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Malak's Tales of Duirt

Re: Malak's Tales of Duirt

Post « DanielD » Fri Feb 08, 2019 5:44 am

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Post « Malak Treny » Fri Feb 08, 2019 6:04 pm

Welcome... I see you wish to hear the end of the tale... very well. Comfortable? Good. I'll begin...

Then there was a sudden grunt from the pit and the dark skinned hand of her friend gripped the lip of the pit and the weight on Angelique's arms eased enough to allow her to brace against the rock floor. She could hear Eloise maneuvering as she held her friend stable, then her other hand appeared, gripping the edge. Her dark knuckles went white with the strain of pulling herself upward. Angelique pulled as well and, after a few moments, both women were outside of the pit, sore but alive. And there, in the light of the light provided by Angelique, was the stolen chest. Eloise looked at Angelique, disbelief in her eyes.

“How?” was all she could ask.

“Roland stirred up the goblins and was chased off by them,” Angelique said softly, feeling puzzled herself by the seeming altruism from a race known only for thefts. “He stole the chest and hid it. Apparently, the goblins don’t want people invading their home, so they left it here, possibly hoping we would take it and leave, I guess?”

“If they don’t want people invading their homes, Ange,” Eloise muttered as she wriggled out of the harness, “they shouldn't raid ours.” Angelique helped her friend.

“I know,” she whispered, “but with you hurt, I don’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth. I say we take it and leave as fast as possible.” Eloise nodded in reply, wincing in pain as she carefully checked her body.

“Nothing broken,” she muttered, “but by Wutysa’s blade, I’m going to be sore for a week…” She and Angelique slowly packed everything up, then Eloise carefully pulled the haversack onto her back while Angelique checked the chest. To her surprise, it was unlocked and, looking inside, she could see several precious treasures of gold and silver. She closed the chest once more and stood up, pleased it was not too heavy. Summoning the light back to her hand, she placed it on top of the chest and the pair began the cautious walk toward the exit. Their progress was slow, not so much for fear of alarming the goblins, but due to their bodies ached.

They were approaching the entrance when a guttural snarl made them stop in their tracks. Rounding the corner in front of them were four squat, grey skinned creatures with gleaming white eyes, crooked teeth and sharp little blades. Seeing the two women, the creatures howled loudly and ran at them. Eloise tried to draw her sword but staggered as she did so, still weak from the fall. Angelique knew it was her turn to protect her friend. She dropped the chest and grabbed a dagger from her sleeve, throwing it at one of the goblins, catching it in the eye. The creature collapsed in mid run, the remaining three ran at her, blades swinging, screaming as they did so.

Angelique could tell she was in trouble. She was better at range attacks than close, and despite their lack of discipline and training, they were dangerous. Now, she was fighting for her life against three angry creatures. Her small blade was in her hand and she slashed at one in desperation. The blade scored along the face of the creature and it staggered back, clutching its head with a wail. A line of fire burned along her leg. She glanced at one of the goblins who was behind her, it had hit her leg with a long, but shallow, slash. Angelique gritted her teeth against the pain. She knew, at any moment, the rest of the tribe would come. She dived to her left, praying the movement would catch the goblins off guard, then pulled her other throwing knife and flung it at the one which had hurt her. The gambit worked. The blades of the goblins slashed where she had been as her throwing knife found the throat of the goblin. It feel to the ground with a gurgle and lay still. Now, there were two left and time was running out.

Shrieking, the goblins leapt at Angelique, their blades up. It was a maneuver which most likely scared villagers. Angelique was not a simple villager. She rolled under the leaping goblins. They crashed to the ground where she had been moments ago. Calling the spell of strength, she grabbed Eloise’s sword and ran at the goblins, screaming her own cry. The goblins hesitated – the easy prey was not easy anymore. Seizing the opportunity, Angelique clumsily swung the sword with all her strength at the uninjured goblin. The blow, normally weak, crashed through the neck of the goblin and the creature fell to the ground without a sound. The last goblin ran toward the cave mouth and out of the complex. Angelique quickly wiped the sword with part of her shirt, then sheathed it, before helping Eloise to her feet, picking up the still closed chest, before the pair staggered to the entrance.

At the entrance, they could see the debris which had been scattered around was largely brushed aside and it was much easier to exit. Eloise looked at it, curious, but did not stop moving. As soon as they were safely outside, Angelique began to giggle slightly. Eloise looked at her friend in the predawn light.

“Alright,” she said, her voice still in some pain. “Out with it… what’s so funny?”

“Well, when we were in the pit, Roland came and gloated. He was the one who stole the chest and dug the pit… all to have us eliminated, but when he went to fight the goblins, or leave, I’m not sure which… the goblins attacked him and he ran out, screaming for help.” Eloise laughed for a moment, then grew serious.

“You realize, Ange, he violated the guild laws,” Eloise said seriously, “leaving us to die at the blades of the goblins, let alone trapping us. That would have him barred for life if proven.”

“I know,” Angelique replied. “And you know how they conduct the interrogations for those sorts of charges…” Eloise nodded with a wide smile.

“It will be well worth it to be rid of him,” she said. “It seems we’re going to receive both a good pay out, and a nice surprise bonus… but first, let’s head back to the Merry Minstrel and have a very pleasant week. You with me, Ange?”

“Right beside you, El,” Angelique replied with a grin. The week was shaping up to be extremely profitable indeed.
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Post « DanielD » Sat Feb 09, 2019 4:59 am

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Post « Malak Treny » Wed Jul 03, 2019 3:33 am

"So, you wish me to tell you the tale I told when I was in the tavern the other day? Very well... this is about the birth of Mauanui, a barbarian warrior of great strength and cunning. When he was born, he was skinny and weak, weaker than othher newborns. And so, the shaman of his tribe declared him deformed and that he was to be left to the elements to die. But his mother refused to accept this fate. While she could not defy the shaman outright, she could find the loopholes within the law and the ruling.

"And so, she swaddled her newborn in leaves gathered from the trees and cast him into the ocean, calling on the spirits of the sea to carry her child to a land where there was no decree of death upon him, that he might grow into a man of strength and courage and wisdom. The sea caught the bundle and carried it way from the shore, intending to swallow the newborn for itself.

"But the sea grew worried, for in her invocations, the mother of Mauanui had recited her lineage, and it was one of strength and pride. Would the family seek out the infant, scrying to learn it's fate? The sea chose not to swallow the infant, but nourished it when it needed food and re-wrapped it in leaves of seaweed against the cold and the sun. But the seaweed was not as good as the fronds of the land against the sun, and where there were gaps, the skin of the infant became dark and thick.

"Seven days and seven nights passed, and the infant continued to be soothed and lulled by the sea. Finally, the bundle came to an island where the sea knew a different people lived. Gently it placed the infant on the white sands of the beach, then receded. Alone for the first time, the infant bawled loudly, drawing the attention of the nearby village. With men and women coming out to find the source of the commotion, it was the village shaman who found the infant, marked by the sun and yet alive and strong, stronger than most infants would be. Declaring that the spirit of the sea had brought them this child, he decreed that the childless wife of the chief would raise him, and that his markings declared him to have undergone a rite of manhood... and was no longer a child but a man.

"Thus did Mauanui find a new home and be declared a man at just a few days old; his first test was against the elements and he triumphed."
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Post « D'Argonet » Thu Jul 04, 2019 5:50 pm

D'Argonet sat at the back of the classroom, listening intently to the subcontext and all the information the legend told to him spoke of. He frowned, considering all the other options that perhaps the mother had to hand and finally nodded in agreement, there was no other conclusion to hand as far as he was concerned.


He spoke up after, quietly. "Master, at some point, would you tell me a light hearted tale of my homelands? One before conflict, one to inspire hope that perhaps one day, Voran will be a united land again."
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Post « Malak Treny » Sat Jul 06, 2019 8:50 am

D'Argonet wrote:"Master, at some point, would you tell me a light hearted tale of my homelands? One before conflict, one to inspire hope that perhaps one day, Voran will be a united land again."


Malak nods, listening to the request, his blue eyes gleaming.

"Of course," he replies. "History is always important to learn so that we may develop a way forward. Heed then the tale of Heldan Moonwick, a bard who delighted in laughter and deeds of daring. His origin is lost to the mists of time; some say he was the son of a noble family and was bored with the opulent and hedonistic lifestyle afforded to him, others say he was born to common parentage with a silver tongue. What is known is that when he was an adult, he could charm ladies with mere words, out gamble even hardened sailors and gamblers, and his wit was as swift as his rapier. No matter the instrument he was given, he could perform on it and he could out dance even the hardiest dancers.

"One particular evening, he had sung for his supper in a tavern when he was challenged by a young woman to a contest of the blade, the wit, and the voice. All were areas that Heldan was known for being a master in, and yet he knew that there was some trickery afoot. Such challenges did not simply arise out of nowhere and thus, alert and aware, he accepted the challenge, with one condition - all three must be performed at the same time.

"The woman was caught off guard, and tried to have each performed individually, but Heldan was insistent. All three must be performed at once... 'Or how else can it be shown that I was truly defeated?' he asked with a broad smile... for he had heard snickering rippling through the tavern and he knew that the young woman sought to humiliate him. 'Very well,' the young woman conceded, then suddenly grinned a wolfish grin. 'You will face me, myself, and I.' At her words, two other women, with identical features to the first entered and Heldan knew the ruse. Identical Triplets, each a master of her chosen form - the sword, wit, and the voice.

"WIthout a word, the first fell on Heldan, her rapier flashing with speed and precision, and yet it met naught but air as Heldan deftly danced out of the way, parrying with ease. 'Too afraid to fight a woman, twinkle-toes?' the second called, engaging in the battle of wits. Before he could speak, the third raised her voice in song.

Oh fair the maiden three,
born in lands from far away;
Seeking for a name to make,
Will lay thee low this day.


Heldan knew that the battle was well and truly joined at this time and that he would need to bring a swift end to the fight. One against three was hardly fair odds. For them. And so, he raised his own voice in song, carrying the tune that the third woman had carried, flicking his blade against the first creating an impromptu drum, and singing to the second.

Thrice (ting) I have (ting) met one maid, (ting-ting-ting)
And yet (ting) no blow (ting) has been laid; (ting-ting-ting)
As one (ting) is fanning (ting) when should be biting(ting-ting-ting)
And two (ting) is barking (ting) when could be delighting (ting-ting-ting)
And three (ting) is warbling (ting) when needs be leaping! (ting-ting-TANG)


"And with the last words, Heldan twisted his rapier in a swift motion, disarming the woman in front of him and with a flick of his wrist, had the blade bury itself between the feet of the singer. The three sisters gaped in shock at the bard, their challenge met and beaten as Heldan sheathed his rapier. 'And now, ladies and assembled guests,' Heldan said with a bow, 'I believe that these three ladies have more than earned their own meals for the night for allowing us all to be well entertained, for no stakes were wagered.' And the tavern buzzed with agreement, for in their haste, the trio had not wagered anything except reputation. And in the revelry that followed, Heldan slipped out quietly, unnoticed, into the night and deeper into the legends of Vorus - the roguish bard with the tongue of silver and the heart of gold."
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Post « D'Argonet » Sat Jul 06, 2019 4:49 pm

*He chuckled and nodded as he listened, leaning forwards with his elbows on his knee's and hands clasped.* Thank you Master, I'll take my leave now. *And with that, the man got to his feet and began to leave, only stopping at the door.* I'll leave a drink and a meal at the Lion for you.

*The door closed quietly behind him.*
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Post « Jens » Sun Jul 07, 2019 3:31 pm

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Post « Malak Treny » Fri Aug 16, 2019 9:54 am

It was, on the surface, another lesson for the young, black haired apprentice Malak. He had been given the task of researching some of the local legends and compiling them into a tome to be reviewed for potential inclusion into the great library if it was executed well enough. It was the first time in a long while that Malak had been able to leave the area of study without supervision. And so, with nothing more than his wits, a pen, ink, and plenty of parchment, the young apprentice set out into the streets of Duirt to try and find some stories worth telling.

HIs first stop was the Dead Dog Tavern but after sitting and listening to the various chatter and the tales of the bards, he grew restless and set out for the golden lion to see if the tale tellers there might have more interesting stories to tell. Yet the tales were ones that he had heard before, and were more of the legendary heroic nature that many would listen to with wide eyes. While he would often be among them, this was not what he sought. His meanderings soon led him to the Heroes Park and he walked along, looking at the statues. One caught his attention, a man with an axe over his shoulder and a determined expression. An old man was carefully weeding around the base of the statue and, seeing the teenager’s interest, he motioned him over.

“I see that the statue of my ancestor has caught your attention,” the old man said, stopping in his chore and looking at the young man. Malak nodded silently, aware of his gangly form next to the powerful build of the warrior statue. “Would you like to know how he earned his place here in the park?” Malak nodded again and the old man, who was still soldily built despite his advanced years, sat down and motioned for Malak to do the same.

“It all began with a conflict between orcs and dwarves, one of many, and Hanos was looking for work…”


Hanos was seated in one of the taverns in the southern quarter, bored. His battleaxe was strapped to his back, one booted foot was on the table and a mug of ale was in his hand. His coin was running low and he needed work. Not being a sailor, he knew that this was not the best of places to find employment, but the eastern quarter was too scholarly and the west was too religious. As for the central, well, it was too easy to find oneself in deep water when having a good old fashioned rumble with someone to settle a dispute. Here, at least, as long as no weapons were involved, the Port Authority often would simply look the other way. He finished his ale in a couple of swallows and pondered ordering another when the door burst open, drawing everyone’s attention. It was not that the door was kicked open, but that the kick was propelled by the ironclad boot of a dwarf. There were other mercenaries other than Hanos present in the tavern and the air thickened with anticipation as to what the dwarf would be hiring people for. Their anticipation was soon justified.

“Orcs attacked my caravan,” The dwarf said. “Only reason I didn’t hunt them all down was I had a shipment to run here. Who wants to hunt some orc for gold?” Several men and women stood and walked over to the dwarf, Hanos among them. The dwarf looked at the gathered group and hooked his thumbs into his belt. “I suppose you lot will do… come on,” he said, before turning on his heel and walking out the door. Hanos followed the dwarf, his leather armour creaking slightly as he walked, wondering why the dwarf would be coming to others for aid, especially in the southern quarter. He decided that the reasons were similar to his own for heading to the southern quarter. More men and women ready and willing for a fight, and to do so for money would be an added bonus.

”Go to the market lad, and buy me one of their hot pastries, and I’ll continue my story,” the old man said with a wry smile… and Malak who had been writing, hurried off.
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Post « Jens » Sun Aug 18, 2019 7:05 pm

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