Throne of the Undead

With trepidation I stepped into the ritual area of Al'Quafar, after a moment or two to gather my senses I strolled around to familiarise myself with the scene before me. A chamber beside the ritual circle housed a macabre throne flanked by giant skulls and chains it made an imposing sight and the scene for my first sketch of the gathering.

Wall of Chains

With my sketch of the throne complete I turned my attention to the walls of the chamber. Blood stains remained on the ancient stones and heavy chains and hooks stood in place of drapes.

A Chime of Bones.

In my past I worked as a merchant, many a shop had a simple chime formed of metal bells and pendants to alert the store keeper of new visitors. It appears those of Al'Quafar prefer a more organic approach.

A Sentinel of Stillness and Elegance.

It was something of a relief to find the adornments of Al'Quafar were not all composed of bone and torture. Close to the entrance of the ritual area was a bust of an unknown lady with a headdress, eternally still against the comings and goings of the area.

The Scarab.

My first sketch of the second full day of the gathering was in answer to a challenge by one of the young wolves who stopped to chat on the previous day. He pointed to the scarab beetle on the low walls of the ritual area and asked if I would attempt to sketch it. I agreed knowing full well it would test both composition and geometry. I also sketch purely in ink leaving no forgiveness for error. I was happy with the result, I hope my young challenger is too!

The Hook.

With the sketch of the scarab beetle complete I returned to the chambers by the ritual circle. Once again the configuration of chains and skulls caught my attention and I decided to commit another scene to my sketchbook.

The Inner Chamber.

The sun outside warmed the ground and walls of Al'Quafar but I found myself drawn further into the complex and the smaller inner room.

Golden battered piers strengthened the walls, sarcophagus and cats stood close by pictures of a sphinx, above a lantern emitted an eerie green light. The scene proved to be a difficult sketch but one I felt compelled to undertake.

An Oasis at the Guildhouse.

Clouds drifted across the Gathering fields as I walked the short distance from the ritual area to the guild houses. Tucked in a corner between the power guilds and the bards, alchemists and bank was an oasis bringing a wealth of foliage and subtle power to the area. As I sat and sketched a number of the masters stopped to chat on their way towards their houses as they prepared for the days tasks.

Bhoona and Thor.

My duties at the guilds kept me busy until later in the afternoon but eventually I made my way back to the Wolf camp. I met Captain Friday on the way back up towards the gate and he suggested I get ready with my sketchbook. On reaching camp I was in time to see the last stages of combat contest and the welcome presence of Thor enjoying a beer while watching the tournament. It was also good to see Bhoona taking part despite his advancing years and and the demise of his weapon skills almost to the pathetic state of my own, he was clearly enjoying a fight in between catching his breath behind his shield ;op

Naturally Thor made a point of having a chat and catch up with him once the challenges were over.

Farewell My King.

The arrival of the undead on the top field brought the wolves out in strong numbers to clash head on with the foe. One unliving called out King Radek to combat and the king strode forward with his spear to answer. During the melee the unliving struck the king with a weapon containing foul magics, this felled our king as his pattern was effected. Rune quickly organised by far the biggest incantor wedge I have ever seen to remove the unliving element from the kings pattern but sadly the damage had already gone too far and our king died .

Leadership is never easy and often carries a heavy cost. To see a whole nation so deeply effected both initially in grief and then in celebration of his life was a moving and inspiring thing and a tribute to the worth of our king.

Farewell my King, I will miss you.

(Thanks you James for all you have done to make the game a fun one for us over many years).

The Militia Guild.

During the weekend I had chance to speak with a few of the militia and was glad to make their acquaintance.

On the final morning of the Gathering I took shelter from the rain and spent time drawing the shield on the wall above their desk.

The Bards Desk.

My final sketch took me back to the Bards Guild. It has always been a pleasure to spend time in a guild preserving word and song as well as encouraging the skills of their members. This time I had chance to say hello to two of the Masters and the new Grand Master. A fine memory to take with me along with a sketch of the desk and red lanterns. 

The Alchemists Challenge.

I did not intend for this sketch to be the last for the fayre but events overtook me a little. I returned to the alchemists to see if I could find another scene to test my sketching. On the floor of the guild was a chest scattered with small potion bottles and test tubes, all holding coloured liquids. The scene was a test of eye, mind and perception. By the time I had finished my eyes were struggling to focus and I steadied them by looking to the distance and resting both mind and sight. The Alchemists do indeed make powerful concoctions when they can cause this effect before you even sample one.

The Storm Ravens Revisited.

The final morning of the fayre found me sitting back outside the Storm Ravens campaign tent, I have sketched it before but I thought it was time to revisit. Gansk the leader of the ravens has always made a point of making sure I have a beer to hand when we meet at events & the fayre was no different. I think I have a few jars to buy to repay the friendship of the Storm Ravens but for now I thought I would settle for a humble little sketch while they rest up.

A Shield for Olaf

During the battle on Sunday of the fayre I was saddened to hear Olaf of the Order of Fenris had fallen. Olaf was a fine paladin and a bold fighter, within the Braggihalla the Order sang in his honour, told of his deeds and drank in his name while I sat outside with my cup of strong cider and sketched a lone shield to pay respects in my own way.

Farewell Olaf, may the next to stand your place in the shield wall be as well thought of.

The Grove at Wyrmspire.

Stepping into a transport circle is not something I really enjoy but when we are told of a strange dust cloaking our ancestral grove I thought I should travel there with other faithful Wolves to see what could be done. Prayers and pure thoughts did a better job of clearing the dust than the attempts of sweeping and clearing. I settled by the dead tree of my ancestor to add my own strength to the task. My thanks to Romain and Drystan for taking the time to speak with me in those moments and your reassurances helped more than you could know.

Flying Nuts!

Not all games are of combat and deep thought. Some are a simple task of flinging a ball at target,  Mattaus from the Vipers told me of such a game when he spared a moment to talk while I was sketching earlier in the day and I wandered to the tesseract to find and draw it. He had managed a clean hit in his three throws when he played it the previous day, better than I could do I suspect!

The Rite Circle.

Several times over the weekend I took the opportunity to catch up with my fellow guild members and masters in the Mages Guild. Behind the main area of the guild was a small area for rites and ceremony. Carefully laid out candles and an orb sat on top of dressed table overlooking the rite circle. I promised myself a while to sketch it at the beginning of the second full day of the fayre before the area became busy with the writing of scrolls, the empowerment of items and the casting of spells.

The Empty Fireside.

The warmth of the afternoon was a a pleasure. After enjoying a fine brew and a good lunch I wandered back to the wolf faction. For a while all was quiet and I sat outside my little studio tent. As I relaxed I cast my eyes to the scene in front of me. The camp fire was empty for now and I put pen to paper to set the scene in my book. My thoughts held dear the bards who weave their songs and tales around the flames as darkness sets in. Sadly for us this would be the last night we would hear the sounds of our high bard Mariena, it would seem she was taken from us that night and the world is a poorer place for her absence.

Though she may be gone, her voice and songs still dwell in our minds, hearts and souls.

The Alchemists Table.

As mid morning rolled around and the weather seemed to set itself for a pleasant day I strolled up to the guild tent. The guilds had obviously spent time rearranging themselves and I found I was able to step into the alchemists guild with ease and without the feeling I was intruding. To the left side of the alchemists guild area was a table filled with potions, bottles, bells and a mortar and pestle amongst other things.

I settled into my chair to sketch an area of the table. It became a challenge of composition, forms and a balance of symmetry. It seemed the alchemists had found a game just for me to play at the fayre and I appreciated it.

A Door to the Children's Embassy.

To the side of the viewing gallery of the tesseract a small door stood beneath a sign for the Children’s Embassy. The door was barred shut and framed by trophy heads set side of the sign. 

The Tournament Path.

As the years sit begin to sit heavier upon me I cast my mind back to the competitions and tournaments of my youth. On the Saturday morning I stood alone in the tunnel leading to the tesseract I could imagine the walk and entrance the competitors would experience as they strode toward their tests of skill, will and wits later in the day. Such tests are now a little beyond me, but I can still picture and appreciate the arrival and anticipation those competing in the Great Fayre would be subject to.

I paused for a moment & wished them good luck and success.

Before the Lions Muster.

It seemed appropriate for the final sketch of the Spring Moot to be a scene within the Lions camp. After a chat with the gate guard I was allowed in and tried to find myself an out of the way spot to sketch. The tarp and bell tent by the command tent made a pleasing scene and I settled down to capture it in my sketch book. As I scribbled I noticed the camp becoming busier, I had only just finished the sketch when the Lions muster was called. I had no wish to intrude on our hosts matters of the day and so I packed up and left before I was able to find out which group owned the well presented camp.

The Gryphon’s Camp.

With its familiar blue flag hoisted high above the camp and the impressive central marquee, the Gryphons camp stood in the morning sunshine against a backdrop of tall trees.

Gateway to the Arcane.

A silver and black drape hangs by the entrance to the mages guild, I decided to capture its image in ink while the guild was quiet. I have seen the mages guild masters working and teaching many times and felt it was prudent to pick a sketching time when I wouldn't be in the way. An important lesson, try not to annoy a high mage, but do watch and learn. It is surprising what can be learned.

A Lady of Time and Corruption.

During my previous visit to the Corruptors Guild I had noticed a excellent but difficult subject for a drawing. On the final morning of the spring moot I couldn't resist returning to find the subject. Standing on the table was a figurine holding a clock face aloft. The quiet atmosphere within the guild tent allowed me time for concentration and contemplation. The geometric lines of the the column and clock proved difficult especially when combined with the anthropomorphic lines of the supporting lady. I was relieved to finish the sketch and pleased with the result, I hope the guilds folk of the Corruptors feel I have done justice to their guild house.

The Dragon Dancing in the Wind.

I returned to the ritual circle just before midday, atop of the wooden columns small dragons hung from bamboo. The wind from the open entrance to the ritual circle area gusted through setting them shifting and turning. One thing I have learned from my travels is that even the elements like to make a challenge out of a sketch, another moving target!

A First Visit to the Corruptors Guild.

As a healer and mage, I have had little dealings with the Corruptors Guild, After completing my first sketch of the morning I thought it was time I stepped into their guild area to see the surroundings in which they work their craft. My gaze was drawn to a table tucked at the back of the guild area. Sand timers, a gong and statue of a cat occupied one side of the table. We all have only so much time to achieve what we wish in natural life and the thought stayed with me as I sketched the scene before me.

Stones of the Guilds.

In the early morning of the second full day of the moot I found myself in the guild tents. One area always seemed quiet. Sitting on the floor were square stones carrying the marks of the guilds. Greenery and growth clung to the stones and seemed to root them to the floor.

Shelter for the Guardians of the Bear Gate.

By early afternoon my wanders had taken me back to my own faction camp. After relaxing for a while I cast my gaze over to our neighbours camp. I have sketched at the Bears camp before and noted the way they always ensure there is shelter for the gate guard. The arrangement had changed from previous years and I found a new subject to sketch. My sketching was interrupted and numerous occasions as Tree Lords lumbered into our camp to attack citizens of the Wolf nation. There is a time for the pen, but there is also a time for the axe and arcane.

Let the Rituals Begin.

As the morning grew old, visitors and citizens began to wander in to the ritual area and begin their preparations. Routines were rehearsed, lines were practiced and objectives clarified. It was not long before the first groups were stepping in and sealing the circle. Placing their lives in the hands of their skill and judgement. Those of us on the outside were treated to tales and stories as they weaved their magic.

The Hat of the Illusionist.

I have seen many ritual areas on my travels and they are often adorned with ornaments, charms and trinkets. The circle at Azurlon was simple and clear at floor level, it was only by looking up further aspects would be revealed. One unusual item was a red top hat hanging on a bamboo rod. The hat seemed out of place in the wooden surroundings and I was unsure it it should be there or if it had been left by a visitor. Perhaps one should not question to closely the adornments in a circle of illusion.

Chimes in the Breeze.

A gentle breeze sighed through the ritual area, high above the floor the bamboo wind chimes gave the breeze a song and I listened and relaxed to the irregular chimes as I sketched.

The Shrine at Azurlon.

Strange rumours greeted me as I arrived in Azurlon regarding the nature of the ritual circle and its perception by different people. Intrigued I stepped into the chambers before the circle to see for myself. I found the chambers to be surprisingly peaceful. A simple shrine was laid out to the left and was formed from bamboo edging, carefully raked sand and stones and made a perfect starting point for my sketching.