Down

Miezsko felt an uneasy relief settle on him as the two headed giant crumpled to the ground. That had to be it, who else could be leading all of these trolls. But it all seemed too easy. He had just expected more from the trolls, some near-death scrape or some abnormally powerful troll overlord to contend with. Maybe its nothing though. He should just learn to take the easy victories where he could, not everything had to be such a struggle after all. They were getting stronger after all. Horrace seemed able to cut through whatever he damn well pleased these days without much effort, and Miezsko was growing more confident every day in his own battle prowess. In fact, more so than he'd ever imagined. He found himself even a little excited when a fight was at hand. His swords were beginning to feel more like a natural extension of his body, responding to every subtle movement he willed them to perform. His body felt light and fast once he entered battle, perhaps out of necessity though, for it did not respond pleasantly to unfriendly physical contact. Miezsko sheathed his blades and breathed out with relief as the tension of battle unwound itself from him.

Trippity tripper trap pranks.

The weather was starting to get cold and frosty, when the air grew crispy, and he could see his words in steam. The leaves turned from the color life to the color of money. They felt like they shattered when he flew through them. He loved to zip up and down between the trees this time of year. He climbed along a branch with his forelegs, holding a white sugar candy to his suckling mouth with the hind.

With a puff and a zip he put a squirrels acorn near a badger's den. A funny prank.

He put a baby bird in the nest of another mother bird. He tittered.

He lured a skunk into a sleeping bears cave, then bit it and disappeared. He loved to touch lives with loving acts of chaos. He fluttered about seeking out a new game.
A smell caught his attention as it lingered in the air. A smell he knew. It was the one eyed dwarf man. His favorite creature to play games with. He scampered up a tree, and followed the hanging branches to the origin of the smell. He looked into a dark clearing to see the squaty stinky one eyed dwarf man walking around slowly with a torch, looking to the ground. He was looking for something he had lost. This prank was already writing itself. He watched him silently, waiting for the moment to strike.

He huffed and shuffled about, stopping to bend over and poke at a patch of grass, only to mutter a curse.
“Pig balls. It isn't here.”
“Fuck my mother, where is it.”

“Pissing shit.”

But then the planets aligned, and a moment unlike any other presented itself.

The shitty old dwarf stomped in frustration. Dug the torch into the earth, free standing. Then bent over to search the ground carefully with his hands. His dumpy bottom stuck out dangerously close to the torches flame. This was too good. He had never been so happy.
With a cry of near ecstasy Perlavash zipped forward on swift dragon wings to deliver a knock on the head just gentle enough to topped the dwarf, ass first, onto a lit torch.

But right before his cat-thick little whip tail slapped that dwarf in the good eye, the leaves around exploded upward. Dozens of tiny net cords whipped into the air and entangled the mid-flight dragonette. He hit the dirt like a confused sock-hose full of rats.

He looked upward to see the dwarf standing over him, with a rope in his hand. A trip for this trap...He had been waiting for him. Perlavash got very scared and began crying. He wept big shiny dragon tears and wailed like a baby.

The one eyed dwarf man stood over him with a the widest, near weepy grin. A tear of joy glistened in the corner of his yellow eye. Shacken with intense happiness, the dwarf grasped for words but came up with none. He just started with a little jig, and a oddly agile leap of joy, and drew the big sharp axe off his back. He wiped away his tear of joy, smiling like an idiot, axe hefted overhead, and brought it down in a clean precise chop. Perlavash was struck and everything went dark.

When he came about, and tried to open his eyes and breath, he was assaulted with a unworldy smell. He retched. It seemed to fill his nostrils and his eyes. It was all around him. He thrashed and broke out of the net, and soft brown matter filled the air. He was covered in it. Sticky cold brown shit. He looked to see a rope had fallen, and a bag of it had been dumped from above in the trees. A clean axe mark was in the ground where the rope had been fastened. It had all been a careful trap. He had filled an entire potato bag with what appeared to be badger droppings. The worst kind in the forest. Forever sticky. Rotten with meat and garbage. But some of it seemed to be from another larger creature of some kind....

From far off in the forest he could hear the continuous bellowing cackle laughter of the stinky one eyed dwarf man.  

Thorian Toredur: My Queen, My Queen

Dearest and most exalted Queen Telandia of Kyonin,

I, Thorain Toredur, your servant and kinfolk write under the blessing and bounty of the newfound Kingdom of Niscera. Little more than a year ago I was a student at Kyonin's illustrious College of Magic without parallel in all the kingdoms of Golarion.  I left dismayed with the stringent magical and social customs of our people, customs which you have endeavored to change. Therefore, I write to you, queen of my people with an opportunity to perpetuate that change.

With a charter given to us by the Sword Lords of Brevoy (whether it was theirs to give or not) we pacified the land of murderous bandits and nefarious mites, we have slain lizard warlords and twisted bear spirits. Now the land lays in our hands, with support from the Sword Lords we have begun to shape the green belt to our visions, and yet it feels empty at it's heart.

This land was once a kingdom of the Elves. Our people walked these plains and forests, crossed it's rivers and streams along side the ancient fey creatures which have called them home for centuries. Niscera begs the return of our kindred. We are a new nation, and would benefit from the wisdom, skill and grace of the elves. In addition, we would benefit from an alliance with Kyonin. These lands are in strife, evil it seems has taken hold to her roots, yet we seek to destroy it. This task is more difficult than it would seem, even with a servant of Iomedae as our figurehead and leader. We need the presence of elves in this fight, long servants of good, and nature.

The people of Niscera are young and nieve, and being so; easily swayed. This is an opportunity for humans to be directed toward the inclinations of the elves, to preserve nature, and not to be at odds with it; we live in the kingdom of Erastil, and I believe would take well to his teachings teachings which our people know well. Furthermore, there is a vast wood known as the Narlmarches where an elvish presence would be welcome. The wood is vast and densely inhabited with Fey and rich in wildlife, in addition to an ancient temple to Erastil which crowns the center of the richly verdant forest.

Lastly, I would address a personal issue. When I left the college at Kyonin it was in dismay, fleeing as a fledgling flees a hungry hawk. I ran blindly through these lands in search of myself. I have found a part of who I am, and discovered that while at odds with our people in some ways (you may inquire with the Arch Mage) I cannot be without my own kind, I am elven, wether others believe so or not. In this vein, I am beginning an academy of magic and would open an invitation to those of Kyonin who wish to study the arts of magic, an art which I have approached from a very different dogma than that of our Kyonin university, they are welcome and need but seek the great sycamore of the Kamelands, a tree which dominates her skyline.

May Calistra avenge our fallen and Desna guide our way.

Your servant,

--Thorain Toredur

Hargulka's dream

In his dream, their skulls broke apart like so many red messy puffballs.  Human barons and Swordlords, Dwarven mercenaries, Elven archers, Halfing bakers, wandering Gnomes...all were smashed to chunky gibs under his reverberating great club.  And they kept coming to take away his power like the fools that they were.  But Hargulka, King of the South, destroyed all who challenged his reign. 

This was another good dream.

The warty troll grumbled in satisfaction, cheesy toes wiggling pleasurably.  It was not often that he had these good dreams.  His bad dreams had come more frequently as of late.  They echoed out of a nightmare world, deep with the forest, where a strange lilting voice pushed him in desperation to control the Narlmarches and compete the colonizers in the Kamelands.   He didnt like that otherworldy compulsion turning him into a lump on a throne, sending out his trolls to harass logging camps and take tribute from lizardfolk.  He prefered these dreams where he could kill and pillage with his own two clawed hands.  And smash some heads, of course.  That abnormality, Nagrundi, always wanted payment in intact skulls for whatever dark magics it worked.  And Hargulka begrudgingly obliged.  Having a two-headed henchman helped keep the rest of the lot in line.  But it left Hargulka with very few skulls to smash.

Just then, that two-headed stereo voice gurgled through the cave and down into Hargulka's throne room.  His sticky yellow eyes popped open in annoyance, pleasant dream interrupted.   Nagrundi roared once again in anger.  Hargulka idly wondered if one of the troll brutes had got on their bad side again.  He hoped not.  Hargulka needed all the trolls he could gather if he wanted to take over more than a cold rocky Dwarven hole in the the wall. 

Snorting loudly, Hargulka sat up in his chair and grabbed his club.  Maybe he would go talk to Nagrundi about interrupting his sleep.  Or he could just send his number two, Kargadd and go back to snoozing.  After all, as King, Hargulka needed to learn some delegation.  The strange word soured in his drooling tusked mouth.  To the Hells with this boring throne, time for some smashing, thought Hargulka.

Revitalized.

It had been months since Horrace felt so alive.

His pain was receding. His spirit was soaring. And it was all thanks to the glorious battle waged on the lizardfolk village. His friends were bloodied and bruised, as was he, yet this was his highest moment. He felt alive. He felt immortal. Hells, he even felt normal. The souls of the fallen beasts coursed though his own. They made him feel complete. Was this an addiction? Or was it just the true path his Goddess has put before him? Either way, it was all he knew at this time, and was all he desired.

While his wounds began to close as he moved from corpse to corpse, cutting the lifeline between head and shoulders, he heard the sound of combat break out from within a nearby hut. A crooked smile spread across his face as he hefted his bloodied axe and shuffled off quickly towards the action. A bystander might confess to have seen a skip and a dance in his movement.


Even the Gods weren't sure what to do with Horrace.

Recentings

That filthy rat-asshole bard. He had caused way more trouble than I thought possible, but luckily nothing too permanent. It was quite the war of words, though I have to admit I was having a little more fun than I maybe should have. I am still concerned with the bard's origin. Though he seemed to have no allegiance towards the country he hailed from, I still wonder if he was acting on behalf of another party, displeased with our course. Time will tell I suppose.
Things are going very well otherwise, and I am quite pleased by the growth our city is beginning to show. I think within the next near we may even be able to establish a bustling waterfront, and really launch our economy. We have dispersed a tribe of lizard-folk living nearby, which I think will make things easier for us in the long run, but there is another matter pressing my mind now. That of the strange glowing fey we encountered, and the purpose of the strange keep we passed by...

To be out again

It was good to be out in wilds again. The teidius Formalities of "ruling" had started to where on his nerves. If you could call it ruling virtually all his decisions were made for him. What he truly enjoyed was interacting with the people, bringing his faith to them and helping where he could. He was a frustrated that his friends could not see the necessity of having a Temple in town. A place of worship would bring fulfillment and peace to the people of Verdenhal, but alas he was but one of the true ruling party.

It unnerved him that his friends put it so plainly that they would replace him if he should not enforce their edicts. They planned the building of the city, they planned the budget and he was just there to nod his approval. Why do they feel that he is no inept at such things? Why elect him just to be a figure head? With all the work that Kysziem has been doing why not just give him the title. No, he had plead his case an won. They may not listen now but I will continue. He did this for the people and he will continue to do so. They will see in time that his thoughts hold credit, that his plans for the city will bring joy. His rule will be remembered.

The acts of the last few days have put all that in the back of his mind. To be out slaying vile beasts and bringing safety to the land again has relit his fire. To have undone the curse of  Lycanthropy, kill a Worg pack and help a band of Gnome explorer's. Then there was the turtle, poor creature. It was a shame it ended in it's death. The next day will surely bring more worthy foes.