Raiders of Aundair : The Dead Men Walk Again (prologue)

DrZombie · Sep 18, 2007

For some the peace after the last war is a blessing, but for some it has left a hollowness that just cannot be filled. They sing songs about the 'Dead Men', not knowing you were once part of them. They have the details wrong, leave out the names of your friends that were slain, burned, maimed.... They sing about sacrifice, but wouldn't know it if it bit them in the arse. And now the people just want to hear stories about strange adventures in far-away continents, and want to forget the war altogether.

Forget the war? Forget the price you've paid day after day, year after year? And for what? Parts of Aundair are still underthe heel of the occupier, not to mention those treehugging traitors in the reaches, cutting of vital supplies in the middle of the war.

People call you bitter, but they are wrong. They have forgotten what you remember still. They are blind to what you see.

Then, one day, a gnome in the livery of the cockatrice brings you a sealed letter.

"My dear friend,

I have not forgotten what you and your friends did for me on the field. Two years ago this day, I would have died if not for you. I realise I have no right to ask you to do more for me or my Aunt, but circumstances force my hand. I have need of you and your friends once more. Meet me at the House Jorasco Inn at treewell village a month from now, if you wish to see if you and your old friends can live up to their name once more.

Dover."

DrZombie · Sep 18, 2007

House Jorasco Inn, Treewell village, Aundair

The warmth of the large fire roaring in the hearth makes the bite of the cold weather all the more fierce for a moment before it warmth does it's best to get the cold out of your bones. You look around at the cozy inn, mouth watering at the smells that come wafting from the kitchen, when a polite waitress inquires if you are here for the reunion. She leads you to a separate part of the inn. A small private room, elegantly furnished with a table that is set out for dinner, and a sitting area where some small appetisers are festively set on a table. She asks what you want for a drink and then leaves you.

Eryndur · Sep 18, 2007

Konnel Kressid Pal5/GG2

Konnel Kressid, holy champion of Aundair and Dol Dorn, passes his hands through his hair after the waitress leaves. His eye catches a stray strand and he holds it in front of him with two fingers.

A gray hair? Already? Not surprising, I suppose.

He's wearing his traveling leathers right now, his field armor taken up to his room. His gigantic dire pick rests at his legs, as always. As he waits nervously for his longtime companions, he peruses the network of scars on his bare arms.

Memories of blood and battle flash through his mind, causing his teeth to grind together. He can feel it, just over some near horizon -- the desire for cold vengeance, like an insatiable beast.

Konnel watches in amazement as his fist clenches until the knuckles whiten. He had been too long from the front; war was all he knew, and the Treaty of Thronehold had actually scarred him more than any Flameborn weapon. Peace represses anger, bottles it up, makes it simmer. There was no justified outlet any more. He needed a cause, and badly.

He forces himself to relax, and tries to think how wonderful it will be to see his old comrades-in-arms. Hopefully, more than a squad would show up.

ethandrew · Sep 18, 2007

Retief Mantayne; Marshall 6

The air was cold, even inside the door and next to the fire. It pierced through Retief's coat, through his chain and clothes, and blew harshly against his skin. Discomfort was a way of life to the former soldier, and the cold made him feel awkwardly at home. He stood in front of the hearth for a moment, turning his back toward the flames, as the dancing, licking fire stirred in him memories of fallen friends by the hands of other heathen flames. He scanned the room, looking for familiar faces, faces that had seen what he'd seen, cried when he cried, bled when he bled.

But he found none. Pushing away the lingering doubt in the back of his mind, Retief Mantayne pulled the letter out of his pocket once more, unfurled the well worn seams and read it for the thousandth time. Maybe I am early, that is all. He folds the parchment back up and puts it in his pocket once again, hoisting his immaculate bow over his right shoulder, so that the fine wood rests against his gleaming gorget.

Retief stands in front of the fire, looking and feeling out of place amongst the revelers, these countrymen whom he fought to maintain their way of life, their honour as Aundairians. As much as he loathed their lack of understanding and appreciation, he served for them.

When the waitress approached him, any request Retief was about to make was cut short by the question of the reunion. Excitement coursed through him, replacing the pervasive cold as he was led to the back room. Any disappointment at seeing only one of his former "Dead Men" in the room was quickly gone, for it had been a while since he had seen his friend.

"Konnel Kressid, you old dog, is that a grey hair I see?" Retief's baritone is quiet, yet it somehow carries and fills the room. His eyes shine as he places his bow on the ground, moving to embrace his fellow sergeant.

Drerek · Sep 18, 2007

Aaranth, Khorvaire Elf Sor 1/Ftr 4

An elf, taller than average for his race, steps into the room. His green eyes immediately scan the room for enemies. Only after the room appears clear does the elf take his hand away from the bow slung across his shoulder. The elf still appears to be in his prime, but one look into his eyes tells you that he has lived through more danger and heartache than even the oldest of most elves.

The elf is not armored but his quick movements and obvious agility make him seem far from vulnerable. The bow across his back is finely made and a quiver hangs from his hip. Oddly enough, the quiver seems to hold more arrows than it should from its appearance, and even a couple of spearheads poke from the top. The only other obvious weapon is a simple dagger. His clothing and pack appear well made but functional.

He catches the humans' eyes finally. "Greetings, Konnel, Retief. So, they have called you up as well. Good. I had word from Jael that he would be joining us soon."

Eryndur · Sep 18, 2007

Konnel Kressid, Pal2/GG2

"You two bastards!" Konnel roars in mock surprise. "The likes of you were summoned? What's this country coming to?" He claps the two soldiers on the back.

"So, can I stay in the rear this time 'round, since you fellas have those pretty bows?"

He laughs a little bit too hard, obviously trying to overcompensate for his foul mood.

Blackrat · Sep 18, 2007

Jael had been living in seclusion ever since the war ended. He was surprised that the gnome was able to track him down, probably the fault of that bard who he had tried to teach in the ways of mind.

Now he was approaching the Inn of Treewell with somewhat excitement. It had been a long time since he had seen these faces. During this time he hadn't seen anyone from 51st except his brother. And even him only on couple of occasions. Now he was wearing his tabard, the only thing he really owned after he had declined material wealth, proudly presenting the colors of Aundair and his rank as a major. He didn't know what this meeting was about but he suspected that there wouldn't be many occasions remaining that he could carry the tabard on him. And so he entered the Inn. He had noticed the chill outside but his strenght of will kept him warm. It was one of the things he had learned during his time alone. As the waiter led him to the backroom the doubt hit his mind. The scars were still warm and he knew there would be faces missing from this evening. But he carried himself strongly to the room.

The three men present in the room brought a rare smile on the elf's face. There was his brother in blood and two of his other brothers. Not many would have guessed that Jael and Aaranth carried the same blood, as Aaranth was as tall as an elf could be whereas Jael was from the shortest stock of their kind.

Jael bowes his bald head: "A bee, removed from the hive, will die." He says calmly, knowing that his brothers understand. "It has been a long time."

Drerek · Sep 18, 2007

Eryndur said:
"So, can I stay in the rear this time 'round, since you fellas have those pretty bows?"

Aaranth smiles with as much warmth as he can muster, "We need something to fight with if you are still using that oversized shovel. Earth elementals are fleeing in terror as we speak."

Eryndur · Sep 18, 2007

Drerek said:
"Earth elementals are fleeing in terror as we speak."

"*snort* If they know what's good for them." Konnel pats the head of his pick lovingly. "Don't worry, darling. The elf didn't mean it."

He salutes smartly as Jael walks into the room. "Major Shaez, sir. Welcome."