[Runequest4] Tarkhan's story: Part II

[Lev Lafayette]

Tarkhan's Story Part II

Being the recordings of Tarkhan of the White Rope Clan
of the Bison Riders. Hail Waha!

(Part I of the story is at:
http://www.mimesisrpg.com/pipermail/runequest4_mimesisrpg.com/2005-September/000007.html)

Fleeing the Axe Brothers with Carlan's slow moving
caravan was no simple feat in itself. Moving eastwards
was a simple enough choice, but we had significant
debate over whether to head towards Dwarf Knoll and
adopt the most direct route to Pavis, or south-east
towards the Winter Ruins on the edge of the Dead
Place. After significant debate we decided to head
towards the Winter Ruins. 

Under all other circumstances this would not be a
choice I would take. The Dead Place, as the name
indicates is not a good home for living creatures.
When Storm Bull fought The Devil, Eiretha lent the
Power of the region and to this day it remains a
blasted place; not even an insect lives there. It has
a reputation reputation for holding wondrous magical
items from the God Time but nearly all whom enter
never return. Worse still is the perpetual rumours of
a moving area where the God Time still exists, where
the compromise of Time has no effect. I am not sure I
would like to be caught in such a place, at least not
whilst there is Power in my body.

Still, at least the place is relatively free of Lunars
and they were our chief concern. The Lunars
effectively control all the lands directly from Moon
Broth to Pavis and the Dwarf Knoll is directly in that
route. I would be very surprised if the Lunars had not
already, a combination of mounted couriers and magic,
sent word to Dwarf Knoll that we should be captured.

As expected during the second day we caught sight of a
dust cloud following us. Reconnaissance scouting
revealed, also as expected, that it was indeed a large
group of Lunars, probably fifty or more, closing in on
us. Their horses did not travel brilliantly through
these lands, at least not after years of drought, but
nor did our caravan. I was very concerned that they
would be upon on by the third day, and there was
simply no way that we could fight them all. I even
considered the possibility of breaking up the group in
the hope that at least some of us would survive.
Anything than being subject to Lunar "justice".

It was morning of the third day however that a mighty
sandstorm arose such like I had never seen, rolling in
from the Shadow's Dance. It was like Orlanth himself
had been summoned! I questioned Fawn on this
possibility, for my knowledge of the Storm God is not
great, and she confirmed that wherever there are
mountains Orlanth will be found.

We desparately sought a hollow in the desert sands and
pegged numerous tarps to act as shields against the
winds. We tied the animals and forced them to their
knees, despite the desire of many to flee. I
attempted, quite foolishly, to Detect Spirits in the
region thinking that a storm of this size must be
manipulated by some other source. Indeed, a did detect
other spirits in the region, but fell red-faced when I
discerned the obvious: the drunken shaman, Elrog [have
I got this name right this time?], had a number of
allies.

For three days and nights the sandstorm beat
mercilessly against our campsite. Even behind the
protection of our tarps, the desert dust infected our
clothes, our food, our drink. Some of the animals
escaped in a panic and were doubtless captured by the
winds. It seemed that the storm would never end, and I
become not just concerned about our meagre rations
holding out, but the possibility of madness spirits,
whom I believe seem to be attracted to those who stay
in the same place without activity.

Fortunately, by the fourth day, the storm moved on.
The sand had virtually covered the tarpaulins which
sagged heavily. Many of the prize trading animals were
looking a lot worse for wear, although the one of two
plumed ostriches had expired. An expensive meal to be
had that night! Most importantly however, the Lunars
were nowhere to be seen. Rough-shod and
weather-beaten, the caravan limped into The Winter
Ruins, on the outskirts of The Dead Place.


--- Lev Lafayette <lev_lafayette at yahoo.com.au> wrote:

> 
> I am Tarkhan, Bison-Rider of the White Rope clan,
> attuned to the Beast Rune. This is my story
> following
> the great scattering.
> 
> I don't like the Gods or men and the Gods and men
> don't seem to like me much either.
> 
> My only friend is my bison, Strongheart. Most of the
> time I follow the ways of Waha, who teaches the
> Peaceful Cut. My clan was very angry when I learnt
> the
> bow from a childhood friend from the neighbouring
> Blue
> Sables. We're supposed to raid and fight the Blue
> Sables, not make friends with them!
> 
> I often wonder what happened to Kirkor. I assume the
> Blue Sables, like our White Rope clan, were
> scattered
> to the winds when the Lunars shattered our lands. 
> 
> Lunars! How I hate that very word! They are almost
> as
> despicable as Chaos itself!
> 
> But I digress.
> 
> It was Sacred Time, 1620 when I made my way to
> Moonbroth. It was now ten years since the Lunars had
> invaded and both we nomad tribes and the city folk
> of
> Pavis had fallen under their cruel yoke. I had not
> seen members of my own clan for years and the
> sadness
> within me was deep. I hoped within Moonbroth I may
> find some employ or at the very least some cheap
> drink
> to drown this memory.
> 
> On the way to Moonbroth I encountered a young
> Heortling woman. In more normal circumstances I
> would
> consider enslaving her, but I did not have the
> capacity to maintain such property. It turns out
> that
> she was named Faun, a refugee from the lands of
> Satar,
> where the Lunars had captured Boldhome, supposedly
> an
> impregnable city in the moutains.
> 
> Faun was an initiate of Issaries, the God of
> Communication, and true to that nature her tongue
> and
> wit were sharp. I instantly saw the possibility of
> alliance. Most consider me to have the graces,
> manners
> and diplomacy of a barbarian, which of course is
> true.
> I *am* a barbarian, and a more blunt than usual one
> at
> that. 
> 
> Despite this these are the lands of Prax and I know
> them well. I am big, strong and handy with the spear
> whereas Faun was almost half my size and could
> barely
> lift the light crossbow she bore. She wouldn't last
> a
> week out here by herself. Indeed, the Gods must have
> watched her to get this far.
> 
> Upon reaching Moonbroth Faun encountered more
> Heortlings, also refugees; a woman named Garrel, who
> seemed to have some skill in the arts of healing and
> her son Ferrel who bore the temperance of a scared
> rabbit. They had attached themselves to a merchant
> caravan led by one Carlan Skinhorn who had a small
> number of herd animals and trade goods. Safety in
> numbers I presume, as there was little in Carlan's
> personality that I saw as particularly enticing.
> Also
> present were two men, Ersolian mercenaries, and
> Carlan's two bodyguards. Hanging around the place
> was
> a crazy old drunk in a loin-cloth who introduced
> himself as Ebor. I had a small amount of fermented
> bison milk which he gulped happily.
> 
> Moonbroth was a depressing place. Once a trading
> oasis
> for the nomad tribes, it was now thoroughly
> controlled
> by the Lunars who kept the best goods and took the
> bulk of the water supply. This was particularly poor
> form given how dry the past two seasons had been,
> but
> the Lunars cared little for the original people of a
> land or their custom. We stocked ourselves on
> provisions and made conversion with the others, and
> were duly insulted by some Axe Brothers; Lunar
> mercenaries of ill-repute. I believe I got our own
> back however by flinging a handful of Clacks towards
> them with the retort: "That's for your mother's
> services. She was a 'mercenary' as well."
> 
> On our return to Carlan's caravan we were informed
> that the merchant had gone to negotiate trade with
> some Lunars at the drinking tent and would return at
> sunset. Well, sunset passed and the hours wore on
> and
> still there was no sign of Carlan. Faun and I
> decided
> to travel to the tent to find out what was going on.
> 
> On the approach we found the tent strangely quiet.
> Most unusual for by this hour normally the place
> would
> be full of swill, both of the alcoholic and the
> human
> variety. Upon entrance the reason was clear enough.
> Two Axe Brothers stood over a kneeling, pleading
> Carlan who was begging for his life. The floor of
> the
> tavern was full of the dead and the moans of the
> dying. It was not a pretty sight.
> 
> Faun excelled herself at this moment and earned by
> respect for her bravery. Despite the obvious danger,
> she made eyes with the Axe Brothers and suggested
> that
> now was a good time for some more drinking. One was
> instantly convinced by her petite figure, but the
> other wanted more fighting. With one distracted, I
> took the opportunity to satisfy the whims of the
> second and plunged a spear deep into his chest.
> Carlan
> took the opportunity to crawl under a table
> somewhere,
> whereas Faun sought a vantage point to load her
> crossbow.
> 
> Taking out one drunk Axe Brother with an element of
> surprise was easy enough, and I thought I had a
> reasonable chance against the second, especially
> given
> his state of inebriation. However a third appeared
> from the back of the tent and unfortunately he was a
> monster. I stand head and shoulders above most
> people,
> however he stood that above me. Worse still, he
> carried a great axe with a degree of confidence that
> indicated that he hadn't been drinking as much. Rare
> as it was, it seemed that luck was with me that day
> as
> I parried the Brother in front of me and then jabbed
> backwards to strike the giant Brother in the
> shoulder.
> He winced with far greater pain than I expected for
> the blow, and then brought his Great Axe down,
> catching me on the left leg. A more direct hit would
> probably would have taken my leg off.
> 
> Meanwhile Faun, Waha bless her, fired her crossbow
> into the back of the smaller Brother who fell to the
> ground in a heap. The big Brother then found him in
> the difficult situation where he was both challenged
> in mellee and by ranged weapons. It took several
> blows
> and quarrels, but it was an untenanable situation
> for
> him. Gradually we wore him down, without taking any
> further wounds ourselves.
> 
> Carlan thanked us, although less than one would
> expect
> for having saved his misearable skin. It turns out
> that the Axe Brothers were making unreasonable
> demands
> for 'protection' and he took issue with that. In the
> resulting drunken argument, they started fighting
> with
> those in the drinking hall, with the obviously and
> inevitable results. I could not help but think that
> as
> a seasoned merchant Carlan would be aware of this
> probability.
> 
> More interesting however was the discovery of Ebor
> behind the bar, downing was what was the best of the
> drinks in the place. He had witnessed the entire
> battle and I suspected even at this stage he had
> used
> some spirit magic to improve our lot in battle.
> 
> Time however demanded that we flee quickly. I argued
> briefly with Faun over the idea of relieving one of
> the Axe Brothers of his chainmail armour, as it
> would
> be worth a small fortune, not to mention its
> protective value. Faun was of the opinion that it
> would take too long and hue and cry would have
> already
> been raised. The last thing we wanted was to be the
> victims of Lunar 'justice'. I relented, grabbing
> three
> swords and two axes from the fallen and a coin pouch
> as we fled the tents.
> 
>  
> Notes
> -----
> 
> See The Travels of Biturian Varosh for an overview
> of
> Prax
> http://www.glorantha.com/library/biturian.html
> 
> List of Nomad Clans:
>
http://manzato.club.fr/pagepersocm/runequest/rq8.html
> 
> 
> 		
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