Issue 1 Volume 1 Number 1

Dragon's
LAYONARA
Whisper
LAYONARA FEATURES
FEATURES Role-PPlay Games
Role-Playing
Role-Playing Advice
Advice
Comic:
Comic: Tales
Tales of
of Layonara
Layonara
Stories
Stories of
of Layonara
Layonara
INTERVIEWS
INTERVIEWS
Cover
Cover Artist:
Artist: Phaere
Phaere
D&D
D&D Adventures:
Adventures:
Al
Al Sousa
Sousa
INTRODUCTIONS
INTRODUCTIONS
Gamemaster:
Gamemaster: Harlas
Harlas
Player
Player Characters:
Characters:
Bumblebee
Bumblebee & & Enzo
Enzo
Deity:
Deity: Pyrtechon
Pyrtechon
REVIEW
REVIEW
Warhammer
Warhammer Tabletop
Tabletop
Serenity
Serenity RPG
RPG
 Contents
Letter from the Editor
Wisdom from the Ranks
The Gamemasters:
Harlas
Four Corners of a Magical
World: Pankoki Quest
Warhammer: Tabletop
Miniatures Warfare
Comic: Tales of
Layonara
Portrait of a Character:
Bumblebee
Portrait of a Character:
Enzo
Chroniclers of the Weave
3 The people who are proud to bring this to you!
4
Editor In Chief
6 Dan Scott (Leanthar)
Editors
9
Sarah Hunter (Acacea)
Andrew Thompson (Creighton)
19 Beverly Scott (Fayith)
Layout
23 Beverly Scott
Andrew Thompson
30 Illustrations
Cover Artist and Illustrator: Lisette (Phaere)
32 Cartographer: Peter Mitchell (Rasterick)
Player Forum Albums: NwN screen shots & images

Get to Know Phaere: 38 Contributors and Reviewers

Artist/Illustrator
Serenity RPG 41
Deity of Layonara: 43
Pyrtechon
Notes of a Bard: 51
Ozymandias
D&D Adventures: 54
Al Sousa
False Truth - Chapter 1 56
Open Gaming Licenses 62
& Notices
Layonara World Map 64
Dragon’s Whisper
Volume 1, Issue 1, Number 1.
Published by Layonara Studios.
Reproduction or use of this
material in whole or in part
without permission of the
publisher is prohibited. The
views and opinions detailed here-
in are not necessarily those of
Layonara Studios, its executives,
or other contributors.
© 2007 Layonara Studios
Charles Tallman (CHAzz)
Thorsten Jurgensen (Harlas Ravelkione)
Fernando Espitia (Pankoki)
Phil Lynch (Philhappy)
Andy Mellecker (Guardian452/Enzo)
Jill Price (Honora)
Anthony Beaulieu
Edwin van de Ketterij (EdTheKet)
Jason Williams (Ozymandias)
Andrew Thompson
Tales of Layonara Comic
Story - Andrew Thompson
Artwork - Niels Andersen Dolmer (Niles09)
Interviews
Bumblebee (PenNPopper) - The Dragon's Whisper
in-game magazine
Phaere - http://phaere-tail.tripod.com/
Al Sousa - D&D Adventures
Websites
Layonara - http://www.layonaraonline.com
Phaere's Artwork - http://phaere-tail.tripod.com
D&D Adventures - http://www.dndadventure.com
Advertising and Submissions
Display advertising information and
submission guidelines available upon request.
Email: marketing@layonara.com

2
 Letter from the Editor In Chief
by Dan Scott (Leanthar)
It is with great pride that I write this letter of intro-
duction for the inaugural issue of Dragon’s
Whisper. To get this magazine out to you, it
required a lot of dedication and drive from our
team. Thank you--all of you!
I started this magazine because I know it will
spread word of the World of Layonara and be of
interest to our players. The larger the player base
is for the world, the better the opportunity that the
players in the community have in engaging in
good role play. Also, perhaps some of the players
will find some good
friends along the way.
We expect our layout will
change as we develop it,
and what is now planned
as a quarterly publication
could, one day, become
a monthly one. However,
our goal is to ensure it is
readable online and easy
to print for those that pre-
Dan Scott (Leanthar) fer a hardcopy.
Where to start?
Layonara started in my head in 1986 when I was
just starting to play and enjoy games. But gaming
was not really enough for me, so I started jotting
down notes and ideas about various things that I
would like to see in a fantasy world. After a few
years of this, I then started Game Mastering
(GM’ing) and I quickly learned that a few of my
ideas didn’t work and that all of my ideas were
not deep enough to create a really convincing
fantasy world. So, I went back to the drawing
board after my Pen and Paper (PnP) players
destroyed the world. A rookie GM mistake—I
have made plenty of them in my lifetime.
When starting over, I created the foundation of a
deeper world. Then, I started allowing my PnP
players to change and define the world as they
traveled to various areas in it. I quickly fell in love
with this new style of creation because it allowed
the players to enjoy themselves and actually feel
a part of the world. It was, at this time, that I
started tracking history and lore based around
the players and their actions. This continued for
nearly a decade and quite a few players were
involved during this process and time frame. Lots
of fun! And lots of handwritten documents and
hand-drawn maps...an artist I am not.
In June of 2002, I took a stab at putting Layonara
online for other players to enjoy. I thought the
world would remain small and mostly unnoticed
but to my surprise it was fairly popular. I made a
lot of mistakes at the beginning as running an
online community is difficult and time consuming
to say the least. I am still learning to this day and
will continue to learn.
The world has exploded in popularity, lore, and
history ever since putting it online. It is a lot of
fun to see players enjoy their time inside the
game world and reading the history and lore of
the world.
I would like to humbly say thank you to all of the
great people that have worked on the various
teams at various stages of involvement within the
game world and the community in general. Every
single one of you that has been on these teams
rock! It is because of your hard work and sacri-
fices through the years that the players have
been able to enjoy their time in a great game
world full of history and lore.
To the players…thank you! We all do this for you.
Every one of us enjoys seeing you have fun in a
game world built for role-playing, which is why
we work in the community. Without the players,
there is no reason to have a game world and all
of us are unmistakably aware of this fact.
And thank you to my family for your support over
the long years. I love you! Beverly...you are awe-
some and I couldn’t have done this without your
support and love. Thank you honey.
3
 Wisdom from the Ranks
Answers to Those Troubling Questions
by Charles Tallman (CHAzz)
Our intention with this feature is to give advice on
any and all aspects of role playing.
While I am aware that for more than just a few of
you, Neverwinter Nights (NwN) has been your
only experience with role-playing games, and
that you might never have stepped up to a pen-
cil-and-paper, tabletop game in your life, I never-
theless wish to include as much of the entire
industry as possible. Who knows, perhaps your
experiences in Layonara will help you branch out
into other aspects of the genre.
Now, before I get too far into this, perhaps a little
bit about myself is in order, if only to help build
some sort of credentials.
I've been gaming most of my life, since the early
days of Dungeons & Dragons. Ever since that
first taste in 1977 I've gobbled up any system,
setting, or book I could get my hands on. I most
assuredly do not consider myself an expert on
anything. I do, however, consider myself highly
opinionated on just about everything. It is this
vast storehouse of opinion from which I plan to
draw my suggestions.
No matter how I feel about my opinions and their
validity, I am certainly not the end-all, be-all of
geek knowledge. When necessary, I will be
drawing on the massive pool of gamerdom
intellect known affectionately as the Layonara
Forums. If I can't figure out how to explain
something, or if (more likely "when") I find differ-
ing opinions on topics, I will try to cover both
sides, including quotes from the veterans who
have been generous enough to share their
wisdom.
One challenge to writing an article like this is that
it would be easy to call it a "how-to." This is a
viewpoint that we are trying to avoid at all costs.
When it comes to role playing, the only fast and
solid rule is that there really is no right or wrong
way to do things; the entire concept is self-inter-
pretive. Honestly, can anyone tell me how an elf
acts? Have you ever encountered one down at
the local corner shop buying a packet of snack
cakes? Have we ever seen one on television
discussing ethnic disparity on a daytime talk
show? Of course not, but we all have our own
idea of how one would act. And that's the issue
right there. While my elf and your elf will have
similarities, there will be plenty of differences, if
only because of our personal experiences and
how we look at the material.
“When it comes to role playing, the only
fast and solid rule is that there really is
no right or wrong way to do things.”
Having said all this, I think some generalities
would be a good topic for this inaugural issue.
So let us start with some basics.
There are essentially four different styles of RPG.
I categorize them into: standard RPG’s, such as
D&D or Rifts; Massively Multiplayer Online
RPG’s, like Everquest, Dark Age of Camelot, or
Ultima Online; Live Action RPG’s like Mind's Eye
Theatre, or NERO; and finally, Miscellaneous
RPG’s; games like Monopoly fit this final
category. At this point, two questions have likely
popped into your head, one being how does
Layonara fit into this model, and two, how is
Monopoly a role-playing game?
Layonara, as a persistent world of Neverwinter
Nights, is a cross between a traditional RPG and
an MMO. It definitely has the setup of an MMO.
You need a computer with some sort of Internet
connection, you play with tons of people you've
never met in real life, and much of the dynamic is
handled in a computer game fashion. On the
other hand, there is a higher percentage of role
4
 Wisdom - Continued
playing than in an MMO; we accomplish things submission process helps you make sure your
with actual, if still electronic, die rolls, and we character concept is going to work within the
tend to police ourselves more when it comes to framework of the setting. If this is for a tabletop
non-game issues and topics. As for Monopoly, game, check with the GM to make certain your
think about it for a minute. Monopoly, Life, heck concepts aren't going to clash with his ideas for
even some card games require us to take on a the game. There are very few things more frus-
"role." In Monopoly, we are real estate tycoons, trating than to spend a great deal of time and
in Life, ordinary people. In the card game Lunch effort on a character whose background doesn't
Money, we pretend to be little girls on the ele- matter to the game. And from the other side of
mentary school playground. That's really what the screen, your GM doesn't want to try to jam
our entire hobby comes down to: taking a role. your character into his campaign when it doesn't
fit right.
“Essentially, all we ever do is What I'd really like to accomplish in this article,
improv acting.” aside from hopefully entertaining you with my
rambling style, is to answer specific questions
and issues you might have, regardless of game,
Essentially all we ever do is improv acting. I system, or setting. Heck I'll even try to answer
know I say that like improv is an easy thing and questions about collectable card games and the
all those actors are hacks, but I really mean it in like. To that end, if there is something you are
the reverse. We should feel pretty good about concerned about, or perhaps you want to debate
ourselves for attempting this stuff in the first me on some point or other, I've set up an email:
place. We may not be on stage, but it still can wisdomfromtheranks@gmail.com. Please feel
be pretty nerve-wracking to pretend to be what- free to send me any and all of your various ques-
ever we play, and hope the others we meet are tions, concerns, comments, and gripes. I'll try to
convinced with our performance. answer the best I can. If I can't help you with an
answer, I'm certain I can find someone who can.
That aside, back to the game.
Until next time, may all your hits be crits.
When starting a new
character, the best
way to start is to
read. Read anything
on the setting you
can get your hands
on. For Layonara,
that's pretty easy.
Everything is in one
spot. Go through
the background,
history, timeline,
maps; all of it. Hit
the forums, read
what others have
posted. The best
thing about the way
Layonara is set up, The Great Library--no longer lost. A great role-playing session in the Soul
is that the character of a Lost Ancient Campaign.

5
 Presenting
The Gamemasters
Each issue we would like to take the time to let our Gamemasters, in their own words,
introduce themselves to you and tell you a little of who they are, why they do what they
do, and overall give you insights into their perspectives regarding role playing.

So without further ado, allow us to introduce you to one of our own:

Thorsten Jurgensen (Harlas)

I used to be one of the guys who made jokes even mountains.

about role playing, until a friend of mine invited
me to oversee a Pen and Paper (PnP) role-play-
ing session so I at least would know what I was
making fun of. I came, saw, and was hooked.
I played in a fantasy PnP campaign for two to
three years with a group of friends until I felt like
running something of my own making. By then, I
had read loads of fiction, sci-fi, and middle-age
inspired novels that gave me tons of ideas that I
was eager to try on my PnP group. At the time,
we played following a custom-made ruleset that
gave much power to the GM in leaving out the
use of dice. The GM created the environment,
set the boundaries, and gave us an impression
or a feel of the situation, enabling us to make
qualified judgments on whether what we wanted
was doable or not.
When I moved to a larger city to study, I lost my
old PnP group. Since I was not entirely prepared
to give up role playing, I started looking for a new
group, which proved easily done. I then contin-
ued GMing and role playing on and off for anoth-
er 3 years, but since it was just not the same as
in the old days, I began looking for an alternative.
That's when a friend of mine suggested that I
look into Neverwinter Nights online. I followed his
recommendation of a server, logged on, and
made my first character.
I was fascinated by all the custom materials and
equipment, feats and skills, emotes, appear-
ances and voicesets that were put into beautifully
made areas of towns, hills, deserts, swamps, and
Unfortunately, there was a lack of progress,
change, and forward movement on the server, so
after two months of exploration I had seen all
there was to see and lost interest.
Because of this, I started looking for a new serv-
er, which was when I stumbled upon Layonara
Online on a Google search. The amount of infor-
mation on the forums was, at first glance, stag-
gering. I slowly began working my way through
the maps, deities, races, and history of the world,
then started working on an application for a
dwarven character, Kobal Bluntaxe, who was
promptly approved and received a dream by a
golden wyrm.
“...Layonara is a dynamic world where
player interactions shape or create new
areas, plotlines, and even history....”
Because Layonara is a dynamic world where
player interactions shape or create new areas,
plotlines, and even history, I had still not yet left
the first continent even after playing a month.
Furthermore, a development team is continuing
to come up with yet more implementations to the
game that add realism, while writers add further
detail to the history, deities, geography, and crea-
tures of the world. Together they work closely
with the GM team that runs regular quests, plot
quests, and character development quests. An
amazing player base also continuously works

6
 The Gamemasters: Harlas - Continued
with the team to add more content and depth to
the World of Layonara, which also allows the
players to further immerse themselves into the
world and add depth to their characters.
After playing for about a year, I decided that I
wanted to contribute with my own ideas and
shape threads on my own. Additionally, I wanted
to give something back to the world, so I decided
to apply for a GM position and was welcomed
into the team.
hearing, which makes it more interesting com-
pared to being a GM in PnP.
“As a GM in Layonara, you are able to
shape both a visible and audible
environment for players that has a
very realistic feel to it.... [A] GM is
enabled to shape the story around a
group of characters.”

There are great possibilities for a GM using the

NwN GM client compared to being a GM in a
PnP campaign. As a GM in Layonara, you are
able to shape both a visible and audible environ-
ment for players that has a very realistic feel to it.
A GM can build areas, manipulate environments
like weather conditions and time of day, possess
and control NPC’s, and place enemies dynami-
cally as the quest unfolds. In short, a GM is
enabled to shape a story around a group of char-
acters that does not only appeal to the imagina-
tion of the players but also to their vision and
Obviously, there are also drawbacks, such as the
handling of skill checks. However, these draw-
backs can be circumvented by the GM. An exam-
ple is a situation where a character is trying to
sneak (i.e. using Hide in Shadows + Move
Silently) across an area without cover during
broad daylight. The game mechanics does not
and cannot take such restrictions into account
when making the skill check. Such situations can
be handled through role play and communication
between player and GM,
and are often much more
rewarding than simply
walking around in stealth
mode.

But being a GM on
Layonara is more than
just the running of quests
and throwing groups of
characters into hopeless
situations to see how they
manage to find a way out;
it is also about being part
of a team. Furthermore,
being a GM also requires
dedication to the World of
Layonara and the wish to
contribute to it and
expand it further.

GM duties beyond the

running of quests include
things like helping players
Kobal Bluntaxe (Harlas’ Layonara character) and Hargranar. that have problems in

7
 The Gamemasters: Harlas - Continued
game and answering questions by players on the
public forums. GMs also voice their opinions in
discussions on the GM forums where subjects
range from the approval of characters, balancing
issues or bugs, to more complex topics like the
future of the server. Open-mindedness and paus-
ing to consider options go a long way towards
fulfilling this important part of the job.
My experience has taught me that often, small
stories are the best ones, or stories that start out
as small where room is left for them to evolve. In
my opinion, the key is to leave things open to the
players. Player initiative is rewarding to both GM
and the group and often leads the quest on
routes one had not anticipated. Such detours
require the GM to have the ability to expand and
invent a storyline on the run, interact with the
group through the NPC’s along their road, and
inventing their personalities and backgrounds
without prior preparation.
“Instead of choosing magic as a
relatively “easy” means to explain a phe-
nomenon or as a route towards the fulfil-
ment of a quest, I often prefer to rely on
creative use of skills and the imagination
of the party to pass obstacles or defeat
an overpowering foe. In my opinion, the
"magic" in encountering magic disap-
pears once magic becomes common.”
Realism is an important factor, in my opinion--
even in a fantasy setting. Instead of choosing
magic as a relatively "easy" means to explain a
phenomenon or as a route towards the fulfillment
of a quest, I often prefer to rely on creative use
of skills and the imagination of the party to pass
obstacles or defeat an overpowering foe. In my
opinion, the "magic" in encountering magic disap-
pears once magic becomes common.
An example of a quest series I have run on
Layonara was the story surrounding an orcish
champion of Grand. Grand is an orcish deity in
Layonara who once suffered betrayal as a mortal
and swore vengeance against his betrayer, which
eventually lead to his ascension.
Grand gifted a weapon to an orc of his choice.
This orc was neither the strongest nor the most
cunning of his worshippers, but one who suffered
betrayal of the worst kind. Grand made this orc
his unwilling champion--unwilling because he
refused his role but was left no choice by the
god. The champion, Grand's Red Raven, was to
unite the orcish tribes on the continent and lead
an assault on the dwarven bastions in the civi-
lized lands, to weaken their god and avenge the
old betrayal.
A group of adventurers sought to unravel Grand's
scheme and with the help of a master in trans-
mutation the group was polymorphed into a band
of orcs--permanently, as they discovered during
the ritualistic transformation. Given their new
shapes, the former adventurers were able to infil-
trate the orcish army and eventually befriended
the champion of Grand. The group recognized
the madness that threatened to overwhelm the
champion due to the increasing pressure laid on
him by the presence of the god and understood
that the champion was fighting against his god's
will and lust for blood. Alas, they knew that this
was not a struggle he would be able to win.
Through careful, smart execution and the help of
an orcish bonecaster from a rogue tribe of orcs,
the party managed to free the champion by
breaking the weapon. At the same time, two
priests among the party were calling upon the
power of their gods to cause the ground to
shake, causing cave-ins at strategic locations
and sealing most of the orcish army into the
underground tunnels they had been excavating
to launch a surprise attack upon a dwarven set-
tlement.
Naturally, the group took losses along the way,
but they came out on top. The characters eventu-
ally found a way to regain their former shapes
and sizes; although, some of their orcish traits
remain with them--even to this day.
8
 Four Corners of a Magical World
What follows is a documentation of a quest series
by the very GM that created and administrated it:
Fernando Espitia (Pankoki)
As stories go, and legends are
made, many find themselves
wanting to fight off the evil that
lurks around their worlds, while
others seek treasure and delve
into the deepest dungeons where
they fight ancient beasts to find it,
and still others just pick a road
and simply start walking it. For a
small group of Dragoncalled, this
was not so; this story practically
fell into their laps as they rested
and talked in the middle of a
small town named Hlint.
Rushing out of magical gates
came a slight elf (Felimian was
his name), bearing the urgent
news of a distant land known to
very few. He claimed his roots in
Voltrex (the Tower of Earth, to be
precise), and his accent and pos-
ture spoke of his honesty. With
the melodic speech so often pos-
sessed by elves, he told our 'hap-
less heroes' of a woman named
Melizaphei.
"Melizaphei Hilliaraname was a
very powerful elven wizard that
was raised and tutored in the
Tower of Nature. She showed
promise over the arcane arts at a
very young age and excelled in
all her teachings much earlier
than expected. Eventually she
came into her power and became
a vital member of the elven wiz-
ard community. The matters that
she researched were simply
amazing. All her experiments
were beyond their time and peo-
ple truly wondered how she was
able to produce such marvelous
effects in the Weave.
"Her last project, and the most
important of them all, was a set
of scrolls, four in total, each one
representing an element. The
premise of the Scrolls of
Melizaphei was the ability to mold
and shape each element to the
point of being one with them. She
believed in the good that these
scrolls could be used for, but she
also understood the level of risk
that was involved should they fall
into the wrong hands. In anticipa-
tion of this, she used many of her
skills to put several fail-safe
devices on the scrolls, some of
which remain a mystery to this
date."
Melizaphei
His story, however, was not to
end properly. As Felimian told
them this, a circle formed around
him. Abject terror filled his face
and he hurriedly told the group
that if they wished to avoid a ter-
rible future for this land they
should seek the keepers of the
High Forest. A powerful ray of
magic struck him and then he
was no more.
That is how this saga was born,
for after that point in time all their
lives would change both for the
better, and the worse. Friend-
ships would rise, enmities would
swell, and the very fabric of
magic was to be flavored with a
unique touch.
The High Forest is a place where
Unicorns once roamed, where
the land spoke through the many
tenders of its heart, and where
the balance of dark and light was
a thin one that shifted with every
season. Many rangers and druids
had gathered there in Katia's
Grove to see a strange black
box. It was rumored that it held a
treasure that had been kept in
their fold for many years, and that
it was now no longer safe under
their green canopies and instead
awaited the return to its master.
When the Dragoncalled arrived, it
was clear to the nature folk that
something had gone wrong.
There were four wizards appear-
ing less-than-friendly, two priest-
esses with a reputation for short
tempers, and a bard with more
strings than a spider's web.
When they heard the names
attached to each face, it did
seem that things were getting
worse by the moment. Yet the
druids were bound by pact, and
the group presented all that was
needed to claim the box. With a
sense of relief, Legodia, Keeper
of The High Forest, presented
them with the burden the forest
could no longer bear. Without
knowing what they were stepping
into, it was taken by the young
priestess of Lucinda. With deter-
mination in her expression, she
was the first to come in contact
9
 Four Corners - Continued
with the Scroll of Earth.
"This is the source of the earth,
the spirit of the stone, the soul
of the solid air. Within lies the
sphere of the one corner that
controls that which binds the
planet. This is the third scroll of
Melizaphei. You who read this
are now bound to defend it. The
scroll will answer to you; join it
with his brothers to dismiss this
power or seek forever to be
chased by its suitors."
Did she feel confusion? Perhaps
bewilderment? Whichever it was,
the young priestess changed
from that day on. Like a newborn
child, the scroll began to explore
her mind, learn from her and her
from it; a being held within that
was now freed to her mind, per-
haps even her soul. Curious as
all followers of the Lady of Spells
are, she opened to it and the
world began taking shapes of
earth and steel.
Felimian's warning lingered, how-
ever. There were three more to
be found and an evil wizard
named Kelor with a clear advan-
tage over them. The conscious-
ness of the scroll they had, lov-
ingly named Stone, guided them
towards the nearest of the ones
remaining.
Their next stop was to be the
island of Alibor in the Kingdom of
Roldem. Of course no journey is
ever safe, least of all one into a
land that was facing a war from
undead factions, Mad God follow-
ers, and the very few trying to
fight them. Purpose drove our lit-
tle group despite that. They wove
small illusions or fought the small
groups they could handle until
they reached the end of their
journey where the strangest of
creatures awaited.
The Kuo-Toa, as they call them--
a strange mix of frog and things
that should perhaps remain forev-
er unknown, normally hostile to
any land dweller, all stood their
swampy grounds as the presence
of one of the Scrolls was
acknowledged. After struggling to
communicate, a spell was placed
on the scroll bearer and soon
more dire news began flowing.
Xhalixkkia was the name of the
leader. A Kuo-Toa of legendary
age who spoke to them at great
length, and was eventually dis-
covered to be the bearer of the
Scroll of Water, keeper of the
ebbs and flows, grace of the
deep, and ward to a place of
greater power, a place where all
the four were linked to a balance
set by the cunning of the elven
race. A place that was not too far
from his home, and once the four
scrolls were gathered, was where
they were to be returned--a place
of power where their fate was to
be determined. Though he was
cryptic to no end, what was clear
of his speech was the simple
urgent warning to gather the oth-
ers before the balance was jeop-
ardized.
It was easier said than done, for
no clear clues to a direction exist-
ed, as the other two scrolls were
found to be either behind extra-
planar walls or hidden in very
powerful magic. So following
Xhalixkkia's advice, they instead
made for Dregar, a place where
the history of the scrolls had
migrated to once it had left
Voltrex, which would hopefully be
the place to find the clues they
needed to locate the other two, if
cunning heads prevailed.
The first sign of progress was
found in Pranzis after many
weeks of intensive, fruitless
research--a simple note found
stating that two agents of an
unknown society wished to meet
and discuss the matters of the
scrolls. One would be found in
the woodland province of Vale, in
the Forest of Mists, and the other
not too far from it, in Orc's Watch.
Kelor
By this time however, Kelor's
minions were already on their
tails. Sporadic encounters with
creatures of the elements were
normal things, yet each
encounter was a test of their met-
tle that took sweat and tears to
survive. Magic flew, prayers were
answered, song lingered, and
blades or hammers struck the
forces of the elements, which
only showed the control over fire
possessed by the elf who com-
manded them. Perhaps driven by
purpose, or perhaps luck, they
survived this battle and many
more to come.
Vale is a serene spiritual forest
outpost in the deep heart of the
Forest of Mists, protected by a
chest-high wall of stone; a place
where those that revere nature
make pilgrimages to fulfill vows or
renew spirits. This is where the
group met a gentle elven
enchantress by the name of
Elmilindalethiaratan Elnatioanna,
who thankfully allowed herself to
be called simply Elmi. She was a
10
 Four Corners - Continued
figure that had appeared before
in the lives of those now tasked
with the procurement of Meli's
work.
Elmi's previous line of work had
placed her in the way of the
scrolls, and she was aware of
Melizaphei and her family line
and the amazing research per-
formed by the Hilliaraname dur-
ing her life on Voltrex before her
disappearance. She spoke great-
ly of how advanced Melizaphei's
research was and how most of it
wasn't even understood by those
in her time. Eventually, the next
step was found. Elmi's husband,
the second contact, a mysterious
man named Boroin told them of
odd occurrences near the River
of Shadows: trolls running away
from their home in O'taogor and
odd activity within the caves.
Boroin and Elmi
Mucking through the bug infest-
ed, serpent-riddled troll home
was likely the least of their
desires, but their sacrifices were
well rewarded--for after removing
the large amount of elemental
beings that then guarded the
caves, they discovered Kelor's
first mistake: a summoning circle
left unattended. In it a shimmer-
ing visage of a helpful yet suffer-
ing man who gave them the
knowledge that Xora, the lady in
the northern tower, would grant
them insight beyond belief.
What of the Holder of Earth? The
young priestess slowly learned of
the scroll. It held memories of its
previous owner, memories of
murder and loss at the hands of
cared ones. She learned of a
name: Kailia, Kelor's sister. The
story unfolded slowly, and in
every dark corner, something
more tenebrous came through. In
time, she will learn of the true
horrors behind the scrolls.
Xora is a mysterious woman who
controls a powerful tower of
magic near the northern forests
of Dregar. She is rumored to be a
great wizard who trusts no one
but herself, with an expression
that at times reveals a small
glimpse of sadness that is quickly
replaced with a stern look and a
resolute demeanor. This is where
the group met, now expanded in
number after the story had
spread through the Dragoncalled.
By now, their suspicions of Kelor
possessing the Scroll of Fire
were well founded. They had
faced nothing but flames in their
confrontations and the scroll felt
warded to Stone, the being within
the Scroll of Earth. Thus the con-
versation with Xora revolved
around the location of the missing
scroll, Air. Excitement filled their
expressions when she confirms
that she has ways to reach it, but
it is quickly staunched when she
affirms the fact that only if they
found the amulet of The
Harvester of Souls, or any infor-
mation regarding its location,
would she allow passage to the
realm in which the scroll hid.
Amusement was in short supply
that day and with a warning from
the mysterious lady they left with
a heavy sigh and a lack of direc-
tion.
Weeks of endless investigation
ensued, walls seemingly the only
options of movement (meaning
none at all of course), until a day
that they were once more collect-
ed in Pranzis. As they gathered
around a fountain, the water took
shape into a being of grace, and
a message was given from a
weakening Xhalixkkia. Corax
Lake.
Deep Lake is another name for
the body of water named after
the half-orc Corax, as it was
called before he performed a leg-
endary dive in a local festival. A
mysterious lake, which is said to
be bottomless and full of myster-
ies. Now, it served as the meet-
ing place for a dying scroll bearer
and a group of adventurers hun-
gry for information. Anything.
The war in Alibor had finally
taken its toll on the Kuo-Toa and
it was now time for Xhalixkkia to
pass unto deeper ponds. As
such, he was tasked to entrust
the Scroll of Water to a worthy
successor, and it was within this
group that such person would be
found.
Uncomfortable glances were
exchanged; the wizards within
the group, their desires often less
than savory, were perhaps hop-
ing to control the more destruc-
tive Fire Scroll, while others were
perhaps afraid of the duality the
scrolls imposed, or maybe simply
had no desire to be associated
with the element. Thus, it was an
enduring soul named Dal'Venus,
a Hammer of Dorand, who with a
stout resolution took it upon her-
self to protect and bond with the
scroll, opposite in nature but with
an understanding of the impor-
tance of such a role.
"This is the source of the
water, the flowing sight, the
11
 Four Corners - Continued
blood of the world. Within lies
the sphere of the one corner
that infuses the planet with life.
This is the first scroll of
Melizaphei. You who read this
are now bound to defend it.
The scroll will answer to you;
join it with his brothers to dis-
miss this power or seek forever
to be chased by its suitors."
After giving them the scroll,
Xhalixkkia informs them of an old
relative of Melizaphei, now living
in the small desert city of
Saudiria.
Saudiria is the mysterious oasis
on the coast of Dregar. A place of
enticing natural rhythms and invit-
ing windblown lullabies where
many seek refuge from the shift-
ing dunes of the desert, and
pointed to as home of
Melizaphei's brother, who they
found to be long dead.
The sad news was quickly
replaced with hope when they
discovered that the elf's half-
human daughter is the current
owner of the place, and that she
was in the middle of moving out
and getting rid of all the "junk"
her father had kept around.
Eager to learn about the figures
that have eluded them for so
long, they pleaded with her to let
them explore within, and since
she clearly didn't mind the
chance to get rid of more collect-
ed dust, they stumbled upon the
first image of Melizaphei they
were to have.
It was a portrait--a family portrait,
no less. They looked upon the
elves and saw the faces to the
names for the first time: a female
with a friendly, curious demeanor
despite seeming a figure of
imposing authority, with an
adventurous gaze that was nearly
more suited for the eyes of a
halfling; a middle-aged male with
flowing white hair framing an
arrogant expression; a young
woman with short hair as black
as night and deep blue eyes
seeming to consume the world
with their curiosity; another
female, though this one in a flow-
ing gown that clearly appraised to
numbers better left unsaid; a
dark-haired young male that
appeared aloof in his posture,
with an imperturbable expression
containing hints of shadow; and
finally a young girl that had clear-
ly not yet reached adulthood, with
her innocence still evident in her
face.
Amongst the belongings therein
was a jewel box containing parts
of an amulet, a stone key that
was hidden under the folds, and
a more mundane-seeming house
key that was found attached to
the back of the portrait. The mys-
tery was unveiling slowly with
new clues to old problems.
The findings coaxed more memo-
ries from Stone, but with another
scroll bearer added to the group
they also had a larger target
painted on their backs. Because
of that, this is also where they
began moving with a stronger
sense of purpose and determina-
tion. The portrait and the key led
them back to the Forest of Mists,
where Kailia was rumored to
have lived in the past, but not
before finally meeting their
enemy.
It was before the gates of Pranzis
that they saw his image wreathed
in flames and draped in a dark
crimson mantle that exuded
unnatural fires. This elf's appear-
ance bore little resemblance to
the one in the portrait, yet it car-
ried distinct features that marked
him as the same. No words could
be exchanged before magic
whisked him to safety, but the
Dragoncalled now had the face of
their enemy in mind.
They spoke with the Rangers of
the Glade to unearth some infor-
mation about the strange elf that
once practiced magic within the
forest, to find out about Kailia.
Fortunately, the elven mind is not
often prone to forgetfulness, and
so her home was identified as the
now overrun Deathgate Goblin
hideout. The streak of good for-
tune went even further still, as
when they inspected the goblin-
infested site, they discovered a
magically sealed entrance…and
its key the one they had found in
Saudiria. Kailia's old deserted
study was now open to them, and
within it, a collection of her
diaries.
The diaries were bound in hard
leather that seemed to have been
exposed to heavy enchantments
with its red-tinted pages clearly
made from the beautiful elven
trees of yew. On them, the words
were written in a flowing hand-
writing.
"I don't understand why he made
me come to this forest. As much
as I love the natural setting of my
homeland, my duty was always in
Arabel. I am no druid; my magic
is wasted in defending myself
against pigs and badgers. A sad
day, this is.
I found the tree house he told me
about; it was interesting to see
how he enchanted the place to
have two entrances, one seem-
ingly a house devoid of living, the
other, his true abode that was
warded against all kinds of intru-
sion. It took me a good three
days to figure out how to open it!
12
 Four Corners - Continued
Silly me, forgetting the stone key
in my pocket.
The place is huge!! I have no
idea how I'm going to keep it all
organized but I'll do my best of
course. Still, why in the middle of
nowhere? There's not a single
soul in this place except the odd
ranger passing here and there. I
will need to get some sort of bath
placed here. All in time.…"
Her entries continue to describe
how, day by day, she adapted the
house to her needs, with exten-
sive shopping lists for basic
necessities, and recounts of her
experiences traveling within the
forest.
"Well, it has been awhile since I
wrote in this little book of mine. I
was called back home and forgot
to grab it when I left. Then again,
that's normal of me, forgetting
things like that.
The trip back home was a pleas-
ant one. The welcoming gates of
Saida are just the right thing one
needs to relax from scribing and
magicking. As usual, the family
wards were waiting for me and
led me to our home in Saida. I
really wanted to go straight to the
tower and visit my mother, but I
would feel bad not saying hello to
my fading father, so I spent a few
days with him as he withered
away in his bed. I love him with
all my heart, but sometimes you
simply need to let go.
After a few days, my mother
called and without a seconds
notice I was running for the
tower.
She was her usual self, her light
blue and earthen gown flowing
freely in the windy night. My
mother never fell into that stereo-
typical wizard look; she is beauti-
ful, smart, and polite. My father is
a lucky elf.
She addressed me in common,
which means someone else was
listening to us--the ever-polite
Voltrexian. This was a secret
code to us, no one else knew it,
but it meant to watch our
tongues. And so she spoke of
roses and the new spring and
some other subjects that really
didn't fit the reason we met. And I
knew she meant that she had
finally finished her work, and that
she was ready to show it to me
as soon as we were alone.
She showed to me four simple
scrolls…they were beautiful. One
stored in a small glass casket
with a slight blue tint to it.
Another bright red one appearing
to be actually in flames. One in a
cylindrical tube rolled neatly and
surrounded by a liquid. The final
one, a slab of flat stone with
runes inscribed on it.
She explained to me what they
did and their importance. I knew
she wasn't lying for I've seen her
power and what she can create.
In her own words, "They are safe
while I remain, or at least my
conduit. They are powerful Kaila,
and many will seek them for
that."
She meant it--I already knew of a
little rat that was probably schem-
ing to get a hold of them. Then
she surprised me, as she usually
does. She held the stone tablet
and gave it to me. "Kaila, protect
this one, it is the primal key to the
others and is no easy responsibil-
ity. It will test you in many ways
and I fear that it will take its toll
on you. You see my child, I've
placed a defense around the oth-
ers. They are somewhat protect-
ed from their users, but I do not
want to get into detail so early, for
it will probably confuse you. All
you need to know now is that you
must seek your cousin in Arabel.
Felimian has established a link
with the locals, and they can lead
you to understanding. This is my
gift to the world; within the end of
this passage I will leave what
may be useful in the future. I
have linked our amulets so that
only the two of us can open this
place, although you would need
the other three scrolls to open
them…."
I was lost. She seemed hurried
somewhat, very unlike her. But I
took the scroll. She is my mother,
I trust her; she knows what I'm
capable of and what my limits
are.
On my way back, the thing start-
ed talking to me! It was like a
baby asking all sorts of ques-
tions; I asked for a name, he said
he didn't have one. I called him
Laanela, seemed fitting. We
talked about everything. He
asked so much, and I talk too
much. A good companion he has
become.
For now, I have to pack my things
and go to Arabel. My old teacher
said that I could leave this forest
when I found out how to stop
time. Old blabber, I miss him
sometimes but I couldn't wait until
I could STOP TIME, so I left for
Arabel to meet my cousin.
Besides, I heard he is getting
married, so I wouldn't mind meet-
ing his beloved wife."
More clues, more places to dis-
cover, more history to the myth.
The Rangers of the Glade had
also spoken of a tribe of barbar-
ians living in the mountains to the
north that worshiped the winds
13
 Four Corners - Continued
and spoke of legends rang true of
the essences of the scrolls.
Thunder Peaks is a land of con-
flict between displaced Granite
Giants and local shamanic bar-
barian tribes, mountains where
storms are born and given direc-
tion, and the place where the
tides were truly to turn in their
favor.
Our heroes were smart enough to
approach the normally secluded
tribes with peace and a friendly
demeanor, ending some of the
giants that lurked their holy
grounds as a gift. After speaking
at length of their purpose, it was
the tribal leader that accepted
them as a piece of destiny and
presented them with a simple
whistle that had been given to
him many seasons ago. It would
open the door to realms
unknown.
They suspected that they had
finally located the way to Air, and
it was time for an elf to take
charge of it. An archer named
Talan Va'lash, who had recently
joined them in the exploration of
the fabled scrolls, was curious
about its magic and perhaps its
relation to the elven sanctuary of
Voltrex. He blew the instrument
on the highest peak, and with a
clap of thunder, a flash of light,
he was gone from this world.
What happened then? Perhaps
only Talan will ever know. When
he came back, he was a changed
elf, bearing the third of
Melizaphei's four scrolls and with
control of the element coming
naturally to him.
"This is the source of the air, the
spirited voice, the ether of the
world. Within lies the sphere of
the one corner that infuses the
planet with breath. This is the
second scroll of Melizaphei.
You who read this are now
bound to defend it. The scroll
will answer to you; join it with
his brothers to dismiss this
power or seek forever to be
chased by its suitors."
In a brief, sidetracked interlude,
they met with the wizard
Moraken, who saw fit to meet
with them. Likely he knew the
true importance of the scrolls,
and so he provided gruff guid-
ance, perhaps hoping that the
young adventurers wouldn't blow
up the world. He spoke of the two
different approaches to using the
power of the scrolls-control and
bonding. The first provided fast
results but would litter the magic
with conflict in the long run, while
the second took more time but
enabled the bearer to exact more
power over the element in ques-
tion. He advised them to speak
with a man named Ozlo on the
continent of Xantril; not only was
he learned in matters of planar
magic, but he was also the men-
tor to Kailia when she was alive.
However, before they headed to
Xantril, Lueanne Lightfinger, a
halfling with a not-quite-clean
slate, but perhaps just a victim of
circumstance, offered the group
an option she had heard from
Branderback's finest. Of course,
the origins of this information
were mostly left out of the con-
versation, but in some strange
manner typical to halflings, she
convinced her friends to go to
Dregar and enter the den of what
they will eventually discover to be
Shadow Thieves.
Sharina Shadowfang, leader of
the Shadow Thieves, and per-
haps the most feared figure of
the underground movements of
the world. Hooded in her dark
realm, she offered them informa-
tion for a simple item exchange.
With her usual twist of words, she
lied to the party, saying that Kailia
was part of the guild while mak-
ing sure she wasn't precise about
which guild it was, and that in her
abrupt death something of
Sharina's was left with Kailia's
body. She wanted only a set of
daggers in exchange for direction
on where to find more about her.
Seeing nothing wrong with this,
they agreed and Shadon's temple
in Arabel became a stop on their
list in the future.
Arabel is city of terrors and
demons, tyrannical home of tor-
ture, suffering, disease, famine
and violence of all kinds…and the
entrance to the underground
guild that was once led by Kailia
Hilliaraname: a passage found
with the temple of The
Irrepressible Scamp.
Though they were warned of the
strange creatures below, the bat-
tle-hardened group was confused
at how fiercely the earthy crea-
tures guarded the old caverns,
wondering what they could be
protecting with such urgency. It
was not until they came to the
central chamber that the answer
and the treasure were found.
Melizaphei called them
Multidimensional Planar Cavity
Folding Crystals. To Stone, what
they found it was simply a stor-
age gem, but in reality it held a
far greater impact. The beautiful
oversized emerald contained not
only Kailia's physical belongings,
but many of her memories as
well, passed onto it through
magic. It was at this moment that
the young Lucindite was instilled
with the memories of the elf, a
14
 Four Corners - Continued
new person born once more as
personalities mix and past
becomes present. Sharina's
request was fulfilled, the
weapons passed onto the halfling
with little knowledge of the dam-
age that would be done. Thus,
did they keep their word to the
ones in shadows.
A powerful hit of the Weave sur-
rounded them, called by some
primordial force as in the Lake of
Salt, a desert within the harsh-
ness of Xantril, they found Kelor's
servants trying to dislodge
Kailia's petrified corpse from the
sands it had melted in. With their
fortune, however, the Fire Giants
were defeated, and from her
body they retrieved the last part
of the amulet they had discov-
ered in Saudiria, the key to the
place where the scrolls would be
united, and now missing only the
Scroll of Fire.
Firesteep is a volcanic nightmare
of an island in the northern region
of the world, an unholy place of
destruction to Pyrtechon. And
home to the Ancient King of
Dragons--Fisterion. This is where
Lueanne's contacts in the
Shadow Thieves had labeled
Kelor's laboratory when the
exchange was made for informa-
tion.
By this time, the three that car-
ried scrolls now controlled their
elements more skillfully, and
could protect their presence by
working with one another to cloud
Kelor's attempts at spying if they
focused enough on it. They came
to the mountains of fire where
they found a hidden passage
leading them to the studies of the
corrupted elf, but when they
arrive within, they met so little
resistance they just knew they
were either walking into a trap or
the place had been recently
abandoned. Thankfully for their
sakes, it was the latter.
There was little of importance to
be found amongst the pieces of
debris. Kelor had officially moved
to Xantril in pacts with greater
forces, and so they found only
trivial laboratory annotations dic-
tating savage experiences when
attempting to control the Scroll of
Fire and a solid cube of some
strange alloy. Though they were
not able to piece or dismantle it,
their Weave senses told them
that something lay hidden within.
Somewhat disappointed in the
results, they left the premises and
turned back to Xantril.
The Great Forest is the heart of
Layonara, the home of the most
powerful druids in the world, and
the grounds on which rested the
tower of Ozlo, a mysterious figure
whose nature had as many
rumors as leaves in the forest,
and the place where they would
finally come to understand the
reality of the scrolls.
In times past, summoners would
conjure elementals of all kinds
when seeking aid of extra planar
matter. They had many options,
but were mostly limited to the
inert elements. After the many
wars in the world began, these
links began to weaken, and a
group of powerful individuals
gathered to fix this problem. A
conclusion was reached from the
research of these wizards,
Melizaphei among them. If the
links were not balanced and its
energies re-strengthened, sum-
mons would no longer work in the
world at all. As such, it was
decided that she would tend to
the balance of the links of the
inner planes with her scrolls,
while the rest of the world dealt
with summons provided from
other planes. That way, the old
link was nurtured, allowed to
grow and maintain a balance,
and Weave-gifted around the
world would still be able to call for
help through their magic.
Melizaphei gladly took this duty
upon her shoulders. The scrolls
held lesser powers that were
used as diplomats to the essence
of what linked those planes. She
would eventually fade into the
realm of balance, there to exist
until a replacement was found or
the power was spread amongst
bearers of the scrolls.
The news bore heavy on those
that listened with mouths agape--
the rest of their discussion with
Ozlo was casual compared to
what he had just shared. A sad
story unfolded when he opened
the box brought from Kelor's lab;
its contents had belonged to
Yimliara, Kailia's youngest sister.
A pair of weapons she used in
her life, mostly as toys, but show-
ing promise in their handling, and
a red storage gem, much like the
one they had found in the caves
under Arabel, with this one
instead holding Yimliara's belong-
ings. The allegiance and corrup-
tion between the siblings was
very clear at this point.
They thought the true sadness
behind Yimliara's story was that
the group had just learned where
she lived, and now they were on
their way to end her. Youth
corrupted by the persuasive
capability of age.
It was in the Roughlands, an area
of Xantril that remains in the
ruinous ecology that once cov-
ered the continent, full of ruins
and hidden secrets, where they
found the youngest member of
the seemingly cursed family. It
15
 Four Corners - Continued
was here where they would find
themselves fighting harder than
ever before. Kelor's training on
such bright minds showing in
truthfulness as steel and magic
tore against creatures made of
living magma. The group had
grown now, both in numbers and
in ability, and every challenge
was met with resolution and a
desire to put an end to this elon-
gated saga.
In the final chamber, they faced
Yimliara's mummified body
trapped in undeath. With skillful
use of the element, she was
taught every swath of fire that
spewed from her magic left scars
that while perhaps not showing
on the bodies of each struck,
may have marked their souls
instead. But they endured, and
after ending her corrupted mock-
ery of life, they recovered two
items from her decomposing
body: the blade of a sword, and a
sundered Scroll of Fire. The sight
of the ripped parchment of flames
bore heavily on their spirits, even
though it kept functioning through
magic. Darkness settled upon
them before the situation was to
turn again.
Their adventure finally led them
to where it all started--Voltrex.
The Bard of Ages recommended
that they speak with an elf named
Elrohir, a sage of great repute
that resided in Vale. He would be
able to open the gate of the elven
kingdom to this group, if they
could present a valid enough rea-
son. Of course, having recently
destroyed one of Sinthar's
Bloodpools within said continent
was just that. After they appealed
to Elrohir on the advise of
Ozymandias, he was both friend-
ly and forthcoming regarding their
request, asking only for their dis-
cretion when they were at the
elven home and trusting them to
do so.
Voltrex is heaven to the elves
that retreated there from the rest
of the world, a place of virgin
beauty and a conflicted past,
home to the graceful race that
wishes to shut out everything not
contained within its borders…and
now the place were a group of
Dragoncalled would bang on the
doors of the Hilliaraname house-
hold. They bore so many artifacts
and evidence of Melizaphei's
work that admission to their home
was granted, perhaps reluctantly,
but full of curiosity, seemingly a
common trait in the family. It was
Kailia's nephew who greeted
them, intrigued.
For long hours, they shared all
the knowledge they held, now
truly desperate to find an end to it
all. In a twist of good fate, the last
member of the family in the por-
trait, Kailia's older sister, Feawen,
made her appearance to the
group. She offered the last piece
of the puzzle needed to defeat
Kelor and restore the broken
Scroll of Fire.
Feawen explained that by ripping
the scroll in two, it meant that
either Kelor had truly lost his
mind, or that he had found a way
to penetrate Melizaphei's realm
without needing the other four
scrolls. Of course, knowing how
Feezeeaka
these things go, they assumed it
was the latter.
Alaamiathela
She brought clarity to a subject
that had been troubling them for
sometime, which was the reason
that the scrolls seemed to have
sentience within. Stone in Earth,
Alaamiathela in Water, and
Fezeeaka in Air. The raw energy
of the scrolls needed to flow
through a sentient being in order
to be properly translated into
functioning magic; and thus, the
spirits within them. Finally,
Feawen makes sure that they
know and understand the need to
exploit Kelor's weakness. He is
not beyond making pacts with
powerful creatures to gain immu-
nities, but there is one thing he
cannot fight--his own blood.
Stone
This was to be shown in a
weapon made by Melizaphei her-
self for her daughter Kailia, a
weapon of sound. The Singing
Sword. Love and care were
instilled in its crafting with the
magic of the family clear within its
runes. It was time for it to be
reforged.
16
 Four Corners - Continued
The blade they had recovered
from Yimliara and other pieces
hidden within the storage gem
that was found in Arabel. All they
needed was a quartz crystal. Not
any quartz naturally, but a partic-
ular one that could only be found
in caves deep within Voltrex,
underground where the old tun-
nels now stand empty. The Scroll
Bearers and their companions
took the last steps towards end-
ing the madness of an elf whose
life had been tainted with a lust
for power. The Quartz of Sound
was recovered and the reforging
of The Singing Sword was com-
pleted upon the highest peaks of
Voltrex, its magic merging with
the blade to be held in the hands
of the few who could confront
The Betrayer.
Giants Run Mountains is the
southwestern part of the great
mountain range that covers the
mid-eastern Xantril and home to
clans of fierce Giants, these
mountains are best avoided if
one does not want to end either
dead or slave to a Giant. Even
dwarves do not tread these
mountains lightly in their search
for ore. It was here that Kelor
Hilliaraname had made his new
home, in a tower erected from
magic that emitted enough power
to make it easily identifiable by
the Bearers.
It was a foreboding sight that
made some wonder if it would be
the last they would ever see.
Though they certainly didn't look
forward to what they would find
within, the many years of struggle
that they had now gone through,
all beginning from a story that
was dropped from the skies, gave
them enough steel to take odds
that seemed insurmountable.
Entering the tower was the easy
part. It was within that they would
be challenged both physically
and mentally. Kelor, at the height
of his power, did not fear the
'secret weapon' that the group
wielded, and taunted them for
their whole climb through the
tower. Many of his servants that
they had been forced against for
so long were to now face them
for the last time.
Beings were called from distant
places, elemental aspects that
were so pure and violent that
their mere auras seemed to
exude a sense of dread. Kelor's
constant taunting helped not at
all, but it was eventually at the
summit of his tower where they
were to confront him and his Azer
witch. With Singing Sword in the
hands of the young Lucindite,
and everyone else fully spelled
for the worse, they were aware
that not all would make it from
the tower alive.
In the very first charge against
the pair, the witch drained two of
the Scroll Bearers, removing all
the liquids from their bodies and
leaving dry heaps on the floor--
Talan and Dal'Venus had fallen.
Lueanne's quick hands and feet
kept her busy trying to aim for the
nimble halfling, and while they
battled magic against sheer dex-
terity, the others faced Kelor.
From the frail Ozymandias a
baleful dirge pierced his ears and
weakened him greatly, while he
was stripped of the enchantments
that were crippling the group by
Ramanon's dark magic. A seem-
ingly harmless goblin named
Bilvikki aided those he could with
his spells, speeding the pace of
battle and pouring pure force to
the targets he could make. A con-
flicted Drow paladin, the anomaly
Synal'dur clove with blade in
hand to damage and distract
Kelor as much as he could.
Serenity, now called Eldárwen,
the young priestess of Lucinda
grown into a greater role, pierced
pure sound into their hated
enemy.
When the dust settled and the
sweat streamed from all around,
a blade was stuck in his corrupt-
ed heart. Kelor lay deep in a pool
of his own blood, his witch with a
short sword driven through her
back.
Calls to the Weave were made,
and the bodies of those lost to
battle were restored by the grace
of the Lady of Spells. As they
recovered from the onslaught,
those who were able searched
for the missing half of the Scroll
of Fire and, after joining it with its
mate, liberated the being within:
Jaldrix, a powerful Azer Chieftain
that had suffered far too long in
the hands of the wicked.
Jaldrix
What had Kelor been attempting?
The answer may never be
known--perhaps he truly had
gone mad. Yet the fact that so
many, so powerful, had aided
these adventurers along the way
perhaps indicates the importance
of what was risked.
After this battle and a brief
17
 Four Corners - Continued
respite, it was time to return to
the place of balance, back to
Alibor, by the magic of the ele-
ments. Jaldrix was free of the
scroll and holding the magic
through sheer self-determination,
but was unable to use it to its full
potential without a Bearer.
Instead, he could only keep it in
check.
Within the realm of balance, reali-
ty took a new shape. The area
was an extension of Melizaphei
and her work, and it now served
to test the Bearers one last time
in order to see how much of the
magic they could hold, who they
were, and what they were capa-
ble of. To know them through
magic.
Four Primal Elementals stood
guard within this chamber. They
asked questions intended to
judge character, knowledge, and
intent. Each Scroll Bearer was
confronted with queries that test-
ed their minds after so much
effort--questions that were
answered alone and with a sense
Pictures from Pankoki’s Album
of finality to them that was difficult
to ignore.
What happened when those
questions were answered? Were
they right? Were they wrong? Did
the good guys "win"? Those are
thoughts that will always linger
with the Bearers of the Scrolls of
Melizaphei. Yet in the end, they
managed to move past the
guardians, to finally meet the
Mad Sparkler, Melizaphei
Hilliaraname.
Her form was that of the leg-
endary Baelnorn of old. Undead,
not of a desire to spread evil or a
hunger for power, but a need to
preserve the forces she kept in
check. She had been locked in
the chamber for a few centuries
protecting the links that allowed
Layonara to contact summons
from beyond. She was nearing
her last days, her form slowly
fading into the Weave. It was in
the group's hands to either return
the scrolls to Melizaphei and with
it the energy and their power,
fueling her soul for a few more
centuries, or embrace the links
themselves, liberate the scrolls
and allow Melizaphei to rest.
The latter was a heavy toll, yet
after so long bearing the scrolls
and coming to know the beings
within, it was impossible for them
to let go. They took on a respon-
sibility that for all they knew might
be theirs forever, even after
death. Melizaphei was freed, but
as her soul was seen fading, the
touch of Lucinda was felt in the
chamber, and the Creator of the
Scrolls was restored to have a
second chance at a life that she
had missed in service.
And thus the saga of Melizaphei's
scrolls ended. New bearers of
magic were forever bound
through blood, tears, and happi-
ness. From there on, each of the
Bearers were to become gates to
a realm beyond, and with them,
the elemental creatures called
The Weird were to protect the
links of summoning.
But that is another story....
18
 WARHAMMER
Tabletop Miniature Warfare
Reviewed by Phil Lynch (Philhappy)

The army of the Byrnak Clan Dwarves stood and waited for the invaders to arrive.
It would not be long now. The sound of drums and the shrieks and cries from the
Crooked Moon Night Goblins had carried on the wind for some time now. Once again, the
gold mines at Skull Pass were under threat, but the hearts of dwarves are firm and their
axes sharp; their resolve to win would not be shaken today. Despite the black clouds that
covered the sky, the armor of the Dwarven Hammerers and Thunderers gleamed;
adorned with gold cut from the very mines they stood to protect. As the Night Goblins
banners slowly came into view, the Dwarven Thane gave the order to move forward.
The army of the Crooked Moon Tribe was strong in numbers and this gave them
the confidence to attack. The occasional bout of squabbling would break out within the
ranks, but a scream of rage from the Big Boss would quickly get them back in line. The
regiment of Spider Riders was eager though. There was a good chance they would break
and attack the first thing they saw. A sudden increase in shouts and screams from the
front line of goblins meant the dwarves had been spotted. The Big Boss gave the order to
quicken the pace. A loud bellow came from the huge troll that accompanied them and
echoed around Skull Pass. The ground around them shook as the trolls’ feet pounded into
it at the increased speed.
As the armies drew closer to each other, their momentum increased, driven on by
four thousand years of mutual hatred. A volley of arrows from the Night Goblins spurred
the dwarves into a charge. The battle cries of dwarf and goblin alike slowly rose in vol-
ume until it explodes in a clash of steel, accentuated by the boom of dwarven cannons
and the roar of the troll as it hurled boulders....

So, begins the Battle for Skull Pass, another skirmish in a world of perpetual
war in the land of Warhammer.

September 2006 marked two major releases
from Games Workshop, the seventh edition of
the Warhammer Fantasy Battles Rulebook and
the box set, Battle for Skull Pass. The box set is
a very nice and affordable collection of minia-
tures for anyone already engrossed in the world
of tabletop battles and also stands as a perfect
entry level kit for anyone wanting to get started.
The box contains everything needed to start
playing: a Starter Booklet, a pocket-sized
Condensed Rulebook, dice, scenery, and over
100 miniatures featuring an army of dwarves and
an army of Night Goblins.
The new Rulebook stands as a complete guide
to Fantasy Warhammer; included in the book are
all the in-depth rules of the game as well as sec-
tions on the Warhammer World (detailing the his-
tory of the land and the fifteen different armies
that constantly fight there), the Warhammer
Hobby (everything you need to know about paint-
ing and assembling of miniatures) and a
“Gaming” section that contains three scenarios
and ideas on different ways to play and expand
your own games.
The game itself is played on any suitable surface
(a 6' by 4' table being a good example) by two or
more players who wage war with their chosen
army of miniatures. Armies of orcs, goblins,
dwarves, elves, undead, skaven, lizardmen, etc.,
battle it out to either complete objectives or just
annihilate the enemy.
The game play is turn based, and follows a pat-
tern of troop movements, a ranged shooting

19
 WARHAMMER - Continued
round, magic casting round and a combat round.
Combat is worked out via a unit's stats, number
of creatures in the unit and dice rolls. If a
squadron of 20 goblins attack some dwarves and
the goblins stand in a formation with six at the
front, six D6 are rolled to see how many of those
gobbos hit; goblins might be pretty nimble so
they only need to roll a two or higher to do this. If
four of the green skins hit, then four D6 are rolled
to see how many of the hits cause wounds on
the dwarves (individual characters within a unit
can receive one wound, once they receive it they
die, larger figures like heroes or trolls can have
two or more wounds).
“...the more you put in the more
you get out of it.”
Goblins may be nimble but they sure aren't
strong, rolls of four or higher are needed to
cause wounds and only three of the four hits
make contact. Next the defending dwarves get a
chance to roll three D6 to try and block the three
wounds; dwarves are tough and only need to roll
a two or higher to see the goblin swords bounce
off their armor. At the end of the round, one dwarf
falls to the ground dead and the rest of them get
ready to start swinging with axes and hammers.
Once the dwarves have taken their turn, the two
opposing units weigh up the skirmish by compar-
ing the difference in points gained in the battle.
Points are gained for how many of the enemy
are killed, carrying a confidence building banner
and/or outnumbering their foe. Dice are again
rolled based on these points, to see if the two
units continue to fight it out in the next round or if
one of the units panics and runs. Fleeing troops
roll dice to see how far they can run and then try
to regroup, while the other unit has the option to
chase them down and try to finish them off, or
move off to engage another unit.
Ok, so this is a very simplified (and probably
wildly inaccurate) run down of the game play but
it gets the point across of how easy it is to start
playing, and of course the more you play the
more complicated the rules can get. This seems
to be true of all aspects of Warhammer and
indeed Games Workshop; the more you put in
the more you get out of it. Games Workshop put
a lot of time and effort into creating quality prod-
ucts and keeping their stores friendly and family
orientated.
The story of Games Workshop starts in an apart-
ment in London back in 1975, where Ian
Livingstone, Steve Jackson, and John Peake
started the company with the intention of making
and selling new games. They started off as a
mail-order company and manufactured wooden
board games like Backgammon right there in the
flat. They wrote and published their own maga-
zine, Owl and Weasel, in the hopes that it would
get their name known and generate some busi-
ness. Somewhere along the line, a copy fell into
the hands of Gary Gygax, co-creator of a brand
new and highly original game…Dungeons &
Dragons. D&D had been turned down by all the
major game companies in the U.S. and so Gygax
was trying to distribute the game himself from an
apartment in Wisconsin under the name TSR
Hobbies. A review copy of D&D was sent to
Game Workshop and immediately Livingstone
and Jackson were hooked. They ordered six
copies of the game, dedicated an issue of Owl
and Weasel to the game, signed a three year
deal for the European distribution rights, and the
orders started to flood in.
“The story of Games Workshop
starts in an apartment in London
back in 1975....”
The role-playing game has taking the world by
storm and more and more companies were jump-
ing on the bandwagon and creating new RPG's.
Games Workshop was picking up the distribution
right for Europe and the next logical step was to
open a shop. To help advertise the new shop
Livingston and Jackson decided to create a new
20
 WARHAMMER - Continued
magazine dedicated to the world of RPG's and
gaming. In the summer of '77, the first issue of
White Dwarf was printed and in the spring of '78
the first Games Workshop store opened. People
were traveling from all over Europe to visit the
shop and more and more stores had to open to
meet the increasing demand for fantasy gaming.
Also, at this time, the use of small, metal minia-
tures while playing RPG's was on the increase,
so Livingston and Jackson started another com-
pany to design and manufacture them called
Citadel Miniatures. These figurines, depicting all
manner of fantastical creatures, quickly caught
the publics' eye and became highly collectable.
Livingston and Jackson's next big brainstorm
was the idea to merge the interactive aspect of
an RPG with a book and so the Fighting Fantasy
Gamebook was born in 1981. Titles like "The
Warlock of Firetop Mountain" and "Deathtrap
Dungeon" sold by the thousands and introduced
even more people to the world of fantasy gam-
ing. The demand for these game books gradually
made Livingston and Jackson move away from
Games Workshop so they could concentrate on
writing; and the years after that, saw them slowly
move into the world of computer games where
Livingston helped to introduce the world to a
young woman named Lara Croft.
While Livingston and Jackson were creating the
Fighting Fantasy series, Citadel Miniatures was
quickly becoming the biggest miniature selling
company in the world. People were constantly
buying and painting all the models they could.
While these models were being used a handful at
a time in RPG's, Games Workshop decided it
would be a good idea to devise a set of rules that
would allow players to use all the miniatures they
had in one giant battle; and so in 1983, the first
edition of Warhammer was released. It became
immensely popular and quickly began to out sell
all other games on the market. Its popularity led
Games Workshop to stop selling other gaming
products and the magazine White Dwarf exclu-
sively covered the same range.
Over the years, the Warhammer universe has
continued to expand in different forms. New
miniatures are constantly designed and released
by Citadel, a science fiction version of the game
is available called Warhammer 40,000, there's a
Warhammer fantasy role-playing game, as well
as hundreds of novels set in this land of eternal
conflict. There are individual source books and
collectors guides for each of the different armies
available, giving detailed histories of the race and
the miniatures available. The popularity of the
Lord of the Rings movies has drawn more people
into the world of fantasy gaming, and Games
Workshop secured the rights for the tabletop bat-
tle version and a series of miniatures based on
the designs used in the film.
“The Warhammer hobby encourages
people to collect and paint their armies
for use on the battlefield. The more
you put into your army, the more
effective it becomes in the game.”
It really is the miniatures that draw people into
Warhammer; a fully painted army of orcs or elves
placed on a well-built tabletop landscape is an
impressive sight. The Warhammer hobby encour-
ages people to collect and paint their armies for
use on the battlefield. The more you put into your
army, the more effective it becomes in the game.
The rules keep the game balanced though.
Before each battle the players agree on a num-
ber of points that can be spent on an army, say
2000, and each regiment of troops has it own
point value; a unit of 20 tough Dwarven
Hammerers might cost over 300 pts to place on
the table and the goblin army could spend the
same amount of points on 30 Night Goblins and
a unit of 10 Wolf Riders. Owning more miniatures
won't give a player an advantage by outnumber-
ing with strong troops, but having a better selec-
tion to chose from at the start might. A good
choice of units and how they are deployed and
moved in the battle will make or break it for the
player. Luck plays a big part in the game (look on
21
 WARHAMMER - Continued
and laugh as your opponent rolls eight dice, only The following images are
to see eight little snake eyes looking back up at from the Games-Workshop/
them) but a good battle strategy can be hard to Warhammer website:
beat. The simplicity of the rules means the game
never becomes long, drawn out or boring, in fact
the battle can move along at a furious pace.

The best way to experience the Warhammer uni-

verse is to go to your local Games Workshop
and have a look. The staff are eager to tell you
all about the world of table-top battles and will
run you through the basic rules and have you
playing a trial game in no time. Games Workshop
run regular competitions and in-store events for
both long-time hobbyists and beginners alike.

“...if you are looking to get started,

you really can’t go wrong with the
Battle for Skull Pass set: rules, dice
and two armies ready to charge into
battle.... Waaagh!

The stores are always a hive of activity, with peo-

ple playing games and painting miniatures.
Games Workshop maintains a friendly and fami-
ly-oriented atmosphere and run beginners days
for children. Once you played a quick rules game
you can book yourself in for a game session,
where they will run you through a full battle and
explain all the rules to you in detail. Then it's just
a matter of picking the army of miniatures you
want to start collecting and battling your oppo-
nents with. Of course, if you are looking to get
started, you really can't go wrong with the Battle
for Skull Pass set: rules, dice and two armies
ready to charge into battle.… Waaagh!

If you're interested in Warhammer, Citadel

Miniatures or any of the Games Workshop prod-
ucts, all the information needed can be found at:

www.games-workshop.com

Special thanks to Paul Hickey and Rob Riley at

Games Workshop in Dublin, Ireland, for all the
help.

22
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29
 Portrait of a Character
Here we take a little time to spotlight the very ones without whom there
would be no role-playing games at all--the characters! This issue we’ll
begin with our own Phil Lynch (Philhappy) as he spends a few moments
with an enterprising Brownie from the World of Layonara:
Bumblebee
He may be a brownie and only stands 20 inches tall, but what he lacks in stature he
makes up for with a hearty laugh and some big ideas. He takes a low bow and introduces
himself: Poaspmihpihih…or Bumblebee, in the common tongue.

Bumblebee was raised by his parents in the attic of a grain merchant in Prantz. It was
here that he learned the skills to survive; killing rats with a single shot from his small
bow and staying out of the sight of the tall folk. His inquisitive nature led him out of the
attic and into the shadows of Prantz where, perched on a crate or sitting in a dark corner,
he watched and learned the ways of the tall folk in the city.

As his confidence and skill with the bow increased, so did his desire to travel and seek
out adventure. And so, bidding farewell to his family, Bumblebee set off for the city of
Lor, looking for high adventure and news of other brownies in the land. However, the path
he took, led him to dreams of dragons and a small town called Hlint. It was here that
Bumblebee created The Dragons Whisper. Originally started as a way of trying to find
more brownies, The Dragons Whisper has grown to become the biggest selling newspaper
on Layonara. Bumblebee's skills at staying unnoticed helped secure stories and informa-
tion that would have otherwise gone unheard and The Dragons Whisper is now essential
reading for adventurers across the land.

We were able to talk him out of a few moments of his busy schedule to sit down with us
for more to his fantastic tale....

WHAT IS LIFE LIKE AS A BROWNIE?
It is actually quite lonely. Lasting relationships
with fellow brownies, dispersed by events on the
Serpent Isle of Daraghan, are few and far
between. I had expected to find more of my kin
during my own journeys; others seeking answers
to their own personal questions. Alas, in my five
years away from home I have come across but a
single hand's count of them.
WHY DID YOU START A NEWSPAPER?
Really it began as a way to find more brownies.
My first issues, written on the back of previously
used parchments, were short and included a
message for them. Not a single one, though,
responded to my queries. After a time, as The
Dragon's Whisper grew in reputation and sub-
scribers, my purpose became one of preserva-
tion. The war with Bloodstone was raging during
these years, and I felt that this period of history
ought to be recorded for future generations of all
races. That continues to be my goal: to record
the doings of those that will one day be recalled
in legends and lore.
THE DRAGONS WHISPER HAS BECOME AN
INVALUABLE SOURCE OF INFORMATION
FOR ADVENTURERS. DID IT TAKE LONG FOR
YOUR READERSHIP TO GROW?
Perhaps the largest obstacle to increasing the
number of readers is my own lack of salesman-
ship. I am not a skilled orator, nor am I a skilled
storyteller for that matter. During the first year of

30
 Portrait: Bumblebee - Continued
the newsletter, I had not the confidence to
approach many travelers. We brownies are a
reclusive folk: I was raised to stay out of sight.
Gradually, I knew and recognized more of the
people that if not residents at least were com-
monly seen in Hlint. I would approach a few
mentioning the newsletter and ask for tales to be
shared. Some would purchase a newsletter per-
haps paying for several issues in advance.
It would have been impossible for any of this
without falcon messengers. Their reliability is leg-
endary, as I am sure you are aware, and I used
them exclusively. Even during my first year when
coins went for parchment while I went hungry.
WHAT'S THE HARDEST THING ABOUT
RUNNING A NEWSPAPER?
Truly, the most difficult thing is completing a tale.
Often a whisper will reach my ears only to go no
further. A tale without an ending will not become
a legend of much regard. The town criers, though
well connected, deal in such hints and innuen-
dos. My greatest challenge is weaving the many
whispers together until their conclusion.
To make up for my own shortcomings as a story-
teller, I often implore more seasoned travelers to
part with tales already complete. Some do will-
ingly, others do with much cajoling, but most
share nothing. It is understandable since these
travelers daily bread consists of surviving to
greet the next day. It is because I know some will
fall with stories untold that I continue to strain to
hear the whispered tale of legend on the air.
WHAT DO YOU LIKE MOST ABOUT RUNNING
A NEWSPAPER?
The most? I get to see all of the world. Every
corner contains a relic of the past, a story in
need of recovery. How many crumbling ruins of
castles are passed without a glance? How many
chasms with hints of a stairway beckon one
downward? And what better excuse to venture
forth with other travelers than to seek out these
stories? What I like most is the inherent excuse
for travel.
HOW DID YOU GET IN TO ADVENTURING?
ISN'T IT A LITTLE DIFFICULT GETTING THE
RESPECT OF SOME OF THE NEFARIOUS
CREATURES AND FELLOW ADVENTURERS
OUT THERE GIVEN YOUR STATURE?
Absolutely. I have neither the skills nor the con-
stitution to address many of the problems that
arise during travel. That, I leave to the ones that
make there living doing such things. Though I
lend what aid I may, of course, I do not pretend
to be more than an assisting hand. More than
once I have made my excuses and returned to
trails known to be safe.
Part of an announcement of a past Special
Edition of The Dragon’s Whisper.
WHAT ARE YOUR HOPES FOR THE FUTURE,
BOTH FOR YOURSELF & THE NEWSPAPER?
With continued support from patrons and sub-
scribers, perhaps someday The Dragon's
Whisper will become more than myself. The tales
will continue with or without their recording for
permanence. Now that you mention it, perhaps
my legacy will be a newsletter that will, decades
from now, still be referred to by the bards of
tomorrow for their material. If you would like to
purchase The Dragons Whisper or start a sub-
scription, contact Bumblebee or take a look at
the notices in the Wild Surge Inn. It is available
for 100gp an issue and is delivered by messen-
ger falcon.
31
 Portrait of a Character
We continue now with one of the characters in his player’s own words
describing his first visit to the hamlet of Hlint. Here is:
Andy Mellecker (Guardian 452/Enzo)
As Enzo passes through the small frontier town
of Hlint, he notices a halfling and a man dressed
in green speaking to Granvil about his trade
routes. He watches for a moment and blinks, his
mind transporting him to a similar scene, to the
day he arrived in Hlint so many years ago.
Instead of this halfling, there is Merry Thorn, the
Halfling Ranger who took Enzo out to help slay
the leader of the goblins that plague Granvil's
trade routes. In the back of his mind he can hear
Merry say, "I don't know how to hide…it's you tall
folk who don't know how to look!" He remembers
fondly all the things that Merry taught him about
using the shadows before the memory recedes
once more and the halfling is again a stranger.
Enzo shakes his head with his usual half-grin
and enters the Wild Surge Inn, making his way to
a table and sitting as usual with his back against
the wall. The muted talk of other patrons blurs
together, and the familiarity of the scene sends
him back to replay the day he got up the nerve to
ask about The Prince of Wolves. He had been
sitting alone, listening to the conversations about
Enzo Reynolt.
the room; at one table, a husband and wife were
discussing the possibility of a third child; at
another, two men were making snide comments
about their waitress. An old man at yet another
table had been complaining that his food wasn't
prepared in the exact way he ordered it. Enzo's
mind had left all of these conversations as soon
as they reached his ears, but one topic caught
his attention. It seemed then that some adventur-
ers were discussing what god each of them
served. He heard all the names he'd heard
before, like Lucinda, Dorand, and Ilsare, but a
quiet ranger mentioned a name that Enzo had
heard but rarely on the lips of other rangers. The
name was Folian S'pae. Enzo finished his meal,
tossed a generous amount of coin on the table,
and walked over to the ranger to ask him if they
could talk a moment. The ranger nodded and the
two moved to a quieter table, where Enzo cut
right to the chase and asked about the name
Folian S'pae. The ranger just grinned and asked,
"What of him?" Enzo asked all kinds of ques-
tions, one right after the other, and in such num-
bers that the ranger hardly had a chance to
answer. Finally, the ranger held out
his hand and said, "You won't find
him, no matter how hard you look. I
don't care if you can track a
snowflake through a blizzard, you
won't find him. But if you hold to the
path and do not stray from what you
believe, he just may find you."
He looks up as the waitress
approaches his table, and after a
moment to clear his mind he orders
his meal.
Meeting New Friends
We find Enzo today at his desk at
the Wolfswood Ranger
Headquarters. Stacked in front of
32
 Portrait: Enzo - Continued
him are duty rosters and other documents that
await his signature. He sighs as he looks at the
large pile and picks up the first sheet; it is a
report on a patrol of the Eastern edge of the
Wolfswoods Forest from 2nd Lieutenant Duran
Melden. The name swims in front of him as he is
reminded of his dwarven friend Duran Axehaft
and of his other friends: Plenarius, Arenis,
Rhizome, and Elrond…"The Red Caps," they had
called themselves.
Enzo glances at a worn and dented helmet of
adamantium sitting next to his desk and smiles
slightly, remembering the day Plenarius had
handed him that helmet and how proud he had
felt wearing it amongst his peers. As images of
past Red Cap adventures dance in his head, he
imagines for a moment that he can hear clearly
Duran's famous battle cry… "For Me Pal, Vorax!"
Enzo grins and actually laughs out loud (though
thankfully he was alone in the building at the
time). His mind drudges up an image of Rhizome
as Enzo remembers meeting him for the first
time, and how the two of them grew to become
the best of friends. Even the love of the same
women did not sever the friendship they had
formed. As he realizes that he's still holding the
report in his hand, the memories fade and the
Commander of the Wood reluctantly goes back
to work.
A few days have passed now, and after digging
some sand on the shore of Lake Alon, Enzo sits
next to the creek that feeds the lake to take a
much-needed break. As he drifts in and out of a
doze, he cannot help but remember the day he
first met Nawen, an elven druid, in this very spot.
He reaches into a pocket of his clothing and pulls
out a worn, tattered piece of parchment. On it is
the poem he was inspired to write about his first
love.
As she walks by I stop and stare.
Her face and smile so soft and fair.
In her eyes I can drift away.
It's in those eyes that I wish to stay.
Stay forever and not go back.
And remove the weight of the world from
my back.
When she puts her hand in mine.
It's as if she stops the sands of time.
In her arms I feel safe and warm.
In those arms none can bring me harm.
She knows of my hopes and all of my fears.
She says she can taste them in my tears.
How will I make through each day?
It's in those eyes I shall find my way.
He looks through the parchment without seeing it
as he remembers when he had to let her go
because she wanted to be with Rhizome. He had
always told her that it didn't bother him, but it
always had…he never felt right traveling with the
both of them. In time he could not suppress his
feelings any longer, and he finally confronted
Nawen, only to find out that she shared his feel-
ings. Rhizome had been furious when he found
out.... Corath take you!!" he had shouted in his
friend's face. Enzo had won his love back…but it
had cost him his dearest friend--or at least that is
what he had thought at the time. In time Rhizome
came to accept what took place, and they all
continued on…and then one day she was gone.
No letter, no goodbye…just…gone. Where could
she have gone? The memory and the question
retreat to the back of his mind for the day and
Enzo stands to call for the hawk he had seen cir-
cling overhead. He gives it the tattered poem and
instructs the hawk to seek out a certain elven
woman and deliver it to her.
Finding His Father
In his home in the Ranger's Vale, Enzo leans
back in his chair and looks to the fireplace and
his bow leaning beside it. His family had been
attacked by a pack of wolves, long ago…he can
still see the image of the wolf sinking its teeth
into his father's arm, and his mother being
mauled to death by another, but try as he might,
33
 Portrait: Enzo - Continued
he cannot recall the moment that he took his
father's bow into his own hands and drew back
its mighty string to kill the wolves that had
attacked them. Above the fireplace still hangs a
shield used by his father Wellman Reynolt when
he was a member of the Wolfswood corps.
Wellman had lost his right arm below the elbow
in that fight, and Enzo had looked after his father
from then on, and can still remember the day the
senior Reynolt had vanished. Enzo had tracked
him for days before eventually losing his trail,
and then he'd found himself in Hlint, being taken
around town by Merry Thorn. Years had passed
and Enzo had focused on a new task--defeating
Sinthar Bloodstone, though he had never given
up on finding his father. It was years ago that he
finally had--he and Rhizome had discovered
Wellman in Lar, and Enzo can visualize the right
cross he'd landed on his father's jaw after walk-
ing up to him. He'd been so upset that he'd just
up and vanished. In time, he grew to accept his
father's way of telling Enzo that it was time for
him to move on. Seemingly spurred into action
by this memory, Enzo grabs his bow and heads
out the door into the Sielwood Forest.
Tainted Blood
Another day, and in another place, the
far-traveling ranger spies something in
the distance while passing through the
Dark Forest of Dregar. His hand
clenches tightly around his bow, mak-
ing the leather of his glove crackle as
he says in a flat, hushed voice:
"Vampire...." A silver-tipped arrow is
nocked while he watches it from a dis-
tance, remembering his duel with the
Dark Dawn Hunter years ago. Enzo
was bitten by him and found himself
slowly becoming what he most
despised. His vision centers on his
target as he recalls how "The Red
Caps" had come to his aid then, and how he had
triumphed over the Dark Dawn Hunter in a sec-
ond duel. The images in front of him contort
against his will to the memories of Nawen lying in
his arms, tainted with vampiric blood and with a
stake thrust into her chest by his own hands. As
he relives the event in the present, his mind
becomes a red haze and the vampire he was
stalking is slain and a stake driven into its heart.
The Broken Forest
Enzo skirts the places of devastation in the
Broken Forest, slipping unseen past the vicious
crawling vines that now lurk within these woods.
He can't help but think back on how it used to be,
recalling a time where every inch of these woods
was crawling with undead. He pauses to rest
against one of the trees as he takes stock of its
current state, slowly merging it in his mind with
its past and the events that occurred here.
"Triba...." he whispers. The "Lil' Ranger" Triba,
Enzo, Rhizome, Ozy, and others had helped to
remove that heavy taint of undead from this for-
est years ago, all but the one area… Selian had
appeared and asked that they not disturb the
grave that lay in the clearing. Seeing the now
disturbed grave and knowing now the purpose it
had served, he says quietly aloud, "I can see
why you didn't want us to mess with it now...."
Enzo in the desert.
Becoming a Wolfswood Ranger
Now a hot summer day, Enzo stops in the
Wolfswood Forest as he spies a Dire Bear a hun-
dred yards or so away. As he studies the animal
34
 Portrait: Enzo - Continued
from a distance, he remembers Scratch, the
enormous dire bear Dimitri (an outcast member
of the Wolfswood Elite Ranger Corps) had trav-
eled with. Dimitri was forced to leave the corps
after slaying the son of a nobleman. Enzo had
learned about him from Johan the fur trader;
Dimitri had a reputation that left this ranger in
awe. The nobleman Gordon Flint had hatched a
sinister plan to kill Dimitri and destroy the
Wolfswood Forest in the process, all to avenge
the death of his son. His mind replays the events
that unfolded for him, and then he sees her…his
first love Nawen, her identity so hard to accept
because it couldn't have been her, she was…a
vampire. Enzo's eyes close as he sees again
Nawen lying in his arms. She had been about to
sink her teeth into Rhizome's neck, his friend
who was unconscious beside them. He had the
heart-wrenching choice of Rhizome's life or the
stake. If he wished to save his friend, he would
have to kill his first love.... He had made his
choice, if it could even be called that, and the
stake was driven through Nawen's chest. As she
lay in his arms, she started to change…looking
more like her old self. She thanked Enzo for set-
ting her free, and with a single touch she revived
Rhizome, and freed the Wolfswood from the
curse the Baron Flint had set upon it…and then
she was gone. For helping the forest, Enzo was
granted membership into the Wolfswood Ranger
Corps, but Nawen was no less gone.
He shakes his head to clear his mind of nostalgia
and continues through the Wolfswood Forest
until he realizes he is just about to enter the part
of the woods where the nymph resides. He grins
as he recalls the day he was taken deep within
her tree and shown the true meaning of passion,
though he hadn't realized until his friends
informed him later that he was lucky to have sur-
vived. With an amused glance in that direction,
he says to himself, "Better not go through here,
not sure I can handle that a second time…hmm,
but what a way to go!" Enzo chuckles to himself
and takes a different route through the forest.
Rescuing His Father From the Drow
As Enzo makes the climb to the snowy little town
of Lar, he is, as always, reminded of when he
had come to his father's home there and found it
ransacked, his father missing. The drow had kid-
napped him and used Gordon Flint as some kind
of cover up…with the help of his friends he found
his father in Flint's home and freed him, but
those events had only furthered the hatred for
drow still present in Enzo, encouraging him to
spend much time studying them, learning their
weaknesses, and learning to take full advantage
of them in battle.
Goodbye to an Old Companion
Enzo stood in a densely wooded section of the
Wolfswoods forest with his companion at his
side, Thornas, a wild boar that Enzo had rescued
years before, all the way back to when he was
first called by the golden dragon.
The ranger sat himself on a stump and patted his
thigh for Thornas to move closer. The boar nuz-
zled his snout under Enzo's hand and had his
nose scratched in return. Enzo couldn't help but
notice that the hairs around his friend's nose and
eyes had grayed significantly in the past year.
"It is that time old friend.... It's time for you to go
back to the woods again." Thornas tilted his head
to look up at Enzo. "You're gettin' too old to be
runnin' off with me on my half-baked adventures.
It's time you settled down, while you still can."
Thornas shifted his feet as he looked up at Enzo,
who could sense that his old friend was asking
something like, "Why now?" Why Enzo would
want him to go now, after all that time together. "I
can't stand the thought of seeing you hurt
because of the things I drag you into, my old
friend. You know as well as I do that you're no
match for some of the things I face these days.
Hells, sometimes I'm not a match for it myself."
Thornas seemed saddened, but the ranger could
see that he understood what Enzo was telling
him. "Now, don't you think I will be forgettin' you.
I will come to see you from time to time as I pass
through the Wolfswoods."
35
 Portrait: Enzo - Continued
Enzo slid off the stump he had been sitting on,
and gave the boar a hug. "Now, go on and find
some goblins ta pester." He smiled while scratch-
ing the boar's head. Thornas snorted and rubbed
his nose on Enzo's face, and then he slowly
walked off into the forest, stopping every few
yards to look back at his old comrade. Enzo
managed to get a few words out for him. "It is for
the best…goodbye, my friend." With that, he got
up and walked away, vanishing into the forest.
Now, we find Enzo deep in the tainted woods of
the Dark Forest. He easily goes unnoticed in the
forest as black as pitch, sticking always to the
shadows as he slinks along the wood line. He
passes enormous spiders and dark treants as he
cautiously makes his way to a swampy section
within the forest. There he avoids numerous spi-
ders, each one seeming more powerful than the
last. He dares not give away his position to any
of them.
Enzo at the edge of a cliff.
He makes his way to a stone entrance jutting up
from the dark soil and thinks to himself, "This
must be Mosscrypt that I have heard of. Some
say it is the cause of the taint in these woods."
As Enzo approaches the crypt from the rear, a
figure emerges from its shadowed entrance.
Enzo can sense that this is a being of significant
power and instinctively hits the deck, hiding
behind the ledge of the entrance. Peering over it
just enough to observe the figure, he watches it
lower its hands to the ground and then in a trem-
bling motion raised them skywards as if com-
manding something from the earth itself. The
ground shakes in response, and a mass of skele-
tons drags itself out of it a moment later. Enzo
can see that these are nothing like the walking
bones in the crypts of Hlint…these are more dan-
gerous by far. The dark figure then points down
into the Mosscrypt, snaps his fingers, and then
from out of it comes an enormous golem, the
likes of which Enzo has seen maybe only once
before. Its entire body glimmers with a metallic
sheen similar to that of a polished suit of
adamantium. The summoner points again to one
direction and then another; the skeletons leaving
one by one to where they are commanded.
Enzo crawls back to the wood line before getting
up and following one skeleton eastward…it
approaches a few panthers that are huddled in a
corner of the clearing. The summoned
creature just walks right up to one of
them with the sound that only walking
bones can make, and in one fell swoop
of its staff slays it. Enzo's hand instinc-
tively grasps his sword as he flinches,
but then the skeleton turns and also kills
a nearby spider. This puzzles the ranger
somewhat, but before he has time to
think about it, the undead has turned
again and killed the second of the pan-
ther trio. At this, Enzo creeps forward
slightly, waiting until just before the last
panther is to be struck down before
leaping from the shadows. He is not
fully prepared for the battle that he has
started, and suffers for it, taking a beat-
ing from the powerful skeleton until he
sees the panther lunge from behind him to strike
as well. Seeing this helps Enzo to draw upon an
inner strength, and he puts all his might behind
his blade to finally best his enemy.
His sword drops to the ground as his hand auto-
matically grasps at a gaping wound in his side.
While applying what bandages he has to stop the
bleeding for now, he notices that the panther is
36
 Portrait: Enzo - Continued
still standing there watching him.
Enzo speaks to the panther in a deep, saddened
voice. "I'm sorry I could not save your friends,
sleek one." The panther looks up at him and
gives a nod of its head before streaking off into
the thick forest cover and vanishing. As for Enzo,
he heads back the way he came from looking for
a place to rest and recover from the wounds he
was dealt in the battle. As he walks, though, he
can sense that he is being watched from the tree
cover, a stalker that follows his steps. He finds a
quiet spot a few hundred yards away from the
swamp and settles down to recuperate; but all
the while, he can sense his silent watcher.
As Enzo relaxes by the small fire he has set and
slowly nods off into a light doze, a twig snaps
behind him. In an instant he is alert again, but
not yet acting--keeping his body still and his eyes
closed. A few seconds pass, and another snap is
heard, closer than the last. His hand slides down
to his sword in a silent, subtle motion as his fine-
ly tuned senses catches the sound of movement
that can't be more than five feet from him. He
waits for a few more seconds for it to come yet
closer, then in a flash whips around with his
sword in hand, only to find, standing inches from
the tip of his blade, the last of the three panthers,
the one he had intervened for. It stares at him
with unblinking eyes that glint green in the fire-
light, and Enzo slowly lowers his sword and
extends his hand. Slowly the sleek feline
approaches him, sniffing the hand before coming
right up beside him and lying down between
Enzo and the fire.
"Well, I'm glad to see you made it out of that
swamp; it looks like you're as good as me at hid-
ing in the shadows." He scratches the panther's
head and strokes his hand down the fur of its
back. The ranger cuts off a shank of meat that he
had over the fire, and sets it down in front of the
panther, who takes his time sniffing it before eat-
ing the offering, purring loudly as he does. They
sit together by the fire for a few hours until the
sun begins to crest the tree line in the morning.
Enzo gets up to cover the fire with sand and
gather his belongings to set out. Looking over his
shoulder he asks, "Well, come on Shadow--are
you coming?" The panther leaped to his feet in
response and rubbed his body against Enzo's
legs, nearly knocking him down as his new friend
chuckled and scratched his head.
"Come on now, you and I have a lot to get
done...." The two of them enter the forest togeth-
er and vanish after just a few yards.
Enzo's Loves
Enzo catches a glimpse of men gathered outside
and in curiosity, he gets up from his desk to look.
He notices that an elven female has stopped in
the outskirts and is talking with them. He cracks
his half-grin when he realizes it is Ireth. They are
like children trying to show off to their friends in
front of her, and she just smirks at them. Ireth
looks off towards the headquarters and spies
Enzo watching from the window. She gives him a
playful wink and goes back to talking with the
men clustered around her. Watching Ireth, he
thinks idly of the women in his life: of Nawen and
how much he had loved her; of Ly'Sylria, another
elven druid that he had loved, who had also van-
ished; of Brisbane, and how he had nearly lost
her as a friend when they thought they were
becoming more than that. He glances over at this
elf and mumbles to himself, "This one isn't a
druid, you know...." At that, he grins and returns
Ireth's wink before going back to his pile of
papers.
Enzo
37
 Get to Know Phaere
YOU HAVE A FANTASTIC TALENT IN ILLUS-
TRATION. HOW DID YOU GET STARTED AND
WHY?
I've always had a passion for drawing. I have
been painting and drawing since I was a little
kid, and I still love it as much as I did then.
When I was young, I used to draw all sorts of
things, varying from people to scenes and land-
scapes. I would also copy characters from
Donald Duck or Asterix comics. When I was a
teenager, I was crazy about Manga films and
comics and used to draw in that style; I was not
very good at it.
After I received my high school diploma, I decid-
ed I wanted to do more with drawing. However,
I did not feel confident enough for the big
schools. I went to a private art school for two
years where I learned to paint and learned all
types of art and the history of art. After that, I
attended a higher art school (Amsterdam School
Cover Artist and
Illustrator for
Dragon’s Whisper
and other
Layonara Projects
http://phaere-tail.tripod.com/
* I made the face in Facegen
with my own picture.
So it sort of looks like me,
but it also does not. <Smiles>
-Phaere
of the Arts) where I could get a bachelor's
degree in teaching fine arts and design. I was a
little disappointed with what I learned at this
school, and they never allowed me to paint and
draw what I really wanted. During my first year, I
took a Photoshop course. I got to know the pro-
gram and highly appreciated it. In my last year, I
did an extra assignment working with a Wacom
tablet for the first time. I was immediately
intrigued by the idea of painting digitally, and I
knew I had to get a tablet myself.
I got to know the World of Dungeons & Dragons
because of my boyfriend. He and his friends had
played Pen and Paper adventures for several
years and I was invited to join the group. It
inspired me to play games like Baldur's Gate
and Icewind Dale. And when I knew Neverwinter
Nights (NwN) was being released, I just had to
have it--because of the toolkit.
When I graduated from school, I got my own
38
 Phaere - Continued
tablet and in my free time I was trying to learn
how to make my own module in NwN. I was not
good at it---I did not have the patience for it. I
made a few custom portraits in Photoshop, and
after a while all I was doing was making portraits
for modules I was planning to make one day.
Now, three years after graduation at the age 26,
I am still making portraits. I think I have made
over 200 portraits since I first started.
The designing of the costume takes place in that
stage--I invent it as I go along, but sometimes I
change things along the way.
At last, I will paint the background with special
made brushes and textures. When the back-
ground is finished, I will try to merge the charac-
ter and background as best I can. Usually, by
aligning the colors and lighting of the two. That's
it. Then usually it's done.

HOW DO YOU CREATE YOUR ILLUSTRA- NOW THAT YOU'VE ATTENDED "DRAWING
TIONS AND HOW LONG, ON AVERAGE, SCHOOL" AND EARNED YOUR DIPLOMA
DOES IT TAKE FOR YOU TO CREATE ONE FROM AMSTERDAMSE HOGESCHOOL
OF YOUR ILLUSTRATIONS? VOOR DE KUNSTEN, WHAT DO YOU HAVE
PLANNED NEXT?
Usually when I start work on a character, either
from a description or from my own imagination, I Well, I have had my diploma for over three
picture the character in my head. At that point, I years now. Right now, I know I want to improve
already have an idea of how I want the portrait my digital creations and get further with that. As
to be. When I start work, when all goes well, I for teaching, not right now. Maybe in the future,
usually take a day. But if the picture involves who knows? But nothing's planned so far.
complex armor or lots of decorations, which
take more work, it could be up to two days of I work as a telephonist at a customer care serv-
work. ice for a company to earn my money. In my free
time, I work on my digital art.
COULD YOU EXPLAIN THE PROCESS THAT
YOU GO THROUGH IN ORDER TO COM- HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN INVOLVED
PLETE A HIGH-QUALITY PORTRAIT? IN THE NWN COMMUNITY AND WHY DID
YOU GET
My technique has changed a lot since I first INVOLVED?
started. I will describe the way I work right now. I
usually start with either the head or the body. I got interesting
With the head, I will start with a 3-D face from in NwN after
the program FaceGen. I make the face as I want playing the first
it, and adjust lighting and save it as a jpg. As Bioware games
base for the body, I use the program Poser. I like Baldur's
pose the body the way I want the character to Gate. What inter-
be, adjust lighting to match the face, and render ested me most
it. was the option to
make your own
Then the most work begins. In Photoshop, I will games because
put the head on the body and then I have my they provided
base on top of which I can start painting. the game engine
Usually, I start by painting the hair, or I start with the game.
repainting and editing the face. I rework the skin Phaere illustration at
and add new lighting and colors. After all that, I I bought NwN http://phaere-tail.tri-
will paint in basic colors for the costume/armor. sometime in pod.com/id2.html.

39
 Phaere - Continued
2003. I soon got to know nwvault.ign.com as a word is always: practice.
great community where people worked hard to
give the game a little extra. When I saw people With every portrait, I feel I have learned some-
were also making their own custom portraits, I thing new.
was immediately interested to get involved. I
decided it would be fun to make my own por-
traits and add them to the vault. Though honest-
ly, these first portraits were really bad. I mean,
really bad, but it was a start. I cannot say I am
perfectly happy right now, but I like where I'm
headed. NOTE: To see some of Phaere's work,
visit:
http://nwvault.ign.com/fms/Image.php?id=26135.

WHEN ASKED TO PROVIDE ILLUSTRATIONS

FOR LAYONARA, WHAT PROMPTED YOU TO
DO SO?

When I looked
around on the
website and
saw the
Layonara
Handbook I
knew this was
a great world to Look for more of
work with--
beautifully
designed. It's
Phaere’s work in
also a great
challenge to
our next issue.
provide images
for an entire
legion of gods. I
was immediate-
ly inspired when
I read their
descriptions.

DO YOU HAVE ANY LAST WORDS TO

SHARE WITH THE READERS?

I started making portraits for the fun of it, but I

found over these last years it is so rewarding
when you are improving and people appreciate
your work. I have had so many emails from peo-
ple, sometimes just to let me know they like my
work. I still feel I need to improve but the key-

40
 Review: The Serenity Role-Playing Game
From the Dark Ages to the Outer Reaches of the Universe
by Charles Tallman (CHAzz)
For fans of the show, or Browncoats as they are culture, so everything
commonly known, I'm not going to need to do is a mixture of
much in the way of background. But for those of American and
you who haven't been exposed to Firefly, don't Chinese.
worry, I've got you covered. Keep in mind, how-
ever, that this is a review of the RPG, and not the The setting is techni-
television show, or its silver screen companion. cally space-opera
As such, I will endeavor to keep the spoilers to a style science fiction,
minimum, and only touch on things that become with a heavy dose of
apparent after perhaps the first third of the pilot western flavor. You
episode. I'm also not going to be discussing my get plenty of laser
opinions of, or making comparisons between, the guns, spaceships,
film and series. I'll save that for a future article. futuristic medical
equipment, an over-
Serenity the RPG is based on the film of the bearing interplanetary
same name, which is further based on the wildly government, and also
popular yet short lived Sci-Fi/Western television a heavy dose of
series by Joss Whedon. Published by Margaret horses, cattle rustling,
Weis Productions, Ltd., and written by Jamie six-shooters, and bar
Chambers, it includes short fiction pieces by brawls. For the twist,
Margaret Weis. there's a space-age
quasi Geisha charac-
ter class, instead of
“Serenity the RPG is based on the film whisky people drink
of the same name, which is further sake, and everybody
based on the wildly popular yet short speaks both English
lived Sci-Fi/Western television series and Mandarin
by Joss Whedon.” (although the latter
tends to be heavily
accented with cowboy
drawl.)
The premise is that humanity has left its galactic
cradle after "Earth got used up.” Having migrat- The basic game
ed in huge generational starships to a new solar mechanic used is a
system in which we terraform everything we can. simple attribute die
At some point in developing our new multi-planet plus skill die roll, ver-
civilization, war breaks out between those who sus a difficulty set by
want a centralized government and those who the GM. Dice used
want independent planet-states. The game is set are d2, d4, d6, d8, Image from http://www.
after this conflict, in which the faction for inde- d10, and d12. serenityrpg.com/
pendence, known as Browncoats, have lost. Conspicuously miss-
Another point of interest, is the emphasis of the ing is the d20, probably to separate this game
two surviving super-powers from "Earth-that-was" further from the current d20 trend. Attributes
have had the most influence on the developing and skills are assigned die codes, increasing up

41
 Serenity - Continued
to d12 and then adding a second die, starting
from d2 and moving up the list again.
Character creation is a fairly straightforward
point-buy system; the GM sets a "heroic level,"
which determines how many points you get to
spend on attributes, you get further points for
skills. Finally, there is an asset/complication sys-
tem similar to that used in White Wolf's World of
Darkness system.
The writing style is very informal with lots of "wild
west" slangy type stuff thrown in to spice it up; as
if you were having a conversation with an old
spacer in a bar somewhere. The story bits at the
beginning of each chapter are interesting and
certainly help convey a feel for the setting. The
book has plenty of stock NPC’s as well as sever-
al specific NPC’s from the film. There are also
stats and brief write-ups for the crew of Serenity
as well as the boat herself. As I already men-
tioned, character building is a snap, and the book
also has a section on ship and vehicle building.
There is a generous history and background sec-
tion and write-ups on the planets. Also included
is a slang and Chinese dictionary.
Seeing as the book was timed to release along-
side the film, it contains plenty of references and
NPC’s from Serenity. What it lacks, however, is
more than only passing references to the televi-
sion show, most in the form of flavor text. I really
wanted a few NPC’s, say Badger at the very
least. I also got the impression from the series
that the 'Verse as its called, was larger than what
Dragons from
Player Albums
is portrayed in the book, but that certainly is easy
to fix in-game. The asset/complication system,
while interesting and certainly helpful to fleshing
out characters, can unbalance things. I also got
the impression that quite a bit was being left to
the discretion of the GM. Certainly any game
should give the GM leeway to maneuver within
its ruleset; though, I prefer a little bit more codifi-
cation, just to help give direction with things. The
book runs to just over 220 pages, and while
average in length for a hardcover nowadays, the
$40 price tag seems a bit steep to me, no matter
how many books Wizards cranks out at that
same price and page count. And as a final note,
the aforementioned dictionary does contain some
language not entirely suitable for tender ears and
mouths, so a word of caution to parents and
those with younguns in their group, as with any
product check it out before buying it to make
sure you approve of and are comfortable with the
content.
“...character building is a snap, and the
book also has a section on ship and
vehicle building. There is a generous
history and background section and
write-ups on the planets.”
Overall, I was pleased with the book; any flaws
were overshadowed with the ease of playability,
and as a fan of both Firefly and Serenity, I cer-
tainly think Mr. Chambers did a fine job translat-
ing the 'Verse into RPG form.
42
 Deity of Layonara
Each month, we would like to spotlight one of the Deities, be they Diabolical or
Divine, from the pantheon of the Layonara mythos. If this whets your appetite
as we hope it will, be on the lookout for the Layonara Handbook, soon to be
released, that will have the information on ALL of the deities that will be dis-
cussed here, as well as any and all the information you are clamoring for about
the ins, outs, how-tos and why-fors of the world! Each Deity may also be
found in the Layonara Campaign Handbook that is being constantly
updated by Edwin van de Ketterij (EdTheKet) and the Project Team.

Pyrtechon
by Jill Price (Honora) & Anthony Beaulieu

Aliases: The Destroyer, The Raging One flames. Glory in destruction. Do not cease until
Race: Dragon all life is extinguished.
Alignment: CE
Worshippers: Clergy Attire
Worshippers of Clerics of Pyrtechon
Pyrtechon are primarily show no particular favor
human with a few elves toward one weapon
or dwarves. Pyrtechon type, seeing all as tools
also has a significant fol- to achieve the ends of
lowing among the mon- their dark god. Weapons
strous races. are made to kill and are
Cleric Alignments: CE, all considered to be wor-
CN, NE thy of use. Indeed, many
Domains: Fire, Clerics of Pyrtechon are
Strength, War, skilled in the use of a
Destruction, Evil range of weapons, far
Governs: Destruction, beyond the followers of
Chaos other deities.
Weapons are often
Dogma enchanted with fire to
Consign Layonara and emulate Pyrtechon's
all of its attendant races breath.
to oblivion. Do not pre-
serve; preservation is Clerics are normally
not the way of heavily armored for bet-
Pyrtechon. ter protection in combat,
which they often see.
Only in the purity of Flame-red plate mail and
absolute destruction can splint mail are highly
the world be cleansed. Image of Pyrtechon created by Phaere. favored as both are con-
sidered representative of
The fires of The Destroyer will purge this place. the scaled hide of Pyrtechon.
Life plays no part beyond its brief dance in the

43
 Deity: Pyrtechon - Continued
Clerics often wear a necklace of basalt (always
chipped from the statue of Pyrtechon held in the
central worship hall) carved into the representa-
tion of a talon wreathed in flames of gem dust.
The more powerful the cleric, the more valuable
the gem dust of the wreath; with ruby considered
to be at the pinnacle. Beyond ornamental pur-
poses, these charms are used by Pyrtechonites
to evaluate each other's abilities; with challenges
not uncommon for those considered to be exag-
gerating their powers.
Hierarchy
In a long, narrow room, a wall of arched windows
let in a flood of late afternoon sunlight. Sixteen
bright-eyed, young men and women wearing tal-
berds depicting a compass sit at wooden desks,
chatting softly and passing notes. An elderly
man, wrinkled and thin but not the least bit
stooped, walks in and sits in the simple stone
chair facing the desks. He clears his throat sev-
eral times with effort: the result of a lifetime of
pipe smoking. His gnarled, spotted hands caress
a bound leather book that appears to be newly
made; the brown stained leather is barely
scratched and there is only a token crease in the
binding. The youths grow quiet, and he speaks.
If you were to see this dragon deity
in his chosen form, it is written...
“Pyrtechon would appear a monstrous
crimson dragon with tremendous wings
and great black horns.”
"Eons ago...dragons walked, fought, and wor-
shipped on our World of Layonara. They followed
gods as the races they created someday would;
paying tribute and creating temples to venerate
them. This magnificent race of creatures was old
before they sailed wing and claw into our
air...and so too were their gods. Some today still
worship the mighty dragon god Rofirein (he
pauses here to smile at them) and some…some,
follow the other dragon god to stay and watch
our sphere in the stars. (He pauses here, right
forefinger absently tapping the book. Some of the
adolescents shift uneasily.) He is called
Pyrtechon, and he is death. If you were to see
this dragon deity in his chosen form, it is written
(he opens the book to a page marked with a
cloth strip) Pyrtechon would appear a monstrous
crimson dragon with tremendous wings and great
black horns. You might also see him as a huge
half-dragon, half-human, with a cloak of flames,
but this is supposition based on a madman's tes-
timony. (He closes the book.) He, more than any
other, is our enemy. Can anyone tell me why
Pyrtechon did not leave when most of the drag-
ons fled Layonara and their gods with them?” A
brown-haired girl raises her hand shyly, eyes
fixed on her teacher. “Yes, Milanda?”
She speaks hesitantly but clearly. "Because…
because he didn't want good to win and he knew
the Lord Protector was staying to watch our
world."
The man gives her a closed-mouth smile but his
eyes are warm. “True. In every record, true. But.
But…there is another theory, and this is what you
will learn today. (The youths lean forward as his
voice lowers to just above a whisper.) It has been
proposed…that The Destroyer, The Raging One,
stayed to watch Bloodstone Sinthair destroy the
world. That he, the dragon of death and terror
and hatred, was the driving force behind
Bloodstone's change…that he was the whisper in
Bloodstone's ear that drove a general of great
ability into a maniac bent on destroying what he
could not control. (He pauses again, and some of
the listeners sit back, hands to chin or brows fur-
rowed as they digest his words. He speaks now
in normal tones.) True or not? We don't know
for sure. But if it is true…then he could do it
again and again. Gods do not know time and
have patience and memories we mortals lack;
these are dark times for our world; fertile ground
for desperation and evil to grow. Even now there
could be another Bloodstone, somewhere, fight-
ing for a cause that is being twisted and turned to
evil in their minds. Now. Questions?” A sea of
arms shoot into the air, hands extended heaven-
ward....
44
 Deity: Pyrtechon - Continued
There is no structured "Church" of Pyrtechon;
The Raging One's desires and designs are far
too chaotic for that kind of organization.
However, small cells of followers, usually lead by
a charismatic and powerful individual, work fairly
well...until they don't. Given the extreme nature
of followers of Pyrtechon, power is seized, not
worked toward, and held until it cannot be held
anymore. This leads to a very short and very
skinny clergy tree. On top is the Blood Lord, the
High Priest of the Crimson Cathedral; he or she
who has the power to command the entirety of
what exists of Church structure. Beyond that,
are the leaders of the strongest groups that exist
in Pyrtechon's name, and populating the bottom
are the small but steady trickle that willingly fol-
low them.
Clerics of Pyrtechon are a motivated lot that cling
to their numbers to aid in their goal. The clergy's
desire for the destruction of all life unifies them
with a common purpose; however, though most
of the faithful look upon their brethren with a kin-
dred mindset, each still maintains that in the end
even allies must die. Followers of Pyrtechon tend
to be solitary individuals in the public world and
they make great efforts to hide their faith from
the rest of the community.
Elections and Organizations
The Blood Lord; High Priest of the Crimson
Cathedral
The strongest. The meanest. The most powerful.
And that's it. There is no additional qualifier other
than approval from Pyrtechon himself.
Whomever can hold the power of the Church
may do so only as long as they can fight off their
competitors. A Blood Lord takes power and
changes Church structure to suit themselves; all
the while keeping a watch for intrigue and back-
stabbing until finally their vigilance fails for even
a second and a new Blood Lord climbs to the top
of the heap over their bleeding corpse. The
longest a Blood Lord reigned was twelve years in
the case of Omuh Kensentay some three hun-
dred years ago; this was also a low point in
Pyrtechon membership. The Day of Lords in
1317 set a record for shortest time in power with
six Blood Lords in a row between sunrise and
sunset. It is not uncommon for a new Blood Lord
to be replaced within a week.
The Blood Lord is also Pyrtechon's most power-
ful cleric. All things related to the Cathedral are
their responsibility. Making notes on every indi-
vidual to take a piece of the statue, making sure
that damage to the Cathedral is repaired and the
proper ritual suicide/sacrifice done afterwards,
and overseeing the rites--all fall under their
domain. The current Blood Lord, Savilk
Flamehand, has held onto power for three years
thus far.
Savilk Flamehand is a human cleric. He is mid-
dle-aged and seems mild-mannered and almost
meek when met outside the Crimson Cathedral.
Inside, he's a focus of calm and quiet evil in a
shrieking charnel house of blood and pain. It is
his measured ways combined with his clever use
of his trustworthy, quiet appearance that has kept
him in power for so long as Blood Lords go since
he is easy to underestimate by the ambitious and
has not yet shown the true extent of his power.
He does only as much as is needed to remove a
problem--keeping his cards tight to his chest.
According to Rofirein records, Savilk is known to
have been born in Krandor. His parents died
presumably natural deaths some years ago, and
he was an only child. He spent eight years as a
clerk in Spellguard then disappeared from the
public eye. He resurfaced a decade and a half
later as a clerk to the previous Blood Lord Barna
Gravehand and
seized power the
year after that. He
has put his soft,
brown eyes; gentle,
tenor voice; and ton-
sured head to good
use in bringing
young, tender sacri-
fices to The
Destroyer's alter.
45
 Deity: Pyrtechon - Continued
Sects
As noted, most sects devoted to Pyrtechon exist
as small cells, doing what damage they can and
retreating, or as individuals worshipping secretly.
A few groups make a bolder mark however.
The Daughters of Rage
The Daughters of Rage are a hushed secret
around Roldem and the coast of Alindor. Striking
at remote villages, they focus on destruction
rather than death; the exception being men.
While their activities would seem to be destined
to attract law enforcement, the truth is much less
black and white. Most of the members are
woman--almost all of whom have suffered humili-
ation or emotional and physical abuse at the
hands of family and society. The Daughters have
slowly built under the leadership of Betsy
Inglewood, and while there are a few men in the
group, the predominant gender makeup coupled
with a strong feeling of guilt in the communities
seems to be preventing a full-scale extermination
of this Pyrtechon sect, at least for now. Their
numbers are unknown but estimated at about 50.
Betsy Inglewood is a spinster in her 40's.
Rejected most of her life, her rage built slowly as
she was passed over by prettier sisters, cousins,
friends, and classmates for just about everything.
After 31 years of rejection, she was approached
by a follower of Pyrtechon and, for the first time,
saw a place for her anger. In true Church form,
she slew the one who introduced her and took
over his secreted temple space. Since then, she
has slowly built a following of mainly spurned,
angry, or insane women. A great deal of these
women have no idea what they are really signing
up for; so, she enjoys occasionally letting a
"weak" one get caught to absorb the blame for
the Daughters' massacres. She is squat and
plump with a flat face and a square jaw, bristly
hair, and bulging eyes that gleam with hatred.
The Reapers
This fanatical group is led by a crazed priest of
Pyrtechon named Ramas Mourgrym. The
Reapers seek to please The Raging One by
leaving nothing but smoking ruins behind them.
They are selectively active on Dregar destroying
everything in their path. Led by the force of
Ramas' zealotry, his followers will stop at nothing
until all life is ended. Ramas himself has stated
that he wishes to be the last thing on Layonara
that Pyrtechon feeds upon before the end of the
world. The Reapers share a confidence that is
fed by their belief that Ramas has the power to
challenge the Blood Lord.
Reapers are expected to destroy everything that
is not essential to their immediate needs. Living
conditions are expectedly primitive as a result;
the bulk of the estimated 30 or so followers are
considered to have mental problems based on
this and other requirements of the sect. It is
known that Ramas castrated himself with his
scythe to ensure that if he did any raping before
the pillaging and burning, and by some miracle
the girl or woman survived, no life would ensue.
He also requires all members of the Reapers to
do the same. Anyone that gets as far as induc-
tion and then refuses to complete the ritual with
castration is immediately turned into a sacrifice to
Pyrtechon. There are no women in the Reapers.
Ramas claims to have dealings with the red
dragon, Fisterion, and maintains that the great
wyrm would aid The Reapers were it ever neces-
sary. But whether this is a fact or deranged rav-
ings has yet to be seen.
Ramas Mourgrym is a very tall human, always
clad in red scale mail layered with black robes.
His outfit sports a deep hood that completely
hides his face. His actual face has not been seen
by anyone outside the sect as yet. His mental
state is speculated to be twelve bricks short of a
wall--even among his flock he's considered crazy.
However, he took the path of a weapons master
in the scythe before pledging his soul to
Pyrtechon and has since gained great clerical
powers. It's rumored that he will eventually make
a play to become the next Blood Lord and put a
scorched-earth policy into effect for the continent.
Ramas is also known for the vicious scythe that
he bears. The weapon is the preferred weapon
46
 Deity: Pyrtechon - Continued
and a symbol of death among the Reapers, and
Ramas' scythe has achieved near artifact status
with his followers. Aside from the details above,
nothing else is known about Ramas or his past.
Sunset's Dawn
Across Belinara, small, violent clans and individu-
als have been contacted by a half-giant named
Mag'ruk. Charismatic for giant kin, Mag'ruk has
built a rag-tag smattering of angry giants into a
clan of respectable size, calling them Sunset's
Dawn in anticipation of Pyrtechon's plans for
Layonara. The clan follows Mag'ruk fanatically
as he has dangled in front of them visions of the
world empty of other races except for giants,
cleansed of the taint of elves and humans and
dwarves and the like. The clan has few rules:
might is right, take what you will, and leave noth-
ing behind that can be used to rebuild or re-grow.
This includes bodies. Sunset's Dawn are canni-
bals.
What the clan does not know is that Mag'ruk
takes his orders from another. On Mag'ruk's per-
son at all times, is a flat, black stone roughly ten
inches in diameter that allows him to communi-
cate, whenever needed, with Son of Earth Ignist
Caveborn of Rikart. Ignist is financing and lead-
ing the clan secretly from his position as Son of
Earth in the Kerekk of Grannoch.
The clan has been spotted in and near the
Forest of Fog on Dregar. For what purpose, is
not known.
Mag'ruk is a half-giant of unknown origin. He
was first spotted as a young adult, scavenging to
survive. Rejected by human society for his horri-
ble smell and frightening appearance. He turned
to brute force against homesteads and small
clans of any race around Belinara to get what he
needed to survive. He became adept at
unarmed fighting, using his unusual agility and
speed to tip a fight in his favor. After a very long
winter of near starvation, he found a clan of
giants dead from a battle with a rival clan, and
tried cannibalism to fill his screamingly empty
stomach. He liked the taste and is said to prefer
young giant now to any other meat. How he
came under Ignist's sway is again unknown; but
with Ignist's council, Mag'ruk leads Sunset's
Dawn at this time.
He is tall for a half-giant, over ten feet, but leanly
built. He has a particular odor that has only got-
ten worse as he shifted his diet more and more
to his own kind. He seems very intelligent for a
half-giant and commands respect from his clan
with his mastery of unarmed fighting and light-
ning-fast movements.
Ignist Caveborn of Rikart presents himself as a
warm and friendly follower of Grannoch. He
tends to the sick and speaks endlessly of
"Grannoch's" plans for her people. What is not
known, except to a select few, is that Ignist actu-
ally worships Pyrtechon. He sends his orders
through Mag'ruk and has been using Sunset's
Dawn to aid other governments in exchange for
large sums of gold and other payment.
“...a new threat has appeared; a solitary
threat, siding into vulnerable villages
and small towns....”
Miakosha Takashi
Recently around Mistone and coastal areas on
Alindor, a new threat has appeared; a solitary
threat, sidling into vulnerable villages and small
towns and sneaking out again leaving only bloat-
ed, grey-green bodies behind. She seems to
have rogue training or powerful illusionist training
as she has been undetected and only recognized
by one individual. Her agenda is yet unknown,
but a good deal is known of this woman's past,
and certainly of why she is capable of the acts
she commits.
Miakosha Takashi is from a peasant family on
Corsain. Information gathered by the Church of
Rofirein has this to say about her. Her father had
tiefling blood but was a hard-working and basi-
cally decent man. Her mother was, by all
47
 Deity: Pyrtechon - Continued
accounts, a kind and loving woman. Miakosha
had a younger sister as well. But her close fami-
ly and tight-knit community in Taim could not
overcome what Miakosha is. As a baby, she bit
her mother's nipple until it bled then laughed as
she suckled it. As a toddler, she deliberately
broke every rule without concern. She tortured
animals as a girl; and by the time she was an
adolescent, her parent's marriage had broken
apart from the strain of caring for her and her sis-
ter running away. When three small children
went missing in the village and she was the last
person seen with them, she was driven from the
island. The years she spent away are unac-
countable; but when she surfaced again, she
was leaving a very visible trail of corpses and
magic-burned land in her wake. She has consid-
erable power as a spellcaster; where or from
whom she learned spellcasting is not known.
Miakosha has a reputation as being without even
a hint of a soul. It is said that she sacrificed both
her children to Pyrtechon directly from her womb
to increase her spellcasting power and enjoys
bathing in the blood of lovers when she is done
with them. She is petite, barely five feet tall, and
slender. Her tiefling blood manifests in her ruddy
red skin and two small, black horns in her fore-
head. Her natural appearance is said to be
greatly pleasing to The Raging One but she
masks it with strong illusion magic when she
could be seen by others.
“...the pinpoint of Pyrtechon worship is
in the great structure in Firesteep
Volcano known as the Crimson
Cathedral.
Temples to Pyrtechon
Given the dogma of the Church, creation of
standing edifices in veneration goes against the
grain. However, it was acknowledged four cen-
turies ago that some focal point of devotion
needed to exist. As a result, the pinpoint of
Pyrtechon worship is in the great structure in
Firesteep Volcano known as the Crimson
Cathedral.
Being the only official structure dedicated to The
Raging One, the first impression one gets is that
it's not as large as expected; but this only lasts
until one gets inside--for the true size of the
building is hidden in the basalt. Building the orig-
inal (since modified and expanded) Cathedral
took seven years and 1,612 workers. A good
portion of those workers expired from being
worked to death. Those that did not die while
building the Cathedral were sacrificed in the
Sanctuary; and that has since become custom
for Pyrtechonites. If anything lasting must be
created, following the construction, the creator
must sacrifice either the craftspersons responsi-
ble, or, if the item in question is not for his use,
commit ritual suicide in atonement.
From Rofirein notes on Pyrtechon, one eyewit-
ness account does exist of the Sanctuary, taken
from a halfling who by some miracle survived his
trip there. Found in a pile of bodies left near
Silgar, Peldon Wheathresher was part of a group
of farmers abducted for sacrifice from Easthome
while on a trading trip.
His account is classified due to the extreme
nature of his ordeal; but from what is known, the
inside of the Sanctuary is a dullish red-brown
from the blood of previous sacrifices never
cleaned and shards of bone puncture bare feet.
The heat and smell of death are nearly unbear-
able; open flames are everywhere. A single stone
block is the only alter and is surrounded by a
moat of fire. The witness noted roughly half a
dozen bodies, some charred, which were his
travel mates. Further information regarding his
description is restricted to Church officials.
His survival was apparently due to a medical
condition he has where his heart beats very
slowly when stressed, and he must have been
assumed dead at some point during his torture.
Mr. Wheathresher was healed at a local temple
and returned home after his discovery and inter-
view; but, later, tragically committed suicide.
48
 Deity: Pyrtechon - Continued
Prayers
Prayers vary widely by race of worshipper. But in
the Crimson Cathedral, there is only one prayer
entitled "Existence's End."
"Pyrtechon, I walk in your wake. And as
my heart yearns to please you, I seek to
quench your thirst. Let all life die. Let
the world end. Send them to oblivion on
the edge of my weapon and bask in the
revelry of death that I bring you. Drink
the blood I let, feast on the flesh I cleave.
And when I have ended the world,
choked the breath from the last being;
then drink and feast on me."
Holy Days
30 Junar, 30 Jular, and 30 Augra are considered
holy days for Pyrtechon. These represent the
beginning, middle, and end of summer--both the
hottest times of the year and the longest days in
which to commit acts of wanton destruction.
These are not adhered to strictly, but merely a
guideline for when tribute is expected and sacri-
fices should be made.
There are no holy days in winter, as most folks
are bundled up inside and therefore harder to
kidnap. Plus, the rain and snow makes sustained
combustion of buildings difficult.
Constellation
Pyrtechon's constellation, The Eternal Flame,
consists of nine stars making up the rough shape
of a small flame. All the stars of this constellation
carry a light red hue and glow brightest at dusk
when most clerics of Pyrtechon prefer to pray.
Many of the prayers directed towards this con-
stellation come in the form of a cleric of high rank
tracing the outline of the constellation in the dirt
with a sword of flame. However, being as secre-
tive as many of the followers of Pyrtechon are,
little is known about just why they do that.
Reliquary of Pyrtechon
The view of destruction that the faithful of
Pyrtechon have, makes keeping artifacts and
holy books difficult since they would seek to
destroy them. However, there are two relics that
Pyrtechonites holds sway to. First, the massive
basalt stature of Pyrtechon located in the
Crimson Cathedral is seen as holy, regardless of
how many amulets the faithful chisel from it--it
still appears undamaged. This, combined with
the unearthly, life-like quality to the ruby eyes,
makes some believe that Pyrtechon himself is
linked to the sculpture.
Also, within the fiery miasma of the Crimson
Cathedral, at the very end of the Halls of Chaos,
rests a burning brazier within which the Living
Flame crackles and spits. It is to this Flame, said
to be linked directly to the burning lair of
Pyrtechon, that sacrifices are often made in the
name of chaos and 'He who would destroy all.'
None may approach the Living Flame except the
Blood Lord and even then, should they do so
without proper tribute, the Flame will lash out and
consume them.
At certain times, the Blood Lord is able to draw a
‘liquid fire’ from the Living Flame. This liquid fire
is used to bind people to the order. The person
who drinks the liquid is subject to a powerful
geas as commanded by the High Priest. Should
they fail to accomplish their mission, the liquid
fire they have consumed rises up slowly, burning
the victim from within until the fire erupts from
every pore of their body and consumes them.
Relationships with Other Races and
Churches
While allied to three other gods of chaos and
death, it is only with Corath that the Church will
have extended dealings as it suits them. Verified
from a now-deceased Corathite, is the knowl-
edge of an alliance--a small piece of burning
flame was delivered to a Corathite temple on
Mistone to reflect it.
It is said that should either side break the
alliance then the flame will instantly die within the
Corathite temple and the High Priest in the
Pyrtechonite temple will also be aware that the
alliance has been broken.
49
 Deity: Pyrtechon - Continued
Pyrtechon and Fisterion
It is widely believed that Pyrtechon is somehow
linked to the red dragon, Fisterion. This ancient
red dragon makes its home in Firesteep, the isle
where Pyrtechon centers his faith. Also, the
sheer power of Fisterion leads to the conclusion
that he is not an ordinary dragon.
Some believe that Fisterion is in fact Pytechon's
son or his very first spawn. Others believe that
Fisterion is Pyrtechon bound in a mortal body or
that Fisterion is merely Pyrtechon's earthly
avatar. Regardless of the rumors, the reality is
that if a connection between the two does exist,
they create a fearsome duo that threatens all.
Allies and Enemies
Allied: Corath, Baraeon Ca'Duz , Grand
Friendly: Shadon, Branderback, Mist,
Vierdri'ira
Neutral: Aragen
Unfriendly: Ilsare, Goran, Shindaleria, Sulterio
Enemy: Rofirein, Vorax, Dorand, Aeridin,
Deliar, Toran, Lucinda, Katia, Az'atta,
Kithairien, Beryl, Xeen, Folian S'pae, Prunilla,
Grannoch
50
 Notes of a Bard: Ozymandias
by Jason Williams (Ozymandias)

Across the lands of Layonara is one name that one can be assured of hearing often.
Ozymandias is often sought for his aid, his wisdom, and his sense of humor.

He has taken upon himself the daunting task of chronicling the events that shape the
world, watching and listening, taking a hand when he feels that balance is usurped.

What follows are his words. An account of one such world-changing event--one that will
forever affect the lives of all the denizens of the World of Layonara.

Rain spattered upon the cobbles of Arabel as a
small group of cowled individuals gathered near
the docks. There they beheld a sight that was
strange even by Arabel's standards; a dwarven
ship bearing the flag of the Ulgrids approached
the docks. Once it had landed, they gathered
near shielding themselves as best they could
from the oppressive downpour. The dwarves set
forth from their ship carrying precious heavy
cargo: a great dragon skull with glowing emer-
alds and rubies pressed within the sockets of
eyes and nostrils.
There the group was informed that through great
expense and effort, Lord Rainstorff had fash-
ioned the one thing capable of destroying the
Bloodwell, Bloodstone's greatest and most
wicked of artifacts. From it poured six demons
every minute, which then began their fateful
march upon both Pranzis and the Great Oak.
The duty of the group was simple, yet suicidal--
to attack and capture the Bloodwell, then hold it
while half of the party attacked Blood. Led by
Kobal Bluntaxe, the Steward of the Crescent
Moon, the group set forth.
They found that Bloodstone had set forth guards
to impede their travel--making their progress
slow and bloody. However, they persevered until
they came unto the Demon Tower. Long had it
stood as the gateway into the impassable
realms of Blood, and now it functioned as his
greatest of weapons. For atop the glowing spire,
lights of red, orange, and yellow flickered with
the unrivaled power of the Bloodwell. The party
entered, aware and ready for the start of their
true adventure.
Bitter was the dawn that rose as the party first
entered the tower where Demons and the last
vanguard of Devils stood before them to enter
the fray. Each room was filled with opposition;
traps of spikes and fire were scattered through-
out the halls. Each time the group took a
moment to rest, it seemed as though Blood's
mocking laughter filled their heads; nightmares
foreboding his ultimate victory. Yet they did not
turn back and flee, instead they pressed forward
to do battle against those guarding the path to
the well. At last they reached the highest point of
the tower to see the glow of the Bloodwell itself,
cruelly guarded by Fiends of Shadow and
Flame.
As they entered the top floor, the glare from the
Bloodwell was blazing brightly, nearly blinding
them. With their senses feeling the magic heavy
in the air, they proceeded. The battle for the
Well was short and chaotic as from all sides the
fiends came to attack unprotected flanks and
frail casters. They found the protector of the
Well, born of Shadow and Flame, to be an army
unto himself. Every strike against him seemed to
be healed instantly as he unleashed fell magic
of rejuvenation. Once he had fallen, however,
the party realized that their journey had only just
begun. For through the Well, they saw the
never-ending horrors of the Abyss and an army,
millions strong, marching to enter the gate of the
Well.
Two groups were formed from that of one: the
first to hold the Well and prevent the infernal
beasts from recapturing it, and the second
tasked with the singular suicidal assignment of

51
 Ozymandias - Continued
slaying Sinthar Bloodstone himself in his throne
at the Masterpool. For indeed, as long as Blood
lived and his pool remained, the Bloodwell
would remain invincible, feeding off the power of
the remaining pools to protect itself from any
disaster.
When the group sent to slay Blood departed
from the Tower of Demons, they wished well
their comrades fighting the tide. As they came
before the fortress of Blood, they found a ghast-
ly sight awaiting them, striking fear into their
very bones.
From the sky, a cascade fell onto parched soil--
not of any natural rain, but one of blood. The
Fortress of Blood was aptly named, it seemed,
with a moat of burning fire and a host of fiends
standing ready for a last desperate attack.
Though every step of the path was slick with
blood, the party pressed onward shadowed by
the looming tower and the screams within. As
the great gates opened and a wailing choir of
pleas for mercy met their ears, they each took a
deep breath to prepare themselves before
pressing upwards. Flight upon flight of stairs
they climbed upwards, the power of the
Masterpool felt with each passing step. Those
demons that had first sworn fealty to Bloodstone
in ages past, guarded his dark tower and were
determined to not let a single person pass.
As they ascended into the Throne of Blood, a
dark wind swept around them with the force and
fury of the hells. Accompanying the dread wind,
were screams of suffering that were amplified
ever further as they battled on--growing deaf to
all but the sounds of the infernal tower. But as
they pressed upwards, they came to a place
where there was no sound at all; where silence
itself seemed a cacophony. To scream was to be
a whisper there. A sickly, green light lit each step
taken. The bones of the dead stood to enter the
battle as protectors of the Pools they had drawn
near.
Yet the trials continued further as they pro-
gressed. After passing the place of silence, they
came to the next floor, just below the top level of
Blood's twisted fortress. His gaze looked upon
them as they stood before two great statues:
appearing of dragons gold and silver. To their
horror, they realized that these dragons had
once been alive, perhaps ones that had once
opposed him and instead were now frozen:
petrified there for Blood's amusement. They
passed the statues uneasily and progressed
ever further before coming to a passageway
whose end glowered in red and yellows.
“From all sides, the heroes of Layonara
swarmed Bloodstone; blade, magic,
bow and hammer alike seeking to keep
his attention from one in the shadows.”
As they entered the chamber of the Masterpool,
Blood's words met their ears. Dark and menac-
ingly calm they echoed throughout the tower:
"Now you all die." Undeterred by his cold
threats, they met Bloodstone's personal guard.
Fiends of ancient times wearing armor etched in
fire raged in battle atop the tower. As the last
fiend fell, darkness gathered, pouring from each
stone and lit as though alive by the infernal radi-
ance of the Masterpool. There, before the pool,
stood Bloodstone, garbed in robes and holding
a scythe. He looked to the group surrounding
him and sneered, lifting his hands to scatter the
party with four great blasts of fire as he pre-
pared to do battle with his most hated of nui-
sances.
From all sides, the heroes of Layonara swarmed
Bloodstone; blade, magic, bow and hammer
alike seeking to keep his attention from one in
the shadows. The group pressed upon Blood,
waiting for the one weapon able to maim him to
have a chance to strike: The Blade of Shadows,
forged by Dorand's chosen and granted power
through an ancient soul and the silver vein. A
halfling unassuming to any eye darted forward,
known best as The Sneak. Her blade struck
52
 Bard Ozymandias - Continued
true, burying itself into the backbone of Blood,
and almost melted; it twisted and crumpled as
all its magic destroyed even its mithril form. Yet
even over the sound of the blade's transmuta-
tion, was a howl of pain that shook the tower, as
Bloodstone first felt his inevitable defeat.
Overwhelmed by spell and sword, Bloodstone
felt his life drifting away into oblivion, the voices
of those he had slain so long ago screaming for
revenge in his ears. He twisted and fell, a great
explosion flying forth as with his last dying
breath he struck out, slaying two of his most
hated tormenters. As the dust settled, the power
of the pool seemed weakened if even slightly.
Realizing that it was then or never, they cast the
vial into the Masterpool. All around, the ground
shook and the walls began to crumble. The
tower itself was sinking into the ground slowly.
Running as swiftly as they could, the walls
shook--crumbling with the death throes of the
Masterpool.
into the sky with dread certainty. A dark cloud
served as Bloodstone's grave, and it circled the
world as they watched. Bloodstone's death
marked the end of the third age of Layonara,
bringing about a Dark Age of starvation and
chaos. The shroud of ash surrounded the globe
and blotted out the sun. Death would visit crops,
people, and animals before the skies would
clear. Many might question if the actions taken
were the right ones, but whether wrong or right,
so ended one chapter of Layonara for another to
begin.
Pictures from
Ozymandias’ Travels

The ground beneath their feet shook, dust rising

from it, and just as the party reached the great
gates of the fortress of Blood, an enormous
explosion engulfed them. The earth, the land,
and the very air were sucked dry as great
cracks appeared on the Demon Tower for but an
instant before it was consumed in the blast. Just
as their last gasping breath came to them, they
felt shadows surround them, pulling them into a
cold void of darkness.

Aid had come from a most unexpected source

holding them in a chilling embrace. The Veil had
called upon the most ancient and hated ene-
mies of Bloodstone: the Lumbral. From the safe-
ty of the shadows the reunited halves of the
party watched in awe and horror as the moun-
tain upon which they had stood moments
before, completely disintegrated in the energy of
the Bloodwell's death. A great black chasm
extended outwards to form a valley where
mountains used to loom. From utter chaos the
chasm grew to four miles in length, nearly two
miles wide and a half-mile in depth.

As the shadows receded, the party looked up

53
 D&D Adventures:
An Interview with Al Sousa
by Dan Scott (Leanthar)
Our Editor in Chief interviewed Al Sousa, creater/owner of the popular role-player’s
website D&D Adventures, and took down some of Al’s wisdom for posterity.
TELL US ABOUT YOURSELF.
I was born in Brazil in 1967. My parents moved
to the USA when I was young, but I am more
gringo than anything else. I started playing D&D
around the age of 15 and loved it. I was fortu-
nate to have three very good DM’s that focused
on originality and content more than anything
else. I work for myself running a game and enter-
tainment website company, which owns 12 web-
sites. Unfortunately, I do not have as much time
as I would like to game anymore with a wife and
a baby on the way. I really enjoy games and the
mental challenge they bring.
WHY DID YOU START D&D ADVENTURES IN
THE FIRST PLACE?
As a test hobby site for when I was learning web-
site design on my own. I figured I would do the
site on something I really loved to motivate me.
I always meant the site to be an adventure
resource for D&D’ers--good adventures are hard
to come by.
HOW LONG HAS THE SITE BEEN UP?
Since July 2001. There were many D&D sites
back then but some of the larger ones died out.
I somehow ended up listed at the top of search
engines and didn't even realize it.
WHAT TYPES OF RESOURCES ARE AVAIL-
ABLE?
My emphasis for the site is on original story and
background not power and amazing character.
What makes a good D&D game is the story that
unfolds within your head in the realms of imagi-
nation. I create everything for the site in this
manner from adventures to spells. Each
resource is designed so that DM’s can expand
the story to fit their campaign. I also accept
material submitted by others and review it for
originality--turning down over 80% of material
submitted. I try to upload only material that is
original, useful, or interesting. Of course, I have
other resources to assist DM’s and players in
making the game easier to manage such as
character sheets, PC utilities, and comprehen-
sive sheets of data. I also place up articles for
DM’s and players alike. The site has over 300
pages of material with thousands of links.
Al Sousa
(Picture from
www.dndad-
venture.com)
IS RUNNING THE SITE DIFFICULT?
Running the site, no; coming up with good con-
tent, yes. I am fortunate that at this point the site
pays for itself through various advertisers. I also
have several administrators that run the site's
forum for me. They are good people, and I really
appreciate the time they devote.
WHY DID YOU CREATE A FORUM?
It was a suggestion of a friend. I never figured it
54
 Al Sousa - Continued
would amount to much but it attracted gamers
who love D&D as much as I do.
HOW MANY FORUM MEMBERS ARE THERE?
Over 3000 registered members; however, every
year I purge ones that are not active over a peri-
od of a year. It is quite active with over 20
games running at once.
ARE YOU SURPRISED AT HOW THE FORUM
HAS DEVELOPED OVER THE YEARS?
Yes, I am. The forum also created the opportunity
to get feedback on material within the site. It is
also a gathering place for questions and discus-
sions on more than D&D. The forum has really
grown the site.
WHAT IS THIS FEMALE GAMER OF THE
MONTH?
Well, this was an idea a friend of mine came up
with. How often do you see a female gamer? So,
I figured I would ask for submissions, and I was
amazed at the response. I think it adds a little
something extra to the site that no one has.
WHY DO YOU SUPPORT LAYONARA WHEN
THERE ARE SO MANY NWN WORLDS OUT
THERE?
Layonara is a well-built world emphasizing on
role playing not the accumulation of power.
There is an original story line that goes with the
game. The quests are unique and always chal-
lenging. The first few levels are challenging to
get through, but beyond that, it becomes much
more difficult, which creates a sense of accom-
plishment. You have to earn those higher levels
and it's not by power gaming. There are a lot of
details that I do not see on other NwN worlds:
the adventures are hard and items difficult to
come by. Adventures take coordination, timing,
tactics, and patience. There is no "lets run
through this real quick for XP" feeling I got from
other online RPG’s. There are also many other
things you can do besides adventure. You can
learn a skill like bow making or gain experience
in potion making or scroll making. There is never
a time I said to myself, "Well, I have nothing else
to do..." like some of the pay-for-online worlds.
Everything in the world is tough, nothing is easy.
That's what I love about it. When you gain a
level, it is a real accomplishment. If you gain a
magic item, it took a major effort to do so. The
players in the world role play their characters
well. You feel like you are in a fantasy realm. The
owners placed a lot of hard work into the game
at just the right level that keeps you coming back
for more. Also, I enjoy the fact they have real
DM’s for players and scheduled events.
Layonara is simply the best NwN world out there
and it's free. How can you beat that?
Visit this great site at:
http://www.dndadventure.com
According to a post Sousa
made September 15, 2006,
at www.enworld.org,
www.dndadventures.com
gets 2000-3000 visits a day.
"It is ranked very well in
Google (1st pages) for
many D&D key phrases."
Sousa has been playing for
over 25 years. One major
project he worked on is
posted at http://www.dndad-
venture.com/dnda_cam-
paigns.html. Check it out.
Here you'll find some cam-
paign ideas, materials to
start a campaign, and a full
campaign ready to go.
55
 False Truth: An Untold Story of Layonara
e by Andrew Thompson (Creighton)
r On
p t e Layonara, a world filled with adventure and intrigue…
a where any day can be one of glorious victory or ignoble death.
Ch
Even within its past, the world holds many legends, many tales,
many grand epics of mighty warriors, horrible evils, and unselfish goodness.

So now, my friends, let me tell you one such tale…

a tale from many hundreds of years ago.

T'was to be a grand day in the
city of Ronwyn.
Already, the trumpeters took
their places on the raised plat-
form next to the city gates, their
last minute tunings sounding like
a cacophony of bits of song; as if
they were fragments of different
melodies stolen from the air and
put back in place there in the
square. The men-at-arms of the
city milled about in their polished
best, standing tall and throwing
back their shoulders with pride in
the occasion. The throngs of
adoring citizenry competed for
their places on the streets, vying
for a close spot by the cobble-
stone to catch a glimpse, or per-
haps even shake the hand, of
their hero. The city's flags hung
furled at their places about the
walls, ready to dance in the
breeze caught in the great corri-
dors formed by the mountains
when the time was right.
The overwhelming feeling in
the air was one of celebration
and, to some extent, awe.
Greyson Havelrox, the grandson
of Lord Havelrox, who was one of
the most celebrated heroes of the
Race Wars, was returning at the
head of his army. From the news
of the falcons, his foray to claim
more followers of Thaal from
lands southward was a resound-
ing success.
The grandfather himself, how-
ever, did not seem so jovial.
Lord Grantham Havelrox, aged
hero of the lands of Dregar, sat
quietly in his ornate chair.
Perched high between the battle-
ments of his modest palace (gen-
erously donated by the Church of
Thaal in honor of his courage),
he indeed had the best seat in
the house. Fully in front of the
main gates and forty feet above
the ground, the terrace upon
which he sat would afford the
greatest view of the festivities
about to occur. And why should it
be any other way? It was, after
all, the grandson of this great
hero who now was lionized by
the people as their conquering
beacon of hope; the one who
would finally put down the squab-
bling masses still clinging to poly-
theism in the wake of the Wars.
After his son had fallen not in
glory but to an illness (long
thought to have been brought
about by filthy Elvish druids), it
was feared that the name of
Havelrox would pass into history
with him. However, at an early
age, Greyson showed great
promise, excelling in his studies
in the academy of war and the
seminary of Thaal. From thence,
he went on to become the
youngest paladin ever ordained
by the Order of the Clasped
Hands, the peacekeepers of
Thaal.
Grantham shifted in his seat,
his face an emotionless mask as
he stared across the square.
Attendants quickly moved to his
side, but he waved them away.
The two handmaidens looked at
each other sadly; for the last ten
years, many believed that old age
was finally taking its toll on the
mighty warrior. He spoke little,
and carried on only activities that
mandated his presence, such as
this one. Privately, he was
known to do little else than sit
and read, but it was rumored that
the pages were never turned in
the great, ancient bound tome
that he stared into for hour after
hour. The servants would shake
their heads in sorrow at such
rumors. Havelrox was a beloved
man.
Down below, the city's bells
began to ring, and the trumpeters
stopped their practice and took
up their positions. The flags
were unfurled, the noble colors of
Ronwyn set now with the holy
symbol of Thaal, freed to the
wind that wound through the
mountain passes.
Lord Havelrox emitted a low
grunt, but was it recognition,
or...despair? The nearest atten-
dant leaned over him, thinking

56
 False Truth - Continued
perhaps he wished to stand, but
again, he waved her off, and she
resumed her position behind him
with a sad smile, assuming that
this was the best emotion he
could muster for the joy that was
surely upon him.
The rest of the assembled citi-
zens, however, began to see that
the time was near. Greyson was
approaching! The murmur of the
crowd settled quickly to one of
hushed reverence, all eyes turn-
ing to the large gates as the
portcullis slowly began to rise.
The guards now stood at erect
attention, their swollen pride puff-
ing their chests even more in this
moment, as the conquering arm
of the god they served returned,
just days behind the news of his
victories in the south.
The tower guard lowered his
pennant in a signal, and two
teams of oxen began to open the
iron-bound gates. Almost as one,
the crowd leaned forward, all
wanting to be the first to witness
this joyous homecoming, as the
musicians began playing the vic-
tory anthem of the Order of the
Clasped Hands.
Moments passed. Through the
open gates the cloud of dust
could be seen roiling up through
the rocky pass that was the
approach to Ronwyn. The
ground began to tremble with the
hoof beats of many horses, and
the sounds of a force on the
move began to ring in the ears of
the throng.
Finally, with a triumphant smile
visible beneath his helm,
Greyson Havelrox rode at a trot
through the gates, and applause
and accolades exploded through
the square. The young knight
raised his hand in gratitude, as
his general and troops began to
file in behind him, their battle
pennants fluttering with their
motion. The music rang with a
poignant tone of joy as the peo-
ple began to push forward, shout-
ing praise and adoration for
Greyson. Children threw confetti
as the procession moved slowly
on, and when he neared the main
intersection of the square,
Greyson lifted his visor and
looked toward the terrace of the
palace that was his hereditary
home with a smile of victory.
Seeing his grandfather sitting
there, the young man felt a surge
of pride fill him, and he again
raised his hand in salute.
The crowd hushed immediately,
and for a moment, all was
silence, all watching the
exchange between the genera-
tions of the revered clan.
Nodding to his elder, Greyson
took a deep breath.
"Ronwyn!" he shouted with
pride.
"RONWYN!" the soldiers and
crowd echoed, the sound rever-
berating over the walls and
throughout the rocky spires.
"Havelrox!" Greyson called out.
"HAVELROX!" The masses
again shouted to the skies.
Lord Havelrox seemed to stir in
his chair, the light of his esteem
glinting in his eyes, and the hand-
maiden watched him closely; was
that a smile on his lips?
Down in the square, the
younger Havelrox again raised
his voice in tribute and victory for
his lands and his god.
"Thaal!" his voice resounded.
"THAAL!" went up the cry, and
the crowd began to repeat it as a
chant while Greyson and his sol-
diers pumped their fists into the
air, the feast and celebration offi-
cially beginning.
The handmaiden on the terrace
watched as the smile she thought
she had seen on the face of the
elder Havelrox suddenly faded
away, if it was ever really there.
She stepped back to her place,
the faint hope she had held for
his recovery from this state gone.
Had she stayed a moment
longer, she would have been sur-
prised to see a single tear trail
down the lined cheek of the once
again expressionless face.
Scores of miles away, the
windswept walls of Lands End
prison glowered balefully into the
cloudy evening over the rocky
coast. The rays of the setting
sun, falling wildly through gather-
ing clouds, shone starkly on its
salt-swept walls, which from a
distance almost looked white in
the afternoon rays of a sunny
day.
Many felt that those who sat
imprisoned within these high and
guarded walls did not deserve
such an edifice. Those that the
kingdom deemed the blackest of
criminals usually found them-
selves here; executions had,
since the Race Wars, been
looked upon with some disdain.
This disdain led the new govern-
ment to place the penal system
under the administration of the
church; only the vilest and most
unspeakable blasphemies now
met with death. As a result of
this, the walls of Land's End
swelled with the most wretched of
souls, living like animals under
the lash of the guards who saw
their assignments as either pun-
ishment or sadistic enjoyment. It
57
 False Truth - Continued
could be said with truth that many
of the inmates would prefer death
to remaining alive in this hell.
The master of this haven of
despair was Archibald Bronna,
known often by the name he
earned in the Race Wars: Dwarf-
Cleaver. Lord Bronna, a massive
brute of a man, seeming almost a
dwarf himself grown to human
proportions, seemed to relish his
position as overseer of the
prison. This was an oddity to
many; generally, the feeling was
that after his performance in the
Wars, and his subsequent service
to the Church, he deserved a
much loftier position. It was a
long standing and much debated
topic of conversation at the tav-
erns and gambling houses in
Gothar, the nearest city to the
point of rock that Land's End sat
upon (some thirty miles to the
west). It was often said (in
hushed tones; it was known that
the Inquisitors, the investigative
force of the Church, often milled
about in disguise) that Bronna
enjoyed his sadistic practices.
A squall had risen up this eve,
and rain and wind began to
pound the walls with unyielding
fury, as if Nature itself (some
would say Katia, but the mention
of that name would mean incar-
ceration, re-education, and some
believed, death) wished to wash
this blemish of humanity from the
face of Layonara.
The dark dungeon, flickering
torches teasing the inmates with
glimpses into the shadows that
dominated their world, knew
nothing of this storm; the stone
walls held defiantly as they had
for many years, sealing off those
unfortunate enough to be here
from even the hint of fresh air.
Indeed, the only odors to greet
the condemned were sweat,
waste, and blood. Man, dwarf,
elf, and rodent vied equally for
the gruel that served for suste-
nance, and the putrid pails of
water that was their drink often
carried a film of algae or carried
worms in its bottom.
The cells nestled close togeth-
er, very tightly, descending in
concentric circles on many floors.
These stretched from the top of
the structure (those convicted of
"lesser" offenses) to several
dozen feet beneath the earth
(condemned or "special" prison-
ers).
It was here, in the main atrium
of the structure, in full view of
most of the tiered circle of cells,
and easily in earshot of them all
(thanks to the echoes that the
chamber produced) that Lord
Bronna kept his "interrogation"
apparatus. Indeed, in all the
prison proper, it was the only
well-lit area found in the whole of
the place; he wanted all under his
stewardship to see what came to
those being questioned or pun-
ished.
Eruk Nustall stood with his face
pressed against the rough iron
bars of his cell, gazing into the
low light of the walkway. He
chose not to let his eyes fall upon
the scene beginning in the atrium
across from him. He was not
squeamish of blood, mind you; he
wouldn't have been on the last
tier of this forsaken pit if he were
of a gentle sort. No indeed; with
his bare hands, he had crushed
the life from four assailants, one
of whom had been an Inquisitor,
who had accosted him for the
religious symbol he wore. This,
to Eruk, was offense of the high-
est; in his tribe, to blacken the
name of the Father was to turn
your back on all you and your
fathers believed. His crime was
one of what he believed to be
justice; a crime that would not
have been a crime in the eyes of
Vorax, the god of battle…but
Vorax had yielded sway to the
one true god: Thaal.
Or so they wished him to
believe.
He spat into the corridor, the
thought of Thaal again entering
his mind. He hadn't broken, he
thought, a smile curling his lips.
Their long hours of preaching
(often accompanied with the most
exquisite of pain, right there
below in that contraption of tor-
ture) had not converted him; he
held on to his beliefs, the beliefs
of his tribe, with all of his being.
Heretic then, was his label.
And thus, his cell here on the
ground floor.
He wore harsh, biting irons
even in his cell, which was
unusual; but even more unusual,
the guards insisted, was his brute
strength, and they insisted upon
this further discomfort for their
own safety. Amongst all the
inmates here on the ground, he
noted with pride that he alone
stood proud at the bars, not con-
tent to grovel and lament hiding
in the darkness of the small, dirty
rooms.
His eyes flickered around as
they did every day, trying to pen-
etrate the gloom to see if a new
crop of others had been brought
here, but more so to see if any-
one, anyone else, had at least
the glimmer of courage. In this
place of despair, he was always
disappointed.
Until today.
From the left, where the stair-
58
 False Truth - Continued
case from above opened onto the
lowest walkway, three guards
were bringing a new prisoner into
the lowest tier. Eruk could see
the man's face plainly as they
brought him through the doorway,
the torches there illuminating a
look of both contempt
and…something else. A kind of
cunning, perhaps, as if the man's
eyes were taking in everything he
saw, and the mind behind those
eyes was already planning an
escape.
Eruk had seen that look
before…his friend from long ago,
Caliban, had found his way here
before Eruk. When they were
younger, he and Caliban had
often spent time with Caliban's
parents, raiding caravans for
food. The end of the Wars had
left the elves impoverished and
starving; Eruk and his tribe did
not see helping the Wood Elves
(who despite tensions with "civi-
lized" men, were never consid-
ered enemies by Eruk's tribe) as
criminal. Indeed, they saw it as
survival for their longtime forest-
dwelling friends. The young elf
was a wily and quick-witted one;
he often was able to formulate
quick, on the spot plans for taking
only that which was needed, fre-
quently without their ever being
seen by those they pilfered.
Other times, the brash and
resourceful Caliban was able to
simply talk the people out of
some of their wares, using sym-
pathy and clever dialogue.
Eruk had admired his friend,
and believed he would be roam-
ing the forest telling tales of his
youthful adventures for hundreds
of years, so he was quite sur-
prised to find him here, at Land's
End, when he arrived some
months ago. As always, Caliban
used his guile to try to get into
the good graces of the guards,
and, failing this, made known to
Eruk a plan for escaping and
returning with help to free all
those here, whom the logic of the
Wood Elf saw as unnatural at
best.
Eruk also saw the failure of this
plan, just across from his cell,
written forever in the spiraling
pattern of blood that sprayed
forth from his friend as he died,
horribly and without mercy. He
still recalled the guttural laughter
of Bronna as he worked the
levers and pedals of the machine
that ripped first the flesh from
Caliban's bones, then the soul
from his body.
He snorted in disgust as the
guards brought the man past.
Keep your planning up, smart
one, he thought.
Soon, t'will be your blood I see
fanning the beams.
Disgruntled and troubled yet
again by his memories, Eruk
walked to the rough mat that was
his bed and sat, staring at the
same crack in the stone floor that
he had for many moons, knowing
that it was raining from the water
that slowly gathered in it.
With those deemed heretics to
the religion of Thaal, some con-
cern for saving their souls still
remained, even within Land's
End. To facilitate this, those con-
victed of heresy "enjoyed" one
hour per week out of their cells,
but only to the chapel that served
as a small temple of Thaal.
These inmates were closely
guarded and allowed only to
speak softly to one another, hop-
ing that the constant prayers
offered up by the clerics on duty
would spark their souls to salva-
tion.
In this small yet ornate room
(clearly the most lavish room in
this tomb for the living), Eruk
again found himself, much
against his will. He had learned
not to struggle with the guards,
however; that had gotten him one
too many times on the machine,
and even his sturdy frame and
stout heart could take only so
much of that. Begrudgingly he
sat on the wooden pew, his head
swiveling gently around to see
the same faces as always.…
…until he turned to his left to
find the face of the stranger he
had seen led in days before. The
man seemed to be smiling, but
not smiling; it was as if his face
were stern, hopeful, and smug,
all at the same time.
Leaning over, the stranger
whispered.
"I noticed your ill temper at
being brought here, brother," he
said. His voice was calming, yet
held the tint of command; as
though he were used to people
listening to him.
"I am not your brother," Eruk
answered.
A true smirk crept across the
man's features.
"Are we not all brothers in
Thaal?"
Eruk turned sharply, his face
beginning already to redden.
"Hold your tongue," he hissed
through clenched teeth, "or I will
remove it!"
"Such rage in a house of the
one true god," the stranger mum-
bled, looking away.
Eruk sighed heavily, resting his
arms on the pew in front of him
and his head on his arms. Who
did this man think he was?
Talking to him in such a fashion;
indeed, perhaps his initial belief
that this man was cunning was a
mistake; perhaps he was simply
crazy.
Eruk allowed himself to glance
to the side to see if the man
59
 False Truth - Continued
remained at his side, and sure
enough, he still sat, perhaps even
closer.
"Leave me be," Eruk said.
"I wish only to find the path to
goodness…is that not why you
are here?"
Eruk raised his head and
answered only with a frown. The
stranger was unimpressed.
"Or I suppose a savage such
as yourself still worships the
sticks and the stones, eh?" With
this statement, the man let out a
low, condescending chuckle, and
turned his eyes back to the pulpit.
The large barbarian was out-
raged. Before he thought, he
seized the man by the arm. "It
would be best if you kept your
mouth shut around me, berk," he
growled. "I am a follower of the
Father of Battle, and I will hear
no more of your mockery!"
With an over exaggerated man-
ner, the man turned and locked
eyes with the larger man. "
"Ah," he began to speak, no
longer whispering, "You seem
much too large to worship the
god of the dinks."
Before he even thought about
it, Eruk released the man's arm
and backhanded him across the
mouth. The stranger seemed to
lift up off the pew and tumble
backwards, but even enraged
Eruk knew that he had not hit him
that hard; indeed, the blow did
not land as solidly as he thought
it should have.
The guards quickly moved in to
contain the situation, but in typi-
cal fashion, appeared to be will-
ing to let the two men fight it out
rather than intervene.
Rubbing his chin, the man
climbed easily to his feet. "You
follow Vorax, and that is the best
you can do?"
Eruk charged over the pew like
a bull, but the man was suddenly
not there; he had deftly side-
stepped the onrushing brute, and
with a simple gesture, tripped
him. Eruk's head impacted with
the pew, cracking the wood.
"AAAAARRRRRRGGGGGHH-
HHH!" he screamed in anguish,
turning with fire in his eyes and a
speed denying his large size. He
again lunged at the smaller man,
and the stranger again dodged;
but this time, Eruk allowed for
this, and caught him by the
prison tunic. With a mighty tug,
he heaved the man to him,
grasping him by the throat and
hefting him into the air.
"By Vorax's law, I shall kill you
for those words!"
The man struggled, but not in a
way that Eruk was used to. By
now, the guards had intervened,
fearing a death on their watch, in
the temple, no less; but Eruk's
mighty strength made it all but
impossible for them to loosen his
grip…although his grip…didn't
feel right.
"Vorax has no law for murder,
my friend," the man spoke too
easily, though he should not be
able to breathe. "But I do not
suffer from such hindrances."
With this said, Eruk felt a point
pressed into the soft spot
beneath his throat, and saw that
the man had, from where he had
no idea, produced a small,
needlelike dagger and placed it
there. He looked up into the
eyes of the man, but was sur-
prised to see no hate; only cer-
tainty.
He set the man down and
immediately the guards dragged
the two apart, but he noticed that
the dagger, or whatever it was,
was gone. Of course, he would
not mention it to their keepers; he
might consider this man to be his
enemy, but as such, he deserved
the test of combat, not punished
by the guards like a child who
had let his crops wither. As the
guards forced the stranger out
first, he strained enough to get
close to Eruk one last time.
"What you know, I know. Now
know this." He said, and Eruk felt
a pat on his chest. He paid it no
mind at the time.
"To hells with you," he spat.
With a bit of a struggle that
seemed, at least on the part of
the arrogant man to be a bit over-
ly done, the keepers took him
from the room, his weekly privi-
lege revoked.
Eruk sighed, knowing it meant
a trip back downstairs as well,
but looking about, he knew in his
heart he would be glad to be out
of what he thought of as a blas-
phemous place.
Once the stranger was gone, it
was his turn to be walked by the
guards back to his small hole of a
cell. After a few minutes, his
daily meal was pushed carelessly
through the bars, and then the
guards settled themselves in for
their own meals.
Only then did he take out the
scrap of folded parchment the
man had slipped him there at the
end of their confrontation, but for
many hours he would ponder
what it said--after he had eaten it,
of course.
My friend:
I apologize whole-heartedly for
what I have to do, but I have to
know if you are with me or
against me…if you are reading
this, then I have decided you are
with me.
If you are with me, we shall be
free of this place. I cannot con-
vince you this is not a trick, but
do I need to?
If you are interested, we shall
speak again in the so-called tem-
ple next week. Make it look like
you are repenting, and wish to
60
 False Truth - Continued
apologize.
Sleep as well as you can, and
may whatever god is yours watch
over you and give you strength.
Eruk sat with his brow fur-
rowed, several of the words were
unfamiliar to him, but he had
been able to discern the overall
meaning.
What to make of this? He
wasn't sure.
But he would give it careful
thought. He remembered the
dagger that appeared at his
throat, and just as quickly van-
ished without a trace.
One so clever just may be too
clever, he thought.
Or he may be one to listen to.
He finished his salty, tasteless
paste of unidentifiable food and
then lay down on his mat to think.
To be continued….

More Layonara Pictures from Player Albums

61
 Open Gaming License and Notices
[d20] Requires the use of the Dungeons & Dragons Player's Handbook, Third Edition, published by
Wizards of the Coast, Inc.

Layonara is a trademark owned by Daniel Scott. Layonara Studios is a registered trademark of Layonara
Studios. The mention of or reference to any company or product in these pages is not a challenge to the trade-
mark or copyright ownership.

Designation of Open Game Content: All text contained red text and containing a d20 logo is hereby designat-
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Designation of Product Identity: Product Identity is not Open Game Content. The following is hereby designat-
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63
 Layonara World Map
Cartographer: Peter Mitchell (Rasterick)

64