An Ancients Tales: Stories from Aldoun's life

[Aldoun]

As more and more of the DMFA community begin to post stories based on their fursonas I figured I'd do pretty much the same.

Now with this going I'll see if I can't include some characters from those of you who wish to have yours included. PM me or simply post your character and I'll see about including him/her/it in at least one story. But it might take a bit of time so don't expect to be included just like that. And it mustn't be one who would appear in this storyline that I've started, there'll be others as well and a few stand-alone stories to come.

As for those stories that's come up thus far the first few are in this post and simply going down.
The rest will, once they are posted, be listed in the Index just here.
Why must I care?: Chronologically the start of Eric's Saga set about 1000 b.c (before comic) and introduces Aldoun with entourage and Eric.
Old friends, new companions: Picks up just after the last one and brings in Lineer and Cathy.
Old friends, old memories: Happens at the same time as the last one and brings in a bit of information on Jorund.
The Locker-room Incidents: Part one: Utterly random departure from Eric's Saga, a few scraps of clarity might make it into it during later segments of it.


Why must I care?

A lean shadow hugged the underside of a cliff-ledge overlooking Jorund's Folly, an abandoned mining site. Poor old Jorund had according to local lore found a small vein of silver ore here and in hopes of finding the mother lode he'd poured his fortune into it, but the silver had eluded him and he'd supposedly died a pauper. But that was now several centuries in the past and no one now living in the area had actually known the poor soul. In the afternoon sun many a shadow could be found in the gorge, but only one of them was alive.

Damnation, someone's already here. I guess I was a fool to think it might be easy. The shadow thought as he saw the two sentries posted by the dilapidated shacks near the mine's entrance. A rat and a fox both clad in rugged leather armour, boiled by the looks of it, and armed with crossbows and sturdy, broad-bladed spears kept a lookout for anyone going up the gorge. Even if they didn't more than glance at the sky it was clear that any attempt to approach form that direction would be spotted, and the gorge offered little in the way of cover for those approaching while at the same time pretty effectively hiding the mining camp.

Surveying this the shadow concluded that these where most likely the bandits who had been plaguing the surrounding area for a few months now, always striking in a new place along the mountains or paths so as to confound any attempt to catch them. He hadn't been looking for them; he had no quarrel with them as far as he knew, but had come here because of an item that he had to remove.

Seems they've gotten used to the area, lay of the land and all such. Came his own thoughts, but then another one chipped in.
Let's just hope they haven't found our little trinket, it could be deep trouble for us after all. You know what the council would do if they found out Aldoun. A female voice, one which gave the mental impression of  a black leather jacket with rivets, probably spelling out something that wasn't appropriate in finer company.
I know Rashira, that's why I ensured that breaching any of the wards would warn us. They've breached the first one, but that's still a long way to go before reaching the final one. Came Aldoun's answer, and then yet another voice got into it.
Both of you shut up for a moment, I've just picked up something that gives us a bone to pick with these dregs. The male voice sounded rather dusty, an archivist or librarian who rarely left his charges was the image conjured up by it.
What could that be I wonder? These lowlifes can't really have anything we would desire and none of our relations have anything against them either. Came Rashira's voice once more.
They've taken slaves, fresh and young, most likely from the last raid they did. And they're not used for mining either if you catch my drift. Following the archivist's revelation there's something that might be called a mental silence, no voices at least. But instead of voices a seething mix of rage, disapproval, disgust and sadness was present.

Time to kill. Finally Aldoun had spoken up again, and none opposed him regarding this decision. They had no love for bandits anyway, but would most likely have left them alone while retrieving their target. Now however another matter had entered the equation and the brigands would find no more mercy at his hands than at those of the court. As the shadow moved, stealth no longer mattering, his, or their, form was revealed. An incubus with bat wings and with shadows clinging to his body, now for intimidation rather than stealth.

As he glided down towards the sentries he subtly altered their perceptions of the area, deepening shadows and distorting perspectives. The startled sentries snapped up their crossbows as they scanned the gorge, all the while backing towards the mine's entrance. As the fox saw the approaching horror his scream of warning became a shriek of terror and his shot went wild. The rat fired as well and saw his bolt go straight through the target and simply took to his heels and not even wasting breath on screaming. He heard the fox fall just behind him and felt the blood splatter on him, he dared not look back to see how his companion had died.

The brigand fell apart before Aldoun as his tentacles had sliced the unfortunate soul into a number of bloody bits. But the soul went free; he'd deemed it pure enough to be allowed to go. Looking into the now blank eyes of the fox he saw that the lad had couldn't have been more than a score of summers old, most likely not even that old. But despite the youth of the butchered he felt no remorse, he'd been granted an afterlife despite throwing in his lot with these robbers, murderers and rapists. But the old incubus doubted that he'd find more than a few others among the brigands who he'd let keep their souls. Setting of towards the mine he let his distortion of the perceived reality go on ahead, they would know terror before they died. Rat's frantic dash for safety would give the other's warning, but not that it would help them...

His killing spree throughout the former mine had left a trail of bloody carnage, and he'd yet to even be injured by the terrified brigands. But now he sensed that whoever was leading these lowlifes was near, someone with an aura of magic. Rounding the next corner he saw that for once he was expected, half-a-dozen extra tough bandits led by what he recognised as a demonic ram, the wings pretty much gave it away. The bandits had rallied around their leader with four of them having crossbows ready to fire and the other two with swords at the ready. He did notice that there was one more who hung back, a weasel with his crossbow not held at the ready. But his senses focused on the demon, the one he would have to be wary of here.

"Why do come here, bounty? Revenge? Simple bloodlust? No matter, you die NOW!" At the sound their leaders cry the brigands fired their crossbows, for once the bolts flew true. A nasty wound was seemingly unavoidable, and then a small portal opened in the path of the bolts. The portals exit was just behind the main cluster of brigands, and two fell with their own bolts embedded in their backs. Seeing this those who remained dropped their crossbows and drew swords, all but the one at back. The demon wasn't about to be deterred by the portal shield however and just as it winked out of existence he threw a fierce blast of fire at the shadowy incubus. This dweomered attack was to fast to be redirected, at least over this distance. Aldoun does his best with a quick counter-blast of cold, but the attack goes in even in its now diminished form. As it impacts the incubus is obscured and a cheer rings out from the brigands, apart from the demon and the weasel.

But the blast had not carried enough power to fully breach Aldoun's natural resistance and little more than singed fur and a slightly bruised ego had been suffered, the later stinging slightly worse than the former. As the blast dissipated he leapt forth with half a dozen bladed tentacles extended. Whether desperation or bravery made the sword armed beings meet his charge he neither knew nor cared, they fell in shredded heaps anyway. As he beheaded the last of them, a scarred wolf, he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his back and he fell to his knees. As his vision swam for a movement he instinctively rolled to the left and saw a flaming fist smash into the ground where he had lain a moment before sending rock shards flying.

He had been lax for a moment and had now paid the price, but he could still pull through. As he readied himself to avoid the next blow and then counterattack he saw the demon suddenly stagger, the flames surrounding him reduced to virtually nothing. Neither knowing nor caring what had struck his foe he surged to upwards, a pair of tentacles embraced the demons neck before closing like a metal scissor; the demon's head flew of with a surprised look on his face. As the body fell forward Aldoun saw what had caused the ram to stagger, a crossbow quarrel stuck right between the shoulder blades. Not a killing blow, there wasn't enough power behind the shot, but a brave attempt.

Seems the weasel had gathered the courage to shot his own supposed leader in the back just why was a question that quickly began to nag at the collective mind of Aldoun. As he bent down to examine the now headless corpse his mental roommates began to speculate. Why do you suppose that happened? Rashira wasn't one for to much deep thinking, but she didn't like it when she didn't have a decent explanation. Possibly he's been abused, seriously mistreated perhaps? Came the ever calm voice of the Archivist.

As Aldoun fishes out a key ring from one of the demon's few pockets a fourth voice cuts in, yet another male one. This one seems the most easygoing of all the ones so far. You forget Jorund and his pact.
What of it Nyrath?
Part of the bargain stated that he or his descendants would look up on the mine at least once every year, seems that this time the bandits where here first.
Now that you mention it I can see the family resemblance, but why work with the bandits?
Survival, what else? He couldn't take on them all by himself and he certainly couldn't leave so soon after joining up without being killed. Besides he's but a kid.
Meanwhile Aldoun was looking at the rather disturbed features of the weasel lad, and it was now clear that he'd aged beyond his years. While still a kid as Nyrath said Aldoun could see that the time spent with the bandits had taken its toll, the lad might have passed for someone twice his age. The poor lad was staring in mixed relief and terror at the shadowy from that Aldoun presented, seems the kid recognises the form from the legends and stories told around the fires at dusk. The Shadow, mute avenger and slayer of the fell, a cold blooded killer who never let his prey escape.

At the moment Aldoun is silently cursing the fact that he's supposed to be mute in this aspect, and he can't give it all away right now. He flicks the key ring to the adolescent and then carves into the rock wall using one of his tentacles. "Free the others, and as the Archivist finds the boys name after careful and discreet probing her adds "Eric" at the end. As relief floods and drives out most of the terror in Erics face he takes off to do just that.

As Eric darts of to free the slaves, Aldoun knows that the lad won't abandon them, the aged incubus sets of even deeper into the mine. He passes the wards and illusions he left here centuries ago, passing nearly effortlessly due to his knowledge of just how to dispel them. He doesn't bother to leave them in place; he's going to remove the item they're protecting anyway. Soaring up a vertical shaft then going back over the tunnel he just passed through he takes quick turn left and then it's straight down again, and by now he's out beyond the mine itself. As he moves he ponders what he should tell the lad, or how to explain at least. Then he catches himself, Why must I care?

Entering the jagged cavern where the item was hidden he shudders slightly, it hadn't been half as jagged when he left the damned artefact down here. And there it hung, suspended in the air as he'd left it. A weapon quite possibly older than himself, it was a mighty thing indeed. Angel Slayer, or as he'd first learned of it, the Hand of Lucifer. While he'd long ago resigned himself to never quite knowing why his mistress did what she did he still couldn't help but wonder why he'd been charged as its guardian. The damned weapon was deceptively simple in its design as it hung there, a simple three foot blade of unremarkable iron, a blood trough and a simple crossbar and pummel cast in bronze. Despite the simple design of it was a thing to be feared, it would gaud its wielder onwards to despicable deeds and to, as its name says, slay angels. He could thank his mistress however for the protection he enjoyed, it could not exert any pressure on him. Taking the blade finding the scabbard he'd once fitted it into he's surprised to find that the bindings had been unbound, evidently the cursed blade had greater power than he had been informed. From there he simply straps the scabbard unto his back and sets of one more, this time cloaking his presence as well as he can.

On his way out of the mine he sees Eric slowly guiding the newly freed slaves out of the dark depths. The brave little being was carrying a lantern with his left hand and supporting a seriously abused mouse girl, she couldn't be older than twelve or thirteen. Behind them came nearly a score of ragged and dishevelled beings, all showing signs of some form of abuse but with a spark of hope in their eyes. As it happened one of the fallen bandits lay just ahead, his neck snapped. The mouse looked away from the sight while a few of those behind wonder just what could have caused this. They clearly didn't believe that the weasel leading them out could have snapped the neck of the burly looking black bear in front of them. "The Shadow came." Is all the explanation that Eric gives, and all that seems to be needed.

Seeing the hope in the eyes of those people, the relief that they had been freed and the joy that they would get to see their relatives again Aldoun is reminded again why he must care. If he doesn't do it he can't count on others doing it, if he didn't do it he wasn't sure he'd manage to live with himself in the long run. And he now resolves to give young Eric a parting gift. As he runs he reaches inside the leather breastplate he wears to cover his clan marking and pulls out a fairly simple pendant, an obsidian orb set in a silver disk with a silver chain bearing it all. He stops once he reaches the surface and uses his tentacles to quickly scrape a level surface in the rock, fit to be used as a paving stone in a temple. Into this he carves a message for the lad, he's going to see if he can't make a successful adventurer out of the boy.

"Here young Eric, a gift to you for courage shown this day.
Seek out the sage Jorund in Zinvth, show him this.
He will know its meaning and tell you just what
transpired this day. Listen to his advice, we will meet again."

Now he'd just have to check up on old Jorund, for a being the rascal had lived a really long time. As far as Aldoun knew his grandchildren had grandchildren who where nought but dust by now, all part of the bargain made. The now grey-haired weasel had served well over the years and now would most likely agree to the plan that was taking Aldoun's mind, much to the delight of Nyrath and the others who shared the space. He lays down the pendant just below the graven message, confident that none but Eric would dare take it among those who would soon emerge from the mines depths. And right on time he spots a light coming round the first corner down in the mine, and he takes flight.

Eric and the others emerge a few moments later, and all of them seem to have a hard time deciding which the more eye-catching piece is, the remains of the fox or the graven message with the pendant. Soon they all focus on the message and pendant, and Eric slowly approaches and then lifts the pendant equally slowly. Now the groups stares focus on the on him as the pendant slowly turns and then catches the last of the afternoon sun, glinting as it does. He mumbles a bit, "Zinvth? Jorund?" Then he looks at those around him before saying out aloud. "Regardless of what the message says I'll see you safe first." And with that he sets of down the gorge, where they'll soon set up camp. Some of the group carry weapons they took from the fallen bandits, others carry some food supplies and yet more do what they can to support those who are having trouble walking on their own.

From his lofty perch under the cliff-ledge Aldoun looks down and smiles, he's heard it all and feels that he was right to spare the lad. Not only did it appease what remained of his conscience after all these years but he'd seen to it he'd have something to do for the next couple of years, and that was just as important in his eyes after such a long life. But for now he'd have to retrieve the sister of the blade on his back and try to convince his mistress to hold them in his place for at least a time. Then he'd go see Jorund.


Old friends, new companions

As Aldoun had gone and retrieved the sister of Angel Slayer, Demon Bane, he'd gotten thinking again. It would be best to have someone he could trust accompanying Eric, someone he knew would like the plan as well. He figures Lineer would go for it, lode spotting isn't to exciting a job. Now to figure out where old Seven-eyes is holed up, he reaches inside his leather breastplate and draws forth another pendant of the same design he gave to Eric; with this he can pinpoint any of the other holders of such an item. A slight bit of effort later he finds Lineer's location, and is a bit surprised by the fact that it's within a few miles of the road to Zinvth and only a stone's throw from the gorge where he last left Eric. At least it gives him a reason to accompany the lad form early on. With both of the blades tightly secured he opens a portal, warp-aci aren't really his thing, and steps through.

While a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step this one also ends in that same step. The feeling one gets from traversing one of these portals is one that isn't good on a full stomach, but he's used to it by now. Near the head of the gorge leading to Jorund's folly there's a pair of campfires burning, seems they've put up camp just after making some distance between themselves and the dead by the mine. And moving along the same cliff-face that he himself had used earlier a slightly deeper shadow can be seen. After adjusting his eyes a bit and doing a slight bit of magic to give heat-vision it becomes clear without a doubt that it's Lineeer moving along there, most likely going to figure out just why a group can be camped so closed to the mine. Figuring it's best to get a move on Aldoun flies in and lands on the cliff-ledge that he had hidden underneath twice in the last twenty-four hours. As Lineer draws close he notices that the ledge is occupied and then he seems to recognise his old friend.

"Ye got anythin' to do with tha folks campin' down there?" Came Lineer's voice as he moves onto the ledge, all eight legs making it before he finishes the question. Lineer was a mythos, spider based and with more eyes and limbs than you'd find with most.
"Yes, I killed their captors and enabled their escape."
"How come ye even was here? Tha scum hurt any o' yer own?"
"No, but their leader had breached the first of the wards down in the mine. Turns out they held old Jorund's descendant too."
"Old Jorund, he's still alive ain't he?"
"Yes, he's still alive and kicking although he's not getting any younger. Young Eric down there in the camp is one of his descendants, doesn't seem to know the full background to this place though."
"Ye haven't told 'im?
"Not as such, I've given him directions though. I'm thinking of what to do during the next few years, and I'm certain you've figured out what I'm thinking."
"Aye, I know what ye mean. Well, since ye wiped out tha lowlifes I've been trackin' I think I can help ye out. How much ye wantin' me too tell 'im?"
"Don't tell him anything clear; pose as a friendly traveller that's all. Since you're here already you can simply say you came to try and find out where the raids where coming from. Help them home and then just make sure you get to tag along with the lad, he needs someone experienced with him. By the way, you said you came here for the bandits, I thought you sold your skills to find ores and water nowadays."
"Not to exciting work that, came here after hearin' about tha raids figuring I'd cash in on the bounty. Since I'll be doin' a bit o' a favour fer ye could ye perhaps give me tha bounty rights?"
"Heh, no worries old friend, I'll cash it in your name and then hand you the reward."
"Alright then ye old stray, I'll help ye out. See ye soon then, at least sooner than last time."

With that said Lineer turns around and heads for the camp down below in the gorge while Aldoun heads of to see about the safe storing of the blades on his back. As the suns first rays can be seen coming over the horizon the spider mythos comes down the gorge, making no effort to hide his presence. A few cries of alarm come from the camp before he arrives to be confronted by Eric and three of the former slaves, the ones fit to fight. "Who are you and why do you come here?!"

"I'm Lineer and I'm here to congratulate ye it seems. I came here to find tha source of tha raids but I find they've all been killed, since yer the ones camped here I figure at least some o' did it." The firelight and the suns reflected light revealed in at least some detail what the mythos looked like. A spiders hind quarters and a more humanoid torso, all clad in an exoskeleton, as he speaks it's clear that there's a pair of fangs in his jaws and his seven eyes rather angular eyes are arranged in three layers with a central larger one, a slightly unnerving sight for those not used to the sometimes bizarre appearance of mythos. A long cloak is drapped across his shoulders and back and the hood's pulled up, the straps of a backpack can be seen as well, apart from that he's not wearing anything.

"Why should I trust you?"
"Fer one I came openly, I ain't being hostile. Secondly I've been doing surveyin' in tha area fer years now so at least some o' ye should recognise me." The mythos' hands where currently clasped in front on him, at least the first pair; his second was currently tight against his back so as to not be seen. He'd been around for several years in the general area, but he'd pretty much never shown more than one pair of hands; it was something he'd picked up from Aldoun.

There was a murmur of confirmation from behind Eric at least some of the escapees had seen him around. The mouse lass that Eric had supported earlier during their flight from the mines had seen him magically repair a large crack in a stone desk and others told of other incidents where he'd been seen helping people for little or sometimes no pay. "Seems you're trusted by the others so I'll do the same, care to help us get to safety?"
"No problem with that, I'll gladly help ye get to tha nearest town."
"Right then, you'll have to help those who're not fit to walk since quite frankly you're the one who's strongest, the rest of us have been through a bit."
"As ye wish." The spider-kin moves over to the nearest of those in need of help, a young lad with a splinted leg. "Let me help ye up lad, up on me back an' hold on." He helped the lad to his foot; the other couldn't support him right now, and then lifts the young one up on his back. Around them the camp is being packed up the former slaves prepare to move out, they won't make all that good time due to weakness and injuries but are determined to get home as quickly as possible.

Three days later Eric can at last head of towards Zinvth and his meeting with the sage Jorund, still unaware their blood-tie. He isn't alone however since the mouse lass, having lost her family, is determined to follow him. Turns out her name is Cathy and she's a bit older than the mere twelve or thirteen summers she seems but still only fourteen. They arrive at the Inn of the Stone Angel, a strong stone building that seems to have been made to withstand a small siege, after having trudged for an hour through heavy rain at the end of the day. Exhausted they push open the heavy steel and oak door and then fail to notice the unusual silence before being hit in the back of the head with leather bound clubs.

Following a mere stone's throw back in the rain is Lineer, he's yet to officially join up with Eric and is hoping for a chance at the inn. Just after the pair in front of him, out of sight to those without truly exceptional eyesight, heads indoors he senses something is wrong. He has a strong connection to the earth and stone that he threads on and he can feel that a number of things aren't making sense up ahead. He can't feel anyone being behind the desk despite there being four people inside the main room, not counting the pair he just saw go in. There's also the fact that there's two people lying against the stone floor in the cellar, and he just noticed that the young lad and lass hit the floor. As the last bit happens he picks up the pace and within moments arrives at the now once more closed door.

He knows this place well; he helped build it two hundred years ago. The stones are anchored in the bedrock and the place could truly withstand a siege, provided that whoever tried to gain entry wasn't an earth-mage who had helped build the place. He quickly has the stone anchoring the doors hinges pull itself away leaving the door just about to topple over given even a slight push. It doesn't get a slight push; it gets over half-a-ton of charging mythos kicking it down and bringing the unfortunate being behind it down with it, he's not about to get up again anytime soon after that. The three others in the main room turn away from the pair on the floor and see an angry creature just having charged the six inch door down on top of their comrade. As Lineer lays eyes on that trio he concludes they have to be bandits who'd been away when Aldoun hit their headquarters, judging from their looks they'd been hunting.

The most unfortunate trio of brigands feel they have no choice but to fight, but the situation didn't favour them at all. Their foe was obviously stronger than they, and the fact that it wasn't armed or armoured simply made it worse since anything fighting like that most likely didn't think it was worth the bother. The main room was well lit by the mage-lights in the ceiling and the rooms was fairly full of tables and chairs so their movements where hampered. But they try to fight their way past the creature anyway; perhaps one of them would make it. The first one takes a swing with the same club he'd used to clubber Cathy, and is alarmed as it's seized in a stony fist and as it's squeezed into splinters he himself is slammed by the other and equally stone fist. He loses conscience as he slams against the desk of solid stone, but has time to see one of his partners being punched in the face, chest and gut at the same time. The last one thinks he's made it but simply runs face first into a set of horizontal stone bars now blocking the doorway, and he breaks into tears before being knocked out from behind. All in all it had taken less that a thirty seconds from the door coming down to the last of the bandits falling. And then, with what seems an utter lack of drama sense, thunder rolls.

When the young pair comes too an hour later a couple of things have changed, the four bandits are bound with stone bands in the cellar, the door's back where it should be, the inn keeper and his wife has been let out and are preparing a good meal, and there's a nice set of stone moulded tankards sitting on the table in the room. As Eric lets out a low groan from the bed Lineer looks up from working on another tankard. "So yer awake now, that was a nasty bump ye got on yer head."
"Uh, what happened?"
"Ye got knocked out by a few bandits that'd gotten in. Yer lucky they didn't have much time with ye an' tha lass."
"What happened to them then?"
"I did, hit 'em fast an' hit 'em hard as they say."
"What about Cathy?"
"Tha lass's lying next to ye, still out cold. Should come to in a little while, most likely in time fer supper. By the way, where ye two goin'?"
"Zinvth, why do you ask?"
"Just wondered why ye happened to be going tha same way as me. I happen to be goin' there too, mind if I tag along."
"Now that you've saved us I don't think I can refuse."
"Hah, good to know lad."


Old Friends, Old Memories

Zinvth lay within sight of the forest edge. The old, powerful and magical city had an understandably long history and numerous powerful individuals either lived there or passed through it regularly. And all with the sanction and protection of the demons who had once founded it and now ruled. Aldoun had nothing against demons in general provided they didn't go on rampages, which was all too common, and he actually had a number of demon descendants. Just how he could have descendants of a different species was something that he knew would confound ordinary biologists not from his world, he simply considered genetics a bit iffy when so much natural magic is involved.

The ancient incubus takes a little while to simply admire the view, and then he opens a portal to one place he knows he can go without causing a stir. As he steps out of the slit in reality his nose picks up the smell of chocolate, butter, flour and a myriad of other smells of a working sweet bakery. As he's appeared on the fourth floor of this rather nice six story building he proceeds to take the stairs next to him down. The third floor gave the impression of being used solely for the bakery, and none of the handful of workers took any noticing the feline going past downwards. Second floor was evidently mostly customer seating and service. Half full even this early in the morning although even at a glance it was evident that it was mostly creatures in at this hour but a cluster of what was most likely beings sat close to the serving desk. Now he was noticed by the staff, pretty unavoidable since he nearly collided with one of them when he stepped of the stairs.

"Hey! Watch where you're go... Aldoun?" was the words first spoken by the startled badger, the clan's double white/black mark clearly visible on his forehead.
"Sorry Harold, I was simply lost in the luxurious smells of the bakery."
"Thanks I guess. Um, anything you want?"
"Yes in fact there is, what do you stock at the moment in the way of chocolate? I trust your judgement in what to pick, and the more the better."

Some time later the multipersonal incubus arrived at the door of Jorund the sage laden with enough chocolate and pastries to kill a pair normal people due to sugar overload, a magical metabolism and a dozen wingtentacles were good things to have. The sheer amount of goods that he'd bought was a testimony to the skill of his great-great-great-great-great-great-grandson Harold when it came to working with chocolate and other pastries. After Aldoun knocked on the door it took a few moments until the door was opened by a weasel with greying hair. "Oh, it's you. Do come in, there should be room somewhere for what you've brought."

A few minutes later with most of the goods put away Jorund and his newly arrived guest sits down in one of the many libraries inside the rather roomy home of the aged weasel. The comfy leather armchairs and the other furniture inside the spacious dwelling spoke of long use by caring owners, well to do ones too judging by the simple elegance and marvellous woodwork. "So, what brings you here old friend?" Said Jorund as he poured himself a glass of rather fine wine.
"Several things, first of these is that the deal is in need of some changing." Came Aldoun's reply as he was beginning on a rather fine bit of chocolate cake.
"How so?"
"I had to retrieve the blade; the mine wasn't as safe anymore."
"Had someone found the wards or what?"
"The first one had been breached; a demon and his brigand followers had set up base inside the mine. They're no longer a threat but one of the things that transpired there is the second reason for my visit."
"What would that be, apart from possibly finding a new hiding place for the blade. Since I know you could do that as well I wonder what it could be."
"One of your descendants is coming here, prime hero material to boot. I've set Lineer on getting the lad here intact but the boy doesn't know the history behind the mine or that you're still alive."
"So you want me to fill him in, anything else I should do? I'll gladly help of course."
"Yes there is something you could help with." At this point Aldoun reaches behind the chair he's sitting in and pulls forth the pieces of a suit of armour made from what seems to be crocodile skin sized to fit someone of roughly Jorund's stature. Scratched and with a few scorch marks it still seems a serviceable piece of combat gear. "This rather nifty piece already has a number of enchantments on it but it lacks any resistance to heat, cold and the other elements. If you could manage to see to that within the next two or three weeks it would be quite fine, I'll see to whatever arms needs the lad might have."

Jorund gets up and examines the suit. He's a skilled enchanter now after studying magic for nearly half-a-millennia and can feel that the torso piece he holds is both old and quite well enchanted, despite the beaten up appearance it is actually in pristine condition; the look is merely due to an adjustable illusion woven into the scales. A gives a low whistle as he feels the age of the armour, it has withstood the ravages of war and combat for longer than Jorund can trace his family tree, and after all his years he's gotten pretty far on that. The traces the now healed areas where ballista shots, arrow storms and battleaxes have cut into and sometimes through the suits protection, at least five of those now healed scars proved fatal to the wearer. When he feels that he's probed it enough for the moment he smiles, this would certainly serve well in protecting his blood relation.

"Impressive is it not? Just state what you need to add at least some elemental protection to it and I'll supply you with whatever you need. I'll be sticking around for a while, in the end I'll head out alongside the lad, after giving him a bit of training of course." The ancient feline had finished his delicious cake and was now browsing through the nearest book titles to see if his old friend had added anything new since his last visit.
"Oh yes it's impressive, I can't figure out where you got it from but that doesn't matter. I'll need a couple of things to get it done in time. Fire elemental essence for one, and it wouldn't hurt to have a bit left over afterwards, and ice from the core of a glacier along with diamonds used in an ice golem for the basic stuff of heat and cold. For acid I figure I'll need gold taken from the alkaline desert of Thei'll Ba'vroun, lightning will require sap from the gaoushi trees of Brivaild and heartwood from the same. Get that to start with and I'll have a proper list for the rest and I can get started, it should be ready in about two weeks if we get going soon enough."

As Aldoun left little over half an hour later Jorund touched the pendant tucked against his chest, the silver and obsidian of it felt like it had done little over six hundred years ago. Reassuring him that he had the trust and support of such an ancient creature as Aldoun; an incubus older than most living creatures around today. In the early years of his "retirement" he'd feared that boredom would claim him eventually, but Aldoun had supplied him with enough to keep him occupied all these centuries. This latest project involving a descendant of himself was a bit bigger than the others before it, but since the bloodline was there it was most likely what made him feel like that. 

[Tapewolf]

I have mixed feelings about this.  It's well-written, and it's probably the best description of 'cubi combat that I've seen so far.  Don't forget that that Demons can also make themselves razor-sharp, as Dan found out the hard way, but on the other hand 'cubi have tentacles.

The drawback to your story is it's very violent.  It's psychotic killing sprees like this that give 'cubi a bad name

I guess I'll have to post Jakob's early backstory too now.  I've been threatening to do that for a while now.

**EDIT**
And -1 point for killing wolves. :twisted

[Aldoun]

I can understand the mixed feelings, but it's only half of the story, which incidentally is now completely up. He's been around for a long time and can in many regards be seen as a traditionalist. His mental problems don't help either really.

And I can take that penalty, I'll keep score as this progresses.

[Netami]

Heh, cool story there. I wonder where he fits into the timeline.

[Aldoun]

He's old enough to have counted his age in five digits when the great war started, but he's actually not particulary powerful considering that age.

This does take place about a millenia before the comic itself, so its a long while back. More info on Aldoun's history will come up, but a fair deal was spent in different dimensions and planes of existence. And a tad more info on his mistress will be forthcoming later on.

[Netami]

Neat,  I dont have a whole lot on the timeline going on around 1000 B.C.

But damn he's old. Fa'Lina is only in the four digit age range, and she's supposedly one of the most powerful. I'm surprised you haven't gone tri-wing, though it'd be an interesting tidbit to see if cubi evolve multiple personalities instead of rebuffering their own to tri-wing power. Just an alternatre evolution for a primitive cubi, maybe? Fun stuff, though maybe not canon-friendly.

[Aldoun]

He's found a way to channel the power he gets into prolonging his own life, and part of his power is also laying in stasis so as to quickly provide fuel for spells or healing. Due to this he can go for a lot longer than most, but he's not as powerful in a direct manner.

And while he might achieve tri-wing status fairly soon if he set himself to it he doesn't have the drive. Someday he'll cross the line but he's taking his time, to him having a purpose is more impoertant than having power.

As for his mulitple personalities, they've come from different sources. Not all have shown themselves thus far but those that have are three of the oldest. I'll see about having another chapter/story up soon. As it turns out I'll most likely be alternating between telling the story radiating out from this and others from Aldoun's past.

[Aldoun]

At least part of the next chapter's up.

[Aldoun]

Entirety of next chapter is up. Opinions and comments appreciated.

[Aldoun]

For those who wonder a new chapter is now up, albeit a bit shorter than the previous ones. And I'll take requests of inclusion in future stories, pretty much like Furrae Chronicles do.

[Aldoun]

Its' been quite a while since I posted anything in this thread so I figured I'd post a little something I've been working on. While it's originally written for another forum, and thus far incomplete, I figured I'd at least see what kind of response it gets here.



The Locker-room Incidents: Part one

The Locker-room such an ordinary name for such an unusual place. Only a handful even know just what this room once connected to, now it's just the Locker-room. Only a few more even know that the room even exists inside the rather nondescript building, those that do tend not to bother with it. This nondescript and quiet existence isn't going to last though, and the end of it begins with the arrival of one known as Velonia seeking a place to hide and sleep. Just why she needed hiding wasn't relevant to begin with, or know for that matter, she simply was the first one to enter the surprisingly clean place for weeks. But the strange cleanliness wasn't something that bothered Vel* since for all she knew it might be regularly cleaned. Finding a suitable locker she simply went inside and went to sleep, for her it was pretty much perfect; who'd search for her in here?
(*We'll see about a description later okay?)

As it turned out someone had seen her come in and now that someone had revealed himself; Lone, also known as Lone Wolf the King of all Wolves. His title might be questioned at times, but being on his sixth body* and still being the same person he could at least claim some legitimacy, and his edicts where certainly few and actually enforcing them was even rarer and thus he was simply accepted for the most part. Why he was here right now, or why he was basically the size of a small puppy at the moment where points that would remain unknown. What was known was that he'd just managed to get a lock onto the locker in which Vel was sleeping. How he managed it with those small paws wasn't too clear, most likely one of the reasons he'd managed to secure his title. Why he was cackling to himself wasn't all to clear either, a good laugh would be more like him. Might be the size thing, probably is.
(*Quite how he manages that is not going to be described here, sorry if you actually thought so.)

Quite how he managed to climb up to the slits on the locker doors with a bottle clutched in his mouth is another mystery, it's not like there's a lot of han... paw-holds on the smooth metal of the locker. But how he clambered up isn't as important as the contents of the bottle that he then opened and basically poured into the locker. It seems to be moths, genetically engineered moths*, to eat as much clothing as possible. Poor girl's giggling; evidently it tickles quite a lot. She doesn't seem aware of what's happening at the moment either.¨
(*Just how they where manipulated isn't know either so don't bother asking.)

After a few moments a loud rattling ensues from the locker, seems that Velonia had woken up. "Anyone out there?!" she calls out, but for the moment no one that hears seems inclined to come; the only one present at the moment is the one who locked her in after all. The tiny wolf was lying in front of the girls bathroom door, just why is like before unknown at the moment. But then someone else does come along, seems a bit crowded after so long without people here. The one that comes might not fit the classic image of a knight in shining armour, or any such image for that matter. Walking along, or shambling as some might call it, came one known as Kembaru* who quickly brings the thoughts to Voodoo. One reason for this is that he's a practicing witchdoctor and the other is that he's a zombie. But at the moment he's carrying a crowbar and a big sack which is slowly getting filled out as he moves along the lockers using his crowbar to enter and then steals whatever might be valuable. Quite the dastardly thief is he? Again, some would say that.
(*How his name is known? He's got a name label sewn into the rim of his sack.)

As he came to the locker holding the damsel in distress (can that term be used here?) the zombie didn't bother answering the pleas for issuing from inside but instead simply broke this one open like he's done with the rest. His jaw dropped, not to the floor since he's pretty well preserved though, at the sight before him. "What the hell..." For inside there lay a number of dead moths, killed by indigestion, and Vel standing clad in a pink leather bunny suit*. Why something like that would even be present certainly isn't known, probably for the best.
(*If you're disappointed because she ain't naked suggest you refrain from stating that fact.)

"Uh... hi..." Seems to be all that the now very pinkly, a few might even say kinkily, dressed Velonia could say at the moment. The zombie thief seemed to think it best not to inquire, most understandably. "I'm not even going to ask..." Is instead all he says as he moves on to the next locker, but not before snagging a few of the moths, most likely for an experimental curse*. As this very short and actually rather empty conversation took place something odd happens to the busted lock; it seems to regenerate. And when Vel once more closes she unfortunately, for her at least, fails to notice this until it clicks into place once more. Sometimes luck is simply rotten isn't it?
(*Most likely one involving having your clothes fall apart at an awkward moment in case you're asking.)

Then someone can be heard inside the girls bathroom, strange since no one has been seen entering it. Someone's humming, the tone can't be made out unfortunately, and the sound of running water could also be heard. Must be washing her hands then, it should be her shouldn't it? It's the ladies' room after all. Then the door opened, inwards and thus it doesn't actually disturb the little canine lying there. A multi-coloured bunny-girl tip-toed out and a green t-shirt with some kind of print on it can be made out before she also suffers a spat of bad luck; she trips on Lone and falls through the floor. As in straight through, not breaking anything on the way down but simply going down like there wasn't any floor at all.

"Oh, sorry Az, I meant well." The little canine royalty exclaimed as the bunny-girl, whose name or nickname seems to be Az, trips on him and does her rather peculiar fall through the floor. He's a bit ashamed it seems, ears lying flat and an actual blush could be seen on his face beneath the fur. And by this point something weird is definitely taking place, the two headed catgirl* that just walked in is definitely a sign of it. One of the head has long brown hair while the other has short and a very light tone of blond. The one of them wasn't very dressed though; fur tends to grate against clothing, and sports a two piece assembly with what basically amounts to a kilt on the lower half of their body.
(*Okay a pantherine if you want to be picky about particulars.)

"I love the sign on the door saying anything goes!" Said the longhaired brunette with quite apparent glee; whether that's good or bad is a matter of debate. And the sign does said "Anything Goes", it also said "Co-ed, Co-species" just above; again, a matter of debate as too whether that's good or bad. Apparently the blond one didn't think it's a good thing, can't really blame her.
"What? You sound as bad as Red." She replied dubiously, and she should be the best authority on the brunette shouldn't she?
"Not quite. Watch." They walked over to the pipes, quite solid looking pipes at that, and shut off the warm water. Then the brunette's arm punches the pipe with such strength that the now distorted pipe can hardly manage even a trickle of water through it, and it looked so solid before. At least it's not broken, and judging by the grin on her face she's pretty pleased with the results of her punch.
"Oh Jen, that's mean!" the as yet unnamed blond said with a giggle.

As it where the only water now available was cold and even that pipe was included in the buckling. Not that anyone was using the shower, or... the next arrival does seem to disprove that. It's becoming apparent that someone or something is messing quite seriously with the average state of reality around here now as a snow-white pantherine walks out of the showers drying herself with a towel and wearing an unusual helmet with what looks like a tainted glass visor. And the showers couldn't even be heard running before, strange.
"It's a good thing, I'm done in the shower." She says as she walks up to the two-headed one who spins around to look at the new arrival.
"Who are you?" they both ask in unison, producing an unusual stereo effect. And just as they do so a third, or is it fourth, brown furred pantherine walks in. This one is, like the others female, although none of the others present wears a cutlass and a flintlock pistol in their belts, or even wear belts for that matter.
"Hmmmm... The last time I was in a locker-room I was a man and fresh out of a basketball game. How strange." And with that sentence it's quite clear that something most weird is going on.

[Tapewolf]

Not bad, although it gets progressively more confusing.  I feel you may have overused the 'why is not known' / 'will be explained later' motif, though.

[Aldoun]

I can understand what you mean, it's not finished yet and quite frankly can't avoid being confusing right now. Well, if you're familiar with the reference material you might avoid it; this is actually based on a thread on the Drowtales Forum which I'm currently in the progress turning into something that might be coherent. As for the parts unknown; I've had to check up with the others on the forum for a bit more info there and I haven't yet gotten 'round to editing it in.