Endless Whispers: The Village

There are bad dreams for those who sleep unwisely.

-Dracula, by Bram Stoker

Wretched is he whose only memories consist of agonized struggle and purging flame.  I watched most of my family perish beneath the electrified claws of the Wizard.  There is not much left for me.  These strangers come; for good or ill, I know not which.  They make promises.  I heed them.  Why shouldn't I?  I could drink mead as though it were nepenthe - or I could I follow the strangers to the black gates of the Wizard's Tower.  Death awaits me either way.

-Mikhael Verse, Peddler

Endless Whispers: Loamhedge Renegades Warband

All the world will be your enemy, Prince with a Thousand Enemies, and whenever they catch you, they will kill you.

-Watership Down, by Richard Adams

Nothing would please me more than to see that damned abbey burned to the ground.  My brethren don't seem to share in my sentiment, but my blood calls for its destruction.

They expelled me.  No.  More than that - I've been excommunicated.  They tell me that I will walk no more in the light of the Sky-Father.  But I don't care.  Let him burn.  Let them all burn.

I feel the call of the Old Gods singing within my veins.  The Wolf calls on me to deal death to the enemies of my brothers.  And my enemies multiply with each passing day.  The Wizard thinks he will rule the forest - but the forest is still my home, even if the abbey is not.  I feel the Wolf, the Crow, the Serpent, the Hyena all within my heart.  They have crowded the Sky-Father out.  They have defeated him - even as I shall defeat the Wizard.

Eulalia!

-Threar Buckthorn, Loamhedge Renegade Abbot

Endless Whispers: Campaign Rules

Another day
Another eternity gone
And on the stairway to salvation
I walk alone among the falling stars
 -At the Left Hand ov God, by Behemoth

Welcome back!

Campaign rules available HERE.

Endless Whispers: It Begins...

But haply wandering, worlds and cycles hence,
Through unforeseen fantastic avatars,
I shall forget you in the future stars,

-The Last Oblivion, by Clark Ashton Smith

The city we call Mirrorsun, but which others know by other names, is aflame.  The servant of the Eagle-god strode through its gates with halo of gold flame encircling his head.  With hammer and prayer, he butchered all of my friends, my family, my brethren.  I fled to the hateful forest; filled with starlight and sorrow.  I remember the long nights spent weeping - beseeching hands uplifted.  But I found no solace in the heavens - only a great and awful emptiness.

But I was wrong.  Gloriously, horrifically wrong.  The Old Gods came.  Their servants bestrode the shattered land as colossi wreathed in constellations of dark stars.  The great torch of the Wolf filled us with strength beyond that of men.  The touch of the Crow withered our enemies.  The gaze of the Serpent befuddled their arcane powers.  The Laugh of the Hyena slowed their blows.

Mirrorsun has become a great altar to the glory of the Old Gods.  In the forest, I covered myself in ash and blood; I danced naked beneath the stars in ecstacy.  The beasts of the forest who assume the semblance of men have come forth.  The sylvan spirits, capricious and cruel, leap through the canopy once more.

Our joy has been short lived.  Another comes.  A creature of powers more than magical.  He builds a tower in the forest, seeking the stars.  The Wizard.

The Old Gods are with us.  We will defeat him.

-Sebastian Moore, Friar of Drumhead Village