StalkingBlue
First Post
Cool account, Leo. Wonderfully dark mood.
Lost City of Gaxmoor - The Borderlands Campaign
- Thread starter S'mon
- Start date
StalkingBlue
First Post
Cho's account might go here if I have time to write it. Which most likely won't be before next Sunday's game, so I'm being cocky and reserving space. Wouldn't want to upset chronological order. 
Edit: Here it comes.
---
Little Black Snow
It has been instants. The snapping of an insanely huge maw around her, the coiling of a scaly body, the fetid tunnel waters boiling up and over her. Her head snaps back, she scrambles for the thread holding her to the Void but the thread shivers, breaks under the strain. Focus. Focus!! Ribs snap and her spine is slipping apart under the pressure of the monster’s giant jaws, limbs going out like dying candles; then the very water implodes around her and an unbearable whiteness sears her inside and out –
… no balance …
Snow whirls as her little feet patter down the path. “Jifu, Ji-Jifu!” Father, little father. “You are back! Are you back?”
He catches her and swings her into his embrace. Ice crackles on his quilted sleeves. “Snow, my girl. My own Little Black Snow.” He’s smelling of frost and travel and old beard.
“What have you brought me, father? What have you brought me? Did you see the Guardians?”
… no balance … without faith …
A face as large as the sky, whispering a song: shapes and words hazy in the mists of memory. Safe. A mother’s nuzzling flesh …
… no faith … without love …
Fabric tears under the shepherd’s crippled hand as she folds into their shared need: another rend in a shirt already almost past mending. At this instant, neither of them cares.
“Why now?” she whispers as their mouths mingle. “Why only now?”
“Because you are healed.” Because you are leaving.
“Why don’t you hate me? You should hate me …”
… no love … without balance …
… no … balance …
No! Where?! Where are you, Lady? I have lost you! I have lost my path.
I am here, Child. I am always here.
I have failed you. I died?
You are here.
But why now? I cannot die now! I have not –
You are here, Child. That path ends.
I have failed my friends.
And as that last thought pearls away, with it, or an aeon later, rides acceptance, and quiet.
Time wheels. Aeons of peace spread, a pair of dark, endless wings. No more meaning. Balance at last.
***
Balance.
***
Far away, a calling. A groping. A ripple in the quiet.
All that still remains turns away from that imperfection. No.
The ripple spreads; shimmers with sorrow; and with a promise of pain.
No!
But already the balance is broken.
Please no …
They were your friends once. They are searching for you. They have made sacrifices.
Will I go then? she asks sadly.
Would you stay, Child of Crane?
It is, of course, not a question.
I shall go if you command me, Lady. I am ready.
So she summons what strength she can find here: fragments of an unbeating, heavy heart. Memory. Focus, long shattered and forgotten. And as peace and quiet peel away from her in layers, a new path begins.
Edit: Here it comes.
---
Little Black Snow
It has been instants. The snapping of an insanely huge maw around her, the coiling of a scaly body, the fetid tunnel waters boiling up and over her. Her head snaps back, she scrambles for the thread holding her to the Void but the thread shivers, breaks under the strain. Focus. Focus!! Ribs snap and her spine is slipping apart under the pressure of the monster’s giant jaws, limbs going out like dying candles; then the very water implodes around her and an unbearable whiteness sears her inside and out –
… no balance …
Snow whirls as her little feet patter down the path. “Jifu, Ji-Jifu!” Father, little father. “You are back! Are you back?”
He catches her and swings her into his embrace. Ice crackles on his quilted sleeves. “Snow, my girl. My own Little Black Snow.” He’s smelling of frost and travel and old beard.
“What have you brought me, father? What have you brought me? Did you see the Guardians?”
… no balance … without faith …
A face as large as the sky, whispering a song: shapes and words hazy in the mists of memory. Safe. A mother’s nuzzling flesh …
… no faith … without love …
Fabric tears under the shepherd’s crippled hand as she folds into their shared need: another rend in a shirt already almost past mending. At this instant, neither of them cares.
“Why now?” she whispers as their mouths mingle. “Why only now?”
“Because you are healed.” Because you are leaving.
“Why don’t you hate me? You should hate me …”
… no love … without balance …
… no … balance …
No! Where?! Where are you, Lady? I have lost you! I have lost my path.
I am here, Child. I am always here.
I have failed you. I died?
You are here.
But why now? I cannot die now! I have not –
You are here, Child. That path ends.
I have failed my friends.
And as that last thought pearls away, with it, or an aeon later, rides acceptance, and quiet.
Time wheels. Aeons of peace spread, a pair of dark, endless wings. No more meaning. Balance at last.
***
Balance.
***
Far away, a calling. A groping. A ripple in the quiet.
All that still remains turns away from that imperfection. No.
The ripple spreads; shimmers with sorrow; and with a promise of pain.
No!
But already the balance is broken.
Please no …
They were your friends once. They are searching for you. They have made sacrifices.
Will I go then? she asks sadly.
Would you stay, Child of Crane?
It is, of course, not a question.
I shall go if you command me, Lady. I am ready.
So she summons what strength she can find here: fragments of an unbeating, heavy heart. Memory. Focus, long shattered and forgotten. And as peace and quiet peel away from her in layers, a new path begins.
Last edited:
Tallarn said:One small correction, so far as I remember it was Xiang who broke the statue of Set, not the Hound Archon. I only say it because I was able to avoid the effects of it's little speech due to the Shield of Green Fire.
Well if we are being pedantic I think AOS & Xiang struck it pretty much simultainiously
. The Hound Archon definately wasn't involved.(AOS's account to go here
)Leo's account
Mountain Slaughter
Gods what a disaster! Leo blinked, making sure of reality. Yes, he was in the teleport chamber of the White Way Tower in Gaxmoor. Yes, the Shield Guardian was staring at him impassively. He lurched to the side of the room. He was hyperventilating. Every single bone and muscle in his body hurt abominably. He looked at himself and grimaced. He was a mess. His clothes were little more than tattered rags and he was covered in blood. His blood. It still oozed out of several massive cuts and gashes scattered throughout his body. Thank the gods they were beginning to clot. He stared briefly at one of the Bracers that had been revealed through the remnants of his shirtsleeve. It was a wondrous piece of craftsmanship, covered in sigils and runes. It was very expensive. It took a very long time to make during endless days of frustration, sleeplessness and agony. It had just saved his life. He closed his eyes briefly. He saw flashes of orcs, ogres, trolls and above all than damnable hill giant. The massive club struck him again and again. Leo was still reliving those blows. His shoulder and ribs were reliving those blows. Quickly he opened his eyes again.
Suddenly the Shield Guardian tensed as the teleport circle in the chamber lit up. Barak and Sigurd appeared. Leo breathed a sigh or relief and then asked “Aos? Titania?” The other two shook their heads.
Leo cursed in a way he had rarely done before and then he got up and unsteadily made his way to his quarters and slumped on his cot.
A few minutes later Dovistar burst into his room.
“Leo! My gods man what happened? Look at you”.
With that the old mage hurried out of the room. Things moved quickly after that. First a bath was brought into the room, filled with hot water. Leo carefully bathed. The water turned red. He was only allowed a brief period of privacy. New clothes were brought into his room. A priest was sent for. Food was brought Leo was finally beginning to feel a little more human. Some time later, Leo had bathed, drank and eaten. He received notice that a priest and some other people had come to the tower. Some more of the Heroes. “Praise the Gods” thought Leo. “Tarquin did what I thought he would”. As time went on, his cohort priest was turning out to be more and more reliable and powerful.
Looking refreshed Leo went to greet his other friends. He found Tarquin, Xiang and Saphie, together with Barak and Sigurd waiting for him. Dovistar and Laera were also in the room.
Leo looked at everyone. “I presume everyone knows about Aos and Titania. I may have had my differences with the man but he didn’t lack courage and he was very effective at combat. He certainly didn’t deserve to die the way he did. Titania was a great help to the group. She knew things no one else did. She had very useful spells and her music lifted our spirits. I say we heal, rest, learn from our mistakes, review our tactics and then go up there to clear that place out for good. If we don’t, that miserable cambion and his oversized monstrosities will sweep through the lands of Gaxmoor laying waste to all before them in the winter. No one will survive. They will burn, pillage and enslave. And the goddess Hel shall rule the land.”
Leo spoke calmly. He had come to the conclusion that this was Heracules’s last throw. It was also his most dangerous. Using the giants as shock troops and combining them with the remnants of his last army could spell the end of Kanor’s rule of the Borderlands. This would also be in combination with a winter campaign, something most soldiers dreaded.
Laera chimed in at this point. “Leo, what happened?”
“What happened? Too much and not enough. First, Cho decided to continue in her travels I think. To be honest I don’t know. When we were ready to go she was nowhere to be found. I did contact her with a Sending and she told me that she must follow another path right now. So be it, I wish her luck. We may or may not see her again. She knows where we are.
Fortunately, the Margrave had managed to gain the services of Rhianne, a druid. I must confess I don’t know a great deal about druids. It is a mysterious branch of the spellcasting network but from what little I have heard I know they can be very powerful and useful. Especially outdoors. She was most welcome; and of course, you know Barak decided to join our little group. So, we gained some powerful allies even though we had lost Cho and Elros.
Anyway, the Margrave invited us to the palace to discuss our problems. You know these of course. We have discussed some of them before. The Mongali are gathering. It is easy to see where they are going. It is impossible to know where they are going to stop. Luckily we did manage to get that Treaty with the Makyans. That could just turn them North. We will see.
However, we were discussing more immediate problems, namely Heracules and his alliance with the Frost Giant Jarl. We now know he is named Gungir. Not only is he the Jarl but he is also a priest of Thrim, some giant deity.
Kanor told us that Gysshk had been in touch with him. He claimed to know the location of Gugnir’s secret fortress. To cut a long story short, we discussed the situation to an extent and then Xiang, Aos and I went to get the hobgoblin. He lives in Carrisqui. We teleported there, had a quick discussion, handed over his fee and he agreed to come back with us. Once here, he gave us the location. It is a fortress in the Dosk Heights. Not in a desolate, icy wasteland, but in the more temperate accessible zone, lower down the mountains. There is a gorge with a stream running through it. It is quite picturesque if you like that kind of thing. On one side there was an entrance which has been artificially worked. Gysshk was familiar with the layout but he believed that the giants had done quite a large amount of enlarging and digging. So, he gave us a good description of the place. Good enough that Tarquin could locate it with magical means.”
Dovistar and Laera looked at Tarquin. Whilst they couldn’t cast the spell to which Leo referred, they knew of its existence and they also knew the level of seniority needed to use it. It was quite possible that he was now the most senior priest of Urnus Gregaria. He certainly was in Gaxmoor. It was fortunate that this God was a remote, travelling deity who did not believe in interfering with the lives of mortals. It made the religion much quieter.
“So, to continue the story. We decided the travel there on phantom steeds. It was very taxing on my daily spell learning but it was worth it for the distance we traveled in just a couple of the days. Little of note happened. We ran into some large boars, you know, the enormous ones; we also found out that Rhianne could change into an eagle shape. Useful ability although she couldn’t keep up with our speed. She could also talk to animals. One morning we found a gigantic bear eating the boars we killed and she just talked to it so instead of it trying to have us for desert we just went around it. Anyway, so we get to the area. Rhianne flies around and finds the entrance; it is an archway with a ledge in front of it. Vast amounts of rubbish have been thrown over the slope. She also saw an orc, which confirmed it was the place we were looking for. Having had to cast nine spells on that day already and with the possibility of facing Heracules, his entourage, a spell casting Frost Giant and at least a further dozen Frost Giants never mind what else was in there, I really felt that I should replenish my magic. Barak then bravely volunteered to see if he could scout the entrance part of the cave.”
Leo smiled at his former teacher.
“Barak always did have more courage than most of the wizards I know. Anyway, we cast some effects on him. He could now fly and he was also invisible. Then we settled down to wait.”
Leo looked at Dovistar to see the old mage was frowning.
“We arrived there in the morning; we had to use some time before we cast the Rope Tricks and climbed in them to sleep. So Barak went scouting. He came back a little time later, very agitated. He found a large antechamber, with a guard consisting of an ettin, a Frost Giant, a Hill Giant and a troll. Unfortunately, they also spotted him and he had to get out fast. We surmised that they are likely to send out a scouting party to find out what was going on. Rhianne volunteered to go and oversee the entrance. Unfortunately, that is the last we heard from her. I have a horrible feeling about that. Tomorrow I am going to try to cast a Sending to her. I must confess I am not very hopeful of the result.
So, in spite of Rhianne, suddenly about a dozen orcs appeared from the wilderness around us. They are quite tough for orcs but by the time Xiang, Aos, Sigurd and Barak finished with them, they are wiped out to a man.
We had an argument then. A part of the group wanted to follow up our “advantage”. Twelve orcs. Considering what came later that’s some advantage.
So, after the discussion we rode out on the Phantom Steeds for several hours. The next day, we came back at dusk, ready to cast the Rope Tricks to learn our spells for the coming battle.
We cast the spells and went to sleep. Somehow or other that misbegotten, miserable, unnatural demonspawn found them. His demon mother must have shown them to him or something. Dovistar, you know how hard it is to find a Rope Trick. Anyway, the next thing I know, a Hill Giant is in front of me, having squeezed through the window. He lays into me. Soon he is joined by a troll and then two orcs. At this stage of course I am screaming for the others to wake up. Anyway, all of these monsters beat the living daylights out of me as you saw but at the last moment I managed to dismiss the Rope Tricks and then just get the hells out of there, trusting that Tarquin will get the other two out. Obviously he did. Thank the gods. Just before I left, I spotted several more frost giants, together with many more orcs, and ogres. I didn’t really bother counting.”
He turns to Barak. “What happened in your Trick?”
Barak answered: “Pretty much the same. Except that we had Heracules climb into ours. He and his mates did for Titania and Aos.”
Leo groaned inwardly. That meant that the chances of recovering the remains of their two comrades were non existent.
He turned to the others and said. “Saphie, would you be so kind as to inform your brother of the latest happenings. This has been a disaster. We cannot avoid that description of events. Recently we have lost Elros, Aos, Titania, and Cho has left us. That is too many comrades. However, it could have been worse. Under the circumstances we could all have died. We must send word to the druids that one of theirs has fallen and who was responsible. Looking for a positive side, we now have a much clearer idea of what we face. I think it is also likely that when we return Heracules will still be there. Why should he leave? He beat us with ease this time. He probably can’t wait to meet us again while he drinks out of Aos’s skull.
If you please, I am now very tired and I need to rest. I hurt all over.”
Leo then stood up and made to leave the room. In the doorway, he turned around and pointed to Sigurd. “Oh Dovistar, before I forget, please meet the new King of Trafalgis. He is very well disposed to both the White Way and the Temple of Urnus Gregaria. At some point we must talk about that.”
With that, Leo left the room.
Mountain Slaughter
Gods what a disaster! Leo blinked, making sure of reality. Yes, he was in the teleport chamber of the White Way Tower in Gaxmoor. Yes, the Shield Guardian was staring at him impassively. He lurched to the side of the room. He was hyperventilating. Every single bone and muscle in his body hurt abominably. He looked at himself and grimaced. He was a mess. His clothes were little more than tattered rags and he was covered in blood. His blood. It still oozed out of several massive cuts and gashes scattered throughout his body. Thank the gods they were beginning to clot. He stared briefly at one of the Bracers that had been revealed through the remnants of his shirtsleeve. It was a wondrous piece of craftsmanship, covered in sigils and runes. It was very expensive. It took a very long time to make during endless days of frustration, sleeplessness and agony. It had just saved his life. He closed his eyes briefly. He saw flashes of orcs, ogres, trolls and above all than damnable hill giant. The massive club struck him again and again. Leo was still reliving those blows. His shoulder and ribs were reliving those blows. Quickly he opened his eyes again.
Suddenly the Shield Guardian tensed as the teleport circle in the chamber lit up. Barak and Sigurd appeared. Leo breathed a sigh or relief and then asked “Aos? Titania?” The other two shook their heads.
Leo cursed in a way he had rarely done before and then he got up and unsteadily made his way to his quarters and slumped on his cot.
A few minutes later Dovistar burst into his room.
“Leo! My gods man what happened? Look at you”.
With that the old mage hurried out of the room. Things moved quickly after that. First a bath was brought into the room, filled with hot water. Leo carefully bathed. The water turned red. He was only allowed a brief period of privacy. New clothes were brought into his room. A priest was sent for. Food was brought Leo was finally beginning to feel a little more human. Some time later, Leo had bathed, drank and eaten. He received notice that a priest and some other people had come to the tower. Some more of the Heroes. “Praise the Gods” thought Leo. “Tarquin did what I thought he would”. As time went on, his cohort priest was turning out to be more and more reliable and powerful.
Looking refreshed Leo went to greet his other friends. He found Tarquin, Xiang and Saphie, together with Barak and Sigurd waiting for him. Dovistar and Laera were also in the room.
Leo looked at everyone. “I presume everyone knows about Aos and Titania. I may have had my differences with the man but he didn’t lack courage and he was very effective at combat. He certainly didn’t deserve to die the way he did. Titania was a great help to the group. She knew things no one else did. She had very useful spells and her music lifted our spirits. I say we heal, rest, learn from our mistakes, review our tactics and then go up there to clear that place out for good. If we don’t, that miserable cambion and his oversized monstrosities will sweep through the lands of Gaxmoor laying waste to all before them in the winter. No one will survive. They will burn, pillage and enslave. And the goddess Hel shall rule the land.”
Leo spoke calmly. He had come to the conclusion that this was Heracules’s last throw. It was also his most dangerous. Using the giants as shock troops and combining them with the remnants of his last army could spell the end of Kanor’s rule of the Borderlands. This would also be in combination with a winter campaign, something most soldiers dreaded.
Laera chimed in at this point. “Leo, what happened?”
“What happened? Too much and not enough. First, Cho decided to continue in her travels I think. To be honest I don’t know. When we were ready to go she was nowhere to be found. I did contact her with a Sending and she told me that she must follow another path right now. So be it, I wish her luck. We may or may not see her again. She knows where we are.
Fortunately, the Margrave had managed to gain the services of Rhianne, a druid. I must confess I don’t know a great deal about druids. It is a mysterious branch of the spellcasting network but from what little I have heard I know they can be very powerful and useful. Especially outdoors. She was most welcome; and of course, you know Barak decided to join our little group. So, we gained some powerful allies even though we had lost Cho and Elros.
Anyway, the Margrave invited us to the palace to discuss our problems. You know these of course. We have discussed some of them before. The Mongali are gathering. It is easy to see where they are going. It is impossible to know where they are going to stop. Luckily we did manage to get that Treaty with the Makyans. That could just turn them North. We will see.
However, we were discussing more immediate problems, namely Heracules and his alliance with the Frost Giant Jarl. We now know he is named Gungir. Not only is he the Jarl but he is also a priest of Thrim, some giant deity.
Kanor told us that Gysshk had been in touch with him. He claimed to know the location of Gugnir’s secret fortress. To cut a long story short, we discussed the situation to an extent and then Xiang, Aos and I went to get the hobgoblin. He lives in Carrisqui. We teleported there, had a quick discussion, handed over his fee and he agreed to come back with us. Once here, he gave us the location. It is a fortress in the Dosk Heights. Not in a desolate, icy wasteland, but in the more temperate accessible zone, lower down the mountains. There is a gorge with a stream running through it. It is quite picturesque if you like that kind of thing. On one side there was an entrance which has been artificially worked. Gysshk was familiar with the layout but he believed that the giants had done quite a large amount of enlarging and digging. So, he gave us a good description of the place. Good enough that Tarquin could locate it with magical means.”
Dovistar and Laera looked at Tarquin. Whilst they couldn’t cast the spell to which Leo referred, they knew of its existence and they also knew the level of seniority needed to use it. It was quite possible that he was now the most senior priest of Urnus Gregaria. He certainly was in Gaxmoor. It was fortunate that this God was a remote, travelling deity who did not believe in interfering with the lives of mortals. It made the religion much quieter.
“So, to continue the story. We decided the travel there on phantom steeds. It was very taxing on my daily spell learning but it was worth it for the distance we traveled in just a couple of the days. Little of note happened. We ran into some large boars, you know, the enormous ones; we also found out that Rhianne could change into an eagle shape. Useful ability although she couldn’t keep up with our speed. She could also talk to animals. One morning we found a gigantic bear eating the boars we killed and she just talked to it so instead of it trying to have us for desert we just went around it. Anyway, so we get to the area. Rhianne flies around and finds the entrance; it is an archway with a ledge in front of it. Vast amounts of rubbish have been thrown over the slope. She also saw an orc, which confirmed it was the place we were looking for. Having had to cast nine spells on that day already and with the possibility of facing Heracules, his entourage, a spell casting Frost Giant and at least a further dozen Frost Giants never mind what else was in there, I really felt that I should replenish my magic. Barak then bravely volunteered to see if he could scout the entrance part of the cave.”
Leo smiled at his former teacher.
“Barak always did have more courage than most of the wizards I know. Anyway, we cast some effects on him. He could now fly and he was also invisible. Then we settled down to wait.”
Leo looked at Dovistar to see the old mage was frowning.
“We arrived there in the morning; we had to use some time before we cast the Rope Tricks and climbed in them to sleep. So Barak went scouting. He came back a little time later, very agitated. He found a large antechamber, with a guard consisting of an ettin, a Frost Giant, a Hill Giant and a troll. Unfortunately, they also spotted him and he had to get out fast. We surmised that they are likely to send out a scouting party to find out what was going on. Rhianne volunteered to go and oversee the entrance. Unfortunately, that is the last we heard from her. I have a horrible feeling about that. Tomorrow I am going to try to cast a Sending to her. I must confess I am not very hopeful of the result.
So, in spite of Rhianne, suddenly about a dozen orcs appeared from the wilderness around us. They are quite tough for orcs but by the time Xiang, Aos, Sigurd and Barak finished with them, they are wiped out to a man.
We had an argument then. A part of the group wanted to follow up our “advantage”. Twelve orcs. Considering what came later that’s some advantage.
So, after the discussion we rode out on the Phantom Steeds for several hours. The next day, we came back at dusk, ready to cast the Rope Tricks to learn our spells for the coming battle.
We cast the spells and went to sleep. Somehow or other that misbegotten, miserable, unnatural demonspawn found them. His demon mother must have shown them to him or something. Dovistar, you know how hard it is to find a Rope Trick. Anyway, the next thing I know, a Hill Giant is in front of me, having squeezed through the window. He lays into me. Soon he is joined by a troll and then two orcs. At this stage of course I am screaming for the others to wake up. Anyway, all of these monsters beat the living daylights out of me as you saw but at the last moment I managed to dismiss the Rope Tricks and then just get the hells out of there, trusting that Tarquin will get the other two out. Obviously he did. Thank the gods. Just before I left, I spotted several more frost giants, together with many more orcs, and ogres. I didn’t really bother counting.”
He turns to Barak. “What happened in your Trick?”
Barak answered: “Pretty much the same. Except that we had Heracules climb into ours. He and his mates did for Titania and Aos.”
Leo groaned inwardly. That meant that the chances of recovering the remains of their two comrades were non existent.
He turned to the others and said. “Saphie, would you be so kind as to inform your brother of the latest happenings. This has been a disaster. We cannot avoid that description of events. Recently we have lost Elros, Aos, Titania, and Cho has left us. That is too many comrades. However, it could have been worse. Under the circumstances we could all have died. We must send word to the druids that one of theirs has fallen and who was responsible. Looking for a positive side, we now have a much clearer idea of what we face. I think it is also likely that when we return Heracules will still be there. Why should he leave? He beat us with ease this time. He probably can’t wait to meet us again while he drinks out of Aos’s skull.
If you please, I am now very tired and I need to rest. I hurt all over.”
Leo then stood up and made to leave the room. In the doorway, he turned around and pointed to Sigurd. “Oh Dovistar, before I forget, please meet the new King of Trafalgis. He is very well disposed to both the White Way and the Temple of Urnus Gregaria. At some point we must talk about that.”
With that, Leo left the room.
Mathew_Freeman
Adventurer
Out of game note: for some reason, while I was out of the game, it was decided that Xiang would return to Gaxmoor. I've still not decided why this should be, and so I'm going to write this as though Xiang was teleported from the Pool of Hapy straight to the rest of the group at the Gorge of Osiris. Hopefully that'll still make sense.
After an amount of time at the Pool of Hapy, Xiang recieved a sending from Dovistar back in Gaxmoor. The others in the group had decided to return to the Gorge of Osiris, despite earlier misgivings, and wanted him along.
Xiang sighed. It seemed his brief and ill-concieved attempt to take some time away from the rest of them was doomed to failure.
Once again feeling the remarkable power of Dovistars Teleport Summoning spell, Xiang travelled the immense distance to Gaxmoor in an instant, arriving in the now almost familiar teleport chamber in the tower of the White Way. Xiang took a split second to ponder whether his skill at arms was enough to defeat the Shield Golem that stood watch, as he always did, and as ever resolved never to try. The White Way had gained many things through an association with the party, and it would be foolish in the extreme to ever get on the wrong side of them.
Still, it does no harm to question one's own ability. A quick conversation ensued with Dovistar, and he was sent onwards to the Gorge of Osiris.
A long discussion of events that he had missed ensued, with Aos excitedly pointing towards the various divine communications he had had, and their accuracy, Cho telling the story in her clean, precise manner, and Leo's somewhat dry account of events. The only section that really caught Xiang's attention was the armour they had recovered from the Tomb of Guthron.
"It did what? And you sold it to Ulfius?" Xiang was slightly shocked. To give such a powerful item to another when they knew it would enhance his power to an incredible amount...then he forced himself to think about things from the point of view of the others. They weren't sure that they'd see him again. The group that had recovered the armour made around 45,000gp each in selling it. At this point Xiang noticed that Tarquin seemed to be wearing Ulfius' old armour, meaning that Ulfius himself was now wearing the Armour. Combined with the Hammer that he weilded, Xiang reckoned that Ulfius was probably the most dangerous fighter in the area, possibly the world. He took a deep breath and put it behind him.
"So what now?" asked Xiang.
Leo filled in exactly what they were planning. It seemed that the Priests in the Temple were asking them to voyage in a magical boat to clear out an infestation of demon-crocodiles in the area underneath the Temple. Apparently these crocodiles were far larger than the one they had fought before. Cho spoke in the language that they shared that the Priests were not to be trusted, but that the group had come to no firm conclusion about what to do should this be proved.
Xiang shrugged. His job was to attack the enemies of the group, but given that so many in the group had quicker reflexes than him when it came to starting fights he normally just went with the flow. Once Aos started dancing around with his little rapier, his undoubted skill and speed working, Xiang's options quickly cleared up for him.
They re-entered the Temple. Xiang was also filled in on what the party had gone through to gain entry, and was extremely happy to learn that he had missed explaining what good and what evil he had done in his life. The question stayed with him was several days afterwards. What would he had answered? During his time serving under the command of Warmaster Kung, he had fought in many battles. But did that make his actions evil? He had, at that time, merely been a good soldier - following orders. At what point did he realise what he was doing, and begin thinking of the theft of the Spear and subsequent escape? And the deeds he had done with this group? Were they any better? All he had done was continued to kill things. In the end, Xiang did what he almost always did. He filed the thought away at the back of his mind and added it to the long, long list of things that he had to think about one day.
The main Temple Hall was certainly impressive. Shrines lined it's edges, each to a different Aryptian God or Goddess. Aos and Titania moved to one immediately, leaving a small donation. Xiang snorted quietly to himself - such a donation served no purpose. At Mount Fire, the Warmaster was considered almost a God himself, and to insult him by leaving a few paltry coins was to invite disaster. Far better to avoid the sight of the Gods entirely, unless you were prepared to draw their eye entirely upon you.
Leo was in conversation with the High Priest as to the exact nature of what was about to happen, and with a nod of assent from Priest began casting spells, including reading one from a scroll. As he completed the scroll, he turned and looked around the room again as if searching for something. The he looked directly at Aos and Cho and said "Come then, evil awaits."
There was an immediate sense of tension in the room. Elros in particular became very twitchy, pausing for several seconds before joining the rest of the group on the boat. There was a great sense of uncertainty around everyone, but after a few seconds the High Priest spoke an arcane word and the mysterious reed boat sank into the floor.
For several seconds the boat moved through solid stone before settling down neatly onto an underground river. The High Priest stood at the rear of it, and Aos moved up next to him. Sensing that this would be a good idea, Xiang joined him. The boat increased in speed, moving at a pace that could only be possible with magical assistance.
With a start, Xiang realised that Aos had stabbed the High Priest, who had clutched at his side and then vanished with his other hand upon an amulet. A short but intense argument followed, with Aos apologising for not grappling the Priest. Xiang kept his eyes on the water, now that the treachery was clear.
The boat moved into a larger cave, the walls opening out around them. Ahead was a small island, with some sort of structure upon it surrounded by pillars. However, what really caught Xiang's attention was the large creature moving rapidly towards the boat. Shouts from other people indicated that there was more than one of these creatures. They looked similar to the demon-crocodile in the villlage, but larger...and with hippo heads? Xiang took a moment to be surprised, then set the Spear in readiness.
There was a brief moment of confusion as the demon reared up out of the water and placed it's front legs on the boat, snapping at Xiang with it's massive mouth and catching hold of him! Xiang scored a desperate scratch with the Spear, but struggled to escape the creature's grip. A low boom! behind him told him that Saphie was fireballing another one. Help was at hand as Tarquin moved across the boat and cast dismissal, sending the creature back to it's home plane! Xiang was relieved, such a creature was incredibly dangerous if it chose to try and drag him underwater.
Others in the boat were not fairing so well. Spinning around to assess the situation, Xiang was just in time to see Cho and Elros disappear off the boat in the jaws of two of the monsters, and that Aos had apparently escaped one by the skin of his teeth. Xiang fired a shot of White Foul Flame at the only visible creature, scorching it's side, and then moved forwards to strike at it with the Spear. Between himself and Aos, the creature was killed, but Cho and Elros had disappeared from sight. Leo cast a chain lightning into the water, but it seemed as though the two powerful warriors had been lost.
The boat floated quietly on towards the island. After quick discussion, the group attempted to move on. As they ascended the steps, various stange colours swirled around them. Xiang looked around at the various pillars, seeing scenes of evil worship taking place upon them. The central building was surrounded by four statues. Stopping the group, Leo sent his ever-present prying-eyes spell forwards. As an eye moved next to each statue, it spoke, speaking of the laying down of weapons or spell equipment that the weilders might worship inside and promising greater treasures inside.
The group, as one, dismissed this idea.
Moving forwards, the statues animated one at a time. And one at a time Xiang and Aos slew them. The fight was short and brutal. To attempt an entry to the temple, Saphie summoned a Hound Archon, and bid it open the gates. As it did so, Xiang invoked the Shield of Green Fire to protect him from any magical effects that might affect his mind.
The statue of Set inside came as no great surprise to anyone. And when it spoke, telling all present to bow down and worship him, Xiang felt the enchantment roll off his Shield, and stepped forwards. One blow from the Spear and the statue crumbled, broken. Only Tarquin had fallen for it's enchantment, and he quickly regained his composure.
Exiting the temple, it was clear that destroying the statue had had a powerful effect. The columns now showed pictures of Osiris worship, and a pathway of light led across to a ledge on the far side of the water. Saphie attempted to determine if the guardian creatures had been dismissed as well, allowing recovery of the dead party members, but it became clear that they were still there. She hurridley retreated.
Moving across the pathway, the group found a bas relief of a doorway surrounded by other images. Four of the images were those of the statues outside the temple, and the group quickly determined that the heads could be moved. Moving the heads in the order the statues had attacked them in, and then opening the door, a long upwards leading corridor was revealed.
The party advanced cautiously, but after a fair distance they felt a tug, and were swept forwards. A voice boomed in their heads as Set claimed them for his own...and then a second voice, that of Aos' Goddess spoke and rescued them! As vision cleared, everyone found themselves in the Gaxmoor teleportation chamber.
Once Dovistar had been brought up to speed, he agreed to teach Leo a powerful spell - limited wish. With this spell, it was hoped that the bodies of Cho and Elros could be recovered. The following day, Leo and Dovistar worked their magics togther, returning the bodies to the Tower of the White Way. Both were in a bad way, but Elros had lost his head and was thus unable to be resurrected. Cho's body was taken to the Temple of Urnus Gregaria, and with the help of the High Priest and Tarquin was returned to life.
The mission had been a failure, but word from Arypt arrived. The group had achieved some sort of success, since they now held several of the items that the undead lord needed to gain full power. Without them, he could only threaten a small area...it seemed by luck more than judgement the party had succeeded.
After an amount of time at the Pool of Hapy, Xiang recieved a sending from Dovistar back in Gaxmoor. The others in the group had decided to return to the Gorge of Osiris, despite earlier misgivings, and wanted him along.
Xiang sighed. It seemed his brief and ill-concieved attempt to take some time away from the rest of them was doomed to failure.
Once again feeling the remarkable power of Dovistars Teleport Summoning spell, Xiang travelled the immense distance to Gaxmoor in an instant, arriving in the now almost familiar teleport chamber in the tower of the White Way. Xiang took a split second to ponder whether his skill at arms was enough to defeat the Shield Golem that stood watch, as he always did, and as ever resolved never to try. The White Way had gained many things through an association with the party, and it would be foolish in the extreme to ever get on the wrong side of them.
Still, it does no harm to question one's own ability. A quick conversation ensued with Dovistar, and he was sent onwards to the Gorge of Osiris.
A long discussion of events that he had missed ensued, with Aos excitedly pointing towards the various divine communications he had had, and their accuracy, Cho telling the story in her clean, precise manner, and Leo's somewhat dry account of events. The only section that really caught Xiang's attention was the armour they had recovered from the Tomb of Guthron.
"It did what? And you sold it to Ulfius?" Xiang was slightly shocked. To give such a powerful item to another when they knew it would enhance his power to an incredible amount...then he forced himself to think about things from the point of view of the others. They weren't sure that they'd see him again. The group that had recovered the armour made around 45,000gp each in selling it. At this point Xiang noticed that Tarquin seemed to be wearing Ulfius' old armour, meaning that Ulfius himself was now wearing the Armour. Combined with the Hammer that he weilded, Xiang reckoned that Ulfius was probably the most dangerous fighter in the area, possibly the world. He took a deep breath and put it behind him.
"So what now?" asked Xiang.
Leo filled in exactly what they were planning. It seemed that the Priests in the Temple were asking them to voyage in a magical boat to clear out an infestation of demon-crocodiles in the area underneath the Temple. Apparently these crocodiles were far larger than the one they had fought before. Cho spoke in the language that they shared that the Priests were not to be trusted, but that the group had come to no firm conclusion about what to do should this be proved.
Xiang shrugged. His job was to attack the enemies of the group, but given that so many in the group had quicker reflexes than him when it came to starting fights he normally just went with the flow. Once Aos started dancing around with his little rapier, his undoubted skill and speed working, Xiang's options quickly cleared up for him.
They re-entered the Temple. Xiang was also filled in on what the party had gone through to gain entry, and was extremely happy to learn that he had missed explaining what good and what evil he had done in his life. The question stayed with him was several days afterwards. What would he had answered? During his time serving under the command of Warmaster Kung, he had fought in many battles. But did that make his actions evil? He had, at that time, merely been a good soldier - following orders. At what point did he realise what he was doing, and begin thinking of the theft of the Spear and subsequent escape? And the deeds he had done with this group? Were they any better? All he had done was continued to kill things. In the end, Xiang did what he almost always did. He filed the thought away at the back of his mind and added it to the long, long list of things that he had to think about one day.
The main Temple Hall was certainly impressive. Shrines lined it's edges, each to a different Aryptian God or Goddess. Aos and Titania moved to one immediately, leaving a small donation. Xiang snorted quietly to himself - such a donation served no purpose. At Mount Fire, the Warmaster was considered almost a God himself, and to insult him by leaving a few paltry coins was to invite disaster. Far better to avoid the sight of the Gods entirely, unless you were prepared to draw their eye entirely upon you.
Leo was in conversation with the High Priest as to the exact nature of what was about to happen, and with a nod of assent from Priest began casting spells, including reading one from a scroll. As he completed the scroll, he turned and looked around the room again as if searching for something. The he looked directly at Aos and Cho and said "Come then, evil awaits."
There was an immediate sense of tension in the room. Elros in particular became very twitchy, pausing for several seconds before joining the rest of the group on the boat. There was a great sense of uncertainty around everyone, but after a few seconds the High Priest spoke an arcane word and the mysterious reed boat sank into the floor.
For several seconds the boat moved through solid stone before settling down neatly onto an underground river. The High Priest stood at the rear of it, and Aos moved up next to him. Sensing that this would be a good idea, Xiang joined him. The boat increased in speed, moving at a pace that could only be possible with magical assistance.
With a start, Xiang realised that Aos had stabbed the High Priest, who had clutched at his side and then vanished with his other hand upon an amulet. A short but intense argument followed, with Aos apologising for not grappling the Priest. Xiang kept his eyes on the water, now that the treachery was clear.
The boat moved into a larger cave, the walls opening out around them. Ahead was a small island, with some sort of structure upon it surrounded by pillars. However, what really caught Xiang's attention was the large creature moving rapidly towards the boat. Shouts from other people indicated that there was more than one of these creatures. They looked similar to the demon-crocodile in the villlage, but larger...and with hippo heads? Xiang took a moment to be surprised, then set the Spear in readiness.
There was a brief moment of confusion as the demon reared up out of the water and placed it's front legs on the boat, snapping at Xiang with it's massive mouth and catching hold of him! Xiang scored a desperate scratch with the Spear, but struggled to escape the creature's grip. A low boom! behind him told him that Saphie was fireballing another one. Help was at hand as Tarquin moved across the boat and cast dismissal, sending the creature back to it's home plane! Xiang was relieved, such a creature was incredibly dangerous if it chose to try and drag him underwater.
Others in the boat were not fairing so well. Spinning around to assess the situation, Xiang was just in time to see Cho and Elros disappear off the boat in the jaws of two of the monsters, and that Aos had apparently escaped one by the skin of his teeth. Xiang fired a shot of White Foul Flame at the only visible creature, scorching it's side, and then moved forwards to strike at it with the Spear. Between himself and Aos, the creature was killed, but Cho and Elros had disappeared from sight. Leo cast a chain lightning into the water, but it seemed as though the two powerful warriors had been lost.
The boat floated quietly on towards the island. After quick discussion, the group attempted to move on. As they ascended the steps, various stange colours swirled around them. Xiang looked around at the various pillars, seeing scenes of evil worship taking place upon them. The central building was surrounded by four statues. Stopping the group, Leo sent his ever-present prying-eyes spell forwards. As an eye moved next to each statue, it spoke, speaking of the laying down of weapons or spell equipment that the weilders might worship inside and promising greater treasures inside.
The group, as one, dismissed this idea.
Moving forwards, the statues animated one at a time. And one at a time Xiang and Aos slew them. The fight was short and brutal. To attempt an entry to the temple, Saphie summoned a Hound Archon, and bid it open the gates. As it did so, Xiang invoked the Shield of Green Fire to protect him from any magical effects that might affect his mind.
The statue of Set inside came as no great surprise to anyone. And when it spoke, telling all present to bow down and worship him, Xiang felt the enchantment roll off his Shield, and stepped forwards. One blow from the Spear and the statue crumbled, broken. Only Tarquin had fallen for it's enchantment, and he quickly regained his composure.
Exiting the temple, it was clear that destroying the statue had had a powerful effect. The columns now showed pictures of Osiris worship, and a pathway of light led across to a ledge on the far side of the water. Saphie attempted to determine if the guardian creatures had been dismissed as well, allowing recovery of the dead party members, but it became clear that they were still there. She hurridley retreated.
Moving across the pathway, the group found a bas relief of a doorway surrounded by other images. Four of the images were those of the statues outside the temple, and the group quickly determined that the heads could be moved. Moving the heads in the order the statues had attacked them in, and then opening the door, a long upwards leading corridor was revealed.
The party advanced cautiously, but after a fair distance they felt a tug, and were swept forwards. A voice boomed in their heads as Set claimed them for his own...and then a second voice, that of Aos' Goddess spoke and rescued them! As vision cleared, everyone found themselves in the Gaxmoor teleportation chamber.
Once Dovistar had been brought up to speed, he agreed to teach Leo a powerful spell - limited wish. With this spell, it was hoped that the bodies of Cho and Elros could be recovered. The following day, Leo and Dovistar worked their magics togther, returning the bodies to the Tower of the White Way. Both were in a bad way, but Elros had lost his head and was thus unable to be resurrected. Cho's body was taken to the Temple of Urnus Gregaria, and with the help of the High Priest and Tarquin was returned to life.
The mission had been a failure, but word from Arypt arrived. The group had achieved some sort of success, since they now held several of the items that the undead lord needed to gain full power. Without them, he could only threaten a small area...it seemed by luck more than judgement the party had succeeded.
StalkingBlue
First Post
Fantastic updates. Wonderful character flavour I thought.
I especially liked Leo's "...blood. His blood." And of course the deadpan mention of H using Aos's skull as a drinking cup.
And I loved Xiang's musings about whether and why not to challenge the White Way's Shield Guardian, and how to best keep away from the attentions of the gods.
I've also completed Cho's last account. I'm posting it in my last post above (the "reserved space").
I especially liked Leo's "...blood. His blood." And of course the deadpan mention of H using Aos's skull as a drinking cup.
And I loved Xiang's musings about whether and why not to challenge the White Way's Shield Guardian, and how to best keep away from the attentions of the gods.
I've also completed Cho's last account. I'm posting it in my last post above (the "reserved space").
Last edited:
Dispater
Explorer
Bit of background drop for you guys...
********
Kingdom
Cold wind and sleets of snow and ice swept against Sigurd's face as he came to the end of his journey. Through this bleak, mountainous landscape he had gone for several days without food or rest. Two Trafalgaric guards, eastlenders, looked up at him with curious faces as he stopped by their stand and dismounted. One of them intensified his look as he caught glimpse of a golden chainmail behind Sigurd's rain dripping, ragged cloak.
"Where be the Council Hall?"
"Up the hill, you'll see the Tower of Truth. The Jarls are gathered there today, sire."
"I know."
"And you are?"
"I am Sigurd."
The guard didn’t need more explaination. The rumours had travelled like the northern wind in the last few days.
"Jarl Sigurd, you are late. They feared you had been waylaid."
As expected. Sigurd could hear the raised voices of angry jarls even before set foot in the building. He handed his sword and cloak to the thralls, and walked up the long wooden stairs. Before the two massive doors leading to the Chamber of Kings, two honorary guards in full chain mail eyed him with fierce looks.
"The Council is in hearing."
"I can hear that."
Without giving more heed to the guards, he kicked the doors aside and they swung open. He stared into the circular room. The Chamber of Kings, finally. It was decorated with all the Jarls’ banners and their shields. They were all gathered around a huge, square table, and at the end of the room, stood the statues of bygone kings with their backs to a windows in red and blue painted glass. All chairs were occupied apart from two empy seats next to each other. He knew the simpler, wooden chair with a black raven burned into the back had long belonged to his ancestors, and now to him, whilst the royal throne, inlaid with gold and silver, had long stood empty. Sigurd strode right across the room. The Jarl of Sudvik, Harald Ulvson waved away the guards and raised his voice.
"Hail, Sigurd Ravenskjold, Son of Orm, Jarl of Ravenmark. We have long awaited your arrival. There are several urgent matters ahead."
"Hail Harald Ulvsson, Son of Ulv Jarsson. I appologise for my late arrival. I have travelled and crossed many dangerous perils in order to get where I am today." Odin knows, Sigurd thought.
"All hail!" The Jarls stood.
"Now sit, as one." The Sudvik Jarl kept the council by tradition. He owned one of the wealthiest and most successful trade fleet in the west and was at least by Trafalgaric standards considered a very powerful man.
"I have an… anouncement to make." Sigurd calmly put a hand on each of the chairs in front of him.
"Yes, why do you not sit first and listen, like it is custom?" Harald frowned. At this moment, Erik, Jarl of Eastmark jumped up and clenched his fist. A plump, red-haired man in his middle-years, Erik had acquired the title "Angry-Erik" upon his tendency to axe messengers who brought bad news, well in fact, any news.
"He dares touch the King's Chair!" The other jarls sighed and looked up at Sigurd.
"I come before you as the King. I have the final documents signed and approved by the Folksting. I have a legitimate claim to this throne."
"By Odin! Blasphemy! Mockery!" Erik and several other eastern jarls jumped up, some instinctively moving their hands to their belts, only to remember their arms had been left behind. Passively, Harald of Sudvik glanced down and up at the rebelious jarls.
"Silence!" he thundered upon them. "Are you, Erik, son of Gorm, not the great-grandson of the great Jarl Karl who pledged to lay his arms at the feet of our next king? Or did you, perhaps, forget his promises and sell your jarldom to Overking Tharkane?"
The room fell silent and it was as if a shadow of hurt pride fell over them. Sigurd tapped his fingers on the King's chair.
"You didn't all think that when Imgart fell, your problems were past?" Sigurd said. "Granted, maybe you could have peace for some years, even prosperity. But war is imminent, either with the Mongali or Tharkane. By Odin, their superior forces could march through our lands and mow down any resistance. When you were busy taking land from one another, I marched an army into Ravengard and took back what is rightfully mine. I could have stopped there. But now I am here to take back what is ours."
"We have long been aware the situation in Ravengard and your claim to the throne, Sigurd. We thank you for beheading that coward Jerv and are glad that one of the true Ravenskjolds have returned. Now our only concern is that you will just be another of Tharkanes puppets on the throne, not the King of Trafalgaris." said the Jarl of Sudvik.
"A puppet? The Ravenmarklings has always been good and loyal to the line of Kings and the people of Trafalgaris. I don't see why you shouldn't." Sigurd stared dauntingly at the assembly.
“Perhaps there are those who think that in the absence of a King they have been free of obligations to the Kingdom of Trafalgaris. Those who think their strength alone can fend off the hordes that will descend upon us. Those who let their warriors row and bring ill fate upon their own kinsmen" Erik's face reddened.
"But what do you suggest, Jarl Sigurd." Erik's voice was ladden with sarcasm.
"We need to raise a unified, disciplined, national army. Right now we are too weak."
"Maybe you and your westerners are too weak to beat these Gulmen dogs." Erik and his fellows barked and laughed.
Sigurd folded his arms and smiled diabolically.
"I have seen these 'Gulmen'. They rise from Hel's underworld in thousands. They are born on the horse. Whenever one dies, ten springs into his place. Mercilessly, they destroy every city in their wake."
"Impossible. If my memories recollect correctly, we beat these savages at Blaaberg." Erik countered.
"And if you also remember correctly Jarl Tyrn of Ravengard gave his life for that victory." Sigurd triumphed. Erik looked down, his angry scowl fading away.
"Now, that was many years ago. They have returned with renewed strength and numbers. Unless we send help, the Scornic League will fall, no doubt, very soon."
"You speak wisely, Sigurd, as do we honour the memory of Jarl Tyrn." The grey, wizened, Jarl of Torsgard spoke, his voice crackled but proud, his face scarred but expression mild.
"Aye." Harald and the other westerlings nodded. He leaned forward.
"But why should we aid these soft southerners? They never really cared for us under Imgart. Now that we finally have some freedom, why throw ourselves into war for someone else's cause?"
"War is inevitable. What you see now, is the silence before the storm, a momentarily breath of fresh air."
"We have never had a standing army. You should know that the King has always relied on the support of the Jarls."
"Which is why I am here. As your King, I will create a Royal Army."
The crowd remained baffled at the mere mention of the word ‘King’.
"Tharkane will not be pleased."
"To the hell with Tharkane! Now is our chance, now that the gnarly old bastard stops for his breath after his invasion of Imgart. I will raise an army by spring. With your swords and lances at my side, I will defend this nation against our enemies."
For the first time he could see hope lit it in their eyes. The older Jarls were starting to remember old legends, of the Elder Kings, of mighty warriors, of sacrifice and deeds of bravery on the field of battle. Slowly, the Jarl of Torsgard stood up.
"I have heard rumours about this Ravenskjold, this Son of Orm..."
He paused.
"I have heard rumours," The Jarl of Torsgard said. "I am sure you all have. They say he has slaughtered orcs and goblins by the thousands. They say he has journeyed far south where the Sun touches the earth, that he has faithfully served under foreign Kings and lords, defeated mighty dragons, the legions of a half-demon and other creatures of Hel. Is it you, that stand before here today, whose deeds that these scalds speak so eloquently of?"
Sigurd remained silent.
"I say, if all this is true, he is too good to be true. But nevertheless..." One by one the Jarls stood up, even Erik. However reluctantly.
"I do believe it is time for a new king.”
The stout horses trashed through mud and snow in the small, narrow street outside the Tower of Truth. Sigurd smiled and waved back at the commoners who had lined up upon the sight that the Flame of Kings had been rekindled. It would be kept burning until his coronation the next year. On his left rode Jarl Harald and his six sons, each that had after the Council fallen on their knee and pledged their loyalty.
"Well performed." The old Jarl remarked.
"No, thank you." Sigurd pretended nothing.
"Paying the scalds to perform eloquent recounts of your battles was a nice touch. And where did you get this amazing golden chain mail..."
"Most was true. But as scalds go, they tend to exaggerate." Sigurd smiled as he passed a group of young maids flocked together to see their new king.
"Ah, don't get to big-headed, son. I've known you since you were a kid. And one more thing. No more drunken brawls or chasing young maids around."
"No more drunken brawls?" Sigurd's smile faded away.
"Aye. It does not befit a King to crash around in a beer-tavern at midnight."
"And no more..."
"Kings marry princesses, Sigurd, they don't fool around in the haystack with barmaids."
"Hmm."
"Yes, I do suggest you have a look around. Tharkane might have a couple of daughters."
"Tharkanes's daughters."
"You wait and see, son. Princesses have a certain... political charm."
Two weeks had barely gone until the old Overking's spies snapped up the news. Sigurd was now riding hastily to Sarukar city with his newly appointed bodyguard under a banner of truce. Lines of weariness and stress had already appeared under his eyes. He had barely had time to sleep or recuperate upon being declared the sovereign ruler of Trafalgaris, and no longer pondered over why many Kings died early. The Imarr royal guards scowled at this upstart King and his companions, but speedily escorted them to the royal palace, outside where the towering figure of an old acquaintance awaited.
"Hail Sigurd... or is it King Sigurd?" Ulfius smiled.
"Hail Arcduke Ulfius, I give you thanks for your… support." Ulfius shrugged.
"Tharkane's not too pleased."
They proceeded into the royal hall a long columnar walk up to Tharkane's throne. High windows on the walls beamed sunlight onto Tharkane's slumped position in a purple satin throne. Sigurd halted his pace a far distance away.
"I Sigurd, Sovereign King of Trafalgaris, give heed to the Overking Tharkane of Imarr and the recently conquered Imgart."
"You will still refer to me as Your Majesty."
"Your Majesty. I hereby give my resignation as an Imperial Knight." Sigurd continued his walk.
"Ah, you slippery, scheming knight, Sigurd." Tharkane snarled. "Is this how you repay me when I give you an army to claim your jarldom? I don't give away armies like candy, you know. I thought Northmen still kept their words."
"And they still do, which is why I am here today."
"Hah, Trafalgaris with all its unruly Jarls. Good riddance, I say. And good luck."
"It is still in your interest that Trafalgaris is strong and unified."
"Why? Before you, Trafalgaris was a land of mad, raging barbarians. Now, let’s see, what we have is still a land of mad, raging barbarians, but with an equally mad King with delusions of grandeur. Tell me, why should the world need more Kings and armies?" he lamented.
"The army will be there to protect ourselves against the barbarian incursions. Against our common enemy, the Mongali."
"Hah, who says they're the enemy. I'm not going to let you slip between my fingers this easily. Ulfius,"
Ulfius laid a roll of parchments and papers with the Imarr royal seal on the table in front of them.
"This treaty will recognise you as the King, but makes certain obligations. Look at it as a... defence treaty."
Sigurd rolled out the papers and skimmed through their content. It was a strong treaty of defence but clearly favoured the Overking. He knew these were just papers, but maybe Tharkane thought he could bind him by these words. However, he needed to buy himself and his jarls some time. If this could stall Tharkane's attention until spring...
Keeping his face calm, Sigurd picked up the quill and dipped it in the inkpot. He paused. He suddenly saw war, Mongali horsemen, blood on snow, burning longboats, Imarr soldiers, a free country, a king with a sceptre in his hands. Then he imagined the King in shackles, a calm village, a peaceful nation, a nation of slaves. All this, with a stoke of the pen or with the blow of a sword.
Drops of ink fell down on the paper. Sigurd finally signed.
"I graciously accept."
The Overking smiled, coldly.
********
Kingdom
Cold wind and sleets of snow and ice swept against Sigurd's face as he came to the end of his journey. Through this bleak, mountainous landscape he had gone for several days without food or rest. Two Trafalgaric guards, eastlenders, looked up at him with curious faces as he stopped by their stand and dismounted. One of them intensified his look as he caught glimpse of a golden chainmail behind Sigurd's rain dripping, ragged cloak.
"Where be the Council Hall?"
"Up the hill, you'll see the Tower of Truth. The Jarls are gathered there today, sire."
"I know."
"And you are?"
"I am Sigurd."
The guard didn’t need more explaination. The rumours had travelled like the northern wind in the last few days.
"Jarl Sigurd, you are late. They feared you had been waylaid."
As expected. Sigurd could hear the raised voices of angry jarls even before set foot in the building. He handed his sword and cloak to the thralls, and walked up the long wooden stairs. Before the two massive doors leading to the Chamber of Kings, two honorary guards in full chain mail eyed him with fierce looks.
"The Council is in hearing."
"I can hear that."
Without giving more heed to the guards, he kicked the doors aside and they swung open. He stared into the circular room. The Chamber of Kings, finally. It was decorated with all the Jarls’ banners and their shields. They were all gathered around a huge, square table, and at the end of the room, stood the statues of bygone kings with their backs to a windows in red and blue painted glass. All chairs were occupied apart from two empy seats next to each other. He knew the simpler, wooden chair with a black raven burned into the back had long belonged to his ancestors, and now to him, whilst the royal throne, inlaid with gold and silver, had long stood empty. Sigurd strode right across the room. The Jarl of Sudvik, Harald Ulvson waved away the guards and raised his voice.
"Hail, Sigurd Ravenskjold, Son of Orm, Jarl of Ravenmark. We have long awaited your arrival. There are several urgent matters ahead."
"Hail Harald Ulvsson, Son of Ulv Jarsson. I appologise for my late arrival. I have travelled and crossed many dangerous perils in order to get where I am today." Odin knows, Sigurd thought.
"All hail!" The Jarls stood.
"Now sit, as one." The Sudvik Jarl kept the council by tradition. He owned one of the wealthiest and most successful trade fleet in the west and was at least by Trafalgaric standards considered a very powerful man.
"I have an… anouncement to make." Sigurd calmly put a hand on each of the chairs in front of him.
"Yes, why do you not sit first and listen, like it is custom?" Harald frowned. At this moment, Erik, Jarl of Eastmark jumped up and clenched his fist. A plump, red-haired man in his middle-years, Erik had acquired the title "Angry-Erik" upon his tendency to axe messengers who brought bad news, well in fact, any news.
"He dares touch the King's Chair!" The other jarls sighed and looked up at Sigurd.
"I come before you as the King. I have the final documents signed and approved by the Folksting. I have a legitimate claim to this throne."
"By Odin! Blasphemy! Mockery!" Erik and several other eastern jarls jumped up, some instinctively moving their hands to their belts, only to remember their arms had been left behind. Passively, Harald of Sudvik glanced down and up at the rebelious jarls.
"Silence!" he thundered upon them. "Are you, Erik, son of Gorm, not the great-grandson of the great Jarl Karl who pledged to lay his arms at the feet of our next king? Or did you, perhaps, forget his promises and sell your jarldom to Overking Tharkane?"
The room fell silent and it was as if a shadow of hurt pride fell over them. Sigurd tapped his fingers on the King's chair.
"You didn't all think that when Imgart fell, your problems were past?" Sigurd said. "Granted, maybe you could have peace for some years, even prosperity. But war is imminent, either with the Mongali or Tharkane. By Odin, their superior forces could march through our lands and mow down any resistance. When you were busy taking land from one another, I marched an army into Ravengard and took back what is rightfully mine. I could have stopped there. But now I am here to take back what is ours."
"We have long been aware the situation in Ravengard and your claim to the throne, Sigurd. We thank you for beheading that coward Jerv and are glad that one of the true Ravenskjolds have returned. Now our only concern is that you will just be another of Tharkanes puppets on the throne, not the King of Trafalgaris." said the Jarl of Sudvik.
"A puppet? The Ravenmarklings has always been good and loyal to the line of Kings and the people of Trafalgaris. I don't see why you shouldn't." Sigurd stared dauntingly at the assembly.
“Perhaps there are those who think that in the absence of a King they have been free of obligations to the Kingdom of Trafalgaris. Those who think their strength alone can fend off the hordes that will descend upon us. Those who let their warriors row and bring ill fate upon their own kinsmen" Erik's face reddened.
"But what do you suggest, Jarl Sigurd." Erik's voice was ladden with sarcasm.
"We need to raise a unified, disciplined, national army. Right now we are too weak."
"Maybe you and your westerners are too weak to beat these Gulmen dogs." Erik and his fellows barked and laughed.
Sigurd folded his arms and smiled diabolically.
"I have seen these 'Gulmen'. They rise from Hel's underworld in thousands. They are born on the horse. Whenever one dies, ten springs into his place. Mercilessly, they destroy every city in their wake."
"Impossible. If my memories recollect correctly, we beat these savages at Blaaberg." Erik countered.
"And if you also remember correctly Jarl Tyrn of Ravengard gave his life for that victory." Sigurd triumphed. Erik looked down, his angry scowl fading away.
"Now, that was many years ago. They have returned with renewed strength and numbers. Unless we send help, the Scornic League will fall, no doubt, very soon."
"You speak wisely, Sigurd, as do we honour the memory of Jarl Tyrn." The grey, wizened, Jarl of Torsgard spoke, his voice crackled but proud, his face scarred but expression mild.
"Aye." Harald and the other westerlings nodded. He leaned forward.
"But why should we aid these soft southerners? They never really cared for us under Imgart. Now that we finally have some freedom, why throw ourselves into war for someone else's cause?"
"War is inevitable. What you see now, is the silence before the storm, a momentarily breath of fresh air."
"We have never had a standing army. You should know that the King has always relied on the support of the Jarls."
"Which is why I am here. As your King, I will create a Royal Army."
The crowd remained baffled at the mere mention of the word ‘King’.
"Tharkane will not be pleased."
"To the hell with Tharkane! Now is our chance, now that the gnarly old bastard stops for his breath after his invasion of Imgart. I will raise an army by spring. With your swords and lances at my side, I will defend this nation against our enemies."
For the first time he could see hope lit it in their eyes. The older Jarls were starting to remember old legends, of the Elder Kings, of mighty warriors, of sacrifice and deeds of bravery on the field of battle. Slowly, the Jarl of Torsgard stood up.
"I have heard rumours about this Ravenskjold, this Son of Orm..."
He paused.
"I have heard rumours," The Jarl of Torsgard said. "I am sure you all have. They say he has slaughtered orcs and goblins by the thousands. They say he has journeyed far south where the Sun touches the earth, that he has faithfully served under foreign Kings and lords, defeated mighty dragons, the legions of a half-demon and other creatures of Hel. Is it you, that stand before here today, whose deeds that these scalds speak so eloquently of?"
Sigurd remained silent.
"I say, if all this is true, he is too good to be true. But nevertheless..." One by one the Jarls stood up, even Erik. However reluctantly.
"I do believe it is time for a new king.”
The stout horses trashed through mud and snow in the small, narrow street outside the Tower of Truth. Sigurd smiled and waved back at the commoners who had lined up upon the sight that the Flame of Kings had been rekindled. It would be kept burning until his coronation the next year. On his left rode Jarl Harald and his six sons, each that had after the Council fallen on their knee and pledged their loyalty.
"Well performed." The old Jarl remarked.
"No, thank you." Sigurd pretended nothing.
"Paying the scalds to perform eloquent recounts of your battles was a nice touch. And where did you get this amazing golden chain mail..."
"Most was true. But as scalds go, they tend to exaggerate." Sigurd smiled as he passed a group of young maids flocked together to see their new king.
"Ah, don't get to big-headed, son. I've known you since you were a kid. And one more thing. No more drunken brawls or chasing young maids around."
"No more drunken brawls?" Sigurd's smile faded away.
"Aye. It does not befit a King to crash around in a beer-tavern at midnight."
"And no more..."
"Kings marry princesses, Sigurd, they don't fool around in the haystack with barmaids."
"Hmm."
"Yes, I do suggest you have a look around. Tharkane might have a couple of daughters."
"Tharkanes's daughters."
"You wait and see, son. Princesses have a certain... political charm."
Two weeks had barely gone until the old Overking's spies snapped up the news. Sigurd was now riding hastily to Sarukar city with his newly appointed bodyguard under a banner of truce. Lines of weariness and stress had already appeared under his eyes. He had barely had time to sleep or recuperate upon being declared the sovereign ruler of Trafalgaris, and no longer pondered over why many Kings died early. The Imarr royal guards scowled at this upstart King and his companions, but speedily escorted them to the royal palace, outside where the towering figure of an old acquaintance awaited.
"Hail Sigurd... or is it King Sigurd?" Ulfius smiled.
"Hail Arcduke Ulfius, I give you thanks for your… support." Ulfius shrugged.
"Tharkane's not too pleased."
They proceeded into the royal hall a long columnar walk up to Tharkane's throne. High windows on the walls beamed sunlight onto Tharkane's slumped position in a purple satin throne. Sigurd halted his pace a far distance away.
"I Sigurd, Sovereign King of Trafalgaris, give heed to the Overking Tharkane of Imarr and the recently conquered Imgart."
"You will still refer to me as Your Majesty."
"Your Majesty. I hereby give my resignation as an Imperial Knight." Sigurd continued his walk.
"Ah, you slippery, scheming knight, Sigurd." Tharkane snarled. "Is this how you repay me when I give you an army to claim your jarldom? I don't give away armies like candy, you know. I thought Northmen still kept their words."
"And they still do, which is why I am here today."
"Hah, Trafalgaris with all its unruly Jarls. Good riddance, I say. And good luck."
"It is still in your interest that Trafalgaris is strong and unified."
"Why? Before you, Trafalgaris was a land of mad, raging barbarians. Now, let’s see, what we have is still a land of mad, raging barbarians, but with an equally mad King with delusions of grandeur. Tell me, why should the world need more Kings and armies?" he lamented.
"The army will be there to protect ourselves against the barbarian incursions. Against our common enemy, the Mongali."
"Hah, who says they're the enemy. I'm not going to let you slip between my fingers this easily. Ulfius,"
Ulfius laid a roll of parchments and papers with the Imarr royal seal on the table in front of them.
"This treaty will recognise you as the King, but makes certain obligations. Look at it as a... defence treaty."
Sigurd rolled out the papers and skimmed through their content. It was a strong treaty of defence but clearly favoured the Overking. He knew these were just papers, but maybe Tharkane thought he could bind him by these words. However, he needed to buy himself and his jarls some time. If this could stall Tharkane's attention until spring...
Keeping his face calm, Sigurd picked up the quill and dipped it in the inkpot. He paused. He suddenly saw war, Mongali horsemen, blood on snow, burning longboats, Imarr soldiers, a free country, a king with a sceptre in his hands. Then he imagined the King in shackles, a calm village, a peaceful nation, a nation of slaves. All this, with a stoke of the pen or with the blow of a sword.
Drops of ink fell down on the paper. Sigurd finally signed.
"I graciously accept."
The Overking smiled, coldly.
Last edited:
Mathew_Freeman
Adventurer
Xiang is now 276xp from becoming a 13th level fighter. I'll be writing up an account of sundays session later tonight.
Love Cho's final account. Simon, maybe Kerstin's next character should gain a little bonus xp for it, since it's the same player?
And Sigurd! Becoming more like Conan upon the instant! He shall lead us to war, and there shall be a great battle, and the Spearman shall strike upon the Serpent, etc etc etc. We like the looks of this. Much fighting.
Love Cho's final account. Simon, maybe Kerstin's next character should gain a little bonus xp for it, since it's the same player?
And Sigurd! Becoming more like Conan upon the instant! He shall lead us to war, and there shall be a great battle, and the Spearman shall strike upon the Serpent, etc etc etc. We like the looks of this. Much fighting.
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