Veldorthan was a noble knight of the ancient Kingdom of Garathar, who lived in the 12th Century. One day, traveling in a dark wood, he came upon a beautiful youth beset by a dozen brigands who had routed his escort. Outraged at the injustice, and smitten by the youth’s beauty and bravery, Veldorthan challenged the brigands and defeated them all in fair combat. The youth thanked his champion and gave him a green and gray checkered kerchief, which he tied about his neck.

Veldorthan swore to see the young man to his destination, and the youth accepted his offer, though he warned the knight that great peril would pursue them. Veldorthan nonetheless stood by his oath, and as he escorted the young lord to his destination, they were attacked seven more times, each time by more fearsome foes. The final encounter was with eight demons. Each time, Veldorthan steadfastly repelled his opponents without thought of retreat and never complaining of his many bleeding wounds.

Eventually, they came to a hill overlooking the youth’s destination, a castle of unnatural fairness. Veldorthan collapsed and could go no further. As he lay, he saw the youth transformed into the Immortal Cael. He told him that the castle below was his, Atalvinar, but that it was not his destiny to enter it, although he must ever strive to do so. Veldorthan heard the god map out his future as his champion. Although he knew his inadequacy for the tasks he set him, he accepted the challenge.

Veldorthan lay long recovering from his wounds. When he awoke the castle and the god were gone. In their place were a brooding dark fortress and five mendicant mortal cantors who said they were sent to aid him. Their first task would be to take the dark castle below from its evil warlord. One of the mendicants blew a hom which was answered by the appearance of a small band of warriors who called themselves the Knights of Kemlor. Veldorthan led the knights to the gate of the castle and challenged the occupants. Veldorthan and his band won the day, although they were outnumbered five to one; then the Knights of Kemlor departed.

The dark fortress was converted into a temple and chapter house for worthy knights, and named Keminar. The tiny priesthood trained acolytes who were sent abroad to spread the word, and Veldorthan entertained and converted warriors to the cause of the Paladin of the Gods. For twenty years Keminar stood. Then the Knights of Kemlor returned and bade Veldorthan send everyone away. After he did this, a mighty army swept down upon Keminar, and although Veldorthan and the Knights fought bravely, the castle was destroyed and all were slain.

In 2740 Loris Kleftin, the third Earl of Urkonis, married Taralyn Odas, the beautiful daughter of a wealthy vassal knight. She was a gentle woman of great renown for her service and pious devotion to the Cult of Ariala, Mother of the World. Loris was a valiant knight and a wise and generous lord and the match was regarded as perfect.

Taralyn bore two sons, Madrin and Arvan, and a daughter Jayal. The boys grew into honorable knights of fine standing and Madrin, the eldest, won renown in tournaments. He traveled widely to broaden his knowledge of the world that he might better serve his father and his people. In 2769, he traveled to northwestern Ysgareth paid a visit at the court of Nahandis, the Delfari Emperor.

When Madrin returned home to Urkonis in 2771, he was a changed man. Where before he had been cheerful and ready with kind words, now he was moody and prone to fits of anger which gradually grew more and more frightening.

Madrin came to believe that his mother was betraying his elderly father, and went so far as to accuse her of adultery with the Baron of Belthin. Madrin became so obsessed with the notion that his father forbade him to speak Taralyn’s name in his presence.

One morning in Margas, Taralyn was found abed with her throat slit. A search of Madrin’s chamber uncovered a bloody dagger. Protesting innocence, Madrin cut down the guards sent to arrest him and fled, never to be seen again.

Loris, beset with grief, commissioned a tapestry depicting his gentle wife ministering to the orphans. Finished about a year later, the tapestry was hung in the great hall, where it hangs to this day. On the first anniversary of Taralyn’s murder, her pale face took on a red tinge, and this strange occurrence has repeated each year since, for two and a half centuries.

Madrin’s younger brother, Arvan, who succeeded his father, never believed in his brother’s guilt. He made several attempts to find the real murderer, but learned nothing except that his mother was murdered during the Night of Shadows, one of the most unholy nights of the year to several Naventhülian cults.

NOTE: It is not generally known, except to scholars and ecclesiastical authorities, that the effect occurs on the night of 14 Margas at about 24:30 and lasts for 25 hours, fading out at the same time on 15 Margas. Over the years the family has allowed scholars and religious experts to examine the tapestry, but they discourage casual sightseers; they have never allowed the artifact to be removed from the castle, despite repeated requests from the Church and various T’ara Kul institutions.

This tale is a parable of the Guild of Arcane Lore, most commonly told among the Torazan convocation of the T’ara Kul; but from northern Kildora to southern Tolus, everyone knows of the great folly of Baylora.

Born in 2902, in the northern mountains of Arushal,  Baylora Ariath was one of the greatest, and undoubtedly one of the most eccentric, Torazan mages of her time. Legend tells that Baylora had been an alchemist and herbalist in her youth prior to her being taken into the Guild of Arcane Lore by a wandering mage in the 2920’s. Baylora had a deep knowledge of Torazan lore and an almost uncanny knowledge of plants and animals. One of the youngest mages to achieve the rank of Vendari, doing so in her twenties, Baylora was considered a leading light of her profession, a mage of enormous talent and power.

Alas, Baylora had a terrible temper and a stubborn pride. After a long series of personal conflicts with other mages of her convocation, she stormed from her chancery, vowing never to return, and disappeared for five years. Rumor suggests that Baylora traveled widely during this period, perhaps even to the furthest reaches of eastern Ishkala. In any event, she returned to Arushal in 2942, a changed woman. Her hair had become wild and unkempt, her garments ragged and torn, and her eyes held the gleam of a visionary (or a fanatic). After a brief appearance in Lithkor, Baylora soon vanished again, this time into the the western vastness of the Pelon Delta.

Baylora settled deep in the trackless marshalnds of the Delta, setting up her sanctum in a small abandoned tower on an isolated island. There, she was free to conduct research and live free of the disputes that had so marred her career. Her servants were few and Baylora, with the aid of powerful enchantments, discouraged visitors from disturbing her peace.

While it is true that Baylora was a master in all aspects of Torazan lore, but she seemed to delight most in enchantments that dealt with plants, and particularly with accelerating their growth to monstrous sizes. Unrestrained by her peers, she begun to dabble in powerful arts far beyond her capacity to understand, much less control.

In 2948, one of Baylora’s servants was found drifting at sea off the Pelon Mouth in a small coracle; he was raving, almost incoherent, and in a deep state of shock. He was eventually nursed back to health, but if questioned about his mistress, his eyes would flash with fear, and he would ramble on about “horrific plants”, “putrid doom,” and “wretched death.” Obviously, something momentous, and dire, had happened to Baylora and all her household.

The fears of what Baylora might have unleashed are magnified due to the already unsavory reputation of the region – it is associated in the popular mind with the Necromancer, who’s haunted capital is now a sinking ruin at the heart of the Vindus Swamp, on the northwestern edge of the Delta. It may be that Baylora and those around her were simply killed, and nothing more… but many who knew her fear the horrors that might yet be growing in the isolated reaches of the Delta. Growing, and perhaps one day spreading beyond the marshes of Pelon…

One of the most enduring legends about the Telnori and the Age of Chaos is that of Elmorial, the “lost city of King Evenkal.” Telnori, Khundari, and Umantari legends all refer to its existence, although every tale is vague on details such as appearance and location. Telnori and Khundari legends are strangely coy on the subject of what became of the city; neither race seems eager to discuss the matter.

Although the ambiguity of the Elmorial myth casts doubt on whether it even existed, a few clues do exist. It is almost certain that it was built prior to the arrival of the Khundari in the north of Ysgareth. Dwarven tales speak of the “ancient halls of the Star King”, and since both Telitar and Stormhaven were built with Khundari aid, they are probably not the places being referred to as “ancient”.

It is generally believed that Elmorial was located in western Ysgareth, most likely on the shores of the Shattered Sea. This assumption is based on the fact that the Telnori influence has always been strong in the Archipelago. Attempts by human adventurers to find it have met with no success. The treasure maps that have occasionally turned up showing Elmorial’s location have been frauds. A minority opinion holds the city was in lost Kahir-Tamor, and now lies beneath the waves of the Hidden Sea in the northeast.

Some people believe that Elmorial was Gelivek. While this possibility cannot be entirely discounted it seems somewhat unlikely. Most of Gelivek was not built by the Telnori, and there is little to suggest that it was ever called “King Evenkal’s city”.

There are hints in the legends that Elmorial was destroyed by a natural disaster. This theory gained some support from the report of the survivors of a shipwreck in the Gulf of Yani in 2831. They claimed to have seen the ruins of a great city beneath the waters of off the Wild Coast. The fact that an expedition five years later found nothing has not dampened the rumor.

There are two other interesting theories about Elmorial. The first is that it existed (exists?) in another dimension and can be reached by one of the Vortices in Telishan. The second is that Elmorial is not a physical place at all, but rather a state of mind that the Telnori of the old blood could achieve. For obvious reasons, proof of these theories would be extremely difficult to obtain.

During the early years of the Migration Wars there arose a mighty Torokel warrior known as Coranid. He was a proud and courageous man, capable of fulfilling any of the requests given him by his king, the great Telnori ruler Kalonin. So feared was the sight of Coranid and his lancers that the invading Ishkali tribes feared him as a terrible avenging spirit – when he rode, “Novendo itself shook with fear, thousands did he slay, and thousands more drowned in the blood of the slain.”

From the fortress city of Erisban (?) to the gates of Harmazad (?) Coranid and his lancers chased the barbarian hordes, routing them in battle after battle. From atop his gray mare, Yonath, he commanded his forces, and the mere sight of his great sword, Korif, struck great fear into barbarian hearts. However, it became apparent to Coranid that, even after many victories, there was little he could do to stem the tide. As did many of his kin, he withdrew to haven in the Erodath Highlands.

One night, as Coranid slept, Xydona sent him a vision of doom. In the dream, Coranid visited a fog shrouded countryside, the forms of his men dim in the swirling mists, their horses snorting their fear. Saddles creaked and harnesses clinked lifelessly. A gust of wind parted the fog to reveal a circle of great stone giants and a pile of twisted corpses, atop which stood a hideous old crone. A battle horn sounded and Coranid was dragged from his mount.

Awakening, he decided to move with great haste, for not three leagues from where he camped was a great stone circle known as Serlyn (?). With but a word, his lancers were again on the move.

After crossing the Nuem the prophesy began to unfold. The warriors were surrounded by a fog “unlike any mist they had ever seen” and soon there were wishpers of demonic influence. But, dismounting, they pressed on. After leading their horses for seven hours through the unearthly fog, a gentle breeze carried to them the scent of carrion. The mists parted to reveal a mound of horribly mutilated corpses within a circle of brooding stone watchers.

Coranid called a warning to his forces, drew Korif and laid about to either side. Three times did his blade strike home and three times did assailants fall. “For five days (?) did the Battle of Mists rage and many a Torokel was felled by unknown, shadowy forms. Then, as quickly as it began, the fog lifted and the battle was over. Of their attackers there was no sign, but the toll which they had inflicted upon Coranid’s men was terrible; two score of his lancers lay upon a field devoid of the corpses of their enemies. Atop the hill, under the watchful stones, lay the remains of a party of Telnori archers, their twisted bodies almost unrecognizable, their faces contorted in terror.

Coranid commanded that a tomb be hewn from the stone at the feet of one of the watchers. And so, the Telnori were interred with all their treasures and with the slain of Coranid’s lancers as an eternal honor guard. Then, great wards and traps were left to protect the fallen.

As Coranid and his remaining men departed the halls of the dead they were greeted by an old barbarian crone who proclaimed “Hail Coranid, guardian of the Lost Kingdom! Slayer of Umantari blood at the command of your soulless master! Hear my words and know that thou art accurs’d, doomed to the fate of thy soulless lord, bound to undying death for all eternity!”

Upon delivering these words, she produced a tiny silver sphere and with a speed that belied her age, cast it towards Coranid. He and his steed immediately vanished in a swirling maelstrom of light and sound.

Coranid’s lieutenants descended upon the crone, capturing her and demanding the prompt return of their leader upon pain of death if she so failed. To this the crone replied:

“Doomed is he now, to ne’er live nor yet die. And every seven score and ten years shall he walk the world, and then shall terror be his name, for he shall be a creature of the purest evil.“

At that, Coranid’s men slew the witch and hastened to Lahir-alna to inform King Kalonin of the disaster. Now, every 150 years the spectre of Coranid rides the lands, a tormented soul, and death follows him on his skeletal steed, as he slays wantonly, searching in vain for eternal peace.

Varialde of Sebryne was an Ethmoniri tribeswoman born on the banks of the Hialto River, near to Maru-Tel c.2798, during an Ethmoniri winter moot. She left the Ethmoniri for civilized lands at an early age and trained at the Harpers’ Guild in Lairial. She was the most renowned harper of her day. Varialde wandered throughout the eastern lands of the Ukali and found employment with many of the noble clans of the region.

Varialde’s voice was an otherworldly instrument of amazing power, and it was said that she could toy with the feelings of her listeners at will. She carried a Telnori lute of magnificent tone and, great enchantment.

Varialde left the eastern Ukali in 2809 to seek new songs in other lands. She traveled with a few close companions into the lands of the Delfari Empire, arriving in Delfarin itself in 2810. Her skill quickly came to the attention of Jirela, the Delfari Empress, who summoned her to entertain her court. Jirela was so charmed by Varialde that she insisted the harper stay as an honored guest at the Imperial Palace. Varialde quickly became one of the most valued of the Imperial favorites.

This came to a sudden end when Jirela slipped into a coma in 2812. At first Varialde stayed to try and sooth the ailing monarch, and by the time she realized that the Regent, Koltorin the Astrologer, was intent on seizing power, it was too late. He forbade her to leave, and she became a virtual prisoner.

When Koltorin did indeed gain full power in 2816, on Jirela’s death, he began his rule by impaling many of his enemies and former rivals. Varialde, however, escaped this grisly fate when her captor demanded she compose and perform a paean to his “glorious ascension to power.”

Varialde defied him, singing instead, a satiric condemnation of the astrologer and all his followers that sparked rebellion and strife throughout the realm, taking months to quell. Her reward was to have her tongue torn out and her hands burned to uselessness. The would-be Necromancer then released her to show the measure of his vengeance. But though he ruled for 20 years, he was never able to stamp out her ballad, and it served always as a rallying cry for the oppressed and defiant.

Poor Varialde wandered, half-mad and aided by occasional travelers, back to the eastern Ukali. Eventually she made her way “home” to Maru-Tel. There, it is said, Varialde laid aside her lute, and entered the mystic lights, to seek a kinder world.

Located in the heart of the Chevan wilderness lies Zetarn, a sacred site to the fierce tribal people known as the Firilani. In the surrounding hills, there are extensive barrows, burial sites for the greatest of Firilani warriors and chieftains. The Delfari Empire conquered deep into the Chevan Gap early in the 28th Century and maintained a lonely fort at Zetarn to control the warlike Firilani. The fort, and its entire garrison, were massacred by the Firilani in 2765. The following tale suggests one reason for the massacre.

Nahandis the Scholar, the tenth Delfari Emperor, was a learned and intellectual ruler who encouraged scholarly pursuits throughout his reign. He also patronized archaeological expeditions to various ancient sites. In 2763, Gelan Terrik received a charter from Nahandis to excavate the Zetarn barrows in the hope of finding the resting place of Lahrkim the Wanderer.

Gelan was a somewhat unlovely character, even considering that he was a covert priest of Naventhül. Gelan believed that Lahrkim the Wanderer had possessed several enchanted artifacts of Immortal (or even Ancient) origin, and that these were likely buried with him. It is probable that Gelan intended to keep these artifacts for himself rather than turn them over to the Imperium, as required by his charter. In any event, he assembled an expedition of “archaeologists,” all of whom were Naventhülian acolytes, arriving at Zetarn in the fall of 2764.

Gelan had no idea which of the hundreds of barrows might hold Lahrkim’s remains, and several attempts to elicit that information from captive Firilanii failed when the prisoners died under torture. Frustrated, Gelan began his search at random, excavating barrow after barrow, amid growing Firilanii unrest. After months of effort, he had nothing to show for the work except a dozen wagon loads of normal Firilanii grave goods.

Gelan’s grave-robbing coincided with the rise of Voyerin, a warchief of the Aranak Firilani, whose goal was to drive out the hated Delfari invaders; the unrest caused by Gelan’s desecration of the tombs was the spark needed to unite the fractious tribes.

In the summer of 2765, the Firilani fell on the Delfari fort, and although Warchief Voyerin himself died in the assault, the garrison was massacred to a man. Gelan’s fate was far less pleasant; he and his assistants were taken alive and suffered grisly and painful tortures atop one of the many barrows they had desecrated, and were then buried, still alive, within one.

It is said that to this day Gelan’s shade haunts Zetarn, still seeking the barrow of Lahrkim the Wanderer. A variation of the tale has the Firilani tribesmen burying him alive in Lahrkim’s own tomb, but given the northern tribes’ reverence for the Wanderer, this seems very unlikely.

Following the collapse of the Second Mageocracy in 2836 the warlord Kelvur Yemo proclaimed himself King of Ghalid, and was able to maintain his power through brutal force and terror. Kelvur’s realm extended along the Nyrda from the Siora River to Palnio Keep. During the Interregnum, Kelvur and his minions indulged every degenerate whim at the expense of a cowering populace, earning the sobriquet “Ogre.” Although the Naventhülian rituals over which he presided grew ever more “creative” as his sanity crumbled, he retained his military brilliance.

In 2844, after surviving what appeared to be a crippling stroke, Kelvur claimed to be The Necromancer, the Befouler of the Dead, titles used by Korönians to describe Pürshok Vindu, the greatest of the Chained God’s servants, defeated over three centuries earlier. Two years later he began excavating the Hukaro barrows, a nearby ancient burial site, and was said to be fond of meditating among the grave goods of the ancient chieftains. He is alleged to have devoured even the bones in the barrows.

In 2846 Kelvur was killed in combat with Dorikon I of Arushal, as that monarch expanded his realm. He was entombed in the barrow now known as Kelvur’s Hill. Within a week the grave was found open, with no trace to be found of Kelvur or of the dozen of his lieutenants buried there. The new commander of Palnio died within the year, apparently of heart failure, and his successors for the next 13 years seemed cursed with violent and unnatural deaths. All attempts to re-seal Kelvur’s barrow were futile; on every occasion it would be found open within a few days. Tales sprang up that the barrow was accursed, and there were frequent sightings of Kelvur’s limping ghost.

The death of Eres Janor in 2920 was commonly attributed to Kelvur’s shade. Eres was a Caelite cantor who performed the ceremonies of exorcism over the ruins of the Naventhülian temple, the castle chapel, and Kelvur’s barrow. Thirteen days later, his dismembered body was discovered on the Ivlan bridge, and Kelvur’s grave was found open.

No attempt was made to close the barrow, which has remained open since 2920. Trees were planted on the hill in 3003 but they withered and died. The barrow now is covered by dense, thorny, brush. The curse on the castle’s lords seems to have faded, but locals still blame strange events and accidents on the Ghoul of Kelvur, whose shade is still occasionally sighted. Some say the spectre isn’t a ghost, but the undead form of Kelvur.