Ghostknight
First Post
Hmm, should be fun. I enjoyed these player manipulating mind .... (beware Eric's grandma) so to see if the others are in a similart vein 
The Doomed Bastards: Reckoning (story complete)
- Thread starter Lazybones
- Start date
Lazybones
Adventurer
Thanks for the posts, Ghostknight. Hope you enjoy the other tales.
* * * * *
Chapter 112
MORE UNFINISHED BUSINESS
Dar returned to the end of the bed. He drew aside the coverlet, revealing his weapons, each laid out carefully. In addition to his trusty metal-shod club, there was his magical punching dagger, an extra mundane dagger, a new masterwork longbow, and his magical quiver, stuffed with hundreds of arrows. Each had been thoroughly cleaned and repaired as needed, ready to be used to deal out destruction. He’d lost Valus’s heavy shield in their final escape from the dungeon, but the cleric’s plate armor was in the second pack, carefully disassembled for travel. He’d learned that the value of his magical gear made him a rich man, exclusive of the hard coin and other valuables he’d kept from their latest excursion to Rappan Athuk. There were many other places he could go, places where a man like him could be what he was. Places where he’d fit in perfectly, where things would make sense.
Distracted, it took him a moment to realize that he was not alone. Putting his punching dagger back down on the bed, his hand drifted to the hilt of Valor.
“You don’t need that against me, Dar.”
Dar turned to see Velan Tiros standing in the doorway. “Come to get your sword back, marshal?”
Tiros came into the room, and shook his head. “No. It is yours now, clearly. It... suits you. I make no claim upon the weapon.”
“Good.”
“I saw Allera on my way in. She looked upset.”
“She’ll get over it,” Dar said, as he started sliding weapons into the loops on the outside of his packs. “What do you want, marshal?”
“Just to talk to you.”
“Well, make it quick. I’d like to be on a ship before nightfall.”
“Finally going to Drusia, as you’d said before?”
“I don’t know yet. Maybe.”
“Camar could still use your help.”
Dar snorted. “Camar has been anything but kind to me, marshal. Or should I say, ‘duke’?”
“I have never sought noble titles,” Tiros said. “The new High Council is still working out the details of official ranks and such, but I was thinking along the lines of ‘tribune,’ or something similar.”
“Power to the people, is that it?”
“Perhaps. It’s not perfect, but it’s better than what things were like under the Duke.”
“From what I hear, you’ve got a whole host of problems to deal with.”
Tiros nodded. “Dalemar to the north is under revolt. The Third Legion has gone over to the rebels.”
Dar looked surprised. “I hadn’t heard that. I mean, everyone’s heard about trouble to the north, but a full legion going over?”
“Don’t spread it around,” Tiros said. “The mood in the street is tenuous enough as it is.”
The fighter nodded. “So it’s civil war, then?”
“I hope it doesn’t come to that. We’re trying to set up negotiations with the rebels, but we’re also mobilizing the Second and Fourth Legions, if it comes to that. Camar can’t survive as a distinct state with an independent Dalemar on its northern border, and I think that the rebels know that.”
“Who’s in charge up there?”
“Kyros Livius.”
“Ah. He was commander of the Third when I was with the Fourth. He’s a prick, but I don’t think he is... well, he’s not the Duke, anyway. Might be he’d be willing to talk.”
“I hope so. We cannot afford another war right now.”
“What about the First?”
“Keeping them at Greathold, for now. Too many of its leaders were close with the Duke. Gaius Annochus does not believe that there are any more devils left in Camar, but they loyalties of the senior commanders have been made uncertain by what has happened. We may need to rebuild it from the ground up. Thankfully, the western border has been quiet.”
“I wouldn’t let your guard down, not with the elves. They’ve kept to the treaty, but they haven’t forgotten the past.”
“I understand that, believe me.”
There was a long silence between them. “What about Talen’s report?”
“I’ve spoken to him, and Varo. Talen’s presenting to the Council tomorrow, but Varo’s vanished again. That’s probably for the best.”
“Yeah, I don’t think that the Patriarch would be pleased to see him in the council chambers.”
“Varo knows that his presence is a liability to us, which is probably why he’s dropped out of sight.”
“If you think he isn’t planning something, you’re a fool.”
“I am not underestimating him,” Tiros said. “Talen told me what happened. In Rappan Athuk.”
“I suppose the question is, what are you going to do about it, marshal.”
“I don’t know what we can do, not until we’ve solidified things here in Camar.” The marshal paced around the far side of the bed. “We’ve hit the cult hard for what they did to Allera, but I’m not fool enough to think that we’re done with them, not by a long shot. We were thinking about pulling down the Border Legion from the Galerr Mountains, and repositioning them more to the east. The orcs haven’t ventured into the mountain passes in two generations, and...”
“Look, marshal, this isn’t my war. I never wanted any of it from the start.”
“We don’t always get to choose what battles we fight, warrior.”
“Yeah, but sometimes you get to choose which ones you get to walk away from, and you’re a fool if you don’t take that chance when it’s offered.”
“You know, probably better than anyone, what we’re up against. We’re stretched thin, Dar, no question about it. Which is why I could use you now, more than ever.”
Dar snorted. “One more sword isn’t going to make much of a difference.”
“I’m not asking for your sword.”
“If you’re asking what I think you’re asking, then you’re a bigger fool than I thought. I’ve told you before, I’m no leader.”
Tiros met Dar’s gaze, and held it. “I know you’ve had bad experiences with authority in the past, and your experiences with the legions was far from ideal. But we are entering a desperate time, Dar. Things do not have to be as they were in the past. You are your own man; I know that is important to you, is who you are. But consider also the value of being part of something larger than yourself. We are men, Dar, you and I. Our identity is created by what lies within us. But no man can stand alone. You served in combat, you know that this is true. When in the forging fires of battle, the man who is apart from his companion is quickly cut down in the surging tide, overwhelmed. So to it will be with Camar, I think.”
“You have mocked me in the past, warrior, and perhaps I deserved some of your calumny. There are things about you that I dislike greatly. But I have witnessed your mettle in the foulest pit known to man, in the desperate struggle for life and death, and I would stand by your side against any foe.”
“You can go to Drusia, or to the end of the world. But I don’t think you’ll find what you are looking for out there. It’s here, Dar... in the struggle to create something better than what came before. It’s in this that we find meaning for why we are here.”
Dar looked intently at Tiros for a long moment. Then he grinned broadly. “Damn, marshal, sometimes I forget how good you are at laying on the bull.”
“I meant what I said, every word.”
“I know. That’s what makes it so funny.”
Tiros’s face twisted into a wry smile. “Perhaps.” He walked past the bed toward the door, but he paused as he reached Dar. He put his hand on the warrior’s shoulder. “At least... think about what I have said.”
“If I do, I’ll know that I need a healer to have a look at my head,” Dar replied.
“Well then. I wish you well, warrior.” Tiros extended a hand. After a moment, Dar took it, gripping the marshal’s hand firmly.
“Good luck,” Dar said. “Sounds like you’ll need it.”
“I think we all will.”
With a final nod, Tiros released Dar’s hand and left, closing the door behind him.
Dar turned back and checked his gear a final time. Everything was in its place, but he hesitated.
For some reason, he looked down at his sword. Valor sat dormant in its scabbard. It was just a sword... but when he’d fought with it in Rappan Athuk, at times it had seemed that... what? This was crazy.
But as he gathered up his gear, he paused again. No, there was definitely something more to the blade than blue-forged steel. Both on the first trip to Rappan Athuk, when the sword had seemed to fight him every time he’d touched it, and on the second, when it fit into his hand like an extension of his arm, he’d felt a power deep within the weapon. When they had fought the servants of Orcus, in particular, the sword had seemed almost... alive.
Dar snorted and adjusted the straps of the heavy packs as they pressed down on his back. He was going to end up more nuts than the elf, at this rate.
He was about to leave, but as he started toward the door, he paused. There, on the bureau, was a small object.
He walked over to the dresser and picked up the object. It was a tiny silver amulet, threaded on a delicate chain of silver links. Holding it up to the light, he could see that the amulet held several small green shards. It took him a moment to figure out what they were.
Fragments of the stone he’d given Allera. Shay had probably brought them back. There were only a few of them, and none were larger than a sliver.
With an angry growl, he threw it across the room, and started toward the door.
His hand was on the handle when he stopped. Turning around, he walked over to the corner. He bent down, and picked up the amulet. He held it in his hand for several minutes, staring at it in silence. Finally, he lowered the chain around his neck, and tucked the amulet under his tunic.
“Damn it, damn it, damn it,” he said.
Then he left.
* * * * *
Chapter 112
MORE UNFINISHED BUSINESS
Dar returned to the end of the bed. He drew aside the coverlet, revealing his weapons, each laid out carefully. In addition to his trusty metal-shod club, there was his magical punching dagger, an extra mundane dagger, a new masterwork longbow, and his magical quiver, stuffed with hundreds of arrows. Each had been thoroughly cleaned and repaired as needed, ready to be used to deal out destruction. He’d lost Valus’s heavy shield in their final escape from the dungeon, but the cleric’s plate armor was in the second pack, carefully disassembled for travel. He’d learned that the value of his magical gear made him a rich man, exclusive of the hard coin and other valuables he’d kept from their latest excursion to Rappan Athuk. There were many other places he could go, places where a man like him could be what he was. Places where he’d fit in perfectly, where things would make sense.
Distracted, it took him a moment to realize that he was not alone. Putting his punching dagger back down on the bed, his hand drifted to the hilt of Valor.
“You don’t need that against me, Dar.”
Dar turned to see Velan Tiros standing in the doorway. “Come to get your sword back, marshal?”
Tiros came into the room, and shook his head. “No. It is yours now, clearly. It... suits you. I make no claim upon the weapon.”
“Good.”
“I saw Allera on my way in. She looked upset.”
“She’ll get over it,” Dar said, as he started sliding weapons into the loops on the outside of his packs. “What do you want, marshal?”
“Just to talk to you.”
“Well, make it quick. I’d like to be on a ship before nightfall.”
“Finally going to Drusia, as you’d said before?”
“I don’t know yet. Maybe.”
“Camar could still use your help.”
Dar snorted. “Camar has been anything but kind to me, marshal. Or should I say, ‘duke’?”
“I have never sought noble titles,” Tiros said. “The new High Council is still working out the details of official ranks and such, but I was thinking along the lines of ‘tribune,’ or something similar.”
“Power to the people, is that it?”
“Perhaps. It’s not perfect, but it’s better than what things were like under the Duke.”
“From what I hear, you’ve got a whole host of problems to deal with.”
Tiros nodded. “Dalemar to the north is under revolt. The Third Legion has gone over to the rebels.”
Dar looked surprised. “I hadn’t heard that. I mean, everyone’s heard about trouble to the north, but a full legion going over?”
“Don’t spread it around,” Tiros said. “The mood in the street is tenuous enough as it is.”
The fighter nodded. “So it’s civil war, then?”
“I hope it doesn’t come to that. We’re trying to set up negotiations with the rebels, but we’re also mobilizing the Second and Fourth Legions, if it comes to that. Camar can’t survive as a distinct state with an independent Dalemar on its northern border, and I think that the rebels know that.”
“Who’s in charge up there?”
“Kyros Livius.”
“Ah. He was commander of the Third when I was with the Fourth. He’s a prick, but I don’t think he is... well, he’s not the Duke, anyway. Might be he’d be willing to talk.”
“I hope so. We cannot afford another war right now.”
“What about the First?”
“Keeping them at Greathold, for now. Too many of its leaders were close with the Duke. Gaius Annochus does not believe that there are any more devils left in Camar, but they loyalties of the senior commanders have been made uncertain by what has happened. We may need to rebuild it from the ground up. Thankfully, the western border has been quiet.”
“I wouldn’t let your guard down, not with the elves. They’ve kept to the treaty, but they haven’t forgotten the past.”
“I understand that, believe me.”
There was a long silence between them. “What about Talen’s report?”
“I’ve spoken to him, and Varo. Talen’s presenting to the Council tomorrow, but Varo’s vanished again. That’s probably for the best.”
“Yeah, I don’t think that the Patriarch would be pleased to see him in the council chambers.”
“Varo knows that his presence is a liability to us, which is probably why he’s dropped out of sight.”
“If you think he isn’t planning something, you’re a fool.”
“I am not underestimating him,” Tiros said. “Talen told me what happened. In Rappan Athuk.”
“I suppose the question is, what are you going to do about it, marshal.”
“I don’t know what we can do, not until we’ve solidified things here in Camar.” The marshal paced around the far side of the bed. “We’ve hit the cult hard for what they did to Allera, but I’m not fool enough to think that we’re done with them, not by a long shot. We were thinking about pulling down the Border Legion from the Galerr Mountains, and repositioning them more to the east. The orcs haven’t ventured into the mountain passes in two generations, and...”
“Look, marshal, this isn’t my war. I never wanted any of it from the start.”
“We don’t always get to choose what battles we fight, warrior.”
“Yeah, but sometimes you get to choose which ones you get to walk away from, and you’re a fool if you don’t take that chance when it’s offered.”
“You know, probably better than anyone, what we’re up against. We’re stretched thin, Dar, no question about it. Which is why I could use you now, more than ever.”
Dar snorted. “One more sword isn’t going to make much of a difference.”
“I’m not asking for your sword.”
“If you’re asking what I think you’re asking, then you’re a bigger fool than I thought. I’ve told you before, I’m no leader.”
Tiros met Dar’s gaze, and held it. “I know you’ve had bad experiences with authority in the past, and your experiences with the legions was far from ideal. But we are entering a desperate time, Dar. Things do not have to be as they were in the past. You are your own man; I know that is important to you, is who you are. But consider also the value of being part of something larger than yourself. We are men, Dar, you and I. Our identity is created by what lies within us. But no man can stand alone. You served in combat, you know that this is true. When in the forging fires of battle, the man who is apart from his companion is quickly cut down in the surging tide, overwhelmed. So to it will be with Camar, I think.”
“You have mocked me in the past, warrior, and perhaps I deserved some of your calumny. There are things about you that I dislike greatly. But I have witnessed your mettle in the foulest pit known to man, in the desperate struggle for life and death, and I would stand by your side against any foe.”
“You can go to Drusia, or to the end of the world. But I don’t think you’ll find what you are looking for out there. It’s here, Dar... in the struggle to create something better than what came before. It’s in this that we find meaning for why we are here.”
Dar looked intently at Tiros for a long moment. Then he grinned broadly. “Damn, marshal, sometimes I forget how good you are at laying on the bull.”
“I meant what I said, every word.”
“I know. That’s what makes it so funny.”
Tiros’s face twisted into a wry smile. “Perhaps.” He walked past the bed toward the door, but he paused as he reached Dar. He put his hand on the warrior’s shoulder. “At least... think about what I have said.”
“If I do, I’ll know that I need a healer to have a look at my head,” Dar replied.
“Well then. I wish you well, warrior.” Tiros extended a hand. After a moment, Dar took it, gripping the marshal’s hand firmly.
“Good luck,” Dar said. “Sounds like you’ll need it.”
“I think we all will.”
With a final nod, Tiros released Dar’s hand and left, closing the door behind him.
Dar turned back and checked his gear a final time. Everything was in its place, but he hesitated.
For some reason, he looked down at his sword. Valor sat dormant in its scabbard. It was just a sword... but when he’d fought with it in Rappan Athuk, at times it had seemed that... what? This was crazy.
But as he gathered up his gear, he paused again. No, there was definitely something more to the blade than blue-forged steel. Both on the first trip to Rappan Athuk, when the sword had seemed to fight him every time he’d touched it, and on the second, when it fit into his hand like an extension of his arm, he’d felt a power deep within the weapon. When they had fought the servants of Orcus, in particular, the sword had seemed almost... alive.
Dar snorted and adjusted the straps of the heavy packs as they pressed down on his back. He was going to end up more nuts than the elf, at this rate.
He was about to leave, but as he started toward the door, he paused. There, on the bureau, was a small object.
He walked over to the dresser and picked up the object. It was a tiny silver amulet, threaded on a delicate chain of silver links. Holding it up to the light, he could see that the amulet held several small green shards. It took him a moment to figure out what they were.
Fragments of the stone he’d given Allera. Shay had probably brought them back. There were only a few of them, and none were larger than a sliver.
With an angry growl, he threw it across the room, and started toward the door.
His hand was on the handle when he stopped. Turning around, he walked over to the corner. He bent down, and picked up the amulet. He held it in his hand for several minutes, staring at it in silence. Finally, he lowered the chain around his neck, and tucked the amulet under his tunic.
“Damn it, damn it, damn it,” he said.
Then he left.
Ghostknight
First Post
He's definitely developing into something other than the chaotic fighter hellbent on destruction, of self and others, that he used to be. He better watch out, just now he'll be in the LN side, and its not a big trip from there to LG. He'll be preaching to the masses in the near future if he isn't careful! 
Lazybones
Adventurer
Chapter 113
THE COUNCIL
“It is not that we do not take your warning seriously, Captain Karedes,” Patriarch Gaius Annochus said. “It is just that the future of Camar itself is in jeopardy.”
Talen nodded, acknowledging the comment, but his jaw was set in a tight line, and it was evident that he did not agree with the high priest’s argument. But he was a captain, and the other was the head of the official church of the Grand Duchy, so that in essence settled the argument.
“I am saddened by the loss of one of the Guild’s shining stars,” Archmage Decimus Vitus Honoratius said. “But as a fellow member of the family Vitus, I can say all in the Guild stand ready to defend Camar with all of the power available to them.”
Talen nodded with respect to the wizard. The head of the Guild of Sorcery was a wizened husk of a man, wrapped in a robe of soft blue felt covered in faint runes stitched in silver thread. None knew for sure how old he was, but by all accounts, he had been a full member of the Guild when Gallus Felix the Younger had become Grand Duke, and that was over seventy years ago. Time had stolen much of his vitality, but one look into his eyes was enough to reveal that his mind, and with it his magic, had not been diminished.
“I think that all of us here are dedicated to the future of Camar,” Velan Tiros said. The marshal looked tired, even in the resplendent robes that he wore as the chairman of the new Great Council of what was still being called the Grand Duchy. Most of the Council meetings held thus far had been public, at Tiros’s insistence, but this one was being held behind closed doors. To Talen, standing before the dais where the new leadership of Camar sat facing him, the cavernous emptiness of the great hall made the council seem smaller by comparison. He kept such thoughts carefully to himself, but Honoratius looked intently at him, as if he’d read his mind.
As Talen swallowed, he realized that wasn’t that unlikely a prospect.
“Gentlemen, we have more immediate problems,” the last member of the council said. His name was Gallo Eutropius, and he represented the powerful mercantile guilds of the city. He had the dusky skin of an Eremite, and oiled mustachios that curled up from the edges of his upper lip. Erem was one of the most distant of Camar’s provinces, a place known primarily for its lusty, rough, and (to Camarians) outspoken people. The merchant, clad in silks weighed down by several pounds of bejeweled gold, slapped his hand loudly onto the dais table. “If the secession of Dalemar is successful, then the realm will lose two thirds of its tax revenues within two seasons. Routing the trade from Emor province through the mountains to avoid the northern ports will be almost impossible for all but two months of the year. I hope I do not need to tell you how catastrophic that would be for the future of Camar.”
“Thank you for the reminder, Councilor Eutropius,” Tiros said. “We will address our response to the latest news from the north as the next item on our agenda. A moment, captain.” Talen had already started to back away, assuming that he’d been dismissed.
“Sir?” Talen said reflexively, coming back to attention.
“There is one more matter for which we require your attention,” Tiros said. “For which Camar requires your service.”
Talen brought his fist to his chest in a legionary’s salute. “I stand ready to serve,” he said.
The other council members had leaned back in their chairs, deferring to Tiros. The marshal took a deep breath and continued, his tone such that he might have been talking to Talen alone. “These are troubled times for Camar, captain. Not only the future of the state, but the very lives of the over a million people who dwell within the borders of the Grand Duchy and its provinces may be at stake. The people of the Duchy are divided against each other, the legacy of the corrupt rule of the false Duke. In such times, it is vital that we gather every resource that the realm can muster to face the battles that may lie ahead.”
“Over the last few weeks, I have spent time in the ducal archives. I have read details of Camar’s history known to few, but we have all heard the stories of our past. This is not the first time that the people of Camar have faced great threats. In past ages, our forefathers came to an untamed land, and forged a civilization out of the wilds. They fought wars, desperate struggles against the orcs, the elves, and the hard men of Erem and Emor. They fought monsters out of legend, creatures like the ancient dragon Calimthrexas, the Stone King, and the colossal vermin of Athrides.”
“In my research, I found little to suggest that those heroes of an earlier Camar were any different than our people today. They lived, ate, slept, fought, dreamed, and loved. They had hopes for the future for themselves and their children. They feared what they did not know, and were wary of the threats that lived in the shadows.”
“The people of Camar today have had their faith weakened by what was done to them by the lies and evil of the Duke and his cabal. They need a symbol of hope, something to reassure them that the future can hold something better, that there are people willing to offer their lives to keep them safe.”
Talen watched his mentor and leader as he continued his oration. The other members of the Council seemed less impressed, but they listened attentively.
“In the past, there was a special order of defenders that was dedicated specifically to facing the worst of the threats that a dangerous world offered. They answered to the Grand Dukes, but more broadly, their mandate was to the people of Camar. Their ranks included men and women of diverse talents and backgrounds, brought together in a common cause. Their mantra was Vigilo et spero: I watch, and I hope. They were known as the Dragon Knights of Camar.”
“Captain Talen Karedes, this Council has decided that this order is to be reborn, at this time of great need. You shall be the first of the new Dragon Knights, and it shall be your mandate to reconstitute this body, with all due speed. You will be provided with a writ of authority that will allow you to develop a process for recruitment, training, and quartering of the new organization, as well as that of a staff for logistical and other support responsibilities.”
Talen blinked. “I... that is, I stand ready to serve, and I will do my best to ensure that the trust you have invested in me this day shall not be misplaced.”
“See that it is not,” the aged wizard said.
Tiros nodded to Talen, sending him a look that said, We will speak more later. Talen saluted the Council once more, then bowed, and departed. As he left he could hear the leaders of Camar once more talking about the rebellion to the north, and he wondered what he and a few recruits could possibly do to arrest what seemed like an inevitable slide toward disaster.
THE COUNCIL
“It is not that we do not take your warning seriously, Captain Karedes,” Patriarch Gaius Annochus said. “It is just that the future of Camar itself is in jeopardy.”
Talen nodded, acknowledging the comment, but his jaw was set in a tight line, and it was evident that he did not agree with the high priest’s argument. But he was a captain, and the other was the head of the official church of the Grand Duchy, so that in essence settled the argument.
“I am saddened by the loss of one of the Guild’s shining stars,” Archmage Decimus Vitus Honoratius said. “But as a fellow member of the family Vitus, I can say all in the Guild stand ready to defend Camar with all of the power available to them.”
Talen nodded with respect to the wizard. The head of the Guild of Sorcery was a wizened husk of a man, wrapped in a robe of soft blue felt covered in faint runes stitched in silver thread. None knew for sure how old he was, but by all accounts, he had been a full member of the Guild when Gallus Felix the Younger had become Grand Duke, and that was over seventy years ago. Time had stolen much of his vitality, but one look into his eyes was enough to reveal that his mind, and with it his magic, had not been diminished.
“I think that all of us here are dedicated to the future of Camar,” Velan Tiros said. The marshal looked tired, even in the resplendent robes that he wore as the chairman of the new Great Council of what was still being called the Grand Duchy. Most of the Council meetings held thus far had been public, at Tiros’s insistence, but this one was being held behind closed doors. To Talen, standing before the dais where the new leadership of Camar sat facing him, the cavernous emptiness of the great hall made the council seem smaller by comparison. He kept such thoughts carefully to himself, but Honoratius looked intently at him, as if he’d read his mind.
As Talen swallowed, he realized that wasn’t that unlikely a prospect.
“Gentlemen, we have more immediate problems,” the last member of the council said. His name was Gallo Eutropius, and he represented the powerful mercantile guilds of the city. He had the dusky skin of an Eremite, and oiled mustachios that curled up from the edges of his upper lip. Erem was one of the most distant of Camar’s provinces, a place known primarily for its lusty, rough, and (to Camarians) outspoken people. The merchant, clad in silks weighed down by several pounds of bejeweled gold, slapped his hand loudly onto the dais table. “If the secession of Dalemar is successful, then the realm will lose two thirds of its tax revenues within two seasons. Routing the trade from Emor province through the mountains to avoid the northern ports will be almost impossible for all but two months of the year. I hope I do not need to tell you how catastrophic that would be for the future of Camar.”
“Thank you for the reminder, Councilor Eutropius,” Tiros said. “We will address our response to the latest news from the north as the next item on our agenda. A moment, captain.” Talen had already started to back away, assuming that he’d been dismissed.
“Sir?” Talen said reflexively, coming back to attention.
“There is one more matter for which we require your attention,” Tiros said. “For which Camar requires your service.”
Talen brought his fist to his chest in a legionary’s salute. “I stand ready to serve,” he said.
The other council members had leaned back in their chairs, deferring to Tiros. The marshal took a deep breath and continued, his tone such that he might have been talking to Talen alone. “These are troubled times for Camar, captain. Not only the future of the state, but the very lives of the over a million people who dwell within the borders of the Grand Duchy and its provinces may be at stake. The people of the Duchy are divided against each other, the legacy of the corrupt rule of the false Duke. In such times, it is vital that we gather every resource that the realm can muster to face the battles that may lie ahead.”
“Over the last few weeks, I have spent time in the ducal archives. I have read details of Camar’s history known to few, but we have all heard the stories of our past. This is not the first time that the people of Camar have faced great threats. In past ages, our forefathers came to an untamed land, and forged a civilization out of the wilds. They fought wars, desperate struggles against the orcs, the elves, and the hard men of Erem and Emor. They fought monsters out of legend, creatures like the ancient dragon Calimthrexas, the Stone King, and the colossal vermin of Athrides.”
“In my research, I found little to suggest that those heroes of an earlier Camar were any different than our people today. They lived, ate, slept, fought, dreamed, and loved. They had hopes for the future for themselves and their children. They feared what they did not know, and were wary of the threats that lived in the shadows.”
“The people of Camar today have had their faith weakened by what was done to them by the lies and evil of the Duke and his cabal. They need a symbol of hope, something to reassure them that the future can hold something better, that there are people willing to offer their lives to keep them safe.”
Talen watched his mentor and leader as he continued his oration. The other members of the Council seemed less impressed, but they listened attentively.
“In the past, there was a special order of defenders that was dedicated specifically to facing the worst of the threats that a dangerous world offered. They answered to the Grand Dukes, but more broadly, their mandate was to the people of Camar. Their ranks included men and women of diverse talents and backgrounds, brought together in a common cause. Their mantra was Vigilo et spero: I watch, and I hope. They were known as the Dragon Knights of Camar.”
“Captain Talen Karedes, this Council has decided that this order is to be reborn, at this time of great need. You shall be the first of the new Dragon Knights, and it shall be your mandate to reconstitute this body, with all due speed. You will be provided with a writ of authority that will allow you to develop a process for recruitment, training, and quartering of the new organization, as well as that of a staff for logistical and other support responsibilities.”
Talen blinked. “I... that is, I stand ready to serve, and I will do my best to ensure that the trust you have invested in me this day shall not be misplaced.”
“See that it is not,” the aged wizard said.
Tiros nodded to Talen, sending him a look that said, We will speak more later. Talen saluted the Council once more, then bowed, and departed. As he left he could hear the leaders of Camar once more talking about the rebellion to the north, and he wondered what he and a few recruits could possibly do to arrest what seemed like an inevitable slide toward disaster.
Ghostknight
First Post
So, is this going to be a new prestrige class, or just a renaming of one of the existing ones? An interesting development. I agree I can't see Dar agreeing to join up and have Talen as his boss- though a knightly order may suite his developing lawful tendencies.
Richard Rawen
First Post
Indeed, a lot to ponder... which is why it is so fun to read 
For instance . . . how is LB going to get these guys back together is not near is perplexing as how he's going to get them (willingly or otherwise) back into the DoG...
For instance . . . how is LB going to get these guys back together is not near is perplexing as how he's going to get them (willingly or otherwise) back into the DoG...
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Lazybones
Adventurer
Talen will be taking levels in the Purple Dragon Knight PrC, without the Purple. Allera will have to coach him some on the Negotiator aspect first, though.Ghostknight said:
Dar will be heading in a different direction, at least for now, where we'll get to see an interesting clash between his new "tendencies" and his inherent nature. We'll get back to him next week.
I have a few surprises up my sleeve...Richard Rawen said:
* * * * *
Chapter 114
A DARK AND STORMY NIGHT
A constant patter of rain on the sheet metal roof filled the dim outline of the cavernous, empty warehouse. Other than the noise of the rain, and the occasional gust of wind through the gaping, empty doorways on either side of the building, the night was quiet. The floor was canted slightly but obviously; the ground at one end of the building was about three feet higher than that on the far end. That was a common phenomenon on Camar’s South Docks. Originally built on reclaimed land to add to the crowded port’s capacity, the planning that went into the construction was ultimately flawed by poor organization, corruption, and simple incompetence. After about half of the actual docks had sunk into the harbor with a few years of opening, most of the rest of the area had been abandoned. Now the seedier tiers of Camar’s society made use of the place, and everyone else gave it a very wide berth.
Several dark forms materialized out of the rain and wind, walking into the interior of the warehouse. Their bootsteps echoed off the cavernous interior of the place. They carried no light, but the protruding shapes of what might have been weapons were visible under the heavy oilcloth cloaks that they wore. There were five of them.
The strangers engaged in conversation in low voices, speaking in a dialect thick with lilting vowels and short, guttural exclamations. One of them, a reed of a man with a head shaved bald, asked a question of the leader.
“I am here, gentlemen,” came a voice from the shadows.
The five strangers shifted to face the figure that emerged from the deeper darkness along the far wall, into the only dim light that made it through the side doors. The leader stepped forward to meet him, his companions spreading out in a wary half-circle behind him.
“You conduct business in odd places,” the man said in thickly-accented Common, drawing back the hood of his cloak to reveal his face. His skin was the color of fresh-tilled earth. A finely-trimmed beard ran along the edges of his jaw, jutting forward to a dagger-shaped point that protruded several inches beyond his chin.
“Both of us engage in trades that are not always... understood, in the bright light of the day,” Licinius Varo said. “Still, Master Alzoun, I appreciate your willingness to meet me on such short notice.”
“My contact said that you had something to make it worth my while,” the dusky foreigner replied.
Varo nodded, and drew out a leather backpack he’d been carrying under his cloak. Unfastening the clasps on the top of the satchel, he drew out a long bundle wrapped in heavy cloth. It became quickly clear that the pack was no ordinary object, as the bundle ended up being longer than its container by several feet.
Varo laid the bundle down on the ground between himself and Alzoun, and unwrapped it to reveal its contents. In the shadowly light, the objects inside were merely vague outlines.
The trader made a small motion, and one of his men came forward. Bending low over the bundle, he drew out a small object that cast a thin, highly focused light upon the bundle. The light revealed what they were; weapons, a half-dozen morningstars that sprouted vicious-looking spikes from their business ends. The man examined them quickly and efficiently, pausing briefly to mutter arcane words as he passed his hands over them. Then he extinguished the light and stepped back.
“Unholy morningstars,” he reported to Alzoun. “The taint is very strong.”
The trader nodded. “Potent magic. Given the prominence of the church of the Father in these lands, I can see why you would not be eager to draw attention to your possession of such objects."
“I assume that you have a market for such?”
“As you well know, my friend, there is a market for everything, if one can but find it.”
“It would be better if they were not used within the borders of Camar,” Varo said. “It could make things... complicated.”
“I can assure you that by the coming of dawn, they will already be far away from these shores. There is a powerful monastic sect in Drusia, that has enemies.” He didn’t offer anything more; he didn’t have to.
“And my request?” Varo asked.
Alzoun waved a hand. “The items you seek are exceptionally rare. If it even became hinted that I had taken the stones outside of the borders of Razhur... my life would be forfeit, and I would never be able to return to my homeland.”
“I am known for my discretion,” Varo said. “And for my impatience with those who would seek to cheat me.”
The trader inclined his head slightly. “I would not dream of challenging either,” he said. “But while these,” he indicated the weapons, “are powerful, they do not equal what you ask for. Perhaps half of the number of devices that you requested—”
“I will have the full quantity,” Varo interrupted. He reached under his cloak again—drawing a subtle reaction of alarm from the trader’s guards at the motion—and drew out another object.
Alzoun made another small gesture to his wizard, who came forward and took the item. He held it gingerly, and made a small exclamation in his own language. This time, he did not have to draw out his light or cast a spell. He held the object out to Alzoun, so the trader could see it clearly. Even in the weak light, the greed that shone in the man’s eyes was palpable.
“I have never seen the like,” he said. “A mask of the skull...”
“I have seen it used,” Varo said. “It is... effective.”
“A very unique item. May I ask where you acquired it?”
“You may ask,” Varo said, the implication clear in how he said it.
Alzoun chuckled. “Never mind, then. We have a trade.” He gestured back to another of his men, who came forward, drawing out a small iron box from under his cloak. Varo could see that there were runes etched into its surface.
The trader marked his scrutiny. “Sometimes it is better to ensure that certain things are beyond notice, even when one is far away from those who would look,” he said. “You may have the box, as well, as part of the bargain.”
“Open it,” the cleric said.
The man complied, working the lock a bit awkwardly, as he held the box on one arm. When it opened, Varo came forward and looked inside. The box was lined heavily with velvet cloth, and was empty save for six metal rings, each set with a dark round gemstone. The cleric summoned the magic of his god, scanning the rings, and then he nodded to the armsman, who shut the box, handing both it and the key to the cleric.
Alzoun’s men had already gathered up the bundle of weapons. “May Dagos be with you,” the trader said, with a slight bow. As he straightened, a small metal object came out from under his cloak, dangling from a thin metal chain. The symbol matched the one that Varo wore around his neck.
“And with you as well,” Varo said. Sliding the box into his handy haversack, he took up the burden and walked toward one of the exits out into the night rain. Alzoun and his men headed in the opposite direction, departing via the far exit.
Neither group looked back, and within a few seconds, the abandoned warehouse was once again empty and silent, save for the constant patter of the rain.
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Ghostknight
First Post
So the worship of the Dark Creeper isn't quite as destroyed as is thought... Now varos just needs to get some acolytes from that bunch and start rebuilding..
Hmm, and why do I sense a certain monk and apprentice wizard reappeareing- after their monastery is destroyed by attackers with unholy maces?
Of course, maybe I am just too suspicious...
Hmm, and why do I sense a certain monk and apprentice wizard reappeareing- after their monastery is destroyed by attackers with unholy maces?
Of course, maybe I am just too suspicious...
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