Fall of an Empire

Darklord

Really Really Experienced
Joined
Apr 25, 2001
Posts
489
In our Lords Year of 1185, the Kingdoms of Grymwerth and Anderios are at war. For years now they have been fighting neither side gaining an advantage. Thousands have died and more will soon, but it has also made opportunities for adventerous people to find their fortune their in the un-rest.
One such person was walking down a road towards the town of Lynth, he was not exactly what you would call handsome, but more rougish in appearance. He had chin length brown hair, and at least three day stubble on his face. And a 4 inch long scar running over his right eye from a sword cut many years ago. He wore only a steel becked leather breastplate and vambraces for armor, and a beaten up cloak of green flowed behind him. He had the long ropey muscle of a runner and wrestler, and more scars than one could count on first glance. His name is Folknar.
 
As the person walked towards the town of Lynth the person thought about the war that was happening between the kingdoms of Grymwerth and Anderios. He had come to this place to find his fortune.

He was a tall person at 6'7" and was one of the people that if you looked at him you knew not to fight him. His ice blue eyes moved around, looking at everything as his fingers ran over his chin. It was then that he noticed the group of people coming his way and stopped where he was, his hand going to the hilt of his sword. He watched the riders as they approached and then stopped where he was. One of the riders looked at him and said that this was not the man they were looking for then turned and rode off back towards the town.
 
Squinting after them Folknar once again began walking towards the town. When he reached the outskirts of the town he saw a tavern right at the roadside. "Hmm, might not be a bad place to stop after such a long walk" he thought. Opening up the door he took a look around, then he strode over to the bar. "A pint of your best bar keep" he said. Taking the drink he was given he then surveyed the people he would be sharing the place with....
 
Krista

Sitting back in the corner of the tavern, Krista didn't miss the worrier that had just enered. She never missed much, and made it her buisness to know as much as she could without asking questions. Dressed in a simple leather wrap, decorated with silver studs and buckled at the wirst with a beoard belt. A sword hung on her back, her waist length huney blond hair pulled back in a tight braid. She was small in stature, only 5'2", but she could out fight the best of them.

Sipping her mead, she paid close attention to the new commer.
 
The man looked at the riders as they rode off then moved his sword away from the hilt of his sword and walked towards the town again. As soon as he walked into the town the first thing that he headed for was the tavern as he needed something to drink after such a long walk. He walked into the tavern, uttering a curse as he hit the door frame then looked around the room before walking up to the bar. He placed one hand onto the top of the bar, "Can I have a mug of ale. I need something to get all of this dust out of my mouth."

The bar keep looked up at the man and smiled before he turned back to another customer. The man then looked around the room, seeing if there was anyone interesting in there; the first person he noticed was the man that was standing near him with the scar running down the side of his face.
 
Bolbar

The door creaked open again. Several heads turned to stare at the tall figure that walked in, then angry mutters broke out as they watched him move to a table near the wall. At first glance he seemed easy enough to dislike. Long coarse hair hung like a shaggy black mop from the misshapen head, and the eyes were sunk deeply under his single brow. The nose was flattened, and twin points of tusks jutted up from his lips. He wore old stained leather armor, and his boots looked like they were once combat issue. The spiked mace that hung from his wide belt only added to the uneasy menace of some of the other patrons. But his bowed head hid what might have been seen at a second glance, the soft blue eyes that scanned the room cautiously from under his hair as he waited for the serving maid. She brought a mug over without being asked, and with a sour expression picked up the coin he had laid on the table.

"Fargin' half-breed," a young tough at the bar grumbled loudly. "I'm gettin' sick'a seein' that turncoat in here. Hey Roscoe, why d'ya let that...thing in here anyway?"

The bartender spit into a mug and wiped it out, replacing it on the rack behind him. "Ah come on, Gurgon, let him be. Bolbar pays with the same coin as the rest of ye. Besides," he said with a grin, "a puss like his makes even you look good to the ladies." Several others nearby laughed at this, and Gurgon threw Roscoe a dirty look, then laughed also. He turned to look at Bolbar again, then caught sight of the single woman in the corner. He straightened up and flashed what he must have thought was a dazzling smile.
 
"Damn, he's a fricking big one...." Folknar thought as he looked at the figure of Bolbar. "Bet you he's great in a fight though.." Moving away from the bar he walked over to table that barely took the weight of Bolbar on it and sat down. "Greetings" he said as he set his mug dwon in front of him. Taking a seat he yelled at the bar keep to get another round for his new table companion. "So, you are known as Bolbar, and from the looks of it, one of your parents was an ogre weren't they?" shaking his head to forstall him, Folknar continued "Don't worry, I don't care about things like that, what I do care about though is making some money. And I may have a business opportunity for you...." Reaching over Folknar grabbed a passing bar maid and ordered another ale. "But, before we talk business, let me tell you some things about myself. My name is Folknar, I once served in the capacity of a ranger, at least till I lost my left hand that is. A little hard to hold a bow when you have only a foot and a half of steel blade for a hand. Anyway, I was encouraged to leave the service of the King, and decided to find my own fortunes in this world, and you look like a person who is too...."
 
Randel

Randel looked at the newcomer and thought that he would be good in a fight although he had a look to him that Randel didn't like. He stood there and watched the newcomer with interest and wondered if he was going to do anything. He reached out with his senses and the first thing that he got was that there was no evil in the newcomer and that he could be trusted.
 
Bolbar

Bolbar stared out of the corner of his eye as the strange man spoke to him. Nobody ever came over to talk with him, not here, and now this one was chattering away like an old friend. He'd guessed rightly about the ogre part, no one could really make that mistake. At the mention of Folknar's arm, he glanced down with surprise. Now that was unusual.

Folknar paused as an ale was placed in front of him, and Bolbar cleared his throat. "Fortune hard to find," he said softly, his voice deep enough to rumble through the table. "Not in this town. King's army promised fortune. But not for Bolbar."

Gurgon let his eyes wander up and down the woman's form, and kept his eyes on her as he said, "Don't waste yer time w'that one, friend. He ain't got no money worth takin', and sure couldn't be trusted in a fight." His other cronies laughed again, turning their backs to the bar to stare at Bolbar's table. Confident that he was impressing the woman, Gurgon looked at Folknar. "Best be careful, friend. That half-breed betrayed his troop at the Anskio Ridge battle. Whole group was wiped out by ogres 'cept for him. Drummed out'a the army right quick after that. Shoulda hung th' bastard."

Bolbar hunched angrily over his mug but kept silent, his knuckles whitening. No good, he thought, no one believe me anyway. Just finish drink and go.
 
Folknar

"So you fought at the ridge, I heard about the slaughter that occured there. Damn stupid of your captain to charge a horde of Ogres who hold the high ground." said Folknar as he turned back to his table companion. "The fact that your still alive says a couple things about you. One is that you've got a brain and the other is that you can fight if you survived a full ogre horde." Then standing up he turned to the bar in general and placed his right hand on his sword.
"I believe this man to be innocent of all that occured at the Ridge. I swear this on my honor as a Brother of the Order of the Stone, and as a man of integrity. If any disagrees with me, then we shall have to... discuss, your opinions..."
 
Bolbar

Bolbar stared up at Folknar, then looked uncertainly at the others. Gurgon eyed the blade that was Folknar's arm, then forced a laugh. He swaggered to the corner table and sat heavily next to Krista. "Well," he leered at her, "my opinion is that this pretty one doesn't wanna mess up her drinkin' by havin' ta smell that OGRE."

The table cracked as Bolbar slammed the mug down. He looked at Gurgon through his tangled hair. "You got big stupid mouth. It get you in trouble real soon."

Some of the others moaned in mock dismay, but Gurgon just turned to Krista and gently stroked her braid. He whispered loud enough for all to hear, "Don' worry honey, he's jes talkin' big 'cause he ain't got no chance with a lady as cute as you."

Bolbar's eyes flicked to Gurgon's friends. There were six of them, four at the bar and two at a nearby table, all grinning, all carrying weapons. Roscoe was wiping the counter nervously, trying to watch Gurgon, Bolbar, Folknar, and Krista at the same time.
 
Randel looked over a Gurgon and instantly didn't like the look of him as this was the type of person that would cause trouble in this place. He moved closer to one of Gurgon's friends and knew that if trouble was about to start then this person would be a part of it. He then looked over at Bolbar and saw that he was trying to keep calm but he was closing to losing that calm soon.

He then looked at the others of Gurgon's group and knew that they would be no match for Bolbar and the other person at his table. But he knew that he had to do something if trouble was about to start as he wanted nothing to do about it but he would do something to stop it.

He then looked at Krista and saw that she was getting angry at being treated the way that she was. Something was going to happen soon Randel knew, and he knew that he would be right in the middle of it.
 
Folknar

Laughing, Folknar turned toward Gurgon and sneered "Do you really think shes worried about YOU? I think a one armed midget could kick your ass with less effort!" Turning toward one of Gurgon's friends, Jordan, he once again stated "do you think my companion is at fault for the stupidity of his commander? No? Then why do you follow a man nearly as dumb?"

"No... No" stammered the poor fellow as he edged toward the door. As he ran through the door, Folknar drew his sword, enscribed with runes from the halls of the Moutain Dwarves. "Step away from the lady you disgusting pig, or I will carve you into so many pieces your own mother won't know you." He pointed the sword at Gurgon.

"Go ahead dog shit, draw your weapon, just don't come any nearer the lady." Folknar grated as he eyed his table mate as Bolbar stood up and moved the table away from the immediate area. "I think it's time you learned some manners..." Folknar stated as the bar broke into pandemonium....
 
"All right, hold it!"

Everyone looked at Roscoe, who was hunched behind the bar and holding a cocked crossbow. He swung it back and forth, the gleaming razored bolt trembling against the taught bowstring.

"I don't want no trouble in here. First one that starts it is the one I shoot. Take it outside if you're gonna make a mess. "

Gurgon slowly stood, not taking his eyes off of Folknar. "Easy, Roscoe," he said. "But if you wanna take it outside, well sir, I accept your challenge." He half-bowed and swept his hand to the door, indicating that Folknar should go first.

Bolbar stood still, his eyes sweeping the room. That little turd Jordan had run out quick, but the others were slowly spreading out, fingers wandering near their weapons. Krista was looking at Gurgon with disgust, but her body was tensed like a fighter. The quiet stranger at the bar was also watching Gurgon's goons. The half-ogre wondered if he had noticed the quick flick of Gurgon's fingers and the small answering nod from Yundo, his main crony. These young toughs had enjoyed free rein in Lynth since most of the real warriors from town were still battling on the front lines or already dead. He also knew that Jordan wouldn't have gone far. Their main hangout was just down the street, and the rest of the gang was probably there. All of this swept through Bolbar's mind in an instant as Roscoe's words died away. He paused, expecting treachery at any second.
 
Folknar

Looking around the bar Folknar's eyes lit upon the warrior who was slowly edging towards one of Gurgon's toughs. "Excuse me sir" he said to him, "I feel that I and this ruffian have need for a duel. Would you be willing to be our judge for this fight?"

Then turning to the warrioress that Gurgon had been hitting on. Bowing he said "My pardon Lady if this brute has insulted you in any way, and let me thrash him for you."

Looking up slightly he waited too see what happened next...
 
Randel looked at the man with the blade as part of his arm and said, "I will do that. I can judge this little duel of yours and just to make sure that nothing happens to you by anyone else then I will kill the first person that tries in any way to interrupt in this fight."

Everyone looked at him and the first thing that they saw was by the look on his face that he was serious.
 
At Randel's words, Bolbar saw Yundo stop moving with a quick Oh Shit expression. Gurgon looked at Randel again then back at Folknar's arm, and suddenly seemed very uncomfortable. Bolbar began to relax as he saw the wind go out of Gugnar's sails.

That was when twelve angry hoodlums crashed through the door with Jordan at the rear, pointing at Folknar and shouting, "That's him!"

Gurgon realized his chance as soon as they smashed through the door. Whatever he had been thinking disappeared as soon as the situation changed. His gang's entrance was only a momentary distraction, but he knew it was all he had. He dropped to one knee as his fingers found the razor-edged knife and he hurled the poisoned blade at Folknar with all of the strength and skill he could call up, fearing that it was the last chance he would have.

Bolbar had snapped to combat readiness, his army training still kicking in. To his side he saw Gurgon's arm flash forward and he turned to shout a warning, knowing it must be too late...
 
The door creaked open and in walked what people saw as a hooded figure. She stood about 5'9 and people could see the glint of her sword hilt. She walked to a vacant table in the back and sat down. Ordering a drink she quietly observed the room.
 
Folknar

Having turned toward the door at the sound of the hoodlums entering Folknar didn't know that he was in danger. But at the sound of Bobar's bass voice he spun away from him while swirling his cloak to interfere with anything shot at him. The knife once aimed for the middle of his back now only grazed his left shoulder as he spun around.

As Folknar spun away he drew his own sword and began chanting a quick healing spell to stanch the flow of blood seeping from his shoulder. Crouching down behind a table Folknar quickly assesed the situation.

"One stranger in the corner in a hooded cloak, unknown loayalties. Bolbar's charging the bastards who just broke in. The guy who was supposed to be our judge just crushed that guy's head with a chair. And there's the lady whom Gurgon was harrassing going for her weapon, so wheres the fucker?" Folknar thought furiously. "Theres the little shit" he thought as he saw Gurgon trying to force his way to his men around the other people in the bar who were running to get out of the way of the fight about to erupt...
 
He kicked in a section of wall. He was just passing by, but had heard fighting. He leaped at the man with a crossbow, probably the barkeep, and gave him a blow that sent him into the back of the bar. He took the crossbow and snapped it, before drawing his sword and charging at the people who obviously outnumbered the others. "Come to me, ruffians! The Emperor of Taros has arrived, and he shall show you what a true warrior fights like", he shouted. In secret, he winced at the pain in his ass, which he had landed on, when the sorceror opened the dimensional portal and let Lokken fall 15 feet. His sword sunk up to the hilt in one's neck, then cut sideways, leaving half of his neck intact. He turned to see another one charging at him. Lokken's heav plate armor was made of special alloys, and was therefor extroardinarily light, and so, he dodged to the side and brought his sword, it's blade cutting through the man's skull like paper. He ripped the sword free, and then turned to the one crouching behind the table. "I take it you are the just?" he shouted, dodging a knife that was hurled at him. His black cape recieved a small cut as the knife flew through it. His handsome face became shocked. "That was a 500,000 gold cape, asshole", he sputtered. He drew a mace and hurled it, the mace not only smashing the man's head, but also smashing through one of the poorly constructed wooden walls. He thanked Belial that the walls were not reinforced by stone, or he would of broken his leg.
 
Randel looked down at the person that he had hit with the chair and saw that he was obviously dead and wouldn't be a factor in this but there were more people in this fight. He turned around when he heard a blade being slid out of its scabbard and turned, slamming his fist into the face of the surprised person. That person went flying onto the floor and Randel picked up another chair, throwing it straight into a group of their attackers.

As soon as the chair hit the group Randel ran straight at them and started throwing punches left and right, all of them connecting with his would be attackers.
 
Lokken looked at the fighting, unarmed one. "You are the proverbial good-guys, right?" he asked, stabbing a charging maceman through the stomach, then drawing the sword free.
 
Krista

Krista could not believe the way her day was turning out. Why couldn't a girl have a meal and a quiet drink without ending up in the middle of some kind of trouble? She had been warned that she had been born under a blood moon, and that always seemed to be the case around her, blood. Getting to her feet, she picked up her chair and smashed over a mans head, not knowing if she was fighng on the right side or not, but more interested in getting the hell out of there alive and intact.
 
Bolbar

Bolbar was a wrecking machine. He had seen the poisoned knife miss Folknar and bury itself in Jordan's stomach. That one was now twitching on the floor in his death agony, but the half-ogre didn't notice. All he saw was figures facing him with weapons and his beefy arms swung the spiked mace at their bodies. Bones cracked, blood sprayed, angry shouts turned to screams and cries all about him. He was dimly aware that other strangers were fighting the enemy, and a detached part of his mind hoped they wouldn't get in his way. Part of the building seemed to have exploded inwards, but he wasn't in the mindset to wonder why. His body was in control now and the bloodlust was on him. He roared and grabbed the neck of another thug, tossing him into the air and swinging the mace at him as he came down. The broken body crashed against the wall near the cloaked figure in the corner and left a red smear as it slid to the floor. He wasn't concerned with head shots; anyone hit with the mace would be out of commission whether dead or not. This was the same battle rage that had overcome him at Anskio Ridge. That battle had lasted for hours, and when his head cleared he was surrounded by piles of ogre corpses, but the rest of his troop was several hundred yards away where they had been overwhelmed.

Meanwhile, Gurgon had been sliding on his hands and knees towards the door. Everything had gone to hell in the space of a moment, and all he wanted to do was get away from here. Cripes, where had all of these fighters suddenly come from? He crawled to the smashed-in section of wall, and started clambering over the broken wood to get out.
 
Folknar

Folknar registered the comment of the giant warrior who had just crashed through the wall like a battering ram. Seeing Gurgon headed for the busted wall he leapt over the table as he swung his sword and decapitated a thug. "I don't know who you are sir, but we appreciate your aid." he said to the new warrior as he spun away from a wild slash of a tough to cut the hamstrings of a goon sneaking up behind Bolbar.

As he finished speaking he once again caught sight of Gurgon and headed towards him. On the way he parried a sword swing, kicked the man in his balls and drove his blade hand into the man's left eye. Pulling the blade free he ran to the hole in the wall...
 
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