StarDestroyer.Net BBS

This task should not fall to me, but it has. Juna is wiser and more insightful and Melgan more learned, but neither has the inclination to write a true history of our fellowship or our deeds so the task has fallen to me. The others are content to become myths and legends or fade into obscurity. To me, that would be the ultimate failure, an abadonment of our highest calling and our greatest accomplishments. We did ill deeds as well as great ones, but I like to think we did far more good than harm.

So where to begin? I suppose the beginning is best, but where did we truly begin? Will those that read this account understand what I take for granted? It seems wisest to give a little background, so that scholars wiser than I can place my tale in proper context.

What was now called the Old Kingdom, and had once been called Vadray, had been gone for more than two centuries. It had collapsed in the time we called Darkfall during which the land had been beset by plague, civil war, and dark magic. Much that was great fell into ruin and almost all that tied the land together fell into pieces. The survivors lived in their town and villages and in the ghosts of once great cities. Much of the land became wild and dangerous again, darker and more dangerous than it had ever been according to some.

I do not know the truth of that. All I know is that the land was called Vadray and the Old Kingdom was dead, but not entirely gone. Men and women still tried to make their way in the world, to build lives for themselves and for their children, and one did not have to look so very hard to see the remains of what had once been mighty.

That is the stage the players performed on, but where to start? I guess I should begin with the number. We were not always seven, in fact we were rarely seven, but the name stuck. I guess the tale itself truly begins with Roaz.

Roaz lived in the town of Timberfall, whose founders had cleared the forest three generations previously to settle the land. They had been tough men and women and although their descendents had easier lives, they were a strong and hardy folk. Roaz was one of them and at the age of sixteen had begun to clear land for what would become his farm, with the aid of his father, brothers, and cousins.

He had also fallen in love, although it is difficult to even get her name past his lips these days. I never knew her, so about her I can say little other than Tamerlee was of Timberfall and that Roaz loves her to this day. She was the reason he swore the Oath.

I don't know what the Oath was, although I suspect it had to do with either winning her hand in marriage or accomplishing something she desired. Timberfall is on the western edge of the Great Woods, no where close to the Oathmaster or its daughter statues, but whether it is gods or Old Kingdom sorcery that hears the Oaths it did hear him and it touched him.

Whatever Roaz did, he fulfilled his Oath and he got Tamerlee's hand in marriage. He finished clearing his farmstead and building his house and they prospered together. I visited the spot once. There are three small graves behind the ruins. He never speaks of his children, so bitter and painful the memories of their fates.

Doom came upon him, of course. He gave shelter one night to a wounded man who had stumbled on to his land near sunset. They had called for the healer and she had come and eased the man's suffering. If that had been the end of it he would have lived and gone on about his way.

But that was not the end of it, of course. His pursuers were close, only hours away. If they had been slower, their prey would have been gone and they would not have tarried at Roaz's house. That was not to be.

They were not bandits, although they certainly appeared as such and their was no shortage of such folk abroad in the lands. Their weapons were too good and their leader to well furnished in a harness of blackened plate and a blade of enspelled obsidian. Magic allowed them to track their prey to Roaz's door and they came to finish the job.

Sorcery blasted open the door and set the house alight. They came with swords and axes to finish the work. They were not discriminate. Their prey tried to escape out a window as did Roaz's wife and children. They put them all to the sword.

Some of Roaz's neighbors saw what was going on and seized weapons so they could help. Half of them were his kin, one way or another. They were slaughtered. Roaz was left disembowled on the threshold of his own house as it burned.

He swore an Oath, of course. Many do, but the Oathmaster rarely pays attention to Oaths sworn at the foot of its own pedestal. It honours those made at its daughter statues even less often. It almost never pays attention those sworn away in other places. Except if it has already noticed the Oathswerer. And it had already noticed Roaz. So once again, he was Oathsworn.

The wounds would have killed an ordinary man, but he was Oathsworn. He lived long enough for the healer to arrive and healed rapidly after that. But by the time he was fit for travel, his enemy was long gone and the trail was cold. But he was Oathsworn and would not be daunted. He buried his family and took to the road. That's where I met him.

Ah, new story! Completely original too, it seems. As always, I'll look out for updates, and make sure I don't fall behind like I've done in Look What I Found under A Rock.

Ford Prefect wrote:Ah, new story! Completely original too, it seems. As always, I'll look out for updates, and make sure I don't fall behind like I've done in Look What I Found under A Rock.

It's background for an Arcana Evolved campaign I intend to run.

Looks very interesting so far

Of course it wasn't that simple or easy. Tyrel's story should really come next, but he won't speak of it. Fortunately for posterity Tyrel's past is far from obscure. The legends have grown though.

He was the third son of Lord of Broken Rock. Broken Rock's Lord, a few armsman, and a small militia comprised its defences. A small town and outlying farms was the sum total of its wealth. His elder brother would inherit and their was no love lost between them. As he grew older and his father weaker, he decided to leave and make his own way in the world. He was not a skilled craftsman or a learned professional, but an iron handed man and skillful warrior who did not flinch from danger. In all my life, I only knew one man braver and that was Roaz.

So Tyrel of Broken Rock took to the road with weapons of war and a willingness to shed blood. He was no bandit and was not undiscrimenenting in his choice of causes or employers, but he wasn't too picky either. By the time I met him he was an infamous reaver, a killer with a reputation worse than he deserved. He was also said to be married to his axe, apparently an old joke regarding his chivalrous treatment of several women who he had at his mercy. He wasn't, and isn't, a bad man and I say that knowing him better than most.

And who am I? My father was not a prince, despite what certain bards may say. My family was killed, and there was a dark conspiracy, but it wasn't so great and sinister power. My mother and her lover murdered her husband and buried his body in the woods. They dug the grave too shallow and the wolves got at it. A ranger from the House of Kashen found the body and drove the wolves off. He also noted the body had been dead for a while before the wolves got at it.

It didn't take too long for the investigation to find all sorts of incriminating evidence. They were pronounced guilty and sentenced to hang, my mother's life spared for long enough to deliver me into the world. I became a ward of the House and grew up within its walls.

At that time there was only one House. The House at Lakeside was just a log cabin inhabited by Master Bramble and a few journeymen. The name "The Heroes' Guild" was already around, but only as a sarcastic insult. There are so many myths and misconceptions about our order that I suppose I should take the opportunity to clear them up.

Kashen built his fortress-monestary sometime during the decline and fall of the Old Kingdom. He built it far away from the centers of power and activity, as everything was falling apart and war was everywhere at the time. He lured, black mailed, cajoled, pleaded, and persuaded every man and woman he could find with knowledges or skills worth knowing to join him. A few did.

Magic allowed Kashen and some of his disciples to live for a very long time. Long enough to pass his enterprise over to worthy hands. The House exists to protect and nurture everything that is great about human civilization. As the Old Kingdom fell into ashes and the wilds became dark and dangerous, a few seeds of the old lore survived. Craftsmen were trained who could still produce fine swords and armour, the knowledge of how to treat crop blights and build wind mills was retained. And then there was what got us our name.

Sorcerers and warriors were trained within those walls. The abilities of men and women were developed to their maximum and then they were sent out to fight the dark, aid humanity, enrich themselves, and expand the power of the House. The House of Kashen became the only authority that mattered in its little corner of the world and in due course became the de facto and de jury ruler of High Meadow.

I was not a skilled craftsman or a brilliant scholar. I was, however, a decent shot with a bow and good with weapons in general. I also possessed a signifigant apptitude for sorcery and so was saved from a life pushing a plow. I trained with the spear, the sword, the axe, and the mace. I learned to hit moving targets with a bow and was instructed in a number of simple and effective magics. I learned to run while carrying the weight of armour and to fight while bearing that burden as well.

I also learned to read and write and much medical lore lost elsewhere. I learned how to close wounds with magic and needles and thread as well as how to set bone. I learned the basic treatments for a number of common ailments of man and beast as well as what plants were safe to eat and which were deadly. I learned how to make fire and shelter in the wilderness, how to track game and hide my own trail, and to how to tell if water was safe. The House had trained me as a weapon to tame the outside world and I was eager to do so.

Which is how we met and became the Seven, after nearly getting ourselves killed too many times to count. But I'm getting ahead of myself. The circumstances of my departure from High Meadow have some bearing on the story and really should come next.

I was seventeen and less stupid but more arrogant than most boys are at that age, although at seventeen it is hard to distinguish arrogance from stupidity. I was gifted and knew it. I hungered for acclaim and recognition the same way I hungered to crush enemies and know the bodies of beautiful women. I was, in other words, fairly typical of a young man of the House of Kashen.

It would soon be my time to venture out into the world and I knew it. The expectations of the House were simple: that I go out into the world and make it a better place and that I come back with prizes for the House. The last was usually money, but magic and books were also valued as were weapons and armour. A lot had been invested in us and from us a lot was expected.

I was inspecting the edge of my sword Ironfang on the front grounds when it happened. The house was a sturdy and sprawling building of stone and timber. A short stone wall extending south of it to encompass the ground and the subsidiary building that had sprouted up over time. From the front grounds one could see the road to High Meadow. It was also a place to play and spar that was technically just outside the House. Some people people went on picnics. I was sharpening my sword because it gave me an excuse to be doing something while watching girls.

My sword deserved better than that. Ironfang was a hand and a halfer with a thirty eight inch blade that smoothly tappered to a sharp point. I could wield it with one hand or two, thrusting or cutting. Only the strongest armour could resist my blows. But that was not all.

Ironfang was my althame, a tool of sorcery as well as being a sword. Magic is easier with focus and as magisters had their staves and runethanes their runes, so a mageblade has his weapon. I could do magic without it, but it was easier when Ironfang rested in my hand.

"You moon over that sword like it was your girl," said Charldel. At the time I thought him old although the smith was barely forty. He wasn't tall, but broad across the shoulders with leathery skin and iron hard muscle. He was here for a picnic. His children were playing a game involving a ball that I wasn't watching because I was pretending to be fascinated by my sword and gazing at Gretta.

"I don't have a girl, so I'm stuck with the sword," I replied.

Chardlel laughed at that. "She's too good for you."

"Then why did you make her for me?"

"In hope that you will grow to be worthy of her," he said with a smile. Chardlel had gone out to the world with a hammer and a sword for nearly two years. He had shared craft knowledge, beaten bullies, and left would be bandits and a few monsters dead on the road. He had also found love and brought her back with him to High Meadow. He had brought her back to High Meadow and forged weapons for another generation of intrepid young warriors while raising his family.

"I hope to be."

"It's not always simple out there Thorn," he said. "It can be complicated. The right path isn't always easy to see."

"Have you heard something?" I asked.

"No, no. I don't know that you're to go, but you will soon enough. The world isn't like living in the House. This place is safe in a way that you won't find out there."

"It's not that safe," I replied. "There was a troll this winter and bandits the year before that?"

"And how quickly were they cleaned out? Nothing less than a dragon has much of a chance of establishing itself around here without the House's leave. That ain't true out there. What's a hamlet going to do against a troll? Or a bandit ganged turned warlord? Or the headman deciding he wants someone's daughter and to hell with what she or her family wants? It's different out there. Remember that. And just stabbing the people who seem wrong to you won't always be the best solution."

"Okay," I said trying to keep the skepticism out of my voice. I was smart enough to know that the outside world was different, but I still clung to dreams of glory where the proper amount of violence could solve most problems. What can I say? I was a teenager.

Rumour almost barrelled into me. She was small and slight with long dark haired. Yes, that Rumour. And no, she wasn't that good with a knife. Yet. "Thorn, they want to speak with you," she blurted.

"Who?" I said distractedly. Rumour was all of eleven at the time and thus not very interesting to me.

"The Masters. I think they're going to send you!" she squeeled.

I got up and nodded to Charldel. "Good speaking with you."

"Good luck lad."

"Thanks." I turned back to Rumour, who was dancing from one foot to another. Sendings were a big deal. "Let's go."

Looking good IO. But whp's Gretta?

Ford Prefect wrote:Looking good IO. But whp's Gretta?

A girl he's watching.