Otto von Gerwig

Otto von Gerwig

A portrait of Otto von Gerwig

Relatives	Cellica von Gerwig (Wife - 900BR-850PR Deceased) Reyner von Gerwig (Son - 300-500 Deceased) Mira von Gerwig (DIL - 300-510 Deceased) Luitwin von Gerwig (GS - 400-610 Deceased) Askan von Gerwig (GS - 460-720 Deceased) Alea Garnier (Daughter - 400-650 Deceased) Perceval Garnier (SIL 425-505 Deceased) Antoinette Garnier (GD 453-750 Deceased) Lucien Garnier (GS 460-800 Deceased) Aiwin Garnier (GS 460-760 Deceased)
Languages	Common, Elvish
Affiliations	Troverth Government
Aliases	Komandant Alpha
Marital Status	Widowed
Place of Birth	Old Troverth
Date of Death	deathdate
Place of Death	deathplace
Species	Human
Gender	Male
Height	5' 10"
Weight	180
Eye Color	Grey/green

Otto von Gerwig is quite the odd adventurer. Seen as a 60 year old human man, he has been around for much much longer. He uses a regiment of ceaseless soldiers to fight in combat, but his own swordsmanship is capable for when the going gets tough.

Physical Appearance

Otto von Gerwig stands at 5' 10", human in almost every way. He looks to be about 45-50 years old, with somewhat paler skin, a bushy grey mustache, and grey-green eyes. These features can be seen when he is not wearing his gas mask, which he does so religiously when in the company of strangers. His clothing is militaristic in nature. He wears very bland colors, dark grey pants and tunic, covered by a blue-grey great coat. He wears a somewhat ornate, polished breastplate which has the seal of Troverth is stamped onto the very top of the armor. Upon his head, he wears a dull-grey helmet, and his canvas gas mask when in front of others. In the pocket of his trench coat is a small rosary with a locket at the end, inside is a portrait of his recently deceased wife, and he wraps the rosary around his wrist when he enters battle.

Personality

He is a kind, caring man when not in combat. He offers advice similar to that of your grandfather, and will always have a story ready should you ask. He enjoys some of the smaller things in life, gardens, strolls, even games of chess or cards. He finds joy in the moment. When he enters battle, a different Otto is seen. He is ferocious, cunning, and commanding. Not afraid to get stuck in, he uses his loyal Ghost Regiment to fight and keep the enemy maneuvering to control the flow of battle.

The Long Vigil of Otto von Gerwig

This is the story of Otto von Gerwig

Chapter 1: Early Life

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I was born in the waning years of the Holy Wars, or so historians call it these days. It was the year 978 BR, the 20th day of the 10th month, in a small village within the borders of Troverth when it was still on Osugbo. My mother, Raina, was a sweet woman. She wanted me to enter politics, or academics, to use my mind for something other than warfare, and to have a more typical childhood. My father, Andebert, was a stoic man. Harsh at times, he prepared me for military service. He instilled lessons of discipline, and honor from a young age. Under his guidance, I excelled in my craft, and by age 10 was far above my fellow children. The von Gerwig family had a long history of service to Troverth, serving as sergeant-at-arms within the armies or in the city garrisons for generations. My raising was done to prepare me for continuing this legacy. By the time I could properly train, read, and write, I was studying swordsmanship and military doctrine. My father enrolled me into the Engelhard Military Institute, Troverth’s best, when I was 12. It was here where I continued to study military tactics and doctrine, learning from veterans and analysts alike who served in the Holy War. The regimen of training and studying was designed to break the students, and remold them into leaders for Troverth. Many of my students dropped from the program, breaking under the pressure. The cowards did not deserve the opportunity they were afforded anyway. Lessons continued, and I began to excel in my classes. By the time I was 15 the war with the dragons was over, and victory had been secured. I continued in the academy until my graduation, in 1 PR, where I earned that coveted title of sergeant-at-arms. Unfortunately, the lessons I had learned would be required sooner than anyone anticipated.

In the year 2 PR, the Realm War broke out, and Troverth’s position was threatened by Champerty. The call to arms was raised across the Empire, and I answered. I was 19 when the war began, and my first command was a small formation of pikemen, the 151st Heavy Pikes,  assisting the various fronts against cavalry attack and footsoldier assaults from breaking our shield walls. We first entered combat in the year 3, fighting across various fronts with the main armies of Troverth. Casualties were low when we began, and hopes were high for a quick and decisive victory of our enemies. How wrong we were.

Chapter 2: Military Career

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We performed well in the war, until we were sent to the Phantom Front. That damned magical hole was the definition of hell. Champerty forces ground us down slowly but surely, withering our attacks with demons and magic. Tactics which had been successful previously, were no longer an option. The enemy combined a superior defensive position with magical enhancements to almost prevent a total frontal assault. As we ground forward, the formation began to crumble under the weight of loss and the attrition we faced. Eventually, we received word that the Champerts were attempting to encircle both of our flanks, and they nearly succeeded. Had it not been for one shogun, surely we would have been eradicated that day. As the Phantom Front continued to grind on, more and more of our formation fell, until the day I received the injury which removed me from frontline service.

In the year 15, my formation was reduced to 36% strength, but no reinforcements ever reached us. Command continued to funnel in the unskilled fodder they called the Barakas. These troops shored our center, but our veteran formations were thrown into the grinder to defend the flanks. The 151st was one such unit, and our meager number of men were caught out in a salient because an order to back step was never received. Our enemy took full advantage, and a series of attacks from demon and soldier alike smashed into both of the formation’s flanks. Axes, swords, spears all flashed and danced in the light, the blood of my men and the enemy mixed upon the ground. As the dead and wounded mounted, only a handful remained. We were crushed, surrounded, and slowly being picked off. The demons were the worst, they enjoyed the show, choosing not to outright kill us as they encircled our formation. They cut and stabbed at tendons, joints, and other non-vital areas. They bled us, slowing us to the point we could not fight back. Some of my men were pulled through the surrounding shield wall, their wails resounded over the cacophony of battle for what seemed like hours. AS the 151st was reduced to nothing, we continued to fight. Surrender was not an option because prisoners clearly were not being taken, and my men performed valiantly, down to the last man. As we tried desperately to break out, I felt something grab my sword hand, and a very hot sensation flooded my arm, followed by a very quick cold. I screamed, and looked to my side. A Champerty soldier was holding my severed forearm, and a demon’s blade was retracting to behind the wall. This was the last I remembered before falling unconscious on the field.

I awoke some time later, the sounds of wounded and dying men filled my ears. I looked around, and saw tent walls, and men and women clad in white clambering around what seemed like a sea of men. Recent casualties I suspected, but I had no idea how I reached the rear lines. This hospital was a despicable site. Men and boys receiving what little care the overwhelmed staff could give while they lay waiting to die. Laying in the officer’s ward, which was by no means any better than what the common soldier resided in, I was simply placed on a stretcher and given care first. I had nearly given up, or I think I had nearly given up. This particular experience is viewed through a fog as it was not entirely something I would look back upon in clarity due to my condition. I do remember my arm, removed from just below the elbow, was slowly bleeding through the bandages. Nurses and aides were constantly assuring me a healer would be by soon, but I was losing too much blood too quickly for this to be true, it was only a matter of time before I simply did not have enough to keep me alive. I laid there, staring at the tent roof thinking of my mother. How would she react to the death of her son? Would she recover? What would father think? Would I have done enough for him to be proud of his son? What of my sisters? They were too young to understand the concept of death, not in its entirety. As I lay there, waiting to either die or receive a miracle from some higher power, a healer arrived. In my delirious state, I thought she was an angel. Soft, golden hair, a voice so reassuring I believed I would rise from hearing it, a touch soft enough to instantly calm me. She removed my bandage, and she uttered an incantation, and with a soft glow the bleeding stopped. She brushed my hair from my face and that was the moment I fell in love. Her features, elven and beautiful, came into focus. She smiled down at me, saying that everything would be alright, I was able to go home. I looked at her, and held the hand placed upon my face, and asked her what she was called. Cellica, an angel sent to save me this day. As I recovered, we spoke more and more, connecting and learning more of each other. She was a high elf, whose family had established themselves well before Troverth came to power. She offered her healing services when war broke out, a sort of grand adventure for herself, and to practice her abilities. We became friends, and As my healing sessions began to end, a captain came to my bedside. I suspected I knew what he was going to tell me, and he confirmed my suspicions. I was relieved of duty, honorably discharged for wounds received in the field. I was also told I was going to receive the Emperor’s Cross, for distinguished leadership and service in the face of the enemy. Additionally, for my injuries, I would be receiving the Blooded Amulet. Finally, the captain gave me the campaign ribbon for the Phantom Front, for participation in the battle here. These commendations would certainly make my father proud, even if I returned with my injuries. After congratulations were given, by both the officer and Cellica, I was allowed to leave. However, I elected to remain as an aide, choosing to provide reassurance to the wounded that help would arrive, or writing letters to those families who had lost a son. I did this because I wanted something to flower with the elf who saved my life, and eventually something did.

I volunteered with the hospital service for another year, during this time Cellica expressed interest in perhaps allowing me to court her. It was a wonderful revelation, and soon after, I asked for her hand in courtship. We remained together for a year, working in the hospitals, until I received word that my father was ill. I had asked her to join me, so that my family may meet her, to which she very enthusiastically accepted.

Chapter 3: Civilian Life

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Upon our arrival at home, my mother and sisters ran to the front gates, and warmly embraced the both of us. Mother looked well, but it seems that father’s illness was more serious than originally anticipated. Her worry showed through her smile, but she was brightened by our return. My sisters were grown, far more than when I had left. One had entered secondary school, and was excelling as a writer. The other was leading her class in grades, and was nearly prepared to enter secondary school. They mulled over Cellica, asking enough questions for it to be considered an interrogation. She smiled, laughed, and answered all of their questions, when a cough came from the front entrance. Father was standing there, wearing his study robe and propping himself up on a cane. He looked frail, the skin tight to his frame, and the bags under his eyes gave away that he had not spelt well. I moved away from the group, approaching him, and offered my arm to take him to Cellica and the others, who were now making their way towards us. He refused, simply stating he could still move, and had some fight left. He approached the group slowly, and took the hand of Cellica, kissed it, and thanked her for bringing his son home. She beamed at him, before pulling him into a hug. Something was whispered to him, and he softly smiled in the embrace and returned it. We entered the home and I was asked by my father to see him in his study.

When I arrived within the room, he began to ask me about the war, what I had done before being discharged, what I had accomplished and earned. I regaled the tales of the 151st, telling him about what we did, what training was like. I told him of our first engagements, what actions were taken and how well the unit performed. I continued through 8 years of war, all the marching and camping, camping and marching, followed by the terror that was combat, and the return to marching. He seemed to brighten at how boring the early days of the war were for my unit, until he asked the very obvious question, which I was reluctant to answer. But I did tell him about the Phantom Front. I told him of our losses, of how the Champerts ground us down, using magic and demons to bolster their forces. I told him of our encirclement, and the destruction of the 151st. I told him of the sounds, and the sights, and the emotions that coursed through me. I told him of the moment I lost my arm, and what I feared would happen as a result. He seemed to darken at this, extending a hand and squeezing my shoulder. He said he was proud that I had served well, and that he was happy to see me return home at all. He knew that there were so many whose sons did not return. He considered my return a blessing, and he would not squander it by thinking me of less of a man because I was injured. I smiled at this, knowing I had lived up to the family expectations, and made him proud of me. Soon we reached the topic of Cellica. I told him that I loved her, deeply and truly and wanted to spend my life at her side, regardless of how short that would be to her. He seemed to approve of the notion, smiling and sitting me down. He informed me of his illness, something terminal affecting his heart, and in his advanced age it would certainly not be long before he passed. I told him that Cellica may be able to heal him, to remove whatever ailed him, but he refused. He said he led a good life, and was ready, but wanted to at least see a wedding. He raised his eyebrows at this and looked at me, hinting heavily that perhaps it was time. And so, in accordance with my father’s wishes, that night at family dinner I asked Cellica permission to spend my life by her side. I understood that she would outlive me by several centuries, however it was how I wanted to spend my life. She was overjoyed, as were my mother and sisters, and my father was pleased at this. We spent the falling three days planning the wedding, finding appropriate attire, and preparing ourselves. As the days passed, my father's condition worsened. It was clear that he had very little time, but our wedding was a beautiful ceremony. She used sending to contact her family, who arrived a day prior thanks to some magic teleportation. To say her father was imposing was an understatement. I was afraid he would never approve of our marriage, simply because of the way he carried himself. However, my father and he held a sort of negotiation or discussion and he warmed right up. The elf was happy to see his daughter off, even for a brief time, to a man who could defend the home and make her the center of his life. I was very gracious to the both of them, ensuring I could maintain my promise to Cellica’s father until the end of my days. With the promise made to her father, the wedding was set to begin.

To say that she was beautiful was the greatest understatement of my life. Nothing was comparable, not even the gods. The service was quick, yet elegant, which we both agreed on for the sake of my father. We were wed in both the way of her people, and the way of mine, to show our newly combined heritage. We had our hands bound in a silken cloth, with words of protection and unity uttered in elvish. The silk was then cut, and tied around our upper arms to ward off evil from our union. In the way of my people, we exchanged vows of love, protection, and unity. I gave her my vows, claiming to be the rock on which the waves of life will break, the bastion for our family, and uphold my love until my dying breath. Her vows, like herself, were beautiful, powerful, and the only reason I am able to dictate my life story centuries after it should have ended. She smiled, uttering these words:

With this kiss, I will be yours, in this life and the next. I will tend our garden, defend our walls, and light our path.

With this kiss, I will keep and hold you, an extension of me as I extend you. I will live my life with you, and you will live your life with me.

With this kiss, I gift you my life, my strength, my love, my being

I was unaware of the effects these words would have, but it was a spell of sorts. Following the ceremony, we ate with both families, hosting a feast with foods from both of our homes. We laughed, enjoying the company of both families, and lived within the light for the moment. As we retired for the night, my father came and talked to us both. He was elated to see such a beautiful ceremony, and to hear such beautiful vows. We thanked him, and I had asked if he would like to speak longer, but he insisted he was tired, and wished to sleep. It set in with this statement. He knew that today was his last, and I was grateful that he was able to see us together. I bid him good night, and will be prepared to comfort mother in the morning, and I embraced him. I held him tight, somewhat hopeful that it would keep him for even a day longer. He asked that everything be simple, and we told him it would be. He told me where his will was for the morning, and to help mother. He passed some time in the night.

We held a very simple funeral for him, as were his wishes. Cellica kept her family for the day, and we both worked to console mother. Her heart was broken, but she felt that he held long enough to see our wedding, and was happy that he did. Following the burial, we read his will, and he had altered it shortly after the wedding. He left the home and all of its possessions to mother, so she may live her life within the home they built together. To my sisters, he left several of his mother’s jewelry pieces, which they have been fascinated with since they were very small. And to Cellica and I, he left enough gold to relocate and build our own home, if need be. He thought of each of us, making sure that we were taken care of even after his passing. A great man indeed.

Cellica and I remained with my mother for the next year, keeping tabs on the ever changing conflict around us. It was the year 17 when we moved to establish our own home, but we ensured that mother was taken care of with my sisters for the time being. Cellica and I moved southward, to find a coastal city to relocate to. It was the furthest point from the battlefronts and would allow for a quick escape if we needed to. Be used about half of our gold to buy a small plot of land and build a small home. Made of stone and wood, it served as the beginnings of our new life together. We created a garden, growing produce and flowers which thrived in the coastal climate, and it was here where we remained for 5 years. In the year 20, Troverth landed on Amusa, establishing a new area within the Empire. We were eager to move there, being far enough away from the major battles which have taken a turn for the worst here at home. In the year 22 we decided to inform my mother of our leaving, but she insisted the war was still far from her and she would remain. It was hard, but I accepted her wishes to remain in the home her and father built. I wished her well, and where they could find us should she change her mind. As Cellica and I sailed, we wondered what the new continent would be like and what our home would become.

We built another humble cottage on the outskirts of the main city, begun when the initial landings occurred, to begin a small farm or brewing company. We knew the gold would not last forever, so we tried to create our own income. In the year 33, some 11 years after our arrival here, the war ended with a defeat for Troverth. As a result, the city we were living in exploded with refugees and those fleeing across the sea. Using 11 years of income, Cellica and I built a new business, a tavern for those coming across the sea. This business venture worked well for us, and we continued to expand with the city. Our tavern opened a second location, then a third. We began to build our life here in the city, even building a new home closer to our taverns for ease of administration, much more grand and designed for raising a family, should we want to.

Over time, I realized something. I was no longer aging, or was doing so incredibly slowly. In the year 33 I should have been 50, but I still looked and felt no older than 30. This was the gift Cellica had given me. A longer life, to spend more by her side, her vows coming true as she extended my life to match hers. We can spend our days together, practically letting our taverns run themselves for the foreseeable future, living life in love, spending our time together. We took strolls through the city, went on dates to the parks, every moment was perfect with her.

We continued living this life for the next 200 years. The city has expanded well into a metropolis, and a center for technological and academic advances. Tinkerers began experimenting with iron and steel, creating machines and contraptions for both war and life. Due to my veteran status, I was enrolled in a program to acquire a replacement for my missing arm. These tinkerers began creating hands and legs of iron and steel, brass and copper, even gold and silver if you could afford it. I accepted the offer, with much delight from Cellica, and my first prosthetic was attached. It was serviceable, offering me the basic ability to use my dominant hand once more, but the movements took time getting used to. It was unresponsive at times, with the joins seemingly locking or it did not do exactly what I wanted it to. However, for an early production or prototype it was well made. A copper exterior over a dark steel mechanism it was impressive to see. As time progressed, so did the technology for these prosthetics. Over the next 60 years, I received two more versions of the arm, with the final being the most complex device I had seen, and the one that worked the best. It felt weightless, nimble, responsive. It felt like I had my one flesh and bone back. I asked the tinkerers for a dark steel mechanism and a golden exterior, even going so far as to ask for silver inlays into the gold. They seemed eager to oblige, for the right price. Within the next week, I had a new, shiny arm. Cellica loved it, commenting on its elegance and strength, and how it suits me. I was so happy she liked it and told her as such. I finally felt whole. In order to get more used to the arm, I began training with it, rekindling my swordsmanship skills. Apparently, this gave Cellica an idea.

On the 280th anniversary of our wedding, in the year 296, Cellica called for me within my study. As I entered the room, she stood there in a beautiful blue dress, and her bright smile. She told me she had a gift, for both our love and my work with my prosthetic. She produced a saber from behind her back, and it was as beautiful as she was. The hilt was a brightly polished gold with a copper colored grip. The basket guard was beautifully woven to resemble the leaves upon a tree branch. The blade was a polished steel, and shone brightly when removed from the scabbard. It was almost too nice to use as a sword, and should have been hung as an heirloom. However, when these concerns were voiced, Cellica simply stated that she ensured it was designed for use, and was a capable blade to defend her love. I was overjoyed, the blade was the best gift I could have received from the love of my life. I had planned her gift as well, her favorite chocolates, her favorite home cooked meal, and some of the finest wine I could find. But this paled in comparison to her gift to me, but I gave them nonetheless. She seemed so happy that I liked her gift, I can only hope mine was enough this time.

Chapter 4: Building a Family

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It was two years later, in 298 when Cellica came to me with a request, one I was so very happy to hear. Cellica proposed a family, children of our own, apparently feeling that there was room for more love within our home. We started our family in the year 300, with the birth of our son, Reyner. When he entered our lives, we were nearly as happy as the day we were wed. He was a healthy boy, with softly pointed ears and a face clearly from his mother. His eyes matched mine, as did his hair. Our bedroom became a nursery, our den a playroom, and our son became the center of our world. As the years passed and he grew, we instilled our life lessons into him. Cellica taught him grace, compassion, negotiation, and healing magic. I taught martial prowess, civics, politics, and chivalry. Reyner became a well rounded young man by the time his formal education began. We placed him in a private institution for his education, mostly to help him build powerful relations with the children of Troverth’s elite. Paying for this education was becoming taxing, even with three successful taverns. I elected to use my military service for the city, and joined the city guard services. The government income was enough when combined with the taverns to keep Reyner in school until he graduated. Once he graduated, he began to work as a clerk for a lawyer within the city, who helped teach and guide him into the right schools to continue within the same career. Through the pay from his work and scholarships, Reyner was able to pay his own way, and become the city’s new public defender by 340. Cellica and I were so proud, but were more proud of his finding love. A sweet half-elf girl born the same year he was. Her name was Mira. She worked within the law school’s library, and the two took a liking to each other. He brought her to visit the first time after dating for nearly a year. Cellica and I were both receptive to her, finding her both book-smart and witty.  She reminded me of Cellica when we first met, and Reyner was certainly like myself. After two years of dating, on graduation day, Reyner asked for her hand in marriage, which received a very enthusiastic yes. They were married in the same manner Cellica and I were, to uphold family traditions, in the year 341. As Reyner continued to practice law, I decided to continue in the guard. The regimen was familiar, and it was gratifying work. The city itself had very little crime, the guard presence was more for show than anything. In the year 350, I was promoted to a sergeant officer, now being able to issue the commands of the day to my squadron of guards. This was where I began to excel for the city. Cellica was also far happier with this, because I was able to stay in the barracks rather than take to the streets.

In the year 400, two major events happened within my life. The first, was the birth of my daughter, Alea. She was healthy, but smaller than her brother. She was so similar to her mother, her golden hair, slightly-pointed ears, and piercing white eyes. She took on my facial features, and nothing else. Within the same year, Reyner and Mira also had their first child. A boy they named Luitwin. Luitwin was very much like his father, a stoic boy who enjoyed reading and learning. Luitwin grew up and entered the same school his father did, studying in the sciences, particularly biology and anatomy. He also learned the ways of healing magic from Cellica, using his studies and her magic to begin a small clinic within the city. Cellica and I were happy to see both children come into the world, and prepared for their futures accordingly. As Alea grew, she became quite the spitfire. She was energetic, creative, and adventurous. Containing her was nearly impossible, which was a stark difference from her brother. I still attempted to teach her martial skill, in the event that she ever needed it, but also took to more creative outlets. I added lessons of survival and camping to her lessons. Cellica taught her painting, literature, even cartography if she wanted. We inadvertently set our daughter up to become an adventurer or mercenary. She picked up the bow quite well, and when she entered her teen years, became an avid hunter and tracker. We did not bother sending her to school, when private tutors could easily teach her all she needed of history, mathematics, and language. We allowed our daughter to grow in her own way, and she proved this method to be the best for her. As she grew into a young adult, she set out into the surrounding areas, joining an adventuring guild, and hunting several beasts in the area. It was in this guild that she met her love, a man named Perceval Garnier. Perceval was a tinkerer, creating many of his own devices and weapons. A smart lad, he resonated well with Alea and her need to learn and explore the world, showing her what his sciences are capable of. The two were wed in 450. They held a unique service in the guild hall, with enough alcohol involved that breathing in the air was enough to feel a buzz. And it was one of the most fun nights I have had in a long time.

Three years after their wedding, in 453,  Alea and Percival had their first child, a bouncing baby girl they named Antoinette. She took after her mother in almost every way. She was rambunctious, and quite the handful, but kind and compassionate. She followed her mother and father, as she grew she joined the adventurer’s guild, becoming quite skilled with a greataxe, and channeling her energy into her combat. Her parents taught her everything she would need to know, and her grandpa enthusiastically told her stories from when he used to battle on the regular. Our family was growing, and growing quite quickly.

The next 7 years saw great growth for our family. Our children were growing, our grandchildren were growing, and Cellica and I were going to be blessed with more happy news. In 460, Reyner and Mira had a boy, and named him Askan. He was more like his mother than Luitwin was; soft-spoken, wanting to read everything, and trying their best to keep to themselves. Through school, Askan excelled in literature and linguistics, learning a total of 9 languages by the time he graduated. He entered politics as an ambassador for Troverth, and led a somewhat successful career representing our empire abroad. Alea and Percival also had a boy, which they named Lucien. He was an oddity for their family, which was quite interesting to see. He was reserved, shy, and above all, interested in religion. He began taking part in services dedicated to Sarenrae, the goddess of light, and when he became old enough, became one of her clerics. Cellica and I even asked him to retake our vows on our 500th anniversary in 516. Lucien had a twin, named Aiwin. He was cunning, sly, and a damned good liar. He learned to wield daggers and hide in plain sight from his mother, and was given mechanical advantages by his father, including wrist-mounted, retractable blades when he turned 18. He tried his best to keep to himself, stay quiet, and remain under your radar. He got into trouble every once and a while, but nothing very serious. An apple missing here, perhaps a copper or silver piece there, that was his specialty. And I loved him for it. I often asked him to help my men train in finding criminals who could run and hide, or possibly had networks. He usually won the exercises through deception, avoidance, and picking my squad off one by one. He always got some spare gold when he won, so it kept him out of other people’s pockets. Our family was grown, and of course these grandchildren would have children of their own, but they never visited often enough for Cellica or I to find out what they did with their life.

Chapter 6: Curse of Longevity

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The family suffered its first loss in 500. Cellica and I lost our oldest, Reyner. He lived a good life, living 200 years with half of it being in service of the law in Troverth. He requested a simpler service, with family and close friends only, and to be led by Lucien. It was a beautiful service, and something Cellica and I both expected we would have to get used to. I may be able to live as long as an elf, but I was still human, and our children were only half gifted with elven longevity. As such, we would outlive our own children, but with generations continuing to grow, our family name would go on. Reyner was buried in a new mausoleum tended to by Lucien’s congregation and fellow clerics. Following the funeral, we convened at our home, and celebrated Reyner’s life. The work he completed in law around the city to better the community he served, and the love he gave to his wife and children. It was a touching scene.

Percival was the next to pass, in 505, which devastated poor Alea. A full human, he lived as full a life as he could, spending 55 years with Alea and building a beautiful family. The guild immortalized him in the hall, adding his portrait to their “Wall of Heroes” alongside many other adventurers who have passed since the guild’s founding. His funeral was as simple as they come, he requested to be cremated, and his ashes placed within the guild hall. The dedication was astounding. His friends and guild members raised a drink, in unison sent him off, and began the merriments of drinking and sharing stories of him. Following the celebration of his life, Alea, Antoinette, Aiwin, and Lucien returned to their home to mourn and celebrate in their own way.

Reyner’s wife Mira joined her husband in 510. Her service was done similarly to Reyner’s, and she was interred alongside her love. Her children and grandchildren mourned her, and celebrated her life the same as they celebrated the others. A close-knit clan we are, I suppose. But it was a beautiful coming together over the past few years, and with more loss to follow, our family had expanded and contracted, like the waves upon a beach. Thus was the beauty and pain of life.The joy of living, brought down by the pain of death and loss. Thankfully, we endure to create new life and allow the dead to be remembered.

In the year 550 I received another promotion in the guard. Rather than commanding one patrol of city guards, I was placed in charge of a district. It was an area of the city referred to as “Silver Row” because it was a relatively middle class merchant district. Most goods could be purchased with little gold or mostly silver pieces, giving it the nickname. Usually a quiet area of the city, Silver Row was a nice assignment. Under the watch of my men, with some help from Aiwin, the low crime rates dropped to nearly nothing. Every once in a while, a small purse would be stolen or some fruit taken, but it was peaceful here. This made it easier to open yet another tavern, but our expansion into the business would stop after this. Cellica began planning an extension on our home shortly after our newest tavern opened. She wanted a sunroom to face the west, and enjoy the sunsets we can see from our hilltop home. She also asked that we build a greenhouse so she may grow a variety of plants year round. I could never say no to her, and over the next 5 years, I gave her the best sunroom and greenhouse I could manage. We continued to love and live together, and our family continued to grow as new generations continued to add to the family.

Life remained uneventful until 610, when Luitwin passed away. The first of our grandchildren, his death served as a reminder that longevity is as much a curse as it is a blessing. Outliving not just one, but two generations certainly pains the soul. Luitwin was celebrated for his service in medicine, and as a physician within the city. He healed many, from all walks of life, and from all classes. He wanted to give the gift of health to as many as he could, and showed the light within him. He left behind a wife and child, and we all remembered him fondly. Luitwin elected for a more simple burial plot, to reflect his down-to-earth nature when it came to his medical practice. We helped pay for the plot, leaving enough room for the rest of his family, to ensure they would remain together in eternity.

Cellica and I lost Alea in 650. The last of our own children passed peacefully. She did get to see her grandchildren before passing, and Antoinette, Aiwin, and Lucien were with her when she did pass. This made me happy, as she was surrounded by her closest family. She too had an adventurer’s funeral within the guild hall. Her portrait was hung next to Percival’s on the “Wall of Heroes” and her ashes were placed next to his. Two two are certainly hunting in the fields of Elysium, or so Lucien says. I hope he’s right. Losing one child was terrible, losing both is almost unbearable. But they deserve that eternal joy.

Chapter 7: Guard of Troverth

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In the year 670, I received some very disturbing news. There was a string of break-ins and homicides within the Silver Row that gave the community quite the scare. A general sense of anxiousness settled over the district, wondering when the next victim would be found. The person had a very particular target, or at least that is what it seemed. The victims were both men and women, but were of gnomish or elven descent. Additionally, they each sold items which were crafted by local wood. The killer usually left a specific item as a sort of calling card. They used a small hatchet to slash a rune of sorts into the sales counter within their shops, surrounded by sticks of this local tree. It has been left at every scene, but the rune is not recognized by either myself or the guard. However, pulling from resources from the various schools in the city, we discovered the rune to be primordial, and it was a call for the balance of life and death. Someone thought these clues led to a perpetrator being of elven descent, possibly connected to druidic circles who was enacting some very violent revenge for the trees. I ordered more patrols, to at least allow the community to feel safer. However, to lure out the possible killer, I ordered a shop vacated by the owner, an older elven woman who had been wood carving for some time. I then had one of my finer officers, a sergeant named Quintessa, apply a magical disguise and work late for her shift. She obliged, taking the place of the shop owner. That night, our trap was laid, and almost at exactly 12 in the morning, our trap was sprung. Quintessa was “cleaning the shop” in an effort to better show exhaustion and bring the killer out. It was not long before an elven woman approached the door, knocking on it asking where she was in the city. Our officer in disguise approached the door and told the woman the shop was closed, and to come back, but the stranger stated that her mother was sick and lived in the Green Patch (an area of the city inhabited by a mostly tree-dwelling populace) and wanted to know what direction to go. Quintessa opened the door slightly to point the stranger in the right direction, when the elf woman shoved her way inside. This woman then asked the officer how she could work with such materials and if she knew the pain it caused the forest when these trees were removed. Quintessa stalled, stammering out words while the officers in hiding advanced on the building, shouting for the woman to give up, she was caught. Quintessa then drew her own blade, and pointed it at the elf. She was detained, and brought to the holding cells in the barracks until the courts opened the next day. After some intense interrogation, she admitted to the killings, claiming to be restoring balance to the area for all the death the wood workers had caused. Needless to say, the trial was fast, seeing her sent to prison, even faster. It was excellently executed, and the actions of my guards were to be commended. I offered bonuses for the quick solving of the case, and the excellent work on Quintessa’s part in setting the bait. However, this was the most excitement I would see for a very long time.

Because of the actions in my district, I received another promotion. This however, was to command a very experimental unit. In 700, the city of Troverth wanted to experiment with the idea of a warforged guard force, or possibly even an army. Intrigued at the prospect of robotic guards, I accepted the position and met the first five. I was given the designation Komandant Alpha, with each member of a squad receiving a designation following. The first squad was Able, and it contained Beta, Gamma, Delta, Epsilon, and Zeta, which were certainly unique. The bots were slender, yet rugged looking. They somewhat resembled humans, standing all at 6 foot 3, with a sort of tabard painted onto their chests. It was a red color, like what the guards I had worked with previously were, and we began to work together to understand what their purpose was. The bots performed well in agility and pursuit, able to move faster than the other guards, and they were adept in hand-to-hand and unarmed combat. It was clear they were designed for this position. They were also fiercely loyal, following any command given to them. Troverth was going to be safe in their hands, and I was honored to spearhead their deployments. We began to use them to patrol areas previously unavailable to our human guards, either because we were not as agile, or because of environmental factors. They excelled, and so production began on two more squads. Bravo squad was the next produced, made of Theta, Iota, Kappa, Lambda, and Mu. They were painted with a yellow chest, to differentiate the squads, and were deployed in similar manners. Bravo squad was responsible for a massive arrest, before going and fighting the Draconic Crusades that have been raging for the last 9 years. Sending them off was difficult. They performed well, never once complained, and made life so much easier. But, the Emperor promised replacements, replaced they were.

Before my replacements for the Commando Reconnaissance Units arrived, Askan passed in 720. He received a funeral fit for a king. His work as an ambassador helped to secure at least some connections within Amusa. There were foreign ambassadors, government officials, many many friends, and of course his family. The Emperor saw it fit to inter him within the halls of other ambassadors and great men of politics. It was truly an honor, and we are allowed to visit any time we choose. May his name forever ring in the halls of history as a good man. It was shortly after this where I received my first BDG, or BoDyGuard, units. These were certainly different from the CRU units. They were massive, powerful units, who need not carry weapons. They could kick in doors, carried their blasters within their arms, and were sufficiently armored to stand up to significant abuse. They were pressed into guard service around 722, and remained there for quite some time. Tragedy struck our family once again in 750, with the passing of Antoinette. She had a funeral to match her parents’ services. The adventurer’s guild was willing to send off their favorite barbarian, and did so in the only way they knew how. She hangs on the “Wall of Heroes” just below her parents. Of course, a decade later in 760, Aiwin passed. His funeral was simply Cellica, Myself and Lucien. It seems that Aiwin spent his life either alone, or simply chose not to inform others of his failing health. Either way, his service was beautiful. His time as an adventurer gave him enough money to be placed in a personal crypt, his favorite places to be. He was buried with most of his treasures, and enough traps to give even the most experienced grave robber a reason to pause. Just the way he wanted it. Our family life remained relatively peaceful until 800.

Chapter 8: More Modern Times

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In 800, Lucien passed, and joined the fields of Elysium with his goddess. His service was held with just Cellic and I. The clergy of his church mourned separately from us, inturing him within a burial in the center of the church. He was hailed as a hero, and great messenger of Sarenrae, and so became a saint for his church. Cellica and I were so proud of all of our children and all they accomplished. We were only sad to see them gone in what seemed like the blink of an eye. Following Lucien’s death, Cellica desired to retire from running the taverns, and expressed a desire for me to retire from the guard. I wanted nothing more, but also knew that I needed to begin the transition of a new commander for the Warforged Program. I told her I would talk to my superiors to begin the transition, and would begin to cut back on my time at the barracks in order to spend more time with her. I began training a new commander, a wonderful dwarf who had the respect of his commanders and mine. He was a natural choice and he naturally took to the command of the bots. I worked with him for nearly a decade, explaining how the bots functioned, how they communicated, what their strengths were. He seemed to absorb my lessons, coordinating human and robotic guard squads to better protect the city. His programs were seamless, almost like he personally entered the minds of those he commanded and worked them to his exact plans. He was a gifted commander, and I knew the city would be in good hands under his guidance. Every once in a while he would check in on how the bots were. Over the draconic wars, he watched their transponders for body retrieval activate, and deactivate with time. Being across the continent it was simply impossible to gather them all. I  watched the last remaining CRUs fall over time, either becoming derelict or being destroyed by something. Even so, elements of each squad remained, scattered across the continent. Charlie squad was still active in Troverth, until they received the ability to retire in 850. Iota of Bravo squad is now serving as a receptionist within the Barracks, handling reports of crimes and designating what squads should react. Beta, Gamma, and Delta all began to serve as personal guards to the Emperor’s family, especially his daughter. My heart sinks every time I look at Bravo Squad. Iota is the only bot in known condition. Theta and Lambda are both considered missing, their transponders never activating. I watch their status with great interest, waiting for the moment that we can attempt to bring them home, or they return home on their own.

Life remained uneventful, my retirement was nearing and I was spending more time with my wife. Cellica was showing her age more and more, but living a century will certainly do this. I was confused, I had only progressed physically roughly 20 human years, so what kind of magic was used? Was I going to outlive my wife? Would I suddenly accelerate in years and wither into nothing if she passed? All of these unknown questions could absolutely wait, there was still time with my wife to be had. We enjoyed every moment together, going on dates similar to those we went on when we were first married. We spent time in the parks, traveled to the shops, and spent nights stargazing. The time I had left was the most splendid I had in a very, very long time. My work was behind me, the rest of my life with Cellica was ahead of me. I was as happy as when we were first married, and I could tell that Cellica was much happier now that I had retired from the guard force. We spent the next 50 years by each others’ sides, ensuring each moment was joyous and full of love. I am so very glad I did this, as on the 14th day of Rranos, 850, Cellica passed in her sleep.

The light of my life was finally gone. She looked so peaceful when I awoke the morning she passed. She was rolled on her side, seemingly looking at me while she slept. She passed with a small smile on her face, the same she wore throughout her life. I was the only one at her funeral. I made sure it was fit for her. A sorrowful smile on my face, as she was certainly reunited with the rest of our children in Elysium. She wanted a simple burial, but I added just the smallest bit of flair to her memorial, for she was a woman who deserved the small amount of flair my simple heart could give. I inlaid golden trim in the elven style to the edges of her gravestone, and in Sylvan, an inscription upon the back of the stone. It read:

It was with a kiss you gave me life, and it is with a kiss I will send you away

I will watch over you, until the day a kiss sends me back to you.

My eternity, my love, my Cellica

After the burial, I mourned the loss of my love. My family was now gone, but I wanted to live on. Over the next 40 years I expected the magic to fade, to age quickly as a normal human should. But I did not. I was aging just as slowly as I had when she was young. Whatever spell or magic she used was lingering beyond her death. This was both disheartening and wonderful. On one hand, It could be another century before I can be reunited with her in Elysium, something I could hardly accept at the time of her death. On the other hand, I can use her gift to continue her legacy, the legacy of service and charity for the city of Troverth. In accordance with her wishes according to her last will, I began to open the taverns once a week to those less fortunate, using them as places where those who could not normally afford a meal could receive one. With the success of these establishments, I sought to spend what I had to create more, starting the Cellica von Gerwig homes. These homes were designed to take in the homeless, the runaway, the broken, because Cellica would have wanted her love shared with all. With the success of the homes and the kitchens, the legacy of Cellica was secured, and I found great joy in giving back to the community we lived in. Something very peculiar happened in 890.

I returned to the Troverth barracks, just curious as to its affairs and happenings. I met with the warforged Kommandant, and he showed me the most recent transponder activity on the CRUs. Lambda had been reactivated, and he was moving. We watched over the next several months to see him travel across Dolina, seemingly to places he had already been. It was a miracle to say the least. I volunteered my services once again to the warforged program, in an effort to keep an eye on our venerable robotic friend. When he would move, we followed his path, watching as he would travel, stop for a few days or even a week, and then move again. It was like he was searching these areas, or at least taking time to look into them. We could not discern why a bot designed for war was doing so, unless he was reliving his experiences. But his system feedback signatures showed no internal damage to his memory, so we were stumped. We simply watched in awe. He kept at this pattern for several years, until something radical happened. In 893 I watched as he traveled to Galik. Not just the territory, but the city itself. I watched as he hung around a certain tavern, and a training arena not far off. He seemed to be routine. One one occasion, he gave us a scare. He was deactivated momentarily while in the arena, only to be reactivated not long after. Perhaps he was facing combat and falling unconscious. Why, we could not tell. However, at least he was with someone who could heal his injuries, we just hope that his armor panels are remaining in a state of minimal damage. There is no way for us to send him replacements without interfering with whatever business he had going on. While we watched, we monitored Theta as well. His transponder had never deactivated, but we were receiving no signal. Lightning never strikes the same place twice, but miracles can happen. Then one day, Lambda was being flung into The Scar. Too rapidly to be moving on foot, and into a deeply unexplored area, he was placed. He was moving, then stopping, a half day’s journey from where he landed. Then he was running, and twice in one day, deactivated momentarily. Something  had happened there in The Scar, something that gave our bot a brush with death. He returned to his clearing, and he seemed to stay there for quite some time. I monitor his progress with great intrigue, and have a teleportation stone prepared for if he is deactivated more…permanently.

It appears that our bot has taken part on a few other adventures. Unfortunately, each time he goes out, he seems to find trouble. He’s been deactivated far more times than we’ve actually been able to keep an accurate count of. Something in the realm of 12–15. It’s worrying, but he’s bounced back every time. I still keep my teleportation stone ready in the event that it is needed. Hopefully, it won’t be for some time.

I suppose I stand corrected. About halfway through Kentgannon, the transponder activated. Oddly, within the ground of the camp he’s been staying at, but it could mean he was murdered. I grabbed my teleportation stone, and whatever I had handy, and got there as quickly as I could. What I saw, well it baffles me more than anything.

Chapter 9: Camp of the Tempest

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When the teleportation was finished, I stood in a mass of tents, maybe home to roughly 30-40 individuals. But the transponder was pinging within the tent in front of me. As I opened the tent flap, I was somewhat startled. There was a rather large tiefling woman holding the transponder and a smaller red kobold, who appeared to be attempting to either grab or touch the unit. I asked where she had gotten this piece of technology, hoping to glean if Lambda was actually dead. The kobold yelled intruder, and the next thing I knew, I was pinned. I guess in the moment, I had summoned 14 from the Regiment, and he tried to physically intimidate the creature. I called for diplomacy, because the small red dragonkin mentioned Lambda by name, so surely he knows the bot. I was trying to piece together what this camp was exactly, when another white kobold approached and answered my questions. Apparently, it’s an expedition of sorts. And Lambda was not dead, but was off somewhere on the anniversary of his initial death. It made sense now, but why would he leave his emotional processor behind? Well, the red kobold was apparently large and in charge here, asking who I was and why I was here, and of course what I wanted with Lambda. I explained my mission, how I was ordered to retrieve his body, but since he is alive in Dolina, there is no purpose to that mission. More specifically, I told him that Lambda was the last bot active outside of Troverth, and I wanted to make sure he was brought home if he was killed. They were all sons to me, my greatest soldiers. It’d be a shame to lose him. Eventually, I convinced the red kobold to let me off the ground, which might I say, his tackle fixed a few years of back problems, and I introduced myself as Kommandant Alpha. The white kobold told me their name is Kompi, which I find to be an adorably fitting name. The white tiefling explained that the processor was placed in their care, and she wanted to make it into a necklace. I knew a sort of design feature for that exact reason, and asked for the crystal, she was hesitant, which I understood, but eventually I got the crystal and made the necklace. After handing it back, I explained how it worked, mostly, and she introduced herself as Marion. I then told her my actual name, Otto.

Following this exchange, I went to register my services with the company. Before getting there, the red kobold approached me. He apologized for the tackle, and I told him it was all settled. He did what his instincts told him to do. But he also answered a question I had. He said that we’ve done 3 retrievals, but Iota was our only success and Lambda is alive. Then he said it. Theta. He died a very long time ago, and his reactivation is certainly unsettling. It might not be impossible, but his transponder should have activated. Unless his emotional processor is damaged or missing entirely, we should have seen his signature. I’ll have to keep note on that, because he could be repaired and returned to service back home, or be destroyed and left to rest.

The following day, I was reading a history of the Holy War, when Marion approached me. She seemed interested in what I was reading, and we had a discussion about conflicts and how they always affect the future. While we chatted, we shared what brought us here and how she ended up befriending the bot. She seems to like that he’s caring, not making fun of her for her religion and being a genuinely decent person. (I have never been so proud to hear those words. I knew the processors were a good idea.) she talked of Theta, and his execution of an ally. She spoke of what she liked of Lambda, and how he always puts the needs of the many far ahead of his own. Eventually, she asked about my past, so I told her. I told her I am a very old man, far older than I look. I served in the Realm War, I was a boy when the dragon gods were sealed away, and a very old man when the crusades began. We talked more, and eventually I took my mask off. She complimented my young appearance for being over 900 and I told her how it was possible. She’s a sweet thing, and I see why Lambda enjoys her company. She mentioned a “Nass”. I wonder who or what that could be.

I learned The red kobold’s name. Sneeze. It’s oddly appropriate, and introduced myself as Otto. We spoke of the crusades for a bit, and whether I supported them. I told him I had no choice but to send my bots to war, and that what happened was overkill. The dragonkin did not deserve the wraith of humanoids because of what Dragons did, but the humanoids had to kill something. He seemed satisfied with the answer, but I’m sure he holds some sort of grudge for what happened.

I then met a fox, with two tails? It was certainly an interesting creature, which was only compounded when they spoke in my head. They are a Druid named Wiggler, which doubles my intrigue in them. It’s an odd name to say the least. They seemed interested in my book on the Phantom Front, and we struck up a conversation on it. After giving a brief history lesson, and I let him read through my personal war diary as part of the lesson. I toyed with him, hoping he would catch on soon, until I dropped the tidbit that I was the owner, and I am a very very old man. It was worth the chuckle.

The following day, I met another new individual. A satyr of pure white, and she is certainly an intriguing one. She painted a series of paintings on one canvas, meaning a different image was viewed from different angles. She seemed almost in a trance, and the scene she painted was a very dark one. She speaks sylvan, and mentioned a Moon Court and a Duskvale Court. Her name is Heiress Amaris Luanach, which of course flattened me. How was I to know she was royalty? As we spoke, I learned she also knows Lambda, and in fact was caring for him in one capacity of another. She’s a tough one, so I doubt she will ever tell me what they actually worked on. Well, she asked for a story, so I told her of how I lost my arm. Inadvertently, a man wearing full armor approached. He listened in, even offering takes of his own. His name is Felix, and he revealed he does not wear armor, but is armor, which I have given up on understanding.

I have now met royalty from another plane, as well as a knight. Sir Eedryll of the Court of Seasons, he’s also an interesting character. We spoke of the hardships of the camp, where they need manpower and what the main threats are now. Apparently, gnolls are the main threat to camp, which is not ideal. He seems genuine, and caring for the flock of mortals he has been sent with. They are in very capable hands.

Sir Eedryll and I seem to be getting along well enough, but I am noticing some amounts of infighting between him and a tiefling named Reedy, for what reason I cannot say. Hopefully not everyone is quarrelling with each other, or the division will lead to weakness for this troop. But what I am noticing is that these missions are taking a heavy toll on the company members.They don't always pay the ultimate price, but their mental fortitudes are being shaken. Wiggler faced a hard challenge, and I had feared for his well being.I've seen soldiers breakdown before, becoming incapable of thought, movement, or coherency. They simply became a husk, which I hope does not happen to anyone here.

The following day, I met one Paris Hilton. And to see she seems out of her environment is an understatement. Bright pink everything and seemingly within her own world. She called me "Otty" which...well to be frank I hated that. But I'm just going to keep that to myself for now.

Turns out that simply leaving an open invite to tea attracts the oddest of visitors. Sneeze sat and joined me this morning,asking about the chess pieces. I was going to teach him, and I think he can at least learn the basics much as I have, but I do not believe it is the game for him. When we were talking, we both noticed Marion sitting by the fire, and it was quite clear that she had something on her mind. We talked for some time about her goddess, Beshaba, and a recurring dream she's been having. That and her understanding of fate and predetermination, which I for one never agree with, although my very existence was practically the definition of luck. What worried me was her determination to die for this deity, if she deemed it so. Marion strongly believes that this Beshaba will tell her when to die, and she will just do so. I told her that she can leave the self-sacrifice to soldiering types, because we became soldiers so that no one else had to choose between life and death. Realizing that I cannot change her mind, I did the only thing I could think to do to at least bring some peace to this poor girl. I undertook my rights as a Troverthian Sergeant-at-Arms, and with the help of 2, inducted Marianne Attol and Sneeze the Kobold into the Troverthian Expeditionary Legion, first of its name. I just hope what I did was right, and I'm not condemning another young life to death.

A few days later, I watched a group leave the camp to slay a dragon. Or at least a mimic of one? My understanding of what exactly was happening was very limited at the time. I was worried that not all would return, but this company has hired some hearty hands, as all returned in one piece. I was happy to report this to Cellica that night.

The following day, the mist came.

What exactly it was, I have absolutely no clue. I was speaking with Sir Eedryll when one of his heart-sworn, a younger looking woman he called Olla, came stumbling into the tent, coughing flies and bleeding from open sores across her body. I placed my breather mask on, but I too was consumed by the lesions. And they hurt worse than any poison that Champerty drew up. Leaving the tent and entering camp was a nightmare in itself. Everyone was affected by this poison cloud, including Lambda, which only goes to show how dire this attack really was. WHen I entered the medical tent, i saw him there, bound in more rope than was necessary and covered in sheet metal, seeming in an attempt to keep the bot down. Why though, I cannot say. But I sent one of my men to begin freeing him and went to help investigate a scream, before Sir Eedryll approached with knowledge of what was happening. He rode off, and I volunteered to stay behind. That's when the shouting of Bjorn was heard. His wife was taken, somehow. Pulled through the mist by something unseen. Then I lost my connection with the double I left in the medical tent. Something wasn't right, and my worst fears were confirmed. My double was destroyed, and Lambda was gone. As the source of the mist was destroyed, the illnesses stopped and we could collect ourselves again. I asked Heiress Luanach to try sending a message to Lambda, and she received that he was underground, heading west. We began everything to try and find where the missing company members were, and I stressed over a map and reports trying to find something, anything, but the area was too large, and time was running out. Heiress Luanach tried to reach Lambda again, but there was only static. He's at least on this plane and alive.

I then read a report of one "Dragonett", and it finally clicked. There is a good chance that the two may have been taken to a cave not far from camp, which would make a certain amount of sense for hostage maneuvering. At this point, it was up to the company to get a rescue going, and it seems that the group will be going after the bot first, choosing him instead of preventing those gnolls from attacking a nearby town. I wish I could join them, but I am needed on another action.

The day of our hostage rescue came. We needed to send two teams out, as Mathilda was in one direction, and Lambda in other. To make matters more complicated, Bjorn, Mathilda's husband, decided to go after her on his own. While I absolutely disagreed with that course of action, I did understand it. My team was well rounded, three barbarians including Sneeze and our ranged backfield was full of casters and Reedy as our ranger. We felt ready to retrieve our friends, but how ill prepared we were. The Blood Swamps around the Scar are certainly no place that I would like to go back too. The water acts the same as blood, smells the same, looks the same, and of course is knee-deep. We approached a set of ruins within the swamp, and there was our main foe. Jim Stacy stood before us, and it looked like he had some words, but one of our barbarians, a half-orc named Dickweedus, charged him immediately. While I don't believe that it had any effect on the final outcome of the battle, I think a chance to maneuver our forces would have been appreciated. As the battle commenced, Sneeze became commanded by Stacy, and it became clear his target was Reedy, the one who condemned him to this fate. We tried our best to not hurt the kobold, but damage seemed to be what broke the spell. Our forces were divided between various enemies, and Jim Stacy, who slowly advanced on us in his hulking form. At one point, I became charmed by Jim, and I attacked my once friends. I still feel terrible for my old mind being so easily overpowered by an enemy, and for attacking my friends. It became clear we may be in over our heads, as Reedy went down to his attacks. Then our casters, then myself and Sneeze. Soon, Dickweedus was the sole fighter against Jim Stacy, and he cleaved that monster in half. With the main threat defeated, we rushed Reedy over to Mathilda, who sent a desperate prayer to her god. But there was no reply. Reedy had perished at the hands of Jim Stacy, as had Sneeze. Both were felled fighting Stacy, and both are sorely missed.

Not long after returning from the mission, A new face arrived in our camp. A drow woman named Captain Amelie "Lux" Luxaeterna. She seems decent enough and having another soldier around can at least help us on missions by having a more solidified frontline. Barbarians are nice, but they often lack the discipline to listen to reason and battle strategy. She says that we've disturbed something below and she is to act an ambassador between our group and her people. We had a nice chat and I find her company enjoyable. Hopefully, she is welcomed into the company.

We buried Sneeze a few days later. He was surrounded by friends and I can't stand to look at his memorial. I feel partially responsible because I had promised that I would not slow them down, and here I am, alive when they should be. Cellica says I shouldn't blame myself but I am only getting in the way of these adventurers. These young souls who are far better able to handle these missions. I feel out of place, and yet at home. I have begun to offer advice to many here and have apparently become someone they confide in. I suppose for that, I can stay here longer. After this, I may or ma not have offered Marianne the option to see herself as a member of the von Gerwig family. Cellica wants so desperately to met her, and who am I do deny her? Marianne explained her past to me, which I found terribly tragic. The poor girl has been practically thrown out of any home she's had that I cannot help but open mine to her. Hopefully Cellica and I can provide some stability for her.

Some time later, a party with Marianne and Heiress Luanach returned and they looked brutalized. The only thing I could think to offer was some of Cellica's tea for calming the nerves. The two seemed to appreciate the gesture, and I delivered it to them in the tent of the Court of Seasons. I hope that whatever they faced out there to cause such damage, stays far away from our camp.

The day after that, I received an invitation I could not turn down. Amaris Luanach had come to me on the recommendation of Lambda. Apparently, a mail ship had made the run and those who had not heard from the outside world in four months finally had some news. Hers was not good, or so her thoughts are. Apparently, the writing and seals are from her court, but the cardstock is of the Duskvale. A rival court within the fey domain. Lambda and myself both seemed to surmise that something was wrong, and that her going alone might not be the greatest of ideas. Being able to understand what's going on at the table also helps. My Ghost Regiment stands ready to serve as guard on this mission, and I am honestly honored and flattered to be asked to join her. First, she needs to send a message to her fiancé to ensure that everyone is not simply dead. I pray that not to be the case, and that it is merely a hostile occupation for the time being.

Languages

Common, Sylvan

Powers and Abilities

He can summon a double from his Ghost Regiment when in combat, and can use his centuries of martial practice to keep the enemy where he wants them.

Attacks and Weapons 

He uses a very well-kept officer's saber and a Troverthian great sword