abilities. Karom taught Liam much of the nature of combat, tactics, and battle magic.  Sadly, Karom came down with a mysterious illness that was beyond the skills of Ta’leah, and he soon after died. Ta’leah continued to live in her homestead and she trained Liam there in the Way of the Water and forest magic.  Liam also grew in his skills as a woodsman, developing many of the skills his father gave him.  In Liam’s adventures, he came across our little Forest Inn and learned that we were druids as well.  Both Ta’leah and his mother joined our Circle, but like her husband, Ta’leah came down with a mysterious illness that even Miranda and all her healing magic could not prevent.  Ta’leah died shortly after.  Since her death, Liam has remained a part of the Runda Circle of the Forest Inn, but has remained a bit of a recluse, studying the causes of his father’s and mother’s premature death. Through his mother’s stories Liam learned of his grandfather’s quests to investigate rumors of the causes and folklore of its like from years gone by.  Like his father, Liam has proven his combat skills.  He is known for single handedly taken down the Norwalk Ogre, defeating the Shadow of Sheffield, banishing the Piketon Pixie.  He even ended the reign of the Beast of Rockwood.  He is well known for his skills in hunting, animal handling, and leatherworking as well as his mastery of the Way of the Water, forest and battle magics.  Adventurers can often find Liam around the Festival dispensing what help he can and working on his crafts as a leatherworker and bower/fletcher, or just whittling.  I personally have yet to see Liam partake of any fermented drink, although one day, I still hope to catch him at a time when he will share a jug with me!

A couple of years ago, an interesting fellow appeared at the Forest Inn.  A very sage-like wanderer who was clearly well schooled in learning the lore of the multiverse.  The man was named Draleoch, and it sounds just as it’s spelled…I wasn’t very good at assembling all the letters, myself.  At first meeting, I was unclear if he was a professor from some high university at Ak Rhun, a priest, or a druid.  After stopping at the Forest Inn with a meal in his belly, Draleoch told my wife and I that he felt a ‘pull’ to the Forest Inn.  I assumed it was the pull of Miranda’s evening meal cooking, but after talking to him throughout the evening it was clear that he had an intense and primary focus on the multiverse at large, and specifically with other gods and how they are perceived (both feared and respected) by other pantheons. This was a strange mixture of a man with the arts, but as I thought to myself, I understand the value of learning about many gods and pantheons in his quest to understand both good and evil in the world and the natural.  I learned in those few hours that he was indeed a druid, and a Runda to boot who seemed honestly pulled to our growing Circle.  He’s a friendly looking fellow, a bit unkempt in his own style and in some ways seems to have tampered with a bit of thought-provoking mushrooms from time to time.  He sometimes drifts off in a trance-like state, and it’s hard for me to tell if he is sleeping in a strange position, communing with the gods, or added some mushrooms to his meal.  He has been a wealth of knowledge to us and has obviously traveled far more than many of us.  His divinations often precede the results of our own, which tells me he might be getting some divine assistance from somewhere.

Just last year, a tall man arrived at the Forest Inn bearing an array of lutes, flutes, drums, and bells that he looked like a one-man orchestra or maybe an orchestra’s baggage man.  He showed up a few days prior to the Festival and I assumed he may have been one of the recent graduates from his apprenticeship who was chosen by their guild master to attend the event.  The man quickly settled into our encampment and made himself at home.  “Hallo” I says to him.  “I think you should be setting up your tent in the large field with the rest of the apprentices.”  The man just looked at me and smiled and strummed on his mandolin and sang me a song of who he was…

Ahh now, it was a lovely ditty…  He sang his name as Eoin Ó Cèilidh and he sang with much cheer and energy.  He sang of his training in the druidic way and of his knowledge only the Runda know.  He finds his love and power through music of all sorts, be they instruments or the sounds of the wind lowing through the trees, the birds tweeting, or even the rabbits humping in the field.  I swear that when I hear him playing his bodhrán, he intentionally sends those images into my eyes.  Gah!  Aye, he’s a grand storyteller and a story he loves to hear too!  He quickly came into membership into our Circle and was instrumental in helping us awaken me own Fairy Tree that I had in the back of the Inn.  Oh, which reminds me to continue the story of that blessed tree!

I’ve had recent words that my old friend Ardyn was slain and many of his workshop plundered.  Many of his journals and cipher translations have been stolen.  By whom, I can only suspect and more investigation needs to be done by the Runda of our Circle.  Such a tragedy indeed, as I know Ardyn was convinced himself that he was on the precipice of a major discovery as it relates to the runes on the obelisks.  Of his work, little is known, but his once-apprentice, Lehel, is making the journey to join our Circle at the Forest Inn.  My hope is that Lehel brings news and sheds more light on this dark event.  Yes, I suspect it actually may be about the Dark as I write those words!

So it goes that we, as a Circle, were called together for reasons beyond our knowledge.  I’m not the smartest mule in the stable, but as sure as rain is wet, the calling to come together at this particular location was something the gods wished us all to do whether we liked it or not.  So it comes to be that the hosting of the Trial of Champions played a dual role for us in the grand scheme.  My profiteering…ehhh….my professional business of the Inn and some of the druidic business that is often part of my life.

Of the last Trial of Champions

So here is the story as told to me by so many of the former apprentices who took on the Trial of Champions…  As every year since the beginning over 200 years ago, the Trial is a ceremonial event that coincides with our local Festival in the Forest. I think I may have described all that earlier in this writing, but I will do a bit of repetition here.  Now the Trial is one of ceremony and a bit of a test of riddles, skills, and so on.  It’s meant to put the former apprentices ‘to the test’ but not to injure them in any way at all.  Simply tire them out and stretch their skill-muscles as it were.  The way it typically works is that the guild masters from across the new kingdoms create their own bit of tests, and if the apprentices complete it, they are given a gold coin to get them on their way to setting up their own businesses.  Now, a gold piece isa handsome sum, considering most will only make 2-3 silver in any given month.  So each of the apprentices formed into their own small parties and off they went!  Some traveled some miles to accomplish some tricky tasks.  Each party had to do something quite different.  By evening, and upon the return of the party, the guild master was to present each with their prize.  Ahhh, but there was great tragedy to this story.

So we learned in the evening that some of the guild masters went missing and others came to a tragic end.  Some, slain in a near ceremonial style.  ‘Twas a horrible evening as the stories started to flood in.  As Runda, we tried to divine what had happened to the missing guild masters and possibly learn who did these heinous deeds.  Liam went far and wide collecting searching through the lands and picking up clues to find information.  By morning, we had several leads that we needed to follow-up on, but there are too few of us Runda to go in so many directions.  We asked the former apprentices for their help in the search, and since many had known their guild masters, the roles of volunteers swelled.  Early the next morning, the young heroes followed up on leads, and when each of them returned to report in and provide everyone updates, we all saw a common thread to the stories… Dragonborn.  Those scaley creatures of the deep south were never up to any good, and their disdain for those unlike them has long been festering in the new kingdoms.  Aye, many a problem over my years can be pointed to them! 

We learned that the Dragonborn were behind it all, but what was their motive?  The uncovering of their plot and possibly the rescuing of the remaining guild masters and others was greatly needed.  Now, the abode of the creatures of the Great Swamp is 2,000 miles from our humble inn, and sure as right is right, those creatures didn’t just come up this way on a Sunday afternoon stroll.  No.  Those Dragonborn were certainly plotting for many a month to do their dark deeds, indeed they were! Now the heroes of the trial, for now as they are indeed ‘heroes’, engaged in many dangers to learn what the Dragonborn were up to.  Sadly, more than a one lost their young lives in the endeavor. 

It became to be known to us Runda that the Dragonborn were trying to awaken an ancient entity…many of them in fact.  The Dragonborn ‘shamans’ (as it seems they call their priests and such) were divided into numerous little sects, and each of these sects tried to raise their own evils from places unknown using people that were kidnapped.  It’s unclear exactly how or why at the time, but we Runda have since learned that these individuals may have had something about their person necessary to awaken the creatures in some dark ceremony. 

Now, I may be getting ahead of myself again, and I want to come back to the story of the Ogham Stone and my Fairy Tree.  For it ‘twas the heroes that brought both their magic to life in the nick of time!  In great coincidence of fate, as the dutiful heroes sought clues as to the whereabouts of the missing people and the dragonborn, many of them found various small stones that were the missing pieces of the Ogham stone outside of the Forest Inn. Fate indeed! I would not have taken wagers on the likelihood of that happening at all, so I suspect it may be some invention of the Fates or the involvement of the Fairy Folk themselves.  Regardless, each of the missing pieces of the Ogham Stone were found and me and the rest of the Runda started to learn what we needed.  For the missing stones were the words sorely needed to complete our own ritual, calling upon the mystical powers of the Fairly Folk to awaken the magic within my own Fairy Tree itself!  The Fey Folk do like pomp and ceremony, especially when dealing with us mortals, so we Runda pulled together a ritual as none seen at the Forest Inn before…well, at least in my day.  Each hero was called forward to place a stone piece into the Ogham Stone and when place, we chanted the magic words.  Each of the words calling to us the listening Fairies.  They can be dastardly creatures themselves if provoked or made unhappy, but the allure of our ceremony must have tickled them enough to cooperate with our request.  For that is what they did!  When the last of the stones were placed into the Ogham Stone, and the last incantation chanted, the Fairy Tree’s magic was awakened!  Now, you may says ‘what kind of magic does the Fairy Tree have?’ and I would say to you ‘Weren’t you fecking paying attention to what I told you at the beginning of this tale??’  But as a gentle reminder to you in case you are a bit ‘thick’, The Fairy Trees are all connected to each other through ‘the ways’, and that then allows those who are trained in their use to jump from one Fairy Tree to another Fairy Tree, regardless of their distance apart, in the blink of an eye.  Now, if you recall, we knows that the Dragonborn are many, many weeks of travel away, for it appears that they returned to their Great Swamp.  There were indications that some of the Dragonborn traveled by unnatural means to quickly get to the Swamp.  I personally don’t believe it was through the ways, but it surely makes me wonder, and it makes me wonder how they were helped to do such a thing if such a thing be true!

Now, back to the true heroes of the story here…  Now that the Fairy Tree is sparkling away with its magic, ‘twas time for our heroes to make their way to the Great Swamp that lay south of the New Kingdoms, many, many miles away.  Ahhh, well, the good news was that that we Runda have traveled to many different lands in our day and know a number of other Fairy Trees by which we traveled through the ways.  Because we know of those trees, my little tree at the Forest Inn was used as the entry point and we knew exactly where to go to reach the other trees.  It be more like a map in our heads of the constellations. It is.  Jumping from one star to another, but in our case, it is through one Fairy Tree to another.  So, on each of we Runda led the party of heroes.  There were many locations to which they needed to each go so each of we Druids made more than one trip to and fro to get them through the ways to the other trees.

Aye, the Great Swamp is a miserable place.  Smelling of dead and dying plants, so humid that fish can near swim in the sky.  Not a place for one as me, but there are those that like that sort of thing.  So then, now that the heroes arrived in the different areas of the Great Swamp, their mission started on true as they say.  Each of the parties were dozens if not hundreds of miles apart from each other, as Fairy trees are not a common shrub as ye can imagine!  The objective of each group of heroes was to seek out those miserable cults and those shaman characters and put an end to their plots of calling forth some great deliverers or evils from who knows where they come.  Great dangers each of the groups of heroes faced, and for each, their goal was to disrupt the ceremony of the Dragonborn shaman and put an end to them once and for all. 

Now, the stories I’ve gathered over these past months have similarities that must be noted as I feel these common details are of great importance.  So now, as each of the party of heroes attempted to disrupt the rituals of the shaman.  Many of these rituals had a stone much described as that of my old friend, Ardyn.  They were tall black stones… obelisks as he called them.  Ancient runes swirled and changed on some of the stones.  Some heroes claim they saw runes bled upon the stone, others saw letters as black as the void, and others described great mist or even lightening emanating from the obelisks.  The Dragonborn shamans each read ancient incantations, some from the stones themselves, to summon the great beings from beyond.  Many times, the heroes found the kidnapped guild masters or other people being victimized in some way during the ceremony.  Some lay on altars, others bound to the obelisks, and yet others seemed to strangely take an active part in the rituals.  The parties did their best to disrupt these apparent summonings.  Those Dragonborn seduced with the power by these shaman were duped into believing they would summon ancient Dragonborn gods to aid them in some vengeful war against the New Kingdoms.  Many Dragonborn were slain as were some heroes nearly lost their lives.  Twas a messy thing indeed but that is why the heroes are all heroes.  Many of the kidnapped were rescued and brought back to the safety of the Forest Inn, and the former apprentices were now the heroes of many of their masters!  They have proven themselves to truly deserve to hold the title of Champions and defenders of light!  The Trial of Champions was one like no other.  These heroes faced great trials, punishments, and some even gave the ultimate sacrifice to save others.  Aye, they are true heroes through and through!

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Now, as it is, I wish the story ended there and that the story was one that ended as a fairy tale of old.  Although no powerful creatures were summoned or came forward, by all accounts, it truly seems as the Dragonborn failed in their attempts.  But the stories we heard seemed to tug at each of the Runda in different ways.  Over the past few months, our divinations suggest there is much more to the story.  Over the past months the druids of our circle returned to the Great Swamp to study the black stone obelisks and their writing.  We found each of the sites of the Dragonborn rituals.  Many of the bodies still remained as well as the altars.  Now, we don’t understand how, but we could find none of the obelisks. They were simply as gone.  Ahh, it’s a disturbing thing that we could not find them, but we are still searching.  Even more upsetting to all of us in our Circle is that we have learned that many, if not all of you, have been experiencing nightmarish dreams and have been experiencing other physical maladies which cannot be explained.  Our research and divinations suggest that the obelisks themselves might be the cause of your problems.  We have also learned that others who did not participate in the Trial of Champions are experiencing similar maladies.  Even more to this story is that they too have been in close proximity to such an obelisk described similarly to those that were in the Great Swamp.  These other obelisks were located in various locations and not in The Great Swamp.  One we heard reports of was in a small village square in the Kingdom of Overlance.  Another was in fallen in a field outside of the village of Poet’s Rest in Darian.  Several others were found as well around the new Kingdoms as well as one among the Durg of the west.  From those that told us of the runes, they seem all too similar to those upon the Ogham stone.  ‘Tis truly strange times we are in, and we Runda are more than a bit worried about what the future may be shaping to be.  Listen to the wind.  Listen to the rain.  Listen to the birds. We are calling you back.  Listen to our call.