Sword and Sorcery Superdraft: July 2022

[Pariah]

Protagonist: Kevin Thomson

 

He's 19 years old, tallish, athletic, brown hair, blue eyes, from a small town in southwestern Montana. He's back from the summer after his freshman year at engineering school. He enjoys horseback riding, kayaking, and spelunking. 

 

What's he doing in a Swords and Sorcery adventure? Ask me again in a few days. 

[L. Marcus]

The ferry took forever to come across the bay. The cool Fall air had started to make Eda's cheeks to go numb as she sat on the wharf, waiting. She was starting to get bored, while at the same time still being nervous; as a fledgling journeyman wizard, this was the first time in seven years that she was on the road without her master's company.

 

Her master, when they were saying their goodbyes, had advised her to look up an old friend of his, as a first step on her journey. This friend, Master Kol, was mage at the court of the duke of Langlach, and it was to the duke's castle town that Eda wished to go, if ever the very slow ferry ever got to the hither shore. She could swear that it hadn't moved at all since she sat down to wait for passage.

 

To pass the time, and to soothe her nerves and to relieve her boredom, she started to meditate. Counting breaths and heartbeats, she listened to her body, feeling it. Her sore feet, her tired knees, the way her staff rested on her palms, the way the bollard was starting to get uncomfortable to sit on ... Then she reached out, feeling the chill breeze, hearing the cold water of the lake lapping against the gray shingles on the beach ... Going further, she felt the low grey even clouds, the pine forest behind her, the tang in the air, the roots in the earth ...

 

And then she peeped through her eyes and she was back in herself again; the damn boat still hadn't moved.

 

Protagonist: Eda the Journeyman Wizard.

[Pattern Ghost]

Mortimer, "Morti," Whynter was a 27 year old college junior, the King of Major Swaps. His inheritance from his great aunt Hortense provided for all of his needs until his college graduation, including a very well-appointed apartment with a great entertainment system. Mortimer poured over the college catalog fretfully, as he was running out of majors! He had so many credits in each area that the remaining degrees would only buy him a few more semesters at best. He tossed aside his iPad (with all the upgrades) and turned on his 75" TV. He'd have to start considering jobs (aunt Hortense's trust fund didn't cover grad school; she was self-made and was being quite uncharacteristically generous in providing for a four year degree), when what he really wanted to do was Netflix and chill. If only he could find someone to chill with. His prospects were slim until . . .

 

. . . his potted ficus suddenly grew to an enormous size, and wrapped itself around him. For a time, everything was green. Just green. Every shade from light, almost yellowish green akin to the back of some plants' leaves, to a dark, almost black shade that reminded him of . . . nothing, really. Morti didn't really have a whole lot of knowledge about plants, despite his 8 semester hours in Botany. He began to feel faint, and start to wonder whether he was dreaming, having drifted off while watching Day of the Triffids or something. As he realized that he hadn't yet started streaming any shows, he suddenly found himself in a small . . . hut? alchemy lab? nursery? He'd been summoned by  . . .

[Cancer]

Protagonist: Akhar the Orc

 

Akhar is a big, tough, fast Orc warrior, not as dumb (or as savage) as he looks.  198 cm tall (when he stands fully erect), 115 kg, unusually he wears a steel chainmail tabard, a broad belt of heavy leather, and a bascinet and aventail.  His primary weapon is an obviously enchanted all-metal francisa, big enough to be wielded two-handed, but nimble enough to be thrown for deadly effect.  Its magic is obvious in that flames envelop the edge of the axe when it is ready in the wielder's grip, and it returns to the Orc's hand after it has done its damage.

 

Though Akhar looks the part of a war leader of a ferocious raiding clan, he usually rides alone at the fringes of human-settled area, traveling from place to place, all the while waiting for the summons of his master.  At the time of our story it has been three years since he had last seen his master, however.  In that time he has been something like a knight-errant, albeit one looking to defend the oppressed and the downtrodden at the raw edge of civilization, which describes most Orcs are in a largely human world -- and not at all wasting his energy in courtly love.  Neither does he look for challengers to prove his mettle, but a long skein of dead bandit leaders lie strewn along his backtrail, bandits who thought their gangs could overpower him and take the unmistakable weapon from his dead hand.

 

Akhar is literate and can speak well in the regional smear of language in his part of the world, but by no stretch of the imagination is his language up to the protocol of court.  He obeys the law when one is in force where he is; otherwise he imposes an atmosphere of peace and civility around him when he lives among humanoids and sentient other creatures who sometimes live with humans.  Even with the hereditary enemies of his race, the elves and the dwarves, he speaks tactfully enough to be able to come to shaking hands and sharing a toast to peace with any of them he encounters wherever he happens to be residing.  He moves from place to place, leaving well-ordered lands when he happens upon them, to avoid the frictions that arise with a noble insecure enough to feel threatened by a heavily equipped Orc, no matter how civil the Orc may act.

 

The places he stays the longest are the small settlements of Orcs who herd their sheep and goats around the edges of human-dominated lands.  Human bandits would prey upon those more if the Orcs had anything like wealth to steal; and when Akhar is there they depart quickly, or end up in a high rocky shrine to Vulture with a cloven head or torso or hip as an offering to the totem-bird.  Though he could assemble a small realm by his own might and hold it, he never settles for long in any one place, spreading some semblance of safety and stability over about a hundred square kilometers of rough, hilly frontier.

[death tribble]

When you first see him you may not be impressed but if he is mounted on Agryx his warhorse, people immediately take notice.

He has the manner and bearing not only of a soldier but a knight. His tabard and shield bear the Red Rose marking him as one of the militant Order of the Rose. He serve the church and protects the innocent. His sword gleams like silver although it is not made of such. But it can cleave through many things like a knife through butter although it does not radiate magic but it is thought to be so.

Now 30 he has survived the rigours of training and crusades. Dark haired he could be mistaken for an ordinary cavalryman but for the size of the dark horse he rides. It marks him out as something extra-ordinary. He becomes all business when wearing a helm which only goes on when he knows that he is going into battle.

He is trusted now to do missions for the church and to represent it.

He is Macrus, Knight Initiate of the Order of the Rose

[Bazza]

Protagonist: Stephanos Strange…he’s kinda like Luke Skywalker, but has black hair and a goatee. He can also do that telekinesis stuff too. 

[death tribble]

4 hours ago, Bazza said:

Protagonist: Stephanos Strange…he’s kinda like Luke Skywalker, but has black hair and a goatee. He can also do that telekinesis stuff too. 

I have this odd feeling of deja vu. It is so recognisable yet I cannot put my finger on it. Maybe when Bazza posts some more I can work it out.

[L. Marcus]

My sarcasm sense, she is tingling! 

[Old Man]

I.

 

Kheza's arms flexed as she was led back into the great tent, but the leather straps binding her wrists still held.  As she expected. The dozen old men were still seated along the far wall of the tent, and there were still a dozen warriors to either side of her. None spoke, but she knew what the verdict would be. She did not kneel, but remained standing, her head nearly brushing the roof of the tent with her height. Her eyes evenly met the gaze of the old men. She knew this would be taken for haughtiness, if not insolence. She did not care.

 

Before long, the leftmost of the old men spoke. "Wahukheza of the White Mountain people. The Council of Elders has discussed your transgressions and is prepared to render judgment. In keeping with our ways, it is the right of the accused to make a final statement before judgment is rendered. Do you have anything to say?"

 

Kheza briefly considered her surroundings. Two dozen warriors from all the clans in the tent, unarmed in accordance with the laws of the Great Tent of the Council of Wise Elders. More warriors outside, armed with shield, spear, and bow. Her wrists bound. Tent walls of thick hide. Yes, she could probably escape.  But she thought better of it.

 

Instead, she spoke. "I say only that if I am to be punished for saving the life of a prince, then the Wise Elders are not as wise as they claim."

 

Immediately one of the other elders shot to his feet. "Impudent wench! You did nothing but humiliate my son! It is beyond forbidden to steal the kill on a first hunt, not even for a common warrior, let alone a prince!"

 

Kheza remained unmoved. "An utewok is dangerous quarry for an expert hunter, far too dangerous for a boy on his first hunt. I know this because I have slain eight. How many have you slain?"

 

"You disrespect this council!" the elder shouted. "You have learned nothing!"

 

"I have learned to let your boy die if he is in danger again."

 

"Enough." The word from the central Elder was not loud, but carried enough force to snuff out the argument. He glanced at the still-furious Elder and waited for him to take his seat before continuing.

 

"Wahukheza of the White Mountain people. You do not deny that you slew the quarry of a warrior's first hunt, stealing his kill, his honor, and his manhood. And you remain defiant of this Council."

 

Kheza lifted her chin and hoped for exile. It would be preferable to servitude to the aggrieved Elder, even for a day.

 

"It is not lost on us that you believe you saved the boy's life, though we question whether a life with such humiliation would be worth saving. To account for this, we withhold the sentence of exile and would reduce the time of your servitude to the Black Dog clan."

 

I should have tried to escape, Kheza thought.

 

Protagonist: Okinyan Wahukheza, whose name means "Flying Spear" in the tongue of the White Mountain people, and which has nothing to do with her considerable skill with a spear.

 

II.

 

But the chief Elder continued.

 

"However, a situation has arisen. It is highly unusual, but the Council has been forced into choosing a different penance.

 

"After this humiliation, the boy, Wiyukcan of the Black Dog people, vanished into the woods. None have seen him for a quarter moon. This we all knew.  What we did not know was that, wandering the woods alone and in shame, Wiyukcan was captured by Eastern barbarians."

 

A stirring rippled through the warriors around Kheza. They all knew what this meant.

 

"The truce between the Hundred Peoples and the Eastern barbarians is a fragile one," the Elder continued. "This kidnapping is a deep violation of that truce. Many thousands died in the last war. Another war must be avoided at all costs. We cannot send our warriors against the barbarian outposts in great numbers.

 

"Yet neither can we leave a prince of the Hundred Peoples in the hands of barbarian kidnappers, nor can we let the insult go unaddressed. This was the question posed to the Elders. How can we retrieve the boy without risking open war between our people?

 

"Wahukheza. You are well known among the Peoples as an excellent hunter and tracker. You are also known for your contempt for authority. Our solution, and your penance, is this. You are hereby exiled from the lands of the Hundred Peoples unless and until you find the boy Wiyukcan and return him safely to the Black Dog clan. As an exile, if you are captured or defeated by the barbarians, you will be disavowed by this Council and subject to their mercy. If you return to our lands without the boy, you will be enslaved to the Black Dog clan. This is the word of the Council of Elders. Are there any questions?"

 

Kheza thought for a moment, then answered. "I say only that I will retrieve Wiyukcan, not because I fear exile, but because I believe it is the duty of the strong to protect the weak." She could not help but put a little emphasis on weak.

 

She realized she would have to succeed now.  But the look on the furious Elder's face was worth it.

 

Person(s) in need of help:  Wiyukcan of the Black Dog people, a young prince on the verge of manhood

[L. Marcus]

A good beginning, Oldie! Buuut second pick was to wait until Monday -- weekend is downtime for picking.

[Old Man]

D'oh!  Well I hope I didn't inadvertently steal anyone else's pick. 

[L. Marcus]

Kimda-sorta a half-snipe on my part, but I can build around it, if not wholly ignore it. 😁

[assault]

47 minutes ago, Old Man said:

D'oh!  Well I hope I didn't inadvertently steal anyone else's pick. 

 

All good. This is pretty snipe proof.

Now, personally, I keep running into ideas that should be poetry. That's not going to happen.

The other thing I keep running into was that I should have left it at six picks, and made five philosophy jokes with a Rocky Horror punchline.

Yeah. Writer's block. And I'm the idiot that set the rules...

[Pariah]

4 hours ago, assault said:

Yeah. Writer's block. And I'm the idiot that set the rules...

 

"For 'tis the sport to have the engineer

hoist with his own petard; and 't shall go hard,

but I will delve one yard below their mines,

and blow them at the moon."

 

[Cancer]

Spoiler

THERE WAS A HOON POSTER FROM ADELAIDE
WHOSE TALE STARTED "NELLY THE BARMAID..."
IT WENT DOWNHILL FROM THERE
(magical derriere)
AND WE LEAVE OUT WHAT EXACTLY GOT FLAYED

 

There we go.  Epic limerick about an Aussie S&S poet.

[Cancer]

So when's our next installment to be posted?

[assault]

20 minutes ago, Cancer said:

So when's our next installment to be posted?

 

Anytime.

 

Technically about 8 hours ago,if that helps.

[Cancer]

Deity: Vulture, patron of Akhar's kindred of Orcs

 

The Orcs are, of course, a numerous and highly diverse race.  Akhar's particular background is of herder-gatherer-scratch farmer folk from a warm continental interior.  His people observe a shamanistic tradition, with many deities and spirits to be invoked, most often through a particular tribal totem.  For Akhar's people, that totem is Vulture.  Vulture only takes what is already dead (but gives warnings of where and to whom that will next befall), and is of great patience and infinite endurance is It soars over the vast stretches of plains, hills, and deserts.  Vulture shares what It finds with Its brethren with a minimum of squabbling, consuming all It needs yet leaving no excess behind to spoil wastefully, and in doing so returns to the service of sustaining life that which was alive and is now dead.  Vulture does not begrudge the herders the meat of their beasts, because Vulture only takes what others have left behind.  Vulture cannot be poisoned, and always appears at the location of a thing which has died, and flies off quietly once it has consumed that which is no longer alive.

 

Undeath is blasphemous and horrifying to those of this belief and especially of this totem, though usually the very concept of undead monsters does not occur to them until they are told of it by outsiders or discover cases of it by themselves.  How exactly Vulture combats undeath is not obvious to those without shamanistic initiation, aside from the obvious preemptive destruction of the potentially restless dead by consuming them before they are imbued with the unholy magic.  It is taken for granted that Vulture has power against the undead, but only the shamans know how that power manifests, and they do not answer questions about the subject in a comprehensible way.  In a foreshadowing vignette early in the story an orc-boy shepherd is saved from a walking skeleton that surprises him; a circling vulture climbing in a thermal has its shadow pass over boy and skeleton, and the skeleton falls apart into disarticulated bones.  The boy brings the first news of trouble back to his village.

[death tribble]

Secondary Antagonist

Velath of the Three Fold Way. This fighter has clashed with Macrus and does not like Order of The Rose one little bit. He does not understand that their discipline and faith gives them strength and that all the barbed weaponry and poisons will not help him become the premier fighter. He believes that if he kills the members of the Order he will be acknowledged as a great fighter. But the Gods have already seen to his destiny and someone will always be better. He is however capable of getting tasks done and this has ensured his survival. He has also put enough minions in the way so that he does not get exhausted and can make his escape. Naturally he is garbed in black and has some vicious looking weapons which are capable of inflicting a great deal of harm.

Agryx, Macrus's warhorse, does not like him and will humiliate him if given the chance but the horse is wise enough not to fall into a trap and to evade devices that will cripple a horse much to Velath's frustration 

[Pariah]

MacGuffin/Gadget: The Stones

 

There are four stones, each representing one aspect of elemental magic: Air, Earth, Water, and Fire. Each Stone is approximately the size of a modern deck of playing cards. To most people, the stones appear to be normal metamorphic rocks with distinct but unremarkable strata. But to those with The Calling, i.e., those who possess the ability to understand and use Magic, the Stones are vividly colored with bands of gold, green, blue, and red. Those without The Calling cannot see the colors.

 

Though each of the Stones has unique properties, there are several things that the four have in common. Possession and use of a Stone by one with The Calling not only confers great magical power, but amplifies the holder's own talents. Once a person has become attuned to a Stone, it cannot be taken from them unless they give it up willingly, or are slain. One sufficiently attuned to a Stone can draw upon its power even when it is not in their physical possession. Such attunement typically takes years of study and practice.

 

Historically, no person has ever possessed more than one Stone. It is unlikely that anyone ever could. The demands on the will and fortitude of a holder are such that to try to control the power of two or more Stones would almost certainly have fatal consequences. 

 

Those who possess the Stones are generally very circumspect in their use. To advertise that one possesses a Stone is an act of complete ignorance or unimaginable hubris. 

[Pariah]

New picks now, yes?

[death tribble]

Secondary Protagonist

The Most Reverend Pelas Quorl of the Sacred Order. Pelas is a cleric sent out to bring the blessings of the God to the faithful and to convert the unfaithful. Pelas is trouble magnet, something that he seems blissfully unaware of. The number of murders and other plots that have been fouled because he blundered into them is no odds to anyone but the Gods. Pelas believes that he is there to bring Macrus onto the true path whereas the Paladin is there to extricate the cleric from whatever fate he has unwittingly plunged into this week. Pelas has a faith that cannot be shaken although he is too stupid to realise what the villains are really up to. He carries blunging arms as he is not allowed to draw blood with bladed weapons.

Pelas truly believes that stories and songs will be written of him and his trusty sidekick Macrus the fighter when it is the other way around.

[assault]

I meant to post this two and a half hours ago:
---

There came the sound of slughorns and tocsins, of wailing priests, and of the great gates opening.

It was the dawn of the Third Day.

 

---

Aside from being a notification that it was time to post again, this is a Location pick: The City of Ytic.

 

A large coastal city state, with a substantial rural hinterland.

 

---

Yes, I know I haven't done my initial protagonist pick yet. The League Tyrant has chastised me.

And calling a city "Ytic" is horribly lazy - but it actually kind of works.

 

My other two picks will be along soon.

[assault]

This should have been my first pick. Naughty me.
---

It is generally accepted that, save for his unfortunate profession, Surga the Dark Lord is quite a pleasant fellow.

His exactions are modest, and his manners are pleasant. Furthermore, he is diligent in halting the depredations of lesser fiends.

All up, he is the kind of Tyrant that you would most like to suffer under.

 

He appears to be a middle aged man of medium height, bearded and with dark wavy hair. Some say that he is younger than he appears - others that he is much older. He tends to dress in comfortable robes, befitting the weather, although he has been seen on horseback in barbarian-style breeches.

 

He is, it is said, an excellent cook.

Protagonist: Surga the Dark Lord.

[assault]

This will bring me up to date.
---

 

Cats will be cats.

The priests of the Great Temple were horrified when they first saw the cat sleeping on the Great Ark in the Most Holy Place. But what could they do? The Most Holy Place can only be entered by certain people on certain occasions, so they could not enter to shoo the animal away.

Bringing in eminent theologians, they concluded that since the cat had not been struck down by divine wrath, it was there by permission. But what was its nature? Was it a mere beast, or a divine manifestation? Noting that it hid during worship services, the theologians determined it was the former, finally concluding that the Great God just liked cats.

 

Since then, the popularity of cats as pets in Ytic has boomed.
---

Location Pick #2: The Great Temple.

 

Located on a hill in the centre of Ytic, the Great Temple dominates the city's skyline. It is built of marble, in a vaguely Hellenistic style.

 

Aside from the Great Ark - a combination of reliquary and divine throne - the Temple is also the location of a Holy Flame, which priestesses of noble birth are charged with preventing from ever going out.

The hill it is located on also serves at Ytic's citadel, and contains granaries designed to feed a garrison in times of siege. Granaries attract vermin, and vermin attract cats...