Tale of Aghar the Dwarf. Part 1 of ?

This is a little story that I just wrote as a backstory for my Rat-catcher character in the WarHammer RPG, how many more parts there will be is completely dependent on what the GM needs. So yeah, it could be stand alone, or it could turn into a series, if a series it does become, I think it will focus primarily on the main events of this young dwarfs life.

Enjoy.

The illustrious tale of Aghar the Dwarf

Aghar was born the first son of Firenminson, a sewer-scraper in Karak Hirn. They lived on the outskirts of the great dwarven stronghold among the other less glorious dwarves. Aghars father hadn't always been a sewer-scraper, there was a time in his long life, so he said, when he was as ballsy a soldier as could be found in all the marshaled forces of the Bandag clan. Aghar never knew the cause for his fathers fall from glory, he never asked, or maybe he did and his father never said, or maybe he did and Aghar just forgot. In any case Aghar grew up among other less fortunate dwarven children with little knowledge of the world outside the alleys an sewers of Karak Hirn.

One day when Aghar was about 22 years of age his neighbourhood was invaded by the shining and clanking forms of the Bandag clan recruitment officers. The sight of all the finely armoured warriors and muscle-bound tattooed berserkers was enough itself to send Aghar into a faint, his mind reeling with shiny new ideas. And as soon as the priest began recalling stories of the heroics and great deeds done by famous dwarven forefathers nothing could budge Aghar from his spot listening to the tales for days. Indeed it was days until someone told him he was eligible to sign up for the military and his eyes glazed over in wonder. It didn't take him long to build up the courage to approach the recruitment tents set up in the small market square, for courage and idiocy are sometimes synonyms, and in Aghars case he was filled to the brim.

As Aghar prepared to take some rudimentary reflexes and skills tests he grinned and looked around at the crowd. Off at the edge he noticed that his father stood watching, a proud look on his dirty face. Aghar grinned even wider, his short beard bristling oddly, and gripped the wooden practice mallet. What followed cannot be blamed solely on Aghar,it could be said his father never took an interest in teaching him the basics of armed combat, or also that he may have tapped into a latent berserker ability and went with what was most familiar to him. Regardless of the cause, a young dwarf flailing wildly with his fists and foaming at the mouth opposing a seasoned sergeant quickly makes himself a fool in the eyes of all present. "He has enthusiasm, and the cleanliness of our sewers shall be eternal proof of that." said the head recruitment officer.

It was a few days until the swelling in his eyes receded enough that he could make his way home, and when he arrived he found his father home, drinking heavily. For the next few weeks he got used to the presence of his drunken father in the home when he should have been out at work. To give Firenminson credit he never took out his disappointment on his son or his wife. Instead, he took down his old warhammer from its place above the small mantle and in drunken rages would sometimes pound great holes in the walls of the house until he passed out. Aghar simply adjusted to the change in environment and stayed out of the house more often, he felt some sense of guilt that his fathers behavior may have been linked to him, but the reality of the situation never really sank in.

A few weeks later as Aghar was leaving the house his mother called to him to go down to the well and fetch some water because his father was suffering from fever. He took the clay jug and headed off to the nearest well. On the way, however, he noticed a strange looking lizard clinging to the tunnel wall. In the last few weeks or so Aghar had gotten used to hanging out by himself and finding things to occupy his time since nearly all the young dwarves his age had left with the recruitment officers. So when he saw this lizard he wanted to catch it so it'd keep him company, he tried, and it moved further up the wall, but he was persistent and spent the next three hours on his lizard hunt. In the end he finally caught it by throwing a fist sized rock at it's head. No longer able to provide companionship Aghar stuffed the dead reptile into his trouser pocket and looked around. He had no idea where he was, and he was hungry. So he went about finding himself some grub, it wasn't as easy here, where the city pathways were kept clear of refuse and merchants were very watchful when he came by, but eventually he found some food and settled in the corner of an ally to feast.

After eating he fell asleep and only woke to raging alarm bells and the rushing quake of many booted feet. Getting up and moving to the end of his ally he observed dozens of groups of dwarven warriors rushing in one direction. He automatically moved to follow, still holding on to the clay water jug his mother had given him that morning. Though he tried to keep up, the warriors were much better trained and prepared than he, and soon outdistanced him. Aghar, not one to lose focus of something so fantastic so easily, kept up his pace as best he could. After about an hour he arrived at a scene of a recent battle. The injured were having their wounds tended to and there were groups taking care of the dwarven dead scattered throughout the bloody streets, but the majority of corpses belonged to creatures that Aghar had never seen or imagined in his life. They looked like scrawny dwarves, bent and twisted with black fur covering their bodies, gnarled fists and feet with sharp claws clutching at wicked hooked weapons, and horrific faces, like giant rats. Beady eyes stared unblinking at him from all directions and he thought he was going to be sick. He looked away from the battlefield and noticed that he recognized these buildings, he was near his house, very near.

Wanting to get away from the gruesome carnage before him, Aghar ran down the street toward his home. The situation was similar there, fewer dead creatures, and even fewer dead dwarven warriors, but many dead dwarves. He looked to his house, there was a pile of dead creatures in a pile in front of his door, and what appeared to be a dwarf trapped underneath. He rushed over and began hauling bodies off the dwarf, when he had exposed it he knew immediately that his father was dead. Bloody gashes crossed his face, and his jaw was almost removed, there was also a heavy barbed dart protruding from his belly. In his hands were the broken neck of a gut-rot bottle and his old warhammer, covered in dark blood. Aghar started to shed tears, and then looked farther into the dark and quiet house through the doorway where he stood. His mother was also disemboweled, lying amongst broken chairs with a large kitchen knife in her fist and a dead creature next to her on the floor.

Aghar turned away, tears now streaming down his face as he retrieved the warhammer from his fathers cold grasp. He stood up still weeping and hefted he hammer over his shoulder as he walked away down the street.

Final Fantasy Journal 4

Tali-ho,
It has been forever and more since I posted here. I have started a Yahoo group for the RPG guys to discuss stuff, and all of them are too lazy to read anything I write anyway. So this will probably be the last post for another long while. Mostly since the group has stopped playing right now, 8 players is a bit too much, even when they don't all make every week, and every week is a bit to often to plan a 6 person session.

I am also participating as a player in 3 other RPG's. A group of 'Magic: The Gathering CCG' players that I know from work has started a DnD campaign that meets about once a month, I'm a Half-Elf Wizard that will eventually cross-class to a Monk. Exciting. Then there is the WarHammer RPG, it's in lieu of Pat's L5R rpg that slowed down during kotei season, I'm a Dwaf Rat-catcher named Aghar (10 points if you understand that one) with only 23/100 Intelligence, I actually chose to be a rat-catcher. Lastly there is nother group of L5R guys that has started a RPG, I'm a Monk of Osano-Wo named Goro in that one, was thinking about being a Kenku (crow-person), but the GMs character is a Naga (snake-person) and would probably eat me.

So yeah, pretty busy lately. My first day off in three and a half weeks this Saturday, and guess what I'm doing? L5R rpg in the afternoon, and DnD in the evening! True to form I am The Geek.

Now on to what you have all been waiting for........ ::Looks around empty storage closet:: .......... The continued adventures of our ever-expanding Final Fantasy Party, I guess it is kinda staying true to FFVI.


Players

Telemic Rhade- Ronso Warrior- played by Nate.
Terissa Ju'nai- Human Rogue- also played by Nate.
Wawlimus Purtuk- Ronso Warrior- played by John.
Zaragos- Ronso Rogue- played by Brad.
Kenji- Human Warrior- played by Jeremy.
Ruggar- Moomba Rogue- played by Ferris.
????- Moogle Chemist- played by Aaron.
Rei- Were-Tiger Rogue-played by Mitch.
Morgoroth- Wood Elf Warrior- played by Chris.
Lorana- Wood Elf Archer- played by my lil sis, and later by me.

Ok, too many.

When we last left our insepid adventurers they had just wiped out a cluster of Imps and were resting, recovering their wind and allowing the imps plenty of time to organize, which doesn't say much.

The party just decides to charge straight up the middle, the imps camp is nestled in between two ridges that project from the skirt of a large grouping of mountains. As they move slightly up hill the remaining imps flee before them, squealing cries of fright before the bloodied blades of the heros. The hills close in on either side and then suddenly widen out agian, revealing the bulk of the imp encampment.

To the left Ruggar notices a large wooden cage containing three figures, but the rest of the party pays it no mind and charge the nearest group of disorganized imps, still wondering what the cry of alarm meant. Blood flies forth, imps, dead from the first stroke, fall to the bloodsoaked ground in peices. But again the party has a difficult time dealing with the Nakks that leap for their throats.

Meanwhile in the cage a Moogle, Human, and weretiger struggle to break free and join the fight, the Moogle tries to give out a telepathic cry for assistance, but the fighters are so enraged none heed it.

Telemic breaks free of the Nakks and charges forward again, seeking new foes. He is met then by better armed and armoured imps, the champions normally held in reserve. Three of the brutes engage him while another three charge past to engage his allies, trailing more Nakks. The fighting is severe, and the arrival of the Imp Champions encourages the remaining imps to turn back to the fight.

Frustrated beyond belief at the stupidity he sees before him, Rei struggles at the bars of the cage, trying to make his way into the fight. After some straining and use of his weretiger power he breaks the cage door off and slips away to find his weapons. They are located in a nearby tent and he brings the ones belonging to the Moogle and Terissa out to them. The Moogle grabs his trident and flies off into battle mixing a big banger on the way, and Terissa follows close behind with her bow.

Telemic, having dispatched two impa champions on his own moves to the third, but a few lucky blows from the imps club stun him, and a vicious lunge from a Nakk tears out his throat. He collapses to the ground just as Kenji moves up beside him to kill the Nakk. The other party members then finish off the remaining champion and the last straggling imps and look to their fallen comrade. Kenji reaches down and takes his katana, tucking into his belt, and walks away. Rei meanwhile has been slipping silently along the side of the camp and plans to take the imps unawares from the rear.

Having no time to bury their fallen friend the rest of the party follows Kenji, while the moogle and Terissa seek some privacy/treasure in a tent. Approaching the end of the camp and nearing the high mountains the party sees a terrible battle standard stuck into the ground, it is not scary, just terribly made, as if by a child with only two colors of paint, rust and brown. Before this standard, glaring menacingly at them in hideosly mismatched armour, is a fat, slobbery coal skinned imp. To his sides are at least 15 cowering imps wielding crude weapons and rocks.

And of course the group charges straight up the middle, cutting a path through the imp fodder to the main badguy. Every time an attack would hit him, however, he grabs one of the other imps to act as a shield, but soon after the battle starts he notices his supply of imp-shields is running low, and looks of to the side. There, with his weapons spinning in his hands stands Rei, methodically slaying imps with quick jabs to the throat eyeholes, earholes, noses etc. Soon the Imp Cheiftan is forced to fight fairly, and though it is a long and difficult fight, when the imp has fallen, all the party members still stand.

They then proceed to search the area for any treasure, don't find much except for a strangely well crafted signet ring on the fat imps finger, Ruggar is determined to wear the imps dilapitated armour, and strips the stinking body. While everone is busy talking and looting what isn't nailed down, the imp chieftan jumps up, looks around, and runs off into a large cave in the mountain at the end of the camp. Everyone looks at each other and sighs, and then the moogle and terissa show up, and the moogle projects some vivid images into the other guys minds. They all laugh!

KUpo KupO! ;)

End of session.

Maybe I'll have to do another soon. oh well.