As I sit in the office I share with Iorwenn, my fellow kinswoman of Eleusis, I hear her scribbling away madly on her parchment. Scritch. Scritch. Scritch. I look out the window as dusk begins to descend, painting the winter sky with colors of blood. Although the pine furniture smells good and the fire warms my skin, the troubles of the small town of Eleusis just begins.
"What do you think, Fedora?" Iorwenn asks me, handing me the crisp parchment with her crabbed writing.
Iorwenn shuffles papers nervously at her desk, and I ignore the fact that my presence frightens her at times. Before the Great Call, she knew me as the Enchantress of the Green, called upon only in times of great need. Now I am Kinswoman Fedora, residing in Eleusis along with other Champions of Maedhros.
Many months have passed since the Great Call, when the elder god Maedhros Allendil of the Hunt, called forth his Champions -- Balthus Goldeneye and Kardak the Herbalist, both rangers renowned for their knowledge and skill, and Wulfgar who is skilled in many arts but whose profession remains cloaked in secrecy, and myself, Fedora, the Enchantress of the Green. Maedhros Allendil prophesied a great resurgence of evil in the warrens of Goblin Town and, if left unchecked, would spread to all of Avalon, with Eleusis the first to fall. We, his Champions, would protect Eleusis and the surrounding Greenwood from that festering lair of orcs and evil. We would be the first defense against the horde.
But we found Eleusis isolated from the rest of Avalon, her defenses weak, her people uninformed and ignorant of resources needed for her security. Without weapons or food or basic supplies, Eleusis would surely fall if the orcs ever organized and attacked in earnest. Our first step was to open up Eleusis for trade with the rest of Avalon, for which we needed a representative from the Merchants Guild, without whom the network of merchants would be denied us and without whom Eleusis would gain none of the supplies she desperately needed.
And, thus, I find myself now with Kinswoman Iorwenn, desperately trying to win the Merchant Guild's favor. With a snap of my fingers, I summon a sprite to shed light on the parchment Iorwenn has just given me. I read the letter and find it requests a merchant from the Merchant House of faraway Azrili, a request that we both know will never manifest. Iorwenn looks away when I raise my brow, then she furiously begins to scribe yet another missive.
A knock at the office door brings me to my feet, and I let in a messenger from Thakria who hands Iorwenn a letter from the Merchant Guild. There is no rejoicing. Recently, messengers from all of Avalon have been coming to Eleusis, answering the many letters that Iorwenn writes, and all have been the same -- no merchant for Eleusis. The messenger leaves and the door slams shut.
This time, however, Iorwenn gasps when she reads this latest letter. With hands shaking, she reads the letter again and yet again. Looking up at me, tears shine in her eyes.
"What is it, Iorwenn?" I ask, wrapping my arms around her to console her.
"We have an answer finally," she gasps. "The Merchant Guild wants 50,000 gold coins in compensation before they will consider sending us a representative. We cannot pay that. We have failed."
"No, we have not," I say. "If it is gold we need, the Champions of Maedhros will get it for Eleusis."
Although my voice resounds firmly with conviction, in my heart I despair. All of us that received the Great Call were devoted to the wilderness and forests, living off the land and none of us could be called rich. Iorwenn looks up at me hopefully and I pat her warmly, thinking of her and the other villagers who need us more so now than ever.
Later that evening, the Champions of Maedhros meet in the townhall and, as each Champion enters, discarded leaflets flutter about the hall, like autumn leaves blowing in the forest wind. Each leaflet bears Iorwenn's distinct handwriting, beseeching her fellow villagers to help in Eleusis' revival. Balthus Goldeneye returns from scouting outside and inside Goblin Town. Kardak the Herbalist hails from gathering magical herbs. Last is Wulfgar who journeyed to the dark city of Thakria in search of a merchant. As I relate the latest news of the merchant, all are surprised except Wulfgar.
"Of course, I knew," Wulfgar sighs, leaning back on a creaking chair. "I arranged for the deal in Thakria, a hell hole I do not wish to return to. I found the Merchant Guild and they had decided to deny us outright. So, with my usual glib tongue, I managed to arrange for this little deal."
"Little deal?" I screech. "We have no way of coming up with that much gold! It might as well have been a denial!"
"Calm down, Fedora," says Kardak, putting some of the rare herb megillos into a pipe and lighting it, filling the room with its tangy flavor. "It is possible for us to raise 50,000 gold, but we must be patient. The magical herbs I gather ought to be enough to pay for the merchant. All we need is time."
"And there was no time limit imposed on us to raise the gold," adds Wulfgar.
I sigh and look to Balthus Goldeneye who shrugs and winks at me. We both know how long this could take and how little manpower we have.
"There is something else we can do," suggests Balthus. We can destroy Goblin Town now, before the evil that Maedhros foresaw can blossom. If we nip the bud now, no blooms of evil will bother Eleusis."
Kardak nods, but looks troubled, for he does not like to spill blood. Wulfgar strokes his chin and ponders the possibility. With nothing else but foreboding, I lean forward and take the pipe from Kardak and smoke deeply from it. My thoughts clear and troubles vanish.
"We need help," I say. "There are others Champions of Maedhros in the Greenwood who have not yet heard the Great Call. We need them now more than ever. And, although I agree with Balthus, let me remind you that we have sought the destruction of Goblin Town before, but it rebuilds itself seemingly overnight. The greater orcs are cunning and hide whole broods deep in dens we know not of. Nipping the bud is not enough, we must rip out the roots."
Although my words sound strong even in my own ears, I know that the orc and goblin broods survive like weeds, always returning even no matter how well you uproot them. Balthus Goldeneye smiles serenely as I pass him the pipe, the tangy aroma filling the townhall. With a soulful sigh, Kardak opens the window slightly and Iorwenn's leaflets scuffle across the floor.
Almost half a year later, as Kardak predicted, Eleusis raises 50,000 gold coins. Slowly, other Champions of Maedhros gather in Eleusis to aid her. First to arrive are the other rangers. Maedhros Allendil's high priest, the greybeard ranger Markus, becomes the Warder of Eleusis. The beautiful ranger Magdalene, whose raven locks and skills as a huntress are renowned throughout Avalon, also hears the Call of Maedhros. Slowly the younger rangers arrive, youthful and skilled, optimistic and bright -- Lilandrin, Stilgar, Roy and Hamlet. Xanthus, Bram and Jxtreme, hardy adventurers, decide to apprentice to the rangers. Kirok, a veteran ranger of many goblin wars, appears bloodstained in Eleusis to defend her.
Following the rangers come others devoted to the Greenwood and Eleusis. Arabella the Lady of Lo'rien and Irieyes the mage offer their magical powers, vowing to join me in Eleusis' magical defense. Sir Ratava the Green, a wandering warrior, pledges to help Eleusis forge her weapons. Aragorn the Animist, gentle and wise, older than the hills, returns to the Greenwood from his travels to provide spiritual guidance to Eleusis, as he has always done in the past.
The Merchants Guild representative is slow in getting to Eleusis, and promised supplies have not yet manifested. Worse yet, Damophacles, our boatman, punctured the hull of his barge which we use for trading to the smaller villages across the Eleusis river. We do not even have the tools necessary to repair his small craft. Iorwenn has told me of a magical spear given to Gant, born in Eleusis and a great warrior of Avalon, by a magical nymph, which Eleusis had for many generations safeguarded for times of need. But about two years ago the Spear of Eleusis was lost in a goblin raid. I've led a search throughout town to find this artifact but to no avail.
Although our numbers have increased, reports of orc raiding parties in the further reaches of the Greenwood trickle into Eleusis, provoking most of our rangers to spread themselves out thinly throughout the Greenwood, ever vigilant and ready to charge at the sound of an orcish party's warhorn. Iorwenn writes another flurry of letters to the other villages and cities of Avalon requesting succor. We have had many responses, with vague but no concrete offers of support. Sometimes I think as many messengers as villagers visit the office that Iorwenn and I share.
When rumors whisper that the undead Sorcerer Astiron arises to unite the horde against all of Avalon, we know that we must rally a preemptive strike. I and the other wielders of magicks prepare great rituals, which I had thought I would never use, to purge the orcs from their lair. Hellflames burn bloody fires through the stone grottos of Goblin Town, and we summon earthquakes that crack open kness. The Mercinaens, though, I cannot help but think, are wealthy and complacent, ignorant of the impending ruin that towers over them like some invisible behemoth.
Settling in Mercinae proves to be a slow business, we gather mostly in Grove Tavern, a small inn just on the outskirts of Mercinae. Warning the Council of Light of the prophecies of Maedhros and Orestes, we see little action in the way of preparations for the cataclysm to come. I fear that our own members of the Order of Maedhros now become complacent in the City of Light, and who can blame them? Though large and sprawling, filled with thieves and the occasional rogues, Mercinae offers a haven of peace, a sanctuary of protection. Even I can't help but feel secure in the City of Light.
But dark omens spread rapidly across Avalon, like deadly jegga creepers twining their thin vines around an old oak tree, dark blossoms unfolding just before choking the victimized oak. The omens foretell great doom: the Great Dragon from Mount Sapience, long since thought trapped in its lair, escapes to spread its dark wings; mysterious rites from the Cult of Fire flare up across avalon, deadly sparks shrouded in dark smoke; strange voices can be heard throughout Avalon prophesying doom of the sacred Pool of Life; and dreams of a lost soul rampage through the minds of those sensitive enough to hear. These omens twine around my heart, their blossoms hailing despair, and I must find and pull their roots before I am choked with darkness.
My prayers to my lord, Maedhros Allendil of the Hunt, lead me further on a quest for enlightenment, for knowledge of the darkness that seems coiled and poised like a snake about to strike, and for guidance on how to defeat that snake before it releases its venom. When I hear his strong and vibrant voice deep within my meditations, I know what I must do. I must leave the City of Light and my companions to travel to Parrius, my birthplace, where I first learned the arts of magic, and accept the mantel of Guildmistress of the Enchanters Guild. There, I shall train the wielders of enchantments, preparing a defense of rituals for the time of shadows to come.
But before the journey to Parrius, I make a trip back to Eleusis to visit Iorwenn. As I approach her office door, I hear her hard at work, still writing her missives. Scritch. Scritch. Scritch. The sound oddly comforts me and I pause to breath deeply, savouring the scent of wood and apple blossoms, remembering quieter times, gentler days.
Some things never change, and for some reason this comforts me. In my heart I pledge to return some day, if I survive the times to come.
Scritch. Scritch. Scritch.
Written by Fedora
