Adventures With Morganna
I’ve been in Hoelbrak for far too long.
My stay nearing a week and my mother has grown as tired of me as I had of her in the first day. I respect her like any norn would respect their bearer, but the woman drives me to the point of smashing furniture. She mellowed somewhat with Ida around, but by Raven even that cat can’t keep my mother from her infuriating taunting. I fear she will discover this journal, or chance upon me writing within it, she would never stop teasing. I’ve had more than enough of mother-daughter bonding and I’m ready to set back out on the hunt. The skies are still grey and foreboding, but I can at least make out the slightest rays of light, like a glowing circle in the cloudy haze. I will take my leave at dawn. I considered taking Ida with me as I will miss her, I have enjoyed playing games with her this past week but the hunt is no place for a cat, besides my other animal companions would likely eat her.     

Bored out of my mind.
The stormy weather has yet to clear and I’ve spent the past several days in Hoelbrak with my mother. She keeps calling me a lousy hunter, sitting in a hall all day (not that she has room to talk), but the welt on my face has cleared up so she can tease me about that no longer. My mother has grown fond of Ida, and I admit that the tabby has grown on me considerably, as well. I enjoy playing games with her at night, she’ll catch a rat and bring it to me, and then I’ll throw the rat across the hall for her to retrieve once more. This is a fun game to play until about the fourth throw when the rat finally dies and Ida looses interest. I’ve spent much of my time occupying The Growling Unicorn, sharing and listening to the stories of other hunters. There is a young minstrel girl, Leianna, a human but pretty enough, who sings some of the old songs with the ferocity of a hurricane. For her small frame she carries a booming voice that fills the hall and all stop their shouting and scuffling when she begins to sing. To my surprise, or perhaps not as I’m sure someone requested it as a joke, one night she sang The Ballad of Morganna the Spirit Caller. I’ve heard the song plenty of times as a child but it had been some years since I’d last heard the words and was shocked that this human bard would even know the uncommon song. 

Hunting has been poor over the past week.
I had a bow string break, which snapped backward to put a nice sized welt across my right eye, and the animals seem to be in hiding. What they hide from, and why, I am uncertain. They may just cower from the storm that keeps threatening but never seems to strike the ground. I’ve spent several nights resting in caves and listening to thunder roar above, yet never witnessing the drops of cool waters on the earth or a crack of lighting strike. Instead the skies just remain grey with a shadowed sun and neither moon nor star to guide me in the evening. If I had not grown up near Borealis Forest I could have easily become lost in the seemingly endless sea of trees. I tried to commune with Raven for answers but had no luck on my own and the Raven Shamans were too preoccupied to lend me aid. I’ve known Moda the Black, the current Speaker of Hoelbrak for the Raven Spirit, since I was a child and yet even she would not grant me an audience. Clearly I am not the only one having troubles as of late.



    A young norn, Morganna braves the lands of Tyria in search of adventure and triumphs to ensure her immortality in the songs of the norn. She often travels with not but her animal companions, but she has made several useful allies during her journeys and enjoys having company during her otherwise lonely quest. 

    Awaiting GW2
    This blog is set in the timeline of Guild Wars 2, since this game has yet to be released the updates will be irregular and of fictional adventures designed by me. I'm going to shoot for at least biweekly updates, but expect a much more active blog once the game releases later this year.


    August 2012
    May 2012


    Blog News
    Borealis Forest
    Morganna The Spirit Caller
    Non Story
    Sons Of Svanir
    Taigan Groves
    The Children's Lodge
    The Dry Storm
    The Growling Unicorn