The Long Road of Power

Farms and a Wrecking Ball

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Upon leaving the cottage the group continued on their way to the outlying farms. The first two greeted the party fearfully, giving assurances of timely delivery of supply shipments to the Fortress. Catheshal in her element, soothing fears and washing doubt away with smiles and assurances. With Harkon giving the hard line of law for protectorate and protected guarantees. The next two farms unfortunately proved a bust with all evidence of having been abandoned, however the buildings being intact, it was noted, made resettlement an attractive option.

The third farm was also looking to be in a similar state when the group was ambushed while exploring the barn.The mighty Finbar Garess, raised by dwarves, identified the attackers to be Duergar. The darkened and twisted kin of the Dwarves.

A short battle commenced where the lovely Catheshal was struck down by the Captain of these vile beings. Finbar (previously enlarged) bravely, smote deeply into the Captain causing him to flee to a higher level. Finbar first ensured that the good Lady was in no immediate danger before giving persute, issuing oaths of vengeance for the fair maiden. Stating that quicksand nor poor weather would stop his vengeance. He would track him valiantly for a thousand years if need be! Upon reaching the top floor he found it deserted, with a rope hanging from a hook lodged deep in the window sill. Determined to catch this brigand he surveyed his surroundings carefully, sure his prey was near. Sure enough, he felt a rush of air go past him and out the window, giving a mighty swing of his Great Blade but alas catching nothing but air.

A lesser man may have looked out the window and concluded the a 50ft drop was too far a fall. Was he a lesser man? NAY said he as he lept from the window, NAY I am a man raised by dwarves and no bout of newtonian law may hold me smitten with fear! Dropping down in persute of the dastardly villain. As over a ton of Finbar hit the ground the most peculiar sensations ran though his feet. The squeal of a piglet, the feel of stomping on overripe tomatoes and a softer landing than expected was his greeting at the bottom. He looked down in bewilderment, to behold what looked like an explosion of red paint. Dawning hit as he realised that this, was his nemesis, he felt a slight twinge of sadness as he realised his epic persute was never to be.

One scout was still alive and was later to be interrogated by Catheshal in the most brutal ways known to mankind. In searching the area a child was found, who was discovered to be an escaped captive of a Duergar base further to the east. Wisely concluding that a battle was no place for a child, the party travels back to the Fortress before continuing onwards. Finbar wearing a newly acquired chain shirt, thought fondly of the epic chase that could have been.

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Merchant Lord

You get bad days in this life, no one can disagree. You broke a unique Caster teacup with your breakfast, fell down the stairs on your way to the morning room, much to the panic of the servants. You know, the just darn right awful starts. Then there are the legendary bad days. The ones that could possibly mean the end of the world bad. Six of nine seals were gone, he knew the other three were safe as long as his life held out and that part he had covered in abundance. But six, six was enough. Still, some small comfort could be taken that the gate wouldn’t reappear for a good number of years yet.

Damned Prophets and their imprecise, illogical nonsense. He’d need to have another look for that book. He’d asked Karmic to get another but they were proving illusive, not surprising considering only ten or so of them were ever made. The next option was finding the author. Zeldin, that’d be an even more hopeless cause how’d that saying go? Never search for a Prophet, because he already knows your coming… He pushed such foolish thoughts aside.

Being 646 years old wasn’t easy, he’d seen dwarven friends grow old and die in his time, he’d even outlived a good number of Elves too watching them wither and fade into their eternal rest. Most of his current servants had blood ties all the way back to his youth. The looks of reverence most had for him was unpleasant, the last thing he needed was the foolish children to look upon him as a god. Such things could prove fatal to a man in his delicate position within the world.

He sat now in what he could now safely say was the most uncomfortable chair he’d ever had the misfortune to place his behind in. But alas it would have been rude to refuse Lord Delgans offer to sit in this Golden monstrosity. He envied the seat his old companion, Lictor, Lord Menori Isenhower, had been offered. Most likely the trussed up turkey’s wife’s with it’s exemplary quality craftsmanship. Second rate gold and silver covered everything, funny how some men thought, this was power it said, here I am, fear my prowess.

They’d be awake by now, the one’s Old Master Nethon had flagged up on his last fateful journey. May he rest well, decrepit old bastard, yet another servant with his time utterly spent. Still 250 years was a long time to be traveling the world, under a contract to never rest, never falter. The old boy had been exausted these last hundred years, wanting nothing more than to enter the eternal rest. Yes he’d done well.

He felt a touch on his shoulder, Isenhower towering above him,
“They’re on the move, so please try to stay with us.” he said with a slight, mocking, smile. Blasted man had ridiculously good senses, they’d literally only just begun to move toward them. Feeling there presences like drops of starlight, cold and harsh, five little pinpricks of light in the darkness.

As they entered the large gaudy greeting room he spressed a groan. Their clothes, not an ounce of refinement about them. As grotesque and vile as the abode itself glittering and stating his lack of Noble graces. Being a noble made the transgression worse, they were ment to be the warriors, fearless and proud. He doubted if the man had ever held a knife, let alone a sword. He’d need to have words with the little man.

Raising this little party hadn’t been cheap and many favours had been called in to keep it quiet. Even more to acquire a suitable testing ground. How could these possibly be the ones of prophecy, however the agents must believe it to be so, or his old friend Gavi Nethon would still be wearily travelling the world now.

A few months would see them suitably tested and give him time to secure a more permanent solution for the western province.
Despite how weak they were, it surprised him to see touches of Divinity within several of the party and something darker as well, that would bear watching.

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Odyssey - Finbar Page One

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Mark not my skribbels with kritikill eye. I am no full, yet righting was not my best subject in the Golushkin edukashon I recieved. But I right these words lest I forget.
We are on a trale. Me and a groop of humans and wun nome with a big weezil.
They pretend to kare about justiss much more than the hunting parties of the dwarves, but they deliver deth just as kwick.
We sloo many wolvs, wargs and deadly horrid dog-thing I saw before we fell.
Fell, yes, but risen. By a lord of Deth Nights. Kasimir – Lord of The Golden Hand. He is our new master, for with the rizing, we now owe him much and are on his kwest with his pursor in toe.
We saved a which and I was kommishined by our paladin to despach the offender. His hed came of as easily as any human hed.
We are repairing rodes, but we are also reparing harts as we make our way through this derelikt land. Nuff sed by Finbar for now.

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An ill fated caravan - Part 3
Fort and the woods.

One patch job and four days later the caravan arrived at the Fort, a small rest and gathering village with walls extending arround the full village to keep the predators at bay, both animal and human.
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Varic had a few days earlier created, by mixing tako bell mushrooms with kraken petals he unintentionally created a hallucinogenic  moonshine. Unsurprisingly this sold exceedingly well. Catheshal worked the merchants within the village for an increased yield of gold and better prices for the herbs bought to sell to the next city. Much to Master Gavi’s chargon she also convinced a number of the men to buy scented soap and razer sheets. Something along the lines of ‘bloody women, emasculating, and unnatural could be heard following him around the rest if the day. Harkon was restless, it was time to answer his calling so he sought out the Leader of the village and inquired about any judgements requiring his gods attention. He was informed that this far in the wilderness they took care of their own, but there was a reward for any information about three missing caravans in the Spot the next town along the road just outside the forests. Finbar Garess a man ready  and willing to sample the worlds many gifts. So as any self respecting dwarf would, his first port off call was the Open Croft tavern to simple the world in a good sturdy tankard. The Einstök berry ale was too sweet for a discerning palate such as his, what he wouldn’t give for some Cheerful Delver Stout, it’s rich earthy flavours, the slight bitter undertone. Wistfully ordered another pint. Taur uin Taur purchased a half loaf and honey, carefully laying these out for any passing forest fay just past the treeline. The weasel not ten minutes later thoroughly enjoyed this offering.
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A day was spent within the Fort for rest and necessary repairs needed to the travel worn caravans. The next morning the caravan moved onwards toward the end of its journey.

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An ill fated caravan - Part 2
A Waggon Boys Sights & the new fur coat

A mighty crash sounded the 1st set-back of the journey so far, Belidar knew that sound, it’d been why he’d been hired by Master (gramps) Gavi after all. He concentrated on the echo, must have been a flaw in the steel bearings, the wood’d been sound for sure. Crunch, he flinched, man there went the wheel pins that was messy, not an easy fix anymore. He herd Gramps yell for him, time to earn his keep.
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He’d heard that bigfello with the Hugesword whispering with the others, Wolves apparently, nothing unusual in the woods, just keep a big fire burning. Everyone knew that, maby these foreigners didn’t. Gavi would soon set them right, he always did, he’d seen everything.

The howls were closer now, and that screaming, what was that, hopefully I’d go away soon.

(A few hours later…)

Wolves attacking a caravan, that was new and scary, it’d never happened before. That bigfello with the Hugesword clove the first on that came at him clean in two. He looked so casual too, like chopping potatos for Cook Mira casual, it was frightening. Another seven of the beasts showed up then all teeth and slobber, another scream too, then they came. Huge beyond comparison all muscle and snarls.
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As tall as a man and wide as cart oxen. He froze at the sight unable to move and paralysed by fear at the endless hunger in those eyes. The madness. The Pain. He was shocked into action then, the Graceful Lady started cursing, such a foul mouth. Master Gavi would have him over his knee for even a few of thoes dreadful words. He hoped he wouldn’t smack her, she gave him sweets once. The smaller beasts were dispatched with a merciless efficiency untill only the big monsters still remaind. The Little Person, a Gnome I think Guard Teddy had called it, was frozen stiff like he had been. The big fluffy weasel had pulled him to safty tho, so that was good. The New Guard had started glowing! Firing bolts of light against the beast, it really didn’t like that and stated towards him. A good thing too as Teddy had been frozen like the cursing lady trying to protect her!
With one last strike from….. it fell and just in time too I reckon.

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An ill fated caravan - Part 1
A Merchants thoughts

The first six weeks of travel had been a tiring treck through the thin air of the high passes. Towering mountain roads gave some truly surreal views of endless precipices and some spectacular sunsets to be seen as the bird above the land. Then the fun really began rain, sleet and mud glorious mud from the moment they entered the forest and that was three weeks ago now.
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Master Nethon was in a good mood, despite the complaints of his aging bones, this was were he belonged a full caravan and some interesting company. Interesting, was that the right word for the current lot he’d taken on? He wasn’t sure. Take the softly spoken Finbar Garess for example, with enough Dwarven mannerisms he’d instinctively taken to speaking to the man in the tongue without thinking. Knock off two feet and a more bloody dwarven dwarf you wouldn’t find.

Gnomes he’d learned over the years were all strange creatures but he’d come to belive there were limits to their number of individual oddities one could possess, yet here was Taur uin Taur another freak with enough oddities to set him apart from his own bizarre kind.
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Catheshal, if that bloody woman tried to take his robe one more time… well there’d be stong words needed indeed, one was never too old to be put over one’s knee. Furthermore a true man of the road was ment to look rough around the edges, proud of his hard days of labours, certainly not like thoes dandies in their perfumed parlours. Yet again that bloody woman, you’d think it was Good-day festival with the some of the crew! Yes they’d have words before too long.

Harkon Pegason finally someone relatively normal, if you could ever consider a Paladin normal all those bloody vows and turns out, a ruddy Barrister to boot. All those questions, did I have a licence for the carriage of lethal equipment, was the sige equipment stored within Cardinal Standard, Abadar preserve us what’d I do to deserve all this. Still not a bad man to have on your side.

Finally there was more to that herbalist than met the eye what was his name Varik, the way he handles that knife of his sends chills down the old spine, no doubt about it. Need of keep a closer eye on him a reckon.

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