Another shorter story never meant to be a story . . .
The group that is presently being played in the 3rd iteration of my own gaming system, Tryskeleon, has been out goofing off, as it were. Time to drop on them an epic task and make them earn their livings. Almost all of the folk in the group are the sons and daughters of powerful folk, and they now need to live up to the deeds of their ancestors. Sooooo . . .
. . . enter a prophecy and a nearly legendary figure named Tarl deCourbet . . . and his friend, King Dargoth Bloodaxe.
The Council of AvonLore
1
- Upon
creation of the Realm of AvonLore, King Thurstone the First was in his full
intelligence and sense of right. He was sure of his decision making, but
he also knew that he needed council, and that his descendants might need it
more than he. He created the Council of AvonLore as an advisory body not
technically attached to the day-to-day management of the Realm of the House of
Lords.
- The members of the council include lords of
the realms (Kenshar, Abelarde, Westerfield, Freidland, the Calendrian March,
etc.), as well as those identified as ‘Councilors of the Realm’. Tarl
deCourbet and Owayn Isenbeorn were the first identified as such, and there are
few who are assigned this title (as was Kark Helios’hand). Others who often
are called to attend but have no decision making role are the High-Clerics of
the leading Cults, but only those specified by the King (usually the Cults of
Thundarus, Dana, Helios, Athenae, Gwendolyn).
2
A prophecy uttered at the exact moment of the crowning
of Thurstone the First as Lord of AvonLore revealed that, “In the future,
AvonLore will be threatened with utter extinction unless the folk of the land
remain watchful. Even then, the actions of a few may eventual save
all. The mark of the ‘fey’ will be on these saviors and they will bring
honor upon themselves and those that came before them.”
The
leaders of AvonLore, especially those who have power over the lands, have been
privy to the prophecy and have watched for decades for signs of this catastrophe.
Recently,
the crown learned of the death of a member of the Order of the Light in far off
land of Nesloryan. The deceased
champion was talking with a follower of Gwendolyn, a witch and seer who was
having a vision. As she was telling of
a great catastrophe that would soon befall Nesloryan, the witch was attacked by
a strange spirit; the witch and the champion of the Order of Light were both
killed, but the witches niece witnessed the attack and fled. When word
arrived in AvonLore of this prophecy in the lands on the eastern continent,
those in AvonLore who know of their prophecy begin to realize that watching
AvonLore and the regions around the realm may not have been enough . . . the
threat may be a wider one. This new
information leads those that have been watching to wonder if they have been
blind to the arrival of the threat.
King
Thurstone II, grandson of King Thurstone I and son of King Aramis, called for a
meeting of the Council of AvonLore. Once gathered, the Council discussed
the possibly of a connection between the two prophecies. The assembled
lords decided that an immediate investigation be launched to an effort to
discover any connection between the two prophecies and the source of the spirit
that silenced the prophecy of Nesloryan.
It was decided that someone must be assigned to manage the effort. As Lady Isabel deCourbet began to make a
motion to determine the leader of this investigation, King Thurstone turned to
Tarl deCourbet. “Tarl deCourbet, friend of my father and
grandfather, there is no one more capable than you to manage this effort.”
3
After the council meeting ends, young Thurstone asks
Tarl to meet with him in his private office. Upon his arrival, he finds
Thurstone awaiting him and King Dargoth entering to join
them. Dargoth strides slowly but without a sign of
lameness despite his advanced age (119 yrs old); he has a long-handled axe that
he uses as a cane, but he does not lean upon it. Tarl believes that
Dargoth could just as easily use that axe to cut down a dozen foes if
threatened.
The three make a few decisions in their
short meeting, although Dargoth makes few comments and
simply affirms most of the decisions when Thurstone looks his way for
approval. It is decided that they will expand their watchers and use
in-place allies to assist whenever possible. As no watchers of AvonLore
have been present in Nesloryan, they decide to ask the Order of Light to assist
in that region, as they are former allies and have been active in that region for
over a hundred years.
Tarl is in charge of the effort, but he
is to brief Thurstone and Dargoth occasionally, and he is
expected to check in to keep up on any important intel gathered. Tarl
chuckles and agrees, knowing that his wife Gwendolyn will keep him in contact
and advise him of anything important.
A few other minor things are ironed out
in this meeting and it breaks up about dinnertime. Thurstone leaves via
the door into his main offices, while Dargoth and Tarl
leave and head down the balcony towards the main hall for dinner. They
walk along the second floor of the palace/fort looking down at the courtyard
garden below . . . Tarl matches the pace of his old friend as they walk . . .
"That
boy has a lot of his grandfather in him," Dargoth
says as he walks along. "His father Aramis was a good man, but he
had trouble being a good king. You and I both know that Lily (wife of
Aramis, daughter of Morganstern and Breanna, now the Queen Mother) was the
true power of the realm for years, thank Clangedin. She's a smart girl,
daughter of her father that one."
"Thurstone, on the other hand, is
like his grandfather Thurstone. That was a man, I tell you, smart and
firm in his course, and courageous too despite his scholarly appearance.
I hadn't met a lot of men that impressed me before that; you and Morganstern
and Kark, even Garth . . . but that man, he made me glad to have you folks as
allies."
Tarl nodded and walk slowly
alongside Dargoth. Tarl worried at
times, as age was finally affecting Dargoth
noticeably. He wasn't done by any means, and he had strong children to
help him. His oldest Astrid is married to Galdric, RealmLord of
Ardencor. His eldest son Boric is a chip off the old block, a
warrior-cleric of Clangedin. His second daughter is Ingrid, married to
Delgren, RealmLord of Galdor's Gate. Tarl's brow furrowed a bit as he
thought of Freida, Dargoth's youngest daughter, missing
these last twenty years or more . . . And his youngest son, Gunnolf, is a
powerful monk and teacher to Tarl's own granddaughter Jana.
As they neared the top of
the stairs, Dargoth stops and looks out over the
courtyard, and then he looks up at Tarl. "I'm glad Thurstone picked
you to run this mission. If he hadn't suggested it, I'd planned on
forcing the issue myself." Dargoth smiled, and
continued, "I know, I know, you are tired. You are tired and hoping to spend more time with your wife.
But this, this is something that needs your attention". Dargoth paused and then continued. "I hate this kind
of thing, some hidden threat, slinking around in the dark somewhere, undefined
and skulking. I was never good at that kind of thing, you know
that. Put a foe out there and let me fight him, that's my way. You,
on the other hand, you've always had a knack for ferreting these types
of threats out. That is why I was always glad to have you around, even in
the days we were with Owayn and Gwen, before we became friends; stealth and
intrigue, that is something you understand. I'd see a mess of shadows and
mist, and then you'd walk out of those shadows, sword bloodied and the foe
revealed, the task clear. Aye, those were the days . . ."
Tarl nodded. “Aye, those were
the days. Fighting alongside Owayn and Gwen, no
responsibilities and nothing could stand in our way. The world was ours, or that’s what we thought. And then, we did make the world ours.”
“You and I and Thurstone,” Dargoth added, “and all the others. So many have passed on and so few remain
from those days seventy, eighty years ago.
But our children remain, and their children. That granddaughter of yours, Isabel, she’s another smart
one. This was her second official
meeting as leader of Abelarde and she showed no fear or hesitation. She spoke her piece and she stood her
ground.”
“It wasn’t her choice,” Tarl said, nodding, “but with her brothers
Carson and Johnathen missing all of these years, with Victor . . . well . . .
She took to the task and has proven her worth, no doubt of that, my old
friend.” Tarl paused and nodded again.
“Aye, I only hope that the dwarves do not botch the works up when I pass
on,” Dargoth added quietly, staring off across the courtyard, his brow furled.
“Hmmm,” Tarl murmered, and then continued, “I had forgotten. The dwarf kings do not follow a hereditary
line. They will elect a new king.”
“Yes, they will. And they may
select my offspring in the course of it . . . “ Dargoth grumbles as he glances
at Tarl. “I do not believe they will,
though. Boric is a fine lad, a true and
strong cleric and war leader. He does not
have the finer skills, the oratory skills needed to convince the gathered clan
leaders. Nor does he have a great list
of feats to draw upon to convince the doubters. I had the advantage of being a war leader in a time of great
struggle. We fought Leodonis and
protected Sithagor and Galdor’s Gate from invasion. I was one of the first to stride the halls of DwarvenMount when
we retook the place.” Dargoth paused
and glanced at Tarl and added, “After you had taken a look first, of
course. It is always good to have a
scout look and find the enemy’s numbers, give us an idea of their defenses.”
Tarl smirked and smiled.
“Gunnolf is a fine lad as well, but they’ll never choose a monk,
especially one who does not follow a dwarven deity.”
“What about Astrid and Ingrid,” Tarl asked, knowing the answer before
hearing it.
“Aw, the dwarves haven’t elected female as leader for hundreds of years,
not since Maribel Strong-blade. Both of
my daughters are married to leaders of enclaves as well, and that complicates
things. No, couldn’t happen.” Dargoth stared off into the sky as if he was
looking at the stars despite the fact his vision was limited to about one
hundred paces, as was the vision of most of his folk. “Freida, now, that girl . . . fiery and strong, that one is. She could put those old traditionalists in
their place.” Dargoth sighed at the
memory of his missing daughter, gone off adventuring and missing two or three
years now. That was something else that
connected Dargoth and Tarl these days . . . .
Dargoth suddenly looked over at Tarl and smiled. "I'd appreciate it if you'd
let me give you a hand with a few things," Dargoth said suddenly to
Tarl's surprise and delight. "Sitting around is getting old, my friend,
and I wouldn't mind getting involved in one last quest. I've been to
Nesloryan, although that was seventy plus years ago, and I once had
friends in the Order of Light. They are a small organization, as I remember, but they can be useful allies. Also, I was
thinking we need to send a couple of folks over there as, what do you
call it, liaisons. A diplomatic pair to be our contacts with the Order
and maybe with a few of the more helpful realms there."
"A good idea," Tarl replied nodding. "Let's save that for tomorrow, though . . . If I'm going to be putting you to work, we should get a good meal in you and let you have a good night sleep. Thundarus knows I need both myself."
"Hmmm," Dargoth murmured, taking in a deep breath . . . "I smell
roasted boar," Dargoth cried out suddenly, laughing
loudly. "I tell ya, Tarl, the Queen Mother had a hand in that,"
Dargoth said as he thumped down the stairs towards the
main hall. "I love roasted boar, and Lily knows it!"
Tarl smiled broadly and
watched Dargoth head down stairs at a sprightly pace, and then he shook his
head and followed.
© 2017 Thomas D Taylor All Rights Reserved
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