This blog is a narrative outline (a literary embelishemnt if you will) of a campaign and setting that I created for 2E when I was in college. I adapted to 4E and am currently playing out with my son, who has followed in his father's love of the game.
II - Hankel
Posted 30th November 2008 at 11:42 PM by H.M.Gimlord
Updated 28th January 2009 at 05:48 AM by H.M.Gimlord (Changing the title numbers to fit the chronology of the story)
Updated 28th January 2009 at 05:48 AM by H.M.Gimlord (Changing the title numbers to fit the chronology of the story)
The old man looked up over his book long enough to see that his six-year-old son was not getting into any trouble. “Hankel! My boy!”
“Yes Papa?”
“Crawl up here on your old man’s lap.” Bard put the book down and beckoned the way an old man might ask for another drink across the bar, “Have I ever told you a story about the great Arkus Lightning Hammer?”
“No papa. Who is he?”
Bard shot his eyebrows up pretending to be surprised, “Who is Arkus Lightning Hammer!? Why he’s the greatest dwarf ever to dig the earth! ”
Long ago, in a time that has forgotten many deeds, and even more names, there lived a dwarf whose name was Arkus. He was king of a great fortress on an island right here in the middle of Avenroc. He had discovered a magic that could cut the rock open as well as defeat the largest of foes in battle with lightning and thunder. He wielded the power justly, ruling over the island in both mountain and forest.
He had two sons: Hemrec and Bardir –“
“That’s your name, Papa.”
“Oh. So it is. Maybe I’m mistaken about his name.” He winked, “Anyway, wealth flowed from the forges underneath Arkus’ keep in the form of steel the like of which no country, here or abroad, had ever seen, but it was not to last. A great blue dragon came from over the sea, breathing storms and hearing of the magic that splits the rocks apart. He descended on Arkus’ mountain keep and claimed it for his own – “
“Bradon tells me that there’s no such thing as dragons.”
“What!? No such thing as dragons!? Why there most certainly are dragons in this world. You may go through your entire life and never see a dragon (and I hope that you never do), but I assure you that they do exist, and you would be wise to remember that.
Now where was I? Ah yes. The dragon descended on Arkus’ mountain keep, and drove the dwarves before him. Arkus himself fell in the battle. The lightning magic was of no use. You see, blue dragons can’t be hurt by lightning. It flows in their blood. It’s what they are made of. Arkus didn’t know this, and it was his undoing. Even Hemrec fell in the battle. Eight hundred forty-three dead in all. Only five of them survived by hiding in a small prison keep that was too deep for the wyrm to find.”
“What about Bardir?”
“Well, Bardir wasn’t there. He was off delivering a shipment of steel to the mainland, far away. When he returned, he found that the keep had been taken. He took his men, and tried to get it back, but he died in the attempt.”
“That’s a sad story.”
“You expect all stories to have a happy ending?”
“Sure. Why shouldn’t I?”
“It’s not always that way my son.”
“Papa?”
“Yes?”
“Is the dragon still there?”
Bard’s face momentarily lost expression but quickly composed itself, “It’s time for you to get to bed, Hankel. Onyxia! This boy looks tired doesn’t he?”
“Well I’m sure he’ll sleep well after a story like that.” A stout, but charming dwarf lady of elder years dusted her hands as she strode into the room from the kitchen, swept Hankel up into her arms, and kissed him on the cheek, “Come child. To bed with you. Don’t let Papa’s stories keep you from a good night’s rest. He’s got to work in town early tomorrow, and, if you want, you can help around the forge.” Onyxia rounded on Bard, “For heaven’s sake Bard. Don’t scare the boy!”
Bard looked back with an expression of mock innocence that hid a serious desperation, “He must know one way or the other my wife.”
“Yes Papa?”
“Crawl up here on your old man’s lap.” Bard put the book down and beckoned the way an old man might ask for another drink across the bar, “Have I ever told you a story about the great Arkus Lightning Hammer?”
“No papa. Who is he?”
Bard shot his eyebrows up pretending to be surprised, “Who is Arkus Lightning Hammer!? Why he’s the greatest dwarf ever to dig the earth! ”
Long ago, in a time that has forgotten many deeds, and even more names, there lived a dwarf whose name was Arkus. He was king of a great fortress on an island right here in the middle of Avenroc. He had discovered a magic that could cut the rock open as well as defeat the largest of foes in battle with lightning and thunder. He wielded the power justly, ruling over the island in both mountain and forest.
He had two sons: Hemrec and Bardir –“
“That’s your name, Papa.”
“Oh. So it is. Maybe I’m mistaken about his name.” He winked, “Anyway, wealth flowed from the forges underneath Arkus’ keep in the form of steel the like of which no country, here or abroad, had ever seen, but it was not to last. A great blue dragon came from over the sea, breathing storms and hearing of the magic that splits the rocks apart. He descended on Arkus’ mountain keep and claimed it for his own – “
“Bradon tells me that there’s no such thing as dragons.”
“What!? No such thing as dragons!? Why there most certainly are dragons in this world. You may go through your entire life and never see a dragon (and I hope that you never do), but I assure you that they do exist, and you would be wise to remember that.
Now where was I? Ah yes. The dragon descended on Arkus’ mountain keep, and drove the dwarves before him. Arkus himself fell in the battle. The lightning magic was of no use. You see, blue dragons can’t be hurt by lightning. It flows in their blood. It’s what they are made of. Arkus didn’t know this, and it was his undoing. Even Hemrec fell in the battle. Eight hundred forty-three dead in all. Only five of them survived by hiding in a small prison keep that was too deep for the wyrm to find.”
“What about Bardir?”
“Well, Bardir wasn’t there. He was off delivering a shipment of steel to the mainland, far away. When he returned, he found that the keep had been taken. He took his men, and tried to get it back, but he died in the attempt.”
“That’s a sad story.”
“You expect all stories to have a happy ending?”
“Sure. Why shouldn’t I?”
“It’s not always that way my son.”
“Papa?”
“Yes?”
“Is the dragon still there?”
Bard’s face momentarily lost expression but quickly composed itself, “It’s time for you to get to bed, Hankel. Onyxia! This boy looks tired doesn’t he?”
“Well I’m sure he’ll sleep well after a story like that.” A stout, but charming dwarf lady of elder years dusted her hands as she strode into the room from the kitchen, swept Hankel up into her arms, and kissed him on the cheek, “Come child. To bed with you. Don’t let Papa’s stories keep you from a good night’s rest. He’s got to work in town early tomorrow, and, if you want, you can help around the forge.” Onyxia rounded on Bard, “For heaven’s sake Bard. Don’t scare the boy!”
Bard looked back with an expression of mock innocence that hid a serious desperation, “He must know one way or the other my wife.”
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