The Chronicle of Michar Caernbrea

[magus_taliesin]

((Thought it would be easier to gather all of Michar's stories in one thread. Some of these first few many of you have already read.))

[magus_taliesin]

THE BATTLE AND BETRAYAL OF GNOLL BEND

((OOC stuff first:

First, to the DM who set this up, thanks. I would have thanked you in game, but I hate getting out of character on the server unless it's extremely important. So, thanks much for the event. Also, for placing the trophy in my inventory, a trophy that I suspect was stolen from the loot, thanks for that too.

To the halfling (intentionally not using names, Michar doesn't know them), a moment of honesty, and a problem I have seen on many servers. If the sword was not among the loot you rifled through then please ignore the rest of this paragraph. If however there was a gnoll great sword among the loot you took from the body then please consider the RP of a halfling trying to conceal a gnoll-sized great sword from someone. It is a situation I have encountered before on another server, a rogue pick-pocketing items like great axes, and making it seem as if it were as easy to conceal as coin. I as a player know that you did not actually loot a crossbow bolt (the item the halfling dropped when stopped) but Michar did not so I left it alone. When the sword suddenly appeared in my inventory I had my suspicions. If you still have the sword be honest and destroy it, if not then no worries, the RP still goes on.

end of OOC stuff))


*as heard around the campfire, with little prompting told by Michar Caernbrea*

It was a cool morning in the shadow of the ruins at Gnoll Bend. The hunting was good and many gnolls had notched my axe already. After felling another of the dog-faced beasts, a snarled challenge from behind got my attention. It was a large gnoll, more richly armed than the others. When I saw him I knew he was their chief. He spoke, in his guttural, yapping way and laid a challenge before me. He offered single combat with a champion of his choosing, the winner securing peace on the road for a tenday. Of course Tempus demands that such challenges be met with honor and courage so I accepted. The chief called out his champion.

I heard the beast behind me in the wilderness, so turned to see the largest gnoll I had ever seen. He was armored for battle in rusted plates, and carried a wicked great sword. His fur was matted, and marred by countless scars. One of his ears was bitten, or torn off and one eye was missing from his snarling face. This beast had seen many battles, and here he would see another. I knew Tempus would guide the blade of the one he chose to overcome that day, so I did not fear. If He chose to favor the gnoll I would go to the afterlife with his song on my lips, and praise for an honorable fight in my heart.

The beast taunted, and I rushed him, feeling the song of Tempus stir on my lips as He filled me with rage and power. I struck in viciously, bringing my axe down hard. The beast caught my blade on his, and returned with a kick to my leg. Thank Tempus he missed my knee, and I spun with the kick, bringing my axe around with me. The blade hit home in the beast’s muscled back, finding purchase between the plates of his armor. His own blade cut through the shoulder of my mail, burning a trail of fire through my flesh. We parted and faced off again, one sizing up the other to quicken the enemy to death. The beast charged, blade held high in hopes to bury it in my skull. I timed my step with care, and avoided the charge, burying the spike of my axe in the beast’s belly. He grunted, and his blade fell to the ground behind him, but he pushed on. He tried to reach my face with his claws, but I pulled hard on the axe haft, spilling his insides to the earth. The beast dropped to his knees, scrabbling at his parts in vain hope of putting things right again. I ended the beast’s suffering by removing his head in one clean stroke.

After the battle I faced the chief, to gauge his honor. He, and a couple of his troupe, put away their weapons and the chief said they would honor the agreement. It seemed that some of his warriors did not agree, and a fight broke out. I put down four of their number, while the chief and his loyal warriors put down the rest. I challenged the chief to hold his word, and he assured me the rest of his pack was loyal. The peace would stand for a tenday. He and the rest of his warriors faded into the wilderness.

During my final discussion with the chief, I came to realize that my battle had drawn a small audience. I noticed two rifling through the corpses, one of which being the champion. The short one, a Halfling I believe they are called, looted the body of my foe. After being confronted the little one realized the dishonor of the act and dropped what was taken. The bald, one-eyed woodsman however did not and refused to return what he stole. Of course the others present took his side, as all southerners tend to do, so I let the dog keep his ill-gained spoils. May they rot his flesh. If you see this dress wearing, one-eyed woodsman know that he is an honorless dog who deserves no better than your scorn.

I came to know, two days after the battle, that the gnolls had betrayed our honorable bargain. They were again besetting travelers on the road at the bend by the ruin. I went to the area to find the gnoll chief again, but the coward was nowhere to be seen. I put down every gnoll that was hostile toward me, but could not flush the chief out. If I see him again his hide will make a fine addition to my new tent.

[magus_taliesin]

THE BATTLE OF GOBLIN BLUFF

((told by Michar at the fire, to any who will listen))

The Battle of Goblin’s Bluff

We heard the call to arms, a cry for help form a passing barker. A good innkeep was beset by goblin raiders and needed our aid. We gathered, a mighty warband charged to put down the goblin threat. Many fine warriors, and many not. The innkeep offered pay, but some honorable few were with me, and we refused pay to swing our blades in honor to Tempus. Many fine blades to blaze Tempus’ glory, and some crying hens without the stomach for battle. They came anyway, those hens; for though they did not want to bring harm to the vermin horde, they would not pass up the chance to see true warriors bring Tempus’ fury on their heads.

We marched to take battle to the goblins on their ground and we fought gloriously against their first warriors, despite the clucking hens. Some knight called Eric put himself in charge, but wouldn’t know how to lead a warband if it would save his own kin. Thank Tempus he took charge of the healing tents, but his constant pratter liked to drive me mad. He made one called Zacham, one of the hens, in charge of the front line troops. One wonders why, when so many honorable blades of Tempus were upon the field with the stomach to fight, and win.

One of the goblin chiefs wanted to talk when we took battle to their village, and Zacham started clucking about putting away our weapons. Of course we didn’t, wise warriors are favored by Tempus. He laughs at those that would put their weapons away when faced by deceitful vermin waiting for the chance to stick you in the back. The chief was not happy with our choice of diplomat and glorious battle was had again. We fought hard, our weapons and arms coated in dry blood and offal.

We laid waste to more goblins and their kin. Some dogs thought we should seek out their females and young and put them to the sword. Those of us who have honor would not hear it, may Tempus take the edge from their blade and lay them low in a ditch for their dishonor. Many times we beat back the hordes, and many fell to be roused again by the healers who had taken refuge on the bluff above the village. After a time we began to see more than goblins. Dark dwarves and drow, huge lizards and an eye beast were all fought and vanquished.

Our ‘glorious’ leader, Zacham, did whine and cry so for the battle to be over. The sod could not even keep himself on his feet for more than a handful of seconds, but he cried on. If there were not so many favored of Tempus on the field of battle the God of Battle would surely have let all of them fall to the goblin horde. I fought side by side with honorable blades wielded by Tanner and Grah’thok, and the sneak Luca. Others I cannot name but whose legends will be sung in the halls of Tempus. We stood between the simpering women and kept them from harm as best we could.

Finally after wave upon wave of enemies they prepared for a final assault on our line. It was near the end of their last effort to push us back that I, Michar, son of Regath was laid low when I was surrounded by three dark dwarves. Many had fallen and few of us left held the enemy from the healers on the bluff. There was none close to guard my back, but I fought hard against the three, blood thick on my blade and my body. The stink of battle was like fire in my nose, and the song of Tempus sweet on my lips. I felled one of the three before their blades sent me to darkness. If not for the healers on the bluff I would be drinking mead in the hall of Tempus even now.

[magus_taliesin]

UNCHARACTERISTIC PRAYER TO TEMPUS

((not sure how DMs on this server handle deity/mortal interaction on this server, but if it is like the last I played on there was some. DM interaction in this is welcome in the place of Tempus))

Michar walks the woods south of Baldur's Gate, lost in thought. His mind is troubled and his tread heavy. He is clearly in a state of inner turmoil. He stops in a small clearing, standing still, in the middle, feet wide apart as he would be when facing a mortal opponent. He slowly draws his axe from its carrier and holds it in front of him, running a calloused hand along the notched blade. He could almost remember where each flaw, and ding had come from. This from a gnoll's skull, that from a lizard folk thigh bone. He slowly lowers the axe and looks across the clearing, without seeing the trees ahead. He stands as if facing an equal, or an enemy.

"Tempus," he starts uncomfortably.

"Tempus, I have never done this, but I am far from my people and have no shaman to speak for me," the large warrior swallows and clears his throat.

"I need your guidance now, but I will not beg, I know you would laugh and strike me down for such weakness. My mind is troubled by these southern people, and their strange ways."

Michar grips the axe so tight his knuckles grow white, and his fingers numb.

"There is one, called Valim, that knows no honor. My heart tells me to kill him and throw him in a deep hole for the scavengers, but I know he is beneath my honor. It would disgrace me to foul my blade with is filth."

Michar looks at the axe again, as if looking at a close friend.

"He has insulted me, and he has cursed you, mighty Tempus, but this past day he has insulted one that I hold dear. She is different, but she is Tundra Wolf now and forever. He spoke ill of her kind, and it brought my blood to boil. I can handle insult to me, I can ignore his lies, I know that his cursing of you will buy him a disgraceful end, but his insult of her cannot stand."

Michar's heart is racing and his face is red with rage, even now furious thinking about the insult that Valim cast at the race of Michar's lover.

"I do not know what to do Tempus. I seek your guidance in this. I would know your will. Do I cross blades with this dog, or do I cast him from my mind as if he were already dead?"

Michar tears at his armor, ripping lacing and buckles to bare his chest.

"I give you an offering of my blood so that you may know me, and know that my strength and honor are yours to lead even to the hells."

With that last Michar draws the blade of his axe across his chest in three shallow wounds, raising the bloody weapon to the sky. He roars into the night, releasing his rage to the heavens.

[magus_taliesin]

BLOOD WASHES BLOOD

((A story not told by Michar, but maybe witnessed by others))

The naked, bearded man tore through the chest of another dog-headed beast, his bare hands sunk up to the elbow in the monster's body. The man's entire body was covered in the blood of his enemies, and some of his own. He used his bare hands to open the beast and let out a primal roar as he was sprayed with the creature's hot blood. His head snapped up as he heard two more approach. He growled low in his throat and rose to a crouch, facing the closest gnoll.

The adversaries leapt at each other, man and beast locked in savage fury. The gnoll dragged his claws across the man's arms, leaving bloody trails in his muscles. The man took hold of the gnoll's jaws, keeping the gnashing teeth at bay. The man's arms bulged as he pulled, tearing the gnoll's lower jaw from its head. The other beast reached the fatal struggle and grabbed at the man's neck. The man released his first victim, who reeled away to die in a whining heap. The man reached back, taking hold of the second gnoll's head. With a mighty wrench he broke the monster's neck.

The man raised his bloody arms to the sky and roared out his rage to the very Gods.

"Dog Face!" The man roared into the night. "I will kill them all! Face me or watch them all die!"

[magus_taliesin]

OUTCASTS ON THE TUNDRA

((A fable, told by Michar's people, and remembered by the barbarian one night by the campfire.))

This is not a tale of happy endings or glorious battle. This is a tale of life, plain and simple. This is a legend among my people. True or not, the lesson is very real.

On the Great Glacier a mighty pack of tundra wolves roam and hunt. They follow the herds of caribou, through the seasons, across the ice. There was one young wolf in the pack who was hated by the Alpha. The pup was confident, and strong, and the Alpha knew that one day the pup would be strong enough to take his place. They fought many times over food, but one day they fought over a female. The Alpha nearly killed the pup in their battle. After the fight the pup was run off to live on his own, away from the pack.

The pup followed behind the pack for days, living off their left-behind scraps. He was able to take a few scrawny hares, but was no match for the massive caribou on his own. One day, over the body of a dead hare he saw a wolf in the distance, watching him. It was a she-wolf, he could smell her even at that distance. She was unlike any other wolves on the tundra though. Her coat was black as the night sky and her eyes were gold like the sun at midday.

The white wolf raised his head from his kill and tilted it, looking at the strange she-wolf. He was drawn to her and so padded in her direction, his meal forgotten. Her lowered head lifted as he started to approach, and her lips drew back from her teeth. After he had moved a few feet in her direction she turned and ran away.

The white wolf was confused. The she-wolf had been alone, but had not tried for his kill. She had been watching him, but when he approached she had fled. He decided to gather up his meal and follow her to see what she was up to.

He followed her for several days. They hunted, but not together. They slept, but always apart. Many times he would get close but she would snap at him or drive him off. For some reason he was still drawn to the she-wolf after all her reproach. He redoubled his efforts to get closer to the black wolf.

After several days of this the nights began to grow cold. One very cold night the white wolf awoke to the she-wolf lying up against him to share his body heat. If a wolf could smile he would have before he tucked his nose under a leg and went back to sleep.

From then on they walked together, hunted together, and even played together. It was never known if the white wolf caught the black, or if the she-wolf wanted herself caught, but those two outcasts raised a mighty pack on the glacier before their time on this world was over.