George R. Shirer's Blog, page 14

Lux Tenebris: Sister Silma

SISTER SILMA, L15 High Priestess of RashaSTR     07(-2)DEX    08(-1)CON   10(+0)INT     14(+2)WIS     16(+3)CHA   17(+3)HP       72
Racial TraitsDarkvisionKeen SensesFey AncestryTranceCantrip: Dancing LightsLanguages: Celestial, Common, Elvish, Halfling, Sylvan
Proficiencies(+5)Armor: Light, Medium, ShieldsWeapons: All simple weapons*Tools: Calligrapher's Supplies*Saves: Wisdom(+8), Charisma(+8)Skills: History(+7), Insight(+8), Persuasion(+8), Religion(+7)
FeatsShelter of the Faithful* * *SpellcastingDivine Domain: Light- Bonus Cantrip: Light- Warding Flare- Improved Flare- Potent SpellcastingChannel Divinity(2x)- Turn Undead- Radiance of the DawnDestroy Undead (3 or Lower)Divine Intervention* * *SpellcastingSpell DC:  16Atk Mod: +8Cantrips(5): Guidance, Mending, Sacred Flame, Spare the Dying, ThaumaturgyL1(4): burning hands, faerie fire, Bless, Cure Wounds, Sanctuary, Shield of FaithL2(3): Continual Flame, Lesser Restoration, Spiritual WeaponL3(3): flaming sphere, scorching ray, Beacon of Hope, Dispel Magic, RevivifyL4(3): Banishment, Death Ward, Guardian of FaithL5(2): daylight, fireball, Dispel Evil & Good, Greater RestorationL6(1):  HealL7(1): guardian of faith, wall of fire, ResurrectionL8(1): Holy Aura
*Author's Note: Because of her background, Sister Silma never took part in Elvish Weapon Training. That Racial Trait was switched out for a Proficiency with Caligrapher's Tools.
Sister Silma is the aged and reverred High Priestess of the Temple of Rasha-of-the-Moon in the elvish city-state of Moonhome. She came from humble beginnings, born to common parents.  Her birth was difficult and when Silma was born she was a sickly and frail infant.  Many of her parents contemporaries suggested it would be kinder, and more pragmatic, to abandon the infant to the wild.  Silma's parents did not heed this advice, and raised their daughter with care and love.Silma grew up within the growing city of Goldsun. Because of her fragile health, she was granted a dispensation so she did not attend the mandatory military training most Goldsun elves undergo. Instead, she found herself drawn to a life of devotion. She became an accolyte in the Temple of Rasha, where she spent most of her days working in the temple's scriptorium, applying her talent for caligraphy as she produced duplicates of the temple's holy books.However, even though Silma lived apart from the rest of Goldsun, she was not unaware of the discontent growing among the common elves of the city. The High King had already begun a program of repression against the so-called malcontents of the city. As time passed, the repressive tactics grew bloodier.Distraught by these events, Silma sought solace and guidance in prayer. One evening, as she was praying, Silma received a vision from the goddess, Rasha, herself. The goddess instructed Silma to gather the unhappy elves of Goldsun and lead them north.Silma was not the only elf in Goldsun to receive this divine vision, and in the visions of others the young woman was identified as the leader of this divine exodus. The reaction from the city's secular and spiritual authorities was immediate. The holy vision was dismissed as 'vile sorcery' and those who claimed to have recieved it were rounded up and imprisoned. Sister Silma found herself facing the fury of the temple's High Priestess, who demanded she renounce this vision. Silma refused.  As a result, the High Priestess ordered Silma to be locked within a tower cell until she saw sense.Other visions followed, not so easily dismissed as the product of 'sorcerous malcontents' but the authorities continued their repressive policies. Finally, in an effort to pin the entire affair on a scapegoat, Sister Silma was brought before the High King and the leaders of Goldsun's spiritual community. She was ordered to renounce the visions as the product of sorcery, or she would be executed.As the High King made his threat, however, the goddess Rasha intervened. Appearing in the court as a whirlwind of burning radiance, the goddess lashed out at her High Priestess. The woman was struck blind, defrocked and sent away from Goldsun by the goddess, to wander through the Underdark.In a furious voice, Rasha ordered the High King to free Silma and the others he had wrongly imprisoned and to reflect upon his decisions lest she withdraw her divine favor from the elves of Goldsun.  And if she did that, they would all suffer a similar fate to that of her former High Priestess.The High King immediately ordered Silma and the others free. They were given what supplies they requested and allowed to leave the city.Guided by visions from Rasha, the party of about 1000 elves left Goldsun and headed north, through the dreaded Lirwood. Eventually, they stumbled upon the Feywild Path, where they encountered the benevolent Archfey known as the Shepherd-of-the-Leaves. He led the party along the path, through the Feywild, and back into the mortal world on the northeastern side of the Stonespear Mountains.It was here, at the edge of the Braerosean Wastes and the Stonespear Mountains, that the group of pilgrims severed. The voyage from Goldsun had been hard and dangerous. Lives had been lost, in the Lirwood, in the Feywild. Some of the pilgrims expressed doubts and eventually chose to leave the group. About a hundred elves broke away from the group and chose to head south. Their fate remains unknown.Silma experienced a crisis of faith herself at this point and sought respite in prayer and meditation. Eventually, she gathered herself together and led the group forward, into the Stonespear Mountains.Eventually, the group discovered the valley where they would establish the community of Moonhome. The first winter there was difficult and many died, but the survivors persevered and the little community took root and began to grow. Unexpected help came with the arrival of the silver dragon, Hankatar, the Brothers of the Vine and then the wizard, Aureum Oduro.Sister Silma had gratefully relinquished much of her authority by this time to the community's secular leaders. She still concerned herself with their spiritual health and development, but acknowledged the fact that she had no experience or talent for planning streets or negotiating trade contracts.However, as Sister Silma began to withdraw from secular life, she was cautiouned by her goddess about leaving the elves to their own devices. That without her guidance, the community would become as insular and closeminded as Goldsun.Silma hoped that this was not true, but saw what her goddess meant when refugees began to arrive in Moonhome. Most were welcome, but not all. And when the drow appeared, the city seemed on the verge of rejecting them outright.Realizing she could not abandon her responsibilities, no matter how tired she was, Sister Silma solved the drow situation by donning her full ceremonial regalia as High Priestess of Rasha, walking through the streets of Moonhome to the city gates and formally welcoming the drow.Her actions mollified the community and the drow were welcomed, despite some grumbling from the more conservative elements among the elves.However, Sister Silma's actions have had unexpected repurcussions. Not just for Moonhome, but for all of Nur. Moonhome now finds itself upon the continent's political stage, advocating for greater tollerance and acceptance for all. A stance that has earned them new allies and some enemies among the regional city-states.Sister Silma never intended to become a political firebrand or spiritual leader, but she now finds herself filling both of those positions.  She spends her days acting as a mediator between political factions, encouraging all sides to find common ground, and her nights in quiet prayer and meditation.Her health remains fragile and there are some days she cannot leave the grounds of the Temple. Her accolytes, fellow priests and attendants fret and fuss over her, much to the sister's annoyance. She knows that she is old, but she also knows that she will not die, until her duty to her goddess is complete. Until then, Sister Silma will continue to enlighten those around her, guiding by kind example, supported by both the city-state that she helped establish and the goddess that she serves.

Today, A Haiku Story

Today was crappy.I forgot to pay a bill,and it made me mad
It just spun me out,made me feel stupid and old.My feelings ate me.
I came home and sulked.Made a YouTube video,vented to the world.
Afterwards, I hid.I slid into my bedroom,feeling poisonous.
I sulked and I stewed.I played solitaire a lot,and I watched YouTube.
Then I checked Facebook,and saw that my day was good,compared to others.
No one I love died,I'm not a victim of hate,and I have my health.
My day was not bad,compared to some other's days,because I'm still here.
Perspective is good.It can be enlightening.It can be shaming.
My day was not bad.I forgot to pay a bill.That's nothing at all.

Neon Haiku

Were you there that night,When the lights died in Neon?When the gods cursed them?
Did you see them fall,the star-towers and sky-homes?Did you watch them die?
The city's proud folk,undone by their own hubris,condemned to shadow.
No light can shine there,not candle or torch or lamp.Now darkness rules there.
But Neon lives onin a peculiar fashionof its own making.
Misery is gold.At least when it's not your own.Suffering is silver.
Folk come to Neon,to gaze at its lost wonders,to stare at its folk.
Some come there to hide.Some come to be forgotten.And some come to die.
Neon welcomes them,as graveyards welcome the dead.But some come and live.
Death begats new life.Neon fell but it rises,it lurches to life.
From the Water Marchto the great Fallen Palace,the city rises.
The merchants gatherin Downmarket and Gloom Street.The city rises.
Priests whisper prayersasking the gods for mercy.The city rises.
In the deep shadows,rogues go about their dark work.The city rises.
The carrion mensell corpses fresh from their graves.The city rises.
Whores of every stripeoffer dark pleasures for gold.The city rises.
Watchmen walk the streets,alert for any trouble.The city rises.
Urchins beg sweetlyfrom every shadowed doorway.The city rises.
Adventurers comebraving the dark, hunting fame.The city rises.

Lux Tenebris: Moonhome - Part 2

Moonhome was founded two centuries ago, but has grown quickly.  At present, it has a population of approximately 8,160 citizens.  Approximately 62% (5060) of Moonhome's population is of elvish blood.  Humans comprise about 25% (2040) of the population, with halflings consisting of 5% (408) and dwarves about 2% (163). The remainder of Moonhome's population consists of other races, such as freescale dragonborn, gnomes, etc.

In the two centuries since its founding, Moonhome has grown organically. The original settlers did not have a city plan in mind when they established their first homes, rather they built where they liked and, over time, those temporary lodgings evolved into more durable and permanent structures.  Over time, well-worn pathways evolved into rough-lanes and cobblestoned streets.
This pattern of organic growth and expansion continued when the first new settlers arrived. As a result, Moonhome is not organized into metropolitan wards, like other cities, but rather functions as a series of close-knit, albeit independently run village-neighborhoods who send representatives to the City Council.
Because of this, Moonhome's neighborhood-villages all have very distinct personalities. In recent years, there has been a push for a more formal city plan to be developed, as Moonhome expands. This idea is being pushed for the sake of public sanitation and health, moreso than anything else. However, calls for centralizing authority and power in the hands of the City Council are usually met with stiff resistance from the majority of Moonhome's residents.  In their minds, less government is a good thing.
Moonhome does have a Mayor, who runs for election once every eight years.  The Mayor's job is mostly ceremonial and administrative. He sets the agenda for the City Council, supervises various public works and is responsible for city-wide services, such as the City Watch and the City Militia.
Council Members represent Moonhome's five neighborhood-villages. The Council Members are chosen from the members of the neighborhood-village councils by those councils. Council member terms vary depending on which neighborhood-village they represent. For example, Dragonhearth's Council Member is replaced once every four years, while Mountview's Council Member is replaced yearly. Because of this, the makeup and disposition of the City Council changes quite frequently.
Moonhome has five distinct neighborhood-villages: Dragonhearth, Bridges, Mountview, Solace and Checkers.
Dragonhearth is the oldest of Moonhome's neighborhoods. It was the site of the first settlement, two centuries ago. Those rough lean-to's and tents have long been replaced with sturdy wood and stone houses, the rough lanes replaced with cobblestoned streets lit by witchlights strung on wires that stretch across its streets, from building to building.  The City Council House is located in Dragonhearth, on the east side of Silver Dragon Park. Across the park, facing the City Council House, is the Temple of Rasha-of-the-Moon. The Temple was the first public works project funded by the city and is the tallest structure in Moonhome. The Temple's Tower rises three-hundred feet (about 15 stories) into the air and, at night, the blessed silver lamp at the tower's apex casts a silver-blue glow over the entirely of Dragonhearth.Dragonhearth's most famous resident is it's namesake, the elder silver dragon, Hankatar. It is common knowledge that Hankatar has a home in Dragonhearth, and that he walks the streets of Moonhome in a humanoid guise. However, no one seems to know what the dragon's humanoid form looks like, so folk in Dragonhearth tend to be very polite to people they meet on the street or in the shops. After all, one doesn't know that the old fellow having a friendly chat with the waitress at the tea shop isn't the Silver Dragon of Moonhome. Do they?
West of Dragonhearth, just across Laughing Water Stream, is the neighborhood of Bridges.  Bridges is a very damp neighborhood. There are a myriad of streams that crisscross the area, producing some very damp ground.  Nevertheless, as Moonhome's population expanded, new residents began to move into the area. Attempts to redirect the various streams ended badly, until the residents decided to work around the flow of water.Buildings in Bridges are built on elevated platforms that place them at least a foot above the ground. In some areas, where seasonal flooding occurs, the buildings are placed much higher. Numerous pedestrian bridges crisscross the neighborhood's streams, many of them ornately carved and decorated by local artisans. Streets in Bridges are unpaved and, during the rainy summer months, turn into muddy tracts that can bog down a laden cart.  As such, Bridge's retail and commercial businesses tend to occupy properties near the borders to Dragonhearth and Checkers.Bridges is a fairly quiet neighborhood. Most of the residents are elves who came to Moonhome from human-dominated cities, such as Fallen Baramir and Swordhold. Many retain the styles and customs from those cities, so it isn't uncommon to encounter elves dressed in the fashions of Swordhold or humming popular songs from the streets of Darkwater on any of the neighborhood's lovely pedestrian bridges.
To the east of Dragonhearth, is the neighborhood called Mountview.  Mountview was the site of Moonhome's first expansion. The area was chosen by the Brothers of the Vine as the site of their monastery and winery. The brothers built their monastery facing the east, giving them an excellent view of the mountains that surround the valley. The monastary and the winery still stand today, at the heart of Mountview, surrounded by homes and businesses.If Moonhome has an industrial center, Mountview is that place. This neighborhood is where the majority of Moonhome's manafactories and crafthalls are set up. There are several small guildhalls established in Mountview, as well as trade schools.Mountview is also the site of the Street of Treasures. This street runs between Dragonhearth and Mountview, containing shops that sell fine, imported goods. There are restaurants and tea shops, wine bars and book shops, perfumeries and jewelers. In addition to industry and commerce, Mountview is also the site of various temples. Ratava, the Goddess of Pleasure, has a fairly large temple in south Mountview, near Solace, as does Kasam, the God of Charity and Wealth, and Neka, the Goddess of Trade and Diplomacy.
North of Bridges, Dragonhearth and Mountview is Checkers. The northernmost of Moonhome's neighborhoods, and the largest, Checkers is a predominantly agrarian community. Most of the residents are halflings, who came to Moonhome with the Brothers of the Vine, and sent word to family and friends about the new city. The halflings arrival was a boon, as food production was starting to become a problem. The halflings chose to settle, initially, a little ways away from their neighbors. Initially, their settlement was called Neromil, but as time passed, the area became known as 'the Checkerboard' and, finally, just Checkers.  The name came from the checkerboard-like layout of farming fields in the neighborhood. However, many original halflings continue to refer to the neighborhood as Neromil, a Halfling word that translates, roughly, to 'New Home.'Most of the homes and businesses in Checkers are built on the halfling scale, and integrated into the local landscape. The streets in Checkers are well maintained and the most ordererd, laid out in a pragmatic grid pattern.Checkers and its residents provide most of Moonhome's food, and this gives the community a great deal of influence and leeway around the city. Halfling farmers are some of the wealthiest residents of the city, and most aren't shy about spending coin for creature comforts. Some halfling homes are quite ostentatious by that race's standards. However, the residents of Checkers also put money into their community. There are publicly-supported schools in the neighborhood which any child can attend, for free, and hospitals and hospices overseen by priests of Halab and Anola. There is a large communal Temple of Ralam, the God of Agriculture, at the heart of the neighborhood which doubles as the neighborhood Council House and as a venue for public events.Checkers is so well-organized and laid out that the neighborhood has seen a large influx of newcomers, mostly human, who have brought new energy and excitement to this sleepy, northernmost part of Moonhome.
And, finally, south of Mountview and Dragonhearth is Moonhome's newest neighborhood, Solace. Initially, Solace was a refugee camp where newcomers to Moonhome, fleeing persecution and prejudice, settled and waited for permission to enter the city proper. As time passed, the tents were replaced with permanent structures and the grassy lanes became dirt and stone tracks. Many of Solace's refugees gradually integrated into the city's other neighborhoods, but some chose to make their home in the former camp. It was these people who built the neighborhood, naming it Solace and offering a welcome hand to newcomers, whether they were refugees or just visitors. Eventually, Solace was formally recognized as part of Moonhome and given a seat on the City Council.Today, Solace continues to serve as the unofficial gateway to the rest of Moonhome. The neighborhood is dynamic, with people constantly coming and going at all times of the day and night. Solace has accomodations for everyone, from well-to-do merchants from Mountgate and Graycrown, to refugees fleeing the war. Many temples have established charitable institutions in the neighborhood, and there are more shrines, to more gods, in Solace than in any other part of Moonhome.Solace's population is the most diverse in the city. Elves share the streets with dwarves and drow, half-ogres and humans, tieflings and gnomes. Even stranger creatures are sometimes seen in Solace, such as goliaths and tabaxi, and even freescale dragonborn. Its stores and markets reflect this diversity and you can find items and goods in Solace that can't be found anywhere else in Moonhome, not even on the Street of Treasures.Sadly, Solace also sees a fair amount of street crime. Because of this, Solace's neighborhood Council works closely with and strongly supports the City Watch. In fact, watchmen in Solace get a generous stipend from the neighborhood Council, making duty there a popular and lucrative assignment.

Lux Tenebris: Moonhome

The city of Moonhome nestles in a valley within the Stonespear Mountains. It is not a very large city when compared to others, but it is one of the dominant political powers within Western Nur. This is more impressive when one takes into account that Moonhome is less than two hundred years old.
The city was founded by elves from Goldsun. Led by Sister Silma, a priestess of Rasha, these Goldsun elves were commoners who grew discontent with their lack of a voice in the government of their city.  Sister Silma did not seek to lead these malcontents, but had visionary dreams sent to her by the goddess, Rasha, instructing her to gather up the discontent elves and lead them north, to a new home.
This movement was, at first, violently repressed by both the secular and religious authorities within Goldsun. The persecution ended when the goddess, Rasha, cursed the High Priestess of her temple, transforming her into a monstrous creature and exiling her from the light of sun and moon.  After this abject lesson, the High King and the remaining temples were quick to withdraw their opposition and almost a thousand elves chose to depart with Sister Silma.
At first, the party traveled north, through the treacherous Lirwood, guided by rangers and Sister Silma's divine visions. It was these visions that led the party to what would become known as the Feywild Path, a supernatural route connecting the infamous Feywild with Lore at various points. By taking the Feywild Path, Sister Silma and her group cut weeks off of their travel time, even though it meant they had to brave the arcane vagaries of the Feywild itself.  Fortunately, the group's travels through the Feywild were guided and advised by an Archfey known as the Shepherd-of-the-Leaves.
The travelers emerged east of the Stonespear Mountains, on the edge of the dreaded Braerosen Wastes. At this point, some of the group questioned whether they had made the right choice, following Sister Silma. Some elves chose to leave the group and they traveled south, along the edge of the mountains.  They vanished and their fate remains unknown to this day.
The elves who remained were rewarded for their faith by a vision from Rasha. They were instructed to travel west, towards the moon's home. They obeyed, entering the Stonespear Mountains and traversing its peaks and valleys, until they came to a mountain valley where it appeared as if the moon was sinking into the ground. Realizing that this was their destination, the group quickly entered the valley and began to prepare for the coming winter.
The elves named their settlement Moonhome and it barely survived that first winter in the mountains. It was a time of privation and suffering, but the elves endured, and when spring arrived an unlikely ally arrived with it: a silver dragon.
The silver dragon was called Hankatar. He was an Elder Dragon who spent some seasons in the valley, and was willing to share the space with the elvish settlers as long as no one tried to steal from his horde.  The elves agreed and Hankatar became a valuable ally and source of information about the region.As the elves established themselves in the valley, it became apparent that although they were largely self-sufficient, there were some things they needed that they could not produce themselves. They would need to open a trade route. This, however, would be difficult because of their isolation and their lack of tradeable goods. There was a market for elvish crafts in some cities, but it was doubtful Moonhome could produce anything unique enough to attract the attention of buyers.
At this point, Moonhome welcomed its first new residents. An order of monks, the Brothers of the Vine were devotees of the goddess Rasha, and they claimed to have been guided to Moonhome by their goddess, to give what aid and comfort they could to the elves. The Brothers were a mix of races, human and elf and halfling, all united by their devotion to Rasha and their love of wines.  They were welcomed to Moonhome and quickly established a monastary and vineyard. Within a decade, the Brothers were producing wines with amazing restorative properties, and Moonhome finally had a product that could be sold in the outside world.
Again, the problem of transport came up. Hankatar would not act as a beast of burden for the elves, and traveling overland would be long and hard. The only feasible option seemed to be the Feywild Path, but the elves were hesitant to use it. Without the Shepherd-of-the-Leaves to guide them, who knew if anyone would survive the journey or even where it would end.
The problem of transport would soon become moot with the arrival of a newcomer in the valley. Aureum Oduro was a wizard and a friend of Hankatar.  He arrived in Moonhome to visit the dragon and, when he learned of the elves' transport problem, offered to assist by establishing a teleport circle linking Moonhome with his estate near Fallen Baramir.  In exchange, Aureum asked for a parcel of land near the city where he could construct a vacation home. After some discussion with Hankatar, the elves agreed.
Moonhome wines arrived in Fallen Baramir and became quite popular, not just among the esthetes of the city, but the healers as well. Their reputation as a restorative spread and soon Moonhome wines were in demand from Greycrown to Darkwater.
As the reputation of the wines spread, so to did stories of their source. Elves who had broken away from the Logra Delfa and settled in human cities, were particularly curious about this new elvish city.  Having lived among humans for so long, many of these elves found the stratified, conservative atmosphere of Goldsun to be too stifling.  Moonhome, however, sounded much more welcoming.
Inquiries were made about transport to the city, but traveling there was difficult and expensive. Still some of these elvish exiles persisted, even traveling overland, to arrive in Moonhome, dusty and weary, but happy to have finally arrived. They were made welcome, and many chose to remain in the growing city, sending word back to friends and relations of their warm welcome and the open nature of the city.
Moonhome's reputation and isolation made it naturally appealing to those individuals and groups seeking to escape persecution.  Misfits and malcontents, the persecuted and the denigrated began to seek out the city. Many chose to remain, heartened by the genial nature and laissez-faire attitude of the citizenry, contributing to its growth and cultural diversity.
However, even the tolerance of Moonhome's residence was tested with the arrival of the first drow refugees in the valley. The city's elvish founders were divided on the issue of whether to welcome the drown or send them away.  The non-elvish citizens waited and watched, curious to see what the city founders would do and how their decision would shape Moonhome's future.
It was Sister Silma, ancient and venerated, who resolved the situation. As High Priestess of the Temple of Rasha, in full ceremonial regalia, she walked to the city gates and personally welcomed the drow refugees to Moonhome.  Any question as to whether Moonhome would welcome and accept the drow among them vanished. The drow were welcome, and if that welcome was cooler than others had received, the fact that they were welcome at all was seen as a great blessing among them, and a sign of the clear division between Moonhome and Goldsun by others.
Until this point, Goldsun had largely ignored Moonhome. With their acceptance of the hated drow into their city, however, Goldsun disregard turned to cold hostility. All trade and commerce between the two elvish city-states came to a sharp end and Moonhome's residents were banned from setting foot with Goldsun's domain upon pain of death.  Moonhome acknowledged this and then went back to ignoring Goldsun, an action that infuriated the High King.
The tension between Goldsun and Moonhome did not go unnoticed or unmoved upon by the other western powers.  Moonhome had been viewed as little more than a decent trading partner until now, but Goldsun's frigid reaction to the isolated city-state drew the interest of political factions from Darkwater to Alindema.  Moonhome found itself drawn, somewhat reluctantly, into the arena of continental politics.
At the time of the Draconic Invasion of Western Nur, Moonhome was enjoying a reputation as a diverse and welcoming city.  Its isolation, far from established trade routes and shielded by the Stonespear Mountains, made it a low priority target for the Draconic Legions.  They did dispatch a formal emissary to Moonhome, but he was forced to turn back because of foul weather and treacherous terraine.
Nevertheless, Moonhome has played a part in the war. It accepted dozens of refugees from Fallen Baramir via Aureum Oduro's teleport circle. When Swordhold fell to the Draconic Legions, the heir to the city-state's throne, Prince Berret, found sanctuary in Moonhome by following the Feywild Path.
Now, with the western powers gathering at Fallen Baramir, under a united banner, to launch a counterstrike against the Legion, Moonhome has chosen to dispatch a force of vollunteers to aid in the war effort.  This force is eclectic and includes several freescale dragonborn, a trio of drow siblings and a one-eyed dwarf berserker named Verra Kaffervek. This motely group is led by an elf warrior named Balan Leafborn.

Lux Tenebris: A Brief History of Elves in Western Nur

            Elves are not native to the continent of Nur. They arrived roughly a thousand years ago as refugees fleeing the Dissolution of Vorfel.  They arrived with very little outside of their language, their history and what most could carry with them.            Humans had inhabited Nur for longer than the elves who arrived during the time of the Phoenix Kingdom.  There had been limited contact between the elven nations and the Phoenix Kingdom, but elven disregard for the shorter-lived races meant that most of that contact had been formal, at best, and cold, at worst.            Despite this, the Phoenix Kingdom welcomed the elven refugees into their lands, even going so far as to integrate elvish nobility into the kingdom's Court.  This caused some friction between the human noble families and the new elvish nobles, but aside from subtle shifting on the social front there were no overt hostilities between the parties.            Not all the elves who arrived in Nur remained within the Phoenix Kingdom. Many felt that the trappings of civilization had contributed to the loss of their homeland. These elves, viewed as radicals by most of their kith and kin, eschewed civilization and its cities and melted into the wild lands beyond the Phoenix Kingdom's borders.  The elves who remained disdainfully referred to these breakaways as 'wood elves' and the name stuck.  The wood elves, for their part, referred to their city-dwelling cousins as 'High Elves,' claiming that they spent all their time walking around with their noses in the air.  Over time, the disdain between these two offshoots of the elvish race became culturally ingrained, passed on from the older generation to the next.  One of the few things the two cultures retained in common was their contempt for the drow.            Centuries passed and a new generation of high elves was born within the Phoenix Kingdom. This new generation had inherited their parents disdain for the shorter-lived races and began to wonder why their people were not ruling the kingdom.  Were elves not longer lived? Were they not wiser? Smarter? More sophisticated?            From this generation arose the Logra Delfa, which roughly translates as 'grasping hand.' The Logra Delfa sought power and began to take subtle steps to acquire it. Realizing that the humans had the advantage in numbers, the Logra Delfa began to position certain families loyal to their cause within the Phoenix Court. It took almost three centuries, but their machinations eventually paid off when a half-elf royal bastard named Athen Blackmantle was born.            When the Blackmantle's father, King Heron, died, Athen challenged his half-brother, Rochard, for the crown. As a result, the Phoenix Kingdom was thrown into a tumultuous civil war that eventually led to its destruction. Any hope the Logra Delfa had of seizing the throne came to an end at the Battle of Grey Hill, where Athen Blackmantle died in battle with his brother, King Rochard.            Following the death of King Rochard, the elves were driven out of the South, into the northern wilderness. To this day, those with elvish blood are not welcome in the Southlands.            The surviving members of the Logra Delfa trekked northward, intent on putting as much distance between themselves and the humans as feasible. However, not all the high elves chose to go into exile with the Logra Delfa. Many left, settling in human cities and towns, deliberately distancing themselves from the ideology and actions of the Logra Delfa. Some sought out their wood elf cousins and joined them in the wilderness, coming to believe that their primal cousins had been right all along.            The Logra Delfa moved northward, beyond the realms of humans. They skirted the mountain territories of the dwarves, and eventually came to the southern edge of the Lirwood. There, the elves stopped, dispatching scouts to find a route through those dreaded woods. Of all the scouts dispatched, only one returned. His name was Kalo and the path he led the elves along, through the Lirwood, became known as Kalo's Path.            Kalo led the high elves to the site of what would become the city of Goldsun.  The elves, inspired by omens and prophetic visions, began to build their city. It took them a century to construct the shield wall surrounding Goldsun, but much less time to build the city itself.             As Goldsun was built, the elves established a formal monarchy with absolute power residing in the hands of the High King. Common elves had very little say in the administration of the city or the crafting of its laws.  This led to feelings of ill-will among some. Eventually, these malcontents would unite and abandon Goldsun, marching even further north, to the Stonespear Mountains where they would establish the city of Moonhome.            The two elven nations, Goldsun and Moonhome, would come to represent opposite poles of the political and social spectrum. Goldsun remained a highly stratified society of conservative values and views, where power flowed exclusively from the High King. Moonhome evolved into an inclusive, freewheeling, almost bohemian, representational democracy guided by an elected council. As could be expected, the two elven nations have little direct commerce or contact with each other.            While the high elves were kingdom building, their wood elf cousins were slowly spreading north and west.  By the time the Phoenix Kingdom fell, there were significantly more wood elves than high elves in Western Nur. Many wood elves lived as wandering nomads, traveling north in the summer and south in the winter.  Others established small communes, deep in the wilderness, as far from 'civilization' as possible.            Unfortunately, wood elf expansion eventually led to conflict with the dwarven nations. The dwarves viewed the elves as trespassers, at best, and invaders, at worst. There were bloody altercations between the two groups that resulted in long-term animosity between the two races.            Wood elf expansion into the northlands, eventually brought them into contact, and conflict, with the Great Orc Horde.  This would prove to be a calamitous meeting for the wood elves who could not match the orcs in numbers or ferocity. As the horde traveled south, the wood elves fled before them, alerting the other races to the orcish advance.              The dwarves were naturally disinclined to believe the wood elves and were caught mostly off-guard when the horde arrived upon their doorsteps.  The other races, however, were more receptive and most human cities and communities were fortified by the time the horde arrived. Because of this, humans tend to look upon wood elves with more favor than high elves and the two races often work together for their mutual benefit.            By the time the orc horde was broken and decimated, it is estimated that almost 75% of the former wood elf population had perished.  The survivors gathered together in more defensible communes, adopting a kind of siege mentality that persists to this day. However, the communes remain independent and unallied with each other to this day, a fact that has been exploited more than once by elvish enemies.            Today, the elvish race remains scattered throughout Western Nur, from the Palatine Peninsula to the Stonespear Mountains to the continent's western coast. Outside of Goldsun and Moonhome, there are large elvish communities in Fallen Baramir, Swordhold and Darkwater.            Some elves have traveled east of the Stonespear Mountains, to the city of Pax and the Draconic Empire, but there are no elvish communities or nations established outside of Western Nur.            Elves who venture into the north of Western Nur, beyond the Greytooth Mountains and the region around Darkwater are few and far between. The region is mostly untamed and rife with dangers.

Lux Tenebris: Goldsun

The city of Goldsun sprawls through the Lirwood, far from any other humanoid city.  Founded over four hundred years ago by elves exiled from the Southlands, Goldsun has become one of the dominant political powers in Western Nur.  It claims a vast swath of territory as its own, encompassing several smaller elvish communities, most of which lie within the shadow of the Lirwood itself.
Goldsun is heavily defended.  Its stone walls are forty feet high and fifteen feet thick, with sentinel towers spaced equidistantly along its length. In addition, the city is defended by various magical wards that confound, confuse and contain almost anyone who tries to approach the city through the Lirwood itself.
There is only a single road that leads to Goldsun, known as Kalo's Path. It winds through the Lirwood, connecting to the Eastern Trade Road in the south. Kalo's Path is well-maintained and patrolled by Goldsun militia.  There are tolls to use the Path, but they are not prohibitive for most merchants.  Some travelers seek to avoid the tolls by going off the Path, into the Lirwood. Most fall victim to the wards strung throughout the forest, wandering lost and confused until rescued by the city's agents.  Some fall victim to the many dangerous beasts and creatures that make the Lirwood their home. Others simply vanish, never to be seen or heard from again.
The City of GoldsunAs travelers near the end of Kalo's Path, the first thing they see before the city itself is a sprawling graveyard. Dominated by a modest temple to Rovelek, the god of the dead, this graveyard is known as the Fields of Mercy. It is used exclusively for the burial of nonelves, and is, perhaps, the first indicator that nonelves are not entirely welcome in Goldsun. Indeed, goblinoids and drow are forbidden to enter the city upon pain of death.

As travelers pass the Fields of Mercy, they can see the winding walls of Goldsun itself. The walls are difficult to miss as they are made of a pale yellow stone, unique to the region. Rumors abound that illusions are also used to give the city walls their unusual color. 
Travelers who admire the city walls inevitably notice a smaller, more drab walled enclave just outside the city.  This small village, known rather dismissively as the Shacks, is home to some three hundred people. The Shacks contain mostly of inns and taverns to house Goldsun's visitors and, despite the name, the community is actually quite nice.  The Shacks fall firmly under the control of Goldsun, specifically the Master of Gates. Although the Shacks has a large transitory population, its permanent residents are mostly elves.
The gates to Goldsun are open from dawn to dusk. Once travelers pass beyond the gates, they find themselves in a walled ward known as the Market. This is the only ward in Goldsun that most nonelf outsiders ever get to see.  The Market teems with shops and stalls where elvish merchants buy raw materials from all over Nur and elvish craftsmen sell fine wares to be resold beyond the city.  There are taverns and restaurants within the Market as well, so that visitors may refresh themselves, but no inns or guesthouses. Nonelves are forbidden within the city walls outside of daylight hours. This rule is enforced with brutal elacrity by Goldsun's city watch, known locally as greenjacks because of the color of their uniforms.
If one is granted the privilege of passing beyond the Market's walls, they find themselves in one of several forested areas that act as natural barriers between Goldsun's various wards.
North of Market is the ward known as the Commons. This ward meanders through the city and is the largest. The Commons are the home of elves who are not considered of noble-blood. They reside in whatever homes they choose to fashion for themselves. Some live in stone houses, while others live in houses magically woven from living trees, and others sleep in gaily colored pavillions. Colorful pennants flutter from doorways and windows, proudly displaying family crests, and, after dark, the Commons are illuminated by strings of flickering colored witchlight.
Adjacent to the Commons, on the other side of a narrow greenward, is the area known as the Necessities. This ward is the site of Goldsun's local industry. Its existence is considered a necessary evil, as far as many city residents are concerned. The Necessities house those industries that are deemed too unsanitary, dangerous or just unpleasant to be located elsewhere in the city.  For example, the city's tanneries and slaughterhouses are located within the Necessities, as well as forges and alchemical foundries. There are no set hours of labor within the Necessities, and although most of the industries within close at sundown, it is not uncommon for some craftsmen to work late into the night.
North of the Commons, beyond a wide wooded area, lies the Palace.
The Palace is one of the largest single structures in Nur. It is a single, enormous house crafted from white marble. Its towers rise above the surrounding woodland, and the crest of Goldsun's royal family, the Summerharts, is proudly displayed above its gates and from its towers. The Summerhart Crest
The Palace is the seat of political power in Goldsun. It is the residence of the High King, Elox Summerhart, as well as the noble-born families of the city.  The Palace employs hundreds of servants to see to the comforts and needs of its noble residents and, as you would expect, its security is all but impenetrable.  Occasionally, a great honor is bestowed upon visiting dignitaries who are invited to remain within the Palace for the duration of their visit.
Goldsun is an absolute monarchy, but the High King does not rule in an echo chamber. The members of the Royal Court are invited to offer advice or wisdom, in an respectable manner, to his royal majesty.  Courtiers may attempt to influence the High King's decision, but, ultimately, power rests solely with the High King.  Any noble who publicly questions the wisdom of this situation often finds themselves shunned within the Palace, sent to live among the Commons for a while, or, in a worst case scenario, exiled from Goldsun.
East of the Palace, beyond a band of thick woodland, is the Citadel. If the Palace is the heart of political power in Goldsun, the Citadel is the heart of its military. The Citadel consists of a large fortress surrounded by several smaller structures and practice fields. The outer walls of the Citadel are stained red, a stark reminder of the elvish blood spilt to protect Goldsun and its people.
The Citadel houses the College of War, which is overseen by the Master of Swords, the Master of Shields and the Master of Wits.  Every citizen of Goldsun is required to attend the College for seventeen years. Most attendees learn basic combat, but more advanced students learn military tactics and strategy. Some citizens choose to join the city's militia, known as the Vigilant Orders, and become permanent residents of the Citadel.
West of the Palace, tucked away in a quiet corner of the city, near the wall, are the Fields of the Dead. This massive cemetary is the site of Goldsun's temple of Rovelek, which houses the largest ossuary in Nur. All elvish residents of Goldsun have their remains interred within the temple ossuary, and those who perform notable feats in service to the city are awarded a monument within the confines of the cemetary. Visiting elves who die within Goldsun can have their bones interred within the temple, but nonelves are relegated to the Fields of Mercy beyond the city. By royal decree, no drow dead may be interred within the city.
Directly north of the Palace are the Sanctum and the Inner Ward.
The Sanctum is the site of Goldsun's wizardic academies, including the Royal Academy of Thaumaturgy. Although sorcery is more common among elves, in Goldsun wizardry is held in higher regard. This is reflected in the number of academies specializing in wizardic magics and the few, rather shabbier schools, that offer instruction in the sorcerous arts. 
Within the Sanctum, but apart from it, is the Inner Ward. The Inner Ward is the spiritual center of Goldsun. Here, temples to almost every diety can be found.  Especially prominant in the Inner Ward are the temples to Abasha, Lukrym and Rasha.
Goldsun has a complicated relationship with the other nation-states of Western Nur. Although a formidable economic and military power, the city has few longterm political allies.  The siege mentality of its founders has passed on, somewhat, to their descendents who are largely disdainful or downright dismissive of the other shorter-lived races. These attitudes have often impeded true diplomacy with the other nations.
More and more often, in recent years, Goldsun has found itself excluded from alliances that could have benefitted the elvish city. When the Draconic Legions invaded the west, Goldsun's isolation offered it a degree of protection, at first. However, when the legions attention finally turned toward the city, Goldsun discovered that it had no close military or political allies to call upon either, to reenforce its defenses.  As such, many of the smaller communites on the far fringes of Goldsun's influence were decimated by the dragonborn invaders.
Much to the High King's chagrine, many of the survivors from these attacks chose to seek refuge in non-elvish cities such as Fallen Baramir, Swordhold and even Darkwater. And, although Goldsun itself was never attacked, the fact that the city could not protect its external territories has come as a great blow to the High King's pride and sense of honor.
In light of these events, the High King has been meeting in private with trusted members of the Citadel, the Court, the Sanctum and the Inner Ward.  Recently, he announced that Goldsun would join the other nations of Western Nur, to oust the Imperial Legions at Calhorne. He has even gone so far as to order the Crown Prince, Eloron, to lead the Vigilant Order to Fallen Baramir in hopes of strengthening ties with the other nations.

A Brief Update

Hello, gentle readers.

I've been working on the next write-up for Lux Tenebris, but it's slow going.

At the moment, I'm working on Goldsun, one of the two great elvish kingdoms on Nur.  Unfortunately, the more I write about Goldsun, the less I like what I've written.

It is NOT turning out like I want it to, but I continue to persevere.

Hopefully, I'll have an update to post here soon.

Lux Tenebris: Demigods

Demigods are the children of a mortal and a god.  They should not be confused with aasimars.Aasimars have the blood of celestial beings flowing through their veins; demigods have the blood of actual dieties.Demigods are very rare - there are only three on Lore at the moment - and can be from any race. They share the same racial traits as their mortal parent, but upon achieving adulthood their aging slows and can eventually stop.Their longevity allows demigods to master skills and abilities far beyond those of their mortal kith and kin.However, although demigods achieve extraordinary things, they are vulnerable. Most demigods die from violence. They are hunted by diabolic and demonic forces as well as primordial aberrations and even opportunistic mortals most of their lives.The ones who achieve a certain level of experience, often choose to leave the mortal realm and either adventure in the multiverse, retire to private demiplanes or take shelter with their divine parent.  Some, at the height of their power, can even ascend to godhood.
In game terms, demigods can progress to Level 40.  Their proficiency bonus increases to a maximum of +10 and they can choose from the list of Epic Boons at level 21, 25, 30, 35 and 40 with their DMs approval. In addition, demigods do NOT have a maximum character attribute of 18.
As always, DMs should feel free to disallow this content if they feel it will not work in their game setting or restrict it to NPCs that they control.
Experience Points                   Level                Proficiency Bonus                  Epic Boons 405,000                                   L21                  +7                                            Epic Boon460,000                                   L22                  +7520,000                                   L23                  +7580,000                                   L24                  +7645,000                                   L25                  +7                                            Epic Boon710,000                                   L26                  +8780,000                                   L27                  +8850,000                                   L28                  +8925,000                                   L29                  +81,000,000                                L30                  +8                                            Epic Boon1,080,000                                L31                  +91,160,000                                L32                  +91,245,000                                L33                  +91,330,000                                L34                  +91,420,000                                L35                  +9                                            Epic Boon1,515,000                                L36                  +101,610,000                                L37                  +101,705,000                                L38                  +101,800,000                                L39                  +101,900,000                                L40                  +10                                          Epic Boon

Lux Tenebris: Well Met at Midwinter

           It was Midwinter's Eve and a misty rain was falling upon the city of Moontree.  The city streets were largely empty, even the most devout holiday reveler having slunk indoors to find what cheer they could near a warm hearth or in the loving embrace.            Still, watchfires burned throughout the city and the temples blazed with light on this darkest of nights.  The air smelt of chimney smoke, the unmistakable stench of the sea and the crip smell of wet pine.            Isteban Mirelle stood on the rear lawn of his Silver Hill home, a tankard of hot cider in one hand, his head tipped back.  He watched the sky, oblivious to the cold, damp air but appreciating the warmth of the drink in his hand.            His home was quiet. The windows, festooned with seasonal greenery, were shuttered against the dark.            The servants had been sent away for the night, as was Isteban's custom.  Most of them thought their master was simply being generous, giving them a night and a day for themselves and a gold coin apiece as well.  Only Esther, his major domo, knew better, but she kept her mouth shut and ensured no servants remained in the house.             Isteban knew that Esther, herself, would be ensconced in a big feather bed at this time of night, after spending the first part of the evening at one of Moontree's temples.  She had been the last servant to go and would be the first to return tomorrow, at midday.   She did not like to leave him to his own devices for too long.  She knew him too well, and Isteban was grateful for her thoughtfulness.            But tonight she was gone and he was standing on cold, wet grass watching the sky. Gray clouds rolled across the black sky, obscuring the familiar stars, but still Isteban kept watch.            The soft sound of a man clearing his throat caused Isteban to sigh and pivot on his booted heels.            "Is that for me?"            The man leaning against the back wall of the house, arms crossed, grinning, was thin and wiry.  His skin was weather-beaten and brown, looking more like the gnarled bark of an old tree than flesh.  Wisps of silver-white hair clung to the sides of his otherwise bald head, and his eyebrows, thin and expressive, were raised in amused query.  He wore leather trousers and an embroidered buckskin shirt. His boots were worn, but serviceable, and a dark bag lay in a crumpled heap by his side.            "Hell's teeth, old friend. I thought for sure that I would spot you coming this year."            Smiling, Isteban crossed to the old man and pressed the hot cider into his hands. The old man took the drink with a laugh and raised it in a toast.            "To your fortune, sir!"            Then he tilted it back and drained it in a long gulp that would have impressed even the most ale-hardened dwarf.            "Ah!" The old man sighed his pleasure. "That hit the spot! Thank you, my boy! Thank you!"            Then he stepped forward and embraced Isteban in a ferocious hug that managed to knock the breath out of the younger man.            "It's good to see you, Lamplighter."            The old man stepped back, shook his head. "You know, you're about the only one who still calls me that."            "It's the name I knew you by when we first met."            "I remember," said the old man.  "And your name at the time? I forget."            "I know better," chided Isteban. "You never forget anything."            "Oh. I don't know. I am getting on in years, you know."            Isteban snorted, and laid his arm across the old man's shoulders. "You talk like you're still mortal. Come, Lamplighter. Let's get in out of the cold and the damp. I've a warm fire inside and a good meal."
            They ate in the kitchen, at the servants' table.  The food was simple fare - bread, soup, roast chicken - but well made and washed down with tankards of hot cider.  Afterwards, there was dried fruit and sharp cheese served with glasses of good white wine. When the last bit of cheese had been eaten, the old man produced a pipe and settled into his chair for a smoke.            Isteban left their plates in the sink, knowing that if he dared wash a single dish Esther would never let him hear the end of it.  He settled in his own chair, near the fire, with a glass of white wine.            "So, Lamplighter, how went your night?"            The old man took a long drag off his pipe and considered the question. He exhaled a stream of white smoke into the air and shrugged.            "A mixed bag this year," he admitted. "So many folk, needing so many things."            "And you provided for them as usual?"            "To the best of my abilities," said the old man.  He eyed Isteban. "And what of you, my young friend? How have you been? Have you heard from your family?"            "I've no kin left on my mother's side," said Isteban. "Not any more. The last branch of the family that I knew of died earlier this year."            "The war?"            "No," said Isteban. "More natural causes than war."            "And . . . your father?" asked the old man, carefully.            "He keeps his distance, as I've asked," said Isteban. He considered his glass. "But I find myself drawn into his sphere, despite my best efforts."            "Ah." The old man frowned and puffed gently on his pipe for a moment. "What's happened?"            "A debt has been called in by the Regent of Fallen Baramir."            "Lukas Swann? He's always been a bit of a rascal, but he's a good man. Overall."            Isteban grunted. "He sent a letter earlier this year, asking me to return to the city and marshal its forces. The armies of the west will gather there this spring, to march on Calhorne and the Draconic Empire before summer."            The old man frowned. "I . . .  would not be so sure of that, my young friend."            Isteban studied his friend. "You have news?"            "I travel the length and breadth of Lore this night, not just western Nur. And I know things."            "Are these the sort of things you can speak about?"            "No confidences will be broken," said the old man. "But, bear in mind, what I'm about to tell you is not common knowledge."            "What is it?"            "The war may end before spring.  The Draconic Empire is troubled."            Isteban leaned forward, studying the  old man's face.  "What do you mean?"            "Things haven't been right in the empire for some time, but no one has spoken about it. At least, no one of importance. But that's changed. The invasion of the west has cost the empire the favor of the gods and the goodwill of their allies.  You must be aware of that, living here."            "I've heard rumblings," admitted Isteban, "but nothing concrete."            "Well, my boy, it's causing more than rumblings in the empire. There are public protests in the streets of Kargoth-Denn. The citizens are questioning the fitness of the Chosen Emperor to rule."            "Are you suggesting that the Chosen Emperor could be forced to abdicate?"            The old man fixed Isteban with a cool gaze. "You know better than that. Chosen Emperors don't abdicate. They die or get removed."            "Civil war? In the empire?"            "Not likely," said the old man. "Nothing so violent. More like a palace coup. Knives in the dark. Poison in the cup.  That sort of thing."            Isteban shook his head. "It's hard to believe things are that bad over there."            "People tend to act when gods make their displeasure known. And there has been something festering at the heart of the empire for some time.  Something sinister and dark."            The tone in the old man's voice made Isteban uneasy. "Something diabolical?"            "I hope not. But there is a familiar stink to all of this. At least, to me."            "Even if the empire is sorting themselves out at home, I don't think it will have any effect on things here," admitted Isteban. "People want to go to war. They want vengeance."            "Revenge is a fool's game," the old man said, bluntly.            "We know that, but we've both lived very long lives.  Most people don't have that luxury."            "True." The old man shifted in his chair. "So, what will you do? Will you go to Fallen Baramir? Answer the Regent's call?"            "I do owe the city a debt. I'd like to wipe the slate clean."            "Even if it means going back to war?"            "I'll return to it one day," said Isteban. "It's inevitable. I am my father's child. War is in my blood and bones."            "True, but there are many ways to wage war, Perra. Remember that."            Isteban smiled. "So you do remember my name."            "I remember the names of everyone I visit this night," admitted the old man.  "Do you remember being him? Being Perra?"            "Vaguely. Like the memory of a dream. But every year Perra fades more and more and soon I won't remember being him at all."            "No," said the old man. "You will always be Perra. You just need to hold onto him."            "And how do I do that, old friend?"            "With a little help."            The Lamplighter bent and picked up his black bag.  He reached into it and drew out a rectangular picture. Even in the dim light of the kitchen, the picture's wooden frame gleamed.  The old man passed it to Isteban.            Isteban studied the picture. It was a miniature painting, done in oils, by a fine hand. The subjects of the painting were a woman and a young boy. Mother and son. Both had reddish-gold hair and pale green eyes, but where the boy was pale as moonlight, his mother had skin like dark honey.  The woman was smiling at the boy,  who smiled back at her.            Isteban looked at the picture and felt like he had been kicked in the chest by a mule.             "Where did you get this?" he asked, softly.            "Do you like it?"            "It's . . ."  Isteban hesitated.  He didn't trust himself to speak for a moment. "I'd almost forgotten what she looked like."            "Your mother was a handsome woman. She doted on you. You know that, right?"            Isteban nodded, was aware of the unfamiliar sensation of tears welling up in his eyes as he studied the picture.            "I know. Thank you, Lamplighter."            The old man nodded and took a final suck off his pipe, before tapping its ashes into the fireplace.            "Well, the night's fading and I've my own home to get to before the dawn."            He stood and stretched, joints popping.            "It was good to see you again, lad."            Isteban stood and carefully put the portrait aside.  "And you, old man."            They embraced and the old man hugged Isteban so hard that the younger man thought his back might crack. But he didn't complain. He simply returned the hug.            "Shall I walk you out?"            The old man laughed. "I'm sure I can find my own way. Happy Midwinter, my boy."            "Happy Midwinter, old friend."            With that, the old man tossed his bag over his shoulder and, with a smile, stepped back into the shadows and seemed to vanish.            Isteban didn't bother trying to spot the Lamplighter. The old man had been doing this for centuries.  If he didn't want to be seen or heard, he wasn't going to be.            Instead, Isteban picked up the picture and sat by the fire.  He studied the faces of the woman and child, memories flooding back to him of other Midwinter holidays, of a life he had almost forgotten.  He remembered snowball fights, the death of his first dog, the time he'd gashed his knee open while playing in the garden, the times his mother had sat by his bed and sung him to sleep.            Had he really forgotten so much?  He shook his head and made his way upstairs, to his bedroom.  Carefully, he placed the framed picture on his bedside table, then walked to the window. He unlocked the shutters and pushed them open.            The misty rain had stopped.  The clouds had parted. Pale moonlight painted the world in silver.  He smelt wood smoke and saw the distant glow of watchfires around the city, as folk waited for the long night to end and the light to return.            Suddenly, Isteban Mirelle did not want to be alone in his home, sitting in the dark.  He wanted to be out there, on the streets of the city, among the people.  It was like a hunger, this sudden need for companionship, for human contact.            The irony of that did not escape him and he chuckled as he drew on a thick winter cloak.            He would find a tavern, he decided, and buy a round of drinks for everyone there. Afterwards, he would walk to one of the watchfires and sit and keep vigil until sunrise with other people.  When the new day dawned, he would make his way to the Temple of Sumet and offer a prayer to the God of War.            After all, Midwinter Day was a time for family, and he wasn't just the son of a loving mother.  He was a Child of War.  It was inevitable that he would return to his father's house some day.  The time felt right for this to happen.            Yes, thought Isteban. I will go to my father's house and I will offer him a prayer for peace.  I'm sure it will amuse him if nothing else.            Smiling, Isteban Mirelle descended the stairs of his house and walked out, into the long night and the promise of a brighter tomorrow.