[4e] The Wolfcrown, Chapter 1

[Shayuri]

"Yes," Thorn replied to Squeal. "And the next one will be the real one. We're going to need an actual plan to stop him. If we're caught off guard, like that one caught us, the Queen will die and we may not even know it until it's too late."

She paused to look suspiciously around, then added, "I have an idea, but lets talk about it when we reach her Majesty."

 

[Phaezen]

Squeal, Warforged barbarian

Squeal moves over to where the assassin was interrogated and picks up the flask that contained the acid, looking at it thoughtfully, then places it in it's backpack.

 

[Rathan]

Death...

As Doren watched Thomas' body being taken away it reminded him exactly why he hated needless killing to begin with. From a year young age Dorens life was wrought with untimely and sometimes unneeded death. His First experience with this end of all fates 'disease' and Doren sometimes calls it was at age two. He can still remember the letter from the state his father received in regards to Jacob's death. Jacob was much older than Doren was, he was 17 when he passed and doing the math he was 15 years Doren's senior. Doren watched the frayed piece of parchment spin in mid flight as it dropped from his fathers hand after reading the correspondence. At this age Doren's reading skills were not par enough to make out most of the long elaborate words at the state explained his brothers death however Doren knew in small part what had transpired.

This of course changed Dorens father completely. Jacob was his eldest son and respected him more than most as he was following in his fathers footsteps as a city law official. Jacob was head of his class in psychical and academic studies as he trained and honed himself to follow the laws decrees set forth by Blackmoor himself. Dorens father turn to the spirits to calm his souls pain and it was not long before depression set into anger.... and to anger abuse.

Dorens father would repeated beat him for even the most simple wrongs. Not making his bed before school in the morning would have him lamed and bruised before he could get out the door on the long walk to school. Dorens mother was spared the abuse but more than likely because his father pitied her as it was her son she lost as well. Mother was not able to have any more children because of the danger of rapid and uncontrolled bleeding she underwent with Doren's pregnancy, thus loosing one of her own was especially hard on her. The two boys though went through hell and back listening to how perfect Jacob was and how we couldn't hold a candle to 'my good boy' as father would routinely call him.

Despite this Doren refused to be angry at this father over the years. Until one faithful day Doren will never forget. It was something Doren could recall just by closing his eyes and shuttering at the thoughts racing through his head. Dorens next oldest brother Hanson was always a quite boy. He was a mere ten months older than he was. Naturally being so close in age, he and Hanson shared a closeness that he never did with Jacob. He and Hanson did everything together, and through fathers drinking binges tended each others wounds and subconsciously kept each other sane through he and his mothers constant fighting and bickering after Jacobs death.

It was a cold night that night, frost on the single panes of glass glowed and eerie light light from the oil lamps used to give life to the cold and now broken home. Hanson was doing homework as Doren did his chores. Doren was dusting an old medal of Jacobs on the mantle of the fireplace carefully, but not carefully enough. The medal tipped and slipped past Dorens fingers as he stumbled to catch it mid air. Before he could suck in a breath of horror he looked down to see the medal in three pieces. Doren snapped his eyes to his father, already home from a hard days work with bottle already in hand.

Doren had never seen anyone move that fast in his life. Before he could even get an 'I'm so sorry' out his mouth he felt the heavy hands of his father grasping and shaking him violently to and fro sputtering cuss after swear cursing his worthless youngest son and wishing he'd never been born. Soon Doren was toss to the floor and the hard impact was followed by heavy fist each finding a different part of the body to batter and bruise. Doren lifted his tear-stained eyes as the barrage of beatings lulled for a moment to look upon his father almost wondering why he had stopped and at this moment, Doren would never be able to shake what he saw with his own eyes next.

Hanson was screaming at the top of his lungs as he tried to pull his own hulking father off his brother. Fearing he was going to kill Doren for his mistake Hanson grabbed the fireplace ash shovel off it's sconce to beat his father back and keep him at bay for the moment. However as Hanson turned to strike his father to keep him at arms reach, Doren watched as his father pulled his dagger from his waist sheath and take the blow from shovel like it never even happened before sinking the blade deep within Hansons chest.

'Was this real? Can this really be happening' Doren though as he sat up in what seemed like moments later to cradle Hansons lifeless body in his arms as he slowly bled to death. Dorens father stood over them body just blankly staring at now his second sons death imminent before him, this time though, through his own doing. Doren could not hear, voices made no sense as his sanity reeled watching his closest brother die within his arms this night. Two brothers now gone.... only he remained.

A week later his father took his own life in light of what he'd done. He could not live with the fact it seemed that this was his doing this second time around. Death was nothing new to Doren, in fact his brothers, and in a sick way even his own father gave him the drive to stop things like this from happening in his profession. Doren was far from perfect, and death was nothing new to him.... however needless death was something that struck cords too close to home and heart for his liking.

Doren quickly shook his head trying to clear his thoughts of his past and looked ahead at awe inspiring beauty of White Vale to try and 'change the subject' within his own mind.

 

[HolyMan]

Quiet after learning that Munsu is indeed the manipulator behind The Cloak, Torath goes silent. He stares off into space as the assassin is interrogated and beaten. He follows along after he finally notices the others are leaving, and does not react at all to the body of the dead wizard.

Torath's world has turned upside down and he is lost in it for the moment.

 

[industrygothica]

"A traitor," Bearn spits. "I oughtta resurrect him just so's I can kill him again!"

 

[DistractingFlare]

You soon arrive at the Queen's home. It's a modest dwelling, no different from any of the other little houses that line the winding dirt trails of The White Vale. As you enter, the guards deposit Thomas' body outside.

As the guards enter, the Queen stands up from a heavy-looking wooden table. Behind her is a roaring fireplace, and leaning in the corner is a wooden staff, gilded with an intricate design.

"What is the report?" she questions.

One of the guards steps forward. "My lady, the wizard has been slain. He attacked Rowan and myself, and we were forced to engage him. The body is outside, should you wish to inspect it, majesty."

"That won't be necessary, Ash. I'll allow our friends to look at the body, though. Perhaps it would help with their investigations."

Springseer looks at you all.

"I am sorry about the loss of your companion. Perhaps you will discover his reasons in time. For now, do not think ill of him."

She stops for a moment, the worry vanishing from her face. Instead, she wears an expression of gratitude.

"My dear friends, a thousand thanks for saving me. I owe you an honor debt that may never be fully repaid. Please, my friends, would you do me the honor of accompanying me to the Spring Festival tonight as my escorts and bodyguards? It would be a tremendous gift. If you like, you can prepare yourselves here, and take respite until the feast."

Springseer dismisses the guards, then withdraws a large green and gold sack, placing it on the table.

"Please also take this as a reward for your services. Now what do you say, my dear protectors? Will you accompany me tonight?"

[sblock=Reward]In the bag, you find the equivalent to 15,000 gp, which you may split and spend any way you decide. While within the White Vale, you may purchase magic items from the queen or from a local item shop.

Additionally, you are now level 4! Please submit your changes to the OOC thread for my revision. Congratulations![/sblock]

 

[Phaezen]

Squeal, Warforged barbarian

Squeal looks at the dead body of the mage who had been standing trial with it.

The warforged, fresh out of the forge moved to it's designated rallying point when a raving creature charged at them, brandishing a viscous spear. Moving with precision the warforged moved to protect itself.

A slash of a longsword shattered the spear, the tip embedding itself in the shoulder of the construct, causing the squealing noise of grating metal as the machine butchered it's attacker.

After a few moments a wizard moved from the shadows and examined the warforged's handiwork. "This one appears to be performing within acceptable parameters. Give it the designation Squeal and send it to the artificers for repair and deployment"

Squeal stood watching the cooling corpse of the slave who had been sacrificed to test it and felt an odd sensation, purpose.

 

[industrygothica]

Baern's gaze travels from Thomas to the fireplace, and again his mind wonders back to his childhood.

"Ye done good, laddie!" A hard pat on the shoulder accompanied the compliment, though from whom it was he could no longer recall.

It do feel good, he admitted to himself. But at what cost? A score of dwarves were lined up along the hewn walls of the Great Hall, and three times that many ogres lay in a pile ready to be hauled off to the furnaces. Young ones like Baern weren't normally allowed to witness these things until they were a bit older, but the elders made the exception after he'd proven himself in the battle.

Then there was another hard pat on the shoulder, the second of many that day, and for the weeks to come. "Best get to the haulin' afore they start stinkin' up The Hall." He was sure he'd known who said it at the time, but the memory was old, and hadn't come to him in a long time.

The furnaces lit almost instantly, despite having not been used for a decade or more. One by one the dead ogres were thrown inside, and Baern watched and steeled his stomach as their melting flesh peeled away from their blackening bones until each was but a pile of ash.

As the last ogre was thrown into the furnace, yet one more hand clasped his shoulder, and Baern winced. It was the king himself.

"Ye done good boy," he said. "Quite a sight here, ain't it? An' the smell'll stick with ye through to yer dyin' days, don't ye doubt. But ye done good, and ye stuck with it through the end t'make sure it's finished. Ye done the Stoneheart name proud today son. Ye done yer mammy proud, too.
----------------

Baern accepts the Queens thanks, as he had the king's that day. "Aye, meself'll be comin' with ye. We'll see this thing through, one way or another."

 

[Rathan]

Having shaken his thoughts thoroughly by now he listened carefully to M'Lady Springseer and even bowed after giving them praise and reward his smiling finally returning to his lips once more as he addressed her once more properly.

"M'Lady, you honor us too much here today for something that at least in my eyes we are honor bound to do. The reward is too much, however we are many and we will use this boon in our efforts to thwart Mansu and his devious plot.... whatever it may be." Doren said calmly and confidently.

"Speaking for myself it would be my honor to accompany you to the festival with my friends and allies here this night." Doren added with a huge charming smile.

 

[HolyMan]

Everything was happening so fast and Torath struggled to keep up with the world around him. Munsu causing trouble, which is what he is know to do, but he was not to cause trouble in Torath's life. Or was this a test?

Torath shook his head, it was to much to think on. Munsu, Thomas, and possibly another attempt on the queen. And as he walked by the slain wizard he felt a moment of... envy? There lies a man now at peace in the realm after life.

"The gods take their own in and provide and shelter them, as reward for their service here in the living realm." Torath remembered learning long ago.

Looking again at the wizard the envy is still there. No wants, every desire filled and you spend endless days in song and laughter. Torath says to himself. A tear forms at the corner of his eye, Mother I am sorry you died bring me into the world, but I know The Four are treating you well.