The infamous Introduction:
Just recently I have had a…. book, of sorts… pass through my hands. To say it was a pleasure to read would be a vast over-statement. In truth it was with the very first words that I thought perhaps I had come under some evil spell and were thusly due to have my very eyes melt from their sockets. What troubles my slumber most with vicious nightmares, is not the knowledge gleaned from this ragged parcel, but the knowledge that there are more to come, and I must endure them. I humbly place my words here as a warning to readers, and mostly to the parents of young readers.
The author of these works, and seeming the main character in the stories, lacks any sense of timing, prose, propriety or even skill. The only thing comparable in scope to the Author’s lack of ability, is his exceptionally high opinion of himself. In years past the Gods themselves would merely smite an individual of such hubris, without any sensible citizen having to suffer.
However, if there is so much as a grain of truth in the author’s tales, then it must be assumed that he does generally espouse such traits as that define the most honorable of Noble-Knights: Generosity, Gallantry, Honor and Compassion. Though the reader must learn to sift such qualities from the mass of pure useless dross and drivel that fills these pages, and work one’s self around the ever-expanding ego of the one that dubs himself “The Great”.
My condolences for your eyes and mind,
-Nameless
OOC background: Just a few quick out of character notes about the “author” of these posts. “The Great” is one of the characters playing in the ‘good’ game run by Cap’n Jose Monkamuck. He’s a half-elf and more or less like a paladin. He belongs to an order of “Knights” devoted to defeating evil and oppression where-ever it shows itself. He also works as part of the elite guard-force/ambassadors for a very wealthy merchant house. Now with all that in mind there are two other considerations to take into mind when reading his views on his adventures. 1) The Great seeks the path to immortality by becoming an author of children’s illuminated texts, Fairy-tales. All of these tales being actually based off his adventures, thereby making himself the “Knight in shining armor”. 2) The Great does not have a very firm grip on reality, not that he’s insane, just every facet of life surrounding him is exaggerated, or at least to his perceptions. So far I’ve had a wonderful time playing this comically-inclined character. Enjoy his stories.
“The Gala and the Thousand-legged Dragon”
As with all great tales this one begins with, Music. Our Hero was passing through the back-water land of some Peasant-Noble of little renown on business of his Lady, when an invitation came into his hands. For all the poverty of this small land and its people, they had spared no expense in sending our oft-beleaguered Hero this note.
“Come Ye, Oh Greatest of Knights, to our Humble Faire. So that you may preside over the festivities honoring our homely daughter, dare we call her “Princess”. We tremble with anticipation at your arrival so that you may serve as Proxy to the Gods themselves and bless our meager repast.”
Oh yes, those very words were etched deep and crudely upon a tablet of the finest wood and coarsely filled in with molten pewter then brushed ‘til it gleamed like Mithril. Our good and brave Hero could not help but feel pity for their lack of civilization and prosperity, but the begging tones of their obviously needy words drove him to accept, most humbly.
Indeed there would be a party. But what would our intrepid Hero wear? Considering the back-water and shabby nature of the Land armor would be fitting, battle regalia, no? So thus did the Hero present himself in armor of silver and brandishing his mighty sword. Likely the peasants have never seen such a sight before. A query would cross the mind of our Valiant Hero. Would they have Music? He would bring his Minstrels to add flavor, and likely a soul, to this gathering of commoners. Indeed it would be night to remember… for the masses.
It would take hours to describe in detail the presents and praises heaped upon our most humble Hero during the course of events at this gathering. Though there was therein a happenstance that will help define the character of this Noble Warrior we speak of now. Pardon my meager ramblings as I side-track to this minor event.
There was indeed music at this Gala, and well-dressed Lords and Ladies (Though of course they were all stunned by the countenance of our Hero, I should not have to restate), and thus did the people dance and revel. I bring your attention now to a lovely young maiden, alone and shy lurking upon the edges of the dance floor. It was our Hero’s own intention to grace the Maiden with a dance, but this was not to be. For a true Nobleman is also observant and benevolent. He saw another young person, then, shy and alone, with eyes for the outcast maiden. As a matter of course our tales Hero approached the young waif and explained how to attract the eyes of the maiden he desired.
“Watch and I shall show you, my boy” He spoke and clapped the boy upon the shoulder.
It should be assumed, of course, that all great heroes, by inner virtue, grace of the gods or exceptional skill, are graced with abilities far beyond those of the common man, whom looks up to these epic personas. So it should come as no surprise when one decides to use such a gift in a seemingly paltry manner. But indeed it was a great sight to behold as the Dashing and Benevolent Hero stepped to the center of the room and levitated himself over the heads of the revelers for the span of an entire dance.
The young boy watched with a slack jaw, as did everyone else, and when our Hero deigned to lower his feet to the ground once more he had his choice of any of the fine ladies present. He selected for himself a virtuous and lively woman, asking only that the shy Maiden speak to his squire. Of course he meant the shy boy, and not his honest Squire.
I digress again to by pass the more droll and unentertaining happenings of the night. The commonness of the Gala and the routine continuings of the event are not much more remarkable than any other. Allow me to take our tale forward in time to the afternoon of the day following the Gala, for that is where our Hero was approached again for his presence.
First to approach was an elven wizard of black skin and delusions of Grandeur, he thought very mightily of his hedge-magic, but of course that he would need a real man armed with wits, strength and steel to protect his feeble body. And who better than a powerful, Daring and Humble Knight? So thus did the wizard beseech our Hero, complaining that some beast of his summoning escaped his control. Assuming the beast to be nothing more than an Imp the Hero took pity on the man, but had to refuse as his Lady required another task of him.
Failing himself the deceitful and fearful wizard sent his compatriot to appeal to the Knight. Perhaps thinking that a woman could persuade the Hero into such an insignificant quest the Wizard would send a most lovely creature to Him. Indeed this lady was a most beautiful creature with an innate Grace and Charm that can only come as a blessing of the gods. Her voice was like honey upon the ear and the mere sight of her could cure a man of any ills. The Nymph beseeched our Hero and pleaded with him to take mercy upon their party, and to forgive the Wizard of his duplicitous actions. She explained that the deaths of their former companions was in no way their fault. Again he had to regrettably decline.
Verily on the heels of the Nymph came the last of a trio of propositioners, a fellow Knight. Though this knight was a Paladin-Princess, the very Princess in whose honor was thrown the Gala of the night before. Of course she remembered our Hero (who couldn’t?) and recalled being impressed by his presence, candor and humility. She came to him without knowledge of the Wizard’s and Nymph’s request and asked him as a fellow of Arms if he might accompany her to Battle.
It is a little known fact that between Knights, no askance of aide in honorable battle may be refused. And this Paladin-Princess brought with her servants, as did our Hero, as befits a truly great Noble. However the Paladin-Princess’ manservant had a dark and shifty quality about him.
“He will bear watching” Our Hero would consider to himself.
Not even our intrepid Hero can make the mundane tasks of buying supplies and setting off on adventure very entertaining, though he does try. So once more I must skip past a day’s time to the next exciting event in our Hero’s never-dull life.
It was not more than a single day outside of the Paladin-Princess’ town that the motley band of adventures happened across a beast of gigantic proportions. Fifty sheep long and two men tall the scaled monster was incredibly fast, and hungry. Panic ran rampant among the lesser of our Hero’s band, unbecoming curses and shouts of “DRAGON!!” filled the air with dissonance. Even the Minstrels could not compete with such a terrifying racket, caused mostly by the Wizard. The beast charged the singled-out and helpless Nymph, its speed would cause jealousy among lightning.
“FEAR NOT!” Our Hero shouted with resolve at the tops of his lungs, to be heard over the racket of cries and battle.
He shouted even as he charged the charging monster. Never was Fear a trait of His moral character. The beast bit at the Nymph and quickly injected her with an insidious poison. She was down! Just as the beast turned its attention to a new meal, our Hero, its great mandible shattered in a spray of gore and acid upon the Knight’s shield. So mighty was His cause and charge that he knocked the beast backwards 20 feet! Regardless of it’s innumerable legs and unbelievable size. With that shattering contact of shield to face, it took only one swipe of the Hero’s mighty sword to cause the beast to turn and run with all its speed, away from battle.
Filled with confidence that the creature would not return the Hero turned his back and rushed to aide the fallen Nymph. He would not besmirch His Honor by falling to the crude art-form of hurling insults at a defeated enemy, as did all his companions.
It was not with magic or banal bandages that our Hero saw to the wounds of the Nymph, but with a kiss did he restore to her the flame of life. Indeed she yearned for another and even tried to press him into a second, but his Heart is held only by Duty. Seeing that all was in order he’d turn to his returning troops and remark upon their cowardly acts in a most disapproving manor, sparing no feelings. They would need to learn from this battle. It was small wonder to our Hero why pervious companions had fallen. His last remark to the gathered throng is truly the only one suitable for print herein.
“A Dragon? Come now, honestly, that creature was no more than a hungry and playful, if gigantic and confused Caterpillar. You must learn to control your fear, or forever it will control you.”
-Bryn Farshot, The Great
“My name, you ask? Why my name is, The Great.”
“The Great, what you ask? Lord will suffice.”
“No no no, silly peasant. Not ‘The Great Lord’, that is much too ostentatious. It is a title, thereby you may call me, ‘Lord The Great’”
Another OOC note: The above is my intended medium for posting of my character's views on the Adventures played out in Cap'n Jose Monkamuck's "Good" campaign. I hope you all enjoy the story, and I would like to say that if anyone is interested I could post a second time.. out of character.. to explain what really happened. You may find a good bit of hilarity in seperating fact from His fantasy. I know the other players in my group and our GM find it quite humorous.
You humble me good sir. "Paladin Princess". Very nice. I don't believe you understand that that title is only fitting upon the view of my Lord and Lady. I have no royal blood in my that I am aware of. My real parents left me when I was very young, and my Lord and Lady raised me since I was an infant. I trained with the gentlemen you met by the name of Baron Solimar. He tought me everything I know. I look forward to fighting by your side in our adventures to come. My Lord and Ladies land means the world to me, for it is my home and safe place, so when the time comes, I will fight for what is mine. I'm sure you would do the same. Fare thee well Sir The Great.
Hmph...Shifty or not, this elf is nobody's manservant. ;)
Hmph...Shifty or not, this elf is nobody's manservant. ;)
You tell him my Lord. Give him WHAT FOR!
Hmph...Shifty or not, this elf is nobody's manservant. ;)You tell him my Lord. Give him WHAT FOR!
That generally involves "Comanche" music, a log and a very tasty fan belt to squeal around...
OOC Note: I was hoping to have my next installment posted by saturday. As it is thursday night.. and I have two pages on Word filled up, and I'm barely past the first battle... Saturday is not looking too promising. I apologize to any of my fans. Oh.. and since I'm here, posting OOC. I implore you to go back and re-read the posts thus far, pay attention to the words that begin with a capital letter. For the most part those were intentional and not typo's. See if you can discern the hidden meaning. Just a little game I have going.
Merry Christmas to The Great! I miss the great rantings of The Great! Keep it up good lord. I will see you once we are on the road again:)
Merry Christmas to The Great! I miss the great rantings of The Great! Keep it up good lord. I will see you once we are on the road again:)
Burble
My Lord,
Much has changed. I feel you must know what happened in your absense. I hope this doesn't change anything between us, for now I need your help more then ever. If there is anything I have done to you in the past that was not to your liking, please forgive me. I wish for you to join me now more then ever before. Thank you for being a noble friend and I look forward to our future adventures together. Please feel free to read my journal entry to get a glimpse of what happened in your absense.
http://paizo.com/paizo/messageboards/community/gaming/campaignJournals/seri neIsQueen
Our "Great" hero has the perspective of the noble storyteller!
OOC: Again I must apologize for my lengthy absence and lack of material. Though the next installment is coming forth-with chapter titled in this thread "The Wizard's Imp"
I am very anxious for the next installment my Lord:)
The Wizard’s Imp
It was a cold and misty morn, several days out from the Paladin-Princess’ hometown, our adventurous Hero stood stoic watch over his woefully foolish companions. This seems out of sorts, no? For why would such a Gallant Knight have to serve in such a common role as watch? This query brings us to why He considered His party so woefully foolish. T’was the night before that they happened to discover, open and imbibe large quantities of rare and potent Fey Wine. Thus in the morning were they all sleeping the slumber of the dead.
This said same morn would come as a portent to the wise and insightful, telling of the next few days of unexpected and not all-together beneficial additions to the Hero’s Crusading party. T’was a clamor to wake the dead and alert foul beasts that the first approached from the damp and bone-chilling mists, a towering collection of fine armor approached with shield and weapon tucked. Another Noble one might assume, and thus a welcome addition to the party. Alas, our Hero could tell at once that this creature was nothing more than a barely tamed Savage who claimed Nobility by name, and likely stole his armor from a corpse.
Once pointed out that the Savage carried an AXE and walked in full-plate, rather than riding upon a warhorse, as his claim of Rank would denote, it was obvious to all that our Hero’s assessment must be accurate. To detail the verbal combat that ensued would likely bore our audience to death or tears… likely both, it will not be recounted. However, there is an important observation to be made from the occurrence of that battle. Yes, indeed the Savage lacked any amount of believable intelligence, rationale, Honor or Sense, but was possessed of (even our Hero had to admit) passable Stamina. But as with senses, so is true with Virtues, where the body lacks in one it must be made up for by the others.
Before the verbal sparring, which was leading to the utter humiliation of the Savage, even drew to its foregone conclusion, there came from behind our Beloved Hero the growl of approaching monsters. Fortune would see to it that the Crusader’s tiny Illusionist saw fit to work magics and wake the Paladin-Princess from her stupor, just in time so that she could rise, ready to battle and aide in the defeat of one of the monsters.
Two ghastly Lions emerged from the brush, thinking our Daring Crusaders no more than fellow predators infringing on their territory. Left to their own devices the lumbering Savage and Prankster would have likely fallen to the branchy be-thorn’ed Lion, but aiding those two were the Steel of the Paladin-Princess and the Skill of the Archer (aforementioned as “manservant”). This of course would leave only the Minstrels and our Repudiated Hero.
As is most tactically sound the trio of Minstrels sought out higher ground for a better vantage point from which to hurl their music to rouse the Crusaders and damn the vegetation Lions. Which, of course, if your mind is as fast as your mouths… you will note that remained one Lionic Beast and one Hero, while four commoners (three plus one Paladin-Princess that refuses to acknowledge her Nobility, for those of you not quick at arithmetic) surrounded its mate. Yes, it shocks me to this day to realize that any crew could so abandon their Leader to Fate’s cruel jaws, though it should not have to be stated that Single Combat is the most Honorable sort, and indeed the realm of our Hero.
The beast growled deep in its belly and let loose a thunderous roar before it charged the lone Knight, thinking to impale him on its spike-ridden hide for a quick meal. Our Brave Knight stood his ground and laughed as the beast leapt, tearing at him with fang, claw and spike. But it was no cry of anguish that tore from our Hero’s throat as he was indeed impaled. Oh no.
“YOU FOOL! Now you cannot run away!” He shouted for the gods to hear and lay a curse upon the head of the stupid beast.
Indeed in the seconds to follow our Dashing Hero laughed and chopped into the beast with his Mighty, Noble, and un-axe-like SWORD (A true gentleman’s weapon). Each parry was a devastating blow; each strike was accompanied by a thunderous retort, as if the Gods themselves unleashed Hell to our Hero’s whim in visitation upon the foul beast. The Lion’s impaling embrace was broken in those moments while sword sheared into flesh, much to the beasts Joy, allowing it the Freedom it required most. The Freedom to tuck its tail and sprint away in defeat. Just a single arrow from the Archer could have ended the beast’s life, but our Fair-minded Hero called him short of flying.
“Cowardice in defeat is punishment enough,” Our Hero had to remind his blood-thirsty troupe.
It is a well-known fact that sound travels faster and further downhill than up, so though the Crusader’s were in earshot of the Minstrel’s music, the cheery band was beyond the call of voice. Thus did our Hero harken off to fetch the trio whilst the Paladin-Princess took her turn to duel words with the dim-witted Savage, and the Archer and Gnome to waken the remainder of the party.
It would become known shortly that the Savage was actually known to the Paladin-Princess. It seems that he was some sort of bastard half-child to some meager peasant Lord calling himself “Baron” over one of the Paladin-Princess’ Father’s land-holdings. Such a distinguished lack of taste only added to the sufferage that our Hero must bear upon his Saintly journey with utmost Stoicism.
OOC: It seems the tale entitled "The Wizard's Imp" is going to have to have two installments. Frankly it's been so long my memory of the event is faded, though perhaps one day soon "The Wizard's Imp II" will be posted.
A new day dawns, hopefully I will not be so lax in my posting of the recountings of today's tale.
Starting a Rebellion is Hard…
(When your best friends are your worst Enemies)
The day started as a glorious one indeed, with the Sun shining bright, the skies clear of clouds and the pyre of fallen enemies burning nearby. Oh indeed our Hero, was well pleased for all was going smoothly. Construction of the foundations of a will-be great Fortress were well underway, the men and women under His command were fighting well together, and the other half of His Heart was near at hand. Oh how sweet was this day, but as with all things sweet, they soon rot in the light of day.
A rider approached in great haste with an important missive (Of course that was the courier’s opinion and not that of our Happy Hero). A show of great Comraderie was shown the courier and his exhausted mount, brought in for a meal and drink, as well as a night of safety. His letter, he swore was for the eyes of our Hero only, and pressed into the wax seal was the sigil of none other than the Paladin-Princess.
“Again she must take you away from me, when we’ve just found each other”, a remark by our Hero’s lady, no doubt based in jealousy.
“If she is lost... again… I must help her find the way. That is the Path”, replied the Hero. His Lady knew the truth in her heart, but such is love. “Of course, the wedding! At once we shall depart!”
So sure was our Hero of the situation back in the Shield Lands that the missive was never read. He and his Lady set about at once preparing for the journey, and within hours were back on the road, leaving in charge our Hero’s faithful and competent second. The trip back to the City where resided the Parents of the Paladin-Princess, was a quick and uneventful one. The true horror began when our Hero and his Lady arrived.
For, I speak the truth now it was not a wedding to which they were summoned, but instead to the planning of a rebellion. It was laid out now as fact that the Paladin-Princess was indeed just that, but not due to status of adoptive parents. It was explained in no great detail that the Paladin-Princess was in fact heir to a Kingdom now ruled by a Tyrant. Her Parents murdered in bloody usurpation. It was now laid before her as Quest to begin a rebellion in her own kingdom, and if she could not those that claimed to Love her would not support her with Military Might.
“How to win a War without an Army?” A question that no doubt kept the Paladin-Princess and her Lover the Archer awake many-a-nights. Until, of course, they came to the only plausible answer. Call in The Great.
Thus now was the merry traveling Troupe re-acquainted with one another and all eyes turned to our Dashing Hero for guidance and Leadership. Oh this task would be hard indeed to complete, for not was rebellion difficult enough, but in fact was the credit to be lain upon the Paladin-Princess. The same woman that now looked to our Galant Hero to win a war for her. Oh the tribulations that plague The Great.
Within days the party was traveling in foreign and hostile lands, those controlled by the armies of the very despot the band was sent to worry. Just as the border was to be crossed the party was called up short by a voice that shook the trees and rattled the teeth.
“Halt and proclaim yourself! Come forth to display travel papers! Drop your arms and carry your weapons in the open! Be silent and proclaim your allegiance to the Lord of the Land!” shouted a rather dim-witted giant from behind cover of a barricade.
Clearly the troupe could not do so many conflicting tasks at the same time, but ‘lo how they tried. All of them, save, of course our Hero. He sat astride his powerful warhorse and took stock of the situation. A single unintelligent Giant, a horde of orcs with defended and prepared grounds as well as all the malice those races could produce. While our Hero had on his side a handful of almost useful talent, and the Minstrels.
True the giant’s voice could freeze the lifeblood of an artic troll, and pale a vampire a shade closer to death. It rattled the bones and shook the nerves. All around our Hero did chaos erupt, shouts of “CHARGE!” conflicted with shrieks of “RUNAWAY”! Some of the companions fretted and shivered, others vanished from sight. In an instant the party was ready for a war they could not hope to win. Stoic and Calm sat our Hero amidst it all, Patient and contemplative. O’er the clamor of fear He had to shout to make his voice heard.
“What is your name, Good Sir?” Fearlessly He advanced a step, surrendering neither weapon nor composure.
Confusion ran rampant among the enemy, orc looked to orc, Giant looked to orc, orc looked back to giant. And each had the same blustered expression that can be summarized in only one classic word.
“Huh?” Came the confused reply from the slow and massive giant.
“Greetings, Good Sir. I am, The Great, world-renowned author, traveler and Bard. I approach the lands of your great and worthy Lord in search of inspiration. It seems I have to approach no closer than his most remote borders to find what I seek. For I see before me a display of cunning and military genius that could fill a library of tomes were my pen allowed to scribe them. A chance, perhaps, that you and I should speak, while you escort me about the lands you so rightly and definitively protect?”
A calm and clear voice, a quick tongue and even faster mind would prevail our Dashing Hero knew. For with such beasts there is a well established procedure to follow when out-numbered so vastly. Flattery before Bribery, Bribery before Battle.
“Huh?” Oh our Hero was not mistaken about these creatures. It’s face screwed up in a horrible mask of contemplation. “Erm.. Yeah. That sounds like a great idea.”
The creature agreed, for of course it assumed our Hero spoke the truth and it did afterall realize it’s own worth. Now not only did the Companion’s have a guide through the enemy controlled territory, but as well they had protection and free meals. A few days with this rag-tag band and our Brilliant Hero knew that he could change their minds and cause. Rebellion beginning from within the enemies own ranks. Perhaps this would not be such a hard Quest afterall.
Our Hero turned in his saddle to calm his companions and show them all that it was well-handled, hoping that perhaps one of them saw the same opportunity that he had. Of course he could not be that fortunate, oh no. The Gods themselves would not allow so easy a victory, not even for our Beloved Hero. However it was not the monster that made this engagement so difficult, It was the bolt of Lightning that our Hero received, straight to the face, from none other than his own companion, the Wizard.
This humble story-teller will now, for the sake of fairness, digress for a moment from the tale. Just to make it clear that our Hero was not the only one to suffer from this badly fired spell. Our Hero, the Paladin-Princess and the mounts of both Knights took equal shares of pain from this errant blast. Of course our Hero’s mount survived, not so fortunate was that belonging to the Paladin-Princess. In shame was she pinned beneath the weight of her fallen steed.
Fear, confusion, disloyalty and clouded mind were all culprits to the Wizard’s ill-advised casting. Did our Hero hold it against him? Act out of anger or just vengeance and Smite the foolish, untrustworthy dark-elf? No, of course not. Wounded in body and Pride our Gallant Hero charged the mass of monsters, alone and unafraid.
A few well-placed shots by the deft Archer were the only preliminary before our Hero’s steel began cleaving life from the shocked beasts. Of course though he had to apologize for the misunderstanding, Ethics demanded it of him, even as he felled the Giant. It is dishonorable to engage with an enemy under false pretenses. Something the Wizard obviously did not understand.
With our Hero in the fore and the Archer raining death from above, the battle was soon over with death now the only companions for the beasts. Our Hero’s lament? Only that his faithful Stallion had to suffer such a horrific injury, a point he would make clear to the Wizard that very night. Calmly and politely.
It would become His task now, to properly train his companions in Conduct and Tactics, when dealing with an enemy on a field of Honor. Drive home the concept of Fairness in battle. As well as make the Wizard understand his place in battle, off to the side… far off to the side.
To the one who recieves this missive, it is with sad regret I report our quiet attempt that was well planned to inflitrate the enemy duckdom has met with bombastic failure rife with confused lightnings and slow words. I fear our attempt to carefully learn more about our enemy before we struck with care to inspire confidence in would be allies in our ability to plan and execute the enemies of God has been most completely and carelessly ruined by those who would best serve the paladin princess as murderers on the run without without safe haven and before they fly ignobably in fear and defeat.
I expect the party of "heros" will be tracked down and pursued with extreme prejudice for slaughtering a scheduled military patrol when they do not return to large and well guarded camp. What will the paladin princess do if the ignoble enemy resorts to retribution and ramdom murder on the enslaved local population becuase of her parties misdeeds to include the slaughter of the enemies heroic battlefeild wounded?
Will she give herself up as a truly noble paladin to the foul creatures for their sport to save her people from mass retailation by the occupying forces? Will the retatiation against the oppressed population combined with the enemie's 30 pieces of silver given as reward for betrayal cause the death of the party before the population decides to trust us since we now have no safe place to turn for hiding and planning the rebellion.
P.S. Captian, SS Nostromo distress signal says something about 40km safe distance.... Does anyone know what that <BRIGHT FLASH>
My Lord,
Will you relay the incendents of our last adventure or must I have the torture, I mean pleasure...?:)
Starting a Rebellion is Hard…
(When your best friends are your worst enemies)
Part II: A journal Entry
It is only the second day of our sojourn into the lands of Furyondy, held now by the Empire of Iuz and under the control of a malicious despot named Serath. It has come to our knowledge that this kingdom is by birthright the soverign of Lady Serine. Thus far our quest has met with nearly catastrophic blunders and unsound decisions, if this continues the journey will be a harrowing one and will likely lead to the death of many, if not all, of my companions. In truth I have nearly lost my own life already. The following is a detailing of my parties incursion thus far.
Day 1: The most awful battle tactics
No sooner do we cross the border from the Shield Lands than are we halted by a well-organized, military-trained and prepared force. From first appearances this group we approached had set in and was acting under explicit orders to detain any travelers. Without threat of violence we were asked to display documentation of citizenship and travel vouchers. Perhaps it is because those blocking our way were Orcs and a Hill Giant that my companions instantly prickled and prepared for an assault. Out-numbered, against a dug-in opponent, a frontal assault is not advisable. Secondly, when dealing with goblin-kin the most time-tested and approved progression of tactics follows a simple formula: Flattery, Bribery then battle. And as we are not here to defeat Serath (yet) the last step should be avoided at all costs.
Assuming that my companions, well-versed, resourceful and vastly intelligent as they may be, knew this simple formula was my mistake. As I approached the obvious leader of the group, the Hill Giant, and began to banter with words, I assumed the Companions would follow suit, or at least be ready with cover. As they were behind me I did not see them begin to disappear and draw weapons. Perhaps they thought this was another of my seemingly random acts, or that I was buying time to get into position to attack.
Before I knew what was happening the world was alive with vines, fire and blinding pain. Beside me Serine fell to the blast of a lightning bolt, the same bolt that nearly took the life of Mighty Kalistephos and myself. Entangled in the grip of a spell I knew that death awaited me, I had to get free. I found myself alone pitted against a now singed and stung Hill Giant, if the arrows of Quarion fell in support, I could not tell, but I do not doubt that he was instrumental in saving my life, or those of our other Companions.
In mere moments the battle was over, only then could stock be taken of what truly happened. I found much to my relief that Lady Serine was not dead, but sadly her valiant horse was. The initial fireball that was launched at the back of the enemy was cast by Furyondian Freedom-fighters, followed closely by a lightning bolt from the Companion’s own Rhyzzim. Unfortunately Rhyzzim’s blast first expended upon the Lady Serine and myself (as well as our mounts). Were it not for Lady Serine and I taking the brunt of that spell, I am sure that arc would have laid low all our opponents. N’er would I want to pit my steel against Rhyzzim’s mighty magics.
In the aftermath we discoursed with the Freedom Fighters and found that there were more such sized groups of organized monsters in the area, in fact their base camp for patrols and road blocks was not more than a few miles away. Learning from my earlier assumption, this time I explained a plan to the Companions. One that would not have us engaging in battle with scores of monsters, but would, with luck, have those same Monsters turning against their Master and unwittingly aiding us in our quest to begin a rebellion.
Logan and I, under the guise of wounded Orcs were to approach the camp and find the leaders, convince them that the lost Patrol had been attacked and destroyed by human soldiers loyal to the army of Serath. It was the intent of this to get all the goblin-kin tribes loyal to Serath, with their mighty giants, riled and angry enough to turn on those humans serving the Usurper. Confusion, Chaos and in-fighting would go a long way in destroying enemy morale, as well as showing the beleaguered masses that their Tyrant-Lord was not as in control as they were lead to believe.
Again it was an unfortunate assumption on my part that the Companions grasped this concept and could work themselves into the plan as support and rescue, as needed. I can only assume that my companions thought I was spear-heading my own suicide, and that it was their fear of my safety that drew them in so close as to be spotted by the Orc Guards. They do not yet realize how fine is the Razor’s edge between complete disaster and marginal success, that same edge upon which I walk my life’s path. A single misstep either way, into salvation or damnation, is the fickle chance of luck by which I rule my life. How strong must their faith in me be, or how obtuse their observations, to allow me to so often hold their lives and hopes in my hands? I pray to the souls who speak within me that I never let them down.
As we approached the compound, I feared not for my own life, long ago I had set aside that concern. But for the Gnome who accompanied me, Logan, I nearly turned back. Better that I put only myself at such critical risk. Let not others die for my foolish over-confidence. I should have placed more faith in Logan’s own spells, for his Illusions fooled the sentries completely, even after they spotted some of our Companions and a lightning bolt sprang from nowhere to raze their ranks. Again it was the blinding flash of magic that led our heedless charge into battle.
In those first heartbeats of furious conflict so much happened. Magic unleashed in such a hellfire conflaguration as I had never seen before. Rank and file of Orcs poured over their battlements to close melee with my companions, while a second ordered rank remained behind cover to support with bow. Fire Giants ran to the fore to coordinate movement and attack, and get their own hands dirty as well. For a time the illusions of the trickster Logan held true. The embattled Orcs allowed us passage through their ranks without contest, thinking us their brothers.
It was when I was between two ranks of enemies, between walls of steel and battlements of wood, that I saw my target, a shaman. It was also in this death vice that my world became a fury of fire and hell on Oearth. It would seem that once again, not an hour after the first lightning bolt, that Rhyzzim used me to aim another of his deadly spells, this one a storm of fire that surely boiled several Orcs into dust. Most unfortunately, however, was that it ruined my disguise as an Orc, between rows of dedicated enemies I was now unveiled, wounded and cut off from my companions. In this moment I knew my life to be forfeit.
It is amazing the thoughts that flood one’s mind in the mere eyeblink when you know death is upon you. I considered the fate of my devoted Minstrels, and of Kalistephos, and knew it was right to entrust them both to Lady Serine. I feared for the life of little Logan at my side, whom I did not know still appeared as an Orc, and the folly that I allowed him to approach with me. I had insight to the shame and dishonor that would plague my soul for eternity if he fell here. I thought of my deceased father, and wondered if he would be there to greet me. Had I lived my life to meet his hopes? Would he even know me as his son when our souls met? Would I even be allowed entry to the Elven Paradise so that I might meet him again, and know him as I never had in life? I worried that I had failed my Father’s Sister, Tyraia Starfall, who had put so much on the line, her own honor, to see me brought into the Order of the Broken Spear. And of Lady Aleasia Vin’Galean, would she even consider my life noteworthy? But mostly, in that heartbeat that I knew I would soon perish, I was blinded by the light of the life of my cousin, Aerstae Trullis-Starfall. I came to know, in my heart, in that moment that death hung over me, that my love of her was true. I regretted that I would never have the chance to tell her.
My thoughts in that instant were filled with doubt, regret and guilt. Not once, however, did I consider running, hiding or surrendering. I was wounded, trapped and disoriented, but my companions, my Friends were not. If in dying, I could give my last breath to save them, or even help them, I would. The shaman had drawn closer, I charged into the jaws of my impending demise. The shaman was that binding force supporting, holding and controlling our enemies. Even as I died he would be spit upon my sword. This I vowed.
Thinking only to cause as much havoc and fear as I could on my charge to the Shaman I let the Incarnum flow through me as never before. I know that I was screaming only from the hoarseness of my throat after the battle. My hands were ablaze with all the anger I could muster. I did not think my close friend Quarion would be watching for me, as always, nor that we had discussed marking targets for his deadly bow. On that battlefield I was alone with my rage and my duty. I thank all the souls that I will ever touch for that man, and pray for his long life of happiness. Even as I threw myself upon a rank of spear-wielding Orcs, they were blown away by a hail of arrows, fired with such precision and power that I felt their fletching kiss my cheeks and watched as Orcs sailed away into the air before my very eyes.
I slammed into the Shaman, bringing to bear all the power that I could, his reply nearly laid me low into the death I had seen coming. Were it not for the Lady Serine, and her Lord Quarion, I would not now live to write this account. The truest friends I will ever know, are those two. Between us three the Shaman realized his own fate, as I had earlier, I imagine he shared many of my thoughts, but had no duty to propel him forward. Instead he chose cowardice and ran, as did his magus companion, the pair whisked away on the wings of magic before we could finish them.
Complete disaster and marginal success, this is the Razor’s Edge on which I live my life. Today luck would show us successful, though many of us nearly paid with our lives.
Day 2: Orcish Burial Games
After that second battle we had managed to capture and interrogate one of the Fire Giants, a likable fellow of considerable honor. It was from him that we learned both of a small village to the south that was being used as a supply depot and small garrison for the Tyrant’s army, as well as a tribe of Orcs to the west that were dissatisfied with the role of goblinkin in this kingdom. As it turned out we had slain the son of this particular Tribes Chieftain.
I took this connection as a good omen, rather than ill. I knew I could use the accidental death of the Chieftain’s son to perhaps complete the mission I’d set out for the day before, with such failure. I took only one other, Azmodius the leader of the freedom-fighters, with me to the Orcs, while the rest of the Companion’s rode hard for the south and the supply depot. In hopes that they could locate the cowardly Shaman and Magus and silence them before word spread of our arrival and deeds. This also meant, that for once, my companions would not be interfering with my plans of negotiation.
It was a test of wills and another walk along the Razor’s Edge that won me a place of honor with the Chieftain. He is unwilling to commit to our cause without promise of compensation, which only Lady Serine can offer him. But for now I was able to secure his word of possible favorable outcomes, as well as his gratitude for the returning of his son and the words of his valor in combat. I did not have to lie to express my awe at the fortitude of the Chieftain’s son.
As it turns out the son of the Chief, also happened to be the son of the tribes Shaman. The powerful Druidess showed her gratitude in an altogether different matter. While the warriors of the tribe were allowing me to take part in the funeral games for their Prince, his mother was awakening the soul of Mighty Kalistephos. A horse that can understand and share in conversation, I never imagined such was possible before. Kalistephos has since told me many times how narrow is my view, especially for one that speaks to the souls of the living, dead and yet to be born.
Day 3: A peaceful ride
The morning after the Funeral Games for the Orc Prince saw myself and Azmodius mounted and off before the sun broke the horizon. We had a long ride to catch up to the companions ahead of us. Further would we be slowed as we set out to avoid all detection and confrontation until we could again be among our friends. I pray they did not get into trouble without me.
As wonderous as a talking horse is, sometimes I wish he would just shut up.
OOC Note: I thought it might be a little difficult to whip up a children's story about a simple battle or two. So I took this opportunity to post a little more directly in-character, as well as push back the curtain a little on the character that is The Great. I may continue using this medium... or swap back and forth between the two styles. Depending most on reader feedback.
OOC Note: I thought it might be a little difficult to whip up a children's story about a simple battle or two. So I took this opportunity to post a little more directly in-character, as well as push back the curtain a little on the character that is The Great. I may continue using this medium... or swap back and forth between the two styles. Depending most on reader feedback.
Of the two, your character's perspective has thusfar proven the more entertaining to peruse.
To the one who recieves this missive, it is with sad regret I report our quiet attempt that was well planned to inflitrate the enemy duckdom has met with bombastic failure rife with confused lightnings and slow words. I fear our attempt to carefully learn more about our enemy before we struck with care to inspire confidence in would be allies in our ability to plan and execute the enemies of God has been most completely and carelessly ruined by those who would best serve the paladin princess as murderers on the run without without safe haven and before they fly ignobably in fear and defeat.
I expect the party of "heros" will be tracked down and pursued with extreme prejudice for slaughtering a scheduled military patrol when they do not return to large and well guarded camp. What will the paladin princess do if the ignoble enemy resorts to retribution and ramdom murder on the enslaved local population becuase of her parties misdeeds to include the slaughter of the enemies heroic battlefeild wounded?
Will she give herself up as a truly noble paladin to the foul creatures for their sport to save her people from mass retailation by the occupying forces? Will the retatiation against the oppressed population combined with the enemie's 30 pieces of silver given as reward for betrayal cause the death of the party before the population decides to trust us since we now have no safe place to turn for hiding and planning the rebellion.
P.S. Captian, SS Nostromo distress signal says something about 40km safe distance.... Does anyone know what that <BRIGHT FLASH>
Greetings oh Ebil One...
What will I do? I don't know. Time will tell in the adventures to come. I only hope to lead my companions with valiant pride and bravery and befriend everyone I can to aid with the rebellion. I already know who my closest companions are. I hope to become just as close with the rest, so we can all assure our full victory in this battle. Well written my Lord The Great. They are a wonderful recap of previous events. As for which style of writing I prefer, I like them both. They are both noble and accurate tales of the last adventures and I anticipate each installment with great exuberance!
Where did The Great go? Everything ok? Hoping you are well:)
'Twould seem that there great dissention within the ranks of the heroes, the rebellion disintegrating even as it gets started.
Not even!~ Everythings great.... ^.^
This has made for some fantastic reading. I hope to see more from The Great.
I hope The Great comes back soon, for he is terribly missed :(
I will very soon (next few minutes if I can manage it) the GM's perspective on this campaign under the title of "Comments on an Epoch and a Queen". I hope I see everyone there and I hope I can encourage the players to post more.
Starting a Rebellion is Hard…
(When your best friends are your worst enemies)
Part III: Starting a Rebellion is Easy: A journal Entry
By the Souls of All this Quest is not yet over! With all my efforts and those of the Companions, we are not yet successful. Though I do believe that I’ve surpassed a milestone with the Orcs, we shall see how fare the Companions when Azmodius and I reach them today at the designated village.
Day 4: Not surprising surprises.
Not far from the village Azmodius and I ran across one of rebel fighters and his family, fleeing the town. Apparently my Companions caused quite a stir in the village by dispersing gold and messages to the downtrodden peasants. Word of this quickly reached the guards and within hours an interrogation was underway and those said-same peasants were fearful of the retribution.
Apparently punishment for any infraction is quick, brutal and without mercy or regard for the truly innocent. With this information he also told us that the Companions had each fled the city and headed for his cousin’s home in some distant city. The next most likely place for us to plan the rebellion. Fleeing one failure and running headlong into another travesty. I had prayed that they’d not get into trouble without me, I guess it wasn’t answered.
There was no hesitation nor need of disguise as Azmodius and I rode into town. The people seemed peaceful and friendly enough with no outward signs of fear. The General Store Keeper was in shop and hardly the worse for wear, when we were led to believe that his next stop would be a short drop and sudden halt. A friendly guard escorted us through the town and saw to it that I could acquire travel papers for myself and the rest of the Companions. No more battling through checkpoints.
Apparently the Second-in-Command of the whole region, a Cloud Giant named Laroth, was passing through the village and decided the attempted insurrection was without merit, thus were the Villagers spared. We would also learn later that Laroth was out and about to make rounds to visit his Lords demi-human troops along the northern border.
This evening Azmodius and I met up with the Companions to share a meal and some information. Something else had gone amiss, though on the surface at first it seemed as if all was normal. Rizzym was nowhere to be seen and Corinea was off sulking by herself, while Lord Quarion and Lady Serine sat together, Logan was no doubt planning some mischief. There was discussion of attacking the garrison at the village and much other nonsense. So whilst passing out new travel papers to each of them I calmly explained how ridiculous that plan would be, and how there was actually no need for it.
I learned quickly that there was some new tension between the Nymph, The Archer and the Paladin-Princess, even as Corinea was storming off, promising that she was washing her hands of us. So moody this troupe is, perhaps I’ll never understand them, but there went our primary healer.
Just as I was telling Lady Serine about the tentative alliance with the Tribe of Orcs, and the help they could offer in the effort, I was informed of Laroth looking in on the demi-human troops in the area. I had to inform Lady Serine that that tribe of Orcs was likely now dead then, immediately after informing her of the possible alliance. I assumed at once that Laroth would find the massacre of his troops along the border, and seek out those responsible. Unfortunately I had taken all their armor and weapons to give as gifts to the Orc Chief just the day before. Unknowingly did I set them out to take the blame of the assault on Serath’s troops. All that hard work was for naught.
Day 5: Enlightenment through Pain
(Here it should be noted that the once clear and neat hand-writing of The Great as previously witnessed in his personal journal is now a motley collection of nearly illegible scratching, with no regard for spacing, punctuation, margin or even direction of text. The following re-printing has taken several hours to compile, having to sort through sentences that crawl in spirals around a page, sometimes written backwards or upside down, and re-format them into some sort of cohesive and intelligible structure.)
Beauty: Pure, innocent, calm and eternal. Oh what the senses cannot begin to tell us of what awaits for us. For all those that have died to experience what those living cannot fathom, a tragedy. Peace and love to be felt all around like the warmth of lover’s embrace beneath down and fire. I know now what to expect after life, I cannot wait to die… again.
Mighty Kalistephos, oh a beast more true I will never know. As stalwart and unyielding as any knight could pray to achieve. T’was upon his back that I felt the blast that would lay me low. Twisting, turning a charge was imminent, one against twenty and not a hesitation to charge. Headlong, without fear, into a bank of lowering lances, charging into a wall of blazing anger. As one, a trio struck, as mighty as the Wizard’s lightning, as true as the Archer’s arrow, a single blow it felt, piercing cloth, armor, flesh and life.
Blasted with such malcontent from the saddle of Kalistephos I felt naught of pain, but the burning calm of home-welcoming. Passing from life into death lingered, the passage twisting and confusing, twining and wrapping full of images of memories not remembered. Love was but a thought, Aerstae a dream, oh my beloved Aerstae, my regrets weighed as anchor in storm-tossed sea.
I remember seeing. Blackness crept in to steal my sight, yet the churning of powerful hooves flashed to protect my corpse. I remember feeling. Cold heat exploding slowly over my chest. I remember hearing. Nothing. Clear as crystal was that fall, as silent as the night.
The world turned blue, I was in a warm river of light and warmth. No, it was the river of life that held me now. It felt as Incarnum shaped around me. It was the soul-stream the essence of souls that hides beyond the knowing world. I know it. It knew me, welcomed me, brought me home.
Here was beauty and bliss, happiness and welcome. All the joy ever experienced by those that had already passed, the expectations of those waiting to join life, the newness of those currently so full of life. Paradise, Heaven, Olympia… words only that have no meaning next to the truth of the understanding of what lies after death. I was home, I was happy, I was free.
Anger.
In the warm wash of bliss it rose as a sudden cold cancer, eating, devouring, rotting, pulling, tugging and gnawing at me from the inside. For all the power and hope wrapped up in the notion of love, its counter-point, no less powerful or directed is rage. Uncontested, primal, visceral and demanding Rage.
In a flash of burning, searing cold was I torn, ripped and bleeding from the womb of creation, back into the lifeless land of the living. Drawn so forcibly away from the soul-stream, removed brutally from the cycle of life. Icy were the hands that lay upon me, foreign was the visage of Serine, looking upon me. An ache swelled in my chest to rival that of the triple lances that had laid me low an eternity ago. An ache of longing, need and regret that would swell and burst, filling with the hate and rage of countless millions fallen before me.
I remember the return much more clearly than the first crossing. It was cold, and I was pushed as much as I was pulled. The pulling was from gentle hands, compassionate, with only my best interests in mind. How would Serine have known she was cursing me? The pushing came from the soul-stream, hard, savage and brutal the souls pushed me back to the living. Expelled me from their paradise violently.
It was my anger at being pulled away that awakened them. The souls of the wronged, the souls of those that died without purpose, the souls of those that had been innocent at the gallows, the souls of those that had loved and lost. The souls that demanded vengeance.
It was their own rage and anger that thrust me back into life. It is their rage that fills me now. It is their focus which allows me to shape Incarnum into the instrument of their vengeance. It is their cries of agony that pierce the soul of those that witness the blue flame that is my Blade of Virtue.
Laroth broke my word. Serath punishes and enslaves.
I am Vengence.
I hope to never have to bring you back again, for I had no idea the pain it would cause you. I hope to be of great assistance to you on your vengeful path. Keep the faith and all will turn out alright. At least now you can remain with your love. I will defend you with my life always, for you are a dear friend, brave and true.
-Serine