Reflections - Event Epilogue
Below you can find a recap of all that transpired in Reflections, our first big game, recounted in a thematic, evocative manner appropriate to the Southern traditions.
It was almost three years after the Tenebran invasion, and just a few days before the summer solstice, that strangers visited the village of Kranéa in the Southlands.
Some had been drawn by the stories of the local Tenebran garrison having disappeared mysteriously, since the village itself had had no proper militia to speak of. Others had followed the rumors of a peculiar substance, which had reportedly started appearing in the area, and had been dubbed Tenebrium by the locals, due to its blackened hue. And there were also those, who had simply followed their instinct, the call to adventure… or just the movements of their rivals and enemies.
A lot of those who set foot in the village had no allegiance to a lord or a flag, but there were also colorful banners flying among the pine trees of Kranéa for the first time in many many years. The Order of the Sun: the Suntouched, the Tandriall Kingdom, the Norsemen, the Hjort clans, and the Cult of Alheima. Accompanied by the monster-hunting guild of the Stormchasers, who bear no banners, these were the factions which made camp around the village of Kranéa, oblivious to what would transpire and the legends they would help shape.
Day 1
Introductions & Welcomes
The strangers met the residents who still remained in Kranéa village, and slowly began to learn about their stories, their customs, and the various Guilds that are the cornerstones of society in the Southlands. Not all the villagers were friendly with the strangers at first, but all of them appeared to be oddly yet inexplicably familiar with their past, and even their names in some cases, even though this was the first time they were laying eyes upon each other… or was it?
• • •
A lot of the villagers kept the tradition of the Eight Guilds alive in the village, and the strangers embraced them with enthusiasm. Commerce, artistry, scholarly debate… The Sancted Ones must have been smiling for sure as they saw life breathe back into the village.
• • •
A lot of the villagers kept the tradition of the Eight Guilds alive in the village, and the strangers embraced them with enthusiasm. Commerce, artistry, scholarly debate… The Sancted Ones must have been smiling for sure as they saw life breathe back into the village.
Heroes of Old
Undead figures started prowling throughout the area around midday, and to the horror of the villagers they were confirmed to resemble the Olde Heroes of local legend. There was something wrong with them, as their image was twisted and their words laced with fury. The strangers treated the Olde Heroes with the respect and honor that their names demanded, even though some of them were too bashful for their own good, while others started looking more intensely into the local folktales. Perhaps answers about what had gone wrong were hiding between the lyrics of poems and songs.
Alas, Respect turned to Regret as the Olde Heroes — as if answering a cosmic call — turned violent and congregated to a portal to the southernmost edge of the village. There the true mastermind of the undead return of the Olde Heroes was revealed: the Corrupt Witch Circe; once a promising young mage of the community and daughter of Edward, the war veteran who ran the Bastion in the village. She had been corrupted by the Tenebrium that was seeping out of the area, and in her madness turned the Olde Heroes into puppets of her evil designs. She offered Tenebrium to any who were willing to join her in her quest to “unite” the land.
Unfortunately, there was no hope of saving her soul and fixing her mistakes, so the hands of the strangers were forced to put both the Olde Heroes and the Corrupt Witch to rest once and for all. The body of Circe was brought to Edward in the village, and the story was no longer about a Corrupt Witch who had raised the twisted image of the fabled Olde Heroes in a dark scheme; it was about a father mourning the loss of his daughter.
Alas, Respect turned to Regret as the Olde Heroes — as if answering a cosmic call — turned violent and congregated to a portal to the southernmost edge of the village. There the true mastermind of the undead return of the Olde Heroes was revealed: the Corrupt Witch Circe; once a promising young mage of the community and daughter of Edward, the war veteran who ran the Bastion in the village. She had been corrupted by the Tenebrium that was seeping out of the area, and in her madness turned the Olde Heroes into puppets of her evil designs. She offered Tenebrium to any who were willing to join her in her quest to “unite” the land.
Unfortunately, there was no hope of saving her soul and fixing her mistakes, so the hands of the strangers were forced to put both the Olde Heroes and the Corrupt Witch to rest once and for all. The body of Circe was brought to Edward in the village, and the story was no longer about a Corrupt Witch who had raised the twisted image of the fabled Olde Heroes in a dark scheme; it was about a father mourning the loss of his daughter.
Orion's Book of Monsters
During the expedition to confront Circe and her designs, a group of intrepid adventurers ventured into the wilderness and recovered a precious item, which the Master of the Hunt, Sirius, recognised immediately as authentic when it was brought to him: Orion’s Book of Monsters, a collection of notes on monstrous creatures penned by one of the most legendary monster hunters in the South. An invaluable source of knowledge, which would surely prove useful in the future of anyone who would choose to follow the path of the Dragoon.
Regret, Sin, and Neglect
As the sun started getting lower in the sky and the villagers together with the strangers wondered whether more legends of old would rise up to haunt them, enigmatic figures appeared out of the deep wood and started swiftly moving through the populace, as if following their own unknowable agenda. Their appearance made several people yell out “Tenebrans!!” at first, but their eldritch nature was quickly revealed. Eye-like growths were on their black masks and no blade could harm them. They were almost intangible, but not really. They were the Jury, and they pestered random strangers, inquiring about their Regrets, their Sins, and their Neglects. Those who faced the eldritch abominations with honesty received praise and enigmatic gifts, while those who tried to worm their way out of it received a knife to the ribs. Numerous ones.
And just as they had appeared, they were gone.
And just as they had appeared, they were gone.
Darkness & Respite
Night fell right and proper and uneasiness wormed its way into everyone’s head. Too many legends that were supposed to be children’s tales were coming true for the day to end like that.
And sure enough, with a fluttering of a black cloak and the silent determination of darkness, Alimonos himself, fear incarnate descended upon the village, declaring himself their executioner.
There was chaos, violence, and screams. The Shadows of Alimonos were swift and deadly, each one like a finger of a cruel, unforgiving hand. Many were felled, but in the end the strangers came together and hope won against fear. The light of Kranéa was not snuffed out.
• • •
After the injured had been offered the care they needed, Mayor Aeneas called for a gathering around the village bonfire, where he recounted all that the strangers had done for the village in such a short time. He assured them that the Sancted Ones would surely look upon their actions with approval, and that for him and his fellow villagers they were not simply strangers anymore, but heroes themselves.
He then called for anyone who wanted to, to step forward and offer something to the bonfire and — as the custom goes — to the Sancted Ones; a story, an achievement, a material offering… Anything that would tie their story to the land. And so some of them did, and the night came to a close in camaraderie and copious drinks at the tavern.
And sure enough, with a fluttering of a black cloak and the silent determination of darkness, Alimonos himself, fear incarnate descended upon the village, declaring himself their executioner.
There was chaos, violence, and screams. The Shadows of Alimonos were swift and deadly, each one like a finger of a cruel, unforgiving hand. Many were felled, but in the end the strangers came together and hope won against fear. The light of Kranéa was not snuffed out.
• • •
After the injured had been offered the care they needed, Mayor Aeneas called for a gathering around the village bonfire, where he recounted all that the strangers had done for the village in such a short time. He assured them that the Sancted Ones would surely look upon their actions with approval, and that for him and his fellow villagers they were not simply strangers anymore, but heroes themselves.
He then called for anyone who wanted to, to step forward and offer something to the bonfire and — as the custom goes — to the Sancted Ones; a story, an achievement, a material offering… Anything that would tie their story to the land. And so some of them did, and the night came to a close in camaraderie and copious drinks at the tavern.
Day 2
Of Flags & Banners
Morning came to forest village of Kranéa, and everyone was greeted by quite a unique sight: banners from the camps of the Tandrialls, the Suntouched, the Norsemen, and Alheima were lying burned around the central bonfire.
Who was behind such a display of disrespect, and for what reason?
Who was behind such a display of disrespect, and for what reason?
So That Others May Die
Political espionage aside, a lot of the travellers and adventurers went about their new-found friendships and pursuits, while some of them answered the call of the Bastion and decided to rekindle the tradition of honouring the Champion through competition.
Thus, wargames were organised to test their mettle and ability. Teams were formed, rules were agreed upon, and by the end of the games the Norsemen and the Suntouched received the Charm of Protection, while also being hailed as honorary protectors of the village. May the Champion bless them to protect what is worth protecting.
Thus, wargames were organised to test their mettle and ability. Teams were formed, rules were agreed upon, and by the end of the games the Norsemen and the Suntouched received the Charm of Protection, while also being hailed as honorary protectors of the village. May the Champion bless them to protect what is worth protecting.
Reflections
As the day progressed, oddly familiar figures appeared out of the forest and walked among the villagers and the travellers. General Nethrazim of the Emerald Thorn, Scythe the First Chosen of the God Death, Lord Charold Shadowstriker, and Elion the Grand Protector, a legendary hero of the Tandrialls. All of them were there, but they were twisted, cruel reflections of the men they once were, out to torment the living and push them to the edge.
Later proven to be Einsam monstrosities, it was discovered that they had come out of a mysterious mirror. The Mirror was eventually retrieved by the heroes in order to be studied and investigated — but alas! — it was lost to the Fey and their trickery, probably never to be seen again.
Later proven to be Einsam monstrosities, it was discovered that they had come out of a mysterious mirror. The Mirror was eventually retrieved by the heroes in order to be studied and investigated — but alas! — it was lost to the Fey and their trickery, probably never to be seen again.
Tenebrous Research
Those who had answered the call of scholarly endeavours had been working closely with Ilya of the Athenaeum to uncover the secrets of what little Tenebrium had been secured through the conflict with Circe the previous day, and managed to produce results!
Everyone’s fears got confirmed: Tenebrium is highly corrosive in ways far outside traditional alchemy. It can infect living things and give them abilities and properties defying human logic, while at the same time altering their mental faculties and possibly slowly turning them into something else entirely. Now it is up to the heroes to decide if they want to find a way to cleanse the Southlands completely of the Tenebrium infection, or attempt to figure out ways to refine and use the substance in order to gain new tools and options.
Thankfully, through experimentation, it was proven that Holy Water (not Rosewater) is able to purify and cleanse the effects of Tenebrium completely.
Everyone’s fears got confirmed: Tenebrium is highly corrosive in ways far outside traditional alchemy. It can infect living things and give them abilities and properties defying human logic, while at the same time altering their mental faculties and possibly slowly turning them into something else entirely. Now it is up to the heroes to decide if they want to find a way to cleanse the Southlands completely of the Tenebrium infection, or attempt to figure out ways to refine and use the substance in order to gain new tools and options.
Thankfully, through experimentation, it was proven that Holy Water (not Rosewater) is able to purify and cleanse the effects of Tenebrium completely.
The Day the Sun Died
And just when everyone agreed with a soft laugh that they had had enough of myths coming to life, some say that they saw a nondescript hooded stranger appear and approach Naveron, the Meister of the Suntouched, and offer him an axe and an unusual coin.
Theris, the Sancted One of the Hunt and of Death had blessed Naveron, and had granted him but one objective.
“Kill the sun.”
Discord broke out in the ranks of the Suntouched, and the rest of the strangers talked among themselves in uneasy tones. There were those who had been studying the omens and the mysterious signs that had been appearing throughout the forest those two days, and they were certain that something terrible would soon descend upon the village of Kranéa: the Hounds of Theris, heralds of his fury and bringers of death.
While the rest tried to make plans about dealing with the imminent appearance of the Hounds, the Suntouched removed their traditional tabards, took down any banner depicting the sun in their camp, and set out to snuff out all light sources in the village and the forest. All in their mysterious objective of killing the sun.
Uneasiness grew and there were whispers of banding up to stop Suntouched from achieving their enigmatic goal, but in the end nobody got in their way, and as the last lantern in the village was snuffed out, clouds covered the sun on that summer day and a downpour of rain began, forcing everyone to look for shelter.
And from within the sound of rain, there was howling.
The Hounds of Theris appeared, howling about bringing an end to all those who defied their master. But what the Hounds were met with was not a village scared and divided, but heroes having made plans to fight them off together, and among them a mortal man who was bearing the Axe and Mantle of their master.
The sun had been slain by the hand of the Suntouched themselves. The natural order of things would be allowed to continue, and in the morning the sun would be born anew. But the strangers would not be around to witness all the wondrous ways in which their actions had altered the village of Kranéa forever.
Theris, the Sancted One of the Hunt and of Death had blessed Naveron, and had granted him but one objective.
“Kill the sun.”
Discord broke out in the ranks of the Suntouched, and the rest of the strangers talked among themselves in uneasy tones. There were those who had been studying the omens and the mysterious signs that had been appearing throughout the forest those two days, and they were certain that something terrible would soon descend upon the village of Kranéa: the Hounds of Theris, heralds of his fury and bringers of death.
While the rest tried to make plans about dealing with the imminent appearance of the Hounds, the Suntouched removed their traditional tabards, took down any banner depicting the sun in their camp, and set out to snuff out all light sources in the village and the forest. All in their mysterious objective of killing the sun.
Uneasiness grew and there were whispers of banding up to stop Suntouched from achieving their enigmatic goal, but in the end nobody got in their way, and as the last lantern in the village was snuffed out, clouds covered the sun on that summer day and a downpour of rain began, forcing everyone to look for shelter.
And from within the sound of rain, there was howling.
The Hounds of Theris appeared, howling about bringing an end to all those who defied their master. But what the Hounds were met with was not a village scared and divided, but heroes having made plans to fight them off together, and among them a mortal man who was bearing the Axe and Mantle of their master.
The sun had been slain by the hand of the Suntouched themselves. The natural order of things would be allowed to continue, and in the morning the sun would be born anew. But the strangers would not be around to witness all the wondrous ways in which their actions had altered the village of Kranéa forever.