KidCthulhu's Scarred Land story hour
Iron Chef BBQ
First Post
Fade said:
He did, and I've been keeping it up to date. Unfortunately, it's a .doc file right now and is very large. We're working on finding a place to post it on line so that we can give people the url instead of sending a huge file. We'll keep you posted on progress.
Chef.
Graywolf-ELM
Explorer
Iron Chef BBQ said:
How large is it? Did you find a place to upload it?
GW
Iron Chef BBQ
First Post
The doc is 745 KB, and I'm embarrassed to report that I've done as much work on finding a place to upload it as I have on writing the next installment of the story hour.
Graywolf-ELM
Explorer
Iron Chef BBQ said:
I'm checking with out Webmaster to see if he would mind hosting it on our local server for people who want to download it.
GW
Iron Chef BBQ
First Post
Terry "finds" a missive (run of 02-03-04)
Later that evening Terry wanders back to Kieran’s office. After some brief rummaging around she finds a mid-sized chest crammed full of papers. After a quick scan she surmises that he is keeping a journal of sorts from which to write a book. She carefully removes one long entry. One page missing from this jumble will hardly be noticed. Silently she creeps back to the inn.
The rest of the group has gathered in the common room of the inn for a light meal and a few drinks. Marja willingly begins reading the pilfered letter to the group:
May 15
I shall set pen to paper to record the momentous and historic events that are about to transpire, for I’m sure they will be of great interest to all good folk of the kingdom in the years to come. Under the glorious reign of the king, Taren V, children will sit with rapt attention to hear this tale read by the grizzled veteran who fought to restore his majesty. Townsfolk will assemble on Coronation Day and hear the tale read with proud tears in their eyes and joy in their grateful hearts. The words I record here will be the very…
But I get ahead of myself, in my zeal to tell the tale.
To begin, dear reader, I shall introduce your humble Chronicler. I am Sir Hugh Kieran, first sonne of an ancient and noble house, of late fallen on hard times. I am a military man by trade, and words do not come easily to we rough, gruff soldierly types.
I began my career with the Army of Vesh. The Army has fallen greatly from the glory it knew when my ancestors fought the titan hordes, and stood beside the last king as he breathed his last in defense of the nation. Common men, peasants of little breeding, sons of tradesmen, and women of all things! Are given positions of command, while those of breeding, those whose birthright it is to command are denied the rank and privileges granted them by the gods. Were it not for the truculence and incompetence of my men, their stubborn unwillingness to obey my orders, my cunning ruse would have won me the day and (long sentence, heavily scratched out).
May 16
I was forced to retire early last evening; the recurrence of a troublesome headache made mine eyes too blurry to write. But spare no thoughts of sympathy for your chronicler, dear reader. My eyes are clear enough to comprehend the honor done to me.
I have received a secret missive, from one who has given my every earnest proof that he is indeed the long hidden scion of the royal family. Rumors have run, and stories have been told since I was a boy that there was indeed a royal son, conceived on the eve of his father’s death, and delivered by Madriel from his dead mother’s womb. Those who believed these stories were thought crackpots and lackwits, and hope slowly died in the people of Vesh, along with all reverence for right and good.
But, and my fingers tremble with joy as I write this, hope is born anew! Let the clarion sound, for our King is found, and with his coming justice and righteousness shall be returned to us.
I was ordered to destroy his missive, so I cannot enclose it here for posterity. But every word of it is burned in my memory. He recalled my family’s service to his in years past. Knew of my disquiet with the disgraceful state of the country, spoke of his great and glorious plan to return peace and right to Vesh. Oh, that that happy day comes soon. And Oh, that I have been worthy to play a small part in his plans.
Is not his wisdom made manifest by his order for secrecy and discretion? Until he has amassed sufficient forces to take the kingdom, those jumped up merchants, degraded mongrels and thick muscled sword wavers who call themselves the nobility of Vesh would certainly take steps to destroy all my our fondest hopes.
June 9
There is little doubt that His Majesty’s plan is subtle and wise. I am to serve him by drawing all attention away from His forces gathering in the southeast. There, in the Bad Lands, they will train and make ready for the coming struggle. Should the noble warriors of the King be discovered beforetimes, the plan will certainly fail. But discovery can come in two guises. Should I pull my guards away from the area, there will certainly be suspicion, And if there should be no patrol, that would also arouse suspicion…
It is a treacherous path I must tread, and the balance that must be struck is a delicate one.
July 23
Lieutenant Rufus has questioned me again about the loss of men on the border patrols. He is of a good family, but I begin to wonder if his connection with the dirty work we do is tainting him. A man of his station should find interaction with the criminal element below him. Let the patrolmen make the arrests, if arrests are needed. Well-drilled and well-ordered troops are the purview of the officer, not crime and the sordid world of poverty and villainy.
Oh, how I long for my army days. Once, while patrolling with my troops…
August 9
How dare they question me? My own troopers have asked me about the men lost. As if a few lives mattered in the glorious work my unwitting me do! And I am deeply shocked that my officers keep such shoddy discipline that the men dare to question me, their better by birth and divine mandate…
Later that evening Terry wanders back to Kieran’s office. After some brief rummaging around she finds a mid-sized chest crammed full of papers. After a quick scan she surmises that he is keeping a journal of sorts from which to write a book. She carefully removes one long entry. One page missing from this jumble will hardly be noticed. Silently she creeps back to the inn.
The rest of the group has gathered in the common room of the inn for a light meal and a few drinks. Marja willingly begins reading the pilfered letter to the group:
THE RISE OF THE KING
Being the True and Accurate Account of the Return of Taren the Fifth
Rightful King of Vesh
By hisTrusted Liege
Invaluable Confort
Friend at Arms
Humble Chronicler and Advisor
Major Sir Hugh Kieran
Being the True and Accurate Account of the Return of Taren the Fifth
Rightful King of Vesh
By his
Invaluable Confort
Friend at Arms
Humble Chronicler and Advisor
Major Sir Hugh Kieran
May 15
I shall set pen to paper to record the momentous and historic events that are about to transpire, for I’m sure they will be of great interest to all good folk of the kingdom in the years to come. Under the glorious reign of the king, Taren V, children will sit with rapt attention to hear this tale read by the grizzled veteran who fought to restore his majesty. Townsfolk will assemble on Coronation Day and hear the tale read with proud tears in their eyes and joy in their grateful hearts. The words I record here will be the very…
But I get ahead of myself, in my zeal to tell the tale.
To begin, dear reader, I shall introduce your humble Chronicler. I am Sir Hugh Kieran, first sonne of an ancient and noble house, of late fallen on hard times. I am a military man by trade, and words do not come easily to we rough, gruff soldierly types.
I began my career with the Army of Vesh. The Army has fallen greatly from the glory it knew when my ancestors fought the titan hordes, and stood beside the last king as he breathed his last in defense of the nation. Common men, peasants of little breeding, sons of tradesmen, and women of all things! Are given positions of command, while those of breeding, those whose birthright it is to command are denied the rank and privileges granted them by the gods. Were it not for the truculence and incompetence of my men, their stubborn unwillingness to obey my orders, my cunning ruse would have won me the day and (long sentence, heavily scratched out).
May 16
I was forced to retire early last evening; the recurrence of a troublesome headache made mine eyes too blurry to write. But spare no thoughts of sympathy for your chronicler, dear reader. My eyes are clear enough to comprehend the honor done to me.
I have received a secret missive, from one who has given my every earnest proof that he is indeed the long hidden scion of the royal family. Rumors have run, and stories have been told since I was a boy that there was indeed a royal son, conceived on the eve of his father’s death, and delivered by Madriel from his dead mother’s womb. Those who believed these stories were thought crackpots and lackwits, and hope slowly died in the people of Vesh, along with all reverence for right and good.
But, and my fingers tremble with joy as I write this, hope is born anew! Let the clarion sound, for our King is found, and with his coming justice and righteousness shall be returned to us.
I was ordered to destroy his missive, so I cannot enclose it here for posterity. But every word of it is burned in my memory. He recalled my family’s service to his in years past. Knew of my disquiet with the disgraceful state of the country, spoke of his great and glorious plan to return peace and right to Vesh. Oh, that that happy day comes soon. And Oh, that I have been worthy to play a small part in his plans.
Is not his wisdom made manifest by his order for secrecy and discretion? Until he has amassed sufficient forces to take the kingdom, those jumped up merchants, degraded mongrels and thick muscled sword wavers who call themselves the nobility of Vesh would certainly take steps to destroy all my our fondest hopes.
June 9
There is little doubt that His Majesty’s plan is subtle and wise. I am to serve him by drawing all attention away from His forces gathering in the southeast. There, in the Bad Lands, they will train and make ready for the coming struggle. Should the noble warriors of the King be discovered beforetimes, the plan will certainly fail. But discovery can come in two guises. Should I pull my guards away from the area, there will certainly be suspicion, And if there should be no patrol, that would also arouse suspicion…
It is a treacherous path I must tread, and the balance that must be struck is a delicate one.
July 23
Lieutenant Rufus has questioned me again about the loss of men on the border patrols. He is of a good family, but I begin to wonder if his connection with the dirty work we do is tainting him. A man of his station should find interaction with the criminal element below him. Let the patrolmen make the arrests, if arrests are needed. Well-drilled and well-ordered troops are the purview of the officer, not crime and the sordid world of poverty and villainy.
Oh, how I long for my army days. Once, while patrolling with my troops…
August 9
How dare they question me? My own troopers have asked me about the men lost. As if a few lives mattered in the glorious work my unwitting me do! And I am deeply shocked that my officers keep such shoddy discipline that the men dare to question me, their better by birth and divine mandate…
Iron Chef BBQ
First Post
A night on the town (run of 02-03-04, pt 2)
“A knife between the ribs would let out all that hot air,” muses Terry.
“A better idea would be a drag through the streets to public humiliation,” chimes in Caerwyn.
Over the next several hours they hash out several plans. None of them seem to completely satisfy. As they talk Marja moves around the table braiding and updoing all the women’s hair. Terry ducks under the table to avoid her, but Marja merely shrugs and moves on to Lucre who is anxious to have his beard braided with ribbons.
The plans range from taking Rufus into the Badlands to investigate, having Kel try to suck up to Kieran and sending Kieran messages through Kalina in hawk form with the command, “respond through the usual channels.” Marja remembers that the man with the spider tattoo mentioned two people: one in the military, the other close to the Duke. Perhaps this guy isn’t much more than a patsy and isn’t worth wasting time.
Borin cautions that nothing should be done until after they see what this evening brings, and they find they can all agree on that.
In preparations for the evenings festivities Lucre heads down to the baths while Terry pulls out her sewing kit and spruces up dresses for the other women. Marja pulls a beautiful green velvet dress out of her pack. It’s regal and exquisite with a very expensive look. “I think Kira should wear it. She’ll need to make an impression on the Duke, but,” she added looking over at Kira’s slender body and back at her own curves, “it will need to be taken in a little.” Marja is still dejected from her encounter with Kieran. She’s never even worn the dress, but can’t get up the energy to wear it herself. Yet still she has some small sorrow in handing it over. Terry gathers up all the available frocks and sets to work. She even manages to baste together a new vest for Lucre. As Kira watches her work she chimes in, “Perhaps you can ad a jaunty tam-o-shanter, that’s a festive hat.” Terry’s fingers fly through the work tucking and letting out, sewing festive ribbons onto drabber dresses, and in a heart beat she is handing back the frocks. She hands Marja back her green gown. “But I meant this for Kira,” Marja protests. Terry says nothing, but thinks to herself that the cute and perky Kira was meant for satin and bright ribbons. It’s the soft and green-eyed Marja who can carry off royal velvet. She did alter a few surprises into the once noble dress, however, and Marja finds herself gazing into a mirror at a very low-cut cleavage. “I hope this doesn’t make me look too ‘common’,” she is finally able to laugh.
Through all this Kel and Borin sit eating, doing their best to ignore the fussing and primping and talking strategy. Caerwyn sits at the bar trying to find out if there are any local “witches” or other crazy old ladies who live in the area. No one seems to have any information.
By 10 o’clock everyone is ready to go.
It’s a quiet walk through town. All the shops are closed up, not at all like bustling Vesh which seems to never sleep. Finally they approach a neighborhood of houses. They find a home with a tall fence all around and a bouncer standing at the gate wearing a medallion. This is Vignor’s Place.
Terry falls away from the group. She intends to wander in and out most of the night. They watch in awe as she slips unnoticed by the bouncer. Marja, Kalina and Lucre go in next. Lucre, his charisma boosted, pretends not to speak common so that people will talk in front of him. Marja “translates” between him and Kalina effortlessly slipping between common and Dwarvish. Marja has no trouble getting them past the bouncer, even before she mentions Harnet’s name. He let’s them pass into a marble courtyard. From there they notice stables, a small guard house and a three-story home with stone steps leading up to large double doors. Two large men in livery are standing on either side, and they open the doors with a bow as the three ascend the stairs.
Stepping through the doorway, they leave the quiet of the courtyard and walk into a wall of sounds. Music and voices mix in a large room almost completely taken up by a wrap-around bar. Off to the right is a room with tables where people, mostly men, are sitting playing cards. There is a large staircase at the back, but the top is dark, and they can’t see where it leads.
Marja sidles up to the bar. An attractive young man wipes the counter in front of her. “Yes, madame?” “What’s the drink of the house?” she asks, her eyes wide with mock awe at the place. “It’s called a Bloody Nose. Would you like to try it?” True to form the slightly inebriated man standing to Marja’s left insists that she would and indicates that it be put on his tab. “How does she do that,” whispers Kalina to Lucre, who quickly remembers that he’s not supposed to understand so he doesn’t laugh. Kalina strides up next to Marja. “And get me an ale,” she orders. Lucre also strides up to the bar, but finds that he can’t see over it. “And get me a box,” he barks in Dwarvish.
Kalina spots Terry mingling with another group, and she points her out to the other two. About 10 minutes later the others come in just as a tall, barrel-chested, bald man comes down the stairs. He’s dressed in a black tunic and shiny black trousers. This must be Vignor.
Marja picks up her drink and is about to move in when Kira beats her to it so she turns back around and listens in as best she can. “How’d you like a bloody nose?” Vignor asks with a laugh. He talks a lot, but says very little. He does know that the Duke is expected tonight. The Duke is hard to entertain, but he has a surprise for him, an expensive surprise.
Lucre chats with another dwarf, a jewel trader who laments having left Borok Torn and stone work. Lucre, needing to get away to other conversations, tries to bore him with a discussion of clan structure and loses him on “Third son of…”
Vignor relates a story to Kira about the Duke betting on a cat and two bowls of cream He bet lots of money on that silly wagers. Kira makes a mental not to talk to Kalina about that!
Kel and Caerwyn are standing with two pretty, and very young, women who are giggling about how they snuck out of the house and how shiny the two men’s armor is. Terry is standing right behind them engaged in quiet conversation with a non-descript man who is also hard to notice.
Borin wanders through the gaming room looking at the tables. It wasn’t long ago that he was running a place not unlike this, but none of these tables have Enkili symbols anywhere he notes. He finds the basement stairs and wanders down.
Kira notices Lionell come through the door. He is attending another young man in his twenties. He is sunken-chested and sallow with a weak chin, bright eyes and thinning strawberry-blond hair. He is wearing an elaborate tunic with ruffles, velvet hose and good shoes. Everyone briefly rises as he enters, and with a careless wave he ushers them all to be seated again.
“A knife between the ribs would let out all that hot air,” muses Terry.
“A better idea would be a drag through the streets to public humiliation,” chimes in Caerwyn.
Over the next several hours they hash out several plans. None of them seem to completely satisfy. As they talk Marja moves around the table braiding and updoing all the women’s hair. Terry ducks under the table to avoid her, but Marja merely shrugs and moves on to Lucre who is anxious to have his beard braided with ribbons.
The plans range from taking Rufus into the Badlands to investigate, having Kel try to suck up to Kieran and sending Kieran messages through Kalina in hawk form with the command, “respond through the usual channels.” Marja remembers that the man with the spider tattoo mentioned two people: one in the military, the other close to the Duke. Perhaps this guy isn’t much more than a patsy and isn’t worth wasting time.
Borin cautions that nothing should be done until after they see what this evening brings, and they find they can all agree on that.
In preparations for the evenings festivities Lucre heads down to the baths while Terry pulls out her sewing kit and spruces up dresses for the other women. Marja pulls a beautiful green velvet dress out of her pack. It’s regal and exquisite with a very expensive look. “I think Kira should wear it. She’ll need to make an impression on the Duke, but,” she added looking over at Kira’s slender body and back at her own curves, “it will need to be taken in a little.” Marja is still dejected from her encounter with Kieran. She’s never even worn the dress, but can’t get up the energy to wear it herself. Yet still she has some small sorrow in handing it over. Terry gathers up all the available frocks and sets to work. She even manages to baste together a new vest for Lucre. As Kira watches her work she chimes in, “Perhaps you can ad a jaunty tam-o-shanter, that’s a festive hat.” Terry’s fingers fly through the work tucking and letting out, sewing festive ribbons onto drabber dresses, and in a heart beat she is handing back the frocks. She hands Marja back her green gown. “But I meant this for Kira,” Marja protests. Terry says nothing, but thinks to herself that the cute and perky Kira was meant for satin and bright ribbons. It’s the soft and green-eyed Marja who can carry off royal velvet. She did alter a few surprises into the once noble dress, however, and Marja finds herself gazing into a mirror at a very low-cut cleavage. “I hope this doesn’t make me look too ‘common’,” she is finally able to laugh.
Through all this Kel and Borin sit eating, doing their best to ignore the fussing and primping and talking strategy. Caerwyn sits at the bar trying to find out if there are any local “witches” or other crazy old ladies who live in the area. No one seems to have any information.
By 10 o’clock everyone is ready to go.
It’s a quiet walk through town. All the shops are closed up, not at all like bustling Vesh which seems to never sleep. Finally they approach a neighborhood of houses. They find a home with a tall fence all around and a bouncer standing at the gate wearing a medallion. This is Vignor’s Place.
Terry falls away from the group. She intends to wander in and out most of the night. They watch in awe as she slips unnoticed by the bouncer. Marja, Kalina and Lucre go in next. Lucre, his charisma boosted, pretends not to speak common so that people will talk in front of him. Marja “translates” between him and Kalina effortlessly slipping between common and Dwarvish. Marja has no trouble getting them past the bouncer, even before she mentions Harnet’s name. He let’s them pass into a marble courtyard. From there they notice stables, a small guard house and a three-story home with stone steps leading up to large double doors. Two large men in livery are standing on either side, and they open the doors with a bow as the three ascend the stairs.
Stepping through the doorway, they leave the quiet of the courtyard and walk into a wall of sounds. Music and voices mix in a large room almost completely taken up by a wrap-around bar. Off to the right is a room with tables where people, mostly men, are sitting playing cards. There is a large staircase at the back, but the top is dark, and they can’t see where it leads.
Marja sidles up to the bar. An attractive young man wipes the counter in front of her. “Yes, madame?” “What’s the drink of the house?” she asks, her eyes wide with mock awe at the place. “It’s called a Bloody Nose. Would you like to try it?” True to form the slightly inebriated man standing to Marja’s left insists that she would and indicates that it be put on his tab. “How does she do that,” whispers Kalina to Lucre, who quickly remembers that he’s not supposed to understand so he doesn’t laugh. Kalina strides up next to Marja. “And get me an ale,” she orders. Lucre also strides up to the bar, but finds that he can’t see over it. “And get me a box,” he barks in Dwarvish.
Kalina spots Terry mingling with another group, and she points her out to the other two. About 10 minutes later the others come in just as a tall, barrel-chested, bald man comes down the stairs. He’s dressed in a black tunic and shiny black trousers. This must be Vignor.
Marja picks up her drink and is about to move in when Kira beats her to it so she turns back around and listens in as best she can. “How’d you like a bloody nose?” Vignor asks with a laugh. He talks a lot, but says very little. He does know that the Duke is expected tonight. The Duke is hard to entertain, but he has a surprise for him, an expensive surprise.
Lucre chats with another dwarf, a jewel trader who laments having left Borok Torn and stone work. Lucre, needing to get away to other conversations, tries to bore him with a discussion of clan structure and loses him on “Third son of…”
Vignor relates a story to Kira about the Duke betting on a cat and two bowls of cream He bet lots of money on that silly wagers. Kira makes a mental not to talk to Kalina about that!
Kel and Caerwyn are standing with two pretty, and very young, women who are giggling about how they snuck out of the house and how shiny the two men’s armor is. Terry is standing right behind them engaged in quiet conversation with a non-descript man who is also hard to notice.
Borin wanders through the gaming room looking at the tables. It wasn’t long ago that he was running a place not unlike this, but none of these tables have Enkili symbols anywhere he notes. He finds the basement stairs and wanders down.
Kira notices Lionell come through the door. He is attending another young man in his twenties. He is sunken-chested and sallow with a weak chin, bright eyes and thinning strawberry-blond hair. He is wearing an elaborate tunic with ruffles, velvet hose and good shoes. Everyone briefly rises as he enters, and with a careless wave he ushers them all to be seated again.
KidCthulhu
First Post
Yay! It's back. I know this is my story, but I still like to read it. For one thing, I don't remember from game to game what the heck I tell you guys. If it weren't for the story hour, I'd have to invent some kind of "reality gremlins" to explain all the continuity errors!
Plane Sailing
Astral Admin - Mwahahaha!
Iron Chef BBQ said:
.doc files compress very nicely with ZIP compression - what is the file size once you've zipped it?
Cheers
Graywolf-ELM
Explorer
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