wotmud.org

"In the last, lorn fight
'gainst the fall of long night,
the mountains stand guard,
and the dead shall be ward,
for the grave is no bar to my call."


There were few things that both the King and the Council of Nine could be united on. Determined to solidify his rule, the King of Illian decided to call for a Hunt for the Horn of Valere. This was not an issue that the Council could afford to disagree with him on and it would gain him the support of Illian's citizens. He was making a political tool of a historical tradition, but he would not downplay the Hunt's importance either.

Thus the proclamation was written and it spread across the land. Citizens in nations as far as Harden and Almoth listened as messengers spread the word:

"Heed the call. Hear the call. Glory awaits those who answer the call. On the First of the month of Aine, in the year Five Eighty-Eight of the New Era, King Gregorin Getares den Ballin has called for men and women with the light in their heart and adventure in the bones to come swear the Hunter's Oath in Illian. The oath ceremony will take place on the ninth of Tammaz."

And thus the notice spread. Lords in Mar Haddon and ladies in Saldaea, farmers from Caralain and masons from Murandy all converged on the city of Illian.

Some sought adventure. Some sought fame. Some simply sought love. This is their story.


“... prancing, silver hooves and proud, arched necks. Silken manes flutter with tossed heads. A thousand streaming banners whip rainbows against an endless sky. A hundred brazen-throated trumpets shiver the air, and drums rattle like thunder. Wave on wave, cheers roll from watchers in their thousands, roll across the rooftops and towers of Illian, crash and break unheard around the thousand ears of riders whose eyes and hearts shine with their sacred quest. The Great Hunt of the Horn rides forth, rides to seek the Horn of Valere that will summon the heroes of the Ages back from the grave to battle for the Light....” ~Excerpt from the Great Hunt for the Horn of Valere

Maraside was a small village in northern Mar Haddon, sitting beneath the shadow of the Maraside Mountains to the north. It was the last stop before one entered the Jolvaine pass into Cairhien. It was a relatively quiet town that only ever saw merchants and the occasional travelers. It was claimed that Maraside stood on the very spot that, centuries ago, Artur Hawkwing defeated the false Dragon Guaire Amalasan.

This, however, was not what Garwin had in mind when he signed up for Mar Haddon's army. Instead of getting a cushiony station like in the capital, Mirk, he was instead stuck at a border checkpoint. Garwin and the seventy five other men who formed the Maraside Northern Border Corp were stationed at Fort Khodomar. The fort, if one could call it that, was little more than a reinforced barracks. With a lack of threat from Cairhien to the north, the majority of Mar Haddon's forces sat in the south, between Tear and Mar Haddon.

Garwin exited the fort through it's southern entrance and walked the hundred spans to Maraside. He was off duty and would be so for the next two days. As luck would have it a merchant carrying wine and ale from Cairhien arrived the night before, ensuring there would still be the good stuff at the tavern.

Garwin stood outside of the Posh Pot. This was the village's only tavern, ran by Mistress Baily, and served as a gathering place for off duty soldiers and merchant guards staying the night. He offered a nod and a smile to the proprietress and made his way to a table near the fire. A serving girl, one he never met before met him and took his order. He couldn't help but stare as she walked away, there weren't a lot of new faces appearing in Maraside, a part from the occasional merchant train. It was rare that anyone new showed up to stay.

"Pretty little lass, ain't she be?" Garie, the town's cobbler, took a seat across from Garwin, his own frothing mug of ale in hand. It was well established that Garie was the best, if only, cordwainer and handy-man around. It was equally well established that he was the local drunk. He did make a pretty penny off of making and repairing shoes for travelers, but he spent all of it at the Posh Pot. "Ol' Baily hired the girl just the night a'fore. Ain't knowin' too much 'bouts her, but I hear she's got a pretty voice and I guess I don't need to tells ye how pretty she looks. Not at all like Ol' Baily."

Thawp.

The same 'Ol' Baily' delivered a resounding blow to the top of Garie's head. "I thought I smelled a rat, but it looks to be just a drunk. From the sounds of it, you were talkin' about me behind my back, Garie. Perhaps if I stopped serving you ale it'd keep your tongue in your mouth." She glared at the cordwainer.

"Naw, Ol'...I mean Mistress Baily. You needn't be doing something like that. I'll behave, that I will, I'll behave. I was just havin' a chat with ol' Garwin here. Needn't ye be minding us, no ye needn't." He turned to his mug avoiding the Mistress' glare.

"And how are you Garwin? Doing alright?" The cheeriness in her voice was much different than the tone she offered Garie.

"I'm right as rain, Ma'am. Got the next two days off and I plan on spending it here alleviating my boredom with ale and, if the stories be true, mayhaps a song from that new girl."

"Ah, yes, she's a strange one that she is. Came in the other day asking for a job. I hadn't planned on hiring a stranger, thinking that maybe one of Haran's girls could use some work, but we've been underhanded since Jess left for the capital. She's pretty and has a better voice than most so I thought to try her out. Don't know much else about her."

Garwin nodded, wondering where his ale was. Mistress Baily took a seat at their table, much to the chagrin of Garie. "By the by, Garwin, have you heard the news?" He shook his head. "Well, apparently, King Gregorin of Illian has called for a Hunt for the Horn of Valere. I hear that all sorts of people, high and low, are making their way to Illian to swear the Hunter's Oath."

Garie guffawed, "A fool's errand. They ain't gonna be findin' no 'Horn of Valere'. 'Tis a waste of time for people to be prying their noses in places they ain't belonging." He drank down the rest of his mug and called for another. "It'll be the end of the world the day the Horn is found, if it even exists, and it sure don't seem like the end is nigh, do it be?"

Garwin nodded at Garie, "That's true, but who wouldn't care for a bit of adventure? Anything to relieve themselves of the bore of everyday life." At that the two at his table nodded in agreement.

What he would give, Garwin thought, if he could go adventuring around searching for the Horn, traveling to lands far and wide. That would be a life much more worth living than stuck here at Fort Khodomar. Mistress Baily left their table to prepare food and drink for other patrons and Garie began to talk in his drunken speech, mostly at himself than at Garwin. As Garwin daydreamed about being a Hunter another thought crossed his mind: Where was his blasted ale?!

"Heed the call. Hear the call. Glory awaits those who answer the call. On the First of the month of Aine, in the year Five Eighty-Eight of the New Era, King Gregorin Getares den Ballin has called for men and women with the light in their heart and adventure in the bones to come swear the Hunter's Oath in Illian. The oath ceremony will take place on the ninth of Tammaz."

Deriveh glanced down at the notice in his hand again. This would suit him well! If he returned home as finder of the horn perhaps someone would take notice of him, well, to be hontest, it was his fathers attention he wanted. Being the seventh son Deriveh had close to no chance of taking over the throne of the house, even though he had been educated to be able too. At least it would get him out of the manor.

In no time Deriveh had made his way back to his suit in the manor, gathering what he thought he needed for trip. Just a few sets of his finest clothes, his lighter leather armor and of course strapped the long two-handed blade on his back. He quickly checked his purse to make sure he had enough gold before taking the back door down to the stables where the stable-hand had already prepared his horse as he had sent note on, and the journey began towards Illian.

Only half a league from the manor he came to the village of Maraside, he decided to make a curtesey visit to the inn and perhaps brag a bit about how he was going to search for the horn.

After handing over his horse to the stable-hand he quickly made sure his clothes were perfectly in order before he strode in through the doors of Posh Pot...


(Okay, first off. English is my second language. Second, never done anything like this before so do tell me if I'm doing things the wrong way.)

About a week before the First of month Aine, a young woman arrives in an illianer village located near the borders with lands of Tear. She cannot avoid being noticed, travelling alone and carrying a bow with her. Her first steps lead to the inn.

As she comes in, an old bartender glances her direction suspiciously before saying: "We don't see many strangers around. And we don't like Tairens." After those announcements he returns to sorting glasses on a shelf. The woman smiles slightly and answers: "I am not Tairen, Master Garold. I brought a letter for you. From Saldaea."

Master Garold received the envelope with distrust but a second after opening it, distrust in his eyes changes in pleasant surprise. He reads the letter fast.

"You should have told me immediately old Kibana was sending you, Havra. I still have the package somewhere, i'll look for it as soon as we close for today. How long are you going to stay?"

Havra smiles back at Master Garold. "Tommorrow I must continue my way to Illian."

"I see. You wanna become one of those fool hunting a legend. Not a good life for a girl like you. Uncomfortable and dangerous."

Havra smiles slightly while responding politely to Garold's advice. She knew she wouldn't convince him he's wrong about her even if she tried.

"Last caravan came through, man had only one shoe on his foot! I asked him I did why he got only one shoe and he told me his other was worn and torn from the journey, and he ain't the time to have it fixed. Wells I told him I could have it fixed for him, but he said they were leaving on the morrow and didn't have time to have it fixed. Wells I said, I did, that I'd have it fixed before he even went to bed, but he bet me he couldn't." Garie grinned mischievously as he always did when telling his gambling stories, "Well I done bet him a whole silver crown. Sure as light I came into here with his shoe in hand. Ye shoulda seen his face, couldn't believe that I'd done it. I'm still spending that silver crown on ale!"

Garwin grinned at his friend. "Some people would call that hustling, Garie."

"'Taint my fault he bet me without knowing who I be. Most everyone 'round these parts knows I gets the job done when it needs be done. Them travelers need not be making bets when they ain't knowin' who they be betting." Garie nodded to himself self-assuredly.

The new serving maid made her way to their table placing two tankards on it. "I apologize for the delay, we had to roll up a whole new casket of ale." She offered the two men an apologetic smile.

Garwin took a moment to assess her. No doubt about the fact she was cute and if the way she talked was any indication, she definitely had a voice worth listening to. "What's your name lass?"

She glanced at Garwin, "Matilde, but everyone calls me Maddie. And I'm not so young you can go around calling me lass," she frowned.

"Ooohwiee. This one's got a fire in her. What say ye lass ye sit down with us men and keep us company a bit?"

"I'm sorry, but I've got work to do."

"Oh, don't be like that." Garie slid a silver penny forward, "Silver penny says you stay and sing us a song." Matilde took a moment to examine the coin. She picked it up and bit it to authenticate it. With a nod she pocketed the coin and set out to sing.

"There was a cat from Kintara..." She belted out the notes and drew the attention of all the men in the Posh Pot. The song was a leery one, full of the innuendo that a tavern full of drunk soldiers and husbands liked to hear. While the rest of the tavern hooted and hollared, clapping their hands and stamping their feet to the beat, Garwin couldn't keep his eyes off the woman. Something about her was so...captivating.

Garwin was brought back to reality by the cheers and cries for an encore. "Sorry boys, I've got work to do." This left a bunch of men pouting and whining. She glanced at Garwin before heading back to the kitchens.

It was then that a man wearing the fine clothes of a noble entered the tavern. Garie smirked, "Lookie what we do have here. Some 'high' born noble come grace our presence."

The wagon bumped and rattled against the ruts in the road like a living thing bent on ridding itself of his burden.

“Does this road get any better?” he asked dryly to the man captaining the rickety vessel.

“Nah.”

“Nah,” he muttered to himself sardonically. “Of course not.” It was his second week on the road. The proclamation of Hunt for the Horn had spread through the nation like wildfire. At every corner shop and inn, it was the only thing on people’s lips. Immediately upon hearing the news, Meristal had rushed back to his cell in the Sedusta, the great fortress at the heart of Caralain. Scribbling a quick note that illuminated his reasons for resigning his commission and wishing his father a happy life, he had dashed off while the wax seal was still wet.

Dear old King Greg had just blessed him with enough bounty to retire on.

Deriveh tried his best to ignore everyone around him but couldn't help but to glance over the room before walking over to an empty table taking a seat.

A serving maid came out from the kitchens to attend to the new customer, Deriveh ordered a glass of whine and placed a few silver coins on the table, proclaiming the next drinks where on him, a bit louder and quite obvious for everyone to hear he told the maid that he was celebrating that he'd be the one who would find The Horn.

The maid twitched slightly and anyone looking could see a wry smile play over the Deriveh's face, as she left for the bar.

When she returned with his whine the orders had started to pour in as most of the tavern had heard of Deriveh's proclaim to pay for the next round. A look of satisfaction covered the noble's face as some of the customers raised the mugs and glasses in his direction and he took a sip of his whine.

Garwin grinned as he was handed a free mug on the newcomer. "Always kind of nobility to give coin instead of take it." He smirked as Garie erupted into laughter. Garwin moved towards the noble, raising his mug as he neared, "Light be praised!" Garie and Garwin took seats on either side of the man.

"So, soft hands, come here to muster what gratitude you can before you embark on a fruitless journey?" jabbed Garie.

"Come now, Garie." Garwin faced the newcomer, gazing at him as if trying to read his soul. "You say that you're going to Hunt for the Horn? I assume that means that you will be heading to Illian, no?"

Deriveh glances towards the man named Garie before turning towards the soldier.
"Yes, I will head towards Illian of course. Unless I find some clue on the way, wouldn't complain if I reached Illian already with the horn in my possession."

Deriveh chuckles softly before taking a sip of his whine.

"So, who are you? You will join the hunt for the horn as well?"

Havra sat at a table in the corner of the room. Meals like the dinner she just had might become rare for her soon.

Master Garold kept serving all the guests till midnight. After that, most people headed out of the doors to their homes. Just Havra and two older men stayed inside. Master Garold left the room for a moment and came back with a rather flat parcel wrapped in simple paper. As he headed to Havra's table, he didn't notice the two men stood up. One ran out of the door and the other attacked.

The fight was short, thank's to Havra's knives being close to her hand. Garold looked at Havra surprisedly. She took the parcel from him. "Did you think I would want to search for the Horn if I was unable to take care of myself, Master Garold? I should leave immediately and so should you. The other one might have run for help. I apologize for causing you the troubles. Not a good way to express how much I appreciate your help."

Master Garold nods briefly and asks:"Is your granny Kibana still wisdom in the same village? Seems like I gained a few enemies here." Havra smiles at him.

A few moments later, both Havra and Garold leave the inn. Out of the village, their paths divide. Havra continues to the south, Garold to the north. None of them is there a few hours later to see the in burning.
................
Two days later, Havra rides through the gates of Illian. The city is completely overcrowded. Not only future Hunters are here, many people just don't want to miss such an occassion.

Most inns are full from the floor to the roof. After a closer look inside her purse, Havra pays for last room at the Three Stars. Three days till the date set by King but some of the future Hunters in here were already acting as if they were heroes. Their speculations of where to look covered whole continent, from Aryth Ocean to the Waste, from Blight to southern coast. There were a few sitting aside as well, probably lost in their plans.

Havra went to her room and made sure to lock the door. She didn't lose time with unpacking andopened the parcel. As she had expected, there were maps. They were about twenty years old but of very good quality. Among others, she found one and kept studying it untill going to bed.