Red Wizard

Blackguards!

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H O L G A R T H

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Holgarths eyes widened as Weaves unleashed an unnatural plague of insects from her weapon. Her witchcraft, a terrible sight to behold, descended on the approaching horsemen, engulfing their leader and bestowed a death that did not bear dwelling too long on upon him. The King o' the Hills and the High Places glanced at the monster responsible for this abominable sorcery, gritting his teeth. His suspicions had been correct - it would not do to let his guard down among these ones. Supressing his terror, Holgarth forced his gaze ahead to face the oncoming enemy.

The wyvern, now riderless, went into a frenzy. It lashed out at the nearest knight, effortlessly running him through with its barbed tail despite his heavy mail. The metal closest to the impact began to fizzle and melt from the potent venom in the stinger, a godless shriek escaping his mouth as his body was burned from within. Next, the great wyrms massive maw descended on the horses neck, snapping it in two and tossing the slaughtered animal to the side. The rest of the knights evaded as best as they could, trying to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the raging beast, incidently pushing them right into Holgarth and his allies.

Holgarth was impressed with the movements of this Brandon - his name ringed a bell; a champion of renown? - He was fast as fury, and strong as steel. To battle this man would be dangerous, but also glorious. Holgarth hoped to get the chance to kill him one day, but not now. They could use all the blades they could get to come out of this alive. The rest of the knights bore down on them now, spread in the customary wedge of a cavalry charge. One of them had Holgarth in his sights, hefting a great axe with two hands, aiming to claim the barbarian Kings head. As the knight descended upon him, Holgarth spun to the other side, slippery as a snake, roaring like thunder as he swung the Underblade into the horse. The fell blade split skin, muscle and bone as if it was not there, showering everything and everyone nearby in red hot blood. The blade did not stop, however, but continued its upward arc into the stunned rider, embedding itself in his gut and dragging him out of the saddle.

The great axe fell and tumbled to the ground. Holgarth rolled beneath a lance and grabbed onto it. He looked up, quickly finding Feras with his gaze, and threw the axe to him handle first. Make yourself useful, Frail! he shouted, Battle is joined! Let the blood flow! He had no time to wait for a reply, however, as another knight soon went for the kill. Holgarth managed to sidestep his lance and quickly broke it off with a swing of the Underblade. He used the cut off top of the weapon as a javelin, throwing it into the slit of the riders horned helmet, piercing his head. The knight brought his hands to his head, screaming, pawing uselessly at the wooden shaft sticking out of his face. Holgarth left him for dead and moved on, blade and body splattered with blood.

He witnessed as one of their own, the strange woodland creature with antlers, desperately tried to hide from the oncoming wyvern. The struggle was short lived; the giant beast was too fast, too furious. It spitted the poor creature through the chest with its venomous stinger, a silent scream forming on its dying face. Something strange happened, then. The creature began to transform, shedding its weak and slender frame for something terrible. A monster in its own right. It turned on the wyvern, still impaled on the tail, lashing at it with razor sharp talons. The winged wyrm roared in pain, thrashing the beast to and fro, ultimately unable to shake it off. With a final slash, the beast severed the tip of the wyverns tail, prompting a shower of blood and venom to erupt from the wound. The wyvern took flight, distancing itself from the terrible foe, but the beast was in the end undone as its entire being was drenched in the acidic venom. It collapsed to the ground without a sound, smoldering and bubbling. In death, it had at least rid the rest of them from the horrors of the wyverns stinger. A relief, no doubt.

Welcome to Vradia

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S i m b e l m y n ë

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Walking near the rear of the group and a bit to herself, Simbel was observing her companions. Her face, an expressionless mask of ivory, obfuscated the thoughts and feelings simmering inside her - confusion, anxiety, excitement, uncertainty. She had never before travelled in a group such as this, even among her sisters in the coven. The witches o' the woods were seldom seen more than two at a time, apart from when they gathered in worship of the Wilder. Simbel was used to being alone, or in the company of Mother. She expected struggle and possibly conflict in the coming days, but was surprised to feel something pleasant as well. It felt good to belong, to be doing something together, even if it was with people that were strange to her. Perhaps Mothers relation to the mentors of these strangers lent her a sense of security - if Mother trusted them, Simbel could, too.

But they were strange to her. The large man, a soldier or priest of sorts, made her wary. She did not like soldiers, or armies, or wars. Those were the darkest evils of civilization, Mother had said, and the stories she had told Simbel about those things had chilled her to the bone. The woman with the red eyes invoked similar feelings in Simbel, but they stemmed from a lack of knowledge of, rather than an opinion on, her vocation. She looked like a lamb, but had the gaze of a wolf. The elvian woman, their supposed leader, Simbel was undecided on. She felt there was more to her than what was visible on the surface, but not in a malignant way. The finely dressed, jittery woman was, as far as Simbel could tell, no threat. Her heart appeared to the young witch to be burdened by fear and indeciciveness. She might even need looking after, once they were in the wild proper.

Simbel yielded a small smile at that thought. She would soon be back where she belonged, far away from chimneys and smoke and streets and walls. The woods awaited her, with their sublime scents and whispering winds. To tread moss again, to climb stock and stone, filled her heart with joy. The wild was truly her home. She looked at the meek woman, meeting her eye. The woods are beautiful at night, she said, hoping to share her joy but knowing how to properly convey it in the tone of her voice, When the full moon shines, and you hear the wolves howling in the dark as they prepare for their hunt. Simbel realized her face had remained expressionless as she spoke, so she quickly added a small smile, although her eyes remained unblinking. Wether it had the effect she had intended, she could not say.

Blackguards!

Looking to post today or tomorrow!

How are you all holding up so far? Are you enjoying the game?

Welcome to Vradia

Looking to post soon, stay tuned!

Blackguards!

Good going so far, friends! Let's keep the pace up, so we can get to the good stuff 🙂

Blackguards!

@An Outsider Sure! Although, I'd like all of you to participate in creating this story, too. Feel free to add in any blancs or details you think I've missed.

The knights are strong, muscular fighters with heavy melee weapons and horned helmets. They wear heavy-ish armor and ride on big destriers. Think Tulsa Dooms riders in Conan the Barbarian.

The wyvern is a giant two-legged winged reptile with a long neck and a barbed tail. The tail drips with a deadly venom. The rider is a fierce warrior, armed with a great haleberd.

Blackguards!

Here comes the welcome party! They consist of a score of knight with heavy weapons and horned helmets, as well as a knight captain armed with a long haleberd astride a wyvern. You're free to play out your interactions as you like; these aren't player characters or important NPCs. If @Rosellangel hasn't responded in a few days, Qal will meet it's end in this encounter.

Let's have a cool action scene! :D

Blackguards!

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H O L G A R T H

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Holgarth was adressed by two people; the strange tall woman and the half-orc man. His eyes narrowed at the womans words. She spoke like a sorceror, not plain but in riddles. He remembered she had also seemed on good terms with the Witch, which did not bode well. Whatever it was she held in her hand looked dangerous, too. He would have to watch it with that one, but decided to answer her as best he could. I do not fully understand your words, he said, But I am no butcher of children. I am a slayer of men and beasts. What are you?

As he finished speaking, the half-orc man took his turn. Holgarth listened to his words intently. He was a scout, and a damned good one at that. There was always the possibility that the man was a fool, but Holgarth decided against this - he had an air of competence and command about him, unlike fools who usually stank of a false sense of self. This man, the Frail, he could be useful, Holgarth decided. He would keep him close, for the time being. Close and alive. Then, suddenly, the man seemed to notice something. A moment later, Holgarth heard it too, faint on the wind. The rumble of hooves. Someone was coming.

He turned and saw movement on the horizon. He couldn't tell their exact number, but they were many. A score or more, from what he could gather. They could be easterling barbarians, in which case Holgarth and the others were lucky. They might be savages, but they were manageable enough and would sometimes agree to duels of honor, in which case Holgarth had no fear of losing or dying. His hopes were quickly dashed, however, as he saw another shadow on the horizon. Trouble was, this shadow was above the horizon, suspended in the air. By now, he was beginning to see the horned helmets of the Sulfreyan knights, too.

Wyverns, he growled, drawing the Underblade from its sheath, Tricky. You, Frail, stay close to me. Take the weapon from the first foe I fell, and watch my back. This will be a hard fight.

Welcome to Vradia

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S i m b e l m y n ë

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Simbel quietly came in through the same window she'd used to exit the inn on the previous night, shifting back to her true shape and landing sitting on the rafters. She dangled her legs, observing her would-be companions below. Some of them were busy rummaging through chests; apparently, their forbears had left them gifts. It didn't take Simbel long to find what she assumed was her chest, adorned with goat. She jumped down from the rafter, sending the serving lady scrambling, and went to her chest. Opening it, she drew a sharp intake of breath.

It was too much. In it lay not only Mothers shillelagh, but her prized Ungolianth-stringed hornbow, too. Simbel picked it up, testing its draw strength. She would hav had a hard time pulling it, had she not been imbued with the power of her patron. Along with the bow came a quiver of obsidian tipped arrows; treasures all. She decided to only use the bow in emergencies, as loosing even a single arrow would be a shame. She had half-expected to find an amulet in the chest, but was relieved there was none to be found. A problem for later, it seemed.

Simbel donned her Mothers possessions - hers now - and rose. She turned to face her companions, and nodded. She was ready to go.

Blackguards!

@Expendable Not really a calendar, or a list of kings for that matter, no. Then again, the Westerlands haven't been united under a king like Tyronde before. If you're thinking that Cian remembers another monarch or ruler from long ago, feel free to make something up!