The Bible Of Brandobaris

[Champion_of_brandobaris]

The title of this Book is covered in many artistic, and beautiful drawings upon the edge, as if it was covered in leaves. Within the center of the book cover lies a halfling, with an audacious mustache and mischievous glint in his eye. The halfling is resting again an old gnarled oak, the leaves hanging over him, giving him shade against a noon-day sun. At his side lies a Bright Red, Crisp Apple with a single bite taken out of it. The Rustic surrounding is spoiled by a Large pile of gems at the Halfling's side, but at the same time, the looker might notice, that the halfling doesn't care for their existence, but rather seems to be contented just by napping in the shade of the tree. The Book is Titled,

 The Bible of Brandobaris

By: Joric Featherfall, and any halfling who contributes.

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[it becomes apparent the reader wishes any halflings with a story of their own to add it.] [/I]

[Diagnosis]

Pie[/center

[Blubie]

Who is Brandobaris?
Well, for those who've come to this book for that very answer, it'll surely be provided.
Brandobaris, dear reader, is both a God and a hero of the Hin peoples. He is Yondalla's second son, and by far the boldest and most adventurous of all the gods!
His daring, wit and cunning are matched by few, as will be shown in the stories that will fill the pages of this tome.

Seek excitement and danger wherever your feet take you, for risk-taking leads to life’s greatest rewards. Lust for the thrill, not for the treasure, for greed obscures the true prize of the experience. At the end of the day the halfling with the wildest tale is the most honored in the eyes of the Irrepressible Scamp.

May the Scamp be in your shadow,
Karias Loosebrows,
Hand of Misadventure.[/i]

[Blubie]

Brandobaris and the Djinn
(A children's fable, retold by Hand of Misadventure Karias Loosebrow)

One day Brandobaris was a'walking,
And as he was a'walking he heard a'talking,
A talking from beneath his silent feet,
From someone that wanted to meet!

"Hello," the talking a'said,
And Brandy craned his head,
To see a little red bottle,
Lying amongst the cobble.
"Little one, would you be so kind,
I'd like to come out to unwind,
To take a bit of a walk,
And have a bit of a talk."

So Brandy a'lifted the jar,
Curious by the bizarre,
Talking bottle.
He opened it with a pop,
And as soon as was gone the stop,
There was a Djinn, from the mysterious talking bottle.

"Ah! Free you've made me,
I'll grant you a wish or three.
Anything you want, anything you plea,
Only speak it to me."
And so Brandobaris thought hard,
What could he be wanting?
And it was Tymora's liking.
"A comb that makes one's hair unique!"
And before again he could speak,
There was a comb,
A'sitting in his hand.
But as the comb touched his skin,
His hair a'sploded, boofing out all puffy.

With a soft "hm!" Brandy thought again,
Was this proper and good of the Djinn?
Surely he was in the bottle for a reason.
And the comb wasn't quite pleasing!
"A hug for my brother, dear Djinn!
Urogalan has been so glum again."
And there was a flash,
Sight robbed from poor Brandy,
And when it came back,
He found his brother ready to give him quite a smack!
There in his arms, Urogalan so dour,
Looking quite flummoxed and sour.
Brandy cackled and stepped away,
Urogalan gone at the winds' next sway.

Now surely this Djinn did not have Brandy's intentions at heart,
And was thinking himself quite smart.
So Brandobaris thought harder, and harder, and harder,
And had the bestest plan since a shifty carder!
The Djinn couldn't leave,
If Brandy had wishes left.

"I wish, and I do wish, my good Djinn,
For infinite wishes,
To see you again and again."

The Djinn threw up his arms and cried aloud,
Defeated, he conceded to his bottle and shroud.
And sits now on Brandy's mantle,
The curious old mysterious talking bottle.[/i]

[Blubie]

Brandobaris and the Urn of the Thousand Souls
(A timeless classic, retold by Hand of Misadventure Karias Loosebrows)

Once there was a dark and hateful devil by the name of Thrazmurdos. Thrazmurdos despises all happy life, and sought to destroy it, but he could not yet reach it. However, he could reach the dead, and decided that if he could not hurt what he wanted to, he would be nasty to something else instead.
So he found the Green Fields, and began plucking up poor, innocent Hin souls and plopping them into his urn. He picked up men-souls and woman-souls and boy-souls and girl-souls, he didn't really care what sort of souls he picked up, so long as he got souls!
So fast was he in his soulnapping that he had ten times a hundred of them before any of the Gods could arrive to intervene. And so Thrazmurdos slipped away again, with the urn tucked under his arm.

There was great strife in the Green Fields now, and nobody could decide on what to do. Some of them thought they should march right in and take them back, others thought they should just offer something in trade to have the souls back.
But while everybody scuffled and squabbled, Brandobaris slipped away to the gates of the Hells.
He crept along through the very abyss itself, seeing all sorts of horrors and misfortunes as he went. Even the Scamp felt he didn't want to explore this place, but if he didn't save those souls, nobody would!

And so he pressed on, passing demon and sufferer alike, until he came to the chamber of Thrazmurdos. Silently he snuck, sticking to the wall as he made his way in. He found the devil slumbering, the urn still tucked tightly under his arm.
Brandobaris slipped a box from his ever-full bag of tricks. Slowly, he took the urn in one arm. Ever calm, and thinking of what the devil's expression would be when he woke, Brandobaris cunningly swapped the urn for the box before the sleeping demon could wake, and was gone again in moments.

When Thrazmurdos awoke, he was enraged to find his urn gone. He tore open the box, and roared when he found very erotic chocolates in place of his stolen souls.
With them, a note.

"Dear Thrazzy,
Thank you for the lovely gift!
Love Brandy."[/i]

[Blubie]

Greed and Thrill
(A fable by Hand of Misadventure Karias Loosebrows)

Once, there were two very happy Hin adventurers. One was named Drorry, and one was named Perry. And Drorry had pockets that bulged with wealth, but Perry's coffers were very empty.
When the two met one day, they quickly became friends, and decided that they would set out on an adventure together! Drorry, however, had only sparkly riches in mind, but Perry wanted only to find an exciting challenge.

So the two set out, and soon found a cave inhabited by kobolds. They decided that they would challenge one another. Whoever could sneak through and take their leader's scepter would be the victor.
They shook one another's hands, and set off into the cave, Perry taking the passage left, and Drorry taking the passage right.

Now, each of them came upon snares, as kobolds often set in their lairs. Perry cunningly stepped around them, cut the tripwires and destroyed them, but Drorry decided that he could make a fortune by selling them when he finished! Drorry tried to disassemble them while keeping them intact, but every one of them set off on his fingers, and only his speed alone saved his hands.

They kept along their own respective routes, until each came across napping kobolds! Kobolds are lazy things, you see, and they like to nap often.
Perry tactfully decided to continue along, knowing his goal and thinking it'd be more challenging to avoid them. Drorry, however, had his eyes fixed on their possessions, and thought it better if he stuff his own pockets with even more valuables.
But unfortunately, Drorry eventually nudged one just a bit too hard, and they all awoke without him! He'd surely have been caught in a tough spot, if he didn't have a disappearing tonic with him.

Now, Perry had come to the chamber of the kobold king, who sat mumbling and struggling to read the words of a book much like this one, but all sinister and scaly.
And leaning against the king's throne, Perry saw the scepter.
So Perry crept around, his feet ever quiet, crouched low beside the wall. He made his way behind the king's throne, and silently snatched up the king's scepter. Then he made his way back out again, as silently as he'd come.

But Drorry, however, who'd been delayed by his wanton stealing, came to the throne room much later. And he found that there was no scepter to be seen!

And so, quiet Perry was victorious, and Drorry learned a valuable lesson;
Don't let yourself be distracted by greed![/i]

[Blubie]

The Tale of Rusio Luckystrike
(A story of luck and bravery, by Hand of Misadventure Karias Loosebrows)

Rusio was a young Hin, and he hadn't been an adventurer very long. He wasn't a very good one, either. In fact, it seemed Besheba had taken a particular liking to poor Rusio, but so far his faith in Brandobaris had allowed him to persevere.

Now, Rusio came across a little village, where the people were all so very thin-looking and glum. He asked them,
"Where are all your cows and swine? And why are you all so dour? Surely life cannot be so bad!"
"But it is," they replied, all of them so close to a sigh. "For a dragon steals our food, and he comes back each month! We could so easily breed enough to get by, if only we had some time to do it. We've all been eating cabbage for a month now!"
At this, Rusio gasped!
Nobody likes cabbage.
And so, he swore he would do as he could to stop the dragon from stealing their food (though in truth he honestly just planned to ask it nicely to go away! It's a dragon, after all).

He waited on the hill where it was said to arrive each month, a sling in one hand, a pebble in the other. And when it arrived, so large that he couldn't see all of it at once, and a glittering leaf-green hue of scales, it looked down and chortled at him.
"And what do I owe this little jest, I wonder?" it scoffed, prodding poor little Rusio with a claw.
"I would appreciate it very much if you would let the villagers alone, sir! They have done nothing to warrant your bullying."
"Sir?" the dragon boomed, suddenly enraged. "Sir!? I am a woman-dragon, stupid little insignificant!"
And with a thrust of her wings, she burst to the sky, headed toward the village.

Rusio bit his lip and quickly placed his stone in his sling. He wasn't sure what it would do, but he held faith in his heart that Brandobaris would guide his pebble's flight.
And it flew.
And it struck.
And it stuck.
The pebble had landed right in that dragon's arse, and there it was staying!

Now, as a note, dear reader, dragons are required to expel gas through their anus when they breathe their flames, ice, toxin, whatever it may be that they respectively breathe. And with a stopper there, when that horrible bully of a dragon went to breathe out its poison...

... It exploded!
And dragon meat was had by all.

"Lucky strike, lucky strike!" the villagers chanted when Rusio returned to them. And he liked the thought so much, he made it his new name.

Rusio Luckystrike, the faithful Dragonslayer.

[Champion_of_brandobaris]

The Glade of Vaprak

Upon a time within the sacred land of Lurien, afore the days of yore and lore, there stood a small halfling village, the first of many as halflings began to come the green fields of Lurien to find a new home, and it had a problem.

Not just any problem, but -trolls- -ogres- and deadly more. But upon this halfling village, there laid a heroes heart, Kalidair swiftfoot, the soon to be Divine Champion of Brandobaris, sat beneath in a tree, and ready to do battle with these fiercesome trolls.

As Kalidair swiftfoot wandered these woods, he came upon a ogre that was taller, stronger than any other, and his heart thumped and his fists tightened as his laid eyes upon the fiercesome form of Vaprak, the Demon God of Trolls and Ogres.

Thinking a moment, Kalidair grinned, the heart of misadventure beating within his chest, the feather in his cap ready to fly in the wind, and his fingers nimble, he threw many a pebble to get the ogre-god's attention, and the attention he did garner, Roaring with Rage, and beating his fiercesome club, he chased after Kalidair swiftfoot, going through maze of maze of traps, and swinging branch of trees, Kalidair always stayed a just an arms reach away, a fiercesome grin upon face.

For ten days and nights, this chase was had, league upon league of woods were traveled, enough to put any ranger to shame, finally, the ogre god collasped upon the forest floor, his chest heaving and his eyes tired, but still burning with destructive lust.

Thinking once more, the clever hin challenged the Ogre god to a competition. The Victor would keep the forests and the surrounding area, the loser would claim the mountain. The Ogre God readily agreed without hearing the terms, thinking he would win with ease against this slight and puny hin.

The Competition was simple- you must uproot a single tree, roots and all, without damaging it at all.

Vaprak laughed, and roared with the thought of victory at hand, and proceeded to the largest of trees with the most longest of roots, and heaved upwards, the trolls mighty strength succeeded, but not without damaging the roots and breaking them off. Again, and again he tried, but to no avail, till a glade was formed, without trees.

Kalidair Swiftfoot, that clever hin, merely walked over to the center of this new found grove. And found a sapling, with a single taproot. With a gentle uplifting movement, he removed the tree from the ground. Vaprak, already humiliated, guffawed and shouted in rage, but had to concede to defeat.

So the lands of Lurien was made safe, by the heroics of a single halfling rogue. Not using strength or sword or steel, but by keen halfling wit, and stealthy ways, proving to us, not all battles are won, or heroes are made, by slaying fell beasts.

By: Joric Featherfall.

[Champion_of_brandobaris]

Brandobaris Strikes again!

Once again within the Green Fields, within his hovel home, Brandobaris thought. His thoughts were many, remembering old adventures and pranks, and a successful heist and two, he grinned at the memories as they showered upon him, and he thought, "My dear brother Arvoreen hasn't smiled in awhile, perhaps I ought to visit him."

He grinned at the thought, remembering the last time he visited his grim older brother, when his Aegis sword mysteriously went "missing" The entire green fields were in uproar, and a number of tales were made as he sent his servants to find it, he wondered..."What if his shield went missing?"

Now, Brandobaris knew he could probably get away with stealing his brothers sword, but his shield? Now, he might well be scolded by Mother herself, and spanked! Well, he thought, "The Risks are great, but the thrill will be greater!" And off he went, to his Brothers Grim home at the edge of The Green Fields, his servants standing guard against whatever foes might come.

being the Sneakiest god of them all, even Mask paling in comparison to the Irreprescable Scamp, he easily avoided Arvoreen's vigilant guard (his brother often expects this from our hero) and entered the Shield arm's home.

He moved through the home with ease, for no home in the Green Fields locks its doors (To brandobaris's delight) and found the shield, to bright delight. He took the shield from it's pedestal, and froze, as he sees his brother, arvoreen, entering his home.

Arvoreen rose an eyebrow, then smirked, and spoke, "Dear Brother, don't you know? You never rob the same house twice!!

The End.


By Joric Featherfall.

[Champion_of_brandobaris]

The Union Of Clans, and the Battle of Maugrokk.

There were four dwarves, mighty Dwarves, on an Island.
And with their warriors spirits, they took it upon themselves to end a hideous warlord. a Man who employed all manner of foul creatures. And they took hold of his keep with great victory, but that is only the beginning of this great story

For in this keep, a map was found in a clutches of a long dead gazer
It was a curious thing, clearly a map of the isle, but different.

So the wise dwarves sought counsel of the greatest scholar on the isle, and the old boy looked upon it with great pleasure at the fine map, "What a find, my honorable dwarven friends!" He said.

You see this was no ordinary map, it was a map of great dangers to the halflings, it marked every spot where trouble was to be found, all the way up to the highest mountain on the isle


At the end of the trail, was marked a single dismal word, "Noor". Giant. yet the dwarves were not deterred by this at all, they were spurred on by the very glory that bringing down such a beast would be, but what would they really find? What peril's lurked along the way?

Without concern, the dwarves marched boldly to meet their destiny.

Through the trees, over the hills, and up the mountain, they marched bravely onward, through the wild cats and orcs and the perils of the mountains passes, undeterred by the ferocity or quantity of their foes
Along the way many corpses were found, half eaten, rotten crushed, maimed, and mangled, human adventurers.
None had survived the perilous march.

Further more, and most importantly-- enormous tracks of a creature so enormous that a halfling could stand waist high or lay without touching the indentation of the heel and toes

But of course, the dwarves were not perturbed, for they were the bravest of dwarves, and these perils only urged them forth for the glory that they would claim!

Finally, after a great march and defeating a ferocious band of ogre bandits, the dwarves entered a frigid cave...

Around them dead animals. Even a mighty cave bear lie crushed to death, flopped on his back. A pitiful sight for such a mighty and majestic creature. Yet, I digress.

Upon entering, a hideous goblin, blue tinged with frost and bound ample furs stood watch against the intruding dwarves.
he fled from the mighty dwarves, and the four chased the creature across an icy bridge, but the cunning goblin thought to trap them, and brush them into the frigid waters below!

And the fiend, his plan almost worked quite well, one of the dwarves was otssed into the icey depths!

But what did te dwarves do? Why, what any good dwarf would do at such a surprise. They used their cunning, one of the dwarves lept in to aid the other, and the other two proceeded along to find the treacherous goblin filth

but it was only mere moments before the very earth began to tremble.
And suddenly, there it was! A giant that stood half as high as the ziggurat itself, a monstrosity amongst its own breed, filthy, and abominable!

WHOO DARES TO INTRUDE MY CAVERN! "It belloed from its deep, wretched core."

And the leader of the dwarves, a handsome elder of his people, replied, "I am Kharst of the venerable line of Delzoun! And with me is the might of the union of the clans, and our morndinsamman above! Creature you are great and foul today is the day that you shall die!"

A great battle ensued above, the clash of dwarves against the giant. Time and again it was brought to the brink of death, but it tossed into its great maw powerful potion to evade its death and attack once more with renewed vigor.

Yet, Below the calm and frigid waters, another battle took place worthy of great honors in its own right. Without breath, without words, but of the clashing of ice against metal, the two sunken dwarves battled an enormous creature of ice! hey laid it low, and found their escape to the surface above. As the victoriuos dwarves beneath the waves arose, the battle against the giant named Maugrokk, raged on.

The dwarves were once again unified, and pressed all their collective might against the monstrosity. Yet the cunning beast knew its end would surely come against the face of such power!

It fled, shoving aside a rock that even mighty dragons would struggle to bridge, the dwarves pursued, but they could not pursue lest they be crushed beneath the monsterous stone.

And what did the dwarves do? They were tenacious, unperturbed, by the keen trick of the giant. And It was at this moment, the goblin came out of hiding to witness his master flee in terror.

With brutal efficiency, the truth was purged from the goblins foul lips.

"The- there is another way" he desperately cried , the swords and axes of the dwarves pressing against him mercilessly.
In the i'icy waters, past the creatures below! Y-yes, another w-way!" It sobbed in utter cowardice and terror.

After consultation with the dwarves had swam into it before, they decided that the fearful thing had told the truth. And as they had honorably stated it would be released only with the utterance of truth, they released the wretched creature into the evil mountains to die to whatever horror found it first.

And thus, the dwarves dove into the ice water, fought past yet another icy elemental, and arose into the secret back passage of Maugrokk's lair.

They prayed a prayer to the Morndinsamman above, and hurled themselves against the evil giant once again, utter terror was across its face as the four bore down upon it, swords and axes ablaze.

Cornered in its own filthy home, it threw its club-- more tree than anything really-- mercilessly and tirelessly at the dwarves.

The clash ensued for nearly half an hour, as it crunched glass vials into its bleeding mouth, they spirits within renewing it again and again. and they finally, the final moment of its life had come and it had realized its arrival.


Together, the dwarves brought the beast to the ground, a crash that shook the ice from the walls and the water jumped wildly at the disturbance. As it fel, the leader of the dwarves lept upon the foul creatures breast and drove home his sword into the heart of Maugrokk.


Told by Joric Featherfall
Dictated by Kharzt Delzoun.
All Credit attributed to the Union of Clans.

[Blubie]

Little Anson the Bold,
(A longer tale, by Hand of Misadventure Karias Loosebrows)

Merin Tubblewall was a favored of Cyrrollalee. He had a bum knee, however, and thus wasn't seeking the Promised Home. But he was the owner of a very successful inn on one of the largest trade roads in northern Faerun. And he had a son and a daughter, both of which weren't quite adults yet, named Anson and Blossom.

Mister Tubblewall and his two children were often far too busy serving the vast number of customers to notice things. They didn't notice their dog being taken, nor their cow being killed (though they could easily buy another of both!), and they didn't notice the kobolds that had come to dwell in the nearby cave that Blossom and Anson both liked to explore.

And as they hadn't been noticed, the kobolds found it all too easy to sneak in through the inn window, right to the children's room! And before she could make a sound, Blossom was snatched up and being carried off. Anson woke all too late, only seeing the last scaly kobold carrying his bound and frightened sister.

He didn't quite know what he was doing, but he didn't waste a moment. He sprung up and found his shoes and coat, and then he was out the window as well, following their footprints and the sound of yipping and yapping.
He never lost the trail, as so many kobolds would be easy to follow. They don't think before they place their feet, you see, and they were in a hurry as well! Though when Anson finally reached the cave, they were all inside, and his sister too.

Though he'd always seen the cave as exciting, and hadn't even seen all of it in the years he'd been living in his father's inn, in the dark he found it looked foreboding and ominous. A darker shade of black than the night around him marked the opening. And everything was ridiculously still and quiet now.
For a moment, Anson wanted to turn and go back to his cosy bed, huddle up and forget all that had happened. The cave just seemed too frightening to the young Hin. But he shook his head and sucked in a sharp breath, and forced his legs to carry him forwards.

He remembered the old stories, and crouched down by the wall as he went. His eyes ever open for tripwires, although he could see little in the dark. When he finally did find one, he found it was one of those awful sort that're far too low to creep under, but too high to simply step over. He would have to cut it.
But he hadn't brought anything with him that could cut! Why, he was still in his nightrobe, save for his coat and boots. With a huff, he set his hands in his pockets, his mind hard at work over how to solve his dilemma. But then he felt something smooth and cold. He grasped it and drew it out, and found it was a dagger! Now wherever did he get a dagger?
He reminded himself of where he was, and that he didn't have the time to waste, and carefully held the tripwire with one hand, whilst sawing it with the knife. When it finally gave way, he didn't have time to celebrate, he had his sister to save. And so he crept on, and on, and on through the cave.

And then he came to a fork, with a sleeping kobold guard resting by the wall. Little Anson had never seen a kobold before tonight, and this one's scales were glinting in the firelight. Again, the child felt afraid. But again, he summoned up his courage and drove himself on, reminding himself of his sister's smile.
He managed to get up close right by the kobold's side, and even to press the dagger to the kobold's throat! Though it couldn't be skill; fortunately, this kobold was one that was almost deaf in its sleep. What luck Anson had.

The boy shook the smelly thing 'til it woke, and quickly let it see the dagger beneath its muzzle.
"Um, hello. You all took a girl in here. Could you tell me which way you all dragged her, if it pleases m'lord?"
But the kobold let out a slithery, lizardy chortle. A tiny little Halfling child had a knife to its throat, and he was being polite! What fun. In fact, the kobold found it such fun, that he decided he'd play a game.
"Only liars walk the wrong way, and truthfuls walks the other, the little warm-blood sees. Am I a liar, or am I truthful; the warm-blood needs to know to go the right way, mm?"
A riddle! A mystery, even. Why, Anson thought it could even be an enigma (though he only just learned that word from a wizard at his father's inn a few nights before). He frowned and thought, and struggled and massed up every ounce of cunning in him!
'If I ask him to take me the right way, and he's a liar, I'll end up going the wrong way and probably in a cooking pot! But... If I ask him to take me the way he walks and he's a liar, he'd go the other way. If he's truthful he'll go that way anyway! Aha!'
"Take me the way you walk, please. And, um, if it pleases, do remember I've a knife, so hush up as we walk maybe."

So he walked with the lizard, and they crept down empty corridors and passageways. Where were all the other kobolds? Anson began to wonder if he was going the right way after all, if he'd gotten the riddle wrong.
Then they came to a wide opening, and Anson knew he wasn't wrong after all. He heard yapping and yipping and commotion of all sorts. And when he squinted, he could see a bunch of skinny reptilian bodies all dancing around a fire, their silhouettes shimmering at the light on their scales.
The kobold Anson held captive let out the loudest yip he'd ever heard, and tried to shake the boy away. Anson, being only a child, dropped his dagger and was knocked back. The kobold tried to grab him, but at least the boy was quick, and he slipped out of reach. And then he was running. And running, and running, and running. He could hear the kobolds behind him growing nearer and nearer.
Something was on the floor before him - was that a bootprint? And it was too large to be his. It led right into the wall... Anson, figuring the kobolds had longer legs than he did anyway, dived against the wall!
And he went right through it.
Something snapped shut behind him, and he could hear the kobolds running past. He was safe. When he looked about, he found he'd just jumped into a little den, with a wooden door made to look like the stone wall outside. It was a small room, and he couldn't see anybody inside. So he stood up and left the room; he had his sister to save! Though what luck he found the little chamber - and whose bootprint could that have been?

He slipped back out and found the kobolds had all scurried away, and hurried to where they had been before they could come back! And there, beside the fire, he found his sister bound and gagged. He slipped the moldy sock out of her mouth, and untied her binds.

Now little Anson had his sibling free, but how would they escape?

[Champion_of_brandobaris]

The Story of ThunderStrike

[/U][/B][/FONT]
Told By Torvald The Exile
Written by Joric Featherfall The Storyteller

Dictated but not read

When i arrived here, twas on the day of mine great hunt. A Rite of passage, a warrior wanders from the ice, to the Mountains beyond the Ice Wor. Southerners call them Rhemoraz.

I had found such a beast, Joric. As tall as two horses when it reared, as long as a longboat, white like the mountain ice.

Perhaps it is arrogance that I sought so great a foe, and found mineself bested, dashed to the ground, to be devoured.

I closed mine eyes, and roared a last cry at it, I would not go down it's gullet easily. I would take anything I grasped in reach into it's stomach with me. Darkness closed around me, and I felt it's breath ipon me, then a great light, and warmth settled upon me. I opened mine eyes, and I was here, atop the Ziggurat,

In mine ingnorance, I thought I was in the greying lands, where a warrior finds battle, and new life with every new sunrise.

I ne'er seen greenery such as there is here. Never seen a night that lasted only one night and not weeks to months at a time, understand.

Armed with the knowledge I would be reborn no matter how I fell, I aspired to greater and greater acts of bravery and courage. I sought to make mine name known to Uthgar, so I might feast in his halls.

So it was on the day of the tournament. Held in the grounds not far from the bridge, I entered seeking glory for mineself, and mine name
Twas the day of the Bog War. Thou hath heard the tale?

For another time. On this day, the day of the tournament where stefan Baden became the Wyrmslayer, Did I speak up mine name and mine wish to be tested against the greatest foe they could pit me. And so they did

A giant of such great size, that when he lifted his mighty maul above me, the sun was blotted out.

I did not shy away from the test. No! Not Torvald.

I roared, and lept at it. I smashed at it's knees, it's ribs, its shins. When finally the roots had been dug up, the tree began to topple over.
Twas not finished though, not this titan.

We wrestled, he and I on the ground for a time. Each seeking purchase upon the other.

I met it's size with mine strength. Mine Rage was upon me, and the blood rose within mine eyes and ears, as it pushed, I pushed back harder. Finally, I heard it.

A sound not unlike the ice in the spring thaw. A crack, and another, and another, and another. Soon twas a roar in mine ear, only't was not the roar of cracking ice, but of bone and sinew, and of a pained, terrified giant, knowing only now what follow it had come to at mine hands.

I stood, and held it aloft a moment, and when it seemed all will to fight had left it, I dashed't to the ground at mine feet, and smote it a blow between the eyes that cracked the skull down the middle. The Stains still lay there, upon that field. Though can see them, if thou wish't.

For mine courage and strength, I was gifted mine hammer- Thunder strike. The embodiment of the storm, as is he who wields it.
Ever hath it been the bane of villains in mine hand, So too shall it ever be, for it, and I, See much.

[Champion_of_brandobaris]

The March

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The sun began to set across the Horizon, and I was caught in the middle of a preparation for a March to War.

Kazkiir, Infantryman Belm, infantryman Trannyth, Hoplite Praxes, and myself, were going to March upon the Starwood, to demand the Tribute of the Savage Stargazers for Glory and Conquest, (Myself for a good Story.) We readied our magics, and readied our swords, and set forth from the gates, five men strong.

We marched to the Webbed woods, and our first foe awaited us beyond the webbed trees of spider kind. We felt the ground rumble, spiders began to pour down from the canopy above us, to assail our brave warriors, we hacked them apart, like mites they were before us, the Men of the Armada taking the fore, as I eagerly recorded this tale.

We pressed further into the woods, the Armada slashing apart the incoming spiders, and hacking down the webs of the spiders to impede our progress, the ground rumbled again, and before us, stood a massive, gigantic spider. A Hive Mother.

Without hesitations, the Four Men of Blue and Steel charged, drinking potions of magic, some relying on cold steel alone as they sallied forth against the Gruesume beast, Spiders dropping like flies to honey, to attack us, to devour our lives.

It was no use, they spiders kept dying before us, the The Queen Spider Screeched, and men fell, holding their ears, she spat out frozen wads of Webbing, they were brushed aside by Stygian Strength and resolve. Time and Time again they hacked the beast, I adding my blade to the very end, climbing atop the bulbous end slashing at it, and jumping down as tiny spiderlings began to crawl and bite into my flesh, but it still fought on, it's fangs dripping deadly venom and worse upon the ground.

Time passed, and time slowed for the sake of this battle, and it slowed futher, as the echo of the final death screech of the spider, this glorious, immense, disgusting spider fell before us. The ground shook and trembled, and throughout the forest, there was a keening chitter, as if the spiders themselves mourned the loss of such a queen.

We recovered swiftly, The Men of Blue complimenting there strikes, Kazkiir's Harpoon slaying many Dire Spiders, Belm's Wyvern devouring many spiders. Praxe's spear slaying the beast at last, the Thunderous Spear turning to Lighting, and landing between it's many eyes.  I wrote the story of their glory this night, in the dark grey sky, and the misty rain around us, it was an atmosphere of triumph.

 We marched toward the Starwood, a single white savage stood before us, cowardly, and offered the men of blue and steel many treasures and much gold, for a week, it would do, and at week's end, the Men shall march again, to claim the tribute of the conquered.

This place firmly underfoot, the Men of Blue and Steel gaze inward, further adventure, and greater Glories, await.


By: Joric Featherfall
Thanks to: The Stygian Armada

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