Doom of the Savage Kings

GlassEye · Feb 2, 2015

Set just off the town square, Hirot’s sole inn welcomes weary travelers day and night. A lonely caravansary long before Hirot grew into a village, the inn still retains hints of its rough origins: arrow slits are set into the shutters, a heavy iron bar stands ready to bar the door, and crenellations are set along the roof’s edge.

Morgan goes to the heavy oak door and pounds on it. You can hear the plank dragged across as someone within unbars the door and pulls it open. Standing in the door is a bulky figure, shoulders slumped in exhaustion or defeat. When he sees the girl he visibly perks up. "Morgan? Is it really you? How can it be?"

"It is, Da," says Morgan as she pushes past the man and beckons for the others to follow her into the inn. "Rescued, by kind warriors who drove off the hound and saved my life."

The man steps aside. "Come in, and quickly!" He seems much invigorated at seeing his daughter live and hale. "You have my eternal gratitude, friends!"

The inn, apparently known as the Wolf-Spear, is host to a common room on its ground floor where food and drink are served. A great wolf-spear, the inn's namesake, rests above the bar. There are several people in the room huddled over drinks and food, all looking particularly dejected. Eyes are wide as they watch strangers enter.

Scott DeWar · Feb 2, 2015

Hanks eyes lock on the wolf spear as soon as his eyes adjust to the dim interior of the inn, his face metaphorically drools on an intellectual level. he waits for a moment to determine when a good and polite time to get a word in edgewise to inquire of it. In the mean time he sets his journal to a blank page and sets to writing of some thoughts on his Trieste of the supernatural wolf hound.

Deuce Traveler · Feb 2, 2015

Kurl whispers, "Do you think it's a good time to start preaching about my swamp deity now or should I let them warm up to me first?"

Boral answers quickly, "They seem lost in their own thoughts. Let's not ruin a good funk."

"Better yet, how about we warm up our feet by the fire and purchase some food and drink first. Some mutton and ale for each of us I think will do us good," Tender suggests and then goes forth to make the order.

GlassEye · Feb 8, 2015

A young man notices Hank's interest in the spear hanging in the inn. He slips off his stool next to the fireplace and approaches Hank's side peering over the scribe's shoulder to scan briefly what was written.

"Ulfheonar. Or at least a replica." Now that the young man has pointed it out Hank can see the spearhead is carved from wood and painted silver. The young man sticks out his hand. "I'm Llore, storyteller & singer. I've plenty of tales about the savage warlord Ulfheonar and the spear that took his name, if you've interest in hearing them."

When Tender makes his order and begins to withdraw coin the barkeep shakes his head and pushes the coin back into Tender's hand.

"No, no, no. You brought my precious daughter, Morgan, back to my household. For that, your money is worthless here. Room and board is yours for as long as you wish to stay." The big man sticks out a meaty hand to grasp Tender's and give it a shake. "I'm Bull Haverson. Welcome to the Wolf-Spear."

Scott DeWar · Feb 9, 2015

Hanks eyes light up bright at the opportunity to hears of tales, he is a scribe after all.

"Why yes! Please tell us more of the tale of Ulfheonar. I am a scribe and have read many tales of many lands, so maybe I can write some of these tales down. I am also curious if you know of any tales of the wolf hound that tried to eat Morgan over there.

Homer is curious too, and his money is not doing anything but weigh him down. "I only have copper of my own, but allow me to loosen up you vocal chords with a few coins." He places 20 copper coins in front of the tale teller with a smile on he halflings face.

Franko jumps up and down in a childish fashion, "Story time, story time!"

CanadienneBacon · Feb 10, 2015

A shadow darkened the tavern door. Alois, the town cobbler stood in the entryway, and peered with a grunt into dark interior of the inn. At 6'2", Alois had to duck to avoid banging into the door lintel. His shoulders shrank inward, too. Damn doors, always too small, too narrow. Just like beds. Not Maisie's hayloft, though. Alois smiled. Once inside, Alois shuffled forward toward the bar, and plunked himself down. He put a pair of copper pieces on the bar and hoped a draft of something came his way soon.

Across the bar, alone at a table meant for four, an elf with gold hair sat and eyed Llore while the young man re-told the tale of Ulfheonar. The elf smirked, waiting for the young Llore to inevitably make an error in the telling. We'll see if he gets the telling of it right. Most skip the berserker part. The elf sat quietly, listening intently to Llore's story.

The door opened yet again and closed quietly, admitting Lizt, a small young townswoman with a petite frame and homely features. The word in town was that Lizt had been engaged to Alois, who stood her up at the temple after a drunken tumble with Maisie, a local dairyman's daughter. Lizt stood just inside the doorway, uncertain. Hair the color of mud was shorn short, and brown eyes drank in the inside of the bar. The odor of hemp followed the young woman, perhaps the only remarkable thing about her. Lizt eyed Alois's large frame perched at the bar and frowned. She opted for a table as far away from Alois as possible, which unfortunately left her with the elf. "Can I sit here?" Lizt stood in front of Gratien's table and shifted from one foot to the other, nervous. Gratien looked surprised. No one had ever asked to sit with him before. A long beat passed before Gratien inclined his head and moved his longbow out of the way. Lizt looked grateful and allowed herself a small smile. "Thanks." Not bothering to order, Lizt turned to see what had so enraptured the elf's attention, her eyes lighting on Llore. The pair sat in silence, listening.

CanadienneBacon · Feb 12, 2015

Gratien is unable to stand it any longer. He stands up from the table and murmurs "Please excuse me" to Lizt. Gratien crosses the room and seats himself across from Llore. The elf leans in. "You tell a good story. Not many tell Ulfheonar's tale so well. Where did you learn it?" Gratien smirks at Hank. "Did you like the telling, young one?"

Lizt crosses her arms and huffs, disappointed in Gratien's departure.

Alois looks up from his clay mug of bitter, spies an irritated-looking Lizt, and quickly looks down. The large man visibly withdraws into his frame. If he could fit himself in his mug and disappear, he would.

Deuce Traveler · Feb 12, 2015

Kurl says, "I want to hear this tale, too. I'm hoping he doesn't skip the gory parts."

Tender frowns and answers, "I'm tired of bloody reality. I want to hear a happy tale of heroism and justice."

Boral sighs and asks, "Why aren't there any tales of simple farmers living simple lives. It always has to be about muscular princes and saving scantily clad maidens from tentacled monstrosities."

Kurl raises an eyebrow. "Yes, that would make a good tale, too. Let's hear about the scantily clad maidens and muscular princes. And don't skimp on the good parts."

Scott DeWar · Feb 12, 2015

Hank slowly closes his eyes and rubs his forehead. "I would be happy to hear of as accurate of a story as possible. What I write down in my journal will have the note of who authored this tale, in this case you sir will be credited with the accuracy of this information.

Not to mention, we, as the potentially vanquishing party, need to kno0w of as many useable facts as possible. I am a scribe."

He pulls out his journal, pen and ink, "So, now how about that story?"

Franko pulls up a chair and sits in it backward facing the others. A childish grin is on his face. "Oh, yes! Facts about scantily clad maidens indeed!"

Homer just eats and drinks, his head shaking in silence and rolling his eyes back.

GlassEye · Feb 17, 2015

Bull Haverson scooped up Alois' coppers as he moved round the bar. He grabbed a mug, filled it, and slid it across to the man. His attention was more on the strangers and his daughter than the locals. Alois recognized the look, though few turned that sort of hero-worship his way.

Llore smiled across at the elf after his tale was done. The tale had plenty of gory parts, mostly about how Ulfheonar used his spear to pierce, disembowel, and slay a pack of monstrous wolves that ravaged the land in the warlord's time. There were only a few grateful maidens at the end and no mention was made of the state of their clothing, scanty or otherwise. While told in an entertaining manner Gratien found only the core of the tale matched the elvish history of the man.

"Thank you, Sir Elf. Learned the tale of Savage Ulfheonar from my master. He was a true bard, by the ancient training." The boy's smile slips at mention of his master and those local to Hirot remember that the master was one taken early by the Hound.

Llore shoved his gloom aside and laughed at the banter amongst the people gathered around him. The sound seemed to startle many of the locals; some looked up with wide eyes and fearful looks, as if the sound of humor and good cheer would draw the demonic beast.

"We need a hero to take up the Spear of Ulfheonar and put down this ill-begotten Hound before more are sent to be slain by it," calls out Bull Haverson from behind the bar.