Wulf's Collected Story Hour -- FINAL UPDATE 12/25
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Wulf Ratbane
Adventurer
LORD OF THE IRON FORTRESS-- Part VII (continued)
Wulf suddenly found himself standing back in his Forge.
“I’m saved! It’s a miracle!”
“You got that right,” said the Old Man.
Wulf had delayed just long enough. Once Keldas had plane shifted back, it was a simple matter for Shorty to teleport them back to the Forge, and thence to the Old Man.
The paladin was returned by the same manner.
“How did you get back?” he asked Wulf.
“Not YOU,” Wulf said.
The paladin’s boy spoke up. “I really thought you were better than this…”
Karak felt a sudden coldness in his heart. Tyr was not pleased.
The party fell to bickering for several minutes.
“You left! I couldn’t see you!” the paladin protested. “I assumed you were dead or gone.”
“Let me just see if I got this straight,” Wulf said incredulously. “Yer walk around the corner over there, I should just assume yer dead?”
“Staying was pointless! What good would more death have served?”
“I was pretty much fully healed,” the boy reminded him.
“So, Tyr is, like, the God of Valor, right?” asked Keldas, feigning ignorance.
“We were surrounded! That’s not valor, that’s suicide!”
“Chickensh*t,” Shorty said.
“And thank YOU, by the way,” Wulf said, rounding on Keldas. “Thanks for comin’ with me. Yer want that staff or NOT? I tell yer what, we get that thing back, yer better stick it in a friggin’ VAULT.”
The Old Man stepped in to intercede. “I think you will need to visit your temple, Karak, to seek an atonement.”
“I don’t think I WANT to atone!” yelled Karak.
The rest of the group was stunned to silence, but Wulf smiled and pounced on the paladin’s moment of weakness. “Aye, I’m with yer! Screw the gods, right?”
The argument continued unabated until the Old Man had heard enough. “I must resurrect Diessa.”
“Well, we’re out of cash, yer leech.”
The Old Man smiled. “Diessa is a child of Moradin. This one is on me.”
“I told you getting rid of Alliane was a good idea,” Keldas deadpanned. “She just saved us eight grand.”
***
Karak eventually returned from his temple.
“How’d it go?” asked Shorty.
“There is room for atonement. I must complete my quest—without resorting to any of my divine abilities. I don’t know how they expect me to complete this quest as a…” Karak gulped. The very thought was making him ill. “As a fighter.”
“Interesting,” Shorty said, kicking back and putting his feet up. “We were just thinking about dropping the whole thing.”
“Aye,” Wulf said. “So, ahh… good luck with all that.”
Karak looked ready to cry.
“Oh, cut it out,” Shorty said. “Unlike some people we don’t let our friends down. We’re not done yet.”
“Pfft… These paladins today,” Wulf said. “Back in my day yer’d be stripped o’ yer powers, no questions asked. So shut up and count yer blessin’s.”
“What’s the plan, then?”
“I figure we do the same thing, only this time without all the runnin’ away and abandonin’ yer friends.”
“Third time’s the charm,” said Shorty.
“Do we try the anti-magic scroll again?” the dragon asked.
“Next verse, same as the first!” Shorty sang.
“I’m outta cash,” Wulf said.
“I have a little tucked away,” Keldas admitted. “We’ll try it again.”
**
They returned to Acheron and prepped up about 200 yards off the main gate.
“The guards have changed,” said the dragon.
“What yer got?” Wulf asked.
“A black golem... and a kyton—or so I’d guess from all the chains.”
As they approached the gate, the kyton shouted, “Halt, in the name of the Lord of the Iron Fortress! I have been sent to parlay.”
“Start parlayin’ then.” Wulf crossed his arms.
“Imperagon seeks peace, and is prepared to offer you adamantine and baatorian steel to buy your favor.”
Wulf spit. “We’re not leavin’ without the head of Imperagon.”
Wulf paused. “Err... How much adamantine are we talkin’ here?”
But it was too late. His allies had already begun the attack. Karak and the dragon rushed past in a fury, and it was all Wulf could do to keep up with the dragon.
“Gotta protect him till we hit Imperagon!” Wulf said. “He’s my mobile fightin’ platform.”
Shorty, Keldas, and Diessa stood in the back and applauded politely at Karak’s efforts—their spells were of no use against their foes. Keldas stepped forward for a moment as if to join the fight.
“Hey, what are you doing?” Shorty asked. “Stay clear.”
Keldas waved him off. “It’s all right. I’m going to cast rapid strikes on the false paladin.”
With that aid and some timely healing from Diessa, they were once more inside the fortress. They paused just long enough for Shorty to dispel the forbiddance that permeated the area. “That might help a little...”
Once again they charged up the stairs, threw open the door, and began their third and final assault on Imperagon. They had all learned a thing or two in their last encounter. The dragon flew inside, shielded with anti-magic, and hovered in mid-air for the entire battle, simply doing his part to keep three summoned gelugons suppressed.
Shorty made quick work of their enemies with wall of force, seperating them out as best he could, and to counter the forcefields thrown up by their enemies, he used dimension door to keep the party on the offense.
The old woman had changed forms for the occasion, this time appearing as a small boy; little did she know if there was one thing the paladin couldn’t resist, it was a chance to tangle with a small boy. Karak pressed the attack on her, striking blow after blow through her displacement, until at last she was forced to withdraw. She threw a wall of force around the paladin and the fallen archon, trapping the two nemeses inside together.
Karak held for a moment while Wulf pounded on the outside of his force bubble. “What are yer waitin’ for?”
Karak chose retreat over redemption. With the forbiddance wisely taken care of in advance, he was able to use his helm to teleport just outside the bubble, into the healing touch of Diessa. The archon followed quickly with dimension door, but Keldas was ready and sent him off with a maze spell.
“That won’t hold him long,” Keldas warned.
Indeed, the archon was back in mere moments, having simply used plane shift to escape the demi-plane.
Keldas wasn’t finished by half. He cast power word stun on the pit fiend—adequately weakened by Shorty’s repeated blasts—and while Wulf and Karak set about dismantling the devil, Keldas summoned a dire bear to deal with the rakshasa. Thinking back on the number of times he’d been threatened by the grapple of the steel predators, he thought it only fair to give the rakshasa a taste of her own medicine.
Huge claws grabbed the rakshasa and pulled it in. The rakshasa struggled for several rounds, using Keldas’ staff to detonate fireball after fireball right into the dire bear’s jaws, with no regard for itself, friend, or foe that might be nearby. But with Diessa standing behind the bear with a wand of healing-- the bear was so big, in fact, its ass protruded a good 10 feet outside the blast of the fireball-- there was no escape. The rakshasa fell, at last.
Keldas scooped up his staff. “Let me show you how this is done!”
He summoned an angelic deva.
The deva casually killed the pit fiend with a backhand stroke and headed for the archon. “You’ve been very naughty, brother...”
The archon didn’t stick around for his punishment.
One by one, they mopped up their enemies until at last, only Imperagon was left, broken and beaten.
Wulf grabbed him roughly. “Who’s yer daddy?”
“Ashardalon,” Imperagon said. “Can’t you tell?”
“Not really,” Keldas said. “We’d heard Ashardalon was kind of tough...”
“Tell me what yer been doin’ with the souls of dwarves,” Wulf asked.
“Working to complete an artifact for myself.”
“What?”
“The Blade of Fiery Might.”
“Already got one.” Wulf said, shoving him away.
“What else can you tell us about Ashardalon?” Keldas asked.
“For the love of god,” Wulf said. “We just got done with one adventure, yer settin’ up the next one. Give it a friggin’ rest already.”
Imperagon ignored him. “He has been revitalizing himself!” The dwarf grinned and would have laughed, but wisely choked it off. Keldas’ face didn’t show the slightest tolerance for a sense of humor, let alone megalomaniacal dramatics.
“Revitalizing himself?” Keldas asked. His hands tightened on his staff.
“He found a... power source. In the Abyss. Something to restore his heart.”
“Yer know who destroyed that heart?” Wulf asked. He stood behind Keldas and pointed a silent, accusatory finger at him. HE DID! he mouthed.
The deva stepped forward. “Allow me to take Imperagon into custody.”
“I’m more the whackin’ persuasion, myself,” Wulf admitted.
“He is harmless now,” the deva said. “A proper welcome—and an impenetrable cell—has been prepared for him in the heavens.”
“All right, all right. I can agree to that.” Wulf said. “Just after I strip him naked and paint his ass blue.”
Wulf suddenly found himself standing back in his Forge.
“I’m saved! It’s a miracle!”
“You got that right,” said the Old Man.
Wulf had delayed just long enough. Once Keldas had plane shifted back, it was a simple matter for Shorty to teleport them back to the Forge, and thence to the Old Man.
The paladin was returned by the same manner.
“How did you get back?” he asked Wulf.
“Not YOU,” Wulf said.
The paladin’s boy spoke up. “I really thought you were better than this…”
Karak felt a sudden coldness in his heart. Tyr was not pleased.
The party fell to bickering for several minutes.
“You left! I couldn’t see you!” the paladin protested. “I assumed you were dead or gone.”
“Let me just see if I got this straight,” Wulf said incredulously. “Yer walk around the corner over there, I should just assume yer dead?”
“Staying was pointless! What good would more death have served?”
“I was pretty much fully healed,” the boy reminded him.
“So, Tyr is, like, the God of Valor, right?” asked Keldas, feigning ignorance.
“We were surrounded! That’s not valor, that’s suicide!”
“Chickensh*t,” Shorty said.
“And thank YOU, by the way,” Wulf said, rounding on Keldas. “Thanks for comin’ with me. Yer want that staff or NOT? I tell yer what, we get that thing back, yer better stick it in a friggin’ VAULT.”
The Old Man stepped in to intercede. “I think you will need to visit your temple, Karak, to seek an atonement.”
“I don’t think I WANT to atone!” yelled Karak.
The rest of the group was stunned to silence, but Wulf smiled and pounced on the paladin’s moment of weakness. “Aye, I’m with yer! Screw the gods, right?”
The argument continued unabated until the Old Man had heard enough. “I must resurrect Diessa.”
“Well, we’re out of cash, yer leech.”
The Old Man smiled. “Diessa is a child of Moradin. This one is on me.”
“I told you getting rid of Alliane was a good idea,” Keldas deadpanned. “She just saved us eight grand.”
***
Karak eventually returned from his temple.
“How’d it go?” asked Shorty.
“There is room for atonement. I must complete my quest—without resorting to any of my divine abilities. I don’t know how they expect me to complete this quest as a…” Karak gulped. The very thought was making him ill. “As a fighter.”
“Interesting,” Shorty said, kicking back and putting his feet up. “We were just thinking about dropping the whole thing.”
“Aye,” Wulf said. “So, ahh… good luck with all that.”
Karak looked ready to cry.
“Oh, cut it out,” Shorty said. “Unlike some people we don’t let our friends down. We’re not done yet.”
“Pfft… These paladins today,” Wulf said. “Back in my day yer’d be stripped o’ yer powers, no questions asked. So shut up and count yer blessin’s.”
“What’s the plan, then?”
“I figure we do the same thing, only this time without all the runnin’ away and abandonin’ yer friends.”
“Third time’s the charm,” said Shorty.
“Do we try the anti-magic scroll again?” the dragon asked.
“Next verse, same as the first!” Shorty sang.
“I’m outta cash,” Wulf said.
“I have a little tucked away,” Keldas admitted. “We’ll try it again.”
**
They returned to Acheron and prepped up about 200 yards off the main gate.
“The guards have changed,” said the dragon.
“What yer got?” Wulf asked.
“A black golem... and a kyton—or so I’d guess from all the chains.”
As they approached the gate, the kyton shouted, “Halt, in the name of the Lord of the Iron Fortress! I have been sent to parlay.”
“Start parlayin’ then.” Wulf crossed his arms.
“Imperagon seeks peace, and is prepared to offer you adamantine and baatorian steel to buy your favor.”
Wulf spit. “We’re not leavin’ without the head of Imperagon.”
Wulf paused. “Err... How much adamantine are we talkin’ here?”
But it was too late. His allies had already begun the attack. Karak and the dragon rushed past in a fury, and it was all Wulf could do to keep up with the dragon.
“Gotta protect him till we hit Imperagon!” Wulf said. “He’s my mobile fightin’ platform.”
Shorty, Keldas, and Diessa stood in the back and applauded politely at Karak’s efforts—their spells were of no use against their foes. Keldas stepped forward for a moment as if to join the fight.
“Hey, what are you doing?” Shorty asked. “Stay clear.”
Keldas waved him off. “It’s all right. I’m going to cast rapid strikes on the false paladin.”
With that aid and some timely healing from Diessa, they were once more inside the fortress. They paused just long enough for Shorty to dispel the forbiddance that permeated the area. “That might help a little...”
Once again they charged up the stairs, threw open the door, and began their third and final assault on Imperagon. They had all learned a thing or two in their last encounter. The dragon flew inside, shielded with anti-magic, and hovered in mid-air for the entire battle, simply doing his part to keep three summoned gelugons suppressed.
Shorty made quick work of their enemies with wall of force, seperating them out as best he could, and to counter the forcefields thrown up by their enemies, he used dimension door to keep the party on the offense.
The old woman had changed forms for the occasion, this time appearing as a small boy; little did she know if there was one thing the paladin couldn’t resist, it was a chance to tangle with a small boy. Karak pressed the attack on her, striking blow after blow through her displacement, until at last she was forced to withdraw. She threw a wall of force around the paladin and the fallen archon, trapping the two nemeses inside together.
Karak held for a moment while Wulf pounded on the outside of his force bubble. “What are yer waitin’ for?”
Karak chose retreat over redemption. With the forbiddance wisely taken care of in advance, he was able to use his helm to teleport just outside the bubble, into the healing touch of Diessa. The archon followed quickly with dimension door, but Keldas was ready and sent him off with a maze spell.
“That won’t hold him long,” Keldas warned.
Indeed, the archon was back in mere moments, having simply used plane shift to escape the demi-plane.
Keldas wasn’t finished by half. He cast power word stun on the pit fiend—adequately weakened by Shorty’s repeated blasts—and while Wulf and Karak set about dismantling the devil, Keldas summoned a dire bear to deal with the rakshasa. Thinking back on the number of times he’d been threatened by the grapple of the steel predators, he thought it only fair to give the rakshasa a taste of her own medicine.
Huge claws grabbed the rakshasa and pulled it in. The rakshasa struggled for several rounds, using Keldas’ staff to detonate fireball after fireball right into the dire bear’s jaws, with no regard for itself, friend, or foe that might be nearby. But with Diessa standing behind the bear with a wand of healing-- the bear was so big, in fact, its ass protruded a good 10 feet outside the blast of the fireball-- there was no escape. The rakshasa fell, at last.
Keldas scooped up his staff. “Let me show you how this is done!”
He summoned an angelic deva.
The deva casually killed the pit fiend with a backhand stroke and headed for the archon. “You’ve been very naughty, brother...”
The archon didn’t stick around for his punishment.
One by one, they mopped up their enemies until at last, only Imperagon was left, broken and beaten.
Wulf grabbed him roughly. “Who’s yer daddy?”
“Ashardalon,” Imperagon said. “Can’t you tell?”
“Not really,” Keldas said. “We’d heard Ashardalon was kind of tough...”
“Tell me what yer been doin’ with the souls of dwarves,” Wulf asked.
“Working to complete an artifact for myself.”
“What?”
“The Blade of Fiery Might.”
“Already got one.” Wulf said, shoving him away.
“What else can you tell us about Ashardalon?” Keldas asked.
“For the love of god,” Wulf said. “We just got done with one adventure, yer settin’ up the next one. Give it a friggin’ rest already.”
Imperagon ignored him. “He has been revitalizing himself!” The dwarf grinned and would have laughed, but wisely choked it off. Keldas’ face didn’t show the slightest tolerance for a sense of humor, let alone megalomaniacal dramatics.
“Revitalizing himself?” Keldas asked. His hands tightened on his staff.
“He found a... power source. In the Abyss. Something to restore his heart.”
“Yer know who destroyed that heart?” Wulf asked. He stood behind Keldas and pointed a silent, accusatory finger at him. HE DID! he mouthed.
The deva stepped forward. “Allow me to take Imperagon into custody.”
“I’m more the whackin’ persuasion, myself,” Wulf admitted.
“He is harmless now,” the deva said. “A proper welcome—and an impenetrable cell—has been prepared for him in the heavens.”
“All right, all right. I can agree to that.” Wulf said. “Just after I strip him naked and paint his ass blue.”
Wulf Ratbane
Adventurer
LORD OF THE IRON FORTRESS-- EPILOGUE
EPILOGUE
While the rest of the group scoured the tower for magic items and more traditional loot, Wulf was whistling a jaunty tune and shovelling a king’s ransom in pure adamantine ore into his portable hole.
He paused at a smaller mound of green baatorian steel.
“Demon-steel?” he thought. “Ferkit, I don’t care.” It joined the adamantine in the hole. Wulf rolled it up and stuffed the little velvet pouch in his belt. You wouldn’t know to look at him that he was carrying over 300,000 gold crowns’ worth of raw ore.
Which I can double or triple by working at the Forge! Wulf nearly hopped with excitement.
They returned home, but it was not long before the group split up. Wulf stayed on at the Forge, of course, and encouraged Dorn to expand his temple to Haela. He even allowed Keldas to build a wizard’s tower atop the mountain above.
Shorty felt a calling back to Ossington and took possession of Dyson’s old tower.
Karak went back to his temple, no doubt, to properly train his boy.
TWO YEARS PASS
Wulf got an unexpected visit from Karak.
“Well...” Karak said. “If you wouldn’t mind, I was hoping you would make a holy sword for me.”
“Let me see,” Wulf said. “Last time we were together yer abandoned me, then yer don’t say a word for two years, and now yer suddenly show up and yer askin’ ME to make yer holy sword?”
“Yes.”
“Just checking,” Wulf said. “Thanks for the vote of trust.”
Karak smiled. “Great! I hear you do good work here...”
“Only the best,” Wulf said. Indeed one of his earliest moves was to enchant his hammer, tongs, even the Forge itself, to greatly enhance his smithing abilities.
In due time he sent Karak a parcel containing a magnificent blade of green-hued steel.
**
Wulf chuckled to himself, but it didn't last long. The Old Man hounded him on a near daily basis. “You need to marry,” he said. “I will not allow you to be King unless you are willing to leave an heir...”
“Well...” Wulf began.
“A legitimate heir.” The Old Man rolled his eyes.
“Wives and babies aren’t for me,” Wulf said. “I don’t need that kind o’ vulnerability.”
FOUR YEARS PASS
Over the next couple of years Wulf, Dorn, and Keldas enjoyed some simple adventuring, enough to keep their skills fresh and to support the creation of a few new magic items.
Wulf himself had been VERY busy over the past four years. He had a nice black market in baatorian steel weapons, which of course necessitated certain dealings with the local Thieves’ Guild—though Wulf was suitably removed from the transactions through several middlemen. Of course, when the upright citizens of the area discovered the illicit trade, Wulf was more than happy to volunteer to crush the local Guild.
And then take it over.
“Maybe not King,” Wulf admitted. “But I’ll take Guildmaster.”
Wulf had slowly but steadily been attracting “his kind” of people to his banner. In addition to many smiths, spies, thieves, and other experts in his employ, he spent a good deal of his time training a loyal group of dwarven tunnel-fighters. The group spurred Wulf’s creativity at the forge as well, and he developed a fine chain shirt specifically for their use:
The simple secret to his “Dwarven Chain” was a single ring of adamantine joined by four rings of mithril. Strong, light, flexible, quiet, and comfortable. His own prototype shirt was enchanted with silence and shadow.
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to,” the Old Man told him one day. “You really ought to think about getting married. Diessa, you know...”
“Give it a rest, already. Yer got my money. Yer got a nice temple... Yer and Dorn both, plus all the rest...”
“Yes,” the Old Man said. “I can’t tell you how happy I was to see that you had commissioned... What was it? ‘An unspecified altar to a giant fist.’”
Wulf made the fist.
TEN YEARS PASS
Ten years of prosperity and peace—if one didn’t count the constant nagging of the Old Man. “You ready to marry yet?”
“No.”
“Okay... How about now?”
FIFTEEN YEARS PASS
In year fifteen, the Baron of Brindenford was assassinated.
Always one to see the silver lining, Wulf sought out the Old Man and found him in the temple with Diessa.
“NOW I am ready to marry,” Wulf announced. “Seems the baron had some enemies.”
“Let me guess,” the Old Man said. “The Baron’s daughter is ascending to leadership.”
“Aye. Good time for an alliance, right?”
“Out of the question. The baron’s daughter already has a suitor.”
“Son of a...” Wulf growled.
“What do you have against a good dwarf woman?” the Old Man asked.
Wulf looked at Diessa. “Well... There’s always room for concubines... What? What did I say?”
SEVENTEEN YEARS PASS
At last, the Old Man passed away.
Wulf got a little carried away in the ensuing celebrations, and in due time Diessa came to him with her own “happy news.”
“Yer ferkin’ kiddin’ me.”
They were married quickly, and in the natural way of such things, it wasn’t long before Wulf was ready to go adventuring again.
“I’ll go with you,” Diessa said.
For Wulf, it was a fate worse than death. Marriage was one thing, but at least with Diessa it wasn’t so bad: you didn’t really worry at night when your wife could cast holy word.
But a child? That had “plot device of the gods” written all over it.
He was trapped.
Screwed.
“Great!” Wulf said. “I was thinking maybe some deep dungeon with lots of dangerous, crumbling stone stairs.”
EPILOGUE
While the rest of the group scoured the tower for magic items and more traditional loot, Wulf was whistling a jaunty tune and shovelling a king’s ransom in pure adamantine ore into his portable hole.
He paused at a smaller mound of green baatorian steel.
“Demon-steel?” he thought. “Ferkit, I don’t care.” It joined the adamantine in the hole. Wulf rolled it up and stuffed the little velvet pouch in his belt. You wouldn’t know to look at him that he was carrying over 300,000 gold crowns’ worth of raw ore.
Which I can double or triple by working at the Forge! Wulf nearly hopped with excitement.
They returned home, but it was not long before the group split up. Wulf stayed on at the Forge, of course, and encouraged Dorn to expand his temple to Haela. He even allowed Keldas to build a wizard’s tower atop the mountain above.
Shorty felt a calling back to Ossington and took possession of Dyson’s old tower.
Karak went back to his temple, no doubt, to properly train his boy.
TWO YEARS PASS
Wulf got an unexpected visit from Karak.
“Well...” Karak said. “If you wouldn’t mind, I was hoping you would make a holy sword for me.”
“Let me see,” Wulf said. “Last time we were together yer abandoned me, then yer don’t say a word for two years, and now yer suddenly show up and yer askin’ ME to make yer holy sword?”
“Yes.”
“Just checking,” Wulf said. “Thanks for the vote of trust.”
Karak smiled. “Great! I hear you do good work here...”
“Only the best,” Wulf said. Indeed one of his earliest moves was to enchant his hammer, tongs, even the Forge itself, to greatly enhance his smithing abilities.
In due time he sent Karak a parcel containing a magnificent blade of green-hued steel.
**
Wulf chuckled to himself, but it didn't last long. The Old Man hounded him on a near daily basis. “You need to marry,” he said. “I will not allow you to be King unless you are willing to leave an heir...”
“Well...” Wulf began.
“A legitimate heir.” The Old Man rolled his eyes.
“Wives and babies aren’t for me,” Wulf said. “I don’t need that kind o’ vulnerability.”
FOUR YEARS PASS
Over the next couple of years Wulf, Dorn, and Keldas enjoyed some simple adventuring, enough to keep their skills fresh and to support the creation of a few new magic items.
Wulf himself had been VERY busy over the past four years. He had a nice black market in baatorian steel weapons, which of course necessitated certain dealings with the local Thieves’ Guild—though Wulf was suitably removed from the transactions through several middlemen. Of course, when the upright citizens of the area discovered the illicit trade, Wulf was more than happy to volunteer to crush the local Guild.
And then take it over.
“Maybe not King,” Wulf admitted. “But I’ll take Guildmaster.”
Wulf had slowly but steadily been attracting “his kind” of people to his banner. In addition to many smiths, spies, thieves, and other experts in his employ, he spent a good deal of his time training a loyal group of dwarven tunnel-fighters. The group spurred Wulf’s creativity at the forge as well, and he developed a fine chain shirt specifically for their use:
The simple secret to his “Dwarven Chain” was a single ring of adamantine joined by four rings of mithril. Strong, light, flexible, quiet, and comfortable. His own prototype shirt was enchanted with silence and shadow.
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to,” the Old Man told him one day. “You really ought to think about getting married. Diessa, you know...”
“Give it a rest, already. Yer got my money. Yer got a nice temple... Yer and Dorn both, plus all the rest...”
“Yes,” the Old Man said. “I can’t tell you how happy I was to see that you had commissioned... What was it? ‘An unspecified altar to a giant fist.’”
Wulf made the fist.
TEN YEARS PASS
Ten years of prosperity and peace—if one didn’t count the constant nagging of the Old Man. “You ready to marry yet?”
“No.”
“Okay... How about now?”
FIFTEEN YEARS PASS
In year fifteen, the Baron of Brindenford was assassinated.
Always one to see the silver lining, Wulf sought out the Old Man and found him in the temple with Diessa.
“NOW I am ready to marry,” Wulf announced. “Seems the baron had some enemies.”
“Let me guess,” the Old Man said. “The Baron’s daughter is ascending to leadership.”
“Aye. Good time for an alliance, right?”
“Out of the question. The baron’s daughter already has a suitor.”
“Son of a...” Wulf growled.
“What do you have against a good dwarf woman?” the Old Man asked.
Wulf looked at Diessa. “Well... There’s always room for concubines... What? What did I say?”
SEVENTEEN YEARS PASS
At last, the Old Man passed away.
Wulf got a little carried away in the ensuing celebrations, and in due time Diessa came to him with her own “happy news.”
“Yer ferkin’ kiddin’ me.”
They were married quickly, and in the natural way of such things, it wasn’t long before Wulf was ready to go adventuring again.
“I’ll go with you,” Diessa said.
For Wulf, it was a fate worse than death. Marriage was one thing, but at least with Diessa it wasn’t so bad: you didn’t really worry at night when your wife could cast holy word.
But a child? That had “plot device of the gods” written all over it.
He was trapped.
Screwed.
“Great!” Wulf said. “I was thinking maybe some deep dungeon with lots of dangerous, crumbling stone stairs.”
Last edited:
Samnell
Explorer
Re: LORD OF THE IRON FORTRESS-- EPILOGUE
Wulf's a family man. That's really kind of sad. I had these pictures of him as one of those legendary... erm, heroes that didn't leave behind anything but the memory of his deeds.
So I take it we're not seeing Bastion of Broken Souls?
Edit, nevermind. I think I just recognized the hook. Guess I'm slow on holy days.
Edit2: Nevermind again. Reading the thread title is nice.
Wulf's a family man. That's really kind of sad. I had these pictures of him as one of those legendary... erm, heroes that didn't leave behind anything but the memory of his deeds.
So I take it we're not seeing Bastion of Broken Souls?
Edit, nevermind. I think I just recognized the hook. Guess I'm slow on holy days.
Edit2: Nevermind again. Reading the thread title is nice.
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Piratecat
Sesquipedalian
Re: Re: LORD OF THE IRON FORTRESS-- EPILOGUE
Someone - and I'm not naming any names, mind you - might be recruiting him into his game when he moves from Chicago to Rhode Island in a couple of weeks. Or so rumor has it. You'd have to ask Wulf.
*whistles aimlessly while looking around innocently*
Speaking of which, this fight - and the resulting writeup - was freakin' brilliant. I'm in awe. I'd welcome any commentary by Dinkeldog regarding those battles!
Spatula said:
Someone - and I'm not naming any names, mind you - might be recruiting him into his game when he moves from Chicago to Rhode Island in a couple of weeks. Or so rumor has it. You'd have to ask Wulf.
*whistles aimlessly while looking around innocently*
Speaking of which, this fight - and the resulting writeup - was freakin' brilliant. I'm in awe. I'd welcome any commentary by Dinkeldog regarding those battles!
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