Danomau Greyhawk Alternativa

The Begining of the Phostwood campaign
Aluistra sings the song of Voronathar

As night falls Celene’s dim blue light becomes more noticeable as Luna, the larger of the two moons, is no where to be seen in the night’s sky. The elves of the Earth tribe gather around the large bond fire. Laugher abounds, there’s the smell of roasting meats, music plays, songs are sung, ale flows, and the dancing around the large fire makes every one forget the cold of midwinter.

Aluistra goes to the centre of the circle as the fire starts to go down, the dancing lights accentuates even more her perfect figure. All eyes follow her ever move, as she pulls her blonde hair back, like a golden curtain opening up to reveal her lovely face. As she breathes in filling her chest with air, she pauses for a moment, the musicians stop playing, the elves stop dancing and sit down. Aluistra starts to sing, her angelic voice fills the air. None of the musician dares plays to not ruin what many think is perfection. Goose bumps can be felt and seen on nearly every one present, not from the cold, as no one is feeling the cold of winter, but something moving inside them, with every note sung.

The song is of the heroic acts of Voronathar Uvatharerum. When many centuries ago, hordes of evil creatures overflown the land like a tide of destruction. Voronathar united 4 great tribes of elves, and united behind him,… a new hope was had. Those that did not follow Voronathar were laid to waste by the dark horde, they had fallen to the horde’s might and cunning trappings, there was not even a single survivor of the tribes that did not follow Voronathar.

Voronathar lead the 4 tribes to victory, freeing the forest of the horde’s fowl presence. Though they had been victorious over the bloody horde, the forest was still sick, and the sickness was still growing, as the great evil behind the fowl creatures had not been defeated. It seemed that no one, nor any thing could stand against the great evil. Voronathar though found a way, but a steep price must be paid, would he be willing to pay it? With his heart filled with love for his people, Voronathar laid the great evil down. The song ends on a sad note, reminding the elves that Voronathar sacrifice himself for them. That none of them would be here if Voronathar wasn’t willing to die for them.

Several tears go down the most wrinkled face of The Ancient One . Called like that since his name has long been forgotten by even himself, he was already ancient when the parents of the oldest here where born. His skin is so tough it’s probably harder than any armour that Vertelion the great smith could make. Though very senile and demented, The Ancient One continues to perform the most advanced Druidic rituals flawlessly and better then anyone. As he very slowly rises to applaud Aluistra’s singing. His whole body start to violently shake. He falls to the ground and foams from the mouth. The elves are all taken back by the old one’s violent convolutions, horror fills them as the thought of losing him crosses everyone’s mind. Despite the foaming he speaks in a strange voice, it’s very hard to understand, not only from the white substance coming from The Ancient One’s mouth, but his dialect is strange, he’s speaking a very very old form of elven.

- “Darkness” he screams, “It takes all… the song of birds… gone, the green of grass… gone, the trees… the trees are nowhere! The laughter of children… gone! There’s only silence! The sun is… dead, all is undone… all is cold… darkness… nothingness is what is left! Darkness… Those humans must be stopped! Darkness… Those fools! The darkness is coming!”

“Prophecy!” yells the Witch “Take heed to what the venerable one says or does!”

The Ancient One stops shaking, and stands up oddly fast with such a frail body. His eyes are all white as he touches a few elves. The Starbow brothers: Elodil and his younger bother, then he touches Ivar, then Veg , the Witch and the young Merriladrin that had snuck up closer, and unseen by everyone.

And just as suddenly had it all started, The Ancient One returns to his normal and senile state. The elders look to the elves touched.

“You must investigate what the humans are doing! At once!”

The “chosen” elves look to each other, “but we don’t know any humans, or where we can find them”.

“The gnomes may know! They do business with the humans! At once speak with the gnomish lord! At once!”.

The next day at first sunlight, the party of elves leaves South, in direction of the gnomes, that live very near the border of Nutherwood, a place no elf should go.


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