# Norannar  - Mor'Gan's Tale



## Tumakhunter (Jun 1, 2003)

I am Varnus, son of Dalzak, Lightbringer, Deathtaker, and the youngest of the Varnus.

     I have awakened in a strange new world, one that has never known the ravages of wars like I have.  Yet now they find it upon their very doorsteps, waiting.
**********************************

     I remember as a child, sitting on my father's knee, being told of when the Great War came to our People.  Father told me of how our people lived in independant cities throughout the World, barely even realizing that there was a World Outside, above all of our great tunnels and caves.  Any stories told of those who might brave such a place also told how they were swallowed by the Great Nothing that was above the final layer of Rock.  None ever returned, so none ever left.

     Then one day something entered our tunnels from that horrible Above.  Great swarms of Urukz, or Ravagers, entered our tunnels, slaughtering whole cities.  Before this, there were no other beings, only the People, and the various animals and beasts that lived in the World below.  Whole armies of "Not-People" were something we could not even concieve of, let alone stand against.  Thus these Urukz took numerous of our highest cities, only the deepest ones remaining untouched - yet.  As our lands flooded with refugees from the high cities, our People cried for vengeance upon these Raiders from the Great Nothing.  Armies were built, for the first time combining People from different lands and cities.  And to lead these Great Armies were chosen Twelve Great Warlords.  Dalzak, my father, was the youngest chosen, and proved to be the greatest of them.

     The wars raged for many years, as our people first retook our homes in the tunnels, then mounted stronger defenses against any further attacks from above.  Time passed and we began to feel we were safe.  Some cried out that we would never be safe so long as we did not know our enemy.  So we sent brave scouts out into the World Above, wearing the hides of our Enemies to disguise them from the Eye Above, in case the Gods of the Above would look disfavourably on our troops sent to slay Their peoples.  What those scouts discovered was both far more beautiful and ultimately more horrifying than anything our People have ever experienced.

     First, the Urukz were not the only beings Out There.  There were others, and they, too, fought with the Urukz.  The level of destruction wrought by the Urukz and their allies was on a scale unimagined, and it was all done in the name of some great godlike beings.  The sides opposed each other seemingly at random, allying or betraying at a whim from their Masters.

     Who should we fight? We could not fight all and hope to win anything but our own destruction.  We could not hope to hide forever, either, as it had already been proven that we, too, were vulnerable to any who would venture into our lands with enough force.

     At first we tried not to choose sides, to merely protect our own.  Again, we lost many cities to raiders.  Then we were approached by one of these Shapers, one calling Himself 'the Smith.'  This one offered an alliance against all comers, a mutual defence pact.  He(?) needed an army, and we needed the raw power that could be provided by one of the Shapers.  An agreement was struck, and the People allied with the Forger.

     Each Warlord sent his second son to be trained there in the ways of warfare and of the sword.  Our names were taken from us, save for the names of our fathers.  We would henceforth be known only as the Varnus, or 'Loyal Swords' of our fathers.  I am Varnus Dalzak, Loyal Sword of Dalzak, my father.  We were to be the elite, the best warriors ever produced by either our people or by the Citadel of the Forger.  Our purpose was one of death to our enemies, and we were given the power and training to do exactly that.

     Our enemies were many, from the Urukz to the Mekkanni, we fought the Gob-Lin, and the Fomor.  We even fought those already slain.  Each Varnus took a specialty enemy, one whom we trained the most diligently to destroy.  We became commanders of the armies of our fathers to best destroy our foes, and whole armies of Urukkillers or Deadhunters clashed with the armies of the Shapers.

     But the Forger had mercy on some of the beings.  Into the Citadel were admitted refugees of the Mekkanni and Chim peoples.  At first, we were against this, but as the plight of these people became apparent, as we realized that they, too, were innocent of the War that raged around them, we accepted their presence, and sheltered them, both in the Citadel and in the Underhomes.

     The day came when, after decades of warring, everything ended.  Darban had been defeated in a cataclysmic battle that destroyed completely his land of Moralange, and that slew the great Titan-Dragon.  For a time, his people were hunted, and the Urukz soon were no more.  Others, too, were destroyed in the Afterwars, but soon after the last of the Urukz were dead, the Great Forger told us that the Varnus were no longer needed in this place, but would be required again someday.  We were brought together into a chamber in what remained of the Titan-Dragon's body, and placed into a slumber that would consume us until we were once again needed by our People.

     We said our goodbyes to our fathers and to each other, and slept.
***************************

     When I awakened, I found myself alone in the chamber.  Looking about, I could see in the quartz coffins that the others were dead.  No.  Not all dead, rotted to dust, with nothing but armour and weapons to mark who had ever lain there.  Some few were missing entirely.  I looked around to see who could be missing.

     Was Varnus Giljak, Urukslayer, among those gone?  No.  I could see his armour glinting in the faint light of the room, the proud amethyst of the Giljak crest purple in the increasing light.  Taking his Gednyr, his great axe, in honour of his memory, I walked out through the opening in the wall, out into the daylight of a world I no longer knew.


----------



## Tumakhunter (Jun 1, 2003)

*About Norannar*

Norannar is a world of Steam and Sorcery, one with a wild southern frontier only recently being explored as the great Magical Storms that cut through the Gulf of Sorrows have begun to diminish.  These storms are the result of a great War for Ascension waged five thousand years ago, between the Gods and powerful Wizards, called Shapers, who would become gods themselves.  These Shapers often created monsters, or even whole races, to fight for them, rather than directly confront one another or the gods.  Varnus Dalzak is from that time.

In modern times, the dwarven people - calling themselves Duergar, or People of the Stone - have come to take a major political role in the shaping of civilization, as mankind and others recoiled from using any magic whatsoever for the next two to three thousand years.  It was only with the Elves' help that magic once again became somewhat acceptable.  In the meantime, technological development was well on it's way to becoming the sister of what crude magics would work.  Now, of course, magic is as strong as one would expect in any other realm, but the development of it (re)grew alongside the technology, the two complimenting each other as they formed.

The main races to be found in civilized Norannar are the duergar, the humans, the elves, and the amani - a small gypsy race of people combining features of Halflings, Gnomes, and just a little bit of Kender.  Then there are the Halflings - a slang term for those of mixed ancestry.  The most common are the Silvaan, or half-elf/half-human, and the Duermek, or half-duer/half-human.

Now back to the story...


----------



## Tumakhunter (Jun 1, 2003)

*A brave new World*

I have no idea how long I walked - perhaps for days - before I collapsed from exhaustion and grief in the clearing in the wood.  I awoke to the sound of voices above me, and, coming to my feet, challenged them, before noticing one of the People among them.  These individuals were an unusual assortment of beings: besides the Person, there was a Mekkanni, several half-breeds (one was half-mek, half People!), and as their prisoner one of the hated Urukz, whom they called Tumak.  I briefly duelled one of the halflings to prove my strength, but when more was demanded, I refused.  The duermek, called Mor'Gan, agreed to allow me to travel with them to Morrakin, where they also were headed.

It seems that Mor'Gan, too, was trained in the Citadel of the Forger, and that he seemed to lead these people on their quest.  They had only recently found these Urukz-who-were-not-Urukz, and wished to warn their lands of the danger presented by them.  Unfortunately, even their Nautrek wass so heavily accented that I could not tell them of the Urukz, and they spoke most often in a language that I could not understand at all.

I must note that the weapons of this era are amazing!  The members of this group all seem to weild wands or staves with the limited ability to, amidst a lot of smoke and thunder, hurl small pellets of lead with deadly force.  Mor'Gan, in particular, seems expert in this form of weapon.

My companions now are:

Mor'Gan, the duermek gunfighter, and holy warrior of the Forger (called Sentinel).

Feldon, a silver-haired Silvaan (whatever that is) forester.

Tarion, a druid of elven(?) and chim (called amani?) blood.

Victor a mekkanni (hu-man?) versed in the ways of science, particularly the sciences of life.  He seems to wish to follow a little too closely the path of the Shapers, in my mind.

And lastly Balin, called Stonebinder.  A member of the People, and caster of magics.  I was previously unaware that our People could do such a thing, but he claims it to be common enough.  I worry for his soul, for such things have been known to corrupt the servants of Shapers in the past.


----------



## Tumakhunter (Jun 10, 2003)

*Tolk*

For several days we followed the trail headed northeast out of the mountains.  The mek, Victor, seemed to enjoy complaining the whole way, disliking the size that the group had grown to.  As I understand things, he had thought he was in charge of their 'expedition.'

It was in the midst of all of his complaints that a terrible crashing sound was heard in the woods to our left.  Our chim companions darted into the trees to investigate, while the others continued their trek.  Curious, I followed into the woods to see what could be causing such a ruckus.  There, thrashing around in a crazed state, was a huge duer-like being.  Its mighty club swung around as it tried to fight off some unseen assailant, and smashed through the surrounding trees.  I stepped forward into the clearing it had created, but it ignored me.  Then I noticed the taint of the undead in the air around the creature.

Taking the Gednyr from my back, I stepped closer to the creature and tried to see more clearly where the taint was coming from, when I was hit suddenly by the great club that was swinging around.  I reacted, Gednyr biting deeply into the thing's flesh, and the chim in the trees loosed arrows and darts at it.  Eventually it fell, and I turned to see the rest of my new companions looking on in horror.

Balin in particular was disgusted at my behaviour, and we argued for some time about it.  He thought it some poor, innocent creature, and could not see the underlying taint.  I argued that I was doing it a mercy and putting it out of it's misery, while I shook blessed rocksalt over it's corpse to prevent it from rising again.

Later that evening we were still bickering over the incident when another mek, this one quite young, stumbled into our camp, led by Tarion.  He was tired and hungry, though he tried to present himself with pride.  He seemed to wish to stay with us for awhile, as he travelled.  Mor'Gan told me he was a student and hunter of things undead, and was called Howard.

The boy sat and talked in that strange, singing language these people all seem to speak, and after a while, Tarion brought something from his pouch.  It appeared to be a golden medallion, one heavily coated in amber, though I could still faintly feel the taint of undeath from it.  Howard reacted quite violently at the sight of it, and seemed to demand the destruction of the thing.  Tarion responded, and placed it back in his pouch.  The debate ran for some time after, but I went to sleep.

I awoke some hours later to shouting from the silver-haired one.  I could feel the aura of undeath in the camp, and grabbed my Deknus as I rose.  There, before us, was a great creature of shadow, walking into the camp.  The wraith went first for one of the chim, and as it slew him, Mor'Gan and Feldon opened fire upon it with their gun-wands.  It shrugged off their attacks, as I suspected it would, but then I heard Mor'Gan try to call upon the power of the Forger to dispell it.  The only result was it moving to him as it's next target.

As it turned, I heard a thunderous boom from Howard's hand.  He, too, had a gun, it would seem!  And it's shot seemed to hurt the wraith!  Uttering a quick prayer to bless my Deknus, I charged across the clearing to attack the foul creature.  Howard loosed several more shots at it, and between us, we managed to destroy it, but not before it slew two of the chim.

Carefully blessing their bodies, I took the remaining watch, letting the others get whatever sleep they could.  In the morning, Howard and Balin were gone.

We packed up our camp, and travelled fairly uneventfully for another five days, before finally coming upon a great road that travelled in a north-south direction.  The road looked quite new, and Mor'Gan seemed quite nervous about it, so we went north, following alongside it in the woodland.  Within a few short hours, we reached a great bridge that crossed a mighty river and into the stockade that Mor'Gan tells me had been a razed town known as Tolk only weeks before.


----------



## Tumakhunter (Jun 14, 2003)

*THe Siege of Tolk*

We made camp in the woods that night, in order to plan what we should do next.  The bridge was the only way across the water, and we needed to get across.  It was at this time that our prisoner, Tumak (which I'm told is not a personal name, but what the race call themselves), decided to try and flee.  He did not make it more than 50 feet before being felled by the arrows of our chim companions, who shot a very smug look back at Mor'Gan when the deed was done.

After burying the body where it would not be found (I assume that's what they did), the chim returned to the camp, and began discussions with Tarion, Feldon, and Mor'Gan in their language of forest noises.  Victor and I both watched uncomprehendingly, until Mor'Gan turned and told us that the chim warriors would be continuing with us to warn the northern peoples of the coming incursion.  Victor was not pleased, but no one paid him any heed.

The next morning, Feldon and Tarion decided to scout around the area.  There was an old duer miner nearby, and they wanted to find him to see if he was alright.  They did indeed find him, but he was extremely hostile and cantankerous, not at all as they had described him before.  It was decided that I would talk to him, given my race and status.  

Feldon led me to the mine where the old duer was staying, then faded back into the foliage.  I walked out and greeted the old duer, staying as polite as I could.  He was suspicious at first, but my armour and heritage very quickly put him at his ease.  We talked for awhile, and he told me that he was protecting the local homesteaders and their families, who even now are hiding inside his mines.  I invoked the blessings of the Forger upon them, and told him we would bother them no more, and would erase our trail so that they would not be found by anyone tracking us.

During this time, our three remaining chim companions had been sent inside the stockade on a scouting mission.  How they crossed that mile-wide clearing without being seen by the guards, or got over the bridge, I'll never know, but they managed.

Shortly after I returned to our camp, a great trumpeting sound came from the road to the south.  We all went to look, and what we saw sent a shiver down my spine.  Twelve Tumak riders, dressed quite finely, and armed with swords and guns, rode proudly down the road toward the bridge, banners flying from spears they held aloft.  They were obviously marching for show, to impress any observers from the fort, and moments later we could see why.  

A great carriage drove up the road, gilded and decorated as though to indicate someone of great importance were within.  Another six riders surrounded it, and in the distance behind, we could see trace of another large group of riders following.  The guard at the bridge snapped to attention as this contingent approached, and they all crossed the bridge and into the now-open stockade.

When they had all passed by, we slipped as quietly as we could back to our camp, there to make plans.

First, we needed the report from the chim, so we had to wait until they returned, which wasn't until the early morning.  According to Mor'Gan, my only real translator, they looked for signs of great industry, and were quite surprised by the arrival of the carriage.  As I surmised, it was someone of great import, a priest-general, from what I could understand of the multiple translation.  The chim had not found any sign of what they had been asked to seek (something about trains?), so returned to us as swiftly as it was safe.

We decided we would have to try to sneak past Tolk later that night.  Fortunately, the moon was only at half the last few days, and it would not be too bright, but nevertheless, I was forced to concede to removing my armour ang carrying it, as it would be both noisy and might catch the light.  Mor'Gan loaned me a spare outfit of his, and I changed away from the others.  I cut myself a new veil from the excess pantlegs, as my holy vows as a Varnus prevent me from showing my face to any but my direst enemies or my closest friends - my face is the only thing truly mine, after all.  All else belongs to my people.

We wrapped my sacred armour up in a great sack Feldon had, and devised a means for me to tie it onto my back.  My weapons, all except for the Gednyr of my dear Giljak, were tied into the sack as well, and then we waited.

When evening fell, the chim slipped out ahead of us, and, using their blowguns, knocked the bridge guards out.  One by one, we slipped over the bridge and up to the stockade wall.  Everything was going well so far, and once we had everyone across, we slowly made our way along the wall to circle the town.  Just past the guardtower at the corner, something shifted noisily in the sack on my back.  The sky lit up with some kind of searchlight from the top of the wall as everyone began a mad dash for the forest beyond.  But it was a good mile away, and the guards began shooting at us as we crossed the clearing.

Mor'Gan decided to create a distraction, and ran back to the wall, digging some small, foot-long sticks out of his coat and putting strings on the ends.  I didn't understand, but turned with him and followed him to the wall, where he began to place the sticks along the bottom of the logs in bundles of five, igniting the strings as he went.  Feldon had turned and was returning fire with his rifle, when a great fog rose up around him.

I was uncertain what I should be doing, but suddenly a huge explosion tore out of the first bundle of sticks, creating a large hole in the wall.  Another quickly followed, and another, as troops began to pour out of the first hole.  I ran towards them with the Urukslayer's Gednyr, screaming his ancient battlecry.  Cursing, Mor'Gan followed, drawing his pistols as he ran.

A few rounds were fired, and I had felled a few enemies as well, when Tarion's owl flew by and dropped something at Mor'Gan's feet.  Picking it up, he ate it, and I saw his skin take on a barklike texture.  This gladdened me, as he had already been shot several times, and, while not sorely wounded yet, was beginning to slow.  

As more enemies poured through the gap, Feldon shouted to us, and Mor'Gan grunted "Go.  Now!"  Turning, he ran back to the rest, as I held the flank as best I could until he was clear.  Feldon gave me covering fire while I retreated, and soon we were in the woods, safe.  Quickly, we arranged to seperate and meet several miles north, so that a coordinated attempt to track us wouldn't catch us all.


----------



## Enkhidu (Jun 15, 2003)

Welcome to the forum!

You have an unorthodox and interesting style - and though I don't usually go for 1st person stories, yours has piqued my interest. I very much like your use of the character's vernacular.

Keep it up!


----------



## megamania (Jun 15, 2003)

Neat.  The history layout you provided in the beginning shows a lot of thought and effort.  With that much foresight, I'm sure this will be good.

Curious-  is this a straight forward story you're telling, a campaign you are / were doing or something else?  In my Darksun Storyhour I am the sole player but I roll out encounters, combat and tell it as it happens (didn't plan on Mania being a possible drowning victum...go figure).

Keep it up.


----------



## Tumakhunter (Jun 16, 2003)

This is actually an ongoing campaign that I DM.  Unfortunately, the character Varnus, who is an NPC that joined the group, came in quite late in the story, but he's the only one whose perspective I feel qualified to write from.  A lot of the earlier story will, I'm sure, be related a little later.  Perhaps as a flashback?  Hmm.


----------



## Tumakhunter (Jun 18, 2003)

*North - with a surprise*

I ran through the woods for some time, heading in a generally northerly direction.  I could hear the sound of the Tumak and their hounds searching for us, but it seemed as though they had been confounded.  Perhaps Tarion had cast some spell to hide our trail?

It was some hours before I emerged from the woods.  There, waiting, were Feldon, Tarion, Mor'Gan, and two of our three chim companions (whose names I still have not learned).  There was no sign of Victor, and we had no more time to wait.  One of the chim told us that Victor would be protected by his tribesman, which seemed to put the others' minds at ease.

We followed the steel rails that were laid out upon the ground for some miles before we found the dead husk of a train pointing north.  It looked like a great caravan of steel wagons all linked together.  I asked what type of animals would pull such a monstrosity, and Feldon pointed out the front wagon.  Mor'Gan told me that this was the "engine," and that this was what pulled the great train along the steel rails on the ground.  (Feldon had some fear that the Tumak in Tolk may have developed a way to run them along open ground, but there had not been any evidence to support this.)

But there was some concern.  This was the train that had brought them to Tolk.  Obviously the Tumak had found it before it could go back and warn the northern countries of the invasion.  There were a few bodies, both duer and mek, strewn amongst the wreckage.  Mor'Gan and I took the time to lay the bodies properly to rest before continuing.

Then the thought came to us - if the trains could come south, they could go north.  The effect that trainloads of Tumak soldiers would have on an unprepared north would be devastating!  So we set out to destroy or block the lines.

First, a landslide was created across the tracks.  Then, on the other side of the slide, we destroyed the rails for a distance of some hundred feet.  Realizing that trains from the north would be unaware of the damage to the track until the last minute, we created another landslide on the other side of the damaged rails.

Then we went west, towards the other rail line.

There was a farmhouse nearby, and as we approached it, a shot rang out from within it's walls.  "Thet was just a warning!  Don't come any closer, or I'll nail ya fer sure," came a familiar voice in my native Nautrek.

"Balin, you sawed off piece of sewer waste!  Stop shooting at us," Mor'Gan replied in the same language. 

"Mor'Gan?  That you ya ugly half-breed?  Durn, but it's good to see ya agin!  And there's Feldon and Tarion, too!  Where's Victor, though,"  Balin asked as he stepped out from the old building.

"We lost Victor in the woods to outside of Tolk.  Unfortunately, we were not able to search for him, as we were being hunted by the Tumak soldiers ourselves," I replied.  Balin gave me a sour look, and turned to Mor'Gan, speaking in the singsong tongue the rest of the party was using.  Tarion was kind enough to translate, but I will not relate the unkind words spoken.  Mor'Gan rebuked him, defending my honour, not realizing I was being made to understand the conversation.

"Our small companions assure us he is being well watched after," Mor'Gan told him, translated by Tarion.  "I have every confidence that he will be able to rejoin us soon.  And if not..."

"Yeh, he was a loudmouth, but I always kinda liked the freak.  Hope he catches up soon.  What's yer plan now, _duermek_ ?  Still trying to hunt them blasted Tumak, or have ya come to yer senses and're followin' me back ta civilization?"

"Oh, we're going north, Stubby, but not for the reason you might think.  We need to warn them about what's happening.  You in?"

"Eh, we'll see.  I'll go with ya for a bit longer, see what happens."

The conversation continued thusly, with everyone generally deciding that the next day would be a fine time to begin following the rails to Remere.  We slept in the farmhouse, and set out in the morning.


----------



## GreyShadow (Jun 21, 2003)

Very interesting.

Did you make up the mechanics for the steamtech / guns, or is it from some suppliment?

Keep it up.


----------



## megamania (Jun 23, 2003)

Just curious-  what is the tech limits of your world?  We have seen guns already.  Anything else?  Flying things or the such?  Keep it up


----------



## Tumakhunter (Jun 23, 2003)

Most of the Gun rules I took from Deadlands d20.  

As for other tech, a lot of it has yet to be seen by the PCs, as they've been in the wild and uncivilized areas, but there are flying ships (magically powered) and zeppelins, among other things.  They just can't reach the South due to the powerful, random storms that frequently rage across the Gulf of Sorrows.  Legacy from the Great War of Ascension and all that...


----------



## Tumakhunter (Jun 29, 2003)

I'll get updated soon, I promise!!  (Now where were those notes....?)


----------



## Tumakhunter (Jul 4, 2003)

The next morning, what few of us remained began the trek north along the rail lines.  We walked for what seemed like days across the plains as the hot sun beat down upon us.  It wasn't until late in the afternoon that we heard a faint roaring sound from up ahead.

Realizing that a train was headed our way, we decided that it needed to be warned of the threat to the south.  Balin suggested a barricade to stop the train so we might board it and get it turned around.  There was enough detritus, and Balin cast an illusion of some sort to make it seem bigger.  The train slowed to a stop in front of us.

Unsurprisingly, those on board thought us to be bandits of some type.  We swiftly boarded, and, after some small amount of persuasion from Mor'Gan, as well as a spell from their sorceror, we managed to convince the man who made the train work that it should go back to where it came from.  Of course, this was a very difficult endeavour, as the train could not actually turn at this part of the track, but had to move in reverse until such time as a loop presented itself.

During our initial discussion with the driver, Feldon went into the passenger area to alert the folk there to what was happening.  From behind him stepped a young mek (human) woman, who placed the end of her gun against the back of his head.  Feldon calmly talked to her for a moment, presumably trying to convince her that we were not bandits.  He appeared to succeed, as she sheathed her weapon soon after.

Tarion had no little difficulty with boarding, as well, given the great owl and the mountain cat that always accompany him.  We ended up putting them in the cargo area.  

Slowly the train began to move.  We had a long trip ahead of us, so I sat down and began to look at the different people.  It amazed me how much things have changed since my time.  Of course, I elicited more than a few stares, especially from the duer onboard, but surprisingly, no one seemed to wish to approach me.  Using the little bit of Trade that Tarion had been teaching me, I asked the young woman who had held her gun to Feldon what her name was.  She looked quite surprised, but told me her name was Alexa.

Fortunately for me, Alexa spoke Nautrek fairly well.  She explained to me that it was very rare for one of my station to speak with one of such common birth as herself.  

I explained to her where and when I had come from, which she was quite fascinated to learn of.  She questioned me for hours about what life was like during the Great War, and I in turn asked about the world today.  It interests me to hear about how some of the Shapers have now ascended to godhood, and the effects that has had on the world.  She also told me about the recent troubles that Morrakin were rumoured to be in.

In the many centuries since the Great Magewar, a lingering threat has occasionally plagued the northlands: the threat of the Undead.  Led by a powerful Lich named Acestius, forces of undead monstrosities would periodically sweep north, destroying everything in it's path.  The Undead forces were seemingly impervious to the great magical storms that blocked passage to the ancient southlands.

The minions of Belzur did not rest after the Great War.  Four centuries later, a sorceror now called Acestius discovered Belzur’s works and used them to develop necromantic magics. Acestius became a disciple of the Mage-god Belzur, renowned for his torturous studies on living creatures. He animated an army of skeletons and zombies, but he was eventually caught and imprisoned within a tomb.  His loyal followers, known as Barmarnarn, continued to pass on his teachings despite their master’s apparent defeat.  Acestius’s spirit has not lain quietly in his tomb, either.  It escaped after six hundred years of imprisonment. 

The undead were most fiercely fought by my own clan, the Dalzaks of Morrakin, who would organize the surface peoples living south of the Mountains into militias and armies intended to drive off these monstrosities.  This laid the precedent for Morrakin to claim territories outside the Granitehome Mountains, and the Empire expanded itself.

150 years ago, a mighty band of heroes, Vultheim Druskeden, Caladan ur Silverwing, and seven others journeyed south, braving the mighty Magic Storms that still blocked access to the ancient Southlands.  Nearly slain crossing the Barrier, they survived due to the leadership of one woman calling herself only "the Sentinel."  Reaching an ancient city deep in the heart of the Desert of Sin, these heroes found the lair of Acestius.

A mighty battle ensued, with hordes of undead swarming the group, until finally, in one huge climatic battle between the Sentinel and Acestius, the two were destroyed in a cataclysmic swath of holy flame.  Druskeden and Caladan were the only two survivors to return to Morrakin and the north.  Druskeden took the throne, establishing a new dynasty as Druskeden I.

When Druskeden returned from the south, he was changed.  A shadow seemed to have fallen over his eyes, and his behaviour went from erratic to completely insane over the next century.  He was crowned Emperor and began a long reign of abuse and exploitation

 Druskeden’s corruption spread chaos through the empire.  As his madness increased, so did the strife and warfare among the clans.  Druskeden viewed duergar workers as his property, and he drove them ruthlessly.  He ordered gigantic construction projects, culminating with the Emperor's Spire, a monstrous tower that jutted out of the mountainside.  Known as the Tyrant's Peak to the workers, this became Druskeden's centre of power and was guarded by his most loyal troops.

Druskeden ruled for exactly one-hundred years.  As the rights of the workers and then the soldiers faded away, it became clear that all the duergar of Morrakin were nothing but slaves to Druskeden.  Finally, the people rose up their hammers and defied the Tyrant.  Most of the army, long underpaid and abusively disciplined, joined them.  Only the tyrant's personal guard remained loyal, and they defended the Emperor's Spire fanatically.  After a number of costly assaults, the rebels retreated.  Druskeden rejoiced, sure he had crushed their spirit.  Unknown to him, however, engineers were hard at work underneath the Spire.  The next morning Druskeden woke up to the sound of explosions.  Tyrant's Peak was rocked at its very foundations, and came crashing down, killing Druskeden and every one of his loyalists.

The triumphant rebels set about rebuilding their shattered land.  With the Emperor and all his relatives dead, it was decided that the very idea of Emperorship should remain entombed under the ruins of the Tyrant's Peak. The rebels decided to organize a new government that would recognize the rights of the Duer.  The clan kings formed a King's Council to run the government, one that would elect from within itself a leader every 30 years.  As precedent, they pointed back to the original council that had elected the first Emperor.  It was time, they decided, for the clans to control their own fate.  Thus was born the Republic of Morrakin.

After hearing this lesson on the history of my people, I was both greatly saddened, and highly impressed that one of mek blood would know so much.  Balin sat nearby and scowled, while I decided that I needed to meet with my Clan King.


----------



## Tumakhunter (Jul 17, 2003)

*At last - Remere!*

It took a lot longer than I had expected, but eventually we made it to Remere.  By this time, I had learnt a fair bit of Trade, a pidgin tongue used internationally. 

The train's brakes screamed as we pulled into the station just inside city limits.  I still find it odd that a city of this size, and in such a land, would not be walled.  Alexa explained that it is because there are no real enemies to defend against out here, but the threat of the Tumak is too great, and I think them fools for not having the best defenses they are able.

As the passengers began leaving the train, Mikkah, the train's wizard, bade my companions and I to hold back: there were people waiting to speak with us.  So Mor'Gan, Balin, and I waited with Mikkah, though Feldon had already left the train with Tarion and the chim.  We didn't have long to wait - as soon as the other passengers had left, three duerfolk dressed in fine black clothes and ankle length coats (similar to Mor'Gan's "duster") boarded the train and walked toward us.

"Good afternoon, noble folk.  My name is Dalzak Naruun Durgush of the Deathunters, and these are my companions Dalzak Garenil Arritak and Dalzak Yoritak Fertulth.  If you would kindly accompany us, we have some questions we would like to ask you."

"What exactly would the nature of these questions be, noble Deathunter," asked Mor'Gan with a quiet edge to his voice.

"We have heard report of your encounters in the south, and would know more," responded Durgush.  "It is in both our interests that we speak further of this matter in a more private location."

"As you will, then, sir."  

"Hey, wha?  Yer just _goin'_  with 'em?  Are you outta yer freakin' mind, Mor'Gan?  These are the freakin' _Deathunters_  fer Ground's sake!  Ya can't trust 'em," whispered Balin as we followed these Duer-in Black off the train and toward a nearby building.

"Calm down, Half pint.  I know what I'm doing," Mor'Gan responded in the same whisper.

Once inside the building, one of the Deathunters locked the door, while the other went to the back and opened another door I hadn't previously seen.  Durgush ushered us inside.

"Let's begin with this outrageous tale of raiders in Tolk, shall we?  I've read the report Mikkah sent, but it only tells so much.  He wasn't there.  You, on the other hand, were.  So if you don't mind indulging us, sirs, with your tale?" 

"Of course," replied Mor'Gan.  "It all began when the train we were on pulled over the last hill before Tolk..."

(Next - Mor'Gan's Story)


----------



## Tumakhunter (Jul 29, 2003)

*Mor'Gan's Tale*

"What the...  What happened here," asked Balin in an awed whisper as the train neared the town, echoing the thoughts of everyone on the train.

I looked at the devastation with a grim sense of forboding twisting a knot deep in the pit of my stomach.  Nothing you could have told me could have prepared me for the absolute carnage that the town had become.  As the train pulled into the station, we could see the bodies of the townsfolk strewn about on the streets where they had been slain.  Just outside the town we had passed the bodies and, in some cases, disembodied heads, of the town's Sherriff and Deputies, all placed high on pikes.

This was a warning.

I was the first to step off the train, followed first by Balin, then Feldon, Tarion, his mountain cat Nymeria, and lastly Victor Hertzog, our supposed benefactor.  None of the other passengers wanted to leave the train, and in fact planned to stay only long enough to resupply before heading back north.

Feldon walked around in a shocked daze, looking at the horror that had been wrought here.  Tarion and Nymeria began to scout around searching for survivors, and Victor looked on with a mixed look of disgust and indifference.

"Hey, do any of the rest of you see anything wrong with this picture," Feldon called from down the street.

I ran over to where he was standing, trying to determine what he was looking at.  "If you mean that every man, woman and child in this godsforsaken town has been slaughtered by who knows what and their bodies left out as a warning, what do you think?"

"That's just it," Feldon responded.  "_Not_  every man, woman, and child has been killed.  In fact, if you look, there are no children anywhere."

"He's right, you know.  Nymeria and I just did a quick circuit of the town, and every corpse is an adult, at least fifteen years old."

"Any indication of who or what might have done this," I asked the others, who had all gathered nearby.  No one had an answer.  "Right, then.  First order of business is to find the bastards who did this, and feed them their toenails.  Anyone wants out, I suggest you go now, before that train gets too far away."

"Well, I'll be staying.  It's a shame what happened to these people, but I still have my research to conduct.  Feldon and I will stay with you for as long as it is convenient to me.  Feldon?"  Victor looked around almost disdainfully at the silver haired scout.

"Yeah, I'm in," Feldon replied sheepishly, with a look around at the rest of us.

"Definitely.  We can't let an atrocity like this go unanswered.  And these bodies are fresh, too, not more than a couple of days old.  Oh, there's some hurtin' to be had."  Balin looked grimmer than I'd ever seen as he gazed at the carnage.  Tarion merely nodded his assent.

Slowly we began to walk through the town, searching, this time, for signs of the attackers - bodies, weapons, anything out of the ordinary.  The only things we found were the bodies of the townsfolk.  Eventually we came to the ferry across the Parcadan River.  Word was, there was a mine there that many of the local folk worked at.  Perhaps we'd find some clues there, or maybe even survivors.

The boat was still on this side.  Perhaps a good sign, perhaps not.  The train's whistle blew in the background as it began it's return trip north.  We all debated about who actuall knew anything about boating, until Victor pointed the guide rope attached to the underside of the ferry.  Without further ado, we climbed aboard and began to pole our way across.


----------

