Heroes Of The Mist

Heroes of the Mist By: Richard Peiper

Heroes of the Mist

Chapter 1: Nothing bad can come of one more drink

The life of a professional soldier is a thankless one. It is even more thankless when you have gotten a reputation as a drunk. The only thing that made life bearable for Grum Torar was spending the days with his younger brother Grig. The two of them have been inseparable since birth and had been cohorts in crime since their teenage years when they discovered the joys of beer. The brothers Torar had just turned 19 when they began making their own beer, and by the age of 22 they were running an underground bar for their friends. The Dwarven Master Brewers are very protective of their stranglehold on the beer market. Dwarven Ale is considered a delicacy in the southern kingdoms and any infringement on their market are met with the swiftest of retributions. The Torar brothers are now feeling the swiftness of said retribution as they were forced into the service of the King and assigned to guard the northern wastes at Morvir on the borders of the Icy Mists. The light was just clearing the tops of the mountains as we came around the bend of the trail. Grum and Grig were in their normal spot in the middle of the patrol. Their good friends Dar and Seca were right in behind them and were dragging their feet just as much as Grum and Grig were. It had been one heck of a night for all four of them as they finished off four kegs of beer and tapped into a fifth before the barkeeper had kicked them out. “Would you stop with that stomping Grum” exclaimed Grig. “MY stomping? You are the one intentionally trying to tell every Orc in the valley we are here. It is obvious you aren’t going to be joining the Thieves Guild anytime soon you big oaf!” “Would both of you shut up before I hamstring you and leave you behind.” Interjected Dar. Dar and Seca usually didn’t stay up drinking all night with the Torar brothers Grig and Grum. Last night had been a special occasion. Their company had been selected to escort a local merchant caravan along the borders of the Icy Mists to the trading meca Scarlet Town. Grig and Grum had spent the past 5 years trying to get any assignment that would lead them away from this run down hovel of a town and that day had finally arrived. Grig had been assigned to guard the middle wagon of the three wagon caravan. Grum was on the other side with Dar and Seca in between the middle and rear wagons. The local merchant Gish rode 2

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up front in the first wagon with his wife. The middle wagon was driven by a priest named Father Harley and the rear wagon by two of Gish’s assistants. The creatures came from every nook and cranny. It seemed as if every rock was suddenly sprouting a hideously deformed face or three. It is hard to say what is more disgusting, the smell of the creatures or the hideousness of their visage. They stood all of 5 foot tall, slightly hunched over. Human in every regard but those that make us human. Their guttural speech and utter disregard for their anything vaguely resembling hygiene put them several levels below even the lowliest of humans. They have come to be known as Gnorfs due to their small size and lack of intellect. It was this lack of intellect that allowed any hope of avoiding the ambush. The company was easily outnumbered 10 to 1. A Dwarven warrior can easily handle 3-4 Gnorfs but 10 to 1 is a bit much even if half the company hadn’t been up most of the night celebrating. The one thing about fighting a Gnorf is they are never organized. They will rush you in a mad rush which is just as likely to kill their friends as you, that was about the only thing which saved Grum as he stared down on 20 screaming Gnorfs rushing right at him. A quick swipe of his huge two handed axe took two of the lead Gnorfs right thru the chest tossing them into the group rushing at Dar. Dar grabbed two of his throwing axes and double fisted them into a pair splitting their eyebrows with perfect throws before pulling out his favorite daggers to get to work. Grum kept the rushing fiends at bay with huge swipes of his Axe taking out three and four at a time, yet on they came. One slipped through his guard and Dar executed a nifty spinning move with his daggers placing one low to hamstring him and another high to slice thru his throat as he bent down to grab his useless leg. Grig and Seca had backed up towards Dar and Grum as they fought and were holding a solid line behind them as the four fought in almost perfect unison. The rush of creatures seemed to be slowing as the pile of bodies began to grow when just as suddenly as it had started all of them turned and disappeared back into the rocks of the canyon. The company began to round up their wounded and begin to assess the damage. One of the wagons had lost a wheel, and another one had a few more notches in it than before. It was not nearly as bad as it should have been, nothing made sense. Grum and his brother went to check on the hidden keg of beer they had under the middle wagon, and that is all that saved their lives when the hundred or so Gnorf bodies suddenly burst into flames consuming everyone and everything around them. The wagon they were under was smoking and starting to flame as a hand reached under the wagon and pulled them both to safety. “Both of you, get moving NOW!” yelled Father Harley. Grum looked around to see that the fire was not approaching them but appeared to be held back by some kind of magical barrier, and this barrier was centered on Father Harley. “Father! What is happening why aren’t we in flames like everything else” Grum screamed over the sound of cracking wood and the screams of his fellow soldiers. “Not now. Move your drunken hide. ” Father Harley muttered as he moved away from the worst of the flames. 3

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“But our friends! We have to go back for them!” “And our Beer!” Grum agreed. “It’s too late for your friends, and your beer is better off burned” said Father Harley as he crumbled to the ground. Grig grabbed Harley’s collar and pulled him along behind a pile of rocks as they watched the entire company and their entire stash of beer go up in flames.

Chapter 2: A dark knight approaches

Karl had been walking for days upon days down the dusty road toward Scarlet Town. He was in no hurry to arrive at the next town as that just meant more questions for which he didn’t have the heart to answer. It had been 200 years since anyone had been given the Test of the Gods by the knighthood. It was only given to the most undeserving of knights as it was considered the most dishonorable of ways to be kicked from the knighthood. It was well known that no one had ever completed this test and no one expected it to happen this time either. If the knighthood was displeased with your work ethic or swordmanship they would find some out of the way place for you to serve the land for almost no pay. However, when you disgraced the knighthood as they believed Karl had, you were given the Test of the Gods. It is expected you will die trying to regain your honor and earn your right to be buried in the graveyard of honesty. Anything less would mean your soul would never be laid truly to rest and you would wander the world trying to redeem yourself for eternity. The test laid on Karl was as unfair as any in recorded history. It was now up to Karl to do the impossible, and he has to do it without the backing of the Knighthood or the resources that allows. This situation is what has Karl walking down a dusty road toward Scarlet Town at just the right time, call it divine intervention if you want. Karl would call it his destiny. Karl rounded the bend of the road blinded by the dust of a passing messenger and almost walked into the tall lanky swordmaster heading his way. “Hail stranger, what brings you down this dusty road in the heat of the afternoon sun and the away from the cool shade of yonder tavern!”. The lanky stranger replied “Ale and Shade have no place in my world. I am heading towards the Capital to participate in the yearly tournament. I am 5 time champion there you know!”

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“Well that is very impressive. I wish you the best of luck on your journey. I have my own duties to attend to in the opposite direction it appears.” Karl strode off into the afternoon sun feeling all the more depressed and all the more useless. It seemed everyone had a purpose in their life. His had been the Knighthood since he was old enough to dream and now all those hopes were dashed thanks to one scoundrel y old knight and a horrible twist of fate. Karl was so lost in his own wallowing self pity he failed to hear the piercing battle cry and the ringing of steel on flesh coming from behind him. The tall lanky fellow had stumbled into a world of pain even his magnificent skills couldn’t get him out of. He found himself surrounded by 10 Gnorfs and on any normal day that would be no problem at all. Today however, he found himself fighting blind. The gnorfs had charged out of the woods surrounding the road and just as they engaged him he suddenly lost his eyesight. In all his years he had honed his swordsmanship to a master’s edge, but he had done so at the detriment of all else. He was a one trick pony in a ten trick show now and he was going to pay for that with his life. Karl bellowed his standard warcry for these situations “Die you fiends of the earth! May your vile gods welcome you to their hearth for you are not welcome at mine!” and charged in swinging his massive two handed mace with reckless abandon. Karl caught three of the Gnorfs in one massive swipe of his mace and the other seven thought better of approaching an opponent who could see them. Karl raced over to see about the tall stranger who he found sitting on a rock with a terrified look on his face. “Are you ok? What happened? They could have killed you! Why didn’t you fight back?” Karl blurted out without thinking. “My name is Jalic Selca. I am the greatest swordsman this land has ever known, and I am blind.” Replied the tall stranger with great remorse in his voice. “A blind swordsman? I have never heard of such a thing! How is it you can fight when you are blind?” “No you dithering dolt! I could see 5 minutes ago and now I am blind! That is why I didn’t fight back. Do you think 10 vermin like that could even cause me to break a sweat? I am the greatest swordsman in all the land! None can challenge me!” “An outrage! I shall not rest until I find the foul sorcerer who cursed you so! My life shall be forfeit if you do not see again! On this I the honor of my family and their families beyond! Never has so unjust an act been committed on so honorable a man!” bellow Karl with all the bluster of his youth. “Oh take me now lords above! First you strike me blind and now you send this dolt to protect me? Oh how I must have offended you in numerous lives to deserve this!” moaned Jalic. “Just get me to the tavern a mug of ale. I can’t deal with this sober.” Karl lead the way down the road towards Scarlet 5

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Town with Jalic on his left shoulder, head held low as they stepped into the darkness of the first tavern they came to into town. The tavern was quite crowded at this time of day. The heat of the day was just starting to break and the local farmers and merchants were all crowding in to wash the dust of the day from their throats. An empty table was a luxury that Karl was not lucky enough to stumble upon, but 2 empty chairs at a table with 2 morose dwarves and a chipper old priest may have been even luckier for them. They dropped into the chairs and ordered a double. Quick introductions all around and a few ale later, and they were chattering away like five old women on a front porch. It is impossible to know what would have happened if the five soon to be heroes knew what was to come, most likely they would have all run until their legs couldn’t carry them anymore in trepidation of the tasks that were ahead of them. Fortunately for them and for all the land, none of the five knew the odds they faced or the impossible nature of their quest. None of them even knew they were on a quest, but a quest they were about to embark on. A quest for which no one could ever have been less prepared than this group.

Chapter 3: Inspiration in Fire The sun was just starting to venture below the tops of the houses as Grum and Grig finished loading the final keg of beer on the wagon. Grum hopped up into the driver’s seat while Grig rode in the rear to make sure nothing jostled loose. “Ready to roll brother? Final delivery of the day, if we get any more business we won’t be able to handle it.” Grum shouted back over his shoulder as they rolled away from the warehouse. The wagon rolled up to the back of the alehouse and was met by a pudgy old dwarf who seemed to know the brothers. “I was beginning to wonder if you two were going to show! I have an alehouse full of thirsty dwarves waiting on their mugs of Torar Special! I can’t keep this stuff in stock!” exclaimed the pudgy dwarf. As the brothers were unloading the wagon, a couple of burly bouncer types came out and started carrying the kegs in two at a time. “Careful with the ale! You can’t be bouncing it around like that, it is very… “ before Grum could finish his warning the two kegs closest to the alehouse began to smoke. All Grum and Grig could do duck and hide behind the wall as the first keg exploded right on the shoulder of the bouncer, triggering the next one and the next one until the chain reaction reached the wagon.

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Grum woke up clenching his knees to his chest and shivering, completely drenched in sweat. He had been having the same nightmare every night since the incident with the merchant train and it was already starting to wear on him. Grum awoke suddenly with a start. It had only been two nights since the fire, but it was obviously not over for him. The road ahead is never clear to anyone, but for Grum it was quite obvious the only way for him was to avenge his fallen friends… and his ale. This new focus and decisiveness was completely unlike Grum, so of course he had to wake his brother to tell him. He never even considered that it was well before sunrise and his brother might not appreciate the friendly pre-dawn wakeup shove, or the bucket of cold water that accompanied it. Father Harley rose before dawn to prepare his devotions and sort out his thoughts. It had been a month since he had his vision that he was to travel to Scarlet Town and assemble this motley band of adventurers. The blind swordsman, the knight of darkness, and the brothers of ale had been assembled. The only problem facing Harley now was what to do with this crew? Could they really stop the black flower he had seen in his vision? What does the flower even represent? Could he even get them to join him on this quest? The only things that was clear to him was that they needed to venture into the mist, every one of them had a part to play in this, and they and to leave now. They had to head towards the peak of the hidden Mountain of the Gods where it is rumored the gods themselves gather to watch their subjects.

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