Well, @Skatan my dude has Intelligence 9 (0); Wisdom 13 (+1); Charisma 9 (-1). Sometimes I think the things he says are already way too complex, as for his personality. It has to be even more clunky probably.
Kagnan starts suddenly as Lagrord grabs his wrist, his face shocked. Harsfath tumbles to the ground as Nareth pushes him away.
Despite the rude interruption of their sacred ceremony, they both listen, uncharacteristic of barbarians in general, as Colden gives his speech.
When he is done, Harsfath stands up. "Blasphemey!" he says, pointing his finger at you. "The Sun Spirit demands the blood of the crippled and the disobedient as hungrily as any other spirit. It... it is my last honor..." he adds quietly.
The crowd grumbles in agreement.
Kagnan looks at Colden keenly. "I suppose this may be one of many reasons why our peoples have not united before," he says. "Sacrifice to the spirits is our most sacred rite. We are strengthened by thinning out the weak among us, and those receive glory and power in the land of our fathers. The disobedient are doomed to eternal torture by the spirits. Hence the spirits demand their blood, for they hunger for the wicked."
Harsfath walks over to his nephew. "I shall not be denied this honor to serve my people by the ignorant!" he cries. "Remember, my friends, I lost my eye protecting you from these... these heathens... many months ago! Are we not humbled enough that we now seek their alliance? Now they condemn our ways in their disrespect at their greatest moment of need!"
Kagnan, young and strong as a leader, places a restraining hand on Harsfath's shoulder. "Peace, uncle," he says. Harsfath instantly quiets and bows his head.
"Perhaps our alliance was indeed rash, as Chieftain Aros warned," says Kagnan. "We blindly ushered ourselves into the arms of our enemies without truly understanding their ways."
He pulls himself up and faces the crowd. "Therefore, I decree, as your Delegate, this:
"That, though time be short, we learn what we can of their ways and see if we can come to an agreement! If not, so be it!"
The crowd looks on with uncertainty and surprise. It is obvious they had expected either a fight or a dismissal. But Kagnan, unperturbed, sits down in front of you with his legs crossed and his ceremonial axe on his lap, reminiscent of Chieftain Aros when you first came upon him in council.
"It is customary for disagreements of brethren to be settled in this fashion," he says politely, indicating that you sit cross-legged in front of him. "Now, pray tell, why do you condemn our sacrifice? Why do you believe the Sun Spirit forbids it? We do not serve him and we do not serve you... so I fail to see how this has any relevance, in any case, to our presently proposed alliance. None of you would have any problem killing my uncle in battle, so I also fail to see how his death has any relevance to you.
"Please, speak." He holds out his hand to you, any of you, in invitation.
You are surprised by his eloquence, again. It seems the barbarians are not quite as stupid as you were led to believe. You are also surprised by his leadership. He is clearly not out of adolescence, yet his people are listening to him, albeit somewhat reluctantly.
And finally, his politeness and demeanor is unprecedented and in sharp contrast to Chieftain Aros. You had just interrupted his most sacred of ceremonies, according to his own description, and yet he is calm and unfazed. He speaks of your blasphemy without anger or provocation.
Yet he doesn't seem curious in your beliefs as much as he is inviting you to a debate. He clearly wishes to prove you wrong, but quickly, so that you can all be on your way, whatever the outcome.
Sorry @ashafetov but I just laugh at the prospect of pushing poor Nareth up front for this debate and see how it plays out! It's just too much fun to pass up on, hehehe
Colden is a bit surprised, but not at the cheiftan's behavior but rather the barbarians unexpected disregard of the Refiner's words and wishes. After all, they had come here against their brethrens' wishes after the whole "God" incident in the wasted craphole they call their Sanctuary. He thinks for a while and even though his mind is razor sharp and unequal among his peers, at least if you ask Colden himself, that perhaps it's better to address them with less eloquent speech. Someone more like them, someone less... refined. Yes.. I should let Nareth take lead in this, his grubby ways and stumbling words might be just what's needed to pierce through their thick skulls and make them see reason.
"Nareth is the Avatar, he will do the talking for us as the Sun God themselves speak through him!"
Colden then, not so gently, elbow Nareth in the side to push him into taking the seat next to the Chieftan and takes a position behind his right shoulder.
Touched by the Kagnan's action, Nareth blindly sank to the ground and crosses his legs, sitting down in front of the young chieftain.
" Because, chieftain, we need any soldier in our struggle. Because our numbers are too small. We need women in our rows, children capable to wield weapons, oldmen capable to fight.. or at least to grant us several seconds to strike back. They can make this offering in the name of Dizrym on the battlefield, so do we in the name of Sun God! ", Nareth called the refiner with an unusual name as he still did not believed himself in what was happening " Your Uncle is a skilled warrior, may I ask him for an offering? Ya can have your sacrifice, for the glory of Dizrym afterwards! After we are victorious, so we all can commit our rituals the way we want it. Something that is hard to make when ya are dead, slained by orcs, don't ya? "
Nareth speaks louder, desperately seeking the support from Colden's side:
" I ask you, children of wildlands. Who among you want to die here today from the hand of your comrades? You can do so, but I beg the ones who still want to have battle against the Horde to move forth and meet our destiny on the battlefield! Ya have heard my words before so I repeat them now! Have you come to slain yaselves here or slain orcs?.. Answer us now! Aros already gave his respond before.
Ya wants this oldman killed here? We want him fight among your best warriors on the battlefield. I question ya for the last time, Folks of Wildlands! "
Sorry @ashafetov but I just laugh at the prospect of pushing poor Nareth up front for this debate and see how it plays out! It's just too much fun to pass up on, hehehe
Kagnan patiently waits for Nareth to finish, his hands at his side. When his argument is done, he calmly places his palm back on the shaft of his ceremonial axe.
"Your words are well-spoken," he says respectfully. A bit of that hero-awe that you saw last time you met him is reflected again in his eyes and he can't help but be visibly moved.
"But Harsfath is crippled. See that his eye is gone? His greatest use is to us is as a sacrifice. Such will give us strength on the eve of battle. He would be a liability within the battle. How can I trust him to watch my side when he is blinded to one side?
"And does he wish to die before battle? You heard him with your own ears that there is no greater honor for him than his last honor, the last gift he can give us." Harsfath nods.
"As you well know, winter is approaching. The spirits demand that the weak be culled or the spirits will rain down their wrath upon us. Though I hear you that that is not this day, it is soon upon us. We must make every use of our available sacrifices to the spirits before that time or incur their wrath.
"And I still fail to see how the death of a crippled once-enemy is relevant to you or the Sun Spirit."
He lifts his hand from the axe shaft and indicates that it is now your turn to speak. The crowd grumbles in indecision. On one hand, they can hardly be expected to give up their long-held tradition. On the other, you can see that some of them may be worried they themselves may recover from a horrible sickness or injury only to meet death early at the hand of their leaders. I'm fine with it as long as it is not me who is being sacrificed.
You wonder: Perhaps this tradition started as a means of surviving the incredibly harsh winters? An injured or sick person would take up more scarce resources than a hale one while contributing virtually nothing.
You have learned that many of the raider traditions are based on falsehoods, from Coras Ugar Facrin to Warne Harsard-Wast. Perhaps some clever leader of the past devised this sacrificial lie to help the tribe, before they were even a tribe, make impossible decisions in allocating scarce resources. This conversation has given you unprecedented insight into the lives of the tribes since the Darkening.
Not that this information will help you convince them. Garta has seen with her own eyes the falseness and she still struggles to change her long-held beliefs. You realize that your hard-work and ingenuity in Astorwind has helped you to avoid these kind of scenarios.
You imagine, as though a vision, a leader faced with the overwhelming task of feeding hundreds of people, many of whom are sick and dying. How long have our fathers wandered? How long has this Darkness been upon my lineage? My people... they will starve. I cannot feed them all...
Then, somehow, a lie is concocted. Where that lie comes from or how it manifests will forever remain buried. But the leader, whoever he was, found in that lie the method of keeping his people alive through the harshness of the Darkening fallout. Perhaps he found a trusted but wounded friend to help him perpetrate the lie.
Tell them, brother, the spirits will reward you in the land of our fathers! Tell them, brother, you are making a noble sacrifice for your children! Please, brother... die now by my hand and I swear to care for them, your loved ones... you know we cannot feed you... we can barely feed ourselves... you know it is the right choice... die now or we all die later... die in honor and spare us deaths in obscurity... maybe we still will die... maybe not... I don't know what to do brother...
The response echoes deafeningly in the chambers of your vision...
I'd just like to say you guys are doing great role-playing this. Keep it up and stay true to your character's alignment and personality. You can win this scenario.
Those of you who have been relatively silent: feel free to speak up more! Kagnan's invitation was to all of you. Make an argument, make your case, he will listen to any of you.
DM Insight To All the Group:
You do not think it is wise to completely try to dispel their beliefs as false. You sincerely doubt that they will believe you at this time. Garta has seen with her own eyes reasons to disbelieve. You see her facing inner turmoil and confusion at the debate.
The "vision" or "imagination" was meant to convey understanding to your characters, not a tool of dispelling their beliefs.
That time has not come... yet... or perhaps it will never come? Muahahahahah!!!
Nareth opens his eyes. The vision was real and he experienced it himself. The load of understanding threatened to crush his whole essence. Now he understood these people, these wild tribes with wild, bloodthirsty but sometimes the only right hard decisions. It was however so unfamiliar for him, raised upon the strict Refiner's Worship. The wild tribes were no barbarians for him anymore, but also he would not call them his friends.
" I have heard ya, Kagnan. ", the captain finally looked into the chieftain's eyes " I have all the respect to your worship and rituals, we are here not to judge or turn your people into Sun God's worship. And yet, ya are free to do what ya must. I have one last request though... "
Nareth throws a quick glance over the crippled old man.
" We have our own rituals of sacrifice and Refiner prohibits us to spill our blood ourselves. Grant us his life as a gift. So the agreement will be made and payed out completely in the eyes of our God, the Refiner's almighty. I don't dare to force the old man worship our gods, but his life will serve well in both aspects of our alliance. His very life can build a bridge between our people. ", the captain pointed on Harsfath and crossed his arms over his chest. Stupid habit of self-protection. The captain felt uneasy when he had to talk too much, but he felt proficient in different religious topics. Especially when it comes to Sun God's worshiping.
Nareth looks at Colden, gives a slight nod in direction of FG-11 and winks. He continues:
" ... And ya shall get you sacrifice to Dizrym in exchange, o Kagan, if it won't contradict the Refiner's Will! You sacrifice the soul you value much. And we, from our side, agree to conditions we normally don't accept."
" Fair deal. ", he shrugs.
" Hells! What am I doing?! But maybe.. maybe this thing can help us in some way? ", thought Nareth desperately. He was not sure in FG-11 durability capabilities though.
Um.. maybe I'm a bit thick, but did Nareth just trade the barbarian's life for FG11's?
Colden has the sharpest mind, the biggest brains and an unwavering self-perception of his brilliance, but in matters of "faith" he always feel uneasy. These people.. going about their lives ignoring rational belief and believing in those untangible forces, how can one reason with them? He never shows this to anyone, but he he has no love for any God, nor does he believe in them. This of course, no matter his wit and charm, makes it hard to negotiate and debate with people of faith. It's like debating facts of life with infants, ergo impossible. No, he takes a step back here and let these religious debates play out.
But then he realizes, he thinks Nareth just offered FG-11's "life" in exchange for a beat up old barbarian. Colden cares primarily for the greater good and sometimes that means sacrificing something short term, but this? He is perplexed and unsure what to do about this. At first he felt some kind of mentorship feelings for Eff'gee, but when the panicking machine stopped listening to reason and showed its flaws, he lost interest. Perhaps this is the time for a short term sacrifice for a long term good. Yes.. probably quite so.
Cole can see Nareth seeking approval so he puts his hand on his shoulder. Not often he can do that, but standing next to him while the captain is sitting down lets him do just that. He figures that's enough for now.
Yeah, I have no idea how to RP this.. trying to convey some kind of RP choices here, but to be frank I have no idea what a NG char would choose in this scenario. All options seem to go against being Good, so I'm taking the middle road.
Um.. maybe I'm a bit thick, but did Nareth just trade the barbarian's life for FG11's?
Well, not really.. Or should I say, ideally - not. Nareth is indeed a douchebag, but not to that degree. I am trying not to cheat and to express my character's thoughts if it would be a real life situation, like, giving clunky and stupid hints. Will see how it goes
*Lagrord learned early on not to inject himself into imprtant discussions among his "masters", but he can't let a life be wasted, and, uh, he's not quite sure what Nareth is suggesting, but it feels...off to him.*
"Master Kagnan, *Lagrord dips into a respectful bow* I do not wish to offend, I do not know or understand what life for your people is like, I can only speak to my own experience and beliefs. But I've always felt that life was something to be fought for and protected, not given up willingly. Its true that master Harsfath is cannot fight, but you said he has been a valued advisor, has he not? Wouldn't his life and continued advice be a greater boon to your tribe than his absense?"
*Lagrord meets Kagnan's gaze with his own*
"I cannot, nor would I, command you. I simply ask that you consider our words adn weigh them with the knowledge and experience you hold that we simply cannot. I have spent my entire life around those who lead, and I see great worth and potential in your leadership. I trust that you will make the right choice for your people."
*Lagrord again dips into a respectful bow and excuses himself from the meeting*
Whatever he decides, I cannot bear to watch another sacrifice.
Unless specifically invited, Laggy will probably stay silent at most meetings between "important" people. He is more comfortable with this group than any other, but he still, for most practical purposes, a slave.
Kagnan looks in surprise at Nareth’s generous offer. He exchanges a quick glance with Harsfath who is trying to maintain a neutral expression. You can tell, however, that the idea appeals to him more than death. He seems to only want to be of some use to his nephew.
Kagnan listens to Lagrord’s alien values intently.
“While I don’t understand your sentiment, half-man,” he says to Lagrord, “the spirits speak to me of your sincerity. Thank you for your thoughts.” He smiles warmly at Lagrord’s discomfort, meaning to convey no threat.
He looks back to Nareth. “I accept your proposal,” he says simply. Apparently not understanding the obscure reference about trading the cowardly golem, he stands and addresses his people. (You’re not rid of him yet!)
“The spirits have spoken through me and by me, your Delegate!” he shouts. “From this day forth, Harsfath, my last of kin, is sacrificed to the spirits not in body, but in deed! He is now dead to us! As a ward of our once-enemies, the name Harsfath shall be buried, for Harsfath is dead! The man before you is now known as...” he pauses for a moment, his eyes closed, “...Herald!”
The crowd nods solemnly, bowing themselves before you. Harsfath, now Herald, steps quietly and submissively to your side of the meeting, the weight of his new duty as Herald between your peoples resting heavily on his mind.
He kneels before you and asks, “What is your will for Herald?”
You have convinced the barbarians to not sacrifice Harsfath! You gain 1 experience point!
You have also completed the mission of obtaining barbarian allies for the fight at the border! You gain another experience point!
Each of you gain a level, with an additional experience point. If you are keeping track of your level, you may level up as you normally would. If you are not, nothing else is needed at this time. If you are a spellcaster, you may or may not gain spells. If you are a warrior, your skill in combat increase.
Nareth feels relief. Thanks to Refiner, the unavoidable conflict was miraculously avoided. He would not let to kill the innocent, oh no, not on his watch. He tried to prepare the backup plan, to offer Kagnan FG-11 instead of this old man. Poor old golem was highly likely to survive the battle axe's hit, at least captain thought so and would not definitely let Kagnan to hit the golem the second time. Who knows, maybe he would have been able to trick these barbarians and twist this as the Sun God's divine will to save the golem?
What would have happened if Kagnan killed the golem from one single blow, Nareth did not want to imagine. Well, accordingly to his beliefs the life of human being's life is much more sacred then the life... or shall I say, existence or functioning of a golem. From other point of view he might have found out, how actually immortal those thing are.
Nareth slowly raised up and bowed politely:
" We appreciate this wise decision and welcome ya, o Kagnan... Herald and your folk, as friends and allies in this struggle. We also appreciate this sacrifice as a gesture of good will. As for ya, my Herald, your life now belongs to me. And the first thing I would love to know, is what YOU would suggest to do with your life? Explain me what good your life brings to us and our allies in this war? "
"We shall drive the orcs from our homeland and reclaim what once was ours!" cries Kagnan, shoving his ceremonial axe into the air. "With our new allies in this conflict, we shall be unstoppable!" He lets out a cheer and so does his people.
Herald looks surprised and pleased at Nareth's interest in his opinion. "I suggest, my lord, that I serve as a liason, as you suggested, in this new alliance," he says. "I will do my best to breach the differences between our two peoples, but you must teach me your ways as well. I wish to know more about this Refiner that has impressed upon you to spare my life, even at the risk of potential allies. It is strange to me."
Jirt approaches Nareth. "Good job, captain," he says. "Never knew you had it in you."
Garta approaches in business like fashion. "It is good that we have gained allies," she says. "But we still must come to a decision on how to reach the king. We don't know how many orcs are guarding the pass. I doubt we can bring this many people, women and children, over the mountaintop. May I suggest that we send scouts to..."
Kagnan approaches, entirely ignoring Garta and stepping in front of her rudely. She limps back with her broken leg submissively, her face red in anger and shame at being so flippantly spoken over. It is clear that Kagnan heard her from his recommendation:
"I suggest we storm the pass," he says. "There is no way my people will climb the mountain in time to help your people. We have children and... women... among us. Despite the many dead scouting and raiding parties the orcs have slain, Chieftain Aros did brief us on the status of the pass. There are only a few orcs guarding the pass, though I'm sure they are well fortified. With the spirits to guide us, I do not doubt that we can crush them and make haste to the border of your lands. If we march hard, we should reach them in time for a raid at dawn tomorrow."
Herald nods in agreement.
Is this the course you wish to take? Or do your characters wish to try something else?
All told, there are about 150 people led by Kagnan, and 60 strong in warriors able to fight. Such a number will be very helpful in adding to the military might gathered by the king.
You march through the remainder of the day hard. Despite Kagnan's disdain, the children and women keep up very well. The barbarians fashion a stretcher for Garta so she doesn't have to limp along, and two strong men carry her. She insists on staying near Lagrord, however.
You march hard through the day. You do encounter a few orc scouting parties who melt back into the wilderness as you approach. "They will know we're coming," says Kagnan. "But there's not much they can do about it. Their army is deep within your lands."
The barbarians are particularly intrigued by FG-11, calling him a "manifestation of spirit." FG-11 seems to enjoy the attention given to him especially by the children. They jump on him and climb all over him as the day progresses. When you set camp for the night, barely a mile from the pass, he disappears into the midst of the barbarian encampment, taking up one barbarian woman on her offer of "cooking lessons."
"I'll be glad if that cowardly machine never returns," spits Jirt as you sit around the campfire, mostly estranged from the rest of the barbarians. Herald has taken on the impromptu role of servant and is cooking today's catch, a small rabbit, into a stew. Jirt and Kefto are happy to hand over their share of the menial chores to him.
"The manifestation of spirit enjoys the children," says Herald. "I never thought I would live to see the day. I lived to meet an actual spirit in the flesh!" A tear eeks out of his good eye at the thought.
"Yeah, well your spirit's a damn coward, old man," says Jirt.
Herald says nothing. Jirt, apparently antsy before the battle, sighs in frustration at his bait not being taken. Instead, he tries a new target to vent his anxiety on. "Tell me, princess, why is it that these muddies don't fall to their knees and worship you?" he says to Garta. "I thought you said you were the daughter of a chieftain or some such nonsense."
"My father," she begins slowly as though explaining things to a child, "is your commander. Remember? General Gressick?"
Jirt gulps. "Right," he says.
Garta leans back on the stretcher.
Then Kagnan approaches, FG-11 following behind him like an eager puppy.
"The manifestation of spirit required of me to bring him to your camp," says Kagnan respectfully. "My scouts report that the orcs are well aware of our presence. They have dug mounds in the pass and are making last minute fortifications before our imminent attack tomorrow. They report about 30 orcs guarding the pass. It will be a bloody battle, my allies. We outnumber them over 2 to 1, but they will fight with fury. I recommend that we storm them as dawn breaks. Orcs fight better in the dark..."
Almost in response, you hear a cry of alarm ring from the other side of the camp.
"Orcs!" screams one woman, coming out of the shadows for Kagnan.
"Come, my allies, we must fend them off!" he shouts, rushing into the darkness. As you follow him, he spits. "I should have foreseen that they would try a raid in the darkness to weaken us. I put up sentries, but I did not expect them to attack with enough strength to bypass them."
As you approach, you see children being carried by women running for their lives. It is total chaos, and you're having a hard time figuring out which way to go. Many fires seem to have either gotten out of control or been set intentionally by the orcs. The shadows from the fires cast long confusing shapes across the camp, and it's difficult to tell the difference between shadows and people before they're right on you.
It seems they have surrounded the camp and taken advantage of their night-vision to raid you now.
"Is this just a raid or a full on attack?" yells Kefto.
"I do not know!" says Kagnan. "There were only 30 of them in the pass, so said my scouts. They wouldn't dare to attack such a greater number. Their advantage is with their fortifications... unless..."
"Unless what?" yells Jirt. "Spit it out man, and stop being so damn dramatic, we don't have time for this!"
Suddenly, three orcs jump out in front of you. They are all wearing the same skull masks you saw earlier in the day. One of them is bearing a torch which he uses to set ablaze the tent next to you. It seems they were unaware of your presence, but they turn to face your rush as you bowel into them.
None of you have time to react, however, as Kagnan and Herald take quick advantage of their surprise. Kagnan sinks his ceremonial axe into the shoulder of the torch bearer. Herald smashes the other with his crudely fashioned longsword, dropping him to the ground. The other squeals and flees into the flickering shadow light and you instantly lose track of him.
"Quickly, we must rally the men to me and organize!" shouts Kagnan. "I fear the orcs may have split their forces at the pass to give us a false sense of security in our superior numbers. We must control the situation or we risk being overrun."
"TO ME!" he screams. Men gather around him, seeking their leader.
With help from a few of the barbarians who join you, you manage to figure out where the main fighting is. "They came upon us from the west," says one panting and bloodied old man. "We didn't stand a chance, there are so many of them."
"Did you get a headcount at all?" snaps Kagnan.
"I couldn't tell," says the old man. "At least 40, maybe more."
"Come, then, friend, and let us destroy them or die with honor," says Kagnan.
You make your way there quickly through the lowland scrub and streams, gathering men as you go. Women and children, some of whom are injured, add to your numbers and you move to the lines where the battle is being fought. Tents burn and men and orcs alike scream in death, fear, and anger. It is surreal to you, the flickering fires in the darkness amidst a barely seen battle. You feel as though you are walking through a dream. But then you get to the line and the dream turns suddenly real.
"My Delegate Kagnan!" shouts one man. "Praise the spirits you're alive!" The cry is repeated among the fighting barbarians who gain morale with the knowledge that their beloved young leader has arrived. This gives the orcs pause and you all regroup.
Kagnan steps forward to the front of the line as the orcs fall back a bit. You can't tell how many orcs there are beyond the shadows and flickering of the campfire. There is an eerie pause as the two forces regroup and stare at each other. Orcs rushing back and forth behind their line, now deep in the camp's borders, among burning tents and scattered brushes, prevents you from accurately determining their numbers. Their front line stares at Kagnan's confident stride into the bloodied and temporarily calmed battle zone, skull-masks darkened and bloodied and leering.
If the orcs' purpose was to disrupt the camp before a raid in the morning, it would seem that they have accomplished that purpose. That they aren't melting back into the darkness now suggests that they have confidence they can win now.
Then a bloodcurling, strange, monstrous scream echoes through the lowlands. It sends chills up your spines like the scraping of metal on a blackboard. It sounds so close to you, and many of you look up to see if it is coming from the sky.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA--"
Has your doom come upon you? you wonder. That sound could only be made by a massive or powerful creature.
You notice, however, that the orcs seem as surprised by it as you are. They are looking around wildly for the source of the noise and are covering their ears in apparent pain.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA--"
Then out of your ranks charges FG-11, pushing barbarians to the side. Red light is emanating from his face, which is screwed up into it's programmed sad position. His mouth is open wide in the effigy of a scream of pain and loss.
He kneels to the ground, still screaming, over the bodies of a small child and a woman. They are both unnecessarily mutilated by teeth marks, as though the orc that killed them was hungry, though their faces are untouched. You recognize the woman as the one who offered to teach FG-11 to cook. The child was obviously one who was playing on FG-11's shoulders and swinging from his arms.
The orcs and the barbarians alike look on as FG-11, still making that horrified, one-tone screech, kneels down and tenderly touches the woman's and child's face.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"
The screeching stops suddenly, casting a strange silence on the crowd. FG-11 stands ominously, his face still glowing red.
"INITIATING VITAL PROTOCOL E-5-5-9," booms a loud robotic voice out of his now blank, passive face. "OVERRIDE SAFETY PROGRAM... INITIATED... OVERRIDE EMERGENCY STOPGAP, 1-0-0... INITIATED... OVERRIDE PATENTED LELENICON'S GOLEMS INCORPORATED LAST DITCH SAFETY ENCHANTMENT OR IT'S FREE GUARANTEE... INITIATED... AUTHORIZING THE USE OF FORCE..."
You all watch cautiously as FG-11 slowly turns to square off against the orcs. None of you are sure what to do. A few of the orcs shout out in challenge, but none of them dare to react.
You had no idea something could move that fast. One second he was standing in the battle-zone over the dead bodies many strides away from the orc line--
--the next, an orc dies, crushed to pulp by his massive, steel fist. The orc didn't even have time to scream. His body is mashed into a dent in the ground where FG-11 stands over the mess.
You all stare in disbelief for a split second, unsure if what you witnessed was real.
"Charge!" screams Kagnan, taking advantage of the orcs surprise. Instantly, the orcs retaliate and total pandemonium ensues.
Comments
hahahha, I love it!
Despite the rude interruption of their sacred ceremony, they both listen, uncharacteristic of barbarians in general, as Colden gives his speech.
When he is done, Harsfath stands up. "Blasphemey!" he says, pointing his finger at you. "The Sun Spirit demands the blood of the crippled and the disobedient as hungrily as any other spirit. It... it is my last honor..." he adds quietly.
The crowd grumbles in agreement.
Kagnan looks at Colden keenly. "I suppose this may be one of many reasons why our peoples have not united before," he says. "Sacrifice to the spirits is our most sacred rite. We are strengthened by thinning out the weak among us, and those receive glory and power in the land of our fathers. The disobedient are doomed to eternal torture by the spirits. Hence the spirits demand their blood, for they hunger for the wicked."
Harsfath walks over to his nephew. "I shall not be denied this honor to serve my people by the ignorant!" he cries. "Remember, my friends, I lost my eye protecting you from these... these heathens... many months ago! Are we not humbled enough that we now seek their alliance? Now they condemn our ways in their disrespect at their greatest moment of need!"
Kagnan, young and strong as a leader, places a restraining hand on Harsfath's shoulder. "Peace, uncle," he says. Harsfath instantly quiets and bows his head.
He pulls himself up and faces the crowd. "Therefore, I decree, as your Delegate, this:
"That, though time be short, we learn what we can of their ways and see if we can come to an agreement! If not, so be it!"
The crowd looks on with uncertainty and surprise. It is obvious they had expected either a fight or a dismissal. But Kagnan, unperturbed, sits down in front of you with his legs crossed and his ceremonial axe on his lap, reminiscent of Chieftain Aros when you first came upon him in council.
"It is customary for disagreements of brethren to be settled in this fashion," he says politely, indicating that you sit cross-legged in front of him. "Now, pray tell, why do you condemn our sacrifice? Why do you believe the Sun Spirit forbids it? We do not serve him and we do not serve you... so I fail to see how this has any relevance, in any case, to our presently proposed alliance. None of you would have any problem killing my uncle in battle, so I also fail to see how his death has any relevance to you.
"Please, speak." He holds out his hand to you, any of you, in invitation.
You are surprised by his eloquence, again. It seems the barbarians are not quite as stupid as you were led to believe. You are also surprised by his leadership. He is clearly not out of adolescence, yet his people are listening to him, albeit somewhat reluctantly.
And finally, his politeness and demeanor is unprecedented and in sharp contrast to Chieftain Aros. You had just interrupted his most sacred of ceremonies, according to his own description, and yet he is calm and unfazed. He speaks of your blasphemy without anger or provocation.
Yet he doesn't seem curious in your beliefs as much as he is inviting you to a debate. He clearly wishes to prove you wrong, but quickly, so that you can all be on your way, whatever the outcome.
Colden is a bit surprised, but not at the cheiftan's behavior but rather the barbarians unexpected disregard of the Refiner's words and wishes. After all, they had come here against their brethrens' wishes after the whole "God" incident in the wasted craphole they call their Sanctuary. He thinks for a while and even though his mind is razor sharp and unequal among his peers, at least if you ask Colden himself, that perhaps it's better to address them with less eloquent speech. Someone more like them, someone less... refined. Yes.. I should let Nareth take lead in this, his grubby ways and stumbling words might be just what's needed to pierce through their thick skulls and make them see reason.
"Nareth is the Avatar, he will do the talking for us as the Sun God themselves speak through him!"
Colden then, not so gently, elbow Nareth in the side to push him into taking the seat next to the Chieftan and takes a position behind his right shoulder.
" Because, chieftain, we need any soldier in our struggle. Because our numbers are too small. We need women in our rows, children capable to wield weapons, oldmen capable to fight.. or at least to grant us several seconds to strike back. They can make this offering in the name of Dizrym on the battlefield, so do we in the name of Sun God! ", Nareth called the refiner with an unusual name as he still did not believed himself in what was happening " Your Uncle is a skilled warrior, may I ask him for an offering? Ya can have your sacrifice, for the glory of Dizrym afterwards! After we are victorious, so we all can commit our rituals the way we want it. Something that is hard to make when ya are dead, slained by orcs, don't ya? "
Nareth speaks louder, desperately seeking the support from Colden's side:
" I ask you, children of wildlands. Who among you want to die here today from the hand of your comrades? You can do so, but I beg the ones who still want to have battle against the Horde to move forth and meet our destiny on the battlefield! Ya have heard my words before so I repeat them now! Have you come to slain yaselves here or slain orcs?.. Answer us now! Aros already gave his respond before.
Ya wants this oldman killed here? We want him fight among your best warriors on the battlefield. I question ya for the last time, Folks of Wildlands! "
Sure! I was just about to do what I did myself.
"Your words are well-spoken," he says respectfully. A bit of that hero-awe that you saw last time you met him is reflected again in his eyes and he can't help but be visibly moved.
"But Harsfath is crippled. See that his eye is gone? His greatest use is to us is as a sacrifice. Such will give us strength on the eve of battle. He would be a liability within the battle. How can I trust him to watch my side when he is blinded to one side?
"And does he wish to die before battle? You heard him with your own ears that there is no greater honor for him than his last honor, the last gift he can give us." Harsfath nods.
"As you well know, winter is approaching. The spirits demand that the weak be culled or the spirits will rain down their wrath upon us. Though I hear you that that is not this day, it is soon upon us. We must make every use of our available sacrifices to the spirits before that time or incur their wrath.
"And I still fail to see how the death of a crippled once-enemy is relevant to you or the Sun Spirit."
You wonder: Perhaps this tradition started as a means of surviving the incredibly harsh winters? An injured or sick person would take up more scarce resources than a hale one while contributing virtually nothing.
You have learned that many of the raider traditions are based on falsehoods, from Coras Ugar Facrin to Warne Harsard-Wast. Perhaps some clever leader of the past devised this sacrificial lie to help the tribe, before they were even a tribe, make impossible decisions in allocating scarce resources. This conversation has given you unprecedented insight into the lives of the tribes since the Darkening.
Not that this information will help you convince them. Garta has seen with her own eyes the falseness and she still struggles to change her long-held beliefs. You realize that your hard-work and ingenuity in Astorwind has helped you to avoid these kind of scenarios.
Then, somehow, a lie is concocted. Where that lie comes from or how it manifests will forever remain buried. But the leader, whoever he was, found in that lie the method of keeping his people alive through the harshness of the Darkening fallout. Perhaps he found a trusted but wounded friend to help him perpetrate the lie.
Tell them, brother, the spirits will reward you in the land of our fathers! Tell them, brother, you are making a noble sacrifice for your children! Please, brother... die now by my hand and I swear to care for them, your loved ones... you know we cannot feed you... we can barely feed ourselves... you know it is the right choice... die now or we all die later... die in honor and spare us deaths in obscurity... maybe we still will die... maybe not... I don't know what to do brother...
The response echoes deafeningly in the chambers of your vision...
I will brother... I will help you...
FOR THE GREATER GOOD.
Those of you who have been relatively silent: feel free to speak up more! Kagnan's invitation was to all of you. Make an argument, make your case, he will listen to any of you.
You do not think it is wise to completely try to dispel their beliefs as false. You sincerely doubt that they will believe you at this time. Garta has seen with her own eyes reasons to disbelieve. You see her facing inner turmoil and confusion at the debate.
That time has not come... yet... or perhaps it will never come? Muahahahahah!!!
" I have heard ya, Kagnan. ", the captain finally looked into the chieftain's eyes " I have all the respect to your worship and rituals, we are here not to judge or turn your people into Sun God's worship. And yet, ya are free to do what ya must. I have one last request though... "
Nareth throws a quick glance over the crippled old man.
" We have our own rituals of sacrifice and Refiner prohibits us to spill our blood ourselves. Grant us his life as a gift. So the agreement will be made and payed out completely in the eyes of our God, the Refiner's almighty. I don't dare to force the old man worship our gods, but his life will serve well in both aspects of our alliance. His very life can build a bridge between our people. ", the captain pointed on Harsfath and crossed his arms over his chest. Stupid habit of self-protection. The captain felt uneasy when he had to talk too much, but he felt proficient in different religious topics. Especially when it comes to Sun God's worshiping.
" ... And ya shall get you sacrifice to Dizrym in exchange, o Kagan, if it won't contradict the Refiner's Will! You sacrifice the soul you value much. And we, from our side, agree to conditions we normally don't accept."
" Fair deal. ", he shrugs.
But then he realizes, he thinks Nareth just offered FG-11's "life" in exchange for a beat up old barbarian. Colden cares primarily for the greater good and sometimes that means sacrificing something short term, but this? He is perplexed and unsure what to do about this. At first he felt some kind of mentorship feelings for Eff'gee, but when the panicking machine stopped listening to reason and showed its flaws, he lost interest. Perhaps this is the time for a short term sacrifice for a long term good. Yes.. probably quite so.
Cole can see Nareth seeking approval so he puts his hand on his shoulder. Not often he can do that, but standing next to him while the captain is sitting down lets him do just that. He figures that's enough for now.
"Master Kagnan, *Lagrord dips into a respectful bow* I do not wish to offend, I do not know or understand what life for your people is like, I can only speak to my own experience and beliefs. But I've always felt that life was something to be fought for and protected, not given up willingly. Its true that master Harsfath is cannot fight, but you said he has been a valued advisor, has he not? Wouldn't his life and continued advice be a greater boon to your tribe than his absense?"
*Lagrord meets Kagnan's gaze with his own*
"I cannot, nor would I, command you. I simply ask that you consider our words adn weigh them with the knowledge and experience you hold that we simply cannot. I have spent my entire life around those who lead, and I see great worth and potential in your leadership. I trust that you will make the right choice for your people."
*Lagrord again dips into a respectful bow and excuses himself from the meeting*
Whatever he decides, I cannot bear to watch another sacrifice.
Kagnan listens to Lagrord’s alien values intently.
“While I don’t understand your sentiment, half-man,” he says to Lagrord, “the spirits speak to me of your sincerity. Thank you for your thoughts.” He smiles warmly at Lagrord’s discomfort, meaning to convey no threat.
He looks back to Nareth. “I accept your proposal,” he says simply. Apparently not understanding the obscure reference about trading the cowardly golem, he stands and addresses his people. (You’re not rid of him yet!)
“The spirits have spoken through me and by me, your Delegate!” he shouts. “From this day forth, Harsfath, my last of kin, is sacrificed to the spirits not in body, but in deed! He is now dead to us! As a ward of our once-enemies, the name Harsfath shall be buried, for Harsfath is dead! The man before you is now known as...” he pauses for a moment, his eyes closed, “...Herald!”
The crowd nods solemnly, bowing themselves before you. Harsfath, now Herald, steps quietly and submissively to your side of the meeting, the weight of his new duty as Herald between your peoples resting heavily on his mind.
He kneels before you and asks, “What is your will for Herald?”
You have convinced the barbarians to not sacrifice Harsfath! You gain 1 experience point!
You have also completed the mission of obtaining barbarian allies for the fight at the border! You gain another experience point!
Each of you gain a level, with an additional experience point. If you are keeping track of your level, you may level up as you normally would. If you are not, nothing else is needed at this time. If you are a spellcaster, you may or may not gain spells. If you are a warrior, your skill in combat increase.
What would have happened if Kagnan killed the golem from one single blow, Nareth did not want to imagine. Well, accordingly to his beliefs the life of human being's life is much more sacred then the life... or shall I say, existence or functioning of a golem. From other point of view he might have found out, how actually immortal those thing are.
Nareth slowly raised up and bowed politely:
" We appreciate this wise decision and welcome ya, o Kagnan... Herald and your folk, as friends and allies in this struggle. We also appreciate this sacrifice as a gesture of good will. As for ya, my Herald, your life now belongs to me. And the first thing I would love to know, is what YOU would suggest to do with your life? Explain me what good your life brings to us and our allies in this war? "
Herald looks surprised and pleased at Nareth's interest in his opinion. "I suggest, my lord, that I serve as a liason, as you suggested, in this new alliance," he says. "I will do my best to breach the differences between our two peoples, but you must teach me your ways as well. I wish to know more about this Refiner that has impressed upon you to spare my life, even at the risk of potential allies. It is strange to me."
Jirt approaches Nareth. "Good job, captain," he says. "Never knew you had it in you."
Kagnan approaches, entirely ignoring Garta and stepping in front of her rudely. She limps back with her broken leg submissively, her face red in anger and shame at being so flippantly spoken over. It is clear that Kagnan heard her from his recommendation:
"I suggest we storm the pass," he says. "There is no way my people will climb the mountain in time to help your people. We have children and... women... among us. Despite the many dead scouting and raiding parties the orcs have slain, Chieftain Aros did brief us on the status of the pass. There are only a few orcs guarding the pass, though I'm sure they are well fortified. With the spirits to guide us, I do not doubt that we can crush them and make haste to the border of your lands. If we march hard, we should reach them in time for a raid at dawn tomorrow."
Herald nods in agreement.
Is this the course you wish to take? Or do your characters wish to try something else?
You march through the remainder of the day hard. Despite Kagnan's disdain, the children and women keep up very well. The barbarians fashion a stretcher for Garta so she doesn't have to limp along, and two strong men carry her. She insists on staying near Lagrord, however.
You march hard through the day. You do encounter a few orc scouting parties who melt back into the wilderness as you approach. "They will know we're coming," says Kagnan. "But there's not much they can do about it. Their army is deep within your lands."
The barbarians are particularly intrigued by FG-11, calling him a "manifestation of spirit." FG-11 seems to enjoy the attention given to him especially by the children. They jump on him and climb all over him as the day progresses. When you set camp for the night, barely a mile from the pass, he disappears into the midst of the barbarian encampment, taking up one barbarian woman on her offer of "cooking lessons."
"The manifestation of spirit enjoys the children," says Herald. "I never thought I would live to see the day. I lived to meet an actual spirit in the flesh!" A tear eeks out of his good eye at the thought.
"Yeah, well your spirit's a damn coward, old man," says Jirt.
Herald says nothing. Jirt, apparently antsy before the battle, sighs in frustration at his bait not being taken. Instead, he tries a new target to vent his anxiety on. "Tell me, princess, why is it that these muddies don't fall to their knees and worship you?" he says to Garta. "I thought you said you were the daughter of a chieftain or some such nonsense."
"My father," she begins slowly as though explaining things to a child, "is your commander. Remember? General Gressick?"
Jirt gulps. "Right," he says.
Garta leans back on the stretcher.
Then Kagnan approaches, FG-11 following behind him like an eager puppy.
"The manifestation of spirit required of me to bring him to your camp," says Kagnan respectfully. "My scouts report that the orcs are well aware of our presence. They have dug mounds in the pass and are making last minute fortifications before our imminent attack tomorrow. They report about 30 orcs guarding the pass. It will be a bloody battle, my allies. We outnumber them over 2 to 1, but they will fight with fury. I recommend that we storm them as dawn breaks. Orcs fight better in the dark..."
Almost in response, you hear a cry of alarm ring from the other side of the camp.
"Come, my allies, we must fend them off!" he shouts, rushing into the darkness. As you follow him, he spits. "I should have foreseen that they would try a raid in the darkness to weaken us. I put up sentries, but I did not expect them to attack with enough strength to bypass them."
As you approach, you see children being carried by women running for their lives. It is total chaos, and you're having a hard time figuring out which way to go. Many fires seem to have either gotten out of control or been set intentionally by the orcs. The shadows from the fires cast long confusing shapes across the camp, and it's difficult to tell the difference between shadows and people before they're right on you.
It seems they have surrounded the camp and taken advantage of their night-vision to raid you now.
"Is this just a raid or a full on attack?" yells Kefto.
"I do not know!" says Kagnan. "There were only 30 of them in the pass, so said my scouts. They wouldn't dare to attack such a greater number. Their advantage is with their fortifications... unless..."
"Unless what?" yells Jirt. "Spit it out man, and stop being so damn dramatic, we don't have time for this!"
Suddenly, three orcs jump out in front of you. They are all wearing the same skull masks you saw earlier in the day. One of them is bearing a torch which he uses to set ablaze the tent next to you. It seems they were unaware of your presence, but they turn to face your rush as you bowel into them.
"Quickly, we must rally the men to me and organize!" shouts Kagnan. "I fear the orcs may have split their forces at the pass to give us a false sense of security in our superior numbers. We must control the situation or we risk being overrun."
"TO ME!" he screams. Men gather around him, seeking their leader.
With help from a few of the barbarians who join you, you manage to figure out where the main fighting is. "They came upon us from the west," says one panting and bloodied old man. "We didn't stand a chance, there are so many of them."
"Did you get a headcount at all?" snaps Kagnan.
"I couldn't tell," says the old man. "At least 40, maybe more."
"Come, then, friend, and let us destroy them or die with honor," says Kagnan.
"My Delegate Kagnan!" shouts one man. "Praise the spirits you're alive!" The cry is repeated among the fighting barbarians who gain morale with the knowledge that their beloved young leader has arrived. This gives the orcs pause and you all regroup.
Kagnan steps forward to the front of the line as the orcs fall back a bit. You can't tell how many orcs there are beyond the shadows and flickering of the campfire. There is an eerie pause as the two forces regroup and stare at each other. Orcs rushing back and forth behind their line, now deep in the camp's borders, among burning tents and scattered brushes, prevents you from accurately determining their numbers. Their front line stares at Kagnan's confident stride into the bloodied and temporarily calmed battle zone, skull-masks darkened and bloodied and leering.
If the orcs' purpose was to disrupt the camp before a raid in the morning, it would seem that they have accomplished that purpose. That they aren't melting back into the darkness now suggests that they have confidence they can win now.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA--"
Has your doom come upon you? you wonder. That sound could only be made by a massive or powerful creature.
You notice, however, that the orcs seem as surprised by it as you are. They are looking around wildly for the source of the noise and are covering their ears in apparent pain.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA--"
Then out of your ranks charges FG-11, pushing barbarians to the side. Red light is emanating from his face, which is screwed up into it's programmed sad position. His mouth is open wide in the effigy of a scream of pain and loss.
He kneels to the ground, still screaming, over the bodies of a small child and a woman. They are both unnecessarily mutilated by teeth marks, as though the orc that killed them was hungry, though their faces are untouched. You recognize the woman as the one who offered to teach FG-11 to cook. The child was obviously one who was playing on FG-11's shoulders and swinging from his arms.
The orcs and the barbarians alike look on as FG-11, still making that horrified, one-tone screech, kneels down and tenderly touches the woman's and child's face.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"
The screeching stops suddenly, casting a strange silence on the crowd. FG-11 stands ominously, his face still glowing red.
"INITIATING VITAL PROTOCOL E-5-5-9," booms a loud robotic voice out of his now blank, passive face. "OVERRIDE SAFETY PROGRAM... INITIATED... OVERRIDE EMERGENCY STOPGAP, 1-0-0... INITIATED... OVERRIDE PATENTED LELENICON'S GOLEMS INCORPORATED LAST DITCH SAFETY ENCHANTMENT OR IT'S FREE GUARANTEE... INITIATED... AUTHORIZING THE USE OF FORCE..."
You all watch cautiously as FG-11 slowly turns to square off against the orcs. None of you are sure what to do. A few of the orcs shout out in challenge, but none of them dare to react.
"ACQUIRING TARGET... TARGET ACQUIRED... EXECUTE..."
--the next, an orc dies, crushed to pulp by his massive, steel fist. The orc didn't even have time to scream. His body is mashed into a dent in the ground where FG-11 stands over the mess.
You all stare in disbelief for a split second, unsure if what you witnessed was real.
"Charge!" screams Kagnan, taking advantage of the orcs surprise. Instantly, the orcs retaliate and total pandemonium ensues.
What do you do?