3. Tales of a Warrior of Tyr

Tales of a Warrior of Tyr


  • Hey folks, I know I haven't written a story in a while, but here's a bit of something I came up. I figured I'd start banding all of Talgrath's stories into one thread, instead of scattering them all about. This first story deals with current events, but I'll probably toss in some tales about his days as a mercenary too. Enjoy!

    Prove It

    ((This is a story dealing mostly with my character, Talgrath’s inner thoughts. There is a bit of fighting, but it’s mostly just a bit of writing to help clarify my thoughts on him and maybe give some others some OOC insight into how he lives and thinks. I hope you enjoy, if you have any comments, positive or negative, PM me, reply to the story, or e-mail me at Talgrath@yahoo.com))

    Talgrath stood in the Fighter’s Academy in Peltarch. Around him, several other members of the guard or Defenders, as well as a few citizens, trained on archery targets, practice dummies, and, with blunted weapons, each other.

    Talgrath ran through his usual stretches, his muscles taut like steel cords, letting his muscles loosen up. Just like everyone else, he was here to train. He was shirtless; he found that he ruined too many tunics trying new movements while training. He was probably going to have to have his current tunic resized to accommodate when strength spells were cast upon him. He shrugged to push such thoughts from his head; he had to be completely focused on this.

    He scooped his longsword and shield up from the floor. He began to strike at the practice dummy in front of him, running through light, easy strikes to warm up. As he began to work through his attack routines, he began to strike harder, still maintaining his balance. His muscles ripple under their covering of scars, working together to add more accuracy and strength to his strikes.

    Despite his focus, his thoughts inevitably wandered to the creatures he had struck down over the years. For a moment, he saw the dummy as a kobold, then a goblin, then an orc, it continued like this, he began to see the many foes he had fought in his life. His hair, unbound for this practice, begins to drip with sweat as he begins to truly work through the attack routine. His thoughts once more began to wander.

    “Nobody understands what I’m trying to do. I’m just trying to do what is right, what’s just. For that, I have to be perfect. I can’t let a single flaw slip in. I can’t stop pushing myself, I can’t stop risking it. I have to prove it, I have to prove that I am a great warrior of Tyr, I have to prove that I’m able to keep Peltarch safe, I have to keep everyone safe,” he thought as he kept running through the attack routines.

    “Steel within, Steel without, that’s our motto!” Verkauth’s proud declaration of the guiding principle of the Steel Hand, Talgrath’s guiding principle, echoed in his head.

    Talgrath didn’t notice it, but the others training at the Fighter’s Academy had stopped to watch him. Every strike at the dummy chipped off a piece of wood. Every blow seemed to gain strength. One of the other Defenders in the room sneered as he watched though; he muttered “Damn show off.”

    Talgrath’s mind snapped forward in time, to the falling rocks, to the death of his beloved Allaquondae. His next swing cleanly took of the right arm of the combat dummy. Again his mind snapped forward, to that poor little girl that was slain by cultists years ago, while he was helpless to do anything. The next swing took off the left arm. His mind snapped forward again, to the death of the woman named Vanya to that spider, to his latest failure. His next swing took off the combat dummy’s head. He suddenly snapped back to his training.

    This was how the blade was supposed to be angled to launch the new attack he had been working on. He snapped his blade arm far back, and angled his shield in front of his blade, if the combat dummy was capable of sight, it wouldn’t have been able to see Talgrath’s blade, hidden behind the massive metal shield. Just as quickly, he snapped his longsword forward in a lunge, pulling his shield aside just in time to not skewer himself, instead, his blade buried itself deep in the remains of the combat dummy, splitting the post down the center. He looked at the damage he had wrought long and hard, and frowned. The initial attack should land like that, but to use the secondary, and truly devasting part of the attack, he would need a live opponent to test it upon.

    He drew back his blade and sheathed it, then looked around. Sweat dripped from the dark halo of his hair, and he breathed heavily as he stood there, his muscles and scars on display. Suddenly, a member of the crowd began to clap. Talgrath looked over to see one of the other Defenders, he had dark skin, and his black hair was close cropped. He had a short cut mustache. He sneered as he walked up, his badge displayed prominently around his neck. Another member of the Defenders walked up behind him “Look, it ain’t worth it Cervante, just drop it.”

    “Shut up Gerald, this show off isn’t anything more than a fake, a would-be hero,” Cervante snapped, his voice having a deep, Tethyrian accent. “So, Talgrath, oh mighty hero, what do you have to say?”

    “Ya’re right, I’m not a hero. I wish I was, but I’m not.” Talgrath replied.

    Cervante looked at Talgrath with a surprised look for a moment, then sneered “Oh, I get it, trying to be humble are you?”

    Talgrath sighed and shook his head, “I’m not in the mood for this,” he thought.

    “You think you’re better then us, don’t you?” Cervante said in an accusatory tone.

    “Look, I just said I’m not. Shut your mouth, I’m not in the mood for this,” Talgrath replied as he turned away to get his tunic.

    “I will not be silenced! You wanna shut me up? Prove that you can fight. Then fight me, fight me you fake hero. Fight me you glory hound. Fight me you coward!” Cervante shouted.

    Talgrath dropped his tunic at this and snapped back, “Fine then you idiot, we’ll use wooden practice swords, I don’t wanna kill ya.”

    “Oh how generous oh mighty lord,” Cervante replied with a sneer, his voice caustically sarcastic.

    Talgrath walked over to a rack holding the practice swords and picked out one meant to look like a longsword. Cervante picked up the same, and then motioned for one of his friends to hand him his shield. Talgrath stretched, his muscles looking taut like steel cords as Cervante got ready.

    Cervante took on a standard stance with his practice sword and shield, his shield angled to deflect a blow, his longsword ready to strike in a horizontal fashion. Talgrath took his stance, one vastly different to Cervante’s. He put his towershield far forward, holding it out at length, and pulled his sword far back, hiding it behind his shield. For most other people, this would be a terrible strain, a difficult stance to hold, due simply to the weight of the shield and sword; he called this stance “The Hidden Wrath”. Talgrath held that stance for several moments, the room was silent. “Are you going to hold that stance all day coward?” Cervante taunted Talgrath.

    With a snarl, Talgrath charged forward, he struck, just like before, pulling shield aside just in time to not hit himself, he angled his blade to go past his opponent’s shield, forcing him to move to the right. “The fool! He’s overbalanced now, there’s no way for him to recover, this fight is over already!” thought Cervante.

    It was thus that he was very surprised when Talgrath executed the secondary part of his attack, with incredible speed for a man of his size; Talgrath snapped his blade to the right, into Cervante’s side. Talgrath’s muscle’s bulged as he struck, putting all his strength into the blow, to the amazement of everyone, Cervante’s feet left the floor. Talgrath turned as he struck, adding his body weight to the blow. For a moment, time seemed to stand still, everyone looking on with amazement, as Cervante’s flew several feet across the room, landing on his back with a grunt of pain as the last air he had in him exited his body.

    The spell broke, and several people rushed over to Cervante as he gasped for air, trying to recover. One quickly got his tunic off, a bruise covering his entire side was quickly forming, an ugly and purple reminder of the incredible hit. Talgrath, seemingly calm, placed his practice sword on the rack, then walked over to a bucket full of water, and dunked his head in, then ran a wet rag over his body to wipe off the sweat.

    “You…you’re not human,” Cervante said, coughing as he tried to return to normal breathing.

    “I am, I’m just a bit strong for a human, and a bit quick, I suppose,” Talgrath shrugged, walking over to don get fully dressed and gather his things.

    “I’m glad you’re on our side,” Cervante stated, his breathing returned to normal, his voice now containing a small bit of awe.

    Talgrath glanced over, giving a small smile, before leaving the Academy. “That was a good hit, but it wasn’t perfect, I’ll have to focus more on the second part tomorrow…” as usual, his thoughts after his practice session turned to improving himself, and his sword-work style. He couldn’t let himself give up, he couldn’t stop, not even if he wanted to, not even if it destroyed him.


  • To Blame

    I know I’m not to blame. The wedding was ruined by things beyond my control, my father, Atol, and the Dark Enchantress all have wills of their own and all decided to come. I couldn’t have known what would occur, and I couldn’t have stopped it. That doesn’t comfort me much though.

    Because of who I am, our wedding was ruined; what should have been a bright day for me and Merydian turned into a nightmare. Because I’m Talgrath, my father, though in illusion form, showed himself and threatened to take our first child. Because my father came, the Dark Enchantress showed up.

    How am I supposed to make this right? Merydian seems inconsolable, but I can’t just stop being who I am, I can’t just stop trying to do good things; nor can I just suddenly not have the father I have anymore. How can I stop a man who seems to be able to reach out from the grave to ruin my life? How am I supposed to protect my family from who I am? I’ve tried so hard to keep the dangers of my life separate from my family, but it appears the dangers are now leaking into my private life.

    I’ve devoted my life to learning the ways of the blade, becoming a powerful warrior, what am I to do when my blade is useless? How do I fight a foe that appears to be immortal? All I can do is pray to Tyr, I suppose, and see if my friends can’t help me.

    At the same time, I can’t help but wonder about the past, something I generally try to avoid. I’ve always thought that looking back at one’s past was a waste of time, but I find myself curious as to what really did happen in the past. Who was my mother? Where was I born? Rufus said that my father used to worship Tyr, what happened to my father to twist him so? What the hells happened to mess things up like this? Who or what’s to blame for all of this?


  • Assault and Betrayal

    ((Note: This is dramatic storytelling and while it is based off of actual IG occurrences it is not really very accurate at all. Warning: Blood and gore.))

    Talgrath looked out over the gap between his now taken home and where he stood. Behind him, a force consisting of everything from trained soldiers, to adventurers, to scared peasants and everything in-between. He looked out over them, and shouted their orders, find the loyal Defenders and take back the city. He took his place at the head of group 3, and began the assault…

    The arrow passed straight through the mage’s throat and out through the back of his skull. Talgrath pulled out another arrow and launched it at the next target on the wall, but it was obvious they wouldn’t be able to keep this up for too long with all the mages and archers on the wall; they had to get inside and up close and personal. “Get inside the gates!”

    Talgrath began running towards the gate right, firing as he moved with veteran precision and ease. One arrow pierced an Elven throat and another punched through a human arm, another caught someone, he couldn’t tell what they were, in the gut, sending them plunging down the wall.

    He reached the gate first and kicked it open, switching weapons with a few swift moments. A group of mercenaries were there, ready for him; the odds were bad, but of course the mercenaries had chosen to take his home so he couldn’t feel bad for them. Talgrath charged without hesitation, the first one on his left he tossed aside with a bash from his shield, sending him to smack against the wall and fall into unconsciousness, the one to his left was less fortunate as Talgrath’s longsword found a kink in his armor and left him desperately trying to keep his intestines within his body. That left three still standing before Talgrath and they were a bit smarter, backing up and forming a wall to try and keep him from hitting their armors’ weak spots; a pity for them that to Talgrath everything is a weak spot. He crouched back, his longsword behind his shield and charged, as if he planned to shield bash his opponents to try and break their wall, at the last moment he stopped suddenly as their blades began to descend and brought his longsword into the gut of the one on his right, punching right through his armor. The man to his left received the edge of a shield to the face while the blade of the mercenary in the middle just barely skidded off of Talgrath’s armor sending up a shower of sparks. By the time the two remaining mercenaries could shake off their shock the Narswoman was beside Talgrath; slaying the one that was now bleeding from his mouth while Talgrath brought his blade around to decapitate the mercenary in front of him, showering the area in blood.

    “Regroup inside the gates! REGROUP!” Talgrath shouted over the din of battle.

    They needed healing supplies. That’s why they charged into the Temple of Tyr; the center of worship for hundreds of Tyrrans that had been desecrated by the foul traitors. Talgrath had hated spilling the blood of traitors and a good portion of his own, onto the ground of this holy building but he had been left with no choice. Now a man he thought was dead, David, one of his own had been found disguised in Black Dragon Knight armor. Talgrath came up with a plan.

    Everything was in place, “Hammer” and the dwarf with them lay on the ground, laying dead. He and Kara were poised near the door and others hid behind pillars, ready to strike. Then Captain Gor and his men piled in through the door and all hell broke loose. They were ready for combat and obviously knew what they were doing. Hammer and the dwarf were killed before they could get up, and the fight was on. Blades clashed, blood was spilled, but it was obvious these men were not here to try and slaughter those who opposed them, they were trying to escape; and thusly they ran past. “It looks like your man turned traitor.”

    “No, David wouldn’t do that. They must have figured out the ploy and killed him.”

    They had searched the entire basement. They didn’t find David’s body, though they did find the healing supplies they needed; David was a traitor. How could one of his own men turn traitor? Talgrath felt his anger rise as he thought of it, how could one of his own men betray him? Talgrath pushed it downwards with hard-earned discipline though, he had to remain focused, and he had a city to retake. Justice would come to those who betrayed his home and his trust, he vowed they would pay.


  • ((I know I haven't written anything recently, but not too much in the way of major has occured in Tal's life. I hope you enjoy it, I'm sure more will come soon. EDIT: Oh, and this is a Peltarch Civil War Story))

    Innocent Sacrifice

    Talgrath looked over the conscripts on the field below him, his helmet was off and his grimy face was grim. He had two days to finish training these people; two days to whip people who barely knew which end of a sword to poke their opponents with into a fighting force that might live through the battle. Sure, there was the occasional adventurer or those who had some fighting experience in the group, but on the whole it was just a bunch of scared peasants who had been armed and armored. This was going to be a slaughter, and he knew it but he if he didn’t do his part this plan would have no chance. He saw no other alternative aside from disobeying the council and becoming a traitor himself; all he could do was try his best to make sure these innocent men and women of Peltarch survived as he had vowed to Tyr and to Peltarch to do.

    There were three groups below him, under direct command of his three men still in good shape; Phillip was still recovering from the treatment of his arm that had been crushed under a beam. Daisy had done her work well, but it would be a few days before he was in any condition to fight and by that time it would be too late. The men below him had moved on from being taught the simple “city guard” shield wall technique to practicing against combat dummies, and it was quite obvious that most of them had no idea what the hell they were doing. He’d shout out tips to them, but for the most part the conscripts were obviously not skilled enough to stand up against mercenaries, much less Defenders.

    He shook his head and his mind momentarily drifted to other things, and first and foremost in his mind was Koreth. He had caused all of this, that traitor, that absolute scum. He had known Koreth was trouble, he had known it in his gut and now he had a bad feeling about this assault. But he would get that bastard, that defiler of Tyr’s good name, that traitor to everything and everyone in Peltarch; he had to be brought to justice. He felt the rage within his heart rise and coalesce and he felt his body tense up, this brought him back to focus and his next comment was almost a shout of rage, “Keep that shield up while you swing!”

    A sacrifice of innocent people to take back a city, no matter how Talgrath tried he didn’t like it. He kept going over all the logical reasons; they had chosen this, this was part of the plan, but no matter how he tried a voice in the back of his head kept screaming “this is wrong!” Talgrath knew he wouldn’t be sleeping for a few days, and possibly for the next few weeks if things went the way he thought they would. It was a small sacrifice for Peltarch, he supposed. “Angle your shield or a blade will tear right through it into your arm!…”


  • Memories of the Past 1

    ((These tales are really just random stories from Talgrath’s past before he came to Narfell, I hope you enjoy.))

    Years ago, near the town of Reedpass in the Silver Marches….

    Talgrath stood upon his favorite hill in his suit of studded leather, a dark green cloak draped across his large form. Even at 14, Talgrath stood at 6’6”, and his young frame was already strong and proud. At length, a much smaller and hunched form approached him from the town of Reedpass below him. After some time the form reached him, and Talgrath looked over at him. The priest named Darm, who had helped to raise him, was now old and heavily hunched, he had a scraggly white beard, his head was and had been completely bald for some time now from a fireball in his younger years; what was formerly an athletic form was now reduced to skin and meat hanging from bones by a debilitating disease.

    “I hear you plan to leave with the caravan tomorrow, Taly,” said the wizened old priest.

    “What business is it of yours, old man? I’m not staying at the temple anymore,” Talgrath replied, “and it’s Talgrath, Taly sounds childish.”

    “You are still a child though.”

    “Fark off. If you’re here to mock me, I suggest you just limp on back to your temple,” Talgrath replied angrily.

    “I am merely here to ask why, I helped to raise you, I deserve that much at least, don’t I?”

    “I suppose so, Darm,” Talgrath replied with resignation. “The fight with the goblins made me realize something, that I’m better then this damn town. That’s why I was shunned for so many damn years, because I’m special, I’m better then these people. I’m going to go to Waterdeep and become a mercenary.”

    “and being a mercenary will prove that you are better?”

    “When I’m rich and famous and powerful, it’ll show that I was, am, and always will be better then these people, yes Darm,” he stated, “but I’ll also thoroughly enjoy just doing the fighting and earning the coin.”

    “I see. I wonder what you will think in two decades, good luck Talgrath; you will be in my prayers.”

    Darm walked back down the hill, leaving Talgrath with his thoughts and the wind. At the time, Talgrath thought that was all he needed in life…


  • Frustration

    Peltarch cries out for order, for aid, for help; and I am helpless to do anything. The Defenders are divided, they follow whichever Captain they like and fight each other like common thugs; it’s disgraceful and I can’t stop it. As an officer in the Defenders, my power to order them to stop is limited and nobody will listen otherwise. While the Defenders are disorganized, various groups begin to act, and I feel they act against Peltarch; my home. Most frustrating of all, I cannot reach the truth, I find out bits of information slowly and I don’t know how to put it all together; I don’t have a clear picture of what is going on.

    I pray to Tyr to ask for guidance, something that I feel uncomfortable with as I feel that arrogant to ask for a god to help me, but I am desperate to help Peltarch. I do not know if Tyr will answer my prayers, but I will keep trying anyway; I just worry that my actions will not be enough to save my home from strife.


  • The Visions, Part 4

    Talgrath found himself in the room within the fortress again. The window was still open, but there were no hordes to be seen, the sky seemed darker somehow now though; though Talgrath couldn’t point to anything specific, it seemed like a menacing pall now. He glanced back behind him, and again saw his mirror-image, his evil double.

    “Have you considered my words?” inquired evil Talgrath.

    “Like I’d waste time considering such dreams? Such dreams lead to needless bloodshed and pain.” Talgrath replied.

    “I didn’t think you would, it’s a true pity. So, accomplished anything to speak of lately?”

    “It’s none of your business,” Talgrath replied.

    “I didn’t think you had. You couldn’t even ensure that that drow woman got a fair trial, could you? You’re some Tyrran.”

    “Shove it. I can’t control everything,” Talgrath spat.

    “No, of course not, you could if you seized what should be yours, of course, but you won’t. You see, that’s your problem, Talgrath, you’re always making excuses for your failures.”

    “I’ve always taken responsibility for when I messed up or was wrong.”

    “Did you take responsibility for Emma?” evil Talgrath sneered.

    “I did everything possible to rescue Emma. I failed to rescue her, but I don’t know if I could have unless we had gone immediately into lizard lands, and even then it might have been too late.”

    “Keep telling yourself that, Talgrath, someday you might believe it,” taunted evil Talgrath.

    “Shut up!”

    “Defensive anger, I hit a nerve,” replied evil Talgrath condescendingly, “Face it, you haven’t done one great thing in your entire life. Your attempts to make up for your past crimes, your attempts to earn Tyr’s redemption, have all failed. You are nothing Talgrath. Should you die tomorrow the world would be no better or worse of a place.”

    Talgrath woke up, and looked around his room. He noticed his son, Lucian, sleeping on the other bed in the room. He smiled a bit to himself, and thought “I’ve done at least one thing right in my life; hopefully that’s enough.”


  • The Visions, Part 3

    Again he saw the robed figure, but now things seemed hazy, and the figure seemed farther away. Again it spoke with a voice neither male nor female, “He is interfering.”

    “I must show you to the next-“ its voice suddenly cuts out, like somebody had suddenly put a wall between the figure and Talgrath.

    An image appears, familiar to Talgrath; ruins near Ormpur, by a ravine. There was a bright light in a certain spot for a moment, and then the image was gone.

    “You must not-“ the voice continued before being cut off again “or he will win.”

    Talgrath felt the familiar darkness swallow him up.


  • The Visions, part 2

    ((Brief note: This relates back to the “Dark Tidings” story.))

    Talgrath awoke slowly, finding himself in a room made of grey stone. He looked around slowly, taking note, trying to get his bearings. The room was simply decorated; there was a four-post bed with simple white sheets in one corner, to its right was a window with wooden shutters and clear glass. To the left of the bed, against a different wall from the window, was a fireplace, the wall left of that had a simple wooden door made of thick oak. The remaining wall had a painting hanging on it by a metal spike; the scene in it was a nature scene, but for some reason, it seemed indistinct and hazy, no matter how Talgrath focused on it. Two blades hung on a wooden plaque over the fireplace, crossed with the points downward; one was bright silver, the other purest black.

    Strangely, the room seemed familiar to him, but he couldn’t recall why. As far as he knew, he’d never been in this place. The room had an odd air as well..but he couldn’t quite place it. He found his attention drawn to the window again…he walked over to it, the glass was blurry, but the skies outside appeared to be clear and blue; it looked liked it overlooked an outer wall, with a green pasture beyond. Talgrath opened the window to get a clearer picture. The world outside the window was dark, blacker then night. Suddenly lightning rent the sky, and Talgrath saw that there was indeed a wall with a pasture beyond. Cavorting upon the ramparts of the wall were a variety of foes, obviously dead…the same ones as before…with the same red eyes. The land grew dark again as the lightning’s flash faded, but glowing red eyes remained, staring at him. Lightning flashed again, and suddenly they were gone.

    “Enjoying the view?” inquired a voice both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

    Talgrath whipped around, blade in hand, his eyes widened in surprise at the sight before him. He saw…himself. A copy of himself stood before him, arrayed in blood-red armor with black trim, with a long, flowing black cloak. Unlike Talgrath who kept his hair in a rough ponytail, this Talgrath-copy’s ponytail was tightly tied and slicked with some material to keep it together. His voice was like Talgrath’s, save that it spoke with no hint of his gruff attitude. The voice was instead cultured and controlled…cold, logical, and merciless.

    “You look surprised,” stated Talgrath-copy, “why shouldn’t you be, I suppose.”

    Talgrath snapped out of surprise, his eyes narrowing. “Who are you?” Talgrath snarled.

    “I’m you.”

    “Very funny, jackass.”

    “I’m everything you should be. I am your potential, I am what you should be; no, that is not correct at all, I am what you are meant to be!” declared Talgrath-copy.

    “Now ya’re just pissing me off, asshat. I’m losing my temper, better come clean and drop the act,” Talgrath threatened.

    “I suppose you cannot grasp what I’m saying. Think of this then, what were your dreams back then when you left? Why did you go to Waterdeep? Have you accomplished your goals? Well?”

    “I’m no longer that person.”

    “Oh but you are. In your heart of hearts, you are that person. The mercenary, the confident warrior who was smart enough to have one real goal in life; you’ve just forgotten it. If you weren’t, you would be happier now.”

    “If you’re me, you’re a pretty dumb version of me,” Talgrath taunted with a smirk.

    “I must be getting pretty close to the truth, if you’re already tossing around insults. You really should drop the act, you know. You have so much potential, to gain money, to gain power, to seize everything you could ever wish for.”

    “The only thing I want is justice and fairness for all,” Talgrath stated calmly.

    “and you could achieve that if you just reached for it! You could rule Peltarch! Become its king! Then you would have the power to bring what you desire to everyone in Narfell, everyone in the world if you so wished,” Talgrath-copy stated.

    Talgrath stood there for a moment, considering his words when light began to break upon the horizon. Talgrath’s alter-ego frowned at the window, then turned for the door, “Consider my words and you’ll understand the truth.”

    The light got brighter and brighter, until it was blinding. Talgrath awoke in his bed, he glanced around slowly. His son slept on the other bed in the room, his pile of maps was on the desk as normal. Everything seemed normal, he felt troubled still though. It took him a moment to recall the dream he had just had, it took him much longer to no longer be troubled.


  • The Visions, part 1

    ((Note: This is related to a current player-run storyline. Some of these will make sense to those not involved, others won’t, and this is probably one that those who aren’t involved in the storyline won’t understand. Please note this is OOC information, please don’t metagame and ruin the plot, thank you.))

    When he felt the pain begin, at first, things seemed very dark. Suddenly, there was a bright flash of light, and it seemed like someone was walking towards him, from the light. He couldn’t tell if they were male or female, or even their height, really. Then a voice, distorted so that it seemed to be speaking as both male and female at once, began to speak; “You must find it, it is important that you do. You must go there…”

    Images flashed through Talgrath’s head at an alarming rate. He saw the coast of the Icelace, as if flying above it. There was a bright flash, and he found himself closer, looking near the lake’s shore, polar bears and northern manticores wandered around. Another flash of light, the old shrine on the edge of the lake; “Dig here.”

    Then he sunk into a dreamless slumber.


  • Dark Tidings

    Talgrath stood in front of a fortress, looming behind him with strong walls. He couldn’t recall how he had gotten there, or why he felt so tired. He looked behind him for a long time, taking in the fortress. He felt like he knew it, and but he swore he had never seen it before. It looked strong, and powerful, and yet worn, like it had seen many battles.

    His eyes eventually wandered up to the sky. It was blood red, with black clouds lazily drifting about overhead. Occasionally, a bright bolt of white lightning slashes across the sky, revealing the details within the cloads; the subtle puffy lines within the larger portion of the cloud.

    Talgrath turns about, looking out over the area before the fortress. The darkness stares back him, cold and devoid of life. Glancing to the ground, he notices a pile of corpses before him, of various enemies; Eastlanders, goblins, kobolds, giants, ogres, and many many others. They form a huge pile before him, and even as he looks at them, they seem to melt into the ground, disappearing into puddles of shadow that slink off into the darkness…the darkness before him. Talgrath again turns to it.

    It seems now that there are eyes within the darkness, glowing red eyes. Lightning flashes, and for a brief moment, in stunning clarity, Talgrath sees them. A horde, standing before him a huge open plain; stretching to unseen mountains many miles away. Like zombies, they had many garish wounds, most caused by a blade or an arrow. Some simply had their heads or backs at odd angles, as if they had had their spines broken by great force. Humans, goblins, kobolds, giants, ogres, leaders and grunts, they all stood side-by-side without rank or order in the horde before him. Somehow, he knew they wanted in to the fortress behind him, and he stood in the only gate.

    He now realized he was in full battle gear, and again he was aware that he felt tired and worn out. It was as if he had been fighting for days without rest; his limbs felt like lead, his blade was heavy and nearly falling out of his hand and it felt like his shield was going to take his arm out of its socket.

    The lightning flashed now again, brighter then before; as if that was a cue, the horde rushed forward. Moving quickly, Talgrath switched to his bow, shooting down several of the horde before they even got close, but they seemed to just meld with the larger horde. He switched to his blade as they got close, but it was no good. Though he struck down many, their hands and weapons inevitably began to find their ways through, and he was too tired to strike quickly enough. Suddenly, looming in front of him was a giant, apparently dead from the huge gash in its belly, it lifted a massive club and swatted at him. He couldn’t dodge quickly enough, and it connected, sending him flying to the right, out of the gateway. He kept falling, flying in agony, it seemed like it would never end…and the darkness surrounded him.

    Talgrath woke up screaming.


  • ((It's been a while since I posted, I hope folks enjoy, though I certainly don't consider this my best work. I sort of had some inspiration for it one night and wrote it rather hurriedly.))

    Can you dance?

    Talgrath stood in the center of Fighter’s Academy at Peltarch, surrounded by a cadre of wooden practice dummies; he was naked from the waist up. He held his longsword in his hand, in a tight grip. “Can you dance?”, such a seemingly simple question delivered by such a seemingly simple woman. Talgrath had been having a drink in the Mermaid when it was asked; the woman who asked him was attractive enough and was probably genuinely interested in dancing with him for fun. Unfortunately for her, it brought up old memories for Talgrath. He had mumbles an answer of “Yes” before walking here, to this place. For Talgrath, dancing would forever be associated with Merydian, with the woman whom things simply didn’t work out with, and he couldn’t figure out why.

    He sighed and cleared his thoughts as best he could, that’s why he came here after all, to clear his head. He began to go through the opening movements of his fighting routine, his muscles stretching and tensing under Talgrath’s heavily scarred skin. The black scar on his chest, a reminder of how he came here, the other scars, a reminder of trials and triumphs.

    His mind was not calmed like usual as he went through his warm-ups. He couldn’t focus, he couldn’t find that point in his mind where there was nothing but what needed to be done; he couldn’t find his center. He began anyway, moving through his attack routine as usual, still trying to find his center. His mind wouldn’t cooperate though, images of his past rolled through his head.

    Though Talgrath wasn’t thinking on it, he was still running through an attack routine. He charged forward at the combat dummy in front of him, leading with a lunge which easily pierced through the combat dummy, he then cut out to the right. His moment carried his blade through the next dummy which had its top part separated from the bottom. Talgrath went into a crouch, then plowed forward towards one of the undamaged dummies, using right blade as if to parry unseen attacks, and punching it in the head area. It cracked and splintered, cutting open his hand in the process. He then rushed across the area strike down yet another dummy with his blade, the slaughter of wooden dummies continued as Talgrath delved through his memories….

    “I love you,” Talgrath recalled that ray of hope, “You’re impossible Talgrath, goodbye!”, moments of desperation and hurt.

    “I love you,” Talgrath relived that first moment of joy, “Me and Eowiel are going to soul bond…”, moments of burning anger and hurt.

    “I love you…” said Allaquondae. Then he relived the horrible moment when the rocks crashed down upon the Elven noblewoman, killing her and putting her forever beyond his reach; moments of despair.

    “You’re not welcome here anymore, damned mercenary,” moments of rejection for bad intentions.

    “That demon boy joined the guard…,” moments of rejection despite his good intentions.

    “Talgrath is a freeeakk! Talgrath is a freeeaaak!” moments of rejection due to his birth.

    In the few moments it took him to devastate the wooden practice dummies, Talgrath relived the moments of his life that hurt the most. He was reminded of everything that had ever caused him emotional pain…he was reminded that in many ways, he was alone.

    When Talgrath once again realized where he was, he found himself kneeling on the floor. He had been crying, though he couldn’t recall it, nor could he recall how he had reached that point. His hand was bleeding as well; yes he realized that now from the sting in it, his left hand was bleeding. Where was his sword, he recalled he had been practicing; he looked around, and saw it planted in a dummy. It had pierced it clean through where the heart would have been. It took him several moments of thought to recall what he had done. The attacks he had used seemed hazy, and indistinct, almost like he hadn’t been doing him. The emotional experience he had just had however, seemed crystal clear, an outpouring of emotions that was perhaps the greatest he had felt in his life. It took him a while to remember that his hand was bleeding. When he did, he glanced down at it, and realized that he was still dripping blood a bit.

    He walked over to a nearby fountain of water, and paused a moment at his reflection. It wasn’t the same one that had stared back at him a decade ago. He had weathered the storm of age pretty well so far, actually. His hair was all still deep black, his face had a few more small scars on it, and he had a few more thin lines at his eyes. His eyes though, at that moment they showed far more of what Talgrath felt then what the rest of his face showed. Talgrath felt old, not the old of creaks and groans, but the old within one’s soul. He had seen a lot, and felt a lot…perhaps too much.

    He shrugged and began to clean up the mess he had made. He wondered if anyone had seen his outburst, but doubted it, it must be well into the night by now. Yeah, Talgrath could dance, the problem was that others couldn’t understand his dance well enough to keep pace. And unlike other dances, his left a rather large mess and a lot of corpses behind…


  • Consideration

    I have met my father, and I hate him with a passion. He is the dark mirror of everything I have grown to loathe. He is alone, he is without morals, he is undead, and he’s evil. I am struck with an odd contradiction though. He killed my mother, but he spared me. He said it was because I looked like him, but is it possible that part of him wanted to change or did something else step in and alter my fate? Is it possible that Tyr has taken an interest in me from the start, and that he intervened that day? I can’t answer these questions, no matter how much I ask myself about them.

    The method by which I met my father had me meet him makes me think as well. He claims he wanted to test me to see if I was strong enough to join him, but I doubt he could honestly believe I would join him; knowing what he did. I think he wanted to be defeated, if he truly is dead for good. I think my father couldn’t end his own life, his own horrible existence as a lich, so he brought me to him to have me do it.

    Whatever the case, what Andu said is true. My friends and the family I have made for myself are more family then my father ever could be, and ever will be. From now on, I will be careful to make sure I stay away from the dangerous habits that turned my father to lichdom. I will have to keep my anger in check, and be wary of power.

    Then there is the goblin who challenges my way of thinking, Rufus. True, he betrayed me by my father’s orders initially, but then he saved us all and sacrificed himself. The goblin who worshipped Tyr has challenged my thinking. I can no longer bring myself to call goblins and their ilk vermin. Rufus proved they are capable of higher thought, of a conscious, of noble deeds. Will I check my swing if a goblin is attacking me or someone else? No, but I will consider more carefully the goblin who runs, and I will consider more carefully the goblin who stops and talks.

    So now I must consider each life a bit more carefully. Ever move I make I must think about for a longer period of time. I must consider whether those I think are evil truly are that evil, and I must find where the line is drawn. I must find for myself again where the lines of good, evil, and in-between are drawn. These considerations are my burden as a warrior of Tyr. As for Rufus, I pray you have a place in Tyr’s realm and are happy, you will be remembered, my friend.

    -Talgrath


  • Promises

    I saw my best friend sail off today, away from Peltarch, out of my life. I saw the man I called my brother leave for a place that I know, logically, I can never get to. I saw one of the most solid people I have ever met in my life, the one person who has known me longer then anyone; disappear into that setting sun. Now all I have left of him are some parting gifts, and these promises.

    The first, the promise to keep doing what I’m doing; the promise to make this place better than it is. I can keep that promise, I WILL keep that promise. Zyphlin knew that would be the easy promise to keep, I’m sure.

    The second promise, the promise to protect the woman who drove him away, that will be harder. I promised to keep the woman who crushed his heart and betrayed him safe. I promised I’d protect Gildor. This is the promise I will have the most trouble keeping.

    The final promise I made to him; that promise will be difficult to sort out, but when things become clear, I know what I need to do.

    I have not shed tears for the dead or the otherwise departed since Allaquondae’s death so many years ago. As Zyphlin left, I shed tears, tears of sadness and frustration; I shed tears because I couldn’t change things and I knew why they were occurring.

    Of all the people that have ever wandered into my life, I cannot recall any single person who has influence me more. Of all the people who I will recall fondly in my old age, I know that Zyphlin will be foremost of those I shall speak of. Wherever Zyphlin is now, I hope he’s safe, and I hope he’ll come back. In the meantime, I have work to do…

    -Talgrath


  • ((This is a repost from an old story I made to explain the OOC departure of the player of Talgrath's IC lover. I imagine some of you may have read this already, for those of you haven't, enjoy. This is some fairly old information, by the way.))
    As Talgrath stood once more at the north gates of Norwick, his mind flashed back to what had happened…

    He and Allaquondae had decided to take a trip to Silverymoon, since Allaquondae had dearly wanted to see it. They made it to Silverymoon just fine, and once more, Talgrath beheld the city. But now, with his love, Allaquondae, at his side he understood the beauty of the city, for it was like her in many aspects. Indeed, Silverymoon was very much like an elven city, and Allaquondae was glad.

    On their journey back, they had stopped in a small village called Riverwood for the night. They overheard a conversation about a wizard who was threatening the town while sitting in the inn. So, they decided to help out the people of the village. They found the wizard's abode easily enough, an old tower that had recently been repaired, by who they knew not.

    They entered through the front door without trouble, the upper parts of the tower were all heavily trapped, but they found a trapdoor into an underground area. They found many goblins there, working for the wizard, aparently. They slew them with ease. They came at last upon the wizard, they caught him off guard, he was walking down the hall towards them. Upon spotting them, he immediately tossed a bolt of lightning at Talgrath, who was closer. Talgrath was thrown backwards several feet, singed and burned, but alive. Allaquondae fired an arrow, and it pierced the wizard through his throat, he was dead with a single shot. But he had one last trick to play, a pendant around his neck began to glow.

    Talgrath got to his feet in time to see this, and in time to see Allaquondae standing there, looking at the wizard blankly. The image is burned deeply into his mind to this day. He has not seen Allaquondae since. Talgrath started to run towards her, but then he was thrown backwards yet again.

    The pendant burst into an explosion, and Allaquondae was too close. The explosion collapsed the ceiling and Talgrath's blurry vision saw the shape of Allaquondae obscured by the falling blur of debris. Talgrath passed out soon after.

    How long he lay there, he knew not, at the time. When he returned to town, he was told it had been four days since Allaquondae and he had left. He told the townspeople they were safe now. Riverwood was safe. The people rejoiced, but then some asked where the elven woman was who had gone with him. He didn't say anything, he just walked away, slowly, plodding towards the east and the north. Heading for Norwick.

    Thus, there he was. He stood at the north gate, he didn't even understand why he was there. Perhaps the black scar had compelled him. Perhaps he desired to walk once again amongst the places where most of his memories of Allaquondae were. Perhaps, he had simply came there for lack of anyplace better to go. He didn't care, his soul was lost, perhaps forever now. He didn't care anymore. Some part of him held onto survival, something kept a small flame flickering in his body. Will it be extinguished? Or will his soul be found again?


  • The Path of Repentance

    I’ve done a lot of things in my life I’m not proud of, but few of those have been terrible crimes. They’ve mostly been minor, bar fights, causing trouble, that type of thing. This…this is something more significant. This crime, this I must repent for, this is why Tyr will never grant me his blessings. This is why I must repent, and keep fighting in His name.

    When I was sixteen years old, I had been a mercenary for two years. I was already a seasoned fighter, cold and calm. I was damn good at being a mercenary too. I was with the best mercenary group on all the Sword Coast, or so we claimed; we were the Steel Hand.

    We got an offer to do a job from a man; I won’t go into names, for 25,000 gold. With five members, that meant each of us were going to be paid 5,000 gold. Usually we didn’t receive an offer quite so significant, that meant it was either very dangerous or we were going to be guarding something very valuable.

    Turns out, this was going to be really dangerous, but not physically. We were being hired to rob a caravan carrying rarities, magic items and the like. If anybody escaped from the robbery and identified us, we’d never be able to enter Waterdeep again. That was the only thing that gave us pause, not any sort of morals, not any concern over right and wrong. We didn’t have any other job offers worthwhile being offered at the time, so we took it.

    So, a tenday or so later, I found myself dressed like a bandit. I was wearing an old suit of leather armor, and an old, slightly dented, pot helmet. I hate wearing leather armor; it usually smells horrible and seems far too light to provide any sort of real protection. I was crouched in the underbrush beside the road, about a day’s travel outside of Waterdeep, waiting for the caravan. Scouts had said the caravan was just about half a mile from our position, it wouldn’t be long now.

    They slowly came into view, myself, Verkauth, Farsnik, and the rest of the Steel Hand waited patiently, in our usual attack positions. The caravan slowly rolled into view. About a two dozen guards around three wagons; a significant number of guards for such a small caravan. It was obvious now why we were hired; we were to be the shock troops, to slay the majority of the group.

    The signal was shouted, and we attacked. I let loose with my crossbow upon the nearest wagon driver, as planned. I saw the bolt pierce his neck as I drew my longsword and gathered up my shield. I charged in against the nearest swordsman, striking him down in a single blow, such was his surprise. I found myself fighting two guards; I blocked the blows of one with my shield while I worked the other’s blade up high. Once he was in position, I struck, bringing the blade across his gut. The other guard didn’t expect me to keep going, as I used my momentum and my body weight to slash him open as well. Another guard charged me only to be impaled upon my longsword. I looked around, finding the fight was already done.

    At the time, I hardly registered what I’d done. I didn’t really care that those people had their own lives, perhaps their own families. All I cared about at that point was that I had made a lot of coins. I didn’t even begin to think about it, until I began to worship Tyr. When I did, I began to reexamine my past. When I did, this, of all my other actions, stuck out; the only time I’ve killed in cold blood. I killed five people just for coin, and I’ve done things almost as foul too. That’s why I have to keep fighting for Tyr; I must do enough good to make up for the good five men could have done. My crimes are numerous, my repentance must be a great sacrifice; I feel it is the only way I can make up for my mistakes.

    -Talgrath


  • To Tread the Path of Danger

    Talgrath watched as the newest arrivals from the Thayans burst from the flames of a teleportation spell. He wasted no time, with Krig beside him; he turned about and delivered a kick to the Thayan priest, sending him to his knees. Krig brought his axe to bear, delivering a solid blow to the man, still he stood up. Talgrath was done with playing around, Talgrath swung his blade through the back of the man’s knees, severing the tendons that kept him standing, then twirled about with the momentum, bringing his blade to bear on the man’s neck and cleaning severing it.

    The other Thayan priest and the Thayan warrior had now recovered from the after daze of teleportation, and the fighting continued; Talgrath and Krig eventually bringing them down. More were coming up from behind, Talgrath and Krig got running again, towards Norwick.

    The goblin archer knew something was going on; there were sounds of fighting in the forest. A faint sound began; he and his partner began to look around, the sound slowly becoming clearer in its direction. Suddenly two figures burst out of the fog of the early morning, their armor making them sound like an army to the small creature as they came. One stood at least twice the height of the poor creature, his armored arm as thick as its waist; the other was shorter but broader in chest and both were covered in blood. The creature raised its bow; its arms shaking violently, before it could line up its shot, the taller figure ran by him and struck.

    Talgrath’s blade neatly removed the goblin’s head as he passed. The goblins partner took several moments before he could get a shot off, and his shots went wide or clattered harmlessly off Talgrath’s shield or armor as he passed anyway.

    The sounds of battle broke out behind the fleeing group of adventurers as the Thayans met resistance from the confused goblins. Talgrath’s breath came hard, in heavy panting. He was bleeding from several wounds, but he had to push past them, had to ignore them, had to get to Norwick, and hopefully, to safety.

    They were almost there, the group of fleeing adventurers. Suddenly, another group of Thayans burst into being before them. Talgrath didn’t hesitate, charging into the fray. He brought his blade about in a vicious arc before him, cutting open the belly of the Thayan warrior in front of him, but he had neglected his defense. The greatsword of one of his fellow bit deep into Talgrath’s side. Without hesitation, Talgrath brought his blade about in a slice to the neck of the Thayan, decapitating the man. He stumbled onward, to Norwick.

    The gates opened before him, concerned guards and adventurers looking on. Talgrath walked in as proudly as he could, which wasn’t very proud at this moment, he was clutching his side with his shield hand and his sword drooped low to the ground. His entire body was coated with blood, some of which was his own.

    The fighting continued behind him, as he stumbled over and sat down, exhausted. He pulled out a healing potion, and for a moment, he looked at it in consideration. Perhaps it was simply his expended mind playing tricks upon him, but he could swear he see the image from that last glance he took before leaving in the bottle’s murky depths. The image passed, and he drank the bottle, his wounds closed, and his body felt refreshed, to some extent. The fighting was already over though.

    Looking around, he followed the rest of the group north, to meet at Adam’s house. He had walked the path of danger, and this time, he had done so and lived. His thoughts troubled him now though. How much longer could he walk this path? And could his conscience ever let him give it up?

  • M

    (( 👏 Very nice m'dear))


  • Doubt

    ((Yet another story about my character’s inner thoughts; I decided to do this one from a first person perspective. As always, I love feedback, good and bad, and I hope you enjoy))

    I awoke slowly. The light in the room was dim, as it always was in the morning, I only keep one candle burning at night, before going to sleep, and it had burned down to a nub. The light was still bright enough for me to see though. Merydian was asleep in my arms, I had been about to get up, but this gave me pause. I looked down upon her sleeping form, she was perfect, is perfect. Her skin is nearly flawless, and as she slept, the peaceful expression upon her face only made her more beautiful. By comparison, I couldn’t help but think that I am flawed, ugly, by comparison. My body, covered in scars from countless fights and battles and the large black scar that covers my chest from that odd encounter so many years ago tells the tale of my life far more eloquently then I ever could.

    I knew I should get up, I knew I needed to get moving to meet the others. For a moment, I doubted I should. “They will be fine without me, they can handle things. They’d understand if I wished to just lay here in peace,” but the thoughts were hollow, pitiful excuses, even to myself.

    I gently slipped out of my embrace with Merydian, then out of bed. She rolled over once, onto her back, and then she pulled the covers up around her a bit more tightly, still asleep. I smiled; she still had that peaceful look upon her face. I tried to block out the thought of her expression when she learned of where I was going. That was almost strong enough to stop me, to draw me back to the bed and back into that peaceful embrace.

    Again, I knew what I had to do, whether I wanted to or not; I dressed myself. I walked over to the other bed in the room, the small one in which Lucian slept. His small face was a smile of contentment, for a moment, I idly wondered what he was dreaming of. I tried to remember what my dreams were like at that age; fruitlessly, of course.

    Doubt began to creep in again. “Was I really doing this for the betterment of Narfell, or was I doing this for glory? Could the naysayers be right? Do I really just want to be famous?”

    It took me a good long time to throw off these doubts, to confirm for myself that yes, I was doing this to try and protect others. Yes, I was doing this to better Narfell. I couldn’t stop now. So, I wrote the most difficult letter of my life.

    “I have gone to the Lost City, to try and stop the Thayans from acquiring an artifact. I don’t want you to worry, but I know you will, but I swear that I will return to you. I love you.

    Talgrath”

    I folded the note, and wrote “Merydian” on the top of it. Then, I picked up my pack, and quietly slung it over my shoulder, and slipped out of the room. Into the soft darkness of the Mermaid’s upper floors, and off towards Jiyyd; to the most dangerous journey of my life thus far.