It was almost dark…
The icy wind blew in fierce angry gusts as it howled across the top of the Great Bor range. It threw snow in dappled white patters across the stone walls of Brakanbar Keep, where the grey had become stained with red.
A fierce battle raged where the foul and loathsome Giaks kept throwing wave after wave of soldiers against the stalwart defence, as if there were no limit to their numbers. All around the shouts and screams of combat rang, punctuated now and then by the unnerving ‘thoom’ of the Dwarven Bor rifles.
A Giak fell to one side, part of its face missing, the still smoking remains cooling rapidly in the slew of snow. Yet still they swarmed the walls, their weapons slashing and hacking as the Dwarves fired another volley.
“Hold the line!” Another great blast and several smaller echoes followed as the next horde of Giak were shredded by shot.
“Is there no end to these damnable things?” Harradar growled as the frost caked on his beard. He began to reload his rifle and slammed the butt of it upon the frozen ground.
The Master Gunner known as Garagold shook his head and hunkered down behind a defence wall. “No Harradar,” he answered with a sigh. “There’s never an end…just a pause in a chapter of our lives.”
A volley of spears sailed overhead and several defenders fell back pierced but still alive; their grunts of pain joined the cacophony of battle.
“I see what you mean,” Harradar set his rifle steady and took aim, felling another Giak with a thunderous crack and whorl of smoke. He notched a small nick into his rifle’s wooden stock and grinned. “I’m three up on you.”
Garagold narrowed his eyes and growled. “This is no competition lad, this is life and death. If we lose this fortress, then there’s little we can do to stem the black tide.”
“Aye,” the other Dwarf began to reload once more, as the Giaks swarmed over the old stone. “Ye’d think they’d have something better to do than to keep throwing themselves at us, adding to the pile of the dead.”
“Wearing us down it is…we’re running low on ammunition and powder.” It was the Master Gunner’s turn to fire his rifle and he winged one Giak, the shot passing clean through the throat of another.
“Two for one,” Harradar growled and his breath blew out in frosty gasps. “Nice one, old man.”
“T’was naught but luck.” The old one kissed his cold knuckles and ducked down behind the wall again. This continued on for the better part of an hour with the seemingly endless howling and screeching creatures determined to drown them with their sheer weight of numbers.
And Garagold had been right; the Giaks were draining their resources and whittling their resolve down, slowly but surely. He estimated they could hold this fort for another hour perhaps two and then they would be overwhelmed.
Another volley of rifle shot and the Giak assault thinned, no more of them streamed through the breach in the west wall. The attack ended as suddenly as it had begun; as the defenders looked at each other in puzzlement – the reason became terribly clear.
A robed figure stepped through the gap in the stones and in a twisted hand it held a long stave-like spear, topped with a curious looking head, around it burned a dark serpent-like flame.
Harradar’s face went pale and he sucked in his cheeks, looking to the Master Gunner. “Helghast!”
Garagold just gave a resigned nod, stalwart to the last and shouldered his rifle, just in time to see the robed figure level the spear towards a group of riflemen at the back of the keep.
There was a wave of black flame and it washed over the defenders in a final caress, licking from one to the other – it left none alive and reduced them to charred husks
“Retreat!” Garagold bellowed and threw himself flat as another burst of dark fire leapt across the keep; it melted the snow and formed a hissing whisper in the cold air.
Harradar was a little too late and his left foot was caught in the searing wave of energy, his boot burst into flame and he let out a scream. This caused Garagold to rise from the ground with an angry look in his eye and he charged the Helghast at full tilt.
From under the creature’s black hood a pair of glowing eyes lit up with amusement, as it levelled the stave for a final time.
The sun dipped below the horizon and Harradar watched as the Helghast and Master Gunner faced off, he knew the conclusion would end badly for his friend. After all this time to fall like this, was unthinkable.
Then the sky above the dark creature lit up with a phosphorescent white light and a pillar of silver flame rained down, it covered the Helghast from head to toe and for a few moments it was wreathed in this arcane fire.
Garagold skidded to a halt and dropped back, his eyes going wide.
There were other noises that joined the hellish scream from the immolated creature, the Giaks outside the walls that had been eagerly observing the massacre of the Dwarves had been set upon by what sounded like a small army.
From that moment forth Garagold’s only concern was for that of his friend and he ignored the burning creature, he ran across the snow and skidded down on his knees by the side of the Gunner. His friend was pale faced and his ankle smoked with a foul black vapour.
A Giak head rolled into the centre of the keep dead eyes staring upwards at the rapidly darkening heavens. A woman in a dark green and gold-trimmed hooded cloak followed it; she kicked the head towards the nearest wall.
“Attend to the Dwarves Jalavan,” she ordered a young man with sandy blonde hair that stood a pace behind her. “I’ve got business with…this.”
“Aye lady Whitemoon,” Jalavan answered and stepped over towards Garagold and his companion. He felt the cold of the snow against his knees as he knelt down by the angry looking Master Gunner.
“What can you do for him?” Garagold asked with hardening eyes.
“I have a few tricks,” Jalavan quipped and smiled in a reassuring manner. “Your friend’s not going to die today.”
Whitemoon circled her prey and as the fire died down the mangled Helghast hissed in recognition towards her, she offered it a measured smile.
“Kai…”
The creature’s dark robe smouldered and its lips widened in a sneer. The Helghast drew a dark blade from its side and lunged at the woman. Whitemoon stepped nimbly to the side and her own sword met the black metal as its bright steel shone with an unearthly glow.
The combat between Kai and Helghast was an equal one, its sword thirsting to taste her blood and she defending and working on an opening. It was like a measured dance of skill versus malice.
Whitemoon struck the creature a telling blow and its smouldering skin ripped apart, dark smoke boiling from the wound. It gave a shrieking hiss and before it could riposte she attacked again and again.
The light in its eyes went out and it collapsed in the snow, a foul reeking stench followed and all that remained was bubbling black ooze, which had once been the robed creature.
Without a backwards glance Whitemoon sheathed her sword and turned to walk over towards the others. She crossed the snow and stood guard over Jalavan as he worked to ease Harradar’s pain. The Gunner had passed into a fitful stupor and his eyes rolled in their sockets, he became delirious and babbled incoherently.
“I’m grateful for this,” Garagold mumbled and looked towards them both. “I fear I have little with which to repay ye.”
“The Kai seek not repayment or thanks.” Whitemoon pushed a lock of her silver hair back under her hood; it kept her face in the dark and shadow.
“Speak for ye’self,” Jalavan quipped. “The cost of these herbs is…well…put it this way. They’re expensive, but I see by the look in your eye.” He trailed off and continued to work quietly on Harradar’s wounds as Whitemoon’s stern gaze passed over him.
The sounds of battle below them were fading now and the screams of the Giaks lessened, the Master Gunner concluded that this was due to the fact – most of them were dead or dying, but kept his thoughts to himself as night finally claimed the keep.
And so when I wrote that I began to poke around my brain, to create a detailed look at the Great Bor Range, mountain fortress known as Brakanbar (Stormwatch) Keep. I love castles and keeps, where I live there's a lovely if somewhat ruined castle not far away from me that has already served as an inspiration for my next foray into Magnamund.
While the article will be aimed at Lone Wolf, it wouldn't take much fiddling to take it and place it say - in any other setting you wanted, so hopefully nearly everyone will find a use for it.
I'm going to attempt to keep it to the same standard of description/detail as Port Bax and add write-ups of the major NPCs
There will be a history of the Keep as well as numerous plot-hooks and other surprises in store. While I don't tend to design/create and write adventures I am sure there'll be some interesting locales beneath Stormwatch for those people that have a love of delving into such dangerous places.
And of course I'll be attempting to get Hellion to furnish me with pictures of any characters, or even a nice overview pic of the Keep itself. She has already said she'd provide the maps to keep to an overall style as presented in Port Bax.
I'm also going to try and give the Dwarven characters somewhat of a unique feel, attempting to re-write the myth that they are only interested in beer and boom powder. I do see them with a love of battle and definitely quite militant, as proved by Al and his stalwart company over at the TotS.
Anyways, these are ideas and as always this won't be the only thing I plan to look at - so if you've missed the original post on Port Bax (how could you!!! *sniffle*) then you can also post ideas in this thread for future works.
The icy wind blew in fierce angry gusts as it howled across the top of the Great Bor range. It threw snow in dappled white patters across the stone walls of Brakanbar Keep, where the grey had become stained with red.
A fierce battle raged where the foul and loathsome Giaks kept throwing wave after wave of soldiers against the stalwart defence, as if there were no limit to their numbers. All around the shouts and screams of combat rang, punctuated now and then by the unnerving ‘thoom’ of the Dwarven Bor rifles.
A Giak fell to one side, part of its face missing, the still smoking remains cooling rapidly in the slew of snow. Yet still they swarmed the walls, their weapons slashing and hacking as the Dwarves fired another volley.
“Hold the line!” Another great blast and several smaller echoes followed as the next horde of Giak were shredded by shot.
“Is there no end to these damnable things?” Harradar growled as the frost caked on his beard. He began to reload his rifle and slammed the butt of it upon the frozen ground.
The Master Gunner known as Garagold shook his head and hunkered down behind a defence wall. “No Harradar,” he answered with a sigh. “There’s never an end…just a pause in a chapter of our lives.”
A volley of spears sailed overhead and several defenders fell back pierced but still alive; their grunts of pain joined the cacophony of battle.
“I see what you mean,” Harradar set his rifle steady and took aim, felling another Giak with a thunderous crack and whorl of smoke. He notched a small nick into his rifle’s wooden stock and grinned. “I’m three up on you.”
Garagold narrowed his eyes and growled. “This is no competition lad, this is life and death. If we lose this fortress, then there’s little we can do to stem the black tide.”
“Aye,” the other Dwarf began to reload once more, as the Giaks swarmed over the old stone. “Ye’d think they’d have something better to do than to keep throwing themselves at us, adding to the pile of the dead.”
“Wearing us down it is…we’re running low on ammunition and powder.” It was the Master Gunner’s turn to fire his rifle and he winged one Giak, the shot passing clean through the throat of another.
“Two for one,” Harradar growled and his breath blew out in frosty gasps. “Nice one, old man.”
“T’was naught but luck.” The old one kissed his cold knuckles and ducked down behind the wall again. This continued on for the better part of an hour with the seemingly endless howling and screeching creatures determined to drown them with their sheer weight of numbers.
And Garagold had been right; the Giaks were draining their resources and whittling their resolve down, slowly but surely. He estimated they could hold this fort for another hour perhaps two and then they would be overwhelmed.
Another volley of rifle shot and the Giak assault thinned, no more of them streamed through the breach in the west wall. The attack ended as suddenly as it had begun; as the defenders looked at each other in puzzlement – the reason became terribly clear.
A robed figure stepped through the gap in the stones and in a twisted hand it held a long stave-like spear, topped with a curious looking head, around it burned a dark serpent-like flame.
Harradar’s face went pale and he sucked in his cheeks, looking to the Master Gunner. “Helghast!”
Garagold just gave a resigned nod, stalwart to the last and shouldered his rifle, just in time to see the robed figure level the spear towards a group of riflemen at the back of the keep.
There was a wave of black flame and it washed over the defenders in a final caress, licking from one to the other – it left none alive and reduced them to charred husks
“Retreat!” Garagold bellowed and threw himself flat as another burst of dark fire leapt across the keep; it melted the snow and formed a hissing whisper in the cold air.
Harradar was a little too late and his left foot was caught in the searing wave of energy, his boot burst into flame and he let out a scream. This caused Garagold to rise from the ground with an angry look in his eye and he charged the Helghast at full tilt.
From under the creature’s black hood a pair of glowing eyes lit up with amusement, as it levelled the stave for a final time.
The sun dipped below the horizon and Harradar watched as the Helghast and Master Gunner faced off, he knew the conclusion would end badly for his friend. After all this time to fall like this, was unthinkable.
Then the sky above the dark creature lit up with a phosphorescent white light and a pillar of silver flame rained down, it covered the Helghast from head to toe and for a few moments it was wreathed in this arcane fire.
Garagold skidded to a halt and dropped back, his eyes going wide.
There were other noises that joined the hellish scream from the immolated creature, the Giaks outside the walls that had been eagerly observing the massacre of the Dwarves had been set upon by what sounded like a small army.
From that moment forth Garagold’s only concern was for that of his friend and he ignored the burning creature, he ran across the snow and skidded down on his knees by the side of the Gunner. His friend was pale faced and his ankle smoked with a foul black vapour.
A Giak head rolled into the centre of the keep dead eyes staring upwards at the rapidly darkening heavens. A woman in a dark green and gold-trimmed hooded cloak followed it; she kicked the head towards the nearest wall.
“Attend to the Dwarves Jalavan,” she ordered a young man with sandy blonde hair that stood a pace behind her. “I’ve got business with…this.”
“Aye lady Whitemoon,” Jalavan answered and stepped over towards Garagold and his companion. He felt the cold of the snow against his knees as he knelt down by the angry looking Master Gunner.
“What can you do for him?” Garagold asked with hardening eyes.
“I have a few tricks,” Jalavan quipped and smiled in a reassuring manner. “Your friend’s not going to die today.”
Whitemoon circled her prey and as the fire died down the mangled Helghast hissed in recognition towards her, she offered it a measured smile.
“Kai…”
The creature’s dark robe smouldered and its lips widened in a sneer. The Helghast drew a dark blade from its side and lunged at the woman. Whitemoon stepped nimbly to the side and her own sword met the black metal as its bright steel shone with an unearthly glow.
The combat between Kai and Helghast was an equal one, its sword thirsting to taste her blood and she defending and working on an opening. It was like a measured dance of skill versus malice.
Whitemoon struck the creature a telling blow and its smouldering skin ripped apart, dark smoke boiling from the wound. It gave a shrieking hiss and before it could riposte she attacked again and again.
The light in its eyes went out and it collapsed in the snow, a foul reeking stench followed and all that remained was bubbling black ooze, which had once been the robed creature.
Without a backwards glance Whitemoon sheathed her sword and turned to walk over towards the others. She crossed the snow and stood guard over Jalavan as he worked to ease Harradar’s pain. The Gunner had passed into a fitful stupor and his eyes rolled in their sockets, he became delirious and babbled incoherently.
“I’m grateful for this,” Garagold mumbled and looked towards them both. “I fear I have little with which to repay ye.”
“The Kai seek not repayment or thanks.” Whitemoon pushed a lock of her silver hair back under her hood; it kept her face in the dark and shadow.
“Speak for ye’self,” Jalavan quipped. “The cost of these herbs is…well…put it this way. They’re expensive, but I see by the look in your eye.” He trailed off and continued to work quietly on Harradar’s wounds as Whitemoon’s stern gaze passed over him.
The sounds of battle below them were fading now and the screams of the Giaks lessened, the Master Gunner concluded that this was due to the fact – most of them were dead or dying, but kept his thoughts to himself as night finally claimed the keep.
And so when I wrote that I began to poke around my brain, to create a detailed look at the Great Bor Range, mountain fortress known as Brakanbar (Stormwatch) Keep. I love castles and keeps, where I live there's a lovely if somewhat ruined castle not far away from me that has already served as an inspiration for my next foray into Magnamund.
While the article will be aimed at Lone Wolf, it wouldn't take much fiddling to take it and place it say - in any other setting you wanted, so hopefully nearly everyone will find a use for it.
I'm going to attempt to keep it to the same standard of description/detail as Port Bax and add write-ups of the major NPCs
There will be a history of the Keep as well as numerous plot-hooks and other surprises in store. While I don't tend to design/create and write adventures I am sure there'll be some interesting locales beneath Stormwatch for those people that have a love of delving into such dangerous places.
And of course I'll be attempting to get Hellion to furnish me with pictures of any characters, or even a nice overview pic of the Keep itself. She has already said she'd provide the maps to keep to an overall style as presented in Port Bax.
I'm also going to try and give the Dwarven characters somewhat of a unique feel, attempting to re-write the myth that they are only interested in beer and boom powder. I do see them with a love of battle and definitely quite militant, as proved by Al and his stalwart company over at the TotS.
Anyways, these are ideas and as always this won't be the only thing I plan to look at - so if you've missed the original post on Port Bax (how could you!!! *sniffle*) then you can also post ideas in this thread for future works.