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Because in the end you need to show, not tell.

WHO:

Galethiel is the heroine who very nearly wasn’t– and unlike other heroes of the Lands who died or went away, we would have had no story at all to tell without her. In fact, we could not even have dreamed it.

Galethiel, a human sorceress later known as the Nomenseer, was one of the Tributarians, with the band for their epic (as yet unchronicled) adventures on the Shimmering Mindsea. Many things happened there– a whole book’s worth, in fact– but for our purposes mainly two. Galethiel acquired a mystic headpiece or tiara called Nomen, possessed of rudimentary intelligence and able to name any being she comes in contact with. And Galethiel had a very strange experience with a black stone globe, which put her to sleep and gave her a dream unlike any other. When the Tributarians returned from the desert awash in treasure, she began to study the meaning and purpose of dreams, coming to suspect there was a tangible reality behind them. As The Plane of Dreams begins, Galethiel retires to study, apparently removing herself from any chance to play the hero with her former companions. But the best-laid plans…

Galethiel is a red-haired human and a mage, which in the elven kingdom of Argens are the three perfect ingredients in a dish called “impulsive and dangerous”. Her dress sense is far beyond that of most adventurers, who generally opt for armor and weapons that work well, rather than match. Her tall headpiece only adds to the imposing figure she cuts, and the thick black cedarwood staff she carries, topped by a golden spinning sphere, is sufficient to clear a path in the mall or on the road. In truth Galethiel is quite kind and honest, perhaps even a bit introverted, at least until someone provokes her. But it’s no use– everyone knows human mages are on a hair-trigger, learning too much and having too few years left to live!

WHY:

It is one of the most amazing experiences of my long chronicling career, that there appear to be no coincidences. Galethiel is a prime example. After the adventures I describe, she gained an interest that I thought would take her forever out of the world I was following. But this discovery, and a small, seemingly-random conversation with Meandar, changed the course of history. By doing what she thought was best, following her heart on a path of discovery, she found not less peril but more, and eventually was the key to saving the known world. Other adventurers I’ve seen HAVE indeed retired, but Galethiel, as well as Sir Qerlak on the foef where she lives, have both discovered that traditional “out there” adventuring is not the only stage for heroism.

Galethiel also has numerous interesting relationships, both friend and foe. Chief among these of course is Qerlak Barleybane, former Trib and newest lord of Mon-Crulbagh. The barony of Dargor is starting to buzz about the rumored relationship between the elven lord and human commoner, all but forbidden in polite society. The bond between adventuring companions is hard for most to fathom, but if any of Qerlak’s peers were wont to sneer at his eccentricities, it gives them pause to know that he has a sorceress on his staff.

Galethiel attracts some attention from a roving bard named Bleys Eversong (in the upcoming Tale of Hope, The Test of Fire). Thanks to her part in saving the world in its dreams, Bleys is either in love with the sorceress or perhaps agog at her celebrity. He has dedicated a song to her, and taken to wearing her colors. Qerlak’s reaction to this is as yet unclear– Bleys knows a lot of history the new lord does not and has been helpful in other ways.

And her chief nemesis from the Plane of Dreams is Nightmare, who put a chill into her on several occasions, and into me as well:

{Galethiel in her dream can see a row of herself, stretching back into the past, but now notices something else}

… this time, she could make out a vaguely man-like shape.
The darkness appeared next to the row of doubles: Galethiel kept her focus on it as she rose, and when the line came in view, she could still see the shadow. The figure was not actually black, but of such a dark shade of green as to seem so: contrasted with the ivory glow of the world its shadow was magnified.
And moving.
It was a he, Galethiel felt certain- twisted, alien of features and moving as someone used to absolute command, yet draped in what looked like a shredded covering of moss or dirty emerald tar. Now the tug of consciousness sharpened like a fisherman’s line. As she watched in repulsion, he loomed close to the side of one of the row, inspecting her double from head to toe and searching for something. After a long minute, it was clear he did not find it; turning away from the line, he seemed to extrude a part of his clothing, or himself, into an irregular, curving horn: though its narrow end was far too small to contain him, he entered it nevertheless and disappeared, drawing the substance of his conduit after him.
In no time at all, another horn appeared, next to the Galethiel one closer to where she stood. The tattered green figure emerged from it, and began to inspect this self. It was as if he could not see any of the others in the row, but had only himself and this copy in all the white world. By now, Galethiel was practically gasping for breath, fighting to contain her fear and to stay asleep as well, and losing on both fronts. How many more, until he caught up to her sleeping on this night?
His inspection completed, the green man turned to leave, but just as his horn was forming, he seemed to start, aware of some other presence. As he turned back in Galethiel’s direction, she could tolerate it no longer, and retreated towards the waking world with unpracticed haste. Just before she awoke, she saw from full-on a glimpse of a hateful, omnipotent face, who saw her in turn…

–The Plane of Dreams

HOW:

It’s official– I am obsessed about light and I cannot seem to get it right when I shoot. I turned on every lamp in the room, put a Coleman lantern just out of frame to one side, and I still needed to balance a flashlight over my head while trying to snap the shots with my other hand. The red satin background was, I thought, more appropriate to the Plane of Dreams setting, because it bubbled up so easily as the terrain does there. Plus it sets off Galethiel’s hair! But I think it made contrast and bringing out detail more difficult.

She doesn’t have her famous staff, but is clearly holding her arm out for it, and most everything else about the Galethiel fig is right, so kudos once again to Ral Partha. She has some wear and tear as appropriate to such a long-standing heroine. The Nightmare figure is so not, obviously– he’s Gothmog, the Mouth of Sauron, but the color of him was about right, so that’s what I used at need.

I hope this entry serves to inspire and amuse writers and readers alike. Some day you’ll hear more of what Galethiel achieves in The Test of Fire.

I’m getting wonderful shares from this column and I thank all of you whoever you are for that- please keep it up! Ar Aralte

Because in the end you need to show, not tell.

Another week, a new figure, and quite a story to tell, really for the first time. Ebann is, in many ways, the antagonist who got away.

{Don’t forget you can click on each picture and see the image really large, then click Back to keep reading.}

WHO:

The Dread Lord Ebann was an anchoritic sorceror living in the Hills Hunchant west of Mon-Crulbagh. Due to the inattention of its previous lords, he was able to carve out a small, non-human foef in that forbidding terrain, cowing a tribe of gargoyles into servitude to dig him a subterranean fortress and laboratory, where he delved in the earth for gems and minerals used in his experiments. No one suspected his existence until the new knight of Mon-Crulbagh, Q erlak Barleybane, came through with an adventuring band known as the Tributarians, on the Dreamquest chronicled in The Plane of Dreams. They left the place a mess…

WHY:

First of all, look. Just look at this guy. Quintessential evil or what? I can almost hear the theme music from The Empire Strikes Back. Ebann was always one of the most evocative villains I observed in the Lands. To this day I have no idea where he came from; turns out he was human, so I assume he was a cast-off from the Mages Guild, somebody who went too far even for the tastes of the day under the previous emperor, Viridian. The barony of Dargor where Mon-Crulbagh is located turns out to have been a nest of Demonbenders, and Qerlak’s overlord Beryllian has his hands full even now trying to weed that out. But I sense that Ebann wanted to be alone even if his practices had been welcome above ground. The layout of his under-rock fortress, or lair, suggests a strong streak of paranoia. He expected attack someday and was surprisingly well prepared. Ebann’s helm allowed him to see through the magical darkness and shadow spells he could produce. Other defensive enchantments included a battery of alchemical weapons. The key turning point came when Qerlak and the Tribs bargained to give his gargoyle-thralls their freedom once the Dread Lord had been defeated. Only a few of Ebann’s closest bodyguards stood by him at the crucial moment: so even with his traps and gas-bombs (sleep, of course), he had no chance.

I almost regret his defeat because it left me so little time to really examine Ebann’s history. His horrid talisman the Skullcun had some kind of hypnotic power that fortunately never came to bear (the dwarf Solo smashed it the instant Ebann fumbled the thing). Did he obtain it from the Plane of Dreams? There was a blackwood staff that Ral Partha forgot to include, but the raised fist, I admit, really makes the character so all is forgiven.

When I chronicled The Plane of Dreams, I turned aside from a more standard treatment of the battle and the bad guy, because the nature of the Dreamquest itself seemed to demand it. As interesting as Ebann’s methods, lore and tactics were, the really important development took place only after his defeat. The party, exhausted by several days without sleep, foolishly helped themselves to their adversary’s wine. And since Ebann was a recruited vassal of Nightmare, his final trap was sprung from beyond the grave. That’s the perspective of the tale, as seen by Solo, and as for how it came out… I urge you to read it and see!

It would be very interesting to go back and study his earlier days, learn some of the things I don’t yet know, but trust are there. Then again, so much of what the heroes encountered on the Dreamquest seems to have vanished on their return. Folks like Elias Fennet and the peasants of Mon-Crulbagh did not remember why the adventurers went into the swamp and hills in the first place. Maybe it was all a dream… and Qerlak has been too busy, in the months since, to send an expedition to the site of Ebann’s fortress. But the Dread Lord had unearthed many gems, some of which were quite useful to the Dream Seer Galethiel in her researches. Perhaps Sir Barleybane will attend to that someday, after this unpleasantness with neighboring Pritaelseran is past.

HOW:

The Nokia Refocus lens is working marvelously now and I am on balance very pleased with the range and resolution I can achieve. I shot most of these against a blood-red background (thanks to my good friend Bruce Leddy for the tapestry! actually the back lining of the tapestry you gave us as a wedding present lo, these many years ago). I only have one decent figurine to show the gargoyle-guards Ebann suborned: they were strong enough to wear chain and carry full shields without encumbrance, which in combination with a stony skin made their deaths a tough sell for the invading heroes. Always wanting to improve the value of the shots, I added some architecture pieces which give the flavor of the Dread Lord’s subterranean chambers- everyone except Solo became a bit claustrophobic before the end, but then they were exhausted at this point in the quest. For an added bonus, I present a good fig of the nearby Trolls who were the party’s last obstacle before accessing the Chamber of the Troll-Kings and thence the Plane of Dreams itself. Note how everything he’s previously fought becomes a new part of him- armor bits, spike shields, mangled weapons. Trolls- like the undead- are a daunting proposition- either beat them or quite literally join them.