True Stories From The Road

grendel

Well-known member
Jun 13, 2020
270
316
63
True stories from the road


"Travel by cover of night"

"Never kill the whole herd, or risk starving tomorrow"

"Civilization is the flame that devour Nave"

"Use the whole of the wisent"

"Shoot the horse and the rider turn coward"

"Blessed is he who put durable weapons in circulation"


Liber Cloacas, Verba Avunculi Al



I left in the darkest hour of night, as Uncle Al commanded.
The purpose was to hunt wisents for materials in the western steppes.
With no incident I reached the western steppes. Instead of the numerous Wisents herds I expected, there was only houses and strongholds. Even small towns and a keep. But no wisent herds.
Did the people who settled here not know? Or did they not care?

Uncle Al said; Never kill the whole herd, or risk starving tomorrow. Is this what has happened?
For hours I travelled the steppes, no sign of wisents. When I neared Amaruk Nuur I found a single adult wisent and its young one. Remembering The Words, I let it live.
Are the western steppe settlers responsible for this mass murder of wisents?

Finally, on the west side of Amaruk Nurr I found a small herd, struggling to live. I took a few of them and left the rest. Travelling in a eastward halfcircle I saw a single wisent. I allowed it to pass in peace and turned west. A heavily armored bowrider passed me, in pursuit of the single wisent??
Should I protect the single surviving wisent? Great great grandfather Uncle Al would want me to…. No, not today, not prepared for combat and not in the mood. Instead I went for the hillside and prepared to defend. But the rider didn’t come back.
A mistake and Nave would punish me. But I did not know at that time.

Crossing the hills between Meduli Plains and Western Steppe I saw a group of ten mounted men and women. I passed but they pursued. Within a few seconds my horse was down with many arrows in it. Landing on my feet, drew the bow and started shooting in accordance with the Words of Uncle Al.
One rider retreated and some dismounted. I drew the axe and prepared to sell my life at a cost.
“No No, it’s a friend” someone shouted. A platearmor weaing man came running, Vint of Nightmare.

I remembered the name. Brother Mullius had made deal with him. A hard negotiation, instead of robbing us of gear they could not use, we would pay them a steel weapon of choice for every second time they could have robbed us. A good deal, if we made it with our goods. I didn’t, but a deal is a deal. We greeted and I acknowledge the deal. They left. My horse lay dead and I could only carry a fraction of the leather, meat and wool. What a loss, what a waste. Nave is crying.

On foot, I was easy prey for a pack of five wolves. Or so they thought, them being mere animals. While chopping them up a rider named Therawin healed me. He belonged to one of the many vigilante groups patrolling the Tindrem area. He said; what are you doing, this area is dangerous. I explained and he told me that wild horses were nearby, and then he set off to show me. Afraid of being impolite, I followed him, even though I knew he was going toward a horse herd far away, not the nearest one. Maybe he was lost. But Uncle Al always said to treat people with respect and never decline a helping hand.

Finally I came to the herd at the Tindrem orchards. Got a horse and made it back to Tindrem. Covered in wolf blood, a tear in the eye for all the dead wisents and wolves whose carcass lay rotting and unused.

I think, finally I understand what Uncle Al meant when he talked of civilization.

Next time, I will defend the last wisent of the herd.

Edit: journal entry made by Nullius the Cook.
 
Last edited:

grendel

Well-known member
Jun 13, 2020
270
316
63
True stories from the road
Account of Mullius

"The gods are fickle and thirsty"

"The butterfly is responsible for the storm"

"Honor is an illusion and motive are of no consequence, only results matter"

"Serve, fear and appease the primordial gods and the titans"

"Greet all with peace, in the sarducaan way"

"Find and equip champions to serve the gods"

"During dark times, offer sacrifice, during good times, offer sacrifice"

"Always have a 100 percent markup on imports"

"Blessed is he who put durable weapons in circulation"

Liber Cloacas, Verba Avunculi Al




Flakestone prices are soaring, when our stock is diminished, I will have to raise prices. Is someone buying it all and pushing the price up?

Nullius has abandoned his duties and are out “exploring and studying”, I must import in person. This is unacceptable.

In Fabernum the flake price is still right.
Successfully imported flake from Fabernum, I can keep my prices low for a while.

Preparations for the thanksgiving to Nave are proceeding. The champion has delivered the following heads:


Bet
RSR
Oghmir
Ked
Elfik
Cadan
Intro
Harrik
Yellow
SonGoku
KazeLuffy
Sally
Wiinem
Cassian
KillIt
Willhelm
LilYoda
Xavis
Deletion
Gherkin
Xfiveone
DaRkVaulT
AzaadHarizaad
Unkovvn
Uloviorras
Aperson
Annio
Tarath
Dirty
Katja



Exported to Meduli, barely escaped the Cowardly Knights of The Salty Estate. The charged great heal saved me.

Returned to Tindrem, barely escaped a group of brigands outside Meduli. Again, a charged heal allowed my horse to live and me to escape.

In negotiations with a possible champion, if successful this will speed up the preparations.

Account of Mullius Elhazrad, weaponsmith and manager of the Elhazrad Shop
 

grendel

Well-known member
Jun 13, 2020
270
316
63
True stories from the road
Account of Mullius

A rough day

Left Tindrem by the arena gate, immediately saw a mounted chase, not sure what was going on I halted. A mounted archer was chasing his prey. I turned around, but it was to late. Just inside the unguarded gate my horse fell underneath me and I drew the bow. The man training inside the gate fled past me and the mounted brigand rode inside. A few arrows at him and he retreated outside. In the spur of the moment I move forward, hoping his first victim was alive and fighting, but no, the brigand had dismounted and came running sword drawn. I turned and ran.

4 gold and a few minutes later I was out again. Moving through the coloured forest toward the calx I needed. In the thick of the forest a pack of wolves set upon me, followed the wolves, another brigand. There was no escape.

The third attempt succeeded and I had the calx to make another batch of Elhazrad Steel.

Expenses of the day, two 4 gold horses, 6 pickaxes, 1 set of leather armor and one cotton robe. 2 ElhazradSwords.


Pricefixing in the Tindremic Provinces?

Both Meduli, Fabernum and Tindrem prices are rising. Materials for steel production, flakestone and even leather for handles are being sold at prices that does not accommodate the Elhazrad Fair Price Policy.

Especially the flakestone, the most important material for our shop, prices have doubled in a few weeks, supply has more than halved. No more stacks sold at fair prices, now it is sold in small amounts and at a price that amount to stealing.
There is no alternative, we must make our own.

Did some of the bankers buy it all up to resell in small batches at high prices?
Why would anyone do that? Do they not want the Eeta and Plebs to be armed?
Maybe I am paranoid, but recently a banker, @Ibarruri , was spreading some nasty rumors about great great grandmother Monica, our progenitrix.
This Ibarruri of the West Myrland Bank is himself a scion of the famous Lord Ibarruri, who battled against our progenitrix, Monica, in the years leading up to the Irruption.
Is he the person behind this pricefixing, or does the market fluctuations have other causes?
Concerning the rumors spread by Ibarruri, scion of ibarruri, I put a stop to them with a challenge to fight in the arena. Since that, he has been silent.

Time will tell if I am paranoid. For now, we make our own flakestone.

A temporary setback

A long planned exporting expedition to Meduli and Fabernum was postponed.
Building a stronghold is not done in an hour.

The new champion needed help with a building project. Till now he has only delivered two heads, as a sign of goodwill I agreed to help him buy the materials on the market that he and his are denied access to, and I swung a pickaxe during the building. An interesting collective of personalities and absolutely useful contacts for further trade.


The Bounty Hunter

We arrived at the house simultaneously.
“Are you here for the bounty?” the man named Fighter asked. “No, no I am just a merchant, here to trade” I replied.
“Is it you Mullius?” a rough voice from inside the house asked.
“Yes, yes, it is I, and there is another out here, I don’t know him” I answered.
“Is he alone?” the voice behind the door asked.
“yes” I answered.

The door opened and my new champion came out, immediately the man ran up the stairs to him. “we are doing a trade, wait a bit” the man from the house said, and we started trading.

The man named Fighter drew his sword and attacked the man from the house.
In the tight spaces of the house, they exchanged blows and the man ran outside. Both were bleeding.
The sound of spells and the man was healed as three of his companions came running from the hill behind the house.
The man named Fighter held out valiantly against the superior numbers, but he did not claim his bounty and perished in the end.
Next to me stood the mage who had cast the healing spell. He greeted me and I replied “there goes my reputation in Tindrem”.

After the fight, my champion delivered the heads he collected with the Elhazrad Steel made for that purpose:

ShakeNBake
Azyzz
Rudius
Rol
Skitzo
Barados
Oblivion
Georgg
Venomx
Spectrum
Schmuck
Acino
Kreigon
All of these will be offered to Nave as a sacrifice.
As I rode of, one of his companions said: “Bring a larger horsebag next time” and they all laughed.

In Tindrem, I looked for Fighter, expecting that he crawled back to the capitol to heal.

When I found him, he stopped and looked at me with accusations in his eyes. “If you had not healed him, I would have claimed the first bounty” he said. I explained I did not interfere in the fight.

“I was there to trade only, but I do feel somewhat responsible, because they were only there to meet with me, I would like to offer you some sort of compensation” I said and gave him a purse of gold and a heavy steel blade of the finest quality. Certainly better than what he wielded during the fight. He nodded and said “thank you”.

I wish I could have told what the trade was about, he would surely have sympathised, but during the preparation for the Thanksgiving to Nave, I cannot reveal my involvement with any of the champions of the gods. Only at the ceremony will the champions and other interested and devout parties, know each other……. And bloodshed will surely follow. All is sacrifice.

Account of Mullius, manager of the Elhazrad Shop
 
Last edited:

grendel

Well-known member
Jun 13, 2020
270
316
63
True Stories From The Road
Account of Mullius


Do not investigate the Conflux

Do not chase the dragon

Leave the mysteries alone, appease the gods with blood, live long and prosper

Blessed is he who put durable weapons in circulation.

Liber Cloacas, Verba Avunculi Al




Market issues

Raw material prices continue to be elevated, but now, at least they seem to have settled and the pervert rise has stopped. I fear how The Shop will fare when I am forced to adjust our prices. Do I work in discord with The Words and import at a lower profit? Do I raise prices in accordance with The Words and risk losing customers? A horrible dilemma!

At least Nullius has agreed to search for a suitable site for the Thanksgiving to Nave, and I can commit to The Shop and to mining for steel.


Another building project

Again I find myself swinging a pickaxe in another mans building project. Its hard work, not for a merchant like me, but alas this is my sacrifice.

A third champion has emerged, my old teacher in the way of sword fighting, not that he succeeded in teaching me much, I fear I am beyond teaching. Yet, he will certainly deliver a good amount of heads for the ceremony. Finally a good turn, despite the hard work at his house.

In just a days work, he delivered the following heads:

Sylph
Gothe
Koakore
Somebody
Sangnamja
Imcoward
Zycum
Apollyonn
Momoshiki
Zolaa
Dominatrix
AngryAussie

This is fine work, as expected from a renowned swordsman as him.


Setting up a satellite shop

I left at daybreak, in discord with The Words. The new champion offered me stacks of flake at the old and fair prices, in Morin Khur. What a great opportunity, to set up a shop in the old khurite capital. Nervous about leaving during daylight, I had to. Unknown roads in darkness lead to disaster. That should have been in The Words, maybe it was, we have only fragments. Yet, I was nervous.

At the arena gate, arrows flew and my horse reared in pain. I quickly dismounted ready to fight, but no more arrows. Instead a coarse voice cried out “Oh Mullius, eh hehe, sorry about that”, it was the second champion and one of his crew. Slightly unsettled I replied “Nothing that cant be healed” and tended to my horse. I saw a rider coming down the road and decided to make a quick exit, “I’m off to MK” I said and rode off. As the two men set upon the rider I heard him cry “oh you motherfuckers”.

A bit uneasy about that encounter I continued and made it to Kranesh Bridge before noon. The firmwood forest beyond that bridge are scary, there are forest trolls in it. Scared of every shadow I made it to the plains and crossed the steppes. Without incident I arrived at Morin Khur before sunset and set up shop.

Watching the old statue of Gereed defeating the dragon, I had opportunity to contemplate The Words once again. I am happy that my ambitions only amount to selling arms and appeasing the gods as I know best.

Account of Mullius, manager of the Elhazrad Shop
 

grendel

Well-known member
Jun 13, 2020
270
316
63
The Elhazrad Shop can be contacted on Discord: Grendel#9336, or by message on these forums.

On the walls of Tindrem, Fabernum, Meduli, Hyllspeia, Kranesh, Bakti and Morin Khur
1652450286831.jpeg
 
Last edited:

grendel

Well-known member
Jun 13, 2020
270
316
63
True stories from the road
Account of Mullius


Your progenitrix abandoned you before the Irruption, her legacy is tainted.
Blessed is he who put durable weapons in circulation.

Liber Cloacas, Verba Avunculi Al




These are dark times indeed; markets and profits are unstable.
Raw material imports are at an all-time low, production likewise.
The Morin Khur satellite shop is turning a profit, but I am amazed that the khurites do not buy our superior discount poleswords. I figured that the low sales in the provinces were due to culture, but in Morin Khur, amazing. Customers simply do not know what is in their best interest. It is the same with the Elhazrad Swords, superior and fast, and sitting on the shelf. Only a few dedicated 1h sword fighters request them.
On the return journey, I was waylaid and robbed of all the barley I brought from the east. Dark times.

The third recruited champion, my old trainer, has not repaid his debt in full. I will give him till the ceremony to pay. Then I hire a collector, if I can find anyone able to challenge that man.

I lost a transport of sacrificial heads to the Fabernum road robbers. No matter, I already have more than one hundred stored in Tindrem and Nave will punish the robbers in her own time.
Almost everything is ready for the ceremony, I just need to hire protection and some riders willing to transport the one hundred heads.
I trust my profits will rise again, after the ceremony.
Dark times.

Disaster.
A wild-eyed giant of a woman approached me in the bank, stinking of urine and cheap wine, with a sticky hand she grabbed mine and gave the Elhazrad family handshake.
I am you aunt.
Her breath was nauseating and the handshake almost broke my hand. Speechless I stared at her and she proceeded to, in the most indecent manner, to bare her tattooed shoulder revealing the Elhazrad family caste mark.

Call me Auntie, I’m your elder and will take control of the Shop. Where is the gold?

I managed to get her out of the bank, to avoid a scene. I gave her a small purse with gold and a large amount of beer. She seemed content and stumbled of in a haze, mumbling something about destroying the caste system and looking for something in the sewers.

The mad progenitrix’s matrilineal line has survived.

Dark times indeed.
 

grendel

Well-known member
Jun 13, 2020
270
316
63
True Stories from the Road
Account of Monica
An encounter on the steppes

"Step away from the horse, Sir, step away from the horse"
"Do you know why we pulled you over?"
*in a drunken voice* "No"
"You were veering from side to side"
"So, I am shitfaced, what?"
"Yes thats why, now you...."
"Here have this beer"
"oh a bribe, yes that will do, I'l just share with my fellow"
"See ya officers"
 

grendel

Well-known member
Jun 13, 2020
270
316
63
True Stories from the Road
Account of Monica

Understanding Risar culture is not easy, but in my experience both their culture and language are better understood if you are completely shitfaced on cheap rye beer.
I started the day with a case of beer, as yesterdays hangover reded I went to the sewers to look for the risar group I knew to be there.
Running down the stairs I pissed myself, not unusual for me when descending too fast.

They were in the first room, 5 of them. All of them large and muscular, one in particular stood out, larger and broader than the rest. I tried to greet him: “Grrr..arrghrrrg rrrrirgh beer good arrg” The giant took my offering and swallowed it in one gulp and made a face I presume was a smile. With a satisfied “grrrr” he rejoined the game his comrades were playing. They stood in a circle and threw a smaller thursar between them. All were laughing. Sometimes they pushed him, sometimes they cut him. I aint sure of the rules, but it seemed like the purpose was to keep the halfbreed conscious for as long as possible.

I watched for a long time. Had another case of rye beer and pissed myself again. Much to their credit, the risars did not seem to mind. The halfbreed had fun too, even though he were not laughing. He kept coming back. Again and again, if he did not enjoy it, why did he keep coming back?
They were a loveable bunch, not all were risar or thursar. A small oghmir and a skinny alvarin was among them. I just love multicultural gatherings like these.
We were all having some beer when the largest risar grunted “KoTo grrraaaargh”

We went deeper in the sewers and yes indeed there were KoTo there. Completely shitfaced I dared to try the game, I chose to call it Toss the Halfbreed. The two Koto didn’t last long, and the faces of the group clearly showed that they were not satisfied with that game. Deeper in the sewers they found another KoTo to play with, this one clad in steel from top to toe. He lasted for a long time and everyone had much fun tossing him around. We had some more beer and I shit myself.

I was out of beer and went up to the surface to get more.

On the way back, at the sewer entrance, was a larger group of KoTo. In my intoxicated stance I tried to tell them about the fun we had had with their comrades. We drank a beer and agreed it was all fun and games.

They all ran down the sewers, I ran after, excited to play again. They were far ahead of me, I had to piss. Down at the first corridor the KoTo waited, when they saw me they all drew their swords and cut me down within a few seconds. I didn’t even have time to tell them that that’s not how the game of Toss the Halfbreed Is played. Maybe KoTo play differently, I should study them next.