Clan Raven
Raekahvehl's Journal Entries
Journal Entry 1
Tal’Telaziel, 20 | Age 57
Tonight Ahmrah found a bottle of alcohol in the plains. He called an urgent meeting so that Raychehl, Vahn, Valuhree, Kohrihn, and I would meet him out away from the main camp near the Wohlkahv, the great briar. It was a little cool out away from my tent so I had to pull my cloak tighter around me. We are in the heart of winter, after all. Not that I have ever seen snow. It is always warm here in the Plains of Blood.
Kuhleeruh, the old Matron, used to say that the Plains of Blood always stayed pretty warm because the Rage of our people burned so bright that the snow could not come to us. She usually said it loudly near any of the black-leathered travelers of the Ohrihdehth. I think it’s because they think their Rage is better but have to slog through the snows at the base of the mountains of death in their homes. Kohrihn believed that the Plains of Blood stayed so warm because of the desert to our east, but I had to set him right. The desert gets cold. Colder than we get. No, I read a Mountain Elf book about it and I’m pretty sure we’re always warm here because we live in something called the Equatorial Belt, an area that falls across the belly of the world where we are always closest to the sun.
But I digress.
Ahmrah gathered us near the Wohlkahv, a briar with thorns so big that some were taller even than Kohrihn. We didn’t get too close; no one in the Tribe gets too close. They say a great Orange Dragon lives in the Wohlkahv. Some have said they hear it singing sadly in the night; singing towards the distant Orange Moon in the sky where Tirael is Bound.
Vahn said he was going to try and talk Ohrcheen into hunting the beast. He said Ohrcheen could slay a dragon no problem. Ohrcheen is a pretty dangerous man, even with only one arm, so I bet he could do it. I can’t help but feel a little weird around the old hunter. He’s never done anything to hurt me like some of the bigger boys in the camp and he’s only ever been nice to me, when he talks at all. But I once saw him throw his spear so hard it killed a charging Salamander in a single strike. He has so many tattoos, too. My momma says that the more tattoos a person has the stronger they are.
But I digress.
On my way out to the briar I met a Blood Elf man. He was bigger than most of the warriors in the camp and older too. He couldn’t have been more than 500 because then he would be showing shadow rather than skin, but he was old anyway. He sat alone away from the camp of the Rahshehk and his leather was old and battered without any colors to tell me what Tribe he was from, but the mark of thorns on his hand told me he was Kahlohtehk, the Tribe that watches the great graveyard far across the sea in the Sahrlahth Mountains, the Mountains of Death. I asked him what he was doing out in the Plains of Blood and he looked at me with something in his eyes that struck me straight to the heart and squeezed my throat real tight.
“I am taking one last night for me,” he said. “Tomorrow evening I start my journey to the Mountains of Death. I will take the paint of the watchers and become Death Watch. I will watch the bodies of our honored dead to make sure they are undisturbed in their final rest. But tonight I am only Kahz’rahd, an old man.”
He seemed so certain. I have not seen someone that certain in all my years of life. This man had seen hundreds of years of battle and not fallen but Death ruled him.
-Raekahvehl
This letter was released after Session 1 of the Stehreel Gaming Session Season 1:
Journal Entry 2
Tal’Borius, 3 | Age 68
Vahn fought Thehrm today.
Thehrm is the son of one of Blood Matron Naerihn’s trusted Sisters. He is a thoroughly rotten boy and easily ten to fifteen years my elder. He pushed me down in the mud and kicked me several times. I was furious and could feel my temper rising, but when I tried to get up and fight him I am embarrassed to admit that he just laughed and hit me again. I am not strong like Raychehl who could have taken him apart while drinking from a fancy glass drinking cup without spilling a drop or cracking the glass. He wouldn’t have even dared touch Valuhree like that. Raychehl would have taught him a lesson, but considering the way Valuhree’s been acting lately, she might have killed him for daring to attack her. But that’s why he chose me, isn’t it? I’m the weakest of us. No wonder Kohrihn finds kinship with me.
The mud was thick in the edges of the camp thanks to the rains, and I had it all over my new cat suit. It had been a gift from my dad, one of those rare times he had snuck into the tent while my mother was out, and I was… very angry to see it so marred. If I were older I bet the Blood Rage would have welled in my breast and taken hold of me, but I am not, so I just lay there and whimpered in the mud like a stupid dog. Whimpered while he promised to do things to me so ugly that I cannot even write them. I do not like to be afraid, and the way he looked at me made me feel fear. He knew he could terrorize me though. He knows he can get away with it because I won’t tell anyone.
I wouldn’t even dare tell those closest to me. I couldn’t tell Ahmrah. He would have gone to the Thorn or one of the other Berserkers, thinking they would do something to punish the son of a Sister, but he would be wrong. He seems to be the only one in the camp who doesn’t believe the Berserkers hop when the Sisters say jump. Kohrihn would be a lamb to the slaughter if he tried to defend me. I could not even tell Raychehl or Valuhree, no matter how much I trust them. How could I tell them that a man had made me feel so dirty and ugly with his words alone? Tell them, the strongest women I know in a camp full of strong women, that I was weak and small and vulnerable to threats? I didn’t even want Vahn to know, but he saw us there on his way out of the camp. He saw Thehrm kicking me in the mud and he got angry. Thehrm tried to say something threatening to Vahn about outcasts being in the main camp when he saw Vahn, but Vahn just attacked him. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t falter; just leapt at him. He had a look in his eyes like he was almost sorry for Thehrm. The look you might give a child who had done something foolish and was about to reap the consequences of that choice.
I’d like to say it was a nice long fight; like I read about in the Star Elf stories. It wasn’t, though. It was short and beautiful and bloody. Vahn beat him hard and he could barely respond to any of it. Vahn shouldn’t have done that, I can take care of myself. It might have taken me a while, but I would have made Thehrm pay for what he had done. When Thehrm blubbered, Vahn looked down at him with an almost calm finality in his eyes that said the fight had not been a challenge and he held the other boy’s life in his hands to take if he wanted. It would have frozen me to the spot if he had directed that look on me. He told the boy that no one was allowed to touch his friends and to scurry along or deal with much worse. I’m glad I didn’t tell him what else Thehrm had promised to do to me. I think he may have killed the boy then, and that would have robbed me of the right to face him again when I’m capable.
Besides, considering the way they treat Vahn for what his parents did; would even Ohrcheen have been able to protect him had he killed the son of an Ehtohrihm?
-Raekahvehl
This letter was released after Session 2 of the Stehreel Gaming Session Season 1:
Journal Entry 3
Tal’Stehreel, 23 | Age 74
Tonight, near the Vahkeht Scar, Ahmrah happened upon the body of a Minotaur. Once again the Berserker summoned the rest of us to the site of his find to experience it with him. This time, however, I was much more interested in what he had found; and of an age to appreciate it. There is, after all, only so much one can gain from the basic anatomy tome that father was able to sneak to me. If I had told mother that I wanted to know more about anatomy no doubt she would have torn open another Elf in front of me to give me “first-hand” knowledge. What she lacks in observation skills my mother is quite happy to make up for in blatant sociopathy.
It is no wonder that my father only sneaks by the tent when she is out to give me things. He understands me so much more than she does. Just last tenday he brought me a book another book on the sly; an arcane tome it seems that deals with Umbral magic. Without question I must keep it a secret from my mother, but he stressed the importance of that as well. He encourages this pursuit of mine, and that endears him to me in ways that compensate for his long absences.
The flies were thick on the scene of the Minotaur’s death and the stench was foul. The corpse smelled of fecal matter and ripe digestive components and blood. Mostly blood. It decorated the grass and the dirt and the stone in swaths and splatters that suggested unmitigated violence. It had been a brutal conflict that had laid this Minotaur low. I would like to say I could look upon it and see only the beast that it is known to be, but there was something intimate about that look at the creature, and in death’s embrace it looked almost… Elven.
Where its heart resided in the torso was wrong for an Elf, though. A proper Drukar heart resides near the center of the chest; just right and slightly down of where an Eldar’s heart is said to sit. This thing’s heart was low, protected by heavy plates of bone to the front and the spine behind to keep it safe. I had hoped to be able to study the organ, as the heart is said to be the gatekeeper between the world of life and that of death. If I could unravel its secrets, perhaps I could learn to control death. However, that desire was not to be realized.
The bone and other protection that was meant to keep the Minotaur’s heart inside and functioning was insufficient against the force that killed the beast. They had rent open the cavity with a brutal force and scooped out the organ as a trophy or a meal. Kohrihn, of course, could not handle the violence and death in the area. I wonder sometimes if he is sensitive to emotions that linger between the world of the living and that of the dead. If there is anything that stands between us and a complete understanding of one another it is this: I am most comfortable in places where he is not at all.
Vahn was able to tell a lot more from the corpse than I was able to; beyond its anatomical differences. He seemed able to reconstruct the battle in his mind just by looking at the marks left in its wake. He noted that the beast had died in combat with another of his kind; that it had been a duel of some kind. Ahmrah was able to notice that much of it as well thanks to his training as a warrior, but Vahn found other tracks that indicated that one or both parties of the conflict kept Trolls or something as pets. Something Ahmrah had not noticed at all, even having longer with the scene than Vahn. Vahn could even tell in which direction the victor went after the battle and he and Ahmrah decided to go check it out.
What a curious ability he has to deconstruct a scene of death so well and find key parts of it. I wonder if it is something all hunters in the Tribe are capable of or if it is a skill that only he and Ohrtahcheen... er, Ohrcheen share. It was only a few years ago that I discovered what a disrespect it was that the Tribe voiced to the old hunter by omitting the “tah” from his appellation. Ohrtahcheen is the title given to a respected elder of the Tribe; one who has faced hardship and war for hundreds of years without reaching his final rest. Ohrcheen, however, simply means “Old One” and is far less than the old man deserves. When I dared to include it when talking to my mother, however, she slapped me for it and said that to side with outcasts against the Tribe was a sure path to death.
Perhaps she truly has no idea that I am already on that path.
-Raekahvehl
This letter was released after Session 3 of the Stehreel Gaming Session Season 1:
Journal Entry 4
Tal’Esmus, 30 | Age 79
A traveler came upon our fire tonight; the one we held that only we Misfits were invited to out near the coast. He was an odd one for an Elf of the Blood; white hair and stories to share. He reminds me a little of Buhluhk in that he wears “good-natured” like it's armor. I am curious what lies beneath that good natured exterior, but nothing we said or did challenged his armor so I will have to remain curious. That was the only thing familiar about him, however.
I have grown quite accomplished at picking out the accents of other Blood Elves to determine what Tribe they come from, even before I see their tattoos, but not so with this one. His accent was non-existent, as if he had cut it from himself to hide his origins. He had tattoos from different Tribes too, as if he did not give any one Tribe allegiance, which is a wild sentiment. He also wore robes rather than leathers and that was especially a curiosity since he was on his way to the main encampment of the Rahshehk. Robes are a dangerous vanity within the heart of the most vicious Spell Breakers on Stehreel. To round off his oddness he was willing to throw verbal jabs at both the Sahrtahnohihk, the Ring of Thorns, and the Ehtohrihm, the Sisters of Delirium. What a brazen Elf to so readily poke at the two most powerful forces in any Tribe.
It is no wonder that Vahn took to him so readily. Vahn is a collector of weirdos, it seems. He likes the odd ones; the ones that do not quite fit in with what is expected of them. I wonder sometimes if the rest of us would have found one another had it not been for Vahn. He has certainly kept us together through some difficult times. That could just be because he’s so easy going, though. I know I have trusted him with secrets that I would not tell anyone else.
The traveler seemed to think himself some sort of herald or First Rider coming to the Tribe to warn of danger or impending doom. At least, that’s what I assumed from his choice of tales. He told us the story of Mahnahth, the Pehlehk First Rider who warned his Tribe of the coming horde near the start of the Demon Wars. Couldn’t he at least have chosen a story that was interesting? Something like Chahvahlah, the woman who brought the Death Mask to the Tribes so that our warriors could find peace in the end of their days?
If Kohrihn had not been so drunk, he likely would have begged more stories from the man e’er he could leave our fire. Kohrihn loves stories. It’s one of the reasons I learn so many of them, and sit through his even when they’re fantastic. He soaks them up like a sponge and will re-tell them wherever he goes. Perhaps one day he will be just as this wandering traveler is; wandering around with an easy smile and stories to tell.
Vahn thinks I should take him with me when I go. There, I committed it to paper… WHEN I go. I know it will happen eventually. I cannot stay here and that is becoming obvious to others as well. Vahn thinks I should take Kohrihn when I go. He thinks Kohrihn can keep me sane… or make me better… or some other such nonsense. Do they think I do not hear their sly jokes and chuckles? I am nearly a woman, I know what they mean to suggest. But just because Kohrihn is sweet and thoughtful, and I enjoy his stories, does not mean I am ready to hang my mark at his tent.
-Raekahvehl
This letter was released after Session 4 of the Stehreel Gaming Session Season 1:
Journal Entry 5
Tal’Fey, 13 | Age 80
Kohrihn is dead.
I can think of no way to deal with this pain but to write about it; though my hand shakes and tears fall uselessly from my traitorous eyes. I know she did it. That vile, foul, pile of stinking Troll shit that called herself his sister. I cannot even write her name because it stirs a violence in me I have not yet experienced; a hatred so enveloping that it would take away who I am and supplant it only with blood. I know she did it. She killed him. She probably did it with her own hands and didn’t feel a single shred of remorse as she watched him in the moment his life left him. We placed the Death Mask on a child five years younger than me. He still had twenty-five years left till adulthood and now he will never get there.
I would tear her heart out if I could.
Vahn may have tried to kill her if his grandfather had not been there. I have only ever seen him get violent a few times in my life, but this was not like that. This was the Blood Rage, the demon inside all of us. Vahn, who is always so laid back and calm… finding out about Kohrihn’s death shook him loose of his reason and gave him over to the red devil. He felt the need to rend and destroy that I could not touch because of my age. He felt it for all of us. I hesitate to think of what would have happened to him had Ohrtahcheen not been there to hold him back and knock him out. He would have bathed the Ehtohrihm’s tent rings in his own blood trying to reach her.
There was little that would have been able to hold Valuhree back if she had been here, but she left last year. She will not even know of Kohrihn’s death, wherever she is. Perhaps if she had still been here he would not have… no; I cannot feel that way or I will blame the wrong woman for his death.
Raychehl acted as if nothing had happened. She was distant and cold as the Ehtohrihm she hopes one day to be. She said a few words about how this was the way life was and we should just accept it. But I saw it in her eyes. I saw to her heart in those eyes, and she raged beyond that cold façade. In the depths of her I saw only hatred and a violent need to let it loose. If I had seen her when she found him, would I have seen that hatred naked on her face?
Ahmrah… well, I have never seen a man so touched by another’s death as Ahmrah was. He did not weep, he did not rage, and he did not utter a word. It was as if a spear had struck him a mortal blow. He simply stared; aghast, and hurt. He feels too much, I think, to be a proper Sahrtahnohihk warrior.
Kohrihn is dead.
Kohrihn Is Dead.
-Raekahvehl
This letter was released after Session 5 of the Stehreel Gaming Session Season 1:
Letter to Vahn
Vahn,
This letter is my goodbye. I have started and discarded it several times, so I apologize if this comes across as disjointed or confusing, but I need to write it and get on the road. Last year we spoke by the fire when that traveler told us the story of Mahnahth; you remember? I was thinking of leaving then but now… well, events have forced my hand. I’m sure you understand.
I cannot forgive her for Kohrihn’s death. We are taught to accept it and rejoice that a warrior has reached his rest after a lifetime of war. We are taught to respect death and to give death its place. In almost all other situations I might not have been so affected by a person’s death. But he was a child, Vahn. He did not deserve to reach his rest yet. He did not deserve to have his life ended. And so help me, if I remain I will try to rip her heart from her chest and feed it to wolves. And we both know how that will end. How it must end if the order of the Rahshehk is to be upheld. If Fraeuh did not kill me in the attempt, Naerihn would do it for her daughter’s sake.
So this is my letter of goodbye. I hope you will understand.
On the heels of Kohrihn’s death came another revelation; one that I have not spoken of to anyone. One that, ironically, also wrapped itself in Death’s cold embrace. I know now what I am and why I feel such an affinity for the dead. I know now what I must do and where I must go.
How long have you known that my father was dead? From what my mother tells me, he’s worn the Death Mask since I was barely 30. However, I have many things in my possession that he has given me over the past 50 years. The cat suit I wear almost unceasingly, those books I pour over endlessly that teach me of death and our tenuous hold on this life, and most recently my red boots: Rahshehk red. I think he must have known he was gone as well, and there was some purpose in his visits. His books, after all, have led me to where I am now. I felt at times that he understood me on a deep level; so much more than my mother. Do you understand how I must feel now, Vahn, to realize that I identify more keenly with my father who has long since gone to his final rest than I do with my mother who lives?
I do not yet know the full extent of why it is I have been seeing my father for the last fifty years that he’s been dead, nor how he came to give me things that are tangible and not ephemeral and transient as the spirit. That is one reason why I must go. I must learn more about the ways of a spirit’s Spark. I must learn more about the lands of the dead.
You spoke to me by the bonfire of taking Kohrihn with me when I went so that he could reach me deep within my… how did you put it? Ah yes, “Sardonic Funk”. That will never be, now, and I don’t know that there will ever be another who could hope to reach me there. I also cannot take you with me. Where I go I must go alone. I have been touched by the dead, and if I am to heed their call I must make this journey no matter its difficulty. You have likely guessed where I go so I will not put words to it. Where else can one such as I hope to learn more of these things? Do not tell the others. They would not understand and may reveal my hand before I am yet free of these thrice accursed Plains. They would not do it to cause me harm, but that harm would be caused regardless.
Perhaps some time in the future we will meet again in these Plains or elsewhere in the world. When that time comes I hope to call you friend.
Sincerely and with regards,
Raekahvehl
This letter was released after Session 6 of the Stehreel Gaming Session Season 1: