The Kingdom of the Emerald Hills

Ghosttiger Mavor'shir is the 4th son of House Mavor'shir the 5th house of Endithall.

House Mavor'shir has been on the ruling council of Endithall for most of matron Rayness' 562 years. Rayness was a malicious matron, but one who was very productive in having children, between having 7 daughters and 4 sons.

Since graduating the academy, Ghosttiger had been involved in the destruction of 2 houses, helping to propel their house up to 5th. Being a low ranking noble male his oldest brother, the house wizard, and 2nd boy being house weapon master, Ghosttiger's role during house assaults was to lead the house slaves(a.k.a. Cannon fodder) into the courtyard of the other houses, to set off wards and fight the first wave of defenders. Through forethought and planning his usually thankless job became one of praise, as he used sleep poison on many of the other houses' bigger monstrous slaves. Capturing 2 minotaurs, and 6 ogres, as well as 1 illithid. Now under the control of his house.

While the house sat quietly watching two other houses wage war one night, Ghosttiger slipped off to pay a visit to see Arethan the third Daughter of house Nomvert, the second house in the city. She had called upon him several times since their graduation ceremony's from their respected academies. On this night however, while he was lying with Arethan in her chambers, House Sataki the first house of the city secretly used the cover of the house war to ambush house Mavor'shir. Once the attack had started on his house the Matron Mother of house Nomvert entered the room and started chanting. Instantly Ghosttiger moved for his long swords, hurling one at the matron mother while burying the other in the chest of his former lover. The Matron managed to dodge the thrown sword but it was enough to interrupt her spell. She recovered in a moment, but it was a moment to late. As Ghosttiger retrieved his thrown long sword he reached down and grabbed the matrons house insignia and activated the Invisibility spell on his own insignia, so as to move unseen through the house and into the streets. It was then that Ghosttiger remembered that he left his dagger protruding from the matron's throat.

As he ran unseen through the streets of Endithall he could see the explosions of fireballs and lightning bolts in the area of his home. As he neared it he could see creatures of another plane raining down destruction upon his home. Before he could even get within a hundred yards of the courtyard the pillar that was his home was shattered. He stood stunned in the streets staring at the rubble that once served as his home. He watched in stunned disbelief as the city's Arch wizard, a member of house Sataki floated back to their house. He stayed in the streets as the demons destroyed all traces of the invading armies dead and turned away only when his mother's corpse was ripped apart. Having no proof of who attacked his house, only that house Sataki was involved somehow.

Ghosttiger fled knowing that there was no solace in the underdark, he made his way to the surface and the blinding rays of that great orb in the sky. By the time he reached the surface he was weak and weary from lack of rest and food. Having almost nothing in the way of equipment he took stock of what he had. As far as weapons went only his two long swords, his armor was somewhere beneath the rubble that was his home. The only thing he had that wasn't a necessity was the matrons house insignia, which he knew by now they were tracking him through magic with. “Let them come.” he said. “Let them finish the job.” He knew if they found him like this he would be too weak to fight them.

As the sun set that evening he heard the sound of someone approaching, but not from the caves. Stepping out of the shadows, he noticed an odd man talking to himself. Ghosttiger watched as the man set snares and then went to the creek to bathe. Ghosttiger crept closer to the odd man, heading straight to the water skin he had left hanging on a low tree branch. After stealing the skin and taking a few drinks he was about to leave with his prize, when he noticed two men, one armed with a short sword and the other with a crossbow sneaking on the unsuspecting bather. The swordsman crawled forward while the crossbowman loaded his weapon. Having just been helpless to aid his own family he knew he could get some frustration out on these two fools.

Ghosttiger sprang into action running for the creek, once again launching one sword at the crossbowman. This time however his aim was true. Leaping into the air only to spring off of the back of the bathing man to finish the distance to the other side of the creek. He went straight at the other assailant. The small portly man with the short sword rose up in time to block the first swing. Either this man was good with his sword or the condition of Ghosttiger was worse than he thought, but several shots into the fight and not one had landed. The portly man,starting to feel confident, pressed his advantage and to his delight the dark one slipped on a walnut that had fallen from the tree. Ghosttiger used the mans confidence against him and kicked out from his prone position and hit the man in the kneecap. As the portly man dropped to his knees he felt a sharp pain in his chest, he looked down to see the tip of the longsword going into his chest. As he looked back up the last thing he saw in this world was the white hair and black face of a dark elf.

Ghosttiger gathered up his sword, looked at the broken crossbow, and went to loot the portly corpse. He found himself looking at the man from the creek who was staring at the dead body. The odd man started to speak, but the language was unfamiliar to Ghosttiger. The odd man followed Ghosttiger back across the creek still trying to communicate, Ghosttiger just ignored him. Eventually the man just grabbed him and spun him around, when that happened his cowl slipped off of his head and the odd mans eyes went wide in fright.

Knowing that this dark elf had probably just saved his life he continually tried different dialects trying to thank his savior. All seemed hopeless until he watched this dark elf take another drink from his water skin. The man looked over and noticed that he had captured a rabbit and 2 squirrels in his snares, he offered the rabbit to the dark elf.

Ghosttiger accepted the animal and broke its neck. He looked up to see the man waving him to follow. Not sensing any threat he did. Along the way Ghosttiger gathered up sticks to start a fire once he got to their destination. The odd man soon led him to an encampment. Seeing many people in the encampment ,Ghosttiger refused to go in. Instead he backed up and tried to find a place to light his fire, and prayed to the spider queen that this thing would not kill him as he ate it. The odd man returned later and tried to speak again, getting frustrated at the attempts Ghosttiger tried something, he knew a bit of surface elvish so when he said “What?” in surface elf. The man was momentarily stunned. Communication was hard at first because Ghosttiger only spoke enough surface elven to hurl curses, and ask for priestesses. Eventually Ghosttiger understood the man was offering to feed him and pay him in exchange for protecting the cargo of the caravan. “So he is a trader.” Ghosttiger thought to himself. This may be the thing I need to outfit myself for my return trip and my revenge.

So for eight months Ghosttiger traveled with the caravan, never truly with but alongside. Never staying in it at night, but again alongside. He had purchased two short swords, a bow, a dozen arrows and a chockram from Patrick the Trader and his employer, from the money he was paid.

Now that winter was fast approaching, Patrick headed the caravan to Tall Oaks. Tall Oaks was not even the size of a hamlet most of the year, but a few traveling merchants used it as a place to spend the winter, trade amongst themselves, and tell tales of what they had seen and who was in need of what. Ghosttiger never actually entered Tall Oaks, like always he stayed outside the gatherings.
This winter a group of soldiers were also in Tall Oaks, gathering supplies on their way to wherever they were headed. With soldiers in the area Ghosttiger kept a closer eye on the happenings than he had planned.

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Would somebody kill that Fuc#ing Archer--Sir Gavvin

Shattered Dreams


A warmer than usual day in late Autumn was enough for the winter residents of Tall Oaks to celebrate, especially since so many other travelers had chosen to stop and rest on their way to other destinations before the snows came.
TigerHawke, daughter of Patrick (Paddy) Hawken, Bard and renowned trader; set aside the inventory list and sighed. She'd wanted a part of the day to herself, but now her duties would be increased tenfold for Da surely meant to do a brisk business. That meant she'd have to be near at hand all the night, unrolling fabrics, wearing jewels, running to the mead barrel and Indigo's cook fire to bring him his barely tasted meals. Nothing but the late night sing would pry him from his trading tent. When that happened she'd be packing up the wares, trinkets, bartered food stuff, penning up traded animals and wistfully dreaming of sleep. Being Patrick Hawken's daughter meant being over shadowed, over protected and best of all, loved. Growing up on the trader's routes was all she knew, and being Paddy's daughter meant she knew it well. No place for a spoiled brat or the lazy either. Those that Da hired or let join his caravan worked for the good of all.

The afternoon waned to the dusky glow of sunset. The sounds of laughter, children's high pitched squeals as they ran about playing some made up game, the barking of dogs as they either tagged after the children or protected their masters goods. Da and other traders loudly crying the virtues of their wares, women filling up the long plank tables with food and joking amongst themselves, the sounds of the horses' hooves shifting at the picket lines. Music... penny whistles, flutes, a lap harp being tuned, someone strumming a lute and the throbbing of drums accompanied by the singing, voices true of pitch and those sourly off key. Walter the Red's hammer in the Smithy ringing out as he worked.
The smell of smoke from the fires, cooking meats enough to make one's mouth water, fresh bread out of the stone ovens, ripe fruits, the distinct odor of Galeron's brewmaster stall co-mingled with the press of the washed and unwashed and overlaid with those of farm animals.
Swirls of color as the dancers performed, the flash of metals on harness, armor, jewelry or of blade unsheathed for a potential customer. Cloth by the measure or worn ...sumptuous or so patched as to defy what color it originally was. Furs and hides that the littlest girls couldn't resist giving a quick pat to even at the risk of being scolded. A bandage and a kiss for a scraped knee or a smack of a ladle for fingers that couldn't wait till feast time. All peace and happiness.
Peace that rippled when the boys cried out that a mounted troupe of Roman soldiers was approaching.
The almost silence that followed when they rode by in crisp formation to the far edge of town and halted. The buzzing conversation as the men folk briefly met and headed to meet the soldiers. The almost audible relief as they were made welcome and the brief void of sound swelled to full once more.

Her sleep was shattered by screams, the ring of steel on steel, the roar of fire and the cries of the frightened. The flap of the yurt was pulled open and her Da was there yanking her up and telling her to make haste to get to the wagons. “No time for saving anything but your skin lass! Run and don't look back!”, he cried as he shoved her outside. Sure he followed her, she sped off.
Flames engulfed the Smithy where Walter lived, stalls were smashed or burning and everywhere people were fleeing, fighting or lying very still. Horses milled about free or strained at the picket lines to escape. Figures flashed and faded in the haze of smoke and the rage of the fires. Some of Galeron's whiskey barrels exploded as TigerHawke rushed towards the outer edge of the buildings and was hurled flat by the concussion. Scrambling up she fell to her hands and knees, over the body of a dead woman holding her equally dead child, blood pooling around them both. Deep inside the scream started to build as she recognized the laughing babe she fed sweets to at feast while the child's mother did a turn in the dance square. Her stomache heaved it's contents as their blood covered her hands and soaked into the knees of her pants. Fear thrummed along her every nerve as she staggered to her feet and ran once more sobbing. The wagons couldn't be much farther away.
The blow caught her unawares and sent her sprawling face down to lie gasping for air. Something drove hard into the earth by her head before rough hands turned her over and tore her tunic down the front. His breath reeked of too much drink and his voice when he spoke was gruff with it.
“Yer the daughter of that Bard, that damned Bard the Commander killed. Now your mine to do with as I please for as long as I please.”
TigerHawke lashed out with her foot but missed and he rewarded her with a merciless kick that left her groaning. “Make it harder on yourself you red haired vixen, your being senseless ain't gonna stop me using you.”
It was a short sword by her head but as she grabbed for it, he once again kicked her, before dropping over her to pry her legs apart. Wild fury rose within her and she lashed out with teeth barred and claws ripping as she twisted her body to resist his assault. She sunk her teeth into his shoulder.
Jolted back by the pain of it, he rose to his knees, his fist clenched to strike her.
And then he had no head ….blood spraying as the body slowly toppled forward. She made choking whimpering sounds as she writhed not to have him fall on her, felt the warm blood hit her skin, and the scream that she had felt building burst forth tearing her throat raw. Still her mind urged her to get up and run. Trembling almost uncontrollably, she got to her feet, tears almost blinding her.
A cloaked figure stepped into her blurred line of vision and pointed with a bloody long sword “Run, that way.”, he softly urged before turning back to the battle.
Run she did.
Galeron forcing her into his warm coat and slinging her into the wagon seat. Reins shoved into her hands as Galeron slapped the near cart horse on the rump with a “Git UP!!”
Why was Galeron riding away and not driving a wagon? Where was Walter, Bronic, Drigitha, Indigo Blu and ...Da ….no he's not dead, he can't be. Why was the image of a dark face, long white hair and a cloak wrapped figure so clear in her mind?

As the shouting began in Tall Oaks, it didn't take long until blades were drawn. Ghosttiger rushed from the shadows on the edge of the grounds and onto the weapons wagon that was a part of Patrick's caravan. From his vantage point he could see the soldiers working their way through the crowd of people. It wasn't until the after the fire started and the whiskey barrels exploded, that Ghosttiger reacted. No longer did he see the trading village, in his minds eye all he could see was his own house being destroyed.
Now the enemy was clear, all of the soldiers were as dark elves to him. They were the invaders, they were the ones causing the destruction. Unlike before this time he was armed, this time he was close enough to do something.
He watched as Patrick stumbled out of a tent, moving in a hurried fashion. Soldiers filed out after him. Ghosttiger drew his bow, firing as fast as his surface cousins, with similar accuracy. The first seven soldiers to leave the tent didn't make it a half a dozen steps before they fell dead. The next soldier to leave was dressed better than the others caught an arrow in the lower abdomen. Now they streamed out of the tent from all sides as they cut their way through.
Having missed the last two targets he aimed at, Ghosttiger dropped the bow and took up his swords, leaping from the wagon and into the fray. He killed two traders who attacked him out of fear before coming to his first soldier. The soldier was starting to light another building on fire. Ghosttiger severed his arm, but was too late as the dry thatch on the roof was already lit. Moving through crowd he witnessed a soldier knock Patrick's daughter to the ground and then kick her. The man was so distracted that the kill came easy. Telling her to run, he continued to wade through not sure of his next move only looking for the next victim.
As more and more people fled it soon became obvious that the numbers were against Ghosttiger. Now he was going to track down his employer. Having remembered seeing him head north, Ghosttiger ran to the north and began tracking the horse.
An hour to the north he found Patrick lying against a tree. There was a bloody rag wrapped around his leg barely above the knee, and Patrick was pressing another rag against his left side. Patrick started to get up then realized who had found him. He called for Ghosttiger to approach. The odd man told Ghosttiger while gasping for breath against the pain “Find my daughter....take her...keep her safe. I'll be fine.”
Ghosttiger, not knowing if the man would live but also not knowing if he had the skills to heal himself, did as ordered.
Running back toward Tall Oaks he couldn't help but wonder why the man had asked him to take his daughter. Wondering if she had ever been with a man before. Was her father trying to make sure there would be an heir? A child especially one of mixed blood was not anything Ghosttiger desired...IF that were to occur it would have to die. Still it had been a while since the last day of his house.
It took two days to find what was left of the caravan. This time there would be no more hiding. He walked straight into the camp.

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Would somebody kill that Fuc#ing Archer--Sir Gavvin

Shattered Dreams Con't

They had only stopped for brief rests, to treat their wounds and grab a cold bite to eat. The eight cart horses and the two oxen they had managed to save where too precious to run into the ground. All through the night they had pushed east in the hopes of avoiding any pursuit. So far so good.
TigerHawke shivered with more than the chill of Autumn. Her whole soul cried out for her father and the people of the village that she would never see again. Walter was in terrible shape, his lungs badly burned when trying to escape the burning smithy where he had spent every winter in his growing old age. The young healer, Jrake, was doing his best to assist, as was Walter's niece, Indigo. Bronic and Drigitha, had been covering their flight or scouting ahead to find the barely visible trail that Galeron thought he remembered from so long ago. Everyone was exhausted and still trying to come to grips with what had happened. There had been no time for small talk, no time to assess the total losses, nor would there be till they found a safer place to stop and that would not be until later in the day.

In the early dusk of evening, they had found a small opening in a grove with a spring to make their camp. A fire and a hot meal seemed almost miraculous. The horses, released from their harness grazed along side the two oxen. There was no way to ask more of them tonight. TigerHawke sat inside the wagon that she and Da had called 'home' for most of her life. She was trying to take inventory of what they still had, but in reality she was stalling. She tried to pull herself together, to push her pain and the horror of the shattered celebration away. Da would want it, demand that the needs of the caravan be over anything else. “You are his daughter, “ she whispered to herself, “He has taught you all he knows. Shown you places and cultures that most do not believe in. You have to make him proud … and if ….if he does not show back up …..” Tears threatened again, but she fought them away. “If he does not show up, you will carry on.” TigerHawke raised her chin, a gesture that her Da had called 'her defiance posture' and exited the wagon. She had to know the entire tale and that meant talking to the others no matter how hard it was going to be.

Indigo handed her a bowl of mutton stew with barely a word said. TigerHawke knew from long association that Indigo was more than worried and all angry. She nodded her thanks and wisely went to sit by the fire with the others, for if Indigo let loose her tongue, they'd wish they'd been slain with the others.
“Got yer head on straight now lass?” greeted Galeron, always one to be blunt. “Sit yer weary bruised bones here,” he patted a place on a downed log,” and let's sort this mucky mess to rights. First off, we've four of five wagons left. Smart of Paddy to have me load them up as the goods piled high, and more so when them vermin came ridin in. Lost half of the food stuff, a few horses and Walter's tools and supplies.” At the naming of Walter, Indigo banged her ladle hard on the stew pot and glared. Galeron cringed as if from an actual blow.
“Best get that part out en over with, afore I find meself sleeping out in the cold fer a season. Walter is done fer the blacksmithin. We's that worried over him what with his bellows not workin right an his head cracked. Healer lad there, he's done what he can … but his main work was with the animal tendin. Walter mighten of worked like a horse, but it tisn't the same. Boy is a bit muddled still over lossin his Master, bein a mite young to have seen what he did. Given a bit o time, and with Indigo's watchful eye on im, Jrake could turn into a fine healer o folks. Ye'd best watch im with the food, boy's got an awful hunger, “ he added with a twinkle in his eyes.
“Now listen close, lass, whilst I tell ye o your father and a bit o what ended us up back on the road.
Damned horse's arse Romans”, Galeron growled,” they ate too much, drank like stinkin fish all the while lordin it over the rest of us. Started tryin to help themselves to the goods with out paying good coin and not just with the likes of us, but with the whole village. You know yer father, TigerHawke, he tisn't one fer that. He set up a gorgeous row ….an him bein so crafty with the words, bard that he be.
The drink muddled, pea brained Roman high and mighty Captain, well he took offense at bein told to pay. Ordered his men to teach yer father a lesson by confiscatin his goods to pay for the insult, with you tossed in for good measure too! So yer father, being man of uncommon pride,and I will add, over protective of you, CHARMED the bloody bugger of a Captain! Made im bray like the jack arse yer father took him fer.” Galeron began laughing at the thought joined by Bronic, their scout and a grinning Drigitha. Jrake sat listening in glum silence until Walter began to cough within one of the wagons. Hastily he rose and left to trail Indigo to the injured man. TigerHawke just shook her head at what she had been told so far. Galeron wiped a bandaged hand across his eyes to wipe away the tears of laughter before glancing over to see that Indigo was no where near and picked up the thread of the story.
“ Won't due to get the missus any angrier than she already is like I said. Harm's befallen her kin and that is a huge insult to a gypsy. She'll be plottin revenge. Some fool set fire to Walter's smithy, with him still inside. Gonna be hard to keep him going …. sorry, I'm wanderin in me thoughts, tellin it and jumpin ahead.

“So here's yer father, sittin like a cat in the cream, the Roman braying and his men all startin to pull blades or tryin to lay their hands on Paddy. Course that brung everyone else over for a look see.
Smart ones scurried away ...most figured on airin their own grievances up close and personal. Don't know who spilled first blood, alls I know is some tom fool set yer father's wagon on fire, an the idiot is tryin to save the goods! I got to im and was pullin him away ...well here's the bad bit ...some soldier stabbed him good. Now hold up, lass,” he said as he raised his hand to cut off her cry,” he weren't dead, but not goin to be dancin anytime soon. Leg wound, girl is all he took. How'd yer think he got to you to get you out? He was breathin still and madder than bees stirred with a stick. “Get me to my daughter he yells in me face, then you go get the wagons ready to roll. He'd find the rest when he had you moving. I tried to argue with im, but I never could out talk that man come to think o it. Too used to doin his biddin.”

Bronic spoke up,” I took the soldier that stabbed Patrick in the throat with an arrow. Galeron had him well in hand and I was of better use up on the hill. I was looking for our other shadow but did not find a sign anywhere. I fear we have lost our night protection back in the village. The best I could do was create more chaos to save as many lives of our friends as I could, before I felt able to help us leave.”
“I let as many of the gathered horses along the picket lines go as I could, “ added Drigitha in her soft voice. “ After taking two of the finest ones there and starting to lead them off, up staggers my employer, and with a nod, he pulls himself up onto the black and rides off after ordering me to get to the wagons and be gone. That horse was the one I wanted.”
“ The direction he headed in?” TigerHawke could barely get the words out while fighting to ignore the assassin's value of a horse over her Da.
“North,” came the single worded reply.

TigerHawke could do no more than to cling to hope that Da would return. The important task was to keep moving towards a valley that Galeron said was to the east, but couldn't quite remember exactly where. A place that she had never been to or even heard her Da describe and with winter fast approaching, this was no time to be wandering in the wilds. Deep in her heart she felt her child-self cry out for her father ….but there was no reply.

Walking into the camp deftly dodging the assassin's traps Ghosttiger approached Tigerhawke. Ignoring the cries and call to arms from her companions he continued. Finding her sobbing he told her "Your father lives but we may not if we stay here." Pulling her to her feet he looks at the others. "Get your shit and get ready to leave we will use the cover of the fresh snowfall to move to a nearby location that Pat and I know."

Doubting that Pat would recover but still wanting to find information about his houses destruction he lead the caravan back to where he had emerged and where he first met Patrick. He knew that he had to get this ragtag band up to par for when his people finally traced that amulet. Training them through the winter was a MUST.

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Would somebody kill that Fuc#ing Archer--Sir Gavvin