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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Paka" data-source="post: 1021754" data-attributes="member: 100">The Ballad of Karhoun EsbenStory Post #24A Return to Killing StrengthStill 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 OakI 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</blockquote>

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