The Long Road of Power

We Are The Champions
Victory in the Bardic Arena

Keston Garess stood in a circle of blood and sand, his heavy adamantine greatsword held firmly in his hands, as his cousin Finbar Garess held aloft the great head of a black dragon to rapturous barbarian applause. Keston was a soldier, yes, but so often these days his work consisted of inspections, rotas, meetings and attending public events. Today, in his proud city’s bardic arena, he had been a soldier once again, acting in concert with other men. Well, not exactly men…

There was the Great Lord Harkon Pegason and his mighty bow of terrifying power; and his cousin and Commander, Finbar. None of the others were men, but no less for it. Ama, a silver dragon; Varik, an elf of devillish sneaking skills and deadly daggers, Harlos Fury, a dreadfully incendiary lava gnome of SARENRAE; and last but not least, The Lady Catheshal, whose very word could stop men in their tracks, and whose songs were the inspiration of a city.

All were now victors in battle but more importantly, saviours of the proud city of Fort Tuskwater. It felt good to be a real soldier again!

Revere One's Enemies
A short prayer after battle

Finbar Garess lay back against the cave wall, allowing the warm tingling of Harry’s healing spell to settle his battle wounds. They had just fought and defeated a black dragon, and it had taken its toll on the big ranger, both physically and emotionally.

Harkon’s dragon had fought well, and his own bowstring had sung songs worthy of the finest minstrels of Droskar. Harry’s massive fire spells had been decisive, but were also tricky to deal with in the heat of the battle, Finbar thought. Good old Varik had been darting in and out of the battle like a snake, making those critical attacks that only he knew how to make. Lady Catheshal’s songs were not only inspiring, but physically bolstering as well. Her death had been a sore blow, and thank the Lord of Sufficient Toil the party had that Resurrection scroll to bring her back from the great Beyond. He looked over at her dark countenance and realised she might be humming her own Divine prayer of thanks.

Holding one of the teeth of the dragon in his hand, Finbar reached into his pouch and brought out a small wax carving, shaped and painted in the image of Droskar. Repeating a ritual that had been taught to him by the Spirit Ranger, Floki Stonebeard, he smeared the wax around the tooth, while chanting an old Dwarven Victory Song, until the tooth was totally embalmed in the waxy blob, now without the form of Droskar. Digging a small hole in the ground, Finbar inserted the object into the ground and then covered it up. “Sufficient toil leads to eventual success!” Finbar muttered as he stood up to ready himself for the long trek home.

290 Points of Damage
The Deadliest Round

Finbar Garess charged into the chamber to what seemed to be the most resplendent of the dwarven aberrations manipulating the void that was destroying the home of his kin, the Golushkin Dwarves. “This was not a real dwarf,” he told himself as his mighty Veridian blade swept through the air and then through the enemy himself….without so much as a drop of blood splashed. As the great two handed sword arced through the air, the outline of his enemy shimmered in a haze that could only be some sort of displacement protection.

Taking a moment, Finbar activated the TRUE SEEING ability of the Oculus of the Cyclop Lich, but in that very moment, Varik, who had positioned himself into a dangerous flanking position, fell victim to the huge maw of the aberration, and disappeared into nothing. Swallowed whole!

While Harkon fired deadly arrows, Lady Catheshal sang songs of power, and Harry burned deadly fury into the room. Finbar could see the monster clearly now through his purple eye. With a lightining fast cry to Droskar, the ranger stood erect in a stance that seemed to soak up the very power of the Dwarven God into his whole physical presence.

Not once, but four times, his shoulders rippled with power as the greatsword fell upon the dwarven enemy like a cleaver through jelly. The first sweep clove the head in twain, as evil blood erupted from the creature into the air. In a brutally graceful move the sword slid out and swept round in a cleaving motion to take the lower left leg and slice the groin. Again the weapon slid out and again it arced round, cutting deep into the back of the creature as it span round from the force of the previous blow. “By Droskar!” Finbar shouted, as he jumped up into the air and swept his blade into a full revolution to cleave the evil body in two, creating a top and bottom that separated from each other and slipped to the ground.

Only mounds of flesh and visceral horror remained after the final deadly blow. And Varik, lying whimpering on the floor, returned from the extra dimensional stomach that had now been completely obiterated. But the game was not over yet…

Home Sweet Home!

Field Marshal Report to Lord Harkon

I must commend the council’s warskills on the recent venture that you were unable to attend. In a recent skirmish against a deadly giant slug on a dangerous hillside ledge, I took the unprecedented step of standing back and unsheathing no weapon in combat. Instead, I looked upon this as an opportunity to test the mettle and guile of the party, and I am happy to say that I was not disappointed.

Although some of the group members, particularly Varik, but even the Lady Catheshal, looked askance at me (as if I had gone insane…or worse), I stood my ground and stood by my decision, and am happy to say that, even without my help, the group delivered, and the slug was thrown down from a high place and broke the mountainside where he smote it in his ruin.

I exaggerate the result somewhat, but suffice to say, the group performed admirably and I feel my inaction was thereby justified. You should not fear that this will be a commonly re-occurring event. Droskar knows, I am not one to hold back in a fight, but even with the lesser soldiers, it is my way to spring surprises on them, to keep them on their toes; so I treat this as a necessary field test, which, now being passed, can be put to rest and not repeated in the near future.

I feel sure you will agree with me and would also recommend that we give some sort of medal or award to the party members. Perhaps, just to seem fair, we should honour the whole group, including ourselves. Star of Droskar would be a good idea. Or even Medallion of Erastil. Or Ribbon of Saranrae.

I would also report that I have initiated some disciplinary training in some of the outlying outposts we encountered. A group of soldiers challenged us without recognising any of us. I must say, we must have been a bit grubbier than usual, but even so….how many rangers in the wild evince such a strange eye as mine. Notwithstanding, altough some would say “they were only doing their job”, I found their manner to be a bit too “enthusiastic” and, putting myself in the situation of a travelling citizen, their manner seemed a little too close to abuse.

As such, I have despatched a Baker’s Dozen of the guard under young Corporal Cobber (you may remember him as one of the early bandits we redeemed – a shining example of how adversity can be turned to political gain) to give some training in finesse and public relations in some of these outlying areas. I for one, am all too aware of the need to be vigilant; but I also feel that our own tax paying citizens should be free to trade between the towns and outposts of our realm.

While in town, I intend to look into the works being carried out in the sewers, and I intend to spring a few spot traps on the men at watch. But may I also say, it is good to be back.


Big Wiggie don't play Sitaar

One day down at the Veldenhalm Barracks captained by Iorlov, new conscript, McTavish enters the room to find his mentor Tristan furiously polishing a lower button on his military jacket.

McTavish: You sure you got enough shine on that, Mate?
Tristan: Actually, no. Still more work to do.
McTavish: Mate, I was only joking. Take a break. It’s only inpsection.
Tristan: Only inspection? Tomorrow’s inspection isn’t just your Captain Iorlov strolling past with a “tuck in that shirt”, you know….
McTavish: What do you mean?
Tristan: Big Wiggie’s taking the inspection.
McTavish: Who’s Big Wiggie?
Tristan: Shelyn’s knuckles, Mate, you better shape up and shape up quick! The Big Boss. General Garess!
McTavish: And he likes shiny buttons, does he?
Tristan: He don’t like dull buttons, Mate, and if you got any of them on YOUR shirt, YOU don’t want HIM not liking them.
McTavish: Okay, I get it. I’ll get mine a gleaming too. Hey, why do you call him Big Wiggie?
Tristan: He’s the “BIG WIG”, isn’t he?
McTavish: Yeah, so…..?
Tristan: The Big EAR Wig!
McTavish: What’s with the EAR?
Tristan: Gosh, you don’t know nuthin’, do ya? Last time he visited the barracks he was questioning some citizen and didn’t like the answers he got, so he takes the geezer aside and rips his ear off with his hand.
McTavish: With his hand?
Tristan: And he’s very particular about buttons.
McTavish: Okay, I’m polishing. I’m polishing!

Odyssey - Finbar Page Nine

“Temper, temper!”

That’s what Finbar’s mother had used to say when he was very young. Before she sold him to the dwarves, that is. Warcleric Ragnor had helped him with that. Long excercises of meditations and discipline had not been easy for Finbar. But he had endured. Spirit Ranger Floki had also helped him. And generally, it was only around giants and trolls that he still completely “LOST IT”. But a baby owl bear?

To be true to himself, Finbar didn’t really care about owl bears, and it always seemed better to have less of them in the world than more. He wasn’t as sentimental as the humans about babies. A hunting wolf will go for the weakest in the pack, will it not? But it was the quick temper that was worrying Finbar. He had to keep it under control.

So, he felt quite proud of his own restraint in dealing with the stinking hulking horrible stupid hill giant. Even Ragnor would have been surprised. But these defilers of Droskar….. NO! NO! NO! Not Droskar! Beloved God! How could they? Luckily, Harkon was a man of justice. And a man who also seemed to like a good hot cross pun.

Actually, Finbar didn’t like having to break the finger of his officer. The officer had been doing well in most other things, and it wasn’t HIS fault that the drunken guard was discovered. But Finbar had learned through the Dwarves of Golushkin that discipline must be enforced. So Helga would have some help in the forge for a while. But hopefully the guard would never drink on duty again. And the officer would be extra vigilant.

“Just keep it reel, Finbar!” he thought to himself. “Keep calm…and carry on!” Thank the flaming fires of Droskar that Catheshal had kept him in check. Yes, justice must prevail! But less of the temper, he mused. The Hot Cross Sons of Droskar served better than the lethal leprosy of veridian glass cutting off heads in fury. There was a lesson to be learned there.

Nuff said.

Odyssey - Finbar Page Eight
The Brevoy Comma

Thanks to Catheshal, I am now at the stage where I start refining my writing. And it’s not always easy, I can assure you. Today, I am coming to gripps with the importance of the Brevoy Comma. Cathy says this is often left out by poor writers, thus causing strange misundrstandings at times.

Basically, it is the comma that is placed in a list of three things before the last item. The example she gave is:

“I love my parents, Droskar and Helga.”

Now without the Brevoy Comma, one could easily misundrstand the sentance above as meaning that I love my parents AND my parents are Droskar and Helga. As you know, this is not the case, so placing the Brevoy Comma:

“I love my parents, Droskar, and Helga.”

See? Confusion removed. I don’t know how true the statement is though. Actually, I hate my parents, quite like Helga and revere Droskar.

Nuff Said!

Odyssey - Finbar Page Seven

The months slide past quickly and with constant daily martial training and getting fool marks in my weekly spelling test for the first time ever, I feel it is time to start concentrating on the magick.

There is no doubt that the rest of the party are very well imprest when I meditate for ten minutes to commune with birds, but I feel I need to start showing them some of the other magickle powers of the Spirit Ranger. I hope they won’t mind missing out on those birds too much.

Olegsburg is coming along nicely. Young Kesten Garess has a keen attitude, yet sometimes too keen, I feel. I will need to keep an eye on him. Nuntheless, Droskar would be so pleased that we have been able to save the souls of some of these bandits by giving them the chance to be real soldiers in defence of our new lands.

We have a day off tomorrow after some hefty exploration adventuring. I think I will pop in for a visit to the brewery and see how it fairs.

Nuff Sed!

Lessons in writing - Finbar
with the help of Catheshal


Koff is cough.
Bow is bough.
Threw is through.
Ruff is rough.

Ah, I give up…….

Odyssey - Finbar Page Six

Oh Droskar Droskar quite revealed,
see how these bandi’ts fates are sealed.
Sivilisashun riding high,
We clens the land
and offir hand
of frendship
to those who would not die,
but instead work with us to build a grate land.
Is that so hard to understand?

This poim was by Finbar. Nuff sed.


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