I am gearing up to start my Known Realms Campaign next weekend. While I don't have the campaign setting quite yet, I think the previews and what the authors have posted in addition to the DCC adventures themselves is enough to get started with.
I have a number of house rules that I'm using with this campaign, mainly because we've had a bad run of total party kills in the past. If anyone is interested I'll posts my house rules document for download.
In the mean time I will start posting the material I am getting from my players and how I am weaving their stories into the Known Realms and the DCC adventures.
I have chosen the first two adventures, but plan on just dropping hints and plot hooks for the other adventures and letting them decide what direction they will take. I will be running Bloody Jack's Gold at some point because of one character's background story.
Adventure I: Into the Wilds
Adventure II: The Mysterious Tower
So far my character roster looks like this:
Human (The Barrier Isles), Fighter/Rogue (1st level multiclass rules from the DMG)
Human (Crieste) Fighter and agent of the Sable Knights.
Human (Crieste) Wizard working for the Royal Academy of Magic and trying to join the Ordo Arcana.
Cleric (unsure of race and background)
I don't have names yet, so I will refer to their classes for now.
Into the Wilds
The Fighter/Rogue is traveling to Wildsgate to investigate the rumor that a notorious thief may have hidden valuable treasure in some ruins near there. Ever on the hunt for treasure, this pirate...err. sailor is eager to see if the rumors are true.
The Agent of the Sable Knights is traveling to the area to help put an end to the curse that has plagued the family there for a hundred years. He is also to investigate Captain Argun and the Lady Aborn, for there are rumors that the two have become lovers and that both of them have eyes on the important baronial seat of Wildsgate. Captain Argun, being an ex-member of the Sable Knights seems a likely candidate for such an action. It is widely known that while the young Baron Kaldal supports the young King of Crieste, that his half-sister the Lady Aborn supports the nobles and the Imperial Army. The agent's primary mission is to lift the curse and to secretly aid the baron.
The wizard of the Royal Academy is investigating a book that is missing from the Royal Library of Magical Research. A copy of this book is believed to belong to the scrivener of Wildsgate, a very old elf named Navost. The tome contains references to an old wizard that was obsessed with force spells and is rumored to have encased his tower in a magical force field to keep out the rest of the world while he studied magic. This tome will point the party directly to the "Mysterious Tower".
I don't have any background information on the cleric yet.
I will be posting some material that my players wrote for their characters in the next couple of threads.
Ren
Last edited by Renshai on Sat Sep 30, 2006 8:15 am, edited 2 times in total.
Discuss your family. Are they still alive? What are their names and what do they do?
“That is a good question. I don’t know. The last time I saw me mum. She was banging her bum on the end of the gang plank. She went on ta make an incredibly healthy splash I must say. Is she aliiive? I suppose et’s possible. I heard she always was good with her tongue and perhaps those wiggling grey fins were just there to bask in her great oratory.
My father? Now that is a difficult kwesh… quest…question. You see she narrowed it down to a few likely candy…candu.. candid.dates. Well. It was either Blowhole Billy, called that because of a wonderful oozing hole left in his head for months, after taking a spear in the top of ‘is noggin; or it could of been Captain ‘The Pike’ Pembrey. Nasty fella likes to decorate his deck with the dripping skulls of the recently departed. Or, it could of been Bartleby Cornwall. A rather non interesting fellow if you ask me. I don’t know how he ever even got the nerve to even ‘visit’ me mum. You see she never could narrow it down more than those three, basing of course on the time of my oneder.. wanderoos… wonderous arrival. Now if you will excuse me I have some unfinished bisy… bizee. BIZnus with that scantily clad scrumptious morsel over there...hic”
Where are you from and why did you leave?
“Where am I from? That is as silly a question as I have ever heard. The SEA, man! The life of a pirate, er sailor is entirely and directly correlated to the length of his occasion at sea. I suppose you mean earlier on though. Well I suppose in my youth you could say I was raised in Port Dagger. Yes. That’s in the Barrier Isles. Have you even ever ‘been’ to sea? Well. It’s a dandy town if I ever saw one. The town is built on a sharp ‘dagger-like’ peninsula… That’s a portion of land nearly surrounded by water and connected with a larger body by an isthmus. That’s… never mind lad.
There is a keep at the head of the peninsula and a decent wall surrounding the town. These fantastic docks drape down from the walls to the water below. Its looks something like a spider. Thus, the name Spiderkeep. Very tight ship, that town. Anyway. Yes I grew up there with me mum, Gods rest her heart. Soul? Dear boy, you never met me mum. As I was saying. Until the age of about five I ran the streets of Port Dagger. No not ran literally you simp. I meant I ran around upon the streets. Quit interrupting me or I will perforate you where you had not intention of having a piercing. Perforate! Put a bloody hole in you, you vomitous weasel. Now shut up and buy me another beer while the story is good and you are still alive.
What? Why did I leave? Well. Every man comes to a juncture.. sigh.. A POINT IN TIME, one made critical by a concurrence of circumstances. Man, have you ever ‘read’ a book? Well. Don’t bother. Everyone reaches a point where they have to make critical decisions. Yes. You might yet some day have to think beyond that proboscis you have there.
Anyway. You see me and a group of acquaintances… sigh… mates, found a map, a very old map. That map bore the mark of none other that Bloody Jack, himself. I see you have heard of someone other than the twenty people you know now. Yes, that’s very nice. Well. So some three years ago we set off to follow this wondrous depiction to where it may lead. After three months of searching we found an island, not on any mariner’s charts. Surrounded by jagged, teeth-like rocks. So jagged they would tear the ship asunder… Don’t slow me down boy. I am in a rhythm. Would tear the ship asunder if we even brushed up against them. We sailed around for days looking for a place to anchor but, on the third day we found that at low tide a shallow opening appeared in the rocks. We had to set anchor a good ways off shore and take the long boats into gaping maw of rock, the wind and waves daring at any moment to thrash us unto our deaths. We made it alright, though we may have been better off as fish food.
Inside the cave we found a cove in a spacious cavern and the remains of dockings and ladders. It seems we had either come to the right place or we had found something just as interesting as we had wanted to, to begin with. However, we soon found that we were indeed on the right track. The map mentioned a symbol of flesh and bone. The map showed a very crude representation of what we actually saw BUT, the key point is that it WAS the symbol. Some poor buggers had been flayed and spread out on a ships wheel, one inverted. Yes that means upside, down. About them, were tied iron shod staves and some very large animals teeth. Overall it was quite stunning if you can appreciate the time it took to put together. Well. For two days we tried to follow that map. We got lost more times that I would want to admit, were I not il-sober. And oh, yeees we lost a few men. The inhabitants of that island were, how would we put it, none too happy to have visitors. But being the humongous beasts that they were, we were not in a position to refute their claim to territory. I mean we didn’t even have a flag. (an Eddie Izzard joke)
Finally after loosing half our number to the cretinous lizards that sought us as breakfast, lunch and dinner, we reached what the map described as the resting place of the treasure of Bloody Jack. No you dolt. Not all of it. Just the part he had surmised to leave at this one location. And wisely I might add, considering the tenaciousness of the local carnivores. Eight of us entered that old temple. Eight brave souls I called mates. Only two of us came out alive. Another beer here boy. Yes, two of us. The wicked traps and creatures worse than what we had faced outside whittled down our numbers like shaving a bar of soap. Don’t tell me you don’t… No. No. I believe you. My olfactory senses confirm as much.
Well. We had stuck into the heart of the temple and after much death and near death experiences we found the horde. I must say it was more beautiful than I had imagined. Gold coin. Gems. A plethora of golden objects and pieces of art. And my dear mistress here. A beauty isn’t she. Elven make you know. No. Well take my word for it. As keen and sharp as a razor. I had to convince some of my unruly mates that she was mine and mine alone. A little knuckle knocking between mates is a trivial thing. No don’t touch it you daft, unless you want to be picking up those grubbies from the floor.
Yes I also got some gold. We each had brought a pack for just that purpose. The five of us left that what found the treasure filled our bags full, and let me tell you there was much more to come back for. And we intended to once we were back at the ship. Intended is the key word here. On the way back out, poor Otis just had to play with that damn door. I told him anything with bas like that… ‘carvings’…anything with bas like that should not be handled by anyone with out some sort of certificate or honorary stating such ability or merit for controlling or mastering such implicated creatures. Well. Otis looked at me with that same look you are giving me now and the brute opened the door anyway.
What happened? Dear man. I can’t even begin to describe. What ever it was, it tore Otis apart as if taking a sickle to a sack of wheat. And as far as big men go, Otis was huge. The Sea keep him safe. It did not take any more convincing before the other four of us ran and ran fast. I heard Tomas get taken by the beast. Like they say, you don’t have to be faster that that Tarrasque… chuckle…ahem… The Sea keep him safe. Broken Butt Berry had it worse I think. He forgot his footing and was caught up in one of the nasty snares that had gotten another of me mates on the way in. I could hear his screams and the growls of the beast still as Kort and I burst out of the temple. Much to our dismay, once we made it back to the hidden cove, in dash time I might add, we discovered that somewhere along the way, perhaps even while still in the temple our packs had been torn open. All that remained was a handful of gold, my sword and the dagger that Kort found. Frankly I came out on the top end of that deal.
We rowed back to the ship and the two of us managed to sail it back to civilization. Why didn’t we go back for more? Man. I wouldn’t go back to that island if Princess Kiera danced the Shurgat for me, naked even, on Harvesttide.
And hear I sit today. What? How did I get here from The Barrier Isles? Well. You see it takes a lot of coin to secure a ship and fund such an expedition. A certain money-lender whose name I will not mention would be looking for his share of the treasure or the return of his ship and a ludicrous return on his investment. We did what any two men in the same situation would do. We kept the ship, changed its name, found a port and took on a crew of privateers looking for an erstwhile enterprise. Yes. I was a ships captain for a time and a damn good one. Well at least until a larger ship of more experience privateers came upon us. I did what any good captain would do. I secured my belongings and took my dingy off the back. The men were better off with a ship of their own anyway. I am sure Kort was looking to take over anyway.
Well. After that, the mainland seemed to be as good as any a place to be. The river ships are not as large or powerful mind you as a seafaring vessel but a man must make a living.
Explain your background skills and how you used them and where you learned them.
“Haven’t you been listening man? I am a pir… er, a sailor.”
Where did you train to get your chosen class, skills, and feats?
“Well. As you might guess growing up on the streets of Port Dagger tends to make for what you might say, inventive entrepreneurs. And well the life at sea is full of peril. A man has to learn fast and be quick to stay alive. The sea is full of pirates and other dangers. My speech? Well the first captain I had, Three-armed Trent. It’s because of his, well his; well I only heard the stories anyway.
He was quite the educated brigand. A former knight in some mainland city I hear. It seems he had some falling out on the mainland and discovered the sea. He never could leave her after that. Anyway. He taught me how to read and write. He as well taught me quite a bit about fighting and sailing. More of a father than I had ever had. Sea keep him safe. I hear his ship was taken down by a bounty ship several years back. Dangerous life, the sea.”
Do you have any enemies?
“Me? I can’t think of a single soul that would want to harm a hair on my head. The model of civility and goodness I am.”
What are your goals?
“Goals? What does any man want? A beautiful woman in his bed, or in my case, several. If you get my drift. A chest full of gold. Which I have had if you don’t recall. A ship at his feet and the wind in his sails. My gods. Why would a man ask for more?”
Character Background authored by: James Simon
Last edited by Renshai on Tue Oct 03, 2006 11:21 pm, edited 2 times in total.
Now now, I can see that look in your eyes. No I’m not here to pick your pocket. Nor am I interested in that hag of a wife you are toting along with you.
Your daughter on the other hand…no no nooo, I jest
I can see you thinking “dirty Pikey”, “lazy Rom” or “shiftless Gypsy” as you clutch your purse and your women a little tighter.
But relax, I am not here for either. I merely want to tell your fortune, to show you your future. A couple of coin for some guidance is a fair deal, no?
Wait! Come back. This is no gypsy trick! I have the true sight!
No, have a seat, let me give you a bit of a sample, tell you a little more about Milos, put you at your ease. Your coin is appreciated, but the gift chooses who it reveals itself for and it has told me that you have a message you must hear.
There, that’s better. Let me lay the cards out…
Ah yes! They are attuned to you already.
This one here, it tell me that you have just the one child. Such a small family for you. Not Milos. Nine brothers, yes! Only eight sisters, however. Pasha and Nadya stayed busy, no? And very warm. Big family, I tell you. Hell, most everyone in the caravan is related somehow. Why do you think we chase the wives and daughters of the townsfolk when we stop? And blondes….why do you think we love your blonde daughters? Then we know it’s not our own blood.
Hmm, dark hair on your little one….and that nose…how old? 13? No, she’s not one of mine, but maybe your wife had some fun when the gypsys came to town, eh?
Sir, sit down, I jest…no self-respecting Rom would lay with your hag.
Where was I? Oh yes….big families. I quit counting the nephews and nieces when they topped 50. Youngest of the brood I am. Pasha, he was quite virile, but I was the last of his good seed it seems. Or maybe finally Nadya said enough. Either way, last born I was, bottom of the food chain, last in line, low man on the….
Yeah, anyways. Life was tough in the _____________ woods. Brigands have about as much respect for the gypsys that you do. They think they can take what they want. Maybe Pasha and Nadya were trying to raise an army, not a family. We made what living we could, traveling to all the dirty little things that pass for towns there. At least there was no law to hassle us there. Some of us danced, some of us sang, I told fortunes.
Funny thing was, I REALLY told fortunes. My sister, Esmerelda did a big show, all glitz and glamour, but I actually had the sight!
Thank goodness for it, I got to eat before Brane AND Nodil because of it.
But we were talking about you, weren’t we?
Another card, see….
Death, oh..hmm..
apparently not yours. How's your mum's health? Well, it might be time to go pay her a visit, while she's still above ground. I guess not everyone's parents can live to see 100. Pasha, Nadya, that's right, still travelling, peddling their shows, seeing the _____Woods, one hovel at a time. Obout half of my siblings have moved on. Oh, oh no...don't be silly - not dead, just moved on. It seems there's three mindsets in our family. Those that feel obligated to stay and take care of those what gave us life, those what leave to take some pressure off of the family - one less mouth to feed and all - and those of us what feel there's something more out there or maybe that have a higher purpiose. I guess you could say I'm the latter of those.
Oh, another bad card for you. See that one sir? You have an enemy. A determined one. Maybe he's going to kill your mum. No, I DON'T think that's funny, I was laughing at a joke someone told me earlier...
I wouldn't really know about enemies...sure there's probably a father or two who's upset about the deflowering of his daughter, and probably a few pretty lasses out there with my bastard sons....but enemies? Who could hate me?
Young lady, please put that book down - Sir can't you control your daughter?
That book? oh, it's just my correspondence course.That's right, I'm an educated dirty Gypsy. Draethons Wizard by Correspondence School. Dn't look at me like that, it's perfectly reputable.
Told you I had a gift.
Ah, finally, see THAT card? It shows you are driven, motivated. I see it often when I check my own fortunes.Oh, and that one......driven by wealth. Maybe we aren't so different, you and I, eh?
But money alone is not enough for Milos, no sir. To prove them wrong, to break the stereotype, to answer the gift, to feel more of this arcane power coursing through me....yes...that motivates Milos quite a bit.
What?
Your wife's ring? I don't recall her wearing one...maybe it slipped off such a delicate finger as hers....maybe that guard there has seen it. Let's go ask him together...let me just pick up my cards, I'll be right...behind...you....
Last edited by Renshai on Fri Oct 13, 2006 6:47 am, edited 1 time in total.
Karlitch held his hands close to the fire, letting feeling come back into his fingers. He was often-called a ‘corn fed country boy’ for his height and heavy build; despite that, he rather wished that he had been less a country boy and more a city slicker. Karlitch had been hard on the trail for days, and the sudden turn of the weather left him in a foul and miserable mood – a mood rife with introspection and speculation. The farmer-turned-soldier was beginning to realize that he was in well over his head with intrigue, and the infinite possibilities intrigue generated did not sit well with his farm-bred virtues.
The brisk autumn weather had turned rainy and miserable, and rain pelted down through the trees. What little shelter the trees provided, well off the main road north, served as Karlitch’s small camp. He had spread his heavy canvas wide beneath the boughs of several trees, and it served to shelter him, his horse, and his dog. Beneath the wide-spread canvas, Karlitch had made a comfortable shelter that was out-of-sight from most angles of view, though the farmer – soldier, he mentally corrected himself – kept stealing glances out through the trees.
When his fingers finally responded well enough to function, he went back to his horse Goodhoof, and began taking care of the mount. As the saddlebags came off, and then the saddle which would serve as Karlitch’s pillow, the area under the canvas began feeling less like the wilderness and more like a comfortable night’s rest for his weary spirits.
Karlitch checked the horse over, and began a quick comb and curry; his fingers and arms knew their business almost better than he, and while he worked at making the camp comfortable in the fast-fading light, he absently listened to the rain on the tarp, and thought back through the years.
Karlitch was the eldest of five living children by his parents, Joyce Padronsdotter and Eldron Karlson. Karlitch had been named for his grandfather, or so he had been told. The sum total of all his family in the world was his siblings and his mother. A brief flare of hope lit deep within Karlitch’s soul, and the soldier quickly put it out. His father was dead… even though his body had never returned to the family farm.
The young soldier shooed the thought away like it was a fly, and checked the hoofs of his horse, after glancing once again out into the rain-pattered forest. Eldron had been awarded a farm near the castle High Cross, and had retired to the farm out of his service to Captain Raelm. The old soldier had been one of the captains-of-the-watch out of High Cross, whose duties were to protect two of the royal highways and the salty Blade Reach waters. Captain Raelm had known Karlitch’s father quite well, back before the farm.
Even after settling the farm in ‘retirement’ with his new wife, Joyce, Eldron had been an active member of the watch in High Cross. Karlitch had been but three when his parents had moved to High Cross from Archbridge, and did not remember the city at all. His youth was filled with hard memories of learning to work the farm, hired help, help from Captain Raelm and the occasional outrider under punishment detail. Fen’s Reach -- as Eldron had named the farm -- had been abandoned for some time before Captain Raelm had put in a good word to the earl of High Cross. Karlitch often wondered what kind of service Captain Raelm and his father had had together, for his memories of the stories the two would tell around the hearth were, in retrospect, deeply sanitized for the presence of Eldron’s family.
When Karlitch and his brothers were older, they began to take their father’s long absences with Captain Raelm in stride, and work the farm in earnest. A particularly bad winter when Karlitch was ten had left everyone hungry; Karlitch had determined to work the farm even harder, to get everything that could be gotten out of it, to never see his little brothers and sisters going hungry again.
Karlitch set some grain out for the horse, and tied Goodhoof to a long lead rope. Though the ground was getting muddy and his breath fogged in the air, there was still plenty of forage for Goodhoof on the forest floor. Karlitch fed his bitch Shindra some sausage to keep her appeased, and then set about making his own scant dinner. The wind in the trees blustered, and a harder rain began to fall through the forest, battering at the canvas’ top. Karlitch checked the ties absently, and then returned to his meal of onions, cheese, apples, and sausage, with some watered wine to go with it.
Eldron’s eldest remembered back to when he was twelve, two years after the bad winter. His mother had been making dinner, while Karlitch and his brothers were working the farm, when a rider had come down the road to Fen’s Reach. The rider had been covered in road dust, and he and his mount were sweaty from the summer’s heat, and a long day’s travel.
As Karlitch had walked towards the rider, the boy farmer could see hardness in the rider’s blue eyes, and a hint of something else. Resignation, perhaps?
Karlitch called out to his mother, “Ma! Rider here to see you!”
One of Karlitch’s younger sisters, only a few years into walking, had come out, holding fast to her ma’s skirts. A rider being so rare since Captain Raelm’s passing during the cold winter past, nearly everyone on the farm came to see the rider, hired hands and children alike.
The rider did not even bother to dismount his horse. He merely asked, “Are you Joyce Eldronswife?”
Karlitch’s mother had nodded, her tone brisk. “Come. We’ve food and drink, and your horse could use a rest. Karl, see to the man’s mount.”
Karlitch had stepped forward, but the rider shook his head. “No need. I bring only news. Your husband, Eldron Karlson, lies dead. The earl of High Cross sends his regards for your loss.”
Joyce’s eyes went wide, her pupils dilating to take in the scene, but her voice was strong and firm. “How? When? Where, even?”
The rider’s mount was tired, and heaved sighs, its head resting low. The nameless rider jerked on the reigns, bringing the horse’s head back up. “I know not. This was all I told. Your husband Eldron is dead. The earl says that you may keep his lands. I’m to tell the magistrate, now.”
The rider had yanked on the reigns, turning the tired horse around, and spurred his mount away from the farm.
Karlitch and his next sibling, his brother Jon, had exchanged a look. Together, all of the children converged on their mother. The hired hands had stood nearby, looking confused, before joining in the circle of bereavement about Joyce.
The eldest of the hands, an older man named Virco, had moved to shepherd the family inside as Joyce’s wail of sorrow and loss washed over him. Karlitch’s family had begun to cry, together.
Thunder rumbled overhead, and Karl shook his head, clearing it of the buzzing fly of memory, again. Shindra gnawed contentedly on a strip of rawhide, one of the several toys Karl kept for her.
It had been five years since his father’s passing. He likely never would forgive the rider for the brusque message, nor for the lack of details. Despite Joyce’s attempts to find out more, details were scant. Karl had no grave to visit, and he and Jon had begun to suspect there was no grave to visit.
A chance-overheard conversation in the castle, when they were there with a wagon-load of food for the kitchens, had led Jon to work things out.
All the land knew that there was bad blood between the Imperial Army and the Knights of the Sable March. The Summer Palace of Archbridge served as the headquarters for both, and when the boy-emperor was in the Summer Palace, tensions were quite high in the city. The Royal Vizier was actually running the empire for the emperor, until he was of an age to truly make his own decisions, and the Imperial Army was wholly loyal to him, composed as it was of noblemen and honored soldiers.
Both of Eldron’s eldest sons had always thought their father retired from the soldier’s life, serving as an advisor or scribe; he had his letters, and had made sure his wife and children had theirs as well. He had even done a bit of merchant’s work, on occasion, moving large caravans along the royal highways and acting as their liaison for the guards of the caravans.
Jon and Karlitch both had dreamed that their father had served in the Order of the Sable March when he was younger, opposing the Imperial Army and making the empire safe for the coming of the boy-emperor.
Jon had overheard talk that their father had been a paladin in service to Captain Sentri – the Knights of the Sable March’s very own advisor to the boy-emperor. The conversation had revolved around the loss of the earl’s nephew with ‘Paladin Eldron’ at a battle out on the Freeholds, when ‘they were all captured’ by the brigands of the Freeholds.
Captured. Not killed.
Karl steeped more wet wood over the fire, letting the smoke and heat dry the wood. The pit in which the fire had been built, and the stones arranged around it, hid the small flames from anyone could see through the darkening rain. Karl was more worried that the sound of the rain on the tarp might give him away, but could do little about it. After letting Shindra clean his fingers, he went back to work, using his shovel to redig some little trenches around the shelter such that the rainwater sluiced around the dried area beneath the tent tarp.
Karlitch and Jon had both been eager to join the Order of the Sable March in Archbridge as soon as they were old enough, but the conversation Jon had overheard had fired the boys up considerably. They had shared the information with their mother as soon as they could.
Joyce had merely shaken her head, and asked the boys, “If your father was still alive, do you think some mere brigands could keep him from you? From me?” She had broken down into tears at that point, and both boys had felt abashed. But the spark of hope was still there.
Karl leaned back against his saddle, feeling there was little else work he could do to keep his mind occupied. He pulled a green branch from the pile of wood he had made before making the camp, and began to whittle it as the fire died down.
The next farm over from the Fen’s Reach had belonged to the widower Magowlvin. Magowlvin had a daughter near Karl’s age, with blond tresses down to her lovely derriere, and a smile that could outshine the sun with its brightness.
Karl smiled unconsciously as he whittled a crude approximation of her face into the wood, as his thoughts turned to fair, fair Maelith. Karl smiled again, more ruefully, and shook his head, sighing.
Karl and Maelith had finally, finally managed to steal some time alone together, and explore the pleasures of one another’s company without siblings or workers or anyone nearby. The kisses with Maelith, alone, had been worth dying for, but after spending a half-day with her alone… The length of her strong legs… The curve of her hips… The soft blush of her smile upon her breasts…
Karl shook his head, again, more angrily. Not a week later, his mother had announced that she and the widower Magowlvin were getting married, and that the two families would move in together at the larger Fen’s Reach. Joyce had pointedly said to Karlitch that it would make Maelith and he sisters, and that they would have to stop stealing kisses when they thought no one was looking.
Jon, for his part, had hated the widower Magowlvin’s sons, and been in plenty of fights with them – for those same sons had had an eye on Karl and Jon’s oldest sister Erin. Karl had broken up plenty of fights, and been in plenty of fights, with both his brothers and the widower Magowlvin’s boys.
The marriage forced Karlitch and Jon to accelerate their plans to join the Knights of the Sable March. They stayed only long enough for the wedding – and a secret, teary goodbye from Maelith to Karlitch – and the two had left for Archbridge.
Neither brother was cut out for the intrigue or harshness of the city life, and the few coins they had were either stolen or spent all-too-quickly. Karl had been accepted easily into the Knights of the Sable March -- or so it seemed. Looking back on the last month, Karl could see that perhaps – despite their not using their father’s name, but going by Magowlvinson instead, someone within the order must have recognized him as Eldron’s son.
Jon, at the last moment, had decided to try to join the Imperial Army. Karlitch had been outraged, and nearly beaten his brother. It was only then that Karlitch realized his younger brother was nearly as big as he was. But his brother’s fierce green-eyed gaze – that of their father – had stopped Karlitch in his tracks.
“Itch, think on it. You’ve already been accepted into the Sable March. Who was it you think set Da up, though?”
Karlitch had foundered. “Wha? The brigands! That stil-“
“Listen! If Da worked for the Sable March, who would’ve told the brigands he was coming?” Jon asked, and Karl belatedly realized where his brother was going.
Karlitch protested half-heartedly. “You can’t mean to join the Imperial Army! Da always said they were more interested in money, than honor!”
Jon nodded. “All the more reason to join. Ma won’t need the money we make. The family’ll be fine. That means I can use what coin I earn in the Imperial Army to mebbe find out what happened to Da, especially if I volunteer for the Freeholds.”
Karlitch half-clenched his hands in frustration, his mind not quite keeping up with his swifter brother’s. He shook his head, and sighed. “How will we watch out for one another?”
Jon shook his head remorselessly. “We can’t. We won’t.” He smiled, of a sudden. “Not until we find something out. Then, if you do, send word to Maelith.”
Karlitch scowled. “Maelith? What’s she-“
“She loves you. She’d do anything for you. I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”
Karlitch scowled again, his dark brows and hair remarkably like his father’s. “Jon, don’t, I-“
“You don’t think of her like that. I know.” Jon grinned impishly, “But that doesn’t mean she won’t keep a message for you, or for me, if it comes to it.”
Karl sighed, and tossed the carving into the flames.
He had not questioned his orders to report to the north, on some obscure quest to help a nobleman at some distant castle, until he had been road-weary for several days straight. The question beguiled him, asked as it was by his subconscious: why would the Order of the Sable March give a horse to a brand new recruit, and send him to the edge of the Empire to aid a nobleman’s house, there? On top of that, his mission was to be a secret – if possible, a secret from the nobleman himself!
Karlitch was a realist; he knew he had talent – at farming, and at swinging a sword, thanks to his father’s brief stays and the constant training with High Cross’ militia, despite his young age. He also knew he did not have the kind of talent required for a paladin, or a spy.
The farmer-turned-soldier decided he was not cut out for the intrigue he had gotten himself into. He reminded himself, though, of his father. He wanted the truth.
His father, a paladin! And his family never knowing…? He had always been a pious man, but strange little things made sense, in light of that – not having to put down the old stubborn mule Molly, when she had broken her leg; Molly’s ‘miraculous’ recovery, which their father had attributed to sheer stubbornness in the mule. The fact that of all the large farmer families he knew, his mother had not lost one of her five children.
Karl was tired, but there was work yet to do. He shrugged himself out of his chain mail shirt, and began seeing to its care. He knew that in humid conditions like the storm he was in, it would be easy for rust to set in and ruin the chain mail – and hard as hell to remove it afterwards. A woolen rag and a bit of oil from a heavy flask set him well on his way towards protecting his equipment.
The Sable Marchman was a realist in many ways. He was far from the farm, and while the Empire’s forces fought more with one another than their enemies, brigands and monsters both were loose in the lands. The dim light of the banked fire provided an evil red glow to the freshly-oiled long sword Karl set about to honing to razor sharpness.
Character Background authored by: Joe Parish
Last edited by Renshai on Tue Oct 03, 2006 11:23 pm, edited 2 times in total.
This is awesome. Not sure if you care about folks posting on your thread or not. If it's a problem, let me know and I'll delete the post.
But ... Wow. Great story threads. Makes me miss the good old days back in college. This is shaping up to be an awesome campaign. Can't wait to see the story unfold.
It was hectic. The Direbats and their goblin riders surprised the party, swooping into javeling range (javelin's with barbs mind you).
They were after the child in the back of the wagon, as he was much easier to carry away. By the end of the fight a few of the party members had some nasty javelin wounds and the fighter's dog had nearly been carried away .
Two more weeks!
