Long have the kingdoms of men fought each other for irrelevant reasons tearing at each others throats. In there corrupt nature they desire power and wealth. The only races in this world that was worse then the humans was the orcs and goblins and other twisted creatures. Twisted by the same dark powers that had twisted him. However they could be tamed and put to good use while most humans lacked the foresight and true knowledge to join him, or they would. It was hard to explain but he could see their reaction.
He had roamed the lands for many years and yet he had never approached any of the others. No need to reveal himself yet. After all he only wanted to gather information and that is what he had done. The dwarves dwelled in their mountain kingdom far to the north. They horded gold and crafted superior armor and swords, the only race that could forge anything superior to the dwarves was the Elves.
Ah yes the Elves, they loved nature and relished it, he hated them the most, for they were fair and wonderfully blessed. He knew he would not be able to confront them directly, not for a long while anyhow, but he could wait. He knew what his first steps must be. Soon his tower would be re-built and never again would he be diminished. A thought arose in his vile mind, a name? Yes a name. Matum….
In the blue ridges that set in the west of the realm of Norelena a giant troll lumbered. It had been long since a troll had been spotted in these regions for the elves kept there boarders secure. However he was there and he walked upon the gray rocks of the mountain. He was an ugly beast. He had no armor but he did have a large hammer of an extremely primitive design. In the hand opposite of the one with the hammer he held a sheep. Raid stained its otherwise white fleece, small pieces of flesh hanging out of his mouth. He groaned and threw the dead animal aside.
An arrow darted from a bush and hit him square in the head. He rushed to the bush as an elf popped out of it bow in hand. He ran into a miniaturized valley and the witless troll followed him. When he was surrounded on both sides by high rocky ledges he stopped with the semblance of knowing his own doom. Four more Arrows flew down from various locations on the ledges. And another elf jumped down from in front of the troll with his bow drawn. He had Two Arrows loaded upon it and waited for the Troll to Raise his head and roar in Fury, that is when he let loose driving the arrows up the trolls weak and unprotected throat and all the way into its small brain. He looked at the creature and discarded its miserable corps.
The Elf walked over to his fellow who had led the troll into the ambush. “This does not bode well Corspar. I can remember when all evil things would never even dream of wandering into our land.” He shook his head. “We must report to Lord Elric.”
Corspar stared at the horizon. “I fear that this beast may be a prelude to horrible things yet to come upon our fair lands.”
“You fear the worse, do you forgot that Trolls once thrived on this very mountaintop?” He shook his head. “We will have to see that another beast like this is never allowed to roam inside of our realm for so long unchecked.”
“As you say Angrod, We must report to our respective Lords and seek out the cause of this incursion.”
Diplomacy and Aggressions
Moderators: VagueDurin, Nichalus
Diplomacy and Aggressions
Domani, forget domani
Let's live for now and anyhow who needs domani?
~ Frank Sinatra, Forget Domani
Let's live for now and anyhow who needs domani?
~ Frank Sinatra, Forget Domani
Although the leaves fell over three hundred years ago, the graceful footsteps of the elven queen did not make them crack. Nor did her dark purple gown cause them to ruffle. Instead, the only sound from the only elf was that of silence. Surrounding the natural path she traveled, the great willow trees hummed a soothing song, their tendril branches swaying harmoniously in the calm breeze.
Fog surrounded the lone wanderer, so thick that the clear afternoon sky and the rays of sunshine were filtered out. While most needed a lantern, she required no guide. Closing her eyes, the beautiful women continued to walk, until when, she felt it, she stopped. Not even an inch in front of her were the grey waters of Alu Basan; her lake of sorrow.
Using both hands, she lifted the hood and rested it upon her cape, revealing her hair of midnight blue. Complimenting her dark blue eyes, it was a face of beauty, and yet of sadness. Slowly kneeling upon the moist beach, she looked intensely at her gloomy reflection. It was not an odd ceremony she was performing. She used it as a way to combat the grief of her lose. Grief, one of the only ways an elf could die, was not going to take her like it took her sister. She was not going to allow it.
Closing her eyes, she extended her arm out and with the slightest touch, she broke the serenity of the water. Images began to run past her in her mind. Bursts of energy exploded within herself, her mind begin flooded with pictures of the past.
She saw her sister, the most fairest elf that ever lived. As fast as the image appeared, another took its place, that of Man. Barbarians, she thought to herself. The race of greed and lust. More images passed her. She saw her sister lying on a bed of death, all of nature dying in the background. Slowing the picture down, she entered her own mind’s illusion.
The trees were all gray; all there leaves fallen on the ground. The grape vines that ran atop the ceiling were all shriveled. She looked through the archway, revealing her sister, sleeping. Her sister’s hair was as bright as the sun, her lips as red as a rose and her face the fairest of them all. Thorns cushioned her body, and her head rested upon dead flowers. The elf with midnight hair walked up to the sleeping beauty and ran her finger through her hair and stroked her forehead. She felt much comfort at seeing her sister.
The image soon quickened however. Suddenly, the sleeping beauty awoke, her eyes opening revealing a fiery chaos. She spoke! “ALATARIEL!”
The elven queen quickly pulled back from the water, so much that is caused a splash. She had broken her contact. Laying on the gray sand for a moment, she regained herself. What is it, sister?
Fog surrounded the lone wanderer, so thick that the clear afternoon sky and the rays of sunshine were filtered out. While most needed a lantern, she required no guide. Closing her eyes, the beautiful women continued to walk, until when, she felt it, she stopped. Not even an inch in front of her were the grey waters of Alu Basan; her lake of sorrow.
Using both hands, she lifted the hood and rested it upon her cape, revealing her hair of midnight blue. Complimenting her dark blue eyes, it was a face of beauty, and yet of sadness. Slowly kneeling upon the moist beach, she looked intensely at her gloomy reflection. It was not an odd ceremony she was performing. She used it as a way to combat the grief of her lose. Grief, one of the only ways an elf could die, was not going to take her like it took her sister. She was not going to allow it.
Closing her eyes, she extended her arm out and with the slightest touch, she broke the serenity of the water. Images began to run past her in her mind. Bursts of energy exploded within herself, her mind begin flooded with pictures of the past.
She saw her sister, the most fairest elf that ever lived. As fast as the image appeared, another took its place, that of Man. Barbarians, she thought to herself. The race of greed and lust. More images passed her. She saw her sister lying on a bed of death, all of nature dying in the background. Slowing the picture down, she entered her own mind’s illusion.
The trees were all gray; all there leaves fallen on the ground. The grape vines that ran atop the ceiling were all shriveled. She looked through the archway, revealing her sister, sleeping. Her sister’s hair was as bright as the sun, her lips as red as a rose and her face the fairest of them all. Thorns cushioned her body, and her head rested upon dead flowers. The elf with midnight hair walked up to the sleeping beauty and ran her finger through her hair and stroked her forehead. She felt much comfort at seeing her sister.
The image soon quickened however. Suddenly, the sleeping beauty awoke, her eyes opening revealing a fiery chaos. She spoke! “ALATARIEL!”
The elven queen quickly pulled back from the water, so much that is caused a splash. She had broken her contact. Laying on the gray sand for a moment, she regained herself. What is it, sister?
The Adminerator
Kurgan Blackmane, Rune Lord of Kazad Grim, strode into the throne hall, ignoring the guards at the door. He marched across the room, stopping in front of the throne.
King Dargil Proudbeard, ruler of Kazad Grim, looked at his old friend.
"Welcome, Lord Kurgan."
"No need for the formalities, Dargil" Kurgan said. "I bring dire news."
"You are not the only one, Kurgan." Dargil motioned to a dwarf beside the throne. "Alrik here has just informed me, that Trolls stalk the Thingaz once again."
Kurgan looked at the dwarf.
"Trolls?"
"Aye, trolls Mylord. My men killed one last night, and at least two others were seen by another troupe." Alrik answered. Kurgan turned back to the king.
"That only makes my news more dire. I have just spoken with Wilhelm. The Orcs stir in the west."
"The Orcs are returning to power. That is dire news."
"More dire news have yet to come. I have consulted the runes. Trolls are appearing along the entire Karaz Ankor, even as far down as Norelena. The runes have refused to tell me anything specific, but darkness brews in the realms."
King Dargil starred at Kurgan. The Rune Lord was not one to speak lightly of darkness. Last time, the darkness had almost enveloped the world, before it was defeated.
"What do you suggest we do, Kurgan?"
"I believe it is time to revive the old alliance."
"The Alliance? Then this truly be dire times."
"Indeed."
"Very well. Send Wilhelm to the Bar Khazukan. He knows their language and customs, and will know what to do."
"It is already done, Dargil."
Dargil smiled. As always, Kurgan was one step ahead of him. He was glad that Kurgan was not his enemy.
"Good. Return to your workshops, and order your apprentices to work. We may see battle soon."
Kurgan nodded, and left. Dargil turned to one of his guards and said:
"Call Logan Boranson to me."
******
A black stallion made its way down the narrow path. On its back sat a figure in a grey cloak. In the distance the fortress of Naugrimandon could be seen.
"Steady, Mortion, steady. They will do us no harm." The man said in Elvish. The stallion steadied, and continued on its way, trying to ignore the presence it felt. The elven wardens could not be seen, but Mortion felt them none the less.
The horse and rider soon reached the fortress, and stopped in front of the gate. The man spoke.
"A friend seeks entry." His clear voice rang out against the walls...
King Dargil Proudbeard, ruler of Kazad Grim, looked at his old friend.
"Welcome, Lord Kurgan."
"No need for the formalities, Dargil" Kurgan said. "I bring dire news."
"You are not the only one, Kurgan." Dargil motioned to a dwarf beside the throne. "Alrik here has just informed me, that Trolls stalk the Thingaz once again."
Kurgan looked at the dwarf.
"Trolls?"
"Aye, trolls Mylord. My men killed one last night, and at least two others were seen by another troupe." Alrik answered. Kurgan turned back to the king.
"That only makes my news more dire. I have just spoken with Wilhelm. The Orcs stir in the west."
"The Orcs are returning to power. That is dire news."
"More dire news have yet to come. I have consulted the runes. Trolls are appearing along the entire Karaz Ankor, even as far down as Norelena. The runes have refused to tell me anything specific, but darkness brews in the realms."
King Dargil starred at Kurgan. The Rune Lord was not one to speak lightly of darkness. Last time, the darkness had almost enveloped the world, before it was defeated.
"What do you suggest we do, Kurgan?"
"I believe it is time to revive the old alliance."
"The Alliance? Then this truly be dire times."
"Indeed."
"Very well. Send Wilhelm to the Bar Khazukan. He knows their language and customs, and will know what to do."
"It is already done, Dargil."
Dargil smiled. As always, Kurgan was one step ahead of him. He was glad that Kurgan was not his enemy.
"Good. Return to your workshops, and order your apprentices to work. We may see battle soon."
Kurgan nodded, and left. Dargil turned to one of his guards and said:
"Call Logan Boranson to me."
******
A black stallion made its way down the narrow path. On its back sat a figure in a grey cloak. In the distance the fortress of Naugrimandon could be seen.
"Steady, Mortion, steady. They will do us no harm." The man said in Elvish. The stallion steadied, and continued on its way, trying to ignore the presence it felt. The elven wardens could not be seen, but Mortion felt them none the less.
The horse and rider soon reached the fortress, and stopped in front of the gate. The man spoke.
"A friend seeks entry." His clear voice rang out against the walls...
False Dichotomy
Posts: 4416
Joined: Mon Mar 10, 2003 10:55 am
Joined: Mon Mar 10, 2003 10:55 am
"Where are these rogue trolls coming from?"
The shriek echoed down half a mile of tunnels before coming to a halt. Indicative of patience stretched beyond reason, it had come after the fifth report from the mountain clans in as many weeks.
"O truly tremendous one," replied the envoy of the Rekag clan in substantially lower tones, "there are some signs that-"
"That the Dark Powers may be rising again," cut in Utopak. The chief priest folded his robed arms with great dignity. "We know. The same conjectures have been presented by your four predecessors. That is why the Great One does not wish for conjecture. He wishes for fact."
"No, no..." Oblivious to their stares, Furghyn had gotten up from his throne, and had begun surveying the lines of shields along the far wall. Each was scarred deeply from multiple raids and wars and duels. Each had belonged to a predecessor. Closest to the throne was that of old Oblahag, whom Furghyn had slain less than a decade past. The Great Goblin caressed the gaping rent through the shield, right over where the abdomen would be.
"Five reports is enough, especially from my kin in the mountain clans. If the Powers of Chaos rise, Utopak...we are going to bring chaos in all possible ways. Though we do not have the numbers of old, yet our people are still strong, and our engines are clever. By trickery and stealth, we may easily accomplish that which we could not were we to rely on numbers."
The priest stalked closer, curiosity drawn across his lime-green face. "Great One, from the beginning of your beneficient reign you have stressed the safety of our people from the wrath of Men. If we invite open war, we may be destroyed utterly."
Abruptly, Furghyn laughed, a harsh bark that rang as his earlier shout had done. "We will indeed invite war...but it does not follow that we will fight in it, priest. We shall provoke Man to fight Elf, Dwarf to fight Man, and Elf to fight Dwarf. And it will be simpler than you think..."
He swivelled on the messenger, who cringed. "Are your warriors well-trained?" Furghyn demanded. "Does your clan still remember the glory of battle?"
The younger goblin drew himself up with all of the self-possession of an Elf-lord. "Yes, o truly tremendous one. Our numbers have grown and we have many weapons. The Wargs of the hills are our staunch allies."
Which, Furghyn reflected, was not an answer to his question. Kids these days. "Carry to your chief Marpatisk this message, youngling. Let chaos be unleashed over all that set foot on the earth. Let the sons of the Dark unite. Come wrath, come ruin, and let the red dawn begin.
(OOC/ Yeah, yeah, yeah...get over it
)
Utopak stood poleaxed. Furghyn had just quoted - in context - from the most respected holy book known to Goblin-kind.
He'd suggested that the end of the world was approaching.
The shriek echoed down half a mile of tunnels before coming to a halt. Indicative of patience stretched beyond reason, it had come after the fifth report from the mountain clans in as many weeks.
"O truly tremendous one," replied the envoy of the Rekag clan in substantially lower tones, "there are some signs that-"
"That the Dark Powers may be rising again," cut in Utopak. The chief priest folded his robed arms with great dignity. "We know. The same conjectures have been presented by your four predecessors. That is why the Great One does not wish for conjecture. He wishes for fact."
"No, no..." Oblivious to their stares, Furghyn had gotten up from his throne, and had begun surveying the lines of shields along the far wall. Each was scarred deeply from multiple raids and wars and duels. Each had belonged to a predecessor. Closest to the throne was that of old Oblahag, whom Furghyn had slain less than a decade past. The Great Goblin caressed the gaping rent through the shield, right over where the abdomen would be.
"Five reports is enough, especially from my kin in the mountain clans. If the Powers of Chaos rise, Utopak...we are going to bring chaos in all possible ways. Though we do not have the numbers of old, yet our people are still strong, and our engines are clever. By trickery and stealth, we may easily accomplish that which we could not were we to rely on numbers."
The priest stalked closer, curiosity drawn across his lime-green face. "Great One, from the beginning of your beneficient reign you have stressed the safety of our people from the wrath of Men. If we invite open war, we may be destroyed utterly."
Abruptly, Furghyn laughed, a harsh bark that rang as his earlier shout had done. "We will indeed invite war...but it does not follow that we will fight in it, priest. We shall provoke Man to fight Elf, Dwarf to fight Man, and Elf to fight Dwarf. And it will be simpler than you think..."
He swivelled on the messenger, who cringed. "Are your warriors well-trained?" Furghyn demanded. "Does your clan still remember the glory of battle?"
The younger goblin drew himself up with all of the self-possession of an Elf-lord. "Yes, o truly tremendous one. Our numbers have grown and we have many weapons. The Wargs of the hills are our staunch allies."
Which, Furghyn reflected, was not an answer to his question. Kids these days. "Carry to your chief Marpatisk this message, youngling. Let chaos be unleashed over all that set foot on the earth. Let the sons of the Dark unite. Come wrath, come ruin, and let the red dawn begin.
(OOC/ Yeah, yeah, yeah...get over it
)Utopak stood poleaxed. Furghyn had just quoted - in context - from the most respected holy book known to Goblin-kind.
He'd suggested that the end of the world was approaching.
Alatariel laid in her bed, rustling in her dreams. Rising from her bed, Alatariel again saw the spirit of his sister.
“Larien, what are you doing here in my dreams?” Alatariel questioned.
The spirit smiled, “ Sister of sorrow, the world is changing. Weak nations shall become strong and be faced with the ultimate test: destruction of the world you know and the coming of a reign of doom. But there is still hope. . .”
Pulling out a mirror from behind her back, the spirit walked over to Alatariel, who was still sitting on the bed. Extending the mirror, Alatariel glimpsed into it. Mountains were falling, fire was raining and the end of the world was upon her. Then, a tranquil beam of light appeared, and two faded figures appeared. While one stayed faded, the other revealed himself. It was her son.
“ He will help bring hope.”
“Larien, what are you doing here in my dreams?” Alatariel questioned.
The spirit smiled, “ Sister of sorrow, the world is changing. Weak nations shall become strong and be faced with the ultimate test: destruction of the world you know and the coming of a reign of doom. But there is still hope. . .”
Pulling out a mirror from behind her back, the spirit walked over to Alatariel, who was still sitting on the bed. Extending the mirror, Alatariel glimpsed into it. Mountains were falling, fire was raining and the end of the world was upon her. Then, a tranquil beam of light appeared, and two faded figures appeared. While one stayed faded, the other revealed himself. It was her son.
“ He will help bring hope.”
El Kamino
Beyond the Harbors of Jukorn, beyond the Western Seas, and beyond the horizon, a legend once told of an island inhabited by the purest of men, the wisest of them all. These men possess the strengths of no other man. These tales belonged to an ancient heritage of Lorwenho, and they are but tales of hope for the inhabitants of Lorwenho.
Upon the high seas, ten Lorwenho Galleons stood in guard of the Harbors of Jukorn. Built over a period of five long years, the harbors stood to protect the City of the Seas from any pirate attacks. Hosmilgard, the City of the Seas, has always been called the greatest settlement of Lorwenho other than Lorwen Heights itself. Its high walls were lined with guard upon every corner and every length of a galleon.
In the shores of Hosmilgard and the Western Seas, three grand harbors stood to welcome visitors who chose to visit the city through the seas. One of the docks was filled with construction workers on a project of constructing the fifteenth galleon constructed from Hosmilgard. These galleons guarded the northern shores of Lorwenho and chased pirates to their own bases to impede the attacks that have long been feared by Lorwenho's shore settlers.
Riding on horseback lined with armor, Feórian, King of Lorwenho, leads a company of two hundred cavalrymen on a visit to the grand city of harbors. A harbinger rode ahead of the company beyond the hills leading to Hosmilgard and called upon the gates of the city as he neared the walls. "Open the gates! Pave the way for Lord Feórian, King of Lorwenho!" Shouts could be heard from the harbinger's position for the gates to open.
Locks were removed, and the gates of Hosmilgard creaked open, while the harbinger rode back to the company. Upon meeting the King, he reported, "My Lord, Hosmilgard has opened its gates to us."
Feórian nodded, acknowledging the harbinger's report. Turning to his companion to the right, he said, "It seems that we are most welcome here, brother."
Lord Kuntárian, Cavalry Commander of Lorwenho, responded gracefully, "It appears so, Milord. The people of Hosmilgard are content of your rule and welcome you with open hearts."
The king faced again the walls of the grand citadel as they rode over the last hill leading to Hosmilgard. Not long after, he entered the gates of Lorwenho with his brother at his side and saw a line of soldiers led by an elder man in full armor. That man was Regent Lumparhal, steward of the king to Hosmilgard. He knelt on one knee, followed by the hundred men surrounding him and by the sounds of blowing horns across the walls of Hosmilgard.
The King of Lorwenho received the reception with great pleasure. He commanded his horse to move forward several paces ahead of the cavalry and stopped near the regent. "Rise, Lumparhal, son of Bundarhal. How fares the City of the Seas?"
Lumparhal bowed further in his state of kneeling and rose to his feet, meeting eye to eye with the ruler of the entire kingdom. "Your Excellency, we have but the best of news to report to you, but I hope that you will wait to meet with the Council to discuss the matter. In the meantime, we have provided housing for Your Excellency."
"Very well," Feórian responded, looking down at Lumparhal. "Lead the way, son of Lorwenho."
Lumparhal commanded ten of his men to follow him into the city, leading the cavalry of Lorwenho further into Hosmilgard. As the gates closed behind them, the people of the citadel welcomed the royal procession in open arms.
Upon the high seas, ten Lorwenho Galleons stood in guard of the Harbors of Jukorn. Built over a period of five long years, the harbors stood to protect the City of the Seas from any pirate attacks. Hosmilgard, the City of the Seas, has always been called the greatest settlement of Lorwenho other than Lorwen Heights itself. Its high walls were lined with guard upon every corner and every length of a galleon.
In the shores of Hosmilgard and the Western Seas, three grand harbors stood to welcome visitors who chose to visit the city through the seas. One of the docks was filled with construction workers on a project of constructing the fifteenth galleon constructed from Hosmilgard. These galleons guarded the northern shores of Lorwenho and chased pirates to their own bases to impede the attacks that have long been feared by Lorwenho's shore settlers.
Riding on horseback lined with armor, Feórian, King of Lorwenho, leads a company of two hundred cavalrymen on a visit to the grand city of harbors. A harbinger rode ahead of the company beyond the hills leading to Hosmilgard and called upon the gates of the city as he neared the walls. "Open the gates! Pave the way for Lord Feórian, King of Lorwenho!" Shouts could be heard from the harbinger's position for the gates to open.
Locks were removed, and the gates of Hosmilgard creaked open, while the harbinger rode back to the company. Upon meeting the King, he reported, "My Lord, Hosmilgard has opened its gates to us."
Feórian nodded, acknowledging the harbinger's report. Turning to his companion to the right, he said, "It seems that we are most welcome here, brother."
Lord Kuntárian, Cavalry Commander of Lorwenho, responded gracefully, "It appears so, Milord. The people of Hosmilgard are content of your rule and welcome you with open hearts."
The king faced again the walls of the grand citadel as they rode over the last hill leading to Hosmilgard. Not long after, he entered the gates of Lorwenho with his brother at his side and saw a line of soldiers led by an elder man in full armor. That man was Regent Lumparhal, steward of the king to Hosmilgard. He knelt on one knee, followed by the hundred men surrounding him and by the sounds of blowing horns across the walls of Hosmilgard.
The King of Lorwenho received the reception with great pleasure. He commanded his horse to move forward several paces ahead of the cavalry and stopped near the regent. "Rise, Lumparhal, son of Bundarhal. How fares the City of the Seas?"
Lumparhal bowed further in his state of kneeling and rose to his feet, meeting eye to eye with the ruler of the entire kingdom. "Your Excellency, we have but the best of news to report to you, but I hope that you will wait to meet with the Council to discuss the matter. In the meantime, we have provided housing for Your Excellency."
"Very well," Feórian responded, looking down at Lumparhal. "Lead the way, son of Lorwenho."
Lumparhal commanded ten of his men to follow him into the city, leading the cavalry of Lorwenho further into Hosmilgard. As the gates closed behind them, the people of the citadel welcomed the royal procession in open arms.
Last edited by JediKamSolusar on Wed Jan 14, 2004 2:03 pm, edited 1 time in total.
The moss grew thick up the Weeping Willow Altaris was sitting under. Looking above the tree line, the fog thinned and revealed the evening sky and all it majestic stars and in the waters of the lake, the waning moon reflected itself. Grabbing his ocarina, the young, handsome elf played Serenade to the Evening Heavens; a quiet, relaxing melody that was common throughout the kingdom.
“ You played that with such passion Altaris.” Alatariel said.
“I pay tribute to those who did not make the travel to the Ethereal Lands,” he replied, looking at the twinkling stars.
Smiling down of her son, Alatariel replied, “My son, mighty prince of Adaluavale, I ask a favor of you.”
Quickly grabbing his bow and quiver, he stood tall in front of Alatariel; his back straight and shoulders broad. “What is it you ask of me?”
Alatariel paused for a moment, then began, “ All the races of the world are going to be tested. Elf, Man, Dwarf, and Orc will face their doom. Altaris, I want you to travel north well beyond our realm of willow and water, to the realm of our cousins of the north. There, watch and listen well. You are the figure from Adaluavale that many will look for to help. You are my hope, young prince.”
Grabbing her sons hand, she placed a small, sharp, crystal arrowhead in his hand. “ This is the Shard of Arvandor, taken from the brightest star in the evening sky. When the battle becomes difficult, fire it into the sky. Its aura will protect all those who fight with you. Now go.”
“ I will not fail you mother.” Grabbing the mane of his trusted steed, Altaris glimpsed one last time at his mother, then galloped off into the fog.
“ You played that with such passion Altaris.” Alatariel said.
“I pay tribute to those who did not make the travel to the Ethereal Lands,” he replied, looking at the twinkling stars.
Smiling down of her son, Alatariel replied, “My son, mighty prince of Adaluavale, I ask a favor of you.”
Quickly grabbing his bow and quiver, he stood tall in front of Alatariel; his back straight and shoulders broad. “What is it you ask of me?”
Alatariel paused for a moment, then began, “ All the races of the world are going to be tested. Elf, Man, Dwarf, and Orc will face their doom. Altaris, I want you to travel north well beyond our realm of willow and water, to the realm of our cousins of the north. There, watch and listen well. You are the figure from Adaluavale that many will look for to help. You are my hope, young prince.”
Grabbing her sons hand, she placed a small, sharp, crystal arrowhead in his hand. “ This is the Shard of Arvandor, taken from the brightest star in the evening sky. When the battle becomes difficult, fire it into the sky. Its aura will protect all those who fight with you. Now go.”
“ I will not fail you mother.” Grabbing the mane of his trusted steed, Altaris glimpsed one last time at his mother, then galloped off into the fog.
A voice echoed back at the rider “Then a friend shall receive it.” The path became clear and the great gates opened and an honor guard met the man at the Gate. They let him up paths and into the great guardhouse where he could stable his horse. They let him through the bustling city of the plateau and into the great hall of Lord Alatar. However it was not he alone who lingered in the room after the exit of the guards. Sitting Next to him upon a wooden throne was Aelus, prince of Norenela.
He stood and spoke softly in the common tongue of man. “It is an honor to once again have tidings from the Dwarven King. I wish it was under better circumstances that we meet. We have been expecting you for many weeks.
”I hope that one day many more dwarves will feel welcome in the lands of Norelena.”
The Prince Nodded at the man and then Lord Alatar spoke, “It is disturbing news that the trolls now roam the mountain again, mountains which we have both fought so hard to protect.”
“Indeed. A great evil is on the move seeking power. I know not what the outcome may be I only know that a great danger is just out of view, the Strength of the Dwarves would be much appreciated in upcoming nights however. With your Axes and your Armor and our spears and bows we shall remains as we always have, free.”
Alatar spoke again “the Prince shall go back to Kazad Grim with you and he will give to him a mighty gift.” From under Alatars cloak he pulled out a smiths hammer. The hammer was beautiful covered with golden decorations and Evish runes upon it. “The Prince is to deliver it to your king.”
“It shall be a pleasure to ride with one such as yourself.”
He stood and spoke softly in the common tongue of man. “It is an honor to once again have tidings from the Dwarven King. I wish it was under better circumstances that we meet. We have been expecting you for many weeks.
”I hope that one day many more dwarves will feel welcome in the lands of Norelena.”
The Prince Nodded at the man and then Lord Alatar spoke, “It is disturbing news that the trolls now roam the mountain again, mountains which we have both fought so hard to protect.”
“Indeed. A great evil is on the move seeking power. I know not what the outcome may be I only know that a great danger is just out of view, the Strength of the Dwarves would be much appreciated in upcoming nights however. With your Axes and your Armor and our spears and bows we shall remains as we always have, free.”
Alatar spoke again “the Prince shall go back to Kazad Grim with you and he will give to him a mighty gift.” From under Alatars cloak he pulled out a smiths hammer. The hammer was beautiful covered with golden decorations and Evish runes upon it. “The Prince is to deliver it to your king.”
“It shall be a pleasure to ride with one such as yourself.”
Domani, forget domani
Let's live for now and anyhow who needs domani?
~ Frank Sinatra, Forget Domani
Let's live for now and anyhow who needs domani?
~ Frank Sinatra, Forget Domani
El Kamino
On the northern borders of Lorwenho, lies the great protector of Lorwenho, the Kelbard Tower. On the top of the Tower, one would be able to see far into the distance to all directions, all the way to the source of the Mulfarnan River and the shades of the mountains of the Dwarves. Serving as a harbinger of an approaching enemy or ally, the Tower keeps to itself twenty riders with the fastest of horses to spread news upon the secluded lands of Lorwenho. Rising above the marshes, the Kelbard Tower ensures the protection of the plains to the North, beyond the borders of Lorwenho.
Sarlanda, Keeper of the Tower, carefully watches the horizon for movement upon the earth, paying attention to the smallest details of movement, even the flight of the birds. He watches the mountains to the West, where the Kingdom of Quidoma lies. He keeps the bonfire atop of the tower lighted to ensure that all riders shall know upon riding into the lands of Lorwenho. He sends riders out upon the marshes to scout for any trolls moving about these secluded lands.
In the blowing wind, Sarlanda watched to the north, whispering the words of an ancient tale. He closed his eyes and muttered, "The coming of those who have slept shall spread distress upon the kingdom which harbors them." Still recounting the tales that have been the heritage of his family, Sarlanda cautiously listened to the movements of the grass in the wind. "The wind shall be the foreword of the sleeping enemies."
Suddenly opening his eyes, he heard an unusual noise in the distance. A sound he has not heard in many years, the sounds of grunting and a lumbering troll. He leaned forward to listen carefully upon the unusual sounds being made, and he came to a suspicious judgment. He turned inside and called out in a thunderous voice despite his age. "Ride out the scouts!"
Instantly, the gates of the Kelbard Tower opened to reveal five scout runners rushing with the greatest of speeds on their horses to the northeast, where the source of the sounds lie. Sarlanda waited, for the return of the riders, and the news that would make the King anxious.
Sarlanda, Keeper of the Tower, carefully watches the horizon for movement upon the earth, paying attention to the smallest details of movement, even the flight of the birds. He watches the mountains to the West, where the Kingdom of Quidoma lies. He keeps the bonfire atop of the tower lighted to ensure that all riders shall know upon riding into the lands of Lorwenho. He sends riders out upon the marshes to scout for any trolls moving about these secluded lands.
In the blowing wind, Sarlanda watched to the north, whispering the words of an ancient tale. He closed his eyes and muttered, "The coming of those who have slept shall spread distress upon the kingdom which harbors them." Still recounting the tales that have been the heritage of his family, Sarlanda cautiously listened to the movements of the grass in the wind. "The wind shall be the foreword of the sleeping enemies."
Suddenly opening his eyes, he heard an unusual noise in the distance. A sound he has not heard in many years, the sounds of grunting and a lumbering troll. He leaned forward to listen carefully upon the unusual sounds being made, and he came to a suspicious judgment. He turned inside and called out in a thunderous voice despite his age. "Ride out the scouts!"
Instantly, the gates of the Kelbard Tower opened to reveal five scout runners rushing with the greatest of speeds on their horses to the northeast, where the source of the sounds lie. Sarlanda waited, for the return of the riders, and the news that would make the King anxious.
Ave Imperator
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Quidoma Kingdom - Gradon Pass
Wind swept across the Gradon Pass, light snow was falling. A troll followed by a small group of orcs slowly made their way through the large canyon towards the village of Lix.
"How much longer?" asked one of the orcs. "Not much further, soon we'll be feasting on fresh man flesh," laughed another.
An arrow whistled through the cold air, striking the lead orc and instantly killing him. "AMBUSH!!" screamed the orcs.
A stream of Quidoma warriors poured out of their mountain hiding places and attacked the orcs. "Concentrate your arrows on the troll." yelled the commander. A group of arrows flew through the air and hit the troll all over his body. However, it wasn't enough to stop him. The troll made it's way towards the soldiers and swung it's club at anything that moved.
The commander ran up the hill to the campsite and grabbed his old spear. "Fly true," he said to himself as he threw the spear with all his might. It flew towards the ususpecting troll at a fast pace. The spear ptruck the troll in the head, killing it instantly.
"Hurrah!" yelled the men, "The pass is secure!" "Wait," yelled the commander. The commander was none other than Commander Vlando, heir to the Quidoma throne. "For many winters have I defended our lands from the orcs that live beyond this pass, but never have I seen a troll."
He grabbed his spear from the troll carcass and turned to his men, "Send a messenger to the King and inform him of this event, I do not believe this will bode well for our kingdom."
Quidoma Kingdom - Gradon Pass
Wind swept across the Gradon Pass, light snow was falling. A troll followed by a small group of orcs slowly made their way through the large canyon towards the village of Lix.
"How much longer?" asked one of the orcs. "Not much further, soon we'll be feasting on fresh man flesh," laughed another.
An arrow whistled through the cold air, striking the lead orc and instantly killing him. "AMBUSH!!" screamed the orcs.
A stream of Quidoma warriors poured out of their mountain hiding places and attacked the orcs. "Concentrate your arrows on the troll." yelled the commander. A group of arrows flew through the air and hit the troll all over his body. However, it wasn't enough to stop him. The troll made it's way towards the soldiers and swung it's club at anything that moved.
The commander ran up the hill to the campsite and grabbed his old spear. "Fly true," he said to himself as he threw the spear with all his might. It flew towards the ususpecting troll at a fast pace. The spear ptruck the troll in the head, killing it instantly.
"Hurrah!" yelled the men, "The pass is secure!" "Wait," yelled the commander. The commander was none other than Commander Vlando, heir to the Quidoma throne. "For many winters have I defended our lands from the orcs that live beyond this pass, but never have I seen a troll."
He grabbed his spear from the troll carcass and turned to his men, "Send a messenger to the King and inform him of this event, I do not believe this will bode well for our kingdom."
McCaffery: There are creatures in the deep you couldn't imagine in your worst nightmares.
Arthur 'AC' Curry: Oh thats reassuring. Thanks a lot.
"When someone stands in the way of justice, you simply walk up behind them and stab them in the heart" Ras Al-Gul - Batman Begins
Arthur 'AC' Curry: Oh thats reassuring. Thanks a lot.
"When someone stands in the way of justice, you simply walk up behind them and stab them in the heart" Ras Al-Gul - Batman Begins
The Adminerator
Wilhelm turned to Prince Aelus. In the Elvish tongue, he said:
"The pleasure is mine, mylord." He turned to Lord Alatar.
"I understand your tongue well, mylord. It serves your honor well, that you choose to speak in the tongue of Men, however." He turned to the Prince once again.
"We shall leave when you are ready."
"The pleasure is mine, mylord." He turned to Lord Alatar.
"I understand your tongue well, mylord. It serves your honor well, that you choose to speak in the tongue of Men, however." He turned to the Prince once again.
"We shall leave when you are ready."
False Dichotomy
Posts: 4416
Joined: Mon Mar 10, 2003 10:55 am
Joined: Mon Mar 10, 2003 10:55 am
The replies were both speedy and uncertain. Since Furghyn had inherited the title of Great Goblin of the South - there was none of the North; the Southern designator was a matter of antiquity - he had brutally enforced isolation. Wars in the past, he maintained, had robbed the Turici of their glory. He had declared a five-year grace for the lesser races, and any infringement had been punished with lethal force. Then he had declared another once the first was finished. The most violent raid in recent history had resulted in two wounded and a small flock of sheep stolen from a farmer of Lorwenho. Things like this were allowed, Furghyn stated, because men were suspicious by nature and would look on a total end to raids as a preparation for a grand offensive.
It had taken over half of his reign to do so, but Goblinkind were now as close to pacifists as they'd ever been. Vicious infighting occurred daily, but no incursion on other races had been propagated.
Ironically, this same peace had limited Furghyn's power. The title of Great Goblin was equivalent to that of a military regent, a war-leader. By saying that no wars would be fought, he became a symbol, alone in a mountain keep that bristled in time of strife.
To say that last morning's edict had caught the clan chiefs flat-footed was an understatement. Some had only supported his accession because they were directly between Lorwenho or Ruathorn and Furghyn. Their messengers, those of clans Sahennisk, Jasheer and Tuunlon in particular, conveyed polite disbelief and an almost universal hope that the message had not been tampered with en route.
In contrast, every other clan leader was ecstatic. By and large, they yearned for a good fight, what the more barbaric desert tribes termed the 'taste of man-flesh'. So much for societal progress.
The priests, naturally, supported this new move. More wars meant more prominence. Their duties included public blessings and similar acts that would increase devotion among the layGoblin. Utopak himself was on Furghyn's side totally, and it wasn't very likely that any priest would contradict him.
The chief priest himself was currently seated at a broad table hewn all of stone, the centre of Furghyn's banquet hall. The Keep of the Great Goblin had been understaffed for long years, and few visited. Now, however, envoys and their guards filled over half of the room. Noise - rough laughter, objects breaking, and surprisingly on-key singing - echoed from the cave's roof until it reached almost deafening volume. In the corner, the envoys from the rival clans of Forva and Crennin were going at it hammer and tongs, while their bodyguards roared humourously and placed bets.
In short, it was a party, a grand party worthy of the Great Goblin. A roast ipotame, a southern delicacy, was carried in by a pair of cave trolls whose stout manacles rattled loud on the floor. A few of the younger guards had begun baiting them, only to be restrained by their elders; these were the Great Goblin's property, and deserved the respect due to their master, even though they didn't look like the average thrall. The less experienced fighters had only ever encountered men and dwarves wearing the bronze collar of a thrall. The trolls' collars, massive though they were, were far above a Goblin's head, and it was easy not to notice them.
Utopak leaned over to Furghyn, swilling some unknown drink. "The last of the courses has been served, Great One, and the last of the envoys have eaten their fill."
The Great Goblin ripped savory meat off the bone and held the bare knobs up for inspection. "Not bad. Goat, d'you think?" He saw Utopak's expression and chuckled. "Yes, yes. All in good time. The envoys can wait for their replies until we're all done." The miffed priest retreated to a bowl of stew so thick with meat and potatoes as to be almost solid.
Some minutes later, Furghyn pulled Azuba from its scabbard and struck a ringing blow to one of the wall-mounted shields. Though the bodyguards professed to take no notice, the envoys instantly pushed back their chairs and filed down to the door. Last of all, only barely preceding the Great Goblin himself, were the messengers of Forva and Crennin, each bearing many minor wounds.
The room they entered was round and barren of seating. All discussion would be done on their feet, as was the Goblin custom.
"Here is what I wish you to tell your lords," Furghyn stated without preamble. "There will be war." Many cheered, whom he waved down. "Within two years, I guarantee it."
"With whom, o Great One?" These were high-ranked envoys, and allowed to address him in this way. Anyone of lower status would be forced to name him with the archaic and overdramatic 'Truly Tremendous One'. Personally, Furghyn didn't mind it.
"With all!" He paused to allow a brief cheer, then continued. "Yes, two years is a long time, but we will need that time to organize our armies. Also, I have dispatched special orders to my family of the Hesedd. They will begin the groundwork of getting the Dwarves and Men to wipe the foul strength of the Elves from the face of the Earth." Sabotage and betrayal missions of all sorts, which would occupy almost all of those two years.
"Envoys of the Tuunlon, Rugasta and Jasheer. Until our war erupts, your peoples are charged with defence of the Dry Sea, and of the river which comes down from the mountains of Ruathorn. Blockade the river at intervals; it is one of our weakest borders.
"Envoys of Virdess, Sahennisk and Rekag. Hold strong our northern border. Train your youngsters in the tongue of Wargs, and the best ways to kill a Dwarf.
"Envoys of Ghad and Thun Mas Kal. Use the ancient forests of your lands to build ships and war-wagons, and craft many arrows and bows.
"Envoys of Forva, Hâhume and Crennin. You will be our main striking force. I want every man of your clans to approach the level of my guards in skill." Not that that was likely to happen, but one could only hope.
"Do not, under any circumstances, move outside our territories until I call for it. The punishment would be dire."
He nodded, signifying the end of the briefing. They nodded in return, and began to file out.
It had taken over half of his reign to do so, but Goblinkind were now as close to pacifists as they'd ever been. Vicious infighting occurred daily, but no incursion on other races had been propagated.
Ironically, this same peace had limited Furghyn's power. The title of Great Goblin was equivalent to that of a military regent, a war-leader. By saying that no wars would be fought, he became a symbol, alone in a mountain keep that bristled in time of strife.
To say that last morning's edict had caught the clan chiefs flat-footed was an understatement. Some had only supported his accession because they were directly between Lorwenho or Ruathorn and Furghyn. Their messengers, those of clans Sahennisk, Jasheer and Tuunlon in particular, conveyed polite disbelief and an almost universal hope that the message had not been tampered with en route.
In contrast, every other clan leader was ecstatic. By and large, they yearned for a good fight, what the more barbaric desert tribes termed the 'taste of man-flesh'. So much for societal progress.
The priests, naturally, supported this new move. More wars meant more prominence. Their duties included public blessings and similar acts that would increase devotion among the layGoblin. Utopak himself was on Furghyn's side totally, and it wasn't very likely that any priest would contradict him.
The chief priest himself was currently seated at a broad table hewn all of stone, the centre of Furghyn's banquet hall. The Keep of the Great Goblin had been understaffed for long years, and few visited. Now, however, envoys and their guards filled over half of the room. Noise - rough laughter, objects breaking, and surprisingly on-key singing - echoed from the cave's roof until it reached almost deafening volume. In the corner, the envoys from the rival clans of Forva and Crennin were going at it hammer and tongs, while their bodyguards roared humourously and placed bets.
In short, it was a party, a grand party worthy of the Great Goblin. A roast ipotame, a southern delicacy, was carried in by a pair of cave trolls whose stout manacles rattled loud on the floor. A few of the younger guards had begun baiting them, only to be restrained by their elders; these were the Great Goblin's property, and deserved the respect due to their master, even though they didn't look like the average thrall. The less experienced fighters had only ever encountered men and dwarves wearing the bronze collar of a thrall. The trolls' collars, massive though they were, were far above a Goblin's head, and it was easy not to notice them.
Utopak leaned over to Furghyn, swilling some unknown drink. "The last of the courses has been served, Great One, and the last of the envoys have eaten their fill."
The Great Goblin ripped savory meat off the bone and held the bare knobs up for inspection. "Not bad. Goat, d'you think?" He saw Utopak's expression and chuckled. "Yes, yes. All in good time. The envoys can wait for their replies until we're all done." The miffed priest retreated to a bowl of stew so thick with meat and potatoes as to be almost solid.
Some minutes later, Furghyn pulled Azuba from its scabbard and struck a ringing blow to one of the wall-mounted shields. Though the bodyguards professed to take no notice, the envoys instantly pushed back their chairs and filed down to the door. Last of all, only barely preceding the Great Goblin himself, were the messengers of Forva and Crennin, each bearing many minor wounds.
The room they entered was round and barren of seating. All discussion would be done on their feet, as was the Goblin custom.
"Here is what I wish you to tell your lords," Furghyn stated without preamble. "There will be war." Many cheered, whom he waved down. "Within two years, I guarantee it."
"With whom, o Great One?" These were high-ranked envoys, and allowed to address him in this way. Anyone of lower status would be forced to name him with the archaic and overdramatic 'Truly Tremendous One'. Personally, Furghyn didn't mind it.
"With all!" He paused to allow a brief cheer, then continued. "Yes, two years is a long time, but we will need that time to organize our armies. Also, I have dispatched special orders to my family of the Hesedd. They will begin the groundwork of getting the Dwarves and Men to wipe the foul strength of the Elves from the face of the Earth." Sabotage and betrayal missions of all sorts, which would occupy almost all of those two years.
"Envoys of the Tuunlon, Rugasta and Jasheer. Until our war erupts, your peoples are charged with defence of the Dry Sea, and of the river which comes down from the mountains of Ruathorn. Blockade the river at intervals; it is one of our weakest borders.
"Envoys of Virdess, Sahennisk and Rekag. Hold strong our northern border. Train your youngsters in the tongue of Wargs, and the best ways to kill a Dwarf.
"Envoys of Ghad and Thun Mas Kal. Use the ancient forests of your lands to build ships and war-wagons, and craft many arrows and bows.
"Envoys of Forva, Hâhume and Crennin. You will be our main striking force. I want every man of your clans to approach the level of my guards in skill." Not that that was likely to happen, but one could only hope.
"Do not, under any circumstances, move outside our territories until I call for it. The punishment would be dire."
He nodded, signifying the end of the briefing. They nodded in return, and began to file out.
I am Spartacus
Posts: 3316
Joined: Thu Feb 20, 2003 3:15 am
Joined: Thu Feb 20, 2003 3:15 am
Location: Somewhere between madness & genius
The great hall errupted with laughter and cheers accompanied by the clatter of ale filled tankards.
"You should have seen the look on his face as his head felll off" he paused to take a bite out of a great leg of meat.
The man at the head of the table, the Lord of the Ruathorn Nation nodded and drank from his tankard. "Aye, it was a great battle indeed Krun, and it's been too long since we crushed any ork scum under our heels."
One of the older men at the table and a little further down fro Krun and the head of the table spoke up.
"All that could change my lord, there are rumours of the orcs becoming strong again, and some of our scouts have reported strange beasts mmmoving amoungst the mountain passes away from us.
"And what would you have us do , eh Stainos? Would you have us sit here and cower like those weaklings of the south? If they are becoming strong I laugh at it. Let them come and we will drive them before us like our forefathers and the great Ruathorn."
At the mention of Ruathorn all at the tale bowed their heads for a second and lifted them to take a long draught from their tankards.
"Aye so shall it be Krun, let those poor folk elsewhere worry about orks and strange creatures, we will deal with the orks in the way it has been done for a hundred years."
Stainos shot Krun a look of hatered but hid it. Such things done openly were considered a challenge and Krun was one of Lord Fanghelm's best warriors.
As the conversation continued on amoungst the other warriors at the table, Fanghelm turned to his son at his right hand and bade him lean in close.
"My son, I too have heard such rumours from the shamen and I believe that they are too be heeded. I am sending you on a quest to search out the extent of these rumours to ascertain to what degree the strength of the orcs has returned. Take Krun and four others of your choosing with you."
His son didn't react but seemed to be thinking it through.
"Does Krun know of this?"
"He does, I called him when the shamen told me of the warnings."
"Then it shall be so father. We leave at daybreak."
Fanghlem clapped his son on the shoulder and turned back to the feast at hand as one of the maids came and refilled his tankard and he joined in laughing at something one of the others had spoke of.
"You should have seen the look on his face as his head felll off" he paused to take a bite out of a great leg of meat.
The man at the head of the table, the Lord of the Ruathorn Nation nodded and drank from his tankard. "Aye, it was a great battle indeed Krun, and it's been too long since we crushed any ork scum under our heels."
One of the older men at the table and a little further down fro Krun and the head of the table spoke up.
"All that could change my lord, there are rumours of the orcs becoming strong again, and some of our scouts have reported strange beasts mmmoving amoungst the mountain passes away from us.
"And what would you have us do , eh Stainos? Would you have us sit here and cower like those weaklings of the south? If they are becoming strong I laugh at it. Let them come and we will drive them before us like our forefathers and the great Ruathorn."
At the mention of Ruathorn all at the tale bowed their heads for a second and lifted them to take a long draught from their tankards.
"Aye so shall it be Krun, let those poor folk elsewhere worry about orks and strange creatures, we will deal with the orks in the way it has been done for a hundred years."
Stainos shot Krun a look of hatered but hid it. Such things done openly were considered a challenge and Krun was one of Lord Fanghelm's best warriors.
As the conversation continued on amoungst the other warriors at the table, Fanghelm turned to his son at his right hand and bade him lean in close.
"My son, I too have heard such rumours from the shamen and I believe that they are too be heeded. I am sending you on a quest to search out the extent of these rumours to ascertain to what degree the strength of the orcs has returned. Take Krun and four others of your choosing with you."
His son didn't react but seemed to be thinking it through.
"Does Krun know of this?"
"He does, I called him when the shamen told me of the warnings."
"Then it shall be so father. We leave at daybreak."
Fanghlem clapped his son on the shoulder and turned back to the feast at hand as one of the maids came and refilled his tankard and he joined in laughing at something one of the others had spoke of.
* Beware the fury of a patient man.
* What's the point in being alive if you're not living?
* "But we can't be free, until we learn to laugh at ourselves. Once you look in the mirror and see just how foolish we can be, laughter is inevitable. And from laughter comes wisdom." - G'Kar, B5
* What's the point in being alive if you're not living?
* "But we can't be free, until we learn to laugh at ourselves. Once you look in the mirror and see just how foolish we can be, laughter is inevitable. And from laughter comes wisdom." - G'Kar, B5
Ave Imperator
Posts: 2216
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ic:
Quidoma Kingdom - Village of Lix
The village of Lix sat on the boundry of the Feilds of Light and the Montoma mountains. Lix was more of a constant battlefeild than a village. It was the closest Quidoma settlement to the orc territory in the northeast mountains.
Commander Vlando and his group of soldiers rode into the village and immideatly went to the forwards command post. The orcs hadn't attacked Lix in a long time. Following Vlando was his second-in-command. Vlando's second-in-command was a Montomes, a man of the moutain. It was a montomes's job to constantly patrol the many mountain passes for any sign of orcs. His name was Dante, he knew the mountains like a smith knows his armors. He was given the title of second-in-command because of his vast knowledge of every pass and trail in the mountains. "Something is wrong here," Vlando said to his second-in-command.
"What do you mean, sir?" Dante answered. "Why is it in the past, we were under constant attack here, and now we havn't been attack in at least a season?" he asked. "Sir, maybe they are regrouping after there attacks to bring on a full army?" Dante suggested. "Possibly," Vlando replied.
Just then a horse stode down the moutain and towards the village. The rider was a soldier named Rian, a soldier stationed in an advanced camp that over looked a large pass called the Benavlo Pass. It split into two paths, the western pass led here, to Quidoma, but the southern pass led to the Kingdom of Ruathorn.
Rian entered the village and ran up to Commander Vlando, Commander Vlando, sir, I have urgent news." he said to him. "Go ahead Rian." Vlando answered. Rian had known Commander Vlando since he was young. "Sir, there is a large orc force marching down the Benavlo Pass, there are far too many for us to attack them. They also have a number of trolls with them." he explained. "I see, I will have our forces ready," he said, "I guess you were right Dante, they were marchelling a force to attack us head on."
"But, sir" Rian interrupted, "they're not heading this way." "What?" Vlando questioned, "Then where are the headed?"
"They're headed for the Kingdom of Ruathorn. They will arrive in at least three days." Rian finished. Dante then interrupted, "Sir, we must warn them, Ruathorn might not be expecting this attack."
"Yes," Vlando answered, "Ruathorn is a close ally to Quidoma, one of few." He then turned to Dante and his men, "Dante, I want you to take your men to Ruathorn and warn them of the attack, and if possible i want you to help them defend their Kingdom."
"Yes, sir" Dante answered. Before he could leave, Vlando added one more thing, "I will take a force to come from behind them and we will corner them in the Mountains of Ruathorn."
Dante then turned, saluted, and walked out into the village. "Montomes! We ride for Ruathorn!" They all mounted their horses and rode off into the mountains.
"Sir?" Rian asked, "Yes, Rian?" Vlando answered. "The orcs have a large start on them, are you sure they will reach Ruathorn in time?"
Vlando laughed, "Yes, Rian, they are the Montomes they know a quick way throught the mountains, they could catch up to a force two days ahead of them by using their knowledge of the mountains."
"Rian, I want you to get your forces ready, I want you to ride for Ruathron in two days. I'm trusting you can do this task for me." He smiled, "When you get to Ruathorn, I want you to decimate any orcs that try to flee."
"Yes, sir" Rian then turned and rode off for his post, deep in the Montoma Mountains.
Vlando then turned back to the map of Quidoma on the table, "It has begun..."
Quidoma Kingdom - Village of Lix
The village of Lix sat on the boundry of the Feilds of Light and the Montoma mountains. Lix was more of a constant battlefeild than a village. It was the closest Quidoma settlement to the orc territory in the northeast mountains.
Commander Vlando and his group of soldiers rode into the village and immideatly went to the forwards command post. The orcs hadn't attacked Lix in a long time. Following Vlando was his second-in-command. Vlando's second-in-command was a Montomes, a man of the moutain. It was a montomes's job to constantly patrol the many mountain passes for any sign of orcs. His name was Dante, he knew the mountains like a smith knows his armors. He was given the title of second-in-command because of his vast knowledge of every pass and trail in the mountains. "Something is wrong here," Vlando said to his second-in-command.
"What do you mean, sir?" Dante answered. "Why is it in the past, we were under constant attack here, and now we havn't been attack in at least a season?" he asked. "Sir, maybe they are regrouping after there attacks to bring on a full army?" Dante suggested. "Possibly," Vlando replied.
Just then a horse stode down the moutain and towards the village. The rider was a soldier named Rian, a soldier stationed in an advanced camp that over looked a large pass called the Benavlo Pass. It split into two paths, the western pass led here, to Quidoma, but the southern pass led to the Kingdom of Ruathorn.
Rian entered the village and ran up to Commander Vlando, Commander Vlando, sir, I have urgent news." he said to him. "Go ahead Rian." Vlando answered. Rian had known Commander Vlando since he was young. "Sir, there is a large orc force marching down the Benavlo Pass, there are far too many for us to attack them. They also have a number of trolls with them." he explained. "I see, I will have our forces ready," he said, "I guess you were right Dante, they were marchelling a force to attack us head on."
"But, sir" Rian interrupted, "they're not heading this way." "What?" Vlando questioned, "Then where are the headed?"
"They're headed for the Kingdom of Ruathorn. They will arrive in at least three days." Rian finished. Dante then interrupted, "Sir, we must warn them, Ruathorn might not be expecting this attack."
"Yes," Vlando answered, "Ruathorn is a close ally to Quidoma, one of few." He then turned to Dante and his men, "Dante, I want you to take your men to Ruathorn and warn them of the attack, and if possible i want you to help them defend their Kingdom."
"Yes, sir" Dante answered. Before he could leave, Vlando added one more thing, "I will take a force to come from behind them and we will corner them in the Mountains of Ruathorn."
Dante then turned, saluted, and walked out into the village. "Montomes! We ride for Ruathorn!" They all mounted their horses and rode off into the mountains.
"Sir?" Rian asked, "Yes, Rian?" Vlando answered. "The orcs have a large start on them, are you sure they will reach Ruathorn in time?"
Vlando laughed, "Yes, Rian, they are the Montomes they know a quick way throught the mountains, they could catch up to a force two days ahead of them by using their knowledge of the mountains."
"Rian, I want you to get your forces ready, I want you to ride for Ruathron in two days. I'm trusting you can do this task for me." He smiled, "When you get to Ruathorn, I want you to decimate any orcs that try to flee."
"Yes, sir" Rian then turned and rode off for his post, deep in the Montoma Mountains.
Vlando then turned back to the map of Quidoma on the table, "It has begun..."
McCaffery: There are creatures in the deep you couldn't imagine in your worst nightmares.
Arthur 'AC' Curry: Oh thats reassuring. Thanks a lot.
"When someone stands in the way of justice, you simply walk up behind them and stab them in the heart" Ras Al-Gul - Batman Begins
Arthur 'AC' Curry: Oh thats reassuring. Thanks a lot.
"When someone stands in the way of justice, you simply walk up behind them and stab them in the heart" Ras Al-Gul - Batman Begins
Arophalos’ gallop quickened as he sped toward the edge of the realm. His passenger, Altaris, bent over and whispered, “Run fast, run hard.” in the white steeds’ ear. Taking a deep breathe, Altaris yearned to see the world outside the fog. Grabbing tightly onto the reigns, Arophalos leaped out of the realm of sorrow. . .
The horse’s front legs hit the ground hard, shaking Altaris for a moment. Altaris pulled the reigns back hard and gasped in awe of the landscape. A plain of sweeping, tall grass was in front of him, with the mountains to the far north. Looking east, he saw the morning sunrise; the orb being the brightest mix of pinks and oranges he had ever seen. To the west, the large Lake Odai covered the expanse in crystal blue. Looking behind him, he saw the power of his mother. A massive, grey wall of dense fog protected Adaluavale from outsiders. “It’s a shame that she doesn’t see the beauty of this,” Altaris thought to himself as Arophalos once again started to gallop north.
Sweeping plains turned into the foothills of the Norelena Mountain Rim. Large boulders dotted the landscape. The sun was now quarter done with its journey across the sky. Arophalos slowed his speed, cautiously. Altaris’ elven senses also forsaw danger. Something was lurking in the shadows of the boulders . . .
The horse’s front legs hit the ground hard, shaking Altaris for a moment. Altaris pulled the reigns back hard and gasped in awe of the landscape. A plain of sweeping, tall grass was in front of him, with the mountains to the far north. Looking east, he saw the morning sunrise; the orb being the brightest mix of pinks and oranges he had ever seen. To the west, the large Lake Odai covered the expanse in crystal blue. Looking behind him, he saw the power of his mother. A massive, grey wall of dense fog protected Adaluavale from outsiders. “It’s a shame that she doesn’t see the beauty of this,” Altaris thought to himself as Arophalos once again started to gallop north.
Sweeping plains turned into the foothills of the Norelena Mountain Rim. Large boulders dotted the landscape. The sun was now quarter done with its journey across the sky. Arophalos slowed his speed, cautiously. Altaris’ elven senses also forsaw danger. Something was lurking in the shadows of the boulders . . .
The Adminerator
A day after Wilhelm had left Kazad Grim, five wooden barges left Kazad Gazan, and drifted down Sulphur River towards Ruathorn. Onboard was 200 dwarven warriors, armed with crossbows and axes. Along with them was Furgil Proudbeard, heir to the throne of Kazad Grim.
The five barges were sturdily built, and covered the distance in just under three days. On the fourth day, the small dwarven force descended from the mountains near Miarsta...
The five barges were sturdily built, and covered the distance in just under three days. On the fourth day, the small dwarven force descended from the mountains near Miarsta...
I am Spartacus
Posts: 3316
Joined: Thu Feb 20, 2003 3:15 am
Joined: Thu Feb 20, 2003 3:15 am
Location: Somewhere between madness & genius
The next day was a buzz of activity as the Kings eldest and his five chosen warriors, including Krun, were preparing to leave. Their horses were packed with enough provisions for a weeks travel. Wrapped in the great furs and cloaks they sat upon their horses as Lord Fanghelm stood on the steps of the great hall and pointed his sword towards them.
"May the spirit of Ruathorn go with you and drive your enemies before you."
There was a great sound as the party members unsheathed their swords and bowed their heads. "And may he stand watch over you till we return" the party shouted raising their swords in the air before sheathing them and making their way down through the city as people gathered to watch them go.
As the Fanghelm watched them pass behind some houses and away from view he turned to make his way back into the hall but paused at the sound of a horse galloping up.
He turned to see a youngish man ride up and dismount at a run and came up the steps before kneeling. By his garb Fanghelm could tell he was one of the scouts they kept in small posts throughout the mountains around their kingdom.
"Rise and give me your report inside the hall once you have some ale and food in you boy."
The scout nodded as he rose and followed his lord inside. They sat at the great table in Fanghelms hall and were joined by several of the lords advisors and some of the natiioons greatest warriors.
"My lord, there is a force of dwarves moving down out of the mountains bty barge towards us. We parlied them and they come in peace. There is word of a great host of orcs and trolls making towards Miarsta."
There were murmers from the others at the table but Stainos' eyes narrowed and he seemed to listen more intently but no one seemed to notice him or care.
"How far away do they say this force is from our borders?"
"Roughly three days. The dwarves will be here in one day. Should we send word to Quidoma?"
Fanghelm paused for a moment, both to think and to drink some of the ale that had been set before him.
"If they approach from the south then their Montomes will have seen of it and will respond as they see fit, but take word to the watchtowers to keep a strong eye towards Quidoma lest they send aid. But rest yourself and your horse for a few hours." Fanghelm beckoned to one of the servants who came over.
"Ensure he has a comfortable bed for a few hours and tend to his horse." The servant nodded and waited as the scout stood and nodded his head to the lord before leaving.
"Well Stainos, it would seem that your sour tales of war may be coming to pass." He paused to take another drink as some of the others laughed. Stainos merely nodded, a wry smile on his face.
"Well my lord, such is the way of this world."
"Aye, and it is the way of our nation to crush their ugly heads beneath our axes and swords eh!!"
They all including Fanghelm laughed and toasted each other with their tankards. As one of the Ruathorn nations previous ruler had said, 'The only time ale's bad is when there isn't any' which the people had seized upon as a good excuse for drinking at every available opportunity. The only time the were deadly serious about it was on the eve of battle. It was custom amoung their people to drink one tankard in memory of Ruathorn before any battle.
As they finished laughing Fanghelm drained the last of his tankard and held up a hand for silence.
"If this force is to be upon us in three days, I want messengers sent to every town and settlement in our nation, to summon every fighter to the meeting rock two days hence. Have the necessary provisions sent ahead of us and a camp prepared. I myself will lead my people into battle. It's been too long since Vendel tasted orc blood on her blade."
His right hand rested on the helm of his impressive sword. Passed down to him by his father, the sword had been made for them by a Dwarfen Lord whose life had been saved by Fanghelms father during a battle. He had tested it on several captured orc warriors and each time the sword had cut cleanly through them.
The others at the table rose and nodded before making their way out of the hall. Fanghelm rose himself and headed back to his quarters for some rest. It had been too long since he'd lain with his wife.
"May the spirit of Ruathorn go with you and drive your enemies before you."
There was a great sound as the party members unsheathed their swords and bowed their heads. "And may he stand watch over you till we return" the party shouted raising their swords in the air before sheathing them and making their way down through the city as people gathered to watch them go.
As the Fanghelm watched them pass behind some houses and away from view he turned to make his way back into the hall but paused at the sound of a horse galloping up.
He turned to see a youngish man ride up and dismount at a run and came up the steps before kneeling. By his garb Fanghelm could tell he was one of the scouts they kept in small posts throughout the mountains around their kingdom.
"Rise and give me your report inside the hall once you have some ale and food in you boy."
The scout nodded as he rose and followed his lord inside. They sat at the great table in Fanghelms hall and were joined by several of the lords advisors and some of the natiioons greatest warriors.
"My lord, there is a force of dwarves moving down out of the mountains bty barge towards us. We parlied them and they come in peace. There is word of a great host of orcs and trolls making towards Miarsta."
There were murmers from the others at the table but Stainos' eyes narrowed and he seemed to listen more intently but no one seemed to notice him or care.
"How far away do they say this force is from our borders?"
"Roughly three days. The dwarves will be here in one day. Should we send word to Quidoma?"
Fanghelm paused for a moment, both to think and to drink some of the ale that had been set before him.
"If they approach from the south then their Montomes will have seen of it and will respond as they see fit, but take word to the watchtowers to keep a strong eye towards Quidoma lest they send aid. But rest yourself and your horse for a few hours." Fanghelm beckoned to one of the servants who came over.
"Ensure he has a comfortable bed for a few hours and tend to his horse." The servant nodded and waited as the scout stood and nodded his head to the lord before leaving.
"Well Stainos, it would seem that your sour tales of war may be coming to pass." He paused to take another drink as some of the others laughed. Stainos merely nodded, a wry smile on his face.
"Well my lord, such is the way of this world."
"Aye, and it is the way of our nation to crush their ugly heads beneath our axes and swords eh!!"
They all including Fanghelm laughed and toasted each other with their tankards. As one of the Ruathorn nations previous ruler had said, 'The only time ale's bad is when there isn't any' which the people had seized upon as a good excuse for drinking at every available opportunity. The only time the were deadly serious about it was on the eve of battle. It was custom amoung their people to drink one tankard in memory of Ruathorn before any battle.
As they finished laughing Fanghelm drained the last of his tankard and held up a hand for silence.
"If this force is to be upon us in three days, I want messengers sent to every town and settlement in our nation, to summon every fighter to the meeting rock two days hence. Have the necessary provisions sent ahead of us and a camp prepared. I myself will lead my people into battle. It's been too long since Vendel tasted orc blood on her blade."
His right hand rested on the helm of his impressive sword. Passed down to him by his father, the sword had been made for them by a Dwarfen Lord whose life had been saved by Fanghelms father during a battle. He had tested it on several captured orc warriors and each time the sword had cut cleanly through them.
The others at the table rose and nodded before making their way out of the hall. Fanghelm rose himself and headed back to his quarters for some rest. It had been too long since he'd lain with his wife.
* Beware the fury of a patient man.
* What's the point in being alive if you're not living?
* "But we can't be free, until we learn to laugh at ourselves. Once you look in the mirror and see just how foolish we can be, laughter is inevitable. And from laughter comes wisdom." - G'Kar, B5
* What's the point in being alive if you're not living?
* "But we can't be free, until we learn to laugh at ourselves. Once you look in the mirror and see just how foolish we can be, laughter is inevitable. And from laughter comes wisdom." - G'Kar, B5
Canada's Secret Weapon
Posts: 604
Joined: Sun Feb 16, 2003 9:39 am
Joined: Sun Feb 16, 2003 9:39 am
Location: The sunny beaches of Canada, where it's always Spring Break.
Contact:
The foreboding Stone Hall came into the Head General's vision as he strolled up the large rock stairway, making his way into the inner sanctum enjoyed by the Royal Family. A few Shadow Knights, the eternal protectors of the Rulers of Moriato, accompanied Hy. All were dressed in their traditional dark garments, with scarves around their faces. They said nothing to Hy as the party moved inwards into the hall.
The walls were decorated with lavish pieces of art and sculptures, paying homage to the ancient descendents who mined into the mountains and established the Kingdom. Some of the newer Knights were breathtaken on their first trip in, but the veteran ones quieted them down.
"You may stay here, I shall be out shortly," Hy remarked to one of the Shadow Knights, presumably their leader. The man nodded and led the others back to the entrance while the Head General knocked on the King's door.
"Come in."
The door opened as if by itself, allowing Hy into the large room. It was even more lavishly decorated than the entryway, but Hy was not astonished. He had been in the room many times, especially when.
"Greetings Brother. All is well I hope?" Hy asked as he sat at the table across from his brother.
A grim look appeared on the King's face at the question. "Problems with Timothy again, I'm afraid."
Hy shook his head. "He has too much of his Grandfather in him. I'd keep a close eye on him, if I were you."
Josef smiled despairingly as he looked away. "Why are you here, Hy?"
"I'm sure you know of the recent attacks by the Orcs against our Eastern mining colonies," Hy replied, continuing after receiving a nod from Josef, "and I would just like to go over some military strategies with you, milord.”
Josef got up from his chair and paced around the table. “Military strategies, brother? I had the impression these were just raids,” the King commented.
Hy shook his head. “I’ve looked over the past attacks and they seem to be mounting into something.”
“Like what?” Josef asked, his face full of concern.
“I…I don’t know, Josef,” Hy replied, looking away wearily.
“I see. The Orcs are foolish creatures; definitely not smart enough to amount to anything in particular. Your warnings are honorable Hy, but I must choose to unapprove of them. I’m sure you can show yourself out?”
Hy nodded and left the maps for his brother to look at. He left the room and Stone Hall with a brisk walk and before he knew it, the Shadow Knights surrounded him once again.
Away in another room in the Hall, laid another Moriato. Timothy’s eyes awoke to the familiar sight of his bedroom. He yawned as he hauled himself to a sitting position on the bed, putting a hand through his ruffled hair. It was not as straight as his brother’s was, or as shiny as his sister’s. In fact, it was hard to believe they were even in the same gene pool, they were so different. Alez had the broad shoulders and height of his father, while Liza had the beauty of their mother. Tim had nothing to his advantage, except his wits and charm.
He squinted as he adjusted to the darkness in his room, briefly seeing movement in the shadows. He had no doubt it was Jasen, his Shadow Knight.
“Is everything all right, My Prince?” the voice came from the darkness, with no visible body to it. Tim nodded and Jasen stayed hidden, melting in with the shadows as his ancestors had learnt to do centuries ago.
“I told you not to call me that, Jasen,” Tim replied as he got out of bed, searching for his clothes. Jasen suddenly appeared next to him, the clothes in his outreached arms. “Thanks,” Tim answered grudgingly, taking the clothes.
“My pleasure, My Prince.”
Tim sighed as he got his clothes on, and pulled out a travelling bag.
“Are we running away again, My Prince?” Jasen asked unemotionally.
“Yes we are, Jasen. I’m tired of this life my parents and everybody else put before me. I just wanta live out in the sun, with real people who don’t know me. Is that too much to ask?”
“Absolutely not, My Prince. I shall follow you until the end,” Jasen answered, bowing to his Lord.
“Yeah, yeah. Come on, let’s get going before anyone sees us.”
Tim wrapped himself in a simple travelling cloak he had bought the morning before at the market, and packed some provisions into the travelling pack. Jasen did likewise and they ventured out of the Stone Hall under the veil of darkness, no idea of what was ahead of them.
The walls were decorated with lavish pieces of art and sculptures, paying homage to the ancient descendents who mined into the mountains and established the Kingdom. Some of the newer Knights were breathtaken on their first trip in, but the veteran ones quieted them down.
"You may stay here, I shall be out shortly," Hy remarked to one of the Shadow Knights, presumably their leader. The man nodded and led the others back to the entrance while the Head General knocked on the King's door.
"Come in."
The door opened as if by itself, allowing Hy into the large room. It was even more lavishly decorated than the entryway, but Hy was not astonished. He had been in the room many times, especially when.
"Greetings Brother. All is well I hope?" Hy asked as he sat at the table across from his brother.
A grim look appeared on the King's face at the question. "Problems with Timothy again, I'm afraid."
Hy shook his head. "He has too much of his Grandfather in him. I'd keep a close eye on him, if I were you."
Josef smiled despairingly as he looked away. "Why are you here, Hy?"
"I'm sure you know of the recent attacks by the Orcs against our Eastern mining colonies," Hy replied, continuing after receiving a nod from Josef, "and I would just like to go over some military strategies with you, milord.”
Josef got up from his chair and paced around the table. “Military strategies, brother? I had the impression these were just raids,” the King commented.
Hy shook his head. “I’ve looked over the past attacks and they seem to be mounting into something.”
“Like what?” Josef asked, his face full of concern.
“I…I don’t know, Josef,” Hy replied, looking away wearily.
“I see. The Orcs are foolish creatures; definitely not smart enough to amount to anything in particular. Your warnings are honorable Hy, but I must choose to unapprove of them. I’m sure you can show yourself out?”
Hy nodded and left the maps for his brother to look at. He left the room and Stone Hall with a brisk walk and before he knew it, the Shadow Knights surrounded him once again.
Away in another room in the Hall, laid another Moriato. Timothy’s eyes awoke to the familiar sight of his bedroom. He yawned as he hauled himself to a sitting position on the bed, putting a hand through his ruffled hair. It was not as straight as his brother’s was, or as shiny as his sister’s. In fact, it was hard to believe they were even in the same gene pool, they were so different. Alez had the broad shoulders and height of his father, while Liza had the beauty of their mother. Tim had nothing to his advantage, except his wits and charm.
He squinted as he adjusted to the darkness in his room, briefly seeing movement in the shadows. He had no doubt it was Jasen, his Shadow Knight.
“Is everything all right, My Prince?” the voice came from the darkness, with no visible body to it. Tim nodded and Jasen stayed hidden, melting in with the shadows as his ancestors had learnt to do centuries ago.
“I told you not to call me that, Jasen,” Tim replied as he got out of bed, searching for his clothes. Jasen suddenly appeared next to him, the clothes in his outreached arms. “Thanks,” Tim answered grudgingly, taking the clothes.
“My pleasure, My Prince.”
Tim sighed as he got his clothes on, and pulled out a travelling bag.
“Are we running away again, My Prince?” Jasen asked unemotionally.
“Yes we are, Jasen. I’m tired of this life my parents and everybody else put before me. I just wanta live out in the sun, with real people who don’t know me. Is that too much to ask?”
“Absolutely not, My Prince. I shall follow you until the end,” Jasen answered, bowing to his Lord.
“Yeah, yeah. Come on, let’s get going before anyone sees us.”
Tim wrapped himself in a simple travelling cloak he had bought the morning before at the market, and packed some provisions into the travelling pack. Jasen did likewise and they ventured out of the Stone Hall under the veil of darkness, no idea of what was ahead of them.
The only difference between good and evil is an opinion.
El Kamino
Lorwen Heights, the capital of the Kingdom of Lorwenho and home to five percent of the kingdom's population. Built on a series of high-rise hills in the center of the kingdom's domains, Lorwen Heights contained five walled levels with one higher than the previous one. All sides of the hills rose to a single point on top of Lorwen Heights: the residence of the Lorwenho royal family. Flags atop the hill fluttered in the blowing wind from the west. From this residence, one could easily the rushing Mulfarnan River flowing to the south and west in the direction of the Western Seas. At a distance of only one kilometer away, the reidents of Lorwen Heights and its outer villages had access to an abundant source of water.
In the distance, a dark and wide line of what seemed like walking locusts were heading towards the city from the south. Bearing the flags of Gerlonem, the City of Mountains, the line of cavalry and footmen made its way slowly in the direction of the hilly plains, crossing the Mulfarnan River. As seen from a window facing the mountains of the south, one would think that a terrible occurrence has happened.
Alerted by the appearance of the armies of Gerlonem, Prince Galantas rose from his studies and looked out the window of his room. Feeling the rush through his veins, he ran out of his room and into the Great Hall. "Mother! An army is approaching from the south! I see the banners of Gerlonem!" Galantas's call caught the attention of his mother, Queen Madulia. She looked up from her seat in the throne of Lorwenho beside he seat of her husband, who has been absent for a week on a visit to Hosmilgard.
"Thank you, my son," Madulia smiled. She turned to Nauthor, First Regent of Lorwenho, and ordered him, "Lord Nauthor, send out sentries toward the approaching army and learn of their intents. No doubt they are peaceful, but I do not want to take chances while my husband is away."
Nauthor knelt in front of Madulia and crossed his right arm to his left shoulder. "Immediately, Milady." Nauthor rose by himself, turned around, and left the room with haste.
In the distance, across the Mulfarna River and above the hills, the flags of Lorwen Heights could be seen fluttering in the wind. Andurman, Regent of Gerlonem rode at the front of the approaching army of footmen, archers, and cavalry. Dressed in armor, Andurman and his horse seemed prepared for battle. Indeed, they are prepared for battle, but not with his own rulers at Lorwen Heights. Their purpose was something he had devised on his own and required the approval of the King and Queen.
As Andurman rode above a hill that gave him a wide view of the valley below Lorwen Heights, he saw five sentry riders with their leader riding horses with great speeds, crossing the wide river. There was no doubt in Andurman's mind that the King would only like to understand the meaning of armies approaching without warning. He took his right hand off the reins of his horse and held it up, signaling for the company to stop. He himself pulled back the reins of his horse and waited for the arrival of the sentries, bearing the banners of Lorwen Heights.
When the sentries rode up the hill thye were on, they reduced their speed as the army came into view. Andurman realized as the sentries approached that they had been led by First Regent Nauthor. Both pulled their horses to face each other. "Regent Nauthor, a pleasure to meet you."
"As I you, Regent," Nauthor responded with acknowledgement. "May I ask what is your purpose of bringing an army into the capital without foreword?"
"My Lord, I have come to bestow the King with blessings of the people of Gerlonem," Andurman began carefully, "and to ask of him of a venture that I wish to undergo."
"And what is this venture?"
"You will hear it when I speak to the King, Regent," Andurman replied with respect.
"Very well," Nauthor nodded. "However, the King is currently absent from the capital. He rode out to Hosmilgard one week past. No doubt you would not have known that, for the distance between Hosmilgard and Gerlonem is even greater."
"Is the Queen or the Prince available then?" Andurman proposed.
"Yes. If you wish, I will take you to them, but please leave your army outside the city walls," Nauthor suggested.
"I will, Regent," Andurman confirmed. "Please, lead the way."
Nauthor ordered his horse and the sentries to turn around. Meanwhile, Andurman ordered his army to continue their march towards Lorwenho and across the Mulfarna River, led by Nauthor and his sentries.
In the distance, a dark and wide line of what seemed like walking locusts were heading towards the city from the south. Bearing the flags of Gerlonem, the City of Mountains, the line of cavalry and footmen made its way slowly in the direction of the hilly plains, crossing the Mulfarnan River. As seen from a window facing the mountains of the south, one would think that a terrible occurrence has happened.
Alerted by the appearance of the armies of Gerlonem, Prince Galantas rose from his studies and looked out the window of his room. Feeling the rush through his veins, he ran out of his room and into the Great Hall. "Mother! An army is approaching from the south! I see the banners of Gerlonem!" Galantas's call caught the attention of his mother, Queen Madulia. She looked up from her seat in the throne of Lorwenho beside he seat of her husband, who has been absent for a week on a visit to Hosmilgard.
"Thank you, my son," Madulia smiled. She turned to Nauthor, First Regent of Lorwenho, and ordered him, "Lord Nauthor, send out sentries toward the approaching army and learn of their intents. No doubt they are peaceful, but I do not want to take chances while my husband is away."
Nauthor knelt in front of Madulia and crossed his right arm to his left shoulder. "Immediately, Milady." Nauthor rose by himself, turned around, and left the room with haste.
In the distance, across the Mulfarna River and above the hills, the flags of Lorwen Heights could be seen fluttering in the wind. Andurman, Regent of Gerlonem rode at the front of the approaching army of footmen, archers, and cavalry. Dressed in armor, Andurman and his horse seemed prepared for battle. Indeed, they are prepared for battle, but not with his own rulers at Lorwen Heights. Their purpose was something he had devised on his own and required the approval of the King and Queen.
As Andurman rode above a hill that gave him a wide view of the valley below Lorwen Heights, he saw five sentry riders with their leader riding horses with great speeds, crossing the wide river. There was no doubt in Andurman's mind that the King would only like to understand the meaning of armies approaching without warning. He took his right hand off the reins of his horse and held it up, signaling for the company to stop. He himself pulled back the reins of his horse and waited for the arrival of the sentries, bearing the banners of Lorwen Heights.
When the sentries rode up the hill thye were on, they reduced their speed as the army came into view. Andurman realized as the sentries approached that they had been led by First Regent Nauthor. Both pulled their horses to face each other. "Regent Nauthor, a pleasure to meet you."
"As I you, Regent," Nauthor responded with acknowledgement. "May I ask what is your purpose of bringing an army into the capital without foreword?"
"My Lord, I have come to bestow the King with blessings of the people of Gerlonem," Andurman began carefully, "and to ask of him of a venture that I wish to undergo."
"And what is this venture?"
"You will hear it when I speak to the King, Regent," Andurman replied with respect.
"Very well," Nauthor nodded. "However, the King is currently absent from the capital. He rode out to Hosmilgard one week past. No doubt you would not have known that, for the distance between Hosmilgard and Gerlonem is even greater."
"Is the Queen or the Prince available then?" Andurman proposed.
"Yes. If you wish, I will take you to them, but please leave your army outside the city walls," Nauthor suggested.
"I will, Regent," Andurman confirmed. "Please, lead the way."
Nauthor ordered his horse and the sentries to turn around. Meanwhile, Andurman ordered his army to continue their march towards Lorwenho and across the Mulfarna River, led by Nauthor and his sentries.
El Kamino
The horses moved carefully through the northeastern marshes in the shadow of the Kelbard Tower. Covered with fog and mist, added with the cloudy skies, the marshes seemed like an eerie place to be in, especially when one is alone. The lightly equipped horses of Kelbard Tower's scouts made their way with near silence, making sure that each horse step through the muddy waters did not alert the source of the noises. The grunts and huffs became clearer as the five riders neared the creature assumed as a troll. As they stepped one more pace forward, they were able to see the outlines of the creature.
It was indeed a troll, a small one. It seemed as if it was crouching down, digging into the ground, perhaps searching for food. The lead scout signaled for the other riders to circle the troll. They spread out away from their leader and went around the troll to take their positions. When the leader felt by his instincts that his men have taken positions, he prepared his bow and two arrows. Still holding them in one hand, he put the other one into his mouth and signaled with a whistle. One second later, the troll could be heard screaming in pain. Another second brought about the arrival of the leader's two arrows. With ten arrows now in the troll's body, it attempted to rise up and meet his opponents, but the size of the troll made it weak. It was not yet a full-grown troll, which made the leader wonder even more how it got there.
He and the other riders carefully approached the troll that had now dropped to the ground. It seemed to weak to move, though it was still alive. "Bag the troll," the leader ordered. "Sarlanda has to see this."
In the chambers of the Hosmilgard Council, King Feórian sat at the end of the chambers with Lumparhal and Kuntárian at his side. The room was not as bright as Feórian would have liked it. The only source of light was the pouring sunlight that was partially blocked by curtains on the windows of the Council chamber. As a normal council would, this one was quite rowdy, with its members shouting at each other fifteen different debates. It was the pastime of the leading members of the kingdom.
Finally, Lumparhal rose to his feet and slapped his hand on the table in front of him. "Councilmen! Please, restrain yourselves!" Within seconds, the Council chamber had quieted down, with all eyes fixed on the King and his aides. "Who shall make the first report?"
A man in rugged outfits and bare armor rose and made his way to the center of the chamber. "May it please the King that Yulanga, representative of the people of Kulmaria to Hosmilgard, has come to bid your audience."
"Rise, Yulanga," Feórian said. "What news do you bring me?"
"Milord, the people of Kulmaria are happy to inform you that our timbers have been continuously flowing downriver to Hosmilgard for the construction of our fifteenth galleon. The ship shall be completed within two weeks' time and shall be sent to aid the patrol of the Newru Islands."
"An excellent news indeed," Feórian agreed. "Inform your people that they will receive a reward upon my return to the capital for the hard work of your villagers."
"Thank you, Your Excellency," Yulanga bowed, backing to his table.
A middle-aged man rose from the right table. He was in full armor with a cape flowing down one side of his chest and back. His mustache was well-trimmed and gave him the appearance of a stubborn warrior. Moving to the empty floor in front of the King, he knelt on one knee. "May it please the King that Lord Sabadan of the northern mountains has come to bid your audience."
Feórian extended a hand in the direction of Sabadan and indicated for him to rise. "Rise, Lord Sabadan. What news do you bring me?"
"Your Majesty," Sabadan began, "our armies have made occasional ventures up and down the northern mountains and to the other side of the Harbors of Jukorn. In our sentries, we have found that the Kingdom of Moriato remains secluded in their mountainous region. We have not made any contact with any of their outer villages in over a decade."
"What do you suggest, Lord Sabadan?" Feórian asked with intent.
"Milord, I propose that we send an envoy to their capital, which I knew last to be Teechini, to reestablish relations with their kingdom."
"Why Moriato, Sabadan?" Feórian asked. "Why should it not be the Kingdom of Quidoma that we reestablish relations with? All our alliances have broken apart. Would it not be wise to reinstate them all at the same time?"
"My apologies, Excellency. I believe that reestablishing contact with Moriato first would give us permission to sail north of the coast to the shores of Moriato. In that manner, we would be able to suppress pirate activities even more than we had done before. Of course, we would need a full naval force to be able to effectively patrol the shores of Moriato, but we would be able to do so given time and resources."
Feórian lowered his head and considered Sabadan's proposal. Of course, his proposal did make its point. Gaining access to Moriato's shores would decrease the chance that pirate bases would be established there. But would it be wise to reestablished contact with a kingdom that has not made contact in over a decade? Feórian considered this carefully. His belief has always been to make contact in the best interest of the people of Lorwenho. It must mean so if it would reduce pirate activity.
"Very well, Sabadan," Feórian agreed wholeheartedly. "Take your cavalry and archers and make for the Budos Pass. Ride north to the gates of Moriato and make contact with Teechini. I expect that will be ready and leave in two days' time."
Sabadan was soon filled with a great feeling that he had been appointed as the representative of the kingdom to Moriato. He took another bow and thanked the King. "Lord Sabadan thanks the King for his wisdom. I will ride out in two days."
"Go, son of Lorwenho," Feórian said. Sabadan bowed and left the Council's chamber with several men who apparently were his generals.
It was indeed a troll, a small one. It seemed as if it was crouching down, digging into the ground, perhaps searching for food. The lead scout signaled for the other riders to circle the troll. They spread out away from their leader and went around the troll to take their positions. When the leader felt by his instincts that his men have taken positions, he prepared his bow and two arrows. Still holding them in one hand, he put the other one into his mouth and signaled with a whistle. One second later, the troll could be heard screaming in pain. Another second brought about the arrival of the leader's two arrows. With ten arrows now in the troll's body, it attempted to rise up and meet his opponents, but the size of the troll made it weak. It was not yet a full-grown troll, which made the leader wonder even more how it got there.
He and the other riders carefully approached the troll that had now dropped to the ground. It seemed to weak to move, though it was still alive. "Bag the troll," the leader ordered. "Sarlanda has to see this."
In the chambers of the Hosmilgard Council, King Feórian sat at the end of the chambers with Lumparhal and Kuntárian at his side. The room was not as bright as Feórian would have liked it. The only source of light was the pouring sunlight that was partially blocked by curtains on the windows of the Council chamber. As a normal council would, this one was quite rowdy, with its members shouting at each other fifteen different debates. It was the pastime of the leading members of the kingdom.
Finally, Lumparhal rose to his feet and slapped his hand on the table in front of him. "Councilmen! Please, restrain yourselves!" Within seconds, the Council chamber had quieted down, with all eyes fixed on the King and his aides. "Who shall make the first report?"
A man in rugged outfits and bare armor rose and made his way to the center of the chamber. "May it please the King that Yulanga, representative of the people of Kulmaria to Hosmilgard, has come to bid your audience."
"Rise, Yulanga," Feórian said. "What news do you bring me?"
"Milord, the people of Kulmaria are happy to inform you that our timbers have been continuously flowing downriver to Hosmilgard for the construction of our fifteenth galleon. The ship shall be completed within two weeks' time and shall be sent to aid the patrol of the Newru Islands."
"An excellent news indeed," Feórian agreed. "Inform your people that they will receive a reward upon my return to the capital for the hard work of your villagers."
"Thank you, Your Excellency," Yulanga bowed, backing to his table.
A middle-aged man rose from the right table. He was in full armor with a cape flowing down one side of his chest and back. His mustache was well-trimmed and gave him the appearance of a stubborn warrior. Moving to the empty floor in front of the King, he knelt on one knee. "May it please the King that Lord Sabadan of the northern mountains has come to bid your audience."
Feórian extended a hand in the direction of Sabadan and indicated for him to rise. "Rise, Lord Sabadan. What news do you bring me?"
"Your Majesty," Sabadan began, "our armies have made occasional ventures up and down the northern mountains and to the other side of the Harbors of Jukorn. In our sentries, we have found that the Kingdom of Moriato remains secluded in their mountainous region. We have not made any contact with any of their outer villages in over a decade."
"What do you suggest, Lord Sabadan?" Feórian asked with intent.
"Milord, I propose that we send an envoy to their capital, which I knew last to be Teechini, to reestablish relations with their kingdom."
"Why Moriato, Sabadan?" Feórian asked. "Why should it not be the Kingdom of Quidoma that we reestablish relations with? All our alliances have broken apart. Would it not be wise to reinstate them all at the same time?"
"My apologies, Excellency. I believe that reestablishing contact with Moriato first would give us permission to sail north of the coast to the shores of Moriato. In that manner, we would be able to suppress pirate activities even more than we had done before. Of course, we would need a full naval force to be able to effectively patrol the shores of Moriato, but we would be able to do so given time and resources."
Feórian lowered his head and considered Sabadan's proposal. Of course, his proposal did make its point. Gaining access to Moriato's shores would decrease the chance that pirate bases would be established there. But would it be wise to reestablished contact with a kingdom that has not made contact in over a decade? Feórian considered this carefully. His belief has always been to make contact in the best interest of the people of Lorwenho. It must mean so if it would reduce pirate activity.
"Very well, Sabadan," Feórian agreed wholeheartedly. "Take your cavalry and archers and make for the Budos Pass. Ride north to the gates of Moriato and make contact with Teechini. I expect that will be ready and leave in two days' time."
Sabadan was soon filled with a great feeling that he had been appointed as the representative of the kingdom to Moriato. He took another bow and thanked the King. "Lord Sabadan thanks the King for his wisdom. I will ride out in two days."
"Go, son of Lorwenho," Feórian said. Sabadan bowed and left the Council's chamber with several men who apparently were his generals.
The wind gently blew across Alatariel’s face. Walking to where she saw her sister’s spirit, she knelt down and tap the waters surface with her finger. Softly touching her shoulder, her sister appeared as though she had never died. Beautiful in appearance and with the most sweet voice, Larien whispered, “ It is time now sister. The age of the Elves is passing and the world as you know it is going to end. You must forgive Man.”
Alatariel took a step back and looked into the water, “ Man are greedy. They will fight between each other and destroy one another. You cannot trust them.”
Larien walked up to the waters edge as well, however she did not have a reflection like her sister. “ Why is it so hard for you sister? You are the most powerful Elf in all the realms; has power and arrogance possessed you?”
“No”, Alatariel looked into her sister’s eyes, “ You were betrayed by them. I was betrayed by them. All they feel is lust, nothing more.”
“You cannot blame my death on the nature of one man. There are many good Men on Earth..”
“I will have to see that for myself. For now, the willows still weep for you, as do all my people,” Alatariel rebuked.
Smiling at her sister, Larien took three steps back, “Farewell sister. Before the break of day after the full moon, hope in Man will be restored to you.” Fading away, Larien’s whispered,” Do not weep for me anymore sister, I chose my destiny. . . goodbye. . .”
Alatariel took a step back and looked into the water, “ Man are greedy. They will fight between each other and destroy one another. You cannot trust them.”
Larien walked up to the waters edge as well, however she did not have a reflection like her sister. “ Why is it so hard for you sister? You are the most powerful Elf in all the realms; has power and arrogance possessed you?”
“No”, Alatariel looked into her sister’s eyes, “ You were betrayed by them. I was betrayed by them. All they feel is lust, nothing more.”
“You cannot blame my death on the nature of one man. There are many good Men on Earth..”
“I will have to see that for myself. For now, the willows still weep for you, as do all my people,” Alatariel rebuked.
Smiling at her sister, Larien took three steps back, “Farewell sister. Before the break of day after the full moon, hope in Man will be restored to you.” Fading away, Larien’s whispered,” Do not weep for me anymore sister, I chose my destiny. . . goodbye. . .”
False Dichotomy
Posts: 4416
Joined: Mon Mar 10, 2003 10:55 am
Joined: Mon Mar 10, 2003 10:55 am
Two war wagon trundled across the open plain, each surrounded by nearly three hundred warriors - half the military strength of the Hesedd clan. Their pace was disciplined and their weapons of top quality. Iron and steel glinted in the moonlight.
Ahead of each marching band rode thirty Goblins fluent in the tongues of Wargs. The gigantic wolves were sentient, or at least partially so, but they accepted these riders willingly. The riders carried three thick javelins apiece in addition to their personal weapons.
The wagons were solidly crafted affairs pulled by four trolls apiece, three more than absolutely necessary. In addition to large quantities of assorted arrows, they carried food and immense low-ceilinged tents. When day broke, they would be pitched to shield the Goblins and trolls from the sun.
The Plains of the Kings loomed ahead. Since several days' hard run past Gerlonem, they had forsaken the secrecy of the mountain tunnels, judging themselves safe from prying eyes. The Wargs scouted often. Torehnt was sure that they had gone undetected in their taking of the shortcut through Lorwenho.
The first war party was bound for the long stretch of mountains that spun off south from Quidoma. From there they would turn north. Their travels would become slower and stealthier. It was likely going to take them just under three weeks. They would avoid not only Men but the resident Orcs - and Goblins, especially these ones, had always been better suited to mountains than either.
A village named Varant would be their first target. As with most Goblin operations, they would strike at night, and in the dark Goblins and Orcs were almost impossible to differentiate between. Goblin and Orc tactics and weapons were identical, especially since these warriors bore top-quality arms of the sort mountainous Orc tribes wielded. Any wounded or dead would be removed to prevent identification as Turici, rather than Orcs. In short, they would create the effective illusion that Orc hostilities had drastically increased. Knowing that Orcs would be responding to the call for chaos, that increase would be from bad to far, far worse.
And in the event that this coincided with an actual major Orc offensive, the illusion would be absolutely impenetrable.
The second party would go much farther north over a period approaching six weeks. Stealth would be their main weapon as they crept up past Elvish lands to near the territory of Dwarves, there to ambush convoys and leave carefully chosen traces that stated emphatically that the Men of Quidoma and none else were to blame. That was the first stage of their mission. Afterwards, other missions would be carried out, but that would come with time.
Ahead of each marching band rode thirty Goblins fluent in the tongues of Wargs. The gigantic wolves were sentient, or at least partially so, but they accepted these riders willingly. The riders carried three thick javelins apiece in addition to their personal weapons.
The wagons were solidly crafted affairs pulled by four trolls apiece, three more than absolutely necessary. In addition to large quantities of assorted arrows, they carried food and immense low-ceilinged tents. When day broke, they would be pitched to shield the Goblins and trolls from the sun.
The Plains of the Kings loomed ahead. Since several days' hard run past Gerlonem, they had forsaken the secrecy of the mountain tunnels, judging themselves safe from prying eyes. The Wargs scouted often. Torehnt was sure that they had gone undetected in their taking of the shortcut through Lorwenho.
The first war party was bound for the long stretch of mountains that spun off south from Quidoma. From there they would turn north. Their travels would become slower and stealthier. It was likely going to take them just under three weeks. They would avoid not only Men but the resident Orcs - and Goblins, especially these ones, had always been better suited to mountains than either.
A village named Varant would be their first target. As with most Goblin operations, they would strike at night, and in the dark Goblins and Orcs were almost impossible to differentiate between. Goblin and Orc tactics and weapons were identical, especially since these warriors bore top-quality arms of the sort mountainous Orc tribes wielded. Any wounded or dead would be removed to prevent identification as Turici, rather than Orcs. In short, they would create the effective illusion that Orc hostilities had drastically increased. Knowing that Orcs would be responding to the call for chaos, that increase would be from bad to far, far worse.
And in the event that this coincided with an actual major Orc offensive, the illusion would be absolutely impenetrable.
The second party would go much farther north over a period approaching six weeks. Stealth would be their main weapon as they crept up past Elvish lands to near the territory of Dwarves, there to ambush convoys and leave carefully chosen traces that stated emphatically that the Men of Quidoma and none else were to blame. That was the first stage of their mission. Afterwards, other missions would be carried out, but that would come with time.
Ave Imperator
Posts: 2216
Joined: Sun Feb 16, 2003 9:46 pm
Joined: Sun Feb 16, 2003 9:46 pm
Location: Wherever I May Roam
Contact:
ic:
Kingdom of Quidoma - Deep in the Montoma Mountains
Dante adn the Montomes rode alongside the Benavlo Pass constantly watching the orc movements below them. They came to a fork in the pass, the northern pass led to their destination of Ruathorn, the western pass led back into the Montoma Mountains where the orc thrived.
However, it wasn't quiet at all, coming up the western pass was a full battalion of orcs with wagons full of explosives. "Dante," it was Dante's friend Rondon, "we have to do something here, theres no way we can fight an orc army two battalions strong, even with Ruathorn's warriors."
Dante turned to Rondon, "You're right, friend, we will set up furthur up the pass I want all archers to aim for those wagons, not only will it take away they're firepower but it will take out some orcs with it."
Furthur up the pass was a ledge that overlooked the pass, a perfect position for the ambush. Dante signaled for his men to set up, ad they awaited the orc army to come down the pass. Minutes passed and the orc made their way through the pass. As soon as they were right in the middle he gave the signal and the archers unleashed their arrows. Thewagons exploded in a brillant fireball. Most of the orc around them were killed in the explosion. The trolls however were still fine, each troll headed for wither side of the pass and started to club at the walls of the mountains.
Any of Dante's men who were near them were knocked from their hiding spots and attacked by the remaining orcs. Rondon turned to Dante, "We must take out those trolls," he said to him. "Have the archers set up another volley." Dante ordered him. Rondon signaled the archers and whithin second the sound of whizzing arrows filled the air. Each of the arrows hit a troll, althought there were over 200 arrows, only three trolls died.
"Montomes! Keep moving, we must reach Ruathorn!" Dante shouted. All the remaining soldiers mounted their horses and rode off down the northern pass. We must make it in time to warn them, Dante thought.
Kingdom of Quidoma - Yavantha, Capitol City
King Felagund sat on his throne in the great palace in the city of Yavantha, he had many report in front of him about every single attack so far and the news of the orcish force headed for Ruathorn.
Commander Vlando walked into the throne room, his armor clinking as he walked. "Commander Vlando, we must speak." King Felagund said, "Anything, my leige," Vlando answered. "This force of orcs moving for Ruathorn, have you sent messengers to warn them of it?" Felagund asked. "I sent the Montomes and also a small force from one of our outlying camps will be there within the next day."
King Felagund spun around, "You what?" Vlando looked confused. "My lord, the size of the force was too big for Ruathorn to handle alone, it is obvious that we need to send aid in the form of men, not words."
"I am having enough trouble protecting our own borders from the orcs in the mountains, the southern villages of Rejan and Varant are open for anyone to claim, if the orcs are going to Ruathorn then let them go, it means that we do not have to worry about them anymore." King Felagund walked right up to Vlando, "I want you to call off the order for the camp to attack and send men to the southern villages for protection."
Vlando stood up to face Felagund face to face, "Never in my lifetime would I think I would see a King who would let the world around him be destroyed just to keep himself safe." "COMMANDER! YOU WILL FOLLOW THAT ORDER!" King Felagund was yelling at this point.
"I'm afraid I can't do that," Vlando withdrew his ceremonial sword given to him when he was given the rank of Commander. He looked King Felagund in the eyes. "You want the southern front protected?" He slammed the sword into the wooden box beside the throne, "Defend it yourself."
He then turned and walked out fo teh throne room and to his troops. King Felagund was right behind him. "I hearby banish you from my court, Oxmeeli Vlando! Never return to this place again under the penalty of death!"
"Men, we ride for Kinsalvo." he said to his men, a resounding, "Hurrah" filled the air. Then he and his men headed out of Yavantha and towards Kinsalvo, the Mountain Citadel.
Kingdom of Quidoma - Deep in the Montoma Mountains
Dante adn the Montomes rode alongside the Benavlo Pass constantly watching the orc movements below them. They came to a fork in the pass, the northern pass led to their destination of Ruathorn, the western pass led back into the Montoma Mountains where the orc thrived.
However, it wasn't quiet at all, coming up the western pass was a full battalion of orcs with wagons full of explosives. "Dante," it was Dante's friend Rondon, "we have to do something here, theres no way we can fight an orc army two battalions strong, even with Ruathorn's warriors."
Dante turned to Rondon, "You're right, friend, we will set up furthur up the pass I want all archers to aim for those wagons, not only will it take away they're firepower but it will take out some orcs with it."
Furthur up the pass was a ledge that overlooked the pass, a perfect position for the ambush. Dante signaled for his men to set up, ad they awaited the orc army to come down the pass. Minutes passed and the orc made their way through the pass. As soon as they were right in the middle he gave the signal and the archers unleashed their arrows. Thewagons exploded in a brillant fireball. Most of the orc around them were killed in the explosion. The trolls however were still fine, each troll headed for wither side of the pass and started to club at the walls of the mountains.
Any of Dante's men who were near them were knocked from their hiding spots and attacked by the remaining orcs. Rondon turned to Dante, "We must take out those trolls," he said to him. "Have the archers set up another volley." Dante ordered him. Rondon signaled the archers and whithin second the sound of whizzing arrows filled the air. Each of the arrows hit a troll, althought there were over 200 arrows, only three trolls died.
"Montomes! Keep moving, we must reach Ruathorn!" Dante shouted. All the remaining soldiers mounted their horses and rode off down the northern pass. We must make it in time to warn them, Dante thought.
Kingdom of Quidoma - Yavantha, Capitol City
King Felagund sat on his throne in the great palace in the city of Yavantha, he had many report in front of him about every single attack so far and the news of the orcish force headed for Ruathorn.
Commander Vlando walked into the throne room, his armor clinking as he walked. "Commander Vlando, we must speak." King Felagund said, "Anything, my leige," Vlando answered. "This force of orcs moving for Ruathorn, have you sent messengers to warn them of it?" Felagund asked. "I sent the Montomes and also a small force from one of our outlying camps will be there within the next day."
King Felagund spun around, "You what?" Vlando looked confused. "My lord, the size of the force was too big for Ruathorn to handle alone, it is obvious that we need to send aid in the form of men, not words."
"I am having enough trouble protecting our own borders from the orcs in the mountains, the southern villages of Rejan and Varant are open for anyone to claim, if the orcs are going to Ruathorn then let them go, it means that we do not have to worry about them anymore." King Felagund walked right up to Vlando, "I want you to call off the order for the camp to attack and send men to the southern villages for protection."
Vlando stood up to face Felagund face to face, "Never in my lifetime would I think I would see a King who would let the world around him be destroyed just to keep himself safe." "COMMANDER! YOU WILL FOLLOW THAT ORDER!" King Felagund was yelling at this point.
"I'm afraid I can't do that," Vlando withdrew his ceremonial sword given to him when he was given the rank of Commander. He looked King Felagund in the eyes. "You want the southern front protected?" He slammed the sword into the wooden box beside the throne, "Defend it yourself."
He then turned and walked out fo teh throne room and to his troops. King Felagund was right behind him. "I hearby banish you from my court, Oxmeeli Vlando! Never return to this place again under the penalty of death!"
"Men, we ride for Kinsalvo." he said to his men, a resounding, "Hurrah" filled the air. Then he and his men headed out of Yavantha and towards Kinsalvo, the Mountain Citadel.
McCaffery: There are creatures in the deep you couldn't imagine in your worst nightmares.
Arthur 'AC' Curry: Oh thats reassuring. Thanks a lot.
"When someone stands in the way of justice, you simply walk up behind them and stab them in the heart" Ras Al-Gul - Batman Begins
Arthur 'AC' Curry: Oh thats reassuring. Thanks a lot.
"When someone stands in the way of justice, you simply walk up behind them and stab them in the heart" Ras Al-Gul - Batman Begins
I am Spartacus
Posts: 3316
Joined: Thu Feb 20, 2003 3:15 am
Joined: Thu Feb 20, 2003 3:15 am
Location: Somewhere between madness & genius
In spite of the importance of their task, they six of them rode a moderate pace, after all once they'd encountered the orcs, they had to return ahead of them.
At the head of the group rode Rain (pr: Rah-een)the kings son and alongside rode Krun, telling the young man of some of the battles he had fought and even showing him a sword technique or two along the way. The other four seemed contented enough to ride quietly occasionally joining in a few songs or tales of their trial days when they were becoming men.
One of the riders, an aging man by the name of Belrand had a son who was undertaking the rites of passage the coming spring. For the occasion, the cities master blacksmith, who happened to be a great friend of the man, had commisioned a personalised sword to be made for his son, fashioned after the one Ruathorn himself was said to have wielded.
It was mid day when the stopped, atop one of the many foothills of the mountains that Miarsta was nestled in. The city was shielded from view by the growing shadows as well as some hills, but they had travelled enough to know the direction their capital was in.
A little to the right of the capital was the mountain in which the Hall of Kings was. They reigned the horses in and turned to the hall, unsheathing and raising their swords in memories of their countrymen who had passed before before riding down the hill to a small collection of rocks mid way up the north side of the next hill. There they decided to pitch camp and set a fire. Krun and Belrand set out with their bows and returned an hour later with a fine deer.
The foothills and plains below Miarsta had a great deal of animal life which made travelling through the land all the easier. Cooking some of the meat for dinner, they cut the rest into centimetre thick long slices and, after covering them with some spices, wrapped them in some leaves of a native plant which helped preserve the meat and also imbue it with a spicier taste when cooked.
"My father seems to be somewhat troubled of late. He spends more and more time consulting with that accursed shamen and less time talking with his true advisors and friends. I fear that the shamen may end up controlling our nation more than it's rightful king."
If he were not the king and he not amoungst the company he was with, the others would have been within their rights to kill him for implying the King was so weak. But they must have agreed in part for they murmered as such and continued to eat.
"Aye lad, the shamen is a strange one indeed, but Fanghelm is no fool and would not trust the shamens word if he didn't believe it to be worth such a gift" spoke Krun as he drank some from a wineskin. "But we are about the King and should the shamen try anything he will find his head somewhat lacking in a base eh?"
Krun laughed his deep deep laugh and the others joined in. Rain laughed too but the thought of someone like the shamen betraying or even killing his father was unsettling.
***********************************************************
Back in Miarsta, the messengers to the various towns and villages throughout the nation were being dispatched including the one to the Dwarves. Most of the Kings houshold had retired early for they were departing early the next day to the great Muster.
In a private chamber the King sat with the shamen consulting maps and charts, while the shamen muttered arcane and strange words over charts and runes of his own. Fanghelm had little interest in such things, and he too doubted the shamen at times, but so far he had not been proved wrong in what he had told.
"I am tired shamen and I desire rest. Consult your runes, and speak with me come morning."
The shamen didn't turn for a moment until Fanghelm rose up, and all of a sudden he threw his rune stones up in the air, spreading them across the table in the room and onto the floor.
"There is a great danger coming Lord Fanghelm, one within your own Kingdom that will end your reign over this land. Trust least of all those who you would call your own, but look to strange eyes for hope."
Fanghelm listened intently as the shamen spoke, but as the strange figure stopped and started muttering to himself again he left and headed to his room for rest.
At the head of the group rode Rain (pr: Rah-een)the kings son and alongside rode Krun, telling the young man of some of the battles he had fought and even showing him a sword technique or two along the way. The other four seemed contented enough to ride quietly occasionally joining in a few songs or tales of their trial days when they were becoming men.
One of the riders, an aging man by the name of Belrand had a son who was undertaking the rites of passage the coming spring. For the occasion, the cities master blacksmith, who happened to be a great friend of the man, had commisioned a personalised sword to be made for his son, fashioned after the one Ruathorn himself was said to have wielded.
It was mid day when the stopped, atop one of the many foothills of the mountains that Miarsta was nestled in. The city was shielded from view by the growing shadows as well as some hills, but they had travelled enough to know the direction their capital was in.
A little to the right of the capital was the mountain in which the Hall of Kings was. They reigned the horses in and turned to the hall, unsheathing and raising their swords in memories of their countrymen who had passed before before riding down the hill to a small collection of rocks mid way up the north side of the next hill. There they decided to pitch camp and set a fire. Krun and Belrand set out with their bows and returned an hour later with a fine deer.
The foothills and plains below Miarsta had a great deal of animal life which made travelling through the land all the easier. Cooking some of the meat for dinner, they cut the rest into centimetre thick long slices and, after covering them with some spices, wrapped them in some leaves of a native plant which helped preserve the meat and also imbue it with a spicier taste when cooked.
"My father seems to be somewhat troubled of late. He spends more and more time consulting with that accursed shamen and less time talking with his true advisors and friends. I fear that the shamen may end up controlling our nation more than it's rightful king."
If he were not the king and he not amoungst the company he was with, the others would have been within their rights to kill him for implying the King was so weak. But they must have agreed in part for they murmered as such and continued to eat.
"Aye lad, the shamen is a strange one indeed, but Fanghelm is no fool and would not trust the shamens word if he didn't believe it to be worth such a gift" spoke Krun as he drank some from a wineskin. "But we are about the King and should the shamen try anything he will find his head somewhat lacking in a base eh?"
Krun laughed his deep deep laugh and the others joined in. Rain laughed too but the thought of someone like the shamen betraying or even killing his father was unsettling.
***********************************************************
Back in Miarsta, the messengers to the various towns and villages throughout the nation were being dispatched including the one to the Dwarves. Most of the Kings houshold had retired early for they were departing early the next day to the great Muster.
In a private chamber the King sat with the shamen consulting maps and charts, while the shamen muttered arcane and strange words over charts and runes of his own. Fanghelm had little interest in such things, and he too doubted the shamen at times, but so far he had not been proved wrong in what he had told.
"I am tired shamen and I desire rest. Consult your runes, and speak with me come morning."
The shamen didn't turn for a moment until Fanghelm rose up, and all of a sudden he threw his rune stones up in the air, spreading them across the table in the room and onto the floor.
"There is a great danger coming Lord Fanghelm, one within your own Kingdom that will end your reign over this land. Trust least of all those who you would call your own, but look to strange eyes for hope."
Fanghelm listened intently as the shamen spoke, but as the strange figure stopped and started muttering to himself again he left and headed to his room for rest.
* Beware the fury of a patient man.
* What's the point in being alive if you're not living?
* "But we can't be free, until we learn to laugh at ourselves. Once you look in the mirror and see just how foolish we can be, laughter is inevitable. And from laughter comes wisdom." - G'Kar, B5
* What's the point in being alive if you're not living?
* "But we can't be free, until we learn to laugh at ourselves. Once you look in the mirror and see just how foolish we can be, laughter is inevitable. And from laughter comes wisdom." - G'Kar, B5
El Kamino
The scouts struggled in their return to Kelbard Tower. Though small, the troll was putting quite a fight despite having been shot with arrows. It was clear that ten well-aimed arrows were not going to stop the creature. The troll had been encased in a net and pulled by all five horses to ensure that it did not escape. However, the leader considered the possibility that perhaps he should have brought more men. As the group continued slowly through the marshes, the outlines of the Tower could finally be seen in the distance. Taking out his horn, the leader blew it with as much force as possible to signal the gatekeepers.
A returning sound of horn acknowledged the approaching scouts, and he could hear the sound of horses riding out in their direction. They were finally getting some help in pulling the troll. He knew not how much time passed, but by the time the second group arrived, it seemed like they had not moved a pace. The horses slowed down, and he could finally see the riders.
"What is that?" a man in the second group asked.
"A troll," the leader responded. "We found him n the middle of the marshes digging."
"Quite small for a troll, isn't it?"
"Yes," the leader nodded. "Which is why we are taking it to the Keeper."
"Very well. Give me a rope." The leader threw several rope ends to the man in the second group and ordered them to help pull the troll back to the Tower. Now it seemed they were moving faster.
*****
Andurman's cavalry marched their way into the gates of Lorwen Heights led by Nauthor and his men. As citizens of the capital looked with curiosity upon the arriving force, Andurman directed his attention forward, ignoring all distraction. He look up and saw a glimpse of the royal banners hanging on the highest hill of Lorwen Heights. Horns were blowing across the towers of Lorwen Heights to indicate the arrival of a prestigious lord in the capital. Small chatters among the citizens were growing more common as the force moved its way up the hills.
It was not long until Andurman, Nauthor, and several of their men arrived at the footsteps of the royal residence atop the hills. They dismounted from their horses and walked up the steps to the doors of the Great Hall. Guards lined the stairway bearing the flags of the King and Queen. Over Andurman's head, facing outward from the roof was the symbol of Lorwenho: a shield bearing the sun and the seas, symbolizing the unity of land and sea. As Andurman and Nauthor approached the doors, they opened and revealed the Great Hall filled with several advisers of the King and Queen.
At the throne, one seat remained empty, but to sides of the center throne sat Queen Madulia and Prince Mulérian, accompanied by Prince Galantas who was standing at his brother's side. Andurman approached the throne and knelt while Nauthor looked on.
"May it please the Queen and the Princes," Andurman greeted, "that Lord Andurman of Gerlonem has come to bid your audience."
"Rise, Lord Andurman," he heard the sweet voice of the Queen call upon him. "What brings you to the hills of Lorwen Heights with a full force?"
"Your Highness," Andurman bowed, "I have come here to propose to the King of a venture I wish to undertake. However, seeing as His Majesty is not available at the present moment, I wish to present my case to you."
Madulia took a glance at her two sons, who were watching Andurman with great intent. "What is this venture you wish to undertake, Lord Andurman?"
"Milady, I wish to ask your permission to ride beyond our southern borders to the easternmost parts of the Plains of the Kings."
"Why do you wish to do so, Andurman?" Mulérian asked, frowning.
"Milord, it has come to my attention that we have not heard from our villages in that area for the past month," Andurman reported. "Though it is true the villages of Amferia and Hilmodan are nearer to the capital, Gerlonem would generally hear news from the Plains earlier than Lorwen Heights."
"How long did you say? One month?" Queen Madulia asked.
"Yes. We have not heard from their regular sentries for a month. They often come to Gerlonem weekly, especially the merchants, to trade goods with the city. However, these past weeks have not been the case. I wish to investigate why this is so."
"Lord Andurman, you did understand that you had no need to come to the capital to ask our permission?" Madulia responded. "The southern lands of Lorwenho are under your supervision."
"I understood clearly, Milady, but I have one concern. I have reason to believe that bands of renegade raiders may have returned from the mountains and have cut off contact with our southeastern villages."
Madulia looked at her sons, who looked back at her with distress. "Lord Andurman," Mulérian finally said, "I will authorize your venture to the Plains of the Kings. Additionally, I shall ride out with you to investigate this matter."
Andurman knelt and lowered his head. "Thank you, Milord. I would be honored."
A returning sound of horn acknowledged the approaching scouts, and he could hear the sound of horses riding out in their direction. They were finally getting some help in pulling the troll. He knew not how much time passed, but by the time the second group arrived, it seemed like they had not moved a pace. The horses slowed down, and he could finally see the riders.
"What is that?" a man in the second group asked.
"A troll," the leader responded. "We found him n the middle of the marshes digging."
"Quite small for a troll, isn't it?"
"Yes," the leader nodded. "Which is why we are taking it to the Keeper."
"Very well. Give me a rope." The leader threw several rope ends to the man in the second group and ordered them to help pull the troll back to the Tower. Now it seemed they were moving faster.
*****
Andurman's cavalry marched their way into the gates of Lorwen Heights led by Nauthor and his men. As citizens of the capital looked with curiosity upon the arriving force, Andurman directed his attention forward, ignoring all distraction. He look up and saw a glimpse of the royal banners hanging on the highest hill of Lorwen Heights. Horns were blowing across the towers of Lorwen Heights to indicate the arrival of a prestigious lord in the capital. Small chatters among the citizens were growing more common as the force moved its way up the hills.
It was not long until Andurman, Nauthor, and several of their men arrived at the footsteps of the royal residence atop the hills. They dismounted from their horses and walked up the steps to the doors of the Great Hall. Guards lined the stairway bearing the flags of the King and Queen. Over Andurman's head, facing outward from the roof was the symbol of Lorwenho: a shield bearing the sun and the seas, symbolizing the unity of land and sea. As Andurman and Nauthor approached the doors, they opened and revealed the Great Hall filled with several advisers of the King and Queen.
At the throne, one seat remained empty, but to sides of the center throne sat Queen Madulia and Prince Mulérian, accompanied by Prince Galantas who was standing at his brother's side. Andurman approached the throne and knelt while Nauthor looked on.
"May it please the Queen and the Princes," Andurman greeted, "that Lord Andurman of Gerlonem has come to bid your audience."
"Rise, Lord Andurman," he heard the sweet voice of the Queen call upon him. "What brings you to the hills of Lorwen Heights with a full force?"
"Your Highness," Andurman bowed, "I have come here to propose to the King of a venture I wish to undertake. However, seeing as His Majesty is not available at the present moment, I wish to present my case to you."
Madulia took a glance at her two sons, who were watching Andurman with great intent. "What is this venture you wish to undertake, Lord Andurman?"
"Milady, I wish to ask your permission to ride beyond our southern borders to the easternmost parts of the Plains of the Kings."
"Why do you wish to do so, Andurman?" Mulérian asked, frowning.
"Milord, it has come to my attention that we have not heard from our villages in that area for the past month," Andurman reported. "Though it is true the villages of Amferia and Hilmodan are nearer to the capital, Gerlonem would generally hear news from the Plains earlier than Lorwen Heights."
"How long did you say? One month?" Queen Madulia asked.
"Yes. We have not heard from their regular sentries for a month. They often come to Gerlonem weekly, especially the merchants, to trade goods with the city. However, these past weeks have not been the case. I wish to investigate why this is so."
"Lord Andurman, you did understand that you had no need to come to the capital to ask our permission?" Madulia responded. "The southern lands of Lorwenho are under your supervision."
"I understood clearly, Milady, but I have one concern. I have reason to believe that bands of renegade raiders may have returned from the mountains and have cut off contact with our southeastern villages."
Madulia looked at her sons, who looked back at her with distress. "Lord Andurman," Mulérian finally said, "I will authorize your venture to the Plains of the Kings. Additionally, I shall ride out with you to investigate this matter."
Andurman knelt and lowered his head. "Thank you, Milord. I would be honored."
The Adminerator
Furgil Proudbeard, heir to Kazad Grim, sat on a log when the scouts returned. Their leader walked up to the prince, and bowed.
"Mylord, there's a rider on his way up here."
"A rider?"
"Aye. I think he be a messenger from the Ruathorn king. I've sent ten warriors to greet him."
Furgil nodded, checked his armor and helmet. Accompanied by ten Hammerers, he then made his way to the path.
A few minutes later, a procession of ten dwarves, followed by a human on a horse, came into the camp. The rider dismounted, and knelt before Furgil.
"Master Dwarf. I bring tidings from King Fanghelm."
"Speak."
"The King sends his regards, but he is unable to speak with you at this time. An army of Orcs approach from the west, and the army is mustering."
"Orcs? Then we shall lend our strength to that of you. Lead us."
Roughly thirty minutes later, the dwarf host began moving. Led by the Ruathorn messenger, they made their way towards the muster point...
"Mylord, there's a rider on his way up here."
"A rider?"
"Aye. I think he be a messenger from the Ruathorn king. I've sent ten warriors to greet him."
Furgil nodded, checked his armor and helmet. Accompanied by ten Hammerers, he then made his way to the path.
A few minutes later, a procession of ten dwarves, followed by a human on a horse, came into the camp. The rider dismounted, and knelt before Furgil.
"Master Dwarf. I bring tidings from King Fanghelm."
"Speak."
"The King sends his regards, but he is unable to speak with you at this time. An army of Orcs approach from the west, and the army is mustering."
"Orcs? Then we shall lend our strength to that of you. Lead us."
Roughly thirty minutes later, the dwarf host began moving. Led by the Ruathorn messenger, they made their way towards the muster point...
Ave Imperator
Posts: 2216
Joined: Sun Feb 16, 2003 9:46 pm
Joined: Sun Feb 16, 2003 9:46 pm
Location: Wherever I May Roam
Contact:
ic:
Deep in the Montoma Mountains
Dante and the Montomes rode quickly throught the mountains ahead of the orcish force that was on it's way to Ruathorn. "Dante," called Rondon from behind him, "There are still too many we need to stall them to ensure that Ruathorn is ready."
"I know, but what can we do without risking more men?" Dante asked. Then Dante's horse kicked a rock and it hit a small boulder and sent it rolling down into the pass. "That's it!" Dante said turning quickly. "Montomes! Take up positions behind the boulders, on my signal roll them into the Pass!"
Each of the Montomes got behind a boulder and got ready to use all their strength. The orcs were running up the pass to try to hasten their pace and reach Ruathron quicker. The surviving trolls were lined up in the front and back. Hopefully the rockslide would not only hinder their movements, it would take out more trolls.
They continued running until, "NOW!" Dante yelled. 20 large boulders rolled down onto the pass from each side. The lead trolls were crushed by the first 10 boulders and the orc were now furious. "Scout the mountain side! Find them! NOW!" the lead orc followed. However, with a simple whistle, the Montomes mounted their steeds and rode off for Ruathorn.
Deep in the Montoma Mountains
Dante and the Montomes rode quickly throught the mountains ahead of the orcish force that was on it's way to Ruathorn. "Dante," called Rondon from behind him, "There are still too many we need to stall them to ensure that Ruathorn is ready."
"I know, but what can we do without risking more men?" Dante asked. Then Dante's horse kicked a rock and it hit a small boulder and sent it rolling down into the pass. "That's it!" Dante said turning quickly. "Montomes! Take up positions behind the boulders, on my signal roll them into the Pass!"
Each of the Montomes got behind a boulder and got ready to use all their strength. The orcs were running up the pass to try to hasten their pace and reach Ruathron quicker. The surviving trolls were lined up in the front and back. Hopefully the rockslide would not only hinder their movements, it would take out more trolls.
They continued running until, "NOW!" Dante yelled. 20 large boulders rolled down onto the pass from each side. The lead trolls were crushed by the first 10 boulders and the orc were now furious. "Scout the mountain side! Find them! NOW!" the lead orc followed. However, with a simple whistle, the Montomes mounted their steeds and rode off for Ruathorn.
McCaffery: There are creatures in the deep you couldn't imagine in your worst nightmares.
Arthur 'AC' Curry: Oh thats reassuring. Thanks a lot.
"When someone stands in the way of justice, you simply walk up behind them and stab them in the heart" Ras Al-Gul - Batman Begins
Arthur 'AC' Curry: Oh thats reassuring. Thanks a lot.
"When someone stands in the way of justice, you simply walk up behind them and stab them in the heart" Ras Al-Gul - Batman Begins
I am Spartacus
Posts: 3316
Joined: Thu Feb 20, 2003 3:15 am
Joined: Thu Feb 20, 2003 3:15 am
Location: Somewhere between madness & genius
The evening feast in Lord Fanghelms hall went as many do, with copious quantities of ale and food while several women played instruments and a few of them danced.
Fanghelm was fairly silent during the meal. There was no doubt that he enjoyed it, but he wasn't as talkitive about his exploits as he might have been. Maybe it was something the shamen had said, maybe it was his son going off to scout the orc force but something was weighing on his mind. Less than an hour into it he finished the last of his tankard before rising and bidding the others goodnight and retired.
************************************************************
Off in the foothills of the mountain Krun and the others were sleeping but Rain lay looking up at the sky. He had no fear of either orcs or death, but yet something about the whole thing unsettled him. He shook his head to claer it and settled down, casting a glance at the still burning fire. If he was to die then it would be in battle and his enemies would fear his wrath until the end. Smilling to himself he turned over and after shifting about a little, managed to get some sleep.
Fanghelm was fairly silent during the meal. There was no doubt that he enjoyed it, but he wasn't as talkitive about his exploits as he might have been. Maybe it was something the shamen had said, maybe it was his son going off to scout the orc force but something was weighing on his mind. Less than an hour into it he finished the last of his tankard before rising and bidding the others goodnight and retired.
************************************************************
Off in the foothills of the mountain Krun and the others were sleeping but Rain lay looking up at the sky. He had no fear of either orcs or death, but yet something about the whole thing unsettled him. He shook his head to claer it and settled down, casting a glance at the still burning fire. If he was to die then it would be in battle and his enemies would fear his wrath until the end. Smilling to himself he turned over and after shifting about a little, managed to get some sleep.
* Beware the fury of a patient man.
* What's the point in being alive if you're not living?
* "But we can't be free, until we learn to laugh at ourselves. Once you look in the mirror and see just how foolish we can be, laughter is inevitable. And from laughter comes wisdom." - G'Kar, B5
* What's the point in being alive if you're not living?
* "But we can't be free, until we learn to laugh at ourselves. Once you look in the mirror and see just how foolish we can be, laughter is inevitable. And from laughter comes wisdom." - G'Kar, B5
The Adminerator
The two men, the elven prince and the human warrior, rode down the path. Below them was a barren mountain wall. The human stopped in front of the wall, and yelled something in the dwarven tongue. Suddenly, there was a loud screech, as the wall began moving. Or rather, part of the wall. An iron gate, inlaid with figures in gold, was opening where there had been nothing but stone moments before.
Wilhelm nodded to the Elven prince, and the two men rode inside. They entered a courtyard, where two young dwarves took their mounts to the stables. Escorted by 20 armored dwarves, Wilhelm led the prince through a myriad of tunnels. After walking for a good fifteen minutes, they found themselves in a large room. On a stone throne in the opposite end of the room sat an old dwarf. His beard reached the floor, and wrinkles covered the area around his eyes.
Dargil Proudbeard looked at the two men, then spoke:
"Welcome, Prince Aelus. How may the dwarves help you?" The prince stared at the old Dwarf and bowed slightly at the waist.
"My lord," he began "my father, the king of Norelena, sends his greetings and wishes that you receive a gift, and that we converse about things soon to come. We see, as you most likely do, that a great evil is lurking and the stars cry out with the horror of war upon the horizon."
Dargil Proudbeard rose and walked down the steps. He walked up to Aelus and looked him in the eyes - an impressive feat considering Aelus was three heads taller than the Dwarf king.
"Well, let's see your present then."
From within his cloak it was revealed. A shinning hammer with gold and silver decoration along the handle.
"Tano!" Aelus said with a booming voice. "A Hammer for your smithies!" He kneeled down before the king, and extended his hand with the hammer. "Though your crafts are great in quality they have always lacked the magic which the elves possess. Though we cannot offer you all we have, we give you this gift to help strengthen your works."
Dargil received the hammer and turned it in his hand, looking at it. He thought it needed a gem here or there, but said nothing. Instead he looked at Prince Aelus.
"Get on your feet, lad. It'll wear your pants." He stuffed the hammer into his belt. "I thank you for the gift, Prince Aelus." He turned and walked to a nearby wooden table. Sitting down, he motioned to Aelus. "Come, sit down my lad. Tell me what's on the mind of the elves."
The prince sat down next to the aged dwarf.
"I do need to tell you one thing about that hammer. If it is used for strictly selfish purposes or for evil things, ill tidings will come." He made sure that the dwarven king understood before returning to the point. "I have come to say that Trolls are moving back into the mountains as you have already discovered. Great evil is moving and though I know not from where. All my people know for sure is that it is powerful."
"Aye, I know. Our Runesmiths have seen the signs as well. Unfortunately we know little ourselves." He emptied the tankard in front of him, before continuing. "Which is why I sent our Human friend over there to your lands. Perhaps it is time to revive the old Alliance?"
The prince smiled. "The old alliance need not be revived for it has never diminished. Long has the dwarves of your realm been considered friends of my people. We will, however, make official this alliance between us. Know now that when ever you call the elves shall be there to assist you."
Dargil smiled as well. "I thank you, Prince Aelus. And know that should you ever need it, the blades of the Khazukan will be at your command." The king turned. "Wine for the Elven Prince."
The rest of the night passed away, as the Elven prince, and the Dwarven king discussed the details further.
Wilhelm nodded to the Elven prince, and the two men rode inside. They entered a courtyard, where two young dwarves took their mounts to the stables. Escorted by 20 armored dwarves, Wilhelm led the prince through a myriad of tunnels. After walking for a good fifteen minutes, they found themselves in a large room. On a stone throne in the opposite end of the room sat an old dwarf. His beard reached the floor, and wrinkles covered the area around his eyes.
Dargil Proudbeard looked at the two men, then spoke:
"Welcome, Prince Aelus. How may the dwarves help you?" The prince stared at the old Dwarf and bowed slightly at the waist.
"My lord," he began "my father, the king of Norelena, sends his greetings and wishes that you receive a gift, and that we converse about things soon to come. We see, as you most likely do, that a great evil is lurking and the stars cry out with the horror of war upon the horizon."
Dargil Proudbeard rose and walked down the steps. He walked up to Aelus and looked him in the eyes - an impressive feat considering Aelus was three heads taller than the Dwarf king.
"Well, let's see your present then."
From within his cloak it was revealed. A shinning hammer with gold and silver decoration along the handle.
"Tano!" Aelus said with a booming voice. "A Hammer for your smithies!" He kneeled down before the king, and extended his hand with the hammer. "Though your crafts are great in quality they have always lacked the magic which the elves possess. Though we cannot offer you all we have, we give you this gift to help strengthen your works."
Dargil received the hammer and turned it in his hand, looking at it. He thought it needed a gem here or there, but said nothing. Instead he looked at Prince Aelus.
"Get on your feet, lad. It'll wear your pants." He stuffed the hammer into his belt. "I thank you for the gift, Prince Aelus." He turned and walked to a nearby wooden table. Sitting down, he motioned to Aelus. "Come, sit down my lad. Tell me what's on the mind of the elves."
The prince sat down next to the aged dwarf.
"I do need to tell you one thing about that hammer. If it is used for strictly selfish purposes or for evil things, ill tidings will come." He made sure that the dwarven king understood before returning to the point. "I have come to say that Trolls are moving back into the mountains as you have already discovered. Great evil is moving and though I know not from where. All my people know for sure is that it is powerful."
"Aye, I know. Our Runesmiths have seen the signs as well. Unfortunately we know little ourselves." He emptied the tankard in front of him, before continuing. "Which is why I sent our Human friend over there to your lands. Perhaps it is time to revive the old Alliance?"
The prince smiled. "The old alliance need not be revived for it has never diminished. Long has the dwarves of your realm been considered friends of my people. We will, however, make official this alliance between us. Know now that when ever you call the elves shall be there to assist you."
Dargil smiled as well. "I thank you, Prince Aelus. And know that should you ever need it, the blades of the Khazukan will be at your command." The king turned. "Wine for the Elven Prince."
The rest of the night passed away, as the Elven prince, and the Dwarven king discussed the details further.
Wise-Ass
Posts: 2664
Joined: Sat Feb 15, 2003 8:26 pm
Joined: Sat Feb 15, 2003 8:26 pm
"I don't trust this forest, meself."
Eight men trudged through the woodlands commonly referred to as Shadowood by Men. The place had an older name, Tirithtaur. "Guardian forest," it meant, in the elven tongue. But indeed, few men remembered this old wood's first name, and fewer elves remembered the reason for it being named thus.
"Haunted as a witch's curse, it is." The man continued.
"Shut yer damn mouth!" Vociferated a second. The eight brigands plunged deeper into the wood, their faces a semblance of bravery given away only by the unconscious fondling of their sword hilts and the universal weakness of the souls of men.
And then, quite suddenly, there were no longer eight men but seven. The seven did not notice the disappearance of their companion, who had been to the rear of the group. They kept walking, cursing the ancient trees whose roots extended far and intermingled, making walking difficult.
A shadow flitted across the path, and another man was gone. Then another, and another still. "'Ow old d'ye think this forest is?" Asked the brigand who had spoken earlier. "Must be nigh thousands of years old, aye? ....Thanos?"
He turned, as did the other three, and they all realized, quite at once, that their party had been reduced in number by half. Drawing swords, their faces livid with terror, they formed a back-to-back quartet, circling and gazing into the impenetrable darkness of the forest for any sign of their assailants.
"I hear a rustling!" The first brigand shouted, looking up. Suddenly, something fell from the leafy canopy above. Four somethings. The bodies of their companions, their feet dangling from ropes so that their grotesquely broken, bent necks were eye-level to their living counterparts.
The four brigands broke into hysterics, blubbering and screaming as they launched into four terrified sprints in four different directions, all but one brought to a halt an instant later as a shaft of black ash imbedded itself in the back of each of their skulls.
The remaining brigand, the one who had spoken before, whimpered as forms suddenly materialized from the darkness of the trees. Tall figures, garbed in black and brown cloaks that blended so well with the darkness that even as they approached, they shifted in and out of focus.
"D...Dun hurt me!" He begged, falling to his hands and knees; not out of reverence but of a physical inability to stand, his fear was so great.
"What brings eight men - the word was spoken with intense disgust - into the wood of the tirnen?"
"P..Please! We was just tryin' to find a shorter way through the wilderness! Dun hurt me!"
The hooded, cloaked figure fitted another arrow of black ash to an impressive longbow as tall as he himself and drew the string taut. "One does not tread lightly into the wood of the Naelar, son of man."
The sickening hiss and thud of an arrow plunging into meat echoed through that region of the forest.
Eight men trudged through the woodlands commonly referred to as Shadowood by Men. The place had an older name, Tirithtaur. "Guardian forest," it meant, in the elven tongue. But indeed, few men remembered this old wood's first name, and fewer elves remembered the reason for it being named thus.
"Haunted as a witch's curse, it is." The man continued.
"Shut yer damn mouth!" Vociferated a second. The eight brigands plunged deeper into the wood, their faces a semblance of bravery given away only by the unconscious fondling of their sword hilts and the universal weakness of the souls of men.
And then, quite suddenly, there were no longer eight men but seven. The seven did not notice the disappearance of their companion, who had been to the rear of the group. They kept walking, cursing the ancient trees whose roots extended far and intermingled, making walking difficult.
A shadow flitted across the path, and another man was gone. Then another, and another still. "'Ow old d'ye think this forest is?" Asked the brigand who had spoken earlier. "Must be nigh thousands of years old, aye? ....Thanos?"
He turned, as did the other three, and they all realized, quite at once, that their party had been reduced in number by half. Drawing swords, their faces livid with terror, they formed a back-to-back quartet, circling and gazing into the impenetrable darkness of the forest for any sign of their assailants.
"I hear a rustling!" The first brigand shouted, looking up. Suddenly, something fell from the leafy canopy above. Four somethings. The bodies of their companions, their feet dangling from ropes so that their grotesquely broken, bent necks were eye-level to their living counterparts.
The four brigands broke into hysterics, blubbering and screaming as they launched into four terrified sprints in four different directions, all but one brought to a halt an instant later as a shaft of black ash imbedded itself in the back of each of their skulls.
The remaining brigand, the one who had spoken before, whimpered as forms suddenly materialized from the darkness of the trees. Tall figures, garbed in black and brown cloaks that blended so well with the darkness that even as they approached, they shifted in and out of focus.
"D...Dun hurt me!" He begged, falling to his hands and knees; not out of reverence but of a physical inability to stand, his fear was so great.
"What brings eight men - the word was spoken with intense disgust - into the wood of the tirnen?"
"P..Please! We was just tryin' to find a shorter way through the wilderness! Dun hurt me!"
The hooded, cloaked figure fitted another arrow of black ash to an impressive longbow as tall as he himself and drew the string taut. "One does not tread lightly into the wood of the Naelar, son of man."
The sickening hiss and thud of an arrow plunging into meat echoed through that region of the forest.
Altaris stepped quietly around the giant boulder. Arophalos was now a hundred feet away, staring at his master with intent and nervousness. The smell of the enemy was rancid. Listening , the enemy steps were silent and agile. The ground slightly shook for a moment, then stopped.
It was here . . .
Pulling back his bow, Altaris was ready for the attack. Sleek and agile, the creature appeared from the top of the boulder. It was a reptile of sorts; twice as long as the elf. Its scales were thick like a dragons. Horns as sharp as swords extended from the creatures forehead. Hissing, the battle began. . .
Jumping from its boulder, Altaris took the opportunity to fire a shot into the beast underbelly. Falling to the ground with a thud, the creature slid into a nearby boulder. Hissing louder, the reptile quickly regained its strength and charged for Altaris.
Trying to parry from its horns, Altaris somersaulted around the charging beast, getting hit by the beast’s powerful tail. Climbing up a stone, the reptile screeched in victory.
Pulling aside his cape, Altaris drew his sword. Glistening silver, smooth and curved for best attack, Altaris watched his enemy almost smirk. Lowering its head, the creature charged once again. Patient, Altaris looked into the eyes of the creature. Then, when the fatal blow was upon him, Altaris jumped in the air, flipped and landed on the creatures back.
Jolting from the unexpected move, the creature frantically and chaotic began moving, trying to fling off its passenger. Holding on though, Altaris moved up to the creatures head. Flipping his sword, Altaris shoved his blade into the skull of the beast, instantly bringing the reptile down
It was here . . .
Pulling back his bow, Altaris was ready for the attack. Sleek and agile, the creature appeared from the top of the boulder. It was a reptile of sorts; twice as long as the elf. Its scales were thick like a dragons. Horns as sharp as swords extended from the creatures forehead. Hissing, the battle began. . .
Jumping from its boulder, Altaris took the opportunity to fire a shot into the beast underbelly. Falling to the ground with a thud, the creature slid into a nearby boulder. Hissing louder, the reptile quickly regained its strength and charged for Altaris.
Trying to parry from its horns, Altaris somersaulted around the charging beast, getting hit by the beast’s powerful tail. Climbing up a stone, the reptile screeched in victory.
Pulling aside his cape, Altaris drew his sword. Glistening silver, smooth and curved for best attack, Altaris watched his enemy almost smirk. Lowering its head, the creature charged once again. Patient, Altaris looked into the eyes of the creature. Then, when the fatal blow was upon him, Altaris jumped in the air, flipped and landed on the creatures back.
Jolting from the unexpected move, the creature frantically and chaotic began moving, trying to fling off its passenger. Holding on though, Altaris moved up to the creatures head. Flipping his sword, Altaris shoved his blade into the skull of the beast, instantly bringing the reptile down
Angrod and his company of fifteen elves arrived late in the city of Anthatal. The city was rested at the base of the mountains surrounding the Elven Realm. Small streams twinkled down the mountainside and collected into small pools. The city lay in the forested area and new oaks began to grow. Angrod had now reached the great half of the Lord Elric.
“Oh exiled prince of the forgotten and dispersed realm.” Angrod bowed and began to give his news. “I have told your cousin and his kin of the Trolls as you have ordered. It has been many years since he had taken you into his kingdom and your people harbored safely. And many more since your kingdoms destruction, and though the people are content here in this realm they wonder when you may take the title of King of Anthatal as is your right, and as King Arrahd has promised.”
“No Angrod I have no desire to lead a nation. My people, the people of this city, know I am their lord and I need not take any other title.”
“My lord speaks wisely so I shall listen, and it is true that the King does give us much leave. I do however question his ability to rule over you…”
“Have no such worries," Elric interjected "he is capable and cunning. The best ruler that I have ever seen.” Elric replied in defense of his kinsmen.
Angrod accepted this and only added one more comment. “You are the oldest of the elves in this kingdom and of Adaluavale. I know your knowledge of this world is more extensive then all others and I know you to be the wisest of all. I ask you now to command me.” With that he kneeled on the ground of the halls.
“I shall first command you to stand!” Elric announced. “Then I shall have you send a messenger to the dwarves and have them order in my name enough armor of this design,” He handed a piece of paper with wondrous looking design that was both appealing to the eye and gives a great amount of protection, “to arm a great host. Tell the Dwarves that gold will be paid upon delivery of this armor. War is on the way and I shall prepare a host. I will have our smiths construct weapons while we have the dwarves make armor for us and our host train.”
Angrod nodded and waved a hand and two of his men walked out of the door to deliver the nobles message. “And you Angrod.” He said solemnly. “You and your men are to head out and discover the cause of this great evil.”
“Yes mi’lord, I shall wait for a few days to pass before leaving. I will contemplate my journey and the dangers ahead of us and I will select another two men to come with me, I will not ride out without fifteen in my company.”
“Oh exiled prince of the forgotten and dispersed realm.” Angrod bowed and began to give his news. “I have told your cousin and his kin of the Trolls as you have ordered. It has been many years since he had taken you into his kingdom and your people harbored safely. And many more since your kingdoms destruction, and though the people are content here in this realm they wonder when you may take the title of King of Anthatal as is your right, and as King Arrahd has promised.”
“No Angrod I have no desire to lead a nation. My people, the people of this city, know I am their lord and I need not take any other title.”
“My lord speaks wisely so I shall listen, and it is true that the King does give us much leave. I do however question his ability to rule over you…”
“Have no such worries," Elric interjected "he is capable and cunning. The best ruler that I have ever seen.” Elric replied in defense of his kinsmen.
Angrod accepted this and only added one more comment. “You are the oldest of the elves in this kingdom and of Adaluavale. I know your knowledge of this world is more extensive then all others and I know you to be the wisest of all. I ask you now to command me.” With that he kneeled on the ground of the halls.
“I shall first command you to stand!” Elric announced. “Then I shall have you send a messenger to the dwarves and have them order in my name enough armor of this design,” He handed a piece of paper with wondrous looking design that was both appealing to the eye and gives a great amount of protection, “to arm a great host. Tell the Dwarves that gold will be paid upon delivery of this armor. War is on the way and I shall prepare a host. I will have our smiths construct weapons while we have the dwarves make armor for us and our host train.”
Angrod nodded and waved a hand and two of his men walked out of the door to deliver the nobles message. “And you Angrod.” He said solemnly. “You and your men are to head out and discover the cause of this great evil.”
“Yes mi’lord, I shall wait for a few days to pass before leaving. I will contemplate my journey and the dangers ahead of us and I will select another two men to come with me, I will not ride out without fifteen in my company.”
Domani, forget domani
Let's live for now and anyhow who needs domani?
~ Frank Sinatra, Forget Domani
Let's live for now and anyhow who needs domani?
~ Frank Sinatra, Forget Domani
Arophalos' speed hastened as he galloped on the path through the mountains. Anthatul was just over its mountain.
Running through the ancient stone arch that welcomed travelers into the picturesque city, Altaris hopped off of his steed and looked at awe of his Uncle's kingdom.
Several elves walked up to the newcomer, " Sire, what brings you to Anthatul?"
"My lord, I am Altaris, Prince of Adaluavale. I come to represent my mother, the sorceress Queen Alatariel."
Running through the ancient stone arch that welcomed travelers into the picturesque city, Altaris hopped off of his steed and looked at awe of his Uncle's kingdom.
Several elves walked up to the newcomer, " Sire, what brings you to Anthatul?"
"My lord, I am Altaris, Prince of Adaluavale. I come to represent my mother, the sorceress Queen Alatariel."
The elves saw to the needs of the royal visitor. “Lord Elric will see you now.” Said one of the elves serving him. “He was glad to receive you Prince Altaris.” With that the elves brought him through marble and great houses each unique but all fitting into the natural surroundings. Into the lords hall they brought him and Elric stood up and in a booming voice said. “Kinsmen, what brings you to my fair and peaceful city?”
OOC: probably more on the way...
OOC: probably more on the way...
Domani, forget domani
Let's live for now and anyhow who needs domani?
~ Frank Sinatra, Forget Domani
Let's live for now and anyhow who needs domani?
~ Frank Sinatra, Forget Domani
El Kamino
Finally entering the gates of Kelbard Tower, more men came to help pull the still unconscious troll further into the base of the scouting structure. The ten riders dismounted from their horses and approached the troll carefully. However, none of them approached within three feet of the creature. They waited for Sarlanda to come down the Tower and examine the finding. In the meantime, the riders took a rest and replenished themselves.
Not long afterward, the Keeper arrived down the stairway on the north side of the base hall. He seemed to be in a hurry, perhaps to examine the creature fully. As he approached the troll, he began to feel anxious. "Did you see any others?" he asked the original five riders.
"No. It was the only thing out there. Alone."
Sarlanda shook his head. "No, that's not possible. There must be more out there. Such a small troll could not have wandered this far."
"Yet it is here," the lead rider said.
"Indeed," Sarlanda said. "I cannot explain it. This is not a time for trolls to be moving around these marshes. The season is not yet changing. I fear there is something more to this."
"Is it a threat?"
"No," Sarlanda admitted, "but it may well be in the future."
*****
Prince Mulérian, dressed in full armor and his cape, walked down the steps leading down to the base of the royal residence. Below, Lord Andurman was awaiting their departure to the Plains of the Kings. His mother, Queen Madulia, was walking beside him.
"My son," she said, "what do you think of the stiuation? The southern regions have always been peaceful. Why would they cut off contact at this time? Perhaps they have decided not to trade with the city these few months."
"Mother," Mulérian said, stopping midway and speaking turned to his mother, "I do not know what awaits me in the Plains, but I feel there is trouble brewing. The mountain raiders have not been encountered in more than a year, and perhaps they have returned. If that is so, I must investigate the situation and assess the damage."
Madulia sighed, admitting defeat. It was her wish that her son would not go, leaving her and his younger brother to care for the throne. "Very well, Mulérian. Go and investigate the matter."
Mulérian placed his hands on his mother's shoulders and reassured her. "Do not worry. Father will return in three days. Lorwen Heights will be safe in that time." He continued to walk down the steps without his mother and greeted Andurman. Mounting on his white horse, the prince looked at his mother one more time and ordered his horse and the company around, leading them down the hills.
The two hundred men of mostly Gerlonem soldiers followed the prince and Andurman's lead, carrying the banners of Lorwen Heights and Gerlonem side by side. Together, they rode out of the city and to the southeast to investigate the villages of Amferia and Hilmodan.
Not long afterward, the Keeper arrived down the stairway on the north side of the base hall. He seemed to be in a hurry, perhaps to examine the creature fully. As he approached the troll, he began to feel anxious. "Did you see any others?" he asked the original five riders.
"No. It was the only thing out there. Alone."
Sarlanda shook his head. "No, that's not possible. There must be more out there. Such a small troll could not have wandered this far."
"Yet it is here," the lead rider said.
"Indeed," Sarlanda said. "I cannot explain it. This is not a time for trolls to be moving around these marshes. The season is not yet changing. I fear there is something more to this."
"Is it a threat?"
"No," Sarlanda admitted, "but it may well be in the future."
*****
Prince Mulérian, dressed in full armor and his cape, walked down the steps leading down to the base of the royal residence. Below, Lord Andurman was awaiting their departure to the Plains of the Kings. His mother, Queen Madulia, was walking beside him.
"My son," she said, "what do you think of the stiuation? The southern regions have always been peaceful. Why would they cut off contact at this time? Perhaps they have decided not to trade with the city these few months."
"Mother," Mulérian said, stopping midway and speaking turned to his mother, "I do not know what awaits me in the Plains, but I feel there is trouble brewing. The mountain raiders have not been encountered in more than a year, and perhaps they have returned. If that is so, I must investigate the situation and assess the damage."
Madulia sighed, admitting defeat. It was her wish that her son would not go, leaving her and his younger brother to care for the throne. "Very well, Mulérian. Go and investigate the matter."
Mulérian placed his hands on his mother's shoulders and reassured her. "Do not worry. Father will return in three days. Lorwen Heights will be safe in that time." He continued to walk down the steps without his mother and greeted Andurman. Mounting on his white horse, the prince looked at his mother one more time and ordered his horse and the company around, leading them down the hills.
The two hundred men of mostly Gerlonem soldiers followed the prince and Andurman's lead, carrying the banners of Lorwen Heights and Gerlonem side by side. Together, they rode out of the city and to the southeast to investigate the villages of Amferia and Hilmodan.
Ave Imperator
Posts: 2216
Joined: Sun Feb 16, 2003 9:46 pm
Joined: Sun Feb 16, 2003 9:46 pm
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Southern Ruathorn
After making the rockslide, Dante and the rest of the Montomes rode full speed to Ruathorn. Pssing through many villages, they warned of the coming orcs. "To arms! To arms! Orcs are coming this way!"
After over a day of hard riding, they finished their journey in the city of Miarsta. Dante and Rondon rode to the palace and dismounted in front of the guards, "We seek council with the mighty and wise King of Ruathorn"
Montoma Mountains
Rian and his riders had left their camp in the shadow of night. They were riding up the Benavlo Pass at a moderate pace. Finally, the reached the site of the first battle between the orcs and the Montomes.
Rian dismounted his horse and inspected the orc corpse, "Only a day old, we're not that far behind."
He then mounted his noble steed and the soldiers rode off for Ruathorn and the orcish force that would be attacking it.
Southern Ruathorn
After making the rockslide, Dante and the rest of the Montomes rode full speed to Ruathorn. Pssing through many villages, they warned of the coming orcs. "To arms! To arms! Orcs are coming this way!"
After over a day of hard riding, they finished their journey in the city of Miarsta. Dante and Rondon rode to the palace and dismounted in front of the guards, "We seek council with the mighty and wise King of Ruathorn"
Montoma Mountains
Rian and his riders had left their camp in the shadow of night. They were riding up the Benavlo Pass at a moderate pace. Finally, the reached the site of the first battle between the orcs and the Montomes.
Rian dismounted his horse and inspected the orc corpse, "Only a day old, we're not that far behind."
He then mounted his noble steed and the soldiers rode off for Ruathorn and the orcish force that would be attacking it.
McCaffery: There are creatures in the deep you couldn't imagine in your worst nightmares.
Arthur 'AC' Curry: Oh thats reassuring. Thanks a lot.
"When someone stands in the way of justice, you simply walk up behind them and stab them in the heart" Ras Al-Gul - Batman Begins
Arthur 'AC' Curry: Oh thats reassuring. Thanks a lot.
"When someone stands in the way of justice, you simply walk up behind them and stab them in the heart" Ras Al-Gul - Batman Begins
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