In the sun cycle of Bull,
known as May by the Kingdom calendar, in the Year of the Realm 596, I,
Seamus Olidahn, undertook a research effort for House Talios of Tyrangel.
The notable and respected scout and broker of honest thieves, The Sarge,
negotiated this contract. It is to repay a service he undertook in my name
that I have accepted this charge by House Talios to bring them information
on the Rangers of Tyrangel.
There are virtually no
records of the man first called "The Ranger" in the First City of
Wilderwood, as few if any records of that city at all exist apart from the
mysteries associated with its sudden and strange demise. The Second City
of Wilderwood gave rise to better contact with Kingdom contacts and
scribes and librarians most specifically, and it is not with little
interest that I note the eagerness of Therendryan record-keepers watching
the city with keen eye for the possible return of these mysterious "dark
enemies." No such luck had such scholarly vultures, but their doom-saying
has brought us what we know of the original rise of the Tyrangel’s and
Tarengir’s, and the cities they built around themselves.
The records,
unfortunately, vary in description from twelve men to twenty men and
women, to any numbers and descriptions between them being the makeup of
that worthy band called "Rangers" by their charges. What is certain is
that a small band took calmly to patrol of the woods surrounding
Wilderwood, to defend it from beasts of the night, and other such mundane
menaces. It is interesting to note that even in these early times, the
first reports of the howls and red eyes in the nighttime forests, the
markers of Tyrangel’s ever-present enemies, the Shadowraiths, is made. Is
it these tortured spirits that were the "dark enemies" so feared by the
survivors of the First City? There are also ample references made to
attacks by the Black Riders. Oh, that band has marauded through the Vale
longer than any one librarian has kept interest in such matters! Even to
this very day, Pollux and what remains of his White Hand Company of
mercenaries hides in the shadows and crevices of that verdant Vale,
scrounging for their meals for the living and the dead alike. What purpose
they keep in their strangely honorable yet brutal attacks is something few
have lived to tell, and even fewer who cared to remember such things.
Twelve or twenty, men or
women, they were good people who loved the land and the people who lived
there. No great oaths were recorded, nor elaborate ceremonies with blood
and blades, or any vows to be the start of great epics. Not in the early
days in any case. What happened to most of their ilk is a mystery even to
the most stalwart of researchers such as myself. Sadly, it is recorded
that most of such history, if even it exists, was the property of their
best scholar and adviser, the Sorcerer King Drax Darshiva himself - though
I use that word only out of habit, something you will understand, my
reader, as you continue.
The best story that could
be found in the old records in Therendry and in what papers have survived
the many sieges upon Darshiva’s Keep here in Tyrangel speak much upon one
of the Rangers in particular, an elven man called Evandolin Quintel.
Quintel was a healer and a warrior, though more of the latter, it would
seem. Perhaps it was that he was taught by the benefactor of the Rangers
and that is how they met. Regardless, it is known that Evandolin held Drax
Darshiva in the highest regard. It is known in such circles that will ask
such things that for all the sporadic and strange cruelty exhibited by the
Vale’s former ruler, the great Sorcerer King, that Drax Darshiva looked
fondly upon the Rangers of the Vale and counseled them, even crafted for
them a number of great treasures. Why, even the very blade wielded by the
Lord Protector of the Vale in 596, Count Roderick Daleron, is said to have
been created by Darshiva to benefit the Rangers’ fight. It seems unlikely
that the Rangers were mercenary in any way. Rather, there are slight
records to indicate things I have learned better by listening to servants’
gossip in the Keep in modern days. There is one in Tyrangel these very
days who bears the shield of the Rangers, crafted by the Sorcerer King to
benefit all who love Tyrangel and make war upon the enemies of the Vale.
The man who wields this is Tyr Tarengir, himself descended from a family
of great renown in these days.
Evandolin Quintel,
however, had come to develop a profound respect for Drax Darshiva. There
can be no mistake, whether his heart were true in these matters, or
perhaps it was only the ignorance of a young heart that mistakes respect
for Love, Evandolin most assuredly loved Darshiva most passionately. I
must clarify this so that there is no mistake here whatsoever. There was
nothing unusual or exotic about the man’s tastes, nor was Evandolin
Quintel a lady afflicted with cruel parents’ choice of names. Evandolin
Quintel was a man, and his Love, the same Drax Darshiva that is known to
have ruled the Vale for so many hundreds of years, was clearly described
in these records as "she." Drax Darshiva was a lady, and was Evandolin
Quintel’s lover. I will report, though it is not the subject of this
research, but it must be said for reasons of scholarly interest alone,
there is sadly little description of the Sorcerer King offered at all
aside from natural references indicating gender.
In the midst of these
days, the White Hand Company led by Pollux, known as the "Black Riders" to
those who lived peacefully within the Second City continued their attacks
against their enemy, the great Sorcerer King. One such attack may have
cost Drax her life. That much has very obviously been stricken from the
records. It is not unusual for a leader as powerful as Darshiva to order
such records purged, that no enemy could gain a clear estimate of how weak
her spirit had grown through deaths throughout the years. Though it would
be an estimate beyond my ability to judge to what extent the spirit of a
Sorcerer King may grow weak at all. There are remnants of minor records,
however, which indicate that a lucky and seemingly chance attack by the
Black Riders took Drax’s life. She obviously resurrected afterward, though
none may now know what struggles anyone took to restore that life. Perhaps
it was Evandolin himself who had to coax his Lady’s spirit to return to
life in resurrection? It is clear, however, that Quintel took not at all
kindly to the resurrection of his ladylove, even if she were his own
defender and that of all he knew, a being more powerful than 100
generations of his issue might ever hope to be.
Evandolin Quintel gathered
the Rangers together and those who would take arms or spells and rallied
them to stalk the Black Riders until they were trapped nearly at the
mountains in wintertime and then strike with all skill. Quintel, it seems,
was luckiest of all and found Pollux upon the field of battle, no other of
either side anywhere near them. How true this tale may be, then, is
unclear. The account that I had discovered was clearly written with the
tavernkeeper’s tongue, and even I cannot attest to exact truthfulness. I
believe it is mostly correct, however. Quintel and Pollux fought one
against the other, each weak from earlier fights and managing to heal
themselves as they went along. Something happened, however. Perhaps it is
that Pollux lost his blade if he wielded one, or some accident of magic
may have left the strange creature unable to cast his spells. Though
Quintel hated this enemy who had taken his Lady’s life, he was a man of
honor. He sheathed his own blade in some tales, or merely stopped his
spellcasting in others, but in all, he would not fight an unarmed
opponent. He allowed Pollux to recover himself and prepare to enjoin the
fight fairly once more.
Before even one more blow
cold be struck in this fateful battle, however, Pollux’s men circled
around behind Quintel and prevented his retreat. The tide of battle had
turned against the Rangers and their ineffective farmer guards, and the
White Hand won the day. Pollux was apparently quite the honorable opponent
himself and was so grateful to Quintel that he did not slay him outright,
he spared his life. This he did not do before he brought him to their camp
and told the story of the White Hand Company and their struggle against
Drax Darshiva’s tyranny and cruelty. Quintel listened with hardened ears,
knowing that honorable though his enemy might be, he was clearly mistaken.
The Drax he knew was kind and was above all, his Lady. The story could
never be believed.
Indeed, when Evandolin
Quintel returned to Wilderwood and told all of this to Lady Darshiva, she
denied such tales and spun those of her own. Not even my own lifetime
spent in research could ever determine how much of what she said were
lies, and how much was her own tale, I am certain. History repeats itself
they say. Even in the records of present days, I see stories printed in
your Tyrangel Times that tell this same tale over again, the tale of
Pollux’s White Hand versus Sir Roderick Daleron and the armies of
Evendarr. Pollux, now there is a tragic and sad spirit.
Darshiva bade Quintel to
meet with Pollux again that perhaps some agreement might be reached, some
compromise. Quintel met with Pollux, though it is unclear whether all
these things that are to follow took place all in one rush of epic
telling, throughout the course of days, or across several meetings. What
is painfully obvious from several recorded sources of the events that
followed is that another great battle followed between the Rangers, the
kind and struggling people of the Vale, Darshiva’s army and Pollux. In
that, the White Hand was terribly outnumbered. The Sorcerer King had
powers to command no one could understand in such days. Let me make this
clear to you: what is described can be nothing but creatures summoned from
other realms, creatures of pure elemental nature, and diseases created by
pure magic with effects that no healing could purify, and men constructed
of metal and magic who had skin stronger than swords. Adventurers that
walk in these days in the late sixth century of the Kingdom of Evendarr
realize little, it seems, that the Second Dimensional Wars passed just
less than ten years ago, and the change in the great Cycle of Ages has
made magic weird and undependable. To these men and women, however, cycles
of magic were as reliable as the mountains or sunset. These things were
ever unchanging and other realms, their residents and powers, were wholly
unheard of. No one had any idea how to combat the forces Darshiva
controlled. They never had a chance.
It takes little insight to
realize that Quintel had little concept of Drax’s true plans for the
outcome of the battle with the White Hand. Evandolin Quintel was always
described as an honorable man, and it is unlikely he knew of his Lady’s
plans to eradicate her enemies in such a way. It is made all the more
unlikely that Quintel knew by the fact that he was trapped with a small
force of men away from Drax’s army. Golems built by Drax herself tracked
the group and fought their allies where they stood, though none can say
whether this was by the Lady’s design or through accident or whether it
mattered to Drax herself. Most of those men died, though none can guess
how long they struggled before they did. Evandolin, along with those
others that survived the initial battle, had been infected with one of the
plagues his Lady chose as some of her most favorite weapons. Even if their
wounds could have found timely healing, they were unlikely to survive the
dawn.
I am afraid records on
Quintel’s fate are only too telling, though most of them carry dates upon
them many decades past this incident and the fall of the Second City, some
as recent as the middle part of this century. Some part of chance or
design from one leader in this great struggle brought Quintel and the
other survivors to Pollux’s healing tent. Having seen this disease at work
before, Pollux knew well its effects, as did Quintel, and Pollux spoke to
Evandolin as a trusted friend, as he had before to the other now deceased
members of the White Hand. He offered Evandolin life in a manner of
speaking and an opportunity for more than revenge, an opportunity to bring
Drax Darshiva to some justice for her crimes. Who knows what factors may
have motivated Evandolin Quintel to accept such an offer, but he most
clearly did.
What has become of the
other Rangers can be found, I suppose, but is not entirely clear in the
surface of my research, but Quintel’s station is too well known in these
records. He joined the White Hand Company, or the Black Riders as they
were called. He has stayed with them long enough that he remains with them
today and is part of what the people of the Third City call "The
Harbingers." His name is not well-remembered save to those who will look
into these histories as I have done. Now Evandolin Quintel is known only
by the number Zero in a strange and devastating force, a Spectre whose
eyes burn with black hatred for Drax Darshiva where once they may have
held love and respect. Little of the "hero’s" mind could have endured what
happened to the other Rangers and the Second City, I am certain. Only he
could say for sure, and I would never advise such counsel to be held.
The tales of Drax
Darshiva, the White Hand Company, and even these initially un-noteworthy
twelve or twenty who came be known as The Rangers and revered as heroes
are the fabric of the Vale’s history. If I can be certain of anything at
all, I am well-aware that all of this is far from over, however. These
allies and foes that are names in historical records can now, none of
them, hardly be called "men." "Creatures" is more to the point, especially
for the strange Pollux whom none can describe with certainty. What
motivates such beings to carry their goals through centuries of struggle
and sacrifice can only be known to a few.
Thus concludes this report
made on the Rangers of Tyrangel for House Talios. There are other
remaining issues concerning the White Hand Company and the great Sorcerer
King Drax Darshiva that I must advise may be of interest to my readers in
learning the histories of these things. There are ample resources for such
research, although as I have said, some records have been deliberately
eradicated and finding their duplicate may not an easy or inexpensive
task. I am happy to undertake further research for a modest fee I am
certain we can discuss.
By my hand on this 15th day of
September in the sun cycle of Unicorn, 596 YR,
Seamus Olidahn