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Friday, August 11

  1. page July 266 edited While the southern end of Mardrun enjoyed a rather quiet month with little going on of note, the n…
    While the southern end of Mardrun enjoyed a rather quiet month with little going on of note, the northern end of the continent was filled with activity and most of it revolving around the Mordok. With Clan Riverhead territory now fully occupied by Mordok forces, many clans have started to stockpile resources, train warriors and units, and seek to guidance from the Daughters on what they should do next. Many are told to prepare, others are told to try and change the tide, others even recommend taking the fight to the Mordok. But one thing is certain, the Ulven in the northern clans are working overtime to prepare for both winter and the oncoming storm they fear, or even desire.
    At the market fair, Wargah Grimward, daughter of the Clanleader of Clan Grimward came to seek the reason as to why the honorbound citizens to Clan Nightriver have been disappearing. If her claims are to be believed, this action has continued for some time and Grimward’s efforts to locate them have gone unanswered and unaided. She wasn’t the only representative seen in Nightriver territory or in the colonies. Representatives were seen entering Clan Nightriver lands with grim looks upon their faces, and asking all those they came across for information relating to this issue. There were few who could give answers, and even more who didn’t know that the honor bound Ulven have been missing.
    On a related note, it seems that Holmar Bloodmoon has gained a substantial following of supporters from both within Clan Nightriver and those from outside. Holmar was seen welcoming the Grimward representatives into his home, offering them whatever aid he could provide to help them find their missing clan members. Some are saying this was a bold move for Holmar, who is not a Clan Leader, but also see it as taking initiative on an issue that been seemingly pushed aside by Branthur Nightriver since it was brought to his attention.
    Word from Clan Ironmound is that of industry and war, for the entire clan is now preparing for what seems to be the end of days. Smithies work around the clock, mines are working in overtime to provide ore, trainers are working tirelessly to train new and old warriors alike. To top all of this, Gustav Ironmound gave a speech to his pack leaders. He asked they work together, fight smart, and seek and spread the word that the clans need to unite now more than ever, or the Mordok will win in whatever sick plan they have schemed for the Ulven people.
    Doom and gloom are not the only feelings to be found in the northern side of Mardrun though. Aylin’s Reach had a sudden increase of colonist’s coming from the main colony in New Aldoria. With the sudden burst of citizens, many are wondering what is going on to cause it. Some say the Prince secretly started a campaign to migrate all his citizens to the newly acquired land. Others suggest that maybe New Hope is taxing the citizens of New Aldoria colony too much. Whatever the reason may be, the expansion of Aylin’s Reach settlement seems to be booming with activity and expansion.

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  2. page Mardrun News & Rumors edited ... April 266 May 266 June 266 July 266
    April 266
    May 266
    June 266
    July 266

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  3. page Character Bios edited ... Leon Beldwick - Rogue Haralt Von Khun-Wolff - Warrior Cordyn Lockwell - Warrior Syndar M…
    Leon Beldwick - Rogue
    Haralt Von Khun-Wolff - Warrior
    Cordyn Lockwell - Warrior
    Magrat Farwalker - Cleric
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  4. page Cordyn Lockwell edited PLAYED BY: Cody Jackson GENDER: Male CLASS: Warrior AGE: 26 RACE: Human HAIR: Brown EYES: Br…
    PLAYED BY: Cody Jackson
    GENDER: Male
    CLASS: Warrior
    AGE: 26
    RACE: Human
    HAIR: Brown
    EYES: Brown
    OCCUPATION: Former Caravan Guard turned “Adventurer”
    KNOWN SKILLS: General Outdoor Survival and light Herbalism
    BIRTHPLACE: Vandregon
    RELATIONSHIPS: Traveling Companion with Gwynevive Cotorelle
    RUMORS: Not much to say. He hasn't made any name for himself yet.
    The True History of Cordyn Lockwell
    Part One: On Caravans and Backstories
    Year: 261 (21 Years Old)
    Cordyn quietly walked next to the ornate covered cart, absentmindedly fiddling with the strap keeping his shield secured to his back. He'd long forgotten about the dull ache in his feet from his worn boots on the hard dirt roads. It had been a few days since they had seen much more than a small shanty town and he'd yet to find a leather-worker or a cobbler able to make him a new pair of shoes that wouldn't have fallen apart within a week of hardship that he put his footwear through.
    A sudden voice snapped Cordyn out of his day dreaming as a man came stamping up from behind the wagon. He was easily ten to fifteen years older than Cordyn and was dressed in fine clothes that showed his merchant status even through the thick coat of road dust that he had accumulated in his traveling.
    “I'm getting so damned sick of these travel rations! Gods among us what I wouldn't give for a real meal!” The man threw a small, dense nut bar into the dirt and Cordyn cracked a small smile.
    “Oh Vistero, do you ever stop complaining?” Cordyn chided, picking up the bar and tucking it into a pouch on his belt.
    “Oh, you aren't really going to save that, are you?” Vistero asked in faux disbelief. He already knew the answer, and Cordyn already knew his retort.
    “Well you know, I wouldn't have to if you paid me better.”
    “And you know damn well that I pay you far more than you're worth as a sell-sword, Cordyn. You know if I didn't like you so much, I would have stopped paying for your services after your first contract was up years ago!” Vistero snapped playfully while Cordyn imitated him using his hand as a puppet. “Hey! Stop that! You're a lousy swordsman, you know that, right?”
    “I'd say I'm a mite better than you are, Vistero.” Both men smiled for a moment before Vistero's face grew slightly more serious.
    “You know. We've been traveling together for five years and you've never told me about how you came to be on that boat where we met. Now I know all about the part where I told you that you had a nice sword and you told me that it was for sale. We had a lovely little misunderstanding and that's how you came into my employ. But how did you end up on that ship with that sword in the first place?”
    Cordyn's face hardened slightly. It was hard to think of what his life had been on Faedrun and how everything changed so quickly. He had spent most of his time in Mardrun assuming his family was still alive back in the old world. That maybe the undead scourge hadn't touched them somehow. It became harder and harder, however, to ignore the chatter that Vandregon and Aldoria had been crushed and that Faedrun as he had known it was no more. Still, maybe it would help him to talk about it.
    “Well. I guess I might as well tell you. I was born in a small village in Vandregon outside of the capitol...”
    Our village was barely a drop of ink on the map. Not many people passed through, and those who did tended not to bother to stop. Now before you get ahead of yourself, this isn't one of those stories where my little village was beset by marauders and I, as the lone survivor, picked up my father's sword and swore vengeance upon my enemies. If that were the case, I'd hope I would be a better swordsman. No, while this story may be sad, it's nowhere near as dramatic.
    I had a happy childhood. We heard whispers about the undead plague, but our little hamlet seemed to be in a world of its own away from it all. My father was a farmer. He grew mostly grains for breads and beers, but he grew enough vegetables to help keep the village running as well. My mother was a seamstress. First by necessity; farmers and adolescent boys tend to wear through their clothes rather quickly, but later by trade when her handiwork was seen throughout the village. Things were good. They were quiet. When I was around twelve I started to spend time with the apothecary, making runs into the woods for reagents and portioning them out for the apothecary to mix into salves and potions. I'd spend my time in the forests pretending to be a sword wielding adventurer as I plucked morels and roots. I would always stop by the blacksmith's shop on my way out to look at the swords in the windows. I think my father took notice.
    It wasn't for a few more years that we would even start to feel like there was really something going wrong outside of our little bubble. When I was sixteen my father gave me this sword and enough money to book passage on a ship to Mardrun. He knew something was coming and we didn't have enough money for us all to get out. I didn't want to leave. I wanted to stay and be with my family, but he wouldn't take no for an answer. He told me that when I get to New Hope if I ever needed money to sell the sword. It was supposed to be a gift when I turned seventeen, but he felt time was running out. My parents escorted me to the docks and watched me leave.
    And now with what we've been hearing...I doubt they’re still alive back there.
    “So that's why you told me that sword was for sale.” Vistero shook his head lightly, “And that does explain why you're so gods awful with it. I am sorry about your parents, Cordyn, but your father was a smart man. I also sensed that something big was coming and that chances to get out were dwindling. That's how I ended up on that boat with you. For what it's worth, I'm glad to have you here with me, even if it's just because I pay you.”
    Part Two: Magic Tomes and a Burgeoning Taste for Adventure
    Years: 261-264
    Age: 21-24
    Cordyn continued to travel with Vistero for the next few years. While other caravan guards came and went over the years, Cordyn was always there. He did manage to pick up a little more sword skills by training with the others. He always had a hard time finding a good cobbler on the road and Vistero never really got used to the taste of travel rations, so when the two ended up in decent sized towns they always made sure to make the most of it.
    Sometime in the summer of 263, Cordyn came across a book during a brief stop-over in New Hope between outings. The book contained introductory lessons into Arcane teachings and he quickly stowed it away for further reading.
    The tome opened up Cordyn's eyes to a world of possibilities outside of his current line of work. He poured through it anytime the caravan stopped for the night, silently reading to himself. He even developed a type of walking-meditation that he would practice while Vistero slept in the back of a cart. While the book didn't delve into the real-world applications of mana weaving, it opened Cordyn's eyes to the ever-present mana stream that surrounded him and he practiced during most of his free time to learn to tap into it.
    The first time Cordyn tapped into the mana stream, he was so excited and overwhelmed that he immediately lost contact and gave himself a slight case of backlash. He was more careful and more reserved in the future, but he quickly came up on a road block in his studies. He was to the point where the book could no longer help him. He could tap into the mana stream, but he had no idea how to do anything with that knowledge. He needed a teacher and as much as he enjoyed his time with Vistero, he needed an adventure.
    “There's a whole world out there, Vistero. I'm getting tired of walking the same roads again and again. I want to go out and find my place. I want to learn magic.” Cordyn explained to his old friend, “It's nothing against you. I'm very grateful for everything you've done for me. It's just...well it's just -”
    “It's just that your twenty-four, Cordyn. I completely understand, you don't have to explain it to me. I've known you for seven years now. I'm just surprised it's taken you this long to get itchy feet.” Vistero smiled knowingly. “You know, I was your age once, boy. I remember what it was like to want to find my place in the world. I'm just lucky I found it so young.”
    Cordyn felt his relief wash over himself. He had been trying to find a way to tell Vistero that he was interested in leaving the caravan for weeks.
    “Tell you what. You stick it out with me until you find a good start to your adventure. We travel through plenty of towns. Now that you're open, I'm sure it won't take long to find what you're looking for.”
    “Thanks Vistero. For everything.”
    Cordyn didn't stay much longer with Vistero. Within a few months he bumped into a Syndar woman who shared his thirst for adventure, and lucky for Cordyn, she happened to be an arcane mage. She agreed to travel with him and try to teach him about magic as long as she could accompany him on his adventures. He may have embellished a bit when she asked him if he was good with his sword . . .

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Saturday, August 5

  1. page Gwynevive Cotorelle edited PLAYED BY: Jennifer Schneiderman CHARACTER NAME: Gwynevive Cotorelle GENDER: Female CLASS: Mage…
    PLAYED BY: Jennifer Schneiderman
    CHARACTER NAME: Gwynevive Cotorelle
    GENDER: Female
    CLASS: Mage
    AGE: 24
    RACE: Syndar
    HAIR: Brown
    EYES: Green
    OCCUPATION: Student, nomad
    KNOWN SKILLS: Arcane magic, Lore, Deciphering Magic, Meditation, archery, blacksmithing, and survival.
    BIRTHPLACE: Fire Island
    APPEARANCE: Serous Syndar with small pointed ears, living with the humans for several years, she has adopted some of their manner of dress. She prefers to keep some of her hair braided to avoid any interference with shooting.
    RELATIONSHIPS: Traveling companions with Cordyn Lockwell (Cody Jackson)
    Gwynevive was born on Fire Island during the summer of 242 and had, by all accounts, an undisrupted a childhood possible for her people. From an early age, she enjoyed exploring and learning, pestering the adults to teach her everything they could about flora, fauna, and archery, she particularly enjoyed cataloging and calling after the birds on the island. On her 10th birthday, the Magis found Gwynevive had a knack for arcane magic, and began her formal training. Following her year, Gwynevive continued to take classes in arcane magic, retreating to the forest to practice, and occasionally the forge. She had become fond of the blacksmith, though he was really more of a crude weapon maker with such few resources on the island. In return for some assistance with fashioning broken weapons into arrowheads, he allowed her to practice her magic in the clearing behind his forge (accidentally setting fire to a table on an early attempt of a push spell at school had put her on a kind of blacklist outside of the classroom). He taught her to conserve all available resources, something she took to heart, from saving the metal shavings from the workshop floor to create jewelry, to conserving her mana until it was truly needed. Gwynevive continued to create, and learn, but when first contact was made with the humans in 261, she felt as though the world she had come to know was turned on its head.
    Everything she had heard from her parents and the elders had been confirmed, other races, other people were out there. She felt as though the entire world had become so much larger, and she was so much smaller in comparison. When the first traders announced they would come to the island, she rushed to the scene in as dignified a manner as possible. The humans seemed gruff and loud to her, but she didn’t care. She had brought with her some of her arrow heads and jewelry that the blacksmith had deemed appropriate enough quality. Of course, her being so young, it was far from the most elegant work there. The humans seemed more interested in the cloth, bows, and arrows of some of the older, more experienced Syndar than her. Not to be discouraged, she set her wares on a woven mat and began to absentmindedly whittle before being interrupted by one of the humans.
    “What have you got there?” Gwynevive looked up at the salty and leathery-skinned human above her, completely unable to speak. How dare he address her in such a direct and rude manner!
    He smiled down at her, “you make that yourself?” Why was he smiling at her like that?! It was such a big smile, she could see all his teeth, he looked ridiculous.
    Unable to tell if he was making fun of her or not, Gwynevive’s eyes widened, whether out of anger or astonishment she couldn’t rightfully say. She tried to speak but something inside her vocal cords wasn’t working, all she could muster was a nod. She turned back to the piece of wood in her hands while the human furrowed his brow and shifted from foot to foot. He knelt down to get a better look, Gwynevive noticed that he had already purchased a few bows and mats from the other Syndar, and pushed down the indignation she felt. He was humoring her.
    “My wife might like this, is it for sale?” The man asked, picking up a small ring with a branch etched around the outside. Gwynevive looked at the man and nodded a second time. The man rifled through a bag on his hip, and pulled out a small bar of iron. Gwynevive tried her best to contain her excitement, though clearly she had let something show. The man showed her his toothy smile again and extended the iron to her.
    “Why don’t you make me some more, and I’ll come back for them?” Gwynevive looked back and forth from the man’s face to the iron, trying to gauge him. Her mind was racing; she held her hand aloft and slowly nodded a third time.
    The man’s name, Gwynevive later learned, was Jermaine Cotorelle, and he lived at Crows’ Landing. Over the next two years, he would come on nearly every other trade shipment to Fire Island, always making sure to stop by Gwynevive’s mat before the end of his stay. Initially, he had taken some getting used to, but over time, she had learned to accept his rough and tumble mannerisms. He liked touching the other humans, she noticed, often slapping them and guffawing loudly. When he came to see her, he would do most of the talking, telling her about Crows’ Landing, and his new exploits on the mainland. She learned about Ulven and Mordoc, and heard tales of a multitude of races living together. Jermaine always brought small payments for her work, a “maker’s fee” as it were. But more importantly, the new iron that came with him was far superior to what she had to work with on the island. All in all, she grew to look forward to his visits, and began sharing her stories with him of her childhood, even showing him some simple magic, when he asked. As her work got better, he started bringing more payments and larger bars of iron, she asked if it was a hassle to travel with such heavy cargo, to which he shrugged and told her not to worry. After two years of trade, Gwynevive struck a second bargain with Jermaine. In exchange for her work and protection; room and board, and safe passage to the mainland.
    Something weighed heavy on Gwynevive’s mind, though she couldn’t place it. It was the fall of 265, and she felt...itchy. It was nearing on winter, and though she had been in Crows’ Landing for two years, the winters still seemed harsher here than Fire Island. She paced the town trying to find words to explain how she felt, but not getting anywhere. Hunting didn’t help, neither did practicing her magic, or making jewelry, everything only served to frustrate her more. By the time she caught up with Jermaine and his wife Freya, it was so obvious something was bothering her; she was worried he might notice.
    “Something on your mind, Vive?” She wrinkled her nose at the nickname he had given her, by now she had hoped that he would call her by her real name. Either that or she thought she would have grown used to it
    “The Syndar usually prefer to be called by their full names, Jermaine.” She tried her best to contain her irritations.
    “Humans prefer to shake hands, but I never bothered you about that did I?”
    “You tried to reach for my hand this morning...” Jermaine gave her a smirk as Freya brought dinner out to the table. Gwynevive had been living and working with them since she left Fire Island. She had grown fond of them both; they made her feel more at home on the mainland, despite not fully understanding her culture. The first time they startled her during a full moon sacrifice of incense she was so angry with Freya she nearly brought her to tears. Overall she had a good life here; Jermaine brought her on his routes for company and protection. At home, she would make more metal goods to sell, and she had recently adopted their last name to be more recognizable outside of Crows’ Landing. Truth be told, that was only half the reason, she was very fond of her adopted family.
    But something was different now; she had been all over the southern routes and back to the island time and time again. She wanted a change of pace. She eyed the warm meal in front of her.
    “Jermaine, I've wanted to ask you how you felt about the idea of leaving.”
    “We're off north next week, just waiting on supplies.”
    Freya stopped eating and looked to her husband. Jermaine was silent. Gwynevive kept staring at her food.
    “Hah! About time, I was wondering when this life would be too small for you...I'd just...feel better if you didn't go alone…” Gwynevive couldn't help but crack a smile.
    Before long, Gwynevive met Cordyn Lockwell, a human with a sword, and an interest in arcane magic. She wasn't sure of his abilities with mana, but after a few months, she was even more dubious of his abilities with his sword.

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  2. page Character Bios edited ... Zepha de Sol Le Fleur- Cleric Xorvintaal - Warrior Gwynevive Cotorelle - Mage Ulven Harl…
    Zepha de Sol Le Fleur- Cleric
    Xorvintaal - Warrior
    Gwynevive Cotorelle - Mage
    Harlok Longfang - Warrior - DECEASED
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  3. page Haralt Von Khun-Wolff edited Player Name: Jared Helgestad Character Name: Haralt von Khün-Wolff Gender: Male Age: 25 Race: …
    Player Name: Jared Helgestad
    Character Name: Haralt von Khün-Wolff
    Gender: Male
    Age: 25
    Race: Human
    Hair: Brown
    Eyes: Greyish Blue
    Occupation: Íoclaochra (Mercenary or ‘Paid Warrior’)
    Known Skills: Melee combat
    Birthplace: Richtcrag
    Appearance: Always dressed in nice, red and black clothing with large sleeves and a fancy hat, thick accent, and a lot of weapons.
    Haralt was born in the Kupferhügel region of Richtcrag. His father was named Burslav and was an Íoclaochra. Burslav started training him to become an Íoclaochra like he was, but not long after the undead blight began to worsen. Fearing for the life of his son, he sent Haralt with his uncle, a fellow Íoclaochra who was recently injured and could no longer fight at the time, named Joramir to Mardrun to wait out the war and return if it turned around. It obviously did not turn around and needing a way to make a living in a new world, his uncle continued training Haralt.
    Once he was fully trained and his uncle thought he was ready they loaned out their services as mercenaries and hired muscle to random thugs and people who could pay. Some time later Haralt and his uncle were hired to help escort some Syndar who was interested in researching the swamps and the Mordok. After a long time away, only Haralt returned and resumed taking jobs when he could until he got enough of a reputation to be hired for better work. He was then hired for another excursion towards the swamps, which ended badly again. But this time he and one other survived, another Íoclaochra named Felix Klein. They decided to partner together and eventually they were hired by the Ravens.

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  4. page Character Bios edited ... Lux - warrior Leon Beldwick - Rogue Haralt Von Khun-Wolff - Warrior Syndar Magrat Farwal…
    Lux - warrior
    Leon Beldwick - Rogue
    Haralt Von Khun-Wolff - Warrior
    Magrat Farwalker - Cleric
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Thursday, August 3

  1. page The Council of Ten edited ... The first to suggest that the surviving nobles of Faedrun meet to discuss the ruling of the Co…
    The first to suggest that the surviving nobles of Faedrun meet to discuss the ruling of the Colonies was Baron Richards of Vandregon. He proposed that the nobility form a council to properly protect and guide the people of the colonies. There were several immediate volunteers – displaced nobles looking to regain the power that they had back on Faedrun, and thus the Council of Nobles was born.
    The Council meets twice yearly, to decide on important matters of governance that may affect the entire diasporic population of Faedrun. For other, lesser decisions, the nobles tend to either talk with the member of the Council whose area of governance corresponds with the action needed or make choices for their own estates. This has been successful so far – few disagreements have marred the reign of the Council, leading to relatively high confidence in the nobility despite their own personal biases and squabbles.
    NOTE: InIn August of
    The Nobles
    Duke Joakim Ventrini
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