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Kraka Draka

a series of short stories

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#361 Skull Krusher

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Posted 09 January 2014 - 01:54 AM

Kraka Draka      Part Two Hundred Ninty Nine (299)

 

Note:  Continuation from the previous post... and so for this thread fluff story is over 41 typed pages...

 

*

 

The loud screeching of the door opening echoed throughout the Ungdrin and eventually the sound carried all the way to Kazad Drazhdok and even to the approaching King.  The noise awoke the great Drakk.  She opened an eye lid and saw that the Priest had left and the Loremaster sat not to far away cleaning a Troll skull.  She took a deep breath and spoke.  “Dorin.”  The Loremaster looked up, put down his tools and came to her side.

 

“Is there something you require?” Dorin asked wondering if it was more food.

 

“Are the wounded still down” she asked.

 

Dorin did not know where this conversation would end but he answered anyway.  “Yes they are still in a great deal of pain.”

 

“Bring them to me.” She asked though to Dorin it sounded more like a command and she saw that the Fjellsonn hesitated, “Do not worry I shall not eat them and from what I have heard from my kin Fjellsonn do not taste well at all entirely too tough, bring them to me.” She said again and Dorin did as she asked and wondered if she was joking.

 

*

 

Note:  To be continued and as always have a tankard of ale on my tab....

 



#362 baldbeachbum

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Posted 09 January 2014 - 06:13 AM

Whew, lots of reading.  Thanks for the Kaka Draka.  A very good read for anyone who want to experience the Dwarf culture.  I did the same with The Novel Grudge Bearer.  There is not much available literature on Dwarven society and culture.  



#363 Skull Krusher

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Posted 10 January 2014 - 03:09 AM

Kraka Draka - Part Three Hundred (300)

 

Note: Wow!!! three hundred post of my what I have written would equal 750 typewritten printed pages.  Thank you all for the PM comments over the years... Have a tankard on my tab... the story of Kraka Draka is still growing...

 

Now for the continuation from the last post.

 

*

 

Not to far away and cresting the mountain trail to the plateau Vorni Drong Yorrison and his kin were bringing in nearly a dozen Kruti kids through the gates of Kazad Drazhdok.  They were all tethered together and if Drong knew he would be shepherding they would have brought a couple of the canine-herd dogs that the guild had acquired from an Umgi-Vorni in Kislev who incidentally was their factor in acquiring Pinsk cheese.  He just wondered where and how he and his kin were going to get enough game to keep two Drakk fed.  Game would become scarce around Kazad Drazhdok if they and the Drak-Rangers over-hunted.  Shaking his head at the thought of being Vorni for a couple of Drakk was not going to be believed when they got back to Kraka Draka.  Once inside the herd was placed inside the high-stockade that had been built from the stones that had been part of the ruins.  He kept one of the kids on a tether as his kin secured the stockade gate and tossed some feed inside so they would have something to eat.  The goat baulked as he tried to lead it down the stairs so Drong picked it up and draped the goat over his shoulders holding the legs in both hands as he went down the stairs, it was either the lingering smell of Rock-Troll or the smell of Drakk that frightened it.  It was going to be eaten anyway, if not by a Drakk then by the hungry Dawi of Kazad Drazhdok.

 

*

 

Note:  To be continued.... I am getting close to the end of this particular fluff thread that may take the history as I see it of Kraka Draka in an entirely new stronger direction.. Who knows... stay tuned.

 

 



#364 Skull Krusher

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Posted 13 January 2014 - 12:13 AM

Kraka Draka - Part Three Hundred One (301)

 

Note:  Continuation from previous post... have a tankard of ale on my tab....

 

*

 

They had not been that far away when the Azuldrungi, Ulfar Stromnison of Kalan Shieldbreaker came running toward the rest of the Azuldrungal and the Kings Throng.  The noise he made as he ran could not be mistaken for a flight born of fear for the pace was of a type that could be kept for days-on-end such is the endurance of any Dawi warrior be they clad in light armor of a Drak-Ranger or heavy armor and shield of an Azuldrungal.  When the Azuldrungi came into view he was quickly escorted to King Thorin.  Ulfar had just brought his fist to his chest in a salute to his Rik and raised his visor to speak when the loud screeching of the door opening back-and-forth on ungreased hinges could be heard and everyone looked in the direction from whence Ulfar had come; then slowly the screeching of tortured metal ceased.

 

“Report!” King Thorin demanded, “Do so as you run along side me.”  Then the King’s Throng went from a standing waiting for what Ulfar had to report to a double pace that was nearly at a pace of a charge that was steady and so loud there was no disguising the nature of the sound or its purpose.  The heir kept pace right behind her father as she listened to the report and knew that the doors to Kazad Drazhdok had been seen and if the noise was any indicator they were now being opened.  If anyone would have been watching the Throng as it ran off into the darkness they would have been in awe by the continuous noise of ironclad boots striking the rocky surface of Ungdrin creating sparks that that would have reminded the watcher of lightening and thunderclaps upon the mountain tops of the world above.

 

The two Drak-Azuldrungi, Kadri and Kallon stood with the Drak-Ranger Kazadar Haakronson who had been joined by his Drak-Ranger Thane Norri Hakronsnev and ten other Drak-Rangers listened to what sounded like thunder that echoed through-out the Ungdrin.  It could be only the one thing, the Throng of King Thorin was fast approaching and the thunderous cadence of their iron-clad boots rolled over them like a fast approaching avalanche.  For nearly half a mark they listened then the leading Drak-Azuldrungi burst into view and positioned themselves on either side of the Ungdrin just in front of the open doors and soon there is a double line of Drak-Azuldrungal lining the Ungdrin as King’s Drak-Grundi led by the Drak-Grundal, Thane Skaff Ragnison of Kalan Ironhelm appeared.  Kazadar Haakronson was surprised to see Skaff here; after all he was second in command of the Drak-Azuldrungal and how was Kazadar to know that Rik Drazhgrund had specifically chosen Skaff to guard the King.  Skaff raised his right hand that held a massive double-headed Rhun war-hammer above his head and the Throng slowed to a gradual stop behind him. 

 

Not a word was spoken as the Drak-Grundi Rik surveyed the double rank of Drak-Azuldrungi on either side of the open doors. Skaff recognized his kin Norri Hakronsnev of Kalan Ironhelm whose Drak-Rangers stood at present-arms just beyond the door on either side of the Ungdrin their Quarrelers loaded and great-weapons at the ready.  Skaff noted the Drak-Azuldrungal shield which Kadri held with the three bolts embedded in it and gave an appreciative nod.   Skaff Ragnison approached the door, “The Za of Kraka Draka, King Thorin Thorgardson of Kalan Durazklad, the heir, and his Throng require an escort into Kazad Drazhdok.” 

 

Norri was not sure he heard correctly, the heir here then took threes steps forward and stood before his older kin, mailed fist against his chest in salute to the Drak-Grundi then spoke quietly and quickly, “Skaff the Za is more than welcome, my Drak-Rangers will lead the way but there is room for about twenty where we are going.”  Skaff nodded and made a signal to those behind him.

 

“What about the Rock-Trolls” and Skaff sniffed the air “and the Drakk?” Skaff asked and several of the Drak-Azuldrungal along the walls of the Ungdrin took in a sharp breath, they were already on edge due to the strong smell of Rock-Troll and now a Drakk.

 

“The Rock-Trolls are no more, as for the Drakk that is for the Za to decide.” Norri replied.  Then he looked over Skaff’s shoulder, and saw the Za and nearly went to bended knee in respect but the Drak-Grundi pulled him up and told his kin to lead the way.  Norri nodded and turned toward his Drak-Rangers and without a word they lead the way at a leisurely pace since their destination was not far.  

 

*

 

 



#365 Skull Krusher

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Posted 18 January 2014 - 04:41 AM

Kraka Draka - Part Three Hundred and two (302)

 

Note:  Continuation from previous post....  Hope you enjoy so far... Have a tankard on my tab...

 

 

Earlier as the King was nearing the guarded doors to Kazad Drazhdok and with the help of others, the Dawi wounded are moved from the makeshift healing quarters to where the Drakk lay curled protectively around her egg.  Every one of the Dawi at Kazad Drazhdok had been to the chamber to look in awe and some even conversed long into the day or night, especially the Vorni and most of the Drak-Rangers.  When the eight wounded Dawi were helped to their pallets she gazed upon them for what seemed like an eternity but the Drakk was remembering how each had fought with courage and not one cowered when confronted by the rush of angry Rock-Trolls, some like Dorin and Oldar fought to protect her and the egg as four Rock-Trolls pushed their way into the chamber.  Dorin easily dispatched two Rock-Trolls and was ready to help the Priest of Gazul but found Oldor Thorison standing over two dead Rock-Trolls cleaning his weapon. From what she knew of the young Loremaster the Drakk thought his talents are wasted amongst books and scrolls not that knowledge was a waste.  She also weighted the pros and cons of what she would ask of the wounded.  She could not foresee the future like some of her kind but she knew that what she was about to do would affect their future greatly. 

 

Looking towards the wounded Stone-Mason Thane Bronn Gormsson, and finally the Priest and the Loremaster she spoke; “As I said before, Kalea Valadottier will be your Queen in the future is nearly here; I can feel the rock beneath me shake as she and her bodyguard nears.”  They would be here at the open doorway in moments, she could even hear the rapid beating of a goat’s heart and the not-so-quiet steps of the approaching king and his heir.  She shifted her gaze from the Fjellsonn to the egg and studied the surface closely then looked up again, “Very soon the first crack will appear and she will soon have her first breath of air.  Both she and the young Queen, will need their protectors.” 

 

Timing is everything she had once been told and with the arrival of the King and heir and to Dawi’s complete surprised the Drakk stood upon all four legs for the first time, her sharp claws digging furrows in the rock floor, her wings folded back against her body head held high, her egg lay between her front claws.  She stood there looking very regal, like a Queen of her kind and the Dawi before her wondered if for the first time that they may have made an error in judgment. 

 

It was only then they heard what she had felt the arrival of the King of Kraka Draka, or in the language of the Umgi, Dragon Hold.  Only she saw the arrival of the Fjellsonn King, the Dawi had their backs to the door their attention totally on her as she spoke.  The wounded listened intently wondering how if called upon how they could protect a Drakk and the King’s heir who would someday be Queen for they are not Drak-Grundal.  “My blood can heal every single one of you but that healing comes at a great price, to some great pain.”  That got their as saw that more than a few were leaning towards her wanting to hear more.  “If you have the strength, come to me and drink of my blood as you swear an oath of fealty.”  She could see some of the Fjellsonn seemed startled.  “Swearing upon all you hold sacred your Honor!  In doing so you each will become the future Queen’s personal guard as well as my daughter’s allowing no enemy to come between you and whom you guard.”

 

It was Oldor Thorison, the Priest of Gazul who asked the question that was on each of their minds; “Will this oath be at odds or violate their previous oaths taken to our King?”  Dorin and Drong had personally seen what the visible affects of drinking Drakk blood had on Wyrdrakendrengi Skaldor Grondson and his Wolfhound and wondered if the affects were different depending on the type of Drakk.

 

“No it will not, for the oath is similar to the one you have already taken to your King, your Clan, and your ancestors.  Your oath is to protect my daughter and your Queen as they protect the King’s realm of Kraka Drakk.” She looked at each of them intently and spoke again but she also stared into the eyes of King Thorin who stood in the doorway, his daughter at his side, “The choice is yours, we only await the arrival of your king and your future Queen,” behind the King and Princess stood Drong Yorrison with a goat across his shoulders and he felt her call.

 

The King stood in the archway he had heard the question from the Priest of Gazul and the Drakk’s answer.  He listened silently as he gazed upon the Drakk and the egg nestled between her claws.  For the first in his life King Thorin felt pure fear as he looked upon her.  As long-lived in comparison to an Umgi, Thorin’s fear quickly gave way to awe at the sight a live fire-breathing Drakk.  Thorin had read the chronicles in the archive about the founding of Kraka Draka, he had been there when Wyrdrakendrengi Skaldor Grondson gave his report to Runelord Hugnir Skalfson the Patriarch of Kalan Karangaz last year and saw the affect of drinking Drakk blood.  The Drakk before him is huge and definitely fire-breathing, scaly and horned, large wings, with four legs and a long muscular prehensile tail.  Hearing and reading about a Drakk is one thing to be in the presence of one was another matter.  Thorin was surprised that he did not feel the need of the reassuring presence of a weapon in his hand instead the King felt his daughter’s hand upon his, not in fear as he quickly glanced at Kalea but in true wonder as she looked upon the Drakk.  The Drakk was relaxed like a Queen upon her throne much like he was when he sat listening to petitioners.  Though Thorin could tell that beneath that apparent ease her body is wrapped in corded muscle and banded over in iron like scale plates over the entire body, a body with overlapping scales that glistened like a polished green emeralds or perhaps jade.  Her jaws gaped as she spoke and it surprised him that she is speaking in Khazalid.  As she did little wisps of smoke drifted upward through the gaps between her teeth, teeth that are as long as his Rhun great-weapon and the heat that radiated as she spoke was like standing before a great forge fire.  It was her eyes that finally captivated Thorin, for they looked like two great black pools or mirrors that reflected a mid-night sky filled with stars as they looked down upon him.  He could not look away for he felt trapped like a rabbit before some great predator but he heard an internal voice that said “fear not” and he relaxed.  And like a Queen she wore her own crown, twin sweptback bone-white horns that narrowed to a point.  King Thorin glanced around the room at the Dawi and not one showed any sign of fear just respect and he wondered if she had entrapped them all for Drakks are creatures of great magic and instinct.  Instead he, Kalea, and his Drak-Grundal bodyguard listened, listened to the great heart beating.

 

The room is quiet with the exception of the ever present drum-beat of the great Drakk’s heart and the lesser drum beat of the daughter which could be heard through the shell.  The Dawi in the room looked at each other and finally Lun Grimson of Kalan Stonehammer who struggled to his feet and limped unaided toward the great Drakk followed by his cousin Finn Grimsnev and surprisingly their gravely wounded Thane, Bronn Gormsson.  They knew that without her help they would already be dead in the first wave of the Rock-Troll attack and as they stepped forward the Drakk painfully unfolded both of her wings and it became apparent to all that she would never fly again such was the damage they saw.  With out being asked the Priest of Gazul came forward unsheathed his dagger and with the Rhun-blade in one hand and a tankard in the other.  Oldar gently open a pulsing vein near one of the ruined wing bones and let the blood slowly filled the tankard.  With a firm grip on the vein so she would not bleed-out he handed the Stone-Mason the tankard.  She spoke “place your hand upon her shell and swear your oath, then drink, my daughter will know you from this day forth.”

 

He did so, and beneath his callused hands he could feel a steady heart beat and then an image of the Drakk came to mind and he wished to carve her likeness.  Then in a voice full of pain the Stone-Mason spoke.  “I, Lun, Master Carver of the Stone Mason Guild, and member of Kalan Stonehammer, son of the Dawi known as Grim Finnison and Freda Bredadottier, swear that from this hour on I will be faithful to my Za, the Princess, Kalea “Wyr-Leopard Drengi” Valadottier, and to your Drakk daughter.  I will be faithful to each with regard to life, and in good faith, and without deception.  I will be faithful concerning Norsca Ankor and the territory that belongs to it within its entire boundaries.  Neither Norsca Ankor will I seize from my liege, not I nor any foe acting by my advice or instigation.  I will endeavor to hold, and defend against all foe who might wish to seize or deprive my Rik of all these I have mention.  I will protect your daughter and the King’s daughter letting no foe come between them and my weapon.  If I should fail;” and here Lun took a deep breath as he shook his head at the thought of failure, “my honor and all my possessions will be forfeit for I shall take the Slayers Oath.  I swear this on the third day of Adderhekes, in the eighth year of the reign of King Thorin Thorgardson.”  When Lun Grimson finished his oath he took the tankard from the Priest of Gazul, and drank its contents in one long gulp and licked his lips clean. 

 

Then the others; Bronn Gormsson, Finn Grimsnev, Cranneg Svenson of Kalan Kolgrund, Ragni Yannison and Alric Nundrisnev of Kalan Ironhelm, Kargun Dimzadson of Kalan Shieldbreaker, Guttri Algrimson of Kalan Drazhhar, and Kazrik Drongson of Kalan Gordrengi did the same one at a time giving their own oath of fealty and Dorin “Talon” Moreksnev, Loremaster recorded the individual oaths.  Each of the recipients as they walked back to their pallet and sat down felt the affects differently.  For some the most immediate affects were acute hearing, eye-sight sharpened, most felt stronger, their wounds no longer hurt or the old aches and pains of their long life ceased to be felt.  

 

But then to the great Drakks and the Kings surprise so too did Dorin and the Vorni, Drong Yorrison of Kalan Langkhirn who thrust the bleating kid into the arms of one of the Drak-Rangers beside him as he came forward he muttered out-loud, “Well someone has to keep her fed,” Drong said out-loud as he went forward and more than a few Dawi listening laughed out-loud. 

 

When those two Oaths were given and recorded; the great Drakk painfully folded her wings back along her body and lay back down.  She nodded toward the Priest of Gazul who took two full tankards to the King of Kraka Draka and the heir and spoke, “You came.”

 

Note:  To be continued....



#366 Skull Krusher

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Posted 24 January 2014 - 02:56 AM

Kraka Draka - Part Three Hundred three (303)

Note: Continuation from previous post.... have a tankard on my tab

“How could I not?” the King replied.

“Because it is in your nature to kill out of hand” she said and saw the King and his subjects bristle but she continued in order to see just what sort of King or father he was and to test his heir “or are you another High King Snorri “Drak-Drengi” Cromson who founded his kingdom upon ambushing and slaying a sleeping Drakk or perhaps like the honor-less Wyrdrakendrengi Skaldor Grondson who wanders around trying to regain his honor through the death of others.”

“No he is not a mindless killer!” Kalea shouted as she thrust her way from her father’s protective grasp to confront this Drakk who knew nothing about her father. “Eight years ago my sister and I helped our grandfather, the King of Kraka Draka prepared for war, to battle an invading Chaos horde,” Kalea yelled as she poked the Drakk in repeatedly in the nose with her finger. “My grandfather, the King, his heir my uncle who is my fathers older brother were both killed in that battle. That is how my father became King, not by being a Drakk-Drengi! My father is the most honorable, brave, most caring Dawi in the whole of Norsca, and if you were a Dawi I would challenge you to a Dar for insulting him and my Kalan.”

The mood in the chamber swiftly shifted, Dorin and Oldor were ready to step in to calm everyone down, some had grasped the shafts of their weapons but had yet to draw them to do battle and those newly present wondered if the Drak-Rangers had made a serious error in judgment. Those that had sworn an oath to protect the heir were all on their feet ready to stand between the heir and any foe. Each and every one knew they would sacrifice their life to save the Princess from harm but the Drakk did nothing to harm only closed her eyes, twin wisps of white smoke escaped her nostrils and spiraled upward to disappear into the night air and she appeared to laugh. She heard the King step forward to stand behind his daughter his hands on her shoulder, and he too began to chuckle at the sight of his daughter poking a Drakk in the nose as she yelled and challenged it. He could not wait to tell his patriarch, Drazhgrund. The Drakk opened her eyes and spoke to both of them, “why did you come?”

The King smiled, his body shook with suppressed silent laughter, “You asked for protection for your daughter, I just never thought I would have to protect you from my own daughter,” he replied and the rooms mood lightened and many gave sighs of relief and many others smiled and laughed at the absurdity of protecting a Drakk from the heir. But those who had train her and fought against her on the sparring grounds knew that she was formidable and deadly as several of the Drak-Grundi who were present in the room could attest to.

The Drakk inhaled and tasted the air around her much like a common reptile would, “You Fjellsonn on the whole are a hardy race but the Fjellsonn of your kingdom have more in common with the race of Drakk than those of your kin elsewhere.” She could tell that no one in the room understood what she meant or if it was intended as a complement or not. She would have added, “That Fjellsonn of your kingdom are very much different from the Fjellsonn elsewhere because of how you brew your ale, make your bread, and the food you eat” but she left it unsaid.

She was satisfied and looked to the Priest of Gazul who still held the full tankards that were so warm that steam drifted upward, “will you drink of me no harm will come to either of you this I swear upon the life of my daughter. My daughter will grow in strength and size, and she and Kalea together will become two of Kraka Drakk’s greatest of defenders.”

The King weighed the pros and cons and nodded yes, the priest handed him a tankard which warmed his hands. Thorin swore no oath other than to say, “I will treat yours as if she is my own daughter of my own flesh and blood,” with one hand on the egg Thorin drank until the tankard was empty and handed the tankard back to the Priest of Gazul. The Drakk was moved greatly for the King’s oath is powerful and she could feel its power as she felt and heard her daughter respond to the King Thorin.


Note: To be continued....

Edited by Skull Krusher, 24 January 2014 - 02:59 AM.


#367 Skull Krusher

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Posted 26 January 2014 - 10:43 PM

Kraka Draka - Part Three hundred four (304)

 

Note: continuation from previous post....  Hope you enjoy the story and beer, have another on my tab.

 

 

Timing is everything the Drakk thought again as she turned her attention upon Kalea and asked, “Will you, Kalea “Wyr-Leopard Drengi” Valadottier drink, and become by daughter’s friend and her comrade-in-arms?” 

 

Kalea took the steaming tankard from the Priest of Gazul and approached the egg which is nearly three times her size and slowly circled the egg several times her left had caressed the egg-shell as she did.  From a distance in the poor lighting of the chamber the egg-shell looked to be one uniform color but as studied it she realized that it was not just one color but of many different hues and the egg-shell felt so smooth and hard beneath her fingertips it reminded her of the time she had visited the Glass Maker and Potter Guild craft halls and seen the kiln fired glassware and pottery that is produced there.  The egg-shell felt hot to her touch as if it had just left the fires of the kiln.  Kalea could feel movement within the egg beneath her fingertips and wondered what color the small Drakk would be.  Would it be green like her mother?  The fact that she stood between the forelegs of a Drakk whose claws are longer than two ore-carts and sharper than her father’s Rhun-axe never entered her thoughts.  She looked past her father toward the six Sisters of Valaya who were her bodyguards on the journey here and wondered what they thought.  The Valaya Priestess, Skornia Kettradottier of Kalan Drakkdrengi nodded her approval and Kalea nodded back.  Still caressing the egg Kalea inhaled and the steamy air fill her lungs and she felt suddenly refreshed ready for another long march or a hard day in the mines or weapons training.  Kalea tilted the tankard to her lips and like the others before her drank it empty and even wiped the inside dry with her finger and licked her finger until it was clean.  With her eyes closed, she felt the affects of the Drakk blood as her whole body one limb at a time slowly became warmer as if she stood next to a hot forge fire.  Kalea spoke only three words, “Sister and friend.”

 

Yes, timing is everything for at that moment the egg began to rock back and forth as the fledgling inside begins to peck its way out.  Other than the sound of the great Drakk’s heart the pecking sounded much like a Dawi miners pick against hard rock and that sound had everyone’s attention.  At first the pecking was tentative then more strident and louder, and suddenly a small star shaped crack began to appear on the surface of the egg-shell and ever so slowly the cracks began to lengthen.  The Drakk suddenly hissed out, “Drong Yorrison the goat, everyone not blood-sworn must leave. Now! Oldor stay!”  The room cleared but the Drak-Grundi, and the Sisters of Valaya stayed near the doorway looking in and are at odds about what to do, their duty to guard and protect the King and Heir or to obey the Drakk.

 

Everyone’s attention is on the egg rocking back and forth when suddenly one of the cracks widens from the top of the egg to nearly the bottom.  The fledgling begins hissing and squawking as small sharp talons appear on either side of the crack and pulls.  The egg splits in half and the fledgling Drakk flaps its damp wings, attempting to stand upright as it raises its thin neck calling out loudly snapping and hissing in great hunger.  The great Drakk speaks quickly, “Kalea, feed your sibling, quickly now, she will know you from this moment on.”

 

Dorin “Talon” Moreksnev turned to King Thorin as the fledgling takes its first step as it flaps its wings, 

“Scales glistening like

Emeralds; multi-shaded hues

Like prism beams.”

 

“Aye Dorin that she is, she wears the colors of our hold, Kraka Draka, green scales,” the Za replied as he watched his daughter take the bleating struggling kid from Drong’s hands and without hesitation goes to the fledgling.  Quickly slitting the kid’s throat blood gushes forth and the fledgling drinks the blood till no more comes forth and then its jaws bite into goat tearing chunks of flesh away as it feeds.  Kalea placed the body of the goat in front of the fledgling, and watches it eat and is reminded of the Leopard kittens she raised till they were nearly full grown and dangerous to be around.  That was nearly five years ago and she felt sad that they never became tame and now their pelts warm her bed.  Kalea stretched out a tentative hand and began scratching the eye ridge and immediately the fledging begins crooning, and pushes its head against her chest much like an ore-cart ponies do when they want their ears scratched.  Kalea looked the fledgling in the eyes as she scratched the eyes ridges wondering what her name is and what to call her.  Then the name comes to her in a small faint voice heard only by Kalea and perhaps the great Drakk.  “Her name is Ehrung, which means honor,” Kalea said and the Dawi present nodded with approval.

 

Note:  To be continued

 

 

 



#368 Skull Krusher

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Posted 30 January 2014 - 02:35 AM

Kraka Draka - Part Three Hundred Five (305)

 

Note:  Continuation from previous post....

 

She silently watches and is pleased, then the Drakk spoke but not in Khazalid though that is what everyone heard in their mind, for she spoke in the language of her kind, in what the Dragon Princes of Calendor upon the Isle of Ulthuan foolishly call Dragon-song but it was actually mind speech.  All the oath-takers in the chamber saw what she was thinking for she had not thought of the Dragon Princes in centuries.  What she missed most was riding the thermals from North to South high above the mountains and Isles of Ulthuan.  She had never truly been a fighter like her kin though more than one Asur Dragon Prince tried to enthrall her but they all failed miserably and more than one died.  There was only one Asur that she would allow upon her back and that was a scholarly female mage, and when the mage was killed by an assassin. That killing did no go un-avenged for she tracked the assassin to the royal court and tore the killer apart; then Drakk fled Ulthuan.  No one pursued her for about this time nearly all her kin had begun to sleep.  She thought of the massive Great Hall filled with hordes of Dragons of all sizes and colors.  A vast hall filled with silence broken only by the chorus of rasping breaths of the slumbering Dragons.  They would sleep for centuries and would seldom wake despite the urging of the Asur and now the Dragon Princes ride upon the field of battle on war-horses.  She snorted at that thought, smoke escaping from her jaws.  It has been many long years since an Asur rode the skies in battle and in a few more years perhaps her daughter, Ehrung and Kalea will ride the thermals above Norsca and woe be the foe that comes to Kraka Draka.

 

“My time grows increasing short,” then the great Drakk spoke for nearly ten days non-stop.  She had much to impart, and food and drink was brought.  The fledgling, Ehrung lay with her head upon either Kalea’s or the Za’s lap but for the most part she alternated from lying beside the great Drakk or between the Za and the Heir, and every day for ten days Dorin Moreksnev, Loremaster, recorded it all.  Dorin let the great Drakk read the last lines in the Kron, “Aye,” he had said. “Drakks are terrible to behold and their mighty wings blot out the sun-light, and their fiery breath can consume the world.  Most sane people would be filled with despair, but not a Dawi of Kraka Draka for we look upon our Drakk with pride.”  She nodded casting one last spell, and then the light within her eyes slowly dimmed and the internal fires slowly died till the great Drakk breathed no more, (and gradually returning to stone from whence all Dragon kind initially came.)

 

*

 

 

Note:  To be continued... may change the last 12 words of this particular post...

 


Edited by Skull Krusher, 31 January 2014 - 04:17 AM.


#369 Skull Krusher

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Posted 01 February 2014 - 01:35 AM

Kraka Draka - Part Three Hundred Six (306)

Note: Continuation from previous post...


*

Back in Kraka Draka Guild Master and Runelord Hugnir Skalfson, Patriarch of Kalan Karangaz sat reading a message from Lord Drazhgrund that had been sent by the King. He thought back nearly five years ago when the King commissioned a set of perfectly balance war hammers as well as armor for the heir, Kalea. At the time the Drazhgrund’s directions seemed farfetched but now as he looked upon the armor breastplate taking shape along with the shield, gauntlets, pauldrons, verbraces, helm, greaves, and light chain-mail, the winged Drakk design that Lord Drazhgrund had suggested and the King eventually approved. The Rhun war hammers were completed and the Rhun armor over half completed. Hugnir wondered how Drazhgrund could have foreseen the type of armor and weapons that that they had commissioned. Hugnir had heard rumors that Tanner Guild were crafting some kind of harness and saddle that wound fit no Ore-cart pony, he shook his head and went back to the anvil and forge wondering just where Kalan Rhynhand would find enough leather.

* * *


Note: This is the final post for this particular story-line. It is 51 type pages and overall the stories I have written about Kraka Draka total 751 typed pages. Every story is a different aspect of life in the Norsca Ankor. I have already started another story and it is already growing longer.

Hope you enjoy reading my stories and feel free to PM me about them… Cheers and have a tankard of ale on my tab… several if you are so incline…

#370 Alur Dawi Zharr

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Posted 09 February 2014 - 11:11 AM

Wow that was a decently long tale.

#371 Alur Dawi Zharr

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Posted 09 February 2014 - 11:12 AM

Thank you, I have become even more interested in Dawi now and intend to do some writing of my own.

#372 Alur Dawi Zharr

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Posted 09 February 2014 - 11:14 AM

PS, this may be common knowledge but where exactly is Kraka Drak.

#373 Skull Krusher

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Posted 13 February 2014 - 02:36 AM

Kraka Draka - Part Three Hundred seven (307)

 

Note:  This is a new fluff piece for my favorite Dwarf Hold Kraka Draka.  It was inspired by all the RUMOR threads that have proliferated this forum about the new uncoming codex and new figures....  Personally I dislike rumors because to my way of thinking they are a waste of time contemplating something that you have no control over and in some cases individuals are disappointed when the facts come out.  Rumors have a way of biting people in the rear.... and so that is what this particular new fluff story is about.... a rumor than can open up a bag of worms or change your life in ways you had not expected.

 

Cheers and have a keg or two on my tab.

 

...................

 

Like an irritating gnat a persistent rumor is making its way throughout Kraka Draka and it seemed to have been first heard in and around the underground Port of Sjoktraken soon after a Vithang ship arrives offloading merchandise imported from the Umgi Empire of Sigmar.  It has been heard within more than one of the port taverns including the Rusty Harpoon. The rumor when it was heard was neither confirmed nor denied for there was no point in issuing a Dar upon the individual who initiated the rumor or passed it on.  What was even more frustrating was that the event that the rumor referred to is older than those who listened to the rumor in the first place.  Any Umgi that may have had first hand knowledge of the event have been dead for so long that even their great-great-grandchildren knew not the names of even their long dead sires.  As for the Dawi of Kraka Draka, there are sixty five Kalans and perhaps only five or six of the Kalan patriarchs and matriarchs who know of the event and they have said nothing to confirm or deny as well.  Individual Kalan archives are busier than normal as curious Kalan Loremasters search the various Krons to no avail.  The rumor was that a Dawi had fought an Umgi’s champion in order to prove the innocence of an individual who was unfairly condemned to death.  The prisoner being of Royal blood had called for a Trial by Combat or a Dar which was fought not till first blood is shed, or until either champion surrendered but to the death.  This was the gist of the rumor but there is no detail saying who the individuals were, what the crime was, or even what Kalan or Kraka the Dawi was from. 

 

He, Skalli Skorrison had first heard the rumor but not within the Kalan Khaz, where rumors were never spoken but in a tavern owned by his Kalan, the Rusty Harpoon.  Since he was of the Durazklad Kalan he had attended more than one class presented by the Kalan’s Karugromthi and Patriarch.  Those classes are always broader more informative than if he was a member of one of the other Kalans, like a Warrior, Vithang or Boki Kalan.  He had a faint memory of a lecture or was it one of the Karugromthi’s own Zagaz that spoke of a time when he and others were in the south land, somewhere in the Empire of Sigmar to seek justice thus removing a grudge from the Dammaz Kron.  He also remembered overhearing a conversation between the Patriarch and his Rinn about being in the southland on a diplomatic mission.  He wondered if both were one in the same which was why he was in the archives of Kraka Draka searching.  The first time he had come to the archives he was in awe, for his Kalan archives are quiet extensive but the main Holds archives are huge.  He had once been told by the Patriarch’s Kvinn that you could place two of the Umgi cathedral dedicated to Sigmar inside the archives and still have more than enough room for shelving for Krons and the temples would seem small.  The archives are vast and if not for the many Loremasters a Dawi could get lost trying to find what he or she was looking for.  Stone shelves filled all the available space on all ten levels nearly all the way to the distant ceiling.  This is why Skalli decided to quietly ask Dorin the one Dawi in the whole Kalan who was unafraid to speak about the rumor though quietly and out of hearing of the royal court and who incidentally not to long ago became a kin when Dorin married his cousin?  But most of his kin or other Dawi who do not know Dorin closely avoided him, because they think that he is a Zaki Drengi or because he had recently killed an attacking Slaanesh Demon, his second if anyone was keeping count and more recently two Trolls at Kazad Drazhdok and now a newly carved Nogarung and Skalli had no idea why Dorin was at the Kazad.  Perhaps it was the three scars that crossed his face that caused most Dawi to avoid the Loremaster but in any case Skalli asked Dorin several days ago where the Krons for diplomatic treaties are shelved and was told level five of the archives.  As Skalli headed toward that level he compared Dorin “Talon” Moreksnev with the other apprentice and journeyman Loremasters that he knew and decided that Dorin unlike the others is neither Kronish, a Khazukan or utterly boring. Perhaps that is why his cousin, Solveig Alrikadottier married him several years ago and now they have a son and daughter; Bradni Dorinson and Anaya Solveigdottier. 

 

Dorin “Talon” Moreksnev, Loremaster smiled as he observed quite a few more Kalan kin conducting research on various topics, some doing title searches involving ownership, others tax issues or traded issues, the more serious were looking to settle old grudges.  But the newest influx of Kalan kin as well as other Dawi from other Kalans that are here is because they are searching for the truth about the newest rumor.  It reminded him of an Umgi pirate treasure hunt, everyone scurrying around looking over their shoulder to see if someone is watching or discovering something important.  Dorin returned the nod from one of the journeyman Loremasters as he made his way up the spiral stone stairway to level five.  Upon reaching the diplomatic treaty section he is surprised to see Queen Vala’s niece Kari Katrindottier reading a Kron that is from the period of 52nd King of Kraka Draka, Grindol Florinson who ruled from I.C. 1972 until 2010.  He was surprised not that she was here, for “Kazhunkidrengi” which is the nickname Kari earned when she slew an Umgi lord but that Kari had her youngest, Zylra who is sleeping tucked under the folds of her half closed fur-cloak with her as she read.  Dorin wondered how she came to be in the archives for he had not seen her enter and he wondered where her escorts are until he saw the Drak-Grundal not far away trying to be unobtrusive yet close enough to be effective bodyguards. Not seeing young Alaric Drazhgrundson Dorin wondered if he is back in the Kalan Khaz weapons yard.

 

Hearing a noise Kari looked up just as one of the Loremasters came up the stairs and realized it is Dorin.  Placing one of her hair ribbons in the Kron she closes it as Dorin approaches the table.  “Kvinn Kari, have you found what you are searching for” Dorin asked as he stopped by the table, “if not how may I be of assistance?”

 

For the sake of modesty Kari insured that her cloak is fully closed as she half turned away.  Dorin’s youngest child, Anaya is the same age at Zylra so she was sure he had not seen anything that he had not seen before.  Kari and Solveig, Dorin’s Kvinn are close cousins so for Dorin to speak formally was a little upsetting but decided that since the archives is a public place she would excuse him.  “Actually I am about finished;” she replied “I had been reading about Sven Skauldson, captain and master of the “Sea Cat”.  I was interested in his discovery and the salvaging of the Umgi ship, the “Golden Stag” and the saving of the Dawi aboard who started Kalan Krupp here in Kraka Draka over 500 years ago.”

 

Loremaster Moreksnev nodded as he responded, “Is that Kron miss shelved, historical archives about our Vithangs or the Kalans are shelved elsewhere and usually on the first level of the archive.  This is the diplomatic section.”

 

The Kalan patriarch’s Kvinn replied, “Yes I know.  I was just wondering where Sven Skauldson was sailing to or from when he discovered the Golden Stag adrift on the storm-tossed Sea of Claws off the coast of Nordland province of the Empire where the River Salz dumps into Drosselspule Bay.

 

“Nordlanders are churlish and uncouth I can not imagine a diplomatic mission to Salzenmund,” Dorin said.  “The only redeeming fact about Nordland is their Silversmith Guild which is not saying much, despite the high demand for silver work among the Umgi.”  He paused for a moment and is about to ask a question then decided not when he spotted one of their kin; Skalli Skorrison who is the Patriarch’s many times great-nephew was apparently listening.

 

Something passed between the Loremaster and the Patriarch’s Kvinn for as soon as the Loremaster spotted him their voices became lower and or they changed the subject.  Skalli went to the nearest site map of this level indicating the Za’s span upon the thrown.  With little else to go on he decided to start during the rule of King Grindol Florinson and with a passing nod to both his kin he left and eventually found the correct location for the beginning of King Grindol’s rule.

 

Skalli proceeded to the correct row of shelves until something caught his attention so he stopped.  He slowly turned in place studying the surrounding tall shelves stacked with Krons.  Skalli had not felt this particular sensation for some time, not since visiting the Kalan Karangaz foundry of his kin and that was when he watched the Patriarch of Kalan Karangaz place a Master Rhun of Concealment upon a Dammaz Barag.  The Rhun Skalli felt was nearby and it felt much the same as the Rhun placed upon that Barag.  But here in the archives, that could only mean not only was the section of the archives off limits but also hidden to the casual user of the archives just like that Barag out on the battlefield.  He slowly sensed his was around the archives occasionally picking up a Kron then replacing it until Skalli eventually discovered what he was looking for, a hidden door at the end of a row of shelves on diplomatic mining contracts of the four Norsca Ankor holds.  It was not locked, he opened it and entered and when he did Skalli half expected total darkness but then the Brynduraz stones mounted along the walls and ceilings fully illuminated the restricted section of the archives.  Skalli quietly shut the door then read the archives site map it was only then that he realized that every single Kron has a chain running through the spine of the Kron and is attached to the stone shelf where they are shelved.  The Krons in this section held information that could bring grave danger to Kraka Draka and Norsca Ankor if disclosed.  For the first time in years, not since he and a patrol of Rangers were nearly ambushed had Skalli Skorrison felt this nervous.  Skalli searched the shelves until he found the section of diplomatic Krons during the rule of King Grindol Florinson.  It was the fourth Kron before he found what he was searching for; the detailed account of the Trial by Combat.  The chains rattled no matter how carefully he turned the pages as he sat at the bench reading...

 

*

 

Note:  To be continued.



#374 Skull Krusher

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Posted 16 February 2014 - 03:24 AM

Kraka Draka - Part Three Hundred Eight (308)

 

Note:  continuation form previoust post

 

*

 

“I am Logan Grundbarson.” The prisoner shouted.  “The blood of Norscan Dawi kings runs in my veins, I will not be burned at the stake or hung like a common criminal.”  The courtroom crowd jeered and even some fellow prisoners for they cared little for Reavers who sailed south across the Sea of Claws to loot and pillage.  “Only my Ancestor Gods or your Sigmar may be my judge, and only to them will I submit,” the prisoner yelled as he tugged at the chains, but the bailiff and executioner ensured they were still secure. “As a member of the royal Clan Durazklad and an ally of your own King I invoke my right to a Trial by Combat.  Let our Gods decide my fate.”    The crowd continued to jeer and threw all matter of noxious filth at him and they only stopped when the Judge and notorious Witch Hunter, Mikari Novosi raised his staff of office.  Turning to the bailiff and his henchmen he gave them their orders, “take the prisoner outside” then he faced the obvious mutant for that was surely what he was though he had no obvious stigmata’s upon his body unless overly long hair and beard was a sign of chaos.  “You have only two hours to live, if in that time no champion comes forth to defend you, you will burn.”

 

The people of the city gathered to watch the spectacle and the newcomers joined in as they tossed refuge at him.  Logan soon found himself chained to a stone post that is ten feet tall and roughly a foot wide and there is an iron ring fixed at waist high which is where his chains are secured.  He noted as they dragged him up to the post that there is four stone steps and it seemed somehow appropriate, four steps, one for each Ancestor Gods.  With his wrists locked securely to the post ring the bailiff and his men began pilling f.a.g.o.t.s all around the steps up to his waist.  He inhaled and Logan could smell the recent soot that stained the stone steps and granite pillar.

 

He had two hours and Logan was not just going to wait.  He leaned against the post braced his feet and began slowly pushing back and forth against the post in hopes of breaking it loose from the stone steps and abruptly stopped when one of the guards prodded Logan with a spear.  He shrugged his shoulders; and as much as he could turns his back on the guards then brought his hands up to his mouth and ran his fingers through his beard.  The thieving Umgi had removed all the gold and silver beard rings, and gem stones but perhaps they may have missed something that he could use to open the lock.  But they had been thorough.  He had less that two hours now and even if he escaped he was still going to be considered dead to hearth and kin.  The shame of being captured by Umgi was more than Logan could stand.  Logan looked up as the crowd cheered as the courts champion entered the courtyard.  He is huge, so huge he is as large and tall as an Ogre only not grotesque.  He fought and killed Ogres from the Mountains of Mourn, a Gronti of Norsca, and even a huge Kurgan who followed the Blood God.  Everything about this champion, Vladimir Putortin is huge; legs, arms, fee, chest and shoulders all encased in leather and chainmail and as he passed the pillar to which Logan is chained the champion only smiled and evil smile.  The crowd began chanting, “Vladimir, Vladimir, Vladimir” and the champion turn his head toward the crowd and nodded and continued stopping only when he  was three steps below the judge who stood staff of office in hand talking to the bailiff who held a burning torch.

 

The Judge, Mikari Novosi, the bailiff, and Vladimir stood listening to the jeering crowd, some taunting the prisoner, some chanting the champion’s name and time is slipping by as the empty hour-glass is turned over, one hour left.  Vladimir watched the courtyard gate, naked blade in his hand.  It was like everything else on him, larger than other Umgi blades, longer than Logan is tall by nearly a foot. 

 

The sand was slowly disappearing when there is a noise at the gate and the sound of a drum and two files of mounted knights rode through the open gates, the crowd is suddenly silent and the Knights of Erengrad form a circle around the outer rim of courtyard and still the sound of a drum is heard.  The through the gates came an armed warrior no taller than the prisoner and there is laugher from the crowd until one of the senior knight calls for silence.  The warrior marched across the courtyard looking neither right nor left as he kept his eyes not on the prisoner but on the judge and the champion.  Then senior knight dismounts and heads toward the local Boyar, Mikari Novosi who is the judge.  The prince wanted a message to be delivered to this stubborn Boyar.   

 

Then Drazhgrund stops before the threesome, and slowly turns in place as he faces the entire courtyard as he spoke, “I am Drazhgrund Kartinson I am also the Ambassador to the court of Igor the Terrible, Prince of Erengrad.”  Drazhgrund could see that they cared not a wit of who he is but the mention of the Igor the Terrible is another matter.  Perhaps they are intimidated after all for every one knew what happened when the Roppsmann Prince of Erengrad invited the Ungol Prince of Dorogo to join the Confederacy of Kislevite States; Igor’s herald was slain out-of-hand.  Since the Ungol Prince of Dorogo refused, Igor’s army marched on the Ungol city-state of Dorogo, and reduced it and then renames it Kislev.  Then Igor embarks on a campaign to consolidate the rest of the various minor states and principalities of southern and central Kislev.  Yes they are intimidated by Igor the Terrible but not by me, Drazhgrund thought as the three turned their back on him as they conferred with the knight.

 

Drazhgrund removes a keg from his belt and fills a tankard that he also had at his belt and quietly began drinking.  He looked up at the sky, felt the mornings sun’s heat upon his armor.  It would be warm he thought to himself, he had yet to say a word to Logan Grundbarson perhaps later after the Trial by Combat if all went well.  If not and he gave an internal shrug.

 

Vladimir turned his head glancing at the Dwarf, if that was to be believed.  Everyone knew that Dwarves dwelled in the Worlds Edge Mountains and not Norsca.  He would kill this Chaos Dwarf and watch the other burn it was only fitting he thought to him self after all he had been the victor in over twenty Trial by Combats.  As the Boyar and the knight argued he stared at the Dwarf trying to ascertain his weakness.  That he towered over the Dwarf was to his advantage.  The Dwarf stood there quietly drinking all but ignoring him, the light wind brought the heady strong aroma of alcohol and he smiled wickedly.  He looked how the Dwarf is armed, his surcoat which is quartered offsetting red and green with a rampant Drakk superimposed over mountain design in the center of the surcoat.  From what Vladimir could tell, the Dwarf is wearing a breastplate attached to a chainmail hauberk that hung to the knee, upper arms protected by demi-brassart and elbow guards, lower legs and knees protected by greviere and knee guards.  The dark green leather gloves had very small articulated chainmail rings that protected the back of the Dwarves hands and fingers. Even the boots are armored front and back.  All the armor looked to be in good repair but old.  Even the Dwarf looked old, his long dirty grey and white beard is neatly combed and braided into several plaits and held in place with numerous gold beard rings.  The beard is so long that it could have been tread upon if it had not been tucked into the Dwarf’s belt.  The Dwarf’s hair that stuck out from beneath the helm is braided into a single plait that hung off the left side.  The Dwarf appeared old, looked tired as well as a heavy drinker, just an old warrior that is all but worn out.  Even the Dwarf’s weapon scabbard which hung across his back looked worn out, as he observed the stained bone-white-handle of a two handed sword sticking up over the helm.  The scabbard is of a dull-green leather that is cracked and peeling and Vladimir wondered if the blade was nicked and rusty.  He doubted that this Dwarf even knew how to use a sword for everyone knew Dwarves fought only with warhammers and axes.  Vladimir wondered where this Dwarf had found the sword, perhaps on some forgotten battlefield. 

 

It was almost as if the Dwarf had heard his thought for suddenly the Dwarf casually drew the sword with one hand as he drank, it shimmered as Drazhgrund lifted it towards the morning sun, a rainbow of colors played along the blade, sending red, yellow, blue, purple and green fire dancing along its razor sharp edge.  Suddenly Vladimir shouted something at him, whether it was Roppsmann or Ungol Drazhgrund had no idea as he continued to drink ignoring Vladimir.  Vladimir stalked toward him raising his sword.  Drazhgrund watched him over the rim of his tankard.  Vladimir swung his sword down but suddenly Drazhgrund was not the there.  His hard swung sword rang on the stones of the courtyard sending sparks toward the dry f.a.g.o.t.s stacked against the stone pillar.

 

Drazhgrund, only a few feet away placed his tankard next to the keg on the first step leading up to the stone pillar and Logan as Vladimir turned quickly and swung another strike at him.  Drazhgrund parried and his own sword rang like a Morr temple bell sending forth a sound that reminded the crowd of a death knell.  A few in the crowd gasped and clutch what ever religious icon that they thought would protect them.

 

The gathered spectators noted that neither of the champions carried a shield.  Vladimir apparently wanted to swing his sword with both hands as he methodically began to hunt Drazhgrund down.  Every time Vladimir struck at Drazhgrund he either missed or his strike is parried.  At first, despite his inability to land a blow, Vladimir seemed to have things his own way.  He pursued Drazhgrund relentlessly.  The crowd and the knights parted to let them pass, some of the crowd, are making wagers to see how long it took for Vladimir to catch and kill the Dwarf.

 

The fight swayed one way or the other then began moving away from Logan to the other side of the courtyard then back towards Logan as the two fought almost at his feet.  Drazhgrund kept making Vladimir miss.  The morning’s light breeze stiffened and began to start blowing harder as the sun climbed higher into the sky.  Logan watched Drazhgrund his sweat was only a light sheen on his exposed skin where as Vladimir was sweating so heavily he dripped from his chin and hands.  As the sun reached its zenith Logan began to see that Drazhgrund appears to be slowing down.  Vladimir’s strikes are getting closer and closer.  But each time the shimmering Rhun sword turned them, sometimes when Vladimir seemed within a hair of killing or crippling Drazhgrund.  Each time Drazhgrund’s sword would aim its ringing cry of death at Vladimir.  And each time it spoke, it struck.  At first, only a shallow cut or two on Vladimir’s arm nothing really; scratches only on an Umgi Vladimir’s size.  But then Logan realized Vladimir is leaving a trail of blood that grew thicker as the fight progressed.

 

For just a moment Logan took his eyes away from the combatants and looked around.  The heat was becoming hotter his thirst unbearable, in part because the sun is beating down on the exposed stone surfaces of the courtyard and in part because of the packed bodies of the crowd watching the battle.  The courtyard is packed.  Umgi filled every nook and cranny of the flat, open space.  Spectators covered the rooftops of every building.  All porches and balconies are filled.  Street peddlers sold Kvass, bread, pastries of all kind; none was here when the bailiff chained him to the post.

 

Logan’s attention is jerked away by a loud shout from the crowd.  Drazhgrund had been tripped.  He saw Drazhgrund falling, Vladimir struck quickly but Drazhgrund rolled into the Umgi that intentionally tripped him.  The Umgi fell over Drazhgrund’s back, and Vladimir’s sword cut the Umgi nearly in half.

 

The crowd scattered, leaving Drazhgrund, Vladimir, and the corpse in the open space.  The sun had moved from directly overhead.  Clouds began rolling in from the Sea of Claws.  They were thick and dark with bright edges and the sky is nearly covered.  The wind picked up, causing everyone’s clothing flap.  Logan caught the scent of rain on the wind.

 

Even the most fanatical in the crowd did not have the strength to cheer or scream insults any longer.  They followed the fight as silently as the two combatants.   Vladimir driving Drazhgrund before him, round, and round the courtyard, trying to exhaust him.  Drazhgrund mercilessly inflicting a new wound on each pass metal links from Vladimir’s armor littered the courtyard.   At last, they ended where they began, in front of Logan.

 

The Boyar judge, the bailiff, and the knight stood there.  They had waited all day long, and now everyone hopes that the combat has finally reached its conclusion as the sun starts dipping below the horizon.  Vladimir is a mass of blood.  Logan looking at him could hardly believe he is still living.  His clothing is soaked with gore that seeps from his rent armor with every beat of his heart.  Everything is smeared with blood.  When he pauses, pools of sticky red blood drip from nearly every surface.

 

The two had been fighting nearly all day long and Logan looks at Drazhgrund and sees that he appears exhausted.  His surcoat has been sweat soaked and dried, then soaked again numerous times throughout the day.  Dried salt glistens in the fading light.  Every time Drazhgrund parries Vladimir’s strikes, his moves seem more slow.  Vladimir and Drazhgrund circled each other, both looking almost to weary to attack.  In the distance Logan hears a drumbeat or was it thunder and lightening heralding the approaching rain storm.  A deep hush filled the square as Vladimir steps back; suddenly he gave a roar like an enraged bear and charges Drazhgrund much like he did at the start of the combat.  Only this time when Drazhgrund stepped aside he did not block or parry Vladimir’s strike.  Instead he struck the razor sharp edge cleanly severing both of Vladimir’s arms at the elbows and continued on links of chainmail clattering to the courtyard followed by his sword still being tightly clutched. The headless corpse momentarily continues its charge then collapses into a widening pool of blood.  There is a sharp cry from the crowd as Vladimir’s severed head bounces across the paving stones to stop at the Judge’s feet.   A shocked express on both the Boyar Mikari’s and Vladimir’s face can be plainly seen.  Drazhgrund flicks his sword free of blood and sheaths his weapon.  He reaches down and picks up the fallen sword, and held it by the pummel and the tip in his armored hands; his arms and shoulders flex and in one quick motion he snapped the dead champion’s sword and drops the two halves to the ground.  The crowd is stunned no longer is anyone chanting for Vladimir.  

 

“You could have slain him sooner,” Logan rasped, his throat is dry as he turned his head toward the sky to swallow some rain. 

 

Drazhgrund walked over to the stone pillar reached down and picked up his keg and filled his tankard then drank deeply.  “No, I could not, they” and he pointed toward the gate “had not yet arrived.”    

 

A strong wind fills the sky above the courtyard with thick, ebony clouds; lightning flashes illuminates the growing darkness followed by deafening thunder.  But it was not all thunder, it had a cadence and a drum beat as over one hundred heavily armored and armed Dawi marched through the gates into the courtyard.  The knight turned to the Boyar Mikari Novosi and spoke, “You are under arrest for treason against the Prince of Erengrad and his ally, King Grindol Florinson of Kraka Draka.”  The knight looked down at the head of Vladimir, “You will be in need of a champion yourself before this night is over.”  Then he turned to the bailiff and ordered the chains removed from the kinsman of the King of Kraka Draka and placed upon the Boyar.  Then it began to rain and the heavy down pour soon soaked the dry f.a.g.o.t.s ".

 

*

 

Note:  To be continued.... Have a drink on by tab....   

 

On a side note it seems that the censor does not like the old english term of f.a.g.o.t meaning a bundle of wood.  It always amazes me how good old fashioned words are corrupted by todays society.  I remember when it was all right to B.u.m. a f.a.g.o.t  meaning to bum or beg a cigerate....  Anyway please do not take offense to the proper meaning of the words I have used and not the PC words of todays society. 

 

 


Edited by Skull Krusher, 16 February 2014 - 03:30 AM.


#375 Skull Krusher

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Posted 17 February 2014 - 04:15 AM

Kraka Draka - Part Three Hundred Nine (309)

 

Note:  Continuation from the last post....

 

*

 

Skalli had just finished his reading, and somehow knowing the truth about the rumor did not satisfy him.  Now he wondered what became of Logan Grundbarson that perhaps was the heart of the rumor.  Finding information about Logan would be easier though he doubted he would find that Kron in this section of the archives and would only be found in the royal Kalan archive.  But he wondered about the sword for Skalli had never seen or heard of such a Rhun sword in the hands of a Lord Drazhgrund and it made him wonder, was it a lost Umgi Rhunfang some how recovered by the Patriarch.  He also wondered if that sword was still here in Kraka Draka something else to research.

 

The chain connecting the Kron to the shelf rattled as Skalli Skorrison slowly closed the Kron, he hoped the noise it made as he re-shelved the Kron was not heard, but he was wrong, Hugnir Skalfson, Patriarch of Kalan Karangaz and Rhun-Rik of Kraka Draka stood in the open doorway and behind Karangaz Patriarch stood Dorin “Talon” Moreksnev.   Rhun-Rik Hugnir had a nagging suspicion about this distantly related kin whom could trace kinship through three different marriages between Kalan Karangaz and the royal Kalan of Durazklad.  As Hugnir stood watching Skalli Skorrison he ran through the young Dawi’s lineage in his mind.  Skalli’s bloodlines came through the marriage between Zylra Bjornhilddottier, daughter of the 3rd Queen Bjornhild “Chaos Bane” Hildadottier and Belegar Brokkson.  Then again between Morga Bredadottier, niece of 18th Queen of Kraka Draka Magda Trunnidottier and Snorri Norgramson and finally through the marriage of Stromni Yorrison and Derna Lenkadottier whose mother was 41st Queen of Kraka Draka.  All three married a Rhunki of Kalan Karangaz.  Skalli’s royal blood is intertwined with the Kalan Karangaz and as Hugnir knew so well all Rhunki come from one widely distributed Kalan and only those who could trace their descendents back to Grungni’s son, Thungni have the ability to sense, use, and create Rhuns.  Hugnir Skalfson decided that he would petition Lord Drazhgrund and King Thorinson of Kalan Durazklad to hold a joint Gangovr ceremony.  It was high time that Skalli laid aside the trappings of a King’s Ranger and began training as a Rhunki.

 

*        *        *

 

Note:  Hope you liked this short fluff about the citizens of Kraka Draka ... My take on listening to rumors and I just realized that this thread has over 40,000 views more than any one elses story.... Wow...

 

 



#376 Skull Krusher

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Posted 01 March 2014 - 05:22 PM

Kraka Draka - Part Three Hundred Ten (310)

 

Note:  The origins of this next tale can be laid at the feet of G.W.'s latest Dwarf Codex when they mentioned that capitol of Kraka Draka's main competition came from a small Dawi Village...  anyway here goes and besure to have a tankard on ale on my tab... 

 

 

The village of Khazid Ravik sits high above the headwaters of an unnamed unremarkable tributary that feeds into a fjord called Taldursfjord which itself is located on the North North West coast of Norsca.  Ravik is also at the tail-end of a long  dangerous Drin that starts at Kraka Draka heading west through Icicle Pass then heads south from Grung Kuldungor to end at the village gates only after climbing over one thousand feet of Drin that zig-zag up the side of a sheer cliff.  Of the eighty-seven Dawi Vithang who call Khazid Ravik home, few Vithang who are not overly bold have ever made the long overland trek to Grung Kuldungor and even fewer have used that Drin to reach the capitol, Kraka Draka.  Only Dawi Rangers regularly make that long journey and they only entered Khazid Ravik through those gates when there is a need to be resupplied during their long patrols.  There is a far safer way to Khazid Ravik and that is via a secondary shipping channel that is connected to the main Ungruvalk.  The journey utilizing the side shipping channel will take the traveler through forty sets of locks that raised the vessel up to the next level of the voyage along a dimly lighted channel that heads north into the heart of Norsca and ends at the loading dock in an underground lake cavern just beneath Khazid Ravik high above the headwaters of that unnamed tributary.

 

For those few Dawi who are Khazukan a hall dweller who never leave hearth and kin then how to get to or from Khazid Ravik is a moot point.  The majority of the population of Khazid Ravik is made up of representatives of four clans belonging to two guilds whose main guild house is located in Kraka Draka; the Metal Smith Guild Kalan Zharrheart and Kalan Burrdrik and the Jewel Smith Guild Kalan Kaznagar and Kalan Goldbeard for the wealth of the Khazid is in metalworking and gems.  The rest of the Dawi population is from the Warriors Guild made up of a contingent of Ironbreakers who guard the gates, the locks, and the tow-paths of the Ungruvalk from Khazid Ravik all the way to Kraka Draka and the ports of Draksfjord on the Sea of Claws and Sjoktraken on the south coast of the Frozen Sea, and Vithang sailors who belong to Kalan Varrgrund who are in-charge of the vessels that traveled the Ungruvalk. 

 

*

 

 Note:  As aways to be continued and have another ale


Edited by Skull Krusher, 01 March 2014 - 05:24 PM.


#377 Skull Krusher

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Posted 05 March 2014 - 05:01 AM

Kraka Draka - Part Three Hundred Eleven(311)

Note: Continuation from last post and have a tankard or two on my tab.


*

In frustration Ori Kilison entered his quarters in the guild house tossed his helm and several sacks upon the table, a one small leather one that landed with a loud resounding thud that only gold can make and a second one which is much larger than the first that hit with a wet splat; the other two he still held onto as he wondered what he was going to do. He had just made the dangerous round-trip from mines of Kuldungor in order to secure trade agreements with the Mining guild. He was a Jewel Smith not a warrior even though as required by Kazgar Bradnison, his Guild Master Ori regularly took weapons training and on occasion sparred with the Ironbreakers. Ori looked down at his chainmail that covered his padded leather jerkin both ruined beyond repair as he surveyed the gaping holes that are the result of acid that dissolved anything where ever it hit. His helm had so many small holes caused by the acid that it is worthless now unless the cooks wanted to use it as a colander. Ori had jumped under one of the many small waterfalls that splashed down upon the Drin to neutralize the acid before it could reach and dissolve his skin as it was his travel pack and blanket-roll had been totally destroyed. Ori had gotten off light considering the alternative as he thought about the unlucky Boki and Ranger that he had been traveling with; Ori and the others survived they had not. Ori looked towards the larger bag that is stained with blood, now he has his own Nogarung.

*

To be continuted....

#378 Skull Krusher

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Posted 17 March 2014 - 02:30 AM

Kraka Draka - Part Three Hundred twelve (312)

Note: Continuation from previous post....

*

It has been nearly a month since his return from Grung Kuldungor and in that time Karl Brinsson whose father is the thane of Tanner Guild had helped Ori peel the hide away and for curing. That skin alone would become a drawstring pouch that would be as near indestructible as the Rock-troll had been. Since it had been Ori who had killed the Rock-troll he received the spoils of victory; the skull and the hide. Ori had to contact several different guild houses in Kraka Draka to purchase the services to acquire what he wanted starting with the Tanner Guild. He had negotiated with the Taylor Guild for the drawstring pouch and a work apron with pockets for his delicate tools, calumet, and tobacco and the Cobbler Guild for a pair of stout Rock-troll klad-boots. Those guilds would receive the rest of the hide to do as they want. The Rangers wanted select portions for Kulgur but there is an art to cooking Troll and Ori had no desire to cook and eat a dish of Rock-troll that not to long ago wanted to tear him from limb to limb not to mention spewing acid as it attacked. While those work orders are being processed Ori had to place an order for new chainmail and new padded leather armor made from the hide of the Rock-troll from Kalan Ironshirt of the Armor Guild; who would have thought that a single trip to Grung Kuldungor would end up costing him so much. At least the armor which had been ruined had not been a priceless heirloom from his ancestors and most of the cost for new chain mail and leather would be off-set by giving the guilds the left over Rock-troll hide, and a few jewelry commissions except it just seemed that there just was not enough time in day. Perhaps he needed to stop by the Blackhawk for a tankard or two the making of silver wire could wait.

*


To be continued.

Edited by Skull Krusher, 22 March 2014 - 03:41 AM.


#379 Skull Krusher

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Posted 22 March 2014 - 03:45 AM

Kraka Draka - Part Three Hundred thirteen (313)

Note: Continuation from previous post....

*

The elder Master Jewel-Smith, Thane Vanyra Sigrundottier looked across the work-room. From the vantage point of her work-bench that is one level above the rest so she could oversee the guildhouse workshop. Vanyra seldom had to intrude for everyone that work in Khazid Ravik Jewel Smith Guild are considered Master Jewel Smiths of their respective Kalans and needed little or no advise. All the journeyman and apprentices trained and worked under the watchful eyes of the Guild Master, Kazgar Bradnisson at the main guild house of Kraka Draka. The Guild Master and the Kalan elders of both Kalan are the sole arbitrators on whether a Dawi passed from apprentice to journeyman and onto master, the piece of jewelry had to pass their judgment or no promotion. Some Dawi spend years just learning to sculpt in wax order to learn lost-wax casting of either gold or silver jewelry. Since there is only two Jewel Smith Kalans there is a healthy rivalry between the Kalans Kaznagar and Goldbeard when it came to fabricating the best and most intricate and Thane Vanyra showed no favorites even amongst her own Kalan. Though Vanyra showed no favorites she is somewhat worried about Ori Kilisson. Of the twenty Jewel-Smiths in the guild-house work shop of Khazid Ravik only Ori seemed distracted. Vanya looked towards Ori’s empty workbench and did not have to ask where he was, she knew.

Ori slowly raised his head and looked through caked lashes, across the room full of shifting smoke that settles upon still shapes. The heavy fumes of last night’s rivalry still wound through and clogged his senses. A noise and he looked again, a one-armed, peg-legged former warrior cleaned the floors that are soaked with the dregs from broken tankards and spewed gullets. But all that disappeared as the walls of the Blackhawk seemed to fling back the memories of the ambush, some are illusionary, and yet clearly seen, and yet far away; hard and confusing. Ori felt broken and scarred. A metalic-stained dirty-broken finger-nail tapped the surface of the table and Ori again raised his head and saw not the shifting smoke but Thane Vanyra Sigrundottier standing on the other side of the table.

“Ori, Ori, Ori,” Vanyra said as she stood there looking at him.

 

“Thane Sigrundottier there is no need to get all worked up, the silver wire work-order is done” Ori muttered, his voice sounding tired and he had every right to be as he thought over the last month. “I have a spool of silver wire in my vault,” Ori groaned laying his head back down on the table. The process of making gold or silver wire is time consuming and exhausting at least silver had a lower melting point.  Several Boki from Grung Kuldungor had provided more than enough casting-grain silver for what he needed and he kept his source of this pure silver a secret.  Once he was sure that any impurities had been removed that may have contaminated the silver casting-grain when he traveled back from the Grung he heated the grains.  Once they were in a clump and while still soft Ori using a rolling-block rolled it back and forth across a heated metal-plate adding more soft clumps of silver until he had a long roll of silver thinner than a Dawi child’s little finger.  The trick he learned was to keep the silver red-hot and using a pair of tongs he placed the end between multiple sets of metal-rollers that flattened the roll of silver till it was like a maiden’s hair ribbon.  Keeping the thin ribbon hot and to keep it running between the rollers four or five times till he got the desired thickness was tedious.  Once he had the proper thickness he carefully heated the long narrow flat strip of silver till it was slightly red and then letting it cool slowly.

Using his bench clamp to secure a drawing plate which had holes drilled in it at various diameters from large to small, Ori then with a sharp pair of scissors he trimmed his flat silver-ribbon to a point then placed the pointy end into one of the holes of the drawing plate.  Using a pair of tongs he pulled the silver through the drawing plated which turned the flat silver roll of ribbon into wire.  Ori kept running the wire through smaller and smaller holes until he had the desired size.  He had to keep the silver wire from getting to brittle and breaking so he had to slowly heat it again and letting it cool before pulling in through the drawing plate’s next smallest hole thus making the wire thinner and thinner.

 

The whole process of turning either gold or silver into wire is the same but it is a hot labor-intensive, time consuming process that every skilled Jewel-Smith learned during his apprentice time.  It just did not get any easier no matter if you are a Master Jewel-Smith or an apprentice.  At least there is no spoilage since if anything that is ruined just got melted down into ingots and you started over again.  When all was said and done he had over forty feet of silver wire upon the spool ready to be woven or braided into a neck or arm torc with a gemstone mounted on either end or if a Weapons-Smith wanted a spool of wire to finished a weapon haft since most hafts were leather wrapped then wrapped with either gold or silver wire
 

 

 

Note: To be continued and if your thirsty from sitting before the forge making wire have a drink on my tab.


Edited by Skull Krusher, 30 March 2014 - 01:23 AM.


#380 Skull Krusher

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Posted 30 March 2014 - 01:29 AM

Kraka Draka - Part Three Hundred Fourteen (314)

 

Note: Continuation from previous post

 

But elder Master Jewel-Smith, Thane Vanyra Sigrundottier did not seem to care that he had completed the silver wire order.  Vanyra had known some Khazukan Jewel-Smiths and Ori was not a Khazukan, but the last trip to Grung Kuldungor had made him just a bit Zaki.  To Vanyra, Ori looked weary and not just from the tedious work of fabricating silver wire and decided that the weary Jewel-Smith would be the ideal choice.

 

She had no sooner sat down on opposite him than Gerta Fredadottier, the wife of Dori, and Yori Yannisson who waited on the tables as her husbands cooked the meals and poured the drinks that the patrons of the Blackhawk appeared at their table.  “Kvinn Vanyra what can I get you” Gerta asked as she pointed to the stone slate on the wall where today’s fare is listed, not that it changed all that much.

 

Looking over at Ori whose head was once again resting upon the table she noticed that there are no tankards in front of him; Vanyra glanced at Gerta, “Bring two tankards, two bowls, a pot of Salmi stew, two loaves of bread, and a wheel of Pinsk cheese.”  As Gerta went to the kitchen to get the food, Vanyra took a spoon out of one of her pockets, breathed on it and began polishing it till the silver reflected the light from the candle.  “Ori” she said in a loud voice, “wake up and pay attention to what I have to say.”

 

Ori raised his head and smelled the food that was being brought to the table and the thought of food made him realized that he had not eaten since before the silver wire project and he was starving.  With shaking hands Ori removed from the pockets of his work apron a set of eating utensils that shared the same pocket as his calumet.  He stuck each one in his mouth to moisten them, then with a rag that had seen cleaner days cleaned each one off before setting them down.  Gerta returned with a large tray of food followed by one of her husbands who brought two full tankards of ale, “Thane Vanyra, this is two-year old White-Drakk Ale from the Duraz Wytryth Brewery.  Thane Sundrim Ketilson the Brew-master of Kalan Steinhammer says it has a subtle taste to it, let me know what you think,” Yori Yannisson said as he returned to the bar.

 

Both Jewel-Smiths took a cautious sip and Vanyra gave a thumbs-up towards the bar and signaled for an immediate refill as she drank her tankard dry, Ori smiled knowing that the thane like most any ale. As Yori charged her tankard Vanrya told Ori why she came looking for him.  “Guild-Master Thurgrom Thyksnev of Clan Ironhand would like to hire a Jewel-Smith, are you interested?”

 

Note:  To be continued.... Have a non IPA tankard of White-Drakk ale on my tab...

 

 

 






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