20th of Avechary, 56 years after the coming of Estarra: the Krokani have spotted
countless strangers wandering their lands in the southern mountains and are
growing evermore suspicious of what the future has in store for them.

9th of Dvarsh, 56 years after the coming of Estarra: First contact is made
between the Krokani race and the other beings of the basin. A small band of
Magnagoran recruiters insisted that the Krokani warriors joined their army to
serve the taint. All present refused the offer without second thoughts.

17th of Tzarin, 56 years after the coming of Estarra: The outraged empire of
Magnagora decided that discipline was what the Krokani deserved for refusing to
enlist. Three groups of Ur’guard were sent to ransack a few Krokani
settlements to show Magnagora’s iron fist.

2nd of Klangiary, 56 years after the coming of Estarra: The Krokani have
suffered many great losses among themselves after the raid from Magnagora’s
battalions upon their settlements and decide to push back. An assault on the
temporary Magnagoran encampment that has been positioned north of the moors on
the great southern highway had been crudely organized and would take place
tonight.

That night: the old and wise would sit round campfires telling the young daring
tales of brave ancestors who fought the largest of monsters and slew the most
dastardly of villains. They threw ashes from those campfires to add a dazzling
display to their tall tales. They enticed the young minds in ways only the old
knew of. This night was different then those, the ashes were smeared on our
faces and the tall tale was us.

Glancing at every shadow I trotted along the great southern highway with fear
that a creature from an old tale would jump out at me and devour me whole. The
fear constantly picked away at my morale-being, and diminished all hopes of my
surviving this night.

There were thirty of us; all well muscled one-eyed Krokani for there is no such
thing as a Krokani with two eyes. We wore leather armour padded by cloths to
reduce noise; we wielded our traditional weapons, large clubs. They were
gripped tightly for they were our only lifelines that could be relied upon in
these times.

Lurking in the shadows and making as little noise as thirty Krokani can in
utter silence we rushed through the scenery. It seemed to have been days that
we’d ran this road but it had only been hours. The sun’s warmth was still
hidden from the land but wouldn’t be for much longer; we had to hurry if we
wanted the element of surprise.

“We have arrived,” whispered an older warrior who led the troop.

“Separate into ye groups, just like we planned”.

“All ready? Ok we are goin into that there camp of…” he stopped and
pondered what he was supposed to say having completely forgotten the fine
details of this mission.

“Magnagora” coughed another warrior.

“Aye that is a Magnagoran camp”. He pointed towards the dark silhouettes of
canvas tents close by.

“We’ll be attackin it for the sake of the people, our people. They have
slain ya relatives without sympathy. May ye clubs crush the bones of all in thy
way! Now Attack! Quietly ah coarse”

Three groups of ten Krokani a-piece shuffled through the rows of tents subduing
the isolated guards silently. My group had taken a road heading west towards the
largest of tents for we hoped to take its inhabitants most unawares.

The clanking of armour and yells were heard from the east a group had been
discovered. We rounded a corner and were face to face with twenty short and
drowsy soldiers. “KILL!” ordered the leader. I charged the guards along
side my fellow Krokani. I swung my club at an Orclach’s head to be satisfied
with knocking his scale helm off and viciously backhanding him with the same
blow. “ONE”. Another lunged at me from the left I fell to the ground
avoiding the sword barely and jabbed at his ankles, shattering them and
immobilizing him for another to finish off.

A tougher Krokani who I recognized as my own mentor was being overwhelmed by
five of the soldiers. I rushed over to the fray and threw all my weight onto
two soldiers sending them flying with my colossus weight. A blood-curdling
scream met my ears as I looked up just in time to see a bloody heap of a
soldier being thrown by my brute of a mentor. The corpse landed neatly in a
blazing campfire.

“Damn it! There’s too many! Fall back to the main road we’ll kill em all
there.

Two Krokani had been overwhelmed by the odds but their weapons were quickly
gathered and used in counter the soldier’s sudden push forward.

We backed down towards the road seeking refuge in numbers. My group greeted by
what remained of our party, fending off an almost endless stream of soldiers.
One group had lost four and another six either way the losses were high.

“Light as many tents as yaw can! Make em scared! Make em scream!”

I took the tinder and prepared torches that had been tucked in my belt and set
them alight. One guard was getting too close, I swung at his sword arm and
cleanly broke it causing him to drop his weapons and look at me with fear I met
his eyes they were filled with tears of sorrow that only a dieing man could
shed. “TWO” he fell as blood flowed down his brow.

I threw my torch hurriedly into a canvas tent and watched as it became engulfed
in my flames. Two Ur’guard more were on me now, hatred in their eye’s for
what I had just done to there comrade. The first jabbed me lightly tapping my
armour with his long charred sword the second grabbed me from behind and tried
to hold me still for his partner to get a clean stab at my face. With my huge
hand I reached over my shoulder and grabbed the restraining guard by the scruff
of his scale armour and heaved him in front of me blocking the blow. A bloody
blade came through his back as he gurgled in my arms. “Damn it I cant stands
this any more!” I held the dead guard above my head -he was human- and threw
his impaled corpses into the burning tent. His stunned partner turned heels and
ran.

Pausing to watch the chaos around me I saw men die from the brute force of my
Krokani brethren and my own kin killed by the soldier’s sharp steel and
massive numbers. But one thing was sure we had turned the tables. Soldiers were
fleeing into the woods around us attempting to get away from the wrath of a
giants club. “Push onward my friends! May they not escape!” surging onwards
we ran down the soldiers ruthlessly overcome by the bloodlust of battle.
“THREE” I crushed an Orclach’s head with my club spraying gore on my arms
and face. “FOUR” I kicked a small human into a burning tent only to hear his
screams.

“Kill them my demon! Kill them all!” a hissing could be heard from the
midst of the remaining soldiers probably from the mouth of a Nihilist as a ten
foot tall Archdemon stood up towering above the heads of the troops.

“Archdemon!” get its head” boomed my mentor.

He lunged high up into the air raising his club above his head only to be
thrown aside by the demons massive hands, he fell to the ground as a fountain
of blood flowed from his body and landed with a sickening crunch. He wasn’t
dead but soon would be. I felt the adrenaline combine with the bloodlust,
sorrow and rage and was soon overcome by my anger. Dismissing all thought of
failure I leapt high into the air and dove for the demons shoulder. My hand
grabbed tight and I swung myself over to his back. The demon shook violently
attempting to shake me off. With a desperate motion I swung my club across his
neck and grabbed the end other end, dangling precariously and slowly strangling
it at the same time I clung on for dear life.

“FIVE” The life slowly faded from the demon and it began a slow backwards
fall. The heat of a blazing tent met my back as I fell with my opponent into
the inferno. I screeched with pain as I heaved the beast off of me and rolled
for safety.

The battle had ended; dead soldiers littered the ground along side the Krokani
I had grown up with. Apart from the rest was a crumpled head lying beneath a
great willow; it could only be my mentor. My back tore at me with constant
surges of pain matching my every movement and breath. Luckily my determination
was still intact and I slowly crawled over to the heap.

His eye was a slit and he bled from multiple wounds along with his shattered
arms and legs he had somehow survived for this moment.
“Lord… Khoark?”
“Yes, my… protégé? He was in agony and waiting for death.
“Master… what happened? Tears leaked out of my great eye and stained my
charred face.
He broke into a violent coughing fit which would have been unbearably painful
because of his wounds and then said “you are the one to lead us now, lead us
all well…” with those words said the slit closed and he went limp. I
watched through bleary eyes as the large forms of my fellow warriors grouped
around the corpse. I then passed out from sheer exhaustion.

I dreamt of peaceful things like food and drinks that warmed ones body, of
jokes and laughter that soothed tension, I dreamt of peace that spread over the
land my mind told me this would never be but I still cherished the moment.
Slowly I opened my eye. Light flooded the room around me, it was a luxurious
room fitted with pelts of animal fur for the comfortable carpets. I lied in a
lush bed, something I had never experienced as an orphan.

My parents died when I was young leaving me with only an uncle. He also died a
tragic death from falling off a mountain cliff while harvesting rare herbs soon
after the death of my beloved parents. I traveled to Paavik in seek of my own
race and people who would and give me refuge. There I met lord Khoark. He
sheltered me and brought me up under his watchful eye.

I was forced to train hard by his side, learning how to fight and to defend.
This proceeded for ten years until I was equal to my mentors might. He was
proud of me and often boasted to other warriors about his young protégé. I
was by his side when he was given the title of lord which he proudly accepted.
The assault was to be my first real combat encounter, I was trained well.

“Sir?” I turned my head to see a Krokani guard’s head pocking in through
the door.
“Aye” I replied in a horse voice.
“Thank god yer alright lord I didn’t think ya’d make it, with the burns
an all”
The memories of the past night flooded back to me with such ferocity that I
moved to leap out of bed but was greeted by my battle wounds.
“Aiee!” I screeched as my tore screamed with pain.
“Gah! Lay still sir yer still not healed!”
The pain overwhelmed me and once again I passed out.

I became the crippled lord that all loved for my past heroics. They all looked
up at me even though I would never fight another day. I told the young the tall
tales that the elders had told me only with more relish. Years passed and my
beard turned grey and my arms grew weak. The thought of one day being lord had
never occurred to me and I always felt out of place as one since it was so
foreign to me to have followers.

I slept in my bed dreaming nightmares of that horrific night. My window creaked
open. I did not stir. The floor boards creaked loudly under the weight of the
assassin. I did not stir. It trod to the side of my bed. I still did not stir.
A knife was lifted high into the air glimmering with moon light and then fell
down piercing my chest with a silent motion. I would never stir again.
“ONE” it whispered.

Proudly writen by Sir Karrack Braydar, Disciple of the Dawn