Carrying on from my last entry, some early work has now been completed, as well as a number of segments of narrative.
I am still working from the map that comes with the War of the Ring board game, but this is just to allow me to rename all the regions and people it. This will allow me to see each nation in relation to others and as well as work out scale, journey times etc.
An overview of the north west corner of the map.
In the four provinces north of the Tarbet Estuary and west of the Tarbet River, is Clan Moray
Moving west we have the Mountain Orcs who occupy five areas.
Finally, Clan Firth who occupy four regions.
Narrative Segment One.
Baradoc
The northerly wind
drove the snow before it in wild flurries, settling briefly on tree
limbs and branches before again being swept up into the air to
continue its wild dance. It was now past sunset, though little light
had pierced the thick clouds all day long.
In a clearing below
was a small stone cottage, its thatched roof buried beneath many
inches of this white blanket. Smoke rose, and was immediately
snatched away, from the single chimney that alone defied the dancing
crystals to settle upon it. The cottage was divided into two parts,
at one end was the stable, large enough for two horses, though it
presently housed but one. The larger part was a single room, it
contained simple wooden furniture, two large bookcases occupied the
walls each side of the fireplace, a moderately sized kitchen table
bearing numerous items stood against one gable wall, a pair of three
legged stools tucked beneath. The other gable wall was home to a
wooden framed bed. Sacks containing mostly vegetables hung from the
rafters above the larger table. By the fire was a smaller table and a
single rocking chair. A pair of candles assisted the light from the
blazing fire in the hearth to illuminate the room.
Some of that light
fell upon a large hooded crow sitting on a wooden perch who was busy
preening the flight feathers of his right wing, his head twisted
beneath said wing to allow the powerful beak to perform the intricate
task. The single human occupant of the room sat on the rocking chair,
a long handled clay pipe clutched in his left hand. He blew out a
cloud of smoke and smiled in satisfaction, you just couldn't get
better than a pipe filled with Miroatlan tobacco. The empty wooden
bowl and spoon on the table beside him had contained a delicious
rabbit stew, the animal he had collected from one of his snares that
very morning. The only thing missing was a tankard of ale, but he was
not foolish enough to attempt a six mile round trip to the village in
such foul weather. 'He froze to death for want of a quart of ale',
was not the epitath he wanted. No he would go without for a day or
two more, or however long this terrible weather persisted. Now into
the fourth month of the year, it should be Spring, not howling winds
and snow as if still mid winter.
He was concerned for
the people, they had endured similar weather last year, and barely
had enough provisions to get through a normal winter, let alone
another bad one. It had to end soon or starvation and disease would
ravage the land. He reached forward and placed another log onto the
fire, his old bones needed the warmth, at seven score and twelve
years, he really did feel the cold now.
'I'm getting old
Cuthbert.' he said, looking across to the crow who was now working on
his left wing. Startled by the voice the bird briefly froze, looked
up and then continued with the preening process. Baradoc smiled to
himself and took another lungfull of fine Miroatlan leaf.
The following
morning the wind had greatly eased, but the snow continued to fall,
though not as heavy as the previous days. Baradoc took his cloak from
a peg behind the cottage door, picked up an empty wooden pail and
opened the door. He was greeted with a waistdeep drift that would
need clearing if he wished to go outside. Not so Cuthbert, who jumped
down from his perch, hopped over to the door and using the drift as a
springboard soared up into the sky.
Some fifteen minutes
later Baradoc had cleared the snow from the front of the cottage
including the stable door. He opened the top section of the door and
Palliser's head appeared, sniffed the air and then nuzzled Baradoc.
'Good morning my
friend, time for you to stretch your legs,' he said as he stroked the
grey stallions head and neck.With wooden pail in one hand, his staff
in the other, Baradoc made his way down to the stream. Palliser took
the lead breaking down the snow and making a pathway with little
effort. Not so for Baradoc who struggled along behind him using his
staff to keep himself from falling. A thick coat of snow covered ice
was all that could be seen of the stream. Baradoc tapped it with the
bottom of his staff and frowned, too thick to break through with
anything but a large hammer he thought. Baradoc stretched the tip of
his staff over the ice, and recited some archaic verse in a language
unknown to most. The tip of the staff began to turn white, then red
and finally a pale blue shimmering light encased the very tip. He
lowered the tip onto the ice and instantly there was a cloud of steam
as the ice in a six feet circumference of the tip instantly
vapourised, the water beneath bubbling and boiling. Another short
chant and the light faded and disappeared from the staff.
Palliser moved
forward to drink but Baradoc held his neck.
'Wait a moment my
beauty or your tongue will be scalded.' The flow of the stream
quickly dispersed and cooled the boiling water as it continued its
journey beneath the ice. Baradoc filled his pail as Palliser drank
his fill. A loud 'Caw, Caw, Caw' came from one of the surrounding
trees as Cuthbert let everyone know he was in residence.
Narrative Segment Two
Robert, High Chieftain of
Clan Moray trudged through the snow atop the curtain wall that
surrounded his fortified house. The crunch and squeak of the fresh
snow beneath his boots heralded his every step. He made his way to
the gatehouse tower, two sentries stiffened to attention to show
their respect, shields and spears held firmly, one moved to open the
entrance door for the upper battlements. Both hoped he would not
notice the briar with its pot of oats bubbling on top. Robert nodded
and passed through. Inside he climbed the twelve stone steps of the
spiral before opening the trapdoor to the roof. A third sentry, with
the luckless task of manning the tower also stiffened in
acknowledgement of his Chieftain.
Robert smiled at the man,
or should that be boy, he barely looked eighteen.
'Go down and join your
friends, it seems they have a hot breakfast waiting for you.'
The boy blushed and
nodded.
'Thank you my lord.'
The boy scurried down the
stone staircase, his head disappearing as he gently lowered the
trapdoor.
A bowl of hot porridge is
needed on a morning like this he thought to himself as he looked
south from his lofty perch. The fortified house stood on a low hill,
giving a commanding view of the town down below as it stretched down
to shores of the Tarbet Estuary.
It was still snowing, but
not as heavily as it had been these past few days, the wind too had
lessened, from a gale to a gusty wind. He pulled the woolen cloak
around himself, and instantly felt the warmth. It was not coarse wool
that warmed him, but the gossamer thin Elven cloak, expertly stitched
as a cloak lining that worked its magic, for magic is what it must
be. How else could such a flimsy piece of material give such warmth?
Very few people moved
about on the streets of the town, most sensibly stayed indoors by
their hearths, even at this early hour the smoke from countless
chimneys could be seen rising, only to be snatched away by the gusty
wind. Just like his sentries, the people had food to eat even though
this was now the fourth month of the year, a month that should be for
sowing. The ground beneath the deep snow would be frozen solid and
even a plough would make no impression upon it. This was the second
such winter in a row, most unusual for it to last this long. The
first snow had fallen on the eleventh month and had covered the
ground ever since.
After last winter he had
given instructions for extra fields to be ploughed and seeded as the
granaries had barely lasted, it was a good decision, for once again
the granaries were fast emptying even with the extra crops.
He had received regular
reports from the other provinces of Clan Moray, they too had grown
extra, though all the provinces suffered from mostly poor quality
soil, they carefully farmed the few areas that were suitable and
produced acceptable yields. The northernmost povinces of Ascurg and
Othon had to be very creative with farmland for crops, both areas
really only suited for sheep. It was a little better here in Aclal
and Skaoce to the east, also both the latter had large fishing fleets
to reap the benefits of the estuary and sea beyond.
Robert realised that the
snow had stopped. He looked up to see clear patches among the clouds
scudding across the sky. Could this be the end of the snow? He very
much hoped so.
More areas renamed and populated.
The Wood Elves reside in nine regions.
The Hill Dwarves currently have four regions, but this may increase.
Narrative Segment Three.
The Hunting Party.
Rugorim sat motionless
behind a low outcrop of rocks, his head below the skyline. He peered
between two of the rocks, only wide enough to look through with one
eye, but that was enough. His eye flicked upwards, the snow had
stopped some time ago and now although dusk was approaching, the
heavy snow clouds had broken apart allowing clear sky to show
through. He grunted, it would mean any tracks made by the hunting
party would not be covered and hidden.
His eye flicked downwards
once more, settling on the small croft below. A single man, a big
man, was chopping wood, he would have to be taken care of quickly.
Just a small house, barn and livestock shed, he had observed two men,
this one and an older man. At least one woman, possibly two as well
as three children. He would wait until the last light of the day
faded in the west before leaving to rejoin his party.
The attack would be as
last time, in the middle of the night, he and the other nine of his
party would silently descend the slope. Once the door and windows of
the house were covered by bowmen the thatch would be torched. The two
men would be killed as soon as they appeared, easy targets
silhouetted against the flames. The women and children would be bound
and carried off, man flesh for the tribe. The two men would be
butchered where they fell, limbs and head removed to make carrying
easier. They would slip away across the river into Guflon and be well
on the way to the village by morning. Only then would the party feast
on the bodies of the two carcasses.
*************************************
Those Moray Clansmen of
Othon who lived close by, had been alerted by the distant flames
during the night. Now a score of heavily armed men stood by the still
smouldering remains of the house. The thick stone walls stood as
strong as ever but the roof, door and windows had been swallowed by
the fire.
The dawn light illuminated
the bloodstained ground outside the doorway, telling its own story,
as did the multiple Orc footprints all around the croft area, the
prints moving off east toward the Tarbet River and beyond into
Guflon.
Even with twenty men,
following the Orcs into their own lands would be suicidal, nothing
less than a full clan army could hope to enter Guflon, exact revenge
and return safely.
At that moment the hunting
party, now well into home territory, was gorging on the butchered
men. The two women and three children would suffer the same fate
later once the party reached their village.
Much more of the map has now been renamed and populated.
No name for this race of men yet, though I am using the Men of Gondor figures to represent them.
Here is the Kingdom of Samada. Rohan figures for this nation.
The as yet, empty lands to the east.
More land in the north east.
The far north east, still some region names to be decided at this time.
Narrative Segment Four.
A shadow in the sky.
Eadfric scanned the sky to
the east, he screwed up his eyes in concentration, trying to confirm
what he thought he saw. It was far away in the skies above Kibinul
but close enough to the border of his home province of Etrait so be
seen. The tiny object remained tantalizing just out of focus.
He carried on with his
work of ploughing, the two oxen moved forward on his command, he kept
glancing to the east just in case the mysterious object came close
enough to identify. He fought with the plough, keeping it on course
as it turned over the soil. He had heard the winter had been very bad
in the north, very bad indeed.
It had even snowed this
far south, unusual, but not unheard of, ankle deep at its worst but
it had quickly melted away.
He approached the end of
the field and without any word of command, the pair of powerful
beasts began to swing to the left, dragging the heavy plough behind.
Only after the difficult manoeuvre was complete, and Eadfric was once
again facing east, did he look once more into the sky.
The shock was immediate,
he shouted the command to stop the team, the object was now no more
than two miles away, high, but there was no mistaking what it was.
The long neck and tail extended front and rearwards respectively from
the large but streamlined body. Two huge leather like wings spread
out to each side as the creature glided effortlessly across the sky.
'Mauhak!' He spat out the
word. He had not seen a Mauhak in over twenty years, why should one
suddenly appear now? He thought. He could just make out the tiny
shape of the Gruk rider, he felt a chill, it was a bad omen. As he
watched, the creature gave two or three flaps of its great wings,
smoothly altering course toward the east. It was both magnificent
and terrifying at the same time.
Eadfric stood and watched
for some time, as the great flying creature slowly grew smaller and
smaller until it was no longer visible. With a quick command the oxen
began to move again. He would report this sighting when he next
visited the town, or earlier if a patrol of Samada warriors should
pass by, they regularly patrolled the eastern border of the kingdom.
The Facebook page for this project is now public.
The Chronicles of Culm.
All the latest news will be posted there, as well as on this blog.
Thank you for reading.
