Page 2Oak’s Hollow: Large and bulky, member of Oak’s Hollow are the strongmen of their kind. In wolf form, they easily out mass of grugach or Yarra Draug shifter.Ravenwing: Each one of these werewolves is jet black in color and high secretive. The Whisperers: Alway there, but never seen or heard, the Whisper make Ravenwing look outgoing and social. Having had an opportunity to meet an individual of this pack, their fur is mottled in color and can change to match their surroundings. THey have a strict form of pack mentality, and tend to think as ‘We’ instead of ‘I’. Do not seek out individual member of this pack for it may cause pack disunity, but if you are lucky enough, one may choose to speak with you personally. Split Tree: One of the former guardians of Blood Forest, the Split Tree pack would try to warm or scare off invaders before resorting to violence. Twin Moons: Prankster and jokester all, the Twin Moons were responsible for initiating the attack on the centaurs made by us last year. Given that, they are excellent at what they do, having once lead a drow patrol of Lloth -worshippers off a cliff in the summer of 1003. Southern Wren: Contact with the pack is definitely not recommended! The are deliberately cure to non-werewolves. Since the problem in the Centaurlands has arisen, the norther werewolves have decided to stay in Tarngire, in the northwestern section known as the Shadow Wilds. They have been staunch allies in the recent troubles with the drow and are more than willing to assist anyone fight the drow. It would appear that in their desire to enslave the elves of their land, the drow are also willing to enslave the wolves. This has caused the northern werewolves to firmly ally themselves with the elves. Missives and Dream Journal Entries Concerning the Centaurlands. July 22nd 52,025 YD Second and Third Dream Combination (From Metron Dragonsvalley); I began again, suddenly, to have a sensation of falling, and could not stop myself. Things rushed by me, time and space didn’t seemed to matter anymore. This sensation was very familiar. When things began to slow down, my eyes finally focused on a landscape. The color was faded from everything. I could see a vacant field, but it was all gray… An odd breeze wafted through the grass, carrying echoes of what once was. Was this the future? Why had it not changed? It still felt like the Centaurlands, but it was all totally wrong. So wrong. There was a sickly sweet scent of decay that assaulted my nostrils. Out of the corner of my eyes I saw a woman. She was dressed in a long tunic that billowed in the odd breeze. Turning to face her I saw more. There was a child with her, a pregnant mother and a wise old woman. Their eye were dim as if they were mourning. They seemed to cling to each other to keep from drifting away. “They didn’t listen. We are alone. This should not be.” I felt myself slipped away the images drifting from me and answers to question I might have had just out of reach. Now I can see a woman, a centaur with white fur. Her again? What is it she is doing? There is a smell. A stench of rotting flesh and the moans of undead. She is being surrounded but she doesn’t seem at all afraid. They are lining up behind her like an army. She is looking off into the distance to where everything is lush and green. There is laughter again. The falling sensation happened once again as my vision shifted. There rushed a sound like roaring thunder and a voice that boomed “YOU FAILED!” The room is to dark to see much of anything but the voice seems to command everyone’s attention. “I have not tolerance for failure, but you are the key. You will have one more change, except this of be destroyed…” Everything shifted once more as my ears were ringing. I felt as though i were underground again, with a forest nearby. Have I been here before? It was an odd combination of smells. There was a pair of glowing eyes that seemed to be fixed upon me. Sharp teeth dripped ichor from a gaping maw. It felt like someone else was there, with this beast, but every time I tried to focus on them, my eyes slid away. This time i caught a glimpse of something… a hand: a shadowy hand. The beings seemed to be standing at the edge of a pit that seemed to be swirling and blacker then the darkness about me. The pit smells of death and sounded of weeping Tortured souls. The pit seemed bigger than last time and the sound of shrieking is intertwined with the sound of panicked whinnying. “How shall I proceed?” “Crush them.” Looking down, my hands were covered in blood. Darkness claimed me again and I welcomed in this time. As my consciousness pulled away. I could just barely make out the voice of a young child, calling out “WHYYYYYYYYYYYY????” Then I awoke.... August 9th 52,025 YD (From Metron Dragonsvalley) In preparation to travel to the land of Nightmare’s birth. I cast my Dreaming and passed through the ebon veil. I was greeted by a feeling of running, but somehow in four-time… I didn’t dwell on it overmuch as the Dream shifted. I could see a huge shape, obscured by mist and shadow. As my perception came closer. I could see that it was hairy, with large tusks and clawed hands. It was ferocious, ripping into being after being. I could see that only some of them were Centaurs that this beast was rending. I witnessed a village try to retaliate… only to be destroyed utterly by this thing, which i later found was called “the Unholy Bandersnatch.” One man came forward thought he carnage. One Centaur- clad in gleaming white plate mail armor, with a mid-length, glowing blade. He confronted the beast,unflinching, stead. He stabbed the sword into the hulk- his aim true. It pierced the heart of the thing, but the thing just laughed at him. A horrid, wet laugh. It pulled the sword from it own chest, the hero’s hand still gripping the handle, and snapped the blade. It then proceeded to devour the her, sucking the nver marrow from his body… AndIi awoke in a cold sweat. November 16th 52,025 YD (From Metron Dragonsvally) Kyomi… I am stuck by my own ineptitude with my spells, sometimes. I think that I am reach too far, too fast. Either that, or it's some force trying to keep one from seeing the information I was trying to see. I am still trying to keep a nosebleed from dripping onto this parchment. I remember something… or rather, realized something… going into the all. The language that was being spoken around Guilliam’s body was a dialect of Equine, the Centaur’s language. I do not know by it did not occur to me Sunday, perhaps it was how it was spoken… low, guttural, with no lyrical quality to it that Equine usually exhibits. At any rate… my first question… in the form of a Vision… was “Let me see and feel where Guilliam’s original body and soul are.” I saw something that felt… like it was in the past, Guilliam was himself… just barely Elven, I think… walking with Faelinn. The image shifted and he was alone and walking. It was a forested area, in the daytime. I am sorry that I cannot be more specific than that. Then everything froze, replaced by an inky blackness. I was overcome with an incredible pressure as if a blow was struck across my mind. When I came to, I had the bloody nose that I am still attending to. The second Vision that I cast was… “Let me see anything else we need to do to fix Guilliam…” There was a staccato of images… it was as if I’d opened a floodgate in my mind. I could see and feel an army marched towards me… Blood everywhere… Death in droves- decay… undead feelings… People were screaming. Everything shifted majorly again… And I saw a pair of hands… they were familiar looking.. But I know I’ve not seen them in Dream or Visions. The hands turned slowly as my focus shifted and I saw Lyossa-- Nightmare’s mother-- beyond those hands. Everything went dark again. I saw a great temple, Darkenss. The Unholy Bandersnatch of the Centaurlands. Blackness. The sample temple from a moment ago, in ruin. The wreckage shuddered and froze, fading into one last sequence… there are four stone tablets… glowing, swirling through the air, flashing in yellow, red, green and blue, swirling and shining brighter, coming together. In a flash, the vision was gone, replaced by my bedchamber. I’m still feeling dirty… used… as thought I’ll never be able to clean myself… maybe my SOUL enough to feel right again. Feelings of queasiness still plagues me… maybe I reached too far… November 11th 52,025 YD (From Metron Dragonsvalley) Greeting, as Kyomi asked in her missive to me, I tried to narrow down the search for Guilliam… I asked the following questions: “Is Pandross, himself; holding Guilliam?” The vision began with seeing those hands again. The same ones as the first series of Vision… As they came more into focus, they looked healthier, more… alive, in a way. These were the sand hands that Lyossa was bowing to, there’s no denying ti. I could see more of the person… as though through their eyes. I could make out the forearms as well as the hands this time. I could feel myself drifting in, fading in and out when something stopped me and seemed to knock me back. When I came to, I felt the nausea once more… and it felt as though someone had been strangling me. When I checked in the mirror, I could see long, thing red marks around my throat. I felt that I was progressing even thought I was just attacked through the Vision, so I decided that I would try once more… I had a hunch… My next question was, “Show me the entire bare arms of the person I saw just seeing in my previous vision.” The blackness came but I could not pierce through it this time. Something screamed “NOOOOO!” at me and showed me back, hard. When I came to this time, my nose was bleeding once more, with a vengeance. I was also startled to find black and blue bruises and red marks all over my chest, as though some sort of energy was shot through me. They ache was like nothing I’ve felt… since Indra was pulling his influence away back before I left Mythguard…. I think that whoever this person is that I am seeing the hand of, that he is the on holding Guilliam. I think he may also be Pandross, in corporeal form once more. It would seem to be true, since I was asking about Pandross the first time. I believe that there may be some distinguishing marks on him even if I cannot see his face that could give us clues as to who he is. So far, the arms are bare. I do not know if they will continue to be so, If i continue to try seeing this as the month progress. December 16th 52,025 YD (From Metron Dragonsvalley) I have been working over several night on the question that you both had about the Centaurlands. The first thing I did was attempt to use Fortune Tell to find the safest… and separately, the fastest-- way to get to Guilliam (in case the safe way is not the fast way, or vice versa). I am still decoding the images from these two and will need at least a couple more days to sort them out. The next thing I did was so straight to Visions, my first question being “What are Pandross weaknesses?” There was darkness and silence at first, then a voice came to me as if from far away… in time as well as place, it was Thestra. I think, saying, “Look to the past to find the answers…” and then her voice faded away. The next thing I ask was, “How do we defeat Pandross?” I couldn’t put together what I was seeing at first… it seemed like a pugilistic area was below me, with an opponent in opposite end of the octagonal-shaped area, ropes were strung around it. The person on one side was a large man, muscular, beautiful in the face, he had a cleft chin and blond hair parted just so. He was grinning quite a bit. Seened.. Maybe too sure of himself. The man in the other corner had dusky skin, a hood and cloak, and a black mask on with a white question mark emblazoned into it. A bell rang and they left their corners… and started kicking the shyte out of each other. No matter what the blonde wonder did, he couldn’t keep the question-marked man down for long, most of the time he didn’t even effect him. Nothing keeps him down… nothing with fists at any rate. Maybe something else would have. The fight grows weary and tiresome, as neither party wants to give up-- as the images faded, they were still fighting. The next night, I continued… I asked, “What is Pandross?”-Something that I had been wondering. I could hear strange music as I faded into the Vision, sort of sing-songy, but out of a strange organ or piano. It was very odd. My view settled upon a money, it looked slightly unreal as I noticed string trailing from his limbs into the ebon sky. He was playing with a puppet that looked an awfully lot like Lyossa. The puppet-Lyossa is very badly put together hadn puplet. I could not see the other end of the string attached to the monkey. I then asked, “Where did Pandross come from?” The response was very similar to one on the first night-things went black and same voice answered. “Look to the past to find your answer…” If Thestra could sound annoyed through a time-displaced echo… she was accomplishing it very well. Since things had been going fairly decent and I had not been attacked yet thought the curse of divining, I continued the next night. My first quest was, “How did Pandross rise to power?” A spotlight turned on in my eyes, then moved away as I blinked in frustration-- as my view cleared, the hand-puppet of Lyossa was on the monkey’s hand still, waving a badly- stitched arm/hand at me. And lastly for this line of question. “Why are these Wraith in the Centaurlands?” I could see the marionette-monkey again, this time the light was focussing upon the string as they went higher into the black sky. The light seemed red this time, though. May 27th 52,025 YD (from Metron Dragonsvally) The evening before I arrived at [Dark Moon Waning], I received a Dream that I believe is concerning the Centaurlands, thought it was very cryptic. It was sunset, or sunrise. The sun was very low in the sky, behind a long figure, who was walking towards me. They were laughing steadily, constantly, almost mechanically, and did not stop until the dream ended abruptly. I could not make out of details of the figure at any point. Overnight between Saturday and Sunday, I was awakened during my sleep my a very sharp pain, all over. My body was so tense that I would not relax. This lasted for several minutes before slowing fading away. Through a fortune tell the next day, I found that there was a connection with this pain, the dream I had had, AND the fact that Guilliam was restored to his former self--Elven senses and all. And though a dreamcatcher, he looked like… himself. Where the previous night, he had looked like a badly-stitched together construct of some sort. On monday, I cast a Vision to see “How Guilliam had gotten restored between Saturday and Sunday?” I saw a waxing moon, in the twilight of very early morning. In the shade and shadows of trees. I saw two dark shapes… one seeming to be Guilliam, feeling that these two people had come together to talk about peace. I definitely heard Guilliam’s voice challenging the other to combat. And then they fought-- hard and for a long time. The clang of metal on metal and metal on flesh could be heard throughout. Finally, the other screamed, “Nnnnooo!” And I saw Guilliam walk out from under the tree, broken-looking, tired, sore, bruised, out-of-sorts… but also seeming as though his sense were back to “normal” for the first time in a very long time. As though he was a ware of himself more, and that he was alone in his head… Where there were once two minds, now there was one, and it was clearing… Then Guilliam faltered and fell to his knees and the Vision ended. I cast another to see “Why” he was restored, the meaning behind it. I saw nearly the same thing, except that there was an urgentness behind it. Time was precious. There was also the pressure to live up to someone’s expectation. Then there was giddiness when Guilliam apparently won… but I was a giddiness over deceiving someone. August 24th 52,025 YD Tuesday I slept fitfully at first last night, but then I fell into what I thought would be a dreamless sleep. Darkness surrounded me, but my sleep was interrupted by a small voice. “Hey psst. Over here!” it whispered insistently. My eyes seemed to be adjusting to the darkness a bit. The figure before me was small, dressed in shrouds and rags. It was wringing the edges of its sleeves, looking to and fro nervously. Whatever this being is doing, it isn’t supposed to be doing it. I thought. I could just barely start to make out its face as I recoiled slightly. Its face was formed of both flesh and shadow, and bizarre and unnatural conglomeration that I have only seen once before… in the Centaurlands. A Skinner! What does it want with me? I seemed to be compelled only to observe, though. I could not speak to the Skinner. It walked over to a small oaken chest. It looked up at me, “If this was your box, what would you fill it with, hmmm? Your hopes maybe, your dreams?” It ran a sleeve tenderly over the top of the chest. It had a smooth satin finish with the name “Kaefore” inscribed into the top of it as only a child can. It opened the lid and stepped back allowing me to see the last fearful moment of a boy’s life. The thundering of hooves came a me first. A stampede. The air was choked with smoke and flame. Calls from several around me of “Lyossa’s coming! Lyossa’s coming!” The screaming did not stop, nor should it have, as everyone was galloping frantically,seeking to escape that which there was none. My point of view was more chaotic than what was going on around me, It was as though I was being held by my mother, as a babe in her arms. And with a start, I realized, I was! A great furred beast was rampaging the street towards us, it looked to me as though it may have once been a werewolf, but no longer. Now it was something else, something other. It was a huge death machination as it loped towards us, slashing with it claws. I was dropped from my mother’s arms in time to see the thing rip her apart. Lyssa! Mother! Not again!! I found myself scream for her as the life gratefully faded from her eyes, her body broken. The beast looked over at me for a moment, seemed to consider whether to not to eat me, and just continued on down the street, destroying everything in its path. The blood of my people soaked the land. A new shadow came across me and I looked up. It was father! In his old soldier's armor from before he was named the leader of our people in Jarviksholme. I breathed a small sigh of relief until I realized that he was not not my father anymore...his flesh was decayed and hanging from his bones, his lips pulled back from his teeth permanently, and his eyes were completely dead. The glyph on the left side of his cheek had almost completely faded. He picked me up, tenderly, softly. I wondered if perhaps he was fighting whatever enchantment had tuned him like this as I felt a familiar pain through my chest, as I was run straight through on the sword that my father shill carried in his other hand. My vision blurred as everything seemed to slow, those last images impressed upon my mind as the lid of the chest snapped shut. I realized that I had been standing before it the whole time. My viewpoint started to pull back again. I was no longer stand on the ground but seemed to be hovering in the air, pulling further back from the Skinner and it chest. But now I could see that there were easily a thousand chest, all with different name inscribed on to their varying designs. More than a thousand. They were lain in some pattern that I could not discern… or maybe there wasn’t one? The Skinner waved his arm and all of the lids to all of the chest snapped open, spilling their contents forth. I was overcome by scream after scream after scream, an impossibly number of faces flashing before me, to fast to count, in various stages of death and dying. I was overcome by a sense of pain, rending, blood, rot, panic, insanity. As I nearly succumbed to it all, an impossibly-loud crack of thunder rolled across the landscape, such as it was, and all the lids of the chest shut once more. I could hear the Skinner again, even though I was so high up. I seemed to be pulled back further. All the boxes were gone, though, except for the first one, which the Skinner was caressing tenderly with his sleeved hands. “This is happening in a land far from you… people are suffering and dying, being killed off, assassinated, only to be re-born once more… why should you care, you ask? What if this is also YOUR future, and you know you could stop it, but didn’t lift a hand? And it’s coming your way…” I’m trying! I tried to yell to the Skinner as I awoke in my bed, in a room i have been given close to the stables of Chimeron Castle, covered in sweat. I then started scribing the dream down lest I forget it. August 29th 52,025 YD Excerpted from a missive to Ayuchi Kyomi & King Sir Pyr Darkwillow from Merton Dragonsvalley First, I cast some Fortune Tells: “Was my dream a call for help?” The casting seemed to indicate that those who send the dream did so out of frustration of some sort, so they decided to bestow this “gift” of information on me thought an act of catharsis and purging. This is probably something that has been bothered the sender for a long time, but only recently has the situation changed enough where they decided to actually send it. “Was my dream an outright attack?” |
Created by Janna Oakfellow-Pushee
at 01-18-22 00:52 AM
Last Modified by Janna Oakfellow-Pushee at 01-18-22 00:52 AM
Last Modified by Janna Oakfellow-Pushee at 01-18-22 00:52 AM