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Carnifex's Story Hour (Updated January 20th, "The Union")
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<blockquote data-quote="Carnifex" data-source="post: 1301563" data-attributes="member: 227"><p>Yes, we're updating once again! While Cazamir and his band of squabbling sages have arrived at a monastery deep in the mountains, preparing to move on after a rest there to the site of an ancient tower that they wish to study, Wolf's Company are in dire straits. More precisely, Wolf himself is, having been severely injured and poisoned by an ambush led by Red Talons out to get him, and the rest of the party are now having to carry him onwards as they head to the nearest place they might get aid, a nearby monastery...</p><p></p><p>Also, they have now been joined by Sir Angelo Dar 'Averask, a Knight Errant initiate of the Order of the Black Knights of Zhatan who helped repel the Red Talon ambush. Asked by Melisande, the young sorceress now intently interested in anything involving knightly orders, codes of honour, and other things that might apply to her newfound sense of <em>Purpose</em> (OOC: And her level in Paladin <img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite1" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":)" /> ), the Black Knight begins to tell of the history of Zhatan...</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>The 'Wolf pack,' as Burl had mentally tagged the group, gathered itself together and prepared to move out, the now concious but still immobile Wolf slung into the litter. They headed off once again, the Black Knight with Sebastion on one side and Melisande on the other, both having shown interest in hearing more of the man's Order. </p><p></p><p></p><p>* * *</p><p></p><p></p><p>"The Black Knights of Zhatan are, at the core, a religious order," Angelo began, the three riders keeping astride, horses plodding along. "Our origins lie with the dragon Zhatan, sainted warrior of Urazel." </p><p></p><p></p><p>The knight told them the tale of Zhatan, an exemplar for the warrior followers of Urazel. In the early years of Huron as a nation, when Urazel had united them, they were beset from many sides by dangers and enemies, especially from in the west, beyond what are now called the Cliffs of Zhatan, where the goblins and giants of the wasteland dwelt as they had continued to do up to the present day. Most threatening to the fledgeling nation was a great gathering of the wasteland dwellers, many thousands upon thousands; sages in later years speculated it was caused by pressures from the far west and the expansion of some empire there. This horde cascaded towards the cliffs, heading towards the central pass - where now the Tower of Zhatan stands guard. Zhatan was a red dragon, a servant of Urazel who had allied with the Huronese and aided them in battle. </p><p></p><p></p><p>Unlike many dragons who were arrogant or evil, Zhatan saw great things in the structure of Huron he observed being built, and thought with sadness of it being burned and destroyed to become nothing but dust. He held the pass alone against the horde, letting the garrison flee back to gather the armies that were camped on the Kiur plains. </p><p></p><p></p><p>It is recorded that in that battle Zhatan, the mighty red dragon, slew twenty seven thousand foes. </p><p></p><p></p><p>When his muscles and flesh gave out, blades and spears and spells tearing his scales and wings, he fought on even then, infused with the power of Urazel. When the armies arrived three days later he was still fighting, and the leaders of the horseman tribes saw the enemy flee, and the dragon finally collapse. </p><p></p><p></p><p>The cult of Zhatan had grown strong, and several hundred years ago the Black Knights were founded as an order of templars to help defend the Tower of Zhatan and the pilgrimage routes in the area. They grew, to their embarrassment, quite wealthy. The rich and poor alike made donations from piety and a wish to gain influence with the Church, and the Black Knights success in several battles against raiders brought them the favour of high-up ecclesiastics. Nonetheless the tough life of the Order - a life on which ones own safety was not a concern, but an afterthought to the safety of the Church, Huron and those who wished to live their lives in peace - meant that in numbers it did not grow. Then one of the grand masters many years ago took a chance and ploughed much of the wealth they had accrued but had little need for into the research of a single genius thaumineer-mechanic. </p><p></p><p>The result was Dragon Armour, large, powered suits of metal and weaponry capable of smashing enemy battlelines and crushing foes underfoot. With it, the Knights became one of the most feared and respected military forces on the battlefield anywhere. Angelo spoke of how once he had finished his time as a novice, he would be himself trained in the use of the sacred armour. </p><p></p><p></p><p>The Black Knights provided both an additional buttress to the control of the Commander of the Tower over the sprawling mass of Zhatan, as well as guarding and defending the eastern border of the nation; many Black Knights would become, over time, experts of the terrain east of the Cliffs as they aided expeditions into the wastelands. At the centre however, their ethos remained one of a knightly order. </p><p></p><p></p><p>A Black Knight was expected to be humble and helpful to those in need, and to uphold the good of society and faith. Keeping law and order in Zhatan formed part of the duties of any knight stationed in the Tower. Furthermore, a Black Knight remained free of the earthly things that could blind others, seeing the world with the clarity afforded with not being bound by greed or wealth or lands, not being driven by petty desires and employing farsightedness in planning. Black Knights were often praised for being expert tacticians. Unfortunately they still had to obey their religious superiors, and this sometimes led to disputes between the Grand Master and senior clergy. </p><p></p><p></p><p>* * *</p><p></p><p></p><p>The day was growing old; soon they would need to decide to either stop for the evening and rest, or to press on to the monastery even in the increasing gloom. </p><p></p><p></p><p>The lingering magic that Wyshira had cast over Wolf to hold back the poison finally ended. </p><p></p><p></p><p>* * *</p><p></p><p></p><p>Wolf, who had been idly watching the world go past him from the litter, suddenly gave a strangled cough, muscles twitching and spasming as the poison ate into his system once again. </p><p></p><p></p><p>"Oh no! Stop! Stop! Wyshira cried out, halting the progess of the party as it made its slow way along the mountain trail. Wolf's head and limbs began to jerk uncontrollably again, and his face became livid from the poison's renewed assault. </p><p></p><p></p><p>"It's the poison again!" she said, kneeling beside the mercenary and trying to keep him from flinging himself off the litter. It was the only thing she could do for him now, other than pray, which she also did - fervantly and whole-heartedly. </p><p></p><p></p><p><em>Lady! Don't let them win! He is a protector of the weak.... a good man. Don't let the Gilamesh<img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite1" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":)" />tes take him from us!" </em></p><p></p><p></p><p>Kale's heart sank at the sound he heard behind. He didn't want to look. Keeping his eyes on the lengthening shadows, the mercenary waited until they knew more.</p><p></p><p></p><p>* * *</p><p></p><p></p><p>Melisande rode along unusually pensive after Sir Angelo's story. A red dragon who sacrificed himself for some greater purpose--a tiefling who had gone against his demonically tainted nature to serve good--for Zhatan and Klavius, it had been an uphill struggle. For Melisande it should have been downhill, but it felt difficult. She'd been frightened by the Red Talons and their bandits in spite of all the resolve she'd worked up in the last few days, and though the fear had dissipated rapidly when they'd won the battle, it was not gone. She peered apprehensively over her shoulder at the prostrate Wolf. </p><p></p><p></p><p>Now that she had been filled in on his true condition the fear and doubt were coming back in force. That sinking feeling in her gut that the group was going to be stranded in the Sarokeans without his expertise and guidance reappeared from its first acute manifestation the moment he'd fallen from the saddle. She's been afraid for herself and the group them; now she was afraid for Wolf. He was moaning and sweating on the litter, his organs failing under the onslaught of poison. Poor Wolf! If only there was something she could do. There was no sorcery in the world that would help him, though. He was in the hands of healers and their gods alone. </p><p></p><p></p><p>She reached up to clasp the gold pendant of Naskha at her throat and improvised a futile prayer, although she knew that if the combined efforts of Ishrak, Immar and Grumand were of no avail her own pleas to a god she knew little about wouldn't make a difference. <em>Please help him. I don't know much about Wolf but I know he's a good man and if the Red Talons of Gilamesh think he's worth assassinating, isn't he worth saving? </em></p><p></p><p></p><p>"We have to go faster," she said, her voice tight with worry. "Maybe someone should ride ahead with him." Mel looked first at Sir Angelo, who had the best horse of the lot, and then at Kale, who for many reasons was the most deeply concerned with Wolf's fate. </p><p></p><p></p><p>"An excellent suggestion..." Ebri murmured, somewhat distractedly. "Let us go. While there is the possibility of another dose of the ashgar, it carries substantial risks. Speed would serve us better." </p><p></p><p></p><p>Even as the others talked, Wolf continued to twitch and spasm, venomous poison working through his veins, tearing into his nervous system and sending him into strangled coughing. His eyes staring out unseeingly, the veteran began to gasp desperately for air as his own muscles closed up round his throat, veins standing out against his skin. </p><p></p><p>With a death rattle, the last of his life ebbed from him and he slumped, suddenly relaxed once more; the Red Talon's poison had done its work at last, and killed Wolf Kieresane.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Carnifex, post: 1301563, member: 227"] Yes, we're updating once again! While Cazamir and his band of squabbling sages have arrived at a monastery deep in the mountains, preparing to move on after a rest there to the site of an ancient tower that they wish to study, Wolf's Company are in dire straits. More precisely, Wolf himself is, having been severely injured and poisoned by an ambush led by Red Talons out to get him, and the rest of the party are now having to carry him onwards as they head to the nearest place they might get aid, a nearby monastery... Also, they have now been joined by Sir Angelo Dar 'Averask, a Knight Errant initiate of the Order of the Black Knights of Zhatan who helped repel the Red Talon ambush. Asked by Melisande, the young sorceress now intently interested in anything involving knightly orders, codes of honour, and other things that might apply to her newfound sense of [i]Purpose[/i] (OOC: And her level in Paladin :) ), the Black Knight begins to tell of the history of Zhatan... The 'Wolf pack,' as Burl had mentally tagged the group, gathered itself together and prepared to move out, the now concious but still immobile Wolf slung into the litter. They headed off once again, the Black Knight with Sebastion on one side and Melisande on the other, both having shown interest in hearing more of the man's Order. * * * "The Black Knights of Zhatan are, at the core, a religious order," Angelo began, the three riders keeping astride, horses plodding along. "Our origins lie with the dragon Zhatan, sainted warrior of Urazel." The knight told them the tale of Zhatan, an exemplar for the warrior followers of Urazel. In the early years of Huron as a nation, when Urazel had united them, they were beset from many sides by dangers and enemies, especially from in the west, beyond what are now called the Cliffs of Zhatan, where the goblins and giants of the wasteland dwelt as they had continued to do up to the present day. Most threatening to the fledgeling nation was a great gathering of the wasteland dwellers, many thousands upon thousands; sages in later years speculated it was caused by pressures from the far west and the expansion of some empire there. This horde cascaded towards the cliffs, heading towards the central pass - where now the Tower of Zhatan stands guard. Zhatan was a red dragon, a servant of Urazel who had allied with the Huronese and aided them in battle. Unlike many dragons who were arrogant or evil, Zhatan saw great things in the structure of Huron he observed being built, and thought with sadness of it being burned and destroyed to become nothing but dust. He held the pass alone against the horde, letting the garrison flee back to gather the armies that were camped on the Kiur plains. It is recorded that in that battle Zhatan, the mighty red dragon, slew twenty seven thousand foes. When his muscles and flesh gave out, blades and spears and spells tearing his scales and wings, he fought on even then, infused with the power of Urazel. When the armies arrived three days later he was still fighting, and the leaders of the horseman tribes saw the enemy flee, and the dragon finally collapse. The cult of Zhatan had grown strong, and several hundred years ago the Black Knights were founded as an order of templars to help defend the Tower of Zhatan and the pilgrimage routes in the area. They grew, to their embarrassment, quite wealthy. The rich and poor alike made donations from piety and a wish to gain influence with the Church, and the Black Knights success in several battles against raiders brought them the favour of high-up ecclesiastics. Nonetheless the tough life of the Order - a life on which ones own safety was not a concern, but an afterthought to the safety of the Church, Huron and those who wished to live their lives in peace - meant that in numbers it did not grow. Then one of the grand masters many years ago took a chance and ploughed much of the wealth they had accrued but had little need for into the research of a single genius thaumineer-mechanic. The result was Dragon Armour, large, powered suits of metal and weaponry capable of smashing enemy battlelines and crushing foes underfoot. With it, the Knights became one of the most feared and respected military forces on the battlefield anywhere. Angelo spoke of how once he had finished his time as a novice, he would be himself trained in the use of the sacred armour. The Black Knights provided both an additional buttress to the control of the Commander of the Tower over the sprawling mass of Zhatan, as well as guarding and defending the eastern border of the nation; many Black Knights would become, over time, experts of the terrain east of the Cliffs as they aided expeditions into the wastelands. At the centre however, their ethos remained one of a knightly order. A Black Knight was expected to be humble and helpful to those in need, and to uphold the good of society and faith. Keeping law and order in Zhatan formed part of the duties of any knight stationed in the Tower. Furthermore, a Black Knight remained free of the earthly things that could blind others, seeing the world with the clarity afforded with not being bound by greed or wealth or lands, not being driven by petty desires and employing farsightedness in planning. Black Knights were often praised for being expert tacticians. Unfortunately they still had to obey their religious superiors, and this sometimes led to disputes between the Grand Master and senior clergy. * * * The day was growing old; soon they would need to decide to either stop for the evening and rest, or to press on to the monastery even in the increasing gloom. The lingering magic that Wyshira had cast over Wolf to hold back the poison finally ended. * * * Wolf, who had been idly watching the world go past him from the litter, suddenly gave a strangled cough, muscles twitching and spasming as the poison ate into his system once again. "Oh no! Stop! Stop! Wyshira cried out, halting the progess of the party as it made its slow way along the mountain trail. Wolf's head and limbs began to jerk uncontrollably again, and his face became livid from the poison's renewed assault. "It's the poison again!" she said, kneeling beside the mercenary and trying to keep him from flinging himself off the litter. It was the only thing she could do for him now, other than pray, which she also did - fervantly and whole-heartedly. [i]Lady! Don't let them win! He is a protector of the weak.... a good man. Don't let the Gilamesh:)tes take him from us!" [/i] Kale's heart sank at the sound he heard behind. He didn't want to look. Keeping his eyes on the lengthening shadows, the mercenary waited until they knew more. * * * Melisande rode along unusually pensive after Sir Angelo's story. A red dragon who sacrificed himself for some greater purpose--a tiefling who had gone against his demonically tainted nature to serve good--for Zhatan and Klavius, it had been an uphill struggle. For Melisande it should have been downhill, but it felt difficult. She'd been frightened by the Red Talons and their bandits in spite of all the resolve she'd worked up in the last few days, and though the fear had dissipated rapidly when they'd won the battle, it was not gone. She peered apprehensively over her shoulder at the prostrate Wolf. Now that she had been filled in on his true condition the fear and doubt were coming back in force. That sinking feeling in her gut that the group was going to be stranded in the Sarokeans without his expertise and guidance reappeared from its first acute manifestation the moment he'd fallen from the saddle. She's been afraid for herself and the group them; now she was afraid for Wolf. He was moaning and sweating on the litter, his organs failing under the onslaught of poison. Poor Wolf! If only there was something she could do. There was no sorcery in the world that would help him, though. He was in the hands of healers and their gods alone. She reached up to clasp the gold pendant of Naskha at her throat and improvised a futile prayer, although she knew that if the combined efforts of Ishrak, Immar and Grumand were of no avail her own pleas to a god she knew little about wouldn't make a difference. [i]Please help him. I don't know much about Wolf but I know he's a good man and if the Red Talons of Gilamesh think he's worth assassinating, isn't he worth saving? [/i] "We have to go faster," she said, her voice tight with worry. "Maybe someone should ride ahead with him." Mel looked first at Sir Angelo, who had the best horse of the lot, and then at Kale, who for many reasons was the most deeply concerned with Wolf's fate. "An excellent suggestion..." Ebri murmured, somewhat distractedly. "Let us go. While there is the possibility of another dose of the ashgar, it carries substantial risks. Speed would serve us better." Even as the others talked, Wolf continued to twitch and spasm, venomous poison working through his veins, tearing into his nervous system and sending him into strangled coughing. His eyes staring out unseeingly, the veteran began to gasp desperately for air as his own muscles closed up round his throat, veins standing out against his skin. With a death rattle, the last of his life ebbed from him and he slumped, suddenly relaxed once more; the Red Talon's poison had done its work at last, and killed Wolf Kieresane. [/QUOTE]
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