Session Voices
A sliding scale of creative license on the same session — from the Scholar's definitive record through the Chronicler's dramatization to the Bard's literary interpretation.
High creative license — a literary author who interprets and enriches the source material. Rich sensory detail, full emotional interiority, and dialogue that captures spirit over transcript.
Medium creative license — dramatizes what’s there without inventing. Think BBC documentary narrator: informative, well-paced, engaging, but never editorializing.
Low creative license — reports what happened with no interpretation or embellishment. If it wasn’t observable in the transcript, it doesn’t appear. The definitive record.
"The Voice"
Lightning, steel, and dragon fire bring a baron to his knees.
Rich atmosphere, full emotional interiority
A dragon's claws crush a baron's throat, and war comes to the Stolen Lands.
Balanced dramatization, behavioral inference
A kingdom wages war, a baron falls, and the price of victory becomes terrifyingly clear.
Short, declarative, observable facts only
"Quill Reacts"
"What a glorious symphony of destruction! Four armies clashing in the swamp, a dragon queen tearing through berserkers, and lightning reducing a court jester to ash before he could so much as honk his nose—this is the stuff of legends that will echo through tavern halls for generations!"
"Ah, what delicious carnage! A field battle decided by lightning and kobold spears, a baroness brought low by grief for a dog, and a baron executed in his own throne room while his mistress slips away like smoke through fingers. This Quintessa intrigues me—illusionists who escape always return at the worst possible moment."
"Now THIS is the sort of conquest that makes ballads! A draconic queen displaying her enemy's corpse while lightning and fire consume all who oppose her—though I confess some worry about that illusionist who slipped away. In my experience, enemies who escape through cleverness rather than cowardice always return at the most dramatically inconvenient moment."
A Kingdom Prepares for War
War Council
The Cost of Progress
The Battle of Hook Tongue
The Field of Slaughter
The Hammer Falls
The Baroness Speaks
The Baroness's Truth
The Scorned Wife's Confession
Depths Beneath the Keep
The Passage of Ooze and Ash
Through Tar and Chalk
Death of Baron Drelev
The Baron's End
The Baron's Last Stand
Classification Divergence
Full Narratives
Information had leaked after all.
As Vesmer's forces arrayed themselves in the marshy expanse of Hook Tongue Slough, enemy cavalry and berserkers rounded the bend. Baron Drelev's scouts must have caught wind of the muster at Batu, or perhaps simple paranoia had prompted him to sally forth rather than wait for siege lines to form. Either way, the element of surprise evaporated as both armies scrambled into battle formation.
The field erupted into coordinated chaos.
Kai's engineering corps opened with bombardment—indirect fire that arced over the swampland to crash into enemy cavalry positions. The shells struck true despite the distance, though the impact proved lighter than hoped. More importantly, Kai unleashed She Who Values Life. The massive Eidolon materialized in her battle form and enveloped the Iruxi Defenders in a cocoon of protective energy, shimmering with power that would prove invaluable in the exchanges to come.
The enemy struck back immediately. Olfan Berserkers surged forward with terrible purpose while their commander—a fierce woman whose features twisted with rage—let out a horrific scream that shook the resolve of Vesmer's forces. Terror washed through the ranks, a supernatural dread that made hands tremble and hearts quicken. Even the cavalry's horses shied from that sound.
But Vesmer's troops held.
Ulden's voice boomed across the battlefield, challenging the enemy with insults designed to draw their attention. His taunts were surgical—targeting specific commanders, specific units, goading them toward the dwarven fortress that stood unshakeable at the center of Vesmer's line.
"Try harder next time," he called. "Pathetic."
The Magma Vox—kobold warriors whose reputation for desperate courage exceeded their actual stature—pressed forward through muck and rain. Their crossbow barrage catching the Tiger Lord Warband from the flank.
Then Zephyr entered the battle properly.
The kineticist had been biding her time, supercharging her power while mounted with the cavalry. Now she disconnected from her unit and strode forward, positioning herself with geometric precision. Ball lightning crackled into existence around her—eight targets within sixty feet, no cover, no mercy.
Lightning arced.
The Sotoven retinue—elite knights in House Sertova's colors—died first. The bolt struck their commander and his mounted warriors simultaneously, a branching discharge that left smoking corpses in the saddle. The Tiger Lord infantry caught the next strike, their flesh charring as electricity found the path of least resistance through their formation.
All the while, Nivna fought with savage efficiency. She launched herself at the Tiger Lord Warband with a draconic frenzy, her combat grip pinning warriors in place while her teeth found throats. Between dragon and kobold, the warband broke. Their commander—Baroness Pavetta—entered a blind berserker rage after watching the slaughter of her forces and the death of her hound.
Nivna recognized the value of a living hostage.
The draconic ruler's attacks shifted, pulling her strikes just enough to avoid lethal damage. When Pavetta finally fell, it was to unconsciousness rather than death. A baroness captured rather than killed—leverage for the negotiations to come.
As the surviving enemy forces retreated toward the keep and Vesmer's troops regrouped, the full accounting emerged. One enemy army destroyed. Multiple commanders killed or captured. By any measure, a decisive victory.
But amid the corpses lay Sotoven knights. Elite cavalry bearing House Sertova's colors—the ruling house of the former kingdom of Isia, one of the most powerful forces in Brevoy. These weren't mere mercenaries. They were a trip-line force, a deliberate message that Baron Drelev enjoyed the protection of his patron house.
And the Crownsguard had just killed them all.
The Crownsguard prepared to descend into Fort Drelev one final time.
The Hook Tongue Slough offered no shelter, only mud and rain and the certain knowledge that their enemies had found them. Olfan Berserkers rounded the bend where swampland met solid ground, Tiger Lord cavalry close behind, and behind them—a woman whose voice cut through the storm like a blade.
Her war cry was something ancient and terrible. Those who heard it felt fear root in their hearts. Even the Vesmer cavalry's horses reared and panicked.
Kai's engineering corps responded first. She Who Values Life manifested on the battlefield, and the massive eidolon enveloped the Iruxi Defenders in a cocoon of protective energy.
Then Kai's artillery spoke. The engineering corps unleashed bombardment fire in high arcs, raining destruction on enemy cavalry that had no time to scatter.
The Sotoven retinue—House Sertova's own knights, their banners marking them as something more than mercenaries—charged toward Kai's position. But Kai had phased out, directing the battle while incorporeal.
Zephyr recognized the moment for what it was. She disconnected from her cavalry, striding forward to bring multiple enemy formations into range. Electricity crackled across her skin as she built her power.
"All right, it's time to go nuclear," someone observed.
Ball lightning erupted from Zephyr's outstretched hands. The attack split into eight separate strikes, each one seeking a different target with predatory precision. The Sotoven retinue caught fire—their commander, their troops, all of them burning. The Tiger Lord warband took the brunt of the assault, warriors falling in charred rows.
"Holy cows. Zephyr is a monster in fights like this," someone noted.
Ulden anchored the center with the Iruxi Defenders, his booming voice carrying across the battlefield. "You're gonna hear Ulden's booming voice across the battlefield to come and try and hit him harder. Because they're all weak. Their shoddy made weapons will break before the pinnacle of dwarven engineering."
The Tiger Lords went berserk. They threw themselves at the defensive line with suicidal fury.
Nivna led the Magma Vox forward through the muck, the kobolds moving with desperate purpose. She threw herself into the Tiger Lord formation with draconic fury.
The warband broke. Not from death alone, but from the sight of their commander—a woman in noble armor—flying into a berserk state over something personal. Nivna saw opportunity in the noblewoman's bearing. A precise blow to the head. The baroness crumpled unconscious.
Then came the boulders. Hill giants hurled stones from concealment. But something was wrong with what Nivna saw—the giants shimmered, their positions uncertain. She shook off the attempted hallucination with raw willpower, seeing through the deception.
"If you think this will save you, little Umgis," Ulden called after them.
But the field was won. One army segment lost from the Magma Vox kobolds—minor casualties. Everything else: bruises, nothing more.
The problem revealed itself in the aftermath. Among the dead Sotoven cavalry lay knights whose heraldry marked them as more than mercenaries. House Sertova's own forces.
"House Sertova is not going to be happy about that," Zephyr noted.
Nivna's response came swift: "What do you mean? More urgency. I don't know who this person is that's dead. Nor their legions. But they turned against us and so their fate was sealed."
The siege could begin. The war with House Sertova already had.
The armies took their positions as enemy forces emerged from concealment. Kai commanded the Engineering Corps from a forward position, their artillery pieces sighted on the approaching enemy. Zephyr led the cavalry, already crackling with stored electrical charge. Ulden stood with the Iruxi Defenders, shield raised, his voice booming across the battlefield. Nivna directed the Magma Vox kobolds, who moved with desperate urgency through the rain and muck.
The battlefield was swampland—treacherous footing, scattered tar pits, limited lines of sight. Fort Drelev's forces had the advantage of knowing the terrain.
Enemy berserkers pushed forward with all their momentum. Their commander let out a horrific scream that rolled across the water. Fear took hold. The cavalry's horses shied and stamped. Even the disciplined troops felt it—a primal dread that weakened knees and slowed reactions.
Kai's eidolon manifested first. She Who Values Life took form, towering over the defenders, and wrapped them in protective energy. Then the Engineering Corps opened fire—indirect bombardment arcing over the ridge to crash among enemy cavalry. The shells struck true. Enemy riders scattered, their formation breaking.
The Sotoven knights charged in response. Their horses splashed through the shallow water, lances leveled at the Engineering Corps. Kai stood incorporeal, phased out of reality, untouchable. The charge swept past where they should have been and struck nothing.
Zephyr cast guidance on Nivna, then turned her bow on the enemy retinue. Three arrows in rapid succession.
Nivna's Magma Vox surged forward into melee range with the Tiger Lord warband. Crossbow bolts flew from their flanks, catching the warband in a deadly crossfire.
Artillery answered. Hill giants on the ridge began hurling boulders. The rocks arced high, then crashed down among the packed formations. Troops scattered. The ground shook with each impact.
Ulden's voice cut across the chaos. "Come and try and hit me harder, you weak-armed children! Your shoddy-made weapons will break before the pinnacle of dwarven engineering!" His taunts drew attention exactly as intended. When enemies approached, the Iruxi Defenders' tridents found flesh with brutal precision.
The Tiger Lords went berserk. They threw themselves at the defensive line with suicidal fury. The Iruxi Defenders took the brunt. So did Nivna and the Magma Vox. The kobolds were light infantry. They died quickly when caught in melee with frenzied warriors.
Kai shifted eidolons. His Royal Hotness emerged, wreathed in flame. A wall of fire erupted across the battlefield, engulfing the Sotoven retinue and their commander. The cavalry burned.
Then Zephyr moved.
She strode thirty feet forward, disconnecting from her cavalry to position herself precisely. Ball lightning manifested—eight targets marked. The Sotoven retinue. Their commander. The Tiger Lord infantry. Another commander. The discharge came in sequence: first the retinue, then on to their leaders, then the infantry formation. Lightning arced across metal armor and wet ground. The first target exploded, armor blackening and splitting.
Her cavalry followed up with short bow volleys. The tempest burst caught both the retinue and their leader.
Nivna saw the Tiger Lord warband commander—Pavetta, whose identity would be learned later—charging forward in a blind rage. Something about a dead pet. The tactical situation was clear: this woman had value as a hostage. Nivna's claws raked across her, pulling strikes deliberately. Then a careful blow to the head. The commander dropped.
More boulders rained down. The hill giants remained out of direct engagement range. A horn sounded from Fort Drelev. The giants picked up their machinery and withdrew at a run. The enemy was retreating in good order, preserving what forces remained.
The battlefield fell quiet. Bodies floated in the shallow water. Smoke rose from burning cavalry. The Magma Vox had lost one segment—perhaps thirty kobolds dead. Everything else was minor injuries.
Vesmer had won decisively. Multiple enemy commanders dead or captured. One full enemy army destroyed. The path to Fort Drelev lay open.
But there was a problem.
Among the dead Sotoven knights lay heraldry that no one from Fort Drelev should have been wearing. These weren't local troops. They were from Brevoy proper. From one of the great houses.
Zephyr identified them first. "House Sertova," she said quietly. "Those were House Sertova knights."
The political reality settled like cold water. Drelev wasn't just some independent barony. It was a client state. And they'd just killed the garrison that proved it.
"They turned against us. Their fate was sealed."
"You don't understand," Zephyr said. "These knights were a trip-line. A warning system. By killing them, we've just declared war on House Sertova. On all of Isia."
"Then we'd better finish what we started," Nivna replied. "We'll deal with the political consequences after the Baron is dead."
The cavalry and engineers moved forward to establish siege positions around Fort Drelev's incomplete western wall. The keep awaited. And somewhere inside, Baron Hannis Drelev was learning that his defenses had failed.
The Baroness sat bound and bitter, stripped of her royal finery and dressed in whatever cloth the kobolds had found suitable for a prisoner. Nivna loomed over her, purple dust still clinging to her scales from the battlefield, her voice carrying the weight of casual violence.
"Tell us everything you know."
Pavetta's laugh came sharp and mirthless. "Everything I know? I know you're a monster. I know you kick puppies—you tore up my jaw, killed her in the mud out there." Her voice cracked on the last words, genuine grief bleeding through aristocratic composure. "And yes, I'm sorry to say it, but you did kill a puppy."
Ulden shifted his weight, the dwarf's expression unreadable behind his beard. "That's too bad."
"Bad pet owner, honestly," Nivna observed, her tone suggesting she found the entire situation merely inconvenient. "Bringing a hound into a battlefield. What did you expect?"
The Baroness's composure fractured further, bitterness spilling out like poison. "I expected to be anything other than the uncultured brute my husband allied himself with. Tiger Lords. Smelly Vikings, more like—dead men now, for all they accomplished."
"Dead men indeed." Nivna leaned closer, and the movement was predatory in its precision. "Tell me about your husband. We killed your mage, a couple of your generals. What guard does he have left in that keep?"
Pavetta's smile turned cruel. "Maybe not as impregnable as we thought, but we have ways of compensating. As for the man himself..." Her voice dripped venom. "Well, I'm sure his strumpet of a mistress will have no shortage of bardic tricks. Probably the same sort she used to seduce him."
"Ah." Understanding flickered in Nivna's eyes. "You're the old maid then. Things aren't exactly good between you and the Baron."
"I happen to be a member of the nobility," Pavetta snapped, her pride reasserting itself even in captivity. "Whatever hold that woman has over him—tricks, flattery, I don't know what—I know that I stand head and shoulders above her."
Nivna's response came flat and final. "Your husband's going to die today. Question is, what are you going to do after? I always need puppets to run these places."
The Baroness stared at them both, comprehension dawning alongside fresh outrage. "Really? You think just because you and your barbaric cohorts can come in and sack an ill-defended barony like this, that gives you a legitimate claim to Drelev?"
"Oh, my dear Baroness," Ulden's smile showed teeth. "I sure hope so. Because otherwise your usefulness is very short-lived, and my axe always thirsts."
Nivna's words came quieter, but somehow more terrible for their simplicity. "These are the Stolen Lands. There is no right. Only what you can claim with your claws."
Zephyr had been silent until now, but her voice carried the careful precision of someone who had studied far more than blade work. "The Staff clan? The ruling House of Bravo?"
Zephyr's expression shifted, calculation replacing curiosity. "House Sertova. In the days before Coral the Conqueror unified the kingdoms of Isia and Rossland, House Sertova was the ruling family of Isia—a pirate kingdom, basically."
"What we've done," Zephyr said slowly, "fighting those Sotoven knights—that's an act of war against Isia. Against House Sertova."
"They struck first. This is a defensive war and an opportunistic conquest," Nivna said, and her voice carried absolute certainty. "Once we have their lands—or this fort—in hand, they can negotiate with us."
"If you think we can handle them, then by all means," Zephyr said.
"Since the foundation of Vesmer, we've been assailed by challenges. Undead, giants, war. It's nothing new."
"Then let's give them hell."
Nivna's voice dropped into something that might have been philosophy or might have been threat. "Besides, it's the Hawk's principles. Once you decide to kill someone, you've got to follow through."
Pavetta watched them prepare to leave, and something in her expression suggested she knew exactly how little her survival mattered to these creatures who spoke of kingdoms and conquest like merchants discussing inventory. The Stolen Lands answered to strength alone, and she had none left to offer.
The field was theirs, the siege lines forming, but one question demanded immediate answer. Pavetta, Baron Drelev's wife, woke in chains to find a dragon looming over her.
"The baron's wife. Tell us everything you know," Nivna commanded.
The baroness proved defiant despite her circumstances. "Everything I know? I know you're a monster. I know that you kick puppies." Her voice cracked with genuine grief. "And yes, I am sorry to say, you killed a puppy. You tore up my jaw."
"That's too bad," Ulden muttered.
"Bad pet owner, honestly," Nivna observed.
But Pavetta's personal grief quickly gave way to aristocratic disdain. "I had to be anything other than the uncultured brute that sees—axemen that my husband is allied himself with. Tiger Lords. Smelly Vikings, more like."
Nivna cut through the insults. "The dead men. They did seem to lack armor. Tiger Lords, huh? Amiri will be interested in that. But I don't care about them. Tell me about your husband."
The baroness's answer came wrapped in bitter spite. "Maybe not as impregnable as we thought it was. As for the man himself, well, I'm sure his strumpet of a mistress will have no shortage of bardic tricks. Probably the same sort that she used to seduce him."
"Oh, the old—you're the old maid then. I take it things aren't exactly good between you and the husband, Baroness?"
"Well, I happen to be a member of the nobility. Whatever that trollop thinks she can do just because she waves her charms around. I know that I stand head and shoulders above her."
Nivna laid out the future with draconic certainty. "Your husband's going to die today. Question is, what are you going to do after. I always need puppets to run these places."
"Really? You think just because you and your barbaric cohorts can come in and sack an ill defended barony like this, that gives you a legitimate claim to Jallev?"
Ulden's response carried the weight of immediate threat. "Oh, my dear Baroness, I sure hope so. Because otherwise your usefulness is very short lived. And my axe always thirsts."
Nivna's philosophy was simpler still: "These are the Stolen Lands. There is no right. Only what you can claim with your claws."
Zephyr explained the gravity of their situation. "House Sertova is the ruling house of Bravo. Before Choral the Conqueror unified the region, they'd been pirate kings. Drelev has a much more formal, signed, in ink agreement of clientage to House Staff, which would align it with the former kingdom of Isia. What you have done in attacking Drelev is an act of war against Isia."
"I hope you all know that if we go through with this, we're getting in a much bigger war than we bargained for."
"They struck first. This is a defensive war and an opportunistic conquering." Nivna's certainty was absolute. "Since the foundation of Vesmer, we've been assailed by challenges. Undead, giants, war. It's nothing new."
"Besides, it's the Hawk's principles. Once you decide to kill someone, you gotta follow through."
"Head out," Nivna commanded.
War was the path forward. Into the keep they would go, and by nightfall, Fort Drelev would have a new master.
The prisoner awoke to find herself disarmed, stripped of her royal garments, bound in ropes. Baroness Pavetta stared up at the draconic face of Vesmer's queen with undisguised hatred.
"Tell us everything you know," Nivna said.
Pavetta's laugh was bitter. "Everything I know? I know you're a monster. I know you kick puppies—you tore up my jaw, killed my beloved pet." Her eyes found Ulden. "How could you?"
"Battlefield casualty," Ulden replied without sympathy. "She really wanted that puppy to die, bringing it to war."
"Bad pet owner, honestly," Nivna agreed.
The interrogation began in earnest. Nivna loomed over the bound noblewoman. "Forget your dog. Tell us about your husband. We killed your mage, a couple of your generals. What guard does he have left?"
Pavetta's expression shifted—hatred mixing with something more complex. Contempt, perhaps. Or satisfaction.
"The keep isn't as impregnable as we thought it was, clearly. As for the man himself, I'm sure his strumpet of a mistress will have no shortage of bardic tricks. Probably the same sort she used to seduce him in the first place."
"The old maid, then," Nivna observed. "Things aren't exactly good between you and the husband, Baron Drelev."
Something broke in Pavetta's composure. "I happen to be a member of the nobility. Whatever that trollop thinks she can do just because she waves her Pitaxian charms around—I know I stand head and shoulders above her."
"Your husband's going to die today," Nivna said flatly. "Question is, what are you going to do after? I always need puppets to run these places."
Pavetta stared at them both. "Really? You think just because you and your barbaric court can come in and sack an ill-defended barony like this, that gives you a legitimate claim to Drelev?"
"My dear Baroness," Ulden said with exaggerated patience, "I sure hope so. Because otherwise your usefulness is very short lived, and my axe always thirsts."
"These are the Stolen Lands," Nivna added. "There is no right. Only what you can claim with your claws."
"Here's the problem," Zephyr explained quietly. "Vesmer has kind of an informal understanding with Rossland via the city of Westlove and the Aldori Sword Lords. Drelev, it seems, has a much more formal, signed, in ink agreement of clientage to House Staff, which would align it with the former kingdom of Isia. What you have done in attacking Drelev, and in particular fighting the trip-line force of Sotoven knights, is an act of war against Isia."
"They struck first. This is a defensive war and an opportunistic conquering. Once we have their lands or this fort in hand, they can negotiate with us."
"If you think we can handle them, then by all means," Zephyr conceded.
"Since the foundation of Vesmer, we've been assailed by challenges. Undead, giants, war. It's nothing new."
The decision made, they stripped Pavetta of her valuable equipment. She'd be kept as insurance, a puppet if negotiations required one, leverage if they didn't.
It was time to end Baron Drelev's reign.
"Key Moments"
Chapter 2
Zephyr, the storm made flesh, disconnects from her cavalry and positions herself with cold precision before unleashing ball lightning across the entire enemy line—Sotoven knights, Tiger Lords, and infantry commanders alike reduced to smoking husks in a single devastating strike.
Zephyr's lightning proved the battle's true decider—watch as she disconnects from her cavalry, positions herself perfectly, and unleashes ball lightning that arcs through knight, berserker, and infantry alike. The smell of ozone and burnt flesh carried across the swamp that day.
Zephyr unleashing her full electrical fury across the battlefield, ball lightning arcing between eight targets and reducing entire formations to cinders—a display of magical devastation that would make even archmages weep with envy or terror.
Chapter 3
The interrogation of Baroness Pavetta reveals a web of Brevic politics that would make any scheming noble proud—a scorned wife, a seductive mistress, and client-state arrangements that transform a simple conquest into an act of war against one of the most powerful houses in the realm.
The Baroness Pavetta, captured and bitter, reveals more through spite than she ever would through torture. Her hatred for Quintessa outweighs her loyalty to her husband—a tale as old as nobility itself. Mark my words, scorned wives make excellent informants.
Baroness Pavetta's bitter confession, revealing the tangled web of jealousy, political alliance, and betrayal that defined her marriage—a scorned wife whose hatred for her husband's mistress proved more valuable than any torture could extract.
Chapter 5
Baron Hannis Drelev's end came not with the dignity befitting nobility, but pinned beneath a dragon's claws while fire and lightning consumed his throne room. His jester died laughing—or would have, had Zephyr's 134 damage critical not vaporized him before he could draw breath.
The court jester dies before taking a single action—incinerated mid-quip by ball lightning. Baron Drelev's final stand lasts barely longer before Nivna's claws find his throat. But note the mistress who escapes through illusion while they execute her lover. That one will return.
The court jester's ignominious end—134 points of lightning before he could even take a turn, followed by Nivna's draconic roar echoing across the courtyard as she displayed the Baron's corpse.