[Runequest4] Tarkhan's story: Part I

[Lev Lafayette]

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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