“Then I require you to come with me to the town square,” he says. “You must be there for the draft, otherwise it will not seem as official. After that, you can gather your things. I must be on my way with the army as soon as possible.”
“NARETH!!!” he shouts at the top of his lungs. “Get back in here! I told you to STAY in here!!!!!” It’s obvious to any watching that he is shouting simply for the sport of it and nothing Nareth said or did could have prevented the scolding.
Nareth hurriedly enters the hall, closing the door behind him. His manner of holding himself betrays army training and drill.
" I am at your service, My Liege! " - he salutes.
“Nareth, you are to escort Colden here in his mission to the Bloodeye Clan,” says King Corak. “You are to defend him with you life, is that clear? Damn it Nareth, is that CLEAR????!!!!’”
The king is enjoying shouting at his guards today.
Nareth gazes puzzled at King Corak, being cut off from his direct and customary duties in the garrison. He has already managed to forget how it is, to work in the field, outside the cozy and such a safe walls of the Castle Astorwind.
" But... my King!.. " - having doubted for a second, he again pulls himself up and adds: " For me it will be an honor! " - He bows. Nareth still doubted the King’s seriousness, considering his mood lately.
“Very good, Nareth,” says King Corak. “Now, I’ve heard you consider yourself to be somewhat of a religious man. Perhaps you can persuade one of the priests to accompany you and Master Cramnoch to the Bloodeye Clan. Never know when such might be of need.
“Is that something you think you can do, Nareth? Answer me, Nareth!!!”
" My King, I apologize for being rude. I have never discussed orders for all my 12 years of service. But I dare to clarify what will happen to our garrison in my absence, eh? They are like children, without a sergeant they cannot stay for long and I don't want to jeopardize the discipline. "
Nareth still resisted these circumstances that foreshadowed quick and dramatic changes in his life. He got used to the usual routine of the Castle Astowind and his tiny garrison. The surrounding world, frankly, did not interested him much and he still did not believe this is going to happen.
" Priest? What he is talking about for Refiner's sake? " - thought Nareth worriedly.
“Your garrison will be commandeered by general Gressick until you meet us in the Northern Crags,” says king Corak, not yelling for some mysterious reason.
“Now, we shall all make our way to the square and institute the draft. This will come as a surprise, but there’s nothing for it.”
" As you wish, my King! To fulfill your request I have to ask the High Priest in our Order, may the Refiner bless him. He defines the right lad as me don't dare myself. But I ensure ya, there is a plenty of worthy acolytes. " - answers Nareth dutifully with badly hidden confusion all over his face.
Before we begin the next scene, does anyone have any questions about the game? Any questions for me as a DM? I want to make this an enjoyable experience for all the players.
If you’re reading along and you’re interested in joining up, just send me a PM and we can make it happen.
Colden looks with warmth in his eyes at Lagrord and thinks to himself "I wonder what Lagrord is contemplating? He's probably busy going over all the interesting things I taught him yesterday about the insects and plants of Astorwind kingdom! Oh yes, I remember how interested he seemed when we went through all the different kinds of maggots and beetles."
The sun lowers on the grey horizon, casting pallid shadows through the streets and windows of Astorwind. Several long streaks of black stream across the sky like throbbing veins which narrow at their head and gradually widen at their tails. Each of these vein-like black streaks are headed by small black dots. These dots seem to appear with increasing frequency as Winter rears Her face, taking a silent, mysterious journey in the grey void and clouds overhead. But perhaps that frequency is an illusion, as people are in a more disconsolate mood as summer closes.
Legends say these dots are great black crows of Winter who seek to suffocate and spread their hatred across the land. The black dust seems to come from these strange things. Whenever they are in the sky, the black dust rains down like dead flower petals lain at a funeral.
Such it is today. The dust swirls violently through the streets, sparkling and glimmering eerily in the long rays of sunshine, then suddenly seeming to disappear in the cross-shadows. Those standing in the shadows hardly know they are swarmed by dust, while the combined glare from the dust in the sunlight is nearly blinding.
Despite the king’s prediction that the villagers would be surprised by announcement of the draft, they all seem to know what is coming, like pigs ready for the slaughter. They have already been rounded up by Prince Casak in the village square by the time the king and his entourage arrives. Several of the women, mothers, wives, and daughters, weep openly in the arms of their potential connscripts.
Prince Casak sneers down at the sight, his disgust and contempt written plainly on his features. The king detaches from the garrison, several hundred strong, as the soldiery make their way to the walls. The King, wearing a stern expression and his royal battlemail, signals.
The royal herald, a tall, lanky man with a big mouth, raises an old trumpet to his lips and uses it to make a bleating, hollow, sloppy sound.
“By royal decree,” he booms, reading from the declaration penned by Colden, “and to protect the lands and homes of his subjects, and to prevent the destruction of those lands by Winter’s evil minions and Her harrowing, King Corak, First King of Astorwind, has declared a mandatory draft of every male in Astorwind of fighting age!
Every new warrior serving his King in this manner shall be duly compensated as a regular in the army! Failure to report for conscription will be considered treason!”
The declaration is met by a wailing of sorrow from the peasantry. Prince Casak issues a stern command and his soldiers move into the crowd to start pulling men for service. Fathers and sons are clung to by their loved ones all the more tightly as they are ripped apart.
“Oy!” comes a strong, commanding cry from within the crowd. “What’s this about, eh, kingy?! Haven’t we given enough of our spoils to fill yer pockets, eh? Now ye gots yet take our very selfs, eh?!”
“Silence!” cries the herald. “By royal decree...!”
“Royal decree me arse!” shouts the voice. Out of the crowd steps a strongly built halfling with curly brown hair. “We have as much stake as you do, so I think at least an explanation is required, I do, eh?! Eh, kingy?!”
The crowd gasps at the bravery or foolishness of this young halfling man. Several of the halfling girls swoon. “Kem!” some of them weakly cry.
To his bodyguards, Prince Casak says, somewhat bored, “Slay him.”
The bodyguards immediately moved forward and grabs the halfling by the neck.
“Oy!” shouts Kem, the halfling. “Ain’t done nothing yet, have I! What, is speaking against the law now, too??!”
“Wait!” shouts king Corak. “Let him speak.”
Prince Casak rolls his eyes. “Oh father, always seeking to appear fair minded,” he whispers under his breath. “I know the truth.”
The bodyguards roughly throw Kem to the ground in front of the king. Kem stands up and brushes himself off, looking at the bodyguards with anger in his eyes.
“Well...?” prompts King Corak in a stern, intimidating voice. “You seem to think my royal decree is somehow... unjust?”
Kem pulls himself up to his full 3.5 feet, standing proud before his king. “Aye, indeed it is, kingy! You already tax us as half of everything we make! It’s a hard burden, I says, a hard burden to carry! And now ye seeks to take every man of fighting age, be he a fighter or not, and throw him into battle. We don’t know how to fight! Surely we will be slain, and then ye’ll get nothin’, as half of nothin’ is still nothin’! With no men to tend the fields and plant as next year, ye’ll have no harvest! There’s nothin’ left for ye to take, kingy! Did ye ever think of that, eh, kingy?!”
Very slowly, the king removes his gauntlets. “Nareth,” he says to the soldier at his side. “You’re a common man. Tell this common man why he must serve his king. Tell him that if he doesn’t fight, there will be no fields for him to harvest. Tell him. Now.”
@lolien
Your character is also in the crowd. Feel free to step in if you feel it is something your character would do. If not, I will introduce your character later.
Nareth straightens the helmet and comes forward. His gaze is lowered, but gestures express determination:
" My King ... Good Men! We are ordinary people, I say, and we are not told to violate the will of the Gods and our King. As your garrison sergeant ... as a soldier, I will say that this is our civil and sacred duty " - he looked down, a shadow of a doubt appeared on his face and was immediately erased.
“ By whom, me good lad Kem, do ya still wish to challenge the royal decree after this? We know each other for many years, the time is difficult and requires decisive measures, I say. Who knows better, than ya? "
Nareth continues. His face expression becomes more and more severe while he speaks:
" Answer me, me good Kem, what would happen to your beloved fields if we fail and fall defeated? Will it be ya protecting them, while the enemy has broken us separately? Who would ya call for help then, eh? A miller? A smith? .. Believe me, the enemy must be defeated by our united efforts, I say. We are soldiers, and it is our Duty. But now this Duty demands that we ask for help the other commoners. Such simple citizens like ya, me lad. " - Nareth ends his speech intently looking into Kem's eyes. The sergeant stands close to the halfling and looms threateningly over him.
" What would happen to ye mother then? " - Nareth continues. - " Who would protect 'er, huh? Think about ye close one's safety first and leave ye weak excuses behind! "
Kem, unprepared to be corrected by one he, and the crowd, sees as his equal, steps back a bit, much less sure of himself.
“It seems to me, good people of Astorwind,” says the king, stepping down from his horse, “that Kem here is unwilling to make the same sacrifices for his fields, for his village, for you, that good, faithful Nareth is! And they’re not even Nareth’s fields!”
At that, Kem’s ire flares back up. “Now see here jus’ a minute, kingy!” he spits. “I sacrifice plenty, I do! Half of everything I got, as a matter of fact! And what is you doin’ with all them taxes, anyways, if you’re comin’ here askin for our help? Eh? Seems to me you ain’t doin’ your job as well as ye says every day! Maybe if you weren’t wastin’ our hard earned taxes on creature comforts and silks, ye’d have enough left to fund fer protecting our borders, eh? How’s it that you take HALF of all our wealth and STILL don’t have enough to protect us, as you gots to come ask us ter do your job!? Why is we even payin’ ye, eh?! Eh, kingy!?”
Colden walks up to King Corak and whispers in his ear.
"My Lord, don't make a martyr out of this man. There's rumors of halfling dissidents, and a martyr is a strong symbol to gather hatred and contempt against you around. "
The king, his ire rising at the criticism, keeps his anger in check at Colden’s advice.
“My people!” he roars. “Orcs in the northern border have fallen upon our kingdom! The Bloodeye Clan, our hated enemies, have let the vile creatures pass through their lands unhindered so they can wreak havoc and destruction upon your homes, upon your fields, upon your fair children! Even now the Bloodeye Clan is rejoicing as the orcs raid our lands!”
At the mention of the Bloodeye Clan, the crowd gives a low murmur of anger, and even Kem’s face hardens.
“How much joy do you think they have as we are delayed by bickering amongst ourselves!”
“But if it weren’t for your leadership, perhaps we wouldn’t be in this predicament, eh?” shouts Kem, though now the crowd seems split.
Nareth's face expresses approval, and his eyes are narrowed. He rubs his beard thoughtfully, gazing from under his forehead.
Nareth is glad he was able to prevent the bloodshed. Kem is no doubt a fool, but... our fool, if he may say so. And, in addition, halfling's words made sense. Or do they?
*Lagrord looks Kem in the eyes hoping to catch his attention. He gives a sympathetic look and gently and slowly shakes his head. Silently pleading for him to back down. Hopefully Kem recognizes him.*
Lagrord succeeds in catching Kem’s attention. Kem’s anger softens slightly, but he stands firm to his convictions.
“And why should we even be payin’ yer outrageous taxes if ye ain’t even capable of protecting us to begin with?” he shouts. “You yerself, oh kingy, says it dozens o’ times.” He starts to imitate the king’s low, growly voice. The effect isn’t quite successful, but it gets the point across.
“‘By Royal Decree and whatnot, know yer taxes are benefitting yer families, though ye can’t see how!’ That’s what ye says. Well, now we can see how, and it ain’t pretty! Bringin’ us off ter war? How is that ‘benefiting’ our families, eh? Eh, kingy?!
“Well, I says ye can’t just come in here demanding us ter do yer job without us getting some of the perks! I says ye let us have a say in how things are run around here! I say ye let’s us keep some more o’ our own profits and let us have more say in the laws, ‘specially if ye ain’t gonna do it right to begin with! Eh? Eh?!”
At this the half of the peasantry that is on Kem’s side let out a huge roar of approval. The other half looks far less sure of themselves.
*Lagrord, wary of the situation, spies the Prince readying a crossbow. He knows the look in the Prince's eyes, the look of contempt and barely restrained murder. The Prince has shot that look his way many a time. Kem is dead if somebody doesn't do something. Praying this works, Lagrord tries to spook the King's horse and send it running towards the Prince to hopefully stop the Prince's attack.*
Comments
“Then I require you to come with me to the town square,” he says. “You must be there for the draft, otherwise it will not seem as official. After that, you can gather your things. I must be on my way with the army as soon as possible.”
“NARETH!!!” he shouts at the top of his lungs. “Get back in here! I told you to STAY in here!!!!!” It’s obvious to any watching that he is shouting simply for the sport of it and nothing Nareth said or did could have prevented the scolding.
" I am at your service, My Liege! " - he salutes.
The king is enjoying shouting at his guards today.
" But... my King!.. " - having doubted for a second, he again pulls himself up and adds: " For me it will be an honor! " - He bows. Nareth still doubted the King’s seriousness, considering his mood lately.
“Is that something you think you can do, Nareth? Answer me, Nareth!!!”
Nareth still resisted these circumstances that foreshadowed quick and dramatic changes in his life. He got used to the usual routine of the Castle Astowind and his tiny garrison. The surrounding world, frankly, did not interested him much and he still did not believe this is going to happen.
“Now, we shall all make our way to the square and institute the draft. This will come as a surprise, but there’s nothing for it.”
If you’re reading along and you’re interested in joining up, just send me a PM and we can make it happen.
*How did that song go again? Dun, dundun, duh, dun dun. No, that's not right. Sigh, I'm no bard.*
Legends say these dots are great black crows of Winter who seek to suffocate and spread their hatred across the land. The black dust seems to come from these strange things. Whenever they are in the sky, the black dust rains down like dead flower petals lain at a funeral.
Such it is today. The dust swirls violently through the streets, sparkling and glimmering eerily in the long rays of sunshine, then suddenly seeming to disappear in the cross-shadows. Those standing in the shadows hardly know they are swarmed by dust, while the combined glare from the dust in the sunlight is nearly blinding.
Prince Casak sneers down at the sight, his disgust and contempt written plainly on his features. The king detaches from the garrison, several hundred strong, as the soldiery make their way to the walls. The King, wearing a stern expression and his royal battlemail, signals.
The royal herald, a tall, lanky man with a big mouth, raises an old trumpet to his lips and uses it to make a bleating, hollow, sloppy sound.
“By royal decree,” he booms, reading from the declaration penned by Colden, “and to protect the lands and homes of his subjects, and to prevent the destruction of those lands by Winter’s evil minions and Her harrowing, King Corak, First King of Astorwind, has declared a mandatory draft of every male in Astorwind of fighting age!
Every new warrior serving his King in this manner shall be duly compensated as a regular in the army! Failure to report for conscription will be considered treason!”
“Oy!” comes a strong, commanding cry from within the crowd. “What’s this about, eh, kingy?! Haven’t we given enough of our spoils to fill yer pockets, eh? Now ye gots yet take our very selfs, eh?!”
“Silence!” cries the herald. “By royal decree...!”
“Royal decree me arse!” shouts the voice. Out of the crowd steps a strongly built halfling with curly brown hair. “We have as much stake as you do, so I think at least an explanation is required, I do, eh?! Eh, kingy?!”
The crowd gasps at the bravery or foolishness of this young halfling man. Several of the halfling girls swoon. “Kem!” some of them weakly cry.
To his bodyguards, Prince Casak says, somewhat bored, “Slay him.”
The bodyguards immediately moved forward and grabs the halfling by the neck.
“Oy!” shouts Kem, the halfling. “Ain’t done nothing yet, have I! What, is speaking against the law now, too??!”
“Wait!” shouts king Corak. “Let him speak.”
Prince Casak rolls his eyes. “Oh father, always seeking to appear fair minded,” he whispers under his breath. “I know the truth.”
“Well...?” prompts King Corak in a stern, intimidating voice. “You seem to think my royal decree is somehow... unjust?”
Kem pulls himself up to his full 3.5 feet, standing proud before his king. “Aye, indeed it is, kingy! You already tax us as half of everything we make! It’s a hard burden, I says, a hard burden to carry! And now ye seeks to take every man of fighting age, be he a fighter or not, and throw him into battle. We don’t know how to fight! Surely we will be slain, and then ye’ll get nothin’, as half of nothin’ is still nothin’! With no men to tend the fields and plant as next year, ye’ll have no harvest! There’s nothin’ left for ye to take, kingy! Did ye ever think of that, eh, kingy?!”
Very slowly, the king removes his gauntlets. “Nareth,” he says to the soldier at his side. “You’re a common man. Tell this common man why he must serve his king. Tell him that if he doesn’t fight, there will be no fields for him to harvest. Tell him. Now.”
Your character is also in the crowd. Feel free to step in if you feel it is something your character would do. If not, I will introduce your character later.
" My King ... Good Men! We are ordinary people, I say, and we are not told to violate the will of the Gods and our King. As your garrison sergeant ... as a soldier, I will say that this is our civil and sacred duty " - he looked down, a shadow of a doubt appeared on his face and was immediately erased.
“ By whom, me good lad Kem, do ya still wish to challenge the royal decree after this? We know each other for many years, the time is difficult and requires decisive measures, I say. Who knows better, than ya? "
“And what, praytell, Nareth,” says the king, “would happen to Kem’s fields here if it weren’t for your sacrifices in battle on his behalf?”
" Answer me, me good Kem, what would happen to your beloved fields if we fail and fall defeated? Will it be ya protecting them, while the enemy has broken us separately? Who would ya call for help then, eh? A miller? A smith? .. Believe me, the enemy must be defeated by our united efforts, I say. We are soldiers, and it is our Duty. But now this Duty demands that we ask for help the other commoners. Such simple citizens like ya, me lad. " - Nareth ends his speech intently looking into Kem's eyes. The sergeant stands close to the halfling and looms threateningly over him.
" What would happen to ye mother then? " - Nareth continues. - " Who would protect 'er, huh? Think about ye close one's safety first and leave ye weak excuses behind! "
“It seems to me, good people of Astorwind,” says the king, stepping down from his horse, “that Kem here is unwilling to make the same sacrifices for his fields, for his village, for you, that good, faithful Nareth is! And they’re not even Nareth’s fields!”
At that, Kem’s ire flares back up. “Now see here jus’ a minute, kingy!” he spits. “I sacrifice plenty, I do! Half of everything I got, as a matter of fact! And what is you doin’ with all them taxes, anyways, if you’re comin’ here askin for our help? Eh? Seems to me you ain’t doin’ your job as well as ye says every day! Maybe if you weren’t wastin’ our hard earned taxes on creature comforts and silks, ye’d have enough left to fund fer protecting our borders, eh? How’s it that you take HALF of all our wealth and STILL don’t have enough to protect us, as you gots to come ask us ter do your job!? Why is we even payin’ ye, eh?! Eh, kingy!?”
"My Lord, don't make a martyr out of this man. There's rumors of halfling dissidents, and a martyr is a strong symbol to gather hatred and contempt against you around. "
Colden then steps back again.
“My people!” he roars. “Orcs in the northern border have fallen upon our kingdom! The Bloodeye Clan, our hated enemies, have let the vile creatures pass through their lands unhindered so they can wreak havoc and destruction upon your homes, upon your fields, upon your fair children! Even now the Bloodeye Clan is rejoicing as the orcs raid our lands!”
At the mention of the Bloodeye Clan, the crowd gives a low murmur of anger, and even Kem’s face hardens.
“How much joy do you think they have as we are delayed by bickering amongst ourselves!”
“But if it weren’t for your leadership, perhaps we wouldn’t be in this predicament, eh?” shouts Kem, though now the crowd seems split.
“And why should we even be payin’ yer outrageous taxes if ye ain’t even capable of protecting us to begin with?” he shouts. “You yerself, oh kingy, says it dozens o’ times.” He starts to imitate the king’s low, growly voice. The effect isn’t quite successful, but it gets the point across.
“‘By Royal Decree and whatnot, know yer taxes are benefitting yer families, though ye can’t see how!’ That’s what ye says. Well, now we can see how, and it ain’t pretty! Bringin’ us off ter war? How is that ‘benefiting’ our families, eh? Eh, kingy?!
“Well, I says ye can’t just come in here demanding us ter do yer job without us getting some of the perks! I says ye let us have a say in how things are run around here! I say ye let’s us keep some more o’ our own profits and let us have more say in the laws, ‘specially if ye ain’t gonna do it right to begin with! Eh? Eh?!”
At this the half of the peasantry that is on Kem’s side let out a huge roar of approval. The other half looks far less sure of themselves.