An evening on the farm [18+ Possible]

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Lokan
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An evening on the farm [18+ Possible]

Post by Lokan »

This was posted some time ago in the BG IC forum. I would like to make this a running narrative, so I am moving it to here. I hope you will enjoy it, and forgive some of my awkward grammar from time to time.

Just before dusk a loud clang of a dinner bell perched on a pair of tall scaffold poles rings over a Dalelands farm. The farm, which lays just north of the Cormanthor forest not far south west of Hillsfar, is smaller than just about every other farm in the area, but is teaming with animals. Pigs, cattle, sheep, goats, are all locked up and well feed. A couple of small planted fields of wheat and a garden of assorted vegetables break up the vast hay and corn meal fields, and grazing land that stretch to the ends of the farms boundary.

The bells rope tenses itself to ring the bell and releases all seemingly of its own power. Only as the light grows dimmer is the faint outline of the ropes operator seen.

Dent Jars comes tumbling across the cow pasture while pulling a small cart full of freshly cut wood. AT just 18 years, he already is as husky and brawny as his father was, and his face is weathered a bit more than his years. He waves to his mother who is standing beneath the dinner bell as its final vibrations hum. His mother waves back, looks as if she is looking at a small boy and walks through the kitchen door of the farmhouse.

Dent, eager to get to dinner, dumps the wood in a pile and leaves it in disarray. His hurried motions are abruptly halted as he jerks on the handle of the locked kitchen door. He fumbles for the key, and opens the door to a warm and inviting kitchen. The smell of stew thickens the air.

"Ma you locked me out again...you do that everyday." Dent says.
"Sorry dear, now go get washed up. Tomorrow is tax collection day, and you will have to get to sleep as soon as you finish your dinner" She exclaims.

The house is spotlessly clean in places, and then thickly dust covered in others. The wood stove simmers a pot of thick stew. Utensils, bowls, and napkins seem to float about and land on the table on their own. The visage of Dent's mother warps from completely visible, to incorporeal, to ghostly as she passes by the window and catches a beam from the moon, then back to normal again. Dent either doesn't notice or is unaffected by the strange activity in the house, pays it no mind and moves to another room to wash up. A small chest sits open on a small table in the corner of the kitchen. Two small bags of gold coins rest within the chest.

"I have counted out the tax coin; it sits there in the chest" the ghostly mother points out. "We don't want those collectors getting mad with us again." She says with a motherly sarcasm.

"yes, ma. Do I give it to them tax collectors tomorrow?" Dent questions.

"yes, tomorrow" His mother answers.

"But that's what you said yesterday and the day before...tax men come tomorrow...that's what you said" Dent continues.

"I have counted out the tax coin; it sits there in the chest. We don't want those collectors getting mad with us again." She repeats the statement exactly as it was said before. Dent enters the kitchen and notices that the bags of coins have formed a layer of dust, but says nothing about it.

"Okay, ma" Dent says as he is sitting down to eat. "Ma, I hear there is a festival for that Chauntea lady...or whatever her name is. You know, the goddess. What god do we follow?" He asked just like he has asked for the last seven years; ever since a group of Red Plumes and a tax collector from Hillsfar killed his father for not having enough for the extra handling tax they were imposing.

The house grew still, cold and lifeless, with the question.

As Dent looks around for his mother, he spots flashes of light out toward the south end of the farm, very near the Cormanthor forest. He snatches up his fathers old adventuring pack and runs out the door to investigate.

Dents mother reappears.

"I will not let that boy find the same fate as you!" She barks toward a grave site out near the road.
Last edited by Lokan on Sat May 08, 2010 9:29 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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I died

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Dent and Gill watched the wolf stalk near the small rock outcropping just off the beach. It was the same outcropping that Dent had spotted a ghostly woman while on a trip out to the sea cave with Laque a few days ago. Dent had a bad feeling about this area. He had talked about it with Leigh, and mentioned it to Laque as well. Dent hadn't seen his mother nor even heard her talk to him in a very long time. He toyed with the idea that she was a ghost like Merrin had mentioned, but every time he thought such things his thoughts would wander and some how the thought would be blocked out of his mind.

"Laque says not to kill the wolves out here. So i try not to kill em" Dent told Gill
"But they are wolves, Dent, and they are dangerous" Gill argued.
"Ya, these are alot bigger, and meaner than the ones I would chase away from our sheep on the farm for sure. But if they don't get your scent, you can avoid em easy enough." Dent continued.

The pair then notice a body near the wolf. It may have been a citizen of Baldur's Gate or just a wanderer, but it was easy enough to see that the wolf had killed another meal.

"That one is a killer, and he's very close to the town" Dent thought.

The two warriors agreed that the wolf should be put down. They engaged the wolf and quickly put it down. They looked over the body to identify the dead man. Neither men recognized him. Dent asked that Ilmater aid the dead man on his way in the afterlife. They continued along the shore in search or herbs that Dent could bring to the herbalist, Arsa. He always needed an excuse to talk to her...she was so pretty after all. Dent found a fern, collected it and showed it to the old soldier. They continued down the hill on the far side of the sea cave. While both men are usually very keen and careful they did not notice the goblins who had been gathering spiders and wolves to them, nor did they see the pack of wolves stalking behind their pack leader just to the west of the cave. There were moving toward the forest just where Dent and Gill were about to enter. The wolves stopped and sniffed the air, daring not to go any further in. They watched the two humans go where they dare not.
Just as they started down the hill into the woods near the abandoned cave where rumors and stories about a crazed nymph still can be heard told, a large catlike creature pounces surprising the two fighters. The beast takes a swing at Dent and dig into his leg with impossibly sharp claws. Dent moves even closer into the cats attack and and swings viciously. The cat turns and runs from the assault. Then turns back to bite at Dent; another deep wound. Dent becomes enraged. He continues the chase of the vicious animal. Gill runs toward the pair in an attempt to help, but the wolves and their pack leader where waiting. The cat, a Necrotuar, turned back on Dent, as the wolves, smelling blood, joined in for a meal. They pounce on Gill who had been separated from Dent by the attack of the cat, and a pair of wolves that had joined in attacking Dent. The wolves drove Gill to the ground. Dent turned his back on the animals and poured a potion on Gill. He swung wildly at all the animals surrounding them. Gill went down again, and Dent used yet another potion. Dent finally dispatched the necrotuar, but Gill laid bleeding for a third time. Dent used his last potion to revive the soldier, and told Gill to run. Dent tried to lead the group away, but ran bleeding directly into the goblins, and the spiders they had let loose on the farmer. It was the perfect ambush. The spiders and goblins and wolves surrounded the young farmer who was so far away from his home. They stabbed and bit, and scratched at Dent as he could hear the screams of Gill from the other side of the hill. Dent swung his axe and fought until all went black.....

An apparition of a woman appears, she weeps. She spots a dwarf approach, she wails without sound, and waves the dwarf toward the body of her son, then disappears.

Helm was the word he heard next...Helm? Then light....
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Lokan
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Somewhere in Calimshan

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A dark skinned knight stands atop a high dune. He looks west. A warm wind from the Marching Mountains to the north picks up speed, and gathers immense clouds of sand in the desert valley below. The sand billows toward the Calim River, and begins to darken the already waning son. The skies reddish hue darkens and fades to black as he turns east; Selune and her tears already high above the deserts eastern horizon. The knights fine cloak whips in the strong evening wind revealing his hard-leather bound plate armor. The clasped hands of the broken god are painted on his chest revealing him to be a paladin of Ilmater. He strides past his tent and crests the highest point of the dune, and a scene unfolds before him.

Dark clouds of smoke billow from a black walled temple nestled among the dunes. An army of priests, knights, and warriors set up a siege encampment surrounding the ominous structure. Occasionally offensive spells, and arrows are flung from its walls and set small fires to the scattered desert brush. Groups of priests gather to chant away protective barriers, and knights ready their arms in the failing light. In the organized chaos, shadows, flames and light seem to dance against dust, metal, and magic. A small contingent of warriors moves at a jog over the dune to the paladin's south and heads toward the larger army.

The paladin picks out one of the warriors and calls out, “Dent, approach me!”
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Brother Novander [18+]

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Reader please be advised. This portion has mention of cruel acts

Brother Novander, or more properly known as Brother Novander Salidji-Painbearer of the Companions of the Noble Heart, was chosen to lead many times in his life. Most recently, he was chosen by his order to take a great number of their knights, and clerics from Cormyr to the largest and most important monastery of Ilmater in Faerun, The House of the Broken God near Keltar in Calimshan.

The monastery had been under assault for weeks when the call for help was sent through out the continent via divine, magical, and mundane means. Loviatari, the cruel worshipers of Loviatar, the Maiden of Pain, had infiltrated Keltar, had taken up fortifications in the region around the great monastery, and planned to destroy the great temples, and gardens. Loviatar and her worshipers where long the antithesis of everything Ilmater stood for, and to destroy the beacon of hope for which the monastery stood would give them an upper hand in the already cruel Calimshite desert.

Soon after the attempted assassination of the Revered Father of the House, Melder Rythtin of the Healing Hand, the call for help went out. Like rain many followers, paladins, and clerics of not only Ilmater but of the entire Triad itself washed toward Keltar.

As reinforcements arrived the attacks slowed and the areas of the town were wrestled away from the grip of the Loviatari. In their wake they left the bodies of tortured and maimed inhabitants. As personal insult to Ilmater they left bags full of their victims severed hands, bound in red ribbons, hanging from lamp posts.

After Keltar was purged there was talk that the Ilmatari would not pursue any further conflict. Paladins of Torm and Tyr protested to the Reverend Father that the Loviatari should be found and destroyed, but the Ilmateri preferred to attend the citizens. It was only after brother Novander and his knights arrived was there a stronger voice from within the church of Ilmater for justice.

Each side began to prepare for battle, and nothing short of a small, but crucial church war brewed. Rumors of Banite generals guiding the Loviatari circulated, and it became clear that the Calimshite government would not get involved when the Pasha of Keltar refused to send any further aid to the monastery.

Three Loviatari outposts had been discovered, two small wooden walled fortifications to the east, and a third mysterious hardened black temple well within the Calim desert to the west. The wooden outposts fell easily, but gave the enemies of Ilmater enough time to build up a defense at the black temple. Novander and his small army of warriors and knights of the Triad had to fight two major battles in order to push at the doors of the final outpost, and there, standing attentively before him, was the unassuming Dent Jars.
Last edited by Lokan on Sat Oct 09, 2010 6:49 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Dent the warrior

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Dent was geared and ready for battle. He wore heavy banded mail that was fastened with hard leather. He wore only leather grieves on his legs, and wrist guards on his arms. He had just returned with a group which had been scouting for counter assaults, and he traveled light. He shielded himself from the heat, sand, and wind of the desert with a tattered cloak and head wrappings. His shield was strapped on his back and he gripped his axe. Smaller throwing axes were strapped in all manners on his armor and belt. On his side was a satchel with some tattered books, food, and a large water skin. He wore a belt across his chest that appeared to hold scrolls. He removed the head wrapping, and flung back his cloak as he approached.

Dents body had changed. Gone was the chubby musculature of his boyhood. Dents face had become hardened and angular; no longer rounded and young. His body had been scarred, tanned and hardened from combat in the abrasive heat. The large but softened muscles of his teen-hood gave way to sturdiness of manhood. His body seemed to ripple as he moved, and was no longer clumsy or awkward. Instead he moved with more speed and efficiency, but still not as trained and graceful as many of his comrades.

Dent rendered the paladin respects and awaited his word.

“Hello, Dent. Good to see you. I am sorry to say that we have had no word back from your friends at Baldurs Gate, but do not worry the courier service we used is reliable. We should hear something soon. What news from your scouting trip?”

“Yes sir, Ragnus will send word. I am certain of it.”

“And on your scout, what did you see out there?”

Another man, a monk of Ilmater, exited the tent, ordered some guards to light torches in front of the tent, and stood behind the paladin in order to appraise Dent.

Dent noded to the monk and continued to look questioningly at Novander.

“Umm, brother Novander, the leader of …” Dent said as he motioned toward the group of soldiers he just left.

“Yes, yes, let them report to the line captain. I want to hear from you!” Novander exclaimed as he moves closer to Dent.

“Well, there were no signs of forces from Calimport and no large groups as far south as the next high dune. We ran into a small group of bandits, and had to kill them, but we saw no manner of monster or creature.”

“What does that tell you Dent?”

“That the capital is not sending anyone to fight us nor fight with us.”

“…and what does that mean?”

Dent takes a moment to ponder the question. “They are on neither side, sir?”

“No, Dent. It means that they are against us…at least in this fight. They are fickle and greedy.” Novander put his hands on Dents shoulders, and looked him in the eye. “You will now report only to me. I have something I need you to do.”
Last edited by Lokan on Fri May 21, 2010 8:29 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Abduction

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Six men traveled by horse. They moved south east out of the thick of the Calim Desert sand. As they neared the rapids of the great Calim River the ground became rocky and hard. They weaved their way through crags made of huge rock formations and boulders. They picked up their pace as they made firmer ground.

They were lead by what seemed to be an experienced scout. Most of the men were experienced riders. One seemed to have trouble keeping up, but by shear strength and physique he was able to handle the animal. They reached a calm point in the river and stopped. Near the river more foliage and even some trees could be found.

The lesser rider, Dent Jars, dismounted and lead his horse to drink. He spent some time talking to the horse while he checked its hooves, and teeth. The feed the horse and found some shade to rest himself and his horse. He helped some of the other men care for their horses and began to set a small shelter.

“Mr. Jars, the area you are looking for is just south of us…there where the cliff begins” The Calimshite scout said with a thick accent as he pointed out a sandy area in the river that was watched over by a small cliff just meters from waters edge.

“I am Dent, please call me Dent.”

“Yes… Mr. Dent”

“No. Just Dent.”

His face would seem grim to some as he talked with the scout, but Dent was merely focused. He had been able to see the world more clearly since the Ilmatari priests found that his mother had been following him as a ghost for a large part of his life. They exorcised the poor woman's ghost and sent her on to the loving arms of Ilmater. It changed how Dent saw the world. No longer was it a clean pristine place where everyone had good in them. He now felt pain more often. He once could fight on with all of his strength and will, and not feel the many blows put upon him. Now things were different. He seemed more...mortal. He was a bit more fearful when he awoke each day than he had been, and all of the memories of his life, and his parents flooded his mind constantly. They were no longer held in check by the ghost of his mother. There was an emptiness to him now as well...his mother was finally gone. He could console himself in thoughts of his friends back at Baldur's Gate, and how they had become a family to him, and how he might return and help them defeat the vampires that threatened the city.

Dent turned to the other men and told them to set up watch of the river. He explained the plan just as it had been explained to him. They would attack the river boat that would arrive sometime near dawn, and land right at the sandy outcropping.

The archers would sit high on the cliff while Dent and two others would board the boat when the guards on the boat either gave chase to the archers, or were dead. They would grab the boy and meet back at the siege camp. He reiterated a number of times how the boat driver was not to be harmed.

Each man understood his role. Dent unrolled his bed roll and fell asleep.
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All plans...[18+]

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The men were in place. They had spotted the boat in plenty of time to set their trap. The archers had set up some tinder atop the cliff near their firing positions. They had a small flask that carried a liquid that would ignite the wood when poured on it. They had also coated some of their arrows in another oily substance. They would light the fire, and ignite the arrow heads and fire them at the ship if they had to.

Dent and the Calimshite ranger had taken up a spot in some brush that was within a stones throw downstream of the sandbar. The sandbar made a small lagoon in the river. It was perfect for docking a river boat.

Just as planned the river boat turned into the lagoon. The boat was made of a light colored cedar. It measured just over 10 meters long and a little more than half that wide. It had a flat bottom and high curving sides and had a high stem that was elaborately carved. There was a square cabin that was just off center toward the stern, and a large rudder. It had an elaborate rope truss tied to a mast that was stem side of the cabin that held a sail that was tied down. The ship was small for ocean travel, but it seemed as if it could be used for short sea trips as well as on the river.

Three men could be seen on the bow preparing for the land fall. They settled the front corner of the boat on the sand, and started to weigh in an anchor. Before one of the larger men could throw out the hook, arrows from atop the cliff started to rain down toward him. He dropped to the deck. The archers completely missed their mark, and each of the men remained unhurt by the first volley. Startled, they ran into the cabin. The rudder operator slunk down behind the cabin, and entered through a small hatch.

There was a pregnant pause and all was silent. The waves slapped the side of boat, and some doves cooed from a palm tree. Dent looked at the ranger, and shook his head.

“Now what…?” The guide whispered in a thick accent.

Dent just looked at him with a blank stare and shook his head again.

The peace was broken when the archers began yelling from the cliff. Dent watched for the door to the cabin to swing open. He had expected some sort of retaliation at any moment. He tensed his muscles…then, nothing. The boat began to spin off the sand bar, with the current.

The archers lit the fires, and began to ignite the arrows when Dent jumped up, and waved them off. Dent then ran toward the boat and into the river up to his knees. He hefted his axe high and swung at the bow of the boat. His first couple of swings bounced off the sturdy wood, but his third sunk deep enough to send a trickle of water into the bow. With that, a woman screamed from inside the cabin and began a large commotion. Dent swung on the ship a few more times and the flow of water increased, but would still take hours before it might sink the boat. Still, more yelling could be heard from the cabin, and finally the door flung open. The two larger men that had been on the bow rushed out of the cabin armed and ready. The archers open fire on them. Dent started to make his way to dry land for a better place from which to fight.

The guards ignored Dent, jumped from the vessel, and rushed toward the cliff. The archers fired, and finally were able down one of the guards. As the second guard turned back toward the boat, Dent hefted a throwing axe at him hitting him square in the chest.

Dent and the ranger made their way onto the boat, and rushed the cabin. Only the boatman remained. Dent grabbed him and demanded that he be given the child. The boatman pointed to a corner of the cabin to where a woman laid shackled. She stared up at the boatman furiously.

She was naked except for a sheer gown that was drenched in sweat. Her complexion gave her away as Clamishite. She had an athletic and sturdy body that rivaled Dent's, hazel-green eyes, and black hair. Dent was almost awestruck. This woman was beautiful, Dent thought. Even as beautiful as Holly, the temptress of the Auril worshipers that Blaize had followed around in a trance. Dent found himself staring, and he felt immediately drawn to this woman. He was snapped back into the situation when the woman began to scream to have her chains cut.

“Where is the child?” Dent urgently questioned the boatman, again.

The boatman began explaining in Alzhedo, the language of Calimshan.

“What is he saying, Aliz?” Dent queried the guide.

“He says that there is no child…just the woman” Aliz replied.

“Liar!” woman screamed.

The boatman turned toward the woman, confused as she sprung up from the floor and wrapped her chains around the boatman’s neck. Before Dent could react she grabbed a knife from the man’s belt and plunged it into his back. She swiftly removed the blade from his back and slit his throat. She then dropped the blade and knelt on the floor, and began sobbing. She crawled towards Dent and look up at him with tears in her eyes. He could see bruising on her limbs.

“He defiled me!” She spat at the boatman.

Dent helped the woman to her feet and she sank into his arms. A strong smell of perfume washed over him. The woman looked deep into Dent’s eyes.

“I am sorry. He was an evil man! He killed the boy and dumped his body in the river! They were going to sell me in Calimport as a slave! They…” She explained frantically. She rested her head on Dent’s chest, and could say no more.

An immediate feeling of anger came over Dent. He snatched up the body of the boatman and found the key to the woman’s chains. He handed the key to Aliz, and hefted the boatman over the side of the ship.

“The girl comes with us!” Dent commanded.
Last edited by Lokan on Sun May 30, 2010 6:31 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Why do you trust this boy?

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“Why do you trust this boy, Novander? We should have sent someone with more experience.” The monk stated as he looked up from the map the two had been drawing plans upon.

“He will succeed. The boat was not guarded heavily and the boatman will do as he was told.” The paladin gently reiterated to the monk as he removed his silver rimmed reading glasses.

“Yes, yes…he has enough men for the job and it has been well planned, but he could do all manner of things even if he manages to obtain the child. The monk continued.

The child they referred to was the recently kidnapped son and heir to the Pasha of Keltar. The city was of little consequence for Calimshan as a whole, but it did hold some power because of the huge monastery.

“The House of the Broken God sat in the center of the town, and is connected, via a series of walled gardens, to a temple farm on a hill northwest of Keltar, a walled leper house beyond that, and a sanitarium beyond that. Here Revered Father of the House Melder Rythtin of the Healing Hand, who is famous for his diagnoses and miraculous treatments of the afflicted, presides over the largest hospital and facility for brewing, concocting, and compounding medicines in Faerûn. Those unfriendly to Calimshan have commented that such a facility is located where it is because the cruelty of the Calishites makes it most needed in their realm—but they are too greedy and disgusted by the sick, the malformed, and the injured to allow such a place in their proud capital city.” When the various Pashas across Calimshan need to put on a face of good will toward their people, they would often call on the monastery. They would also use the monastery more nefariuosly by sending “mysteriously afflicted” troublemakers or competitors to live out the remainder of their short lives in Keltar. Because of the good will the monastery provided and the access to secrets that other Pashas of Calimshan would wish to bury there, The Pasha of Keltar frequently had an advantage in the political games of the region.

The small army of Illmater needed the backing of that Pasha. The siege of the smaller two forts had taken more of a toll on the force than Novander had hoped, and the siege of the black temple had been halted by powerful protective spells. Also, they had cut off the temple from any resupply by surrounding it, but Novander’s own supply lines would run out soon, as well. They needed the help of mages that the Pasha of Keltar could provide, and his son was the key.

Novander had luckily brought with him from Cormyr a number of travelers who had joined with the highly secretive group known as the Harpers. They had learned that the child had been taken and was probably being used as leverage to hold off any help that the Pasha would provide to the Illmatari. They also learned that the boy would be moved to Calimport by boat. They managed to find and recruit the boatman that would carry the boy south, and informed Novander. Novander thought that it would be best to leave the group in Keltar than to send them south to intercept the boat. He chose Dent to complete the rescue.

“Dent will not fail, Merkish.” He plainly told the monk.

“Why do you trust him the way you do? You have not spent so much time with one soldier in this way for some time. His training occupied some crucial moments on the trip from Baldurs Gate” The monk pressed.

“Illmater has touched the boy. I have seen it in him. It was ever so brief but the Broken god has set his gaze on him.” The paladin explained.

“I have sensed some thing very different, Painbearer. I sense that Illmater has touched him, yes, but I also sense that he has not yet made up his mind about the boy. Illmater has put him on a path, but the boy still has too many roads yet to take. It’s as if all the gods have left him wonder.” The monk stated.

“And that is why I have spent so much time in him, and place my trust in him now. The boy has spent too much time godless, and unaware of his own surroundings. He is on the verge of finding the good in himself, holding onto it, and using it well in the name of Illmater. It is our duty to complete that path with him.” The Paladin replied.

“This is agreed, but here… I think you gamble”
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Re: An evening on the farm [18+ Possible]

Post by Swift »

Great stuff!
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Re: An evening on the farm [18+ Possible]

Post by Lokan »

Swift wrote:Great stuff!
thank you, Swift! I was starting to think there was noone listening. :lol: That means alot coming from you, I have read every one of your stories and look forward to more.
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You are a lion! [18+]

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A shadowy figure of a catlike creature slashed at Dent with its razor sharp claws. Dent swung his axe wildly as goblins and spiders pierced his skin. All went dark.

Dent could hear himself breathing, and searched with his hands in the blackness. He closed his eyes to try to get his wits about him. When he reopened them the light of the sun blinded him. He blinked until he regained his vision.

He stood on what seemed to be a cliff face high above a crystal blue ocean. Before him were three immeasurably large floating mountains surrounding an even greater one. They gleamed like gold, and were bathed in holy light. Blue water flowed off them in huge water falls into the crystal sea. All was surrounded by an infinite blue sky.

A small object left from atop a brilliant white marble watchtower on one of the distant floating mountains and flew towards Dent. The object quickly became larger as it approached. Soon, Dent identified it as an enormous gauntlet-ed hand. At the center of the hand was a great eye. The gauntlet scooped Dent up, and dropped him… plummeting him into the sea.

Helm is the word he heard next…Helm?
Last edited by Lokan on Fri Jun 11, 2010 9:35 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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You are a lion [continued] [18+]

Post by Lokan »

Dent awoke to the sound of his own screaming. He reached for his axe and jumped to his feet. The fire next to him was nothing more than embers. Selune and her tears sat high in the sky surrounded by the many stars. The desert air was still warm. Dents eyes searched the darkness beyond the small amount of light given from the embers.

“You had a nightmare.”

Dent twisted toward the sultry deep voice of the rescued slave woman.

“Why are you not on in the cabin?” Dent interrogated the woman as she approached.

The group had ridden for a day and a night. They had chosen a path nearer to the river and go as far north as the supply route to the siege encampment before they would again head west. This route took longer, but was probably safer than moving through the thick of the desert sands. They had found a small abandoned cabin near the river, and chose to rest there.

“I heard screaming and came out to see if you were alright” The woman explained as she reached the fire pit and knelt down to stoke the fire.

“Where is your guard?” Dent continued the questioning.

“They have fallen asleep. I think you drive them a bit harshly” She said.

A small flame followed the ascending sparks of the embers as the woman slowly blew into the fire. Dent stared at the woman. The light of the flame danced about her face. Her dark black hair hung in strands of dread locks in front of her eyes.

Dent felt something strong for this woman. He had been sheltered by many emotions when his mother had hold of his mind. It was like he had to learn about how to live all over again. He felt as though he had to take account of each new emotion. He would frequently be confused when he felt something new, like hate, or fear. He had already felt things like love of his parents, grief for his father, and the friendship of Ragnus and the others, but he never understood women, or the scheming minds of his fellow humans.

He knew that lady Gwenevere was pretty as well as the herbalist Arsa and the Ice queen worshiper, Holly, but never understood why he felt that way. But, with this woman came a new feeling, and as with many other new feelings, and ideas he has had to learn or relearn with the fog lifted from his mind, he would have to learn how to use it. He was more careful with what he said or did. Even with his mind free he never quite knew if what he was seeing or feeling was real or something that had a hold of him.

“What do you want?” he asked.

She stood and approached him.

“You are all the worshipers of the Crying god, aren’t you?” she asked.

“Yes. I have been a faithful servant of Illmater since I met with one of his messengers. He came to me and offered me a choice to serve him. He told me that Illmater was mercy, and kindness, and strength. That’s what my ma always taught me to be. She said helping the weak is what the strong must do.” Dent explained.

“The strong help the weak?” She scoffed. “You are more than the pitiful servant of the sick and dying. You are a lion, a warrior!” She stood close to him now, and looked deep into his eyes. He could smell her perfume.

“What do you know of me?” Dents eyes gave him away, but gritted his teeth as he asked the question.

“I know that you are greater than all of this scampering about in the desert; fighting battles for others, so that they can simply give the spoils away to those who where too weak to help themselves. I see it in you.” He could feel hear breath as she spoke.

“How do you know what I do?” he asked.

“I have heard of what is happening. You look for that son of the Pasha. You wish to save him.” She answered.

Dent dropped his gaze.

“But I failed” He admitted.

“You did not fail. It was the weak men of the Broken one that sent you on this fools errand who have failed.” She spoke slowly and reached for his arm.

“You know nothing of Illmater or of Novander!” Dent yelled back at her.

“And what will you do about it? You are a caged lion, waiting to be set free, but the chains of your weak masters hold you back!” She looked at him smugly.

“Enough!” Dent smacked the woman across the face. She twisted around and giggled as she wiped blood from her lip with the back of her hand.

“You see..a lion!” She rushed Dent and grabbed him by the throat, and at the same time swept his leg from under him. He hit the ground hard, but reached up and grabbed the woman by the hair and dragged her over him. He wrapped her arms up and squeezed her. She swung her head back in pain from the bear hug, and began to chuckle, but could not move from his grasp.

“Now what will you do?” he returned the smug glance.

She kissed him full on the mouth as hard as she could. He could do nothing but except her mouth onto his. She then reared her head back and smashed her forehead on to his nose. He threw her to the ground and resumed the kiss.

They continued the foray until both were bleeding and disrobed. Dent had never “been” with a woman in this way before…
Last edited by Lokan on Tue Jul 06, 2010 8:38 pm, edited 5 times in total.
Current PC: IS NOT Dent Jars
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Lokan
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The box

Post by Lokan »

The sun peeked over the horizon and blazed into the desert sky. The slave woman eyes blinked to life.

“And how was your night my lio……” She began to say as she rolled over and suddenly stopped only to find that her feet and hands were again restrained.

“Whatever your game my lady, you will be taken to Novander.” Dent said, as he was already preparing to leave the camp.

“Sir…look, here!” The guide beckoned Dent toward the great desert sands.

“A fire path” The guide continued as Dent arrived at his side. He pointed toward a small rock pathway that had been revealed by the shifting sands in the night. The rocks glowed red, and intermittently seemed to produce tiny flames.

“Interesting Aliz; What is it?” Dent asked.

“It is a fire path..of the genasi. Something has activated its magic, and the desert has revealed it to us. I think we might find something to help us to battle our enemies if we follow this path. This is a signal to hidden magical things.” The guide explained.

A long and devastating war had been fought in ancient Calimshan between the Efreets, creatures from the elemental plane of fire, and the Djinn or Djinni (genie) of the plane of air. In the wake of the war many of the inhabitants revealed themselves to be genasi, the human derived descendents of these elemental plane beings who fought with either the Efreets or the Djinn.

The genasi were known to hide items that could be used to fight their enemies, especially when movement through the desert was critical. These items have since become sources of riches or power for those who might find them in the shifting sands.

Dent stood pondering the path for a moment.

“Put the woman in the wagon, and gather some provisions. We will follow behind you, Aliz, at a distance.” Dent instructed.

The group had discovered a small wagon and had attached some palm branches to it to block the heat of the sun. They filled water skins with as much as they could carry, and took a few moments to catch some fish from the river before they left camp.

Within an hour the group came upon a rocky outcropping. Aliz had dug at the sand where the small fiery rock path ended. There he found a large rounded stone. The men gathered together and pushed to stone to one side. Beneath the stone was a cavity that held a silver rectangular box. The box was about 42 inches long, 36 inches wide and 12 inches deep. It has inscriptions that none of the men could read. It seemed to be a solid piece of silver, with no opening.

“This is amazing, Aliz! Even if its not a magic device, it might be worth enough to buy some allies!” Dent exclaimed.

“Quickly, get it into the wagon, we are headed directly to the camp” Dent ordered.
Last edited by Lokan on Tue Jun 15, 2010 6:05 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Current PC: IS NOT Dent Jars
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The battle begins

Post by Lokan »

The group had traveled roughly a day in the desert heat. During the journey, Dent pondered how a place where you could feel so much of Lathanders power could be so god forsaken at the same time. At one point the heat upon them was so intense that Dent could feel a chill upon him.

Auril…he thought…No matter how hot it might be she will always find a way to remind you that she is just a breath away.

This thought reminded Dent of the first time he had encountered Xujja of White-Pines .
Dent had mistaken him for an elf, and the Tiefling had to explain to Dent the great differences in the two races, as well as how elves might take great offense to the idea that he could be confused for one of them. During their discussion, Xujja told Dent that the key to getting what he wanted, such as gaining coin for the bathhouse or getting back home, was to kill and take what he could from those he had killed.

Maybe the Tiefling meant it, or maybe he was making commentary about the violence of humans, and the idiocy of Dent, but at the time it seemed reasonable to Dent. His life might have turned to that kind of savagery if it were not for the likes of Laque, Ragnus, and Blaise. But, perhaps he still wasn’t that far from it. That idea scared him. Perhaps he had been gone too long.

By the time they had reached camp the sun had set yet again. They had doubled up on riders, and packed the large silver box onto on of the animals. They could not pull the wagon through the sand any further and had decided to leave it. The slave woman road with Dent, and had not as much raised a comment on the ride to the siege base camp. The touch of her arms as she held onto him and smell of her hair as she placed her head on his shoulder comforted him.

It comforts me too much, he thought.

For as much as he felt as ease with this woman, he felt desire for her, as well as a strange uneasiness that she might knife him in his sleep.

As they arrived, Aliz instructed the other men to report back to their commanders, he lead his horse as well as the one carrying the silver box toward the tent of Novander. Dent rode along behind him. The group looked back and could see that there had already been some heavy fighting near the temple wall. Both armies were amidst regrouping for another imminent confrontation.

Dent sat up in his saddle took a moment to take note of the activity in the valley made by the enormous sand dunes which cradled and hid the ancient dark temple. In the failing light there was again chaos. Preparations and movement of troops, magic, flames, steel…all of it danced in before them. Behind the walls of the temple dark shadows moved about erratically, and vile screams and battle chants could be heard. The Loviatari were no doubt torturing not only whomever they held captive, but also themselves in the hopes of receiving the dark blessings of Loviatar.

Dent began to study the wall of the temple more carefully. It appeared that Novander’s army had succeeded in opening a large gap in the west wall. Just behind that wall was a huge mountain of sand, from the top of which Novander’s scouts could look down into the temples courtyards, and grounds, but tonight there were no signal fires from that area.

We have lost some advantage, Dent thought as he tried to show no sign of worry.

“What do you see, my lion?” The woman whispered in Dents ear.

“Nothing” He swiftly replied and kicked his horse in order to catch up with the guide.
Last edited by Lokan on Tue Jul 06, 2010 8:44 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Current PC: IS NOT Dent Jars
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Re: An evening on the farm [18+ Possible]

Post by Lokan »

btw I would like to dedicate the stories to my wife, whom i miss very much :oops: :D
Current PC: IS NOT Dent Jars
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