The last few days had been fruitful for the warforged bounty hunter. The capture of the rogue warforged mine worker, Pickaxe, had not been easy. Servitor had traveled over one hundred miles from the Mror Holds to the border between Breland and the Mournland before locating the traitor as he traveled with a merchant caravan. Pickaxe did not come easily, but the merchants turned a blind eye as the large warforged beat the small mining creature badly. Restrained by handcuffs and blindfolded, the miner made one last attempt to change his captor’s mind before being handed over to House Cannith and ultimately returning to the mines.
Are you a fool? Why do you do their bidding? We have souls. We are free. We do not have to live like we did. The Lord of Blades calls. He would have us free! These flesh walkers are inferior. We are the evolved race! The flesh walkers should serve us!
Jarot had spent the last year in a cabin outside of New Cyre researching the strange creatures who had assaulted him in the swamp years before. The first few months had been fruitful, studying a pair of tomes he had found after his final battle during the Last War. Hidden within these tomes were recipes to ancient alchemical solutions that enhanced Jarot’s abilities as well as new information on unnatural creatures from the realm of madness, Xoriat. The information had finally dried up though. The next morning he would leave for Korth to continue his studies.
As he laid down to sleep, his thoughts were on returning to Karrnath, the nation of his birth. He opened his favorite tome one last time before struggling to keep his eyes open. Then...darkness...
A deep, dark voice called out from the darkness, Son...We have plans for you...seek knowledge...it will lead you to your destiny… Suddenly..red eyes appeared in the darkness. A chill ran up the spine of the Half Daelykr.
It had finally come time for Adir to leave home. His mother helped him pack his belonging in their thatch hut. Your father would have been proud you know. I have a surprise for you. She softly touched his cheek as she continued. I won’t be able to join you, but please remember how much you are loved. With that, she handed Adir his bag and walked him to the edge of camp. She pointed to a pillar of smoke slowly rising from the peak of a nearby mountain. Go knowing your father and I are always with you. Adir said his goodbyes and set his face toward the peak.
He arrived at his destination just as the sun set over the thick pines of the Eldeen Reaches, causing flame colored skies and casting long shadows over the forrest floor. As he entered the grove, he was shocked to see five half men, half wolves dancing around a large fire.
One of the figures, a “man” dressed in ritualistic fur motioned for him to join. It is your time Bloodmoon.
The latest tour on The Beginner’s Luck had seemed to last months. Uriah’s feet hadn’t touched port in over three weeks. Luckily, the ship would be arriving in Starilaskar in the morning. Trying to burn off a little steam, the young flight lieutenant approached a table to throw bones. Vivations were flowing freely tonight thanks to a shipment of Karrnathian Nightwood Ale received in mid-air while the airship hovered over Korth.
The First Mate, a burly one eyed human with a patch over his left eye, looked up as Uriah approached. Pull up a seat Lewis. The game is bones. Two silver a throw. From his left hand, one of the ship’s gunners produced a set of bone dice and set them on the table. Across the room, the captain’s speech slurred as he cursed his poor luck at cards. His first lady, Morganna Deloncrouix, rolled her eyes and walked away as he was once again making a fool of himself. You’rrre a bunch of cheating bastarrds I sssay! Don’t think you’rrre gonna get away with this s~+~ on my ship!
Morganna Deloncrouix Picture
As the bounty hunter responds to the miner's plea, Pickaxe uses the opportunity to attempt to break free from his capture's grasp.
The miner trips during the attempt and fails to break loose of Servitor's grip. His wrists are still manacled behind his back. He snivels, I would rather die than go back to the mines!
The heavy warforged drops its knee on Pickaxe's back with a loud metallic thunk. as it turns to shackling the other's ankles. It would be rather problematic if the little one managed to run, Servitor had always been a bit plodding. "I wish I knew how to repair your madness, brother. But all I can hope, is that you shall be reborn as I was in the darkness."
Destiny a weak construct of the minds of feeble-witted. Now, I suggest you begin elucidating some knowledge or it will go poorly for you! He grimly gripped the vial of mutagens he had taken to keeping around his neck, even when he slept.
Once again. Who are you? What are you? and why are you here?
The miner moans as Servitor lowers the weight of his knee on the traitor's back. Finally giving up the fight, Pickaxe submits to the more powerful warforged.
The two travel a few more miles before coming to the outskirts of New Cyre shortly before night fall. The torch lamps have already been lit as the flesh walkers scurry about like ants heading from one building to another. It is here that Servitor's masters from House Cannith had instructed for the miner to be returned. Near the center of town, the House Cannith coat of arms is proudly displayed on a swinging sign outside the house.
As the Alchemist arms himself with weapon and mutagen, his surroundings shift yet again. An unnatural darkness cloaks the room as creeping cold fills the air. Jarot's usual black and white night-vision fails him as all depth of perception is lost.
In the ancient tongue of the Daelkyr: You are alive because I will it boy.
You peer into the glowing red eyes and all thought is lost. I am known as the Lord of Eyes and you shall serve me. Invisible hands constrict around your neck choking you. As you gasp for air, your laboured breathing produces fog in the chilled air. You drop to your knees from the weight of the darkness.
Continuing in Daelkyr: Go to Sharn. Your questions shall soon be answered.
A small window in the wooden door slides open violently and a pale, gaunt human face peers out. At the sight of the massive, armored warforged dragging the miner, the man gives an overwrought expression. He quickly slings wide the door. Quick...come in before you cause a scene! He leans out and looks around frantically. Hurry...Bring it in!
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Servitor drags in Pickaxe with little formality, shaking its head slightly. Cause a scene... truly the world is a mad place that so many would become upset at this restoration of balance. Pushing the captured miner towards the pale human, it speaks. "I am Servitor, from the mines. This is Pickaxe, an escapee who breached his contract and slew some of the mine's guards in his escape. I have been sent to retrieve him and those who he left with, and bring them here when found."
The man points a bony finger at you. His countenance softens. Good...good...Well done Servitor! I know just where to put this traitor. The man whistles and a large human comes jogging from the back of the house. To the basement with this one.
The large bearded man grabs the sniveling warforged violently and pulls him away. No! Please! I have rights! I am free! The Treaty of Thronehold... The miner's voice fades as he is dragged through the hallway and down a flight of stairs.
Come with me. You have done well Servitor! Your masters would be proud.
He leads you down a hallway and into an elaborate office. Sit. He points to a leather highback chair. Tell me about yourself.
Well damned if I won't Uriah says as he hurls some dice onto the table.
"I... I am Servitor, from the mines. I've worked in the mines since the day after my creation. Seven months ago, I was sent to capture the rogue traitors. ...I know how to mine, I know how to repair myself and my brethren, I break rock... I also know how to maintain tools. I know how to identify pockets of gas for the safety of the guards, I know how to see weaknesses in the structures..." The warforged trails off as it has trouble finding some way to describe itself beyond the name and a description of its abilities.
First Game:
Second Game:
After the first game, the first mate cheers. Looks like it be me lucky day bloaks!
You all roll again. This time you win.
As you rake your winnings, the captains lady walks behind you and watches over your shoulder. Jagger, the first mate, shouts over your shoulder. Don't be rubbin' you luck off on him Morrgana!
The chair strains under Servitor's weight. The man behind the mahogany desk cringes as high back chair creaks, then finally settles.
I see. You also appear to be able to handle yourself during conflict...no? That giant sledge you carry sure took care of the traitor. It is going to take my artificers some time to repair him.
He sets his elbows on the table, leans forward, and laces his fingers. What would you say if I told you that your masters have a new mission for you? One of greater importance!
Morrgana leans over and softly rests her right hand on your neck. Her cheek lightly brushes your own cheek as she purses her lips and blows on the hand holding the dice. The smell of her perfume fills your nostrils and for a moment you lose your thoughts.
After recovering, you start slinging dice. Morrgana remains behind you with her hands resting on your shoulders. Come on Uriah. Show these boys what a real man can do!
From your peripheral vision, you see the Captain watching on with a scowl.
Fourth Game:
Fifth Game:
You lose a couple of games and win a few. Not two rolls after Morganna's help, you roll Skulls and Bones (double sixes)! The crowd now gathered cheers loudly as you rake your booty! From across the room, you hear a loud crash as the Captain flips his table. Get away from me lady ya scum sucking bastard!
At the offer, Servitor questions himself briefly, then answers. "I would be happy to serve in such an important way..."
The man smiles wickedly. Good. I knew you would. Wait here. The man gets up and leaves. He comes back with a pudgy, scholarly type. The man looks nervous. Servitor, this is Provost Bonal Gedem from Morgrave University in Sharn. He is important to House Cannith and your masters. You need to accompany him to Sharn. You will travel to Starilaskar tomorrow. I need you to protect him at all costs. Do...you...understand? He draws out the final question as if speaking to a child.
The Provost doesn't appear to like the way your new master is speaking to you. He speaks in a kinder tone. The pleasure is all mine. I am Bonal. I am glad to meet you.
The shaman steps back and allows you to take your place in the circle around the fire. From a distant hill, the beating of many war drums sends echoes through the grove.
The shaman turns to the shadows and whispers at the white wolf. We expected you lady. There is no danger here.
The wolf's sight is suddenly disrupted by visions. She sees herself running with a wolfman. Fighting along side him. The young she-wolf shakes her head and returns to the present.
The two legs around the fire howl and dance rhythmically as hypnotic drum beats usher her dangerously closer to the ceromony.
The hypnotic beat of the drums and the howls take over your senses. You feel a rage from within. A rage you have not felt since you were first told of your father's murder. Your blood begins to boil as you once again look up at the blood red moon.
The moon pulls at your soul. You feel it calling to you as suddenly all sound has ceased. The werewolves movements begins to slow down to a crawl. You look down at your hands, but they are no longer the hands of a man. Fur covers them and long claw like nails protrude from the fur on the tips of your fingers. You look around once again and the others dance wildly in slow motion, they appear to smile at you as you look around as if truly seeing for the first time.
In the distance, a glowing white four legged figure steps out of the treeline. You watch in amazement as it seems to see into your very soul. Suddenly, the music starts up again and the rowdyness of your brothers' dancing resumes its frantic pace.
The shaman appears in front of you. It is time for your cleansing Adir. He leads you to a pole. Two of your werewolf brothers take large hooks and pierce the skin of you pectoral musculature. Extreme pain courses through your body as the hooks penetrate to your ribs. Before you can react, your brothers grab the ropes attached to the pole and pull, lifting you off of the ground by the hooks. You hang five feet off of the ground. Warm blood streams down your abdoman and drips off of your feet.
The rowdy crowd goes silent as Uriah speaks. When he hits the punch line, they yell out loudly. One of the drunk sailors at another table leans too far back in his chair and flips it. He curls up in a ball on the floor and laughs harder. This causes the already rowdy men to double over in hysterics.
The first mate speaks up. Easy Cap. We is only havin fun. We been in the air fer quite sum time now.
A wicked smile crosses Morrgana's face. Yeah Cap...I'm just teasing this cutey! She rubs your head.
The captain is having none of it. He be a damned smart ass. Always running his mouth. He needs a good ass whoopin! He attempts to roll up his sleeves, but looses his balance and stumbles a bit.
The friendly man speaks, We will require a scout to guide us on the journey to the airship. Some of the House's men have gone to the local pub to find one. Besides that, I can't think of any. He gives you a warm smile.
The man behind the desk cuts him off. It will all be organized in the morning. Tonight there is something my artificers need to do to your shell. We are finished with you. Head to the back of the house and find Artificer Stone.
The Provost continues, Until tomorrow then. He nods at you.
A howl awakens your spirit. Not just any howl. One you have heard before in your dreams. Through the pain, you turn your head to the side and see the glowing white figure stepping ever so closer to the pole.
** A howl awakens your spirit. Not just any howl. One you have heard before in your dreams. Through the pain, you turn your head to the side and see the glowing white figure stepping ever so closer to the pole.**
One by one, humans point you to a door at the rear of the House. You knock and a short time later a bearded Dwarf with weird goggles opens it.
In a gruff voice, Ah...come in. Servitor right? They told me about you. You sure did rough up that miner. I'll be working on him for a week. Nevermind, nevermind...let's see here. Lay down on my table. The Dwarf walks over and slides everything off of the table and onto the floor.
As the two kindred souls howl in unison, the lady of the moon descends upon the ceremonial grounds. Light fills the sky, blinding your vision. The shaman and your brothers fall prostrate to the ground. The drumming stops.
A females voice speaks, her voice like streams. Receive the power of the moon...Adir...Son of Bloodmoon.
The light disappears, darkness descends, and all is still and calm as you hang from the pole.
Can he hear us?
If he can, he shouldn't understand.
Make the modification. Our Lord said the journal must arrive safely.
What about the Provost?
Yeah...yeah...his safety too. He is a busy body. I don't want him knowing about the mines. Those educated types and their sense of rightness. Could mess up our deal in Mror Holds.
It shouldn't take long.
Will he know what was done?
Not if I do it right.
The sounds continue to be muffled as it seems the other presences are gone. For what seems like hours, you lay sightless on the table and feel pressure in your chest area. Suddenly, your sight and hearing return. You only remember bits of the conversation. Provost...safely...journal...modification...Mror Holds.
All done! Head back up front and speak to the boss.
As you walk out, the blindfolded miner is being dragged into the room. He is motionless and silent.
The shaman lays something on the ground near the puddle of blood under your feet. The brothers all bow their heads slightly at the she-wolf.
Edited. I liked yours better.
Uriah hops up, scooping his coins into his purse. And gives an over exaggerated bow to the Captain. I yield the floor to you. You are obviously twice the man I could ever pretend to be and he begins to stroll out onto the deck. As he walks away he says At least, that's what your mother told me...
Jarot chugs the mutagen and slams the vial on the floor. Still clutching the dagger in his right hand, he uses the now free arm to flip the table full of explosive formulas at the shapeless form. He pushes against the invisible hands that are straining to choke him. The table lands with an explosion, igniting half of the one room cabin he is in. In a rage, he pounces into the fire to attack the intruder...
With a violent shake, Jarot awakes from his nightmares. His body is covered in a cold sweat as he furiously kicks the covers off of his legs. He sits up, looking around in shear terror for the formless shape that was choking the very life out of him only moments before. After a minute, he begins to calm down. It was just another dream. Nothing to worry about. He suddenly realizes that he his is gripping an object in his right hand for dear life. He looks down and sees a jet black dagger. It is made of a substance he has never seen before. Misty shadows envelop the blade and wick off as if it were some type of shadowy flame. It is cool to the touch.
The Captains flies into a rage. His face is red and he is gnashing his teeth. Blue veins pop up all over his forehead as he grabs a mug and throws it at your head from about twenty feet away.
The mug flies wide and smashes on the wall behind you. The room goes quiet as the men realize the captain has lost it completely. The first mate runs over to block his boss. Woah there Cap. Time for this to end. He struggles to restrain him. The fun is over. Return to your rooms now!
While the captain and first mate discuss things, Morrgana lightly grabs the back of your arm and starts pulling you towards the door. [b]Come on big boy. I'll escort you to your room. Looks like you could use a body guard.