JollyDoc's Kingmaker-Updated 7/4/2011

[JollyDoc]

WRATH OF THE TWICE-BORN

It was touch and go for several tense minutes, but Selena was finally able to break the enchantment laid upon Velox. While she worked, Mox and the others examined the other exits leading from the room where they’d fought the golem. The hallway which the derghodaemon had guarded had ended at another magically locked door, but Mox had run out of spells to remove the enchantment, and so the group was forced to backtrack.

Once Velox was back on his feet, they headed south through one of the sets of doors Mox had previously dealt with. They opened onto another web and mist filled hall, but this one was blessedly empty of demons. A short flight of stairs led them down to a short passage that emerged into huge natural cavern supported by a single, immense pillar of stone. To the west rose a high ridge capped by a small forest of stalagmites. Davrim and Velox were the first out of the tunnel, and so it was they who first spotted the shadowy movement among the stalagmites. When they emerged, they at first appeared to be warriors clad in archaic mail. It was only when they moved into the light that it became apparent that, whatever they may have been in life, they were no longer human. They were mostly skeletal, but still had remnants of moist flesh clinging to their bones. Their armor was pitted and rusted, as were the greatswords that hung at their belts. Each of them clutched a long horn bow in their bony fingers.

The skeletal warriors stepped to the edge of the ridge, and knocked their arrows with an eerie uniformity. Before they could draw back their strings, however, Velox raised his hand and conjured a wall of crackling flame that engulfed them all. Behind him, Selena stepped out of the passage and added her own fiery barrage to the carnage. Half of the warriors collapsed into charred embers. The others, though they were still ablaze, raised their bows and loosed. Their aim was deadly accurate, with arrows taking Davrim, Velox and Stevhan, though none of them critical. That, however, was their last hurrah. A moment later, the flames claimed them as well.
___________________________________________________________

Another set of iron doors led from the cavern to yet another misty, bewebbed passage, which in turn opened into an immense chamber. Two churning fountains took up alcoves on either side, their water cascading down the faces of beautifully rendered maidens as if they were crying for the souls lost in battle. Directly ahead, four rows of intricately carved columns reached deeper into the chamber, resembling armed soldiers kneeling in honor of the massive statue of Gorum at the chamber’s far end. A set of stairs descended into a passageway on the far side. An elderly gentleman stood before the stairs. He was dressed cured hides and feathers, and held a long spear in one hand like a staff.

“I am Zorek,” he intoned gravely, his accent heavy and archaic. “You stand in the temple of the Iron Lord, and I am His chosen guardian. You would not be here had you not proved yourself worthy by surviving His challenges, but I must pose you a final one before you go any further. I will hear your tale, and if I judge it worthy, then you may continue on your way.”
“Has a man calling himself Armag passed this way?” Mox asked.
“That is not for me to say,” Zorek replied. “Perhaps you may find the answer for yourself. Perhaps not. Now…your tale.”
“Well,” Mox began, and she launched into the story of what had brought them to their current position, beginning with the attack on Fort Spears.
Zorek listened impassively until Mox finished. He held her gaze for a moment, and then shook his head sadly.
“Alright,” Mox snarled, “we’ve played it your way. Now it’s time to play it ours. We’re going through that door, and if we have to go through you, so be it!”
Zorek nodded in understanding, then raised his arms and immediately grew to twice his height.
“So be it,” he agreed.

Stevhan drew his blade as he charged towards the priest, but while he was still several feet away, he struck what seemed like an invisible wall. Zorek smiled grimly. Mox grimaced, and then hurled her suffocating magic at Zorek. Nothing happened. Selena followed this with a withering ball of flame. As they dissipated, Zorek was slightly singed.
“This isn’t going as planned,” Velox said aside to Mox.
“Shoot the bastard!” Mox commanded.
Stevhan and Davrim both sheathed their blades and grabbed for their bows. In unison, they loosed a withering salvo of arrows. The shafts struck true, and no less than six of them pierced Zorek’s chest. A moment later, Velox unleashed a blast of searing sunlight. Zorek staggered, and blood poured from his lips which, oddly enough, were quirked in a smile.
“Well…done…,” he gasped.
He then gestured, and all his wounds simply vanished, leaving him hale and whole once more.
“Try again,” he grinned.
“You heard him!” Mox screeched. “Hit him again!”
Stevhan and Davrim fired once more, their aims true, but this time, when Zorek prepared to cast another spell, Mox preempted him, sending a fusillade of acidic arcane bolts at the priest. Zorek recoiled at the assault. As he did, the energy shield surrounding him faltered, and at that moment, Velox rushed in, sword drawn. He struck the priest a mighty blow, sending him crashing to the ground. As Zorek struggled to his feet, Mox struck again, this time with a ball of pure acidic vitriol. Zorek’s flesh began to melt from his body.
“Thank you…warriors…,” he wheezed. “Now…I am free…,”
___________________________________________________________

The final test had been passed. Now nothing stood between the heroes and Armag the Twice-Born. Velox and Davrim rushed down the stairs and shoved the doors open. Flickering braziers cast long shadows across the huge chamber that was revealed, their wavering light gleamed from walls spattered with blood. The air reeked of decay, for the violently hacked bodies of a dozen men lay strewn about the room. A man kneeled on the floor, his back to the doors. A massive blade was grasped in his hands, and it glowed with a hellish crimson light. Between him and the companions stood a row of eight more of the bloody, skeletal warriors. Slowly and deliberately the man stood. He rippled with muscles beneath a breast plate tipped with wicked spikes as he turned towards his enemies. His eyes, beneath his heavy brow, were madness incarnate. As he raised the sword, foam and saliva dripped from his mouth and into his bushy beard.
“Kill!” he growled in a feral voice. “Kill them all!”

As the skeletons lifted their swords and stepped forward, Tungdill raised a wall of fire directly in their path. As they flared alight, the warriors hastily stepped back beyond the flames, and the druid just as quickly dismissed the flames. Velox and Stevhan quickly moved into the breach, just as Selena hurled a fireball directly at Armag. The warlord roared in pain and fury as his skin blistered, but the rage never left his eyes. He stepped forward to meet Stevhan just as the ranger destroyed two of the skeletal fighters with one swing of his blade. Stevhan struggled to parry Armag’s blow, but the massive sword the barbarian bore easily batted his own aside, and carved deeply into the ranger’s shoulder. Stevhan almost imagined he could hear the sword laughing as it soaked in his blood.

As Stevhan staggered back, Velox stepped forward. Armag turned towards him, but as he did so, Velox tangled his own sword with the warlord’s. Armag snarled and jerked his arm back, but when he did, Velox spun away, and his momentum ripped the blade from Armag’s hand and sent it spinning across the room. The oracle then spun back and drove his armored elbow straight into the face of the stunned barbarian. Armag rocked back, and then barked a command at one of his bony minions. The skeleton reached down and retrieved the fallen sword, then moved quickly towards its master. As it came, however, Velox smashed it to flinders, but as it fell, the blade tumbled to Armag’s feet.

Stevhan struggled in vain to staunch the flow of his blood from his arm, but before he could apply a tourniquet, another skeleton lashed out at him. Davrim was quick to come to his comrade’s aid, hacking the automaton apart as it raised its blade again. A moment later, Mox breathed a stream of acid on the remaining skeletons, dissolving them all in one fell swoop. Armag stood alone. The warlord’s eyes flicked towards his weapon, still lying on the ground before him. A moment of doubt flickered across his face, but then he screamed in fury and reached for it. As he did, Stevhan rushed towards him, his sword clutched in his good hand, and brought it crashing down on Armag’s spine. The shattering crack as the bones splintered echoed throughout the chamber. Armag fell, exsanguinating on the floor of his armory, his hand still outstretched towards his sword as he died.
___________________________________________________________

As Davrim’s hand grasped the pommel of Armag’s blade, his mind was filled with a murderous rage, and more hate than he had ever imagined could exist.
‘I am Ovinrbaane!’ a voice shouted into his brain. ‘The Enemy of All Enemies! You shall now be the Iron Lord’s new Chosen! Wield me, and I shall grant you such powers as you have never dreamed of! All that I demand in return is that you slay…them…ALL!!’
“N…no!” Davrim cried aloud as, with a monumental effort of will, he dropped the sword back to the floor.
“What is it?” Velox asked. “What’s wrong?”
“It…it’s alive!” Davrim exclaimed, pointing towards the sword as he backed away.
“Interesting…,” Selena mused. She began walking towards it.
“Don’t touch it!” Davrim cried.
“I don’t intend to,” the witch said.
She murmured a spell, and a translucent, disembodied hand appeared and laid hold of the blade. Then she opened a large sack that hung from her belt, and the hand dropped the sword in.
“It’ll be safe for the time being,” Selena explained. “This is a bag of holding. The inside of it is actually an extradimensional space. We’ll take the sword back with us to Veritas, where I can study it further. Then we can decide what should be done with it.”


EPILOGUE

The heroes returned the daughters of Fort Drelev to their families, amid great joy and celebration. When they took their leave to return to Kardashia, they promised the townsfolk that they would soon return to help the people rebuild. Along the way home, the companions continued their exploration of Hooktongue Slough, dealing with several hostile denizens as they went. At one point, they found themselves between a band of marauding hill giants and a herd of wild horses. Though in fighting and defeating the giants it was not their specific intent to save their horses, their actions nevertheless resulted in that outcome. Thus, they were somewhat taken aback when the stallion of the herd, a coal black specimen that was the finest example of horseflesh any of them had ever laid eyes on, trotted over to them and began to speak. He introduced himself as Windchaser. He explained that he had been awakened by a druid several years ago, and he pledged his eternal gratitude to the group. Specifically, he offered his services as a mount to Velox, who had unintentionally saved his favorite mare from one of the giants. Velox thanked him for his offer, and said he may one day indeed call upon his services.

Kardashia was unchanged when they arrived home, though the people of Veritas were indeed pleased to see their rulers returned. In the weeks that followed, Selena did indeed research the origins of Ovinrbaane thoroughly, and found that it had been specifically created for the original Armag by Gorum himself. In the end, she and Mox determined that it was too dangerous to keep the weapon, and so they arranged for it to be taken to Absalom and given over to the Pathfinders for safe keeping.

In the months that followed, Velox returned to Fort Drelev, and under his guidance, the town was rebuilt, and the people voted to become part of Kardashia. The oracle also paid a visit to Windchaser, and took the stallion up on his offer, but not to become a mere mount. Instead, Velox saw potential in the horse, and began instructing him in the ways of Iomedae. The legend of Kardashia continued to grow, and peace prevailed in the new kingdom for two years. All along, however, unfriendly eyes watched their progress from Pitax, and plans were laid.

 

[R-Hero]

The oracle also paid a visit to Windchaser, and took the stallion up on his offer, but not to become a mere mount. Instead, Velox saw potential in the horse, and began instructing him in the ways of Iomedae.

Oh...can't wait to see how this plays out.

 

[JollyDoc]

Oh...can't wait to see how this plays out.

You've heard of a Paladin's mount? What about a mount who's a paladin??

 

[javcs]

You've heard of a Paladin's mount? What about a mount who's a paladin??

That's ... insane.
Yet so incredibly awesome at the same time.

It will be difficult to wait to see how it plays out.

 

[Joachim]

I toyed with the idea of turning Windchaser into my cohort and give him levels of monk, but that just seemed silly...flurry-of-hooves seems more like something that Monty Python would have come up with. Paladin seemed like a more natural, organic choice. I will be using the 'Divine Defender' mod from the APG to go along with his role as the defender of the herd.

 

[JollyDoc]

BEWARE OF PITAXIANS BEARING GIFTS

“Greetings from His Supreme and Inimitable Magnificence, Castruccio Irovetti, by the grace of the gods the rightful King of Pitax, Marvel of Numeria, Master of Mormouth, and Prince-Regent of the Sellen. It is with great delectation and delight that I greet you, my fellow River Kings. I would be honored if you would accept my invitation to attend the fifth annual Rushlight Tournament as my guests. I know you to be discerning rulers, and trust you would not dare miss such an extravagance, for I plan for this to be the finest Rushlight yet! And to sweeten the pot, as it were, I have secured a mighty magical item, a gold and gemstone rod of lordly might, which I am willing to bestow upon the Kingdom that proves itself by fielding the true Rushlight Champion! Could this champion be one of your own? Please confirm your attendance via this invitation’s courier. I look forward to your attendance!”
-King Castruccio Irovetti of Pitax

Two years had passed since the events of Fort Drelev and the second death of Armag the Twice-Born, and Kardashia was thriving while enjoying a relative peace. To be sure, Mox and her council had not forgotten the slight afforded them by Pitax, but they’d been biding their time, and harnessing their resources. Now, seemingly, their enemy was inviting them to his home, apparently unconcerned that he had for all intents and purposes declared war two years past.

“This is, indeed, an interesting turn of events,” Selena observed. “The Rushlight Tournament has been a prominent tradition of Irovetti’s since he claimed the crown of Pitax. It draws participants from throughout the River Kingdoms. It might be just the opportunity we’ve been looking for. We might find some potential allies in Irovetti’s neighbors.”
Mox pondered this for several moments, then nodded.
“I agree,” the Queen said. “I think it’s high time we paid our Pitaxian friend a diplomatic visit. Send the word out that we leave for Pitax on the morrow.”
___________________________________________________________

As the royal entourage prepared to depart on the following day, Mox received a last minute request for an audience from a local brewer.
“Your Majesty,” the man said as he bowed low. “I am Bixen Libixyten.”
“Yes, master brewer,” Mox nodded. “What is it that you would ask of me? I bid you to make it a speedy request, as I have pressing business in Pitax.”
“Yes, m’lady,” the brewer bowed again. “It is about your upcoming travels that I would speak. The word among the people is that you go to participate in the Rushlight Tournament. As I am sure you are well aware, the finale of the tournament is the Drunken Joust.”
Mox looked at the man blankly. He cleared his throat.
“Ah…yes,” he continued. “Well, it is tradition that during the joust, the competitors are…intoxicated. I humbly request that if you or your armsmen do indeed compete, that you consider my blackberry mead for your drink of choice. It would bring great prestige to my brewery, and in turn, fame to our fair city. I believe that trade revenue such fame would bring in would be a boon to the nation’s economy.”
Mox considered for a moment, and then smiled.
“I believe we can accommodate your request, master brewer,” she said, “and I think I know just the jouster…”
__________________________________________________________

The Rushlight Festival was held at a massive festival ground a dozen miles northeast of the city of Pitax, about half a mile from the southern shore of the Rushlight River itself, on the banks of a minor waterway known as Cutter’s Creek. The grounds were thronged with people, essentially transforming the area into a small town. Wandering merchants jockeyed for space, crying their wares, whether hot from a basket or cool from a cask. Stages with jugglers, minstrels, mummers’ troupes, and trained animals danced and leaped for the attention (and coin) of the crowds that reveled in King Irovetti’s bounty. A coliseum with an attached staging pavilion on one side had been erected on the north shore of Cutter’s Creek. On the opposite side of the coliseum stood the royal pavilion, reserved for Irovetti and his courtiers. Across the creek was the menagerie, an enormous purple pavilion that served as a showplace of tamed horrors and monstrosities from across Golarion, as well as the Royal Blue, a small lake surrounded by grand silken tents reserved for the private use of the visiting dignitaries from the other River Kingdoms. As Mox and her retinue arrived, they were greeted by a Pitax herald who escorted them to one of the pavilions.
“King Irovetti requests the pleasure of your company in the Royal Pavilion at your earliest convenience,” the herald said as he took his leave.
“I can’t wait,” Mox muttered.

The companions settled into their accommodations, and then made their way around the lake and across the creek to Irovetti’s tent. The interior of the pavilion stood in sharp contrast to its relatively plain exterior. Lush red carpets covered the ground and a dais that supported a carved and gilded chair evoked the feel of a throne room, while a haphazard collection of pedestals bearing sculptures and mounted paintings of wildly varying quality and realism suggested a strange sort of art gallery. A small raised stage supporting numerous large musical instruments sat to one side of the pavilion.
Irovetti himself was a handsome, muscular, dark-haired man in deep red velvets. A crown sat comfortably on his brow, and an elegant cloak draped his shoulders. His belt was thick with tools, weapons, and pouches that bespoke an adventuring lifestyle not completely left behind. He also carried two strange pieces of equipment. The first and most impressive was a long staff of unusual metal, one end of which was fitted with thin blades and a spike that periodically shifted and moved with a soft whirring noise. The second was a thin, short rod of strange metal with a single spike at the end. Small circular lights periodically flashed along its length. The king sat upon his thrown, attended by a pair of beautiful women. He smiled warmly as Mox and her allies entered.

“My most illustrious guests!” he greeted them warmly. “I am so eternally and unendingly happy to see that you have safely arrived. Come, my pretties,” he directed the young women, “bring refreshments for these weary travelers. Whether by magic or by shank’s mare, traveling is thirsty work! Drink with me to our continued success and the bonds of brotherhood and friendship that shall be ours!”
The next hour or so was spent in small talk and niceties. Mox had admonished her companions before they had arrived not to make mention of events at Fort Drelev. The time for a reckoning would come, she assured them. For the present, she wanted to simply play nice, bide her time, and gather what information they could. Irovetti seemed content to do the same. He was the consummate host, but the conversation was shallow and inconsequential. At the end of the evening, he wished his guests good luck in the coming games, and bade them good night.
__________________________________________________________

The first day of the tournament was given over to trading, feasting, a preview of the beasts of the travelling menagerie, entertainment, and after sunset, a grand display of fireworks. That evening, the Kardashians were visited by the tournament’s master of ceremonies, Nunzio Arpaia.
“I’ve come to apprise you of the tournament rules, and the nature of the contests,” he said as he entered the tent. “First, though each event has its own rules, there are three that govern the tourney as a whole: harm no spectators, kill no competitors, and don’t get caught cheating. Breaking any of these rules is grounds for disqualifications from that event. The events themselves are an archery contest using longbows, a test of strength using handaxes or greataxes, a boasting contest, and a drunken jousting competition. I respectfully request the names of your individual competitors, and how they wish to be introduced.”
The companions discussed the events for several minutes while Nunzio waited somewhat impatiently.
“I shall participate in the archery competition,” Davrim said finally. “You may introduce me as Davrim the Executioner of Kardashia.”
Nunzio blinked silently at that.
“I’ll take the test of strength,” Stevhan volunteered. “You may call me the Stag Lord.”
Velox spoke last. “I will compete in both the boasting contest and the…drunken joust.” He said this last with a glance askance at Mox, who hid her smile behind her hand. “I will be introduced as the Voice of Iomedae.”
“Very good,” Nunzio bowed slightly. “I leave you to your rest and preparations for the coming games.”
___________________________________________________________

The second day of the Rushlight Tournament was designated for the archery competition.
“The rules are simple,” Nunzio explained to the contestants. “You will all use the bows and arrows provided. You are given six arrows, all of which must be fired in the allotted time of thirty seconds. You have a choice from among three targets, one at a range of 30 feet, one at 220 feet, and one at 550 feet. The first target awards one point per arrow, and the arrow must stick solidly in the target. The second awards three points, and the third five points. A bull’s-eye on any target awards double points. If you fire all of your arrows in less than the allotted time, you will be awarded bonus points. The contestant with the most points when time has expired wins. Any questions?”

The other kingdoms represented among the competitors, besides Kardashia, were Daggermark, Gralton, Mivon, Tymon, and, of course, Pitax. Daggermark’s archer was a roguish-looking fellow named Ilraith Valadhkani, while Gralton’s was a well-muscled half-even woman called Florante Mayank, and Mivon’s was woodsy female elf named Navarathna. Tymon representative was Damanjot, a half-orc who looked as if he had just come in from a week spent in the wilderness, and Pitax’s champion was Villamor Koth, a giant of a man whose physique looked to be carved from iron. Davrim walked with the others to choose his bow and shafts. As his opponents made their selections, something caught the inquisitor’s attention. When Ilraith Valadhkani reached for his arrows, he flicked the sleeve of his tunic ever so slightly, and six adamantium-tipped shafts slid out of it into his hand.
“He’s cheating!” Davrim shouted.
Nunzio whirled around. “What is this nonsense?” he asked.
“Check his arrows!” Davrim pointed. “He pulled them out of his sleeve!”
“Bring them to me!” a voice boomed from the royal box.
Everyone, crowd and competitors alike, turned as one. Irovetti stood at the railing of his seat, his face a stone mask. Quickly, a runner seized Ilraith’s arrows and raced up the coliseum stairs to the King. Irovetti glanced at the shafts, then back at the contestants.
“The Kardashian’s claim is valid!” he declared. “Daggermark has been disqualified!”
The crowd erupted into jeers and taunts as Ilraith left the field in disgrace.

Once the furor died down, the competitors lined up on their marks. First up was Florante Mayank. The half-elf woman fired with deadly precision, loosing her arrows deliberately, and exactly within the time allowed. All of her shots were aimed at the middle green target, and two of them were bull’s-eyes. The crowd roared as her grand total of 30 points was announced.
Mivon’s archer, Navarathna shot second. The elf maid was something of a show-off. She also chose the green target, but she rapid-fired all six of her arrows in just 12 seconds, earning herself a hefty time bonus, but finishing with only 26 points total.
Damanjot, the half-orc from Tymon was next. He took his time lining up his shots, and when he shot, he arced his arrows high, causing them to travel farther, and hitting the red target each time. He to earned 30 points.
Villamor Koth of Pitax also chose the red target, and so strong was his pull on his bow, that each of his arrows sank to the fletchings inside the target. Thirty points was his tally, and thus a three way tie was the result.
Last came Davrim. In his first volley, the inquisitor scored two hits on the green target. He then paused for a moment to speak a brief prayer, asking for Iomedae’s divine favor. It seemed his goddess was not listening. His next two shots struck the red target, but his fifth missed entirely. His last shot struck the red again, but that brought his total only to 21. He lost
Pitax, Tymon, and Gralton each began firing for the tie-breaker, and though all three acquitted themselves well, it was the barbarian Villamor Koth who raised his bow in victory at the finish.
___________________________________________________________

Day three of the tournament was given over to the Test of the Axe. This competition, Nunzio explained, would consist of each contestant being given six logs and their choice of using either a greataxe or a pair of handaxes. In one minute, the competitor had to chop through as many of the logs as possible. Each log destroyed granted 5 points, while each one damaged granted 2. The winner would be the axeman (or woman) with the most points. This time, Stevhan carried the banner for Kardashia, and the ranger chose a greataxe for his chopping. His opponents were Yegina Varudu of Daggermark, a rather small and frail woman dressed in robes, Kilbaskian Ord of Gralton, a gruff human who wielded a pair of handaxes, Dizon Marmada of Mivon, a burly female dwarf, Timsina Siraj of Tymon, a female priest of Gorum, and once again, Villamor Koth of Pitax.

When the horn sounded, each of the competitors began their own preparations. Though Yegina drew much mockery from the crowd due to her small stature, the calls changed to awe as she began weaving several potent spells, causing her first to double in height, and then become hugely muscled and incredibly fast. Kilbaskian Ord whirled like a dervish with his two hatchets, finishing the round by hurling them both at an undamaged log to score a few last second points…and a few jeers from the stands. Dizon Marmada was straightforward in her approach, wielding her greataxe like a seasoned lumberjack. Villamor Koth took a swig from a large drinking horn before he began, and moments later seemed to be moving like greased lightning. The whites of his eyes turned red, and foam and froth spewed from his lips as he hewed away with his axe. Timsina Siraj also called on magic, but it was the divine power of her god. Her axe began to glow, and she too grew in strength and stature as she set about her task. Stevhan also took a draught from a flask before he began, growing in size as other competitors had done. He then stamped one of his enchanted boots, increasing his speed, gripped his axe in both hands, and never looked back.

The crowd cheered wildly at the antics of the contestants, and when the dust and wood chips cleared, the outcome was clear. The sorceress from Daggermark, though impressive in the initial seconds, only managed to destroy two logs, and damage one more, for a total of 12 points. Gralton’s ranger fared better with his two-axe style, but only marginally. He destroyed two logs as well, but damaged three, for a total of 16 points. The dwarf woman from Marmada managed to decimate four logs, earning herself 20 points. Gorum's priestess also scored 20, and Villamor Koth stood proudly over his four destroyed logs, and one damaged, gathering 22 points, and confident of a second victory…until he looked to Kardashia. Stevhan stood over six completely destroyed logs. The crowd was silent for a moment, and then broke into a deafening roar as the newest River Kingdom claimed their first prize.
____________________________________________________________

Day 4 of Rushlight brought the event that the audience had been most anticipating, as well as being one of the most traditional: a test of boasting and storytelling. Nunzio Arpaia explained that each contestant would take a stage in the middle of the coliseum and boast to the fans of one of his greatest accomplishments. The rules stated that the tale must last for five minutes, and consist of an introduction, the tale itself, and an artistic performance to enhance the story. Audience response would determine the overall winner.

First up was Daggermark’s storyteller, Memon Esponde, a rakish chap with a mischievous gleam in his eye. He spun an improbable tale about how he once stole into a temple of Calistria and seduced all seven of its priestesses, including the high priestess, in a single night. When the clergy realized he loved none of them, he escaped on the back of the temple’s sacred giant wasp, with the high priestesses corset as a trophy. It was obvious to all listening that the high priestess in question was none other than Tymon’s contestant, a beautiful elven woman named Mialolessa. The priestess seemed nonplussed by the rogue’s ribald tale.

Next was a rotund dwarf from Gralton by the name of Ankus Depergode. He made up for his apparent awkwardness with a bombastic voice, however. He boasted of how he stowed away on the Seawraith, the ship of the goddess of pirates, Besmara, and of his adventures in the outer sphere. In particular, he bragged of how he won a deva’s wings and a devil’s beard in a single gambling game. Despite the audacity of his claims, the crowd seemed to be particularly excited and delighted by his tale. As Tungdill observed the audience, however, he began to notice a pattern. Several people positioned a key locations throughout the stands were the loudest and most enthusiastic, inspiring those around them into greater cheers. After several moments, the druid noticed one man in particular placed in the midst of the stands. His eyes were closed, and his fingers worked quick gestures as he mouthed to himself quietly. A spellcaster! Tungdill surged to his feet and bulled his way through the throng until he could reached the man. He seized him by the tunic and lifted the frightened fellow from his seat.
“Another cheat!” Tungdill boomed. “He’s manipulatin’ th’people!”
This fact was quickly proven true when several of Irovetti’s heralds cast about for the presence of magic and found many of the onlookers to be enthralled. Ankus panicked and fled from the stage amid the catcalls and jeers of the mob.
“Gralton has been disqualified!” Irovetti announced.

Mivon’s teller came next. She was a well-spoken warrior named Ceala Ravenbrow. Her boast was a tale of blood and danger…how she single-handedly saved a small village in northern Galt from the ravages of a demonic chimera who had wings of fire and a scorpion’s tail. If her story was to be believed, she had lopped off the chimera’s dragon head with her sword, crushed the goat head under a falling rock, and tore the tail from its body and then strangled its remaining lion head in order to kill it…all without spilling the glass of elven absinthe she’d started to drink when the chimera had spotted and attacked her. The crowd was dubious.

Pitax’s representative was a woman of lovely voice called Annamede Belavarah. She was a well-known comedian and social commentator from Pitax City, and was beloved by the populace. She’d also won the boasting competition in every previous year. The story she told was a strange one. It was all about how shed’ spent the past several years spying upon the kingdom of Kardashia, and using her influence to cause general misfortune for its rulers. Her knowledge of various embarrassing failures and problems the kingdom had experienced felt eerily accurate to Mox and her companions. They were the only ones among the audience not amused. Clearly, Annamede was once more the front-runner.

When Kardashia was announced, to the astonishment of the crowd, it was not a person who walked to the stage, but a sleek, ebony stallion. Windchaser mounted the stage gracefully, and when he opened his mouth to speak, the crowd erupted in disbelief.
“It is my distinctive pleasure,” Windchaser boomed, “to announce to you the greatest general the River Kingdoms have ever known! I give you the Voice of Iomedaeeeeee….Veeeeeelox!”
The crowd went wild as the oracle emerged, bedecked as he was in golden armor that shined with light of the sun, robes of deepest crimson and brilliant purple draped across his shoulders. Numerous badges of honor bedecked his chest, and the jewels that gleamed within them were dazzlingly bright in the noon-day light.
Velox bowed deeply to the crowd, and with mock-respect towards Irovetti, eliciting laughter and cheers from the onlookers. He then launched into the tale of Fort Drelev, and how the innocent folk there had been duped and betrayed by an unholy alliance between their evil overlord and his savage barbaric allies the Tiger Lords, as well as a ratty band of mercenaries of dubious skill. He spoke derisively of their lack of character and skill as he and his companions invaded the town and the keep, slaying the despot and his whores, as well as destroying to a man the ragtag army who had obviously been in the employ of some scurrilous cad of questionable parentage. He finished his story with the tale of how he and his companions had pursued the second-coming of Armag to the tomb of his ancestor, defeated the tests of Gorum, and faced the warlord and his undead minions in mortal combat. This last part he illustrated by dancing a complex performance simulating the battle itself, ending with Armag being disarmed of his legendary blade, and then having his spine severed. The audience was mesmerized, and when he’d finished his story, the roar of approval could be heard for miles around. Kardashia had won again, and was now tied with Pitax for first place.

 

[carborundum]

Oooooh, sneaky! And awesomely kick-ass of course

 

[JollyDoc]

Sunday Teaser (SH excerpt to be posted in 2 weeks)


Mox's consort dead?? Stevhan's animal companion dead?? Mox pregnant??? What the Hell's going on around here??

 

[WarEagleMage]

Further update: Armies march across the Stolen Lands. Volleys of arrows darken the skies and centaur lancers thunder across the battlefield. Giants, wyverns, trolls, oh my! Fortunately for the PC's they have some Gen Con Axis & Allies tournament semifinalists at the helm... Can the walls of Pitax stand up to the might of the Kardashians? And what of Pitax's nefarious leader? Hiding from justice will only delay the inevitable - no, not that kind of Invevitable.

 

[JollyDoc]

WAR OF THE RIVER KINGS

“You know I’m not comfortable with this, don’t you?” Velox asked.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Mox replied innocently. “It’s not like you’ve never ridden into combat before.”
The queen and the general stood at one end of the jousting lists that had been erected in the coliseum. It was midnight, yet the stands were full of revelers and spectators. The other jousters were milling around as well, waiting for the even to start.
“That’s not what I mean,” Velox snapped. “It’s not the jousting part that bothers me, it’s the ‘drunken’ part.”
Mox waved his complaint away. “You’re such an uptight stick-in-the-mud,” she said. “It’s all in the name of fun, and all the participants will be drunk. From the looks of things, most of the fans are too. Besides, with your lack of experience, I don’t think it will take much drink to qualify you.”
Velox shook his head. “Fine,” he said. “Give me the flask.”

The Midnight Joust was the final event of the Rushlight Tournament, and the many of the fans looked forward to it, as it promised the best chance at seeing the competitors actually hurt each other. The joust itself would take place in three stages. The first would consist of each of the contestants, with the exception of the previous year’s champion, jousting against a Pitax Warden. The stage would continue until only two competitors were left. The second stage would involve those two facing off against each other, and the final stage would be the winner versus the previous champion, which was none other than Pitax’s own Villamor Koth.

One by one the jousters took to their mounts, some of them a bit more clumsily than others, depending on the amount they had imbibed. The Warden, on the other hand, seemed cold sober. Even so, the sheer skill of the individual kingdoms’ representatives far surpassed that of the soldier, and he was unseated again and again. Finally, however, the luck of the rider from Tymon, Damanjot, the same half-orc who’d competed in the archery competition, ran out, and he was knocked from his horse to the roar of the crowd. The next competitor unhorsed was Gralton’s champion, a knight named Sir Briannel Paulson, and the third was Khristel Cotoio, a warrior from Mivon. That left Velox and Daggermark’s rider, fierce female named Chantal Urena, to face off in the second stage.

Little did Velox know, as he mounted up for the second round, that Windchaser had also decided to partake of a bit of the Libixyten mead that had been sent along from Veritas. Consequently, the stallion reared eagerly and pawed at the air as he faced his opponent on the far side of the lists.
“Whoa!” Velox hissed, his head already swimming. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Just ready to show this nag what a true stallion can do!” the horse laughed. “Let’s ride!”
With no urging from Velox, Windchaser hurtled down the lists. He was already halfway down before Chantal Urena could even get her mount moving. By the time the jousters met, Windchaser’s momentum was unstoppable. Velox’s lance struck Chantal like a battering ram, and sent the woman flying. She hit the ground unconscious, and the crowd sounded like a tornado with the ferocity of their applause. Velox would be advancing to the championship round.

“Look at that ape!” Windchaser taunted as he glared across the field at Villamor Koth. “I’m surprised he can mount anything other than his sister!”
“What’s wrong with you?” Velox snapped. “I’m barely able to keep my own seat as it is! That mead is potent!”
“Amateur!” Windchaser snorted. “Just leave everything to me!”
“Ladies and Gentlemen!” Nunzio announced from the center of the arena. “This will be the final competition of the Rushlight Tournament, and it will be for the overall championship! As of this moment, the kingdoms of Kardashia and Pitax are tied! So let’s hear it for our challenger, Velox of Iomedae, and our reigning champion, Villamor Koth of Pitax!”
The crowed redoubled its roar and the tension mounted.
“On my mark!” Nunzio called. “Ride!”
“Llllllllettsss get ready to rummmmbllllle!” Windchaser roared as he surged ahead into a full gallop.
Villamor Koth was quick of the mark as well, however. At the last moment, just before the two combatants met, Koth lowered his lance just a fraction, and when he struck, the lance head pierced Velox’s mail between the plates, and plunged deep into his flesh. He rocked back in his saddle, and almost fell. It was only Windchaser’s excellent agility that kept him in the saddle. Still, when he reached the far end of the lists, he was bleeding profusely.
“Did you see that?” Windchaser snarled. “The bastard did that on purpose! Next pass, run him through!”
“No…,” Velox groaned. “I won’t stoop to that. I’ll win fairly, or not at all.”
“Humans!” Windchaser snorted. “It’s no wonder you only settle for one mate!”
Velox turned and readied himself for the second pass. Windchaser leaped forward, and Villamor Koth came at a full charge. Velox could see the barbarian had lowered his lance again, and this time was aiming it for the oracle’s heart. At the last moment, Velox twisted in the saddle and took the lance tip in his side. He didn’t move his own lance however, and it struck Koth full in the chest. The big man reeled and overbalanced, crashing to the ground. The crowd went wild at the stunning upset. Villamor Koth got up slowly and dusted himself off. He nodded once at Velox, but his eyes did not convey congratulations. Instead, they promised a second meeting some other day.
___________________________________________________________

With the end of the Midnight Joust, King Irovetti and his master of ceremonies took the field, and invited all of the contestants to join them as they awarded the winning River Kingdom, Kardashia, the grand prize…the promised Rod of Lordly Might. Once the ceremony ended, the crowd dispersed quickly, eager either to attend one of the many post-tournament celebrations, or to get some much-needed rest. For the Kardashians, it was the latter, for in the morning, it would be time to return home.
____________________________________________________________


Veritas was in flames. The journey from Pitax to Kardashia had been instantaneous for the companions via Selena’s magic, but when they arrived in their capital city, it was to find total chaos. People were screaming and crying in the streets, militia rushed about trying to keep some semblance of order, and many buildings burned.
“Soldier!” Velox shouted as he seized a militiaman by the arm. “Report! What’s happened here?”
“Sir!” the young soldier snapped off a salute to his general. “We’ve been attacked!”
“Attacked?” Velox snapped. “By whom?”
“Trolls, Sir!” the soldier replied. “And dragons, and warriors from Pitax, all working together!”
Velox let the man go, and turned to Mox and the others.
“That bastard!” Mox hissed. “It was all an elaborate ruse to draw us away from home! He planned this all along!”
“And we played right into his hands,” Davrim shook his head.
“Yet it’s Irovetti who will come to regret this day for the rest of his short life!” Mox spat. “I swear it!”
_________________________________________________________

As it turned out, the actual damage to the city was much less than had originally appeared. Several buildings had been damaged, and a few actually destroyed, but the death toll had been limited to a few dozen. The attack had been more of a hit-and-run than a full-scale assault. The marauders had indeed been a combined force of trolls, regular army from Pitax and, as it turned out, wyverns, not dragons. The entire attack had lasted barely an hour, and then the armies had retreated back into the grasslands. The companions lent their exceptional abilities to quickly putting the city back to rights, and in the days that followed, the fears of the populace were allayed by the reassurances of Mox that the declaration of war by Pitax would be answered in kind. Yet time was short. As each day passed, rumors of raids by the invading army on smaller towns and villages continued to grow. Volunteers from across the kingdom flooded into Veritas, answering the call to arms, yet Mox knew that even more forces would be needed. She sent word by couriers to the far corners of Kardashia, and due to the goodwill fostered by her reign, her call was answered. From the eastern lands of the Nomen, Aecora Silverfire sent 1,000 of her finest centaur warriors, while from the north, the Sootscale kobolds sent 1,000 skirmishers. All swore their fealty to Mox and vowed to serve her unto death. Velox and Davrim each took command of half the centaur outriders, while Selena volunteered to lead the kobolds. Mox herself rode forth at the head of 1,000 Kardashian soldiers. Within a week of the assault on Veritas, the forces of Kardashia set out to rid their homeland of the foreign scourge.

The two armies met shortly after dawn on a beautiful summer’s day. On one side of the field of battle stood the forces of Pitax: battle-hardened soldiers shoulder-to-shoulder with brutish trolls while above them giant wyverns swooped and dove on their leathery wings. Facing them, mounted militia, wolf-riding kobolds, and savage centaurs stood grim-faced and fearless. For just a moment, an eerie silence reigned. The wind was still, and no birds called. A moment later, horns sounded and battle cries rang out. Velox’s centaur warriors drew back their bows as one, and then released a flight of arrows that momentarily blotted out the sun. As the arrows fell towards the massive trolls, the oracle himself brought his own powers to bear. At his call, massive walls of fire sprang up in wide circles around the giants, hemming them in and keeping them bunched as the arrow swarm fell among them. They fell in scores, and most of them did not rise again.

Davrim’s centaur contingent added their own arrows to the flight, but theirs were aimed high, where the wyverns circled the field. The shafts tore through the wings of the creatures, sending them spiraling to the ground. As they fell, Selena ordered her kobolds forward, summoning up a cyclonic wind storm that prevented the wyverns from taking to the air again as she did so. The fierce little warriors charged in atop their wolves, driving swords and spears into the downed dragons before they could recover. Unfortunately for the kobolds, trolls had the inconvenient habit of regenerating. While the Sootscales were finishing off the wyverns, many of the trolls lurched to their feet and began tearing into the kobolds.

At Mox’s command, Davrim and Velox sent their centaurs charging into the fray. The Kardashian soldiers rode hot on their heels, all three contingents heading directly towards the Pitax regulars. Mox sat astride her mount on the hilltop overlooking the battlefield, but the Queen was not content to lead from afar. She raised her hands above her head, and as she spoke, fire began raining down from the sky among the Pitaxians, exploding all around them and sending hundreds of men flying and scattering like leaves on the wind. The centaurs then rode into the soldiers like waves crashing upon a beach. The Kardashian soldiers behind them diverted their charge to put down the trolls once and for all. Sadly, it was already too late for the Sootscale kobolds. The Kardashians took the time light torches and set the trolls ablaze before they moved to join the centaurs, insuring that the giants would never rise again.

As the combined centaur and human forces fell among them, the Pitaxian formations faltered and broke. Their general, a gigantic, blue-skinned creature, tried to rally them, but to no avail. They were in full route, but as they fled, the centaurs loosed their arrows again, cutting them down to a man. Yet their general turned into a cloud of mist as the Kardashians charged towards him, and vanished into the sky. Mox watched the commander’s retreat as she spurred her horse down the hill to join her troops.
“You have served your country and your kinsmen with honor and valor!” she shouted as she rode before the warriors. “Many have given their lives here today, and thus earned a place in the annals of Kardashia’s history! The Sootscale tribesmen, in particular, acquitted themselves as heroes on this field of battle, and let no one, from this day forward, speak anything but praise for the little folk!”
With a voice like thunder, both human warriors and centaur cheered mightily at that.
“Yet do not think our work done here today!” Mox continued. “We have repelled the invaders from our lands, but this affront shall not go unanswered! On the morrow, we ride for Pitax, and we shall show their so-called bandit king the mortal error in judgment he has made! We ride to wrath…to ruin…and the red dawn!”
_________________________________________________________

The next morning, as the others led the troops across Hooktongue Slough, Mox traveled ahead to Fort Drelev. By the time the army arrived, she had managed to raise an enormous militia among the people there, to replace the loss of the Sootscales. Before the forces moved out, however, a rider from Veritas arrived in town, breathless, exhausted, and demanding to see the Queen.
“What news?” Mox asked as the courier was brought before her.
“I bring word from your Master of Espionage, my Lady,” the man huffed as he struggled to regain his breath.
“Leaf?” Mox asked. “Continue!”
“His sources have brought word to him of a plot by Irovetti to develop a new weapon to be used against Kardashia,” the courier said. “The weapon is a horn that is rumored to be able to create clouds of killing fog. Reports are that it is being built in a remote ruin in the Branthlend Mountain foothills called Whiterose Abbey.”
“I’ve heard of the place,” Davrim said. “It was built by the church of Cayden Cailean, and was renowned for the rich and potent wine produced by its priests, but it’s been abandoned for decades. Rumor has it that the abbot was murdered, and all the brethren poisoned by the abbey’s gardener for some slight or another. It was also said that a beautiful water spirit dwelt in a pool somewhere below the abbey, and that is was she who enabled the priests to brew such fine spirits.”
“Fascinating,” Mox said flatly. “I’m only interested in who’s there now. Tomorrow morning, Tungdill and Stevhan will lead the army into the Glenebon Uplands while the rest of us will investigate this abbey to see if there’s any truth to these rumors. Now, see to the courier’s needs and prepare the soldiers to move out at dawn.”
________________________________________________________

True to her word, at dawn of the following day, Mox gathered Selena, Velox and Davrim. Selena had the group join hands as she spoke an incantation which transformed them all into ephemeral, misty shapes, and then whisked them into the sky, traveling as fast as the wind. Instead of days to traverse the expanse of the Uplands, it took them only hours. They found Whiterose Abbey perched upon a lonely hill, but it looked as if it had not been inhabited for years. They didn’t investigate further, for if Selena ended the spell, she would not be able to cast it again for another day. Instead, she carried them on a circular journey across the lands of Pitax, scouting out Irovetti’s forces. Along the way they passed over the wreckage of what was once a small town, and was currently an aerie for almost one-hundred wyverns. In the southern Glenebon Hills, they spotted a small army of what appeared to be hill giants and enormous wooly mammoths. Still further south, they spied an enormous force of human warriors under the banner of the Tiger Lord barbarians. Finally, they reached the city of Pitax itself, only to find it well fortified with both regular army as well as two forces of trolls. They rejoined their own army by nightfall, and Mox informed the other commanders of what they’d seen.
“We’ll hold the forces here on the border for the next day or two,” she said. “Whiterose Abbey did indeed seem uninhabited, but it is my feeling that there is more there than meets the eye. We shall all journey there tomorrow.”