Sarkhan
10-27-2012, 11:52 AM
************* Part 4. http://www.project1999.org/forums/showpost.php?p=892619&postcount=18 **********
The crackling of the fire did not register in the mind of the solitary scaled figure. Far down the rain pitter-pattered on the ground in the black night washing the filth of the city into the canals. The night was dark as clouds covered the moon and buildings were barely visible from the torches set outside their entrances casting shadows that danced across the walls.
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Wet footsteps broke through the silence and as the lizardman opened his eyes he could see the smoke trickle out of the mouth of the small alcove that he had made his home. Moving to the edge of his camp the landscape opened up before him, painfully reminding him of the sorry state of his once great race. The tall powerful structure of the Tower of Death was the only impressive piece of architecture in view, the rest of West Cabilis looked bleak. Before him lay the canals leading to a pool and near that pool many merchants tents were set.
A few merchants still sat beneath their tent, huddled near a roaring fire peddling their wares which varied from cloth and rhino hide armor to fletching materials and general goods or for those heavy of coin, ivory weapons could be purchased to help smash your foes.
Scanning the merchant’s yard he quickly found the source of the footsteps and saw a young soldier with a pike strapped to his back searching for someone.
One of the vendors, a female named Lybar stood outside her tent and pointed to the cliffs where the young soldier far below spotted the glow from a fire and a tall silhouette.
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“Warlord Sarkhan, its time” shouted the soldier from below. The next moment the warlord had disappeared from the soldier’s sight only to appear next to him on a cliff ledge to his left.
“Hail and well met, Soldier. What is your name and state your business while you’re at it.” The stern strong voice of a leader called out, breaking through the pounding of the rain.
“Nokrin, at your service. Sir, the War Baron has agreed to your request. The troops have assembled and have departed already, they wait for us in the swamp.” Nokrin paused, almost hesitant to continue,
“There is one thing. . . Your request for a battalion was denied. The war baron has decided the goblins pose too much threat and refused to pull troopers from Warslik’s woods defenses, while Warlord Hikyg refused to give up any from the swamp’s outposts. The thing is –“ Nokrin’s voice trailed off to silence as he noticed the stern glare Sarkhan shot him.
“Enough, I understand. Just tell me how many” asked the warlord.
“Ten, and yourself”, Nokrin replied, hesitantly.
“Then let us be off” Sarkhan jumped off the cliff ledge and landed beside Nokrin. They set off at a brisk pace.
The elves had been growing a problem of late. Their scouts had been seen much too close to Cabilis for the legion to tolerate and their blades and arrows had been cutting bloody trails out of Kunarks wilderness in attempts to tame the savage lands.
Goblins were daring to venture closer to the walls of the iksar city in attempts to flee the elves and to make matters worse, the elven outpost of Firiona Vie had just started more commercial sailing from their homeland sending would be adventurers all across the lands of Kunark.
With the increase of travellers, Sarkhan was finally given the go ahead to push back the elven scouts – though he had other plans in mind.
War was out of his reach, the War Baron had denied him that, but there were other things he could do besides.
Leaving West Cabilis, Sarkhan and Nokrin walked in silence. Nokrin looked nervous, he was a young warrior indeed and the events ahead were treacherous and Sarkhan thought it unlikely that he would survive. The warrior would be better off doing personal favours or quests from the trainers to achieve his next rank and pike, but perhaps he was more adventurous that Sarkhan gave him credit for.
As they passed the market of East Cabilis the rushing water and familiar smell of roast froglok reminded Sarkhan of his childhood; sitting silently in the open hot day as his mother haggled with a wealthy patron over camp provisions and an ornately runed fighters staff that his father had looted off a corpse in one of his many escapades beyond the walls of Cabilis.
Now though, as he looked out over the market the place looked dreary with worn-down tents flapping in the wind and rain with night all around. They passed the market without so much as a pause as they made their way to straight out the city gates giving a quick glance and nod to the troopers as they departed the city.
As they left the troopers saluted them in respect, it was often those that left did not return.
Fifteen minutes out and they spotted their camp. A perimeter of troopers could be seen. With the warriors setting perimeter, the shaman should not be far off, holding main camp with his entourage of knights. Slowing to a stop, sarkhan and Nokrin looked over the camp ahead. Impatiently the young warrior continued on and as a branch snapped underfoot the twang of a bow had Nokrin’s heart pounding as an arrow embedded itself in a tree beside him that would have been his heart had not Sarkhan pulled him back by the scruff of the neck.
“Hail and well met! Put down your bow and greet your lord properly! “ Letting go of the young warrior, Sarkhan pulled the arrow from the tree and proceeded to the camp. After meeting up with Jassy, a veteran trooper of the legion, she quickly led them back to the main camp.
“Thought you were bandits, won’t happen ‘gain” She promised as they approached the camp. Placing two fingers to her scaled lips she let out a shrill whistle before they entered camp.
As they approached a familiar and unexpected face appeared out from the shaman’s tent. A wide grin played itself across Sarkhan’s face as he hailed his twin, hatched from the same egg.
“Hail and well met, Sacraxiles! It has been too long. When did you arrive back in Cabilis?”
“Oh, not too long ago. Just soon enough to hear you were off to chase some scouts… Or at least that’s what they say. I figured I’d join up, I’m sure you’ll make the excitement worth my while.” As the shaman grinned his eyes gave off a bluish glow.
The night was quiet and nobody bothered the camp. A few froglok fishermen were sighted but they bounded off and hid themselves in the murky swamp. The older lizardmen who had seen many seasons of battle only chuckled at the nervousness of the young recruit. Nokrin was the entertainment of the night which gave rise to more than a few pranks including but not limited to leeches making their way to the most unwelcomed of places.
They passed the night with ale in celebration of the beginning of an adventure as is the proper way to start any adventure in case it be the last sip of ale you have. Jassy grinned as she gulped down half a bottle of pale ale then leaned back contently, warmed by the fire.
“I’ve not been to the Tink in ages” she exclaimed “This is far better though. Only thing better than spilling ale with a troop is spilling elf’s blood with a blade!” She shouted as the rest roared with agreement.
Though the war baron didn’t provide many troops, he certainly gave Sarkhan quality ones far overqualified for the menial task of killing a few scouts.
The legionnaires claimed the fire this night as the knights were on duty guarding the perimeter. Within the group by the fire was the warlord Sarkhan; a warrior who had gained recognition and fame within the ranks for his many ventures against the enemies of the empire.
Sarkhan’s twin, Sacraxiles, who was a mystic from the Temple also sat with them. When first the twins hatched they were given as sacrifice to the Faceless due to the oddity of their birth. The temple, instead of sacrifice, took Sacraxiles as apprentice while Sarkhan was sent back to await the age of rebirth for when he would join the Legion.
Nokrin, a newer recruit, was still young and trying to work his way up the ranks of the legion.
The other new recruit was Endo, a male warrior that for some reason didn’t carry any pike at all. He was quieter, a loner who separated himself from the group and watched the older ones drink from a distance.
Jassy was known to Sarkhan. She was a tall strong female who had earned all her pikes and a few scars as well. She signed up immediately upon hearing the quest as she still held a grudge against the elves after an expedition into the past saw her mate killed by an elven blade.
The other three troopers were Sulam, Corye and Allindor – all three had served dutifully on the walls and various outposts across Kunark. Sulam, a female of regular height sat recounting tales of past battles to Corye and Allindor who were two males that had shown their skills and returned with treasures from excursions into Torsis, the city of mist.
Whilst the warriors drank and enjoyed the first night outside the walls and outside their duties, the crusaders took this night as turn to guard the camp.
Two males, Likkarn and Emakrosk were sent by the Temple to join the warriors, no doubt to claim the glory for Cazic-Thule’s mystics if the expedition was a success. Originally Tarntak was the only shaman for the campaign until Sacraxiles joined in. The last crusader was Tayreya, a female crusader who took up the quest when the call for volunteers rang out.
And so their quest had begun. Though none knew it, for most, it would be their last.
The crackling of the fire did not register in the mind of the solitary scaled figure. Far down the rain pitter-pattered on the ground in the black night washing the filth of the city into the canals. The night was dark as clouds covered the moon and buildings were barely visible from the torches set outside their entrances casting shadows that danced across the walls.
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Wet footsteps broke through the silence and as the lizardman opened his eyes he could see the smoke trickle out of the mouth of the small alcove that he had made his home. Moving to the edge of his camp the landscape opened up before him, painfully reminding him of the sorry state of his once great race. The tall powerful structure of the Tower of Death was the only impressive piece of architecture in view, the rest of West Cabilis looked bleak. Before him lay the canals leading to a pool and near that pool many merchants tents were set.
A few merchants still sat beneath their tent, huddled near a roaring fire peddling their wares which varied from cloth and rhino hide armor to fletching materials and general goods or for those heavy of coin, ivory weapons could be purchased to help smash your foes.
Scanning the merchant’s yard he quickly found the source of the footsteps and saw a young soldier with a pike strapped to his back searching for someone.
One of the vendors, a female named Lybar stood outside her tent and pointed to the cliffs where the young soldier far below spotted the glow from a fire and a tall silhouette.
<a href="http://imgur.com/yUDC5"><img src="http://i.imgur.com/yUDC5.jpg" alt="" title="Hosted by imgur.com" /></a>
“Warlord Sarkhan, its time” shouted the soldier from below. The next moment the warlord had disappeared from the soldier’s sight only to appear next to him on a cliff ledge to his left.
“Hail and well met, Soldier. What is your name and state your business while you’re at it.” The stern strong voice of a leader called out, breaking through the pounding of the rain.
“Nokrin, at your service. Sir, the War Baron has agreed to your request. The troops have assembled and have departed already, they wait for us in the swamp.” Nokrin paused, almost hesitant to continue,
“There is one thing. . . Your request for a battalion was denied. The war baron has decided the goblins pose too much threat and refused to pull troopers from Warslik’s woods defenses, while Warlord Hikyg refused to give up any from the swamp’s outposts. The thing is –“ Nokrin’s voice trailed off to silence as he noticed the stern glare Sarkhan shot him.
“Enough, I understand. Just tell me how many” asked the warlord.
“Ten, and yourself”, Nokrin replied, hesitantly.
“Then let us be off” Sarkhan jumped off the cliff ledge and landed beside Nokrin. They set off at a brisk pace.
The elves had been growing a problem of late. Their scouts had been seen much too close to Cabilis for the legion to tolerate and their blades and arrows had been cutting bloody trails out of Kunarks wilderness in attempts to tame the savage lands.
Goblins were daring to venture closer to the walls of the iksar city in attempts to flee the elves and to make matters worse, the elven outpost of Firiona Vie had just started more commercial sailing from their homeland sending would be adventurers all across the lands of Kunark.
With the increase of travellers, Sarkhan was finally given the go ahead to push back the elven scouts – though he had other plans in mind.
War was out of his reach, the War Baron had denied him that, but there were other things he could do besides.
Leaving West Cabilis, Sarkhan and Nokrin walked in silence. Nokrin looked nervous, he was a young warrior indeed and the events ahead were treacherous and Sarkhan thought it unlikely that he would survive. The warrior would be better off doing personal favours or quests from the trainers to achieve his next rank and pike, but perhaps he was more adventurous that Sarkhan gave him credit for.
As they passed the market of East Cabilis the rushing water and familiar smell of roast froglok reminded Sarkhan of his childhood; sitting silently in the open hot day as his mother haggled with a wealthy patron over camp provisions and an ornately runed fighters staff that his father had looted off a corpse in one of his many escapades beyond the walls of Cabilis.
Now though, as he looked out over the market the place looked dreary with worn-down tents flapping in the wind and rain with night all around. They passed the market without so much as a pause as they made their way to straight out the city gates giving a quick glance and nod to the troopers as they departed the city.
As they left the troopers saluted them in respect, it was often those that left did not return.
Fifteen minutes out and they spotted their camp. A perimeter of troopers could be seen. With the warriors setting perimeter, the shaman should not be far off, holding main camp with his entourage of knights. Slowing to a stop, sarkhan and Nokrin looked over the camp ahead. Impatiently the young warrior continued on and as a branch snapped underfoot the twang of a bow had Nokrin’s heart pounding as an arrow embedded itself in a tree beside him that would have been his heart had not Sarkhan pulled him back by the scruff of the neck.
“Hail and well met! Put down your bow and greet your lord properly! “ Letting go of the young warrior, Sarkhan pulled the arrow from the tree and proceeded to the camp. After meeting up with Jassy, a veteran trooper of the legion, she quickly led them back to the main camp.
“Thought you were bandits, won’t happen ‘gain” She promised as they approached the camp. Placing two fingers to her scaled lips she let out a shrill whistle before they entered camp.
As they approached a familiar and unexpected face appeared out from the shaman’s tent. A wide grin played itself across Sarkhan’s face as he hailed his twin, hatched from the same egg.
“Hail and well met, Sacraxiles! It has been too long. When did you arrive back in Cabilis?”
“Oh, not too long ago. Just soon enough to hear you were off to chase some scouts… Or at least that’s what they say. I figured I’d join up, I’m sure you’ll make the excitement worth my while.” As the shaman grinned his eyes gave off a bluish glow.
The night was quiet and nobody bothered the camp. A few froglok fishermen were sighted but they bounded off and hid themselves in the murky swamp. The older lizardmen who had seen many seasons of battle only chuckled at the nervousness of the young recruit. Nokrin was the entertainment of the night which gave rise to more than a few pranks including but not limited to leeches making their way to the most unwelcomed of places.
They passed the night with ale in celebration of the beginning of an adventure as is the proper way to start any adventure in case it be the last sip of ale you have. Jassy grinned as she gulped down half a bottle of pale ale then leaned back contently, warmed by the fire.
“I’ve not been to the Tink in ages” she exclaimed “This is far better though. Only thing better than spilling ale with a troop is spilling elf’s blood with a blade!” She shouted as the rest roared with agreement.
Though the war baron didn’t provide many troops, he certainly gave Sarkhan quality ones far overqualified for the menial task of killing a few scouts.
The legionnaires claimed the fire this night as the knights were on duty guarding the perimeter. Within the group by the fire was the warlord Sarkhan; a warrior who had gained recognition and fame within the ranks for his many ventures against the enemies of the empire.
Sarkhan’s twin, Sacraxiles, who was a mystic from the Temple also sat with them. When first the twins hatched they were given as sacrifice to the Faceless due to the oddity of their birth. The temple, instead of sacrifice, took Sacraxiles as apprentice while Sarkhan was sent back to await the age of rebirth for when he would join the Legion.
Nokrin, a newer recruit, was still young and trying to work his way up the ranks of the legion.
The other new recruit was Endo, a male warrior that for some reason didn’t carry any pike at all. He was quieter, a loner who separated himself from the group and watched the older ones drink from a distance.
Jassy was known to Sarkhan. She was a tall strong female who had earned all her pikes and a few scars as well. She signed up immediately upon hearing the quest as she still held a grudge against the elves after an expedition into the past saw her mate killed by an elven blade.
The other three troopers were Sulam, Corye and Allindor – all three had served dutifully on the walls and various outposts across Kunark. Sulam, a female of regular height sat recounting tales of past battles to Corye and Allindor who were two males that had shown their skills and returned with treasures from excursions into Torsis, the city of mist.
Whilst the warriors drank and enjoyed the first night outside the walls and outside their duties, the crusaders took this night as turn to guard the camp.
Two males, Likkarn and Emakrosk were sent by the Temple to join the warriors, no doubt to claim the glory for Cazic-Thule’s mystics if the expedition was a success. Originally Tarntak was the only shaman for the campaign until Sacraxiles joined in. The last crusader was Tayreya, a female crusader who took up the quest when the call for volunteers rang out.
And so their quest had begun. Though none knew it, for most, it would be their last.