Living in the Lands of the Linnorm (Inactive)

Game Master Aiunder

The leather and steel of Skallagbiorn's gauntlets creak as the big cleric's fists clinch. Though the brimming anger on his face is hidden under his helm, the glowing red eyes within the visor burn brighter.

Have we succeeded in our mission only to find that it was an expendable venture? Boiling rage fills his insides, forcing him to shift his mind's eye before he buried his blade in the woman's chest. He clears his throat and speaks up, seeking direction other than the murder in his heart.

"What is the Savol's direction, Ursue. Do we follow?" Skall rests a hand the satchel at his hip, acutely aware of the crown held within.

Did the message say that we needed to hurry? Could one of those camps been Savol's? Could he be here to fight them on our ancestral soil?

"Why does he ride? Tell us which way he rode so we can follow him."

We really need a more efficient method of communication than magic bird. Though this One Eye ...she is a fierce one.

"I don't know why the Kodiak puts so much trust in so many foreigners. He was waiting here for you lot to arrive since yesterday but he moved out this morning when reports came in about one of the queen's generals being spotted nearby. He was hoping to catch them before they could reinforce the border. Speaking of which, why did he send you all ahead of the army?"

(Post eaten by forum goblins again)

Rutilux feels teeth grind a bit I respect and honor my lord, but somedays he is as hard to catch and coordinate with as a migrating swallow, worse, for at least you know where the swallow is going to be at a certain time. Add to that accusing glares as if we should KNOW his schedule when no mention was made in a note, and it dampens my mood fierce.

"I don't know why the Kodiak puts so much trust in so many foreigners. He was waiting here for you lot to arrive since yesterday but he moved out this morning when reports came in about one of the queen's generals being spotted nearby. He was hoping to catch them before they could reinforce the border. Speaking of which, why did he send you all ahead of the army?"

"He honors us with his trust because we have earned it, good woman, by blood, sweat, and sacrifice. And he had a mission for us, he sent, so we went," Rutilux says, "You say he rode to the border? Do you know which path he took?"

Skallangbiorn nods agreement with Rutilux's response, glad he didn't share the nature of their mission just yet. "When our own countrymen submit to the authority of evil, then it may take the intercession of outsiders to finish the battle. I learned that lesson recently." He turns his gaze to Julian and Thorvald and nods respect. Then he returns his red glowing gaze back to the woman. "Who are we to question the sword great Gorum places in our hands, or the Claws by which he blesses the Kodiakborne. Who are you?"

Skallangbiorn aches to plant a fist in the woman's face, but instead takes one step forward and folds his arms across his chest. "Who is this general the Savol pursues? We encountered a black-armored knight in our battles. He fled in this direction when he knew the fight was lost. The coward cast spells to allow him to far-step."

Jediah stands as silent as a mountain.

Zethyris avoids the conversation, but whispers to Jediah, "I hope they don't get all uppity with the honour thing now. We've got more important things than to have everyone in a snit over a harsh word."
With that, he waits for it to blow over and prays to the Lucky Drunk that Skall and One-Eye don't start a duel to the death or anything.

Jediah nods. Speaking of brew, it has been a while since we have been able to have a good drink. Let us find something before we have to leave again.

"Aye. I've been saving the last of my Caydenbrew for a special occasion. I'd say safely retrieving the Crown is special enough. Once we return this to Savol, I'll bring it out."

"I doubt the man who fled and Savol's quarry are the same unless your man had two hundred footmen with him. Savol took a hundred swords north a few hours ago, you can't miss the trail." she turns away and starts pointing roughly north west but before she can even turn back you all hear a commotion from up in the rock formation.
"Lone rider coming in from the east!
(Ursue)"What? Is it one of ours?" she turns, blocking the sun from her eyes and scans the horizon.
(Sentry)"Don't think so. Heavily armoured and carrying a banner... No a flag. A white flag!?!"
(Ursue)"Now what in the blazes is is going on." she turns back to you all, "If you'll excuse me. I need to deal with this, whatever it is. You mounts can easily catch Savol if you follow the trail, otherwise your welcome to stop and wait for him here."

With that Ursue turns away and walks in the direction of the eastern edge of camp unless you stop her.

Jediah burps on some ale with Zethyris. Even though it wasn't Caydenbrew, some good spirits to warm the bones before setting out again was a fine treat.

We should try to follow him, although we should get a look at this rider first. Never know what is up.

"Agreed. This rider may provide information to take to Savol." Skallangbiorn looks northward considering their options. "But we should be quick about it. We all know the zeal of our leader has lead him into danger. Gorum rewards the bold, but the Lord in Iron blunts the swords of the foolish."

He scans the direction from which the lone rider approaches. "200 footmen... Word happening to reach the camp of our leader offering up a general of the whore-queen..." Skall turns back to the rest of the party. "The enemy has engaged the Savol enough to know his nature. They may be baiting him into a trap."

The lone rider continues to slowly ride towards the camp, one hand raised to the side the other holds a pole with a white flag on it outwards while the base sits in the stirrup.

A trio of warriors move up to stop the man and warily circle him as he dismounts. The man is clad in bronze coloured plate shaped to look like corded muscle. His face is covered in a mask of the same metal, shaped into a featureless human visage, that rises over his forehead and sweeps back over his sandy brown hair. Hanging from his hip is a longer than usual thin sword. That handle and pommel of the blade appears to have been wrapped and bound shut.

The figure stands a but short for an ulfen but of average height elsewhere in the world but seems unperturbed that three armed ulfen town over him. He looks around, possibly searching for a particular individual, before speaking loudly in a gravelly baritone. "I've come to speak to your war chief or leader. I am alone and have come peacefully. I news that he will want to hear." he looks about as he speaks but his gaze stops abruptly when it comes to rest upon Anastasiya and you can see obvious surprise in his body language, "Hello Annie? What are you doing here?"

"Why would The Whitethrone send a man under a white flag?"

Thorvald watches the man closely and is taken aback when the man calls out to Ana by name.

What new dangers come our way? Curse my weaknesses. How many will die because of those we left behind? Now that Ana has been seen can I let this one ride off unchallenged?!

"You approach under a banner your filthy hag-whores do not honor." Skallangbiorn's red eyes burn with hatred, wisps of smoke emanating from the visor. His mailed hand draws his greatsword in a slow grind of the blessed steel. "Speak your business now, whoreson. Speak it now and receive your meal and refreshment for your mount, as due under the white banner."

He plants his sword before him, the sigil of Gorum under his left hand with his right, he removes his helm. "I am Skallangbiorn, son of Hefelmein, forged weapon of Gorum, soldier of the people that truly belong in these lands." The cleric moves his left hand to the cross guard of the blade, looking every measure of a fearsome judge. "Five years gone, I witnessed you amid the whores of the hag-queen, watching as a true Ulfen of the north was consumed by a cursed blade. That man, Rhagosh, son of Tessien, fought me until I broke the cursed blade...then broke him."

Skallangbiorn glares across the distance. "Remove your helm. I would name you heretic face to face." He pauses a moment, mustering a steady breath to keep his hatred in check. "Let me see the face of the weakling who would commit heresy in Gorum's name, then watch as it tore a good man apart."

Skallangbiorn casts Detect Evil on the armored man.

Oh sh... so much for keeping my identity secret.

To the rider: "Theo? I could ask you the same thing. What are you doing this far west, dressed like a warrior? I was trying to keep a low profile while helping grandmother's enemies behind her lines. But apparently not very successful, if you recognized me immediately, after all those years."

To the rest of the group: "Everyone, meet Theo. My cousin. One of the few relatives I have that isn't utterly evil."

Annie casts detect magic (and Identify if necessary) to make sure no scrying spell is placed on Theo.

Knowledge local or nobility: does his armor give away his rank or position?: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (12) + 3 = 15

Jediah holds steady.

The newcomer's words finally seep past the cleric's boiling anger when Ana responds to him. Skallangbiorn looks to the side where she stands. "You speak so casually with this man. Your cousin is he?"

He looks back to the armored man. Skall comments over his shoulder to Ana. "Your family is fraught with miracles to find so many willing to betray their heritage."

I wonder, the cleric shares a glance with Jediah then with Thorvald. ...did your infatuation with this descendant of the hags cloud my judgment, winter-brother? Did I allow your soft heart to weaken mine?

"Make all the friendly family introductions you wish. This heretic still has Rhagosh to answer for..."

Stealth: 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (12) + 16 = 28

Julian slips away to watch unwatched.

Ana raises her eyebrow and looks back and forth between Skall and Theo, puzzled.

"Rhagosh? Who or what is Rhagosh?"

Skallangbiorn grinds his teeth, jaw muscles working as he attempts to tester his growing frustration. "You'll need to learn to listen beyond the realm of your own thoughts..." He unclinches the fist gripping down on the hilt guard. "As I said a moment ago, five years ago I witnessed him alongside the witches of the north, watching as a true Ulfen of the north was consumed by a cursed blade. That man, Rhagosh, son of Tessien, succumbed to a twisted weapon of Gorum, lost his will to it. I put him down on the battlefield while he and the hag-whores looked on at their handiwork."

He looks back to the armored man. "Do you deny your part in this?"

Ana's surface thoughts while Skall is speaking: Blah blah blah. Why do Ulfen men always speak in such long winded monologues? I wonder if my hair looks good. I hope it doesn't look bad. Theo and I haven't met each other for over a decade. I don't want him to think I am sloppy with my appearance. I hope he didn't instantly recognize me because he remembers me as a person with bad hair. That would be embarrassing. Is the cleric still not done with the monologue? Hey, why is he clenching his teeth at *me* now? ...

"Uh ... yes ... yes, of course! You just said that. No need to repeat yourself. I mean: who was this man? As in, why is it a crime to watch this Rhagosh, controlled by a weapon cursed by Gorum, being killed by you - a cleric of the very same Gorum, god of killing?"

Bluff(To appear attentive): 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (13) + 11 = 24

Gorum is the only outlet for those not evil in this land. The only reason the hags allow his worship is because Gorum seeks battle. The hags use his followers as weapons as do my people. In the end the Lord in Iron triumphs through any and all strife.

"Regardless of ones personal feelings, this man rides under a white flag. A tradition that we Ulfen still honor. Without honor we are nothing. Let Theo speak his piece so that we may hear the message he brings with him."

]"Everyone, meet Theo. My cousin. One of the few relatives I have that isn't utterly evil."

"Greetings, Theo. It seems past ties and more linger about you, but you come under a white flag. So we will listen to your words," Rutilux looks at the man, and then nods to Thorvald, "My friend speaks true. Honor demands we at least hear you out whatever your past crimes and current allegiances. I'm Rutilux Talonn," He will not let Skallingborn give his name alone and take the risks alone.

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Sense Motive: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (13) + 12 = 25

Fury fills the cleric's core, his hand clamps down on the cross guard once again, the blade's tip digging into the ground. "Blasphemer...your ignorance is surpassed only by your willingness to cover it up." His glare sharpens, teeth bared as he continues. "Perhaps I should speak to you as though to a self-involved child...the blade that had been in Rhagosh's hands, had once been a blessed weapon of Gorum. It was bastardized by your hag-kin...and the weapon corrupted the man. Just as the filth of your sires corrupts this one."

There is nothing but red before his eyes, the chants of the thousands fallen in the war with the witches ringing in his ears as they call him to battle. Skallangbiorn turns his eyes to Thorvald. "In your time alone, do you not speak of the very faith that sustains our subjugated brethren? Does this impudent child know nothing of Him but to call Gorum the god of killing? Even Julian knows better, and he lacks any faith in the gods!"

Skallangbiorn turns back to Ana his tone turning black and even and strangely calm, looking through her as he only sees her adjusting her hair in the face of the enemy. "But you're not without a god are you, princess."

Back to the others and the newcomer. "He is under the banner of parlay and peace. I am a son of this land and will honor it. I'll hear the heretic's story and message. But his blood is mine, Rhogosh's soul cries out for it." He focuses on the armored man, the one called Theo. "Speak your words, in the knowledge that honorable men will do you no harm. Speak your message, and if you have any honor, answer the charges lay before you."

”Even" Julian? This religious maniac is useful at times ...but he remains a bloodthirsty devotee of ...no, not the god of killing. Worse. The god of war.. Julian watches the proceedings while slowly drawing an arrow.

S&+#! The cleric has gone full retard! He's making us all look like a bunch of f%$&-sticks. I wish he could contain himself a bit better. Wonder if its the new head gear he got while we were apart? Jeez! Let the guy speak. How can he answer a damn thing when you are frothing at the damn mouth and s+@%?! Maybe he is like Ana . . .

Oy Vey, we might have to sit on Skall for a while. I've been a right prat to Ana but this is ridiculous!

"This man is free to go after he speaks. Such is the law of custom. If he chooses to accept your challenge, he will have to ride out and return here or to neutral ground so that It cannot be said a messenger under a white flag was attacked or slain in this camp."

"Let the man speak."

It wasn't five years ago. It was a few months ago... But I'll roll with your version
He has one evil aura over the blade he has bound shut.
Ana can see spells protecting him from detection, mind reading and scrying as well as a defensive spell

Looking directly at Skallangbiorn the man removes the bronze mask revealing a boyish face marred by a few thin scars and the dull nearly lifeless eyes. "Yes, I was there when your man picked up that accursed blade, just like the one I must bear," as he gestures slightly towards his blade without reaching towards it, "Yet you know almost nothing about what truly occurred. If you wish to know the full and disgusting truth of that day and of those blades I will tell you after my current business is done." he then turns away from Skallangbiorn towards the others, "As you must undoubtedly be aware much of Irrissen is in an uproar. Ulfen armies forcing their way across the border, uprisings popping up everywhere, the Jagwidja nobles fighting amongst themselves trying to claw their way up the pecking order or claim each other's resources and territories. The whole country is in chaos so the Queen is forced to divide her armies up against dozens of threats spread all across these lands which leaves her desperate, for soldiers or power. I am sick of all this fighting and all the bloodshed, and I'm sick of the Jagwidja that's why I'm here to make an offer to this Kodiak that you all follow. I want to trade information that could end this war and in exchange I want my freedom."

Rutilux tries to gauge the man's expression, tone, and more, sifting for the truth of it

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (13) + 10 = 23 +3 on top of that to overcome bluffs

Uprisings, plural? Could it be the witches grip crumbles even on its people deeper within?

"You understand why we are slow to trust a claim that seems almost too promising? You say you wish peace, so do most of us, but some forms of peace are worse than war, a peace that leads to slavery of a nation, for example. Can you provide evidence to further prove this trade is in the interest of these lands and my liege? I try not to doubt the words of a man, but dark magics" He glances at the bound sword the man himself has identified, "Are carried with you. Even if you were the soul of honor, are you truly free of the Ice Queen's influence as you speak to us?"

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (11) + 9 = 20

For once, Anastasiya is speechless at the cleric's rebuke. She merely glares at him, until her cousin begins to speak.

"Ana, you say this is a good man? I believe we owe it to him to hear him out and help him gain freedom from the witches that you escaped yourself."

Zethyris looks to Skallangbiorn as he continues. "He is related to the Jadwiga royalty, so I doubt he has had much control over his path. He has now found his way to us, and wishes to be free. He even offers vital information in exchange for the aid he requires. Can we agree to listen to his story without judgement? Nothing about the past can be changed - only the future. Let's help him with one of the first free choices he may have ever had the chance to make."

"I don't know if he is a good man by your standards. But I can vouch for him that he is not as cruel or wicked as the rest of our family. In that regard, he was even more a disappointment to our family than I was. I remember he used to rescue animals and help peasants. I can't account for who he has become since then - but if I deserved the chance I got, then he deserves it as well."

In Skall's direction she adds, in a spiteful voice: "... even if that argument means nothing to a man who worships only warfare, with hurtful weapons and hurtful words."

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Sense Motive: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (10) + 12 = 22 ... on Theo

Skallangbiorn closes his eyes, right hand coming up to rub the corners. His anger diminishes, replaced by shock. By the battle never-ending, she is a child...

He responds to Zethyris, "Any weapon should be tested, honed and then tested again. A chance to see its purpose free of tarnish and impurity. If that is the fate of this man, then glory to his resolve."

To Rutilux, "He bears not the stench of evil, but his steel is indeed cursed. If we are to allow audience, banner of truce or no, we cannot allow him near our liege so armed. Though I apparently know nothing of what occurred (correcting here) 5 months ago, the cursed blade should be dealt with before any meeting."

To Theo, "Lord Talonn asks a just question. What is your proof? And will you relinquish the blade for purification?"

"Yes, disappointment is one word they used to call me as a boy. If this cursed blade could be dealt with so easily I would have been rid of it already. Unfortunately the curse, or more specifically the mad priest that resides within the blade, prevents me from being more than a few feet away... Lest unfortunate circumstances befall me. And I have yet to find a priest or arcane spell strong enough to rid me of this curse. As for proof, I have no physical evidence but will submit myself to whatever methods your leader deems necessary to verify my claim."

No one senses deception on him; but you also don't sense much else in the way of any emotions aside from surprise at Ana's appearance.

To Rutilux, "He bears not the stench of evil, but his steel is indeed cursed. If we are to allow audience, banner of truce or no, we cannot allow him near our liege so armed. Though I apparently know nothing of what occurred (correcting here) 5 months ago, the cursed blade should be dealt with before any meeting."

"Yes, disappointment is one word they used to call me as a boy. If this cursed blade could be dealt with so easily I would have been rid of it already. Unfortunately the curse, or more specifically the mad priest that resides within the blade, prevents me from being more than a few feet away... Lest unfortunate circumstances befall me. And I have yet to find a priest or arcane spell strong enough to rid me of this curse. As for proof, I have no physical evidence but will submit myself to whatever methods your leader deems necessary to verify my claim."

"I've seen men turned into butchers by cursed magics, as the Skallingborn points out, you can see why we are not keen minded on letting you near our liege when you could be a walking trap due to the blade you carry. Will you be willing to talk to our liege through intermediaries such as ourselves on a regular basis?"

"We must sunder the blade."

Crafting: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (18) + 12 = 30

"I would speak with him in person, even if that means a hundred or more paces away at sword point. I'll not divulge these secrets to anyone else." he turns towards Thorvald slightly shifting his body between the ulfen and the blade, hints of panic in his eyes, "No! so long as this curse remains no damage shall befall this blade. Destroy the blade now and you may very well destroy my soul which I will not allow!" he forcibly stops himself and breathes deeply before continuing, "I care not whether you destroy this blade or bury it pommel deep in the rump of a troll after I've been freed. But for now it must remain whole and unharmed." he turns back to Rutilux, "Arrange for your lord to meet with me. I will wait out on that hill over there for his answer in clear sight of your sentries."

Unless someone protests or steps in to stop him, he turns his mount away and rides about half a mile to a small hill and stops to rest. Staking the ground and securing his horse before sitting down to wait.

"Well, I suppose when Savol comes back we'll have a surprise for him. Should we head out and follow his trail now? Someone should tell Theo there might be a bit of a wait."

"Perhaps One-Eye can find a suitable guard for him until we return. His intentions seem good, but that cursed sword is a bit of a wild card."

"Do you know the way you can be freed?"

We should indeed find Savol as soon as we can.

"What exactly does the sword's curse do to you, as long as you are still bearing it? It seems to be content being peacebound right now."

If I must tell you of my past to gain an audience with your lord so be it. After Anastasiya's flight from the capital and the 'unexplained' deaths of several promising young Jagwidga the Queen stepped in a levelled several unbendable laws upon all Jagwidga. All Jagwidga must be accompanied by one or more of the Queens guardians, or to be more accurate her army of fanatically loyal assassins, to 'protect' them and ensure none betray her. Second, no Jagwidga may leave the territories without the Queens written permission. There's a powerful spell laid upon the lands and its defences that with attack any who attempt to leave. The third rule isn't really a rule so much as a way of removing 'lesser' family. Any Jagwidga that cannot prove their worthiness to the Queen are used as an example to the rest. To avoid death i formed, financed and led a company of swordsman. About six months ago my mother and sister summoned me and my men. Pretending concern for my position they offered us a cache of blades they had unearthed in a forgotten temple fortress of Gorum. At first these blades appeared no more than enchanted or blessed sword but the more my men used them in battle and the more blood they drew the less they became until they had devolved into raving berserkers that had to be chained up to avoid injuring others. I tried to throw the blade away but couldn't. No matter how much I resolved to get rid of it I couldn't. A powerful compulsion refused to allow me. When I went to my family they tried taking one from one of my men and within moments he was screaming in agony before he died. That blade was the one your friend was 'convinced' to pick up so my sisters could test out methods of controlling the blades. Their test worked for them. They now had control of bloodthirsty warriors. I returned to the temple to see if I could find something their to free my men and I from this curse which was even starting to control me. Inside I found some notes from a priest who had been experimenting with an enchantment that would bind the souls of warrior priests into their weapons when they died. The experiments worked and the warrior priest were able to live on inside the blade and control whoever wielded the blades. after some time the souls trapped inside the blades went mad and news reached other temples of Gorum who marched on the temple to destroy the heretical weapons and their creator. Wether through my bloodline or through sheer will I was able to hold my blades control off until the priest awoke. The blade I bear is the priest who started that experiment and we've come to an agreement. He doesn't try to exert control anymore and I don't destroy us. When I learned the full truth I slew my overseer and fled in search of the Ulfen warlord brave enough to invade Irrissen and now I stand before you all."

Damn, that's a good one. . . And epic too. . . I want to believe him. I want to believe that there are others like him in these lands. It makes the task of liberating our lands not seem so impossible.

A short while after Theo finishes his story and is answering questions on details on specific events, everyone hears one of the lookouts cry out, "Men coming from the north. Can't tell how many but at least two dozen, maybe twice that. Can't tell who yet."
The camp is abuzz as the remaining troops rush to defenses in case it's the enemy but the banner of the Kodiak is seen shortly.

Savol returns to camp with just over fifty men, several wounded and a few seriously, but all of his warriors wear wide grins or proud faces as they help the wounded in. Savol, standing nearly a head taller than everyone else spots up your group and removes himself, moving quickly towards you. "Good! You got my message and I see that yet again you have all managed to dance around the dragon's teeth and returned unscathed..." he then spots Theo standing amongst you and his gaze sours. "Who is that man?"

Jediah makes sure to position himself between Theo and Savol. Can't take any chances.

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Skallangbiorn places a fist to his heart out respect to Savol. To lead a smaller force on a direct attack more frequently ends on disaster. But tactics and gumption have one the day for their liege.

"This man is Ana's cousin, and to hear him tell it, he too is cut from the same cloth." He looks to Rutilux, Thorvald and Zethyris then towards Jediah who stands between Theo and Savol. "He bears promising news for the war, but he also possesses a cursed weapon." His teeth grind when he looks back at Theo. That weapon's very existence is heresy. The soul bound within it will not find refuge for long...I swear it, Great Gorum.

Then he pats the satchel on his hip (crown is in there). "Our mission was successful as well. We claimed it."

-------------

As the scene settles, Skallangbiorn calls to the wounded and directs them to a tight collection of tents. There he'll tend to their wounds and gather the worst cases. The latter group he will give up his channels for the day to see them fit for battle once more. Rolls here...

Channel Energy: 3d6 ⇒ (4, 5, 3) = 12
Channel Energy: 3d6 ⇒ (6, 3, 5) = 14
Channel Energy: 3d6 ⇒ (4, 1, 5) = 10
Channel Energy: 3d6 ⇒ (2, 1, 5) = 8
Channel Energy: 3d6 ⇒ (4, 6, 1) = 11
Channel Energy: 3d6 ⇒ (6, 3, 3) = 12

Rutilux finds the tale fascinating, and he, like Thorvald, wants to believe the man "Your tale is... moving. Our Lord IS bold, and in the right, though I understand you will wish to meet him yourself...."

Another Sense motive just in case 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (15) + 10 = 25 +3 to overcome bluff

Savol returns to camp with just over fifty men, several wounded and a few seriously, but all of his warriors wear wide grins or proud faces as they help the wounded in. Savol, standing nearly a head taller than everyone else spots up your group and removes himself, moving quickly towards you. "Good! You got my message and I see that yet again you have all managed to dance around the dragon's teeth and returned unscathed..." he then spots Theo standing amongst you and his gaze sours. "Who is that man?"

Rutilux joins Jediah in making a make shift between barrier, "Theo , kin to Anya. And, if his words be true, a willing defector to your cause, my lord. He offers insights and aid, but.. it is true, his blade is cursed, and I suggest you never be alone with Theo until that curse is removed."