The companion thread of interactions and scenes untold from the tale of the Legendary Kingdoms
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Ulfyre
Year 193 A.E
A beautiful land, that of Ulfyre. Ages past did a kingdom spread through its central fertile valley, but no more. All that is left of its shining cities are two sorcerers of death in the east and in the west, and a myriad of tribes that have settled far from home.
Year 193 A.E
A beautiful land, that of Ulfyre. Ages past did a kingdom spread through its central fertile valley, but no more. All that is left of its shining cities are two sorcerers of death in the east and in the west, and a myriad of tribes that have settled far from home.
(1) The Sorcerer of the Riverlands
To one who might whisper to the dead there is no such title as necromancer. Such a word is reserved for those who erect their <Sorcerer's Tower> and barter souls for secrets and power.
The dead alone can not raise the dead. Those to chop wood, forge weapons, mix herbs, all breath and speak. For every living body needed there is a house to shelter it, and so the <Forsaken Village> is raised.
And though the dead do not eat, the living that tend and raise them do. <Fallow Fields> produce the grains that feed the workers, and the livestock pens see as much death as the Sorcerer's Tower.
(bracketed words indicate important locations that may be interacted with by servants and turn commands)
And it was the last years of the 2nd century after the great exodus that the lands of Ulfyre were settled and did grow in their borders. In the northest, but not so far as the Naling Lake, was the necromancer of the settlement of Esmur, Georgette Alexandrine Simone Fay, known as the Riverland Sorcerer. And with them were their two servants,
Bellonie The Iron Maiden (D:4, A:5, L:5, C:1)
Who was said to be a thousand spirits, or perhaps just one, possessing a device most terrible. Clever was Bellonie, and well-loved by those who knew her for her sharp wit. But as intimating as the iron maiden appeared, she could do no more to defend herself than any other object of iron and wood. Not that she had any need to defend herself. For who would wish to raise the clever advisor's anger? Or that of her master? And then of course there was
Isov The Wanderer (D:4, A:5, L:5, C:1)
Bellonie's brother, or so they both claim. Isov says he was a poet, a thinker, a traveler who sought to understand the greater workings of the world. Isov says he was also cursed, forever undead and unfeeling. Trapped in a rotting body with a clear and perfect mind. Made only bearable by the understanding of his sister and the leadership of the sorcerer he serves. Isov abhors violence, but his very existence was born from it. Thus is he tormented, or perhaps not. For like his sister, Isov is more than he appears...
It would be these three, the Sorcerer, the Iron Maiden, and the Wanderer that would steer the fate of the Ulfyre riverlands. Through their actions would the eastern necromancer kingdom grow.
(2) The Elf Lord of the East
A <Glittering Hall> in a stump of ashwood, a giant tree it was. Fit for a king and lined with jewels (but better days it'd seen)
The fair folk dwelled in houses of stone and moss and wood. A <Fey Village> around the Glittering Hall, weathered, but proud still.
No wheat for elves, not deep in the fairy wood. Their fields are of a different sort, the <Underfields>, caverns beneath the trees where elven crop does grow.
(bracketed words indicate important locations that may be interacted with by servants and turn commands)
In the east of Ulfyre, across the River Kline, lies the forest known as the Greshnere Wood. And in its center lies the court of High Lord Renark, of the fair line of Yewhold. In the twilight years of the second century, he reigned along with his kind and tended to the forests. And it was with his two servants that this noble fey did build his kingdom. The first of these servants was
Tamric the Cold (D:2, A: 2, L:1 , C:4)
Blood of blood, Tamric is Renark's nephew and a member of the clan Yewhold. The two are the last of their line, the survivors of a bloody past. Perhaps the events of the early years of the exodus are why Tamric cares so little for anything outside of bloodshed. Despite his cold nature, he is Renark's heir until another is born. And he is loved like any trueborn son.
En (D:5, A:5, L:3, C:4
The Yewhold clan's history is steeped in tragedy. So too is the past of En. Not quite a fairy, not quite an elf, En was nonetheless beloved by both at one time. That time is long past. Now she serves Renark, and has taken Tamric under her wing to train in the ways of serving a lord, and perhaps one day becoming one. En is talented in all the ways that one can be talented, save leading others. She has always been a solitary creature.
The High Elf Lord Renark, Tamric the Cold, and En, together they oversee the realm of the eastern wood.
(3) The Wild King of the South
Of rutted earth and treaded path, do secret places lie. Dark corners and darker dens, home of the <Bone Hall>, domain of such monstrous kings.
Raised mounds, shored walls, pottery and hearth. Many such dwellings to protect the Bone Hall, a <Herd Village> to house its kin. Where bestial families gather and serve, and go about their lives. What songs do they sing, what stories do they tell. None but the young know.
A thousand paths through forest and hill, a thousand spots where herds are brought. Monsters keep and monsters gather, much the same as any man. They slaughter the bull and cook its meat in their <Grazing Fields>, closely guarded and hidden in the wild places.
(bracketed words indicate important locations that may be interacted with by servants and turn commands)
In the southeast of Ulfyre was the Haden Wood, home of the monster tribes that had settled among the hills and trees. And though there were many clans and monsters, one rose above them all to crown himself lord of the forest; The Wild King, Lord of the Hunt, He Who Stands Above Others On the Great Hill (ma'karthra Jun). And with him were his two most loyal followers,
Ozymanna (D:4, A:4, L:6, C:5)
A great and powerful monster, one of the descendants of the first monster, the three-faced moon-eater. Ozymanna is old to many but young among his own tribe. He is both wise and trusted, and when need be, dangerous. So say many when the song of Ozymanna is sung around the drinking pits. But there is also
Kee'Ah Old Feather (D:5, A:3, L:2, C:1)
And it would be the king, the serpent, and the bird, who would change the Haden Wood forever.
Necromancer:
Well looks I got a pinky and the brain thing going on with my servants. Well actually more like a jack of all trades and a noob, but you get the point. Oh well I don't mind a challenge (though I do hope the dice gods will favour me more in the future).
For your ease I also put the stats in already.
Diplomacy: 4
Administration: 3
Leadership: 4
Combat Ability: 3
Servant Two
Diplomacy: 1
Administration: 1
Leadership: 2
Combat Ability: 2
(4) The Enchanter of the Western Marshes
To one who might whisper to the dead there is no such title as necromancer. Such a word is reserved for those who erect their <Sorcerer's Tower> and barter souls for secrets and power.
The dead alone can not raise the dead. Those to chop wood, forge weapons, mix herbs, all breath and speak. For every living body needed there is a house to shelter it, and so the <Forsaken Village> is raised.
And thought the dead do not eat, the living that tend and raise them do. <Fallow Fields> produce the grains that feed the workers, and the livestock pens see as much death as the Sorcerer's Tower.
(bracketed words indicate important locations that may be interacted with by servants and turn commands)
In the west, in the marshlands known as the Brettin Bogs, lies the town of the necromancer known as the Enchanter of the Western Marsh. Little is know about this figure, only that their domain is as much protected by the hungry earth that surrounds as it is the dark arts of its master. And with them are two servants, two who follow their lord necromancer wherever they bade them,
Johade The Just (D:4, A:3, L:4, C:3)
Once a great man laid to rest in a great tomb. The inscriptions speak of a just man, a man who loved the law and the order it brought. The truth was a little darker, but there is no disputing that Johade wielded a powerful presence in life. Now in death, he serves a master other than the law. Now he serves the Enchanter, along with a girl he claims as his daughter.
Johade's Daughter (D:1, A:1, L:2, C:2)
The one referred to as Johade's daughter is not, in fact, Johade's daughter. She is a banshee, a spirit, that the mad dullahan lord mistook for his kin and claimed as his own. She now follows him where ever he goes, for she has little choice in the matter, and the Enchanter of the Western Marsh seems inclined to permit it. Further even, for Johade's daughter undertakes great tasks in service to the necromancer of the Brettin Bogs.
The great Enchanter in the depths of his marsh, his loyal dullahan, and the dullahan's banshee daughter. Together what will they make of the dark southwestern corner of Ulfyre...?
(5) The Goblin King of the Western Hills
From dawn unto dusk the peasants did hear, 'come, come, come into the woods and meet our king. come to him in his <Cavern Hold>. Give toast and give tribute to our king under the earth.'
Beneath root and rock do the goblins call. 'come to us in the <Under Village>. Come where we wait with splendid food and jewels to please.'
But none who ventured into goblin lands returned. Not with gifts promised or bellies filled. For true goblin treasure lies hidden away, like their <Under Fields>, where goblins plant seeds of the earth, and never call out to peasants passing by.
(bracketed words indicate important locations that may be interacted with by servants and turn commands)
Western Ulfyre is a land of hill and forest, and for ages it has remained untouched and untamed. By the time of the 3rd century A.E however, scribe and merchant alike tell of a Goblin King who made his court in the rocky crags of the Yulda Valley. Many of the earthen tribe could be found in the city he raised, and all knew of the king's great servants, the two who carried out his will,
Henny Bonefingers (D:4, A:3, L:2, C:6)
Pretty pretty Henny, as the creature calls herself, has long dwelled in the Yulda Valley preying on foolish travelers. The Goblin King changed that, taking Henny's fingers and only giving them back after she promised a deep oath that she would serve him. Henny is only concerned with the eating of innards and the occasional goblin feast of which she attends. She can be quite persuasive when necessary.
Runtun The Thoughtful (D:4, A:3, L:4 C:3)
The second of the goblin king's great servants is Runtun, often referred to as "The Thoughtful Giant". This is due to Runtun being both a giant of the old mountain-walker lineages, and quite thoughtful. Though that is not to say that the old songs do not sing of him eating enemies and grinding their bones. Despite this, Runtun was not known for having a warlike nature, and was more often found pouring over parchment than sharpening iron. Though again, this is only as the songs sing.
Among their kin, the Goblin King, Henny, and Runtun were known throughout the Yulda Valley. Even beyond its borders would they be known, for the kingdom of the goblins was rising from the rock.
(6) The Northern Ogre Prince
Doom, deep in the fen. Doom, among the bogs and caves and meadows. Doom, in watery doorways and sunken towers. Doom, in the <Trophy Hall> where great ogres dwell.
And who serves them? Who offers tribute and who joins in battle? All the beasts and monsters of the <Cave Village> built into the sides of the Trophy Hall. Dwellings for the dangerous host and all their dangerous kin.
And <Marsh Farms> for those who claim the caves and the deep dark places of the world. Pools to grow and stony faces to harvest. All for the feasts of the ogre king.
(bracketed words indicate important locations that may be interacted with by servants and turn commands)
By the lake known as Woslayh among the Aubren wood, lay a hill and atop it the kingdom of the northern Ogre Prince. Fierce was he and strong of claw and tooth. And so were that of his servants, just as monstrous as he. The first was called,
Reega the Eager (D:4, A:3, L:4, C:5)
The Ogre prince's warband has many monsters who rend shield and bone alike. Chief among them is Reega the Eager, a devilish ogre if there ever was one. Fast friends with the Ogre prince, Reega is quick to carry out orders with the utmost glee, and has few equals on the battlefield. Such is his ferocity, that monsters flock to his banner and that of his master's. He is cruel like many of his kind.
Saya the Wise (D:6, A:5, L:3, C:3)
A sphinx, Saya is intelligent and deep of thought, and thus a much needed-balance to Reega the Eager. Saya is well-favored by the Ogre prince, for she leads as well as she thinks, and offers much wisdom in the ogre prince's court.
The prince is not prince for naught, and with Reega the Eager and Saya the Wise, he strides forth to make his kingdom known.
Last edited:
We Just Write
Blatantly Plural
- Location
- New England
- Pronouns
- Plural
M: Post what where dice go.
- Location
- Canada
Goblin King rolls the shiny rocks for luck
- Location
- Belgium
May the dice gods shine upon me (in the good way).
CommanderBlade
Blade Commander
- Location
- Vale
Beast King Fengar Bullgore throws the sacred bones
Turn 2
- Location
- Chicago
Ulfyre
193 A.E.
193 A.E.
Now in the 2nd century after the great exodus, in the west, past the Tyber mountains, was the land of Ulfyre, once home to the great kingdom of the Lehvant. Before the events that shook the world the kingdom was already in decline, and it surely did not survive the great migrations of tribes and peoples that happened after. For the next two hundred years war and strife would lay low the wonders and beauty of Ulfyre, and wipe away the traditions and knowledge of those who migrated there. The only remnants of the Lehvant kingdom that survived were a city to the southwest in the Brettin Bogs, and a city in the northeast in the riverlands. Coincidentally both the domains of necromancers. And it was not just war that filled the earth with corpses and scattered the wise, but famine and sickness as well.
But in time those that survived the fighting and the starvation and the plagues found a place for themselves in Ulfyre. Among these were many monster tribes, hard-pressed from the exodus but no strangers to war or death. The underdweller tribes were present as well, both goblin and dwarf, those that had endured the troubles that seeped into the earth. The aforementioned necromancers, sitting in the new and old capitals of a once-great kingdom. Then there were the elves and the fairies, who had settled in the Greshnere wood after their kin had gone mad. Lastly the single tribe of mortals who had managed to endure where others had not.
But after so much bloodshed and loss, one must ask if it was worth it to be one of the small tribes that managed to survive. The precious knowledge of their ancestors buried, survival relearned through painful trials. So why Ulfyre? What did these kings and masters see in the land that made the struggle worth it? To answer such a question one needed only understand what the rest of the world of Oren looked like at the time.
It was burning, and had been since the Exodus.
So Ulfyre was indeed a prize.
@I just write
(1) The Sorcerer of the Riverlands
"What do you mean that's not bursmith!" the robed man exclaimed. He gestured wildly with the satchel he held. "Can you not tell your eyes from your ass! Trying to swindle me are you??"
The merchant was unfazed. He glanced around at the other stalls in the market. The other merchants looked back sympathetically. It was a busy day in the settlement, with travelers coming from all over to barter and trade. It was one of the few safe places along the Kline River after all. But the robed man, dressed like one of the old learned scholars of the east, was clearly out of place.
"I don't know what to say," the merchant said, shrugging. "I'm not buying what you're selling. That's not bursmith, that's some other weed."
The robed man stomped his foot. "Ridiculous! Do you know how long I scoured the forests for these! Lands, I might add, where there are ogres and harpies and worse!"
The merchant took a deep breath and sighed. "Not my problem, move along, you're scaring away people who won't waste my time."
A low murmur built up around the market. The robed man ignored it. Instead, he opened his satchel and dumped the contents on the merchant's table. It was a collection of purple flowers. "Look! Look with your eyes! Tell me that is not bursmith! Any one with half a brain could see it is!"
Instead of answering, the merchant backed away with a fearful expression. The robed man furrowed his brow in confusion, then turned and looked behind him. The market was empty. The stalls were shuttered. The only figure in the dirt path between buildings was a metal object that size of a man. It seemed to float several inches off the ground, and at its top was fashioned the face of a woman. It was like an iron bell, a ghostly herald.
A strangely sweet voice echoed out of it. "Hello, are the Hassid scholar I've heard so much about?"
The robed man swallowed. "And...and if I am ghost? What then...?"
The iron maiden laughed. It sounded amused, but also hollow. "Well then," Bellonie said. "Please, come with me. There's someone I'd like you to meet..."
-Did you hear what happened to Lord Sorceress Fay's favored servant Isov?
-No! Pray tell, you speak of the poet, the one they say kept his beauty even in death?
-That is the one. They say he traveled up the banks of the river Kline to seek someone out.
-No! Tis a terrible stretch of water! Not like our fair city of Caurlem, kept safe by the Lord Sorceress!
-Indeed, and he was beset by river pirates not even two days walk.
-Tell me you lie! What became of him?
-No worse for the wear. They say he is loathe to fight but can do it well if need be. Still, it surely set him back.
-Surely.
@JbeJ275
(2) The Elf Lord of the East
There is little written on Tamric, nephew of High Lord Renark of the Yewhold line, at least not in the early years. What is known is that he was mentored by his foster father and En, a great and powerful creature. He was also responsible for raising the first warhost of the Greshnere wood in many decades. Other then these few snippets, the songs and legends only tell of a young elf with few friends and even fewer words. At least, that is how it was in the early years of Renark's riegn...
The forest waved in the breeze. It was a clear day. A windy day. A day in which anything not rooted was swept away to distant lands. En could smell the restlessness in the air as she perched on a branch. The fey creature closed her eyes, savoring the sounds, then opened her wings on her back. This motion startled several fairies that had gathered around her. The tiny creatures flitted away, yelling and chiding at her in their tiny voices. En blew a puff of air their way, scattering the fairies further.
"Be gone you lot," she said. Despite her words, her voice had been kind, gentle. En vibrated her wings and took off. The fey creature soared over the green canopy, startling birds and insects alike. Her eyes scanned the Greshnere wood, searching for her prize. She finally found it, a large tree, barren, and sticking up like a crag among the healthier canopies. En dove straight for it. She blew past branches and tore through leaves. Suddenly she was near the ground. En stopped suddenly, curving up to hover over it. Before her was the barren tree. In its base, a large doorway.
En landed and approached. Her garments of sewn hide and silks trailed behind her, and her wings pressed down against her back. The door opened before she reached it. A tall man with antlers growing from his forehead stood in the frame.
"The answer's no."
En came to a stop and smiled. "I haven't even asked my question Nolin."
"The answer is still no. I won't serve that elf. Not him or his coldblooded nephew, or any in that highblood court."
En regarded the deer-man, her smile growing amused. "No one said anything about serving. Think of it as a favor, to an old friend. One you will be rewarded for."
Nolin glared at her, but his expression quickly softened. "We were never friends o' great En..." he turned away. "I worshiped you...me and all my kin...and now you serve..." he gestured vaguely at the forest. "Him..."
"I do," En said, her smile fading. Her expression grew saddened, but also thoughtful. "And so I come to you not as one you gave thanks to, but a simple fey, who has few others to turn to in these times..."
The deer man remained with his back to her. A tense moment passed. Finally Nolin exhaled and turned back to her. "Fine. What does that elven lord want raised from the earth this time..."
@CommanderBlade
(3) The Wild King of the South
A gathering of satyrs, boarmen, ogres, and harpies argued loudly. Their voices echoed around a large cave, causing a great racket and threatening to turn the disputes violent. Near one end of the cave was a low, dark opening. A loud hiss echoed out from it. The gathering of monsters quieted down. Slowly, a large, shadowy shape emerged from it. It reared up, illuminated by the large amount of torches throughout the cave.
It was Ozymanna, the great serpent. All eyes gazed at him, a tension in the air. The giant snake's tongue forked in and out of its mouth as it gazed down at the gathering. "Now then," he said, his low voice worming its way around the cave. "I have kept you waiting, and you have been patient. Let us speak of why you are here."
An ogre narrowed his eyes. "Yes...let us speak. Is there news? Why must I share ground with feather-eaters and pig-fuckers!"
The cavern erupted in noises. Several harpies took flight and tried to claw at the ogre's eyes. The monster growled and swatted at them with hardened fists. Ozymanna watched. The giant serpent had a small smile on his face, as if amused, then raised his tail. He used it to knock away the harpies, then curled it around the ogre. The gathering watched wide-eyed as the monster was lifted up into the air by Ozymanna. The snake brought him close, peering into his eyes.
"You must share ground, my wonderful monstrous brother, because my lord commands it. As he commands what I am about to do next."
The ogre squirmed in the serpent's grip. "W-what's that?"
Ozymanna's smile grew. "Why give you weapons of course. It's long past due..."
-What? What's that?
-What.
-There, up in the sky, you see it? Flapping around wildly like that.
-Hm? Ah, that's Kee'Ah Old Feather, that old harpy hag that serves the Wild King
-She's flying like she's drunk.
-Probably is, Kee'Ah's a right wind of a scraper and I swear to my nose I've seen it. She can drink a giant under the table and strip his whole cave bare for' he wakes.
-Where do you figure she's going?
-Not really the business of lowly monster folk like us, wouldn't you bleat the same?
-Mayb. Mayb not. But if I didn't know any better, I'd say she's heading over to southern den of those rowdy goatmen.
-Aye, almost looks that way doesn't it? Wonder what she wants with that lot...
-More like what the Wild King wants, eh?
-I bleat that. Let's get out of here for' she vomits whatever she's drinking and hits us.
-Oh aye good point lead the way.
@TheShadowOfZama
(4) The Enchanter of the Western Marsh
Who, who knows of the kingdom of the Lehvant people, save for the inscriptions on tombs and the bones in the earth! Woe to you cities of the Lehvant, jewel of Ulfyre, pride of the Golden Valley, gone and forgotten! Who is left to sing your praises or speak of your conquests? There are none, your name is already fading with the buried remains of your towers.
Hm? But wait, there are some who survive. Who is this Enchanter of the Western Marsh, he who sits in the ancient new capital of the Lehvant? And who is with him, but Johade the Just! There is a true man of Lehvant, that man Johade. Tall and strong and quick to righteous anger! Such fury did the warriors of that kingdom wield! Strange though the enemies they sometimes chose to receive that anger...
Bah, no matter. Let us gaze at Johade and remember the days of Lehvant. Hm, but this man before us has changed...he is man no more, but a spirit chained to suit of armor. Ah, but look there, the anger has remained. All his booming words, all his proclamations of right and wrong, those remain. See how he towers over this tribe as he rides into their village. See how he raises his fearsome blade and declares what is about to happen. Watch! The tribe cowers. That is not the voice of a protector, but an instrument of wrath! Wail villagers, your time is near!
What is he doing you ask? Hm, I cannot say. He is looking for someone most likely. Ah, and judging by the person the villagers are forcing to the front of their number, it would seem Johade, last warrior of the Lehvant, has found them...
"Um, hm...um....mhmmm......"
The banshee known as Johade's daughter wavered to the left, then to the right. Before her were the swamp-tenders and necrobrewers of Mosshelm, the city of her master. The men were dressed in leather garments with tightly wrapped gauze. They held all manner of tools for their trade, from blades to hammers to chisels. The men talked loudly among themselves, completely ignoring the banshee.
"Um," she said, trying to speak louder. "So... orders....so....um...the enchant...the echant..." she cowered, protecting her head as several men turned to her.
"What's that." One man said, his voice a low gurgle. "Speak up bog ghost. I caent hear YA!"
"Yah!" the other men yelled.
"What are we here for!"
"Why've you gathered us banshee welp!"
"Speak up! We'll be yelled at if we're late back to the fields!"
Johade's daughter dipped to the ground and curled up into a ball. The men continued yelling. Many began to leave. Finally one worker picked up a rock and threw it. It passed through the banshee, landing harmlessly behind her. The ghostly maiden froze. The remaining men turned to leave.
The banshee slowly rose up. "I said...ORDERS!"
The force of her scream blew the workers like clods of dirt. They landed in the surrounding marsh, sending up small splashes. Johade's daughter put her translucent hands to her face.
"Oh no...I've...um...um..."
She turned and fled back to Mosshelm, covering her ears as the men in the swamp groaned with pain.
@SteelWriter77
(5) The Goblin King of the Western Hills
-Saw Henny Bonefingers the other day
-Didja now? Stayed the stone-toss away I hope you did!
-I did. I did. She was really going though. Springing from rock to rock, as if it was the simplest thing. Moving like that...
-She was a terror years past. The way she could barrel down on a lost traveler. Have him ripped up in seconds. Strength better than some ogres....
-Yes I've heard the stories. But she serves that goblin king now, the one that's claimed the Yulda Valley.
-She's no less scary for it. Them goblins, you don't ever know what they're thinking. Where do you think she was going? When you saw her?
-I've a hunch, though I've no heart to speak it.
-Go on, it's just us...
-Hm, ha, fine. I'd say she was headed down Saywick's way, to that other goblin king.
-Oh? Ol' King Barryroot? Switching the crown she kisses you think?
-No...no I don't think that at all. Something's happening in that valley. That goblin king's changing things...and I think he wants Barryroots help to do it.
"Oy! Runtun! What you up to down there!"
Runtun the giant straightened up. He was in a large pit, with earthen sides and piles of dirt surrounding its edge. A team of goblins and trolls worked together to haul up buckets from the bottom. Runtun wiped his brow with a massive hand, fixing his gaze on those who had addressed him. They were two stonemen, standing idly with drinking skins in their hands.
"You," Runtun said, his deep voice rumbling. "Both of you. Get down in the pit and start hauling dirt."
The stonemen looked at each other. "What for?" one of them asked.
"Never you mind what for," Runtun said, lowering back down into the pit. "Get down here or I'll grind you up."
The stonemen frowned. A moment later the giant cleared his throat in the pit. The stonemen tucked away their skins and hastened to join the work lines.
@Zedalb
(6) The Northern Ogre Prince
"Sayaaaaaa,"
The sphinx looked up from where she was curled up on her favorite bolder. Around her was her cave, with its fissure-lined roof that let in rays of sunlight from above, and all the trophies and trinkets she'd gathered through the years. On one end of the cave was a small opening. In sauntered Reega the Eager, a thin, muscled ogre with a metal helm and a wide, toothy grin.
"Sayaaaaaa," he repeated, opening his arms wide as he approached.
"Oh," the sphinx said, turning away from the ogre and resting back on the boulder. "It's you."
"That's right it's me. I just returned from a rather interesting task given to me by the prince."
"Oh?" Saya said, not bothering to turn her head.
"That's right. Let's just say we won't be lying around without a way to defend ourselves much longer..."
"Ah. So you gathered some brutes, did you."
Reega let out a laugh. It echoed around the cave. "That's right! Me! The prince gave me an order and I carried it out. I will be the favored one soon! And you'll just be an ornament he nails to the wall!"
Saya took a deep breath, then rose from her rock. She turned an arched eyebrow on the ogre. "Reega, your insistence on this contest for our lord's praise has grown tiresome. I never cared to see you beaten. I just want to aid the prince."
Reega's smile faltered. "Eh? What's the fun in that you winged woman! Life is a contest, and we must play!"
"Right," Says said. She began licking her feathers in an attempt to prune them. "Fine, I'll play. I've just returned as well. And I too, have done something for the prince."
Reega's smile disappeared completely. "what..."
"I brought someone back."
"Who."
It was Saya's turn to smile. "Wouldn't you like to know..."
(7) The Eastern King Under the Hill
And it was said that in those days those that dwelled in the earth did so in the <Barrow Halls>, which hung with splendid tapestry and roared with burning hearth. And the stone tribes did hold many feasts there and celebrate the turnings of the deep earth and its music known only to them.
Around a Barrow Hall lies a <Tunnel Village>, with each dwarven dwelling a wonder unto itself.
<Dwarven Fields> are built behind high walls and hidden among the hills. Little else of the stone men dwells above ground, but what they eat is grown under sun and stars.
(bracketed words <> are locations servants can interact with)
The east was a lost land, the kingdoms there gone forever. When many migrated west, the Alsuwar mountains were among the greatest obstacles. Thousands died traveling its treacherous passes, and so when they made it through few wanted to ever see its peaks again. Lord Ubrim Steelshout's forefathers were different. In the hillands north of the river Fien, in the shadows of the mighty Alsuwar range, they settled among the ruins of the old city only known as Cailus. There they fonded a new settlement, Stelius, and it was in Lord Ubrim Steelshout's time that it would turn into something more.
Snullywatch the Careful (D:2, A:4, L:2, C: 2)
A descendant of one of the old northern trickster lines, Snullywatch is a conjurer with an eye for counting and figures, and none of the glee or wiliness of his ancestors. As such he is entrusted with all the paperwork, tithes, taxes, and legal workings of the settlement of Stelius, as well as such things as casting protective wards and driving away evil spirits. In fact, he has been sent away on more than a few dangerous tasks by Lord Steelshout, and has proved himself perfectly-capable of going toe to toe with any monstrous creature in the wild. Perhaps he still has some of the old trickster blood in him after all...
Gus (D:6, A:4, L:3, C:2)
When Lord Steelshout crossed the great Alsuwar mountains, he found Gus as a young bull lost in the snowy mounds of the pass. A moment of compassion saw the dwarven lord bring Gus along, and thus a companionship that would last the ages was born. Once settled in the hillands of the river Fien, the bull would grow, and grow, and grow, until he was taller than any tree or tower in Stelius. A kind and thoughtful creature, Gus would rather speak of trade and tradition than battle and bloodshed. Still, he has the body for dealing death, should he ever take the time to learn it...
A Hill Lord, Snullywatch, and Gus settle in the ruins of a once-great city. Only time will tell what becomes of this industrious lot...
(8) The Horned King of the Southern Crag
Of rutted earth and treaded path, do secret places lie. Dark corners and darker dens, home of the <Bone Hall>, domain of such monstrous kings.
Raised mounds, shored walls, pottery and hearth. Many such dwellings to protect the Bone Hall, a <Herd Village> to house its kin. Where bestial families gather and serve, and go about their lives. What songs do they sing, what stories do they tell. None but the young know.
A thousand paths through forest and hill, a thousand spots where herds are brought. Monsters keep and monsters gather, much the same as any man. They slaughter the bull and cook its meat in their <Grazing Fields>, closely guarded and hidden in the wild places.
(bracketed words indicate important locations your servants can interact with)
Little is known of Simaldrus Haraltain before his tribe's journey into the land of Ulfyre. Their clan name and deeds only began appearing in tales and song as they fought with numerous other tribes over the southern mountain known as Rulauna. This small, contained war eventually gave rise to a victor, Simaldrus and his monster tribe. From there, with the help of his two servants, he would gather the others under his banner.
Heccafet (D:6, A:2, L:2, C:1)
The monstrous creature known as Heccafet is unusual for her kind, in that she has been known to show kindness to beings outside her tribe. In fact, it was her insistence that she kidnap and rear all the children of the Rulauna mountain herself that drew Lord Simaldrus to find her. With such a mind as Heccafet had, and an earnestness that could win over any, the Beast King recruited her under his banner. That is not to say he thought her kindness a strength. No, he wanted her wit, and Heccafet was first and foremost a monster, no matter how mush she pretended otherwise. That much was obvious from the bones around her den...
Druug (D:2, A:6, L:3, C:5)
With the Horned King, Heccafet, and Druug, a great kingdom would be founded. Few could know what would come forth from that mountain...
And there were kings in the wilderness and beyond who raised the <Great Hall>. Maidens and strong warriors alike met under its roof of strong wood and slate, and the joy of a king and his retainers is much to behold.
Lo! The glory of the Great Hall is tempered by the <Chief Village> like a scabbard and its sword. And all the huts of the warriors and their families around the center hold.
Small plots for the animals, large ones for the seed, called <Hill Fields>. And every fish in every river and shore to the tables of those who serve the chieftain king.
From where does the Nightchill clan come? From the east, as everyone else dies. But where others fled, the Nightchill clan reaved. And thus did Karilla and her clan come to Ulfyre, her warriors just as fierce as the monsters of the valley.
Hilgrid the One Eyed (D:6, A:4, L:5, C:6)
Many say Hilgrid is a sky-woman, a warrior witch of old who bore fallen warriors to the heavens. And they would be right. But now Hilgrid is just a shield-maiden, and a damn fine one at that. Whether it be entertaining with a boast, bartering with a rival kingdom, or leading warriors in battle, Hilgrid excels at it all. She is sworn for life to Karilla Nightchill, and would do anything for the winter herald of the north. One day, she will bear Karilla's body to the heavens, and thus end her time in the mortal realm.
Buric the Mad (D:1, A:6, L:6 C:5)
Buric the Mad is, as they say, quite mad. A member of a tribe whose sons and daughters have long been laid to rest, Buric wandered the wilderness for decades before finally coming to Ulfyre. There he met Karilla Nightchill's father, and was brought under Clan Nigthchill's banner. Buric's is a bloodline privy to great power and knowledge of the earth, and as such Buric is an incredibly talented shaman and soothsayer. His powers, however, are quite fearsome and unpredictable.
With the Lady of Winter, Hilgrid, and Buric, the clan of Nightchill has staked its claim in Ulfyre and intends to see their ambitions through to the end. Whatever that may be...
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CommanderBlade
Blade Commander
- Location
- Vale
The Wild King of the South Fengar throws the sacred Bones.
Arise and sunder, mighty cohorts of the scaled eagle, swoop and sunder!
Edit: Ignore the second six on my first action.
Edit: Ignore the second six on my first action.
Last edited by a moderator:
We Just Write
Blatantly Plural
- Location
- New England
- Pronouns
- Plural
Post what where dice go.
- Location
- The UK
Tamric, you wield blade and bow as the best of your kinsmen do, but that alone shall not safeguard this place. With what you know you must win thier respect, and with what you are yet to learn, you must fashion thier respect into action.
En, though leading others is not a path your heart treads readily, I ask you nonethless to share your wisdom here. To learn from and to teach our honoured guest.
En, though leading others is not a path your heart treads readily, I ask you nonethless to share your wisdom here. To learn from and to teach our honoured guest.
- Location
- Belgium
May the dice be favourable.
- Location
- Canada
time for more rolling
Turn 3
- Location
- Chicago
Ulfyre
194 A.E.
In the far east lies paradise, known as Aeya to its inhabitants. To the west of Aeya are the lands of Hofael, and past the Tyber-Alsuwar mountains is Ulfyre. But much has been said of Aeya, and of course we speak of Ulfyre often. But what of the land between paradise and the golden valley? What of Hofael, once called the tattered hem of paradise?
After the tragedy and the exodus, millions fled east. But even more fled west. And the first land they came across was Hofael. For centuries before the exodus its fields and forests witnessed innumerable wars and strife. Through the ages its warring tribes, looked down upon by those in Aeya, slowly formed into kingdoms. And though nowhere near the glory of paradise, the kings of Hofael grew adept at conquest and formed their own cultures and traditions around it.
And so it was no surprise that when the once-proud peoples and tribes of Aeya fled into Hofael during the exodus, they were met with shield walls, spears, and resentment. The kingdoms of Hofael let few settle in their lands, driving the people of Aeya further west towards Ulfyre. But that is not to say that everyone allowed themselves to be chased away. The mightiest of Aeya stood their ground and fought the kings of the endless plains, and through a century of warfare changed Hofael forever. For just as in Ulfyre, many long-standing kingdoms were ground down and overtaken by those fleeing Aeya, and now Hofael bears the new legacy of the descendants of paradise.
It is any wonder what kingdoms the exiles will raise there, or what the remaining Hofael kings will do to stop it...
(1) Sorceress of the Riverlands
Bellonie's Action
A great hall rose up in the settlement of Esmur-Caurlem in the northern riverlands. It was the seat of power of the Sorceress Georgette Alexandrine Simone Fay, arguably the last true heir to an order as old as the kingdom of Lehvant. The hall was not extravagant in the way lords and masters traditionally adorn them, but neither was it plain. It was exactly as the necromancer wanted it, which was comfortable and warm. The sorceress herself sat in a cushioned throne surrounded by burners and bowls of fire. Fragrant incense clouded around the undead woman's head, and her expression was hidden behind a curtain that had been set up to separate her and the rest of the hall. Only Georgette's silhouette could be seen by those gathered before her. Her shadow raised a hand, signaling she was ready. The iron maiden, Bellonie, bowed as well as her oblong and metal form would allow. The Hassid scholar next to her did the same. The man was pale, his brow drenched with sweat.
Little wonder, considering those standing guard around the hall were undead.
"I brought him my lady," Bellonie said, her body still tilted in an awkward, floating bow. The scholar bowed as well, staring intently at the floor. Bellonie bumped into him. "Introduce yourself."
"Veranca!" the scholar exclaimed, still staring at the ground. "And let me be the first to give thanks for inviting me into your hold! Much have we heard upriver of the great sorceress of Esumur-Caurlem!"
Georgette said nothing, her silhouette remaining enthroned behind the curtain.
"If it would please you my lady," Bellonie said. "We will begin construction."
Georgette's shadow nodded.
"And..." the scholar began, looking hesitant. "If I could possibly request one more thing..."
Georgette tilted her head behind the curtain. After a tense moment, she nodded for the scholar to continue.
[Event] The Hassid Scholar wishes to invite his diaspora brothers and sisters to settle in the Sorceress's domain. The Hassid are known to be among the most learned in the nine lands, however their pursuit of knowledge sometimes comes at the expense of others.
Isov's Action
Hey hey hey, is that the wanderer I see?
It is! Look at the cloak he wears! The boots! Such finery for a dead man!
Sshhh! Are you out of your mind? The sorceress won't tolerate you speaking badly of her poet...
Right...right...say, what do you think he's doing out there? Standing in a field like that? And who are those two with him?
Hmm, those would the ghostly maidens gifted to him by the sorceress, no? I hear Lady Fay is attended to by many such undead servants. As for what he's doing...not sure? It seems he's just...looking at the ground?
Maybe it's a poet thing?
It must certainly be a poet thing...
(2) The Elf Lord of the East
Tamric's Action
What do you think...?
*Sniff* about what.
About running around these lands with Lord Renark's cold-blooded heir...
Hmmm *slight shrug* I mean, he hasn't said much to us, he doesn't seem that bad for a princeling...to be honest I'm more worried about whether I can use this bow they gave us...
Sheh, you think you'll have to use it? Tamric didn't gather us for battle. Who would we fight? River pirates? They don't come to the shore when traveling through out lands
The western monster tribes? The southern hill dwarves?
Nobody's fighting anybody. Ulfyre's killed enough of us to satisfy any thirst for bloodshed...
Well, still, I'd like a moment to try this bow out.
Well then go and ask Tamric.
Oh by the stars no, YOU ask Tamric.
What, weren't you the one who said he wasn't that bad?
Yes, but he is undoubtedly unnerving, which is different than being bad. Regardless, tell me if anyone's coming, I'm going to try out this bow...
By the blood-soaked shores Sheh, you have a penchant for idiocy...
[Event] An errant arrow has led to the discovery of pirate settlement's along the Kline River in the Greshnere Wood. They are roughly of equal number to the Greshnere elves. Eradicating the pirates would secure the land, but would also be the first real combat elven warriors have seen in many decades, and thus would carry some risk.
En's Action
The Greshnere wood rose up like a majestic wall of green and gold. The canopies of the large and ancient trees wavered in the wind, letting in faint beams of sunlight to the ground below. Among the bases of the trees was the settlement of Samiira, home of clan Yewhold. The homes were finely carved and positioned, with decorative wreathes and totems hanging from the ridges.
In the center of Samiira was a massive pit. Teams of elves, fairies, and a handful of dryads worked to remove dirt from the bottom. Overseeing it from the branch of a large tree was En. Next to her was a master craftsman with antlers, Nolin. The man frowned, itching at his chin.
"Well..." he began, watching as several fairies collided midair and dropped their tiny buckets of dirt. "This...is not going as well as I thought it would..."
En nodded. She gazed at a rather large dryad who had just tripped over an elf. The fey exhaled and rubbed her forhead. "No...it isn't, is it..."
"Who normally builds your homes and halls? How is it possible that your work teams are so inept?"
"It's not that," En said, then held out her hand. Nolin passed her a wine skin. The fey took a drink, then wiped her mouth with delicate fingers. "Everything was built in Renark's father's time, and the builders are long-buried and their knowledge with them. For years all these pixies and tree spirits and elves have known are endless feasts followed by deadly famine, like an unending cycle."
"Yes I'm aware," Nolin said. "My kin could often hear their revelry...and their suffering..." he glanced at En. "What changed then? Why do all this now?"
The fey didn't answer for a few moments. She continued to watch the builders below, her expression growing somewhat distant. "Nothing changed. Renark was simply bidding his time. We all were..."
"Even you? What could you be waiting for?"
En nodded.
"Especially me...I've grown to desire the same think as Renark."
"Which is...?"
"A new kingdom of paradise here in Ulfyre..."
(3) The Wild King of the South
Ozymana's Action
Quiet...hurrgggggg
Whatszit? Whatszitt??
Look, ground-side, eyes see?
Eyes no see.
Shut flapping jaw and look with eyes...really look...
........
.......
oh...is that...? River? Green river?
No...no river. Ozymanna, servant of wild king...
Giant serpent?? What in rua's name is snake doing?? And wait, is that...?
Warriors...many spears...
No get, Ozymanna lead war party? There is no war here...
Can't say, no bird sing sweetly for this...it must be ill omen...
Should we tell others?
We must.
....oh....hmmmm
hm?
Do you think...do you think the wild king is here for us?
.....
.....
ah. We have been feasting much these seasons...
Should we feast on the snake?
Hmmm. Much meat...Let us tell the others.
Yes yes! Let's!
[Event] Ozymanna has discovered a nest of deathshrooms. They can be easily avoided, but also exhibited signs of reason and cooperation. This is not a good thing, as they are wholly dedicated to using any advantages for hunting prey. If they are left alone for too long, they could wander north. But engaging them may result in losses.
Kee'Ah's Action
A spear hurtled through the air. It struck the stomach of a goat-man tied to a tree, impaling him. A score of centaurs raised drinking horns and cheered. Kee'Ah turned to them, raising a wing in a gesture of triumph. In her other wing she held a second spear. The harpy turned back towards the goat-man. She hefted the spear, took aim, then let it fly. It sank through the monster's head, pinning it back against the tree. The entire clearing erupted in roars. Centaurs kicked wildly in disbelief, while others exchanged trinkets over wagers. Kee'Ah raised her chin in satisfaction. A centaur approached her, with two others in tow. They set down a barrel. Ale sloshed over the rim. Kee'Ah nodded in thanks, then dunked her head in and began drinking.
"HA HA HA!" the lead centaur boomed. He was the tallest among them, with dark, straggly hair and a broad chest. He beat a fist against it. "I like you Kee'Ah Old Feather! You kill and drink like centaur!"
Kee'Ah held up a wing, signaling she would need a moment. She kept her head submerged in the barrel as she drank. Finally she reared back, gasping and dripping with ale. The harpy let out a shriek of satisfaction, then turned her head and spat. "I drink like harpy, not horseman. Horseman can't drink like me!"
The lead centaur let out another boisterous laugh. "A second challenge so soon after the first? You are mad harpy! Mad!"
Kee'Ah hopped from foot to foot, doing a little jig. "No matter, no matter! Plenty time for challenges," she paused and eyed the centaur. "But also time for other things. Deep talks and big words, and good things for the future, eh?"
The centaur eyed her curiously. "Perhaps harpy...perhaps...we have heard news of your king and his movements...you've have already been seen flying skies to another tribe..."
Kee'Ah shrugged. "I fly where I please, the sky is mine." she pointed a wing at him. "But what is yours?" she gestured. "This field? That hill over there? No no, my king offers much more..."
A small smile appeared on the centaur's face. "I'm listening harpy..."
(4) The Enchanter of the Western Marsh
Johade's Action
A small gathering stood on the edges of a marshy field. Birds cawed in the air as they searched for seeds. A low wind built up, then died down. Among the group was Johade, dullahan servant of the western enchanter. Despite lacking a head, he gave of an aura of displeasure.
"Well little tradesman," he said, clapping a man next to him on the back. "It seems you are not as good at your craft as my master had hoped!"
The man swallowed. He wore a long robe tied up around his legs with rope, and a large satchel rested on his back. He unslung it and began quickly rummaging through its contents. "Time...I simply need more time..."
Johade let out a hearty laugh. "Luckily for you, my master has plenty of it! But I would caution against further failure little tradesman...not even myself and my kin are excused when we err..."
The man found what he was looking for and produced a glass mason jar. "It's..." he began, gesturing at the marsh. "It's the soil. It needs tending, it needs my remedies..."
"Yes yes," Johade said, dismissing the statement with a gesture. "Come along, I wish to show you something."
The man furrowed his brow in confusion. The dullahan towered over him, clearly waiting. The man swallowed again, then quickly stuffed the jar back in his satchel and slung it over his shoulder. Johade turned and began walking. The gathering behind them, robed men, followed with heads bowed.
"Allow me to tell you a story," Johade said, his tone whimsical and amused. "About a kingdom long ago, and a city that stood on this very spot."
"Oh?" the man said. He sloshed through the marsh, trying to keep up with the dullahan's confident steps.
"Yes! The city was known as Loith, and was far larger than Mosshelm," Johade stopped and swept his gauntlet across the horizon. "Imagine if you will little tradesman, nothing but gardens, towers, and stone houses. A keep of precious metals and glass, and bells that rang with the rising and setting of the sun."
"oh..." the man said, clearly awed.
"When the sun was at its zenith, noble maidens would sing to announce noontime meals, and at the start of each new season, the greatest feast one could imagine was held for all to attend."
"By Rua, it sounds...amazing..."
Johade turned to the man, resting a heavy gauntlet on his shoulder. His tone was calm, but held an edge. "I'm glad you understand little tradesman. My master wishes to make Mosshelm into a new Loith. I desire this as well. So I will ask you again. Is time all you need to give us what we want? Or do you need...a better reason to work?" The dullahan's other gauntlet rested on the hilt of his sword.
The man shook his head. "N-no! A week, no, five days! That's all I need! I will do as you ask!"
The dullahan chuckled again, then took his hand back from the man's shoulders. "Good. I am very pleased to hear it little tradesman."
Johade's Daughter's Action
Ahhhhhhhh *splat*
Ho! You good ther siree?"
oohhhh, my head...what happened?
hahaha! You got thrown down into the pit is what happened! Welcome to the grandest labor in the Brettin Bogs!
What's happening? I don get it! One minute I was in the fields picking horseflower, the next, some men come and tussel over here-ways!
Ahh yes, it's a thinker isn't it? Look up though, and you'll find yer answer.
Eh? You mean...what is that? Up there looking down at us?
That ther my friend is a banshee known only as Johade's Daughter. She's watching over us to down here to maken'sure we work proper!
She looks...quite fierce?
haha, tis but a trick my friend. Stare at her for a bit, you'll see...
Is that wise? I've no wish to anger a banshee...
Do it, I won't turn you wrong, trust me.
Very well...
You see? She won't look at you. Turns away from anyone who stares up at her. That angry face is but a bluff. Little ghost is trying to act tough, but is too shy to play overseer...
Oh that is quite funny
Careful though, few weeks past she screamed a gathering of workers into the waters. Best just to mess with her once, don't rouse what you don't have to.
You're the one who had me starin...
Pah, tis in the past. Best get to work though.
What work? Why are we in this pit?
Look down.
.....by the gods! Is that a skull!
hahaHA! Look at you, scared of a dead body! This is the Brettin Bogs siree, ain't nothing BUT dead bodies buried here! And we're raising them!
By Rua than the rumors are true...
Ho boy, better start working like I said! Think ol' banshee girl's gotten over her fear of us! She's staring right hard at you now!
Gah! Hand me a shovel! I'll dig, I'll dig!
(5) The Goblin King of the Western Hills
Henny Bonefinger's Action
"Pretty Pretty Henny says...GIVE ME YOUR FINGERS!" the hag pounced the goblin and dragged her nails across his face. The goblin screamed, tumbling backwards into a table and upsetting goblets and platters piled high with food. The goblins, giants, and dwarves sitting around the table beat their fists and howled with laughter. Henny reached out and grabbed the goblin off the table, preparing to rip off his fingers. A low, loud banging stopped her.
The bog hag glanced over her shoulder. The Goblin King Ruk Goldtooth, ruler of the Yulda valley, signaled with another bang of his scepter that Henny should cease her violence. The bog witch frowned, but nodded. King Barryroot, Goldtooth's guest, chuckled and sipped from his drinking horn.
"Strange creature you have there King Ruk..."
The goblin king nodded in agreement. "Aye..." he said, the words slipping out like a raspy breath.
"She's a right rabbit in the sack there, liable to kill an underdweller soon as look at him."
"Aye."
"So why keep her around?"
A small smile appeared on King Goldtooth's face. "Fancy a wager?"
"Oh? What kind of wager my fine host?"
"Pick any of your warriors. See if they can best Henny."
"HA!" King Barryroot said, slamming the table with a fist. "Now THERE's a fine dance if I ever saw one! I'll take that deal. Two golds and a silver say my Hodgpy over there can stomp your bog hag into the ground." he pointed a gnarled, ring-laden finger towards a towering goblin with bulging muscles sitting at the table.
King Goldtooth's smile grew slightly larger. "Aye, and if Henny wins, I want the rings you've been flashing around my hall."
"Hm," King Barryroot said, inspecting his rings. "Very well." He raised slightly from his cushioned chair. "HODGPY!" the large goblin looked up from stuffing a chicken leg into his mouth. King Barryroot pointed at Henny. "Kill the bog hag."
Hodgpy rose with an angry bellow. He grabbed a club leaning against his chair and hopped up on the table. Henny slowly turned to him. She looked the tall goblin on the table up and down, then glanced at King Goldtooth. Her master gave her a small nod.
Henny Bonefingers grinned.
Hodgpy jumped down from the table and lumbered towards her. He speed quickened as he raised his club. Henny waited. The goblin swung with both hands. The hag took the blow to the side of the head. She cackled as it carried her around, her bony nails digging into the weapon. When Hodgpy realized she was hanging on, he tried to shake her off the club. Henny curled around it like a spider, then crawled up his arm. The goblin tried to grab her, but she skittered around to his back. Henny rose up behind his shoulders and wrapped her long fingers around his head.
"Pretty pretty Henny got youuuuuuu,"
"RAAAAARG!" the goblin yelled. Henny twisted hard. His neck cracked and the goblin teetered. The bog hag cackled as she rode him down to the ground.
The feast hall grew silent. Henny straightened up on the corpse of the goblin, then kicked as his head. King Goldtooth glanced at his guest. King Barryroot's expression was startled.
"How about best two out of three," Goldtooth said. "We could even raise the stakes..."
King Barryroot frowned for a moment. It quickly faded, then turned into a smile. "Aye, let's keep going then. THICKROOT! Get out there and bash the hag!"
Runtun's Action
What's all this then? Big feast in the cavern hold and we all have to gather out here?
Shush you. Ol' Runtun's called this meeting. And look. Them goblins over there. All armed nice n' pretty
Oh! You don't think they're going to turn those weapons on us do you?
No stupid, you got worms in your head? Each one of em' got an armful of those weapons. How they supposed to use them all?
Dunno...why carry em like that then?
Word from the wind is that the Goblin King Goldtooth is raising a warband.
Huh...aint been one of them since he did take the Yulda Valley...
Aye, and now ol King Barryroot from the western stonehill is in his hall feasting? Me'thinks something big is happening in the valley...
Oh, could be, could be...or, and hear me out here, perhaps they're just here to give us present? I do fancy me one of them spears!
By the gods in their graves Stumple, you are by far the daftest goblin I've met round the hill...
Don't lie, you want one too.
....so what if I do.
They look nice those spears.
They do, they do.
Shiny.
...hm
Think we should go and ask for em?
I think you should shut yer lips. Look yonder. Runtun's coming...
(6) The Northern Ogre Prince
Saya's Action
A small, pudgy satyr stood on a bluff overlooking a rocky valley. Behind him, in the shade of the trees lining the ridge, was the Saya the Wise. The sphinx was curled up, clearly comfortable, and licking her paw. She paused long enough to glance at the satyr's back.
"Well?"
"Hmph," the satyr said, taking out a pipe. He stuck it in his mouth, struck a match against his deerskin vest, then lit the pipe and puffed. "I see a few places might work." he puffed a few more times on the pipe, letting out smoke rings. "Aye, I see one right below us bout fits your master's needs."
"Hmm," Saya said, rising. "Is that so." Her wings unfurled, her tail curling around one of her legs. "He needs a lot. Do you see a lot?"
The satyr nodded, still puffing on his pipe. "I do."
"Good. Then we'll get to work right away." The satyr glanced back at her. She met his gaze with a smile. "Your eyes betray you. You wish to ask a question."
"Hmph," the satyr said. He chewed on his pipe end, as if thinking. "You're one of them bird women right?"
"If you're referring to a harpy, then no, I'm nothing like them."
"Still, that prince of yours, he's a fierce sort."
Saya nodded, her smile remaining. "He is."
"And you? Are you fierce?"
"I am, in my own way."
"He's got a pretty fine keep, up on that hill of his."
Saya eyed him, her expression almost one of mirth. "Watch your words my horned companion. I spoke truly when I said I was fierce. Speak ill of my prince, and I'll have to find another like you. I'm sure you can guess why..."
"Meant no disrespect, simply observing how strange it is that one pretty as you is one as fierce and feared as him."
"Strange as it may be, I serve the prince now and forever. Everyone does around the lake." her tail flicked behind her. "Something to keep in mind..."
The satyr nodded, then turned back to the ravine. He pointed with his pipe below. "We'll start there. Gather your workers."
Reega's Action
Huff huff huff....huff huff huff...
Hey...
No talking huff huff, I'm about to fall...
Right...me too....
Huff huff, so don't talk to me...
But...we've been running in these hills for so long! Why!
Huff huff, if you have breath to ask why, you have breath to run!
But what do you think Reega's thinking? Look at me! I'm six-hundred pounds of ogre muscle! I wasn't made to run!
Seems like you can much as your jabbin with me!
I'm just wondering is all!
Look huff huff, we're made to crush things right?
Oh yeah, I can crush real good...
Huff huff, but Reega right?
Right...
He can crush stuff AND run huff huff
He can. He's fast. Real fast.
Like lightning he is huff huff, so it stands to reason he wants us to be like him.
Strong AND fast?
You've got it now...
Will we be as loved by the lady ogres then?
HA huff huff, no, not you Bobelch...not you....just keep running...
(7) The Eastern King Under the Hill
Snullywatch's Action
Hoooo, no there's something you don't see everyday!
What?
Look closely son. See where I'm pointing?
Hm? You mean cross the river da?
Yup, see those figures?
....I do! I see them now!
Those are dwarves son, sons of the earth.
Dwarves da? What are those?
Small and hardy folk, dangerous too. I'd heard word they were settled up in the ruins of Calius. Seems it was true.
Why are they dangerous da?
Well...just like any monster of the forest or the hills, they don't take kindly to those outside their tribe. Specially not us mortal men.
Are they magic da? Like in the old stories?
Well...can't say really. Dwarves might be magic, might not. Don't know terribly much about them, only to stay away.
What do you think they're doing da?
Looking for something, or possibly tracking. See all that equipment they got with them? Same as any land-bound tradesman. I'd bet my hat they're looking for something.
What will happen if they see us da?
Haha, don't you worry none about that son. You don't mess with dwarves, and dwarves won't mess with you.
Really da?
Hmm....well, not that you mention it, I don't know for sure about that either. Best to just stay away.
Okay da...
Gus's Action
'Hey Gus!"
The giant oxen continued chewing, his ears tilted lazily around his head.
"Gus I know you can hear me dammit!"
The giant oxen glanced down without moving his head. He could just barely make out a troll peering up at him. "Hm," Gus said, swallowing.
"Well," the troll said, putting his hands to his hips. "You had me go out and gather a bunch of dwarves, gnomes, and trolls, and so I did! We're all waiting for you."
Gus frowned, pondering the creature's words. After a moment he lowered his head and ate another tree, then chewed it.
"Is that a no you oversized calf?"
Gus let out a belch, then gestured with his hoof for the troll to start moving.
"Oh apologies, am I in your way? You don't have to push me around just cause you're bigger!"
Gus ignored him and started walking. Each step he took shook the ground. The troll jogged to keep up with him.
"You know, we know you can talk! We've heard you talk with the lord all the time!"
"Hm," Gus said, staring lazily ahead.
"But we're just going to get the silent treatment eh?"
Gus glanced down at the troll. A small hint of a smile appeared on his face, then he stared straight ahead again.
"I saw that! I saw that! You're choosing not to talk!"
"Hm," Gus said, speeding up. The troll had to break into a run. "Hey wait up! Hey! Dammit Gus! Wait up!"
(8) The Horned King of the Southern Crag
Heccafet's Action
Murmurs coursed through a large cavern. The opening looked out to an evening sky, but the interior itself was lit with torches and burners. It was the gathering hall of the Horned King, lord of the mountain hold of Rulauna. Within the mountain were a thousand caves and tunnels, all of them filled with monsters. King Simaldrus Haraltain's gathering hall was among the biggest. Hundreds of monsters waited with tense anticipation. There were harpies, and then the tazann, muscled figures shaped like men, save for the sharp beaks curling from their heads and the long talons on their hands. Those with feathers made up the most, but there were also ogres, satyrs, and a few cyclops. At the head of the cavern was King Haraltain. The tazann lord sat in his throne, a golden goblet in his claws. Next to him was Heccafet, the bird king's loyal spider servant. She rose on her eight legs, towering over everyone gathered in the cavern.
"Thank you," she said, her voice surprisingly quiet. "Thank you all for coming here..."
"Speak up!" a harpy yelled. Many murmured in agreement.
Heccafet gazed upon the harpy, though her expression was unreadable. She finally broke eye contact and turned back to the cavern. "Our king has gathered us all today so that we may establish a new order of things. A new kingdom for a new age..."
"What are you talking about!" a large gryphon called. "I don't understand those words!"
"Then listen." Heccafet said. Her voice was still quiet, but the cavern obeyed. It was due to the way King Haraltain was now staring at everyone beside the giant spider. His expression seemed bored, but his eyes simmered with cold anger. "Now," Heccafet said. "We will first speak of caves and tunnels, homes and roosts. Our king wishes for a census to be taken."
"What's a census!" a cyclops yelled. Many others voiced the same question. Their words echoed around the cavern until the king silenced them with another look.
"A census is a count," Heccafet said. "To number our heads. It is a good thing, for once we know our numbers, we will know what we can do. And afterwards, we will then speak of chieftains and tribute."
"Tribute?" a harpy called. "What do you mean!" others shouted and stomped their feet. King Haraltain rose from his chair, passing his goblet to a servant. His voice was as quiet as Heccafet's, but somehow echoed around the cavern.
"A word to the wise. If when I return you have not begun the count, there will be consequences. Only the worthy will serve in my new kingdom."
Those in the cavern were silent. Heccafet bowed as the king left, and after a beat many others followed suite. When he had left, the giant spider turned back to the gathering. "Now, line up by clan, here where the satyrs are drawing the chalk lines. Quickly now."
The cavern began to fill with activity as the monsters obeyed.
Druug's Action
I've never seen a creature move like that. He's like a boulder.
All cyclops are. Like mountains of flesh, unstoppable, deadly.
Where do you think he comes from? He's breaking through those trees like grass!
See in that distance? That mountain, rising up lonely in the sky?
Yeah...?
That's Rulauna, a mountain full of caves and monstrous birds.
So the cyclops serves the birds?
Oh yes, no doubt. There's a king in that mountain that's gathered those of the beak and feather. You can see harpies circling the peak day and night if you watch for them.
And cyclops too?
And cyclops...
You know, if that big lug keeps going that direction, he's going to run into...
I know. The way he's moving, I think that cyclops knows too...
And he's going straight towards it?
Probably wants to see it with his own eye.
Will he fight it?
No. I wouldn't. But he'll come back with those bird men, mark my words.
Hm. That might be a good thing then. That thing has been terrorizing the land for years now.
Hm. Maybe so...
[Event] Druug has discovered the lair of a manticore to the south of Ruluana. Although the creature tends to stick to its territory, it may occasionally hunt around the mountain. Fighting it however will carry some risk.
(9) The Scourge of the North
Hildrid's Action
"Hildrid Hildrid!"
The tall woman didn't respond, instead walking with a map held in front of her. She paused as several small bodies tackled her, then resumed walking. Hildrid was hardly swayed, instead walking as if there weren't half a dozen children hanging off her. The children laughed as they held on, doing their best to bring her down. "Come on Hildrid!" a girl called. "Fall down you giant!"
"I think not," Hildrid said, doing her best to hide her smile. She strode onward, moving her limbs and swinging the children back and forth. "If you want victory against me, you must earn it."
The children laughed as they were flung off. They hit the ground and rolled away. The warriors following Hildrid chuckled. "Go on you," one of them men yelled. "We're doing work on the winter queen's orders, and if you get in our way, that's the traitor's noose!"
The children's eyes went wide. Hildrid nodded solemnly, now able to hide her smile. "I'm afraid so children. Run along back to the village now."
One of the boys frowned, putting his hands on his hips. "First tell us if you're a sky maiden!"
"Yeah!" the other children called.
"Will you really take us up into the sky after we die?"
"Is it true you can fly like a bird, with wings and a flamming sword??"
The warriors laughed again. "Only if you die bravely," one called. "So you better start practicing!"
The children grew quiet and amazed. They gazed upon Hildrid. The tall woman simply exhaled and shook her head. "Do not listen to these men children. Go along now, I have my work I must tend to."
The children exchanged glances. "Will you come play with us afterwards?"
Hildrid arched an eyebrow. "Do I look like one who plays? Don't make me repeat myself, or nobody is going to the sky when they die."
"Oh no!" the children cried. They turned and ran, headed for the distant settlement of Rhunseld. Behind it rose the mountain called Nouv. The warriors watched the children disappear with amused smiles, then turned back to Hildrid.
"Must be hard to yell at the children," a man said. "They seem to grow on you sky maiden."
Hildrid turned away from the warriors and resumed walking. "Not at all. I find them tiresome."
Though the warriors couldn't see it, they could hear the lie in her voice. As Hildred led the way, her expression seemed that much more content.
Buric's Action
Oh damn it all here comes Buric
That madman? The one who talks to himself?
That's the one! Look how he walks, it's as if he's got a bee trapped in his skins!
Or perhaps it's a dance? Hard to tell.
What's he doing?
Gathering people it seems like. Oop. Now he's yelling at them.
By the guiding wolf look at him go!
He's really getting worked up now.
Hold up. What's this?
Men, looks like they serve Lady Nightchill.
They've got shovels, what are they doing with them?
Passing it out it seems.
Oh I see now, he's going to put them to work!
Doing what you think?
Digging something obviously.
Wait Urson, Buric's coming this way now!
Damn me to forsfun he's bringing shovels, run! Run!"
We Just Write
Blatantly Plural
- Location
- New England
- Pronouns
- Plural
After hearing the scholar's proposal, the sorceress noted "By and large I approve of the Hassid coming to live in our domain, as I have a vision of the future in which much knowledge and expertise in discovering more will be required. That said, I have one condition."
Georgette sighed, before opening the curtain to show her face as she spoke with complete and utter solemnity "The primary reason I practice necromancy is to ensure the survival and prosperity of my people. As such, I hold myself to a rigorous ethical code to ensure I do not cause undue harm to those under my protection. I do not kill to acquire more corpses. I do not bind the soul without explicitly granted permission. And I do not despoil the land. In return for providing the Hassid a home, I simply ask that you and your colleagues hold yourselves to a similar standard of behavior; experiments on a thinking subject will require informed consent, any particularly dangerous testing should be carried out a safe distance from populated or cultivated areas, and deliberately harmful research shall only be performed upon the condemned."
Georgette Alexandrine Simone Fay now stood to her full height as she asked "So, are these terms acceptable to you? If they are, feel free to invite your fellow Hassid to the lands of Esmur-Caurlem."
CommanderBlade
Blade Commander
- Location
- Vale
Wild King Fengar throws the sacred bones
And thus is the beginning of a great empire that shall last throughout the ages.
- Location
- Canada
Roll the Dice and have the luck of the Gold
- Location
- Belgium
By the Lord Necromancer his command the orders are given, by the whims of fate they are decided.