Derulbaskul
Adventurer
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[Midnight] Dark Tower's Shadow (Updated 12/10)
- Thread starter Paka
- Start date
Emiricol said:
Val was always played by KK, who oddly enough, is girlfriend and mother of JJ (player of Karhoun)'s son.
I still consider it nearly a solo, as KK might not be able to make it regularly due to work schedule conflicts but she knows she is welcome at the Midnight gaming table any time.
The Ballad of Karhoun Esben
Story Post # 25
Shadow’s Insurgents
Kahan, the Oruk Warchief, waited until his warband
moved a league or more away before he spoke me,
Valanicia and the slaves. He was an eloquent liar, “I
am a member of a secret society, the Order of the
White Hand. We are a group of Oruk and Orcs who are
fighting Izrador in any way we can from within the
Shadow’s armies.
I have purchased you all from slavery in order to
bring misery to the princeling in charge of Bastion.
This district is the breadbasket of Eredane. The
gruel eaten by Orcs from the Kaladrun to the Erethor
and beyond is grown here, in these lands.
Sameal is a vile man, a southerner with no respect for
life. He burned a Dryad’s tree to the ground less
than a year ago and must be made to pay for his
cruelty. I have brought you all together, under the
leadership of these insurgent captains, Karhoun and
Valanicia, to bring the grain export of Bastion to a
grinding halt.
“There is a broken, abandoned tower less than a league
from here due east. Roost there and make your plans
for the fall’s harvest. Destroy fields and grain
silos when you can. When you can pirate grain, do so.
I will send word on where to cache the stolen grain
for our use.
“Your work will feed insurgents all over Eredane and
starve the Shadow’s soldiers. It is a dangerous life
but Steel Hill is your alternative. To run is to be
hunted and killed by Karhoun, an expert tracker.
“Good luck.”
With that, Kahan and his honor guard made their way to
the departing warband of Oruk and Val and I were left
to look over our party of insurgents. They were all
hungry and dirty. While their situation had
infinitely more hope than a life in the mines of Steel
Hill, under an Ogre slavemaster’s lash, they still
were looking ahead at a life of considerable danger
and risk.
The first slave to catch my eye looked like nothing
more than a beggar, raggedy sack covered his chest and
a sack crudely sewed together made a kind of long
kilt. He seemed to be made of nothing but sinew and
bone with a rough beard hiding his age.
Another was a Halfling, obviously bred into slavery
because he appeared scared of his own shadow. His
fine clothes were covered in filth from his trip.
Life as a slave under Goblins hadn’t been easy on him.
The third looked like nothing more than a little girl,
white blonde hair dirty from her travels with the
Goblin slavers. She had no ears and an odd shape to
her pale blue eyes; I took her for what she was, a
Snow Elf.
The last was a squat monster with Orcish tusks. His
Orcish heritage dominated his features but there was a
touch of something else there too, probably Dwarf.
I announced, “Let’s make way to the tower Kahan
mentioned. We have to be quiet. If anyone sees or
hears us we are dead.” At that I took out some food
and distributed it evenly. They ate it quickly,
desperately. The Halfling nearly choked on the rabbit
jerky and after a few steps on the trail, he vomited
explosively.
“Eat slower next time. We don’t have the food to
waste.”
The Halfling gave a guilty look while wiping the spew
from his chin.
The tower was overgrown with ivy and seemed to list
southward. Where once there was a doorway was only a
broken wall, as if a Giant had ripped out the door by
taking down the entire wall. I noticed a tree with
odd markings, almost like a bear’s claw marks but
there was a difference.
The Snow Elf girl spoke in nearly a whisper, “Owlbear
markings.”
I eyed the clawed tree, trying to make foxes or snakes
of it. “What is an Owlbear?” I asked, “Can it fly?”
She answered slowly, “Izrador’s breeding pits are fond
of creating creatures like this, mixtures of the most
vile elements of nature’s work slapped together. The
Owlbears are a failed experiment let loose into the
world. Now they roam like a natural creature might
roam, finding their place where they may.
“No, it can’t fly.”
“Well, you know your way around the forest…this is
probably a good time to ask, what are your names, what
can you all do?” I asked.
The beggar-looking man answered, “I am Ellis, only a
humble beggar but I am passing fair with my hands.”
“Do you want a sword?” I asked.
“I am better with only my fists,” he explained.
The Halfling spoke quickly, nervous, “I was a
seneschal for a Legate. She taught me…” he hesitated,
looking around but said in a whisper, “…taught me to
read. She died only a few months ago and I don’t
know-“
“You were a seneschal for a Legate?” I asked.
He nodded.
“Which Legate?”
His eyes grew with fear at saying his late master’s
name, “Her name was Calsa.”
It wasn’t a name I recognized. I pointed a Valanicia,
“You are her seneschal now. Understand?”
He seemed more at ease to be in service to a mistress
again and bowed, “M’lady, I am Tomene, at your
service. If there is any way I can help you, please
let me know.”
Val nodded at the Halfling silently.
The Dworg, Half Orc/Half Dwarf, grunted,
“Squud…rrrrg,” he took a thick tree branch and swing
it downwards, grinning.
“Squud, if you prove yourself worthy, you’ll get
this,” and I pointed at the Vardatch that the Oruk had
been kind enough to allow me to keep, when they
returned my gear. I asked, “How did you end up here,
Squud?”
“I good Orc but after manhood they say some Dwarf in
blood too and so I send slavery instead of what I do,”
Squud explained in that special Squud way.
I didn’t need to ask the Snow Elf her story or how she
might be of use. The Snow Elve’s ability to kill Orc
was legend all throughout the Northlands. She
whispered her name, “Hishaya,” and it was all of the
explanation I needed.
The Elf and I approached the tower, now an Owlbear’s
nest, soon to be the quarters of Sameal’s downfall.
She was as quiet as a ghost. We approached the broken
opening of the tower and I noticed her hands, moving,
as if by habit. She was signaling in Patrol Sign, the
Snow Elf hand language. It was the language my mute
brother, Durgen had altered so he could speak after
cutting out his own tongue.
She realized I noticed her hands and signaled to me.
I signaled the only three words Durgen ever had time
to teach me: Father, Orc, Friend.
She smiled, holding her long sharpened stick forward
as if it were a true spear. We stuck our heads over
stone rubble and peaked in. The Owlbear was sleeping,
a mass of fur and feathers. All around it were young
ones, baby, Owlcubs.
Not sure if they laired in mated pairs or not,
clumsily signaled for us to return. That was when an
Owlcub awoke. Its cry must have been heard throughout
the district. The mother wasn’t far behind.
It came upon us in a fury of feathers, fur, claw and
beak. It had the stature of a bear but the eyes of an
owl, its claws were strange talons and its feathered
fur was a mottled grey. The mother Owlbear shrieked
and attacked while her children ran amok in her den.
The creature was groggy and the sunlight disoriented
it. In the end it only bit Ellis once in the
shoulder, not a terrible wound. After the Elf and I
tendered it up a bit Valanicia delivered the killing
blow. Squud broke his tree branch on the creature’s
skull. Ellis raked the creatures eyes, blinding it
while his shoulder still bled.
Val flanked the creature once we drove it back into
the tower and put her good northern broadsword into
the Owlbear’s heart.
Tomene had thrown rocks at it from a distance but his
stone throwing needed considerable work. He
approached Valanicia after the battle and flattered
her, “M’lady that was an artful finishing blow,
indeed.”
Val nodded, cleaning gore from her blade. While the
rest of us searched the tower and stuck the Owlcubs
into a long forgotten pantry, Valanicia cut down a
tattered remnant of a tapestry and put the cloth over
her shield. Wisely, she hid our Esben family
heritage. None of the ragged band are Dornish but
still, best to be sure.
Broken stairs led up to the roof. The tower was a
squat stone structure with only one floor and a
parapet roof. We discussed the possibility of
training the Owcubs but none of us have any knack for
it. The mother will give us meat and clothing for
some time.
While I dressed it, Hishaya found good wood for bows
and arrows.
I presented my Vardatch to Squud for his excellent
prowess in battle.
I thought about our objectives, what we would need to
do to stay alive.
I thought about when Kahan, the Oruk captain wanted
proof of my usefulness. I could think of two items of
proof: a Dryad’s leaf and a Manticore’s claw kept in a
kerchief under my armor.
This would be home for a while. For now home is among
insurgents. For now home is a lonely tower in the
Bastion District. It felt good to be home.
I found an Oak tree and sent a missive on its path,
the message traveled a way only Dryads and their
servants know. After sending a letter written on an
oak leaf, I returned to my new home where we dined on
Owlbear stew.
Story Post # 25
Shadow’s Insurgents
Kahan, the Oruk Warchief, waited until his warband
moved a league or more away before he spoke me,
Valanicia and the slaves. He was an eloquent liar, “I
am a member of a secret society, the Order of the
White Hand. We are a group of Oruk and Orcs who are
fighting Izrador in any way we can from within the
Shadow’s armies.
I have purchased you all from slavery in order to
bring misery to the princeling in charge of Bastion.
This district is the breadbasket of Eredane. The
gruel eaten by Orcs from the Kaladrun to the Erethor
and beyond is grown here, in these lands.
Sameal is a vile man, a southerner with no respect for
life. He burned a Dryad’s tree to the ground less
than a year ago and must be made to pay for his
cruelty. I have brought you all together, under the
leadership of these insurgent captains, Karhoun and
Valanicia, to bring the grain export of Bastion to a
grinding halt.
“There is a broken, abandoned tower less than a league
from here due east. Roost there and make your plans
for the fall’s harvest. Destroy fields and grain
silos when you can. When you can pirate grain, do so.
I will send word on where to cache the stolen grain
for our use.
“Your work will feed insurgents all over Eredane and
starve the Shadow’s soldiers. It is a dangerous life
but Steel Hill is your alternative. To run is to be
hunted and killed by Karhoun, an expert tracker.
“Good luck.”
With that, Kahan and his honor guard made their way to
the departing warband of Oruk and Val and I were left
to look over our party of insurgents. They were all
hungry and dirty. While their situation had
infinitely more hope than a life in the mines of Steel
Hill, under an Ogre slavemaster’s lash, they still
were looking ahead at a life of considerable danger
and risk.
The first slave to catch my eye looked like nothing
more than a beggar, raggedy sack covered his chest and
a sack crudely sewed together made a kind of long
kilt. He seemed to be made of nothing but sinew and
bone with a rough beard hiding his age.
Another was a Halfling, obviously bred into slavery
because he appeared scared of his own shadow. His
fine clothes were covered in filth from his trip.
Life as a slave under Goblins hadn’t been easy on him.
The third looked like nothing more than a little girl,
white blonde hair dirty from her travels with the
Goblin slavers. She had no ears and an odd shape to
her pale blue eyes; I took her for what she was, a
Snow Elf.
The last was a squat monster with Orcish tusks. His
Orcish heritage dominated his features but there was a
touch of something else there too, probably Dwarf.
I announced, “Let’s make way to the tower Kahan
mentioned. We have to be quiet. If anyone sees or
hears us we are dead.” At that I took out some food
and distributed it evenly. They ate it quickly,
desperately. The Halfling nearly choked on the rabbit
jerky and after a few steps on the trail, he vomited
explosively.
“Eat slower next time. We don’t have the food to
waste.”
The Halfling gave a guilty look while wiping the spew
from his chin.
The tower was overgrown with ivy and seemed to list
southward. Where once there was a doorway was only a
broken wall, as if a Giant had ripped out the door by
taking down the entire wall. I noticed a tree with
odd markings, almost like a bear’s claw marks but
there was a difference.
The Snow Elf girl spoke in nearly a whisper, “Owlbear
markings.”
I eyed the clawed tree, trying to make foxes or snakes
of it. “What is an Owlbear?” I asked, “Can it fly?”
She answered slowly, “Izrador’s breeding pits are fond
of creating creatures like this, mixtures of the most
vile elements of nature’s work slapped together. The
Owlbears are a failed experiment let loose into the
world. Now they roam like a natural creature might
roam, finding their place where they may.
“No, it can’t fly.”
“Well, you know your way around the forest…this is
probably a good time to ask, what are your names, what
can you all do?” I asked.
The beggar-looking man answered, “I am Ellis, only a
humble beggar but I am passing fair with my hands.”
“Do you want a sword?” I asked.
“I am better with only my fists,” he explained.
The Halfling spoke quickly, nervous, “I was a
seneschal for a Legate. She taught me…” he hesitated,
looking around but said in a whisper, “…taught me to
read. She died only a few months ago and I don’t
know-“
“You were a seneschal for a Legate?” I asked.
He nodded.
“Which Legate?”
His eyes grew with fear at saying his late master’s
name, “Her name was Calsa.”
It wasn’t a name I recognized. I pointed a Valanicia,
“You are her seneschal now. Understand?”
He seemed more at ease to be in service to a mistress
again and bowed, “M’lady, I am Tomene, at your
service. If there is any way I can help you, please
let me know.”
Val nodded at the Halfling silently.
The Dworg, Half Orc/Half Dwarf, grunted,
“Squud…rrrrg,” he took a thick tree branch and swing
it downwards, grinning.
“Squud, if you prove yourself worthy, you’ll get
this,” and I pointed at the Vardatch that the Oruk had
been kind enough to allow me to keep, when they
returned my gear. I asked, “How did you end up here,
Squud?”
“I good Orc but after manhood they say some Dwarf in
blood too and so I send slavery instead of what I do,”
Squud explained in that special Squud way.
I didn’t need to ask the Snow Elf her story or how she
might be of use. The Snow Elve’s ability to kill Orc
was legend all throughout the Northlands. She
whispered her name, “Hishaya,” and it was all of the
explanation I needed.
The Elf and I approached the tower, now an Owlbear’s
nest, soon to be the quarters of Sameal’s downfall.
She was as quiet as a ghost. We approached the broken
opening of the tower and I noticed her hands, moving,
as if by habit. She was signaling in Patrol Sign, the
Snow Elf hand language. It was the language my mute
brother, Durgen had altered so he could speak after
cutting out his own tongue.
She realized I noticed her hands and signaled to me.
I signaled the only three words Durgen ever had time
to teach me: Father, Orc, Friend.
She smiled, holding her long sharpened stick forward
as if it were a true spear. We stuck our heads over
stone rubble and peaked in. The Owlbear was sleeping,
a mass of fur and feathers. All around it were young
ones, baby, Owlcubs.
Not sure if they laired in mated pairs or not,
clumsily signaled for us to return. That was when an
Owlcub awoke. Its cry must have been heard throughout
the district. The mother wasn’t far behind.
It came upon us in a fury of feathers, fur, claw and
beak. It had the stature of a bear but the eyes of an
owl, its claws were strange talons and its feathered
fur was a mottled grey. The mother Owlbear shrieked
and attacked while her children ran amok in her den.
The creature was groggy and the sunlight disoriented
it. In the end it only bit Ellis once in the
shoulder, not a terrible wound. After the Elf and I
tendered it up a bit Valanicia delivered the killing
blow. Squud broke his tree branch on the creature’s
skull. Ellis raked the creatures eyes, blinding it
while his shoulder still bled.
Val flanked the creature once we drove it back into
the tower and put her good northern broadsword into
the Owlbear’s heart.
Tomene had thrown rocks at it from a distance but his
stone throwing needed considerable work. He
approached Valanicia after the battle and flattered
her, “M’lady that was an artful finishing blow,
indeed.”
Val nodded, cleaning gore from her blade. While the
rest of us searched the tower and stuck the Owlcubs
into a long forgotten pantry, Valanicia cut down a
tattered remnant of a tapestry and put the cloth over
her shield. Wisely, she hid our Esben family
heritage. None of the ragged band are Dornish but
still, best to be sure.
Broken stairs led up to the roof. The tower was a
squat stone structure with only one floor and a
parapet roof. We discussed the possibility of
training the Owcubs but none of us have any knack for
it. The mother will give us meat and clothing for
some time.
While I dressed it, Hishaya found good wood for bows
and arrows.
I presented my Vardatch to Squud for his excellent
prowess in battle.
I thought about our objectives, what we would need to
do to stay alive.
I thought about when Kahan, the Oruk captain wanted
proof of my usefulness. I could think of two items of
proof: a Dryad’s leaf and a Manticore’s claw kept in a
kerchief under my armor.
This would be home for a while. For now home is among
insurgents. For now home is a lonely tower in the
Bastion District. It felt good to be home.
I found an Oak tree and sent a missive on its path,
the message traveled a way only Dryads and their
servants know. After sending a letter written on an
oak leaf, I returned to my new home where we dined on
Owlbear stew.
LRathbun said:
The first game started with Karhoun and the Elf and the Gnome. Then in Whitecliff they were seperated. As fate would have it, the Elf and Gnome's players couldn't make it to the game, haven't been able to get there since.
So, the game has become about Karhoun, which I think has made it much more interesting than perhaps it would have been in a traditional group.
The only characters being played now are Karhoun and Valanicia. All of the party, the Snow Elf, the Dworg, the Erendlander and the Halfling are NPC's. If someone visits me for a weekend, I might hand one of them off to him or...something else.
Hope that clears it up.
Any other questions?
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