Iron Heroes 5 - Beyond the Western Mountains

[Lord Zordran]

Welcome to the next (and probably last) chapter in the unfolding Iron Heroes saga. As with my previous Iron Heroes games this thread will be used to post gazetteers and background information about the world. Players are encouraged to provide character descriptions, background posts, and in-character recaps and musings here. Such efforts will, of course, be rewarded with the ever popular brownie points. The game currently has five players and as such there are no open slots available at this stage. If and when this changes I will let people know.

Characters will start at level 10. I'll post details about character creation (house rules, etc.) later on. The timeline will have advanced about 80-100 years from Iron Heroes - Rise of the Raven Queen.

[A Moose]

Name - Samael Abarai

Age - Twenties? Difficult to pin down.

Birthplace - Keep (The Five Cities)

It's difficult to say for sure what one notices first about Sam; probably the eyes, a feral golden colour; maybe the skin, black as obsidian or charcoal; or possibly just the aura that seems to surround him, a sense of separation and innate strangeness, that seems to cause many humans (and most animals) to shy away or distrust him at first glance, despite his reasonable looks (if you can get past the skin and the eyes). Second glances, on the occasions that they are given, find him to be a relatively peaceable man, not prone to fits of passion, and with an amicable streak that - on the occasions he has been asked - he attributes (with some sadness) to an old friend and mentor, a Stillwater healer by the name of Griffith, with whom he travelled for many years.

One of the items he still carries with him, hanging off the saddle of his malevolent warrior steed Buttercup (Sam didn't name him), is a full face mask, made of a form-fitting black leather, the features of which are smooth and unemotional. He does not apparently wear it. The only other possessions he seems to own are his two suits of armour, one light and sturdy chainmail, the other (worn over this, when he is expecting trouble) is a suit of exquisitely fashioned (yet unadorned) suit of heavy plate, a long two-handed sword that appears to resemble a Sunlander sword in design (but with a much wider, thicker blade to take advantage of his strength) [See link - http://photos.swordsfromspain.com/marto ... ll/582.jpg - just make it larger, and take away the finger protector], a number of throwing axes and other sundry - less important - articles.

The last things people notice when they've spent some time around him is his somewhat unexpected strength. His body is well-shaped and toned, but it is a slim, lithely muscled figure, only standing about 5'11" tall. To those who notice such things, there is also something a little strange about his gait; it often seems just a little slow or uncomfortable for a man of his proportions... and finally, he doesn't seem to scar easily, which makes the one on his chest (when and if people see it), two inches wide and directly over his heart, stand out all the more. In other words, there appears to be more to him than meets the eye - but considering what does meet the eye, this probably doesn't come as much of a surprise.

[Lord Zordran]

I hope everyone enjoyed the first session of Iron Heroes 5, despite the feverish nature of it all. Saturday should see us have a proper session, which will pick up right where we left it. I will try and post an update of the Swordlands Gazetteer at some stage. As always any background posts are greatly appreciated and will be rewarded with brownie points. Adam has gotten us off to a good start, so he can happily have two brownie points for his post.

[Nate_kin]

Traipsing over a bloody mountain in the dead of night, with creatures that rip the bones out of someone’s body as an recreational hobby leaving only the skin as a memento. What a load of bum-fuckery. I shouldn’t be here. It’s not like I’d even be able to heal Luke, even if we had got here sooner. Every night is another night wasted. –Sigh- Oh well, there have been some interesting things about it… not that Luke being eviscerated wasn’t interesting… Poor Luke… When we return to camp one of use should go tell his whore… or at least the one he visited most often…or perhaps just the one he visited last...Oh I don't know... But skinless Luke aside; very interesting. It almost makes it worthwhile being out of my warm bed… though it doesn’t make the aching pain any better. Better check on it one more time… ah good, nothing has changed much. But yes… What was I thinking about… ah yes tonight’s acts of heroic bull-headed bum-fuckery. Turns out Darky is a much better fighter than I figured… and even the fop seems to do well when not carrying my baggage. The pale one can toss a dagger… no doubts there. But the blind rage of that dumb aurochs…. That was impressive. Stupid…but undoubtedly impressive. Glad I didn’t have to do anything, that would have saddened me… they weren’t really a threat… lets hope everything new he encounters isn’t a challenge. Perhaps I should confront him with an ancient riddle… no… best not poke the beast. Especially not a beast that could knock your head from your body. Argh… there it is again.. the pain… definitely time to sleep. But it was nice to be back on the road again. Oh look some of the others are bedding down. Better add an extra groan just in case. There we go they’re all looking at the poor old man. No watch for me tonight. Heh- ah there’s the fop, look at him standing hands on hips, I suppose he thinks that angle makes him look heroic, but actually… yep… looks like he’s relieving himself in the direction of the horses… Poor Murder.. she’s seen enough tonight. Ah sleep….you wonderous thing, it’s nice to be back on the road again for a while… makes sleep an actual rest…. Not just an activity that might be as fatal as the road… Oh well.. Time will tell….Stupid, mountain man… poor Luke, poor Gargoyles… poor…me.

[Lord Zordran]

Very entertaining post, Jamie. You can have two brownie points, too

[A Moose]

And a few pictures...

Samael (just add on the yellow eyes, otherwise it's a pretty good one, even with the aura palpably visible!) - http://www.core-overload.com/samael.jpg

Ideas of his heavier armour (first in the bright light of day, minus helmet; second after heavy battle, later on at night - just imagine helmet is more like an emotionless human face and not the evil skeletal visage in the pic) - http://www.core-overload.com/armour1.jpg - http://www.core-overload.com/armour2.jpg

Lastly, his steed Buttercup (or rather, a few inspiration pics) - http://www.core-overload.com/buttercup1.jpg - http://www.core-overload.com/buttercup2.jpg - http://www.core-overload.com/buttercup3.jpg - http://www.core-overload.com/buttercup4.jpg - http://www.core-overload.com/buttercup5.jpg - http://www.core-overload.com/buttercup6.jpg - http://www.core-overload.com/buttercup7.jpg

-- Adam

[Nate_kin]

Emo

[Lord Zordran]

Oh man, those horse pictures are hilarious. I am very tempted now to turn Buttercup into a winged monstrosity with laserbeam eyes I also like the picture of Samael. How long did it take you to find it? You can have another brownie point for the post, and an extra brownie point for making me lmao with those horses

[Higgins Von Higgings]

Character Name: Gordon Dragonbane

Character Class: Armiger

Character Description:
Gordon is just less than 6ft tall, with a strong healthy build; he has long blond hair, with a trimmed beard and blue eyes. He wears an expensive full set of plate mail, a gift from his father the Lord Dragonbane, he was born a noble but raised and trained as a warrior as his father was before him.

Character Bio:
Gordon was born among the ruling elite of Montorah, son to Lord Augustus Dragonbane a mildly famous ex-adventurer who had settled down to become a merchant, manage the trading house and raise a family, the House of Dragonbane is not among the ruling lords of Montorah, nor has it any connections to the line of Kings, instead the house represents one of the handful of new powerful middle class trading groups who have grown in power since the demise of the royal line of Montorah.

Gordon has a younger brother and two younger sisters; he used to have an older brother who died whilst travelling lands to the south some years before. Gordon is now heir to the family name and his father has decreed that if he should inherit the household upon his death his son must first go into the world and prove himself worthy. So Gordon has given up the comfortable lifestyle of a Montorah’n noble to travel the lands in search of glory.

He was trained a warrior by his fathers creed, and raised on his mothers fireside tales of old heroes like the King Loki, the barbarian Nathanial and others that imbued in him a strong code of honour and conduct from an early age, he has vowed to venture into the Swordlands and win honour for his House and Name.

After several years of travel he has become experienced in martial prowess however he is still slightly naive and stunned by the wonders of the world. He is driven by his desire to prove his worth and earn his families name.

An example of what he looks like,
http://pulyx.deviantart.com/art/Prince- ... l-54113135

k

[Higgins Von Higgings]

Journal of Gordon DragonBane

Day 312

I have continued through the mountains with the mercenary company I mentioned in my last entry but have decided to turn down their offer of recruitment. Though I shall continue to take jobs from the company commander I don’t feel like being subject to a mercenary’s life where I may be ordered to do dishonest work.

At the end of today’s march we came upon a small frontier town, we’ve been told this is where we will stay whilst we continue prospecting these mountains.

It is cold here.

Day 313

I have volunteered for a mission to a newly discovered nearby valley to find a missing patrol, though my new companions seem a bit... unconventional it is important that we make haste, lives are at risk, I shall write more later, for now we must ride fast to their aid!



We made good time toward the last known location of the patrol and neared our target when we encountered an unnatural sight; there in the middle of the path were the skinned remains of a man, a man who one of my new companions has identified as Luke, a mercenary of the missing patrol.

The man’s remains were completely devoid of bone and internals, just his skin and clothes remained, as if this wasn’t enough disturbingly bloody footprints led away from the corpse into the woodland, which our tracker said the man had been running from before he met his end. We decided to burn his remains out of proper respect but when they were lighted they burned with an unnatural colour that unsettled us all. I wonder if my father ever had to face such nightmares.

We continued our trek but were soon interrupted by a pack of flying beasts with stone-like skin, that from my readings I believe are known as Gargoyles. Though they were making aggressive motions towards us it was one of my companions, Verog the barbarian, who began the fight and charged them, much to the old man Dios’s dismay (he believed they were not hostile and just posturing). Nevertheless we defeated the vile creatures and carried on for some time until we made camp for the night. Hopefully tomorrow will find us more favourable results.

I find I have been remiss in my writings and not spoken of my valiant... err capable companions of my party.

I have found myself in a party of five, some members of the mercenary company and some freelancers like myself who have been hired due to their availability. Largest among my companions is the barbarian Verog, though quite a hardy fellow he is somewhat lacking in tact or apparently even common sense, during the battle with the Gargoyles, he lost control and began attacking his fellow party members. Though he later regained his sense’s he had no memory of his temporary treachery. I fear I must watch him lest he lose his mind again.

There are also two roguish fellows known as Samael and Visteer, both of whom have rather... odd complexions that it would not be polite to recount here. Samael, despite his cursed skin, seems quite sociable whereas I find Visteer’s acrobatics annoying.

Last of the party is an old man named Dios. I must admit I don’t understand why he has joined us on this venture. He is far too old for this sort of mission and the rigours of travel, his body is crippled with age, he is constantly complaining and bickering and his personality would be charitably described as “bitter”. The man professes to be a healer, but his credentials are not so obviously fake, but blatantly so. I admit I do not look forward to the time I am wounded and find myself at his tender enfeebled mercy. He also smells something awful.

Well I must rest now, it is late and we will likely rise early the next day to continue our search for the missing patrol, I hope the fate of the mercenary Luke does not foreshadow the fates of his companions.

Gordon of House DragonBane

[Lord Zordran]

Nice work on the background and the character post, Rich. You can have a total of three brownie points (two for the background, one for the journal entry). It'll be interesting to see how long Gordon of House Dragonbane lasts among such strange and disturbing travelling companions

And just so you all know how your companions' names are spelled:

Varog Dakar (Nick)
Samael Abarai (Adam)
Visteen Krane (JC)
Dios (Jamie)
Gordon Dragonbane (Rich)

[BlackSheep]

Ten, Fifteen, Twenty men smacked by a huge hammer, and that's when Varog stopped counting. However his kill count didn't really help him see that axe coming from behind. He did turn around, but it was too late. If he had been a bit faster he might have been able to block the attack, but there's no reason to deal in ifs now. The axe nearly cut him in half. It went from the right shoulder right down to the hip, cutting through the rip cage and spine. Only the skin on his back was holding both parts of his body together. This was a good way to die. He would be remembered by his people for generations to come.

From the very start he was considered special among his people. He was taller, stronger and more furious then the rest, which was a highly valued attribute among his people. Because only by giving in to the fury one could experience the freedom needed to become a true and fearless master of combat. Emotions and reason are only hindrances. They make you stop and think instead of act, and you win fights by acting not thinking. Being a good fighter was an essential survival skill in the Western Mountains, because the other clans and the beasts certainly wouldn't go easy on you.

It was after Varog got struck by the axe, while falling to the ground that he heard the voice for the first time: “Finally, you are mine.” A strange blood red mist formed around his wound. The mist became thicker and thicker until it dispersed again, leaving only a huge scar behind. Varog got up as if nothing had happened. His now blood red eyes stared into the fearful faces of his enemies and the cheerful smiles of his former friends... they didn't know what was coming to them. With one mighty swing of his hammer he send the axe fighter flying and then charged the one nearest to him, showing no concern if it was a friend or foe. All Varog could do was watch from the inside how his body slaughtered every single one. He wasn't in control anymore.

After the battle Varog regained control of his body, and while he was watching over the battlefield it became clear to him that he couldn't go back to his people. As he slowly started walking into the distance he heard the voice again: “We are going to have so much fun.”

[Nate_kin]

The History of Dios

Despite his age Dios has'nt really done much with his life. He was born, he grew up, he walked around a bit and got a job and then he became a healer and met you. Maybe I should embelish, Dios was born in Silvermeet, where he spent his childhood playing with the local children in their scampish little games. Ah the good old times after the Great War...If you're wondering what war? Go read a book and learn some history, this isn't a free lesson you know. But he was part of this generation which grew up knowing that life was a wonderful thing. And so with this great belief and need to help people, Dios set about becoming the best healer the world had ever known! After developing excellent people skills and mastering the basics of healing craft at Silvermeet, the healers there awarded him a certificate. Quickly Dios began his quest to help all those around him...for the right price...if they could pay. If they couldn't, well they probably had nothing to live for anyway, so he walked on by. Dios has followed battle like a sort of beneveolent healing vulture. Diving in where the weak are, and if the winning side are able to pay for his services, he has helped them. Of course this has occasionally led to Dios being in some of these fights, some mercenary companies taking a shine to Dios' wit and love of life. Dios has learned through these many fights that hiding and not being involved is the best way to be part of a fight. Then when the bloodshed is over, showing your support to the winning side by patching up their fallen for a price. Of course this has also led to him having a lot of spare time to read books, whilst hiding in crates, til the fighting subsides. Through this time he has picked up a trick or two about words.... don't you doubt him on it.
Well this went on for oh a good sixty...sixty five years. Then he met you lot.
If you want any more details, about his personal life or any of the great deeds he has done...

Piss off, I don't have time for this bum fuckery or Mind your own damn beeswax you foolish young whippersnapper.

Are just two of the responses you might get.
Well Dios has lived a life of troubles. He hoped that by going to the mountains he good maybe, settle down, raise a bastard off some whore. Earn some money, and eat himself into an early grave.

Yes... Dios is living the dream.... he just hope he wakes up from it the next morning.

[A Moose]

When I was poisoned by those entitled prats, when I died for the first time and was reborn as weak and feeble as a newborn, Griffith and I had a long conversation; he told me that with time and patience, along with his knowledge of the healing arts, I would walk again; I expressed, still little more than a child, exactly what I would do to my would-be murderers when I was in possession of that skill.

He told me right then and there that, if all I was going to do was focus on revenge, he would extend no helping hand; that he'd rather leave me to the life of a disabled beggar, than unleash another entitled and all too emotional murderer on the world. He had no doubt, he continued, that I should help in whatever way I could to reveal what they had done, should take pleasure in seeing them punished for the wrongs they had committed - for it was just as inhuman, and unhealthy, to suppress the negative aspects of our mind, such as rage, as to hold back those that are positive, such as mercy. All things in their own time, and inasmuch as is possible in balance, he told me.

No-one had spoken to me like this in years, not since my prophetess had held me in her arms, and certainly not before that; my father was a distant man, angered at the cuckold's horns his wife, my mother, had placed upon his head - and my mother was long gone, off with her presumably well-endowed servant to parts unknown. It's why I had grown up on the streets, a well-to-do merchant's son running with the urchins and street roughs... good days and good friends... some of whom are still alive... My father only took me in hand when adulthood was clearly beginning to claim me, and then only because people were beginning to question the absence of a young man where they had ignored a missing boy, not out of any care for my wellbeing.

He chose the schools I attended because they were strict and well-known for dealing with troublesome cases, not to mention being far away from my friends. I pointed myself towards the military, because I was good at fighting and saw within its ranks the kind of comraderie that I had known growing up. I wanted to go into the ranks; it was my father who paid the money to make me an officer, but only because he wouldn't have a common soldier for a son...

... I have to admit, right up until the poisoning, it was much better being an officer - common soldiers get treated like shit, and it's this shared oppression that breeds an almost desperate comraderie. My father was still an ass, but give him credit where credit's due... of course, if he hadn't insisted, I probably never would have been poisoned. Then again, after everything that's happened to me, I know there's no use crying over it. It was always going to happen.

I was a damned good officer, too; handsome, popular with the rankers and my fellow officers, and - thanks to the streets - the fastest blade in the entire regiment. I was told I had a bright future and at that stage I believed it; I remembered the encounters with my dark skinned seer in a haze of happy and erotic memories, her final prophecy... not forgotten, but just never thought of - despite her strange disappearance. I know... the human mind is a remarkable and screwed up thing...

Other people, a small but influential group, didn't like the idea of me or any other commoner having such a bright future. So they poisoned me - and I died. So there I was having been brought back to life by Griffith, who was then talking to me, as I lay unable to move in a guarded wing of the barracks, more like a father than my own had ever been. As he continued to talk, I argued, but Griffith was old and wise even by this stage of my life, in his eighties, and by all the Gods did he know how to argue back.

And one of the good things about me back then was that I was usually willing to lose an argument if I was clearly wrong. That went out the window if I was being emotional, or was riled about something, which happened a lot back then, but Griffith managed to reach past all my bitterness and bile to this reasonable core... and so, after a good few hours, I agreed to do things his way.

The bastards who poisoned me got the death penalty, which I watched being administered, and let me tell you... it felt good. They deserved to die, and I enjoyed watching it and helping it come to pass, but even moreso having it end. The problem with revenge, in allowing your emotions to control you rather than the other way round, is that it never ends. There's a reason we have two different words for justice and revenge, and it is most definitely not bureaucratic - one stems from order, tranquility and calm, the other from a much more troubled and chaotic source. I think that more than anything has helped keep me sane, even on those occasions when others have treated me like an outcast.

Which is why my most recent travelling companions trouble me. Varog's entire personality seems to stem from that troubled source, Dios as well, Visteen I do not know well enough yet, and Gordon... Gordon seems to like to pretend that he has no negative emotions, or that he can somehow live without them, which is just as dangerous in the long run as freely embracing them. They all have something about them however, even Dios, that makes me like them as well, at least individually; could be the fact they don't instinctually shy away when I get close. Probably something more...

... and Gods, who am I to judge? I'm the one who landed us in this whole mess, I'm damned sure I have numerous unresolved issues that make all the lessons I have supposedly learned completely spurious, but... eh... I'll just do my best and, if it comes to it, try and stop them from killing eachother. It's times like this I especially wish Griffith was still here; he was a master at settling disputes and managing difficult personalities, my own included, and he actually understood the aspects of thought and philosophy that I am still, ten years after he began teaching them to me, trying to get to grips with.

[Lord Zordran]

Thanks for the posts, guys. You can have two brownie points each.

I hope people are enjoying the game. I know it's a bit confusing right now and doesn't feel as much as a campaign as last year's game, but then again we've only just started. Also, please let me know if anyone feels that the animosities between certain characters are getting too strong and are derailing the game too much. While it is quite in keeping with the Swordlands setting that no group ever works together like a big, happy family, the game should still be fun for everyone and there should be some unity.

I will post a gazetteer and a dramatis personae list a bit later.