Fall of the North RPG - The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum

Saurreg · 03-20-2005, 05:04 AM

Belegorn tilted his head back and regarded the ceiling of the underground hall in awe. He raised his torch in a vain attempt to illuminate the ceiling but quickly recognized the futility of his insignificant act. Unless a towering scaffold was erected and a wide brimmed cauldron of flaming oil placed on it, there was no way he could scrutinize the dwavern rock carvings with adequate lighting.

Great were the crafts of the masters of stone, thought Belegorn admiringly as he continued to view the inspiring works of art above him, turning his head this way and that like a tourist in a strange but wonderful place.

“Magnificent!” The wide-eyed man remarked aloud idly to himself, “Simply magnificent!”

A shrill and youthful voice chirped excitingly,

“My lord Lieutenant! The exploration party has been assembled. Twenty men strong as ordered ssarrr!”

Belegorn shuddered as the nasal voice cracked at the last noun. He looked towards its source, eyes squinting and mildly irritated by one as audacious as to interrupt his private moment of awe and contemplation. The messenger turned out to be a red-cropped, pimpled faced youth, short and skinny. He looked at belegorn in a pleased manner and smiled cheekily. But this boy wasn’t any errand boy of the moment, scampering to deliver a message to the most ferocious man in the vicinity for a token or two. This was a boy clad in an ill-fitting leather hauberk and brandishing a blunt twin-edged blade. The youth saw that Belegorn was eyeing him and his crooked grin drew even wider.

“We should leave now sir!” The youngster exclaimed with unbridled, unnatural glee.

Belegorn was less enthusiastic. First things first,

“Egad! How old are you boy? What are you doing with a sword? Don’t you have other toys to play with?”

The boy recoiled as if caught in surprise by a poisonous snake. He quickly recovered his composure and replied haughtily, “The name’s Nevhith, son of Torgar! I will be turning fourteen next spring, sir. And this… This is no toy! I was invited into the king’s army this morning and this is my weapon. I will kill orcs with it! Hah!”

He swung his sword menacingly through the air to emphasize his point before adopting a stance that he thought would exemplify his battle-readiness. Belegorn thought he looked like a frog, armed with an extra large tooth-pick…

‘********************

Belegorn waked slowly pass the assembled men, scrutinizing each face intently. The soldiers were adorned in light chain mail shirts and heavy cloaks. Aside from their swords and daggers, they would be carrying no other weapon for what they were about to embark on was a mission of exploration and not battle. Possibilities of encounters with the enemy were slight, or so claimed by the king’s agents who planned this bizarre mission.

Whoever heard of food hunts in an underground series of deserted caves?

As Belegorn brushed pass each face, he could smell the odor of dried perspiration and multitudes of bandaged wounds gone funky. The men stared passively ahead, well drilled in ways of military ceremony and discipline, but the lieutenant knew only too well that they were all dying to scratch themselves in the most awkward of places. Nevhith son of Torgar grinned, Belegorn ignored him. All the men of the severely reduced Rearguard were already injured in one way or another and these few together with some militia volunteers were the remaining ones capable of and bearing arms. Not the most pleasing to the eye, but they would have to do.

Resigned to fate, rather than being pleased, Belegorn cleared his throat dramatically and addressed the troops,

“Men! This mission comes from the King himself! We are to venture into the lower levels of this dwarven stronghold and to seek out whatever resources that are of use to us and appropriate them. But leave any sarcophagus or burial ground alone! The last things I want are stunted specters chasing us!”

Belegorn paused for effect but no one took the bait, his attempt at humor failed miserably. He droned on,

“The caves and tunnels are dark and slippery so watch your footing. Torches to spare are limited so stick close to one another and look out for more on the mission.”

Finished with his address, Belegorn ordered eight of the men in the front row to pry open the metal doors that led to the destination of their supposed objectives. The men grunted and strained before the twin doors finally creaked and moaned before parting. A cold draft blew into the hall and torches flicked.

Belegorn was the first to enter.

03-20-2005, 05:04 AM	#18
Saurreg Shade of Carn Dûm Join Date: Oct 2002 Location: In self imposed exile... Posts: 465	Belegorn tilted his head back and regarded the ceiling of the underground hall in awe. He raised his torch in a vain attempt to illuminate the ceiling but quickly recognized the futility of his insignificant act. Unless a towering scaffold was erected and a wide brimmed cauldron of flaming oil placed on it, there was no way he could scrutinize the dwavern rock carvings with adequate lighting. Great were the crafts of the masters of stone, thought Belegorn admiringly as he continued to view the inspiring works of art above him, turning his head this way and that like a tourist in a strange but wonderful place. “Magnificent!” The wide-eyed man remarked aloud idly to himself, “Simply magnificent!” A shrill and youthful voice chirped excitingly, “My lord Lieutenant! The exploration party has been assembled. Twenty men strong as ordered ssarrr!” Belegorn shuddered as the nasal voice cracked at the last noun. He looked towards its source, eyes squinting and mildly irritated by one as audacious as to interrupt his private moment of awe and contemplation. The messenger turned out to be a red-cropped, pimpled faced youth, short and skinny. He looked at belegorn in a pleased manner and smiled cheekily. But this boy wasn’t any errand boy of the moment, scampering to deliver a message to the most ferocious man in the vicinity for a token or two. This was a boy clad in an ill-fitting leather hauberk and brandishing a blunt twin-edged blade. The youth saw that Belegorn was eyeing him and his crooked grin drew even wider. “We should leave now sir!” The youngster exclaimed with unbridled, unnatural glee. Belegorn was less enthusiastic. First things first, “Egad! How old are you boy? What are you doing with a sword? Don’t you have other toys to play with?” The boy recoiled as if caught in surprise by a poisonous snake. He quickly recovered his composure and replied haughtily, “The name’s Nevhith, son of Torgar! I will be turning fourteen next spring, sir. And this… This is no toy! I was invited into the king’s army this morning and this is my weapon. I will kill orcs with it! Hah!” He swung his sword menacingly through the air to emphasize his point before adopting a stance that he thought would exemplify his battle-readiness. Belegorn thought he looked like a frog, armed with an extra large tooth-pick… ‘******************** Belegorn waked slowly pass the assembled men, scrutinizing each face intently. The soldiers were adorned in light chain mail shirts and heavy cloaks. Aside from their swords and daggers, they would be carrying no other weapon for what they were about to embark on was a mission of exploration and not battle. Possibilities of encounters with the enemy were slight, or so claimed by the king’s agents who planned this bizarre mission. Whoever heard of food hunts in an underground series of deserted caves? As Belegorn brushed pass each face, he could smell the odor of dried perspiration and multitudes of bandaged wounds gone funky. The men stared passively ahead, well drilled in ways of military ceremony and discipline, but the lieutenant knew only too well that they were all dying to scratch themselves in the most awkward of places. Nevhith son of Torgar grinned, Belegorn ignored him. All the men of the severely reduced Rearguard were already injured in one way or another and these few together with some militia volunteers were the remaining ones capable of and bearing arms. Not the most pleasing to the eye, but they would have to do. Resigned to fate, rather than being pleased, Belegorn cleared his throat dramatically and addressed the troops, “Men! This mission comes from the King himself! We are to venture into the lower levels of this dwarven stronghold and to seek out whatever resources that are of use to us and appropriate them. But leave any sarcophagus or burial ground alone! The last things I want are stunted specters chasing us!” Belegorn paused for effect but no one took the bait, his attempt at humor failed miserably. He droned on, “The caves and tunnels are dark and slippery so watch your footing. Torches to spare are limited so stick close to one another and look out for more on the mission.” Finished with his address, Belegorn ordered eight of the men in the front row to pry open the metal doors that led to the destination of their supposed objectives. The men grunted and strained before the twin doors finally creaked and moaned before parting. A cold draft blew into the hall and torches flicked. Belegorn was the first to enter. Last edited by Saurreg; 03-21-2005 at 09:06 AM.