Adoven Silentread Meets the Q'em Tal

Adoven Silentread is one of my favorite characters. He hasn't made any appearances in Tiemriel's Revenge, but he does exist in Mithia as a wandering bard.

After realizing that I haven't added anything to the blog for a while, I decided I would write about Adoven and use him as a means to introduce the Q'em Tal which will probably show up in later books as well.

So without further ado, here is a short tale about Adoven and his journey through Ith Il'Nasa...

Adoven Silentread Meets the Q'em Tal

This place was further than he had ever been. Adoven found himself aimlessly wandering through a forest at the Southern reaches of Arrotha, southeast of the Collapsing Summit. This forest was called Ith Il’Nasa, and it was a very strange forest. Otherworldly globes of light like giant fire bugs hung lazily in the air, occasionally dancing about the handsome young half-elf as he passed by, as if they were greeting him, or getting some measure of him, perhaps. At first Adoven thought these strange orbs to be a fairy, or some similar creature not common to the prime material plane, but he had seen fairies before, and these were not like those he had seen.

That was not the only strange sight in the forest, however. As he moved through the forest, he occasionally caught a glimpse of a strange-looking deer. It had three large horns on the center of its head, two smaller horns to the side of the trio, and fangs long enough to hang over the creature’s bottom lip. They scampered away as Adoven got close, and he only saw a glimpse of the beast before it got far.

The frogs here were strange as well. Except they weren’t frogs, but llamhigyn-- a bizarre mix of bat and frog features. The creature had a frog-like body, bat-like wings, and a long barbed tail like that of an imp. The sight of the creature gave Adoven pause. He was familiar with these strange creatures-- he had in fact written a song about them once.

“How strange,” Adoven said. His tone was flat and unexcited, inquisitive even. He certainly had never seen any creatures like this before in Arrotha, and one would expect him to be more surprised by it all, especially considering that llamhigyn were known to come from Farui, the world inhabited by fairies and other such mischievous creatures, but Adoven’s reaction was no more surprised than one who had run into an old friend unexpectedly.

“Come here, little guy,” Adoven said, holding his hand out nonthreatening towards one of the llamhigyn. The frog-like creature was balancing its body on a tree branch, its weight evenly distributed on its tail and the bend of its wings. It turned its head sideways, its slit-like pupil moved back and forth observing the intruder. “Come on, I won’t hurt you,” Adoven pleaded. He took a step forward, and the llamhigyn shifted nervously. Adoven stepped forward once more, excitement growing as he reached his hand closer, but just as he was feeling that he was almost there, the llamhigyn lifted off its body and flew away.

Adoven watched with earnest curiosity as the creature fluttered off through the branches. It was gone. A sense of disappointment set in, and he sighed. He profoundly wished the llamhigyn would be his friend. He stare off in the direction the creature went and shrugged to himself.

“Oh well,” Adoven said to no one in particular. He trotted off in the same direction the llamhigyn went, cheerfully whistling a jaunty tune as he went. The words played in his mind as he whistled the tune. It was an old sailor’s song about a drunken pirate that fell overboard and was lost to see for many years. Adoven loved that sort of song. It had an upbeat melody and a fair bit of humor.

The strange forest did not get any less strange the further he went in. He saw strange plants with snapping teeth that tried to stretch out and bite him as he passed. He thought it was fun and tried to see how close he could get without getting bit. Multi-colored flowers were being munched on by small pig-like creatures with a trunk-like snout, and pretty butterflies kept stopping on trees and turning into a small block of ice every time a llamhigyn flew too near. The trees themselves seem to move ever-so-slightly, and the floor was littered with tiny mushrooms that grew furry caps like they had a head of curly hair.

Adoven observed all of this, unconcerned. He thought it was quite nice, as a matter of fact. Much of the world was much too much the same, and this was all something different.

As he walked deeper into the forest, it seemed that the trees were moving out along a path, clearing the way for him to pass. In the distance, along the exposed forest ground, he could see the flickering of light off in the distance, and he only then realized it was quite dark. Half-elf, half-human, Adoven’s eyes adjusted easily to changes in light. His low-light vision enhanced what little light was available, reflecting shades and hues more than color, and Adoven rarely noticed when the color slowly faded from the world. He was always dreaming, and those thoughts kept him from noticing such unimportant things.

He moved towards the flickers of light and noticed a tiny form off in the distance. At first he thought it might be one of the strange piglets feeding on more flowers, or perhaps it was some kind of monkey, but as he got closer, he saw the truth of it-- this was something entirely different.

Two stout figures, humanoid in appearance, but unlike anything Adoven had ever seen, stood in the clearing with man-sized spears leveled his way. Though the spears were of the size typically expected to be carried by human soldiers, the humanoid creatures were not. They weren’t even the size of a dwarf, and if Adoven had to guess, they would have barely come up to his knee cap.

They spoke in a strange, choppy language, similar to elvish but more primitive. That gave Adoven an idea…

“Good day,” Adoven said in his best elvish. He pulled off his extravagant plumed hat, so full of feathers he might have had an entire peacock sitting atop it, and he bowed in an over-exaggerated sweeping gesture, bring the hat so far across his body that it swept the dirt of the forest floor. He was charming and handsome, his features were young, thin and very disarming, and his clothes were made of fine fabrics, brightly colored, and decorated with laces and frills like those worn by the magistrates of the most impressive cities.

The two humanoids exchanged looks, chatting with each other in their own language for a moment, then turned their attention back to the intruder.

“Good day,” the one of the right said in elvish, but neither moved to lower their spears.

Adoven smiled, looking the two creatures over. They were oddly plump, their lower bodies fatter than the rest, giving the creature the general shape of a tear drop. Their heads were perfectly round, and their eyes were small and long in a elvish sort of way. They wore robes-- black for the one on the right and a teal-colored robe on the one on the left, and their hats were perfectly round, wide-brimmed, and came to a point in the middle.

“Have any drink?” Adoven asked casually, moving forward and ignoring the spears.

“Hault!” the creature on the right called. “Why have you come here?”

Adoven shrugged. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’ve never been here before.”

The creature on his left made a gesture to the creature on the right, and he seemed to be saying something about the lute strapped to Adoven’s back.

“Ah, you look music?” Adoven asked. He moved to grab the instrument, and the creature on his right moved the spear threateningly but was stopped by the other with an outstretched hand. Adoven smiled. “Here’s a tune I’ve been really into lately,” he said.

His fingers pressed against the strings, all spread out, and his other hand strummed gently across the strings, letting out a reverberating sound that was pleasant to the ears. He closed his eyes, strumming and humming, and occasionally throwing in a quick variation of the chords that sounded like an overlaying melody over the harmonious chord.

He began to sing--

Pilos, oh Pilos,

You fell out to sea;

You drank up the wine,

And left no more for me.

I guess it was time,

That we parted ways;

Good luck to you Pilos,

For the rest of your days.

The currents they pull,

And your journey began;

You felt like driftwood,

Until you hit the sand.

Now you live alone,

With the monkeys and pigs;

On an island off Zabrun,

For as long as you live.

Pilos, oh Pilos,

You fell out to sea;

You drank up the wine,

And left no more for me.

We would have found you,

But you left us none;

Good luck to you Pilos,

Farewell and so long.

When he was done singing, he saw the two creatures staring at him strangely. Several other creatures, similarly dressed, came to see as well, and they were all talking amongst themselves now.

“What a fun little tune,” Adoven said. “Would you like to hear the rest?”

“You are a wanderer,” the black-robed creature remarked.

Adoven shrugged.

“We have met one like you before,” the creature continued. “I am Puwu Duqiwu. Welcome to our village.”

“Well met,” Adoven said, bowing deeply. “I am Adoven Silentread.”

The creatures looked at each other and nodded.

“Come with me,” Puwu said. “I am sure that you are thirsty.”

Adoven did not answer, but followed anyway. He was so distracted by the sight of the place. The whole village was bathed in torchlight. There were many of these small creatures all about, and the village was comprised of very sophisticated buildings that seemed to be constructed out of living roots. There seemed to be a festival going on, and the smell of cooked meats filled the air.

“Have you met our kind before?” Puwu asked as they passed through the city towards a large table filled with foods and drinks.

Adoven thought about it for some time, and then shrugged. “I can’t say I have,” he admitted.

“Not surprising,” Puwu said. “Q’em Tal rarely intermingle with other races. Though some Q’em Tal have been very adamant about it lately.”

“And what do you think?” Adoven said, as he accepted a glass of wine from Puwu.

“I think we are better left alone,” Puwu said honestly.

Adoven sipped his wine. It was sweet and tangy. He quite liked it.

“You said something about a wanderer?” Adoven asked. “Where is he?”

Puwu laughed. “He’s gone.”

“Gone where?” Adoven asked.

Puwu shrugged. “He wandered somewhere else. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” Adoven said.

“You are very strange,” Puwu said. “Are all elves so strange?”

“You haven’t met many?” Adoven said curiously.

Puwu shook his head.

“I am not truly an elf,” Adoven admitted, and that brought a curious glance from Puwu.

“You’re not?”

“My mother was a human,” he explained.

“And your father?” Puwu asked.

“Oh, yes. He was an elf,” Adoven said with a smile. “By the way, this is excellent wine.”

“Drink as much as you will,” Puwu offered. “But we must ask that you play more of your songs for us.”

That statement brought a wide smile to Adoven’s lips. He loved a captive audience, perhaps more than anything in the world, and he hoped that they would like to hear his songs as much as he wanted to play them.

By the time Adoven was ready to leave, he had made great friends with the Q’em Tal. It seemed that the entire village was there to see him off the next day.

“You will come back?” Puwu asked.

“Will you have more wine?” Adoven asked.

“Plenty!” Puwu promised.

“Then, yes,” Adoven said, and he smiled.

The Q’em Tal waved and called after him as Adoven made his way through the forest, not the way he had come but the way he had yet to go. He thought about the other wanderer that Puwu mentioned and wondered if he should ever meet him on the road or any other place. Just knowing that there were others like him, wanderers, those without any particular destination or place to call home, that fact, it gave Adoven and sense of belonging.

He broke into whistling, the lyrics about Pilos and his journey playing through his head.

Western Arrotha

Mylberath, Valendar, and Esterburg

Arrotha, Labeled

Western Arrotha is home to many diverse human kingoms. One of the most notable of these is Mylberath, located centrally in the western end of Arrotha. Mylberath is a common trading post for those who may be passing down the Western edge of Arrotha, many ships stopping in Mylberath after having doing trade in Brealia, or on their way North to trade with Brealia. Therefore, of the three cities, Mylberath is the most active when it comes to trade. However, many ships will travel along the Wyvern Trail River, which flows from the Dragon's Spine mountains, to do trade with Valendar and Esterburg respectively.

The cities of Mylberath, Valendar and Esterburg are well-known for their strong alliance, relying on each other as much as their own defenses in fighting off any potential threats that may arise in the area. Being located so near to wide mountain ranges, they are often faced with very diverse dangers, including orcs, goblins, and highwaymen; these threats being the most prominent in the region. But occasionally, they are faced with more terrifying threats from giants who are most commonly found in the Dragon's Spine Mountains, werewolves, which are commonly found in the Forest Pass, or Gnolls which are ever-present in the Silver Ore Bluffs. These are only some of the common threats that these allied cities face.

The alliance was brokered long ago by King Deren Striker III of Mylberath after a magical construct, a tower of power, had been erected within the Forest Pass, and a powerful Warlock had threatened his Kingdom with servitude. Once the threat was identified, Clara Voidstorm, the archmage and appointed Voice of the City in Esterburg, easily garnered support from the ruling council to join in the alliance. Duke Grant Billows, on the other hand, a major rival in trade with Mylberath at the time, wasn't convinced of the need for his city to join into the alliance, until the threat of the Warlocks domain unexpectedly arrived at his doorstep in the form of wraiths riding powerful acid dragons, wreaking devastation on his city in short order. The alliance was quickly drawn up and established as an ever-lasting agreement, and the combined forces of the three cities quickly overran the Warlock and destroyed his evil construct, ending a dark era for the western cities of Arrotha. The alliance, which still stands in present-day Arrotha has forever been known as the Karen Hopper Treaty, named after Clara's sister, who, like Clara was a powerful spellcaster, but had unfortunately lost her life in battling the Warlock. The name was presented by Duke Grant Billows himself as a show of respect and recompense for Esterburg's loss of a great hero.

Today, the cities of the Karen Hopper Treaty remain the most prominent powers in the region.

The Southern United Tribes

Often referred to as "The Southern Tribes" or even "The Nomads in the South," The Southern United Tribes are hardly that, competing fiercely with each other for dominance of the region. However, when threatened by outside intrusion, the tribes are known to ban together to protect their old ways of life, preferring to work together rather than allow their lands to be overrun by outsiders.

The tribes of barbarians who live in the land continue the old traditions of hunting migrating herds and living off the land. They compete regularly amongst themselves to demonstrate their strength and power, and they maintain old traditions of honor. Among those traditions is a generally accepted revulsion to magic, believing that spellcasting is the trick of a coward and that true strength is found in physical prowess.

Among these tribes, the Spearhead Tribe, the Mountainpass Tribe, and the Earthskin Tribe are the most dominant. Although the tribal names once held great meaning for the tribes, generations of breeding between tribes has caused many of the more obvious distinctions between the barbarian tribes to become more or less homogeneous between the tribes. It is said, however, by those who have traveled to those southern reaches where the barbarian tribes call home that the barbarians are unlike any other civilization of men that had seen, in terms of height, strength, and thickness of the skin. Wild tales of the barbarian tribes talk about barbarian heroes stopping the thrust of an orc spear against his bare skin as if he were wearing a powerful mage armor. Whether this is true or not is widely unknown amongst the more civilized societies.

Sanctum of Azaos

Sanctum of Azaos

Arrotha, Silver Ore Bulffs

In the northern peaks of the Silver Ore Bluffs, there resides the famous Sanctum of Azaos. The sanctuary was established by Kihm Nokha, or often times referred to as "The Enlightened One" by followers of Azaos. The stories of Kihm Nokha speak of him as being a common soldier in a great war between two human cities. After watching his friends and family fall to the blade of his enemies, he went into such a battle fury that he took out several score of combatants by himself, cutting the way through the ranks and ultimately turning the tide of the battle. When his enemies lay dead at his feet, he was overwhelmed with grief, and overwhelmed just as much by the senselessness of violent warfare. He retreated to the mountains where he lived in solitude for fifteen years before returning to the place of his birth. But he only returned to offer his family a better path. His family, thinking him to be mad, rejected him, and he turned to the streets, living among those who slept in the gutters and alleyways, instructed them on "The Path of Azaos" and ultimately leading them to his sanctuary in the Silver Ore Bluffs.

That is the legend of Kihm Nokha. How much of it is true is up to speculation, but they continue to thrive as an independent monastery, teaching "The Path of Azaos" and preaching about an universal strength greater than the gods.

Brealia and Auxoria

Brealia and Auxoria

Arrotha of the World Mithia

These two kingdoms both reside on the Northwestern edge of Arrotha. However, despite the proximity of these two kingdoms, they are quite distinct, both in their origins and in culture.

Brealia occupies the Northwestern region surrounding the Enchanted Peaks Mountains that resides just Northwest of the Duskwood in the Northwestern most reaches of Arrotha. The success of Brealia lies in their location, serving as the nearest port to the Northern preaches of Aeror, and the nearest port to Tailus, though there is not nearly as much trade coming from Tailus as there is from Aeror. It is also worthwhile to note that the Gobi Desert is due West of Brealia, and therefore, while the kingdoms in Gobi Desert are scarce and generally a lot smaller due to the harsh conditions, Brealia also does a lot of trade with the kingdoms of the Gobi Desert as well. It is these ports that have led to the success of this kingdom, and unlike many kingdoms in the land, Brealia is operated by a council of high captains, not by a single lineage.

Auxoria, on the other hand, grew much more slowly than did Brealia. While Brealia's growth was spurred on by trade in their harbors, Auxoria grew from a single castle, owned by an old wizard named Auxoria. Auxoria had travelled the lands wide and far, originally from the far-off lands of Zabrun, and she had eventually migrated to Arrotha and decided to find a place to call her home. Her castle would be considered humble compared to the great castle that now stands at the base of the mountain, and the once-lonely castle is now surrounded by many dwellings and tall towers. The transformation happened very gradually, as generations of young spellcasters had come to Auxoria seeking to study under her tutelage, and as the old wizard accepted more and more apprentices, they began to grow in number, at first from the apprentices themselves, but eventually from the families of the apprentices, and so on. Eventually, the mountains were covered with small hamlets, each belonging to a different lineage, and they all unified together, electing a new leader every several years to represent their affairs, but acting more as a republic in all practice. The city is heavy with magic, and many have began living there who are not practitioners of magic, but it is said to have some of the highest concentration of magic users in all of Mithia.

Kamde Harbor

Diederich Kamde was said to be an enthusiastic adventurer. Although he wasn't possessed of any sort of aptitude for the blade, nor did he practice magic, and he hadn't the faintest idea of how to properly operate a bow, Diederich was possessed of something entirely unique and impossible to learn, luck. Diederich was born in the insignificant hamlet known as "Tree Cross," so named due to the large and unnaturally sprawling tree that sat at the intersection of the two major roads that met at the center of town, located in the Eastern World in central Zabrun. And so, it was said that luck alone had guided his safe passage across the deep seas, aboard a merchant vessel which was said to have sunk only months after Diederich's voyage with the crew, and from the last harbor the ship, ironically known as "Lucky Rose," was seen in, the harbor known as Boulder Fall Harbor, and from there, the Avrarlum Dwarf harbor, where he learned of the trade of precious metals and weapons, he got the clever idea to search for dwarves in Arrotha. And thus, Diederich made his journey from the western shores of Straephus to to the eastern shores of Arrotha and spent several months, alongside a notable monk who was later known for opening his own monastery and having claimed "Diedrich's luck rubs off on people," Diederich happened upon a rather unknown group of dwarves known as the "Greystone" dwarves who had begun carving a grand mine in the southern reaches of Nin Thoram.

Somehow, perhaps with significant assistance from his traveling companion, the monk known as "Mao-Zan," Diederich was able to establish a friendship with the dwarves, even said to have worked in their mines for several long months until winter passed. The Greystone dwarf's mine would later be known as Bel Buldohr, and Diederich would later create a small tradepost on the shores to the southeast of Nin Thoram. He and his monk friend would often travel far along the western-reaching roads to kingdoms that once resided in the now desolate Voiceless Valley. Soon, word of the magnificent metals and weapons coming from a small tradepost on the southeastern ridge of the Nin Thoram mountains brought ambitious entrepreneurs, and the small tradepost soon flourished into a hamlet. Soon, a small harbor was built in town, sending fine weapons around to other ports in Arrotha and nearby harbors in the Western World, and little by little, the small trading post established by Diederich and Mao-Zan became a flourishing city.

Despite not being the most popular harbor in Arrotha due to its location, the availability of fine weapons and minerals from the Greystone Dwarfs led to formation of Kamde Harbor, a place that served for centuries as a connection between the dwarves in the mountain and the societies of man. Unlike the Avrarlum Dwarves who were known to do business with non-dwarf tradesman directly and with zeal, the Greystone Dwarves managed most of their trade agreements with the citizens of Kamde Harbor, a relationship long ago predicated by one lucky man, Diederich Kamde, who is still eternalized as a statue in the city square of Kamde Harbor.

Memoirs: Elrin Frostborn 2

On the Nature of Dragons

Written by Anthony Stuertzel

For most races, understanding the dragons of the realm is a nigh impossible task. Part of the reason they are so incomprehensible is because of their long lifespans, which stretch far beyond even the centuries-long lifespan of the elves. Therefore, you think the elves would be the most inclined to understand these mysterious creatures, but they are perhaps the least equipped to understand a dragon’s psyche.

No, in fact, I dare say that it is the human races, despite their short span of life, who can empathize with a dragon’s mentality the most. For it is the human races which are above all driven by wild emotions and passion, much like many dragon-kin. However, even amongst the dragons, there are vast distinctions. Much like the elemental planes themselves, which according to religious doctorine was no small part of the initial creation of the dragons, the dragons are often seen with polar opposites, from the wrathful red dragons who spread devestation across the land, destroying or dominating any who cross its path, to the magestic white dragons, who like its icy breath is the diametric opposite of the red dragon in personality as well: calm, righteous, and protective.

It’s almost as if dragons were created to represent duality itself. Scholars and monks have often mused over the idea of “duality,” a term which describes our innate impulses, both of agression and passivism, of selfish and selfless, of man and of woman, and so on and so forth. It is said that the individual exists in peace with the world when the two sides of duality are joined in harmony, and so, too, you must wonder if this is the same for the world in regards to dragons.

Perhaps that is part of the reason why I fought so hard to convince my allies to trap Tiemriel, rather than destory him. Perhaps Emella, the Celestial Goddess, saw the duality of the world and urged me to preserve it. And certainly enough, in the final fall of the great wyrm, the resulting devestation was much worse than we could have imagined. Garrenbiuug, the patron demon of chaos, set forth his great designs upon the world, irreversibly scarring the people of the world perhaps forever.

It is curious to me now, looking back on the events, to find that dark forces tend to have a much greater successf of affecting the change in the world’s cycle, that nature I have described so many times before of the world to return to a point it has once been time and time again, than those of good. For even with a greater perspective of the mechanisms of society and change, I find that change for the better requires a subtle interjection, while sinister change often takes place with rapid succession, washing away the foundation of positive structures and replacing them with structures of society that are wrought of anger, fear, sorrow, and other powerful motivators.

We often find ourselves espousing our commitment to positive change, but is these impulsive negative emotions that really inspire action, not altruism, and perhaps that is the whole point of it all. Perhaps these red dragons are like the sinister forces of chaos that mean to derail us from foward progression, that we might always have some greater force to strive to conquor, and these great white wyrms are here to provide a guiding hand toward that perpetual progress, lest we ever achieve our ambitions of making the perfect society, only to change in the other direction much like the spiral design of “duality” teaches us, and teaches us, too, that all things in the world need balance… even good and evil.

-Elrin Frostborn