Obsidian Grove, a Duchy of the Kingdom of Blackspire in Vancouver, WA
Obsidian Grove started out as Deep Water Grove. It originally met at Leverich Park, the site of the old Vancouver, Wa holding of Deep Water Gorge. However, that location had become a popular disc golf course, and it was decided to move the holding to Orchards Park. It became an official Blackspire holding in March of 2011.
The History of the Grove, as passed from Elder to Youngling. ~
"Obsidian Grove... what was once just a small village, now something much more. Let me tell you a tale of where the roots of your tree come from...
Many generations ago, in a valley not too far from where we are now, in the Kingdom of the Valley of Silver Rains, there was a bustling village on the border named Blacksun, with a quaint bridge over a stream, rolling fields, and a large lodge for the villagers to put on large feasts for traveler and bard alike. But not long did this small village remain out of the raging conflict going on all around it, between VSR, and the Kingdom of the Mystic Seas.
The crops became trampled time and time again. Try as we may, the village was ultimately destroyed, as the few of us survivors found shelter in neighboring lands for a small time...
After a generation we decided to rebuild our rightful home in the Valley once again, though the travel did good for our minds. Seeing the many wells used by other small villages and learning about the abundant resource of aquifers beneath our feet, we erected a large well where our meeting lodges once stood, and dubbed thusly the new shire, The Deep Water Glen.
Though there was a time of prosperity, the fighting fell upon us once more.. Though instead of the farmers their fathers told that were here, the invaders were met with skilled bow, massive barbarians with green in hand and axes on hip, warriors in full armor and honed blades, graceful elves who radiated the powers of healing and harm both, and a young monk who understood that peace, sometimes must be protected with violence.
The fields of Deep Water ran red once again, and when the final battle horns of the war between MS and VSR subsided, we were there, though many of us had fallen throughout the conflict.
As we wearily wandered back to our now broken home, many of us understood that we could never truly go back to what we had before... but future generations, in a now united Kingdom of Blackspire, may have the chance to grow their crops and harvest, but we, we must keep our blades sharp to insure our people were not lost. And so with the new Kingdom, the village changed the name to the Deep Water Gorge. And for a count of generations the gorge flourished.
However one day, good things came to an end once again. Many of the village left, to experience the world outside of this quiet valley, the now silenced sounds of battle had left a deafening quiet, and so one by one and two by two, the barbarian herd traveled, the elves went back to the east to their groves of green, and the Gorge fell silent for a time.
Years went by, before a traveling bard came across an old well and lodges. He had heard the stories of this place, but to see it with his own eyes was something else entirely. He found two wandering warriors passing by, one new with armor not yet marred, and one seasoned to the point of a deadly grace in all they did.
The young bard began rebuilding the village once more, keeping the name similar, in hopes that those who lived here would return once again.. and to his surprise, a young monk walked across the fields, drawn home by some strange calling. However the flag of Deep Water Gorge would fall once again. A group of rock throwing creatures had taken residence in the hills above the glen, and the multiplied quickly. Constantly throwing discs fashioned from materials of some far away place, they began to invade into the fields. This time, no armies came to their aid, and with this we were forced to flee our home, for the last time.
For a short time we were a caravan, not staying in any one place for too long, constantly heading east, for some of us remembered tales of our kin living in the tallest trees. As we found a hallow at the mouth of the forest, the name was decided. Deep Water Grove. So that we may remember who we were, but not take away from our identity and where we were then. As we explored the forests, meeting and learning with the local peoples, the Fey, they spirits, and the barbarian hordes that worshipped the Great White Tree, in their tongue, Gar'gatha'noon. Deep Water Grove flourished once again, and became deeply rooted in the culture of the local peoples, and for a time, things were peaceful.
Though the drums of war thundered once again, this time with this rich forest being the northernmost border of Blackspire with the now rising power of Northern Lights, a Principality at this time. The barbarian hordes answered the call of the drums, shouting the name of their holy tree as the charged blinded with rage into battle.
During this time, a dark god rose from the shadow of the forest. Corruption spread through the elementals who guarded the relics of power. The goblin races under the grove began to grow unsettled and much more violent. And as the forces of the Grove were divided, the Child of the Word struck, poisoning the wellsrpings and shattering the ancient relics of power that protected this grove from outside forces, casting them away to where to this day we cannot find them. The barbarian horde, fighting in the open fields of the north, heard for but a moment the sounds of the bells.
The holy tree dropped a sapling, for it knew its final days were upon it, with its children so far north. This rage that struck the barbarian herd was not just from the veins, but from the very soul, as they ran with a battle fury and bloodlust away from the fight they so craved to defend home. And that they did. Using the last remaining relic, carried by their cheiftan, they sealed away the Child of the Word into the very sapling he tried to corrupt, Sundering it from top to bottom.
The Grove was spared, but with the reinforcements gone, the Northern forces easily swept the now diminished armies of Blackspire to the side. But they did not forget a debt, and they had every intent of paying it back in full. And so, while the barbarians were still recovering from their long fought battles, a large black dragon was sent down from the north. A gift, from those of the Mithril Hills to the invading southerners, now susceptible with their relics gone.
The battle that took place can only be described as hallowing. With the last of their strength, the black dragon was indeed slain, but the disease that spread from its corpse would change the face of this grove forever. The trees became solid, as a deep stone.
They broke sheer and jagged, black as obsidian, save for one. The great white tree of Gar'gath'anoon, shielding herself and her children from the effects of this curse, but only just. As the surviving members of the grove entered into the forest, they were met by sight of a grove of obsidian glass. But they were tired of leaving their home, so they stayed, to protect the tree that protected them.
After generations the trees nearby began to remember their color, and living things would be grown once again. The village of Obsidian Grove would grow and thrive, fending off attacks from the north, invading pirates from the mystic seas, the war bands of dragons forge and the armies of iron keep. Many came to test the strength of the northern border, and we have remained strong ever since."
~ Luminar Sir Requiem Darksun Giovanni Darkjester, of Obsidian Grove, Blackspire
- Duchess - Sir Requiem Darksun
- Regent - Killion Mirkwood
- Prime Minister - Drax Cummuni
- Champion - Macsen
- Guildmaster of Reeves -
List of Members
Major Social Groups in Obsidian Grove
Orchards Park in Vancouver, WA
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