A passage to Faerie and the Pool of the Leshy

While our heroes did battle against the agents of the Hells and the Abyss, other adventures befell Lady Najáre, the Qadiran huntress of the far-off Garundi Woods. Passing unaware between the realm of the mortal and quick-lived to The First World, the world beyond of the fairies. Coming to the Fey analog of the Holy Grove of the dark side of the circle of life, the worship place of inevitable death. Where once the First men brought their dead loved ones to be eaten and rot, far from the caves where they hid from the Great Gods of the forest. In this place, The incredibly immense tree-spirit Entfather explained that she had slipped out of the Prime Material Plane and into The First World, the realm of fairies, sort of like Wonderland and never-never-land all mixed into one. In addition to the tree spirit she met the undying spirit of the ancient Cat-Lord of the Arthfell Forest. A prehistoric figure similar to The Urscumug of stone-age mythogy once feared and worshipped by ancient races in hopes of avoiding death at the hands of the Saber Toothed Tiger. He took the Huntress to a holy stonehenge where she experienced a vision so powerful that she swooned into unconsciousness.

So laid low, she left her body, assuming a radiant, silvery astral form and saw the “Woods Between Worlds” as it truly is. In this ancient holy place, she walked among the regal and majestic spirits of the great animals of the past, the mighty prehistoric Dire Boar of the Ice age, towering 7-feet at the shoulder, the Great Stag, the Dire Cave Bear, a creature of great veneration among early mankind and a sort of proto-god, and the awesome Smilodon-spirit Ithayiga, a spirit-form of the ancient Dire Tiger, huge and radiant with the power of the predator. These paragon spirits moved in and around and through her, her astral presence buffeted and suffused with their spiritual might, and mingling with theirs. She felt the ancient power of deep antiquity fill her and pulse throughout her presence, purifying and refining her very soul.

So uplifted, she then passed through the grotto of the Ancient Gods and came on high to the roots of a World-Tree where she gathers in her game-pouch the rich and black loamy soil of this place with its tiny crystals like twinkling stars or flashing, faceted gems in two great heaping handfuls. The Cat-lord of Ancient Days received her and found her worthy of being his successor. Words are spoken between the two and knowledge unknown to mortal minds passes down. Her mind swelled with the implications and inferred meanings of things suspected but never known, hinted at but now confirmed. So great is the knowledge of the nature of feline kind that again she was overwhelmed and fell faint to the forest floor into an oblivion of consciousness while her mind struggled to compartmentalize and comprehend what she had seen. Then came one final vision inside of a vision.

Ithayiga proclaims her an adoptive Daughter (like San, the Mononoke Hime was to Moro, the Wolf Goddess) and promises to watch over her. Ithayiga then breathed his essence into her and her vision and senses did reel and spin with his godlike power, as her vision cleared and the deafening roar of the cosmic celestial song died down in her ears, she found herself again in the Stonhenge where she had left her physical body. Waking refreshed and coursing with spiritual power, she returns to the Entfather and bears witness to a final miraculous vision wherein the Codex of the Firmament is explained. She is shown its secrets and gazes upon the wheel and dance of the stars, picking out the 11 planets among them and gleaning their secrets in a wash of revelation. Truly she had been in this place for hours, almost a day, or was it years. Thousands of years? Speaking with gods and great spirits and engaging in timeless rituals without words. Guided back to the edge of the Wood Between Worlds, bordering on the Druidic Grotto in the Arthfell Forest. The Sylvanshee Agathion who prophesied this event was there to ferry her over the border to the mortal realm. She does and as Najáre was made manifest again in the land of the living, felling strange and light. As if waking from a dream. The rest is reported in the previous chronicle.

Back in the aftermath of the divine intervention, the party of heroes witness the Aasimar Elven maiden fall to the depredations of a terrible swamp fever. Her fair and youthful face rendered ashen and wan by her struggle with the grip of the sickness. Unable to heal her with the divine light at his beck and call, Belton and the others determine to bear her back through the woods to the home of Barael the Merlyn of the Arthfell Forest. He receives them, warned of their coming by the many tiny eyes of the forest and hastens them in so that he may regard her and understand the nature of her illness. He soon proclaims that her sickness is the very wasting aura of that place of death made manifest, but, having been taken quickly from its environs after falling to it, her recovery is assured under his ministrations. He gives them sojourn for the evening and with the dawn, they are then back about their quest to recover the Panoply of Nàrven. 

The next mornign over their breakfast, Quick Jim asks the ancient elf for his wisdom. He tells the Druid of how they mean to make off for the blessed pool revealed on the birch-bark map and he asks about what it is that they may face there, guarding King Nàrven's treasure. Mention of the pool evokes old memories in the Elder and he recalls that this is the place where his sword lies hidden. Once a burden to him as he relied on it to answer all challenges and resolve all conflicts. But the sword is only a tool and a Master ascended must finally transcend the need for such tools, living in such harmony with nature that a heavy thing like a sword is only a burden to him. With the passage of centuries he had forgotten its resting place but the steady persistence of Quick Jim and Belton reminded him. And he reveals that the sword is with a guardian once trusted by the Ancient Kind Nàrven himself and so too, trusted by him. There is a song once sung that speaks of the sword's past and hints at the cause of its deeds. In great sadness he remembers the circumstances of why he set down his blade. But he gifts to Jim a song, first in ancient High Elven and then in its Common Tongue translation. It goes:

Black blades in their hands
Obey his every command
They search for that which was lost
Through realms of rime and of frost
Where no mortal may pass
Atop a dais of glass
Sits a scepter of light
A symbol of Titan's might

He comes from cities of darkness
To suffer harlots and fools
Loneliness is his raiment
Solitude is his jewel
He's seen the valleys of solace
Beheld the spires of sleep
He's fed the fires of the fallen
And heard their widows weep

Skies blackened with crows
Shadows on winter's snows
Within a temple of ice
Priestesses perform the rites
Witness the setting of suns
The darkest days have begun
Let the seers come forth
At morning's light he rode north

This chant hints at the Foe who was the cause of the forging of Barael's blade. A dark elf from the cities of darkness who emerged from the secret paths from Zirnakaynin in the Darklands realm of Sekimina that open atop the crown of the world amid the frozen plateaus. Who led his Morlocks and Derro of Nar-Voth with their onyx knives and axes south in search of a pre-StarFall relic that, when combined with the Scepter of Light would somehow cement his dark power in the Darklands. But that is a whole other tale from Barael's past that is done and over.

After a pause as the heroes finish their breakfast and set their gear aright for travel. Jim and Belton ask the old Elf about the next Druidic grove a final time, hoping to jog his memory. They are successful and he recalls that this place has long had a caretaker. And that a simple prayer is all that is required to alert the steward of the pool that they are on a sacred mission.

Trekking through the woods in search of the Grotto of Holy Water our heroes pass unmolested through the forest. They approach the site through the avenue of forgotten gods.


They come upon the ancient place in the late morning. It's tricking, spring fed waterfall guiding them with it's sound. They find that the place is an ancient sinkhole and spring-pool or considerable depth. It's water amazingly pure.


Belton approaches first with Quick Jim trailing behind on the twisting trail of ancient steps that lead into the hole. The Inquisitor wades into the pool and speaks aloud the ancient prayer called the Llyma Weddi'r Orsedd, a elwir Gweddi'r Gwyddoniaid

Dyw dy nerth, ag yn nerth Dioddef;
A dioddef dros y gwir, ag yn y gwir pop goleuni;
Ag yngoleuni pob Gwynfyd, ag yngwynfyd Cariad,
Ag ynghariad Dyw, ag yn nuw pop daioni.

which translates roughly as:

Grant, O Gods, Thy protection;
And in protection, strength;
And in strength, understanding;
And in understanding, knowledge;
And in knowledge, the knowledge of justice;
And in the knowledge of justice, the love of it;
And in that love, the love of all existences;
And in the love of all existences, the love of the Gods.

And in so doing, announces himself as a faithful of The Green Faith. He continues on to speak into the empty glade that he is on the business of Barael the ancient and that his mission is of great importance to the Forest.

To the amusement and wonder of the party, the tiny seneschal appears. An almost comical figure made of weeds and roots. waddling out from behind the trickling waterfall across the surface of the water to approach Belton and lightly bow.


The little creature eyes Quick Jim warily back on the path of stepping stones that descends into the pool and it's pudgy little arm waves out in mystic patterns as a Water Weird begins to form and rise from the glassy surface of the pool.


But Najáre and Sif are rich with the wisdom of the forest and the fey and they recognize that they must use the sacred passwords of the prayer that Barael taught them or battle this defender of the sacred place and they, along with the cautious Mr. Barleycorn, recite the passages in turn. Quelling the Leshy and returning the Weird to it's watery plane.

With all of the visitors having pledged their prayer in due and ancient form. the Leshy sinks and disappears into the pool. vanishing beneath it's surface through some strange majic that makes it utterly invisible within the waters. Soon, a small stone mortar and ancient Ivory Figurines float to the surface and the Leshy reappears to carry the ritual implements to the rocky shore of the pool and watches expectantly for the assembled mortals to act. As moments pass and it becomes clear that they have not idea what might be expected, the little homonculus speaks chiding them mockingly for being utterly baffled, but not telling them anything about what to do either. Belton stretches forth his magical senses, searching for magic and finds that the figurines do possess ancient enchantments as well as something which is hidden about the Leshy's diminutive person as well. 

Quick Jim, recalling the Song of Ebethron, the screed he learned from the Ancient Druid Barael, addresses the Leshy directly and inquires after the ancient sword. He lift his voice with song and the tones of the long forgotten tune ring throughout the grotto as they might have done in ancient days. His performance is true and his voice dances through the elven notes with grace and subtlety. The tiny creature is moved by the memory of the ancient horror that razed through these woods in bygone days. With sadness weighing visibly on his shoulders, he retreats into the pool and long moments are breathlessly waited through before he reappears with a blade made of dazzling elements not seen by mortal eyes in long ages. Barael's Blade! The little creature presents Jim with the sword and all admire it's masterwork craftsmanship. It is an amazing weapon, though it looks fragile delicate. Sif eyes the magic blade hungrily while Jim turns his attention to the Ritual Implements presented earlier.

Quick Jim, a clever man and quick to act, takes up the figure of the Boar and grasping it tightly, plunges his face into the water of the pool like a wizards Pensieve. Nothing happens at first but when he drinks in some of the water, he is blasted and transported spiritually, through a tunnel to the spirit realm, when he finds him soul sharing a cohabitation with a Wild Boar on a snuffling rush through the dense forest undergrowth. He quickly discovers that he can influence the boar's actions and begins nudging the wild beast back through the woods toward the Pool.



Back at the Holy Grotto, Najáre, Sif and Belton watch in surprise as Quick Jim collapsed and the Boar Icon of ancient Ivory slipped from his grasp and tumbled down into the dark depths of the pool out of all sight. Sif saves the ancient sword of Barael from a similar fate as Belton hauls the hobo out of the water and clears the water from his mouth. 

Our heroes learn from the diminutive warden of the grove that there is a bargain so struck by those that use the figurines in conjunction with the blessed water of the pool such that an ancient and hoary blessing of the Gods before Cities Arose is lain upon them and they soar out of their bodies in spirit to share a skin with a game-beast of the woods. They may wrest control of that animal and drive it back to the company of their fellows and there so doing, may lead them into an easy slaughter so that men may eat and make of their skin and bones, the tools of the crafts and trades that men undertake. BUT, the soul who takes the beast on this deadly walk, must stay within the animal and share in equal measure all of its pain and terror of dying as payment for the food and leather. In accordance with ancient pacts made by the shamans of the first men with the fierce and terrible Gods Beneath the Trees. Realizing that Mr. Barleycorn has so journeyed the group hear a crashing in the underbrush and see the face of a great and blustering Wild Boar peer down over the rim of the hole. Belton's wings flash in a dazzling flurry of blades and he rises up through the air to a height above the boar and he unleashes a volley of steel bolts against the dangerous beast, peppering it with deadly shafts until it messily expires squealing on the forest floor. Jim bursts back into wakefulness in his own skin with a coughing, sputtering start and seizes his chest, still feeling the agony of his death. Belton descends as Sif and Najáre help him to his feet.

After a small but heartfelt argument between Jim and Belton, Jim turns his attention once again to the Leshy attendant of the grotto and asks after the Vial of Pure Water. The treasure of Nàrven that they journeyed here to recover. Explaining their need and their quest on behalf of Barael. The tiny fairy-creature offers a Fey Bargain, if they will deal with the Unseelie Fey creature that has been skulking about the periphery of this holy place in the darkness of the nights of late, he will give then the object, if only to secret it away from this place before more of the Unseelie Court can come and overwhelm the place and take it into the clutches of darkness. The Leshy forms the pools water into a likeness of the intruder, a Dark Faun.