hbarsquared
Quantum Chronomancer
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Of Fey and Shadow - A Midnight story hour (Restored 14 May 2006)
- Thread starter Emiricol
- Start date
Emiricol
Registered User
jeremy_dnd said:
With a new baby, turning the game into a story hour has taken a back seat
I have all the notes, and I suspect I'll be able to devote time to it shortly. This story hour is definitely a priority for me, so no worries about that.I have a ton of stuff to write up, just waiting for me to get to it... heh.
Thanks for reading it, by the way - and the sig link!
Emiricol
Registered User
Spring, 100 Last Age
The journey was long, and much of it arduous. They traveled north through the Carunsil, then east out of the safety of the Fey woods and into the lands of Men and Orc - the Northlands. The four companions had faced unspeakably foul walking dead, the weather, even wild animals to get so far.
Moreover, the threshold of the forest and adjacent plains were a festering no-man's land of raid, counter-raid. They avoided several Elven patrols, so as not to be pressed into some service or another - there were never enough able bodies to do all that needed doing, and Thrayn would be pressed to "do his duty" after all. Two Orc patrols were likewise ambushed, though the need to travel light meant they could only collect the teeth - still, the twenty orc tusks could be traded among the Fey, and they were small and light.
Eventually, of course, the journey came to an end. In early Spring in the year 100 of the Last Age, they crested a low grassy hill and before them stood finally Rode Pijler, which the Dorn knew as Red Pillar in his Norther tongue (Rode Pijler being the name as spoken in the tongue of the Legates), and some 200 yards south of the walled village lay the jutting spire of stone from which the village got its name - a lone collumn of red rock looking like nothing so much as a giant spike impaling the earth itself. It was striking in its abruptness, its crisp edges undulled by time and the elements.
Just outside the gate, which lay closed even at this early hour of the morning, was a burnt piling of lumber and stones, with bits of something red and dull scattered atop it. Keen Fey eyes quickly identified it as the bits and pieces of a suit of plate armor, a rare treasure that had been discarded carelessly and left to rust despite its value. Bones, and dozens of skulls, likewise littered that heap outside the village.
Carith stood silent for a moment as he looked out at the village and the large red stone beyond it, with a feeling of mixed hope and dread. "This is the place of my vision, and from the looks of it events are already in motion. Either these men have somehow thrown off the yoke of their oppressors - and are now waiting for the strike of retribution to come - or that retributive hammer blow had landed and we are too late." he threw his arm forward, sending Whisper off in flight towards the village. "Let us rest here for a few miniutes while I have a look around." Without waiting for a response Carith settled lazily down to the ground, letting his pack fall off his shoudlers, and reached out with his mind and made contact with the hawk as it flew.
~Come my friend, circle the village once and then a quick look towards the rock before we move on.~
====================
More shortly!
The journey was long, and much of it arduous. They traveled north through the Carunsil, then east out of the safety of the Fey woods and into the lands of Men and Orc - the Northlands. The four companions had faced unspeakably foul walking dead, the weather, even wild animals to get so far.
Moreover, the threshold of the forest and adjacent plains were a festering no-man's land of raid, counter-raid. They avoided several Elven patrols, so as not to be pressed into some service or another - there were never enough able bodies to do all that needed doing, and Thrayn would be pressed to "do his duty" after all. Two Orc patrols were likewise ambushed, though the need to travel light meant they could only collect the teeth - still, the twenty orc tusks could be traded among the Fey, and they were small and light.
Eventually, of course, the journey came to an end. In early Spring in the year 100 of the Last Age, they crested a low grassy hill and before them stood finally Rode Pijler, which the Dorn knew as Red Pillar in his Norther tongue (Rode Pijler being the name as spoken in the tongue of the Legates), and some 200 yards south of the walled village lay the jutting spire of stone from which the village got its name - a lone collumn of red rock looking like nothing so much as a giant spike impaling the earth itself. It was striking in its abruptness, its crisp edges undulled by time and the elements.
Just outside the gate, which lay closed even at this early hour of the morning, was a burnt piling of lumber and stones, with bits of something red and dull scattered atop it. Keen Fey eyes quickly identified it as the bits and pieces of a suit of plate armor, a rare treasure that had been discarded carelessly and left to rust despite its value. Bones, and dozens of skulls, likewise littered that heap outside the village.
Carith stood silent for a moment as he looked out at the village and the large red stone beyond it, with a feeling of mixed hope and dread. "This is the place of my vision, and from the looks of it events are already in motion. Either these men have somehow thrown off the yoke of their oppressors - and are now waiting for the strike of retribution to come - or that retributive hammer blow had landed and we are too late." he threw his arm forward, sending Whisper off in flight towards the village. "Let us rest here for a few miniutes while I have a look around." Without waiting for a response Carith settled lazily down to the ground, letting his pack fall off his shoudlers, and reached out with his mind and made contact with the hawk as it flew.
~Come my friend, circle the village once and then a quick look towards the rock before we move on.~
====================
More shortly!
Last edited:
Emiricol
Registered User
Thrayn watched as his companion sat down into his trance. "Make this quick. Masking the magic within us will do no good if someone sees you working sorcery," he grunted in the Norther tongue. He grimaced and took a step between Carith and the village. Staring down at the rubbish heap, he waved Rongald to his side.
Rongald had yet to become used to Thrayn's current appearance. The masking ritual he had worked on himself and Carith had done more than just hide their sorcerous nature - the aura of magic that infused them, Thrayn especially. Now, he and Carith looked much like the other two men - non-descript Dornish travellers equiped for a hard journey. However, always stoic, Rongald approached the snow Elf and peered down to where he pointed. "Aye, a rubbish heap. I don't understand."
Thrayn spoke without looking away, merely cocking his head to one side. "There are bones in that heap, human bones. Armor too, possibly more. Oruks or raiders would have taken prizes and Legate's men would have taken the useful items to bolster their stores. Something may be wrong here." He let the words hang in the air accompanied only by Rongald's grunt of acknowledgement.
Whisper shuddered as the connection was made with his master, and Carith received an image of the bird eating from his hand. For Whisper, this was a sure sign of happiness. Banking on an updraft the raptor soared out over the village, keen eyes picking out many details for Carith to decipher.
Of note, not a single orc was visible, and Men carried weapons openly within the walls of the village. There was a burnt-out building, probably a warehouse, by the main entrance, which was kept closed unless granting a villager passage. Open, closed. Open, closed. ANd there were over two dozen armed men, certainly.
The walls had recently been reinforced with earthworks, leaving something like a dry moat around the village wall, and spikes rose up within the trench, looking like so many blades of grass from that high altitude.
Outside the village, the remnants of a bonfire with numerous skulls and bones. The bird's sharp eyes had no difficulty determining that these were Orc skulls, at least the ones Whisper looked at. There were charred weapons within the pile too, and small bits of armor, some of which looked quite serviceable. ~Very odd~, he thought to himself.
The biggest note of interest, however, was the figure of a large man tied spread-eagle on a wooden "X", which was held upright by two stout wooden poles. The man wore torn and rent armor, near-priceless platemail, but his hands were nailed and tied to the wooden frame, as were his legs. The figure twitched violently, constantly, though it was clearly highly decayed.
Whisper gave the figure a long look before slowly banking again, now towards the red pillar of stone. It was massive, standing at least twenty feet high. The top was nearly smooth, an irregular circle some 30 feet in diameter. About the edge, a wooden pallisade, some of the wood still green. A means of entry or exit was not visible, however. Men worked with hammers and chisels and axes atop the unnatural stone formation.
Carith urged Whisper to fly back, and then broke the mental link. After the moment of dizziness passed, which always followed the disconnect with his feathered friend, Carith stood slowly. " I do not think we will have much to fear from this village, at least if we can convince them that we are not their enemies. There are no orcs in the town, and men walk with weapons held in the open. They have started to build defenses around the village, and to fortify the pillar of rock over there. They burned a lot of orc bodies recently, and some buildings in town, and I think they killed their Legate and left him to rise as one of the Fell. These men are dangerous, but I think we can win them to our side. Besides, they will need all the help they can get if any of them are going to survive the retributive assult that is sure to come."
Carith hoisted his pack up onto his shoulders and started to walk towards the village, Whisper landing on his shoulder after half a dozen steps.
Rongald had yet to become used to Thrayn's current appearance. The masking ritual he had worked on himself and Carith had done more than just hide their sorcerous nature - the aura of magic that infused them, Thrayn especially. Now, he and Carith looked much like the other two men - non-descript Dornish travellers equiped for a hard journey. However, always stoic, Rongald approached the snow Elf and peered down to where he pointed. "Aye, a rubbish heap. I don't understand."
Thrayn spoke without looking away, merely cocking his head to one side. "There are bones in that heap, human bones. Armor too, possibly more. Oruks or raiders would have taken prizes and Legate's men would have taken the useful items to bolster their stores. Something may be wrong here." He let the words hang in the air accompanied only by Rongald's grunt of acknowledgement.
Whisper shuddered as the connection was made with his master, and Carith received an image of the bird eating from his hand. For Whisper, this was a sure sign of happiness. Banking on an updraft the raptor soared out over the village, keen eyes picking out many details for Carith to decipher.
Of note, not a single orc was visible, and Men carried weapons openly within the walls of the village. There was a burnt-out building, probably a warehouse, by the main entrance, which was kept closed unless granting a villager passage. Open, closed. Open, closed. ANd there were over two dozen armed men, certainly.
The walls had recently been reinforced with earthworks, leaving something like a dry moat around the village wall, and spikes rose up within the trench, looking like so many blades of grass from that high altitude.
Outside the village, the remnants of a bonfire with numerous skulls and bones. The bird's sharp eyes had no difficulty determining that these were Orc skulls, at least the ones Whisper looked at. There were charred weapons within the pile too, and small bits of armor, some of which looked quite serviceable. ~Very odd~, he thought to himself.
The biggest note of interest, however, was the figure of a large man tied spread-eagle on a wooden "X", which was held upright by two stout wooden poles. The man wore torn and rent armor, near-priceless platemail, but his hands were nailed and tied to the wooden frame, as were his legs. The figure twitched violently, constantly, though it was clearly highly decayed.
Whisper gave the figure a long look before slowly banking again, now towards the red pillar of stone. It was massive, standing at least twenty feet high. The top was nearly smooth, an irregular circle some 30 feet in diameter. About the edge, a wooden pallisade, some of the wood still green. A means of entry or exit was not visible, however. Men worked with hammers and chisels and axes atop the unnatural stone formation.
Carith urged Whisper to fly back, and then broke the mental link. After the moment of dizziness passed, which always followed the disconnect with his feathered friend, Carith stood slowly. " I do not think we will have much to fear from this village, at least if we can convince them that we are not their enemies. There are no orcs in the town, and men walk with weapons held in the open. They have started to build defenses around the village, and to fortify the pillar of rock over there. They burned a lot of orc bodies recently, and some buildings in town, and I think they killed their Legate and left him to rise as one of the Fell. These men are dangerous, but I think we can win them to our side. Besides, they will need all the help they can get if any of them are going to survive the retributive assult that is sure to come."
Carith hoisted his pack up onto his shoulders and started to walk towards the village, Whisper landing on his shoulder after half a dozen steps.
HalfOrc HalfBiscuit
Adventurer
Emiricol
I came across your storyhour only recently, and have been reading it whenever I've had time over the last few days. Now I'm caught up, I'd just like to say what a fine piece of work I think it is. I'm not particularly familiar with the Midnight setting (though I'm aware of the general premise), nor with the two systems you're using, but whether it's a combination of them, or just your own writing skills, you're managing to evoke a very vivid picture - bravo!
Hope you can keep it up in between your parental duties (don't worry, it gets better, they soon stop demanding so much of your time, and just want money instead ).
I came across your storyhour only recently, and have been reading it whenever I've had time over the last few days. Now I'm caught up, I'd just like to say what a fine piece of work I think it is. I'm not particularly familiar with the Midnight setting (though I'm aware of the general premise), nor with the two systems you're using, but whether it's a combination of them, or just your own writing skills, you're managing to evoke a very vivid picture - bravo!
Hope you can keep it up in between your parental duties (don't worry, it gets better, they soon stop demanding so much of your time, and just want money instead
).
Emiricol
Registered User
Thank you! I'm really glad you are enjoying the story hour. I think it is mostly the system and setting - I feel at times like I am just sort of along for the ride and the campaign is writing itself. The setting has a depth, if you go below the surface, that is really impressive, and the system I'm using, Riddle of Steel, is perfect for Midnight (with a few tweaks and optional rules in use).
The baby slept through the night for the first time last night - I'm sure it was a one time thing though Thankfully it will happen more regularly as time goes on. Whew!
The baby slept through the night for the first time last night - I'm sure it was a one time thing though
Thankfully it will happen more regularly as time goes on. Whew!
Arkhandus
First Post
Yup, Em's a good writer, alright. I might just have to pick up the Midnight setting because of the great story here, dangit. Curse you Em! Making me waste more money on books because you make them seem so much cooler..... {:^D
Wish ya all the best with yer new baby and everything, Em.
-John
Wish ya all the best with yer new baby and everything, Em.
-John
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