NORTHEROT HAS FALLEN!
Moderator: Gamemasters
-
- Posts: 373
- Joined: Fri Feb 06, 2004 10:41 am
- Contact:
NORTHEROT HAS FALLEN!
Werte Bürger Trollsbane!!!
Gestern wurde Northerot von tapferen Bürgern aus allen Kreisen gestürmt und besiegt.
Northerot ist gefallen!!!
Die Stadt liegt in Schutt und Asche. Die Burg wird derzeit von einem Teil der Stadtwache sowie ein paar Bürgern Trollsbane bewacht; die Schlösser der Tore werden ausgetauscht, damit das Gesindel sich nicht wieder dort einnisten kann, solange über die Schleifung der Burg entschieden wird.
Vahkos Nosral, auch bekannt als Fortinbris wurde gefangen genommen. Seine Hinrichtung wird am morgigen Tage stattfinden.
Mein Dank geht an alle mit denen ich gestern Seite an Seite gegen das Northerot´sche Pack kämpfen durfte! Es war ein glorreicher Sieg!
Gez.
Gwynnether von Glanwen
Stadtgardistin
Gestern wurde Northerot von tapferen Bürgern aus allen Kreisen gestürmt und besiegt.
Northerot ist gefallen!!!
Die Stadt liegt in Schutt und Asche. Die Burg wird derzeit von einem Teil der Stadtwache sowie ein paar Bürgern Trollsbane bewacht; die Schlösser der Tore werden ausgetauscht, damit das Gesindel sich nicht wieder dort einnisten kann, solange über die Schleifung der Burg entschieden wird.
Vahkos Nosral, auch bekannt als Fortinbris wurde gefangen genommen. Seine Hinrichtung wird am morgigen Tage stattfinden.
Mein Dank geht an alle mit denen ich gestern Seite an Seite gegen das Northerot´sche Pack kämpfen durfte! Es war ein glorreicher Sieg!
Gez.
Gwynnether von Glanwen
Stadtgardistin
-
- Posts: 373
- Joined: Fri Feb 06, 2004 10:41 am
- Contact:
Dear citizens of Trollsbane!!!
Yesterday the kingdom of Northerot was stormed by a group of brave citizens formed from all niches of society
Northerot has fallen
The settlement was destroyed completely. The castle is currently occupied by parts of the town guard and some other volunteers. The locks will be exchanged, so the scum cannot intrude there again, until the castle´s fate will be decided.
Vahkos Nosral, also known as Fortinbris Bloodhearte was taken as prisoner and will be executed in public the next day.
I would like to thank everyone at whose side I was allowed to fight against Northerot´s minions. It was a glorious victory!
Gwynnether von Glanwen
Town guard
Yesterday the kingdom of Northerot was stormed by a group of brave citizens formed from all niches of society
Northerot has fallen
The settlement was destroyed completely. The castle is currently occupied by parts of the town guard and some other volunteers. The locks will be exchanged, so the scum cannot intrude there again, until the castle´s fate will be decided.
Vahkos Nosral, also known as Fortinbris Bloodhearte was taken as prisoner and will be executed in public the next day.
I would like to thank everyone at whose side I was allowed to fight against Northerot´s minions. It was a glorious victory!
Gwynnether von Glanwen
Town guard
-
- Posts: 285
- Joined: Wed Apr 23, 2003 7:04 pm
After several days of fierce battles, the troops of Trollsbane march home. Wounded, tired, some only with the help of a comrade, they pass the east gate, watched by a crowd of excited citizens.
Quickly, the word speads:
Northerot is no more
Where the castle of Northerot once stood, only burnt ruins remain, the huts, that were built infront of the fortification were turned to rubble in the early stages of the fight. Not only mortal enemies the men and women had to face, after the guard had taken control of the castle, the evil that lurked in the dark tunnels, that stretched out beneath the castle, revealed itself and a horde of monstrosities tried to force its way up to the surface. Deep in the earth the tainted magic of the former lord of the castle had awakened beings from the netherworlds.
The allied troops cleansed the narrow passages and caverns one by one. After hours of constant fighting they reached the deepest part of the tunnels. The walls were almost glooming from the unnatural forces, that fooled one´s senses and a whole rot of tainted, monstrous demons awaited the attackers.
The fight was costly, but the hulking creatures were taken down one after the next. With powerfull magic the Elder of the grey light and the grey clothed man destroyed the buildings structure and as the warriors fled out of the towering castle, it collapsed completely.
The castle, Darlok had once forced the inhabitants of the island to build, was no more. His tomb buried under tons of earth and stone. The work was done.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Nach mehreren Tagen voller wilder Gefechte kehren die siegreichen Truppen von Trollsbane zurück. Müde, manche verwundet, andere nur mit der Hilfe ihrer Kameraden, schleppen sie sich durch das Osttor der Stadt, von einem wahren Menschenauflauf begafft.
Schnell verbreitet sich die Kunde:
Northerot existiert nicht mehr
Dort, wo einst die Burg des Reiches stand, bleiben nur versengte und zerschlagene Ruinen, die Hütten, die sich früher in den Schatten der Burg gekauert hatten, waren schon am ersten Tag des Kampfes dem Erdboden gleichgemacht worden. Doch nicht nur Sterblichen hatten die Männer und Frauen der Streitkräfte die Stirn zu bieten. Nachdem die Garde die Befestigung unter ihre Kontrolle gebracht hatte, erwachte in den dunklen Tiefen der weitverzweigten Tunnelsysteme unter der Burg, das Böse zum Leben, dass dort schon lange gelauert hatte. Ein wahrer Strom von wiedernatürlichen Bestien ergoß sich in die Kellerräume der Burg und versuchte sich den Weg an die Oberfläche zu bahnen. All die üblen Kräfte, die der, nun tote, Tyrann zu Lebzeiten hier gewirkt hatte, hatten Wesen aus den Tiefen der Niederwelt angelockt.
Die verbündeten Truppen säuberten die engen Gänge und weiten Hallen des Labyrinths eine nach der anderen. Nacht stundenlangen Kampf gelangten sie bis in die tiefsten Teile der Höhlen. Vollgesogen von der unwirklichen Kraft der verdorbenen Magie Darlok´s, schienen die Wände leicht in einem unwirklichen Licht zu schimmern, das einen an seinen Sinnen zweifeln ließ und es erwartete sie dort ein ganzes Rudel der hoch aufragenden, verzerrten Kreaturen des gefallenen Gottes.
Viel Blut kostete es, diese unheiligen Bestien zu bezwingen, doch nach und nach fielen sie unter den todesverachtenden Angriffen der Krieger. Mit machtvoller Magie ließen der Elder des Grauen Lichtes und der graugekuttete Gottesdiener die Fundamente der Feste erzittern, so dass sie dann sie mit markerschütterndem Getöse hinter den Kämpfern in sich zusammenstürzte.
Die Feste, welche Darlok die Einwohner der Insel einst gezwungen hatte zu errichten, war nicht mehr. Sein Grab liegt begraben unter Tonnen von Schutt und Gestein. Das Werk war vollbracht.
Quickly, the word speads:
Northerot is no more
Where the castle of Northerot once stood, only burnt ruins remain, the huts, that were built infront of the fortification were turned to rubble in the early stages of the fight. Not only mortal enemies the men and women had to face, after the guard had taken control of the castle, the evil that lurked in the dark tunnels, that stretched out beneath the castle, revealed itself and a horde of monstrosities tried to force its way up to the surface. Deep in the earth the tainted magic of the former lord of the castle had awakened beings from the netherworlds.
The allied troops cleansed the narrow passages and caverns one by one. After hours of constant fighting they reached the deepest part of the tunnels. The walls were almost glooming from the unnatural forces, that fooled one´s senses and a whole rot of tainted, monstrous demons awaited the attackers.
The fight was costly, but the hulking creatures were taken down one after the next. With powerfull magic the Elder of the grey light and the grey clothed man destroyed the buildings structure and as the warriors fled out of the towering castle, it collapsed completely.
The castle, Darlok had once forced the inhabitants of the island to build, was no more. His tomb buried under tons of earth and stone. The work was done.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Nach mehreren Tagen voller wilder Gefechte kehren die siegreichen Truppen von Trollsbane zurück. Müde, manche verwundet, andere nur mit der Hilfe ihrer Kameraden, schleppen sie sich durch das Osttor der Stadt, von einem wahren Menschenauflauf begafft.
Schnell verbreitet sich die Kunde:
Northerot existiert nicht mehr
Dort, wo einst die Burg des Reiches stand, bleiben nur versengte und zerschlagene Ruinen, die Hütten, die sich früher in den Schatten der Burg gekauert hatten, waren schon am ersten Tag des Kampfes dem Erdboden gleichgemacht worden. Doch nicht nur Sterblichen hatten die Männer und Frauen der Streitkräfte die Stirn zu bieten. Nachdem die Garde die Befestigung unter ihre Kontrolle gebracht hatte, erwachte in den dunklen Tiefen der weitverzweigten Tunnelsysteme unter der Burg, das Böse zum Leben, dass dort schon lange gelauert hatte. Ein wahrer Strom von wiedernatürlichen Bestien ergoß sich in die Kellerräume der Burg und versuchte sich den Weg an die Oberfläche zu bahnen. All die üblen Kräfte, die der, nun tote, Tyrann zu Lebzeiten hier gewirkt hatte, hatten Wesen aus den Tiefen der Niederwelt angelockt.
Die verbündeten Truppen säuberten die engen Gänge und weiten Hallen des Labyrinths eine nach der anderen. Nacht stundenlangen Kampf gelangten sie bis in die tiefsten Teile der Höhlen. Vollgesogen von der unwirklichen Kraft der verdorbenen Magie Darlok´s, schienen die Wände leicht in einem unwirklichen Licht zu schimmern, das einen an seinen Sinnen zweifeln ließ und es erwartete sie dort ein ganzes Rudel der hoch aufragenden, verzerrten Kreaturen des gefallenen Gottes.
Viel Blut kostete es, diese unheiligen Bestien zu bezwingen, doch nach und nach fielen sie unter den todesverachtenden Angriffen der Krieger. Mit machtvoller Magie ließen der Elder des Grauen Lichtes und der graugekuttete Gottesdiener die Fundamente der Feste erzittern, so dass sie dann sie mit markerschütterndem Getöse hinter den Kämpfern in sich zusammenstürzte.
Die Feste, welche Darlok die Einwohner der Insel einst gezwungen hatte zu errichten, war nicht mehr. Sein Grab liegt begraben unter Tonnen von Schutt und Gestein. Das Werk war vollbracht.
Last edited by Hagen von Rabenfeld on Fri Jun 04, 2004 4:17 am, edited 1 time in total.
- Val De Gausse
- Posts: 755
- Joined: Thu Sep 18, 2003 3:08 pm
- Location: The Ban Resists!
Val came up from the old skull cave after paying hommage to his father's grave. He walks up and sees Gwynn hurt, he hands her a potion. He then walks into thte castle which is in truins and the man are being attacked. He offered his help, only to protect his last home. They refused and Val left. After the whole this was done Val sat and meditated in the old ruins to release his anger. He tried his hardest, but the town had taken everything from him.
- Grunith Shuth
- Posts: 156
- Joined: Fri Jun 13, 2003 2:53 am
- Location: United States - Illinois
A war torn orc walks up to the north with his axe in hand and his body leaning up against the axe handle. As he approaches the ruins of the once gloomy looking castle and huts, a smirk plays on his lips. He looks around once more at the now desolate region and then looks around at the uninhabited land. It was quiet, all too quiet. Thoughts raced through his mind, thoughts of the future and of future industy in the north. Thoughts of an orcish control over the land, and thoughts of his dream come true. They had won, and now, it was there, with no one about. The looming castle ruins, as they were before the castle was build anew, stood there again.
Grunith also looks down at himself, and saw the old blood and gore left over from his slaign foes. The gore was that of the devilish fiends that came up from below the castle. His heart throbbed in his pride and as the smirk on his lips disappeared, he came to realize his own body was broken temporarily. He had to rest and regain his strength. He was going to need it for the future. As he looked at the blood, thoughts began to run through his mind again. Memories that only happened that day. Memories of the fight against the fiends. Of how the orcs charged in with weapons slashing and snarels ringing through the halls. The savageness of the orcs was displayed that day, from the leadership and from the fighting.
The fight endured hours, and many died as were wounded. Orcs and humans alike. Many limbs were broken, many heads were severed, and many torso's were pierced by the threats of the undead. But victorious they had become, all the forces, but out of hte fighting, the orc known as Grunith Shuth came to realize that his own kind, were the best displayed combatants of the lot. They had charged in three or four times when the humans had hesitated or stopped to talk, and they had survived the fights. They were strong warriors, and were still after the fight.
As he came back from his memories, Grunith once again looked around the barren realm. New measures were to be demanded of him and his clan of ruthless orcs. They had a new duty. A duty that would require them to keep watch on the land. Grunith then looked south, he knew that somehow, the battle was not quite over. He thought within his mind, that the war was not over quite yet. There were still those of the old kingdom, those who were willing to fight in retaliation who would refuse to be rebuked. Those who would find the incredulous destruction of the castle unbearable and those who were wanting to take it back and continue the time of the castle.
"Work will begins immediately...", Grunith said. And so it would.
Grunith also looks down at himself, and saw the old blood and gore left over from his slaign foes. The gore was that of the devilish fiends that came up from below the castle. His heart throbbed in his pride and as the smirk on his lips disappeared, he came to realize his own body was broken temporarily. He had to rest and regain his strength. He was going to need it for the future. As he looked at the blood, thoughts began to run through his mind again. Memories that only happened that day. Memories of the fight against the fiends. Of how the orcs charged in with weapons slashing and snarels ringing through the halls. The savageness of the orcs was displayed that day, from the leadership and from the fighting.
The fight endured hours, and many died as were wounded. Orcs and humans alike. Many limbs were broken, many heads were severed, and many torso's were pierced by the threats of the undead. But victorious they had become, all the forces, but out of hte fighting, the orc known as Grunith Shuth came to realize that his own kind, were the best displayed combatants of the lot. They had charged in three or four times when the humans had hesitated or stopped to talk, and they had survived the fights. They were strong warriors, and were still after the fight.
As he came back from his memories, Grunith once again looked around the barren realm. New measures were to be demanded of him and his clan of ruthless orcs. They had a new duty. A duty that would require them to keep watch on the land. Grunith then looked south, he knew that somehow, the battle was not quite over. He thought within his mind, that the war was not over quite yet. There were still those of the old kingdom, those who were willing to fight in retaliation who would refuse to be rebuked. Those who would find the incredulous destruction of the castle unbearable and those who were wanting to take it back and continue the time of the castle.
"Work will begins immediately...", Grunith said. And so it would.
Damien mentioned something about making the small huts habitable again, so Fooser went North, looking at the mess. He shook his head, and saw Val. They went back towards town, and heard a crumbling of one of the castle towers. They went back again and the entire area was in disrepair. He dragged his feet against the dirt. He pictured the different stages of Northerot in his mind, the Ruins, the construction, the completion, the town, and now this was the image that would finish it.
"There is no hope to be found here..."
He glances at a burnt chair in one of the houses. He walks over to it and grabbed it. It was still somewhat sturdy. He took the chair by the top and dragged it across the dirt and grass, to the edge of northerot. He stepped one foot past the border and placed the chair down. He put a piece of leather behind him and slept while sitting on the chair.
"There is no hope to be found here..."
He glances at a burnt chair in one of the houses. He walks over to it and grabbed it. It was still somewhat sturdy. He took the chair by the top and dragged it across the dirt and grass, to the edge of northerot. He stepped one foot past the border and placed the chair down. He put a piece of leather behind him and slept while sitting on the chair.
Fooser wakes up from his chair, which is now on the verge of collapse, and he quickly gets up. He walks over toward the castle, he hears orcs in the distance, but does not worry about them. Vahkos comes a while later and brings up the idea of attacking the town. Fooser thought this a bad idea, it seemed like a rash act. Val and Vahkos left for the town, and Fooser followed a while behind them. The three stood on the other side of the river, and entered town through the south. Fooser peered around and lowered his hat below most of his head so no one would recognize him. Vahkos and Val went toward the east gate, looking for Galim, but found Veralion, their origional target. Veralion defeated Vahkos and more people gathered in the area. John walked up toward the group. Fooser began trembling under his cape, having a guard so close to him inside town, and he lowers his hat even farther. He leaves, and Val does also a while later. Vahkos is taken prisoner by the guards. Fooser walks to the southeastern forest and lays there for a long while. What to do now? There was nothing else.
- Val De Gausse
- Posts: 755
- Joined: Thu Sep 18, 2003 3:08 pm
- Location: The Ban Resists!
-
- Posts: 285
- Joined: Wed Apr 23, 2003 7:04 pm
Word spreads, that Fortinbris Bloodhearte, also known as Vakhos Nosral, the nethermancer and right hand of the former tyrant, is dead. After he was taken as prisoner and thrown into the dark cells of the southern tower for several days, he demanded to be brought infront of the commander of the town guard.
He wished for being allowed to end his own life and in the dusk of a that chilly day, his wish was granted and he threw himself in his own blade. His body was burnt and his ashes scattered with the wind.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Schnell verbreitet sich die Kunde, dass Fortinbris Bloodhearte, auch bekannt als Vakhos Nosral, ein Nekromant und die ehemalige rechte Hand des Tyrannen, tot ist. Nachdem er für mehrere Tage als Kriegsgefangener in die dunklen Zellen des Kerkers gebracht worden war, verlangte er, den Hauptmann der Stadtwache zu sprechen.
Er bat um die Erlaubnis, seinem Leben ein Ende setzen zu dürfen und im Sonnenuntergang dieses kalten Abends, erfüllte man seinen Wunsch und er stürzte sich in seine eigene Klinge. Sein Leichnam wurde verbrannt und seine Asche in alle Winde zerstreut.
He wished for being allowed to end his own life and in the dusk of a that chilly day, his wish was granted and he threw himself in his own blade. His body was burnt and his ashes scattered with the wind.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Schnell verbreitet sich die Kunde, dass Fortinbris Bloodhearte, auch bekannt als Vakhos Nosral, ein Nekromant und die ehemalige rechte Hand des Tyrannen, tot ist. Nachdem er für mehrere Tage als Kriegsgefangener in die dunklen Zellen des Kerkers gebracht worden war, verlangte er, den Hauptmann der Stadtwache zu sprechen.
Er bat um die Erlaubnis, seinem Leben ein Ende setzen zu dürfen und im Sonnenuntergang dieses kalten Abends, erfüllte man seinen Wunsch und er stürzte sich in seine eigene Klinge. Sein Leichnam wurde verbrannt und seine Asche in alle Winde zerstreut.
Willum watches Val surrender and wonders if he should too. He come to the conclustion that he would not for now...and remain in the wild, for the months befor he joined Arkadia that was all he knew. He thought hard and just noded to his thoughts. Perhaps Val had finally found the home he so wanted.....Willum felt happy for him yet did not convey his feelings to any one walking alone in the forest.
-
- Posts: 1175
- Joined: Sat Jul 06, 2002 11:22 pm
- Location: Don't Feed the Troll...
- Contact:
- Cain Freemont
- Posts: 1424
- Joined: Sun Apr 21, 2002 8:54 pm
- Location: Oh, you know. Places.
A familiar elven man steps into the light from behind shadowy walls. After receiving word of the fall of Northerot he mutters, "And thus the oppression spreads," his words trailing off as he wanders through Troll's Bane, up past the town, and towards the place Northerot stood once before, saddened by the destruction. "Poor fools," the elven man mutters. "They never had a chance with all the oppressiveness and aggression of Lyrenzia."
The tall elven man wanders around the area of the ruins, seeing the guards and wondering if they feel so righteous, or if they feel guilt for the orders they were forced to partake in; whether they know that they killed humans, or whether they thought they were just scattering some monstrous foe. He approaches a guard near the ruins and says with tranquility,
"I know not whether to pity you or scorn you for your blind aggression towards others of your race. Why do you murder others of your own kind, do you not see that your own life is just as easily taken and that you should cherish all such lives that are so easily crumpled?"
The tall elven man wanders around the area of the ruins, seeing the guards and wondering if they feel so righteous, or if they feel guilt for the orders they were forced to partake in; whether they know that they killed humans, or whether they thought they were just scattering some monstrous foe. He approaches a guard near the ruins and says with tranquility,
"I know not whether to pity you or scorn you for your blind aggression towards others of your race. Why do you murder others of your own kind, do you not see that your own life is just as easily taken and that you should cherish all such lives that are so easily crumpled?"