Not THAT Skaldia!!!!

Well, the best laid schemes of mice and me...

I think I may have read about 100 pages of Kushiel's Dart.  Like everyone else, I was looking forward to the spicy parts, which I never really got to and eventually gave up on.  I won't get side tracked explaining why I wasn't all that taken by the novel, but I will say that I remember being bored.

I was googling 'Skaldia' to see if my blog posts would come up in the search, and I found a whole bunch of stuff on Kushiel's this and Kushiel's that.  As it turns out, there is a country in this series called "Skaldia," and it is based on our world's Teutonic countries with slavery and a dose of D/s for good measure.  I really do not want anyone who may play in my vision of The Land of The Linnorm Kings to think that it is any way related to this series of books... (like the people I play RPG's with ever heard of this book until I just blogged about it)... But I really like the name Skaldia... so what do I do?  Do I keep the name Skaldia or do I come up with something else? 

I think I'll stick with Skaldia... it is my vision of how Skyrim would be fit into Golarion, and this post is my disclaimer that I took nothing from the  Kushiel's this and that series. Comments, gentle reader, are welcome.

If you would like to try out Kushiel's Dart for yourself, you can purchase a  copy through my affiliate link by clicking here, I will get a little commission. 

What are Jadwiga?

East of Skaldia is Irrisen, the land of eternal winter.  Irrisen is a feudal matriarchy ruled by the "Jadwiga" or Winter Witches.  The Jadwiga have a LOT of problems, and are probably the worst detailed race of all Golarion, yet I've seen many blogs expressing a fascination with them, and with Irrisen in general... and I agree... What's not to like about a land where it is always winter and the rulers are evil witches (and usually depicted as attractive).  In my book, quite a bit, but I will have to fix it if I intend to run a LotLK campaign, because the history and fate of Irrisen and Skaldia are locked together.

My first problem is the name "Jadwiga."  The name of the race is "Jadwiga" (pronounced "Yahd-wee-gah... I have no idea where to put the emphasis).  The gazetteer says that they take this name from the first queen of Irissen, Jadwiga.  This is just plain ignorant.  Its like the English calling themselves the Elizabeth, or the Elizabeths.  They must have a name for themselves, and there must be a name that others call them... again, the Germans do not call the English, the Elizabeth or Der Alfred or Der Henry.  I suggest that using the word "Jadwiga" to name a race should sound equally ludicrous as calling the English, the Elizabeths.  So that's problem one: determine a racial name for the white witches.

They are definitely NOT human.  Here is what the gazetteer says.

The Jadwiga are the direct descendants of the Witch Queen Baba Yaga, who travels to Golarion once a century to install a new daughter to the throne of Irrisen. Even though Baba Yaga hales from somewhere else in the Great Beyond, the Jadwiga appear, and seem to be fully human.

They (or at least the females) are the "daughters" of Baba Yaga.  Baba Yaga is everything that you would think a traditional witch to be, and I have never seen her depicted as anything other than a hook-nosed, toothless hag.  She is never in the company of men, nor does any legend state that she has or had a husband.  So how is she having all these attractive daughters?  As a witch, she does like to steal children, so its possible that her "daughters" are actually children that she has stolen form Golarion or other worlds.  However, they do not seem to age or die of natural causes, of course, their expertise in the arcane arts may explain this.

They are the ruling class of Irrisen, with the descendants of Elvanna, the current queen of the land, holding the highest political and social positions.  This will change in 4713 AR when Baba Yaga returns to remove Elvanna and the first generation of her children from Irrisen and replaces them with a new daughter and progeny.

Lets consider this; every 100 years, Baba Yaga (BY) comes to Irrisen, removes the current queen from her throne and instates another of her (BY's) daughters as queen.  She also takes the first generation of the current queen with her when this is all done.  This raises the following questions:

1) Are the daughters of BY all in Irrisen or does she bring a new daughter with her every 100 years?

2) How many children does the typical queen have and who is their father?  The gazetteer never mentions a husband or make concubines or anything of that nature.  Just how is the queen having babies, and how quickly does a new queen have them in order to replace all offices held by the previous queen's children?  If these winter witches are, indeed, human, there is no way they can enough children to be duchesses and countesses to replace the ones that were taken with the former queen in less than 25 or 30 years.

Of course, I understand, this is a game for gamers much younger than myself, and many biological details are left out or just taken for granted, but these gamers are old enough to know about the birds and the bees, and  some fundamental laws of nature need to be followed, or written off by magic.

But that's not the worst of it.  If  the land is locked in eternal winter (for 1,400 years), what are these Jadwiga and their Skaldian serfs eating?  The gazetteer addresses this with the "winter-yew."  The only indigenous trees that remain in Irrisen are fir trees.  Some animals can use these for food, but not most of the herd animals, and especially not the people living there.  The winter-yew, however, is a fir-like tree that was brought to Golarion by the Jadwiga from... somewhere else.  The winter=yew or "witch tree" has cones that contain edible seeds, I can only imagine that people have also learned to grind theses seeds and make cereals and breads and maybe they even ferment them to make alcohol,  but I can't believe that this is all these people have to eat.  The bark is also edible and grows back quite rapidly, but nowhere is it mentioned that the people of Irrisen farm the witch tree.

As you can see, there aren't a lot of 'reasons' for things to be as they are in Irrisen, and that's something I'll have to give long thought on.  These are a few of my current ideas to answer the questions:

1) The 'Jadwiga' are not human.
2) They do not reproduce like humans do.
3) They either have, or ARE terraforming their chosen part of Golarion.
4) They either do not need food, or subsist in ways totally alien to Golarion
5) They need the humans

I'd really love to hear what other people have to say, so please leave comments to this post, if you have any of the answers I seek, of if I'm completely wrong.

Religion of Skaldia

Much like the Romans worshipped the gods of the Greeks under different names, so do the Ulfen worship the same gods as the rest of Golarion, only under different names, and, for the most part, these gods are pretty much the same.

Chief among the Ulfen gods is Erastil or, as they call him, Veiomar, "The Lord of the Hunt" and "The All Father."  They place an emphasis on Veiomar's primal hunting aspect, but still revere him as the 'father' or leader of the clan of the gods.  The laws of loyalty to one's group be it family, community or clan are considered to be Veiomar's doctrines, as well as the law of hospitality, and those who violate these laws are subject to his wrath.  Some of those who worship Veiomar consider the wolf, an apex predator in Skaldia, to be sacred.  Their stories of Veiomar tell of a great wolf that travels with him as a brother, and hunts by his side.  Loremasters tell that these wolf-worshiping Ulfen were the first to have lasting relationships with outsiders and the mispronunciation of the word "wolven" is the origin of the cultural name "Ulfen."  (Those Ulfen who live a seafaring life call themselves "Skalds") All worshippers of Veiomar long to travel to his hunting grounds, Veioland, if they die in his favor, especially if they die defending their family, community or group.  Some small wolf cults believe that they will be hunters in Veioland and all others incarnated as deer or other prey.

Seggar "The Shield Brother" is the name the Skaldians use for Gorum.  Seggar is the god of war and combat in general.  He is the shield brother of Veiomar, but tales rarely tell of the two fighting side by side, except against some mythic linnorms.  If die valiantly, you travel across the sea to Valenheim the home of the gods.  There, if you are found worthy, you are allowed to cross the whalebone bridge and drink among ancient heroes in Sovngarde, the mead hall of the gods.  there you will remain as long as your name is spoken among your countrymen or sung in songs.

Desna is worshiped as Moedhernie "the Seafarer" or "Sky Mother"  Those Skalds who invoke the name of Seggar as they hack their enemies' limbs off, will have only one shrine on their linnorm-crested ships; the butterfly shrine of Moedhernie, the seafaring sky-mother who places the stars in the sea of the sky to guide them through the unpredictable chaos of the sea.  In their tales she is the chief Shield maiden of Veiomar, and commands the Valkyrie.

The dwarves in Skladia worship Torag, a god of their homeland.  They believe Torag is the creator and 'father' of all things.  Their clerics often argue with those of Veiomar as to who is the more powerful, true father or which is, in general, better than the other, but each respects the other, and open conflict has never broken out between the two.  Dwarves and some scholars argue that Torag was worshipped in Skaldia long before any of the other gods.  As evidence of this they refer to a statue of Torag found in some ruins that they believe are remnants of an Azlanti building. 

Some ancient texts call the Azlanti of Skaldia "Dwemer," but no one knows the origin of this word or even what it truly means.

*All the "Skaldian" deity names were created/made up by me using an English/Norse dictionary... or what sufficed for an English/Norse dictionary.  I'm also toying with the idea of using the gods and deadra of Skyrim/Tamriel in my campaign setting.  That would keep the flavor of Skyrim, and lends itself to an actual mythos/pantheon instead of just the haphazard deities in Pathfinder (I say haphazard, I've not yet read all there is to read on the religions of both Tamriel and Golarion.

The Saga of Skaldia

Since our last adventure, our party has started playing through the Pathfinder Adventure Path Rise of the Runelords.  I've opted not to write or journal about our adventures here, because its published material, and I didn't want to post a bunch of spoilers for folks who may not have played it.  Yes, there are many sites out there that do post these spoilers, yet another reason not to journal about our adventures there... it's been done.

So that leaves me with this blog, and yet another thing I may have started only to let fall to the wayside.  Well, as my group only meets once a month, we will be playing in Runelords for quite some time.  That leaves me plenty of time to work on our next adventure... adventure path (?)... if the gang wants me to game master...

I've recently been reading through the Pathfinder AP, Kingmaker, which presents the not so novel idea of the table top RPG sandbox.  What is a sandbox campaign, you ask?  Depending on who you ask, you may get several different answers, but in short, a sandbox campaign is one where the players decide which events will happen next.  Instead of following a structured plot designed by the game master, they decide what course of action will happen next.. where they will go etc... As you could imagine, this could entail a LOT of prep-work for the Game master, and you would be right.

I'm thinking that there are two ways to go about this.
1) flesh out every inch of the setting where the players will be adventuring so that you have something for any direction they may go...
2) Outline the area and have 3 to 5 "quests" on hand for them to select.  As they quest, the area will get fleshed out.
...and of course, always have a bunch of pre-rolled random encounters.

There are also so many other cool things in the Golarion settings that never come into play in the adventures, like the various knightly orders and guilds and the pathfinder society.  I thought it might be cool to also incorporate those in order to have players try to be a knight or a guilds man etc...

I really like Skyrim, and The Land of the Linnorm Kings offers the perfect setting for a Skyrim-esque sandbox adventure.  The only problem is the name of the region.  "The Land of the Linnorm Kings" must be the most ignorant name of any region in all Golarion.  Therefore, that's the firs change I'll make... The people who live in The Land of the Linnorm Kings call it Slakdia... and Skaldia belongs to the Ulfen!!!

T.P.K.

Sorry blog fans, the last episode of the Stone Giant Princess adventure was a TPK... for those of you who do not Role Play... that means Total Party Killer... or some variation thereof.  We have since started playing through Rise of the Runelords,  As that is a published Piazo adventure, I'll not post about it, because my posts would have spoilers.  So, I may just post some topics for discussion.  On this blog... let me know if there is anything you'd like to see...

A Princess of Stone: Chapter One

Opportunity Knocks

   “I love you too, father.”  Gaius had spoken those words over a year ago, and he has still to welcome his father home again.  Though he had easily passed all the tests, he rashly refused to leave the castle for the Crusader’s War College.  He was determined to be there when his father returned.  He trained daily.  Unlike his father, he was not an easy man to like, but he visited the barracks and hospital often looking for word of his father. Convalescing veterans bored of waiting for their wounds to heal would show him moves that one did not learn in war colleges.

   This morning, he stood before the door of Sir Kyras, one of the leaders of his fathers’ unit.  His trident in one hand, he fumbled the parchment of Kyras’ letter in his other.  The letter had been brief.  “Come to the command tower at dawn,” was all it said.

   He shoved the letter in his belt pouch and knocked on the door.

   “Come”, said Sargent Kyras.  Gaius opened the door and entered.  “Close the door and have a seat, Gaius.”

   As Gaius sat, he noticed the burns on Kyras neck that no doubt continued beneath his mail shirt.  The knight ignored the boy’s stare and proceeded, “I served often beside your father, you are certainly his son.  He was a good man….”

   “IS a good man,” Gaius interrupted, “…sir.”
   Kyras ignored the youth’s imprudence.  “Your father has been missing for over a year now, Gaius.  Scouts have returned with no trace of him or his patrol.  He volunteered for a dangerous mission.  I know this is difficult to accept, but….”
   “Until I see proof,” Gaius protested, “I refuse to accept that he is dead.  My father is a valiant and resourceful warrior.”
   “Yes, strong as an ox, smart, nimble and stubborn as hell, much like his son….very well.”  The veteran changed the subject as sharply as a phalanx changes direction in a left flank march.  “I called you in here because we have an assignment for you, should you choose to accept.”
   “Am I to be a squire, sir?”
   “No, you would essentially be an auxiliary to the watch.  With that designation, we have more leeway concerning induction.  I know these things are important to you.”
   “Will I be a knight,” Gaius asked, perplexed.
   “No.  An auxiliary to the watch is more of a…”
   A soldier appeared in the door and said sharply, “He is here, sir.”  His breath whistled through a nose that never healed properly after at least one break.
   Kyras stood, and Gaius saw the height and obvious strength of the old man.  The last two digits of his left hand were missing.  “Help yourself to some water if you like, Gaius.  I’ll be back shortly.”
   With that, Kyras walked out.
   Gaius perused the small command room.  It was stark.  A shelf with less than a dozen books was mounted along one wall.  Between The Code of the Ozem and Pole Arm Techniques was a strange tittle, Wonders of the Azlanti Dwarves.   He was finishing a cup of water when Kyras stepped into the room and told to come to the war room.  An elven half breed followed hard upon the knight’s heals.  Their glances met and the two sized each other up quickly.  As far as Gaius could tell, the half-elf was not much older than himself, but then, who could tell with these ageless sylvans.  This youthful looking archer could have drunk ale with Cayden Cailean for all he knew.  He was dressed typically for those woodland folk and carried a bow along with a quiver brimming with arrows.
   They turned the corner and saw Kyras approach a man dressed in scale armor similar to that which Gaius himself wore.  Gaius knew the man was Sebastian Slade, a low ranking cleric in the order of Serenrae.  He had often seen Sebastian tending to the wounded in the castle, but this was the first time he had been so close to the priest, and Slade was obviously no man at all.  The priest’s features reminded him of the statues of heroes he had seen when he visited Vigil with his father.  His skin was pale, akin to the marble of those same statues, but his eyes almost glowed with a golden light, and his hair shone like spun silver.  Sebastian Slade was one of the god-touched Aasimar.  Somewhere in his ancestral tombs, there lay a woman who had indiscretions with some mischievous outsider.  Though they are generally good beings, indeed, bordering on saintly, to Gaius, the Aasimar were still inhuman aberrations, and like the elven creole standing next to him, probably had no true concept of mortality... of humanity.  Standing next to Sebastian was a pure blood elf; his blue robes and tall ornate staff identified him as a wizard.  Gaius began to wonder what the trickster goddess Calistria was about to toss into his path.  
   “Sebastian” Kyras began.  “This is Cryx Darkmoon,” he said motioning to the half-elven archer, “…and Gaius. Cryx is from the Fangwood and eager to help against the One Eyes.  I believe you knew Gaius’s father well.”
   “Sebastian Slade, cleric of Sarenrae.” The Aasimar almost sang while bowing slightly toward Cryx and Gaius.  “…Greetings and felicitations upon you both, and to you, Sir Kyras.  May I acquaint you with Caladrel Drissendun, recently of Varisia. Like yourself, Cryx Darkmoon, he was born in Oillv’ameewla.”  He paused after using the elven name for Fangwood forest, allowing Cryx and Caladrel time to greet one another.  After a moment of silence, he addressed the knight, “Sir Kyras, is this the extent of our party?  Will you tell us of this urgent business for which you summoned us?”
   Gaius could tell that much of Sebastian’s formalities were forced.  The Aasimar was as uncomfortable and confused as he was.  Maybe Sebastian Slade was just as young in god-touched years as he was in those of a human.
   “All will be made clear shortly,” Kyras replied.  “I would ask you to stow your weapons on the rack, but the laws of the castle forbid any able bodied man or woman to be unarmed within its walls.  Ergo, I ask that you not overreact to what you are about to see.  Keep your weapons sheathed and your bow unready.”  He said the last words to the half-elf who seemed tense in these unfamiliar surroundings.
   Kyras lowered his eyes and he took a deep breath.  Gods help him, he knew he was a fool for what he was about to do.  All these young men have such promise and their entire lives ahead of them, especially Gaius.  To be used the same way his father had.  Kyras knew he would have to crawl many times in rags upon the temple steps as penance for this deed.  He released his breath, failing to stifle a tired sigh.  There was nothing else to be done.  They could not risk seasoned soldiers on such a fool’s errand.  The Watcher-lord himself had said it must be so, and the two Precentors Martial who had brought word refused him when he volunteered.  He was following orders.  Iomedae would understand.
   He stepped to the door of an antechamber.  “I want to introduce you to some diplomats who have recently arrived.”  He took another breath and opened the door.
   To everyone’s horror, beyond the door, standing around the polished oak war table showing a large map of Golarion and flanked by no less than a dozen knights, were six of the most vile creatures that could ever have dared to occupy such a great room….ORCS.
   Forgetting the warning, Cryx quickly drew his bow…arrow notched before anyone blinked.  Luckily, Kyras anticipated this, and stood between Cryx and the Orcs.
   “LOWER YOUR BOW…  NOW!!!!”  the hoary knight snapped.  Cryx obeyed.  How a man’s voice could have such power surprised him.
   Sebastian was the first to speak, “What is the meaning of this?”
   The large Orc in the middle broke into a hearty laugh, his huge gut bouncing; spit flying and desecrating the magnificent table as he did.  The Knights took an uneasy step between the Orcs and the outraged party.
   “Hahh nro' rhago hon haho zrahthok,” the orc bellowed, and his comrades joined in his amusement. 
   “Grn'bah hakt hagnok,” Kyras commanded, and the orcs slowly quieted.  Still unable, after so many years, to turn his back on these goblin-kin, He continued to face them as he addressed the band of adventurers he assembled.  “They bring us an offer which may turn the tide of this war in our favor.  This is Goruk,” He pointed out the large mirthful one.  “He is chieftain of the Haskodars orcs out of Blisterwell.  With him are his bodyguards Shakatrog, Brag, Hognell, Musk, and Guk. They bring news from Blisterwell, and an offer that…well,…we should probably consider.”  He focused his attention on the orc chieftain.  “Goruk, this is the group we will charge with the expedition… should they agree to volunteer, for all are free in Lastwall.  I know you don’t understand that.  The closest word you have is ‘hootur.’”  He seemed to take some pleasure in this verbal jab.  “You can fill them in on the details, then leave to allow us to discuss while awaiting their decision.”
   Goruk eyed everyone from across the room.  He shared surprise in his own regard that such a small rag-tag group of children would be charged of such an important mission.  Just like rrhakg, humans.  What was their saying?  They cut off their nose to spite their face.  Vermin.  It is only the current lack of a chief of chiefs that has the tribes at each other’s throats.  A fact he plans to personally change one day.  For now, he made a mental note to torture his next captive slower than usual to purge his soul of this corruption.
   The ‘expeditions’’ team stared at the scars on Goruk’s face and his half missing ear.  His wounds are the only field decorations an orcs receive, and they wear these ‘badges’ with honor. They noticed that his left arm was burned so severely that he could no longer straighten it all the way.  Goruk felt their stares and sneered.  He saw no such trophies on the humans and elves before him.  He turned away and addressed the group without looking at them anymore.  His common speech was broken, but what he did speak was impressive for an orc.
   “As the other human says, we are from Blisterwell, many nights march from here.  Another tribe… One Eyes…. Live there too.  Haskodars do not like the One Eyes.  One Eyes want to command Blisterwell…. Haskodars wants to command Blisterwell.  Both live in peace….for now.  Not long ago, One Eyes capture Princess Jtarn Phet.  Uthgan Phet, Father of Jtarn Phet, is king of Fangford clan of stone giants.  Now, Uthgan Phet’s armies fight with One Eyes or they say they kill princess.  One Eyes fight Broken Spine tribe now, but Goruk know when finished, Haskodars are next.  Haskodars find cave where princess is, but Haskodars cannot free her or One Eyes attack.  Haskodars cannot tell Uthgan Phet where daughter is….or One Eyes attack.  Haskodars go to other tribes, tell them to free princess.  Other tribes think Haskodars lie, and no help.  Goruk think, maybe humans help.  Shakatrog can lead humans to princess, then free her.  Uthgan Phet then attacks One Eyes….and One Eyes stop attacking humans to fight stone giant army.”
   Goruk pauses and looks to Shakatrog, as if to say more about him, but the expression of disgust on an orc face was not much unlike that of a man.   Gurok reconsidered, and turned back to Kyras, “Goruk go now.  We leave when sun goes down… with or without humans.”  He and the other orcs started for the door, as the nervous knights instinctively move to block his path.  The large Orc paused, poorly feigning conceit and respect, and the knights escorted them out of the room.

A Princess of Stone: Prologue

Fathers and Sons

   The elf, Dakk Darkmoon looked up at the stars glittering like gems against the glowing sapphire sky and thought of the goddess Desna, who, while the other gods created the world, went about placing these billions of sparkling jewels in the sky.  Maybe that is the wisest path, he thought, to fill your days with what you most love, caring little for the daily labors which rob us of our joy.  A pang of loss stung him as he realized he would never hold his wife beneath these stars again.  He did not savor this sting as his eyes drifted down to the priestess of Calistria and the veiled figure resting peacefully on the linden pyre.  Elves did not typically burn their dead, but Wenn, his wife was from Skaldia what he and others call “The Land of the Linnorm Kings,” and it was her wish to go to her ancestors in their fashion.

   “Tyanya lle a' i' giliath vanwa a' Sovngarde,” the priestess intoned.  Dakk appreciated that touch, though ‘Sovngarde’ did not roll well off the elven tongue.  Sovngarde… would he ever deserve to join his beloved in that hall of heroes… he who was out hunting when the orcs descended on his home.  How his son survived the attack, he did not know… did not care, merely thanked all the gods.  “…lye sina edainme Calistria,” the priestess continued.  Calistria, ‘The Savored Sting,’ the goddess of revenge, lust and trickery, favored of the elves in Golarion; Dakk’s least favorite now, for it  was She who touched his only son’s heart as he stormed out of their ransacked house… it was She who filled his boy’s heart with the lust for vengeance…  It was Calistria who spoke through his son Cryx’s lips when he heard, “…AND I WON’T REST TIL EVERY VILE ORC IS DEAD… DEAD!!”

   Dakk watched as the first flames began to caress his wife’s body.  Tears rolled over his fair cheeks as he realized that he would never see his son again… there were so many many orcs.

 

* * *

   “I am ready, father!” Gaius said, rushing into the courtyard, adjusting an ill-fitting helmet.  He had found it in an old trunk in his father’s wardrobe. The old scale hauberk fit him better; almost as if it were made for him and not his father several lustrums before his birth.  He had left the white cape behind in his haste, and the cold winter air bit through the steel scales.  The rising sun had just started to paint the sky the color of blood.

   “You are, Gaius,” Rufus Tulius replied; a proud smile crossed his face as he looked at his son. Wasn’t it just yesterday that he was a boy swinging a wooden sword; now look at him, grown into a man. “You are indeed.  You are quicker, smarter, and most certainly stronger than most other men I have known.”  He patted his son on the shoulder, “Including your old man.” Rufus smiled wider.  “But you are not of age.  In a year’s time…”

   “It doesn’t need to be official, father,” Gaius interrupted.  “I could be your squire!”

   “Now Gaius, you know the law.  What is the first delta?”

   “Discipline, Father.”

   “That’s right; Discipline.”

   A cohort of pike men turned into the street.  The rhythm of their marching joined that of the hammering, sawing and cadence that was the ever-present din in Castle Firrine’s air.  Rufus’ steed snorted and stomped the ground impatiently.  Rufus’ face disappeared as he slid on his gilded barbute helmet.  He cinched the chinstrap and swung into his saddle.  The sun, finally piercing the morning with its first rays shone of the golden plate of his father’s armor.  His pure white cape furled in the chilled breeze.  A brilliant sun and sword symbol of Iomadae emblazoned on it.  Gaius gazed at his father, unable to be disappointed seeing his father and he knew that he too, would one day be a knight of Ozem.

   “Stay here, Gaius,” His father said.  “In the spring you will go to the War College in Vigil, and when you are of age, you will join m…”  He paused.  “…the ranks of the valiant.  I am very proud of you, my son.”  Rufus Tulius caught and held his sons gaze before he continued.  “…and I love you.”  Gaius heard a tone in his father’s voice that, at seventeen, he was still too young to recognize.  The knight spurred his war horse and galloped out among the warriors of ever vigilant Castle Firrine.

   “I Love you too, father!”