A Warrior's Words: The Journals of Korg Ironhand

[Noa]

Korg Ironhand   
Blue Ribboned Barbarian
Posts: 46
(6/18/02 10:22 pm)
Reply  A Warrior's Words: The Journals of Korg Ironhand
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I write these words to be remembered. Either by myself in my later years, or maybe by some young ones that I have sired, or a wife I have loved. Or maybe even for some souls who are interested in the ramblings of a wandering warrior who thinks too much of the horizon to focus on what's right before him.

Whatever the case may be, I'm not putting these words down to paint quaint pictures in the minds of anyone. I am putting them down because I do not want to be forgotten. Simple enough, I suppose, but I feel that everyone has a story, and if looked at in the right light, every story has a meaning.

This is my story.

[Noa]

Korg Ironhand   
Blue Ribboned Barbarian
Posts: 47
(6/18/02 11:14 pm)
Reply  Re: A Warrior's Words: Lost in my own Faith
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I stood still as everything I ever knew began to tear at the seams. The sight was one that I will never forget. Disgusting, vile, cruel. And I had a hand in it.

The crew I had joined welcomed me with open arms. Ogres, mostly, with a couple of kin from halas in the mix. A troll, but I was always one to turn a blind eye to their features, and a deaf ear to their reputation. As long as they were not hurting me or anyone I cared for, I was able to look the other way since.... since as long as I can remember.

What drew us together so quickly? We all served the Warlord. Zek was our patron, and we knew each other as brothers in that respect almost on sight. My wandering had brought me to the plains of the West Karanas, and I saw the band of warriors working their weapons against the bandits. Save for the troll and another of the ogre, both being shaman, we were all warriors of Zek. The love of battle filled us, and I joined them with great pride as they laid into the bandits. Surely any who preyed on the weaker deserved to be treated in kind.

In the heat of the melee, I felt the pull of Zek's blessing on me. Zek's blessing... I thing we of the faith know as a rythum, an energy, that flows through you as you do nothing short of dance through your enemy's ranks and thin them out. A good battle. We were victorious, and that in the end was what counted.

And that is when everything I believed truned against me.

The troll was the first to begin. He bent down over the carcass of a slain rogue, caught whiff of the blood, and screached in bloodlust. The ogres, and even my kin... aye, even my kin, echoed the cry. Boasts of victory and pride erupted, and the frenzy pulled them all south, running in glee. I followed, knowing what I was seeing, but not sure what to do about it. I have seen battle frenzy before, but never like this. This was... strange... wrong.

The grizzled warriors ran as if they were in a panic. It was clear, though. They knew exactly where they were going. They knew these parts well, I could see. The raid was planned before it began. They continued until they saw their next target. I stared in numbness. I did not know what to do, or think.

The farmer and his wife truly had no time. The band was upon them quicker than they even understood. A farmer. And his wife. I will not put down the things I saw as I stood still, watching the scene play before me.

When all was done, these ... brothers.... gave up another cry of ...victory... and made their way straight east, shouting for me to join, unaware of my lack of zeal. They made their way out of my sight, unaware that I was not among them any longer.

I turned to look at what was left of the farmstead. The damage was done to most things in sight. But things did not matter right then. I looked at the bodies.

What had I been a part of? The scene continued to play out every second that my eyes stayed on the man and woman.

I turned a deaf ear when I heard the kobolds of Stonebrunt yelp out the service to Zek. I turned a blind eye every time I saw an ogre warrior eating pickled dwarf. I turned away from everything that I did not care for, but was not hurting me or mine.

In the corner of my trained eye I caught movement. At the side of the house, a small thing stood, motionless. Everything in me wanted to do a thing I've not done since I was six years old, in these very plains. Tears began to silently flow down my cheeks.

I watched the child. She stood still, not saying a word. A little thing. I would say not in her eighth year yet. She didn't even run when I sheathed my sword and walked to her. As gently as I had ever been in my life, I picked her up, and tried to make her as comfortable as I could against my plated armor. Not a sound did she make.

I began a slow trot to the west. My home village until I was seven was not too far away. I did not want to try the Miller farm. I did not know if the band of marauders had been there yet or not, and I did not want the girl to see anything that migh lay on the ground there. but I knew my people would not have fallen.

She held her tongue as I made the journey, looking back to the east the whole way.

Is this what I followed blindly my whole life? No. Not this. Even though I spoke the words, I never followed this.

My people understood what had happened even as I arrived. They moved to make themselves prepared, and sent out the fastest runners to warn the other peaceful setllements of the Karanas. They understood, even though the child, and I, never spoke a word. I gave the little one over to the chieftain's wife, and turned and walked away along the shores.

Never again will I claim the name of ... my diety. That name was now a numb, dead word on my tongue. But, now...

Who was I?

[Noa]

Korg Ironhand   
Blue Ribboned Barbarian
Posts: 48
(6/19/02 1:51 am)
Reply  Re: A Warrior's Words: The Curse of Living
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Again, I was forced to do the very thing I was trying to run from.

The gnoll reaver lay dead at my feet. My sword was in hand. Again. Will the bloody thing never stop showing? I turned to the river just at my back. With one quick toss, I could rid myself of the thing for good. I stared at the water for how long, I don't know. In the end, I was on my way, sword sheathed again.

I hated the blade. This thing I used to cherish. To love almost as much as I loved my kin. A gift I was given by a friend. A great gift, the likes I have not seen before. How I hated it now.

I vowed to myself when I walked away from my home village that I would keep it sheathed forever. I would never again be a part of what I had seen. Never again. And yet, I have broken that vow more often than I can count already. Always there was a wild thing trying to tear my flesh. Always I wrestled with whether or not to just let it do so. I had forsaken the blade. I would try to hold to that vow as though I meant it. And always in the end, the blade sprang into my hand as though it was possessed by something or someone other than me. Always I triumphed over my enemy. I cannot say whether I was relieved or saddened.

Who was I to live, while a little girl stood silently staring at her parents' butchered body? If I could not find the courage to protect that little girl, then what is my worth? A coward of such levels deserves to die.

I walked by rote, as I did all this way since I began this aimless journey. Thirst began to call to me, and I woodenly obeyed my instincts to live, even while silently wishing I would not. What a wretched thing I saw myself as now.

The inn of these Eastern Karanas was more than forthcoming. I drank, and I washed. As I looked into the basin, the ripples of the water slowed, and I stared at my wode. The tattoo across the left of my face was my way of declaring who I followed. The Warlord's symbol. Until the day I died, I would always be labeled as his. Yet another reminder of what I had taken upon myself.

Would it be better to just lay down my life? No. No, I may never be the same as before, but I will be alive. Dead, I can change nothing. Yet the resolve stopped there, and I slowly lowered myself into the bed.

[Noa]

Korg Ironhand   
Blue Ribboned Barbarian
Posts: 51
(6/19/02 9:45 pm)
Reply  Re: A Warrior's Words: Words
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I don't know how she found me, but I sat there at the pass to Highhold keep, trying to keep some sort of calm exterior. I sat looking at the ground, the hem of quea's dress the only part of her I saw.

What was it about this woman that made me so soft where I used to be as hard as steel? She had found me when I did not want to be found. She had pulled from me a tale I did not want to be told. She spoke words to me I did not want to hear. Yet at every step she turned me around and I did what I did not want to do.

What good were words? Action is what counted. I sat numbly while the druid tried to speak comfort to me. Words. They would do no good. I was determined to take the torture of my soul with dignity. I would speak nothing of what I felt, as I always did, and I would reach my own conclusions, when the end of it came.

Yet she has already pulled the truth from me, and more easily than I could ever have thought.

As I sat there, she washed over me a flood of words. I thought I was not listening. But coming from her, they seemed to matter. They seemed to make sense. And just her being there, looking at me when I finally began to raise my head to meet her eyes. Just her looking at me gave me a sense she was taking on a part of this heavy load. And I loved her for it.

The pain never went away. But it grew less. With her there, the weight seemed to lift, at times as if it fallen away. A random word would spark a memory, and bring it crushing back again. And then the process would start anew, and she would share the burden. Again.

When she left, it was as if a very large piece of me was suddenly empty. And I was left alone in my thoughts again.

No. Not alone. I had her words.

[Noa]

Korg Ironhand   
Blue Ribboned Barbarian
Posts: 52
(6/19/02 10:10 pm)
Reply  Re: A Warrior's Words: Sorting things through
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I began to make my way again. I still wanted to wander. To take time to make some sense of it all.

Quea was right about a good many things, and yet I felt she was so wrong about a good many others. I could have done nothing more than what I did. I believed her in this. In truth, I wanted to fully believe her, but a small part of me will always hold on to a bit of the guilt, I feel. Why couldn't I stop them from the slaughter? I would have died, but I would have died in honor.... and the little girl may not have found her way in the wilderness alive. That was a thing that healed a good many wounds. But I still would hold to the small corner of guilt.

To take up the sword again. I had to. I still felt a hatred for the thing strapped to my back. I still was not sure how I would end that dilemma. But she had spoken of defending her homeland with her very life. The thought of her falling nearly brought the sword to my hand right there. No. I would not toss the thing aside. Without it, I could not defend her.

As final as that thought was to me, I still could not think of using the blade as I once did. With reckless abandon, with ... joy. Yet I would continue to hold to it, until I find a greater purpose for it.

Regarding the Warlord, she was wrong. And she had no idea of how wrong she was. she saw the hand of Innoruuk in it. Perhaps, from the troll, or the shaman ogre. But the rest... The rest was Zek. I finally fully look into the face of the one I have served for time out of mind, and I finally see the truth of his ways. He is a being that cares for nothing but himself. He looks to others that have use to him only. He cares for himself alone, and that is the way he shows to his own. It was Zek who sired the ogres. And they are the perfect example of what it means to follow him.

Why would I want to pattern my life like an ogre, to strive to be like one of them?

No. She was wrong about that. I would stay true to my convictions, now that I have opened my eyes. I follow the Warlord no longer.

That is finished.

But, again, I come to the question I asked from the beginning.

Who am I?

[Noa]

Korg Ironhand   
Blue Ribboned Barbarian
Posts: 53
(6/20/02 2:12 am)
Reply  Re: A Warrior's Words: The Unfilled Void
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Taking up the sword became easier. I no longer hated it so. I did not love it as I used to, but I at least could hold it with some energy again.

Waid had asked my help in hunting spiders. He just happened by chance to be in the East Karanas at the same time as I. Again, I made the choice to unsheath the sword. To aid a friend. that was my only reason. I began to take to my task, putting on a casualness in front of the other warrior, to ward off any questions he would have. Together, we had no need for a healer, as we could tear into anything before us with a speed that didn't allow it to gain an offense. It was a .... slaughter.

As the day continued, I could do nothing but let the job before me take me through the motions. Waid was enjoying the day. A fine hunt it was becoming. With a shout, he asked me if all barbarians take such pride in slaying spiders.

The words shocked me back into my previous state, and I answered a half hearted boast that he did not notice, or did not make comment about.

Alone again. Waid had his fill of the hunt, and said his farewell. And I was left wondering where I would go now. And the questions began again.

I wondered again, aimlessly. I didn't seem to know where my thoughts took me. I longed for a safe place. Something familiar. Something comforting.

My first thoughts went to Quea. And I was broken because of it. She showed herself very briefly, again by chance, in the East Karanas. On her way back to her homeland. And she was not herself. Something had crushed something inside her, it seemed. She always mentioned her destined journey to the Overthere, but she would never give the details. She had gone there that very day. And she was not in good spirits. I would not have let her leave without telling me why, but then Waid ran into trouble. An accomplished warrior, but not able to hold his own in those lands. I was torn by urgency, and desire. She did not hold it against me, as I knew she would not, when I ran to help the dwarf. But when I was able to seek her out after some time, she was already in her bed, and asleep. I had not the heart to wake her. She needed her sleep. She sounded so worn.

But without the druid there to fill that void in me, I felt another void creeping inside of me. One I did not know was there.

What was my purpose? Before that night in the Western Karanas, I could have told the answer to that. To fight. To win. To live to fight again. The thrill of the battle, the riches of victory.

Now, what was my purpose? Zek had filled a void that I did not know was there, and now, he was no longer welcome. If the glory of battle was no longer my driving force, then what was?

I was cold. A familiar feeling, yet somehow different. I looked around, and found myself at the spire of the Great Divide. Wolves immediately began to congregate, testing my mettle to see if they had a meal for the day. I made my way by the memory of a map, and found the gate of Thurgadin quickly before the sun set, and the hunt began in earnest.

In my wandering, I sought a place of comfort, and chose the cold and the snow. I could not have gone back to my homeland. Not like this. So I chose the next thing to it.

I had never been to this strange city, so I took to walking the icy corridors. I might have enjoyed it, any other time. Right then, I was only looking for ... something.

My eyes grew weary. From the fighting earlier and the travelling. I was about to seek an inn, but to my right I spied a large chamber full of dwarven battlements. And to the end of it was a temple of sorts. I was drawn to it like a moth to flame.

I knew dwarven speech, but the orator had a very uncommon dialect, so i did not even enter. I sat down outside the door and listened to him from there.

Was I so dependent on faith, then? Something to believe in, even if I did not follow it's word to the letter? I would not have believed it, but then, there I sat like a beggar on the porch of this assembly hall. The fatigue of the road began to overtake me, and I began to doze with unanswered questions.

Who was I? What did I believe? Where was my beautiful hobbit now?

[Noa]

Korg Ironhand   
Blue Ribboned Barbarian
Posts: 55
(6/20/02 10:36 pm)
Reply  Re: A Warrior's Words: Changing things up
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I stood in the middle of the Eastern Wastes. Not a soul was around, save myself, and the giant standing opposite me across the field.

Tall, deep chested, and the most piercing eyes I've ever seen. His armor was not the same as the other giants of this land. Plain enough, almost simple, but the luster of it in the noonday sun nearly blinded me. His beard was long, full, and kept. His hair the same blond as his beard, and straight.

He stood there staring at me as I began to size up the situation. There was nowhere I could run that he could not catch me up. I could not win against him. That was obvious even in the way he stood. I could not go under, over or through him. I was a dead man, even as I stood.

"Fight me." His sword flashed brilliantly as he raised it. A mighty weapon the looked stronger than any steel I had ever seen. With those words, a terror struck me harder than any weapon did. Death waited for me at the point of that blade, and I wanted to flee in a panic.

I've no idea what took hold of me then. I suppose some part of me felt I had to go in a blaze. I stretched my arms out in a wide arch, flexing and getting the blood to flow through me as before a battle. "Today is a good day to die." I pulled my arms together and held the sword in both hands, facing the opponent. "For you, that is. I plan to live forever."

A quirk came to the giant's lip, as he seemed to stifle a chuckle at the remark. There was a light that danced in his eyes as he stood there and waited for me.

With a roar, I ran to close the gap, and our swords clashed.

It was an impossible battle. I knew I would die. All I could do was fight with everything in me. And that I did. I raged against this being, using all my training, all my strength, and all will. Every blow was dealt in desperation. And he blocked every bit of it without difficulty. Yet he never pressed in for a kill. He danced the swords with me, keeping me at the very point that all my skills could muster before breaking before his mastery. I fiented, dodged, struck, riposted, parried. He did the same, countered every blow, double countering my counters. It was the very best I had to offer, and he was accepting it with ease. Yet neither of us received a single injury, in the midst of it all.

I did not know how long the battle went. It felt like days. Then there came a point where it was everything I could do to stand and swing the blade. The giant held up his hand, and I felt new energy flow through me, as though I could climb to the top of the tallest mountain, then soar off into the sky. I renewed my attack, with the same zeal as I started. And the warrior continued his mastery.

I saw the sun fall below the horizon to the west. I saw the sun come up in a blaze of glory to the east. The cycle made it's way over my head countless times, until I was lost completely in the moment.

Somewhere in the middle of all of this, I realized that I had never felt such life and joy as I did then. In the heat of battle I belonged. In the pitch of combat was my home. I laughed, as I pressed into the opponent's defense, feeling the energy of Zek's blessing flow through me as I .....

Zek's Blessing. No! This was not to be! I have renounced Zek! I was no longer...

The giant's blade landed on my head with a very painful smack. The flat of the thing turned it into a club, and I staggered to keep my balance.

"Zek is not the one who gives that energy." The giant spoke in a booming voice, as he circled around me while I tried to regain my footing. "He was the first to perfect it, true, but his warrior's are not the only ones to feel the rush of battle flow through their veins. Even Nife's disciples feel it, when they finally learn to give into it." He stopped as he came to my front again. His blade came up, and he rushed in. "Again."

I threw my sword up in parry, staggered at the weight of his attack, but came to my feet to riposte. The battle came again. I felt the life flowing through me again. But the pain of the injury did not fade. It throbbed as I continued to fight, a very vivid reminder of the giant's words.

We continued forever in that contest. I had lost my fear to the point of barely recalling it was ever there. Nothing mattered. Only the battle. In the end, I finally fell exhausted into the snow, not caring if the giant drove his sword into my exposed defenses. All I knew was life and contentment in the weariness.

"A good start." He said as he stood before me. Then I could hear him begin to tread away, his massive weight sinking into the snow with a crisp snap.

I raised my head to see him already off a good ways. "Wait! Why do you do this?!"

Over his shoulder, I heard his reply before he dissappeared over the hillside.

"It is time to change things up."

**********

"Stranger. Stranger."

I awoke to the sight of a coldain dwarf, carefully tapping my shoulderpad, trying to stay close enough to do the action and stay far enough away to avoid any mishap if I awoke in a foul mood. I jerked at the sight of him, then looked about in wonder, trying to remember where I was.

Thurgadin. The temple, or library, or whatever it was. I was in the dwarven city of Thurgadin.

The fellow gave me a questioning look. "Are you lost? Do you require the attention of a cleric?" I wondered at this, and then realized he was dressed in robes that spoke of a loremaster of sorts. Of course he would question the presence of a barbarian dozing at his front porch.

"Ah... No. No, I am fine." I looked about to see the small fortress headquarter to the left. A small contingency of soldiers were watching the situation, making sure there was no ill will in the stranger in their sights. "I am sorry. I must have fallen off. I did not mean to bother you. I will go." he stepped back, unsure if I understood his question or not. As I moved to rise to my feet, pain seized the side of my head like a vice. I winced, and instinctively reached for the source of the pain.

"Are you sure, now? It looks nasty. I would think you've been waylaid, if you were not sitting where you are." The coldain was looking worriedly at the point I had reached for.

There, on the side of my scalp, was a knot the size of a goose egg.

[Noa]

Korg Ironhand   
Blue Ribboned Barbarian
Posts: 59
(6/23/02 3:47 pm)
Reply  Re: A Warrior's Words: Change what you will
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The endless battle continued. The giant pressed the attack as before, keeping me at the very peak of my skill, draining my arms and chest and legs and back of every drop of energy, while filling my soul with life and zeal and purpose. He spoke only when a point was to be made, and that usually at the flat of his blade. The sun set and rose, and set again. the endless battle filled me to the point of elation. I forgot the trials of life. I forgot the burden of guilt and shame. I forgot all the things that weighed so heavy upon me in my waking life. In this battle, I felt... fulfilled.

The giant, brilliant blade fell heavy on the top of my head like a hammer, and I staggered, and fell. The giant spoke with the booming voice, standing before me with a look of consternation on his face.

"Tell me why you hesitated." He knew the answer. I knew he knew. This was the first time he asked, instead of told. I struggled to answer him, my words almost coming out in a slur due to the pain gripping my head.

In this place, lies were beneath us. The truth was told, no matter how cowardly or stupid it was. Facing the truth was a courage unto itself, and the rewards of that was clear thought and clear conscience.

"I am not worthy of this skill." I gripped my head and looked to the snow of the Eastern Waste below me.

"You are!" The giant's voice was full of anger. "In battle, anything can grip a soul. Fear. Terror. Sorrow. Regret. Mistakes are made on every battlefield. It is what you do after the mistake is what counts."

I know longer felt the familiar cold of the snow. The ground below me was grassy, and held a warmth as though the sun was just setting. The pain of my head was gone, and I looked up.

Almost immediately I began to panic. There before me, I saw the scene of that night began to play again. I was on my feet, watching as I did before.

"Change what you will." The giant stood off behind me, away from sight.

I stood frozen again, as I watched the slaughter of the innocent man and his wife. The shock was no less this time around. As the troll cast the final wicked spell of pestilence on the woman as she tried to run away, a rage and a terror finally kicked in, and I raised my sword with a scream of sorrow that made my throat hurt. The company, even in their bloodlust, turned poleaxed as they saw me bury the blade into the troll's neck, leaving the head to dangle from a flap of skin I had not connected with. I pulled the sword out and turned immediately to the next monster. A kin of mine, who's grin of malice was replaced with a gasp of fear. The green blood of the troll mingled with the red of the barbarian, as I drove the blade in between his armor chink at the neck. The blade stuck. A minor inconvenience to me, as I tugged it back out, ready to continue with my hatred.

Pain and anguish shot through me as I staggered, falling to the ground from whatever blade found my back. I felt life flowing out of me from somewhere behind. Everything in me tried to ignore it, to stand up again and finish my rampage, but my body would not respond.

With what fading consciousness remained, I saw a little human girl, not more than eight years of age, standing in the shadows, watching. The light faded to black.

"Change what you will." The giant stood off behind me, away from sight.

I stood frozen again, as I watched the slaughter of the innocent man and his wife. The shock was no less this time around. As the troll cast the final wicked spell of pestilence on the woman as she tried to run away, a rage and a terror finally kicked in, and I raised my sword with a scream of sorrow that made my throat hurt. I charged into the nearest of my former companions with a rage that burned into my soul. The ogre standing there was at the height of his frenzy from the kill, and turned in readiness. My blade rained down blows that the ogre barely parried, but he did parry them. My wieght and size was not an issue with him as it usually was with the smaller races. As I rampaged, trying to find an opening in his defense, I felt the burning heat of fever wrack my body, as the pestilence from the troll's spell began to run it's course. To my back came multiple slashes of anguish as I tried to reach the ogre's head with my weapon. In the end, my body would not respond to my commands, and I began to fall.

With what fading consciousness remained, I saw a little human girl, not more than eight years of age, standing in the shadows, watching. The light faded to black.

"Change what you will." The giant stood off behind me, away from sight.

I stood frozen again, as I watched the slaughter of the innocent man and his wife. The shock was no less this time around. As the troll cast the final wicked spell of pestilence on the woman as she tried to run away, a rage and a terror finally kicked in, and I raised my sword with a scream of sorrow that made my throat hurt.

The scene had played out endlessly. Each time with me falling. Each time with the little girl watching from the side of the house. Each time, I knew I was dead, and the little girl would not survive.

The sun was high up, and the village in my sight was a familiar one. The barbarians were setting their nets out for the next boating, while others were setting to the tasks of daily life. Barbarian children played to the west of the village, and the chieftain's wife sat aside watching them, a little human girl held in her arms. The girl was holding to the woman, watching the others play while she swayed to the woman's rocking. She was silent, but alive.

I fell to the snow of the eastern waste, not knowing what made me weep as I did. The giant stood somewhere to my side. I could here him begin the walk away.

"There is no shame in weeping." The giant's footfalls trailed off over the hill again, and I was left alone.

[Noa]

Korg Ironhand   
Blue Ribboned Barbarian
Posts: 60
(6/24/02 3:22 am)
Reply  Re: A Warrior's Words: The time between
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I spent my time torn. Part of me wanting to be in the dream. In that place where I lost myself and my pain in the battle. Where every care fell away from me as I spent all my energy in contest with the giant.

The other part of me wanted to face the waking day in spite of the pain of rememberance, in spite of the sorrow and confusion. To walk through them, and find Quea. A strange thing. She was the only thing that made the time I spent awake worth the effort. I had never dreamed I would fall so deeply for a woman. Let alone a halfling. But I found myself waiting to wake up, so I could find her and see her again.

This morning was odd. I woke up in tears. I knew why. The memory was vivid. But I found immediate comfort in the beautiful hobbit sleeping near me by the water. Weary beyond belief, we had found a safe place in the Northern Karanas and fell asleep in each others arms.

I lay there for what seemed like hours, pulling myself together in the wake of the dream, just gazing at Quea's face. I did not want to wake her up. I needed her there, yet I didn't want her to see me like this. She did not know of my dreams, and I was not going to tell her today, of all days. After a time, I gently rose away from her, and made myself ready for the day. She was safe. The guards near the tower would be on patrol, and no bandit would show itself so close. Just the same, I made my way east to be certain there were no skulkers about. Satisfied that she was safe, I wandered until she awoke.

At the noon day sun we found ourselves in Freeport, heading for the docks. The crusty old rogue and the wizard were waiting for our arrival in the Ocean of Tears. I realized that I had too many items in my pack, and had one or two in the vault that I needed, we took a detour to the northern part of the city.

She tried to lead the way, as she did in the wilderness, but the druid was out of her element. Neither of us had seen much of this human city, but I had once or twice more than she. We were seperated shortly, and I finally found her sitting by a partition of wall, sitting and waiting for me to show.

I looked up, and saw some tall, blue stone building to the north, it's crown reaching to my sight over the walls. I kept glancing up at it without even realizing what I did. Quea asked me what kept my mind so, as she darted ahead again through the arc in the city stones.

We made our way, searching out the bank. Then suddenly we came to an open gate, and I stood to look at the blueish stone building in full. I was not overly impressed. I've seen better, in my opinion. Yet I could not stop looking at it. Quea was in a rush. The others were waiting. And so I let her pull me off further into the city.

The boat sailed peacefully. The wind in our faces, the sea to our side, and the promise of friends to greet us. The hunt was for a fabled creature, an ancient cyclops that supposedly held an item of great worth. In hindsight, I say fabled because we never saw such a beast. We sat at the port side of the ship, watching the waves. All the woes that hounded me were set aside again by her presence.

I asked a shipmate about the islands, wanting to know what we were getting into. He was full of myths and legends, seafuries and sirens and the like, but I whittled down what I felt was the important things for the time being. The dock we were to land on was occupied by the Sisters of Errolisi Marr, a band of women pledged to the diety's service, keeping themselves from men. He was a little confused at what he felt about them. Seemed the thought of an island full of beautiful women was countered by the aparent fact that they were apprehensive of men, at best. I chuckled at the sailor obvious frustration with the situation, for he had quite a crush on the dock woman.

We docked, and the adventurers began to walk onto dry land again. The woman there were indeed pretty, and fair warriors and rangers, but they eyed every man that came to land with a suspicion. I suppose they felt they had to keep themselves from seeming helpless. I have known men who would take the situation as potential advantage. I stayed out of the women's way as best as I could. Siffo showed, and we were about to follow him to the hunting ground, when Quea remembered she had to sell something. She made her way to one of the few elf homes that stood at the dock.

As I waited for her outside (cursed elven doors can never be large enough), I began to glance around the small settlement. A woman was returning from off the mountain, hefting a spear, and smiling amiaby at me. I caught myself, and looked again. She was indeed smiling amiaby, and as she passed, she bid me a good morning. I wondered at this, and I began to look about at the other women. When one of them met my gaze, the reaction was the same. Good mornings, good hearted smiles, and gracious nods. From women who did not trust other men further than they could be thrown.

The rest of the day unfolded with good fellowship. (The stories I can tell around the tavern have numbered at least ten more). The sun fell, and my beautiful hobbit and I made our way. I followed her home, to watch the moon with her and hold her while she dozed. She was again so tired. I sat there wondering if I would meet the giant again if I fell off. Fear wrestled with anticipation. I wanted to be in the battle. I wanted to run from the pain.

It didn't matter just then. Just then, I only wanted to hold Quea.

[Noa]

Korg Ironhand   
Blue Ribboned Barbarian
Posts: 68
(6/25/02 10:54 pm)
Reply  Re: A Warrior's Words: The Call
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Sweat ran down my back, and a terror gripped me like I've never know before.

I stood in the Eastern Waste, the same field of snow as always. The same feel of the day that the dream began every time. But this time was different. This time, it was not the giant that met me.

It was Rallos Zek.

I knew him. He stood there across the field, the armor shielding his massive, giant form literally blood red, as some of the blood shed down to the snow, staining it in in an ugly fashion. His sword was massively thick, shining only dully, as though it has seen so much war that is was beyond ever looking new again. His helm allowed two eyes to bore into souls. Cruel eyes. Brutal eyes. Eyes focused on me.

He knew. Knew all the things I was involved in. Knew all my sacrilege to him. All my renouncing. All my weaknesses. All my failures. All my fear. All my....

I felt another presence fill the field, and I turned and saw the giant stand to the opposite of Zek. The three of us standing in a vast triangle, and I felt more in the middle than far away.

The giant was changed. He no longer looked gruff, his armor no longer simple. He stood with resplendant plate, dazzlingly bright, and made more so by the early morning sun on the snow. His sword was no longer the giant two hander. he held a blazing long sword, as polished and bright as Zek's was dull and worn. His eyes, though. His eyes were the same piercing gaze as always. I knew it to be him.

At his presence, all of the flaws I began to take upon myself began to lose their grip. I remembered all the things the giant had shown me over these nights. I gained some confidence.

But the presence of Zek was not be ignored. He stood as if the other giant was an intruder in this place. At the door of his domain, it felt. He was confident. And, I have gained the Warlord's wrath. It would not be a light thing.

Zek turned to the other, a grimace of smoldering anger across his face.

"I have been calling this one for many days. Many days I have waited, wondering what kept him. Now I know." The calm exterior belayed the emotion obviously going through him.

"He has no need of what you offer." The giant remained loose, his blade seeming at rest, point to the ground. But I knew he was ready for battle at a thought. Surely the Warlord saw this too.

"He is mine! He pledged himself to me. He made his life from what I gave him from childhood. He takes glory from his fallen enemies, and he finds strength in battle." At this, he turned to me, and broke a smile that made my soul sick with fear. "He needs only to be... broken in."

The giant remained calm and casual. "That won't be happening."

"It will!" In the space of a heartbeat, Zek's rage came back into control. "I call him to my temple, as I've called him all these nights that he comes here. All these nights, you have intercepted him. I have finally decided to seek him out, and find what has held him from my embrace." The Warlord sneered at the giant. "I'm surprised I find you at the heart of it. He doesn't seem your type." He looked over the shining giant with contempt for his emaculate appearance.

The giant waved his hand before his face, as if waving away a fly. "You know as well as I do. His heart is not yours. I only found him lost, and took pity. But as I examined him, his heart knows me, whether he knows it or not."

The giant turned to look at me. I saw so much difference in he and I, as he stood now. In appearance, and in manner, I was much more like the other giant. I had no need for armor bright as the sun, or eloquant speech, or the aspiration of ascension into something more heavenly. I only needed a sword in my hand and resolve in my heart. Battle was where I found my place. In the depth of the challenge of the fight was where my soul lay.

All the lessons the giant had taught me came to my mind. The glory of battle was so much more when for the right reason. To hunt with no reason but for the hunt's sake was never truly in me. To seek out a beast or monster for no other reason but that it is there was never in me. I took the fight to the ones that bore sorrow to others, even if I did not know it. The bandits. The orcs. The goblins. The giants. The teir'dal. All these were the enemy to what I held dear, whether I recognized this fact or not. I fought to improve myself, but always against an evil foe.

"NO!" Zek turned to me, almost spitting out the interuption. He saw what was inside me as I looked to the giant. I broke my gaze at the shining one with a jerk, as Zek bore into my soul. "Your training with me will begin now!" His glare held me strong, and my torture began.

I stood at that miserable place again. The farmhouse in the West Karanas. The family was there, alive and looking at me and the other warriors of that night. But it was different. The warrior's all looked brave and bold beyond mortally possible, myself included. Five lesser gods stood and stared at the family.

The man and woman looked contemptable. So frail. So weak. The little girl looked to be growing into the spitting image of her parents. She would soon grow to birth more of the weak. In their hands they all held pouches, opened at the top, as if mocking us with their riches. The coppers within must have outshone the sun. A richer luster than platinum ever held. And these weak ones sneered at us with laughing eyes, telling us with their grins that they saw themselves better than us.

We felt every right to take what was rightfully ours. Who were these humans to gloat over riches that they did not deserve. And gloat to us, gods by our might and strength. A resolve to take from them what we wanted filled us.

As we advanced, the little girl stared up at me. Nothing in my mind's eye changed, but something was... wrong.

The Warlord stood beside me, and gave my head a solid wrack with his palm. "Those who hesitate die! She will grow to kill you, if you let her! Drive your sword into her!"

'N.. NO!" I stepped back, not wanting to raise my sword. Not wanting to be here. The Warlord spat a curse of rage, and the other "gods" turned to me. I knew the look in their eyes. I was showing weakness. for them, weakness in another was a good thing. It brought victory. With saddistic purpose, they flashed their swords and drove into me.

In the midst of the beginning of this anguish, I faded back to the Eastern Waste, terror, pain, and unworth filling me to my core.I was suddenly aware of another giant, a woman of untamed beauty, holding a bow in her left hand, at my side, leaning down and whispering comfort to my ear.

"Korg. Korg, my love. It is alright. You are fine. Please, find ease. Oh, please, my heart. Don't moan so."

The woman's voice filled me with ease. So beautiful, her voice. So soothing. She spoke with such a softness, I could not believe it came from her. It was so familiar.

I found myself back fully on the snowy field, shaking, but still standing. The woman stayed by my side. Zek stood nearly gawking in unbelief at the woman, and her effect on me. He glared in amazement, until the shock turned to dissappointment, and he turned his voice to the female giant.

"So. He has found a woman. Such a strong tie she has."

The woman stood straight, towering over me. She nearly chuckled. "Oh, yes. Very strong."

I could see the Warlord was not so sure of himself now. He did not lose resolve, though. "So. Two have come to visit my place." He stood considering options.

"We come to intercede. Stop calling him, and we will go away. Continue, and you will see us every night, here, at your doorstep. I do not think you would like our influence." The giant man's tone was as always so casual. All the more proof to me that he was ready to strike in my defense.

Zek considered this, lips curled back in almost a ricktus. He would as soon run the two of those through as give up a fight, and a prize, no matter how important, or trivial. But he could not ignore the sword ready to raise, and the bow ready to be drawn in the woman's hand.

I felt that my fate was being decided. My life was at the whim of these three, of whatever the outcome of this meeting fell to. And I could only stand and watch. Terror again gripped me. I did not want to go with the Warlord. Again, the woman bent down to whisper soothing words in my ear.

"Korg. Korg. Please don't tremble so. Oh, you are soaked in sweat. Please, hush. Don't moan." I felt hands about my head, as they began to sway me to and fro in a gentle rocking.

I felt such peace at the so familiar voice.

After an eternity of the two male giants staring at each other, I felt the Warlord give into ... fear? "You make more enemies than you need, you know."

"I make no enemies that I do not already have."

More red oozed off of his armor, onto the fallen snow, as though someone has paid for his failure in this battlefield. "I will call him here no longer." The words were a disgusting thing in his mouth to him.

Zek turned to glare at me one last time. He looked like a giant who has just found a bug to crush under his heal. "We are not through. I would have given you the chance to become glorious. Now, my eyes will seek you, only to destroy you. And when you die...." The grin grew into a smile of cruel intent, " Then the true pain will begin."

He turned to go, and then stopped and turned his head half way to me. "Unless, of course, you repent." And with that, he turned fully away.

I stood, stunned at what had just happened. Stunned. I could not have reacted to anything at that moment. I only felt as though I was taken down off of the gallows.

The man giant sighed, and for the first time, here or ever, I saw him breathe a sigh of relief. The woman to my side echoed the sentiment. I felt as though the battle would have been a very close one.

He turned to look at me from across the field.

"I fear your life has just become much more complicated." I only stood as before. Stunned. "But do not worry. We will continue to heal your wounds. And in the end, you will grow strong."

My only thoughts were of the unsprung gallows. I stood there, not able to contemplate what had happen. The man and woman stood with me for a moment, then I felt they were about to send me off. With a slurred voice, I reacted in spite of my disabilities.

"Wait. Who....?" It was all I could get out, but they understood. The giant man only drew a small smile.

"Go to Freeport."

[Noa]

Korg Ironhand   
Blue Ribboned Barbarian
Posts: 72
(6/29/02 7:54 pm)
Reply  Re: A Warrior's Words: Helpless
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I have never felt so helpless in all of my life.

Quea has told me what she has been trying to keep to herself for these past days.

All I could do was hold her close, and shed tears for her.

I have never felt so helpless in all of my life.

[Noa]

Korg Ironhand   
Blue Ribboned Barbarian
Posts: 117
(7/18/02 11:37 pm)
Reply  Re: A Warrior's Words: Freeport
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Pain, fiery pain, burnt at a place to my side, as I came to. Sweat covered me from head to toe, and it was all I could do to not writhe and bellow in agony. I probably would have bellowed, if I could only catch my breath in the middle of the wracking sting.

A hand came over my mouth. A feminine hand. I opened my eyes, and saw the woman kneeling over me, a look of concern in her eyes. The only light distinquishable was the very small amount that bled from her pendant, and that was only enough to show her face, and to give form to shadows not more than two feet away.

"Stop your thrashing, or they will hear, fool." The woman glanced to the left, over the head of another figure with hair hanging close to my face.

"Give pity, Raenna." The other woman's voice was sharp, but equally low and fearful.

I didn't know them, nor cared if the world heard my anguish. I began to pull in breath as best I could, and let out gasps of shuddered pain at each chance I got. Another form was suddenly there. I suddenly realized that three forms were all but piled on top of me, trying to hold me still, and doing all they could to stifle my groans. To no avail. I continued to seek cool air to soothe the fire, and to move in any way to try and work out the pain.

The third one, a man, lifted his hand, and with a few short words, placed it to the source of my trouble. It felt like the sweetest bathing in the Halas lake I had ever experienced. With a deep sigh, I finally was able to pull in the air I sought, and felt myself go slack.

I came to, in the same dark place as before, with the same three people kneeling over me, looking every way they could while otherwise keeping deathly still. An instinct to strike out came close to fulfillment, as I have never known these people, but the way they held themselves told me that a greater threat then they was somewhere about. The first woman looked down at me and saw my eyes open and clear.

"So, he wakes finally." She whispered. The others turned their heads to me, then back to their watching. The first woman turned her head to glance about too, then spoke again. "Do you think you can walk? We would have made our way out much sooner, but you are no joke to try to carry. I'm amazed we even got you this far."

"Who are you?"

An almost hissing came from the second woman, a reproach for the the volume of my voice. "Stand him up, Raenna. He's fine, between your touch and Yovik's, he should have no problems carrying himself."

I began to get a very uneasy feeling about the darkness. If these were so afraid of what was there, than I started to think maybe I should have a little more concern for it. I began to find my legs, and stood up fully, settling my packs as quietly as I could.

The first woman took the point, and we four began to make our way through the dark tunnels. It didn't take long at all for me to notice the stench, and even in the very pale light of Raenna's pendant, which was even paler with her back to me, the other woman saw my grimaces. She made no comment, though, as we shuffled through the brick corridors.

Finally there came a place where we stopped, and the other's seemed to breath easier, and look less worried. I took the opportunity.

"Who are you?"

Three heads turned my direction, and the Yovik answered. "We could ask the same of you." He regarded me as nearly a lesser person, and it took me a bit to figure out why he did so. When I did, I responded with narrowed eyes.

"If you want to make trouble with a barbarian, you had better know what you are getting into."

The second woman made another hiss, at both of us, but turned her gaze to me. "He saves your life, and you would treat him so." She turned back to Yovik, and he met her stare for a moment, then conceded to whatever silent argument they were having.

The first woman spoke into the silence. "I am Raenna Griff. That one is Tarsa," She nodded at the other woman, "and the man about to get his head either chopped off or blasted off is Yovik. " The man made an icy stare at Raenna, before he let it go and took a look of acknowledged defeat.

Tarsa looked me over nearly as apprehensively as Yovik. "You are indeed indebted enough to us to at least give us your name, then. We did save your life, after all."

"Saved my life?" The memory of the agony came back, and I tried to remember what had caused it.

"Oh, yes. As sure as the Twins, you are a very lucky fellow." Raenna smirked at me, but a seriousness in her voice could not be dismissed. "We found you just inside the entrance, not far from the inkie. I doubt if he did the deed, though. Always one to stay out of politics, him."

"What maddness are you speaking, woman?" A stern look from the others told me that we were not so far out of danger to be raising our voices just yet.

"The poisoned dagger, you oaf." Tarsa's tone had taken on Raenna's, tinged with a touch of the prejudice she had been trying to be rid of before. "We found you in the throws of death, wallowing in the filth of the sewers, breathing your last. If not for Raenna laying on hands, you would have died not a moment later." She squatted and leaned back against the rock and dirt behind her, a section of wall that was not the same as the brick from before.

Yovik stood up and turned his face to me. "I would have tried to draw out the poison where we found you, but apparently you are important enough to check on, even when dead. Two guards came to confirm your death, for the militia's purpose, I suppose, and instead found three enemies ready to fight. One lays dead, the other fled off. And we have been running through the sewers for the last few hours, dragging your dead weight as best we could." He nearly spat at that comment. "The patrols the enemy makes will increase for the next few nights, thanks to you."

Raenna came over and stood before me. "So. Who are you, and why are you important enough for the Militia and the Dismal Rage to want to make sure you died?"

I raised my voice whether they liked it or not. "I have no bloody clue why the Militia wants me dead! I only walked through the city gates before two of them pulled me aside, asking questions. They led me to a place along the wall, and as I began to suspect they were up to something, I was pulled into darkness, and felt a fire in my side. That is the last I know of! And as far as what this bloody "Dismal Cage" or whatever you call it is, I don't care as long as they leave me out of it!"

The three of them looked about ready to go into conniptions by the time I was finished. "Be quiet!" All three of them whispered near as loud as I spoke. "You want to bring down more of them on us, you idiot?" They looked behind them as if expecting militia to come pouring out of the hole in the wall at that very moment.

Tarsa turned to the others. "Let's move again. The sooner I see the aquaduct, the better."

We began to march on, and the others fell silent, save Raenna. "You still have not told us your name, man."

"Korg. And I'm no man. Barbarians are heartier stock than any human could want to be." I glowered ahead, not liking the turn my "rescue" had taken.

Yovik snickered from behind. "Oh? If that's so, then why do you wear a skirt?"

"Because pants can't hold in my bulge."

That shut him up.

[Noa]

Korg Ironhand   
Blue Ribboned Barbarian
Posts: 119
(7/20/02 5:09 pm)
Reply  Re: A Warrior's Words: "Brothers and Sisters"
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I grew tired of the attempts at my life. One after another, anywhere I stood around Freeport. The Militia was no longer a true threat, as long as I stood clear of them. At least I knew where they were, keeping their place in the East and West of the city. It was the knives in the dark that put me on edge. Everyone of them aiming straight for a few chinks in my armor. Everyone of them coming too close to success for me to possibly relax. So anyone could understand why I got testy when Salinsa Delfdesan told me to be at ease. Anyone but Salinsa.

"Do you want me to send you out on some raw recruit's errand, then?" I don't think Salinsa frowned as much before I showed. She did it as though it was a strange expression on her face. She was probably used to young one's grinning and nodding at her every word, ready to do her bidding.

The temple courtyard was rather empty, save for Sentries Maighan and Gallius, and a few young fledging clerics who stood a bit wide eyed at us, as though we were both giants. These last few didn't stay long, when they picked up the mood she and I were in.

I frowned back, extremely familiar with the expression myself. In fact, I upgraded it to a scowl, for good measure. "Send me anywhere you wish, Noble, as long as it's out of this blasted, sandy, blazing, cursed stink hole you call a city! Bloody heat about to smother me where I stand!" I scrubbed the riverlets of sweat off my forehead, a motion I took up by rote ever since I came here.

Salinsa found the appropriate expression for her face. She seemed to be remembering her old days now, when she was a seasoned veteran. The glare she gave me held it's own string of curses, without needing to say a single one of them. "Fool Barbarian!"

We had been through this a few times already, but in truth this was the highest the tensions got between us so far. We stood staring at each other, about ready to go another round of insults, this time stronger, and more in depth.

And once again, she shut her eyes and took a deep breath, working some exercise she always did, letting the breath out slowly, letting as much tension as possible ride the breath out. Seeing her do so gave me a little space to pull myself in a bit, as well. Not as much as her, but some.

She opened her eyes and looked as calmly as she could into mine. "Ironhand. You have come to us in need, and we took you in. We have taken every effort to make you as welcome as we can. And regardless of what apprehensions we have, we always.. ALWAYS... keep our eyes open for any skulkers that look to be trouble for you, and the others in our territory. But you cannot expect us to just open our arms and accept you as one of our own, no matter what stories you have told the elders. If you want to earn our trust in the large things, then you will have to earn our trust in the little things."

She had said all that before, in other words, maybe, but the flavor was the same. And she was right, I came to realize. I was the stranger here. I reluctantly told Serna, Tholius, and Valeron of my story, my plight, and even more begrudgingly, I asked them to help me. I knew as soon as I set foot in this temple yard that this was the place I needed to be. The place of shelter from Zek. But I was so far from them in so many ways, that they and I needed some time to adjust. To earn each other's trust.

That is why they sent me to Salinsa. She was given the task of searching my intentions, of weeding out the truths and the untruths in me. Not that they put it in those words, of course, but only a fool would think she had me run about doing tasks for her only to use me as another acolyte. She always set me errands that allowed others to observe me, or missions that showed my character.

I did not blame them. A Barbarian warrior shows up on their doorstep, sporting a blatant wode of alligence to Zek, the spitting image of everything the Warlord's disciple should be? If not for the incident in the sewer, they may have driven me out of the city north before I even had a chance to explain myself to them.

I sighed, scrubbing my forehead again. She simply looked at me. As if expecting something. An apology? No, she knew better. ... But then, I have been acting the ass for the past few days. I looked back into her eyes, and after a moment's pause, I did something unexpected, even for me.

"I am sorry." The words came hard, almost not at all, but as soon as they did, it was as if I opened myself to a range of emotions I did not realize was there. With another sigh, I even felt my frame loosen to reveal a tiredness I was unaware of. "Two days ago. That was when the last one tried. And he came.... too close for me to simply shrug it away again." The knife had sliced through the tunic under my mail, stopped only by a deft twisting of my torso. When it was over, and I examined the scene of the battle, as noticed the knife was coated with a sickly looking ooze.

I sat down at the edge of the fountain, suddenly feeling the wieght of the past days come down on me. Ever since I had entered this city, I've had nothing but stress and strain, trying on one end to avoid daggers in the dark, and on the other to get these priests to stop glancing at my wode long enough to see I was no spy or assassin. I buried my face in my hands, trying to scrub away weariness instead of sweat, this time.

"So. You can be civil when you want to." I felt Salinsa come over to the fountain, and sit down to me left. "We were beginning to wonder. We were also beginning to wonder if you were ever going to tear down your guard against us, as well."

I turned my head to look over at her. She did not smile, but there was a definite difference in the way she held herself toward me. She only turned her head and looked at the walls. "Did you know that you have all but proven yourself to some of us already? Raenna Griff has made note of you from the very first day she and the others brought you to us. Indeed, she even vouched for you, on her own personal honor that first day. And as you patrolled the sewers... against our better judgment, that... even Tarsa and Yovik have returned with reports that you are not an enemy." At this she did break into a small grin. "Begrudgingly, but still."

Her grin settled to an easiness of tension on her face as she continued. She turned back to face me again. "It wasn't your stance as friend or enemy that have kept you at arm's length, Ironhand. It is reluctance to accept someone so different." She raised her chin a little, as though the next words were admitting a weakness of her own. "Our reluctance. And yours."

I knew what she meant. They were so proper about things. So civil. Something I was not used to. Something that irritated me. But that was not all. I saw them as looking down on me for not being as proper as they. In truth, they did, to a degree. ... Just as I looked down on them for being so stuck on themselves.

A sudden flash of understanding came to me as I sat there looking at Salinsa, this "noble" woman from the House Marr. And oddly enough, I saw the same comprehension on her face as well. She had only arrived at it sooner than I had, and begun to face it.

We, the whole lot of us, have built up prejudices from the start against each other. Judging the other on merits that were not even true merits, but appearances. And we have spent all this time not building trust so much as tearing down falsehoods.

Salinsa turned her gaze again to the wall. "You have been with us for some time. The counsellors did not want to let you out of their sight until we came to a conclusion about you. So far, half of us are sure. The others, not so sure, but coming around." She paused as if she was pronouncing some sort of judgment in a court. "We will call you friend, Ironhand."

The way she said the words told me that the decision had been given to her to make. And that whatever pronouncement she came to, the temple would abide by it, though she was not one of the highest rank. I looked at her face closely, then. She still wrestled with it, still fought back some doubt of my worth. In seeing this, my own mistrust began to try to emerge again. But between the two of us, we held fast to our friendship founded on faith.

"You have not seen your friends in some time. I will arrange an escort through the sewers. You can go see them now." She turned at looked at me with a sterness I've seen her use with fledgings. "But don't forget. The Militia are not the threat to you. The Dismal Rage has some reason to be at your throat, and they are not easily discouraged. Their reach goes much further than Freeport. And you are not finished with whatever it is you seek from us, so return soon. We, in the meantime, will search for more on why everyone in this place wants you dead."

At the mention of my friends, a pain came to my chest. So many would be worried about me by then, with no word as to where I was. And the one most worried was the one I most wanted not to worry.

I stood up, and turned to the mistress of recruits who kept me holding back my trust. She duplicated the action, but instead of turning to an outsider as she had all those times, she faced me as a warrior to a warrior. I took note, and silently rebuked myself for so easily taking up my prejudices again. I remembered who and what I was, and turned to my "sister of battle". There we stood, as though the long hard road we travelled had finally brought us to a place of first meetings. We saluted each other in respect due one warrior to another.

"Find strength in battle... Salinsa Delfdosen."

"Marr's honor's to you... Korg Ironhand."

[Noa]

Korg Ironhand   
Blue Ribboned Barbarian
Posts: 185
(8/6/02 11:37 pm)
Reply  Re: A Warrior's Words: The choice
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The dream came again.

It had been so long. All this time chasing this lead or that, seeking some word of who was looking to kill me. And still no closer to an answer. I've begun to pass as tolerable to the priests and paladins of Marr. Some even like me. And I them. But nothing tells me of who seeks my death. But then, I seek only the agent of the true source. I know it is Zek behind it. I only seek the one who's strings he pulls.

Now, standing in this place, asleep but not asleep, I knew I would not like what came.

I alwasy expected to come back in the sands of the desert. The temple stood in the middle of the ugly, blasted patch of earth, and my assumption was I would stand there if summoned again. It was not. I stood in a chamber larger than words could say. Rich, ornate, splendid. But my eye did not stay on the surroundings long.

Before me were the Twins. I knew them for who they were now. The giants were in all their glory, here. Mithaniel in armor so resplendent, blindness would have come to eyes seeing it in waking. His sword in his hand, point down, and his helm under the crook of his arm. Erolisi standing so beautiful, I could not notice what she wore, save is seems simple garb, every stitch there only to point to her loveliness. Her bow in hand, and her quiver at her side. After a moment, I recognized the set of their stance.

This was a counsel of war.

I came forward, standing as proud as one could in this sort of company. The Lightbringer taught me enough in the Eastern Wastes for me to know he did not expect the bending of the knee.

"Tonight, you must choose."

I blinked, and stood confused for a moment, then a dread began to overcome me. I did not know what his words meant, other than great pain to come. Pain of facing my choices.

I stood in Freeport. The milling crowd hustled about, barely noticing each other. Rogues and the like were all across the entrance of the West gate, making a decent living off those not watchful of their purses. The scen was one I was not accustomed to seeing. I've rarely seen this place before I became a target, and now I would not dare show myself here.

The crowd at the gate began to part, and I did not have to wait to see why. A hulking mass of iron made it's way under the arches, his helmet almost scraping the stone above. The guards only watched, as close to terror as they could be without running and screaming. They took their post to enforce against those weaker than them. Not stronger.

The ogre made his way into the entrance court, not giving others a glance. No need. They more than gave him his space. He stopped, and removed his huge helm from his head. The eyes. The eyes held all the understanding and mental prowess as the more intelligent races. This one did not speak in the third person. This one did not rush in on brute strength alone. He thought. He devised. He planned.

With a turn of his head, he looked over to the ogre selling at the courtyard. The simpleton Boomba gave a weak grin. The stranger curled his lip in disgust at him. Boomba's grin faded, and he shrunk in on himself. The ogre turned and caught the stare of a simple woman, huddled against the wall, waiting for him to go on and leave her safe. I would have thought this a perfect opportunity for him to gloat in his power, as his kind did. Instead, he spoke to her with a simple question. As one speaks to a tool, to be used and then discarded.

"The temple of Marr."

The woman blanched. A small part of her began to wonder why he, of all things in the world, would ask for that place. But that small part was squelched in a heartbeat. "To the north. You can see it as you make your way through that gate there." She did not, dared not, add more.

The ogre simply looked forward, and then began to walk again, replacing his helmet as he went on. When he was finally around th first bend, the whole of the courtyard let out a collective sigh.

Mithaniel stared gravely at me across the small distance in the chamber. "You are not ready for him. You must grow stronger. Tonight, whatever choice you make, you must flee that place."

I found myself standing in a familiar place. The image of the lovely Firona Vie watching over the shores of her city in the night was a pleasant one. But my gaze went straight toward one house. I ran to it, a strange mixture of ease and illl ease filling me. I wanted to see my love.

The house was dark. It did not seem right. A feel of emptiness came from it. With fear and panic, I ran to it, reaching to tear the door off it's hinges, and rip the posts from their place to fit into it. I had no need. I simply was inside.

So cold, it was. So dark. So ... empty. No flower in a vase on the small table. No possessions under the bed, or in the wardrobe. ... No Quea.

I ran out bellowing, looking frantically every place at once. Her name coming from my throat so loud my throat hurt. But I did not stop. I ran through the city trying to tear it apart, in a panic, in a rage. I know the exact time I finally fell down in the sand, outside on the beaches. It was three hours, fourty two minutes, and 9 seconds. All that time, every terror in Norrath raided me, and I ran until my legs and voice would not respond any longer.

"Your enemy has found your heart." Erolisi was the very image of the lover enraged at the world for the wicked games it plays with love. "You must defeat him to gain it back." I could make no move, only quiver in dispair.

"Who are you?" Mithaniel gave no quarter. He stood as royally as ever.

I knew what he was asking now.

All these days, he was grooming me, and I knew it. But I did not want to face it. I did not want to be a part of any plan of his. He had protected me time and again, but I did not want to give him allegiance. I did not want to be anything other than a simple warrior.

He had plans for me. What, I did not know yet. But it was sure he needed me for a task. It was a call to selflessness, to allow myself to be used for a greater good.

I was not to be one of his paladins. I was too different for that. He was grooming me to be a raging warrior. What I would rage against, however, was not simply the next opponent before me, or the next challenge to be won. My sword would finally have purpose.

Inside, I knew he was grooming me for something bigger than myself.

I did not want to look at him. I did not want to tell him no. Or yes.

We stood in the Eastern Wastes, once again. We stood across the field from each other, once again.

"Who are you?"

"I am Korg Irondhand, warrior of Halas, chosen from among many to be a champion of Rallos Zek." The words came out of my mouth, and I boggled at them. Champion? I was no champion. I was a simple warrior.

The flat of Marr's blade near killed me, as I collapsed to the ground. The blinding pain was enough to drive any thought from me. I felt as though I laid in agony for days.

"No! See the truth for what it is! Would the Warlord bother so much with a simple warrior?"

The drive to increase my power. The obsession to drive the final blow into the enemy in front of me. The need to be the best. All of the blade I've known have that to some degree. But I was ever more driven than what I've seen in them.

The calling of Zek, to his very doorstep on Norrath. Continually, until the intervention of another broke it.

The hate the Warlord now held for me. To pull his resources and strike at me, leaving me no room to find safe ground.

The offer of redemption, if I would only call out for him once again.

The pieces fit. I still could not believe, even with the puzzle knitted together in front of me.

I stood in the West Karanas. Surprisingly, not in that dreary place I did not want to see again. I saw to my right my home village.

A battle like none I've ever seen before was in place. Dark elves and trolls and ogres and humans were in heated fury against my kin. The tide was against my brothers. Too many to hold off.

The dark ones turned and watched me as I stood. Without a word, they spoke volumes. It was a hopeless battle, and I would live, if I did not interfere. Raise my sword against them, and I would fall, and be in the hands of the Warlord from then on.

I wish I could have said I was unaffected. that I raised blade and charged recklessly. But I stood and watched. Even as I stood and watched that fateful day to the east. And the slaughter continued. In the midst of all of this, I saw something.

A little human girl, terrified, huddled against the side of one of the huts, reliving a pain no one should go through twice.

The whole of the evil hoarde turned and screached evil obsenities at me, as I roared with a strength of purpose I hadn't felt in ages. I did not frenzy, and strike blindly. I tore into the fray where the line was about to fold, and joined the ranks. With a power I had long abandoned, I held against whatever foe stood before me. I danced the dance once more. The blessing of Zek, as I once called it, flowed through me, and my enemies fell. The tide was turned. We won before i realized the battle was over.

"Who are you?" The Twins stood before me in the chamber, waiting for me to answer.

The space of ages fell as we three stood there, and the question hung in the air.

I was one who would not let a child fall into the hands of evil. I was one who would no longer in my life pretend to look away from evil, in any form. I was one who would lay down my selfishness for a greater good. I was a changed man.

The Lightbringer and Queen of Love both reached to me, and touched my face.

[Noa]

Korg Ironhand   
Blue Ribboned Barbarian
Posts: 186
(8/7/02 12:56 am)
Reply  Re: A Warrior's Words: Who am I?
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The sun was high on the plains. the village was untouched, unscathed by my vision. A relief came over me for that alone. I had half expected it to be razed.

One of my cousins saw me striding forward, and he dropped his net, yelling as he ran toward the chiefs' home.

I made my way into the fold once more, petting the new wolf that kept his place in the pen. Snowpaw was long laid to rest, but this new guard of my people recognized something in me as belonging, and allowed my hand.

The chief came out of his hut, his wife following. He took a look to me and, sensing something has changed from that last night he saw me, grinned in some relief.

As my people gathered around to greet a long lost brother, he looked at my face oddly while he spoke.

"Now, cousin. I nea expected ta see yer face again. The way ya left us last, I'd hae thought you'd walked inta the waters an' buried yerself in 'em."

"Aye, that might hae been, if not fer some hep" My accent was always thick when I spoke my native tongue.

He cocked his head to one side, and made no secret of his puzzlement. "Yer wode. The tattoo..." He trailed off. Every barbarian knew the wode that procraimed one a follower of the Warlord. And everyone here in my village knew I once wore mine with pride.

I touched my own face, still not used to this new wode. I always found myself stopping and just marvelling at it when I saw my own face. "A new life, under a new allegiance." I did not bother trying to explain how the old one was taken, the new one made.

Though it was obvious he was not satisfied with the answer, he let it pass. He looked past the new wode, into my eyes. He watched me for a moment, and ever after that, he looked at me with a different regard than before.

"So. Yer no longer full of yer own p**s, I see. I see some wounds are finally healed. Good fer you, lad."

At those words, a new brooding washed over me. Something in my eyes showed him my soul. He quickly changed his grin to another expression.

"And you got new ones, aye." He scratched his beard, and tried to cover for the tears that near welled my eyes.

His wife moved closer to me, and laid a hand on my arm. "Now, none of this, husband. Ya take 'im from the rest o' us." Bless Caitlie for her mercy, saving face for me. "You always were such a brawny lad. Handsome as ever, you are now." Her smile was always warm. She always hoped I would come and find some barbarian lass and start a family in my home. Or at least Halas. She could not pass up the chance to press me again, even in jest. "So, you come to stay wit' us again? Give up yer wandering ways?"

"No." I grinned, but again the road ahead of me sprang to my mind, and it was hard for me to hold back the tears again, thinking of someone I loved very much. With an audible grunt, I pushed the welling emotions back. "No. I simply come ta check on ya, my kin."

"Aye, then. We'll be needin' some meat for the tables, clan! Let's get ourse'ves set for a good dinner!" My clan all took the time to speak to me as the chief and his wife got to setting people to work, and it was a very good thing to hear them again. So long, it's been. So long.

After some time, the crowd began to disperse, and I made my way further up into my home village. Many of my cousins wanted to tell me of their lives, and how they got on day to day. I loved to hear it, though I knew I would never accept it is my own life. They, in turn, wanted to hear plenty of what I had been up to. The questions began to pour over me, but the chief's wife waved them off, for she saw that in bringing up the answers, it also brought up the pains.

Before I came to the house, I spied a little head poking out from behind a corner of a hut. I stopped then and there, and nothing else existed in the world.

We stood watching each other for some time. She with her large light brown eyes staring into my blue.

I wanted to turn away and leave her be. I was sure she hated me. After all.... I was there that night. But then, I had really come all this way to see her. To ... I was not sure. talk with her? Ask forgiveness? I was not sure.

After a short time, she came out of her corner, and began to walk toward me. Such a brave little lass she was. Braver than I. I near beamed a smile of joy, if not for the roiling emotions within me. She came and stood before me, a very little girl craning her neck to see the face of a very big barbarian.

"Are you Korg McMannus?" Such a sweet little voice.

"Aye. I am." I took off my helm, and looked down into her face, letting her examine me.

"I remember you." I near froze, heartbroken at the accusations I knew she would throw at me.

She stood very still for the space of a moment. And then threw her arms around my leg. Tears began to leak from her eyes into my leggings, and she clutched me with such force, I could not pry her loose without hurting her. After a time, I dropped my helm, and pulled her up to my chest. She let loose my leg and held tightly around my neck, and I carried her off to the west of my home, where the children usually play.

It was a good while before she stopped sobbing, and I did not push her. I only cried with her. I did not need anyone to tell me she was mourning her father and mother. Aye, even after all this time. She finally looked up at me. With a maturity that young ones find at the oddest times, she began to wipe my tears from my cheek and beard.

"Don't cry, Sir Korg. I'm alright now." She was still wet with tears, but I saw only a beautiful little human girl taking care of a weary, mournful, and sad fool. I saw her pull herself together the way woman do when they have settled something inside them, and feel better for it.

She looked up at me, and with a steady gaze, she spoke again. "Caitlie told me what happened that day." She strengthened herself. "Those evil men killed a lot of people."

I looked back at her, wanting nothing more than to erase the whole day, the whole tragedy, from her mind. But I had to somehow face my part.

"I ... I am sorry." I made myself continue, even if I pulled the whole of my guilt out before her and accused myself of my part in her misery. "I was there. And I did nothing." She didn't seem to understand what I was saying. "I am sorry. I wish I could have saved your ma and da."

"I know. I saw you. From behind the house. The evil people were breaking everything. .... And .. stuff.... " She could not make herself think of her parents..." And you came up after they started. It... it all happened so fast. And then they ran off again. And you cried. And then you saw me and picked me up."

I will never forget her telling of it. And it will never cease to amaze me. I would have thought she was broken, and beyond peace with the world. But, after all this time, with Marr pushing the truth into my mind. With Quea conditioning me over and over. And yet, I had not let it sink in. It took this little girl to say it all so plainly, for me to understand I could not have changed it. All I could have done was try to heal what I could. I think, in the end, it was her forgiveness I sought.

I looked down to her, and we simply looked into each other's eyes for a time. With a simple, small smile, I asked her.

"What is your name, little one?"

"Rhaeya." She was not in such a mood to break into a full smile, but she did offer a small dimpling of her cheek.

"Well, Raeya. Allow me to introduce myself properly."

I am Korg McMannus.

I am Korg Ironhand.

Barbarian warrior of Halas.

A champion of Marr.