Lysi'ander Vae'khyll

Know Thy Enemy, Thy Allies, and Their Numbers "If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles." Understand the enemy’s strengths, weaknesses, and numbers. When outnumbered, focus your party's attacks on one foe at a time to thin their ranks quickly. A single defeated enemy reduces the danger more than wounding many. Know your allies' abilities and coordinate to maximize your strengths.   Unity in Purpose and Action "A divided army is a defeated army." The party must act as one, sharing a clear objective. Whether the goal is victory, survival, or a tactical withdrawal, all must commit to the plan. If even one adventurer acts selfishly or against the group's strategy, the entire party may fall.   Master the Terrain to Control the Battlefield "The terrain is the ally of the prepared." Use chokepoints, high ground, and natural barriers to counteract superior numbers. Funnel enemies into tight spaces where they cannot attack all at once, or lead them into traps and hazards. A well-chosen battlefield can turn the tide of any engagement.   Strike Where It Hurts Most "Strike at weakness, and avoid strength." Target the most vulnerable enemy first—casters, leaders, or already-wounded foes. Focus fire to eliminate threats swiftly. Spreading your attacks across many enemies may delay victory and prolong danger. Concentrate force where it will do the most harm.   Communicate Without Confusion ”Orders should be as clear as sunlight piercing a cloud." Use simple signals, clear words, or magical communication to coordinate your actions. Confusion in the midst of battle leads to disorder and defeat. Ensure every party member knows their role and can adapt to the unexpected.   Retreat With Discipline and Unity ”He who knows when to retreat lives to fight another day." A tactical withdrawal is not abandonment. Retreat as a unit, covering each other's escape. Leave no one behind unless they choose to sacrifice themselves. Protect the wounded and use defensive spells or abilities to slow pursuers. An "every man for himself" retreat invites disaster.   Exploit Weaknesses While Guarding Your Own ”Victory comes to those who adapt to the enemy’s flaws and shield their own." Exploit the gaps in your enemies' formation, their poor coordination, or their lack of leadership. At the same time, guard your vulnerable members, such as the wizard or healer, and ensure your flanks are secure.   Deceive to Divide and Conquer "All warfare is based on deception." Confuse your foes with illusions, misdirection, or false retreats. Divide their forces by luring part of the group into traps or isolating key enemies. A scattered enemy is an easier target.   Reserve Resources for the Unexpected "Fortune favors the prepared." Conserve powerful spells, potions, and abilities for unforeseen dangers or final confrontations. A battle is often won or lost in its final moments when both sides are spent—ensure your party has strength left to tip the scales in your favor.   Victory Lies in Harmonious Action "A well-coordinated force is unshakable, like a mountain.” Each party member should act in perfect synchrony. The tank shields the group, the rogue eliminates priority targets, the caster controls the battlefield, and the healer sustains the party. When each adventurer performs their role and supports the others, no enemy force can prevail  

The Skeletal Knight's command rings hollow across the chamber, demanding I relinquish Sempach. My grip tightens on the blade as frost begins to crystallize around my fingers. My other hand moves to my holy symbol, winter's fury building in my veins. Sempach's voice echoes in my mind, urging surrender, speaking of his own survival against my companions' likely death. The blade's nobility - willing to endure misery to spare lives - only fuels my rising anger. My fingers curl around the holy symbol of Freyja and Titania, frost spreading across its surface These bones dare to threaten what's under my protection? Such arrogance deserves... but then my gaze falls on my companions, and the cold fury falters. The tactical reality crashes through my pride like an avalanche. We are outmatched. My friends would die here, in these depths, because of my refusal to yield. I look down at Sempach, my winter-touched features softening for just a moment Freyja teaches that true warriors know when to stand and when to yield. Titania's lessons speak of protecting what matters most. Both would understand this choice, though it tears at my pride like thorns. With deliberate slowness, my grip loosens on the blade You show more nobility than these bones deserve, friend. my words to Sempach carry frost's bitter edge I'm sorry. This isn't the partnership either of us envisioned. I lower the sword, each inch feeling like a mile The failure settles in my chest like ice - not just the loss of a powerful weapon, but the severance of a bond barely formed. A blade of justice, choosing me for fate's purpose, and I surrender it to these... remnants. My jaw tightens against words that want to spill forth, challenges and defiance that would only result in bloodshed My companions' lives weigh more than my pride. More than this bond. More than destiny's plans. In the Feywild, such a choice would mark me as diminished. But exile has taught harder lessons about what truly matters. As I place Sempach down, frost spreads across the floor from my feet May we meet again under better circumstances, friend. And may these bones prove worthy of carrying you until then. The cold fury doesn't leave - it settles deeper, transforms into something more lasting. This isn't over. This is merely my eyes meet the skeletal knight's empty sockets a tactical retreat. Sometimes the greatest victory comes from knowing when to step back, regroup, and return better prepared. A winter's patience can outlast any storm. My steps echo hollowly through these cursed halls as we make our retreat, each one feeling heavier than the last... The weight of failure sits like ice in my chest. Not just the loss of Sempach - though that cuts deeper than I expected - but the knowledge that we were forced into this position at all. My training in the Twilight Wardens taught me to anticipate threats, to prepare for any contingency. Yet here we were, outmatched and cornered. I knew with all the magical energy that has occurred over the past day there would be eyes on us, and I failed… My hand absently touches where the sword had rested In just our brief time together, Sempach showed more nobility than most beings I've known. Willing to endure captivity to spare lives... frost crystallizes in my quiet exhale Much like my own exile - sometimes the harder path is the right one. Zephyr's presence on my shoulder offers what comfort it can, but even my oldest friend's support can't fully thaw this new layer of winter settling in my spirit. Looking at my companions - Cathllynn's quiet strength, Dorian's determined stride, Lilly's resilient spirit - I know I made the right choice. Their lives are worth more than any blade, even one touched by celestial purpose. Yet questions gnaw at me like winter winds. Why were those skeletal knights seeking Sempach specifically? What power do they serve? Was this Hallister’s doing? the Feywild, such direct confrontation would suggest larger schemes at work. Here in Nehwon, I find myself struggling to read the signs. My fingers trace the holy symbol of Freyja and Titania Both my patrons would understand this choice, I think. Protection of companions over pride. Tactical retreat over glorious defeat. But understanding doesn't make the bitter taste of retreat any sweeter. The convergence of powers in that tower - Cathllynn's journey to the Feywild, Sempach's appearance, these undead warriors with purpose - none of it feels random. We've stumbled into something larger than ourselves, and now we've lost a powerful ally before truly understanding our role in it all. As we near the exit, my resolve hardens like deepening frost This isn't over. We'll return - stronger, wiser, better prepared. Those bones may have Sempach for now, but fate brought us together for a reason. And if my time in exile has taught me anything, it's patience. The board is larger than we can see, the pieces still moving into place. For now, we withdraw. We protect what matters most - each other. But winter's memory is long, and revenge, like justice, is a dish best served cold. A final glance back towards the depths Keep your honor bright, Sempach. We will meet again.

(Reflections of Sessions 23 & 24)   As Lysi'ander settles against the damp stone wall, blood still drying on his blade, his thoughts turn inward...   The aftermath of battle leaves a peculiar taste - copper and stone dust, touched with the lingering spark of magic. Victory over the Hill Giants and Ettin came at a cost, evident in every aching muscle and fresh bruise. This crude battleaxe rests heavy against my leg, so unlike the elegant weapons of my homeland. Yet there's truth in its simplicity, a directness that mirrors Nehwon itself. Perhaps that's why I'm growing to appreciate it - like this realm, it makes no pretense of being anything other than what it is.   The children... his jaw tightens, fingers curling into fists. Twelve young souls, each bearing wounds deeper than flesh. Their vacant stares and wasted frames speak of horrors no child should endure.   Cathllynn and Lilly showed wisdom in approaching them first. My winter-touched appearance, already unsettling to most mortals, would have only deepened their terror. Strange how exile has made me more aware of how others perceive me, how the very features that marked me as noble in my homeland now serve as barriers to trust.   His hand moves to an emotion-capturing crystal, its surface drinking in the complexity of the moment. Watching Dorian fashion that travail from scattered debris... there's a lesson there. We fey often overlook simple solutions, too caught in our elaborate ways. Yet here was an answer born of necessity and quick thinking. Between his practical innovation and Tigeth's silent strength in carrying the third child, we found ways forward I might never have considered in my previous life.   The cooperation between us all carries deeper meaning. Each bringing unique gifts to bear - magical and mundane, learned and instinctive. No single approach would have served as well as our unified efforts. Even now, I can feel the crystal warming beneath my fingers, capturing this realization along with the swirling mix of pride, rage, and hope that accompanies it.   Shifting position brings a grimace, fresh wounds protesting. The price of intervention weighs heavy, yet watching awareness return to those young eyes... his expression softens. Some costs are worth bearing, some battles worth fighting, regardless of realm or origin. The prophecies that brought me here speak of greater challenges ahead, but perhaps they're also teaching me about the kind of defender I need to become.   Looking at my companions now, tending to the children and securing our path forward, I understand something vital about this exile. It's not just about waiting for future threats or seeking redemption. It's about learning to bridge worlds in ways I never expected, finding strength in connections I never thought to make.   Rising slowly, his hand falls to the battleaxe's hilt. The day's work isn't finished. These children need to reach safety, and every shadow could hide new threats. Yet for the first time since crossing the veil into Nehwon, I feel centered in my purpose. Let Freyja and Titania witness - their exiled servant has found worthy battles to fight.   Lysi'ander's thoughts drift to the tense encounter at the fountain...   The sight of Matteu standing there, waterskins in hand, stirred a coldness within me that rivaled my winter aspect. There he stood, casual and unperturbed, as though his midnight disappearance meant nothing. In the Feywild, such betrayal of companions would demand immediate consequence - yet here was this mortal, filling his waterskins as if abandonment held no more weight than a missed meal.   Cathllynn's reaction taught me something vital about mortal responses to betrayal. Her quiet smirk, laden with disappointment and resignation, carried more impact than any grand confrontation. Our collective choice to move past him - denying him even the dignity of an explanation - spoke to a different kind of justice. No elaborate ritual of shame, just the heavy silence of unified disapproval.   The audacity of his behavior that followed... falling into step beside Dorian, attempting casual conversation as if the night's desertion never occurred. Even after months in this realm, such mortal capacity for compartmentalization continues to baffle me. Yet perhaps there's something to learn here about how they navigate the aftermath of their choices, how they carry on despite broken trust.   Finding the mushroom chamber provided unexpected respite from these dark contemplations. Lilly's enthusiasm proved infectious - her methodical excitement as she discovered each new species reminded me of simpler times, when discovery itself was enough to warrant joy. Nine new varieties... even in our haste, her dedication to knowledge remained steadfast. While our exit was urgent, her quick thinking in gathering samples displayed an admirable presence of mind.   The Hydra's attack brought all philosophical musings to an abrupt halt. Three rounds - that's all it took to dispatch a legendary beast. Our group's growing cohesion showed itself in that fight, each member moving in perfect complement to the others. Yet what followed proved even more remarkable. Lilly and Dorian's swift work with the remains, especially the heart... watching the children respond to its power, seeing strength and awareness return to their eyes - such moments make exile feel less like punishment and more like purpose.   The Black Pudding's assault served as a sharp reminder against complacency. Watching Dorian's armor dissolve, seeing him nearly topple forward into that caustic mass... we came too close to disaster. The threats in Nehwon feel more immediate than those of my homeland - less time for elaborate defenses, more need for quick reflexes and decisive action. Even now, I can recall the acrid smell of dissolving leather, the collective intake of breath as Dorian regained his balance.   Each challenge we face together weaves something stronger between us - not just trust or capability, but a deeper understanding of how different approaches can complement each other. Perhaps that's the true lesson here: strength lies not in perfect similarity but in how diverse abilities and perspectives come together in moments of need.   Lysi'ander contemplates the month spent in Lankhmar, his fingers absently tracing the hydra fang bracelet now adorning his wrist...   Cathllynn's apartment should have offered peaceful refuge, yet the dead plants spoke of wrongness - nature doesn't simply wither without cause. Her sister's absence, marked by these lifeless stems, carried an ominous weight. Strange how quickly I've learned to read the subtle signs of this realm, though the meaning behind them often remains unclear.   This past month brought unexpected moments of growth. The hydra fang bracelet, a reminder of our shared victory, warms what others perceive as my winter-chilled heart. His fingers linger on the smooth surface of the fangs. Such simple gifts mean more in exile than any ornate treasures of my homeland. During quiet evenings, I found myself gathering interesting stones that caught my eye, imbuing them with minor enchantments of continual flame. Sharing these with my companions felt... right. Not the grand magics of my past, but practical lights in the darkness we face together.   Only Benneth arrived of our missing companions, and his dedication to his new studio speaks to how quickly paths can diverge in this realm. His promise to reach out if he changed his mind carried that peculiar mortal finality - they accept change so readily, these brief-lived beings. Yet I find myself understanding such choices better now.   The question of children left behind haunts our discussions. During quiet evenings, conversations inevitably turn to what remains undiscovered in those depths. And then there's the matter of the dragon hatchlings... his expression grows distant. Four young dragons - truth or rumor, such claims demand investigation. The prophecies echo in my thoughts, making even whispers of dragons significant.   Dorian's month-long search for magical items revealed much about Nehwon's nature. Such artifacts are rare here, unlike the enchantment-rich realm of my birth. When he shared the rumor of The Portal, built upon an ancient wizard's tower, I recognized the glimmer of possibility - that same instinct that first drew me to investigate the missing children.   The decision to explore the tavern's depths wasn't made lightly. Yet what choice remained? To return to the temple's dangers without better equipment would be foolish. Sometimes the path forward requires a strategic detour, a lesson learned through bitter experience.   These quiet weeks have changed us all in subtle ways. The small magics I share now feel more meaningful than grand spells ever did. Perhaps that's another lesson of exile - true power often lies in the smallest gestures, the simplest connections forged between companions who trust each other with their lives.   In the depths beneath The Portal tavern, Lysi'ander's decades of fey instinct scream warnings about their newest encounter...   The descent through darkness felt meaningful - nearly two hundred feet separating us from the world above. Each foot deeper brought new sensations, ancient magics layered with something that sets my nerves alight. These depths hold power, true power, remnants of the Mad Mage's presence lingering in the very stones.   The shield room bore testament to genuine history, generations of stories slowly crumbling to dust. The elvish warning written in blood carried the weight of truth - a desperate message left by one who encountered something terrifying beyond the pillar forest. Such warnings don't spring from imagination; they're born of genuine fear.   Yet when Uktarl and his supposed vampires surrounded us, every instinct honed by decades among the fey screamed of falsehood. A cold smile plays across his features. Eight figures in dark cloth, moving with studied grace - but lacking the essential nature of true undead. In my years, I've encountered genuine creatures of darkness. They carry an aura of ancient hunger, a predatory essence that can't be mimicked by mere costume and choreography. These beings moved like actors who had carefully rehearsed their roles.   Their negotiation for safe passage proved the most revealing element. His winter-touched features sharpen with contempt. Vampires are creatures of pride and power, not merchants haggling over coin.   The very concept of them charging a toll in their own territory rings false. True undead lords would either attack outright or demand something far more valuable than mere gold - blood, services, or magical artifacts perhaps.   His thoughts turn to the Mad Mage's presence. The power in these ruins feels genuine enough - ancient magics pulse through these halls with undeniable force. But these "vampires"... his expression darkens. Someone is using the very real dangers of this place as cover for their own performance. Perhaps they serve some purpose in guarding these ruins, but their nature is most certainly not what they claim.   The true threat lies deeper, beyond their theatrical display. The Mad Mage's legacy feels tangible in these stones, a warning all its own. These pretenders merely use that genuine danger to bolster their own deception.   Lysi'ander contemplates their discoveries beyond the encounter with the false undead...   The private chambers we discovered tell a different story than the theatrical display above. That mountain fresco, with its intricate dwarvish figures and radiating sunlight, stands as a masterwork requiring regular care. The stone tub - his fingers trace the edge of his sleeve - shows signs of current use. These rooms speak of living inhabitants, not the undead they pretend to be.   His expression grows calculating. The question becomes not whether they are vampires - that deception is clear enough - but why maintain such an elaborate ruse? These ruins hold genuine power; the Mad Mage's presence lingers in every stone. What purpose does this group serve, demanding coin to allow passage deeper into truly dangerous territory?   The cool air rising from below carries hints of deeper mysteries. Whatever we've encountered thus far feels like mere prelude. These false vampires guard something beyond their staged encounters and practiced menace. The comfortable furnishings suggest a permanent operation rather than simple opportunistic deception.   His thoughts sharpen with newfound purpose. In the courts, such elaborate deceptions always served larger schemes. These "vampires" may be false, but their presence here is deliberate. Someone wants to control access to these depths without drawing attention to their true purpose. The Mad Mage's legacy provides convenient cover - who would question vampires lurking in ancient, cursed ruins?   Whatever lies deeper, past this crafted first layer of defense, must be significant enough to warrant such sustained deception. And that, perhaps, is what we truly came here to discover.

16th of Zepter, 3022 (Year of the Shifting Shadows) (*Session 21)   The mortal realm continues to challenge me in ways I never anticipated. Today, I found myself in a most undignified position - caged like a common beast alongside a human named Dorian. My capture came about during a scouting mission near a temple, investigating rumors of dragons being born in this area had reached the ears of the Twilight Covenant. I offered to investigate it by myself. Which lead me here, caged like an animal. I must admit, a part of me was tempted to simply use my fey step ability to escape, but something held me back. Perhaps it was curiosity, or maybe a growing sense of connection to these mortals I now find myself allied with. Regardless, our captivity was short-lived thanks to the intervention of a group of adventurers. A kind halfling soul named Lilly provided us with rations, a gesture that touched me more than I expected. Our gear, thankfully, was within reach. Before resting, I engaged in a ritual familiar yet strange in this foreign land - weaving an intricate pattern with colored thread, a practice that always preceded my fey reverie back in the land of Faerie. These hours of trance-like rest were a bittersweet reminder of home, until being jolted from my reverie. Our respite was rudely interrupted by an attack from eight gargoyles. The battle was fierce, and while we managed to fall seven of the stone beasts, one escaped. The skirmish left me exhilarated and troubled, as I rub my fingers over a smooth small crystal, capturing this emotion. It's clear that danger lurks around every corner in this realm. Thinking more on the subject and rubbing the crystal, I slowly drift back into my reverie.         17th of Zepter, 3022 (Year of the Shifting Shadows) (*Session 22)   Our rest broke with an unsettling discovery - Mattaeu had vanished during the night. The ever-exotic Nebula had briefly woken up during the night to see him up and about but thought nothing of it. Who would leave their companions at a time like this? Either that explains a lot about his character, or something is off. We refilled our wineskins from a nearby fountain of slightly sulfuric water, its water an extremely awful substitute for the crystal streams of the land of Faerie. Cathllynn, displaying an impressive shapeshifting ability, transformed into a spider to scout ahead. Her report was grim - the missing children were found, but under some malevolent influence. Steeling ourselves, we ventured forth to confront a two-headed Ettin. Our ambush was swift and effective. I called upon the power granted to me by both Freyja and Titania, unleashing a guiding bolt that struck true. However, in a moment of carelessness, I managed to injure myself in the fray more so than the Ettin did - an oh so humbling reminder that I'm, in fact, not infallible. Victory was short-lived as two hill giants lumbered into the room. The ensuing battle was chaotic and brutal. I found myself on the brink of unconsciousness, forced to use my fey step to retreat behind the Hill Giant that was focused on me. The support of my companions was invaluable. Lilly's transformation into an elk drew attention away from me, while Cathllynn's healing touch brought me back from the brink. Dorian's precise arrows found their mark time and again, while Bennith's arcane energies crackled through the air. Ikiri, Ironcast, and Tigeth formed a formidable front line, their martial prowess keeping the giants at bay. Orianna's fiery magic and Nebula's swift strikes added to the onslaught. Throughout the melee, I witnessed impressive displays of skill and bravery from all my newfound allies. It was our unity, our ability to work as one despite our diverse backgrounds, that ultimately led to our triumph over the giants. Each of us played a crucial role, our individual strengths combining to overcome a seemingly insurmountable foe. As the dust settled, we tended to our wounds and gathered what spoils we could. I claimed a battleaxe, a weapon that might prove useful in this strange land. Despite the victory, I find myself drained, both physically and magically. This experience has been enlightening, and I feel my connection to my dual deities growing stronger. The challenges of Nehwon are vastly different from those I faced in the Twilight Wardens, yet there's a familiar thrill in facing adversity alongside comrades. As I have these thoughts, I can't help but wonder what Zephyr would make of all this. His wit and wisdom are sorely missed. I can't help but consider how the Twilight Covenant would view this experience. Our encounter with the Ettin and Hill Giants, while formidable, pales in comparison to the prophesied coming of dragons. Yet perhaps there's a lesson here. The diversity of this group, our ability to adapt and overcome together, mirrors the very strengths the Covenant seeks to cultivate. If we are to face dragons, it will require not just the unity of fey, but an alliance that transcends racial and planar boundaries. This mission, initially seeming like a punishment, may be providing crucial insights into the challenges that lie ahead. Zephyr would surely see the irony in finding such valuable lessons in exile. (A small and extremely brief smirk forms on his ever-solemn face at the thought) New challenges await, but for now, we must save the children. The path ahead is uncertain, but I am beginning to see that my exile might be more than just punishment - it could be an opportunity for growth and discovery. The bonds forged in battle with these diverse individuals remind me of the strength found in unity, a lesson both Freyja and Titania have long taught. This same feeling that I have ever grown fawn of within the Twilight Wardens and Twilight Covenant. Perhaps this is part of my journey, to learn to bridge worlds and bring together disparate forces, just as I balance the teachings of two divine patrons. I believe I am precisely where I am meant to be, and that is truly why I did not simply fey step out of the cage. This is all connected, I just do not understand the role that little young me…I mean I’m only 80, well almost 81 in an about a month, is to paint on this canvas. Perhaps these people are to play a major role and are all connected in an even larger picture to be painted on the great canvas of the world? Grit, adaptability, and time will tell, but for now, let’s save some poor innocent children.