Beneath the Shadow of the Five Peaks - Chapter 1
Trouble in Newcayne
PART I: THE FORLORN GATE
Grey sheets of rain turned the dirt of the winding road into Newcayne into a veritable river of mud. Ever since debarking at the conspicuously abandoned dock on the Black River, south of the frontier settlement, torrential rains had dogged the steps of the Khinasi who had traveled across half of the known world from the arid plains of their origin. Under command of Hamnarabi and Eliza of the House of El-Arrasi, siblings to each other and distant cousins to the ruling Prince, the caravan was bearing the final portion of the dowry promised by Crown Prince Gerad to Aemon Lansing, the local lord, for the hand of his daughter Kiya in marriage. Hired as a guard for the caravan in its long journey was A’sharad, a half orc monk seeking the truth of his heritage and identity beyond the sheltered walls of the monastery he was raised in as an orphan. Rain was not completely unknown in the sun baked lands of their home, but it seemed that the green hills they had found themselves in were veritably plagued with precipitation. Though exhausted and soaked to the bone, a welcome sense of relief flooded through them as the muddy road from the dock finally cleared the tree line and revealed the town of Newcayne before them.
The log and thatch buildings sat huddled around the base of a large rock outcropping, at the top of which stood the ancient timber fortress erected here to guard against goblin raids out of the neighboring Five Peaks during the northward expansion of the Anuirean Empire hundreds of years before. Like the people of Newcayne, the buildings here were weather worn and built to last; they had endured the harsh environment and the depredations of hostile forces in equal measure. There was growing evidence that all was not well in Newcayne, however. The unguarded dock and the ill kept road from it were the first signs of trouble; signs which now included a palisade in desperate need of repair, woefully undermanned by old men or young boys in poorly mended armor. As the caravan approached the front gates they were delayed by a greying watchman who demanded that they hold until his commander arrived to question them. Another figure loomed beside the gate, waiting impatiently for the watch commander’s arrival. Heavily armored, his shield brightly emblazoned with the sword and lightning of the war god Cuiraécen, the cleric Isael had traveled north from his temple in the imperial city of Anuire on his first pilgrimage. It was the duty of his faith to represent their fiery god wherever sword clashed with shield, and word had spread south of the hostilities plaguing Newcayne.
Before the commander could arrive to permit the bedraggled travelers entry, the peal of a horn blared from the woods. Driven by a hulking hobgoblin, a dozen goblins charged towards the gate hooting and clashing spears against their wooden shields. Four more goblins, flanking the savage hob, began to fire barbed arrows towards the caravan in a show of force. Panic overtook the wall guards, who immediately withdrew behind the palisade and began to heave the wooden gates shut. Hamnarabi, trained in the ways of command, quickly spurred his horse between the doors of the gate and commanded that they bring the caravan within the walls before securing the village. His heritage and training lent his voice an aura of command which stopped the inexperienced militia in their tracks. Isael, relishing the opportunity at long last to prove his commitment to his faith, quickly took position between the caravan and goblins. He called for the caravan guards to form a shield wall with him against the closing enemy front and smiled as the distance between the ranks closed. Eliza and A’Sharrad held back, preparing spells and bow respectively to aid in the defense.
Hamnarabi, satisfied that the caravan he was charged to protect would be safe, spurred his mount back down the road in an effort to circle around the goblin flank and single out their leader. The goblins, realizing their prey was not easily startled into submission, began to visibly slow their advance as doubt crept into their hearts. They had rushed the charge in their reckless greed over the caravan’s contents. And now they wondered if they had arrived too late to do more than die at the outskirts of the cursed human settlements. The harsh threats of their commander were barely enough to contain their rising panic. The gap between the shield wall and the goblins rapidly diminished, while the goblin missiles feel harmlessly against the defender’s shields the flash of azure magic, arcing out from behind the line, struck one goblin dead and crippled another as Eliza called upon the arcane. A’Sharad, having never been forced to employ his prodigious strength in the heat of true battle before, over pulled his bow and snapped its string. Throwing it aside he drew the enigmatic nine-ring broadsword from his back, this matter would have to be settled in person.
When the two sides finally met in a clash of shields the conflict was swift and brutal. These goblins understood little of tactical war craft; they were used to fighting poorly armed woodsmen, not trained soldiers and guards. Rallying behind Isael the Khinasi guards pushed their attackers back step by step as flashes of brilliant light streaked from Eliza’s hands and smote the rabble before them. Hamnarabi, swinging back towards the flank of the goblins, called upon his peerless cavalry skills and struck upon the flank of the goblin archers, spearing one and scattering the others as he drove his mount towards to hobgoblin. A shadow passed over Isael as A’Sharad acrobatically leapt into the fray, his sword ringing ominously as it arced through the monk’s foes. The goblins, already hesitant, broke formation and began a hasty retreat towards the wood line just as Hamnarabi brought the snarling hobgoblin low with a thrust through its black heart. Isael, unsatisfied that he had slain the due share of the war god’s opponents, took chase and struck down two more goblins before the remainder fled from his reach. The defense had been decisive, and would surely stand as a warning against others who would attempt such a reckless assault.
Arriving as the last of the goblins disappeared back into the safety of the darkened woods the militia commander, a gruff dwarf known as Warden Ghant, pushed the gates back open and demanded an explanation. After being debriefed to his liking, he tersely thanked his town’s saviors and apologized for his tardiness. He invited them up to the keep, where the Lady Kiya could properly welcome her kin and extend her gratitude for their efforts on behalf of the settlement. As he led the caravan through the drenched streets of Newcayne shadowed faces watched with guarded caution from doorways and windows the strange procession. Few had ever seen a Khinasi apart from their lord’s bride, and a retinue such as this was unheard of. Finally arriving atop the rocky knoll upon which Fort Newcayne had been built, they were brought within to the welcoming heat of a roaring fire pit. Seated at the far end of the main hall a young Khinasi woman with a veiled face rose in greeting, extending her arms to either side in a gesture of good will.
PART II: THE FALLEN LORD
The Lady Kiya of the House of El-Arrasi, wife of Lord Aemon Lansing presided over a brief ceremony wherein she thanked her town’s defenders, saluting their bravery and quick thinking. Sanctuary within the walls of Newcayne, and warm beds at the inn, were offered and brief introductions were made. With the proper forms of etiquette satisfied she warmly greeted her cousins, Eliza and Hamnarabi. They were the first familiar faces she had seen in the three years since she left her birthplace to join Aemon in this remote place. Over mulled wine and a hearty meal she explained to the others assembled how she had come to be betrothed to an Anuirean noble, how his father had sought a union outside of the typical arrangements of the Western Coast which perpetuated a cycle of political dependency and intrigue. The Lansing family was more concerned with the wellbeing of their people and their duty to guard against the Five Peaks then they were with the struggles for power in the south. The promised gold from Kiya’s dowry, in exchange for a magical blade originally belonging to the founder of the House, would help to keep the family removed from dependency on the throne and allow them to bolster their settlement’s defenses. Kiya’s father had many daughters, and an alliance with an ancient Anuirean line would serve his trading interests in the West.
At first the union had been a happy one, Kiya quickly coming to love her husband once she saw his devotion his people. She bore him a son and heir, and their future seemed a bright one. This happiness would be short lived, however. Another village to the north sent word that a strange plague had swept through the town, one which was surely the mark of the demonic awnsegh known as The Apocalypse. Aemon rallied a relief force from the finest knights and warriors he had under his command and led a caravan with stocks of food and medicine north. It would prove futile, the village was already doomed and the beast had not yet left. It turned its dark plague upon the company under Aemon’s command. Only the young lord, growing weaker by the day, made it back to Newcayne. The nature of The Apocalypse’s affliction did not allow the plague to spread once Aemon had left its presence, but it did not stop the ravages of the disease once it had taken seed within the body. To add further to the tragedy of the Lansing family, a raiding force of goblins poured down from the Five Peaks one word of Newcayne’s troubles reached their spies. They burned the family manor, and have laid siege to the countryside ever since. Aemon appealed to the Count of Lindholme and the Queen of Talinie for help, but, with their forces committed to support of a looming war in the south over the vacant throne of the empire, there would be no assistance for some time.
Hamnarabi and Eliza had been sworn to return to Ariya with the promised blade, and now understood why both it and word of the Lady Kiya had not come back to their uncle for so long. They were bound by oath to retrieve it, but promised to assist Kiya in dealing with the goblin threat once they knew the blade was safe. A’Sharrad and Isael quickly volunteered their aid, each hoping to prove their worth and aid the province in its time of need. When questioned about the whereabouts of the blade, Lady Kiya shook her head. The blade was kept in the family’s crypt beneath the manor, and no one had yet returned from it since the dark day of its burning. If they were bound to retrieve the blade, they would have to chance the dangers of the manor to retrieve it. The journey was only a day along an old road leading north from the town, but the forest had become wild and goblin ambushes were sure to be lay in wait if they took the road. Warden Ghant could provide them with a map which might help to guide them through the back country, but the terrain here grew difficult so close to the mountains. He recommended they seek out the assistance of a half-elf ranger who had taken up residence at the local inn. She cared little for the affairs of the settlement, but had hinted that she was here for some reason she would not divulge to Ghant. Kiya begged the assemblage to forgive her, but her husband was near death on his bed within the fortress, and she dare not leave his side for too long.
PART III: THE THING IN THE GORGE
Departing the keep, the group made its way to the Forest’s Edge, the three story timber and thatch inn which dominated the center of the town. Therein they were greeted by the inn’s proprietors, Henly and Thea Feld, who had received word that their lodging would be at the expense of the Lansing family. When questioned about the mysterious ranger who taken residence, they shrugged and pointed to a shadowed corner at the end of the tavern. A slight, barely discernable figure could be made out within the gloom; when the party approached her, Saiya Ayat leaned forward and cast a piercing gaze at them. When questioned about her ability to guide them to the manor she scoffed. She could lead them anywhere they needed to go, but she had no care for the fate of the Lansings. These had been elven forests once, and she had not travelled from her home in Tuarhievel to keep these usurpers safe upon their hill. She had come here in search of a very special creature, and remarked that should the party assist her in bringing the beast low she would lead them to the manor free of charge. If they refused, she would still lead them; but only for a very lofty price.
Seeing no real choice, the small band agreed. After a few brief but rejuvenating hours of rest at the inn, Saiya led them out of the main gates before dawn, using the grey mist from the mountains to cover their departure. She spurned the roads, and immediately took them by hunting paths and deer trails deep into the heart of the woods. It was torturous travel for those unaccustomed to frontier travel, and while Saiya tracked the creature a full day passed. As night fell and camp was struck Saiya described the beast they were hunting. It was boar of immense size and ferocity which was said to be the offspring of the Great Boar of Thuringode, who had been tainted by the blood of a dark god after slaying on of its scions. The creature was an abomination to the natural order, and was the ideal prey for a skilled huntress dedicated to the balance of the living world. They were near its den, and in the morning they would face the creature and destroy it utterly. A’Sharrad was curious of how Saiya had been raised, as she was also of mixed ancestry, and pressed her for details of her upbringing. She discouraged such small talk, opting instead to take the first watch while the party rested. She needed to focus on the task at hand.
The morning sun was muted by dense clouds hanging over the forest, casting a grey pall which increased the sense of foreboding that marked the party’s departure from camp. As Saiya led them inexorably closer to the boar’s den sign of the beast began to appear more frequently. Young trees had been uprooted and gouged deeply by immense tusks, undergrowth which had been trampled flat, a musky stench of questionable origin hung thick about everything. Soon, they had arrived. The boar had taken refuge at the far end of a deep gorge, carved from the thick granite by a river which had gone dry decades before. It cut through the hills and gradually narrowed, the stench of decaying flesh filled the air as they passed the half eaten remains of countless game which had been unable to escape the ravenous abomination’s hunger. Watching from above on the ledge of the gorge, Saiya signaled with a low whistle that they were near, slowly notching an arrow to her bow. At the end of the gorge a shallow cave sat low in the rock wall, hewn from the stone by thousands of years of water pouring down from above. And from within this cave, a guttural grunting could be heard.
As the beast lumbered into view it became evident why Saiya thought it to be spawned of a demon. It was covered in coarse hide, mottled and grey, with sparse tufts of wiry hair. Hulking shoulders the height of a war horse, and powerful legs which ended in cloven hooves. Its maw was wide, tusks as long as daggers thrust up beside jagged rows of yellowing teeth which could grind the bones of an ox into dust. Set deep within hollow sockets of its skull a pair of small, baleful black eyes seethed with rage. It regarded its hunters but for a second before lowering its head and launching into a reckless charge. A howl of primal hunger issued from the boar’s throat in anticipation of the kill, and the feast which would follow. Saiya lodged three arrows into its leathery back while it came forward, but the beast took no notice.
Isael, A’Sharad, and Hamnarabi had advanced abreast in order to keep the creature from fleeing (a tactic which now seemed excessive given its violent disposition), and the boar set his sights upon A’Sharad. The monk’s years of diligent training served him well as he leapt gracefully from the boar’s path, and with a thunderous crash it slammed into a rotten tree stump. Hamnarabi spurred his mount to take advantage of their foe’s disorientation after its thunderous charge, thrusting his spear into its hindquarters. The beast spun, only to be caught full in the face by a flare of magical energy which had shot from between Eliza’s hands. Isael, crying out in the name of his god lashed out with his sword, but found the beast’s hide too thick for his steel to cut. Sensing a need to keep the boar stunned A’Sharad called upon his mastery of internal energies to strike at a nerve point behind the ear, rendering the boar paralyzed while Hamnarabi pierced its leg again in hopes of crippling the behemoth. Isael, sensing the moment of opportunity, braced the flat of his blade upon the edge of his shield to aid his aim as he thrust the full length of his weapon through the boar’s eye and deep into its brain. With a last shiver of defiance against the encroaching grip of death, the beast slumped to its side and died. The engagement may have been brief, but it was obvious that it surely would have turned against the party had they not skillfully worked together.
Camp was struck, and the party prepared themselves for the next day’s journey. There was still the matter of the Lansing sword, waiting for them somewhere in the crypt beneath the ruins of the manor…