Whom the gods would destroy... — Legacy Forums

Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

#321

Aerex cleared his throat. "Right. Well." He pulled back his hat a bit. Although he'd testified in a few cases before the municipal tribunals of Jantir, and even once been called as an expert witness in a royal imperial trial, he didn't make public speeches a regular habit. And even then, those were formal courtrooms, where there was at least the facade of seeking truth and justice. Here, the inspector figured the crowd just as likely to attach him to some flaming instrument of death as his erstwhile ward.

Placing his hands behind his back, he began to pace in front of the wheel, imitating the barristers he'd seen in Jantir's courts. "Meisingholdters," he began, in as loud a clear voice he could muster. "You are a fair and just people. It is quite understandable that you have placed this man, Dujek, onto your wheel of justice given the circumstances you must have witnessed." He paused as a few murmurs went through the crowd.

"However. This is merely a case of mistaken identity, of mistaken purposes and motives. Has anyone of you actually spoken to this man? In speaking to him, you would surely recognize that he is, as medicine would call him, an idiot. There is in him no rationality, no reason. Intelligence? Perhaps. But it is not backed by any social ability, nor grace, nor sense. Dujek is, in short, incapable of rational thought, stricken from a heavy blow to the head some time ago. I cannot say whether his curse is the result of poor fortune or an affliction sent by a god, but regardless, we must grant that this man has little control over his thoughts, words, or - indeed - actions."

Aerex cleared his throat again. He couldn't gauge the mob's response yet, but he hoped they were at least a little opened by his argument. "Now then, having established that Dujek is incapable of reasonable action, we must also grant that his actions can be neither rational, nor guilty. They are irrational in that he cannot produce reasonable thought, and innocent in that they are irrational and meaningless. A man without sense could no more summon the dead than he could make a just offering to a god. Why? If he cannot have a true thought, then he cannot have true intent. While you doubtless found him muttering to himself and waving hands at your dead, it carried the same meaning as a parrot imitating the words of a priest: the words may have been the same, but the action is void and without power. There is no guilt in him, he is incapable of bearing guilt in a crime he cannot commit sanely.

"So then, having established that he cannot bear guilt in this, then we must conclude he is innocent of the charge brought against him. No doubt what he did was offensive, and in that I share your disgust. But to level death against him would be to strangle a cursing parrot - punishing with guilt that which cannot commit a crime. This, noble Meisingholdters, is the sin of injustice, a sin you would surely be loathe to commit. So if not for his sake, then for your own, Meisingholdt. Release this man to my custody, and I'll be sure that he troubles you no more."

Finishing, Matare sighed and held his breath, waiting to see if he should bow or run.

Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

#322

Tristan and the One-Eyed Mage

Murzok Gorbund opened his eyes. As soon as he did, he heard a low growl inches from his face. A huge wolf was staring back at him, a few fangs showing in warning.

“Easy doggy, easy”, the thief whispered and attempted to take in the rest of his surroundings, which wasn’t easy, since his legs and arms were currently tied to a stout birch tree, and his line of vision limited.

A few dozen feet away Murzok could make out the one-eyed mage, his captor, who had her back turned to him, stoking a small fire. He could not see it, but could smell a rabbit roasting. The thief licked his lips, thirsty and starved.

How long have I been tied up here, he wondered, and what was this &^%$@ planning for him anyway?

He was more than a little nervous. A day ago (two? He could not be sure), he was living high on the hog with his fellow miscreants, robbing travelers and raping an occasional village girl, who wandered too far from any given village to pick mushrooms or berries. Life was good. The new forest lair was perfectly situated, not too far and not too near from half a dozen thorpes and villages in the area, yet well-hidden. It seemed that all of Landeel was pre-occupied with some sort of local war, happening somewhere to the east, and it was easier than ever to perpetrate the kind of petty crimes that Murzo and his cronies were known for.

Until the day the one-eyed wench had stumbled upon their forest hide-out, unannounced and unwanted.
One thing led to another (what did she expect anyway, a warm welcome?) and before long, the mage had burned down their cabin, sending the criminals running in all directions.

The direction Murzok chose was the unlucky one, and before long the mage and her gods-forsaken wolf had caught up to him. Murzok tried everything. First his charm (that didn’t work), then he tried the “I’m-gonna-tear-your-teats-off!” approach to scare her (mistake, that), then finally he tried pleading (to no avail.)

Now, a few days later, he was her prisoner, and gods only knew what she had planned for him.

Murzok sighed, unable to move, and closed his eyes again, thinking of past lasses violated, and past woodsmen robbed at knife-point.

----------------------------

Tristan walked silently, making his way through forest-shrouded Landeel, his mind preoccupied with many thoughts. He was somewhat perturbed (still, though it was now weeks later) that he had somehow missed his rendezvous with Adan and Kyrian. But more so, his thoughts kept coming back to Jantir and the Symposium, where his impromptu speech had given rise to pandemonium, the likes of which had not been seen in Jantir for many years. It took quite a few squads of the bird-masked city guardsmen to quell the riots, as monks, priests, and holy men of every ilk, “warred” in the great amphitheater, and then the streets themselves.

And all because of Tristan’s speech...

----------------------------

The wolf suddenly left Murzok’s side, and sidled up to Kisanth, who was indeed roasting a scrawny hare her lupine lover had caught for her, hours earlier. A nudge with his nose, and a then a quick look toward the bawn of the forest, and the mage knew she had company.

Hopefully more of Murzok’s fellow scum, she had time to think, but then saw a tall, armored figure striding purposefully from the woods toward the clearing, where she was now making camp. A priest? A knight? Whoever it was, he was clearly lost in his own thoughts, though she could not gauge his expression or intent, due to the helm covering most of his face. She could not be sure. But certainly, not another Murzok.

Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

#323

Rising, Kisanth covered the scar and her missing eye with a lock of blonde hair by way of a quick shake of her head, raising her voice in cautious greeting; "Hail and well met traveler, where does such a purposeful pace take you?" She took a quick half step to the side, placing her staff between the brooding newcomers path and her roasting dinner, mildly concerned the armored oaf marching towards her would stride straight through her fire did she not acquire his attention before hand.

With a quick hand gesture she signaled Lover to keep an eye on her prisoner, she had plans for that one, a gelding with a hot blade for starters, and then some pointed follow up questions as to where the rest of his friends regrouping point was. Such filth were often worth a few coin as a bounty, and she'd heard accounts of this particular band of filth doing lots worse then merely waylaying travelling merchants for coin.

Such beasts needed to be put down like the sick animals they were; for the peace of the surrounding region and no small bit of justice.

Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

#324

(After some die rolls with Muro...)

Vorodon stepped back as the first of the behemoths leapt over the log, swinging its filthy spiked club in a mighty overhand chop. Lean and wiry for its kind, the ogre had affixed the withered heads of a dozen fallen foes to the battle-scarred face of its shield. The battered skulls rattled and clattered as the malevolent creature hurled itself forward.

Unfortunately for the monstrous warrior, it failed to spot the gleaming iron heads of Vorodon’s darts hidden among the tangled undergrowth. The ogre shrieked as the hidden weapon tore through its calf, its strangely high-pitched screech echoing through the forest as Vorodon stepped clear of its club’s wild swing.

Inspired by his trap’s success, Vorodon’s axe bored into his enemy's defenses in a relentless barrage of blows. Each powerful swing carved additional divots from the ogre's decrepit shield, the mighty impacts echoing through the trees like thunder. The ancient battle cries of Vorodon’s ancestors boomed out to punctuate his frenzied assault, his shouted imprecations condemning his foes as unworthy fodder for even Gora’am’s ravenous appetite.

In violent retaliation, the beleaguered ogre’s spiked club lashed out at the volgottir. Despite the wiry ogre’s fearsome power, Vorodon's ancestral armor proved impervious to the club’s iron spikes.

Suddenly, Vorodon saw the second ogre veering left to get behind him. Its ragged cowhide cloak tossed aside lest it tangle in the trees’ gnarled branches, it swung well clear of Voro’s hidden darts. In its meaty paws, this ogre grasped a massive weapon, a filthy saw-toothed falchion solidly affixed to a cumbersome, metal-shod pikestaff. A lesser warrior would be hard pressed to lift the massive polearm, but Vorodon’s foe made light work of it, tearing aside tree limbs with scything swings of its weapon.

This would not do! Vorodon kicked at the first ogre’s shield, driving it backward onto its injured leg. The wounded ogre screeched in pain, briefly falling to one knee as its wounded leg failed to support it.

Ducking away from his distracted foe, Vorodon ducked under a low-hanging limb and rushed toward this new opponent. He swung his axe to force his foe to guard its head, only to see it instead lurch backward, swinging its crude voulge up from below! Pain lanced through the hill warrior as the monster’s blade unexpectedly tore through his armor, biting deep into Vorodon’s leg. With an vengeful bellow, Vorodon staggered closer, his axe whirling wrathfully. It smashed across the creature’s head, sending its rusted helm flying off into the underbrush. The huge creature stumbled awkwardly against a tree, momentarily stunned by Vorodon’s mighty blow.

The ogres’ chieftain drew closer, slamming its grim axe’s haft against its rust-smeared breastplate to punctuate its shouted insults. A look of feral savagery filled its piggish red eyes.

Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

#325

The Moon-Calf and his Advocate

(ooc: successful Aerex charisma roll involved)

Orensil and the mob listened to Aerex’ impassioned speech, yet their reaction was hard to judge at first.

Someone mumbled, “He lost me at idiot”, another, “this is some trick”, yet a third muttered, “He makes sense, I mean look at that drooling buffoon sitting there, clacking his jaw.”

Finally, Orensil spoke.

“What you say makes sense. Did we mistake his gibbering for spell-casting, I wonder?”

"He does have the look of an imbecile”, Orensil added, glancing at Dujek, who was opening and closing his mouth wordlessly, trying to adjust his jaw.

"Well, citizens of Meisingholdt, what say ye having listened to this man’s tale?”

Aerex held his breath.

Then nature intervened.

A gentle roll of thunder sounded, and a steady drizzle began soaking the mob seconds later, cooling their murderous ardor.

A few mumbles, a few shouts of “Burn him anyway!” and a few retorts of “Well, can’t burn him now with the rain and all”. Some of the townsfolk actually began to separate from the mob, walking back to town.

A small boy approached Dujek, and tried poking him with a stick.

“Hear ye! It is my judgement on this Day of Worms, that the accused, shall be granted his freedom, and set free, with a caveat. If ever he is seen in Mesingholdt or its environs again, he will immediately be tied to horses and quartered.”

“Go now, simple Moon-calf” Orensil turned to address Dujek directly, "And know ye simpleton, that your life was saved by this man”, Orensil gestured at Aerex.

Without further delay, Orensil and the mob turned and returned to Meisingholdt, as the rain pattered harder now, not even bothering to untie Dujek’s ankle.

“They are lucky master. I was about to attack the red-faced, fat one.” Koschei telepathically muttered.

Aerex stood there staring at Dujek, drenched now, and Dujek sat there staring back at his savior in turn.

Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

#326

Aerex breathed a sigh of relief. "Never again, honorable mayor," he vowed with a slight bow, even as Orensil turned, waving a half-hearted hand in his direction. He adjusted his hat as the rain picked up, welcoming the cooling waters.

Then he looked down at the wretch that was now his ward. He gave another sigh, wearier than the one before it, and knelt down next to Dujek. "Well. Dujek," he began, untying the knot and brushing away the weird lizard Koschei as he did. "It's good to see you, I guess? How is it you ended up here of all places, anyway?" He paused, the knot halfway through. "And the others. Have you seen Talia? Or Vorodon? Or Adan?"

Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

#327

"Nope, not for a while, and truth be told people in this region aren't too fond of me, I've been following rumors of a 'giant ogre thing' for a while but the last few towns wouldn't even let me drink in the taverns." Dujek shrugs, "I'd actually given up even trying and just gone straight to sleeping in crypts."

Taking a quick inventory of himself, Dujek turned his crooked grin on Aerex, "Do you think you could get them to give me back my things?" Giggling, "It's for the mental stability of an imbecile after all."

Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

#328

Aerex nodded. "Giant ogre, eh? Sounds like it could be our Volgotir. Wonder what kind of trouble he's stirring up."

He smiled politely at Dujek's humor. He'd never say so, but he wasn't totally convinced the necromancer was completely sane to begin with. He considered Dujek's suggestion. "Well, I'm less than eager to reenter Meisingholdt after this whole misadventure. Either of us could end up back on that fire-wheel..." He bit his lip, recalling that whatever remains of Otto Quorridge's wealth were in waiting at the inn, along with the horses.

"What are you missing exactly? And where do you suppose it might be?" He wasn't about to risk his neck to get back a few trinkets, and he was positive he didn't want to bring up retrieval of Dujek's goods with Orensil. But he at least needed the transportation of the horses.

Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

#329

Just as the hyaenodon was about to break free and rush towards Kadarin, with visions of crushing the mage’s neck with its jaws, another inky-black morass enveloped the beast. It squealed in frustration as it was bound anew in Kadarin’s webs.

The lone soldier who didn’t burn, ended up as dead as his comrades, as he stumbled (tripped by Adan) toward Kyrian, only to be run through the chest, armor and all, from one strike from the Carmine Rose, backed up by Kyrian’s bull-strength thrust. The soldier fell dead immediately, staring down at the blade, with an astonished look upon his face.

Adan meanwhile, quickly picked up the soldier’s sword and attempted to end the hyaenodon’s misery, while avoiding the webbing himself. He found the exercise impossible, dropping the blade once more, in frustration.

The Hyaenodon moaned in anguish.

Now the companions turned to look upon the battling ogres. It seemed Vorodon was holding his ground against the savage assault, but now five ogres in total were attacking the Volgottir, and it seemed the tide of battle would soon turn.

Worse, Kadarin could now spy more ogres back in the camp, mobilizing.

Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

#330

T & K

"Oh-hO!! Blessings and praise be upon you!!" Murzok suddenly shouted. "A priest of Trigu! Help me! Save me from this savage one-eyed witch! Trigu be good, HE sends me salvation!"

Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

#331

Turning, Kisanth arched an eye brow at the bandits unexpected burst of verbal diarrhea, at least when he was unconscious he was tolerable. "You have the balls of a northern ox to dare expect salvation from a priest of light after your spree of murder and rape across the country side!"

She closed her eye for a half second, she sighed inwardly before speaking again, her fury at Murzok replaced by a cold measure of control. "It is indeed fortunate you have arrived priest, you can perform last rites for this man before his execution." She turned and fixed Murzok with a piercing gaze, hoping to silence any further outbursts until she could properly greet the new arrival.

(OCC: Intimidation roll on a d20 = 12+ any appearance bonus for her missing eye and facial scar.)

Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

#332

Tristan

By the time a Brother is sworn in, he knows very well that not everyone in the world believes the same things, holds the same values, or has a moral code bearing any approximation to recognizable ethics. Furthermore, a major point of the requisite traveling all sworn clerics of Trigu must perform is to utterly burn any remaining vestiges of such foolishness from their psyche. The world is not a unified place, and to change the world for the better, one must acknowledge the imperfections of the present.

Tristan knew all of this. He had taught in many villages, and been tossed out of just as many others because the residents didn't like being told that their ancient customs were morally degenerate. He had very quickly developed a sense for when a topic would cause issues with a crowd, and tended to come at such things obliquely, attempting to undercut objections with rock solid arguments. Usually such a strategy worked nicely, and people changed their opinions and practices.

So to say that the crowd's reaction to his simple speech about rampant expansionism was unexpected would be putting it mildly.

He just didn't understand it. He had provided significant evidence from first-hand observations in the towns and villages annexed along the borders. He had even drawn some graphs and run rudimentary calculations. So why had the amphitheater gone mad when he concluded that the Empire's expansionistic tendencies were destroying productivity and prosperity both at home and abroad? It didn't make sense.

...

The break in trees marking the boundary between forest and clearing, combined with the smell of something quite tasty, broke through his brooding thoughts. Someone was making camp of some kind.

Huh. Not every day you see a wolf and a human interacting peaceably...

"I'm not much of one to jump to conclusions, but it does appear there's some bad blood here; it's a good thing I came by when I did. Since I'm also not one to condone killing without cause, I'd be interested in hearing what caused this strife."

Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

#333

For the moment, there was little that Adan could do to reach the hyenadon, at least not without capturing himself, save to use the giant bow once more. And that was strategically unacceptable. By the time he'd managed to fetch his oversized "bow", draw the thing, and put a ballista bolt in the beast, the half-ogre would be dead, and the hyenadon probably loose. So, he gestured for the knight, the wizard, and the mouse to follow. There was more blood to be shed for now.

As he ran for Voradon's side, the razor's edge of his short sword found his hand once more. It felt right to have Northman's steel in his hands again, the same sort of blade he had held since he was a child of five, much better than the clumsy Jantiri gladius he had been issued during his exile. It felt right to be defending the forests of his home. And so as he went, he sang. Not the song of vengeance that he had sung before, but a hymn of praise and thanks unto Trigu.

Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

#334

Kisanth rolled her eye at the unwanted intrusion to her evening meal and impending interrogation, grateful at least she had caught the mans attention before he stumbled over her dinner.
"The strife you refer to is this goblin dropping covered in human skin," she paused long enough to gesture to the bandit with her staff. "has been raiding the country side with his fellow band of brigands, pillaging, robbing young girls of their virginity against their will, and murdering as they pleased."

She knelt down and placed a small dagger into the side of the fire, burying its blade in the coals before continuing. "When I encountered their encampment after hearing numerous tales of their misdeeds from the nearby village this man and his companions assaulted me and Lover," She turned to pat her wolf affectionately on the head, "and he threatened to cut my tits off, which is the reason behind the teeth marks in his back side and the broken nose." Her eye narrowed as she recalled the encounter, and how slippery the man went from praises and promises to threats and assault.

"For his numerous accounts of rape I plan to castrate the man with a hot blade after Lover and me enjoy dinner, and save this violator from his uncontrollable urges to force himself upon anything with a pulse. After I will inquire as to his fellow bandits regrouping hide out and pay them a visit come first light. You are welcome to share our fire and rabbit if it pleases you, and ensure the man survives his gelding."

Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

#335

"Well, they took my spare socks, my cane, and a beautiful carving of Vorodon I'd been making over the last few months, out of some fine rosewood I managed to pick up for a steal. If I can say so myself, it was really starting to actually resemble him."

Dujek went silent for a moment, looking at the lizard that was previously busy pulling rope fibers out of its mouth.

Why do you have to lie so much about that thing? Just admit that you're a failure as an artist and be done with it, you'll feel so much better.

"Quiet Koschei, I wasn't talking to you and you wouldn't know art if it killed you." Frowning, Dujek looked back to Aerex, "Where was I? Oh, right. The villagers were sure that it was some fell idol to whatever dark god they figured I worshiped. And they got my spellbook too. I liked that spellbook and I'd be very sad if I wasn't able get it back."

Dujek looked at the departing lynch mob and then up into the rain, with his most winning smile and a brief chuckle he continued, "They at least left me my boots, I don't think I'd be so willing to not disembowel a few of them and let their animated intestines loose on them otherwise."

Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

#336

Kyrian was dismayed that the ogres turned away from him, to overwhelm Vorodon.
"What shame, indignity, inequity of foe division? I shall divide a few of them myself - in halves proper and equal!"
Fuelled by the might suffusing him, he charged at the ogres, cleaving one, straight down the middle!

"May I have your attention, sir? You inadverently left me out of combat - which by this I remedy."

(woo! A 19 rolled to hit, 4 damage on the dice, +bonuses)

Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

#337

The cleric of Light raised an eyebrow at the synopsis of events. "A heinous crime, rape. I'm not sure of the penalties under Jantirian law, but under Divine law it's punishable by death. Failure to actually commit the crime holds no defense either, for the sin has already been committed and the danger to society at large revealed. I see no reason to ensure that he survives his just punishment; Trigu will see to it that he survives if in His Divine Providence this soul might still be saved.

"All of this, of course, assumes that this brigandish-looking individual is indeed what you say he is," Tristan examined the entire area, subconsciously touching on both the woman and her prisoner, seeking a resonance in their souls that would provide a much quicker judgement of character and possible guilt than trying to find physical substantiation of their individual claims. Alas, his divine senses could determine nothing beyond a mild staining of the prisoners soul, something that came across to his consciousness as an intuitive sense of griminess. "Are you more concerned with vengeance or with justice? I cannot in good conscience let someone be irreversibly punished thusly without some proof beyond your mere words, however much they ring with the clarity of truth."

Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

#338

Kisanth paused, listening to the new comers words and tilting her head slightly at the wisdom they held, looking down at Lover afterward as if to gauge his reaction. "Were our role reversed and I had come across this scene I too would likely react as you have, and feel compelled to ensure justice was being carried out, and not petty revenge or twisted perversion."

She reached down with the end of her staff and flicked the knife from the embers, it's hot blade hissing against the damp earth in protest. "Would you be agreeable to assisting me in conveying this..." She searched for a word that was not too unlady like to describe the slime before her, "Prisoner, to the near by town of Lannister? They are the ones who have suffered at his hands, and other body parts, most grievously, I am sure they will help provide recognition and be quite eager to administer punishment on one who has torn so much from their lives."

Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

#339

"Most certainly, lady. Once a hand is played, it must be seen through to the end. I shall help you convey him to the townspeople, who I'm sure will be most agreeable in administering appropriate justice, if needed. After, what say you to hunting down the other criminals that have wronged both you and the good people of Lannister?"

Tristan looked to the silent and bound suspected-bandit and raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Have you anything to say in your defense?"

Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

#340

Aerex shook his head firmly. "No, no disemboweling." He crossed his arms, tapping a finger against his elbow in thought. "Well, you will be needing your spellbook, I imagine. I don't think Orensil would be particularly willing to hand it over, though."

He shrugged, turning toward Dujek. "Worth a try, I guess. But you're not coming with. Fire-wheel or no, they'll find a way to kill you if they see you again. Why don't you head north aways, a little further from the town. I'll head back in and see what I can do to retrieve whatever I can. No guarantees, but hopefully I can get out with at least your spellbook. Maybe even my skin."

Re: Whom the gods would destroy...

#341

Vorodon briefly considered the odds amassing against him. He might be able to string them out by fleeing through the underbrush, but his armor would surely slow him more than the slipshod gear of the other ogres. Furthermore, the enemy chieftain’s plan was obvious: Let his troops soften Vorodon up, only joining the battle after the volgottir was battered and exhausted. He must be made to join the battle first!

Vorodon held up a meaty hand in parley, the other clutching his axe before him to parry. There was no guarantee that his foes would pause in their assault. “Vorodon little Volgottir, for but bigger Chieftain senting others fight. Vorodon no understanting! Cow-eater Chief fear-fill for from one little Volgottir? Not like fight self-alone, so make hant of Volgotoi fighting inseat? Vorodon thinking Chief eating too more cowheart!”