Upgrade your account to a Community Supporter account and remove most of the site ads.

Reply to thread

Message: <blockquote data-quote="Herremann the Wise" data-source="post: 1883039" data-attributes="member: 11300">The Stones of FateSeveral years earlier…The mighty Beltrates joins together a vast and varied expanse of population, from the ancient areas of Kortillne all the way down and through the city states of Greatbridge, Flekir and Keryl to the Emperor’s current seat of Peronsil and finally to the Beltrates Delta at Nethendawe. The Beltrates Delta itself empties into the legendary Sea of Amber where to the east, lying on the southern sweep of the Sea is the country of Amborna while on the western arc of the Amber's reach lays the rugged coastline of Derman. The wilds of Derman are a primal realm noted for their mighty fjords, ancient topography and smatterings of primitive culture. The small tribes and groupings are humano-centric with traces of orcish and other barbaric bloodlines widely spread. Some of the coastal clans have developed through trade or plunder while other inland tribes still live, as they existed many hundreds of years ago by the dictates of their shamans.Along the northern lands of the Derman coastline deep amongst the icy fjords laid several tribal areas. These areas defined by the dominant clan in each region had been in conflict or at war with one another for well beyond living memory. Hatreds had blackened the blood running through their veins for so many generations that whether by instinct or instruction, an inevitable and immutable aura of loathing and eternal malice clouded the entire region. The wilds of Derman were an intensely dangerous place.Currently, Lucifus Cray was watching a spectacle high atop the cliffs of one of the great fjords of the Strauchn Tribe{1}. A half-circle of rock perilously reached outwards of the cliff top, hundreds of feet above the rocky crags below. The hostile wash of treacherous waves thundered into the cliffwall, sending spumes high into the frigid air. Upon the semi-circular platform lay a series of important stones of significance forming a henge enclosing two combatants carefully circling each other. The entire male component of the Strauchn tribe attempted to view this battle from the arena-like hilltop behind the semi-circular henge: one of Hercule’s moons full in the night sky lent adequate illumination along with several fires. The warriors each moved with speed and precision, every shift and feint met by a roar or savage intake of breath - the clash was to decide the fate of the clan’s leadership.Lucifus had been staying with the tribe’s Shamaness learning from her ancient secrets of power amongst other things. The tribe regarded him suspiciously but as the Shamaness was obviously cavorting with the strange and powerful “tuk-tuk”{2}, his presence was tolerated. He floated beside her, currently watching the ferocious yet to him slightly ridiculous death duel between Klorgan: the Clan’s leader{3} and a powerful young fighter challenging him by the name of Tunthi. Lucifus was currently conveying his thoughts to the Shamaness in the more civilised Ambornan speech – Lucifus’s native tongue and a language he had taught her over the past year.“Do you expect this challenger to be successful? There have been several over the past two moons. The Mighty Klorgan for a fact is looking somewhat taxed by the younger challenger.”Ugari’s clear gaze never wavered from the contest, the Shamaness’ dark hair bound in ceremonial significance. “The celestials tell me many things and the forces behind them more. Of this contest however I cannot divine. Tunthi lacks the wisdom for leadership despite his strong arm. It would be a poor choice of the spirits to allow him victory.” Whilst only slight, Ugari, Shamaness of the Strauchn had an aura of power about her unmatched by any in the clan. Her word was as law. Or perhaps more accurately in terms of their barbaric culture, her word was feared by all. She looked on in silence, her face an intense and unreadable mask.The clan roared as Klorgan parried away a sudden slicing arc from the younger Tunthi before bringing his own axe to bear; the overhand thrust separating bone and sinew along Tunthi’s left shoulder. The burst of sound from the savage crowd echoed over the henge and out into the sea’s far expanse. Klorgan followed the strike by battering the full weight of the axe into Tunthi’s chest, an explosion of air rushing out of the challenger’s lungs. The sheer force of the brutal blow had pushed Tunthi back and over to the ground: two glisteningly white ribs had broken through crimsoned muscle and skin as evidence of Klorgan’s savage ferocity. The leader stepped in for the killing blow to separate head from neck but was briefly thwarted by Tunthi’s ruined arm, the blow smashing his forearm apart and glancing off onto the side of his face ripping off cheek, ear and jowl. The loud clattering of the clan’s collective axes acknowledged the imminent victory of Klorgan – his opponent helpless upon the ground and at his mercy.Klorgan looked around the henge as the bellowing din of the clan washed over him, the flames of fate illuminating his massive sweaty and bloody features as he held his axe high to his men once more in victory. His eyes were fevered in rage, his body taut in triumph as he quickly swung around with a flourish and brought the axe down single-handedly into Tunthi’s ruined body. So quick that men would boast to the spirits that they had seen the blow, Tunthi twisted bringing his own axe up. The blade cut deeply across the throat of Klorgan as the clan leader sent the strike that should have ended the duel off of Tunthi’s side and into the rocky dirt. Klorgan’s eyes danced in panic as he realised his mortal mistake, a hand went to his throat to stop the instant gush of blood but the blood welled through his grip and down his arm, his front an instant crimson. He pulled his axe arm back as if to attempt another blow but with this final act of futility, he collapsed chest first to the ground. He would die with the bitterest knowledge of his loss wrought across his strained and defeated features.The Clan had momentarily stilled; gone quiet as if trying to take in either what they had seen or the ill logic of what seemed to have taken place. Tunthi rose upon one knee before taking Klorgan’s axe as his own. With what was left of his strength, he raised the axe known simply as “Gnasa”. A ragged cheer went up from some acknowledging the victory while most looked on in solemn silence, their faces turned to the Shamaness, the clan’s flame flickering strongly behind her. She herself waited for Tunthi to complete the victory.Tunthi, his left side covered almost totally in his own blood, the side of his face a bloody, mangled mess had the strength to get to his feet and step to one of the standing stones. While his left arm dangled uselessly to one side, the other held his new axe, also gripping the side of one of the standing stones. Lending his shoulder to the effort with both legs straining, he toppled the tall stone off the precipice into the gnashing black seas below. The wind blew ferociously and so the rock’s impact was never to be heard. It was however certainly felt. The Clan started battering axe heads into shields or other axes, the noise and clamour of the clan rising swiftly in volume. Over all was heard the penetrating granite voice of the Shamaness shouting a single victorious word. Gnasa!!!***{1} Strauchn when translated by an enthusiast with a streak of panache would best be represented by the moniker “Mighty Sea Wolves”. A stricter and less inspirational translation would be “hungry water people”. {2}Tuk-Tuk in Derman means little non-fighting man or in the course and vulgar slang of some clan members “du Gnasa”.{3} While the Clan Leader was responsible for the martial undertakings of the tribe, the real power and essence of the tribe resided with the Shamaness. It was held that the tribe’s entire soul resided in her heart. As such, most matters of life and death were her province. It was her immediate responsibility and duty to judge the victor of the duel worthy of carrying the Clan’s flame – currently sitting to her right atop a mighty torch.</blockquote>

Verification