Known primarily as Klomster, both on the net and on real life.
I really enjoy roleplaying and do so every weak, preferably twice in two different campaigns. Sometimes even more.
From time to time i've done some forum roleplaying with mixed success. I've tried GM-ing with even more mixed success and all in all, i find forum rp's enjoyable. Hence why i joined, hoping to play some forum rp's and OWN at it. (Or something.)
I have an erratic thought pattern so my posts can appear as incoherent, if you notice you can just mention it if i should clarify anything. Other than that, hey there fellas.
@Strange Rodent Cool character, i was constantly trying to figure out reasons why our characters would have met each other while reading, but couldn't really come up with any good ones, so while i have no suggestions, i am open to them.
And so pyromancery. Probably the character my friends would have thought was mine :P
The grand marshall of Kron-nesis is someone my char probably has worked with before. So it makes sense they know each other. Perhaps not on a personal basis, but a professional one.
So sure, i'll go with that. Then i can give a nice arriving description and people can have thoughts and reactions on that.
Now i've worked on my character. It seems our esteemed GM seems to have mostly accepted him as is as well, so there is only one thing left.
Where do i start out? I mentioned in the text he's in Kron-nesis going to Ithell, that can be changed. I'd like to interact with Pox, that could be fun, as well as spook some locals.
It would also be interesting to meet Zakhul and have some magical theory discussions. Or death threats, both are enlightening.
Titles: Archmage of the hollow light communion, Magelord, Mayor of Brellt, Scourge of Camden, vanquisher of the bonewyrm, terror of war, slayer of Darakenes, wraith of fools pass, king of the will'o'wisp.
Age: 98
Race: Human People suspect some sort of half-breed nature, but no proof has ever been found for that case. But it is obvious that humans should not normally have this sort of magic potential.
Training: When it comes to magic, there are few secrets that are not known to Toradeen, with an extensive knowledge of all types of magic and a fantastic skill at many types of magic focusing primarily on pure magic. He has training and is the leading master when it comes to transforming magic energies from one to another, capable of creating a wide range of effects with basically the same type of magical energy. On top of this he was a capable staff fighter, trained by the hollow light communion. While all the basics are things he has had training in, he has also studied and self taught and even invented techniques himself.
Equipment: Carrying a gnarly smooth sturdy ironwood staff and a Shillelagh of magically hardened wood. His robes are heavy wool with many adornments of lighter blue embroideries, he carries a book on his belt and has a dagger on his side. His torso is protected by a plate cuirass which doesn't show much beneath the cloak. He has many necklaces, chains and brooches enchanted with magic that dulls pain and reinvigorates the body.
He rides in a black wagon drawn by grey horses, the lanterns glow brightly blue and leave a trail of light as they move. The wagon has no driver but still moves as it needs to. The wagons storage is loaded with magic grimoires, scrolls, tablets, trinkets, magical materials and items.
Beneath his collarbones, he has implanted two magical orbs. They are said to be fallen astral stars and shine with magical light, they seethe with magical power and can store mana, adding to Toradeens already vast source of mana. However they leak power and they will need to be refilled from time to time. A time consuming but rather simple task. In truth they are simply mana storage matrices built by Toradeen in his younger days, the misconception comes from them becoming known to some after the battle against his equals.
Followers: At his side he has two bound deamons who work as his bodyguards.
Toradeen lured them into a pentagram, overpowered them with magic and enslaved them in suits of armour. Their form is hazy and they smolder with hellfire. Their two handed swords felling embers and their steel-cutting edges also burn the flesh. The hellknights are comparable to elite human swordsmen of various nations in skill, but they carry literal deamon forged armour and weapons, they will only perish if their armour is destroyed. They require no food, no water. They only serve their master. An existence of pure anguish for them. In his dreams Toradeen often must fight their wills, since they constantly try to escape their imprisonment. Taking their chance when they perceive him to be weak. They have not succeeded yet.
A single will'o'wisp seems to live within his robes. Toradeen at times command it simple tasks. It cannot do much but can confuse mortals and attack with weak lightning. It is one of the few things in existence that willingly come near Toradeen.
Spell skills: Grandmaster of magical essence channeling, master elementalist, master astral mage, master enchanter, expert demonologist (focusing on binding and banishing), adept nature mage, novice blood mage, novice necromancer.
Other skills: A great skill at library searching and keeping, high intelligence and situational awareness, monstrous arcane knowledge and a broad knowledge of history and archeology. He also has good geographic knowledge and is a novice cartographer. Unbeknownst to most, he can cook an excellent venison steak.
Drawbacks: With great power comes great responsibility. Haunted past.'His power is legendary, he can slaughter armies, slay dragons, he has no empathy, no soul, a machine of war.' Everyone who has heard the stories fear him, the looming magical might makes everyone uneasy, magical creatures don't trust his vast magical power and his sad angry demeanor even manages to scare off the kind naive children. He is truly alone. Time takes its toll. In his youth he was a fit battlemage of unequaled potential. His physique was similar to the most well trained knight. That was fifty years ago. Magical backfires, rheumatism, constant battle, scars, numerous magical experiments, pulsing mana ebbs within him and the odd migraine leaves him in constant pain. He has trouble moving and uses both his staff and cane to support himself. In truth he is in somewhat good shape for a ninety year old nearing a hundred, but that doesn't mean he is vigorous. The only thing sharp on him is his mind, and surely it is beginning to falter as well. Magic is not the answer. Gone are the days where he solved all his problems with magic. Since magic only creates pain, he chose not to do it. At least that is the case when he does it... Cursed. He never seems to be able to help anyone, the people instinctively revile him and the will'o'wisp is always an omen of doom. While he actually can help people, in his mind it seems to always turn out for the worse. Arcane studies has proven that there is some form of curse upon him, if it is his body or his soul is not certain, but some sort of cosmic law is doubtlessly here to make his life misery.
Affiliation: The hollow light communion. (On poor terms but Toradeen Folgamer is still technically part of the communion.) An communion of mages, focusing on magical studies away from affiliations. They however see the wars of the nations as a great proving ground and many hollow light mages work as mercenaries. The communion has its base in its wizards tower in the northern region of Kron-Nesis.
Personality: A bitter old man, angry outwards but sad inwards. Would lash out more on those around him if it wasn't for the fruitlessness of it all. He is working his darndest to be more than his past, but time and time again it seems the world only wants the scourge, so he falls back in his old boots.
History: Toradeen Folgamer was born to some unknown parents. No one knows who, he was left on a busy street in a town, all alone abandoned because he felt weird. No one dared go near the crying baby, for its presence was dreadful. But fortunes had it that Toradeen Korak walked by, a mage of the hollow light communion, whom recognized the odd sensation of raw power that emanated from the poor baby. He had never felt such a presence, at least not from someone of such a young age. He knew no one else would take the baby so he took it for his own. Cared for him, told him his past, gave him his family name and named him Folgamer. Meaning 'Power', Folgamer was brought up with the singular motive to make as much of the potential he held.
Trained to be strong, fast, intelligent, quick witted and polite, He was to be a tool of war, of income for the communion. Someone who could give demands to other communions, whom could strike down those who would demand from them. Folgamer was an enthusiastic youth, he had a spring in his stride and was thankful for the opportunity the communion was giving him. He would be the most potent weapon, his enemies would fear him, those around him would respect him.
He fought in wars, slew monsters, brought down the necromantically resurrected bones of a dragon, he fought armies and while not alone, he did the most damage.
Eventually he took to the field in blindfolds, just to test himself, none could stop him, he was an avatar of magic! He had now become the perfect tool of war. There was however one who could stop him. Himself.
It was during a battle, he took the field as usual and sundered the foes before him, the village was supposed to have been empty, he ripped the souls from their bodies, used them to channel more magic and death. The small village was now dead, a few had managed to get away, it was how he wanted, he worked hard to let just a select few enemies get away to spread the word about him. To spread his legend. As he walked through the streets however he noticed the corpses, they were not of soldiers, but civilians.
It was there he noticed it. He had succeeded and now he realized the prize of success. He was the most powerful wizard, all feared him. None dared even get close, his allies cowered in fear outside the village, he had slain innocents and soldiers more easily than the wind rustled the leaves above. If there had been leaves, all life energies of the place had been drained to fuel the carnage, the dead showed only terror and agony in their tortured faces revealing the last of their lives. This was Camden, it was no more. Never again would life return.
He realized that when everyone looked at him as he had wandered proudly forth to fight their foes, they did not show appreciation or respect, it was sheer horror, disgust and revulsion. They didn't avoid him out of coy admiration, they were terrified. He had become the terror of war, he thought he would be thrilled when he reached his goal of becoming the most feared mage of all time. This was....
It took a long time before he reached a conclusion on that last question. He slew more, rained fire upon fortresses, shook the walls of cities, snuffed rebellions. More and more it was obvious, only one thing now got near him on its own volition unless they had business with him. A single will'o'wisp. It danced across his fingers, up his arms and around his head. He assumed it fed on the mana that overflowed from him. During the crow war he reached the epiphany. He had done his best, he tried to save the village, blew up scores of infantry, he had won the day. As he approached the townspeople they cowered and hid their young, he wondered why they reacted so, he had saved them. They only replied 'monster'. He called out that he did this to save them, they responded that hollow light did nothing for others, only themselves. He got angry, shouted, he asked for their gratitude, their praise, anything. The mayor of the town then moved up to Folgamer and shouted the following. -"Look around you, the dead litter the streets, dozens of homes destroyed, the druid tells us the source of the water in the well was torn asunder so the well will dry. You want us to thank you? Give you praise? Well hear your reward, you are now mayor of Brellt! We are leaving this accursed place, everything you touch is cursed and so is this land. King of will'o'wisp, the omen of doom." At the end the wisp had exited Toradeen's robe, the people walked away and he knew. He would do this no longer.
It didn't take many weeks before the communion took notice, their mightiest asset would not be lost. Several mages was sent, including Toradeen Korak, to coax him to follow the communions of the hollow light. The plead turned to heated words, heated words to an argument, argument to a fight. Fires is said to have draped the sky, stars rained down to smite those on the ground. It was here he slew his own father along with another and sent the rest packing with wounded limbs and magical scars.
Following this he created his bodyguards, left the communion and began to search anew. He had already found how to be the mightiest warmage, he never wanted that again. Now he sought to solve his questions with magic. Years passed and it seemed he could never find the answer in magic. He began to despair, his body had grown old without him noticing, he had lost his prime, he was a weapon no more. Good....
Currently he is leaving Kron-Nesis to go to Ithell. Since magic seems to grow only pain, perhaps another way is the answer?
I saw this and felt i got a character idea and began to build. It's mostly done thematically but there are things i wonder about. Like how long ago was this purging by the Crow king? And the crucible? How does magic work?
What sort of power level do you expect? Or is it really anything goes? And no, even if i'd like, i'll keep actual gods to god rp's ;)
Jokes aside, character plan was a shit-old archmage type of guy, out to figure out what the purpose of this all is. Since magic didn't give him the answer.
It seems most of the action is in Kron-Nesis, am i expected to pop up with those guys or is it muck about wherever one wants type of deal?
Aftermath of the riots. Following the riots of Nyhem, the Steel fist had captured hundreds of dissidents, if not thousands. It was not his place to keep track, that job he happily left to his logistics officer, Katrina Nikos. Whom had proven to be an invaluable asset to the fist since she joined. Claus himself had retreated to his tent following the work in the final hours of the last night of the riot. He had done as ordered and focused on the districts indicated by the high king and the Steel fist had dealt with the rioters flawlessly. That's what he is gonna write in the report anyway, to be fair there had been flaws, a few in the fist had gotten minor injuries and several of the rioters were badly bruised. Not to mention the guy who was shot in the leg. But in truth, the steel fist hadn't killed a single person during this riot. Something Claus could feel pride about, not a single one...
After all, he wasn't on his post there in the inn, Dyril needed help and Claus was sent not as captain of the steel fist, but as a concerned individual. Sent? Perhaps the gods were at work, who knew. The steel fist hadn't killed anyone, but he... how many were there? Five? He didn't know, he tried to not care, they were just numbers, numbers who tried to kill and maim a friend of his, of course he should've saved her. But they were still dead. It was different with civilians, in the Beilokias he could more easily ward it off with them not being human, they were birdmen or lizards and with soldiers and militia they knew what they were getting into, they had some sort of training. But these guys...
He realised his thoughts had run off again, the dreams with the faces of the thousands of dead that haunted him at night didn't help either. Claus was sitting at his makeshift desk and writing letters, reports and logs to keep the company in order. At first Dyril had welcomed the safe haven the Steel fist camp had offered, but the following morning she had realized that the chilly weather, multitudes of bugs and a bedroll that seemed just a bit too thin was not something she would endure in the long run and had returned to the city and one of its inns as soon it was deemed safe. Too bad Claus had thought, he had hoped to have a proper party to celebrate long time no see, but the sad truth was that now had a buttload off work to do after the war and all. The casualties, the final pays would need to be sent to their families along with condolences and their equipment would need to be evaluated. After that there was the new guys, they needed drilling, since the discipline right now was NOT up to snuff with steel fist expectations. Sure they would form a line and hold it roughly, but they were a troupe of individuals, not a team effort like the steel fist required. And admittedly, some of the drill was for show, it helped when negotiating prizes. Lastly he needed a lot of new gear and to sell off more of the loot. He had claimed a few nice sets of harnesses and weapons from the Mandarass baggage train, nothing amazing, but still several sets of high quality scale mail and a plate armour. Not to mention he probably needed a full new suit of armour himself, the one he got was severely banged up and worsley, it was warped. Guess that's what getting squashed by an elephant does to ya.
Outside the drills were coming along, the new guys realizing the truth about the steel fist. The steel fist was the best mercenary company in the world. Why? Drill. Punishing and exact drill. Not one step out of line, not a single order ignored or done later. The companies renown as drunken idiots was not really deserved considering how serious they were. Several of the new guys quit the first day, many more during the following.
The following morning he moved out, he wore his full suit of armour, whom Katrina and a few others had done their best to look better, he marched with a full fifty people from his vanguard, two of whom carried his blade. Along with Roogel and Katrina on his side. Roogel was also carrying the banner of the Steel fist. A ragged and stitched black banner with the white clenched gauntleted fist on top, with the most heroic deeds of the fist embroidered on its surface. The procession entered the city and moved towards the arena. There were thousands who were flocking to see the event, the arena was packed. Nobility, burghers, it was said even the king was there to witness the event. It was honestly difficult to get there before Claus began to make himself known via horn calls.
The arena was packed, people from all social stratas had gathered and Alasdair was looking down upon the arena from the kings podium, he sort of wanted the whole ordeal done with as he gently rubbed his temple, but in truth he was early. Claus had not even arrived and Alice had barely gotten inside the arena's preparation rooms. Which was fine with him, it had gotten him a lot of time to set up the 'plans' for this combat event. Known only to himself and one other, the water Alice would be offered would be poisoned. Not a strong poison, she would not die. But her judgement and her awareness would be hampered. He momentarily wondered if he'd need to get rid off the man doing the deed later, but his train of thought was interrupted as a chilling horn-call was heard from outside. It repeated itself four times, each time it was closer. The call was deep, it cried war, blood and death. A few who had heard the horn of the steel fist before were reminded of its meaning. Others needed no prior knowledge to be chilled to the bones. After the last call, one of the kings servants snuck up to Alasdair and told him that Claus had arrived. Finally. He stood up and unusually, there was no cheers from the crowd. They had gotten into other thoughts, as Alasdair stood the much more happy and joyous fanfare of the brass horns called everyone's attention and silence befell the arena.
-"People of Nyhem, we gather here today to witness the conflict of old versus new. So without further ado, let us commence!" Alasair used the most imposing 'king voice' he could muster, the clever design of the arena also made it easier for his voice to travel to those who would need to hear it. A cheer was heard from the crowd as two of the arena doors opposite to each other opened to reveal the competitors and their aides. Alice had gathered several imposing soldiers in nice cuirasses and with capes in her heraldic colours, they carried only shields and had their swords in the scabbards, the four of them formed a square behind her as she walked up to her designated spot, the marshall was overseeing the event from the arena floor and instructing the combatants on their positions. From the other side, Claus exited, he took a few steps and raised his horn and called the two tone call for march, out from the door behind him came his entire entourage in formation which was not how anyone expected him to arrive. The marshall was not happy to say the least. With perfectly matching footfalls, the troupe went to their spot and claus stopped the formation with a shouted order. Followed by 'Form wall.' which the troop did with a shout in perfect unison and formed a spear wall behind him. As usual in flawless straight lines.
The arena was silent for a moment before Alasdair motioned for another fanfare. -"Competing for honor today, are the champions seen before you. In the southern field, ser Alice Rallar." A cheer came from the populace, the southern field was the one further from the king, symbolising that she was the one who challenged the one in the north. -"In the northern field, we have captain Claus Rotstein, advisor of war to the crown." Alasdair's last sentence had stirred some murmurs, the changing of advisors of war was still rather new and many had not gotten assurance that that was the way it was. -"Marshall, you have the word." Alasdair happily let the marshall explain the rules, he didn't let it show in his voice though. The marshall's voice was booming and clear. -"Thank you high king. The format for today is a duel to the death, fought between the champions with the arms they best see fit. The champions will now give praise to Timtos, so that the battle will be honourable and fair." With that Alice drew her sword and knelt, Claus however reached his left hand to the back and Katrina nervously strode up to him with a cloth wrapped package. Claus took it by the hilt, nodded to Katrina and with a one-handed swing to the right followed with a flourish he cast the cloth off the sword revealing it as he in one fluid motion knelt as well. The weapon was nothing like most of those present had ever seen, constructed with dragon scales and talons. It's size made it look almost like a caricature more than a sword, but Claus wielded it seemingly without hindrance. This event got an noticeable response from the crowd as gasps, hollers and ooh's were let out. Finally the marshall knelt together with the aides as a priest came and led those present in a prayer to Timtos, god of battle and honour.
As the prayer finished, the aides left the arena leaving only the marshall, Alice and Claus. -"Now we pay respect to the king!" The marshall commanded and those present knelt for king Alasdair, even if Claus was slow to kneel. With that Alasdair waved to the populace and nodded to the champions. He held a striker for a gong for everyone to see, walked to the bronze gong and showed he was ready to strike. Claus and Alice assumed fighting stances and were given a few words. -"Now i will strike you down for your impudence! I will have my honor, you will be.... dead." At the end of her sentence, Alice felt a bit groggy, loosing her focus for a second. She thought of it no longer. -"Impudence? I don't even know what that means! HA! I'll cut you up since you wanted that, good chance to try out my new sword as well!" Claus was grinning broadly as he tried to piss off his opponent. He ended by fastening his visor with its buckle and spinning on the rondel in the back with a flick. There was a brief moment of silence, but seemingly from nowhere the gong sounded and the duel had begun.
Alice did not wait for her opponent, she knew he had range advantage and wanted to get in as soon as possible. Claus held is sword straight up in front of him with both hands, his visor slightly open revealing the focused eyes within. Claus simply let his sword fall, he guided it and made a surprisingly quick thrust towards Alice face, she however realized in time and pushed the sword away with her rapier, she was going for a quick stab at Claus face with her dagger when she realized he was already punching in with the quillon of the sword, the dragon talon looked wickedly sharp and she literally threw herself backwards to avoid it hitting her torso. Even if she wore a reinforced cuirass, she wasn't going to take chances with a strange new weapon like that. Claus renewed his pose and swung the sword above him into a diagonal slice to his right, pursuing her relentlessly. She moved low and aimed for his leg when she once more felt groggy. She stumbled, barely avoided the slash and was pommeled in the side by Claus. Alice fell over and rolled away from Claus, luckily for her Claus was backing off as well. The pommel strike didn't have the proper force that a stronger wielder could have gotten in, it had however dented the cuirass and put in a visible indentation of the dragon snout of the pommel. The truth was that the blade was heavier than Claus was used to, so he had overswung. The force needed to reroute the weight in the large sword was a bit much, so he had gotten in a poor blow... of sorts. It had still dented steel plate. Both of the fighters were now breathing heavily, one because she had been struck in the side, one because his sword was far more unwieldy than his usual weapons.
Alice was now getting worried, she wasn't feeling well, her focus went in and out and she felt groggy and wheezy. The combination of nausea and the pommel strike made her throw up. But unbeknownst to her, the poison had already taken effect, even if she got some of it out now, it was too late. She stood up with a noticeable shakiness to her gait, cheers were all over as she pointed her weapons at Claus once more. -"Nice to see that blow didn't stop you!" Claus shouted at her with a smile, he changed his guard to a half swording stance. He realised that the weight of the sword would not do well against her skill, even if it gave him a reach advantage. For he realized it now, her attack against his leg had hit, luckily the armour had pushed it off safely. She moved in with a flurry of blows, all would have been fatal against a lesser opponent. But Claus managed to dodge parry and block most of them. One had glanced off his shoulder while another struck his arm. The dagger pommel strike to his arm had hurt like a bugger though and he shouted in pain. He leaned in, pushed Alice off him and seemingly swung madly in what looked like someone trying to row a boat. The manoeuvre was less stupid than it looked though as the repeated attacks threatened her from several points of danger, the edge, tip, the quillon and the pommel. She took a step back, began to move to her left when once again her vision blurred. Her movement had slowed and Claus took the chance, with a downward stab with the blade-tip, which hit her in the right leg, it sliced through the armour like a sharp knife through cloth and opened a rather messy wound through her leg with an opening towards between her legs. Claus followed up with a full on pommel strike with all his might, she however countered with a quick thrust from above and both attacks hit home. The force of the pommeling sent her literally flying, half a metre or so. Her strike had however left the rapier stuck in Claus helmet. It swayed ominously up and down. The arena was in uproar, Alice was scrawling on the ground as Claus just stood there for a moment like a statue with a sword in its head. Alasdair stood up trying to get a better look, boos and cheers were rampant as the crowd was in uproar.
Then with a stiff twitching motion, Claus moved his left arm, took Alice rapiers hilt, dragged the sword out of his helmet. With mad cheers from the crowd. The blade had hit his right cheekbone, bounced to the side and sliced his ear slightly, then it had gotten bent to follow the inside of the helmet. As he pulled it out blood flowed visibly as he hurt more of his cheek and ear, booming cheers were rampant as he took a few steps and tossed the sword back to Alice. -"Take the weapon! FIGHT!" Claus voice boomed over the arena, it had more presence than both Alasdair and the Marshall. Alice was beginning to get a hold of herself, took the sword and began to sit up. The blow had pierced her cuirass and hurt her stomach quite badly. But she wouldn't give up, she managed to kneel with the weight on her left leg, resumed her guard with the now bent rapier and shaky hands. -"Good thing i brought the visor, otherwise you'd have put that one in my mouth i reckon." Claus spoke to Alice as he responded with a guard pose as well. -"Anything to shut you up!" Alice spat out as well as she could. Before summoning the best of her power, standing up and charging in on Claus with repeated thrusts and slashes with both sword and dagger. As her onslaught began Claus just began an echoing sinister laugh, her movements were now slow enough so that Claus could read them and easily defend himself. He let her strike his armour several times, every time the blades making a deep score, but with each strike they became weaker and weaker. At one point he headbutted the sword arm of Alice away followed with a hearty punch to the stomach. Something Alice barely could handle and stumbled a few steps backwards holding her wounded stomach with her left arm. It was here Claus changed grip once more, took a step forth and made a massively telegraphed upwards strike. However Alice was too weak to even notice. The strike hit her right armpit, with seemingly no effort the dragon-sword lopped off her arm cleanly at the shoulder, as she noticed her arm was hit she looked at it, and felt the kick on her chest which sent her flying to the ground. She saw Claus stepping over her and with a massive two handed thrust he roared as he struck down with the blade vertically.
The friend. Earlier, as Claus entered the arena doors, he and his entourage was shown the directions where to go by some servants, he was however approached by someone in far nicer clothes whose thin frame and young appearance stood out. -"Mr Rotstein, if you may? I want to speak with you." -"I'm busy." Claus responded without stopping. -"I am Alex of Nyhem, advisor of law, please listen." The young man informed, which had Claus stop for a second. -"What? Am i breaking the law or something?" He ended with a smirk. -"No, but please, listen, you are fighting Alice, i heard it was to the death. Is that so?" Alex was worried and genuine, Claus just responded in his serious tone. -"Yes, she wanted it this way, so she'll get it. Now i have a fight to win, anything else? Or move out of the way." -"Mr Rotstein, you must listen, i... i, want to ask a favor of you." Upon this Claus moved up to Alex and led him off a few steps. -"I am listening." His face in that most sinister look. -"You see, Alice is my friend, i don't want to loose her... but i can do nothing except... well... talk to you. Since i fear things will go bad for her, and i don't think the whole ordeal will be honest, I'm not thinking you will do anything.... but someone... so please... spare her." Alex spoke with true words, Claus had seldom heard more genuine words. Claus pondered shortly before answering. -"We shall see, i'm really tempted to kill her you see. But if i spare her... you owe me." At the end Claus pointed at Alex for a while. Then he left, leaving Alex as worried as before.
The crowd cheered and booed like madmen as they realized the blade had missed her head, it was embedded a good half metre or so into the arena floor. Claus bent down and took her dagger held it up high and walked towards the nearest spectators as he boomed out. -"I have, DISARMED her! So now i spare her life!" He then tossed her dagger up to the spectators so that they could take it. A small fight broke out up there to take it. With this the marshall signaled the duel was over, there was a clear winner, a clear loser and a massively entertaining fight. He realized that the words of Alex held some weight to them. She was good, he had been weary and hadn't got time to recover after the war. She was completely fresh and seeing how she moved, she should have won... But something was amiss. He didn't care though, now he had taught her a lesson and he had earned a favor from that kid back there.
As medical staff hurriedly took Alice off the field and began to treat Claus cheek and ear, the king stood up once more and motioned for a fanfare to prelude his words. -"Thus, we have a winner. Congratulations Claus Rotstein, such a performance. Let us now celebrate!" The crowd was cheering, the mood was unexpectadly good.
The corpsmen of the steel fist now entered the arena and they ran up to Claus who had gotten a chair to sit on and was brought his sword. They gawked at his wounds, messed with each other and Katrina was worried, back to normal so to speak. Back to normal Claus thought with a smile on his face.
Back to normal. The following day, Claus thought it was time, he gathered the steel fist at a certain town square, and stood upon a certain speakers podium. -"Gentlemen of the Steel fist! My friends! We have persevered through a harsh conflict and are now here to claim our prize. I can contain you no longer! You deserve this time to feast, for you drink not only for yourself, but also for the fallen. So i implore you.... STEEL FIST! It seems we failed last time, DRINK THIS TOWN DRY!!!!" A mad cheer erupted as hats, boots and hollers were tossed to the sky as the steel fist began another victory celebration. A few of those present managed an 'Oh no' before corpsmen began to take over all the local pubs. Roogel went up to Claus and asked. -"Was that a wise move? With the riot and all? Not to mention last time..." -"You know i am right, i cannot contain them anymore. They were getting skittish, they've earned this. And it would never be long enough time after the riot." Claus stated, Roogel simply nodded and turned to Claus. -"True true you little idiot. Now, are we gonna show our troops how it's done?" Roogel laughed with a massive grin. -"You know it's time, i know just the right place as well!" Claus smiled as he got this mischievous look on his face. Later Claus, Roogel, Katrina and several from the vanguard entered a fancy restaurant which clearly remembered them from last time. This time they had even less chance to stop them since Claus brought about fifty from the vanguard this time and made sure to buy three bards to have one hell of a party. The butler from last time just left, he perhaps even quit his job right there, or perhaps not, certainly no one from the steel fist Cared.
Once more the steel fist was let loose upon Nyhem.
The feast lasted long into the night, the rain of blood soon turning into a heavy cloud layer of dark sooty thickness. Casting the fortress of Norsal into a blinding darkness, only lit by the still burning granaries, torches and makeshift braziers. The Bloodied feasted upon the dead, drank stolen wine, ale, water and blood.... so much blood. All over the pit fires grilling large hunks of meat was seen, cattle, ratmen, goblins, minotaurs. Every corpse would turn up as food, everything remotely edible was prepared in some way. Large bags, rucksacks or simply things tied together were filled with food. Grilled legs, roasted smoked and boiled ribs.
This had been a good haul, sure he had lost roughly four to five thousand soldiers, about five hundred of which were in the vanguard while slaying barely even half that number. But the effort had been worth it. Standing on the plaza, Kraam had assembled all his forces, sure, only the vanguard itself fit on the plaza itself, standing in strangely orderly neat fashion for minotaurs, other nations would even refer to them as being drilled and standing at attention. On a raised platform, usually used for public displays, Kraam stood and looked upon his arrayed army with pride and glee. Such a force it was. Clad in the pelt of Shansera, the gnoll matriarch who perished on the wall. He had skinned the matriarch with the logic it was the largest unionist he could find, so it was probably the fortress leader, seeing the entire enemy army had routed as she fell. In his hand, he held her heart, then spoke.
-"Bloodied host, we stand in victory, we hold the hearts of our enemies. Now we celebrate with the bloodied toast!" Finishing the sentence he held the heart aloft, as many as possible in the vanguard held a heart aloft, be it from friend or foe, soldier civilian or livestock. -"Drink for the blood lord, drink for ME!" His voice boomed out, the hearts were squeezed and emptied into the mouths of those who held them, after which they happily ate the rest. Those who didn't hold hearts just roared with delight, drank whatever other beverage they could get hold of or just joined the cacophony of roars that followed the bloodied toast.
Streaks of theurgia flowed over the vanguards forms, shamans began to walk among them and gather it, using it to reinforce gear, enchant new weapons or simply storing it.
-"Now, it's time to reinforce the vanguard! STEP FORTH CHOSEN!!" Kraam's voice echoed over the plaza, the fortress and rumbled in the deep. Stepping forth was many minotaurs, chosen by the complex method of Kraam saw them do something impressive in the battle, so he sought them up afterwards and told them they would be chosen. They were ritually given the gear of the vanguard that had been slain, they were cursed by the shamen and made to take the oath of the vanguard. Never falter, never flee, never surrender. They are the core of the Bloodied, and they will damn act like it.
The rest of the night was spent with feasting, eating, making food and sleeping. During the evening a satyx javelineer approached Kraam laying upon a makeshift masters bed from pelts and pillows with two female minotaurs beside him with another female satyx waving a makeshift fan of goblin skin towards him. -"Foe-hammer, may i ask you somethin'?" Without even looking at him, Kraam caressed the mane of one of the females and answered. -"Speak." -"My lord, i earlier saw strange activity by winged creatures, unlike other carrion, they did not land and then disappeared towards the principality." The Satyx said while kneeling. -"So?" The voice of the god-eater betrayed that he was sorely bothered and bit into a plump juicy fruit of some kind, dipped in meat sauce. -"So... it is probably griffon knights, you know the dangerous flying cavalry?" Getting a bit worried, the satyx began to tremble. -"Soo... they know we're here. They usually do. My plan still stands." Kraam now looked at the trembling satyx, before continuing. -"We move out in the morning, set fire to the rest of the fortress. Then we move into Evernyx and move west, looting everything along the way." He finished off the sentence with a grinning smile. -"NOW BEGONE! I order you to feast!" Kraam angrily motioned with his hand towards the satyx, whom jerked, bowed and ran off.
The army of the principality may come, the army of the union is doubtlessly already on their way though.
The following morning the clouds would have been normal if it wasn't for the fact that the upper city of Norsal now burned and caked the sky with soot and smoke. The Bloodied host entered Evernyx, the farmsteads would stand little chance in front of their advance. They marched west along the mountain wall, the wind-pined white mountain tops setting the backdrop for the rumbling march of the host.
The black steel form of the forge god voiced his answer to Markon. -"Should know..." Ha's voice was now more of a slow rumble than the wrothful deity from a moment ago he did not change his posture and kept fiddling with the trinket in his right hand.
-"But as is always the case, mortals never learn. I understand that now, their life-spans so insignificant that our words and laws are being forgotten...." He seemed to think back to another age, where things were different, until turning to finally face the deity behind him.
-"Markon, you mentioned an artifact? What would such a trinket do? Comb your hair, give your appearance an illusion of luster? Or perhaps a weapon?" The forge god looked unusually laid back in his posture, now that the two were alone.
-"You're right about mortals. They don't live long enough and they forget easy. This is why I want something so the whole world will quake and spawn an era where they will worship us like they never had before." Markon said with a level of motivation.
Gazing upon Markon, Ha didn't expect this interest in the mortal realm. -"Wasn't that the reason i got chained to heaven in the last era? For meddling too much in the world of mortals?" Ha straightened his posture and stood up after he had spoken. Gave Markon a good look. He went to his storage drawer and began to check around for things. Considering several things before returning them. An angels feather, scales of a dragon, a hydra spine, a rusty nail. The nail he kept in his hand.
-"You didn't just meddle with the mortals you destroyed whole species. Our fight destroyed whole continents. No not like last time, although I enjoyed it a little we should not go that far. Not yet in the least. This artifact will be different from all your other ones. Respectfully of course. Whoever wields this... treasure will usher a time of worship and bring immense power. Perhaps even uniting most of the world as one in a golden age, but we will not allow them to gain this artifact easily. No. It will be protected and hidden well." He was floating around the room as he spoke and now he was looking up trying to form a picture in his mind.
Markon's words intrigued Ha, he stroked his chin as he tried to come up with things that would suit the elusive gods needs. -"So like a crown of divine rulership? The mortal who wears the crown is decreed to be the one chosen of the gods to rule the lands of the living?" In his head Ha began to design such a magnificent headgear. It would require complex materials of course, but nothing outside of what he could muster himself. Until he realised what Markon had said and asked. -"So why do we give such a potent artifact... for a mortal... to the one who finds it by chance? Shouldn't the chosen ruler be, well, chosen by us?"
-"Interesting. Perhaps, we will make three artifacts. The first one will be used to find all other artifacts with your divinity or any of the gods; a magic map or compass if you will. The next artifact is key because the crown cannot be used properly without it and the crown will not be found without it either. Then after the long journey of finding those two and then the long journey to find the last piece they must get past protectors or even traps of our make. When all is done and they have everything in place they must go through our divine judgement as the last part. Then we can name a king fit to rule as our vassal. Mortals will never disrespect you again Ha!"
With interest not showing, Ha listened to Markon as the great craftsman opened a small box and produced a gem, a platinum stick and some silver. -"Bite this." Ha said without flinching while handing the rusty nail to Markon, he then put the things so far next to his workplace and began to hand drill into the gem-stone. Markon examined the rusty nail first then bit down on it. He passed it back when he was done.
Ha examined the nail, murmured something akin to 'excellent' and sharpened its edge with a strike of Ha-mmer upon the anvil. -"However, since these artifacts will be powerful and you after all have ordered them, i will need something from you." The forge god informed while drilling the gemstone. -"You see, mortals only look up to one thing in the end, the only thing they seek, is divinity. Therefore we will need divinity to fuel the artifacts power and imbue them with the divinity they will look upon, i need you to provide that." The forge god told with a calm but serious voice. As he finished drilling the gem he drilled the centre of the nail. -"While i assume you don't feel like losing a finger or a toe, i still need a sufficient source of divine power." He turned to Markon and began to thread the hole in the nail while looking at Markon. -"I need one of your demigods. That will be enough." Ha sat silent and unmoving for a moment and waited for the answer of the ancient god.
Markon was shocked for a moment. -"I see. Would a tooth, or nail... even a hair work?" He floated around enjoying the moment. "You're right. None of those will work. But now who... Someone loyal."
Then for a moment he was sad. Kathume was his best friend, but he knew only Kathume would never hate him for putting him inside the crown. His creation would be loyal and divine. And thus the dog was instantly teleported to Markons location.
He placed a hand on the old dogs brow. Then he lifted his head high and kissed him. Kathume already felt what was happening due to the link between god and demi-god. "This isnt good bye my friend..."
-"It is decided then." Ha saw that Markon was already preparing the divine being for the task, as such the forge god began to take the divine energy of the hound and form it into a shape. The form of Kathume vanished slowly and something formed in the hands of Ha whom violently shaped the purple energies into a form much smaller than the beast had been. Instead of leaving a corpse, only specks of dust slowly fell like from a breeze upon the floor of the divine forge. A small goblin-esque looking creature with ugly bat-like wings quickly emerged from behind the bellows and collected the dust and put it in a vial, put it next to Ha and vanished into the shadows. Without looking at the little imp, Ha finished his shaping and in his hand was a magnificent reddish purple gem, smoother than possible and with a depth one could stare into for ages.
He carefully put the gem upon a soft pillow upon a shelf with his clawed gauntleted hand. After which he took the silver plate and bent it into shape of a bowl which he set the gem he had drilled from earlier in. -"I will begin crafting the crown shortly, i will however need to get a few other resources but the most important one is now provided." While talking he screwed on the rusty nail upon the platinum rod, poured a liquid from a porcelain pitcher into the silver bowl followed by blowing upon the surface with an outstretched palm gesture, seemingly blowing something from the palm unto the surface of the clear liquid. The surface hardened into clear crystal, the nail within began to spin with sudden jerks with the tip of it pointing in all manners of directions. He held it outstretched towards Markon. -"This compass will point towards the nearest artifact, more potent artifacts will draw its attention before weaker ones." The compass was in a sense ugly, but held a certain charm. What was obvious however was that it worked, the point jumping between different artifacts present before stopping violently pointing towards the gem of Kathume.
Known primarily as Klomster, both on the net and on real life.
I really enjoy roleplaying and do so every weak, preferably twice in two different campaigns. Sometimes even more.
From time to time i've done some forum roleplaying with mixed success. I've tried GM-ing with even more mixed success and all in all, i find forum rp's enjoyable. Hence why i joined, hoping to play some forum rp's and OWN at it. (Or something.)
I have an erratic thought pattern so my posts can appear as incoherent, if you notice you can just mention it if i should clarify anything.
Other than that, hey there fellas.
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;">Known primarily as Klomster, both on the net and on real life.<br><br>I really enjoy roleplaying and do so every weak, preferably twice in two different campaigns. Sometimes even more.<br><br>From time to time i've done some forum roleplaying with mixed success. I've tried GM-ing with even more mixed success and all in all, i find forum rp's enjoyable. Hence why i joined, hoping to play some forum rp's and OWN at it. (Or something.)<br><br>I have an erratic thought pattern so my posts can appear as incoherent, if you notice you can just mention it if i should clarify anything.<br>Other than that, hey there fellas.</div>
