Opening track for 2Have and 2Role's podcast.

The strong wind parts the clouds to grant the sun a view of the field, and you watch as the banners of the Glory Square wave in greeting of a new day. The flapping of the cloth creates an accompaniment to the rustling of leaves, the colours of noble houses washing over you in magenta and gold, cyan and ivory. Today will bring glory, of that you are sure.

https://open.spotify.com/show/01FnKJCvj9R9zIuhN6LIvs?si=8de00bba72b74074    https://www.2have2role.com

House Colours

Something woke you, some bird or beast, but it is still dark. Stars tell their stories in the skies above you, and the clear night breeze strokes hair from your face. The day was long, but this night is longer, wrapping around you in the frozen space before dawn. Many were lost this day, many who will not return back through this stone archway. Thoughts, memories, regrets... bittersweet fireflies of emotion flickering across your consciousness. 
And then, as you stare off somewhere beyond the horizon, the first breath of sunlight stretches up to colour the clouds. It tints the leaves around you as the sky welcomes this new day with hope. You close your eyes, feeling the sun on your face, and smile.

Sunrise At The Sentinel Gate

A collection of oddities, outcasts, wayward souls. That is what makes up this ragtag party: a bundle of misfits in the guise of a cohesive group. You look to either side of you, a half-smile sliding onto your face as you take in the travellers you've found yourself with, bound together only by the guild and this adventure on which you now set out. Thieves and farmers walk side by side with questing knights and fallen nobles, unlikely paths crossed by circumstance. Do you trust them? Hell no. But you'll enjoy their company while it lasts.

The Adventurers' Guild

It's late, your campfire crackling against the sounds of the woods, a full drinking horn in one hand, and a drum at your feet. Your maps are spread out before you as you plan your way through the trods, avoiding Vallorn, orcs, and monsters.

Trodwalker

The rain pours down outside, percussion against the canvas in the field of tents. It drips from the doorway which flaps in the gentle wind as you light another candle against the encroaching dark, protecting yourself from the night and the storm. The small flame flickers, casting shadows on the wall of your tent, dancing along to the drumming of the deluge.

Deluge

You walk up to your camp, the warmth of the fire embracing you as you get closer. The wind stirs the trees, and they rustle in greeting, the leaves protecting your striding from the elements. It's been a long day, and your body yearns for rest, but the bright fire dances at you. So you sit and share tales with your fellow travellers, letting the storm and stories swirl around you.

Fireside Ballad

It was not the first striding that Bryseis had lost, but she was determined that it be the last. The feeling of people walking alongside her, the shared songs, the matching cloaks…it was not something that she would ever forget. But life goes on, and the trods are long. Sometimes there are others at your side, and other days you walk alone, all that matters is that you keep going.

Songbow

Title music for the Larp Noobs' "Tower of Anoch".
The day has been filled with adventure, but you know that it's not over as you stare on at the burning embers of the dying sun, setting yourself aflame with its light. You pull your cloak closer around you, sword at your hip, thinking on all that has happened, and all that is yet to come.

The Tower of Anoch

Saying goodbye is never easy, not least for the uncertainty of how long it will be until the day when, if, you will see one another again. You know that farewells are necessary, and that to keep going forwards you sometimes have to leave things behind, but still, it is hard to keep your gaze on the road ahead. All too often, you find your eyes straying to glance over your shoulder, looking back at what was.

Departure

Even when fate throws up walls in our paths, nothing can stop the Navarr as we roam the Trods. The summit of this year's Winter Solstice has been like no other, and the Navarr sit scattered across the Empire, unable to make their way to Anvil. However, the determination, ingenuity, and unbreakable spirit of our people will not be stopped, and we will march on. Try to stop us; I dare you.

Cyber Solstice

Some people looking in from the outside believe that the Navarr have no real home, endlessly walking the Trods with nothing that ties them to any one place. However, it is in the people with whom we walk, our Striding, that we find our home. Although we may travel far across the map, we do so while sticking close to our Striding, our family. It is not the land which calls to us and holds us close, but those around us as we walk the Trods, sticking close and travelling far.

Guitar by Caibre Lostchild

Sticking Close, Travelling Far

Archive of music by Bryseis L.S. Oakenhart Stormbroke of the Thornfang Wolves, Navarr (E3 2019–E1 2023). Founder of the Songbow Ensemble, last of her striding twice over, recorder player for the Rusty Compass (yes, the big recorder). Influenced by her heritage in Brocéliande and Elvette to create Navarri music with occasional Dawnish hints.

When the Long Dark comes calling, I like to do something to combat the emptiness. Empire has a soundtrack which inhabits my head on the battlefield, in taverns, or on the trods. I may not be able to sing, or play the guitar, but I will do my part to fill the silence.

Track photography by myself and Morgan Varney. Profile photo by Dave Buttery Photography

Bryseis Songbow Oakenhart

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