|
Arkov's Journal Adventure 1 - Wagons East! Act 1: Sleipnir and I passed the time on our ride to Palbar by trying to guess how many Pentan souls we would consume for Yara on the Caravan Trail. We finally came to the logical conclusion that, there being such a huge variance in the possible total number, we should bet for an odd or even total. I took even, as Sleipnir is odder by far than a lunar gladiator turned priest. The bet is 5 wheels and a cow, and I hope I lose, as Sleipnir has no wealth I know of and would have to steal even the cow. As we entered the city center a horrible yet familiar cacophony greeted us. White Moonies. The filth are everywhere I go it seems; and in great numbers. My betters say not to slay them out of hand, for martyrs beget more children than broo, but I am under no compunction to treat them gently either. Sleipnir offers to leap the crowd, as we should pay our respects at the temple they surround before anything else. I gladly charge into this but fortune holds her hand for the end of this journey, not the beginning, and we land badly on the far side of the crowd. I think none are hurt worse than Sleipnir, tho they cry murderer and worse at my back as I dismount and walk with him slowly into the temple. There silence reigns, thank Sedanya, and we pay homage and I get a promise of healing from the good priest. It will have to be in the morning he says, so I leave Sleipnir to meditate on his fortunes and go out into the city. As I appear, the Whities begin to cry anew, but something at the far side of the squre distracts them. Guards, crying 'Mostali!' of all things. I shove my way through the white bastards, intent on seeing what may be at the gates. It is strange, a sight none here have ever beheld I believe. A metal wagon that moves with no horse, 2 chimneys one white smoked and one black, with a mechanism at the rear which gives a charnel reek. Many Mostali surround it and they are led to camp north of the city. I see more white, but these are horsemen (ugh) from the west, neither Pentan nor White Moonie, so I shall give them the benefit of my doubts. The palace guard I see talking with them has a scroll in hand, so I question him. The Satrap is holding a dinner, and these riders are his Grace Astarov Rhugandy, and his entourage. They are speaking with the Mostali, so I use my Mooneye to learn the way of this marvelous wagon. Essences, many and strong, some caged, some loose, one in the ground even. The master of the wagon is a cook he says, and from the smell and the pestle-like motion of the contraption to the rear, I can guess the fare is not to be sampled by such as I. I present myself to his grace, and warn them of the loose essence in the ground. With some talk of meeting again at dinner I slip away, for I must doff my armor and straighten my robes for the feast. On the road to the palace for dinner, a family beseeches those nearby for succor, their daughter has been Chosen for the corn sacrifice. I seize the father and remind him of the honor she will have on the moon, and her spirit be with Sedanya, for her loss here, and he quietens. Simple fool, her soul will be devoured by the Corn Demon as all know. The dinner is quite a large and grand affair, as befits the home of the Corn Temple. Jar Eel herself is here, a fine omen of confusion for the Whities. The guests are announced, and I hear a captain from Glamour is here. I resolve to make his acquaintance tonight, as we will no doubt rely on each other on the trail. Things go better than I had hoped. Rough as I am in social graces, I am fortunate to approach this Captain MorlanSor just as some Cosack is trying to tell him he won't accompany the Caravan. I inform this cur that the flower of Glamorian Chivalry need not listen to the braying of a desert ass, scented as it is with horse dung, and am rewarded with a challenge to a duel. I happily accept, and mounted combat at dawn (after the healing) promises to send us off in style. After he stalks off, i learn he is the Hetman of the tribe that guards the caravan until it can reach the town of the Red Haired Pents. For some reason I am inspired to tell the good captain that I will eat the fools horse for good measure. Captain MorlinSor laughs heartily, and I feel this journey will end well. The most important guests are announced last - Jar Eel the Razoress and Leonardo Rhughandy. The silent awe of the moment is shattered by glass breaking as Leonardo and Astarov drop their wine, gaping at each other in astonishment. Astarov... Arkov... were my parents Carmanian ? An idea tries to form in my brain, but as always, I cannot bring up any memories earlier than gladiator school... Act 2: Despite their mutual surprise, the brothers Rhugandy held quite a long conversation. Jar Eel is apparently close to this Leo. Tonight's entertainment is a Truth Contest, a debate between the HonEel temple and the White Moonies. The moonies argue that the coming of the White Moon will be the time of peace, yet I think of the prophecies. Of the blood that must be spilt before the time of peace comes. I see in my mind the true plans of these White Moonies. They object to the corn sacrifices. Corn crops fail across the empire. Compassion subdues reason and inadequate reserves are spread too thin. Starvation stalks the empire, and there is peace only among the dead. For some reason it is an open debate and I take my small jab at the damned moonies, but for naught. Their arguments are sound. And why not, I muse, they really ARE following Her prophecy... The HonEel Temple has a strange argument, some blasphemy about Sinoda, the elven corn god, transforming into Alanthor (due to hunger), and the Red Moon becoming the Red Sun. Myself, his Grace Astarov, and even the Mostali voice our various arguments against them. And we carry! They are undone, the crowd murmur against them, and the Satrap is displeased. We are told to leave. There is no dinner. I do not believe in coincidence. That argument was an Illuminate trick, as show by The All coming upon one Leo, who arranged the contest. I and Astarov and the Mostali (together again) helped him yet in the end he was occluded, even as the HonEel temple was undone by their words of confusion. In the morning I fight my duel and win, tho not as crushingly as I had hoped. He is bitter, but I secure his word there will be no more mouthing off at Lunars on the caravan. I do not eat his horse, for I perceive the daemon in it, and will not waste my resources. (This turned out wise, for when we reached his soldiery, he admonished them to accept our situation and cause no trouble. They number in the hundreds, and could doubtless have forced the issue with Captain Morlinsor to a bad end despite our best efforts.) The Satrap has declared the Truth Contest void, and the people riot! as so many among them are White Moonies, it is joyous work indeed that morning. Sleipnir and I waste no time giving the Satrap's heart the same balm mine has needed for so long. The Satrap even has me recognized for Loyalty and Bravery. White Moon blood stains the city, yet the rebellion dies not. It is aflame across the satrapy even as the caravan leaves. We reach Red Hair City at dusk, and the main Kostok forces join us. They're a surly bunch of horse riding brutes, but they look formidable enough. Act 3: The Caravan reached Hazreel today, home to the high temple of Kastokus. All manner of Kastok mutts are found swarming here. Horses everywhere, of course. They all steer clear of Sleipnir, thank Yara. We learn a bit of Pentan lore from our hosts. Apparently the Pentans aren't regarded as a nation, but still simply a bunch of tribes. I wonder, myself. They were united once, no one has forgotten what that enabled them to do… To be better prepared for conflict as our journey continues, I ask around as to the situation of Lunar Casters, for I am one of the Beloved of Yara and I can call her light around me. Despite the respectable number of wizards traveling with Maloisin Redeye, I decide to leave the Caravan to the Kastoks. Sleipnir and I will ride with Morlinsor's Yanafal Cavalry' If I am to die , let it be surrounded by Lunars! In the morning we hear from some outriders that the rebellion is in full swing, so now many of the Kastoks will head west to fulfill their duty to the Empire. I would go with them, and kill the White Moonies, but Yara has bid me go east. I shall not falter. We reach Asok's Ford, a rude fort on the border of Pent proper. I use a few choice phrases from my gladiator days when I learn the river is too high to cross. This endears me to the watch, who accept my companionship for a few hours, over which I eventually learn several reconnaissance patrols have not returned. I am beginning to sense great wheels turning, turning towards Pent. In the morning, Stavas the halfbreed rides out to try and parley with a group of Pentans he has sussed out to the northeast. I leave sometime later, looking for any Pentans foolish enough to be waylaid. I find only strong patrols, and make my way back to the fort, unfulfilled. Act 4: Stavus returns to tell us there are 1500 Pentan warriors 3 hours ride from the fort. Fortuitous indeed that the Caravan is here. The mighty Fort Asok hosts 100 men. With our expanded guard, we have some 1100 warriors to add to their (and our) defense. The Wagon Master is distressed, but he seems to enjoy being concerned. Stavas tries in vain to persuade us to let them pass, which the commander says he will not do, as a foe at their back is distasteful to them… Myself, I wonder why there are so few, since it seems they wish to pass the fort to make a new home, not just raze it…what are they fleeing ? The Mostali works up a great deal of essence magic, and informs us his Gnomes have dug pits under the sod out to our east and north flanks . I spend the day writing poems to Yara, and praying for rivers of Pentan blood… I shall include a short one here :
The next morning, the Pentans attack. The pits surprise them, and although Yara denies me my glowline for the charge, once we clash I am able to channel her loving glow to the cavalry about me. The Pentans are fierce fighters, and the battle rages. Yet well before either side can be said to be winning, a strange thing happens. Some Thing flies over me. I am not quick enough to see it, but my Mooneye can see the Sun (to our south now) is dimmed by theist magic. Soon more cries of confusion reveal something is afoot. I look to the Pentan side of the river, only to see them as beset as we are. Large beetles launch themselves on clumsy wings over, through, and into our ranks. Soon they are hitting the Caravan, and the Fort. Now I see a small black humanoid who runs off, waving a gnarled black spear. Something begins swimming to the surface of my memory. The crawling bugs are seen next, equally large and cumbersome, their jaws scythe ravenously, mindlessly. They are moving through us, moving insensate, blindly driven. At last we see the drivers. Many many small figures, which I finally recognize as Trollkin! Through the encroaching Darkness from the south, the shapes of Trolls can be seen. It is an invasion! Act 5: Stavas the halfbreed brings more news of the Pentans. They say there is a new Ur Khan, and that he has perverted their worship of Kargzant. ALL the tribes follow him but these few. Vandar and Nep say the Red Haired Kahn assured them there is no Ur Kahn, and that was recently, and that Pent was obviously subdued because they continue to give up all red haired children. I don't waste my breath trying to tell them they have their heads in the sand. The Kastok would never admit the Pentans could be a threat, and the merchant wants everyone to keep making him money. To me, it is obvious that the red haired child tribute system is backfiring in a magnificent way, giving the Pentans knowledge and power and a safe system to conceal themselves behind. Doubtless the red-hairs are the leaders of this new Ur Kahn's armies, with their Lunar cunning they have made something out of their spirituous Kargzant worship that they believe will enable them to succeed where pain-star failed. Astarov or someone rouses the Caravan, for they follow Morlinsor and I as we lead the cavalry against the Uz across the ford. The Pentans rally away from us for their own attack on the Uz. I can only describe my feelings as 'conflicted' as I watch them ride away . Sleipnir breaks in on my inner battle with a warning: 'Sspider Riderss'. THAT got my attention. I have never met another with a steed like mine, and these prove no different. I learn later that the riders are doubtless Karg's Sons, some Uz shaman cult. Beast worship. Pfft. I activate my most potent charms and, embracing the Glow, we charge into battle as only Yara's chosen can, with 50 yards leaps, spear-first. The fools try to surround me as I kill one of them and temporarily come to earth. Moon-Splinter, my spear, blazes in the Glow around me, her iron shank thirsty for more monster-blood. Spears break upon my Armor, and their tarantellas are clumsy oxen compared to Sleipnir, we blur aloft as I take another Uz-life from the world. They break now, and try to flee, but none live long. Morlinsor has acquitted himself well. The road east lies clear, for now, and Astarov has led the Caravan to us, trailing fire and slaughter. The magic fades from me as we put distance between us and the Uz. My extra arms are gone, my countenance fair again (ha!) and Sleipnir no longer leaps for the moon. Without the Glow, the new moon seems tiring. < Back > |