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Fairly short and self contained story of the life and fall of Garun Marblelight and Pel Dragus-Bor.
The first part of the story I'll post here as a small snippet.
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Two figures walked together in the darkness of a cavern, deep below the circular mountain range of Middle Kevica, in an ancient time. One was a dwarf, covered in head to toe in heavy armor, practically cracking the ground with each step. His helm was elvish shaped however, and his Warhammer which hanged from his belt was well forged. Even though his cloak was of a fine dark blue, his Hold’s colors were of lighter colors, his eyes were a darkish red, a rarity of the mundane folk of Faian. He was named Garun, of the house of Marblelight, a dwarf whose beard was graying, and his face showed great age. He walked not as a king next to his companion, but in friendly step with a kobold next to him.
This kobold was named Pel Bor, of the dragonic house of Dragus, thus Dragus-Bor. He was no normal creature himself; he was golden scaled with orange horns jutting from the back of his ears, his wear being made from a collection of elvish silk and lined in gold. On his head was a crown which housed fifteen small candles, one made for each of the dragons he worshipped. He walked with a spear in one hand, and a shield to his back. He was smiling and, in another hand, loosely carried a swaying a lantern. Both were calm as they walked the caverns alone, as Garun tried to create a mental picture for Pel.
“Can ya imagine, Pel. A cavern carved, like a road the elves use, stretching across from one of our holds to the next! Large, marble pass ways connecting every great settlement, all of it illuminated with braziers which flow an everlasting oil which flows from towers high above! No need for glowing mushrooms, and the like.”
Pel nodded, adding to Garun’s thoughts “Such thoughts on trade, Garun?” Garun looked to Pel, giving a hearty laugh. Pel was at first confused, but Garun explained his outburst “Pel, let me speak your people’s language, and you do not speak mine. I swore you gained a lisp!” Pel gave a hearty grunt and nodded only in agreement. Garun answered his question, speaking in a high tone “A time of rebuilding is at hand, Pel. Now is a time for my people to return to their crafts and to make peace with our neighbors, to bind us by trade and not by all those petty feuds. We Marblelights have been fighting pointless skirmishes with the Ramstocks for generations now, and for what? All because my bleeding grandfather put his axe into the skull of the Ramstock patriarch when they rebelled against those squirrel eared cretans the first time! Ha! If only Grandpaps could see me now!”
Pel smiled as Garun ranted. Not too long ago, less than a week perhaps, the elves began to pull out their permanent garrisons in the dwarf holds. He had no clue because at first, the elves had been pulling further out of the mountains for the last decade or two, after the dragons left. Pel was not a priest, but he was granted lord protector of the Dragonlands, united against resurgent menaces. One of those menaces had returned in full force, the goblins which had once been a minor nuisance has turned into a bigger problem. The dragons still left in Kevica, as young as they were, at least kept them somewhat at bay. Yet, each day, caverns had to be given up as the goblins surged forward. He was happy for Garun, who came to his city with gold and weapons, gifting to the kobolds in a time of need. In those years, he was a young dwarvish king of Vag-Trunyan, now he was the king of a larger coalition. Garun had only recently just overthrown the elvish yoke, fighting lost and routed elves in the labyrinthine caverns of Middle Kevica. Now, at long last after such a long generation of bending knee to them, the elves had left Middle Kevica for good. The reason at first sounded suicidal to Pel, the elves had magic and massive armies, neither of which came to bring the dwarves back into the fold. He would learn only later that a stranger appeared on western shores, a human of all things, led a great host from their lonesome island. It was somewhat funny, Pel thought, that it was a people thought to be the slaves of elvish kind that drew their attention and not Garun.
Whatever happened, Pel didn’t really ask for details, but once the elves left it was kobolds who quickly filled the gaps and began to seal up the old entrances and kicked retreating elvish armies into the hands of Garun and his coalition. Garun was more than just an ally and giver of gifts, Pel began to think of the long lived, stocky, and honorable Garun as a friend. Garun had made time, even during his war, to be there for the birth and blessing of Pel’s second youngster and enjoyed the dwarf’s company immensely. Dwarves, to a fault, were honorable, but the way Garun spoke and acted made Pel think he was more genuine than most. Even as they explored the holds when he did a temporary tour of the dwarvish holds, Garun acted with kindness to all he met, even to his own retinue. It impressed Pel considerably, returning to attention once Garun lightly nudged him.
“You dozing off, Pel? Am I really that boring?”
“No, good friend.” Pel answered awkwardly “I am just thinking. There is much to do once we are done with our walk. The goblins failed to siege down the realms of Jusugar and Brenegar, but my generals and priests tell me they will return. The younger drakes ask me to pursue them, and I obey.”
“Goblins really giving you that many troubles, Pel?”
“Yes, Garun. Their entire race refused to obey the whims of our gods and continued to dwell too deep to touch. With the dragons having gone west, I am hoping their return will be short. The priests expect me to perform miracles, but I feel I can only perform paltry tricks.”
Garun snickered at this “Pel, do trust me, you aren’t performing any manner of paltry tricks. It is impressive the dragonlands has had such troubles with the goblins for years, but perhaps my people can help.”
“So soon?” Pel asked in surprise. Garun nodded “My people need room to expand, after all. Goblin land is vast and desirable, and a friend need help. I could not ask for a better situation even if I prayed for it.” The two stopped at the edge of an interesting cavern, a large and open space with stalagmites above them, and a large black pool in front. However, off to the side was a carved entrance to one of the roads, carved with images of dragons and lighted by blue and green fungus, a natural plant which grew in the darkness and cultivated for generations by the dwellers of the mountains. It was a smaller road, not as grand as Garun’s reimagining road would be. Pel nodded, turning to his friend who gave a warm smile back. “I will take this information to the drakes and priests, but I already know their answer Garun. What you are giving, I have no words for it. Thank you.”
Garun nodded “I’ll gather me host, Pel. We will hammer out the deal, in my own hold if you wouldn’t mind. We’ll drive those green skinned freaks back into whatever hellish hole they crawled out of for good.”
Pel humbly nodded his head in acceptance of his proposal and turned around to leave. Yet, before Garun himself left back to his own retinue farther behind, Pel called out him. “Garun!” Garun turned as Pel came up to him, smiling as he did.
“Garun, you have been a friend not only to me, but to the dragons as well. I am comfortable enough to give you this.” Pel reached into one of his pockets of his robes, pulling out something small. It was black, a carved obsidian idol made in the image of a sitting dragon with a gold line shooting down its back and colored in a gilded silver. It had bright diamonds for eyes, as Garun gave Pel a curious look. “It was my father’s, and his fathers before him. It is a symbol of my patron lord, and I give it to you. Should anything happen to me, in battle or accident, I wish you to perform my rites. Just as our gods look over us, I want you to look after my own till they come of age.”
Garun was given the statue, not fully knowing the ancient rites of the dragonlands, but he accepted it none the less. He played with the small idol in his hands, looking it over. He looked to Pel, giving a wide and warm grin. “In my people’s tongue, we’d call them friend-fathers, Pel. I imagine it is quite an honor.”
“More so. Any friend of the dragons is family to us. Your people, as we succeed in driving back the invader, I look forward to a warm welcome.” Pel turned, a confidence in his step as he went down the path to his home and did not look back. Garun was left alone, taking out a torch and lighting it as he looked at the idol in his hands. He looked up, making sure Pel was gone before his warm face began to crumple into a cold frown. He took the idol and put it into his own pouch before going back the way he came.
Fairly short and self contained story of the life and fall of Garun Marblelight and Pel Dragus-Bor.
The first part of the story I'll post here as a small snippet.
____________
Two figures walked together in the darkness of a cavern, deep below the circular mountain range of Middle Kevica, in an ancient time. One was a dwarf, covered in head to toe in heavy armor, practically cracking the ground with each step. His helm was elvish shaped however, and his Warhammer which hanged from his belt was well forged. Even though his cloak was of a fine dark blue, his Hold’s colors were of lighter colors, his eyes were a darkish red, a rarity of the mundane folk of Faian. He was named Garun, of the house of Marblelight, a dwarf whose beard was graying, and his face showed great age. He walked not as a king next to his companion, but in friendly step with a kobold next to him.
This kobold was named Pel Bor, of the dragonic house of Dragus, thus Dragus-Bor. He was no normal creature himself; he was golden scaled with orange horns jutting from the back of his ears, his wear being made from a collection of elvish silk and lined in gold. On his head was a crown which housed fifteen small candles, one made for each of the dragons he worshipped. He walked with a spear in one hand, and a shield to his back. He was smiling and, in another hand, loosely carried a swaying a lantern. Both were calm as they walked the caverns alone, as Garun tried to create a mental picture for Pel.
“Can ya imagine, Pel. A cavern carved, like a road the elves use, stretching across from one of our holds to the next! Large, marble pass ways connecting every great settlement, all of it illuminated with braziers which flow an everlasting oil which flows from towers high above! No need for glowing mushrooms, and the like.”
Pel nodded, adding to Garun’s thoughts “Such thoughts on trade, Garun?” Garun looked to Pel, giving a hearty laugh. Pel was at first confused, but Garun explained his outburst “Pel, let me speak your people’s language, and you do not speak mine. I swore you gained a lisp!” Pel gave a hearty grunt and nodded only in agreement. Garun answered his question, speaking in a high tone “A time of rebuilding is at hand, Pel. Now is a time for my people to return to their crafts and to make peace with our neighbors, to bind us by trade and not by all those petty feuds. We Marblelights have been fighting pointless skirmishes with the Ramstocks for generations now, and for what? All because my bleeding grandfather put his axe into the skull of the Ramstock patriarch when they rebelled against those squirrel eared cretans the first time! Ha! If only Grandpaps could see me now!”
Pel smiled as Garun ranted. Not too long ago, less than a week perhaps, the elves began to pull out their permanent garrisons in the dwarf holds. He had no clue because at first, the elves had been pulling further out of the mountains for the last decade or two, after the dragons left. Pel was not a priest, but he was granted lord protector of the Dragonlands, united against resurgent menaces. One of those menaces had returned in full force, the goblins which had once been a minor nuisance has turned into a bigger problem. The dragons still left in Kevica, as young as they were, at least kept them somewhat at bay. Yet, each day, caverns had to be given up as the goblins surged forward. He was happy for Garun, who came to his city with gold and weapons, gifting to the kobolds in a time of need. In those years, he was a young dwarvish king of Vag-Trunyan, now he was the king of a larger coalition. Garun had only recently just overthrown the elvish yoke, fighting lost and routed elves in the labyrinthine caverns of Middle Kevica. Now, at long last after such a long generation of bending knee to them, the elves had left Middle Kevica for good. The reason at first sounded suicidal to Pel, the elves had magic and massive armies, neither of which came to bring the dwarves back into the fold. He would learn only later that a stranger appeared on western shores, a human of all things, led a great host from their lonesome island. It was somewhat funny, Pel thought, that it was a people thought to be the slaves of elvish kind that drew their attention and not Garun.
Whatever happened, Pel didn’t really ask for details, but once the elves left it was kobolds who quickly filled the gaps and began to seal up the old entrances and kicked retreating elvish armies into the hands of Garun and his coalition. Garun was more than just an ally and giver of gifts, Pel began to think of the long lived, stocky, and honorable Garun as a friend. Garun had made time, even during his war, to be there for the birth and blessing of Pel’s second youngster and enjoyed the dwarf’s company immensely. Dwarves, to a fault, were honorable, but the way Garun spoke and acted made Pel think he was more genuine than most. Even as they explored the holds when he did a temporary tour of the dwarvish holds, Garun acted with kindness to all he met, even to his own retinue. It impressed Pel considerably, returning to attention once Garun lightly nudged him.
“You dozing off, Pel? Am I really that boring?”
“No, good friend.” Pel answered awkwardly “I am just thinking. There is much to do once we are done with our walk. The goblins failed to siege down the realms of Jusugar and Brenegar, but my generals and priests tell me they will return. The younger drakes ask me to pursue them, and I obey.”
“Goblins really giving you that many troubles, Pel?”
“Yes, Garun. Their entire race refused to obey the whims of our gods and continued to dwell too deep to touch. With the dragons having gone west, I am hoping their return will be short. The priests expect me to perform miracles, but I feel I can only perform paltry tricks.”
Garun snickered at this “Pel, do trust me, you aren’t performing any manner of paltry tricks. It is impressive the dragonlands has had such troubles with the goblins for years, but perhaps my people can help.”
“So soon?” Pel asked in surprise. Garun nodded “My people need room to expand, after all. Goblin land is vast and desirable, and a friend need help. I could not ask for a better situation even if I prayed for it.” The two stopped at the edge of an interesting cavern, a large and open space with stalagmites above them, and a large black pool in front. However, off to the side was a carved entrance to one of the roads, carved with images of dragons and lighted by blue and green fungus, a natural plant which grew in the darkness and cultivated for generations by the dwellers of the mountains. It was a smaller road, not as grand as Garun’s reimagining road would be. Pel nodded, turning to his friend who gave a warm smile back. “I will take this information to the drakes and priests, but I already know their answer Garun. What you are giving, I have no words for it. Thank you.”
Garun nodded “I’ll gather me host, Pel. We will hammer out the deal, in my own hold if you wouldn’t mind. We’ll drive those green skinned freaks back into whatever hellish hole they crawled out of for good.”
Pel humbly nodded his head in acceptance of his proposal and turned around to leave. Yet, before Garun himself left back to his own retinue farther behind, Pel called out him. “Garun!” Garun turned as Pel came up to him, smiling as he did.
“Garun, you have been a friend not only to me, but to the dragons as well. I am comfortable enough to give you this.” Pel reached into one of his pockets of his robes, pulling out something small. It was black, a carved obsidian idol made in the image of a sitting dragon with a gold line shooting down its back and colored in a gilded silver. It had bright diamonds for eyes, as Garun gave Pel a curious look. “It was my father’s, and his fathers before him. It is a symbol of my patron lord, and I give it to you. Should anything happen to me, in battle or accident, I wish you to perform my rites. Just as our gods look over us, I want you to look after my own till they come of age.”
Garun was given the statue, not fully knowing the ancient rites of the dragonlands, but he accepted it none the less. He played with the small idol in his hands, looking it over. He looked to Pel, giving a wide and warm grin. “In my people’s tongue, we’d call them friend-fathers, Pel. I imagine it is quite an honor.”
“More so. Any friend of the dragons is family to us. Your people, as we succeed in driving back the invader, I look forward to a warm welcome.” Pel turned, a confidence in his step as he went down the path to his home and did not look back. Garun was left alone, taking out a torch and lighting it as he looked at the idol in his hands. He looked up, making sure Pel was gone before his warm face began to crumple into a cold frown. He took the idol and put it into his own pouch before going back the way he came.
Category Story / Fantasy
Species Unspecified / Any
Gender Any
Size 50 x 50px
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