Haftor raised his shaggy eyebrows in appreciation of Trianne's words. "Well spoken!" He adds, "Our foray is more likely to break up a force gathering to attack than it is to incite one."
Jarrek bade farewell to Svarog when the ranger announced he was leaving and listened as Trianne circumspectly described their aims. He nods in agreement with Trianne and Haftor's words. "If we succeed, it should prevent a large, organized attack. And if we don't? It won't likely speed up anything that isn't already in the coming."
The big half-orc laughed. "But with this group, we aren't going to fail! We've already killed how many giants? Four? Five?"
You regained consciousness a few seconds later, your head still spinning from the impact. The remaining orcs had fled, and you learned later that only a few made it back to the forest. The orc’s dying words haunted you. Although you were at first going to take his sword as spoils, the blade somehow felt wrong in your hand, and you left it for someone else.
Because of your status it’s easy to get to Castle Firrine, especially as they’ve recently had some orc raids from across the border. The march to Firrine is only a day. It was an odd feeling for you to go anywhere without the comforting weight of your greatsword across your back, but you managed.
The Castle was its usual bustle of activity, and you easily merged into the whirl of soldiery. You saw a few familiar faces, taking time to chat with old comrades and find out what’s going on. It seemed that an Iomedaen cavalier of your acquaintance who was stationed there had just a few days before been rescued after a raid. Her rescuers were a band of adventurers who’d spent some time in the Hold itself; most of them had come out blinded, somehow, and the word was that no one here was going to cure them. (Opinions seemed about evenly divided between ”Serves ‘em right for going in and stirring things up!” and ”That’s not fair, after they pulled one of ours out of a crack!”) None of the people you talked to had heard anything about a thorn, though. Lacking any better ideas for the moment, you headed down to the border station at the river’s edge. Several warhorses were tied up outside the small keep. As you approached you were challenged by a footsoldier before you could get too close. She recognized your rank tabs, at least, and saluted. ”Sorry, sir. Can’t let you go any closer. Orders.”
A moment later, an officer emerges from the door carrying a couple of bundles, including one that looks like it might be a greatsword wrapped in canvas. He turns back and asks someone inside, ”What did you say the blade was called again? Gorum’s Thorn?”
Kronug grumbles, but won't push past the footsoldier. She's just doing her job...
But on hearing the name of the sword, he realizes he has to move fast before the weapon is buried away in a vault somewhere, or sold to the Society.
He calls out to the officer respectfully - well, as respectfully as this uncouth Kellid Gorumite infantry grunt can manage.
"Sir, Lord Commander, Your Grace..."
He finds himself at a loss.
Would Gorum look askance at him if he asked for the sword?
Would the officer refuse him if he demanded it?
Well then, neither a request nor a demand, but a statement.
If he draws the officer's attention, he will explain.
"An orc that I slew in battle - a priest of Gorum, I think - told me that I would find a sword named 'Thorn' here at Castle Ferrine.
I am a devotee of Gorum.
My greatsword was broken in our duel.
That is a greatsword, and it is named Gorum's Thorn.
I am meant to wield that sword. Sir.
I am no priest. I cannot read signs. But it is as clear as day.
I have fought for Lastwall and trained your infantry. I have conducted myself with honor. What I say about the orc priest is true - bring on the diviners if you wish to test me."
A woman's voice calls from inside the tower. "Kronug? Is that you?"
After any further discussion you may want to have, you'd agreed to have the military folks take care of selling anything extra. As Dame Blix's superior was stepping out with the bundles, he turned back in the doorway and asked, "What did you say the blade was called again? Gorum's Thorn?" That triggered the above shouting from outside. In response, Blix stares as she seems to recognize the voice. "Kronug? Is that you?" She gets an almost mischievous look as she waits for a reply.
Of the locals present, Dame Blix was the one Trianne’s gut trusted the most. If she didn’t look concerned about this somewhat covert gathering being interrupted by this shouting, Trianne felt no need to reestablish the ruse of blindness just now. She caught the gazes of some of her comrades, raising an eyebrow, and snorted, “Too loud to be a spy.”
She shifted her position slightly to see if she could see anything of what was going on outside the somewhat soldier-propped door.
Kronug paces impatiently. He looks at the foot soldier keeping him back, and the officer.
Kept at a distance, he calls back,
"Callie? I mean, Dame Blix? Is that you? Yeah, it's me, Kronug."
Trianne, it's hard to see from inside. Blix shakes her head. "Damn, he found out I was promoted. I wanted to surprise him." Then Trianne's comment registers. "I don't *think* he's a spy, but he hasn't been through the full vetting process. Hmm...Knight-Commander, are you prepared?" Feldhan nods. Blix calls out, "Let him pass. And Sergeant, I want to see a proper salute!"
Haftor watches with interest, anticipating a lively exchange.
Jarrek nods at Trianne but doesn't say anything as the voices outside get louder and closer.
The Kellid warrior comes into the room.
He is of average height (about 5'9") but powerfully built, with black hair and dark brown eyes. He wears somewhat beaten and grimy fullplate, with a buckler on one arm, a bow on his back, and a dagger at his belt. The lack of any serious melee weapon is a notable absence in what is clearly an infantry warrior.
On seeing Dame Blix, he gives a quick look for rank insignia, stands to attention, and salutes properly. But his knowledge of military protocol seems to end as soon as he opens his mouth.
"Sir! Ma'am! Your Grace!" No, that's for vicars... or dukes?
He maintains the salute until she returns it.
"Sergeant Kronug reporting!"
Seamus watches the interaction with rapt attention, saying nothing at first and then leaning over to Trianne, Wait, NOT a spy? Got it... he then straightens up in his seat and continues eating peanuts and watching the interaction between Dame Blix and this newcomer Kellid. His shock of red hair standing up straight.
Trianne’s half-smile slips into the genuine article at the Kellid soldier’s entrance. Her eyes flick back and forth between Svarog and Kronug, marveling how the region shapes its people to the same purpose but still makes them so distinctly different. Still, if this man’s earlier words are even half-true, he seems to have the potential to serve in Svarog’s stead. She knows though that there’s a distinct difference between being willing to wield Gorum’s Thorn and being willing to carry such a target deep into the heart of the enemy.
She has questions upon questions, as she always does. This is not the time though. The rigid hierarchy of those present is thick in the air, and though she had fled such rigidity in her youth, she respects its power and purpose.
So she watches, fingers of one hand drumming idly on the tome chained to her waist and the itch to read, to pore over what is within, clamoring inside her.
Feldhan stands and returns the salute. "At ease, Sergeant. Let's see this sword." Blix' superior (who still hasn't introduced himself) unwraps the bundle and hands the sheathed sword to Kronug.
Kronug, the sheath has clearly seen better years, if not decades. The blade itself, though, is a masterwork. Although it was never polished after forging, the edges are pristine lines that catch the light in a way that seems to promise lethal effect. The hilt fits your hands as if it was made for you. You take a practice swing or two; it's a little more point-heavy than you're used to, but you quickly realize that that makes it more effective with low, sweeping strokes that properly done could knock down a larger foe. Your focus on the sword is sufficiently intense that you don't immediately realize that the Knight-Commander is trying to get your attention.
"Sergeant,...Sergeant? Are you ready for a promotion?"
"Sir! Yes sir!"
The sword calls to Kronug. He envisions beating the flat of the blade against his armor while shouting his triumphs as a prayer to Gorum, as some of the warriors in his tribe used to do.
He imagines the sword cleaving deep into the hearts of his enemies. Deserving enemies, of course. Those who would make war on Lastwall, maybe.
"Does this promotion come with a new mission, sir?"
"Possibly." The paladin looks around at the party. "It's up to them, though."
Seamus looks to the Paladin, then to this Kronug, and then to Trianne, Can he come too? We could use the extra help for certain. What do you say Jarrek? Haftor? I think he'd be a very helpful looking fella.
Jarrek looked from Seamus to the unintroduced paladin. "So we're not being quiet anymore?" The big half-orc chuckled and shook his head. "I don't care who comes with us as long as they're ready to kill giants." He looked at Kronug. "What do you say? You ready to fight a whole tribe of things that can kill you by stomping on you with one boot?"
He looked at Kronug. "What do you say? You ready to fight a whole tribe of things that can kill you by stomping on you with one boot?"
Ah, the half-orc is challenging my warrior prowess. He wants to see if I show fear.
The Kellid replies nonchalantly, "Can they, though? They are welcome to try.""So we are to fight giants? Very well. Gorum may favor me, or he may not. I have received training from dwarves in how to best fight such foes, and we shall see if it is enough."
"I am Kronug - gladiator, Pathfinder, and soldier. I was called 'the Merciless' by my tribe after I let a foe flee in shame rather than mercifully finishing him off. I used that name in arenas of the Southlands since the crowds liked it. Mercy depends on your point of view, but fear not, I will be guided by the needs of the mission and the wishes of my companions."
"I would be glad to accompany you."
Trianne’s arms crossed in front of her as the men started posturing. She wasn’t opposed to Kronug joining them. In fact, one of the facets of Svarog she had liked most was his simple forthrightness. No frills or agenda. Kronug seemed to manifest those traits similarly. Still, there had been talk of deception and agents, and she liked to understand what was going on in the minds of those around her.
When a moment of quiet came, she stepped into it with her long legs and looked the Kellid down and up, mouth quirking momentarily as she realized she was a bit taller than him. She nodded respectfully as she introduced herself.
“I’m Trianne Ashton, transmuter and artificer by trade, and I only have one question,” she said. “Tell me, Kronug the Merciless…why do you fight?”
The Kellid looks at the tall Ulfen woman and nods in return. "Well met, Trianne."
He thinks for a moment. "Our reasons change, do they not? First, I fought because it was the way of my tribe and it pleased Gorum. Everybody fought. It was how our tribe survived.
Then, in the arenas and with the Society, I fought because I found I was very good at it and it made me wealthy."
"Now, since being here in Lastwall, I have come to find some value in 'civilization' and see a role in protecting it. From orcs. From undead. Maybe from giants. I admire the men and women Lastwall. The bastion of civilization against the evils beyond. I admire their dedication, but I know they sometimes need allies who are a bit more... unbound. So I fight to protect."
"But underneath all those reasons, there is this: the drive to prove myself and test myself against greater and greater challenges. Until one day the challenge is too great, and I die, but I go before Gorum with my head held high." The thought doesn't seem to bother the Kellid.
"I will not let my pride get in the way of the mission. And I have learned that I fight better alongside allies than on my own. But if I can help you slay giants, I will."
Seamus listens to Kronug's answers, considering, I suppose it is a function of being this far north we attract northern peoples. In Andoran, where I hail from, there aren't a lot of Kellids or Ulfen, but certainly know of them. You do be seeming a decent sort Kronug. I'm Seamus, and they do be bringin' me along to deal with traps and the sort - but also because I enjoy exploding giants, and orcs, and undead, and traps, locks, chests, anythin' really. the gnome hops up from where he was sitting, extending a small, soot-blackened hand to shake the big warrior's hand formally.
The Kellid looks at the gnome. He slowly extends his hand to shake Seamus's. Kronug seems wary, and appears to be choosing his words very carefully as he speaks.
"I greet you with respect, Seamus, child of the First World. It is my hope that we should be allies against these giants."
He clearly seems less at ease speaking to a Gnome than he does to an Ulfen or a Half-Orc.
Trianne smirked a bit at the interaction between Seamus and Kronug. Also a point in favor of the Kellid. A spy would have handled that unusual interaction more fluidly. She let her smile fade as she spoke.
“You had me at ‘Our reasons change,’” she said to Kronug. “I generally don’t cater to lunatics, all single-minded and maniacal. So I’m grateful for the thought you put into your words. Charging into battle is fine, and good luck beating Jarrek there, but it’s senseless violence I don’t stomach well. You seem like you have a good head on your shoulders though. Let’s try and keep it there.”
She returned to her original spot, saying to Haftor as she went, “He’s fine by me.”
Haftor stood by, considering the situation. He walked up to Kronug, offered his hand, and shook. "I am Haftor Ygrendir, Warpriest of Torag. It is good to meet you, Kronug. I also think you would make a fine addition to our group, but there are two matters that we must discuss."
He turns to Blix's superior. "Knight-Commander Feldhan, is it? We could use a good man like Sergeant Kronug, but he is a soldier of Lastwall, and we are members of the Trunau militia. We are allies, of course, but wouldn't you be putting your man in a position where he is serving two masters?"
Kronug thinks about the dwarf's words. He has a couple of ideas, but would not be his place to speak before the Knight-Commander offers his thoughts.
Jarrek grins at Haftor. "Before this all started I was just a caravan guard. Last I checked, none of us had any stripes out there in the wild." He looks over at Trianne and Seamus, gesturing at Kronug. "I like him."
Feldhan listens to the discussion, but nods slowly when Haftor speaks. "Trunau, is it? That answers a lingering question I had."
Blix' as-yet unnamed superior interjects, "There's no question of divided loyalties here. He would be on detached service, assigned to support your mission to Redlake Fort--" At this, Feldhan gives Blix and her boss a faintly exasperated look. "--and to report what happens there as best he can. Yes, Knight-Commander, they told Dame Blix what they were doing when they met in Ghostlight Marsh. Her report apparently hasn't reached you yet."
Feldhan looks a bit mollified.
Haftor looks back and forth between the Knight-Commander and Blix's boss. He's beginning to get the feeling that the Lastwall troops don't entirely trust him, and it's getting his back up a bit, though he tries not to show it.
"I may not be a paladin, but I am a Warpriest of Torag, and I assure you what we intend to do at Redlake Fort is entirely above-board. We will not be leadin' your man astray, nor tarnishing your reputation. You have my word on that."
He can't help himself from adding, "I shouldn't need to say that, but I'll do it anyway, for the record."
Seamus pipes up, Haftor's right, we're on a good thing 'ere, and what we're about is important. But if we don't say everything, it helps out right? he turns back to Jarrek, That's how this works? Right?
The gnome turns back to the paladin, I don' know what would help here, I donno what the protocols are, but he'd sure be helpful in the field to us. Annother sword'd be real useful where we're headed.
“Especially that sword,” Trianne adds, pointing a finger at Gorum’s Thorn. “We retrieved it at no small cost from a Council of Thorns cache, with their blessing for the intent to use it against the invaders. If a calling has brought Kronug and Gorum’s Thorn together, I would abide by it.”
“Our mission to the fort also explains our choice of conveyance,” she continues. “Captain Bloodtusk and his crew have been exemplary so far. Please extend them what courtesies you may without endangering your strategic goals.”
Jarrek grunts and nods at Seamus. "After what happened on the boat I'd say not saying everything right out in the open definitely helps." He looks at Kronug, Trianne, and the paladins. "I don't know what you're worried we're gonna do, but unless you have a problem with us killing a bunch of orcs and giants I can't see how you'd object."
"I've been concerned about the Twisted Hearts for some time, actually, and anything we can do to support you is effort well spent. I wasn't able to convince my superiors to act earlier; we had reinforcements ready if they tried to attack Lastwall, but didn't realize they were preparing for an attack on Trunau. Your people paid the price for Lastwall’s caution. Still...if you can find out why they chose to target Trunau, that would be useful to know. There's too much we still don't understand about Belkzen, and it's killing us. And you."
Kronug nods. From what he has heard, Lastwall has been losing ground to the orcs for hundreds of years. About time we took the fight to them.
"Detached service. That works for me. You are not under my command, Jerrek, so I won't try to command you, stripes or no. That being said, I do have some squad tactics knowledge that it might benefit you to follow - but that is your choice at all times."
To Haftor and Jerrek he adds, "The paladins do things a certain way... and it is possible that at some point we might have to make alliances or deals that are the lesser of two evils. Even do something underhanded for the good of Lastwall and Trunau. Maybe some deception or trickery. I have no problem deceiving the enemy. But I will act in what I judge to be the best interests of Lastwall, even if that is not exactly the way a paladin might do it."
He addresses his unnamed superior.
"Whatever 'full vetting process' Dame Blix refers to - whatever tests you wish, sir - I am ready to provide I am no spy."
Feldhan nods. "I'm going to cast a spell now that will compel you to speak the truth. Please don't resist it. Once I've finished casting, tell me what you think of Lastwall and your service."[b] He looks around at the rest of the party. [b]"It's an area of effect around me, so please step back. Dame Blix, Sir Leithan--you stay close. I'll be asking you, too, as long as I'm here."
Sir Leithan, is it?
Kronug accepts the spell.
"Yes. I am Kronug, called Kronug the Merciless by some.
I am a soldier of Lastwall with a five-year enlistment contract. In my third year. I expect to renew my contract when this one ends. I serve as infantry and I train new recruits in squad tactics.
I have found the military of Lastwall to be valiant, disciplined, and honorable. And as proud as I am to be infantry, I cannot deny that Lastwall's cavalry is truly outstanding.
I have also found Lastwall to be tradition-bound and overly cautious, relying too much on defense when offense is called for. This is honesty, not treason; I follow my orders.
I respect Lastwall's mission of protecting civilization against the savagery of Belkzen and the horrors of the Whispering Way. I am committed to this mission as well.
I will act on this mission according to what I judge to be in the best interests of Lastwall and I will not betray the nation or its military."
He looks at Feldhan. "Is that sufficient?"
Jarrek glances at Trianne when the paladin asks them to find out why Trunau had been attacked, since he was pretty sure she had figured out what Skreed had been after under the town. But for once the garrulous man doesn't open his mouth. The big half-orc steps back when asked, watching curiously as Kronug undergoes his questioning.
Haftor was a bit surprised that Feldhan intended to question Blix and Leithan right in front of them, but he wasn't going to excuse himself just as this whole interaction was getting really interesting, so he kept his gob shut.
"Dame Blix and Sir Leithan, have you done anything since you were last questioned that would cause me to doubt your loyalty to Lastwall?" Both answer in the negative. "Thank you both. And Lieutenant Kronug--congratulations." He reaches to clasp forearms with the Kellid.
Once the Knight-Commander steps away, Blix wraps the fighter in a strong embrace. "Good luck, ya ground-pounder! Just remember I've got more time in grade than you!"
Kronug salutes Sir Leithan. "Thank you, sir. Lieutenant Kronug ready for detached service."
To Dame Blix, the Kellid returns the embrace.
"Good luck to you as well."
He silently adds to himself You may have more time at grade, but I will return having slain more and bigger foes, Gorum willing.
Haftor nods approvingly, though not so much at the hugging. "To be clear, Gorum's Thorn is now the property of Lieutenant Kronug, and not of the Lastwall Army, right?"
Kronug shrugs. "Doesn't matter to me if I own it or just am issued it to use.
Because I'm not going to sell it. I'm going to use it to fight the enemies of Lastwall and Trunau. And when I die then I hope another takes it up for the same purpose.
Where do we go next and when do we leave?"
Feldhan smiles. "It's his. Far be it from me to challenge the fate that brought them together."
Jarrek nods at Kronug. "Place called Redlake Fort." He glances at Dame Blix. "We've heard some bad stuff happened there, something about the last castellan. That on top of fighting orcs and giants."
“But first, I’m glad to hear you’re flexible, Kronug,” Trianne says. “Because we’ll be beginning with a deception. Three of us were blind when we arrived, but by the grace of Sir Feldhan here, that is no longer the case. They’ve asked that we maintain that ruse though, to appear to any enemy agents as though we did not receive aid from Lastwall, considering we’re heading back into enemy territory.”
“So we’ll need you and Haftor to guide us back to our ship in due course,” she adds. “And we’ll be acting downtrodden and angry about it until we get far enough upstream. Sound reasonable enough?”
The Knight-Commander looks away during the discussion.
Along with the mercantile activities, the party is able to get a message to the dwarf woman, and receive her reply.
My thanks to you for avenging the deaths of some of my companions, and for your story. Now I should share mine.
My brother Umlo and and I set out from Highhelm in search of our ancestor's tomb, with two hired soldiers. We are descended from the great giantslayer Nargrym Steelhand. From my research, I found indications that the tomb lay in Ghostlight Marsh. We found an ancient set of standing stones in the heart of the marsh, but were attacked there by three hags and their giant servant. We had slain two of the hags when the last one struck me with a foul magic that robbed me of my sanity. I remember little after that; it seems to me that my brother pulled me away from the fight after our hired axes were killed by the giant, but the next thing I knew I was sitting in front of Knight-Commander Feldhan, my senses restored.
I still hold onto hope that my brother lives, since the weapons you found belonged to our mercenary guards and you didn't find his prized mithral frying pan. I will remain here in Castle Firrine for a time, waiting for word.
May Torag watch over you in your travels,
Ingrahild Nargrymkin
Underneath is written a few lines of Dwarvish:
Haftor reads the note carefully, then reads it again, mouth twisted in concentration. He writes a note in reply, in a careful hand:
Good Woman Nargrymkin,
It is a fine story, well told, though a grim one. You do your ancestors proud with your actions. Do not give up the hunt, and know that Torag's sure hand will guide your efforts.
You will be pleased to know that our group slew the marsh giant, though we saw no sign of a hag.
We must leave the region presently, and are not able to assist you, but know that our prayers are with you,
Tars Ygrendir, of the Janderhoff Stonefist Clan, and fellow Giantslayers of Trunau
Afterwards, he shows Dame Blix the note and points out that there is a hag loose in the Ghostlight marsh.