Author Archives: Rules Director

August 2017 Prologue

PrologueRumors and News

frum the jounall of lysanna “the swift blade” briarbrook

dear diary,

the school hall this week was very very hard. but after my exercises teacher told me that i am the best at letters and i might even be ready for upper-cays letters! he even told mummy and mummy was very proud!

she told me that she will do my chores for me to-day and to-morrow. i think that i will go back to where i saw the elfs and the nurth folks last week

i know mummy does not like it. when i told her, she told me to tell no-body and to never go back there. i had to do brendon and talli and gilben’s chores all by myself for a week straight. she was so mad!!!

but there are so many things going on and its so prety! i looked at it from far away but even then i could see it! they were working on a glowing gem, like in the stories!!!

tonite i am going to take a closer look! brendon is going to be looking for me, but i know he likes fianna from 1 farm over. she is going to talk to him while i make my trip. it is a long walk away so i am bringing nuts and this mornings crust to eat.

maybe, dear diary, this will be the furst of my adventures! may be i get to be a hero like the freefolk!

wish me luck!!!


lysanna briarbrook

lysanna “swiftblade” briarbrook

lysanna “swiftfoot” briarbrook

lysanna “the swift blade” briarbrook – use this!!! its so heroic!!


OOG: This is the only surviving scrap of a journal found in a burned down farmstead in the Hinterlands last week. It belonged to Yllana Briarbrook, a widowed Hinterland farmer with four children. There were no bodies found in the rubble. Mundane and magical divinations have also discovered nothing.

Rumor (anyone may read this)

Rumormonger or Guild Contract skill only
Hunter-gatherer skill only

July 2017 Prologue

PrologueRumor and Lore


The thousand year-old balete tree was not the tallest, but it was the widest. The lodge itself was built around it, woven with webbing and floored by mossy dirt. Tribal belief held that these ancient trees laired perilous spirits, and even to pass them required an apology and a swift retreat — but not many spirits were as dangerous as the Witch-King of the South.

The “door” were two leathery hides that parted when Kritek of the Thousand Teeth bowed his head to pass them, his jagged bone club in one hand. With his other hand, he dragged his prey over moss and dirt: a broken-necked man garbed in the jungle-colors of a hunter… or a spy.  The lodge was immediately lit with dozens of skull lamps that burned with magicked flame and heady incense. No two skulls were the same, from the fanged skull of a Troll, to a beaked skull of a Birdkin or a Kha-holed skull of a Gnome. Like a Sanctum spell, the illuminating magics within these macabre trophies only activated in the Witch-King’s presence, flaring to life from where they hung or whatever shelf or table they perched and burning only what was inside the lamp.

He carried the body to the central room of his lodged, wrought right beneath the tree’s heart, and encaged by exactly one-hundred and one gnarled and rune-etched trunks. Five fire-scarred skull-lamps hung above a circle of branches and rope, each was tied to a runed stone – a Witch’s “focus”. After the corpse was slammed unceremoniously inside the circle, Kritek’s claws expertly opened the man with the dispassion of a butcher.

At the Troll Witch’s belt was a skull and its crimson glow flared as organs and entrails were devoured or arranged according to an occult order. One by one, the hanging skull-lamps in the ritual room took on the same hue. The corpse began to whisper, a low croaking, breathless sound as the divination rite reached completion.

“Quiet.” Kritek of the Thousand Teeth spoke for the first time in hours. The hunt took most of what passed for afternoon in the web-infested Nightlands, but the effort in catching this prey was as much part of the rite as the evisceration. “The sacrifice has been made. The gift has been given. What do you see?”

The corpse’s silence was filled instead with a voice that echoed from each skull, originating from the one hanging from his belt – Sammael, World-Lock of the South and a gate between Midworld and the Aether.

The words were solemnly spoken by six burning voices. “It will be fought in Freehold and the battle will be glorious. Many will be the deaths and the skulls that are taken”

Kritek chuckled. “Liar”

“The Western World-Lock will return to Anubisath of the North or stay with Valtherion, the Prince of Thorns. If unchecked, the west will fall and the veil between Midworld and the Aether will be ripped apart by Valtherion’s Sundering Tree”

“Liar” Kritek grew less amused.

“Anubisath of the North controls two World-Locks. Gabriella of the East controls a World-Lock and consumes a powerful Aethereal for power” Sammael continued. “Both, individually, bear more strength and experience than you do. They will crush an insect like you if you let them”

Kritek of the South did not protest this time. He knew that the World-Lock’s divinations were in half-truths, but that meant it bore the truth – however painful. Life was multitude of pain among the Grellken. And among the Labyrithium, enduring and causing pain was the only true path to power.

He left word of his impending departure to his underlings, the various non-faithful covens and cabals within the Qabbalim.

The Witches and the Sorcerers of the Qabbalim backed Kritek because they feared the Vigil faiths. The Qabbalim supported him because they feared the King-slayer and the League. In these dire times, the Kingdoms of Midworld needed to lend him their aid due to the threat of Anubisath and Valtherion… and perhaps even Gabriella.

It was several days and many sacrifices later that the Rite of Transposition took him to the Hinterlands. He sensed an Elemental Wellspring nearby, its energies calling to his hunger. The Witch-King allowed himself a grin.

It might not be this moon or this year, but time will come that Midworld would fear Kritek.

Rumor (anyone may read this)
Lore-keeper skill only

June Prologue 2017

PrologueNews and Rumors


“Yes. Let me see”

At his command, the Carrionettes stepped away and their clay limbs clicked with each movement. They faded from the circle of bloody masks on the ground and waited lifelessly in the tree-line. Valtherion did not have the dead eyes and the clay hearts of the puppet-like creatures, but looking upon the macabre trophies did not gladden him. After all, there was little and less left in him when the Face-takers were done – only the burning ember of spite and the grim contentment that others had suffered.

It was not enough. It would never be enough.

Behind him, the Sundering Tree’s branches reached into the heavens. After long years, it was able now to tear into Midworld at Valtherion’s twisted will.

“The Witch-King is pleased with your work, Valtherion!” From beneath its shadow emerged a Birdkin, dressed in Gotterdammerung garments and clapping slowly as it trespassed into his domain, into his throne.

Valtherion turned his masked gaze toward the Beastling, his crown of thorns and flowers moving in tune with his movements. “What I do is not for the Witch-King, Horusath. I do this for my own cause, for my own crusade!”

The Birdkin was cautious and strode carefully around the circle of masks on the ground. From the edges of the treeline around the grove, Carrionettes watched him with dead, glossy eyes.

“The Witch-King has given you the means of your vengeance. He has given you power and the protection of a World-Lock. He has even given you leave to continue your work – instead of utterly enslaving your will. I would not be so quick to disregard his pleasure”

Horusath bent to pick a discarded favor from the muddy ground. “A Callasine favor? Do you treat with your Kingdom still? Is there something you need to tell the Witch-King of the North?”

Valtherion laughed mirthlessly. “Death-Priests of the Silver Kingdom, sent to strike me down. My former home and my liege means as much to me as this bloody mud. And at the fullness of my strength, I mean to tread upon them in the same fashion. Even the Queen of Stars will fall to the Facetakers when the Sundering Tree rends the veil between Midworld and the Aether”

“That is good” Horusath nodded his beak, looking this way and that to take the scene in. “You were Envoy for them long ago after all… just as you were once an ally to Freehold. I will remind you now that it would be unwise for you to forsake your current allegiances for your past ones.”

“They failed me after I had sacrificed so much for them” The self-style Prince of Thorns had no laughter this time, only seething spite. “They can seek me out all they like, but they will not find me or my Tree so easily. The waves of Facetakers and Carrionettes will be as an unending river – and eventually they will drown in it. Their souls will adorn the Forest of Faces.”

“Ensure that this occurs. Anubisath has little love for Freehold and less love for failure” Horusath made his way to the Sundering Tree and faded away from beneath its boughs.

How the Witch-King and his minons made easy use of the Aether and of his own creation galled him. But there were other grudges to nurse, and vengeances to be quenched.

The Carrionettes moved to allow a trio of Face-takers into the grove. They were gigantic creatures, seemingly wrought of shadows and hunger and all wearing the faces of those they had hunted. The torment of a hundred souls were stitched upon their garments – and they would only ever want more.

Valtherion shivered even now when he saw them so hungry. His fingers traced the outline of his mask, then reached inside to claw at the shattered remains behind it.

Soon, Midworld and the Aether will be joined and all will share in my glorious torment

Rumor (anyone may read this)
Lore-keeper skill only
Callas Selvarion or Rumormonger skill
Fir’bolg or Rumormonger skill
Gotterdammerung or Rumormonger skill
Ixia or Rumormonger skill
Jotunbrud or Rumormonger skill
Kali-Ishtar or Rumormonger skill only
Labyrinthium or Rumormonger skill only
Malak Travak or Rumormonger skill only
Pendrakken or Rumormonger skill only
Riverfolk or Rumormonger skill only