# The Riddle of Midnight (3/04/04) New Post!



## Paka (Dec 11, 2003)

*Dark Tower's Shadow II - The Riddle of Midnight*
Post 1

Previous Story Hour - Dark Tower's Shadow

_Dungeon Master’s spoken intro to players:_

_99 years ago the finest army the Dwarves, the Elves and the nations of humanity could muster gathered on the southern shore of the Pelurian Sea to fight the armies of the Shadow.  They lost.

The Elves defend their forest that is being cut down, tree by tree.   Orcish forces are decimated by Elvish arrows and magic just as fresh new recruits are brought to the Erethor Front.  The Dwarves are trapped in their mountain keeps.  It is said that for every inch the Shadow wins is paved with the blood of a hundred Orc.  It is a price Izrador is willing to pay.

Elves and Dwarves are often lynched in small villages, or even handed over to Legates or Orcs in order to curry favor with the Shadow.

The gold, silver and copper economy that we’ve known from our junior high D&D games has collapsed.  The concept of value is different in this broken world.  Halfling children hunt rabbits with diamonds in their slings, using them as bullets, because that is all those stones are good for anymore.

Carrying weapons is illegal.  Reading is illegal.  Teaching someone else to read is illegal.  Being an Elf or a Dwarf is illegal.  Casting spells is illegal as is owning a magic item.  

The punishment for the above crimes is death but sometimes the Shadow Legates get creative.

Orcs and Shadowspawn rule the world and your characters are living in it.  

Welcome to Midnight._


*Baau - Sea Elven Sailor/Soldier (Marine?) * 

*Philosophy * - All things are in my own hands. 

*Drive * - To find kidnapped lover 

*Passion * - Love of Aoen _(he was stoned and he had just seen Two Towers...hence Eowyn as Aoen) _ 

*Passion * - Hatred - Shadow 

*Luck*


Baau woke up from his dream, holding his belly, happy that there was no Orcish spear in his gut, barbed point sticking out of his back.  It wasn’t only a nightmare.  Baau knew that the two others he met in the dream, the grim Northman and the Wood Elf were real people.  He could feel the power of their oath to destroy the Shadow, the same Oath he had sworn.

He had left the safety of his people’s warm crystal bay to find his love.  He caught the tracks of a band of Orcs, heading north as fast as their feet could take them.  There were rocks piled up next to their camps, tiny stones the Orcs didn’t notice and it was a Sea Elf ritual, leavings for the spirits.  They had a prisoner with them and maybe she had been his love.

In his dream he was sitting at a fire with the bald, scarred Northman and the scarlet clad Elf.  They had caught the same trail he had.  They knew each other from some previous adventures.  They invited him along, sensing his oath in his just as he sensed theirs in them.  

The party had met with an Orc in a crow’s cage by a crossroads.  The Orc had one arm, the other torn off.  The Elf and the Northman dealt with him and eventually agreed to let him free.  Together, they would ambush the Orcs while they slept.

From a ridge above the camp, Baau waited for the Northman to enter the camp with the one armed Orc and then rained hell upon them with arrows.  He had fired three shots, three arrows plunged into Orcish faces when an Orc noticed him.  The spear was tossed quickly, a hard under-hand chuck.

It was the most terrible pain imaginable.  They say a spear in the gut is the most terrible wound a warrior can receive.  From then on the dream was nothing but gut wrenching agony.


*Vorden Qell, The Crimson Prince - Elven Sorcerer * 

*Philosophy * - _The shadow will fall even if I have to kill, rape and pillage to see it done. _ 

*Conscience * - Help the Poor 

*Drive * - To see the Shadow Fall 

*Faith * - In my Father 

*Destiny * - To Redeem Father 

*Passion * - Preserving nature

Vorden woke up from the dream, pleased that it was only a dream.  He checked his chest, happy to find no spear buried in his sternum.  

It had all felt so real.  He remembered summoning the spirit of a dead man whose skull was under the crow’s cage.  He had asked the dead to watch the Orc, make sure he didn’t betray them.

Vorden had promised, “Watch the Orc and I will bury you in the Elven forest.  You will be put to rest in a green place, under a fruit tree.”

From the skull’s eye socket a whisper sounded out, like the sound of the sea in a shell it said, “That would be nice.”

They tied the skull around the Orc’s neck, like it was a necklace of some kind.

In rushed hurried whispers they made plans to assault the camp, save the girl.  She was tied to a log in the middle of camp.  They agreed to kill all of the Orcs and then free the girl.  When they talked about freeing her first the Orc, who they called Lefty disagreed.  “She’s been used roughly by five Orcs.  Do you really think she is in her right mind by now?  Please.  She has no idea where she is.”

Elves had not faired well in that dream, none of them had.  It was Vorden’s loud steps that alerted the Orcs.  The spear had flown out of the night and plunged into his chest.

By the time the Crimson Prince had summoned a Fire Elemental to do his battling the fight was all but over.  The Northman, Karhoun, was nearly headless and the Sea Elf with the dreadlocks was slowly dying of his gut wounds.  

He had piled the bodies into the maw of the Fire Elemental to appease it and then he awoke.

In the end of the dream it had been just him and the one-armed Orc they had freed from the crow’s cage.  Was it just a dream or would there really be such an Orc waiting for them down the road.  Had he been through the same dream?

Had the Orcs heading north had the same dream?


*Karhoun 'The Knife' Esben - Northerner Huntsman * 

*Philosophy * - My last breath will be driving my blade deeper to the heart of the shadows. 

*Drive * - Oath to Destroy the Black Tower of Theros Obisdia (capital city of Evil) 

*Destiny * - To restore Karhoun's Keep for our people of the north 

*Faith * - Honor your ancestors and their gods 

*Passion * - Shadow hunting 

*Passion * - Love - Elaylee - Dark Dryad of the Black Oak

Karhoun woke up from his nightmare glad that his head was still on its shoulders.  It would be a tragic thing to have survived all that he had, only to die by the Vardatch of an Orc.  The north was filled with such tragedies, though.

It was a shock to see Vorden again but good to be in the company of those who had sworn an oath.  Vorden had sworn the exact same oath as him, to bring down the Black Tower of Theros Obsidia, where they had been raised.  Karhoun had been sent there by his black-hearted father.  Vorden’s father, a Night King Wizard of immense power, had fostered his son there too.  Baau had sworn a more general oath in some oath room in Eredane but as long as it was an oath to bring down the Shadow it was an oath that bound them all together.

“I heard you put Bastion to the torch, my friend.  Good work,” Vorden said, complimenting the rumors he had heard concerning the work of an Ironblooded Northman who had led the Fey, set fire to the breadbasket of Eredane.

Karhoun shrugged.

They talked about old times, how the last time they had met, Karhoun had kicked the Elf off of a roof and then fell to the cobblestones himself.  

“The Manticore,”  the Elf remembered, “That beast is going to come looking for us.”

Karhoun smiled, “We have much to discuss.”

They turned to the crow’s cage at the crossroads.

The Orc from the crow’s cage was a proud creature.  It had challenged his pack’s leader for the alpha spot and lost.  The lead Orc took of the challenger’s right arm, left it outside the cage with a stick in its hand.  On the stick were carved the runes for Vardatch.

Vorden stood outside the cage, eating flesh from the Orc’s arm to intimidate him.  Then Vorden beckoned the Sea Elf to put his torch under the cage, letting the heat do its work.  The pack of Orcs was heading northward to kill a Dragon.  None of them wanted to deal with Orcs who aspired to be Dragonslayers.

But they had an Elven woman with them.  When Vorden asked why they traveled with such a guest the Orc only laughed and said, “To stay warm.”

“You rape her.”

The Orc spit.  “No, we respect her and have pleasant conversation.  What do you think, you mad Elf?”

The one-armed Orc had agreed to lead them into the camp so long as he could kill the leader himself.  They had agreed and freed him.  Vorden reluctantly gave him a knife when he explained how heavily armored the leader would be.

Baau had taken position on the ridge above the camp.  Karhoun and the one-armed Orc crept into the camp.  Vorden had agreed to create some fiery problems for the Orcs once the watch and leader were dispatched.   Karhoun and the Orc silently padded into camp and then everything went to hell.

Vorden had left the ridge for some reason and was entering camp from a different direction.  That wasn’t what Karhoun had remembered agreeing to.  The watch saw him, raised the cry.  Karhoun charged and drove his Dornish hand and a half blade into the Orc’s leg, hoping to take his legs out from under him and stop the spear before it started.  The spear hit Vorden in the chest with a wet thud and the blade only grazed the Orc’s leg, stopped by his well-maintained suit of chainmail.

Behind him, Karhoun could hear the one-armed Orc struggling with his former leader, vainly trying for revenge.

The Orc that had thrown a spear drew a knife and turned on Karhoun when an arrow flew out of the night.  The creature’s head exploded, covering the Northman in warm Orc-gore.   Not wanting to venture deeper into the camp without his back being secure he turned to their Orcish confederate and the leader.  The chief had his fingers deep into his challenger’s stump, driving his fingers into the one-armed Orc’s bone.  The beast’s screams were loud and terrible.

Karhoun took his blade and drove it into the leader’s armpit, where his full-plate was lacking.  The creature died quickly.

Then he turned to the rest of the camp.  Another Orc died with another arrow to the face.  Then another.

Karhoun clashed with the last Orc as the flames in the middle of camp rose into the shape of a fiery beast.  The fire was raging, talking to Vorden, demanding bodies to feed it when Karhoun and the Orc swung at each other.

Neither the human nor the Orc had a mind for defense or prudence.  Orcish Vardatch and Dornish Bastard Sword swung.  The Vardatch hit the soft part of Karhoun’s throat even as his blade took off the jawbone of the Orc.  They both fell, one without a face and the other nearly without a head.

Karhoun rubbed his neck, happy it was just a dream, knowing that some of lucid dream had truth in it and wondering how it would affect the waking world.  



_DM’s notes:

We were trying a new system, The Riddle of Steel by Driftwood Publishing, so I decided that their characters were having a lucid dream, giving the players a chance to get used to it.  The characters all knew they were having a dream from the beginning and they had caught the track of a band of Orcs heading in the same direction has Karhoun had planned to go, North towards the Fortress Wall.  There was evidence of a Sea Elven Maiden with them.

The combat, as you could see, was brutal.  I am still getting used to the new combat system but I think it will work nicely, once we get used to the new system.  

Thanks for reading._


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## Jeph (Dec 13, 2003)

Whooo! Yeah! A TROS SH!

Not half bad writing, neither.


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## Tuerny (Dec 13, 2003)

Jeph said:
			
		

> Whooo! Yeah! A TROS SH!
> 
> Not half bad writing, neither.





Looks good so far. 

Have you seen the Midnight HQ conversion?

Jesse D.


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## Jeph (Dec 17, 2003)

You've had a second session, and I don't see an update...

"Fezzik, tear his arms off." 
--Jeff


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## Paka (Dec 21, 2003)

*Dark Tower's Shadow II - The Riddle of Midnight*
Post 2

*Varduk's Revenge*

I am Varduk, Orc of the Bitter Mother tribe.  One day ago I challenged my chief, whose name I refuse to utter until his last breath says mine.  The chief took my sword arm and locked me in a cage on the side of the road, a cage put there by Father Izrador to show the world what becomes of the weak.

My arm is outside of the cage, holding a stick to remind me of my loss.  It was right to challenge him.  If our illustrious chief hadn't made grevious errors back in Baden's Bluff we wouldn't have been sent across the water, sent north, sent to kill the Worm of the Fortress Wall.  It is suicide and we knew it.

Last night I dreamt of two Elves and a Northman letting me out of the crow's cage that is now my home and would likely have been my grave.  They let me out and we killed the Orcs in this dream but our blood spilled the ground in great quantities.  

I was bleeding badly out of the ruin that was my arm, now a stump right to the shoulder.  

When I opened my eyes the Northman was standing before me.  He tested my strength with the stick, asked if I was going to be trouble.

"Let me out and we will hunt my tribesman like we did in my dream," I told him.  He struck the cage with his blade, a hand and a half Northman's blade these humans of the North favor.  Their blades are relics but I didn't tell him so.  In this age, the Last Age, the Age of the Orc will know the Vardatch, as symbols of victory.  In the Black Tongue Vardatch is translated into Cleaver but the word is changing.  Some tribes are already saying that Vardatch has always meant one thing:  Flame of God.

The Elves came next.  One was bundled up in leathers and fur, skin a dark brown, hair in braids.  The other walked as if he had a crown on his head rather than just the red skullcap.  He was clad in a dark crimson, like blood that has stained leather.  

They walked away to speak, letting me gather my strength.  I used this time to gather stones and make a sling.  I was quickly realizing that I would be useless as a Halfling in battle.  When they walked away the dusky Elf and the Northman kept their eyes on me but the Crimson Prince showed me his back.  He let me know that he didn't believe I was a threat.  It was a hard truth to realize that he was right, blood loss had left me a babe.  He was right for now.  Izrador willing, my strength would return.

The red clad Elf returned and spoke to me.  He took off his skullcap and proclaimed, "I am Vorden Qell, son of the Sorcerer of Shadow, the Night King.  If you serve Izrador you will now serve me.

"If you serve me well, I will put your arm back on and make you whole again."  As he spoke I examined the mark in the middle of his forehead and it was a Night King's sigil, burned into his head, black like a brand.  He cast a magic on my severed arm, taking the stink of rotting meat off of it.  

He could make me whole, return me to my strength, better to serve Father Izrador.
I fell to my knees at the thought of my sword-arm.  "I will serve you, Crimson Prince and together we will spill blood for the one true god."

The Prince put the skull around my neck, just as he had in my dream.  He had made a pact in the dreams, told the spirit he would bury the skull under a fruit tree in the Elven forest.  The spirit was to warn them if I sought to harm them.

We found the remains of the camp that we had ambushed in our dreams.  The chief had broken camp early and they were heading north towards the Karhoun Keep, wherein the Worm of the Fortress Wall resided.  The Northman knew of a Shadow weapons cache and he thought the band would visit on the journey north.

Sleepless and cold we made our way northwest to the cache, to ambush the band again, hopefully with less blood offered to the earth.

On the journey I had time to study my new companions and my new Prince, son of a Night King.

The Northman was called Karhoun Esben.  I knew the family name, a cursed family of Northern humans whose patriarch, Vildar Esben had sworn fealty to the Shadow first in the North.  He had been given unnatural long life for his kind and is widely known for his paranoia and bloodlust.

Karhoun knew the lay of the land and could track a goose through a snowstorm.  He was built like an orc, not frail and weak like so many humans.  I was eager to meet him once my prince put my arm back on, show Izrador the strength he had given his son.

Karhoun shared a name with the keep that the Worm of the Fortress Wall laired in.  This fact didn't escape me.  The keep was where Karhoun was headed when we all met at the crossroads.

Vorden Qell, the Scarlet Prince walked the trail as if it was a red carpet leading to a throne.  He held a staff that perhaps once had iron shods at the ends but now they were gone, broken off but he held it like a scepter.  He was prone to rants, loud and long displays that showed his fears and worries before furrowing his brow and casting powerful magics and taking action.

Baau was from far away.  I had never seen an Elf like him and they referenced his home, a bay.  He believed his wife was the Elf my former band traveled with.  He was sullen and focused, prone to chills created by the north wind.  He didn't talk about his home but it was obvious they were warm.

I never mentioned my own use of the Elf he thought was his wife.  I didn't tell him that there wouldn't be much left of her.  She cursed us during the first days, telling us in gruff tones how she would kill us and something about her sister.  After the third day she stopped talking, her eyes seemed to focused on something we all couldn't see, shock had set in.

We arrived at the cache, a dark stone marker the size of five men with the sigil of Izrador on its face.  I saw the sigil, a black crown with the rune for North upon the crown's highest point.

There were two hills, upon one was the cache and the other was clear.  Thick fir trees sat at the bottom of both, breaking the white, snowy plains.  I put my left hand to the sigil and pushed, opening the cache for my Prince, as they were worried about the possibility of a Legate's ward, doing them harm.

The cache was stocked with good Orcish full plate, barbed javelins with iron rings for looping rope, five lengths of a hundred foot of rope, and ten good Orcish daggers and five Vardatch.  We split up the booty from the cache and set our ambush, not knowing how long a margin we had before my former comrades arrived.

The Crimson Prince spoke to the trees, communed with them like a Legate would speak to his sniffer-demon.  The Prince, like his father, had powerful magicks at his disposal.  He handed them spears, armed them as if they were soldiers.  They swayed in the wind, eager to throw the rusted metal javelins clutched in their branches, eager to spill Orc blood.  Never again would I feel at ease in the forest, among the bloodthirsty trees.

Karhoun swept up our trail with the branches of a fir tree, making your footprints through the snow smooth.  Baau, the dusky spear-Elf glamoured a pit with a javelin tip in it, in front of the cache entrance.  Karhoun buried himself in a nearby hill.  Across from the cache, near the second hill, the Elves took to the trees with their bows in hand. 

I waited among the trees near the cache, sigil of Father Izrador watching over me.  I prayed for His blessing, hoping I could cover the distance, close and get my dagger to their throats before their Vardatch and spears could hack at my limbs.  But if I did die, I knew that I would speed on my way to the Halls of the North, to feast forever on Elf-flesh and drinking Dwarven blood with the One True God sitting at the head of the banquet table. 

Wind howling, ambush set, Karhoun in the snow, Elves in the trees, trees with spears clutched in their branches and their lone, one armed Orc hidden nearby we waited.

Baau waited to save his love's life after she had been used roughly by Orcs for days that, for her, would have stretched out for eternities.

Karhoun waited to finish his hunt, kill his prey.  He held the claw of the Manticore, claimed to have taken it from its corpse.

Vorden Qell waited to see if the trees would indeed go to battle for him.

I, Varduk, waited for _revenge_.


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## Harri (Dec 21, 2003)

Damn, Paka!!!

Your thread was good enough to persuade me to register here.  You have really got me interested in the Midnight setting.  I'm considering buying the set on Monday and using it in my own TROS game.

Great writing, BTW.

Regards

Harri


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## Paka (Dec 22, 2003)

Harri said:
			
		

> Damn, Paka!!!
> 
> Your thread was good enough to persuade me to register here.  You have really got me interested in the Midnight setting.  I'm considering buying the set on Monday and using it in my own TROS game.
> 
> ...




Nice to see someone else who actually knows what the Riddle of Steel is.

Thanks for reading, Harri and thanks for posting your compliments.  It is appreciated.

Midnight is a well-written world and the main book and accompanying supplements are well worth picking up.  I generally hate published settings and only got this one because it was a gift but this one really grabbed me.

This is only about a fourth or less of what happened at the last game.  I hope to post some more this week.  It was a whopper of a game and I get the feeling that we are all just getting warmed up.

The Riddle is a great game for taking new and old D&D settings and putting a new brutal spin on them.


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## ShawnLStroud (Dec 22, 2003)

Paka said:
			
		

> Nice to see someone else who actually knows what the Riddle of Steel is.




Ahhhh....  There's more people than you'd think.   I think folks just lurk.  I've got a copy of the Riddle and had actually been thinking about running Midnight using its rules.  

Your writeups so far are putting me back in the place where I want to play in someone else's game.   Keep up the good work -- I'm hooked now!


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## Broccli_Head (Dec 23, 2003)

I thought that I was subscribed to this thread! 

Well, now I am. Keep up the good work!

"The Riddle...of Steel..."

I gotta go and check it out. Thanks for the link.


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## Paka (Jan 3, 2004)

*The Riddle of Midnight - Varduk's Revenge Part II* Post 3


Only two hours later they arrived over the ridge.  Our scout, no, their scout made his way to the second hill, surveying the land.  They walked right past where Karhoun had buried himself in the snow and overlooked the Elves, perched in the fir trees.

The trees were swaying gently in the wind, almost seeming to twist at the bough.  If my former friends had been astute they would have noticed the way the trees didn’t move with the steady northern winds while javelins lay hidden in their branches.    

The first volley of javelins hit the five Orcs with terrible force.  Three died immediately, almost before their bodies even hit the snowy ground.  The remaining two Orcs used the corpses as cover, keeping their heads down while they took stock of the ambush.  The spear-Elf took aim; one of the remaining Orcs had his wife-to-be on his back, tied up like a calf at feast-time.

Baau fired his bow after taking some careful aim.  The tree was swaying, the Orc shifted, the wind from the north blew and the arrow flew.  Baau must have been holding his breath, praying that his own arrow wouldn’t be the one that killed his love after all they had been through, her being kidnapped by some Demon and him following her all this way to the Northlands.

The arrow found the Orc’s face, an audible metal ping was heard as the arrowhead hit the back of the dead bastard’s helm.  He slumped to the ground.

The last orc was the chief who took my arm.  Karhoun had already begun to make slow, silent progress from his hideehole when the chief broke and ran.  He ran around the hill with the cache at the top.  When he turned the corner I was there, waiting, knife in hand.  His eyes became large and he swung at me.  I deflected the blow and sunk my dagger into his chest.  Together we fell into the snow.

Karhoun’s bastard sword struck the back of the chief’s head, human blade finishing him with a half-blade thrust.

In the cold and the snow a Northman killed my foe.  Were I a whole Orc I would have killed Karhoun for such a thing but my stump was still raw and my left hand was dumb with a Vardatch, unsure as a Halfling with steel.

My heart was eased in that I was the last thing he ever saw before the Northman’s steel, bastard sword in a half-sword grip, was thrust through the back of his skull.

We piled the dead beneath the trees, allowing the firs to drink their blood.  The trees were still now; they dropped their javelins to the ground.  Having served my god in the butcher’s block that is called the Erethor I’ve never felt comfortable among trees.  I always thought it was the Elves’ arrows and magic that was to be feared but now I knew better.  The trees themselves wanted Orcs dead.  I would never walk with comfort in the shade of trees again.

Baau took off the Elven maiden’s hood to find that it wasn’t his wife to be but his love’s sister Laeli.  Apparently Laeli left their sunny bay to find her sister but it was impossible to find out too much more.  She had been battered and used beyond words.  I should know.  

The girl had left little markers near where my former warband had tied her up.  Apparently there a Sea Elf way of piling stones that tells passersby that a storm is on its way.  She left markings of a storm, her storm, all across the northlands.  This was how Baau tracked her, how he knew it was one of his people in the clutches of the Orcs.

The Northman and the Scarlet Prince didn’t believe me that this party was to hunt a dragon, the Worm of the Fortress Wall.  I explained, “We failed in a hunt for a Channeler in Baden’s Bluff and so the Legates sentenced us to hunt the dragon.  It is a death sentence but a glorious death.  If our chief hadn’t been inept, would have never happened.  That is why I challenged him and why he was so harsh in his reprisal.  If he didn’t put my down hard he would have been met with a different challenger every step of the way.”

Karhoun asked, “Why didn’t you run away once you were out of Baden’s Bluff, find a way to run?”

I responded, “Legates told us to kill a dragon.  Legates get their law from Father Izrador.  To disobey them is to disobey the Shadow in the North.”

We piled the bodies under the trees that threw javelins for us.  Karhoun lopped off the heads, hands and feet to avoid creating Fell.

Baau saved his fellow Sea Elf, maiden sister to his true love.  Fool.

Karhoun got to hunt the Shadow, something he seemed to enjoy.  Dangerous.

Vorden Qell, the Scarlet Prince and my lord, communed with trees and turned them to bloodletting.  Powerful, but a gut instinct, something deep inside me cannot stop being disgusted at taking orders from an Elf.  

I got my revenge, saw those who crippled me, made me less of a useful tool to father Izrador die and bleed.

We camped that night a few miles west of the cache.  They were all deathly afraid of the road, scared of gaining the attention of a Legate.  The Scarlet Prince wanted to work a spell on the cache’s stone that bore the sigil of the Shadow.  We made a cold camp and were awakened in the night by Laeli’s screaming.  I wondered how long before Baau would call me out, looking for my blood on his spear in vengeance for what I had done with his love’s sister before I was in service to the Scarlet Prince.

The Elves didn’t sleep so much as meditate.  When the sun rose, we moved back toward the northern road to Karhoun’s keep.  But first we stopped again at the weapons cache and Vorden Qell stood before the stone with the One God’s sigil upon it and began to cast powerful magicks.

When he was done the Shadow’s sigil was gone and some other symbol was there.  Karhoun revered this sigil, said it was his House, the Esben family crest.  They reasoned that this cache was once a burial mound for his family.  The Northman did his petty rituals to his ancestors, leaving tiny clay figures that represented something important to him.

We traveled at an easy pace towards the road to Karhoun Keep, Karhoun’s Road, which led to the Fortress Wall.  The girl was slowing us down but they seemed to have great mercy for her.  We camped in under boughs of a great fir tree, not unlike the ones that threw spears in our battle.  My sleep was uneasy, filled with nightmares of axes and blood.


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## Broccli_Head (Jan 4, 2004)

Like the one-armed orc's perspective....

Ordered TROS...can't wait until it comes. Will be playing a campaign on Harn/Lythia/Kethria.

B.H. aka the Ivinian


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## handforged (Jan 4, 2004)

*~*

I finally got home and caught up in this SH.  I must admit that I like the progression of events.  The Riddle of Steel looks like it is an interesting system.  I don't really like hearing the story through the point of view of the orc, because I feel like I am missing out on things that the orc either doesn't know about or doesn't understand and therefore brushes off.  I am very excited about Vorden being back in the group but I am curious as to what Karhoun will do about him, especially with the promise he made to his father.

~hf


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## Paka (Jan 5, 2004)

handforged said:
			
		

> I finally got home and caught up in this SH.  I must admit that I like the progression of events.  The Riddle of Steel looks like it is an interesting system.  I don't really like hearing the story through the point of view of the orc, because I feel like I am missing out on things that the orc either doesn't know about or doesn't understand and therefore brushes off.  I am very excited about Vorden being back in the group but I am curious as to what Karhoun will do about him, especially with the promise he made to his father.
> 
> ~hf




Handforged, I hear ya.

We won't have Karhoun's POV for a while yet but the latter part of this night's adventure had some GORGEOUS Karhoun moments, really character defining stuff.

I don't like writing from a PC's POV unless they give me some notes so I can write what they were thinking when stuff happens.  Otherwise I feel like I am putting thoughts intheir heads and that isn't my job, it is the job of the player.  In the end, I'd like a nice written chronicle of a campaign and putting thoughts in the PC's heads would make it feel false to me.

I am excited about Vorden being back too, both as a character and to have Vorden's player and creator as a player in the game.  He's a dynamic guy and he plays Vorden's Overconfidence to the hilt.

I will talk more about the group's past in later posts.  This game was just starting to get hot right as this post ended.  I hope to have time at the end of this week.

Thanks for reading and thanks even more for letting me know what you think of the Story Hour.  I'll let Karhoun's player, JJ, know that there has been  request for more Karhoun POV and maybe that will get him to write me notes after each game again.

Thanks for reading.


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## Broccli_Head (Jan 6, 2004)

Exactly what *handforged*dislikes, I like about the post. We get scant details and our imaginations are left to fill out the rest. 

But I think we both agree that we want MORE STORY!!!


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## Paka (Jan 8, 2004)

*The Riddle of Midnight - Varduk's Revenge Part III *- Post 4

The Elves didn’t sleep so much as meditate.  When the sun rose, we moved back toward the northern road to Karhoun’s keep.  But first we stopped again at the weapons cache and Vorden Qell stood before the stone with the One God’s sigil upon it and began to cast powerful magicks.

When he was done the Shadow’s sigil was gone and some other symbol was there.  Karhoun revered this sigil, said it was his House, the Esben family crest.  They reasoned that this cache was once a burial mound for his family.  The Northman did his petty rituals to his ancestors, leaving tiny clay figures that represented something important to him.

We traveled at an easy pace towards the road to Karhoun Keep, Karhoun’s Road, which led to the Fortress Wall.    We made our camps in the boughs of great fir trees, lighting no fires for warmth.  Karhoun kept us in food, but game was scarce this far north.  Still, this snowy wasteland to them was a bountiful land compared to the Orcish homelands in the northern parts of the Kaladun Mountains.

During the nights I would pretend to sleep oftentimes, listen to the fools speak.  Vorden asked his Northman friend what happened after they parted ways in Whitecliff.  Karhoun told his tale in the cold night, breath trailing out puffs of cold fog.

“I went to Port Esben, to take our Legate friend to Baden’s Bluff.  I never got there.  I ran afoul of a band of Oruk, so’s not to appear to my kin.  They set me up, sent word of a runaway Channeler that I was supposed to hunt for my father.  My sister and I went to hunt the girl and were ambushed by Oruk, high Orcs, bred for nothing but battle and killing for Izrador.

“I dueled their leader and he dropped me but didn’t want to kill me, in fear of my father.  They were going to take me to Steel Hill, doomed to a life of slavery in the mines.  I convinced their leader to use me and my sister.

I believe my brother set me up, my Legate brother.  His Astirax led us to the Channeler but was nowhere to be found when we were captured.  I think my own brother sold me into a life of slavery.

“A Shadow Prince of Bastion, Sameal, killed a Dark Dryad, a gift from the Shadow.  These Oruk are in charge of bringing Izrador’s monsters to his minions.  They wanted him to die.  So, I burned his fields in order to embarrass him, hoping the Shadow would do my work for me.”

Vorden laughed.  “You were doing insurgent work on behalf of the Shadow?”

Karhoun nodded, grim.

Vorden gestured wildly, red robes making him all the more dramatic.  “My friend, that is fantastic!  Brillaint!”

Karhoun killed the mirth when he responded, “My father wants me to bring your head to him.  I have a year to do so.”

Vorden smiled.  “Are you going to do it?”

Karhoun shrugged.  “Not tonight.”

Two days later we were at camp when a voice rang out from the darkness.  “I could kill at least one of ya before ya found a place to hide.  Tis a good moonlit night, it is.

“I reckon I’ll kill the red Elf first, don’t want no glamours put on me.”

Karhoun spoke first, “We want no trouble.”

“I want no parley with those who travel in company of Orcs.”

I whispered, “Let me kill him.”

Vorden snarled, “Shut up, Varduk.”

Karhoun spoke again, hands up and out, palms up, “I am Karhoun Esben, Ironblooded who set fire to Bastion.”

That made the man break cover, a sinewy bald man with deerskins on, and stone-tipped arrows.  “I heard of your handiwork.  Why traveling with the likes of this?”  He motioned to me as if I were vermin.

I responded in Dornish, “Old man, I could snap your neck before you-“

My Lord, the Crimson Prince commanded, “Varduk, go away from camp, secure the perimeter.”

They made words while I found a good spot for the Shadow’s will.  Izrador doesn’t answer the prayers of the weak.

A half-hour later I re-entered camp, after I knew without a doubt the old Wildlander had left.  We set watches and went to sleep.  I slept easily, knowing that despite my missing arm, Father Izrador would answer my prayers.


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## Paka (Jan 8, 2004)

Sorry about the short update.  There should be another in the next 48 hours.

Next Post:  Dire Wolf, Laeli Speaks, Approaching Karhoun Keep and a brief look at the small village of Yggdra


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## Broccli_Head (Jan 8, 2004)

The orc's an NPC, right?


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## Paka (Jan 9, 2004)

Broccli_Head said:
			
		

> The orc's an NPC, right?




Yes, the Orc is in fact an NPC.


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## Paka (Jan 9, 2004)

*The Riddle of Midnight - The Last of Varduk * - Post #5

_"Many that live dserve death.  And some that die deserve life.  Can you give it to them?  Then do not be too eager to deal out death in judgement.  For even the very wise cannot see all ends."_

    - Fellowship of the Ring - Shadow of the Past, J.R.R. Tolkien

The next morning they found Cal's dead body and realized that I had done it.  I had to, he made me appear weak in front of what was taking the place of my tribe.  

I awoke to a horrible beating, remaining hand destroyed by Karhoun’s blade.  I could do nothing, a one armed Orc, now without a hand.  They bound me and took me down the trail.  The Wildlander’s name had been Cal, they found his Wildlander markings, rocks, notches in trees or marks on boulders that could lead the wise to his cave.  

I never saw the inside of his cave.  They beat me until I was unconscious.  The next thing I would see would be the Sea Elf girl, Laeli with a jagged knife in her hands.  It would also be the last thing I’d see.

I died the death of a weakling.  Izrador will no doubt throw me from the Northlands, where his blessed reside, cast me out into the sea to spend an eternity drowning.

Laeli’s Awakening

It was the warmth that brought me to consciousness, brought me back from where I had been.

I don’t remember much of my time with the Orcs, which is for the best.  The body is just a shell, Elves, who spend centuries in their shells, are more aware of this than most.  I remember seeing Baau, but it was like his face was just being seen through a haze.  I assumed he was a hallucination, suddenly seeing the boy I was in love with, who was betrothed to my sister while enduring great pain.

But the truth of it was less simple than that.  He had rescued me from the Orcs.  I remember the kind Wildlander’s face.  His name was Cal and he spoke to me, introducing himself, while he sat with the others, made palaver by the fire.  

The next thing that I remember was the hatred, the fury.  I had to kill my sister.  The cold of the northwind, being debased by foul Orcs, Baau’s doomed quest to find her, all of these things were her fault.  However, when Baau asked me why I must take the knife to her I couldn’t explain why.  The words got caught behind my teeth, lost in my broken shell.

They had taken me to Cal’s home, a cave with a spring within it, the spring heated and wondrous.  It was the first time that I could remember being warm, being tenderly bathed by Baau.  I took stock of my body and saw that I would live, and that fighting wasn’t beyond me.  I found marks, bruises, cuts and scrapes on my body that shocked me.  If I had found such things on another I would have wailed in pain for what they had been through but I kept this to myself.

Cal’s mother had left clothes, warm deerskin that was good for the climate and fit me well.  After bathing I put on my clothes and intended to go outside, admire nature, but Baau was there, his brown eyes looking at me in pain.  His friends had the sense enough to leave us some privacy or their chores outside kept them busy.

“Why did you leave the bay?” he asked.

I responded, “I had to find my sister.  I intended to kill her.  You should know this as I wish to hide nothing from you.”

He shook his head, as if I were still a little girl on the beach, wanting to dive into the ruins with the older kids.  “I can’t let that happen.  She is my betrothed and I am sworn to save her.  Why do you want to kill her?”

Again, the words were stuck in me.  My sister, Lonet, was known as the Gem of the Muransil, the Gem of the Bay.  When she was a little girl her gifts were as such that she was taken to the Witch Queen, where it was determined that she would be the Witch Queen’s own apprentice, an Avatar of some kind.  Since that was declared she was treated as a holy relic among my people.

Then Lonet fell in love with Baau, one of the best spears in the bay, a promising warrior.  No doubt her amazing powers kept from her that I had been in love with Baau.  

“I can’t explain why I must kill her, Baau.  Please.  Take me home.  Let us go home and our families can reconcile and you can marry me instead of her.”

His eyes told me his answer.

I left the cave.  

Karhoun was a beast of a Northman.  A scar on his face marred his blonde beard.  His hands were dirty and raw from building Cal’s burial mound.

Vorden Qell wore a red, shiny skullcap over his bald head.  Vorden presented me with Cal’s ragged knife, which had been passed down to Cal from his father, a rusty steel knife, an heirloom, a treasure to that kind man.

The Wood Elf sneered, “This is for you.  We have something for you to do.  We’ve left this to you.”

The Orc was an abomination, one stump raw and newly healed, hand a mangled mess.  He sneered at me and cursed in Black Tongue.  Karhoun, understanding his words, moved to strike him but Vorden stayed his hand.  “Let her do this, Karoun, this could help her.”

I looked at the knife and the helpless Orc and understood.  I was to kill this creature.  Karhoun asked, “Can you and will you?”

Mercy was what I was taught.  You only killed when you had to, when you must.  You killed Orcs when they invaded your home.  This was different.  This creature was helpless.

I couldn’t remember his face but the smell of him as I approached his smell brought back memories.  I remembered the legs, the stones, the trees and the ways they tied me up.  I remembered making stone markings, tiny pebbles that were markers left to others in my homelands, to show that a storm was coming.  If the storm came, the pebbles would be swept away.  

I remembered my storm and I thought about Cal’s kind, weathered face and I took the jagged dagger to the Orcs neck.  It wasn’t sharp enough to cut and so I stabbed.  By the end I lost count of the stabbings.  After waiting to hear the Orc’s breath expire, I walked away.  Karhoun nodded in approval and saw to the body, chopping off the head and feet, to avoid him rising later as Fell.


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## Broccli_Head (Jan 9, 2004)

I guess I missed something...did Varduk murder Cal?

What a viscious, viscious world   

BTW, we played our first "campaign cannon" session in the TROS/Harn game. Both of the PCs almost died in pre-game!

Gotta love the grit and deadliness that TROS provides


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## Paka (Jan 9, 2004)

Broccli_Head said:
			
		

> I guess I missed something...did Varduk murder Cal?
> 
> What a viscious, viscious world
> 
> ...




Sorry, yes, he did.  I edited it to make that more clear.  I should really have made it more clear.  

Yes, TROS is a vicious system and in later posts we will see how quickly and brutally the combats go.  SA's become very important.  Anyway, if you care to discuss, just e-mail me, rather than clutter up the SH thread.

Thanks for reading.


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## Paka (Jan 9, 2004)

*The Riddle of Midnight - Laeli's Tale - *Post #6

_"Many sorrows befell them afterwards and they were parted long."_

   - Fellowship of the Ring - A Knife in the Dark, J.R.R. Tolkien (a reference to Luthien and Beren, the lovers Arwen and Aragorn were said to take after)



Everyone needed the rest that Cal’s home offered, but the sadness of Cal’s brutal slaying at the hands of Varduk weighed heavily on everyone’s mind.  I think Karhoun and Vorden blamed themselves to some extent, as it had been their decision to let him free.  Somewhere, in the back of their minds it must have occurred to them that if they had left Varduk in his crow’s cage a good man who had lived so close to the bosom of the Shadow for so long would still be alive.

We left after a few days.  I spent my time throwing the heavy northern spear, made for killing Orc, not fish.  It was weighted more like the harpoons from home.  Everything was different here.  The north of Eredane seemed like a world away from the white sands of home, the lands of the great sea god, Baalu and his nemesis-brother, Kaaktu, the great octopus servant of Izrador.

I spent my time also thinking about my sister and why I wanted to slay her.  The images of home came rushing into my head but I still couldn’t find words to make it clear to Baau why she must be killed.  For some reason I blamed all of this on her.  It didn’t escape my notice that Baau was treating me like a jealous little girl.  If I had the information he had I would do the same.

When we went to sleep each of my new travel companions went through their little rituals.  Baau, now that he didn't hve to take care of me, didn't know what to do.  He tried not to shiver.  The Northlands were not being kind to him.  He was used to fairer lands than these.  

Karhoun took stock and care of his weapons, weaved fabric through his chainmail in order to be quieter and watched the night as if it were a suspected kinslayer.

Vorden seemed oblivious of any possible threats, or just too confident in his own ability with magics to worry.  He took out his Lorebook and wrote down all he had learned from that day.  Sometimes he drew sketches.

Vorden was interested in me and talked to me often.  He kept his distance, though, treating me like a subject for study rather than a person.  Karhoun treated me like another able-bodied spear, at least.  But still, in his mind I could see that I was only another spear against the Shadow.

I learned that both Karhoun and Vorden were fostered to Theros Obsidia, which explained their cold hearts.  Karhoun’s father had been Vildar Esben, the first of the Northman to swear oaths to the Shadow.  It was unclear to me how Vorden, a Wood Elf, had been fostered in the capital city of the Shadow, where all Legates are trained.  I allowed him the time and the space to tell me if he cared to.

After Karhoun had hunted our larders full with venison jerky and everone had bathed and taken their rest we left Cal’s cave.  Cal was left in a burial mound, next to the mounds of his mother and his father.  Leaving was a sad thing, it was hard to shake the feeling that we were abandoning Cal.

Apparently during their talk with Cal, while I was still comatose, he mentioned a Legate who was a vicious hunter.  There were keeps, occupied by strong armies of Shadow, on either side of Karhoun Keep.  We were going to find high ground, to see as much of the area as possible, and plan our approach.  Karhoun Keep was named for Karhoun, founded by an ancestor of his, during the 2nd Age.   

We found a cliff that gave us a view of Karhoun Keep and the keep on the Fortress Wall to the east of it.  South of that was a town, Riismark, whose hearth fires were visible.  Visiting the town was out of the question, as Legates would no doubt be there and none wanted to catch the notice of a Legate who could track like Karhoun.

The Scarlet Prince called upon powerful magics that night when we camped in the highlands.  We made camp atop a high ridge.  He walked into a circle of trees and called upon not just the spirit of the trees, but the spirit of the northern forest itself.  The wind blew snow at the rest of us while he sat in the middle, in the eye of the storm, communing with a power.  These weren’t a few trees with spears in their boughs but the spirit of an angry northern wood.  The snow stung my eyes.

When he was done his hair had grown, his face looked more haggard.  He had called on too much power, more than he could easily handle.  The effort had aged him considerably.  

Vorden hissed at his friends in anger and frustration, “There is something in that damned keep, Karhoun.  The forest itself is frightened of it.  Goblin and Orc patrols skirt around the keep, never breaking cover.  Entering that keep is suicide.  We should make for the Erethor.”

Baau gripped his spear tightly.  “I must find my love.”  It broke my heart to hear him say such.

“I must find my sister,” I replied.  Baau made eye contact with me and we both wondered what would happen if he found her at the same time I did.

Karhoun was silent.

Vorden continued, “Karhoun, this is madness.”

Finally, Karhoun said, “Let me get close to it.  Let me circle it once, not breaking cover unless we learn more.”

The next morning we made our way towards the keep.  For two miles in all directions of the keep, trees were cleared, making for a barren approach for a besieging army.  We stayed in camp on the tree-line when Karhoun scouted the perimeter.  He came back white as snow, covered in some foul smelling mud, looking frightened.  “I found some tracks, Dire Wolf.”

“What is a Dire Wolf?” I asked.

Vorden opened his Lorebook and showed me a sketch he had taken from an Orcish report, a wolf larger than a horse that could fully rend a man in twain.  “Dire creatures can speak, Karhoun.  They are ever the friends of Elves and Enemies of the Shadow.”

Karhoun took out his sword and replied, “I will believe that it hasn’t been turned to the shadow when I see it.  For now all I know is that it has been stalking us for some time.  I found it going towards Cal’s local markings, looking for signs of him.  It might have known him and it might think we killed him.”

For the next two days we were the hunted.  We traveled quickly and quiety and Karhoun took us through streams whenever he could, take get the smell of us off of the trail.  The Northman took us through some nights of snow and due to the clouds, we lost sight of the sun, the moon and the stars.  After two days of frantic but careful running, we were lost.  Even time felt lost to us.

It came to a shock to all of us to walk out of the forest, nearly into a bustling town.  In the middle of the town was a tree stump so wide that 20 grown men, even these tremendous Dornish folk, could link hands in a circle and probably not all reach around.  It was awe-inspiring.  It stirred Vorden Qell’s blood.

“What is that, what is that amazing thing?” he asked no one in particular.  “Karhoun, what is to stop me from sticking my staff into the middle of that dead tree over there and calling forth whatever powers were killed?  What is to stop me?”

Karhoun whispered, “There must be a Legate nearby.  This town, if I’m right, is Yggdra.  It is north of Bastion.  I have taken us far from where I wanted us to be.  We are far west of Karhoun Keep.”

Vorden muttered something about the Erethor and continued to follow Karhoun east, towards Karhoun Keep and the Fortress Wall.  

A day and a half or so later wee came upon a tree and Vorden summoned forth its Dryad.  She spoke with us for a time, a simple Fey who only knew her Oak and her pond.  She wished us well and turned to Karhoun and said, “Do you love her?”

He replied, “I do.”

She said, “Love between man and Fey is always tragic, be careful, Northman,” and entered her Oak.

Vorden looked at Karhoun with a smirk, we all did.  It was good to see a human side to this might Dornish hunter.

Vorden was a good history teacher and he explained to me that the Fortress Wall wasn’t a wall at all but a string of keeps along the northlands.  When Izrador brought his armies south, age after age, the armies of man constructed these keeps, a line of forts to fight the Shadow.  The only ones still fighting the Shadow were the Snow Elf keeps to the far north west, above the Erethor forest in what the Snow Elves call the Veradeen.  But more and more of those keeps fell to the Shadow as wave upon wave of Orc and Legates and even more ghastly Shadow Minions fell upon our brother and sister of the Erunsil.

The next morning Karhoun woke up to a bird call and he smiled.  From behind a tree came three Snow Elves, clad in white furs, holding spears, with paired daggers at their hips and icewood bows upon their backs.  

Their leader, a little girl with straight white hair over no ears and blue eyes the color of my home bay.  Karhoun and this girl, Hishaya, had lit fight to Bastion’s fields.  She had pledged to him that if she could, she would gather what Snow Elves she could and take fight with the Ironblooded Northman again.

The Snow Elves she had gathered looked like reflections of the same Elf from two different mirrors.  One had long straight hair of deepest black and the other had a long braid of brightest white.  They introduced themselves as Jurev (the black) and Slovac (the white).  They were twins.  Their closeness, their brotherhood and the strength of their bond made me think of my sister, Lonet, _the Gem of the Bay_, and despair.

They were puzzled by Vorden Qell and asked how long he had been out of the Erethor.  He replied that he had never been there but deeply wished to.

Slovac asked, “How did it come to be that you were born away from your Wood Elf homeland?”

“I was born the son of a Night King,” Vorden replied, taking off his skullcap to reveal a sigil on his brow, the brand of a Night King.  Snow Elf hands went to daggers.

Slovac sneered, “No Night King is an Elf.  None.”

Vorden’s eyes grew fierce.  “My father is Ardherin and while I do believe he still has good in his heart, he is a Night King, Izrador’s servant, the Sorcerer of Shadow.”

Jurev shook his head and Slovac fell to his knees.  Hishaya, only coming up to Vorden’s chest, approached boldly and demanded to see the sigil on his brow.  After inspecting it she concurred, “It is indeed the melting of a Night King’s sigil with that of Ardherin, my mother met him once.”

Slovac seemed to be lost in pain.  “He was the greatest of Sorcerers, the finest Demon Hunter in all of the Erethor.  I was honored to be in a party in order to hunt a Demon of Ice when I was just a boy.  

“I never knew a finer Elf.  This cannot be.”

Vorden went on, “It is.  My father is the Sorcerer of Shadow.  I’m sorry, I didn’t realize no one would know.”

With three more in our party, everyone felt more secure.  The Snow Elves seem to feel no cold or discomfort and had keen eyes.  They moved like a soft wind, leaving no trace of their coming and going, one hand always on a knife, spear or bow.  It was later that day when we picked up on Dire Wolf tracks again.  Karhoun and the Snow Elves conferred.

“It was tracking something, we’ve come around and are on its tail now.  It was tracking some Orcs and Goblins.”

Another half of an hour brought us to the site of the ambush.  Half-eaten Orc, goblin boots, and gallons of blood were all over the snow.  Karhoun cautiously approached the Dire Wolf, who was destroying the stomach of a Goblin.

Its name was Moonfur and it was indeed a white wolf, larger than a horse and skinny, rangy.  His sinewy build somehow reminded me of Cal.  Moonfur was sad to hear of Cal’s death, praising the human as a good man, who always respected his pack’s territory.

All of our ears perked to hear of a pack but Moonfur’s tale was a sad one.  “My mother, brothers and sisters were all hunted and killed by the Legate Huntress, Nimrotia.  I howl just thinking about it.  She is a vicious bitch and a cunning alpha for her packs.  If only you could have met my brothers and sisters.  I was but the runt of the litter and now I can only kill small packs of scared Orc and Goblins.”

Karhoun took out a barbed spear out of Moonfur’s side.  “I’ll tank it out on the count of three.  One, two-“ and on two he yanked.  Moonfur smiled, a giant wolf grin.  “You Northman always pull on two.  Thank you.”

After properly disposing of the bodies they made camp and told Moonfur their quests and hopes.  Moonfur covered a tremendous territory for only the runt of his pack and knew a lot of what was going on in the Northlands.  “I saw a carriage traveling north and it had the smell of an Elf, an Elf like her.”  And he motioned his nose towards me.

Baau stood up.  “Where did you see it?  Where was it going?”

“It was on a northern highway, little used, that the Shadow uses to move beasts to temples and keeps.  The carriage was going towards the Breeder’s Pits in the North.  It had a sigil on it but I don’t knew such things, only smells.”

Vorden took off his skullcap and asked, “Was the Sigil like this?” pointing to the brand of his father.

The wolf looked and replied, “Yes, that was it. “

Baau and Vorden exchanged looks.

We made camp and made watch.  The camp was rife with quiet conversation as we all became aquainted.  Perhaps my time with the Orcs has left more of a mark on me than I care to admit but I found myself sitting alone, not partaking of any of the conversations.

Baau and Jurev spoke of love and Jurev told Baau that if his love was heading towards the Breeder’s Pits than it was off to the Breeder’s Pits he should go.  “I will go with you.  Love is a quest not many take in this Last Age.  I will gladly take up my spear for this lost virtue.”

Karhoun and Vorden spoke heatedly about the virtues and flaws of entering Karhoun Keep.

Hishaya spoke about hunting with Moonfur.

Slovak and I sat alone, cold and miserable.  Slovak was still wrestling with the loss of his hero, revealed to be a Night King.  It made me respect Vorden all the more, living with his father’s disgrace every day.

Vorden argued, “I wanted to walk into Yggdra and awaken that tree but I stayed my hand.  Do you know what that tree was?  Once trees like that dotted the continent, and its leaves would burn like fire if Shadow was approaching.  It was a Beacon Tree.  The Shadow took the North and but it down.  The wood that it used to build its fleet, the fleet that sailed across the Pellurian for the Final Battle on the southern shores was made from the wood of that tree.

“If I can stay my hand and not call forth that anger and power, you can get this fool idea of entering Karhoun Keep from your stubborn Northern skull!”

Karhoun remained unconvinced but was showing doubt.

We circled Karhoun Keep several times.  Moonfur admitted that he was scared of whatever was within but had never seen evidence of anything.  He told of Goblins and Orcs who would dare to go up to the burial mounds, five in all, that circle the keep like points of a pentagram.

Vorden shook his head, “Some Fell Lord of unspeakable power or Demon of old is in there.  I am loathe to awaken it.”

Once Karhoun heard that Goblins and Orcs dared to break cover and occasionally go close to the keep he set off running.  Reluctantly, we all followed him, although we were under no obligation to do so.

The strangeness of the wind was striking.  For a while the wind would blow south.  Then, after a minute or so of southerly the wind would blow north.  After a minute or so of northerly, again the wind would blow south.  

Vorden bared his teeth and snarled, “You realize these winds are whatever _creature_ that is in there’s breath.  Yes?”

The Snow Elves, Baau and myself took watch around the mound, Baau’s eyes never leaving the keep and the breath seeming to come from within.

Karhoun came to the burial ground of his ancestors and prayed while Vorden took notes about the burial mound’s construction, taking  rock for later inspection.  The Northman smiled through his scarred beard and said, “Let’s try another,” and set off at a run for the next.

 At the next Vorden mentioned, “You know, I could summon forth your ancestors, call them for you to speak to.  That is well within my power as a Summoner.”

Karhoun warned, “I won’t have you binding them with Elf glamours.”

The Scarlet Prince assured him, “I will only knock on their door, see if they are willing to let you in.”

Karhoun nodded and Vorden began his ritual, attempting to summon up the spirits of the Esben Ancestors.

After Vorden did his arcane work, the door to the mound opened and Karhoun ventured in, Vorden in tow.  We all stayed behind and warded the doors, suffering that infernal breath from the keep, which suddenly seemed warmer than it had been.


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## The Forsaken One (Jan 9, 2004)

Interesting update from an even more interesting perspective. Curious to see where this all leads =]


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## Broccli_Head (Jan 9, 2004)

Amazing, Paka!

I am really enjoying how you convey the mood of the world through interaction among the characters. I especially enjoy the addition of Moonfur. Reminds me of _Princess Mononoke_. 

You're right about sorcerers, though. They have incredible power...I pity the party when they go up against a Legate or worse.


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## Emiricol (Jan 10, 2004)

Hi Paka!  Good stuff!  I updated my sig with both threads - I am the SH Pimp!


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## Pyske (Jan 10, 2004)

Love the story so far, Paka (both versions, 'though my favorite is the D20 so far).  Thanks for posting it.

 . . . . . . . -- Eric


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## Paka (Jan 10, 2004)

Pyske said:
			
		

> Love the story so far, Paka (both versions, 'though my favorite is the D20 so far).  Thanks for posting it.




Thanks, Eric.

The d20 game was more of a solo game and the player, JJ, gave me fabulous notes to work from, so I knew exactly what his character had been thinking.  THis not only allowed me to write a rockin' story hour but allowed me to plan for games, knowing where JJ thought Karhoun was coming from.

This game goes to some pretty rockin' places.  Can't wait to write up the entire first game and get to the second session, which was brutally dramatic.


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## Paka (Jan 11, 2004)

*Riddle of Midnight - Karhoun Keep * - Post #7


_All that is gold does not glitter,
  Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
  Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

-	The Fellowship of the Ring – Strider – J.R.R. Tolkien (known in the appendix as the Riddle of Strider)_


When Karhoun came out of Baldrin's tomb* he appeared to have renewed something long lost in him.  He looked at the keep and felt its warm breath on his face.  Before anyone could ask what he saw within the mound, he began running towards the keep’s broken gates.

_*DM's Note - I am hazy on the details of that meeting in the tomb and want to discuss what was said with a player before writing it out here.  I will write what happened within the tomb as a flashback in a later scene._

We all followed him, all by Vorden Qell and Moonfur, who watched with his tail between his legs, sure that he would see more folk he cared for die.  By the time he got to the gates his sword was out.  He clanged he blade against the metal of the gate and began to scream.**

_**DM's Note - JJ asked me what an old Dornish greeting would be and I just told him, "Heroes of old would announce their great deeds of heroism."  Then he rocked da house._

“I am Karhoun Esben, and it was I who hunted the Manticore, alongside my brother Northmen.  I put Bastion to the torch and kill the Oruk who took my steel and sought to keep it.  I am a proud Esben, fostered at Theros Obsidia, taught to hunt alongside Goblins and Orc.

“I have sworn powerful oaths to see the world freed from Shadow.

I am Karhoun Esben son of Vildar!”

The ground rumbled and when the voice spoke, it was as if the words came from the stones of the keep itself.  “I too am Karhoun Esben son of Vildar and held the name before you ever did.”

The Elves all looked at each other puzzled.

“Allow me to tell you my tale, brother:

“The Third Age saw the last great stand against the Shadow.  They poured out of the north in uncountable hordes, screaming their god’s name.  I was stationed here by our father, Vildar Esben, highfather of the Esben Clan.  Little did I know that father sent all of the sons he knew would resist his oaths to Shadow here.  He sent us here to die and die we did.

I was driven into the armory and when they realized I would never give up they merely fetched masons and bricked me in, saving me for later.  I died for a time too.

“Eventually I came out of my mortal shell like butterfly from a cocoon.  My hoarding of weapons, my will to kill those who had entered my lair, my hatred of Shadow all perhaps played a role in turning me into what I am.”

“What are you?” Karhoun asked.

“I am a _Dragon_.

“I had heard legends of a Dwarf who hoarded his jewels with hands too tight and became a dragon due to his greed.  I too held on to my jewels with too tight a grip.  But my jewels are weapons and armor.  My jewels are this defendable keep.  I would not let them go, wouldn’t die like father wanted.  So, here I am, no longer a man but a creature.  Father thought I was dead and so he named another Karhoun, an old family name to honor the founder of this very keep, in the Second Age.

“You are all welcome in my keep, the Shadow has lost track of this place and so I have kept it for a time.  You should be safe here during your stay.

“Come in and allow me to offer you what hospitality I can.”

They all entered, all but the Elf, clad in Scarlet.  He sat on the mound, thinking.  At dusk I called to him and bid him enter, despite the brand of Shadow on his forehead.  He discussed with me his theft of a stone from a nearby burial mound and I assured him that while making that right will be difficult it is still possible.

With my personal invitation he entered but Moonfur had left, unsure of our fates, having seen enough death already.  They broke bread with me and drank of the beer that I had.  They were my guests and they were all bound by powerful oaths to destroy the Shadow.  Despite these oaths, personal passions, loves, drives and dreams were pulling them apart.  It is within my keep their future deeds would be planned and I was honored to be a part of harrying the Shadow once again.

I have hid in my keep, afraid of the _Shadow's Wrath_ for too long.


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## The Forsaken One (Jan 11, 2004)

MUhahahahaa?


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## Paka (Jan 12, 2004)

*Riddle of Midnight - Karhoun Keep Part II * - Post #8

I have no had guests in my keep in a hundred years.  Most of my time and energy has gone into masking my existence, making sure any of my kills seem like they could have been done by the Dire Wolf pack that patrols the area and overlooking my hoard.  It was odd to have such an eclectic group in my walls.

Karhoun was my half-brother and we shared a name.  I realized right away we were kindred spirits.  

Vorden Qell was dangerously over-confident in many ways.  It came across during our many conversations.  When he found that the keep's only books and scrolls had long since turned to dust, he took to interviewing me with his Lorebook open, scribbling away into the night.

Baau was the first Sea Elf I had ever met.  His dark eyes were always on the northern horizon, where he hoped he could find and rescue his love.

Hishaya was a dangerous Snow Elf, harboring dangerous hatred towards the Shadow.  It would be folly for anyone to mistake her for a little girl, no doubt many Orcs had tasted her knives who had made that error.

Jurev spent much of his time with Baau, talking to him of his love.  It wasn't long before they agreed to go north to the Breeder's Pits together.

Slovac was bereft.  He had learned something recently that had left him a hollow shell.  It would be a miracle if he made it through the night without hanging himself off of a rampart or slitting his own arms in order to bleed to death in the snow.

Laeli was the second Sea Elf I had ever met, dark brown skin like an stained axe-handle and hair in these tiny braids.  Like Baau, her eyes were northward but unlike him, there wasn't love in her eyes.

Everyone agreed to sleep the night and discuss their directions in the morning.  Laeli had no intention of breaking bread with her saviors in the morning.  She never got under her covers but gathered her meager belongings and padded through the halls, no doubt feeling my eyes on her, as my vision extends throughout this keep.

Laeli went to the highest tower in order to get the lay of the land before heading north to find her sister.  On the ramparts of the northern tower she found Slovac, white hair glistening in the starlight, his own spear-point to his own neck, contemplating his own suicide.  Her breath made little clouds around her face and her eyes narrowed at the sight of a Snow Elf, the great and valorous Erunsil deep in a pit of despair.

She whispered, "I know what despair is.  I know where you are, cousin."  He was no cousin of her's, she was referring to their races being cousins, I realized.

He sobbed, "I am shamed to be despairing in front of you.  You have been through so much more, so much worse than me."  But his hands stayed on the spear, the point pushing on his neck until he draw a little blood.

Laeli took off her glove and put her hand out, "Take my hand.  I am leaving this place and going northward.  My sister is there.  Perhaps you can remind me why I hate her so, or perhaps even why I love her and perhaps I can remind you what is in this forsaken world worth living for."

Slovac wiped blood from his neck and took her hand.  Neither realized the power of the bond they had just made, blood-annointed in the starlight.

She left a note for Laeli and together they trotted Northward, towards the Breeding Pits of the Shadow.

_Dearest Baau,

It is my most sincere hope that some day I can make you understand why I must kill my sister.  Taking on the mantle of kinslayer is not something I plan to do lightly but nonetheless, despite the shame it will bring my family, despite the banishment from the fair bay that we have called our home, despite her death sealing me from ever gaining your love it is something I must do.

Perhaps some day I will find the words to make this right.  Most likely I will not.

I am not sure what we shall do if we both should find her at the same moment.  I have no wish to harm you or any within our company.  I humbly ask that you allow blood to cope with blood.

Slovac has accompanied me.  Perhaps he can teach me my reasons for doing what I know in my heart I must do while I teach him a reason to live through his grief.

Thank you for saving me.  You saved me from a horrific storm and that is something I shall never forget so long as I live.  Thank you for saving me, thank you for nursing me back to health in this accursed northlands.

Love,

Laeli of the Miransil_

They left in the night without bidding me farewell or so much as a thank-you-much for my hospitality.  I gave them none of the gifts from my hoard but quietly wished them well, praying to my ancestors to watch over their tragic pilgrimage.


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## Paka (Jan 12, 2004)

*The Riddle of Midnight - Karhoun Keep Part III * - Post #9

Vorden and Karhoun met in the halls, on their way to meet in council with all who they had brought with them in their peril.  Vorden laughed and quickly said, "You're in love with a Fey?"  I cannot read minds well but if I could, the words in Vorden's mind might have been, _Poor bastard_.

Karhoun took out a green oak leaf, still vibrant despite the northland chill.  Vorden didn't need to consult his Lorebook to know it was a Dryad's leaf.  He only smiled and put his hand on his friend's shoulder.

We broke fast in my great hall, chairs covered in dust and dirt.  Where once they were united in purpose and passion, now they were divided.  Baau wished to follow Laeli to the Breeders' Pits in the Northlands.  Vorden wanted to make his way to the Erethor Forest, to see his native lands that held his father's childhood.  

Karhoun wanted many things.  The Northman wanted to travel the north, gathering Wildlanders like himself under his banner.  He wanted to gather every hermit in the forest, every son or grandson of a Third Age soldier in some forsaken wilderness and show them a purpose.  Come spring he wanted to light fire to Bastion's fields again, drive that blade deeper.

Vorden suggested that I burn the fields and that is when I broke my silence.  "I am a Dragon and a mighty creature in your eyes.  Izrador, and I am loathe to say his dark name this far north, but the Shadow has Dragons in his charge who can think back on the beginning of time, the cooling of the world, the breaking of the continents in an age when Giants ruled Eredane before the coming of the Fey.

"I have no memories as such.  I am still a man in many ways of the mind and spirit.

"Use me and you run the risk of Izrador sending terrible beasts unlike anything you have ever seen before."

It was decided thus:

Baau would lead a quest to find his love.  Jurev would go, if for no other reason to track down his brother, but also he went in order to fight for something beautiful.

Vorden Qell, the Crimson Prince, would accompany Baau on his quest and when Baau's love, the Gem of the Muransil was once agan by his side, they would make their way to the Erethor, to be wed in its capital city, the most ancient city on the continent.

Karhoun would return home to confront his father.  "Vildar is a kinslayer and it is his wyrd to be killed by one of his sons.  I mean to find out if I am that son.  I have unfinished business there.

"However, I swore an oath by campfire to help you, Baau.  And I am loathe to leave you in the northlands, when I could be of great aid."

At this Hishaya spoke, "Karhoun Ironblood, we lit a great fire in Bastion.  I brought my friends with me this far so they could see for themselves that you were like a Northman of old.  I will take up your oath and see to it that Baau is aided in his journey north.  I believe I know where these pits are and if you have business in your homeland, tend to that.

"Baau, consider me a poor subsitute for your Dornish Wildlander.  I will take up his oath.  If he had not been valiant and bold in the Bastion District, you would never have met me nor my kin and I would be a slave in Steel Hill.  Consider this Karhoun's oath fulfilled."

Baau, an Elf of few words, nodded, pleased with this arrangement that allowed Karhoun to follow his heart.

Baau and his company began to pack and provision themselves and they all looked at Karhoun and wondered if they would ever see him again.


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## Paka (Jan 12, 2004)

*The Riddle of Midnight - The Gem of Miransil's Love * - Post #10

<quote to be inserted here>

While Baau and company went about the hustle and bustle of their preperation, Vorden came to me with questions.  His Lorebook was filled with information, lore he shared with me freely.  It told of his time in the Dark Tower of Theros Obsidia and of his journies with the Gnomish folk upon the Pellurian Sea, what the Gnomes call the Ebon.

"I took a stone from a burial mound and Karhoun's...you ancestors were angry, are angry with me.  This is understandable and I want to make it right.  Whose mound was it, just east of Baldrin's tomb?"

I smiled.  "That is Bjorn Silverhand.  He was a brutal warrior in the First Age, when the Dornish first arrived on Eredane and made terrible war upon the Fey Folk, burning down the Erethor and laying siege to the Witch Queen's City.

"Bjorn Esben was a brutal fighter and always in the lead of his army's charge.  He lost his hand in a battle and fixed a six-fingered silver hand upon his wrist.  It was made from the Elves' Lore, althought Dornish Sorcerer's claimed to have contributed to its making.  The hand was given to the humans as a naming gift, upon their arrival to Eredane but the Northman took the Elves' gifts and made war upon them, not understanding the Fey Folk's customs.

"When Bjorn was fighting in the Plains of Eris Aman, he clashed steel with Alrin Hoard-breaker, the Wood Elf who contributed the most craft and lore to the Silver Hand.  Alrin was known for going about Eredane and reclaiming his gifts because he was the most generous when the Dornish first arrived and was the most wrathful when these humans took steel and fire to the Elves and the Elf-kin.

"Bjorn returned to his keep, Karhoun Keep, a broken man.  While the Dornish Kings made peace, Bjorn began to die a gray death from a long suffering infection in his wrist.

"Bjorn's wife, Freylina, was consumed with anger.  She crept away at night, leaving Bjorn in the care of her sisters and carried her longbow into the Erethor.  While the Witch Queen tended to her groves, Freylina fired her bow at the Elvish monarch.  The Witch Queen killed her with her own hands and sent Freylina back to this keep, with full honors.

"Bjorn died a gray death, while his wife was ushered into the Feasting Hall of the Valiant Dead.  Some say that Bjorn's wife did him honor but others said differently.

"Making that spirit pleased will not be an easy task."

Vorden asked me where the Silver Hand was and I confessed I didn't know.  When he looked in his Lorebook, he found fragments of the same tale from the Elven perspective.  This tale told of the humans, stealing artifacts of Elven power and how Alrin went across Eredane and gathered his works and makings to him.  On a statue in the capital city of the Erethor lies what appeared to be a Silver Hand.  Vorden closed his book and thanked me.

When Baau came to fetch Vorden and begin his quest, the Scarlet Prince asked, "Were you aware how dazzling our history is?"

Baau shrugged, "I am aware that Laeli left earlier and has a six hour head start on us."

Jurev joined in, "My brother is good with animals.  There are some wild ponies north of here, he commented on them to me upon our arrival.  If they can summon mounts, they will be impossible to catch on the northern steppes."

"First I must see to the arming of the heroes," I announced, "Come to the great hall and I will see that my guests do not leave my keep empty-handed.  Never let it be said that the Great Wyrm of the Fortress Wall was an inhospitable host."


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## med stud (Jan 12, 2004)

This is a great story, Paka! I really like it.

How much difference does it make story-wise using Riddle of steel instead of D&D? Like, how many things did you have to change in the plot and the encounters (well I guess the encounters had to be changed pretty much)?

And a little thing: If yo want a more athentic "Bjorn" you should add ¨ over the "o" so it becomes "Björn". I can understand if you feel it's unnecessary, I just figured I could tell you.


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## Paka (Jan 12, 2004)

med stud said:
			
		

> This is a great story, Paka! I really like it.
> 
> How much difference does it make story-wise using Riddle of steel instead of D&D? Like, how many things did you have to change in the plot and the encounters (well I guess the encounters had to be changed pretty much)?
> 
> And a little thing: If yo want a more athentic "Bjorn" you should add ¨ over the "o" so it becomes "Björn". I can understand if you feel it's unnecessary, I just figured I could tell you.




Thanks for the Bjorn aid.

The Riddle makes a whole lot of difference, as system often does.  I feel the game allows the player to tell the DM what is important to them about their character, through the all important Spiritual Attributes.  When players aren't getting SA points, it is really obvious and it means the game needs some tweaking to get back to the essentials.

Encounters and combat in general are much more deadly in the Riddle' system, especially when the PC's Spiritual Attributes isn't being utilized.  The game really has "fight for what is important to you" written into the mechanics.  The game's central question is (as you know) "What are you willing to kill for?"

In Midnight, hopefully, the players are killing for freedom and what is right but in a world this steeped in Shadow and Evil, those things can get messy and lost.

I haven't consciously changed anything in the plot but perhaps I would be more willing to throw in bigger, badder monsters in D&D, perhaps the Sphinx or the Manticore, who are hunting the people who killed their Chimera brother, would have already made an appearance.

Not sure.

Good question.  Thanks for reading.


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## The Forsaken One (Jan 12, 2004)

isnt it the sphinx and chimera that hunt them because they killed their manticore brother


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## Broccli_Head (Jan 12, 2004)

Glad I saved the best for last. Really enjoying the story and the more I read the more I anticipate getting TROS...


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## Paka (Jan 12, 2004)

The Forsaken One said:
			
		

> isnt it the sphinx and chimera that hunt them because they killed their manticore brother




Um...woops.

Scratch that one.  Sorry.

Yeah, what F.O. said.


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## Paka (Jan 12, 2004)

med stud said:
			
		

> This is a great story, Paka! I really like it.
> 
> How much difference does it make story-wise using Riddle of steel instead of D&D? Like, how many things did you have to change in the plot and the encounters (well I guess the encounters had to be changed pretty much)?




Aye med stud, i'm glad you like the story.

i've been re-thinking your question and the area where this game has changed most of all has been the magic.  Magic or Sorcery in TROS is heinously powrful, really world altering stuff.

I feel it is the threat of possible sniffer Demons and Legates that has kept them from realy ripping loose.

In the next post you'll see how huge the magic can get, how powerful it can be.  Brutal stuff.

Enjoy.


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## Paka (Jan 30, 2004)

*The Riddle of Midnight - Gift-Giving for Baau's Quest *- Post # 11

They gathered in my great hall, which has had no guests save dust and tears for a century.  The hall seemed filled now with Karhoun the Knife and his compatriots.  Baau was set to go upon his quest to find his love.  The optimism it took to head north for such a thing as love touched me.

“Baau,” I bellowed, as Dragons are wont to do, “come forward.  My gift to you is this mighty weapon, Heartspear.  It has a long history of spilling blood for passion and love.  Heartspear’s past is not without its tragedy.  Be careful of this weapon, Baau.”

Baau picked up the great spear with reverence.  “What is there to be careful about, great Dragon?”

“Anything made to maim and kill in the name of love is a truly dangerous weapon.  It has a way of twisting passions.  Be wary, passion isn’t always a virtue, Baau.”

“Vorden Qell, come forward,” I bellowed again.  “Vorden, you are welcome in my home and you have been a good and gracious guest.  However, if you should come to my keep again, make sure the Shadow’s mark on your forehead is stricken from you.  I will have no guests in my keep ever again who allow a Night King to mark them like cattle, even if that Night King was your father.”

Vorden nodded solemnly.

“Vorden, to you I give this,” and I handed the Wood Elf a leather bag.  Within it was an iron shod for his staff.  “When the Shadow raided south the Druids stayed at our keep for a time, before making their last stand in Yggdra, by their great Beacon Tree.  Make this heal your staff and ease your journey.”

“Elven archers, my gift-hoard is not what it once was.  I am sorry.  I have only one gift, a single arrow to be split among the three of you.  But this single arrow is a mighty weapon against the Shadow.”  

On the table I placed the gleaming gem of my hoard, wasting in this keep when it could be out in the world, doing battle against evil.  The arrow was white like ivory, seemingly made from a single element.

“This is a Shadowsbane arrow.  Once Elven archers filled their quarrel with them and smote the Shadow with every shot of their bows.  They are born from Heartoak, deep in the Erethor and Mithril from deep in the Caradul.  Each arrow is a triumph of Dwarven and Elvish craftsmanship.”

They each showed appropriate awe, which made me proud.

Jurez, the Snow Elf asked, “What will happen when we fire it?”

“I don’t know.  It has been over a century since a Shadowsbane arrow was fired in battle.  Make sure whatever you fire at is of the Shadow and that your aim is true.

“I only have one, so Baau, you will be charged with its keeping.  This is your noble quest and so the arrow is put in your charge.  Use it well.”

They thanked me properly and left my keep, Karhoun’s Keep in the Fortress Wall.  I wondered if I would ever see any of them again, if my home would ever hold laughter and guests again before the Shadow sends a greater Worm than I to destroy me.

Baau turned north towards his love with Vorden and his Snow Elf companions at his side to see his quest to its end.


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## Broccli_Head (Jan 30, 2004)

Too short a post! Ah well, can't wait until the next one. 

I am definitely curious as to how you will handle magical weapons with TROS. Will you give extra dice to the CP? Lower ATN?DTN?


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## Paka (Feb 4, 2004)

*The Riddle of Midnight - Baau's Quest Begins * - Post #12

_"Tinuviel rescued Beren from the dungeons of Sauron, and together they passed through great dangers, and cast down even the Great Enemy from his throne…"

- A Knife in the Dark - Fellowship of the Ring - J.R.R. Tolkien_

Baau was of the Sea Elf folk and he walked northward because he believed his betrothed was in the Shadow’s Breeding Pits.  His wife-to-be was known as the Gem of the Duransil due to her dazzling intellect as well as her stunning beauty.  He had traveled for from his home into these harsh northlands and now the final leagues were just in front of him.

He was wearing faded leathers that didn’t keep the chill off of his bones and carried a spear known as the Heartspear, a Duransil longbow and in his quiver was Shadowsbane, a magic arrow.  Baau’s hair was made of tiny dreadlocked braids and his skin was dark.  

Vorden Qell was the son of a Night King and he walked northward because he pledged to his Elven friend that he would see his marriage to him reunited with his love.  “Your wedding will be in the Erethor before the Witch Queen herself,” he had proclaimed.  In a world such as this, optimism is hard to come by.  Vorden carried a broken Druid’s staff with only one of its iron shods attached.  He had gained the staff by giving a hungry Orc shaman his pinky finger.  The Orc had slurped the finger down his green throat before Vorden’s very eyes.  He had been through many trials since leaving his home, the Black Tower of Theros Obsidia and all he wants is to see the Erethor, his ancestral homeland, for the first time.

Vorden wore his deep red robes and a red chrome skullcap on his bald head.  He carried his staff and a lorebook, into which he wrote and sketched what he saw.  A fine sword was on his hip and a longbow on his back.

Jurev was a Snow Elf from the Highborn mountains and he walked northward because when he heard of Baau’s need he was touched to the core.  It was rare that one of his people got to fight for anything other than survival and he knew that it was a good and true quest.  Jurev’s brother, Slovac, was overcome with grief when he heard of Vorden’s lineage, that the greatest of the Wood Elf demon-hunters was now a Night King.  Slovac had left the keep six hours earlier with Laeli, younger sister to Baau’s love.  Jurev knew he had to find them.

Jurev had black hair that came down in two braids that framed his face.  Fur trimmed leather armor covered him from head to toe and the cold didn’t seem to touch him.  He carried a spear and vicious looking Snow Elf Fighting knives along with a bow.

Hishaya was a Snow Elf maiden from the northern Erethor and she had been captured by Orcs.  The fool Orcs thought she was a human because she had no ears.  Karhoun had taken her with the blessings of the Uruk, so they might light fire to Bastion.  She faces north because Karhoun felt an oath-debt to Baau but his wyrd guided him a different way.  Hishaya, respecting the ironblooded Northman, offered to go in his stead.  “I am at least as useful as you on the trail, Karhoun.  Go to your business and I will stand in your place, see your oath fulfilled, see that Baau finds his love.”

Hishaya was a tiny thing, barely five feet.  Her long straight, white hair came straight down her head and her blue eyes were striking.  Her spear was larger than she was but she held it easily, along with paired Snow Elf fighting knives and a bow.

Together they stood outside of Karhoun Keep.  They could still feel the dragon’s breath on their backs but the cold winter wind taunted them from the north.

Vorden asked, “How much of a lead do they have on us?”

Jurev responded, “Perhaps six hours.  But there are ponies in the northern plains.  My brother spoke of them.  He is gifted with animals, knows their minds well.  If they reached the steeds, they will be well on their way.”

Baau shook his head.  “Laeli cannot reach her sister before I do.  She intends to kill her.”

Vorden confronted his friend.  “Baau, do we make our way to Laeli or do we head straight for the pits?  Which is it?”

Baau’s lips were a tight line.  He was not used to a leadership position.  Baau enjoyed being silent and reliable but leading other Elves into battle or to certain death was new to him.  He thought for a long moment before responding, “The Pits.”

Vorden rolled up his crimson sleeves.  “Allow me to try something.”

Vorden stripped to the waste, ignoring the cold.  He called down powerful magics.  Wind whipped snow and black storm clouds rolled across the sky, summoned by Vorden Qell, son of the Shadow’s own Sorcerer.  The Storm itself spoke with words of thunder from a mouth of cloud and a throne of sky.

“Great stormcloud, I am Vorden Qell, son of the Night King and I would like to humbly ask if you could take my friends and I to the Shadow’s own Breeding Pits.”

“Storm King!  I am the King of Storms, Elf.  You have summoned that which you cannot possibly unsummon.  You have reached too high with your spells, foolish Wood Elf.  What business have you in the Breeder’s Pits, are you a Shadowspawn?”

Vorden responded, head bowed, “No, great Storm King, we are searching for my friend’s love.  She has been kidnapped by the Shadow for some dark purpose that we do not yet know.  We seek to rescue her.” 

“I have no love for the Shadow, Elf.  None at all.  I will take you and your friends to the Breeding Pits.  I know where they are.  But after you have attempted to rescue this love you must go on an errand for me.  I have business in the Kaladun Mountains, among the Dwarves, and I have need of a messenger there.  Will you do my chores in the Kaladrun Mountains, Elf?”

Vorden’s eyes narrowed.  “What kind of errand?”

The Storm King explained, “I entrusted the Dwarves with three artifacts and wish them returned to me.  I would have you deliver a missive to a Dwarven King and take the three artifacts he gives you back to the surface, so that I might hold them again.  The Dwarven folk have closed their doors to the air and the sky these days and I can hold no council with them.”

Vorden nodded.  “Take me and my friends to the Breeding Pits of Izrador and I will do this errand for you, great Storm King.”

The Storm King chuckled.  “As if you had a choice, little Elf.  You have no means to send me away or defeat my lightnings.  Come, let us away.”

Powerful winds took them from the ground to the clouds.  They could stand on the surface of the black storm clouds as if they were soft marshy ground, wet with dew.  They watched Eredane pass beneath them through the Eyes of the Storm.  Lightning lit their way.

Vorden looked pleased with himself.  “This, my friends, is a fine, fine way to travel.”


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## Broccli_Head (Feb 4, 2004)

Holy Major Summoning!

Are you going to show this spell on the Forge? How about the magic items?


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## handforged (Feb 4, 2004)

sweet.

seriously.


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## Paka (Feb 4, 2004)

*The Riddle of Midnight - Into the Pits * - Post # Unlucky 13

_DM's Note:  Yes, Karhoun has gone in a different direction than the rest of the party again.  We talked about it as a group and I was more than happy with the idea of each character going in a different direction but that didn't happen.  Baau and Vorden went north while Karhoun looked to the south, towards home.  

JJ, player of Karhoun, made up Jurez, an introduced but not much fleshed out NPC.  For those familiar with the Riddle, when they made up an NPC, they got to keep their Insight points towards their main character.  For those who are fans of Karhoun Esben, you are not alone.  Yesterday on the phone JJ said, We have to game again and get this Elfy stuff out of the way, get back to Karhoun.  I agreed.  The Return of Karhoun will be an amazing game.  I know I'm looking forward to it.  

Thanks for reading.  Enjoy._

They road the Storm King’s clouds over the harsh northlands.  Even the far-ranging Snow Elves had never traveled to these lands.  They passed over Orcish villages and Vorden asked the King to snow on them harder.  

Finally they came to a vicious cleft in the earth that was the Breeding Pits.  “They say this was made when Izrador fell from heaven to earth but I’m not sure if I believe such tales,” the Storm King said.

They were left a few miles from the gorge and the Storm King told Vorden, “When you wish to summon me, merely strip to the waste, as when I found you.  I’ll come when you do so and then take you to the Kaladrun Mountains so that you might do my bidding there.”

The Storm King’s passage had left these lands covered in snow and they found a pristine white path to the gorge.  Jurev took great care in covering their tracks, using a branch from a fir tree.  He and Hishaya left no tracks in the snow but his southern Elven cousins did not tread delicately on the snow as Erunsil did.  

There was one road to the pits and many smaller paths.  They tread around the road with caution and finally came within sight to where the road descended.  The gorge was a jagged cleft in the earth and at the bottom of it were the pits, where the Shadow bred horrors for his armies and for his amusement.

At the entryway to the gorge was a sturdy wooden plank with another plank crossed so it appeared like a small “t”.  Upon the plank was a crucified man.  His hands were nailed to the plank above his head and below him his feet were nailed likewise.  To the outward planks the Shadow had nailed the creatures wings.  It was obvious that once the wings were made of soft white feathers but now they were gray and ragged, like a diseased bird.  

Above the crucified angel floated two banners.  One was the sigil of Vorden Qell’s father, Sorcerer of Shadow, blessed Night King of Izrador.  The other banner held the moniker of King Jhazir, the Shadow’s Sword, general of the Shadow’s Armies, anointed king of all Eredane.

Vorden Qell’s mouth dropped open.  “That is an angel.”  He quickly looked in his lorebook and found a lengthy passage.  “That is a god’s servant.  He could tell us of life in Eredane before the Sundering.  He could aid us against Izrador, spreading hope to all who saw him.”

Vorden turned to Baau and looked him squarely in the eyes.  “I am sorry, Baau, but this quest has taken on new meaning.  Your love is no less important to me but now rescuing that divine being has become just as important to me.  I will not leave without him.”

Baau nodded.

Hishaya snorted.  “Prince, we will be lucky to leave here alive at all.  If anyone touches that thing there is no doubt in my mind that the Shadow’s hordes will follow them to the ends of Eredane, or less the Shadow wouldn’t have put the creature out here.”

“He was put here to torment us.  He was placed right in our view so the Shadow knew that he had us where we wanted him.  No, we are going to get that creature down and we are going to spread his hope to the poor people who have lived under Izrador’s yoke,” Vorden retored sharply.

Hishaya warned him, “Then think of a plan to get his wife out and us away from here with the crucified creature.  I would like to hear it.”

Jurev added, “I could scout the entrance, perhaps talk to the creature.”

Vorden looked at the banners.  “My father is down there,” he said, the banner’s sigil had been burned onto his forehead, hidden by his skullcap.  His father had pushed his signet ring onto his son’s brow and branded him with the seal of a Night King.  “Baau, my friend, I hope my father had no plans to wed your bride…or turn her into something  unnatural.”

Baau looked at the ground, all of the others looked away, not saying what they thought.  _If they wanted to turn her into something, she would already have been transformed into something unnatural._

After a discussion, Jurev and Hishaya crept up to the crucifiction.  They moved in total stealth, anyone watching would have seen nothing but wind bustling over the snowdrifts.  The creature had his eyes closed and the banners of two of four Night Kings fluttered in the wind above him.  The angel spoke.  “Whoever you are, turn around and find more hospitable lands.  These lands are cursed and damned.  Mine eyes have been replaced with a demon’s.  Please, go away and pretend you never saw this place.

“If I see you, the demon will see you and your life will be forfeight.”

Jurev asked, “How long have you been here?  What is your name?”

The crucified responded, “I have been here for a long time.  I don’t know how to reckon time anymore.  I don’t know my name, only that I was once a chronicler.  Please go.”

They left, returning to the southern Elves with their findings.

After much discussion they decided that Vorden would enter the pits freely, as a son of a Night King.  None knew of his actions these past months and so he would gamble with his life.  Once below the Crimson Prince would tell King Jhazir of a band of Snow Elf Assassins on the far end of the gorge, here to murder the king.  Vorden would attempt to ride with the King, so that he could divert him if it looked like Baau and his Snow Elf companions were to be uncovered.

Once Jhazir went to the other end of the gorge to find his would-be assassin the remaining Elves would climb down the gorge’s cliff walls and enter the Breeding Pits on foot.  

If they survived they would meet at the spot where they planned and make their way from this place.

Holding his head high, his overconfidence like a weapon, Vorden Qell proudly approached the angelic creature on the cross.  

The Chronicler begged, “Please, fair Elf, leave this place.”

Vorden replied, “I will free you.  But before that, open your eyes and tell my father, Ardherin, the Sorcerer of Shadow, that his son, the Crimson Prince has arrived.”

The Angel opened his eyes and they were black as the stones of Theros Obsidia.  “They Eye Demon is coming, Crimson Prince.  It is coming.”

Vorden was greeted by the so-called eye demon.  He recognized it instantly from his Lorebook.  The creature was a Beholder, created in the libraries of Highwall to remember books and scrolls, so that fire would destroy no information.  Izrador had tainted the beast, so Highwall’s greatest minds and lore were destroyed by the beast they had created to preserve just that.  It was a great floating skull-like head with one central eye above a great maw of jagged teeth.  Eye stalks crowned its head and two of those eyes glowed with a bright light.

The beast beheld Vorden with its many eyes and bade him to follow.  Having no other choice, the Prince descended the path, into the pits below.

The three other Elves stayed far away, hiding in the snow, waiting for Jhazir to begin his search.  They held their breaths and their bows, hoping Vorden would be safe and they would all meet him, free the angel and leave with Baau’s bride, the Gem of the Muransil.

They knew Vorden had baited King Jhazir successfully when his unholy host thundered up the side of the gorge where no road had been apparent.  The King’s steed was a demonic steed.  Fire rose from its hooves and main and smoke bellowed from its nostrils.  Every one of Jhazir’s host of 12 Shadow Knights road a steed like that but Jhazir’s must have been especially bred for size.  His steed was immense.  The host sped past the angel and left the King’s own banner on the crucified chronicler’s face.

The three Elves left their hiding spots and made their way to the gorge.  Just before climbing down, Baau turned to Jurez.  He took out the arrow, Shadowsbane and gave it to him.  “Jurez, take this,” Baau said simply.  Not asking why, or what had possessed him to do such a thing at a time like this, Jurez took the arrow made by the best magics of Elf and Dwarf for slaying creatures of Shadow.  He remembered the Dragon’s words, “I’m not sure what it will do.  Just make sure you fire it at a creature of Shadow.”

When the king and his company were on the other side of the gorge their trail was obvious.  Their steed’s hooves and main were signal fires and it was easy to tell that Jhazir and his host were far away.  Stealthily, Baau led the Snow Elves to the edge of the gorge.  Together they climbed down, always keeping one eye on the king and his knights, whose steeds were creating steam as it melted snow.

Jurez was pleased by the fires, it covered their trail to the gorge easily enough and made the king easy to spot.  Using rope, they descended.  When they hit the bottom of the gorge it didn’t feel like they were truly down so easily.  That is when the King sounded a note on his terrible horn.  The horn’s note sounded like a thousand babies crying or the strangled cry of a dead god.  It was the very music of horror.

Jurez’s knees buckled and he fell to the ground, into a shallow stream at the bottom of the gorge.  Hishaya took Jurez, throwing his arm over her shoulder but as they continued the hoofbeats could be heard, echoing off of the walls of the cliffs.  Baau looked at Hishaya.  Jurez was her kinsman.  She hid him well between a stone and a bush.  “I am sorry, cousin.  Please forgive me,” she said, leaving him as hidden as she could, using no glamours in fear of a astirax, or sniffer demon, smelling the Spellcraft and hunting them down.

Together, Hishaya and Baau decided on one of the many caves and entered, hoping Jhazir would not catch their trail.

Jurez came out of his state of comatose horror, not understanding where he was.  In front of his face, not ten paces from where he lay, a fiery hoof struck the shallow streambed; steam rose.

A voice rang through the night, like fire through a maiden’s hair.  “When I next see that Princeling, I will put him to the sword, Sorcerer be-damned!”

Another voice responded, “M’lord, there was a camp.  We found sign of Elves, about the same number as the Sorcerer’s Princeling spoke of.  But I lost their trail.”

The first voice barked, “How?  How could you be so incompetent!”

“Our steeds don’t leave much sign left in the snow, m’lord.  Our chase was less than subtle.”

The King responded coldly, “If you think as much of our steeds you can join the prince on the end of my blade, then.  I’ll kill that fool Elf, his son and his fool bride if I wish it.  

“I care not if the Dragon and the Priest scheme in the south.  Tis all the south’s good for anyway.  The north was made for blood.”

They cantered their horses down the stream, away from Jurez, towards the main entrance of the pits.

 Jurez gripped his bow tightly and silently strung his bow.  Kneeling he took Shadowsbane in his hand and pulled the string to his ear.  

The knights and their king were shadowy figures in the starlight.  Very little moonlight reached the bottom of the gorge but their steeds’ manes were unholy fires.  The king’s sillouette was the largest of the thirteen Shadowspawn.  Jurez’s breath caught in his throat as he realized that Jhazir must be nine feet tall.  His blade was a dopplehander that he wielded in one hand alone.  

Jurez aimed for the throat, just between where he assumed there was a gap between where the armor and the helm met.  If his target was a normal man, Jurez would be correct but his quarry this night was a Night King.  Jhazir’s armor covered him like skin, an unholy black plate.

They were moving but in a steady pace.  Jurez took a moment to familiarize himself to their motions, their rhythm before firing.  When the Snow Elf let the arrow fly, Shadowsbane lept from the bowstring like an ivory hawk.  The arrow seemed lit like a pillar of light.

It pierced the Night King, King of all Eredane, General of Shadow and he fell to the ground with a terrible clang.  The white arrow stuck in Jhazir’s throat, as if it was destined to be there.  

The twelve knights responded swiftly, as if they had trained for such an event, as if they always knew someone would try.  Three knights gathered around the king, in case of a more arrows.  One dropped from his horse and tended to his liege, while the others put their shields up, harboring their king against further attack.

The nine other Shadow Knights, personal honor guard of the Night King, wheeled around towards the attacker.  The Shadowsbane arrows were not made for stealth, their crafters had not forseen a day when an Elven archer would need to fire upon a Shadowspawn like an assassin in the night.  The arrow left a blazing trail of light in its wake and the trail led directly to Jurez.  

The Snow Elf desperately began climbing the cliff face.  He made it up a few body-lengths, ignoring ice and snow when he looked behind him.  The Nightmares of the Shadow Knights road up the sides of the cliff.  The steeds were galloping full tilt up the sides of the gorge as if it were a grassy hill on a sunlit day.  Their horses were snorting furiously as they spurred them with their cold iron heels.  Barbed lances were leveled at the archer who had felled their lord.

Jurez knew he only had a moment or two to react.  Quickly, he jumped.  There was a cave on the other side of the gorge.  He could see it by the starlight.  If he made it insight, perhaps he could take the knights one at a time, or even two.  Anything was preferred to being run down like a dog by armored men on horse with lances.

He jumped across the gorge from an impossible height.  The fall broke his ankle with a terrible snap and he hobbled a few desperate steps before falling.  

A few minutes later, the knights found him.  Jurez had no last words, only his knives out, ready to die fighting.

The first knight’s runeblade devoured the Snow Elf assassin’s soul.  After that they took his head, hoping that bringing it to the other Night Kings would save their lives, should Jhazir perish.


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## Paka (Feb 4, 2004)

Broccli_Head said:
			
		

> Are you going to show this spell on the Forge? How about the magic items?




I forget the exact make-up of the spell.  I play really fast and loose with the magic system.

the magic items are mostly SA boosters.  So, the Heartspear, for instance, was made to boost passions.  It gives 5 extra dice to anyone's passion SA's but it is also known as a cursed weapon.  Increasing passions has a price and the Dragon warned Baau of that (not sure if he did in the SH but he certainly did at the gaming table).

The Shadowsbane I didn't make up rules for.  I only knew it was going to unleash bad-assitude upon its user and whoop-assitude upon its target, if said target was of the Shadow.  King Jhazir is certainly of the Shadow.

The consquences of that shot should be far-reaching.  I've got a half-written write-up of a coven of Greater Legates who discuss it and how it has effected Eredane.


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## The Forsaken One (Feb 4, 2004)

Nice =] 

Paka could you please or someone else for the matter try to explain how the TROS magic system works? Since I hate systems that work with fixed spells instead of trying to weave magic freely to try to accomplish something you desire.


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## Broccli_Head (Feb 4, 2004)

The Forsaken One said:
			
		

> Nice =]
> 
> Paka could you please or someone else for the matter try to explain how the TROS magic system works? Since I hate systems that work with fixed spells instead of trying to weave magic freely to try to accomplish something you desire.




Here's a link to the TROS Forum Directory. 

http://www.indie-rpgs.com/viewtopic.php?t=7840

Basically, you have spell categories called vagaries each with three different effects and three levels to each effect (novice, apprentice, master). There are three types of spells, spells of one, spells of three, spells of many. Spells of one use one vagary. The others use more than one. You mix and match the vagaries and effects to come up with a spell, the target number for casting the spell/resisting aging.


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## Broccli_Head (Feb 4, 2004)

Paka said:
			
		

> I forget the exact make-up of the spell.  I play really fast and loose with the magic system.




Cool. I could probably figure it out. Summoning 3 most likely with a long range. I forgot...most spells will be "on the fly" as opposed to formalized. 



> the magic items are mostly SA boosters.




Rather than ATN/DTN enhancers. That's good to know.



> The Shadowsbane I didn't make up rules for.  I only knew it was going to unleash bad-assitude upon its user and whoop-assitude upon its target, if said target was of the Shadow.  King Jhazir is certainly of the Shadow.
> 
> The consquences of that shot should be far-reaching.  I've got a half-written write-up of a coven of Greater Legates who discuss it and how it has effected Eredane.




I can see that. I guess combat is just as deadly for big, tough Shadow Kings as it is for the pcs   

Can't wait to read the aftermath.


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## handforged (Feb 5, 2004)

I bet Karhoun's player would be ready to end his play as an elf after getting killed in the first encounter.   

Seriously though, killing one of the Night Kings probably has a pretty serious effect on things, even moreso than taking out the Manticore.

I hope for more soon.

~hf


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## Broccli_Head (Feb 23, 2004)

This story shouldn't be on page 5!

Hope all is well Paka, and can't wait until you continue the story


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## Paka (Feb 23, 2004)

Broccli_Head said:
			
		

> This story shouldn't be on page 5!
> 
> Hope all is well Paka, and can't wait until you continue the story




Thanks, Mr. Head.  I am looking forward to catching this one up to where the game is.  It heats up.

More soon.


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## Paka (Mar 4, 2004)

*The Riddle of Midnight - Together Again * - Post # 14

Karhoun Esben waited with his draconic brother in the keep along the Fortress Wall that was abandoned by the Shadow long ago and was shared their names.  The snow fell for days and only the Wyrm of the Fortress Wall's inner furnance seemed to keep them warm.  Despite the dragon's presence always feel close, Karhoun never saw his brother, only felt his breath or heard his voice.

After days of snowfall, it was hard to tell how many, the storm broke the dragon spoke, "A visitor approaches from the west, someone who will make the journey south with you.  Welcome them."

Karhoun nodded, eager to be out from the confinement of the keep.  He used tree branches to cover his tracks and found evidence of a lone woman coming from the west.  She had been lost for a long time and was wandering in circles.  Karhoun made sure that she wasn't being hunted or followed, hadn't brought trouble to their doorstep.

Her tracks led to a group of fallen trees that made a shelter of sorts.  Karhoun strung his bow and shouted to the shelter's entrance.  "Come out from there, I'm not coming in after you."

There was no response.  Karhoun sighed and took out several arrows, putting them in the ground for easy access.  "I will now put a few arrows into the shelter."

She whiserped, "As you wish, brother."  The threat of arrows brought her out from hiding.  She appearted to be an Errenlander, a mix of Dornish and Sarcosan blood, the mixture of northern and southern breeding.  Her hair was in a tight braid down her back and her cloak was held with a finely wrought Esben broken tower cloakpin.  

Delfestra Esben was an older sister.  She wore tight leather armor that allowed her to stay mobile.  Karhoun's last memory of her was that she had been sent to Theros Obsidia when he was just a boy.  She was to be the Esben family's first to gain the honor of Legateship within the Order of the Shadow.  He knew she couldn't be a Legate, she had the oath within her.  She had sworn in a mystical Oath Room to bring down the Shadow, to fight Izrador with her last dying breath if need be.

When she spoke, she spoke in whispers, "Greetings, brother, you have grown big and strong."

Karhoun grunted.  "I've grown as I've needed to grow.  Come, let's make for the keep.  I assume that it is you I was told to meet."

Delfenestra nodded.  "A dragon came to me in my dreams, asked me to escort you south to Port Esben."

Karhoun nodded.  "That is where I'm headed.  Come, let's head back.  We'll discuss this from the great hall."

She slowed him up quite a bit.  Karhoun thought to himself that she would be quite useful amidsts the scheming and plotting of Esben family life but next to useless in the wildlands.

When the keep was in view he turned to her and said, "I had heard you were at Theros Obsidia but I never saw you there during my fostering."

"I was stationed at the Fortress Wall, a keep just west of here.  I was an aide to a Legate there," she explained, whispering as if they were scheming back at home.

Prince Vorden Qell greeted them at the keep, back from his quest with Baau, the Snow Elves to the Breeder's Pits.  Karhoun smiled, "Back so soon?"

Vorden nearly spit.  "Not soon enough.  I have been from here to the Kaladrum Mountains and back.  Those mountains are a bit of hell.  I had to do the Storm King's errands."  Karhoun squinted, looked at his Elven friend with a puzzled expression.

Behind Vorden was a Gnomish figure that Karhoun hadn't seen in a long time and while Vorden and Karhoun's sister introduced himself, the northman approached him.  "I never thought to see you again, Gnome.  The last time I saw you, you were bleeding to death, stabbed by that Halfling slave."

Thannil rubbed the scar on his back.  "I have been in a coma since, then, my body fighting the poisons on that Shadow bastard's blade.  I have slept a long time."

Karhoun would have laughed if that was his way but his mouth only made a tight smile.  "Introduce yourself to my brother and ask to be allowed inside.  We must have palaver and discuss our plans."

Vorden agreed.  "I have much to discuss.  Our trip to the Breeding Pits of Izrador did not go exactly as planned."

Together they entered the keep, to plan their journeys home.


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## Emiricol (Jun 19, 2004)

You know, just as an aside - I'd love to see the whole epic written up into a novelette PDF.  Any plans to do so?  I love this story.


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