The Kingdom of the Emerald Hills

The Rogue had seen his fair share of adventures away from home. An infinite amount of memories have been made through his trials and tribulations of Rykor... of Skye... of Britannia. It was almost too much traveling for this vagabond as he had soon found an anchor to keep him in place. Of course, her name was Illavain. A woman of the Eldalie blood, almost as his own but with a slightly misfortunate trademark. She was doomed to die by the force that created her. It wasn't just her... No, it was her entire race. Her whole life had been nothing but preparations for that moment that the aetherial form enveloped her body and absorbed every bit of essence that was Illavain Arkeannia.

That was until they found each other. In some eyes, he was and wasn't to blame for it. Though his heart persuaded him to create a relationship and sustain it, her heart had done the same to him and for years they were happy. They were joined, as one. Not just by a marital rite, but by a metaphysical unity that only the divine could understand. That unity was his home. It was his anchor... She was his anchor. So, of course, he wanted to be her's as well.

The moment had come. That form had called her and it was an eerie trance that took her. She had become tranquil and silent at first and then she was set to a path. A path that she didn't know, nor did he. It was a path that he was going to take with her, though. His curiosity had to be sustained. He had to know and like Hell he was going to let her wander in this state. It was only when it was too late that he realized what had been taking her. It was pure aether. It showed signs of sentient being, but it had no desire to converse... Only to consume. Well... Connor would not have it.

He had decided to love this woman. This living being. This other half of himself. He had chosen to stay with her... He had chosen to love her and to be with her for the rest of his days. To whatever end. He was bound to this woman and that bind would make his defy fate. So he believed.

When the entity tried to take Illavain, Connor would restrain her. He would defend her and place her behind him, below him. Anywhere that was away from the being. He would try to destroy it... To subdue it... To stall it... Anything. She was his everything and he was not about to lose everything to something that wouldn't so much as greet you. It wanted power... It wanted essence... It needed to consume Illavain.

The Rogue would not give her to it. And so he did the last thing that he could... He concentrated. He stirred the powers of Aether and Eldritch that coursed through his very being. He focused his mind and spirit and created a force before him through a mixture of arcane magics. It wanted power... It could have it... It could have more than it needed... It could consume this energy and go straight to Hell as far as Connor was concerned.

The energy generated became uncontrollable... It was as if Connor had summoned his own sentient being with the need to consume... And it did... Out of sheer, dumb luck... Connor saved Illavain from her fate. The two forms of quintessence devoured each other. But as always, when you change fate for one, you change fate for another... He changed his own. And his fate would be to lose Illavain... It was one thing he could not avoid. The battle for dominance between the two sentient forms of energy consumed each other and released an explosion of energy so powerful that it would tear through time and space... And while Illavain was sent away from it... Connor was consumed by it.

Death would not take him though. No, he was sent elsewhere... A place where he would not be found by his comrades and his love left in Britannia. It was to the Shire of Five Banners. He would wake, battered and bruised. Drained of energy and almost his life. But it was his defiance... His willpower that kept him alive. And so now he resides in the Kingdom of Emerald Hills. An old land filled with chance, opportunity and a fresh pot of luck. And in order to get back to Illavain... He'll need all of it. And he'll spend every drop of blood to do it.

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Squire to Sir Everlast of Buttercup

That morning was like most others in Five Banners. The warm sun rose, slowly burning away the night’s rain from the copper vines of Gwin grapes. I was out inspecting the vines after the storm the night before. It was as if some great powers were warring just beyond the realms of the sky. The dogs, who normally accompanied me on these early morning rounds, began barking furiously, calling my attention to a patch of vines that had been flattened. Expecting to find vines torn by wind or hail, imagine my surprise to see a strange elf lying there. He wore cloths of an alien cut with blue trousers cut in a such a way as to suggest a female's form, a Green tunic which was torn and bloodied and worn boots of some unknown leather.

I summoned people from the house and had them carry the unfortunate soul to our guest chambers then sent a rider to the nearby shire of Red Storm to beg the presence of their healer. By the time the young man arrived we had the unlikely visitor bedded down and cleaned to some extent. His wounds were grievous and many. It was a wonder that he lived at all. The healer worked his magic, saving the elf’s arm, which seemed to have been burned to the bone by some intense power. We were given directions on his care and told that his fate rested with whatever gods he worshiped.

The stranger slept for most of a week, only stirring in a delirium, calling out a single word “Illavain”. We knew not if it was a place or a person or even if it might be a word is his own unknown language. Eventually, his fevers broke and he surprised Lorelei, my wife, by being awake when she checked him on the seventh morning. She called for me and I found the stranger sitting in our guest bed, a bewildered and somewhat frantic look in his eyes. He opened his mouth as if to say something and croaked. My wife gave him a goblet of wine, which he gulped down eagerly if not with must savoring.

“Where is Illavain?” he managed to say after the wine.

“I know no Illavain.” I replied.” I found you lying in my vineyard seven days hence as if you had fallen from the heavens themselves. There was no one else with you.”

A pained look crossed his face and then determination took it’s place. “You did not find anyone else? Anyone at all? Illavain is a beauty like no other to grace the earth. Maybe your neighbors found her before you arrived?”

“There has been no word of a fair young lady appearing nearby.” I said with a solicitous tone, sensing the pain that this would bring. “You arrived alone.”

The visitor screamed unintelligibly and lunged as if to attack me but his weakened body betrayed him, dumping him unceremoniously onto the floor. His scream of rage and disbelief changed to bone deep sobs of despair which all but tore the heart from my own chest. I helped him back into the bed and bowed my head to his.

“I will send riders to nearby shires to ask after this Illavain.” I told him. “If she has found her way to one of our neighbors we will find here. If she has not, then we will organize a search party to look for her.”

“I don’t feel her.” He said through the sobs. “She’s not there. It’s as if she no longer exists in this world.”

He looked up at me with eyes torn by sadness. “She’s gone.” He finally said.

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Lord Malran Singollo
Duke of Dreadmoor
Patriarch, House Singollo
Lettusio-Rex, Dreadmoor Fey Jackalope
Member of the House of H.O.P.S.