Sunday, October 4, 2009
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
The Green Asp strikes
Khel grabbed the arse of the young serving wench that kept sidling past him on every occasion, accidentally brushing up her ample bosom across the back of the young Nobles head. The young girl turned her young face, framed by a mane of wild blonde hair and smiled at Khel continuing on her way to the next table. It had been a week of travel and separation from his squire anDrok but he could still hear the impertinent youth speaking his mind and reminding his Lord not to trust women. Khel smiled, not for the young woman or her wanton wares, but for the embarassement that he could cause his squire if he were here. He would have set upon reminding the young anDrok that despite his protestations of not trusting women he was less immune to their loins than his Lord once they had set their claws into him. Khel took perverse pleasure in knowing he could have likely influenced the young girl into fawning over his squire as he left the Inn just outside of the Vladryan Bridge.
Khel ran his hands along the ancient stone lamenting that he was leaving his homeland. The Dwarven hewn stone had seen many great leaders and battles. To Khel the Vladryan Bridge was known for a great battle in 924FE that saw the new Prince Dekran of Iluria turn after crossing the grand bridge to face thousands of Drakine warriors with but a few hundred knights and warriors of his own. That single momentous battle was a turning point giving Dekran time to escape, make his way to Cyradon and be crowned emperor.
The road wound easily but steadily upward towards The Stone Tree which marked the western edge of Fellburg. Khel had been near here once before but had never visited the most holy of Druid’s sites in all the world. Approaching closer Khel dismounted from his horse whose hooves seemed inordinately loud on the cobblestone road. The Druids of the Stone Tree as they were called encircled the great tree protectively as the young noble and Ulronai approached, themselves feeling the awe and reverence that the tree commanded. The Stone Tree was a living, growing tree similar to an ancient oak but made of stone. The trunk and branches were grey, granite-like stone with leaves, known as leafstone that were highly sought after. The Leafstone while green in the summer would deepen to a red, yellow, or gold in autumn before falling. Many Druids and followers had been gifted the special talismans of protection and luck that were coveted by all.
It would be a few days yet but the small group could see the castle that was the capital of Fellburg. Fellburg, or High Fellburg had once been an independent grand duchy but had been beholden now to Thurgandia for nearly 1,500 years. The House of Mandelhar, the dukes of Fellburg no longer were much concerned however content to rule their farmers, hunters, and sheperds from Gothar Grenn and collect tax revenues to fill their coffers. The current liege-lord, Duke Lambrett, was more concerned with collecting beautiful paintings than concern himself with the art of war, often hiring adventuring groups to bring him long-lost paintings or books. So much was his disdain for the military that he had asked his fiery spirited daughter, Vanda to take over the paltry forces that he had let deteriorate.
Khel noted the guards that snapped to attention as he and Dror neared the castle proper as the last foray here the young noble could have easily gone straight through to the doors of the castle without having been challenged. Stating his name and purpose Khel yet again had to vouch for the Ulronai and be responsible for his actions.
It had been weeks now and Khel continued to ride out with Vanda’s guards in the morning, practising his swordsmanship, riding and long bow skills now that he had the time. He knew that establishing connections in Gothar Grenn was taking time away from the travel he knew they must eventually undertake into the mountains to the North but they still were beholden to the Elf for his guidance in leading them to the Rod.
Chopping violently at the oak practise post Vanda’s Master of Arms, Telren, approached with two wooden swords. His smile was unmistakable despite the violent scar that ran from his right eye through to his chin, plainly visible through his coarse salt and pepper beard that refused to grow where the skin still bulged angrily. “Hah, Despite your best efforts I think the post wins yet my Lord”.
Grunting as he worked his sword free of his latest chop that had embedded itself deeply into the grain of the wood Khel replied, “Damn thing. No matter how many times I scorn it this post just won’t yield It’s just like that damnable Lord Victor Villar.”
“Ah yes, my Lord. You then aware that he is in Gothar Grenn to visit yet again are you not?”
“Damn you man, say again. Victor Villar is Here?”
“Yes, my Lord and quite taken with riding with my Lady Vanda if I hear tell correctly. They’ll both be at dinner at the Dukes table tomorrow evening. As it so happens I believe Count Villar and Lady Vanda expect you as a Rhennigar noble to attend as well.”
Confused at the presence of Count Victor Villar, the young Noble considered the reasons why the Count and Vanda would actually want to see him. Surely, Victor knew that he had captured his charge Verak and was seething to exact his revenge on the Duke. It made no sense.
Count Victor Villar stroked his grande moustaches as he saw the young Rhennigar Noble enter the room. He had been trying to convince the Lady Vanda to enjoy the sweet music from the exquisite musicians in her father’s permanent employ and dance with her among the many paintings and finery. Fully expecting Khel to come straight over and confront him the Count smiled knowingly as the young noble let himself be led astray by many of the young women looking to sink their barbs into young Noble flesh such as his. No doubt Khel was looking to sink his barb into their young flesh as well, if only for an evening or so. Walking over the Count placed his hand gently on the shoulder of Torodec Rhennigar’s son Khel, “Well, why don’t we give the beautiful young lady a rest my friend, shall we. I believe we have some things you wished to discuss.” Admonishing himself guiltily Khel turned to the Count with murder in his eyes.
Khel ground his hands together in frustration as his head felt ready to explode for the pressure. Not only was he not going to be able to exact his revenge, he had now put anDrok directly on the path to destruction. It had taken only a few moments to realize that the story that the Count now had the opportunity to relate to Khel was true. Verak had left the services and protection of the Count to take up a position with Lord Halvorn. An unusual move but one that Khel now understood fully. His enemy was, and always had been the Lord Halvorn.
It was over the course of the next month that Count Victor Villar began to see the man behind the Noble in Khel Rhennigar and decided to share his secret. The Asps would count the Rhennigar’s as a friendly family given Khel’s beliefs and while it had taken the month to convince him of his intentions the leader of the Green Asps, Count Victor Villar had convinced the young noble that his crusade to recover the Rod of Rulership would serve both the Rhennigar family purpose and that of the Asps. The Asps believed that an Emperor was needed as well but to send Khel back to try and redeem his name and lands in front of the King in Cyradon would be a fools errand at best and suicide at worst. It would allow some seeds that were recently sown with the Lady Darlene to grow as well which would certainly work to the Counts advantage in manipulating the young Rhennigar to the Asps bidding.
Khel looked over at the Count and Vanda as they spoke of some of the other items concerning the Asps. The green ring he now wore would indicate he was a member of the secret society along with the Green Asps unspoken motto but he had yet to learn beyond a few hooded individuals who the “friendly families” were. Knowing that he was not to be party to the discussion Khel turned his mind towards the trip he would be taking North in pursuit of the Artifact. It had been a long time since the Ulronai had shown his ugly face around, claiming everything from a sore back to working as excuses but it would be time to leave soon with or without his squire or the Elf. Some information first on the lands to the North however would certainly help him. He wondered if there were any beautiful women in the scollarly ranks that Duke Lambrett had on hand. If there were.... he was sure to find them.
Khel ran his hands along the ancient stone lamenting that he was leaving his homeland. The Dwarven hewn stone had seen many great leaders and battles. To Khel the Vladryan Bridge was known for a great battle in 924FE that saw the new Prince Dekran of Iluria turn after crossing the grand bridge to face thousands of Drakine warriors with but a few hundred knights and warriors of his own. That single momentous battle was a turning point giving Dekran time to escape, make his way to Cyradon and be crowned emperor.
The road wound easily but steadily upward towards The Stone Tree which marked the western edge of Fellburg. Khel had been near here once before but had never visited the most holy of Druid’s sites in all the world. Approaching closer Khel dismounted from his horse whose hooves seemed inordinately loud on the cobblestone road. The Druids of the Stone Tree as they were called encircled the great tree protectively as the young noble and Ulronai approached, themselves feeling the awe and reverence that the tree commanded. The Stone Tree was a living, growing tree similar to an ancient oak but made of stone. The trunk and branches were grey, granite-like stone with leaves, known as leafstone that were highly sought after. The Leafstone while green in the summer would deepen to a red, yellow, or gold in autumn before falling. Many Druids and followers had been gifted the special talismans of protection and luck that were coveted by all.
It would be a few days yet but the small group could see the castle that was the capital of Fellburg. Fellburg, or High Fellburg had once been an independent grand duchy but had been beholden now to Thurgandia for nearly 1,500 years. The House of Mandelhar, the dukes of Fellburg no longer were much concerned however content to rule their farmers, hunters, and sheperds from Gothar Grenn and collect tax revenues to fill their coffers. The current liege-lord, Duke Lambrett, was more concerned with collecting beautiful paintings than concern himself with the art of war, often hiring adventuring groups to bring him long-lost paintings or books. So much was his disdain for the military that he had asked his fiery spirited daughter, Vanda to take over the paltry forces that he had let deteriorate.
Khel noted the guards that snapped to attention as he and Dror neared the castle proper as the last foray here the young noble could have easily gone straight through to the doors of the castle without having been challenged. Stating his name and purpose Khel yet again had to vouch for the Ulronai and be responsible for his actions.
It had been weeks now and Khel continued to ride out with Vanda’s guards in the morning, practising his swordsmanship, riding and long bow skills now that he had the time. He knew that establishing connections in Gothar Grenn was taking time away from the travel he knew they must eventually undertake into the mountains to the North but they still were beholden to the Elf for his guidance in leading them to the Rod.
Chopping violently at the oak practise post Vanda’s Master of Arms, Telren, approached with two wooden swords. His smile was unmistakable despite the violent scar that ran from his right eye through to his chin, plainly visible through his coarse salt and pepper beard that refused to grow where the skin still bulged angrily. “Hah, Despite your best efforts I think the post wins yet my Lord”.
Grunting as he worked his sword free of his latest chop that had embedded itself deeply into the grain of the wood Khel replied, “Damn thing. No matter how many times I scorn it this post just won’t yield It’s just like that damnable Lord Victor Villar.”
“Ah yes, my Lord. You then aware that he is in Gothar Grenn to visit yet again are you not?”
“Damn you man, say again. Victor Villar is Here?”
“Yes, my Lord and quite taken with riding with my Lady Vanda if I hear tell correctly. They’ll both be at dinner at the Dukes table tomorrow evening. As it so happens I believe Count Villar and Lady Vanda expect you as a Rhennigar noble to attend as well.”
Confused at the presence of Count Victor Villar, the young Noble considered the reasons why the Count and Vanda would actually want to see him. Surely, Victor knew that he had captured his charge Verak and was seething to exact his revenge on the Duke. It made no sense.
Count Victor Villar stroked his grande moustaches as he saw the young Rhennigar Noble enter the room. He had been trying to convince the Lady Vanda to enjoy the sweet music from the exquisite musicians in her father’s permanent employ and dance with her among the many paintings and finery. Fully expecting Khel to come straight over and confront him the Count smiled knowingly as the young noble let himself be led astray by many of the young women looking to sink their barbs into young Noble flesh such as his. No doubt Khel was looking to sink his barb into their young flesh as well, if only for an evening or so. Walking over the Count placed his hand gently on the shoulder of Torodec Rhennigar’s son Khel, “Well, why don’t we give the beautiful young lady a rest my friend, shall we. I believe we have some things you wished to discuss.” Admonishing himself guiltily Khel turned to the Count with murder in his eyes.
Khel ground his hands together in frustration as his head felt ready to explode for the pressure. Not only was he not going to be able to exact his revenge, he had now put anDrok directly on the path to destruction. It had taken only a few moments to realize that the story that the Count now had the opportunity to relate to Khel was true. Verak had left the services and protection of the Count to take up a position with Lord Halvorn. An unusual move but one that Khel now understood fully. His enemy was, and always had been the Lord Halvorn.
It was over the course of the next month that Count Victor Villar began to see the man behind the Noble in Khel Rhennigar and decided to share his secret. The Asps would count the Rhennigar’s as a friendly family given Khel’s beliefs and while it had taken the month to convince him of his intentions the leader of the Green Asps, Count Victor Villar had convinced the young noble that his crusade to recover the Rod of Rulership would serve both the Rhennigar family purpose and that of the Asps. The Asps believed that an Emperor was needed as well but to send Khel back to try and redeem his name and lands in front of the King in Cyradon would be a fools errand at best and suicide at worst. It would allow some seeds that were recently sown with the Lady Darlene to grow as well which would certainly work to the Counts advantage in manipulating the young Rhennigar to the Asps bidding.
Khel looked over at the Count and Vanda as they spoke of some of the other items concerning the Asps. The green ring he now wore would indicate he was a member of the secret society along with the Green Asps unspoken motto but he had yet to learn beyond a few hooded individuals who the “friendly families” were. Knowing that he was not to be party to the discussion Khel turned his mind towards the trip he would be taking North in pursuit of the Artifact. It had been a long time since the Ulronai had shown his ugly face around, claiming everything from a sore back to working as excuses but it would be time to leave soon with or without his squire or the Elf. Some information first on the lands to the North however would certainly help him. He wondered if there were any beautiful women in the scollarly ranks that Duke Lambrett had on hand. If there were.... he was sure to find them.
Monday, September 28, 2009
The trouble with money
While in town, Dror was determined to try to repay Umak the money his father owed to him. He quickly found a job with a caravan and with Lord Khel's permission he left for a time travelling with a caravan. The trip was uneventful and after 30 days Dror was able to return to town with 5 Gold Crowns to his name. Still not enough to pay Umak, but a start.
He considered going to Umak immediately with the partial payment but decided that it would be best to come to him with the full 20 Gold pieces in payment. Discussing his situation with Lord Khel on his return, the good lord offered his services to Dror to help him with doubling his money.
"It will be easy Dror. I know a good gambling hall. You can have your money multiplied several times if you are lucky. Maybe even have some left over for yourself when you are done. I've done this before and I'll help you pick a good sucker that we can ply with liquor. Once he's good and drunk, it will be easy to take, er win his money fair and square."
It sounded like a good idea and so inspite of his better judgement, Dror soon found himself in the gambling hall and shortly therafter leaving with his entire 5 gold crowns gone.
"By the God's!" said Khel as they left. "I've never seen a man drink so much. It was like he got more sober as he drank. Sorry Dror, I tried. Hey let me buy you a drink........."
Dror took on a job in town hauling bricks at a construction site. After a week, he threw his back out after he tried carrying too big a load. He now had only one gold crown to his name and was laid up in a bed (if you could call it that) for a while at a rat infested inn near the docks.
One night as he lay sleeping the city guard entered the inn looking for "That dirty Ulronai" and found him lying in his cot. "The Duke has instituted a tax on all Ulronai in the city. It's your duty to pay our lord his fair due."
Dror considered the situation carefully. Four city guards vs. him with a bad back and only his hunting knife handy. His sword under his bed would be of no help. He could probably take one or two of them down but the room was too small to manuever in and his back was a liablity. He handed them his last gold crown and rolled over.
Broke again.
He considered going to Umak immediately with the partial payment but decided that it would be best to come to him with the full 20 Gold pieces in payment. Discussing his situation with Lord Khel on his return, the good lord offered his services to Dror to help him with doubling his money.
"It will be easy Dror. I know a good gambling hall. You can have your money multiplied several times if you are lucky. Maybe even have some left over for yourself when you are done. I've done this before and I'll help you pick a good sucker that we can ply with liquor. Once he's good and drunk, it will be easy to take, er win his money fair and square."
It sounded like a good idea and so inspite of his better judgement, Dror soon found himself in the gambling hall and shortly therafter leaving with his entire 5 gold crowns gone.
"By the God's!" said Khel as they left. "I've never seen a man drink so much. It was like he got more sober as he drank. Sorry Dror, I tried. Hey let me buy you a drink........."
Dror took on a job in town hauling bricks at a construction site. After a week, he threw his back out after he tried carrying too big a load. He now had only one gold crown to his name and was laid up in a bed (if you could call it that) for a while at a rat infested inn near the docks.
One night as he lay sleeping the city guard entered the inn looking for "That dirty Ulronai" and found him lying in his cot. "The Duke has instituted a tax on all Ulronai in the city. It's your duty to pay our lord his fair due."
Dror considered the situation carefully. Four city guards vs. him with a bad back and only his hunting knife handy. His sword under his bed would be of no help. He could probably take one or two of them down but the room was too small to manuever in and his back was a liablity. He handed them his last gold crown and rolled over.
Broke again.
A Debt Owed
As the adventurers arrived at Hagen, Dror noticed a small caravan with perhaps 50 Ulronai camped just outside the city gates. Excusing himself from Lord Khel for a time, he visited his kinsmen for the rest of the day, participating in a meal and staying with them for an evening of dancing and fellowship. It had been a long time since he had been amongst his people and while he was with them, he felt a momentary release from the regular oppression that he had felt from other peoples he had met during his travels. Perhaps, he mused, that this was the way he should live, amongst his people but then he remembered his duty to Lord Khel and pushed the thought aside.
There was an elder among these Ulronai named Umack that he approached. Perhaps he could tell him something of the legend of the Bloodlock that he had heard elsewhere. "Greetings Uncle, I am Dror Shraga. I am indebted to your for your hospitality."
"Shraga? Your father is Dram?"
"Yes Uncle....."
"Well you are certainly indebted to me then. Your father owes me 20 gold Dracmas."
"I am sorry to hear that and my father has passed on some years ago."
"Yes I know and I am not impressed with your family Dror. It seems that none of your family is interested in repaying the debt owed." The old man stared at Dror, expecting a reply.
"Uncle, I am embarrased. I have no money that I can give you....."
"That's the same excuse your cousin used. The whole lot of you are useless! Shraga, you are not welcome here. I am not interested in extending you any more hospitality. You know what needs to be done."
"Indeed Uncle. I am in town for a while. I will see what I can do to repay the debt."
"Your cousin said the same thing last time I saw him. I never saw him again. Get out of here you useless excuse for an Ulronai!"
There was an elder among these Ulronai named Umack that he approached. Perhaps he could tell him something of the legend of the Bloodlock that he had heard elsewhere. "Greetings Uncle, I am Dror Shraga. I am indebted to your for your hospitality."
"Shraga? Your father is Dram?"
"Yes Uncle....."
"Well you are certainly indebted to me then. Your father owes me 20 gold Dracmas."
"I am sorry to hear that and my father has passed on some years ago."
"Yes I know and I am not impressed with your family Dror. It seems that none of your family is interested in repaying the debt owed." The old man stared at Dror, expecting a reply.
"Uncle, I am embarrased. I have no money that I can give you....."
"That's the same excuse your cousin used. The whole lot of you are useless! Shraga, you are not welcome here. I am not interested in extending you any more hospitality. You know what needs to be done."
"Indeed Uncle. I am in town for a while. I will see what I can do to repay the debt."
"Your cousin said the same thing last time I saw him. I never saw him again. Get out of here you useless excuse for an Ulronai!"
Sunday, September 27, 2009
I hate boats!
anDrok rocked back and forth trying to mimic the movements that the young deck swab had shown him. Down here in bowels of the ship where Verak and he were stationed however the perpetual dark mustiness, accented by the pungent smell of sweat and puke had the Rhennigar squire spilling his guts. The first day had been bad to say the least. anDrok cared little for his prisoner now for he felt that he was going to die as his mouth burned with the simple yellow bile from his empty stomach.
Day 2 aboard the cursed ship and no relief was to be found for the weather had turned violent and now as anDrok lay with his body prone on the planks of the rolling ship his pale face plastered to the floor as the salt caked the side of his face from the water that would now and again spill through from somewhere in the darkness above. Seeing the rugged but small bare feet of a true sailer standing over him, Pip the young swab poured some fiery liquid into the side of the squire’s mouth. “Here, we call this Grog. You Nobles might call it rum but out here it’s still Grog.”
Sapped of energy anDrok felt the dark liquid trickling down from his lips to the path down to his innerds. “My thanks to you Pip but while yesterday I felt I should surely die.”
“Are you better today?”
“Today I simply pray that I will die! I shudder to think what that Grog of yours will do when it comes back to land on the floor as it will inevitably do.”
“What of your friend, how does he fare?”
“No friend of mine is he. A prisoner of sorts.”
For the first time in many hours anDrok sat up peeling his salty cheek from the floor while still feeling the wrenching burn of both overused muscles used to wretch and the better feeling of rum in his empty belly.
Whether the rum or his curses to the skies anDrok felt a whole lot better. It was day seven of their journey as the squire looked out to see the flags of Hagen flying in the distance in their approach to the eastern harbour. The sailors were earning their keep moving about, the creaking rigging and sun blistered ship like flies on a new kill. The ponderous anchor hit the water with a resounding splash pulling a large chain down to the bottom of the harbour with it. The Rhennigar squire looked around for his charge mentally berating himself for being so mesmerized by the workings of the sailing vessel. It would not be long now he thought. A quick stop in Hagen to re-supply and then a few days up the Southern Alahadrion River following Lake Lusarra to Cyradon....then the work would begin to have Verak sing like a songbird. Shit. Verak. Where was he?
anDrok grabbed the scruff of the hunched over sailer who thought he might be first to board one of the boats over to the city of Hagen, “Not so fast Verak, it will take more than just a bit of subterfuge to get away from me!”
Not knowing that he was foreshadowing fate Verak and anDrok moved through the town on their way to saddle up for the ride to Cyradon. It had been difficult to garner all the supplies given the Rhennigar squire’s affiliation with Khel. Turning the corner to the stables two powerful looking men blocked the road looking directly at anDrok, “Let the vermin go. He’s ours now”
Looking around anDrok pulled his sword as he realized that two more were coming in at him from behind.
As anDrok lay bleeding onto the flagstone he cursed the sailing vessel that had left him weaker than he should have been. While he had injured each of the four would be assasins quite grievously he had still gone down before finishing the job. Now who would want Verak? This was strange as someone with many a gold “Dolar” as they referred to them in the Palatinate, would be behind this.
Sitting up in bed the young squire finally felt up to searching for his escapee. It had been a week since they had landed in Hagen and it was now time to ignore the pain that still throbbed in his side and figure out where this slimy snake was.
It had taken another three weeks but anDrok finally had found his prey. The gruff looking man in front of anDrok wiped his grease laden hands on the sides of his apron which did to clean them or the filth that lay caked on the seams of the abused clothing. Placing a thick finger in one ear to itch it casually the cook looked at his pinky now adorning an ochre coloured chunk. Flicking it casually he looked at the Noble in front of him. “My Lord, you must understand that I am but a lowly cook in the service of Lord Halwen. I know nothing of some vermin named Verak that would be newly come here.”
anDrok pulled his sword slowly from it’s sheath allowing the eyes of the grimy cook to take in it’s sheer power. “I will chop you up into hash and throw you into that pot if you don’t tell me what I want to know. It will likely improve the taste of the filth you serve.”
Scratching his stubbled chin the cook gave anDrok the information he needed.
“Finally”, murmured the squire, “Verak in the dungeons of Lord Halwen.” What would Khel have me do now?
Day 2 aboard the cursed ship and no relief was to be found for the weather had turned violent and now as anDrok lay with his body prone on the planks of the rolling ship his pale face plastered to the floor as the salt caked the side of his face from the water that would now and again spill through from somewhere in the darkness above. Seeing the rugged but small bare feet of a true sailer standing over him, Pip the young swab poured some fiery liquid into the side of the squire’s mouth. “Here, we call this Grog. You Nobles might call it rum but out here it’s still Grog.”
Sapped of energy anDrok felt the dark liquid trickling down from his lips to the path down to his innerds. “My thanks to you Pip but while yesterday I felt I should surely die.”
“Are you better today?”
“Today I simply pray that I will die! I shudder to think what that Grog of yours will do when it comes back to land on the floor as it will inevitably do.”
“What of your friend, how does he fare?”
“No friend of mine is he. A prisoner of sorts.”
For the first time in many hours anDrok sat up peeling his salty cheek from the floor while still feeling the wrenching burn of both overused muscles used to wretch and the better feeling of rum in his empty belly.
Whether the rum or his curses to the skies anDrok felt a whole lot better. It was day seven of their journey as the squire looked out to see the flags of Hagen flying in the distance in their approach to the eastern harbour. The sailors were earning their keep moving about, the creaking rigging and sun blistered ship like flies on a new kill. The ponderous anchor hit the water with a resounding splash pulling a large chain down to the bottom of the harbour with it. The Rhennigar squire looked around for his charge mentally berating himself for being so mesmerized by the workings of the sailing vessel. It would not be long now he thought. A quick stop in Hagen to re-supply and then a few days up the Southern Alahadrion River following Lake Lusarra to Cyradon....then the work would begin to have Verak sing like a songbird. Shit. Verak. Where was he?
anDrok grabbed the scruff of the hunched over sailer who thought he might be first to board one of the boats over to the city of Hagen, “Not so fast Verak, it will take more than just a bit of subterfuge to get away from me!”
Not knowing that he was foreshadowing fate Verak and anDrok moved through the town on their way to saddle up for the ride to Cyradon. It had been difficult to garner all the supplies given the Rhennigar squire’s affiliation with Khel. Turning the corner to the stables two powerful looking men blocked the road looking directly at anDrok, “Let the vermin go. He’s ours now”
Looking around anDrok pulled his sword as he realized that two more were coming in at him from behind.
As anDrok lay bleeding onto the flagstone he cursed the sailing vessel that had left him weaker than he should have been. While he had injured each of the four would be assasins quite grievously he had still gone down before finishing the job. Now who would want Verak? This was strange as someone with many a gold “Dolar” as they referred to them in the Palatinate, would be behind this.
Sitting up in bed the young squire finally felt up to searching for his escapee. It had been a week since they had landed in Hagen and it was now time to ignore the pain that still throbbed in his side and figure out where this slimy snake was.
It had taken another three weeks but anDrok finally had found his prey. The gruff looking man in front of anDrok wiped his grease laden hands on the sides of his apron which did to clean them or the filth that lay caked on the seams of the abused clothing. Placing a thick finger in one ear to itch it casually the cook looked at his pinky now adorning an ochre coloured chunk. Flicking it casually he looked at the Noble in front of him. “My Lord, you must understand that I am but a lowly cook in the service of Lord Halwen. I know nothing of some vermin named Verak that would be newly come here.”
anDrok pulled his sword slowly from it’s sheath allowing the eyes of the grimy cook to take in it’s sheer power. “I will chop you up into hash and throw you into that pot if you don’t tell me what I want to know. It will likely improve the taste of the filth you serve.”
Scratching his stubbled chin the cook gave anDrok the information he needed.
“Finally”, murmured the squire, “Verak in the dungeons of Lord Halwen.” What would Khel have me do now?
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
A Noble in Exile
Khel bid anDrok good luck and safe travels, “Fare thee well my friend and squire both. You’re loyalty is appreciated and will not be forgotten.”
anDrok shuffled his feet... he was staring down at them in embarassement in front of both the elf Foloshal and the turncoat Ulronai, “Sir, I should have protected you better from the filth. I swear that I will bring in this criminal Verak and ensure that the Lord Palatinate recognizes your innocence in this affair with the Lady Darlene. Some Lady, the beautiful wenche’s loins are probably wet each night with a different man’s seed.”
Khel removed his worn glove slowly and then violently smacked his Squire, “Get you gone, I’ll hear no more of such talk. She may be all that you say but she is a Lord none the less and is to be given the respect she deserves...plus..who knows...I may have sired an heir.” With a peal of laughter the young Noble let his squire scramble ungainly across the gang plank to the large vessel waiting to take them to the port that would still see much overland travel to Cyradon. anDrok may have looked imposing with rippling muscles pulling his sword but the sight of him crawling like some beast at the fair to where Verak was chained was laughable at best if a bit comical for the waiting trio.
Khel thought back over the last couple weeks and all that had happened so quickly. Everything had gone according to plan....they had convinced the Lady Darlene that Khel still loved her, albeit even he didn’t know whether that was true or not. Dror had scared the vixen out of her wits and Khel had come in for the rescue. Then the idot Ulronai made his big mistake, he stole the beautiful Lord’s jewels...no that wasn’t the mistake actually...that would have been fine with Khel...it was the fact that the Ulronai felt guilty afterward and confessed. Now that was stupid!!
The chain of chaotic events that followed was one for a Bard’s lewd tales in a smoky tavern as the Lady Darlene found out the truth and accused the young Lord of raping her.
What a farce. The joker’s court that ensued would hear nothing of the fact that they had copulated at least a half dozen times that evening...well maybe only twice but this is my lewd tavern story afterall...Lord B would hear nothing of it after being convinced by the plunging cleavage that Khel was guilty. Now an exile he could not even claim his heradic rights now that his father had been killed.
Torn with conflicting emotions the young noble had not pulled out all the stops to ensure his innocence. Events had conspired against him as news of his father's death had come while preparing to defend himself....It was small consolation that they had not found Lord Torodec Rhennigar's family signet ring. It meant that it had perhaps not yet fallen to his, as yet, unknown enemy. It's power would help him bring justice to the assasins.
First however he was determined to get this rod of rulership with Foloshal. Certainly it could be used to overthrow this current government. More than ever Khel was convinced that the country needed an Emperor...and not one fabled to return....at some later date. North and East to the mountains that held ancient secrets...an adventure first...then Revenge!!
anDrok shuffled his feet... he was staring down at them in embarassement in front of both the elf Foloshal and the turncoat Ulronai, “Sir, I should have protected you better from the filth. I swear that I will bring in this criminal Verak and ensure that the Lord Palatinate recognizes your innocence in this affair with the Lady Darlene. Some Lady, the beautiful wenche’s loins are probably wet each night with a different man’s seed.”
Khel removed his worn glove slowly and then violently smacked his Squire, “Get you gone, I’ll hear no more of such talk. She may be all that you say but she is a Lord none the less and is to be given the respect she deserves...plus..who knows...I may have sired an heir.” With a peal of laughter the young Noble let his squire scramble ungainly across the gang plank to the large vessel waiting to take them to the port that would still see much overland travel to Cyradon. anDrok may have looked imposing with rippling muscles pulling his sword but the sight of him crawling like some beast at the fair to where Verak was chained was laughable at best if a bit comical for the waiting trio.
Khel thought back over the last couple weeks and all that had happened so quickly. Everything had gone according to plan....they had convinced the Lady Darlene that Khel still loved her, albeit even he didn’t know whether that was true or not. Dror had scared the vixen out of her wits and Khel had come in for the rescue. Then the idot Ulronai made his big mistake, he stole the beautiful Lord’s jewels...no that wasn’t the mistake actually...that would have been fine with Khel...it was the fact that the Ulronai felt guilty afterward and confessed. Now that was stupid!!
The chain of chaotic events that followed was one for a Bard’s lewd tales in a smoky tavern as the Lady Darlene found out the truth and accused the young Lord of raping her.
What a farce. The joker’s court that ensued would hear nothing of the fact that they had copulated at least a half dozen times that evening...well maybe only twice but this is my lewd tavern story afterall...Lord B would hear nothing of it after being convinced by the plunging cleavage that Khel was guilty. Now an exile he could not even claim his heradic rights now that his father had been killed.
Torn with conflicting emotions the young noble had not pulled out all the stops to ensure his innocence. Events had conspired against him as news of his father's death had come while preparing to defend himself....It was small consolation that they had not found Lord Torodec Rhennigar's family signet ring. It meant that it had perhaps not yet fallen to his, as yet, unknown enemy. It's power would help him bring justice to the assasins.
First however he was determined to get this rod of rulership with Foloshal. Certainly it could be used to overthrow this current government. More than ever Khel was convinced that the country needed an Emperor...and not one fabled to return....at some later date. North and East to the mountains that held ancient secrets...an adventure first...then Revenge!!
Friday, August 21, 2009
The learned One
The Learned One
I will yet prove my worthiness to my Elven brethren. I have been in the company of the Ulranai for far too long now and require a break to ensure my morals and beliefs are still on track.
Upon arrival in Tretha, Foloshal was excited to hear that the city has the largest college dedicated to magic in the region. The city itself has no walls so we entered safely and without too much scrutiny.
“Khel, I must head over to the College and complete some research , I’m sure with the size of this institute their library must be quite vast.”
And it will help me obtain some space from that blasted Ulronai…
“Well have fun Fol, please remember, knowing how distracted you can get during your research we depart in three days time!”
Foloshal walks to the grand entryway into the college. The grounds outside are metticalously kept with greenery, plants and flowers in abundance.
“This is marvelous! Finally, a more advanced, civilized people I can confer with and compare practices. I wonder how they maintain such a great garden, there must be many staff on hand to complete the required landscaping, trimming, watering and constant labor involved..”
Surprisingly, the entrance pathway was very quiet with not a soul around
“Maybe they do all this work with magic” mutters Foloshal.
Foloshal opens the large double doors, painted white they are the largest doors he has ever seen, yet they open with the ease of a feather and with little effort.
“ahemmm, can I help you” sates an older gentlemen, spectacles on the bridge of his nose and sitting very proper like at a desk, he greets Foloshal.
“Well yes, kind sir, well met. It is with great pleasure I announce that I , Foloshal Silverleaf of the Elves has arrived at your gates to visit your library. If you could be so kind as to escort me and show me around it would be greatly appreciated”
Snickering, the Human stands up. “Well met back atcha, however, despite the fact I feel great wonder and excitement about having met you and that Foloshal has arrived at our Great College, you still may not pass”
“Why forever not?”
“First off, your not a member of our College, nor are you a magician” “therefore, you shall not pass”
“But I am an Elf, I have Song magic powers that rival your Human Sorcerous ways. I will be but a moment..”
Foloshal begins to walk past the human, when he suddenly blows a whistle. Two very large thugs from around the corner, fully armed and looking quite nasty grab Foloshal from under the arms and begin to man handle him out he door.
“You barbarians,” yells Foloshal. “this is how you treat a guest at your college?”
“NO, cuz you aren’t a guest” responds the librarian. “Now please remove yourself from our grounds and take the leaves that have fallen off your cloak with you on the way out, now be gone or ill turn you into a toad”
With the grace of a human dancer (as in none) the humans toss Foloshal out the double doors and with a resounding boom, the doors shut in his face.
“Well, this is not acceptable” “A minor setback indeed.” “lets just see how great their magic really is.”
With that thought, Foloshal begins to sing a most beautiful song. Using his Sonorous Voice and with Perfect Pitch Foloshal casts a song spell; “Threne of Chameleon” , he buckles his Elven grey mantle cloak over his shoulders. Waiting for someone to open the doors, the opportunity arises and Foloshal simply walks into the library.
The Librarian, none the wiser, continues on his business and Foloshal walks past the man with ease.
Foloshal enters the library with awe. Still hidden with his spell and cloak he begins searching up and down the aisles for the correct tomb.
Many hours pass yet Foloshal finds absolutely nothing and his throat is sore from the constant humming required. There are simply too many volumes. This research could take years.
Suddenly, Foloshal hears a voice.
“Well, well, I have not seen an Elf in this building for many, many years. You’re a long ways from Elvenholme young elf, what is your name and purpose?”
Foloshal, knowing his Stealthy, Threne of Chameleon and his Grey mantle used in a combined fashion makes him nearly undetectable by any means is shocked. He looks around, and through the other row of books he sees an older gentlemen, wearing thick glasses , whith long white flowing hair and a magicians hat smiling at him.
“Well met young elf”
Foloshal, knowing that this man must be of some power, decides that the wisest course of action would be to parley at this point and hope for the best. He walks over to the gentlemen and introduces himself.
“Hello sir, my name if Foloshal Silverleaf, nephew to the King Tirionsathymar. “
“My name is Professor Amaratis, Dugal Whistlethrrop, head of the School of Enchantment and it is a great pleasure to meet you”
“What is it you are searching for ?” enquires Dugal.
“I am searching for specific knowledge, it is of no consequence” eludes Foloshal.
“Well, rather then sneaking about searching randomly, how about you come down to my estate for dinner, we discuss what your looking for and come up with a research plan?”
Excited, yet nervous as to the mages intent, Folohsal enthusiastically agrees.
Later that evening, Foloshal approaches the Estate of Dugal. It is a city type concept townhouse with well appointed gardens and fountains. The building is in pristine shape , freshly painted eves with many windows.
“Very fancy”
Foloshal knocks on the door.
Opening the door is a young woman, wearing Yellow robes with a beautiful smile.
“Welcome Foloshal, we have been expecting you” The young apprentice moves aside, lets Fol through the door and leads him into Dugals private smoking room.
“Ahhh..well met my friend, come, join me with some great Northern leaf and smoke with me”
After enjoying some fine Elvish wine, a few puffs of pipe weed they begin to discuss the business at hand.
“So Foloshal, I once lived in Elvenholme for a short while and spent some time studying your Culture and Spell Songs. Your uncle knows me very well “
“I do not recall this, states Foloshal. “after all, I am 303 years old and much older then yourself.”
“Really? I am 560 days young and can still outrun most of the girl’s working for me” winks Dugal.
“When I was a young lad, as part of my learning curriculum I was sent to Elvenholme, established some great friends and have a deep respect for your people and culture.”
“I am very impressed. It is wonderful to meet a human such as yourself. Learned, cultured and enjoy the finer things in life”
“Yes, but we must remember the poor people, the less fortunate people as well young elf, your kind has a tendency to forget them”
“But no matter, why are you in my library? What has brought you to our college ?”
“ I seek information on a certain Rod of power” “it was made by the elves some thousands of years ago and its knowledge is long past any history books I have read”
“What is this rod named? “
“ummm, wellll…”
“Out with it boy!” Leaning forward, staring intently into the Elves eyes Dugal states
“If I really wanted to know and get this info, or meant you any harm, the matter would have been decided long ago and I would know what I want and you would be none the wiser, likely caught by our Magic Guards and wards. We are a magical college and you think you can simply slip in and be invisible with a basic spell song? Now please, you can trust me”
“Yes indeed. It is a Rod of Rulership, said to have been broken into seven parts and spread throughout the lands. This Rod was formed to hold control over all the races and their armies. Its power is unparalleled and will provide the Elves the opportunity to once again unite the lands”
After having blurted this out, Flor couldn’t quite understand why he did it. Certainly a more restrained answer would have been prudent to a stranger…perhaps there were other powers influencing his mind.
“Well, well, this is very interesting young elf. I tutored under Tirion in Elvenholme for 5 years back in my youth and he failed to ever have mentioned this rod. It must be a well kept secret.
Im glad you trust me enough to divulge such information”
Smiling broadly, the old mage adjusts his spectacles and calls out to one of his beautiful servants.
“Please bring us our food in my study, we have much to discuss and please do not disturb us, as well, please prepare the guest room for Foloshal. Have a guest pass prepared for access to the library so the old librarian doesn’t boot him out. He likely will be with us for a few weeks so give him a year pass to be safe”
Many hours later, much wine is drank, cigars are smoked and magic; Philosophy, Elven history and the history of the college is discussed along with many other topics. The trust between the Elf and Mage grows exponentially and one could say they quickly have built a strong relationship, forming a unique bond.
“Here’s what I will do, I obviously have access to rare and ancient tombs and will bring you to a secret section of the library reserved for senior staff. In this place, if anywhere, would be our only chance of finding reference to the Rod. Please, stay in my guestroom for as long as it takes, my home is your home and we will research unit we find out more of this staff. ”
“This is an incredible honor you bestow upon my sir, my thanks to you and for your help. Please, I am curious, why would you offer your resources to help me with this ?”
“I am interested in this field and anything to do with magic especially ancient powerful relics such as this. I also am indebted to your uncle for his hospitality in the past and owe him at least this favor.”
Two weeks go by, the pair work together diligently. Over sixteen hours a day spent reading tombs in the secret section of the library.
“Well Foloshal, we have searched high and low and the only information we have found is that the last known holder of this rod is Thronick, a very powerful Evil mage/warrior who lived in the Silverthorne Mountains. It is such a scary place that nobody has visited his castle since his disappearance. It is unknown if he simply became recluse or was killed somehow. This journey will be fraught with danger and once you arrive, there is no telling what Evil you may encounter”
“Well, I’m up for the challenge, and I know just the people I can ask to assist me. I will go to this tower, retrieve whatever pieces and info I can and return to you so we can study the shards together”
“Good luck young elf, and remember, don’t be too hasty and be careful, one never knows what he will encounter in an abandoned Evil castle…”
“ I take my leave kind sir. Good day”
Leaving the estate, Foloshal suddenly recalls, “ oopsss I was to return back and meet Khel and the boys three days later, what was that , about two weeks ago? I wonder what trouble they have gotten into in my absence…
I will yet prove my worthiness to my Elven brethren. I have been in the company of the Ulranai for far too long now and require a break to ensure my morals and beliefs are still on track.
Upon arrival in Tretha, Foloshal was excited to hear that the city has the largest college dedicated to magic in the region. The city itself has no walls so we entered safely and without too much scrutiny.
“Khel, I must head over to the College and complete some research , I’m sure with the size of this institute their library must be quite vast.”
And it will help me obtain some space from that blasted Ulronai…
“Well have fun Fol, please remember, knowing how distracted you can get during your research we depart in three days time!”
Foloshal walks to the grand entryway into the college. The grounds outside are metticalously kept with greenery, plants and flowers in abundance.
“This is marvelous! Finally, a more advanced, civilized people I can confer with and compare practices. I wonder how they maintain such a great garden, there must be many staff on hand to complete the required landscaping, trimming, watering and constant labor involved..”
Surprisingly, the entrance pathway was very quiet with not a soul around
“Maybe they do all this work with magic” mutters Foloshal.
Foloshal opens the large double doors, painted white they are the largest doors he has ever seen, yet they open with the ease of a feather and with little effort.
“ahemmm, can I help you” sates an older gentlemen, spectacles on the bridge of his nose and sitting very proper like at a desk, he greets Foloshal.
“Well yes, kind sir, well met. It is with great pleasure I announce that I , Foloshal Silverleaf of the Elves has arrived at your gates to visit your library. If you could be so kind as to escort me and show me around it would be greatly appreciated”
Snickering, the Human stands up. “Well met back atcha, however, despite the fact I feel great wonder and excitement about having met you and that Foloshal has arrived at our Great College, you still may not pass”
“Why forever not?”
“First off, your not a member of our College, nor are you a magician” “therefore, you shall not pass”
“But I am an Elf, I have Song magic powers that rival your Human Sorcerous ways. I will be but a moment..”
Foloshal begins to walk past the human, when he suddenly blows a whistle. Two very large thugs from around the corner, fully armed and looking quite nasty grab Foloshal from under the arms and begin to man handle him out he door.
“You barbarians,” yells Foloshal. “this is how you treat a guest at your college?”
“NO, cuz you aren’t a guest” responds the librarian. “Now please remove yourself from our grounds and take the leaves that have fallen off your cloak with you on the way out, now be gone or ill turn you into a toad”
With the grace of a human dancer (as in none) the humans toss Foloshal out the double doors and with a resounding boom, the doors shut in his face.
“Well, this is not acceptable” “A minor setback indeed.” “lets just see how great their magic really is.”
With that thought, Foloshal begins to sing a most beautiful song. Using his Sonorous Voice and with Perfect Pitch Foloshal casts a song spell; “Threne of Chameleon” , he buckles his Elven grey mantle cloak over his shoulders. Waiting for someone to open the doors, the opportunity arises and Foloshal simply walks into the library.
The Librarian, none the wiser, continues on his business and Foloshal walks past the man with ease.
Foloshal enters the library with awe. Still hidden with his spell and cloak he begins searching up and down the aisles for the correct tomb.
Many hours pass yet Foloshal finds absolutely nothing and his throat is sore from the constant humming required. There are simply too many volumes. This research could take years.
Suddenly, Foloshal hears a voice.
“Well, well, I have not seen an Elf in this building for many, many years. You’re a long ways from Elvenholme young elf, what is your name and purpose?”
Foloshal, knowing his Stealthy, Threne of Chameleon and his Grey mantle used in a combined fashion makes him nearly undetectable by any means is shocked. He looks around, and through the other row of books he sees an older gentlemen, wearing thick glasses , whith long white flowing hair and a magicians hat smiling at him.
“Well met young elf”
Foloshal, knowing that this man must be of some power, decides that the wisest course of action would be to parley at this point and hope for the best. He walks over to the gentlemen and introduces himself.
“Hello sir, my name if Foloshal Silverleaf, nephew to the King Tirionsathymar. “
“My name is Professor Amaratis, Dugal Whistlethrrop, head of the School of Enchantment and it is a great pleasure to meet you”
“What is it you are searching for ?” enquires Dugal.
“I am searching for specific knowledge, it is of no consequence” eludes Foloshal.
“Well, rather then sneaking about searching randomly, how about you come down to my estate for dinner, we discuss what your looking for and come up with a research plan?”
Excited, yet nervous as to the mages intent, Folohsal enthusiastically agrees.
Later that evening, Foloshal approaches the Estate of Dugal. It is a city type concept townhouse with well appointed gardens and fountains. The building is in pristine shape , freshly painted eves with many windows.
“Very fancy”
Foloshal knocks on the door.
Opening the door is a young woman, wearing Yellow robes with a beautiful smile.
“Welcome Foloshal, we have been expecting you” The young apprentice moves aside, lets Fol through the door and leads him into Dugals private smoking room.
“Ahhh..well met my friend, come, join me with some great Northern leaf and smoke with me”
After enjoying some fine Elvish wine, a few puffs of pipe weed they begin to discuss the business at hand.
“So Foloshal, I once lived in Elvenholme for a short while and spent some time studying your Culture and Spell Songs. Your uncle knows me very well “
“I do not recall this, states Foloshal. “after all, I am 303 years old and much older then yourself.”
“Really? I am 560 days young and can still outrun most of the girl’s working for me” winks Dugal.
“When I was a young lad, as part of my learning curriculum I was sent to Elvenholme, established some great friends and have a deep respect for your people and culture.”
“I am very impressed. It is wonderful to meet a human such as yourself. Learned, cultured and enjoy the finer things in life”
“Yes, but we must remember the poor people, the less fortunate people as well young elf, your kind has a tendency to forget them”
“But no matter, why are you in my library? What has brought you to our college ?”
“ I seek information on a certain Rod of power” “it was made by the elves some thousands of years ago and its knowledge is long past any history books I have read”
“What is this rod named? “
“ummm, wellll…”
“Out with it boy!” Leaning forward, staring intently into the Elves eyes Dugal states
“If I really wanted to know and get this info, or meant you any harm, the matter would have been decided long ago and I would know what I want and you would be none the wiser, likely caught by our Magic Guards and wards. We are a magical college and you think you can simply slip in and be invisible with a basic spell song? Now please, you can trust me”
“Yes indeed. It is a Rod of Rulership, said to have been broken into seven parts and spread throughout the lands. This Rod was formed to hold control over all the races and their armies. Its power is unparalleled and will provide the Elves the opportunity to once again unite the lands”
After having blurted this out, Flor couldn’t quite understand why he did it. Certainly a more restrained answer would have been prudent to a stranger…perhaps there were other powers influencing his mind.
“Well, well, this is very interesting young elf. I tutored under Tirion in Elvenholme for 5 years back in my youth and he failed to ever have mentioned this rod. It must be a well kept secret.
Im glad you trust me enough to divulge such information”
Smiling broadly, the old mage adjusts his spectacles and calls out to one of his beautiful servants.
“Please bring us our food in my study, we have much to discuss and please do not disturb us, as well, please prepare the guest room for Foloshal. Have a guest pass prepared for access to the library so the old librarian doesn’t boot him out. He likely will be with us for a few weeks so give him a year pass to be safe”
Many hours later, much wine is drank, cigars are smoked and magic; Philosophy, Elven history and the history of the college is discussed along with many other topics. The trust between the Elf and Mage grows exponentially and one could say they quickly have built a strong relationship, forming a unique bond.
“Here’s what I will do, I obviously have access to rare and ancient tombs and will bring you to a secret section of the library reserved for senior staff. In this place, if anywhere, would be our only chance of finding reference to the Rod. Please, stay in my guestroom for as long as it takes, my home is your home and we will research unit we find out more of this staff. ”
“This is an incredible honor you bestow upon my sir, my thanks to you and for your help. Please, I am curious, why would you offer your resources to help me with this ?”
“I am interested in this field and anything to do with magic especially ancient powerful relics such as this. I also am indebted to your uncle for his hospitality in the past and owe him at least this favor.”
Two weeks go by, the pair work together diligently. Over sixteen hours a day spent reading tombs in the secret section of the library.
“Well Foloshal, we have searched high and low and the only information we have found is that the last known holder of this rod is Thronick, a very powerful Evil mage/warrior who lived in the Silverthorne Mountains. It is such a scary place that nobody has visited his castle since his disappearance. It is unknown if he simply became recluse or was killed somehow. This journey will be fraught with danger and once you arrive, there is no telling what Evil you may encounter”
“Well, I’m up for the challenge, and I know just the people I can ask to assist me. I will go to this tower, retrieve whatever pieces and info I can and return to you so we can study the shards together”
“Good luck young elf, and remember, don’t be too hasty and be careful, one never knows what he will encounter in an abandoned Evil castle…”
“ I take my leave kind sir. Good day”
Leaving the estate, Foloshal suddenly recalls, “ oopsss I was to return back and meet Khel and the boys three days later, what was that , about two weeks ago? I wonder what trouble they have gotten into in my absence…
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Reality Strikes
Dror had felt quite elated about his performance and how he had help Lord Khel with Lady Darlene. The elation was soon doused about 15 minutes afterwards when it suddenly struck Dror that he had just commited a crime; assault and robbery and of a noble person no less. A sickening knot formed in his guts as he realized further that he had also inadvertently reinforced the image that most people had of Ulronai; untrustworthy, criminal scum.
The sickening feeling intensified and Dror retched. He collapsed to the ground and in the silence of the woods, sobbed quietly as he lamented the fact that yet again, he had turned criminal for the sake of friendship. Why had he done this terrible thing? What was wrong with him? The only thing he truly understood was what he had done. There was no denying it, he was GUILTY..........
The sickening feeling intensified and Dror retched. He collapsed to the ground and in the silence of the woods, sobbed quietly as he lamented the fact that yet again, he had turned criminal for the sake of friendship. Why had he done this terrible thing? What was wrong with him? The only thing he truly understood was what he had done. There was no denying it, he was GUILTY..........
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
A Cunning Plan
It was a beautiful summer afternoon as Lady Darlene’s carriage made its way down the country lane. Every Tuesday, the Lady Darlene paid her respects to her great aunt Matilda who lived in the countryside just outside Bridgerton. Lord Khel had spent a great deal of time and money in the city of
Dror had been so anxious to help him with the plan and had insisted that he alone perform the dangerous parts without help from anyone else. Khel wasn’t at all sure how one person could possibly do it but Dror had insisted and Khel had gone against his better judgement and allowed it. It was risky but he really had no choice.
As the carriage rounded a corner, it was met by Dror standing in its path. Hardly an ambush really and Khel began to wonder about the wisdom of letting Dror do as he wanted and not helping him. Nothing to do now but watch….
The carriage did not slow and Khel could see the guards shouting at the Ulronai to stand aside as one of them took aim with a crossbow. “What’s that bloody Ulronai doing?! He’s going to get himself killed for sure!”
Khel saw Dror’s sword blade glint in the bright sunlight as it was drawn and he began what looked like a dance in the middle of the road. “What’s the bloody fool doing his sword drills now for? Does he think they will be impressed?” Khel could see that his plan was about to fail right from the beginning. "So much for this plan. If he dies, so be it! I'll have to figure something else out."
Dror’s bright blade flashed in the sunlight as he swooped and swung the blade in seemingly random directions, striking at invisible foes. Two of the guards fell from the carriage, the other two were suddenly slumped in their seats and the carriage came to a sudden stop as the Ulronai sheathed his sword and grabbed the horses’ reins. Dror hadn’t got within sword’s reach of the carriage and yet all the guards were either dead or unconscious.
“Nice trick.” Thought Khel as he spurred his horse over the ridge towards the carriage. “He must have used the sword drill as a diversion and then threw knives or something at them. Dror’s more talented than I thought….”
Khel could see that Dror was following through with the plan, he had dragged lady Darlene out of the carriage and was making as if to rob and possibly ravage her. He grinned as he saw Lady Darlene on her knees begging Dror to spare her. It was terribly undignified and she was stripping off her jewels and handing them to him. “Good work Dror, get her worked up so that I can come in and save the day….”
He was drawing his sword and about to give a shout as he bore down on the scene when Lady Darlene simply collapsed from fear onto the grass besides the roadway. There was no longer any need for the act so Dror simply waited for Khel to draw up beside him. Looking up sheepishly at Khel he said “I think I overdid it a little.”
“No, you did great Dror. This saves us having to do the sword fight part. No need for anyone else to get hurt. Boy, you sure killed those guards off fast.”
“They should not be dead, just knocked out for a while. You best do your part now and save the good lady.” Said Dror as he trotted towards to woods shouting over his shoulder, “I will do my part and run away in fear at the face of your mighty swordsmanship.”
Khel looked over at one of the guards, a large bruise on his forehead. He was still breathing. “How the….?” He started to say but was interrupted by the moaning of Lady Darlene. “My Lady. It is all right now.” He said. “I chased him off…..”
Arrival at Bridgerton
Dror sized up the town of
Dror had been coerced into doing the unthinkable; attempting to murder the good lord Khel all for the sake of a false friendship. The shame and guilt of this alone was enough. Khel would gladly have accepted his rightful execution for the horrible deed he had attempted. He had shamed his people, himself and everything he stood for. Instead of seeking justice for Dror’s actions, lord Khel had instead asked Dror for his help in escaping the Palantine army. As unworthy as he was Dror could not refuse the lord’s invitation. He vowed to himself then that he would redeem himself and his people by loyally serving lord Khel. It was the least he could do for the man who had shown him such grace.
It made no sense that Khel should consort with the likes of an Ulronai. Dror’s presence made the mere task of finding lodging and sustenance on their journey almost impossible. Dror had witnessed many times, heated arguments between the lord and some tavern or shop keeper, all for his sake. Dror saw the sack of gold coins (more than Dror was likely to possess during his lifetime) that lord Khel had paid the ship’s captain to take him on board. It made no sense that the lord would go to these great lengths for the sake of Dror. He was so unworthy and each act of kindness that lord Khel performed only served to make Dror more indebted to him and feel more guilty for being such a burden. Dror HAD to help lord Khel in any way he could. So far he had been nothing but a burden. He HAD to do something repay lord Khel.
Dror closed his eyes and muttered a prayer to the Gods. “Let me be of service…..”
Friday, August 7, 2009
Bon Voyage
Piercing through the muttering of the gruff sailors the young brash Noble’s voice rings out, “Let me tell you about the Ulronai”. As another voice tries to stymie his attempts to bolster the crew and instead send them floating away in a small rowboat, “Bah, we ain’ got no use for de Ulronai, Dere Dogs and dey be bad luck men. I say we heave ho this lot like flotsam.”
Khel smiled to himself at what he had originally taken as a difficult task in stamping out this mutiny but he was undeterred. In point of fact he was bolstered by the bumbling crewman who stumbled over his words and left the balance of the crew slack jawed as Khel continued, “You are possibly the greatest sailors of The Serpentine Sea and the Sea of Storms. Do you not know Red sky at night, sailor's delight Red sky in the morning, sailor's warning. Have we not smashed a bottle before setting sail? And thrown over those old pair of shoes just after launch. Do we not have a black cat on board and wear the gold hoops in our ears? Did we not all step aboard using our right foot first?”
“I tell you are the finest sailors I’ve seen. Is there anything to say that Ulronai are not like your rats. Is it not bad luck to see them leaving the ship? Eiye, I say, it is. The Ulronai is like your rats, Don’t let him leave but let him roam freely.”
The would-be leader of the mutiny turned on his heal, slack-jawed as the balance of his fellow mates were now slapping each other as braggards would do after a wonton conquest. None would now send the Rat on his way off the ship. Khel simply hoped they made it to Bridgerton without incident.
With that thought not long from the young Nobles mind and the crew still full of bravado a voice from the lookout yelled out “Sail Ho. Troubles matey!”
With a line of curses that would have curled the toenails of even the crudest of tradesmen the Captain pulled hard as the boat and crew adjusted automatically to the sharp turn as Khel and anDrok were sent flying into the gunwale. A faint cursing could be heard from the cargo holds below. The shout of “Pirates” had the ship sailing fast and hard.
Khel judged the speed of the other boat. It would not catch them. Time to bring the Ulronai up on deck.
Khel smiled to himself at what he had originally taken as a difficult task in stamping out this mutiny but he was undeterred. In point of fact he was bolstered by the bumbling crewman who stumbled over his words and left the balance of the crew slack jawed as Khel continued, “You are possibly the greatest sailors of The Serpentine Sea and the Sea of Storms. Do you not know Red sky at night, sailor's delight Red sky in the morning, sailor's warning. Have we not smashed a bottle before setting sail? And thrown over those old pair of shoes just after launch. Do we not have a black cat on board and wear the gold hoops in our ears? Did we not all step aboard using our right foot first?”
“I tell you are the finest sailors I’ve seen. Is there anything to say that Ulronai are not like your rats. Is it not bad luck to see them leaving the ship? Eiye, I say, it is. The Ulronai is like your rats, Don’t let him leave but let him roam freely.”
The would-be leader of the mutiny turned on his heal, slack-jawed as the balance of his fellow mates were now slapping each other as braggards would do after a wonton conquest. None would now send the Rat on his way off the ship. Khel simply hoped they made it to Bridgerton without incident.
With that thought not long from the young Nobles mind and the crew still full of bravado a voice from the lookout yelled out “Sail Ho. Troubles matey!”
With a line of curses that would have curled the toenails of even the crudest of tradesmen the Captain pulled hard as the boat and crew adjusted automatically to the sharp turn as Khel and anDrok were sent flying into the gunwale. A faint cursing could be heard from the cargo holds below. The shout of “Pirates” had the ship sailing fast and hard.
Khel judged the speed of the other boat. It would not catch them. Time to bring the Ulronai up on deck.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Count Thorgresh's Estattes
Khel stood in his stirrups stretching his back and rubbing his saddle sore arse after having ridden for seven days straight. Perhaps he could find some young chick to give him a rub down and more in Tretha? While the city of Tretha was not yet in view the signs of a bustling centre were already evident as wisps of smoke wafted over to the young noble time and again from the many farms that now dotted the rolling lush landscape. anDrok, Dror, Flor and Khel joined the masses that they saw gathering and walking East noting that there was now a proper cobblestone road headed towards the largest port city in the Mhendarian Palatinate.
Finally, cresting yet another of the rolling hills the spire of a few taller buildings could be made out as every step closer brought Tretha into focus. There were numerous homes in the area outside the town proper now and as the small group approached a rocky outcropping the glory of the cosmopolitan city came into view. Due East of their vantage amongst the jumble of buildings lay a branch of the Corwine River that separated the main body of land from the walled city section. At the many docs a dizzying maze of ropes, pulleys, masts and ships made for a confusing site adding to the excitement Khel felt about finally getting the port. The young noble’s eyes moved across the water and over the large stone and wood bridge that led into the city over the lifeblood of the city fixing on the two largest buildings. The one by its sheer size could only be the School of Magic, the Academy Velthune. At over two thousand years old it was home to some of the most ancient texts and most powerful mages in Turakia. Rumor had it that the School was the idea of a Wizard that had gone to Marcia to listen to Hargesh the Philosopher and his doctrines. Today the brick building stood out prominently on the East side of the city overlooking the ports and the masses going to and from the Western Bridge. The other building, newer in construction was most evidently a temple of some sort, glistening with its golden spires.
As Khel listens to anDrok complain behind him of all of the various peoples, smells and sounds the group enters the city of Tretha. The second largest city in Mhendaria, Tretha sits near the mount of the Corwine River on an excellent natural harbour. It’s one of the businest port citites in the WEsterlands, and a favourite of many merchants. The Duchesss Lusia Meralda, who rules this fief until her son Tovar comes of age and can succed his late father, has encouraged trade by keeping tariffs and money changing fees low.
Mages from all over the Wersterlands can be seen walking the streetsy as they come to Tretha to study at the Academy Velthune, a school of magic founded by the wizard of the same name nearly two thousand years agao. Academy students in distinctive gold robes are a common sight; their ivory robed professors rarer but accorded even more respect.
Finally in the Eastern sector Khel, anDrok, Florshal, and Dror settle in for the night at “Tretha’s Retreat”. A fine establishment that Khel insists upon given that he is having to foot the bill for the entire party. Their reliance on his money and resources does not concern him however. Easy come, easy go. Early the next morning as the bustling city reveals itself in it’s full glory Khel shoos out the lithe little blonde and her tawdry outfit before heading down to the Common Room to break his fast. Florshal misses nothing however and simply shakes his head and purses his lips. The job of refining these young humans from the animals they were was going to be a difficult task at best.
Smiling broadly Khel looks at Florshal and anDrok gregariously turning the wooden chair around to sit with his arms on the back, “Smile boys, we are in Tretha, one step closer to that slime bucket V and hidden from prying eyes here. Hey, Where’s Dror?”
anDrok piped up, “Hah, they refused to serve him so he had to go back up to his rooms.”
“Has he broken his fast”
“What do I care for the Ulronai? He stinks more than this bloody town. He can rot up there.”
Khel looked at anDrok as only a Lord looking upon his Squire could, “Bring him up some food, and I’ll hear no more complaints from you. I afford you latitude many others would hang for. Now go.”
Florshal looked at Khel, “I happen to agree with your Squire, the Ulronai does stink. I’m not sure what you have planned in terms of getting us to Bridgerton but I am headed to the Library this morning. I’ll be right back.” With a swirl of his fantastic cloak the meticulous elf took his leave although it would be much longer than either Khel or Flor would anticipate before they would meet up again.
anDrok, Dror, and Khel gather together later in the day after having spent the morning in quiet contemplation…or watching the young nubile women walk by depending on who were talking about when the decision is made to go see about hiring a boat to Bridgerton. After many failed attempts with the Ulronai in tow Khel comes across Captain Gofrey who, plyed with “Abondoned Farmhouse” wine agrees to passage provided the Dog lies in the cabin holds below the entire time. The ship would leave in two days.
Khel slapped his open palm on the table, “Where in the Gods names is Florshal? Stupid Elf knows we were supposed to get to Bridgerton and now the boat is leaving today!” Despite their efforts to find Flor, the Librarian at the Academy Velthune swears that the Elf was turned away.
Leaning on the gunwale of the large boat Khel shook his head as he looked at anDrok, “We had no choice, the boat was leaving, we have to get Verak. Who knows where Flor went. We had to leave him behind. At least we left him a note.”
“Yes, Lord Khel. Will there be anything else your Lord?”
“Ok, ok, I get the point Drok. Can you drop the ‘your Lorship’ stuff now, it’s getting annoying.”
“Whatever your Lorship shall want of his faithful Squire who is no better than a dog.”
“Good grief, we need to get you a woman or something…or maybe someone to beat on. Hey you may have an opportunity if this lot mutinies. Watch for it. I’m going to try and convince this lot that the Ulronai are simply misunderstood.”
Before the large Warrior, come Squire, has a chance to save his Lord from himself and his wagging tongue the fool is at balancing at the top of the prow, yelling for the crew to listen to him.
“Come Captain, Crew. Let me tell you of the plight of the Ulronai.”
With growls most of the crew turn to listen to the pompous ass that is accompanying them while anDrok takes up a more defensive position and loosens his sword in it’s sheath….this could turn ugly!!
Finally, cresting yet another of the rolling hills the spire of a few taller buildings could be made out as every step closer brought Tretha into focus. There were numerous homes in the area outside the town proper now and as the small group approached a rocky outcropping the glory of the cosmopolitan city came into view. Due East of their vantage amongst the jumble of buildings lay a branch of the Corwine River that separated the main body of land from the walled city section. At the many docs a dizzying maze of ropes, pulleys, masts and ships made for a confusing site adding to the excitement Khel felt about finally getting the port. The young noble’s eyes moved across the water and over the large stone and wood bridge that led into the city over the lifeblood of the city fixing on the two largest buildings. The one by its sheer size could only be the School of Magic, the Academy Velthune. At over two thousand years old it was home to some of the most ancient texts and most powerful mages in Turakia. Rumor had it that the School was the idea of a Wizard that had gone to Marcia to listen to Hargesh the Philosopher and his doctrines. Today the brick building stood out prominently on the East side of the city overlooking the ports and the masses going to and from the Western Bridge. The other building, newer in construction was most evidently a temple of some sort, glistening with its golden spires.
As Khel listens to anDrok complain behind him of all of the various peoples, smells and sounds the group enters the city of Tretha. The second largest city in Mhendaria, Tretha sits near the mount of the Corwine River on an excellent natural harbour. It’s one of the businest port citites in the WEsterlands, and a favourite of many merchants. The Duchesss Lusia Meralda, who rules this fief until her son Tovar comes of age and can succed his late father, has encouraged trade by keeping tariffs and money changing fees low.
Mages from all over the Wersterlands can be seen walking the streetsy as they come to Tretha to study at the Academy Velthune, a school of magic founded by the wizard of the same name nearly two thousand years agao. Academy students in distinctive gold robes are a common sight; their ivory robed professors rarer but accorded even more respect.
Finally in the Eastern sector Khel, anDrok, Florshal, and Dror settle in for the night at “Tretha’s Retreat”. A fine establishment that Khel insists upon given that he is having to foot the bill for the entire party. Their reliance on his money and resources does not concern him however. Easy come, easy go. Early the next morning as the bustling city reveals itself in it’s full glory Khel shoos out the lithe little blonde and her tawdry outfit before heading down to the Common Room to break his fast. Florshal misses nothing however and simply shakes his head and purses his lips. The job of refining these young humans from the animals they were was going to be a difficult task at best.
Smiling broadly Khel looks at Florshal and anDrok gregariously turning the wooden chair around to sit with his arms on the back, “Smile boys, we are in Tretha, one step closer to that slime bucket V and hidden from prying eyes here. Hey, Where’s Dror?”
anDrok piped up, “Hah, they refused to serve him so he had to go back up to his rooms.”
“Has he broken his fast”
“What do I care for the Ulronai? He stinks more than this bloody town. He can rot up there.”
Khel looked at anDrok as only a Lord looking upon his Squire could, “Bring him up some food, and I’ll hear no more complaints from you. I afford you latitude many others would hang for. Now go.”
Florshal looked at Khel, “I happen to agree with your Squire, the Ulronai does stink. I’m not sure what you have planned in terms of getting us to Bridgerton but I am headed to the Library this morning. I’ll be right back.” With a swirl of his fantastic cloak the meticulous elf took his leave although it would be much longer than either Khel or Flor would anticipate before they would meet up again.
anDrok, Dror, and Khel gather together later in the day after having spent the morning in quiet contemplation…or watching the young nubile women walk by depending on who were talking about when the decision is made to go see about hiring a boat to Bridgerton. After many failed attempts with the Ulronai in tow Khel comes across Captain Gofrey who, plyed with “Abondoned Farmhouse” wine agrees to passage provided the Dog lies in the cabin holds below the entire time. The ship would leave in two days.
Khel slapped his open palm on the table, “Where in the Gods names is Florshal? Stupid Elf knows we were supposed to get to Bridgerton and now the boat is leaving today!” Despite their efforts to find Flor, the Librarian at the Academy Velthune swears that the Elf was turned away.
Leaning on the gunwale of the large boat Khel shook his head as he looked at anDrok, “We had no choice, the boat was leaving, we have to get Verak. Who knows where Flor went. We had to leave him behind. At least we left him a note.”
“Yes, Lord Khel. Will there be anything else your Lord?”
“Ok, ok, I get the point Drok. Can you drop the ‘your Lorship’ stuff now, it’s getting annoying.”
“Whatever your Lorship shall want of his faithful Squire who is no better than a dog.”
“Good grief, we need to get you a woman or something…or maybe someone to beat on. Hey you may have an opportunity if this lot mutinies. Watch for it. I’m going to try and convince this lot that the Ulronai are simply misunderstood.”
Before the large Warrior, come Squire, has a chance to save his Lord from himself and his wagging tongue the fool is at balancing at the top of the prow, yelling for the crew to listen to him.
“Come Captain, Crew. Let me tell you of the plight of the Ulronai.”
With growls most of the crew turn to listen to the pompous ass that is accompanying them while anDrok takes up a more defensive position and loosens his sword in it’s sheath….this could turn ugly!!
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Count Thorgresh's Estates
Khel squinted as his eyes were not as keen as the blue elven eyes of Florshal. He scanned the horizon to the South noteing Count Anar Thorgrath’s estates in the distance realizing they were close to the Duke’s home. Soon enough the entire group however was resting comfortably telling the Duke their story of flight and now the search to find Verak.
The Duke is hospitable despite his reservations over the Uloronai’s presence but Khel is keenly aware that the aging friend of the Rennigar family and one of his favourite drinking partners (and sources of information) is nervous in the face of helping the young Lord when prying eyes could get him in trouble with his liege Lord Palentine.
Despite those reservations the group feels compelled to wait the arrival of Florshal who has remained behind at the Rennigar Estates doing some research and exploring the many books there. Keeping a constant vigil to ensure that the Royal Guard are not coming to Thorgrath in pursuit as well Florshal finally joins the group with a message from Torodac Rennigar, Khel’s Father who indicates the Renniger lands are under defacto martial law in pursuit of Khel.
With a sigh of relief Count Anar bids farewell to the troubled Lord he has counted as a good friend and confidant despite the difference in years between them.
Khel wiped his sword of the gore that clung to it like dripping sap. The bandits head that now lay crushed at his feet had not fared well in the battle. The young Lord moved to the lone survivor of the four would-be assassins that Florshal spotted long before they had a chance to sneak up on the group. “Who sent you dog? Your life is forefeit, might as well come clean at the end of days.”
Stuggling against the tight ropes that anDrok has secured him with the Assasin spits in Khel’s direction.
anDrok, ever unpredictable in such situations makes the unilateral decision to split the Assasin’s head in two. “That’ll teach ‘em to show some respect”.
A pragmatist like his father Khel turns away quickly and mounts his horse leaving Florshal and Dror open-mouthed at the quick and sudden turn of events. Florshal, more appalled at the ever increasing evidence that the rest of this party must be cured of its barbarism and Dror simply out of pitty that he had not done the same thing himself.
Alas, getting to the Southern coast of the Mhendarian Palatinate brings the group to a small fishing village. The simpletons in the town cower at the sight of the Uloronai which proves too much to overcome in negotiating passage in a small boat to Tretha. Son of a B…A frikkin’ horse trip to Tretha. Determined now more than ever Khel starts formulating a plan of attack. Ever the schemer he discards the thought of hiding the Uloronai till the last moment in negotiating passage (hopefully on a bigger boat) in Tretha. Little does the young Lord know that the elf and Uloronai will test his subtle tongue and his resources in ways he has yet to imagine.
The Duke is hospitable despite his reservations over the Uloronai’s presence but Khel is keenly aware that the aging friend of the Rennigar family and one of his favourite drinking partners (and sources of information) is nervous in the face of helping the young Lord when prying eyes could get him in trouble with his liege Lord Palentine.
Despite those reservations the group feels compelled to wait the arrival of Florshal who has remained behind at the Rennigar Estates doing some research and exploring the many books there. Keeping a constant vigil to ensure that the Royal Guard are not coming to Thorgrath in pursuit as well Florshal finally joins the group with a message from Torodac Rennigar, Khel’s Father who indicates the Renniger lands are under defacto martial law in pursuit of Khel.
With a sigh of relief Count Anar bids farewell to the troubled Lord he has counted as a good friend and confidant despite the difference in years between them.
Khel wiped his sword of the gore that clung to it like dripping sap. The bandits head that now lay crushed at his feet had not fared well in the battle. The young Lord moved to the lone survivor of the four would-be assassins that Florshal spotted long before they had a chance to sneak up on the group. “Who sent you dog? Your life is forefeit, might as well come clean at the end of days.”
Stuggling against the tight ropes that anDrok has secured him with the Assasin spits in Khel’s direction.
anDrok, ever unpredictable in such situations makes the unilateral decision to split the Assasin’s head in two. “That’ll teach ‘em to show some respect”.
A pragmatist like his father Khel turns away quickly and mounts his horse leaving Florshal and Dror open-mouthed at the quick and sudden turn of events. Florshal, more appalled at the ever increasing evidence that the rest of this party must be cured of its barbarism and Dror simply out of pitty that he had not done the same thing himself.
Alas, getting to the Southern coast of the Mhendarian Palatinate brings the group to a small fishing village. The simpletons in the town cower at the sight of the Uloronai which proves too much to overcome in negotiating passage in a small boat to Tretha. Son of a B…A frikkin’ horse trip to Tretha. Determined now more than ever Khel starts formulating a plan of attack. Ever the schemer he discards the thought of hiding the Uloronai till the last moment in negotiating passage (hopefully on a bigger boat) in Tretha. Little does the young Lord know that the elf and Uloronai will test his subtle tongue and his resources in ways he has yet to imagine.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Flight to the Rennigar Estates
Khel jumped into the saddle as his squire anDrok smiled knowing that the young Lord was suffering the after-effects of a night of over-indulgence. Spurring their horses cross country the small eclectic group must seem strange to those farmhands who briefly looked up from the crops and animals they were tending to note an Elf leading well dressed humans and something else that raised the ire in most men. The Uloronai named Dror.
Florshal’s cross country pass was effective as the group quickly overtook the Palatine Royal Guard. Or so the Elven eyes were said to see.
Taking the lead at the head of the column now that they were in sight of the city’s main gates the guards bowed ever so slightly as Khel stormed through on horseback directly to his fathers estates. As the lather from the dripping horses still dripped the young lord blurted his story out to his father.
“Dad, I screwed up Royally this time….literally, there was this chick, Lady Elicia, nice looking. Count Villar helped introduce me the traitor. My charm won her over but I get up to the room were supposed to…uh…have late night tea in…and there she is dead. Before you can say “setup” I was hauled off as her killer and I swear I had nothing to do with it. And then this Uloronai gets hired to kill me but ends up rescuing me but I stupidly went to the apartments and had to escape with a couple of my friends, this Uloronai named Dror…and now the bloody Royal Guard are on their way here because I’m on the lamb as it were.”
Khel’s fathers, Toradac face was flushed in anger as his son shrank into the plush leather chair that sat opposite his father’s oak desk. His mother had always tried to convince Khel’s father to get rid of the large albatross of a desk that looked like it had seen better days but now that Khel’s mother was dead, his father would not change a thing in his home, most especially the desk.
Slamming his heavy fist into the desk Toradac bellowed “I will rip out Villar’s guts for this one….or did you kill him…I would have killed him by now…but you probably knew better. How long do we have before we have to get you out of here?”
Once again surprised by his father’s pragmatic approach and protectionism he showed Khel the young Lord answered stoically, “Sorry Dad, wasn’t able to get to Villar…but I do know which of his staff set me up Verak. He’s supposed to be in Bridgerton. I may head there after lying low for a while. Do you think it’s safe to head down to hide out at Count Thorgraths?”
“To be sure my son, best you head there soon! Be wary, Villar will be looking for you as well. You could certainly be his undoing if you can provide proof that he set this up. He must be feeling the moves you were making in allying the Lord Palatine’s courtiers with our cause. Come, let us see you with fresh supplies and on your way.”
As the two men walked down one of the long halls filled with large slate slabs Khel’s father’s brow lowered in concern as he lowered his voice to admonish Khel, “Really, an Ulronai. Are you sure about this character? They are the dogs of the Palatinate son, hopefully you are simply going to leave him by the roadside as soon as you are done…Now about our plans to bring about some Royal changes…”
Florshal’s cross country pass was effective as the group quickly overtook the Palatine Royal Guard. Or so the Elven eyes were said to see.
Taking the lead at the head of the column now that they were in sight of the city’s main gates the guards bowed ever so slightly as Khel stormed through on horseback directly to his fathers estates. As the lather from the dripping horses still dripped the young lord blurted his story out to his father.
“Dad, I screwed up Royally this time….literally, there was this chick, Lady Elicia, nice looking. Count Villar helped introduce me the traitor. My charm won her over but I get up to the room were supposed to…uh…have late night tea in
Khel’s fathers, Toradac face was flushed in anger as his son shrank into the plush leather chair that sat opposite his father’s oak desk. His mother had always tried to convince Khel’s father to get rid of the large albatross of a desk that looked like it had seen better days but now that Khel’s mother was dead, his father would not change a thing in his home, most especially the desk.
Slamming his heavy fist into the desk Toradac bellowed “I will rip out Villar’s guts for this one….or did you kill him…I would have killed him by now…but you probably knew better. How long do we have before we have to get you out of here?”
Once again surprised by his father’s pragmatic approach and protectionism he showed Khel the young Lord answered stoically, “Sorry Dad, wasn’t able to get to Villar…but I do know which of his staff set me up Verak. He’s supposed to be in Bridgerton. I may head there after lying low for a while. Do you think it’s safe to head down to hide out at Count Thorgraths?”
“To be sure my son, best you head there soon! Be wary, Villar will be looking for you as well. You could certainly be his undoing if you can provide proof that he set this up. He must be feeling the moves you were making in allying the Lord Palatine’s courtiers with our cause. Come, let us see you with fresh supplies and on your way.”
As the two men walked down one of the long halls filled with large slate slabs Khel’s father’s brow lowered in concern as he lowered his voice to admonish Khel, “Really, an Ulronai. Are you sure about this character? They are the dogs of the Palatinate son, hopefully you are simply going to leave him by the roadside as soon as you are done…Now about our plans to bring about some Royal changes…”
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Out of the Apple cart, into the Cellar
Out of the Apple Cart into the Cellar
After ensuring Khel was secure with the Elf, Dror went back into the townhouse to ensure that anDrok didn’t botch things up, after all, he was merely a henchmen and likely would trip over his own words telling the guards an unlikely story.
After passing the main gate, with an impressive display of Singing and Archery, the Elf and our Hero Khel managed to get past the guards, despite Khels constant display of bravado. For the love of the Elves, he was throwing apples at the guards while I was trying to woo our way past the guards. “Fool of a Rennighar”
We soon parted our ways with Gort and began the long walk to the farmhouse.
The sun was on the horizon when at long last the farm house was in sight.
“Hey Khel, isn't that the farmhouse over there?”
“I don’t see anything yet…wait, maybe it is. You sure have keen eyesight my friend.”
“Yes, the advantage of a proper diet of vegetables and fruits with an unmatched physical regime and living a healthy life and my elven heritage has blessed me with superior vision.”
The look of disgust, mixed with boredom on Khels face was evident from a mile away. Deciding that this comment wasn’t worth a rebuttal, the team ( I use this term loosely) approached the farmhouse.
“This place is abandoned?” ask Foloshal.
“Yes, it would seem so, but only just recently”
Upon entry to the house, it was very dark. But Foloshal's Elven eyes could clearly see that there was a hole in the entryway dropping to the floor below. With the grace of an Elven dancer, Foloshal limberly jumped to the side and Khel, a little less gracefully followed the Elf into the house.
“Hey F, we should go down there and see what we can find?” mutters Khel, ever the curious one.
Khel, in his infinite wisdom, begins rummaging through the house looking for rope.
“Must be some rope around here somewhere hey F?”
“Hey, where’d you go?”
“I’m down here you crazy human, even your type knows how to build a set of stairs…”
Khel, a little embarrassed, walks down the stairs to the floor below and upon realizing his find, smiles with great glee.
“We have found the mother load!” cries out Khel.
For in fact, the pair had found a well stocked cellar with all the contents still intact.
Khel quickly searches around and sure enough finds a tap and slams it home into the nearest keg marked “Special Vintage” and begins to pour.
Hmmm…I wonder if this Elf can handle any drink, wonders Khel.
“Hey F, I bet you three silver pieces you can't drink three pints of this in half an hour?”
“I bet your right Khel, as a refined gentle elf as myself, I would sip it slowly and enjoy the aromas and flavors gracefully, unlike your barbarous drinking methods of imbibing everything in sight as quickly as possible”
“Your fucking boring you know that, you’re killing me slowly but surely with your crap.”
“Excuse me, I am anything but boring, why back home I cam considered a rebel,always on the move and adventurous”
“Yeah, well out here in the real world you’re a stick in the mud!”
“I never!” states Foloshal
“I believe it” challenges Khel with a twinkle in his eye. “ Let the drinking begin!”
Well, two hours later, singing and merriment could be heard from miles away, it was fortune or simply plain good luck that nobody was nearby as the pair drank very, very heavily and were so inebriated, they could see stars in the corner of their vision.
“Hey Khel ,this stuff is good for human wine hey?” hiccups Foloshal.
“No shit Sherlock! Man, anyway, tell me, what made you crawl from underneath the moss in elvenholme and come join the land of the living anyhow?”
Having lost all control, Foloshal tells the tale of the 7 rods (this story takes place before Foloshal finds out its one rod broken into 7), the rods purpose and his quest to find them.
“I’m going to come back to Elvenholme and prove to the nobles that we need to unite our races once more and that the Elves can once again face the other races in a position of leadership and power”
“Wow, isn’t that great. I’m feeling a little sleepy thanks to your stories, I'm gonna crash”
Khel and Foloshal find the nearest stack of rubble and fall asleep, otherwise known as passing out.
The next day, with heads full of hammers, Foloshal and Khel await the arrival of anDrok and Dror.
“What’s that cloud I see in the distance?” enquires Foloshal.
“Holy shit, its the Palentine Army!!” “it looks like they are heading toward my fathers homeland! We must make haste and warn him”
“Should we not wait for anDrok and Dror”
After an hour the train of soldiers, flag bearers and supply chains finally rolls by into the distance. Then, four small clouds of dust could be seen in the distance…
Androk and Dror, arriving at the farmhouse, can see the pair are in a sorry state, leaning on each other for support.
“Hey boss, I brought you guys some horses, you okay?
“Yes, we are fine, however we must make hast and get to my father”
“I could lead you across country and at the speed this army is travelling I'm sure we could arrive before them” states Foloshal.
“So be it, lets ride!!”
After ensuring Khel was secure with the Elf, Dror went back into the townhouse to ensure that anDrok didn’t botch things up, after all, he was merely a henchmen and likely would trip over his own words telling the guards an unlikely story.
After passing the main gate, with an impressive display of Singing and Archery, the Elf and our Hero Khel managed to get past the guards, despite Khels constant display of bravado. For the love of the Elves, he was throwing apples at the guards while I was trying to woo our way past the guards. “Fool of a Rennighar”
We soon parted our ways with Gort and began the long walk to the farmhouse.
The sun was on the horizon when at long last the farm house was in sight.
“Hey Khel, isn't that the farmhouse over there?”
“I don’t see anything yet…wait, maybe it is. You sure have keen eyesight my friend.”
“Yes, the advantage of a proper diet of vegetables and fruits with an unmatched physical regime and living a healthy life and my elven heritage has blessed me with superior vision.”
The look of disgust, mixed with boredom on Khels face was evident from a mile away. Deciding that this comment wasn’t worth a rebuttal, the team ( I use this term loosely) approached the farmhouse.
“This place is abandoned?” ask Foloshal.
“Yes, it would seem so, but only just recently”
Upon entry to the house, it was very dark. But Foloshal's Elven eyes could clearly see that there was a hole in the entryway dropping to the floor below. With the grace of an Elven dancer, Foloshal limberly jumped to the side and Khel, a little less gracefully followed the Elf into the house.
“Hey F, we should go down there and see what we can find?” mutters Khel, ever the curious one.
Khel, in his infinite wisdom, begins rummaging through the house looking for rope.
“Must be some rope around here somewhere hey F?”
“Hey, where’d you go?”
“I’m down here you crazy human, even your type knows how to build a set of stairs…”
Khel, a little embarrassed, walks down the stairs to the floor below and upon realizing his find, smiles with great glee.
“We have found the mother load!” cries out Khel.
For in fact, the pair had found a well stocked cellar with all the contents still intact.
Khel quickly searches around and sure enough finds a tap and slams it home into the nearest keg marked “Special Vintage” and begins to pour.
Hmmm…I wonder if this Elf can handle any drink, wonders Khel.
“Hey F, I bet you three silver pieces you can't drink three pints of this in half an hour?”
“I bet your right Khel, as a refined gentle elf as myself, I would sip it slowly and enjoy the aromas and flavors gracefully, unlike your barbarous drinking methods of imbibing everything in sight as quickly as possible”
“Your fucking boring you know that, you’re killing me slowly but surely with your crap.”
“Excuse me, I am anything but boring, why back home I cam considered a rebel,always on the move and adventurous”
“Yeah, well out here in the real world you’re a stick in the mud!”
“I never!” states Foloshal
“I believe it” challenges Khel with a twinkle in his eye. “ Let the drinking begin!”
Well, two hours later, singing and merriment could be heard from miles away, it was fortune or simply plain good luck that nobody was nearby as the pair drank very, very heavily and were so inebriated, they could see stars in the corner of their vision.
“Hey Khel ,this stuff is good for human wine hey?” hiccups Foloshal.
“No shit Sherlock! Man, anyway, tell me, what made you crawl from underneath the moss in elvenholme and come join the land of the living anyhow?”
Having lost all control, Foloshal tells the tale of the 7 rods (this story takes place before Foloshal finds out its one rod broken into 7), the rods purpose and his quest to find them.
“I’m going to come back to Elvenholme and prove to the nobles that we need to unite our races once more and that the Elves can once again face the other races in a position of leadership and power”
“Wow, isn’t that great. I’m feeling a little sleepy thanks to your stories, I'm gonna crash”
Khel and Foloshal find the nearest stack of rubble and fall asleep, otherwise known as passing out.
The next day, with heads full of hammers, Foloshal and Khel await the arrival of anDrok and Dror.
“What’s that cloud I see in the distance?” enquires Foloshal.
“Holy shit, its the Palentine Army!!” “it looks like they are heading toward my fathers homeland! We must make haste and warn him”
“Should we not wait for anDrok and Dror”
After an hour the train of soldiers, flag bearers and supply chains finally rolls by into the distance. Then, four small clouds of dust could be seen in the distance…
Androk and Dror, arriving at the farmhouse, can see the pair are in a sorry state, leaning on each other for support.
“Hey boss, I brought you guys some horses, you okay?
“Yes, we are fine, however we must make hast and get to my father”
“I could lead you across country and at the speed this army is travelling I'm sure we could arrive before them” states Foloshal.
“So be it, lets ride!!”
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Surrounded
anDrok shook his head at Khel’s ridiculous escape from his prison cell grabbing the bottle of wine out of the young nobles hand before he had a chance to drink down another large swig. “Khel, I’m glad you’re out...really I am...but have you thought this through? This is Lord Palantine...isn’t he going to...”
No sooner had the thought come to anDrok, the young nobles protector, it came to fruition. A large contingent of Lord Palantine’s Guards were just pulling up in front of the Rhennigar Townhouse both at the back door and at the large oaken front doors embossed with the faint outline of the family crest, a large black dragon in a field of silver stars.
A large burly guard in plate mail, obviously battle hardened and a giant among men approaches the door with a contingent of other Palantine’s Knights. “Open in the name of Lord Palantine. We have come to retrieve Khel Rhennigar. By force if necessary.”
anDrok looked at the Ularani, “You got him into this you filthy bugger. What now?”
Looking flush from drink the young noble staggered away from the front hall while looking over his shoulder and motioning to Dror to follow him, “my friend...would you be so good as to stall our Lordly friends and then meet us at the old farmhouse we’ve been meaning to explore just to the South of the city?”
“How are you going to get out of here now? They’re swarming like ants out there.”
“Ah, my muscle bound friend...I have a few tricks up my sleeve yet that you have not seen. Trust me...At the farm house on the morrow.”
Dror closed the trap door that led down into the short underground passageway as he was bidden by his new friend as a torch was lit from up ahead. Pulling on a backpack that was hidden in an alcove Dror and Khel travelled only a short way in the rough hewn earth that smelt of feces and wet dirt before coming to an iron ladder.
Pushing their way through the trap door the pair find themselves face to face with an elf.
“Well, well, Khel. Getting yourself in trouble I hear.”
“Yes, Foloshal, got a plan?”
“Of, course, notice the apple cart here...yes well climb in and we’ll bury you two in apples while I have the pleasure of singing to the front gate guardesmen until they let us past. Gort, your apple merchant friend here has been most helpful.”
No sooner had the thought come to anDrok, the young nobles protector, it came to fruition. A large contingent of Lord Palantine’s Guards were just pulling up in front of the Rhennigar Townhouse both at the back door and at the large oaken front doors embossed with the faint outline of the family crest, a large black dragon in a field of silver stars.
A large burly guard in plate mail, obviously battle hardened and a giant among men approaches the door with a contingent of other Palantine’s Knights. “Open in the name of Lord Palantine. We have come to retrieve Khel Rhennigar. By force if necessary.”
anDrok looked at the Ularani, “You got him into this you filthy bugger. What now?”
Looking flush from drink the young noble staggered away from the front hall while looking over his shoulder and motioning to Dror to follow him, “my friend...would you be so good as to stall our Lordly friends and then meet us at the old farmhouse we’ve been meaning to explore just to the South of the city?”
“How are you going to get out of here now? They’re swarming like ants out there.”
“Ah, my muscle bound friend...I have a few tricks up my sleeve yet that you have not seen. Trust me...At the farm house on the morrow.”
Dror closed the trap door that led down into the short underground passageway as he was bidden by his new friend as a torch was lit from up ahead. Pulling on a backpack that was hidden in an alcove Dror and Khel travelled only a short way in the rough hewn earth that smelt of feces and wet dirt before coming to an iron ladder.
Pushing their way through the trap door the pair find themselves face to face with an elf.
“Well, well, Khel. Getting yourself in trouble I hear.”
“Yes, Foloshal, got a plan?”
“Of, course, notice the apple cart here...yes well climb in and we’ll bury you two in apples while I have the pleasure of singing to the front gate guardesmen until they let us past. Gort, your apple merchant friend here has been most helpful.”
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Dror Shraga
Name: Dror Shraga
Race: Human -Ulroni
Born: Unknown Location
Descriptors:
2 Wants to be treated as an equal to other human races (Mind)
3 Proud to be Ulroni (Mind)
2 Destined to remove the Ulroni curse (Spirit)
2 Always Alert (Matter)
3 How'd he do that? (Matter)
4 Ulroni Warrior Mage (Matter)
2 Battle is Glorious (Chaos)
Quirks:
1 Ulroni Curse
2 Country Bumpkin
Skills:
9 Master of the Spear 6D6
3 Acrobatics 2D6
3 Wilderness Survival 2D6
6 Circle of Destruction 4D6
6 Circle of Movement 4D6
Prime Affinity:
7 Magic
0 Ulroni Knowledge
Matter 3
Mind 2
Spirit 1
Chaos 1
Being an Ulroni, Dror is an outcast who refuses to accept his fate. He is destined to free his people from the curse that has haunted them for a millenia. Having grown up with the nomadic Ulroni people, Dror is ignorant of the ways of the rest of the world. He seeks justice and respect for his people.
Race: Human -Ulroni
Born: Unknown Location
Descriptors:
2 Wants to be treated as an equal to other human races (Mind)
3 Proud to be Ulroni (Mind)
2 Destined to remove the Ulroni curse (Spirit)
2 Always Alert (Matter)
3 How'd he do that? (Matter)
4 Ulroni Warrior Mage (Matter)
2 Battle is Glorious (Chaos)
Quirks:
1 Ulroni Curse
2 Country Bumpkin
Skills:
9 Master of the Spear 6D6
3 Acrobatics 2D6
3 Wilderness Survival 2D6
6 Circle of Destruction 4D6
6 Circle of Movement 4D6
Prime Affinity:
7 Magic
0 Ulroni Knowledge
Matter 3
Mind 2
Spirit 1
Chaos 1
Being an Ulroni, Dror is an outcast who refuses to accept his fate. He is destined to free his people from the curse that has haunted them for a millenia. Having grown up with the nomadic Ulroni people, Dror is ignorant of the ways of the rest of the world. He seeks justice and respect for his people.
Friday, July 10, 2009
I must be loosing my mind!!
“I must be loosing my mind! I cannot believe that I have got myself connected with these humans, and an Ulronai no less, what my people would think of me in my homeland. Rushing about from City to City, running from the law and subjecting myself to the speed of humanity has boggled even my clever mind.”
These humans, they live for such a short time that they insist on living every moment as though it would be their last. Running from here to there, I have done more traveling these past few weeks then I would have ever imagined. If my family ever saw me traveling on horseback past groves of trees and lakes without stopping to speak to the plants and verifying if there are any unique herbs they would be appalled! The landscape goes by at such great speeds I feel myself wanting to stop, take a moment , maybe a few years, to analyze the way the grass grows in this region would be fabulous!
I have witnessed birds I rarely get to see land nearby and did not take the time to note them, their flight path, their colors, this pains me greatly….
If it were not for my Quest to find the Rods I would have long ago abandoned this reckless band of “thugs” and miscreants.
Anyhow, enough of these musings
Folashal stands up from his chair and stretches his back. Enjoying the solitude, his wine and some candle light studying “Ahhh, this is more like it”.
Three days ago the crew had arrived at Athring, Homeland to Khel Rennigar and had obtained approval to look through their personnel library. After having reviewed many documents and tombs,finding nothing, it was suggested he go to an old Halfling codger’s house down the street as he has many ancient volumes.
The next day, Foloshal approaches Squarts home. Squart is an old Halfling that sells used books and lives down the street from Khels family home. Approaching the house, Foloshal shakes his head as the home is entirely made of mud, very low to the ground and has a round opening in the front with no visible windows.
“Pray I do not get too dirty in here”
Foloshal knocks on the door.
Knocks again. Then again.
“What the hell is going on out there, don’t you know its breakfast time?” yells an unknown voice
“My apologies, I had thought it was just before noon, shall I come back?” yells Foloshal through the door.
The door opens slowly, hinges nearly broken , it is opened with care. On the other side of the door is the oldest, crinkliest Halfling Foloshal has ever seen. Barely 3 feet tall, even with the wild hair, beard down to the ground Foloshal wonders if he is not actually a Dwarf.
“Its Breakfeast time until its Lunch time young elf.” “ What the hell do you want?”
“I have been told that you have books for sale, may I enquire, if it’s always time to eat when do you sell books?”
“You’re pretty damn smart hey? Or simply a smart ass?” “ I sell books between Lunch and Snack time ya bastard elf, now get the hell out of my door step”
“Excuse me kind sire, but it is of outmost importance I talk with you”
“You got any Elven wine on you? If not, get lost ya bastard”
“As a matter of fact, I do have some fine Elven wine, and a fine human sample I discovered with some friends on the road the other day as well, from the finest estate”
“You some kind of wine connoisseur too hey? Fricking Elves think their so smart.” Mumbled the Halfling. “ Come in and pour me a flagon of your crap and ill be the judge of that ya bastard elf.”
The Halfling steps aside and waves Foloshal in, gingerly closing the door, Foloshal enters the “cave”.
The home is around 40’ round with no visible rooms. A straw mat in the corner, some semblance of a fireplace with no visible chimney, the room stunk like it had just survived a mass fire. However, lying on every possible open space, were volumes and volumes of old, decaying tombs.
“What a unique home you have here” states Foloshal.
“Yeah, it’s nearly as fancy as a castle you idiot.” “now pour me some wine before I call for the town guards”
Squart reaches behind a table and pulls out two very grimy, flagons that look like they had so many years of dirt on them they possible could colonize an entire herb garden.
Spitting In the glasses, he pulls out his shirt from his tunic, gives them a wipe.
“Here we go, cleaner then a whistle, now pour away, assuming you can manage to lift that flagon you weak little smart ass”
Foloshal pours a drink in both flagons, glancing at the tombs nearby.
“So, you interested in books hey,you sure you can read?”
“Yes, I am very astute and specialize in poetry.”
“Poetry! I should have known, so you like boys too then hey you faggot?”
“Pardon me kind fellow, I have never heard of that term but I most certainly like Elven women, not that has any bearing on poetry. In my homeland, it is an honor to sing poetry”
“Yeah, well that’s because you come from the woods where all you fairies dance around and stick it to each other, no wonder you’re an idiot, incenst and the like…”
“Sir, if I may, can I take a look at your books” ignoring his mean little jibes.
“Sure you can ya fairy” as he roars out in laughter.
Foloshal begins to look at the tombs. Picking them up carefully, one by one he reviews the tombs. Taking his time, reading the first few pages of every book. Most are so filthy they need to be cleaned professionally. “ If only I had a few years to clean these off.”
After some time, Foloshal hears a strange noise. Looking over at Squart, the Halfling has fallen over on the ground , beard covered in wine and snoring as loud as a Dragon. The odd noise coming from his buttocks and his mouth at the same time.
“Wow, this guy would match well with Khel” Im surprised if there isn’t a wench hidden in here somewhere as well!” Smiling despite himself, Foloshal continues with his work.
After some time Foloshal opens a tomb and notes that it is written in ancient elvish, and it’s a poetry book!
“Well well, I might as well read this in its entirety, must do justice to this ancient poet!”
Hours later, Squart wakes up with a clamor.
“What the hell is going on in here, who the hell are you?” “oh yeah, its the fairy, you done yet or you waiting for your godmother?”
“Im sure I don’t know what you mean, but I am nearly done.”
“Well its supper time and the time for sellin books is over, so get the hell out of me house before I call the town guards on ye, unless of course ya have some more of that wine?”
“As a matter of fact I do” Foloshal approaches his pack , opening it the flagons have all been emptied.
“It would seem you have drank all of my wine”
“You fricking ungrateful son of a warg, you accusing me of stealing your crappy wine and drinking it all right in front of you without getting caught?”
“I’m sorry, you are right, it must have spilt on the ground” mutters Foloshal;, knowing there is no way this happened.
“Yeah, it spilled on the ground, I should charge you to clean my dirt floor ya stupid elf”
“So here is the deal, you can take that fairy book for 7 gold pieces, and another gold piece for the cleaning charge and another for making me drink that foul wine equals… 12 gold pieces”
“I’m sorry isn’t that…ah, no you’re right of course, 12 gold pieces it is”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought , you cant add hey? You sure you can read that garbage…anyhow, it’s a deal. Hand over the 13 gold and be on your way”
Foloshal, ever the one to avoid a conflict, hands over Squart the 13 gold, packs away the book and departs.
Cut scene.
Later that evening, in the privacy of his temporary study, Foloshal nearly drops the book in his excitement at his discovery. A poem. A beautiful poem written about The Seven Rods as One.
Reading the poem over and over again, it is clear to Foloshal that the writer must have in depth knowledge , as references that are rarely known are mentioned.
But, a key sentence catches his eye
“The seven rods, merged as one, 7 pieces they are , what once was one, now is 7, scattered through the heavens, never to be merged again”
“Wow, what a discovery, it would seem it is one rod, broken into seven shards…this Rod would be so powerful, ability to control all the armies of the seven major races, this information must be kept to myself”
These humans, they live for such a short time that they insist on living every moment as though it would be their last. Running from here to there, I have done more traveling these past few weeks then I would have ever imagined. If my family ever saw me traveling on horseback past groves of trees and lakes without stopping to speak to the plants and verifying if there are any unique herbs they would be appalled! The landscape goes by at such great speeds I feel myself wanting to stop, take a moment , maybe a few years, to analyze the way the grass grows in this region would be fabulous!
I have witnessed birds I rarely get to see land nearby and did not take the time to note them, their flight path, their colors, this pains me greatly….
If it were not for my Quest to find the Rods I would have long ago abandoned this reckless band of “thugs” and miscreants.
Anyhow, enough of these musings
Folashal stands up from his chair and stretches his back. Enjoying the solitude, his wine and some candle light studying “Ahhh, this is more like it”.
Three days ago the crew had arrived at Athring, Homeland to Khel Rennigar and had obtained approval to look through their personnel library. After having reviewed many documents and tombs,finding nothing, it was suggested he go to an old Halfling codger’s house down the street as he has many ancient volumes.
The next day, Foloshal approaches Squarts home. Squart is an old Halfling that sells used books and lives down the street from Khels family home. Approaching the house, Foloshal shakes his head as the home is entirely made of mud, very low to the ground and has a round opening in the front with no visible windows.
“Pray I do not get too dirty in here”
Foloshal knocks on the door.
Knocks again. Then again.
“What the hell is going on out there, don’t you know its breakfast time?” yells an unknown voice
“My apologies, I had thought it was just before noon, shall I come back?” yells Foloshal through the door.
The door opens slowly, hinges nearly broken , it is opened with care. On the other side of the door is the oldest, crinkliest Halfling Foloshal has ever seen. Barely 3 feet tall, even with the wild hair, beard down to the ground Foloshal wonders if he is not actually a Dwarf.
“Its Breakfeast time until its Lunch time young elf.” “ What the hell do you want?”
“I have been told that you have books for sale, may I enquire, if it’s always time to eat when do you sell books?”
“You’re pretty damn smart hey? Or simply a smart ass?” “ I sell books between Lunch and Snack time ya bastard elf, now get the hell out of my door step”
“Excuse me kind sire, but it is of outmost importance I talk with you”
“You got any Elven wine on you? If not, get lost ya bastard”
“As a matter of fact, I do have some fine Elven wine, and a fine human sample I discovered with some friends on the road the other day as well, from the finest estate”
“You some kind of wine connoisseur too hey? Fricking Elves think their so smart.” Mumbled the Halfling. “ Come in and pour me a flagon of your crap and ill be the judge of that ya bastard elf.”
The Halfling steps aside and waves Foloshal in, gingerly closing the door, Foloshal enters the “cave”.
The home is around 40’ round with no visible rooms. A straw mat in the corner, some semblance of a fireplace with no visible chimney, the room stunk like it had just survived a mass fire. However, lying on every possible open space, were volumes and volumes of old, decaying tombs.
“What a unique home you have here” states Foloshal.
“Yeah, it’s nearly as fancy as a castle you idiot.” “now pour me some wine before I call for the town guards”
Squart reaches behind a table and pulls out two very grimy, flagons that look like they had so many years of dirt on them they possible could colonize an entire herb garden.
Spitting In the glasses, he pulls out his shirt from his tunic, gives them a wipe.
“Here we go, cleaner then a whistle, now pour away, assuming you can manage to lift that flagon you weak little smart ass”
Foloshal pours a drink in both flagons, glancing at the tombs nearby.
“So, you interested in books hey,you sure you can read?”
“Yes, I am very astute and specialize in poetry.”
“Poetry! I should have known, so you like boys too then hey you faggot?”
“Pardon me kind fellow, I have never heard of that term but I most certainly like Elven women, not that has any bearing on poetry. In my homeland, it is an honor to sing poetry”
“Yeah, well that’s because you come from the woods where all you fairies dance around and stick it to each other, no wonder you’re an idiot, incenst and the like…”
“Sir, if I may, can I take a look at your books” ignoring his mean little jibes.
“Sure you can ya fairy” as he roars out in laughter.
Foloshal begins to look at the tombs. Picking them up carefully, one by one he reviews the tombs. Taking his time, reading the first few pages of every book. Most are so filthy they need to be cleaned professionally. “ If only I had a few years to clean these off.”
After some time, Foloshal hears a strange noise. Looking over at Squart, the Halfling has fallen over on the ground , beard covered in wine and snoring as loud as a Dragon. The odd noise coming from his buttocks and his mouth at the same time.
“Wow, this guy would match well with Khel” Im surprised if there isn’t a wench hidden in here somewhere as well!” Smiling despite himself, Foloshal continues with his work.
After some time Foloshal opens a tomb and notes that it is written in ancient elvish, and it’s a poetry book!
“Well well, I might as well read this in its entirety, must do justice to this ancient poet!”
Hours later, Squart wakes up with a clamor.
“What the hell is going on in here, who the hell are you?” “oh yeah, its the fairy, you done yet or you waiting for your godmother?”
“Im sure I don’t know what you mean, but I am nearly done.”
“Well its supper time and the time for sellin books is over, so get the hell out of me house before I call the town guards on ye, unless of course ya have some more of that wine?”
“As a matter of fact I do” Foloshal approaches his pack , opening it the flagons have all been emptied.
“It would seem you have drank all of my wine”
“You fricking ungrateful son of a warg, you accusing me of stealing your crappy wine and drinking it all right in front of you without getting caught?”
“I’m sorry, you are right, it must have spilt on the ground” mutters Foloshal;, knowing there is no way this happened.
“Yeah, it spilled on the ground, I should charge you to clean my dirt floor ya stupid elf”
“So here is the deal, you can take that fairy book for 7 gold pieces, and another gold piece for the cleaning charge and another for making me drink that foul wine equals… 12 gold pieces”
“I’m sorry isn’t that…ah, no you’re right of course, 12 gold pieces it is”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought , you cant add hey? You sure you can read that garbage…anyhow, it’s a deal. Hand over the 13 gold and be on your way”
Foloshal, ever the one to avoid a conflict, hands over Squart the 13 gold, packs away the book and departs.
Cut scene.
Later that evening, in the privacy of his temporary study, Foloshal nearly drops the book in his excitement at his discovery. A poem. A beautiful poem written about The Seven Rods as One.
Reading the poem over and over again, it is clear to Foloshal that the writer must have in depth knowledge , as references that are rarely known are mentioned.
But, a key sentence catches his eye
“The seven rods, merged as one, 7 pieces they are , what once was one, now is 7, scattered through the heavens, never to be merged again”
“Wow, what a discovery, it would seem it is one rod, broken into seven shards…this Rod would be so powerful, ability to control all the armies of the seven major races, this information must be kept to myself”
Thursday, July 9, 2009
HALVORN AND THE BOYS
FADE IN:
THE OUTSKIRTS OF THE TOWN OF ATHRING, STRONGHOLD OF DUKE TORADOC RENNIGAR.
1. A CROW FLIES PAST LOW TO THE GROUND REVEALING IN THE DISTANCE FIVE MEN RIDING TOWARDS YOU ALONG THE ROAD. IN THE CLOSE FOREGROUND IS THE BACK PART OF A SIGN.
2. THEY WEAR THE CHAIN MAIL ARMOR AND TABERD OF THE ROYAL PALATINE GUARD. The horses bear the royal brand and the saddles are regulation issue.
HALVORN DEXTER, wearing a captain's insignia, rides slightly ahead of the others. He rides stiffly, always slightly in pain. Halvorn is not unhandsome, leather-faced man in his early forties. A thoughtful, self-educated top sword-slinger with a penchant for violence who is afraid of nothing---except the changes in himself and those around him.
Make no mistake, Halvorn Dexter is not a hero---his values are not ours-- he is a sword-slinger, a criminal, a bandit, a killer of men. His sympathies are not for fences, for social justice or better schools. He lives outside and against society because he believes in that way of life and if he has moments of sympathy for others, moments of regret, they are short lived. He is not a 'good man' according to the righteous... To them he is totally bad, and he wouldn't have it any other way.
Next to him TADEUS GREYFRID wears the insignia of a sergeant. Tadeus is big, good-natured with a strong sword arm, strong loyalty and, like Halvorn, a bone deep distaste for rules and regulations. He can sing, has more than his share of charm, but believes in nothing except two men, and Halvorn is one.
Behind them ride two brothers, TUTTLE and TECTOR GORCH, dressed as corporals. Tuttle and Tector are big, tough, hot tempered and sudden. They work together, eat together and sometimes sleep together with the same whore. Brutal, vicious in a fight, illiterate, they are always pressing for an advantage and once they get it-- they never let go. They are without loyalty or honor, to anyone except each other and that is limited.
A fifth man wears the uniform of a regular soldier. This is IVOR. Ivor is a good-looking, bilingual Vestrian boy in his middle 20's who has seen so much blood and violence and cruelty under Isak Donverness that he rebelled -- but his rebellion was not for a just cause, his was a one-man revolution against them all. He believes in his family, his village and the inherent dignity of man (some men at least). He is faster than his companions with a sword -- and a better shot with a bow -- but he can't laugh at the loss of love or suffer the loss of pride -- Skeldian pride -- a pride that can kill him, but if it does, he will have no regrets.
3. REACHING THE SIGN THE MEN STOP. Without speaking they begin to brush off their clothing and get their uniforms in order.
4. THE SIGN READS: Athring 1 League.
And underneath, someone has printed:
POPULATION 5682
STAY ON AND GROW WITH OUR COMMUNITY
5. HALVORN AND TADEUS STARE FOR A MOMENT AT THE SIGN, slightly bemused.
TADEUS
Make you feel welcome?
HALVORN
(dryly)
It helps.
TECTOR
What's it say?
IVOR
(baiting him)
It invites us to stay with the community and grow.
It is here, perhaps with time and a small miracle --
that you could be taught to read
Tector looks at Ivor for a long moment, then turns to Halvorn.
TECTOR
I never enlisted to serve with no
smart-mouthed kid.
IVOR
Nor I with dogs.
TADEUS
(grinning at Halvorn)
I'd like to transfer to another unit --
there seems to be dissension in the ranks.
HALVORN
( to Tector and Ivor)
I'll transfer both of you to hell -- just one
more word.
They look at him silently. He means it.
HALVORN
Come on -- we have knifes work to do.
Halvorn spurs his horse and the group starts for town.
(to be continued)
THE OUTSKIRTS OF THE TOWN OF ATHRING, STRONGHOLD OF DUKE TORADOC RENNIGAR.
1. A CROW FLIES PAST LOW TO THE GROUND REVEALING IN THE DISTANCE FIVE MEN RIDING TOWARDS YOU ALONG THE ROAD. IN THE CLOSE FOREGROUND IS THE BACK PART OF A SIGN.
2. THEY WEAR THE CHAIN MAIL ARMOR AND TABERD OF THE ROYAL PALATINE GUARD. The horses bear the royal brand and the saddles are regulation issue.
HALVORN DEXTER, wearing a captain's insignia, rides slightly ahead of the others. He rides stiffly, always slightly in pain. Halvorn is not unhandsome, leather-faced man in his early forties. A thoughtful, self-educated top sword-slinger with a penchant for violence who is afraid of nothing---except the changes in himself and those around him.
Make no mistake, Halvorn Dexter is not a hero---his values are not ours-- he is a sword-slinger, a criminal, a bandit, a killer of men. His sympathies are not for fences, for social justice or better schools. He lives outside and against society because he believes in that way of life and if he has moments of sympathy for others, moments of regret, they are short lived. He is not a 'good man' according to the righteous... To them he is totally bad, and he wouldn't have it any other way.
Next to him TADEUS GREYFRID wears the insignia of a sergeant. Tadeus is big, good-natured with a strong sword arm, strong loyalty and, like Halvorn, a bone deep distaste for rules and regulations. He can sing, has more than his share of charm, but believes in nothing except two men, and Halvorn is one.
Behind them ride two brothers, TUTTLE and TECTOR GORCH, dressed as corporals. Tuttle and Tector are big, tough, hot tempered and sudden. They work together, eat together and sometimes sleep together with the same whore. Brutal, vicious in a fight, illiterate, they are always pressing for an advantage and once they get it-- they never let go. They are without loyalty or honor, to anyone except each other and that is limited.
A fifth man wears the uniform of a regular soldier. This is IVOR. Ivor is a good-looking, bilingual Vestrian boy in his middle 20's who has seen so much blood and violence and cruelty under Isak Donverness that he rebelled -- but his rebellion was not for a just cause, his was a one-man revolution against them all. He believes in his family, his village and the inherent dignity of man (some men at least). He is faster than his companions with a sword -- and a better shot with a bow -- but he can't laugh at the loss of love or suffer the loss of pride -- Skeldian pride -- a pride that can kill him, but if it does, he will have no regrets.
3. REACHING THE SIGN THE MEN STOP. Without speaking they begin to brush off their clothing and get their uniforms in order.
4. THE SIGN READS: Athring 1 League.
And underneath, someone has printed:
POPULATION 5682
STAY ON AND GROW WITH OUR COMMUNITY
5. HALVORN AND TADEUS STARE FOR A MOMENT AT THE SIGN, slightly bemused.
TADEUS
Make you feel welcome?
HALVORN
(dryly)
It helps.
TECTOR
What's it say?
IVOR
(baiting him)
It invites us to stay with the community and grow.
It is here, perhaps with time and a small miracle --
that you could be taught to read
Tector looks at Ivor for a long moment, then turns to Halvorn.
TECTOR
I never enlisted to serve with no
smart-mouthed kid.
IVOR
Nor I with dogs.
TADEUS
(grinning at Halvorn)
I'd like to transfer to another unit --
there seems to be dissension in the ranks.
HALVORN
( to Tector and Ivor)
I'll transfer both of you to hell -- just one
more word.
They look at him silently. He means it.
HALVORN
Come on -- we have knifes work to do.
Halvorn spurs his horse and the group starts for town.
(to be continued)
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Let's see you talk your way out of this one
Chapter 2, Let's see you talk your way out of this one
Dropping down to a crouch on the far side of the door in the shadows the young noble waited for his would be executioner….he listened intently as the very faint sounds of a sword being drawn and a key being inserted into the lock bring a bead of sweat trickling down the side of his face…Crap..he had been in tight situations before but this wasn’t funny anymore with an Ulrani coming in to kill him….an Ulrani…yes an Ulronai Khel realized….he had only ever heard of the warrior race descendants of Ulro, a great warrior-hero who were now cursed. It must be the fear and revulsion he now felt….Damn….time to focus….
As time stood still as it does in times like this Khel’s mind races back to the information he was able to extract from the guards before throwing him in here…”Verek” is the servants name….it sounds familiar somehow….Focus…Focus…Hope I can convince this Ulronai not to kill me….How did he get in here anyway….where in Asvalak’s name were all the guards?
With a resounding crash the door opened as the warrior burst into the room and Khel tried to trip him. Talking fast the young Noble recalled the curse of the Ulronai and tried to use it to his advantage as the Ulronai crouched at the ready to bring on a second attack, “Hey, I just got in here, it’s not me you want….who put you up to this….did they tell you they were your friends?....you don’t have friends remember?....what have I done to you….I can double whatever they paid you….I could be your friend” Khel smiled as he noticed the Ulronai warriors sword tip drop at those words as he looked about to concede to the Noble’s tongue but all too quickly he swung a resounding roundhouse strike that would have amputated all but the quickest and most agile in Ambrethel…..”Hey none of that…I tell you someone is trying to frame me….Really does it make any sense that you are here trying to kill a Noble of the house of Rhennigar”
This time Khel could tell that he had finally gotten through to the Ulronai, “Ok now put away that big poker of yours, do the right thing, and help me out of here my friend”.
Taking a circuitous route back to the Rhennigar apartments in Cyradon, Khel wondered what to do with the Ulronai Warrior….turning to his killer come rescuer Khel hoped he was going to get the answer he wanted….”What do you think about getting a little bit of revenge my friend?....So tell me….who was it that hired you anyway? Where were all the guards? Weren’t you a bit suspicious? What’s your story man? Oh my name is Khel Rhennigar by the way and I can tell you right now that anDrok is not going to like you…you know you really should try wearing some better clothes to blend in a bit better…you’re not a very good assassin…sorry…don’t get me wrong you seem like a good warrior and all but that hodge podge of clothes won’t work. Here let me set you up with something more suitable….and would you answer my questions already….what do you mean which ones? Sheeesh maybe you and anDrok will get along….Do I talk too much? No don’t answer that….I’ll send for one of the servants to bring some meats, and ale down to this room….you can stay in this curtained, adjoining room till they leave and I’ll send anDrok to get you set up with a room. Try not to get on his bad side…kind of tough with the aura you give off but I’ll lay down the law for him….speaking of law….I guess I’m a fugitive….hmm….better do something about that. Don’t mind me I need to step out for a couple hours.
With a sigh of relief the exhausted Ulronai Warrior sat beside the curtain enjoying the quiet and solitude that a room without Khel afforded. This being “friends” thing was a tiring business. It would have been simpler to chop him in half….too late now. He’d have to settle for the guy that set him up….although if the guy didn’t stop talking it might be fun to at least cut out his tongue!!
Dropping down to a crouch on the far side of the door in the shadows the young noble waited for his would be executioner….he listened intently as the very faint sounds of a sword being drawn and a key being inserted into the lock bring a bead of sweat trickling down the side of his face…Crap..he had been in tight situations before but this wasn’t funny anymore with an Ulrani coming in to kill him….an Ulrani…yes an Ulronai Khel realized….he had only ever heard of the warrior race descendants of Ulro, a great warrior-hero who were now cursed. It must be the fear and revulsion he now felt….Damn….time to focus….
As time stood still as it does in times like this Khel’s mind races back to the information he was able to extract from the guards before throwing him in here…”Verek” is the servants name….it sounds familiar somehow….Focus…Focus…Hope I can convince this Ulronai not to kill me….How did he get in here anyway….where in Asvalak’s name were all the guards?
With a resounding crash the door opened as the warrior burst into the room and Khel tried to trip him. Talking fast the young Noble recalled the curse of the Ulronai and tried to use it to his advantage as the Ulronai crouched at the ready to bring on a second attack, “Hey, I just got in here, it’s not me you want….who put you up to this….did they tell you they were your friends?....you don’t have friends remember?....what have I done to you….I can double whatever they paid you….I could be your friend” Khel smiled as he noticed the Ulronai warriors sword tip drop at those words as he looked about to concede to the Noble’s tongue but all too quickly he swung a resounding roundhouse strike that would have amputated all but the quickest and most agile in Ambrethel…..”Hey none of that…I tell you someone is trying to frame me….Really does it make any sense that you are here trying to kill a Noble of the house of Rhennigar”
This time Khel could tell that he had finally gotten through to the Ulronai, “Ok now put away that big poker of yours, do the right thing, and help me out of here my friend”.
Taking a circuitous route back to the Rhennigar apartments in Cyradon, Khel wondered what to do with the Ulronai Warrior….turning to his killer come rescuer Khel hoped he was going to get the answer he wanted….”What do you think about getting a little bit of revenge my friend?....So tell me….who was it that hired you anyway? Where were all the guards? Weren’t you a bit suspicious? What’s your story man? Oh my name is Khel Rhennigar by the way and I can tell you right now that anDrok is not going to like you…you know you really should try wearing some better clothes to blend in a bit better…you’re not a very good assassin…sorry…don’t get me wrong you seem like a good warrior and all but that hodge podge of clothes won’t work. Here let me set you up with something more suitable….and would you answer my questions already….what do you mean which ones? Sheeesh maybe you and anDrok will get along….Do I talk too much? No don’t answer that….I’ll send for one of the servants to bring some meats, and ale down to this room….you can stay in this curtained, adjoining room till they leave and I’ll send anDrok to get you set up with a room. Try not to get on his bad side…kind of tough with the aura you give off but I’ll lay down the law for him….speaking of law….I guess I’m a fugitive….hmm….better do something about that. Don’t mind me I need to step out for a couple hours.
With a sigh of relief the exhausted Ulronai Warrior sat beside the curtain enjoying the quiet and solitude that a room without Khel afforded. This being “friends” thing was a tiring business. It would have been simpler to chop him in half….too late now. He’d have to settle for the guy that set him up….although if the guy didn’t stop talking it might be fun to at least cut out his tongue!!
Dror comes to Cyradon
It was late in the day when Dror finally made it to the gates of the city.
'This is best' he thought 'I will be less noticeable in the dim light'. After months of travel away from his tribe, Dror was now used to, and expected the disdain that ordinary people everywhere heaped on him. The curse of the Ulronai people lay heavily on him as he passed unnoticed through the city gates. A woman walking his way noticed him and quickly moved accross to the other side of the street, staring at him as he passed. He was used to this now, every person he had met during this last year's journey had treated him as if he were an outcast.
He noticed a taven sign on a nearby building and headed towards it. As he entered, he braced himself for the inevitable; the place fell silent as he entered and several faces scowled at him before the room returned to its former state. As he approached the bar, people shuffled aside, anxious to stay away from him. The tavern keeper, standing back fom the bar as he approached spoke contemptuously to him "What business have ye here?"
"I bowl of stew and a flagon of ale if you please."
"I don't please. All I've got is soup for the like of you."
"Then soup, thank-you"
The tavern keep moved away to the kitchen and returned with a bowl of watery soup. Placing it on the table he said "That one silver piece, and be on yer way once you've done with it. I don't want no loitering around here by the like o you."
A silver coin for a bowl of soup was outrageous but Dror nodded his assent and placed a silver coin in the tavern keepers palm. No sooner had he done so, than a man from accross the room approached and collared the tavern keeper. "If you're going to charge a silver for this, then at least give my friend here a piece of bread to go with it."
Dror looked up at the stranger, a puzzled look on his face. "Why are you doing this?" he said to the stranger.
"I don't know, you look new to town and in need a friend, mind if I sit?"......
Cut Scene: Two hours later.
Dror walks out of the tavern with a fully belly and a few pints of ale in him. He has a new friend, something he hasn't had before. What's even better he's got work. As his new friend says, "for a few minutes work you can make a lot of money". It's too good to be true. Soon his purse will be full again. He'll meet his friend here tomorrow and then get to work.
Cut Scene: Next day.
"OK. Here's the plan. I've got here a guards uniform that should fit you. It's all been arranged, the other guards won't question you and they have been told to expect a new guy today. Once you get in, find that bastard Rennigar and do him. After that, just walk out and I'll meet you here tomorrow and we can celebrate. Got that?"
"Yah sure. Are you sure this will be OK?"
"Hey, I'm your friend remember? You can trust me. Just do as I say and everything will be alright."
'This is best' he thought 'I will be less noticeable in the dim light'. After months of travel away from his tribe, Dror was now used to, and expected the disdain that ordinary people everywhere heaped on him. The curse of the Ulronai people lay heavily on him as he passed unnoticed through the city gates. A woman walking his way noticed him and quickly moved accross to the other side of the street, staring at him as he passed. He was used to this now, every person he had met during this last year's journey had treated him as if he were an outcast.
He noticed a taven sign on a nearby building and headed towards it. As he entered, he braced himself for the inevitable; the place fell silent as he entered and several faces scowled at him before the room returned to its former state. As he approached the bar, people shuffled aside, anxious to stay away from him. The tavern keeper, standing back fom the bar as he approached spoke contemptuously to him "What business have ye here?"
"I bowl of stew and a flagon of ale if you please."
"I don't please. All I've got is soup for the like of you."
"Then soup, thank-you"
The tavern keep moved away to the kitchen and returned with a bowl of watery soup. Placing it on the table he said "That one silver piece, and be on yer way once you've done with it. I don't want no loitering around here by the like o you."
A silver coin for a bowl of soup was outrageous but Dror nodded his assent and placed a silver coin in the tavern keepers palm. No sooner had he done so, than a man from accross the room approached and collared the tavern keeper. "If you're going to charge a silver for this, then at least give my friend here a piece of bread to go with it."
Dror looked up at the stranger, a puzzled look on his face. "Why are you doing this?" he said to the stranger.
"I don't know, you look new to town and in need a friend, mind if I sit?"......
Cut Scene: Two hours later.
Dror walks out of the tavern with a fully belly and a few pints of ale in him. He has a new friend, something he hasn't had before. What's even better he's got work. As his new friend says, "for a few minutes work you can make a lot of money". It's too good to be true. Soon his purse will be full again. He'll meet his friend here tomorrow and then get to work.
Cut Scene: Next day.
"OK. Here's the plan. I've got here a guards uniform that should fit you. It's all been arranged, the other guards won't question you and they have been told to expect a new guy today. Once you get in, find that bastard Rennigar and do him. After that, just walk out and I'll meet you here tomorrow and we can celebrate. Got that?"
"Yah sure. Are you sure this will be OK?"
"Hey, I'm your friend remember? You can trust me. Just do as I say and everything will be alright."
Foloshal Silverleaf
Name: Folashal Silverleaf
Race: Elven
Born: Ildra Borala, Nephew of current ruler, Tririonsathymar Silverleaf
Descriptors:
2 Silent as an Elf in a brease
3 Quick as an elven archer
2 Lover of nature
2 Unwaverring Will
2 Never Panics (dont worrry, we have plenty of time)
3 Determined
Skills:6 Bows 4d6
3 Nature Sense 2d6
5 Tracking 3d6
2 Herbalism 1d6
5 Beurocracy 3d6
2 Persuasion 2d6
3 Observation 2d6
3 Stealthy 2d6
2 Singing 1d6
2 Riding 1d6
3 Command 2D6
Prime Affinity:
0 Nightvision
0 Elvenholme Knowledge
Matter- 2
Mind 1
Spirit 1
Chaos 1
If i dont know you i will be distant and quiet.
My goal is to bring the races back to their unified state and to become King of kings of the elves.
Loves fine living , wine, parties and the good life. Hates "camping" and being filthy.. Feels that there is a lack of respect from the Elven nobles and is planning on going on the road and finding the four pieces of the Elven Crystal Rod of Rulership "that will show them"
Race: Elven
Born: Ildra Borala, Nephew of current ruler, Tririonsathymar Silverleaf
Descriptors:
2 Silent as an Elf in a brease
3 Quick as an elven archer
2 Lover of nature
2 Unwaverring Will
2 Never Panics (dont worrry, we have plenty of time)
3 Determined
Skills:6 Bows 4d6
3 Nature Sense 2d6
5 Tracking 3d6
2 Herbalism 1d6
5 Beurocracy 3d6
2 Persuasion 2d6
3 Observation 2d6
3 Stealthy 2d6
2 Singing 1d6
2 Riding 1d6
3 Command 2D6
Prime Affinity:
0 Nightvision
0 Elvenholme Knowledge
Matter- 2
Mind 1
Spirit 1
Chaos 1
If i dont know you i will be distant and quiet.
My goal is to bring the races back to their unified state and to become King of kings of the elves.
Loves fine living , wine, parties and the good life. Hates "camping" and being filthy.. Feels that there is a lack of respect from the Elven nobles and is planning on going on the road and finding the four pieces of the Elven Crystal Rod of Rulership "that will show them"
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)