[Midnight] Dark Tower's Shadow (Updated 12/10)
- Thread starter Paka
- Start date
Emiricol said:Paka! You said you were back on track and would post tomorrow! It has been a few tomorrows now!
You slacker, I'm going through withdrawls here.
Heh.
We gamed on Wednesday, just some short solo role-playing between me and JJ, the creator and player of Karhoun. I am awaiting JJ's notes so I can go over what we did and write it all down.
Story Post #23
Dreams of Hope and Nightmarish Realities
I slept deep and had dreams of hope and heroism after the slaying of the Manticore. But the sun has risen on another day and Izrador is still the only God answering prayers; there is work to be done. Last night I was so filled with optimism but today it is back to our duties.
Odannin visited me often, brought me my food. He explained the alibi we would say back at Port Esben, a night attack of pirates allied with a Dire Lion who was on their deck.
“What is a Dire Lion,” I asked. He explained that it is a lion but as big as a house and smarter than most men. The Elves have a pact with them.
“The Dire Bears are terrible wonders to behold,” he mused, then explaining, “The lion will give reason for the claw scars on you and several of the other men.”
“And the puncture wounds from the spikes?” I asked.
“Arrows,” he said, with a smile.
We ate in silence for a while and I could feel Odannin girding himself, preparing to say something. Finally, after wiping his stew bowl with bread to get every last drop he said, “Karhoun, I am going to call out your brother in front of the crew. I must get him to abandon this road before we all get killed.”
I put down my wooden spoon and asked what he is proposing and why. I thought he was sounding like Vorden, that damned fool Elf. I wondered if he thought I was afraid to die for what we’re doing here.
Odannin explained as best he could, stammering at his foolish notions, “It is only a matter of time before we are found. This slaying we’ve done here will send ripples throughout the Shadow and it will get traced, traced to us.”
I shook my head, “Durgen explained that the body has already been divvied up, sent all over the Eredane to make weapons and magicks. The evidence of what was done on Dragon Island is gone. None could possible know.”
He argued, “We’ve reached too far and must flee. We could sink the ships and take to the foot hills. We’d be a ferocious band, attacking supply trains and ambushing Legates.”
“That is nothing compared to what we will do from inside the Shadow’s trust. No, we are just gaining the positions we need. Father said that if I gain power in Baden’s Bluff our family will have a stranglehold on the Pelurian. That will mean that WE have a stranglehold on the Pelurian Sea. I’m not giving that up for some supply trains.”
Odannin grew grim, “When we return to Port Esben your father will no doubt squire you. With Kylie dead your brother will need a squire. Then you will be on the path to knighthood.”
“Squired? Me?” I hadn’t considered that. It silenced me for a moment, “So be it, the path to being truly trusted within the Shadow.”
“No,” my brother’s second in command retorted, “My family has been thanes of the Esben family for centuries. I serve and serve faithfully.
“But I’ve known your brother since we were both boys. Something in him changed when he became a knight in the Holy Order of the Southern Pelurian. He was much like you once but now something is wrong and twisted in him. Some days I wonder if he is an insurgent pretending to be a Knight of Shadow or a Knight of Shadow pretending to be an insurgent.
“I would not see such a horror come to you.”
He began to argue more and I interrupted him, asked him to fetch Durgen so that we could discuss this all with him. At that, I saw the fight go out of Odannin. Durgen must frighten him as much as father, I thought.
A good thing too. If Odannin had spoken in front of the crew he might have spread his weakness to them.
With a few signed words, Durgen did away with Odannin’s thoughts on running. Durgen and I, through Odannin’s interpreting, discussed which younger sibling I might bring with me to Baden’s Bluff. Father had said I could bring anyone younger than me who wasn’t already squired or in servitude to another.
I mentioned my idea, “What if I brought the child of the mother we watched hang. I have heard that babe is either blessed by Izrador or cursed. Either way it would be best to have it close to us.”
Odannin recounted for me the child’s history, “It was birthed a little over a month ago and father was hoping for another son. He called his former wife…the daughter factory. So he brought a Legate Midwife in order to insure the blessing of Izrador.
“The child, they say, touched the Midwife and she burst into flames. No one knows if the child is blessed by Izrador or cursed. None will touch it. In the tower it remains, fed by a long spoon.”
Durgen signed for Odannin to say, “If something goes very wrong you can always run. You have nature’s lore and can survive in the wilds. Would you want to run from Father or a Legate with a babe on your hip?”
Durgen left on that note, leaving me to think about my responsibilities. Father would be waiting on the docks of Port Esben. Since Durgen didn’t want Odannin anywhere near the creature that is my father, it would be my place to tell Grandmaster Vildar Esben all about the battle.
I slept knowing that when I awoke in the morning it would be the sound of Port Esben’s wharf against the side of the ship waking me.
The Squiring
Father met us on the wharf, dark mail under his black tabard. The Wardens surrounded him and some house guard were surrounding the wharf. Again he carried no weapons.
“My children return from the hunt. Durgen the Silent, have you come to kill your father and take his throne, my son?” Father asked.
Durgen shook his head and bowed, offering his sword for father to poison. Father poisoned the blade with the love of a hug and kiss.
I had thought his questions were sarcastic. Now I have to wonder if there is some darker goal behind them.
Father turned his gaze on me, “Karhoun the Knife. Have you come to kill your father? Will you attempt to take the throne of Port Esben?”
“No, father, I have not come for your throne.” I offered my sword which he poisoned.
“Where is Kylie?” he asked, eyes on Durgen.
“She died in the battle, insurgent’s arrow to the throat.” I explained.
Father’s mouth grew tight and grim. It was his murderous expression. His gaze settled on Durgen like a death shroud, “Durgen, did you kill her?”
Durgen shook his head, no.
I felt the weight of his gaze, “Karhoun, did you murder your sister?”
“No, father, I did not.”
I explained the terrible night battle at sea. I told him how I had been awakened and how they had a Dire Lion aboard their ship. As we planned, I told the ship had sunk and we repulsed their attempts to get on board the Esben Pride. After telling lies to the Manticore, telling this tale to father seemed somehow easier to me. The wounds from the mauling I took from the Manticore were still fresh and painful; one of Durgen's sailors was holding me up.
Once I was done father said, “Kneel before me, Karhoun,” and I did as he explained his knighthood to me:
“The knights of the Holy Order of the Southern Pelurian were the warriors who allowed Izrador’s Orcish Host to cross the sea and gain a beach head on the southern shore. This knighthood is always at the forefront of the Shadow in the North’s advancement, always the first to make a foothold, smoothing the way for the rest of His minions.
“Will you be a Squire to Sir Durgen? Will you start on the road to being a knight in my order?”
Just as predicted, I was squired on the Port Esben wharf by the Grandmaster of the Holy Order of the Southern Pelurian, my father.
Dreams of Hope and Nightmarish Realities
I slept deep and had dreams of hope and heroism after the slaying of the Manticore. But the sun has risen on another day and Izrador is still the only God answering prayers; there is work to be done. Last night I was so filled with optimism but today it is back to our duties.
Odannin visited me often, brought me my food. He explained the alibi we would say back at Port Esben, a night attack of pirates allied with a Dire Lion who was on their deck.
“What is a Dire Lion,” I asked. He explained that it is a lion but as big as a house and smarter than most men. The Elves have a pact with them.
“The Dire Bears are terrible wonders to behold,” he mused, then explaining, “The lion will give reason for the claw scars on you and several of the other men.”
“And the puncture wounds from the spikes?” I asked.
“Arrows,” he said, with a smile.
We ate in silence for a while and I could feel Odannin girding himself, preparing to say something. Finally, after wiping his stew bowl with bread to get every last drop he said, “Karhoun, I am going to call out your brother in front of the crew. I must get him to abandon this road before we all get killed.”
I put down my wooden spoon and asked what he is proposing and why. I thought he was sounding like Vorden, that damned fool Elf. I wondered if he thought I was afraid to die for what we’re doing here.
Odannin explained as best he could, stammering at his foolish notions, “It is only a matter of time before we are found. This slaying we’ve done here will send ripples throughout the Shadow and it will get traced, traced to us.”
I shook my head, “Durgen explained that the body has already been divvied up, sent all over the Eredane to make weapons and magicks. The evidence of what was done on Dragon Island is gone. None could possible know.”
He argued, “We’ve reached too far and must flee. We could sink the ships and take to the foot hills. We’d be a ferocious band, attacking supply trains and ambushing Legates.”
“That is nothing compared to what we will do from inside the Shadow’s trust. No, we are just gaining the positions we need. Father said that if I gain power in Baden’s Bluff our family will have a stranglehold on the Pelurian. That will mean that WE have a stranglehold on the Pelurian Sea. I’m not giving that up for some supply trains.”
Odannin grew grim, “When we return to Port Esben your father will no doubt squire you. With Kylie dead your brother will need a squire. Then you will be on the path to knighthood.”
“Squired? Me?” I hadn’t considered that. It silenced me for a moment, “So be it, the path to being truly trusted within the Shadow.”
“No,” my brother’s second in command retorted, “My family has been thanes of the Esben family for centuries. I serve and serve faithfully.
“But I’ve known your brother since we were both boys. Something in him changed when he became a knight in the Holy Order of the Southern Pelurian. He was much like you once but now something is wrong and twisted in him. Some days I wonder if he is an insurgent pretending to be a Knight of Shadow or a Knight of Shadow pretending to be an insurgent.
“I would not see such a horror come to you.”
He began to argue more and I interrupted him, asked him to fetch Durgen so that we could discuss this all with him. At that, I saw the fight go out of Odannin. Durgen must frighten him as much as father, I thought.
A good thing too. If Odannin had spoken in front of the crew he might have spread his weakness to them.
With a few signed words, Durgen did away with Odannin’s thoughts on running. Durgen and I, through Odannin’s interpreting, discussed which younger sibling I might bring with me to Baden’s Bluff. Father had said I could bring anyone younger than me who wasn’t already squired or in servitude to another.
I mentioned my idea, “What if I brought the child of the mother we watched hang. I have heard that babe is either blessed by Izrador or cursed. Either way it would be best to have it close to us.”
Odannin recounted for me the child’s history, “It was birthed a little over a month ago and father was hoping for another son. He called his former wife…the daughter factory. So he brought a Legate Midwife in order to insure the blessing of Izrador.
“The child, they say, touched the Midwife and she burst into flames. No one knows if the child is blessed by Izrador or cursed. None will touch it. In the tower it remains, fed by a long spoon.”
Durgen signed for Odannin to say, “If something goes very wrong you can always run. You have nature’s lore and can survive in the wilds. Would you want to run from Father or a Legate with a babe on your hip?”
Durgen left on that note, leaving me to think about my responsibilities. Father would be waiting on the docks of Port Esben. Since Durgen didn’t want Odannin anywhere near the creature that is my father, it would be my place to tell Grandmaster Vildar Esben all about the battle.
I slept knowing that when I awoke in the morning it would be the sound of Port Esben’s wharf against the side of the ship waking me.
The Squiring
Father met us on the wharf, dark mail under his black tabard. The Wardens surrounded him and some house guard were surrounding the wharf. Again he carried no weapons.
“My children return from the hunt. Durgen the Silent, have you come to kill your father and take his throne, my son?” Father asked.
Durgen shook his head and bowed, offering his sword for father to poison. Father poisoned the blade with the love of a hug and kiss.
I had thought his questions were sarcastic. Now I have to wonder if there is some darker goal behind them.
Father turned his gaze on me, “Karhoun the Knife. Have you come to kill your father? Will you attempt to take the throne of Port Esben?”
“No, father, I have not come for your throne.” I offered my sword which he poisoned.
“Where is Kylie?” he asked, eyes on Durgen.
“She died in the battle, insurgent’s arrow to the throat.” I explained.
Father’s mouth grew tight and grim. It was his murderous expression. His gaze settled on Durgen like a death shroud, “Durgen, did you kill her?”
Durgen shook his head, no.
I felt the weight of his gaze, “Karhoun, did you murder your sister?”
“No, father, I did not.”
I explained the terrible night battle at sea. I told him how I had been awakened and how they had a Dire Lion aboard their ship. As we planned, I told the ship had sunk and we repulsed their attempts to get on board the Esben Pride. After telling lies to the Manticore, telling this tale to father seemed somehow easier to me. The wounds from the mauling I took from the Manticore were still fresh and painful; one of Durgen's sailors was holding me up.
Once I was done father said, “Kneel before me, Karhoun,” and I did as he explained his knighthood to me:
“The knights of the Holy Order of the Southern Pelurian were the warriors who allowed Izrador’s Orcish Host to cross the sea and gain a beach head on the southern shore. This knighthood is always at the forefront of the Shadow in the North’s advancement, always the first to make a foothold, smoothing the way for the rest of His minions.
“Will you be a Squire to Sir Durgen? Will you start on the road to being a knight in my order?”
Just as predicted, I was squired on the Port Esben wharf by the Grandmaster of the Holy Order of the Southern Pelurian, my father.
Pillars of Hercules
First Post
Paka,
Just a note to say I'm still paying rapt attention. Midnight's a great world, to be sure, but a great DM & writer like yourself makes it even better.
Just a note to say I'm still paying rapt attention. Midnight's a great world, to be sure, but a great DM & writer like yourself makes it even better.
The Ballad of Karhoun Esben
Story Post #24
A Return to Killing Strength
Still in agony from the mauling I took from the Manticore, I had trouble standing from my kneeling position. Father bade me to my rooms, where Orengar the Fat would tend to my wounds. One of Durgen’s sailors helped me up the stairs to my apartment in the castle. He steered my way and carried half my weight.
On the way up the stairs I thought about selling Durgen out to father, as it would strengthen my position. Durgen knew this squiring would happen. Father would trust me if I handed him Durgen the Usurper. These thoughts were my Esben upbringing and my Theros Obsidia training shining through.
Valanicia was the first to visit me, always the loving sister. She had heard about my squirehood. She wanted something, of course. If I become a knight she wants to be my squire.
“Anything to get away from this place,” she said.
I agree to squire her if and when I am knighted. She did take my side in the fight against the high Orcs, the Oruk, after all. Not to mention she was my nursemaid when I was but a child. These aren’t easy things to forget.
Val exited briskly, eyes downcast, hands clutching her skirts once Orengar, my Legate brother made his entrance. He gave my healing droughts (Izrador’s frozen piss, I silently mused to myself) that tasted like liquid winter but my wounds turned to scars, criss-crossing my body like runes. He also told me that he would write a guide to the Bluff and its Legates.
“It will be more thorough than what I gave Unaros, your Legate,” he said while smirking, “Some things are best kept within the family, you know.
“You are well now,” he announced to no one in particular, “Father will no doubt have some chores for you soon. Rest well.”
The Lady of the Black Oak
I wanted to give my greetings to Elayle, the newly planted Dryad in the courtyard and father’s bride to be. Apparently, Dryads are the only of the Fey that can successfully breed with humans. Odd.
Disguising my visit to her as a trip to the cathedral to pray, I ventured from my rooms. It would appear as nothing but a passing hello on the way to prayers heading northward. Prying eyes would no doubt dismiss it as nothing.
I knocked on her door, which opened into shadow, from which she emerged. She gave greetings and pointed out Orengar’s astirax, in the body of a crow on a low branch of her tree. She smirked, “Does your brother think that I wouldn’t notice a demon in the branches of my home?”
“Is there anything I could do for you, m’lady?” I asked.
“I have a sister in Baden’s Bluff. I would appreciate it if you could take a letter to her. I could give it to you before you leave.”
I agreed to do so.
Her eyes looked at my closely, light brown eyes, hair still the color of wheat and she said, “You still carry my token.”
I nodded, hoping I hadn’t offended her.
“May I see it?” the Lady of the Black Oak asked.
I handed it to her and she took it in her hands gently and laid another kiss upon it. Then she brushed it against her cheek. It reminded me of when we were children and Val would put her ear to a seashell to hear the ocean.
Ancestors in hellfire but somehow that leaf carried a tale of my past adventures back to its mother. I knew it right then. I’m not sure how but I knew it in my bones, my beard, in my scars, in my bald head.
She handed it back to me and remarked, “Please don’t knock on my oak at too early an hour; I’m a Manticore in the morning.”
She knows, I thought to myself. She knows all.
I made my way to the Cathedral and was so desperate and scared that I nearly did pray.
Durgen and I attempted to communicate. I told him of my suspicions but he couldn’t talk back. The only words he had taught me on the boat trip were Father, Orc and Friend. While necessary and important words anywhere in the North, they did us no good then.
Durgen gave my his wise counsel atop his tower by the wharf with Odannin to translate his words for me. I left the leaf downstairs, unsure of the extent of its powers. Durgen said our only hope was that she needed a servant. She couldn’t travel more than two leagues from her tree without dying. Someone of my abilities in the wilds would be of enormous value to her. I had to be of value as I had no other choice.
I didn’t want to have to fight my way out of Port Esben. I didn’t want to destroy the work I had gotten done and have yet to do with my brother and his loyal men. I didn’t want to have to kill her.
She seemed to be waiting for me when I arrived after talking with Sir Durgen the Silent. She was standing under her branches, gently blowing on a spider hanging from her oak’s branches. The spider was suspended from a long strand and it was rocking back and forth like a pendulum. As I approached it scurried back up its web, into the oak's dark branches.
We talked, a form of warfare that I am not good at. She told me she was expecting me and she eased my fears. She told me that she wanted me to work for her. She assured me that Orengar’s demon wasn’t watching us. She told me that I had nothing to fear from her.
I think I truly believed her, not just because I wanted to.
Perhaps she now realizes what it will mean to be the wife of Vildar Esben. She will be a woman in need of friends. If anyone will want father dead it will be her and it won’t be long until that need becomes quite intense. Maybe I will take care of my Elf Hunt and the Bluff and come back to claim a tower in order to be near her.
Knowing that I wouldn’t have to fight my way from Port Esben today, I went back into the keep.
Father’s Chores
There was a palpable stir in the castle. I was summoned to father’s war room, which was filled with his wardens, Durgen included. A channeler girl had been detected by Orgenar’s magic-sniffing demon. I was chosen for my trail lore to lead a host of Orcs and this mage-hunting fiend, this Astirax, and hunt this girl down.
Orengar the Fat brought me to the top-most room of his stout tower above the cathedral, a menagerie. A kennel of Nordish Shepherd dogs, a mountain cat, countless ravens and a hunting hawk were all penned within. The raven on his shoulder, red eyes gleaming, approached the hooded hawk.
A viscous fluid came out from the raven’s beak and entered into the hawk’s. Both of the animals seemed to be choking on this demonic fluid, as both of their beaks were wedged open. Then the demon was in the hawk, eyes blazing red, fast as a bowshot. Orengar put a hawking glove on my left hand and the demon jumped onto my wrist.
Orengar wished me well, “Good hunting, brother.”
End of that Week’s Game. Next Game: Friday 7/25
Story Post #24
A Return to Killing Strength
Still in agony from the mauling I took from the Manticore, I had trouble standing from my kneeling position. Father bade me to my rooms, where Orengar the Fat would tend to my wounds. One of Durgen’s sailors helped me up the stairs to my apartment in the castle. He steered my way and carried half my weight.
On the way up the stairs I thought about selling Durgen out to father, as it would strengthen my position. Durgen knew this squiring would happen. Father would trust me if I handed him Durgen the Usurper. These thoughts were my Esben upbringing and my Theros Obsidia training shining through.
Valanicia was the first to visit me, always the loving sister. She had heard about my squirehood. She wanted something, of course. If I become a knight she wants to be my squire.
“Anything to get away from this place,” she said.
I agree to squire her if and when I am knighted. She did take my side in the fight against the high Orcs, the Oruk, after all. Not to mention she was my nursemaid when I was but a child. These aren’t easy things to forget.
Val exited briskly, eyes downcast, hands clutching her skirts once Orengar, my Legate brother made his entrance. He gave my healing droughts (Izrador’s frozen piss, I silently mused to myself) that tasted like liquid winter but my wounds turned to scars, criss-crossing my body like runes. He also told me that he would write a guide to the Bluff and its Legates.
“It will be more thorough than what I gave Unaros, your Legate,” he said while smirking, “Some things are best kept within the family, you know.
“You are well now,” he announced to no one in particular, “Father will no doubt have some chores for you soon. Rest well.”
The Lady of the Black Oak
I wanted to give my greetings to Elayle, the newly planted Dryad in the courtyard and father’s bride to be. Apparently, Dryads are the only of the Fey that can successfully breed with humans. Odd.
Disguising my visit to her as a trip to the cathedral to pray, I ventured from my rooms. It would appear as nothing but a passing hello on the way to prayers heading northward. Prying eyes would no doubt dismiss it as nothing.
I knocked on her door, which opened into shadow, from which she emerged. She gave greetings and pointed out Orengar’s astirax, in the body of a crow on a low branch of her tree. She smirked, “Does your brother think that I wouldn’t notice a demon in the branches of my home?”
“Is there anything I could do for you, m’lady?” I asked.
“I have a sister in Baden’s Bluff. I would appreciate it if you could take a letter to her. I could give it to you before you leave.”
I agreed to do so.
Her eyes looked at my closely, light brown eyes, hair still the color of wheat and she said, “You still carry my token.”
I nodded, hoping I hadn’t offended her.
“May I see it?” the Lady of the Black Oak asked.
I handed it to her and she took it in her hands gently and laid another kiss upon it. Then she brushed it against her cheek. It reminded me of when we were children and Val would put her ear to a seashell to hear the ocean.
Ancestors in hellfire but somehow that leaf carried a tale of my past adventures back to its mother. I knew it right then. I’m not sure how but I knew it in my bones, my beard, in my scars, in my bald head.
She handed it back to me and remarked, “Please don’t knock on my oak at too early an hour; I’m a Manticore in the morning.”
She knows, I thought to myself. She knows all.
I made my way to the Cathedral and was so desperate and scared that I nearly did pray.
Durgen and I attempted to communicate. I told him of my suspicions but he couldn’t talk back. The only words he had taught me on the boat trip were Father, Orc and Friend. While necessary and important words anywhere in the North, they did us no good then.
Durgen gave my his wise counsel atop his tower by the wharf with Odannin to translate his words for me. I left the leaf downstairs, unsure of the extent of its powers. Durgen said our only hope was that she needed a servant. She couldn’t travel more than two leagues from her tree without dying. Someone of my abilities in the wilds would be of enormous value to her. I had to be of value as I had no other choice.
I didn’t want to have to fight my way out of Port Esben. I didn’t want to destroy the work I had gotten done and have yet to do with my brother and his loyal men. I didn’t want to have to kill her.
She seemed to be waiting for me when I arrived after talking with Sir Durgen the Silent. She was standing under her branches, gently blowing on a spider hanging from her oak’s branches. The spider was suspended from a long strand and it was rocking back and forth like a pendulum. As I approached it scurried back up its web, into the oak's dark branches.
We talked, a form of warfare that I am not good at. She told me she was expecting me and she eased my fears. She told me that she wanted me to work for her. She assured me that Orengar’s demon wasn’t watching us. She told me that I had nothing to fear from her.
I think I truly believed her, not just because I wanted to.
Perhaps she now realizes what it will mean to be the wife of Vildar Esben. She will be a woman in need of friends. If anyone will want father dead it will be her and it won’t be long until that need becomes quite intense. Maybe I will take care of my Elf Hunt and the Bluff and come back to claim a tower in order to be near her.
Knowing that I wouldn’t have to fight my way from Port Esben today, I went back into the keep.
Father’s Chores
There was a palpable stir in the castle. I was summoned to father’s war room, which was filled with his wardens, Durgen included. A channeler girl had been detected by Orgenar’s magic-sniffing demon. I was chosen for my trail lore to lead a host of Orcs and this mage-hunting fiend, this Astirax, and hunt this girl down.
Orengar the Fat brought me to the top-most room of his stout tower above the cathedral, a menagerie. A kennel of Nordish Shepherd dogs, a mountain cat, countless ravens and a hunting hawk were all penned within. The raven on his shoulder, red eyes gleaming, approached the hooded hawk.
A viscous fluid came out from the raven’s beak and entered into the hawk’s. Both of the animals seemed to be choking on this demonic fluid, as both of their beaks were wedged open. Then the demon was in the hawk, eyes blazing red, fast as a bowshot. Orengar put a hawking glove on my left hand and the demon jumped onto my wrist.
Orengar wished me well, “Good hunting, brother.”
End of that Week’s Game. Next Game: Friday 7/25
I really need to post a long overdue thanks to Jim for buying this setting as a present for me. I honestly probably wouldn't have picked up this worldbook for myself.
I hate published settings. Making up a world is more than half of the fun for me but Jim got me this anyway and I am entirely digging it.
Thanks, James.
I hate published settings. Making up a world is more than half of the fun for me but Jim got me this anyway and I am entirely digging it.
Thanks, James.
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