Dramatis Personae
Ulf Askison - sometimes called Ulf the Ugly, son of a warrior and cousin to
Femura.
Emrys Lodanson - son of the chief of clan Anmangarn, Iskalli's foster son
and nephew.
Kronan - huge barbarian warrior and friend to the cousins.
Ottar - an older warrior and initiate of Humakt.
Torkanth Iskallison - Iskalli's younger son, an enthusiastic hunter.
Areth - warrior loyal to Torkanth.
Brodir - another loyal warrior.
Braxis - bandit chief.
Branwen Mahon - twin sister of the chief and a great beauty.
Morkyan of the Two Smiles - Sword of Humakt and grim warleader of clan
Mahon.
Bran Mahon - young chieftain of Clan Mahon.
Ingrid Mahlod's Widow - a stern, proud tribeswoman.
Black Hrafn Hroaldson - fierce and callous warrior, brother to Hrolla a
famous beserk.
3/1609
"Branwen"
Torkanth Iskallison set out for the rath of Clan Mahon. For company he had his two guards Areth and Brodir, as well as Emrys Lodanson, Ulf Askison, and Kronan the Barbarian. The six would skirt the Old Forest enroute to the Jonstown Road. As they passed the new wood on the eaves of the Old Forest, Ulf spotted movemnt beneath the trees. He rode closer until he could make out one or more man-like shapes. These proved to be a party of Aldryami who claimed that they had traveled these lands since the dawning. Torkanth decided to leave the wood-folk alone, but he sent Brodir back to the rath to alert Iskalli. The other six continued on, skirting past Runegate Fort to reach the south road.
The road gradually rose by winding, forested curves up Starfire Ridge. Rounding another bend, the party came upon ornate wagon leaning on only three wheels. In was the type of carriage used by women. While a noble girl and her maid looked on, several warriors were struggling in vain to lift the axle high enough to replace the missing wheel. The trail was narrow and muddy so only two men at a time could bring their strength to bear and the weight was just too great. But none of this did Ulf see. His vision was filled with the sight of the loveliest girl he had ever seen. As he gazed at her he felt something, a wave of emotion and he new from this moment his life would never be the same.
While Ulf gazed enraptured, Torkanth and Kronan, the two strongest men in Iskalli's hall, combined their massive strength to do what four men could not; they lifted the body of the wagon so the the wheel could be set in place. The travellers thanked the party before continuing toward their destination. Since both Kronan and Torkanth were soiled with mud from the road, the party paused to make themselves more presentable before proceeding to Clan Mahon.
The road climbed one last set of switch backs before reaching the higher ground on Starfire Ridge that marked the border of Mahon lands. Here the trees were more sparse, mostly evergreen and birch that clung to the steep sides of the surrounding hills. From somewhere ahead the party heard a horn call and the brazen clash of weapons. They kicked their horses into a gallop. Ahead, in a narrow defile flanked on the left by a low cliff, they encountered the remains of a vicious ambush, seven arrow riddled bodies: four men, warriors, and three horses. The warriors were the escort of the wagon the party had helped to fix. But the wagon, and the women, were missing. The party galloped on.
A short distance along the road was the overturned wagon. Its driver crushed beneath his vehicle. But there was still no sign of the girl. But just then they heard a moan from the bushes by the wagon. It was the maid, her gown covered in blood from a terrible wound in her chest. "My mistress...you must save her...the brigands..." She collapsed into unconsiousness.
"Areth, stay with this woman," Torkanth ordered. "Heal her if you can. The
rest of you, follow me!"
The party searched for the brigands tracks. Torkanth's ability as a hunter stood them in good stead, as he discovered the faintest of tracks on the rocky trails. The tracks of several horses led towards the eastern escarpments. The soil here was thin and rocky, with clumps of sparse, weedy grass and only an occasional bush. The land was barely sufficient to raise a few small herds of sheep and people were as sparse as the grass. Just the sort of place for a bandit hideout.
To be continued...
4/1609
"The Widow's Plea"
Ulf, Emrys, and Kronan were at the Tin Inn in Apple Lane. They had just finished a four week stint of militia herding. The weather had been abysmal, when it wasn't cold and wet it rained snow and ice. Yelm's appearance was barely noticeable through the thick blanket of iron-grey clouds. It looked today would just be cold and wet. Kronan had spent the night arm wrestling for extra drinks. As usual he had won, hence he was passed out upstairs. Ulf had gotten morosely drunk and the weather suited his mood. Perversely, Emrys insisted on being particularly cheerful. His fox-like features fairly glowed with assumed good cheer as he loudly hummed a popular tune while heaping an enormous pile of greasy food on a platter. If something didn't happen to shut him up soon, Ulf was going to shove him head first into the horse trough outside. Just as soon as he got up the energy. He hoped the ice wouldn't be too thick. "Mmmm, this is delicious. Ulf are you sure you wouldn't care for some beans and bacon," Emrys sweetly asked.
Before Ulf could find out if Emrys could hum under water, the door to the common room banged open letting in a gust of rainy air. A tall, stern looking woman stepped into the room. Her greying hair and lined face said she was well past her youth, but she carried herself with a dignity and grace that made her not unattractive. "Are there any men here?" she challengingly asked. "Are there any men with grit and guts who are up to a test of their manhood?" Only silence greeted her odd request.
"What sort of manhood did you have in mind?" Emrys asked with a mocking
smile. Several farmers at a nearby table chuckled.
"I'm looking for real men, brave men, men of daring."
"Daring's what she needs...she must be a'thinkin o' you Wat," one of the
farmers remarked to his bench mate.
Out of the corner of one bloodshot eye, Ulf saw Emrys preparing for another verbal sally. This was about to get unpleasant. He had to shut the kid up. Besides there was something about the older woman that made Ulf want to act brave and decent. Ulf stood up.
"What kind of help do you need ma'am? I'm Ulf Askison and I'll do what I can to
help."
"I am Ingrid Mahlodswife. My husband, he died three years ago this winter.
He was a warrior! We bought a small farm down the valley. I've been running
it myself these past three years with but one hired man. But now these
worthless vermin have come. They invited themselves in and are eating all
my food. Samma my hired man ran off and the sheriff is out of town. I need
someone to drive the no-good bandits off."
Ulf invited the widow to sit down as they listened to her tale. It seemed some six ne'er-do-wells and their leader had invited themselves to her farm's hospitality. They were eating and drinking up all the supplies at the stead and she feared violence when the drink finally ran out. She wanted the friends to drive the gang off.
"Well Ulf, only seven of them," Emrys commented wryly. "Shall we go? Or do
you want to wake up Kronan first."
"Maybe we better wake Kronan."
***
Led by the widow, the three friends proceeded on horseback up the valley to
her farm. Ulf had offered to let her ride, but she had curtly informed him
that, "These two legs have carried me well enough for these past fifty-two
years. I expect they'll see me back to my own farm." After that the four
travelled in a silence broken only by Emrys' occasional humming. Gradually
the rain turned to a drizzle and finally stopped, but the leaden clouds
overhead promised more rain still to come.
As promised the stead was small, but orderly. A dark wisp of smoke trickled from the roof-hole. All homeliness ended at the gate, before which lay the body of the farm's dairy cow. The beast's hide was speckled with the wounds of spear and sword and several slices of meat had been crudely hacked from the corpse. Several men sat on the porch and beat time with their feet while a figure in a torn, sky-blue gown wildly danced and capered. On one end of the porch gaped the open mouth of a emptied beer keg.
"You had better stay back ma'am," Ulf told the widow as he led the friends up
to the gate. "The fun's over boys," Ulf declared.
One of the porch sitters staggered erect, his scarred face was flushed from drinking. "No, you're wrong itsh jesh shtarting. But we need some more beer." This last comment was greeted by a chorus of drunken cheers from the other three ruffians.
Kronan carefully dismounted. "Leave now!"
"Yeah. The parties all over, its time for the cleanup crew," Emrys added.
Scarface responded, "No. The boss says thish ish a great little farm. Shtay here all winter."
Ulf dismounted. Leaving his horse outside the gate, he stepped into the yard. Kronan's large form loomed just behind him. "Then we'll have to have a talk with your boss."
"No the boss ish sleeping."
"Yeah! He gets mad if'n you wake him," the one in the blue dress said, in a
voice loud enough to wake a drunken troll.
"Then it seems we must wake him!" Emrys proclaimed in a deliberately loud
voice.
At that moment, the small figure of a fifth ruffian hurtled head first out
the cabin door which was soon filled with the ringmail clad form of a large
black-bearded warrior. In one broad hand he held a double-bitted greataxe.
"Who is it you will wake you mangy flea on a horse's arse?" bellowed the
newcomer. "And which one of you disgusting scum has turned so pious that
he wants to meet the gods today?" A loud, half-drunken chorus of not-me's
and finger pointing greeted the surly warrior's last question.
"It were these newcomers, chief. They been yellin and carryin on. And they
ain't brung no beer," the scarfaced brigand added plaintively.
Ulf turned to the brigand's chief, "You must leave. You're not wanted here."
"Oh, friend I think you're wrong. Why we've been invited by the widow
herself. Real friendly say I. Right boys." At their leader's signal the
brigands all cheered their agreement.
"Nay it is you that are in the wrong, Black Hrafn. I gave you no leave to
guest here. And I tell you now to take your mangy band of bandits of my land
or these brave man shall drive ye off." While the had talked with the gang,
the widow had quietly come up to the gate.
"Then by my sword we'll not go willing. I'm Black Hrafn Hroaldson and I find
I'm in a bad mood. Well gentleman who wants to be the first to die."
"Ulf, that's Hrolla the Berserk's younger brother," Emrys whispered. "And
Hrolla is Rastorlanth's friend." Ulf had also noticed that the brigand had a
raven tattoo. That and his oath marked him as an initiate of Humakt. First
ducks and now this, sometimes he wondered what the priests were thinking
of.
"You needn't worry, it shan't be you, you pipsqueak," said Hrafn as he
turned towards Emrys. "Tell me, does a little boy like you have to tie his
heels together so as not to fall off that great black nag." Emrys paled in
anger. "But don't shit your drawers yet. I'll save you and your nag til last
and we'll see if the beast is too tough to make good steaks."
"Enough talk!" Kronan's bass voice rumbled. "I am Kronan the Barbarian and I
fear no man living or dead. Leave boy alone. Fight me!"
"With pleasure. My axe will chop you down to size and I'll save the ugly one
for the second course. Have at them men!"
The combat -
To be continued...
Part V "The Jolly Soldier"
Dramatis Personae
Femura - former sheepherder now one of Iskalli's warriors.
Skorri - farmer's daughter and healer-to-be, cousin to Femura.
Ulf Askison - sometimes called Ulf the Ugly, another of Iskalli's warriors
and cousin to Femura and Skorri.
Kronan - a giant barbarian warrior, friend to the cousins.
Tyrea Falgorth - a distant relative of the cousin's now a fellow warrior.
5/1609
Still to be written...
"Fall of the Dark Altar"
Oakley Gontist
An initiate of Orlanth. He was a member of the previous ill-fated
expedition to the Devil's Playground. He managed to escape, but a wound he
recieved fighting a Broo ruined his health. Illuminated by his gruesome
experiences, he presents the party with several (Illuminati) riddles.
Including the following -
Where lies the flesh of the Devil?
The foulest part of all,
That sees through the flesh of every evil
And watches through the parting pall.
This riddle was for a Yelmalian hermit called Dark Anotia.
Dark Anotia's Story
As a young initiate, long before I held this unfortunate name, I received
special instruction from several Light Priests, now many years deceased.
Talio Lumen was my name then. They taught me a ritual, hinted at in tales
and legends, that was contained in an ancient Yelmalio text. The ritual was
of Ward Breaking and Detection. It found and opened a sealed path to the
underground. We were a mixed party of Yelmalians and adventurers under
the direction of a Light Priest. Together we entered. But poor Talio Lumen
became lost in the darkness. Eventually he was captured by the dwellers
below. He ate what he was fed and witnessed many horrors. Finally, to
protect a part of his spirit, he went insane. During this dark insane time
he somehow escaped. It was over five years before I regained my sanity.
Talio Lumen never really returned from the dark underground. So I adopted
the name Dark Anotia and have led the simple life of a hermit. But this
riddle is a message for me. It tells me my fate. I must return to the dark
underground. I will accompany you and perform the ritual.
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