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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Paka" data-source="post: 951538" data-attributes="member: 100">Story Post #9The Ballad of Karhoun EsbenThe Road to Port EsbenI am Karhoun Esben and I am a servant of the Shadow, a good peon, the Legate's faithful Wildlander.  We were on our way to Port Esben after Whitecliff decimated our party.  The Elf and the Gnome left us to find what they consider freedom.  Mayhaps freedom will be the death of them and mayhaps it won’t be.Goblins and Orcs were killed by the Manticore, most assuredly the most frightening beast I have ever met.  The Manticore was walking proof of Izrador’s terrible power.  There is only one creature in the world that might be more frightening than the Manticore, one animal that comes close:  my father.Picked up to an Orcish pace now that the Gnome and Elf weren’t slowing us down we made good time towards the place that was my home before the dark years of Wildlander training in Theros Obsidia.  Boots the Goblin and I were head of the party while Suk and that other Orc waited with Unaros and his demon-mastiff.  We found tracks, great ruts in the ground that no normal cart could make.  The party guarding the cart was very professional, very well trained.  There were thirteen of them and their patterns of scouting were complicated and well thought-out.  I was fairly certain I could get closer but some of my approach will be left to luck and trickery, Loki-craft.On the road I found an oak leaf, not a tree indigenous to this area.  I folded it up like a sacred parchment and bought it back to Unaros with news of the cart.  The Legate, in his dark wisdom, sent us to get closer to the cart, find out what it might be.  Again Boots and I went to the fore.We made our way to a nearby ridge, careful to avoid their overlapping patrols.  I estimated that it would only take about twenty minutes for the party to figure out that one of their number is missing.  In the wild that is doing well.Careful to avoid showing our silhouette to the valley below we peered down at the travelers.  There were nine of them around the cart, with a scout coming to report back every so often.  Upon inspection it was obvious these were no ordinary Orcs.  These were Oruk.  Orcs call themselves the Sons of Izrador; Oruk call themselves the True Sons of Izrador.  They were brutal warrios with wicked looking Vardatch (Vardatch= Orcish for Cleaver) and well-kept full plate armor, dulled to a smoky tint so’s not to reflect the sunlight.  Between their weapons and their armor they were walking king’s ransoms.  But who would be willing to collect such treasure?  They walked in a perfect formation around the cart, not too bunched up but close enough to support one another.  Half carried bows and the other half had their Vardatch at the ready.The cart itself was a marvel, with an Oak standing upright between its four wheels, pulled by a team of six draft horses.  It was placed in the cart carefully, held aloft by pullies and winches so’s not to damage the roots.  There were two drivers sitting up front, directing the team and near the tree was a woman, a dark Fey beauty with light brown hair the color of summer wheat.  This was what they were transporting, but what and why?We watched for a while, looking for a clue.  Someone from Port Esben arrived by horseback, a woman in mail, carrying a sword.  She presented the Esben family banner, a tower breaking on a gray field, as it has always been.  The Esben colors were put below the other banner that rides with the oak, an Orcish tribal marker of some kind.  Odds are the rider was a kinswoman of mine but I couldn’t recognize her from this distance.Slowly and carefully, we headed back to the Legate and Boots made his first mistake.  He got up too hastily and kicked some stones down the ridge.  Everything stopped and the Oruk form a ring around the cart.  Now we began to hustle back to Unaros; I would’ve killed the Goblin if he wasn’t our own one remaining.  Surely Loki himself must be making me the butt of some epic joke to have been placed with the traveling companions that I have recently endured.We made our way around a boulder and there was an Oruk scout, bow string notched, having gotten the jump on us.  Hands up, weapons given to him, I was taken back to the cart.  The captain allowed Boots to return to the Legate.  I told the Goblin to run and he runs towards Unaros and bring the Legate.They seem confused that I am an Esben but not from the city.  I explained that I was from Theros Obsidia, part of a Legate’s entourage that was traveling towards Baden’s Bluff.  The captain nodded.The Esben was Valanicia, my sister.   She took care of me when I was but a babe, some ten years my senior.  Her mail and sword must mean that she grew tried of raising us babes.  Tis a shame she left the nursery because she kept many of father’s beatings at bay for the younglings.  Maybe she grew tired of sheltering us from his wrath or maybe his anger is directed in new avenues.It is said father wishes to spawn ninety-nine children, one for each year of Izrador’s reign.  It is also said that he is more than halfway to his goal, but none have a clear record of us to be sure.  So many of us Esben spawn are spread all over Eredane, serving the Shadow as best we can.Seeing Val was a cold splash of reality and we received each other coolly.   I feel what I have always felt when seeing one of my kin, that they are looking for weakness.  I wondered if she found any.She said, "Father told me you would be here.  Izrador sent him a dream in which you arrived with his monument.""Monument?" I asked and she motioned towards the oak tree.Now that I was next to the cart I wanted to get a closer look at the dark beauty, the lady of the oak.  Mysteriously, I could find no trace of her, I considered what she might be while looking at the oak leaf, before folding it up and putting it away.After Master Unaros met with the Oruk captain we began our final approach of Port Esben.[Meta-game Note:  Special thanks to JJ, the player of Karhoun for writing extensive notes after this game and sending them to me.  I always feel funny writing anything from the POV of the player's characters, thinking that it is there place to put thoughts to their actions.  JJ was kind enough to give me a doorway to Karhoun's thoughts.  Thanks, JJ.Also thanks to Akayla, for playing Val this game.  It was nice to game with them again and I hope she can make it to more of these games in the future.And as always, thanks to young 8 month old Jack, who gurgled quietly while his mom and dad gamed.]</blockquote>

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