The work contained on this page has been penned over time by the creator of the Forgotten Realms - Ed Greenwood, and kindly provided to us here at Candlekeep by The Hooded One on the Candlekeep Forum. The collection presented here is a digest version which has been collated by Scott Kujawa, presenting all Ed's responses and omitting other posters discussions which followed.

(Answers from Ed Greenwood)

Jan - Mar 2005

Ahem.

Hello, fellow scribes! Herewith, Ed slides cutlass between teeth and goes sailing with Jerryd!

Avast and heed well, ye dogs! Ed's gone beyond the call of duty once again, and thrown in a real treat: the Raetheless. He's imparted so much Realmslore, in fact, that I'll leave the individual island descriptions for other posts, to follow! Herewith, then, I give ye the words of Ed:

Jerry, those islands you asked about were detailed in original Realmslore, ready for sending to TSR in 1986 until the decision was made to concentrate on the Heartlands mainland, and provide only abbreviated coverage of offshore features. All I've done here is added map notes, changed some lore-text grammar and phrasing to be more specific and formal and to match the latest game terms, and added one updated-to-3e monster suggestion. Which gives us this:

In published Realmslore, these islands are most accurately mapped in the foldout maps found in the original (Old Gray Box) FR boxed set, specifically mapsheet 1031XXX0701.

Whereon it can be seen that there's a large offshore island situated so that its northern shore is due west of Candlekeep. Directly to the south of this island is an east-west line of three small islands, and northwest of this same large island are another three islands, curving (bulge to the west) in an arc to the northwest.

All seven of these islands are high and rocky (cracked and fissured granite), and covered with scrub temperate woodlands. With one exception, their heights are windswept rock whitecapped with guano, and they are all primarily inhabited by thousands of seabirds. There are freshwater springs on Thelve, Sklorn, Raerest, and Askalet, and rock-basin pools where abundant fresh water (mainly from winter snows and summer fogs) collects on all of the islands. Only Thelve and Raerest, the two largest islands, are large enough to have true (as opposed to 'saltwash') swamps. The origins of the names borne by these islands is largely lost to lore, but are thought to all be the given or family names of various mariners or persons who settled on them in the past. The nearness of these islands to the mainland, and the fact that all of them rise steeply out of the sea with no known shoals to endanger ships, have made them much visited down the centuries.

To be more specific, the "large offshore island" I'm referring to is called Thelve. In shape, Thelve is "rectangular with five little bumps or abbreviated capes, and a large rounded 'bullnose' headland to the north." The longest straightline distance one can travel on Thelve is fourteen miles, northeast to southwest, and in general Thelve is about ten miles 'tall' (north-south) and about eight miles across (east-west). Its northern headland is about ten miles offshore from Candlekeep, but at its southern end, it lies only about five miles away from the mainland (due to the rocky promontory that thrusts westwards out into the Sea of Swords south of Candlekeep).

West to east, the three small islands south of Thelve are Arthoum, Nairn's Tomb, and Askalet, respectively. Arthoum's easternmost cape lies almost four miles due south of the southwestern tip of Thelve. Nairn's Tomb is about a mile due east of Arthoum, and its northern shore is about two miles south of Thelve's southern shore. Four miles due east of the southern end of Nairn's Tomb is the western shore of Askalet, which lies about four-and-a-half miles southeast of Thelve and about two-and-a-half miles away from the mainland at the narrowest part of Racewind Passage (the strait between the islands and the shore; the only other named water area around the islands is Skoond's Run, the passage between Thelve and the trio of Arthoum, Nairn's Tomb, and Askalet).

The arc of islands running northwest from Thelve are (east to west this time): Sklorn, Unglur, and Raerest. Some sailors call them 'the Reach' or 'Crab Reach' (crab are abundant in the waters around them).

Sklorn is roughly triangular, with its easternmost cape ten miles west of the northwestern tip of Thelve. Two miles of open water separate its northwestern cape from the southeastern end of Unglur, and the shortest distance between Unglur's northwesternmost point and the southeastern promontory of Raerest is four-and-a-half miles. Raerest's northeasternmost point is about eighteen miles from the largely-uninhabited-by-humans cliffs of the mainland that lie southwest of Cloak Wood - - though it should be noted that there are the sparsely-inhabited ruins of a number of small fishing villages south of Cloak Wood, in what the elves call Raetheless ("RAYTH-lesss") and most humans call "Cloak Bay," nestled between the Wood and the pointing-at-Candlekeep cape called "Cape Raeth").

These villages have been largely abandoned because of monster raids out of the Cloak Wood and the murderous visits of pirates and smugglers over the years, though some hardy folk still cling to the most defensible huts among the ruins (digging for clams and going out in small boats with drag-nets for crab and the fish silverfin and the eel-like laethe), and that various costers and pirate conferacies repeatedly try to use the beaches and rotting wharves for shipping purposes.

There were six villages, each located at a good natural harbour. As one moves northwest up the cape and then southeast back along the north shore of the Bay, they were: Orthul's Notch, Calyaun ("CAL-yawn"), Eldelorr ("ELL-dell-ore"), Sumbur Rock, Borlyth ("BORE-lith"), and Ausabbason ("Aw-SAW-bass-on"). The Notch occupies the little indentation about a third of the way along the inside shore of the cape. Calyaun stands at the inside base of the cape (where the shore turns from running northwest to north-northeast). Eldelorr was located at the northwesternmost end of the Bay (where the Cloak Wood, as drawn on the map, almost touches the blue of the seawater). Large and mainly overgrown Sumbur Rock stands on the north shore of the bay just west of the small point known as the Fang. Monster-haunted Borlyth (which had a shipyard, and the most sheltered anchorage in "Borlyth Bay") is at the nothernmost end of the small bay east of the Fang, and Ausabbason (still linked to the Coast Way by a clear wagon-trail that curls southeast and then northeast around the end of Cloak Wood, to join the Way just south of midway between the Way of the Lion and Baldur's Gate) is a small, deserted cluster of cottages just south of the nameless plateau of rock that formed the eastern side of Borlyth Bay.

All of the Raetheless settlements were clusters of simple, one-storey thick-walled stone cottages with slate roofs, bolstered with tree-planted earth berms on their windward sides, and bolstered with timbers and ship-salvage. (Although the islands of the Reach are free of shoals, the shore between Ausabbason and Candlekeep has many jagged rocks a mile or less offshore, and sandbars constantly form and re-form between them and the rocky beaches of the mainland. Known as "the Jaws," these rocks have claimed many a vessel drive ashore in the sudden, fierce onshore storms that afflict this stretch of shoreline in fall and winter.)

So saith Ed.

As you can see, Jerryd, the Raetheless offer plenty of DM 'elbow room,' and so do the soon-to-follow island descriptions!

Wheeee!

love to all,
THO

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January 1, 2005: Thank you for the kind words, Alaundo. It gives me great pleasure to charge right ahead into 2005 with...

Hello again, scribes. Herewith, Ed begins to present the islands of the Reach, for Jerryd and us all:

Arthoum is about a mile north to south and three miles long, a tortured landscape of largely-bare rock tunneled with seacaves and 'blowholes' that geyser-like plumes of water burst up out of, during onshore storms. It has the least vegetation of the seven islands, a rocky beach on its southern shore suitable for keelhauling large ships, a few tiny caves sailors have sheltered in from time to time, and not much else of note except seabirds and various lurking predatory sea creatures. It has no sheltered anchorages or proper harbours.

Nairn's Tomb is named for an adventurer entombed in an old dwarf-delve that comes to the surface at the summit of this steep-sided, rocky, heavily-forested island (which is a mile wide, east-west, at its largest point, and a trifle over two miles in length, north-south). The tomb was plundered long ago, and is said to be haunted by phantoms and worse; seabirds avoid the entire island for some reason. There's a sheltered anchorage halfway along the eastern shore of the island, but no beaches or proper harbours.

The entire heart of Nairn's Tomb is honeycombed with dwarf-high tunnels and chambers, that descend into unknown depths (many tales say tunnels connect to the mainland, or descend right into the Underdark [and Elminster confirms that both those beliefs are true, noting that if one can get past a certain guardian dragon - - see my Wyrms of the North columns - - one can travel between Nairn's Tomb and Candlekeep itself, underground]), and many of these chambers have been used by various smugglers and pirates over the years to imprison captives, store treasure and goods, and as temporary dwellings. Monsters do prowl the lower 'ways,' and from time to time wander up to the surface, seeking prey.

Askalet is roughly diamond-kite-shaped (with the 'short triangle' to the northwest, base-mated to a 'long triangle' pointing southeast), with the mainland two-and-a-half (north end of Askalet) to three-and-a-half (south end of Askalet) miles away across the Racewind Passage, an aptly-named strait through which winds blow briskly north to south during most sunlit hours (calms are common at dawn, dusk, and throughout most nights, but of course tend to be accompanied by thick [read: cold, wet, and clinging] fogs). Askalet has a snug two-vessel harbour midway along its southern shore, a tiny wooded valley around a spring-fed freshwater pond at its heart (easily reachable from the harbour), and half a dozen springs welling up to cascade down its rocky sides into the sea in various falls that freeze spectacularly in winter. The eastern side of the island is three-and-a-half miles long, its northern and western shores are both about two miles long, and a longer (curving) southern shore completes the diamond.

Aside from the valley, all of Askalet is a labyrinth of rocky, wooded ridges (home to many deer and an owlbear or two), there are fish in the lake, diligent searchers can find about a dozen small fissure-caves (used by the owlbears and in the past by more than a few smugglers and pirates), and the island holds at least three ruins: an overgrown, roofless cottage or hall nestled in a dell on the westernmost heights of the island; an overgrown stone manor house in the valley (long-abandoned and said to hide pirate treasure, guarded by traps), and a ruined castle at the southern end of its easternmost cliffs (said to be both a former pirate-baron's hold [false] and a onetime wizard's tower [true, and Elminster believes the name of the isle is a corruption of the name of this long-ago mage, Askalath]). All of these ruins have been searched and temporarily used for shelter countless times, but that doesn't necessarily mean they hold nothing in the way of treasure. Askalath's tower has a cellar carved out of solid rock that sports a well-like shaft descending down seemingly forever (well into the Underdark, and far beyond the reach of any known rope). If Askalath ever drew water up out of the shaft, he used magic rather than buckets on ropes - - and [true] tales say there are short cellar complexes opening off the inside walls of the shaft, "well down" its descent.

Thelve is home to no less than three castles: one on its eastern shore, atop the cliff facing Candlekeep, one at the western end of its southern shore, frowning straight across the waters at Nairn's Tomb, and one atop a rocky inland pinnacle, about two miles due southeast of the northwesternmost point of the island. All three of these castles are large, soaringly tall, impressive stone strongholds, built atop stony heights and possessing extensive stone cellars (those belonging to the eastern one extend into tunnels running several miles, to come out on the surface of the island in a valley at its center). All of these castles are home to liches and a variety of prowling monsters commanded or coerced by the liches. These liches (in life one human male, two human females) were the wizards who in life had the castles built for them. When alive, these wizards were once friends, and although relations between them became strained over the years (particularly as they prepared for lichdom), they never actively fought each other or sought to dominate the island they shared. (Elminster says the three are thought by many mages to now be under the sway of Larloch.) Their names are forgotten - - or rather, tales now offer so many wildly different names for the three that the true and proper names have been lost among the spurious inventions. "Thelve" is thought to be the remnant of a gnome or dwarven name, from before the coming of the three mages.

The island was once home to a tribe of gnomes, who were enslaved and finally exterminated by the three powerful human wizards through cruel overwork, as they were forced to build and endlessly expand the castles.

Though there's no evidence that a collective term for these three liches existed when they were alive, bards have since dubbed them "the Twilight Three." They are mighty in arcane spell rosters and collected magic items, and are said to be more cunning than insane, largely keeping hidden from intruders and letting their traps, spells (at least one of them is said to be a master of wards and barrier magics), and guardian monsters slay visitors. On the rare occasions when they are seen, they've reportedly worn crowns, filigreed 'show armor' and other finery, and to have swept along their passages in disdainful silence.

Their magics have proven too puissant for anyone to yet destroy them - - and their presence is obviously the reason the nameless ruins of three large gnome villages, in the interior of the island, remain abandoned and overgrown. Many sailors' tales warn that the liches "send forth" prowling undead and other beasts to attack anyone who tries to stay the night on Thelve.

Thelve has good three good harbours, and six sheltered anchorages along its southern shore. The harbours are Mresker's Hide, in the half-moon bay in the southern half of the eastern shore of the island, and nameless harbours at the southern end of Thelve's western shore and in the inlet due west of Candlekeep, just north of "the Gaunt" (the local nickname for the lich-castle that faces Candlekeep). Onshore winds and swift currents make anchoring anywhere along the northern shore of Thelve hazardous - - and the western end of the north shore is where a large freshwater swamp, Taglan's Bones (named for a pirate captain slain by his crew somewhere nigh its quicksand heart, after an argument over hiding treasure there) empties into the briny 'Cauldron of the Reach' (a cartographer's term used by sages, scribes of Candlekeep, and bards, never by sailors familiar with the area).

So saith Ed.

I'll post the second half of the island descriptions tomorrow.

Your happily Hooded One

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January 2, 2005: Hello, all. Ed finishes up the last three islands for Jerryd and us all:

Sklorn is a misshapen equilateral triangle, with its west and south sides vertical and horizontal (and its roughly-nine-mile-long northeastern shore diagonal). Its south shore is approximately eight miles long, and sports two good anchorages flanking a central harbour (called "Sklorn's Rest" by some sailors, though some writings kept at Candlekeep suggest that Sklorn wasn't a sailor but rather a clan of humans or even half-orcs who once dwelt on the island). The other good harbour on Sklorn is at about the midpoint of its western shore; both harbours are washed clean by freshwater streams flowing down from the island's rocky interior.

Much as The Hooded One posted to you earlier, Sklorn is one of the two islands aptly described as follows: much used by pirates, and so littered with the wrecks of beached, scuttled, and half-burned ships. Sklorn is usually inhabited by a few monsters and castaways - - and is always home to uncounted thousands of squawking seabirds (mainly "gray coasters," large (and gray-fledged but with white underbellies) seabirds that can have eight-foot wingspans, and are something between a pelican, a cormorant, and an albatross: unpleasantly oily, but fat, stupid, and edible). Small colonies of seals lair along its the southern shore.

Unglur is the other pirate-littered island of the Reach. Like Sklorn, it has no visible ruins, and only a few seacaves for shelter. Unlike Sklorn, it has no freshwater springs (and very few seals, monsters, or castaways), and (thanks to the gray coasters and rock gulls), its trees and shrubs are visibly thinner. Otherwise, it, too, sports many wrecks of beached, scuttled, and half-burned ships. It is also said to be haunted by the long-clawed spirit of Unglur [note: if you have the MONSTER MANUAL III, use a boneclaw in place of the unique undead I crafted rather carelessly back in 1983] a bloodthirsty berserker among pirates in his day.

Unglur is the shape of a capital letter "P" with no hole in the middle, its upright 'back' running five miles northwest-southeast, its bottom stem being a mile across and running back northwest up its eastern side for about a mile before bulging out two miles north to begin the 'curve' of the 'P.' Unglur has no harbours, but does have an anchorage midway along its western shore, and a place where boats of all sizes can readily be beached where the stem and the bulge of the 'P' meet, on its eastern shore (prevalent winds make beaching easy, but getting a boat off again a matter of magic or much muscle on the part of parties of strong men on lines, or rowers on vessels offshore).

Raerest is the largest and outermost of the seven islands, being about the size of Thelve but with the addition of a three-mile-long-and-wide 'tail' jutting southeast off it (the longest straightline distance one can travel on Raerest is just under seventeen miles, north to south, and in general Raerest is about ten miles across, from east to west).

To some extent Raerest shelters the other six islands from the prevailing local winds, and is called 'the Prow' by some Sword Coast sailors for this reason. The eastern shore of this island offers almost a dozen good anchorages, but the winds and currents rake its other shores.

Raerest is dominated by 'the Shield,' a huge spine of high rock that curves along its westernmost edge. From end to end of Raerest several different sorts of rock can be seen, not just the uniform granite of the other islands, and the upthrust rocks of the Shield hold much soft, easily-gleaned copper; in many places a man with a sharp tool can carry off a basketful of very pure ore in a day, and many small embrasures and hollowed-out holes scarcely larger than the insides of coffins betray the minings of the past.

At the heart of Raerest are a line of three tiny, spring-fed lakes (paralleling the eastern flank of the Shield. At the northern end of this chain of lakes is a large, nameless freshwater swamp inhabited by lizardfolk, who regard Raerest as their own and hunt across it, hurling nets to take seabirds, setting out tidal weir-nets to reap fish from the sea, and maintaining clam beds in the swamp-mouth sands. They will hide from intruders until what they see as the right moment to attack.

At the southern end of the chain of lakes, in a bay on Raerest's southeastern shore, is a splendid natural harbour. Its shores are covered with in the overgrown ruins of Roaringcrest, a onetime pirate stronghold that was destroyed in an afternoon by one of the Twilight Three, unleashing deadly spells that left the port a place of wild and unreliable magic, where a crimson death and a darktentacles are known to lurk, and deadly automatons stalk. Sword Coast pirates tell lurid tales of the treasure that lies scattered for the taking in the collapsed and riven homes and sheds of Roaringcrest-treasure still largely unclaimed, in the face of its waiting perils.

And that's all I have on these seven islands. Not much, but certainly enough to get in the way of some campaign plans. Jerry, if it's the tabula rasa sort of terra incognito you need for your campaign, most of the Pirate Isles off the Sword Coast are entirely undetailed, and NDAs still cover the offshore islets near Baldur's Gate.

These particular so-close-offshore islands received this level of detail because I intended them as a campaign setting if the mages in the Company of Crazed Venturers relocated to Candlekeep (one of my players had expressed an interest in "conquering Candlekeep from within and becoming its defenders," so as to have what he saw as the PERFECT base for an adventuring company: access to all the spells he could think of, and a huge staff of servants/defenders. The idea never got off the ground, thankfully, though I did use the Raetheless for one of my limited-duration "library campaigns" in 1989.

I hope this lore is of help, and didn't collide with your campaign plans TOO harshly.

So saith Ed.

And there you have it; another superb little corner of the Realms for a campaign. Right on the doorstep of Candlekeep, too!

love to all,
THO

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January 3, 2005: Hello, all.

Mumadar, your question has been discussed by Ed and various Wizards staffers, but he informs me that NDAs firmly prevent him discussing this topic here at this time (which should suggest an answer of sorts to you, yes?).

However, I do bring the first part of Ed's regretful reply to Capn Charlie:

I'm sorry for both the lateness and paltry nature of this response, but I couldn't even begin to provide any exhaustive list of festivals and events. Not only do I run into NDA trouble right away, but every single day in the calendar features something or several somethings (if one includes both purely local traditions and all religious ceremonies, and covers all three of those countries).

What I will provide, though, are a handful or two of 'around the year' observances from Turmish that have hitherto not been published anywhere (to be added to the 'big holidays' noted in the Calendar of Harptos, and any temple holidays celebrated by faiths you want to make locally prominent in your campaign). I hope this will prove useful to you and all Realms DMs. If details I've given here don't fit your needs or likes, just change them: I see these sort of 'common festivals' as varying widely in local details, across the Heartlands.

Hammer 4 Wintershield
A day off work, whereon folk sip prepared, warmed ciders and broths (often laced with herbs for health and to bring on visions), stay inside and warm (huddling together or taking to a communal bed with many blankets and cloaks), and tell tales of what interested them or was important in the year just done, and what they intend to do or should deal with, or that everyone 'should keep an eye on,' in the year ahead. Such discussions inevitably lead into discussions of politics and wars and the intentions of rulers, and maps and far-farers are usually consulted. It's considered lucky to possess and examine a map on Wintershield, and sales of such things (however inaccurate, irrelevant, or sketchy) tend to be brisk in the tenday preceding this day. Some folk, particularly in Amn, Waterdeep, Sembia, and Chessenta, believe that this 'favour of the gods' comes not from hauling out old maps to consult, but by purchasing a new map every year and examining both it and older ones.

Few folk trade or try to travel on Wintershield, and those who dare to do so are often considered mad, evil, desperate, or defiant of the gods.

Alturiak 10 Sarkhuld
On this day, centuries ago, someone called Sark (or something similar) defeated many monsters (some tales say orc chieftans, others relate a varied sequence of beasts that always include a peryton, a leucrotta, and a manticore) and made his land or town or hamlet or farm safe from such perils for many years. To keep Turmish strong, monsters (ideally, an orc, peryton, and so on) must be hunted and slain on this day - - and someone, somewhere in Turmish, must cook and eat a portion of such a beast.

To guard against the downfall of the kingdom and specific locales and family fortunes in particular, folk of Turmish purchase (often from traveling peddlers, who are carefully policed by priests in the land to make absolutely certain they are selling genuine substances) vials of orc (or pertyon, or etc.) blood, and everyone in a dwelling must dab at least a drop on their tongues, another on their foreheads, and let a third fall into a flame or hot fire-hearth.

It's not known what orcs, perytons, leucrottas, and manticores do on Sarkhuld, aside from keeping very well hidden or away from Turmish - - but deaths down the years hint that orcs dwelling in the Orsraun Mountains try to slay at least one human each on this day; some "monster hunts" in Turmish are closer to pitched battles.

Ches 17 Spellfall
On this date, centuries ago, a beautiful sorceress was slain by a wizard in a duel wherein both shapechanged, much land was traversed and divers trees set afire, and the struggle ended when the dying woman (back in her own shape) fell from the sky, blazing like a bonfire.

Her name, that of her slayer, and the reason for their dispute are all forgotten, but the place where her body (that collapsed into ash, on the spot) landed (claimed by literally thousands of folk to be this or that patch of their own gardens or meadows) sprouted a rich profusion of flowers in a few days.

To keep the land strong, beautiful women with sorcerous powers volunteer to be set afire by means of a spell when aloft (taken there either by their own magic or by a spell cast by another), and fall to the ground, where local priests of ALL faiths resident in Turmish (regardless of portfolio) agree to heal (and if necessary raise to life) the women. These volunteers are known as "Sarathsa," but this name is known to be that of a sorceress who was transformed by a deity (there's sharp disagreement over which one) upon landing during a Spellfall observance some four centuries back, into a servant of that deity - - rather than being the name of the original sorceress.

It's crucial that a Sarathsa willingly put herself forward to enact this ritual, and that she suffer pain during the fall - - but there's no need for her to make the landing unprotected, or be burned without any protection, and spells are usually cast to minimize both sorts of damage. It's considered unlucky if any town, marketplace, or larger settlement in Turmish doesn't enact this ritual (and those who dwell elsewhere will send at least one representative from every hamlet to go and see a ritual enacted elsewhere, to ward off ill fortune from their own locale), and angry folk of Turmish are likely to drive out any priest who refuses to take part, or tear down their abode, shrine, or temple. (This doesn't mean that every last priest in a temple must get out and be seen casting spells to aid a Sarathsa, just that every temple or shrine should have a holy representative who does take part.)

After the ritual is done, and watchers celebrate by drinking, the Sarathsa should be whole - - that is, free of all disformities, sickness, and physical damage. The various priests must do whatever is necessary to make her that way, and so some diseased women choose to become Sarathsas so they'll get wholly healed, for free and without obligation.

So saith Ed.

I'll post the next part of his reply tomorrow, beginning with the festival of Walkskull.

love to all,
THO

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January 4, 2005: Hello, all. Ed's reply to Capn Charlie, relating festivals celebrated in Turmish (and elsewhere, too) continues through the year:

Tarsakh 24 Walkskull
The tail-end of winter always brings the hungriest days to Turmish, regardless of how bountiful the harvests of the preceding fall were. "Hungriest" is a relative term, of course: few folk in this verdant land are likely to starve, and far fewer (even in the mountains) will freeze while out on dangerous, desperate hunting forays to try to get something to eat than will perish in more northerly climes.

Nevertheless, larders tend to be rather empty, and folk sick of salted, pickled, dried, and long-cellared food. Fresh fruit may still be months away, but on this day elders in every village take skins of fruit liqueurs out on their backs, walking with escorts of their kin and fellow elders who carry human skulls in their hands in token of how near to us all death may be, and offer mouthfuls of the drink to anyone they see, to impart the hope of bounty to come.

On the night of Walkskull, most villagers gather at a tavern and get loudly, boisterously drunk together, with much dancing, laughter, tale-telling, and trysting for pleasure (out on the land, with blankets and daring) afterwards. Many shops open late or not at all, on the morning after Walkskull, and workers fail to appear - - and by custom and decree, this is tolerated without penalty or punishment. Wherefore "the morning after Walkskull" has become a Turmish expression for workers sitting around and talking rather than working, when customers are few or nonexistent.

Mirtul 6,7,8,9 The Running
Four days in which most shops are closed and markets cancelled, and apprentices and other workers visit parents, kin, or friends (they can reach, and return from, within the four day period), taking with them food or drink so informal "family feasting" can occur when they get together. This is a time for catching up on family news and local gossip, showing children to grandparents, making deals and taking home payments or gifts, and so on; temples in Turmish take part in this, allowing all novices and priests who desire to 'time off' from prayers and temple duties to go and see family; birth patterns tell all that many children are conceived each year at this time.

The roads and trails are crowded with travelers during The Running, and brigandage is always a problem, but folk in Turmish help each other along the way without payment (innkeepers, tavernmasters, and wagon-repairers excepted).

Kythorn 14 Guildhall
A day of trade fairs in all cities and towns of Turmish, in which shops are closed and usual daily work suspended. During Guildhall, traders from afar and almost all guilds and trade cabals of Turmish display new products, innovations, fashions, and the extent and quality of their services and wares. This is usually done by means of glittering displays, but sometimes also through small plays, or hired-by-the-guilds entertainments (jugglers, "magic shows" put on by hedge-wizards, and minstrelry) at which prizes or free samples are distributed.

So saith Ed.

More to come, of course, on the morrow.

love to all,
THO

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January 4, 2005 THO said: As it happens, Jerryd, I can handle this one without awakening Ed in his lair.

What follows quotes heavily from Ed's "secret notes" on Cormyr, given to his players (including me) after we investigated such things, in-game:

Vangerdahast is BOTH "Chairman Emperius of the College of War Wizards" AND "Chairman Emeritus of the College of War Wizards." The first version is the title he gave himself (after a suggestion by Elminster, with whom he was then still on friendly terms) when he re-organized the College of the War Wizards (the organization, housed in a few spell-trapped rooms of the Royal Court in Suzail, with "mirror" records hidden somewhere else rural) that confers formal membership in the War Wizards, keeps rolls of members (genealogies, truenames, identifying marks, oaths of membership, reports by them and about them, heraldry [personal sigils and runes], notes of spells they've created, and so on).

Vangey officially became "Chairman Emeritus" when he got too busy to personally direct the daily operations of this College, and turned it over to a quartet of senior (and aging) War Wizards (yes, as "reward jobs"for their declining years).

However (being the crafty power-monger that Vangey, above all, is) he never resigned his formal title, and indeed still draws pay from the Royal Treasury under it (he gets no salary as Royal Magician, though as Court Wizard he controls a very large budget that isn't supposed to be spent on himself beyond replacing his robes). This also keeps his four replacements reporting to him almost daily, as opposed to filing written reports once a month (or more often, upon demand) to the Court Wizard.

So the two titles both get used now, almost interchangeably. The mangled real-world Latin of both comes from Elminster, of course, who seems to enjoy these personal little jokes.

I'm sure Garen Thal, George Krashos, Grant Christie, Tom Costa, and other sages of things Cormyrean will want to read this, too. And yes, Jerry, the Shield on Raerest IS a set of towering cliffs on the western (seaward) side, with the beginnings of a few seacaves sl-l-o-o-wly being carved out of their VERY hard rock by the tireless Sea of Swords.

Yours in Realmslore,
love,
THO

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January 5, 2005: Hello, all.

Krash, Ed tells me he'll be sending an "elder runes" reply for you soon.

As for the matter of who's head of the War Wizards: Caladnei certainly is (post-ELMINSTER'S DAUGHTER). Chairing "The College of" the War Wizards is a different thing than leading them. To put it in Australian (and Canadian) terms, it's like having a Governor-General and a Prime Minister. The first has the formal, heraldic, empty power, and the latter runs the country (or pretends to).

Ed's unfolding reply to Capn Charlie continues, as our march through a year reaches the hot months:

Flamerule 9 Fists
This is a day of jousting in Cormyr and Sembia and unarmed wrestling in Aglarond, Thay, Turmish and the Vilhon Reach in general, Westgate, the Dales, and among forest-dwellers across the Heartlands (yes, Wild Elves, too). In Thay, slave 'champions' are used in contests.

Much betting takes place, and there are usually some matches ('frolics') that involve unclad wrestlers of both genders, and/or oiled bodies to make everyone slippery, and/or wrestling in food (often the last mouldy 'larder jellies' [sugared fruit concoctions] left from the previous winter). Formally this was a day when real scores would be settled, sometimes to the death, under cover of these mock combats, but in almost all places this has been outlawed, and fierce punishments are enacted on those who try to harm foes or cause 'accidents' to befall rivals or enemies.

No real work takes place during Fists, except in taverns and among food-sellers at the various combat venues. In Cormyr, two days before Fists and four days after Fists are allowed 'off work' for traveling to and from events, and recovery from participation in them. A lot of games of skill (which are gambled upon enthusiastically) with cards, dice, thrown darts, and the like now take place on Fists, so the unathletic can participate by some means other than howling support and placing bets. Local wealthy merchants, officials, and rulers often 'put up' prizes for such contests, and for exhibitions of martial skill such as archery and 'down-the-horse' (wherein strongfolk strive to knock a full-sized horse off its hooves faster than rivals).

Eleasias 22 Misrule
Formerly a day when children could give their parents orders, apprentices could do the same to their masters, underpriests instruct and command their superiors, and so on, this "celebration" has been marred by much violence and repercussions down the years, and has evolved into a day when the apprentices of rival guilds clash in street brawls (in cities) for the title of "King of the Streets' (usually trying to bring an actual high-backed wooden seat or 'Throne' to a central spot, and keep it there, whilst preventing other bands of brawlers from installing their thrones).

In rural areas, rather than battling over thrones, large mobs of youths gather for violent, landscape-spanning games of 'Claim the Crown' that last until sunset (when local rulers or temples provide meals and much drink, the latter usually laced with sleep-inducing substances to quell trouble).

Claim the Crown is a sport akin to Capture the Flag, involving two teams trying to outscore each other. A point is scored by bringing the Crown (who is usually a beautiful woman clad in polished-bright chainmail who must not be harmed, and who can choose to hide, flee, or cooperate), to established 'goal' spots, one for each team. The Crown can be physically restrained (and is usually carried) by participants, but must not be rendered unconscious, bound, or confined within anything (in some local variants, the Crown is carried in an open coffin, or seeks to remove her armour and toss it away whilst the team possessing her seeks to prevent this; if she's wearing less than half the pieces when she reaches the scoring spot, no point can be scored until she's clad again).

Sometimes several Crowns take part in a Misrule match, one succeeding another as each becomes weary or overly battered. Local clergy and wizards heal participants, officiate the scoring, and magically teleport the Crown to various (usually random) spots so play can resume after each 'claim.' Claim the Crown is usually played in terrain affording cover, often rolling pastureland, woodlots, and forest - - but the scoring spots are usually hills or other easily-seen places.

Eleint 28 Brightswords
A day when guards and soldiers parade in glittering array, give demonstrations of martial skill (archery and bombardment are popular) or stage mock battles, and persons desiring to join their ranks are given chances to demonstrate their prowess (usually with wooden practise weapons, in contests against veteran soldiers). Weaponmakers and vendors sell their wares openly in the markets, experts who can hurl or juggle weapons show off their skills, and there are horse races open to all (including wagon races, and archery-from-the-saddle races). Wealthy merchants, local officials, and rulers give prizes (usually a trophy full of coins) to the winners of such contests - - and spies employed by most governments watch for promising recruits, known villains sneaking in to steal or purchase weapons, and sources of good weapons or well-trained mounts.

So saith Ed.

Yes, there'll be more to come tomorrow.

love to all,
THO

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January 6, 2005: Ed's reply to Capn Charlie about annual festivals and holidays concludes, thus:

Marpenoth 7 Stoneshar
On this day, ceremonial building is begun. It's seen as the best day of the year for the construction of a building to begin (with the digging out of cellars and the laying of at least one foundation-stone), because such an act is thought to confer the favour of all the gods not just on the place where the act of construction is commenced, but on the building that results.

However, even if no buildings are needed or will be built, prayers are offered to the gods as two stones are placed, one sited in the earth or on bedrock, and the other placed atop the first, in a ritual representing building.

Stoneshar is seen as a good day for beginning business ventures, making deals, signing contracts, and constructing small items (from pots to tools). Temples of Lathander, Gond, and Grumbar charge no fees during Stoneshar, and throw open their doors to all for priests to give advice, render aid, and demonstrate building methods, skills, and tools.

"The gods help those who help themselves" is a saying heard often during Stoneshar, an all-faiths festival in which all priesthoods refrain from punishment and destruction of any sort. There are no executions on Stoneshar, and it is not a day for idleness. Even children at play are encouraged to make things, even if their constructions are merely holes, sandcastles, or crude models: the industry is what's holy on this day, for by their exertions and the projects they begin, folk attract the favour of all the gods down upon them and where they dwell, until next Stoneshar. Conversely, sloth and laziness risks the displeasure of the gods (and all manner of misfortune, as "Beshaba dances unchained") on the individuals and their dwelling-place, for the year ahead.

Communal feasts (wherein all participants bring food, in what we modern real-world folk would call "potluck") are common in most places; in cities, these are often held at local temples or usually-private clubs (and yes, some clubs put on entertainments and 'dress the place up' in order to entice gawking visitors into joining, or to enhance their fearsome local reputations).

Uktar 20 Last Sheaf
Regardless of the actual end of harvest (usually at least a tenday or more earlier, though Turmish can be warm far later into the year than latitudes north of, say, the Lake of Dragons), this day of feasting is held in celebration of the year's bounty. Small gifts (traditionally, handkegs of ale, jars of preserves, and smoked fish and meats) are exchanged among neighbours, and "last letters" are gathered for carriage by ship captains and caravan merchants to points south (most points north are already inaccessible, thanks to coastal ice and inland snows). Many rulers send out clerks, envoys, and heralds to gather the last news, pleas, and requests from remote subjects before winter really closes in. In more mountainous parts of Turmish, hunt are held for stags and other big game; if successful, a second day of feasting follows.

Nightal 11 Howldown
Wolf hunts (and hunts of all other sorts of predators, from owlbears and trolls to brigands and orc bands) are held, with all able-bodied folk (mercenaries and adventurers are expected to take part, too, without thought of payment or gain) gathering into large hunting parties, and local spellcasters aiding in 'flushing out' prey. The intent is to eliminate predators who will endanger citizens and their livestock when food grows scarce in the worst depths of the winter.

Regardless of the success of the hunts, the night ends with large bonfires and much drinking and the telling of hunting tales. Elders who were great hunters in their day are toasted, and trophies (claws, horns, teeth, and heads of slain monsters) are distributed to be boiled clean and hung on walls and over mantels.

So saith Ed, who adds his hopes that Capn Charlie will enjoy these, as we all embark on another year of great gaming.

love to all,
THO

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January 7, 2005: Kentinal, herewith Ed of the Greenwood makes reply to your fortified manors queries:

Long before the formal idea of what has become the Silver Marches was first raised, Everlund saw the wisdom of nestling under the protection of Silverymoon, and so positioned itself in all ways as a friend and ally. Having rooted inhabitants dwelling on both sides of the Rauvin was seen as wise strategy by the rulers of both cities, and patrolling the lands between them so as to forge a (relatively) 'safe' slice of the wilderlands of the North as a welcome goal.

If folk settle in this forested region of gently rolling hills and carve out small farms or build dwellings (necessarily fortified for protection against owlbears, brigands, and wandering foraging bands of goblins, orcs, and bugbears), that's seen as highly desirable to further 'anchor' the region.

Most such landowners build in the lands between Silverymoon and Everlund so as to live in seclusion (they may be wizards wanting solitude for study, various folk who want privacy because they don't adhere to comfortable societal norms or fit into the 'sort of folk accepted by most others' [such as lycanthropes, drow, members of various cults, and so on]), but within reach of the services, goods, and customers or sources of recruits offered by the generally tolerant, 'good' folk of Everlund and Silverymoon. Few of these landowners (who are known locally as "forestholders") are stupid enough to dispute the authority of the armed patrols sent out by either Silverymoon or Everlund.

In short, yes, the forestholders are independent of the authority of either city, but they see the value of being able to rely on the patrols to 'keep down' the perils outside their walls, and when REAL trouble knocks at their gates (orc hordes, fell armies on the march; that sort of thing), the opportunity to run to the protection of walled Silverymoon, or the numbers afforded by the population of Everlund, so as to be able to reach Silverymoon alive or take barge down the Rauvin and out of the area.

As a result, it's rare indeed for any forestholder to argue with a patrol in any way, providing water, food, shelter and stabling at short notice, and for low fees - - but in return, the patrols always DO pay for what they need, treat the forestholders with polite respect, and even volunteer their muscle for timber-lifting (for fence and building repairs, extrication of mired wagons, and so on).

Most of these fortified manors are little more than a stables, a pantry/granary, a springhouse (most of them are sited where springs of drinkable water come to the surface, in this area of many such springs), a kitchen garden, a carriage house or workshed, and a dwelling [however small or large and elaborate - - and most start small, and are added to by wings and towers, as needs dictate over the passing years]. Building stone is plentiful and easily gathered, and most buildings are of stone, with roofs of wood and wood shingles, and encircling walls of a timber palisade reinforced by courses of stone blocks on the inside, and steep banks of earth on the outside (planted with creepers to hold the soil). Over the seasons, as the palisade rots, the place where it has been is "fired" [small fires built in the cavities] to bake the mud on one side, and the cement-like mortar of the stone walls on the other side, hard - - and the cavities are then filled in with stone rubble and refuse.

Most holds can't support themselves unless growing conditions can be aided with spells (they haven't the space and enough days of warmth to grow enough vegetables to feed many mouths). Few have enough long-term residents to gather enough wild food, or do enough hunting, to keep tables spread throughout an entire year (especially the long, overly harsh winters, which has led to some of the more formidable forestholders abandoning their holds every fall for warmer dwellings in Tethyr and parts south, and returning in spring to, if necessary, re-conquer their own holds from whoever's moved in during the cold months).

Though such holdings tend to cluster together along trails (especially close to Everlund), there are no hamlets: the authorities in both Everlund and Silverymoon discourage such forming, because they know such places will inevitably spring up around guardposts established by their patrols - - making the guardposts more inviting targets and endangering the patrols because potential attackers will be able to dwell in, or hide among, the buildings, paddocks, sheds, and side-alleys that are a part of every settlement.

Kentinal, I'm guessing you're seeing this region of the Realms a little too much like real-world Eruope, where no matter how "wild" the terrain is, there's always a defined border and someone claiming the lands on both sides of it.

Even in the most-heavily-settled part of the inland Sword Coast North that we're discussing, we have a frontier situation where boundaries are ill-defined and even the extent of patrolled areas change with seasons, resources, and perceived danger. True authority tends to end at about the point of your drawn sword, if you see what I mean. In real-world terms, this is SOMEWHAT like the Hollywood (i.e. endless) version of the American 'Wild West,' only a lot colder and so more dictated by sheer survival needs.

However, your question about borders elsewhere in the Realms is a good one. There are "a number of small, private fortified manor houses that serve as rather exclusive inns (often patronized by caravan companies, adventuring bands, and parties of envoys)," to use my own earlier words, in easternmost Amn and Tethyr, northernmost Sembia, in the southeasternmost Tashalar, throughout the Border Kingdoms, and around Hillsfar - - not to mention many other areas I haven't really thought about in any detail.

Prime adventuring country, in other words. Go for it! :}

So saith Ed.

Whose last few sentences remind me of the Ghost Holds nigh Battledale, wherein we Knights have spent many a hair-raising day. An isolated hold would be a great setting for a Clue-style murder mystery, too.

love to all,
THO

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January 8, 2005: Krash, greetings of the turning season back to you from Ed and from myself. It gives Ed great pleasure to spin a somewhat teasing answer to thy recent query, as follows:

Ah, yes: elder runes.

George, "elder runes" is a collective modern-day Realms term, probably coined by an unknown human sage at least a thousand years ago (because it's about that long ago that the term gradually seeps into common usage among students and workers of magic), referring to a growing (as they're "rediscovered") collection of magical symbols (probably NOT of common origins) used by long-ago workers of magic.

More specifically, we know that some Netherese (and a handful of their scattered descendants, after the fall of that realm) used them, and also that before that, dwarves of Besilmer employed some of what we now call 'elder runes, ' and may well have merely augmented and expanded upon runes in use earlier among the Stout Folk. The names now used for many of the known elder runes hint that elves also used them, and adventurers know that certain shamans among the goblinkin (orcs, goblins, and especially hobgoblins) draw them to this day.

There are tales that certain 'sensitive' beings can feel the nearby presence of any elder rune, and that runes of the same sort are somehow linked (no matter how distant one drawing of Angras may be from another, teleportation of a person, item, or just a verbal message [emitted aloud but in some cases also stored in the rune until it is next touched, or even after] between them is possible).

Although the runes have acquired 'wayfarer' meanings (noting the presence of shelter, for instance), it's clear they formerly also had other meanings and purposes.

Most of them possessed now-exhausted magical powers, a few still store these magics, and almost all of them, if whole (i.e. the drawn glyph isn't broken by damage to the drawing or the surface it's graven upon), can be 'recharged' with magic by those who know how.

And there's the rub: elder runes have magical powers only if imbued with such by many now-forgotten spells that can be cast upon them at any time. Most of the beings still 'alive' who know such magics are either dragons or undead (usually liches). It's certain that some dragons and baelnorn deliberately recharge elder runes often to bolster defenses around lairs, caches, hoards, and ruined dwellings.

In Realmsplay, I've never detailed those spells, but used the runes as (usually) harmless 'dungeon decoration,' but sometimes as waiting magical traps that unleash just about any spell effect I wanted them to, to enhance whatever unfolding adventure the Knights were currently having. (In short, they were one more of my DM's 'bag of tricks,' useful because their mere presence and numbers could help to 'steer' the Knights into or away from a particular doorway or tomb, by hinting that a place was well-guarded or important.) As I recall, THO can impart a particularly fond memory of one elder rune that, ahem, entertained her.

So saith Ed.

And yes I can (grrr): a pair of runes, on floor and (lofty, very hard to see from the floor) ceiling, that slammed me back and forth between them many times in a reverse gravity trap that we dubbed a 'wham wham' (fall up, slam hard into ceiling, activate elder rune, fall down to slam hard on the floor, reactivating the rune there to make you fall up again - - and, of course, lather, rinse, and repeat). I got plenty tired of that one, believe you me.

love to all,
THO

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January 9, 2005: Hello, all.

Ardashir, Ed used to pen lots of these little "his encounters with folk of the Realms" bits for the amusement of us Knights and various TSR folk. I'll see if I can't worm some of them out of him, to share here.

Meanwhile, Ed wades once more into matters wizardly, courtly, and Cormyrean:

Jerryd, Garen Thal has stated things precisely. To his reply to you, let me just add these tidbits:

"Court Wizard" has duties as Garen Thal has outlined, but to them add: official (daily, at the Royal Court) advisor to the realm on all matters of magic, liaison between the Crown and the War Wizards, and proclaimer of official policy on matters magical. This is the "duty to the realm" side, and is separate from "Royal Magician" (personal bodyguard mage of the Obarskyrs and personal adviser to the monarch), because of course the two offices could be held by two different people.

It should be noted that the Royal Magician serves the ruling FAMILY first ("the Crown") rather than individual monarchs, although they advise the ruling monarch. In other words, all the "-ahast" wizards have seen their primary duty as being to stable rulership of the realm (so they could conceivably dupe, murder, depose, thwart, or deliberately leave unprotected a foolish, reckless, insane, or otherwise unsuitable ruler).

Just so we're clear, the "College of War Wizards" isn't all of the War Wizards, but rather is a small inner body (as the British "College of Arms" wasn't in earlier times all heralds working and deciding things together, but rather the governing body of blazonry), with duties just as Garen Thal stated. Your "option b" is the correct one: Vangey assembled the four senior War Wizards into his replacement as 'chair' of this small administrative board. They act as 'chairman' without having any official titles, just pay raises and everyone being firmly told where they now rank in the chain of command, and what authority they now wield.

Caladnei hasn't assumed a "Chairman" title, but theoretically she could (as "the new Vangey," following in his footsteps of doing whatever she sees as necessary). Remember, she was a reluctant conscript for the role of Vangey's replacement, was initially an uncomfortable outsider not wanting to ruffle any feathers, she hates formality and matters bureaucratic, and she (correctly) sees Vangerdahast's unofficial assumption of being 'Untitled But Absolute Lord Commander of Everything' as being a mistake born of his need (as a detail man) to run EVERYTHING.

She sees matters thus (as do Laspeera, Alusair, and Filfaeril): It's morally and practically wrong to concentrate this much power in one individual (who's feared and mistrusted by the populace as a result, rather than being their accepted ruler), and it's also unsustainable: it simply wears out the one individual and makes him or her too easily susceptible to being distracted or simply lack the time to do a proper job of anything (too much 'my back is turned so the mice play' possibilities).

So as Caladeni doesn't want all of these headaches but does very much want the support of the three women just mentioned, and they see things the same way, she's allowing others to do far more than Vangey did.

Leader of the War Wizards isn't an official title for the same reason both "Chariman" titles were invented: Vangerdahast (like his predecessors, the earlier "-ahast" mages) wanted it that way. Doing things unofficially slows opposition to any increase in personal power, and Vangey was always impatient with "all of these venal, grasping, self-interested and dull-witted do-nothings" at Court who "got in his way" of running Cormyr.

I'd like to caution you firmly AGAINST writing up for the War Wizards your proposed "executive board" (the quartet) that oversees day-to-day operations, and an "administrative or advisory board" (pre-existing the Emeritus title) of senior wizards each responsible for a different function or aspect of War Wizard operations (Purple Dragon attachments, Imperial Navy attachments, investigative teams, border outpost assignments, etc.).

What you envisage is what always develops in real-world fairly stable and prosperous countries, yes (massive, ever-expanding bureaucracy), and the modern American example is a case in point. It's what Cormyr will develop over time, probably. But it's definitely not what the Forest Kingdom has now, because Vangerdahast prevented it. He found a 'strong right hand' he could trust (Laspeera) because he had to sleep sometime and couldn't effectively be in two places at once, but otherwise kept power concentrated in his own hands precisely to AVOID the turf-battles and infighting and inflexibility that develops (to use modern real-world America again, consider the decades of infighting between the CIA and the FBI, and the recent proliferation of security agencies all established for pretty much the same reason: executives in the White House at a particular time didn't want to work with or through the CIA, FBI, NSA, and all of the existing others, but preferred their own new organization under their own personal control).

Like Vangey (so she could have the same freedom to act as he did) Laspeera had no formal title, but everyone at Court (and every last War Wizard) KNEW her authority, just as they did Vangey's, and obeyed them both absolutely. Vangey spell-peered into Laspeera's mind daily, and she submitted to this mental invasion willingly, knowing he constantly HAD to be sure she wasn't getting traitorous thoughts or even wanting to do things differently from him: they had to speak as one, for the good of the realm.

Vangerdahast was firmly stamping out all tendencies among the War Wizards to form cliques (what could be worse for the Realm than a War Wizard traitor [with some War Wizard friends], perhaps acting with, or behind, the latest ambitious rebel nobles?), and worked hard to be the sort of boss who might turn up at the greenest War Wizard's elbow to work with him or stare hard and critically at what he was doing, and so 'cut out' middle managers. The fact that all of the War Wizards wield magic makes the real-world parallels of memos and office misinformation and so on very weak.

So what Cormyr actually has is a quartet of old fussies who see to the formalities of who's registered as a War Wizard and so on, NOT "day-to-day operations," and it entirely lacks any "administrative or advisory board... of senior wizards each responsible for a different function or aspect of War Wizard operations." Vangey consulted War Wizards (and sages, and just plain Cormyreans) about situations and places if he thought it was necessary, but he'd have no truck at all with an advisory board: he preferred either to gather information personally or to interrupt a War Wizard's lovemaking after midnight to tell the fellow to "put the lass aside and get to Arabel, RIGHT NOW," and talk to these dozen people and report back their views on Topic X.

There's little point in anyone crafting Realmslore that's knowingly different from 'the official line' or what's soon going to be published (ahem), so forget the advisory board. Please.

So saith Ed.

Who's saving you work, Jerry, you fortunate fellow! I can add a note from Realmsplay to this: Torm wanted to know just who did what among the War Wizards (How does the command structure of the War Wizards work? Who gives orders to whom?), probably for purposes of subversion and bribery, and he discovered (the hard way) that Vangey gave all the orders, sometimes through various other War Wizards (not always the same ones), so no one really knew where they stood. Note the collegiality of the two chess-playing War Wizards we see briefly in the Cormyr novels (Elminster introduced Vangey to chess, of course, and its popularity swiftly spread among the War Wizards as they sought to please and emulate 'the Old Man' [Vangey]); this easygoing working together resulted from most War Wizards NOT resenting their rank and superiors - - because they can't really tell what their own rank is, or their superiors are, except by rough age/experience and merit (with a FEW exceptions like the alarphons, Vangey, and Laspeera).

Ed and several of us 'original players' actually discussed this amorphous feature of the War Wizards once, and he said it, like many things in the Realms, was designed for maximum playability (maximum freedom for a DM). Of course, times of change (Azoun IV dead, Alusair as regent, and Vangey retired and Caladnei in his place) also make for maximum playability.

Cunning, cunning Ed...

love to all,
THO

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January 10, 2005: Hello, all. Here from some old e-mails, are words of Ed Greenwood's relevant to Laughing Wizard's query, reproduced here with Ed's permission:

I doubt I'll ever get the chance to publish the original version of Spellfire. Because of the cut-and-paste-and-photocopy second draft I had to do (it was written in longhand and then typed, BC = before computers), I'd have to reconstruct it anyway.

It ran to about 220,000 words, but was later, before I handed in the first draft, cut to 150,000 words (which is what the contract specified), and initially did what Jim Ward and Jeff Grubb asked me to: "show the Realms to the waiting world. Shoot the works, write whatever you like, but show us many of the most powerful characters. You'll be doing a book a year, at least, so don't bother to tell us all of their stories, just bring 'em onstage to get everyone interested in them."

When I said that last requirement sounded like it would make a book with no plot or a dogs-breakfast of a plot, Jean Black, then head of TSR Books, suggested I put some world-shaking menace into the book that would draw everyone important into being involved. Hence spellfire.

- - -

Spellfire was never supposed to be available to just anyone, and the attempts to make it into a character class or game ability for characters have been disasters, because it's a world-beater. From the first, I wanted to underscore the tragedy (hence the original fate of Shandril's mother) that it consumes anyone who has it: it's a death sentence. So Shandril was doomed from the first. And so was her unborn child: to heal Narm, she had to sacrifice the child inside her. THAT was something TSR ran a mile from!

- - -

I never wanted this to be a trilogy. As I told Mary Kirchoff when she took over Books Dept., I was against deliberate fantasy trilogies (which almost always have an 'unfinished' Book One, an 'everybody runs everywhere and nothing gets resolved' Book Two, and a 'grand parade with trumpet flourishes, impossible for the good guys to win but somehow they do' Book Three). Ongoing series yes, but trilogies no.

This meant everything was just left hanging until Mary departed, and Jim Lowder then asked me to "at last" write the sequel to Spellfire, which became Crown of Fire.

Crown is a plot disaster, and that's my fault, because I overwrote again and couldn't wrap things up properly in the wordcount given. I also very much wanted to introduce more toys for gamers to play with (like bringing in Mirt and Oprion Blackstone and the sewers of Zhentil Keep and the Hidden House), and doing so pulled the story out of shape. So did the editorial requirements to use beholders, the Zhents (especially Manshoon), the Knights of Myth Drannor, Elminster and Storm ("to make sure readers know this is a Realms book" [!]) and "a new villain, give us a good one and destroy him; an undead would be neat" (the lich lord). I wanted to kill Delg to force Shandril to be the hero by herself, and did so (knowing many readers would just HATE it), and I wanted to show Sarhthor's self-sacrifice. A lot of beholder motivation scenes, wherein they discussed what to do with human underlings, got cut by the editors (I wish we'd had web enchancements then: they could have been published but kept out of the narrative, which, yes, they really slowed down) and those would have been useful to DMs, too.

Hand of Fire was written "to finish up Shandril's story, and her with it." I had to kill her off, and didn't want to (in that manner), and decided to use the book to bring onstage Hesperdan and the Maimed Wizard and some other useful future toys, and to give readers a glimpse of Scornubel and a good look at what a Sword Coast caravan run was like. Again, it was suggested I bring in Mirt and the Seven and Sharantyr for walk-on parts, "because readers want to see them."

- - -

Many readers, because of what was done to Spellfire, just don't understand one of the sideline things I was trying to do with that book: turn fantasy cliches on their heads. The "hero" is a weakling (and stays that way), and the heroine is the strong one - - but unwilling. She wanted adventure (and be careful what you wish for...). So she's not confident, she doesn't act cool and collected, and she screws up - - a lot. Which is what most real "heroes" do, of course.

Those cliches? Well, no one ever kills off an adventuring party, because, hey, they're the heroes. So, wham, I killed off the Company of the Bright Spear. The all-wise wizard always stumbles by chance onto the scene when folks need rescuing and instantly knows EXACTLY what's going on and what to do - - so I had Elminster and Florin stroll right through a battle, with Old El oblivious. No one ever goes to the bathroom, or attacks the good guys when they're asleep, making love, or otherwise at a disadvantage (whereas the good guys can ALWAYS do that to the bad guys). So I put in a scene (cut right away, because, saith TSR, we don't have bathroom humour in our books!) wherein Shandril goes off into the bushes near the rest of the Company, as they travel overland, and the Zhents who've been stalking them and waiting for just this opportunity attack the rest of the Company, who shout to Shandril for help. Being as she's a teenaged girl with her pants around her ankles, there's NO WAY she's coming out of those bushes just then, so she keeps yelling back, "Just a moment!" and so on. In most adventure fiction, from the original Wizard of Oz movie onwards, good guys and bad guys alike 'off' guards casually to get into fortresses. I wrote several such scenes - - and added little tales for the reader about just who this guard was, his dreams, his wife and kids back home, and so on, to drive home the loss of a life, rather than just passing it off as a moment of casual bloodshed.

You name the cliche, and I took a run at it. The problem is, only a few of my 'runs' survived, all distorted, as the book was hacked apart and then a few surviving pieces of it were stitched back together again into a quite different narrative.

Sometimes clumsily. For instance, there's a reference in the original published version of Spellfire to a darkenbeast (TSR name: I originally called them "dark horrors") attack on Harper's Hill, but that entire scene was chopped out. I remember getting a puzzled call from a TSR designer working on a monster compendium, later, wondering just what the hey these 'darkenbeasts' were, as he'd read the entire novel through three times and couldn't find them!

Also, the first printing of Spellfire refers to the toppling of Ferostil's "corpse" on page 50, but Ferostil is up and fighting again two pages later! This is the result of editors writing of an entire character out of the ranks of the Company, telescoping two fighters into one (in later printings of the first version of Spellfire, "corpse" got changed to "body" to cover this up). And so on. Because TSR didn't deliver the computer to me that I was supposed to write Spellfire on (it was to be my advance payment) until well after the "final" draft of the novel was handed in, various secretaries at TSR were called on to input sections of my manuscript, and (I was told) some of them edited my quasi-medieval English phrasings into modern American business English! And so on. The point is, the whole thing became a comedy of errors, and no one came out of it looking good.

My two biggest edit regrets: 1. The removal of many, many scenes of Narm and Shandril entombed together and deciding they're going to die, and only then deciding that if they're going to die anyway, they want to at least have the pleasure and comfort of having made love to someone once, and ONLY THEN having sex (of which my only description was "They twisted and arched fiercely in the darkness."). Not only did they discuss a lot of life issues and thereby show us both their own characters and lots of Realms attitudes, the result was ludicrous lust rather than tenderness: in the published book, the moment the lights are out and they're alone, it's off clothes and have at each other!

2. The removal of the entire layer of story of El and The Simbul battling the Malaugrym, so it then seems as if they and the Knights just heartlessly abandon Narm and Shandril. I tried to put back some of these in the Spellfire rewrite, but we all know what happened there. Among other things, that's why we ended up with TWO dracoliches at the end of Spellfire, rather than just one. Grrr.

- - -

Spellfire didn't work as well (as an assignment, to introduce a lot of the important NPCs of the Realms, and "show us the Realms") as I wanted it to, because the editing trimmed a lot of characters that weren't seen as germane to the main plot, but it still works: when you read it, the Realms does "come alive." It was supposed to be the first Realms book, and do the big tour of the world (that Bob ended up doing a bit of, in Streams of Silver), but I still, warts and all, like it, in that it remains an entertaining pulp read. Which is all I was being allowed to do, with TSR trimming out the satiric elements and the original picaresque presentation and the layers of meaning.

It also works as a commercial book, with sales (If I can believe the royalty statements) of well over 500,000 copies, if one counts all the foreign editions, and still going. As far as I know, that's territory that only Bob and Margaret & Tracy reach, so SOME readers liked it. A lot of "some" readers, actually. :}

- - -

Note the "New, Expanded Edition" notation on the cover of the second version of Spellfire. Don't believe it. I was given the chance to put back all the Malaugrym stuff, so long as my rewrite wasn't a word longer. In fact, this was emphasized to me thus: "For every word you add, you have to take one out." so I did that, trimming a lot of colour text and details from the original published version to put back a minimal, stripped-down version of the "El and The Simbul and the Knights battle the Malaugrym" into the book.

After it was all done, handed in, and accepted, another 10,000 or so words were sliced out of the book, without my involvement, "to bring it down to the length of Realms books we're now doing." This was done by going through the entire book trimming words here and there from almost every sentence - - which of course inevitably destroys the writing style. I'm STILL angry about that.

- - -

Hand of Fire was written in horrible haste, and revised even faster, and I'm not very pleased with the result. However, I was prevented from telling Shandril's tale as I originally wanted to tell it, in a four-book series, which was:

Hand of Fire: Narm and Shandril use a succession of ancient gates to 'jump' in stages towards Silverymoon, pursued hotly by the Zhents (whose infighting we're shown, in detail).

Narm and Shandril attract the attention of beings who guard the gates by using them, and by slow stages, they possess Narm and turn him into something far more ruthless, wise, and formidable-in-magic than he was. He betrays Shandril, and she defeats him but tries to rescue him, and gets them both (Narm badly wounded) to Silverymoon.

Book Four ("Tomb of Fire"?): In Silverymoon, Shandril is jumped by some of the Zhent agents there, but is rescued and taken to Alustriel. She pleads with Alustriel to aid Narm and herself, and Alustriel takes Narm away to be healed (and also to be a hostage for Shandril's good behaviour and remaining in Silverymoon) and privately wrestles with the decision as to whether or not just destroying Shandril will be best for the Realms.

Mirt and Asper (along with some other Harpers) make their way to Silverymoon. Sharantyr (following the trail of gates, and also slowly being influenced by their guardians) also comes to Silverymoon.

The Zhents (including priests and beholders) attack Silverymoon in earnest, calling in various powerful wizards as allies with promises of sharing spellfire, trying to get Shandril (and promising to stop and withdraw if she's surrendered to them). At the same time, the Cult of the Dragon attacks slyly in a 'snatch and grab' attempt as the Zhent battles are raging.

Shandril talks to Alustriel, is horrified to learn that Alustriel is keeping Narm as a hostage, even more horrified to learn about the bloodshed happening over her, and resolves to give herself to the Zhents to end it. Alustriel tells her that doing so won't end it, but Shandril bursts out of the Palace and fire-flies through the wards (literally burning a hole in them) to reach the Zhents.

Who of course start to fight among themselves over her, and be attacked by Dragon Cultists. Narm learns what she's done, and bursts out of his confinement to go and rescue her. Mirt and Asper and Sharantyr all get in on the fighting, which is outside the city, south of Southbank Silverymoon, and Mirt sacrifices himself to protect Shandril.

She's devastated, and even more stricken when Narm is mortally wounded. She hurls all her spellfire into healing him once more, leaving herself vulnerable, and all the Zhent wizards pour spells into her, seeking to gain control of her mind or body and thus of spellfire, rather than to destroy her.

Alustriel then 'rides the Weave' into Shandril, to try to prevent this, but is mentally fought to a halt by all the Zhents. Fearing Shandril's mind will be burnt out like a candle in this struggle, Alustriel mentally 'calls in' Elminster and The Simbul from distant corners of Faerûn, and they, too, 'ride the Weave' into Shandril's mind, and ruthlessly take control of her spellfire, using it to blast down Zhent after Zhent until the Zhents all flee.

Whereupon they restore Narm and Shandril physically, blot out most of their memories, 'pour' the spellfire out of her (forever) into the Weave, and leave her as... a young, pregnant lass with no powers save the natural ability to wield magic, and some dreams.

For their own protection, the three Chosen then grimly alter the appearances of Narm and Shandril (letting readers know they've had to do this many times before) and take them elsewhere to start a new life, and the (last Shandril) book ends with Shandril in the humble farm-cottage she shares with Narm, telling him of her strange, vivid, recurring nightmares of blasting beholders and skeletal dragons and being chased by sinister wizards, and wondering if it's the child she carries that's upsetting her mind so (written in such a way as to make the reader wonder if the unborn child is going to have spellfire, or be some sort of Great Villain or Great Monster).

The reader, and only the reader (not Narm or Shandril) is shown the wraith-like guardian creatures of the gates gathering in the cottage shadows, silently watching Shandril as she lies abed with Narm musing about this, to underscore that THEY'RE waiting for her babe to be born.

All of which, of course, sets up future books if (and only if) TSR wants them, centered on Shandril's child.

I did submit this to TSR, and Brian Thomsen mentioned that he liked it and "wanted to get to it after we've done all the other books we want you to do first." This was NOT a 'yes, yes, delay forever' gambit on his part, in my judgement, but an honest attempt to first accommodate my desire to do a Mirt and Durnan novel, and Crazed Venturers books, and a Knights of Myth Drannor series, and a Waterdeep "mean streets" series, and all the other things I hadn't had the chance to write in that seven years after Spellfire when I was so busy churning out and helping others write a flood of Realms products, to really establish the setting. And I can't and don't blame TSR for that: above all, they wanted to avoid the "Gary bottleneck" that had so plagued Greyhawk: Gary Gygax was so busy running TSR that he couldn't find the time to write the Greyhawk products he so sorely wanted to write, and had mentioned, and the fans were so (increasingly) impatiently waiting for, as the years passed... and passed... so there was NO WAY they were going to let the same thing happen with me.

Brian of course moved on after Wizards swallowed TSR, and Shandril's Saga became a trilogy.

As with so many things I didn't want to write but did, the threat was always "you write it or we'll get someone else to write it" - - and I sure as blazes didn't want anyone else to do the killing off of Shandril.

xxxxxxxxx
THO here.

I asked Ed about probably the only valid criticism Winterfox made, in the Spending 50 Dollars thread, among all the other nasty things she said about Spellfire: everybody calling each other "my lord" and "my lady."

Here's Ed's reply:
xxxxxxxxx

Husbands and wives refer to each other that way (regardless of what real-world rank or title they have or lack), as a sign of reverence and love. Servants, sworn bondsmen, and knights speak to their lords and ladies like that, too (a usage that should already be familiar to even those who've only seen Hollywood takes on medieval feudalism). Social inferiors address their superiors that way, also (sometimes mockingly), although in my original manuscript I have whores and serving wenches saying, "Milord" and "Milady" as distinct from "My Lord" and "My Lady," so you can tell the usages apart. The editors slashed those differences out of existence right away.

As to WHY all of these folk in the Realms talk this way: that's the way I wanted it. It was after all MY fantasy world back then, and I'd just been asked to introduce a wider audience to "my Realms," this manner of speech was a detail I wanted in the world I was creating. TSR was quite right, from their point of view, to simplify my courtly and archaic language, eliminate most duplications of character names in the world, and so on. But when it was just my world, I crafted it the way I wanted it.

I suppose Winterfox might criticize Tolkien for putting elves and dwarves into Middle-Earth, too, if he was still alive to give her the chance. It puzzles me why anyone who has so much hurtful and impolite to say about a fantasy world joins and participates in a Net forum dedicated to that fantasy setting, but only she can tell us that.

I DON'T disagree with most of the things she says about the Shandril books in what you sent me, because after the editing was done, a lot of the plot IS missing, I made some mistakes when crafting it in the first place, and I wasn't particularly interested in doing a plot-driven (as opposed to character-driven) book back then anyway. However, a lot of Winterfox's posts in what you've sent me this past year seem to involve tearing apart or advising against books she says she hasn't read, or bad-mouthing books not for what they are, but because the author didn't write the book Winterfox seems to think they should have written (both cardinal sins for any reviewer, that still get people fired in the print journalism world today; the third such sin - - not something I've seen any evidence of Winterfox doing, by the way - - being "knowing" what an author is thinking because of what their characters say, or pretending to be able to see their thoughts and so "know" their motives for, or intentions in, writing this or that).

I'll be interested to watch and see, when the Waterdeep book comes out, how much she tries to blame whatever she sees as "bad" in it on me, and assign what she sees as "good" about it to Elaine (who's a very good friend of mine, and whom I loved doing the book with), whose works she says she likes.

On the other hand, Winterfox has a way with words, and so would quite possibly make a good writer herself (and no, I'm not saying that so I can pounce on her writings and rend them, though as a professional editor YOU certainly have the skills and experience to very fairly do so, Lovely Hooded). Why don't you suggest that to her?

As attentive scribes know, I did just that last year, and she was NOT pleased. Ah, well. I hope these outtakes of Ed's help to answer your query, Laughing Wizard.

love to all,
THO

George, most of Ed's books feel rushed because they ARE rushed. For a variety of reasons and causes (and in the early days of the Realms it was primarily because TSR's games people and Books and Publicity/Marketing and Licensing people were all competing for Ed's time, in an frantic attempt to make sure Ed did NOT become a bottleneck to the unfolding presentation of the Realms), Ed often writes a novel draft in a month or so, and does rewrites in about half the time. Moreover, TSR and now WotC have developed a habit (widespread in the publishing industry, by the way - - and as an editor, I know whereof I speak) of requiring more wordcount in a contract than they ever intend to put into the final book. Ed remembers being asking, for Spellfire, why the contract said 150,000 words when the editor had told him "under 120,000" and being told if he didn't bring it in at just over 150,000, he wouldn't get paid - - so he did that and later, sure enough, it got trimmed to under 120,000. Couple this with Ed always wanting to tell a 'wider' story than will fit into any book, and you get abrupt, rushed, whirlwind endings as he frantically tries to tie everything up.

What Ed would REALLY like to do is abandon the "generate outline, get it editor-approved, then follow it strictly" system so beloved of Marketing departments anywhere (though it isn't really necessary: check out the current catalogue blurb for Ed and Elaine's Waterdeep book to see how specific contents info can be 'weaseled around' if the Marketing Department doesn't know specific contents) and get approval for just the central situation/conflict of the novel and some specific characters, and then sit down, start writing, and "let the characters tell the story."

We'll see if it ever happens.

In the meantime, Ed replies to Winterfox:

That's fine. As a longtime reader and librarian, I love the variety of fantasy books I can dip into, too. To have that, of course there have to be writers who aren't my or your cup of tea. Thank goodness, or there'd only ever be one writer in the world churning out books, and we'd ALL read that one gal or guy, and have to wait for them to die before the next writer would get a chance. I'd love to please everyone, but I know I can't, and I can live with that.

BTW, I forgot one more usage of "my lord" and "my lady" (which you'll see in the Waterdeep book unless editing wipes it away): nobles, as a matter of established etiquette, address individuals they're trying to flatter or impress in this way even when they KNOW they're not talking to someone with a title - - and so do ardent non-nobles trying to seduce or impress someone who's caught their eye. For example, a noble who jostles a maidservant and causes her to drop something, but who wants to soothe her or even bed her because she's stunningly beautiful, might well call her "my lady" as he apologizes and helps her gather up whatever fell.

Also, pre-editing, "my lady" and "my lord" meant such 'false' addresses, or mere courtesy addresses (a soldier calling a senior priest he's never met before "my lord" to be polite), whereas "my Lady" and "my Lord" meant the speaker was addressing either their mate or someone who they've sworn fealty to.

So saith Ed.

Who's now working on his 174th book, I believe...

love to all,
THO

*************************************************************************************

January 10, 2005: Kentinal, Ed makes reply to your December followup query: "Can a Chosen achieve a final death as long as their deity provides a divine spark?"

I'd say no, not if their deity doesn't WANT to them to die. However, an unwilling, insane, or turned-against-the-deity Chosen makes no sense as a continuing being unless the deity wants to torment them, either as punishment or as an example to others. (I'm speaking here of Chosen like those of Mystra, who hold a part of the deity's power within themselves, not the majority of other "Chosen," who are lesser champions given temporary powers by the deity.) Note that Mystra's Chosen have a degree of independence, and CAN choose to suicide. She can bring them back, of course, but not with the powers they held before; they'll be mere puppets, with mere echoes of their former powers. Chosen of Mystra who choose to defy her but not suicide CAN continue to exist; she can deny them her guidance and aid, and sever them from the company of their fellow Chosen, but not slay them outright, unless she wants to diminish her own divine power permanently. She can, of course, send or manipulate other creatures into slaying them, in which case the divine power they hold will find its gradual way back to her and not be lost to her.

This brings up fascinating character possibilities: the being 'cursed' never to die, who desperately wants to and tries to, only to be brought back again and again. Elric and Jack of Shadows (not to mention Terry Pratchett's Death, as depicted in certain of the Discworld novels) are examples of what sort of being such 'trapped' or 'doomed to repeat' characters might become, and the subject is something I intend to explore in future projects, both inside and outside the Realms.

So saith Ed.

Hmm, now, that last sentence of his is interesting indeed...

love to all,
THO

*************************************************************************************

January 10, 2005: Ah, Wooly dearest, you've hit on it.

Ed's reply does indeed "imply that once a being becomes a Chosen, Mystra can't reclaim from that person her own essence." You point out that "that's exactly what is described as having happened to Sammaster: thru Azuth, Mystra's essence was removed from Sammaster."

EXACTLY. Sammaster's silver fire was taken through the actions of Azuth, another deity.

Mystra can forcibly wrest her divine essence (the silver fire) directly from a mortal, but in doing so loses it forever, weakening herself (it does not 'find its way back to her' in the normal way, but is GONE). So she won't do it.

That doesn't stop Azuth, working with her, from doing it (she'd probably fight any other deity trying it on a mortal located on Toril, and win by using the Weave against them).

As you've probably guessed, we Knights discussed this very matter with Ed.

Your cozily, snuggly helpful,
THO

*************************************************************************************

January 11, 2005 THO answered: Yes, simontrinity, to answer your around-Yuletide query:

Dove, Storm, Elminster and many other Harpers did indeed manipulate the Knights of Myth Drannor into doing many things, down the years.

And, yes, we often did object to being 'used' (that's human nature, and most of us are fairly human, most of the time ).

However, most of the senior Harpers are very clever at making us WANT to do this or that, and so not care overly much when we discover (IF we discover: some of them were and are VERY subtle) we've been steered into doing this or that. The really, really slick Harpers build in personal rewards for us whenever they can (challenges as well as the sort of goodies that delight Torm [coins] and Jhessail [spell scrolls]), so we REALLY don't care.

And then there's Elminster, who often just shoved us into doing things because he could, or felt like it... but also often saved our behinds, kissed and cuddled us when we were feeling down or deprived, and greased our paths through difficult situations (from providing bail and jailbreaks to facing down foes who'd caught us good and proper). In short, we owed him so much that we could be angry, but we didn't really dare complain... to avoid feeling shame, not just because he could have blasted us from here to the next multiverse at will.

Harpers in general see it as good policy to make folk think well of the Harpers, and see the benefits of working with the Harpers, so even when manipulations are uncovered, people will play along anyway, for the common good or through their own sense of responsibility if not for love (somewhat as many of us pay our full share of taxes even while we grumble about this or that politician or political decision).

That about covers it, I think.

love to all,
THO

*************************************************************************************

January 11, 2005: Hello, all. Ed replies (with assistance!) to Jerryd and Ulrik about the War Wizards of Cormyr:

Now, Jerry, none of that beating the straw man stuff. You take my words and extend them into your own conclusion, thus:

"So, in short, the organization of the War Wizards is that Vangerdahast is in charge normally, Laspeera is in charge when Vangey's not around, and other than that there's no organization at all - it's just a bunch of wizards doing what they're told?"

That's NOT what I said. All the words after "not around" are your addition entirely. You're assuming wizards (WIZARDS, Jerry!) are timorous or even half-witted robot-like fodder, who can do nothing they haven't explicitly been told to do. More than that: you're assuming War Wizards of Cormyr, a subset of wizards who've given up the traditional fierce (in some individuals, paranoid) independence of those who work with the Art in order to serve a country in an organization where they will have to take orders, will do nothing (or can't perform) without a strict hierarchy. You obviously don't think much of their individual competence, despite saying they "may be highly competent."

However, I didn't say they lacked a hierarchy.

I said that (with the exceptions of Vangey and now Caladnei, Laspeera, the Chair of the College of War Wizards now filled [sans titles!] by the four senior War Wizards Vangey appointed as his replacements, and the alarphons) War Wizards don't have FORMAL RANKS AND THEREFORE TITLES: in short, that they're not like modern real-world militaries or bureaucracies in formally pigeonholing every member of the organization.

Which in turn means that a Purple Dragon of such-and-such a rank, or a noble of Cormyr holding a particular title, can't determine if they "outrank" a specific War Wizard, and so can't give orders to that War Wizard on such a basis: an endless source of frustration very familiar to The Hooded One, the rest of my 'home campaign' players, and dozens of gamers who've played in my charity and RPGA events at GenCons down the years.

I specifically said (to quote from my own earlier post about the four old War Wizards now chairing the College: "They act as 'chairman' without having any official titles, just pay raises and everyone" [[by which I meant every War Wizard, of course]] "being firmly told where they now rank in the chain of command, and what authority they now wield.") that the War Wizards DO have an internal hierarchy that's very well understood (by War Wizards). They just don't have a military chain of command with set pay scales (War Wizards get merit increases awarded on a personal, confidential basis) and the sort of discipline that depends on "salute the uniform," wherein any (stranger) colonel wearing the right rank insignia can give orders to any sergeant or private he meets.

I agree that large organizations can't function without some sort of internal order. As for the size of the War Wizards, I'd put membership in the War Wizards, at its height, as less than six hundred (not counting on-probation trainees). Post-Death of the Dragon, with all the battle losses, it's probably a little more than half that (with a far higher proportion of on-probation trainees or "novices").

Now, to answer your specific point about Vangerdahast stamping out all tendencies among the War Wizards to form cliques, I gave his reason for doing so, but you dismissed it by saying the alarphons exist to root out the disloyal. Quite true: I was illustrating how Vangey's distrust of almost everyone except himself, and his cynical but shrewd opinion of organizations (gleaned through dealing with the Royal Court every day) led him to try to head off the formation of cliques: because he sees the self-serving ends it leads to (courtiers habitually conceal information from superiors to make themselves look good, and Vangey wants every War Wizard to feel that they can go straight to him, and "we're all in this together," both for morale reasons to avoid misinformation and concealing things). You raise the point that I showed in Elminster's Daughter that "such problems exist anyway," which seems to advance an argument akin to: if something can't accomplish goals perfectly all the time, that something should never be attempted. (Okay, if I buy that, then no military or government bureaucracy need ever exist: why prepare for any warfare, or to run any country? Imperfections will inevitably arise, so everyone involved is wasting their time, then, right?) If your goal here was to point out that Vangey was failing to stamp out disloyalty or independent thinking merely by shattering cliques, I quite agree. Of course he was failing; to try to deny human nature is like attacking the advancing tide on a beach with a flamethrower and declaring victory (before you get submerged). :}

I was trying to point out in Elminster's Daughter (among a lot of other things :}) that Vangerdahast tries to APPEAR all-powerful, and has accomplished much by reputation alone, but is very far from absolutely ruling Cormyr. Before the events of that novel he's the true ruler of Cormyr, yes, more than anyone, but even with its established laws and social order, no one person can truly make the Forest Kingdom just (and only) what he or she wants it to be.

You cite my chess-playing scene as a clear and unambiguous statement that Kurthryn outranks Huldyl. Quite true: for that specific guardian assignment they're engaged in when we see them, Kurthryn has been put "over" Huldyl by Vangey, despite Huldyl's great skill with magic. Various guardian assignments have been their primary duty for quite some time, in fact (as THO will attest: using those two guys was something of an in-joke for my original players' benefit, as the Knights have repeatedly run into these two War Wizards barring their ways as they've tried to snoop around Court and Palace, over the years) because they're both patient men, and Vangey's seen and exploited that, so he's put them together into a unit wherein Kurthryn outranks Huldyl.

I quite understand how Jim Lowder's text from Crusade would give the wrong impression. It's not worded how I would have said it, but arises from this: Vangey has told all of the royals (and verbally revised this, many times, over the years) an 'order of precedence' for the War Wizards "in case anything should happen to him" (which, at that point in Crusade, Azoun IV believes to be the case). All of the Royal Court, not just the Obarskyrs, knows that Laspeera is "Number 2" anyway. What Azoun has is a verbal list of the next five people (in descending order) THAT VANGERDAHAST WOULD WANT AS HEAD OF THE WAR WIZARDS (for the good of the realm, remember, not Azoun's personal convenience, so it's presented to the king as a fait accompli, so his "anointing" of someone will end up with the someone of Vangey's choice, even though Vangey's not on the scene to make that choice). In other words, Vangey did NOT tell Azoun "if I fall, go to Laspeera, but if she's already dead, then your best bet is XXXX." Instead, he gave a strict hierarchy AND ALLOWED AZOUN TO BELIEVE that the War Wizards themselves all know it, and merely keep it secret from outsiders.

This is true - - and untrue. They DO have a strict hierarchy, but only Vangey and Laspeera can clearly see it all, at any given time. Everyone else sees only parts of it, and knows their own 'rank' only for specific tasks, or in specific situations, or as it applies to particular fellow War Wizards.

Ulrik (and your own Uthgardt reply will appear fairly soon, sir!) makes the very good point that War Wizard operations as portrayed in published Realmslore must equal organization "not just on a large, strategic level, but on a small tactical level as well." True. However, I disagree with Ulrik on just how precise the War Wizards really are (by reputation and appearance, yes, in actual accomplishments, often no), and I disagree with his presuming that bureaucracy must be part of it.

This is where magic trumps real-world offices and secretaries: precise information can be passed on without stacks of memos outsiders can peek at. And the secret of much of the effectiveness and precision achieved by the War Wizards is information: they KNOW who lives where, who does what on a daily basis, where a particular creek or sewer drains to, and so on (because one War Wizard can quickly pass that lore to another who's on the spot).

Ulrik himself puts his finger on the reason for the War Wizards being as precise as they manage to be: "all that spying."

Let me now quote from the secret files of Garen Thal, Candlekeep's own expert on Cormyr:

The War Wizards have no outwardly-discernable hierarchy of command. There are simply Caladnei (their commander), Laspeera (her lieutenant) and the War Wizards. The internal investigators of the War Wizards, alarphons hold the only formal rank within the war wizards. This permits them to ask questions and engage in magical interrogation of their own number in order to ferret out treachery and learn whether other members of the brotherhood have not been exactly forthcoming with information important to the protection of the realm, either for treachery or their own stupidity.

This is not to say that the War Wizards do not have their own superiors or that they answer to no one. On the contrary, nearly each War Wizard has at least two or three comrades (in addition to Caladnei or Laspeera) that are senior to themselves in authority, able to issue commands, demand information and reports, or change assignments. Such authority shifts constantly for all but the most senior and trusted War Wizards--though less so than it formerly did under Vangerdahast--with the Mage Royal personally informing War Wizards that their roles had changed, or even been reversed. Each War Wizard has only a single superior to which he must report at any given time (again, discounting Caladnei or Laspeera), so information has a path, however convoluted, to the Royal Magician's ears. War Wizards are also provided with a single senior War Wizard to whom they must report should their current "commander" go missing or fall in battle; should this alternative superior not be available, report of this lack is made directly to Caladnei.
...

This leaves us with the uncertainty necessary to keep the War Wizards a more secure organization, with an ever-shifting, magnets-and-iron-filings approach to authority and commanders. Because true authority is passing (except among ranked or titled War Wizards), the War Wizards, for the sake of both altruism and sheer common sense, use their authority to better the realm, the War Wizards, and one another (in that order), rather than abusing it against a comrade who might become the authority tenday next. Of course, exceptions do occur, and it is those exceptions--greedy War Wizards turning rebellious in the mode of Luthax, or abusing an "inferior" to create a future enemy of the Realm--that make the institutionalization of rank a bad idea in the first place.

(end quotation, and my thanks to Garen Thal for those timely words). As usually Garen's hit all the nails squarely on all the heads.

I'm not trying to make you think the War Wizards are disorganized, Jerry, I'm trying to stop you writing up a chain of command as you did for the Purple Dragons. It was and is appropriate for Cormyr's military, but just doesn't fit the War Wizards - - as can be seen by a careful reading of Realmslore published to date.

To let slip a little internal information for once: it was agreed between Books and Games when Jeff and I were writing Cormyr: A Novel, and reaffirmed (with different Books and Games personnel) when Troy and I were doing Death of the Dragon, that for maximum freedom in fiction writing and game design (and yes, for individual Dungeon Masters, too) that the War Wizards were going to stay as mysterious as possible - - just as they are to Cormyreans. We'll give endless internal glimpses, but we would NOT do, for instance, "a War Wizard novel."

To shift it back to a real-world analogy one more time: if you go ahead and clearly outline a hierarchy of invented rank-titles for the War Wizards (and create these "administrative and advisory boards" you speak of), it would be very much as if you, as a writer in the West during the Cold War, detailed the command structure of the KGB in print. I'm not now speaking of sinister repercussions for you, I mean that in doing so you would rob the KGB of much of their allure, capacity to awaken fear, and mystery (through being so much of 'the unknown' and so little specified, counted, and laid bare for all to see).

It's a very human need to delineate, nail down details, ferret out the truth, quantify, and so understand. I sympathize.

Yet in this case, I can't agree.

To put things another way: I'm sure if I started a thread here at Candlekeep entitled "Ed Greenwood Gives Plot Summaries Of All Realms Novels WotC Will Publish For The Next Ten Years" A LOT of scribes would click on it excitedly, but if I actually posted what the title implied, I'd be largely ruining their enjoyment of that decade-worth of books. Part of the fun is NOT knowing everything. Right?

So saith Ed.

Boy, could I tell War Wizard stories! I won't, mind you, unless Ed gives the okay, because some of them are... shocking. Yes, that's the word: shocking. Let me just drop one hint: FiXXXXXXno no I can't. Ed will slay me. Though, to think again, that might be fun...

love to all,
THO

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January 12, 2005: Hello, all. Herewith, Ed of the Greenwood responds to Ty.

A note re. Paul's e-missive on FR5: Ed didn't 'rescue' any characters, as far as I recall. Khelben rescuing Laeral was Steven Schend's idea (and execution, too). I'll ask Ed for confirmation on this.

Ty, you'll see why I handed this straight to Ed rather than trying to frame a reply of my own, when you read what follows:

Ty, I've thus far kept the Knights largely away from contact with the priesthood of Tyr. Most adventurers, being freewheeling types whose true alignments tend to be chaotic good or chaotic selfish no matter what they officially are, are going to be less than comfortable in confrontations with clergy having to do with law, order, and justice - - and I've had a personal problem with the lack of full coverage of the formal churches of Faerunian deities (creeds, covert aims and professed doctrine, daily doings of priests, and so on) that's especially acute when it comes to gods whose portfolios might lead their followers into exercising a large amount of daily peactime influence over others.

In short, I wanted the role of Tyr's clergy better defined before I used them much in play. It's been easy to avoid featuring Tyr overmuch because one can bring in priests of Helm and Torm to accomplish similar needs in adventures, and because I've been able from the outset to sweep the Knights up into neck-deep involvement in local politics, struggles between various power groups, and realm-versus-realm intrigue, without having to focus overmuch on any faith not personally represented by one of the PC Knights.

As I see it, Tyr is a god of justice rather than law, and so his clergy have an ongoing duty to bring about justice, both by working to continually improve the secular laws of various places in the Realms (even when faced by rulers and enforcers who manifestly don't want such "help"), and by bringing justice to bear on individuals whom the law doesn't touch (either because they've been granted immunity to legal punishment, or because the laws as drafted don't apply to their sly activities, even though such activities would clearly be judged "wrong" by their fellow citizens). Criminals have always been 'one step ahead of the law,' and laws are always drafted by those in power to benefit themselves and their usual activities (in other words, to support the status quo in which they are 'on top'). Just as in our real world, the laws in most parts of the Realms give preferential status to royalty or rulers over commoners, nobility over commoners, and citizens over outlanders (foreigners) or slaves or non-humans. For example, if I, Thorog the Orc, march up to a Black Robe in Waterdeep and claim that 'yonder beautiful Waterdhavian woman broke her bargain with me to let me bed her if she first seduced Merchant X to buy my wagon of boar entrails, if I then gave her three-quarters of what he paid, which I've done, only now she spurns me and denies ever agreeing to such terms' I'm going to get treated differently than if I am instead Junstal Manthar, young and handsome Waterdhavian noble, making precisely the same claim.

There will always be laws that are clearly unfair ("unjust," if you will), or that a being from another land (even a Tyrran hailing from another land) will disagree with. (I am reminded of a post currently making the rounds on the Internet that purports to be a supporter's letter to President Bush, that respectfully asks for his guidance in beheading or stoning to death or hand-severing various neighbours, in strict obedience to Leviticus and other Biblical writings, for wearing their hair incorrectly and various other offenses that will strike most modern readers as minor or nonsensical.)

This brings us to the central problem of Tyr's faith: deciding what is "just." What Tyr decides, of course, but unless the god is going to act as an instantly-available technical support line to his every priest and lay worshipper (which he obviously, from published Realmslore, doesn't), inevitably the priests must determine what is just.

I'm sure some priests are personally proud and confident enough to do just that, whereas others will wrestle with the questions of "If this particular town or realm has a legal code that implies Deed X is legitimate or even favoured, am I right in decreeing that Deed X is evil, and I should act against those who do such deeds?"

In other words, I see that there must and will be continual disagreements within the church of Tyr as to how to act. The motivation is that the greatest good is promoted through order, adherence to order, and support of order (the Lawful Good alignment of Tyr himself), but order is not the same as law or even enforcement. That some adherents of Tyr have indulged in force and in trials of beings they deem to have acted unjustly is clear from published Realmslore (the very existence of my term "Grimjaws").

TSR and now WotC have been clearly uncomfortable, down the years, dealing with such religious issues in definitive game terms (novels can explore such issues for specific characters, times, and places, but game rulebooks are necessarily wider in scope and application [and I'm sure it's often been a simple matter of "this planned product will have lower sales than if we instead used this printing time and design costs to do something else, and the something else will potentially anger fewer fans and retailers, too"]), and the result has been a great amount of silence and lack of coverage of such matters. In such products as PRAYERS FROM THE FAITHFUL I've been able to ladle out a few details of doctrine as I "dance around" the vital core topics of what various churches do (and any longtime 1st Edition D&D gamer will remember the hunger expressed for 'hard stuff' so that they could bring clerics to life as something more than "the party's fighter who can heal you if you're nice to him and what he says his god wants").

THO has transmitted to me your own very eloquent summation of this in a thread on Tyr, wherein you swiftly outlined the difference between lawful good and lawful neutral over the matter of the urchin stealing bread. I agree with your conclusion that the clergy of Tyr would see themselves as qualified to make and enact judgement on a person they view as an offender. Otherwise, why BE priests of Tyr?

I also agree with the argument you unfolded from that: evil intent plays a part in determining if a crime has been committed and justice must therefore be served by some sort of action (usually meting out punishment) on the Tyrran's part. The published D&D game, throughout three official editions and several additional iterations, now, has established that paladins don't automatically attack any creature they see whom they know or believe to be evil (in alignment). As you say, evil ACTS are to be punished, not evil natures or evil private inner thoughts never acted upon (if I daydream of making love to a beautiful woman I see in the street who is clearly wearing a wedding ring, have I committed an evil act if I immediately dismiss such thoughts angrily, never voicing or acting on them?).

In that thread, Lashan then brought up the valid point of the legal and social standing of a cleric in a given locale: will a priest be seen as having the RIGHT to "dispense justice"? As a DM running the Realms, I want something official published that tells me if a Tyrran (or any other priest or paladin) would be allowed to act against injustice in, say, the streets of Waterdeep, a tavern in Suzail, or a brothel (excuse me, festhall) somewhere in Sembia. I'd like to be able to read and consult such guidance before I made a PC conflict with priests important in play.

Maglubiyet then eloquently echoed the difference between law and justice and the problems this hands a servant of Tyr, and the hammer of Moradin widened this argument again to ask "Who is right, and who is wrong?"

All of these unsolved arguments (and the part of me that as a DM and designer wants to leave PCs and DMs maximum freedom in play, so "their" Realms doesn't start to too closely mirror real-life and cease to be enjoyable ["Geez! I dare not draw my sword and hack that dragon as he snatches the princess, because he'll sue me! And win!!"]) have led me to feature Tyrrans in the Knights' experience only within the context of senior priests in a large temple of Tyr who spent their days in prayer and in examining the laws of various locales around the Realms with an eye to how these could be improved - - which of course brought about endless debates among these priests about specific changes and desired end results, and over the matter of whether or not the Church of Tyr should try to make laws everywhere more or less identical, or whether local authority and idiosyncrasies ("It is unlawful to marry one's sister after sundown, but not before, or on days when there has been rain") should be respected.