Destiny seems to have split our dream asunder and I fear it bodes ill for my fate. I do not understand the will of Gods. When I think they have laid a path before us, it is then blown to the mists. When we seemed first on the eve of uniting our Sextet of Dreams, the Dwarven duo were taken from us. Sent far to Forge, I fear what will become of us with the circle joined and then broken. Perhaps Forge is where we must journey.
The guard seem willing to aid us here and with them we have shared blood against the terrible dead. The power of steel in the hands of the willing seems able to conquer the restless dead that appear to guard our sly deceiver, and I wonder how long he can call on the fallen to aid him. I think this bodes well for our future endeavors, but I fear without direction we will soon share the fate of the good men already fallen attempting to discern the true face of our enemy. I willse my sister again, but I think not so soon as this. Erastil will watch my back while Gorum guides my hand through some terrible fate I think. Blood and many moons will yet reveal the will of Gods. Father steel my heart and keep to Mother if you are able.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Soldiers Log: Yberre Hammersmith
Fortune seems to have turned in my favor of late. After wandering without any real purpose for since being freed, I seem to have fallen into some action of genuine interest to me. I do not yet know what will occur, but I smell the clever scent of fortune on the winds. I shall have to be wary of the company I have fallen into. My golden companion does not seem to have the kindness that Bannion did. While good natured, the magic that seems to corrupt his flesh seems also to affect his demeanor. Under duress, I was forced to restrain him from slicing a child's throat when he felt threatened. I am concerned how far this condition will progress with him, but he seems to be some key to a mystery I do not yet understand and it seems many different forces are interested in obtaining him. I do not see how keeping him safe can not somehow result in our benefit in the long term. For so many to be interested, whatever this great value he has is, it must eventually reveal itself.
The woman who calls herself, Honor, appears to be of ranking merchant blood. While she appears to be of simple motivation, her ties to the halls of wealth and power can only work to our advantage as this mysterious series of events continues to unfold. I must keep an eye on the acquaintances those ties bring or way. She apparently keeps company with a Wizard that may be able to shed light on our recent series of events. Be wary of Wizards with unreliable Origin, my father would always say, and this one appears to be something of a shady character from what little I have heard. We shall see.
My greater concern is her Dwarven consort from Forge. A holy man and a hunter, their zealousness is matched only by their obvious inexperience in battle. They seem to be on a quest to rid their home of some ancient evil and they have sworn to protect the woman for some part they believe she must play in that. The holy man is a healer and welcome in any fight, but I am sure I must teach these strange fellows the ways of war if we are to survive the coming days. Perhaps this is the will of Gorum, I do not know. Still, I can not deny the excitement I have. May Erastil watch over me and Gorum guide my hand, I feel I am embarking now down a road sure to end in glory and riches or on my shield. I shall find my destiny.
The woman who calls herself, Honor, appears to be of ranking merchant blood. While she appears to be of simple motivation, her ties to the halls of wealth and power can only work to our advantage as this mysterious series of events continues to unfold. I must keep an eye on the acquaintances those ties bring or way. She apparently keeps company with a Wizard that may be able to shed light on our recent series of events. Be wary of Wizards with unreliable Origin, my father would always say, and this one appears to be something of a shady character from what little I have heard. We shall see.
My greater concern is her Dwarven consort from Forge. A holy man and a hunter, their zealousness is matched only by their obvious inexperience in battle. They seem to be on a quest to rid their home of some ancient evil and they have sworn to protect the woman for some part they believe she must play in that. The holy man is a healer and welcome in any fight, but I am sure I must teach these strange fellows the ways of war if we are to survive the coming days. Perhaps this is the will of Gorum, I do not know. Still, I can not deny the excitement I have. May Erastil watch over me and Gorum guide my hand, I feel I am embarking now down a road sure to end in glory and riches or on my shield. I shall find my destiny.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Golden Fire: The Journal of Cluidhn Malta-i-nour
{scrawled in a mixture of elven and draconic}
After being saved by my new brother-in-arms Yberre, we trudged east along the baywater, across the farmlands to the human city of Valeria. At the outskirts, we made camp. That night, I had a vision cloaked in a dream. I awoke as a legionnaire, wearing a strange helm of elven craft, standing with a rank of battlemages as a vast host of monsters approached. In concert with the mages, I smote the evil beasts with spells powerful and arcane, and in the press of battle I found myself standing with a fantastically armored Yberre, and those whom I know know to be Honor Brightstar and Markas Serpenthelm. A monstrous insect approached, enormous and beetle-like, and menaced Yberre with a wicked claw. My battlespells skittered off of it's chitinous hide, and it knocked my friend to the ground and pinned him there. As it prepared a death blow, an axe whipped head over haft through the air and smashed into one of the beast's legs. Two dwarves in shining armor trundled up to the beast and dispatched it in a flurry of blows from axe and hammer. As they smote the evil thing, a great dwarven host followed them into the fray. The tides of battle shifted then, and revealed a new and greater threat. A horde of humans, mingled with a few dwarves, elves and halflings, their eyes dead and soulless, their faces fixed masks of evil and hate. I recognized some of my kin from the sylvan wood, but they were possessed with some malevolent fury. The horde approached... And I awoke with a gasp.
Across the campfire, Yberre had awoken as well, his brow furrowed. Somehow, we had shared the dream. I can only guess that great Apsu had sent us this vision, to warn us of a future threat both vast and terrible. Unsettled, we slumped back into our bedrolls. After a day of wandering, we came upon an inn called The Other Slice, and secured temporary employment with the matron, a large human woman known as Lady Anna. Yberre would cook and I would clean in exchange for meals and lodging. It wasn't long before Honor, a human female who shared our vision, showed up at the inn and engaged Yberre in conversation. I gathered that they had been slaves on the same island, and knew each other somewhat. Then two bombastic dwarves showed up, one bellicose, the other scruffy. Their names were Hagbard and Hralf, and they had been sent to hire Honor for something or other. There was alot of barking back and forth in dwarvish, a language I have never bothered to learn. The strange thing about them is that they were the two dwarves from the vision, the ones who had saved Yberre from the giant beetle-thing. The dwarves rented a room for the night and we went upstairs to try to figure out what in Apsu's golden lair was going on.
Suddenly, there was a scream from below and as we rushed into the hall, Honor was hit by a crossbow bolt. Hralf ran down the stairs and stood in between my bow and the enemy, a frustrating situation to be sure. Yberre tried to yell tactical advice to everyone, but the dwarves and myself ended up downstairs, covered in blood with crossbow bolts whickering in from the windows. A mustachioed half-elf wielded a scimitar and buckler with incredible skill, dodging my sorcerous fire and then attempting to drag me from the inn. I scored him deeply with dragon's claws and then a cloud of mist filled the inn. The human scum escaped by the time Yberre had donned his chain mail, leapt from the second floor, and raced to the front door. The city guard came and were about as useful as city guards ever are, and dragged us to their barracks. From there, Honor tooks us to the palace of her family patriarch or something, and Brian Brightstar fed me drugged meat and asked useless questions about my homeland. That night, Honor and Hralf followed some filthy creature from the underdark as it delivered a scroll case to a Lord Tennyson, king of her house I think. These humans breed like rabbits and have more titles than blades of grass. The following morning, as we all stepped outside to meet with a troop of mercenaries who were to guard us against further attack, I saw a bright splotch of fresh red blood upon the lawn. As we looked for the missing mercenaries, we were attacked once again, this time by a group of slavering zombies. An armored Yberre led the fight, and we massacred the foul things. And then, more human guardsmen showed up and accused us of murder. Honor was able to sway them with her silver tongue, and we ended up at another barracks.
Apparently, this mustachioed half-elf had told the guard that we were killing humans at the estate. His warning came a good ten minutes before we were attacked, so we know that this villain is in league with the necromancer(s) who summoned the undead. We then paid to have the underdark scroll translated and it read "Great lords of the sunshine realm. Greetings from the king of lesser darkness. On next predator moon, entreat with me and you and your kin may be spared. Those who do not will surely die. My head is swimming now with all this unfamiliar intrigue, but I know one thing: this mustachioed halfbreed and his leader Praxis or Pring or some such, they will answer some questions for us or they will meet a swift and bloody end. Apsu bring me justice and safety. -Year 3585, city of Valeria-
After being saved by my new brother-in-arms Yberre, we trudged east along the baywater, across the farmlands to the human city of Valeria. At the outskirts, we made camp. That night, I had a vision cloaked in a dream. I awoke as a legionnaire, wearing a strange helm of elven craft, standing with a rank of battlemages as a vast host of monsters approached. In concert with the mages, I smote the evil beasts with spells powerful and arcane, and in the press of battle I found myself standing with a fantastically armored Yberre, and those whom I know know to be Honor Brightstar and Markas Serpenthelm. A monstrous insect approached, enormous and beetle-like, and menaced Yberre with a wicked claw. My battlespells skittered off of it's chitinous hide, and it knocked my friend to the ground and pinned him there. As it prepared a death blow, an axe whipped head over haft through the air and smashed into one of the beast's legs. Two dwarves in shining armor trundled up to the beast and dispatched it in a flurry of blows from axe and hammer. As they smote the evil thing, a great dwarven host followed them into the fray. The tides of battle shifted then, and revealed a new and greater threat. A horde of humans, mingled with a few dwarves, elves and halflings, their eyes dead and soulless, their faces fixed masks of evil and hate. I recognized some of my kin from the sylvan wood, but they were possessed with some malevolent fury. The horde approached... And I awoke with a gasp.
Across the campfire, Yberre had awoken as well, his brow furrowed. Somehow, we had shared the dream. I can only guess that great Apsu had sent us this vision, to warn us of a future threat both vast and terrible. Unsettled, we slumped back into our bedrolls. After a day of wandering, we came upon an inn called The Other Slice, and secured temporary employment with the matron, a large human woman known as Lady Anna. Yberre would cook and I would clean in exchange for meals and lodging. It wasn't long before Honor, a human female who shared our vision, showed up at the inn and engaged Yberre in conversation. I gathered that they had been slaves on the same island, and knew each other somewhat. Then two bombastic dwarves showed up, one bellicose, the other scruffy. Their names were Hagbard and Hralf, and they had been sent to hire Honor for something or other. There was alot of barking back and forth in dwarvish, a language I have never bothered to learn. The strange thing about them is that they were the two dwarves from the vision, the ones who had saved Yberre from the giant beetle-thing. The dwarves rented a room for the night and we went upstairs to try to figure out what in Apsu's golden lair was going on.
Suddenly, there was a scream from below and as we rushed into the hall, Honor was hit by a crossbow bolt. Hralf ran down the stairs and stood in between my bow and the enemy, a frustrating situation to be sure. Yberre tried to yell tactical advice to everyone, but the dwarves and myself ended up downstairs, covered in blood with crossbow bolts whickering in from the windows. A mustachioed half-elf wielded a scimitar and buckler with incredible skill, dodging my sorcerous fire and then attempting to drag me from the inn. I scored him deeply with dragon's claws and then a cloud of mist filled the inn. The human scum escaped by the time Yberre had donned his chain mail, leapt from the second floor, and raced to the front door. The city guard came and were about as useful as city guards ever are, and dragged us to their barracks. From there, Honor tooks us to the palace of her family patriarch or something, and Brian Brightstar fed me drugged meat and asked useless questions about my homeland. That night, Honor and Hralf followed some filthy creature from the underdark as it delivered a scroll case to a Lord Tennyson, king of her house I think. These humans breed like rabbits and have more titles than blades of grass. The following morning, as we all stepped outside to meet with a troop of mercenaries who were to guard us against further attack, I saw a bright splotch of fresh red blood upon the lawn. As we looked for the missing mercenaries, we were attacked once again, this time by a group of slavering zombies. An armored Yberre led the fight, and we massacred the foul things. And then, more human guardsmen showed up and accused us of murder. Honor was able to sway them with her silver tongue, and we ended up at another barracks.
Apparently, this mustachioed half-elf had told the guard that we were killing humans at the estate. His warning came a good ten minutes before we were attacked, so we know that this villain is in league with the necromancer(s) who summoned the undead. We then paid to have the underdark scroll translated and it read "Great lords of the sunshine realm. Greetings from the king of lesser darkness. On next predator moon, entreat with me and you and your kin may be spared. Those who do not will surely die. My head is swimming now with all this unfamiliar intrigue, but I know one thing: this mustachioed halfbreed and his leader Praxis or Pring or some such, they will answer some questions for us or they will meet a swift and bloody end. Apsu bring me justice and safety. -Year 3585, city of Valeria-
Origin of a Warrior: Yberre Hammersmith
Born to the son of a smith in the small village outpost of Geantautomne in Southern Hibernia, Yberre Hammersmith was born into a life of hardship. Geantautomne was a village of fiercely independent Hibernians who resented the Empire. Living a simple life of farmers and trappers, most the people of the village lived on self subsistence and trade with the local hill tribes. Yberre's parents, Remy and Martine, lived in a life of relative comfort for this village, owning a home of hardy thatch and mud. Martine was an excellent cook, and though the family often had to forage for food in the wild during lean times, they always ate good food.
The life of a smith provided regular income for Remy as a small imperial fort was being built to watch over the locals, and the legion had regular need for iron braces and nails as well as horseshoes, weapons and armor to outfit their men. Since Remy had to buy most of his iron ore from the legion and then sell the crafted items back to them, his profits were slender, but in that part of the Empire, any source of regular work was a great boon of security.
It was this relationship with the Legion and the relative comfort that came with it that made many of the least fortunate people of Geantautomne envious and distrustful of the Hammersmith family. Constantly exposed to torment and abuse from the older children, Remy took his son into the smithy to protect him and begin his learning the trade at the tender age of 8. Remy raised his son with a nose for fine steel, and Yberre fell fast in love with the art of blademaking. He spent many long hours pumping the bellows for his father, while Remy pounded and folded the ore, filling the long days of toil with ancient tales of Giants and Gods to teach Yberre wisdom. After years of working barrow and bellow, Yberre had grown enough to lift his own hammer, and spent many long hours mastering the folded mystery of a brilliant blade. In very short time, Yberre grew from the slight boy of his youth, to a hulking young man hardened by the toils of the forge.
At the age of 16, with the small fort complete, Yberre was delivering an order of iron goods to the Legion when the officer in command, Tibertine Aurelicus, noticed the strength and size of the local boy and solicited him to join the legion. After a long discussion with his family, they decided that to join the Legion would be an opportunity for Yberre to rise up above their simple lifestyle and find a kind of security unknown in their village. Yberre trained for 2 years with the legion and was granted his sword with the highest honors for courage and strength in combat.
Yberre settled into life at the garrison with his duty firmly in mind and all was quiet in his soldiers life until a particularly bad winter left the ground frozen through spring planting and many livestock dead. The hill tribes, desperate with starvation, had risen up to pillage what they could from and settled land. The people of towns and villages had no choice but to join the marauders, or be killed. When they came to Geantautomne, the Hammersmiths resisted. When the barbarian horde reached the fort, they laid siege to it that lasted 3 days, but with only 20 men to hold off the efforts of hundreds of barbarians, the outcome was inevitable. Most fo the Legionnaires were slain, but wounded and alive, Yberre was not killed as he was a local.
Spared for his local ties, but still hated as a soldier of the Enemy, Yberre was sold into slavery with some others off the western coast to pirates who traffic in human flesh. Brought to a secret and infamous pirate island, Yberre was kept as a slave for 5 long years by his captors until the Imperial Navy located the secret base and liberated all enslaved there. Once brought ashore, he was asked by the Legion as capture din the line of duty, was granted 5 years of back pay with valorous service compensation and offered a chance to return to the Legion. Tired of servitude after long years of slavery, Yberre opted to seek out his own way and retired from the Legion. With what gold he had, he invested in hearty arms and armor, and went to go find his way in the world with dreams of some day having a simple place of his own, a place where he could lodge travelers, hear about the world, serve fine food and never have to wander far from home, wherever it might be.
In looking for work, Yberre came across a group of pilgrims traveling across the Empire who needed a bodyguard and though they had little money to offer, Yberre gladly took the work to give him some direction. It was in this job that he came to his current companionship. Keeping guard at the front of the caravan, the party was forced to stop to shouts of, "thief, murderer, devil!" Rushing to the main store wagon, Yberre found a large group of pilgrims had gathered around a strange gold tinted fey being. He seemed confused and out of sorts, while the pilgrims in a fanatical fury, seemed determined to hand him for being an instrument of devils. As the lynch mob closed in on the frightened elfen creature, Yberre saw a great injustice unfolding before him and felt he must intervene. With a drawing of steel and a bellow only a man of his stature might be able to muster, Yberre demanded the pilgrims cease their assault. WIth a flip of coins to the paymaster to return his wages, Yberre took his new found companion and they set off away from the fanatics to find their next untold fate...
The life of a smith provided regular income for Remy as a small imperial fort was being built to watch over the locals, and the legion had regular need for iron braces and nails as well as horseshoes, weapons and armor to outfit their men. Since Remy had to buy most of his iron ore from the legion and then sell the crafted items back to them, his profits were slender, but in that part of the Empire, any source of regular work was a great boon of security.
It was this relationship with the Legion and the relative comfort that came with it that made many of the least fortunate people of Geantautomne envious and distrustful of the Hammersmith family. Constantly exposed to torment and abuse from the older children, Remy took his son into the smithy to protect him and begin his learning the trade at the tender age of 8. Remy raised his son with a nose for fine steel, and Yberre fell fast in love with the art of blademaking. He spent many long hours pumping the bellows for his father, while Remy pounded and folded the ore, filling the long days of toil with ancient tales of Giants and Gods to teach Yberre wisdom. After years of working barrow and bellow, Yberre had grown enough to lift his own hammer, and spent many long hours mastering the folded mystery of a brilliant blade. In very short time, Yberre grew from the slight boy of his youth, to a hulking young man hardened by the toils of the forge.
At the age of 16, with the small fort complete, Yberre was delivering an order of iron goods to the Legion when the officer in command, Tibertine Aurelicus, noticed the strength and size of the local boy and solicited him to join the legion. After a long discussion with his family, they decided that to join the Legion would be an opportunity for Yberre to rise up above their simple lifestyle and find a kind of security unknown in their village. Yberre trained for 2 years with the legion and was granted his sword with the highest honors for courage and strength in combat.
Yberre settled into life at the garrison with his duty firmly in mind and all was quiet in his soldiers life until a particularly bad winter left the ground frozen through spring planting and many livestock dead. The hill tribes, desperate with starvation, had risen up to pillage what they could from and settled land. The people of towns and villages had no choice but to join the marauders, or be killed. When they came to Geantautomne, the Hammersmiths resisted. When the barbarian horde reached the fort, they laid siege to it that lasted 3 days, but with only 20 men to hold off the efforts of hundreds of barbarians, the outcome was inevitable. Most fo the Legionnaires were slain, but wounded and alive, Yberre was not killed as he was a local.
Spared for his local ties, but still hated as a soldier of the Enemy, Yberre was sold into slavery with some others off the western coast to pirates who traffic in human flesh. Brought to a secret and infamous pirate island, Yberre was kept as a slave for 5 long years by his captors until the Imperial Navy located the secret base and liberated all enslaved there. Once brought ashore, he was asked by the Legion as capture din the line of duty, was granted 5 years of back pay with valorous service compensation and offered a chance to return to the Legion. Tired of servitude after long years of slavery, Yberre opted to seek out his own way and retired from the Legion. With what gold he had, he invested in hearty arms and armor, and went to go find his way in the world with dreams of some day having a simple place of his own, a place where he could lodge travelers, hear about the world, serve fine food and never have to wander far from home, wherever it might be.
In looking for work, Yberre came across a group of pilgrims traveling across the Empire who needed a bodyguard and though they had little money to offer, Yberre gladly took the work to give him some direction. It was in this job that he came to his current companionship. Keeping guard at the front of the caravan, the party was forced to stop to shouts of, "thief, murderer, devil!" Rushing to the main store wagon, Yberre found a large group of pilgrims had gathered around a strange gold tinted fey being. He seemed confused and out of sorts, while the pilgrims in a fanatical fury, seemed determined to hand him for being an instrument of devils. As the lynch mob closed in on the frightened elfen creature, Yberre saw a great injustice unfolding before him and felt he must intervene. With a drawing of steel and a bellow only a man of his stature might be able to muster, Yberre demanded the pilgrims cease their assault. WIth a flip of coins to the paymaster to return his wages, Yberre took his new found companion and they set off away from the fanatics to find their next untold fate...
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