Bristol fest 2010
Oct. 30th, 2010 04:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
king_pellinorIt was all rather good fun, despite being a bit cold - and the heavy rain at times didn't help either. Being the Knight Commander, and so able to pretty much do what you like and have people obey orders, is very nice :-)
Anyway, for the record here is a brief write-up I did from an in-character point of view.
I tell the tale of the destruction of the village Gadly and the valorous end of Lady Francesca Visconti, Templar of Rum, of the cleansing of Kryganite corruption and the death of a mighty beast of evil, and of the bringing of the light of Longstor to a pack of noble wolf-men. The tale is of courage in the darkness, of valour when hopelessly outclassed, of how the light of the Seven can be brought to the most desolate places.
At the request of the Templar Order, I and perhaps thirty other adventurers gathered at the Green Dragon, an excellent tavern in Brisel. The Order’s wish was that we should go to seek Lady Francesca Visconti, the Seneschal of the Rumish chapter of the Order. She had arrived in the area a few months before, searching for the fabled Hand of Logan, thought to be an ancient artefact of great power, but had not been seen for some considerable time. Our aims were to find her and bring back a message from her if she were alive, or if she were dead to bring back her sword, a holy relic of the Order. Helping her find the Hand of Logan would be helpful too.
As the lady and her companions were last seen around the village of Gadly, a day’s march south and west into wild lands, we set off in that direction. We arrived there shortly after nightfall to find the villagers rather disturbed: four of them had been cruelly slain a few days previously by beasts in the woods. They had captured a man called Lucas, who lived in the woods and was not molested by the beasts, thinking him to be in league with them and so to be punished for the deaths.
I immediately stopped the villagers beating this Lucas, and ordered him to be taken care of, though I did not release him as I wished to establish the position first – his answers were evasive, and the villagers made an interesting point.
Also in the village we found the grave of a Templar. He had been a companion of the lady we sought, brought to the village a few days before grievously wounded. The village healer, an alchemist named Helena, had tried all her arts to cure his infected wound, but to no avail. Brother Rath laid him, and all the graveyard, to rest, and I am told that the rush of souls departing was as the passage of a mighty host, for it seems no Kharachian had ever visited that village.
We then asked for quarters for the night, which were kindly offered by the villagers. We were settling into them while the villagers gathered to discuss something, when some figures appeared approaching the gate. I and some companions were going to meet them when an awful scream was heard - something had climbed the roof of the meeting hut and jumped down inside, slaughtering the villagers. Lucas was released, and the creature fled with him.
We did what we could for the villagers, but all that was possible was to lay them to rest. Shaken by this attack, we set to putting the village in a state of defence against these beasts. This was not done too soon, for within a little while we heard howling in the woods, and shadowy shapes were seen approaching the walls and gates. When they attacked, we found them to be bestial men, some of whom transformed sickeningly into manlike wolves as we watched. Then followed the first battle in the darkness, as we fought to keep them from our throats. Normal weapons did not bite on the wolves, and even blest blades did not keep them down for long, but we discovered that silver was their bane.
Wolf-men, a full moon, silver… even I could put those clues together.
More attacks followed, often preceded by panicked woodsmen fleeing to the village. Some we saved, but by the screams in the dark it seems some fell unmarked. During these battles we found out something of our werewolf foes. All were stronger than normal men, but those who looked only like bestial men could at least be fought with steel. The pale-furred wolves could not, but died to silver weapons. And the dark-furred wolves died only to silver that had been blest or enchanted, and they died hard, and their claws cut like razors.
We determined that rather than stay huddled in the village all night we must find out more about our foes. The only way we could see to do this was to find Lucas, the man who was with the werewolves but not of them, and whom they had sought to free from his imprisonment. One of the woodsmen was able to give us directions to his home, and so a party set off to see what could be done.
Now selecting this party was hard, for a group wandering in a werewolf wood by the light only of the full moon must be strongly armed and stout of heart. And yet those who remained must also be as strong and stout - but our store of silver blades was small, and the mages and priests had prepared for demons and Kryganites, not for steel-taloned shadows in the dark. But go we did, leaving the village in the care of Sir Anthony.
Although the moon was full, the clouds and the trees hid it as we left, and our scouts, new to the area and with only scanty directions, struggled to lead us aright. But they did show the true way, and despite the wolves we came to the grotto in which Lucas lived.
At the entrance to the grotto we found the bodies of four Templars, all cruelly hacked about. With no Kharachian with us we could only put their anguished corpses into more seemly poses of honour and vow to return; for now we went into the deepest blackness yet.
Through the dark and through the gloom, and then we saw two figures barring the way, heavily armed and foul of mien. Scamper the Demonologist told us that they were demonic warriors set to block our path; with blest blade, and with the shattering aid of Maherhm of Mithim they were destroyed, though with some pain.
Through the gloom and further through we found two more, and served them the same way. And now we came to the final chamber, wherein we found Lucas speaking to a demon – the Shamer, Primate Ali has named that beast - and I can say no more here of the whys and wherefores of this for it is beyond my competence, save that the demon guards we had fought were his, to keep that meeting safe and private.
And also we found an ethereal lady in white – the shade of Lady Francesca. Attacked by werewolves and her companions slain, she had dragged herself through the grotto to the achievement of her quest, for Lucas was the Hand of Logan.
I promised her first to bring back to her Order her sword and news of her death; second, to lay her and her companions to rest; and third, to seek the sixth of her companions, for as yet we had found only five dead, and so there was still hope for the last.
The demon having departed we spoke to Lucas the Hand of Logan. He told us that he was indeed ancient, and had fought in the first wars between gods and demons, before the Mirror of the Heavens was shattered and the six children of Sidhe became twelve. He now spent his time advising the werewolf pack, though being of Logan he mixed Longstorian and Kryganite teachings.
Of late the pack had turned more towards the corrupter: the old Alpha wolf, leader of the pack, had died, and had been succeeded by his elder son. This son was much more vicious than his sire, and was leading the pack towards Krygan – testing them to prove their strength and culling the weak. Indeed, the attacks we were suffering were intended to try the strength of his pack and to remove the unworthy on our swords.
This was dire news indeed, for if a whole pack should turn to the Dark then the people of the area must be in great peril. There was hope, though: the younger son, Beta, was much more enlightened and would prefer to follow Longstor. Unfortunately the way of the pack was to follow the Alpha’s commands absolutely, and so the Beta wolf would not challenge his brother directly. Lucas remained aloof: he had no preference for Longstor or Krygan, and would not even inform us of the whereabouts of either brother. He would let events turn out as they would, and not interfere. We, on the other hand, had no such qualms – it was clear that another change of Alpha would be best for the pack, for the area, and for the people. If we could but achieve it.
We returned to the village to find it had been under attack in our absence, but had prevailed – though one young mercenary had died in the darkness.
I put Lady Francesca’s sword in the care of Sir Ezekiel, with an injunction to see it returned to her Chapter as soon as possible, and then proceeded to fulfil the next of my promises to her. With Sir Anthony, Brother Rath, and a scout named Leon I made haste to the fallen Templars, and then to the Lady’s body. Brother Rath laid them all to rest and then, as we returned at speed, used Lord Kharach’s power to cause the shadows stalking us to flee in fear - a wonderful and heartening reversal of place which cheered me greatly.
With that I thought the night’s labours at an end, for our first quests were achieved and the werewolves would I thought be best fought in daylight. I therefore prepared to rest, albeit while seeing the village well defended, only to find that more must be done.
Tobias and Primrose the alchemists had been diligently poring over the work of the late Helena, and had found her notes suggesting that a great werewolf could only be slain using an arcane preparation. Part of this was the blood of a great werewolf - which seemed to me to be putting the cart before the horse – but the pressing matter was that it required mithril which had been gathered by the light of a full moon. Now mithril is in short enough supply, but even shorter was the supply of time, for that meant that we must venture out once more to seek it before dawn.
After much cudgelling of brains the Witchfinder suggested that mithril might be found in a nearby gorge, but he held out little hope of it – it was simply a better prospect, to his learning, than tree and leaf. Then inspiration struck someone, and a local scout was asked. He told us that there was an old dwarf mine close by, and that seemed a much better prospect.
That led to the next problem, for the constant attacks had drained the strength of the defenders and many were now forced to rest to recover. Our supply of blest blades was likewise slim, and so it was decided that light feet would be our best friends. So I went with only Sir Anthony, Tobias, a scout named Kayla, and Sir Ezekiel’s sword blest by Sidhe.
We sped out of the village, but immediately became embroiled in a fight with werewolves. With those dispatched we hurriedly followed the path to the mine, which was barred by a large door. Strangely this was unlocked, and led to a much smaller passage into the hill. Sir Anthony led the way, but was afflicted by some poison or other filth as he made his way in. This seemed to come from some thick cobwebs, and after they were swept aside we had little trouble. Inside we found the mutilated body of our last Templar, and the ghost of the mine’s owner, an extremely surly and unhelpful dwarf most untypical of his race.
Creeping through tunnels we found them to be dead ends, although Sir Anthony had fun with a box of tricks he found at one end. We went back to the entrance to take the other way, but as I turned the first corner I found myself face to claw with a ghoul, which froze me in my place before I could react. Sir Anthony dragged me back and held off the ghoul with the power of Kharach as I drew Sir Ezekiel’s sword, only to find that the blessing had waned to nothing after the fight at the outset. With incredible speed the ghoul managed to paralyse both myself and Sir Anthony, despite our calling on our Gods, and go past to paralyse Tobias and Kayla. This left us all four at the mercy of the ghoul, which started to molest and attempt to devour the scout as she lay helpless on the floor.
Recovering our wits, however, Sir Anthony and I threw ourselves at it. While I beat it aside with Sir Ezekiel’s sword, and called on Sidhe to drive it back and away, Sir Anthony began an impassioned plea to Kharach to divert some little of his sight to that dark place and to destroy the abhomination. As the air grew thick with righteous cries above the bestial snarling of the ghoul that prayer was answered and the foul thing was struck with Kharach’s holy power. Praising the Lord of Death for his mercy I leapt to Kayla's side and cradled her in my arms as I looked for life. The Seven must have been smiling on us that night, for she had suffered no serious harm.
Unable to stand in a cramped mine, with scarcely any light to see the foes we could not hope to defeat, and with little or no healing for the wounds we surely must suffer if we continued, we took the only course open to us - we continued through the mine in search of the mithril that must be gained if the werewolves were to be brought from their corrupt and heretical path.
The tunnel opened into a cavern, with no other exits we could see, though another ghoul did appear from some hidden cleft. This one was not so hardy as the first, though, and fled from the determined invocation of our Gods. As Sir Anthony and I drove it back Tobias searched for mithril and eventually found it – helped not a little by the ghostly dwarf, who by now had recovered something of the normal generosity of his race
At that we raced back through the mine and out into the rain, and back to the village. The guard there still stood, though sadly diminishing through wounds and fatigue, and so we stood to arms through the rest of the night. With the blessings of the Gods and the power of the mages all spent we doled out our small store of scrolls to ensure that there would always be a weapon that could defend us against the wolves that gave us no respite, and we huddled under a shed against the rain, or around the fire when the rain gave out, and we hoped and prayed and ached for dawn.
And at last dawn came, the pale light of the full moon being changed for the yet paler light of the sun – though this soon waxed into joyous daylight. Then could we refresh our eyes with light, and our bodies with food and drink, and perhaps sit and rest awhile.
So we then took stock. Our quest was done, the Lady found and her relic saved. We now had a greater duty, to destroy the evil Alpha wolf and bring the light of Longstor to the pack. Our spirits were refreshed, and though our armour was almost gone and our healing dwindling, we had the power of the Seven with us, and the mages had recovered their soulfire. Also, when Lady Fearnley and Father Thatcher had been preparing the ground for a shrine to Longstor they had discovered a silver sword, which had proved a gift of great worth in fighting the creatures, and was to be of greater value yet.
Strangely though, when Brother Rath sought to invoke his Lord’s blessings upon the blade he was rebuffed, and when Brother Norbert tried the same with his Lady’s the same was found. And so the blade was left unblest at that time, as none would defy the manifest will of the Seven.
To destroy the Wolf we needed two things more: the blood of a great werewolf, and certain herbs. With these Tobias and Primrose could brew their elixirs that could slay the creature outright. The latter we thought we could find easily enough, so we resolved to seek them first and worry about the blood later.
Setting out into the woods once more – but in daylight this time – we were again beset by wolves and wolfkin. Though now some seemed less ready for the fight than they had been, and when we spared them our swords they would flee, though others among them fought as fiercely as ever. As Lady Fearnley guided us to where she thought the flowers might grow, one great werewolf seemed to act as if it sought peace, and would beckon and call rather than attack, although in the end it too threw itself at us – wounding me sorely as I sought to speak to it, as well as others of our party. But still we prevailed in the end, and though battered we all returned with our prize flowers.
So that left the blood of the werewolf. Our thought was that perhaps we could wound the beast first, and gather blood from the blades that had done so. But as we were gathering for a wolf-hunt the Alpha himself attacked, with many minions. That battle was fierce indeed, for we all knew that our foe was invincible yet must be defeated. Many a warrior stood facing the Alpha armed only with steel – bravely fighting a foe they had no hope of hurting - and was felled by its mighty claws, only to be rescued by faithful comrades who took their place and fell in their turn. Even blest and enchanted silver seemed to lack any edge to harm the beast, although they took their toll of its companions. At last though the Alpha was lured away, I believe by Sir Anthony, and Drustan of Llaminusia, and gave us rest to lick our wounds – though apparently intending to return in two hours.
Tobias and Primrose looked over the weapons which had struck the beast, but the small traces of blood were not enough for their purposes. So at least now our way was clear – if the Alpha wolf could not be made to yield the key to his own destruction, then the Beta wolf must be asked.
Wearily then we mustered another party, though this time we hoped for a more peaceful outcome. Making our way through the woods to the reported home of the Beta wolf, we were accosted by more wolves. I spoke to them peacefully and asked permission to pass, but they merely snarled and leapt at us.
After a little Sir Anthony was suddenly struck by an urge to declaim all he knew of the Hand of Logan. As he fell to the ground, struck by the clubs of our friends behind us, I too began to recount my knowledge. After that things went black for me, too - I am told that demons were lurking and trying to gather information, but I know no more of that.
Soon we began to encounter wolves who would listen to me rather than attacking. To my relief, when I explained that we followed Longstor and sought strength through the nurturing of the weak rather than their culling, we were given permission to pass. And so we were found by the Beta wolf, a courteous and honourable man. He wished to learn more of Longstor, and was troubled by a blighted area in the forest. He promised to give us some of his blood if we would establish our good faith by destroying this blight.
Now this led us to a dilemma, for the two hours granted us by the Alpha wolf were nearly up. If we were to stay in the woods then those at the village might be attacked, and with half their strength absent the Alpha could not be resisted and must over-run them completely. Yet if we were to return we might never again be strong enough to venture out. Though many advised a return to the village, I decided to press on. Although I hated to think it, in our party we did have the alchemists needed to make the elixir, and the warriors, priests and mages to apply it, and so even if the village and all in it were destroyed then we still had hope of victory. Even if the cost of that victory were so many lives then the worth of the victory was greater still, and so even that grievous price would be cheap.
And so we came to a place of Kryganite corruption. We slew the deformed beasts that guarded it, and Lady Fearnley and High Father Thatcher cleansed it. Tobias gathered the blood that the Beta shed for us, and we made haste and speed back to the village. As we drew near we heard sounds of battle dying away, though whether in victory or defeat we could not tell.
Bursting into the village through deserted gates we found, to our great joy, that the defences still held - just - and although the battle we had heard had been close, the enemy had once more been repelled. We were in the nick of time to help with the healing, though, and to relieve the battered guardians of the gates.
From then it was a race to prepare the elixir before the Alpha should return – to our great good fortune he had not chosen to do so as yet. The formula, as deciphered by Primrose and Tobias, should have taken several hours to brew. The excellent Tobias, though disavowing any claim to mastery of his craft, was however able to cut this down considerably, saving much time by the expenditure of much smoke. And all this despite the occasional mislaid vial, and the ducking of spectators behind cover at the merest hint of a spark.
As the final touches were being put to the wolf’s bane, Sir Anthony, Brother Rath and I left to complete promises we had made. The Templar in the mine had not been laid to rest, and nor had the old Alpha, father of the present leaders of the pack. In order that our defeat should leave the slate as clean as possible we sped out for Brother Rath to perform these ceremonies. Practiced now at facing wolves we made short work of those which would stop us, pausing only to implore them not to throw their lives away. Our speed in arriving allowed Brother Rath time to give suitable respect to the dead, and their souls were duly ushered on to Kharach.
Once last time through the woods we ran, and the wolfkin who assailed the village were sore amazed to find two knights of Ithron at their backs. For now the last and greatest battle was on us, and the Alpha himself approached to try his strength with us, and decide whether the pack should ever more be the dark servants of Krygan or whether it should live in the light of the Seven. Not alone he came, but before him he sent his lesser minions. These we hurled back into the woods whence they came, for all of us knew the prize for which we fought and though the foe was terrible we had conquered their like before, and the fear we had once felt had long been mastered.
But as the vanguard fled the blessings of the Seven and the soulfire of the mages flickered and died on our blade, for they had been many and the battle long. It was then that the Alpha approached, and the moment of crisis came.
At that moment the silver sword I held, the gift of Longstor, blazed out afresh with the holy power of Kharach. For the blessing which Brother Rath had sought to invoke that morning had not been rejected, but only deferred until the time was right. So with the power of Kharach and the blade of Longstor we fought to bring death appointed to the evil one, and to purge the corruption of the pack.
I can give no clear picture of that battle, for it was a whirlwind of steel and fur, the howls of the wolves mingling with the cries of the wounded, steel and silver and claws crossing and recrossing. I faced the Alpha and struck it soundly, as I thought, but was thrown aside to face its minions. Sir Anthony’s honour blade faired no better and he was driven back. Sir Marcus stepped in and was served the same. Lady Fearnley’s staff, the daggers of Drustan and Locke and Kessler, the spear of Amadeus, Sergeant Franklin, Beda, Karona, all these and more hurled themselves into the fray. I collapsed as claws rent my throat, but hands took me and healed me to fight again. Others fell, and always another stepped in to take their place, to wield again the blest blades and wound the beast. Warriors with shattered shield and blunt steel faced the wolf, to allow mages with enchanted silver to strike. My ragged mail and battered chest were thrust through, but yet again I was brought back to the battle. The ground was soaked with blood and littered with the dying, when the mighty sword of Longstor pierced the Alpha’s chest and broke, leaving a deathly shard in its heart. With our strength waning we redoubled our efforts, and at last the Wolf fell. Quickly Tobias took the dagger he had prepared with the elixir and drove it into the Alpha’s heart. A second dagger and a second dose, and the deed was done.
And so we cheered our victory and gave thanks to the Seven. With promises of friendship and trust between men and wolves, and vowing to return to teach them of Longstor, we left the village of Gadly and made our weary way back to Brisel, to the warmth and light of the Green Dragon, that we had left a year or more ago it seemed.
So there is the tale. Through trust in each other and in the Seven we prevailed. Each fought to protect other, none stinted in giving blood, sweat or treasure, and through that long night and cold day all showed the utmost courage and faith. I am proud to have been there, and to have known that valorous band. Sir Anthony of the Black Order, foremost in battle. The Templars Sir Ezekiel the learned and Sir Marcus of the shining arms. Lady Fearnley and Father Thatcher of Longstor, and Brother Rath of Kharach. Tess Farrier, physician without peer and saviour of us all. The Witchfinder and the other mages – Maherhm the open-handed, Scamper and Riese of the flashing silver blades and Izrael Fry, though he would deny having been there. The alchemists Tobias and Primrose, without whom the beast would live yet. And not least the mercenaries and scouts, who formed the most solid battle lines I have seen in many a day, and all of whom can rightly say they fight more fiercely than wolves.
