#ST:og

[ohgoddard]

Storyteller.4.

“THERE IS A DOOR IS UP AHEAD! GO!” Armak was shouting as his sword cut down a swath of screaming goblins. They had walked into a horde of horrors, a goblin city hidden from the prying eyes of the surface. The monsters had created a series of carved stone tunnels and cave systems to make for themselves a home. And it was from these very same tunnels that now dozens pour from to assail  Armak and Holly, who were running for their lives. Holly was bruised and bleeding, some deep lacerations striking on her legs and arms. She was busy muttering some arcane language under her breath as she touched the stone walls, vines running along them and catching the legs of the closest goblin foes. “Armak, I cannot walk!” For as much as Holly plays up things, this was no joking matter. Not too long after they descended from the cave mouth in search of a way out, they had been attacked by a goblin rear guard. Although Armak had easily dispatched them, this was not done quickly enough. Holly was jumped by one of the slimy creatures and pinned to the floor, and before she was able to throw it off her the beast had stabbed its daggers into both of Holly’s legs. Now she hobbled in the cave and not for very long, needing rest frequently.

Armak shot a look at Holly and grimaced at her condition, her face looking far more pale than it usually does and her eyes were beginning to close. Armak turned to face his adversaries again, their legs stuck in vines and unable to move, and this is when he made his gambit. He dashed from his defensive hold and grabbed Holly under his arm like a stack of wood. His breakaway gave room for more goblins to spill over their stuck comrades and come assault. Armak was nearing the stone door he was talking of earlier and, in a feat of great speed, threw Holly in before him and quickly closed the heavy door. He was in luck, as there was a bar he could use to prevent the goblins from breaking it down, at least for a small amount of time. After he was certain the door was closed and fastened, the sounds of metal hitting stone outside it’s protective barrier telling him the goblins have not yet ended their attack, Armak surveyed his new surroundings.

The room was bare, save for two braziers and yet another large stone door which rested inbetween them. Holly was resting against one of the braziers, her breathing slowing down from the hyper-ventilating she was performing earlier in the constant fights from the cave entrance to here. Her once well kempt braided hair was now pulled from its keepings, and was now freely resting upon her shoulders in a beautiful display of beauty that was unbecoming of the setting. Her face was covered in dirt and blood, scratches and bruises. Her clothes were torn from goblins attempting to grapple her, and of course, her legs were bleeding from the dagger wounds.

Armak, on the other hand, looked just fine. Holly turned her head towards Armak, and coughed up blood. “How do you look so good still?” Armak approached Holly and sat down next to her, letting out a groan similar to when an old man sits in a large chair. “I have experience. Plus, I need to protect my good looks.” Holly let out a chuckle, but was stopped by more coughing. “Here, let me see.” Armak moved so that Holly’s legs rested across his lap and began to take off his own wraps. “It's not the best, but it is what we have to work with. It should help until we get out of the cave. Then the sun will heal you.” While Armak began to wrap Holly’s legs, she gave him a strange looked that came over her pained expression. “The sun will heal me? Do you think,” she coughs ,”do you think elves are healed by the sun?” Armak finishes the wrapping of Holly’s legs and ties a tight knot. This causes Holly to wince. Armak makes a grimace, as much as one can with a beak.”Sorry. No, I do not believe elves are healed by sunlight alone. However, being in its light has a healing benefit for all.The warmth and whatnot.” Armak carefully laid Holly’s legs to the ground before rising from her side. “I'm not sure where you heard that from, Armak. The sun does no more to heal us than the moon makes the grass grow taller.” Holly attempts to stand, but is halted in her efforts by a stern look from Armak, his amber eyes glowing in the low light. She fell back down and gave a large sigh. “Well what are we going to do now?” Armak turned his head from his elf companion and looked at the stone door that currently was not keeping goblin hordes at bay. It had writing all over it, and one that Armak was not familiar with. “I believe,” he said in his gruff voice, “our escape lies behind this. However, this writing is peculiar.” He gestures to the words that go around the door in an arch. Holly squinted her eyes at the writing, and read aloud. “Speak your story, one who hides most among you, and find your exit revealed.” Armak turned around with a look of surprise on his face, his beak opening a small amount in shock and his feathery eyebrows raised. “Since when could you speak Abyssal?” Holly gave a self satisfied smirk, “I studied ancient peoples and their cultures at my college!” Armak gave a grunt of admiration before turning back to the door. “Now, as to what it means..” Holly reached into her bag, stealing a look at the barred door holding back their would-be killers, and tried to find her book on languages. “Armak, I think it is fairly obvious as to what it mean though. The one among us who has the most to tell should really-”

“No. I refuse to.” Armak had not turned to Holly when he said this, still facing the door. Holly was taken aback. She even recoiled a small mount from him. “Armak, I can try but I think we both know who has to say something.” “I said no.” 

Holly coughed up another spattering of blood, which was concerning because she was stabbed in the legs. She moved her shirt and other coverings to the side and saw something. A nail from one of the goblins that had stabbed her was protruding into his chest, underneath her left breast. 

She gulped, and her face turned pale. Why hadn’t she felt this before now? Perhaps it was just the adrenaline from being stabbed in the legs but she thought..

She reached for the nail and pulled it out, sucking in air in pain the entire time. She did not want to alarm Armak, he was too busy trying to find a way out. As she pulled it out, though, blood began to pour from her wound. Her head began to grow dizzy.

“Armak, please. I.. I don’t think I have long left in this condition.” Armak still did not turn. “Your legs will be fine.” “It's not my legs.” Armak turned at this and saw now a small, growing dot of red appearing on her blue shirt. And in her hand was the nail that caused it. “Holly..what is that?”

Holly’s hands went limp and her body slumped, the nail dropping to the floor as she did.

Armak rushed to her side and picked her up, holding her as she struggled to keep consciousness. “I..think I was hit in my chest.”  Her eyes fluttered shut slowly, and her breathing started to slow.

“Damn it...DAMN IT!” Armak yelled, looking at the door with the writing at it. His eyes were marked with fury and anger. The anger of a man trapped in a corner, forced to do what he hated.

“You want a damn story, door? Fine. Here’s mine.”

And as he began to speak, Holly heard his words in her sleep

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Armak woke up, and knew he shouldn't have been able to. His muscles burned, his arms and legs were seared from fires launched into him, and his wings…

His wings.

Armak, laying face down in the dirt and ash of a battlefield, painfully moved his burned and marked arm to feel his back and felt.. holes. Gouges in his back. Armak screamed, the pain reaching him as he touched where his wings once were, now torn from him by the same enemy that put him to rest. Or, at least, attempted to. He struggled to pick himself up, taking all his strength he had, to see where he was. He had vague memories but nothing concrete. His arms and legs ached with pain, streaks of stinging and burning traveling up and down . His face, for some reason, was saved from the fires that had marked and damaged the rest of his body, a small grace in a graceless situation. However, when Armak stood up full from his dirt bed he had wished his eyes were burned out. 

Fires burned bright and hot on the branches of what once his tribe’s home. Hundreds of bodies litter the ground. Some were dressed similarly to him, bare chested warriors with kilts and long swords laying next to them. Some were modestly dressed in simple clothing, and children among them. All dead. All burnt. All wingless like him. The houses that were stowed away in the trees and looked over the shore where he and his kin would fly and hunt for fish now fell out of their holdings in the branches one by one. They created meteors of fire as they hit the ground, splattering flaming cinders everywhere. Armak was speechless, observing the brutality before him. And then it all hit at once.

It had been a quiet morning, and Armak had been preparing for a hunt along with the rest of the hunters. He was in his home, putting on a hood for the cold, and strapping his weapons to his belt. His long and beautiful white and gold wings were furled behind him. He could hear the sounds of children beginning to wake and play, learning to fly and racing in the air. He could hear the voices of their mothers telling them off for one thing or another before wishing their husband a good day on the hunt. A scent of stew reached his beak and he smiled. It was going to be a nice day.

“TO ARMS! TO ARMS!” A pit sank in his stomach. Armak quickly finished dressing himself and ran outside his home and onto his porch to see what the issue was. He and the other warriors looked down from their branched homes to the beaches and in shock saw several boats were rowing to them. No one was allowed on their land, and all who surrounded them knew this, lest they incur the wrath of flying combatants. No this, this was something else. Armak jumped from his porch and began to fly down to the beaches, sword at the ready. He was joined by his fellow fighters as they dived down at their enemies in the seas. 

It was an utter massacre. 

As the warriors approached the boat and began diving, picking off the rowers one by one, something foul happened. Men in long robes stood at the bow and did a strange dance that Armak had never seen before. It had distracted him but for a second before at the end of the dance a ball of fire shot from their hands in a great arch and flew through the air and landed… in the trees that they used as a home. The men flew back to their homes, but this was anticipated by their attackers. Arrows were shot from previously hidden bows, and had ropes attached to them. Several of these shot through the wings of retreating warriors and were pulled down into the waters where the rowers quickly killed them.

Armak and what was left of his compatriots returned to their homes and started to evacuate everyone. To get them from the trees and to try and escape their assailants. But as they began to fly away… they hit an invisible wall. A dozen or so ran straight into it, falling to the ground several feet in the air. Armak, who was now hovering, put his hand out in front of him and felt a barrier that could not be seen. They were trapped.

What happened next was a blur for Armak, desperately defending his people from slaughter. More of those robed men came and threw more of those fiery balls into their trees. And eventually into the people themselves. Soon, Armak was the only warrior left, defending a group of his tribe by himself. Thirty dead bodies of attackers lay at his feet, Armak using several techniques with his wings to out maneuver them. It was looking as if he was to hold out long enough for them to leave, to save his people when..

One of the attackers in a robe walked calmly onto the battlefield. The bright orange fires only accented his appearance, as well as the others who attacked Armak. A yellow, lizard-esque face with long tendrils hanging from their mouth. This robed figure pointed at Armak and instantly he fell down from the sky, hitting the ground with a heavy thud. He still calmly approached him, and glared down at the warrior. And when he spoke, it was as if the void itself whispered in his ears.

“You use your wings to fight us, you and your people. Now you must walk the dirt like the rest of us. You with your flight prevent us from moving forward with our plans. Now face the consequence of becoming an obstacle. And finally, to address you specifically, oh great and final warrior of your people.”

The man in the robe leant forward as to make himself eye level with Armak on the ground. He sneered into his face.

“You will watch and see the consequences of your failure forever. Forever live with the failure of never being able to protect your people. Forever with the knowledge you could do nothing. To see all you know wither away into forgotten times and lands, and to never again feel the love of another, for they will pass.”

Each word he spoke, Armak could feel a dagger being plunged into his soul, a pain that could not be explained in any physical sense. His very being was being torn. He looked up to the man doing this and uttered one word..”Why?”

“Because you were inconvenient.”

Then all was black.

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“When I awoke, my people were dead. My wings were torn from my back, myself cursed to live forever. Flightless and forced to watch all I know and love fade away while I remain here.”

Holly’s breathing had become shallow during Armak’s story, and she had fallen fully unconscious. The goblins had not given up their assault on the barred door, the sounds of pickaxes being thrown against the edges of the frame now. Armak took a deep breath and looked to the stone door with the inscriptions written into it, and saw that it had not moved.

He gently placed Holly down onto the floor, and calmly stood, before angrily yelling.

“WHY DO YOU REMAIN CLOSED?! HAVE I NOT GIVEN ENOUGH?! DO YOU WISH TO HEAR MORE?! TO HERE HOW I HUNTED DOWN THE MANUSCRIPTS OF ARCUS CIMBER WHEN THE ACROPOLIS WAS JUST A PREP SCHOOL?! HOW I FOUND IN HIS ARCHIVES THAT I CANNOT ESCAPE MY IMMORTALITY?!” 

Tears of anger were pouring down his face.

“HOW I WANT NOTHING MORE THAN TO FINALLY LEAVE THIS WORLD?! TO BE REUNITED WITH ALL MY FAMILY AND FRIENDS I HAVE MET AND BECOME LOVED?! I BEGGED A DJINNI TO END ME AND HE COULD NOT! I WAS DENIED AN END BY A TIEFLING! I WAS TRICKED INTO LIVING BY THE FEY! AND NOW I AM FORCED TO LET YET ANOTHER COMPANION DIE BECAUSE THIS DAMN!” he punches the door “DOOR!” Once again he punches it “IS PICKY TO MY SECRETS!” As he slammed a final fist into the door, he heard a bellowing laugh.

Armak backed away from the door, and as he did so a blue mist began to spew from its edges, forming a ghost standing in front of him. The ghost looked like an orc warrior, who stood with his hands crossed over his chest and a smile over his fanged face. “Why, it just takes a while to open the door, is all. You should count yourself lucky you had your friend there.” He points an ethereal finger at the resting body of Holly. “Had she not heard your story, you’d never leave this room.” Armak’s face turned to shock as he looked at Holly, who had not moved from where he lay.

“Don’t worry, birdman. She is not conscious now. But she knows enough. Count yourself lucky once again, though.” The visage of the orc warrior began to fade. “She seems like a friend worth keeping secrets with.”

As the visage disappeared, the stone door began to shake and soon it fell into the floor. They revealed a staircase traveling up, with sunlight peaking in small rays at the top. Armak wasted no time in rushing to Holly and grabbing her, racing up the stairs. The entire time he heard the laughing of the orc warrior. He didn’t really appreciate it.

Several days later, Holly awoke. Her eyes slowly opened, squinting a small amount in the direct sunlight she found herself exposed to. She slowly attempts to sit up, to gauge her surroundings. A long winding countryside with brilliant green hills and livestock tending to the overgrown grass. A small wooden home with smoke rising from a smokestack was in the distance. Holly looked down at her own body, seeing a new dressing of wraps around her legs, and she could feel them in a small amount again. Around her chest she saw another wrap with metal braces keeping her from really bending over. She could still feel the hole in her chest, but could feel it slowly healing. Maybe the sunlight really is good for elves..

“Good, you're awake.”

Holly turned quickly, which she shouldn’t have really because it caused her a great deal of pain, to face Armak.

He stood against a tree, his hood down revealing his grey and white feathered head. “I cleaned and took care of your wounds for, “ Armak looks up at the position of the sun,” past seven days.” Holly opened her mouth to speak but words failed to come out as she realized something. Wait..all my wounds? 

“Yes, all your wounds” Armak spoke as if he had read her mind. “Don’t worry about it, I poured a medical concoction into it which should be closing it right now.” Holly heard none of this, as the blood was rushing to her ears. Atleast she had not been totally helpless.

Armak began to stretch. “I also had to feed you and such so you would not die. I also-”

“Please don’t say any more.” Holly managed to squeak out. No, it was as she thought. All that effort to try become the independent elf she knew she could be, gone after one stupid dagger to the chest. And legs. And numerous infections. Holly let out an internal sigh, vowing to regain her self confidence once again. However for now..

She slowly moved her body to face Armak, grunting the entire time. Armak stifled a laugh, as he found this hilarious that the usual prim and proper elf is now moving akin to a toddler. “Armak, can you come here.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Why? Do you need help standing up?” “Just come here.”

Armak walked over and knelt down next to Holly, who with surprising speed threw herself into a hug around Armak. He stayed still, unsure of what to do. “Holly?”

“Thank you. You mean a lot to me.” Armak looked down to Holly’s face, which was buried into his bandaged chest.

“Please stop trying to die. Elves live forever too, you know?”

Armak put his arms around Holly, rather awkwardly, but he returned the hug.

“Don’t worry. I gave that up when I met you.”

[ohgoddard]

Storyteller.5.

“When I envisioned the collapse of government, Armak, I did not believe it would be so...literal.”

Crowds of chanting and singing people rush in the streets screaming noises of joy and jubilation as they carry piles of broken wood and stones around. They then proceed to throw them at a large building in the center of the town, the only building that is not teetering precariously in the air and has had any semblance of architectural thought put into it. The town hall of Clearmont was the only solid and immovable rock in the ever shifting town that welcomed the outsiders and weirdos of the land. Its townspeople were currently trying to destroy it.

“I’m quite surprised, Holly. This event is fairly popular in this region. Some people even come here to take part in it! It's quite a big tourism boom.” Armak stood in the middle of a raging torrent of men and women running through the streets, Holly sitting atop a wooden post that could have been a sign in a previous life, now turned into a makeshift clothes rod and poster board. Armak throws a stone at the building, striking it true and breaking a window. The crowd cheers.

He laughs and looks up at Holly, who is sporting a look on her face more incredulous than anything else occurring in the town. “The Earl of Clearmont has been a real asshole for decades,” Armak began to tell Holly,  “A few years into his rule he began to take an annual trip to the Citadel to kick it with the high life’s. So, the townspeople use that same period of time he’s gone to thoroughly trash his house. Its a big festival, there's effigies that are burnt and fair games, oh Holly it's fun only Clearmont could think of!” An explosion resounds behind them and up into the air fireworks explode. 

Holly could only look on in true amazement. “B-but what about the order? This is pure chaos! Such destruction and for what?! Where are the guards?! Why aren’t they stopping anything?!”

Just as she said that, she looked below from her wood post island of safety to see seven men in shining guard armour charge the town hall of clearmont with a large tree trunk, hurling against the door and breaking it.

Armak hollars along with the crowd. “Holly, you need to really relax! Here in Clearmont destruction is just a part of life! I mean, look at this place. It falls apart everyday and is rebuilt the next! Its very structure defies order, so why should its citizens be any different?” Music began to play as the the crowd began to rush to a different square where the festival proper was beginning. The town hall was left abandoned and torn, looking quite pathetic. Armak helped holly down from the post, her grumbling the entire time at being helped. Soon, the two were the only ones left where once a riot was happening. The town hall was utterly annihilated, windows broken and doors smashed. However, its insides were oddly intact and un-looted. And for all intents and purposes its stone walls were untouched. Holly looked around the wrecked square in confusion. “All this and they didn’t even take anything?” Armak looked down at her, an eyebrow raised. “Why would they? How would the Earl pay them to fix the town hall later?”

Holly breathed a deep sigh and massaged her temples, uttering an elf mantra under her breath. “This has got to be the single worst event ever thrown. Nothing could match this. Literally nothing. What's the point of order if this happens on a yearly basis?” Armak gave a small chuckle, then rustled the hair of Holly. She looked at him like an annoyed child. “Holly, the point is to have fun when an asshole isn’t home. Surely that much is still culturally universal even in elf culture.” Holly looked as if she was trying to argue that point, but after a bit of internal struggle just said,” Well… yeah.” Armak smiled. 

“Besides, I’ve been to an event that was faaaar worse than this one. Several actually. A coronation gone wrong, a festival that was being used as a summoning spell for a sex demon, a wedding between an orc and a centaur-”

“A wedding between a what and who now?!” Holly interjected, forgetting all the previous gripes she had with the town’s customs and Armak’s sudden aloofness in a happy environment. Already, subconsciously, she was reaching for her pencil and notebook in her sidebag. Armak noticed this, and he sensed he had to tell a story now or else suffer the consequence of being asked to tell a story later. He sat down , got comfortable, and began to speak. Not even giving Holly a heads up, but then again he didn’t need to. She had already begun writing.

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Armak hated going to events. He hated having to act orderly and dress nice and all this other stuff that was expected when the company of other people who thought themselves important. He hated hearing the problems of the rich, how undercooked their meal was or how their help has been getting slow recently. Especially when, the night before, Armak had slept on the floor outside a lavish party being thrown the celebrate a successful war. Oh how the rich love sending the poor to the their death.

However there is one type of event Armak will attend of his own volition,the other circumstances he attends for a meal or place to stay for a while as a way of cashing in on a favor. Armak will always attend an Orc Celebration. No rules exist at an orc celebration, and very loosely is any itinerary followed. This is what brought Armak to a wedding that was boasted as being one of the biggest events in history. It would unite two of the largest tribes of the west together and create a huge empire spanning the most resourceful regions on the continent. And whats more?

It was between an Orc and a Centaur. 

Armak has always been a fan of disasters and as such decided he needed to be there.

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”And let me tell you, it was a pain finding the palace where it was taking place. I had to go through no less than four mountain passes and a damn desert before I even found a person who told where it was.”

The sky had begun to turn into its evening colors and the mess in the courtyard of the town hall had been cleaned up by clerks who rushed out of the building with brooms and bags to store debris. The crowds still hooped and hollered at the adjacent square, the scents of food wafting over to Armak and Holly. They both turn to face the delicious smell, and Armak begins to sit up. However he is stopped by a ghostly hand, which forces him to sit down once more. He looks up at Holly, who’s eyes are pointed and glaring at Armak in all their emerald green intensity. “No food until the story is done. And don’t let me catch you omitting details because you’re hungry.”

“Holly I am well over hundreds of years old, I will eat when I-” Holly’s glare intensified and Armak shut his mouth. 

“Right, well, I found the palace tucked into the side of a huge cliff…”

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The Palace of the orc being married, one Gunkrunk the Despolier, was a grisly sight. It was carved from the side of the cliff and decorated in sheets of animal pelts and skulls. Spike jutted out from strange places and banners of all sorts of colors flew in varying degrees of tatteredness. The stone walls of the palace were painted int he blood of Gunkrunk’s enemies, and as such had a rusted color. But all that was par for the course of an orc palace. No, the biggest thing about this place, what gave it its own air of importance, was its large cliffside balcony. It was a huge structure, held up by stone pillars forcibly created by wizard slaves Gunkrunk had. It was a marvel of creation, a true wonder of the world. Which meant of course the wedding was being held on it.

The event had attracted hundreds of guests, as Gunkrunk was the head of the orc clans. His wife to be was head of the Centaur clans, which is what made this marriage a big deal.  Everywhere Armak looked he saw mountains of orcs, wrestling, fighting, drinking, and in a strange circumstance holding a slam poetry competition. Elsewhere were the centaurs, who were a more refined people. They were having simple conversation, drinking fine wines, and playing more intellectual games. They were also having a slam poetry competition, but with far less swear words included in their prose.

But while the attendants were a strange batch, separated down the middle on the balcony with Armak sitting amongst it all, something else caught his eye. It was the actual pile of food. Cooked lamb, pig, cow. Pastries of every kind. Roasted vegetables, rice, sweet breads, fish that-

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”You’re only making this harder for yourself.” 

“Holly, I'm so hungry.”

“So am I. Keep this up and we’ll be hungry tomorrow, too.” 

Holly dismisses Armak’s loud groan.

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The orcs proved to be too rowdy to mingle with. It was beyond the usual orc celebration Armak had been too. He saw far too many arms and legs be broken in the wrestling pits, too many orcs being thrown over the sides of the balcony to their deaths, and friendships torn apart at the slam poetry competition. Armak was no stranger to acts of violence or  entanglements with other peoples, but this was too much for him. He did not revel in the pain of others and this was just glorifying that. Just because he could not die doesn’t mean he didn’t feel pain. But on the flipside, the centaurs were not much better. Armak soon found out that they had no idea how high society should work, quickly seeing them as poor folk who simply put on airs. The fine wines they drank were nothing more than grape concentrate, the conversation never evolved beyond common words and compound sentences, and the poetry was worse than the orcs. This had been the single worse event Armak had been too in his life at that point. The only saving grace was the food. And that too was soon destroyed once the dinner gong was rung.

Armak has seen entire towns burnt and peoples killed, but he still says that the ravaging of food he saw there easily ranks high upon his list of the most sinful acts committed by mortals. So there Armak sat, barely fed and immensely tired, and about ready to ditch the whole event when the bride and groom came out onto the balcony. The people cheered and drinks sloshed everywhere as they greeted and yelled at the two coming out. Gunkrunk was dressed in as high society clothing as orcs can muster, which is to say clean rags instead of dirty ones. His bride, though. Armak had to stomach what food he had left in his body when he saw her. She could turn a Roc to stone. Braided into her hair was a long bridal train, which trailed behind her and tripped several orcs over, much to the ridicule of their friends.The two marched down an aisle made by the walls of the two peoples, and soon reached the edge of the balcony. Gunkrunk turned tot he crowds and began to address them. He rambled on and on at the power the families will hold, the riches they will have, and the generations of wellness. Armak did not pay much attention to the speech, as he was focused on something else. Gunkrunk was standing on the bridal train, which was being moved every which way by the swaying of his bride’s tail. It was a mesmerizing movement, but something was erking him.

Gunkrunk then concluded his speech with a toast, calling for a happy and great union for all. The orcs and centaurs raised their drinks and cheered while Gunkrunk went to kiss his wife upon her lips. 

Except when he stepped closer to her, he slipped on the bridal train and fell off the balcony.

Destruction was codified as a word with an example that day in history. At first there was pure shocked silence, as the crowd looked at the spot where Gunkrunk once stood. Then out of the orc crowd came a cry. “THEY KILLED GUNKRUNK! GET EM!”

Armak bolted for the door as the fighting began between the two crowds. He dodged centaurs being thrown above his head, orcs being impaled to the wall by arrows and knives thrown by the centaurs, fires somehow burning and spreading on the stone work. It also seemed that a revolt was happening amongst the slaves Gunkrunk had imprisoned in his keep, as soon explosions began sounding off all around the building. Armak just kept running, not looking back on the terror behind him. Wails and battlecries were the only noises that filled his head.

When he decided he was far enough away from the action, he turned his head to look at the palace that was once a site of celebration. The balcony was gone and the palace itself was flaming husk. 

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”And I never went to another orc celebration ever again. Well, at least for a couple hundred years after that happened. I really steered clear of that region for a while. It had some serious instability until Seoven cleaned it all up.”

The sky had now adopted its night colors and the celebrations had yet to die down yet, the people of Clearmont using their free reign to the fullest. Holly had just finished writing the story, when she looked up at Armak with a doubtful look.

“You tell a lot of tall tales, but this one seems kinda...I don’t know, bland? It has very little action, not a lot of intrigue, and a pretty expected outcome. I mean, ‘everything just went wrong at once’ is just a cliched troupe that most writers use to wrap up a story they haven’t thought all the way through.”

“Holly, life isn’t full of interesting stories all the time. By all accounts most of it is boring. I actually really liked this one, it was a lot tamer than the ones I usually tell.” 

Holly rolled her eyes at him while putting her notebook away. “Well, at least it's another story out of you. I wish you’d tell me more cooler stories though. It makes for more interesting writing.”

Armak stood up and stretched, making several loud pops and groans. “Holly, patience is a virtue. I can’t just remember all the wild tales I've experienced off the top of my head. Especially when you’ve lived a life as full as I.” He bends over and picks up his bags, throwing them onto his back. He beckoned for her to follow him, as he began to walk towards the bright lights and happy voices. She hurriedly caught up to him, though still sported a childish pout on her face. Armak laughed.

“What's so funny, huh?”, Holly shot at him. “Nothing, your impatience just reminded me of a friend I used to have. She was always waiting for one thing or another to happen, and had quite the emotional reaction to many things I tell you.” 

“Well, I hope I get to hear about her sometime then. She sounds very interesting.” Holly rolls her eyes. The remark is lost on Armak, who wistfully looks forward, reminiscing upon past memories.

“Ah, that story won’t be told. Not yet.”

[ohgoddard]

Storyteller Short. Unguided Ambition and its Consequences.

“I find myself standing atop my castle, the crown jewel of my conquests. I have laid waste to all I have known and claimed it as my own, no one could have stood between me and my ambition. It has always been this way, a constant need for greater desires. I could not ever wallow in the sty of my previous holdings, for it was beneath me to put myself on the level of someone else. No one should see eye to eye with me, any creature who dared no longer walks this plane without a limp or loss. In my ears I only hear the beating drums that I have always heard.

I look out over the lands I have taken, me and me alone. No army was worth taking with me, none could match my drive. My determination was intimidating, those who had tried to mantle it have found themselves dissolved into nothingness. But not me. My name is forever etched into the histories. Elders shudder when they tell my name to their young, towns abandon themselves when word of my arrival comes upon them. They scatter like cockroaches exposed to light. The light of a more deserving man.

My castle, of which I am unsure to name yet, stands atop a jagged rock and overlooks its domain with a watchful gaze. Under its previous owners it was always a symbol of safety, knowing the monarchs could see the people and protect them from their warring neighbors. Oh how foolish they were to believe that only stone and mud could halt the advance of one who has long surpassed the constraints of regular management. For now, as the paid price for their folly, their once safe beacon has now turned into the eyes and ears of the malevolent.

Me.

The room and its occupants I had slaughtered lay in disarray behind me, the colors of chaos creating a painting all to familiar to me. A brilliant swath of crimson and burgundy across all manners. A tapestry of artistic prowess, soiled with the iron rich paint I seem to spawn around me. The wondrous gold goblets and chalices the rich and powerful always seem to adorn and surround themselves with are filled with a red wine that is far thicker than normal.

I am not a monster, no I am a bored god. Though I was born man, I found that to be too limiting. So I gave my humanity away. I sold it to the highest bidder, to whomever wanted my eternal being. I haggled and bartered with beings that would have turned lesser men’s minds to sludge, and came out on top. I destroy all any and all now, but I look back on that deal. That handshake with the crooked smiling man who had approached me in the night. He appeared out of nowhere, was dressed in nothing and everything at once, and spoke the exact words I needed to hear. When he left I felt empty, but my shell was no longer a weak one.”

I turn from the balcony, overlooking miles of burnt crops and fires dancing over villages and homesteads. Before me, across the room of the pitiful monarchs I had given the mercy of death, stands an orc. In his hands he holds a hefty ax, one nearly clipping the door frame he had walked through. He stands near seven feet tall, and was built like the castle I stood upon. What he wore and how he wore it was interesting to me though. A barbarian’s kit , to be sure, furs stick out of metal shoulder pads and chest plate, and his legs are protected by nothing but a tattered cloth. 

“I say all this, brute, so that you understand that you have committed a folly in your own right. By not only showing up with a weapon and dressed the way you are, you have certainly come here to try and kill me. And ,like the others, you will fail too.”

I was nothing like the orc before me. I was a foot shorter, a few hundred pounds lighter, and I carry no weapon. I dress in nothing but pants and shoes, letting the scars upon my chest be all the covering I need. I do not need to carry a weapon. I am far more dangerous than any machination of the mortal realm.

The orc smiled, and with his off hand stroked a short and spiked black beard. “Ya think highly of yourself, huh? All big ‘n mighty atop yer throne of shattered bones ‘n what-not?” The orc gave a loud laughed and slapped his knee, erupting into a fit as he whipped a tear away from his eye. My blood started to boil, how dare a lesser thing like him dare to say this?!

As I open my mouth to speak, he cuts me off. “I’ve ‘eard it all before. A divine blesses you with the unimaginable, yah? You go on a big rampage and think yerself the top o’ the world, but always settle down in the seat of power where you belong, huh?” The orc lifts the ax from the ground and holds it in two hands, the laughing face falling. It was as if a different person was behind those suns of gold he called eyes.

“This is where I come in. You put a bad name on conquest. Destruction for the sake of destroying is a disgrace to creation. My own conquest cannot go on with this tumor you’ve created growing next to me. So, I challenge you for all your worldly possessions. Your empire, your wealth. All of it.” The orc takes his stance before me, and readies his weapon. “I avenge those who have sworn their oaths to me, and I will do the same here. I am Gukrag the Undefeated. You will fall before me.”

He then rushes me. And I must admit, he truly had angered me.Never before had such a mortal made me feel emotion, especially anger. I had always felt boredom, never anger. I would savor this fight. I rush forward to meet his charge, my fists primed before me. When we make contact in the middle of the room he swings his ax with lighting speed, but I dodge it just the same. I level a punch straight for his head.

The sounds of bone cracking and pure pain erupt within my arm as I hit the ground. My back hits the floor and I raise my hand in astonishment, seeing how mangled it has become before me. I look up in abject horror upon my attacker. Someone...is stronger than me?

He looks different. His aura was visible,t he space around him seemed to bend into him, creating a warped perception. His body glowed red and I could hear the drums.. but they had left my ears. 

I hear them from his.

“No godly help in this one, Knuckleduster.” After that his ax swings, and my world as I knew it ends.

Except.

I wake up, surrounded by darkness. My skin feels heavy, my bones feel hollow. I attempt to raise my hands but find I cannot. I lay upon stone, its coldness on my back the only thing I feel. Around me, though I cannot move my head I know what it is, are walls of glyphs and runes. Their power keeps me restrained in this coffin. My skin does not grow to fix itself,my bones do not heal,my thirst and hunger do not satiate themselves. My eyes do not water, for their lids have been torn from me.These runes keep me in a state of defeat and eternal pain. But that is not the only thing they do. They emit a low blue light, one that shows a message engraved into the lid above my eyes.

“For each life you have taken, I will take a decade of yours.” - G

I vow when I escape, for it is a when not an if, I will destroy all of which Gokrug has built. I will destroy the world he created and all who dare to do so with him. I swear upon my new name, the moniker he had given me as an insult. The world will know to fear me.

They will fear Knuckleduster.

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“Hey Armak, why are avoiding this castle here? There’s probably some good stuff we can find! I mean, depending on its age there can be untold number of books and knowledge that-”

“We will not walk anywhere near it.”

Holly and Armak were cutting across a large field near the very south of the continent, making their way to Clearmont in a straight line. Beyond the foothills and resting atop a jagged rock lays a castle, obviously uncared for and decrepit. Its towering figure overlooks all for miles, and Holly had been staring at it for a few days now. Something about it just seemed so...calling.

Holly gave Armak one of her signature pouty faces. “Pleaaseee? Our last adventure was a huge bust, I mean come on a vampire who thinks they can run an entire kingdom just by themselves and the occasional traveling band of merchants? Totally boring! This castle just seems so -”

“Holly, no.” Armak had not once looked at this castle, at least when Holly could see him, since they had come across its watchful visage. His voice sounds out with decisiveness. “That castle is only home to dust, destruction, and demons. No treasure rests behind those walls.”

“Well how do you know?”

Armak turns to look at Holly with a far away look, as if recalling a fond memory for the first time in a while. His silence is broken after a smile slowly forms across his face.”An old friend told me. Now, lets cut the chatter. Clearmont’s annual collapse of government is about to happen and I’ll be damned if I miss it again.” The duo continued their walking then, moving on to different topics. And after a while the castle faded from view. But it never left Armak’s mind.

[ohgoddard]

Storyteller.1.

AN: This will be an infrequent story series comprised of short stories taking place within a dnd world. 

The campfire burned with a soft heat, illuminating the grasslands around it. The crimson embers shone with quiet intensity as it warmed those sitting around it. Above in the sky resides a setting sun, with its departure beginning to release a swath of stars. Upon the opposite horizon rises the twin moons, their opposing pale blue and bright white auras bouncing off each other, creating a shimmering wave of light across the coming night sky. Around the fire, two figures rest upon two fallen logs, roasting their hunt upon a stick. Above them, Pteranodons croaked and screech as they flap away into the sunset, chasing smaller birds.

One figure at the campfire pulls in their stick, and raises it to their face. With their free hand, they remove bandages around their face, revealing a beak. He begins eating into the jackrabbit he had on his stick. The man was a tall, spindly thing with wraps tightly clinging to long, thin arms. His body is obscured mostly by a large green cloak, only tightly wrapped arms and legs betraying his stealth. His feet were large,bird-like claws, colored a fading gold. 

The other figure sitting across from the cloaked man was almost the complete opposite of him. She was a short-ish, slim elf girl with long golden hair ending in an intricate braid. She wears a light blue frock, accented with small yellow elements. Her pants were a black leather, with a simple leather belt holding everything together. She wore upon her feet a furred boots. Her perky ears stand straight up, with a slight bend pointing behind her. She was currently devouring a small rabbit, which she had roasted over the fire. She finished it ravenously and eyed up the man in the cloak. Her eyes, in contrast to the wrapped man’s glowing amber, were a vibrant emerald green. And green they were, as she jealously eyed up the larger creature the man ate.

“Hey. Hey Armak.” Her voice came out in a beautiful melody, akin to a siren’s song. It wavered in soothing patterns, and lesser man would’ve fallen into a spell listening to her. Armak, the man in the cloak and wrappings, grunted. “Were you planning on finishing that hog there?” Armak slowly turned his head, staring down the elf. Looking at Armak head on, one could see he was an ancient aarakocra. His bandages wrap around his face, gripping it tightly, thus betraying ha rather large eagle head perched atop his rather spindly body.

“Yes.” Armark’s voice came off as a wise man’s. That gruffness that came from ancient knowledge instead of screaming and yelling of anger. It had a slight accent to it, which no one from the continent of Avondale had been able to pin. When asked about it, Armak only replied that, “it is the sound of my people.” People would usually be put off by the man’s appearance, appearing far ancient than his race would allow. He bore no feathers, save for the grey and white that encompass his head. 

“Are you sure? You know, I’ve worked quite hard for us today.” The elf jumped from her log stool and walked to where Armak was sitting. Armak had still not stopped eating the whole pig he had stuck. “Holly, you were almost trampled by the animal I am currently eating. I do not think you did much for us today besides laying out the fire.” Holly, the elf, stopped her little walk and immediately went into a pose that suggested a childish pout. She turned and began to walk back to her log stump, when Armak continued. “Plus, you must not eat much, else you lose your figure. Elf men are a pretentious lot, you should know.” Armak ducked out of instinct, and as he did so the log stump Holly was sitting on sailed over his head. He continued to eat.

“I offer only words of wisdom. Is that not what you write in your book?”

Holly was standing across from him, visibly fuming, her face very red. She took several deep breaths, muttering some mantra in elvish to herself in closed eyes, regained her composure, and addressed Armak. “Just so you know, the wisdom you claim to spout is very rude. Second of all, I do not write down what you claim to be wisdom. I write the stories you tell. I’ve told you this many times.”

“I am aware. I just choose to think you write about my wisdom.” Holly hmph’d before retrieving her stump and putting back where it was, grumbling the entire time in a language Armak could not understand, nor in that moment would wish to know what she was saying. Once Holly had situated herself where she began, she was still eyeing Armak.

“Holly, you can quit your jealous gaze. I am not going to give you my meal.”

“No, no I think I deserve something as an apology after that rude comment you made. And if not your food, then something else.”

“You have been getting a bit round around your bottom.” Armak ducked once more as a rock sailed over his head.

Holly spoke once more,a bit more subdued anger in her voice. “Yeah, rude like that. I want a story.”

Armak looked up from his food, looking at Holly. “A story? It is late, and I am tired. Maybe later.”

“No, now. Or else I won’t help you rebandage yourself.”

Armak thought on this. He could easily rebandage himself, but it is such a hassle to do it. He weighed the options..

“Fine, you have forced my hand. I shall tell you a story.”

Holly excitedly started digging the bag sitting next to her, pulling out a journal with a pencil. She propped her legs underneath to form a table, and was facing Armak with glee on her face, ready to write.

“This story is about the time I bested a djinni in a game of chess, saving my life and the life of the yuan-ti princess he had taken as her prisoner.”

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“Well, Flightless One, make your move.”

Armak sat across a man of towering height and awesome strength. His skin was a burgundy red, the only contrasts upon him being the gold bands around his arms and neck and the coal-black pointed facial hair he adorned himself in. His legs were a red mist, billowing below him, and his teeth were whiter than the moons. His arms were cross in front of him, and he was smugly looking down on Armak. He had removed his hood and head wrappings, showing the brilliant grey and white feathers and faded golden beak. They sat in a large, red tent, with beautiful tapestries floating all around him. Below him were carpets that felt softer than the touch of an Aasimar, and more colorful than the feathers of a parrot. Behind him was the tent flaps, being guarded by two large sphinxes. And behind the Djinni, a large golden cage.

Armak had been asked by the local Malekeh, a yuan-ti queen to a nomadic people in the desert long since gone to the sands of time known as the Kasseem, to retrieve her daughter from the great trickster Djinni Bhismah. He had come in the middle of the night, disguised as a prince from another tribe of yuan-ti. He had convinced her to come run away with him. But it was a trap, as when he did so he captured her and planned to extort a ransom in the form of worship from the Kasseem. Armak had been in the area looking for just such a thing, a Djinni would grant him any wish if he were to best it at its own game. He gladly took the Malekeh’s request and tracked the princess to the Djinni’s tent. And this is where he found himself now.

“Great Djinni, I need to hear the stakes once more, so I know I am not to be deceived.” This would not be the first time Armak had tangled with the Djinn, and each was more trickier than the last. “But of course, Flightless One. In this game of chess, if I am to win you AND the princess will be mine, except I will consume you. If you win, I will release the princess into your custody and allow you to leave my tent without harm.” 

Armak knew the trick the desert spirit was pulling on him. Not only would he cheat in this game, should he lose it he would send his sphinxes to attack him the minute he left the tent, so he had to think this through. “Thank you for stating them once again. I had to be certain.”

“No foul feelings, Flightless One. Shall we begin?”

Armak could not play chess what-so-ever, and the Djinni knew this. However, he had a trick up his sleeve. Before venturing out here, he asked if the princess could play the game of chess. The Malekeh told him that she is a renowned player amongst the tribes, which gave Armak an idea. He had polished his chestpiece he wore under his cloak to a shine which blinds a man in the sun. Once the game had been decided and the terms set, Armak moved his cloak away from his chest, revealing the chest piece. The princess caught on immediately. 

The Djinni had made the first move, a pawn. Armak pondered greatly about his next move, his eyes darting to the princess. His shiny plate had mirrored the game board perfectly to the princess behind the Djinni. She made gestures with her hands indicating the grid square to move, and Armak did just that. A few moves later, and seemingly out of nowhere, Armak won.

The Djinni was speechless, as he had never beaten in chess before, much less by a creature he knew could not play it.

“Well, Flightless One, it seems you have beaten me. And I must abide by my word, as governed by the laws of nature. You may leave my tent with the princess.” He snapped his great red fingers and the cage containing the Yuan-Ti princess opened, releasing her. She quickly walked out, her elegant dress trailing behind her as she attached herself to the arm of Armak.

“Thank you for your hospitality, Great Djinni.” Armak stood and bowed before the crimson creature, and stood tall once more to speak to him. “I do have a question, however.”

The Djinni’s face grew somber, and he shook his face. “Flightless One, I know of your condition. My magic, nor any others, can remove the curse placed upon you. Now, leave my tent.”

Armak bowed once more. “Thank you, Great Djinni.”

As Armak and the princess walked out of the tent, Armak subtly moved his hand to his waist, which lay his short sword. He and the princess left the tent and, to Armak’s prediction, did not get very far from it until the sphinxes attacked. The Djinni could be heard laughing from his tent, as it shimmered away akin to a mirage, leaving only Armak, the princesses, and the sphinxes. Armak drew his short sword, a simple iron thing, and threw it. The accuracy was deadly, the sword lodging into an eye of one sphinx, felling it instantly. The other sphinx charged the princess, but Armak jumped and wrestled with it to the ground. The sphinx bent its head and snapped at Armak’s head, narrowly missing it. He grabbed a dagger from his boot and plunged it deep into the sphinx’s neck. The creature bucked Armak from its body, sending him flying into the sands behind him. The creature shot up and was staring down Armak, growling. Then, the princess called out in broken common, “Quick move now!” Armak dove to the side, as the sphinx turned around. The princess pointed his hands at the creature and out from it came a beam of orange light. The light went into the body of the beast, slowly enveloping it until, after a minute of straight energy being expelled into the animal, the light show ended with the creature no longer being there. Then, exhausted from the attack, the princess fainted into the sands.

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“After that, I carried her back to the camp of her people and left.”

Holly was speechless. Her pencil, while never stopping during the story, now lay idle. Her mouth was agape. 

The sky above them was now magnificent shades of violet and blue, with a swath of stars across them like a painter’s canvas. The moons are now high in the sky, casting their pale light onto the duo now. The sounds of cicadas and other insects echo now, as glowflies float in and out view as they illuminate the air. The fire had long since died, only the embers give any faint glow. Armak had finished his meal, and was lounging back on his log.

“You killed a SPHINX?!” Holly exclaimed.

“Coulda just been a rather large dog,lion thing.”

Holly was beside herself due to the company she found herself in. Not too long ago in the city of Clearmont, she met Armak at a bar, and having a hunch decided to follow him. She could sense the history in his voice, and wanted to hear what he could say. She had heard many stories from him, and each one carried an adventure with it. Sometimes however, his stories would be so outlandish she did not fully believe him. “No, I do not believe you felled a sphinx. They are an immortal creature.”

“Think as you must, you asked for my story and I gave one. Now, will you readdress my bandages before I retire?” Holly got up from her stump, and gave herself a stretch. 

“Fine, a promise is a promise.” Holly walked to Armak’s bag and started rooting around for new bandages.  However she found something else while doing so. With the story still on her mind, she rooted around and found something strange. A large claw, wrapped in an ornamental desert sash.

Perhaps Armak had truth in his story after all.