To my right worshipful and well-beloved mother,\n\nI am grateful for your guidance and have taken your wise words to heart. But I fear my current circumstances do no allow me to act upon your counsel. For the moment, our Lord Commander has given his favor to Sir Rulav. A strong bond exists between the two as a result of their parts in securing the rise of Iznovgorod. Such a bond would make my petition for advancement fall on deaf ears.\n\nFortune, however, has smiled upon your son. I have been given command of a fortress vital to establishing our position here. It is my belief that such an appointment shows that my time may come soon. Rulav is a formidable opponent on the field so a direct challenge would be foolhardy. I will instead do as my right noble and valorous father always advised and bide my time. I will know when the iron is hot.\n\nI remain your devoted and loving son.\n\nSir Ulfar\n\n

A Promising Development

A Matter of Honor

I beseech you, Mother of Night, to keep me from harm and grant me victory on the field. I ask you to shatter the blades of my foes, split their shields, weaken their limbs, and blind their eyes. \n\nFor the sake of this request, Dark Lady, I offer you the blood of my enemies as your sacred libation. Be benevolent and propitious and shield me in your eternal shadow.

Protection Against Harm

A Dark Invocation

How my talents are wasted on such base, brute butcher work! Mine is the grace of subtle swordsmanship, not heavy-handed cleaving. Mine is the ecstasy of penmanship, not this rote boorish torture. Ah well. All to the greater glory.\n\nI am a warrior, it is true, but I fancy myself part of the ancient tradition of the troubadour knight. I therefore must scriven to keep my mind sharp during these bloody doldrums.\n\nIn a half hour, I must rend a knave’s flesh until he offers up the truth. But for now, I will try my hand at romantic verse.\n\nMY GARDEN\nBefore you, my passion was a root-bound garden choked with weed.\nBefore you, love was a cemetery devoid of seed.\nBut now your name bestows joy to the gloom.\nYour name, once uttered, brings my garden to bloom.\nFor you, O celestial daughter\nI water my garden with the wine of slaughter.\nRomance by the blade,\nMy enemies unmade.\nIn every cold ear, I whisper your name.\nAnd so you haunt the hearing canals of the dead.\nLike the sea in a shell in a sandy bed.\n\nI do believe this is my finest verse yet.\n\nSir Ozur

Sir Ulfar the Wall, Stonereach Keep Chapter - NWGuide Database of Lore

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