Author Topic: The Laments of the Old Toren  (Read 2205 times)

BarticaBoat

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The Laments of the Old Toren
« Topic Start: April 08, 2013, 11:45:30 PM »
Marching back to Eidulb, Karibash is in a foul mood having missed most the battles.  Following the River Chrystal back east, he can't help but take in the beauty of this land. It is but a small pleasure regarding this whole situation. His passions have grown more fierce ever since donning his armour and marching to war. He can't remember the last time he truly marched out to war; perhaps fighting the Saxons? His loyal steward Edward riding at his side, the Old Toren speaks.

"Edward, when was I made Duke of the Shrine?"

The steward screws his face for a moment in thought. "Why... I can't remember to be honest. I believe it was during the long winter... 19 YD? That is over 3 years ago now."

Karibash ponders. "And when did I bring Aquitain to Astrum? When was it made King of Everguard? Sing my saga."

Edward laughs. "The Great Saxon War ended roughly the winter of 16 YD, when Golden Farrow was conquered. Your last great battle was fought in the Siege of Valkyrja... that was the spring of 14 YD. Aquitain, and by extension the Kingdom of Everguard was made a vassal of the Vasilif of Astrum in the winter of 7 YD... dark days those were. You had just recently been made General of Averoth too, but the King was overthrown in rebellion and you left. You were crowned King of Everguard in the winter of 6 YD, doomed to be her last. A dark ceremony that was, Gelene had just revolted and the Kingdom was in shambles. You did all you could to save us."

Karibash is silent, remembering the past. Edward speaks once more, "The Kingdom of Niselur was founded on the same day, and Virovene fell. Ancient history to modern scholars... but you were an old man even then and I was past my prime!" Edward smirks, hoping to humour his liege. He continues, slightly more sombre "You were made Marquis of Aquitain on a midsummer's eve in 6 YD, unaware of what would happen in the coming months. Early spring in 4 YD you were made the High Adjudicator of Everguard, sworn to defend the laws of the High King. Early in the spring of 1 YD you were one of the 17 original founders of Everguard, having marched into the blackness of the unknown looking for a new life, having landed in Dwilight the previous winter." Edward stops, having exhausted the dates.

They ride for a short while, in silence. The normally rowdy Toren Berserkers have also grown quiet. Karibash finally speaks. "Before then. Sing the saga!"

Edward clears his throat, "We last saw the beautiful walls of the Toren Stronghold in what would have been Autumn in 1 YD. Your brother Xanio died in Autumn, year 1 before Dwilight. You started your career in Toren late winter 6 BD, and you were born... I guess it would be the summer of 19 BD?"

Karibash is silent.

The long winter of 19 YD, made Duke of the Dark Mountains.

He cautiously accepts the title in a formal ceremony, his good friend Duke Kihalin having disappeared. He was given tasks to complete in memory of his friend, he will not fail.

Spring of 14 YD

Goading the Saxons into combat, he fights alongside his newfound brothers tearing down the walls he help build. How curious the world is.

Winter of 7 YD

Greeted by a herald of the Vasilif Ysgarren, he formally acknowledges the surrender of Everguard, as long as the crown is preserved in servitude to the Vasilif. The terms had been negotiated with Vasilia Alexandria, and he shall be forever known as the Last King of Everguard. He finally accepts that Tor has died, and forsaken His chosen people.

Winter of 6 YD

In a small and grim ceremony, he is crowned the High King of Everguard. The Emerald Throne and most regalia has been lost in Gelene, only the fabled crown remains. The High Queen Averyll had been captured by Astrum in battle. Karibash regrets it was not himself.

Summer of 6 YD

His old friend Averyll, as strained as their relationship has been, gladly offers him the Marquis of Aquitain. The night is cool and the wind blows off the Dark Mountains, the untamed west beckoning the rule of Everguard.

Spring of 4 YD

High Queen Averyll has entrusted Karibash as High Adjudicator, to quell the natives of the Kingdom under the rule of the High Queen and the supremacy of Everguard.

Spring of 1 YD

He finally emerges from the wilderness of monsters to see the great Spire of Valkyrja. He meets with Fisc Arylon, who greets him warmly. The promised land for Tor's children, they dream of a time when they shall raise the banners of Everguard from coast to coast of this undiscovered land.

Before

The unmitigated wars of the South-East. Men killed, friends and foes alike. He is a war hero, reknowned for breaking enemy lines so his allies may pour in. Respected and feared. A young man, dreaming of war. A young boy, hiding from Sandalakian warriors in his village.

Karibash chokes. His eyes roll in his head, gasps for air breaking the silence. His men cry out, looking for the assassin. Edward dives from his horse to protect his Lord. Dropping his shield, Karibash slumps forward and rolls off his horse. Pulling off his helm, healers rush forward. The Old Toren's mouth is open still gasping. Sweat rolls over his brow. Suddenly his eyes shoot open, wild and furious. He grabs Edward by the collar, pulls him in and hisses something in a very old dialect of Toren. He throws Edward away before passing out once more. Captain Oldric rushes over to Edward.

"My man, what did he say!?"

Edward is shaking. He murmurs in Captain Oldric's ear. Captain Oldric looks to the Old Toren in shock. Removing his helm, he calls out to the other Berserkers. With a low rumble, they begin the chant of the Toren Death March.

Arrakis

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Re: The Laments of the Old Toren
« Reply #1: April 09, 2013, 12:03:06 AM »
This is pretty great.
Gregorian (Eponllyn), Baudouin (Cathay), Thaddeus (Cathay), Leopold (Niselur)

Ender

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Re: The Laments of the Old Toren
« Reply #2: April 10, 2013, 09:04:43 PM »
I don't know what most of these events are, but this really is fantastic.

Very well written.

BarticaBoat

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Re: The Laments of the Old Toren
« Reply #3: April 11, 2013, 05:36:33 AM »
Thanks guys, I'm hoping this opens up Karibash somewhat.

Letter from Karibash ka Habb   
Message sent to everyone in your realm
Noble Lords,

Karibash, Duke of the Dark Mountains, Margrave of the Shrine of Seeklander, Thane of the Dark Shrine, Marshal of the Twilight Wardens, Marquis of Aquitain, Sovereign of the County of Forguthrie and all its Holdings, Vassal of the Vasilif of Astrum, Last King of Everguard has been stricken with a most peculiar malady and at this time flickers between life and death. Even now his countrymen have begun the chanting of the Toren Death March and bards are setting his saga to song. While we know that such a great warrior will be able to pull through this illness, the impossible must be considered.

Humbly,
Edward, Steward of the Last King of Everguard

Karibash ka Habb
Duke of the Dark Mountains
Margrave of Shrine of Seeklander
Marshal of Twilight Wardens

*

Adrian grimaced as he read the messege from The old Duke's scribe. His wound pained him, but he waved the healer away. Many of his men were sick and injured, but they were treated the best they would be for some time. The Old Toren was ornery, forgetful, and sometimes incoherent, but Astrum knew no better warror than the old man.

"Guran, send a messege ahead to the healers guild. We will be requiring additional healers to see to the health of Duke Karibash. Aquitain will see to the health of their former master"

"Yes my lord. How many shall I request they send?"

"Why, all of them of course. Send my physician as well."

"My lord? You are not yet healed"

Adrian shifted and grunted "A fact I am acutely aware, Guran, do it anyway"

"Yes my lord."

Adrian thought for a moment. "Just in case, send customary Toren funeral gifts as well"

"Yes sir... and those are?" Guran looked confused.

Adrian sighed, his family had long been in Duil, and Lord of Aquitain for years, He knew more about Toren and Everguard than most. But even his knowledge was far from complete.
"Livestock for slaughter and alcohol to drink of course"

"Yes sir."

*

"How could Karibash ever fall ill, he seems chisled from stone..."  Melania mused and fretted as she rode in her Faithful's column.  Her dear friend's health weighed heavily on her mind and no smile passed her lips.  Her men and women quickly learned to speak rarely and softly while she brooded.

*

Rounding a bend in the River Chrystal the estate of Walef comes into view. The journey from Shuberstone has been grim and the sight of the long procession has caused some panic amongst peasants. The chant has not ended, though the men have taken turns reciting it. On occasion they will all muster the will to chant at once; those times are the most eerie as their chant carries out over the meadows. At the front of the procession lies the Old Toren in a cart, surrounded by numerous healers and even the personal physician of Lord Adrian, Margrave of Aquitain. Sweat pours over his brow, the worries of the world seemingly on his mind. His breaths are shallow and laboured. At times his breathing slows and appears to stop for many moments. A few times the chant has stopped for fear the Old Toren has finally returned to the stone. At other times he breathes raspy and deep, gasping for life. Most fearful are the times when he awakens. His eyes are wild and bewildered and he stammers in an old Toren dialect that only his loyal steward Edward and his faithful Captain Oldric can understand. They refuse to reveal what he is talking about.

The healers are not certain what has beset the old Duke. His fever should have killed him long ago but his humours appear balanced. Their priest of the Stars has revealed that the Bloodstars are all dark, but that Austere is currently superior. He is unsure what effect on the blood this may have. All the healers can do is offer different poultices to try and keep the Old Toren in this world.

Karibash's eyes shoot open. His gaze is not with us, his eyes are glassy. He coughs and grows silent. His men grow silent.

Silence.

Oldric's lip trembles, fearful for being witness of the impossible.

Silence. Not even the chirps of crickets.

Silence. They stop walking.

Edward walks up to his Lord and places a hand on his cheek.

.

A low growl. The Old Toren's eyes flicker a moment. He snarls in old Toren, breathing lightly. Edward smirks and walks away. A healer rushes to him, "What did he say!?"

Edward shakes his head. "It was a child's rhyme, a taunt during games... War's children is like granite, you will never break me."

Oldric rumbles out the chant once more, the rest of the berserkers follow. Eidulb is still 27 hours away.

BarticaBoat

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Re: The Laments of the Old Toren
« Reply #4: April 13, 2013, 06:46:24 AM »
The procession has travelled far but the men still tirelessly chant the Death March. Their Lord's health has changed in those days; from the early hours when he appeared catatonic and near death to the times he spent delirious or sleeping to now. Now he is increasingly unsettled. He no longer lies very still hardly breathing. He groans and stirs as if in pain. He sits up and bellows at invisible foes. He lies wide eyed but seeing nothing, mumbling in Toren. His healers fear he has descended into madness. His men fear that he is possessed by spirits. Edward and Oldric do not discuss his mumblings.

Try as they may his healers cannot find anything physically wrong. His humours appear balanced. What caused him to fall so violently ill so suddenly eludes them. They have contacted various priests of Sanguis Astroism, even going so far as to contact the noble body of the Church. The replies have not been constructive if they have arrived at all. The Austere and Auspicious are dark, Maddening bright, and Austere superior.

Oldric muses, "Well... I'm no expert on these bloody Stars, but Auspicious is meticulous planning and being a pansy... she's dark so none of that eh? Maddening is raw emotion and power and action... and is bright but wasn't when the Old Duke fell ill. Perhaps, as the star intensifies he's unable to resist and that is why he is increasingly mad? Now Austere is something about the moment between action and balance and all that... she's dark but superior." Oldric scratches his head. "I guess... now is the not the time to wait?" He looks over at Edward who shrugs dismissively.

Oldric walks over to Karibash. The old man is lying in the cart, hands clasped tightly, eyes wide, mumbling in Toren. Karibash pauses, appearing pensive, before continuing to babble. Oldric shakes his head and turns to walk away until Karibash's steely grip has him by the shirt. Turning back he is alarmed to see the Old Toren sitting up and smiling before breaking out into a Toren song:

In the mountains we call home,
There lies a people strong and old.


Karibash looks back at his men beckoning they join him.

Built on steel and broken bone,
We sit upon our granite throne.

War our life and chaos our soul,
We crush the weak and take their gold.

Our god is dead we've lost our home,
Far o'er the salty seas we roam

The Stars above they brighten our path,
But in our heart still lies the wrath.

Our will ne'er breaks so long 's we breathe,
Our friends will die but we shan't grieve

Broken steel and broken bone,
We all return to the granite throne.


Oldric grabs Karibash's shoulder. "Feeling better are we?" But Karibash is still grinning most peculiarly. Oldric steps back. Karibash's face suddenly shifts to a solemn grimace. Hushed Toren escapes his lips. Karibash's grimace transforms into fear and he has fallen back into the cart wide eyed but no longer speaking. The moments are tense. The men are growing rowdy, fearful of a lich or other spirit. Then with a great howl Karibash begins to wail, shuddering violently. The healers move to offer what little aid they can but Karibash swings at them, shoving them away. The clouds move and the single Maddening star shines brightly, even brighter than the moon. Karibash climbs out of the cart and begins staggering down the road. Tearing off his armour and throwing it away he calls out in Toren to the sky. Stripping down to his underclothes, he pulls out his wineskin and pours it into the dirt. He takes this mud and smears it on his face: two vertical lines on his forehead, diamonds around his eyes, and from the inner and outer corners two lines his cheeks onto his neck. He kneels in the road looking up at the single star. The healers move towards him cautiously, he brushes them back.

"Edward."

His loyal steward rushes forward, "Milord?"

"Where am I supposed to be right now."

Edward is aghast a moment. He shakes his head, "Eidulb, milord."

Karibash stands and dusts off his knees. Looking back at his men who have now crowded around, he bellows "You heard my man! To Eidulb! And stop the damned chant I'm not dying for a very long time."

Karibash walks back towards his horse and outstretches his arms so that his squires may replace his armour. His face stoic, the war paint drying, Maddening shining above.