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Item Prizes!
- For outstanding service to the people of Maj Duhl, Kakow receives The Pouch of Prosperity and the title “Hero of Maj Duhl”. This physical prize allows the recipient to receive 5 gp from the Coin Marshall at the beginning of every future Darkon event. This only works for Kakow, and the orginial pouch must be present to receive the coin.
- For tying for the most single combat wins at Hades, and then winning a tiebreaking battle against Tyranus, Rorik receives the title “The Champion of Death” and Boneblade, also known as Dragon Spine, also knowns as The Mercy of Durga. This is a PD glaive that has a white cover. It is a magic weapon and is indestructable and unbreakable.
- For best RP, Whisper Everhate wins the Bottle of Dreams. This leather drinking vessel produces one potion of the player’s choice per adventure day. This only works for Whisper with the original bottle. In addition, liquids in this vessel may never be poisoned.
- For best garb/ kit/ look the part Guafo (Sgt. Cole) receives Innocence, a PD dagger with a leather sheath. This is a magic weapon.
- For Best DiProsperos, Saif wins their PD Buckler (indestructable and unbreakable for one year)
- For Best Crimson Lotus, Braxus wins their PD Buckler (indestructable and unbreakable for one year)
- For Best Reaver, Zug wins their PD Buckler (indestructable and unbreakable for one year)
- For most deaths Erikjetter receives The Maj Duhl Med Kit. This is a physical prize that contains 4 bottles- 2 are Potions of Ressurection, and 2 are Ointments of Mending. They are consumed on use.
- For best camp (their setup in the City of Maj Duhl), Bloody Axe Mercenary Guild wins Judu Gara’s Map Box. This small wooden chest bears a Map of the Serican Crossroads. While in the winning country’s camp, this box cannot be opened or looted by any means. Only country members are able to open or move it.
- For establishing the best trade relationship with Judu Gara (or usurping him, but the peaceful path was chosen), The Triumvirate of Blackwatch receive the Keys To Maj Duhl. This ring of iron keys can open any lock or gate once per adventure day. The keys also bestow ownership of the Brass Citadel as descibed in Land Map Prizes.
Land Map Prizes!
- For best support of the Reavers, BAMC may take 3 Reaver NPCs on a Land Search once per season at no cost. Reavers take plate hits and have the ability Stoneskin.
- For best support of the Crimson Lotus, No Quarter! may take 3 Crimson Lotus NPCs on a Land Search once per season at no cost. Crimson Lotus take plate hits and inflict double red damage with swords, great swords, daggers and bows.
- For best support of House diProspero, Blackwatch may take 3 diProspero NPCs on a Land Search once per season at no cost. diProspero take plate hits and inflict Agony Poison with every hit.
- All of the countries formally aligned with House diProspero: Legio, Blackwatch, Black Hand, Chosen Blood, The Shire, & Myriador win the City of Maj Duhl. This consists of a number of adjoining provinces with cities on them, one for each country on the winning faction in Judu’s Contest. These provinces will be placed in a cluster in the New World by the Land Marshal.
- For best monster, Minathlon and Eldior win the Maj Duhl Menagerie. They each receive a province with a keep placed on it adjoining the City of Maj Duhl. The keep may be upgraded to a castle at the winner’s expense. If this structure is ever attacked, the country may field it’s monster in the siege defense and the monster will not count in the defending army’s total number. In addition, once per season the country may bring their monster on a Land Search.
- The Triumvirate of Blackwatch wins an additional province placed in the Maj Duhl cluster with a keep on it called the Brass Citadel. The keep may be upgraded to a castle at the winner’s expense. This province taxes all other provinces of Maj Duhl, including the Menagerie- owners of the other hexes earn only half of their produce. The difference is earned by the owner of the Brass Citadel. If the Brass Citadel is ever sacked or successfully taken by another country, it forever loses it’s ability to tax the other provinces of Maj Duhl.
“Did you see all the wanted posters that went up?” said the old man at the bar.
“Yup” said the barkeep, “Looks like they got money on another bandit”.
“Yeah, but how come they don’t have no picture? How’s anyone supposed to find ‘em, let alone turn ‘em in? seems mighty stupid.”
“Yup” said the barkeep.
“I heard they want this guy pretty bad, can’t say they didn’t put enough gold on his head. I sure could use that money. Bell needs to retire, she can’t pull that plow no more, and you know my well is running low. Jake’s only got three legs now; missus passed away few years back, might as well just start digging my own grave.”
“Yup” said the barkeep. “Then again just about everyone round here could use it.”
A third man leans over breaking into the conversation, “Don’t you know who that is?” he asked the two.
“Nope” said the barkeep.
“That there is the Black Hand, ya fools.” says the stranger “How can you not have heard of him here, seems he is everywhere.”
”What’s so special about this bandit anyway?” says the old man , eyeing up the stranger still covered in road dust.
“The Black Hand isn’t just a bandit, he is the Bandit King; he has quite the following now. Men and women from all walks of life have flocked to him. Heard he has no regard for nobility, and I can’t say I blame ‘em neither after hear’in his story” continues the traveler.
“Well you gonna leave us sittin here, or you gonna tell it?” said the old man.
“My throat is mighty dry” he said with a side long glance towards the barkeep.
Master Scrivener Xynn Errdegahr
Personal scribe to Lord Thyanaos Wrathis
Last of his house, minder of the Demongate
As you requested, I have compiled the reports on the unknown and untapped primeval forest known as Gloamwood. Deep within the perpetual twilight of this hinterland, dwell two tribes of note, the Clan of the Wolf and the Clan of the Crow. Each wax and wane over time, each contesting locations of unknown significance within the choked ancient forest they call home. Their disputes stretching so far back into distant time that encounters are more ritualistic display than open warfare. Not much is known of either clan as Gloamwood is largely unexplored. All scouts sent to investigate rarely return, and the few that have, have returned less than men. Their minds shattered, speaking of cannibalism, tales of men taking the forms of animals, and diabolic rites dedicated to unspeakable names. Perhaps it is fortunate that these tribes avoid contact with the civilized world.
I have thoroughly checked and rechecked the records and can find nothing of significance that would compel us to further explore this region at this time. The only abundant resource appears to be wood, madness, and death.
–Under Scholar Nuror Yfein
Library of Dha Dhaos Qhayshek
Capital City of Ched Nasad
The long night was finally upon us, the watcher of Mother Day was blinded and the umbral color of the night sky was unbroken. The wayward path of the void, a rite of passage for the youths, was to be performed tonight. Another group would be ushered to adults, to walk the paths of Father Night. The old man thought as he squat in his deerskin shelter, fetishes swaying, although no breeze could penetrate the darkened clutch of Maung. Ancient joints complained as he stood, leaning heavily on his walking stick, a large crow perched on its peak. The deep aches reminded him of how long he had walked to get here, how long he had walked the paths of the Father, and how soon he would be returned to the oblivion from which he was birthed.
His straying thoughts were interrupted by the gathering of his lonesome people. The youths formed a knot of anxious faces at its front. They pretended bravery, but he had long ago seen past the falsities of form. His milk white eyes, like white river stones deep within the pits of his earthen face, penetrated the depths of all that he beheld, and not many could bear his gaze for long.
The medicine bowl was filled and passed around. It was not long before he could sense the effects taking hold. The air began to throb, forms began to melt, and the ancient spirits of darkest night made themselves known. Slowly and softly at first a drum spoke, only to be subtly joined by another and another, until the drumming reached an arrhythmic peak, and incessant and unending barrage. The rest of the clan were dancing and weaving a circle around them, forming the cycle of decay and entropy, that which has no beginning and no ending. The young laying in heaps as visions assailed them and the Father spoke. Not all could bear his message, nor all would merit his attention, and passage was not guaranteed. Not all who tested themselves would wake, and none that did would be the same. To gaze upon the face of the Father was to understand the futility of life, of light, and chaos.
Not one word was uttered during the ritual. The bond that was formed between the members of the Crow Clan allowed communication beyond mere words.
Slowly a few initiates woke and were tested for signs of the Father. The untouched were stilled immediately, their carcasses thrown into the thicket, and returned to the earth. The night progressed deeper and deeper with a few diminutive forms still in the torpor of visions. Until he could see the very edge of the night receding, Mother Day encroaching on their privacy. Their time was almost at an end, the wayward path could not be performed under her cruel and jealous gaze. Those that did not wake soon would never do so again. The old man pulled out a thin sharp piece of bone and began culling the remaining forms, one after another. Perhaps this time they would welcome only a few into the tribe. As he made his way, with as much haste as his elderly form could manage, to the last child he saw that it was stirring. A quick glance over his shoulder showed scant seconds before the night was lost to them. Not enough time, perhaps he would be born again from the abyss and have better luck next time. The old man stooped placing the thin bone blade to the child’s throat, the razor sharp point drawing a bead of crimson fluid from the pale throat. With finality the old man leaned into it, the blade driven deep into the child.
The child’s eyes breached with alacrity, displaying solid black orbs. The mouth broke open like a fissure and ebony poured forth. The cacophony that spilled was terrible and beautiful, some that stood nearby were stuck down, blood running from their ears. The ruptured wound knit closed and the child no longer collapsed just as the first ray of light sundered the night sky.
The old man gathered the now unconscious form, the last of the newly welcomed to the tribe. Five had made the journey and would be welcomed properly the next night. This last one had been more than touched by the Father, whose magnitude could not be contained by a mortal form. It was clear he would be someone to watch, and set on the path of the wise. He would take this young man under his tutelage, and he would name him. The child died that night, but the vessel known as Deadsmell was born.
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The child begged for monies on the fabled high arched streets of Tarimstahd, a few kind souls dropped coppers, but mostly he was met with cold indifference or worse. He would never have enough in time, each day she slipped deeper into an excruciating nightmare. There was another way, there had to be another way.
The child took to the streets, looking for loose purse strings, unattended parcels; whatever he could get his hands on. Day after day he worked his new trade, never obtaining enough, barely getting away more than a few times.
Finally the time had come; he saw an old jewel-smith in his shop, his attention on the noble woman attending his wares. A few choice pieces had been laid out on the far counter. If only he could get his hands on one of them, his mother would be peaceful, she could finally be allowed a dignified death. He crept closer, keeping an eye on the passersby and the shopkeeper. Step by step, closer and closer, until he stood a mere arm’s length away. With a final breath, he steadied himself and lunged, only to have a hand clamp down on his wrist.
Overcome with surprise the child yelped, quickly jerking back to see his assailant.
“Harris we have us a small problem here sir”, said the newcomer while holding the child by his arm.
Harris quickly turned to see the commotion. “My dear lady, I am so sorry for this complication, I shall have this street urchin removed at once. Please continue to look over our wares, I shall be just a minute.”
Harris walked over to his assistant, “Take this damnable street rat elsewhere and teach him a lesson, while I try to get this grey haired harpy to buy something and stop wasting my damn time”.
The child was dragged deeper into shop, and finally out back. “You’re gonna learn something here boy, you gonna learn not to steal from your betters, and when they see you they will know it too”.
The child was dragged by the arm, in the wake of the larger store attendant, directly to the forge. The initial heat hit him like a physical presence, but it was nothing compared to the unbelievable agony, the searing, disorienting torment of his hand as it was pressed into the furnace. The smell of burnt flesh filled the room, what should have been a few seconds felt like a lifetime of unbelievable agony.
Then nothing.
When the child awoke in some alley, he was a child no longer, his innocence stolen and yet replaced with a cold iron core. Cradling his disfigured hand he made his way back to his home. It didn’t take him long to find their hovel in the poorest district. The entire way home he was silent, stifling any screams that threatened to spill from his lips. Not until he passed the threshold of his home did he finally speak a word.. “mother…. Mother!”. Silence was his only answer. He made his way further into the home, towards the bedroom, in silence as if he were but a ghost in the memory of his old home. There upon the bed was his mother’s still form, she had passed, and the agony and terror etched on her pallid face bore testimony to the nature of her end.
If only he had gotten the jewelry, if only he had done something earlier… A steely resolve settled over his diminutive form. No more, NO MORE, he vowed.
And thus was born The Black Hand.
Draz of Dankwood
Clan of the Orange Hand
Child of a goblin mother and orc father, Draz hails from a dismal swamp in Darkon known as the dankwood. A member of a ragtag group of goblins and orcs called “the clan of the orange hand”, responsible for brutal raids on human settlements in that area, he never ventured far from the Dankwood. But after the warriors of the realm descended on the Dankwood, and brought a rain of blood and fire, Draz and his clan mates are on the move! Rumor is there headed for the civilized parts of Darkon… rumor is they’ve got the name of a particular Noble on there lips and rumor is there not leaving without his head!
]]>The Queen of the Goblins!
Sadly her reign, like her horns, was cut short..
Sadly her reign, like her horns, was cut short..“Long long ago in yesterday, I faced many pink skins. It was a much epic tale. They came at me from the left. Then they came at me from du’uther left. There were 2, and 2, and 2 more, and . . . 1. Chibs beyond count! One biggun took my horn with a ghaal blow! It ouched my helmet. But then Napalm Nix threw a big badda BOOM stick and the pinkies go kablooey! All sticky tasties and wobbly bits. Bargrivyek give us big smiles that day. . . What was that? . . I DIED? . . This story terrible.”
]]>Deadsmell sits at the edge of the fire light, his eyes glistening with fervor and madness. His presence is somewhat surprising, as he is not fond of revelry. Before him is a drum, which he begins to beat without a discernible rhythm. With his offhand he casts some type of powder into the fire, which strangely subdues the light, almost as if it casts a darkness, greater than the surrounding night, and the story begins..
“On a night like this, where the blighted moon hides its vile face, we remember and sanctify the purity of nothing. We feel the ancient call to bring about the undoing, to push back the cancer that is light and life. We tell the story of corrupt majesty that is the Faceless Lord.”
Slowly the erratic drum beat intensifies.
“Long before the dawn of man, before the coming of days, before the ancient ones poisoned the purity of the Abyss with their foul presence. Before they plucked mortals from their realms and birthed the ancient demon race, Tanar’ri. Before they sundered the purity of night, there was He Who Slithers, the Unnamable One, Glistener, the Indescribable Darkness. The Faceless Lord alone knows the true purpose of the Abyss.”
“Even now in the gloom that enshrouds his realm, he holds court over the glistening masses, the twitching oozes he sires. He has never emerged from the Slime Pits of Shedaklah to wage war against his enemies, and has, to all outward appearances, remained content to fester in his own filthy domain.”
“But that is not the truth, all of existence is anathema to the Faceless Lord and all will be brought to nothing. All morals, all truths, all philosophical mutterings are but flotsam on the cancer that is life. Let go and find the freedom that is the ultimate truth, know his name, Juiblex, and understand the nothing.”
As the last words are uttered, the fire dies and the camp is flooded in contrast by the light of the stars. The absence of the drum forms a deafening silence, and only the matted grass bears evidence that Deadsmell sat before you.
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My real name is Lady Eona Erlingdottir, I’m the daughter of a Jarl. Not too long ago I led a boring life of a proper noble lady. I was kidnapped by a group calling themselves The Order of the Black Hand for ransom. I must thank them actually, I found I much prefer the life of a rogue, I find great delight in sowing chaos…
I awoke with a start, I could vaguely remember the dark hooded figure who had been haunting my dreams this night. The only thing I could remember him saying was “Bring me souls”.
As I sat up, I noticed a dull glow beside my bow, it was a dagger like none I’ve seen before. The dagger was quite beautiful, well made, with arcane symbols on a blade that glowed a dull green. I put the dagger in my belt and prepared for the day to come. I applied some sap, from a plant I know, to my arrow heads, my prey can’t run if they can’t move. I found the scroll I had been hoarding, loot from a mage I had robbed a few days ago. I read it aloud, carefully pronouncing the strange words, as I spoke the last line, my skin started toughening. My skin was as hard as steel but still supple and soft.
I began my day wondering through the forest scouting around for small groups I could handle or intimidate on my own. I came across a small band of Orks with a human examining some type of box in a small clearing. I snuck up within easy bow shot but stayed my hand, I wished to play. I purposely stepped on a twig then froze with my bow at the ready. The human looked up and I could see that she saw something, she approached a few feet and called out “friend or foe?”. Silly girl, if I was a friend would I be stalking them? If a foe would I answer truthfully? I remained still and silent as a specter. She advanced a few more feet, and again “friend or foe?”, silence. I could smell her fear, and see the agitation of the Orks, I smiled to myself and waited. All at once the human sprang away from me like a hare with a wolf nipping its tail, and the Orks fell in behind her, disappearing into the brush. It didn’t matter, I already had their scent. I slowly tracked them across an old road and into the brush on the other side. I found them around another strange box, two Orks kneeling, three standing between us and the human to the side. This time I acted quickly, three quick shots netted me three paralyzed Orks. The mage and an Ork ran for their lives, I lost track of the other Ork. I examined my helpless prey, something brought forth my memory of the hooded figure. I drew the dagger from my belt, it felt right in my hand. I stabbed the first Ork and felt an energy pass into the dagger, a pulsing jewel fell from the blade, somehow I knew this was the Orks soul. I heard a horn blow a few yards away, damn it was the Ork that I lost track of. I quickly stabbed the other two and collected their souls. I turned to escape but was too late, there were nearly a dozen Ork warriors running at me. I put my weapons away and cried “Hold I wish to talk”. The leader came forward, keeping his sword between us. I held out my hand showing him the pulsing gems, I said “These are the souls of your boyz” he looked at them “I wish to trade for safe passage”. I could see him pondering my words carefully for a moment, then he said “Keep em, I’ll let you go for the shiny dagger”. Somehow I felt the dagger agreed to this exchange. I handed the dagger over to the Ork Boss and began my escape before he could change his mind.
I moved to another area of the forest in search of more prey. I came across a small group of humans playing with some kind of explosive. They were dressed in black and green with a star on their surcoats, something told me that while they appeared less imposing than the Orks that they may be more dangerous. While I was assessing the best targets, another bandit joined me. We were discussing the chances of success when two of them charged us. We split into opposite directions and attempted to escape, I ended up running near a bystander who attempted to hit me with a sword. Luckily I was still protected by the spell that made my skin tough. After I lost them I circled back in the shadows to watch the group. Another larger party approached looked as if they wished to speak to the group in black and green. Once closer the larger group attacked without warning, the first group didn’t have a chance. I felt this part of the forest was getting quite dangerous and went searching for the other bandit, I’ll call her Red. Red looked the typical part, a thread bare bandit skulking through the forest, only I knew she was actually the Bandit King.
I found her on a path near town charging, anyone who passed, a toll to pass in peace. We were talking about the strange boxes and altars that had appeared in the area. It seems there was some contest of gods going on, we decided the gods were more annoyance than anything. We care for gold, we trade on information and intrigue, we take no side with this contest. We decided to increase our profits we needed to expand our network a bit, this contest could prove lucrative.
We stopped the next person who was passing through, a beautiful young woman, instead of demanding a toll we offered to hire her. I made her an offer, swear fealty to the bandit king, she would be paid and go on her way, but would report back with any information she may come across. She thought it over for a few minutes then agreed, she knelt and swore to follow ,the Bandit King, then went on her way with some extra gold in her purse. We were now three, but I wanted more, many more…
I found myself wandering near a place of the gods, a crossover point to the other side. I ran across the group in black and green who had been massacred earlier. They were confused and disoriented, it seems they didn’t remember dying, just being brought back. I promised them some free information if they would consider a request, they agreed. I explained what I had seen from the shadows, and described the party that attacked them. I then offered them the opportunity to join with the bandit king. They declined my offer, but we came to an agreement that we would not prey on each other for the near future and went our separate ways. While wondering near that hellish area I came across the hooded figure from my dreams. I was curious but did not approach. He seemed to see me but spoke no word. He held out his cloaked hand and another glowing dagger appeared, he place the dagger on a stump, turned and floated away. I of course picked up the dagger, smiling and put it in my belt.
I wondered back near town and met up with a small group of peasants dressed in black and orange. They appeared to be quite angry about something. I approached them hoping to add to our recruits. It turned out they were a bunch of do gooders who frowned on banditry and chaos in general. They were however seeking some items they wanted for the silly god thing that seemed to be everywhere. Ah I thought, gold could be had, I asked what they were looking for. Some rings of power, daggers that could take a mans soul, and souls themselves, I smiled. Just to appear interested and friendly I asked what the items were for. After some long story I barely paid attention too, they told me the wished to find a way to destroy the daggers and release the souls. This sounded like it would be great fun to watch play out, so I began negotiating for a dagger and two souls. During our talk a small party approached and called out, “bandit we seek information”. They presented me with a wanted poster and asked for help in finding the lost lady. I had a very hard time keeping a straight face, there on the wanted poster were images and a description of me…
I told them I was sure I could help them in their search, but I would need some time, I told them to meet me in a secluded place at a later time. Easy pickings, I was thinking.
I returned to my negotiations, I traded the dagger and souls for a rather large sum of gold, and a promise to let the bandits be in the future. I hid away the gold and went searching for Red to share out our new found fortune. Red and I split the gold and rounded up a few more single conscripts who were traveling alone. I headed towards town and again ran into the group wearing green and black. I noticed they had a new leader and cautiously approached him. I spoke to him about joining forces with the Bandit King, I offered gold now that I had plenty, he seemed interested. He finally said he had a great desire to posses one of the magic daggers that steal souls, he also seemed interested in spreading chaos just for the fun of it. My kind of people. I explained that I had held two already this day and if he joined us we would hunt another. He agreed, I summoned Red and the entire party swore fealty to her. I was speaking to one of them away from the group when a lone man approached. He began asking her about a wanted lady and showed her a wanted poster, while glancing at me. She saw my image and leaned in to speak to him, he didn’t notice the dagger in her hand. With a wicked gleam in her eye, she lunged unexpectedly but unfortunately his armor turned the blade and he ran for his life….
I knew he got a good look at me and made the connection before he fled.
I rejoined the rest of the party in green and black, I threw a couple of handfuls of gold to them and said “I am hunting a man, join me! Lets creat some havoc!”. I began sprinting towards the forest where I saw the man disappear, the group following.
A short distance down the trail, we came across a large group of people, heavily armored, standing around the body of the leader of the peasants. I negotiated safe passage, barely, and asked if his body was for sale. They sent us on our way empty handed, but I saw what I was looking for, a magic dagger. Even with the group I had hired I knew we were too few to prevail, so we continued down the trail hunting the man who was hunting me. We ran right into a large group of Orks and both stopped short, I yelled to the leader that I wished to talk. We met halfway between the opposing groups with weapons at the ready. I said “We don’t wish to fight you, I am hunting someone else. But how would you like to fight a real battle?”. I could see the WarBoss thinking, he said “fightins good, we likes fightin.”. I said “join us and I promise you and your boyz a fun fight.”. He had a big grin on his face and turned to his pack of Orks and said “wez going with them to a fight.”.
I explained my plan briefly with the leader of the black and green, then pointed down the path where we came from and told the WarBoss we’re going to fight them right around that corner. He yelled to his boyz to charge and charged down the path, we waited a few seconds then followed behind. I planned to let the Orks charge in and soften them up a bit, drawing any mage fire, then we would come in a second wave and clean up. Well not all plans come together as desired. We came in a few seconds behind the Orks, and found the last couple being cut down.
There was a completely different party there at the crossroads, a larger more heavily armed party. They called out that they had to wish to fight us but would defend themselves. I stopped our attack but held weapons at the ready, and replied “you’re not our target, we were after the group that was just here. But you killed my Orks”. They responded “well they attacked us, if course we killed them.”, I asked if there was a priest among them. They said yes they had priests, I asked them to raise my Orks so that I could continue my hunt. They said “no we’re not raising them they attacked us.”, I responded “there just Orks, they didn’t know any better, but I need them, so raise my Orks and we will pass in peace.” Their spokesman had a hard look on his face and again said “no”, I yelled attack and loosed an arrow at him. We did lose that fight but it was worth it….
I heard a rumor of a great battle for one of the rings was about to happen, so Red and I decided to check it out and see what opportunities may arise.
She held back but I was drawn into the battle, it was pure chaos. I was shooting at someone when a hit to the head caused everything to go black, I still had my spell but the hit knocked me out. When I came to, I was tied and I could see Red had been killed, there was a priest saying words over her, and she sat up alive.
It was a small group who had captured us dressed in grays. They were civil and polite, but no amount of pleading, threatening, or offer of bribes stopped them from turning us in for the rewards. I was being taken home by a guardsman who underestimated my desire for freedom, I left his body by the roadside and made my escape.
One of my informants caught up with me having news of one of the magic daggers, it seems the leader of the Orks had one. I was low on gold and had no large force at the ready but I still had my wits. I scouted out their camp, and asked to be taken to their Boss. He was a bit leery of talking with me, of course at our last meeting I cause their massacre. I confirmed that he had a magic dagger and told him I wanted to trade. Of course I didn’t have much gold left but I was sure I could think of something. I remembered some odd bit of lore I had heard about Orks coveting teeth and an idea hit me. I said to the WarBoss “it’s like this, you have two options. I have a handful of these rare teeth, from a giant ocean fish called a shark”, I had robbed a merchant who was carrying them, “or I can raise a small army, kill you all and just take the dagger.”. I could see the confusion on his face. Finally he says “fightin is good, but teeth is better. I’ll take teeth, you take dagger”, I agreed and we traded. As I was leaving the camp I heard him say “boyz come look at these teeth we got”.
I met up with the leader of the group in black and green, and gave him the dagger to complete our deal. He told me that they were on their way to a battle for the last ring and asked me to fight with them. I joined in their party and we headed to the field where the battle was to occur.
There were two sides facing across a small field as we joined the battle began. I noticed in the ranks opposing us that there was a large man holding a huge boulder over his head. I didn’t know how he could possibly even pick it up, but there was no time to think about it. I took careful aim with my bow, let loose, and my arrow hit his chest dead center. He fell instantly, dropping the giant boulder, amazingly killing a half dozen people who were too close to him. I think that is a personal best, killing seven people with one arrow.
After the battle I felt I had had enough for one day and taking the last of my stolen gold, headed to the tavern to have some cider and relax…
Arrival.
My brothers and sisters had done well the previous weeks, winning two of the four competitions given to the realm by the Gods of the Aesir and their Giant opponent, Thrym. The competitions it seemed were used to sort out who amongst the nations was strong enough to gain the gaze and help of the two sides. It seems to me, as the sunset with the arrival of my caravan to the designated campaign lands, that Odin had once again smiled on my Felgardian brothers and sisters.
Once many many moons ago, Odin had smiled on the lands of Asaheim, as we toiled beneath a blanket of constant fog to grow our crops to feed our people, Odin gave us back the sun. A sunrise, to many that saw it, seemed like the eye of the All-Father gazing on the lands and finding our people worthy of the survival we had fought so hard for, for those long centuries, but that is a story to let the historians tell.
The Black Raven, Jarl Wulfvin Sturmbjorne, always traveled with a long train of Caravans behind him. Everything the Jarl needed was within grasp; Ravens to send the messages needed, mead to fill his nights, food to fill his plates and train upon train of weapons for his brothers and sisters to use.
This time, the weapons trains carried something beyond worth to the Jarl. Long had he toiled in the forges and temples of Tyr to create his most holy possession, Spiderbane. Spiderbane was the Jarl’s holy great-axe, blessed by Tyr to destroy all the evil in the realm under its massive blade. Spiderbane had gotten it’s name when the Felgardians were camping in an unknown lands and the ground around them erupted with giant eight-legged beasts the size of a direwolf. It was with fire and blade of this axe that the Felgardians destroyed their foe, earning the axe great favor with the Jarl.
When the Jarl arrived, he noted the tent of his Ronin brother, Vyr the Shadowwolf, but could not find him.
Having unpacked his caravans, he was approached by a messenger in black and red. His skin was like the scales of a lizard, where the scales met what could only be described as skin, it was twisted blistered and bleeding.
“Contract. Gold. Yes.” the haggard lizard being croaked out from a voice that seemed to be as dry as desert sand.
“You wish to hire me?” Wulfvin asked inquisitively
“Good. Follow.” the lizard turned and walked away without waiting for Jarl Wulfvin to speak or take a step.
Wulfvin followed the lizard creature up the hill to his camp. A steady wind had carried the smell of death from the lizard into Wulfvin’s nostrils. The lizard man smelled of death, not fresh death but weeks of decay, wet, swampy decay and blood.
The camp was one that Wulfvin should’ve expected. having had some dealings with the beings of Ched Nasad, he should have expected the massive effigies to their demon gods, the rotting corpses nailed to the walls of their rag-tag disorder of a camp, the ever-burning fires and the images reflected in the fire by the taints of foul magics.
Next to the fire the lizard man stopped, pointed and ran off to throw himself in his seat; a pile of fish heads and bones. At least that explained the smell.
The creatures that the lizard had pointed to Jarl Wulfvin had some contact with in the past. A Tall demon-man named Father Caedes, and his son in dented and bloodied plate, Game awaited the Jarl.
“Greetings Caedes” nodding, “Game. What can I do for you”
Caedes, contempt always in the pits of his eyes spoke first. “We need the strength of Felgard. Tonight, and in the games.”
“Why does the mighty Ched Nasad need the help of my group of mercenaries? Do you not have the strength of your gods?” Wulfvin asked
“We always have the strength of the gods”, Caedes began grinding his teeth, handing reaching to his waist.”We ask for the help of Felgard because many of our more bloodied commanders are elsewhere, and many must leave this night to deal with things… that are none of your concern. My son here will be in charge of this battalion of hordelings.”
“Then you are leaving?” Wulfvin asked, knowing that Caedes would not relinquish command without its necessity
“Yes.” Caedes said curtly
“What price do you offer?” Wulfvin asked
“We will pay you the same we paid when we had you fight for the Drow, against the Northern men.” Caedes said, without a hint of the possibility of negotiations.
“That is quite a sum. If I remember correctly, you jumped the asking price to ensure your victory in securing our contract during this war. We have a map. It arrived a few minutes before your messenger. How much for that?” Wulfvin spoke calmly, knowing that one does not kill a man during contract negotiations.
“You have too many questions. We will give you 200 gold for the map and the price of your men will be the same as last time. No different.” Caedes’ already red face began to grow darker with anger.
“Very well. you have a contract” Wulfvin reached out with his hand. The two shook hands, binding them both to a Felgardian Contract of Arms. Bound by honor, Released in death.
“Keltor!!! Take this human back to where you found him. We will summon you again when the time to decipher the map is here. And don’t worry viking, Ched Nasad will get you your gold.” Caedes bellowed.
Jarl Wulfvin nodded to Game, whom had remained silent during the exchange, allowing Caedes to do the negotiations.
Some time later, the rest of his brothers and sisters arrived, this time on the backs of the trained dragons of the Laga Dreki. The Fadir Dreki, Vekin Wyvernkin, liked to show how wrong he had proved the Jarl to be when he opposed the raising of the dragons within the walls of Felgard.
“Greetings brothers and sisters. Set up your tents, we must speak. We are fighting for the Chaos men of Ched Nasad. They are paying us extremely well.” the Jarl said, stern but not a command.
The three arriving on the dragons, Vekin Wyvernkin, Thora Firemane and Zinc the untested, nodded and began the work of unpacking their dragons, whom often liked to walk away while being unburdened.
Throughout the night, more and more Felgardians arrived. Some had been stuck in the mud on the slopes of the Felgardian Mountains, others finishing other tasks and works before coming to the games. The Might of Felgard was in full bloom on the day of the games.
The Games begin
With the rise of the sun, Jarl Wulfvin gazed upon all that come to these games. It seemed that every nation of Darkon had come to these lands in force. Every camp buzzed with activity. The camp cooks working to feed the armies arrayed, the laborers gathering wood, water, staking more and more fortifications into the ground to give their armies an edge, blacksmiths sharpening the edges of blades large and small, squires and pages arming up their charges.
Today would be a day of a great many deaths, and if the Felgardians had anything to say about it, it would at the end of their blades.
The demon-cleric Game approached Jarl Wulfvin as he was breaking his fast.
“I want you to take the Bloody Axe druid” pointing to another creature that Wulfvin was fairly used to seeing, a gator-man “ And any of your men you need, And go find this Naked Druid. Get any information from him you can, then kill him.”
“And where will the remainder of your army be?” Wulfvin asked, always wanting more information. Wulfvin had only reached his current position of power by making wise decisions based on solid information and planning. He did not like to go anywhere without a plan.
“We’re going to scout the other paths in this land and find us some rings.” Game began to laugh. It was a deep, guttural sound, flecked with a voice and in tones that did not belong to Game.
Gathering his men, all arrayed and ready in their complete sets of armor, Wulfvin set down the Straight Road to find the Naked Druid.
Wulfvin encountered one of his people, a Viking.
“Greetings brother, join us!” Wulfvin proclaimed
“I cannot. I seek something here, and cannot aid any who do not aid me.” the viking proclaimed.
“What do you seek? How can we help?” Wulfvin asked.
“I wish to finally go to Valhalla. And I have been told that I need a ring to get there.” the viking said, sadness in his voice.
“The only way I know to get into Odin’s Hall is to die with your weapon in your hand. Believe me when I say that I have tried. The Gods do not find me worthy and I am brought back into existence over and over again, no matter how many fall to my blade before I succumb to the wounds” Wulfvin said, eyes showing the disappointment of not being able to join his ancestors.
“Find me a way to get a ring, and the soul to destroy it, and I will save you a spot at the tables of Valhalla.” the viking said
“You have my word, that If I find a ring and a way to get you a soul, you shall have it.” Wulfvin reached out and shook the vikings hand and bid farewell.
Shortly after leaving the roaming viking behind, the group found a seer of sorts that offered to read their fortunes.
“Only the leader of this party may approach.” The seeress said, soothingly.
“That is me. Cast your bones” Wulfvin commanded, always suspicious of those whom claim to speak for the gods.
The Seeress reached into her bag of bones, and scattered a handful into a circle of salt.
The Seeress’ eyes darted back and forth from bone to bone, a smile slowly making it’s way upon her face.
“The Gods have two things to tell you, Jarl Wulfvin.”
Wulfvin took a step back at that, for he had not introduced himself, hesitantly placing his hand on his dagger at his hip.
The Seeress ignored Wulfvin’s hesitation and continued “The Gods will be watching you this day. Trust none but yourself in the tasks ahead” with that the Seeress faded out of view, as if shrouded by a fog.
Jarl Wulfvin’s companions considered the words of the Seeress and moved on, puzzled.
Little resistance was found on this road to the Naked Druid. Jarl Wulfvin and his men never reached the Naked Druid, turning onto a path that they were convinced would lead them to their target, but never did. Instead they trudged through the woods, only to find a small puzzle box that seemed to be impenetrable and large chest.
Their allies, through the coin of Ched Nasad, The Bloody Axe Mercenary Company joined them then.
The thieves and mages of the party worked in perfect unison in attempting to open the box. Using the tools of the Laga Dreki, the tools used to examine the corpses of strange creatures across the realm to learn more about them, the Chest was opened to reveal another chest, only to have that chest opened and find a third chest.
In frustration the party considered their options.
“The Emperor, he has the key. We must find him.” Joshua said, in a strange accent full of slurs and long pauses.
“Where is he?” someone from the group voiced
“He was going that way!” Joshua pointed. As they began to walk in the designated direction, we heard a conflict and began to run. By the time Wulfvin arrived, the Emperor was dead, his pockets emptied and his combatants had escaped.
Wandering, lost in the woods, the gator-man of Bloody Axe began to speak to the trees, finding hidden chest and puzzle boxes, all of which had already been emptied. We were too late. The games had begun and we were behind the curve.
And so began the day of wandering, unable to find any of the rings.
My companions found a graveyard and began to look for important things within.
Great Wolf Gor, arrayed in his rusted chainmail, hiding his disdain for working with the demon-men behind his mask of leather, wielding his worn, chipped and proven greatsword began to wander.
Jarl Wulfvin followed, not allowing any of his brothers to wander in these lands alone.
Some of the mercenaries of the Bloody Axe followed suit, leaving a few of the thieves and mages to decipher the runes of the graveyard.
Joshua pointed the way that Gor was traveling “Look, there is the Northern Kingdoms. That is Caetrel. We should kill him.”
“Baron Caetrel.” Wulfvin said sternly, looking in the direction of the Baron.
Baron Caetrel waved Jarl Wulfvin over to parlay.
“Sir Wulfvin, we must speak. I mean you no harm.” Baron Caetrel said, showing his empty hands and began speaking again, knowing that Wulfvin was an honorable man and would not attack without provocation. “We need safe passage. We have something that you can appreciate in its destruction.”
“And what might that be, Baron.” Wulfvin said, nodding to Lord Thorson, whom stood next to the Baron.
Grabbing a piece of parchment out of his pocket, the Baron began to read. “This is a way to kill the God Thor. For Good. And we don’t want that.”
“Agreed. You may have passage.” Wulfvin said.
“Make sure the Bloody Axe does not attack us, they don’t like me.” Caetrel said, hesitantly.
A shining man, garbed in the most perfect of whites, standing easily a head above everyone around him came up behind us just then.
“Hail. I am Eban! How goes your quest?” Eban asked, slightly jolly, but full of only barely contained rage.
“You must destroy this, now Thor!” Baron Caetrel said to Eban.
“Quite. Do not speak my true name. For I have enemies here!” Eban’s rage boiling over into a clenched fist, taking the parchment with the other hand. “Take this as gratitude. You might need it”
Eban began to draw out a glowing dagger with golden runes in its blade.
“No, I must not. I promised this to another. You will have your reward later.” Eban said, withdrawing his gift and retreating into the woods. Baron Caetrel and Lord Thorson made their exit at the same time, not wanting to be attacked by the Bloody Axe Mercenaries.
As the part began to regroup at the Jarl’s position, they were joined a few of the demon-men of Ched Nasad.
It was then that they saw the wall. A wall of purple and black.
“Exsilium comes.” Wulfvin said, readying his blades.
It was then that the small contingent of Ched Nasad moved forward, shouting profanities at the enemy and charging.
Jarl Wulfvin watched from afar as he saw the rag-tag group of hordelings get swallowed whole by the legion of plate wearing men.
“That was not wise. Thora, Valkyrie. Take the information and items you have found and get lost in the woods. We will stay here and slow them down. Let none have the information we have gathered here.” Wulfvin commanded, and the sisters of Asaheim departed swiftly, taking some of the Bloody Axe Mercenaries with them.
“Vekin. We need fire. Prepare to burn them to the ground.” Wulfvin commanded again, this was where Wulfvin truly felt alive, commanding his brothers and sisters to victory, preparing for the coming conflicts.
Looking at the battle that had been waged, it looked that the hordelings poorly executed charge had done some damage. The legion had stopped and began to heal its wounded.
It was as he observed the legion healing that Jarl Wulfvin noted the line of the experienced members of Ched Nasad assaulting the back of the Legion.
“Reinforcements. We must go help them now! Vekin, get rid of that fireball. Let the Gods know we are here, burn these woods to the ground!” Wulfvin shouted as he began his run to aide the true force of Ched Nasad.
There were few of the Exislium line still standing when the Felgardians arrived, just the bleeding, gutted and dead.
Sometime later, after wandering the straight road looking for rings, the Felgardians decided to examine some of the other locations marked and deciphered from their prized map.
The cave of Osaar was empty, save for pieces of armor, the bones of the dead and a large mound of rotting flesh that was most definitely Osaar himself.
While leaving the cave of Osaar, the Jarl and his companions ran into their old friend Eban.
“Greetings Thor… I mean Eben.” Wulfvin said, smiling only to be greeted by the barely-contained rage of the Thunder God.
“We have come to find rings, and have yet to see a one.” Wulfvin said.
“The Dwarf has two. He just needs to the souls to destroy them. Do not trust him though. He is a liar. Make sure you watch his destroy the ring.”
“Thank you friend.” Wulfvin said as he began the long climb to the cave of the Dwarf.
Valkyrie, whom had always been better at persuading people than Jarl Wulfvin, walked up to the Cave and spoke to the dwarf, weapon left at the mouth of the cave. This was a violation of one of the tenants of Felgardian law. All Felgardians must be armed or within reach of their weapon; always.
She returned and updated the companions. The dwarf did not have a ring like Eban had said, but had two of the daggers that would steal a soul from the dead.
Wulfvin handed over what wealth he had brought and found on this voyage and Valkyrie returned with a dagger.
“Let us collect souls” Wulfvin said, handingly the dagger with careful precision.
Making their way back to the encampment of Ched Nasad, the Jarl saw the men and women of the League of Angry Peasants charge a line of Chosen Blood and Waagh!, only to be surrounded quickly.
“Valkyrie, take the dagger to Ched Nasad and wait.” Wulfvin commanded as he began to run to the aide of the peasants.
Two of his foes died quickly before his sword. The last thing Wulfvin saw was a flash of searing flames as he charged a foe, then blackness.
Jarl Wulfvin awoke again in his camp, surrounded by his brothers and sisters.
“I take it we did not win that battle then…” Wulfvin said, disappointed.
“No. They had reinforcements lying in wait. There was nothing to do but kill and die.” Gor said, somewhat pleased.
“Let us find us some souls then.” Wulfvin said, as he got up, grabbed his weapons once again and started down the roads to where the armies were fighting.
The first soul was easy enough to get. Wulfvin ran into his Viking friend from earlier in the day, whom was being led by the Seeress and Eban back to the dwarf. The Seeress claimed to have a ring to get the Viking into Valhalla.
Wulfvin could see through the lies of this Seeress, and when they paused, Wulfvin drew the dagger and placed the tip in between her ribs swiftly and quietly, feeling a pulse of raw energy and life force fill his hands and the blade of the dagger.
Waving to Thora, Wulfvin had the body looted before her companions knew what had happened. Nothing.
“Your Seer has lied. She has no ring.” Wulfvin said
“What have you done? You have ruined it!!!” the viking shouted!
“I have done no such thing, I am getting a soul to be used to get you a ring, friend. This Seer has lied from the very first words. None speak to the gods the way she does. There is no ring on her. Check for yourself.” Wulfvin said, turned and walked away.
Only the Jarl’s companions followed, the Viking seemed to realize the truth behind his words.
The Felgardians made their way to the shrine of death they saw earlier in the day. It was there, that Valkyrie cleansed the blade to make use of it again.
As they made to leave the shrine, the Felgardians ran into two men carrying a third; Davey, a peasant. Davey was writhing in agony, begging for release from this pain.
Jarl Wulfvin looked around his men, knowing each of them and the abilities the gods had given them. He shook his head.
Davey lay twitching and screaming on the ground. Wulfvin took the dagger from Valkyrie’s hands, knelt down next to Davey and said “This is all I can do for you.” With that, Jarl Wulfvin thrust the dagger into Davey’s stomach, blood boiling over the hilt of the blade, his body shuddered and his eyes went blank. “Be at peace.” Wulfvin said, wiping the blade on his leg.
“Valkyrie, cleanse the blade and we must leave.” Wulfvin commanded, gathering his weapons.
“ORCS!” Vekin shouted from behind him.
Wulfvin turned to see a group of slavering, feral orcs charging his way.
“Stand firm, they are orcs. Slaughter them as they approach” Wulfvin said calmly.
