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May the Father of Battle Guide My Path to Glory!

Posted: Tue Nov 06, 2007 7:44 pm
by Beyondthebreach
This is intended to be a first person account of our C&C campaign thus far . . .

My character is a Dwarf Cleric/Fighter of Clanggedin Silverbeard and this is the tale from his perspective.

Of course, this campaign was begun in January 2007, so my memory of events may be a little shaky . . . and my notes were not always perfect. Still, it is intended to be an exercise in "creatively" presenting the campaign and it is more or less true . . . as Dwarven narratives go . . .
I've been meaning to get started for many months now, so I figured it is best to finally get something posted and go from there . . .

Posted: Tue Nov 06, 2007 7:45 pm
by Beyondthebreach
I do not believe I will ever grow accustomed to the stench of the surface world. It is a vast and endless swamp that reeks of decay, assaulting my senses from the moment that I stepped out of the deep vaulted caverns of my ancestors. Each step down the cold mountainside towards the lowlands brought ever greater odors of filth and rot. As I walked my ironshod boots pressed down into a yielding surface of composted vegetable matter leaves, they are called, and they swarm upon the dirt like cave rats upon a battle field. Everywhere there is death and dying branches and yellowed grass, fallen trees and the carcasses of half decayed animals. Even the dirt itself has no purity it is infested with all manner of insects and creatures which seem to prey upon each other and writhe beneath my feet.

I could relate more . . . I could tell of stagnant pools of water so overcome with death and parasites that they could not be safely touched, let alone drank from. I could tell of villages teeming with mud and excrement of animals that were cleaner than the people who tended them. The very houses are made of rotted wood as if wood could last against the march of years! But I will speak no more of such things the surface world is where I have chosen to venture and I will accept its many woes. My thoughts will always remain at peace with the memories of my dwarven homelands. The deep and powerful caverns beneath the earth, the hard and unyielding touch of rock beneath my feet and above my head. The smells of stone and metal of forges and fire!

From my Dwarven homelands I headed south towards whatever desination my path would lead. Along the way I had gathered some information indicating a large, surface city named Modron and that seemed as promising a place to start as any. My eyes were ever vigilant for the prospects of wealth and combat, but the folk I passed were not on the path to glory. They were peasants mostly caught up in the wretchedness of their own existence too weak to even defend their families from a single kobold raider. And there were others merchants, traders, craftsmen and artisans while those who seemed hardy enough to manage a weapon were invariably dull and uninspired soldiers . . . or bodyguards to some useless nobles whim. Even the dwarves I spied had fallen far from their heritage laboring amongst the humans as armorers and barkeeps!

When, at last, my steps approached within miles of this city called Modron, I finally caught sight of one much different from the common folk I had grown so accustomed to. He was huge a behemoth of a man and obviously warrior-born. As strong as an ogre he appeared and near as ugly as one too! Involuntarily, my lips grew taught in a sneer of contempt over teeth clenched in mounting rage. Orc! I thought . . . but, no, this one seemed slightly more human-like than that walking filth. Id heard tales of wicked crossbreeds a foul mixture of orc and human born of One-eyes creatures horrid taint that enabled them to mate with near anything that walked on two legs . . . and sometimes four! Invoking Clanggedins name I searched for evil in this beast, but found not its touch nor was there goodness in its heart either. He seemed to be naught but a creature of impulse and unpredictability lacking the true discipline of a warrior . . . but still . . . that six foot blade of steel could like as not sends hordes of foes to a limbless grave. On this one, I fixed my an appraising eye . . . perhaps.

In the distance, the walls of the city grew more distinct and the road leading to it increasingly crowded. Keeping the Orc-Human in sight I continued to survey the encroaching masses and it was not long before I took note of two female elves. They were walking somewhat near each other and both cast inquisitive glances as if to ascertain the business that each had in these human lands. One of them was clad in the greens and greys of the forests that plagued the surface world. She seemed a warrior and was armed and armored as such, but there was a look of uneasiness to her as well a slight discomfort with city and people that swelled so close. It was a look I knew well for I likely worn it plain upon my own silver-bearded face!

The other one ah, she appeared at ease. Quick and confident and fully prepared to take what she wanted. I knew her kind well clad in leather to minimize the burden of armor and help keep her footfall as quite as a night creature. All at once, her look was upon me and I knew I had been sighted and evaluated, even as I had done to her.

I smiled. When I saw the flash of red I was hardly surprised. A human garbed in robes of flame. His casual step and bearing betrayed his lack of martial skill, yet I could sense that he believed the secrets of true power were his for the taking.

I closed my eyes and clutched my axe handle. Letting out a long sigh, I whispered to myself. Ah, Clanggedin! What path have you set before me? I can see it now, but it is a demanding task to set upon my shoulders! Wizards, Elves and some manner of Orc-thing? But . . . there is strength in diversity and I sense my glory will lie upon this road . . . and the bodies of my foes shall pile high at my feet!

The Companions

Posted: Fri Nov 09, 2007 11:07 am
by Beyondthebreach
It is an extremely unsettling choice to trust your life to that of strangers . . . yet here I was, sitting down to stout ale and red meat at an establishment called the Inn of the Drawn Sword. I warily drank from my tankard and muttered disapprovingly to myself. Mayhap, I should have chosen more wisely when deciding on companions with whom I cast my stone? Not a one of them divined to my magic any sense of order or discipline, yet at least there was no malevolence in their spirit. And, if the truth were admitted, they did seem eager and ready to seek victory and treasure and brave enough not to flee at the first sight of adversity . . . well, most of them did anyway.

That wizard Aysen the Red he called himself if the fighting lines fell he would likely cast some magic trickery and make his escape, but what else could be expected of an arcane practitioner such as he? If his self-entitled name the Red was any indication, he would likely scorch a few foes with burning fire before falling back to cast darts or daggers . . . or whatever small pointy object he thought he could manage.

The sly elf Meryn is her name at least she seemed capable of wielding a blade in combat, albeit from the shadows. Despite her delicate Elfin features and fragile frame, I suspected there was a wiry strength within her body and a viciousness in her thoughts. Of her courage, I could not be certain as I knew her kind to be only as brave as the imminent prospect of treasure. Still, her skills would undoubtedly be needed and a great boon to keep us safe from whatever devious devices we would be likely to encounter.

Of the other elf: She was silent as the trees she called her home. The city here seemed not at all to her liking and her unease at being away from the open sky appeared greater than my own discomfort at having to walk beneath those same stars! Yet, I had heard tales of her kind as well and knew her hatred of the humanoid despoilers was near as great as my own ancient dwarven grudges.

And then there was Otug . . . the Uncaring. A massive beast of a creature that I now was even more certain in calling a half-human/half-orc. He towered over us all, indeed, he would stand above most people that he met. A massive sword was strapped upon his back and an equally dangerous looking flail he kept tied there as well. He spoke but little, however, in his few words I could sense a surprising keenness and clarity of thought. No dumb brute was he apparently he had acquired the bestial nature in his body, but the humans capacity for knowledge in his brain. Still, my instincts raged at me to kill it that it was naught but a vile monstrosity upon the land a walking reminder of the foulness that Orcs bestow on all they touch . . Yet I stayed my axe hand and trusted my insight to choose the right path. This Otug had come together with the rest of my new fellows perhaps Clanggedin had provided a difficult destiny that was unclear to me as yet. And the half-orc had a rage within him a great fury that seemed to boil beneath the surface . . . and I was curious to see on whom that rage would vent itself!

Their names were all simple to my ears, but that is the way of the surface folk. I must admit that my ire was greatly stirred by the casual way they disregarded my own title: Tholo Grundin, Battlechanter of Clanggeddin Silverbeard. I stopped short of adding my lineage to ears that showed no respect for Dwarven Heritage indeed, it seemed that I was to be called simply Tholo by this lot. The coming days would surely test my restraint.

And so . . . the conversation turned to what we all were seeking. Adventure! Glory and treasure and power as well! Casual conversation with the innkeeper one surface dwarf by the name of Recky Redletter gave us a clue that there were some ruins not two days march from here. Ruins that, it seems, had been recently sought out by a group such as ourselves.

Preparations were made amongst the group rooms were rented for the night, hearty meals were consumed and in the morning we sought what food and supplies we might need. None of us had much gold to spend, so by foot we elected to travel a choice that I greatly preferred!
- Tholo Grundin Battlechanter of Clanggedin Silverbeard; son of Thavenar Rock-Hand and Emeralun Grundin, daughter of Braclun Grundin, Warlord of the Battlechanters; son of Nolothan Grundin the Granite-Hearted and Thaladrin Grundin the Walking Death, Founder of the Battlechanters.