Struggle and Strife- A scarred lands storyhour

[Lars Frehse]

Strange Bedfellows- part 2

As soon as they were back on the Corrada Corridor, they picked up speed. Occasionally, they overtook caravans, but even though Donnangar usually hid his head with the hood of his coat, their horserat and the dire wolf attracted more than enough attention.

Then, one night, they camped together with a heavily guarded caravan. As the night dragged on, and some of the guards got bolder, their captain challenged Donnangar to a fist-fight. The Orc was reluctant at first, but when the human started throwing insults at him, he shrugged and accepted the challenge.

The two opponents unstrapped their weapons and got out of their armor and after the merchants and guards had formed a circle around them, the captain of the guard started to throw punches at Donnangar. He was a massive man, and almost as burly as the orc, but as he was swinging wildly at his opponent, Donnangar dodged each and every blow. He didn’t even raise his arms- his fists were dangling on his sides as he was moving with the grace of a cat and nimbly shuffling his feet.

The human got more and more furious as Donnangar was outwitting him with a sly smile. But then the warchief seemed to get tired of the fight, because now he was shooting his hammerheadsized fists at the human. After a quick combination, which made the captain’s head fly around like a piece of wood in a storm, Donnangar hit him in the stomach. The human doubled over and broke down, breathless and unconcious for now.

The fight was over, but Torn saw one of the guards to his right pulling a knife from under his coat. Donnangar was facing away from them at the moment, and the mercenary moved forward in order to attack him from behind, but Torn grabbed the man and shoved him back.

For a few moments, they were staring at each other, but then the human backed off- apparently he didn’t have the guts to attack Torn. He put his knife back under his coat and sneered in broken Ledean:” Yeah, youse Orcs always shtick together…”.

Torn grinned and nodded: “You know, that is actually correct.”

As Torn turned to gratulate Donnangar, Niklas adressed the guard: “Hey, you know that my pal just saved a life, don’t you?”

The guard spat and looked up to the monk:” Yeah, saved the filthy orc’s hide, he did.”.

“No, actually, I meant he saved your life. You saw that orc fighting? You don’t think you would have had a chance, do you? Not even with a knife…”

Some of the other guards were now grinning openly, and he only said:” Whatever”, as he left the campfire and disappeared into the night.

For days, they rode on, and now the nights were getting colder, signalling the end of summer and the coming of autumm. As they were getting closer to Mithril, the number of patrols they encountered grew from day to day. Some of the Vigilantes and Paladins they met knew Donanngar, but even those who didn’t recognize him used Corean’s gift of detecting evil and they looked into his heart. Since they saw no evil in him, they all let him pass.

Eventually, they reached Mithril. They approached the single massive gate to the city, and even from there, they saw the gigantic form of the namegiving Golem. Dwarving even the biggest structures of the metropolis, the Mithril Golem stood upright in it’s eternal guard. It had been crafted by Corean himself, and after the construct had helped imprisoning Khadum at the bottom of the ocean, it had walked back to the shore where it was standing ever since. Later, the worshippers of Corean had built a city around it, which had attracted thousands and thousands over the time.

After they had passed the Paladins at the gate, which had made certain that they were truly the masters of the direwolf and the horserat, they found an inn that accepted their steeds. Once inside, they went to the large complex that was built around the Mithril Golem: Corean’s temple. There, they went to the small monasterie of the “Fists of Mithril”.

They were greeted warmly by Brother Juverus, an old monk who happily greeted Niklas and his friends and handed them their reward after they delivered the books which Brother William had given them back in Durrover.

Ben and Niklas stayed in order to look for maps or travel logs of Thalien, hoping to find out where “Hor’ Kung”, the ancient Orc city was located. Meanwhile, Torn and Trepat headed down to the harbor.

Mithril was divided into two parts: Temple City and Harbor City. In Temple City, beautiful multistory houses made of marble were there rule. Here, under the shadow of the golem, the priests and paladins of Corean were living along with the rulers of the city, who usually came from their ranks. Harbor City was a lawless sprawl. Here, the poor and destitute were living, as well as the middle class and the succesfull merchants. The houses were mostly made of wood, and small alleys and sidestreets were crisscrossing the district.

As they reached the harbor, Torn saw the Blood Sea for the first time: The whole ocean had the color of Khadum’s blood, and they weren’t quite certain whether the salt they were smelling was simply the mundane salt of the ocean or if it was the salt of the titan’s blood…

Clouds were darkening the sky now, and rain was falling down as the wind picked up and was blowing landwards.

They walked from ship to ship, asking whether they could charter it for a trip to Thalien. Most captains told them off right away: There were pirates lairing in the toe islands and the waters between Mithril and Thailen were dominated by Pisceans, evil fish-creatures who had been transformed by Khadum’s blood. And even those who were ready to take the risk waved off when they found out that one of the passengers would be an orc.

As they were about to give up hope, Trepat and Torn approached a middlesized sloop which was being trimmed by what appeared to be a crew that consisted solely of forsaken elves. The most striking feature of the ship was a figurehead, which was carved in the shape of a willowy, pale-skinned, sad eyed elf woman.

Both stood in the rain and looked at the ship and it’s busy crew, as an Elf who was dressed in elaborate and expensive velvet and silken clothes approached them:” A beauty, isn’t she?”.

Torn didn’t know whether he meant the ship or the figurehead, he nodded in agreement: “Actually, we are looking for a ship. Do you know the captain?”.

The Elf smiled warmly:” Of course I know him! My name is Ith’laen Khemaitas, and the Ghost maid, which is the name of the vessel you are looking at right now, is my ship.”

 

[Ruined]

Yayy, the group's in Mithril now. Looks very cool, Lars. I especially liked the campsite scene with Donnager and the guards. Good stuff.

I'm eager for more SL!

 

[Lars Frehse]

Thank you. From now on, Mithril will most likely become the player's homebase. Unless they do something completely unexpected, of course. (But then again, sometimes my group DOES act rather unexpected.).

 

[Lars Frehse]

Strange Bedfellows-- part 3 of 4

Khemaitas bowed foppishly while the rain and the wind got even worse, and as Torn was about to introduce himself, he straightened up again, and pointed to the deck:” Let us go into my cabin. We can properly get to know each other there. I am afraid that my hair is already in disarray and my clothing is not made for the water.”.

They went on board and into the captain’s cabin. It was a small and comfortable place with a small ebon table with maps on top and chairs that were cushioned with red velvet. A small oven was radiating heat so that they could get out of the heavy coats that had been protecting them against the cold of the evening.

After they had closed the door behind them, Kemaitas got a bottle of wine and three glasses out of a small cabinet and as he used one hand to absentmindedly dry his long blond hair with a towel, he put the three glasses and the bottle down with his other hand.

He rolled up his maps and put them into a drawer and then, he leaned back in his chair and threw his feets on the table. He called for one of his crewmen to fill up the glasses, and when they were alone and everyone was holding a full glass of red wine in his hand, he said:” Now, please tell me good gentlemen, how can I be of service to you?”

“Captain, this here”, Torn said, pointing at his friend:” is Trepat and my name is Torn. We are on an important mission, and it could take a while to tell you what it is all about.”.

“I have time to listen to you. My men are overhauling the Ghost Maid now, and it will take at least four days until she is ready to sail again. Until then, you have my ear.”

Torn told him about the epidemy and Trepat added something when he thought his friend had forgotten something important. They talked for an hour and Khemaitas listened intently, rarely asking clarifying questions.

When they were done, the forsaken elf nodded slowly:” So, unless you get to Thalien with this orc, more and more of the orcs will get killed by the epidemie…”

It was a rhetoric question, but Torn said:”Yes” nonetheless.

“The balance is in danger”, Khemaitas said and his voice was barely audible:” There are too few orcs already…”.

Then his voice got louder again:” Sure, I will take you for onehundred goldpieces each. Each passenger may take one “steed” along for free.”.

Torn and Trepat were delighted. And since the elf was already offering the passage for much less than it was worth, they agreed right away. When they told him that they would still have to search the archives, Khemaitas told them that they shouldn’t have to worry- his crew would actually be glad if the search would take a little longer, since they hadn’t had a decent shoreleave in a while.


For the next days, Ben and Niklas searched through the archives, but it seemed that the library of the Brothers was built in order to keep knowledge within it’s walls instead of passing it on. They searched and searched, but everytime they found a book that looked promising, it never contained anything about Thalien or the ancient orcish culture that used to live there.

After they had spent almost a week looking for a clue, brother Juverus had pity with them and said:”You know, there is a layman we always go to when we see that our library is keeping it’s secrets from us. He is a bit strange, but he has a lot of tomes with rare knowledge and often before he procured books of which we thought that they would have been lost forever.”

Niklas and Ben were both interested:” Who is he?”

“His name is Chel Azatam and he owns a bookstore down in Gull Street in Harbor City. The store is called “Rare Books”.”

The two friends were happy for an excuse to leave the dusty library for a while and went downtown. There, they soon found the bookstore and after Ben decided to take a walk, Niklas entered alone. Each of the walls were boasting shelves which were filled to overflowing. Everywhere, there were piles of books: on tables, on chairs, on the floor and even on the stairs that was leading up to a single bedroom.

In the middle of this chaotic mass of books, Niklas was greeted by a thin Calastian expatriate: “Welcome, welcome! My name is Chel Azatam! How may I help you?”

“Greetings. My name is Niklas and I am a member of the Fists of Mitril. I am searching for a map of Thalien with the Orcish ruincity on it.”.

“Ah, Hor’ Kung you mean… Yes. Yes… Yes, I do have such a book. After Mithril was founded, missionaries went out to the toes, and one of them made a map of Thalien on which he marked Hor’ Kung!”

Niklas was surprised: They had searched for a week, and it took this man less than a minute to get the needed information. Chel pulled out the book from under one of the piles, to him, there was a perfect order in the chaotic pile of books, and Niklas asked:” How much?”

Chel pushed the book against his chest, and his voice became protective:”You know, actually, I wouldn’t want to part with this one here.”

Niklas was surprised: “But I thought that this was a bookshop? Why wouldn’t you want to sell a book?”


“Yes, yes, you are right. But, well, take a look around… Everytime I buy a book, I say to myself:” Chel Azatam, you will sell this one”. But then the books grow on me and I don’t sell them… Sometimes I sell them, of course, but I buy more often than I sell…

“That is why this store looks like that. Fortunately my cats are all out right now. Else it could get really crowded. But, hey, I can make a copy of the map inside it.”

Niklas agreed, and before Chel started to draw a copy of the map, he served tea and cookies to his cutomers. As Niklas drank tea, the bookshop owner told him that for a while, after the foundation of Mithril, Thalien had been where Mithril had gotten it’s marble. But then, the bloodstorm, the pisceans and the pirates made the operation of a quarry unpracticable.

After he had the map, that showed the ruins of Hor’ Kung between a forest and a magroves swamp, he asked Chel whether he had any books about meditation and combat techniques, he was shown a book that had been written by an Exemplar.

Exemplar’s were the chosen ones of Hedrada. Like the fists of Mithril, they were striving for perfection of their body and mind, and to help them, Hedrada has even granted them the gift of reincarnation: Everytime an Exemplar was reborn, he immediately knew of his old self, so that he could go on perfecting himself.

This book now described techniques he had never heard off before. Leafing through the pages about meditation and discipline, Niklas saw that there were many things in there that he could use in the future. He bought the book and the next time he met his friends, he showed them the map.

Now, they were ready, and a few days later, their journey on the “Ghost Maid” began. As they left the harbor, the wind blew up the sails, and they left the harbor and sailed out to the red ocean.

 

[Lars Frehse]

Chapter 11: Strange Bedfellows- part 4 of 4

Once they were out on the open sea, they picked up speed. Each of the crewmen and -women were able to fulfill their tasks without much talk. They were efficient enough to make it look like they had worked together on this ship for over a century- and since they were forsaken elves, this wasn't even that unlikely at all.

For the heroes, the time on the ship was pleasantly boring. All there was to see for the first days was the endless red ocean and the only thing they had to take care of was to not stand in the way. Meanwhile, Captain Khemaitas was mercurial like the sea- one moment he would be friendly and likeable just to turn cold and and distant the next moment.

During the first night on sea, Trepat left his cabin in order to pass water overboard. As he reached deck, he noticed something peculiar: Captain Khemaitas seemed to be talking to someone who was just below and beyond the front of the ship. Then, Trepat saw that the captain was actually talking to the vessel's figurehead, the Ghost Maid herself and that she was talking as well. Her sad and elegant face was turned to face the captain, and she seemed to be chatting amiably.

The noise of the water and the creaking of the masts was louder than their talking, and the moment they noticed Trepat's presence, the figurehead reverted to it's original, lifeless form. Khemaitas turned casually around, and, acting as if nothing had happened he said:" Beautiful night, ain't it?"

Trepat, who decided to play along, nodded:" Sure. After the stench of Mithril, the air is especially nice.".

"Yes, of course. I can't stand that place for too long, either. There is nothing that beats living on the sea... You are lucky, though. There are usually fierce storms raging over the bloodsea in the autumm... But if you do whatever you have to do on Thalien swiftly enough, we might make it back to Mithril before the storms.".

They watched the sea together for a while, and then, Trepat returned to his cabin.

On the next day, the weather remained calm and they were swiftly cutting through the waves. Donanngar and Khemaitas where standin right where Trepat had seen the elvish captain in the night before and they were deep in conversation.

All of the heroes were on deck, enjoying the sun, as all of a sudden they noticed several huge fins cutting through the water alongside their ship. They could hardly see the shapes of the creatures under the backfins, but each of them seemed to be about eight feet long.

Apparently, the crewmen had noticed the fins as well. They all armed themselves with composite longbows- it was obvious that they were expecting trouble. Warily, the heroes pulled out their ranged weapons as well, as all of a sudden the wind stopped blowing. With the sails hanging limp, the boat soon lost all speed until it was lazily rocking on the sea.

The creatures in the water slowed down alongside the ship, and after they had stopped, they emerged with their upper bodies out of the water. They were green colored fish-like creatures who's red eyes were burning with the fire of a cold and cruel intellect. In their arms, they were holding large harpoon-like spears which they were holding up in their hands, ready to throw. Here they were, the creatures that they had heard so many gruesome tales about back in Mithril: Pisceans.

Among them, in front of the ship, there was a black scaled Piscean, who was two feet taller than the rest and who seemed to be their leaders. Half of his body was above the water as he shouted:" Give us your gold or we will take your ship and your lives.".

Khemaitas started to answer, but before he could utter the first word, Donnangar was already holding his composite bow in his hands. He shot rapidly at the black scaled piscean, and each time one of the arrows was let loose, he was already cocking the next one. Soon, the Orc had spiked his enemy with arrows and a general battle ensued.

The Piscean's tactic was simple: They used their harpoons to pull their victims into the ocean, where they could easily drown them. Meanwhile, everyone on board was shooting back, occasionaly helping their neighbors when they got hit by a harpoon. Two of the crewmen were wizards, and they shot lightning into the water. The electricity exploded once it hit the water, injuring several of the surrounding Pisceans at once.

The heroes fought as good as they could as well. Then, Trepat and Niklas were both hit by one of the Pisceans. Immediately, their friends were with them, cutting the ropes of the spears. Now, both weren't in danger of getting pulled into the ocean anymore, but the weapons were still sticking in their bodies.

Torn pulled the harpoon out of Niklas, and after Ben had taken care of the deep wound that was bleeding where the harpoon used to enter his shoulder, he went over to Trepat. The elf was hit in the stomach and was barely concious anymore. With one violent motion, he jerked the harpoon free. Fortunately, mercifull darkness surrounded Trepat then, saving him from the pain.

The battle raged on as the heroes were trying to fend for themselves. Already, two of the crewmen were overboard, their bodies drawn into unfathomable dephts. Each of the Pisceans who lost his harpoon disappeared underwater only to reappear after a short while with a new one. Then, everything grew silent. Donanngar had hit their leader, who had been flinging spells against the ship, right between the eyes, and the giant Pisceans fell backwards, dead.

Since they had already lost almost a dozen green pisceans as well, this was enough to break the attacker's morale, and as soon as the Pisceans had disappeared, the wind picked up again and they were able to sail away.

For the next day, they were wary about a new Piscean attack, but it never came, and eventually, they reached Thalien, where they hid the ship between some small islands within the delta of the island's biggest river.

 

[Nightfall]

Yes! When Pisceans Attack! Great stuff Lars! Can't wait to see what else they bring home with them.

 

[Lars Frehse]

Thank you, I am glad you like it.

The next little chapter, which I am about to post now, is unique in a way. For the first time, I am not posting an actual log, but rather a little story that will become relevant for the characters soon. It took place long, long before the events in my campaign.

I hope you will like it.

 

[Lars Frehse]

A sort of homecoming

When Charkowar returned from his trip, he expected a welcome that was quite different from the one he would get. As he had been travelling around the globe, encountering more new cultures and new dangers than most mortals ever had, there was always one thing that kept him going: The thought of home: Hor'Kung.

It had been the same everywhere: In Termana, where the Charduni had captured him it was the thought of home that kept him going. Likewise, when the princess of Indrisa had offered him her hand and her kingdom, he had to tell her that he could never settle down anywhere but home.

Charkowar had left Hor' Kung when he was merely twenty years old, and now he was fourty, which was already old age for an Orc. In spite of the years, though, he was still in good shape, and his tusks were still strong and even. And even though he didn't look like the scrawny young wizard apprentice he had been twenty years ago anymore, the change to his outside was nothing compared to the changes within him.

He was most likely the first orc, if not the first mortal, who had travelled around the entire globe. The knowledge he had gathered in the meantime was far beyond that of any of his contemporaries, and the arcane arts he had mastered by now where second to none.

However, as he was flying low over the water on his flying carpet and he saw Thalien's mountains appearing over the horizon, he sensed that something wasn't as it was supposed to be. He stopped the carpet and cast a spell. Immediately, there were over a dozen of semitangible orbs hovering around him. He gave each of the orbs instructions to scout a part of the island and return to him afterwards.

After a few hours, the first orbs were back. With each of the orbs that landed on his palms, he absorbed what the "prying eyes" had seen. Soon, he knew why there were no sign of his people at the edge of the islands- no fisherboats, no young couples picknicking by the lake and no other signs- There were no orcs left...

He saw that there must have been a big war on the island. Hor'Kung, the city that used to be a home for over onehundredthousand orcs was destroyed. It's proud walls that were build with boulders that were the size of houses were torn down and all there was left of it's beautiful white marble houses was rubble.

Charkovar was stunned. He didn't know what to make of it. He remembered that the city state of Hor'Kung had been in constant trouble with a growing human empire on Ghelspad. But he never thought that the humans, who had always seemed to be a tad helpless to him could manage such a feat.

For a while, he considered jumping into the blue ocean under him. After all, there was nowwhere left for him to go. Each and everyone he ever knew here was dead. The alleys, the parks and the marketplaces where he had played as a kid were all destroyed. Likewise, everyone he knew here was dead, as well. Ending it all looked very appealing to him now.

Charkovar had never considered giving up before. Neither when he was suddenly attacked by a red dragon in the Qu-Wack desert nor when he overheard his Charduni captors discussing whether they would kill him outright or sacrifice him to Chardun. But now, there was simply nothing left to do and nowwhere left to go. All that had been dear to him was gone.

He might have been about to jump off the carpet as a last eye returned to him. Absentmindedly, he opened his fist, and the small orb landed in his palms. Within seconds, it transmitted to him what it had seen in hours.

And all of a sudden his life had a purpose again.

The humans who had destroyed his home had left four small forts behind. Most likely they were to make sure that Orcs would never return here. In each of the forts, there were hundred soldiers, and the banners of the Ledean Empire were flying proudly in the wind on top of the masts.

He now knew what he had to do, although he was feeling nothing. He flew into a small forest where he spent the night. The next morning, he methodically prepared the spells he needed for his revenge. When he was done, he walked to the first camp, which was to the south of the ruins of Hor'Kung.

He had almost left the forest, as he was hailed by a patrol of six soldiers. In spite of his archmage robes, the soldiers seemed to mistake him for a harmless survivor. He stopped, and their commander walked up to him, his selfconfidence showing with every step:"Now, now, now. What have we here... Another Orc... Well, we can take care of him right here, right now, can't we boys?"

Before the "boys" could answer, however, Charkovar answered instead by shooting lightning through the officer which then flashed over to the other soldiers, killing them all. He stepped over the bodies and left the forest. There, he saw the fort with his own eyes, some hundred yards ahead of him, right in the middle between the wood and the ruins of the city.

He summoned an elder Earth Elementar. It looked like a walking hill, and as it shambled towards the fort, the defenders' arrows bounced off it's rocky skin. It ignored the futile attacks of the soldiers as it destroyed the fort and killed each and everyone therein, just like a child with a cruel streak might ignore the desperate ant-attacks while he would destroy their hill.

Charkovar cast another spell, and he and his flying carpet turned invisble. He visited each of the three remaining camps like an invisible angel of death and most of the soldiers died without knowing what had hit them. Then, he hunted down every remaining human on the island and killed them all, men and women alike.

The whole operation had taken him merely half a day, and now, at last, the time had come for the mourning and loneliness to get a hold of him. For days, he walked aimlessly through the ruins of his city. He saw skulls and corpses everywhere, and eventually, he used his magic to animate the corpses so that they would collect all bones they found. Finally, when the corpses where done and they had built a huge pile in front of the great pyramid, which served as the main temple to Khadum, they laid themselves on top of the pile.

Now, as the sun was setting, everything that was left of the former inhabitants was piled up in a form that mirrored the pyramid. Charkovar summoned several fire elementals which burnt the bones to ashes and then they burnt the ashes until nothing was left...

Charkovar didn't watch the pyre. Instead, he walked up to the top of the pyramid. He wanted to check whether the secret door that lead inside was still untouched, but before he could enter the small building on top, he saw something white among the rouble to the east. Since he wasn't able to see what it was, he used magic to get a better picture, and to his surprise, he saw that there was still a statue of "the angel".

"The Angel" was a mythical figure. On pictures and statues, she was always depicted as a beautiful orcish woman with an even face and small ebony colored tusks. She had white swanwings and she was always holding her orcish doubleaxe that she used to punish those who harmed her charge: Orcs. Noone knew where she had come from, but it was widely supposed that she was a daughter of Khadum and one of the gods... Among the orcs, she was widely revered as the founder of Hor'Kung and the bringer of civilization.

He flew down to it. The statue was about eight foot tall and half buried under some rubble, yet it had survived the ravaging humans without a scratch. It was a miracle.

Charkovar animated some of the bigger rocks, which grew arms and legs, and he had them drag the angel up to the pyramid. There, he went into the small building that was really just four giant slabs of rocks as walls and another one as a roof. To his great relief, he saw that the humans had never discovered the secret shaft that lead into the interior of the temple.

He climbed down into it and activated a mechanism that moved some rocks in order to hide the shaft again. After that, he made sure that the statue was placed in the deepest room which also held the city's stock of antidote against the plague that had devastated the lands a century earlier.

The Orcish archmage then added a picture of the end of the city to the pictures that were lining the long corridor that lead to the core. The pictures showed several scenes from the history of the city, starting with the foundation. And after looking into the future, he also added a picture about the events that would take place in a year.

Then, he sat down on a chair that was facing the shaft, straightened his purple robes and slashed his wrists.

This is also where the story would end, if the soldiers had not sworn an oath in the name of Chardun...

 

[SSS-Druid]

Absolutely beautiful, Lars. That story was inspired.

 

[Nightfall]

LOL! Great stuff! I hope the poor Archmage orc finds some happiness. But yep upcoming ladies and germs, Chardun-slain!