Author Topic: History from the time of the Daimon Arcane  (Read 2880 times)

Glaumring the Fox

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History from the time of the Daimon Arcane
« Topic Start: 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...
« Last Edit: March 24, 2011, 01:28:55 PM by Glaumring »
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Glaumring the Fox

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Re: History from the time of the Daimon Arcane
« Reply #1: 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.
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Glaumring the Fox

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Re: History from the time of the Daimon Arcane
« Reply #2: 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.
« Last Edit: March 24, 2011, 01:40:50 PM by Glaumring »
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Re: History from the time of the Daimon Arcane
« Reply #3: 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.
"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...
« Last Edit: March 24, 2011, 01:45:36 PM by Glaumring »
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Glaumring the Fox

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Re: History from the time of the Daimon Arcane
« Reply #4: 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!!!
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...
« Last Edit: March 24, 2011, 01:52:17 PM by Glaumring »
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Re: History from the time of the Daimon Arcane
« Reply #5: 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..."
We live lives in beautiful lies...

Glaumring the Fox

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Re: History from the time of the Daimon Arcane
« Reply #6: 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.
We live lives in beautiful lies...

Glaumring the Fox

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Re: History from the time of the Daimon Arcane
« Reply #7: 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.


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, [email protected]#$... 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...

We live lives in beautiful lies...