SIR TERAZZA KYG, A MELANA IN THE LADY OF PALADINS - PREGAME #1
Iormel found that, once curled into a ball at the feet of his tormentors, a beating wasn't so bad. The sticks mostly broke after two or three whacks at his haunches and shoulders; the pack of village boys thankfully avoided his back and head, their motives being more to humiliate than to harm. It worked as it wasn't the beating that hurt but rather the shame he felt walking home.

Even the name calling wasn't so bad. "Sow's $#@!" was the worst of it and he had to restrain the inevitable giggle despite whatever physical abuse he was taking - he was certain showing any sort of light bearing while getting kicked probably wouldn't result in anything less than a more forceful foot.

Terzie had instructions after the last thrashing. "At least stand up and take it. At least then you'll have an excuse for a red face." Easy for her to say! Dym wouldn't poke a girl in the ribs. He wouldn't even hit a girl or the Paladins wouldn't take him.

It was right about then that Iormel noticed the boys' jeers were being thrown at a different target. He felt one, final boot before his attacker, probably Dym, turned to meet some newcomer. Iormel closed his eyes tighter: his shame was to be neverending today.

"Go home and play dollies, Terzie," Dym said. It wasn't a particularly attractive voice, but at fifteen already masculine and commanding.

"I don't keep dollies, Dym." Iormel looked through his croseed elbows and saw the young man begin to nervously glance at his gang. He took a bold step forward: "I said go home, Terzie. And I don't much care if it's dollies or womanswork. Even man has his due and his," pointing his stubby stick towards Iormel, "is to let the Paragons learn how to fight." Iormel was disheartened to hear this, naturally, and a pitiful moan elicited a hasty (and, he felt, accusing) look from his sister. Hierge, one of the other buff young men, turned a delivered a just toe-kick below Iormel's breastbone and his victim writhed in sharp agony.

There was no resounding battle cry, nor any heroic challenge given but Terzie ran forward and tackled Hierge by grabbing him around his hips and throwing all her weight into his groin and midsection. While slight of weight for a nine year-old girl Terzie could gather mass enough. Enough to leave poor Hierge writhing beside Iormel.

Terzie placed her feet beneath her crouch and grabbed the groaning boy's stick - more of a baton at this point. Her gaze was steady and aggressive, though her breathing was erratic. And being off-balance it took her too many steps when she launched herself at Dym. Without a thought, the young man stepped aside and swept his weapon up and into the side of Terzie's neck and face. Iormel was so stunned he fell out of his fetal position.

Terzie raised herself on hands and knees, bidding the scalding tears to abide until later. She had bitten her lip and so spat blood. Dym took a step forward and nearly apologized, but looking again to his gang of four (well, three, since Hierge was still grounded) assumed a lordly stance. All the same, "Some Paragon," he thought as he ruefully rubbed his head.

By this time the grownups had noticed the fight, and being grownups did what grownups do when their children's welfare is at stake.

"Don't expect me to thank you," Iormel hissed at her while they were trailing their mother to the manor.

"I'll do better, next time," Terzie muttered. Iormel pished that one and winced, fingering his ribs lightly. "And I'm sorry about your ribs."

"You shouldn't have drawn blood, Terzie."

"What are you talking about? Hierge's still intact."

"No, the other one. He had blood on his tunic. The hem, right on his leg. He ran around behind you when you capped Hierge - I figured you hit him. He kept frowning at you. I'd never seen him before. He joined in once I was grounded."

"Only the dirt is familiar to you."

"Pig's $#@!!" Though he ran to catch up with his mother rather than face Terzie on this last point.

SIR KARES, LAST SCION OF CLAN SERIAH
The boy Jern listened to the soft footfalls behind him of that afternoon's hero. He remained seated on the hilltop, looking out across the Osel over which Yael could be seen, full and orange and jeering at him. Although he found Yael disquieting, and just a bit frightening, he anitcipated his nightly rapture. He was generally regarded as a strange boy, and the moon seemed to be the only one to take him seriously.

Kares mounted the hill, wading through the waist high feather reed bathed in the night's yellow glow. So as not to spook the child, each foot he placed deliberately and his sword was steadied by hand on pommel. His eyes slid past Jern, cataloging each object. He eased up to a few paces behind the lump which had yet to stir, or rather break from its ever-so-slight rocking. A few moments slipped past while he breathed in the heavy Agrazhar night.

"You've given you mother a scare, boy." he spoke. There was still no acknowledgement of his presence. Kares allowed his shoulders to relax and rolled his neck, though keeping his gaze upon Jern. "Those men who came into your village this morning - they frightened you?"

Jern nodded at the prompt though it was not, strictly speaking, the truth. Jern did not go out of his way to promelgate falsehoods, but his lack of speech lent itself to affirming whatever his interrogator was predisposed to believe. How could he make them understand? It was not the rough men who stalked through the village, it was what lay ahead of them. Ahead of those men was a cold fire that ended their conciousness; ahead of his mother was pain in her bottom and then unendurable shame; ahead of Kares was... Yael mocked him. What lay ahead of the gibbering moon was what lay behind. Eternal and unchanging. Unchangeable.

Kares lifted his eyes from the boy, seemingly aware of the harvest moon for the first time. His eyes narrowed in disgust and turned away dismissively from the bad omen. He spoke sharply, "You should be. You should all be. There is a very noble man across that river, and he wants what he thinks you have. And you mind that because his nobility can get you killed."

Kares had inched ever closer while delivering the speech until he was near enough to grab the boy's arm and hoist him up over his leather. The last son of Dekar Seriah, "Baelsir's Zeal", trounced back down the hill towards the village with Jern raising himself off the big man's shoulder reaching desparately toward the orb, his countenance locked in a silent scream.

I was hoping to post regular updates in the form of narratives but looks like it will be too much for me. Now would be a good time to write but the decision was made to evacuate for the hurricane and responsibly perhaps I made the decision to leave 30 lbs of game books at home.  So to pass the time and satisfy anyone who might have been interested by the narratives thus far...

Malyael is a high fantasy reboot of my first successful Hârn campaign.   There are four player characters: Terzie (a paladin in the service of the Lady of Paladins - using a mix of psionics, rituals, and straight up piety miracles); Gule, a member of the High Guard; and the twins Mya and Poter - Poter being a straight-laced journeyman whitesmith and Mya a n'er-do-well working out of Thay (often non-guilded footpad).  The major NPC is Kares Seriah, last scion of Dekar who was in service of King Balesir during his exile but whose lands (Invarny) were never restored to his heirs. 

In Terzie's flashback it is revealed that she has often been guided by Larani through the Peoni's son (who's name escapes me atm) - in the pregame he is the one with blood on his hem. In 721, she is sent to the Melderyn chapterhouse of the Paladins to fight in the Solori campaign. After witness the unjust battle, during regular play, she comes to the realization that Larani has placed her thus to try and end the conflict. The chances are good, however, that she'll go too far in protecting the barbarians and will be hunted herself as an outlaw. 

Kares is a a childhood friend of Marak Semadain's an reports to him that the Warden of Oselmarch is planning to take measures to secure oselbridge, if not to build a keep. The Earl of Balim is making a play for the Kaldor throne, and will put into motions a plan for a Kaldor port. For this and various other reasons he is planning to press the claim to Chybisa (the Treasure War was really an excuse to obtain a breadbasket for Kaldor and a monopoly over the Genin Trail - this move will upset the CoE plans greatly). It is very likely there will be skirmishes in the marches. as a guardsman Gwuel is a member of this campaign. 

TR 720 saw heavy rains throughout spring and into he autumn, devastating the harvest. By the festival, people were starving and some civil unrest was seen. This was a boon for the environment and wildlife leading to a population explosion among the  Chindra gargun  the next year. There was a swarm into Bujoc territory who in turn moved into Chybisa lands, poaching and stealing crops. Gwuel and Terzie are both drawn into the embassy to the Bujoc, which is Verlid's attempt to diffuse the situation, and ultimately a gargun hunt. This also kicks off a subplot involving the earthmaster sites used by the Bujoc and pagaelin/navehan cult. 

The twins will play out the subplot whereby Kares tries to reclaim his heritage, Marak Semadin uses the three of them in the Chybisan succession, the Council of Eleven puts Clan Legith in a precarious position, and tie Kaldor/Melderyn together. 

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Cheers, Konnel
KoDa RPG Games Site
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