Giantslayer - Battle of Bloodmarch Hill (IC)

[forg99rules]

http://s10.postimg.org/c670h8hqh/banner2.png
http://s28.postimg.org/5hdr5otnh/banner2.png
http://s10.postimg.org/c670h8hqh/banner2.png
[The Traveling Caravan: Volsung/Cornelius/Ilvaria]
Having been riding with the Caravan for several days Everyone is filled with Joy at the sight of the town. Coming up to the gates causes quite a stir as Trunau has only a single gate, The gate is built to overlap the stones to either side, allowing the rock of the hill to reinforce it against battering rams. Atop each rock stands a wooden watchtower large enough for a dozen defenders to fire bows or pour boiling water down on attackers from relative safety. Both to intimidate the orcs and to guard against fiery arrows, the towers’ sides and roofs are armored with the shields and breastplates of orcs who’ve assaulted the walls and died, their various clan symbols prominently displayed. Several Merchants can be heard whispering under their breath how barbaric it is to display fallen soldiers armor that way. Upon entering the town there is a sense of Jubilation filling the air, you can't help but smile as you know something fun is going to be happening today.

An elderly woman steps up to the caravan "Ahhh goodie travelers, Welcome to Trunau you arrived at the perfect time. We are celebrating the Twelfth birthday of our Chiefs youngest Daughter Ruby. It might not sound like a big deal to you travelers but for us in this town it is one of the biggest days of your life. Come now let us head on up to the Commons and join in the festivities." The elderly woman starts heading towards the Commons not sparing a glace back at the Caravan as she expects that after a long travel that some food and drink would be well wanted.

[The Rambling House: Negruda/Lucan]
Jubilation fills the evening air in the normally staid town of Trunau, for it is the twelfth birthday of the Chief Defender’s youngest daughter, Ruby, and the townsfolk have been preparing all day for the ceremony and festivities to follow. As everyone starts heading towards the Commons Cham Larringfass is ensuring that everyone in the Rambling House is headed there themselves.

As she walks past Negruda's Room she knocks on the door "Sir I don't know if you heard or not but we are Celebrating The Chiefs youngest daughters Birthday at the Commons, You are more than welcome to join us in celebrating her birthday." After having said her piece she starts making her way to the door to head out her self. Passing by Lucan she gives him a smile "You should make your way to the Commons also Lucan don't wanna be late for Ruby's Hopeknife Ceremony." Cham doesn't wait for his reply as she hurriedly heads out the door to make sure she makes it to the Commons on time.
http://s10.postimg.org/c670h8hqh/banner2.png

[Dark Hawk799]

Ceremony? Wonder what she was talking about.
Due to Neg's new nature to town he doesn't really know much about this ceremony, let alone what occurs during it. His curiosity gets the better of him and he hops up chasing after his fellow halfling.

[Man on Fire]

Ilvaria was observing the town they were approaching with a mixture of relief and worry. Part of her was happy to finally see a place where they should receive a warm welcome, a civilized enclave i nthe middle of these barbaric lands. But the other was calmly reminding her that a Drow might not receive warm welcome after all, even if she is wearing symbol ofRagathielon herneck. The sight of orc armors, left on display as a warning, did not ease her worries any bit. She started to wonder how even such a place can exist in the middle of Orc kingdom and how it came to be at all. The friendly welcome, better, invitation to the party, however, managed to lessen her worries a bit.
"Your invitation is a great honor for me, madam." She says, doing a small, but elegant bow, then follows elderly lady.

[♠Spade♠]

"Okay, Cham. I'll be right along shortly." Lucan said to her retreating back. First though, he stopped back into the kitchen to check on things. A dash of spices added to this pot, move that pan a little farther from the flames, make sure the produce is ready for slicing, and he was ready to go. Exiting the kitchen, he made his way outside and started heading towards the commons.

[Mornings]

Volsung Grógaldr - The Raging Tempest

It was a dry and arid wind. The kind of breeze that dried the lips and skin. The kind of breeze that cracked the bled the soft and pampered skin of those who did not venture the vast expansive stretches of dusty badlands which reached out further then men could see. This wind, was like the land - Stiff and unforgiving. The kind of air which hard men would breath. The kind of air that would choke the parched throats of the lesser men. The harsh gleam of a blazing sun in a cloudless sky rained down an unforgiving wave of searing light, lessened and made tolerable by nothing save for shade of the shade provided by the merchant's tan oiled canvas, which lay tightly thatched down to the curved wooden beams of the far traveled wagons. The heavy wooden wheels were seated in a band of dented and rugged steel, yet still they groaned in protest as the large horses pulled their burden forward across the unpaved rocky trails. This was not a place of comfort, nor safety. These were savage lands, untamed and bustling with wild men and beasts. Still, like all men who ventured this far from the wards of the civilized realms - He had been called here.

The man who joined the caravan during an unexpected, yet short stop in Freedom Town didn't bother giving a name. As most souls to be found, claiming 'drifted' was enough. What stories a man crawling out from Freedom Town carried were best left to rest. Criminals, mercenaries, cutthroats and worse called the place home and a man had enough worries to keep him occupied without complicating matters further with the troubles of some nameless stranger. It was better that way.

The Doppelsoeldner had made due speaking little during the vast length of the trip. The giant of a man leered over those around him, so he remained seated. Garbed in simple ragged robes and cowl, he was odd and made twice more suspicious while attempting to remain unassuming. Nothing about the massive figure was normal, but with consideration to the strange patrons which the caravan had picked up on the way - no one asked any questions. It was simply an odd trip.

The man had never seen an elf with black skin, nor had he ever heard of such a thing. Likely, it was too much of the damned sun. He'd taken to donning a cowl to shield himself from the harshness of the heat as well and still his skin had begun to darken a shade. The large man wondered if he too would eventually come to be cursed with ebon skin should he remain in this damned place for longer then any sane man should. How any sane man braved this wilderness and sweltering heat, he'd never know. He knew of cold - the chill of frozen tundra and rime slick earth. This was a far cry from the world he knew. He wasn't sure if the people were simply odd, or if it was himself. There was far too much he didn't know, far too much filling this strange world. It wasn't as simple as the lash of a whip, nor defined as the familiar metallic scent of rusting iron bars. The world outside a cage was frightening and complex, this he had acknowledged to himself many years ago. Yet, he was but a simple man of simple means, the depth of man's rhyme and reasons intertwined with the intricacies of morality, logic and philosophy were lost upon him. He didn't need to know, perhaps he didn't want to - he did what felt right. He didn't need to question why, that nonsense was best saved for the soft-palmed librarian or wizard. All he needed to know what was right was the weight of steel in his hand - the gods would show him the rest. That was all, there was nothing else.

He unbundled the torn rags from around his possessions, shaking the dirt and dust of the long road behind him. He took a rough prickly cloth out as he produced a large bluish steel plate from the sack. It was caked with a dark, almost black gory stain. The Golden Hands ...Or whatever they were called, were unwise in thinking they could overcome him with their numbers. Freedom Town was a wild and lawless place, so men did as they pleased. They burned, and stole, and killed drunk on their own power. But without law, nor structure, there was no man to defend them. So he didn't hold back. He ripped men of limbs, drove steel into their hearts and crushed bone beneath his fist. Death was all too common upon the frontier, but to be reminded of their own vulnerability was a lesson the thieving criminals would not soon forget... He spit in the cloth and begun to scrub the curiass clean of the sunbaked splatters. The grating sound of the abrasive cloth was unpleasant, but after a moment and with a splash of mead, the violence-scarred armor was mostly free of the bloody inkor. The small town could be seen in the distance. It was almost time to get to work.

The great mountain of a man stood, lifting the large tattered sack. With large, rough and calloused hands, he ripped out large metal plates - smashing them flat upon his body before belting them down tightly, snapping metal clasps. He shoved his greaves over his legs, holding a leather strap with his teeth as he worked the plates into place. A large brass pin and iron buckle set the plates together and fastened the heavy metal fittings in place as he continued adjusting his pauldrons and neck guard. He pulled on the guard slightly, which gave a soft squeak. It had begun to loosen slightly since a small skirmish on the boarder of Mendev. A bowman's aim placed a bolt squarely to his neck, deflected by nothing save for that single piece of metal. The tarnished bodkin bit deep into the narrow guard and nearly took it clean off its metallic perch. Having nearly been killed, the grizzled warrior made it a point to repair the thing, but even now it seemed to rattle. He would have had the piece soldered to his curiass if he had the coin for it, but what money he had was spent upon supplies for the road and repaying a debt to his band of rowdy brothers. He slammed his fists into his gauntlets and fixed his large cloak over himself. He slid his shield over one arm then grasped the large pole at his feet. It appeared as little more then a very long and study metal pole, he pulled how cowl low to hide the grim scars across his face. He pulled himself out the side of the wagon, hanging upon its exterior as the heavy vehicle rolled its way into the small town.


***

The merchant train rolled through the poorly built wooden gate. A stray wind made the structure lean to one side, then another, yet it kept its feet. It was perhaps a testament to the tenacity of the peoples who dwelled her, and the reality of a peoples outside the reach of civil lands where resources and tools were abundant. It was likely not that the gate simply couldn't be repaired yet, due to a shortage of materials. Yet, all the armored warrior saw was the swaying of a large broken post. He had ceased to stop and question, it was simply easier to ignore unnecessary things, least he confuse himself. With a small leap, he bounded off from the wagon to the ground. It was time to get to work. Or so he thought. The stranger who approached spoke of celebrations and festivities: Food, booze and women. The importance as to why ones age was a subject for celebration was a brief thought in his mind before he pushed the question aside. It didn't matter - No man should refuse free drink. It was that simple.

At the small woman's words, the great man beat his shielded chest with a weighty hand. He bellowed out in deep laughter, his words deeply steeped in some strange and foreign accent. "Hù-hahaha! Dásamlegt! Good, good! Vé drink then!" Without a moment of hesitation he threw an arm over the woman's shoulders and walked with her to The Commons.

[forg99rules]

http://s10.postimg.org/c670h8hqh/banner2.png
Jubilation fills the evening air in the normally staid town of Trunau, Upon entering the Commons you are greeted with the Sight of a Throng of spectators milling around either setting up booths, drinking and eating or just enjoying each others company; the buzz of the crowd subsides as the weathered town leader, Halgra of the Blackened Blades, takes the stage and begins to speak.

“Thank you all for joining us this night. I take immense pride in my responsibility as Chief Defender, especially when it comes to the honor of the hopeknife ceremony. It is always a great privilege to bequeath Trunauan youths their hopeknives as they come of age.” Halgra stops speaking long enough to open an ornamental case and retrieve a slender, ornately decorated dagger hanging from a silver chain. “But tonight is a special occasion, for the recipient of this hopeknife is none other than my youngest daughter.” Once again, Halgra pauses, but this time she turns to talk to the child beside her.

“Ruby, by the traditions of our town, you have come of age. This hopeknife represents your responsibilities as an adult and defender of Trunau. You must be willing to use it on yourself, your fellow Trunauans, and your family—even me, should it come to that. It will be a far quicker death than that which the orcs will offer, and providing it is your duty. Do you swear to guard Trunau from all comers, and to use your hopeknife only for its intended purpose?” Ruby—dusky skinned, black haired, and painfully shy—nods her head in response to her mother’s question.

“If the orcs come, and there is no other option, this is where you cut—here, here, and here.” Halgra demonstrates which arteries to sever while Ruby watches. When she is finished, Halgra sheathes the hopeknife and places the necklace around Ruby’s neck before turning back to address the crowd.

“Tonight, Ruby becomes a full member of our community! Let us welcome her, and celebrate her passage into adulthood! Trunau forever!” The crowd echoes Halgra’s last words in unison, signaling the end of the ceremony.

Having finished her speech, the town wastes no time in transitioning to the ceremonies more light-hearted festivities.
A well known local Hero named Kurst steps up to ruby as a group of 4 other locals, including local hero Rodrick Garth, work to clear a large space in the midst of the crowd. Once there is enough space, Rodrick begins carving out a large line in the dirt while Kurst brings ruby into the center of the space and starts to address the crowd.

"Tonight Ruby's first trial of adulthood is going to be a test of strength, She will face some of the strongest and most experienced members of the militia in a game of tug of war." With a smile on his face Kurst turns to Ruby. "You face 5 of us this day, all brave and strong. However, you need not face us alone. Pick from the crowd four champions to aid you in your struggle." There is a definite air of theatricality in his words, and every native who has witnessed one of these ceremonies before knows that is the point.

Ruby's eyes scan the crowd her eyes first falling upon a giant of a man, with wide eyes she points at him "You there, I require your help in this" shes says to Volsung Grógaldr. The next man ruby chooses is a Dwarf that she had met a few time at the Ramblehouse, "Lucan i could use your help to". As Ruby continues to scan the crowd knowing that if she picks wrong it could end with her losing the game her eyes fall upon a curious thing, An elf with skin as dark as coal "Ma'am, um if you would aid me also i could use your help in this". Continuing to look around Ruby starts to think to herself that shes already chosen some strong champions but maybe she should get aid from the halflings and let them show their strength, continuing to scan her eyes land on a halfling she doesn't recognize, Deciding that maybe he might be stronger than he looks she picks him "Sir, I need your aid as well.". Her champions chosen, Ruby makes her way to her side of the line, and waits for her champions to step forth.
http://s10.postimg.org/c670h8hqh/banner2.png

[Man on Fire]

Ilvaria was actually enjoying and getting invested in the ceremony. She might have some issue with the anti-Orc rhetorics, since she studied with few Orcs, but given the situation of those people, it was understable. And the little girl, Ruby, was so serious young Paladin could not help but cheer for her.
When the trial starts Invaria's sympathy grows even more. After all,she is on her own trial herself. So when Ruby chooses her as one of her allies, she almost leaps in excitement. Yes! It was clearly a sing from Ragathiel. An opporttunity to prove herself as a good person and to make this young girl's day even better? Of course she accepts. She is first to step out of the crowdand join Ruby. But not without some theathrics. She bows elegantly to the girl and declares "My lady, I, Ilvaria Barit'tar,am at your orders.. It's not thatserious of declaration, she doesn't want to accidentally intimidate the girl, just show she is committed to the task and supporrtive, but not extremely serious. After all, it's not like they'll be fighting to the death or something.

[Mornings]

Volsung Grógaldr - The Raging Tempest

He didn't know all the words. Nor did he know all the names. Such was the world which he discovered each day. As the sounds of laughter and chatter in strange tongues he did not understand filled the air, he stopped in his tracks. Such strange people. The crowd seemed to bend and move, possessing a life of its own. He closed his eyes. Lamb... Mead... Sage.. The scents, though they had no names, were familiar. Food, drink and the distant scent of some herb or another - worn or employed in some other use, he'd no idea. He could not understand many of them - the language was a fluid but powerful tongue, while others simply spoke in common, yet their words were too difficult and cumbersome. Did men need such long troublesome words? He didn't think so. He leveled his gaze upon the nearest table set with meat.

He moved up to the large table, arrayed with well cooked pork and lamb. The fire still blazed off to the side, with a pork roast nearing completion. He loomed over a man at the table like some great beast. Reaching over, he he ripped off a chunk of meat and stuffed it in his mouth. Tender and sweat. The seasonings were unlike anything he'd tried before, slightly glazed and grilled instead of boiled. He pat the man on the back with a powerful clap, nearly throwing him over the table with a bellowing laughter. "Hùhahaha! Ljúffengur, friend! Gùd, very gùd!" He smiled brightly, as he grabbed a leg of something and moved away from the table with a deep laugh.

Too large to simply navigate through the crowd of people, he grabbed and physically relocated those who failed to get out of his way - his eyes locked upon what appeared to be a concession table of alcoholic beverages. With one massive hand, he placed the small diminutive men and women between him and the table aside as if placing aside stray cats. Arriving at the busy table, cheers from the simple podium within the clearing. The peoples about the table laughed and drunk from horn-carved tankards, a stout man next to him chugged back his mead with hearty enthusiasm drawing out a nod of approval from the grey haired Ulfen. Slamming the metal rod in-hand into the ground, he reached out and snatched two tankards off the table, roughly setting the other down in front of the Trunauian man who chuckled and snatched up the cup lifting it and speaking something the big-man didn't understand. He lifted his tankard in reply, smacking their tankards together "Skál!" With a sweeping motion, he drained the carved tankard with a well-practiced flourish, as if pouring the contents down his throat. He smashed down the cup upon the counter, the fragile thing shattering in his hand as he released a fierce bletch with a chuckle. Without a thought, he through his arm around a plain looking woman at his side. The massive arm wrapped her in a great warm embrace, as if being hugged by some drunken bear. The gesture was quickly followed by a faceful of mead as the woman wet him awash with the contents of her tankard. He threw back his head and laughed boisterously and spun in a short circle with the lady in arm, the words upon the stage almost completely ignored until the young girl pointed at him while he jovially pranced in a circle soaking the woman with her own mead while she thrashed around in protest.

"Hùha! Enough games now, the little one calls me." He set the lady down, who staggered from the dizzing daze of being spun about so many times. He rubbed her head roughly throwing her hair into disarray. "Play again another day! Heh!" Ripping the pole from the ground and spinning it sharply as he fit the weapon upon his back by some magnetic force next to the quadra-set of four heavy black crossbows which hung from his back as he stormed forward. He pounded his fist into his hand as he lumbered up to the clearing before the young woman. "Já! Halló, little woman." He half squatted and leaned forward to bring himself close to her height. He looked at the heavy rope with a large grin, "You are challenged to Rope War, yes? You must prove your might. My people also do this - Young men must show strength during Reipi Stríð to be men. Your women, do this too? ....Strong women" He nodded to himself in bewilderment before standing before roaring out; "Very well, litla systir! You have the strength of the Doppelsoeldner and Jotun-Warrior, Volsung Grógaldr! Your enemies will shake in fear, Hùhaha! " He pounded his chest with a great beating fist.

[Dark Hawk799]

Delighted to be picked from the crowd to join the girl in the game, Neg hurries to join the others chosen from the crowd with the girl. ""My friend, I may not be much help in this challenge of strength, but if this is truly the first of many challenges, perhaps i might be more helpful in one of those. Regardless I will perform my best to help you win."

[♠Spade♠]

Lucan smiled at the child. "Sure thing, Ruby. I'll help you out."