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(064) Rustics & Heretics

Posted: Wed Aug 06, 2014 2:05 pm
by waysoftheearth
| Valorn Redblade.
Helmut Krabbenhoft.

Your adventure begins... Now! |


When The Hollow Citadel puts forth a Mission it does so with all the the deft finesse of a sledgehammer blow.

And so it was nearly three weeks gone by when the rightly feared Commissionaire Elze set out from the fortress-temple in Maine in her armored carriage-car escorted by a full troop of Knights Templar--half mounted, half on foot--and accompanied by her own valet, bodyguard, and personal seer. The entire train was attended by score of officially retained porters and camp followers with their respective stores and beasts of burden. By the time the city limits were reached the column had attracted a sizable gaggle of street-zealots who--inevitably--swelled the ranks of Missions as they navigate the labyrinthine streets of the imperious city, attracting the half-starved, half-deranged fanatics to an impromptu crusade of sorts.

Helmut Krabbenhoft was among those templars who set out on foot.
Valorn Redblade was the only dwarf among the company retinue; a smith hired on the good reputation of his folk's craft.

Be that as it may, the Mission's road was long and hard and painfully slow. Three westward weeks chasing the tail of winter along ever-rising and rocky roads thru the rural backwaters of the Kingdom saw all but the most hardened fall away. A week back, a third of the inscrutable Commissionaire's company were sent northward on some unknowable duty, while the remainder trudged on into the doleful highlands. And only two days gone by the Commissionaire herself veered southwest taking the majority of her remaining strength.

Thus leaving Helmut Krabbenhoft with instructions to call upon a convent of the Sisters of Mercy only a day or so further into the Hinterlands, collect local intelligence, and then continue directly north-west to rendezvous with the Mission proper in Ket itself.

Helmut is accompanied by a small band of dubious (non-Temple) sorts who, for whatever reasons of their own, have decided that reaching the respite of this rural abbey tomorrow would be preferable to reaching Ket in a few more days hence. Valorn the dwarf is, quite naturally, among these. As are a dozen riffraff from the baggage train; pilgrims and lunatics, mostly women--perhaps with some genuine reason to call upon the Sisters. Perhaps not...

| Let us parley a moment while we wait for Heartless' new character to enter play.... |

Re: (064) Rustics & Heretics

Posted: Thu Aug 07, 2014 11:23 pm
by Condorcet
Helmut arises just before dawn to take his morning prayers, noting with what has become habitual disdain that the rest of the 'company' continue to snore, fart, and drool through their heretical dreams as usual. Only the dwarf seems worthy of any regard, he has been long decided, but a dwarf all the same. The rest are nothing but zealous chaff for the winds.

His daily devotions done, he moves through some combat exercises, his great-sword making satisfyingly righteous hisses in the morning air as he tries to hold at bay the frustration of waiting for the rabble to rouse. The abbey cannot be much further he muses, and then for Ket...

Re: (064) Rustics & Heretics

Posted: Fri Aug 08, 2014 2:00 am
by mistere29
Valorn takes a moment this morning to consider his current situation. He has only been in the Kingdom of Men for a short time now, but he is already not impressed by their species's organizational skills. He can give a pass to the lunatics, they aren't supposed to be competent, but it seems that even the people in charge don't know what they are doing. Why else would he be stuck in the middle of nowhere with this crowd.

Valorn watches Helmut going through his training, at least somebody is the group is making good use of their time. He muses that he may soon need the skills of a warrior, for he is far from a smithy.

"Good Master Krabbenhoft, I wonder if I may join you in your drills, I could use some exercise and it would be good to keep warm in any event."

Re: (064) Rustics & Heretics

Posted: Fri Aug 08, 2014 3:14 am
by Condorcet
Helmut completes a series of movements, sweat now beading visibly on his shaven pate and dribbling down the narrow pony-tail worn by those of the Tines, before he pauses, resting the point of his great-sword in the grass and leaning upon its pommel.

"I train to expunge the world of abominations in the eyes of Thuul dwarf, not to beat metal" he pronounces with lofty certainty, wiping away a trail of sweat.

"Or is there more to this blacksmith than meets the eye perhaps?" he adds, peering intently at his diminutive inquisitor.

"Why do you walk the fields of men instead of the sodden dens of your kin, dwarf? Prey tell. If I must await the pleasure of these VERMIN...", the last with sudden and furious volume, before continuing calmly, "...ere we depart, it may as well be through a good tale."

Re: (064) Rustics & Heretics

Posted: Sat Aug 09, 2014 4:30 am
by waysoftheearth
The other "vermin" look on sullenly at the zealous templar and the dwarf, clearly not enamored of their knight-protector, but absolutely dependent upon him to reach their destination--the abbey. The little knot of women (and a few men) seem a half-starved and, truth be told, half-crazed lot. Still, one has to acknowledge them for making it this far, while ten times their number did not.

The sun is properly risen by now and, by a rare good fortune, the day promises to be mild and bright. The abbey should supposedly be a half dozen miles or so, mostly downhill, along the high "road" they have been navigating this past week thru the Hinterlands. Everyone is foot sore and weary, so they can't reach hospitality soon enough. Beyond that next rise, half a mile yonder, they might even be able to spot the structure across the valley.

Re: (064) Rustics & Heretics

Posted: Mon Aug 11, 2014 12:41 pm
by heartless
Ashtad looks on from the small band of dubious follows with Helmut, watching the others with interest on the way to the rural abbey. Finding the dwarf Valorn a sight to behold, as there are no dwarfs from where Ashtad comes from. Why does Valorn walk the fields of men, Ashtad wonders and awaits a answer.

Contantly Ashtad keeps a look out for any trouble coming to meet the group.


| Edit by ref: Valorn (the smith) is a Dwarf. Helmut (the templar) is a Man. |

Re: (064) Rustics & Heretics

Posted: Tue Aug 12, 2014 1:28 am
by mistere29
Valorn hesitates at first, but seeing a second man looking on with curiosity, decides to tell his tale.

"I am here by choice. I was once the chief craftsman of my people, but after my liege passed on, another was appointed in my place. My replacement was younger, less talented dwarf, but he was the new Theng's nephew. I could not stand to work under a lesser craftsman after all my years of service, so I left my clan to ply my trade amongst your people."

Re: (064) Rustics & Heretics

Posted: Tue Aug 12, 2014 3:45 am
by Condorcet
"Hmmm, blacksmith it is then eh?" says Helmut, clearly not entirely convinced, "Well I hope you can handle a hammer at least."

"And what about you woman?", he says, turning to Ashtad, "You shot anything other than rabbits with that there bow?"

Re: (064) Rustics & Heretics

Posted: Tue Aug 12, 2014 11:59 am
by heartless
"Hi there friends" says Ashtad. "May I join you for my tale", replys Ashtad as she moves closer to the pair. Ashtad reaches for an arrow from her Quiver and in a split second lets fly an arrow that hits it mark in a small tree branch nearby. "They call me the flaming arrow, and if we meet any unfriendly creatures I will show you why they call me that. Lets just say I don't like goblins. Its a sure thing I can shoot a rabbit with my eye closed dear Helmut, but in battle I will show you my skills are invaluable", brags Ashtad. "In short I was a women raised by the wood elves who trained me to be a marksman with my bow and arrow. Valorn has told his blacksmith story, now your turn Helmut ", requests Ashtad smiling and goes to retrieve her arrow.

Re: (064) Rustics & Heretics

Posted: Tue Aug 12, 2014 12:20 pm
by waysoftheearth
The dozen grubby camp followers listen to the tales wide-eyed, and gasp appropriately at Ashtad's show of skill with the bow. Some of them make the Sign of the Enigma at mention of Goblins and Elves, feverently praying that none such shall be met before the abbey is reached.

"The day draws on, milords," they mutter anxiously, "We must surely reach the abbey before nightfall else perish!"