Ortus Tatravellan
Truestone Consul
A particularly obstinate member of the Alarith temple in Ymetrica’s Glib Stretch region, Ortus Tatrevellan has had a hand in securing several Lumineth cities and outposts over his brief 170-year career. More than an unyielding combatant, he also serves as an envoy for the Alarith, establishing contact with mountain spirits and mountain-dwelling mortals in realms beyond Hysh. The Glib Stretch’s Stonemage has recently tasked him with establishing connections in the Heaving Mountains of Ghyran.
Prior to arriving in The Lustrare River Valley, he was renowned in Chamon for establishing an unusual truce between Lumineth prospectors and the Bronzebite Mawtribe who dwell in the region. Shortly after their arrival, the Alarith Stoneguard and Mawtribe each developed a grudging respect (or the closest feeling to respect with which an aelf can regard an ogor) for the other’s monumental durability during their initial skirmishes.
After determining it would be impossible to rout the ogors from the area with their current numbers, Ortus approached their immense tyrant Garrul Bronzebitten to establish a mutually-beneficial trade deal. After all, what happens to the corpses and inferior equipment of the human, duardin, or beastman the Lumineth would slay in establishing their new territory would be of little concern to them.
Duty Fractured
“As I’ve told you before, Captain Twicesworn.” Sorrah Nikos’s voice twittered merrily like a birdsong, now that she was at luxury to be her true self. “I need you and yours to bring me back anything you can secure in Furyoth Dell. The board might have changed a...
An intruder in the night
The night was still young when a ghoul-at-arm spotted a figure making its way on a small boat inside the ruins. As it would be the honorable thing to do, Gaston de Heulierplaine would lead his trio of flayers after this would-be thief. Quickly and near silently so as...
Bloodied Reflections
Ka-rokk was quiet for the first time in as long as anyone could remember. No howling, no roaring, no laughing, no fighting. Just silence as he stared down into the newly formed torrent down in a newly formed valley. “Rondhol seeks to prey on you, my master,” Wyrdsquig...