Each summons was delivered by one of the Royal Guard of Haven. All were written in the flowing hand of the kingdom’s ruler, the Princess Argenta.

Some were urgent requests to powerful leaders, pleas to send the most capable of their number to aid Haven in a matter of great urgency. They were sent to the elves of the Gray Forests, the wilderness that mingled with the realm of the Fae; to the wizard’s guild in the southern city of Ancelas, to the Temple of Amun Tor in the foothills of the Thunder Mountains; and, most boldly, to the leader of Haven’s thieves guild, in her well guarded hideout in the northern moors.

Other summons named the ones sought, adventurers who had aided the Kingdom of Haven in one of its darkest hours, brave souls who had faced terrible foes in order to see the Princess and her subjects freed from the grip of darkness.

One by one, the summons were answered. As each arrived at the white marble palace of Haven’s court, they were given quarters and treated as honored guests. When all of the courageous adventurers had found their way there, Princess Argenta asked that they meet with her, not within the strict formality of her throne room, but in the quiet serenity of the gardens.

Seated alone with a single guard at watch, it is immediately plain that the princess is troubled.

”I am indebted to each of you for your answering my call,” she says, rising from her seat as the adventurers arrive, ”Well met, one and all. I truly wish that our meeting was for a different purpose. A council...or a celebration. But as each of you know, I am in need to your help. And it is no small task that I would ask of you.”

She turns, gesturing to the rolling hills to the north, beyond the walls of the garden. ”Some of you, I am certain, are well traveled, and may have had cause to visit the valley Kingdom of Wendar. When I was still a child, Haven and Wendar formed a trade alliance that still endures. The route that our merchants use is travelled almost every day, and the goods that we exchange have been a boon to both our kingdoms, as well as to several of the realms that lie between us.”

“Gylharen, the wizard king of Wendar, is a just ruler, and a wise man. He has always placed the welfare of his people above all else in the decisions that he makes. He has forsaken commitments that would have brought him great wealth in favor of the well being of those he leads.”

She frowns. ”In recent seasons, trade with Wendar has slowed. Greatly. I had become so concerned that I was preparing to send envoys to Gylharen to inquire about the state of things in his kingdom. Before I could, I received a letter from him.”

She sighs, crossing her arms. ”Gylharen spoke of a great evil that threatens his realm. A power from the north that has managed to strip away some of the magical protection that kept Wendar safe. He does not fully understand the nature of the threat, but he knows that it comes from beyond the peaks that lay north of his lands, from a barren land called Denagoth. Gylharen wrote that he had felt certain that the evil within that place had been vanquished long ago, by himself and the warriors of his garrison. But now, somehow, it has awakened again.”

“He has pled for help, which is why I have asked for each of you to come. I know it is a terrible request, asking you to venture out to discover what evil threatens an ally, and to vanquish it, but I have every reason to believe that if any are capable of doing so, it would be you who are gathered here.”

“I have spoken with other kingdoms that are friendly to Wendar. Glantri, the Ethengar Khanate, the Heldann Freeholds, Drairis. All have been willing to add to the reward that I can offer you for your help. Five thousand gold to each of you who will go to Gylharen’s aid.”

After witnessing the devastation of the red mists, Jayanti had returned to the welcoming verdant embrace of the Elven lands. From there she boarded a ship and joined her crew in exploring the world. She'd rescued a Minrothradi merchant ship from pirates, and she'd unraveled the ancient mysteries of the spiraling towers of the Quagmire.

She'd returned home with better equipment and a thicker spellbook, just in time to be summoned back to Haven again.

"Of course, Your Grace. As before, my blade and magic are at your bidding."

A very tall and powerfully built Elf stepped forward and bowed low to the Princess.  He wore black robes trimmed with crimson and gold over a set of Baroque Plate armor.  His hair was blonde and his eyes sparkled like the amethysts they resembled and upon his back was a large battle blade of ancient make.

He spoke "Long have my people fought Evil, your Highness. Though we seldom venture outside our rightful lands we are always ready to help an Ally at need.  It is the way of House Hawkfire and its sons."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:34, Thu 13 June 2019.

Tall and ram-rod straight, with golden hair now closely cropped, comes Greyband. He strides in bearing a well-shined suit of armor. At his hip is a well-made scabbard in which sits a magnificent sword--Brand, some men called it, though Greyband has other pet names for it. He has slain many a fell beast in the last several years, and his face bears the lines.

He strides forward as he enters, bows deeply and kisses the princess' ring before returning to his normal standing position, smiling warmly at the princess.



Greyband nods appreciatively. "Very generous, your highness," he says with a bow.



Greyband grins at his former companion, bowing deeply at her, before bowing in turn to the princess. "And I and my magic blade are at your bidding," he adds, clearly enjoying the play at words with Jayanti.

As Jarder worked his way toward the palace he wondered if this was some sort of elaborate trap set for him by one of his rivals.  He was after all a cutpurse and a wanted man in some parts.

Thinking back on how he got here he was still in a bit of disbelief.  The Master of 'The Golden Circle' (a Thieves Guild) had summoned him and told him that the Guild has been asked for assistance. In a private sessions with his Master, Jarder was shown the letter from Princess Argenta to a mans name he didn't recognize pleading for help and asking for assistance.  It was explained to Jarder that in his Masters younger days he had 'adventured' with Argenta's father.  He owed a debt to the Princesses father- The Guild master told Jarder that as one his best lockpicks-he would be the assistance requested.

So Jarder found himself approaching the gates of Haven-walking right into the belly of Law Enforcement.  Showing the note he half expected to be arrested but was instead hurriedly brought to the court in front of Princess Argenta.  The wealth and opulence shocked him a bit and he found his eyes wandering the room, but the words of his Guild master came back to him-he was to 'touch' nothing of value from the Palace, the city of Haven and anyone he traveled with on behalf of the Princess.

When it was his turn Jarder bowed low and uttered the words he had been told to say: "I have been sent on behalf of the Golden Circle to answer your call."

This message was last edited by the player at 01:27, Sat 15 June 2019.

Orin tsked beneath his beard as the assembled heroes gathered in the garden, garbed as though the battle was about to begin.  He knew some, though the towering Greyband appeared to carry more lines on his face than the dwarf remembered and even Jayanti appeared more seasoned, if it was even possible to tell with an elf.  His own face was as craggy and bush-covered as ever, leaving him the appearance of one eternally but indeterminately aged.  Maybe that was where the wisdom came from to not sport a heavy metal can as attire for a princess.  Instead he was clad in relatively fine robes, such as a well-off merchant might wear.

"You know the Lords of the Thunder Mountains will honour your call for aid, Princess," Orin said when the opportunity arose, his voice as gruff and fatherly as ever.  "I am proud to be their representative in your court yet again."  A grin split the shaggy beard and a fond twinkle stirred in Orin's blue eyes.

The dwarf had been a regular visitor to Haven's court since the evil of the red gem had been vanquished.  At first it was his sense of duty over the cursed dwarven gift, but later he had come to enjoy the company of the princess and her court, especially the wizard and his 'little' cat.  He'd found a way to become the dwarven emissary to Haven quite some time ago and considered most of the court members as his responsibility to mentor and guide along the path to maturity.  Fortunately for Orin, they humoured him in this gentle delusion.

"I am glad to see stout heroes will join me, both old friends and new," he added to those gathered, favouring each with a smile and nod of greeting.  There would be time after the audience to renew old acquaintances and make new ones.

Neukem Orulto listens politely to the pious responses of his soon-to-be comrades, allowing the smallest, sharpest sliver of amusement to show on his face.  At last, he chimes in, sounding his own discordant note.

“Such noble sentiments... if only my own heart were filled with such poetry!  But alas, my motives are far baser, and I see no point to concealing them.  I am here for the gold, and the promise of spoils, and for the purpose of self-aggrandizement.  And because my people have had enough of me.  For I am a far greater evil than anything which lies in Denagoth.  Nonetheless, you may depend on me to do my utmost in furtherance of this crusade, so long as I may expect a just portion of the reward.  In the meantime, you will also be doing the world a favor by keeping me out of trouble.  They say, to fight fire, send fire.  That is what you are doing by including me in this most excellent venture.”


His nanny had always told him that honesty was the best policy.  Time to find out if she was right!
This message was last edited by the player at 02:05, Sun 16 June 2019.

There came a knock, five simple taps of wood on wood. The door was opened briefly and another person was allowed into the chamber with the Princess at her gesture and nod. Hooded in a cloak of indeterminable color or design, walked a tall figure with steps that seemed deliberate and chosen. The soft tap of a wooden staff upon the stone floor accompanied the slight slapping of worn leather soles as the figure moved to join the rest of the newly forming group.

As the figure came fully into the light, the strange and tattered garment was revealed in further detail. It was as if, perhaps, nothing remained of the original cloak but a few threads, for it was a myriad of colored bits of cloth, pieced together and sewn one atop another in a fashion completely random and seemingly without forethought. Not so much a haphazard layout, but simply one repair after another, after another, after another until it was impossible to see where it all began or ended!

The footfalls stopped as did the movement of an aged white staff, upon which was carved strange runes and tied with dangling talismans. It was a simple thing really, but the gnarled hand which held it did so in a way that conveyed a fondness and familiarity almost bordering on reverence.

On a simple leather cord around the figure's neck was a hand-made symbol crafted from cast-off bits of old harness leather and in the shape of the Great Enigma, marking the wearer as one of the eccentric priests of the God of Mysteries and Riddles...

"What denies the kiss of winter air? Binds and fills and covers and mends? Free but of great worth when placed just so? Both worn and worn?"

The figure reached up and pulled the cloak's colorful hood back to reveal features that were utterly unremarkable save for an amused curl at the corners of his mouth and a twinkle in eyes that laughed at an un-uttered jest.

"A patch." he said in a voice brimming with mirth but tinged with sorrow. "I'm simply called Patch." An odd introduction, but then again, the priesthood of Amun Tor was an odd lot after all...

"Your grace, I come at the behest of my Abbey, your summons was indeed cryptic and the subject of ongoing speculation... my brethren are still discussing it even now. The bones were cast and mine own was to be the honor of pursuing the answer. I suppose this means that I am at, and in, your service until this Question comes to Resolution. May Amun Tor smile upon us? Perhaps... perhaps."

The Princess listens to each response to her request, clearly pleased that the gathered adventurers are willing to lend Wendar aid. ”I am thankful for your brave assistance,” she says, her attention briefly going to the wizard, Orulto, ”whatever your motivations.”

“My soldiers have gathered some of their finest steeds for your use. I have had provisions made for your journey. My guard will see you north, to the border of Haven, and provide you a map for the remainder of your journey to Wendar. You will be traveling through friendly holdings, so I do not anticipate that your journey will be perilous.”

“Make haste to return as soon as you are able. I have every confidence that you will free Gylharen and his people from the danger that besieges them.”

The northward journey lasts several days, the adventurers following the traders’ road from Haven. The trek takes them through the rich grasslands and wide swamps of the Ethengar Khanate, into the rolling hills of the Heldann Freeholds. Those they meet along the path are friendly, most of them merchants, farmers, or trappers moving goods from one township to another. Although precautions are taken in case wild beasts, or the occasional band of roving orcs or goblins, are encountered, the trip is uneventful, mercifully free of danger.

But upon crossing into the valley that is home to Wendar, each of the adventurers can sense a change. Fields are untended, some choked with weeds. Homesteads are neglected, many clearly the victims of poverty. Here and there, a house has been pillaged and, in a few instances, burned to the ground.

Passing through the gates of the capital city, the company can see that conditions are much the same. Several children approach the mounted group as they enter, begging for coin. Although the adventurers can perceive that the capital was once a place of splendor, the squalor that has overtaken it gives it the appearance of a settlement under siege. Disaffected roam the streets and the craftsmen and workers who are fortunate enough to have some manner of livelihood all have dour countenances, their demeanor watchful and afraid.

The citadel, where Gylharen rules from, is easily seen; a stone structure with tall spires that stretch up into the gray sky. As the company carefully make their way toward it, they encounter a pair of soldiers breaking up a fight between two group of angry vegetable merchants. As the hostilities are settled, one of the men at arms notices the adventurers and approaches them, addressing the group politely. ”Afternoon to you. Forgive me for sayin’ so, but we’ve not seen anyone of your like in many moons. What brings you to Wendar?”

As fate would have it, the shortest of the provided mounts was to be the lot of the tall cleric. Though tall, nearly a head taller than the average human, Patch carried little weight upon that frame. His arms seemed overly long, his feet were large, and his neck seemed to have been stretched and punctuated by a very pointed adam's apple. The horse certainly wasn't burdened overly by the man's weight so much as the awkwardness of his length. As it turned out, Patch had only shift his hips a little and stretch his toes to touch the ground and dismount. This he did as he fished into the depths of raggedy patches that was his worn cloak.

"Here children," he said in a quiet voice, holding a few small coins. As they approached him, he placed two or three in each outstretched hand. The priest's face was shadowed by a broad-brimmed hat which had certainly seen better days, so it was difficult to tell if there was an expression of compassion on his face, or one of simple pragmatism. The children would now see him as a friend.

Arising to his feet and raising himself to his full height, Patch ignored the soldiers and took a look around at the scene before them. He paid particular attention to the eyes and mannerisms of the merchants. He walked over to them, positioning himself equally between the groups with those deliberate steps.

"Tell me, what is done with the waste each day, what do you do with the spoils and that which cannot be sold?"

The elf gives a short bow to the men-at-arms.

"Gentlemen...Princess Haven of Argenta has dispatched us this way to come to the aid of your  king."

The Elf had enjoyed the long trip up till now.  He was used to defending his homeland and had not had much time over the last century to travel extensively.  Given the nature of the Princess' call for allies had given him the excuse he had long sought to see the world.

Killian smiled at the guards and bit back his first thought of saying "horses" as his blithe answer.  Seeing that Jayanti had taken the lead in addressing the men-at-arms he instead turned his attention to Patch.

  A free horse?!?  Perhaps his Master was onto something after all.  Finding a nice black stallion, Jarder filled the saddle bag with food from the princess and wineskins...lots of wine skins.  On the way north, he takes in his new travelling companions around him and engages in pleasant conversation getting to know a bit about them.

  Once they reach the capital city he breathes a sigh of relief; not one for roughing it on the ground, he fancies himself a good night in a good inn.  Not really one for talking with guards, he stays toward in the back off to one side keeping an eye on the surrounding areas.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:10, Tue 18 June 2019.

The mage eyes the children disdainfully, then turns his attention to the guards.

“As we are here on royal business, perhaps you should take us to your king at once?  The less said of our business in public, the better.  You never know where spies may be found.”

Greyband was quite lively at the start of the journey, talking freely with his former companions Jayanti and Orin and chatting with the others. As the signs of devastation betrayed themselves, however, he grew more and more reticent. In the city, he, like Patch, made a point of giving silver pieces to the children who asked and speaking kind words to whomever he could.



Greyband nods solemnly in agreement with this, making sure his Argentan seal can be seen on his armor.



Greyband shoots the wizard a look and turns to the guard. "Apologies for my companion's rudeness. As my friend the elf said, we have been sent to provide aid by Princess Argenta. To whom in a position of authority may we speak?"

Orin's grimaced at Neuken's tone and hoped the guards wouldn't be too offended to help them.  From the air about the city, he doubted many were in a mood to go out of their way for anyone but themselves.  Hard times tended to do that to people, make them withdraw from others and jealousy think of themselves ahead of all.

With several of the group already directly engaging the guard in conversation Orin found himself near Jarder and had found him an engaging sort over their travels, making him the perfect one to exchange whispers with.  "Rough lookin' town, eh lad?  You can see where it used ta be nice, but now," the dwarf just shook his head sadly.

One of the merchants shakes his head at Patch’s question, gesturing to the refuse strewn streets. ”Doesn’t take much for us to sell all we have. Food’s gotten scarce of late, what with the drought that’s come upon the valley, and the trade haltin’. Most of what we get comes from locals. We have any left, we pass it to the orphanage near the citadel. Make sure the young un’s have somethin’ to put in their bellies.”

The guardsman’s eyes widen as he grasps where the visitors have come from, swallowing hard at Orulto’s admonition. ”From Haven? Truly? Then you’re an answer to many prayers. The king, Gylharen, I’m certain he’ll want to see you at once.”

He starts off down the street, in the direction of the stronghold at the city’s center, a pair of other soldiers falling in beside him. ”This way, please,” he tells the adventurers, motioning for them to follow.

The adventurers have the sense that the Citadel of Wendar was once a place that was full of life and activity, but now its vaulted halls sit dusty and silent, occupied only by a small garrison of soldiers. The company’s guide inquires after the king’s whereabouts with his fellow guardsmen and is directed to the library.

The citadel’s circular library is impressive, stretching almost three stories in height, virtually all of the wall space covered in shelves laden with tomes and scrolls, stairs and balconies allowing access to the collections above. Many of the holdings are ancient, from the look of them. In the center of the floor is a wide table, upon which are spread a pair of maps and numerous books. Leaning over the table, studying one of the maps intently is a man in a dark blue robe. His gray beard is trimmed neatly and his eyes are marked with dark circles, evidence of sleeplessness that explains his wearied demeanor.

”Sire,” the guardsman announces, ”these are champions sent to aid us from the Kingdom of Haven. The Princess Argenta, she has heeded your call for help.”

The king looks up from his studies, blinking in surprise. ”I cannot believe it. I thought our requests had fallen on deaf ears, or never even reached those neighbors we call friends. Be welcome here, adventurers! To say that I am glad you have come does not adequately express the relief I feel at your arrival.”

Gylharen, King of Wendar, approaches the company. ”Are you truly here to place your talents in the service of our faltering kingdom? If you could somehow return the stone, Elvenstar, to its rightful place among us, we...we would be safe once again. Not forced to live in fear of what darkness lies to the north. I cannot dare imagine that it could be so.”

“That is why we have come, your Highness.  If you can ever get me out of this library, that is.  What a magnificent collection!”

He casts his thirsty gaze on the vast gathering of wizened books and scrolls, wishing he had a few decades to spare.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:50, Fri 21 June 2019.