Lyra the Riverwraith
Descendant of major player in Ivoria. Now a local druid who keeps breaking into the Kragen Keep to inspect an old black stone spiral. She helped Hephaeyna create a neutralizing agent for the Death Seed. This woman is called the Riverwraith and has powers based around water. She is seen as odd and currently locked up in the Kragen Keep jail about to be sent to work at the Mound.
“The Ballad of the Banshee” This book is written in ancient Orran. It speaks of a haunting folk tale chronicling the eerie legend of an ancient bog witch who has dwelled in the swamp near Kragen’s Keep for centuries.
Here you can find Lyra the Riverwraith
There was an old sage that helped Hyphaeyna lock in on the energy signature needed to contain the Death Seed, one of both nature and science.
They may know more about the Seed and what it can truly do. Rudelf just knew it was dangerous and was the cause of the Undead Acres being formed many centuries ago.
Lyra has the looks of a woman, three decades old perhaps. She wears a scarlet burgundy dress and a cap of wide brim and a tilted folded point. Her hands are adorned with jewelry on each digit, connected by a small silver chain. This looks to be of Wyndan descent with pale skin and dark hair. Stitching of swamp flowers are sewn into the lattice at the edge of her dress. She carries no items or bags, they would have been taken when she was arrested.
“Ohhhhh ohhh ohhh, I just knew it. The wind answered my calls and brought an army to save me. The whispering woods said she would present champions of water aided by the little lady of science. Paragons of principle, heroes of haste. The tree did say you would be a little rough around the edges but even this, I was not expecting. I am ecstatic! Salutations, I am Lyra of the Stillwaters. Although folks have taken to calling me by the name of an old banshee who ate children in the night, they call me the Riverwraith.
Lyra in prison
“What do you know of it?
The poem about the death seed
Ah the Orran, fine people that they were. Them and their tales of terror.
The Seed is more than a weapon, many think of its power as something nefarious. I believe it has the power to do both good and bad, depending on the wielder of course. Some.. hmmm…(counts) 100 or so centuries past, thrice over the ceremony known as the Conveyance of the Green has occurred without all of the Cathedral Ents present. It is whispered that a Greendreamer of old broke its oath in its final days. The Whitherer of the Weald was not allowed to pass on its title and thus the cathedral seed sat dormant, festering. Becoming something dark. Its power was meant to cut back the forest for its own survival and health. Now the woods grow sick with black tar and scarred bark, bushes gossip of beasts of unchecked storming trampling the critter. This is because life was allowed to thrive unchecked, now it grows ill.
The Greendreamer thought that the forest was being culled by man as they began to war with swords and strife, not yet forming a kingdom but clans beginning to emerge in the mythic age of the Second Era. Because of this, the Whitherer was locked away, having its power to slay and decay seep outwards from the cage it was kept in. The Death Seed is that missing cathedral ents powers held within a dormant vessel. I believe it will be used to carve back the green that has spread through the swamps, jungles, forests and heaths. This would change life as we know it amongst our entire region.
I will not give more answers while in this prison. I seek freedom and wish to avoid the goblin work camps. I have also misplaced my pet turtle, he is of the snapping variety and goes by the name of Quicksilver. ”
Help her escape, she has heard of a way out on the other side of the prison. There were a hundred prisoners but they slowly disappeared. Often silent but on a rare new moon, you could hear them screaming as they were dragged, now it sits empty, waiting for its next meal.
“The power could be used to destroy the World Tree, yes, I believe that is true, but there was a group of druids in the Mooncrest that believed it could be so much more. They were known as the Pallid Wealdwalkers and they have not been seen for millennia but those of Dhara's kin, twisted by nature, do not live or die like you or I. They believe that the seed could be cleansed and planted and then it would grow and grow and grow until it reaches the sky, another tree to touch the gods.
A fourth tree could be something extraordinary although it is unlikely as mortals have failed the great gateways that we already had.
A new Cosmic Tree could allow a connection to the godly realms, something that has been blocked for many lifetimes by the tree of many names: The Sun Tree, the Ton-Kuauitl or best known as the World Tree. To think it was the only one disrespects nature and her power.
The Botanoron no longer connects to the heavens, the Tree Mother deemed it so. Its energy is spent ensuring the woods remain enriched instead of turning into a desert like the Caluan Jungle once did.
The Rokau Tree, now cinders in the Firefang valley barely holds to life, the Great Ashen Tree stands twisted and torched with its spindly white branches grasping into the smoky sky. No longer a bridge betwixt the Black Ocean and the mortal Galfin. Another gateway closed through the actions of lesser beings.
The druids, the Wealdwalkers believed that there is meant to be another great Tree in the Mooncrest. Whether they were right or falling to a fool's folly, it is not for this withered old woman to determine.“
She looks young, “ah right, I forget myself sometimes.”
“If someone used the seed they could kill all the plants, insects and woodland creatures on this side of the Great Plains. It could also be fruitful for any religion looking to gain power with their gods or any nefarious parties looking to connect to the evil gods of the Black Ocean if the vessel were planted and a new cosmic tree was born. The Death Seed, wherever it be, has the potential to cause great boon or great catastrophe. “
As you return to the Hedgespire, you have brought two people with you who aren’t member of the Shatterbrand. One is Sir Vitarion Valence, a knight from the Heathlands who aided us in escaping the Kragen Keep Jail as well as the woman we went in to find, Lyra the Riverwraith.
She is an odd wood’s witch that aided Hephaeyna in securing the death seed in the vault. Our artificer built the room but needed more information on the seed.
The Riverwraith is aloof, she seemed to have not been with you when you teleported but here she stands, rummaging through the documents of your teleportation circle.
I’m trying to find out all about you for when the stories are told to your children, I want to make sure I get it right.
I have been called many names throughout my life. A name cannot be given though, it must be claimed.
The Riverwraith, Lyra the Mischievous, Freya the Wildheart, the Bashful Banshee, Agatha the Dread, Opal the Wondrous. But all those names represent different parts of me, parts long forgotten, parts destroyed and parts misconstrued, given to me by people who misunderstood. I have tended to the swamp for my lifetime, nothing more, nothing less.
Lyra falls to her knees, her pupils grow large, almost encompassing the entire Iris. she looks up to the ceiling. Now twisted good and soothing evil work in opposition, trying to find the power that rests within this forest.
The Seed is powerful, which should be found by magic. The way we calmed it, the way we hid was with a neutralising gas I provided to your scion of science.
It was derived from one of the oldest living creatures within the Mooncrest, not a man or beast but plant. The death seed yearns to destroy, it was meant for that during its time as a wandering Cathedral Ent of ancient times. The Seed stays dormant when surrounded with the mushroom spores from the unceasing fungus known as the Pale Mucor. Fungi are one living, spreading organism, all connected. The Mucor growth has been moving its way through the Woods for millennia, never dying, never meant to die. So the Death Seed does not reach out when surrounded by this spore.
This spore grows in the underground, farther than the roots reach into the dep soil, below that is a network of earthen tunnels where dangers lie, creatures stir and this old Pale Mucor thrives.
If your magic cannot sense the seed, it is because something has it calm like you did within this very castle.
The Death Seed once attracted the beasts of this land to the Undead Acres, kept hidden with the same mushroom spores I gave to you at the lowest tower of the Erod Grimhold. Now that the Death Seed is missing, those beasts run free. You see, these creatures also follow the scent of the Pale Mucor, believing it to be where the artefact is. The problem is, the only spores nearby rest in the vault under this castle, and they will stop at nothing to find it.
The rumble gets louder
As you continue into the streets of Arboran, the debris is still being cleared from the destructive attack from the day before. Many of the townsfolk are helping each other patch up roofs, carry lumber and generally help out. The Shatterbrand would have helped in the morning anyway they could, except for probably Aveline. One new addition that wasn’t from the rampage is that there are dozens of holes, about 4 ft deep and a diameter no larger than a wine barrel. You see the strange woman who you regret reducing more and more half way done her next hole.
Lyra the Riverwraith “I am protecting the town from sonic resonances from the elusive Itchy Nosed Bat. They are said to whisper not niceties while flying overhead, leading to poor sleep, early greying of hair and scales as well as early onset depression. I have heard the people of our town suffer from paralysing nightmares and I sought to help. I believe we are on the brink of a mass hysteria event. Many people today are speaking of a vision of a great black boar with a thousand arrows in its back trampling them and their kin. I believe this dream could lead to sickness, the yips or worse, a breakout of manic dancing.”
That was a real event, “it couldn’t be, I would have heard about it.”
“As we discussed in our letters, our goals are aligned, I want the Mooncrest to thrive and you want to secure the Seed. If its power is not able to be located, I believe it must have been taken into the Undergrowth of the Mooncrest. Deep trenches and caves wrapped around roots of long lived trees, sprinkled with an air of fae magic and the error of gaulan forestry. These tunnels sprawling underneath with deep rooted magic have long held these woodlands up through soil and strength. A communication network of buzzing bees and meandering mushrooms. They say this system is the bedrock, the first layer of this densely packed forest that hasn't seen sunlight for ages. New grass and trees grow above it, us never being the wiser that a wilder world weaves underneath our walkways. The passages hide themselves, twisting and turning away from the sun and adjusting to keep itself secret. But do not fret my fellow witches, Lady Aggie knows the way.”
Who?
Oh, wait, Lady Lyra knows the way? Oh no, maybe I don’t? I can picture the spiral tunnels of the ancient growth, where luminous lanterns of moss and twig light the path to the lower layers. I have seen the carved faces of the whispering woods, hidden out of sight by the verdant reeves under the leaves. I have felt the gaze of the Pale Queen caress my cheek. I know I have been there but alas, I can’t recall how or when. This is peculiar. This is witchcraft, no.. wait I know how to do that, this is something new, or something very old. The only thing older than me, er, older than.. trees are the spirits that guard this region. Most believe that Kishar brought the nature spirits with her but she was really more of a shepherd, she guided and protected that which was already here. Do you know of a totem shaman? A person who is in tune with the ilk of the first forest creatures, a spirit walker of sorts.
Lives in a house made of the boar skull.
“The Ballad of the Banshee” This book is written in ancient Orran. It speaks of a haunting folk tale chronicling the eerie legend of an ancient bog witch who has dwelled in the swamp near Kragen’s Keep for centuries.
Here you can find Lyra the Riverwraith
There was an old sage that helped Hyphaeyna lock in on the energy signature needed to contain the Death Seed, one of both nature and science.
They may know more about the Seed and what it can truly do. Rudelf just knew it was dangerous and was the cause of the Undead Acres being formed many centuries ago.
Lyra has the looks of a woman, three decades old perhaps. She wears a scarlet burgundy dress and a cap of wide brim and a tilted folded point. Her hands are adorned with jewelry on each digit, connected by a small silver chain. This looks to be of Wyndan descent with pale skin and dark hair. Stitching of swamp flowers are sewn into the lattice at the edge of her dress. She carries no items or bags, they would have been taken when she was arrested.
“Ohhhhh ohhh ohhh, I just knew it. The wind answered my calls and brought an army to save me. The whispering woods said she would present champions of water aided by the little lady of science. Paragons of principle, heroes of haste. The tree did say you would be a little rough around the edges but even this, I was not expecting. I am ecstatic! Salutations, I am Lyra of the Stillwaters. Although folks have taken to calling me by the name of an old banshee who ate children in the night, they call me the Riverwraith.
Lyra in prison
“What do you know of it?
The poem about the death seed
Ah the Orran, fine people that they were. Them and their tales of terror.
The Seed is more than a weapon, many think of its power as something nefarious. I believe it has the power to do both good and bad, depending on the wielder of course. Some.. hmmm…(counts) 100 or so centuries past, thrice over the ceremony known as the Conveyance of the Green has occurred without all of the Cathedral Ents present. It is whispered that a Greendreamer of old broke its oath in its final days. The Whitherer of the Weald was not allowed to pass on its title and thus the cathedral seed sat dormant, festering. Becoming something dark. Its power was meant to cut back the forest for its own survival and health. Now the woods grow sick with black tar and scarred bark, bushes gossip of beasts of unchecked storming trampling the critter. This is because life was allowed to thrive unchecked, now it grows ill.
The Greendreamer thought that the forest was being culled by man as they began to war with swords and strife, not yet forming a kingdom but clans beginning to emerge in the mythic age of the Second Era. Because of this, the Whitherer was locked away, having its power to slay and decay seep outwards from the cage it was kept in. The Death Seed is that missing cathedral ents powers held within a dormant vessel. I believe it will be used to carve back the green that has spread through the swamps, jungles, forests and heaths. This would change life as we know it amongst our entire region.
I will not give more answers while in this prison. I seek freedom and wish to avoid the goblin work camps. I have also misplaced my pet turtle, he is of the snapping variety and goes by the name of Quicksilver. ”
Help her escape, she has heard of a way out on the other side of the prison. There were a hundred prisoners but they slowly disappeared. Often silent but on a rare new moon, you could hear them screaming as they were dragged, now it sits empty, waiting for its next meal.
“The power could be used to destroy the World Tree, yes, I believe that is true, but there was a group of druids in the Mooncrest that believed it could be so much more. They were known as the Pallid Wealdwalkers and they have not been seen for millennia but those of Dhara's kin, twisted by nature, do not live or die like you or I. They believe that the seed could be cleansed and planted and then it would grow and grow and grow until it reaches the sky, another tree to touch the gods.
A fourth tree could be something extraordinary although it is unlikely as mortals have failed the great gateways that we already had.
A new Cosmic Tree could allow a connection to the godly realms, something that has been blocked for many lifetimes by the tree of many names: The Sun Tree, the Ton-Kuauitl or best known as the World Tree. To think it was the only one disrespects nature and her power.
The Botanoron no longer connects to the heavens, the Tree Mother deemed it so. Its energy is spent ensuring the woods remain enriched instead of turning into a desert like the Caluan Jungle once did.
The Rokau Tree, now cinders in the Firefang valley barely holds to life, the Great Ashen Tree stands twisted and torched with its spindly white branches grasping into the smoky sky. No longer a bridge betwixt the Black Ocean and the mortal Galfin. Another gateway closed through the actions of lesser beings.
The druids, the Wealdwalkers believed that there is meant to be another great Tree in the Mooncrest. Whether they were right or falling to a fool's folly, it is not for this withered old woman to determine.“
She looks young, “ah right, I forget myself sometimes.”
“If someone used the seed they could kill all the plants, insects and woodland creatures on this side of the Great Plains. It could also be fruitful for any religion looking to gain power with their gods or any nefarious parties looking to connect to the evil gods of the Black Ocean if the vessel were planted and a new cosmic tree was born. The Death Seed, wherever it be, has the potential to cause great boon or great catastrophe. “
As you return to the Hedgespire, you have brought two people with you who aren’t member of the Shatterbrand. One is Sir Vitarion Valence, a knight from the Heathlands who aided us in escaping the Kragen Keep Jail as well as the woman we went in to find, Lyra the Riverwraith.
She is an odd wood’s witch that aided Hephaeyna in securing the death seed in the vault. Our artificer built the room but needed more information on the seed.
The Riverwraith is aloof, she seemed to have not been with you when you teleported but here she stands, rummaging through the documents of your teleportation circle.
I’m trying to find out all about you for when the stories are told to your children, I want to make sure I get it right.
I have been called many names throughout my life. A name cannot be given though, it must be claimed.
The Riverwraith, Lyra the Mischievous, Freya the Wildheart, the Bashful Banshee, Agatha the Dread, Opal the Wondrous. But all those names represent different parts of me, parts long forgotten, parts destroyed and parts misconstrued, given to me by people who misunderstood. I have tended to the swamp for my lifetime, nothing more, nothing less.
Lyra falls to her knees, her pupils grow large, almost encompassing the entire Iris. she looks up to the ceiling. Now twisted good and soothing evil work in opposition, trying to find the power that rests within this forest.
The Seed is powerful, which should be found by magic. The way we calmed it, the way we hid was with a neutralising gas I provided to your scion of science.
It was derived from one of the oldest living creatures within the Mooncrest, not a man or beast but plant. The death seed yearns to destroy, it was meant for that during its time as a wandering Cathedral Ent of ancient times. The Seed stays dormant when surrounded with the mushroom spores from the unceasing fungus known as the Pale Mucor. Fungi are one living, spreading organism, all connected. The Mucor growth has been moving its way through the Woods for millennia, never dying, never meant to die. So the Death Seed does not reach out when surrounded by this spore.
This spore grows in the underground, farther than the roots reach into the dep soil, below that is a network of earthen tunnels where dangers lie, creatures stir and this old Pale Mucor thrives.
If your magic cannot sense the seed, it is because something has it calm like you did within this very castle.
The Death Seed once attracted the beasts of this land to the Undead Acres, kept hidden with the same mushroom spores I gave to you at the lowest tower of the Erod Grimhold. Now that the Death Seed is missing, those beasts run free. You see, these creatures also follow the scent of the Pale Mucor, believing it to be where the artefact is. The problem is, the only spores nearby rest in the vault under this castle, and they will stop at nothing to find it.
The rumble gets louder
As you continue into the streets of Arboran, the debris is still being cleared from the destructive attack from the day before. Many of the townsfolk are helping each other patch up roofs, carry lumber and generally help out. The Shatterbrand would have helped in the morning anyway they could, except for probably Aveline. One new addition that wasn’t from the rampage is that there are dozens of holes, about 4 ft deep and a diameter no larger than a wine barrel. You see the strange woman who you regret reducing more and more half way done her next hole.
Lyra the Riverwraith “I am protecting the town from sonic resonances from the elusive Itchy Nosed Bat. They are said to whisper not niceties while flying overhead, leading to poor sleep, early greying of hair and scales as well as early onset depression. I have heard the people of our town suffer from paralysing nightmares and I sought to help. I believe we are on the brink of a mass hysteria event. Many people today are speaking of a vision of a great black boar with a thousand arrows in its back trampling them and their kin. I believe this dream could lead to sickness, the yips or worse, a breakout of manic dancing.”
That was a real event, “it couldn’t be, I would have heard about it.”
“As we discussed in our letters, our goals are aligned, I want the Mooncrest to thrive and you want to secure the Seed. If its power is not able to be located, I believe it must have been taken into the Undergrowth of the Mooncrest. Deep trenches and caves wrapped around roots of long lived trees, sprinkled with an air of fae magic and the error of gaulan forestry. These tunnels sprawling underneath with deep rooted magic have long held these woodlands up through soil and strength. A communication network of buzzing bees and meandering mushrooms. They say this system is the bedrock, the first layer of this densely packed forest that hasn't seen sunlight for ages. New grass and trees grow above it, us never being the wiser that a wilder world weaves underneath our walkways. The passages hide themselves, twisting and turning away from the sun and adjusting to keep itself secret. But do not fret my fellow witches, Lady Aggie knows the way.”
Who?
Oh, wait, Lady Lyra knows the way? Oh no, maybe I don’t? I can picture the spiral tunnels of the ancient growth, where luminous lanterns of moss and twig light the path to the lower layers. I have seen the carved faces of the whispering woods, hidden out of sight by the verdant reeves under the leaves. I have felt the gaze of the Pale Queen caress my cheek. I know I have been there but alas, I can’t recall how or when. This is peculiar. This is witchcraft, no.. wait I know how to do that, this is something new, or something very old. The only thing older than me, er, older than.. trees are the spirits that guard this region. Most believe that Kishar brought the nature spirits with her but she was really more of a shepherd, she guided and protected that which was already here. Do you know of a totem shaman? A person who is in tune with the ilk of the first forest creatures, a spirit walker of sorts.
Lives in a house made of the boar skull.