[4e] Fallen - Prologue: The Crucible (Full)

[hafrogman]

Atrius - Crucible Challenge III

All know the tales of Veran of the Silver Blade, the legendary knight, the Eladrin warrior, master of spell and sword. But before the legends, comes another story. Before he defeated the giant Ygmar, before he brought down the Necromancer's Keep, before he singlehandedly won the battle of Terok Hill ... The tale of Veran and the Demon Lord, Ghedras.

Ghedras was a terribly demon, with wings of darkest night and the power of all the hells at his command. He had arrived unseen, none had heard of him until he came to demand tribute of the city of Istaril. He stood outside the walls, bellowing his challenge. He was terrible to behold, standing taller than a giant, with flames surrounding him. He issued his demands for gold and gems, threatened to destroy the City if his tribute was not offered. Then, he rose into the sky and flew away to the mountains in the north.

One of the citizens stepped forward. A great leader of the dragonborn, with a troop of loyal soldiers.
"We shall go forth, and we shall destroy this demon. The city shall not bow to such foul evil."
They rode forth from the city, with banners waving and trumpets blaring. A great celebration was held as they set off to destroy the demon. But the next day, the leader returned alone.
"We found the demon's lair, high in the mountains. But there were the remains of a great battle surrounding the cave. Countless skeletons surround the entrance, telling of the demon's might. My soldiers fled, lest they too die at the demon's hand. I could not go on alone. To have killed so many, the demon must be a terrible foe indeed. I think we must pay the tribute."

But another man stepped forth. A tiefling wizard of wide renown.
"We have seen that the demon can slaughter men of steel and strength. But my magic shall prove his downfall. The city shall not bow to such foul evil."
He rode forth from the city, a single soul, secure in his own power. A great celebration was held as he set off to destroy the demon. But the next day, the mage returned.
"I found the demon's lair, high in the mountains. I rode past the battleground scattered with the fallen, and entered the cave. It was black as night in the cave, and so I called upon my magic to banish the darkness. I was deep in the cave when my light was extinguished. I poured more and more power into the spell, but I could not overcome the demon's power. I could not go on without my magic. To have overcome my power, the demon must be a terrible foe indeed. I think we must pay the tribute."

But then another stepped forward. A man of dark deeds, clad in black.
"I am not afraid by the defeat of soldiers, the demon will not see me coming. I am not afraid of the darkness, I live there. I shall sneak into the cave and destroy the demon. The city shall not bow to such foul evil."
He left in the dead of night, and none saw him go, but the next day he returned.
"I found the demon's lair, high in the mountains. I snuck past the battlegrund scattered with the fallen, and entered the cave. I crept through the darkness of the cave, feeling my way forward. Eventually the cave opened out, and stepped into daylight once more. I stood on a bridge, high over a river through the mountains. The demon was waiting for me, standing on the other side. I fired my bow at him, but he was unharmed. He charged at me and I was forced to dive in the river to get away. I could not go on as he knew I was coming. To have detected my approach, the demon must be a terrible foe indeed. I think we must pay the tribute."

With the failure of their three champions, the people of the city were afraid, and began to assemble the tribute. One more tried to stand forward, a young knight by the name of Veran. This was before his greatest deeds were accomplished, let alone known throughout the land. And so the people shouted him down. The soldiers, the mage and the rogue had all failed. Where could one young knight succeed? So it was with no celebration or fanfare that he rode forth to challenge the demon while the City waited for their new lord.

He found the demon's lair, high in the mountains. He rode past the battleground scattered with the fallen, and entered the cave. He carried a torch with him to light his way, until it's light failed just as had the mage's. He strode on through the darkness, feeling his way until he came to the bridge. The demon stood across from him, and bellowed a challenge. Veran drew his sword and stood his ground as the demon charged. He stared into the maw of the oncoming beast, and took a single stroke ... that met nothing. As his sword hit the demon, it dissappeared into mist. Puzzled, Veran continued forward.

Across the bridge he found the true lair of Ghedras, and met him in battle. Was it a might duel, for legends to be made of? No, for when Veran finally made his way inside, he found not a terrible demon lord, but a mere imp. A clever imp. An imp who had fooled a great leader, and a powerful mage and a dark rogue. An imp who had preyed on their shared weakness. Fear. Veran alone defeated him, not by being strong or powerful or crafty, but by having the courage to face his foe when no one else would. In time, Veran would become the greatest of all the heroes, with strength, power and guile unmatched by any. But his greatest strength was always the one he found first.

 

[Phaezen]

Following Darkness Challenge II

"Following, how would you define happiness?"

The revenant looked surprised at the question "Happiness? I am not sure I understand". The old priest looked sadly at him, "return to your cell on think on it"

Following sat meditating the question, looking back through his memories, thinking what made him smile. The first time he discovered he could ride the shadows around creatures, stepping into the shadow of a dragonborn thug to behind the eladrin who was attempting to blackmail the temple. Learning to manipulate shadow, turning it into a weapon, allowing him to strike from distance and guiding his blade. His first kills in the arena, a halfling and half orc pairing. The hill giant runt that had been captured and put against him in the arena. The odd sensation he got fighting along side dwarves. Just then a half glimpsed memory crossed his mind, so swiftly he was not sure it was his own as it faded and dissipated, quickly forgotten.

A nameless dwarf fighting in vain to hold back a group of giants while his comrades tried to escape, crushed against a cave wall by a club larger than him. As darkness came the feeling of despair and failure, a mumbled, desperate prayer "Lord Moradin, grant that I my rectify my failure in this life in the next, make me a vessel of your anger".

Fading from blackness, the blurred vision of a mighty dwarf and a human woman looking at him from a distance a conversation "so we have an agreement?" "yes, he will be the token of your vengeance on his race's foes" the rest of the conversations faded away, leaving a feeling of comfort, destiny and the knowledge that revenge will be granted.

These memories faded away, gone back to the shadows that consumed his mind, leaving only the knowledge that for Following Darkness to find true happiness he would have to find his destiny, until then he would have to make his own.

 

[Phaezen]

Following Darkness Challenge III

The dwarves have a legend

In the time when Moradin forged the first dwarves from his mountain home, he set them upon the world in caves deep below the surface.

He provided them light and knowledge of mining and crafting, but also with a warning. Around the dwarven homes lived darkness, watching and waiting, jealous of the light and skills of the dwarves. Moradin warned them of the darkness in its many forms and guises. The darkness that steals life and light; the darkness that watches learning, growing; the darkness that lurks, waiting for the unwary and the darkness that hungers, which traps and devours the foolish dwarf who would wander too far from the safety of the clan.

The darkness watched the new dwarven nations, resenting their growth and industry, turning the creatures that lived in it against the dwarves, feeding them the knowledge it stole, whispering lies about the cities and the nature of their inhabitants. For the darkness resented these new comers and the favour they carried of the Allfather.

But, part of the darkness was intrigued, watching a small clan and their mastery of the their surroundings. It grew fond of them, until creatures corrupted by the jealous darkness descended on the clan brutally attacking wiping them out. The curious darkness grew angry and followed the raiders back to their lair. It covered the rampaging goblinoids, devouring them leaving no trace.

Dwarven traders who found the remains of the clan and tracked the raiders back to the empty caves they called home grew afraid. They started speaking of a new darkness, one that watched over dwarves and took revenge on any who would harm an innocent, tracking the wrongdoers back to their homes and exacting terrible vengeance. They gave this new darkness a terrible name, one which strikes fear into the heart of any dwarf who hears it Got Dammaz Dum. Translated into common it is known as The Darkness that Follows.

 

[Kobold Stew]

PIRX -- Crucible Challenge II

When Pirx first graduated from the pit, he began to notice all the social layers that existed above him. We may all be slaves, but the hierarchy exists nonetheless. Near the top, the gladiators who have survived a season or two, get baths, and massages to keep them in fighting shape, pretty for the crowds. For those at the very top, the masseuses aren’t dwarves.

Too much to navigate, for the wee goblin who didn’t belong. What was important was to escape the ladder. Find something else to do. Pirx’s first instinct was to care for the horses that were used in the games to pull chariots when they would re-enact the Siege of Macaria, the first battle in this Great War. But it turns out the horses are all magically summoned – there’s a row of reins that can each summon a horse. Using these there is no need for stables, or food, or mucking, or stalls; just a new horse each time, fresh for combat or racing or whatever the crowds have been promised. Want to get me one of those, Pirx thought.

And so he did.

Pirx remembers convincing Thorgil to let him ride a horse (this was back when Thorgil was still alive). He brought down the reins and put them into the long blue fingers of the small hands of the goblin. Pirx ran it through his hands, and thought back to the first time he put a bridle on a caribou – “Rein-deer” Pirx had joked at the time (a joke that works in both Goblin and Common, as it turns out). Then, it was a matter of snapping the leather bands under the creatures jaw, avoiding the antlers. Because of the height difference, it first required a leap. Leap, snap, hold on for dear life (deer life; heh) as the beast begins to run, and then swing yourself back and forth until you have enough of an arc to reach the creature’s back. Then hold on.

He wanted to impress Thorgil, because Thorgil held the key to Pirx’s continued salvation. And so, with the reins in his hand, Pirx began to run. In the dark, past the cells, one leg after another, over the cold floor. He leapt, and shook our the magical bridle in his hand, reaching up, arcing over a neck that wasn’t there. Until it was. The stallion galloped, pulling at the bit as it adjusted its shape to the horse’s mouth. And the breeze ran through the goblin’s fur as he swung back and forth and back and forth, in a well-practiced move remembered from a time before all this. Back and forth and up and his hands as always on the antlers. Which were not there. Nor would they be. Pirx arched over, missing the horse completely, and landed on the cold floor, beside the cage from which a lone bugbear stared at him, and winked. The horse had vanished, the bridle lying on the ground empty, and now useless for another day. And at the end of the hall, Pirx the fallen heard the laugh. Thorgil’s laugh, resonant with unreserved joy, filling the echoing stone sub-basement of the arena.

Even today, Pirx remembers making his friend laugh.

 

[Insight]

Q'ynn Daelrith - Challenge II

Q'ynn Daelrith - Crucible Challenge II - A Fond Memory

"Q'ynn," Grumbar said. "Tell me again of your time before the arena."

Q'ynn Daelrith turned to see his aged friend. Grumbar Addleren was probably the oldest gladiator, at least physically. The human former soldier was in his 50s and had seen so much war in his time that Q'ynn thought the old codger should have been a general or some sort of military advisor as opposed to a a forgotten slave seeing his last days in the arena. Of course, Grumbar laughed off such suggestions. At this point, Grumbar saw all of his life as a series of combats of one sort of another. Outwardly, the old soldier was happy to go into combat against some 'young upstart', just to show them that age and experience still sometimes beats youth and energy.

"Tell me of when you were a noble at Bael Surth," Grumbar added. "It soothes this old heart to hear of more peaceful times."

"All right," Q'ynn replied. "I suppose I can recall something peaceful."


***

It was autumn in Bael Surth. A festival was coming up. It was the Feast of Lanterns. People would gather by Lake Wunther near dusk. A band of minstrels would play songs of local color on a small island not far from the lake shore. People would often sing along and, drinking as the night went on, make merry. Children, both nobles and otherwise, crafted and released paper lanterns into the water. Magi influenced the lake's waves so as to cause the paper lanterns to move back towards the island and those minstrels. In time, the paper lanterns would seem to dance upon the waves in time to the music. I was once one of those children, the ones who crafted lanterns and set them upon the water. It was one of those rare times when a noble might mingle with a commoner, but the tale I am about to spin would happen later, during my adolescence.

I was fifteen. As a scion of House Daelrith, and a dashing fellow if I do say so myself, I had a great many young girls of the court at my beck and call. I could romance most of them at my pleasure and, being the son of one of the wealthiest families in Bael Surth, and filled with ardent demeanor, I did so. There was one girl, however, who was seemingly beyond my reach. That was the one I really wanted, of course.

Her name was Iana. I never knew her last name. Iana was a servant girl. She worked in my family's house, mostly carrying water and wine around during dinner and other hosted events. Iana was a vision of simplicity and grace. She had none of the affectations of nobility. She had no airs. She went about doing her job, saying nothing, even when insulted. Her beauty was a timeless one and I could do nothing but watch her as she moved about my house.

Iana and I bumped into one another seemingly by accident at that year's Feast of Lanterns. I say 'seemingly by accident' because that's how I arranged it. In fact, I paid Iana's mother a kingly sum to ensure that Iana would be at the event and to ensure she would be at a certain place at a certain time. Iana's mother understood what my nobles peers could not: that sometimes, a human heart knows not the boundaries of social grace.

I bought Iana a drink of peach juice and cinnamon and we sat down on a bench by the shore. Iana knew who I was and was a little reluctant to speak directly to me. I implored her to be frank and even with me as I would be to her. I told Iana of my love for her, to which she giggled, but I could tell she understood.

We sat there, at that bench, until well after the Feast of Lanterns. I learned so much about the lower classes, the advantages of having no burden of social standing, but also their hardships. Iana and her family appreciated how well they were treated at House Daelrith; it was common in other noble houses to beat slaves and that almost never happened in our house. I also learned of Iana's life beyond the walls of our estate. The truth of the matter was that Iana was engaged to be married to another servant and that, while she appreciated my love for her, Iana could not be mine.

I walked Iana back to her family's simple home in the Lower Quarter and bid her good night. On the way back to House Daelrith, I considered hiring an assassin to 'take care' of Iana's suitor, thus leaving her to me, but that seemed too harsh. I considered paying the suitor to leave her at the altar, but, after speaking with my uncle, Jord, himself wise in the ways of romance, I decided that I should let the marriage go on. After all, the truth was that Iana would never really be mine. My family would never let me openly court a servant girl. Iana's life would be better off with another servant.

On the day of Iana's marriage, I attended the ceremony, in disguise, hiding in the back. Her wedding party received a huge gift: an onyx statue worth 1,000 gold pieces and flowers to the tune of another 250 gold pieces. This gift came from an 'unknown donor', who was, of course, hiding in the back of the chapel.

Once Iana was married, I arranged to have her moved to the noble house where her husband's family worked. As much as I was happy that Iana was in a good place, seeing her didn't ease my heart any. I had to remove her from my sight so that I only had good memories of her presence in House Daelrith.

Last I heard, Iana and her husband were expecting their second child. On their anniversaries, until I was myself sold into slavery, the couple received a gift of flowers from an 'unknown donor'. I imagined Iana's face when she saw the gift arrive and I hope that, somehow, she knew they were from me.

***

"This place, it changes you," Grumbar said. "I was always a warrior. It don't make no matter to me whether I fight in here or out there. But you... you had a life once, didn't you? Someday, you'll have a life outside of here."

"I hope you're right, Grumbar," Q'ynn Daelrith replied. "I hope you're right."

 

[Kobold Stew]

PIRX -- Crucible Challenge III

On his monthly trip to town, when he would leave the steppes and take one or two of us with him to observe, to learn, and (though he would never admit it) for company, the Manager of our brood would tell a story. It was, more or less, the same story every time, but we didn’t mind. When he told it, his voice became more resonant. His posture would become more erect, and it would seem like he glowed. This was his story:

Among the other races, people laugh at us goblins, you know. They know nothing of who we are, of who we were. Once, though, we were feared, respected. Once, we were even taller, you know – larger than the hobgoblins, almost the size of the bugbears. You can still see it in the length of our arms, the size of our faces. And the three goblin races were feared and respected by all the races that now rule this earth. But we are not cast aside, no, don’t think that. We had to make a choice, and when Maglubiyet came to us, we made it.

The great god spoke, “I can make you mighty, or I can make you happy. One will give you lands unimaginable, Choose – for without these, you will spend the rest of time seen as insignificant among all the humanoid species. And the Hobgoblins chose to be mighty, and for centuries their empire persisted, though its time has passed. And the Bugbears chose to be happy, though they find joy in anthills. But the goblins considered (and it is not easy thing for us all to consider together) and spoke (and it is no easy thing for us to speak together) and as one we said “We’ll take it.” The god blinked, as if he had missed something. “Which? Might or Happiness?” Maglubiyet asked, confident that his magnanimous offer would be appreciated by those who loved him most.

“We will be seen as insignificant for the rest of time.”

Maglubiyet paused, and then laughed, delighted (as he then realized) that he had been tricked by those who loved him most. And soon we were smaller, and weaker, and we hide a little more than we used to, but we're no less clever – no, don’t think that. We have the divine guarantee that for the rest of time, we will persist. Humans will come and go. These empires around us, Arkhosia and Bael Turath, they are of the moment. But they too will pass, as will all other races. And, in the end, there will be us. The goblins. We tricked the gods, we set our own destiny, and we’re here forever. Always remember that. We’re here forever.”

 

[renau1g]

Kadaj - Challenge II - Fond Memory

Kadaj sat on the straw mat that served as his bed, he'd gotten used to the coarse material, the hard floor, and the feeling of unknown bugs crawling on him, and feel into a deep sleep.

***

Kadaj surreptitiously glided past buildings in the dark shadows without a sound, his black hood flaring in the wind. He ran across the damp fields, splashing up puddles as he silently sprinted through the village and up to the top of an old abandoned cottage. The house was dark, cold and musty. He was used to the darkness however and could rely on his other senses to compensate. Then he snuck up the stairs and came to a trap door on the soggy peeling ceiling. He opened it and leapt up swiftly into a small dusty attic, one hand spread on the splintered floor and his left knee adding balance on the floor. His black cape flapping behind him. There was a still silhouette standing, gazing, out of the window not moving or making a sound. The assassin slipped out a knife, gripping it tightly he stared directly at his target and started into a run and leapt up, the blade pointing directly in front of him. The man turned round suddenly and gasped. But it was too late the blade had already sunk deep into his flesh. Blood oozed out and droplets splashed onto the planked floor the man tried to scream but Kadaj grabbed his neck tightly forcing the man to convulse horrifically. Suddenly thick red fluid gushed out of his mouth and the wound, his nerves pumping and shaking. All of a sudden the man's last breath softly seeped from his mouth and he collapsed to the floor.

The room was pitch black but Kadaj was able to make out the silvery cobwebs and last grasp of light that shone through the large window. He slowly crept up against the dirty window and pulled out a tiny glass knife. It shimmered and sparkled even in the gloom of the attic. He then cut a small round circle in the dusty corner of the window and tried to remove it making a sniping point for his next unfortunate victim. He grabbed it but accidentally pushed it and it fell all the way to ground below. It hit the ground with a thud and made a loud smashing sound. The assassin swore under his breath and silently pulled out his crossbow. He poked it through the small gap in the window and lowered his devilish eyes to the custom sight installed on it by a dwarven craftsman. Although it was dark the assassin’s eyes glinted evilly. A shudder ran down his cold spine as a whistling gust of wind spiraled through the shattered window on his left. The assassin took a deep breath and held it, loomed over the weapon and aimed. His heart pumped hard, enabling him to almost hear it in his head. The slender black lines of the sight lay still as the assassin gathered him self and focused. Twang. The bolt lying in the weapon carried a deadly poison and the projectile whistled with enormous speed until *Thunk* The bolt slammed tremendously hard into the head of its victim. Then it blew out the other side in a cloud of blood and grey matter. Blood spattered hard against the wall behind him. The victim fell to the floor in a heap. Kadaj grinned and turned from the window, thinking "Guess I didn't need that poison after all". He stood up and left the attic, his heavy waxed boots echoing as he strode away, a grim shadow covering his face. The Mission was accomplished.

***

Kadaj woke up with a start, wondering what brought that memory back, his first kill working for the guild... shaking his head, the assassin went back to sleep.

 

[renau1g]

Kadaj - Challenge III - Favourite Tale

Kadaj was talking to one of the goliaths from the mountains to the north and the other man told the assassin of a story his people had:


An Eagle was soaring through the air when suddenly it heard the whizz of an Arrow, and felt itself wounded to death. Slowly it fluttered down to the earth, with its life-blood pouring out of it. Looking down upon the Arrow with which it had been pierced, it found that the shaft of the Arrow had been feathered with one of its own plumes. "Alas!" it cried, as it died the goliath had said, explaining that we often give our enemies the means for our own demise.

Kadaj grinned as he though on the message of the tale and when the goliath asked what he was thinking, the assassin just shook his head, thinking "Oh yes, the often do. Erstad did just that by dropping me off here. I will not be caught next time and death will be begged for before we're through"

 

[Walking Dad]

Challenge II - Fond Memory
________________________________________

In the nights of the full moon, when Bashu’s power was greatest, Fury dreamed and remembered:

“Bha-Ka-Thet, You have completed your training at the temple. Now you have to pass a last test. Go to the villa in the north east of the merchant district. You will find one of our greatest patron in need of your talents. Leave now!”

Fury growled slightly in his sleep, his dream racing forward to the moment he entered the villa.

Bha-Ka-Thet smelled the aroma of the cultivated wild-flowers as he entered the garden surrounding the villa. Like a shadow he slipped over the wall and into the manor. He finally reached what must normally be the eating room, for it had the size of the one in the temple, where the entire of the priest ate together.

“Bha-Ka-Thet, please enter, I have waited for you!” He heard a shrill voice. On a massive pile of cushions laid the biggest and most obese man he had ever seen. And he was not alone. Rows of warriors flanked the room, wearing blackened leather armor, a red full mask, holding falchions in their hands.
“Bha-Ka-Thet, my second wife has betrayed me. Here is the information regarding their hiding spot.” The obese man said gesturing at the scroll a small undernourished slave-girl brought. “Kill them and bring me her tongue who lied to me and his eyes who dared to see what is mine!”

Fury dreamed further…

Bha-Ka-Thet moved through the chaotic streets of the foreigner district, avoiding all the guards that patrolled there. They were more for thwarting any riots and hinder the dwellers from leaving their district, but they were brutal and many. At last, he found the building he was looking for. He entered through the skylight and nearly instantly heard a man and a woman speaking. After preparing himself, he simply stepped into the room.
“For the sins against Bashu, I’m here to collect your souls.” He said, nearly praying the formal litany. At the shocked faces he explained further: “For breaking your sacred bond to your husband, the lifes of you and your lover are forfeit.”
“No!” the woman cried. “He is a monster. This is my true husband. This fiend had taken me away and forced her to obey him.” She started crying and fell into the man’s arms.
Bha-Ka-Thet contemplated about her words. It was truly odd for such a merchant to marry a foreigner girl. And he heard stories about such things before. And why was he send and not something more official? He made a decision and left the couple as fast and stealthy as he had arrived.
Navigating back through the streets and districts, he finally reached the manor again. Not attempting to be stealthy, he just strode in.
“I’m very disappointed with you”, the shape on the cushions said. “Now you have to die yourself!”

Bha-Ka-Thet fought valiantly, besting the warriors in a row, able to incapatiate them without killing. Finally he stood before the obese man… a man who shimmered and reverted to the abbot of his temple.
“Well done Bha-Ka-Thet, you showed the three virtues of Bashu in you test. The stealth of is new-moon self. The ability to judge, like his crescent self. And finally the valor and combat abilities of his full moon self. Now you are a Moon Knight. You should be known as Caged Fury.”

Caged Fury smiled in his sleep as he remembered this proudest and happiest moment in his life.

 

[Walking Dad]

Challenge II - Favourite Tale
From the prophecies of Hashmet the Older:

Hear now, that there was a time before the come of Yeenu-Thet, the hyena god. When heaven and earth was ruled by a divine pair: Amun-Sur, the falcon god, and Bashu, the panther god. Amun-Sur was the ruler of the day, yes, had the dominion of the sun, but Bashu ruled the night, some times hidden, sometimes in full view, like the moon, his symbol and sign. But then came the darkness in shape of Yeenu-Thet in our land. Some say he is no true god, but some arch-evil from beyond. His priest and cult slaughtered the followers of Amun-Sur and Bashu and the other, lesser gods. At last there seemed to be a peace...
But this so called 'peace' was only a new way how the evil deceived my people. They corrupted the cult of Amun-Sur, some say the very sun god himself. But the cult of Banshu saw what happened. They were not only skilled in the battle in the open field as the honest fighters of Amun-Sur, but were also wise in the way of misinformation and distraction. So they had chosen to flee into obscurity, content with sending their elte guard, the Moon Knights to slay the false priests one by one. But they were not able to reach the high priest, for in the inner sanctum of Yeenu-Thet greatest temple even the divine powers of the most faithful faded. But there should be a Moon Knight one day, a Moon Knight who, while blessed by Banshu, will find power not without, but within. His growth in power will be caged, so he will grow inward and not by reaching farther to the heavens. His fury shall shall oneday purge the land from the influence of Yeenu-Thet.