Blight: Lore & Fiction


#342

The Black Knight.

Chapter 3 of the Vampire Lords of Transylvan.

Oasis, Giant’s Dust, last free city of the Orcs.

The rhythm of destruction pounded upon the remnants of the blockade that was the Orcish fortifications.
Pale, sweaty stock bodies moved in clockwork order as the Dark Dwarves loaded in more cannonballs into their ferocious feral mouth shaped cannons before they roared their deadly payload on the orcs ahead.
Mortal warriors waited alongside their dead peers as a Vampire lord rode along the battle line on his black steed, inspecting his troops one last time before the call would come from Count Drakul.
The vampire, Lord Albrecht von Karn. wore his blood red armour with a long black cloak. His manservant, a wretched hunchback creature that could be barely described as human, walked beside his master as he read from a list.
His vampiric eyes danced along the skeletal forces. They would suffice as cannon fodder. The real punch would come from his mortal soldiers and his werewolves.
Von Karn perfected the technique back in home in Arabiana when the undead might of Transylvan marched against the Sultanate of Mulad II.

The undead would charge into the fresh soldiers, taking the impact from their camel riders or absorbing the arrows from the carpet archers. When the enemy was bogged down by the dead, the living forces of Transylvan (spearheaded by him of course) would cut a bloody swath to the tired enemy and slay them to the man. His necromancers would raise the fresh dead to cover the retreating living and the cycle would begin again.
This would be the first time he would use the tactic on Orcs.
“Igon!” the vampire lord snapped. The creature jumped up afraid." Be useful for once! What do you know of the Orcs?"
“Oh urghm!” Igon mumbled." According to Encyclopaedia Alundria they are a violent but proud warrior race…“
Von Karn frowned.” Go on. And grovel more for the love of the night…“
Igon continued feebly as he bowed deeper. “They also seem to be able to use fire magic, the only ones in this continent who can do so, my lord…”
“Fire magic…” the vampire rubbed his chin.” We faced that before when those Arabiana’s used those pyromancers, I know how to handle that."
“More bodies on the pile, my lord?” Igon suggested.
“Of course you idiot!” Von Karn snapped." Now sound the advance!“
The wretched creature blinked, confusion swam in his eyes.” My lord?"
“I’m done waiting for the Count, I thirst for orc blood!” he drew his sword to further illustrate the point." MEN OF TRANSYLVAN! CHARGE!"

The explosions stopped as smoke began to lift from the sandy remains of what once was a sturdy wall.
Olg of the Red Sword clan coughed as he waved the smoke away with his hand before he peered ahead. His heart nearly slipped a beat when his eyes saw the enemy. Rows upon rows of undead warriors, faster than any Immortal he had fought before, charged towards them.
“The enemy is here!” he cried and drew his axe. He looked back upon the few handful of warriors the clan had left after the protected battle before and the bombardment that followed. He knew that victory was not possible nor escape since the last of the boats were used to send their pups to safety. The only thing they could do was end things on their terms and make the bloodsucker’s victory as spiteful as possible.
The warriors with him drew their axes as their goblin slaves fearfully picked up their bows. Chieftain Ulfran drew his massive warblade.
“Orcs, prepares yourselves for glory! When our souls will be send to the sun they will be as hot and red as the fire within the earth itself!” The chieftain cried out." FOR HONOUR!“
Olg cried " FOR HONOUR!” along with the other warriors of his kind and ignored the sobs of the slaves.

“Chieftain!” One of them cried and rushed to Ulfran.
The chieftain snarled at having his speech ruined." What?!" No you may not run, I will gut you myself if you do!"
“Nonononono!” the slave quickly said and pointed behind him." Look, just arrived!“
The goblin pointed to the dock where a small boat docked. It’s occupant left the boat and did not bother tying a rope to the dock. Olg saw the occupant was human but very unlike what he saw before. His armour was completely black with skulls emblazoned on his knees and shoulders. A large black cloak that covered his face and back trailed behind him and obscured the scabbard that hung on his back.
One of the orcs was about to charge when Ulfran pulled him back.
“No.” the chieftain commanded.” Let him pass…"

The orcs and goblins moved to the side as the large black knight moved passed towards the undead lines.
Olg did not know if he thought the man was brave or insane but could not help but feel a respect towards him.
“Who is that…?” one of the goblins asked.
Ulfran pulled the goblin by the back of his neck and as it yelped he spoke.
“THAT little gobo, is the Black Knight! The left hand of the Grim Reaper himself! He’s been fighting the Blight for over one hundred years! He has slain whole herds of Immortals by himself and put down any Child of the Light that dared get in his way! Praise your gods you got to see him before your demise today for he always brings glorious death with him wherever he goes!“
The goblin cried out in fear. Ulfran rolled his eyes and dropped the goblin.” Follow me, men! A great death awaits us!“
The warriors and their slaves got in their formations and marched behind the Black Knight.
Olg marched beside the only Dragon Brigade member that remained, a orc by the name of Urk.” What brings the Black Knight here?” he asked." There is no Blight here.“
Urk shrugged.” I don’t know, he must feel these new undead and wishes to test his mettle perhaps."
The chieftain gave the order to charge. Olg raised his axe in the air along with Urk and followed his leader to a glorious end.
He prayed he would have a good death in battle so he could return as a proud warrior in the next life.

He moved without fear. As the rows of undead warriors charged him he felt nothing but annoyance.
Oh look, Mikhail…" a dark voice spoke in his head.” Appetizers…"
The Black Knight undid his cloak, the fabric flew away in the wind, as he drew his massive sword from it’ scabbard. The sword was roughly his size, more of a big slap of metal rather than an actual sword with an edge.
The knight gave his sword a swing…and took down a whole row of the undead.
“Oh, I love the sound of bones crunching!” the voice cried with savage joy. “Do it again!”
“Shut up, spirit.” the knight spoke and cut down another row of the undead.
His sword moved unnaturally fast despite it’s size, obliterating and slamming through decayed bone and armour like it was not there.

The knight heard the voice sigh annoyed.
"You know, Mikhail…how many times you told me to shut up these part one hundred years?"
The knight grabbed an undead’s warrior by his head and crushed it with his left hand. Beside him the orcs charged into the undead lines with green anger and violence
"Over three thousand and thirteen times!" the voice replied despite the chaos of the battlefield around them.
“Shut up, spirit.” The knight replied as he dropped the corpse.
“Three thousand and fourteen…” the voice added. "Oh these lot are a lot faster than Immortals aren’t they? Also with a lot less…ah bah, amateur level necromancy. Mikhail, take me to the necromancer who raised this horde. I demand a word with him."
The knight continued his bloody work and ignored the voice. He raised his sword for another blow when a racking pain crumbled him to his knees.
“I SAID TAKE ME TO THE NECROMANCER!” the voice commanded, all former sense of mirth gone.

A spear bounced off his black shoulder plate, it’s owner a confused human man with pale skin.
Before he could react the knight jammed his blunted sword through the man’s chest and raised it in the air, his blood came down like crimson rain.
“You nearly got us killed, you fool!” the Black Knight shouted out loud.
“Then listen to your betters, you impertinent fool!” the voice said." Slay the necromancer!"

The Black Knight threw off the corpse of the soldier of his sword and charged forward, his anger to his unseen master fuelling his every strike.
“One day, I will end you…” he said to himself.
If the voice heard he did not speak of it but rather pointed out another threat.
“Oh look, werewolves!”


A surge of bloodlust ran through Von Karn as he cut the neck of an orc with his sword. It’s blood escaped from it’s neck in a fountain of blood.
As it crumpled down on the sandy floor the vampire lord licked his bloodied blade.
His features frowned as he spat." IGON!" he cried." Attend me!“
The creature ran over with a goblet on a tray and held it for his master.
The lord picked up the goblet and downed the elf blood down his throat.
“That was terrible!” Von Karn cried.” I’ve tasted slave blood better than this…and he was a leper!“
Igon bowed deeply.” Very inconsiderate of them, my lord…"
“Indeed.” Von Karn agreed with himself. He turned to see his troops." Men, kill them har-"

His eyes went wide when he saw the destruction his men faced.
One knight in black armour cut apart dozens of his men with one strike, the sound of werewolves crying in pain sounded in the night arid air. If his black heart still worked it would’ve stopped a beat.
One of the werewolves made a leap for the knight. With one swift cut the creature was cut in half vertically and both halves fell to the sides of the knight who proceeded to butcher more of the Vampire’s men.
“It looks like a Blight Lord, my lord.” Igon said.
Were he not scared he would’ve strangled the life out of the creature. He remembered the scriptures. The sign of the end of vampire kind. The Black Knight, awash in a dark aura and the blood of the dead.
The count had to know.
“Sound the retreat…“
Igon looked up to his master.” Master?”
“SOUND THE RETREAT!” Lord Von Karn shouted and urged his horse away from the battle with his man-servant running behind him.

The Dark Dwarves fired a few rounds for cover as the living made a hasty retreat.
After one more round they ignited their cannons and ran as well. Before long fiery explosions erupted from them like volcanoes. After the fires died the sand below the cannons was changed to smooth glass.
As the Orcs celebrated their victory none saw the Black Knight walking into the desert, chasing the necromancer.


#343

Interesting developments. I see the orcs’ plans to work with the vampires blew up in their faces? Also, interesting dynamic with the Dread Lord and Dragonhelm knight now sharing one mind and body. Can’t wait to see what that will result in, though I do wonder why the Dread lord doesn’t blighten the lands he walks upon (including the battlefield they just left). Or did I spoil the next chapter there. Anyway, can’t wait to see what that will turn into.


#344

Hey Mammon!

These Orcs are the last ones who refused to work with the Vampires, the rest like Gorvar the slavemaster have joined up with Count Vlad.

Glad you liked the Black Knight, felt like after the Dawnfort series the Dragonhelm Knight had a bit more play left in him. I like the plot concept of two souls in one body with both halves not always agreeing with each other. Add that with they’ve bern together fighting the Blight for 100 years, it does introduce a cool new mechanic.

We’ve seen them fight in sandy ground where there is little life. Who knows what’ll happen when they arrive in Oasis’ more bountiful areas…

Glad you liked it Mammon!
Next week back to the two kings story…or go old school and write a story of the Dwarf Twins hero card. Not sure…


#345

Gonna postpone the next week for a bit folks, bit busy RL. Nothing to serious.
Sides I need to figure out exactly how much I would be writing and what leads to what. Not sure if I would have the tale of two kings have both kings in every chapter or just stick with one and alternate.


#346

Chapter 14: Master of lies


#347

Great chapter, Mammon.

Defiantly a big fan of how an Immortal Lord thinks and how each is different because of their own personality is life. Thallal screaming in anger was just hi-LAR-ious. :smiley:
I dig the orc backstabbing here and I am looking forward to see Park and the Dust tribe teaming up against everyone. Kinda dig those stories, like the Night elf campaign in Warcraft 3: Reign of Chaos or the Orcs novels by Stan Nicholls.

Loved it man, can’t wait to read more.

Question, is Kristal still around? I suspected the fall of her elven town would play a part in her and Amon’s relationship.


#348

Thanks Gorvar,

Technically you already hinted at the Immortal lords and their personality by saying your Dreadlord was a dragonhelmet knight in life, so it’s not completely my idea. I just went along with it for a bit. Haven’t read Orcs, but I know the WIII story you speak of. Fight alongside your foes to defeat your foes, only this time they’re red and have meteor monsters.

Kristal is still around, and as an elf she’s less influenced by Thallal. Elves are a more rational and less self-centered race, so they’re harder to manipulate by someone like him because reason is quite prominent in their decisions. (Also, less valour required for their villages.) So, combined with the character traits she has, she was guaranteed to be in favour for the Alliance. I actually wanted to give her a line here, but chose to give it to Mammon instead because it was a line that Amon would strike down. I’ve got a bad habit of making Mammon too levelheaded and savvy and have to focus on making him less Mary Sue.
So, Kristal probably wasn’t present during the meeting, as she’s instead waiting impatiently for more news of her village and family. I do plan to make it affect her judgement.

P.S. We have another reader, BTW. Maybe they’ll reveil themselves with a tale or comment, maybe not. But I figured you might want to know that the audience just doubled. :smile:


#349

Awesome!
I hope he/she joins in! It helps to have a fresh pair of eyes and mind to this!


#350

The Twins.

The First Blight war.
Wisdom Province.

The refugee train arrived at the city of Crimson Plain with the dead on their trail.
Ever since the fall of the cities and villages to the north to the Blight, flows of refugees made their way southward towards the temporary safety of the south.
The city of Crimson Plain was a city of fear. If one walked through the streets they could feel the atmosphere of fear in the air
The swordsmen still did their duty and guarded the walls and the streets. Doomsayers were incarcerated, looters were hung and a semblance of order was uphold.
It’s ruler, Duke Feron, knew better however. The city would fall against the dead for Crimson Plain had far less men to defend it’s walls nor were it’s walls as sturdy as the bigger keeps as Solidvail.
Feron stayed in his keep and kept the image that he would remain in the times of crisis. In truth he had nowhere else to flee. The roads were blocked by his people whom would instantly turn on him if they saw him flee and he owed great debts to the Shadow Bazaar who would kill him the moment he stepped outside without a proper bodyguard.

Like a prisoner awaiting the noose at dawn, the people of Crimson Plain waited for the inevitable.
Mother’s smothered their babes, men picked up sticks in the hopes to at least die fighting and some portions of the city descended into cannibalism. When the undead did finally arrive on the horizon it was met both with relieved anguish and many suicides. The clouds darkened overhead as black ravens circled around the city like a feast waiting to happen.
Duke Feron likewise contemplated suicide himself when the horn was heard.

A gryphon horn cascaded through the valley as a host of dwarves marched towards the city, among them artisans, warriors and the two heroes called Villi and Ve. Firstborn sons of the dwarven people and the paragons of all other dwarven twins who wish to be like them throughout the centuries.
Villi and Ve were the most prized sons of the dwarven holds. Heroes of many battles that would’ve been the doom of the children of the mountain. Villi was the larger of the two who was as strong as a troll. He had slain numerous beasts, orcs and even a black drake and sired a strong line of warriors across Alundria. Ve was the thinker of the two, he relied on archery and clever tactics to win his victories. He was a gifted alchemist and some scholars claim he was responsible for the invention of gunpowder. Ve was the brain and Villi the brawn.

When the first human refugees reached the halls of the dwarf lords their pleas did not fall on deaf ears.
If anything the Mountain Kings shut up their gates and refused to march out to aid the lands to the north.
It was Ve’s words that convinced the Mountain King Odin to open the gate and send one force to stop the Blight from spreading further south.
When the dwarves arrived at Crimson Plain they immediately went to work.
Barriers were set up, turret emplacements were set and the warriors took over the duties of the dead tired and morale stricken commanders.
The men and women, among them mostly peasants, picked up weapons and found new faith as the Twins set up their command. The Twins were experts in siege warfare and had dealings with similar undead creatures before.
A large moat was made, covered with spikes and sludge and then set ablaze which left only one entrance to the front gate where the dwarves awaited.

When the undead did attack, they came upon dwarven steel and resolve. Dwarven arrows and shot downed blighters before they got close to the walls and those who did were driven towards one killing point where they came upon dwarven steel and resolve.
Several defensive shield walls were placed behind each other, when a dwarf were to fall in battle or become to tired a warrior from a previous line would take his place.
From the front Vili led the men into battle and held the line as Ve provided covering fire and oversaw the defense.
By the end of the day, the Blighted horde was dead and the Twins entered both dwarven and human history as saviours.
To this day all descendants from Villi and Ve honour their ancestors by exhibiting their strength and cunning in one dwarf each.


#351

Grim beginning. While it does seem like the humans at least kept order at the walls, this kind of tale does make the children of light seem like the better alternative. Insane zealots, maybe, but ones that can face the Blight and the panic that otherwise consumes humans before their arrival.

Leave it to dwarven twins to save the day :wink:


#352

Pick you poison, apathy or zealots. Kinda like the Nihilists and the Wilds in your story :wink:
It was a short story this week, kinda like the first stories we did back when we started writing fiction.
I found the Twins card fascinating just because off the fluff material there. Why would twins sign up to fight the Blight? What would the backstory be. What would inspire them?

And I love writing dwarf and orc stuff :smiley:


#353

I haven’t forgotten this dudes! Be sure to comment or write your own stuff!


#354

Don’t worry, I’ve written something but time is a harsh mistress right now.


#355

Chapter 15: A false sense of security.


#356

A good read as always Mammon!
Personal favourite is the Arabiana lot first encountering the Immortals and how Hassim recounts his ancestor’ stories as a bit of exposition. I really liked that bit of the story.
Second favourite was Dahra, i’m starting to like this desert maiden. She has a fire to her that I dig. Kudos.


#357

Grudges remembered.

Chapter 1 of the Tale of Two Kings.

THROR

All along the winding chasms and abyss’ under the human realm of Gryphon’s Crown, the sounds of war echoed. The dwarves of Coolcraig fought the undead menace in the tunnels, the bridges hat spanned across the infinite darkness that led to the core of the world and the gateways that led to Coolcraig.
The fighting was fierce as the undead horde swarmed from the dark at the defenders of the gates. It was obvious that this Blight as the Citadel started to call it, would keep battering against the doors of the children of the mountain until it was broken. If that were to happen, the humans above would have to face the undead themselves. Some would claim it is admirable of the dwarves to carry the burden of defending mankind like that…but the truth was if Gryphon’s Crown were to fall it would only be a matter of time before those undead would attack the stunted folk above ground.

“Hold the line!” Prince Thror cried. He raised his ancestral axe, Razor’s edge, in the air, already thick with Immortal blood.
No Blighter will pass this point! WE ARE THE CHILDREN OF THE MOUNTAIN!"
The dwarven warriors cried out in unison and marched forward. Thror tuned and faced the undead horde with stoic contempt. Among the undead he saw many of his former kin and goblins.
“I cannot believe those dwarves would fight alongside gobbos…” a younger dwarf muttered next to Thror. Like Thror he to wore extensive armour befitting royalty, with thick dwarven steel, a red cape and a helmet adorned with a gryphon.
“We’re all equal in death, Magni…” Thror patted his son on his shoulder." Give the Blunderbusses a volley. Then we charge."
“Aye, father.” Magni took out his horn and blew it. A heartbeat later metal pellets flew overhead and cut their way through the rotting, maggot infested horde.

The undead who fell were either trampled to death or pushed aside the bridge and fell down into the hungering dark. But even so their march was stunted. Now was the time to stop the tide. Prince Thror raised his axe in the air. “FOR COOLCRAIG! FOR THE ANCESTORS!” He cried. Together as one the dwarves charged into the Immortals, axes cleaving and hammers smashing.
“Stay close to me, son!” he called to Magni, unnerved by the putrid blood spluttering and the crunching of bone." Our kind has enough dead heroes."
“Aye, father.” Magni replied." I have no plans to die just yet. Not until I’ve seen the halls of Orangecraig for myself!" His son smashed his warpick into a Immortal’ skull." Think we can beat them all the way back to our ancestral home, da?"
“Ah you youngsters, thinking your beard is bigger than it actually is…” Thror could not help but grin regardless.

The undead tide was pushed back as dwarven steel smacked the rotting flesh and bone aside into the abyss. Things were going good.
“The ancestors are with us!” Thror cried." Stay the course!"
“Prince Thror!” A gryphon warrior pointed his gore covered mace ahead." Look!"
The dwarven prince turned to to where his soldier pointed. It was the tunnel entrance but it glowed with light. He frowned, the Immortals did not need torches and King Hadgar Dainson promised no reinforcements.
The light grew brighter as a figure came out. It was an Immortal, a former dwarf…but it was different from the others. Besides the glowing it seemed to move with…purpose. Like it was sentient. It knew what it was doing. what was worse Thror swore he saw the remnants of dwarven royal armour on him. The Immortals backed off and swarmed around the newly arrived undead lord like flies to a torch.

The men muttered in their beards but Magni was already on it.
“Steady your beards!” he slammed his warpick on his helmet." The orders remain the same! Hold the tunnel!"
Aye!" the warriors cried and slammed their weapons on their shields or armour. Thror looked back at Blunderbusses above them." ANOTHER VOLLEY!"
he ranged warriors replied with a hail of steel bullets aimed at the undead.
More of the Immortals fell before the hail…save the dwarven lord. The bullets ripped into his flesh as warm, fiery liquid fell on the floor. The lord looked at his wound curiously…and then began to laugh.

“By my grandfather’s beard…” Thror said in disbelief." It’s laughing!"
“But I thought they were just…meat puppets!” Magni added.
“Aye…” Thror steadied his nerve." Hold the line! Nothing comes past! We are the mountains themselves! IMMOVABLE!"
The dwarves, including Magni, stood shoulder to shoulder and awaited the new undead wave. Thror glared at the undead lord. He promised King Dainson he would protect the entrance to Coolcraig with his life, to amend for the debt his father left him.
Were it one, two or a hundred waves, he swore none would pass.
There were no dwarves left on the bridge after the second wave.

The gate was burnt open as the undead swarmed through, led by the dwarven lord as it’s dark chuckles echoed through the tunnels as a dark warning.
Thror awoke from the burning rubble, his head ajar and filled with pain. When his eyes steadied and fell upon where he stood just a few moments before his heart stopped. The smell of cooked flesh churned his stomach as he saw the smouldering remains of what once was his men.
A molten mess of steel and flesh and hair came together In a big blob.
He did not know how long he remained motionless as the undead passed him by or when the forces of Princess Freya found him, still on his knees with his ancestral axe by his side and his son’s warpick in his hands.
All he knew was he failed Coolcraig, his bloodline and most important of all…his son, whose dead terrified eyes stared at him still from the flesh mob.

A shake awoke Thror from his slumber. The concerned eyes of his orcish lover put him at ease.
“You were crying in your sleep again, little man.” she said as a matter of factly. Or as kindly as a orc could do. " Bad dreams?“
It took him a moment to steady his heart.” Aye…bad dreams.“
She strayed his cheek with a softness only reserved for lovers before she kissed him.” Sleep, we have a big day tomorrow…" With that she turned her bare back to him and soon enough was snoring again.
The dwarf laid his head back on his pillow. His head turned to left where his warpick was leaning against the wall. The same pick he used as a miner and as a warrior who defended Dawnfort. In a way his son was still with him…and in a way he would still see the halls of Orangecraig. One way or another.

JOHAN

The large group of bandits jeered and shouted as their leader stepped forward to meet the mercenaries.
“I am Jella.” she glared at the blue haired sorceress." I demanded to speak with Lord Vorin, why is he not here?“
The blue haired woman spoke.” He hired us instead to kill you." she replied honestly.
The bandits growled at this with some even drawing their sword. The large bare chested orc next to the blue haired woman leant on his two handed axe while the other mercenaries barely bothered to react to the bandit’s bravado.
“You shouldn’t antagonise them, Indigo…” the orc muttered.
If she heard the orc she did not reply to him." I’ve come instead with a compromise. You leave now and we will not chase you. We have food we can spare and water so you can feed your families. We can recommend work in Park for you if you want to leave Sanctuary."

Jella, the grim faced leather armoured glared before she spat towards Indigo." That is what I say to your mercy.“
Indigo blinked.” That wasn’t so much as a reply as a bodily function.“
The orc groaned as the other Wrekers looked away awkwardly.
The bandit picked up her axe from the tree stump that served as the border.” My men outnumber yours thrice over, if you’re smart you leave now and tell your Lord he owes us land and coin for treating us like dung before and during the Blight!" This got more cheers from the other bandits.
“And my men are better trained and armoured than yours. It will be costly yes but we can and will kill you to the last man.” Indigo said which got more jeers." Might I suggest another compromise?“
Jella frowned.” What?“
Indigo opened her arms.” A duel of champions. Your best man to ours."

Jella rubbed her chin in thought. She snarled at her men once when they got to rowdy. She nodded." Very well, one versus one. Losers leave.“
She motioned to her lines as a large half-giant walked forward. He had a large shield that was roughly the size of a door and held a club the size of a small tree.
“Tom, Tom, Tom, Tom!” the bandits chanted.
Jella folded her arms with a smirk.” Tom killed fifty Blighters himself before my group took him in. He’s our best fighter. Name yours.“
The orc smirked and was about to speak when Indigo shook her head.” No, Torv. Get Johan."

The red knight was sitting against a tree as he slumbered, a large trail of drool on his shirt as he snored loud enough to wake the dead. A rock thrown to his head made an end to that.
Johan cried out in surprised pain and drew his sword clumsily." Whozit?!“
The large orc with the red paint mask picked up another rock.” It’s me, Torv." he tossed another at the knight who barely swatted it away." Indigo wants you to fight a half-giant." The orc raised his brow before he sniffed." Are you drunk?“
Johan yawned as he put his sword in it’s scabbard after three previous attempts.” Maybe a little…“
The red knight turned to the tree before he undid his breeches and answered nature’s call.
Torv sighed annoyed.” Stupid pinkskin…you knew we could be in battle today. Why would you get drunk?!"

The knight laced his breeches up as he turned around, knocking his sword against the tree, and walked towards the orc. He placed his hand on the greenskin’ shoulder.
“A challenge.” He smirked before he walked towards the commotion ahead.

The Wrekers parted for the red knight. Some reveredly, the others with disgust. He was their leader but he did not behave like it. It was either the rocks to his head or the hang-over that was causing his head to pound like a orcish war drum. It was making him angry, good.
He moved to Indigo and nodded at her." Morning, Indigo.“
The blue haired sorceress blinked.” …You are drunk."
“No, i’m hung over.” Johan drew his sword." Who do I have to kill?"
Before any could answer he turned towards the half-giant who slammed his club against the ground and roared out a challenge.
“Oh good, he might last longer than five seconds…” Johan said and moved forward, stumbling as he went.

Jella laughed as she saw the red knight move forward." This is your best man, he can barely walk!“
The bandits joined in with the laughter as did the half-giant.
Johan held up his head and motioned the giant man to come at him. Tom accepted the challenge and raced towards the knight, club aimed at the knight.
Jella expected the match to be over there and then…and it was.
Johan dodged the club with ease as his sword cut through the large door-sized shield, the half-giant’s arm and armour. Tom was dead before he hit the floor.
The bandits stopped cheering, their faces pale, as Johan looked around confused.
”…nobody else?" he asked but none replied." Good." he cleaned his blade on Tom’s clothes before he placed his sword back in it’ scabbard and walked back to Indigo." You take care of the rest of the negotiations, I’m hungry." he slapped her shoulder." I’ll spare you some of the eggs."
With that the red knight walked away, leaving admiration in his wake.

“Interesting…” Thror said as he saw the battle from afar." Seems the stories were right after all."
“What stories?” Frenza asked. Both were on horseback on a hillock that oversaw the showdown between the Wrekers and the bandits.
“About the red knight.” Thror motioned his horse onward as Frenza followed." His name is Johan. The Red Knight. The bastard of King Park. One of the children of the Firstborn, the result of a drunken night between a tavern wench and a Firstborn noble. His heritage makes him stronger than a human, faster…he served the dukedom of Park for years to try and impress his father. He fought the orcs of the Wild and Dusk tribes and the Immortals when they came"
Frenza nodded." I to hard of this one. The red wind my people called him. For the speed and the blood he leaves behind in his wake. His blade is of elven make, it belonged to the one who slew Blackbeard. Some kind of sea prince…“
Thror grunted.” Aye…his heritage and that infernal blade make him a dangerous man…and the one we need for our expedition.“
The orc female frowned.” And these Wrekers?“
Thror waved his hand.” Hangers on from Park. Useful enough in a fight. But not the reason why we’re here. If I wanted mercenaries I would’ve hired goblins.“
Frenza smirked.” You wouldn’t little man…your kin wouldn’t allow it.“
Thror paused at this.” …Point. Come, let’s go to Lord Vorin’s keep. No doubt the Wrekers are stationed there and we can ask the red knight to join us personally."
“How?” Frenza asked.
“With coin.” he looked towards the form of the red knight disappearing in the crowd." And empathy."


#358

Now that’s a dark backstory. Ironskins sure are threatening, considering they don’t go down that easy. Not as dangerous in the grand scheme of things, but certainly a force to reckon with one on one. And an interesting nemesis to Thror, I gander?

Johan on the other hand, that one was a suprise. A son of Mammon, fighting? While the Second generation certainly could do so with great talent, the Avarice’s children usually don’t have any aspirations of such profession. Too much effort for too little luxury. I don’t mind though, it’s actually an interesting end goal for Cale’s arc, which I actually intended to add in the last chapter but couldn’t find any inspiration for.
Although the idea of Mammon’s identity of a firstborn is something that he most certainly would not want public, that’s the only part that really vexes me. Firstborn don’t really live that long when people know about them and will seek to drag them into ‘the greatest wars and adventures’ of a measly generation. Mammon made sure no one knew of his true identity.


#359

Well Mammon…who said Mammon is Johan’s father? :stuck_out_tongue:
He’s just a second generation kid who hates his heritage and doesn’t care if he flaunts with it. Also these are all just rumours that Johan doesn’t affirm or deny so they could just be tall tales. For all we know it could be a human warrior who picked up some magic swag that makes him fight that well. But him having daddy issues? That is a thing. I left that bit vague because I didn’t want to god emote your characters into it.
If you are okay with it that’s cool but I didn’t want to force you.

Thror’s backstory is something I eluded to in my previous stories and his character timeline is all over the place.
In the Iron Crown campaign/Morgonna storyline he’s established as a Mountain King who is very controversial, using sleazy tactics and orc mercs to get the job done. There are some bits about his past but they are resolved since he’s become a surrogate dad to Morgonna and tries to help her rule with dwarven wisdom.
In the Dawnfort stories we see him at his lowest point. He’s just a miner who works in that city when the Blight comes around and it’s that plus the respect he received from people like Ashila and Frenza that made him re-evaluate himself and try to reclaim his ancestral home.
The tale of two kings is both delving into Thror’ story, connect the dots, and Morgonna and how a young queen tries to rule her country that is at war with the Blight and itself (I plan on introducing the rebellious lords I hinted at back at the corruption cards thing a while back).

Thanks for reading dude!
Also forgot to mention, love the half-orc half-goblin character in your previous story and the naming convention for it. Pretty neat!


#360

Alright. Like I said, I wouldn’t care either way about the firstborn sons, but hundreds would die before Mammon would allow his identity to go public. And he probably moved the moment the rumour came out, regardless of whether he was the firstborn they talked about or not. Poor Mammon, leaving his realm like that, although that probably would’ve happened one way or another with the recent developments. The balance he created went along with the WIld supremacy.


#361

I can’t wait to see that in your next chapter :slight_smile:
Also more shagging and orcs and dwarves…if that’s up for you. Your tale.