GURPS: The Known World

Session X - SIEGE

Session 10 – The Siege of Al-Wazif

Hussein was skeptical, as was his way. Leaning on his spear outside the Officer’s Hall, he considered the past few days. General Zazim assassinated by foreign spies! That explained the presence of the Caliph’s Shadow, the intelligence agency of the Caliphate. The mere mention of this organization would make even a hardened veteran shudder. Not Hussein, but then a Scorpion Legionnaire like him had faced the monsters of the deep south and lived; a few old scholars, nobles and other scrotum-lickers would not intimidate him, rumours of their assassins’ prowess be damned.

The worst part of this mess was the disgrace suffered by the Scorpion Legion. Blame had to find a home, and many fingers were pointed at General Sakeem, the Old Scorpion. He would never be given command, given that it was his troops that had been compromised. It was a shame, Hussein thought, that the monstrous Turam-Barak, General of the Desert Vipers, would get that honour; Turam-Barak was rumoured to be utterly insane and whispers around the soldiers’ fires said that horrendous things happened to his officers and troops.

Heavy steps were heard of the stairs, and Hussein snapped to attention. He glanced over at his fellow Scorpion, Omar. Omar was as new a recruit as existed in the Legion, but he was a deadly warrior, deadlier even than Hussein.

Up the stairs came General Turam-Barak, all eight feet of him. Hussein barely stopped himself from staring at the man. This close, he seemed utterly inhuman. Shoulders wider than they should be, and face harder than any man Hussein had ever met, the General looked able to scare an Ogre to death. He was unescorted, believing himself secure even without bodyguards, despite Zazim’s fate. Arrogance or confidence, Hussein could not decide.

The General approached the Scorpions, stopping to regard them. Several hard moments passed. The General’s hard eyes stared at each soldier for a moment, first Hussein, then Omar. Silence. Then, swifter than an arrow in flight, his maul of a hand shot out, striking Omar’s helmet and snapping his neck with a wet crunch.

Hussein, with all his years of combat and training, was caught completely off-guard. Before he could ready his spear, the General’s face was inches from his, begging him to take action. Hussein gulped. “What?”, the General asked. When Hussein did not answer, one of the General’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Wh-why?”, Hussein asked. The General looked baffled. “You ask me why I punished him? Do you not see his helmet? It is poorly polished. I cannot stand incompetence. I demand perfection, and this – THIS – is what you are capable of?” Noticing the food-stains on the General’s breastplate, as well as his unshaved cheeks, Hussein was silent. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Turam-Barak continued, as if Hussein was Omar, “but you left me no choice!”. By now, tears were streaming down the man’s stubbly cheeks and Hussein knew fear. This man, no, this beast knew no boundaries, was ruled by no laws and could, if he so decided, slay Hussein effortlessly. No one would lift a finger to stop it, and no one could. Not even the Old Scorpion. Then, “FORGIVE ME”, and the General strode past, slamming open the doors to where the Caliph, the Great Prophet and the Great Magi waited. He would have his promotion. Gods be damned!

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Jesmael Coldheat
Fra Lars

Jesmael Coldheat rettede på sin store store hat, da han gik ud fra det telt der fungeret som hovedkvarter for The Army Of Light. Han havde lige fået sine ordre og han var glad eller så glad som han nu kunne blive…

Han havde fået ordre til at bringe en gruppe desertører tilbage så de kunne blive straffet. Han måtte kun bruge vold hvis de gjorde modstand… Men det var han nu sikker på at de ville…

Et lumsk lille smil brætte sig på hans tynde læber da han tænkte på hvad han ville gøre hvad ham den fisefornemme knight som var leder af den gruppe desertører.

Da det var en stor gruppe han jagede den her gang, var han nødt til at have det rigtige værktøj med. Så han gik over mod snappernes telte og derefter skulle han se hvad for noget gift han kunne støve op.

Næste morgen var han klar, han havde haft held med at få fat på nogle for forskellige slags gift og og hans besøg hos snapperne havde også båret frugt, han havde renset og samlet sin lille men meget kraftige 2 skuds crossbow, hans to short swords var blevet smurt med den speciale lammene gift som han selv lavet, hans breast plate var blevet velsignet og sidst men ikke mindst havde han slebet de to knivspidser der sad for endende af hans ridestøvler.

Han samlet sin lange ride frakke om sig og trak sin hat godt ned i panden mod morgen kulden da han gik over pladsen med sine heste: Han ville bruge to til at skifte i mellem, så han så hurtigt så muligt kunne ind hente sit bytte.

Han var kendt for altid at fange sit bytte lige meget hvad der skulle til.


Jesmael Coldhart havde lige forladt teltet.

Kaptajn Walgar Stalus blev kaldt ind af Lord Anulf Barcell.

Han stoppede op præcis 1 meter fra sin herres bord og stod ret.

Lord Barcell målte ham an med øjnene.

Og sagde så: ”Jeg har en meget vigtige opgave til dig, hvis den ikke lykkes kan vi miste det beste våben var har mod Chalifen.”

”Du skal straks tage af sted til Al-Wazif og finde en gruppe desertør.”

Walgar kunne mærke hans mave blive til is. Dette var bestemt ikke en opgave han havde lyst til at påtage sig. Han kiggede sin lord lige i øjne og sagde med jern i stemmen: ”Så mine ordrer er de samme som Jesmael Coldhart`s?”

”Nej dine ordre er snarere det modsatte… Du skal finde dem og advare dem om at Coldheart er på sporet af dem og aflevere nye ordre til dem og give dem den her:” mens han sagde det smed han en stor pung på boret, Stalus kunne høre de mange mønte klirer i den.

”Der efter skal du yde dem alt den hjælp du kan, hvis du vender tilbage om en time vil jeg have deres ordrer klar.”

Walgar gik ud af telte. Han var ved godt mod, bedre ind han havde været i dagevis. Han havde været nedtrygt siden han hørte rygtet om at Caldor Tremelay og hans venner var eftersøgt for mord. Det havde skabt stor splid i lejren, for der var ikke mange der troede på det. Ihvertfald ikke blandt de menige og slet ikke hos nogle af dem der var med ved slaget om red dawn, et slag som Walgar selv havde kæmpet i og et slag hvor Caldor Tremelay havde reddet hans liv. Walgar havde mistede sin hest tidligt i slaget og var der for tvunget til at kæmpe til fods og på et tidspunkt var han blevet slået i jorden af et slag der var kommet fra venstre og ramt ham på side af hans hjelm. Han havde ligget fortumlet, våbenløs og kikket op og set sin død i møde og lige i det, at det dødbringende slag skulle falde, komme en knight i skindende rustning riden forbi og med et slag fra sit sværd fældede han den mand som ville have dræbt Stalus, inde knight`en tordne vider ind i kampen, kiggede han ned på Stalus og gav ham et kort nik. Efter det havde Walgar samlet sig selv sammen og kastet sig ind i kampen, han havde aldrig talt med Caldor Tremelay siden og nu skulle han redde hans liv.

præcis en time og 10 minutter senere red han ud af porten på vej mod Al-Wazif.

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Session IX - Treachery
The Cabal I

_“Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.”_ - Khalil Gibran

_Abyss below. I hate the desert. I hate the people here. I hate this entire fucking continent. If I get the chance I will rain down holy fire on this hell hole. I am talking scorched earth, motherfucker. I will massacre this entire Caliphate. I will personally rip the arms off Zazim. I will eat his heart. I will…_ My thoughts are interrupted as we arrive battered, bruised and thirsty at the gates of Shaniyabad in the morning. Since we look like either deserters or refugees with lots and lots of weapons, we decide to act like we are survivors from the Battle of the Red Dawn, which of course we are, but we were on the other side – the winning side. The guards are naturally suspicious of us, so we have to bribe them. _What kind of moronic guards let the enemy in for a few gold pieces? These people clearly don’t deserve to breathe the same air as me._ Ecco pays them quickly. We need to eat and drink and sleep soon, and I’m tired of hearing about Corwin’s need of a woman. We settle on an inn to meet in and Corwin is off to a place called ‘the Water Room’, which is clearly a gay club or sauna. We look at each other, all clearly confused since neither of us knew Corwin apparently swings both ways. ‘_The barbarian way indeed’_. After a short while Corwin comes out looking sheepishly at us, trying to explain that it was a mistake and that he didn’t knew it was an all men’s club. _It’s good to have a laugh after all this time. I don’t think any of us have laughed since the death of Harlon._

We book a private room in the ‘Early Dawn Inn’ and sit down to eat. Not long after there’s a knock on the door. We reach for our weapons and prepare to kill anything that comes through. The situation is tense as Ecco opens the door, but on the other side we find a creature known as a dwarf. He (or is it a she?) is grizzled and clearly a veteran, but other than that he is non-threatening. He gives us no name, but he tells us to meet the Dirgewarper at the ‘Scarlet Scorpion’ later. We are all puzzled as the questions mounts up. Why? How? Why us? A trap? We have too little information and are deeply behind enemy lines with no exit strategy. We need to get our bearings and get an understanding of the situation.

Since Ecco is great at talking to people and sniffing up secret information, and given the fact that he most likely is the least recognizable character among us, he is sent out into Shaniyabad alone. He quickly learns that the Caliphate army is sent back to the capital of al- Wazif to make a final stand there. Ecco also find out that the Dark Messiah, whom they call the Great Prophet, is marching a huge army to al-Wazif from the south in support of the Caliph. There are rumours about the Empire of Callus is preparing for another war and conquest. This time they apparently plan to cross over the Uzmelech plains towards the Three Realms. _I feel the cold sweet on my scared neck. If that army moves again someone will have to be there to stop Him. And stand in his way I will. But how do you defeat a god? I guess a sword through his eye can fuck up even a god’s day._ And Ecco discovers that there’s a new powerhouse in the city’s dark underbelly. A player we’ve seen and fought before. A player that is extremely powerful and whose objects and goals and even its identity is still unknown. A player known only as the Cabal.

We are by all accounts in over our heads. We are all quiet and sitting in our own thoughts when Lucien leaves. I decide to take a nap. Lucien wakes me up. I go to meet the others who are a confused as I am. One by one Lucien calls us into his room. There, there are symbols on the floor and walls, a thousand candles are lit and place in perfectly in symmetry of some ancient symbol. As I enter the circle in the middle of the room, Lucien chants and enchants my being through my belt buckle. I feel the power of his sorcery in my bones. I feel … Blessed. The others have the same experience. _Lucien is clearly more than the lunatic he appears to be._ And what is more, he’s given us our focus back. We have no other choice than to press forward. The heavy infantry soldier’s way. My way! We armour up, sharpen our swords, and prepare for our meeting with the Dirgewarper.

(Excerpt from the ‘Memories of the Lion’ by Ovidius the Old)

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Session I - Prologue
Before it all began

We are all pushed into a world of madness, yet it must now fall to each of us to pull back from this Abyss, to drag ourselves free from the descending spiral. From horror, grief must be fashioned, and from grief, compassion.

Decius sat with his back to the wall enjoying a beer in an inn in a small village called Clearwater. He was a big man but not a giant, yet he seemed larger because of his small companion. The barkeep had wondered about his deep penetrating voice and confident attitude, since it’s not common in someone looking so young. But Decius Malthus wasn’t young. In fact he was more than three quarters of a century old. Not bad for someone looking like a teenager. He had a big gold, red, and yellow bushy tangled head of curly hair and beard, and a flat catlike nose which made him look a bit like a wild lion, a creature known from the plains of his homeland, the Empire of Callus. Carrying two broadswords, a spear, a dagger, a crossbow, and a large shield with a winged lion marking he looked like a veteran soldier, and with his full backpack with torches sticking out, and a winter blanket and bedroll beneath it, he looked like an adventurer. In fact he and his companion were caravan guards and they were very good at it.

They had been companions for a long time now. How they met neither had spoken of to anyone, but it was clear that they trusted each other completely. They made a great team with Decius as the brawns and Ecco Fat-Fingers the Ever-Curious as the brains. Ecco is about half the size as a normal human, a creature known as a Halfling or a Hobbit. A bit on the fat side for a Halfling, Ecco is childish looking even for his kind and has brown curly hair. Common to his race he is curious, but Ecco takes it to the extreme in his quest to investigate and explore everything. With him he carries a special Halfling weapon called a staff-sling, which he uses with devastating effect and nobody can deny his skill or precision. ‘

They had just finished their last contract delivering goods to the village of Clearwater. The contract had been a tough one. Many times Ecco and Decius had to draw their weapons and spill enemy blood in defence of the caravan. And not just against humans. Several times it was orcs or other evil creatures and once a griffon had stolen away one of the horses. It felt like things were getting worse and worse in the outskirts of civilization.

There weren’t any other interesting occupants in the inn, only a few local peasants and craftsmen, so Decius took another drink while thinking about nothing and enjoying a little leisure time. Ecco, of course, continued talking about some business deal or idea he had. Decius always let him talk pretending to listen and understand all his fancy talk. And then the door opened and in walked two weird looking strangers. That moment changed everything. Everything!

(Excerpt from the ‘Tales of the Lion’ by Epicurus the Disbeliever).

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Session VII - final part
A Clash of Champions

Is God willing to prevent evil, but not able? Then he is not omnipotent.

Is he able, but not willing? Then he is malevolent.

Is he both able and willing? Then whence cometh evil?

Is he neither able nor willing? Then why call him God?

by Epicurus

I heard the screams and sounds of horrible infighting when I ran up the stairs. By the grunts and groans things were not going well, so I quickened my pace, which wasn’t easy after a full day of combat. Finally I reached the top floor and the seat of power of the Lord of al-Abyad. The situation was mayhem when I arrived. Harlon was down and not moving outside the throne room. As I entered Corwin went down under the onslaught of the Chosen Champion of al-Abyad and his three surviving guards. In the corner lay the dead Lord of al-Abyad, apparently killed by an axe. Ecco was nowhere to be seen, and only one man from the Army of Light was standing: Sir Caldor Tremelor the Blessed. I moved quickly using the opening trick I learned on the Uzmelech plains by the son of the chief and dispatched the first guard. Caldor kept trying to hit the Chosen Champion while at the same time blocking and parrying his and the guards attacks. Caldor were really letting it all out, but the many cuts and bruises on him and a battered shield showed he was in trouble. As I moved across the room, I blocked a slash from a guard’s halberd, and with a downward swing I cut of his left leg. Without looking back I moved on. I could see Corwin was still breathing, but there was no way he could get up after the pounding he had taken.

The last guard proved troublesome, but my superior skill ended him in mere seconds. And then it was just the Chosen Champion, a battered Sir Caldor, and me. I moved up to him, but he was ready for me, and cut me across the torso; so much for a quick ending. Being experienced veterans of several campaigns, we locked shields and waited our time. Oh, how it reminded me of the glorious Callus days. But the Chosen Champion of al-Abyad was far more disciplined and a better fighter than the barbarian hordes we destroyed back then. Several times he feigned attacks getting past mine or Caldor’s guard only to be blocked by the other ones shield. You could see his frustration in his eyes. We both kept trying to get past his defenses, but he was easily our match in skill and ability, and we only got small nicks and cuts in. Time was running out. Thenos’ blessing on Caldor was wearing off.

Suddenly he disarmed Caldor. We both drew a deep breath preparing for the worst. There was no way either of us could stand long alone against him. That Corwin was out of the fight was testament to that. Defending ferociously Caldor manage to draw his mace, but it was clearly not his weapon of choice. The Chosen Champion saw his moment and attacked with everything he had. But he was denied again and again. Everything he threw at us ended on our shield wall. And in the end our resilience paid off. Caldor landed yet another strike on him and that time he has no defense. He was dead before hitting the ground.

There was no time for rejoicing, and as it turned out no reason for rejoicing. While Corwin survived with a new set of scars, Harlon did not have that kind of luck. With one blow the taking of al-Abyad had cost the 4th Crusade a very high price. A price that by my account was way too high. Trust me I know the price you pay when you’re at war, but for the Army of Light to lose its premier magical power and one the greatest personalities wasn’t a worth a small city on the northeastern shores of the Caliphate by a long shot. Of course our leaders claimed it was a great victory. They had to. But us veterans could see it in the eyes of the common soldier. Fear. Mortality. The invincible army had taken a severe blow. And I … I had lost a friend.

(Excerpt from the ‘Tales of the Lion’ by Epicurus the Disbeliever).

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Legends from the Age of Ice
The Fall of Kull

The Gods gathered around the man in their midst, each of them bent on using his power to enhance the human’s strength, speed and prowess, for without the power of the them all, the man would stand no chance against his adversary. The man looked around with no fear. He wasn’t afraid of neither good nor evil, shadow nor light, and he would have met his opponent even without this help. With the ending of the ritual coming closer, each of the finished gods left the holy site, for to linger would give their opponents able opportunity to slay them. In the end only a select few remained, each baring a gift to the man; the Necklace of Black Winter with incredible powers of magic negation and cold resistance, the Horn of Dragons that could call upon the powerful dragon, Abashi the Black Doom, the mighty Hammer of Destruction and the fabled Sword of the Titan, neither of which have been seen since. The man was ready to set out on his quest to save the world, for he was about to track down Kull himself and deliver to him the final justice. They named him Palâdin!

Being true to his name, Palâdin wasted no time to track down Kull. On his trusted stead, Juggernaut, he travelled towards the mountain that was Kull’s earthly powerbase, the Bastion of Endless Winter, destroying everything in his path. No monster or beast could stand more than a few seconds against this mighty force of Good, and his powerful arms swung the Sword of the Titan like it was a part of him. On the slopes of the Ice Mountain awaited the most powerful of Kull’s servants. They all wanted to be the slayer of the Champion of all the Gods, but instead they went down one by one. Palâdin seemed invincible and dealt quick death to all who opposed him.

When Palâdin reached the top and the infamous Gates of Ice, which had never been breached by any foe, it only took one swing from the Hammer of Destruction to bring down the gate and allow Palâdin to enter. There he found that Kull himself waited, and the Creator Gods are extremely powerful and especially so the god known as the God of Winter.

Palâdin was forced to leave Juggernaut behind when he entered the Bastion, so he blew the Horn of Dragons and called upon Abashi the Black Doom to aid him instead. Together they flew in and faced Kull in the center of his home. It was extremely cold, but the necklace protected Palâdin against the magical winter and all of Kull’s magic. Enraged Kull drew his gigantic Axe of Eternal Darkness and met Palâdin head on in melee. The fight was unbelievable. Two of the mightiest warriors to have ever lived fought for days, neither willing to bow down or able to gain the upper hand. Palâdin was smaller but quicker and he had help from one of the most powerful dragons in the Known World, but Kull was an Elder God and had millennial years of experience.

In the end Palâdin was victorious and the winter without end was lifted. No one except Abashi the Black Doom know exactly how, but what is known is that Necklace of Black Winter had a curse upon it, and it strangled Palâdin seconds after his victory. Who placed the curse is unknown, but it is speculated that it was the either the God of Magic or the Shadow God. It is also known that Abashi the Black Doom was named the Black Doom after that incident and it is now the most feared dragon in the Known World. Neither of the weapons or the other artifacts used in the gigantic struggled has ever been seen since, although, it is rumored that Abashi the Black Doom collected the artifacts and hid them.

From The Fall of Kull and other Myths of the Ice Age by Epicurus the Disbeliever

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After session III - Toran & Karlak
Landevejsrøvere og heltene fra Clearwater

Uploaded af Marc for Lars:

Toran kiggede op fra det glas han var ved at tørre af. Han havde været krovært på den Fede Jomfru i over 9 år nu, og aldrig havde han set en, der så så bange ud som ham, der lige var kommet ind af døren. Og han lignede ellers ikke en, der havde nemt ved at blive bange. Han var en stor man, med et stort ar på kinden og et meget stort sværd i bæltet. Det var Karlak Bonesplitter – en kendt røver fra området.

Toran gik over til ham og skænkede ham en stor dram, mens han sagde: ”Hvad er der galt min ven?” Karlak kiggede op og sagde: ”Nogle af mine folk og jeg lå i baghold her til aften, da vi havde hørt, at der ville komme en gruppe rejsende forbi, så vi regnede med, at det ville være det sædvanlige, altså en købmand med et par vagter.” Toran skænkede den næste op, mens han sagde: ”Og det var det ikke?” Karlak svarede: ”Nej! Det var en flok djævle. Den ene havde et kæmpe skjold og lige meget, hvad vi gjorde, kunne vi ikke komme forbi det. Den anden var en kæmpe, som sloges med en enorm økse i een hånd. Mens vi kæmpede med dem blev vi hele tiden ramt af præsice sten, men der var ikke nogle der så, hvor de kom fra. Men det er slet ikke det værste, for lige pludselig kom der en løve og en bjørn ud af skoven og angreb mine mænd. Så hvad kunne jeg gøre? Jeg løb.”

Kroværten så på ham og tænkte, gad vide hvor mange kroer ham har været på, inden han kom her ind? Lige i samme øjeblik gik døren til krostuen op og ind trådte en man i ring brynje med et sværd ved hver side og et stort skjold spændt på ryggen. Den fremmede gik op til baren og satte sig ned ved side af Karlak, og føst nu kunne Toran se hans ansigt, for den fremmde havde et stort gul/rødt skæg næsten som en manke. Den fremmede hostede en gang og sagde så: ”Jeg skal bruge 5 værlser og mad til 6 personer.” Mens han sagde dette, kiggede han på Karlak, og efter at have kigget på ham et stykke tid, sagde han: ”Har jeg ikke set dig før?”

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Session VII: Intro
After the Death of a Thane

_“Because I could not stop for Death _

_He kindly stopped for me. _

The Carriage held but just Ourselves -

And Immortality.”

On the day the 1st Cohort and its victorious auxiliary forces were to leave the culled city of al-Abyad, a lone figure sat by the mound that was Harlon Thanes last gift to the world and is now his final resting place. He sat completely still and had been sitting there for a while in deep thought or prayer.

None of the guards dared approach him for the stories about him in the Army of Light were many and enough to give a certain caution when accosting him. It was said, he was the first over the wall and in the city – and alone at that. That he was the reason the defense line was in disorder, when Sir Calder Tremelor was first through the breach at the Purge of al-Abyad only seconds after the explosion by Ecco Fat-Fellow, even though no one saw him. He certainly was one of only three survivors fighting the Chosen Champion of the Triumvirate and his elite guards. A Chosen Champion distinguished and renowned throughout the Caliphate for his skill and valor. That it was his timely turn up that saved some of the most celebrated and recognized heroes in the Army of Light and were the only reason they ‘only’ lost one. And that when he carried out the body of Harlon Thane his tears stricken chins was the only bloodless part of him and that there were murder and vengeance in his eyes.

His eyes could not be seen now but his body was, even sitting still, poised as a lion ready to strike. Suddenly he bowed his head in a final show of respect and whispered something and then he walked away towards his company, his friends. Apparently he had come to some agreement with himself or something else. Not many got to see his face or his eyes when he went, but those who did bowed away in fear. And to those with very sharp ears his whispering sounded like: “I’m sorry. I came too late.”

When he reached the camp, Corwin Giantson was waiting for him. They spoke a few words each and then nodded, apparently agreeing on something. None of them were smiling but there was a deadly fire in their eyes!

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How the Rise of Religion, a new Military Doctrine, and a new Crusade Keep Peace at Bay.
The 4th Crusade

By Salah ad-Din Yusuf Ibn Ayyub, Royal Historian and Adviser to the High Imam Rakeem Iblis in 644 FK.

My Lord High Imam Rakeem Iblis,

Al-Abyad, remember, is only one city in a mighty catalogue of misery, whose entries are inscribed in tears. The believers of Thenos and the Caliphate of Ashemelech have been fighting on and off for more than 300 years. In 309 FK the First Crusade of Thenos saw a mighty host of crusaders slaying and destroying a lot of the unsuspecting Caliphate. Since then has come the dismal march of two more Crusades – each seared in blood and fire into the conflicting myths and memories of both sides. The intervals between the Crusades have not been filled with peace but by hate crimes, raids, uprisings and atrocities. Caliphate inhabitants today still cite, as if it were yesterday, the massacre of Alhallabad in 310 FK, and the descendents of the survivors of the 2nd Crusade still remember the bloodbath and desperate flight from As-Siyassi in 496 FK. The slaughter last month in Al-Abyad, in which an almost entire city, children and women, were killed in a single day, will pour fresh poison into the brimming well of hate.

A conflict that has lasted more than 300 years is not susceptible to easy solutions or glib judgments. Those who choose to reduce it to “colonialism” of the one side or “land preservation” of the other are just stroking their own prejudices. At heart, this is a struggle of the peoples for the power to force and expand their religious beliefs. It is not the sort of a dispute in which enemies push back and forth over a line until they grow tired. It is much more complicated than that.

Religion is why this conflict grinds on remorselessly. During eruptions of violence, the mantra of diplomats and advisors is the need for a two-religion solution. It sounds so simple; if two peoples cannot agree on a pantheon, they must have two pantheons. This was obvious to outsiders even before the First Crusade. In Thenares, however, things are seen in a different light. After a new doctrine was implemented in 641 FK, the Church has been extremely hostile and aggressive to all non-believers. The doctrine basically and simply states that all Churchmen of Thenos must aggressively pursue a way to turn people towards to Light. It is clear that they want a war.

That said I feel our only option is to answer this in kind. There will be no rest or peace until the infidels have been banished from our lands. Until the church of Thenos understands that there are easier targets for their misguided and heretic hate. Our preponderance should be made clear in al-Wazif, when the Prophet joins our ranks and our army will shine in all its might. After our win we should follow them to Thenares and destroy their church completely!

Your faithful servant,

Salah ad-Din Yusuf Ibn Ayyub

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The Memory of Corwin Giantson Still Lives in The Bloody Skull Clan
The Hunt Continues

Dette er skrevet af Lars, men er lagt ud af Marc pga problemer:

Han så rundt på de andre, som sad ved bålet. Der var Huran Splitface, som havde fået sit navn efter han var blevet ramt i ansigtet af en økse. Han var efter deres bytte, fordi byttet dræbte hans ven Ektos Strongarm.

Ved bålet sad også Eben Onehand, der med sine 2 meter og 40 tårnede over alle. Han forklarede grunden til, at han var efter deres bytte, var fordi han havde bragt skam over Shatterstones søster.

Ved siden af ham sad hans bror Walgar the Giant, som med sine 1.55 smalle skikkelse mest af alt lignede et barn ved siden af sin bror, men man ville gøre klogt i ikke at tage fejl af ham. Rygterne sagde, at han en gang havde skåret tungen ud på en, der kaldte ham lille, og med den daggert han sad med, skulle man nok tro, det var muligt.

Også var der ham selv Barduk Lightning Axe. Den bedste kriger i The bloody Skull Clan. Han var ved at blive gammel, men der var stadig ingen, der kunne stå imod ham. Byttet havde dræbt hans ældste søn, og var derfor blevet bortvist, men det var ikke nok. Byttet måtte dø. Byttet havde dræbt hans ældste søn og derfor måtte Barduk dræbe sin yngste søn!

I morgen ville de dele sig for at lede efter deres bytte Corwin Giantson.

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