Our group of brave warriors (and one elderly woman) successfully managed to free the village, its inhabitants, the smith, and everyone else in the surrounding forests from the undead plague initiated by the witch and her son.
As the bedraggled group arrives back in the village early in the morning the brave dwarf Torkam (Son of Darkon) invites them into his humble (temporary) abode (the town hall) and heals their wounds and soothes their souls. Due to his close connection with the mighty god Moradin (all praise to Moradin!), he immediately feels the dark and evil incarnation of death in some of his fellow group members. Luckily (all praise to Moradin!) he can channel Moradin's divine power and remove the dirty stain of death from those who were inflicted with it (of course, the Demon showed no signs of influence by the deathly sins; surprise? I think not!!).
After Torkam (Son of Darkon) got rid of the last signs of death (the old lady was particularly inflicted) he insists to check out Ground Zero of the deathly plague, to make sure none of it will ever rise again. Upon returning to the hut the group finds the following:
- herbs, medicine, poison (6 times, 1D3 damage per round for one minute, CON save: DC12)
- a book illustrating local herbs and plants (30GP)
- a book about mummification (45GP)
- a book set about her evil God (100GP)
- oil painting of her son (25GP).
Upon feeling the evil in the house, Torkam (Son of Darkon) suggest to immediately burn down the house and all its contents (especially the (un)dead bodies). After removing anything remotely valuable the feisty wizard happily starts throwing fireballs into the house, until there is nothing left but scorched earth.
The group returns back to the village in the evening and is offered 50GP per person by the grateful mayor for all the work they have done and the dangers they have endured. Tired but happy (except for the wizard who is cranky most of the time, the old lady who keeps babbling about weird stuff, the ranger who is just generally unhappy, and the demon who is a demon and therefore rarely happy by definition) they settle down for another long rest.
Friday, 26 April 2019
Tuesday, 12 March 2019
Skamos, always the stranger
The door to the inn creaked ominously, but the interior and the locals looked amiable enough at first glance. At least as amiable as he could expect as someone with red skin and horns, a look generally not often found in these lands. He entered the taproom and, as he was used to, the room fell silent. He said a friendly greeting, put on a casual smile, and walked to a free table at the far end of the room near the bar. He could feel all eyes on him, something that he got used to over the years. He put his sling bag next to him, just so that the neck of his lute stuck out. He looked into the room in front of him. A lot of commoners, farmers or craftsmen, and only one other single individual, maybe a travelling merchant by the looks of it. As far as he could determine, none of the thugs of the local government. Good.
A barmaid approached him warily. He could see that the older barmaid and the landlord had sent her, the youngest, to deal with the scary stranger. "Hello traveller. Do you want something to eat or drink?". He smiled at her and with his dark melodic voice asked "I would love to. If the food in this inn is as good as its barmaids, I'll have to order more than intended. What can you offer young lady?". She smiled shyly. "Oh, thank you. We have a simple rabbit stew tonight and it is definitely tastier than me" she said and suddenly jumped in horror "Oh sorry, I ... I didn't mean ... I mean, I didn't want to suggest you eatin' someone ... I'm sorry. So sorry ...". She started to turn away from him when he chuckled and smiled comfortingly at her "Don't worry, I'll only eat nasty children and mothers-in-law that people offer voluntarily". As he winked at her, she started laughing as well, the nervousness slowly subsiding. "I'll have a large portion of the stew then and a mug of your best ale." She gave him a wide grin "A very good choice! And I'll ask Soren, our chef, whether there are any mothers-in-law he could offer on the side!".
The taproom was back at its usual noise level when she came back with a steaming clay pot and a mug. "There we go!". "Thank you very much .... what is your name, if I may ask?" "You may! I'm Brenna, the daughter of Lennis, who runs this inn." She pointed at the man behind the bar who nodded in return. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Brenna. I'm Skamos. One question, would it be possible to acquire a room for the night?" "Oh, sure, I'll ask Lennis." She looked at the neck of the lute sticking out of the bag. "Are you a travelling bard?" "I am indeed!" Her look became hopeful. "Would you play for us tonight or tell us stories from far away? We do not get many visitors, especially not on days when snatch wagons are said to come through. Usually, people try to hide away, lest they are taken as well." He looked up. "Snatch wagons? You mean the prison transports?" "Yes, but they don't only take prisoners no more. If we don't have prisoners, they often take one of us. Say that a quota has to be met and we are all guilty of something. These are dangerous times, they are!". "They surely are. But if I can lighten the mood or lift some spirits, I'm happy to play some music after the meal."
After he had finished the stew and oiled his throat with the quite heavy ale, he took out his pan flute, leaned back, and started to play a well-known folk song. After the first few notes, heads lifted and turned to look at him and he could see the occasional smile as the melody was recognised. It was a song about a plentiful harvest in happy times. He switched to a more juicy song about a barmaid and a stranger and winked to Brenna who turned a deep shade of red. He could feel the room now. Some people starting singing or humming. He could hear laughter. The room warmed up to him. Time to work his magic.
Two hours and a lot of ale later, the room had gathered around him. His magic had worked. The crowd was captivated, some even enthralled by his music and his dark voice. He had switched to his lute and was singing songs from far-away lands, about longing for freedom, or the ocean, or the girl next door. Only a few customers had stayed back at the far end and still eyed him over their mugs. But he didn't care. He had managed to befriend the people. They loved him by now. Some even had left and came back with friends or family. Lennis had even offered to bring food and beer for free if only he'd continue to sing. He, of course, happily obliged. A friendly town would mean he could stay for a while and maybe even earn his lodgings. Maybe a few nights in a bed and not some stable or shack.
Sound woke him from a nice dream. Before he could identify what it was, a leather strap was forced over his face into his mouth to pin him to the bed and stop him from speaking or screaming. Other hands had caught his legs and arms before he could react and started to bind him. So much for managing to become friends, he thought. He heard someone say that at least they now have someone to offer to the snatchers. Of course. He could not even resent them. If there is a chance that someone of your friends could be taken, the decision is always the same. Take the weird looking guy. Take the stranger.
---
The cart rumbled along the rutty path and Skamos looked at the three humans that huddled together on the other side of the cage. "Don't worry, I won't eat you. I'm an innocent victim as much as you!" The guys nodded but gave no sign that they believe him. He thought back to the time when he was standing in the realm of Phlegethos in the 4th level of Hell, overlooking the fields of fire. He was a warrior in the army of Fierna fighting in the Blood War. Yes, that was the time when humans should have feared him. But that was almost 30 years ago. Times change. He had brought enough creatures into the grasp of Fierna to be allowed to roam the mortal plane. And this had changed him. Living alone, being despised by most creatures you meet, had changed him. His kind are widely dispersed in these lands - he only has met a handful of Tieflings on his travel - and the only aim by now was to survive. People did not trust him because of his appearance and he did not trust people because his trust was always broken. He did not hate them for it, he could even understand it to a degree. His kind did cause enough suffering. Other lords were not so subtle as Fierna.
He sighed and leaned back against the cage. He saw that the villagers had handed all his stuff to his captors who threw it onto the waggon. They were survivors, not thieves after all. But that meant his instruments were still within reach and there might be a chance at the next stop to find, if not friends, at least allies. Although he usually took not much interest in the politics of this realm, the queen and her thugs really started to get on his nerves.
A barmaid approached him warily. He could see that the older barmaid and the landlord had sent her, the youngest, to deal with the scary stranger. "Hello traveller. Do you want something to eat or drink?". He smiled at her and with his dark melodic voice asked "I would love to. If the food in this inn is as good as its barmaids, I'll have to order more than intended. What can you offer young lady?". She smiled shyly. "Oh, thank you. We have a simple rabbit stew tonight and it is definitely tastier than me" she said and suddenly jumped in horror "Oh sorry, I ... I didn't mean ... I mean, I didn't want to suggest you eatin' someone ... I'm sorry. So sorry ...". She started to turn away from him when he chuckled and smiled comfortingly at her "Don't worry, I'll only eat nasty children and mothers-in-law that people offer voluntarily". As he winked at her, she started laughing as well, the nervousness slowly subsiding. "I'll have a large portion of the stew then and a mug of your best ale." She gave him a wide grin "A very good choice! And I'll ask Soren, our chef, whether there are any mothers-in-law he could offer on the side!".
The taproom was back at its usual noise level when she came back with a steaming clay pot and a mug. "There we go!". "Thank you very much .... what is your name, if I may ask?" "You may! I'm Brenna, the daughter of Lennis, who runs this inn." She pointed at the man behind the bar who nodded in return. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Brenna. I'm Skamos. One question, would it be possible to acquire a room for the night?" "Oh, sure, I'll ask Lennis." She looked at the neck of the lute sticking out of the bag. "Are you a travelling bard?" "I am indeed!" Her look became hopeful. "Would you play for us tonight or tell us stories from far away? We do not get many visitors, especially not on days when snatch wagons are said to come through. Usually, people try to hide away, lest they are taken as well." He looked up. "Snatch wagons? You mean the prison transports?" "Yes, but they don't only take prisoners no more. If we don't have prisoners, they often take one of us. Say that a quota has to be met and we are all guilty of something. These are dangerous times, they are!". "They surely are. But if I can lighten the mood or lift some spirits, I'm happy to play some music after the meal."
After he had finished the stew and oiled his throat with the quite heavy ale, he took out his pan flute, leaned back, and started to play a well-known folk song. After the first few notes, heads lifted and turned to look at him and he could see the occasional smile as the melody was recognised. It was a song about a plentiful harvest in happy times. He switched to a more juicy song about a barmaid and a stranger and winked to Brenna who turned a deep shade of red. He could feel the room now. Some people starting singing or humming. He could hear laughter. The room warmed up to him. Time to work his magic.
Two hours and a lot of ale later, the room had gathered around him. His magic had worked. The crowd was captivated, some even enthralled by his music and his dark voice. He had switched to his lute and was singing songs from far-away lands, about longing for freedom, or the ocean, or the girl next door. Only a few customers had stayed back at the far end and still eyed him over their mugs. But he didn't care. He had managed to befriend the people. They loved him by now. Some even had left and came back with friends or family. Lennis had even offered to bring food and beer for free if only he'd continue to sing. He, of course, happily obliged. A friendly town would mean he could stay for a while and maybe even earn his lodgings. Maybe a few nights in a bed and not some stable or shack.
Sound woke him from a nice dream. Before he could identify what it was, a leather strap was forced over his face into his mouth to pin him to the bed and stop him from speaking or screaming. Other hands had caught his legs and arms before he could react and started to bind him. So much for managing to become friends, he thought. He heard someone say that at least they now have someone to offer to the snatchers. Of course. He could not even resent them. If there is a chance that someone of your friends could be taken, the decision is always the same. Take the weird looking guy. Take the stranger.
---
The cart rumbled along the rutty path and Skamos looked at the three humans that huddled together on the other side of the cage. "Don't worry, I won't eat you. I'm an innocent victim as much as you!" The guys nodded but gave no sign that they believe him. He thought back to the time when he was standing in the realm of Phlegethos in the 4th level of Hell, overlooking the fields of fire. He was a warrior in the army of Fierna fighting in the Blood War. Yes, that was the time when humans should have feared him. But that was almost 30 years ago. Times change. He had brought enough creatures into the grasp of Fierna to be allowed to roam the mortal plane. And this had changed him. Living alone, being despised by most creatures you meet, had changed him. His kind are widely dispersed in these lands - he only has met a handful of Tieflings on his travel - and the only aim by now was to survive. People did not trust him because of his appearance and he did not trust people because his trust was always broken. He did not hate them for it, he could even understand it to a degree. His kind did cause enough suffering. Other lords were not so subtle as Fierna.
He sighed and leaned back against the cage. He saw that the villagers had handed all his stuff to his captors who threw it onto the waggon. They were survivors, not thieves after all. But that meant his instruments were still within reach and there might be a chance at the next stop to find, if not friends, at least allies. Although he usually took not much interest in the politics of this realm, the queen and her thugs really started to get on his nerves.
Monday, 11 March 2019
No Good Deed
Dagni did not like this place. When the mercenary trio accepted the job of rounding up some of the outlying villagers for the bigwigs, he had hoped they would send them to some nice coastal town. Instead they were sent to this damp foggy marshy woodland. Needless to say, he was not happy.
"Oi! Stop the cart, I got ta take a leak!" Baren bellowed from the behind the cage they were hauling. Dagni groaned but stopped the horses pulling the cart. He hoped Baren would be quick, the constant sobbing from the cage's inhabitants had begun to wear on his nerves. "Hurry up ye git!" Girin shouted, also striking the cage with his mace in an attempt to quell the constant whimpering from the fresh slaves. Baren simply muttered something before disappearing into the fog.
"Got a dragon bladder that one." Girin remarked after several minutes of waiting for Baren. "Aye, he drinks like one as-" Dagni began but was suddenly interrupted by a shrill scream that set both dwarves on edge. "What in Morghesa's tits was that?!" Dagni spat while frenetically looking around. "Stay here." Girin said, climbing down from the cart and motioning for Dagni to stay put. He saw Girin wander off into the woods, followed shortly by a shout and a loud crash.
"Damnation." Dagni muttered quickly climbing down and shuffling after Baren. A childlike laughter had started to eminate from Girin's direction. Dagni swore as he called after Girin in a low voice. The laughter had started to echo all around him now and he broke into a sprint towards the woods ahead. Suddenly he tripped, he braced himself for impact but it didn't come when expected. Indeed, it took far longer than he expected and he landed in a hole several feet deep with a bone crunching crash, together with the unconscious body of Girin.
Tristan Von Leytal peered over the hole at the dwarf spewing profanities. "That went better than expected but as predicted." he thought, adjusting a pair of round spectacles. He decided to leave them down there. If they were lucky someone would come and fish them out, if not, well there was probably some good karmic reason for it. He strolled in the direction of their cart filled with prisoners. Tristan didn't really look the part of the hero, being rather bookish, pale, and with a mop of brown hair. Not the kind of heroic figure they would write songs about. Still, he had a legacy to live up to.
His grandfather had been a great hero who had tried to stop the rise of the evil regime currently in power. Sadly he was thwarted in his decisive moment. Their family had suffered dogged persecution for attempting to foil Morghesa but his grandfather's books had contained a wealth of arcane knowledge his family had used to survive. Nowadays Tristan was happy to follow in his grandfather's footsteps, foiling the queen and assisting what villagers he could.
He approached the cage filled with captives, surprised that a scrawny man with a big hat had returned instead of their dwarven captors. "Y'all don't need to worry. I'm gonna set you loose." Tristan said airily. He furrowed his brows as he looked at the lock. Not too difficult, a simple design. He pulled out a crystalline orb and recited the words for an unlocking spell. A loud bang emanated through his head. "Strange..." he thought. "I hadn't finished casting yet." He looked up to see the blurry horrified faces of the prisoners before his vision was swallowed by a sea of black.
---
The first thing Tristan felt was pain. Primarily in his head but then also in his ribs, probably from dwarven retribution. When he came to, he noted that he was bound, gagged, and had now joined his intended rescueés in the cage he was unlocking. He looked around and saw that he had missed a dwarf, with the other two dwarves now retrieved from the hole he had created glaring daggers at him. "Should have known dwarves always come in odd numbers." he thought to himself. He concluded with a final mumbled "Bugger." before slipping back into unconsciousness.
"Oi! Stop the cart, I got ta take a leak!" Baren bellowed from the behind the cage they were hauling. Dagni groaned but stopped the horses pulling the cart. He hoped Baren would be quick, the constant sobbing from the cage's inhabitants had begun to wear on his nerves. "Hurry up ye git!" Girin shouted, also striking the cage with his mace in an attempt to quell the constant whimpering from the fresh slaves. Baren simply muttered something before disappearing into the fog.
"Got a dragon bladder that one." Girin remarked after several minutes of waiting for Baren. "Aye, he drinks like one as-" Dagni began but was suddenly interrupted by a shrill scream that set both dwarves on edge. "What in Morghesa's tits was that?!" Dagni spat while frenetically looking around. "Stay here." Girin said, climbing down from the cart and motioning for Dagni to stay put. He saw Girin wander off into the woods, followed shortly by a shout and a loud crash.
"Damnation." Dagni muttered quickly climbing down and shuffling after Baren. A childlike laughter had started to eminate from Girin's direction. Dagni swore as he called after Girin in a low voice. The laughter had started to echo all around him now and he broke into a sprint towards the woods ahead. Suddenly he tripped, he braced himself for impact but it didn't come when expected. Indeed, it took far longer than he expected and he landed in a hole several feet deep with a bone crunching crash, together with the unconscious body of Girin.
Tristan Von Leytal peered over the hole at the dwarf spewing profanities. "That went better than expected but as predicted." he thought, adjusting a pair of round spectacles. He decided to leave them down there. If they were lucky someone would come and fish them out, if not, well there was probably some good karmic reason for it. He strolled in the direction of their cart filled with prisoners. Tristan didn't really look the part of the hero, being rather bookish, pale, and with a mop of brown hair. Not the kind of heroic figure they would write songs about. Still, he had a legacy to live up to.
His grandfather had been a great hero who had tried to stop the rise of the evil regime currently in power. Sadly he was thwarted in his decisive moment. Their family had suffered dogged persecution for attempting to foil Morghesa but his grandfather's books had contained a wealth of arcane knowledge his family had used to survive. Nowadays Tristan was happy to follow in his grandfather's footsteps, foiling the queen and assisting what villagers he could.
He approached the cage filled with captives, surprised that a scrawny man with a big hat had returned instead of their dwarven captors. "Y'all don't need to worry. I'm gonna set you loose." Tristan said airily. He furrowed his brows as he looked at the lock. Not too difficult, a simple design. He pulled out a crystalline orb and recited the words for an unlocking spell. A loud bang emanated through his head. "Strange..." he thought. "I hadn't finished casting yet." He looked up to see the blurry horrified faces of the prisoners before his vision was swallowed by a sea of black.
---
The first thing Tristan felt was pain. Primarily in his head but then also in his ribs, probably from dwarven retribution. When he came to, he noted that he was bound, gagged, and had now joined his intended rescueés in the cage he was unlocking. He looked around and saw that he had missed a dwarf, with the other two dwarves now retrieved from the hole he had created glaring daggers at him. "Should have known dwarves always come in odd numbers." he thought to himself. He concluded with a final mumbled "Bugger." before slipping back into unconsciousness.
Sunday, 10 March 2019
The patient monk who was an impatient bard
Besouro was trained since he was a kid at the monastery of the Capoeira Monks. This monastery, once secluded and very selective with their attendees, opened their doors to new practitioners since the beginning of the reign of Queen Morghesa. Humans and other humanoids, now fleeing from the destruction of the war seek refugee among the walls of the monastery. The monastery stays in a high-plain, on top of the Mount Roraima, in the far north of the continent. The capoeira monks enlist themselves in the ranks of the resistance in order to support the rebellion against the war. For years, Queen Morghesa tried to subdue to the monastery, but old, and foreign, magic protects them from her attacks.
Besouro is a changeling, and his parents died during the war against Queen Morghesa. No one exactly knows where the changelings come from, but due to their abilities, they usually lived hidden among human villages. One of the villages close to the monastery was attacked by the forces of the seven dwarves, and Besouro's family got killed when he was just four years old. He was saved from starvation by Master Bimba, who brought him to the monastery. There, he trained hard and quickly raised on the ranks as a Capoeira Monk. Due to his changeling nature, he was approached by an inner section of the Capoeira Monks to be trained in the Way of Shadows. The Shadow Capoeira Monks are responsible to provide intelligence for the monastery and their allies. They train to become true shadow dancers. Only a few of the high-rank monks know about the true identity of Besouro's race. To the others, he appears as a normal human.
During his training, Besouro got close to a bard that once lived in the monastery. Since Besouro was the only changeling on the entire monastery, he got quite lonely. The bard's songs and tales about changelings was the only source of knowledge he ever had about his people. The bard was old and very wise, had seen the world, he told Besouro. Besouro loved his master, but the bard was the family Besouro never had.
In his young age, the bard had been very famous. He wandered the entire continent, he was a friend of kings and queens. He was very smart, very charismatic and with a strong character. He was super stubborn, and because of the success of his deeds, put himself above everyone else. Albeit his success, the bard lost everything he had, even before the war of Morghese, due to two big problems: he was addicted to luck games, and to women.
After he came back from a very long mission, Besouro found out that the bard had died in an attack from Morghese. Feeling strong anger within himself, Besouro screamed with his mouth and with his soul. His pain was so strong, that at that moment he split in two: he had been struck by the changelings' disease: the second persona. At that moment, a second personality took over Besouro's body: an incarnation of the Bard. Every once in a while, the Bard takes over Besouro's body, he changes his appearance and attains to the most strong characteristics of the bard: arrogant, short-temper, stubborn, and most importantly: addicted to gambling and women. He also becomes much more lovely, charismatic and seductive, contrasting with the monastic and incredibly patience of Besouro. Also, he gets the proficiency in playing the Berimbau, the ancient musical instrument of the Capoeira Monks, which he uses to entertain the crowd.
In one of the missions, the Shadow Capoeira Monks sent him, to spy over the brothers, he got arrested. It was a beginners mistake, he could not control his temper when hearing bad things about the "stupid dancing monks, that jump like monkeys and are useless as worms". The Bard came out and started a big discussion. His sudden change, from the frightened and silent villager he was transformed into the opulent, noise and very angry bard had called the attention of the guards, which had no trouble in arresting him, while in his Bard form, and threw him in a prison cell. Once in prison, the bard gave up, and he could resume his capoeirista form. The guards knew about his identity, but not the nature of his mission. Yet.
True nature: In his natural form, Besouro is slender and pale, with colorless eyes and silver-white long hair.
Bard nature: Human, around 60 years old, white hair, strong features, round body, seductive voice.
Capoeira nature: Black skin, long black dreadlocks, no shirt, long green pants, green, yellow and blue cord around his waist. Very silent.
Besouro is a changeling, and his parents died during the war against Queen Morghesa. No one exactly knows where the changelings come from, but due to their abilities, they usually lived hidden among human villages. One of the villages close to the monastery was attacked by the forces of the seven dwarves, and Besouro's family got killed when he was just four years old. He was saved from starvation by Master Bimba, who brought him to the monastery. There, he trained hard and quickly raised on the ranks as a Capoeira Monk. Due to his changeling nature, he was approached by an inner section of the Capoeira Monks to be trained in the Way of Shadows. The Shadow Capoeira Monks are responsible to provide intelligence for the monastery and their allies. They train to become true shadow dancers. Only a few of the high-rank monks know about the true identity of Besouro's race. To the others, he appears as a normal human.
During his training, Besouro got close to a bard that once lived in the monastery. Since Besouro was the only changeling on the entire monastery, he got quite lonely. The bard's songs and tales about changelings was the only source of knowledge he ever had about his people. The bard was old and very wise, had seen the world, he told Besouro. Besouro loved his master, but the bard was the family Besouro never had.
In his young age, the bard had been very famous. He wandered the entire continent, he was a friend of kings and queens. He was very smart, very charismatic and with a strong character. He was super stubborn, and because of the success of his deeds, put himself above everyone else. Albeit his success, the bard lost everything he had, even before the war of Morghese, due to two big problems: he was addicted to luck games, and to women.
After he came back from a very long mission, Besouro found out that the bard had died in an attack from Morghese. Feeling strong anger within himself, Besouro screamed with his mouth and with his soul. His pain was so strong, that at that moment he split in two: he had been struck by the changelings' disease: the second persona. At that moment, a second personality took over Besouro's body: an incarnation of the Bard. Every once in a while, the Bard takes over Besouro's body, he changes his appearance and attains to the most strong characteristics of the bard: arrogant, short-temper, stubborn, and most importantly: addicted to gambling and women. He also becomes much more lovely, charismatic and seductive, contrasting with the monastic and incredibly patience of Besouro. Also, he gets the proficiency in playing the Berimbau, the ancient musical instrument of the Capoeira Monks, which he uses to entertain the crowd.
In one of the missions, the Shadow Capoeira Monks sent him, to spy over the brothers, he got arrested. It was a beginners mistake, he could not control his temper when hearing bad things about the "stupid dancing monks, that jump like monkeys and are useless as worms". The Bard came out and started a big discussion. His sudden change, from the frightened and silent villager he was transformed into the opulent, noise and very angry bard had called the attention of the guards, which had no trouble in arresting him, while in his Bard form, and threw him in a prison cell. Once in prison, the bard gave up, and he could resume his capoeirista form. The guards knew about his identity, but not the nature of his mission. Yet.
True nature: In his natural form, Besouro is slender and pale, with colorless eyes and silver-white long hair.
Bard nature: Human, around 60 years old, white hair, strong features, round body, seductive voice.
Capoeira nature: Black skin, long black dreadlocks, no shirt, long green pants, green, yellow and blue cord around his waist. Very silent.
New Slaves
Siegfried look out through the gaps in his window blinds at the carts slowly moving past. Another five large cages with people rolled towards the old castle. Almost every day, carts with prisoners moved towards the stronghold set against the mountain that once belonged to Lord Baldor, before the dark forces overran this land north of the mountains and butchered the old elite. Now two brothers ruled this land with an iron fist. Bront and Lolwin, two people who could not be more dissimilar. The first massive, brutal, and dull. The other of small build, agile, evil, and intelligent. They commanded a large contingent of equally brutal forces, mostly human and recruited from the local area.
Siegfried's eyes caught the gaze of a horned, sad looking creature in one of the cages. Maybe he would be one to be killed or beheaded at the weekly "tournaments", where the soldiers liked to fight against already tortured and weak prisoners for fun. Or they would be transported further, into the mountains, apparently to the seat of Queen Morghesa who would eat them alive. Or so the stories go in the pub.
Things have changed in the last 40 years after the queen's goblins, hobgoblins, and undead went through on their way north. Siegfried and his two suns have to work the smithy every day until they drop of exhaustion, just to get enough food to survive. His daughter killed herself 2 years ago after being repeatedly raped by Bront's "neighborhood protectors". The little bit of resistance that was there, in the beginning, has long stopped. You can only lose so many sons and daughters.
He looked after the carts a while more before going to bed. They will bring them to the prison, a large area filled with cages and pits. He can look at the new arrivals tomorrow, on his way to the furnaces again.
Siegfried's eyes caught the gaze of a horned, sad looking creature in one of the cages. Maybe he would be one to be killed or beheaded at the weekly "tournaments", where the soldiers liked to fight against already tortured and weak prisoners for fun. Or they would be transported further, into the mountains, apparently to the seat of Queen Morghesa who would eat them alive. Or so the stories go in the pub.
Things have changed in the last 40 years after the queen's goblins, hobgoblins, and undead went through on their way north. Siegfried and his two suns have to work the smithy every day until they drop of exhaustion, just to get enough food to survive. His daughter killed herself 2 years ago after being repeatedly raped by Bront's "neighborhood protectors". The little bit of resistance that was there, in the beginning, has long stopped. You can only lose so many sons and daughters.
He looked after the carts a while more before going to bed. They will bring them to the prison, a large area filled with cages and pits. He can look at the new arrivals tomorrow, on his way to the furnaces again.
Mornië utúlië
Dirin-Gal was astonished. She had expected to take part in a desperate but hopelessly futile attempt to stop whatever was going on. Stopping an evil ritual. Saving her own life. Getting revenge on the dwarfs for hunting her down. And she had run around the corner after these others with the full expectation of a quick and maybe even painful death......
And now just after the fight started, the elven assassin had taken the first dwarf down, maybe even their main spellcaster. She could see the dwarf go down after the first attack and the elf delivering a swift coup de grace. The elven woman was already onto the heavily wounded barbarian and the body of the girl on the stone altar just started moving, which meant the invisible sorcerer might have reached her to disturb the magic flow. Things did not look so dire as they first seemed. There might be a chance to get out of this alive.
Just as she loosened another bolt at the barbarian, who by now looked seriously wounded but would not yet go down, she saw movement at the far door. Two caragor riders appeared, immediately joining the fray. She could see the elf moving against another dwarf. Why does he not turn invisible again? He would not get an advantage like this with the other dwarf already moving towards him! With all her training, Dirin-Gal made a quick assessment of the situation. She could see one of the caragors ignoring the elf. This could only mean they also spotted the moving body of the girl and the wavering beam of light. In one smooth motion, she turned her hand towards the beast and shot again. She would not be able to save the elf, but she could give the sorcerer more time. The body was almost out of the beam. If only she could get the beast's attention long enough. And suddenly the body moved upwards and vanished. They did it.
Outside on the green field near the spire, Thoravil looked at the beautiful woman in his hands. He had rescued the damsel in distress. He had single-handedly disrupted whatever ritual it was that needed the body as a channelling ingredient. He was looking up, whether he could already see the first signs of a disruption of the beam and thus his victory. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the eyes of the woman opening. What beautiful eyes. Deep. Captivating. He looked straight at her and said, "I saved you, don't worry, you are save now!". He could see a flicker of what must have been confusion in her eyes. Surely the poor girl did not know what was happening. Nothing he could not handle. "I got you out of the grasps of the evil dwarfs and their magic. You are in the hands of the mighty wizard Thoravil. I'll protect you! Don't you worry!" She lifted her head and smiled. What a beautiful smile. What a soft and melodic voice. "Let me kiss you then my hero!". Finally, after all these years, things seem to have turned out well! He moved his face towards hers. As the lips touched, the world stopped. Her eyes suddenly turned from a sapphire blue to a dark burning red. His extremities turned cold and he could feel his life force being sucked out of his body. But the eyes. He loved those eyes.
Morghesa could feel the arcane energy flowing through her body. The ritual had worked and this fool had just given her the last bit of energy she needed. Over the last weeks, all the magical energy from the surrounding country, collected by this age-old magical lens, had flowed into her body, together with all the life. She was immortal. Invincible. The strongest spellcaster in eons. And she could feel it. The land. The creatures. The ebb and flow of arcane energy around her. The fight inside her new palace. Yes, the fight....
The tide had changed. Dirin-Gal saw the body vanish, just as an army of goblins and hobgoblins stormed through the far door. From behind she could see a group of black-clad men rounding the corner, chased by two more dwarfs and another army of hobgoblins. They were surrounded. Just as she braced herself for her last stand, time seemed to stop. The room suddenly was filled with a bright white light and a figure appeared on the slab of stone. First she thought Thoravil had cast a spell, but the shape hinted at a female with a long flowing dress. "STOP!" All fighting stopped and all heads turned towards this massive discharge of energy that all could feel. The voice seemed to come from inside Dirin-Gal's head. "I AM MORGHESA, YOUR QUEEN. BOW TO ME OR PERISH!". As the goblins and dwarfs dropped to their knees, one man from the group of black fighters charged forward towards the queen, shimmering blue in, what Dirin-Gal guessed, was a protection sphere. The queen's head turned and she slowly lifted her hand towards the attacker. A beam of light hit the magical sphere and for a second it stopped before the sphere collapsed and the body of the man started to glow red from within. Within two steps, the body turned black, cracked, and disintegrated into smaller, black parts that became gray ash when hitting the ground. Within seconds, only small ash clouds were all that was left. Two other men started to run shouting "Faron!" and went up in flame after a short glance from the woman. After this everything turned quiet. The queen slowly turned her head and started to walk towards the few people still standing. "Anyone else who disagrees with me taking control?". Dirin-Gal went down on her knee as the queen looked at her and she could see Vrael and Ashara do the same. "Good, this seems settled then. Where is Kort?" "Dead, my queen", one of the dwarfs answered looking up, "Killed by him!", pointing at Vrael. The queen had a curious look on her face that quickly turned into a smile. "Killed? Stand up and come to me my champions and see that, as my eyes, ears, and arms, you too shall be immortal!". As six dwarfs stood up and moved towards the queen, she reached down to the 7th dwarf, violet light engulfing the body. The dwarf opened the eyes, looked around confused, but very quickly saw Morghesa and stood up to kneel. "My queen, it has worked! I'm at your service!" "Yes Kort, it has worked. Thanks to you and your brothers, this world is now ours to grab!" Her eyes moved from dwarf to dwarf while she walked slowly along the seven, again kneeling, dwarfs. "You will be my champions, leading my armies, guiding my swords, governing my empire. Together we will shape this world anew to our liking. Rise, my generals and counselors!" As the seven stood up, one of them turned towards Ashara and Vrael. "What about them? They have tried to stop us and have killed Kort!" "They have tried indeed. I would not like to see good talent go to waste, but since it was Kort who suffered, it is his decision and I trust his judgment." With these words, she turned and walked up to the slab of stone again, which started to glow and turn into a throne made of sapphires and white marble. She gracefully turned around, sat down, slowly looked up towards the sapphire dome above her and closed her eyes. "It is time to call forth our army and introduce ourselves to the world!"
Mornië alantië
And now just after the fight started, the elven assassin had taken the first dwarf down, maybe even their main spellcaster. She could see the dwarf go down after the first attack and the elf delivering a swift coup de grace. The elven woman was already onto the heavily wounded barbarian and the body of the girl on the stone altar just started moving, which meant the invisible sorcerer might have reached her to disturb the magic flow. Things did not look so dire as they first seemed. There might be a chance to get out of this alive.
Just as she loosened another bolt at the barbarian, who by now looked seriously wounded but would not yet go down, she saw movement at the far door. Two caragor riders appeared, immediately joining the fray. She could see the elf moving against another dwarf. Why does he not turn invisible again? He would not get an advantage like this with the other dwarf already moving towards him! With all her training, Dirin-Gal made a quick assessment of the situation. She could see one of the caragors ignoring the elf. This could only mean they also spotted the moving body of the girl and the wavering beam of light. In one smooth motion, she turned her hand towards the beast and shot again. She would not be able to save the elf, but she could give the sorcerer more time. The body was almost out of the beam. If only she could get the beast's attention long enough. And suddenly the body moved upwards and vanished. They did it.
Outside on the green field near the spire, Thoravil looked at the beautiful woman in his hands. He had rescued the damsel in distress. He had single-handedly disrupted whatever ritual it was that needed the body as a channelling ingredient. He was looking up, whether he could already see the first signs of a disruption of the beam and thus his victory. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the eyes of the woman opening. What beautiful eyes. Deep. Captivating. He looked straight at her and said, "I saved you, don't worry, you are save now!". He could see a flicker of what must have been confusion in her eyes. Surely the poor girl did not know what was happening. Nothing he could not handle. "I got you out of the grasps of the evil dwarfs and their magic. You are in the hands of the mighty wizard Thoravil. I'll protect you! Don't you worry!" She lifted her head and smiled. What a beautiful smile. What a soft and melodic voice. "Let me kiss you then my hero!". Finally, after all these years, things seem to have turned out well! He moved his face towards hers. As the lips touched, the world stopped. Her eyes suddenly turned from a sapphire blue to a dark burning red. His extremities turned cold and he could feel his life force being sucked out of his body. But the eyes. He loved those eyes.
Morghesa could feel the arcane energy flowing through her body. The ritual had worked and this fool had just given her the last bit of energy she needed. Over the last weeks, all the magical energy from the surrounding country, collected by this age-old magical lens, had flowed into her body, together with all the life. She was immortal. Invincible. The strongest spellcaster in eons. And she could feel it. The land. The creatures. The ebb and flow of arcane energy around her. The fight inside her new palace. Yes, the fight....
The tide had changed. Dirin-Gal saw the body vanish, just as an army of goblins and hobgoblins stormed through the far door. From behind she could see a group of black-clad men rounding the corner, chased by two more dwarfs and another army of hobgoblins. They were surrounded. Just as she braced herself for her last stand, time seemed to stop. The room suddenly was filled with a bright white light and a figure appeared on the slab of stone. First she thought Thoravil had cast a spell, but the shape hinted at a female with a long flowing dress. "STOP!" All fighting stopped and all heads turned towards this massive discharge of energy that all could feel. The voice seemed to come from inside Dirin-Gal's head. "I AM MORGHESA, YOUR QUEEN. BOW TO ME OR PERISH!". As the goblins and dwarfs dropped to their knees, one man from the group of black fighters charged forward towards the queen, shimmering blue in, what Dirin-Gal guessed, was a protection sphere. The queen's head turned and she slowly lifted her hand towards the attacker. A beam of light hit the magical sphere and for a second it stopped before the sphere collapsed and the body of the man started to glow red from within. Within two steps, the body turned black, cracked, and disintegrated into smaller, black parts that became gray ash when hitting the ground. Within seconds, only small ash clouds were all that was left. Two other men started to run shouting "Faron!" and went up in flame after a short glance from the woman. After this everything turned quiet. The queen slowly turned her head and started to walk towards the few people still standing. "Anyone else who disagrees with me taking control?". Dirin-Gal went down on her knee as the queen looked at her and she could see Vrael and Ashara do the same. "Good, this seems settled then. Where is Kort?" "Dead, my queen", one of the dwarfs answered looking up, "Killed by him!", pointing at Vrael. The queen had a curious look on her face that quickly turned into a smile. "Killed? Stand up and come to me my champions and see that, as my eyes, ears, and arms, you too shall be immortal!". As six dwarfs stood up and moved towards the queen, she reached down to the 7th dwarf, violet light engulfing the body. The dwarf opened the eyes, looked around confused, but very quickly saw Morghesa and stood up to kneel. "My queen, it has worked! I'm at your service!" "Yes Kort, it has worked. Thanks to you and your brothers, this world is now ours to grab!" Her eyes moved from dwarf to dwarf while she walked slowly along the seven, again kneeling, dwarfs. "You will be my champions, leading my armies, guiding my swords, governing my empire. Together we will shape this world anew to our liking. Rise, my generals and counselors!" As the seven stood up, one of them turned towards Ashara and Vrael. "What about them? They have tried to stop us and have killed Kort!" "They have tried indeed. I would not like to see good talent go to waste, but since it was Kort who suffered, it is his decision and I trust his judgment." With these words, she turned and walked up to the slab of stone again, which started to glow and turn into a throne made of sapphires and white marble. She gracefully turned around, sat down, slowly looked up towards the sapphire dome above her and closed her eyes. "It is time to call forth our army and introduce ourselves to the world!"
Mornië alantië
Tuesday, 25 September 2018
Word Play
"Words?" Dera'nah looked at the rune in front of her. "Yes, words. What did your folks teach you about words?" "Well, words transfer information and can change people's minds." "Yes, quite literally!" Nuella chuckled as Dera'nah raised her eyebrow. "Seems that we have to start from the beginning my dear. Yes, words can be used to pass on information and can change people's minds through argument, and everybody knows that. But even arcane users have figured out long ago that words can be used to summon and change energy patterns. Words have power if spoken right, and have already been used through the eons for showy wizardry." Dera'nah thought about this. "You are talking about creating fire and lightning bolts?" "Yes! Exactly! Sorcerers and wizards have it all figured out, they think!" "But they are powerful!" "Actually, my child, the most powerful wizards know about their shortcomings and have long tried to study old texts, to find out where they went wrong!" Nuella chuckled again "Good that we don't write things down, don't you think?"
"What they don't understand is why words have power. They think they command reality and reality bends to their will!" Another impish laugh. "Oh my, I have seen many a powerful wizard try and fail to even command the simplest animals or elementals!" She looked up at the sky and closed her eyes. "No, my child, words have power because many of them resonate with the melody that created the world. The Great Song that creates our reality is a complex symphony and many words, even by accident, come close to resemble small parts of it, creating a small change in The Song and thus a tangible effect. " Dera'nah looked at her unbelieving. "You mean..." "Yes, child, the Great Song that creates all and everything, the song that is all around us and within us, can be changed. By words." Nuella smiled and Dera'nah fell back in her chair. "That is what grandmother always hinted at. She always said I have to tune in, to concentrate on the melody of life." "Yes, that ability is the secret of all druids and gives us immense power and responsibility! Wizard and sorcerers luckily use the wrong language. They created their own arcane languages, capturing only parts of the important melodic components. The old languages came into being when The Symphony could still be clearly heard and thus naturally resonate strongly with the tunes of life and reality. Druidic is one of the oldest and is so close to the base melody that it has to be spoken carefully to not disrupt reality and create dissonance and disaster."
Dera'nah silently formed the words of known spells in her mouth, feeling for their melody. "Yes, the better you hit the intended melody, the stronger the effect will be. This is why you have to meditate each morning to tune yourself to the Great Song again, to feel the melody. Once you get better, you will feel the song in your body and all around you and it will become easier. You will be able to intuitively correct or cause dissonance and change the melody to mold reality around you. But we are getting ahead of ourselves, are we!" Dera'nah traced with her finger the outline of the rune that was etched into the wood. "What happens to the words once written down?" "Oh, a good question my child! That is where it becomes interesting! Sorcerers write down their spells just to be able to remember them. Little they know! All living things, and even things that had once life in them, can retain a memory of a melody. After all, they only exist because of The Song and so by remembering a tune, they can constantly change the Song by adding their little chords into it." "Oh, so the words don't have to be written?" "They can! It often helps the creator of the item to focus their thoughts, but the melody of those thoughts impressed into the item is what counts. The clearer and more focused the melody is, the stronger the item!"
Dera'nah looked at her pendant. The little piece of wood somehow had come to her mind. Nuella looked at the pendant with a knowing smile. "The piece of your mother already contains memories of The Song, since she was born when the Great Symphony was still young. It would be easy to imbue it with some extra tunes. Why don't you try to store some strength in it? You remember the words of the spell I taught you today?" "Bull's strength, sure!" "Then sing the words in your head. Try to align the melody of the words as closely as you can to The Song inside you and then include the piece of wood in your melody as well." Dera'nah closed her eyes and repeatedly spoke the words, listening to the tune they created. It sounded wrong in the beginning, but after a while, and some changes in intonation, it somehow felt better, more fluent, and she could feel strength flowing through her. She touched the pendant and could feel a second faint melody joining into the first. She tried to weave it into the first and after some reprises, the melodies slowly converged to form a new small tune. The melody filled her mind, blocking everything out. Slowly, she could feel the strength not only coming from within her, but flowing into her through her arm. Startled, she looked up and could feel the pendant in her hand pulsating. Nuella smiled. "Well done! Still weak, containing many small discords still that hurt my ears, but a start!" Dera'nah looked at the pendant in awe. It felt as if energy was flowing from the pendant. She could feel the strength. "You created your first magical item! But be careful, each creation drains you and a small piece of your own melody is always staying behind to act as a bridge. Create too many too fast and you create disharmonies in yourself. But now, let's eat! Even watching you work magic has left me peckish! You must be starving! And tell your pony, if it nibbles at my roses again, I will literally root it to patch where only dry grass grows!"
"What they don't understand is why words have power. They think they command reality and reality bends to their will!" Another impish laugh. "Oh my, I have seen many a powerful wizard try and fail to even command the simplest animals or elementals!" She looked up at the sky and closed her eyes. "No, my child, words have power because many of them resonate with the melody that created the world. The Great Song that creates our reality is a complex symphony and many words, even by accident, come close to resemble small parts of it, creating a small change in The Song and thus a tangible effect. " Dera'nah looked at her unbelieving. "You mean..." "Yes, child, the Great Song that creates all and everything, the song that is all around us and within us, can be changed. By words." Nuella smiled and Dera'nah fell back in her chair. "That is what grandmother always hinted at. She always said I have to tune in, to concentrate on the melody of life." "Yes, that ability is the secret of all druids and gives us immense power and responsibility! Wizard and sorcerers luckily use the wrong language. They created their own arcane languages, capturing only parts of the important melodic components. The old languages came into being when The Symphony could still be clearly heard and thus naturally resonate strongly with the tunes of life and reality. Druidic is one of the oldest and is so close to the base melody that it has to be spoken carefully to not disrupt reality and create dissonance and disaster."
Dera'nah silently formed the words of known spells in her mouth, feeling for their melody. "Yes, the better you hit the intended melody, the stronger the effect will be. This is why you have to meditate each morning to tune yourself to the Great Song again, to feel the melody. Once you get better, you will feel the song in your body and all around you and it will become easier. You will be able to intuitively correct or cause dissonance and change the melody to mold reality around you. But we are getting ahead of ourselves, are we!" Dera'nah traced with her finger the outline of the rune that was etched into the wood. "What happens to the words once written down?" "Oh, a good question my child! That is where it becomes interesting! Sorcerers write down their spells just to be able to remember them. Little they know! All living things, and even things that had once life in them, can retain a memory of a melody. After all, they only exist because of The Song and so by remembering a tune, they can constantly change the Song by adding their little chords into it." "Oh, so the words don't have to be written?" "They can! It often helps the creator of the item to focus their thoughts, but the melody of those thoughts impressed into the item is what counts. The clearer and more focused the melody is, the stronger the item!"
Dera'nah looked at her pendant. The little piece of wood somehow had come to her mind. Nuella looked at the pendant with a knowing smile. "The piece of your mother already contains memories of The Song, since she was born when the Great Symphony was still young. It would be easy to imbue it with some extra tunes. Why don't you try to store some strength in it? You remember the words of the spell I taught you today?" "Bull's strength, sure!" "Then sing the words in your head. Try to align the melody of the words as closely as you can to The Song inside you and then include the piece of wood in your melody as well." Dera'nah closed her eyes and repeatedly spoke the words, listening to the tune they created. It sounded wrong in the beginning, but after a while, and some changes in intonation, it somehow felt better, more fluent, and she could feel strength flowing through her. She touched the pendant and could feel a second faint melody joining into the first. She tried to weave it into the first and after some reprises, the melodies slowly converged to form a new small tune. The melody filled her mind, blocking everything out. Slowly, she could feel the strength not only coming from within her, but flowing into her through her arm. Startled, she looked up and could feel the pendant in her hand pulsating. Nuella smiled. "Well done! Still weak, containing many small discords still that hurt my ears, but a start!" Dera'nah looked at the pendant in awe. It felt as if energy was flowing from the pendant. She could feel the strength. "You created your first magical item! But be careful, each creation drains you and a small piece of your own melody is always staying behind to act as a bridge. Create too many too fast and you create disharmonies in yourself. But now, let's eat! Even watching you work magic has left me peckish! You must be starving! And tell your pony, if it nibbles at my roses again, I will literally root it to patch where only dry grass grows!"
Monday, 24 September 2018
A Damsel in Distress
Darwen looked up as Ambros, her trustworthy guard, entered the small room. The elf who introduced himself as Vrael and the half-breed Thoravil stood a bit further left and discussed what else to ask her, after she had told them everything she knew about the events on the small island. She knew she could not help much, since she herself did not understand what happened.
Ambros looked clearly uncomfortable without his well-worn breastplate and was constantly adjusting the fit of the worn down leather armour. Darwen just realised, it had two holes in the middle of the chest with wet red spots surrounding them and had to look away. "My lady, can we help with anything?" "Not now my dear Ambros. What is your guess the strangers will do with us? Will they bring me to my father?" "I don't know, my lady. It seems they are considering bringing you back to the city. But after all that happened there, I don't think this would be for your best!" "Why, what exactly happened in the city? What do you know?"
"Well, we heard from Faron's mercenaries that the city mob has fully taken the castle and have imprisoned or killed all your men who resisted. Faron's men and ours alike. Batholomäus has officially declared Drynfort a free trading city. It seems that they had just waited until our force was divided and, I suspect, had some help from inside, since the eastern gate was opened with very little fighting or warning. Either one of our men let them in or slept on his station and let the bastards surprise him." "Well, once my father is back, this will hopefully be resolved and we can return." "I guess not without bloodshed, my lady. According to Faron's scouts, who had the city under surveillance, the revolutionaries are fortifying the city walls and prepare for a siege. Other accounts report that your father is already gathering support from the surrounding baronies and is amassing a striking force to take the city back by force if necessary." "Couldn't he use the secret door that we have used to leave the castle? I didn't even know it exited until you guided me through to the river!" "Only few do. How Faron's men knew about it, I don't know. But Bartholomäus knows that we left unseen and will without doubt look for the secret passage. Sooner or later they might find it. But I'm sure your father and Molok are certain about its strategic value and will include this in their striking plans." "Oh Ambros, I don't know. This all sounds so desolate. Will we ever be able to return? Are the others still alive? Juliana? Elisa?" "I don't know, my lady. Your maids were hiding when we left and I'm sure they posed no threat to the attackers to be killed." With a quick movement of his head towards the strangers, he tried to hide his face that might give away what he thought. Good looking young women on a battleground? Not killed maybe, but not better off either. "Let me talk to the strangers again. Maybe I can convince them to bring us to your father instead or let us four guards guide you back. But I would rather much prefer a larger detail."
As Ambros approached Vrael, Thoravil started to address him: "We have heard what you came for. Why should we not bring them back to the city and give them to Bartholomäus for protection? It sounds the city is a safer place for her than a battlefield in front of its gates!" "True, but you don't know Bartholomäus. His greed and ambition pose a threat to Lady Darwen. He might use her to threaten her father in case of attack, might force her into marriage, since he always wanted to raise to nobility, or might trade her otherwise to another party. He is not to be trusted. Especially not now since he has reached his goal of becoming ruler, a goal we long suspected he aspires for." "How much would she be worth to ..." "Thoravil!" Vrael stopped his companion "Ambros, what do you think her father might do if we deliver her safely to him?" "He will surely reward you plenty. The Baron was always a generous man to his allies! He might even offer you work since you have shown your worth when fighting us and the merc's. I can vouch for you and your skills. The baron is always in need of good fighters, especially magic users and healers will come in handy in the upcoming siege!" Thoravil, still shooting deadly looks at Vrael, found his mental footing again: "So that means he will pay more than Bartholomäus or Faron?" Ambros gave Thoravil a measured look which did not hide his disgust. "He will definitely hunt you down with more tenacity should you give his daughter into his enemy's hands! And Faron it seems does not further need mylady, since he left her here while riding for another stronghold, no doubt to gather his mercenaries or cut losses and bugger off. Master Vrael, think about the situation and talk to your companions. What are you going to do?"
Ambros looked clearly uncomfortable without his well-worn breastplate and was constantly adjusting the fit of the worn down leather armour. Darwen just realised, it had two holes in the middle of the chest with wet red spots surrounding them and had to look away. "My lady, can we help with anything?" "Not now my dear Ambros. What is your guess the strangers will do with us? Will they bring me to my father?" "I don't know, my lady. It seems they are considering bringing you back to the city. But after all that happened there, I don't think this would be for your best!" "Why, what exactly happened in the city? What do you know?"
"Well, we heard from Faron's mercenaries that the city mob has fully taken the castle and have imprisoned or killed all your men who resisted. Faron's men and ours alike. Batholomäus has officially declared Drynfort a free trading city. It seems that they had just waited until our force was divided and, I suspect, had some help from inside, since the eastern gate was opened with very little fighting or warning. Either one of our men let them in or slept on his station and let the bastards surprise him." "Well, once my father is back, this will hopefully be resolved and we can return." "I guess not without bloodshed, my lady. According to Faron's scouts, who had the city under surveillance, the revolutionaries are fortifying the city walls and prepare for a siege. Other accounts report that your father is already gathering support from the surrounding baronies and is amassing a striking force to take the city back by force if necessary." "Couldn't he use the secret door that we have used to leave the castle? I didn't even know it exited until you guided me through to the river!" "Only few do. How Faron's men knew about it, I don't know. But Bartholomäus knows that we left unseen and will without doubt look for the secret passage. Sooner or later they might find it. But I'm sure your father and Molok are certain about its strategic value and will include this in their striking plans." "Oh Ambros, I don't know. This all sounds so desolate. Will we ever be able to return? Are the others still alive? Juliana? Elisa?" "I don't know, my lady. Your maids were hiding when we left and I'm sure they posed no threat to the attackers to be killed." With a quick movement of his head towards the strangers, he tried to hide his face that might give away what he thought. Good looking young women on a battleground? Not killed maybe, but not better off either. "Let me talk to the strangers again. Maybe I can convince them to bring us to your father instead or let us four guards guide you back. But I would rather much prefer a larger detail."
As Ambros approached Vrael, Thoravil started to address him: "We have heard what you came for. Why should we not bring them back to the city and give them to Bartholomäus for protection? It sounds the city is a safer place for her than a battlefield in front of its gates!" "True, but you don't know Bartholomäus. His greed and ambition pose a threat to Lady Darwen. He might use her to threaten her father in case of attack, might force her into marriage, since he always wanted to raise to nobility, or might trade her otherwise to another party. He is not to be trusted. Especially not now since he has reached his goal of becoming ruler, a goal we long suspected he aspires for." "How much would she be worth to ..." "Thoravil!" Vrael stopped his companion "Ambros, what do you think her father might do if we deliver her safely to him?" "He will surely reward you plenty. The Baron was always a generous man to his allies! He might even offer you work since you have shown your worth when fighting us and the merc's. I can vouch for you and your skills. The baron is always in need of good fighters, especially magic users and healers will come in handy in the upcoming siege!" Thoravil, still shooting deadly looks at Vrael, found his mental footing again: "So that means he will pay more than Bartholomäus or Faron?" Ambros gave Thoravil a measured look which did not hide his disgust. "He will definitely hunt you down with more tenacity should you give his daughter into his enemy's hands! And Faron it seems does not further need mylady, since he left her here while riding for another stronghold, no doubt to gather his mercenaries or cut losses and bugger off. Master Vrael, think about the situation and talk to your companions. What are you going to do?"
Wednesday, 22 August 2018
Cognitive Invisibility
Moments passed. "Well, dear, don't just stand there and look baffled. The biscuits are getting cold!" Dera'nah still tried to make sense of it all in her head. "How did you ..., Who ..., What spell ...?" "Ok, in this order: I am close friends with your mother, she said you'd be coming, and you are in my wood. In this wood, I know all that moves. Gave me enough time to make biscuits. I'm Nuella, the nymph of this water and guardian of this forest. I know your mother since the earth was young and before this wood grew around me. And finally: People sometimes don't want to see things or see only what they want and mostly doubt they are on the right way, anyway. I'm just helping them a bit to develop this thought to maturity. Really doesn't take much, if you look at it. I don't want strangers in my forest and the forest just helps them to prefer paths that lead out again quickly. But enough time later for your education! If you don't come with me right now, I'll eat your biscuit or feed it to your pony!" Sira'nah was already sitting at the window sill and the Cheetah and Pony were already on the way to the small door. "Ok, well, ... Rata'nah, Fastra'na, back here, what do you think you are doing??"
"Oh, don't worry, enough place for all in my humble abode. Animals never have to stay outside if they want to keep me company. Come on you two, meet Jingle and Jangle." And so, still confused and under the watchful eyes of two ferrets, Dera'nah followed the group that was already chatting amiably amongst them through the round wooden door.
"Oh, don't worry, enough place for all in my humble abode. Animals never have to stay outside if they want to keep me company. Come on you two, meet Jingle and Jangle." And so, still confused and under the watchful eyes of two ferrets, Dera'nah followed the group that was already chatting amiably amongst them through the round wooden door.
Monday, 20 August 2018
An unexpected teacher
It was hard to concentrate to see the path in front of her. It rather was a small and clearly visible path, but it was almost as if the path itself was constantly suggesting to follow other paths. As soon as Dera'nahs concentration slipped, she was certain that another path leading off was the right one. Only by holding tight to the wooden pendant to focus her mind was she able to track the path which was currently following a small brook upstream.
It was now a day since she had left the city, following the counsel of her mother. The past events with the group of adventurers and mercenaries had left her uneasy and she was not certain anymore that she could resist the powers that were against her. The golem was the last straw. How could she fight the enemies of Mother Nature, when she was up against forces so powerful they could create such a monster? Her mother had assured her that this was exactly what she had to experience on her path of becoming a wise woman and leader amongst the Killoren and wood folk. She had to know the powers her opponents could wield to prepare herself properly against them. On the question of how she could prepare with the little knowledge and wisdom she so far had, a path had manifested itself in her mind and, trusting her mother, she had left the group and followed it into the forest outside the city gates. After she broke the connection to her mother, she got the impression that she had achieved some important step, but was unable to see what or how.
On the afternoon of the second day, with three restless animals in tow that did not leave her side anymore, Dera'nah stepped into a clearing on the side of the hill which she had slowly climbed over the last hour. The clearing was dominated by a large oak with impressive roots coming out of the ground downhill from the tree. The water of the brook fanned out and trickled down over the largest root which formed an almost circular arc on the right of the tree, creating a small waterfall which continued in a cascade of ponds that finally continued as the brook she had followed. Although the beauty and peace that this place emanated clearly reached Dera'nah's mind, it was hard to concentrate on the details and it took all her willpower to really look at the scene in front of her. Once she concentrated, she realised that the root formed the roof of a small hut or burrow that was half covered by the waterfall. To the right was a small patch of garden. Despite the constant feeling in her head that this was just a wild field of flowers, she could make out distinct patches of well-tended herbs. It seemed that only the specific area she currently concentrated on was clear, while the peripheral vision still implicated just a grassy area with flowers, and there was a constant urge to follow the path that left the sunfilled glade. Somehow knowing that this was the goal of her journey, she continued onwards and soon could make out a small shaded circular area, formed by the root as a roof, the tree trunk on one side and waterfall on the other. The path led to a door that went into the tree next to a small circular window. As Dera'nah carefully approached the patio area, it suddenly felt as if she entered a bubble and she could see clearly without concentrating. Surprised, she looked around and turned back and could see a well-trodden path behind her, leading through an area with planted fields, she could make out grain, corn and some kind of cabbage with a quick glance, and a herb garden with an impressive variety of plants, many unknown to her. She started turning back to the door when she heard a melodic voice that reminded her a bit of the sound of slowly running water or calm waves: "Ah, hello my dear. You finally made it! I already feared you won't make it on time. Come in, tea and biscuits are ready!"
It was now a day since she had left the city, following the counsel of her mother. The past events with the group of adventurers and mercenaries had left her uneasy and she was not certain anymore that she could resist the powers that were against her. The golem was the last straw. How could she fight the enemies of Mother Nature, when she was up against forces so powerful they could create such a monster? Her mother had assured her that this was exactly what she had to experience on her path of becoming a wise woman and leader amongst the Killoren and wood folk. She had to know the powers her opponents could wield to prepare herself properly against them. On the question of how she could prepare with the little knowledge and wisdom she so far had, a path had manifested itself in her mind and, trusting her mother, she had left the group and followed it into the forest outside the city gates. After she broke the connection to her mother, she got the impression that she had achieved some important step, but was unable to see what or how.
On the afternoon of the second day, with three restless animals in tow that did not leave her side anymore, Dera'nah stepped into a clearing on the side of the hill which she had slowly climbed over the last hour. The clearing was dominated by a large oak with impressive roots coming out of the ground downhill from the tree. The water of the brook fanned out and trickled down over the largest root which formed an almost circular arc on the right of the tree, creating a small waterfall which continued in a cascade of ponds that finally continued as the brook she had followed. Although the beauty and peace that this place emanated clearly reached Dera'nah's mind, it was hard to concentrate on the details and it took all her willpower to really look at the scene in front of her. Once she concentrated, she realised that the root formed the roof of a small hut or burrow that was half covered by the waterfall. To the right was a small patch of garden. Despite the constant feeling in her head that this was just a wild field of flowers, she could make out distinct patches of well-tended herbs. It seemed that only the specific area she currently concentrated on was clear, while the peripheral vision still implicated just a grassy area with flowers, and there was a constant urge to follow the path that left the sunfilled glade. Somehow knowing that this was the goal of her journey, she continued onwards and soon could make out a small shaded circular area, formed by the root as a roof, the tree trunk on one side and waterfall on the other. The path led to a door that went into the tree next to a small circular window. As Dera'nah carefully approached the patio area, it suddenly felt as if she entered a bubble and she could see clearly without concentrating. Surprised, she looked around and turned back and could see a well-trodden path behind her, leading through an area with planted fields, she could make out grain, corn and some kind of cabbage with a quick glance, and a herb garden with an impressive variety of plants, many unknown to her. She started turning back to the door when she heard a melodic voice that reminded her a bit of the sound of slowly running water or calm waves: "Ah, hello my dear. You finally made it! I already feared you won't make it on time. Come in, tea and biscuits are ready!"
Friday, 1 June 2018
Weak gnomes, preposterous quests and a whole lot of birds...
This city is getting stranger each day!
I have lived here now for more than two years, getting to know the city and the people. It is mostly a normal city, nothing too exciting for me, but if you don't take the rules too seriously there is always a way to make a decent living.
A couple of days ago I met a weak little gnome who was like most other gnomes: insignificant and not really worth another thought. What are gnomes really good for anyway?? This one was hysterical, almost crying, and constantly complaining about his "evil" sister. I would have probably ignored him completely, however, he was yapping on about his dead father and (more importantly) some potential inheritance. After figuring out that his father was actually quite wealthy and that there would be a decent fee I offered my help in obtaining this inheritance and protecting him from his sister (seriously, who needs protection from a gnome?).
There was already a little priest with the gnome (offering spiritual guidance I guess?!) and we picked up some other fellows on the way. There was another elf (claims to be a diplomat, but sure as hell doesn't act like one) and a weird young woman with a pony and an owl. I had the (very smart) idea of getting some more help (everyone deferred to me on that idea, since it was obviously the right choice) and I hired a ranger tohelp with some of the more menial things.
We went to the gnome's house where one of the wizards (old, grumpy, not particularly well dressed, basically exactly as all the other wizards) gave us some more information about what to do. Apparently there was some "quest" to be solved first (seriously, do gnomes not have better things to do than to come up with stuff like that??). But well, for the money I was promised I decided to just get on with it. We solved the riddles (not least because of my skill and knowledge) and I finally managed to obtain my promised payment. In a moment of altruism I also offered the ranger to manage his money (he's probably never seen this much money in his life and wouldn't know what to do with it anyway). He happily accepted my offer and I will take care of his money for now (without charging him too much for the service).
I also got to know the green lady's pony and owl a bit better and both of them like me very much (who doesn't?). Right after we got paid our money a group of smelly, annoying little children actually tried to rob us. They managed to get away with the ranger's and the elf's money (obviously I kept my money safe), however one of them was bitten by my loyal and trusted familiar and died (serves him right, that's what happens when you try and steal from me). Since I had nothing better to do (and was mighty annoyed that those stinking little children had the audacity to try and steal from me) I offered my help in reacquiring the stolen goods.
No idea how that happened, but we also picked up the Orc we paid off earlier along the way. Apparently the children stole his water skin and this upset him greatly. I have no idea why and also don't know what he would do with the children once we find them. He would probably eat them, so I better have an eye on him, lest he eat any of the children before we find the stolen stuff.
We finally tracked down the stolen stuff (not least due to my exceptional interrogation skills and my excellent instincts) and had to go into the sewers to get them back. After killing some rats on the way (man, that Orc is useless in a fight) we had to kill the stinking boys' leader. He was one stupid fellow, obviously overcome by megalomania, thinking he could fight all of us and actually win. He would have been better off just giving up, but after he actually managed to damage my leather armor (slightly) that was of course not an acceptable outcome anymore. I would have killed him right there and then (who does he think he is, attacking me like this), but the priest and his useless code of honor prevented me from doing it. We did get back our stolen stuff, though, and I picked up a nice crossbow for myself along the way.
During the following days I had my armor repaired and upgraded to a Masterwork Armor and also had a nice little holiday in one of the local temples, fully recovering from the previous days.
We also met the green lady again, who has now picked up another animal, which seems to be a cheetah (where the hell did she find something likes this around here). Anyway, I gave the little cat some meat, and just like the owl and the pony I feel that we have quickly become good friends. I hope the green lady doesn't get too jealous, but apparently my great people skills are just as effective with animals. The lady seems to be changing hair colors somewhat randomly anyway, so she must be a bit self-conscious about her looks. Maybe it's time someone told her to just choose a style and stick with it - I am sure her ever changing apperance also confuses her animals.
There seems to have been a big increase in craws in our fine little city in the last couple of days and people claim they are getting sick. The ranger is also babbling on about "bad omen" and the green woman thinks something is wrong with nature (a lot of agitation about nothing if you ask me, but whatever). Apparently they all want to go into the forest to do some more exploring. The green woman even claims that the birds are not speaking the right language (what a bucket of horseshit - she just sounds crazy). Anyway, it'll be interesting to see what'll happen next. For now I'll take care of myself (I've earned it after the last couple of days) and make sure my money is well invested and protected.
I have lived here now for more than two years, getting to know the city and the people. It is mostly a normal city, nothing too exciting for me, but if you don't take the rules too seriously there is always a way to make a decent living.
A couple of days ago I met a weak little gnome who was like most other gnomes: insignificant and not really worth another thought. What are gnomes really good for anyway?? This one was hysterical, almost crying, and constantly complaining about his "evil" sister. I would have probably ignored him completely, however, he was yapping on about his dead father and (more importantly) some potential inheritance. After figuring out that his father was actually quite wealthy and that there would be a decent fee I offered my help in obtaining this inheritance and protecting him from his sister (seriously, who needs protection from a gnome?).
There was already a little priest with the gnome (offering spiritual guidance I guess?!) and we picked up some other fellows on the way. There was another elf (claims to be a diplomat, but sure as hell doesn't act like one) and a weird young woman with a pony and an owl. I had the (very smart) idea of getting some more help (everyone deferred to me on that idea, since it was obviously the right choice) and I hired a ranger tohelp with some of the more menial things.
We went to the gnome's house where one of the wizards (old, grumpy, not particularly well dressed, basically exactly as all the other wizards) gave us some more information about what to do. Apparently there was some "quest" to be solved first (seriously, do gnomes not have better things to do than to come up with stuff like that??). But well, for the money I was promised I decided to just get on with it. We solved the riddles (not least because of my skill and knowledge) and I finally managed to obtain my promised payment. In a moment of altruism I also offered the ranger to manage his money (he's probably never seen this much money in his life and wouldn't know what to do with it anyway). He happily accepted my offer and I will take care of his money for now (without charging him too much for the service).
I also got to know the green lady's pony and owl a bit better and both of them like me very much (who doesn't?). Right after we got paid our money a group of smelly, annoying little children actually tried to rob us. They managed to get away with the ranger's and the elf's money (obviously I kept my money safe), however one of them was bitten by my loyal and trusted familiar and died (serves him right, that's what happens when you try and steal from me). Since I had nothing better to do (and was mighty annoyed that those stinking little children had the audacity to try and steal from me) I offered my help in reacquiring the stolen goods.
No idea how that happened, but we also picked up the Orc we paid off earlier along the way. Apparently the children stole his water skin and this upset him greatly. I have no idea why and also don't know what he would do with the children once we find them. He would probably eat them, so I better have an eye on him, lest he eat any of the children before we find the stolen stuff.
We finally tracked down the stolen stuff (not least due to my exceptional interrogation skills and my excellent instincts) and had to go into the sewers to get them back. After killing some rats on the way (man, that Orc is useless in a fight) we had to kill the stinking boys' leader. He was one stupid fellow, obviously overcome by megalomania, thinking he could fight all of us and actually win. He would have been better off just giving up, but after he actually managed to damage my leather armor (slightly) that was of course not an acceptable outcome anymore. I would have killed him right there and then (who does he think he is, attacking me like this), but the priest and his useless code of honor prevented me from doing it. We did get back our stolen stuff, though, and I picked up a nice crossbow for myself along the way.
During the following days I had my armor repaired and upgraded to a Masterwork Armor and also had a nice little holiday in one of the local temples, fully recovering from the previous days.
We also met the green lady again, who has now picked up another animal, which seems to be a cheetah (where the hell did she find something likes this around here). Anyway, I gave the little cat some meat, and just like the owl and the pony I feel that we have quickly become good friends. I hope the green lady doesn't get too jealous, but apparently my great people skills are just as effective with animals. The lady seems to be changing hair colors somewhat randomly anyway, so she must be a bit self-conscious about her looks. Maybe it's time someone told her to just choose a style and stick with it - I am sure her ever changing apperance also confuses her animals.
There seems to have been a big increase in craws in our fine little city in the last couple of days and people claim they are getting sick. The ranger is also babbling on about "bad omen" and the green woman thinks something is wrong with nature (a lot of agitation about nothing if you ask me, but whatever). Apparently they all want to go into the forest to do some more exploring. The green woman even claims that the birds are not speaking the right language (what a bucket of horseshit - she just sounds crazy). Anyway, it'll be interesting to see what'll happen next. For now I'll take care of myself (I've earned it after the last couple of days) and make sure my money is well invested and protected.
Wednesday, 30 May 2018
A new friend
The copse of small trees was the best place she could find. Next to the rustling of leaves, only a bit of noise could be heard from the training grounds of the old swords master. She let Rata'nah graze in the shade and Sira'nah had already settled on one of the branches to clean her feathers. Dera'nah sat down, clasped her pendant firmly in her hand, and concentrated on the flow of energy all around her. A familiar calm washed over her. She felt deeper and reached out toward her mother, using the piece of wood in her hand as a focus.
Once she could feel the presence in her mind, she opened up to let her mother read her and her experiences of the last days. Most importantly, read her state of mind. "What are you afraid of, my young seedling?". The thought appeared in her head and with it a serenity only her mother could send her. They communed for almost an hour, and the obvious advice was clear: To cope with the confusion breaking in on her from all sides, a strong link to nature was important to focus and anchor her thoughts. "Carrying mother nature with you" as her mother always put it. She opened her eyes and looked at Rata'nah and Sira'nah in turn who regarded her with curiosity. "Maybe I don't have to carry Her if that part can walk, fly, or swim itself!". She smiled as she got up and saw the questioning looks both her friends gave each other. "Let's go and explore. After all, we've just arrived!"
"You useless piece of shit! Stay still so that I can kill you!!". The merchant hit the box where the small creature had just stood and a bunch of colourful feathers flew up in the air. A few colourful birds scrambled fearfully together on top of a bar. Dera'nah approached the spectacle slowly and saw the stick come down again almost seconds after the small cat had already vacated the space. "What is the matter honoured merchant, does the small cat trouble you?". "This pile of worg-dung has already killed three of the priceless birds I had brought from Ellenion together with this useless little bugger". The cat, still a red feather in his mouth, looked defiantly at the merchant who just prepared for the next swing. Dera'nah put her hand on his arm and extended her other towards the young creature. "Maybe I can help. Let's see!". Channelling some energy towards the creature while whispering some druidic words, she calmed the cat who appeared to have fun, not being scared at all. The cat quickly backed up towards her, letting go of the feather, not taking its eyes off the stick. "Now here, all is good. I can take the little mischief of you. How much do you want?". "You a druid, eh? I see! Well, I still suggest killing it, no worth in trying to train it. Can't take the wild out of some creatures, I say! But that's your problem now I guess! Let me make you an offer: If you can heal the other two birds it injured and calm the others so I can sell them, you can take the bugger. I'm glad to be rid of the beast!" Smiling towards the cat, which looked up at her, she accepted the offer and started to approach the birds. A few minutes later the merchant was happy again and Dera'nah was about to leave when the cub tried to climb up Rata'nahs hind leg with its small claws and flew off in an arc after the pain-induced kick of the pony. "Told ya!" came from the merchant as the small group set off, Dera'nah again holding the cup and healing its bruises. "You are something special, you little ferocious beast!"
After buying a beautiful armour made from masterfully intertwined leaves, which the elf who sold them in front of a magnificently carved elven tall ship was even able to fit perfectly to her thin body, she approached her small family again, cat cub in hand. "It's time to get introduced and find a name for you!" Sira'nah, sitting on the pommel of Rata'na's saddle, looked angrily at the small creature. Dera'nah looked down at the cat for a while. "You two, meet Fastra'nah!" She held out the cat to the owl who eyed the cat with a clear challenge. "Fastra'nah, this is Sira'nah. I'm sure she'll teach you quickly what happens to small cats that try to touch her. Be gentle Sira'nah, looking at the build of her, in a few weeks you might have a powerful friend!" And turning to the pony that still looked angrily at the cat: "You've already met. Rata'nah, Fastra'nah is now family. Please take care of him. I'll fasten him to you for the time being until he learned how to behave and can be allowed to roam freely." She bent down and threw the cat gently towards the saddlebags on the pony's side. The claws caught the bag and the cat quickly scrambled upwards, staying at the back of the saddle, out of Sira'nah's reach. "This is how to get up for now, although, looking the claw marks, I might have to think of some reinforcements for the bags to make it easier for you. I also will craft some riding contraption for you since I'm sure Sira'nah won't vacate her pommel!" Grinning at the owl, she took the reins and led them away from the market. "So little family, let's see if we can find that group again to continue our learning. Knowling men, I guess the shady pub is a good place to start!"
Tuesday, 29 May 2018
The Brotherhood of the Shadow
The brotherhood of the shadow.
We are everywhere and nowhere. We see. We listen. We know. We make the shadow, we are invisible.
- Educate yourself. Knowledge is more important than money. Money facilitates your life, knowledge gives you power. Power gives you much more money.
- Create a network of knowledge connected through a strict and hidden chain of command.
- Choose your commanders. They must be first loyal to you and second, to themselves. They must educate themselves and create their own command chains.
- We do not accept previously educated people. We educate them using our resources, and we train them to fit the brotherhood.
- Each commander only talks to you and to his/her own subordinated persons.
- If someone leaves the brotherhood, this person leaves the brotherhood. No coercion or harm will be caused to the person. All the connections with this person will be ceased and he/she can never come back again.
- Communication is our most important goal. Create communication channels which are encrypted and anonymous for the observers.
- The communication happens in one stream direction: always towards you, and you report only to me. - Spread the shadow around your surroundings. Never reveal your intentions, be invisible.
- Grow. Control all the information of your neighborhood, then the city, then your region.
- Sell information to obtain profit, but never reveal too much. This will be an expensive operation, you will have to maintain it. Again: educate yourself.
- We are the hands behind the puppet. We are not the show, we make it happen. Never take protagonism but control everything and everyone.
Each member of the brotherhood must be recognizable by us but anonymous to others. We use a simple bird figure engraved in our capes, trousers or shirts. The color of the bird indicates the command chain: as brighter, higher in the command chain. you use a white bird. I use a white bird, with red eyes:
We are everywhere and nowhere. We see. We listen. We know. We make the shadow, we are invisible.
- Educate yourself. Knowledge is more important than money. Money facilitates your life, knowledge gives you power. Power gives you much more money.
- Create a network of knowledge connected through a strict and hidden chain of command.
- Choose your commanders. They must be first loyal to you and second, to themselves. They must educate themselves and create their own command chains.
- We do not accept previously educated people. We educate them using our resources, and we train them to fit the brotherhood.
- Each commander only talks to you and to his/her own subordinated persons.
- If someone leaves the brotherhood, this person leaves the brotherhood. No coercion or harm will be caused to the person. All the connections with this person will be ceased and he/she can never come back again.
- Communication is our most important goal. Create communication channels which are encrypted and anonymous for the observers.
- The communication happens in one stream direction: always towards you, and you report only to me. - Spread the shadow around your surroundings. Never reveal your intentions, be invisible.
- Grow. Control all the information of your neighborhood, then the city, then your region.
- Sell information to obtain profit, but never reveal too much. This will be an expensive operation, you will have to maintain it. Again: educate yourself.
- We are the hands behind the puppet. We are not the show, we make it happen. Never take protagonism but control everything and everyone.
Each member of the brotherhood must be recognizable by us but anonymous to others. We use a simple bird figure engraved in our capes, trousers or shirts. The color of the bird indicates the command chain: as brighter, higher in the command chain. you use a white bird. I use a white bird, with red eyes:
Thursday, 17 May 2018
A strange human world
While keeping a hand on Rata'nah for comfort, she closed her eyes and tried to sort her thoughts. She had only entered that strange city two days ago and immediately a 100 things happened at one fell swoop. Not only were, seemingly, all city customs alien to her, but also the behaviour of her companions and everybody around her was incomprehensible. Only the ranger seemed to act "normally" and reminded her of the more simple-minded men in her tribe, her brothers included. If he would be representative of humans, she would be home in no time with not much to learn. But it seemed far from it.
The other half-human in the group seemed to be a practitioner of the arcane and mostly after gold coins. He was difficult to anticipate and whenever she thought she finally understood his intentions, he surprised her by reacting differently. But he seemed to have a way with people and could manipulate them well. Whether this was only connected to his elven ancestry or his arcane powers, she could not guess, yet, without more insight into elves or the arcane; powers so different to hers. And speaking of elves, she only heard about them through stories of her granny. But the specimen standing in the middle of the small square now somehow managed to destroy the whole image of the noble, wood-loving creatures that once were so similar to her own kin in many respects. He also did not, in any way, resemble the diplomatic visitors she saw her grandmother receive in her function as the head of her tribe. Where they had been respectful, prudent, and well-studied, the elf at hand appeared sneaky, weasely, and most likely a felon in disguise. The only character that so far managed to fulfil her expectations in his caste, was the cleric. He was full of himself and self-righteous, traits that most clerics she had met on her way here had shown. That he prayed to Wee Jas did not help the matter, either.
She had followed the group because the thought she could see a good example of people in a city helping each other, learning about the positive sides of life in such a large and multi-faceted tribe: Many different people coming together to help one of their own. But she more and more got the impression that everybody's motivation was merely personal gain. Even the gnome, the person that had requested help, went against his sister to take the inheritance where he should have sought her wisdom on how to share it. But the sister was none the better, seemingly showing no wisdom at all, at least none that Dera'nah could comprehend. And instead of helping each other, because this is what a tribe does, all actions were bargained for with everybody aiming at maximizing their amount of gold. How a community can work on such basis was beyond her!
She needed time to think and get her thoughts straight again, before getting more impressions and even more confused. She remembered the park they had been to, where they had met with the old sword master. Trees unknown to her and beautiful flowering bushes had caught her attention at the time and she was sure to find a quiet place there to meditate and converse with her mother. This park was the closest she could get here to a forest in this monstrosity of stones, metal, and strangers. She would try and find some of the people from this group again to learn more since she was sure that those individuals would attract even more interesting encounters. And she was sure because of that, she would have no problem finding some of them again. But for now, she needed a break. Just as she silently rounded the corner, she could hear shouts and cheers from a large group of younglings coming up the other road. At least this sight her world and the strange city shared.....
The other half-human in the group seemed to be a practitioner of the arcane and mostly after gold coins. He was difficult to anticipate and whenever she thought she finally understood his intentions, he surprised her by reacting differently. But he seemed to have a way with people and could manipulate them well. Whether this was only connected to his elven ancestry or his arcane powers, she could not guess, yet, without more insight into elves or the arcane; powers so different to hers. And speaking of elves, she only heard about them through stories of her granny. But the specimen standing in the middle of the small square now somehow managed to destroy the whole image of the noble, wood-loving creatures that once were so similar to her own kin in many respects. He also did not, in any way, resemble the diplomatic visitors she saw her grandmother receive in her function as the head of her tribe. Where they had been respectful, prudent, and well-studied, the elf at hand appeared sneaky, weasely, and most likely a felon in disguise. The only character that so far managed to fulfil her expectations in his caste, was the cleric. He was full of himself and self-righteous, traits that most clerics she had met on her way here had shown. That he prayed to Wee Jas did not help the matter, either.
She had followed the group because the thought she could see a good example of people in a city helping each other, learning about the positive sides of life in such a large and multi-faceted tribe: Many different people coming together to help one of their own. But she more and more got the impression that everybody's motivation was merely personal gain. Even the gnome, the person that had requested help, went against his sister to take the inheritance where he should have sought her wisdom on how to share it. But the sister was none the better, seemingly showing no wisdom at all, at least none that Dera'nah could comprehend. And instead of helping each other, because this is what a tribe does, all actions were bargained for with everybody aiming at maximizing their amount of gold. How a community can work on such basis was beyond her!
She needed time to think and get her thoughts straight again, before getting more impressions and even more confused. She remembered the park they had been to, where they had met with the old sword master. Trees unknown to her and beautiful flowering bushes had caught her attention at the time and she was sure to find a quiet place there to meditate and converse with her mother. This park was the closest she could get here to a forest in this monstrosity of stones, metal, and strangers. She would try and find some of the people from this group again to learn more since she was sure that those individuals would attract even more interesting encounters. And she was sure because of that, she would have no problem finding some of them again. But for now, she needed a break. Just as she silently rounded the corner, she could hear shouts and cheers from a large group of younglings coming up the other road. At least this sight her world and the strange city shared.....
Thursday, 26 April 2018
Dera'nah
The first light of day that came over the eastern hills prompted Dera'nah to come out of her meditation. Slowly, her mind took note again of her surroundings. She was sitting cross-legged on a small rocky hammock at the end of the forest with the hills behind her. Looking straight on, she could just make out the hovels surrounding the city that was barely visible on the horizon through the morning mist. Another day and she would reach her aim. Humans.
She let go of the small wooden pendant and placed the now warm piece of wood on a vine again around her neck. She took a deep breath of the cool morning air and sat up slowly and brushed the dew from her leather trousers. She tumbled slightly because of her stiff legs and a startled beating of wings told her that she had woken Sira'nah, who had slept on a branch almost reaching the hammock from the nearby tree where they had set up camp for the night. Reaching out to tousle the small feathers on the tiny owl's head she spoke softly "We'll soon reach our target and I guess you have to get used to being woken harshly. The lands of the humans are loud ones. How they can hear the voices of the land over all their chattering and clattering, is a mystery to me!"
While she jumped down from the small rocky ledge, she let out an almost inaudible whistle and started walking towards the small green tent. A few moments later, the small pony came lazily around the tree. "Rata'nah! You could show a bit more enthusiasm on this fine morning! I heard there are many horses and ponies in the city. Maybe you can make new friends tomorrow?". The look on the ponies face spoke volumes and she had to smile. "Right you are, those city dwellers wouldn't know how to really live a good life! Then you should tell them!" She winked and started to get their stuff together. Sira'nah stretched her wings and with an elegant gliding motion settled on the branch above her. Dera'nah looked up. "Why don't you make yourself useful and find us the shortest path to the next road? We have already learned last week that humans prefer that we use their roads and not their fields, as that farmer made abundantly clear!" The owl gave her a disapproving look, stretched again and silently lifted off toward the city.
Stowing the last items in the saddlebags, she looked again towards the city. The sun had cleared the mist already and the grey city walls were clearly visible on the horizon. She could already make out small dots moving towards one of the gates. What will it be like? She had never seen any human settlement that consisted of more than a few houses connected by packed dirt. They had chosen a path through the woods that kept them well clear of the smaller settlements, but now she could not stall any longer. The mission by her mother was clear: Learn all you can about those that slowly intrude into the forests and hills of the Killoren, her folk. She had been chosen because of her likeness to the human complexion. Her skin only had a soft greenish tint and felt like a young leaf to the touch. She also was small and frail looking and would not scare humans, like her bothers would. Their muscular bodies resembled tree trunks with their barklike skin and they also were not born with much inner calm nor traits for diplomacy or many words. No, gathering and guarding knowledge and wisdom always had been a woman's vocation. That's was why her grandmother had sent her out when she became an adult. After all, she was now 10 and would one day take over as guardian of the shrine. Although her grandmother gave no indication of wanting to leave the world soon, the increasing spread of humans with their love for metal and stone would sooner or later lead to conflict. And then she had to be ready to lead her tribe. But first, she had to get to know some humans she could study. The reaction of the farmers that they had met since entering these lands had already told her that she, with her skinny body and her smaller height, apparently resembled a human adolescent that human parents would not send out alone. Don't they know that in the forest one is never alone? Aren't they teaching their children? Well, being taken for a child could make asking questions easier. And the looks of the men also told her that she could gather an audience if she wanted to. Whether this would be an audience she could get knowledge from, was another matter. But she was here to learn all she could.
A hoot woke her from her thoughts. Sira'nah sat 50 yards away on a branch, staring her silent stares. Before she could react, Rata'nah already started to move towards the owl. Well, at least her companions had accepted their fate. With a sigh and a long look back at the forest, Dera'nah shouldered her sack and held on to her wooden pendant again. Feeling the connection to her mother strongly, she set off after her own small family.
She let go of the small wooden pendant and placed the now warm piece of wood on a vine again around her neck. She took a deep breath of the cool morning air and sat up slowly and brushed the dew from her leather trousers. She tumbled slightly because of her stiff legs and a startled beating of wings told her that she had woken Sira'nah, who had slept on a branch almost reaching the hammock from the nearby tree where they had set up camp for the night. Reaching out to tousle the small feathers on the tiny owl's head she spoke softly "We'll soon reach our target and I guess you have to get used to being woken harshly. The lands of the humans are loud ones. How they can hear the voices of the land over all their chattering and clattering, is a mystery to me!"
While she jumped down from the small rocky ledge, she let out an almost inaudible whistle and started walking towards the small green tent. A few moments later, the small pony came lazily around the tree. "Rata'nah! You could show a bit more enthusiasm on this fine morning! I heard there are many horses and ponies in the city. Maybe you can make new friends tomorrow?". The look on the ponies face spoke volumes and she had to smile. "Right you are, those city dwellers wouldn't know how to really live a good life! Then you should tell them!" She winked and started to get their stuff together. Sira'nah stretched her wings and with an elegant gliding motion settled on the branch above her. Dera'nah looked up. "Why don't you make yourself useful and find us the shortest path to the next road? We have already learned last week that humans prefer that we use their roads and not their fields, as that farmer made abundantly clear!" The owl gave her a disapproving look, stretched again and silently lifted off toward the city.
Stowing the last items in the saddlebags, she looked again towards the city. The sun had cleared the mist already and the grey city walls were clearly visible on the horizon. She could already make out small dots moving towards one of the gates. What will it be like? She had never seen any human settlement that consisted of more than a few houses connected by packed dirt. They had chosen a path through the woods that kept them well clear of the smaller settlements, but now she could not stall any longer. The mission by her mother was clear: Learn all you can about those that slowly intrude into the forests and hills of the Killoren, her folk. She had been chosen because of her likeness to the human complexion. Her skin only had a soft greenish tint and felt like a young leaf to the touch. She also was small and frail looking and would not scare humans, like her bothers would. Their muscular bodies resembled tree trunks with their barklike skin and they also were not born with much inner calm nor traits for diplomacy or many words. No, gathering and guarding knowledge and wisdom always had been a woman's vocation. That's was why her grandmother had sent her out when she became an adult. After all, she was now 10 and would one day take over as guardian of the shrine. Although her grandmother gave no indication of wanting to leave the world soon, the increasing spread of humans with their love for metal and stone would sooner or later lead to conflict. And then she had to be ready to lead her tribe. But first, she had to get to know some humans she could study. The reaction of the farmers that they had met since entering these lands had already told her that she, with her skinny body and her smaller height, apparently resembled a human adolescent that human parents would not send out alone. Don't they know that in the forest one is never alone? Aren't they teaching their children? Well, being taken for a child could make asking questions easier. And the looks of the men also told her that she could gather an audience if she wanted to. Whether this would be an audience she could get knowledge from, was another matter. But she was here to learn all she could.
A hoot woke her from her thoughts. Sira'nah sat 50 yards away on a branch, staring her silent stares. Before she could react, Rata'nah already started to move towards the owl. Well, at least her companions had accepted their fate. With a sigh and a long look back at the forest, Dera'nah shouldered her sack and held on to her wooden pendant again. Feeling the connection to her mother strongly, she set off after her own small family.
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