The Way to the Land of Eldro

By the The Way to the Land of Eldro is meant the true teaching of the doctrine of Pure Land, that is to say, the way of truth that assures one's rebirth in the Pure Land of Eldro.

Through what power shall we be allowed to be born in the Pure Land? The question has been answered in Finley's divine words, for the Will of Eldro entertains no doubt as to this point: "That pure and beautiful land of justice is for us; Eldro, the source of all justice, wishing to have us join him in the Pure Land, is ever showering his light upon us in order to make us grow in wisdom and to become conscious of sinfulness and falsehood, whereby we might come to entertain the desire of being born in the land of truth and righteousness."

It is thus entirely due to the effulgence of Eldro (the Infinite Light) that we have grown conscious of the darkness existing in the world and awakened an aspiration for a land of eternal light. Finley, who has brought our minds to this state while we were altogether unaware of his existence, is now beckoning us, saying: "Hear my name of truth and goodness, awaken your consciousness to the impurity and falsehood darkening this land, and have your destiny absolutely entrusted into my hands that will save you from sin and ignorance." Those who listen to this call of Finley and who grow increasingly aware of sinfulness, surrender themselves to the Will of Eldro. They grasp the hand of salvation with absolute confidence and are embraced in the truth and goodness of his love; they will found the land of justice and purity, they will be given infinite wisdom and honor, and they will witness the triumph of the Judge, the bringer of Eldro's justice.

But there are some who can not resign themselves entirely to the Will of Eldro; those will be destroyed utterly.

Augur Oarde

Mandala Excerpt: Goblins

"Under the general title of Coblynau or Goblins, I class the mischievous fairies which haunt the mountains, forests, mines, quarries and under-ground regions of Saros. The word coblyn has the double meaning of knocker or thumper and sprite or fiend. It is applied by Dwarven miners to pigmy fairies which dwell in the mines, and point out, by a peculiar knocking or rapping, rich veins of ore. Most often seen in the Dwarven mines, the coblynau are generally reclusive, prefering the wild forests and mountain reaches of Saros. The coblynau are described as being about a yard in height and very ugly to look upon, but extremely good-natured, and friendly to miners. Their dress is a simple loincloth and beads. In the mines, They sometimes work busily, loading ore in buckets, flitting about the shafts, turning tiny windlasses, and pounding away like madmen, but really accomplishing nothing whatever. They have been known to throw stones at the miners, when enraged at being lightly spoken of; but the stones are harmless. Nevertheless, all miners of a proper spirit refrain from provoking them, because their presence brings good luck. The coblynau enjoy stealing small objects, often replacing them with goblin food or drink having hallucinogenic properties." Daile Raice, Ethnographer at the Academy in Courte.

The October weather on the road out of Hausen was pleasant. The wind, which for six days never exceeded a gentle breeze, hinted at the coming turn of seasons, but the still lush plains and woods of the Borderlands were comforting to the party, and the unenventful days of travel set the party at ease; they were glad to put the troubles of Hausen behind them and to enjoy a smooth journey.

However, on the fourth day, for well understood and agreed upon reasons, Garrett took them onto a rocky path, and the following three days of travel were bruising and exhausting.

On the sixth night out of Hausen, the party was, therefore, greatly relieved when Garrett called a stop for the night. He arrayed the wagons in a circle nested against the steep face of a low hill, and the group quickly set themselves to eating and sleeping. Two of the drivers took the first watch.

Sometime after midnight, the party heard a high-pitched howling in their midst. They jumped to alert with weapons drawn and immediately discovered a strange site: two creatures making a great commotion in the middle of their camp. The creatures were about two and a half feet tall, green skinned, slender, with long pointy ears and conical heads.

One held Arantxe's dagger. He had golden bits of stringy hair on his head. His face was sharply featured with thin lips stretched across pointy, uneven teeth. He wore a red loincloth, and next to him lay a discarded deer skin sack, the contents of which, spilt onto the ground, included one of the mandalas and several more of the party's possessions.

The other creature, wearing a blue loincloth with leather fringe trim, was roughly of the same height but more plump in the middle. He had full pouty lips, and the bottom lip sagged and undulated dramatically. He stared, wide-eyed, at his companion and made whimpering noises.

The first creature, still holding the dagger, continued to howl and jump about, as the party members looked at each other uncertainly. Gorthag then stepped forward and grabbed the creatures by their necks and held them fast, and they immediately began to weep and bawl loudly.

Just then a third creature, taller than the others (about three feet in height), stepped into the middle of the camp. He had skinny legs and arms and a little pot belly. He wore a yellow loincloth and many strands of wood and nut beads around his neck. He was sharp featured like the first creature but with a softness to his cheeks. His teeth were yellow and decayed. He scanned the group and stopped to look at Nimh'Otar. With shaking limbs and a tremulous voice, he addressed Nimh, "Please have mercy on my little ones. We are wandering and lost."

Arantxe exclaimed loudly, "What are you doing with our possessions?!"

Nimh interjected, "Hold! Everyone calm down. These are goblins, and we have nothing to fear." To the older goblin, Nimh said, "Who are you, and who is your spirit?"

The old goblin responded, "I am Gotene and these are my little ones, Dobre and Imme, and we lived with the Great Stone Spirit, but now he is dead. We are wandering and lost, and we search for a great spirit."

Nimh frowned and said, "How did he die?"

Gotene replied, "His death came with fire and many cries of men and dwarves. It was black and bloody, and now we are lost, we poor goblins." Looking greatly agitated, he said, "Please let go of my little ones."

The first goblin began to cry sobs of agony, so Arantxe carefully grabbed the dagger away from him, and Gorthag dropped the creatures. The first curled up into a ball on the ground and whimpered, while his companion, also whimpering, pet and stroked him.

Arantxe addressed the old goblin, "Did men kill your spirit? Who did it?"

The old goblin looked confused. He shifted his gaze between Nimh and Arantxe, and then he shrugged.

Artanis interjected, "I don't think he knows. They don't see the world as we do."

Nimh told the party that the spirits to which the goblin refers are elementals. Goblins live in close symbiosis with elementals, whom they call spirits. Some elementals are minor; they inhabit small regions, a small woodland or swamp, for example. Other elementals are massive beings who inhabit a large region of a continent, like a mountain range. There are thought to be only one or two dozen of these major elementals in the world. Goblins usually inhabit areas connected with major elementals. Nimh finished his lecture by saying, "By the way, don't accept any food or drink from goblins."

The old goblin was no longer shaking, and the party heard a firmness in his voice. He turned his attention to the mandala, still lying on the ground. He frowned, saying, "That is bad magic. It binds the spirits."

The young goblins stood, no longer appearing traumatized. They whispered to each other and pointed at Arantxe. Slowly they approached her and pawed at her clothing, her arms, her legs, and her belly.

Then the old goblin turned to Arantxe and frowned, saying, "There is something wrong with you. The spirits don't go through you."

Different expressions crossed Arantxe's face in quick succession: first she looked annoyed and then troubled. She said, "What do you mean?"

The old goblin's frown was replaced by a smile and a softness in his eyes. He rummaged in his bag for a moment and retrieved a silver piece. He handed it to Arantxe, saying, "You will need this." Arantxe, after confusedly examining the silver piece, said, "Thank you," and she smiled. She gave him a silver piece of her own in turn, for she really had no need of silver. Gotene took the coin from her, smiled, shrugged, and put it in a pocket of his loincloth. She then carefully dropped the silver piece into a pocket.

Artanis asked Gotene, "Where do you live?"

Gotene pointed south. "Not far," he said. "We go now."

"I will walk with you for a little while," offered Artanis, and taking Gotene by the hand she led him and his sons away from camp.

Fire Group Photos

Check them out, courtesy of Jenny.

Fire Excerpt: On the Road

Exhausted from battle and annoyed that they killed the cleric, the party set about looking through the wagons in hopes of finding a reward worth spilling their own blood. Sionel remained unconscious and bleeding on the ground. They found tents, ropes, rations, many supplies. In the last wagon under a pile of blankets they found a cowering Halfling.

He was dressed in leggings and a soft blue tunic that did a poor job of hiding his round belly. His curly blonde hair was topped with a small blue hat. His hands were ink stained. Khiyra grabbed him by the collar. He was shaking and he cried out, "Hey, hey! hold on. You people seem to like money and adventure. I know where you can get lots of money. More money than this and maybe something even better," he looked hopefully at Richard. Khiyra suddenly looked less annoyed and more interested.

“Speak, Halfling. But we will not promise to spare your life,” lisped Richard.

"I hope you change your minds when you hear what I have to tell you. Mayor Briargate, you know, the Mayor of Markindale? Well, my brother is his accountant, which is a really great job by the way. Mayor Briargate pays really well.” Khiyra gave him a little shake. “But anyways, my brother told me that Briargate has all this gold in a vault in his basement, like stacks and stacks of it and yeah well, ok. It's actually the town coffers and does not belong to Briargate, but that's where they keep it. But he also has this other thing. My brother made me swear not to tell, but I'll tell you if you just let me go," he gulped.

Richard said, “Maybe… if your information is useful enough.”

“Oh, it is! Your going to love this, really! My brother got sick on some bad buttermilk one night when he was dining at the mayor’s manor. The mayor offered his own bed for Sammer to lie down in. When he was up in the room he saw it on the mantle: a large eye the size of my head in a glass case.” The Halfling nodded significantly. “Yep! A cyclop's eye!"

Everyone started to chuckle-- everyone but Richard that is. In grave tones he said, “Yes, Yes laugh all you want, children. Cyclops WERE real.”

Khiyra asked, “What’s the eye good for? Can it raise an undead army?”

“No,” said Richard flatly. He seemed rather annoyed. “But it can be used for other magical purposes…,” he hissed.

“Oh, come on! They sell fake ones in the market. I’ve sold them on the road dozens of times,” said Zagros, who was actively bleeding still and looking quite pale.

“My friends, I think we have good reason to go to Markindale together after all. Tell me little Halfling, do you have a potions we can use to cure our friends?” said Richard.

“Yes, yes!”said the Halfling eagerly. “In the other wagon, next to this one, in a blue box.” The frightening mad woman went to look inside. She pulled out 6 vials of pink colored potion. Richard poored some of the potion into Sionel’s mouth she stirred and moaned. Her bleeding slowed and she asked for water. He then attended to his manservant, who looked much better after drinking two doses of potion. Zagros drank and his bleeding also slowed, considerable and his wounds partially closed. The mad woman also drank and partially healed. Khiyra was hurting and very much wanted the potion, but he knew that Zagros was their strongest fighter and he gave his potion to the Centaur. The Centaur’s wounds turned to angry scars with large bruises.

Sionel rose from the ground and looked at the Halfling. “Who’s this?” But before anyone could answer, Khiyra shoved the Halfling over to Zagros. “Here, watch this guy. I think I just found a map in this wagon. Huh, and a note. Is this a map of Markindale, Halfling?”

“Yes! Yes,” said the Halfling. “Can you let me go?”

“No,” said Khiyra calmly. “Hmm. Check this out,” he hands the note to Sionel. “This caravan was on its way to meet up with Garrett’s crew.”

Sionel smiled, happy that they may have interrupted her former companions’ plans. “What will you do if we let you go?” she said to the Halfling.

“I’ll take a horse and ride on to Hausen. You’ll never see me again, I promise!” he said eagerly.

“Yeah… I have a better idea. We should take this guy into Markindale with us. We can go to his brother’s house and enlist his brother’s help in making a map of the Mayor’s manor. He’d have to keep quiet of course, or we would kill him,” Khiyra said, looking at the Halfling as he made his threat.

“Wait. Wait!” said the Halfling. “Sammer doesn’t have anything to do with this. You said you’d let me go.”

“No we didn’t,” said Richard. He turned to Khiyra. “This is a bad idea. This Halfling is known to people in Markindale. It is dangerous. What if he escapes?”

“Should we kill him?” asked Sionel, eagerly.

“No! No! Please! I haven’t done anything wrong!” pleaded the Halfling. “Here! I’ll show you where my brother lives. You can go there. Talk to him about the mayor’s place. But don’t kill him. And don’t kill me.”

“What will you tell the people in Hausen?” asked Richard.

“I’ll, I’ll tell them that the Clerics of Hro jumped us. They do sneaking underhanded stuff like that all the time,” said the Halfling desparately.

“This is an unlikely story,” Richard replied. “Tie him up and gag him. His voice is annoying. We’ll figure out what to do with him in the morning.” Sionel tied him up and then walked away pacing and angry. The Halfling was crying. She went over to a man she had killed and cut out is heart. She began to eat it.

“You should let me scare him to death.” The mad woman’s hollow voice almost echoed within their minds. Khiyra shivered, remembering how terrifying she was in the grove. What is she? he thought.

“I should just kill him. He’ll run and tell everyone what we did,” said Sionel. She did not wait for a reply, but instead walked over and casually gutted the Halfling, his tear-filled eyes bulging in pain and horror.

“Ok. Well, I guess we have to come up with another plan,” Khiyra shrugged. “Richard is right, we couldn’t have taken him into town with us.”

Sionel cleaned the blood from her blade. The mad woman came up to her. “Wicked, wicked woman,” she said to Sionel.

“I’m not wicked,” said Sionel, offended.

“But you kill innocents. They did not deserve your steel in their bowels. You are as evil as I and wield chaos,” the black-eyed woman replied. She smiled. It was almost sweet.

“I’m not evil. I do what's in my interests, and in my mind, I'm not evil. That person just needed to die,” Sionel said in a very matter-of-fact manner.

“The scary lady is right, Sionel,” said Khiyra, walking over to sit next to her. “It doesn’t matter how you justify it in your mind. The world sees it as evil. It was an evil act.” He sighed. “It’s ok. The world sucks and it doesn’t really matter what people think. Let’s go burn down Markindale.”

The mad woman began to laugh.

The Politics of the South

Pan-Southern Senate
The South, officially a loose coalition of city-states, is governed under the auspices of the Pan-Southern Senate, a bicameral body of elected and appointed officials with a nominal head.

The lower house, the Chamber of Commons, consists of 55 elected praetors—five from each of the eleven Southern States. Most praetors are moneyed elite, and the Commons represents the interests of the industrial and mercantile class. Election of the praetors takes place every five years, on a rolling basis; therefore, one praetor from each state is reelected or replaced each year. Once elected to office, however, most praetors never find themselves ousted, and many serve until voluntary retirement or death.

Above the Commons is the Blooded House, a body of eleven quaestors. Each quaestor represents his or her state’s aristocratic line, and the quaestors currently in place are that state’s most historically regal (although far from the wealthiest, given the rise of the merchant class). In the past, struggles for appointment to the Blooded House were common, with different families vying for the position, but in the last hundred years, each state’s aristocratic lineage has come to be widely agreed upon.

Presiding over the entirety of the Senate is the Princeps, a position appointed by a viva voce vote of the Blooded House members. Princeps is a largely ceremonial position and does not carry any real power, although he is officially allowed some control of Southern military forces under emergency law.

Democracy in the South
While states carry different official political organizations, the pan-South is at least formally a republic. Although requirements vary from state to state, participation in the republic is available to property owners or the learned. (Graduation from the Companions Academy, the Wizarding Academy, the Four Walls or military service in the militia of any Southern state is requirement enough to vote.) Three of the South’s eleven states allow women the vote, and nine allow any race to vote. (“Any race” being limited to humans, the rare elf or half-elf and dwarves—although a halfling business owner in Eastring was able to successfully lobby to gain a vote there. In no Southern state are orcs or centaurs allowed to vote.) As can be expected, democracy is limited to and beneficial for the merchant class and the vestiges of the aristocracy. Most residents are not considered “citizens”—citizenship being a function of access to the ballot—and most have little or no interest in the Senatorial goings-on.

This disinterest can change precipitously when residents of the South are faced with an outer threat, and the growing power and influence of the Eastern Empire, coupled with the orc and centaur threats to the western states, have brought the politics of the Senate to the attention of more and more people. Faced with such threats, the concept of a united and militarily powerful South is becoming a popular one. The praetors of Trowe, united with that state’s quaestor, Petrus Bound, have pushed for allowing the Senate more military power and to amalgamate the militias and small armies of the disparate states into a larger, better-organized Republican Army. Here, Bound was given support by the quaestor of Rygge, Turstan Leadbeater, as well as those of each of the Aedoc States. No decision has yet been made for the unification of armed forces, as such a move is opposed by Courte and by the aging (and some say ineffectual) Senate Princeps, Milo Alder—who is from Courte. Debate in both chambers of the Senate was paused when Bound, who had requested the hearing and had until now provided fiery invective on the topic, was called away on urgent family business.

—Excerpted from Notes of Interest, Nils the Recordist, the Library of the South in Sysson.

Open Call!

After a lot of talk, I'm pleased to announce that we're starting a third Saros group, to be co-GMed by me and Jana and/or Dustin. The group will be called Sub Rosa and will start out in the City of Courte. Let your friends/enemies/family know—I'm thinking that we'll institute a six-person cap.

Map: West of the Borderlands

Check out this map.

Map of the Borderlands

Check out the map of the Borderlands. A map of lands west of the Borderlands will soon follow.

The Stranger

Within the Great Cenmonoc Desert live a people who worship a god known only as the Stranger. the Stranger is a theological anomaly as far as any researchers at the Academy have determined. Unlike the gods of the Sarosi Pantheonus, whom can be distracted by the machinations of their fellow gods, the Stranger seems to be an omniscient god. Even more peculiar, the Stranger's main purpose appears to be the guidance of humans in their lifes' purposes. Or is it?

Many people of Saros view this god as fictional, a symbol of survival created by a barbaric people in harsh demanding conditions. According to the religious text of the People of One, or Sky Book, as they call it, “the Stranger feeds the mind in the storm. He sits next to you by the fire. He shares his root drink in a drought.” Is it surprising that a people so oppressed by heat, drought and hunger would create a god to cling to in moments of despair? Who may give their lives more meaning?

However, the Sky Book claims that the Stranger was here before the Sarosi Pantheonus and that, incredibly, the Stranger is able to cross between worlds freely. If the Stranger is real, What Is He? Certainly not forged in the fire of Saros. There are no tales that tell of his birth. When researchers have asked a devotee of "the One" about the birth of their god, they have been met with laughter. They report that “The Stranger was not born. He rides for eternity” or that “Your gods are born? Then surely they will someday die. This is bad for you. Your people will be lost without their guide.”

The Stranger, for all his omniscience, does not work alone. He has helpers that the People of the One refer to as Angels of Cenmonoc. The Angels physically protect the People of the One from harm. Legend has it that no rival desert tribe has ever defeated the People of the One in battle, though some Centaur tribes claim that they laid devastation to the lands of the People 200 years ago. How they managed this rout is unclear, and old Centaurs who know the story well will not reveal the secret. Eye-witness accounts of Centaurs and an ancient cave painting in the southern Cenmonoc region, depicting a great battle with winged creatures assisting the People, are the only references outside the Sky Book and the People of the One to the existence of Angels.

Of course, the People of the One live in what can only be described as a wasteland. There is no reason for them to be the target of any attack. Also, consider that Centaurs are the most unreliable historians, preferring oral histories that are prone to exaggeration. Therefore, it is unlikely that the People of the One have ever really been challenged militarily. When viewing the “undefeated” claim from this more scholarly angle, it disappears in a puff of mythological smoke.

Whoever or whatever the Stranger is: God or Archetype, is unclear. What is clear is that the People of the One survive the harshest conditions on the planet without the assistance of the Sarosi Pantheonus. Is it the power of their will or a divine hand that guides them? We may never know.

Arcturus Cowper
Professor of Religious Studies
The Academy at Courte.

The Full Story

Here you'll find a complete compilation of the recaps, including a full recap of the most recent session, the game involving both groups. The only material not included are the events after the groups parted ways. Enjoy.