3. The Countenance of Lady Aspera Chillwind...

The Countenance of Lady Aspera Chillwind...


  • Aspera's deep eyes looked upon the poem, a single crystal tear falling from her eye before shattering in a halo of shards as it struck the oak table. Her mind, more than ever, was filled with a thousand thoughts and a thousand fears. She pushed the poem away, for the words of an aging sage would not distract her. She wrung her fist tightly, angrily, as the wind might choak the clouds.

    These were no words to be forgotten. She could not forget her father's final breath. The pain that lingered in the very seat of her heart was as a searing bolt of agony. Why had this curse afflicted her house that mere humanity should slay her brother? Why had this curse seen her father slain and his broken frame shattered by a thousand flames, and his city crushed? With a tiny, nigh inaudble sigh, she threw herself down upon her desk, bitter tears burning from her eyes.

    How could he love Alannia instead of her? Snatching up a crystal goblet from the table, she cast it against the wall with such force that it smashed into a thousand tiny pieces. She had seen his eyes… it could only be so. In her soul, she burned, the flame of love gutter for a moment, as the flames licked higher in her soul. The ghostly face of her father flashed through her mind again and again. His words, his final verse chanting in mantra again and again.

    Mrel'eril had to love her! He had to! I would that I could forget she spoke. I would that it could all end. That the fires of Tor Thanan's blackened carcass could fade from her mind. Though the city was her, and it was her body that had been blackened, burned, humiliated.

    The Gem... yes, she needed the Gem if only to prove to herself, no, to the world that the Spirit of Tor Thanan has endured, and by its power, she would see it made whole again. Clutching her papers in a tight fist, bound with a will of iron, she desparately fought to cast aside the daemons of her mind.

    The images of the pyre on which her kin had been conflagrated, the body of her father as he choked out a final reverie, the towers laid waste, the eyes of a lover for another… Grief, love, loss, revenge all boiled into a single emotion. The tight knot in her chest, untied and burst forth, leaving a gaping hole. A sword of agony had been thrust though her chest and heart, and she had no hope to parry the blow as it struck with viceral anger, again and again and again.

    Auril would be no aid to her now... no, she followed the Snow Queen for it was her duty to revere the cold though she had no love in her heart for that divine entitity. As dreams, hopes and truths swam in her mind, a single name seemed to bleed into an image of such clarity that for the moment it seemed to blot out all of her hurt and loss...

    In a voice of quiet calm, she spoke out a single word.

    Shar…


  • This poem was written abscently alongside her entries into her journals. It was written with a certain melancholy that almost leaps across the page

    Borne up on wings of carmine, crimson, blue
    Each feather, delicate, aglow with fire
    As with the fragile elven race she grew
    Out of the ashes of her funeral pyre

    And blazing high atop a raging bower
    She shackled the earth in fetters forged of steel
    Wood, water, stone were worth nought for her power
    T'was she who caused the wound that will not heal.

    The fires grew cold, now the lustre had fled
    Her tired wings, once roaring with true light
    Sputtered and died; it seemed she would be dead
    She embraced the flames; she did not try to fight

    The phoenix sang her death song to the summer breeze:
    Dum spiro spero: I hope while yet I breathe


  • Aspera flicks through her papers abscently, searching in vain for a single drop of information upon the Gem that she may have overlooked. She sighs and take a small sip from a tiny crystal goblet. With calm grace, she places the green journal of her studies back upon its lectern. In a single fluid movement, she returns to the desk.

    Green eyes flicker in the candlelight as she looks over her letters, each written in a hand most familiar to her. For it was her practice to keep and copy each and every letter sent, for it is wise action for those involved in politics…

    .....This letter is written upon fine paper that is scented faintly of lavender and written with a beautiful and authorotative hand, the quill-strokes sweeping with some confidence across the page. It is delivered by courier to the offices of the militia.

    Unto the Captain of the Norwick Militia,

    I, the Lady Aspera Chillwind wish to lodge a formal complaint with your person upon the actions of one one of your members - one Philomena Sureshot.

    As a citizen of Peltarch, my station is afforded certain rights, and as such, feel that I have been violated legally by your miltia member. I draw reference to my period of imprisonment pending questioning upon the alledged poisoning of Rith Phoenixfeather.

    Upon the halfling's female's order to place myself within the confines of the Norwick Jail, I complied. Upon the halfling female's questions, I answer and complied. Upon observing her condition and upon hearing her need of aid in this unfortunate matter, I complied.

    As such, it can only be considered insult to have the miltia member bringing disrepute upon her station by suggesting in a verbose manner, and I quote, "that she thinks I did it anyway". Moreoever, the halfling female then held me in the cell without the basic demands of light and air for a period commanding a week. During this lengthy duration, I received no notification of what was occuring, nor any contact with the ministry of such matters in Peltarch.

    The fact then, that I was proved innocent and yet the halfling still offered no appology for her own and culpable misuse of power and illtreatment of my personage. For this reason, it is my desire to lodge a complaint, in writing, concerning the actions of the halfling female. I should, therefore, also let you know, that a copy of this letter has been sent to the offices in Peltarch that it be noted among their records and thus cannot be ignored should this letter be misplaced or destroyed.

    With deepest regards,

    • Lady Aspera Chillwind.......

    ....She smiles, for in her heart she knows that this letter would likely be destroyed upon sight by the first mindless dwarf that chanced across it. Perhaps they will listen once she sends it each week to them....

    .....This note is enchanted to appear to any person of purity to be a simple list of supplies required by the people of Norwick, deeply mundane and not worth a second's notice. However, to those who's hearts know blackness, its true image is revealled

    To all those who's hearts are led by coin, here listen.

    The Paladin Alannia Diams has outlived her usefulness in this town. The Hand has grown weary of her constant protestations and commandments and would see her removed. Those who are willing to undertake such a job then simply add your names unto this list here and you will be contacted. Have no fear that you will be uncovered, for it was warded beyond the skills of the foes.

    There shall be rewards as befits the task. For this is a bloody business.

    With deepest regards...

    signed with the image of a hand clasping the moon in its fingers...

    ....A frown knits Aspera's brow and the image of Alannia smiling, laughing, leering at her is burned into her mind. Her fingers tighten, willowy pale as the silver birch. Anger flares in her mind at the thought of this ugly and brutish creature, this cheap and common drab who would dare insult her! Placing the letter down, Aspera breaths, as if releasing the tensions that had nigh exploded within in. Soon it would be her time, for is Tassabra wished her secret meetings with that creature Anabelle to remain so, she would assuredly oblige....

    To whom it may concern,

    I, the Lady Aspera Chillwind, resident citizen of Peltarch wish to report an action that I consider a breach of etiquet, hygene and of the laws of Peltarch. As I strolled through the south western area of our fair city, I chanced upon three individuals who were clearly only visiting, holding no papers of citizenship. The individuals were an elf female dressed in green leathers, a dwarf in brown maille and a half-orc.

    As I passed their position, I witnessed them strip off and bathe in the waterway crossing over the gates of entry to our city. Not only did I find this fact tasteless and insulting, their reaction when I demanded to know their names was to insult my personage in a manner that is quiite unbeffiting.

    Moreover, the fact that these visitors dared to do so requires instant action by the guard to maintain the standard that Peltarch is known for. Therefore I demand that all that can be done to reprimand these individuals for breach of the law in the counts of 1.18, 1.20 and 1.26.

    Regards,

    Lady Aspera Chillwind

    Worthy gentleman,

    You have my personal gratitude for the attention you deliver unto my complaint. You are indeed to be commended upon not only the thorough nature of your practice, but also your search for justice in this matter. Should I witness such a blatant flaunting of the laws of Peltarch by similiar or other individuals, then I shall of course be employing the forces of the Guards of the City in order to maintain the very order of the populace and the sanitory nature of our water ways.

    I would, however, also suggest further sanctions upon those beasts spawned of orcish blood. As such, might I request nofitication of the current policy of the city upon these social deviants that I might better guage my actions and follow the laws of the city, as set down by the Senate and enforced by their magistrates and guards.

    With deepest regards,

    Lady Aspera Chillwind

    ... A smile smirk crosses her full red lips as she glances over the magistrates replies, and her recollections of her discussion with him but a few days passed. How swiftly he had agreed to her policy that would starve Norwick, how joyfully he accepted her gift of a staff...

    Yes things go well in Peltarch... most well indeed...


  • ::notes in jotter:: smite scotsman


  • We return to her normal journal, there is a playful, happy twirl to her writing upon this entry.

    So it was, that in this world and in this place, all fell silent for a single moment.

    Silence.

    So it was, than in this world and in this place, all things fell still save for the singular beating of twin hearts.

    Stillness.

    So it was, that in this world and in this place, lips touched in a single loving caress. The soft sweetness of his lips upon mine. The warm shield of his arm holding me to him.

    Love.

    Could this be that I have fallen, my heart in hiding revealed in all its glorious radiance, in all its love and its tears? Could it be that this is ?

    Oh pride, plume, valour and act here buckle! A dawn has melted the chill within me, for there is truly the sun amid my sky. Is the tongue that speaks of M'releril, bathed in the warm incandescence of elven energies has shown me something which I have felt not in my years upon this face of the earth?

    A touch of the hand can mean more than a thousand kisses…


  • A large tome sits upon a carved lectern, crafted of a white stone, remenicent of marble. The book is bound with gold and inlaid with images of leaves, coiled about it with the faint tracing of the image of a gem, clasped in twin hands embroidered upon its front. The book is large, though surprisingly light, and enfused with the scent of a thousand wild flowers that wafts over you as you turn the page. Upon the size of this grimore, several lines are written in an elven dialect, reading 'the Gem of Life'. As the pages are opened, you observe that the first few pages have been copied out of Aspera's last journal entry in an immaculate golden ink that seems to dance across the page before your eyes.

    ….

    Sec. 4 The Search for the Gem of Life

    Returning to Norwick yester eve, I examined the pages and books with the library of Spellweaver Keep in search for information pertaining to this elven artefact. Examination revealled that books upon it were exceedingly sparse, the only one mentioning it specifically being 'Elven Artefacts of Prostigeous and Unknown Energies' by Iltor'ithil Tarilvar, which is allready in my posession.

    Due to lack of conclusive evidence upon the qualities and powers of this item, the research upon this matter will have to wait until I can pinpoint its location and acquire it. Unto this end, the library at Spellweaver was much more compelling with several texts upon scrying and divination. It is my understanding, however, that there is a member of the Keep who specialises in such magics and as such, I shall attempt to seek out her aid in this matter.

    Worthy of note, however, is another avenue of the powers of far-seeing. It has come to my attention that a woman by the name of Katya in the Gypsie Camp to the west is known for her abilities in this field. Upon this knowledge, I journeyed to the Camp in order to discuss this matter with her. However, it transpired that the lady was unwell and thus was unable to discuss with me this most pressing item of research….


  • Oh but that is only because it is all true…

  • ?

    agreed. the depth is scaring me… :twisted:

  • ?

    Damn.

    Astoundingly deep character you have here, Al.


  • This journal entry is some time after those before. Her writing is attractive, though has a somewhat scientific curve to it, as if she was writing a thesis upon the nature of enchantment and not in her diary. Beside her text are numerous small notes and images of a Gem, drawn from every angle and annotated in elven

    And so I come to think upon the Gem of Life… of all the treasures of my house, lost in flame and rage, this is the most grievous blow to my pride, my heart. The flowers of my race lay broken, our halls burns and our artworks SMASHED!

    And I was not there to stop it! Mayhap if I had been there, the fell drake of fiery countenance would not have smote us so deeply, nor the tears of our folk bled so. The humans … for had they not befouled my brother then I would have been their. Had they had civilisation and decorum, Tor Thanan may still stand, existing through the eons and I would not find myself, plotting the downfall of these barbarians.

    There are a few lines left blank, as if Aspera was collecting thoughts and regaining her serenity

    Words, the last breath of my father spoke of the Gem of Life. Its existance is bound to my line, and in my soul I feel that somewhere in the realms it still lingers. The properites of this Gem remain trapped in the depths of lore, however, its history was written in the annals of my house that I retain still among my most treasured possessions. For it is these which show the very essence of what was, and what shall be again.

    Sec.1 Appearance of the Gem of Life.

    The Gem of Life took on the appearance to the mundane eye of a great emerald, multi-faceted in its crafting and with a faint luminescent quality. Whether this light source was enfused magically into the gem or latent from its carving cannot be said, however. Upon the eight faces that make up its sides, four are carved with intricate elven runes. It was held within the great tower of the Citadel, grasped in a pair of twin hand crafted of silver and blessed by the priests of the Seldarine. One of a man, the other of a woman.

    Sec.2 History of the Gem of Life.

    The Gem of Life was crafted thousands of years in the past, as such that even the long-lived memories of our elven libraries cannot discern nor divine its crafter. It was known across the realms of our most glorious people for its beauty, but also for its mysterious energies.

    It was written first as being contained within Evermeet in the possession of my ancient ancestor Belanaer Chillwind. He shared my inner flame, and was given the Gem by the people for it was judged that he could maintain its purity of purpose and control it. This scholar retained possession of the item when he left Evermeet, his reasons for doing so are, however, lost in the mists of times.

    It was he, the Lord Belanaer, who travelled unto the spine of the world and upon the rock of the mountain, carved the Citadel that was to be Tor Thanan. Thus it was, with his complete mastery of the Gem of Life, that he was able to cast up the marble walls with ease and shrouded the realm in a mask of illusion so complex that no single mage could ever hope to unravel its weaves. Thus it was that the Gem of Life was to adopt its place in the very pinacle of the Citadel in the Chamber of Life.

    Many years passed and Belanaer left the realms for he was older than the trees and had weathered more than the rocks on which our Citadel shone. So it was his son, Cer'ilthan Chillwind who led the council of our people are took upon himself the mantle of Guardian of the Gem of Life. Yet the legacy of the Gem's power was to fall upon the most fell and vile ears of all: that of the drow.

    Like a vile swarm, the forces of the most depraved Queen of Spiders spilled from the Underdark, blades drawn and shields held tall in the name of war. The Darkness would never prevail over us, and as they fell upon our citadel, they were cast back. Thus as the wind buffets the storms, so we held high in our city, arrows and spells crackling in the air as they sought to breach the walls of force erected by Belanaer.

    Though they are cunning, and it was through this that they stole that which was most precious to us: the life of Cer'ilthan and the Gem that was the very essence of my people. History recalls that a poison blade of vilest cruelty was thrust into his chest, the toxins taking hold and the agonies of his passing audible.

    So it was that the Chamber of Life was empty, and the purity of our line undone by its loss. Though these assassins made a single mistake that was to cost them. For the power of the Gem was not contained solely within its own contruct, but additionally in the hands which clasped it. In their greed and avarice, the drow cast aside this item of beauty, seizing the Gem alone. Though this was no great ointment, for the loss was keen, and the sickness we felt as the creatures of the Underdark handled it was acute.

    Thus the title of High Loremaster fell to Cer'ilthan's brother, for he had no sons. Melanar Chillwind wrote in his tomes that his spirit itself seemed to contort in his frame as the Gem was in the possession of the drow, for it had been bound to our bloodline by the power of Belanaer. Reaching out with eyes of the weave, a grat convocation of wizards was called that the source of the Gem may be divined.

    Enacting the rites, their power enriched by the Seldarine cast aside the work of Lloth, and the truth of the vision, as horrific as it was, burned forever upon the conciousness of our people. For the drow had taken this Gem, dedicated to Life, and anointed it with the blood of 10 noble elves in the name of their foul god, capturing their souls within it for all eternity. The heart of this vile fallacy was a Priestess of this Goddess, and it was she who befouled our enchantment. Her name was lost to history, though unto our people she was known only as 'An orias-cython'e'yenlui' or the Red-Serpent of Chaos in the human tongue.

    Driving out with their wills, the High Loremaster sought to wrest control of the Gem from the possession of the Drow. Though the distance was too great and her power too potent for his strength to prevail. So it was, that in his guilt, he took it upon himself to regain the power of our people, and the lost honour of his brother. Garbing himself in the gear of war, he walked from the City Gates alone, his robes flapping in the ethereal breeze. This was to be known to our people as the Day of a Thousand Tears, for it is said that all the elves wept upon this passing.

    Little is known of what transpired in the depths of the underdark, for Melanar had not life long enough to explain its details. For it was several years until he returned to us. His spirit broken and mind shattered, he materialised in the Chamber of Life, his eyes live with energy and his body ignited in wreaths of flame. All who were there had to look away for the radiance was too great. Striding forward, he returned the Gem to the place from which it had long been absent. Yet, this was not enough. The flames licked higher and his spirit itself began to be destroyed in this mysertious conflagration. It was in this moment, that it ended. Melanar was gone. Scholars have argued over what occured, though it is my hypothesis that Melanar's pure elven spirit was needed to re-bless the gem, his was the price that all that was symbolic of the Children of Belanaer be returned.

    It was from this time unto the destruction of the Citadel that the Gem maintained its quiet energies, symbolising the nature and freedom of my people and their hearts. To this day, however, it has been lost to all eyes.

    Sec.3 Properties of the Gem of Life.

    During its time in the possesion of the High Loremasters of Tor Thanan, the Gem manifested several properties depending upon the individual who had the use of it. This is well documented, and each relationship with it collected in journals and grimoires. Its intent in creation was to be a symbol of the elven race by holding the essence of that which is elven within its heart - using the eternal spirit of our people and harnessing it to defend and grow.

    It was through manipulation of this property that the hated foe managed to pervert this. For the Priestess, instead of binding only the willing and using their souls in the eternal pursuit of that which is good, she managed to compell the souls into the gem, and forced them to do her bidding. In this case, it is likely that the Gem would extend her life overlong, beyond that of the longest elven span.

    Under the power of Belanaer, for example, the Gem of Life had tremendous abilities which can only be aspired to in these days. However, under the use of Cer'ilthan, the Gem was unreactive and cold, barely granting him any energies at all. It was hypothesised at the time that perhaps the potency of the enchantment had begun to fade and that the weave had begun to unravel. However, my father, Aethedril had a great grasp of the Gem's powers and he was but one generation away from myself. It can only be suggested that there is still some latent sentience within the Gem itself which actively chooses who to grant its powers to.

    If, however, one was to consider what the 'average' effect of the Gem was upon a mage, then one would consider the High Loremaster Cireon'al of five generations past. He was able to make use of the Gem to power spells in order to heal those of elven blood in pain, to grant his spells special direction of purpose and power. However, its effects are often so subtle they are rarely perceptible, it is only when the Gem decrees that there is any great powers released from it. And when released, these powers cannot be matched by many forces in the realms.

    Another, interesting property is that the Gem makes the divinations of the wielder far more acute and clear. This property, is however, attatched to the hands clasping the gem, and was the reason, in my opinion, that Melanar was able to discover the location of this Gem through the will of a Godess.

    There was however, a book written in and retained by each High Loremaster upon the true properties of this Gem. It was written that only he or she may see its true nature and have the knowledge of its true energies. Thus the information presented here is mere conjecture based upon eye-witness accounts and entries in journals.

    If any deeper reasearch is going to be carried out, this book must be found. Perhaps with its acquistion the location of these items would become clearer.

    • Lady Aspera Chillwind

  • This section of the journal has been ingraved in words in an ancient elven dialect that is quite unfamiliar. It seems to be written as a poem, the words having a strange rhythmn to them that mirrors that of the rain as it falls.

    _Ilan cynas niran arhain
    An orias-cython'e'yenlui aen sariourach
    Elama sariour, elama urithair
    Asur aen quylur-Isha
    Asur aen daroirur sal lecai

    Aiáan cynath niraia sal oriour
    An orias-cython aen elaiach harathoi
    Asach aen eluiach cynath en yama-shae
    Athan asur aen daroirur

    Calad-Cythonai aen charoiach an darain thal Thanan
    An ceyl éan Tor Léas
    Athan orias-cython aen quylach-Isha
    En sach aen daroi lacoi il sariour'e'druchoi
    Nir su cai aen daroi aen thananach il arhain

    An darain'e'oriour aen daroirach cynath
    Asor aen thylor enan yenthai éan asur
    Nir Cythonai Melanar, Calad'e'Thanan aen elathach
    Il harathain'e'ithilaslor, an lacoi éan asur aen senthaiach_

    In the darkness and the night,
    The red serpent of Chaos enchanted,
    Ten evil deeds, ten innocents sacrificed
    We mourned for our lost children
    We remembered their noble souls

    By the dead and by their blood
    The red serpent received boundless energy
    He denied death for 500 years
    Yet the elves remembered.

    The High Loremaster smote the Gem from Thanan
    The blade of the White Tower drew blood
    Yet the Red Serpent endured
    For he was mighty in magic of evil
    And his soul was hidden in shadow

    The Gem of Life was lonely
    It cried for the touch of the elves
    And Loremaster Melanar, Prince of Thanan, answered
    In ships of silverwood, the might of the elves flew…


  • Once more I come to write in you my journal, and much has transpired since our last meeting.

    Danger seems to grow, yet the victories come closer also. The paladins are swiftly going to pay for the manner in which they humiliated me! Each action and each time that I speak to Kanen, I see that he has not evolved beyond the whelp who whimpered as I slaughtered Alannia upon the field. I see that he is still a weak and brash fool with all the mental dexterity of slug.

    However, I shall return to the events as they unfold before me in this place. Spellweaver Keep is a most glorious place. Its walls, its scrolls, its libraries…never have I felt so at home and yet so sad. The smell of the binding upon the books, the ink upon the pages, the brimstone from a thousand magical texts all brings my father into my mind. I can still see his face, pained and broken as he lay upon the ruins of our lost city. My father was a powerful man, and yet he fell.

    Aethedril Chillwind, Lord of Tor Thanan would have crushed Alannia or Kanen with a single wave of his hand, they would stand no chance against his might. Not foe could harm his daughter. His Winter Rose, that is what he had called me...

    I can still remember when, upon one cold summer day, the sun's light illuminating Auril's gifts with a beauty that cannot be captured in any poem or verse. As we walked up the sides of the mountain, leaping from rock to rock, how we laughed and smiled then. We were elven and we were free. No more. How can these humans understand? They cannot, and I would never suffer them to. They shall not touch the heart of this Winter Rose.

    Though there is one who might. Each time that I see Meril, my heart, it leaps and the chill inside melts, for not even Auril can contain my inner flame! He is elven and he is open unto me. He has not become as the others of my folk in these lands who bring shame to our people.

    Meril looks much like my father did. The manner. The expression.

    Could he understand my need for revenge? For he is friends with these paladins who would mock and accuse me, who would ignore and shun me! He does not recoil from me as the others do...

    Chaelvin is a half-breed, though he seems to have overcome his weak human blood for the better. However, even he seemed easily drawn in by my manner and words. Retrieving the scroll of flame was a simple enough task, soon I shall be part of the Keep of Spellweavers and will have access to the vast libraries. I can almost sense the secrets that linger, just under the surface of this Citadel.

    Lathander - how I despise that god! His vile dawn comes and cracks the works of the Goddess, he actively inspires base creatures to aim further than they could ever hope to strive. Though for some of the worshipers of morning, I doubt the dawn shall find them well. It seemed that my presence had an effect upon one of these human fools, for she grew quite cold. This is but proof that Auril is the goddess of power. Her might will soon fill these lands. For winter is coming.

    Cila is not at all what I expected. I, to my shame, misjudged her utterly. For my assumption that any woman who would curry the favour of one such as Kanen would be a simple and submissive fool, a weakling. Yet this is not as it appears to be. She approached me! A bold action indeed for it would have been quite simple for me to inform Kanen of her words. It seems that she seduced him for Vinessa - my how the old witches machinations still linger in this place of base humanity! Moreoever, the bard expressed concern that she was not gaining enough power from her association with dear Kanen.

    I managed to encourage the girl into allowing me to cast a geas upon her, compelling her to do my will, and also never to speak of what transpired between us. It is clear that this girl, whatever else she is, is a fool. I know of no intelligent creature who would submit so willingly to becoming a slave. However, she does have a use to me.

    For her every action, every breath is baited upon by Kanen. As she is dominated by my magic, so he is by hers. I have seen lap dogs who are more rebellious than he was when in her presence. She may indeed be the tool by which we bring the downfall of Kanen Hightower. She is clearly greedy for any power. Transient, though she will not see it ere she dies. She may live on provided she maintains her usefulness. Though her death may indeed be neccessary in time.

    Alannia still walks the realms, though my letter has received some…interesting replies. I chanced upon one of them this very day as I searched for more fireflowers in the Nars Pass. A brute of a man, he may be useful to be in this matter...

    How I plot and scheme, it seems so petty.... though I will see these paladins suffer by any way I can! Nobody dares to insult the pride of the House of Chillwind! Nevermore will any amongst my peoples falter and die in the fires of human destruction! Never!


  • This journal page is written in her usual manner: beautiful, floral writing, showing confidence, serenity and control.

    Upon this day I met the 'lovely' Cila I have heard so much of. I can see why she has taken the fancy of Kanen, but then he always did seem to make moves upon the plain human girls.

    It was she who approached me as I searched the Nars Pass in search of some herbs… a strange confidence for one who seems so weak. It was not just her aura, she is clearly emotionally weak and hangs upon Kanen like some common whore. Though she did betray one thought - she spoke that Kanen is hers and that she has some hold over him. From the impression I got of her, this milksop wench has quite enchanted the Paladin.

    He is strong, yet it becomes all the clearer that she is the chink in his emotional maille and that is where we shall strike to do the most harm.

    May he feel the pain of her loss more keenly than my own. Perhaps we shall entice grief from this stony creature of the gods.

    Yet how should it be done? Should I take it upon myself? it is perhaps a wise course of action, though a disguise is neccesary.... a helm and a cloak that none may see my true face. We shall have to catch her alone... It will have to be planned closely...

    • Lady Aspera Chillwind

  • …This journal entry is dated more recently, from the past week in fact. It is odd how her writing so subtly changes depending on her moods. If you had to guess, you would suggest she is feeling confident, the curve on her letters is more pronounced, and yet the slight jaggedness in places seems to betray fear...

    So it comes back to this…I once again languish in Norwick and I cannot fathom why I still linger here. Why do I submit myself to the ways of these lesser creatures and be forced to suffer the presence of such travesties as half-orcs? In al other lands, I saw these monsters shunned, for they are what they seem - tainted and blackened barbarians.

    Why then is this place a haven for their sort? It seems to lack any sort of logic to my mind - though that is unsurprising, these humans think and take action in a most base and simplistic fashion. Though surely the marauding orcs that ride the land but a few leagues from Norwick's gates would drive the people to fear these half-breeds?

    It was but yesterday that one of these monsters actually had the audacity first to address me and then to threaten me with bodily harm… It appears they are mindless also... Perhaps it is time to turn Norwick against such creatures and make use of their dull wits...

    I cannot help but question what occured with that human paladin Sarah and Kanen... I know he still walks and as does she, though her malady seems to have advanced somewhat. She smiles with the cold eyes of a killer and slays much that her very sword weeps blood. To discredit those who oppose you is a wise move, force is not always neccesary. Rumours are growing of the paladins, not least of them from mine own silvered tongue. They made a mockery of me and I, for my shame let is happen. Never again will I fall in with such fools. They will pay in what ever way I can make them for their actions.

    There are worse things than death....


  • A fresh page has been taken in the diary, her script ever curving and delicate, though this entry written with a certain vicious twist.

    The field is stained with her spirit! Her blood wept and the tears of her friends fell as easily as her essence. It was perhaps, almost too easy for me to deal with one such as she - an overzealous cretin with a bloodlust quite barbaric.

    How deeply human of her.

    She charged me with a prayer to her god upon her lips, believing that his name could somehow save her from one of the Chillwinds? Nay, there has not been a foe in many generations who has bested one of my family in such a trial of honour. It was not my intention to slay her, though it worries me that the source of the enchantments could be divined back to me. The spellwalls I erected must have been breached somehow. I must be vigilant for I sense there will be reprocussions from this duel.

    Though, the glory of my name and my family have been upheld, I know my father would have been proud of my skill with the arts of magic and its direction in this matter. For it is not my body strewn in pieces across the gory field.

    Though ironically, it is not that of Alannia either. As she was cast down from her pillar of greatness, I reached out to seize the very essence of her being, for it was forfeit for her blatant assault upon my person! She deserved the agony of destruction! Yet as the weave of my enchantment seized about her form, ready to rent her into the very atoms of her being, I felt a force cast back my grasp. It was unlike any resistance…I felt...weak and in the midst of the glory of victory, the prize was snatched away.

    I told the fool Kanen that I knew where she was, what a krass oaf he truly is, typically human. He actually seeks to threaten me even as his friend's ichors still dye the daisies crimson. In time perhaps, we shall teach him a lesson...

    Lady Aspera Chillwind


  • The pages of the journal once more swim into vision, the artful caligraphy of the words written across the parchment in a beauty comparible to Aspera's own

    Finally, the time has come and I will shortly be welcomed into the circle…soon I shall be part of it all. She speaks of a quest that I must complete in order to prove both my ability and intent... I know not what it is, though my heart tells me that it may not be as simple as I may hope... it is not some foolish servant's job from Fine...

    It is strange...but yesterday I was speaking to that bard Meril...an odd man indeed with an odd effect on me. It is not often I tell the tales of my people and of Tor Thanan, yet I did so freely to him...part of me, I think, wanted to tell someone. Perhaps it is that I wish for my people's legacy to live on, perhaps that is it and not my own vanity...

    Yet a stranger thing occured, for this day I felt the cold hand of death on my shoulder, and my soul was ripped free. It is typical of my luck that I would stand where Vinessa's fireball struck. I remember the flames licking a merry dance across my body, pain raging through every nerve. It was...not pleasant...

    And then nothing, I felt suddenly without weight, much was taken and much given...I could feel people's minds more acutely, though I could see only through a glass darkly, surrounded by eternal silence of a forest. Some would call it paradice, yet it left me only with a horrific sense of limbo and of life wasted...It was not my time.

    And then, suddenly as I had fallen, the hand of the diving wrestled me back to the material plane. I could feel the goodness of it, I could feel the priest Rashid...

    I do not know, but as his spell touched my scortched body, I felt a shadow pass over me, a judgement perhaps? Who can tell what it was, I know only that the priest's power is greater than mine. It is not a pleasant realisation to be sure...

    Yet I am powerful enough for now...my plot goes well. The paladin grows more and more feverish as days pass. My curses speak daily to her, they grind against her sanity and blight her waking moments. It was most amusing to see her running about the town in blind terror screaming of daemons and ranting for Helm's aid. Her god cannot help her here...nothing can for she has crossed my path. None do so and go unmarked. Though it seems I have a hidden foe, Rashid. I cannot force his blessings, I cannot breach the walls he erects about her! Perhaps it is time to enchant a ritual, one to break her for ever...

    Or perhaps not...

    Maybe it would do to toy with her first, to teach her the truth of existance, that good and evil are merely points of perception. To show her that we all live in the shades of grey and that each of us more or less matters little unless we strive for greatness. Yes, it goes well enough, though I must be careful....

    Rashid commanded that her ague be researched, and the source discovered. Though I am loathe to admit it...I do not wish them to find me - I have hidden myself behind a thousand veils of darkness, yet their blade of light cuts deep. Allready that wretch Philomena openly accused me of ill-deeds in town. The fool, typical quite frankly of her breed.

    She may have to be removed as a threat...precautions are neccessary for I do not think she can be bought.

    The Lady Aspera Chillwind


  • Diary of the Lady

    The pages of this journal are of finest quality, the paper soft to the touch. A elegant and floral hand writes the words in ink of purest black

    So it has come to this, a hideous little human village populated by a group of inbred peasants living in their lank hovels. Aye, it has been only twenty years since its destruction…but I yearn so for its beauty...

    The winds whisper to me of power...somewhere here there is energies to tap, there may be worth coming here yet. Fierthior is forbidden from the town, they fear him! These people who boast and flaunt their supposed 'goodness' over us all.

    I met a miserable old fool yesterday. A human 'scholar' by the name of Melchior. It is some satisfaction to think that death is close at hand for him - humans live not so long and allready he is white with it. Yet he dared question me? Me? The Lady Chillwind! I will see something happen to that creature...in time...he is too powerful for me to slay...

    A wedding is in town, I too saw the 'bride' yesterday. I have not seen the husband, but I would warrent he must be an orc, for no other would marry such a scrawny rat as she! She was desparately trying to look comely in a selection of wedding dresses that quite frankly would have looked better on one of Fine's hogs than she! Mayhaps the wedding may be a good time, dark things move when wine flows as the saying goes...

    My spell worked, I managed to call upon her. She was a most compelling woman, I could see the mark of power in her. I would that the others were less suspicious, I shall have to be wary. Be as the flower for now, lest the foolishness of them come to the fore. I would not have my brother's fate...

    I have dreams sometimes of the flames licking higher and higher, they scortch my flesh and I scream. Then a rain of ice falls...The flame is extinguished though my body is smote down...What can this mean?

    My path is clear...I deserve the power by blood...and yet...if I take it...the path splits...