18 Lamashan 4709 AR
A Cave in Kortos
We ran out of the cavern and were well on our way to the exit when I stopped everyone and convinced them that it was probably a very small green dragon (judging by the size of the lair) and that we had, after all, come to look for treasure, which dragons collect. Tythe and Deaglan were ready to go back then— it took a bit of convincing to get Salma to go, and then, I think she just wanted to make sure we all survived the visit.
We walked quietly back into the cavern, and then I crept up to the edge of the lake— the dragon burst out of the water and bit me— hard. I was lucky that Salma was keeping track of me. In addition to keeping me on my feet, she used some divine intervention that increased my strength (and size)— it didn’t help my aim, but I can see that being a useful ability in the future.
We all fought the dragon, which battered us with its wings, claws, teeth and breath, and just when I thought we could fight no longer, it backed into the lake and swam away. Deaglan leapt in after it, swimming under the water some 60’ till he found its real lair— and he was sure he saw piles of coins. He returned to get us and we swam back with him to fight the dragon a bit more; this time we slew the accursed beast.
Among the bones of those who had fought and died on this beach, we found quite a lot of coins, as well as some magical weapons and armor (which my companions plan to use). I am not sure I want to use a magical weapon, though it might have made fighting a dragon a wee bit easier.
The King’s Lands, perhaps to you the Land of the Linnorm Kings, among the Ulfen Tribes, is where Candal was born. Candal, as a boy, possessed neither the innate strength nor size of his fellows. Though this often landed him on the wrong side of confrontations, it is perhaps fortunate for him that he did not stand out. Though he cannot remember how it started, perhaps it was a feud over grazing land or someone’s daughter was despoiled, it matters not. In the end blood was shed, and the feud embroiled the land in chaos. Many left to join the fray, singing always into the din of battle, their voices echoing the madness and horror of it all.
Now to a young boy, a sword is a mighty thing, wrought out of steel and cast in blood. Knowing not yet the loss of family or friends, Candal watched the men practice with many weapons, but it was the sword, one particular sword, that called to him.
Many, many years ago, now the elder of Candals’ tribe, Asborn, had watched the sky. One night, while staring into the abyss, contemplating his mortality and the glory of battle, he noticed something. A fiery beacon of light coming from the northwest; the sky burned as it descended, and the earth shook when it crashed into the mountain side. Taking it as a sign of some import, Ashborn sought out where this object had landed. All knew Ashborn’s story, for it was the song he sung in battle, of how he found the star-metal, seduced the maiden, and with the metal still molten from it’s traumatic decent, forged his great runic sword.
As it happened, a priestess of Torag, among the mountains and one of the Sky Maidens, had foretold the coming of the star, but of more import: that someone would seek to cast from it a weapon. She was compelled to help, though she would not see the benefit in her lifetime. The sword in the right hands would have the chance to right the wrongs that had been committed recently, the depravity and destruction which welled throughout the kingdom. So she went forth on her mount, swift they are, the Pegasi, and also sought out too the earthly resting place of the star. The man would not survive molten landscape, to forge the blessed sword which Torag had commanded from the sky.
And so, when Ashborn reached the landing site, he found not what he expected. If you were to believe his song, something wildly inappropriate happened that night. Candal doubted that Ashborn’s tale, for he was reputed to turn even the most common story into one of epic proportions. But of one thing all were sure, the blade was, well, different. Blackwand, so named for it’s unnatural color, back as midnight, and it seemed to melt into the darkness.
As the feud which embroiled the country side came to a close, Candal was the sole survivor. Being still a boy, and smaller than his fellows, the raiders didn’t notice him as he hid in the barn, as they feasted on his tribe’s village. Too many cups of mead they drank that night to assuage the pang of their comrades lost. They did not notice as he crept to where they had nailed Ashborn to a tree. Not yet dead, Ashborn imparted in his clans only survivor where he had hidden thrown his sword.
Needless to say, the young boy left the village and was eventually adopted by a clan of dwarves. Among the dwarves he grew up, and though traumatized by his loss, learned to live again. Live, that is without thinking of only vengeance. His family among the dwarves was small, though he did have a brother there, a headstrong dwarf named Thorab. Though it took a while, dwarves are reputed to be stubborn folk, eventually Thorab and Candal became fast friends.
When grown, they both went to join the service of Torag at one of his temples. Temple does not quite describe this place, for truly it was more of a fortress, being where the Paladin’s of the light trained. Studying for many years there, among the servants of Torag, they grew in mind and body. Candal and Thorab become some of the most talented men there. Thorab though, deep in study, found among the tomes a small trinket. Something in that small medallion called to Thorab, compelled him to don it. If only he had not put it on, for it slowly corrupted his soul.
No one noticed at first; it was only a small change, an irritation, a shorter temper. Eventually though, he turned away from the light, left the temple to gather followers to destroy the temple he had slowly learned to hate. Unaware of the depths of depravity which Thorab’s soul had sunk, Candal let Thorab go, thinking he just needed time to cool his temper and center himself.
Leading a dark army, Thorab returned several years later, and mounted an assault on the temple. Overwhelming was the force which assaulted the walls, and a small breach turned into a tide of invaders. The men defending the temple, fell back to the inner chapel to make their last stand. Thorab personally lead the charge into the chapel, relishing the opportunity to slay his so-called brother. On the marble steps the two of them fought, and shed their brothers blood. Candal, at the end, knew he would not win this battle, and so he reached out to his brother. Thorab, without pitty for his worthless half brother, ran him through. In what were to be Candal’s last moments in life, his hand fell apon his brother’s neck. Attempting to stay upright, he grasped something around his brother’s neck, tearing it free as he fell.
The amulet shattered as it fell to the floor, freeing Thorab from the compulsion of the soul trapped within; his dark army, conjured with the amulets power, dissipated in a heavy wind. Thorab’s mind though was shattered, for the intelligence inside the amulet was so intertwined with his own. He would not remember anything of his past, and those around him never thought it wise to explain to him the horrors he had committed.
It was in a bewildered Thorab’s arms, that the few survivors found Candal. Untrusting of Thorab, they no longer sensed evil within him. Fortunately, they were able to save the still young paladin in his arms. Candal, though he survived, could never bring himself to forgive his brother, and went on his own path, traveling the realms alone, as perhaps he was always meant to be. Why else did fate take everything from him? First though, he went to find the sword. He never forgot where it was hidden, inside the oak outside his village. Now a man, trained in battle, he traveled the land without fear, so unlike the boy he was when he last traveled these paths. Gathering the sword he set off to clear his mind.
And so it was that he wound up here; damn him. The fisherman had said, “go east, ya’ll ge there, e’ntualy”, so he had rented the blasted boat. He didn’t say anything about the boat thinking it would be just a bit easier to travel to the depths of the sea. No, he’d just taken the silver and smiled. No doubt, he was having a great, howling, laugh over this. The blasted boat wouldn’t go far in a puddle without needed a bailing can; no wait, a bailing barrel more likely. He managed though, arriving on the shore of the island: soaked, cold, and hungry with a half sunk boat…..
Character sheet: Candal [Human Paladin from the Lands of the Linnorm Kings]
Character sheet from Bewildered campaign: Thorab [Dwarven Paladin from the Lands of the Linnorm Kings]