Struggle and Strife- A scarred lands storyhour
- Thread starter Lars Frehse
- Start date
Lars Frehse
First Post
Southwards- part 4 of 4
Jan looked up and around- his friends were as frozen as himself. For a moment, everything was possible: if they burst out in sudden violence now, they would surely get the Dragoon and the soldiers by surprise, and maybe, they could rescue this man from their clutches. But on the other hand, they had a mission, and not only would they endanger their own lives, but the ritual of how to destroy the amphora could stay unknown for too long, until the servants of the Serpentmother would get a hold of the terrible artifact again...
The moment passed, and Torn said: „Yes, of course, sir“. Jan didn’t object and hung his head to hide his shame and anger, and the moment of choice had passed. There was nothing they could do.
„Very well, then“, the Colonel said, his smirk resounding in his haughty voice: „I will have to ask you to accompany us briefly. We need merely take him back to the site of his crime, so he may be judged. If you are actually his accomplices, we will find out, and you will be dealt with. If however, you are truly innocent travelers who just stumbled over him, you are of course free to go.“
Gihjan gestured his soldiers and immediately, they surrounded the adventurers. There was nothing for them to do but go with the soldiers. Fortunately, it was merely a two miles march and then they found themselves in an open pasture in the middle of a field of wheat. Gathered around, there were ten more soldiers, and about a dozen men, women and children who were dressed in the simple garbs of serfs.
One of the families was shackled together at the ankles and in the middle of the pasture there was a wooden framework in the middle of the pasture with a pair of manacles hanging from the crossbar at the top. Before the friends could take in the entire scene, however, two soldiers had already taken the runaway soldier and after having dragged him to the structure, they chained him to the structure.
The soldiers were taking their time, while Colonel Gihjan orchestrated their work, and one of the soldiers who was watching over the group stepped up between Torn and Jan. Looking straight ahead past them to the frame, he asked with a hushed voice: „How did you poor devils get caught up in this?“.
Torn and Jan turned to him shortly: the soldier had the olive skin of the south combined with the stocky frame of the Kelders, and even though he seemed to be not much older than they were, his brown eyes looked tired and world-weary. Turning his head back to the scene of how the man they had met just an hour ago was manacled to the frame, Torn said: „We were travelling to Durm when he stumbled over us and broke down the moment he saw us. What is going on here?“
The soldier stared forwards, and hardly moving his lips, he said: „The people here have been gathered for one of the Colonel’s lessons in obedience, as he calls it. The old man in the middle of that chained family said something to the Colonel. I wasn’t able to hear what it was, but the Colonel didn’t like it. No, not at all.“
The two soldiers had the semi-concious man hanging in the manacles now, but for some reason Colonel Gihjan didn’t like it. He scolded one of the soldiers with cold fury in his eyes, his voice too low for the friends to hear, and the men hastily opened the shackles again, hurridly trying to fixate the man in a way that would please their superiors.
Meanwhile, the soldier who had been talking to Jan and Torn, though the other three were close enough to listen as well, continued: „ So he starts whipping them for minutes, and after the poor sod’s back was crisscrossed with bleeding stains, the girl steps in and insults the Colonel, calling him something you never want to call a Dragoon. He was furious and so he...“
The soldier swallowed drily, and then went on: „He ordered the nearest soldier to rape the girl, in front of her father, and then slit her throat. The soldier was Zedris... You met him...
„Anyway, I have seen many things in battle, but this? This is not what I signed up for, and neither did Zedris. He couldn’t bring himself to do it, so he ran... And now he is back here, poor bugger. Let’s just hope he will get a quick death.“.
By now, Gihjan and the soldiers were done tying Zedris to the frame, and they stepped back from the frame. Zedris was hanging spread-eagled, suspended by his wrists while his legs were tied to the side-beams of the frame and there was already blood running down fromt where the manacles were cutting into his arms.
Colonel Gihjan positioned himself in the middle of the pasture, where he waited until he was sure that he had the attention of all villagers, soldiers and foreigners: „This“, he announced with a booming voice, „is the fate of all traitors to Duke Traviak and the chain of command!“
He turned to the shackled family: „You people drew the rightful wrath of the Black Dragoon. I am within my rights to execute you all along with the traitor.“
„However“, he continued after a small pause, „I am prepared to grant mercy to you. After all, in a way, I have to be thankful to you: Unwittingly you have exposed a much more dangerous criminal in my own ranks by your actions.“
Still staring at them with his menacing dark eyes, he gestured with a black-gauntleted hand, which prompted nearby soldiers to remove the family’s manacles. Then, with another gesture he summoned other soldiers which brought in three wheelbarrows full of stones and heavy branches, which they put in front of the dazed family.
Turning his back to the family, Colonel Gihjan adressed the rest of the crowd: „The sentence for treason is death.“
Then, he suddenly spinned around, and now he was staring at the family again: „You may now prove your loyalty to Duke Traviak and your own sentence shall be deferred.“.
For a few seconds, nothing happened, and the pasture was absolutely silent. Then, the man who had been whipped by Colonel Gihjan, his daughter who had almost been raped and murdered and all the other members of the family picked up sticks and stones...
They didn’t have the heart to use all their force against Zedris, and thus it took them minutes which felt like hours to kill the very man who couldn’t bring himself to harm them. Meanwhile, tears of rage were burning in the eyes of the friends. There was nothing they could do but watch- they knew that even if not all of the soldiers approved of their colonel’s behaviour, they would immediately attack them should they try to interfere.
So, as Zedris was slowly being killed and his cries of pain and agony were reaching out for heaven, the friends could just as well have been chained to the ground, and each of them knew that no matter what else was going to happen in their further lives, these moments would haunt them in their nightmares forever.
When it was over, Colonel Gihjan instructed the peasants to not take off the corpse of the deserteur from the frame until it had been picked clean by the birds, and then, when they were gone, he went over to instruct his soldiers about future operations.
Not being dismissed, the friends waited, until, almost as if in an afterthought, the Colonel turned to them: „Oh, Zedris confirmed that you were chance encounters. You are free to go“. And with that, they were already gone and away for all that he could care.
Silent, the friends moved on. Soon, the sun set, and they set up a silent camp, all of them too consumed by their own thoughts to talk much. They had seen that the divine folks didn’t necessarily act less wickedly and cruelly than any titanspawn, and their journey through these lands of worshippers of the tyrant god was far from over just yet...
Jan looked up and around- his friends were as frozen as himself. For a moment, everything was possible: if they burst out in sudden violence now, they would surely get the Dragoon and the soldiers by surprise, and maybe, they could rescue this man from their clutches. But on the other hand, they had a mission, and not only would they endanger their own lives, but the ritual of how to destroy the amphora could stay unknown for too long, until the servants of the Serpentmother would get a hold of the terrible artifact again...
The moment passed, and Torn said: „Yes, of course, sir“. Jan didn’t object and hung his head to hide his shame and anger, and the moment of choice had passed. There was nothing they could do.
„Very well, then“, the Colonel said, his smirk resounding in his haughty voice: „I will have to ask you to accompany us briefly. We need merely take him back to the site of his crime, so he may be judged. If you are actually his accomplices, we will find out, and you will be dealt with. If however, you are truly innocent travelers who just stumbled over him, you are of course free to go.“
Gihjan gestured his soldiers and immediately, they surrounded the adventurers. There was nothing for them to do but go with the soldiers. Fortunately, it was merely a two miles march and then they found themselves in an open pasture in the middle of a field of wheat. Gathered around, there were ten more soldiers, and about a dozen men, women and children who were dressed in the simple garbs of serfs.
One of the families was shackled together at the ankles and in the middle of the pasture there was a wooden framework in the middle of the pasture with a pair of manacles hanging from the crossbar at the top. Before the friends could take in the entire scene, however, two soldiers had already taken the runaway soldier and after having dragged him to the structure, they chained him to the structure.
The soldiers were taking their time, while Colonel Gihjan orchestrated their work, and one of the soldiers who was watching over the group stepped up between Torn and Jan. Looking straight ahead past them to the frame, he asked with a hushed voice: „How did you poor devils get caught up in this?“.
Torn and Jan turned to him shortly: the soldier had the olive skin of the south combined with the stocky frame of the Kelders, and even though he seemed to be not much older than they were, his brown eyes looked tired and world-weary. Turning his head back to the scene of how the man they had met just an hour ago was manacled to the frame, Torn said: „We were travelling to Durm when he stumbled over us and broke down the moment he saw us. What is going on here?“
The soldier stared forwards, and hardly moving his lips, he said: „The people here have been gathered for one of the Colonel’s lessons in obedience, as he calls it. The old man in the middle of that chained family said something to the Colonel. I wasn’t able to hear what it was, but the Colonel didn’t like it. No, not at all.“
The two soldiers had the semi-concious man hanging in the manacles now, but for some reason Colonel Gihjan didn’t like it. He scolded one of the soldiers with cold fury in his eyes, his voice too low for the friends to hear, and the men hastily opened the shackles again, hurridly trying to fixate the man in a way that would please their superiors.
Meanwhile, the soldier who had been talking to Jan and Torn, though the other three were close enough to listen as well, continued: „ So he starts whipping them for minutes, and after the poor sod’s back was crisscrossed with bleeding stains, the girl steps in and insults the Colonel, calling him something you never want to call a Dragoon. He was furious and so he...“
The soldier swallowed drily, and then went on: „He ordered the nearest soldier to rape the girl, in front of her father, and then slit her throat. The soldier was Zedris... You met him...
„Anyway, I have seen many things in battle, but this? This is not what I signed up for, and neither did Zedris. He couldn’t bring himself to do it, so he ran... And now he is back here, poor bugger. Let’s just hope he will get a quick death.“.
By now, Gihjan and the soldiers were done tying Zedris to the frame, and they stepped back from the frame. Zedris was hanging spread-eagled, suspended by his wrists while his legs were tied to the side-beams of the frame and there was already blood running down fromt where the manacles were cutting into his arms.
Colonel Gihjan positioned himself in the middle of the pasture, where he waited until he was sure that he had the attention of all villagers, soldiers and foreigners: „This“, he announced with a booming voice, „is the fate of all traitors to Duke Traviak and the chain of command!“
He turned to the shackled family: „You people drew the rightful wrath of the Black Dragoon. I am within my rights to execute you all along with the traitor.“
„However“, he continued after a small pause, „I am prepared to grant mercy to you. After all, in a way, I have to be thankful to you: Unwittingly you have exposed a much more dangerous criminal in my own ranks by your actions.“
Still staring at them with his menacing dark eyes, he gestured with a black-gauntleted hand, which prompted nearby soldiers to remove the family’s manacles. Then, with another gesture he summoned other soldiers which brought in three wheelbarrows full of stones and heavy branches, which they put in front of the dazed family.
Turning his back to the family, Colonel Gihjan adressed the rest of the crowd: „The sentence for treason is death.“
Then, he suddenly spinned around, and now he was staring at the family again: „You may now prove your loyalty to Duke Traviak and your own sentence shall be deferred.“.
For a few seconds, nothing happened, and the pasture was absolutely silent. Then, the man who had been whipped by Colonel Gihjan, his daughter who had almost been raped and murdered and all the other members of the family picked up sticks and stones...
They didn’t have the heart to use all their force against Zedris, and thus it took them minutes which felt like hours to kill the very man who couldn’t bring himself to harm them. Meanwhile, tears of rage were burning in the eyes of the friends. There was nothing they could do but watch- they knew that even if not all of the soldiers approved of their colonel’s behaviour, they would immediately attack them should they try to interfere.
So, as Zedris was slowly being killed and his cries of pain and agony were reaching out for heaven, the friends could just as well have been chained to the ground, and each of them knew that no matter what else was going to happen in their further lives, these moments would haunt them in their nightmares forever.
When it was over, Colonel Gihjan instructed the peasants to not take off the corpse of the deserteur from the frame until it had been picked clean by the birds, and then, when they were gone, he went over to instruct his soldiers about future operations.
Not being dismissed, the friends waited, until, almost as if in an afterthought, the Colonel turned to them: „Oh, Zedris confirmed that you were chance encounters. You are free to go“. And with that, they were already gone and away for all that he could care.
Silent, the friends moved on. Soon, the sun set, and they set up a silent camp, all of them too consumed by their own thoughts to talk much. They had seen that the divine folks didn’t necessarily act less wickedly and cruelly than any titanspawn, and their journey through these lands of worshippers of the tyrant god was far from over just yet...
Lars Frehse
First Post
Oh, they were. This was really one of the best parts of the adventure, and I hope we will get to my other favorite part this sunday. (I am one week behind right now).
And regarding that other part: Shadow, I will tell you then, which part I mean. You probably know which one I mean: a rather innovative thing I hadn't seen anywhere else before. But: hush! Don't say it! At least one of my players is reading that, so we don't want to spoil the surprise!
There is one thing I would like to say about this next update: Usually a chapter starts at the beginning of one session and end with the end of a session. This time, however, Jan had risen in level at the end of the session, so we had played a little more in order to integrate something pretty important for him. However, I wanted the other chapter to end with the execution, so this time, the chapter starts with something that had actually had happened at the end of the session before, after EPs had been distributed.
Enjoy!
And regarding that other part: Shadow, I will tell you then, which part I mean. You probably know which one I mean: a rather innovative thing I hadn't seen anywhere else before. But: hush! Don't say it! At least one of my players is reading that, so we don't want to spoil the surprise!
There is one thing I would like to say about this next update: Usually a chapter starts at the beginning of one session and end with the end of a session. This time, however, Jan had risen in level at the end of the session, so we had played a little more in order to integrate something pretty important for him. However, I wanted the other chapter to end with the execution, so this time, the chapter starts with something that had actually had happened at the end of the session before, after EPs had been distributed.
Enjoy!
Lars Frehse
First Post
An audience with the archfiend part 1
The next morning, Jan was woken up by a strange sensation: something wet was touching his face again and again. Resistant to open his eyes just yet, and vaguely guessing that one of his friends was playing a practical joke that had something to do with a wet towel on him, he turned around but the sensation remained.
He opened his eyes, and there, right in front of his face, in the middle of a wheat field that was still moist with the morning dew, there was the face of a horse staring back at him and apparently it’s slightly wet nose had caused the sensation that woke him. Fully awake all of a sudden, he got himself up in a sitting position, and the horse stepped back two steps, still eyeing him.
There was gray dust of the road on the horse which seemed to be of perfect white beneath the dirt, and even though as big as a warhorse it looked too thin, as if it hadn’t been fed well enough. There were the tell tale marks of a yoke around it’s neck and there were freshly healed scars on it’s flanks, showing that it had been frequently whipped in the past.
Jan got up. The horse seemed very young and it’s eyes were full of wisdom and intelligence. He gently caressed the horse’s forehead with his right hand, and as he removed the dirt, he saw it: A silvery mark in the form of the eight swords of Corean on the horse’s forehead, and it shimmered so brightly in the morning light, that it almost looked as if the hair was made of silver.
For a moment, he was tossed back into his peaceful and pleasant childhood. Then, his favorite bedtime story had been the story of Permenthes, and so often did he make his father or his mother tell it to him, that Niklas, who slept in one bed with him, had gotten tired and even annoyed with it after having it heard over and over again.
Long before the Titanswar, Permenthes had been a Paladin of Corean, who, after having commited many noble deeds for Corean, he raised a temple in his name. However, so eager was he to raise this temple, that he completely ignored the needs of the people who worked on it. One day, a man too old and feeble to work on the temple came to Permenthes, asking for shelter, but Permenthes merely cursed the man for not working on the temple.
Then, Corean dropped the disguise, and Permenthes was shocked, as he realized how pride and ambition had pushed him onto a path that was against the ideals of his god. Corean cursed him, and turned Permenthes into a horse, so that he should learn humilty.
But Permenthes, having learned his lesson and accepting the judgement of the great champion, continued to serve Corean as good as he could. He wandered the lands and helped the servants of Corean as a mount, fought the enemies of his god, and even when he saw farmers who could need a strong steed to pull the plow, he wasn’t above doing that.
Then, one day, he walked through badlands, where he came upon a deserted village. There he was attacked by an old woman with a pitchfork, whom he smote to the ground. Now, the old Permenthes would have killed the woman who had dared attack him, but now, he paused, and so he found out that the reason the woman had attacked him was that she was merely trying to feed her starving family.
He offered her to lead her out of the wasteland, and after having drawn the family on a rickety wagon to the plains, he stopped and contemplated the situation. He saw that they were safe, but without food they wouldn’t make it to the nearest settlement, and so he told them to kill and eat him in order to survive. The family did so with a heavy heart and survived, and the old woman prayed for Corean to forgive his cursed son.
Permenthes soul travelled to heaven, and having redeemed himself in the eyes of the Avenger, Corean offered him former position of glory. But Permenthes refused, asking only to continue to serve as he had done for so long now. And so he returned, in the form of a warhorse, serving as the herald of Corean.
Ever since, he had given birth to a new line of horses: the coreanic steeds: noble horses filled with the spirit of their ancestor who served Paladins who had proven that they were worthy of their service. And here, in front of Jan, in the middle of the cursed lands of the followers of the slave-driver, one such coreanic steed had found and chosen him.
He couldn’t remember a happier moment. All the horrors of the last day were wiped from his mind as he first embraced his new companion and then began to concentrate on taking care of it’s fur, watched by his puzzled friends, who had only now gotten up.
They marched and rode on and Jan was too focused on his newfound friend to notice much of the other things around him. Then, on the next day, as they were moving a long the road to Durm in a constant rain, they ran into Colonel Gihjan again, this time only with two soldiers. For a moment, they thought of attacking him, but seeing how they were already so unusual looking that most peasants which had seen them would remember them, they didn’t take the risk. And so, they simply waited on the side of the road as he and his guards rode past them in the rain.
Except for one further incident, the journey to Durm remained uneventful. For all the terror Lageni spread in the neighboring countries, it was almost boring within. So they were almost happy to see a diversion on the road in form of a single woman- the road had been far from empty, but a blackhaired beauty like her was sure to raise a smile from most of the men. She was dressed in a well worn leather armor, and there was a light mace hanging from her belt and she wore her beautiful hair in a single long braid.
As she passed the party, she nodded a polite greeting, and then stopped, staring above and beyond them: „Odd. Those are northern crows that live around here are much larger, with more of a curse to the beak. I wonder what they are doing this far south?“.
The men turned to look, and seeing that the crows were still far too far away for her to possibly see so much detail, they turned back, but she was gone. Checking the ground, they saw that her tracks had vanished, too, and all Ben found with his wolflike sense of smell was the lingering smell of sandlewood.
„Now, what was that all about?“, Trepat asked, voicing what they all were thinking.
The next morning, Jan was woken up by a strange sensation: something wet was touching his face again and again. Resistant to open his eyes just yet, and vaguely guessing that one of his friends was playing a practical joke that had something to do with a wet towel on him, he turned around but the sensation remained.
He opened his eyes, and there, right in front of his face, in the middle of a wheat field that was still moist with the morning dew, there was the face of a horse staring back at him and apparently it’s slightly wet nose had caused the sensation that woke him. Fully awake all of a sudden, he got himself up in a sitting position, and the horse stepped back two steps, still eyeing him.
There was gray dust of the road on the horse which seemed to be of perfect white beneath the dirt, and even though as big as a warhorse it looked too thin, as if it hadn’t been fed well enough. There were the tell tale marks of a yoke around it’s neck and there were freshly healed scars on it’s flanks, showing that it had been frequently whipped in the past.
Jan got up. The horse seemed very young and it’s eyes were full of wisdom and intelligence. He gently caressed the horse’s forehead with his right hand, and as he removed the dirt, he saw it: A silvery mark in the form of the eight swords of Corean on the horse’s forehead, and it shimmered so brightly in the morning light, that it almost looked as if the hair was made of silver.
For a moment, he was tossed back into his peaceful and pleasant childhood. Then, his favorite bedtime story had been the story of Permenthes, and so often did he make his father or his mother tell it to him, that Niklas, who slept in one bed with him, had gotten tired and even annoyed with it after having it heard over and over again.
Long before the Titanswar, Permenthes had been a Paladin of Corean, who, after having commited many noble deeds for Corean, he raised a temple in his name. However, so eager was he to raise this temple, that he completely ignored the needs of the people who worked on it. One day, a man too old and feeble to work on the temple came to Permenthes, asking for shelter, but Permenthes merely cursed the man for not working on the temple.
Then, Corean dropped the disguise, and Permenthes was shocked, as he realized how pride and ambition had pushed him onto a path that was against the ideals of his god. Corean cursed him, and turned Permenthes into a horse, so that he should learn humilty.
But Permenthes, having learned his lesson and accepting the judgement of the great champion, continued to serve Corean as good as he could. He wandered the lands and helped the servants of Corean as a mount, fought the enemies of his god, and even when he saw farmers who could need a strong steed to pull the plow, he wasn’t above doing that.
Then, one day, he walked through badlands, where he came upon a deserted village. There he was attacked by an old woman with a pitchfork, whom he smote to the ground. Now, the old Permenthes would have killed the woman who had dared attack him, but now, he paused, and so he found out that the reason the woman had attacked him was that she was merely trying to feed her starving family.
He offered her to lead her out of the wasteland, and after having drawn the family on a rickety wagon to the plains, he stopped and contemplated the situation. He saw that they were safe, but without food they wouldn’t make it to the nearest settlement, and so he told them to kill and eat him in order to survive. The family did so with a heavy heart and survived, and the old woman prayed for Corean to forgive his cursed son.
Permenthes soul travelled to heaven, and having redeemed himself in the eyes of the Avenger, Corean offered him former position of glory. But Permenthes refused, asking only to continue to serve as he had done for so long now. And so he returned, in the form of a warhorse, serving as the herald of Corean.
Ever since, he had given birth to a new line of horses: the coreanic steeds: noble horses filled with the spirit of their ancestor who served Paladins who had proven that they were worthy of their service. And here, in front of Jan, in the middle of the cursed lands of the followers of the slave-driver, one such coreanic steed had found and chosen him.
He couldn’t remember a happier moment. All the horrors of the last day were wiped from his mind as he first embraced his new companion and then began to concentrate on taking care of it’s fur, watched by his puzzled friends, who had only now gotten up.
They marched and rode on and Jan was too focused on his newfound friend to notice much of the other things around him. Then, on the next day, as they were moving a long the road to Durm in a constant rain, they ran into Colonel Gihjan again, this time only with two soldiers. For a moment, they thought of attacking him, but seeing how they were already so unusual looking that most peasants which had seen them would remember them, they didn’t take the risk. And so, they simply waited on the side of the road as he and his guards rode past them in the rain.
Except for one further incident, the journey to Durm remained uneventful. For all the terror Lageni spread in the neighboring countries, it was almost boring within. So they were almost happy to see a diversion on the road in form of a single woman- the road had been far from empty, but a blackhaired beauty like her was sure to raise a smile from most of the men. She was dressed in a well worn leather armor, and there was a light mace hanging from her belt and she wore her beautiful hair in a single long braid.
As she passed the party, she nodded a polite greeting, and then stopped, staring above and beyond them: „Odd. Those are northern crows that live around here are much larger, with more of a curse to the beak. I wonder what they are doing this far south?“.
The men turned to look, and seeing that the crows were still far too far away for her to possibly see so much detail, they turned back, but she was gone. Checking the ground, they saw that her tracks had vanished, too, and all Ben found with his wolflike sense of smell was the lingering smell of sandlewood.
„Now, what was that all about?“, Trepat asked, voicing what they all were thinking.
Nightfall
Sage of the Scarred Lands
Two cool things I must admit. One, Jan got a Coreanic Steed. (BIG plus! Probably one of my favorite mounts and I'm glad Jan was worth of such a deed. And gaining a level rocked too. 
) Two, that encounter with the Lady...mm well I can't wait to see what part Illthusa(sp) plays in the final chapter. (Willing to bet it's a signficiant one.)
) Two, that encounter with the Lady...mm well I can't wait to see what part Illthusa(sp) plays in the final chapter. (Willing to bet it's a signficiant one.)
Nightfall
Sage of the Scarred Lands
Lars Frehse said:Oh, they were. This was really one of the best parts of the adventure, and I hope we will get to my other favorite part this sunday. (I am one week behind right now).
And regarding that other part: Shadow, I will tell you then, which part I mean. You probably know which one I mean: a rather innovative thing I hadn't seen anywhere else before. But: hush! Don't say it! At least one of my players is reading that, so we don't want to spoil the surprise!
Personally I hope you use the Archfiend after the Cycle is done. He's a really interesting character AND make a great foe for the party.
Lars Frehse
First Post
An audience with the archfiend- part 2
In the evening, they reached Durm, where Lagenian noblemen paraded the cobbled streets with their halfling-slaves in tow and where gas-lanterns where keeping the streets light and safe well into the night. Soldiers were patrolling the streets, and here, along the main road, all they could see were signs of prosperity and strength.
They slept in an inn, and then climbed the hill to Castle Durm, where they had to wait in a queue well into the afternoon. Then, after stating that they wanted to see the archfiend, they were ushered to a building within the fortress’s wall, which seemed indistinguishable for the other buildings within the concept except for the graving of the warsceptre of Chardun engraved in it’s doors.
As they approached the gate, they were ushered in by young priests of Chardun, who told them that the service was just about to begin. Inside, there was one massice chamber, with hard stone benches and a raised altar with a fireplace burning behind it. Weapons of all sorts and tapestries depicting Chardun battling all kinds of foes were hanging from the front wall, and there were about 150 people in the church, leaving about one third of the seats empty.
Feeling slightly uncomfortable among the devout followers of the Great Slaver, they sat down in the back of the hall, as a man stepped up to the altar. He was a broad shouldered, scarred man in his forties with a wild read beard and the top-knot of a warrior. This, wearing the black platemail of the dragoons with a white vestment that was stained bloodred at the bottom, was Archfiend Fiarun, the man they had come to see.
After one long look at his congregation, one hand resting on his huge battlemace which was hanging on his side, he raised his other hand and began his sermon:
“Greetings!
Again we have gathered here to praise our lord and show him that our hearts are pure and that we, his faithful, will happily continue to serve him, no matter what shall happen!
Chardun is our lord, and King Virduk and Archduke Traviak are his most loved servants on our world. Chardun is the one who gives us power and instills our hearts and arms with the force we need to smite our foes.
And truly: Now, more then ever, we are in need of his strength! Now that we are beset by the selfish and unbelieving from all sides! Even now, as I speak to you, they plan our downfall and try to strangle us with their plots and viciousness!
Without the strength of Chardun, and the strength of heart to fight relentlessly against our enemy we will give them the breathing-space to throw a web of intrigue and hatred over us, in which we would be caught like helpless salmons caught by a fisherman. Sure: We may not fall today. Maybe not even next year. But eventually, we will: And the ones who will suffer the most are those who can't defend themselves: Our children!
I am telling you: those who don’t want to be merciless against our foes now, those, who speak of peace, those, who think that we can live on friendly terms with the people of Durrover, Burok Torn, and our many other enemies, those are the ones who ultimately want our downfall. After all, there is only one thing that makes the dwarves and their half-human cousins carry on their futile and stubborn battle against us: it is their deep and ingrained hatred of us! They hate everything we stand for and everything we believe in. For them, peace and respect is not an option! They don’t even have a word for „respect“ in their languages!
Instead, they continue to fight, and while they could have long ago given peace to the world by surrendering to our terms, they are wasting the lives of many good soldiers and innocents with their stupid pride and destructive stubbornness! And because their mindless hatred of our superior ways and superior beliefs has cost so many lives already, we shall not falter and let up until they are defeated and the unneccesary bloodshed will end! After all, we are serving him who had defeated many titans with his own very own hand, and we shall continue his struggle against chaos and disorder.
For what is this freedom our enemies seek? It is the freedom to live up any twisted and perverted act their sick minds would fancy! It is the freedom to let the threat of the titanspawn spread again! It is the freedom to abuse and even persecute the faithful of Chardun! It is the freedom to destroy and subvert everything Calastia and Lageni had built up and defended vigilantly until this very day and in all eternity.
I ask you: Is this the freedom that we want?“
He paused for a moment, and the crowd, already agitated and excited, roared back at their leader, their master, and their voices were melting together into one deafening roar that left no space for second thoughts or doubts:“ NOOOO!“
The speech continued like that for another two hours. Archfiend Fiarun mostly concentrated on the need to grow strong in order to rule over the weak and the duty that the strong had to rule over those who were below him. He was a gifted orator, but still the friends saw that Fiarun was twisting every concept of what was good, right and true. What he was teaching was embracing evil and violence with the goal to fight evil and violence. He was skilled enough to make those who wanted peace look evil while the ones who pushed for war at any price were heroic.
Listening to him, you could almost believe that it was really Calastia and Lageni who were pushing for peace and order, while nations like Vesh, Burok Torn and the Knights of Mithril were basically throwing Ghelspad into chaos. Fortunately, the worshippers were too caught up with the speech to notice the friends’ lack of enthusiasm.
When it was over, they were granted an audience by the archfiend. Seeing no alternative, they told him the truth, that they were sent to find the ritual to destroy an artifact that had the essence of Mormo in it.
Fiarun told them about a wizard and priest who had indeed developed such a ritual, and upon his death he had risen from the grave and enslaved the people of several nearby villages to engrave this ritual and others into the walls of his tomb. As the archfiend told this grisly story he got excited by his admiration for this kind of strength of will, but suddenly stopped: „No. No! No, I will not have the tomb of one of our greatest sages and most learned saints defiled by a band of nonbelievers! Not even to destroy one of the Bitch Queen’s relics. I am sorry, but you will have to find another way.“.
Torn tried to convince the archfiend of the urgency of their mission, but the Archfiend interrupted him with a wave of his hand: „Enough. Unless you swear fealty to Chardun and learn his ways, it can’t be gone.“.
Staring at each of them menacingly for a moment, he continued: „That doesn’t seem to be the case. Be gone now.“.
All of them heard the threats in the evil priest’s voice, and so they left the temple. Outside as they were briskly walking to the gate of the fortress Torn said: „You guys noticed it too, didn’t you?“
“Yes, he slipped up and mentioned the name of one of the villages“, Jan answered „did you catch it.“.
„I got it“, Niklas said after they had silently went through the gate and out of earshot of the guards: „Vauldell.“.
In the evening, they reached Durm, where Lagenian noblemen paraded the cobbled streets with their halfling-slaves in tow and where gas-lanterns where keeping the streets light and safe well into the night. Soldiers were patrolling the streets, and here, along the main road, all they could see were signs of prosperity and strength.
They slept in an inn, and then climbed the hill to Castle Durm, where they had to wait in a queue well into the afternoon. Then, after stating that they wanted to see the archfiend, they were ushered to a building within the fortress’s wall, which seemed indistinguishable for the other buildings within the concept except for the graving of the warsceptre of Chardun engraved in it’s doors.
As they approached the gate, they were ushered in by young priests of Chardun, who told them that the service was just about to begin. Inside, there was one massice chamber, with hard stone benches and a raised altar with a fireplace burning behind it. Weapons of all sorts and tapestries depicting Chardun battling all kinds of foes were hanging from the front wall, and there were about 150 people in the church, leaving about one third of the seats empty.
Feeling slightly uncomfortable among the devout followers of the Great Slaver, they sat down in the back of the hall, as a man stepped up to the altar. He was a broad shouldered, scarred man in his forties with a wild read beard and the top-knot of a warrior. This, wearing the black platemail of the dragoons with a white vestment that was stained bloodred at the bottom, was Archfiend Fiarun, the man they had come to see.
After one long look at his congregation, one hand resting on his huge battlemace which was hanging on his side, he raised his other hand and began his sermon:
“Greetings!
Again we have gathered here to praise our lord and show him that our hearts are pure and that we, his faithful, will happily continue to serve him, no matter what shall happen!
Chardun is our lord, and King Virduk and Archduke Traviak are his most loved servants on our world. Chardun is the one who gives us power and instills our hearts and arms with the force we need to smite our foes.
And truly: Now, more then ever, we are in need of his strength! Now that we are beset by the selfish and unbelieving from all sides! Even now, as I speak to you, they plan our downfall and try to strangle us with their plots and viciousness!
Without the strength of Chardun, and the strength of heart to fight relentlessly against our enemy we will give them the breathing-space to throw a web of intrigue and hatred over us, in which we would be caught like helpless salmons caught by a fisherman. Sure: We may not fall today. Maybe not even next year. But eventually, we will: And the ones who will suffer the most are those who can't defend themselves: Our children!
I am telling you: those who don’t want to be merciless against our foes now, those, who speak of peace, those, who think that we can live on friendly terms with the people of Durrover, Burok Torn, and our many other enemies, those are the ones who ultimately want our downfall. After all, there is only one thing that makes the dwarves and their half-human cousins carry on their futile and stubborn battle against us: it is their deep and ingrained hatred of us! They hate everything we stand for and everything we believe in. For them, peace and respect is not an option! They don’t even have a word for „respect“ in their languages!
Instead, they continue to fight, and while they could have long ago given peace to the world by surrendering to our terms, they are wasting the lives of many good soldiers and innocents with their stupid pride and destructive stubbornness! And because their mindless hatred of our superior ways and superior beliefs has cost so many lives already, we shall not falter and let up until they are defeated and the unneccesary bloodshed will end! After all, we are serving him who had defeated many titans with his own very own hand, and we shall continue his struggle against chaos and disorder.
For what is this freedom our enemies seek? It is the freedom to live up any twisted and perverted act their sick minds would fancy! It is the freedom to let the threat of the titanspawn spread again! It is the freedom to abuse and even persecute the faithful of Chardun! It is the freedom to destroy and subvert everything Calastia and Lageni had built up and defended vigilantly until this very day and in all eternity.
I ask you: Is this the freedom that we want?“
He paused for a moment, and the crowd, already agitated and excited, roared back at their leader, their master, and their voices were melting together into one deafening roar that left no space for second thoughts or doubts:“ NOOOO!“
The speech continued like that for another two hours. Archfiend Fiarun mostly concentrated on the need to grow strong in order to rule over the weak and the duty that the strong had to rule over those who were below him. He was a gifted orator, but still the friends saw that Fiarun was twisting every concept of what was good, right and true. What he was teaching was embracing evil and violence with the goal to fight evil and violence. He was skilled enough to make those who wanted peace look evil while the ones who pushed for war at any price were heroic.
Listening to him, you could almost believe that it was really Calastia and Lageni who were pushing for peace and order, while nations like Vesh, Burok Torn and the Knights of Mithril were basically throwing Ghelspad into chaos. Fortunately, the worshippers were too caught up with the speech to notice the friends’ lack of enthusiasm.
When it was over, they were granted an audience by the archfiend. Seeing no alternative, they told him the truth, that they were sent to find the ritual to destroy an artifact that had the essence of Mormo in it.
Fiarun told them about a wizard and priest who had indeed developed such a ritual, and upon his death he had risen from the grave and enslaved the people of several nearby villages to engrave this ritual and others into the walls of his tomb. As the archfiend told this grisly story he got excited by his admiration for this kind of strength of will, but suddenly stopped: „No. No! No, I will not have the tomb of one of our greatest sages and most learned saints defiled by a band of nonbelievers! Not even to destroy one of the Bitch Queen’s relics. I am sorry, but you will have to find another way.“.
Torn tried to convince the archfiend of the urgency of their mission, but the Archfiend interrupted him with a wave of his hand: „Enough. Unless you swear fealty to Chardun and learn his ways, it can’t be gone.“.
Staring at each of them menacingly for a moment, he continued: „That doesn’t seem to be the case. Be gone now.“.
All of them heard the threats in the evil priest’s voice, and so they left the temple. Outside as they were briskly walking to the gate of the fortress Torn said: „You guys noticed it too, didn’t you?“
“Yes, he slipped up and mentioned the name of one of the villages“, Jan answered „did you catch it.“.
„I got it“, Niklas said after they had silently went through the gate and out of earshot of the guards: „Vauldell.“.
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Lars Frehse
First Post
An audience with the archfiend- part 3 of 4
It took them most of the rest of the day to find a map with Vauldell in it, and after they had bought that one from a greasy trader, they left Durm without spending any moment longer there than necessary. Since it had taken them quite a while to even find a proper map and they didn’t want to stay in this Corean-forsaken town any minute longer than necessary, they didn’t even bother to haggle anymore, paying twice what it was worth.
Their journey to Vauldell took them northeastwards, well into the spread-out foothills of the Kelders. Throughout the trip it was raining in a slow but steady downpour, so that they were damp and wet all of the time. They were now closer to Oreirover than they had been ever since they had fled the assault of the Dragoons, and if it weren't for the almost impassable barrier posed by the Kelders, they could even reach it in just a few days.
On the evening of the third day, they found the town that the archfiend had mentioned. However, the term "town" was clearly an overstatement. There were only a few houses huddled around a small square, but the remaining foundations which were jutting out of the ground occasionally hinted at a much more populated past of the place. The way it looked, there had once been well over a hundred houses here, whereas now merely a dozen remained.
It appeared that after the village had lost a good part of it's population and the years went by, the remaining villagers had used the empty houses for the building material- walls between the fields, fortifying irrigation ditches or for repairs of their own homes. All in all it was a depressing place, and the lowhanging and opressive looking grey sky didn't do much to make it look any better.
On one muddy plot of land in front of the village, there seemed to be a single and lonely cemetary. There, in front of a fresh grave that was covered with flowers which were being washed out by the steady rain, they saw a single man in a wet, mudstained robe. He was praying, and only after Niklas cleared his throat, did he seem to notice the group of men behind him. He turned around, and they saw that he was an old grey-haired man who, to their surprise, wore the symbol of Hedrada.
"Welcome travellers! What brings you to our humble village?"
"We are just passing through", Niklas said.
"Well, you must certainly be on an unusual route to come through this forsaken place.", the priest answered, showing nothing but friendly curiosity."But forgive my lack of manners. I am just not used to making new acquaintances anymore! My name is Elam, and I am the priest of Vauldell, as we call our little place here.".
Torn introduced himself and his friends, and then, as if on second thought, he added:" And what has happened to this place? It looks like something bad has befallen it at some point".
"Ah, you saw the old foundations. Yes, you are right- something bad indeed had befallen this place. Many decades ago, when I was still a young lad who was just about to turn into a man, we had been enslaved by a priest of Chardun who had returned from his grave.
"He forced his will on every single soul in the villages, be it man, woman, child or the old and weak. For a long time we worked on his tomb. I hardly remember anything from that time, it is all covered by a haze, but in the end, many of the workers had died from exhaustion. And among those who survived and returned to their villages and towns, most didn't stay for long- they left for other parts of the country, fearing that the fiend may come for them again. And so this once thriving town was deserted and we are now merely a poor little village of less than a hundred souls."
"Have you ever heard from that evil fiend again?", Jan asked.
"No, but about twenty years ago or so, a little group of adventurers asked for the way to the tomb. Apparently they were graverobbers, or something foolheartedly like that. I told them the way, and they never returned. But, see, it is getting dark and we are all wet. If you like, I will speak to some of the villagers for you so that you can get a place to sleep at.".
The next morning, after having gotten breakfast from overjoyed villagers, for whom the silver and gold the friends had given them were real treasures, they met on the townsquare. At last, the rain had stopped and the sun was now shining with all it's glory and reflecting a hundredfold in every small dirty puddle. After a quick exchange, they decided to tell the priest what they had come for. This looked like the best way to have him tell them where the tomb was.
They walked to his house, which was just a little bit bigger than the other buildings in the villages, and had the scales of Hedrada over it's doorway. After knocking and seeing that he wasn't in it, they went around it, and there in a small herbal garden, he was kneeling in the dirt and taking care of his plants.
Ben took a quick glance and saw that Elam was mostly growing medicinal herbs. They greeted the priest and thanked him for getting a place to sleep for them, and then they told him the truth about what had brought them here. He listened intently, and after warning them about the dangers that would certainly wait for them in the tomb, he told them how to get there.
Niklas, who felt with this man who was clearly trying to live a good life caring for his fellow villagers in this evil land handed him a bag with twohundred pieces of gold. It took some prodding, but ultimately, Elam accepted the gift: this was enough to buy enough grain and other needed things for the village to make it through an entire season, should they have bad luck with farming or if some other misfortune should happen to them.
He blessed them and they left, following the instruction the priest had given them. Around noon, they reached the valley he had described to them: a wooded, circular area free of hills, with only one hill that was topped with a crown of rock in the middle of it. The valley was rather peaceul, and the biggest living creature they encountered was an excited squirrel that ran up it's tree as the friends turned around a corner.
They climbed up the hill and the ledge of which the friendly priest had told them, but as they reached the plateau with the entrance, they stopped dead in their tracks. There, strewn all over the rock, they saw the remnants of several skeletons. Trepat knelt down, and looking at the remnants of the skeletons:"The battle happened days, maybe just hours ago. They have already been skeletons when they were battling..."
He went over to one skeleton that had it's bones connected by vines:" It looks like a bunch of the skeletons here were of the variety we had encountered on the day before we met the Taurosphinx. As weird as it may sound, they seem to have wiped out each other!".
"Strange", Niklas said:"Can you find any other tracks?"
"Yes, here. One humanoid, rather small. An elf, maybe or a human woman. And it looks like these tracks lead nowwhere, but rather disappeared here in the middle of the ledge.".
"Let me take a sniff at this", Ben said, putting on his wolf-skull. He went to the spot where the tracks disappeared and smelled the ground:" This smells like sandlewood. It is the same smell the woman who had pointed at the crows had left behind...".
It took them most of the rest of the day to find a map with Vauldell in it, and after they had bought that one from a greasy trader, they left Durm without spending any moment longer there than necessary. Since it had taken them quite a while to even find a proper map and they didn’t want to stay in this Corean-forsaken town any minute longer than necessary, they didn’t even bother to haggle anymore, paying twice what it was worth.
Their journey to Vauldell took them northeastwards, well into the spread-out foothills of the Kelders. Throughout the trip it was raining in a slow but steady downpour, so that they were damp and wet all of the time. They were now closer to Oreirover than they had been ever since they had fled the assault of the Dragoons, and if it weren't for the almost impassable barrier posed by the Kelders, they could even reach it in just a few days.
On the evening of the third day, they found the town that the archfiend had mentioned. However, the term "town" was clearly an overstatement. There were only a few houses huddled around a small square, but the remaining foundations which were jutting out of the ground occasionally hinted at a much more populated past of the place. The way it looked, there had once been well over a hundred houses here, whereas now merely a dozen remained.
It appeared that after the village had lost a good part of it's population and the years went by, the remaining villagers had used the empty houses for the building material- walls between the fields, fortifying irrigation ditches or for repairs of their own homes. All in all it was a depressing place, and the lowhanging and opressive looking grey sky didn't do much to make it look any better.
On one muddy plot of land in front of the village, there seemed to be a single and lonely cemetary. There, in front of a fresh grave that was covered with flowers which were being washed out by the steady rain, they saw a single man in a wet, mudstained robe. He was praying, and only after Niklas cleared his throat, did he seem to notice the group of men behind him. He turned around, and they saw that he was an old grey-haired man who, to their surprise, wore the symbol of Hedrada.
"Welcome travellers! What brings you to our humble village?"
"We are just passing through", Niklas said.
"Well, you must certainly be on an unusual route to come through this forsaken place.", the priest answered, showing nothing but friendly curiosity."But forgive my lack of manners. I am just not used to making new acquaintances anymore! My name is Elam, and I am the priest of Vauldell, as we call our little place here.".
Torn introduced himself and his friends, and then, as if on second thought, he added:" And what has happened to this place? It looks like something bad has befallen it at some point".
"Ah, you saw the old foundations. Yes, you are right- something bad indeed had befallen this place. Many decades ago, when I was still a young lad who was just about to turn into a man, we had been enslaved by a priest of Chardun who had returned from his grave.
"He forced his will on every single soul in the villages, be it man, woman, child or the old and weak. For a long time we worked on his tomb. I hardly remember anything from that time, it is all covered by a haze, but in the end, many of the workers had died from exhaustion. And among those who survived and returned to their villages and towns, most didn't stay for long- they left for other parts of the country, fearing that the fiend may come for them again. And so this once thriving town was deserted and we are now merely a poor little village of less than a hundred souls."
"Have you ever heard from that evil fiend again?", Jan asked.
"No, but about twenty years ago or so, a little group of adventurers asked for the way to the tomb. Apparently they were graverobbers, or something foolheartedly like that. I told them the way, and they never returned. But, see, it is getting dark and we are all wet. If you like, I will speak to some of the villagers for you so that you can get a place to sleep at.".
The next morning, after having gotten breakfast from overjoyed villagers, for whom the silver and gold the friends had given them were real treasures, they met on the townsquare. At last, the rain had stopped and the sun was now shining with all it's glory and reflecting a hundredfold in every small dirty puddle. After a quick exchange, they decided to tell the priest what they had come for. This looked like the best way to have him tell them where the tomb was.
They walked to his house, which was just a little bit bigger than the other buildings in the villages, and had the scales of Hedrada over it's doorway. After knocking and seeing that he wasn't in it, they went around it, and there in a small herbal garden, he was kneeling in the dirt and taking care of his plants.
Ben took a quick glance and saw that Elam was mostly growing medicinal herbs. They greeted the priest and thanked him for getting a place to sleep for them, and then they told him the truth about what had brought them here. He listened intently, and after warning them about the dangers that would certainly wait for them in the tomb, he told them how to get there.
Niklas, who felt with this man who was clearly trying to live a good life caring for his fellow villagers in this evil land handed him a bag with twohundred pieces of gold. It took some prodding, but ultimately, Elam accepted the gift: this was enough to buy enough grain and other needed things for the village to make it through an entire season, should they have bad luck with farming or if some other misfortune should happen to them.
He blessed them and they left, following the instruction the priest had given them. Around noon, they reached the valley he had described to them: a wooded, circular area free of hills, with only one hill that was topped with a crown of rock in the middle of it. The valley was rather peaceul, and the biggest living creature they encountered was an excited squirrel that ran up it's tree as the friends turned around a corner.
They climbed up the hill and the ledge of which the friendly priest had told them, but as they reached the plateau with the entrance, they stopped dead in their tracks. There, strewn all over the rock, they saw the remnants of several skeletons. Trepat knelt down, and looking at the remnants of the skeletons:"The battle happened days, maybe just hours ago. They have already been skeletons when they were battling..."
He went over to one skeleton that had it's bones connected by vines:" It looks like a bunch of the skeletons here were of the variety we had encountered on the day before we met the Taurosphinx. As weird as it may sound, they seem to have wiped out each other!".
"Strange", Niklas said:"Can you find any other tracks?"
"Yes, here. One humanoid, rather small. An elf, maybe or a human woman. And it looks like these tracks lead nowwhere, but rather disappeared here in the middle of the ledge.".
"Let me take a sniff at this", Ben said, putting on his wolf-skull. He went to the spot where the tracks disappeared and smelled the ground:" This smells like sandlewood. It is the same smell the woman who had pointed at the crows had left behind...".
Last edited:
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