2041
Dwilight / Re: The Crusade against SA
« on: March 24, 2011, 03:39:45 PM »
Aye, they also need impeccable good looks. 
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2042
Dwilight / Re: The Crusade against SA
« on: March 24, 2011, 03:18:45 PM »I didn't say Madina would do anything as a nation to support such a colony atempt....
As we have seen before, a colony can only surivive with lots of funds and constant military support from atleast one realm for the first month or so.
Bah, the original Thulsoma was founded by a mere two men, with 200 gold, and barely enough men for a takeover and surrounded by hordes of monsters and survived until we chose to abandon the nation months later, stronger and more powerful than any other nation in the extreme north. The nations and men of other nations are soft, their nobles pampered by entitlement... Real men, take up sword and found kingdoms through brute personality alone.
2043
Roleplaying / Re: History from the time of the Daimon Arcane
« on: March 24, 2011, 03:07:20 PM »
the Lost tale of Thulsa the Madinan
Thulsa saw the horse in the market , the auctioneer yelled out the going price, raised it and someone in the crowd bet, Thulsa took his purse and counted the coins within, raising the bag he made his bet and the auctioneer noted , after some time of intense betting the horse was won by Thulsa , a brown and white pinto... If he was not to lead an army at this time , for now he would at least ride and see the lands around Madina without walking great distances. He rode the horse towards the main palace to enquire about servants, there was one available and they loaded the horse in the stable with supplies.
"Travelling alone milord?" The servant said looking up at Thulsa, as he adjusted the saddle.
"Aye, This horse will carry me about these lands until my estate is set here, and my remaining boxes and items arrived from the other lands"
Thulsa wrapped a red cloak around himself and chain mail armor, his helmet and sword strapped to the horse. He rode out of the palace gates and went to explore the city of Madina.
"I shall call you "Appular" he patted the horse , for the sands of far Apasur"
Fatmilak tower was creepy, solemn... the feeling of a place that probably was once a bustling fortress , now shadowed and empty was disconcerting. The great tower in its ivory bricks were grime and blackened, most of the buildings around the fortress were damaged in fires. The few residents of the fortress wore rags and hurried about without anything to say. Thulsa brought his men toward the town square with the intent to see if climbing the Fatmilak was possible. He had at times tried to speak with the villagers but they waved him off or closed their doors. No one wanted speak, there were also no children here, nor livestock... In the center of the town there was an altar and upon the altar were rusted chains... Thulsa scanned the buildings and windows facing the square and saw dark figures moving in front of the windows , they would quickly move from view when spotted. A cold chill of ocean air wafted through the square , Thulsa bound his cloak tighter around him , his men looked uneasy, they had travelled far from Virovene and to arrive here in this gloomy place was doing nothing for morale. He ordered his men to fan out in groups of two and find him a peasant and bring him forcibly if need be, back to the keeps square... After some time a shrivelled old man was brought to them kicking and pulling to escape. "'Av not any Shines... AHHHH le' meh be, AHHHHHHH 'Aves not shines fer ye...Blootin Shuggers!" The old man was wailing in his Northern dialect that was barely discernible , but Thulsa made out certain words. " Aye, stop yer strugglin'! What ye on about?" Thulsa grabbed the man by the scruff of his neck. " Scally, yer boots, fer comin' o'er eer an taken or shines, blooting , jus last to the moon , yer blootin teeves , dats whot yer ar" The old man spittled forth his words.
"Aye, we be collectin for, these lands are subject to the now mine , and that be tribute you paid"
Thulsa let go of the old man and then ordered his men to unhand the man and allow him to stand on his own two feet " Now what be the reason fer this here altar an chains?" " Oh, blootin Shuggers, comin 'eer all the days, comin so finally , we star' leavin' them meats... " "Meats?" "Aye,sacrfishen" the man wobbled on his feet. "Sacrificing what?" "them childruns , sire... Them Shuggers deman'dud we be leavin ar childruns fer dem or dem keel all of us" The man looked scared his eyes flicked around the square, he was looking as if he had said to much and it seemed as if he wanted to run. Thulsa held him firm with his eyes. " Shuggers? what be this ye ramble of?" "Shuggers... Draggers...shamb'lin bludsukkers!" "You mean monsters?" "Aye..that be one namer fer dem" The man cowed and his head turned ever wich way " now 'ave enoff of me ? aye? let meh go now?" Thulsa nodded, and the man scampered away back into the dark fortress. So the people here had decided to placate the monsters, sacrificing and trying like cowards to keep the blasted devils of their backs, Thulsa spit into the dust and then ordered his men to scale the Fatmilak, he had a reckoning to see the far coast of the old Candiels lands. On the horizon far in the mist the coast of Candiels could be seen, but the view was muddied by a fog like haze, and Thulsa wondered what lay beyond it. " We will set up camp here , and Cap'n , I need you to put together a work detail ... Chop some tree's , we will be using this tower ... dont stray far... Bring the wood to the shore when done..." The night passed, with the sound of the shore crashing on the cliffs of Fatmilak, the howling of wind through empty windows...
The small barely sea worthy rafts were completed, they lay on the shore , the sun was setting , darkness would be frought with dangers , but it was the only way that Thulsa could be sure that nothing saw him leave this place nor would see him approach Fatmilak . They pushed the rafts out and waded into the murky waters. Looking back at the tower of Fatmilak , a sun ray glinted off of its spire , before the fiery orb sunk into nothingness...
Several hours pass...
The boats drifted , silently ... alone, the sea was flat like a looking glass, and peerin within it , the stars above would reflect upon its surface and the men could even see their own faces in the waves.
The boats jolted... The men awoke from their monotonous rowing and saw over the sides of their rafts, below in the blackness , the black blue scales of large schools of primitive fish reeled around in circles below the boats, saucer shaped eyes looked up at them , yellow orbs .... Ancient sea fish, like Ceolocanths , beaked faces , at times their tails would lick the air and then they would dive back down, they were feeding on glowing plankton. The nerves of the men would slowly subside and then back to rowing .
At times below the waves, men would swear that they saw mountains pass below, and then others would say that they were actually structures, long lost empty ghosts of ancient empires and ages never remembered...
And still they flowed , over still waters , their oars on the glass plain...
Thulsa sat in the prow and finally when the moon did slowly ignite the sky and pass over the raft, he lay on his back and watched it , as if he himself was floating towards its face and he wondered to himself what peoples did live upon its surface and who did sail upon its black seas...
He dipped his sword in the waters , and cut the surface of the waters skin... below the ancient fish did scatter and left a trail of glowing dust in their wake. And there it was within his mind an image , an ocean of fire did engulf the lands and from it poured molten screaming wolves...
He awoke, the boats still. There was no rowing , his men sat pointing out towards the horizon ... Thulsa turned and pulled himself up from the prow and
saw it coming ... but by then it was already to late...
The camp was silent on the plains of Agl, yet everyone was feeling edgy a smell of goat stench or some other pungent stink was wafting through the air and the men of Thulsas contingent refused to sleep , no fire was lit , the scouts had reported seeing strange things on the horizons... Thulsa ordered his men to keep their arms at their sides and to watch out...
Then it happened out of the darkness, howling and then the sound of fast thumping feet on the grass, and from out of the darkness they lunged catapulted themselves through the air like ghosts a horde of hairy bat like glowing eyed horrors crashed through the camp and the battle was joined.
A beast grabbed a man and flung him across the camp , shattering him upon the ground, Thulsa called out and then begin to wind his sword around his head chopping into the melee, blood and gore , the swinging blades of the small troop of 8 men hauled into the wet stench and flesh of the beasts.
Thulsa hacked into the side of one monster and brought it down but by then he was joined by 3 other holwing beasts , he sliced off ones arm and then watched as 3 of his men fell before his eyes the monsters tearing out their entrails before he could react, Thulsa hacked one monsters head off and managed to drag out the screaming soldier, but in the act merely tore his own man in half for another bat beast did grab the legs and gnaw through the stomach.
Now they were collected in the center 5 men , swinging their blades and firing arrows when they could, but the monsters were attacking so fast and their numbers were possible 20 or 30 , for no one had time to count. And then they were tackled and a monster did lock his jaws into Thulsas sword and break it , and another man was brought down his face smashed by a hail of large stones. pummeled from all sides Thulsa yelled the order to make a dash , he knew that now they must run , for is they stood in this spot the monsters would obliterate them , but for how long could they run?
No matter, Thulsa hauled up a soldier on his back who was merely a pile of smashed limbs and blood and the remaining 3 soldiers began a dead run across an empty plain...
Heart pounding in his chest , the blood and air screaming through his burning lungs , the man he carried was eventually so heavy , but then Thulsa saw a rift in the earth before them , a gully a dry river bed that dropped down 6 ft. into sand, Thulsa found a small hole and pushed the man inside and then Thulsa covered him with sand . That was all he could do to mask his scent.
Then Thulsa collected his remaining two men and they made it up the other side of the bank, a beast grabbed one man , and ripped his neck out before Thulsa could make it back to the straggler, keep running... dont stop , behind them the bat like beings howled and ran at full force. Thulsa tore his armor from his body and kept running , the other man behind Thulsa a few paces fell to the ground and called out, a mere few yards behind the bats had cleared the distance, no time... Thulsa drew his bow and fired a shot wide, it missed and fell away into the grass, drew his sword and brought it down on a bat beast that had tackled him, smashing the batbeasts bloody brains out with the pommel of his sword, the screams of the man could be heard in the night and Thulsa felt the bat beast in its deaththroes bury its teeth into his arm, he pulled his dagger out and begin to frantically stab , there were beasts all around and he stabbed from the ground... Now he was on his feet and slicing , he kept running , he wasnt sure how he made it out , the beasts were attacking eachother in the chaos now and one unlucky brute was being torn apart, no time...
THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD... was that his heart or feet? He knew not for all that carried him now in his dead run was the adrenaline of what had happened...
He awoke the next morning , nearly falling from the limb of a sole tree , desolate , wounded and alone ... for now nothing could be seen from his perch... yet between him and the horizon there were no places to hide...
Endless plains and sun, long had the monsters receded into the nightmares of days gone. Still Thulsa walked, ahead a pall of smoke, or was it dust could be seen coming on towards Thulsa. He stood and viewed . It was a coach of some sort and as it grew closer , Thulsa could see that it was very ornate and drawn by white horses... His luck had changed...
Parched and sunburned he waved a piece of cloth towards the coach and it saw him and slowed to a halt. A man came from the coach dressed in ornate attire and his hair was covered by a white powdered wig. Onboard a man sat in dour expression and
held a crossbow over his lap.
" Ahoy! Hahahh! fancy fancy!" the man yelled out waving joyfully and walking towards Thulsa, He flitted towards him and was dabbing his face with a kerchief.
"what have we here? hahahha!, oh oh what have? who art thou?" He bowed low and then did a curtsey and then twirled around.
" I am a Noble of Madina, and a Knight of Lugugan, I request that you help me, I am in need of water and transportation out of this waste" Thulsa bowed to the man.
" HHAHHHAHHHA, oh boy, oh boy ... haw haw, A noble? , not unlike myself aye? aye?" The man skittered about.
"Aye" Thulsa felt uncomfortable something was not right with this man, his skin now in closer expression was powdered but under it was scabs , dry skin and his teeth were a mash of gums and yellow jagged stones.
" Aye, aye ... "
Behind the man , the carriage door opened and out tumbled 3 drunken and filthy men , on their heads were tiara's and gaudy crowns , they all held crossbows , and pointed them at Thulsa.
" See , let me see... AHHHAHH, let me see what you dost haveth there... mi..mi..lord" The man pointed at Thulsa's coin bag. The man did quickly slice the bag from the belt and took the coins. Thulsa stood still , his arms raised. The man tossed the bag behind him and laughed hysterically... The others also laughed.
" Ye , hahahhah have been robbed milord, and remember who it t'was , fer we are the "Celtiberian jolly Brother bandits" ! " He said with a flourish, and tossed the coin bag behind him, he bowed and moved back towards the carriage, standing on the doorway steps , he commanded the driver to move , but as the carriage passed he tossed a skin of water from the carriage.
" Good luck! Milord...HAHHHAHHAHHAHHAHAHHAH"
The carriage was gone and Thulsa was left slightly lighter, the waterskin was near full and refreshing. He watched the carriage sink below the horizon and by now the sun was also low in the sky... Nothing more now to but walk...
Thulsas hidden purse of gold coins clinking inside his shirt the only sound...
Paisly... Early morning...Day unknown
The flat plain rolled away and far off could be seen the city of Paisly. Thulsa trudged in an undead like daze, his clothing in tatters, dragging his sword in the dirt , he lurched towards the city gates.
"Thats as far as ye gonna go!" A guard on the far top of the wall yelled down , then was quickly joined by several others , they peered down and drew their bows.
" Sir? Is it an undead straggler?" One of the wall guards said leaning over the wall said while spitting down.
" Hell if I know, sure looks like one" The guard captain said..
Thulsa lurched forward a few more steps and then stopped dead still and fell to his knees. He could be heard murmuring from down below and the men on the wall recoiled in fear.
" Oh lord, it is an Undead! listen to its terrible sounds!"
" Bloody well shoot it now!"
" Hold yer fire, !@#$... Its one Deadhead , go down and hack its head off, blasted greenhorns, bow ain't no use against an Undead"
A recruit grabbed an axe and as he passed by another recruit smacked him in the helmet " Duh!"
" oi piss off"
the instigating soldier danced around like a monkey while the other made his way down the stairs.
The gate swung open and the recruit came tip-toeing out holding the axe close to his self.
"be careful!THEMS HAVE FANGS AND LASHY TONGUES!" Someone yelled from above on the wall.
" Shadap, bloody hell" The guard captain rhetorted.
The recruit edged forward, now Thulsa was laying on his face, he stretched his arms out to beg , to plead.
" Oi ! tryin to grab ye, chop its bloody arms off!" a recruit yelled down
"Shadap! just get the damn head" The captain swung around and could be heard giving the recruits head a smack with his guantlet.
Bringing the blade of the axe up , the greenhorn prepared to bring it down, when
Thulsa began yelling as loud as he could. The greenhorn spooked dropped the axe and ran back towards the gate, the whole time sputtering and tripping allover himself and his outsized armor.
" Bloody hell, its human...Get back there you git and bring him inside" The guard captain yelled down to the greenhorn.
Thulsa faded into blackness...
Thulsa saw the horse in the market , the auctioneer yelled out the going price, raised it and someone in the crowd bet, Thulsa took his purse and counted the coins within, raising the bag he made his bet and the auctioneer noted , after some time of intense betting the horse was won by Thulsa , a brown and white pinto... If he was not to lead an army at this time , for now he would at least ride and see the lands around Madina without walking great distances. He rode the horse towards the main palace to enquire about servants, there was one available and they loaded the horse in the stable with supplies.
"Travelling alone milord?" The servant said looking up at Thulsa, as he adjusted the saddle.
"Aye, This horse will carry me about these lands until my estate is set here, and my remaining boxes and items arrived from the other lands"
Thulsa wrapped a red cloak around himself and chain mail armor, his helmet and sword strapped to the horse. He rode out of the palace gates and went to explore the city of Madina.
"I shall call you "Appular" he patted the horse , for the sands of far Apasur"
Fatmilak tower was creepy, solemn... the feeling of a place that probably was once a bustling fortress , now shadowed and empty was disconcerting. The great tower in its ivory bricks were grime and blackened, most of the buildings around the fortress were damaged in fires. The few residents of the fortress wore rags and hurried about without anything to say. Thulsa brought his men toward the town square with the intent to see if climbing the Fatmilak was possible. He had at times tried to speak with the villagers but they waved him off or closed their doors. No one wanted speak, there were also no children here, nor livestock... In the center of the town there was an altar and upon the altar were rusted chains... Thulsa scanned the buildings and windows facing the square and saw dark figures moving in front of the windows , they would quickly move from view when spotted. A cold chill of ocean air wafted through the square , Thulsa bound his cloak tighter around him , his men looked uneasy, they had travelled far from Virovene and to arrive here in this gloomy place was doing nothing for morale. He ordered his men to fan out in groups of two and find him a peasant and bring him forcibly if need be, back to the keeps square... After some time a shrivelled old man was brought to them kicking and pulling to escape. "'Av not any Shines... AHHHH le' meh be, AHHHHHHH 'Aves not shines fer ye...Blootin Shuggers!" The old man was wailing in his Northern dialect that was barely discernible , but Thulsa made out certain words. " Aye, stop yer strugglin'! What ye on about?" Thulsa grabbed the man by the scruff of his neck. " Scally, yer boots, fer comin' o'er eer an taken or shines, blooting , jus last to the moon , yer blootin teeves , dats whot yer ar" The old man spittled forth his words.
"Aye, we be collectin for, these lands are subject to the now mine , and that be tribute you paid"
Thulsa let go of the old man and then ordered his men to unhand the man and allow him to stand on his own two feet " Now what be the reason fer this here altar an chains?" " Oh, blootin Shuggers, comin 'eer all the days, comin so finally , we star' leavin' them meats... " "Meats?" "Aye,sacrfishen" the man wobbled on his feet. "Sacrificing what?" "them childruns , sire... Them Shuggers deman'dud we be leavin ar childruns fer dem or dem keel all of us" The man looked scared his eyes flicked around the square, he was looking as if he had said to much and it seemed as if he wanted to run. Thulsa held him firm with his eyes. " Shuggers? what be this ye ramble of?" "Shuggers... Draggers...shamb'lin bludsukkers!" "You mean monsters?" "Aye..that be one namer fer dem" The man cowed and his head turned ever wich way " now 'ave enoff of me ? aye? let meh go now?" Thulsa nodded, and the man scampered away back into the dark fortress. So the people here had decided to placate the monsters, sacrificing and trying like cowards to keep the blasted devils of their backs, Thulsa spit into the dust and then ordered his men to scale the Fatmilak, he had a reckoning to see the far coast of the old Candiels lands. On the horizon far in the mist the coast of Candiels could be seen, but the view was muddied by a fog like haze, and Thulsa wondered what lay beyond it. " We will set up camp here , and Cap'n , I need you to put together a work detail ... Chop some tree's , we will be using this tower ... dont stray far... Bring the wood to the shore when done..." The night passed, with the sound of the shore crashing on the cliffs of Fatmilak, the howling of wind through empty windows...
The small barely sea worthy rafts were completed, they lay on the shore , the sun was setting , darkness would be frought with dangers , but it was the only way that Thulsa could be sure that nothing saw him leave this place nor would see him approach Fatmilak . They pushed the rafts out and waded into the murky waters. Looking back at the tower of Fatmilak , a sun ray glinted off of its spire , before the fiery orb sunk into nothingness...
Several hours pass...
The boats drifted , silently ... alone, the sea was flat like a looking glass, and peerin within it , the stars above would reflect upon its surface and the men could even see their own faces in the waves.
The boats jolted... The men awoke from their monotonous rowing and saw over the sides of their rafts, below in the blackness , the black blue scales of large schools of primitive fish reeled around in circles below the boats, saucer shaped eyes looked up at them , yellow orbs .... Ancient sea fish, like Ceolocanths , beaked faces , at times their tails would lick the air and then they would dive back down, they were feeding on glowing plankton. The nerves of the men would slowly subside and then back to rowing .
At times below the waves, men would swear that they saw mountains pass below, and then others would say that they were actually structures, long lost empty ghosts of ancient empires and ages never remembered...
And still they flowed , over still waters , their oars on the glass plain...
Thulsa sat in the prow and finally when the moon did slowly ignite the sky and pass over the raft, he lay on his back and watched it , as if he himself was floating towards its face and he wondered to himself what peoples did live upon its surface and who did sail upon its black seas...
He dipped his sword in the waters , and cut the surface of the waters skin... below the ancient fish did scatter and left a trail of glowing dust in their wake. And there it was within his mind an image , an ocean of fire did engulf the lands and from it poured molten screaming wolves...
He awoke, the boats still. There was no rowing , his men sat pointing out towards the horizon ... Thulsa turned and pulled himself up from the prow and
saw it coming ... but by then it was already to late...
The camp was silent on the plains of Agl, yet everyone was feeling edgy a smell of goat stench or some other pungent stink was wafting through the air and the men of Thulsas contingent refused to sleep , no fire was lit , the scouts had reported seeing strange things on the horizons... Thulsa ordered his men to keep their arms at their sides and to watch out...
Then it happened out of the darkness, howling and then the sound of fast thumping feet on the grass, and from out of the darkness they lunged catapulted themselves through the air like ghosts a horde of hairy bat like glowing eyed horrors crashed through the camp and the battle was joined.
A beast grabbed a man and flung him across the camp , shattering him upon the ground, Thulsa called out and then begin to wind his sword around his head chopping into the melee, blood and gore , the swinging blades of the small troop of 8 men hauled into the wet stench and flesh of the beasts.
Thulsa hacked into the side of one monster and brought it down but by then he was joined by 3 other holwing beasts , he sliced off ones arm and then watched as 3 of his men fell before his eyes the monsters tearing out their entrails before he could react, Thulsa hacked one monsters head off and managed to drag out the screaming soldier, but in the act merely tore his own man in half for another bat beast did grab the legs and gnaw through the stomach.
Now they were collected in the center 5 men , swinging their blades and firing arrows when they could, but the monsters were attacking so fast and their numbers were possible 20 or 30 , for no one had time to count. And then they were tackled and a monster did lock his jaws into Thulsas sword and break it , and another man was brought down his face smashed by a hail of large stones. pummeled from all sides Thulsa yelled the order to make a dash , he knew that now they must run , for is they stood in this spot the monsters would obliterate them , but for how long could they run?
No matter, Thulsa hauled up a soldier on his back who was merely a pile of smashed limbs and blood and the remaining 3 soldiers began a dead run across an empty plain...
Heart pounding in his chest , the blood and air screaming through his burning lungs , the man he carried was eventually so heavy , but then Thulsa saw a rift in the earth before them , a gully a dry river bed that dropped down 6 ft. into sand, Thulsa found a small hole and pushed the man inside and then Thulsa covered him with sand . That was all he could do to mask his scent.
Then Thulsa collected his remaining two men and they made it up the other side of the bank, a beast grabbed one man , and ripped his neck out before Thulsa could make it back to the straggler, keep running... dont stop , behind them the bat like beings howled and ran at full force. Thulsa tore his armor from his body and kept running , the other man behind Thulsa a few paces fell to the ground and called out, a mere few yards behind the bats had cleared the distance, no time... Thulsa drew his bow and fired a shot wide, it missed and fell away into the grass, drew his sword and brought it down on a bat beast that had tackled him, smashing the batbeasts bloody brains out with the pommel of his sword, the screams of the man could be heard in the night and Thulsa felt the bat beast in its deaththroes bury its teeth into his arm, he pulled his dagger out and begin to frantically stab , there were beasts all around and he stabbed from the ground... Now he was on his feet and slicing , he kept running , he wasnt sure how he made it out , the beasts were attacking eachother in the chaos now and one unlucky brute was being torn apart, no time...
THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD... was that his heart or feet? He knew not for all that carried him now in his dead run was the adrenaline of what had happened...
He awoke the next morning , nearly falling from the limb of a sole tree , desolate , wounded and alone ... for now nothing could be seen from his perch... yet between him and the horizon there were no places to hide...
Endless plains and sun, long had the monsters receded into the nightmares of days gone. Still Thulsa walked, ahead a pall of smoke, or was it dust could be seen coming on towards Thulsa. He stood and viewed . It was a coach of some sort and as it grew closer , Thulsa could see that it was very ornate and drawn by white horses... His luck had changed...
Parched and sunburned he waved a piece of cloth towards the coach and it saw him and slowed to a halt. A man came from the coach dressed in ornate attire and his hair was covered by a white powdered wig. Onboard a man sat in dour expression and
held a crossbow over his lap.
" Ahoy! Hahahh! fancy fancy!" the man yelled out waving joyfully and walking towards Thulsa, He flitted towards him and was dabbing his face with a kerchief.
"what have we here? hahahha!, oh oh what have? who art thou?" He bowed low and then did a curtsey and then twirled around.
" I am a Noble of Madina, and a Knight of Lugugan, I request that you help me, I am in need of water and transportation out of this waste" Thulsa bowed to the man.
" HHAHHHAHHHA, oh boy, oh boy ... haw haw, A noble? , not unlike myself aye? aye?" The man skittered about.
"Aye" Thulsa felt uncomfortable something was not right with this man, his skin now in closer expression was powdered but under it was scabs , dry skin and his teeth were a mash of gums and yellow jagged stones.
" Aye, aye ... "
Behind the man , the carriage door opened and out tumbled 3 drunken and filthy men , on their heads were tiara's and gaudy crowns , they all held crossbows , and pointed them at Thulsa.
" See , let me see... AHHHAHH, let me see what you dost haveth there... mi..mi..lord" The man pointed at Thulsa's coin bag. The man did quickly slice the bag from the belt and took the coins. Thulsa stood still , his arms raised. The man tossed the bag behind him and laughed hysterically... The others also laughed.
" Ye , hahahhah have been robbed milord, and remember who it t'was , fer we are the "Celtiberian jolly Brother bandits" ! " He said with a flourish, and tossed the coin bag behind him, he bowed and moved back towards the carriage, standing on the doorway steps , he commanded the driver to move , but as the carriage passed he tossed a skin of water from the carriage.
" Good luck! Milord...HAHHHAHHAHHAHHAHAHHAH"
The carriage was gone and Thulsa was left slightly lighter, the waterskin was near full and refreshing. He watched the carriage sink below the horizon and by now the sun was also low in the sky... Nothing more now to but walk...
Thulsas hidden purse of gold coins clinking inside his shirt the only sound...
Paisly... Early morning...Day unknown
The flat plain rolled away and far off could be seen the city of Paisly. Thulsa trudged in an undead like daze, his clothing in tatters, dragging his sword in the dirt , he lurched towards the city gates.
"Thats as far as ye gonna go!" A guard on the far top of the wall yelled down , then was quickly joined by several others , they peered down and drew their bows.
" Sir? Is it an undead straggler?" One of the wall guards said leaning over the wall said while spitting down.
" Hell if I know, sure looks like one" The guard captain said..
Thulsa lurched forward a few more steps and then stopped dead still and fell to his knees. He could be heard murmuring from down below and the men on the wall recoiled in fear.
" Oh lord, it is an Undead! listen to its terrible sounds!"
" Bloody well shoot it now!"
" Hold yer fire, !@#$... Its one Deadhead , go down and hack its head off, blasted greenhorns, bow ain't no use against an Undead"
A recruit grabbed an axe and as he passed by another recruit smacked him in the helmet " Duh!"
" oi piss off"
the instigating soldier danced around like a monkey while the other made his way down the stairs.
The gate swung open and the recruit came tip-toeing out holding the axe close to his self.
"be careful!THEMS HAVE FANGS AND LASHY TONGUES!" Someone yelled from above on the wall.
" Shadap, bloody hell" The guard captain rhetorted.
The recruit edged forward, now Thulsa was laying on his face, he stretched his arms out to beg , to plead.
" Oi ! tryin to grab ye, chop its bloody arms off!" a recruit yelled down
"Shadap! just get the damn head" The captain swung around and could be heard giving the recruits head a smack with his guantlet.
Bringing the blade of the axe up , the greenhorn prepared to bring it down, when
Thulsa began yelling as loud as he could. The greenhorn spooked dropped the axe and ran back towards the gate, the whole time sputtering and tripping allover himself and his outsized armor.
" Bloody hell, its human...Get back there you git and bring him inside" The guard captain yelled down to the greenhorn.
Thulsa faded into blackness...
2044
Roleplaying / Re: History from the time of the Daimon Arcane
« on: March 24, 2011, 02:53:59 PM »
A piece of the lost tale of Silogath, possessed by the shiny shield of Larmbesi, he died to the executioners blade and his tale was never finished.
Silogath coughed into a bloody rag and stumbled , he was having a coughing fit. People in Idapur wandered by looking at him . He pulled a small green bottle from his clothing and greedily drank the mixture tonic within. His fit subsided. He wandered the streets in a strange daze...
Soon finding a dark alley he crawled into it and from his back he pulled his shiny shield of Larmbesi , the reflection on it danced before his eyes, his face within the shield was old , his mouth and skin covered in red sores...
"Shiny shield... What have I become?"
The shields reflection shimmered, and there was Silogath's face looking out at him, the face was unrecognizable at first, but when Silogaths milk coated eyes cleared he saw his own face, young and healthy looking .
"Let.. me.. be.. you.. " a voice came from the shield.
"Yes...yes...but not now, it is not time" Silogath hissed into the reflection, the shield danced with light and a picture appeared moving across its shimmering face.
A man was riding alone in a forest , and around him were many wild dogs, there was a brook and when the rider and horse entered into the water they came out as if men. Then as like snakes they fell to their belly's and slithered across the ground , the man on the horse had no face when he washed it within the water.
The shield faded and alone again in the dark alley, Silogath fell into a deep sleep.
Silogath coughed into a bloody rag and stumbled , he was having a coughing fit. People in Idapur wandered by looking at him . He pulled a small green bottle from his clothing and greedily drank the mixture tonic within. His fit subsided. He wandered the streets in a strange daze...
Soon finding a dark alley he crawled into it and from his back he pulled his shiny shield of Larmbesi , the reflection on it danced before his eyes, his face within the shield was old , his mouth and skin covered in red sores...
"Shiny shield... What have I become?"
The shields reflection shimmered, and there was Silogath's face looking out at him, the face was unrecognizable at first, but when Silogaths milk coated eyes cleared he saw his own face, young and healthy looking .
"Let.. me.. be.. you.. " a voice came from the shield.
"Yes...yes...but not now, it is not time" Silogath hissed into the reflection, the shield danced with light and a picture appeared moving across its shimmering face.
A man was riding alone in a forest , and around him were many wild dogs, there was a brook and when the rider and horse entered into the water they came out as if men. Then as like snakes they fell to their belly's and slithered across the ground , the man on the horse had no face when he washed it within the water.
The shield faded and alone again in the dark alley, Silogath fell into a deep sleep.
2045
Roleplaying / Re: History of the founding of Thulsoma.
« on: March 24, 2011, 02:03:18 PM »
Glaumring and his men had fought for weeks on end, food a place to sleep , even to remove ones armor was near impossible, if men could survive on moments of sleep they did. Fight and sleep, fight and sleep. And then one night they stopped and all was silent. The Monsters that had been howling and scaling the walls all week... Were gone.
The sky was clear, it was overcast but the moon was full, at times the clouds would break and light from the moon would come through and stars could be seen in the inky background.
Glaumring took a moment of time and sat with his star disc, on the wall, a moment of reflection, he lined up the moon and then drew a line across space, he found a collection of stars, the hunter, the maiden... But the Bloodstars were not there.
He rose and double checked, where were the stars? He turned and looked in panic across the courtyard... Where were the stars? The stars fluctuated but never had he seen them in darkness... Was it a sign?
Storms end was already a hell hole, and that was before the monsters and then the undead had come. The barren cleared land of trenches and monster kites was awash with more terrible images that surpassed the manmade contraptions that were supposed to strike fear in whatever deigned to come here. The frail and dirty citizenry, the peasants who squabbled and dug their pathetic existence from the muck and mire around the bulwarks of Storms end had been decimated. For miles great wooden steaks had been carved by the beasts and impaled upon them in rank maggot fly infested evil were the smashed and broken bodies of countless hundreds of men and women, hung, tied and beaten and half eaten.
King Glaumring rode his slow horse down from the Storms keep and felt saddened, not so much for the loss of life but for the loss of their defenses and now the hatred the peasants felt for high Thulsomans, they threw rocks and called names from their hiding spots. They mocked the general and his men. The wretched lot of filthy peasants would not be easily converted now.
King Glaumring dismounted from his horse and walked towards a ramshackle defense that the peasants had dug out and made with logs, he climbed the front and peered over the side. Down there huddled with makeshift bows and clubs were a sorry looking assortment of men and children, the women had long been destroyed, carried away and none now were here.
"Peoples of Storms end, I assure you now that we are here and will not leave... For you the darkness has passed and the storm has ended... Allow us back, we promise that we will not let you down."
The peasants were like animals, docile and weary. They dropped their weaponry and in their faces tears could be seen , streaking the mud from their faces.
They were too weak to fight here... but elsewhere, Glaumring knew that the peasants would not give up so easily. Even now , the king lamented having to fight his own people...
King Glaumring had heard there was newly arrived noble in the realm. He sat heavily in his makeshift chair under his banners in the mud. Nothing covered him from the rain. He sat with his fist ground into the side of his head in perpetual deep thought. When he was told he barely understood, and then was startled. As if awakening from a bad dream, he shook off whatever he was thinking before and was all of a sudden very animated.
"Send in this noble to me... This man must be extremely brave or extraordinarily... Crazy for coming up here through this infested region".
Glaumring grabbed the nearest servant and shook him roughly, they had failed to tell him it was not just a mere noble, it was the very Ambassador of holy Corsanctum, here in this infested hellhole. He straightened himself and dug inside his pouch and pulled out his dented tin crown and placed it awkwardly on his head, he fastened his bear cloak around him, hollaring and cursing all the while he made his men gather whatever tarpaline to make a tent, he gave an order that wine appear even if by magic in that tent, he did not care where it came from as long as it was there... And a fire!
The Ambassador was sure to feel that Thulsomans were an uncivilized lot for none had even bathed in about 3 weeks nor shaven, their clothing was mud and bloodied. Compared to the civilized south, this lot would look like a mere chiefdom or plot for a rabble warlord.
Things were done hastily, everyone was unproffessional, no one knew the proper edicate, but after a while everything was as ordered and Glaumring stood and waited impatiently for word from General Randemicos to arrive with the Ambassador.
The bottle of wine upon the table, a dish of Bloodmoon fruit and some dried fish... a chunk of horseflesh. Now all there was was to wait.
The ten flap is opened by a rough looking worn out soldier, he greets you with his head bowed, and when he grasps your hand he slips a small red nut or fruit into your palm, he mutters some unknown langauge and then touches his forehead.
"You have been blessed by the stars and the fruit that grows from their light, you may now enter, please relax there is no need for formalities now, any outsider who braves the trip to Thulsoma is considered a brother, you may eat as you wish and there is wine, I am afraid that the food is not what you would eat in Corsanctum. Come sit with me and rest..."
The soldier then leaves the room. In the back of the tent by a small bronze cauldron, sits a man draped in bear fur, a small crown sits dull upon his brow. He stands and touches his forehead with the same red fruit that the soldier blessed you with, he then places it on the small table by his side.
" Come brother of the stars, come and sit you must be tired and I am eager for your tales of the outside world, sit and eat and warm yourself by the fire."
Glaumring poured some wine into a clay cup and laid it on the table in front of Ambassador Aelwolf. he then rummaged in his belt and pulled out a clay pipe and tobacco and stuffed it, lit it and then spoke.
"It is fantastic to finally meet you, I hope that you can forgive us for the arrangements, we have just gotten here and the place has been ransacked for several weeks. I am actually going back to Storms Keep and there I can better host you, we are finishing the last of our defenses and I would like for you to see them and meet my people. Storms Keep is much better suited for our talks and there I can have your room set up and it will look out onto the ocean"
Glaumring motions to the plates and the wine.
"But first drink and eat, sleep for a time... When we arrive in Storms keep we can better speak, I have many things to speak with you about. Your arrival was unexpected and has lightened all of our hearts and eased our minds, for so long we have felt isolated from the grand lands of the south and the intrigue and court life."
Glaumring puffed his pipe briefly and then leaned forward,
" Let us speak idle and of light topics for now, Storms end is so dreary and there is nothing but death all about, tell me what of the southlands? How does Corsanctum fare? How does the High Prophet do? Did you see anything interesting upon the journey northward?"
They arrived and for once in a while the weather was clear and the sun could be seen on the ocean. It was still very wet though and Storms Keep, though nothing like Storms end in its desolation was still a very ramshackle assortment. Of course one could see the fort had a new pallisade to finally protect from the monsters.
"Ambassador Aelwolf, welcome to Storms Keep... The free peoples of Thulsoma, the eaters of the bloodmoon fruit, if you will follow me , I will show you your room and then at your leisure we can talk."
Ambassador,
I know that my kingdom is a mere impoverished dust mote on this land and probably is barely mentioned elsewhere, but what has been said about us? I am fairly certain and have heard that Morek is basically silently betting that we will crumble, that a mere stronghold cannot maintain itself, that money alone was the indication of a leaders worth. I worry not for their words for already we have done the impossible, even getting this far and building our first protective wall was deemed impossible, I know different...For it is not the size of the kingdom, nor its coffers but the very makeup of its men that decides its future... For nothing can crush the strongest of souls...yet kingdoms will crumble for nothing at all.
Glaumring steadied his horse as Aelwolf mounted his own, already now the morning sunlight had shifted and the turned the common bleak grey and storm clouds began their march inland, the rolling of thunder across the sky far away but coming fast.
" Aye, Averoth... The leader Serpentis before he was deposed, I have a brother in a far land who served with him... Of course that is all I know of their relations for my brothers do not speak with me often... Not since I left Port Raviel... So long ago now it seems... I felt that I could have worked with Serpentis and that is why I signed a peace agreement, you see... I have been speaking with Summerdale, and Averoth under Serpentis... to create a United northern penninsula kingdom, all independent yet federated to defend this meager strip of land... Alas, Averoth is to be destroyed and rightly so, and Summerdale is paranoid and fears everything around it... So, I defend this strip of lland with my men and we do well enough...There is a benefit to being forgotten by the world outside... We are of no threat, nor strategic value."
They kicked their horses and slowly their horses plodded forward, riding side by side, when they reached the edge of Storms Keep and the great manmade wind kite beasts of Storms end could be seen and the manmade wind howlers heard a mournful sound of a horn could be heard in long drones across the land coming from Storms keep.
"They play that horn for you Aelwolf, on the very top of Storms keep...The horn of the sun, it cries only when it rains and when men leave the keep to other lands... I hope that you may hear it another day for it calls you to return..."
Glaumring was silent as the horn called out in long deep drones, the blighted grey land with flecks of rain and billous clouds blanketed overhead, the damp land of green stretched back towards the Storms end.
The Patrol froze in their tracks, on the outside of the walls wounded and pulling itself across the ground,streaking blood on the grass... Was a monster, still alive.
The troops drew their bows and surrounded the pathetic beast, they had rarely seen dead monsters even after a fight since so many of the bodies were taken back after an attack, it was even rarer to find a live one...
The beast was batlike, leathery and mottled with black spots, its face was vaguely human, rat and Daimon , its eyes yellow , darting about in fear. It recoiled and then wound itself in its wings fetal like on the ground and screamed. It was screaming in words first and then in whatever bastard tongue it did speak amongst its brethern, but all who stood around it knew what it had said.
Hulutha ahath..grod Bloodstars! Ackthrooroth, isolate...deemed, akthruthruh, ALTHRUTHA HIGH PROPHET AKLTH HYTHOTHAFYN!!!
One of the soldiers kicked it and wound a cord around its arms and tied it, they deemed to bring it before the King and find out what they should do to this speaking beast, King Glaumring listened to their tale and as Ambassador Aelwolf mounted his horse he stopped him.
Aelwolf! Stop! before you go... Take this beast with you in cage... It will make a wonderful gift for those in Corsanctum to study... Perhaps it can teach them something about humanity? I have no need for such a beast, for here in the lands of Storms we have plenty...Be known that this is the first monster to be captured anywhere across this land. I wonder what tales it could tell?
And with that the beast was loaded in cage upon a donkey and tied to Ambassador Aelwolfs steed, and there they were led out of the small fortification and into the rising sun.
King Glaumring watched as Aelwolf faded away, and he was saddened by the day... Once again, they would face the day alone...
Torrential rain for days drowned the land in mud and mire, with heavy clouds here in Torrents breath, with raging river all around the sound of boulders being pounded by the breath of the black water, far off on the horizon shrouded by cloud and dark was Mt.Black Nostrond, forever hidden from view on this side of the penninsula.
King Glaumring was wet as always, with his great bear cloak pulled close around him, the sole village, a collection of ramshackle huts and brothels, vapid eyed malnourished children, orphans and men who had long abandoned the fall of Springdale, here huddled in this border refugee like enclave. Bear fights and dogs barked mad through cages lined on the side of the muddy walk. The Huts were smoke filled, where butter was churned into foul tea and liquor was distilled from the waters of the nearby river. Mean eyed men played bones on the bodies of recently dead, they won boots and gold teeth from the corpses.
Glaumrings eyes surveyed the town and none gave him heed, he was merely another warlord, a man with sword who would would pass by and never to return in their minds. Torrents breath and its minions were fiercely independent. They had never been subjegated. Glaumring moved to the center of the town with purpose his men trailed behind, Storm General Randemicos had surrounded the village and was already arresting smugglers and shifty peasants, nothing came or went without notice, yet none within the village stirred, this had happened before and they had beaten back the takeover force... They would like last time act docile and then when the guard was down murder this collection of men called Thulsomans.
"I hereby declare this village and surrounding land subject to the wills and laws of King Glaumring the Thulsoman ruler of the Kingdom of Bloodmoon..." General Randemicos could be heard yelling through the rain.
"Glaumring?..."
Glaumring heard a voice come from a hut, a familiar voice long unheard, ages...Like waves on shore consistant...Thick Ravelian accent, oh how long had it been to hear that voice.
"Son?" The voice said again.
Glaumring turned and there huddled with sword and cloak, ancient beyond his years, his face a crag of scars and sun salted skin...
"Father?"
The shore of the Torrents breath river that flowed through Storms end was more busy than usual, supply lines of men in canoes and small boats had finally opened up this area. Wispy grass grew along the shore and a small dock was built not long ago. The town that once feared the waters and lived far inland had finally moved closer to the supply of fresh goods from both Summerdale, vegetables and Morek clothe and down far the Ravians sent things like tools ever so often.
Glaumring rested amidst the boxes and cargo his men had recently returned from Valldir, where hordes of bat beasts haunted the forests and called out for blood, a cat was sleeping near Glaumrings feet. Having relaxed the cat stretched and meowed in circles then was off in sleepy saunter, Glaumring watched the cat and then took off his bear cloak and walked across the dock towards an old man that had a small sail ship on blocks being sanded and worked on the dry land.Glaumring ran his hand along the boat and smelt the scented wood. he had commisioned this sail ship a few weeks before and it was near done, perhaps a few weeks more.
A breeze came down from mt.Black and sent a refreshing chill through the working men, Glaumring breathed it in and his eyes turned west, across the grey sky, passed the kingdom of Summerdale and high reeling in the sky beyond the kingdoms of the westlands there were the omnipresent red stars twirling in the heavens.
With his star stone tablet he measured the distance and it was far, far from Thulsoma, far from this wretched place... Thousands upon thousands of leagues his father had said to him the other day as they spoke in Torrents breath town. His father had shown him a map, rolled on goat skin and old, there was a route along the north sea, but none had done it that way in many many forgotten years.
It had been ages since a man had sailed to the very edge of the world, to the very resting place, the pillars of the Bloodstars, out there in the infinite waters...
Glaumring rolled the map and stuck the stone tablet back aboard the small ship... And rejoined his men resting on the side of the shore.
The sky was clear, it was overcast but the moon was full, at times the clouds would break and light from the moon would come through and stars could be seen in the inky background.
Glaumring took a moment of time and sat with his star disc, on the wall, a moment of reflection, he lined up the moon and then drew a line across space, he found a collection of stars, the hunter, the maiden... But the Bloodstars were not there.
He rose and double checked, where were the stars? He turned and looked in panic across the courtyard... Where were the stars? The stars fluctuated but never had he seen them in darkness... Was it a sign?
Storms end was already a hell hole, and that was before the monsters and then the undead had come. The barren cleared land of trenches and monster kites was awash with more terrible images that surpassed the manmade contraptions that were supposed to strike fear in whatever deigned to come here. The frail and dirty citizenry, the peasants who squabbled and dug their pathetic existence from the muck and mire around the bulwarks of Storms end had been decimated. For miles great wooden steaks had been carved by the beasts and impaled upon them in rank maggot fly infested evil were the smashed and broken bodies of countless hundreds of men and women, hung, tied and beaten and half eaten.
King Glaumring rode his slow horse down from the Storms keep and felt saddened, not so much for the loss of life but for the loss of their defenses and now the hatred the peasants felt for high Thulsomans, they threw rocks and called names from their hiding spots. They mocked the general and his men. The wretched lot of filthy peasants would not be easily converted now.
King Glaumring dismounted from his horse and walked towards a ramshackle defense that the peasants had dug out and made with logs, he climbed the front and peered over the side. Down there huddled with makeshift bows and clubs were a sorry looking assortment of men and children, the women had long been destroyed, carried away and none now were here.
"Peoples of Storms end, I assure you now that we are here and will not leave... For you the darkness has passed and the storm has ended... Allow us back, we promise that we will not let you down."
The peasants were like animals, docile and weary. They dropped their weaponry and in their faces tears could be seen , streaking the mud from their faces.
They were too weak to fight here... but elsewhere, Glaumring knew that the peasants would not give up so easily. Even now , the king lamented having to fight his own people...
King Glaumring had heard there was newly arrived noble in the realm. He sat heavily in his makeshift chair under his banners in the mud. Nothing covered him from the rain. He sat with his fist ground into the side of his head in perpetual deep thought. When he was told he barely understood, and then was startled. As if awakening from a bad dream, he shook off whatever he was thinking before and was all of a sudden very animated.
"Send in this noble to me... This man must be extremely brave or extraordinarily... Crazy for coming up here through this infested region".
Glaumring grabbed the nearest servant and shook him roughly, they had failed to tell him it was not just a mere noble, it was the very Ambassador of holy Corsanctum, here in this infested hellhole. He straightened himself and dug inside his pouch and pulled out his dented tin crown and placed it awkwardly on his head, he fastened his bear cloak around him, hollaring and cursing all the while he made his men gather whatever tarpaline to make a tent, he gave an order that wine appear even if by magic in that tent, he did not care where it came from as long as it was there... And a fire!
The Ambassador was sure to feel that Thulsomans were an uncivilized lot for none had even bathed in about 3 weeks nor shaven, their clothing was mud and bloodied. Compared to the civilized south, this lot would look like a mere chiefdom or plot for a rabble warlord.
Things were done hastily, everyone was unproffessional, no one knew the proper edicate, but after a while everything was as ordered and Glaumring stood and waited impatiently for word from General Randemicos to arrive with the Ambassador.
The bottle of wine upon the table, a dish of Bloodmoon fruit and some dried fish... a chunk of horseflesh. Now all there was was to wait.
The ten flap is opened by a rough looking worn out soldier, he greets you with his head bowed, and when he grasps your hand he slips a small red nut or fruit into your palm, he mutters some unknown langauge and then touches his forehead.
"You have been blessed by the stars and the fruit that grows from their light, you may now enter, please relax there is no need for formalities now, any outsider who braves the trip to Thulsoma is considered a brother, you may eat as you wish and there is wine, I am afraid that the food is not what you would eat in Corsanctum. Come sit with me and rest..."
The soldier then leaves the room. In the back of the tent by a small bronze cauldron, sits a man draped in bear fur, a small crown sits dull upon his brow. He stands and touches his forehead with the same red fruit that the soldier blessed you with, he then places it on the small table by his side.
" Come brother of the stars, come and sit you must be tired and I am eager for your tales of the outside world, sit and eat and warm yourself by the fire."
Glaumring poured some wine into a clay cup and laid it on the table in front of Ambassador Aelwolf. he then rummaged in his belt and pulled out a clay pipe and tobacco and stuffed it, lit it and then spoke.
"It is fantastic to finally meet you, I hope that you can forgive us for the arrangements, we have just gotten here and the place has been ransacked for several weeks. I am actually going back to Storms Keep and there I can better host you, we are finishing the last of our defenses and I would like for you to see them and meet my people. Storms Keep is much better suited for our talks and there I can have your room set up and it will look out onto the ocean"
Glaumring motions to the plates and the wine.
"But first drink and eat, sleep for a time... When we arrive in Storms keep we can better speak, I have many things to speak with you about. Your arrival was unexpected and has lightened all of our hearts and eased our minds, for so long we have felt isolated from the grand lands of the south and the intrigue and court life."
Glaumring puffed his pipe briefly and then leaned forward,
" Let us speak idle and of light topics for now, Storms end is so dreary and there is nothing but death all about, tell me what of the southlands? How does Corsanctum fare? How does the High Prophet do? Did you see anything interesting upon the journey northward?"
They arrived and for once in a while the weather was clear and the sun could be seen on the ocean. It was still very wet though and Storms Keep, though nothing like Storms end in its desolation was still a very ramshackle assortment. Of course one could see the fort had a new pallisade to finally protect from the monsters.
"Ambassador Aelwolf, welcome to Storms Keep... The free peoples of Thulsoma, the eaters of the bloodmoon fruit, if you will follow me , I will show you your room and then at your leisure we can talk."
Ambassador,
I know that my kingdom is a mere impoverished dust mote on this land and probably is barely mentioned elsewhere, but what has been said about us? I am fairly certain and have heard that Morek is basically silently betting that we will crumble, that a mere stronghold cannot maintain itself, that money alone was the indication of a leaders worth. I worry not for their words for already we have done the impossible, even getting this far and building our first protective wall was deemed impossible, I know different...For it is not the size of the kingdom, nor its coffers but the very makeup of its men that decides its future... For nothing can crush the strongest of souls...yet kingdoms will crumble for nothing at all.
Glaumring steadied his horse as Aelwolf mounted his own, already now the morning sunlight had shifted and the turned the common bleak grey and storm clouds began their march inland, the rolling of thunder across the sky far away but coming fast.
" Aye, Averoth... The leader Serpentis before he was deposed, I have a brother in a far land who served with him... Of course that is all I know of their relations for my brothers do not speak with me often... Not since I left Port Raviel... So long ago now it seems... I felt that I could have worked with Serpentis and that is why I signed a peace agreement, you see... I have been speaking with Summerdale, and Averoth under Serpentis... to create a United northern penninsula kingdom, all independent yet federated to defend this meager strip of land... Alas, Averoth is to be destroyed and rightly so, and Summerdale is paranoid and fears everything around it... So, I defend this strip of lland with my men and we do well enough...There is a benefit to being forgotten by the world outside... We are of no threat, nor strategic value."
They kicked their horses and slowly their horses plodded forward, riding side by side, when they reached the edge of Storms Keep and the great manmade wind kite beasts of Storms end could be seen and the manmade wind howlers heard a mournful sound of a horn could be heard in long drones across the land coming from Storms keep.
"They play that horn for you Aelwolf, on the very top of Storms keep...The horn of the sun, it cries only when it rains and when men leave the keep to other lands... I hope that you may hear it another day for it calls you to return..."
Glaumring was silent as the horn called out in long deep drones, the blighted grey land with flecks of rain and billous clouds blanketed overhead, the damp land of green stretched back towards the Storms end.
The Patrol froze in their tracks, on the outside of the walls wounded and pulling itself across the ground,streaking blood on the grass... Was a monster, still alive.
The troops drew their bows and surrounded the pathetic beast, they had rarely seen dead monsters even after a fight since so many of the bodies were taken back after an attack, it was even rarer to find a live one...
The beast was batlike, leathery and mottled with black spots, its face was vaguely human, rat and Daimon , its eyes yellow , darting about in fear. It recoiled and then wound itself in its wings fetal like on the ground and screamed. It was screaming in words first and then in whatever bastard tongue it did speak amongst its brethern, but all who stood around it knew what it had said.
Hulutha ahath..grod Bloodstars! Ackthrooroth, isolate...deemed, akthruthruh, ALTHRUTHA HIGH PROPHET AKLTH HYTHOTHAFYN!!!
One of the soldiers kicked it and wound a cord around its arms and tied it, they deemed to bring it before the King and find out what they should do to this speaking beast, King Glaumring listened to their tale and as Ambassador Aelwolf mounted his horse he stopped him.
Aelwolf! Stop! before you go... Take this beast with you in cage... It will make a wonderful gift for those in Corsanctum to study... Perhaps it can teach them something about humanity? I have no need for such a beast, for here in the lands of Storms we have plenty...Be known that this is the first monster to be captured anywhere across this land. I wonder what tales it could tell?
And with that the beast was loaded in cage upon a donkey and tied to Ambassador Aelwolfs steed, and there they were led out of the small fortification and into the rising sun.
King Glaumring watched as Aelwolf faded away, and he was saddened by the day... Once again, they would face the day alone...
Torrential rain for days drowned the land in mud and mire, with heavy clouds here in Torrents breath, with raging river all around the sound of boulders being pounded by the breath of the black water, far off on the horizon shrouded by cloud and dark was Mt.Black Nostrond, forever hidden from view on this side of the penninsula.
King Glaumring was wet as always, with his great bear cloak pulled close around him, the sole village, a collection of ramshackle huts and brothels, vapid eyed malnourished children, orphans and men who had long abandoned the fall of Springdale, here huddled in this border refugee like enclave. Bear fights and dogs barked mad through cages lined on the side of the muddy walk. The Huts were smoke filled, where butter was churned into foul tea and liquor was distilled from the waters of the nearby river. Mean eyed men played bones on the bodies of recently dead, they won boots and gold teeth from the corpses.
Glaumrings eyes surveyed the town and none gave him heed, he was merely another warlord, a man with sword who would would pass by and never to return in their minds. Torrents breath and its minions were fiercely independent. They had never been subjegated. Glaumring moved to the center of the town with purpose his men trailed behind, Storm General Randemicos had surrounded the village and was already arresting smugglers and shifty peasants, nothing came or went without notice, yet none within the village stirred, this had happened before and they had beaten back the takeover force... They would like last time act docile and then when the guard was down murder this collection of men called Thulsomans.
"I hereby declare this village and surrounding land subject to the wills and laws of King Glaumring the Thulsoman ruler of the Kingdom of Bloodmoon..." General Randemicos could be heard yelling through the rain.
"Glaumring?..."
Glaumring heard a voice come from a hut, a familiar voice long unheard, ages...Like waves on shore consistant...Thick Ravelian accent, oh how long had it been to hear that voice.
"Son?" The voice said again.
Glaumring turned and there huddled with sword and cloak, ancient beyond his years, his face a crag of scars and sun salted skin...
"Father?"
The shore of the Torrents breath river that flowed through Storms end was more busy than usual, supply lines of men in canoes and small boats had finally opened up this area. Wispy grass grew along the shore and a small dock was built not long ago. The town that once feared the waters and lived far inland had finally moved closer to the supply of fresh goods from both Summerdale, vegetables and Morek clothe and down far the Ravians sent things like tools ever so often.
Glaumring rested amidst the boxes and cargo his men had recently returned from Valldir, where hordes of bat beasts haunted the forests and called out for blood, a cat was sleeping near Glaumrings feet. Having relaxed the cat stretched and meowed in circles then was off in sleepy saunter, Glaumring watched the cat and then took off his bear cloak and walked across the dock towards an old man that had a small sail ship on blocks being sanded and worked on the dry land.Glaumring ran his hand along the boat and smelt the scented wood. he had commisioned this sail ship a few weeks before and it was near done, perhaps a few weeks more.
A breeze came down from mt.Black and sent a refreshing chill through the working men, Glaumring breathed it in and his eyes turned west, across the grey sky, passed the kingdom of Summerdale and high reeling in the sky beyond the kingdoms of the westlands there were the omnipresent red stars twirling in the heavens.
With his star stone tablet he measured the distance and it was far, far from Thulsoma, far from this wretched place... Thousands upon thousands of leagues his father had said to him the other day as they spoke in Torrents breath town. His father had shown him a map, rolled on goat skin and old, there was a route along the north sea, but none had done it that way in many many forgotten years.
It had been ages since a man had sailed to the very edge of the world, to the very resting place, the pillars of the Bloodstars, out there in the infinite waters...
Glaumring rolled the map and stuck the stone tablet back aboard the small ship... And rejoined his men resting on the side of the shore.
2046
Roleplaying / Re: History of the founding of Thulsoma.
« on: March 24, 2011, 02:02:55 PM »
A few days before...
The ocean waves calmed for a short while and Glaumring went down under the reeling stars and black sky to the shore of the Storms keep it was nearly the morning as he made his way down the ocean bank path, reaching the pebble beach there he stood and waited next to his small fishing boat, for now the moon was gone and there on the horizon the aqua-bands of clouds and winter sun rays began their awakening as they do every day. The sun different here than his far homeland. The sky was so clear today. Usually dark and forboding in winter.
One of his men came down the shore and was holding a small bird, Glaumring stripped off his clothing and it was dreadfully cold, he layed his magical breastplate on the beach and put his cloak ontop of it. All he wore now was a loincloth. He shivered and dipped his toes into the water.
"Sire, you desire ta' go out into this hellish frost and do what upon here waves?" the man holding the small bird said as he approached Glaumring.
Glaumrings teeth chattered, and he slipped on a stone and wobbled as he reached the seashore, placing his foot into the water.
"It's not like where I was born, the water here is terribly cold..." He looked about and stood, his ankles in the water.
And he thought to himself for a moment and then absently said to no one " Its very cold here.."
"Ye, plan on fishing sire?"
"Aye, this is the time of year down south for flying fish... But, I see none are here, just grey water..."
"The Auspicious star is full milord, methinks if ye cast a net out you may get something..."
"Haw..." Glaumring laughed and looked around and jokingly looked suspicious "I seem to be rather lucky at only catching priests in these frigid north lands."
"Aye milord, be careful about talking bout' the stars, thar may be some fish out there who thinks he can catch a man" The old man on the beach laughed at his own joke.
Glaumring smiled, and dove into the water, freezing ice water, shocking him, rejuvenating him and cleaning him to the very marrow.
An hour or so later
Upon returning to shore with a fish, Glaumring took out his knife... skinned the fish... Gutted it and then ate it raw.
When will you arrive in Corsanctum?I have a question for the High Prophet if you happen upon him but do not say anything to any other. I desire the skills , the technology to construct a thing called a telescope, maybe you have heard of this , it may be known to the high prophet... Storms keep is the farthest north Kingdom in the land and when the storms have subsided the sky is very very clear and because much our view is northern Ocean we in Storms keep are better situated at times to study the stars than any other. Procure for me a telescope. And I shall send to The Holy Prophet a package of 'Bloodmoon' for him to study.
The letter arrived as if pulled by the very wind and was left in Glaumrings hand, he studied it for a moment, and his heart sank, it was from Corsanctum...
he peeled the seal and read through the letter, upon finishing it he slowly placed it in his cloak. His men were gathered around for they were on patrol in Storms end , they saw Glaumrings face.
"I have been found not guilty...." He said to everyone around him.
His men shouted and cheered, everyone was filled with relief and whatever dark clouds that roiled around them were now gone. Fittingly , as if planned by fate, standing in a place called Storms end , truly the stars guided every thing for this was no coincidence...Nothing was coincidence, it was all ordained. Everything that had happened was like clockwork like the very fluctuation of the heavens.
"When we return to Storms keep there will be a river of wine flowing down the torrents breath all the way to Holy Corsanctum! And we shall mark this day as a festival forevermore... Festival of the Storms end"
And with that his men were back at work, toil of building barricades and packing sand. Dreams of bloodmoon and nubile young maidens dancing in their heads.
Glaumring procured his horse, the thin and sickly animal trotted out and snorted. Glaumring patted its nose and brushed it a bit. The horses had been hungry since the retreat to Storms Keep, come to think of it the entire fortress looked thin and sickly. Even Randemicos who usually was fit was looking grey in the face and a bit gaunt. The entire fortress was starving. Rations had been halved and then again and then doled out on a wooden spoon.
Hell, how long had it been since anyone had actually slept? Ages, Glaumring remembered a soft bed in Muspelheim that is probably being slept in by a Morekian. His bed had been wherever he laid his head lately.
Randemicos brought his horse around, he was dressed in regalia , sword at side and holding a banner. Off they went to Storms end , rumor was that the monsters had finally left. The monsters were different than most monsters it seemed, it seemed they were only interested in drinking and chasing maidens. After all of that was gone they headed back in a shamble to their base in Valldir dragging their spoils and loot behind them.
Leaving Storms Keep the plain ahead was like a dream or nightmare, the spinning howling wind kites had probably scared off the monsters, their eery howls echoed across the open expanse, the myriad of wooden sharpened pit traps and brick walls with scarecrows on them also added to the effect. So far it seemed to work against the monsters.
There was a bit of a ride ahead, the two men rode slowly and were lulled by the gait of the horses. The sun was setting and red bands with orange clouds sat silently dreamlike on the edge of the world.
King Glaumring was dug in on the frontlines of Storms End with a raging horde of batfaced and leathery skinned howling beasts piling down on their rickety defenses from all sides. His men were loosing arrows and hacking with their short swords. Black sky tormented clouds and driving wind and rain did cloak all about with a paranoid aura of desperation and depression. Now the beasts were upon them and the sick slicing and hacking sounds raced through the trench line, sucking mud and blood mixed with the monsters howling.
Driving rain made the combat a quagmire, the trench now had been destroyed with streams of water, and then men were hacking away as if in slow motion or near drowning in the mire.
All the while Glaumring was with bow and above on a mud made tower rabid with battle lust and bezerk firing down and cursing in his tongue. None, no monster would make its way or break the line for behind them was the impenetrable Storms keep and even if the monsters made it there they would be dead and obliterated on the marksmanship of its daring defenders.
"Hold the line you dogs! For now if like water torrent of rivers breath these monsters make their way to our beloved tower, they will have broken us and men from Morek to Luries will laugh and say over meads that 'Somans did fold to monster and not to the will mankind!" And with that Glaumring notched his bow and let fly a black arrow , one after another and now the monsters had broken through the General Randemicos line and Sahkmen fighting with scimitar swords in dark glinting and sound of death all to mark their place on the battlefield with brief flashes of lightening like strobe to show where man was an beast did fall.
And soon when death was assured the monsterous beasts heard their trumpet of retreat and turned as if with one mind away from the battlefield. Glaumring grabbed up his sword and drove it deep into the ground with exhaustion or now weeks had passed without respite, none had come to relieve these fighters, three nobles did stand against the entire world it seemed.
And with that he he called a person who could write and he kneeled holdin' his sword in hand and said.
I, King Glaumring Apasurain, of my own free will and accord, most solemnly and sincerely swear that I shall from this day forth bind myself to the safekeeping of the one, true Church of Sanguis Astroism. My sword shall be as the Maddening Star, driven by my conviction and strength in defense of the Temple. My shield shall be as the Auspicious Star, borne by my constancy and conscience in protection of the Priesthood. My helm shall be as the Austere Star, guided by my fidelity and judgement in preserving the Faith. To survive these hard times to free the 'soman people , to eat the bloodmoon fruit and find knowledge and fight to the ends of this earth for the stars, All this I promise, in the name of the most Holy Bloodstars.
And with that he gave word for this oath to be delivered to the very depths of Corsanctum and Sanguis Astroism Believers.
King Glaumring saw something glinting moving down on the plain, now sun had cracked the sky in parts and beams of light drifted over the hilllands of far Torrents breath mountain range.
"What is that there yonder light?" Glaumring pointed, he wished he has gotten the telescopes he had ordered , but the priest that was sent to Corsanctum defected, so the telescopes never came. Relying on his own eyes he strained to see that it was a man picking and uneasily making his way across the wasteland.
"Go down and there bring up this fool, wandering down there." Glaumring ordered a few of him men to leave the trench and head down towards the man. Who could it be Glaumring thought to himself.
In time the man was delivered to the mud battlement and there quite out of place dressed in finery long not seen in these northlands, with page boy hair and young unscarred features was a simple delivery boy, in his hands a bottle of wine.
The howling and screeching had not faded in weeks, the walls now were being assailed from all sides by the leathery bat like manthings. Refugees could be seen being slaughtered as they desperately ran towards Storms Keep, but were too slow to make it across that deadly plain.
King Glaumring was on the wall and with his men with dwindling arrows and swords that have not been cleaned of muck or blood in what seemed ages, valiantly they fought back the hordes.
Wind whipped the bloodmoon banner in the dark clouded sky at the back of Glaumring on the top of the Storm tower. And Glaumring glanced it rippling and when the wind did still, it lightly drifted down and limply in depression sat and did not move.
" Blast this damned beasts! For them to think that here they may come!" Yelled out the Captain Sigmund as he began to hurl stones down on the oncoming horde. Beating them back, and then...
There was a lull and none could be heard or seen, and for a moment all was quiet...
Glaumring and men braced themselves against the walls and breathing heavily and with eyes like a deers darting about , they strained their ears to listen.
Then there it was a high pitched wailing and there below they saw no monsters but heard the sounds of trumpets. The high sound of paranoia, and then the low chest thudding slow barking of a heavy tin trumpet. His men were in terror and everyone was there and begged to be run off and hidden. Glaumring stayed them and here with hand on each of their shoulders and with his eyes looking clearly to them he said,
Aye, lo' there ye hear the sound of our doom, aye, I shall not hold this back and cover it with sweet honey nor assauge your fears with words like a fine maiden, Nay, for now down on the plain is host of hell. Like Virovene in ages gone by with Daimons hordes in times forgotten , overrun and its name forgotten , like those times Thulsoma now stands on the precipice and lo' be known that none came to stand with us , and none of the fellow brethern could be bothered for Thulsoma was and always will be the bastard child of this cursed eastern land for not even the Bloodstars will shine over us here, they must rest in the west far from this cesspool. Aye Thulsomans for though it is possible that here we will all die and everyone of us broken and bones split on the wheel , I will assure you that we will be fighters forged forever because of here we stand.
Now stand with me now, rise Thulsomans! Rise now for we do not despise death nor fear its arrival, for a Thulsoman's only fear is the passage of time on nights of drinking! Raise your swords and mighty bows high and with all that wonder and moon over head , dip your blades deep into its white face and bring it crashing down into the face of the earth! FIGHT! FIGHT! Swing your sword as if possesed by the very heart of madness!
And there Glaumring climbed high onto the fortress wall, his sword held high above his head, swinging he cut the air and with that he cast his eyes downwards the long fall and there saw a massive seething horde of beasts as if maggots in a bowl slithering down on the plain and devouring the very wood on the door of the keep.
He cast himself over the side of the wall and fell for sometime and then was gone enveloped by the mass of monsters, gone from sight...
From the mass of beasts King Glaumring could be seen fleetingly as he hacked with all his might. Thick pools of gore and blood did make like black rain upon everything, the ground was a slick slime of entrails and dead monsters. He fought as if mad, his eyes rolling , choking on his own tongue, utterly bezerk and out of control a dervish of doom. And soon when his sword was broken to pieces and all that was left was a shard with hilt and his armor bashed and torn, his body covered in blood, The rest of King Glaumrings men rushed forward from the city gates. General Randemicos lead the charge with Sahkmen Moonseek and Lady Jasmine, their men a haggard wounded scraggle of what could pass for soldiers but they fought with all that they had and just as all was thick battle and terror all about...The monsters were completely surrounding them on all sides... A banner could be seen...
From the east a banner and new troops crashed through catching the monsters by surprise! Riding a fresh white horse and flailing his sword a young looking man rode full force into the face of doom. King Glaumring raised his sword and let out a rallying whoop, yell and was absorbed like a rock in a wave as his men rushed to meet this new group of soldiers.
"Who are you?" Yelled Glaumring above the melee.
"Knight Davior Runevan, I have heard of your plight and came as fast as I could from my estate in Storms end" he said,
Glaumring was filled with hope, he was actually happy for the first time in what seemed many many dreary weeks... They would be able to fight on... They would have one more day to survive... The Bloodstars had listened to their prayers.
The ocean waves calmed for a short while and Glaumring went down under the reeling stars and black sky to the shore of the Storms keep it was nearly the morning as he made his way down the ocean bank path, reaching the pebble beach there he stood and waited next to his small fishing boat, for now the moon was gone and there on the horizon the aqua-bands of clouds and winter sun rays began their awakening as they do every day. The sun different here than his far homeland. The sky was so clear today. Usually dark and forboding in winter.
One of his men came down the shore and was holding a small bird, Glaumring stripped off his clothing and it was dreadfully cold, he layed his magical breastplate on the beach and put his cloak ontop of it. All he wore now was a loincloth. He shivered and dipped his toes into the water.
"Sire, you desire ta' go out into this hellish frost and do what upon here waves?" the man holding the small bird said as he approached Glaumring.
Glaumrings teeth chattered, and he slipped on a stone and wobbled as he reached the seashore, placing his foot into the water.
"It's not like where I was born, the water here is terribly cold..." He looked about and stood, his ankles in the water.
And he thought to himself for a moment and then absently said to no one " Its very cold here.."
"Ye, plan on fishing sire?"
"Aye, this is the time of year down south for flying fish... But, I see none are here, just grey water..."
"The Auspicious star is full milord, methinks if ye cast a net out you may get something..."
"Haw..." Glaumring laughed and looked around and jokingly looked suspicious "I seem to be rather lucky at only catching priests in these frigid north lands."
"Aye milord, be careful about talking bout' the stars, thar may be some fish out there who thinks he can catch a man" The old man on the beach laughed at his own joke.
Glaumring smiled, and dove into the water, freezing ice water, shocking him, rejuvenating him and cleaning him to the very marrow.
An hour or so later
Upon returning to shore with a fish, Glaumring took out his knife... skinned the fish... Gutted it and then ate it raw.
When will you arrive in Corsanctum?I have a question for the High Prophet if you happen upon him but do not say anything to any other. I desire the skills , the technology to construct a thing called a telescope, maybe you have heard of this , it may be known to the high prophet... Storms keep is the farthest north Kingdom in the land and when the storms have subsided the sky is very very clear and because much our view is northern Ocean we in Storms keep are better situated at times to study the stars than any other. Procure for me a telescope. And I shall send to The Holy Prophet a package of 'Bloodmoon' for him to study.
The letter arrived as if pulled by the very wind and was left in Glaumrings hand, he studied it for a moment, and his heart sank, it was from Corsanctum...
he peeled the seal and read through the letter, upon finishing it he slowly placed it in his cloak. His men were gathered around for they were on patrol in Storms end , they saw Glaumrings face.
"I have been found not guilty...." He said to everyone around him.
His men shouted and cheered, everyone was filled with relief and whatever dark clouds that roiled around them were now gone. Fittingly , as if planned by fate, standing in a place called Storms end , truly the stars guided every thing for this was no coincidence...Nothing was coincidence, it was all ordained. Everything that had happened was like clockwork like the very fluctuation of the heavens.
"When we return to Storms keep there will be a river of wine flowing down the torrents breath all the way to Holy Corsanctum! And we shall mark this day as a festival forevermore... Festival of the Storms end"
And with that his men were back at work, toil of building barricades and packing sand. Dreams of bloodmoon and nubile young maidens dancing in their heads.
Glaumring procured his horse, the thin and sickly animal trotted out and snorted. Glaumring patted its nose and brushed it a bit. The horses had been hungry since the retreat to Storms Keep, come to think of it the entire fortress looked thin and sickly. Even Randemicos who usually was fit was looking grey in the face and a bit gaunt. The entire fortress was starving. Rations had been halved and then again and then doled out on a wooden spoon.
Hell, how long had it been since anyone had actually slept? Ages, Glaumring remembered a soft bed in Muspelheim that is probably being slept in by a Morekian. His bed had been wherever he laid his head lately.
Randemicos brought his horse around, he was dressed in regalia , sword at side and holding a banner. Off they went to Storms end , rumor was that the monsters had finally left. The monsters were different than most monsters it seemed, it seemed they were only interested in drinking and chasing maidens. After all of that was gone they headed back in a shamble to their base in Valldir dragging their spoils and loot behind them.
Leaving Storms Keep the plain ahead was like a dream or nightmare, the spinning howling wind kites had probably scared off the monsters, their eery howls echoed across the open expanse, the myriad of wooden sharpened pit traps and brick walls with scarecrows on them also added to the effect. So far it seemed to work against the monsters.
There was a bit of a ride ahead, the two men rode slowly and were lulled by the gait of the horses. The sun was setting and red bands with orange clouds sat silently dreamlike on the edge of the world.
King Glaumring was dug in on the frontlines of Storms End with a raging horde of batfaced and leathery skinned howling beasts piling down on their rickety defenses from all sides. His men were loosing arrows and hacking with their short swords. Black sky tormented clouds and driving wind and rain did cloak all about with a paranoid aura of desperation and depression. Now the beasts were upon them and the sick slicing and hacking sounds raced through the trench line, sucking mud and blood mixed with the monsters howling.
Driving rain made the combat a quagmire, the trench now had been destroyed with streams of water, and then men were hacking away as if in slow motion or near drowning in the mire.
All the while Glaumring was with bow and above on a mud made tower rabid with battle lust and bezerk firing down and cursing in his tongue. None, no monster would make its way or break the line for behind them was the impenetrable Storms keep and even if the monsters made it there they would be dead and obliterated on the marksmanship of its daring defenders.
"Hold the line you dogs! For now if like water torrent of rivers breath these monsters make their way to our beloved tower, they will have broken us and men from Morek to Luries will laugh and say over meads that 'Somans did fold to monster and not to the will mankind!" And with that Glaumring notched his bow and let fly a black arrow , one after another and now the monsters had broken through the General Randemicos line and Sahkmen fighting with scimitar swords in dark glinting and sound of death all to mark their place on the battlefield with brief flashes of lightening like strobe to show where man was an beast did fall.
And soon when death was assured the monsterous beasts heard their trumpet of retreat and turned as if with one mind away from the battlefield. Glaumring grabbed up his sword and drove it deep into the ground with exhaustion or now weeks had passed without respite, none had come to relieve these fighters, three nobles did stand against the entire world it seemed.
And with that he he called a person who could write and he kneeled holdin' his sword in hand and said.
I, King Glaumring Apasurain, of my own free will and accord, most solemnly and sincerely swear that I shall from this day forth bind myself to the safekeeping of the one, true Church of Sanguis Astroism. My sword shall be as the Maddening Star, driven by my conviction and strength in defense of the Temple. My shield shall be as the Auspicious Star, borne by my constancy and conscience in protection of the Priesthood. My helm shall be as the Austere Star, guided by my fidelity and judgement in preserving the Faith. To survive these hard times to free the 'soman people , to eat the bloodmoon fruit and find knowledge and fight to the ends of this earth for the stars, All this I promise, in the name of the most Holy Bloodstars.
And with that he gave word for this oath to be delivered to the very depths of Corsanctum and Sanguis Astroism Believers.
King Glaumring saw something glinting moving down on the plain, now sun had cracked the sky in parts and beams of light drifted over the hilllands of far Torrents breath mountain range.
"What is that there yonder light?" Glaumring pointed, he wished he has gotten the telescopes he had ordered , but the priest that was sent to Corsanctum defected, so the telescopes never came. Relying on his own eyes he strained to see that it was a man picking and uneasily making his way across the wasteland.
"Go down and there bring up this fool, wandering down there." Glaumring ordered a few of him men to leave the trench and head down towards the man. Who could it be Glaumring thought to himself.
In time the man was delivered to the mud battlement and there quite out of place dressed in finery long not seen in these northlands, with page boy hair and young unscarred features was a simple delivery boy, in his hands a bottle of wine.
The howling and screeching had not faded in weeks, the walls now were being assailed from all sides by the leathery bat like manthings. Refugees could be seen being slaughtered as they desperately ran towards Storms Keep, but were too slow to make it across that deadly plain.
King Glaumring was on the wall and with his men with dwindling arrows and swords that have not been cleaned of muck or blood in what seemed ages, valiantly they fought back the hordes.
Wind whipped the bloodmoon banner in the dark clouded sky at the back of Glaumring on the top of the Storm tower. And Glaumring glanced it rippling and when the wind did still, it lightly drifted down and limply in depression sat and did not move.
" Blast this damned beasts! For them to think that here they may come!" Yelled out the Captain Sigmund as he began to hurl stones down on the oncoming horde. Beating them back, and then...
There was a lull and none could be heard or seen, and for a moment all was quiet...
Glaumring and men braced themselves against the walls and breathing heavily and with eyes like a deers darting about , they strained their ears to listen.
Then there it was a high pitched wailing and there below they saw no monsters but heard the sounds of trumpets. The high sound of paranoia, and then the low chest thudding slow barking of a heavy tin trumpet. His men were in terror and everyone was there and begged to be run off and hidden. Glaumring stayed them and here with hand on each of their shoulders and with his eyes looking clearly to them he said,
Aye, lo' there ye hear the sound of our doom, aye, I shall not hold this back and cover it with sweet honey nor assauge your fears with words like a fine maiden, Nay, for now down on the plain is host of hell. Like Virovene in ages gone by with Daimons hordes in times forgotten , overrun and its name forgotten , like those times Thulsoma now stands on the precipice and lo' be known that none came to stand with us , and none of the fellow brethern could be bothered for Thulsoma was and always will be the bastard child of this cursed eastern land for not even the Bloodstars will shine over us here, they must rest in the west far from this cesspool. Aye Thulsomans for though it is possible that here we will all die and everyone of us broken and bones split on the wheel , I will assure you that we will be fighters forged forever because of here we stand.
Now stand with me now, rise Thulsomans! Rise now for we do not despise death nor fear its arrival, for a Thulsoman's only fear is the passage of time on nights of drinking! Raise your swords and mighty bows high and with all that wonder and moon over head , dip your blades deep into its white face and bring it crashing down into the face of the earth! FIGHT! FIGHT! Swing your sword as if possesed by the very heart of madness!
And there Glaumring climbed high onto the fortress wall, his sword held high above his head, swinging he cut the air and with that he cast his eyes downwards the long fall and there saw a massive seething horde of beasts as if maggots in a bowl slithering down on the plain and devouring the very wood on the door of the keep.
He cast himself over the side of the wall and fell for sometime and then was gone enveloped by the mass of monsters, gone from sight...
From the mass of beasts King Glaumring could be seen fleetingly as he hacked with all his might. Thick pools of gore and blood did make like black rain upon everything, the ground was a slick slime of entrails and dead monsters. He fought as if mad, his eyes rolling , choking on his own tongue, utterly bezerk and out of control a dervish of doom. And soon when his sword was broken to pieces and all that was left was a shard with hilt and his armor bashed and torn, his body covered in blood, The rest of King Glaumrings men rushed forward from the city gates. General Randemicos lead the charge with Sahkmen Moonseek and Lady Jasmine, their men a haggard wounded scraggle of what could pass for soldiers but they fought with all that they had and just as all was thick battle and terror all about...The monsters were completely surrounding them on all sides... A banner could be seen...
From the east a banner and new troops crashed through catching the monsters by surprise! Riding a fresh white horse and flailing his sword a young looking man rode full force into the face of doom. King Glaumring raised his sword and let out a rallying whoop, yell and was absorbed like a rock in a wave as his men rushed to meet this new group of soldiers.
"Who are you?" Yelled Glaumring above the melee.
"Knight Davior Runevan, I have heard of your plight and came as fast as I could from my estate in Storms end" he said,
Glaumring was filled with hope, he was actually happy for the first time in what seemed many many dreary weeks... They would be able to fight on... They would have one more day to survive... The Bloodstars had listened to their prayers.
2047
Roleplaying / Re: History of the founding of Thulsoma.
« on: March 24, 2011, 02:01:34 PM »
Glaumring called Randemicos and Sygrum down from their tower perch.
He stood in the center of the court yard of the Storm's keep fortress.
"See here? where we stand... Mark this spot, call the stone carver to come and carve our feet prints into the stone for eternity it will rest here... But first I ask, will ye serve me as my brothers here in the Storm's keep, to promise to defend here until the very waves take our bodies back to Elysium... Will you two brave souls take me as your King? To fight with me against whatever assails these walls? To ride out into the world beyond and take new lands? To build a kingdom that stands for all time..."
Glaumring put his hand into the middle of the men and out stretched it upon his hand was the star disc from Port Raviel,He held it and motioned for each man to place their hand upon the disc.
"Once that is done I will need your help with something else, this is if you accept." Glaumring smiled,
Glaumring sat alone in his chamber and from where he sat facing away from the land he watched the roiling of the waves on the sea far below his stone keep home. The ocean was an allegory of the times, the very name of his home a reflection of what he had been going through these few weeks.
Much had been accomplished, he had what appeared to be good nobles that worked with him. He appreciated their bravery and their cunning. But, he felt the isolation, the Storms keep must have been cursed, for millenia it must have sat here forgotten its place in history shrouded in mystery.
Glaumring rose and paced the room and then found what he was looking for, there on his simple wooden table was a leather pouch and when he reached inside was filled with small plum sized lumps of brown dried nuts, the bloodmoon nuts from the islands of the far south from the trees his father cultivated and taught him about were there and waiting for him. He placed one in his hand and then looking at it placed it in his mouth and began to chew...
There was a mirror in front of him and it floated reflecting the room in its surface but he was not there, there was now sunlight bathing the room in soft light where once wind and rain did batter its way around the tower, silent shifting tree's and the calling of birds. The mirror now had Glaumring in it and with each breath he would fade from its visage and then with each inhale appear, at first looking ragged, tired and worn and then with each pulse of his heart slowly returning to his youth...
"Glaumring?" there was a voice and softly floated like a feather out of the mirror.
"Glaumring do you hear me?" it once again whispered out of the mirror and Glaumring blinked , snow was gathered on his eye lashes and fell now throughout the room.
"Glaumring you have entered the cage, you have imprisoned yourself" the voice faded and Glaumring was alone.
Gathering the nuts into the pouch he went down to the courtyard to wait for General Randemicos to return from the outside world.
He stood in the center of the court yard of the Storm's keep fortress.
"See here? where we stand... Mark this spot, call the stone carver to come and carve our feet prints into the stone for eternity it will rest here... But first I ask, will ye serve me as my brothers here in the Storm's keep, to promise to defend here until the very waves take our bodies back to Elysium... Will you two brave souls take me as your King? To fight with me against whatever assails these walls? To ride out into the world beyond and take new lands? To build a kingdom that stands for all time..."
Glaumring put his hand into the middle of the men and out stretched it upon his hand was the star disc from Port Raviel,He held it and motioned for each man to place their hand upon the disc.
"Once that is done I will need your help with something else, this is if you accept." Glaumring smiled,
Glaumring sat alone in his chamber and from where he sat facing away from the land he watched the roiling of the waves on the sea far below his stone keep home. The ocean was an allegory of the times, the very name of his home a reflection of what he had been going through these few weeks.
Much had been accomplished, he had what appeared to be good nobles that worked with him. He appreciated their bravery and their cunning. But, he felt the isolation, the Storms keep must have been cursed, for millenia it must have sat here forgotten its place in history shrouded in mystery.
Glaumring rose and paced the room and then found what he was looking for, there on his simple wooden table was a leather pouch and when he reached inside was filled with small plum sized lumps of brown dried nuts, the bloodmoon nuts from the islands of the far south from the trees his father cultivated and taught him about were there and waiting for him. He placed one in his hand and then looking at it placed it in his mouth and began to chew...
There was a mirror in front of him and it floated reflecting the room in its surface but he was not there, there was now sunlight bathing the room in soft light where once wind and rain did batter its way around the tower, silent shifting tree's and the calling of birds. The mirror now had Glaumring in it and with each breath he would fade from its visage and then with each inhale appear, at first looking ragged, tired and worn and then with each pulse of his heart slowly returning to his youth...
"Glaumring?" there was a voice and softly floated like a feather out of the mirror.
"Glaumring do you hear me?" it once again whispered out of the mirror and Glaumring blinked , snow was gathered on his eye lashes and fell now throughout the room.
"Glaumring you have entered the cage, you have imprisoned yourself" the voice faded and Glaumring was alone.
Gathering the nuts into the pouch he went down to the courtyard to wait for General Randemicos to return from the outside world.
2048
Roleplaying / Re: History of the founding of Thulsoma.
« on: March 24, 2011, 02:00:41 PM »
Glaumring tore into the flesh of the beast laying in front of him with his teeth, slicing tendons with his dagger, tearing the charred meat from the leg, steam and smoke rose from the haunch , fresh roasted monster meat. Randemicos had been hunting and returned with food. the first food seen in days, or was it weeks? Glaumring could no longer remember...
On his lap lay a pile of musty letters, each letter was gold sealed and with red Corsanctum emblem stamped upon their face, an entire pile of letters. Scrawled upon was the bloodstars, dusted with gold, ruby dust... Forgotten things from far away lands...
Glaumring turned to Randemicos, he smiled a weary smile and said.
" They in far civilization have made an accusation against myself, that 'I' am a heretic...I a soldier of the faith out here on the fringes of their empire where none have trod before, a heretic!"
Glaumring suppressed his laugh, it merely sputtered out and wheezed, he tossed the letter into a pile.
"Can they not see I have greater problems than to worry about whether men who sit in silk and attack books with pen are concerned about what warriors do? If they truly cared they would send one of their priests out here , to muddy his feet and come out here and see , to see what we have done in the name of the bloodstars!"
They were huddled in a dank room, and beyond the walls slices of sunlight came through cracks in the brickwork. Glaumring was filthy, his hair was a scraggled mess, blood and mud caked his face, his beard was bushy and out of control. Aye , but this is the price one paid for long journies into the northern mountain lands and forgotten forests of northern Dwilight.
Glaumring rose and crawled through a broken hole in the brick wall and entered a court yard that was disgustingly packed with soldiers, it was a rank steaming pile of dung and sweat, packed into a small place behind a wall were over a hundred men, wounded, dying, sleeping and waiting guards milled about in the early morning light.
Glaumring surveyed his men and wandered amongst them, they were in rough shape and for so long had been out and survived so much, he comforted the dying, he drank with his captain and sat and watched the horizon with his sentries.
There far out on plane, with sun drifting through the clouds, breaking with gold rays that lightly touched the green rolling grass , hills languished and made their way around where on each side the aqua blue northern ocean encompassed all for miles on each side in its loving embrace. And Glaumring was still and he did not move, and like a dust covered statue he watched as ocean going birds did dip across his vision, calling out and skipping around the towers of the keep they all now found as their home. Out side was thorns and miles of mud, hidden in there was the glowing stank animals of the underworld. But for now they were all safe... Safe from the monsters that bayed hungry for blood in the outside world.
Glaumring held his head and muttered to himself, his head has been so busy lately, there was so much to do and everything now weighted down on him at one time. The stars were testing him...
Night came and Glaumring called his men to the walls, when gathered he took from his cloak the clay disc made for him long ago in Port Raviel, and when all was silent, his men with faces upturned, no fire lit, no light for ages, the sky was an ocean of stars.Glaumring looked at each of their faces , all his loyal soldiers, all gathered here in far away for he nightly tales of the sky.
He placed the disc in his hand and made measurements with it, and spoke while he was doing it, drinking from a wine skin and answering questions his curious men did give, first his finger pointed to a symbol on the clay disc and then upwards to the moon, the bulbous orb did float where the symbol had said it was.
His finger traced a line .. There the star of the milk maiden... There the star of the fisherman... There the planet of fire...
The disc told of time, it gave dates and it told stories, and for each mark Glaumring could go back and tell the tale of a battle of a journey , of a life and of a death. And all sat and listened in the stillness, pipes of tobacco wafted smoke around and the wine skins passed around.
Glaumring traced a line on the clay disc, and he turned to his men, they could see his eyes and his face through the beard, his finger pointed to a place on the disc and Glaumring turned and pointed to the skies, far to the west... His men bowed their heads, they did not speak and for a moment they stopped drinking wine and murmuring... Glaumring stood there with his fingers pointing at the three stars far away in the west...
"They stood for ages...
They turned to dust...
There was no moon...
There was no sound of ocean on the shore..."
Glaumring said to no one...
On his lap lay a pile of musty letters, each letter was gold sealed and with red Corsanctum emblem stamped upon their face, an entire pile of letters. Scrawled upon was the bloodstars, dusted with gold, ruby dust... Forgotten things from far away lands...
Glaumring turned to Randemicos, he smiled a weary smile and said.
" They in far civilization have made an accusation against myself, that 'I' am a heretic...I a soldier of the faith out here on the fringes of their empire where none have trod before, a heretic!"
Glaumring suppressed his laugh, it merely sputtered out and wheezed, he tossed the letter into a pile.
"Can they not see I have greater problems than to worry about whether men who sit in silk and attack books with pen are concerned about what warriors do? If they truly cared they would send one of their priests out here , to muddy his feet and come out here and see , to see what we have done in the name of the bloodstars!"
They were huddled in a dank room, and beyond the walls slices of sunlight came through cracks in the brickwork. Glaumring was filthy, his hair was a scraggled mess, blood and mud caked his face, his beard was bushy and out of control. Aye , but this is the price one paid for long journies into the northern mountain lands and forgotten forests of northern Dwilight.
Glaumring rose and crawled through a broken hole in the brick wall and entered a court yard that was disgustingly packed with soldiers, it was a rank steaming pile of dung and sweat, packed into a small place behind a wall were over a hundred men, wounded, dying, sleeping and waiting guards milled about in the early morning light.
Glaumring surveyed his men and wandered amongst them, they were in rough shape and for so long had been out and survived so much, he comforted the dying, he drank with his captain and sat and watched the horizon with his sentries.
There far out on plane, with sun drifting through the clouds, breaking with gold rays that lightly touched the green rolling grass , hills languished and made their way around where on each side the aqua blue northern ocean encompassed all for miles on each side in its loving embrace. And Glaumring was still and he did not move, and like a dust covered statue he watched as ocean going birds did dip across his vision, calling out and skipping around the towers of the keep they all now found as their home. Out side was thorns and miles of mud, hidden in there was the glowing stank animals of the underworld. But for now they were all safe... Safe from the monsters that bayed hungry for blood in the outside world.
Glaumring held his head and muttered to himself, his head has been so busy lately, there was so much to do and everything now weighted down on him at one time. The stars were testing him...
Night came and Glaumring called his men to the walls, when gathered he took from his cloak the clay disc made for him long ago in Port Raviel, and when all was silent, his men with faces upturned, no fire lit, no light for ages, the sky was an ocean of stars.Glaumring looked at each of their faces , all his loyal soldiers, all gathered here in far away for he nightly tales of the sky.
He placed the disc in his hand and made measurements with it, and spoke while he was doing it, drinking from a wine skin and answering questions his curious men did give, first his finger pointed to a symbol on the clay disc and then upwards to the moon, the bulbous orb did float where the symbol had said it was.
His finger traced a line .. There the star of the milk maiden... There the star of the fisherman... There the planet of fire...
The disc told of time, it gave dates and it told stories, and for each mark Glaumring could go back and tell the tale of a battle of a journey , of a life and of a death. And all sat and listened in the stillness, pipes of tobacco wafted smoke around and the wine skins passed around.
Glaumring traced a line on the clay disc, and he turned to his men, they could see his eyes and his face through the beard, his finger pointed to a place on the disc and Glaumring turned and pointed to the skies, far to the west... His men bowed their heads, they did not speak and for a moment they stopped drinking wine and murmuring... Glaumring stood there with his fingers pointing at the three stars far away in the west...
"They stood for ages...
They turned to dust...
There was no moon...
There was no sound of ocean on the shore..."
Glaumring said to no one...
2049
Roleplaying / History of the founding of Thulsoma.
« on: March 24, 2011, 01:59:57 PM »
This is pre-Saxon invasion history, during the fall of Virovene and the rise of the original Thulsomans
The Maddening star had pointed the way. And with it now in full ascendancy in the night sky somewhere far away. Glaumring stood before the thick thorn and foilage of an abandoned tower on the very edge of the northern world.
It was long ago known as the Storms keep and for ages long forgotten it had been abandoned. Glaumring unfurled his flag of his family house of Bloodmoon and stuck it deep into the ground, the flag did not unfurl but hung limply in the dead air...
Fellow brethern of Sanguis Astroism, I have come from far down south beyond the reach of the blood stars church in a land that when I was a child was bound by superstition and local folklore, Port Raviel. We knew of the blood stars as anyone would see them if they were inclined to study them. But survival was precedent , far above study, as a child I grew up within the walls of the city and we were under constant attack from monster and beast, life was short it was hard and filled with terrible fates for men... Soon as of the recent years others, ,more organized men of renown came to Port Raviel and liberated the cities from the monster scourge.
They spoke to us of the outside world, we were curious, but life in Port Raviel was good... That was until it was all taken away.
I will not go into that story to deeply, I was without home and wandered the land as far west as the Volcano and there had seen things of great horror and north to a land called 'Terran' where the nobles fought against hordes of monsters in their wooden fortresses. And then as time progressed I had heard of far Virovene and Springdale... Of course we had all been told of these places... But something called me.
I arrived in Virovene at the end of the war, But at all sides my new nation was beset many perils, the dead did pile in the streets and starvation wrecked the land. Nations amongst us hostile, and there in Virovene passing soldiers of Morek and the Ravians, called us the children of the Maddening star...
It was written in their books, "Here in year one of the children of the maddening star"
And there it was that it struck me, for our people to survive would not require Austere actions, it would not require Auspicious, for these were cultivated by men that could afford the standing... We would survive by becoming unpredictable... Madness for some is insanity... Insanity for some is chaos... Chaos is unpredictable...
To be unpredictable is to float and pass through the paths well taken, to think like no other man... To do things that all other men would consider ' Madness'
Does this sound like the words of a heretic?
To follow the stars with such awareness and using each one as they shift through their phases... Aye, if I am a heretic than you are all madmen...
The Maddening star had pointed the way. And with it now in full ascendancy in the night sky somewhere far away. Glaumring stood before the thick thorn and foilage of an abandoned tower on the very edge of the northern world.
It was long ago known as the Storms keep and for ages long forgotten it had been abandoned. Glaumring unfurled his flag of his family house of Bloodmoon and stuck it deep into the ground, the flag did not unfurl but hung limply in the dead air...
Fellow brethern of Sanguis Astroism, I have come from far down south beyond the reach of the blood stars church in a land that when I was a child was bound by superstition and local folklore, Port Raviel. We knew of the blood stars as anyone would see them if they were inclined to study them. But survival was precedent , far above study, as a child I grew up within the walls of the city and we were under constant attack from monster and beast, life was short it was hard and filled with terrible fates for men... Soon as of the recent years others, ,more organized men of renown came to Port Raviel and liberated the cities from the monster scourge.
They spoke to us of the outside world, we were curious, but life in Port Raviel was good... That was until it was all taken away.
I will not go into that story to deeply, I was without home and wandered the land as far west as the Volcano and there had seen things of great horror and north to a land called 'Terran' where the nobles fought against hordes of monsters in their wooden fortresses. And then as time progressed I had heard of far Virovene and Springdale... Of course we had all been told of these places... But something called me.
I arrived in Virovene at the end of the war, But at all sides my new nation was beset many perils, the dead did pile in the streets and starvation wrecked the land. Nations amongst us hostile, and there in Virovene passing soldiers of Morek and the Ravians, called us the children of the Maddening star...
It was written in their books, "Here in year one of the children of the maddening star"
And there it was that it struck me, for our people to survive would not require Austere actions, it would not require Auspicious, for these were cultivated by men that could afford the standing... We would survive by becoming unpredictable... Madness for some is insanity... Insanity for some is chaos... Chaos is unpredictable...
To be unpredictable is to float and pass through the paths well taken, to think like no other man... To do things that all other men would consider ' Madness'
Does this sound like the words of a heretic?
To follow the stars with such awareness and using each one as they shift through their phases... Aye, if I am a heretic than you are all madmen...
2050
Roleplaying / Re: History from the time of the Daimon Arcane
« on: March 24, 2011, 01:27:04 PM »
Part VI
Balgathled stoked the fire in the main hall of the province of Ofengail. People of all sorts sat around in groups mumbling to themselves. Balgathled sat by the fire and then began to speak , to any passerby he would seem to be speaking almost to himself. But he was infact speaking to the entire room and when all who heard eventually like a subliminal sound found in their ears his low and rumbling droning voice they turned and listened...
"In the beginning ... I had come from originally far Irombozia in years long passed and was apart of the first combined crusade that was led by the king there against the Daimon hordes in the northlands... We marched through many lands , through starvation and mutiny , runaway soldiers and all matter of travails until we reached the high peaks of the middle of this world... There it was where I first saw the Daimon armies gathered far down on fertile plains , marching ever wich way and razing the towns in the valleys below... My first encounter with the lord Daimon Arcane..."
Balgathled leaned into the firepit with a clay pipe and lit it off a piece of charcoal and then sat back into his wooden chair.
" The King of Irombozia decided that instead of engaging the Daimon horde there and possibly ending the attacks , decided to withdrawal back across the far march and return home... I was young then and full of adventure and decided that I would not return with them... I would march down the mountains into the lands of Vlaandaran and help them against this horde... Little did I know that the very kingdom I had entered was already being manipulated by the Daimons...
In those days I was known as Gathled Runningbear. And I will explain why my name and features have changed in time.
I first met Arcane there in Vlaandaran and he stood as men did, his countenance was that of a learned man and he did not speak ill of humans nor did he seem to be evil, at first we did not trust him , but his way of being , when in his presence one felt comfort, like a warm fog that would cover ones mind and eased ones soul.
Arcane in time then led a rebellion against the kingdoms of man and said to us " Join now , and Daimons and man will stand together...Forever Man will rest within the eternal embrace of the universe and the spiralling arms of the gods"
And we did rise up from our wooden thrones and fought back the loyalists to the human king and there in that time we did create a kingdom on earth , ruled by a Daimon...
And it was good...Or so we thought.
We then began the fight against the entire world , but with each attack we would beseech of the enemy nations to join us , that we could be at peace with the Daimons and that they were not evil and that man could cast aside their xenophobic irrational hatred of that inwich they did not know and rise upon this new moon and become gods of all that was... Yet none did listen.
In this time I became the Viscount of Tindle and there we did build much and raise statues to Arcane.
Time passed and then I found myself alone , Arcane did fall into a rift in the mountains , with a great puff of smoke , I also was pulled deep into this nether realm below the earth... And there Arcane said to me " Gathled , I am not to return for long time, this must you know that these lands and its twisted forms of branches and tightly wound roots of mankind are ready not for enlightenment... Now I recede, but before I must go , I shall award you with a new name and I shall take you down with me into far lands and so that you can see the kingdom of the Daimons , and there it will change you and there you will see the masses millions upon countless infinite races of a myriad galaxies and far universes gathered on the plains in unity and brotherhood with Daimons , and there you will see with this land there stands none of the race known as 'Man' "... And there I stood and I wept for man was alone , that amidst the earth and worlds of unknown , only man had not joined with Arcane...
I was then put into a great sleep for long I am not sure , but upon awakening found that the kingdom of Vlaandaran had forgotten Arcane and its nobles would refuse to say his name...
That is when I decided to join the priesthood , that I would continue the words of Arcane and prepare for his return , but none would have of this , and so I was banished ..."
Balgathled drew on his pipe and sat with a darkness around him, his long black and scraggly beard and unkempt hair knotted around his face... He withdrew into his own head for a moment and for a long time he stared at nothing , not moving , the room silent around him , shadows from the fire animated the cracks in his face and if one did look at his face it would seem to be changing like dancing fire , so many flickering emotions and facial expressions , different faces ... And then he spoke.
"You don't trust me ... I am a loyal fighter , I gave my all to Arcane , and now I have nothing ... I am a stubborn man , I am willing to fight for Mesh if you let me , allow me to be your suicide trooper, allow me to fight deep into the lands of Vlaandaran and use the faith of Arcane against them , allow me to show my loyalty to you by raising the people the followers of Arcane against the Vlaandaran, to create havoc... I will become the false prophet and when Vlaandaran has fallen I will renounce my priesthood and faith in Arcane and walk once again under the stars a free man..."
And with that he rose from the wooden chair and stood his palms outstretched to the gathered crowd and said.
" I am your prisoner, command me to do what I must ... I will not question for I have sinned greatly against this vast land and its brave fighters, I await my fate..."
Balgathled stoked the fire in the main hall of the province of Ofengail. People of all sorts sat around in groups mumbling to themselves. Balgathled sat by the fire and then began to speak , to any passerby he would seem to be speaking almost to himself. But he was infact speaking to the entire room and when all who heard eventually like a subliminal sound found in their ears his low and rumbling droning voice they turned and listened...
"In the beginning ... I had come from originally far Irombozia in years long passed and was apart of the first combined crusade that was led by the king there against the Daimon hordes in the northlands... We marched through many lands , through starvation and mutiny , runaway soldiers and all matter of travails until we reached the high peaks of the middle of this world... There it was where I first saw the Daimon armies gathered far down on fertile plains , marching ever wich way and razing the towns in the valleys below... My first encounter with the lord Daimon Arcane..."
Balgathled leaned into the firepit with a clay pipe and lit it off a piece of charcoal and then sat back into his wooden chair.
" The King of Irombozia decided that instead of engaging the Daimon horde there and possibly ending the attacks , decided to withdrawal back across the far march and return home... I was young then and full of adventure and decided that I would not return with them... I would march down the mountains into the lands of Vlaandaran and help them against this horde... Little did I know that the very kingdom I had entered was already being manipulated by the Daimons...
In those days I was known as Gathled Runningbear. And I will explain why my name and features have changed in time.
I first met Arcane there in Vlaandaran and he stood as men did, his countenance was that of a learned man and he did not speak ill of humans nor did he seem to be evil, at first we did not trust him , but his way of being , when in his presence one felt comfort, like a warm fog that would cover ones mind and eased ones soul.
Arcane in time then led a rebellion against the kingdoms of man and said to us " Join now , and Daimons and man will stand together...Forever Man will rest within the eternal embrace of the universe and the spiralling arms of the gods"
And we did rise up from our wooden thrones and fought back the loyalists to the human king and there in that time we did create a kingdom on earth , ruled by a Daimon...
And it was good...Or so we thought.
We then began the fight against the entire world , but with each attack we would beseech of the enemy nations to join us , that we could be at peace with the Daimons and that they were not evil and that man could cast aside their xenophobic irrational hatred of that inwich they did not know and rise upon this new moon and become gods of all that was... Yet none did listen.
In this time I became the Viscount of Tindle and there we did build much and raise statues to Arcane.
Time passed and then I found myself alone , Arcane did fall into a rift in the mountains , with a great puff of smoke , I also was pulled deep into this nether realm below the earth... And there Arcane said to me " Gathled , I am not to return for long time, this must you know that these lands and its twisted forms of branches and tightly wound roots of mankind are ready not for enlightenment... Now I recede, but before I must go , I shall award you with a new name and I shall take you down with me into far lands and so that you can see the kingdom of the Daimons , and there it will change you and there you will see the masses millions upon countless infinite races of a myriad galaxies and far universes gathered on the plains in unity and brotherhood with Daimons , and there you will see with this land there stands none of the race known as 'Man' "... And there I stood and I wept for man was alone , that amidst the earth and worlds of unknown , only man had not joined with Arcane...
I was then put into a great sleep for long I am not sure , but upon awakening found that the kingdom of Vlaandaran had forgotten Arcane and its nobles would refuse to say his name...
That is when I decided to join the priesthood , that I would continue the words of Arcane and prepare for his return , but none would have of this , and so I was banished ..."
Balgathled drew on his pipe and sat with a darkness around him, his long black and scraggly beard and unkempt hair knotted around his face... He withdrew into his own head for a moment and for a long time he stared at nothing , not moving , the room silent around him , shadows from the fire animated the cracks in his face and if one did look at his face it would seem to be changing like dancing fire , so many flickering emotions and facial expressions , different faces ... And then he spoke.
"You don't trust me ... I am a loyal fighter , I gave my all to Arcane , and now I have nothing ... I am a stubborn man , I am willing to fight for Mesh if you let me , allow me to be your suicide trooper, allow me to fight deep into the lands of Vlaandaran and use the faith of Arcane against them , allow me to show my loyalty to you by raising the people the followers of Arcane against the Vlaandaran, to create havoc... I will become the false prophet and when Vlaandaran has fallen I will renounce my priesthood and faith in Arcane and walk once again under the stars a free man..."
And with that he rose from the wooden chair and stood his palms outstretched to the gathered crowd and said.
" I am your prisoner, command me to do what I must ... I will not question for I have sinned greatly against this vast land and its brave fighters, I await my fate..."
2051
Roleplaying / Re: History from the time of the Daimon Arcane
« on: March 24, 2011, 01:25:52 PM »
Part V
The drums at the head of the line of marchers began their slow and steady single beat. Gathled held his sword above his head , a group of shield bearers bent low holding a flat shield for him to climb up on. Gathled climbed the shield , the great crowd of soldiers began to whoop and call, clanging their weapons on their shields and making ghostly howls. The sky was dark over Haffemet with sweeping epic clouds roiling and boiling across the sky flecked with red from the distance west towards Reeds and Watto and grey and black all the way to far Tindle. The great plain of Haffemet with rays of sunbeams , sun bursts on water and river ways far below moved swiftly off into the darkness of the east lands.
The drums increased their tempo. Gathled merely stood on the shield , his sword raised. The sky far away cracked with lightening and an electric stream ripped across the sky. With that he pointed his sword east , the calls of the soldiers died down and all was silent, a thunder roll, like a massive iron ball spun on the great table of the clouds , slowly it made its way towards the collected troop and when the sound was mixed with the sound of the single drums , all shuddered under the heavens. The thunder died and from it came the slow low ghostly howl of the company of soldiers, slam, swords on shields, slam... swords resounded on metal , the howling of the soldiers began to wind upwards as if being drawn into the very sky and with the high wailing the drums began to increase their tempo to that of a running heart , THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD!!!
Gathleds sword was suddenly lit by a lightening strike and with that he let slip from his throat a piercing cry that was the sound of a million dying dogs , the sound of burning stone... and his line of soldiers erupted , and with him being pulled on the wave , his soldiers began to run , like an avalanche ... FORWARD FORWARD!!!
beating drums and hearts in unison , with the sound of ghosts and steel on steel , with blood and fire , ARCANE HAS SPOKEN !!! ARCANE HAS SPOKEN!!! ARCANE HAS SPOKEN AND NOW AND FOREVER WE SHALL HEAR HIS VOICE RESOUNDING !!! WITH HIS SWORD HE SHALL CLEAVE THIS LAND ASUNDER AND WITH HIS VOICE BURN THE FLESH OF LIES FROM THE MEAT OF MANKIND! WE ARE THE VANGUARD OF A NEW AGE .... WE ARE THE VANGUARD OF HEAVEN! WE ARE THE CHOSEN ONES OF ARCANE! FORWARD FORWARD!!!
Gathleds legions did spill down upon the land that did roll down from the rivers and hills of Reeds and they ran as fast they could , for they were imbued with holy fire and godlike energy , and nothing did break their stride , nor could hold them fast... DEATH TO PLERGOTH!!! They chanted , for even though Tindle was far , they would not faulter , no, by the time they would break on the far shore of grass that is Tindle , they would have smashed it as like a hurricane does a sandy shore....
There was no joy in this... Gathled brought his sword down on the limb of the captive peasant , the limb severed knocking through the bone and skin, blood flowed and the man wrenched away, a look of shock on his face as his eyes stared into Gathleds own black ringed orbs. Then Gathled watched the peasant writhe on the ground their eyes never swaying from eachother. Gathled saw in the Plergothians eyes , a fuming hatred, but there was also a resignation that floated a few inches ghost like pale , like a distended mask hovering above his face...
The village in Jaekind had been slaughtered , it was a small village , 7 or 8 dishevelled and miserable dog like people , decapitated and hanging their limbs all hacked off and swaying or screaming while crawling on the ground gnawing at the dirt with their teeth... It was quick work. It was not pleasant...
When night did come , and silent mist covered the land , the tree's darkened and Gathled's men huddled close around ,their swords drawn, they were not forest people at all... The Tindlemen within the ranks made signs of goodluck and would not stray far , they smelled something coming, they knew that whatever had happened here had not gone unnoticed... they cursed the gnarled roots and hanging jungle thick vines of the Plergothian forest lands... This spirit infested reserve of ancient tree's and unknowably long memory...
Gathled gathered his men and with one final look at the smoke , he now realized it was to late, darkness would aid the Plergothians, they would come like flys...
"Quickly! we have delayed ... We must make haste from this dark and evil place"
A panic filled the line of men and some made fast leading the pack of men through tangled forest and trails, their swords hacked at nettle and vines , and soon Gathled had found himself lost with a small group of his men, he heard calls and then himself gave the command, he yelled it out for silence, there were crickets calling, someone was still wailing off in the leaves and haze... He called again, but far off and echoed a voice or two was still calling out...
"Where be thee!" The voice called out
"Where?!?!" The voice was choked with fear, it came like the sound of a dog barking.
Gathled made for his men to halt, crackling of twings, the sound of one far off hacking through a tangle of brambles, cracking of branches... Silent... be very Silent...
"Whe...." the voice called out again.
Silence , they stood in a muddy bramble, a residual echo of the mans voice was eaten by the dense foiliage.
Gathled could barely see, but for the few feet in his face was black and twisted , his heart was pounding , he could hear all his mens hearts pounding in the stillness, their breath bated and trying to contain their exploding lungs...Gathleds eyes twitched , his head was going to explode, it was so hot and humid here, his eyes tried desparetly to focus, to see anything a mere few feet in front of his face.
A man was looking at Gathled through the bushes, Gathled saw the face slowly unwind itself from the surrounding darkness and there it floated , but by then it was too late, the arrows began to slice the air and cut through the small party.
"Charge, attack and slice! DO not stop until we are far from this bloody hell" a cry slipped from Gathled's lips and his men covered in arrows spilled forward into the tree's and bushes , many dead before they even reached their enemies...Gathled himself was covered in arrows but none by the luck of Arcane had pierced anywhere that could stop him, for he hacked into the Plergothian scouts and there he did deal much death , but in the end there were too many attackers and Gathled's men made quick and harried flight , lost within the darkness of the Plergothian forests...
A great puff of smoke and the crack of lightening in the sky towards the mountains around Reeds and a rumble from the earth could be heard from miles around.
And with such grand entrance Balgathled formerly Gathled of Tindle servant of the Lord Arcane did once again step upon the lush and green grasses of the land he had for so long been gone from.
Tormented and weighted by long sojourn , Balgathled had now arisen anew and for reasons unknown allowed to return from lands now shrouded in fog and blackness,his mind now fading blankness from whence he did come, like a dream upon awakening. Before him in array was stars that stretched eternally outwards , and below a great plain of green verdant valley that stretched down towards the city of Reeds. Home for so long.
Balgathled pulled his great bear cloak around the silks and clothes he wore, and bound his silken turban fast against his head, his boots with curled toes , each part of his clothing decorated with jewels and precious stones hidden from view now, and then as with purpose made his way on foot across the land.
Upon arrival at the gates of Reeds word did spread of a man with a single eye tattooed upon his forhead and speaking in song .
I have returned oh Lord Arcane from nothingness I have returned from where we all man of earth once walked I have drank the blood of far oceans. I have seen the falling of planets and great seas of fire. The curl of a comets tail in the very heavens as it tears into the face of a moon on silent lands of aqua-blue air... I have heard your call... I have not forgotten...
And his song was long and droning and many people were scared by it's sound , and worried by the look of this mad looking man that waited at the gates.
"Are these gates still held by the followers of Arcane ? Or have they been taken shall I return to whence I came or wander out into wastes? Where oh where are the peoples of legend?" And his voice rang out and all could hear it , and Balgathled did await a reply...
The drums at the head of the line of marchers began their slow and steady single beat. Gathled held his sword above his head , a group of shield bearers bent low holding a flat shield for him to climb up on. Gathled climbed the shield , the great crowd of soldiers began to whoop and call, clanging their weapons on their shields and making ghostly howls. The sky was dark over Haffemet with sweeping epic clouds roiling and boiling across the sky flecked with red from the distance west towards Reeds and Watto and grey and black all the way to far Tindle. The great plain of Haffemet with rays of sunbeams , sun bursts on water and river ways far below moved swiftly off into the darkness of the east lands.
The drums increased their tempo. Gathled merely stood on the shield , his sword raised. The sky far away cracked with lightening and an electric stream ripped across the sky. With that he pointed his sword east , the calls of the soldiers died down and all was silent, a thunder roll, like a massive iron ball spun on the great table of the clouds , slowly it made its way towards the collected troop and when the sound was mixed with the sound of the single drums , all shuddered under the heavens. The thunder died and from it came the slow low ghostly howl of the company of soldiers, slam, swords on shields, slam... swords resounded on metal , the howling of the soldiers began to wind upwards as if being drawn into the very sky and with the high wailing the drums began to increase their tempo to that of a running heart , THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD!!!
Gathleds sword was suddenly lit by a lightening strike and with that he let slip from his throat a piercing cry that was the sound of a million dying dogs , the sound of burning stone... and his line of soldiers erupted , and with him being pulled on the wave , his soldiers began to run , like an avalanche ... FORWARD FORWARD!!!
beating drums and hearts in unison , with the sound of ghosts and steel on steel , with blood and fire , ARCANE HAS SPOKEN !!! ARCANE HAS SPOKEN!!! ARCANE HAS SPOKEN AND NOW AND FOREVER WE SHALL HEAR HIS VOICE RESOUNDING !!! WITH HIS SWORD HE SHALL CLEAVE THIS LAND ASUNDER AND WITH HIS VOICE BURN THE FLESH OF LIES FROM THE MEAT OF MANKIND! WE ARE THE VANGUARD OF A NEW AGE .... WE ARE THE VANGUARD OF HEAVEN! WE ARE THE CHOSEN ONES OF ARCANE! FORWARD FORWARD!!!
Gathleds legions did spill down upon the land that did roll down from the rivers and hills of Reeds and they ran as fast they could , for they were imbued with holy fire and godlike energy , and nothing did break their stride , nor could hold them fast... DEATH TO PLERGOTH!!! They chanted , for even though Tindle was far , they would not faulter , no, by the time they would break on the far shore of grass that is Tindle , they would have smashed it as like a hurricane does a sandy shore....
There was no joy in this... Gathled brought his sword down on the limb of the captive peasant , the limb severed knocking through the bone and skin, blood flowed and the man wrenched away, a look of shock on his face as his eyes stared into Gathleds own black ringed orbs. Then Gathled watched the peasant writhe on the ground their eyes never swaying from eachother. Gathled saw in the Plergothians eyes , a fuming hatred, but there was also a resignation that floated a few inches ghost like pale , like a distended mask hovering above his face...
The village in Jaekind had been slaughtered , it was a small village , 7 or 8 dishevelled and miserable dog like people , decapitated and hanging their limbs all hacked off and swaying or screaming while crawling on the ground gnawing at the dirt with their teeth... It was quick work. It was not pleasant...
When night did come , and silent mist covered the land , the tree's darkened and Gathled's men huddled close around ,their swords drawn, they were not forest people at all... The Tindlemen within the ranks made signs of goodluck and would not stray far , they smelled something coming, they knew that whatever had happened here had not gone unnoticed... they cursed the gnarled roots and hanging jungle thick vines of the Plergothian forest lands... This spirit infested reserve of ancient tree's and unknowably long memory...
Gathled gathered his men and with one final look at the smoke , he now realized it was to late, darkness would aid the Plergothians, they would come like flys...
"Quickly! we have delayed ... We must make haste from this dark and evil place"
A panic filled the line of men and some made fast leading the pack of men through tangled forest and trails, their swords hacked at nettle and vines , and soon Gathled had found himself lost with a small group of his men, he heard calls and then himself gave the command, he yelled it out for silence, there were crickets calling, someone was still wailing off in the leaves and haze... He called again, but far off and echoed a voice or two was still calling out...
"Where be thee!" The voice called out
"Where?!?!" The voice was choked with fear, it came like the sound of a dog barking.
Gathled made for his men to halt, crackling of twings, the sound of one far off hacking through a tangle of brambles, cracking of branches... Silent... be very Silent...
"Whe...." the voice called out again.
Silence , they stood in a muddy bramble, a residual echo of the mans voice was eaten by the dense foiliage.
Gathled could barely see, but for the few feet in his face was black and twisted , his heart was pounding , he could hear all his mens hearts pounding in the stillness, their breath bated and trying to contain their exploding lungs...Gathleds eyes twitched , his head was going to explode, it was so hot and humid here, his eyes tried desparetly to focus, to see anything a mere few feet in front of his face.
A man was looking at Gathled through the bushes, Gathled saw the face slowly unwind itself from the surrounding darkness and there it floated , but by then it was too late, the arrows began to slice the air and cut through the small party.
"Charge, attack and slice! DO not stop until we are far from this bloody hell" a cry slipped from Gathled's lips and his men covered in arrows spilled forward into the tree's and bushes , many dead before they even reached their enemies...Gathled himself was covered in arrows but none by the luck of Arcane had pierced anywhere that could stop him, for he hacked into the Plergothian scouts and there he did deal much death , but in the end there were too many attackers and Gathled's men made quick and harried flight , lost within the darkness of the Plergothian forests...
A great puff of smoke and the crack of lightening in the sky towards the mountains around Reeds and a rumble from the earth could be heard from miles around.
And with such grand entrance Balgathled formerly Gathled of Tindle servant of the Lord Arcane did once again step upon the lush and green grasses of the land he had for so long been gone from.
Tormented and weighted by long sojourn , Balgathled had now arisen anew and for reasons unknown allowed to return from lands now shrouded in fog and blackness,his mind now fading blankness from whence he did come, like a dream upon awakening. Before him in array was stars that stretched eternally outwards , and below a great plain of green verdant valley that stretched down towards the city of Reeds. Home for so long.
Balgathled pulled his great bear cloak around the silks and clothes he wore, and bound his silken turban fast against his head, his boots with curled toes , each part of his clothing decorated with jewels and precious stones hidden from view now, and then as with purpose made his way on foot across the land.
Upon arrival at the gates of Reeds word did spread of a man with a single eye tattooed upon his forhead and speaking in song .
I have returned oh Lord Arcane from nothingness I have returned from where we all man of earth once walked I have drank the blood of far oceans. I have seen the falling of planets and great seas of fire. The curl of a comets tail in the very heavens as it tears into the face of a moon on silent lands of aqua-blue air... I have heard your call... I have not forgotten...
And his song was long and droning and many people were scared by it's sound , and worried by the look of this mad looking man that waited at the gates.
"Are these gates still held by the followers of Arcane ? Or have they been taken shall I return to whence I came or wander out into wastes? Where oh where are the peoples of legend?" And his voice rang out and all could hear it , and Balgathled did await a reply...
2052
Roleplaying / Re: History from the time of the Daimon Arcane
« on: March 24, 2011, 01:24:58 PM »
Part IV
Gathled awoke with a start, the flap on his tent was loose and was flapping on the side of the canvas, he had remembered that it was closed, maybe it had come lose. Outside the land was still, blackness.
Something glinted in the corner of the room, Gathled swung himself from his bed and sprawled as a crossbow bolt shot through his thin bedding. He grabbed his sword and flung his body towards the attacker, the assasin fell backwards through a slit in the tent , and then Gathled was on top of him, punching with his left fist and trying to bring his sword down on the intruders neck , but the sinewy muscles of this assasin held fast the sword, Gathled head butted the man , the assasin rolled and kicked hard , Gathled flew backwards a few feet and landed in the canvas of the tent, by now the assasin had regained his footing and drew a thin stilletto blade that was black oiled with poison, he stabbed at Gathled but Gathled rolled away, he kicked some dust towards the assasin , then Gathled came in fast with his sword in both hands, the intruder parryied it barely on the small blade, the swords ground down to their hilts, Gathled pushed hard and the man fell backwards, stumbled and then with the deft moves of an acrobat he began to roll and flip along the sand until he was several feet away . And there he stood and gestured with the blade...
Now the sound of the guard could be heard and a dog was barking somewhere in the camp...
"I will be back...for you... *huff* *huff*.." The Assasin spoke with a form of Heenite dialect common to the locals on the fringes of Naraka and Tor.
and with that the assasin lunged into the blackness in a dead run across the wasteland , the guards pursued but lost the assasin , they found only the pit where he had buried and muzzled his escape horse...
Gathled sat in his tent and for the rest of the night he studied the crossbow bolt...
The kingdom attacked on both sides, the king abdicating and retreating from the land , aye ... hard times this may be, Gathled had seen hard times before, the same armies that he and his brethern had fought before had now pursued them it seems even here, were back again... When Antoza stood alone... They called out to the surrounding lands for respite , yet none came , the kingdoms of the south thought they were safe... Aye hard times this may have been, but they are back again...Aye even at times here, some would say like it was a sore, cancerous name , dont mention Antoza, as if it could never happen again...
Gathled kicked the spitoon from under his table and it sailed across the room and bounced off the wall showering the front of the tavern with spit. He had been sitting out on the street with common rabble , drinking for days now... maybe even weeks? He had no men , nor gold to procure such things. Yet now more than ever they were needed ... He craved battle, for so long he had ranted and raved about the coming wars and all around him had believed that none would come...Fools, we are made for war... the only reason we exist here is to create war and havoc... Yet, some would think that summits and councils are a replacement for hard reality...Kill or be killed, dog devour dog ... this is our lot in life...
"We must commence unlimited war eternally, be done with alliances and be done with our chatter"
"Whot?" a drunk man sitting beside Gathled turned his head , wobbling , his eyes askew " whot did you say?"
" I was speaking out loud..."
"Oi..." the man turned back to his drink , Gathled quaffed his own drink and went back into his own head.
"aye, it is all this talk and alliances that have created weakness, better to be sent to certain doom than to be living death, I need money and then I will be able to fight and finally die..."
Gathled rose from the table and left the tavern, he wandered the streets, he searched for someone who could aid him, to lend him a few coins for war... yet could find none.
Far away in Island Apasur the waves did crash upon the shore for since time long uncounted... Gathled found his dagger and took it from the sheath, he laid it against his neck and made to slice the throat. He sat alone in a side street, the last of his kind... The blade was cold against his neck, and for long not thought of he did sit and think of his home , why he had left , and why he was down here in this rotten place...
Gathled awoke with a start to the sound of broken falling glass. He grabbed his sword and raced across the room of the hall and peered out the second floor window. There seemed to be a riot going on in the center of the commune, people were yelling and screaming.
Arcane has forsaken us! He has abandoned us! Arcane the false god!
Gathled hearing the cries and chanting became furious and raced into the main square, there the people raced around ever wich way gnawing at their robes and tearing their hair. He grabbed one man as he flew by tearing the orange tunic with the red 'A' of Arcane on it and casting it to the ground in disdain.
"What is Arcane's name are you doing?" Gathled roared into the mans face while dragging him along the ground.
" A prophet! A man has said that Arcane has abandoned us!" the man screamed and wriggled in Gathleds grip.
"YOU FOOLS! DO YOU NOT KNOW THAT THE VERY PORTAL TO THE DEPTHS OF OUR VERY UNIVERSE HAS BEEN OPENED? AND FROM IT MARCH THE VERY FORCES OF ARCANE!"
"It is a lie! We have heard the word of the prophet!"
"Wich goat herder do you speak of?"
"A prophet of the Diashi! he has seen the smoke from afar, heard the rumble! REEDS HAS SUNK BENEATH THE RIVER ALL IS LOST!"
Gathled cuffed the man and threw him away from him, but now the crowd that was once a rabble was now organized and marching towards him with torches and pitchforks. Just then Gathled saw Shintuk racing across the open ground, behind him his troops were trailing , being harrassed and beaten , rocks rained down on them. Gathled called to Shintuk above the din and was acknowledged.
"Gather the remaining loyalists and head to my hall, we shall barricade it and fight it out from there... The entire country has come under the spell of running dogs of Plergoth and their wicked and twisted religion!"
And with that Gathled sounded the call and his own men reached the hall and they began the arduous task of arresting and beating the rioters...
From within the town a great crash could be heard, as the once mighty and beautiful totem statue of Arcane came crashing down ,sending debris and thickets scattering across the square, flames licked the dry wood and soon the wooden brick-a-brack statue was an inferno...
The Hall was filled with the wailing of the tortured and imprisoned... Soon much blood would cleanse this land and all traitors would pay dearly for this betrayal... Gathleds hatred for the Tindlemen now only increased...
And with that it once again began the hard and ever present rain that had for so long not fallen across the land... But now the rain was black and resinous and covered everything in soot and shadow, what once was green and bountiful withered away from the cold touch of the droplets... Tindle would now be cursed...
Gathled awoke with a start, the flap on his tent was loose and was flapping on the side of the canvas, he had remembered that it was closed, maybe it had come lose. Outside the land was still, blackness.
Something glinted in the corner of the room, Gathled swung himself from his bed and sprawled as a crossbow bolt shot through his thin bedding. He grabbed his sword and flung his body towards the attacker, the assasin fell backwards through a slit in the tent , and then Gathled was on top of him, punching with his left fist and trying to bring his sword down on the intruders neck , but the sinewy muscles of this assasin held fast the sword, Gathled head butted the man , the assasin rolled and kicked hard , Gathled flew backwards a few feet and landed in the canvas of the tent, by now the assasin had regained his footing and drew a thin stilletto blade that was black oiled with poison, he stabbed at Gathled but Gathled rolled away, he kicked some dust towards the assasin , then Gathled came in fast with his sword in both hands, the intruder parryied it barely on the small blade, the swords ground down to their hilts, Gathled pushed hard and the man fell backwards, stumbled and then with the deft moves of an acrobat he began to roll and flip along the sand until he was several feet away . And there he stood and gestured with the blade...
Now the sound of the guard could be heard and a dog was barking somewhere in the camp...
"I will be back...for you... *huff* *huff*.." The Assasin spoke with a form of Heenite dialect common to the locals on the fringes of Naraka and Tor.
and with that the assasin lunged into the blackness in a dead run across the wasteland , the guards pursued but lost the assasin , they found only the pit where he had buried and muzzled his escape horse...
Gathled sat in his tent and for the rest of the night he studied the crossbow bolt...
The kingdom attacked on both sides, the king abdicating and retreating from the land , aye ... hard times this may be, Gathled had seen hard times before, the same armies that he and his brethern had fought before had now pursued them it seems even here, were back again... When Antoza stood alone... They called out to the surrounding lands for respite , yet none came , the kingdoms of the south thought they were safe... Aye hard times this may have been, but they are back again...Aye even at times here, some would say like it was a sore, cancerous name , dont mention Antoza, as if it could never happen again...
Gathled kicked the spitoon from under his table and it sailed across the room and bounced off the wall showering the front of the tavern with spit. He had been sitting out on the street with common rabble , drinking for days now... maybe even weeks? He had no men , nor gold to procure such things. Yet now more than ever they were needed ... He craved battle, for so long he had ranted and raved about the coming wars and all around him had believed that none would come...Fools, we are made for war... the only reason we exist here is to create war and havoc... Yet, some would think that summits and councils are a replacement for hard reality...Kill or be killed, dog devour dog ... this is our lot in life...
"We must commence unlimited war eternally, be done with alliances and be done with our chatter"
"Whot?" a drunk man sitting beside Gathled turned his head , wobbling , his eyes askew " whot did you say?"
" I was speaking out loud..."
"Oi..." the man turned back to his drink , Gathled quaffed his own drink and went back into his own head.
"aye, it is all this talk and alliances that have created weakness, better to be sent to certain doom than to be living death, I need money and then I will be able to fight and finally die..."
Gathled rose from the table and left the tavern, he wandered the streets, he searched for someone who could aid him, to lend him a few coins for war... yet could find none.
Far away in Island Apasur the waves did crash upon the shore for since time long uncounted... Gathled found his dagger and took it from the sheath, he laid it against his neck and made to slice the throat. He sat alone in a side street, the last of his kind... The blade was cold against his neck, and for long not thought of he did sit and think of his home , why he had left , and why he was down here in this rotten place...
Gathled awoke with a start to the sound of broken falling glass. He grabbed his sword and raced across the room of the hall and peered out the second floor window. There seemed to be a riot going on in the center of the commune, people were yelling and screaming.
Arcane has forsaken us! He has abandoned us! Arcane the false god!
Gathled hearing the cries and chanting became furious and raced into the main square, there the people raced around ever wich way gnawing at their robes and tearing their hair. He grabbed one man as he flew by tearing the orange tunic with the red 'A' of Arcane on it and casting it to the ground in disdain.
"What is Arcane's name are you doing?" Gathled roared into the mans face while dragging him along the ground.
" A prophet! A man has said that Arcane has abandoned us!" the man screamed and wriggled in Gathleds grip.
"YOU FOOLS! DO YOU NOT KNOW THAT THE VERY PORTAL TO THE DEPTHS OF OUR VERY UNIVERSE HAS BEEN OPENED? AND FROM IT MARCH THE VERY FORCES OF ARCANE!"
"It is a lie! We have heard the word of the prophet!"
"Wich goat herder do you speak of?"
"A prophet of the Diashi! he has seen the smoke from afar, heard the rumble! REEDS HAS SUNK BENEATH THE RIVER ALL IS LOST!"
Gathled cuffed the man and threw him away from him, but now the crowd that was once a rabble was now organized and marching towards him with torches and pitchforks. Just then Gathled saw Shintuk racing across the open ground, behind him his troops were trailing , being harrassed and beaten , rocks rained down on them. Gathled called to Shintuk above the din and was acknowledged.
"Gather the remaining loyalists and head to my hall, we shall barricade it and fight it out from there... The entire country has come under the spell of running dogs of Plergoth and their wicked and twisted religion!"
And with that Gathled sounded the call and his own men reached the hall and they began the arduous task of arresting and beating the rioters...
From within the town a great crash could be heard, as the once mighty and beautiful totem statue of Arcane came crashing down ,sending debris and thickets scattering across the square, flames licked the dry wood and soon the wooden brick-a-brack statue was an inferno...
The Hall was filled with the wailing of the tortured and imprisoned... Soon much blood would cleanse this land and all traitors would pay dearly for this betrayal... Gathleds hatred for the Tindlemen now only increased...
And with that it once again began the hard and ever present rain that had for so long not fallen across the land... But now the rain was black and resinous and covered everything in soot and shadow, what once was green and bountiful withered away from the cold touch of the droplets... Tindle would now be cursed...
2053
Roleplaying / Re: History from the time of the Daimon Arcane
« on: March 24, 2011, 01:24:17 PM »
Part III
Tindle had changed, gone were the hanging racks of rebels... gone were the dogs and crows. The main commune town was silent and for the last while no rain had come.
Gathled saw the peasants in new garb, they all wore burlap tunics with the colors of Vlaandaran , a gothic "A" patched onto their uniforms. They no longer seemed the ignorant toilers of the previous days , now within their eyes there was a different look , not one of resignation , nor of contentment ... Gathled could not read it , he watched them waiting for one to break out from its order... But no such actions came . He saw that they barely reacted to their environment . They would dig endlessly, they would build without tire, they would answer and would do without the crack of the whip nor threats . They just did and they at least seemed to be enjoying themselves, they looked stronger ... They looked like people for once...
Gathled still hated them...
He surveyed the lands on horseback for once , instead of on foot like he usually did, the horse did not take well to him , nor did he to the horse , it was finicky and delayed with his commands, he hated this beast also...
When night slowly made its way across the star strewn wastes of the flat blackness , Gathled sat and wished he to was marching to Naraka... It seemed so long since his blade had drank the blood of infidels.
Until then he would continue with this place, make it work ... Bring honor to Arcane and glory to the empire.
He laughed to himself... Tindle brings glory?
He hated this place...
The dogs of the federation are drooling on the very gates of this kingdom...Not long until the very gold of our gates and women are dimmed with the very frost of their fetid breath. Here now we must stand against this assault , Vlaandarans , fellow Daimons ... United against vast hordes of these uncivilized godless sons of whores. May each one of us stand before the gates of Reeds and hold within our teeth the very names of all who fell before us... For if ,or when we are gone their names will at least echo throughout these lands long after we ourselves are ground out on the hooves and boots of our enemies. The names of our fallen will harry them like ghosts in the night and make for a frosted crop harvested on these lands forever more...
aye, bitter be the fruits of this land if it shall fall...
We must now , draw our swords , hold them high into the heavens and dip them into the very soil of the moon, and with one fell swoop drag the very skies down upon their heads...
Are we not ready to fight? For if not where shall we go now?
Several days before...
Gathled lunged forward into the battle , the mass of soldiers at his back roared like thunder into the plains of Watto.
There Gathled saw , lord Arcane ... His form had changed , or was it merely Gathled's mind playing tricks on him , Arcane was larger than before, Arcane swung into the crowd of oncoming Heenites and flung them ever wich way in a jumble of falling bodies. Heartened Gathled fought harder, and hacked deeper into the foray... He reached a point where all around him bodies and piles of weapons did lay about in stacks , he fought until he saw none of his own banners in the melee, nor his own men, yet he fought on...
Then, as if by strike of lightening he did feel great pain in his shoulder, and there lay an arrow, he chopped it in half with one fell swoop of his blade and continued fighting , but now another arrow had lodged itself into his leg , and then another into his chest... grazing his heart...
He fell to the ground and light did flicker in his eyes, he saw his men gathered around him in slow motion beating back the Heenite men, and then felt himself being dragged backwards across blood slicked grass and over the hills of the dead...
And there did he fade into blackness...
Naraka... Edge of the Heen empire... the wasteland...
Gathled stood and watched the grand and empty desert of dunes rise before him , he stood on the mere edge of the waste that stretched deep into the savage Heen empire, he had been here before , he had fought here , he would do so again. The contrast between Naraka was stark and defined , yet here there was no rain... none , for ages this land had sat empty , dry... dead and waiting for conquest and to be tamed...
Gathled prepared his equipment, loaded a feisty camel with water and and then his own riding camel with his weapons and gear , he wore now the long flowing robes of the desert nomads, he had left his platemail and bear cloak in the rearguard camp. Around his head he wrapped a black piece of cloth that covered his face from the sand, sun and dry coarse wind. He would dress like a Heenite, he would become one with the desert.
He waited , for Nymatal and Shintuk to arrive, he was sure that they would be close. He knew not why , but he was eager to be outside in the endless horizon of sand , the ocean of glass.
A dust storm rose on the wind and Gathled turned to go back to his tent... The howling wind made sounds , like voices , he heard them carried on the wind ... An Echo , as if the very ground beneath him was the boiling lid of hell.
Tindle had changed, gone were the hanging racks of rebels... gone were the dogs and crows. The main commune town was silent and for the last while no rain had come.
Gathled saw the peasants in new garb, they all wore burlap tunics with the colors of Vlaandaran , a gothic "A" patched onto their uniforms. They no longer seemed the ignorant toilers of the previous days , now within their eyes there was a different look , not one of resignation , nor of contentment ... Gathled could not read it , he watched them waiting for one to break out from its order... But no such actions came . He saw that they barely reacted to their environment . They would dig endlessly, they would build without tire, they would answer and would do without the crack of the whip nor threats . They just did and they at least seemed to be enjoying themselves, they looked stronger ... They looked like people for once...
Gathled still hated them...
He surveyed the lands on horseback for once , instead of on foot like he usually did, the horse did not take well to him , nor did he to the horse , it was finicky and delayed with his commands, he hated this beast also...
When night slowly made its way across the star strewn wastes of the flat blackness , Gathled sat and wished he to was marching to Naraka... It seemed so long since his blade had drank the blood of infidels.
Until then he would continue with this place, make it work ... Bring honor to Arcane and glory to the empire.
He laughed to himself... Tindle brings glory?
He hated this place...
The dogs of the federation are drooling on the very gates of this kingdom...Not long until the very gold of our gates and women are dimmed with the very frost of their fetid breath. Here now we must stand against this assault , Vlaandarans , fellow Daimons ... United against vast hordes of these uncivilized godless sons of whores. May each one of us stand before the gates of Reeds and hold within our teeth the very names of all who fell before us... For if ,or when we are gone their names will at least echo throughout these lands long after we ourselves are ground out on the hooves and boots of our enemies. The names of our fallen will harry them like ghosts in the night and make for a frosted crop harvested on these lands forever more...
aye, bitter be the fruits of this land if it shall fall...
We must now , draw our swords , hold them high into the heavens and dip them into the very soil of the moon, and with one fell swoop drag the very skies down upon their heads...
Are we not ready to fight? For if not where shall we go now?
Several days before...
Gathled lunged forward into the battle , the mass of soldiers at his back roared like thunder into the plains of Watto.
There Gathled saw , lord Arcane ... His form had changed , or was it merely Gathled's mind playing tricks on him , Arcane was larger than before, Arcane swung into the crowd of oncoming Heenites and flung them ever wich way in a jumble of falling bodies. Heartened Gathled fought harder, and hacked deeper into the foray... He reached a point where all around him bodies and piles of weapons did lay about in stacks , he fought until he saw none of his own banners in the melee, nor his own men, yet he fought on...
Then, as if by strike of lightening he did feel great pain in his shoulder, and there lay an arrow, he chopped it in half with one fell swoop of his blade and continued fighting , but now another arrow had lodged itself into his leg , and then another into his chest... grazing his heart...
He fell to the ground and light did flicker in his eyes, he saw his men gathered around him in slow motion beating back the Heenite men, and then felt himself being dragged backwards across blood slicked grass and over the hills of the dead...
And there did he fade into blackness...
Naraka... Edge of the Heen empire... the wasteland...
Gathled stood and watched the grand and empty desert of dunes rise before him , he stood on the mere edge of the waste that stretched deep into the savage Heen empire, he had been here before , he had fought here , he would do so again. The contrast between Naraka was stark and defined , yet here there was no rain... none , for ages this land had sat empty , dry... dead and waiting for conquest and to be tamed...
Gathled prepared his equipment, loaded a feisty camel with water and and then his own riding camel with his weapons and gear , he wore now the long flowing robes of the desert nomads, he had left his platemail and bear cloak in the rearguard camp. Around his head he wrapped a black piece of cloth that covered his face from the sand, sun and dry coarse wind. He would dress like a Heenite, he would become one with the desert.
He waited , for Nymatal and Shintuk to arrive, he was sure that they would be close. He knew not why , but he was eager to be outside in the endless horizon of sand , the ocean of glass.
A dust storm rose on the wind and Gathled turned to go back to his tent... The howling wind made sounds , like voices , he heard them carried on the wind ... An Echo , as if the very ground beneath him was the boiling lid of hell.
2054
Roleplaying / Re: History from the time of the Daimon Arcane
« on: March 24, 2011, 01:23:35 PM »
Part II
Gathled was hunched over the table in the main hall of the Tindle Commune of "Arcania Majestus" . The hall had been sacked , litter strewn about, Gathleds old papers and knick knacks broken and thrown about. It had not been a long time since he last sat within these walls , but it seemed ages.
Gathled was searching and studying a map rolled out across the table and weighted with candles on its corners, the map had lines scratched into it and notes, kingdom names obliterated by red ink and land once ruled by men now liberated by the Daimon hordes... There in the middle of his map sat Vlaandaran, the kingdom of Arcane...
Gathled traced his finger along the lines of borders and he wondered how so many kingdoms could be so foolish and sacrifice so many of their peoples , when it was obvious, for even though Vlaandaran itself had problems , it was still flourishing , expanding and growing in power... Its people free and their lord benevolent.
Gathled wondered to himself , he lit his pipe and sat back in his wooden chair , where was this all going? How long would this continue? How long would the loose and weakened kingdoms beyond Vlaandaran hold out , how long would they delude themselves into believing they could stop , Arcane...
The rain of Tindle poured down and battered the roof of the hall, it hadnt stopped raining here... Or maybe it only rained here when Gathled was in Tindle? He knew not the answer. He collected the map together and bound it, blew out the candles and walked to the hall doors, of all the places in this glorious empire , he felt that his land was the farthest from the center, surrounded on all sides by hostile forces... So much work to be done, for a bunch of farmers and peasants this land of Tindle had been quite a problem. The people were uneducated, for them empire and cities meant nothing , for them the endless fields of the grass and soil, the endless toil in this miserable backwater, was enough for them. Gathled yearned to be in Reeds, anywhere but here... He hoped that soon, the land would be tamed and that he would once again be able to venture out into the world beyond Tindle.
His eyes gazed upwards into the pouring rain and before him stretched gargantuan and strange , the vast statue of Arcane , the peasantry had made several days before, the ramshackle tin and wood , metal scraps and stone of the statue , idol like, a reminder now to the peasants that Arcane would not leave them, that no matter what they thought, now and forever the great Arcane would look over them...
Gathled watched the statue , and for a brief moment the statue seemed to even watch him...
A great line of chain , rope and a long line of mud covered and wet peasants pulled stone across the fields of Tindle in a light rain. Gathled stood in the grass , his sword drawn , the blade resting in the damp soil, his hand on the pommel. Around him stood various ranked members of the work crews , men in grass weaved tunics , conical hats to keep off the constant downpour.
"its a wonder anything grows here" Gathled thought to himself . What did grow there was a hardy strain of wild grass. Almost like a rice. It required constant toil and was probably the main reason why Tindle was the way it was. Backwards and forgotten, a highway of the nations . Armies didn't usually stop long in Tindle. They passed through took what they could and then off again. Gathled followed the long line of heaving peasants. Pathetic lot , now gathered into communes, the people here were finally starting to produce. Many had died in the forced migration... It could not be helped... Progress always came at a price.
And now even Arcane himself was here. And it was thought by Gathled that maybe Arcane could see more of this place than he or anyone. The Daimons , now were in the main commune of " Majestus Arcanus " . Resting... No, Gathled retracted the thought, they didn't rest... They didn't even sleep. They looked as though they were men, Gathled was sure that it wasn't really what they looked like... Men , humans... peasants had said that they looked however you wanted them to look... Some people saw Demons, gnarled grotesque creations of hell, others saw light and flowing angel type things... Gathled saw armored men, they looked no more or less than anyone else, their skin was different , lighter, pale? Maybe one saw what was really a reflection of their own hearts? Gathled had wondered... He had not seen any evil, nothing harsh... The Daimons never even touched another person as far as he had seen. The only evil he had seen in his short time on this earth, in this life... Was the ever present battles and slaughters of mortal man , against man...against nature... The Daimons possibly had come to remind mankind that there were larger worlds out there... There are places like hell and then there is Tindle , I am sure that even the Daimons find this place to be intolerable...
The stone was set in the center of the town once it arrived. Gathled ordered the peasants to stop working. He told them to gather around. Taking a piece of charcoal from a dead and smoking pit fire, he drew a symbol on the rock... After he took the charcoal and drew the same symbol on his own face. The peasants were murmuring to themselves . What was this man doing? Inorder to maintain order, inorder to create a feeling of unity, Gathled would have to create myths , to create ritual for these people, these godless , superstitious wretches... His actions meant no meaning to himself, but for the peasants, once they took the piece of charcoal from Gathleds hand and drew the symbol on their own faces, they understood ... That now they were not forgotten by time and eternity, that now they were not alone in the vast plains of Tindle . Now they were tied to a grand empire and a new age.
Daimons stood in the village center, Gathled had not seen them arrive, but they were there now and then as everyone looked they vanished , instantly ... A groan of fear went through the crowd and they fell to their knees , they fell and stuck their faces in the earth. Everyone had a feeling as if they had done something that cannot ever be reversed , tattooed, marked... Branded...Scarred .
The peasants began to wail... They threw their hands up and called out "Why have they left us?" "What have we done to offend?"
The rain stopped... It was like a fire being blown out, one swift wind and the rain could be seen racing away from the town center, a wall of water... and then the clouds rolled out just as quickly, there was a flash across the sky, a blinding white or yellow light , everyone shielded their faces, but even with eyes closed the light went right through... It was the sun...
Gathled stood by the stone, it was a miracle...For the first time in ages the rains in Tindle had vanished.
Gathled was hunched over the table in the main hall of the Tindle Commune of "Arcania Majestus" . The hall had been sacked , litter strewn about, Gathleds old papers and knick knacks broken and thrown about. It had not been a long time since he last sat within these walls , but it seemed ages.
Gathled was searching and studying a map rolled out across the table and weighted with candles on its corners, the map had lines scratched into it and notes, kingdom names obliterated by red ink and land once ruled by men now liberated by the Daimon hordes... There in the middle of his map sat Vlaandaran, the kingdom of Arcane...
Gathled traced his finger along the lines of borders and he wondered how so many kingdoms could be so foolish and sacrifice so many of their peoples , when it was obvious, for even though Vlaandaran itself had problems , it was still flourishing , expanding and growing in power... Its people free and their lord benevolent.
Gathled wondered to himself , he lit his pipe and sat back in his wooden chair , where was this all going? How long would this continue? How long would the loose and weakened kingdoms beyond Vlaandaran hold out , how long would they delude themselves into believing they could stop , Arcane...
The rain of Tindle poured down and battered the roof of the hall, it hadnt stopped raining here... Or maybe it only rained here when Gathled was in Tindle? He knew not the answer. He collected the map together and bound it, blew out the candles and walked to the hall doors, of all the places in this glorious empire , he felt that his land was the farthest from the center, surrounded on all sides by hostile forces... So much work to be done, for a bunch of farmers and peasants this land of Tindle had been quite a problem. The people were uneducated, for them empire and cities meant nothing , for them the endless fields of the grass and soil, the endless toil in this miserable backwater, was enough for them. Gathled yearned to be in Reeds, anywhere but here... He hoped that soon, the land would be tamed and that he would once again be able to venture out into the world beyond Tindle.
His eyes gazed upwards into the pouring rain and before him stretched gargantuan and strange , the vast statue of Arcane , the peasantry had made several days before, the ramshackle tin and wood , metal scraps and stone of the statue , idol like, a reminder now to the peasants that Arcane would not leave them, that no matter what they thought, now and forever the great Arcane would look over them...
Gathled watched the statue , and for a brief moment the statue seemed to even watch him...
A great line of chain , rope and a long line of mud covered and wet peasants pulled stone across the fields of Tindle in a light rain. Gathled stood in the grass , his sword drawn , the blade resting in the damp soil, his hand on the pommel. Around him stood various ranked members of the work crews , men in grass weaved tunics , conical hats to keep off the constant downpour.
"its a wonder anything grows here" Gathled thought to himself . What did grow there was a hardy strain of wild grass. Almost like a rice. It required constant toil and was probably the main reason why Tindle was the way it was. Backwards and forgotten, a highway of the nations . Armies didn't usually stop long in Tindle. They passed through took what they could and then off again. Gathled followed the long line of heaving peasants. Pathetic lot , now gathered into communes, the people here were finally starting to produce. Many had died in the forced migration... It could not be helped... Progress always came at a price.
And now even Arcane himself was here. And it was thought by Gathled that maybe Arcane could see more of this place than he or anyone. The Daimons , now were in the main commune of " Majestus Arcanus " . Resting... No, Gathled retracted the thought, they didn't rest... They didn't even sleep. They looked as though they were men, Gathled was sure that it wasn't really what they looked like... Men , humans... peasants had said that they looked however you wanted them to look... Some people saw Demons, gnarled grotesque creations of hell, others saw light and flowing angel type things... Gathled saw armored men, they looked no more or less than anyone else, their skin was different , lighter, pale? Maybe one saw what was really a reflection of their own hearts? Gathled had wondered... He had not seen any evil, nothing harsh... The Daimons never even touched another person as far as he had seen. The only evil he had seen in his short time on this earth, in this life... Was the ever present battles and slaughters of mortal man , against man...against nature... The Daimons possibly had come to remind mankind that there were larger worlds out there... There are places like hell and then there is Tindle , I am sure that even the Daimons find this place to be intolerable...
The stone was set in the center of the town once it arrived. Gathled ordered the peasants to stop working. He told them to gather around. Taking a piece of charcoal from a dead and smoking pit fire, he drew a symbol on the rock... After he took the charcoal and drew the same symbol on his own face. The peasants were murmuring to themselves . What was this man doing? Inorder to maintain order, inorder to create a feeling of unity, Gathled would have to create myths , to create ritual for these people, these godless , superstitious wretches... His actions meant no meaning to himself, but for the peasants, once they took the piece of charcoal from Gathleds hand and drew the symbol on their own faces, they understood ... That now they were not forgotten by time and eternity, that now they were not alone in the vast plains of Tindle . Now they were tied to a grand empire and a new age.
Daimons stood in the village center, Gathled had not seen them arrive, but they were there now and then as everyone looked they vanished , instantly ... A groan of fear went through the crowd and they fell to their knees , they fell and stuck their faces in the earth. Everyone had a feeling as if they had done something that cannot ever be reversed , tattooed, marked... Branded...Scarred .
The peasants began to wail... They threw their hands up and called out "Why have they left us?" "What have we done to offend?"
The rain stopped... It was like a fire being blown out, one swift wind and the rain could be seen racing away from the town center, a wall of water... and then the clouds rolled out just as quickly, there was a flash across the sky, a blinding white or yellow light , everyone shielded their faces, but even with eyes closed the light went right through... It was the sun...
Gathled stood by the stone, it was a miracle...For the first time in ages the rains in Tindle had vanished.
2055
Roleplaying / History from the time of the Daimon Arcane
« on: March 24, 2011, 01:22:31 PM »
This is some history from Vlaandaran during the reign of Arcane from the perspective of Gathled(later Balgathled of Mesh) if anyone is interested I am adding this for posterity since its a wall of text and don't want to lose it. Feel free to respond
Gathled paced the empty hall and looked about the room, It had been so long , it felt as if he had been in Tindle forever...
Gathled's eyes opened , he was sitting in a field on the periphery of a small village. Light drizzle rain came from the sky and fog mist coated everything around him. Gathled was confused , for so long his mind had been blank, the last few days , or was it weeks? months? they were a blank... He looked at his clothing and it was tattered , no one was around him, no troop nor guard stood at attention. His hands were dirty and he felt lost and disoriented.
He stood and heard sounds of drinking and hilarity coming from the small village. A short walk on unsteady feet found him at what seemed to be a small hall, inside could be heard hilarious laughter. He walked to the windows and peered in. The hall was brightly lit and around the tables sat his men, they were drunk and had procured the villagers from all around to dress in costumes and serve drinks. and instead of chairs they sat on the carcasses of dead horses, near the center of the room a soldier was riding an old man around on his back and whipping him and laughing. Gathled pushed open the drinking hall doors and entered the brightly lit circus scene.
The candles flickered briefly as the wind pushed across the room, for a moment all was still inside the room , as if a ripple had passed across the facade of reality and for a brief moment showed a waking dream...
His men noticed him enter the room...
"aye, Cap'n fancy anuher drunk will ye?" a toothy unshaved man in rusted platemail yelled from across the room, he raised his mug and slammed it on the table.
"Where are we?" Gathled slowly said to no one in particular.
"Tindle sire" a soldier said raising his drunken head from the table briefly " where weh always are..."
"What is going on in here...or anywhere?"
"What ye ordered sir, revelry an drunk'n shennanigans" the man riding the old man like a horse yelled out as he guffawed .
Gathled was confused , he had no memory of this... No memory of anything like this.
"How long have we been here?" he said , panic began to spread through his body.
"Forever milord..."
The room shimmered and the fire in the room flickered and then died before everyones eyes, the room was dark, there wasn't any movement. Gathled pushed a mug off a table and it rolled and broke on the floor, the ceramic sound of shards echoed across the room.
There was no one in the room, the room had shadows in it that moved swiftly across the walls, he saw a horse flying around the back of the room, as if caught in a draft, it twirled like a one winged butterfly in the darkness...
"Who..o..o.oo. is there... " Gathled said into the darkness.
" It... is... I" a voice came from the twirling horse carcass , Gathled stumbled backwards towards the door, he found the latch and pushed it outward , the fear in his body was like electricity, he felt like something was strangling him... He lunged out into the drizzle and rain and stumbled over a soft body of a woman in the grass, his hands pushed into the soft soil , he stumbled across clothing and garbage and piles of bodies... around him so many dead... the stench.
Near the well stood a massive collection of black clad cloaked figures, their armor shimmered in the light...
"What are you??!" Gathled sputtered out and groped at their cloaks.
"We... are ... you" They said in unison, he saw their faces , under the beards and tattooed faces, they were his men, they were covered in blood. the village around them made the sound of a groan as air passed through the empty structures.
"Why has this , how?" He said eyes rolling wildly.
"Orders sir...Your orders" They said , their voices slowly trailing off into the night...
Gathled paced the empty hall and looked about the room, It had been so long , it felt as if he had been in Tindle forever...
Gathled's eyes opened , he was sitting in a field on the periphery of a small village. Light drizzle rain came from the sky and fog mist coated everything around him. Gathled was confused , for so long his mind had been blank, the last few days , or was it weeks? months? they were a blank... He looked at his clothing and it was tattered , no one was around him, no troop nor guard stood at attention. His hands were dirty and he felt lost and disoriented.
He stood and heard sounds of drinking and hilarity coming from the small village. A short walk on unsteady feet found him at what seemed to be a small hall, inside could be heard hilarious laughter. He walked to the windows and peered in. The hall was brightly lit and around the tables sat his men, they were drunk and had procured the villagers from all around to dress in costumes and serve drinks. and instead of chairs they sat on the carcasses of dead horses, near the center of the room a soldier was riding an old man around on his back and whipping him and laughing. Gathled pushed open the drinking hall doors and entered the brightly lit circus scene.
The candles flickered briefly as the wind pushed across the room, for a moment all was still inside the room , as if a ripple had passed across the facade of reality and for a brief moment showed a waking dream...
His men noticed him enter the room...
"aye, Cap'n fancy anuher drunk will ye?" a toothy unshaved man in rusted platemail yelled from across the room, he raised his mug and slammed it on the table.
"Where are we?" Gathled slowly said to no one in particular.
"Tindle sire" a soldier said raising his drunken head from the table briefly " where weh always are..."
"What is going on in here...or anywhere?"
"What ye ordered sir, revelry an drunk'n shennanigans" the man riding the old man like a horse yelled out as he guffawed .
Gathled was confused , he had no memory of this... No memory of anything like this.
"How long have we been here?" he said , panic began to spread through his body.
"Forever milord..."
The room shimmered and the fire in the room flickered and then died before everyones eyes, the room was dark, there wasn't any movement. Gathled pushed a mug off a table and it rolled and broke on the floor, the ceramic sound of shards echoed across the room.
There was no one in the room, the room had shadows in it that moved swiftly across the walls, he saw a horse flying around the back of the room, as if caught in a draft, it twirled like a one winged butterfly in the darkness...
"Who..o..o.oo. is there... " Gathled said into the darkness.
" It... is... I" a voice came from the twirling horse carcass , Gathled stumbled backwards towards the door, he found the latch and pushed it outward , the fear in his body was like electricity, he felt like something was strangling him... He lunged out into the drizzle and rain and stumbled over a soft body of a woman in the grass, his hands pushed into the soft soil , he stumbled across clothing and garbage and piles of bodies... around him so many dead... the stench.
Near the well stood a massive collection of black clad cloaked figures, their armor shimmered in the light...
"What are you??!" Gathled sputtered out and groped at their cloaks.
"We... are ... you" They said in unison, he saw their faces , under the beards and tattooed faces, they were his men, they were covered in blood. the village around them made the sound of a groan as air passed through the empty structures.
"Why has this , how?" He said eyes rolling wildly.
"Orders sir...Your orders" They said , their voices slowly trailing off into the night...