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Post by Warhammer Gorvar on Dec 23, 2012 23:11:35 GMT 1
There are many stories of heroes and villains. Stories of action, romance, betrayal, loyalty and legend. This is one of those stories, so if you don't like it... well, piss off then. This is the tale of the Fellowship of the Blue Lady. As always it's a band of men, elves, dwarves – and one lizard man. We don't like to talk about him. Their banner was a blue woman sitting alluringly. When asked why they picked said symbol, mostly they just shrugged and replied that it looked cool. Others said it looked hot. It's a tad confusing that way. They had many adventures, but this one is probably one of the more interesting. It starts simple enough: a quest for gold and riches that turns into something more, something legendary. Something that makes you want to read this pile of hogwash. So let's get started shall we?
HISTORY
The fellowship first came together a few years ago, under the star constellation of the Blue Lady. A group of rather eccentric and colourful characters, they always manage to get the job done and are well known for their deeds. Their jobs have included slaying dragons (sort of a baptism by fire... get it? I said bap-AW! Okay fine, jeez!), defending towns from invading orcs, saving princesses from witch queens and throwing jewellery down volcanoes. However, this adventure might be too big for the group, and some of them might not come back out of it alive... and the fellowship does not allow Zombies in their group. They smell.
PARTY
Lillian Black- Lily Class: Healer/Cleric Race: Human Bio: Lillian Black is a gifted healer, but is very quirky and sometimes takes a maternal role in the fellowship. She can mend broken bones and settle disputes easily, but can also squeal loudly and stare at a kitten for hours unless moved. She and Lind are married. She is the Yin to his Yang.
Lind- JKLinders Class: Ranger Race: Human Bio: Lind is a skilled adventurer and no stranger to ancient evil tombs or frozen wastelands inhabited by man-eating seals. He is married to Lilian, being the Yang to her Yin. Lind is also a master chef in any cuisine known to man... or humanoids in general. Except goblins because fook those guys.
Halmadir Buhan Everbloom aka "Buch"- Buch Class: War Mage Race: Half Elf Bio: A poet, a storyteller, a singer of songs and a man who can preach about philosophy and other matters of the mind, before drawing his staff and sword and going medieval on goblin arses. He and Gorvar seem to share a common tie to a bards' guild and frequently confuse the other party members when they burst into song. He appeared in the lives of the other members of the fellowship before they came together officially and is somewhat the leader of the group, or at least manages to rally them together and point them in a random direction with treasure at the end. He does not get along with Iron though.
Iron- Meironmaiden Class: Fighter Race: Dwarf Bio: A tough-as-nails soldier from the dwarven kingdoms and a veteran of diverse near-suicidal underground wars fought against drow, goblins, spiders and evil knights with silly battle cries. He has a hobby of collecting weaponry of every culture and using them in combat. He does not talk of his past often (save for war stories) nor does he explain why he left for the surface. The only thing he is known for is his artfulness in armed combat. His art is death, and he will paint his masterpiece. He does not get along with Buch.
Gorvar- Gorvar Class: Bard Race: Lizardman Bio: A creature from a far away land who sticks out like a sore thumb. A sarcastic bastard with a slippery tongue who manages to get his way every time, be it passing guards, seducing women or haggling down prices. He and Buch seem to share a common tie to a certain bards' guild unknown to the other party members. He has an unrequited love for Tillian.
Tillian Oakenshade- Tillian Class: Mage Race: Elf Bio: An artist of great renown, being able to paint living portraits (due to magic). She is slightly emotionless due to her decennia of walking around being all elf-like (see if you're still a happy camper after that), but she is a reliable source of wisdom. She gets along with Buch due to their elven blood but is (seemingly) unaware of Gorvar's affections for her. She can predict the future due to her paintings but never tells anyone about it.
Ser Clint- Clint Class: Gunslinger Race: Human Bio: A man shrouded in mystery. Only known by his false name, Ser Clint is a knight who dropped the sword and reached for the newly-invented fire arms. He is one of the best marksmen alive, who follows the party for reasons only known to himself...
NPC's
King Calious the VIII- Cali Class: King Race: Human Bio: King of the Realm, righteous in rule, noble to his people, generous to his adventurers and in debt to his fifty-eight ex-wives who all decided to divorce him together. In need of coin, he asks the party to go find an ancient treasure which will make everyone rich(er) beyond their wildest dreams.
Ser Knight- Knightfall Class: Knight Race: ? Bio: A mysterious knight who guards the king. He has thwarted seventeen attempts on King Calious' life and survived countless injuries in many battles that would kill any other man. Rumoured to be an undead knight who swore fealty to Calious' great-grandfather over a hundred years ago and sworn to protect the royal bloodline... which is difficult with the many children, both legitimate and illegitimate, running around.
The Glowing Elf- Mr Glow Class: Mentor/Guide Race: Ancient (looks like an elf) Bio: A mysterious individual who follows the party's progress for reasons dark and sinister. Considered to be a great mage in service to Calious but serves another cause...
Anaise-Battlechantress Class: Cleric / Witch Race: Human Bio: A former midwife who turned to the dark side after having failed to save the life of the local war chief's wife. Although having a problem with mushrooms and mind-numbing drinks, she is one of the most skilled healers in the world and can cast nasty spells as a result. She also has a pack of large white hounds who serve as her bodyguards. She played an important part in Iron's past.
Captain Redbeard Class: Pirate Captain Race: Goblin Bio: A freed goblin slave who staged a coup on the slaver ship, instigated by Ser Clint, and fully embraced the pirate persona. Looks tough on the outside, but is really a bastard on the inside. Sort of. He likes cupcakes.
Nord Ronnoc and Hodster Class: Warriors (good guys) Race: Human and Lizardman Bio: An enigmatic duo known to either be very insane or very childish, probably both. Also known for fighting raptors: criminals AKA Bad Guys. Ronnoc aspires to become the next Magistrate of Cape Shit-out-of-luck.
Magistrate Towzerd Class: Aristocrat Race: Human Bio: The (rigged) elected Magistrate of Cape shit-out-of-luck, the only human colony on the dark continent of Aourigha. Apparently as corrupt and two-faced as a politician... which makes sense considering his profession, he seeks to make Shit-out-of-luck his own private city with its people as his playthings. The only person standing in his way is an axe wielding guardsmen gone insane.
Okay, we got everything you need? Characters, history, that stuff? Right, here we go then. It all began on a hot summer's eve, in the castle of King Calious, eighth of his name and protector of the kingdom of Varharim.....
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Post by Warhammer Gorvar on Dec 30, 2012 0:17:42 GMT 1
Chapter 1
The torches waved lazily in the wind as insects fluttered around them. The guards outside the gate stared toward the horizon as the sun began to set. One of them began eating an apple as the drums inside the keep began. One of the two squinted his eyes, peering.
“Hey Fred,” he asked the one who ate the apple. “Isn't that a knight running towards us?” Fred munched on his apple still, and gave a mere shrug as a reply. “And is it me or does he gave a sword in hand?” Fred gave another shrug as he kept munching. “You know, I think I can actually see a hint of murderous glee in his eyes.” Fred merely kept munching. Then out of nowhere, the mystery knight appeared with a “Ha-Haaa!” and stabbed Fred in the gut before he ran into the castle. “Hey...” The remaining guard moaned.
“And I'm telling you, you idiot of a dwarf, that giving weapons to everybody is a bad idea!” “I don't know what your father was thinking when he decided to bang an elf, but you sir are an idiot.” A half-elf in a grey robe with matching floppy hat and staff argued with a dwarf, armed and decked with all kinds of weapons and fearsome-looking armour. If you're facing a foe thrice your size, you'd better look as fearsome as possible. At least that was the dwarven way of thinking.
“The right to bear arms is a blessing. What if a goblin enters your house and you got nothing to defend yourself with?” the dwarf called Iron continued. “The goblins have been gone from your homeland for three hundred years. The only thing you use them for is to brag about the length of your axe to members of the opposite sex or to bash each other's brains in,” the half-elf called Halmadir Buhan Fitsgerald the Fourth Everbloom Esquire replied (AKA Buch for his friends). “How long have they been at it, this time?” a servant asked another. “Three hours. They've been tossing a lot of ideas across.” The other replied. “And?” “I don't think they hear each other half the time.” “Oh. Hey what's that so–”
The servant's question was cut short as he was cut down by a knight dressed in blue, mumbling madly. He slashed the other one down before he raised his sword to charge at the duo. He stopped as an axe became embedded in his torso and dropped down to the floor, dead. “See, what if we weren't armed? We would be dead!” Iron said with a smirk. “The man was clearly ill in the head, if he was never given a sword he wouldn't have gotten past the guards.” “Oh you are impossible!” the dwarf growled before he turned his head to the slain servants.” How much do you think they got paid?” “Don't know, but I think they must have a good dental plan. Look at their teeth.” “They are nice looking I got to admit. Shame about the sword through the eye socket though.” “That would ruin any man's day. Oh! Long sword,” Buch said as he picked up the sword from the dead, deranged knight. “Oi, you're a mage – you don't use swords!” “Screw you dwarfy, I specialize.” Buch replied.
A guard ran up the stairs, interrupted by hiccups. He moved slowly around the corpses. “The king – hic – wants to see you,” he said. “He sends – hic – his apologies about the – hic – delay.” The guard said. “What the hell was he doing anyway?” Iron growled. “We travelled miles to see him!” “His majesty was – hic – occupied with Lady Morganna.” “Oh.” Both nodded with understanding. “We understand.” “This way, mind the – hic – blood. Larry was always a – hic – bit of a bleeder,” the guard said as he led the duo down to the main hall.
They crossed corridors filled with many torches and tapestries. In hindsight of the great fire which killed half the royal family three years before, putting these two together was a rather silly idea. The king had promised he would get around to sorting that, but then again the king promised a lot of things. He even promised the narrator a pony, which I still haven't received. Why did we vote for him anyway? Oh wait we didn't! Apologies, back to the story. The duo made their way to the main corridor where they were greeted by sweet lute music, the sound of a warm and soft male voice and the scales, claws and cold blood that came with it. Buch smiled as he saw the lizardman bard stand up when their eyes met.
“Puppet brother junioooor!” the lizardman sang. “Puppet brother seniooor!” Buch replied in turn as he walked over. “Puppet brother junior!” the bard sang again and walked over as well. “Puppet brother senior!” Buch replied as both grabbed each other by the shoulder. “Puppet brothers!” Both laughed as the guard and Iron looked at each other with a confused stare and shrug. “Gorvar, you scaly bastard, where have you been?!” “Gone back home until I got the message from the king,” the lizardman replied. Aside from his lute, he was armed with a rapier and dressed in leather armour, tunic and trousers (with a hole for his tail of course). “I just got here. Had to pay a stupid amount of money to use the dwarven railroad. I told everyone that for the king to sell off his national railroads to private investors was a bad idea, but did anyone listen? Nooooo...” He rolled his eyes, which seemed to fly all over the place. “Good to see you regardless, my friend.” Buch smiled as they caught up with the guard and Iron.
“Wait a minute,” Iron said to Gorvar. “If you used the railroad, that means you got here before us. What were you doing along the road from the station to here anyway?” “Well, teaching my fans to how to play my lute of course.” Gorvar smirked. “Especially one cat lady, she was a clever girl all right...” “How? Your 'lute'” Iron quoted with his fingers. “Doesn't fit with Cathirs!” “Who said I used my 'lute'?” Gorvar let out his large red tongue as he hissed a snake like sound. Iron paused for a shocked and horrible moment before he replied. “That was disgusting.” “You asked.” Buch said. “You did ask.” Gorvar added. “Sod the both of you.” The dwarf mumbled in his beard. “I didn't get this shit in Nam.”
“Nam?” the hiccup-ing guard asked. “Nam-Zar Tol,” Iron answered. “One of the lost kingdoms my people tried to reclaim from the trolls. Tunnels so hot you can fry an egg on the floor, subterranean plants so hostile they can eat a man raw and Trolls as large as boulders and twice as tough. It's hell on Earth.” “Technically under it,” Buch mused as he strayed his beard. “Pipe down, elf boy,” Iron glared. “If people like you stopped hugging trees for a moment we wouldn't even have any more trolls to trouble us.” “We starting the elf and dwarf rival trope this early?” Gorvar asked. “We didn't even get our quest yet!”
“We will soon,” Buch said as he motioned up ahead. The guard stopped in front of a large door where two other guards were stood. They pushed the door open, which revealed the huge throne room. Three rows of large wooden tables, filled with knights and men at arms and other folk. Wenches brought food and drink to the tables and sometimes disappeared with a knight to a more secluded corner with a lot of giggling. Little info: the kingdom of Varharim has a larger child birth rate than other kingdoms. Reasons include bastards, crossbow weddings, belated pregnancies such as a wives being pregnant for six months while their husbands are gone for a year... and the popular virgins who tell gullible husbands that the Gods did it trick.
The adventurers walked towards the large throne where King Calious, eighth of his name, was seated. Behind him was the banner of his house, a unicorn with wings on a blue field. The king wore fine regal clothing with a crown with many jewels and diamonds and other shiny things that are generally useless and serve no other purpose but to look pretty and cost money to upkeep. Like most people of royalty! Thank you, thank you I'm here all night! Next to him was a knight in black armour which concealed everything except two golden eyes that shone through his closed visor. He stared at the adventurers as they knelt before the king.
“Stand up, stand up!” the king smiled. “No need to bow for me.” “We kind of have to, your majesty,” Iron replied. “Divine right of kings and such.” “Oh right, well a short bow then.” Calious smiled. “I'm glad you could come – well some of you at least. Pray tell where the others of your illustrious company are?” “The others are probably along the way, your Majesty.” Buch replied. “ Tillian is drawing some tree somewhere and our ranger and his wife have jobs as a top chef and clinic-healer respectively in the Snowpine woods. So they both have to work to get their 'time off' for this.” “Oh, the public sector is always a bitch. But fair enough, I'll take any help I can get.” “What is the problem, your majesty?” Gorvar asked. “Trolls, goblins, vampires, dragons, some unruly giant?” “Worse,” the king sighed. “Ex-wives.”
TBC
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Post by Warhammer Gorvar on Dec 31, 2012 0:02:58 GMT 1
Chapter 2
The three adventurers blinked as the king told them the reason why they were hired. “You see, in Varharim kings and nobles are allowed to have multiple wives. I know what you are thinking – lucky bastard! Right? Well that's sorta right, in some departments, but my wives all decided to divorce me at the same time. And since I have to give half the royal coffer to each it's a rather a hefty sum.” “How much, if we may ask your majesty?” Buch asked. “8.6 billion silver marks,” Calious replied. “How much?!” Iron exploded. “How many wives did you have?” “Fifty-seven.” “Fifty-eight, your majesty,” The large dark knight next to him replied. “You forgot Queen Aliana again.” “Who?” Calious raised a brow at the trusted knight of his household. “Never mind, point is I need money bad or else the entire economy of the kingdom will collapse and I'll have sixty-eight–” “Seventy-two, your majesty,” The knight corrected. “Seventy-two mouths to feed.” The king resumed. “That is why I need your company to go on a dangerous quest.”
“And I thought my sex life was messed up...” Gorvar said to himself. “What quest?” Buch asked as he ignored Gorvar's talk. “You have to take a ship to the continent of Aourigha and you have to search for the Lost City of Afrikyah. There you will find riches beyond your wildest dreams: you get a ten percent cut and the rest is for me – I mean, the kingdom.”
Buch's brow raised a little but it was Iron who spoke. “You're having us on. Only ten percent to share among six?” “Now hold on, ten percent of let's say eight billion is still a lot of money,” Buch replied. “And we'll probably get titles out of this too, right?” “Loads of 'em,” Calious replied. “And a nice looking hat.” “I like hats,” Gorvar said. “You would,” Iron replied with a sigh. “Fine. So how do we do it?” “Simple.” The king replied. “Just go find the city and leave tracks for my men to find it and we will have them drag the treasure home. There is a boat in Brugge which will take you to Aourigha in no time.”
“That does sound simple,” Buch agreed. “Very well your majesty, we will gather the others and set forth on this quest.” “Might as well,” Iron shrugged. “I'm in.” “Likewise,” Gorvar agreed as the trio bowed before the king and walked off. “They will sing songs of the day Gorvar and friends found the lost city of Afrikyah! Except you Buch, you are a dick.” “I missed you too Gorvar, my old friend.” Buch smirked. “Let us make haste. We might catch the Blacks before they leave for here.” “Three to one this quest won't be as easy as Calious said it would be,” Iron said. “Agreed. The only quest I ever did that had no complications was when I had to kill some giant rats in some man's basement.” “We've all had that one,” Iron nodded in agreement.
As the trio left the hall, a glowing figure slid behind a curtain to stand next to the king. The black knight had his hand on the pommel of his sword, but relaxed when Calious waved his hand. “You sure about this?” the king asked the glowing elf. “You think they will succeed?” “It all depends on the way the dice are thrown, my good king.” The glowing elf replied in a soft tone. “It all depends on the dice...”
You all heard what that guy said? Pretty ominous right? Told you stuff was going to get epic! We're going to skip forward in time a bit now, to a few days later where we meet two more people of the Fellowship of the Blue Lady. We meet them in a large tavern of sorts, deep in the woods. Snowpine village was still part of the kingdom, but they were left alone most of the year. Except during Fall when a lot of children arrived on school trips to see the forest. You hated those trips? Me too. Gods awful they were. Anyway that tavern was well known for its excellent chef, a woodsmen by the name of Lind.
“Four hedgehog stews with chips, coming up!” The chef said as he dished out the stew in wooden bowls. He had long black hair, a short beard and looked quite handsome and strong. One glance and any maiden would have fallen for him... if they didn't see him wearing the white apron and a silly chef's hat.”
“Lind, table fourteen wants more hot bread,” a halfling waiter said as he took the hedgehog stews. “Tell table fourteen I'll have some more in ten minutes,” Lind replied as he went to another meal. “They seem pretty adamant on wanting it now,” The waiter replied in turn as he left for the table that ordered the stews. “And I'm pretty adamant I want to shoot them in the face with a crossbow,” Lind murmured to himself.
“Sweety,” A pleasant voice said to him as it entered via the back door, “that's not a nice thing to say to people.” Lind stopped for a moment to see his wife. She was a beautiful woman with long black hair and a white robe, which marked her profession as a healer. She grinned a little before she pecked him on the cheek. “I brought you lunch. You have a moment?” “Fifteen seconds, dear,” he replied as he kicked the bread buns into the oven. “Oh, five more then yesterday!” she teased as she sat down and began on her food. “Someone's been busy.” “I've been busy since eight. It's like no-one else around here can cook,” he replied.
The woman smiled as she snapped her fingers, which stopped the sound and movement around them. Lind sighed with relief as he seated himself across from her and began his lunch. “Thank you, Lillian.” “No problem,” She replied. “Oh, I saw this adorable kitten today a–” “Sweety, no,” he said. She pouted “I wasn't going to ask if we could have it.” “Good,” he sighed. She grinned again. “Because we have it already, look!” she said as she pulled out a black kitten from her purse. “I call him Mr Wishwashy, because he washes his paws!” The kitten purred as it gave Lind's face a lick. The woodsman merely stared at it.
“Terrific...” he sighed. “This is, what, number seven now?” “Seven's a good number!” Lillian exclaimed as she hugged the kitten. “Isn't that right Mr Wishwashy?” The kitten agreed with a soft meow. “See, he says yes.” “He asks if he can have some food,” Lind sighed as he gave the kitten some scraps. “Ranger, remember? I talk to the animals and such.” “Well, you have such animal magnetism,” she smirked with a finger on her lips.
Lind merely blushed a little as he resumed his lunch. He peered outside the window for a moment. The snow did not move due to his wife's magic, but he still saw the nature he craved. One more day and he had a day off. One more day and he could relax a little. A nice walk in the forest, reading a book near the fire, shooting a goblin in the face. Just relaxing. He couldn't wait. “Are you daydreaming again, Lind?” a voice snapped him back to the present. He turned around as a half elf ducked under the pans to get into the kitchen. “Buch!” Lillian smiled. “Good to see you! Getting a bit chubbier I see!” “Well, it was the holidays recently,” Buch chuckled. “But so are you – what's your excuse?” Lillian's smile faded to a sad face. “You're saying I'm fat..?” she trembled her lower lip a little. “No, no!” Buch tried to say. “You aren't–” “Just kidding!” she laughed. “Got you!” Lind laughed as Buch slapped his palm into his face.
“So, what brings you here Buch?” Lind asked. “An adventure,” the half-elven mage said to compose himself. He took a seat himself as he explained what the king had asked of them. The couple looked at each other, as if they communicated by thought. After a while they nodded at the same time and said, “Deal.” “Good. When do you think you'll be done with work?” Buch asked. “Now,” Lind replied as he shoved his apron in the washing bin. Lind and Lillian, after finding a victim – I mean a good friend to drop their cats off with, rejoined the fellowship. She gave both Iron and Gorvar a big, warm hug when she saw them. And with Lind's skills as a chef and Lillian's skills as a master manipulator of emotions, the fellowship stopped bickering... at least for a few days.
At the docks, a solitary figure (a female elf this time) was painting away. Her white hair reached her shoulders, and she wore an orange coat and grey trousers. She enjoyed painting and did that often when she was not with the fellowship. However instead of painting what she saw in front of her, she often painted things that could happen. And in this case it was a boat, snapped in half by tentacles from under the water as six figures flew in the air. “Huh,” She remarked as she placed her brush down and took up her notebook and pencil. “Note to self, buy anti-Kraken repellent...” She added that note under reminders to pick up health potions, mana potions, antidotes, elven bread... and a book of funeral rites suited for Man, Elf, Dwarf and lizardman.
TBC
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Post by Warhammer Gorvar on Dec 31, 2012 16:46:47 GMT 1
Chapter 3
The sound of song rang over that of steel and death as the company waded through a mob of goblins. “Puppet brother junioooor!” Gorvar sang as his rapier severed a goblin's head from its shoulders. “Puppet brother seniooor!” Buch sang back as he fought somewhere else in the mob. His staff held in the air, he cast a fireball which set a goblin shaman ablaze before he stabbed another one down with his sword. “Puppet brother juniooor!” Gorvar threw back as he kicked a large rock of a cliff which took several enemies with it. “Puppet brother seniooor!” Buch replied as he pointed his staff at Gorvar, setting the latter's sword on fire. “Puppet brothers!” they both sang at the same time, recommencing their asskicking.
“Did anyone bother to check what the HELL they're saying about?” Iron asked as he slammed his shield into a face before he rammed his sword through it. “No, too busy cooking,” Lind replied as he fired from afar, picking off the spellcasters and archers one by one. “Not my kind of literature,” Lillian said as she summoned a protective bubble around Iron to protect him from arrows being fired at him. “I thought you were into songs about people being miserable!” Buch shouted through the chaos. “You're saying you and Gorvar are miserable?” Lind asked as he reloaded his crossbow. “I don't know about the half-elf, but Gorv here is pretty blue from not getting any letters from Tillian. Can't say I blame her,” Iron grinned. “The hell did I do to get you to dislike me?!” Gorvar slammed his tail against a goblin's face, which sent it flying.
“You think I didn't hear the song you sang about me in taverns? 'Iron the Warrior Dwarf Who Can't be Hard Where it Matters?!” Iron retorted. “I like that one,” Buch chuckled. “Hey, not my fault you never get laid,” Gorvar said to Iron after the last goblin fell to Lind's bolt. “Some people don't feel the need to brag about it...” Iron said as he began looting the corpses. “Unlike some bards I know.” “Wait..” Lillian held up her hands. “You STILL haven't told Tillian how you feel about her?” “I did... sort of, kind of... not really.” Gorvar replied with a blush of sorts. “Shut up...” Lillian squealed and took the lizardman by the cheek and pulled on it like an old aunt who hasn't seen her nephew in years. “That's so adorable!” “Masculinity points dropping...” Gorvar sighed. “Lind, save me.” “Sorry, you're on your own pal,” the ranger smirked as he withdrew his bolts from the corpses. “Well, at least things can't get worse...” the lizardman sighed.
You know what's going to happen next.
The ground began to shake heavily as the trees started to move, or were thrown in the air. The fellowship turned towards the direction of where the violence was coming from as it came toward them. The source burst out in the open, so the company looked up... and up... and up. It was like a goblin, green and with a hunched back, but as tall as a large house and where the goblins had the decency to wear clothes and armour, this troll only had a loincloth which left little to the imagination. That, and the large tree-club which drew parallels to said lack of imagination. This really got dirty fast didn't it? Probably should put a disclaimer on it or something.
“A forest troll!” Lind pointed. “No, really?!” Iron retorted. “I wouldn't have guessed!” “Swords are of no use here, run!” Buch shouted as he called for a retreat. The fellowship ran through the trees as the forest troll gave chase, throwing or stomping down the trees which stood in his way. “You got any songs for this?!” Iron called over to the lizardman. “Yes, it's called KEEP ON RUNNING!” Gorvar shouted back to the dwarf. “I know that one!” Lillian said with a smile. “How did it go? Keep on ru–” “Not now, dear!” Lind called out. “Buch, throw some acorns over to it!” Lillian called over again. “Acorns? Why would I throw acorns over to it?!” Buch asked. “Well, you set them on fire first!” Lillian rolled her eyes. “Why would I throw flaming acorns at... anything?!” He ducked under a tree branch just in time. “Because you're a wizard!” She summoned another barrier which moved the trees out in front of them. “Not THAT kind of wizard!”
The fellowship stopped as the faced a large mountain, trapping them. “Well, bollocks,” Iron cursed. They turned around to see the forest troll looming up behind them, drooling as it stepped closer. “Okay, plan?” Gorvar asked Buch. “The plan is–” Buch tried to say, but was interrupted by a fireball to the troll's face. The giant creature cried out in pain as it held its face and began swaying around. “I like the plan so far,” Gorvar said. “Now what?” “That wasn't me.” Buch admitted.
More fireballs followed until a large thunderbolt finished the creature off and made it crash into the forest. As the party glanced up the cliffs, they saw a lithe orange figure jump down and float peacefully to the ground before them. Buch smiled as he walked over. “Tillian, your timing is perfect as always.” “I know,” the full-blooded elf replied, a matter-of-fact-ly. “I saw you from afar and I knew you'd have wasted all your magic on the goblins.” “Well thank you regardless.” Buch smiled. “You know of our quest?” “Quest?” she cocked her head to the side. “In short, we have to find a lost city on a different continent so we can give most of the treasure to some king, and then we get some riches as well,” Iron said. “And the hats,” Gorvar added. “Don't forget the hats.” “And the hats...” Iron rolled his eyes.
Tillian glanced at Gorvar for a moment before she nodded. “I like hats,” She said before she took Buch aside and spoke in elfish. “We must go. All manner of dark creatures are near. If we wish to reach Brugge we have to walk swiftly.” “Understood.” Buch replied in the same musical tongue before he turned to the party. “Let us be swift, it's nearly nightfall.” Gorvar leaned down to Iron with a bright smile. “She said she liked hats.” “Great, tell me when you start shopping for golden cradles.” The dwarf rolled his eyes as the party moved.
From afar, a regal figure and his entourage oversaw the party's progress. “Their skills are exactly as the legends foretold,” The dark knight said to his king as he handed the spying glass over to him. “Good,” Calious replied. “That means we're halfway there...”
TBC
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Post by Warhammer Gorvar on Jan 1, 2013 23:56:54 GMT 1
Chapter 4
“I have sharp claws, and nooobody loves me!” Gorvar sang as he played on his lute. “Because I have sharp claws, that doesn't mean I have a sharp souuul!” “The hell is he singing now?” Iron groaned. “His love life.” Lind smirked at the dwarf. With a chuckle, they fist-bumped each other. “Actually, it's a song about a dragon serenading a beautiful princess,” Gorvar replied, offended as he fine-tuned his lute. “Clearly if you had some taste in music, you would know.” “I don't listen to crap,” Iron replied. “Nobody here does.” “Buch does,” Gorvar retorted. “Isn't that right, old friend?” Buch raised his hand in the air. “Correct.” “Of course the sodding half-elf would agree with you on tastes of music.” The dwarf rolled his eyes. “It's all a matter of taste my small, grumpy friend,” Buch said. “We like songs about puppet brothers and dragons serenading maidens, you like songs of mining for gold and how you got your arses kicked by dragons and goblins.” The half-elf wizard smirked.
“How about I shove–” Iron said as he lifted up his sword, until Lillian placed her hand on his shoulder. With a short smile, the dwarf immediately ceased the threat and grudgingly walked along. “That is pretty scary...” Gorvar confided to Lind. The ranger gave a mere shrug and a smile.
“That's why I love her. Also she gives a good foot rub.” “I bet,” Gorvar replied. “With... being a healer and all.” “You were trying to say something dirty weren't you?” Lind folded his arms. “You see, I was, but then I realized it was Lillian and I couldn't.” “Why not?” “She likes kittens and she's so... darn cute.” Gorvar replied. “I can't break that innocence.” “Oh, but my dear husband broke me quite a few times. Mostly every night,” Lillian said with a smirk. “If you know what I mean.” She winked at Gorvar who stared at her. With a chuckle she turned around and continued her conversation with Tillian.
“Lind, your wife is hot,” Gorvar said. “I know,” he replied with a grin from ear to ear. “Need some snow to cool down?” “No, I'm good,” The lizardman replied hastily. “I just need a cold shower... and possibly some ear muffs” Buch raised his staff in the air as they reached a cliff. “My ladies and gentlemen, I think we are here.” He pointed the staff over to a large coastal town that shone brightly as the sun began to set. The sun's dying rays cast a red glow on the clouds as the sea seemed as quiet and serene as the beautiful white buildings of the town.
“Brugge,” Tillian said as she watched the town and its inhabitants. “Brugge,” Buch agreed. “It's only a model,” Lind said. “Shh.” Tillian hushed him. “However it may look, this town is still a hive of scum and villainy. Let us find a tavern. Chances are we'll find our captain there. Did our employer gave you a name?”
Buch nodded and took out a piece of paper from his sleeve. “Captain Killgrave... and we are getting a escort from a certain Ser Clint.” “Captain Killgrave, eh?” Gorvar snorted. “Sounds like a compensating name, like John Spartan. Destined to become a warrior or a man whore.” “Probably both,” Lind added. “Then again aren't you just that, Go–” “Lillian, your husband is picking on me again.” Gorvar called out as the party moved on.
“Now Lind, be nice,” she said with a mother's tone. “Yes dear...” Lind sighed as he frowned at Gorvar, the latter sticking out his large lizard tongue. “And you missed this?” Buch asked Tillian with a chuckle. “Yes,” She replied. “After being alone for some time, any noise is good noise. Helps me think. Also I miss your company.” “Mine?” Buch helped her down a rocky path. “Yes, you are the only one I know who speaks to my level. Relatively speaking.” She said as she took his hand and got down. “Well, I did miss your sage wisdom as well,” the half elf replied, “but still you haven't told me how you can find us every time we're in trouble. Ever since the first day we met, you always appeared to save us in the nick of time.” She stared at Buch for a moment. “Time is a formless entity, it has no nick to speak of.” With that she walked off.
The fellowship arrived in the town, which was still crowded with people despite the hour. Instead of walls, Brugge had watchtowers with expert marksmen who used a new dwarven invention called fire arms. Obviously it's not literally a fire-arm, since lighting your arms on fire is more counterproductive than anything else. Also quite painful, don't do it. Lesson for the day. No, fire arms are like crossbows except you shoot iron little balls at the bad guys. Or good guys if you're a bad guy. Brugge was well protected so its citizens were happy. The only problems arose when some sailors got to rowdy or the occasional show downs erupted between two knights who had mastered the fire arm art. The party saw one of those show downs when they entered the coastal town.
Both knights were not dressed in armour, but rather in long leather trench coats, black boots and a strange looking hat. Their gun was slung to the left side of their hip, much like a sword. The gunslingers were in black and white attire respectively. The white one was clean-shaven and had a stunning smile, the other had a unkempt beard and dark brooding eyes. They stared blankly until in the blink of a second, they drew their guns and fired at each other. A loud cracking noise sounded through the town like a church bell as the smoke from the pistols waved away in the wind. The gunslingers stared each other down, guns drawn still... until the white one fell upon the ground.
“Headshot, that one.” A bystander commented. “Ser Clint strikes again...” “Clint? Isn't that our back up?” Iron asked Buch. The half-elf agreed and walked over to the black gunslinger as the coroner dragged the white one away and the people dispersed. “Excuse me good ser,” Buch began as Ser Clint took out a small white tube filled with tobacco and lit it. “Are you Ser Clint?” “Who's askin'?” Ser Clint replied as he exhaled a smoke cloud. “The Fellowship of the Blue Lady,” Tillian replied as she stepped forward. “You're the fellowship?” Clint peered at the group. “Fair enough. I've got bad news though. Some bastard shot Captain Killgrave, ship ain't sailing.” “Called it.” Gorvar held out his hand as both Iron and Lind gave him five silver coins each. “Who killed the Captain?” Buch asked. Clint inhaled deeply before he exhaled a smoke cloud into the air. “I did.”
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Post by Warhammer Gorvar on Jan 3, 2013 20:19:10 GMT 1
Chapter 5
“Killgrave was a bastard,” Clint said as he took a swig from his glass. His heavy black boots were on the table as the rest of the fellowship took their seats. “Slaver. Sold lots of goblins to some dark wizards or whatever.” “Explains why we came across them along the way,” Lillian said. “No, not those,” Clint replied. “These are... ah there's one.” He pointed to a goblin that entered the tavern.
He looked like a goblin, except he had a strange beret on his head and sported a red beard. “Oi, where's ta fooking brew?!” the goblin shouted in a loud accent. A dwarf stared at him which made the goblin flare with anger and grabbed him by the beard. “What you looking at?! Gunna fooking rip ya scabby balls off, nancy boy!” The fellowship couldn't help but stare as Iron dropped his pipe into his beard. “So... how did they get caught again?” Gorvar asked the gunslinger. “Same as everyone else, partner. They're just venting really. Nobody has the guts to tell them off,” Clint replied. “But anyways, your ship ain't sailing for a while folks.” “He is right,” Buch agreed. “Aourigha is a continent only one ship out of three can get to. It's protected by mysterious underwater monster that can eat entire armadas. It gets even worse if we actually get there. Colony run by corrupt magisters, jungles filled with flesh-eating insects and worse. Old curses that can turn a man into an old skeleton in mere heartbeats. It's a dark continent.” “Why so glum, old friend?” Gorvar asked. “What's ar-mada with yo-AW!” he cried out in pain as Lind slapped him across the back of his head. “Oh come on! I'm the joker here, it's my shtick!”
“I'm only saying it takes a special kind of person to sail up there, or people who'd want to go there, for that matter,” Buch replied before he lit a pipe. “There has to be a way,” Lillian said. “There has to be a captain insane or desperate enough.” “Well...” Clint took one last swig before he got up. “I know one captain who just got a new boat...”
The fellowship made their way to the docks where a ship was being outfitted for its new captain. “Argh, move it yer scurvy dogs!” A goblin with a captain's hat and a big bushy red beard shouted to his crew as he walked on his fake wooden leg (he had owned a healthy leg before but chopped it off regardless). His crew consisted of other goblins, a few halflings and even a human or two. “You've got to be joking me...” Iron grunted. “Gods damned goblins?” “They owe me,” Clint said as he lit his cigarette. “Unless you want to dog paddle to Aourigha you'd better learn some respect for other cultures quick.” With that, the gunslinger stepped forward. “Captain Redbeard!”
The goblin captain turned around as he adjusted his hat and gobbled over. “Ser Clint, good to see yer laddie!” he smiled as he adjusted his eyepatch. “What can I do yer fer?” “My...” Clint looked back at the fellowship. “Peers are looking for a trip to Aourigha. Can you take us there?” “Aourigha?!” Redbeard blinked. “Ere er daft?! Why ta hell do yer want to go there for? I wouldn't go there fer all the gold in the world. No sir-eee!” “Eight billion silver marks,” Gorvar said. “Well hop on in! The Hero Wezzeck is at yer service!” Redbeard shouted as a Halfling kicked the walking bridge down. “Next stop, Cape Shit-out-of-luck!”
“Smooth negotiating skills there, Gorv,” Lind said as the fellowship walked up the bridge. “Hey, I am rather skilled at persuading people,” the lizardman grinned. “Really? I recall you begged quite a bit on our previous adventure,” Iron replied. “Oh please don't kill me, Mr. Death Knight! I have a mate and three eggs at home.” The dwarf laughed. Gorvar glared and tossed his tail behind him which made the dwarf fall of the bridge, into the water. “Oops.” “You son of a bitch!” The dwarf cursed as he tried to stay above the water level. “Get me out of here! I cant swim!” “Now that was cruel,” Buch said to Gorvar. “I know...” Gorvar replied. “But worth iiiiit!” he said with a chuckle. The half-elf laughed as well and gave the bard a fist-bump.
The ship set sail soon enough as it caught the evening tide out to sea. Lind made himself king of the kitchen cabin and prepared a fine meal for the entire crew as Gorvar sang the song of the dragon who serenaded the princess. Buch sat in the corner with Tillian, smoking his pipe as he saw Gorvar's eyes fall on her from time to time.
“He still fancies you,” Buch said to Tillian. “Who?” Tillian asked as if she had snapped awake. She was painting again and so far had no trouble, despite it being night and the movements of the boat. “Gorvar.” Buch pointed the end of his pipe to the bard. “Has done for a long while now.” “I know,” Tillian replied. “And I know he thinks of me often when he mates with other members of the female gender.” Buch coughed as he doused his pipe. “All right, no more smoking around you.” “Good, it is counterproductive to growth and the internal organs,” she replied as she resumed painting. “Fair enough. Still, shouldn't you at least put him out of his misery? Tell him you don't like him or something.” “But I do,” she replied. “You... do? Buch asked. “Yes.” “All right... why?” She merely shrugged and kept painting. “I wait until the moment is there.” She cleaned the brush with a magic word before she changed to another colour. “It is all put on canvas.” “What is?” Buch frowned as he tried to understand her. “Everything, everyone,” she said as she finished her painting. “Everywhere.” With that she took her painting and went to her cabin. On it was an ancient looking temple with a wizard of sorts fighting a man with a strange hat who used a special brand of weapon. Fire arms.
“So...” Clint said as he cut the deck and passed some to Lillian. “Your symbol is a blue dame?” “Yes,” the healer replied as she took her hand. “We all came together when the Maiden was seen very clearly in the stars.” She pointed upward to the night sky. “It seemed like as good a sign as any. It was that or the skunk we had for lunch that day.” “Ah...” Clint shrugged and threw down a card: a red heart numbered seven. “And you and the ranger?” “Married, happily.” She threw down a red heart number five. “We met each other for the first time that day. It was quite romantic.” “Mhm...” Clint replied as he took the cards and put them aside before he threw down a black nine. She returned it with a black four. “So why're you still with those folk, ma'am?” She smiled at him as he took away the cards. Another point to her. “Because they are our friends.” She looked back as Iron and Buch were arguing about something, Gorvar singing as he was dragged off by a rather nice looking halfling woman to her cabin, Lind showed his crossbow to Captain Redbeard and Tillian just watched the stars above. “They're more than that, aren't they?” Clint said. Lillian turned back to see him as she threw down a red eight and nodded with a smile. “They're family.” “I have a saying back home.” Clint threw down a red five and claimed the point. “Family gets you killed.”
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Post by Warhammer Gorvar on Jan 4, 2013 20:39:04 GMT 1
Chapter 6
The sound of the ocean and the rocking of the boat awoke Gorvar from his slumber. He felt a warm body on his chest and opened his eyes with a smile before he sighed. It wasn't the white haired elf who held him in a loving embrace, but the green-haired halfling from the night before. He gently pushed her aside before he dressed himself and left his cabin. Outside the sun was shining and the sea gods couldn't have provided a more peaceful ocean. There were only a few people on the deck. A few crewmen and a half-elven mage who seemed to enjoy his morning tea.
“Morning,” Buch said as the lizardman took his seat next to him. “Sleep well?” “I didn't sleep much,” Gorvar replied. Buch offered a mug of tea which made the bard stick his long tongue out in disgust. “No thanks. Tastes like soap water.” “Suit yourself. Might get rid of the guilt,” Buch said as he took another sip. “I don't feel guilt.” Gorvar replied with a raised brow. “Really. So that is why you're acting happy as always?” Buch raised his brow. “You seem as cheerful as someone who just died.” “Depends how he died.” The lizardman stretched. “I knew a man who died during intercourse.” “I know, I was there too, remember?” Buch offered a wine bottle instead which the lizardman took gladly. “Yes.” Gorvar held out the bottle in the air. “To Headmaster Barristan of the Bird and Lizardman College, may his songs be sung for many years.” “Here, here,” Buch agreed and took a sip from his tea while Gorvar gulped his wine down. “So... why am I guilt ridden?”
“Because you love Tillian and your romantic advances to her have always been shut down or ignored for months, so you take your comfort in one night stands?” Buch looked at his friend. “Well... I bet you don't know my favourite number.” Gorvar pointed at him as he nodded his head. “It's five,” Buch smirked before he turned serious again. “Gorvar, my friend, why cant you just let her go?” The bard stared at the ocean as he gathered his thoughts. “I can't explain.” He twirled the contents of his wine bottle around. “When I'm near her, it feels right.” “What does?” “Everything,” Gorvar replied. “It is like... I know my place in the world when I'm standing by her side. Like it's all laid down, like put on paper.” He looked at Buch. “You know what I'm saying? “I... think I do,” Buch replied. As Gorvar smiled a little and went back to watching the ocean, Buch began brooding again. “More than you know,” he said to himself.
“Morning, folks.” Iron said as he came out to the deck. Both Buch and Gorvar wished him a good morning back. “Who was that girl you were with last night, Gorvar?” “Don't know,” the bard admitted. “Why?” “Well I think we just found world's most desperate woman,” he said with a grin. “And yet out of all the people on this boat, she didn't sleep with you,” Buch retorted as he lit his pipe. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just light my pipe and share some of the wine, would ya?” Iron said as he took out his pipe. Buch chuckled and lit the dwarf''s pipe while Gorvar gave the rest of the wine bottle to him. With that the dwarf walked off as he took a large gulp from the bottle. “Yer ain't like them others,” a voice said. Iron turned around as Captain Redbeard walked up to him. “Yer're a professional.” “How can you tell?” Iron asked the goblin captain. “I recognize this, yer scallywag.” Redbeard pointed at the emblem on Iron's chest, an upside down triangle with a star in the middle of it. “Even my people know the Host of the Dead.” The dwarf moved away from the goblin. “It's none of your business.” “Yer are on my ship and yer are seekin' no treasure or booty of any kind.” He pointed his small saber at the dwarf. “Yer seek death, lad.” The dwarf did not reply but took a gulp from his bottle instead. As he began to run out, he looked for something else to drink but immediately found a new bottle in his hand, given to him by Redbeard. “What yer did on the mainland is of no concern 'ere, laddie.” The captain smiled with crooked yellow teeth. “Everyone has a new start on ta sea.” “Some more than others,” Iron replied as he walked off.
The day passed by. Nothing important happened really. Some people got sick and threw up, some played cards, did some shenanigans, oh and a Kraken attacked.
“Mon Capitan!” a goblin crewmember shouted from the crow's nest. “Il y a un Kraken, right ahead!” “Prepare the cannons, hoist the main sails, prepare fer battle!” Captain Redbeard shouted. Up ahead a giant creature with multiple tentacles came up from the ocean floor and searched for food. The Hero Wozzeck was just the thing he was craving for. Me, I would have egg and bacon but you know Kraken, being unleashed and such... It swam right for the ship as it deflected arrows, spells and even cannon fire. Lind was on top of the crow's nest as the creature came closer. “Just a little more...” He had his finger on the trigger. “Just a little more...” he repeated. He prayed to his own god and pulled the trigger when he had the shot. The bolt flew and landed right in the creature's monstrous eye. The kraken roared out in pain which shook the world as its tentacles flew all over the place. Waves clashed over the ship as it moved up and down. Lillian and Tillian muttered their spells as they summoned a large bubble to protect the ship against the monster's great arms and the waves it spawned. “Next time we go on a boat, remind me to bring some anti-Kraken repellent?!” Gorvar hung on to the mast. As something was thrown at him, he caught it instinctively. He looked at the bottle and blinked. “Anti-Kraken repellent?!” He looked up. “Who threw this?! You know I was kidding, right?!”
There was no reply but the screaming winds. He groaned and sprayed some on himself and saw Iron clinging on for dear life as well. “Iron!” Gorvar shouted and threw the bottle over. “Anti-Kraken repellent?!” Iron shouted. “Just pass it along!” The bard replied.
Lind fired another bolt but never hit the other eye. The Kraken threw all its might at the ship. “Hold on!” Lillian shouted as she tensed the shield. As the tentacles slammed against the shield, a large crack of magic lightning shook the ship as the mast snapped in half. Lind slid back down as the rope gave way. The tentacles writhed all over the ship as the crew stabbed/slashed/shot and cast spells at it. A tentacle once in a while grabbed a crewmember and threw him or her in the ocean where it devoured them. Redbeard slashed a tentacle in half as he heard a cry. He turned as green haired Halfling woman hung on to an piece of wood. “Captain!” she shouted, as he reached for her. He almost had her. Just an inch or two.
A loud crack snapped as the wood gave away and she to was drawn into the water. Redbeard cursed as he went to the steering wheel and set a new course: straight for the maw of the creature. “Set the charges!” he called out to the remainder of his crew, who began throwing matches into their munitions boxes. “Everyone abandon ship!” “Redbeard, don't be an idiot!” Clint shouted as he shot a tentacle. “Don't do the heroic thing and stay behind to go down with your ship!” “Are yer daft, I ain't doing that! I want to live, damnit!” Redbeard said as he stuck a piece of wood on the wheel which set the course. “What makes yer say that tripe?!” “I thought that was what captains do.” Clint replied as he ran off with Redbeard. “Fook dat noise, I only had this ship for three days!” “Everyone, get out now!” Buch held out his staff as it shone through the water and wind as a beacon. The crew and the fellowship jumped into the water, away from the incoming blast. The repellent stayed the tentacles, but it was of no use against being blown up by goblin explosives. I don't think anything is, come to think of it. A moment later the ship sailed into the Kraken's maw and swallowed the creature whole in its fiery embrace.
Lind groaned as he slowly came to. He felt he was face down in sand. The tides had thrown him onto some beach of sorts. He took several moments to gather his senses and crawled back up. He saw debris and several pieces of Kraken... but nobody else. Lillian, he thought to himself and got up as he tried to find any sign of her or the others. “Looking for something?” a voice said behind him. As he turned around, he saw a hooded figure with a cane and a long rat tail. The ranger stared the figure down. It opened its robe and revealed a series of weapons and food. “Solidwood Shade always has what you need.”
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Post by Warhammer Gorvar on Jan 5, 2013 22:54:13 GMT 1
Chapter 7
Iron shook the sand out of his boot when Lillian walked over. Aside for some minor tearing at her robe and sand in their shoes, both were fine. “And?” the dwarf asked the healer. “Nobody except us and some wooden debris.” the healer replied, a little downtrodden. “Could be worse. The half-elf could've been here.” The dwarf slipped his boot back on as he got up. “Which brings us to the point: where the hell IS here?” “I don't recall any islands being this close to Aourigha.” Lillian placed her hands on her hips. “We were three days away from Cape Shit-out-of-luck as well.” “Tillian's doing?” Iron took his only surviving weapon, an axe, and a shield custom-made out of driftwood. “Must be. When the Kraken attacked I was giving the shield everything I had. She looked as... urgm...” “Vacant as ever?” Iron interjected. “Little rude, but yes,” she agreed. “She was also distant. She might have mentally prepared a teleport spell or something.” “Probably,” Iron agreed as he glanced around. The beach was covered in wooden debris from the ship and the forest trees just outside of the beach had a strange shape to them. “What are these?”
“Palm trees.” “I didn't know you were such a barrel full of wisdom, Lillian.” “That wasn't me...” Lillian said as she pointed behind them. Iron turned around, his weapons drawn, and found a hooded figure with a cane and a long rat tail. It opened its robe and revealed a series of weapons and food. “Solidwood Shade always has what you need.” Iron looked at Lillian, who shrugged. “I got nothing,” she said. “We work on a credit system – you can pay back later,” the rat creature replied. “No we do not accept songs.” “Good. Mine are shite,” Iron replied. “So are hers.” “Hey!” Lillian frowned. “I'll have you know Lind thinks I have an excellent voice.”
“The lizardman asks if you have money on you,” the rat thing asked. “The liz... Gorvar?” Lillian asked. “How do you know Go–” “No, the wizard does not have money on him, I said I worked on a credit system so you can pay back later,” the rat said. “I don't think he's talking to us...” Iron whispered to Lillian. “Message for Lillian Black from Lind Black: your husband is fine and will find you,” the rat replied.
“Lind! Where is he?” She went to grab the creature but her hands went through him as though he was made out of mist. “Message for Iron from Gorvar: roses are red, violets are blue, with your face Iron, you belong in a zoo,” the rat said. “That son of a bitch!” Iron had to be held back by Lillian before he could charge at the creature. “I'll kill him!”
A few moments earlier, on the other side of the jungle...
“Hey.” Clint kicked Gorvar in the stomach gently. “You alive, partner?” “I don't want to go to school today, mum...” he groaned as he slowly got up. The gunslinger rolled his eyes and turned around to find a hooded figure with a rat tail. “Well I'll be damned...” It opened its robe. “Solidwood Shade always has what you need,” it said. “The hell is that?” Gorvar asked as he dusted the sand off his armour. “A nether salesman,” Clint replied. “They travel from world to world, plane to plane. One of your mage friends must've summoned him for this party.” “Good. One problem though.” Gorvar took out his left boot and poured out sand from it. “I got no money.”
“We work on a credit system. You can pay back later,” the rat thing replied. “How about a song?” Gorvar asked. “I'm a bard by trade.” “No, we do not accept songs,” it replied. “Damn it, wish we could ask Buch for money. Don't like being in debt to merchants,” Gorvar said to Clint. The gunslinger merely shrugged. “The lizardman asks if you have money on you.” the rat thing asked. Gorvar blinked. “The hell is going on?!” “It must be talking to Buch right now, at the same time as us.” Clint said. “No, the wizard does not have money on him. I said I worked on a credit system so you can pay back later,” the rat said. “Message for Lillian Black from Lind Black, your husband is fine and will find you.” “Holy shit, he can relay messages?!” Gorvar smirked. “Hey, salesman. Can you deliver a message to Iron?” The rat nodded and listened to the message Gorvar gave him.
Meanwhile...
Buch groaned as he rubbed his brow. “At least we know Gorvar is still alive...” he said to himself. “Right, Shade. Take a message. This is Buch. We are on Aourigha. Tillian teleported us here but I lost track of her. I will try to find her. And Lind I don't want any heroics from you going after her yourself. She is a wizard like me, so I can trace her faster. Find your wife and the others. Everyone go to Cape Shit-out-of-luck. The nether salesman will hand out new maps to you. Take food and weapons from him, I am paying him right now,” the half-elf wizard said as he gave a bag of coins to the rat thing. “You've got a budget of sixty gold coins each. Don't be greedy. I'm looking at you Iron.” The rat thing said, “Message for Lind Black from Lillian Black: Be careful, Lind. Love you,” followed by “Message for Halmadir Buhan Everbloom from Iron. Go screw yourself you cheap ass bastard.”
Buch groaned as he tried to find his pipe, and groaned even more when he realized that the tides had taken it away. “Why did I do this again?” He asked the rat thing for one more message. “Go to the town, don't stop for anything or anyone else. Good luck everyone.” With that the wizard walked off on his cane as the rat thing tattered along with various purchases.
Tillian awoke from the constant dripping on her head. With a heavy moan she slowly climbed up and found herself in a nest... a raptor nest. The scaly predators hissed as they saw her get up and surrounded the nest. “Raptors...” she said to herself. “Hunt in packs of six. Prefer to eat meals alive. Highly dangerous, do not go near them, even with a full group.” The largest one growled as it stepped closer to her, claws drawn. “Magic's gone due to side effect of massive teleportation spell,” she said as she held her ground. The leader seemed to grin with evil intent as it opened its maw with sharp teeth. “Fortunatly, I see local support.” A sudden shout alerted the raptors as two figures ran into the cave. One of them was a guard of sorts with strange dark glasses which covered both eyes on his face and a bushy moustache. He swung an axe in the air like a man possessed. The other with a lizardman with a fire arm who also had dark glasses. “I WILL CHOP YOUR HEADS OFF!” the guard shouted and did just that to the leader. “Ronnoc, watch out for the civilian. She's a good guy!” the lizardman said as he scored a headshot. “Understood, Hodster!” Ronnoc said as he swung away. Tillian stood perfectly still as the slaughter around her commenced, and ended shortly afterwards. “You all right there, ma'am?” Ronnoc asked as he took out some lemon and used it to wipe away the blood on his axe.” “I am fine, thank you,” she replied. “You must take me to your leader. Magistrate Towzerd. I believe he is expecting me.” “He's a dummy,” Ronnoc said. “I should be the Magistrate.” Hodster nodded. “We will take you there, ma'am,” the lizardman said and escorted the elf along.
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Post by Warhammer Gorvar on Jan 7, 2013 21:49:00 GMT 1
Chapter 8
“I'm to old for this...” the wizard groaned as he cut his way through the vines. “All right I'm only two hundred years old, but still.” He kept slashing his way through the jungle as he talked to himself. He kept his staff on his back, which gave a distinctive clicking sound every time it tapped against Buch's right boot. He paused for a moment as he took a long gulp from his water canteen. After screwing the top back on, he wiped the remnants of the water from his lips using his slee– all right, all right. I'm getting to the cool bits, hold your horses. Sheesh. Anyway, after he cast a spell to track down Tillian he came across an open patch in the middle of the jungle. In that open spot was a table with two chairs... and one chair was already occupied. “Archmage Halmadir Buhan Everbloom,” a glowing figure said as he motioned to the free chair. “Please sit down. “We have much to talk about.”
Buch frowned, but did as he was told and took a seat. Out of nowhere a bottle of wine and two glasses appeared. “Barely saw you mutter those words there,” Buch said as the glowing figure poured out his drink. “I have been doing this for a long timem” the glowing man replied pleasantly. “So, how is your little quest going?” Buch took a sip of the wine and smiled a little. “Wine is good, no flaws.” He placed the glass down. “I think we both know how it's going. I sensed you back in Varharim. You've been following us.” “In a matter of speaking,” the glowing figure replied. “King Calious as well.” “Calious?” Buch frowned. “Monarchs are an unreliable lot. They get to power by stabbing each other in the back, so you can't really blame him for following you around.” The figure took a sip. “Also, his is not the only party that is looking for the lost city.” “I know,” Buch replied. “I have always known.”
The glowing figure leant closer to Buch, his hands folded. “How did you find these people?” he asked. “Luck, faith, bit of both?” “I do not believe in luck or faith,” Buch replied. “I picked them because they're the best.” “The best?” The figure laughed. “Your group consists of a dwarf who seeks his own death, an idiotic lizard, a third grade healer and her woodsman of a tracker, an emotionless elf and a knight you don't even know if you can trust or not.” “They will get the job done.” “Or die trying?” The glowing elf smirked. “How many people died for you throughout the years, Halmadir? Ten? A dozen? More?” “The cycle ends. I will not allow it.” Buch glared. “Are you truly that foolish...? What makes you think your group of fools will stop His masterpiece?” “Because we have one thing that you lack,” Buch said as he stood up. “What's tha–”
Before the glowing figure could react, Buch's staff slammed into the glowing elf's temple and fell to the ground. Out of nowhere, several sentries appeared, bearing tabards painted with a winged unicorn on a blue field. Before they could lay a hand on him, Buch took out his sword and slashed them down with quick moves. As the glowing elf tried to get up, the half-elf kicked him down before he walked off. “We're badasses.”
Meanwhile
Lind fashioned a new bow for himself, since he had taken few things for himself from the merchant. The others had more use for it then he did. Besides, he was not just an expert in cooking. With the scraps of everything he could find, he had a new bow, several arrows in a quiver he made out of the leather he'd found of a corpse, and a dagger belonging to said corpse. Also he found red cloth which he used for a bandanna. What practical use is a bandanna? None, but boy did it make him look like a badass. He spoke with the local wildlife and made his way to the others. But midway he could not help but stop for a moment to look back. He was being followed. Hunted, even. He froze as he tried to place the creature, but couldn't. He saw the glass move in a few places around him. Not one predator, several. He heard clicking, grunts. Not animals but worse... humanoids.
A single gunshot rang through the forest as a coconut was split in half. “Yeah!” Gorvar cheered. “Shot that sucker!” “You ain't so bad with a gun there, partner,” Clint tilted his hat back as both walked through the jungle. “Well, I am pretty awesome, I've been told.” Gorvar snickered. Clint couldn't help but smirk. When both heard rustling they stopped, and before anyone could say anything, several black humanoid creatures with tusks jumped out of the jungle wearing spears, shields, masks made out of animal skin and loincloths (thank the gods for that.). “The hell are these guys?” Gorvar asked Clint. A spear was thrown in-between them as the mob charged toward them. “Black orcs,” is what Clint replied “They're orcs who travelled here from the mainland and have gone insane and feral in the jungle.” “Fair enough,” Gorvar replied and shot one in the head. Both men drew their swords and hacked/fired away as they fought through the mob. More black orcs came, however. Clint and Gorvar's guns clicked as their ammunition ran out. Both looked at each other, then back at the orcs. “Advance in the other direction?” Gorvar suggested. “Agreed! Run!” Clint agreed and both ran for it.
Iron breathed heavily as he came to on a pile of dead orcs. The last thing he remembered, he was killing the last one... and getting a spear in the chest. When he looked down he saw a glowing hand hovering above his chest... and Lillian being the one who was healing him. “The hell you think you're doing?” Iron asked. “Saving your life. Now hold still,” Lillian replied. “You got hurt bad.” “Stupid, stupid women...” he groaned. “You're welcome,” she growled slightly. “First you want me dead, then you save me...” he said deliriously. He nodded off. When he awoke, it was under a custom made hut. It was night out as the jungle came to life. Lillian was roasting lizards over a camp fire. “Sleep well?” She offered a stick to Iron who gladly ate. “I had to throw away all the food we bought to get rid of the orcs. Luckily Lind taught me how to snare animals and build huts.” Iron gave a nod and ate. “A little thanks would be nice,” she frowned. “I didn't ask for this,” Iron replied. “I couldn't let you die,” she said. “You're my frie– fellow party member, at least. We need to help each other.” “You could've helped me by letting me die,” Iron replied. “What, why?” she asked. Iron pointed to the symbol, upside down triangle with a star in the middle of it. “I am part of the Host of the Dead. I dishonoured myself, my clan and my people. My only atonement is death, which you gladly took away from me.” The healer looked at him oddly. “What did you do?” Iron looked away, as if he saw a ghost from his tragic past walk by. “I fell in love...”
TBC
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Post by Warhammer Gorvar on Jan 10, 2013 0:25:14 GMT 1
Chapter 9
Then
The woman was shuddering despite the high flames that surrounded her in the ruined city. Buildings crumbled all around her. Everywhere she saw dead corpses. Fellow elves, like her. She was holding a child in her arms before it happened, but it was no longer there now. Only dust remained. She saw a strand of her hair dangling in front of her. She peered at it before she held it with ash covered hands. It was white. Her hair wasn't supposed to be white, was it? Everything was so confusing. What happened before the attack? She only remembered her name...
“Miss!” a voice seemed to shout to her from afar. She heard it, but she didn't react. Somehow her entire world fell down to her watching her white hair. The voice came closer now. “Miss,” It sounded again. A male voice. She stood up, automatically. She turned around and found herself looking at another one of her kin... no, no this was just a half-elf, covered in blood. Red blood. In a robe with a pointed hat. “Miss, we have to go before they come here again,” the half-elf said as he inspected his sword and threw it on the ground. “Ruined. Blasted fiends...” he muttered. He looked at her. “Miss, are you all right?” “I'm fine,” she said with a rather emotionless tone. It was all falling together somehow. “I've seen you before.” “I was here before the attack, yes.” the man replied. “Come on, we don't have much time.” He took her hand with his free hand and guided them through the debris. He held up his staff and a magical blue sphere protected them from the flames. “What's your name?” he asked her. “Tillian,” She said. Tillian Oakenshade. “Yours?” “Halmadir Buhan Everbloom, but you can call me Buch for short,” he replied. “We'll play twenty questions when we get out of here. We must make haste. The cultists of N'Zhan are nothing but thorough.” That is how she left her old life and began anew. As Tillian the elf, the fortune teller. The mage. The one who saw the pieces move.
Now
Tillian was led into the town Palace, but it was more like a jumped-up estate than anything else. Unlike the rest of the city, which was build out of wood and huts with the occasional small brick house, the palace was a large building, nearly as high as the light house. In the throne made out of marble, and a few pillows, was a large muscular man with a bald head and attire which was supposed to make him look regal, but seemed more a parody of it: trousers that barely closed, a nice looking shoe missing its twin, a large tattered cape and a custom-made crown. On the surface he tried to look kind and gentle, but Tillian saw the evil in his eyes. She's a clever girl like that. “Well, well, well, an elf,” Magistrate Towzerd smirked as she entered. “We don't see many people like you around here.”
She said nothing as the guards behind her closed the gate. “My sources say you were travelling with Nord Ronnoc and Hodster, rabble-rousers and sworn enemies of Cape Shit-out-of-luck,” he said as he leaned on his cane which was a quarter his size and was not meant to be used by a man of his size. “What does that make you?” “I was rescued by them from a nest of predators,” she replied. “I owe them my thanks.” “They disrupt the peace around here, which I try to maintain.” Towzerd walked over to her. She had to hold her breath from his smell. “You still haven't told me your name.” He went to touch her hair, but a quick hand caught his wrist. “Tillian Oakenshade,” she replied as she let go off the hand. “My friends and I are lost in the jungle.”
“More elves?” Towzerd chuckled as he rubbed his wrist. “No. Three humans, a half-elf, a dwarf and a lizard man. Also a crew of goblins.” She said. “Another expedition gone wrong because of Ol' Nessy!” The magistrate laughed, as the guards save the two by the gate joined in. “I'm sad to say your friends will not be alive. These jungles are crawling with all kinds of...” He held out his hand as a serving woman handed him a goblet of wine. She offered one to Tillian, who simply stared at the woman's black eye before she backed off. Towzerd sniffed at the wine before he took a sip. “...unsavoury creatures. Panthers, bears, black orcs, rebels.” “Rebels?” Tillian inquired. Towzerd gave the goblet back to the serving lady and sent her off with a smack to her rump. She looked too terrified to protest, Tillian noted. “Yes, people like those whom you owe thanks.” “You rule these people by fear and oppression,” the elf replied as a matter of factly. Towzerd laughed. “So what if I do? I keep these people safe from the monsters outside these walls! Nobody cares about this colony. We are on our own and my rule makes sure they aren't monster chow.” He stepped closer to her. “And if I were you, I would watch your tone.” He offered his hand. “Would you join me in my room, please?”
When she did not move he snapped his fingers. All of a sudden the guards, even the ones by the gate, had their spears aimed at her. “I wasn't asking,” he added. Tillian, still stone cold, walked along with him as a small escort followed. They walked up the stairs as the servants hurried away before their master. He opened the door to his room, which was easily the size of a small house. He pushed her in as he closed the door behind him. Her eyes wandered to his large bed. It looked nice and soft but she could see several scars of rough lovemaking in the mattress on the ground. “Like it?” Towzerd grinned as he offered her a glass of wine, which she took this time. “Good. You will see much use from it in the coming few days.” “True.” She took a sip of the wine and remembered. She had painted the bed back on the Hero Wozzeck with her and someone else in a loving embrace. But that moment had to happen still. It was all a matter of timing.” Now Towzerd stared at her and had a hand on his sword. “You aren't going to fight back?” “I am not going to fight you. My strength will be needed later; right now I am a diversion.” She placed the glass down.
“Diversion?” the magistrate asked. “On the way here we came across Captain Greenbeard and his crew. Most of them survived. They wanted gold. “She picked up a small statue on the night desk, a golden Kraken head. “Much like this.” She slammed it hard across his face. As he hit the floor, he heard the sudden clatter of steel on steel and blood spraying along with battle cries. “Greenbeard and Ronnoc put a plan in motion after we bought off your scouts. Greenbeard gets the gold, Ronnoc is the next Magistrate and this city will be free when my companions arrive. Which is now.” “You... you witch!” (See what I did there?) “Towzerd crawled back on his feet as blood dripped from his mouth. “My men–” “Are now in place because of a petrify spell I cast ten minutes before I got here. When they come to, they will be in jail,” she said. “Except you.” “What? What do you mean, except me?” “Your head will be chopped off.” She looked at the door. “In three, two...”
The door was kicked in as Ronnoc emerged, bloody axe in hand and his dark spectacles obscuring his eyes. “I am going to chop your head off!” he cried out and charged in. Towzerd tried to block the axe strike, but it shattered his blade and soon his severed head flew out the window. “I am the Magistrate now!” Ronnoc shouted out in victory. “No, Hodster is,” Tillian replied. “He's a magic Lizardman. “When someone's blood touches him it changes him. Now he is–” “Magistrate Hodster!” a voice sounded from outside. Ronnoc took a look and saw the people cheering for the lizardman, who now wore a proper regal clothing befitting a duke on the mainland. He still had his gun in one hand but now carried the cane on the other as his dark glasses still sat on his face.
“Look at all ta booty, me hearties!” Greenbeard shouted as he took gold from the Magistrate's mansion. He was decked out in gold necklaces and rings and even teeth. Of course he had to punch some of his own out before he could place the golden teeth in, but no pain no gain, right? “Fook yes!” the goblins cheered. But meanwhile the people of the town also cheered for their new heroes, Guard Commander Ronnoc and Magistrate Hodster. “Maybe it's better,” Ronnoc said as his people cheered for the lizardman ruler. “Being magistrate is probably boring. Fighting bad guys is much better.” He leaned on his axe. A brief glance around the room showed that all guardsmen had axes as weapons now, in honour of the weapon that killed Towzerd. “We owe you, my lady...” One of the servants bowed to Tillian. “We don't know how to thank you.” “I would like some canvas and paints, please.” Tillian said. “I have to catch up on my painting.” The servant bowed even deeper – as you do if you are a servant – and ran off. “Why do yer need ta paint, lass?” Greenbeard asked as he waddled over on a shiny new golden leg. “I want to know when my friends arrive here,” she replied. “And when Buch will tell us the truth.” “Truth?” Ronnoc asked. She held out the golden Kraken and gave it to Ronnoc. “Your Magistrate was under the control of N'Zath, the old god of the moon given form on our world.” “Meaning?” Greenbeard asked. “That at the end of the month, we all may be dead.”
TBC
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Post by Warhammer Gorvar on Jan 12, 2013 13:10:39 GMT 1
Chapter 10
Then
The underground city of Kharm-Drum stood anxiously in waiting as the greatest trial of dwarf kind happened behind the closed doors of the Senate. Inside Grand Commander Iron of House Kharnson faced trial for the crime of treason and even worse, destruction of a priceless artefact from the old Empire, the Heart of Light. The Grand Commander was stripped of his armour and wore nothing but thin cloth trousers to hide his modesty, and those were only given to him due to his years of service. Despite the severity of the crime there were only a few people in the court. Three judges, one for each of the remaining dwarven cities connected to each other still via tunnels, a jury consisting of Iron's peers and a few guards which were either dwarven or mechanized golems. “Commander Iron Kharnson, son of Rock Kharnson of the house of Kharn,” the judge for the city of Kharn-Drum began. “You stand accused of having destroyed the Heart of Light, having brought the deaths of its guards, and fraternization with a human female. How do you plead?” The jury mumbled in their beards as they awaited Iron's reply. “Guilty on the first and last, not the second,” Iron said. “I am no kin slayer.” The jury erupted into a furious uproar as the three judges all slammed their hammers on their desks and invoked the name of their gods. “ORDER, ORDER BY THE NAME OF THE THIRTEEN!” The last word made them all fall silent. “Explain yourself,” the female judge of the Silver Mountain urged. “I admit I have destroyed the artefact and I had relations with that cleric Anaise who worshipped the god N'Zath. I did not slay the men guarding the artefact.” “You admit to destroying a priceless heirloom of our people, one of the few things we have left since the dark hordes overtook our once great Empire...” the last judge from Erin-Zh... Erin-zha... some dwarf place, can't pronounce it. “Which is a crime worse than any.” “I had my reasons.” Iron replied. “What possible reason?” the first judge asked. Iron merely looked at the judges as he held his tongue. He could not tell them, for the truth would've destroyed the morale of the dwarves who had fought for hundreds of years against creatures that were never allowed to see the light of day. “So be it,” the first judge said. The three judges talked for a short moment, as did the jury. Iron gazed roughly where he assumed his father and siblings were, but saw no outcry nor muttering from their direction. He was alone, and he found peace with it. A moment later the judges reached a verdict when they received a stone tablet from the jury with the answer. Iron already knew what the answer was. “Grand Commander Iron, from this day on you will be stripped of your rank, your armour, your house and all your possessions. You will be given a sword and the symbol of the Host of the Dead with which you can either join the Host in the lower levels on the earth and fight until your death has absolved you of your sins, or die alone outside. Guards, take him to the great Gate.” The jury cried out in anger as clearly the verdict was not satisfactory. “Death!” They shouted. “Kill that humanfu–” Well, something like that. We can't swear here now can we? Think of the children! Iron was dragged off by the mechanized golems towards the city's great gate. The gate was as tall as a palace, with several stairways and murder holes filled with guards and maintenance people. The gate came under attack from time to time but it was never breached, nor were its sisters in the other two dwarven cities.
In the street gray carrots and cabbages were thrown at Iron as the golems paved their path through the mob with their captive. In front of the gate, a large dwarf in heavy armour (well, as large as you can get for a dwarf) was stood with some men, carrying a sword and a small badge. Iron was held in front of the large dwarf who walked over. “Iron, for treason you have been sentenced to the Host of the Dead and have earned the hatred of all the people of Kharn-Drum.” The dwarf punched Iron in the stomach and came close to him. The people cheered but Iron heard a whisper. “There is some armour for you outside around the corner. It's under a dead cave troll.” The big dwarf pulled back. Iron looked up, confused, but was given the sword and badge as a large cracking sound went through the city. The gate opened just wide enough for a dwarf to pass through. The exile was pushed into the dark tunnels ahead as the crowd cheered. When he turned around he saw the armoured dwarf look back at him, and gave a small nod. Iron returned the nod as he coughed up blood and walked off.
The guards on the Great gate did not jeer at him nor threw any insults. They kept their eyes on the dark tunnels below, just like Iron trained them. He did not look back and as instructed he went around the corner and did indeed find a dead troll. He pushed it aside and pulled out the armour and shield. Iron looked at the armour. “Thank you father,” He said to himself out loud and went to put it on. However a small rolled up piece of paper slipped out. Puzzled, the dwarf picked it up and unfolded it. It was a map which showed a way out of the tunnels towards a small human village, along with a name. Halmadir Buhan Everbloom...
NOW
Iron finished off the last black orc while Lillian walked through the butchered village. “Oh no...” she whispered. “They're monsters.” Iron said. “They don't deserve pity.” “Not them,” Lillian replied and walked over to a caged panther with a bruised paw. “You poor thing,” She said with concern as she opened the cage and began to heal its paw. “What did they do to you?” The panther purred and gave her a lick on her cheek which she repayed with a hug. Iron simply stared at her before he shook his head. “Humans...” he grunted and walked over to the chieftain's hut. He took some gold coins and supplies but stopped when he saw an idol and a red scarf. Iron picked it up and walked outside with both. The idol was the head of a Kraken, inlaid with golden eyes. “What are those?” Lillian asked as the panther walked with her. Iron sniffed at the scarf as memories came flooding back. “Do you... need a minute?” Lillian asked as she petted the large black cat. “This,” Iron said as he ignored her, “is a symbol of N'Zath, and this scarf belongs to the woman who destroyed my life.” He glared. “Anaise...” he crushed the idol with his bare hands and his unrestrained anger. “That bitch is here...”
TBC
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Post by Warhammer Gorvar on Jan 12, 2013 17:00:27 GMT 1
Chapter 11
Then
“Where is the talisman?!” the half-orc asked loudly as he raised the lizardman up by his collar and then proceeded to throw him. The lizardman rolled off the table as he was thrown across the room. The drunks cheered as the large half-orc was mopping the floor with him. A golden talisman fell off of the lizardman, which the half-orc picked up with a evil sneer. He put it away as he glared at his opponent. “Kill him!” he loudly demanded, and he threw the table at the wall, shattering it. The bloodied lizard slowly got up as he used the counter as a support. The half-orc growled and pushed one of his henchmen over. The henchmen grinned as he punched the lizard in the ribs. The lizard groaned as he tried to hold on... and saw a wine rack. Just as the henchman was about to strike again, he wrapped his tail around his wrist and slammed a bottle on his head which knocked the shady human out. “Get him!” The half-orc shouted, sending his other henchmen in. The lizardman picked his hat of the ground and started punching his way through them. He got one under the chin which send him flying into a pile of empty barrels. “You fools, use your swords!” the half-orc growled as he walked off. A rat creature in black robes and a red sash around his waist smirked as he drew his exotic looking blade and began swinging it around. The lizardman merely stared at the rat creature, until he sighed, annoyed, pulled his gun and shot it in the chest. Immediately he followed the half-orc outside as he threw a bag of coins at the cowering barman. “Sorry about the mess!” he called out.
The Half-orc smiled as he held the talisman in his hand. “Hey, Thorghal!” Gorvar shouted, making the half-orc turn around. The lizardman drew his sword from his hip and threw it away, along with his gun. He put up his fists as a challenge. Thorghal grinned as he also threw away his wicked blade. The two men neared each other. Gorvar’s face turned from determination to confusion when he pointed to Thorghal’s shoelaces. The half-orc looked down and received a punch in the face for it. As they fought, the half-orc began to obviously dominate. He punched the lizardman to the ground and began to strangle him. Gorvar choked as he tried to find something with his hands to strike the half-orc with – anything. He found a rock and smashed it against Thorghal’s temple and ran as fast as he could. He whistled loudly as a horse ran to him. Thorghal held the bleeding side of his head as he saw Gorvar jump on the horse. “Coward!” he laughed. “You bloody cow–” Gorvar grinned as he waved the talisman, wrapped up in his tail, and passed it on to his hands. He held it in the air as he rode out of the town. The half-orc roared out in anger as he also whistled, and summoned a dwarven-made carriage which required no horse but was just as fast as eight of them.
The chase went into the jungle as the carriage began to catch up to Gorvar’s mount. Several henchmen fired at him as Gorvar desperately tried to get away. However his horse got shot and with a terrible violence Gorvar fell into the green woods below… right into the open roof of a ruin. Did I mention this ruin still had active traps? No, well there were active traps… one of them a giant boulder. Gorvar ran as the boulder chased him through the ruin, barely dodging poison darts, deadly pitfalls and angry ex-lovers. All right, not the last one – Gorvar had no angry ex-lovers. Well there was one, but she wouldn’t likely be near any ancient ruins to scold him, being a goddess of the hunt and all, but that’s another story.
When the lizardman finally got out of the ruins, he took a moment to catch his breath and see if the talisman was still in his hands. With a small smile he looked at it. It was a golden Kraken head with red piercing eyes. Probably rubies, Gorvar thought as he went to put it away, but he stopped when he heard a gun click. “The talisman, Gorvar the bard,” Thor’ghal said as he pointed his gun at the back of Gorvar’s head. The lizardman sighed and turned around, hands raised. A halfling took the talisman from Gorvar as he gave it to his boss. The half-orc sneered again. “Once again I show you there is nothing you can possess that I can’t take away.” “The talisman belongs in a museum, Thor’ghal.” Gorvar glared. “So do you.” The half-orc aimed his gun at Gorvar. “Goodbye, Gorvar.” “Actually, it’s more like Hello, Gorvar the bard,” a voice said behind them. The henchmen turned around as one by one they were either slashed or shot down by magic bolts. A wizard took the talisman off the dead half-orc after he put his sword away.
Gorvar sighed and walked over. “You know I had them exactly where I wanted them, right?” “Oh obviously.” The half-elf wizard chuckled as he placed the talisman away. “That talisman–” Gorvar wanted to say. “Does not belong in a museum. The Bird and Lizardman College’s museum is not a proper place for this artifact.” The half-elf revealed a ring made of a strange metal. On it were a man with a strange bird on his shoulder and a strange hat on his head, and on the opposite side, a lizardman with a scroll. Gorvar raised his brow. “What is your name?” “Halmadir Buhan Everbloom.” He shook the lizardman’s hand. “But you can call me Buch.” “Oh, I read your ballad on the ‘City of the Lizardmen’!” Gorvar smiled.” I liked that.” “I liked your unique take on Golems in ‘Metal Gears’,” Buch replied.” I think this might be the beginning of a wonderful friendship.”
NOW
“Next time I see Buch, I’m going to punch him in the face,” Gorvar said as he and Clint hung upside down a tree. A tribe of feral orcs chanted around them as a large bonfire was lit. “I feel you, partner,” Clint replied. “ Little wager?” “Sure.” “Who do you think is the main course?” Clint asked. “You I think,” Gorvar replied as he tried to look at his fellow captive. “You got more meat on you, and I hear humans are quite easy to chew on.” Clint frowned. “Where did you hear that?” “Oh, around.” Gorvar smiled.
The chanting stopped as the orcs all turned in one direction and bowed deeply. A new visitor arrived in the village, along with her pack of large, white dogs with red ears. They snarled as drool fell from their hellish maws. She was a cleric, much like Lillian but instead of white she wore black, where Lillian was reserved in her clothing, this cleric revealed quite a bit of skin. Around her neck was a golden head with tentacles on it. A Kraken’s head. She seemed to sing a chant as the orcs fell silent and bowed even deeper. With a smile she lifted one orc’s head up by its chin and gave a evil looking smile before passing on, her hounds in tow. It was a dark chant with words neither Gorvar or Clint could understand. But they were dark words, evil words, words you heard in your nightmares. The jungle grew a little darker and quieter until she stopped singing.
“Well, well, well, what have we here?” the chanting woman said as she looked up at the two captives. With a mere flick of her hand, both were cut down and brought before her. “And who might you be?” “I’m Gorvar the bard,” Gorvar said.” At your service.” “I've heard of you.” she said as she lifted the lizardman’s chin up. “You're Everbloom’s friend, aren’t you?” “Yes, well… I have a life outside of him you know…” Gorvar rolled his eyes. “Do you?” she smirked and stood up. “And who are you?” she asked the gunslinger. He kept silent as he stared her down.
“Lady Anaise asked you question!” an orc said, and punched the man in the face. The white dogs barked loudly and went closer to the captives, but the cleric merely held up her hand as everything fell silent again. She looked at both for a moment, thinking. Eventually she sighed. “These two know nothing about what he's planning.” She looked to the chieftain. “Kill the human and bring him to the grand temple, the deader the better. N’Zath loves flesh.” “And the lizard?” the chieftain asked. “He's not even worth a scrap,” she giggled. She took Gorvar’s left hand and muttered a small spell. “The hell are you doing, la–” Gorvar stopped when he saw one finger on his hand fade away, and then another… An arrow struck the chieftain in the head and the camp burst into chaos. Clint took advantage of this and tackled the woman, before helping the shocked Gorvar to his feet.
“This way!” Lind fired another arrow. The duo ran into the jungle while Lind provided cover fire. “After them!” cleric Anaise shouted as the orcs and her hounds gave chase. But before they could get far, a pride of black panthers leaped out at them and attacked. “Neat trick!” Clint shouted as Lind climbed down and led the way to safety. “Had to give up a lot of fish for this though!” Lind replied. The three adventurers ran until they could not hear the sound of battle, or anything else. “We can rest here. The city is not too far off,” Lind said as he looked at Gorvar. “Gorv, you all right?” The bard looked at his hand, missing two fingers. “The hell did she do?” Clint asked. “I didn’t recognize the spell.” “I did…” Gorvar said softly. “Dispel magic…”
TBC
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Post by Warhammer Gorvar on Jan 14, 2013 9:34:06 GMT 1
Chapter 12
Then
The city burned as fire fell down from the skies and smashed into the once white buildings of Topica City. It was built along a mountainside and had several rings which served as protection from invasions of any scale. However none had expected a monster the size of a mountain to attack. The giant creature was the size of a hundred of the world’s largest towers. It lumbered forward as it easily kicked the city’s wall over and entered it. The beast looked like a large lizard man, but it had spikes that ran across its back and shorter arms. It roared out fire as small ant-like things fell from its skin and began attacking the defenders below. The newly constructed tanks, which the Alliance had spent half their treasury on, did seem to hurt the beast, but only slightly. A tank fired and soon became engulfed in the beast’s flame. The defenders, made up of all kinds of races, held back the ant creatures as the civilians tried to run for the boats and airships. Their leader was the ruler of Topica, King Link, first of his name, protector of the realm and lord over the northern continents. Like his men he was dressed in blue armour and had the snow bear as his battle standard. The overall banner of the Alliance, including the Varharim Unicorn on the opposite of the snow bear and the Van Xia Dragon in the center, also flew in the wind. But the Varharim and the line of Calious had been driven to a new life on airships, decades ago when their Kingdom burned, and only supported the Alliance now with said airships when it could, while the Van Xia were driven hard on their own borders.
“The hell is Admiral Redbeard with his naval support?!” Link growled as he looked over the battlefield from his tower higher up in the city. The gryphons mounted by dwarves flew down and rained fire on the creature as halflings in strange flying contraptions did the same from a lower altitude, providing the fighting men and women down below with air support during their street battle with the ant creatures. “The goblins are still escorting the refugee ships from Cape Shit-out-of-luck to Oakenshade’s retreat,” one of his officers said as he read a piece of paper with a printed-out series of dots and stripes. “It could take days before they get here.” “WE DO NOT HAVE DAYS!” the King shouted. Everyone in the room turned their head to their King, including the Bear guards dressed in plate armour. A messenger ran in, oblivious to the King’s reaction a mere moment before. “Sire, we lost the Iron Tank Company!” “Terrific...” he sighed. “This is, what, number seven now?” “Yes, sire,” the messenger replied. The King took a moment to think. He looked outside as he saw the giant creature rampage through his town as it smashed through buildings and took down the few aerial units he had. He knew this day had been coming, but he didn’t expect it to happen so soon. Gods be damned for their lack of timing at the end of days. “Tell the gryphon riders to fly back and escort the ships. The halfling squadrons are to commence firebombing the streets so we have more time.” “And the Civilians who are still caught in the crossfire?” the officer asked. The King merely looked at him. The officer nodded his head sadly and began pushing a button at different speeds as it made a beeping sound. He took another officer by the arm. “Lead the defense until I return,” he said, and walked downstairs. When he stepped outside, his bear guards walked with him as he made his way past the usual sights of war: soldiers preparing to go into the fray, saying goodbye to their loved ones, the wounded and dead being brought in. A horn blew as a unit of heavy Bear cavalry rode through the large gates to the lower levels to fight off the ant creatures. The people of the city dropped down on their knees when the King passed. On any other day he would’ve told them to rise to their feet with a smile, but not today. If he played his cards right, today would not even happen.
“Incoming!” a soldier shouted as a large fireball struck down from the skies and descended down below at a fast speed. The people scrambled as it came down with a heavy explosion… right on the tower where he had been mere moments ago. He heard people screaming as the tower collapsed down the mountain into the city itself. Smoke filled the air as the lament of the wounded and loved ones mixed with the distant but ever-closing reality of war. The King coughed as he tried to wipe the tears out of his eyes. Another fireball came and smashed against the cliff behind them, which sent the buildings there plummeting down toward them. Everyone ran to the higher levels as panic kicked in. I mean, you would right? Giant monster heading your way, fire balls of doom falling from the sodding sky. Would’ve gone through five layers of drawers myself. So of course, the King ran to his palace where the Queen and her high clerics were busy summoning the only tool they had: a giant dragon of their own. They were chanting on the top balcony as the King made his way up. Servants passed by carrying his silverware – you can't find any good help these days can you? – as a figure doomed up beside him. A hooded figure, with a long cat-like tail. “Solidwood Shade always has what you need,” it said. “Tell Oakenshade to get her lizard ass down here!” Link shouted. “Message for Vastra Oakenshade from King Link Black, Get your lizard ass down here.” The thing said. The King went to the royal bed chambers and found his child unattended in its crib. He was crying his lungs out when the King picked him up, trying to calm him down. “It’s alright, daddy is here…” Link smiled. “It’s okay.” A large flash of green lit the room as a lizardwoman wizard teleported inside the room. “I don’t care if you are a King or this is the end of days, I would rather not be called so rudely ever again,” Vastra said. “It is time. Hand me the child.” The King looked at his child one last time. “You're sure my child will–” “Your child will arrive near a friend of my parents, Buhan Everbloom. He had been informed beforehand that this might happen.” “Will he take care of my–” “Your child will be fine,” Vastra said. “He will be raised with a fine family, until one day he will have wanderlust and go off on adventures. We even made sure he'll find a nice cleric to fall in love with,” the lizardwoman said as she took the child and handed it to the catlike merchant. The baby started smiling as he pulled at its whiskers. The King took one last look at his son and stroked his cheek one last time. “I will never see my Lind grow up, lose his milk teeth. His first day at school, his first kiss with a girl…” He glared at Vastra.” You make sure he gets the best life ever. I swear if you don’t–” “He will be safe and away from harm,” she promised.” Buch wouldn’t want him anywhere near it.” “Then do it.” Vastra nodded. “Merchant, send a message to Buch. Tell him the baby will be there...” she added a letter with the baby's wraps... “along with details of the failed attack.” “Message for – OW! – Halmadir Buhan Everbloom OW! from Vastra OW Oakenshade,” the merchant said as the baby kept pulling. “Enclosed you will find a humOWn child with a letter. Please OW pick it OW! up. OW.” And in a blink of an eye, it disappeared. “And that is that…” Vastra said as she turned to see the King. “As for you… I’m sorry.” “I know what will happen,” Link said. The castle began to shake heavily, as a heavy roar sounded, along with the clutter of leathery wings. “Good luck.” “Farewell,” she replied and teleported off. Link stood in his room and looked at it one last time before he walked over to the balcony. When he got there he saw all the clerics dead and his wife barely breathing. He saw the dragon get torn in half by the giant monster as it aimed its sights at the castle. Link knelt down and held his wife as the creature’s maw filled with flame. “Is he safe..?” she asked. “He is.” He kissed her forehead. “He’s safe.” “Good,” she said and clung on to her husband. “I love you, Link.” “I love you to, Lillian.” He replied, and kissed her before both were engulfed in a ball of fire.
NOW
“Are we there yet?” Gorvar asked as they walked to the city. “No,” Lind replied. “Are we there yet?” Gorvar asked again. “I liked him better when he was depressed,” Clint added. “I liked you better with your hat,” Gorvar snapped back. “Also are we there yet?” “This is hell..” Clint sighed. “This is hell and I'm still walking around.” “I got a song about that.” Gorvar sang, “Walking around in my banana shoes! Fookin' around in my banana shoes! They go squish squish squ–” He stopped as the gunslinger was choking him. “ARE WE THERE YET?!” Clint shouted out loud. “LINDY!” a high pitched shout sounded through the jungle as a white blur tackled Lind down and kissed him deeply. “Guessing based on first base with Lillian, I think yes,” Gorvar replied.
A few hours later, Lind was cooking away as he shooed the kitchen staff out. “You don’t have to cook, you know,” a dwarf said as he walked over with a grin. “Iron, good to see you again. I chopped some onions for you and I am currently making sausages.” “Good,” Iron replied, and sat next to him. He waited for a moment as if he was looking for the right words. “Everyone is here except the half-elf.” “Buch will show up,” Lind replied. “He always does.” “ Aye, he does…” the dwarf sighed. Lind stopped stirring the sauce he was making and looked at Iron. “You aren’t worried, are you?” “What?! No! Fook off!” Iron shouted, and stormed off as if offended. Lind chuckled as he went back to cooking. He was about to stir his sauce again when two hands covered his face. “Guess who?” Lillian asked. “Hello sweety,” Lind replied with a smile and turned around to kiss his wife. Except he found her wearing nothing except an apron and a mischievous grin. Lind blushed heavily. “Urghm... sweety, people can walk in…” “Fifteen seconds,” she said as she kissed him deeply. “All I need.” Lind returned the kiss as they found a spot to… well you know. I’m not going to say it – all I’m saying is it was magic. We okay with that? Good, moving on!
TBC
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Post by Warhammer Gorvar on Jan 15, 2013 10:48:13 GMT 1
Chapter 14
Then
The sounds of chee... no, I’m not calling this chapter 13. I hate that number. When I was 13 it was the worst year of my life. Every time there was a Friday the 13th, I had the worst day ever. Got run over by three carts, failed every school test, my lover dumped me for a halfling. Fire and brimstone coming down from the skies! Rivers and seas boiling! Forty years of darkness! Earthquakes, volcanoes... the dead rising from the grave! Human sacrifice, dogs and cats living together... mass hysteria! … Okay maybe not the latter, but still pretty shitty days. …. All right, FINE!
Chapter 13
Then
A goblin who wore a black and white striped shirt inhaled deeply before he announced the beginning of the match. “Ladies and gentlemen… LLLLLEEEEEEEEEETS GET READY TO RUMBLEEEEEEEE!” The sounds of cheering went through the roof as the fight began in a large pit, the combatants fighting tooth and nail. Well, tooth and nail for the Cathir and other beastlike humanoids, and fire arms for a certain gun-wielding knight. The rules of the pit were simple. First rule, never talk about the pit. Second rule, NEVER talk about the pit. Third rule, fatalities are allowed but not on Fridays because nobody works on the weekends who will be willing to sacrifice their Saturday and Sundays cleaning up Poor Ol’ Pete’s skull juices off the carpet. Fourth Rule, if this is your first night in the fight pit you have to compete. Unless you don’t want to. A large knight covered in dark armour entered the fight pit through the secret tunnel as the gunslinger took out Razor the Ogre with a shot to the kneecaps. And no, the ogre wasn't called Razor for his razor-sharp wit. We don’t do that sort of humour here folks. Anyway the dark knight pushed his way through the mob. A man dropped his stein to the floor after being pushed and angrily drew his sword, demanding to know who had pushed him. When he turned, the knight was staring right at him, with two golden eyes that could pierce through a man’ soul. The man went to the floor begging for mercy. The dark knight must’ve been in a good mood since he ignored him and took a seat near the pit. He had his arms folded as the match below unfolded. The gunslinger slammed the end of his gun into the fish-like Naga’s face, sending it falling to the floor. The announcer goblin jumped down into the pit and used the defeated Naga as a support to reach the gunslinger’s arm. “The winner of this match. Raise your hands for SEEEEEEEEEEEEEER CLINT OF VARHARIIIIIM!” The crowd went wild as fans waved the Varharim unicorn with their tiny flags, or banners with “I heart Ser Clint” written on them. The gunslinger took a moment to seep in the glory before he saw the dark knight in the crowd. The figure unfolded his arms and walked off. Clint sighed as he walked out of the pit through one of the exits, while the clerics began healing the wounded and a sole necromancer began collecting the body parts of his champion, again.
Clint was having a drink in his private room when the knight came in and closed the door behind him. “Howdy, Ser Knight,” Clint said, tipping his hat before he took a big gulp from his bottle of rum. “My lord,” the knight said with a deep voice, as though he spoke through a tunnel. “I ain't no lord.” Clint glared at the dark knight. “I'm the evil child, remember?” “Your father had no wish for you to be exiled… nor did he wish the name of Calious to be pulled through the mud in these cage matches,” the knight said as he remained stood. “I’ve been learning from my mistake,” Clint glared. “And my brother did enough to destroy the family name. How many nephews or nieces appeared since I left? Did he even marry their mothers first?” “As you say, my lord.” The knight bowed. “But that is not why I'm here.” “Has my brother screwed up yet?” Clint asked. “King Calious is still ruling strong and well,” the knight replied. “Of course he does.” Clint took another gulp. “So, why are you here then?” “King Calious is going to finance a large expedition to Aourigha. He wants you to be with the scouting force.” Clint finished his drink before he threw it in the air and shattered it with one quick shot from his side arm. “Tell him to go fook himself,” Clint replied as he pulled out a white tube full of tobacco from his vest. As he searched for a light, the knight held out his hand which summoned a small fireball. Clint frowned a little but took the light anyways. “Thanks.” “You're welcome.” The knight dispelled the fireball. “But I rather wish you'd reconsider.” “What for?” The gunslinger exhaled gray smoke. “What do I get out of this?” “A chance to come home, have a lady wife, a castle and a portion of the treasure of Afrikyah.”
Clint coughed as he heard the news. “Afrikyah? Is he serious?!” “Most. He hired the Fellowship of the Blue Lady.” The knight patted the gunslinger on the back. “Are you all right, my lord?” “Fine.” Clint coughed once. “The Fellowship of the Blue Lady? Those…sick freaks?!” “I take that term slightly personally, my lord,” the knight said in the same monotone voice which nowhere hinted at feeling hurt for the insult, “but yes, them.” Clint pondered as he paced through his room. “Why me?” “A chance to redeem yourself. Your brother may have aided the Calious bloodline rather well with numbers but you are his brother and you have done enough penance for that mistake six years ago,” Ser Knight replied. “I might be biased, due to my spell which allowed me to serve your family so faithfully, but you are still Calious by blood. And the Caliouses–” “Look after their own.” Clint finished his House’s words. “I remember.” “But it is a chance to come home. To be redeemed,” Ser Knight said. “And is not that what you wanted? A chance?” Clint nodded. He longed to go home again to the green fields of Vaharim. To see the Royal Castle again with its tapestries and torches. To look into the eyes of his peers and be forgiven. He didn’t even care about the money. “Fine.” Clint agreed.” Where do I go?” “There is a boat in Brugge that leaves in a week. If I were you I would make haste.” “Yup, I will,” Clint said as he stood up. “Thank you Ser Knight.” With that he walked off to get his things. “You are welcome, my lord,” the knight replied as his golden eyes followed Ser Clint out the room…with a hint of regret.
Now
Buch entered the main hall of the Town Palace as the guards saluted him. He nodded with a smile as he saw his friends all safe and sound. “My friends, good to see you all.” He smiled as he walked over and a took a seat. “The hell have you been?” Clint asked with his arms folded. “Oh, around,” Buch said as he took out a new pipe and lit it. “How do you mean, around?” Lind asked. “Oh my. This is a good time for some smoke rings wouldn’t you say?” he said as he began blowing out a ring. Iron did not flinch before he snatched the pipe and snapped it in half. Before Buch could utter a protest, Lind threw a golden Kraken head in front of Buch on the table. “Talk, now.” Iron glared.
Buch looked to Gorvar for help, but saw him looking at him helplessly. Buch looked at his friend’s left hand and saw the reason why he was subdued: he was missing two fingers. A small moment of fear went through him. 'He knew,' Buch said to himself. He looked away as he began telling his tale. First things first. “I came across bad company when I set out to find Tillian.” He motioned to the elf who was sat painting.” A powerful mage at King Calious’ right hand is plotting to kill us. I had trouble shaking him and his friends off, hence it took me so long to come here. He is part of a cult who worship the old god of power, N’Zath. I believe some of you remember this god from previous adventures you've had on your own?” “Most of us have,” Gorvar said. “Except for Lind, Lillian and Clint. Must be a human thing.” “Somehow, I ain't sad to hear it,” Clint replied. “The hell is N’Zath anyway?” “I can answer that.” Buch said. “N’Zath was one of the first gods known to exist since the creation of this universe. He and several others like him were the ones who created worlds such as ours. Over time he populated this world with smaller gods to bless it with life.” “How did he do it alone?” Lillian asked.” Didn’t he need a mate?” “No. Asexually,” Tillian said from her corner. “Where's the fun in that?” Lillian pondered. “So, why is a cult for a god who gave us life going after us?” Iron asked. “After millennia, N’zath went insane from being alone and buried so deep under the ground. He created a new race, completely to his own image, and began attacking the surface world. Nobody knows why. Maybe he wanted to start anew, maybe he didn’t like how his first children had handled things… or maybe he just wanted to see the world burn.” Buch rubbed his chin. “In the end only an alliance of all our gods and mortal heroes were able to seal away N’zath into the planet’s core where he still lies to this day.” Clint looked at the party. “You all believe that bullshit?” “Sounds plausible,” Lind said. “We've all seen some pretty weird things.” “So if the gods sealed him away… why aren’t they helping us now?” Lillian asked. “After the war, the gods were drained of their powers and were forced to life on another plane of existence. So they cannot help us directly, save for magic spells which they grant to clerics, necromancers, wizards…” “How does this thing come into place in all of this?” Iron tapped the golden Kraken head. “The cult wants to see the world end. And they wish to free N’Zath to make it so,” Buch replied.” I believe Calious was tricked when he sent us to find the Lost City of Afrikyah. Instead of just treasure, it’s also a gateway to the core of the world where N’Zath is. Guessing why it was so technologically advanced and later destroyed – it must’ve been because they drew magic directly from N’Zath and used it for their own. Until it exploded in their faces, of course,” he chuckled but stopped when he saw nobody laughing. “If the cult gets their hands on that portal… it’s all over for us.” The fellowship stared at Buch for a while as it all sank in. “Well….that sucks.” Gorvar finally said. “So, plan?” “We find the Lost City first and destroy any access to the gateway,” Buch replied. “So after all of this, we don’t get paid?” Iron asked. Buch nodded which made the dwarf grab the table and flip it over before storming off. When he came back later with bruised knuckles and painful groans of a wounded goblin. Nobody seemed to care. “I’m not forcing any of you into this,” Buch said. “If you want to leave now… I don’t blame you.” He stood up. “We'd best sleep a night on it. Right now… I think me and Gorvar need to talk.” The fellowship, even Tillian, left the room.
A few hours later, a knock was on Tillian’s door. She put away her book as she stood up from her bed and walked over to the door. When she opened it she was greeted by the sight of a drunken lizardman with missing fingers. “H-hey you...” Gorvar smirked as he took a sip from his wine bottle. “Hello,” Tillian replied. “You are drunk.” “And you are BEAUTIFUL!” Gorvar replied with a smirk. “But you are so completely right. You know you have pointy ears like a goblin? Not that I’m saying you're a goblin... well if you ware then you are one gods-damned pretty looking– squirrel!” He looked around as if he saw something. “Can I come in?” Tillian nodded as Gorvar stumbled in and closed the door. “What happened?” “Buch told me a secret.” Gorvar took another swig. “He said it wasn’t pretty. And you know what...” he took another sip as he sat on Tillian’s bed. “He’s right. Been drinking ever since.” Tillian took her seat next to Gorvar. “Drinking is counter productive to anything which requires problem solving.” “There is no problem to be solved, Tillian,” Gorvar replied as he seemed to sober up. “I just…” he looked at his left hand. “I just want to feel something real.” She looked at him strangely.” Elaborate.”
He placed the bottle down on the night table. “When you are near me, I feel...” he was groping for words. “I feel like I have a purpose.” He looked at her. “When I’m with you and the others, I feel like I am a person. Living, breathing. Real.” He placed his head in his hands. “I want to be real. I want to feel something real. I don’t want to be some ghost living in the shadows, some dream people remember fondly… or hate, if you are Iron. Bearded son of a–” “Gorvar.” She took his head gently and turned it so he could see her. “I see you. You are here, you are real.” For the first time in centuries, she gave another living person a small smile. She leaned in and kissed him. This was the moment she knew was coming. In five minutes she would make love to him, they would finish in eight minutes and proceed in ten again. In seven hours the others would congratulate them on their relationship before they made a choice concerning the lost city. In five days, she would hold her lover’s dying body. TBC
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Post by Warhammer Gorvar on Jan 16, 2013 0:40:01 GMT 1
Chapter 14
Buch finally found a working pipe and lit it. After the day he'd had today, he felt like he needed a smoke now more than ever. He was on the outside balcony as he looked up into the stars. Already he was calculating how much time he had to stop the cycle. A week? he thought. Less than that, probably. Still, there was time. And he could trust in his fellowship. Most of them. “Got a light?” Clint asked as he came onto the balcony. “Of course,” Buch replied and held out a fireball which Clint used to light his smoke. “Thanks,” Clint said before he took a moment to enjoy his cigarette. “Hell of a night.” “Yes,” Buch replied as he looked at the gunslinger suspiciously. The gunslinger looked right back at him. “I know what you're thinking,” Clint said. “And I know what the others don’t.” He inhaled one last time before he threw the smoke down on the ground and stepped on it. “Go on, ask, old timer.” “What's the question?” Buch asked. “Don’t play dumb. I’m not like the dwarf or the lizardman, or any of those people.” Clint glared. Buch nodded as he doused his own pipe. “All right… me first, then. Why is King Calious’ exiled brother here with us?” “You know the answer?” Clint asked. “I know an answer.” The half elf said. “But sometimes there is more than one answer in one question. So how about we make a deal? One of us asks a question and the other replies. Sounds fair doesn’t it?” “We’ll see how long it stays that way,” Clint replied as he leaned on the pillar. “Fine. One answer is that my brother promised me I could return home to Varharim, another is riches and the other, well…” Clint took out his fire arm and checked its contents as he rolled the ammo chamber around. “That's my business. My turn: who are you really? And none of this wizard who happened to be there when the time was right to help these people. You chose them. Why?” Buch leaned back. “I chose them because they're the best. The best tracker, the best healer, the most skilled mage, the most seasoned warrior…” “Not the bard,” Clint said.” He's here for another reason. Why?” “That is another question,” Buch said. “Me first. How long did you know your brother was going to screw us over?” “Just as long as you did,” Clint replied with a glare. “Since Killgrave and the slave ship. And we both know he's a pawn who lets his greed take the best of him. This cult is pulling his strings. A cult that you have been fighting for two hundred years, if reports are to be believed. Which ties back to Gorvar.” The gunslinger folded his arms. “Gorvar?” Buch asked. “I did a job in the Bird and Lizardman College a few months back and I saw their register. They got a selected number of actual lizardmen in their number, and the last one was a man called Gorvar who died 179 years ago.” He walked over to Buch now. “Yes, I saw through the forgeries you made. After all, who but you is old enough to remember that funeral?” Buch stood up as he looked away from Clint. He leaned on the balcony and looked up. “If you knew this from before, why didn’t you tell anyone?” “You owe me a answer first,” Clint said.” I'm waiting.” Buch took a moment to gather his thoughts. “I was part of a group of adventurers two hundred years ago. Good people, all of them. I met Gorvar when he tried to steal a talisman of N’Zath from its cultists. It’s because of that talisman that we found out about the cult and its plans. They found a temple, similar to the Lost City, and they were trying to open a gateway. We stopped them, but at a heavy cost. Half of us died… including Gorvar who saved my life by taking a spear in the gut for me.” He looked back at the gunslinger. “I owe him.” “Who's this Gorvar then?” Clint asked. “A few years back, I found out about the Lost City from… sources,” Buch replied. “And I am the last one left of that old group. So I began assembling this fellowship… and I recreated an old friend using old magic.” “Why? You no doubt had a bad ass warrior or some mage or something in your old group. Why him? Why waste your magic on a construct of a bard?” “I have my reasons,” Buch replied. “And I shall leave it at that if you don’t mind, Ser.” “I do mind, but I know it’s no use taking an angry bull by the horns.” Clint dusted his hat off. “Why ever would you want to do that?” the half-elf asked. “Hell if I know. You were probably around when that saying came out – you tell me.” The gunslinger placed his hat back on. “And I believe I still owe you an answer as to why I didn’t tell anyone about Gorvar. He’s a good man. Annoying, stupid, loud… but he has his heart in the right spot… or whatever magic substitute you used.” The half-elf nodded. “So, you feel like we cleared the air a little?” “A little,” the gunslinger replied. “You still use these people as pawns. But unlike other wizards, or kings, you care about your pawns. In this world, it’s the best to hope for.” “And you're all right with being called a pawn, are you?” Buch asked. “I ain't no pawn,” the gunslinger replied. “I’m nowhere near your board, old timer.” “Then what are you?” Buch asked. “A second player,” Clint replied as he turned to leave. He stopped and turned around. “One last question. How did half your group die two hundred years ago?” Buch took up his staff and walked toward him. “Betrayal,” the wizard replied, as he walked on to his room.
Meanwhile
“They got away?!” the Glowing elf shouted. The men-at-arms all grew quiet and looked away as the elf shone ever so brightly in his anger. “Look, I didn’t know who they were…” Anais replied as she took a sip from her wine glass, “...and quite frankly I don’t care. They're all dead in a week anyway.” Her white dogs growled at the Glowing elf but hushed when their mistress stroked their heads. “One of 'em was a stunty,” said the orc warchief called Gorgutz. He was dressed in black plate armour and a viking styled helmet. “A survivor from 'is attack said he was with a Cleric an’ a panther. He said he knew ya.” “How?” the glowing figure asked. “Mistress Anais left one o’ ‘er scarfs behind after visitin’ dat village,” Gorgutz replied.
“Why?” the Glowing figure asked. “For dem shrooms.” Gorgutz tilted his head – Anais the Chantress was eating one at the moment. “Anais you fool! Now they know you are here!” “Ah, put a sock in it Glow-glow…” Anais said in a slow manner, as she seemed a bit disoriented. “You already screwed up by letting Everbloom go… and why do you look like a dog anyway?” “Because…” Glow replied as he tried to restrain his anger, but failed, “you are TALKING TO ONE OF YOUR DOGS!” He snatched the mushrooms from her. “Heeeeey…..” she moaned as her hounds growled at him. “Give them back.”
The three bickered until all the flames in the camp went out and a chill wind went through to their bones, killing all the noise and warmth around them. Everyone, even Anais, grew scared. “You fools….” A low and grumbling voice shook the ground as one of the Varharim men-at-arms dropped down dead. The ground kept shuddering as the dead man slowly stood up again and stared at them with his glowing golden eyes. “I feel Everbloom here. He must not intervene!” “He won’t, master.” They all knelt before the talking corpse as the elf spoke. “Our source on the inside says the Cape is not ready for a siege and our pawn will attack it in the next day! We can get the corpses needed for the ritual and kill them all in one strike, now they are weak!” “You should have killed them when they were divided!” The corpse took the glowing figure by his throat and lifted him up. “I have been denied my freedom for too long!” The Glowing elf clamped onto the dead man’s arm. “Please my Master… mercy! I can serve you still!” “You will…” the dead man said as he dropped the Glowing elf on the ground. “The attack must be done by tomorrow evening, I want their heads delivered to me within the week!” “Yes, Our Lord and Master,” they all said.” Your wish is our purpose.” The corpse hissed until it fell down on the ground and rotted in a blink of an eye. The Glowing elf gasped for air as he crawled back onto his feet. He shrugged off a guard who tried to help him and glared at the informant. “You. I want the city’s defenses down by tomorrow eve!” He stepped over to the goblin. “Or else instead of gold you'll get the same fate as that!” he pointed to the bubbling mess that once was a man. “Don’t yer worry.” The goblin bowed deeply. “Captain Redbeard never lets yer down.”
TBC
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