Severin awoke.
A lifetime spent on the edges of civilization kept his body still and breathing regular as he sorted through his most recent impressions to try and discover what had woken him from a sound sleep. A muffled creak from outside his bedchamber cut short his internal review and setting his pulse suddenly thundering in his ears. Another creak a moment later suggested that his nocturnal visitor was making their way across the archive room towards the rear shelves.
With a silent curse, the old man swung his legs out of bed, and sat up. Moving as quietly as he could, he knelt down and reached under the bed, easing out a cloth-wrapped bundle. Forged of Mithral by the dwarves of the Battlefist clan, the very act of grasping the battle axe filled his ancient limbs with a youthful vigour. He had carried the axe into battle for over forty-five years. Rising to his feet, he straightened his nightgown and crept towards the curtain that separated his bedchamber from the archives. Years of scouting in the wild-lands had honed his abilities and he crossed the room soundlessly, it also helped that he had long ago taken care to learn where all the loose boards in his floor were located. Twitching aside the thick curtain he peered into the room beyond.
A flickering blue light gave the room beyond a washed out appearance, accentuating the shadows that seemed to cling to the edges of the room. The source of the light was a small ball of light, floating free of any visible means of support at the shoulder of a hooded figure. The little ball pulsed and spat little goblets of fiery blue sparks on to the floor as the shadowy figure slowly moved a long ebony wand about in front of the rear bookshelves. The wand was being moved across each self in turn, in a calm and unhurried manner. Obviously old archivists sleeping next door were not a threat, Severin's lip curled at being dismissed in such an off hand manner and he eased himself fully into the room, axe held at the ready.
"Visiting hours are over."
As the hooded figure whirled about to face him the ball of light flared up brightly so that Severin was forced to glance away. He blinked his vision clear just in time to see the figure before him make a complicated gesture and bark out a word. A wave of soul numbing terror washed over him.
By the flickering light Severin could see the eyes of the man glowing brightly from within the shadows of his hood, and ,try as he might, he couldn't seem to look away. A strangled groan began to escape from the old rangers throat as he stumbled backwards. He should have stayed in bed and pretended he had heard nothing, what was he thinking at his time of life? Such was his panic that even his grip on the old trusty axe loosened, it hit the floor with a ringing thud, the blade sinking into the wooden boards.
The unexpected clatter of the axe startled Severin, causing him to glance down and break eye contact with the hooded man. As he stared at the axe blade embedded in the floor he found his mind beginning to clear. The fear was still there, but no worse than any he had faced a hundred times before. The dawning realization that he had just been ensorcelled washed even those last traces away. With a roar of rage the old man wrenched his axe out of the floor.
"It'll take more than some half-arsed charm to see me off", he spat out, "I've faced the Varanites at Seaum Gap and never broke, and I'll not break for the likes of you!" The axe came up as he prepared to charge.
"Wait", the figure's voice was deep, the tone commanding. Severin had served as a scout both with the regulars and for many seasons with a regiment of Redboots, he recognized a command when he heard it. The man before him spoke with the authority of one who was used to unquestioning obedience and despite himself the old ranger found himself pausing.
"You fought at Seaum", although the question was spoken softly Severin found himself compelled to answer.
"Aye, and Raliua field, and in the foothills of Kor, what's it to you?", he replied warily, squinting as the ball of fire continued to pulse and flare.
"Lower your axe, if you fought at Seaum, then we have no quarrel. Here, you will recognize this", the man walked toward Severin holding forth his hand as he did so.
Keeping his axe at the ready the old man glanced carefully at the stranger’s hand. In his palm was a silver pin such as might be used to clasp a cloak. The design was simple, as stylized rune, and not one Severin had ever expected to see again. As he lifted it from the man's hand Severin found long buried memories resurfacing.
*************
Seaum Gap was never a strategically important pass. There were plenty of other, easier, ways through the low range of hills that flanked the mining town of Hurdas.
Severin had been serving in a regiment of irregulars, under Lord Avrous Greger, when word was received that the Varanite third legion was marching on Hurdas. Sent to assist in the defense of the town, it had been apparent to Severin upon their arrival that the town was indefensible. Years of peaceful prosperity and the unexpected nature of the Varanite invasion had left the town ill prepared for any siege. It was obviously apparent to Lord Greger as well, for even as they marched into Hurdas he was giving the order to organize an evacuation. A day later almost eight hundred townspeople, with all they could carry, began a desperate race for the safety of the fortified city of Durace.
Duke Idomene, commander of the third legion, had chosen to take the orders of his Emperor to crush all Dasarian resistance very literally; within in the first few months of the invasion his name had become synonymous with Varanite brutality. His army was still several days march from Hurdas when he received word that the town was being evacuated. Obsessed with keeping his emperor's approval, Idomene contrived a hasty scheme to prevent the Dasarians escape, even as he gave the order to his troops to march double time through the night.
Aware that the bulk of the third’s foot was closing on Hurdas quickly, Lord Greger's plan had been to use the ancient road through the Durace Pass to retreat, a longer distance as the crow flies, but a quicker and easier route than any of his alternatives.
It was a good plan but it began to fail early on the first day of march as his scouts brought word of Varanite Light cavalry closing on the column. On the second day of travel the Varanite cavalry, supported by battle evokers, began to harass the refugees, slowing the retreat and subtly turning the line of March away from the Durace Pass and towards Seaum Gap.
Unable to bring the Varanite skirmishers to battle and protect the townspeople at the same time, Lord Greger chose to turn away from the Durace pass and make a sudden push for the Gap. He may have assumed that the skirmishers where only trying to slow his retreat while the Third's foot advanced. This change of direction certainly seemed to work, the enemy pressure eased up, it was only as they reached the supposed safety of the pass that the Dasarians discovered why they had been allowed to "escape".
Moving by magical means a group of Varanite Evokers had reached Seaum Gap well before the Dasarians. A half days travel into the gorge they had collapsed the steep walls, forming an impassable barrier of debris. An anvil for Idomene's hammer to crush the Dasarians against.
Stumbling with exhaustion, Severin had almost wept with dismay when they found the rock fall, he was not alone. Even as he was trying to take in the immensity of the trap they had fallen into, scouts brought word that the Varanite Third Legion was approaching the mouth of the Gap.
Lord Greger did his best to prepare before the light could begin to fade, but all present knew he had few spell casters able to counter the Third’s battle evokers, nor were there sufficient tools to establish any significant defensive structures.
As dusk began to fall the sound of marching began to echo up the pass and column of Varanite infantry wound its way into view. Just outside of bow range they came to a crashing stop, grounding their tower shields as one in a display of chilling precision.
Severin could recall the hush that fell as Duke Idomene rode out to address Lord Greger in a loud clear voice.
The Duke's terms were simple.
Every man between fourteen and fifty would lose their right hand, as would any woman proven to be bearing arms. All children under fourteen and any women between fifteen and twenty-three were now property of Varana. Everyone else was free to return, under escort, to the Varanite town of Hurdas. If there was any resistance, every man, woman, and child would be cut down where they stood; their corpses left as testimony of what happened to those that resisted the imperial might of Varana.
As he was a generous man he even gave them until dawn to make their decision.
To this day Severin could remember the sick dread he had felt as the Varanites withdrew back down the gorge to where the bulk of the third had established their camp. There could be no escape without leaving the townspeople to their fate, and so,
there would be no escape.
It was in the darkest hours of the new day, well before dawn, that what Severin still personally thought of as the miracle had happened.
Three cloaked figures had arrived at the Dasarian pickets, and calmly requested permission to speak to Lord Gerger. At each of their throats had been a pin, such as the one he held now, all that was needed to convince the poor sentry to escort them through the camp to the tent of his lord. The word of the Harper’s arrival had quickly spread through the guard, bringing hope with it.
Severin was not privileged to hear what was discussed in the lord's tent, but as dawn approached Lord Greger ordered the camp roused as quietly as possible. He explained that against all odds there was a concealed tunnel a short march in front of the Varanite camp. If they could reach it before the Varanites detected them, there was a chance all could win free.
Lord Greger himself would lead an advance party back down the gorge. His plan was simple, should the Varanites show any sign of realizing what was happening the Dasarians would attack the Varanite camp, tying to cause as much disruption and chaos as possible to buy time for the civilians. Then, when Lord Greger judged the moment right, they would disengage and retreat back to the tunnel in an orderly fashion.
Severin could see it was likely to be a suicide mission; not that it had stopped him from being one of the hundred volunteers to be accepted into the Lord's raiding party.
At first all had seemed to be going well. The Varanite scouts were easily neutralized and charms to ward against Varanite clairvoyance spells had been strengthened, as the townsfolk were lead under the cover of silence spells to the escape passage. Severin never had worked out what gave them away, but suddenly the Varanite horns were sounding the alarm and he found himself charging through darkness towards what seemed certain death.
The initial slaughter was brutal as the Dasarians hit the mostly unprepared Varanites, but the outcome was never really in any doubt. Moment by moment the Varanites recovered and more warriors moved to engage the outnumbered Dasarians. Severin soon found himself on the defensive, sweeping his axe in wide arcs to keep the Varanite short swords from his throat. More by luck than planning he linked up with some twenty other irregulars as Lord Greger's horn began to shrill the retreat, it didn't sound for long before it ended abruptly.
Step by bloody step the Dasarians retreated backwards up the gorge, covering each other as best they could against sword and arrow, dreading the moment when the Evokers must surely strike.
The then ringing of Varanite horns saw the Varanite footmen breaking off from the melee, stepping back and bringing their shields up in a strong shield wall. Exhausted, bleeding, but unbroken, the Dasarians had formed their thin own line, separated from the Varanites by a mere twenty or so paces. Severin had estimated there where less than forty of them left.
The moment they had feared had come.
Balls of molten fire had risen from the centre of the camp to streak towards the battered warriors. Severin watched them arcing towards him, filling the air with the roar of a hundred bonfires, and braced himself. Then, from the corner of his eye, he caught another movement, one of the cloaked strangers had flickered into visibility only few paces away from him, chanting desperately.
Abruptly all sound of battle ceased, Severin turned back to see an astonishing scene before him. The balls of fire hung suspended in the air, unmoving. The wall of Varanites before him were likewise immobile, one even paused in the act of toppling over with an arrow in his eye.
"Don't stand there gawping you fools, run!", the Harper took his own advice and set off up the slope in a desperate scramble.
Severin hadn't needed to be told twice, he had turned and run. He counted to twenty before the sound of the battle crashed back into existence again. Arms pumping desperately he followed the figure in front of him up the rocky slope. A brilliant flash threw his shadow out before him, suggesting the fireballs had finished their flight. The roar of the battle behind him faltered momentarily and then redoubled as the Varanites caught sight of their fleeing foes. Severin didn't waste time glancing back, he redoubled his efforts, gaining on the cloaked figure.
"Not far now", the man had gasped as Severin drew equal with him.
"I thought....the passage....was a half hour from...the front lines", Severin had panted back.
"Not talking...about the...passage", somehow the blonde man had managed to find the energy for a tight grin.
Strung out and staggering the survivors of Greger's charge had at last reached the top of the rise they had so recently charged down. Pausing to glance behind Severin could see that several dozen Varanites had broken rank pursue them.
"Form a line, you must hold them if my brethren are to do their part", the Harpers voice carried clearly as he drew his long sword, bright blue flames licking about it as it came free of the scabbard.
As battered survivors of the first attack formed up on the rise their Varanite pursuers began to slow, realizing their prey had stopped running. A hail of rocks and arrows soon had them retreating, but below them Severin could see officers marshalling the Varanite horde.
“We’ll not hold them for more than a moment when they come in force”, he murmured to the blonde man.
“We don't need to, we only seek to slow their advance. Pass the word, on my signal run as you've never run before”, the blond man spoke softly from the side of his mouth, never taking his eyes off the massing troops below.
The ringing tones of the Varanite horns floated up again into the morning air, sounding the advance. Their shields held before them the Varanites began marching up slope, each step bringing them closer to the waiting Dasarians.
It began with the lightest of tremors, almost hidden beneath the tramp of the marching Varanites; Severin had only noticed it because he was expecting something. With it he became aware of a sudden stillness to the air, as if every wild thing had chosen that moment to stop it’s business and be silent.
“Now!” bellowed the blond Harper.
Again they turned and ran, even as the ground began to shake and lurch beneath them.
Severin leaped a crack that suddenly opening in the ground before him, landing awkwardly, but determined to keep his feet. From behind him came a sound almost too loud to comprehend as hundred of tons of rock were ripped loose from the wall of the gorge. For long minutes the shaking had continued, when Severin finally found the courage to stop running and look back the lower section of the gorge was unrecognizable. All signs of the pursuing Varanites had been wiped from the face of the earth.
Four days later the survivors of Hurdas had reached Durace.
***********
"I thought you were all dead in the purges", he said softly handing the pin back to the man, noting as he did so that already the pristine silver had begun to discolor in his grasp.
"No archivist, not dead. We simply accepted that there was a time for stealth, and a time for confrontation", came the amused reply, "Go back to your bed, the days are coming when all who remember the old ways will be called upon to do their part, I’d get your rest while you can”.
Shaking his head in wonder the old archivist found himself shouldering his axe and limping back towards his bedchamber. At the curtain he paused to glance back towards the figure by the rear selves; a click told him that the wand had done its work - his hidden stash of lore was discovered.
It was some time before he could get back to sleep that night, even after he heard the door to the archives close softly. He was wondering if his mail shirt would still fit him...
A shadow from the past - Severin's Tale
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Flin Hearthstone
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Sally Adams
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Words on a page
Severin leaned back on his stool with a grimace. He rolled his shoulders and raised his hands above his head, cracking his knuckles with a number of explosive pops. With every passing year his fingers grew more gnarled and painful. Some mornings even contemplating setting quill to parchment was almost more than he could bear.
Ever since his nocturnal visitation a month ago, he had felt a growing urge to set down in writing knowledge that he processed, even though he knew committing such words to paper might well be a death sentence. This morning he had finally begun.
He reached into the dish of fine sand that he kept on his writing desk and carefully sprinkled it over the sheet in front of him. While he waited for the ink to dry he carefully filled and lit his pipe, another task that his decrepit fingers were making harder by the year.
With his head wreathed in a pleasant cloud of tobacco smoke he lifted the sheet from his lectern and tapped the loose sand back into the dish. With another grimace he limped over to his armchair and settled in to reread the words he had spent the morning writing.
The history of the Harpers can be said to start in the year 148 during the reign of King Damuzi III, he who history has come to call “The Onion King”.
Damuzi III came to the throne young, after the untimely death of his father Gudea II in battle. History records that Damuzi III was a weak willed king, and surrounded as he was by self serving councillors and nobles it is hardly surprising that during his rule the court came to be held in such ill repute by the people. Unprepared for the responsibility of the crown, a fact many have blamed upon the influence of the then queen mother Lugulba, the years of his rule saw numerous abuses of power made in his name.
It was into this den of vice and depravity that the young lord Sharruk Inannir arrived in the spring of 141. Although already a warrior of acknowledged martial prowess, it was Sharruk’s charismatic manner and absolute adhesion to the ancient Dasarian codes of honour and justice that came to be his true defining characteristics.
The bard Elthirla, in 167, said of Sharruk’s arrival in court “His arrival was like Utu’s mighty spear striking a mountain peak on a dark stormy night. In an instant all that was hither to hidden from sight was revealed in the stark light of truth”
Determined to oppose injustice where ever he found it, Sharruk is known to have quickly become a staunch opponent of many of the king’s favoured councillors. On numerous occasions this led to extended debates in the law halls before the king, where he was often able to cite obscure points of law to prevent the king from being convinced to carry out unjust acts.
It is also known that Sharruk survived at least 3 assassination attempts during his first year at court. But while he had his enemies he also quickly became a popular with the more traditional lords, who saw him as a force for moderation in turbulent times.
It was during another extended debate over inheritance laws in 148 BC that Damuzi III uttered the words that where, unlikely as it now seems, to set the stage for the formation of the harpers. Faced with another recitation of ancient laws the king is recorded as saying:
“Pray my lord Inannir cease this endless witterings! If you must insist on harping on like an old man, let your title henceforth be that of lord Harper!”
History does not recall who won the debate that day, but from that day forth Sharruk is commonly referred to by the title Lord Harper in court records.
Damuzi III died shortly afterwards (149) in the now infamous onion incident and was succeeded by his son Ninurtas I. Like his father Ninurtas was a wilful young man, but fortunately processing a stronger moral character. During Ninurtas reign many of the abuses of his father’s time where reversed and the court again came to be seen as a place of justice throughout the land.
It was under the rule of Ninurtas I that the great university at Caer was founded, and it is for this reason that he is known as “The Teacher”.
As a favourite of the new king, Sharruk was often to be found travelling the kingdom in the early years of Ninurtas’ reign. In his capacity as a councillor he spent his time gathering information for his king and often assisting with judgment in many disputes.
In his later years as he became less able to travel Sharruk gathered about him a group of younger companions who carried on his work.
In time these young men and woman came to be called Harpers.
Following the death of Sharruk in 171 the role of Harper lord passed to Delondra, a daughter of the house of Esh-kigur. As the power of the Harpers grew during the later years of Ninurtas rule and the early years of his son Jastin, (the Just), Delondra became concerned by the many temptations the Harpers now faced to abuse their power.
Surrounded by members of the court who sought their favour many of the Harpers are known to have given into temptation for the promises of personal gain. Indeed among many young nobles, the Harpers where fast coming to be seen as an opportunity to gain both personal power and prestige.
During the winter of 198 Delondra had all Harpers recalled to the Harper Hall in the capital, and after extended debate in spring 199 Delondra went before her king to relinquish all claims to her family name and lands.
With her where 80 other harpers. It was during this historical event that Delondra first set forth the vow of the Harpers and took the title High Harper.
I forfeit all claim to family and position, for I serve the people.
I forfeit all claim to titles and chattels, for I serve the land.
I forfeit all claim to land and hearth, for I follow the road less travelled.
I am a Harper.
Although several lords and non-sworn Harpers are recorded as pointing out that the Harper oath makes no mention of loyalty to the crown, King Jastin appears to have been well pleased with the relationship established.
After Delondra the title of High Harper passed to Antum (called the fox). During Antum’s tenure Harpers travelled the length and breath of Dasaria and beyond in the process gaining all manner of obscure knowledge. With little prospect of gaining personal power only the most dedicated souls now chose the Harper’s road.
Antum is credited with the creation of the first Harper’s pin, (also called the last coin), after an extended visit with the Dwarves of Rungarson clan; A badge that was carried through to the days of the Varanite invasion.
As the years passed and Dasaria grew prosperous, the fortunes of the Harpers began to fail.
Many came to see them as an antiquated order from earlier, more unsettled, times. From the reign of Queen Julica the Harpers power was further eroded with the formation of a royal corps of heralds, responsible to the crown directly, following a disagreement between the Queen and the then High Harper, Shauna Elf-friend.
By 381 the number of Harpers recorded as inhabiting the halls had fallen to 36. It was High Harper Samael who at this time began the recruitment of orphaned youths to bolster numbers, a practice that was to remain the main method of Harper recruitment through to the destruction of the order.
Queen Sabrina came to power in the spring of 417. Like so many of her ancestors she was a woman of strong character. With hindsight it is therefore no great surprise that she secretly married Cirral, a minor nobleman of Durace, against her mother’s wishes in 415.
This wilfulness was to set the tone for the rest of her rule, and played no small part in the tragedy that followed.
Queen Sabrina was a woman of great ambitions, committed to establishing herself as the greatest Dasarian monarch since Siril. With no foreign enemies to contend against she embarked upon a major civil works program. During it’s early years the grand project was welcomed by the queen’s councillors, who saw it as productive outlet for the queen’s energies.
But tragedy struck in the winter of 428 when Sabrina’s beloved Cirral was killed in a hunting accident. Devastated the queen entered into a year long period of morning that she never truly recovered from.
Upon her return to court she threw herself back into the great building plan, but as the costs began escalate many on the council of lords began to become alarmed. Vital moneys where being diverted to pay the growing army of foreign craftsman Sabrina was importing. Lords who objected to her great plan too vocally soon found themselves leaving court, often for distant and obscure postings.
In the spring of 431 a number of ranking officers from the standing army visited the Queen to express it’s displeasure over a shortage of several months wages. Although the money was found, Queen Sabrina appears to have become concerned about the loyalty of the military’s and hired a division of Varanite mercenaries for protection, an act that further distanced her from her officers.
In the autumn of the same year Harper lord Parhad Ba-Jiricek went before the queen to express the concerns of the Harpers over the escalating number of foreign advisors appearing at court.
No one knows what was said behind the closed doors but at the end of the meeting Ba-Jiricek was seen to storm from the council room in great temper.
Two days later Queen Sabrina sent a herald to summon all Harpers before her to swear a personal oath of fealty. When the Herald returned with the news that the Harper hall was empty the Queen flew into a great rage. A proclamation was issued to the effect that all Harpers were to return to the capital and swear fealty within the month or be declared outlaws.
In total seven Harpers are known to have returned to court, six swore the oath, the seventh, Anthony Benedikt, was hung for treason in the spring of 433. A royal proclamation was sent forth, any man or woman found bearing the badge of a Harper was to be treated as an enemy to the crown.
The final years of Sabrina’s reign saw the realm falling into an increasing state of debt and disorder. When, in the spring of 443, the Varanite invasion began the under funded and already demoralised the Dasarian army was on the back foot from the beginning of the campaign.
I do not know if the stories that Queen Sabrina came to her senses in her last days and repented her errors are true. What is known is that she fell in battle in 443. Her body was never recovered.
As towns fell to the advancing Varanite armies’ rumours began to circulate of the return of the long missing Harpers. Harper scouts appeared out of morning mists to pass on vital information to beleaguered Dasarian regiments, only to leave as mysteriously as they appeared. Refugees where guided to previously hidden paths through the thick Dasarian forests.
Lead by the valiant Queen Kallindra the Dasarians began to recover hope as the Varanite advance began to slow.
Scouts from both armies began to tell of finding the sites of small viscous battles, strewn with the bodies of elite Varanite troops and Harper Scouts. But even these sacrifices proved in vain as the Varanites finally took Dasar in an orgy of blood and destruction in the year 447. During the battle before the palace gates Queen Kallindra fell.
To this day the fate of her daughter Nelia is unknown.
It seems likely that she was spirited from the battle as the Varanite leadership offered bounty on the head of all suspects, including all living Harpers. However an equally often heeded rumour says that the body of the princess lies in an unmarked grave in the grounds of the now ruined palace.
Whatever the truth of the matter the gods have till now remained silent, although many faithful followers of all sects have petitioned them for the truth.
Ba-Jiricek and several loyal followers where executed in 448, apparently betrayed by a hitherto trusted ally. With his death the Varanites declared the “Harper movement” crushed, although I find it interesting that the bounty has never been revoked.
Today the Harpers are passing out of memory, just another story from Dasaria’s noble history. Although in the back rooms of Taverns and ale houses throughout the oppressed land I have heard that the bards still speak of a hidden order who work for the restoration of a missing heir...
Ever since his nocturnal visitation a month ago, he had felt a growing urge to set down in writing knowledge that he processed, even though he knew committing such words to paper might well be a death sentence. This morning he had finally begun.
He reached into the dish of fine sand that he kept on his writing desk and carefully sprinkled it over the sheet in front of him. While he waited for the ink to dry he carefully filled and lit his pipe, another task that his decrepit fingers were making harder by the year.
With his head wreathed in a pleasant cloud of tobacco smoke he lifted the sheet from his lectern and tapped the loose sand back into the dish. With another grimace he limped over to his armchair and settled in to reread the words he had spent the morning writing.
The history of the Harpers can be said to start in the year 148 during the reign of King Damuzi III, he who history has come to call “The Onion King”.
Damuzi III came to the throne young, after the untimely death of his father Gudea II in battle. History records that Damuzi III was a weak willed king, and surrounded as he was by self serving councillors and nobles it is hardly surprising that during his rule the court came to be held in such ill repute by the people. Unprepared for the responsibility of the crown, a fact many have blamed upon the influence of the then queen mother Lugulba, the years of his rule saw numerous abuses of power made in his name.
It was into this den of vice and depravity that the young lord Sharruk Inannir arrived in the spring of 141. Although already a warrior of acknowledged martial prowess, it was Sharruk’s charismatic manner and absolute adhesion to the ancient Dasarian codes of honour and justice that came to be his true defining characteristics.
The bard Elthirla, in 167, said of Sharruk’s arrival in court “His arrival was like Utu’s mighty spear striking a mountain peak on a dark stormy night. In an instant all that was hither to hidden from sight was revealed in the stark light of truth”
Determined to oppose injustice where ever he found it, Sharruk is known to have quickly become a staunch opponent of many of the king’s favoured councillors. On numerous occasions this led to extended debates in the law halls before the king, where he was often able to cite obscure points of law to prevent the king from being convinced to carry out unjust acts.
It is also known that Sharruk survived at least 3 assassination attempts during his first year at court. But while he had his enemies he also quickly became a popular with the more traditional lords, who saw him as a force for moderation in turbulent times.
It was during another extended debate over inheritance laws in 148 BC that Damuzi III uttered the words that where, unlikely as it now seems, to set the stage for the formation of the harpers. Faced with another recitation of ancient laws the king is recorded as saying:
“Pray my lord Inannir cease this endless witterings! If you must insist on harping on like an old man, let your title henceforth be that of lord Harper!”
History does not recall who won the debate that day, but from that day forth Sharruk is commonly referred to by the title Lord Harper in court records.
Damuzi III died shortly afterwards (149) in the now infamous onion incident and was succeeded by his son Ninurtas I. Like his father Ninurtas was a wilful young man, but fortunately processing a stronger moral character. During Ninurtas reign many of the abuses of his father’s time where reversed and the court again came to be seen as a place of justice throughout the land.
It was under the rule of Ninurtas I that the great university at Caer was founded, and it is for this reason that he is known as “The Teacher”.
As a favourite of the new king, Sharruk was often to be found travelling the kingdom in the early years of Ninurtas’ reign. In his capacity as a councillor he spent his time gathering information for his king and often assisting with judgment in many disputes.
In his later years as he became less able to travel Sharruk gathered about him a group of younger companions who carried on his work.
In time these young men and woman came to be called Harpers.
Following the death of Sharruk in 171 the role of Harper lord passed to Delondra, a daughter of the house of Esh-kigur. As the power of the Harpers grew during the later years of Ninurtas rule and the early years of his son Jastin, (the Just), Delondra became concerned by the many temptations the Harpers now faced to abuse their power.
Surrounded by members of the court who sought their favour many of the Harpers are known to have given into temptation for the promises of personal gain. Indeed among many young nobles, the Harpers where fast coming to be seen as an opportunity to gain both personal power and prestige.
During the winter of 198 Delondra had all Harpers recalled to the Harper Hall in the capital, and after extended debate in spring 199 Delondra went before her king to relinquish all claims to her family name and lands.
With her where 80 other harpers. It was during this historical event that Delondra first set forth the vow of the Harpers and took the title High Harper.
I forfeit all claim to family and position, for I serve the people.
I forfeit all claim to titles and chattels, for I serve the land.
I forfeit all claim to land and hearth, for I follow the road less travelled.
I am a Harper.
Although several lords and non-sworn Harpers are recorded as pointing out that the Harper oath makes no mention of loyalty to the crown, King Jastin appears to have been well pleased with the relationship established.
After Delondra the title of High Harper passed to Antum (called the fox). During Antum’s tenure Harpers travelled the length and breath of Dasaria and beyond in the process gaining all manner of obscure knowledge. With little prospect of gaining personal power only the most dedicated souls now chose the Harper’s road.
Antum is credited with the creation of the first Harper’s pin, (also called the last coin), after an extended visit with the Dwarves of Rungarson clan; A badge that was carried through to the days of the Varanite invasion.
As the years passed and Dasaria grew prosperous, the fortunes of the Harpers began to fail.
Many came to see them as an antiquated order from earlier, more unsettled, times. From the reign of Queen Julica the Harpers power was further eroded with the formation of a royal corps of heralds, responsible to the crown directly, following a disagreement between the Queen and the then High Harper, Shauna Elf-friend.
By 381 the number of Harpers recorded as inhabiting the halls had fallen to 36. It was High Harper Samael who at this time began the recruitment of orphaned youths to bolster numbers, a practice that was to remain the main method of Harper recruitment through to the destruction of the order.
Queen Sabrina came to power in the spring of 417. Like so many of her ancestors she was a woman of strong character. With hindsight it is therefore no great surprise that she secretly married Cirral, a minor nobleman of Durace, against her mother’s wishes in 415.
This wilfulness was to set the tone for the rest of her rule, and played no small part in the tragedy that followed.
Queen Sabrina was a woman of great ambitions, committed to establishing herself as the greatest Dasarian monarch since Siril. With no foreign enemies to contend against she embarked upon a major civil works program. During it’s early years the grand project was welcomed by the queen’s councillors, who saw it as productive outlet for the queen’s energies.
But tragedy struck in the winter of 428 when Sabrina’s beloved Cirral was killed in a hunting accident. Devastated the queen entered into a year long period of morning that she never truly recovered from.
Upon her return to court she threw herself back into the great building plan, but as the costs began escalate many on the council of lords began to become alarmed. Vital moneys where being diverted to pay the growing army of foreign craftsman Sabrina was importing. Lords who objected to her great plan too vocally soon found themselves leaving court, often for distant and obscure postings.
In the spring of 431 a number of ranking officers from the standing army visited the Queen to express it’s displeasure over a shortage of several months wages. Although the money was found, Queen Sabrina appears to have become concerned about the loyalty of the military’s and hired a division of Varanite mercenaries for protection, an act that further distanced her from her officers.
In the autumn of the same year Harper lord Parhad Ba-Jiricek went before the queen to express the concerns of the Harpers over the escalating number of foreign advisors appearing at court.
No one knows what was said behind the closed doors but at the end of the meeting Ba-Jiricek was seen to storm from the council room in great temper.
Two days later Queen Sabrina sent a herald to summon all Harpers before her to swear a personal oath of fealty. When the Herald returned with the news that the Harper hall was empty the Queen flew into a great rage. A proclamation was issued to the effect that all Harpers were to return to the capital and swear fealty within the month or be declared outlaws.
In total seven Harpers are known to have returned to court, six swore the oath, the seventh, Anthony Benedikt, was hung for treason in the spring of 433. A royal proclamation was sent forth, any man or woman found bearing the badge of a Harper was to be treated as an enemy to the crown.
The final years of Sabrina’s reign saw the realm falling into an increasing state of debt and disorder. When, in the spring of 443, the Varanite invasion began the under funded and already demoralised the Dasarian army was on the back foot from the beginning of the campaign.
I do not know if the stories that Queen Sabrina came to her senses in her last days and repented her errors are true. What is known is that she fell in battle in 443. Her body was never recovered.
As towns fell to the advancing Varanite armies’ rumours began to circulate of the return of the long missing Harpers. Harper scouts appeared out of morning mists to pass on vital information to beleaguered Dasarian regiments, only to leave as mysteriously as they appeared. Refugees where guided to previously hidden paths through the thick Dasarian forests.
Lead by the valiant Queen Kallindra the Dasarians began to recover hope as the Varanite advance began to slow.
Scouts from both armies began to tell of finding the sites of small viscous battles, strewn with the bodies of elite Varanite troops and Harper Scouts. But even these sacrifices proved in vain as the Varanites finally took Dasar in an orgy of blood and destruction in the year 447. During the battle before the palace gates Queen Kallindra fell.
To this day the fate of her daughter Nelia is unknown.
It seems likely that she was spirited from the battle as the Varanite leadership offered bounty on the head of all suspects, including all living Harpers. However an equally often heeded rumour says that the body of the princess lies in an unmarked grave in the grounds of the now ruined palace.
Whatever the truth of the matter the gods have till now remained silent, although many faithful followers of all sects have petitioned them for the truth.
Ba-Jiricek and several loyal followers where executed in 448, apparently betrayed by a hitherto trusted ally. With his death the Varanites declared the “Harper movement” crushed, although I find it interesting that the bounty has never been revoked.
Today the Harpers are passing out of memory, just another story from Dasaria’s noble history. Although in the back rooms of Taverns and ale houses throughout the oppressed land I have heard that the bards still speak of a hidden order who work for the restoration of a missing heir...
Last edited by Harper on Thu Jan 08, 2004 7:58 am, edited 1 time in total.
Severin looked about the room that had been his home for so long. Of late, since he had made his decision, the room seemed to have grown to become cramped and confining, rather than warm and homely as it once was. The old ranger returned his attention to the parchment in front of him.
My dear daughter, he read.
I have decided to make one last journey rather than sit here and sink into senility. I have arranged for a quantity of gold to be made available to you and the girls so you are well provided for, I have no further use for it.
I have decided to present myself to the Queen and ask if she will accept me as a court historian, I fancy that I have some small talent in this field. I hope to convince her to let me tell the story of how she came to power. I know many of her subjects are curious about what happened to her following, the fall of Dasar and the death of her sainted mother Queen Kallindra.
I remain your loving father,
Severin Holderanson
Scout of Dasaria
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The riders sat on a windswept hill overlooking the distant battle.
The battle had been raging for four bloody days with neither attacker or defender giving any quarter. The Varanite General, Duke Kanista, had shown an alarming willingness to spend the lives of his men as he rdered
assault after assault, day and night, against the city walls. It was a brutal but effective strategy.
Smoke from burning buildings within the city walls hazed the air, making it difficult to follow the orderly movement of the Varanite troops still in the field. Periodically a bright flash or the distant crash of thunder would announce that there were mages and clerics on both sides of the battle still in the fight, although only the strongest were left now.
In the early hours of the morning the outer walls, undermined by sorcery, had finally fallen to the constant bombardment of the Varanite trebuchets. The defenders had rushed to fill the gap with their bodies and steel, but against the fresh reserve Varanite troops Kanista was funnelling into the breach it was painfully obvious to the watchers that it would only be a matter of time before the outer wall was taken. Stirring restlessly, one of the hooded riders addressed the tall craggy faced man to her left. Her voice shook with suppressed anger.
"My lord, is there nothing we can do?"
Ba-Jiricek turned from the unfolding catastrophe below him, his face weary, eyes bloodshot. His little troop had covered a great distance at a punishing pace in the last week and it showed on all their faces. Even so, he could sense them steeling themselves for greater efforts, should he give the word.
"What would you have us do child? We are but twenty", he looked back towards the battlefield, "and they are beyond counting. No, Dasar will fall, whether we throw our lives away in an act of foolish bravado or not."
The woman stiffened as she had been rebuked. Inwardly Ba-Jiricek sighed and held up a mollifying hand.
"Cera, your compassion is to be admired. But, "he extended his index finger to punctuate his statement", if we are to see Varana repulsed from these shores you must not become distracted by the minutia of events.
Dasar will fall. We have known it for sometime, as has the Queen. It is too great a prize, too great a rallying symbol, for Varana to ignore."
He let his gaze sweep over the rest of his companions and raised his voice to address them.
"You all know why we are here today. For the kingdom to survive it is vital that the royal line is not extinguished, Siril's heirs must be preserved. You all know your tasks and what we are fighting for", he let his gaze linger on Cera for a moment, "Do not allow yourselves to become distracted in the chaos below."
Drawing himself up he touched his heels to the flank of his steed and began to carefully make his way down the hill. Behind him the rest of the troop fell into military formation, the insignia of the Varanite third legion, forth auxiliary, fluttering into the air above them.
The sun was sinking into a blood red western sky as Cera peered out through the shutters of a window towards the palace. Her borrowed Varanite uniform had been left behind once they had penetrated the enemy lines and she was once again dressed in her comfortable scout leathers. The troop had entered the dying city with the Varanites as the outer wall finally fell. Just another squad of invaders setting about looting the city of anything of value.
Varanites, Dasarian troops, and civilians had all clashed in running battles through the city streets, making it relatively easy for the small team to reach the unremarkable baker's shop on the edge of the great plaza before the palace. Within a secret trapdoor in the cellar allowed easy access to the city sewers and their associated hidden passages.
Now, some hours later she, along with the rest of the troop, waited for Ba-Jiricek and his companions to return with the prize that had them risking so much.
The Varanites had already tried an assault against the place gates. Ceris had been pleased to see it had been easily repulsed, the brave defenders rallied by the distinctive figure of the Queen in her shining plate armour. The Varanites had eventually withdrawn across the plaza, leaving their dead behind them
Now Cera was watching the purposeful movements of the Varanite enchanters and war priests in the plaza below. The scrying wards in the walls of the shop would protect the Harpers from all but the most powerful divinational magic, but she had always believed it never hurt to keep a physical eye on what was going on around her.
Try as she might she couldn't fathom what ritual was being performed below, and that had begun to worry her. Whatever was going on however, it was obvious that it was moving towards a climax as the casters formed up around a Varanite war altar.
She glanced over to Aleric who was crouched beside her, his face was calm, if a little pale. She twitched her head back towards the stairs, he nodded before slowly easing his way back from the window and padding down the stairs.
Over the palace dark clouds were beginning to gather ominously, Cera grimaced at the sudden taste of tin in her mouth.
"What is it?"
She jumped, such had been her concentration on the scene unfolding below she hadn't heard Aleric had returning with Joni, the senior scout.
"I'm not sure", she admitted, gesturing him to the window, "but whatever it is, it's going to happen soon".
As she turned back to the window a blinding flash and concussive roar rocked the building.
Shaking her head to clear it, Cera pulled herself to her feet and staggered back to the window. One of the shutters was missing, obviously blasted to splinters. Out in the plaza searing flames roared from the palace, their unholy light burning into her irises. Cera gave a horrified moan as she realised too late exactly what the Varanites had done.
With hands shaking from shock she began to try and re-establish her defensive spells, they had without exception crumpled like tissue paper as the Varanites had called the Hell-ball into existence.
As she fumbled the gestures for a simple magical shield for the second time a bubbling moan from behind her caused her to turn and she discovered just where the missing shutter had gone.
A quick glance at Joni suggested he'd not be getting up again, splinters of wood had removed most of his head. Aleric was still breathing, although if the shard of window frame in his chest wasn't removed this would probably soon change.
Cera staggered over to him and dropped to her knees, pulling out a potion as she did so. As she worked her thumbnail into the wax that sealed the vial, Aleric's eye's opened. She tried to give him an encouraging smile.
His eyes met hers desperately as he forced himself to choke out the words, "Wards... are... down."
Cera stopped and concentrated. He was right. In addition to her own defensive spells the concealing wards of the building had been blasted out of existence. Casting any greater spell, or calling on the healing powers of one of the gods, would be like sending up a beacon for any Varanite diviner in the area.
Aleric managed a crooked grin, "Probably best...if you wait for the boss before...using that darlin'", the effort left him wheezing and with a bloody froth of bubbles at his lips.
Cera gave his hand a quick squeeze and nodded her understanding.
"I'll be right back", she whispered, "don't go anywhere"
Lurching to her feet she stumbled to the stairs and clattered to the lower floor.
Downstairs the devastation was less severe, the kitchen protected by walls of the shop in front. The rest of the troop was already dusting temselves off, faces grim but determined.
"Joni's dead, Aleric's looking bad, and the wards are down", she reported, "I need a hand getting him down the stairs".
Ba-Jiricek splashed down the tunnel at a lurching run, sweat dripping from his forehead. The weight of the little girl on his back and the hip deep water had him wheezing for breath, of all the stupid times for an Endurance spell to fail.
"Be thankful that you have your life old man", he reminded himself. They had been lucky to leave at the moment they did, poor Gerswha, guarding their rear, had been caught in a wash of Varanite hellfire. Ba-Jiricek doubted he'd ever forget the sight.
"Sha', how are we doing?" he gasped.
The slight man in black carrying a long sword ahead of him paused to call back, "Three more junctions boss, almost there!"
Ba-Jiricek tucked his chin in and lumbered on.
The penetration of the palace had been easy enough, the old tunnels leading to the palace opening to the ancient commands. It had been a minor shock to find Kallindra waiting in his old study, but in hindsight hardly surprising, the Queen had never been a fool. Foolhardily brave perhaps, but no fool.
A whimper from the little girl on his back brought his attention back to the present.
"It's alright little one, almost there", he murmured encouragingly.
Things had officially gone from bad to worse Cera decided. Quarter of an hour had passed since the Varanites had nleashed the Hell-ball and there was still no sigh of Ba-Jiricek or the rest of his squad. Aleric was still hanging in there, but unless something was done soon another Harper would be out of the war permanently. To top it all, it looked like the troops in the plaza where about to start a house to house search.
"Screw this", she said standing abruptly. "Droin, Kathis, you're coming with me. The rest of you, get Aleric out of here, we'll meet you at the hall".
For a wonder no one saw fit to gainsay her as she knelt and let herself drop into the sewers.
The Varanite scouts had come out of nowhere, Sha' had gone down without even a murmur. Kale and Jesum where giving a good accounting for themselves against overwhelming odds, but the water and necessity of keeping the assassins away from Ba-Jiricek and his burden was hampering them. The Varanites knew it.
If things weren't bad enough they were being forced to retreat in the wrong direction. Every moment was seeing them pushed further away from their destination. Ba-Jiricek knew it could only be a matter of time before another group of assassins managed to find an entrance that would let them get behind him, leaving him and his men caught in a pincher. Not for the first time, he wondered if his mother was right about potato farming.
The distinctive sound of steel on steel echoed down the tunnel. Cera held up a warning hand and slid a knife from her wrist sheath. The magical hoods the three Harpers wore conveyed a magical ability to see in almost pitch-black darkness. Safer than a light charm or torch, although things tended to appear in shades of grey and lacking in depth.
At her gesture Droin and Kathis ghosted past her, their martial skills and stealth far superior to hers. Rounding a corner they stepped into a slaughter house. Dead and dying Varanites floated in the water while a knot of living Assassins fought a desperate battle against the slowly retreating Harpers.
Cera cursed as she spotted more Varanites troops wading towards the melee from a side tunnel, many of them with bows.
So much for subtlety she decided. With a nod she sent Droin and Kathis charging towards the melee and turned to face the Varanite reinforcements, flames already beginning to lick about her fingers.
The Varanites reinforcements never knew what hit them as a ball of roaring flame suddenly rolled down the corridor towards them, the front ranks immolating instantly. Breathing out Cera sent a cloud of noxious gas following the flames down the tunnel. The fumes hid the soldiers, but did nothing to silence their cries as they died choking in their dozens.
The remaining scouts, caught between the two groups of Harpers, suddenly found that it was now they that were lacking in options. The four seasoned warriors made short and bloody work of them.
Cera waded through the bloody water to stand before Ba-Jiricek. The Harper Lord's face was stern, his grey eyes flinty.
"This isn't part of the plan" he rasped.
Cera considered his face for a moment. "Do we really have time for this?" she asked.
Ba-Jiricek's face broke into a warm grin. "Not really," he conceded, "Well timed and well done. I trust you have a new plan and aren't just improvising?"
Cera smiled back smugly, "We'll use the portal in the Harper hall, I've sent the rest of the troop to secure it."
A small dishevelled face peered at her over Ba-Jiricek's shoulder.
Cera inclined her head to the blond child, "Highness."
My dear daughter, he read.
I have decided to make one last journey rather than sit here and sink into senility. I have arranged for a quantity of gold to be made available to you and the girls so you are well provided for, I have no further use for it.
I have decided to present myself to the Queen and ask if she will accept me as a court historian, I fancy that I have some small talent in this field. I hope to convince her to let me tell the story of how she came to power. I know many of her subjects are curious about what happened to her following, the fall of Dasar and the death of her sainted mother Queen Kallindra.
I remain your loving father,
Severin Holderanson
Scout of Dasaria
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The riders sat on a windswept hill overlooking the distant battle.
The battle had been raging for four bloody days with neither attacker or defender giving any quarter. The Varanite General, Duke Kanista, had shown an alarming willingness to spend the lives of his men as he rdered
assault after assault, day and night, against the city walls. It was a brutal but effective strategy.
Smoke from burning buildings within the city walls hazed the air, making it difficult to follow the orderly movement of the Varanite troops still in the field. Periodically a bright flash or the distant crash of thunder would announce that there were mages and clerics on both sides of the battle still in the fight, although only the strongest were left now.
In the early hours of the morning the outer walls, undermined by sorcery, had finally fallen to the constant bombardment of the Varanite trebuchets. The defenders had rushed to fill the gap with their bodies and steel, but against the fresh reserve Varanite troops Kanista was funnelling into the breach it was painfully obvious to the watchers that it would only be a matter of time before the outer wall was taken. Stirring restlessly, one of the hooded riders addressed the tall craggy faced man to her left. Her voice shook with suppressed anger.
"My lord, is there nothing we can do?"
Ba-Jiricek turned from the unfolding catastrophe below him, his face weary, eyes bloodshot. His little troop had covered a great distance at a punishing pace in the last week and it showed on all their faces. Even so, he could sense them steeling themselves for greater efforts, should he give the word.
"What would you have us do child? We are but twenty", he looked back towards the battlefield, "and they are beyond counting. No, Dasar will fall, whether we throw our lives away in an act of foolish bravado or not."
The woman stiffened as she had been rebuked. Inwardly Ba-Jiricek sighed and held up a mollifying hand.
"Cera, your compassion is to be admired. But, "he extended his index finger to punctuate his statement", if we are to see Varana repulsed from these shores you must not become distracted by the minutia of events.
Dasar will fall. We have known it for sometime, as has the Queen. It is too great a prize, too great a rallying symbol, for Varana to ignore."
He let his gaze sweep over the rest of his companions and raised his voice to address them.
"You all know why we are here today. For the kingdom to survive it is vital that the royal line is not extinguished, Siril's heirs must be preserved. You all know your tasks and what we are fighting for", he let his gaze linger on Cera for a moment, "Do not allow yourselves to become distracted in the chaos below."
Drawing himself up he touched his heels to the flank of his steed and began to carefully make his way down the hill. Behind him the rest of the troop fell into military formation, the insignia of the Varanite third legion, forth auxiliary, fluttering into the air above them.
The sun was sinking into a blood red western sky as Cera peered out through the shutters of a window towards the palace. Her borrowed Varanite uniform had been left behind once they had penetrated the enemy lines and she was once again dressed in her comfortable scout leathers. The troop had entered the dying city with the Varanites as the outer wall finally fell. Just another squad of invaders setting about looting the city of anything of value.
Varanites, Dasarian troops, and civilians had all clashed in running battles through the city streets, making it relatively easy for the small team to reach the unremarkable baker's shop on the edge of the great plaza before the palace. Within a secret trapdoor in the cellar allowed easy access to the city sewers and their associated hidden passages.
Now, some hours later she, along with the rest of the troop, waited for Ba-Jiricek and his companions to return with the prize that had them risking so much.
The Varanites had already tried an assault against the place gates. Ceris had been pleased to see it had been easily repulsed, the brave defenders rallied by the distinctive figure of the Queen in her shining plate armour. The Varanites had eventually withdrawn across the plaza, leaving their dead behind them
Now Cera was watching the purposeful movements of the Varanite enchanters and war priests in the plaza below. The scrying wards in the walls of the shop would protect the Harpers from all but the most powerful divinational magic, but she had always believed it never hurt to keep a physical eye on what was going on around her.
Try as she might she couldn't fathom what ritual was being performed below, and that had begun to worry her. Whatever was going on however, it was obvious that it was moving towards a climax as the casters formed up around a Varanite war altar.
She glanced over to Aleric who was crouched beside her, his face was calm, if a little pale. She twitched her head back towards the stairs, he nodded before slowly easing his way back from the window and padding down the stairs.
Over the palace dark clouds were beginning to gather ominously, Cera grimaced at the sudden taste of tin in her mouth.
"What is it?"
She jumped, such had been her concentration on the scene unfolding below she hadn't heard Aleric had returning with Joni, the senior scout.
"I'm not sure", she admitted, gesturing him to the window, "but whatever it is, it's going to happen soon".
As she turned back to the window a blinding flash and concussive roar rocked the building.
Shaking her head to clear it, Cera pulled herself to her feet and staggered back to the window. One of the shutters was missing, obviously blasted to splinters. Out in the plaza searing flames roared from the palace, their unholy light burning into her irises. Cera gave a horrified moan as she realised too late exactly what the Varanites had done.
With hands shaking from shock she began to try and re-establish her defensive spells, they had without exception crumpled like tissue paper as the Varanites had called the Hell-ball into existence.
As she fumbled the gestures for a simple magical shield for the second time a bubbling moan from behind her caused her to turn and she discovered just where the missing shutter had gone.
A quick glance at Joni suggested he'd not be getting up again, splinters of wood had removed most of his head. Aleric was still breathing, although if the shard of window frame in his chest wasn't removed this would probably soon change.
Cera staggered over to him and dropped to her knees, pulling out a potion as she did so. As she worked her thumbnail into the wax that sealed the vial, Aleric's eye's opened. She tried to give him an encouraging smile.
His eyes met hers desperately as he forced himself to choke out the words, "Wards... are... down."
Cera stopped and concentrated. He was right. In addition to her own defensive spells the concealing wards of the building had been blasted out of existence. Casting any greater spell, or calling on the healing powers of one of the gods, would be like sending up a beacon for any Varanite diviner in the area.
Aleric managed a crooked grin, "Probably best...if you wait for the boss before...using that darlin'", the effort left him wheezing and with a bloody froth of bubbles at his lips.
Cera gave his hand a quick squeeze and nodded her understanding.
"I'll be right back", she whispered, "don't go anywhere"
Lurching to her feet she stumbled to the stairs and clattered to the lower floor.
Downstairs the devastation was less severe, the kitchen protected by walls of the shop in front. The rest of the troop was already dusting temselves off, faces grim but determined.
"Joni's dead, Aleric's looking bad, and the wards are down", she reported, "I need a hand getting him down the stairs".
Ba-Jiricek splashed down the tunnel at a lurching run, sweat dripping from his forehead. The weight of the little girl on his back and the hip deep water had him wheezing for breath, of all the stupid times for an Endurance spell to fail.
"Be thankful that you have your life old man", he reminded himself. They had been lucky to leave at the moment they did, poor Gerswha, guarding their rear, had been caught in a wash of Varanite hellfire. Ba-Jiricek doubted he'd ever forget the sight.
"Sha', how are we doing?" he gasped.
The slight man in black carrying a long sword ahead of him paused to call back, "Three more junctions boss, almost there!"
Ba-Jiricek tucked his chin in and lumbered on.
The penetration of the palace had been easy enough, the old tunnels leading to the palace opening to the ancient commands. It had been a minor shock to find Kallindra waiting in his old study, but in hindsight hardly surprising, the Queen had never been a fool. Foolhardily brave perhaps, but no fool.
A whimper from the little girl on his back brought his attention back to the present.
"It's alright little one, almost there", he murmured encouragingly.
Things had officially gone from bad to worse Cera decided. Quarter of an hour had passed since the Varanites had nleashed the Hell-ball and there was still no sigh of Ba-Jiricek or the rest of his squad. Aleric was still hanging in there, but unless something was done soon another Harper would be out of the war permanently. To top it all, it looked like the troops in the plaza where about to start a house to house search.
"Screw this", she said standing abruptly. "Droin, Kathis, you're coming with me. The rest of you, get Aleric out of here, we'll meet you at the hall".
For a wonder no one saw fit to gainsay her as she knelt and let herself drop into the sewers.
The Varanite scouts had come out of nowhere, Sha' had gone down without even a murmur. Kale and Jesum where giving a good accounting for themselves against overwhelming odds, but the water and necessity of keeping the assassins away from Ba-Jiricek and his burden was hampering them. The Varanites knew it.
If things weren't bad enough they were being forced to retreat in the wrong direction. Every moment was seeing them pushed further away from their destination. Ba-Jiricek knew it could only be a matter of time before another group of assassins managed to find an entrance that would let them get behind him, leaving him and his men caught in a pincher. Not for the first time, he wondered if his mother was right about potato farming.
The distinctive sound of steel on steel echoed down the tunnel. Cera held up a warning hand and slid a knife from her wrist sheath. The magical hoods the three Harpers wore conveyed a magical ability to see in almost pitch-black darkness. Safer than a light charm or torch, although things tended to appear in shades of grey and lacking in depth.
At her gesture Droin and Kathis ghosted past her, their martial skills and stealth far superior to hers. Rounding a corner they stepped into a slaughter house. Dead and dying Varanites floated in the water while a knot of living Assassins fought a desperate battle against the slowly retreating Harpers.
Cera cursed as she spotted more Varanites troops wading towards the melee from a side tunnel, many of them with bows.
So much for subtlety she decided. With a nod she sent Droin and Kathis charging towards the melee and turned to face the Varanite reinforcements, flames already beginning to lick about her fingers.
The Varanites reinforcements never knew what hit them as a ball of roaring flame suddenly rolled down the corridor towards them, the front ranks immolating instantly. Breathing out Cera sent a cloud of noxious gas following the flames down the tunnel. The fumes hid the soldiers, but did nothing to silence their cries as they died choking in their dozens.
The remaining scouts, caught between the two groups of Harpers, suddenly found that it was now they that were lacking in options. The four seasoned warriors made short and bloody work of them.
Cera waded through the bloody water to stand before Ba-Jiricek. The Harper Lord's face was stern, his grey eyes flinty.
"This isn't part of the plan" he rasped.
Cera considered his face for a moment. "Do we really have time for this?" she asked.
Ba-Jiricek's face broke into a warm grin. "Not really," he conceded, "Well timed and well done. I trust you have a new plan and aren't just improvising?"
Cera smiled back smugly, "We'll use the portal in the Harper hall, I've sent the rest of the troop to secure it."
A small dishevelled face peered at her over Ba-Jiricek's shoulder.
Cera inclined her head to the blond child, "Highness."
Last edited by Harper on Wed Sep 15, 2004 4:28 am, edited 1 time in total.
The old man staggered his way to the top of the slope, sweat streaming from his forehead. In his right hand a wickedly curved battleaxe showed signs of recent use. Wheezing he struggled for breath, cursing the nostalgia that had tempted him to try to take the old road from Solace to Dasar.
The excited howls of the Gnoll hunters behind him spurred him back into motion. Ahead of him a thick band forest promised temporary sanctuary from the arrows that were occasionally whizzing past him. Either the hunters were very bad shots or they were in no hurry to finish their sport. Severin had a sinking feeling he knew which answer was the correct one...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The brilliant missiles streaked unerringly down the tunnel to take the lead Varanite in the chest. Mundane armour provided no defence against the potent arcane energy; he pitched forward into the water with gurgling cry. Behind him the remainder of the pursuing Varanites flattened themselves against the wall of the tunnel, an assortment of wands and missile weapons aimed down the dark tunnel.
Cera ducked back around the corner and sloshed down the tunnel as fast as she could wade. Beside her, Droin cast nervous glances over his shoulder.
"They're waiting less each time before coming on" he announced worriedly.
"I know," Cera's voice was grim, "and once this wand is discharged I'll have nothing left to discourage them that isn't at least as dangerous to us as it is to them"
Droin's expression hardened, "How many charges are left?" he asked.
"Five, or six" Cera replied evasively.
A cry from behind them announced that the Varanites had got up the nerve to advance again. The two Harpers quickly ducked down a side tunnel as a vicious hail of arrows slashed through the air behind them, clattering off the tunnel walls.
"They're getting closer, " Droin announced needlessly. He absently scattered a double handful of caltrops over his shoulder as they retreated down a slippery tributary.
Cera grunted her agreement.
"Almost past time to finish this game I think" she announced grimly.
Droin's answering grin betrayed equal parts of relief and amusement. Panting the two companions made a number of quick turns down side tunnels before stopping. A howl of agony from back the way they had came suggested that someone had found the caltrops the easy way; Droin allowed himself another grin.
While Droin covered the entrance with drawn sword Cera mentally composed herself. When she was ready, she lightly touched Droin on the shoulder.
"See you at the Hall," she whispered as the burly Harper faded from view.
Turning her attention to herself Cera repeated the spell and faded from sight.
The ancient metal of the grate came loose with a distressingly loud grinding noise. Jesum looked down for a moment at his captain apologetically, then with a grunt he returned his attention to the task at hand and began to slide the heavy weight to the side of the opening.
Below him Ba-Jiricek resisted the urge to curse. If there was ever a time for a silence spell this was probably it, but with Ceris back, hopefully, raising merry hell with the pursuing Varanites, magic was in short supply.
Jesum dropped back down into the sewer tunnel and moved back to join the rest of the group.
"So, who gets to risk their head" he asked with a sour grin.
The four remaining Harpers looked at each other uncomfortably for long moments, finally the dark haired Kathis loosened his blade.
"Best I go," he announced in his thick Durace accent.
Ba-Jiricek gazed at Kathis, then nodded once curtly; As one of the finest Weaponmasters in the history of the Harpers, Kathis alone stood a change of holding the trapdoor, should it prove necessary.
Both Kale and Jesum came forward to clasp forearms with Kathis and murmur the traditional farewells.
Kathis moved to beneath the opening, sword and elbows pulled in tight against his chest. While Kale steadied Kathis by holding his belt, Jesum formed a cradle with his hands. Kathis set a foot into it. Then, with a nod to Jesum, he was suddenly catapulted up through the opening.
The excited howls of the Gnoll hunters behind him spurred him back into motion. Ahead of him a thick band forest promised temporary sanctuary from the arrows that were occasionally whizzing past him. Either the hunters were very bad shots or they were in no hurry to finish their sport. Severin had a sinking feeling he knew which answer was the correct one...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The brilliant missiles streaked unerringly down the tunnel to take the lead Varanite in the chest. Mundane armour provided no defence against the potent arcane energy; he pitched forward into the water with gurgling cry. Behind him the remainder of the pursuing Varanites flattened themselves against the wall of the tunnel, an assortment of wands and missile weapons aimed down the dark tunnel.
Cera ducked back around the corner and sloshed down the tunnel as fast as she could wade. Beside her, Droin cast nervous glances over his shoulder.
"They're waiting less each time before coming on" he announced worriedly.
"I know," Cera's voice was grim, "and once this wand is discharged I'll have nothing left to discourage them that isn't at least as dangerous to us as it is to them"
Droin's expression hardened, "How many charges are left?" he asked.
"Five, or six" Cera replied evasively.
A cry from behind them announced that the Varanites had got up the nerve to advance again. The two Harpers quickly ducked down a side tunnel as a vicious hail of arrows slashed through the air behind them, clattering off the tunnel walls.
"They're getting closer, " Droin announced needlessly. He absently scattered a double handful of caltrops over his shoulder as they retreated down a slippery tributary.
Cera grunted her agreement.
"Almost past time to finish this game I think" she announced grimly.
Droin's answering grin betrayed equal parts of relief and amusement. Panting the two companions made a number of quick turns down side tunnels before stopping. A howl of agony from back the way they had came suggested that someone had found the caltrops the easy way; Droin allowed himself another grin.
While Droin covered the entrance with drawn sword Cera mentally composed herself. When she was ready, she lightly touched Droin on the shoulder.
"See you at the Hall," she whispered as the burly Harper faded from view.
Turning her attention to herself Cera repeated the spell and faded from sight.
The ancient metal of the grate came loose with a distressingly loud grinding noise. Jesum looked down for a moment at his captain apologetically, then with a grunt he returned his attention to the task at hand and began to slide the heavy weight to the side of the opening.
Below him Ba-Jiricek resisted the urge to curse. If there was ever a time for a silence spell this was probably it, but with Ceris back, hopefully, raising merry hell with the pursuing Varanites, magic was in short supply.
Jesum dropped back down into the sewer tunnel and moved back to join the rest of the group.
"So, who gets to risk their head" he asked with a sour grin.
The four remaining Harpers looked at each other uncomfortably for long moments, finally the dark haired Kathis loosened his blade.
"Best I go," he announced in his thick Durace accent.
Ba-Jiricek gazed at Kathis, then nodded once curtly; As one of the finest Weaponmasters in the history of the Harpers, Kathis alone stood a change of holding the trapdoor, should it prove necessary.
Both Kale and Jesum came forward to clasp forearms with Kathis and murmur the traditional farewells.
Kathis moved to beneath the opening, sword and elbows pulled in tight against his chest. While Kale steadied Kathis by holding his belt, Jesum formed a cradle with his hands. Kathis set a foot into it. Then, with a nod to Jesum, he was suddenly catapulted up through the opening.
Last edited by Harper on Wed Sep 15, 2004 4:32 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Ramblinwomble
- Dasarian Hero
- Posts: 612
- Joined: Sat May 10, 2003 4:52 pm
Duke Kanista, High Commander of the Fourth Varanite Expeditionary Force and second cousin to the Emperor, picked his way carefully through the rumble. Trailing aides, he picked his way carefully up the stairs to the parapet of the outer defensive wall.
The Hellfire had done it's work well, burning the living to ash but leaving the inanimate intact, if a little tainted by the essence of the infernal flames that had licked about them. His war wizards told him that what damage there was to the palace and its surrounds was due to pressures released when they had opened the rift into the prime plane, rather than fire itself. Engineers were already hard at work repairing the damage to the palace gates, preparatory to him moving his base of operations into the fallen capital.
At the top of the stairs he turned and strode along the wall towards a small knot of staff officers. As he drew close they stepped back, snapping to attention. Kanista absently returned their crisp salutes, his attention focused on the metal shell lying on the walkway.
The armour had been made of the finest Dasarian steel, burnished to a mirror shine. Mithril links of chain had protected the joints and other vulnerable areas, while powerful defensive spells protected against arcane threats. It no longer had a mirror finish. The intense heat of the burning body of its previous wearer had blackened and twisted the steel.
In life Queen Kallindra had apparently been a great beauty. In death Kanista couldn't see what the fuss had been about, although it was hard to tell looking at the charred husk.
Turning away he looked out over the plaza that surrounded the palace. Through the smoke of the burning city he could see the purposeful movements of his troops as they began the job of restoring order to the city. Undoubtedly there would be some pockets of resistance, but with Queen Kallindra dead he was confident they would be quickly crushed. His revere finished he turned back to his staff.
"Scatter the ashes, raise the armour above the palace gate on a pike, " he commanded nudging the armour. "I want this hovel secured within the hour. And somebody find me the body of the princess."
Kanista turned back towards the burning city, savouring his victory as his subordinates scattered to do his bidding.
Kathis rose from the opening in a blur of motion, blade flashing. His dark cloak swirled about his body in a complex pattern making it difficult to tell exactly where he stood; small Mithril plates sewn into the lining of the cloak added several pounds of weight to it but they also allowed the cloak to deflect an arrow or blade, the razor sharp blades in its trailing edge were further encouragement to opponents to keep their distance.
When no immediate attack materialised the Weapons-master allowed his body to come to rest. Face calm he turned slowly scanning the room. Satisfied that there were no visible foes he closed his eyes and stood, mouth slightly open, breathing softly. For several minutes he remained so, letting his sense of smell and hearing build up an image of the room. The cool damp air carried the musty taste of a room long forgotten, full of the scents of rotting wood and spreading fungus. The faint lap of water from the sewers below was the only sound he could hear aside from his own calm breathing.
With one more cautious glance about the room he padded softly over to the only apparent exit. If he was surprised to see the heavy door bolted from the inside he gave no sign of it. Instead he crouched down and spent several minutes examining it, all the while being painstakingly careful not to touch it.
Satisfied at last he stood up and gave a low warbling whistle.
The Hellfire had done it's work well, burning the living to ash but leaving the inanimate intact, if a little tainted by the essence of the infernal flames that had licked about them. His war wizards told him that what damage there was to the palace and its surrounds was due to pressures released when they had opened the rift into the prime plane, rather than fire itself. Engineers were already hard at work repairing the damage to the palace gates, preparatory to him moving his base of operations into the fallen capital.
At the top of the stairs he turned and strode along the wall towards a small knot of staff officers. As he drew close they stepped back, snapping to attention. Kanista absently returned their crisp salutes, his attention focused on the metal shell lying on the walkway.
The armour had been made of the finest Dasarian steel, burnished to a mirror shine. Mithril links of chain had protected the joints and other vulnerable areas, while powerful defensive spells protected against arcane threats. It no longer had a mirror finish. The intense heat of the burning body of its previous wearer had blackened and twisted the steel.
In life Queen Kallindra had apparently been a great beauty. In death Kanista couldn't see what the fuss had been about, although it was hard to tell looking at the charred husk.
Turning away he looked out over the plaza that surrounded the palace. Through the smoke of the burning city he could see the purposeful movements of his troops as they began the job of restoring order to the city. Undoubtedly there would be some pockets of resistance, but with Queen Kallindra dead he was confident they would be quickly crushed. His revere finished he turned back to his staff.
"Scatter the ashes, raise the armour above the palace gate on a pike, " he commanded nudging the armour. "I want this hovel secured within the hour. And somebody find me the body of the princess."
Kanista turned back towards the burning city, savouring his victory as his subordinates scattered to do his bidding.
Kathis rose from the opening in a blur of motion, blade flashing. His dark cloak swirled about his body in a complex pattern making it difficult to tell exactly where he stood; small Mithril plates sewn into the lining of the cloak added several pounds of weight to it but they also allowed the cloak to deflect an arrow or blade, the razor sharp blades in its trailing edge were further encouragement to opponents to keep their distance.
When no immediate attack materialised the Weapons-master allowed his body to come to rest. Face calm he turned slowly scanning the room. Satisfied that there were no visible foes he closed his eyes and stood, mouth slightly open, breathing softly. For several minutes he remained so, letting his sense of smell and hearing build up an image of the room. The cool damp air carried the musty taste of a room long forgotten, full of the scents of rotting wood and spreading fungus. The faint lap of water from the sewers below was the only sound he could hear aside from his own calm breathing.
With one more cautious glance about the room he padded softly over to the only apparent exit. If he was surprised to see the heavy door bolted from the inside he gave no sign of it. Instead he crouched down and spent several minutes examining it, all the while being painstakingly careful not to touch it.
Satisfied at last he stood up and gave a low warbling whistle.
With a final ripping of cloth Severin staggered free from the clawing undergrowth. Panting heavily he collapsed against a tree and tried to regain his breath. Each wheezing breath he took sounded shockingly loud, his pulse thundered in his ears. Gazes and abrasions covered his hands and face and now that he had stopped small flies where already buzzing about his face in search of fluid. Behind him he could hear the excited yips of the Gnoll hunting party calling to each out and the crash of breaking branches as they smashed their way after him.
After a long moment he pushed himself away from the tree and glanced about. As he did so he felt hope blossom again in his heart, it seemed that Ki had finally favoured him. His path had brought him out to the edge of a small creek winding through the forest. Although the choking undergrowth grew thickly up to the edge of the cheek, the waterway itself formed a low path through the thick bush.
Without hesitation the old ranger waded into the creek and, crouching low, began to splash along it.
~~~~~~~
The war mage stood at ram rod straight attention. Despite the cool evening air a thin sheen of sweat beaded his upper lip and forehead.
"So", The Duke's voice was glacially calm, "There is absolutely no trace of the Princess within the palace. Tell me Captain, how can this be?"
Cloak flapping in the breeze, the Duke turned back to gaze out over the flame lit city. The mage swallowed nervously, mustering his courage to before replying.
"Speak", the Duke gestured impatiently.
"My Liege, we found her quarters in a state of some disorder. It would seem that the Princess was removed in haste very recently." The mage fought to keep his voice calm and factual, he was well aware now was not a time to display weakness or fear.
"And what does our spy have to say about this?"
The mage's face blanched slightly and he swallowed to moisten a throat sudden gone dry before answering.
"My liege, I regret that the spy was caught in the Hellfire. He is beyond questioning."
"That is... regrettable" the Duke's voice was still calm but the mage flinched perceptibly at the implied rebuke.
Aware that his lord was rapidly running out of patience the mage mustered his courage and trust his hand out.
"My liege we found this on a body near the princesses room."
A blacked and tarnished twist of silvered metal rested in his palm.
Duke Kanista, High Commander of the Fourth Varanite Expeditionary Force, second cousin to the Emperor, turned back from the parapet and paced over to examine the mage's find. As he examined the find a burning rage seemed to blossom in the depths of the Duke's eyes. Now, finally, his icily calm seemed to break.
Through clenched lips the Duke addressed the mage.
"For your sake I trust your brethren are still in place at the Harper's hall, Captain..."
After a long moment he pushed himself away from the tree and glanced about. As he did so he felt hope blossom again in his heart, it seemed that Ki had finally favoured him. His path had brought him out to the edge of a small creek winding through the forest. Although the choking undergrowth grew thickly up to the edge of the cheek, the waterway itself formed a low path through the thick bush.
Without hesitation the old ranger waded into the creek and, crouching low, began to splash along it.
~~~~~~~
The war mage stood at ram rod straight attention. Despite the cool evening air a thin sheen of sweat beaded his upper lip and forehead.
"So", The Duke's voice was glacially calm, "There is absolutely no trace of the Princess within the palace. Tell me Captain, how can this be?"
Cloak flapping in the breeze, the Duke turned back to gaze out over the flame lit city. The mage swallowed nervously, mustering his courage to before replying.
"Speak", the Duke gestured impatiently.
"My Liege, we found her quarters in a state of some disorder. It would seem that the Princess was removed in haste very recently." The mage fought to keep his voice calm and factual, he was well aware now was not a time to display weakness or fear.
"And what does our spy have to say about this?"
The mage's face blanched slightly and he swallowed to moisten a throat sudden gone dry before answering.
"My liege, I regret that the spy was caught in the Hellfire. He is beyond questioning."
"That is... regrettable" the Duke's voice was still calm but the mage flinched perceptibly at the implied rebuke.
Aware that his lord was rapidly running out of patience the mage mustered his courage and trust his hand out.
"My liege we found this on a body near the princesses room."
A blacked and tarnished twist of silvered metal rested in his palm.
Duke Kanista, High Commander of the Fourth Varanite Expeditionary Force, second cousin to the Emperor, turned back from the parapet and paced over to examine the mage's find. As he examined the find a burning rage seemed to blossom in the depths of the Duke's eyes. Now, finally, his icily calm seemed to break.
Through clenched lips the Duke addressed the mage.
"For your sake I trust your brethren are still in place at the Harper's hall, Captain..."