Steelmaster (Very Dark Fantasy, Graphic violence)

[The Yosemite Bear]

Crossing the bridge Hellhound heard the pitiful cries of the Elves, it had taken the church years to find the most horrible method of dispatching the creatures, it depended on the Elves religion and mindset. The elves believed that metal torn from the ground was rape, to touch metal would pollute the spirit. The other half was that as long as an elf died touching tree or earth their body and spirit would be absorbed by the earth. The Crow's Cages that lined the Banshee Bridge, was a double form of torcher, the iron cage with it's wicked spikes tormented the Elf's flesh, while the knowledge that their spirit would be trapped forever wandering tormented their minds, the undesolved remains of the pervious Elves added to the effect.

The guardsmen stepped aside as he approched the sheriff's station, no audiance with King, or High Priest was due a commoner slave turned bounty hunter, the hound was the scum of the earth, He had been born illegitamatly, anominously, to a whore in a port city. His youthful crimes he had escaped the wrath of the currupt gaurds until the king decreed a levy. Where he had out ran the gaurds, he did not the pressgang. On the field and after his army's route in the arena, he had become a skilled blade master. He had escaped the pits with an orcish fellow captive. In the time he spent in the hills, and fens with the Orcs, he had learned to master bow, and crossbow, the orcish scimitar, wolf axe, and the lighter nets of the orcish slavers. He had once been their friend Now he collected tusk bounties.

Slamming down his strings of tusk teeth, he grumbled as the guards cheated him out of his fair share of the bounties, Down grading High orc tusks to common, and Orc tusks to goblin, or throwing out the tusks all together, because of some damage to the teeth. He liked to lie to himself, and say it was fair as he never killed members of the clan that had adopted him. He liked to say he was just making it safe for the peasants out on the countryside. The Orcs were more deserving of the lands then his fellow humans he knew, The horror and decadance of the humans would never last under the rule of his once friend Kruell the goreclaw, whose wolf riders he had lived with for three years.
The Sheriff came forward himself, to offer the Hellhound a different line of work.
"Those tuskers just keep breeding, there's no money in Ork bounties, my boy." the sherifff said as he squeezed the mercinary's arm.
"And I suppose you want me to go into Austrell and commit scuicide by Elf?"-The Hellhound replied.
"They offer a silver for a pointy ear, and a gold if you bring one back alive to the Priest's bounty." reducing the printed bounty price by eighty percent, not knowing that the Hellhound could indeed read.
"So, who is this? Fifty thousand silver for the head of a ranger? What did that traitor do?"the Hound deflected him, and tried to show his tormentor that he knew how to read as well.
"Some low borne trash, just a peasant hero, riling things up, give him a good carnifel death, and the crowd will forget about him, and enjoy the show." the Sheriff replied, causing an invisible shiver to run through the hunter's groin, as he recalled the first and last time he had witnessed the executions during a church "Holiday"



Sassala listened to the sounds of the human's penned animals bleating. These sheep now stood corralled where her home forrest had once stood. There was a nasty scare surrounding the hole where what remained of her left ear stood out like the scars on the earth. Pulling back on her father's bow, the elven woman remembered the time fourty springs ago, when the humans had came to her people's land.
The people had always lived under the stars, gathering what they needed, Sassala was a blessed child, her mother was a healer, and wise in the ways of the forrest, and her father was the best bowman of the tribe. Gathering herbs for her mother she was the first to see the fire fall from the sky, and crash into the forrest. The magi, and the witches, along with healers like her mother, tried desperately to save the woods, but humans came with Iron weapons, and numbers greater then any tribe of Elves could match. She had watched in hiding, under a burned out tree, as her mother fell, burned alive by a direct hit from a human catapult. Later as they tried to cross the river near the falls, she watched as wolfhounds, and crossbowmen killed he father and other hunters trying to buy time for the surviours of the tribe, she just couldn't let the hounds eat her father. The elfgirl tried to drag him back as he clutched at his gut wound. That had been her fatal mistake, while she had made it to a bear den his his body, she would be caught by human huntsmen the next day, searching for herbs for a pultice dressing.
The human soldiers had been worse then she could ever have imagined, the iron chains had bound her to the stump of the great hall tree, while the soldiers took turns assulting her, blood was flowing quite freely from both orifaces, one of them had taken an iron knife, and removed her left ear, as a trophy. She swore she would pay the human's back, if only she could get out of this, so that night she lay very still, drifting into a deathlike trance, a few still took some use out of her body, but deciding she was done for they tossed her into the latrine pit.
A few hours, or a lifetime later, the father came out looking for his missing shepperd boy, She was still resting in the twilight, the boy was dead, and the sheep still dying, the Old man had not come alone, three other humans were there. She let her arrow fly, the shot came down, through the top of the farmer's skull, another arrow striking his hand in the eye, the next two were caught in the back as they ran, their wounds weren't immedatly fatal, but they weren't intended to, when ever possible she let the human's suffer, for all the suffering she had endured.



Kruell pointed out the trade caravan, bound to the northmarch kingdoms from the Old Republic. His son Kalzeer was purhaps too smart, the boy had been taught to read by that human, who had once rode with them, The boy, had once ignored the gold, and grain during the sack of a church monestary, to loot the forbidden texts section of the library. The boy had gone on, and on about the siege techniques used by some anchinet king, who ruled the Republic before it was The Republic, but rather just tiny kingdoms. Kruell didn't understand this at all, everyone knew of the republic, it was anchient, only stupid elves claimed that the republic had not always been there to the south, full of riches, that no Orc could ever take. Many tribes had been ground to dust, by the machine like purposefulness of their armies. Kruell and the Hound had been lucky to escape the arena's of the Republic's most lax border outposts.
Kalzeer worried, he had known from the dream that the caravan was comming, he had seen it in the waters of the pool, he kept hidden from the rest of the tribe. Least they think he was weak with his wizardly ways. There he knew the cargo it contained too, the few books, were in the possession of the daughter of the Republic Patrician, to be wed to a Northmarch Noble to ensure some deal. The gold, and Republic fordged weapons would be the real prize, good steel swords,& armour the kind that only Republican craftsmen could make, fire for the anchient lands to the far south. These had been purchased at quite a price to arm the Noble's army against the Elves, and his fellow aristocrats.
The paws of the Worgs were silent at first, soft against the rocks, not thunderously loud like that of the horses. The Orcs, fired their bows' and retreated leaning down and keeping their center of gravity low, as the wolves sped across the broken ground, the much larger mercinary force of the caravan guard, was angry, their calvery forces out stripped the footmen, in a bid to chase after the harrassing Orcs, the wagon's pushed a head trying to flee the battle, and ran right into Kalzeer's party, The young Orc's nets caught the wagon driver's by suprise, just as his bolts tore into the backs of the forces pursuing his father's command, wheeling back, the Orc's fired agian as they retreated, and half of the human force went to pursue them. As an after thought the young Orc grabbed the human as she leaned out to utter words of power.
Lassyndaria saw the carnage unfolding, and fighting with her "maids" she struggled to retieve her much runed wand. kicking the birch to the otherside of the wagon as she leaned out to get a better aim. The strange darkskinned creatures, she knew they were called "Goblins" or "Orcs" were charging back fast, she began uttering the words to bring forth flame, as raw electricity ran the length of the wand. Just then an arm slammed into her midsection, knocking the air from her chest. In oxygen starved slowness she saw the wand fall from her hand, as the rider, pulled her onto his giant dog. Her ankle hit the side of the wagon, twisting it, but she felt no pain, she tried to bite into the creature's leg as it held her while riding, but she was too stunned by the sudden change in the air, as one of the raiders stepped onto her charged wand, the last thing she saw before the blackness was the cow of a hand maid threatening the Orcs, just as the fireball engolfed four riders, and the whole wagon.

Lassyndaria awoke, she was in a dark place, with bubbling springs, remembering where she was, she checked herself, her skull and her midsection hurt, but everything appeared to be inplace. At first she thought that there was some chain attached to her ankle but then she noticed that it was a thick bandage. what ever foul smelling poisons they were using, were sure killing the pain along with all other feeling in that foot. Sensing a disturbance she kicked out, only to connect with solid metal backed by sinue, pain lanced all the way up her leg, as the creature grabbed the injured leg, and pulled it closer to him. almost as if he was reading her mind he responed.
"If I wanted to fuck you, I would have done so by now, and as far as eating you goes, I doubt you would make a good meal, all that wisardry poisons the flesh." the brute responded.
"Then why are you keeping me here?"-She asked
"There's a monestary fortress, nearby, you as a republican noblewoman, can open the way for us. It's not like I was foolish enough to think that the Republic would pay for your ransom, they don't trust Orcs."He replied with more bluntness.
"I didn't know many Orcs could speak the lanugage of the Republic?"
"Few can, and I am the only one I know that can read it, High Runes, Northmarch, and Anchient."He replied with a smirk, besides, your ankle needs some more time to heal, the pultice will leave your skin stained purple, But otherwise it will heal faster.

[Brother-Captain Gaius]

Cool.

Dunno what else to say.

[The Yosemite Bear]

The historical allegories are pretty clear
The Rupublic=Rome, it's shrunk but it hasn't Fallen
Northreach=Europe (Specifically the constantly fueding Darkages kingdoms)
Elves=Indigenous population, that's being driven out by the humans
Orcs=Mongols
Anchients=Alexandrian Greeks


Haven't shown up yet
Dwarves=The Empire never suceeded in conquering the Dwarves, their Northern mountian strongholds, are inassailable. So Northreach has a lot of forts, that denote the borders between civilization and the Dwarves.

[The Yosemite Bear]

Next Chapters comming on the 7th & 9th

Steelmaster-Backstory

History:

First there were the Humans. One group far to the Northwest embraced magic
so thoroughly, it changed them, the food they ate, and the waters and milk
they drank. They became the Elves, nearly immortal and impossibly
awe-inspiring, such was the strength of their Glamours.

To the south, Humans made beer, worked tools, and tamed animals, taking some
of everything yet never mastering the full secrets. These were the common
humans. To the East the brutal climate allowed the cousins of men to
thrive. Just as in our own world where the Neadrathals and Cromags lived
together competing so did Orcs and Man. To the North was a race of beings
known as Dwarves. Twisted by their tight tunnels, ever working in their
underground lairs, the Dwarves built up extensive networks, and siege craft
in their halls beneath the Earth.

The Elves remained mostly static hunter-gatherers, focusing on remaining in
nature, and using their magic to preserve it. The other more energetic
cultures expanded, the Orcs Moving West, the Humans moving North and the
Dwarves moving deeper. The Ancients expanded north until they met the
Elves. So enamored by their beauty they ceased to move north and instead
headed East, overwhelming the orcs. The expansion continued until the Humans
in their arrogance sought to be immortal like the Elves and created their
own downfall.

The last great king of the ancients was the first eternal king of night. He
was the first to build himself a palace to rule after he was gone, to create
guardians that would last the centuries, and to attempt to steal in death
the immortality the Elves had in life. Having died of plague following a
great siege of an Orcish tribe, the king's body was prepared, his Harem was
entobed alive so that they might serve his carnal needs in his undeath. A
new moon later the king arose as the first Vampire, and his harem came forth
as the first ghouls. City-states rose and fell while the darkness that was
the Undead continued.

One of the provinces of the Kingdoms of the ancients arose as a Republican
City State; it's ever-vigilant warriors earning their citizenship through
service in the army. The Army kept the city safe from the nighttime
attacks, and so the Republic branched out, slowly and inexorably conquering
all that had been the domain of the ancients. They again Moved Northward, &
Southward, conquering the territories forgotten by all, until they breached
the halls of the Dwarves. The savage little men swarmed out from below, in
numbers and ferocity, using weapons of war unconcieved by the men. The
erratic rockets, thundering booms of their muskets, and carnage of their
grenades shattered the proud Legions of the Republic, causing the High
Senator to build a series of fortresses to hold the Dwarves at bay. The
Republic would expand no further than the northern reaches.

Over centuries the Republic pulled back, collapsing under the weight of its
bureaucracy. Giving their governor's more and more autonomy until the
Northreach area became a series of rival kingdoms. Still The Republic was
the center of trade, and culture. The priests of the Republic continued to
hold great sway over the populace. What people did not know was that the
Republic was corrupt to the core. The priests had not eliminated the
Undead, they thrived in the catacombs beneath the Cities of the Republic,
and they controlled the priesthood and the Senate with promises of eternal
life for the elite.

Seeking once again the power of the elves the Undead pulled their strings
creating the church's holy crusade against the elves. This War at first
took the elves wholly by surprise, but their counter attack was awful, and
using their spies and Glamours they pitted the fractious kingdoms of
Northreach against one another to gain time, While the Elves can not match
the humans in sheer numbers, the common foot soldiers are easily beguiled by
the illusions of the Elves, and thus the war continues as atrocity is
responded with atrocity. While humans will rape and burn, whole villages
will wake in the morning to find all of their children gone, lured off some
cliff by the haunting melody of Elven pipes.



The Cultures

Northreach: The Principal Culture of the story, Northreach is a former
providance of the Republic, now existing as a very suspicious factitious
fudeal society. Robber knights are very common, the folk believe Elves and
witches are responsible for their misfortune. Peasant heroes (really just
bandits with good PR skills), rise up all of the time.

The Republic: Has ruled humanity longer then any, save the elves can
recall, few know that the Republic is really ruled from behind the scenes by
the Undead.

The Orcs: Hunters, Herders, Raiders, they inhabite the Fell Marshes, the
Foothills, and the badlands where humans rarely go. Mostly at war with each
other, the humans frequently ignore them. Their numbers are greatly
enhanced by the use of the "Broodcreatures"

Dwarves: Rarely encountered, masters of steel and Technology, only the
great masters of the Republic come a distant second in forging quality tools
and weapons.

Elves: Hate the use of metal, particularly iron, as it is the bane of
magic. Exist as basic hunter-gatherers, it is the magic, food and drink
that make the elves immortal, and otherwise they are identical to humans.
(Though neither race will admit that, and both take such comparisons as an
insult)

The Undead: Basically come in two classes Vampires (the Masters), and
Ghouls (the servants). Ghouls have great strength but can easily be slain.
The Vampires can only die from being burnt to death, or by being
decapitated. (Although some of the oldest can survive the latter), Both
classes do not like direct sunlight. Ghouls are weakened by it, and
Vampires find it fatal. (Again the oldest of Vampires aren't so easy to
kill)


Magic:
In the world of Steelmaster, magic is a greatly elemental force, very
similar to electricity. Items can be made to hold magical energies (Wands,
staves, talismans and such), magic can be dispersed by being grounded (Thus
why Iron gates, or a circle of iron filings makes a good barrier against
Magics. A knight covered head to toe, in iron or steel cannot be affected
by magic directly (The majority of levied troops can be since they are not
so equipped). Most magic seems to be directed to harnessing elemental
forces, changing the state of things, or creating powerful illusions.

Broodcreatures: A form of Orcish magic, involves potions, to make deadly
poisons, or to speed healing at a cancerous rate. One of these more
disgusting applications is the Broodcreature. Used as a punishment for
disobedient Orcish women, or against any human females captured in a raid,
the potion transforms the woman into a mindless creature that only exists to
have as many Orcish children as possible. The children born through such
slaves are weaker then normal Orcs, often creating the distinction of High
and Low Orcs.

[The Yosemite Bear]

In his dreams Hellhound could feel it.
Comming North, Comming for him, Comming for the elves.
He could smell the decay stench of the creature.
He could now see it's features. Rough hewn leather kept the creatures head fully attached where his gladius had cut deep into the monster's neck. Hellhound instinctively knew that the leather that held the creature together had once been human.
The Chilling voice, chilled him to his marrow
"You shall serve me slave, you will one way on another."

Cold sweat covered the bounty hunter.
It was a dream, it was reality.
The fear chilled his blood to the very marrow.
The Scream was echoed not just by his voice but by others.



The creature entered Kreull's dreams as well, he didn't trust that human that his son had brought back from the caravan raid. Twice he had sent over a flagon of Brood toxin. Better for his son to get it over with, humans could only bring trouble. For a moment he regretted banishing his friend Hellhound, he was afraid that the human's ways would currupt his Clan. Kruell now knew that the worst had happened, the creatures were comming, Orcish arrows, and nets would do nothing to these creatures, only cutting off their heads, and burning them would kill them. Like his people they loved the dark. except they were better in it then his people. Even in his tent he could still smell the creatures scent of Decay. Searching his possessions for the weapon, where was that cursed priest's dagger!

At the fist sound of the Curfew Bells the monks found a strange sight at their gates, a woman, in torn Republican clothes, bruised and cut. The scared woman trembled as the monks minsitered to her the best they could. She was frightened, but not brainless like so many women that had been captured by the fell creatures. Their necromantic alchemy used moonblood, orcseed, and a series of venoms. If the poisones didn't destroy their minds then surely the horrors and rapes that followed did.



The Ghost took her time, preparing her bow for her next kill. The humans must pay, for the darkness they had caused. The death of many of her people, and her own personal hell. She needed to hurt them, hurt as many as she could. Still there was one human settlement that she would never hunt near. She remembered almost vaguely waking up in the cesspit, she could not remember crawling out of it, or the long journey she made. The next thing she did remember fully, was a pair of human women, midwives, a crone and her young apprentice. A cold salve covered her body, draining away the fever, other medicines had been inserted into her lower regions, fighting the diseases the humans had left her with at their source. a few years later when she was strong enough, she departed from the two women for a time. Infrequently she would return to the two women, they had changed hands twice now, the Apprentice was now on her second charge, her first having been carried off by a robber barron. She was never seen during her visits, she would only drop some food, and the occasional trade bundle. Her repayments would never solve all of her debt to the Healer's. So in her quest for revenge the women were to be spared.



The Caravan made slow progress northward, they had to keep the nature of the cargo secret, yet traveling as they did they had to also provide food for his minions. The wounds from the catacombs some Ten years ago. The two gladiator slaves were doomed to die, becoming gaurdian undead. The human had DARED to stab his minion priest with his own soulstealing blade. Gaining the priest's knowlege of langauge, and of the undead. The two then descended into the caverns knowing that the republic's legions would not follow them. Using their gladius swords they cut down many of his servantile ghoula, finally he confronted the two slaves, almost loosing his head in the process. Repairing the damage from those two had done to his colony. They would be broken, turned to his slaves. He knew that his searches for the soulblade, was haunting the dreams of many, but he could not find it. Whoever had his weapon knew secrets of necromancy.

[LT.Hit-Man]

I am impressed with this fan fic.
Keep up the good work.
LT.Hit-Man

[The Yosemite Bear]

Osiris fired another bolt, the missle missed the bounty hunter, and grazed the flanks of one of his wargs bringing out a yelp from the giant wolf. His sister was preparing to meet the hunter with her blade. Things had been a lot simpler when they had been the children of a failed actor, dressing up and robbing the robber knights, and the overfed merchants.

Nemisis brought her long stabbing blade up before the oncoming pack, hoping to dismout the rider, by killing the beast. the hunter and his wolves were too smart for that, He launched a bolo net from his wolf-sling the net wrapping around her, with their hooks ripping into the birdseed padding that protected her, and gave her a masculine appearance, for their activities.

The just as Osiris readied antoher bolt the main wolf let out a yelp, and the hunter toppled something was wrong with his leg. In a panic the wargs turned to face a new foe, another fell down with an arrow in his eye. The wolves smelled their enemy, they knew they had no chance, fleeing they could still track the two human prey. Osiris walked over to free his sister when an arrow struck him piercing his hand and shattering his crossbow.

The Ghost looked at her prey, a human riding wolves had been chasing after two other human prey. She had been deciding which foe was the better prey, Her intervention had saved the pair, but she couldn't allow the humans to continue freely as long as one could pose a threat to her. With a single arrow she eliminated that danger, crippling that human in the process. She watched as the two left her territory, tracking them she observed as they stole two horses and traveled north.




The fortress/Monestary was an excellent base for her new plans in the north. The younger orc had been so willing to earn her trust that he had showed the dagger to, her. She had imedatly recognized it as a weapon of a priest of the Underlord. Her studies in magic had only touched slightly into Necromancy, but these simple creatures, and these foolish monks would soon become her new army, tired of being a pawn or a commodity, she could become a power in this forsaken land. She had killed a few that had tried to force themselves on her, taking their knowledge of the fortress with their lives.




The Priest looked with horror upon the creature that was his master. as it screamed and raved in a grotesquely sexual manner.
"YES!, some fool, has used my WEAPON!"- I can sense it to the EAST, in the Orcish lands!"
"My master?, we have word on the bounty hunter, he is seeking out two bandits, we have reason to believe he may be injured." the priest exclaimed hoping to get some reward from the creature.
"You DISTURB ME!, I nearly had the exact location!" the creature growled ripping the priest's neck open with his talons.after lapping up the priest's spilled blood. afterwards the creature tracked down a member of the Warrior caste of the priesthood.
"I want you to send your men into the Orcish lands, the weapon that will make your order strong, is hidden in there."




The Ghost considered her options, the forces of nautre told her, that winter was comming, soon, battles fought in this time would be hard on man and beast, if the snows did not kill them, then surely the wounds would kill the menaces.

[Kelly Antilles]

Very good, YB. A few gramatical things that caught me offguard, but the story is great.

[The Yosemite Bear]

Yes, I know my spelling and my grammer need a lot of work...

I really miss my wordprocessor, it doesn't like XP for some reason?

[LT.Hit-Man]

Yes, I know my spelling and my grammer need a lot of work...

I really miss my wordprocessor, it doesn't like XP for some reason?

This might help
http://users.erols.com/fwcetus/cwordpad.htm

[Falkenhorst]

hey colin, when will we see more of this fic? You haven't been on AIM lately...

[The Yosemite Bear]

The earth quaked with the force of the siege engines and the

Hoof beats of the Republic's horses. Heavy Calvary, light lancers,

Catapults, Scorpions, & Rams were assembling for the winter campaign.

Only the Iron Rod ballista that were set aside for piercing dwarven

war machines or conducting terror campaigns against the Elves were to

Be left behind, the Orc infested lands to the east there would be

Little need when a scorpion could just as adequately sunder the walls.



Gazing into the Pool, Hellhound considered his options.

Brining back the two bounties wouldn't get him silver, but rather a

Nice high perch to watch as other's died a speedier death. He knew

The fiend was waiting back for him in the cities, He knew the monster

Would draw out his death for years, helpless given just enough of the

Blood of the damned not to expire, while master inquisitor's worked

Their craft on him, and spared vision out of at least one eye, so that

He could bare witness to the hell around him. There was one option

Open to him, but he could never survive alone.

He smelled the stench of disease when he entered the cave, it

Was shelter, but the girl's skills did not include magic, or enough

Skill in healing. Even with his magic the boy's arm would have to go,

He realized. She still had her sword pointed at his heart, like she

Thought she could protect her brother from the "Lord of the Black

Hunt" himself, not just his mortal emissary.
Calling on his pact he spoke, eye's glowing "put down that TOY

Before I am forced to hurt you child!", the girl dropped her sword,

Clattering to the ground reflexively as if it was a burning coal.
Knelling over the boy, he grumbled and shook his head, not

Really worth the effort, but even these two kids could be good tools

For his mission. The nameless words of ancient came from his mouth,

As his burning hands purged the poisons from the boy's body. That

Which was already dead, would need to be removed, but the child would

Eventually recover. However another would have to die for this gift.

Walking over to the mother Warg her wounds now well on the mend he

Touched her, transferring the poison from the boy to her. She fell to

Her side, belly bloated with fever, and began to slowly die.
"Your brother will live now, but the price will be steep." He

Echoed, snapping her out of the spell he had imprisoned her with.
"Why, so they can slowly hang him, or make him beg for mercy

While his bowels bake in the sun?"
"I am a Hound of the Hunter, I offer you two a place in my

Pack. By joining me you will be damned and feared, but he won't die

Under any other's control, nor will you be flogged and sold as a

Slave."
"We could still get captured."
"The reason they never capture "Huntsmen" alive is because

What they would do to us is far, far worse."


Kruell, could not believe it, his son had betrayed him, and

Joined that CREATURE in the old fortress castle, he watched as he

Gathered his forces to oppose the impossible juggernaut that was the

Republic's military. Their close formations, heavy Armour, and wooden

Shields would stop the short bows of his clan, their Javelin's and

Loose shot from their siege weapons would break even the mobile wolf

Riders, there was little that could stop the carefully timed machine.

Knowing that he was doomed, the Orc Chieftain still choose to make an

Abortive night time raid to the enemy's fortress camp, it was a clean

Death, not like what the monsters had planned for him.


Sassala heard her name being spoken on the wind, someone was

Calling her through her bow, they had one of her arrow shafts, and was

Calling to her through magic. In her dreams she sensed it. The dream

Was different, the forest was in winter, before her stood a man

Dressed in the Wolf cloak of death, the Hunter. Chilled by the sight

Before her, She approached ready to do battle. Realizing at her

Reflection that she was a whole elven maiden in the Battle armor of

The Stag lord incarnation.
"As I am an agent of the Jaeger, so are you. The humans and

The elves both know him, to the Orcs he is the "wasted one, Castrated,

And broken like no Orc ever wants to be. Death is coming to the

Northlands, Death shall stalk the cities, and many humans shall burn."
"Why do you bother me, Human!" She replied with a snarl
"I need you to make for me blades to kill the Undying. Surely

We can agree on that."
"Don't trust your kind, human, I am only sorry, I missed you."
"Then we shall face again Ghost Stag, and we shall discover

Whom the carrion crow shall pluck the eye's from."
"Be gone then Wolf! Your kind sells its loyalty to humans

And Orcs, and Cheaply at that!"

[The Yosemite Bear]

Lysandaria snuggled against Kazeer's great chest, in the close confines of the tent mostly for warmth, and also out of fear. Ever since they had escaped the monestary out the secret ways their party of Orcs had traveled in fear. The Republic had sacked and torched the keep, the monks and the orcs who had been left behind were given the indignaty of an exceedingly drawnout and painfull demise. Their souls bound to their rotting bodies, so that even in death there was no escape from the torcher. Nightly the priests of the Wasted One the shadow lord, sent images out to her, to find her. They showed her visions, her chained being hauled along with other slaves, the hot stones of the streets blistering her naked feet, as she was brought before the judgement, to be flogged, raped again and again, and finally to be branded and given to the preists of the wasted so that her babies would feed the under rulers.

"Visions again?" here I give you a tale of the Wasted One's enemy amoung the servants of death. a story of the ever hungry wolf.


The Past
The midwife had seen wars before, but the aftermath was where her business boomed, veterens with their excesses in victory, or trying to forget the bad with oblivion, children concieved when the father returned from campaign, and the un-recognized bastards of the warbooty. This morning she saw another sign of war, an Elf girl, too young to be in her predicament. The child's appearance told the dark tale, her right ear was a ragged infected stump, cut off when the conqurer's thought she had died on them. Her body burned with fever from contact with corpse soil, and with the vengence of the jelious goddess of passions, her belly was full of her rapist's seed, but not yet ripe.

She placed oils and herbs on the elf girl, fed her, and tended her wounds, as the child began to eat like a starved beast, the swell continued to grow, freakishly offsetting the small size of the child of the "Eternal People". Something kept the elf girl going, she pushed through even though the midwife was sure the poor thing would pass on, while delivering such a burden. But something kept her going, as the child continued to repeat the elven mantra to the White Hart, the winter stag was their primative's concept of death, the prayer for the hunt was his calling. After the birth, both mother and son, looked as pale as a pair of ghosts, The mother never held the child, nor recognized it's existance, leaving it's care to that of a half wolf bitch who lived as the midwife's guardian...

As he grew up, the half wild child of the one they call "The Ghost Elf" became a skilled hunter, and dealer of death. It was no suprise that the young lord's men came for him to be part of his ill fated move to take land from his neighbor, it was no suprise that amoung those defeated soldiers The "Wolfhound" was given the special honor of being sent to the Republic's capitol to serve in their "Great Games" There he began to wear the mask of death, and excel in the brutal "Sport" violence was the one thing the child knew well. Rumors amoung the Orcish prisoners sent to be fodder for the games, and those who cared for the nightmare monsters began that he was the child of "Hel" the bitchqueen. His popularity grew such that the priests of the Wasted one, sought to turn him into one of the "unsleeping" guards of their great temple. It was said that that evening, the Hellhound was born. "He slaughtered the priests, freed my father who was to be their sacrefice, he removed the heads of the undying and tossed them into the temple fires. he walked like a god. You see, the wasted one is weak before the fury of the hungry wolf. And the last thing many of the Underlord's preists saw, was my father's friend, sharp ears, ghostly white skin and hair, and blazing eyes."



Ghost didn't dream, but occassionally she went into a "resting state" but even then she was always alert. It was another sending from the human from the previous fall. He shouldn't be able to send visions unless he had something of her. And no humans alive had anything of hers... ...resting she remembered the midwife who had saved her from the fever, there was something she didn't want to remember, something vile.

"oh lord of the hunt, I offer this life to your goals, take it, and let it grow to be strong, and sure death, so that others may strive, and that it's prey need not suffer overly."- The Hart's blessing went through her head, as she selected another human to kill. She remembered how her huntsman father had offered her baby brother to the Hart in a cymbolic ceramony when he was born before The humans came, and shatted his skull against one of the great tree's before they felled those too. She remembered the corral, the log pen where the elven children of a certain age were kept. She passed by it as they dragged her along, she had faught too well, and now they were going to "Break her" before she would be sold like the other elves.



An abandoned mine within the Dwarflands
Hellhound looked down at the small pool of his blood, as it burned to smoke consumed by the forces of magic. His hosts didn't like magic at all, dwarves were strange that way... Still the played out mine, besieged by creatures from below made a good place for the lord of the wolves... There we're four incarnations of Death, The oldest being The great black bird, then the White Stag that the elves personified death as. Then came the misunderstood Wolf and finally the cheating and parasitic "wasted man" The last being the patron of the Undying and known as the underlord. The Undying had upset the ballance long ago, The master of the Republic, represented the Wasted one in a physical sense, his greed for life, had brought about so much destruction, the descimation of the elves, creating the Vengence minded bitch that was his mother, and by her own curse created himself, half human, half eternal, half wild, half tame, torn forever between two existances and never liking either.

His senses detected her approch in the dark, her sounds betrayed her long before her lamp warned of her comming before she could see around the bends, the dim glow of the rocks provided enough vision for dwarves, and those with dark adapted eyes.
"What did I say about disturbing me when I was down here by myself!" he called out his eye's glowing from the deeper pools of the darkness.

"Sorry my master," his apprentice shivered as she spoke. "but our host, the Lord Havok requested that I find you at once."
that Havok had approched her said a lot about the seriousness, The Heritical Prince of Norreach, had a distain for women, and their company, seeing them as only good for reproduction, and since he had misunderstood the relationship between the hunt's priest and his apprentice, the Dwarven raised exile had ignored her entirely. Still the Alchemist's healing skills had saved the boy, who now wore a dwarven crafted arm in place of his flesh and blood. The thaw must have came, it must be time for them to travel into the orclands. He hoped that Kazeer appreciated the offer, they four would supply him with enough to become the greatest scurge of the Orcs in exchange for placing Havok on his father's throne.

[The Yosemite Bear]

This is not necromancy it's just been over a year and a half since I wrote anything...

[fgalkin]

Very nice. Its vaguely resemblant of Nick Perumov's "Diamond Sword, Wooden Sword" in the setting (a proto-Roman human empire has coquered all of the non-humn races). The atrocities on both sides are very similar, too.

Have a very nice day.
-fgalkin

[LadyTevar]

Very well done, Bear... I only just found this, so I don't mind the necromancy

[The Yosemite Bear]

It's not necromancy if you have something usefull to contribute....

[Lindar]

*grins* I like it Bear. Some of it seems sad, but I like it that way.*hugs* you're going to continue on it then?

[The Yosemite Bear]

that seems to be my intent

although due to computer fuzzyness I just lost something I was typing earlier today.... Grrr.

[Lindar]

*pats soothingly* Awww! I'm sure that you'll figure some of what was lost out again. That or come up with something even better.

[The Yosemite Bear]

Simple timeline and ages of characters....

The underlord: unkown, well over a thousand years at this point, a very ghoul/vampire esq creature.

The Lord's Champion: The church "Paladin" who is the underlord's personal instrament of policy and fear. Granted a very long life by his master, is believed to be over 3 centuries old.

Ghost >100, note due to magic, elves develop slower, and gestate longer then humans, but are genetically nearly identical to them. Elves reach full maturity around 150 years. (Ghost's actual age is unknown, however she was under that 150 year mark when her home was invaded by the humans some fifty years before.

Hellhound: Near fifty, given that the destruction of the elven forest was fifty years ago, elven gestation is over a year in length.

Kruell: <Deceased>: Orc, was in his fourties,

Lord Havok: 30's, raised by dwarves, remember's seeing Hellhound fight in the great games when he was younger

Khazeer: Orc late teens to early twenties.

Lysandaria: Human, of wedable age within the Republic at that time (which would make her a teenager)

Nemesis: Late teens, daughter of an actress/prostitue, and a former Republican foot soldier.

Osiris: virtually the same age as Nemesis, currently Lord Havok's apprentice/lover. (what you didn't figure that out)

[The Yosemite Bear]

Steelmaster: fire and rain

The earth shook, as the thunder claps broke above, The great army of the Republic even in decline wasn't bothered by a little weather. However as the townspeople fled and the summer skies remained clear the chance it was a storm of a natural origin. For two years an orcish chieftain had fled before the might of the Republic, into the mountains. Now the Army was back as rumors that the orcish warlord had return this time with strange allies. Now in the distance black smoke came to view, as if there was a great fire somewhere nearby, the soldiers closed lines, and prepared to face their foe. Now they knew that the thunder was indeed from Orcish drums and the shaking ground was untold numbers of green and tar black feet stomping in unison, in the distance man and beast pulled up engines of destruction, however the army had their own weapons to make short work of the enemy.

Now coming into view were the was the enemy army, the Wolf riders ran about scouting ahead, and reporting back, now within sight the enemy stopped before the gates, now the smoke grew thicker, and the sound of thunder peals rang out, soon they were joined by a slow moving baleful red lightning, the auxileries manning the walls could see the ballista like darts propelled by flame coming forward. Now the exploding stones fired from their strange smoke powered "onager" or trebuchet rained down, a lethal rain that rocked the stones of the towers breaking them. Upon command the soldiers locked their shields together above them, the dart shattered above the town walls sending pellets of leaden shot came down at first stripping the hide, then splintering the wood, finally piercing flesh and bone below. Others field to explode as designed and buried themselves into the roofs of houses, causing fires.

Now the Orcs began to bellow and cheer as the armored wagons approached, like a battering ram, instead the juggernaughts were made of steel, with heavy smoke belched from their backs, and at once they rolled backwards as their siege weapons fired directly at the gates and the wall. Archers and siege crews watched as their deadly missile were deflected off the metal surfaces of the enemy war machines. Soldiers fell from the battlements, as the whole walls shook from the impacts.


Lord Havok's camp.
It had only been a reserve garrison, the first of many, but it had been a good test, many of the town's folk had already fled as the rumors of orcish hoards had been allowed to proceed them. Still the slaughter had been an adequate test of his designs. Casualties had been acceptable, many of the rocket crews had died consumed by flames and unstable chemicals, unfortunately one launch in twenty still misfired when the torch was applied, the juggernauts were another matter, the crews were in much worse condition, all had been deafened, a number would die as the black smoke from the engine or from the weapon had robbed them of their breath, which now came in wracking coughs as they spat out blood mixed with pitch, one of the vehicles had cracked an axel from the strain of firing tumbled, and all had died the fires still burning too hot for one to recover the weapon.
Lord Hellhound arrived his was obscured by a filthy cloth, simular masks adorned the other wolf calvary. They were not wearing the death-mask helms that their patron Lord Havok had designed for them.
"Hellhound, were are your skull helms, their metal will protect your head, better."
"because you can't breathe around your wagons and juggernauts." Hellhound spoke as he removed the wet black fabric tossing it into a lump, his pale angular face contrasted with the blackness of his skin and hair where the smoke from the engines had touched him during the battle.
Havok looked down at the lump as a moment of recognition flashed before him, "That was the Easter Silk Cape I gave you!"
"yeah if you soak it in piss and wine first you can at least breath through it. looks like Silks the only material that's fine enough to protect one from the smoke, my lord you might want to consider opening up the juggernuaghts up to the air some more, and getting masks like this for their crews." Hellhound replied, making the the suggestion seem like it was going to be one of Lord Havok's 'Ideas' even though he had already had every last piece or silk confiscated from the town's merchant's sector and dispersed along with extra kegs of wine to the artillery crews first.



Hellhound's command post
Nemesis waited dressed in the death-mask armor of one of Lord Hellhound's calvary, none of the orc troops coming back from the looting had recognized her gender, which she considered most fortunate, With all the fires and knowledge of the Orcish tendencies the survivors of the town could only look forward to a grisly end, men to the mines and later the stew-pots, women would be drugged and raped until their minds were gone, and their bodies changed to receive the Orcish seed. No group of humans had ever commanded such a large group of orcs, the only thing that orcs hated more then each other, and then humans were elves. Which her musings thought prophetic as she thought about Hellhound, and the paradox of how he seemed to understand and was respected by these creatures for his harshness, mixed with the shock of his appearance.

In a private thought she recalled the first time she had seen him outside his armor in the cave they had wintered in. Tall and wiry though still powerful, his eyes in the dark seemed blazing red, most of the hair was gone from his head, covered instead by ancient scars, someone had taken a blade to his face as well, making him look more skull like. she saw how he applied flame to the wound in his own leg, the poisons burned up, leaving a redding, which healed to a small scar against his deathly pale skin. As intimidating he was in his armor he was more frightening up close and without it. Still something about the former bounty hunter attracted her.

Her thoughts about her master we're interrupted by problems again with the erst while allies of Lord Havok. Hellhound had demanded that certain loot be kept by the army for operational use, particularly controlling the flow of alcohol, which was needed for fuel, weapons, healing, as well as for troop use. This was not popular among the Orc mercenaries, from time to time it had fallen on the Death Masks to enforce that edict, with a sudden motion her clockwork armor launched a dagger blade outward piercing the keg that was being purloined. The machines released their tension allowing her greater strength then she naturally possessed. Selecting the largest of them moving with efficient, and precise motion she severed half his neck showering his comrades in his blood, as the large orc attempted to hold his life in as it slipped and sprayed between his fingers, breath coming out as a drowned gurgle, alive as he collapsed aware that his death was inevitable. Years of pretending to be a young man, continued as she spoke in her Alto voice commanding the troops to do as they had been ordered. There was only so long as they could maintain this army, they would need new soldiers soon, ones that would obey them out of fear or loyalty. Hopefully, the policy of driving the desperate to the cities would pay off, a large city with defenders to defeat, and then turn into a base of future operations.

[The Yosemite Bear]

PS any comment's on Lord Havok's Magi-tech?

ps how well would a god denying, alchemist, warlord do in Warhammer universe anyways?

[Lindar]

I liked the silk idea*nods* nice.

[The Yosemite Bear]

think of it in rome total war terms.

they have one hell of a barbarian mercinary army, but no cities of their own, they have looted a series of small towns (RTW equicalent of forts) on the border, and are approching the first RTW settlement. Odds are that those mercs not killed in the assualt will only be kept around long enough to pacify, and convert the population.