Dreams and musings.

[Sir Kharn]

It Always begins the same way, the feeling of pressure and something being taken from him, like his entire being was being slowly extracted...He was only a child there was nothing he could do, nobody to help him, to tell him what to do....Oh the darkness, how it oppresses me and yet, at the same time comforts me, soothing and amplifying the pain from the thing that sits on my chest taking, ever so slowly taking, whatever it was that's left of me.....Time passes, endless moments of pain and the feeling of a great loss are interrupted with the coming of muffled footsteps, slow and steady...I hear him coming and i quake with fear....

[Sir Kharn]

Dreams and musings

The armored dwarf crouches in the long grass on top of the rise just before the entrance to the Bloodmaim camp studying the orcs as they move about, waiting for the guard to change. "That's the moment i strike" he thinks to himself, "the weary guards will have their backs to me and the new one's will be busy fending off insults and taunts to stay awake from the previous crew as the make their way to their posts". His eye's narrow as he notice's a steam smith swaggering amongst the workers, ready to lash out at any time. "Just as they pass each other i'll call down the fury of Gorm, as they are being blasted and battered by his divine vengeance i'll charge and scatter them...they will not stand long against his fury".
He glance's to his right where, in the darkness, the forge is easily visible. Its blazing heat producing a fiery glow that lit the surrounding area with a sickly pulsating red glow. He turns his head so as not to foul his night vision and blinks...

He screams in agony as the thing on his chest is removed, howling in his pain he call's out for help....He pleads with the man in red to kill him, willing to do anything to stop the pain...He's laughing, savoring my agony...He's muttering to himself and pointing at me, oh gods why is he doing this?....

When his eye's open a second later he is stunned. Mouth gaping under his helm in shock he remains perfectly still trying to process what just happened. Memory's fly through his head, random images assaulting his mind that shake him to his very core. Cautiously he backs away, shaking his head to try to clear the image's from his mind. Barely in control he get's behind a nearby tree and sits trying to remove his helm. When he yanks it off he lets it drop to the ground, barely making a sound as it hits the soft soil. Slowly he raise's a trembling hand to his face thinking to himself "By Gorms shield what is happening to me? Is this.....fear? Or is it something else?". He looks at his hand's frantic trembling and waits as it slowly grows still, concentrating in the manner taught by his venerable master and teacher in his homeland of Amn. Passing beyond the chaos of his thoughts he looks inward, brushing the random memory's aside he focuses his will, regaining his control with an iron will that only a sanctified cleric of Gorm Gulthyn can do. "First the dreams and now this? by Gorms burning gaze i've got to get to the bottom of this, next time I wont be so lucky!". Furious with himself he reaches behind his head and unclasps the thick chain that was attached to the bronze palm sized shield that was his holy symbol of Gorm, he stares reverently at it for a few moments then grasps it in his right hand, his shield arm. Wrapping the chain around his now clenched fist he takes up his axe and strides around the tree back to the top of the rise. Calling down all the blessings that Gorm could give he continued onwards making straight for the entrance of the armory, his power growing with every step he took. Stunned the bloodmaim archers stared at him, shocked that a lone dwarf is thinking that he can just walk in and do what he likes. They cried out in warning but by then it was too late, the dwarf roared as he called down his final blessing and charged straight into them swinging his axe back and forth before they had the chance to launch but a handful of arrows and calling down a terrible storm as he did so. He would cleanse himself in holy battle against the hated orc with a passion that he had seldom felt before, then he would get to the bottom of what was happening to him.

[Sir Kharn]

I hang chained to a wall, clad in filthy rags with sores and blisters covering most of my body. Weary i look around and see nothing but empty places where members of my clan once hung and feel....nothing, its like some kind of void has risen within me numbing the pain and fear. One by one they left, proud and stoic marching to their fate never to be seen again....Nothing more than the playthings of the sick mind that was behind all this.
I look down at the two wounds on either side of my chest without emotion, watching as clear fluid slowly trickles down into the filthy rags about my waist, silently wondering when he was going to come back for me.

[Sir Kharn]

He coughs, blood spraying from from the vents in his ruined helm as he staggers towards the stream, the blood soaking into his filthy and matted beard. Confused, he halts for a moment...almost as if he cant seem to remember what he was doing then he mutters briefly and continues onwards towards the stream, each step becoming increasingly harder until he slowly crumples to his knees and begins to crawl until he at last comes to the edge.

He looks into the stream as he slowly removes what was left of his helmet, torn and battered on the left side from where the Bloodmaim breaker had almost removed his head. Placing his grubby hand over the torn and bruised flesh he mutters a minor healing blessing, barely enough to stem the flow of blood. Next he slowly sinks backwards into a sitting position and gently begins to unbuckle what was left of his breast plate, almost stove in completely right in the center from where the breakers second blow had landed.
He'd been getting careless lately, pursuing his enemies with a reckless abandon and taking risks the he would not normally take. Slowly he tends his wounds muttering almost the last of his blessings and stitching those wounds that would have to wait till he had regained Gorms favor in the morning. Finished he slowly stands, careful of the stitches and hobbles down stream until he finds a place safe enough to make a crude camp.

Sitting with his back to a tree he begins to slowly regulate his breathing until it becomes deep and even slowly sinking into a semi meditative state. Next he begins to bring some order to his mind, sorting through recent events and what led him here so severely wounded. Disillusioned with the situation at Mirakus he had handed in his resignation, his mission was to protect....the very thought of Banites and the rest of the vermin wandering around there unopposed revolted him to the core and he just couldn't believe that it remained so to this day. "So many trials i have faced since I have landed on these shores Gorm" he murmurs softly "Have I failed the most important one?". He thinks of the failed attack on the post and wonders if things would have turned out differently had he been there, finding that he was only chasing his tail on that one he put it away until he was more able to deal with it. Then there were the dreams of being tortured and watching his family and clan members die slowly one after the other and the terrible being that seemed to delight in letting his disgusting creature somehow feed from his essence...even after all these decades he still doesn't know how in the hells he got out of that one. Slowly he opens his eyes and proclaims suddenly " My life is crap Gorm " he pauses for a moment and adds " I don't even have the coin to buy new armor and i haven't had any ale in a month, exactly how much more of this am i going to have to take?".

Knowing full well that Gorm himself wasn't going to personally drop in and explain the plans he has for him he sighs softly and mutters his final blessing, a ward that would make enough noise to wake him should its perimeter be breached while he slept. As he sank into unconsciousness his hand slowly drifted to the gleaming axe at his side, his palm coming to a rest on the flat of the blade, its gentle warmth seeping into his body as he slowly gave in to oblivion.

[Sir Kharn]

Victorious, Kharn stood over the prone form of his fallen enemy noting the shallow breathing and heavily bleeding wounds inflicted by his waraxe's holy blade, the vermin had summoned a wraith of some kind and a death knight to fight for her to little avail for even at her full power she had no chance against the enraged dwarf and he easily swept them aside and struck directly at her cutting her down as she attempted to flee.

Kneeling down with a grin he insulted her and her god by using Gorm's divine gift to heal her wounds just enough so that she would survive. Gasping she regained consciousness and fixed a terrified look upon him as he spoke in a deep voice that boomed out from beneath his helm "Remember this vermin and tell your friends i'm coming for them, every last bloodsucking one." He hold's his axe forth, its gleaming sickle blade pointed directly at her head "That is the one reason you live for the next time we meet, and we will meet again, will be your death" Without waiting for a response he turns and leaves, satisfied that the piece of effluent he left lying on the ground would indeed spread his message.......

[Sir Kharn]

Weary, Kharn Brokenanvil sits in mute silence at the simple camp that he had made for the night after returning from the Mossdale graveyard, victorious after his sudden attack on the undead there with his newly completed holy weapon, The Sentinel. Its sickle blade easily cutting the abominations down...He blinks rapidly as a memory suddenly assaults him with the force of a bolt of lightning, its electrifying shock triggering in him a memory that he had long forgotten....

"When the perfect weapon is made the mold is destroyed and the anvil is broken, as a testament to its perfection." His father spoke, as he stood by the forge pumping the bellows. "Why do that da?" The scrawny dwarven child asked in rapt attention, "Because son, we believe every anvil used to work the sacred metal will produce just such a weapon once and once only in a lifetime" His powerful muscles working the bellows in a rhythmic fashion, slowly building the temperature inside the forge to a furious level "The mold is ground to dust, the powder thrown into the forge by a priest as a tribute to our pantheon for providing the gift of allowing us to work the holy metal, the sacred adamantine".
The powerfully build dwarven smith, satisfied with the temperature of the forge, stops working the bellows and turns to pick up the massive hammer that he used in his craft and continues " The anvil is rent usunder in a an ancient ceremony known only to the priests and returned to its forge to be enshrined, a constant reminder to its smith of the perfection that he had wrought upon it".......

Stunned Kharn examines The Sentinel, its shinning blade pulsating in rhythm with his racing heart. Its beat was slowing gradually as it continued to keep pace.
Slowly he reaches down to his side and takes up the weapon. Time and again since he had left the legion he had come up against those that would do harm to his friends and the land he now called home. Time and time again he gladly sacrificed himself in his duty without question. But then he began to question himself, he even questioned his very faith to Gorm.

Then there was Mirakus. His rage at the banites became overwhelming, driving him to the brink of madness. Frustrated at what he saw at the time as a failure by the legion command to order an immediate assault to retake the post he had handed in his resignation and began his own personal mission of vengeance against the hordes of banites and vampires that seemed at the time to roam the lands killing those before them at will. A mission that on the most part failed.

He remembers preaching to all that would listen about unity. The combining of resources in the fight against the evil gripping the land. Was he a hypocrite? Yes, while he was preaching he was off by himself in the mossdale, attacking the orcs in a berserker fashion. "What in the hells have i become?" He says to the trees around him, not expecting an answer. It was time to make a decision. He knew what to do, he had to find Perdian. He had to come back.

[Sir Kharn]

Devastation


The beardling groans from beneath the wrecked wall, its weight pressing down on him from the hips. Looking around from his position beneath the ramparts Kharn pauses a moment considering the situation for the first time since he unwittingly began his escape he looks back down "I'm not going anywhere boy, we get out together on not at all!".
Heaving he try's to dislodge the fallen masonry but to no avail, he just wasn't strong enough to lift it. ""You gotta go kharn!" The beardling screams, arrows fall all about them as the guard began to come to their sense's, "The guard! they're coming!".

At that precise moment a man, clad in the red robe's of the wizards of thay strides from the wreckage that had been his home only a few minutes before. Looking to the rampart the mage's eyes narrow as he catches sight of his quarry, drawing a finely detailed brass rod and pointing it squarely on the figure he can see frantically trying to clear some of the rubble of what had been the walls of his once Mansion, now little more than a charred ruin after what the dwarf had done, "The spark of divinity, who'd have thought the little vermin could do...." He pauses for a second,considering.

Fourteen minutes and twenty seven seconds ago....

He lies on the cold stone slab as he had more times than he can count, wrists and ankles chained securely. His beard is thick and long and matted with grime and filth, his body is a wasted shell. Emaciated almost to the point of death. The wounds on his chest were still weeping clear fluid from where the thing had last fed.
As he lays there he hears an unfamiliar rattle coming from the doorway behind him and he turns his head, trying to get a glimpse of whatever new horrors were going to be visited upon him this day. An attendant came into view, human this time. It was bald with a frightful scar where its mouth had been and its eyes and ears had both been sewed shut. Bumping and rattling the trolley it was pushing into the room came to an abrupt halt leaving its contents in view of the prisoner. Without a word the attendant turns and leaves the room leaving barely a whisper in its wake.

Looking the contents of the table over he wasn't at all surprised what lay there, various torture implements and other such items litter every spare inch of space. Sitting prominently amongst the perverse assortment of tools was an exquisite blue vial and of all things, this one made him shudder the most, for he knew what that meant....HE was coming with that..thing of his.
Slowly his shuddering increases, its intensity growing with every passing second, so furious that the slab itself was beginning to vibrate. Suddenly the shuddering subsides as a bald human in red robes walks into the room with his palm pointed at Kharns forehead muttering the words of a spell "Calm" The mage commands.
Standing over the slab and examining the dwarfs ruined body he places his hands on his hips and spits with venom "Bring the Xxeroth in for its final feeding!"
Another attendant, similarly maimed pushed a second trolley into the room.

Upon the trolley sat a beast the likes of which the realms had never seen before, a sickly pale green slug like creature with two feeding probes waving before it. Upon entering the room the Xxeroths feeder probes catch Kharns scent and immediately begins to reach for him. The man in red chuckles and remarks "Ohh but the Xxeroth likes you kharn, see how it searches for you? hungry for your essence". He moves to the trolley slowly pulling a wand from beneath his robe as he does so. "This is the last time it will feed on you Kharn, you should be honored". He points the wand to the creature and its tip glows, the creature gently rising above the surface of the trolley with disgusting grace.
He flicks the wand in Kharns direction and the creature gently floats over and stops above his chest, another flick and it settles downwards coming to rest squarely onto his chest. "After all these years, how long has it been Kharn? You were little more than a child when you first came here. Did you know your clans hold has overgrown and reclaimed by the land?" He pauses for a moment, clearly taking pleasure in what he was doing. "Its almost as if they never existed, how splendid! All that's left is you!" He exclaims with increasing vigor as the creatures probes begin to quest for the weeping sores that is the mark of its feeding. Screaming, Kharn could feel its tendrils erupting from the probes and invading his body. Liquid agony runs along every nerve as the thing drains him of his essence.
Grinning, the mage looks down on Kharn, his agony seeming to make him stronger. He places the palm of his hand over Kharns forehead and mutters the words to the spell the would blank the dwarfs mind so that the Xxeroth could do its job uninterrupted "Calm" He speaks. But Kharn is still screaming, his arms and legs straining against his restraints as he begins to shudder more violently than before. The mage mutters again the words of the spell and, in a more commanding tone "Calm!". Once again the spell seems to have no effect. Startled, the mage in red takes a step back, looking around as he does so. "Thats strange" he thinks to himself, " The Xxeroth is supposed to have drained the dwarfs inherent resistance to magics".

Slowly the stone of the feeding room begins to shudder, seemingly building crescendo along with Kharns shuddering until the stone itself began to crack. From the ceiling above the slab a massive chunk of stone tears lose, falling squarely onto the creature that sits on Kharns chest, crushing it and sending a spray of foul ichor in every direction. Grasping a broach at his neck a luminescent bubble appears around the mage and, noticing kharn shuddering under a large piece of masonry covered with the goo that was the Xxeroth he points his finger and prepares a spell but, before he can finish the spell he stops and stares incredulously at the shaking dwarf, for a golden light began radiate from Kharns body, its glowing nimbus increasing by the second until it was almost blinding.

Shrugging of the large chunk of stone and barely acknowledging the remains of the Xxeroth dripping all around him he rises, his bindings snapping from his arms and legs with ease. Opening his eyes he looks around, seemingly not knowing where he is. Until his gaze settles on the mage, there it stops.
The mage, with a look of fear spreading across his face looks ready to bolt out the crumbling door like a rabbit as Kharns voice booms out "Vermin!"
"His voice is deeper" thinks the mage, it seems as if its coming from a great distance but its not the voice of Kharn "It sounds like...." His thought is interrupted as a large chunk of mortar falls from the roof and strikes him on the head.
Pointing an accusing finger at the mage Kharn speaks again "You dare to call me vermin! You who have fed on my kin as if they were some kind of treat! To extend your pathetic life!" He booms as he takes a pondering step forward and continues "My ancestors call from beyond the void for vengeance! They want your blood mage!" .

Standing there, stunned for a moment, the mage raises a bejeweled finger to Kharn and mutters the words "Magic missile". Twelve gleaming balls of energy erupt from the ring and speed towards Kharn but dissipate when they come into contact with the golden nimbus that surrounds him. With a face as impassive as the very stone that fell around him Kharn grabs the edge of the stone slab that had been a silent witness to over a century of the dwarfs suffering and hurls it into a wall, shattering on impact. "You know who you face you piece of shit?" He booms again as he takes a step in the direction of the man in red, "I am a monument to all your sins!". With that proclamation the mage breaks and runs, sprinting out the crumbling doorway and calling for the guard.

Continued on to next page

[Sir Kharn]

The following takes place in Kharns subconscious as his prison is being laid to waste...........

Kharn sits on a hill, overlooking the small valley that leads to his clans holdings further down and into the mountains. The weather is perfect, there are no clouds in the sky. The feeling of peace and happiness that he has is overwhelming, tears stream down his face unashamedly.
Staring down the valley Kharn fails to notice the sound of hobnailed boots approaching from behind. A large, heavily muscled dwarf stands beside him.
Silently the dwarf raises a gauntleted hand to his shoulder and pats him fondly, he says tenderly "You got to wake up now, son".
Startled Kharn turns his head, speechless at the sound of a voice he had thought long forgotten, he trys to talk but finds himself stuttering, the words would just not come so he just grabbed him and held him fiercely. He sobbed as he had as a child, hanging there in the dark while his family and clan had been taken slowly, one by one off into the darkness never to be seen again.
"I haven't got much time lad, Gorm calls us and we don't have much time" He pause's a moment, looking at his son and then continues "By the grace of Gorm does the strength of the clan flow through your veins right now, tho you don't know it. Right now, in the real world, we are destroying the monsters home and all his works so he can no longer steal the essence's of others to prolong his miserable existence".

For a long moment Kharns father seems to shimmer, like it was about to fade out then suddenly he grabs Kharns shoulders, shaking him roughly "Wake up lad! our time is almost over, he calls us back now..." The dwarf seems to drift off for a moment, as if looking at something wonderful that Kharn could not see, he then continues "When we are done lad there's not going to be much left of you, you were near death before we started and we cant change that when we leave but Kharn, listen to me please, you got to remember to save the boy ok? We took him as far as we could but its up to you, you got to save the boy!". Kharn, sensing the import of his fathers words looks him in the eyes and simply nod's "I will father.....goodbye" Even as he speaks his father shimmer's again and simply vanishes, returning to the embrace of the sentinel.

Continued on the next page

[Sir Kharn]

Back to the beginning.

Kharn turns to reposition himself, trying to get more leverage and noticing the mage pointing a brass rod at him. "Oh crap" he mutters as he finally gets a hold of himself and with a surge if strength ( It mainly came from the fear of being blown to bits so close to freedom) he heaved once more, the stone shifting and falling away until the boy was free. Looking just beyond the boy Kharn saw a jagged crack that looked just wide enough for a half dead anorexic dwarf and a beardling to get through, then he heard from the in the distance behind him, the mage scream the word "Fireball!".

He could feel the heat of the approaching fireball on his back as he grabbed the boy and dove into the crack as the fireball exploded behind him, sending a tongue of flame lashing his back and propelling himself and the (now screaming) beardling scraping and tumbling straight out the other side. Tumbling and rolling the pair came crashing to a halt at the bottom of the incline below the now crumbling walls. There was a few moments of stunned silence, the pair staring at each other in shock and then, with a rumble and a great cloud of dust and debris, the foundation of the wall shifted and the wall started to topple, in their direction.

"Of course" He mutters, as he looks to the wall that was going to crush them in a few seconds. With a groan he surges to his feet (once again, motivated by the prospect of a violent end so near to freedom) "Run!" He cries as he propels the beardling to his feet and sends him half running, half staggering away from the falling wall. There was only one way to go, the treeline about five hundred yards distant. Kharn knew (if they could avoid being crushed by the wall) that if they could make it that far then they'd have a fighting chance of making their escape. So on they ran until finally they reached the treeline, only then stopping to take a breath and observe the devastation that had been wrought in their wake.

The walls of the manse lay in ruin, its rubble strewn across a vast swath of its border. The manse itself, and its surrounding buildings lay in a jumbled ruin. Violent earth tremors had shifted the foundations, bringing them all to the ground. They could still feel the rumbling of the dungeons below the manse as they collapsed even from where they stood just inside the treeline.
"Wow" the beardling exclaimed and looked to Kharn with a look of wonder.
"Yea, thats a word for it" Kharn states, dumbfounded "Wow indeed".
Shaking his head a few times the beardling looks Kharn up and down and shakes his head again, this time in disbelief. "How in the hells did you do all that?" he asks quietly "You were glowing and your voice was deeper somehow". Kharn remains silent a few more moments before answering in a flat monotone "Wasn't me boy, wasn't me".

A few hours later, deeper into the Forrest the pair came upon a road that meandered away to the south following the lay of the thick Forest out of sight. Exhausted beyond belief the pair halted in the middle of the road, the beardling falling to his knees, Kharn falling flat on his face, his breath rattling in and out rapidly. "I cant run anymore lad, I'm done for" he pants, "whats yer name anyway?" he pants again, unable to move "And how'd you end up in that hell hole?" he remarks, his eyes barely open.
"Names Rook, Rook Ironjaw of the Ironjaw clan" he pauses for a moment as he crawls over to Kharn, helping him into a sitting position " My family was travelin south, to the city to get on a boat". "A boat? why were ye getting on a boat?" Kharn asks weakly "where are you and your family going?"
"We were getting on a boat to go somewhere else, somewhere better than here" he pauses as he stares down the road "I got taken by a slaver when i wandered to far from my family's caravan to do a little of exploring and i ended up in that...place" He struggles to his feet, offering kharn a hand up "As to where, we were going to a place called Sundren, my Dads got a job there mining" Kharn staggers to his feet and Rook continues "A fresh start dad said, far from here, where our kind aren't persecuted like they are here" Rook begins to stagger/walk south "If i can find my family, you can come too if you like, you know, for saving me and all..." He trails off looking over his shoulder "If you can make it".

With a grunt Kharn replys as he turns to follow the boy "Sundren huh?" He pauses "Sure, why not...like you said Rook, anywhere's better than here"

Fin.