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An Emperors Favor - Act 1 - The story so far, a land of the First Aengel campaign

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The story so far. Here follows a summary of current events after 17 sessions into Act 1: Alliance . [Prologue] - In your light we are humble (session 0,5-1) Our story begins in the future at at an currently undisclosed cabin where a young Jorel Sabar , the soon to be rhymester listens intense to his uncle Olegs stories. They turn there eyes the year 6593 in the 6th age - Age of Exile , a time before Kingdom of Therosa and when the south was loosely called “the Four Kings”. The setting Oleg describes is in north east of the early days in the Empire of Angellied, in the aftermath of the first emperor Ceirmund an Rierogg . There in the north east, in a region burn to ash some 50 years ago, now called the Charred Fields . We meet our heroes, the Knight Sir Ivan Ingelstadt, the fighter Viktor Varg and the hunter Arnulf von Brennen (with his side companion Welpe) They have along some other conscripts travelled to the hamlet of Brennen to attend the Empires call to arms. A delegation lead by...
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Oh great rhyme, shrouded be thy lane

 It was a late and somber night. Autumn could be seen from the color of the leaves and the coolness in the air. On the streets out of Southvale a couple of vagrants roamed the streets, either going from or to the nearest tavern.  At the 'The Dancing Weasel' songs could still be heard downstairs. Tankards clinking against each other, small folk laughing and the dices being thrown. From upstairs giggles could be heard from the suite. "You really are something Mr Sabar" Nika Stanik said. A broad smile stretching her pinkish face. A beautiful young woman, with naughty short hair in amber.  "Jorel. Please call me Jorel, we are among friends are we not?" Jorel Sabar answered. "Okay then, Jorel". She leaned against his bared chest and made smooth strokes with her fingers, playing with his chest hair. "Such a shame that you're leaving again tomorrow. We must make the most out of it, don't we?" She embraced him in a tight squeeze. "Le...
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Gospel Letter VI (unknown year)

Divine hear our prayer Divine see us Divine hear our prayer Divine feast with us In the light of truth we are humble As the moon and the stars shine upon us we look for the Light to guide us.  Thou the bleak crawls upon some the majority of the realm thrive. We must all remind ourselves of the gifts given. A lot of folks pray for the ones lost at the Great Calamity. A sadness of course but history will always strengthen us. As the harvest approaches and another year without war, we must think about what was and what will be. Light, both the kingdom and the old empire is calm. Keep the light and do not seek in the darkest corners of the land. Signed by, Pious Gallou of  Chapel of Therassia
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Echoes of Light - Interlude I: The Oak

  A late afternoon in the year 536 (3 years before the prologue) Laban Ydas walked firmly through the forest edge. This afternoon as many others the kids in Vidar was having a blast playing the game called  Ishi . As far as Laban remembered from the chapel lectures the Ishi was a cursed entity roaming a long lost land, like a ghost. A little bit creepy and today he was the Ishi, again. To be honest he wasn't really sure how the Ishi was decided, but he hade been made it an awful lot of times these past weeks. All participants was supposed to close there eyes and point at something and then the older kid Cael Immer or Octaf Potter shouted who was the Ishi. Then everyone ran and hid in the forest edge.  So here he was again, with the task at hand. To locate every hidden child and in the Ishi manner, according to the legend, point at the person and throw a creepy catchphrase to indicate that he had taken them.  Being the Ishi feels like a punishment , he thought. He had...
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Skriet från Storuman

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 Af dagen kommen, med solens strålar brytandes genom nejden. Jag vandrade i min ensamhet och kunde om ett nyck av eget förkunnande, skåda något så bedårande att för stunden ett andetag jag missat taga. Över nejderna, från skogens bryn, en fager gestalt där raglade fram. Hon var ack så vacker till skepnaden med långt brunt hår, men med ranglande steg som om jag skola tro att hon en afton inmundigat rus i dryck. Jag stegade framåt och försökte möta dennes blick, då hennes skönhet ack fått mig att släppa allen annan tanke oppa dagen. Men ve håret täckte denna fagra tingest som medan mina fötter tagit mig närmare sett denne trilla i slänten. Med rask takt tog jag mig framåt och skulle precis erbjuda denne qvinnliga fagherhet min bästa hand, men ve och tvi så mötte jag slutligen dess blick. I slänten låg där denna Katta som jag sedan barnsben och med mig så mången skrockat om. Detta kreatur av en del skönhet ock en del fasa. För bakom de långa håret så skådas ett anlete tvinat av sorg, ...
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