 Post subject: The Grim Winter Ends, Part III: The Dawn of Spring   PostPosted: Feb 18, 2009 - 08:12 PM
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"...And how? How did it end, pops?!"
The little bear asked the big bear.

"What became of Erdath the Dragonslayer? And of Hrrd, Sven, and all the others?
Did the snake really heal Karl's wounds back then, and did Jigimy really travel through
space and time for his Draussa?"

"Sssh, little Dirken, be patient and listen to the end of the story."
The big bear told the little bear.

Secretly grinning over his son's fascination with the tales of his own youth,
King Robert put on the serious voice his son liked so much when he
told him stories such like this one, and continued:

"I have already told it to you many times, so you should know by now.
- So this is what happened..."







The last days of Asum in the year 1032 of the Northern Calendar.

The taking of Starmorgan by Elven soldiers from Ringlo Hall
puts an end to the Third War of Ten and to the reign of the Afridhi
in the lands west of the Misauga River.
The price for Blackmoor's final victory, however, has been dire to pay.

More than 50,000 Blackmoorians and Tenians, and over 200,000 Afridhi have
perished during the military operations, and,
while victorious in the end. much of it thanks to the bravery and the commitment
of the so-called "Company of the Maiden",
the army of Blackmoor has been almost completely annihilated.



The second day after the battle in the temple of Zugzul,
the first Tenian survivors present themselves in the encampment the Elven scouts have built
on the biggest of Starmorgan's old city fora.

Many of them had either hidden in the frozen swamps outside the city,
and many more had found momentary refuge either in the Halls of the Kings
or in Starmorgan's ancient sewer network, out of use for over a decade,
and fallen into disrepair. but luckily ignored by the Afridhi.

Still, the Tenians have payed a last high fee for their freedom:
Only in the last two months, more than half of Starmorgan's
remaining population had been either killed,
tortured, or sacrificed either to the neverending hunger of the Well,
or to the dubious glory of Zugzul,
causing the remaining Tenians finally to flee their homes and the Afridhi's madness.

Soon, the streets of Ten's former capital fill again with buzzing activity;
the survivors are overjoyed to return to their homes, and quickly begin to repair
their houses and to recollect their belongings.

In the dread wasteland the Duchy of Ten has become, at least this place will
serve as home and as shelter for those brave and stout enough to stand their ground
against the many enemies that lurk in the shadows, waiting for the time
humanity will fail again.


One week after the taking of the Well of Souls,
an artless ceremony is held in front of the palace of Starmorgan,
where Lord Menander declares the formal end of the war.
While he does it, priests of Ordanna exorcise and cleanse the remains of the Afridhi fire cult.
- Nearly all that have survived this grimmest winter in the history of the Northern Marches
choose to attend, and so does the Company of the Maiden.

In the evening of the same day, the citizens of Starmorgan, for the first time in
fifty years, celebrate the Festival of Sparks, a belated new year celebration.

Though the fires burn high in the cold night,
the songs sung to their sides are lower than you would have thought:
After nearly sixty years of tyrannical rule, either by the Lich King or by the Afridhi,
only a few Tenians remember what it truly means to be free.And the future,
so it is whispered on the firesides, holds many dangers:

The king of Blackmoor is still missing, even after one week of devoted search.
The Westryn are seeming to prepare for a new war against mankind.
And, for the worst, so tell many,
the spirit of the Lich King travels the lands in the form of a dark rider.

How can we, so the cowards whisper, the weak and poor that we are,
how can we stand against the atrocities that
desire nothing but our enslavement or annihilation?



In all of this, the Company of the Maiden has no part any more.

After an opulent, yet very elflishly-quiet banquet, you return to to your quarters.
You have chosen to reside in what formerly was a noble's city house,
later turned into an Afridhi storehouse
and is now allegedly called "The Maiden's Tavern"
by the returning Starmorgan populace,
a name that, frankly, is giving you the creeps.

As you say your goodbyes and go to your bedrooms, you are stuffed and tired,
but also puzzled about what to do next; in truly elvish fashion,
there was no political talk during the banquet, and whatever the provisorical
Regency Council, consisting of Menander, Jallapierie and Baron Zvenzen,
is planning for the future, has not been disclosed to you
in an entire week of waiting for new orders,
while being asked or ordered to remain with the Elven army until you were going to be
told otherwise.

A bit nervous, you take long to fall asleep, though for the first time in weeks,
you seem to dream of pleasant things, and not of the horrors of the war alone.

Later in the night, however, you are, politely but peremptorily, awakened:
You are called to "The Maiden's Tavern's" dinner hall.

One by one.




- Harwan -

Two Elven warriors flank Harwan as he walks down the wooden stairs.
His eyes still sleepy, he needs a moment until he can identify Baron Zvenzen and
Gawaine in the flickering light of the candles.

Unceremoniously, the Great Svenny hands him a pergament.

"Soldier, your new march order. Signed by me, as the new vice-king of the Northern Marches,
holding this title until our good king Uther can be found.
It comes into operation immediately."

"- We need someone that stays here in Starmorgan, to help the Tenians in
training and equipping their own military force. The times are dire,
and Blackmoor is in need of heroes."

The Great Svenny, overtowering you by at least two headlengths,
cleans his throat and, finally, smiles.

"You have proven to be one of those heroes, General Harwan.
I am sure you will do honor to your own reputation as the commander of the
Blackmoorian garrison in Starmorgan."



- Karl -

When Karl is escorted downstairs, he finds himself with Lord Menander, Jallapierie,
and a person he does not know - a monk like him, but wearing a strange cube-like device
on his back, vaguely reminding Karl of a canon.

This stranger, however, is the first one to speak, and both Menander and Jal seem to
await his words with interest:

"Karl, you have been tainted by a power even we fail to understand.
A power from another dimension, possibly, or from times long gone.
- In either case, we owe you the help we can provide you under the current
circumstances, and for the very least, we can give you a hint were to find a cure
or a better understanding of your new state and powers."

The other monk shows you a map, laying it gently on the wooden tavern table.

"Aeons ago, the Sar-Aigu, a race of serpentmen sorcerers, practiced an art called shadow magic.
The creature that now feeds on your living energies is doubtlessly a remnant of that age."

- The monk points to a place on the map, in the swamps north of Starmorgan. -

"Thanks to the few documents the Afridhi didn't destroy or desecrate,
we have localized one of their ancient strongholds,
in a valley of a perpetual magic spring, two weeks north of here.
- If you want to investigate, we will provide you with what you need for that expedition,
under the premise that you leave immediately."

"Your new powers are too risky and to strange to allow you to remain among
helpless civilians that you could possibly hurt if you somehow lost control."



- Hrrd -

Now one dares to escort Hrrd downstairs.
Instead, the two Elven warriors stagger down the stairway in front of him,
visibly uncomfortable with having a "monster bear" on their toes.

Downstairs, the bearman is surprised to see that the furniture in the dinner hall has been
carried away.
Instead, a circle of stones has been formed and layed out with fine sand -
a Blackmoorian wrestling ring, he realizes.

Gawaine, Odin and Bobby sit aside, sharing a few baked seagulls with Bravous
- macabre reiminder of what happened to Ran the Lich's winged scouts in the aftermath
of the battle at the temple -
and grin to him, chuckling with their mouths full, as he enters the hall.

Inside the wrestling ring stands the Great Svenny,
naked but for a traditional Blackmoorian wrestling trouser.

"Tomorrow, my friend, you will join the Regency Council as a spokesman
of the Ursai of Ten, if you desire...
Under the condition that we settle our little dispute from back in the encampment. NOW."



- Erdath-

When it is called for Erdath, the elf will wonder what the strange sounds are that come from the dinner hall...
He believes he can hear Bobby cheering, followed by sounds as if a bag of hay was
repeatedly banged against a wall...

In the old winecellar of the inn, Lord Menander and Jal await him, meanwhile sharing a glass
of the famous Tenian white wine, just like old friends.

"Lord Stargloom", Menander begins, "you have served Us well during the last months,
in fact, better than We ever would have anticipated. Had We known about
your extraordinary qualities earlier on, We would never have let you leave the court,
but kept you straight there, as Our personal advisor.
- However, the times are hard, even for Our people, and we cannot let you return to
the Forest so soon. In fact; Jal, may you..."

The nervous wizard is quick to take over the word.

"Silverbell was more than just a human outpost in the wilderness, you know.
It was a center of knowledge, and a defense line against the creatures of the moors.
- We need somebody who leads the repopulation of the place with settlers,
and who is skilled enough to rebuilt and rearrange what remains
of the cathedral and the library. And..."

The king gently interrupts Jal as he fills a new crystal cup and hands it to Erdath,
a gesture carefully to be interpreted.

"...We have decided that you are the right man for this,
being a born leader and a magician at the same time.
Why don't you drink with Us a bit,
and then decide if you want to consider Our offer."



- Tolleen -

What was that? - Tolleen might think as she is waked by a knock on her door.
Was that Erdath singing an obscene drinking song?

Last time she heard those verses was farback in the south,
in one of the cities at the mouths of the Roglaroon!

- Strange dreams she's dreaming lately...


The two Elven guards bring her into the wincecellar, where, much to her surprise,
Audi, Gawaine and Bobby are already waiting for her, armed and dressed.
Audi has the two little orc babies on his arms, gemtly holding them as they snore.

Tolleen will also notice that Gawaine's weapon tunic has changed from green to black.
- The symbol of the Blackmoorian kingsguard.

Lord Menander sits on the table, impatiently waiting for a young page to carry
away about a dozen empty bottles.

As he turns to address her, his voice is clear and unemotional, as to be expected
from a Cumasti.

"Nun Tolleen, from the order of the Fallen Star, there are no worldly things We could
reward you with for your invaluable role in this whole series of
adventures and misfortunes."

"Without you, Our nephew and Our son-in-law", - he nods to Gawaine -,
"would have been killed more than once. Yet", and a very human expression of grief
crosses the face of the Elven king, if only for a second -
"We could not save your own happiness."

Bobby sobs, and gently places something on the table next to Tolleen:
A part of Mant's blood-stained cloak.

"The body of the young cavallier was to be cremated, but Prince Robert
happened to walk by and insisted that We kept it from any harm."

Menander seems to have difficulties to keep his face straight.

"In fact, his majesty of the Ursai, confronted three of our warriors about
this affair. When Our subjects were not keen to collaborate,
prince Robert used a magic wand to turn them on fire instead."

The Lord of the Cumasti reaches for his pocket and takes out a familiar item:

A Tear of the Valkyrie, though bigger and shinnier than those Tolleen had seen before.
Menander puts it on Mant's cape, right over the coat of arms.

"This young Ursai gentleman here claims that only true love can summon this artifact's full powers,
and that the one revived is not undead, but restored to all of his former livelihood.
We recommend you let your friends guide you to the morgue and test if Bobby speaks the truth."



- Sven -

Gawaine himself comes for Sven, calling through the door in a low voice.
Once Sven has dressed, the knight leads him downstairs, moving quietly and without a word.

The dinner hall looks as if one of Dirken's grenades had exploded in it, tables and chairs broken,
white sand everywhere.

In the middle, on a small stool, Sven's grandfather, Baron Zvenzen,
and next to him Audi, Fernan Trader, and another, younger, boy Sven doesn't know
yet.

The Great Svenny looks a bit tired, an unfamilar expression for a titan like him.
The area around his left eye is swollen and blackened, and his right arm hangs in a sling.

"Sven, your family and the kingdom of Blackmoor need your help.
I am sorry to burden you with this so shortly after your last, almost deadly,
adventure, but we cannot afford any more risks.
The king is missing, and only the gods know how long Menander and
I can keep the rivaling nobles at bay.
Because of this, we must make sure that Uther's line survives,
wheter or not he is still alive.
Uther was the first good ruler of the North in about three generations,
and I doubt anyone of the decadent pricks that proud themselves to be related
to the Fants will be an equal replacement."

"- Our country is not in the position for another war, and our enemies know that."

The elder Svenny abruptly breaks up in his speech, and calls for the young boy Sven doesn't recognize.

"Sven, I want you to take a squire, a boy who has lived with the Trader family since his birth,
and was always a brother to Assur and Fernan.
His name is Mordred."

"His father", The Great Svenny raises his shield from his side and ominously taps
on the coat of arms of Blackmoor, three times,
"is one of my dearest friends.
Instruct the boy in the arts of chivalry, and don't be too soft on him. - Lord Oktagern?"

Gawaine, smiling quietly, steps forward.
"- Yes, mylord. Considering how delicate the situation is,
I'd strongly suggest that Sven doesn't set foot on Blackmoorian soil
until his own and his squire's safety can be secured.
Therefore, I would invite him accompany me northwards, and help me to rebuild
Oktagern - Luthiensfort! - at least for the time being."

"I plan to take both Audi and Fernan as my squires. So, he would be in good company,
up there in the cold north."

Baron Zvenzen nods, and tries to grin, but a sudden flash of pain from his left eye
makes it look more like a wild grimace.

"Certainly, not a bad idea. - However, this shall not go unrewarded.
In times like these, when good men are rare,
bravery and steadiness are qualities seldomly found.
- Sven, whether you travel straight northwards with Gawaine or join me in search of Uther,
you'll do it," - the baron tosses a heavy seal ring over to his nephew -,
"as the new baron of Glendower."



- Dirken -

Dirken is called later this night as well, but not by any officials, Elven guards,
let alone any nobles. or kings

It is Zuki and Bobby who wake him, the hour before the dawn,
until which the thief has been plagued by strange dreams;
mirrors from a distant place called Ohmfet, and from another life, in the fur of a wolf...

"Time to go for us", whispers Zuki. "The Coven has called for me,
and our little princling has apparently no desire to return to his quiet life as a husband.
- Speaking of, the colonel whose wife you impregnated last summer has arrived today,
with a unit of soldiers from Hanford.
Believe me, you have no desire to stay here any longer."

Not waiting for Dirken's response, Zuki and Bobby begin to put his belongings into a huge backpack.

"A friend of us - Rowell - is waiting with fresh horses outside the city gates.
In two weeks, we can be at the Thieves' base in Rusagern, and, from there,
to Mondburgh, where the war still goes on. But I guess you won't mind a little more action,
my friend, or would you?"




******************************************

The next day, the Company of the Maiden will come together one last time,
and then dismiss, each one on a new way, but forever united in friendship.

Long was their way, and dire is the farewell.

However, there is one thing about good-byes that may make them easier to bear:

The hope to meet again.





The kingdom of Blackmoor stands surrounded by many enemies.
To the west, the Willow Queen summons her armies, soon to bring war to the lands of man.
To the south, the corrupt Thonian aristocrats already susurrate to their infant emperor
to take advantage of Blackmoor's weakness and to send his warriors northwards
one more time.

And to the north, a gray shimmer on the horizon, the realm of the Egg, ready
and willing to destroy civilization as man knows it.



Blackmoor is in need of heroes - now more than ever.

******************************************







The trees smelled of spring when the dark rider arrived
at the last borderstone on the way to Marban.

In the shadow of a young and blooming red oak,
the man that once had been Assur Trader dismounted from his horse,
and,
thereby stripping the cadaver from the magic energies that had
held it on its feet,
carelessly let it collapse behind him.

A cold grin hushed over his face when he called for his falcon and
began his own descent towards the valley of the Emperor's city and the Jeweled Gates.

Under the hood that hid his now fleshless traits,
Ran the Lich smiled as he glanced at the distant ziggurats of the Imperial Palace
and thought about the things that were to come.







The End.

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