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Wulf's Collected Story Hour -- FINAL UPDATE 12/25
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<blockquote data-quote="Wulf Ratbane" data-source="post: 80649" data-attributes="member: 94"><p><strong>Lord of the Iron Fortress -- EPILOGUE</strong></p><p></p><p>EPILOGUE</p><p></p><p>While the rest of the group scoured the tower for magic items and more traditional loot, Wulf was whistling a jaunty tune and shovelling a king’s ransom in pure adamantine ore into his portable hole.</p><p></p><p>He paused at a smaller mound of green baatorian steel. </p><p></p><p>“Demon-steel?” he thought. “Ferkit, I don’t care.” It joined the adamantine in the hole. Wulf rolled it up and stuffed the little velvet pouch in his belt. You wouldn’t know to look at him that he was carrying over 300,000 gold crowns’ worth of raw ore.</p><p></p><p><em>Which I can double or triple by working at the Forge!</em> Wulf nearly hopped with excitement. </p><p></p><p>They returned home, but it was not long before the group split up. Wulf stayed on at the Forge, of course, and encouraged Dorn to expand his temple to Haela. He even allowed Keldas to build a wizard’s tower atop the mountain above. </p><p></p><p>Shorty felt a calling back to Ossington and took possession of Dyson’s old tower. </p><p></p><p>Karak went back to his temple, no doubt, to properly train his boy.</p><p></p><p><strong>TWO YEARS PASS</strong></p><p></p><p>Wulf got an unexpected visit from Karak. </p><p></p><p>“Well...” Karak said. “If you wouldn’t mind, I was hoping you would make a holy sword for me.”</p><p></p><p>“Let me see,” Wulf said. “Last time we were together yer abandoned me, then yer don’t say a word for two years, and now yer suddenly show up and yer askin’ ME to make yer holy sword?”</p><p></p><p>“Yes.”</p><p></p><p>“Just checking,” Wulf said. “Thanks for the vote of trust.”</p><p></p><p>Karak smiled. “Great! I hear you do good work here...”</p><p></p><p>“Only the best,” Wulf said. Indeed one of his earliest moves was to enchant his hammer, tongs, even the Forge itself, to greatly enhance his smithing abilities.</p><p></p><p>In due time he sent Karak a parcel containing a magnificent blade of green-hued steel. </p><p></p><p>**</p><p></p><p>Wulf chuckled to himself, but it didn't last long. The Old Man hounded him on a near daily basis. “You need to marry,” he said. “I will not allow you to be King unless you are willing to leave an heir...”</p><p></p><p>“Well...” Wulf began.</p><p></p><p>“A <em>legitimate</em> heir.” The Old Man rolled his eyes.</p><p></p><p>“Wives and babies aren’t for me,” Wulf said. “I don’t need that kind o’ vulnerability.” </p><p></p><p><strong>FOUR YEARS PASS</strong></p><p></p><p>Over the next couple of years Wulf, Dorn, and Keldas enjoyed some simple adventuring, enough to keep their skills fresh and to support the creation of a few new magic items. </p><p></p><p>Wulf himself had been VERY busy over the past four years. He had a nice black market in baatorian steel weapons, which of course necessitated certain dealings with the local Thieves’ Guild—though Wulf was suitably removed from the transactions through several middlemen. Of course, when the upright citizens of the area discovered the illicit trade, Wulf was more than happy to volunteer to crush the local Guild.</p><p></p><p>And then take it over.</p><p></p><p>“Maybe not King,” Wulf admitted. “But I’ll take Guildmaster.”</p><p></p><p>Wulf had slowly but steadily been attracting “his kind” of people to his banner. In addition to many smiths, spies, thieves, and other experts in his employ, he spent a good deal of his time training a loyal group of dwarven tunnel-fighters. The group spurred Wulf’s creativity at the forge as well, and he developed a fine chain shirt specifically for their use: </p><p></p><p>The simple secret to his “Dwarven Chain” was a single ring of adamantine joined by four rings of mithril. Strong, light, flexible, quiet, and comfortable. His own prototype shirt was enchanted with <em>silence</em> and <em>shadow</em>.</p><p></p><p>“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to,” the Old Man told him one day. “You really ought to think about getting married. Diessa, you know...”</p><p></p><p>“Give it a rest, already. Yer got my money. Yer got a nice temple... Yer and Dorn both, plus all the rest...”</p><p></p><p>“Yes,” the Old Man said. “I can’t tell you how happy I was to see that you had commissioned... What was it? ‘An unspecified altar to a giant fist.’”</p><p></p><p>Wulf made the fist.</p><p></p><p><strong>TEN YEARS PASS</strong></p><p></p><p>Ten years of prosperity and peace—if one didn’t count the constant nagging of the Old Man. “You ready to marry yet?”</p><p></p><p>“No.”</p><p></p><p>“Okay... How about now?”</p><p></p><p><strong>FIFTEEN YEARS PASS</strong></p><p></p><p>In year fifteen, the Baron of Brindenford was assassinated.</p><p></p><p>Always one to see the silver lining, Wulf sought out the Old Man and found him in the temple with Diessa. </p><p></p><p>“NOW I am ready to marry,” Wulf announced. “Seems the baron had some enemies.”</p><p></p><p>“Let me guess,” the Old Man said. “The Baron’s daughter is ascending to leadership.”</p><p></p><p>“Aye. Good time for an alliance, right?”</p><p></p><p>“Out of the question. The baron’s daughter already has a suitor.”</p><p></p><p>“Son of a...” Wulf growled.</p><p></p><p>“What do you have against a good dwarf woman?” the Old Man asked.</p><p></p><p>Wulf looked at Diessa. “Well... There’s always room for concubines... What? What did I say?”</p><p></p><p><strong>SEVENTEEN YEARS PASS</strong></p><p></p><p>At last, the Old Man passed away.</p><p></p><p>Wulf got a little carried away in the ensuing celebrations, and in due time Diessa came to him with her own “happy news.”</p><p></p><p>“Yer ferkin’ kiddin’ me.”</p><p></p><p>They were married quickly, and in the natural way of such things, it wasn’t long before Wulf was ready to go adventuring again. </p><p></p><p>“I’ll go with you,” Diessa said. </p><p></p><p>For Wulf, it was a fate worse than death. Marriage was one thing, but at least with Diessa it wasn’t so bad: you didn’t really worry at night when your wife could cast <em>holy word</em>. </p><p></p><p>But a child? That had “plot device of the gods” written all over it. </p><p></p><p>He was trapped. </p><p></p><p>Screwed. </p><p></p><p>“Great!” Wulf said. “I was thinking maybe some deep dungeon with lots of dangerous, crumbling stone stairs.”</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Wulf Ratbane, post: 80649, member: 94"] [b]Lord of the Iron Fortress -- EPILOGUE[/b] EPILOGUE While the rest of the group scoured the tower for magic items and more traditional loot, Wulf was whistling a jaunty tune and shovelling a king’s ransom in pure adamantine ore into his portable hole. He paused at a smaller mound of green baatorian steel. “Demon-steel?” he thought. “Ferkit, I don’t care.” It joined the adamantine in the hole. Wulf rolled it up and stuffed the little velvet pouch in his belt. You wouldn’t know to look at him that he was carrying over 300,000 gold crowns’ worth of raw ore. [i]Which I can double or triple by working at the Forge![/i] Wulf nearly hopped with excitement. They returned home, but it was not long before the group split up. Wulf stayed on at the Forge, of course, and encouraged Dorn to expand his temple to Haela. He even allowed Keldas to build a wizard’s tower atop the mountain above. Shorty felt a calling back to Ossington and took possession of Dyson’s old tower. Karak went back to his temple, no doubt, to properly train his boy. [b]TWO YEARS PASS[/b] Wulf got an unexpected visit from Karak. “Well...” Karak said. “If you wouldn’t mind, I was hoping you would make a holy sword for me.” “Let me see,” Wulf said. “Last time we were together yer abandoned me, then yer don’t say a word for two years, and now yer suddenly show up and yer askin’ ME to make yer holy sword?” “Yes.” “Just checking,” Wulf said. “Thanks for the vote of trust.” Karak smiled. “Great! I hear you do good work here...” “Only the best,” Wulf said. Indeed one of his earliest moves was to enchant his hammer, tongs, even the Forge itself, to greatly enhance his smithing abilities. In due time he sent Karak a parcel containing a magnificent blade of green-hued steel. ** Wulf chuckled to himself, but it didn't last long. The Old Man hounded him on a near daily basis. “You need to marry,” he said. “I will not allow you to be King unless you are willing to leave an heir...” “Well...” Wulf began. “A [i]legitimate[/i] heir.” The Old Man rolled his eyes. “Wives and babies aren’t for me,” Wulf said. “I don’t need that kind o’ vulnerability.” [b]FOUR YEARS PASS[/b] Over the next couple of years Wulf, Dorn, and Keldas enjoyed some simple adventuring, enough to keep their skills fresh and to support the creation of a few new magic items. Wulf himself had been VERY busy over the past four years. He had a nice black market in baatorian steel weapons, which of course necessitated certain dealings with the local Thieves’ Guild—though Wulf was suitably removed from the transactions through several middlemen. Of course, when the upright citizens of the area discovered the illicit trade, Wulf was more than happy to volunteer to crush the local Guild. And then take it over. “Maybe not King,” Wulf admitted. “But I’ll take Guildmaster.” Wulf had slowly but steadily been attracting “his kind” of people to his banner. In addition to many smiths, spies, thieves, and other experts in his employ, he spent a good deal of his time training a loyal group of dwarven tunnel-fighters. The group spurred Wulf’s creativity at the forge as well, and he developed a fine chain shirt specifically for their use: The simple secret to his “Dwarven Chain” was a single ring of adamantine joined by four rings of mithril. Strong, light, flexible, quiet, and comfortable. His own prototype shirt was enchanted with [i]silence[/i] and [i]shadow[/i]. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to,” the Old Man told him one day. “You really ought to think about getting married. Diessa, you know...” “Give it a rest, already. Yer got my money. Yer got a nice temple... Yer and Dorn both, plus all the rest...” “Yes,” the Old Man said. “I can’t tell you how happy I was to see that you had commissioned... What was it? ‘An unspecified altar to a giant fist.’” Wulf made the fist. [b]TEN YEARS PASS[/b] Ten years of prosperity and peace—if one didn’t count the constant nagging of the Old Man. “You ready to marry yet?” “No.” “Okay... How about now?” [b]FIFTEEN YEARS PASS[/b] In year fifteen, the Baron of Brindenford was assassinated. Always one to see the silver lining, Wulf sought out the Old Man and found him in the temple with Diessa. “NOW I am ready to marry,” Wulf announced. “Seems the baron had some enemies.” “Let me guess,” the Old Man said. “The Baron’s daughter is ascending to leadership.” “Aye. Good time for an alliance, right?” “Out of the question. The baron’s daughter already has a suitor.” “Son of a...” Wulf growled. “What do you have against a good dwarf woman?” the Old Man asked. Wulf looked at Diessa. “Well... There’s always room for concubines... What? What did I say?” [b]SEVENTEEN YEARS PASS[/b] At last, the Old Man passed away. Wulf got a little carried away in the ensuing celebrations, and in due time Diessa came to him with her own “happy news.” “Yer ferkin’ kiddin’ me.” They were married quickly, and in the natural way of such things, it wasn’t long before Wulf was ready to go adventuring again. “I’ll go with you,” Diessa said. For Wulf, it was a fate worse than death. Marriage was one thing, but at least with Diessa it wasn’t so bad: you didn’t really worry at night when your wife could cast [i]holy word[/i]. But a child? That had “plot device of the gods” written all over it. He was trapped. Screwed. “Great!” Wulf said. “I was thinking maybe some deep dungeon with lots of dangerous, crumbling stone stairs.” [/QUOTE]
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