I have gathered you all for this talk because there is some information that I wish to share with you. I have done a lot of soul searching as of late that has led to certain decisions. But before I get to these revelations, I must reveal a bit of what led me to this point. When I left Seagate, I thought I had but a single goal in mind, but the Tridentās sinking and the things I have learned since travelling with you have provided a new perspective. I have seen things that would suggest that the heavens are in a state of flux, Chaos has seemed to take hold in across too much of this world, and there is much to set right. Being an Elf, I am accustomed to a degree of Chaos that is usually welcome in our communities, but as you shall hear, rampant Chaos is a fearsome thing indeed. I have dedicated myself to this fight, and that is what has brought me to your family.

The Halfling wizard and Ardotta have both foretold of a coming storm, I believe we should keep our eyes on the horizon, but not in the hopes of spotting black rain clouds, but perhaps Red Sails. The coming storm is likely the Chaos to be unleashed in a coming war. Neigh, not coming, but arrived! The Blackcloaks have already declared war and we each have already seen the first casualties Jotork pointedly turns to both Raven and Stephen. One of my goals was to find a service worthy of my talents, be that a person or holy place such as this isle. From what I have seen, I believe it is my calling to provide a measure of security to both you Raven, a druid of growing prowess and deep spiritual connections and you Stephen, a bard that has perhaps been selected by the powers that be, as a candidate to become the next Taosearch. Before you answer, let me fill you in on my origins and goals to help you decide if you wish to accept this responsibility. (You think this a strange phrase for him to be offering his service, but his story continues while you ponder this).

As Jotork begins his tale, he seems nervous and unsure of himself. You get the impression that he is uncomfortable opening up like this and has likely never done it before, perhaps adding to the importance of what he is to reveal. He paced around the fire as he continues his tale, occasionally pausing to stare into the fire, but rarely making eye contact and pointedly avoiding Jadenās gaze.

Jotork continued, I was born to a house of lower nobility in the Marquee of Bowcourt the third of four children. My father, while not particularly important in the hierarchy at Bowcourt, he was considered a loyal subject to her majesty. He was an artist whose work was not particularly to the taste of the court, although he particularly enjoyed his work and would not accept the suggestions that he change his style to match the current tastes, which favored Alusian influences. His still mirrored the work conducted during the Great Kingdom, and thus was dismissed as an archchanistic fossil. My mother on the other hand, kept the family in the public eye. She was a singer that received repeated requests to perform at court where her voice and beauty were in near constant demand. It was perhaps my motherās total immersion in court life and my fatherās total avoidance that led to the lack of warning to the upcoming troubles. There were undercurrents of discontent swirling around the fringe, of which my family was unaware. Thus we were unprepared when Her Highness implemented her interbreeding program.

Jotork pauses as if to gather some composure for what is to come. He seems strengthen by the reassuring nods from around the circle. He takes a quick first glance at Jaden, and then continues. The royal household guards arrived unannounced early one morning. Without waiting for the family to assemble before being presented, they pushed their way into the dwelling. While several guards held drawn weapons to keep my parents at bay, the remainder seized my eldest sister and marched her out of our sight. My father demanded to know why she had been arrested, but the Sergeant with a wry grin stated that she was not being arrested, but has the honor to have been selected to join the Queenās Court. This was news to him and this was not the customary method of being allowed to join the Queenās entourage and again demanded why she was being taken and what exactly was going on. The Sergeant merely shrugged, gathered his guards, and suggested that we take up any complaints with Her Highness.

We were forbidden any further contact with her, beyond occasional notes sneaked out to us by the Palace staff. After a year, these notes stopped, and we were left to wonder if something happened to my sister or her conspirators that supplied us with information. Two years later a messenger came to our door early one morning, delivered a missive and quickly departed. My father started to read and I saw the shock on my parents face as my mother took the letter from my fatherās now slack hand. I was to learn that the note informed us that we have not heard from my sister because she has been sent off the continent. She had been forced into a secret relationship as a concubine to an Ardanian Noble. She had gone unwillingly, and despararely tried to get a message to us. The author of this note went on to inform us that nothing can now be done about this situation because my sister is now dead. The reason for her death is unknown at this time.

With my mother reduced to tears, my father was buckling on his seldom used sword and storming out door find those responsible for his daughterās demise. He came back later with a battered look to him, he sternly told us to gather our things as we were going on a trip. That night we seemed to sneak through the city, my father occasionally stopping to talk out of ear short of shadowy figures. When we reached the gates, no guards were visible, but the doors were slightly ajar. As we filed through, I heard a whisper ĪThatās the last of themā and the doors slightly closed behind us, but seemed to slam with a resounding clash in my mind. I was unsure of what was transpiring, but I had a deep feeling that those gates had closed forever to me. I was now without a home.

Years later my father sat me down and explained the events of that night, and why we fled Bowcourt. My father stated that he charged down the street, intent on slaying anyone who got between him as his answers about his daughter. When suddenly he was broadsided by a hooded figure, who tackled him and their combined momentum drove them into a side street. My father struggled against his assailant and was now nearly out of his mind with rage. Several cuffs to his head sent his senses reeling, and a calm voice whispered in his ear ĪWe are not your enemyā. My father sensed magic flowing around him but he welcomed it as it seemed to calm the unwelcome rage in his heart. After a moment the voice continued ĪTo follow your path is to leave your house defenseless. Your death will not rectify this situation, and may only worsen it as your second daughter will come to her majority in another 10 years. Your daughter was taken to be married off to a human prince by the Queen decree. With my fatherās face pressed into ground by the weight on his back, he slowly started to sob at this news, and the weight slowly eased off him. The queen has instigated a policy that to interfere is punishable by death the voice added. My father stopped sobbing and was allowed to raise his head at his news, he looked around at his assailants as his world seemed to continue to crumble around him. What was going on, in his rage he was willing to throw his life away in a mad gamble to avenge his daughter and woe be any unfortunate who fell beneath his blade before he either received answers about his daughter or was more likely struck down, but for the Queen to pass a death sentence on one of her own subjects, it was simply unthinkable! The others on the street seemed to be keeping watch on the deserted stretch of road (it was still early in the morning). As my fatherās assailant got off his back, he crouched near his head and continued ĪYou must take care of your family, there is much to protect. File a protest demanding to see your daughter, calmly with the Queen, this will force her to lie to you and further strengthen the resistence. Do not let her suspect that you know of her plans, but steel yourself knowing that you will never see your daughter again. You are not the only one to suffer this outrage, and you may yet suffer again. We can get your family out tonight, but you will be marked an outlaw and forbidden to return.ā My father nodded and slowly got to his feet and rubbed the lump growing on his scalp. He remembers thinking these Elves have a strange way of showing their help. He tried asking who was his benefactors but they indicated he was better off not knowing, but should merely be content that there were those who disagreed with the Queenās decisions and were willing to risk their freedom and now their lives to help prevent more damage from Her progressively erratic rulings.

Jotork paused and turned to Jaden. I hope you now understand the awkwardness of my situation around you. Though I realize through no fault of your own, in my eyes you are the living representation of the brutal rape of a generation of maidens from Bowcourt. I see you and cannot but think of my sister being forcibly dragged from our home never to be heard of again. Though this act has set my life on its current course, I was able to put it in the back of mind. It provides me purpose, but no longer cripples me with grief. Even upon meeting you, I saw you as more fellow Guild member than as Half-Human. But that night upon boats, when you and Stephen showed me your pins it all came crashing back. I struggled to control my emotions as I related some of what I knew about those pins. The events since than have convinced me of the need to relate the rest of information I possess.

The butterfly is a royal Elven symbol, but not the current royal symbol. It is what you would consider the family crest of the Old Kingdom, though to Elves this is not quite the correct use of the term. The present Marquessa, our Queen, forbid the use of this symbol and instead devised the current Bowcourt insignia. My fatherās paintings always seemed to contain at least one butterfly either through stubborn loyalty or artistic license, but it is likely way his art never found favor in the court. Those who gave you these pins may those who help us flee from Bowcourt or perhaps a group with similar intent. In either case, they seek to rid Bowcourt of the current Queen, and reestablish the old ways of life. They likely seek some response in the Isles to the presence of your pins, unfortunately with little regard to your safety. If you were to have been seen wearing these in Alusia by elves loyal to the Queen, you would must likely not have been given much of a chance to explain yourself before steel was drawn. The Queen may also have agents in the Isles, so care must be taken in their display.

Although I am backed by no sinister agents, with a nod toward Stephen remembering his tale of pin acquisition, I do share their curiosity as to the state of Elven affairs in the Isles. But let me continue my tale. Once on the road, we traveled town to town trying to put as much distance between ourselves and Bowcourt. I saw my parent pack, and know that they carried some very elaborate and beautiful pieces of jewelry, but they never used to acquire local currency. Perhaps fear of thieves or family pride, but my mother sustained us by singing in taverns and inns for coin and lodging. And although she always left the crowds speechless in awe and admiration, it was obvious to us her heart was not in it. After several towns were behind us, I started to get the feeling that we were being followed. I addressed my father with this suspicion, but he dismissed it, since we would have heard the tales in the taverns if additional elves were on the road with us. Although my father was unconcerned I maintained my vigilance, but it proved to be quite unnecessary as our shadow soon revealed herself. One late afternoon as dusk was settling in we were pushing to reach the next town, but slowed by mother who seemed to have less energy every day. We paused when to the right of the road we saw the five shapes crouching in the undergrowth. They likely considered themselves hidden, but an Elfās eye is particularly sharp at dusk and they were spotted. My father gripped his sword hilt, but the look on his face showed that he was unsure of his ability to protect his wife and three children. It is a look that I have never truly forgiven him for letting me see, and I swore that I would never show fear in front of my family nor be unable to protect my family. I drew my shortsword, which in reality was a large dagger as I was still quite young and just learning to handle a blade, and stood beside my father. But the brigands never materialized, as the underbrush exploded with a flurry of curses and waving bushes. A melodic feminine voice was heard chanting a unfamiliar rhythmic tune and occasionally laughing amidst the shouts, grunts, punches, and bones snapping. When the struggling ceased, the chanting continued as a human female emerged from the underbrush. She was unarmed and dressed much as I am now, although wearing a sleeveless tunic instead of my vest. She was not tall for a human, and had long black hair tied back from her face. Her features seemed exotic from the other humans in the area, her skin darker, and eyes wider (although at this point I was having trouble discerning most other humans apart). What impressed me most was the way she approached, the muscles rippled on her like a catās giving play to the numerous tattoos that covered her exposed skin. Her face remained friendly as me approached although I was still apprehensive as I was quite sure that this Human woman had just slain at least five armed brigands with her bare hands. I sucked in my breath as I noticed gash in her side when her tunic rose slightly as she spread her hands wide to signify that she meant no harm. The woman had apparently taken a wound in her recent encounter although it did not seem to slow her movements. As she neared her chant became a song, and I realized that she was singing one of motherās songs, although with a strange human accent and many mispronunciations of the Elven words. I risked a quick glance at my father who appeared to have visibly relaxed, when suddenly my mother comes out of her stupor and joins in the sung. At first weakly, but gradually building in strength. The Human ceases to sing after it becomes apparent that my mother will continue on her own. She walks right up to my mother. When my father made no attempt to intercede, I took a step forward intending to block her path, but my father pulled me back. She took her eyes off my mother long enough to flash me an approving grin before riveting her eyes back upon my motherās face. Her smile was enough to disarm me and I knew she meant my mother no harm. All the while my mother had been staring off toward the horizon, as had been her habit of late, as she continued her song. But as the Human reached her, my motherās head slowly turned and her eyes seemed to focus on the stranger in front. Suddenly the human knelt in front of my mother as the song was coming to an end. The human addressed her, ĪSongweaver, I am Arnestra. I seek your guidance and offer you my protection. It is a Fianās duty to offer you a life of service, although it is your responsibility to accept this bond.ā My mother smiled as she placed her hand upon Arnestraās head and said ĪIt is with a light heart and clear mind that I accept your offer and will honor this bond between us. Arnestra seemed pleased with this response and mother added, ĪWelcome to my family.ā She grasped Arnestraās hand and pulled her to her feet with previously unseen strength, although it made Arnestra wince. This was the first that mother noticed the wound in Arnestraās side. With a new song on her lips, my mother placed her hands upon the wound. I did not recognize the words and realized that she was not singing in Elvish although some words sounded vaguely familiar, as if she was singing an older version of Elvish. When she pulled her hands away all evidence of the wound was gone except the drying blood on the tunic, her alabaster hands were free from the blood I clearly saw her place her hands upon. I thought back upon the title Arnestra addressed my mother, Songweaver. My mother often sang around the house, but I never saw any mysterious results, but I began to vaguely remember having a terrible fever once, and awoke in the middle of the night to find my mother leaning over me signing quietly. Until this moment, I had never made the connection that her songs may have possessed power. But I clearly saw the reverence for my mother in Arnestraās face, and began to wonder exactly how much power my mother truly possessed.

Jotork paused for a swig of water, he much more relaxed now, and there seemed to be the faint smile back to his continence that you are accustomed to seeing, he is clearly starting to relate happier times. Arnestra was indeed the first Fianna that I had ever met. She had seen my motherās performance several towns back. She sensed that something was wrong in my motherās performance. My mother had never performed for nonElves before, and she was putting to much of herself in her performances. She had not been sleeping, she was weak from travel and poor eating, and on top of that she was performing. Her Elven songs typically interwove with the magic that inherently swirled around congregation of elves collected at Bowcourt. But the few Elves we encountered in the taverns were not enough to counter the majority of nonmagical humans that comprised her audiences. Although one night a Halfling whistler joined her onstage, unable to sing the words she provided a beautiful melody that clearly strengthened mothers performance as she whistled. Arnestra noticed that many in the audience were awestruck and thought that my mother might be unaware of the power she was unleashing. Following us to successive performances, she noticed mother getting progressively weaker and suspected trouble. Father was too worried about pursuit to clearly notice, and we all were still in shock over the loss of our sister. We chalked of motherās withdrawal to shock and hoped she would eventually pull out of it. Arnestraās intervention on the road helped pull mother back. The loss of a daughter made her feel like a failure as a mother, and she had begun to abandon her maternal and matrimonial bonds drawing ever more distant, unwilling to participate in daily interactions. When Arnestra wisely presented herself to serve as a Fian in motherās service. The vow required brought mother back to the present by reminding her of her existing bonds. Mother seemed to fully recover with adequate rest.

Arnestra guided us to the forests of Arlynn in the shadow of Mount Braden. We avoided most towns, with Arnestra occasionally going in alone to gather supplies. We still had money left from motherās earlier performances and Arnestra was apparent contributing funds to se us through. And although my mother seemed better, we never stopped and had her perform again. As she became our guide, my parents trusted her in all things, clearly my mother was not mouthing a meaningless ritual when she welcomed her to the family. When we reached Arlynn without further mishap, Arnestra and father selected a plot in the forest in which to construct a home. Arnestra was given one of motherās jewels to take into town in order to purchase the supplies necessary. As my father contemplated constructing a home in the forest canopy, news of our arrival had spread. Many local gawkers came by to see the Elves only to be chased off by Arnestra, until we were visited by the elderly Druid, Fernel. He had heard the tales and instead of the typical spectator response, he had actually come to welcome us and help in the construction. With Fernel and motherās talents combined with Arnestra and fathers brawn our new home in the trees came together quite nicely. I provided the agility to get into tight or high areas when required, and took a measure of pride when I caught Arnestraās approving eye, although with a laugh she was always quick to say that she was merely admiring a slow crawl of a caterpillar upon a leaf or a snail upon a rock.

Father grew increasingly distant and moody, so I tended to avoid him with increasing regularity. He provided for us as his artwork was actually quite popular with locals and travelers alike, but the more they bought the more depressed he became. He was disgusted that his symbolism and allegory was misinterpreted as another pretty picture of a fawn. My mother learned to compensate her talents to our new surrounding, but was often busy with my two sisters, both of whom seemed to share in motherās gift. Song was nearly a constant companion in this stretch of the woods that became known as the Singing Oaks, as locals passing nearby often heard graceful, haunting tunes carried on the wind. This left Arnestra the subject of my attention, and I became her constant companion. Whenever I got in her way or was too much under foot, she would send a playful kick in my direction. After being at the receiving end of a few of these kicks I learned to deftly avoid her attempts to swat me. She said my constant hopping about her feet reminded her of the desert mouse in her homeland to the southeast, a mouse called a Jotork in her native tongue. She took to calling me that as my name is long on her tongue, and often she said my name in exasperation. She informed me that a Jotork was agile and a good jumper, had large ears and excellent hearing, was nocturnal with good night vision, and was extremely self-reliant. Much to my motherās chagrin I playfully became the Fian Jotork. To fight off boredom I would mimic Arnestra in her daily exercises. She sparred with me and taught me the finer points of sword, bow, and spear. I did not realize at the time but the slow stretching exercises she taught me were actually a form of weaponless combat. This became evident once on a cross-contry run. We often raced to distant points, and she taught me to pace myself to increase my stamina and eventually my speed. On this ocassion we were off to visit Fernal as we did every other week. As we approached Fernelās grove we ran straight through a cluster of Orcs. They had their backs to us, facing out toward the grove. I was in the lead, as Arnestra usually let me set the pace although ran on my heels if she thought me slacking. Well by the time I saw the Orcs it was almost too late to stop, and as I began to slow down, I felt Arnestra push me from behind so I picked up the pace and raced past at least twelve before an alarm went up, but too late for the last twelve to react before I reached the clearing in front of Fernalās groove. I heard Arnestra call out for me to go get Fernel as she began to deliver blows amidst the Orcs. I looked back and as I saw her move, I recognized the motions. She was performing our morning routines. Granted the routines were out of order and greatly speeded up but I saw myself sometime possessing the power to deliver those blows. I turned back to the grove and saw Fernel shuffling toward me saying ĪI was beginning to wonder when you might arrive. Thought I might have to take them on all by myself. I had seen him shape wood and grow tree limbs, but was worried he might get hurt when facing a sword-wielding Orc. I had to blink as I saw his shuffling gait become quicker and longer, hair seemed to sprout all over, and he doubled over as he ran. Before I was sure of what I was looking at, Fernel had become a bear and plowed into the rear of the Orc pack that had started to form around Arnestra. Arnestra and Fernel soon made short work of the Orcs and they emerged from the trail laughing, Fernel having reverted back to his human form.

I spent many days in the company of Fernel. He stressed in the me the meaning of balance between good and evil, a philosophy I soon took to my heart. Arnestra continued these discussions by stressing the nature of law and chaos. Although it conflicted with the carefree lifestyle my family was accustomed to, she represented to me the power that can be attained when one conducts oneself in a lawful manner. She taught me the ways and honor of the Fianna.

One day I asked about the ritualistic exchange that occurred between her and my mother. To me it seemed unusual that she asked my mother to accept the responsibility of agreeing to Fianna protection. Arnestra was the one accepting the responsibility of protecting her, what exactly was my motherās responsibility. She explained that with the honor of being chosen as worthy of a lifetime of protection, there came a lifetime of responsibility. The Fian will do anything necessary to protect her charge, but the protectoree must not abuse that trust sending the Fianna to an nonhonorable death, obvious suicide mission, or take oneās own life. Above all, a Fian is not to be dismissed from her charge, it is a lifelong commitment. As an aside, although our hosts have not spoken of it, and likely never will, the insult of their banishment was doubled by their dismissal from their originally sworn duties.

As I became older, it became obvious to my mother that I would not stay much longer around the homestead, but she had already become resigned to this fact and had actually encouraged my studies with Arnestra as I never proved that adapt at singing. As the day of my majority approached, my father left his studio to come speak with me. He rarely interacted with the family anymore and I knew something important was on his mind. He related the story of our familyās flight to me, a topic that had never been broached before since our arrival at our new home. He extracted a pledge from me that I would investigate the possibility of the family returning to the Isles to once again living amongst our kind and bring justice to those aggrieved by the Princessās schemes.

The night before I left, Arnestra brought out a set of needles and ink vials. She was much older than when I first met her, but still moved with the grace of a cat although the signs of age were in her face and eyes. She gave me my first tattoo, that of the Jotork on my arm. She suggested that I maintain using that name while about in the world, since my father was still considered an outlaw. In fact, I had not answered to my given name in over twenty years so this did not seem a problem. She wrapped up the tattoo set and handed it to me as a farewell present. She instructed me that the tattoo was more than just art, they helped maintain a focus for a Fianās power. She stated that her more unusual tattoos serve as reminders of rites of passage.

The next day, as I said farewell to my family, Arnestra handed me a letter in introduction and gave me directions to Seagate and the Adventureās Guild. She said it would be a good way to get off the continent and serve in honorable company until I found my place in the world.

Jotork seemed to be coming out of a near trance, as if he could almost still see the visions that he had been relating. My time at the academy was more like time served. I dared not get to close to anyone, especially elf, lest my identity become an issue. My only joy was on the exercise green where no questions were asked and I was truly able shed my memories and live in the present, although Arnestra voice seems to always be in the back of my mind analyzing attack routines of my opponents, while my mothers songs seem to find their way to be whispered on my lips. When I acquired passage on the Trident, it was finally a chance to get back to my quest and my pledge to my father. But that has now been shown to be a more complicated task and I am also honor bound to revenge my fellow travelers murdered on board the Trident. But I do not think these are mutually exclusive. I am determined to see both fulfilled! Upon hearing this, all listening are sure that he means what he says.

As Jotork winds down, many of the listeners seem to be stunned, all had been curious about his past, but as you learned, true to his nature, he does nothing half-hearted. Looking around the circle he continues, I thank you all for your indulgence, but I felt it necessary to put myself on equal footing with you all. Jotork then turned specifically to face Raven and Stephen. I know I have given you a lot to think about and any further questions I will try to answer, but there is one last indulgence that I seek. Whispering something that sounds Elven, he approaches and kneels between the two of you. Druid and Taoiseach apparent, I am Jotork. I seek your guidance and offer you my protection. It is a Fianās duty to offer you a life of service, although it is your responsibility to accept this bond.

The crackling of the fire is all that is heard as Jotork remains kneeling between Raven and Stephen. Even the nocturnal animals seem quiet, as if even Nature was curious as to what the upcoming response was to be.