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Excerpts From the Saga |
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Heroes of My Campaign:
Arteram: Hero of The Sword
Foran, Cleric
Jerith, Derin (halfling), Thief
Yoll, Ondonti (good orc), Fighter
Aylar, Half Elf, Fighter/Mage
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The Story of Mechus
How the heroes defeated the scarecrow lord
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Alister was the most respected artificer in Crithinica. He designed and constructed the clock in the city square. It was the most exquisite metalwork the city had ever seen. When the hours chimed life-sized articulate figures representing famous rulers and warriors would emerge and perform. His creations never failed to amaze but his next would surely make him worthy of worship. Mechus was as fully articulate as any living being. He walked, jumped, and climbed stairs as easily as any human. Other artificers would be amazed with the creation of something so lifelike but to Alister it was not enough. What good was the ability to walk if his creation only knew how to walk into walls. He needed to give it reasoning. Discovering no mechanical way to do this, he turned to magic.
Magic was not easy to obtain in Crithinica. The Council of the Magi forbid anyone outside their school to practice it. Magic in the wrong hands is exceedingly dangerous. The Council made sure that those who would wield it first must pass tests of character and will. Obtaining the scrolls had cost Alister quite a sum. Little did he know it had cost his middleman his life. An evil wizard does not take lightly to having his library invaded.
Now the answer was upon him. He placed two of the scrolls side by side for comparison. Yes, there it was, he could combine the incantations within these scrolls to give his creation a mind. He wasted no time, he copied the necessary runes onto one parchment. He brought them to the spot where Mechus stood awaiting activation. He recited the incantations word for word syllable for syllable. As he did he could sense the power seeping from the parchment and drifting towards Mechus where it embedded itself in the joints and gears.
Mechus lifted his hand in front of his head. He appeared to stare at it although his face was devoid of eyes or any other feature. He turned to his creator and spoke. “You, you are the one who has given me life. I am greatly in your debt. Surely you have made me for some purpose let me know of it so I may serve it.”
Alister stood stupefied. He never thought that Mechus would have a voice, such is the unpredictable nature of magic. The overwhelming success of his endeavor surfaced and he collected himself. “As a matter of fact you have. You will be my assistant in the workshop.” he scanned the room for something to test Mechus’s strength. His eye caught the massive stone block that was his worktable. “Your first task is to lift that and move it to the other side of the room.”
Mechus did so effortlessly. Alister was overjoyed with the implications. This is it, no more making clocks for the amusement of the city dwellers. Now I have a source of power, soon to be in demand. I can provide the city with builders, miners and soldiers. No facet of life will go unchanged in the face of this creation, a nearly indestructible obedient servant.
Alister kept Mechus continuously working. By day he would work side by side with Alister. By night he would maintain the workshop. He never failed to obey an instruction. By and by there was less work to be done during the night as Mechus had finished tasks Alister had been putting aside for months or even years.
When Mechus finally ran out of instruction, he found his master’s library. He quickly deciphered the scripts. He absorbed the information within the texts like a sponge. New worlds outside of servitude suddenly opened for him. He studied long into the night.
In the morning Alister awoke to find Mechus at his desk. Alister’s magic scrolls were laid out before him. Mechus was so absorbed in the reading he did immediately heed to his master.
Alister stood over Mechus casting a dissaproving glare.
Mechus, not understanding Alister’s expression , simply beamed “I see how you did it. How you created me. Ingenius really, but quite simple actually.”
Alister, was infuriated by what he interpreted as insolence. In a fit of rage he stormed into his workshop and swept the alchemy bench with his arm. Glass shattered and deadly chemicals mixed together producing an explosion. Alister shielded himself from the blast. The pain of the burns he immediately channeled toward his creation.
“You ingrate. As my creation you are to await instruction at all times. That is all you need your mind for.”
A pounding sounded at the door. A soldier’s voice bellowed “Open your door. We have reason to believe you are engaging in activities that will endanger the city. Explosions were heard from this residence.”
Alister’s mind raced. If they got inside they would discover his experimentation with magic. The prospect of the Crithinican dungeons was a frightening one but never being able to continue his work was a fate far worse than death.
“If you do not respond, we will be forced to break down this door!”
Desperately, Alister pounded his fists against Mechus’s brazen form, commanding “Mechus, when they enter, you must kill them! Protect me Mechus!.”
The soldiers began pounding on the door.
“Is this the nature of life, is it necessary to kill other life?”
The door gave way with in seconds and crashed to the floor. The soldiers rushed down the stairs.
“Mechus, you must kill, I command you to kill!”
The soldiers reached the bottom of the stairs. They stood stupefied as Mechus approached them. He paused as he stood before the two puzzled soldiers I have only been alive a short while and now I must take life.
One larger of the soldiers struck Mechus but his sword only bent itself around Mechus’ metallic carapace. Mechus punched clean through the soldier’s breastplate. Removing his arm, he found it covered in blood. It was the first time he had seen it. He looked down and saw a pool of it growing beneath the fallen soldier. It was horrible.
The second soldier dropped his weapon which clanged against the flagstone floor. Mechus turned to look at him. His face was twisted in horror.
“What are you doing? You know what is necessary. You know you’ll be disassembled if you let him live. Stop wasting your time.”
Mechus turned his head and brought his arm crashing down upon the guard’s head. Metal dented metal and his skull caved in. All the while Alister looked on in relief with a hint of satisfaction.
“Now, Mechus, clean this mess. We can’t have anyone finding out about this. We’ll simply drop these bodies in an alley. That way anyone is suspect, least of all us.”
“No, I want no further part of this.” Mechus stood staring at the fallen soldiers.
“What? You can’t just deny me. I created you.” Alister approached Mechus. “and don’t forget the blood is on your hands.”
“Only because you were too weak to stain yourself. I‘ll fix that.” Mechus threw Alister to the ground with his blood smeared hand. You think you’re some kind of god. Let me enlighten you. A god creates because he is powerful. You create because you’re powerless.”
Mechus started toward Alister’s desk. Alister helpless against his own creation, lay on the floor making no protest. Mechus took a traveling bag and stuffed it full of various tools. He also took a few choice magical scrolls leaving several incriminating ones on the desk. He wrapped himself with Alister’s cloak and headed to the stairs.
“Mechus, where are you going. Don’t you know what will happen to me?”
“I don’t care.” Mechus spat in his hollow voice. “I don’t care about you or your cursed kind.
Now Yoll was fully captivated. “I must hear more of these knights and their valor.” The mongrelman nodded. “I will tell you more. I will tell you of the greatest knight of Crithea. Once long ago when Crithinica was young the good dragons dealt with the great evils that threatened mankind. They believed they had to for at this time humans were too selfish and chaotic to save themselves. There was little order or reason. But there was one man who stood out among them Arteram. Arteram never broke an oath, he never killed without necessity, he always deferred himself to a lady no matter what her status, he never kept more for himself that he needed, and he always kept faith with the gods. Other warriors of the time laughed at his example that is until they saw the great power his faith and honor granted him in battle. He could heal the wounded with a touch and with a sacred word banish great evil. Others soon joined him in his exercises of prayer and self-denial. They were the founding members of the Knights of Arteram. By and by the dragons of good learned of a Dark One and his plans to obtain powers beyond the gods themselves. In the Knights of Arteram, they found humans worthy of accompanying them into battle. And so each dragon took a human as a rider. The Supreme Dragon, Ghidros, chose Arteram to fight with him against the Dark One. With knights and dragons fighting as one they easily cut through the ranks of evil dragons. Soon Arteram and Ghidros came face to face with the Dark One. Even the power of the greatest Knight known to Crithea and the Supreme Dragon could not match the Dark One’s power. He struck Ghidros a mortal blow. With the Dark One’s armies in ruins and the Supreme Dragon dying, both sides retreated. Arteram stood by Ghidros, he swore he would not give up the fight against the Dark One. With that Ghidros dedicated all his energy to destroying the Dark One and focused it into the crystal embedded in his head. This crystal is what identifies and gives power to the Supreme Dragon. He told Arteram that if the crystal was embedded in the hilt of a sword the sword would be capable of defeating The Dark One. He began to give very specific instructions on how to forge such a weapon. When Ghidros was finished he presented the crystal to Arteram and fell dead. Arteram set out immediately to carry out the will of Ghidros. He travelled deep into the heart of Rockmire to have the sword forged of pure tyrim, and the crystal inset, by the finest Dwarven smiths. He carried the sword, still hot with the fire of the world’s center, to the forest of Arwood to cool it in the sacred springs. He then crossed the Upper Plateau to Ezermoria where the Gnomes plated the hilt with the finest aurum and mithril and adorned it with precious gems. The sword was completed in Crithinica where it was inscribed with powerful spells and blessed by the high priests. Arteram approached The Dark One’s Tower alone and The Dark One met him like wise. Ateram was not afraid. He had spent days in prayer with the sword. His will, the will of Ghidros, the will of the Gods and that of the sword were one. They could not fail. As he walked toward The Dark One pain wracked his body, evil magic surged through him. Nevertheless he continued unrelenting. He ran The Dark One through effortlessly and collapsed. He would have died knowing he had slew the evil once and for all but as he prepared to breathe his last he heard The Dark One swear a terrible dying oath. He swore there would be a successor to his throne who must be defeated thrice. Clutching the sword Arteram leaped to his feat. Determined, he summoned the last of his strength to make it back to Crithinica. Upon presenting the sword to the high priest he fell dead.
Aylar and Jerith had not been gone a few minutes when Yoll saw someone step into the clearing. It was a knight of Hastorn, he bore their symbol on his tunic draped over his suit of chainmail. He was followed by a tall rather large man draped in white cloth carrying a silver staff. Must be a cleric. One who worships the celestial gods. Yoll thought. The knight looked up at Yoll as he walked into the clearing.
"An orc! I won't stop until I've seen the last of you on the upper plateau." said the knight as he drew his sword and advanced towards Yoll.
Yoll began to shake uncontrollably. He dropped his sword.
"Ha! I knew you were all cowards at heart. Sure, you pillage and burn villages when you have superior numbers but when you're faced with a fair fight all you can do is cower."
"Fight!? I'm not here for a fight." Yoll managed to get out.
"Oh really, an orc, not here for a fight! Then what are you here for?"
“I am simply waiting for my friends.” stammered Yoll.
“I knew it. There are more of you.” Arturo raised his sword. “Well you will be one less orc to deal with.”
“Arturo, stop!” Cried Aylar as he stepped into the clearing. “This is my friend Yoll and I will not have you treat him this way.”
“This is an orc!” growled Arturo.
“Yoll is an Ondonti, the fabled noble race of orc. He has is coming with us to free Arwood from the vile orcs. I trust him Arturo. Don’t you trust me?”
Reluctantly, Arturo sheathed his sword. “I trust you Aylar. If you say he is a good man, I believe you.” Looking around him, Arturo was not sure if he could believe himself. Jerith had just stepped into the clearing. Arturo could now see the entire adventuring party. These are my fellow adventurers!? A filthly orc, a thief and ... I should have just completed my training in Crithinica. Aylar must be crazy. I must be crazy for joining him.
“Now I will tell you why I brought you here.” announced Aylar. “It seems that in my own forest of Arwood there have been evil doings. The forest itself seems corrupted as if by the presence of some great evil. A dark mage or dragon perhaps, I don’t know. But there are also been reports that Elven villages have been raided by orcs in numbers greater than ever before in the upper plateau. I want you to come with me so we can banish whatever is causing this.”
Yes. The mystical benevolent forest is in danger and its up to us to do something. This is why I left Hastorn, this is my quest. “I will join you Aylar, we will all join you.”
With that the adventurers were united. Within minutes they cleared their camp and set off down the winding forest path.
Jerith drew his dagger and prepared to throw. No sooner did he meet the eyes of his target he dropped his dagger and stood motionless. Yoll was next to fall victim to the chilling gaze as he rushed at the scarecrow, sword drawn.
Now the scarecrow turned its chilling gaze toward Arturo. Aturo stared back. I am not afraid. I will not let this control me. Arturo gripped his sword and lunged at the monster. He slashed at the terrifying animation. Each of his strikes were met skillfully by the scarecrow’s sickles. Arturo’s attack wore itself out within moments. Now the deadly sickles swung at Arturo. Arturo stumbled backward as he parried each blow. This foe was not like the others, it had strategy, it had a mind. It was the overlord. Arturo fell back against the wall of the windmill. As he felt his strength fading he caught a glance of Yoll staring blankly behind the scarecrow.
Arturo made a desperate plea. "Yoll. Don’t let your fear betray us. You have it inside of you to break free." Arturo thought he saw him tremble but remain held by fear.
Now the scarecrow was upon him. The scarecrow hacked and slashed at Arturo. He knew by fighting he was only delaying the moment he would be hacked to pieces but Arturo knew no other way to die. Arturo locked blades with the apparition. He felt himself thrown back and his sword was wrenched form his grasp, clattering to the floor. Now the scarecrow loomed over him. The scarecrow raised its weapon and in the same instant was split open, straw flying everywhere. The scarecrow fell limply to the ground, the blue light in its eye sockets flickered and faded, behind the monster stood Yoll.
The cleric planted his staff into the floor, bowed his head and began to pray. He could feel his God’s strength enter him, filling him with the power to smite the apparition. When at last the words to the proper spell came to him he raised his head and thrust his staff toward the scarecrow. Looking into the eye sockets of the hideous skull atop the scarecrow, Foran saw two pinpoints of blue light. Suddenly the words to the spell vanished. Foran tried to thrust his staff at the scarecrow but found he could not move his arms. Foran was held frozen in fear, the scarecrow’s gaze chilling his soul.
