the Gathering Storm
The Never Ending Quest - Episode 20053
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"...the Great Empire was destroyed...How rare a time it was when the
forces of Light and Dark and Grey came together and repulsed each other in
a fruitless exercise of bloodletting...the ShadowWar that has been waged
since the dawn of time...there are pockets of the old evil that remain in
the world...we Geldans are no strangers to the Shreken; to the many
mysteries and horrors that hide and lurk under it's long shadows...from
our earliest records it has been reported as an abode and haven for all
manner of creatures, dark and ancient...and yet it seems a relatively
modern phenomena that those who dare dwell under that accursed range are
plagued with blood chilling nightmares and haunting dreams. Since the
brief era in history when the HighKing Norman united the diverse
bloodlines of what is now Allaria, and indeed brought peace and stability
to the entire Havnheim lands, there have been growing stories of the
mystical, black energy that finds it's source in the cold core of the
mountains and seems to work in subtle and unpredictable ways... it drove
away the last of the dwarves and the orcs who still made their homes there
in the twilight years of their old dominion over the dark underworld of
the Shreken's deep roots...it drove even the bravest and sturdiest of the
peoples in the mountains' shadow to flee their homes and never return to
the highlands...although there are those in these later days who have
become more confident and bold and have established communities in the
foothills and valleys of the lower ranges...the source of the horror is
ageless youth and reckless evil...a serpent, a child...in it's youthful
form, heaven surrounds it and childlike wonder is found in even in the
mundane...and yet hellfire burns in it's heart, misery is the essence of
it's being...few believe the legends, few give any credit to the stories
handed down to us from our ancestors, few have the knowledge necassary to
understand the old books and scrolls. We in Havnheim have lost our history
and our children and their children and the generations after us will
pay...some say it was the HighKing Norman who disturbed this evil...he
came to Tumbar's Road and commanded that it be remade into a highway for
his troops so that he could invade Ryngaerd without troubling the defenses
of the Gap. But then, when construction was only half complete, the great
black serpent came. Norman's armies fled but the High King stood his
ground and fought that demon to a bloody standstill. His men wept bitterly
for their cowardice but their King's heroism filled them with new bravery
and strength of will. They returned to the field of battle and together
with their King they slew the terrible monster, or so they thought. The
HighKing took an amulet from the slain serpent, a relic from the Great
Empire...but the serpent was not dead and with an emerald flame issuing
forth from it's mouth it did
strike terror into the hearts of Norman's forces. They fled, screaming
like
children...the HighKing died there
...his stomach bloated and full of black serpents, his
blood sucked dry...a scroll was lost..." from what is left of the
tattered Diaries of Korsueth, Na'Rider of Gelda Somewhere over the fields of central Stonewall... Lord Frederigo of Suffex:Knight, "DragonSlayer", Liberator of Trescent...Outlaw... The two shrouded horsemen that traveled along the seldom used country trail spurred their steeds on at an almost mad pace. Their destination was the Vale, still some distance away. They had escaped from Trescent, from the clutches of Emry, but for how long?Within the high walled city of Obsallom......there stood Mollari Keep (Also known as Obsallom Castle), the ducal seat of power in Trescent. It's architecture was that of the antiquated Allarian style reminisant of the days of the HighKing Norman. The huge stone blocks that formed the grand structure had been fit together with precision and care; they had stood the test of time and siege again and again. The standard of the House Mollari which had been woven into many an unfurled waving flag and banner atop the tallest towers of the Keep, the shrike vorrant under three sable axes, had been replaced by the King's royal standard; a single lion sejant erect regardant three orichalk crowns. King Emry walked through the central garden within Zular's palace. There were fountains which cast scented waters about in pleasing jets arranged with cunning art. The fountains overflowed into many little streams and lakelets. Over the streams white swans swam along the crystal water, whilst the music of rare birds and exotic insects from the far south sang their wild songs. Another man, with a wide frame and keen eyes, strode through the garden with the King. He was tall and wore the fine and somewhat over elaborate clothing of the nobility. "Rumors and whispers, these things I grow weary of...I need facts, Holm Locke." "And I have returned from the field with nothing less, my leige," the captain replied in a hushed tone. "The reports come from far and wide and as always I will be blunt and honest with you."Emry chuckled. "I think you know which news I would care to hear first, captain." Locke nodded. "I belive your brother was found by the DragonSlayer in the Southern Caves. He is alive somewhere in the west, among the company of a wild southerner. He left the region not long before Frederigo was arrested by Duke Mollari. They may still be on the Toulaine or even further west, although not as far as Gala or the Carpathia...""How do you know this!?" "Reliable Geldan sources m'lord, you know of whom I speak. They have always kept a tight watch on the plain and the two have been spotted by many."Emry shook his head. "And what of Zular, missing in action?" Holm Locke grinned "That is the good news, my liege." He unlatched a large pouch from around his gilded belt and pulled out a mutilated head, severed at the neck. Although hardly recognizable, it definantly looked like Zular Mollari.The LiegeKing burst into laughter. "I wondered what you had in there, you knave! But I do not blame you for prolonging the good news, as I fear everything else you have to report will be ill to my ears. I don't suppose the palantir he was rumored to possess was found?" "Nay, my Leige. It is still unaccounted for.""Where exactly was he found?" "In North Umbria, attempting to enter the Fens of Canmoor. Our informants in L'Porte and Croix Keep cornered and destroyed him. It's long been rumored that Zular has had connections with the assassin guilds within the Fens, which probably explains why he fled there. He had nowhere else to go."~Of course he held an association with those scissored assassins! ~ Emry thought. ~He was the one who provided the fish- poisons and means to apply the poisons to my miserable brother before his ill-fated coronation!~ Holm Locke was the captain of the most feared secret force of police and spies within the bounds of Allaria. While the noble families dueled for power, the need for spies, informants and assassins grew. Especially in the last few years. They were suspicious and jealous of one another and would resort to any means necessary to eliminate any possible threats. Therefore, the practitioners of nonuse were in great demand. With this, the assassins were back in business. The demand for these nefarious individuals went from the highest level of authority to the lowest, from the crown to the minor fieflords and officials of the lesser principalities of the Great Kingdom. The most powerful, organized, and widespread force of this ilk was the Royal Spy Corp. Emry held the numerous duchies and occupied territories under his iron fist of authority using his ruthless secret police and assassins. Holm Locke was one of the most ruthless of them all.He continued relaying his news to the 'King'. "I belive I also know the identity of the southener who aids your brother...Princess Astra of Aqualaria..." "EH!?""Aye, our informants in Stonewall and Hillton have nearly confirmed this. The Lord from Suffex made no attempt to hide their identity in the small mining outpost, even the children of the street knew the Aqualarian by her name. It doesn't seem very probable that an Aqualarian would reveal her name to anyone, but somehow she did. Whether it was by her own doing or perhaps the presumptuous Lord of Suffex's I don't know...although it seems your brother maintained a different profile and made careful to hide his true identity. We know he was there because the DragonSlayer D'Honaire burst into song in the outpost's tavern, there were many eyewitnesses, including our informants and those of the WhiteHand." "She's aiding my brother!? The last thing I need right now is an all out war with Aqualaria! What with Hespan funding and arming the Cogan rebels in the occupied territories and the destruction of Penn! By the Siblings! By Rhom's name! I will reestablish order within my lands or more heads are going to roll!! My father was a fool to let things get to this point; he was weak just like my brother! I will not let the Great Kingdom that my dynasty has worked so long and hard to build crumble from my hands like desert sand!!""But there is something else..." "What?""Some say that the Princess is surrounded by demonic forces that follow her and do her biding..." "BAH! I'll hear none of that rubbish!""Indeed, my Leige, I cannot say for sure whether these reports are 100 percent accurate, but the fact that the reports come from so many a mouth lends it some credibilaty..." "What!? Sightings by the country bumpkins of Hillton and Stonewall!? I think they are nothing else but the frightened tales of men. Even the Dragon of the Southern Caves was more an over great legend of idiots, nothing more than a Lingwyrm and lesser counterpart to the Great Wyrms of seven hundred years ago. The power it was given in death was more than it ever possessed in life..." the King sighed "...we must find Frederigo of Suffex! How he managed to escape is beyond me. We need him alive, he’s no use to us dead. Comb all of Trescent and all roads leading to Suffex and Stonewall. Leave no stone unturned. You've given me enough to think over for now, you are dismissed for the time being..."Homle Locke left, leaving Emry by himself in the garden. He gazed into Zular's lifeless eyes, lifting the demised duke's head to the level of his own. "My poor, poor Zular..." there was a hint of sarcasm,even pity, in his voice. "Where did you go wrong? What evil tormented your lost soul!? I know you were not a madman, but you were a fool! All your schemes and plans have backfired! AND I AM THE ONE LEFT TO PICK UP THE PIECES...!" Events had not been going in the direction Emry desired for quite some time now, actually. After Zular had returned from his (unauthorized) quest to the Dead Sea, he had offered the means to an unholy alliance with a power older than the hills, promising the impossible. Not only that, Zular had offered him a way to take the throne out from under his conniving brother! With the assistance of Zular and a select other few he had, with one fell stroke, killed his father (making it look like a sickness had struck him), killed his brother (framing a chicken bone for the murder), taken the throne of Allaria, and rid the south of the Southern Dragon's pestilence. But things had not been so simple. It was not Zular's fault that events had spiraled out of control. Nor was it Emry's...The heart of a Dragon is complicated and darkly mysterious, serpentine and greedy. The Dragon had been a servant to an older evil, but it's Master had placed too much faith in it's slave. Zular had sedated Cedrik and delivered him and his ancient amulet to the Southern Caves, as he had been told to do in his nightmares. The Dragon had received the prisoner..but Dragons are liars. And good ones, at that. It had kept it's prisoner and the precious treasure he carried to itself, the man and his trinket would make a fine addition to it's collection. And what fun it would have experimenting on the human specimen at a later date! The Dragon had betrayed it's Master, but it had suffered the penalty. It's corpse was decaying under the magical, scorching sun of the northern wastes. Emry, however, knew none of this. Not long after he had been coronated things in the south had taken a turn for the worst. A plague of serpents had begun to spread accross the countryside of Trescent. Rock-trolls in the Shreken, usually reclusive and never venturing beyond the highlands, had began to descend upon the lower regions in larger numbers than had been seen in centuries. He had sent the DragonHunter, Frederigo, to slay the foul wyrm of the Southern Caves; but this had been partly a ploy. The King had been offered an allegiance with the Dragon and it's Master...he had done his part and they had betrayed him. He wanted revenge, of course, but he also wanted that amulet. He had been willing to give it up, but not for nothing. He had sent his spies and assassins to follow the DragonHunter as far as the entrance to the Caves. They had expected him to exit by this same way, and they would have promptly executed him and any companions he had picked up along the way. But Fred (and companions) had taken a secret exit know only to the gnome Chucky. Emry's spies had been able to track Fred as far as Mudspot, but they had been too late. Emry had only recently learned that Fred had been arrested by a group of Zular's Household Knights (disguised as Royal Guardsmen), and that his brother had indeed been found alive within in the caves before he had fled west. Emry was not a paranoid man, but he was close. And every day getting closer. Many hours later, as the day is waning, the two riders approach the first foothills of the Shreken heading towards the Vale region nestled in the dominating rocky ridges. The first rider began to cough and heave. "Do you smell that!?" He exclaimed.The second rider took a deep breath. "It is a most foul smell, almost two smells mixed together. I can place one of them, but can't quite place the other...ah, yes! That smell really brings me back! During my exhaustive training to be a DragonHunter in Caemlyn, we would often exercise near the city slums where there are enormous mountains of dung! 'The Dung Heaps of Caemlyn' are almost a wonder of the world in their size and..." If the first rider hadn't been shrouded, the second one who have seen him cringe. "Enough, please," he interrupted. "I feel like I'm about to vomit already. What is that other horrible smell?"The second rider shook his head. "You've got me, Mayderry. I can't quite place it...but it seems..." "Huh?""I've got it!" The second rider continued as they approached a fork in the road. "I remember smelling something similar during my stay in Mudspot, at the Boar's Head!" "Fred...""Don't say my name so loudly!" "Sorry!" Mayderry whispered. "But look ahead..." Fred gasped. "By the gods!"The horrific scene that greeted them at the crossroads of the Nugget-Mudspot roads took both riders off their guard. They stood there frozen, taking in the horror of the moment. On a ledge overlooking the fork in the road a stake had been set in the ground. Ten heads had been gruesomely thrust upon the pike, they were slashed and gashed open in many places and flies by the thousands buzzed about the spire in a thick black cloud. Fred thought he could make out the features of one of the heads; it was Damian Thatcher! What caught his attention next were the tracks on the road. There were numerous footprints of barefeet...(or were they handprints?) along the road. What struck him most the fact that these "footprints" looked like they had thumbs!A gray mist began to settle around them...
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Ib (With excerpts from ep 7842 (WolfRun) and 10141 (Y)
10/9/2002 12:30:11 PM
Extending Enabled
24936632 episodes viewed since 9/30/2002 1:22:06 PM.