Arandish Calendars and Chronology

One of my players -- the ever-inquisitive player of Innominus the Cleric -- recently emailed me to ask about religious days and calendars in Ara.  An abridged version reads:

I've been thinking about more cleric stuff, and in particular I've been pondering TIME in Ara. One of the most important roles at least for Catholic priests that went on expeditions or campaigns (e.g., crusades in medieval times, and colonial endeavors in the renaissance and later ... and in fact are still engaged in) is recording what the hell the soldiers/explorers did each and what the hell day it was. Most of this, as I understand it at least from Spanish accounts in the new world, would involve knowing what holy day it was and doing the right masses to honor the day's saint or feast, and in fact many of the Spanish place names in New Spain reflect the day that they were encountered by the Spanish, like Easter Island, Santa Cruz, San Jose, San Bernardino, San Francisco, etc. Anyway, they kept track of time, and they were in charge of preserving the souls of these men who were out there trying to capture souls for the glory of God ... and rape and pillage and commit all sorts of atrocities. Basically, outside of probably the officer types, they were the only ones that could read and write. Also, aside from total assholes like this, many other cultures have "day-keeper" types, and this seems like a common clerical duty.
 
Anyway, I'm not in a position to invent hundreds of saints and feasts for Innominus's order, but this made me think: What day is it in Ara? There was an Old Calendar and now we're on a New Calendar. When did that change in Old Calendar years, and what year is it now?

In one of the stories about Awra we see a log tracked in at least two seasons, summer, followed by the season of storms, and it looks like there are 3 28-day months per season. What are the rest of the seasons? Also, is there a solar component, like an extra day to reconcile the lunar calendar (i.e., 13 * 28 = 364)? And leap days or any of that crap?

I think we established that the campaign started sometime in autumn as well.
 
Truthfully, I had never thought about what the other seasons besides summer and the season of storms would be called. Winter? Planting season?  I had also never considered an extra day to reconcile the lunar calendar, nor any leap days. Maybe the elves or the wizard councils have a way of magically keeping the calendar on track? And/or maybe one of those needed extra days would be a major Arandish holiday?

But fortunately, I CAN answer the first part of my player's email, because I DO know about the Old Calendar and the New Calendar.  To this end I have posted a pdf of the Historical Chronology of Ara. A few highlights:

3002-3100: The Old War between Telengard and Achelon.

The Old Calendar ends in Old Calendar year 3101.  The New Calendar begins that same year.

New Calendar 682-719: The legendary Sword-Cleric Silverblade of Noffel finds Gathar and completes many heroic quests.

The current (campaign start) year is New Calendar year 1284.

Of course, I have encouraged Innominus' player to invent away, to start incorporating HIS ideas about Arandish festivals and Innominus' sect's Holy Days into our ongoing Labyrinth Lord campaign.  I look forward with relish to what he might bring in; his email concludes:

You know, after a week and half in Stonehell maybe there's Innominus's version of Christmas and a whole session will be spent finding last minute gifts for the rest of the party ... at great peril to friend and foe alike! It could happen.


Amen.

The Free City of Kaladar

A great center of trade and commerce even before it became an independent free city, Kaladar is known throughout Ara as the place where practically anything can be bought, traded, hired, sold, or stolen.

Kaladar began its existence as an Achelonian Fort called Hragdor, and remained an Achelonian city ruled by the Achelonian Queen until Old Calendar year 3020, eighteen years into the Old War between the Achelonian and Telengardian arcanists.  In 3020, under the leadership of a powerful summoner named Kaladar, Fort Hragdor declared itself a Free City and elected its first Lord Mayor, Farstan the Deadly.  Queen Lossar of Achelon sent a token force to Kaladar to regain control, but the city defenses were impenetrable; Kaladar remained free and declared itself neutral in the Achelon-Telengard War.  At that time it was renamed The Free City of Kaladar and began flying the Kaladarian green dragon flag, in honor of its namesake's well-known tendency to summon that creature in battle. Despite this victory, the Achelonian monarchy did not acknowledge Kaladar’s sovereignty for many more decades.

During the Old War, Fort Hragdor was the site of many bloody magical and non-magical battles; while mostly held by Achelonian forces, Telengardian armies did breach the walls on numerous occasions and even successfully besieged the city for a full two years in 3012-13.  More recently, as a Free City, Kaladar has seen its share of conflict and attempts at capture / siege.  The most notable of these instances, besides the "three week siege" of  New Calendar year 60, was the successful (if temporary) occupation of Kaladar by Achelonian forces under Queen Lossar V starting in New Calendar year 889.  As previously mentioned, the Crimson Blade Balak, Life-Stealer, played a key role in the restoration of Kaladar as a Free City after the Achelonian Occupation of 889-95, becoming the possession of the Achelonian Queen as a condition of the treaty that ended that occupation.

Every accepted form of human magic has at least a small guild within the walls of the Free City of Kaladar.  The Kaladarian magic-user’s Guild, located in the southwestern Dragon's Claw District, is the largest in Ara.  Many practitioners of alternative and even forbidden forms of magic are rumored to dwell and operate within the Free City walls also.

Kaladar has a large and well-trained Royal Guard, probably second only to the Noffellian High Guard in terms of its overall efficacy and reputation for law enforcement excellence.  The Kaladarian Royal Guard's training and reputation, combined with the city's location on an island between two wide, rapid-flowing rivers, makes Kaladar all but impenetrable and unassailable (not that many throughout Kaladar's stormy history haven't tried). There is a governing merchant prince called the Lord Mayor who presides over the affairs of the city and who commands his own elite regiment of the Royal Guard.

Bridges and Ferries
The northern river encircling half of Kaladar is called the King's Ford River, named for an Old War-era Telengardian king, Arkon III, who crossed it in a failed yet extremely valiant attempt to take the city by force.  The southern fork of this river, as it sweeps around the south side of the island upon which Kaladar sits, is called the South Fork River.

There are four heavily guarded gates into the Free City, which sit roughly at (and are named for) the cardinal compass points: East Gate, West Gate, North Gate, and South Gate.  All four gates include drawbridges across the wide rivers to the mainland.  The Endyn Trade Route enters and exits the Free City of Kaladar via the West and East Gates.  The North Gate is the least-used of all the entrances to the city, and is mainly frequented by Kaladarian Royal Guard units as they head in and out on patrols.

A ferry crosses the southern South Fork River.  For a few spring months each year, the South Fork rises and floods Kaladar's south gate and bridge, so this ferry -- which costs 1gp per passenger per one-way crossing -- becomes the only means in and out of the south side of Kaladar.

It is rumored that one can access the lower, underground sewer levels of Kaladar from either the north or south rivers, but the Royal Guard is certainly aware of all such entrances and keeps them consistently patrolled.

Notable Districts
The most opulent dwellings, inns and businesses in Kaladar are located in the center of the city at the top of Lookout Hill.  This centrally located and extremely affluent Lookout Hill district is home to most of the local nobles and officials, including the Lord Mayor's manor and the single most famous (and expensive) inn in the Free City of Kaladar, The Hotel Kaladarian -- see below. 

There is also a rich (if eccentric) neighborhood, the Dragonwing District, along Kaladar's northwest wall.  This is a district largely inhabited by retired Achelonian nobles and affluent wizards of various kinds.

Kaladar's poor mostly live on the south and southeast sides of the city; the south gate and ferry are thought to be particularly useful for bandits and black marketeers, and there is rumored to be an assassin's guild secretly located somewhere in the Free City's southeastern Green Dragon district.

As one might expect, within the walls of the Free City there are at least sixteen different pubs and eating establishments with the words "Green Dragon" in their names, but the most famous one is in the Lord Mayor's District in east-central Kaladar, and is called simply The Green Dragon.  There are also three separate Kaladarian streets with this name, a fact which can create big hassles for non-natives and first-time visitors. 

The North Wall District, in the northeastern quadrant of the Free City, is best-known for the presence of the Arandish Warriors' Guild, and for housing the largest (if not most elite) garrison of the Kaladarian Royal Guard.  Given that this sector of the Free City is overrun by fighting men and mercenaries, it should not be surprising that The Greedy Lion, a famous merc bar in the North Wall District, is rumored to be a place to pick up dangerous and not-quite-legal mercenary and courier work.   

The Hotel Kaladarian
The most famous and expensive inn in the Free City is The Hotel Kaladarian, centrally located atop Lookout Hill in the affluent Lookout Hill district.  The Hotel Kaladarian is built upon the ruins of the Queen of Achelon's former palace, having been constructed there shortly after the signing of the Free Kaladarian Decree of New Calendar year 60. 
Scott Peoples, who created this famous Hotel, centered an entire campaign around it.  The adventure party was hired by the kitchen staff of the Hotel Kaladarian to hunt down and bring back rare monster species for preparation by the Hotel Kaladarian's renowned chef, Escoffier.  Escoffier plans his exotic and highly expensive dishes months in advance, gives a list of needed "monster" ingredients to his chief aide, and that aide (whose name I forget) seeks out adventurers to hunt down the needed creatures.  This is all kept very discreet and quiet, and pays very well.  The party I played with first sought out a sea serpent for one of Escoffier's preparations (the same quest upon which we first met Captain Hokka) and were later set after a wide array of rare and dangerous creatures. 

Sawith, Scribe of Kaladar
Sawith [SAW-with] is the wisest "popular" sage in the entire Lands of Ara; like Captain Hokka of Noffel, Sawith's name is known to almost everyone throughout the Lands.  There may be a few more knowledgable sages in Ara, at least in certain specific subject areas, but Sawith is by far the most popular and well-informed generalist sage.  Sawith inhabits a famous tower and library complex at the foot of Lookout Hill in the Free City of Kaladar.  Those seeking his wisdom must come to him in person, and must be prepared to pay a high price for his services. 

Sawith was originally created by Scott Peoples, and in Scott's Arandish campaigns, Sawith charged 100gp per real-time minute for his services: that is, our party paid 100gp, then had one real-world minute in which to ask Sawith as many questions as could be reasonably asked in that time.  In my own deployment of Sawith the Scribe, I am more inclined to charge by the question, and to adjust the rate based upon the difficulty in obtaining an answer, the obscurity of the subject, and/or the sensitivity / dangerousness of the knowledge sought.  I retain Scott's minimum 100gp buy-in rate -- that's just to get a personal audience with Sawith! -- plus the additional weekly fees given below (much more expensive than the typical "Sage" rates given in Labyrinth Lord):

To obtain an audience with Sawith the Scribe: 100gp
Easy questions: 800gp per week
Moderately difficult questions: 1,000gp per week
Difficult / politically sensitive questions: 1,200gp per week
Seeking incredibly obscure / powerful / forbidden knowledge: 2,000+ per week

I would generally rate Sawith's accuracy as being quite high, especially in the easy and moderate categories (85-90% accurate). In the difficult category, Sawith's accuracy may drop to more like 60-70%, but this is still better than most other sages, whom I would estimate as being only (at best) 50-70% accurate in any but their own extremely specialized area(s) of knowledge.  It is in fact Sawith's atypical "specialization" as an information generalist -- and his accuracy therein -- that has made him so popular throughout Ara.

Typically, parties make an initial appointment with Sawith -- for which they may have to wait many days if he is busy -- and then Sawith takes a few weeks or months to gather research, construct a precis, and meet with the party once again.  Sawith will usually give a cost estimate and charge his estimated fee for the job up-front; sometimes, if the question ends up being more difficult to answer than initially predicted, he asks for additional funds before delivering the precis.  Sawith has a staff of clerks, journeyman sages, and junior researchers, but to this day he still conducts all meetings with in-person clients himself, once an official appointment is made through his scheduling staff.

Arandish Arcana Part I of III – Early History

Arcane and Divine Magic in Ara

Divine magic is assumed to have been around since the earliest days, for humans have always worshiped deities and received healing and other powers from them.  Witches and shamans still practice their own form of tribal clerical magic (see “Tribal Spell Casters,” DMG p. 40) in many remote regions of Ara, and clerics loyal to a wide variety of Arandish and non-Arandish gods proliferate throughout the Lands of Ara.  There is one specialist class of cleric found in Ara, the Sword-Cleric of Frey, which will be described in a forthcoming post.

The origin of Arcane magic in the Arandish region, on the other hand, can be historically pinpointed to one key event: the emergence of arcane powers amongst the Aldors, a tribe of ancient Noffel, in Old Calendar year 294 (see this previous post).  Although the Aldors themselves widely believed their magical abilities came to them through the will of Aldor, Goddess of the Wood, the Aldors’ ability to use magical powers not specifically granted via prayer frightened the other tribes of Noffel, and in time the Aldors migrated from the southern human lands to the northern forests now called Aldoria.  The Aldors have subsequently come to be called elves.

Awra, Arlon, Arlanni
The Noffellians who exiled the Aldors from Noffel were not to be rid of Arcane magic so easily, for around Old Calendar year 2219, a young-seeming woman named Awra came before the Noffellian council of elders and demonstrated that she could generate light spontaneously by speaking a few words aloud.  The members of the Noffellian council were amazed, and took Awra to be an unknowing descendant of the Aldors, though Sawith, Learned Scribe of Kaladar, has recently proven that that lineage is unlikely.  Apparently the council took no action against Awra at this time, and let her return home.

Awra lived most of her early life deep in the Great Western Swamp, and after her initial visit to the Noffellian council, she returned to the Swamp to increase control of her powers and to develop many of the magical arts we know today.  Sixty-five years later, by Old Calendar year 2284, Awra’s presence and activities in the swamp came to the attention of the Noffellian Senate; by this date she was probably over one hundred years old, and she had taken on Arlon and Arel as her two principal apprentices.

As was documented in a previous post, in 2288, escaping persecution by fundamentalist Noffellians, Awra departed Ara on the ship Tarandis, making landfall on the forested island of Suhl in 2289.  During and after Awra’s departure, anti-arcane sentiments and laws ran at an all-time high pitch in Noffel, prompting Awra’s apprentice Arlon to move out of the vicinity of the Great Western Swamp to the north.  It is believed, due to a later entry from Arlon’s journal, that Awra’s other principal apprentice, Arel, remained in the Great Western Swamp to develop and teach her own style of magic-use called White Path, an arcane art now considered lost.

By Old Calendar year 2331, Arlon resurfaced in northern Ara and began teaching the arcane arts, establishing formal schools of magic in Telengard and Achelon by 2342.  Arlon and his associates taught magical theory, spellcasting (magic-using), enchantment, and the basic principles of summoning.  By 2378, Arlon, satisfied that his schools were running well, left them in the hands of his students and retreated into the northern mountains to further his study of summoning and other esoteric arts.

Back in the Great Western Swamp, early in the year 2426, Arel gave birth to her son by Arlon—a son conceived during a visit of Arel’s to the House of Arlon between 2420 and 2425.  When this son was born, Arlon came to Arel’s dwelling in the Swamp and together they named the child Arlanni.  Once he was old enough, Arlanni began learning the Arcane arts from his mother Arel, whom he stayed with in the Swamp.  Arlon returned to the northern mountains

The Old War
The Old War between Telengard and Achelon started in 3002 as powerful magic-users who had learned their craft from Arlon et.al. struggled for magical dominion over northern Ara.  This was to be the most destructive and protracted war in Arandish history; it would last over ninety-seven years, from 3002 until  3100.  In 3098, a small group of  Telengardian magicians, led by a magic-user named Sarkon, set forth to find Arlon in the northern mountains, hoping that the great teacher will be able to help put and end to the war.  Sarkon and comapny found Arlon, and together they returned to the south.  It is believed that Arlon sent word to Arel, requesting her aid as well.  By 3100, with the help of Arel, Arlanni, and Arel’s White Path magicians, Arlon and Sarkon were able to subdue the most powerful Telengardian and Achelonian necromancers and summoners, imprisoning them in a magical tower of Arlon’s creation.  This black tower, called Mornlyn, is rumored to exist in a hidden location in central Achelon to this day.

Having neutralized the ringleaders of the Old War, Arlon established the White Council in 3101, to instill order into the practice of the arcane magical arts in Ara.  Furthermore, at this same time, the New (or Arlonian) Calendar was begun, signifying that the era when atrocities like those of the Old War might occur had passed.  After the establisment of the Council system, Arlon and Arel, the last living apprentices of Awra, set forth on their Last Wanderings.  They are thought to have journeyed together over the northern passes into Novellan, never to be seen again in Ara.

Arlon’s Council system regulates human arcane magic use throughout the Lands of Ara to this day.  Magic-users and enchanters are permitted to join the Council and use magic openly and legitimately in Ara (except perhaps in Noffel), while the Dark arts, including necromancy and shadrach, are outlawed completely (see forthcoming post on forbidden magics).  The original White Council consisted of eight magic-users (including Arlanni) and six enchanters, with Sarkon of Telengard as First Councilman.  In New Calendar Year 610, Sarkon of Telengard died or vanished (the historical records are unclear which), and Arlanni took over as First Councilman of the Arandish White Council, a position he holds to this day. 

Next installment: The Council System of Ara!

Pre-History of Noffel pt. V of V

by Sawith, Chief Scribe of Kaladar

The Legend of the Crimson Blades Part II

Excerpted from the journal of Dagbar Karibekian, captain of the Tarandis

Old Calendar year 2288

[Karibekian's journal continues. . . ]

First moon of the storms, day sixteen.
I awakened in my cabin. The sun was already up, and the cabin was stuffy. I leaped nimbly out of bed.
My feet on the wooden decking looked and felt smaller than before. I keep a small piece of brass in my cabin that can be used as a looking glass. Taking it out and looking into it, I found myself staring at a rodent-like face: elongated snout, small pointed ears, fine hairs, and large, wiry whiskers. Only my eyes were the same as before.
Now I fully understood why Olrath had been watching the rats. He saw that they were survivors, immune to the red death.
I put away the piece of brass and bounded out of my cabin. Of habit I ducked at the bulkhead, and yet I was shorter than before, by a whole head. I was lighter on my feet as well. I climbed above decks, eager to see my crew.
I emerged into a warm day, patches of gray clouds dancing round the sun, strong winds. Some of the crew were there, and I spoke with them and we looked each other over. Strangely, I could still recognize each person, despite the change in his or her physical features. Alara, the helmsman's second mate, approached me and asked what we were going to do now. "Sail!" I replied, and rang the ship's bell. My newly reborn crew appeared on deck; of Olrath there was no sign.
"Hear this!" I shouted, "Brave sailors of the Tarandis, we have escaped the red death, and have been reborn. This is only the beginning! Once we complete this voyage, we shall return to Noffel, where I shall commission a new ship to be built, one that better suits our new shape and size, and we shall fearlessly sail these waters as we always have!" There were cheers and shouts from the crew.
"Our first task, however, is to get Tarandis around the horn and up the west coast. So heave to! Unfurl the sails! Attend the helm!"
The crew acted quickly, and soon we were crawling our way west once again.

First moon of the storms, day twenty.
Still battling the winds of the western sea. I put the oarsmen to work two days ago, but their strength is not what it used to be. Our rebirth has made us more agile, more able to climb in the rigging without mishap, and has even improved my sea legs. We are smaller now though, and not quite as physically strong as before. The fourteen warriors who chose against rebirth stay below decks, avoiding the rest of us, sitting apart at mess. If we do not clear the peninsula within a fortnight, I will give the order to make landfall—to rest, re-provision, and let the warriors go.

Second moon of the storms, day one.
Olrath came out of her berth this morning. She also has been reborn—she appears tired. But she also seems very happy, and she spent the day mingling amongst the crew, asking them all kinds of questions. We owe her our lives. She says, “Our own strength and courage have seen us through.”
I wonder: who is this woman Olrath? A sorceress, yes, but of such great power and ability that I find it hard to believe that I’ve never heard her name before in Noffel. Only one magus I’ve heard of has such power to do what she has done aboard the Tarandis. . .
Just after midday, a storm rose up in fury from the southwest, striking Tarandis like a fist. Before we could trim the sails, the ship was blown back toward the coastline, the main mast cracked. The winds howled, the sea boiled, and sheets of rain and seawater pelted the deck. Two of Baris’ oarsmen, above decks for a smoke, would have been swept over the side had it not been for their rebirth. In their new form they were able to leap into the rigging and save themselves.
Hours passed, and the storm only worsened. In all my years sailing this waterway, I’ve never met a storm like this. It blows us back the way we came, into the east. Tonight we sail tied down to our posts, helpless in the face of the darkness and the storm.

Second moon of the storms, day three.
Mid-morning, the storm has abated, but not before snapping the main mast completely. We will erect the spare mast, but I wonder what good it will do. Land out of sight, and a dead calm has fallen. There are no landmarks and no wind. We are lost.

Second moon of the storms, day seven.
Still no winds. Baris’ oarsmen have been working straight shifts for three days, pushing Tarandis north in search of the continent. But gods know how far the storm blew us, and the oarsmen need rest. Tarandis is frozen in time on a sea of glass.

Second moon of the storms, day eighteen.
Dead calm. No sign of land. I read despair in the faces of the crew. I cannot push the oarsmen any longer.

[Note: Here Captain Karibekian’s log begins to refer to “Olrath” as Awra. Perhaps the captain merely surmised this; perhaps he confronted “Olrath” and was confirmed in his suspicions. The log does not tell. –S.]

Second moon of the storms, day twenty-one.
Tarandis still adrift. This morning I was standing on deck with Awra, and a gray sea bird (which sailors call “Suhl” after its piercing cry) came and landed upon the railing directly in front of me. “Suhl! Suhl!” it cried. This is unusual because normally the birds keep their distance from us, flying around the ship but rarely landing onboard. This one perched there and stared at me. Odd as this may seem, I felt as if it were trying to communicate with me.
Awra noticed this too, for she said, “Captain, it seems your friend here is talking to you.”
“Yes, but what is she saying?” I asked.
Awra replied, “Perhaps she is a guide.”
With another cry of “Suhl!” the gray bird took to the air, flying in a long loop to the northwest, then returning to the rail.
Strange things happen at sea, and I have seen even stranger things on this voyage with Awra. My intuition told me that this little sea bird was indeed a guide of some sort, and was indicating a direction to me. On this impulse, I ordered the helmsman to alter Tarandis' course. We would sail to the northwest.
My guide seemed pleased, and gave me an approving “Suhl! Suhl!” before fluttering up to perch on the bowsprit.

Second moon of the storms, day twenty-six.
We have followed the strange bird for five days now. Late in the day, the watch reported seeing something to the northwest. Land! The oarsmen jumped to, and by nightfall we were within shouting distance. No fires or other signs of habitation. Tomorrow at dawn I send a party ashore.

Third moon of the storms, day one.
The landing party has been away two days, and meanwhile I put the crew to work repairing storm damage and taking stock of the ship’s provisions. After the noon watch today, Lors gave me the quartermaster’s report: enough supplies to last for twenty-eight more days at sea, forty if the crew goes on emergency rations.
As a mariner I have heard tales of vessels that have been caught up in storms and blown out of sight of the mainland. Most of these meet with a grim fate. With no way of knowing our exact location, we must hope that this landfall we have made will give us a familiar sign. It resembles no known feature of the Arandish coast that I have seen, but hope is not lost. I await the landing party’s return.

Third moon of the storms, day fourteen.
We have been so busy in the many days since my last entry that I hardly know where to begin. We have begun to establish a settlement here, and Baris and his men have begun harvesting timber from the island's interior in order to build temporary shelters and craft suitable for fishing. Despite the occasionally threatening weather, our good fortune has held and I feel we will survive to establish more permanent settlements by the time winter season fully arrives.
Awra claims that in time we shall forget our Noffellian roots and come to think of ourselves as Suhlians, after our new island home.
Rogath and his men have expressed their wish to leave us, risking a perilous sea journey on the thin hope of somehow finding their way back to the Arandish mainland. Some of the changed felt resentful upon hearing this, and a duel broke out between one of our Suhlians and a human. The latter, unprepared to defend himself against the superior speed and reflexes of our man, was killed--fortunately the cooler heads on both sides, myself included, were able to intervene and prevent further combat and loss of life. But this bloody denouement only widened the rift between the Noffellians and us, and bolstered their desire to be gone.
At the appointed time (two days ago now) we accompanied them to the jetty, and giving them the two ship's boats from the Tarandis, we bid them our final farewell. Awra proclaimed, "Go forth now, thou thirteen unbelievers, to meet your destiny! I now lay an enchantment upon these boats that they may see you swiftly whither thou will. And I lay upon you a curse of forgetfulness, so that should you reach the mainland, not one among you will remember this place or this voyage. But. . ." here she paused, closing her eyes and drawing in a long breath, ". . . your blades will bear the mark of these events forever."
And lo! dark thunderheads swept the sky surrounding that rocky shoreline and the frantically bobbing sculls. And as the Noffellians climbed aboard their two tiny craft and began to row out into the engulfing, black sea, their thirteen swords--just for an instant, in a sudden flash of lightning--seemed to gleam in the windy darkness, every one the same: a dull, deep crimson.
The two boats rowed out of sight and it is not likely that we shall ever see the Noffellians again.

Pre-History of Noffel pt. IV of V

by Sawith, Chief Scribe of Kaladar

The Voyage of the Tarandis
A few years back, I had the great fortune to visit the island realm of Suhl and obtain a copy of the log of Dagbar Karibekian, the captain of the Tarandis during Awra’s fateful voyage aboard that ship.  This document is of great historical interest and importance, for it records, among other things, the last known encounter with Awra before she disappeared from the face of human (and Suhlian) history. It should be noted that Awra used an assumed name to hire Tarandis and her crew, and it is unclear from Captain Karibekian’s log whether or not Awra ever revealed her true identity. However, in the entry dated “second moon of the storms, day twenty one,” the log begins to refer to the magus as Awra. Perhaps the captain merely surmised this; perhaps he confronted “Olrath” and was confirmed in his suspicions.

What follows are selections from Karibekian’s log.  The translation (from the Old Noffellian) is my own.

Third moon of summer, day six
Still in Jakarta port, refurbishing Tarandis’ helm.  A gray-haired woman approached me dockside today.
“You are Captain Karibekian?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“And your ship is the Tarandis?”
“Yes.”
“I greet you.  My name is Olrath.  I come from Margdar, one of the inland baronies.  I wish to hire your ship and crew for a voyage around the southern peninsula, to the Faerie settlement of Al-Nurna.”
“I can take you as far as New Port—no further,” said I.
“This is acceptable,” said she.
“Eight hundred silvers for me, my ship, and her crew.  I further require you to retain and provision fifty warriors for the duration of the voyage north.  Dangerous seas, dangerous ports.”
“It is done.”
She pulled a worn goatskin satchel from ‘neath her weather-stained cloak, and drew out four gold pieces.
“Half payment now—the rest the day we set sail.”
I took the money, hiding my wonderment.  Gold!  Who was this woman?
“We sail in seven days,” I told her.
“Excellent!” said she.
I watched her as she walked back along the pier in the midday sun, losing sight of her in the wash of fisher-folk and merchants who crowd the waterfront.

Third moon of summer, day thirteen.
Set sail from the port of Jakarta today on voyage commissioned by Olrath of Margdar.  The day is bright and warm; there are strong southerly winds.  We are making good headway today.  I anticipate rounding the southern tip of Rakar’s peninsula in twenty days if all goes well.  Olra seems at ease aboard ship—unusual for an inlander.  She sits in the bow, looking out to sea, hours at a time.  As if she believes she is guiding Tarandis onward.

Third moon of summer, day twenty-eight.
Already the warriors onboard grow restless, eager to be on land again.  But not Olrath.  She divides his time between sitting in the bow, and walking the main deck, watching the crew.  Mealtimes in the galley, she asks them questions and plays card games with them.  She seems interested in learning how Tarandis sails.  She is perceptive and unassuming, and I see many of the crewmen have come to like her.  She is their constant companion.

First moon of the stormy season, day one.
Tarandis made the tip of Komar’s point just before sunset today.  That makes a sixteen-day sail from Jakarta, fastest I’ve ever done.  Winds have been good, an easy time for the oarsmen so far; but they’ll earn their provisions once we round the horn.  The western sea is choppy this time of year, the winds unpredictable.  Oh yes, we’ll all earn our sleep. . . I estimate one hundred sixty days to New Port, if all goes well.

First moon of the stormy season, day two.
My lifelong fear has come true: two days before rounding Rakar’s horn, and the red death is upon us.  Three crewmen are dead. . . six more in quarantine in the third mate’s quarters.  Over the years of my captaincy, in morning prayers to the sea-goddess, I have beseeched her to spare my crew from the terrible agony of the red plague, the sailor’s doom.  She has always heard me, until now.  O Kala, why hast thou brought down your hatred?  What have I done to earn the greatest of horrors?  Let us make offerings!  Take Tarandis if you must!  But spare the crew, and sweep away the red terror that threatens us all! 

First moon of the stormy season, day six.
Seven more dead, and ten more showing the telltale red spots around the throat and eyes.  Everyone is afraid.  The red death has killed larger crews than this in under a fortnight.  Of course many of the men wish to make landfall, but they know as I do that we must stay at sea until the red plague passes or kills all of us.  It is a seagoing plague and no captain has ever violated this code.  To do otherwise would endanger all our brethren on shore.  Some crewmen argue that we are too far south to be near any human settlement, but it is no matter.  We are dead.  We stay our westerly course.

First moon of the stormy season, day eleven.
Four more dead, including two of the warriors.  Baris, the chief oarsman, quarantined today.  In a few more days we will have lost enough crew to make Tarandis unable to sail.  Only the shipboard rats remain unaffected.

First moon of the stormy season, day thirteen.
Our progress is slow—the winds are against us.  Tarandis inches her way west, trying to get clear of the horn.Three more crewmen gone.  Baris still clings stubbornly to life, feverish, his breathing spotty.   Olrath spends most of her time below decks of late. Meeting her in the galley this noontide, I asked her what she was doing. 
She told me, “Observing the rats.”
“The rats?” I asked, finding this curious. 
“Yes,” she replied, “They are were well adapted to life aboard ship, and are fierce survivors as well.  They are immune to this plague which kills your crew.” 
Olrath’s habits are strange, but there is a thoughtfulness and purpose behind them.  What do the rats portend?  Will they be the only survivors of the Tarandis?

First moon of the stormy season, day fourteen.
After the morning meal, Olrath asked my permission to call a meeting of the entire crew.  I rang the ship’s bell, and all gathered around her on deck.  She spoke in a strong, clear voice, saying:
“My companions, it is time to drop pretenses and speak openly together.  Our situation is grave. 
“I am a magus—what you would call a sorceress.  While I know this will turn some of you against me, I feel you must know the truth if we are to act together to save ourselves.  I know a way to deliver you all in good health through our present circumstance.  I will need your cooperation.  I ask you not to succumb to your fears about me.  Having lived aboard ship with me these many weeks, you must know in your hearts that I can be trusted, that I serve the powers of life, and that I am able to help you.  Will you trust me?”
Rogath Silverblade, the most headstrong of the Noffellian warriors, rose in anger, shouting, “How can you be trusted?  You are a master of illusion and trickery, and an Exile!  You do not serve life—only yourself!”
Olrath answered, “By serving myself, I serve life.”
Halek Jannara, Baris’ second man and acting chief oarsman, addressed the crew, saying, “The Enchantress tries to bend us to her will and purposes!  What chance do we have to live anyway?  We can get through this without her help.”
Olrath responded, “Do you believe your own words, Halek?  I offer you help and friendship in a desperate hour.  My power can save all of you, but I will do nothing without your assent.  It is up to you to decide.” 
Jannara sat back upon the railing, unsure.
Next, I spoke:
“Olrath, Exile of Noffel!  As a magician, you have violated the decree of the king by entering Jakarta to hire this ship.  You are an outlaw and an exile.  Your powers may be inspired by evil, or perhaps they are not—I cannot know.
“But as I hear you speak, I find that I believe you.  I think that you can indeed save us from our current peril.  This places me in a difficult position, for now I must choose between everything I have been taught to feel about you, and what my senses tell me now.”
I paused.
There was no sound but the gentle slop of seawater against the wooden hull of Tarandis.  Rogath the swordsman clawed unconsciously at the hilt of his weapon as I took a deep breath.  I faced Olrath, looking into her clear, gray eyes, and said:
“For myself, I choose to trust my own senses, and therefore, to trust you.  I will consent to what you suggest, although my stomach tells me that your plan is both magical in nature, and extremely dangerous.”
“That is so,” she answered.
“Then I cannot speak for my crew in this matter.  Each person must decide for herself or himself.”  Addressing the crew, I said, “Our time is short.  You know what we face.  I, for one, have chosen.  I trust the Enchantress.” 
I came below, leaving the rest of the crew to themselves.

First moon of the stormy season, day fifteen.
By sunset today, all of the sailors (including Baris)and thirty-six of the swords-people aboard Tarandis decided to participate in Olrath’s plan.  Faced with death, they must have found the sorcereress’ confidence and open manner more convincing than their fear of her powers. 
The fourteen remaining warriors, led by Rogath Silverblade, refused to comply with Olra, believing she intends to bewitch or destroy them.  These fourteen locked themselves in their berths below decks and wouldn’t come out. The rest of us met Olrath on deck three hours after moonrise.  The sea was smooth and calm.  No clouds, the moon cast ghostly light over the faces of the magus and the crew.
Olrath spoke:
“Friends, I admire your bravery.  You have felt your fears, passed through them, and now you stand ready to do what must be done to save yourselves, this voyage, and this ship.  Your actions this night are testament to the courage and fortitude of all Noffellians.
“I have already begun my work.  Soon, you will feel sleepy—do not resist this.  When morning comes, you will awaken, feeling different and perhaps
looking different than you do now.  So take this moment to look around at one another, and remember yourselves as you are.  Tomorrow begins a new era in your lives and in your history.”
I did as she advised, looking around me in the silvery moonlight.  I stood next to the helmsman, Geb Ollarson, and turning to face him, I observed his shoulder-length gray hair, his craggy, weathered face, his long, hooked nose, his steady brown eyes.  He looked at me also, and smiled.
“Gods be with ye, Cap’m,” he said to me.
I remember nothing else.

[to be continued here. . . ]

Pre-History of Noffel pt. III of V

by Sawith, Chief Scribe of Kaladar

Awra
Awra may well be the single most influential individual in all of Arandish history.  Yet little is known of the circumstances of her birth or childhood.  History does not reveal the names of her parents nor the name of the particular Noffellian tribe into which she was born.  The year of her birth is commonly thought to lie somewhere between 2180 and 2184, but given the unusual length of her life (over three hundred years) and the lack of available information concerning her early days, even this range is considered speculative.
Awra was the originator of most Arandish arcane magical arts, including spellcasting, rodian Illusion, summoning, and most of the so-called Dark Arts, which were later banned by Awra’s famous apprentice, Arlon.  It is said that there exist many long-forgotten styles of magic that Awra conceived and used in the height of her power, but this, like so many of the stories that surround this person, cannot be conclusively proven.
Awra’s rise to public prominence began in or around the year 2219, the last year of Tandar’s reign as king of Noffel.  This was a turbulent year in Noffellian politics.  Tandar had three children: two sons and one daughter.  All three were beyond adolescence and therefore eligible to rule, but Ormin, who from the earliest days had been a great advisor to the king, felt that the Noffellian people should be empowered to choose their own ruler through a process of election.  Many felt that this was a great idea; but many others adhered to the old tribal way of leadership passing down through family lines.  No historical record shows Tandar as having any particular view on this matter.  If he had, there might not have been so much confusion in the aftermath of his unexpected illness and sudden death in the fall of 2219.
Some historians contend that Ormin poisoned Tandar in order to clear the way for the formation of a Noffellian Senate, a vision that he actualized a little over a decade later. But Tandar was a much-beloved king, and acting as the agent of the popular monarch’s untimely demise would have been an extremely risky and uncharacteristic move for the deliberate, cerebral Ormin.  Far from wishing to further this (likely inconclusive) debate, I merely wish to set the stage for the entrance of our principal character.
Despite the long-passed King Tarandis’ hopes to the contrary, none of his own subjects had ever developed any unusual powers like those possessed by the departed Aldors—until Awra.  In the final days of 2219, the young woman came before the Noffellian council of elders and demonstrated that she could generate light spontaneously by speaking a few words aloud.  The members of the council were of course amazed, and took Awra to be an unknowing descendant of the Aldors (so their written record shows).  However, with Tandar’s recent demise and the question of the succession looming in their minds, the council asked Awra to return to them in a few months, at which time the nature and possible usefulness of her power could be discussed in fuller detail. 
Awra did not appear before the Noffellian tribal council ever again.
It is not for many decades that the name of Awra resurfaces in historical records, in the journal of one Yagbath of Scythmoor, a wise woman who lived a recluse’s life in a cave on the southeastern fringes of the Great Western Swamp.  She writes:

. . . and shortly after mye evening fast, lo! a WOMAN did slog thro the rushes and reeds and appeer at the entry to mye home.  A tall ladye, hare was brown and eyes peercing blue.  Coted with muck from hed to foote, so Iye did invite her to staye and wash hersself, and share mye nighly meal.  She did accept, and stayed with me all that night, and tolde me the most [illegible] . . . that she dwelt in the marshes, and had indeede donne so for many a yeer.  For what purpose, Iye asked she.  Said she, developping mye powers.  Which powers be these, Iye asked she.  And she did chant words, quite of quick, and of an instant Iye myeself did riyse up from the log where Iye sat and flewe through the trees.  Like a batt or other byrd, Iye sweres it so.  When Iye did return agin to the erth, this yung ladye did tell me she could move water also, or shape raw erth with hers minde, or make hersself flye as well.  Who be ye, Iye asked she, in wunderment.  Said she, mye name is Owra.

Though no recognizable dates are given in Yagbath’s journal, it can be determined from other textual references that this entry was probably written in the late summer or early fall of the year 2265.  Though many scholars and most elementalists maintain that this journal entry does not prove that Awra was an elementalist -- Yagbath does not report seeing Awra perform elementalist feats, only hearing her claim to be able to manipulate water and earth -- I am inclined to believe that she had at least begun work in this field, and was probably a master spellcaster by this date as well.  We certainly know that by the year 2284, when the Noffellian Senate became aware of Awra’s presence, she had fully developed the arts of spellcasting and enchantment, plus who knows how many other minor powers and abilities.
It is also certain that by 2284, Arlon was apprenticed to Awra and was living with her in the swamps.  Though Arlon would not begin his own journal until 2286, a report submitted to the Senate by scout captain Bandos, who led an expedition into the Great Western Swamp in 2284, tells us:

. . . we found a hermit calling himself Awra, living in a hovel at the south edge of the swamp.  With him were a few young women and men, all called him ‘master’ and behaved solemnly in his presence.  All of these persons—Awra included—appeared to be in good health (bodily and mentally), and living here of their own will.  After filling our water skins, we left them.

The gender of the pronouns used in Bandos’ writing is not ambiguous: the scout definitely believed that Awra was a man.  No historian that I know of has yet been able to offer an adequate explanation for this anomalous report—but the name he used is also unmistakable. 
I surmise that by this point Awra had begun to pass on her knowledge of the magical arts to this select group of young people.  I also believe that had not the Senate chosen to call her into their presence to explain her activities to them, she might have continued training people in seclusion for many years, and never have come into direct conflict with the government and people of Noffel.  But call her they did, and in early 2286, she appeared before the Senate and the king.  It is believed that Arlon was with her at this fateful meeting, though not Arel, the First One’s other famous disciple.
At this time the King of Noffel was Karldoc, a born warrior (and not to be confused with Prince Karldoc the Mad, of our own era).  Karldoc was renowned for his boldness in battle, his quick temper, and his deadly prowess with a sword.

[Continue to Part IV]

Pre-History of Noffel pt. II of V

by Sawith, Chief Scribe of Kaladar

Tarandis Forges Iron
Noffel’s status as chief of the Zapars was passed on to his son, Marak, and then to Marak’s eldest son, Boros, and so on to Boros’ eldest daughter Arwas.  Fourteen more generations passed between the chiefdom of Arwas and the chiefdom of Hara the Wise.  From Hara the chiefdom passed to Hara’s third son Donok, from Donok to Donok’s eldest son Paro, to Paro’s second son, Arwos, and so on to Arwos’ eldest daughter, an able and compassionate woman called Bara.  Bara herself had no husband and no children, so upon her reaching elderhood, the leadership of the tribe passed to a nominee of the tribal council, a young man named Tarandis.  Tarandis was brave, outspoken, and highly intelligent.  He honored the old ways, but inwardly he longed to see change for his tribe.  The Zapars by this time numbered in the several thousands; the year was 871.
In the long years since Noffel’s visit to the village of the Aldors, the people of the Lady of the Wood had been granted many more blessings.  By the year of Tarandis’ being named chief of the Zapars, two in three Aldors was born with some sort of magical ability.  Some could heal wounds; some could fly; others could speak to the spirits of the trees; still others could conjure flames or light.  The Aldors still honored the old pact between Lumar and Noffel, and they never used their powers boastfully or with pride, or to get the better of someone from a different tribe.  They used their blessings to heal themselves and to honor their connection with Aldor, the Lady of the Wood.
There were many amongst the Zapars and other neighboring tribes who were envious of the fact that Aldor seemed to be making her people so powerful; and over the centuries this envy turned to anger and fear.  But they knew of the old pact between Noffel and Lumar, and kept their feelings to themselves, boiling inwardly.
Tarandis, meanwhile, was keenly interested in Noffel’s boyhood discovery.  The lump of heavy, gray ore that the long-passed chief had kept near him all his life, now resided in the Zapar tribe’s hall of artifacts, watched over by the shaman, Barru.  Tarandis frequently discussed his feelings about the significance of the lump of metal with Barru.  A few years into his chiefdom, he conceived a plan. 
The young chief sent groups of able-bodied Zapars into the hills to seek out more of the mysterious ore.  He also asked Barru to gather together tribes-people of intelligence and creativity, to serve as an investigative team.  Tarandis wanted the ore tested in every conceivable way: burned, buried, submerged in water, drenched in fish oil, smashed, chopped, and prayed over.  The chief had a strong feeling about the strange ore, but he did not yet know its exact significance.
Two years passed by, then five, ten, fifteen.  The testing of the ore went on, to no avail.  The ore was very strong, resisting breakage or shaping of any kind, even when exposed to flame.
Then, in the beginning of 889, at the Feast of the New Year, a great discovery was made.  The tradition at this feast was to bake an entire school of sunfish in a large, underground pit, lined with hot river rocks and kept burning for three straight days prior to feasting day.  By this time, Tarandis had all but given up on his quest for the meaning of the ore, but he persuaded Barru to place some hunks of the ore into the baking pit with the river rocks.  This was done, and on the third day, lo! the ore glowed orange-white, and when beaten with heavy stones it could be shaped and made into implements!  That year, the Feast of the New Year honored more than the bounties of the past season; it also celebrated this wondrous new discovery.  Many speeches were made and songs were sung, praising the name of Noffel, the legendary chief who found the ore, and Tarandis, the bold young chief who found its purpose.
Now by this time, the settlements of the Zapars were spread over a much larger region than in chief Noffel’s day.  Their villages extended well into the very hills that Noffel’s father had warned him away from as a boy.  The Zapar people dwelling in these hills were sometimes attacked and killed by trolls, the great bipedal monsters that roamed the highlands.  The Zapars were peaceful people and had little defense against these attacks; most accepted them as an unalterable truth of their lives.  But the discovery of this new metal, which came to be known as iron, led some of the hill dwellers to realize that a defense against the trolls was now a possibility.  For iron, unlike stone or even kapar, could hold its shape (and an edge) once cooled, and was much harder than any other substance known to the Zapars.  In short, weapons could be forged out of iron that would hold up against the rock-like skin of the trolls.
So a group of hill people went to chief Tarandis, asking that bladed weapons be made out of the iron, so that the highland Zapars might repel the attacks of the trolls.  According to the etched records of the time, Tarandis and the tribal elders sat in council for “many days” discussing this issue, for weapons, other than spears with which to hunt and fish, had never been a part of their lives before.
In the end, the fear and insistence of his people must have swayed Tarandis, for late that year, the weapons were made: long, straight, double-edged weapons called swords.
It appears that the swords were effective against the encroaching trolls, and the hill-dwelling Zapars were able to cast back the shadow of fear that had haunted them for so long.
However, there were others amongst the Zapars who saw that these powerful new weapons could be put to an entirely different purpose.

Hasc’s Massacre and the Sundering of the Aldors
One night in the winter of 896, a group of Zapars led by a man named Hasc journeyed to the village of Nurna, the forest home of the Aldors.  These Zapars brought swords, and their intent was to show the Aldors their own power, and cast out their own fears by throwing fear into their neighbors.  But these were ignorant people who did not see that fear only breeds more fear—and feelings even more destructive. 
Hasc’s group came upon the sleeping village an hour before daybreak, and Hasc said:
“Let us wait until dawn to show ourselves.  Their sorcery is worse by the light of the moon.”
His companions agreed.  But shortly before sunrise, a Nurnan villager out walking before his daily work came upon the Zapars’ hiding place unknowingly, startling one of the men.  A sword was drawn and swung in a rush, and in the space of a second, the Nurnan villager lay mortally wounded, crying out in agony on the forest floor.  This drew other Aldors from their beds, and threw the entire Zapar group into a state of panic.  Believing that they were under attack from Aldor sorcerers, Hasc and his company charged out of their hiding place with swords swinging.  Many Aldors fled, or were cut down where they stood in shocked silence, but many others, hearing the anguished screams of their friend, charged into the midst of the fray, seeing too late the deadly iron blades the strangers carried.
By sunrise, many Aldors were injured or dead, and the party of Zapars led by Hasc was hastening on its way back down the trail home.  Who can know what those Zapars felt?  Shame?  Fear?  Triumph?  Remorse?  No record shows.
Chief Tarandis learned of the massacre early the next day, and was filled with anguish.  For despite his own ambivalence toward the Aldors, he never wished them harm, and had been willing to uphold the pact established by Noffel and Lumar so long as it did not hurt his own people.  Perhaps he was angry with himself for getting so involved with the forging of iron implements that he never saw how they could be put to such terrible use.  Worse yet, this bloody act had been committed by his own people, without his knowing or even suspecting that it was going to occur.  He felt foolish and horrified.
He set off the next day for the village of the Aldors, taking with him his advisor and friend, Sardan.  Sardan distrusted the Aldors and their sorceries, and felt that things would go better for the Zapars if the Aldors left the region altogether.  Tarandis knew of his friend’s feelings on this matter, but hoped that reconciliation between the two tribes could be affected.
Two days later, Tarandis entered the forest village of Nurna with a heavy heart.  He saw the smoldering remains of the funeral pyre where the Aldorian dead had been cremated, and he wept with remorse and sorrow.  He came before the chief of the village, Uluk, and kneeling before him, said:
“O chief of the Aldors, my kinsman!  How I am filled with shame and sorrow at the sight of these pyres!  How I am chilled to the core by the terrible doings of my people, and now I come before you to beg forgiveness and find a path to renewed peace and amity between our tribes.”
Uluk, whose broad face was filled with pain, replied:
“Tarandis, I know this was not your doing.  I know that these deeds were done by those among your people who fear our unique powers, and that not all Zapars are of this mind.  However, the Aldorian council of elders has convened and decided that our beloved forest of Nurna is not a safe haven for us any longer.”  The chief looked around him at the ancient trees, whose spindly winter branches trembled in the weak afternoon sunlight, pointing accusing wooden fingers at the smoldering pyres.  In this moment, Uluk remembered the forest as it appeared in summer, when the bright green leaves shimmered in the breeze, seeming to glow in the warm, translucent light of a summer’s day.  His eyes welled with tears, and he said, “Aldor has spoken to our wise people.  She has told us that we must go.  We Aldors must leave Nurna and seek a new home.”
Sardan, excited and pleased by this news, stated:
“Your elders are truly wise in this, Uluk.  Your staying here can only lead to more fear and death.”
Bitterly disappointed by Uluk’s declaration and by the indifference of his friend, chief Tarandis cried out, “Why must you go, Uluk?  Could we not learn to live again as friends, and thus strengthen both of our tribes?  Perhaps, in time, my own people will gain powers as your people have.  Meanwhile, if we work together, we can build understanding and tolerance.  Will your people consider staying?”
Uluk shook his head sadly, and took Tarandis’ hand, saying:
“Rise, my friend.  You have done all you can.  For my own part, I will do what I can to prevent my people from harboring feelings of hate toward you and your tribes-people.  It will not be easy.  We will not stay.  Our elders have spoken.  Now I must prepare my family for our great journey.  May Zapar guide you—fare well.”
Uluk left them.  Tarandis and Sardan hiked back to their own village in the hills overlooking the sea we now call the Bay of Noffel. 
Four days later, the Aldors left Nurna forever.  All they left behind were vacant huts and a wooden marker made up of several intertwined branches, marking the place where the funeral pyres burned.

The Coronation of Tarandis
It is through the journals of Tarkas son of Sardan that we of the contemporary era know the true story of the sundering of the Aldors and the subsequent crowning of Tarandis as the first monarch of Noffel.  Until these journals came to the attention of modern historical scholars, the common belief was that Tarandis himself took up arms and drove the Aldors out of Noffel, using this event to propel himself to the kingship of the newly unified tribes.  As we have already seen, the truth of the matter is quite otherwise.
In the years following Hasc’s massacre and the departure of the Aldors, Tarandis’ popularity grew, not just among his own people, but also amongst those of other smaller tribes who had feared the Aldors and were pleased to see them depart.  Sardan himself did much to encourage the feeling that Tarandis had been responsible for protecting the remaining tribes against the threat of the sorcerous Aldors, and to turn this feeling toward his own ends.
By the year 899 or 900, the hill troll tribes of the southern plains had begun to venture far enough north and west of their own lands to pose a threat to the people of the al-darma.  Hill trolls delight in the taste of human flesh, and with the Minochian people having vanished in the so-called Catastrophe of 787, there was nothing to come between these deadly creatures and the Noffellian tribespeople. 
As more and more members of the al-darma lost their lives to raiding hill trolls throughout 900 and 901, Tarandis Chief of the Zapars commanded his people to manufacture more iron swords with which to defend their lands.  These swords he distributed to able-bodied fighters in all the tribes of the al-darma, not just the Zapars. 
So armed, the tribespeople were able to drive the hill trolls back into the east, and few forgot that it was Chief Tarandis who had provided them with the means for their defense.
In the early months of the year 902, a great convocation of all the chiefs and elders was held in Tarandis’ village.  Sardan organized this meeting, having won the support of many of the smaller tribal leaders.  His intent was to unite all the tribes of the region into a single body, with Tarandis as its supreme leader.  On the one hand, this was a wise choice—Tarandis is known to history as a strong king who held the fledgling kingdom of Noffel together through its earliest, turmoil-filled years.  However, it is also true that Tarandis’ rise to power elevated Sardan’s position as well.
How Tarandis felt during this time is not known to history.  Neither Tarandis nor any of his direct descendants kept any journal or records we yet know of.  All we know is that in the late summer of 902, at the decision of the elders and chiefs of the unified tribes, all the land between the Frey Mountains and the westernmost edge of the sea (Bay of Noffel) was named the Kingdom of Noffel, with Tarandis its king.  Sardan remained Tarandis’ chief advisor and close friend through all the days of his kingship.  Yet Tarkas’ journal sheds very little light on this period of history.  So rather than retread ground which has already been adeptly covered by other scholars, I will forego an account of King Tarandis’ sixteen-year reign and proceed instead to the topic most significant to the history of Ara as a whole: the birth of the arch-sorceress Awra. 

[Continue to Part III]

Pre-History of Noffel pt. I of V

by Sawith, Chief Scribe of Kaladar

How It Began
To tell the story of the human settlement of Ara, one must begin in the region we call Noffel, more than three millennia ago.
Noffel is a land of rolling hills and warm sun, nestled between the steep Frey Mountains on the northeast, the Great Swamp on the north and west, and the Bay of Noffel to the south.  The first people to settle here may have originated from the southern peninsula of Rakar, though that is uncertain.  What is certain is that by the time these people began recording their own history, in the first year of what we call the Old Noffellian calendar, they had already lived here for at least fourteen generations.
From their earliest beginnings, these people fished.  The Bay of Noffel (called narna in their language) yielded a bounty of sunfish and saltwater flatfish, and the early people of this area carved small wooden boats (called yaks) which they paddled out into the bay and fished from.  They were foragers as well, gathering huckleberries, wild grapes, and various roots. 
Their tools, which included woodcarving implements, fish knives, and fishing spears, were made from sharpened stone and wood.  Bark fibers from yaro trees were used to make rope and blankets.
They were tribal people, made up of numerous clans loyal to certain gods, and these clans together made up the larger tribe or al-darma.
The largest clan of the al-darma worshipped Zapar, a swift god of the waters who was believed to have taught the people how to carve yaks. The Zapar clan was peaceful and wise, and was responsible for starting the Old Calendar.  The Zapars were the most numerous tribal group; the clay tablet that bore the original written calendar noted that the Zapar tribe numbered six hundred individuals in year 83.  The next most numerous group, the Kala, numbered only half that many.
In late 124 or early 125, another tribe, the Minars, discovered a new substance in the northern foothills, a substance they called kapar (copper).  Believing this to be sacred wood given to them by their god, the Minar elders decided to dig for more kapar, and were soon making decorative items from the shiny metal.  This impressed many of the lesser tribes, and some began to worship Minar.
The Zapars were skeptical.  Their own tablets refer to a “trap” or “trick” engineered by a mischievous god (Minar) to distract the people of the al-darma from fishing. 
However, the Minars were already moving away from sea fishing, preferring to fish the waters of the Frey River as it sped down from the mountains.  They had also begun to trap and hunt small game in the foothills.  Indeed, as Minar had sent them a gift that could only be found in the highlands, were not the hills more sacred than the sea?
For two generations, the Minars and the Zapars drifted apart, the former venturing further into the mountains in search of kapar, the latter remaining on the coast. 
In or around the year 171, the Minars (and other lesser tribes who followed them) broke completely away from the al-darma led by the Zapars and vanished into the northeastern mountains.  Over the next several generations, the Minars would continue their wanderings in search of kapar, on their way populating areas of present-day Blint, and eventually settling in the great mountains of present-day Minoch.  There, amongst the glacial streams and rivers they had come to love, with a plentiful supply of the ore that was sacred to their god, the Minars made their permanent home.

A New Discovery
One hundred years after the Minars departed, in the summer season of 272, a young boy was exploring the hills along the Frey River, as he often did after the morning’s fishing was done.  He was the son of the chief of the Zapars.  In the custom of the tribe he would be the next chief, unless his younger brother Gorwin proved himself more deserving of the position.  The chief himself was concerned about his oldest boy, for he was inclined to dreaming and adventuring, instead of learning the responsibilities that came with being the chief of his people.
The young boy’s name was Noffel.
Noffel liked to venture deep into the foothills, delving into the caves that were left by the Lost Ones.  He sometimes found shards of old stone tools, or pieces of wood, and once he had even found a tiny disc of precious kapar, the shiny metal that only chiefs were permitted to wear.
What Noffel secretly hoped to discover was some raw kapar ore, the substance that the Lost Ones were supposedly looking for when they dug their tunnels.  Noffel did not know for himself if the Lost Ones were real or imaginary.  But if he found some of their sacred ore, he felt he would have proof that they were real people who had disappeared into the mountains as his grandmother told him.
This day, young Noffel climbed further into the hills than ever before, looking for a particularly promising cave that he had seen before at a distance.  He plodded onward in the afternoon sun, untroubled by the heat and the flies.  He could hear the roaring of the Frey River far away to his right.  Ahead and above him towered the massive peaks of the mighty Frey mountain range.  This range was named for a powerful god, the One Who Sent the Thunder, the same god who was said to have caused the disappearance of the Lost Ones.
Buried deeply in a corner of Noffel’s mind was an image of the huge, bipedal monsters called trolls who roamed the heights of these mountains and ate human beings; the trolls were said to be the servants of Frey.
Noffel emerged from a thicket of wild blackberry, scratched and scarred.  The large cave mouth was before him.  This was, indeed, the largest tunnel he had ever found.  His heart quickened, and he bounded up the slope to the entrance.
The tunnel mouth was more than twice his height, and though the sun shone brightly, ten paces into the cave was total darkness.  Noffel had no light source; candles made of beeswax were precious to the al-darma, there was no way for him to get one.  He explored the caves by feel and smell alone.
Today, before entering, he paused.  Something intangible gripped his heart, and for a moment he stood bewildered.  Why was he here?  Wasn’t this dangerous?  Hadn’t his father discouraged him from coming up here and “wasting time” in these tunnels? He felt fearful and unsure.
A breeze blew across the hills and washed over him, bringing the refreshing coolness and smell of the high mountains.  Noffel came back into the present and saw the cave in front of him.  He looked around him, closed his eyes, and stepped forward.
He counted his footsteps into the tunnel, and when he felt sure he was far enough
inside to be completely enshrouded in darkness, he opened his eyes.
As he expected, vision would be of little use to him here.  He sidestepped left until he felt the side of the tunnel with his outstretched hand.  Touch would be his guide.  He walked cautiously ahead.
Thirty steps into the tunnel, the dirt wall on his left gave way to a side passage, and he decided to take it.  Usually, the smaller side tunnels contained more treasure than the larger main ones.  He kept moving.
One of the reasons that children of his tribe were warned not to enter these caves was because the tribal elders believed that trolls sometimes lived in them.  Noffel knew this, but he had never seen a troll, and did not know if they were real or not.  Noffel felt that sometimes the elders said things that weren’t true in order to make things go their way.
The side tunnel ended in a vertical shaft that led downward into dank blackness.  Now Noffel was unsure.  He had never before encountered a shaft like this one.  How far down did it lead?  What was down there?
He heard his father’s voice inside his mind, warning him to turn back.  Then he heard the voice of his old grandmother, saying, “Know things for yourself, child.  That’s how you become a chief.”
He decided.  Turning around to face the way he had come, he squatted, inched his feet over the edge, and slid down into the darkness. 
Young Noffel did not come back to the village that night, or all the next day.  His mother, the chief’s wife, grew worried.  Noffel had been out all night before, but had always returned in time to help her husband with the yak in early morning.  Perhaps the boy was hurt or in danger.
Noffel’s father was concerned as well, and said, “If he does not come back tonight, we will go and search for him tomorrow, after the morning’s fishing.”
Noffel did not return that night.  The next afternoon, some of the men and women of the village, led by the chief, searched the hills and tunnels on both sides of the Frey River.  They found no sign of Noffel.  As the sun lowered in the west, the search party returned to the village.  The chief said, “We will search again tomorrow.  If we do not find him, then I will burn a candle for my oldest son.”  Burning a candle was the ritual marking the passage into the next world.
Noffel did not return the next day, so again the chief set out for the hills with a group of able-bodied men and women from the village. 
As they left, Noffel’s younger brother, Gorwin, emerged from the hut where they lived, saying to his father, “Let me go with you today.  I have seen the places where Noffel goes.  I have followed him before, without his knowing.”
Though he was tempted to be angry with his son for sneaking off to the same places he had warned Noffel against, the chief was wise enough to see that his youngest son meant to be helpful, so he replied, “Yes, come with us.  This will be our last day of searching.”
They ventured into the hills.  The afternoon sun glared down on them; there was no wind that day.  They spread apart, calling for Noffel occasionally, but mostly remaining silent so they could listen for signs of the lost boy.
None of the adults knew about the large cave further up in the hills, but Gorwin had seen it before, and knew that Noffel had seen it too.  He made his way toward its location.
Gorwin was nine years old, two years younger than Noffel, and he was a perceptive young boy.  As he approached the area of the large tunnel, he noticed disturbances in the brambles there that could have been made by his brother.  His heart quickened.  He crawled through the blackberries and beheld the cave.
There, in the dusky light just inside the entrance, lay Noffel.  Gorwin ran up the slope to him, and found his brother alive, but unconscious.  Gorwin shouted for his father, and in a short while, the chief came bolting up the slope, scratched and cut by brambles, eyes aflame.  He took in both his sons, saw that his oldest was alive, and he threw his arms heavenward, crying, “O mighty Frey!  From this moment on, I promise to honor you alongside Zapar, to thank you for sparing my son!”
The chief carried Noffel down the hill, returning him to the hut where his mother and grandmother waited.  The chief told them all with great pride of Gorwin’s deeds.  He was so overcome by mixed feelings of joy, anger, and relief that he did not notice the hard, gray, unusually heavy lump of ore clenched in Noffel’s sleeping hand.

Blessings
Noffel was not destined to witness in the flesh the far-reaching effects of his discovery.  However, as the years passed, and his father grew into elderhood, Noffel himself became a strong chief, much loved by his people, firm and decisive but with an open heart.  The Zapars flourished, carving ceremonial yaks of great intricacy and beauty.  The sunfish were plentiful.  Many attributed the glory of these years to the benevolence of the god Frey, whom the tribe now held sacred alongside Zapar.
Chief Noffel kept the gray lump of metal wrapped in a rabbit skin on a pedestal next to the Place of Judgment.  When tribespeople came to him to intervene in their disputes, Noffel would finger the heavy object as he considered his decisions.  It made him feel grounded and strong.  It reminded him of the wisdom of his grandmother, who years before had passed to the other side.
In the year 294, Noffel’s fifth year as chief of the Zapars, unusual things began to happen in one of the outlying villages.  A young man named Salnod discovered that he was able to cause his own body to float high in the air when the full moon shone.  During the new moon, Salnod could lay his hands upon ailing persons and cure their pain.  And his sister, Aldora, had strange powers as well: she could fly between the high treetops, and create warm light to shine in the darkness.
When tales of these wonders reached the coastal villages of the Zapars, Chief Noffel felt called to journey into the hills to meet Salnod and Aldora.  Leaving his eldest son, Garnok, to tend to the family's fishing and settle disputes in his absence, Noffel set out toward the remote wooded village of Nurna.  After two days' laborious hiking, he reached Nurna, and was greeted warmly by the villagers.  They climbed trees and called out to him as he strode down the trail that led to the Clearing. 
The people of Nurna worshiped Aldor, the goddess of the wood, and they did not fish except in the nearby Frey river.  They had their own chief, Lumar, who happened to be Salnod and Aldora's uncle.  Lumar and Noffel knew each other well and greeted each other as friends.
“Lumar,” said Noffel, “I have come to see with my own eyes the new, wondrous things I hear about your people.  Am I so permitted?”
“Of course,” replied Lumar, “But first, we must share a meal together!”
With that, the two chiefs proceeded to the Clearing, the great meeting-place and feasting-place of the tribe.  And there was a great table already set out, with fruits, berries, nuts, river-fish, rabbit, and wooden pitchers brimming with ale and water.  They seated themselves on the soft grass at either end of the long table, and were joined by a great number of tribes-people, including young Salnod and his sister, Aldora.  They feasted and talked as the children played games around (and under) the huge feast table.
By the time the eating and merry-making had made way for quiet contemplation and subdued talk, the sun was low in the sky, and red-golden beams slanted down between the trunks of the great trees.  At this time, the chief Lumar raised his arms, and the table grew silent.  He said:
“Our friend, chief Noffel of the Zapar people, is here to bear witness to the new blessings which have descended upon my niece and nephew.  Let us share these wonders with our kinsman!”
He called the two youths forward, and they knelt beside their uncle.  Like most Aldors, Salnod and Aldora were fair-skinned and delicate of feature, with bright blue or green eyes and a tendency to be slightly taller than their Zapar cousins.  Even young Salnod stood nearly as tall as chief Noffel himself.  Lumar spoke:
“Aldora, let us begin with you.  Show us your blessing.”
The girl Aldora closed her eyes and seemed to slow her breathing.  Then, to the wonderment of the Zapar chief, she floated up off the ground, rising straight up until she was as high as the tallest treetops.  Once at that dizzying height, she began to glide from tree to tree, soaring as gracefully as any bird.  After a few moments of this, she stopped again in midair, then slowly descended to earth, in a straight line, and knelt beside her uncle once again.
At that moment, the sun set, and shortly, the light of the full moon gleamed down into the trees and the Clearing.  Lumar gestured to Salnod, and the young man nodded.  Up he sprang, and in seconds, he was high in the air, soaring up above even the tallest trees.  He flew so high that, to the onlookers below, he could have been nothing more than a lone bat in the twilit sky, or a distant bird of prey.
In time, he also returned to sit beside his uncle and chief.  Lumar then said to Noffel, “You have now seen these wonders that the Lady of the Wood has seen fit to bestow upon my people.  What are your thoughts, my kinsman and friend?”
Noffel replied, “I am amazed and pleased at what I have seen.  Your people are deserving of such godly gifts!
“However, my own people have received no such gifts as of yet, and I see the possibility that they will become envious of your people and their powers.  So my suggestion to you, wise Lumar, is to keep these powers to yourselves.  Use them, yes, to glorify beautiful Aldor and to serve your own people, but do not become boastful or over-proud of your newfound blessings.  And I, for my part, will work to make my own people understand that these abilities of yours are not to be feared or begrudged, but praised.”
And Lumar said, “Thank you, Noffel, for your compassion and wisdom.  We Aldors shall not abuse the blessings we have been given, and we thank you for your pledge to keep peace and friendship between our peoples.”  At this, the Aldors gave cries of assent, loudly praising the wisdom of both chiefs.
Noffel set off for his own village the next morning, and for all of his many remaining days, he kept his promise to the Aldors.  It is a testament to the strength of Noffel’s convictions, and the love the Zapars had for him, that the peace between these two tribes lasted for so many generations after his death.

[Continue to Part II]