(Sacred Time 1615 to Fire Season 1616)
And so the heartbreaking battle for the Windsword began. There was no urgency, for all sensed the tragedy inherent in the upcoming fight, as Orlanthi kinsmen prepared to slaughter one another for possession of a weapon which both sides would likely put to the same use – to fight the Lunar...
Both sides solemnly went about their own preparations. Spells were cast and holy magics invoked, armour was checked and weapons were readied. Then, as their gods watched, they advanced upon one another with their more terrible purpose putting iron in their hearts and laying all bonds of kinship aside.
They marched on forward; both sides falling into familiar formations, for each had laid their plans before the battle began. Things went badly for the Wind Lord. Orstanor mustered his will and bided his time, waiting for exactly the right moment, seeking, with his Amadi pragmatism to end the fight with one swift strike. His hurled javelin flew unerringly and struck the Wind Lord hard and in the face of his crested iron helm, striking him unconscious with a single blow.
However, the experienced group were able to quickly react. Eucleia Stormfollower took position over her lord’s fallen body whilst his allied spirit began the healing spell. The party pushed forward with their advantage and charged in, attempting to finish the fallen Torath Manover before he could be healed.
As Orstanor closed in on the kill he was engaged by the allied spirit of the large and brutish Storm Voice who accompanied Torath. As the spirit attacked his soul his charge ground to a halt as he fought for possession of his very body. Aransar leapt forward as did Kestraldan the Humakti but Aransar’s strike at the fallen Wind Lord was blocked by the shield of his faithful Vingan thane, Eucleia, who paid for her sense of duty with a wicked strike to her leg from Kestraldan which she failed to dodge. Down she went, but still she struggled to defend her fallen Lord.
As the group closed into a melee, Kulbrast invoked the spirit of the Windsword and sent it to aid Orstanor who was outclassed by the spirit that engaged him. As Orstanor burst free from the conflict, leaving the two mighty spirits to battle one another, so did the work of Torath’s allied spirit come to fruition, the Wind Lord rolling to his feet and taking to the fight once more.
Aransar desperately tried to finish the downed woman, but Orstanor recklessly leapt straight over her prostrate form in his desire to get to Torath. His earlier mastery of combat deserted him, and the straps on his shield broke as he desperately parried the blow that came from the warrior woman below him.
On the left flank Kulbrast had engaged the battle priest and had lanced his spear through the attacker’s weapon arm. Devoid of his allied spirit, the Storm Voice felt an unfamiliar and icy shiver of fear in his spine as he sought to battle the eerily masque warrior. Nardan and SilverRunning were being kept at bay by the other Orlanthi warrior in Torath’s retinue.
Sensing that Orstanor’s haste had left him one on one with a Wind Lord, Aransar released the faithful sylph that had borne them so far just recently. It engulfed Torath who was forced to switch his attack from Orstanor to the elemental lest he be raised into the sky.
Aransar, using his bladesharpened sword finished the fallen Eucleia Stormfollower who had taken many blows as she desperately gave her life for her Lord. Orlanth ignored her final plea for aid and there she died, on a lonely plain in an empty land.
The fight on the left went better, for it was apparent that the battle priest was no match for Kulbrast, one on one. Having lost the use of both arms, he summoned the chariot of Mastakos and retreated instantly some distance away so that he could heal himself. However the canny and ruthless Kulbrast invoked the same power from the Windsword and arrived at the same point, again lancing his spear into the Rune Priest. Seeing no other option without getting some healing in first but not seeing the need for divine intervention just yet – ignorance and arrogance so often being bedfellows – the Storm Voice launched himself into the air and out of reach whilst he invoked his healing magics.
Torath had felled the sylph, but was now assailed by Kestraldan, Aransar and Orstanor, however, he knew he was protected by a mighty Shield spell over his iron clad body, and knew that he could ignore most of the blows that were incoming. Aransar can deal mighty damage with his sword, but the iron-rimmed hoplite shield was more than able to soak up the impact when Torath braced himself against the blow, but were it not for Aransar’s relentless assault, the Wind Lord would have been on the offensive.
Aransar felt the icy grip of Death upon him as the Wind Lord’s sword broke through his defences, but then, in turn felt renewed hope as some daimon moved within him, instinctively guiding his body out of the way of a blow that would have disembowelled him, but he still took a wound that forced him back from the fight to try and heal himself. As Torath turned upon the Humakti, who can guess at his thoughts as he cleaved through Kestraldan only to have that one’s fell God answer his call to renew the battle? Outnumbered by men and turned on by the Gods, perhaps the futility of his own obsession dawned upon him.
Kulbrast approached from the rear and unleashed another sylph from the Windsword which swept toward Torath. As he was engulfed again and raised into the skies he offered up his final prayer to Orlanth which the Storm God answered, rewarding the faith shown by his minion in life. The sylph was dismissed and Torath, rather than seek swift egress from the battle thought to continue with body and vigour renewed, to this, his last stand in the wilderness, for in his fixation with the mighty sword of Alakoring, he could not conceive of coming so close to possessing it only to fail.
The end, as with all men, was only a matter of Time...
In the wake of the fall of Torath Manover, Aransar was mightily angered by the nature of the battle, and refused to participate in the building of the pyre. Kulbrast and Orstanor built what edifice they could with wood from a nearby copse of trees, and they sang the songs to the fallen and performed the rites to send their fallen brothers and sister home.
The Storm Voice had fled when he saw his leader fall, and the mood was solemn as the party gathered the treasure that they had accumulated from the last few days. Seldom has such a hoard been seen, truth be told, for they now possessed the Windsword of Alakoring Dragonbreaker as well as the iron effects of a Wind Lord, as well as all the treasure they had gathered from the Griffin’s caves.
Gathering the mounts of their foes, they strapped the booty to the spare horse and argued as to their next course. Now they had the Windsword, they were unsure what to do next, but Kulbrast had learned of a secret pass through the mountains from his time with the Balazaring clan. This was a useful option since they were wary of taking the sword back through Lunar lands. Aransar persuaded the group to return to Trilus, aware that as a Lightbringer-friendly location they would be able to regroup and perhaps bargain the treasure they had earned for the enchantments necessary to be able to use the iron weapons and armour.
As they rode toward Blue Dog Gap, bypassing the herds of animals and prides of sabre tooth cats, they became aware of another rider to the west, who was also clearly making their way to the ford. Thus did the party come to include the enigmatic westerner, Saul Galvost, who had come to the Elder Wilds seeking solace and had paid a terrible price, losing his family to unknown raiders.
He now joined the party, having no other reason for life, but trusting to his faith in the Invisible God that he had been led to this doom for some unknown reason. As they crossed the ford Orstanor cried out in pain, sensing that the river contained a chaos-taint. Orstanor persuaded the party, over the protestation of Aransar, to follow the course of the river to locate the source of the taint, but after three days Orstanor lost the trail where the river merged with another. And so they headed back west.
Arriving back in the relative safety of Trilus, the party headed to their rooms at the Lightbringer’s hall. The elderly Chalana Arroy priestess, Dushi Sone greeted them and heard their story, for she knew of Torath Manover and his quest. She learned with regret of his death, and the party learned of the unspoken love between Torath and the adventuress Pay Surney, who also quested for the sword. She left to seek divine knowledge of the events to see if Aransar spoke truth, and yet knowing in her wisdom that such was the likely price to be paid by Torath for his single-minded goal.
For the duration of Sea Season the party remained in Trilus. They gave great riches to the retainers who had faithfully followed them through the Elder Wilds before informing them that they were free from service. They trained for a season and they paid a king’s ransom to have the iron enchanted so that it could be worn without blunting their magical power.
Then they had to make a decision. Should they seek further counsel, either from Forang Farosh, or from Minaryth Purple. Orstanor was certain that the sword was destined to be wielded by another and they needed to locate this person. Kulbrast only knew the dream that he had received more than a year ago that had led him to “the city of the White Walls” where the Windsword would be needed.
Eventually the decision was made to try to find the secret pass and by heading east into the Wastelands they would circumvent the Glowline and head back to Sartar from the east.
They were waylaid by trolls in the foothills of the mountains. The Uz set upon them seeking to recover from Aransar the ‘gift’ that he had stolen from Kyger Litor, but Aransar vanished into shadows that even Trolls could not penetrate. After making short work of the trolls that attacked, but aware of many more beyond the firelight who were gathering their courage to launch another assault against this lethal group of humans, the party fled into the east as the first rays of the Sun God began to creep into the skies.
After much travelling and several wrong turns they located the fabled castle of the giant, Gonn Orta, who guarded the passage of the mountains. Awed by the silent majesty of the huge giant, towering above them, they entered the strange village that had sprung up about the giant’s feet.
The ‘castle’ was a journey into the surreal for the party, so accustomed they had become to the staid walls of Trilus and the wilderness of the Elder Wilds. Several giants of smaller stature slept or dozed in massive pits gouged out of the ground. They found a ramshackle hut in the shanty town that announced itself as an inn, and entered through the low doorframe to discover the proprietor was a morocanth from the Wastelands.
They negotiated with the gruff character who went to get supplies for their trip through the desert back to the city of Pavis. When he returned, he announced that he had successfully bartered with the giants for water, food and fodder, but quoted an outrageous price. The canny morocanth bluffed and bargained, implying that the giants would not take kindly to any refusal. Eventually the party acquiesced, and went to sleep.
The next day they found their horses being loaded with the supplies they had purchased, but they were not prepared for the strange creature that was doing the loading. A bear-like creature with blue fur, its face covered by a bizarre mask, loaded the equipment onto their mounts. But most disturbing was the fact that it had human hands. This was too much for Orstanor, and the reckless Storm Bull decided there and then that the creature could only be chaotic. He lunged for his javelin, intent on killing the creature on the spot. Aransar and Kulbrast knew that this would likely mean the death of them all. Aransar cast protective magics on the bear-creature and Kulbrast commanded the spirit of the Windsword to attack Orstanor, who struggled but was eventually calmed.
But it was too late. One of the giants loomed overhead and bellowed a question, clearly irked. A huge hand gestured toward the gate and the party, realising their immediate peril left the bulk of their supplies scattered on the floor and fled from the castle toward the Wastelands. As they left, the giant reached down and picked up their spare mount and...Who knows? The characters didn’t spare a backward glance as they left the castle of Gonn Orta behind them.
They journey through the eastern pass was less eventful. They consolidated their plans and rationed their supplies, realising that their biggest peril would likely come from the fact that they rode horses, which the nomads despised. They clung to the slim hope that they would be able to evade any encounters with the nomads of the Wastelands.
It was not to be. The Hidden Greens had sprung forth from the desert, and the animal tribes had declared a truce in order to share in the Earth’s bounty. Signs of nomads were everywhere and camps could be seen for miles. Dust trails kicked up by the riders criss-crossed the land all around. Sensing trouble the party proceeded.
They first encountered a village filled with women and children. The totems and effects indicated Bison Tribe, and as the elderly shaman uttered venomous curses whilst the women and children cowered from the horse riding outlanders, a large group of warriors thundered up the slope toward the party. There was a standoff whilst the leader of the Bison Riders rode back and forth shouting challenges in Praxian. He then tried Tradetalk, telling the party that they were not welcome and that their horses were taboo. He then led a charge.
Aransar instructed everyone to hold fast, but the suspicious Saul, unaccustomed to the ways of the savage barbarians, cocked his crossbow, preparing for the worst and determined to sell his life dearly. But the riders stopped dead. Impressed by the character’s bravery in the face of a fatal charge the mood of the nomad leader softened somewhat, for these iron-clad warriors were clearly worthy foes. However, the presence of horses on the sacred ground was something he was not prepared to accept. Sensing the likely outcome, Kulbrast drew his sword and plunged it down between the shoulder blades of his horse, and, as it fell beneath him, he stepped to the side and then performed the Peaceful Cut, further impressing the nomads with his knowledge of the sacred rite. Terrified by the smell of blood the other horses panicked, and whilst Saul leapt from his wild mount the others followed Kulbrast’s lead and killed the horses that had served them so well during their time in the Elder Wilds.
The party were taken before the High Khan of the Bison Tribe, Akasta Ironspear. They prepared gifts of metal for him, and, failing to notice the mighty Khan’s name, they gifted the mighty warrior rather modestly. However, whilst clearly irked, the Khan seemed to take counsel from a mysterious figure at his side. This one was clearly not a nomad, although his face was covered by a shemagh and his features could not be made out. Whilst the party negotiated for passage across the plains, the Khan frequently took whispered counsel from the man and Aransar began to suspect the worst, fearing that he counselled against the party.
However, the identity of the stranger was finally revealed to be none other than Garrath Sharpsword – the Wind Lord who had initiated Aransar and Callum some two years previous. After enjoying his little joke, Garrath greeted Aransar enthusiastically. He had not been amongst his own people for over a year now, and knew this fortuitous meeting was a fateful moment. Aransar enquired about heading to Pavis, and Garrath informed him that the Tribe would indeed be travelling within sight of the walls of the Rubble. However, this was after a trip through the fiery heart of the Wastelands, on some quest in which the Bison Riders and the garrulous Wind Lord were compatriots. He would not talk about it here, he said, but that they had business in the Tunnelled Hills – a name from legend that sent chills down the spines of the characters. “Can you ride Bison?” asked Garrath, “Because you’re going to find out! The journey will take several seasons and we have a sacred ritual to perform when we get there!”