RPG Superstar 2009 Top 4
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Three Months Ago
All was black, and Sturvok flew through the emptiness. Below and above continued out endlessly, yet this seemed a natural and nothing of note. Then beside Sturvok flew another moai who bore his face. The other moai was clad in furs, with his hair in a chonmage. A moment later another Sturvok was decided the two, wearing war paint and missing his front teeth. Then there was another pulling a flute out of a leather case as he flew and began playing it. Than another wearing elven grab and refinement. One that had only one eye and another dressed only in a skirt of iron and gold.
Faster the Sturvoks flew, now nineteen in all, and the first Sturvok thought, “Where are we going that we need such speed?” And as if he had spoken aload a bearded Sturvok answered, “The Toda is finally calling us,” and then he pointed before them in the distance where a stone sword hilted in iron and gilded in gold hang in the distance. Upon sight of the sword the darkness around it pulsed as waves of oilily rainbows leeked into the blackness like the lights of the northren sky. The Toda seemed to be getting closer and as one the Sturvoks reached for the stone blade. The first Sturvok’s, the true Sturvok’s, eyes began to wateras the colors became the brightest of pure white light. Nineteen pairs of hands grasped the Toda and as Sturvok’s finger tips brusted the handle the Toda whispered “Awaken” and the dream was no more.
Slowly the stony lids of Sturvok's eyes opened in the dark, his mouth creased into a thoughtful frown. It was always dark underground, nothing to compare it to but the crackling orange light of fires: forges, fireplaces, torches--the only light he'd ever known. But that sword...the Toda was it? It stirred memories of a light that was very different, that banished darkness the way hot water cleansed away thick grime, revealing the shining metal beneath. What was it? The darkness, as it receeded had broken into other colors, every color, as though the light contained within it the potential of every color...or else the darkness did. Interesting. He rubbed his open hand that had touched the handle of the weapon, as though he could still faintly feel it.
Then suddenly his eyes snapped open wide and his face went slack with dread. He sprang forward in the darkness, parting the doors to his sleeping chambers and rushed out into the hall. How long had he slept? Were the dwarves still here? Was the temple? Had he missed it all again? Overslept by an age and lost another generation of people he had grown to respect. Panic swelled in his chest until it began to rise up the back of his throat. Had he slept too long?
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RPG Superstar 2009 Top 4
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But no. There was no dust on the table and warm air still rose through the vents up from the lower furnaces. Sturvok swallowed. His skin still tingling with panic. He had had the dream many times before, but never with this many verses of himself and none had ever spoken before. It didn’t seem odd, like he had been waiting from them to speak to him. But why now?
Just then there was a light knock at the door and a moment later it opened wide enough for Dimma to stick her head in. She was still young by dwarven standards and she filled out her maid robes nice. If there had been light in the room, he would have been able to see her eyes as the brown that they were. But there was no candle lit and they were gray just like the rest of the world in the tunnels.
“Master Sturvok, High Redman Sibiliar told me to wake ye if ye had not awaken by mid-cycle. There be some visitors up from the south he would like ye to meet. Some o’ them are of your people I believe Master Sturvok. I haven’t seen them me’self, but that be the work about the tunnels.”
Dimma spoke slowly and with a sweet, pleasant voice and looked upon Sturvok’s face for a reaction. Like many around the Shard-Tunnels of Bjarnbyrholl, she believed he had never met any of his own people.
“They be taken’ coffee in the south sittin’ room, whenever ye be ready ta’ join them.”
"...My people?" he started from his reverie with a jolt. His mind was geared for the usual 'please Dimma, just Sturvok--no Master necessary' speech and thus her later comment swept under his guard and landed on his mind with a jarring thud.
From the three-count of shock to his sudden flight to don his armor, Dimma and the rest of Bjarnbyroll's folk were vindicated in their belief. Sturvok was only dimly aware there were others like himself, a fact he had few waking hours to ponder between his studies and training. Perhaps, he thought as he shook on his breastplate, this is what the dream was all about. He thought for a moment to ask her to please tell him what she knew of them...but it was clearly nothing. She hadn't even personally seen them afterall, but his mind was hungry for clues about them and there was precious little to feed it.
He did up the last of the buckles and hefted the helm in his hands, helm or no helm? He put it on and stood upright. Too severe? He took it off and stared at it. He put it back on and looked at Dimma, who was clearly watching him.
He sighed a long breath, slid the shield over his back, and walked to the doorway, thanked her, and made his way to the south sitting room, following the smell of coffee.
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RPG Superstar 2009 Top 4
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In the halls the lamps were lit, green light from the algae within tented the halls in multiple layers of colored shadows. The lamps lit meant that there were non-dwarven guess within the Shard Halls, non-moai too for that matter. The walk was not a short one and gave Sturvok non-wanted time to think. He passed tapestries of Thoorus in his greatness, most showing him in the form of a bear in the dwarven tradition but there were a few in the Aramir style with Thoorus depicted as a bull-man. Sturvok took in the scene more that usual as he rarely saw them in the light. The kidnapping of Shiv Feeo Sciff and Thoorus flight to save her, her being skinned by Blood Maries and Thoorus being tricked to flee the battle, and Thoorus forging her new skin of gold and then her awakening and rejection of him. There were so many lessons to be learned for the story. So many ways to apply those lessons to your life as Sturvok has been learning her in the Shard Halls.
He came to the iron bond door, with runes of strength and Thoorus text burnt within the wood. He paused for a moment and entered and came into the small room that was somewhat crowded. A large fire crackled in the corner turned cloaking the room in orange and mixed with green light from the open door. High Redman Sibiliar set in a large stone bottomed chair backed in cherry and cushioned in soft leather. He smoked his fat butted pipe as he turned to see who had entered. He was dress in the red coat of his office and a fur trimmed half cloak. A smiled broke through his blond beard dyed red at the tips and he stood, “Tyro Sturvok, I be glad to see ye, lad. There be some fellas here that’a came a long way ta’ see ye as well..” Sibiliar used his pipe to point jestering out to the visitors. “This here be Gorgoron o’ the Lonely Tower, near New Teshla. He and this here moai gentleman, Calcius, have accompanied Master Arnor here upon my request. .” Gorgoron’s green eyes studied Sturvok, wore robes of a strange cut decorated in a leaf motif as did his many belts and pouches. It was his pointed ears that told Sturvok that he was one of the fair folk who fled these lands before he awoke from his last Slumber. Calcius simply glanced over his shoulder and then returned gazing into the fire.
“Master Arnor hail from Ankmer, he be a’hunter o’ moai history.” the High Redman continued, “After ye told me o’ ye dreams about the stone sword I contacted Master Arnor who made a trip here some years back to study and catalog the few moai items we have in storage. It seemed to be haunt’n ye lad. So I wrote him and Master Arnor thinks he might know of the sword you describe as he read about a similar sword at the library in New Teshla.” Arnor had been sitting but stood when Sturvok had came into the room. He wore sleeveless robes and had a shaved head with carefully placed tattoos marking his brown stone skin.
"I am pleased to have been asked to make the journey. Greetings to you, honoured one." The elf speaks in formal but perfect Terran, and offers a respectful bow.
Arnor bows to Sturvok, and upon rising speaks in a formal tone of Common. "Greetings, Master Sturvok. I am Arnor. I understand you have been having dreams of a peculiar nature?"
Sturvok bows to the two visitors in return. "I am pleased to meet both of you, yes I am Sturvok. You are here about my dreams of the sword known as the Toda? My dreams have always been vivid, and of late they seem to linger on this sword and various versions of myself, from different cultures, wearing different garb, some with varying disfigurements--missing eyes or teeth, all seeking the sword.
He crosses the room and stops in front of the fire, turning to face his visitors.
"I'm of the belief that these others are perhaps past lives I've lived. Eighteen others in all. They tell me Toda is finally calling us--my duplicates and I. If you know where this sword is, I would be interested in accompanying you."
Switching to common Gorgoron chimes in, "On learning that this sword was the subject we were to investigate, I conducted a bit of research into the matter as well."
Calcius nods courteously to Sturvok while he searches his memory.
"Before leaving the tower I conducted some research in our libraries on legends regarding the Toda. There were multiple references to stone swords containing powerful magic. They were particularly a recurring theme in any volume concerning Moai culture or history. The figure of Ishfar was particularly prominent, and it was he who was most often depicted wielding the Toda. He was referred to as the Sun Knight and was said to be active just after the first awakening of the Moai. However, there was some room for variation and interpretation in the records, particularly where the translation of Terran to Elven is concerned, as the subject and predicate of the respective languages is determined inversely, leading to the possibility of error in the translation. It could also have been read that Toda was the Sun Knight, while Ishfar was the one who cared for him, in a role such as squire or valet. Reciprocal or mate is another possible interpretation. The writings were translated long ago, and the originals were unavailable to me for study. In addition, they were originally recorded from secondary accounts, leading to the further complication of bias, exaggeration, or distortion through the component tellings of oral history. The only real certainty, a term used loosely, is that Ishfar and Toda, or "the" Toda, were buried around 10,800 years ago. As Moai sleep cycles are such an integral part of Moai society, the date is likely the most accurate piece of information I was able to determine."
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RPG Superstar 2009 Top 4
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RPG Superstar 2009 Top 4
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As Gorgoron is speaking the door opens quietly at the side of the room. Dimma steps in and motions an effeminate, lanky man forward. He is crown with a wild fro of brown hair with a massive streak of gray off his left temple. The gray hairs seem odd about his young face. He give Dimma a slight bow as she exits and then leans against the wall to listen to what Gorgoron is saying. High Redman Sibiliar makes note of Culdren's entry but turns his attention back to Gorgoron as well.
Gives the newcomer Culdren a polite bow before returning to the matter at hand.
"All I can say on the subject comes from these dreams I have had. I have no schooling on the subject and know little of the lore of my people. In these dreams it is clearly a sword, stone bladed with an iron handle and gold tracery. Is it true that you know where it is? I feel drawn to seek it out. It may be very important."
Culdren smirks, stifling a spot of laughter. He clears his throat, shaking his head and stepping forward, his steps hardly making a sound against the cold stone floor. He says, "Pardon my rudeness. For a second, I thought I heard correctly, that you were talking about the last man you want to see in these halls. By the way, might I compliment the architecture of the Halls, it's quite.." he looks up and around, pondering what to say but settles with, "..old."
He returns to the current affairs with a gesture of dismissal, explaining, "In any case, I thought it'd only be appropriate to mention that Antorm..Toda..is quite at home using that name. He's made quite a lot of money off of moai sleeping grounds hasn't he High Redman Silbilar?" He takes a breath and adjusts the brooch of his cloak, muttering, "Before you ask, I'm Culdren." He bites the corner of his lip and links his hands behind his upright posture.
Much as he respects High Redman Sibiliar and is genuinely devout in his faith in Thooris, his calling at the dwarven temple has always been a means to an end...which meant he would have to someday cut ties. This always hurt, because he did not want to dissapoint Sibiliar. But with his introduction to these new people, Sturvok is starting to believe the High Redman has known all along what has had to happen, which makes him respect his dwarven mentor even more.
The idea that the sword and his kinship with his duplicates is literally true has only just occured to him. He had taken the sword as a symbol of his unremembered goals and memories and his duplicates as aspects of himself he would have to overcome to reclaim who he once was. That the sword is a real thing, that it might even be the object of his forgotten quest has filled him with a desperate kind of excitement. He really just wants to bound out the door and go get it, and all the social niceties of this little visit are driving him a little nuts--especially when some folks in the room seem unsure as to whether the sword is even a sword, or if it was a famous hero. Frustrating. He knows what the Toda is. He's seen it. They just need to take him to where it's kept and his lifetimes of searching and debt to his forgotten friends
can be resolved. If they can just get out of the meeting hall!
...and whatever this new guy Culdren's angle is, it irritates him, breezing into this sacred place, full of mocking little expressions and half-reasoned speculations about the Toda, treating it as though it were a joke. It's made a bad first impression.
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RPG Superstar 2009 Top 4
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RPG Superstar 2009 Top 4
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Your Knowledge History however tells you that the "Sun Knight" was one of the first great hunters of undead, and he or she, depending on the tale, battled the Clan of the Owl with a great gorilla warfare campaign.
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RPG Superstar 2009 Top 4
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Sibiliar looks at Culdren with some surprise on his face. "Antorm the archaeologist has taken' on the name Toda? As a house name or has he dropped the name Antorm all together?"
Just then Dimma walks back in with a tray, with two extra cups for Culdren and Sturvok and a new silver pot of hot coffee.
High Redman Siviliar then says, "Yes, yes, this be the way of it. Culdren take a seat, ye too Calcius, Sturvok sit. And Sturvok, take that helmet off boy, this not be a war council. Everyone, take some coffee and try to relax for o'minute. Yall be wishing for these here couches once ye journey begins."
"Now Master Culdren, ye were saying that the known soundrel and archaeologist Antrom has taken the name Toda. Since when and do ye know why?"
"Antorm. I wish I could have better feelings about him. I applaud his efforts to uncover more about our history. My mission in life is to do the same. But selling it to the humans and losing what we could learn from it, that I feel obligated to take issue with. We have lost so much to the Sleep that all we learn must be, at the least, recorded for future generations. If possible, it should all be restored and returned."
Arnor shakes his head thinking of Antorm. He sits and accepts a cup of coffee. "I had not heard that he had taken the name of Toda. I regret that I do not recall more of the great sword, but that it is one of many in Moai legend. I would be honored to be one of those who found it. This Sun Knight, I have heard of, though. He is one of the first great hunters of the undead who currently dwell in Old Teshla, I believe."
Sturvok unstraps his dwarven styled helm and reaches under it, pulling it off of his head and tucking it under an arm. He makes his way to the couch and lowers himself into it, stone armor scraping. He tries to will his body to relax, but to little effect. His jaws are clenched, his posture taut and anxious, his deep eyes flashing with stifled energy.
He follows the conversation while taking a cup of coffee, drinks the whole cup down in a few quick, scalding swallows, and sets the empty plateware to the side. He seems to be measuring Culdren over with a scowl . Despite his initial misgivings, nothing about him seems amiss, and the others seem to be taking his comments matter of factly enough. Perhaps is initial estimate of the man was too harsh...
Culdren grins briefly when Tilly serves him, sitting down and wincing slightly. He lofts a brow when Arnor speaks, listening quietly. "Indeed," he concludes, turning to Silibar and explaining, "I make it my business to know what fools are up to, because it's only a matter of time before they cause a nuisance. I heard from good sources that Toda was a significant part of Moai history, so to take the name was intriguing to say the least. I came here to tell you in hopes of meeting him personally. Despite his...well, being Antorm...I can't help but share his interests in lost artifacts though if he's out of control then I suppose his operations will have to come to an end. As to how long he's kept the name, it's been a few moons; that news is old hat. As to why...probably because he wants to make a profit by claiming the artifacts his to sell."
Calcius politely refuses coffee and instead requests water as he sits. "Forgive my impertinence, but on the matter of Ishfar, the Sun Knight - legend has it that his tomb rests a short distance from my home of Harris' Hunt in the Frontier Wilderness, a few weeks out from New Teshla. It may be worth investigating."
Sturvok nods solemnly at Calcius's words.
"Indeed. I believe I have had enough of couches for the time being. If the tomb lies somewhere where you believe we may find it, I'd suggest we go look. I am eager to be underway, and from the weight and furvor of my dreams, it seems we have little time to spare."
He sits back for a moment, mulling things over, his eyes distant. "Though first there is the matter of this individual who is calling himself Toda. If this is so, we might want to put questions to him. See if he has found his recent namesake, or if he has sold it already--a grave possibility. At the least he may know details about Ishfar's tomb that would profit our visit there. Either way, if he is selling our heritage to fatten his purse, then he is worth looking into regardless..."
"I, too, would like to join in the search. If this tomb is as close as you say, then it should be no trouble to verify whether or not the legends are true."
Arnor puts down the coffee and casts a glance around the room, trying to see if anybody else has noticed it.
Culdren hadn't drank anything yet, the conversation having focused on him and the issue concerning Antorm. He lifts the cup to drink but burns his tongue, wincing in pain. He sets it down and decides to just wait for it to cool off, folding his legs and fidgeting in his seat.
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RPG Superstar 2009 Top 4
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As the conservation moved forward Dimma brought out a tray of bread and butter from the side table. Returning to center table she begins to butter the beards and readies the toaster shaft for the fireplace. As the conversations veers toward Sturvok wanting to putting Androm Toda to the question. She starts walking toward Sturvok with a tray of bread and slices summer sausage.
Bluff
Sense motive:
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RPG Superstar 2009 Top 4
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Gorgoron, I'm going to have you go ahead a roll for the coffee as I don't see these dwarves having tea. Maybe black beer if you had asked for it, but not tea. Culdren, I am going to have the poison effect you, so you are sickened.
Also, everyone roll Inititive. Arnor, you are surprised when the young delightful maid strikes out with lightening speed. Calcius and Gorgoron, you however see her take the knife she cut the sausage with from the tray and it is no kitchen knife, but curved with gold wiring bordering a buck horn handle. She holds the knife low and eye eyes change from that from a innocent young girl to that of eagle coming down upon a rabbit.
Gorgoron drops the cup of coffee, from which he had taken only a sip, just to be polite, when he sees the knife.
Culdren lurches forward as the poison strikes him, eyes leering on the dwarven servant girl. He tugs at the crossbow hidden behind his cloak and sneers, "Couldn't even afford good poison. A street bum would make a better assassin."
When he sees the knife flash, Arnor jumps up, throwing the chair backward. "What in the name of heaven?" This, of course, likely comes after the spray of blood and the cutting off of some important body part from somebody.
Calcius sighs as the events unfold before him. He reaches for his spear, but just can't quite get the knot undone as fast as normal. "Curse my fat fingers."
Initiative: