On the edges of the Autumncrest, flowing down from Astrazalian is the once ruined bastion of Harrowhome.  A piecemeal, patchwork fortress of scorched stone and new construction, this half-sunken memorial is a testament to an ages old war and a memory not forgotten.

  The walls of Harrowhome remember the battle that carved the Autumn Court into being, and beyond its walls it welcomed every creature upended and scarred by war.  And continue to do so to this day.  
  Any wanderer that walks under its arches and through its gates, no matter their make or manner, will be treated to a warm bed, a hearty meal, and a safe rest.  You see, even before the Autumn, Harrowhome was a place of spirits.  Not haunted, mind you, but inhabited and cared for by creatures long dead.  Spirits of cooks, caretakers, healers, and one particularly crotchety jarl care for its visitors as if they were their own citizens.  
  Not going to lie, it is a bit off-putting at first.  Seeing the smiling, humming halfling maid that floats through the wall carrying a platter of fine kippers and tea as she drifts over to your bedside and kisses your forehead goodnight.  
And yet, Harrowhome is a place of comfort.  Weary travelers find assured rest within its walls without trickery (though the child ghosts can be a little mischievous); visiting guilds catch their breath and count their coin; and even an occasional warlord takes up residence once in a while.
  But any who pass through know the laws.  I - No violence will be willfully committed within the city's walls, not by its keepers nor its visitors.  II - Under no circumstances will these halls or their denizens be exorcised, for this place is under the watch of the Erlking, and thou will not rob him of his subjects, lest they wish to join the Wild Hunt themselves.

Passage through the Wildes can be treacherous and unpredictable for the uninitiated.  Rampant quicklings, enchanted campfires, giant mimics, and roaming primal spirits are commonplace under this aurora sky.  
  Nicholas Falanel, an old tortle of kind face and dreadful past, used his blessings in the arcane and survival to construct minute, portable waystations.  He would call these more accurately - totems.  Tiny pockets of neutral energy, these carved wood and stone spires would rest on either side of a beaten path no more than ten feet wide, planted at 10 foot intervals.  The resulting network of short-form, concentrated abjuration could hold at bay any number of malevolent Fey or Undead creatures.  
  But the totems are difficult to construct.  Though Nick has attempted to pass on his techniques, Wayfarers are a rare branch of an extremely rare sect, so the old tortle appears to be on his own for this endeavor.  That doesn't stop "Old Nick", though, and many a traveler has seen him tending to one of his seven Waystations across the Wildes - collecting more materials on his quest to connect the Feywild for any who may wander its beautiful and dangerous landscape.  
  Stop by for a tune or three, and a bowl of gumbo for thee.  And remember the skies before the Harrowed be true; we will always open our doors to you.  

Legacies carry weight in the expansive timeline of Io.  A name can be earned, or stolen, or bound, or lost, and all carry a legacy of rich history and meaning.  Much like the etymology of language, a name's path and purpose can change given their circumstances; heroes become villains, tyrants become priests, and thieves become nobles.
  Yet these developments benefit most from a structured timeline.  Instances and events of momentous growth and change powered by the metaphorical jet engine of past transgressions.  There is a line to follow in this madness.  

But.

What if the line were broken?  What if your name, your legacy, was taken from you; displaced somehow?  Without the benefit of a past to learn from, what new future does a creature forge?
  In today's Lore Drop, on November's theme of Legacy Names, let's take a look at one of the most curious of NPCs - the Va'Orodin.

In every Age of Io, a Va'Orodin has crossed the paths of the dozens of heroes ignited by furious purpose, but few gave their names.  Of the ones that did, even fewer stuck around.  
  Io-Shar: Ja'Naya Va'Orodin was discovered by a pirate crew under the leadership of a stalwart lizardfolk (Ricin) and a grumpy elf (Grim).  Ja'Naya was fiercely loyal to Captain Grim, devoting her life to his cause of vengeance and dominance over the flooded world.  An adept cleric of some ancient neutral angel, Ja'Naya entered hailed from Io-Sooth, the 2nd Age, and carried with her a terrible sacrifice.  The first keeper of the legendary Sunraker Gauntlet, she was surprised to find that when she would remove the item from her arm, her skin and muscle came with it.  At some point in her past life, she willingly or unwillingly traded the flesh of her right arm for a legendary item.  Whatever the case, though, the Gauntlet would leave her body at her passing nearly 20 years later, and serve the Valenwood family for nearly 100 years before passing into Loremaster care.
  Io-Ren / Io-Shar: Once a cleric of Istus, the deity of fate and chance, Straiga Va'Orodin was undeterred by his displacement.  An adept tactician and pole arm master, this red trifling would find rewarding work among others like him - the lost and forgotten.  He found this home through the mercenary band known as the Knight Owls, and would rise through its ranks to command his own team in the 4th Age (Knight Owls - Season 3).
   Io-Shar (Feywild): Yasha Va'Orodin is a creature of subtle, athletic frame, and stalwart reserve.  She is one of the Gatekeepers of the nexus city of Astrazalian.  Where and when she came from, no one really knows, but she holds great respect for the Fey Court, especially Lady Winter Sarissa.  Perhaps we'll see more of her...perhaps not.

And what say the Raven Queen, the one who holds memory and time and antiquity aloft to the thousands of souls that pass her bastion in the planes of shadow?  Or the Angels of the Sunrake?  Or the Valkyrum of the Evernight?  Powerful overlords and dissonant factions pull a curious lens over those in ages without belonging, so what purpose awaits creatures like this?

Well.

This old Loremaster is pulled to consider instead the Equation of Potential.  As long-lived as I am, I know not everything, nor did my past lives, but if you'll humor a fellow ancient for a moment, we may yet find common ground.  There are many across the Ages whose actions have sent ripples unknown; great things, terrible things, powerful things.  All without knowledge of the future.  Yet, we know there to be entities whose intelligence and memory are ageless; the mere concept of our mortality is a single drop in the river of their understanding.  Perhaps, say, they drop a pebble into that river.  Each ripple is a lifetime, and three lifetimes over, a ripple shifts a stone ever so slightly, and the river flows a different direction.  Such a tiny act can have a tremendous impact.  And if that pebble had free will?  Yes, I think we understand each other.
  So are the Storm-Touched spilled by design of some great entity, or are their fateful tempests random?  This one knows not.  Only time will tell.

Safe travels, Stormsinger.
-Loremaster Arteza Rainmaker