An act of Kord

We set camp for nightfall. Nothing exciting in these pasture lands, under the protection of the crown. It feels so different; so alien; so far away from the forest. I miss the forest. The old days were happy ones. Difficult yes. At times lonely. But happy ones nevertheless. I have been watching the stars for some time now when I hear a strange sound. Outworldy and yet so familiar. I can't pinpoint it, but it is something from my past. The stars seem to be moving; slowly at first then faster and faster. An image was forming. An image I knew well. I have seen it plenty of times in my sleep. I have seen his form next to me in battle when the rage takes over me. Kord was making an appearance; in full battle gear

In times of peril; in times of woe.
Another place; another world.
The sword that was; the blade to be.
The grandfather and the son form the key.

Through the gate; the shadow lies.
All wander; everyone dies.
But one must fall; in a place of gloom.
A legend dies to perish the doom.

His words continue to ring in my head. The dream fled quickly my mind, but the words have been imprinted with fire and brimstone. What could they mean. I riddle for sure. The sword? Old Grandfather? Perhaps. At times it does seem that the sword has a mind of its own. When the blood runs the hottest during a battle the sword seems to take over my actions. Protecting me. I felt it the strongest with the bestial orc lord in the inn.

What can it mean? What? My past has always been like a fog-filled night. So close and yet so far; always just a hair away from clarity. It seems that my dreams follow the same road.

But Kord; Kord has always been true to me. He was always there. A trusted friend. A worthy companion. A terrible enemy. Fearsome to friends and enemies alike. And I, just one of his children; a spike in his fire chariot's wheels.

The omen will reveal its true meaning in due time. Till then the Grandfather and I have work to do; with flesh and blood...

Civilization

- You fought bravely and have earned a well deserved rest, and my respect, but I need to ask a favor from you, says the dwarf sergeant in hastened words. I need you to bring warnings to the nearest fort, so that they may send help.
- We need to travel fast, Sonia replied. We could use the help of some of the mules I saw in the stables.
- Yes, you could, but, alas, the orcs in their flight killed the poor animals. You will have to walk. Rest now. I’ll asks the priests to tend to your wounds in the morning, so that you may leave immediately. Time is of the essence.

With those words we retreated to our rooms. An unnerving sleep washed over me. Strange dreams visited me in the night. Dreams about “The Grandfather”. A strange sense of power permeates this old sword. There is writing that has almost faded from the blade. And the metal itself. No matter how much care I take, no matter how much I try to polish it. The metal is dull. Not dirty, or unkempt, but something else. As if it is not steel per se. I will have to find out. Perhaps this will give me a trail to my birth parents. It is time to find out my true heritage.

The morning came uneventful. We set out at dawn towards the fort to the north. The halfling was slowing us down the poor thing. Very capable with that blade of hers, but short on the stride. I took her on my shoulders once or twice to speed up our pace.

Vadania was even less accustomed to the roads than I was. A creature of the forest. So fragile and yet so deadly with her bow. I could feel her gaze upon me from time to time, but I could not know of her thoughts. We hadn’t spoken much. We never did. I could only but hope that there was something more in her heart for me, but for now her cards were kept slowly to her chest.

We reached the fort on the morning of the third day. The letter from the dwarf proved more than enough for the commanding officer to offer us food, shelter and safe passage to Anathull, the Golden Plane, a small village, as he said, further towards Bravil.

We took the first caravan out and a week later we arrived at our destination. A “small village” indeed! Ganannath was but a 400 souls hamlet compared to Anathull! A tall wall made of wood, stone and metal joints was build around it. From the top of the hill we could see buildings as far as the eye could see! From what the half-elf leader of the caravan had told us this was a small village indeed of about 5000 people!! The number was huge. I could not remember so many trees in the area of Ganannath, and here was a multitude of races, professions and building. It seems that the outside world was even bigger than I imagined.

We were looking for a way to earn a living, now that we had nothing left, but it seemed that work was in fact looking for us. A trip to the commander of the guard to relieve myself of the trophies I got from the goblinoids revealed that there was a need for a good blade, and perhaps a bow and a knife. The commander asked me if I could but help him with a problem we had in one of the southeastern farms. A killer was on the loose. Already four of his men went missing while trying to investigate the situation. He would pay 150 gold pieces! A king’s ransom! I could not count that much!

And then again, while selling of the wolf skins a dwarf came up to me. Or better yet came down to me. Too short to even be bothersome I guess. He had the look of a trapper. He had the equipment it seemed. He even had the smell. He mentioned of a strange “birdie” that he needed help trapping. I told him that we would meet him a couple of hours later in the central square.

But, the strangest thing came in the weapons smith. He had a particular interest in “The Grandfather”. He inquisited as to the nature of the sword. “It was my fathers’” I told him. The truth as I knew it. He asked me to come back so that he could take a better look at it. It seemed that the dream was right. Something about the greatsword did not fit.

As we later met the trapper and set out to find his “birdie” I had a day-dream. An image more likely. I was holding “The Grandfather” above my head. My other hand was holding the head of Burgs’ killer, and at my feet scores of orcs dead or dying. A strange glow was emanating from the sword.

A knock on the door...

The days passed with no troubles. Tranquility and sorrow settled in our hearts. The faces of the lost ones passed by in our dreams and in the madness of our drunken state. The sanity was kept through the easy going character of Sonia, and the sight of Vadania.

It is our fourth night here at the inn. I'm at the bar listening to the stories of Hammerhand, our landlord. He has lived through a lot, and has endured even more. Over his head I can see his great hammer hanging on the wall. Well-polished, but you can clearly see the scars from ancient battles. It has seen its share of blood and is probably responsible for the deaths of thousands. Just like "The Grandfather". Waiting for its next call to battle.

Vadania is having her beer next to me. Strange for an elf, but I guess that her ranger ways have taught her to be tough. Sonia is by the fireplace, constantly trying to struck up a conversation with the local sergeant, a dwarf. More muscles than brains it seems, always on the edge and careful of strangers. The halfling rogue makes him very itchy.

A group of mercenaries on the other side of the table have probably seen their share of war. Their armor is a map of hardship, and their faces the very image of suffering from lack of food. They are slowly regaining their strength.

The front door opens and two hooded figures enter. Their dump appearance the only clue to the light rain that has started a few minutes ago. Maces, shields, and heavy armor. Clerics. As they unhood and head towards the fireplace the sign of Pelor becomes clearly visible on their breastplates.

Time passes slowly as we are about to head to our rooms, when one of the guards rushes in the room.
- ALARM!! ATTACKERS!!
- BARRICADE THE DOOR AND WINDOWS! shouted Hammerhand. SOMEONE TO THE TOP FLOOR! he went on looking at us.

People started running around, taking place by the door; shutting windows; preparing for the onslaught. We rushed to the top floor accompanied by a guard. everything was in slow motion. We quickly shut the windows watching in the distance fires approaching. Cavalry it seems, but no horses. Something more sinister. We observed for a while until we saw the enemy clearly. They were upon some strange bipedal monsters. Definitely not horses. We shut the final window, placed the guard to stand watch in the corridor and headed for the window overlooking the front door.

The orcs were pounding with axes on the door. The perfect target. 3 meters right below us. Vadania showered them with arrows and Sonia with pebbles. Lacking anything weapon-like to throw them I improvised. First went a chair, and then a bed-side table. It crashed on the unfortunate head of an orc below us. When he woke up in the morning he never thought that the last thing he would see in this life would be the over-used, crumbling bed-side table of a derelict inn.

We certainly had their attention now. Axes came flying to the window, but nothing seem to touch us. I threw back a few of them with much more success than their previous owners had.

!!!CRASH!!!!

Something collapsed further in. A breach in one of the back rooms. At the same time the door below us started giving in.

I quickly rushed to the corridor, a couple of throwing axes on my hands. The first flew true to the orc that appeared on the other side of the corridor. Quickly drawing my sword I met them in battle. A scratch from one of them. I returned the favor by decapitating him and his two buddies.
But the horror had yet to come. A huge orc appeared in the corridor. Well over two meters, clad in scale mail; a huge barbed mace in his hands. There is only one way to fight a beast: You must embrace the beast within you.

The rage overtakes me and I charge the brute. I land a devastating blow on his breast, but I'm quickly faced with the wrong end of his mace. He throws me aside ignoring the pain and rushes the guard. Halfling stone and elf arrow do little to his attack, but luck is not at his side. A well placed spear thrust from the guard extinguishes his fire.

I on the floor; blood gushing from the huge wound. I can see hands being placed upon me and a warmth filling my mind and body. One of Pelor's priest has given me his blessing.

But there is no time to waste. We re-barricade the broken window and head down to help.

The ground floor is a puzzle of chaos. Humans, orcs, and a dwarf, all caught up in the strange ballet of death. C on the floor. The metallic smell of blood starts dwelling in my nostrils. We throw ourselves in the fray. Rugged dolls in a perfectly orchestrated play. Kord, our puppet master, is going to be pleased tonight. The sacrifice to his name is plentiful.

The end comes quickly. From the fifty plus orcs only half a dozen or so escape upon their monstrous beasts. But the toll is devastating. About half of us remain standing.

This is only the beginning...

Amongst Ruins

The morning came with no disturbances. The elf was already up, peering through the morning darkness for anything unusual. She looked stunning in her outfit. She always did. But she never did show a sign. Always aloof. I didn't give one either, so that makes it even I guess.

Breakfast was lean, dry, cold and sober. Yeap. Happy days were over, and from the look of things they would not come again for some time.

We set out carefully to search the village for any survivors. "Anything standing" would be a more appropriate phrasing. Gannanath was no longer. The outer wall had but vanished. The only thing that remained of the village was rubble upon rubble. Everything that could be broken was broken. And the smell. That terrible smell. The smell of corpses. Our decapitated fellow villagers. They were everywhere. A dark reminder of the horrors that took place here just a couple of nights ago. The smell was penetrating every single pore on our bodies. I will never forget the smell.

We searched a bit, but it was soon obvious that nothing could be found. Nothing living was left living. Nothing useful was left behind. Nothing man-made was left standing. The destruction was total.

Suddenly a noise. Something coming from the forest with no want to cover its approach. Orcs! I felt the anger fill me up, but they were many. We quickly took cover as best we could.

They came from the west. A patrol of sorts. Warg riders and warriors, and in the lead a huge orc. He still carried his trophy. I could clearly discern Burg's crooked nose. His head was hanging like a pouch on the leader's belt. His milky-white eyes seemed to look straight into mine, burning forever in my mind. You will be avenged friend, even if I have to descend into the burning Nine Hells of Baator!

A warg approached the hiding place of Vadania, sniffing the air. My fingers tightened around the hilt of my sword. I was ready to leap on the foul beast. I was ready to die right then and there. The ward sniffed. I could imagine Vadania shaking. Hold on just a few more seconds my dear. The beast was satisfied and left. Soon the group moved out of the village. Out of the village, but not out of my mind. I will look out for your face orc. Soon your head will adorn my belt. I shall carry it as a banner against your foul brethren.

After a few minutes we carefully exited our hiding places. The orcs were heading towards Olthar. The only thing we could do was to quickly report to Soh Gualar, the nearest village, about a week's worth of walking away, so we set off as fast as we could.

The trail was hard, but not worth the trip. Soh Gualar was another massacre. From our vantage point we could discern the burning carcass of the village. Humans were caught completely off guard. Nothing remained, same as before. Higher authorities should be notified. Immediately!

---

We marched for days, avoiding the paths of the forest. No fire. No stops. Hard march. Constantly evading goblin and orc patrols. By this time they had flooded the whole forest. Nothing was able to stop the onslaught. At least, nothing right now.

The nights were broken only by sudden night sounds and the constant vigilance we had to keep. The only real event was during the fourth night of our flight. A shadow cut made a sudden attack during my watch, but was quickly dispatched.

Finally, on the eight day we reached the clearing. A small country road leading towards the highway. Apart from a Gnoll ambush which we avoided nothing else happened until the highway. I prayed to Kord for his blessing in getting safely out. A small donation to Fharlanghn, the god of travel, was fit, so I thanked him as well.

Hooves' sounds in the distance. The rogue and the ranger took cover as the highway patrol approached. This could go very bad indeed. I suddenly became aware of my appearance. "A moving, muddied, wet, unshaved rug" would be a good description. The best course of action was to make myself clearly seen, so I stepped in the middle of the road and held my hand up as a sign. The horsemen stopped in front of me, all glad in full armor. Certainly not a match if things got on the wrong foot.

- Who are you? asked their leader. A burly man, almost my size. A priest of some kind. And tell your friends to come out of hiding. Vadania and Sonia quickly obliged.
- The last survivors of Gannanath, I replied. The forest is under an invasion from the goblins and orcs.
- Invasion? Are you sure boy?

I gave him no answer. The pouch full of fresh goblin and orc ears was enough evidence. He quickly changed pose.

- My men will take you to the nearest inn to rest.
- We want to help. Our friends, people that we knew forever, died. Slaughtered. We want to participate in whatever way we can. And we know the layout.
- Good. Report to the fort towards Bravil as soon as you 're able.

---

By nightfall we had reached the inn. The first descent meal in weeks. And a bath! The bed was soft and warm. Not that I paid any attention. I slept before hitting the pillow. My dreams were filled with the horrors we had witnessed, but a glimmer of hope was in the air. A meadow. Vadania is there, playing with the birds. I watch from a distance. Some day. Yes. Some day...

Invasion!

The 4 goblins proved easy adversaries. Although they manage to wound me, my father’s training proved more than a match to them. It was a good death for them. Too good. My strokes were swift and deadly. An overkill you might say.

I marked myself with their still warm blood. The elf-ranger and the stealthy halfling were casting disgusted looks at my back, but I did not care. This was my initiation. This was my ritual. My heritage. I could not abandon traditions handed down to me through generations untold, through time immemorial.

Now I am a true Barbarian! My sword held high above my head I let loose a battle cry; a cry of victory; a right of passage!

After patching me up, we quickly searched the bodies. Nothing fancy. A few copper and silver coins. I took some trophies from their bodies. They might prove valuable back in civilization. A quick survey of the surrounding area revealed nothing of interest. We had to push on. East towards the river.

An hour or so away we finally reached the bank. The waters were fast and ice cold. Spring was coming fast and the winter snows from high up the mountains was beginning its long journey back to the sea.

Tracks! Wolf and goblins. Another scouting party most probably. Heading away from the river, to the north. We too changed directions following them. A few days in after losing and re-finding the tracks we heard it.

A sound unlike anything that had been heard for nearly a century. Drums. Orcish war drums to be precise. And they were close. It sounded as if a temporary camp was somewhere ahead of us, probably half a days walk.

As I was a few dozen feet ahead of the others I heard them stop. They were discussing something. Cannot hear what they are saying, but it sounds trivial. Then everything goes to hell!

Both of them turn and shoot their missiles at something high in the tree tops. A goblin scout comes crashing down, but not before he raises an alarm. A wolf rider and his sidekick come to investigate, and instead of seeing a friend they come face to face with "The Grandfather". The battle was quick. The came down like sand castles in the encroaching waves.

We quickly followed their trail back to the river; the site was heart-pounding. There, just a few feet away, on the other side of the river, hundreds of orcs, goblins, wolfs and wargs. Bridges had been thrown over the river. An invasion was starting.

9 days doing zigzags to avoid patrols. 9 days of hard running in the wood, barely resting for a moments peace. and then finally. Familiar grounds. A few hours away from home. But something permeates the atmosphere. The wind brings down the smell of smoke and ass. The smoke is coming from the village. The long fingers of death linger above the hills. We must be careful.

We approached from the west, towards my farm since it was away from the village. Carefully, from within the tree-line we crawled all the way to my house. Aidan was nowhere to be found and probably dead. My anger had started to build.

My companions slowly entered through the window of my bedroom and prepared a flanking attack. I crawled to the front door and stormed inside yelling, sword held high. The three goblins were taken by surprise, but the orc warrior dashed quickly in the fray from my pantry. I could no longer hold on to the rage. It came over me. A terrible blood lust that swept everything away.

It took only a few minutes, but I do not remember anything. I was covered in blood, some of it mine, but mostly from the foul humanoids under my feet. A dead kobold was right in front of me. Just another target that I hadn't even understood when it attacked me. The orc was a few feet away decapitated.

I patched myself quickly enough; We gathered some provisions from the left overs and headed towards Vadania's place. With any luck it would not have been found.

We were correct. The night was coming in fast and we took a well deserved rest. Investigation of the village would have to wait until the morning.

Initiation

I have been up before the break of dawn. A lonely breakfast and haste for the chores of the day. No. They are not chores. It is the only thing that keeps me calm. I feel free whenever I'm in my fields. Alone. Wind in the face. Sun on my back. Muscles stretching, aching with every move I take. I pleasurable ache. The only place I cannot hurt others, yet use what Kord had plentifully given me.

Aidan, my work horse, was restless this morning. Something in the wind is changing. I can feel it too in my bones. My eyes kept falling on my fathers sword during breakfast. My hands were itching to wield it once more. Father had trained me well. "The Grandfather" is my heritage. It will soon see battle once more. Once more it will drink blood in fury. The day is coming. It is in the wind.

I'm still in the field when Burg comes strolling down the path from the village. Years ago I broke his nose and left arm in a brawl. We were kids. Four of them taunted me and harassed me. When push came to shove I shoved. I shoved hard. I was twelve at the time and my rage is still the talk of the village in some circles. They think I don't know. They keep their distance, but it suits me just fine. When you are the "giant" at the village you are always shunned.

- Morning Krull. The scar on his face is still visible. Years have passed and respect has settled in to replace youthful hate. I nod a good morning and await for the news. The village elder has called for you in the town hall.

- I'll stable Aidan and be right over. There is some water by the gate to freshen up if you want. Yes. Respect. And fear. I can smell it. I'm still the outcast. Some things never change I guess.

- Thanks. I'll see you later in the village then. I nod. A small pause. He wanted to say something, but decides otherwise and leaves. There is nothing to be said. The past is past. We have both grown since then.

Having secured Aidan and preparing a small snack for the 15-minute trip to the village I set of. There have been some strange talk from wanderers for some time now. Something is moving in the forests in the south-east. Something sinister. Yes. "The Grandfather" will be brandished once more. And the beast within will be unleashed into the world. I fear and hope for that day.

The old town hall stands taller than all buildings in the village. A symbol of power some say. Vanity more likely. Vanity of men. Even the village temple does not stand so high. Yet this has always the way of things. People want to compensate for what they don't have and try to instill fear to the simple folk.

I'm ushered quickly up to the upper floor, straight into the elder's office. Vadania, our local ranger, is already here, sitting in all her beauty on one of the chairs. She is probably one of the few people that can understand me being an elf and all. She has known fear in other peoples' eyes for more time than I have been alive. And we do share another common link. She too lost her parents early on in her life.

Sonia, the small halfling came in late. Well, she could have been here a while, but she has a knack for disappearing out of thin air.

- Now that you are all here let me tell you that whatever you hear is for your ears only. The elder had never been so serious before. Grave serious one might say. We have a problem. Goblins have been sited a week away to the south, south-east of the village. I need you three to find out what is going on. Haste is of the essence. The premonition was right then. You can gather some basic equipment from here. I don't want to alarm the whole village. You must leave quietly, when our compatriots are fast asleep.

The order/request was given. The difficult part was finding a suitable suit of armor. Finally a nice, worn leather suit was just my size. The day was uneventful. I spend it gathering a week's rations and cleaning the old greatsword. I practiced swinging it at dusk. The memories of long training started coming back. Muscles stretching, pulling, feeling the balance of things. The riddle of steel, as once was passed on to me:

"Krull, the strength of steel is nothing compared to the hand that yields it. You must learn to harness your power. Drive it to the killing blow."

My father's words still echo in my head. They start ringing more true than ever before.

At the dead of night Vadania and Sonia were at my doorstep. We moved quickly. There was some talk about Gods and powers of the land between the elf and the halfling, but I didn't pay much attention. My mind was in the freedom I felt in the forest. A freedom I hadn't felt in a long time, not since the days I run free in the forest chasing my next meal, a few weeks after my mother's passing four years ago.

We have been trying to find tracks for nearly a week now. Vadania was purplexed. I spent my time hunting in order to replenish our supplies. The local wildlife was plentyful and with all the small streams we had no problem filling our bellies.

Finally, at the seventh day a track! Goblins it seems. The ranger was certain. Not half a day ahead of us. We made haste. In the early morning we found the left overs of their fire. They were really close. Maybe an hour or two. A scouting party of sorts. We kept our vigil and the answer came within the hour. We spotted two goblins hiding in the trees. An ambush! They attacked swiftly, covered by arrows of another two, but they were not expecting a resistance.

This WAS a scouting party. And they were heading towards the river. Something foul was readying itself in the woods and beyond the stream. Something bad for the village. We had to push on and find out what.