The Assassination
During my addiction to Ultima Online, Strumm belonged to various groups of friends and adventurers and wrote epic poetry and tales of derring-do for many of them. They weren't really epic of course... but they were fun to write, they were part of my immersion in the character, and they jolly well FELT epic at the time I can tell you! Happily (or sadly, depending on your perspective) only 2 or 3 pieces of work remain. The Tavern, The Assassination, and The Notorious Company of Minstrels.
"The Assassination"
Written to spark off a role-playing war between WSK and MAR.
1st February 2000
Aware that communications had recently been received from the Marauding Orcs of Chaos, and having been trained to observe and record all that happens around me, I could not fail but to notice that three new runes had been locked to the floor of the Council Chambers. Of course, the surreptitious marking of runes is standard procedure before any official diplomatic business, but what was unusual on this occasion is the fact that rune-marking is my job - and I had had no part it in marking these!
Thus it was with these facts in mind, and having seen a diplomatic mission to 0RK announced on the WSK public scroll, I resolved to discover for myself what was going on...
Fully provisioned travelling packs are always available for instant re-equipping in times of emergency, and it was one of these I took for myself (along with a large bag of muffins from the kitchens) before settling into one shadowy corner of the Council chambers in order to watch - and perhaps to learn. No sooner had I slipped into a comfortable reverie when a faint rustle and almost imperceptible movement of air caused me to open one eye... just in time to see the familiar silhouette of Strumm materialise out of the gloom.
He padded purposely to his personal locker and removed an odd-shaped bundle wrapped in the coarse grey cloth of a death robe. Reverently, he placed the bundle on the pentagram and unwrapped it to reveal a full set of armour, each piece shimmering with a subtle magical aura. He gazed at it for a moment - as if somehow uncertain at what to do next - then with a nod and a distinct squaring of his shoulders Strumm threw off his battered and patched leather travelling armour and donned the shimmering metal suit. A faintly glowing shield and bright-bladed katana came next... but after the briefest of hesitations his official cape and boots were abandoned in an ugly heap upon the floor in favour of his now familiar dirty-golden garb. The words 'Kal Ort Por' were quietly whispered, and Strumm faded from view.
Startled by his sudden disappearance I ran to the Pentagram, and scanned the runes... 'MAR (inside west gate)', 'MAR (on west platform)', or 'MAR (walk due north from this road)' ? For Strumm to follow his own rules he must have taken the latter route, thereby allowing his hosts to hear and see him approach in peace. The remaining two locations HAD to be inside the 0rc Fort itself (how he had acquired them I didn't dare consider)... but I knew I would have to choose one (and fast) if I was to discover more. I growled the magic words as one might mutter a curse, pulling my hood over my head and equipping my wickedly sharpened poisoned dagger as I did so. Then, as I felt myself being pulled into the target location I crouched low and hid. Luck and the Virtues were with me and I disappeared from sight before I had fully materialised in the half light of a rough wooden platform within the fort.
As I raised a gloved hand to my mouth against the stench of orc, I could hear the lilting strains from a strummed lute approaching steadily from the South East. Momentarily dazzled by the flames and choked by the rancid smoke which curled skywards from a great campfire in the centre of the earthen yard, I squinted and took a moment to adjust my eyes to the shadowy recesses along each wall. Whilst two huge orcs wrestled in plain view beside the leaping flames, I began to pick out several pairs of pig-like eyes blinking from the shadows... and I knew fear for my comrade Strumm.
The hypnotic music grew louder still and as if seized by the same thought as I, the wrestlers clasped each other by the forearm and stalked towards the gate in the Eastern palisade. One by one the eyes watching from the shadows blinked shut so as not to reflect the firelight. The forest grew suddenly quiet, and the orcs glanced nervously at one another... and then a smiling Strumm strode into view, helm held loosely under one arm. A slight bow (his eyes holding theirs all the while) and then, drawing himself up to his full height, Strumm crashed his right hand
and forearm against his armoured chest - half in salute, half in challenge - causing the birds nesting in the trees above to flee in squawking panic.
"Hail - I am Strumm, servant of my Lord Dodd and the Knights of the Winter's Storm. I come in peace to meet with Olog, Chaos Shaman of Azkarath. Please announce me." Perhaps seeing whatever passes for hesitation on the Orcish faces before him, he grinned and continued in less resonant tones; "Quick as you like now lads. I am expected..."
The Orcs parted and gestured between them towards the gate from whence they had come. They barked and grunted all the while in the most threatening of tones (although I cannot myself ever remember hearing Orcish spoken politely), but if this affected Strumm in any way I could not tell for the flames cast flickering shadows across his face as he strode in my direction, his back to the orcs as they followed in step behind him. Each step seemed inordinately loud as his armoured feet trod heavily through the detritus strewn over the dusty yard. He entered the circle of light cast by the yellowing flames and stopped, his eyes searching the shadows as if for an answer to some private question.
As Strumm turned to face the orcs, I could see that his golden cloak no longer obscured the keen bladed katana which hung by his side. The taller of the orcs stepped forward and snarled.... "Whut yuz wunt wit da orcs dum hummie? Yuz come to loose yuz mal? Azkarath nub neeb to deal with yuz stinky humies. Yuz stand in da orc's way! Olog tell yuz to come hereso yuz can be da furst to die! Whereupon the sound of metal against metal flayed my already tattered nerves as more orcs shuffled out from the shadows, weapons drawn, their fangs dripping horribly in the unsteady light. With the whimpering and snarling of hungry orks all around Strumm managed nevertheless to resist the temptation to check behind him or to his sides. .
"Clomp..." growled Olog as he gazed disdainfully upon the lute hanging carelessly from the Bard's belt "...to da death"
"I regret Sir that that is out of the question..." Strumm replied "... as my oath to Dodd and the Knights insists that I fight with honour and fairness at all times". The snarling and derisive laughter whipped cruelly around him until, in a clear steel-edged voice, he continued "...but perhaps if I despatch all of your kind that I see before me now, I shall not be reprimanded too heavily". A deathly silence caused the hairs on the back of my neck to rise, and the deadly poisoned dagger almost slipped from my unresponsive fingers as I watched (in what seemed to be slow motion) Olog raise his weapon and bring it down with killing force... into the place where Strumm had been standing a split second before.
Strumm danced behind that foulest of orcs, and laid his filthy shoulder open even unto the bone, then as Olog swung his mace back towards him, Strumm dropped to the ground, reversed his katana and hammered the hilt cruelly into the fetid and quivering belly before him. His blow had barely connected when a second mace came hissing from behind, and although he managed to turn his head at the last moment, it connected with enough force to send him spinning across that hateful ground. Although he sprang to his feet swiftly enough, the shaking of his head released bright rivulets of blood which escaped his helm and worked their hungry way down the shining metal on his chest. Then with a roar the surrounding orcs seethed in upon the disorientated Strumm, at first faltering as his flashing blade despatched two eager orcs in close succession, and then alas he was submerged beneath a boiling flood. Bloodied weapons rose and fell upon the stricken form for what seemed an eternity, until at last with a bloodcurdling cry a mailed and blood-drenched fist was raised triumphantly aloft clutching in it's grimy fingers the pale bald head of that gentlest of bards. With a satisfied grunt the murdering orc flung the coldly staring head to land with a thud at the feet of Olog who allowed a vicious smile to curl the corners of his slavering mouth before retrieving it and stuffing it carelessly into the discoloured sack hanging from his belt.
"Now da battle wit da hummies begins! Azkarath's promise of da blood is here!"
The ensuing silence seemed deafening, despite the clearly audible rasping of foul orcish breath rising as steam into the cool evening air. An orc with a bleeding face kicked angrily at the corpse of the fallen Strumm, as another hawked loudly and spat the bloody mess upon the ground. Suddenly, a horse whinnied nearby, and the tiredness appeared to drop from their orcish forms as they held their faces to the sky and howled "GRRRUB!!!!!" before scrambling over each other to be outside the fort and first to the kill.
© Strumm 2000
"The Assassination"
Written to spark off a role-playing war between WSK and MAR.
1st February 2000
Aware that communications had recently been received from the Marauding Orcs of Chaos, and having been trained to observe and record all that happens around me, I could not fail but to notice that three new runes had been locked to the floor of the Council Chambers. Of course, the surreptitious marking of runes is standard procedure before any official diplomatic business, but what was unusual on this occasion is the fact that rune-marking is my job - and I had had no part it in marking these!
Thus it was with these facts in mind, and having seen a diplomatic mission to 0RK announced on the WSK public scroll, I resolved to discover for myself what was going on...
Fully provisioned travelling packs are always available for instant re-equipping in times of emergency, and it was one of these I took for myself (along with a large bag of muffins from the kitchens) before settling into one shadowy corner of the Council chambers in order to watch - and perhaps to learn. No sooner had I slipped into a comfortable reverie when a faint rustle and almost imperceptible movement of air caused me to open one eye... just in time to see the familiar silhouette of Strumm materialise out of the gloom.
He padded purposely to his personal locker and removed an odd-shaped bundle wrapped in the coarse grey cloth of a death robe. Reverently, he placed the bundle on the pentagram and unwrapped it to reveal a full set of armour, each piece shimmering with a subtle magical aura. He gazed at it for a moment - as if somehow uncertain at what to do next - then with a nod and a distinct squaring of his shoulders Strumm threw off his battered and patched leather travelling armour and donned the shimmering metal suit. A faintly glowing shield and bright-bladed katana came next... but after the briefest of hesitations his official cape and boots were abandoned in an ugly heap upon the floor in favour of his now familiar dirty-golden garb. The words 'Kal Ort Por' were quietly whispered, and Strumm faded from view.
Startled by his sudden disappearance I ran to the Pentagram, and scanned the runes... 'MAR (inside west gate)', 'MAR (on west platform)', or 'MAR (walk due north from this road)' ? For Strumm to follow his own rules he must have taken the latter route, thereby allowing his hosts to hear and see him approach in peace. The remaining two locations HAD to be inside the 0rc Fort itself (how he had acquired them I didn't dare consider)... but I knew I would have to choose one (and fast) if I was to discover more. I growled the magic words as one might mutter a curse, pulling my hood over my head and equipping my wickedly sharpened poisoned dagger as I did so. Then, as I felt myself being pulled into the target location I crouched low and hid. Luck and the Virtues were with me and I disappeared from sight before I had fully materialised in the half light of a rough wooden platform within the fort.
As I raised a gloved hand to my mouth against the stench of orc, I could hear the lilting strains from a strummed lute approaching steadily from the South East. Momentarily dazzled by the flames and choked by the rancid smoke which curled skywards from a great campfire in the centre of the earthen yard, I squinted and took a moment to adjust my eyes to the shadowy recesses along each wall. Whilst two huge orcs wrestled in plain view beside the leaping flames, I began to pick out several pairs of pig-like eyes blinking from the shadows... and I knew fear for my comrade Strumm.
The hypnotic music grew louder still and as if seized by the same thought as I, the wrestlers clasped each other by the forearm and stalked towards the gate in the Eastern palisade. One by one the eyes watching from the shadows blinked shut so as not to reflect the firelight. The forest grew suddenly quiet, and the orcs glanced nervously at one another... and then a smiling Strumm strode into view, helm held loosely under one arm. A slight bow (his eyes holding theirs all the while) and then, drawing himself up to his full height, Strumm crashed his right hand
and forearm against his armoured chest - half in salute, half in challenge - causing the birds nesting in the trees above to flee in squawking panic.
"Hail - I am Strumm, servant of my Lord Dodd and the Knights of the Winter's Storm. I come in peace to meet with Olog, Chaos Shaman of Azkarath. Please announce me." Perhaps seeing whatever passes for hesitation on the Orcish faces before him, he grinned and continued in less resonant tones; "Quick as you like now lads. I am expected..."
The Orcs parted and gestured between them towards the gate from whence they had come. They barked and grunted all the while in the most threatening of tones (although I cannot myself ever remember hearing Orcish spoken politely), but if this affected Strumm in any way I could not tell for the flames cast flickering shadows across his face as he strode in my direction, his back to the orcs as they followed in step behind him. Each step seemed inordinately loud as his armoured feet trod heavily through the detritus strewn over the dusty yard. He entered the circle of light cast by the yellowing flames and stopped, his eyes searching the shadows as if for an answer to some private question.
As Strumm turned to face the orcs, I could see that his golden cloak no longer obscured the keen bladed katana which hung by his side. The taller of the orcs stepped forward and snarled.... "Whut yuz wunt wit da orcs dum hummie? Yuz come to loose yuz mal? Azkarath nub neeb to deal with yuz stinky humies. Yuz stand in da orc's way! Olog tell yuz to come hereso yuz can be da furst to die! Whereupon the sound of metal against metal flayed my already tattered nerves as more orcs shuffled out from the shadows, weapons drawn, their fangs dripping horribly in the unsteady light. With the whimpering and snarling of hungry orks all around Strumm managed nevertheless to resist the temptation to check behind him or to his sides. .
"Clomp..." growled Olog as he gazed disdainfully upon the lute hanging carelessly from the Bard's belt "...to da death"
"I regret Sir that that is out of the question..." Strumm replied "... as my oath to Dodd and the Knights insists that I fight with honour and fairness at all times". The snarling and derisive laughter whipped cruelly around him until, in a clear steel-edged voice, he continued "...but perhaps if I despatch all of your kind that I see before me now, I shall not be reprimanded too heavily". A deathly silence caused the hairs on the back of my neck to rise, and the deadly poisoned dagger almost slipped from my unresponsive fingers as I watched (in what seemed to be slow motion) Olog raise his weapon and bring it down with killing force... into the place where Strumm had been standing a split second before.
Strumm danced behind that foulest of orcs, and laid his filthy shoulder open even unto the bone, then as Olog swung his mace back towards him, Strumm dropped to the ground, reversed his katana and hammered the hilt cruelly into the fetid and quivering belly before him. His blow had barely connected when a second mace came hissing from behind, and although he managed to turn his head at the last moment, it connected with enough force to send him spinning across that hateful ground. Although he sprang to his feet swiftly enough, the shaking of his head released bright rivulets of blood which escaped his helm and worked their hungry way down the shining metal on his chest. Then with a roar the surrounding orcs seethed in upon the disorientated Strumm, at first faltering as his flashing blade despatched two eager orcs in close succession, and then alas he was submerged beneath a boiling flood. Bloodied weapons rose and fell upon the stricken form for what seemed an eternity, until at last with a bloodcurdling cry a mailed and blood-drenched fist was raised triumphantly aloft clutching in it's grimy fingers the pale bald head of that gentlest of bards. With a satisfied grunt the murdering orc flung the coldly staring head to land with a thud at the feet of Olog who allowed a vicious smile to curl the corners of his slavering mouth before retrieving it and stuffing it carelessly into the discoloured sack hanging from his belt.
"Now da battle wit da hummies begins! Azkarath's promise of da blood is here!"
The ensuing silence seemed deafening, despite the clearly audible rasping of foul orcish breath rising as steam into the cool evening air. An orc with a bleeding face kicked angrily at the corpse of the fallen Strumm, as another hawked loudly and spat the bloody mess upon the ground. Suddenly, a horse whinnied nearby, and the tiredness appeared to drop from their orcish forms as they held their faces to the sky and howled "GRRRUB!!!!!" before scrambling over each other to be outside the fort and first to the kill.
© Strumm 2000
posted by MrFlag at 3:35 pm
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