For a breakdown of what's transpired, check out the Ballad of the Pigeon God Page. The "Apocalypse" starts with Episode #64.
Dusk on the 2nd of DecDec 1072
The Ruins of Chateau d'Echleon, Outside the Village of Eding
The Gods, both good and evil, were destroyed, the evil king was vanquished, the armies of evil and darkness that were overwhelming this small, rural corner of the kingdom appeared to have scattered to the four winds in disarray, probably to the foul holes from whence they came.
And as our heroes were licking their wounds, gasping for air, a new threat had appeared atop a nearby hill. At least fifty heavy cavalry, or worse yet, knights, stared down the ruins of the chateau with their full array of lances, flags, and pennants blowing in the wind.
Our heroes, Rolf, Echelon, Ashe, Kane, and even a badly wounded Norm stood together to stare them down. Their allies like Brutus, Ariel, and "Baron" Felix, and Mayor Corkbarrel stood behind and beside them.
The cavalry began a slow trot down the hill. As the heraldry on the shields began to be visible, Felix spoke up.
"These are the Knights of Feraso, the largest knightly order in Ras-Prythax. We're either saved after the fact, or completely screwed."
Mere feet from the heroes, the trot of the horse was brought to a walk and the knights parted their line around them, barely acknowledging them. Twenty feet, the line was made whole and stopped, save their leader.
And despite many questions left unanswered, like who was behind this apocalyptic charade, who would become the King of Crosedes, subservient to the new Emperor, and why the hordes of monsters finally stopped, Rurik IV began his rule, and the Kingdom of Crosedes had new legends for bards to write legends of....
Dusk on the 2nd of DecDec 1072
The Ruins of Chateau d'Echleon, Outside the Village of Eding
The Gods, both good and evil, were destroyed, the evil king was vanquished, the armies of evil and darkness that were overwhelming this small, rural corner of the kingdom appeared to have scattered to the four winds in disarray, probably to the foul holes from whence they came.
And as our heroes were licking their wounds, gasping for air, a new threat had appeared atop a nearby hill. At least fifty heavy cavalry, or worse yet, knights, stared down the ruins of the chateau with their full array of lances, flags, and pennants blowing in the wind.
Our heroes, Rolf, Echelon, Ashe, Kane, and even a badly wounded Norm stood together to stare them down. Their allies like Brutus, Ariel, and "Baron" Felix, and Mayor Corkbarrel stood behind and beside them.
The cavalry began a slow trot down the hill. As the heraldry on the shields began to be visible, Felix spoke up.
"These are the Knights of Feraso, the largest knightly order in Ras-Prythax. We're either saved after the fact, or completely screwed."
Mere feet from the heroes, the trot of the horse was brought to a walk and the knights parted their line around them, barely acknowledging them. Twenty feet, the line was made whole and stopped, save their leader.
The lead knight of this troupe rode up directly to Rurik, still wielding the blue-glowing Blood-Brand
"Boy, I am Sir Gunter Riekhoff, Duke of Ostverk, and High Commander of the Knights of Feraso. How is it that you claim the ancestral sword of the Bloodblades?"
"Boy, I am Sir Gunter Riekhoff, Duke of Ostverk, and High Commander of the Knights of Feraso. How is it that you claim the ancestral sword of the Bloodblades?"
"Umm.... my name is Rurik Bloodblade?"
And with that, Sir Gunter dismounted from his steed, stared Rurik up and down, until finally taking a knee in front of him. His fellow knights followed suit.
Rurik stumbled a bit back from the knights, until feeling the hand of Fiame in the small of his back.
"Fiame, I-I-I-I-I can't be Emperor.... I-I don't want to be Emperor."
"Rurik," the petite cleric whispered into his ear, "The sword chose you. My suggestion is start to acting like one..."
Rurik stepped forward, his hand pointing The Blood-Brand to the ground.
"Echelon, Norm, you are your friends..." he continued, moving his hand back to point out the others, "have sacrificed greatly to keep evil at bay. I could imagine some peasant many leagues away would willingly knell upon knowledge of my title, but I can not make any of you knell before me."
Echelon chuckled to himself, "Rurik, your emmenence, your highness, o' wielder of that magic sword...
He began to kneel.
"I kneel first because, like you, we are all exhausted, and second, I wish these Knights off this property, so we can visit Eding and survey the damage there. Keep your humility like you are trying today, and someday, I will be happy to kneel as a courtesy of the office."
Echelon gave a look to his compatriots, and everyone, even the Galmar Barbarians under Rolf Wolfsblood rose from their bedrolls to grant Rurik the new found respect he was supposedly deserving.
Fiame took a knee beside him, and while everyone's heads were down, grabbed his left hand.
With that, everyone rejoiced over their survival, and Rurik's prophetic luck, and all the survivors journeyed to Eding.
The village stunk of death ten times as bad as the Chateau did, with bodies of dead orcs, goblins, and other creatures getting stacked like cordwood to be put to the torch later. In the twilight hour of the second of Decdec, the party saw terrible carnage, but a resolute group of survivors who overcame a tremendous odds, just trying to get by.
They met with Lady Iris, Torm Touchberry, and Jenny d'Echelon near the baronial manor. Despite all the damage, Torm assured everyone, "It was far worse during the Goblin Invasion of 1062. They were caught unawares and it took the last ten years to rebuild. This time we were prepared to fight, and it will be a much quicker affair to recover, plus I won't get three dozen lashings." The elf laughed, but no one else took solace in his own dark self-deprecating humor.
"Mother!" A voice shouted before the light of the fire. "Who are you talking to and why aren't they helping? They seem able-bodi..... Echelon! Norm! You're alive."
A young boy came running into the light. He has heavily bandaged from numerous wounds, and wore a small suit of chain mail soaked with someone else's blood. It was Baron Timmy, or just Timmy to his friends, the now ten-year old former orphan and urchin, who ascended to become baron .
The boy finished hugging his friends, and looked over at Rurik and Fiame.
"Rurik? Fiame? What do I earn the pleasure of your company.... you look famished, perhaps we should find some rations in the manor hou..."
"Baron Timoth, your brave grace, we arrived with William and everyone else to see the reveal of Apotheosis, only to be swallowed up in the betrayal of evil. We have fought alongside your friends at the Chateau. William and the others were all killed, unfortunately, but these men to my right are the so-called Knight of Feraso. "
He pulled out the Blood-Brand. "They claim that by wielding this sword, I am to be granted the title of Emperor of Feraso. I guess we just wanted to let you know," he finished, still a little unsure of the situation.
"Well congratulations Rurik, but I've been forced to study all the pomp and procedure of nobility, and you can not be Emperor until a proper coronation can be granted." The young baron paused, as if waiting for a response.
It took a few moments for the viking to compose his thoughts, "That is all right and good, you grace. While we assemble that coronation post-haste, what can you use these big, burly knights for?"
And with that, Sir Gunter dismounted from his steed, stared Rurik up and down, until finally taking a knee in front of him. His fellow knights followed suit.
Rurik stumbled a bit back from the knights, until feeling the hand of Fiame in the small of his back.
"Fiame, I-I-I-I-I can't be Emperor.... I-I don't want to be Emperor."
"Rurik," the petite cleric whispered into his ear, "The sword chose you. My suggestion is start to acting like one..."
Rurik stepped forward, his hand pointing The Blood-Brand to the ground.
"Echelon, Norm, you are your friends..." he continued, moving his hand back to point out the others, "have sacrificed greatly to keep evil at bay. I could imagine some peasant many leagues away would willingly knell upon knowledge of my title, but I can not make any of you knell before me."
Echelon chuckled to himself, "Rurik, your emmenence, your highness, o' wielder of that magic sword...
He began to kneel.
"I kneel first because, like you, we are all exhausted, and second, I wish these Knights off this property, so we can visit Eding and survey the damage there. Keep your humility like you are trying today, and someday, I will be happy to kneel as a courtesy of the office."
Echelon gave a look to his compatriots, and everyone, even the Galmar Barbarians under Rolf Wolfsblood rose from their bedrolls to grant Rurik the new found respect he was supposedly deserving.
Fiame took a knee beside him, and while everyone's heads were down, grabbed his left hand.
With that, everyone rejoiced over their survival, and Rurik's prophetic luck, and all the survivors journeyed to Eding.
The village stunk of death ten times as bad as the Chateau did, with bodies of dead orcs, goblins, and other creatures getting stacked like cordwood to be put to the torch later. In the twilight hour of the second of Decdec, the party saw terrible carnage, but a resolute group of survivors who overcame a tremendous odds, just trying to get by.
They met with Lady Iris, Torm Touchberry, and Jenny d'Echelon near the baronial manor. Despite all the damage, Torm assured everyone, "It was far worse during the Goblin Invasion of 1062. They were caught unawares and it took the last ten years to rebuild. This time we were prepared to fight, and it will be a much quicker affair to recover, plus I won't get three dozen lashings." The elf laughed, but no one else took solace in his own dark self-deprecating humor.
"Mother!" A voice shouted before the light of the fire. "Who are you talking to and why aren't they helping? They seem able-bodi..... Echelon! Norm! You're alive."
A young boy came running into the light. He has heavily bandaged from numerous wounds, and wore a small suit of chain mail soaked with someone else's blood. It was Baron Timmy, or just Timmy to his friends, the now ten-year old former orphan and urchin, who ascended to become baron .
The boy finished hugging his friends, and looked over at Rurik and Fiame.
"Rurik? Fiame? What do I earn the pleasure of your company.... you look famished, perhaps we should find some rations in the manor hou..."
"Baron Timoth, your brave grace, we arrived with William and everyone else to see the reveal of Apotheosis, only to be swallowed up in the betrayal of evil. We have fought alongside your friends at the Chateau. William and the others were all killed, unfortunately, but these men to my right are the so-called Knight of Feraso. "
He pulled out the Blood-Brand. "They claim that by wielding this sword, I am to be granted the title of Emperor of Feraso. I guess we just wanted to let you know," he finished, still a little unsure of the situation.
"Well congratulations Rurik, but I've been forced to study all the pomp and procedure of nobility, and you can not be Emperor until a proper coronation can be granted." The young baron paused, as if waiting for a response.
It took a few moments for the viking to compose his thoughts, "That is all right and good, you grace. While we assemble that coronation post-haste, what can you use these big, burly knights for?"
5 DecDec 1072 - The Public Common, Village of Eding
It was cold, with spitting snow on the public grounds. Over the previous two days, the village center had been cleaned, bodies burned or buried, and a few structures had begun repairs to beat the real oncoming winter. But now was the time for a celebration, Rurik's coronation as Emperor of Feraso, a nation that had not existed for the last 250 years. News of the discovery of The Blood-Brand and the new emperor was leaving with the Knights of Feraso in two groups, one to Feraso City, where the coronation would take place, and one to Hydincal, to also let the Archbishop know about the death of King Cervinal, in addition to his coronation duties.
But following Baron Timmy's forced studies of heraldry and courtly affairs, the only true requirements for a coronation, was a royal decree OR having a vassal loyal to the office in question conduct the ceremony.
So the "Emperor of the World" was to be given a his official role and duties in the Public Common in battle-torn Village of Eding, by ten-year old Baron Timoth "Timmy" d'Echelon.
Given their documented heroics the days before, the few Knights of Feraso staying for the ceremony were not going to question the low-theatrics on a baronial service.
But first, one other ceremony needed to be conducted. For you see, Timmy in his recollection of his studies relevant to the neophyte Rurik's peculiar situation, discovered numerous procedural issues, namely a bachelor Emperor would be forced to marry for political convenience to a short list of eligible maidens in a ceremony blessed by Akana.
So, twenty minutes before the coronation, the entire village of Eding, and all local guests of acclaim were invited to wedding of Fiame Runyon and Rurik Bloodblade, to avoid the whole courting process.
Conducting the ceremony was the closest thing to a Priest of Akana they could find that wasn't in the ceremony. Fiame was a cleric of Akana, scheduled to helm the new church being built in her stead, but the closest approved alternate was Sigard of Slate Gap, a still injured paladin from the battle. The young man was gravely wounded in the hobgoblin assault and crawled to the hidden safety of part of the collapsed Chateau and was found barely breathing just the day before. Luckily, healing magics restored him to be well enough to conduct both ceremonies with the use of a just a crutch.
Both ceremonies were short and bit more raucous than other previously recorded imperial coronations. But Emperor Rurik IV and his Empress, Fiame (the Second) began the day united in marriage, with a formidable task of uniting the countries together under the banner of Feraso.
The "official" ceremony to all the countries involved, with all the pomp and circumstance would take place in the Royal Palace in Feraso City, Ras-Prythax on the 1st of QuadDec 1073, but in all the official documentation. Rurik and Fiame were gifted their duties as Emperor and Empress by Baron Timoth d'Echelon of Eding, with Sigard Slategap officiating in stead of the Archbishop of Hydincall, Adolphus.
It was cold, with spitting snow on the public grounds. Over the previous two days, the village center had been cleaned, bodies burned or buried, and a few structures had begun repairs to beat the real oncoming winter. But now was the time for a celebration, Rurik's coronation as Emperor of Feraso, a nation that had not existed for the last 250 years. News of the discovery of The Blood-Brand and the new emperor was leaving with the Knights of Feraso in two groups, one to Feraso City, where the coronation would take place, and one to Hydincal, to also let the Archbishop know about the death of King Cervinal, in addition to his coronation duties.
But following Baron Timmy's forced studies of heraldry and courtly affairs, the only true requirements for a coronation, was a royal decree OR having a vassal loyal to the office in question conduct the ceremony.
So the "Emperor of the World" was to be given a his official role and duties in the Public Common in battle-torn Village of Eding, by ten-year old Baron Timoth "Timmy" d'Echelon.
Given their documented heroics the days before, the few Knights of Feraso staying for the ceremony were not going to question the low-theatrics on a baronial service.
But first, one other ceremony needed to be conducted. For you see, Timmy in his recollection of his studies relevant to the neophyte Rurik's peculiar situation, discovered numerous procedural issues, namely a bachelor Emperor would be forced to marry for political convenience to a short list of eligible maidens in a ceremony blessed by Akana.
So, twenty minutes before the coronation, the entire village of Eding, and all local guests of acclaim were invited to wedding of Fiame Runyon and Rurik Bloodblade, to avoid the whole courting process.
Conducting the ceremony was the closest thing to a Priest of Akana they could find that wasn't in the ceremony. Fiame was a cleric of Akana, scheduled to helm the new church being built in her stead, but the closest approved alternate was Sigard of Slate Gap, a still injured paladin from the battle. The young man was gravely wounded in the hobgoblin assault and crawled to the hidden safety of part of the collapsed Chateau and was found barely breathing just the day before. Luckily, healing magics restored him to be well enough to conduct both ceremonies with the use of a just a crutch.
Both ceremonies were short and bit more raucous than other previously recorded imperial coronations. But Emperor Rurik IV and his Empress, Fiame (the Second) began the day united in marriage, with a formidable task of uniting the countries together under the banner of Feraso.
The "official" ceremony to all the countries involved, with all the pomp and circumstance would take place in the Royal Palace in Feraso City, Ras-Prythax on the 1st of QuadDec 1073, but in all the official documentation. Rurik and Fiame were gifted their duties as Emperor and Empress by Baron Timoth d'Echelon of Eding, with Sigard Slategap officiating in stead of the Archbishop of Hydincall, Adolphus.
And despite many questions left unanswered, like who was behind this apocalyptic charade, who would become the King of Crosedes, subservient to the new Emperor, and why the hordes of monsters finally stopped, Rurik IV began his rule, and the Kingdom of Crosedes had new legends for bards to write legends of....
**FLASHBACK**
2 DecDec 1072 (Near Sunset) Crypts of the Kings, Lake Apotheosis, Kingdom of Crosedes
Thick acrid smoke and and the stench of sulfur began wafting into the crypts of the former emperors of Feraso. While no being of good nor ill inclination had tried to ferry themselves across the lake over to the cliff-face entrance, only one member of the Cult of Apotheosis stood guard of the dead and their treasures, Theodard 'The Historian.'
He had a direct view of the appearance of the God of Goodness and Light. He could make the wincing visage of the half-orc who backstabbed the god from the top of the cliff above. He regretted the vantage point as the pure sight of their god turned into the foul arachnid form of Baraxus the Destroyer.
For the entire battle, he acted as a lone sentry, loaded crossbow in one hand, and a heavy mace right beside him. Even the explosive battle between the mysterious mage and Baraxus netted no attention to the tombs, once the clouds of destruction abated. But it was later, with siege engines, and piles of burning flesh that forced the Historian to venture further into the crypts. Running low on good air, Theodard risked going down an unstable passage the emptied upriver a few hundred feet into the Nightwood Forest.
But as he made the turn towards the concealed passage that led to his safety, he worked his way past the sarcophagus of Leif VII. Sitting in an inlaid cut on the lid of the sarcophagus was a large dagger, the Dagger of Mymindosa. He had received it as a find from an elderly cleric up among the halfling villages, and despite a command to put it in storage, he felt it better suited in a slot specifically carved for it.
With the orange smoke overtaking what little good air was left in the tomb, Theodard regretted his historically sound decision of just a few months ago.
He grabbed the dagger from the slot, and with his breath held, staggered towards the storage area, where he found the protective box that had contained the dagger upon its delivery. Putting the dagger inside its box, he made one last look down the path that might offer him salvation, and turned further into the stone, box in hand, gasping for air.
He arrived at a long-untended part of the crypt. The bones of many a hero of the 1st Ferasean Empire lay inter-mixed among themselves. It had been picked clean of any sort of magic or treasure during the lean years of the Galmar Barbarian incursions, and had been left as a cursed dumping grounds, long forgotten.
Nearly succumbed to the poisonous gas, Theodard put the box behind his back and crawled under the ancient bones. With two or three layers of the former heroes of the land, Theodard the Historian took his last small breath, expiring into anonymity, while hiding the dangerous cursed weapon away from immediately prying hands.
No one knows of the sacrifice Theodard made that day. But those that survived should thank him everyday.
DM Notes: And there you have it, folks, the formal completion of what happened within the Ballad of the Pigeon God, at least everything that happened in my campaign that I centered at East Stroudsburg University from 1999-2000.
There are more episodes coming: at least one to cover the "Where are they know" of all the surviving PCs and NPCs, with a few connections to the Journey of Mutumbo, set sixty years later.
One note about managing all the PCs/NPCs, and special guest stars for the long finale. Sigard, a character whose real name and class was lost to history, was run by Albert, a teenage regular at the store I ran. There was little recollected from any of the other players, and I doubted he would remember anything from half his lifetime ago. But I did have one important note early on as I assembled the "apocalypse's" timeline.
His character lived.
Then I realized I completely omitted his death (or survival) in episode #71. It's much more logical and fitting to have him help with the coronation instead of Fiame or some unnamed cleric of Akana that lived to tell the tell.
He also fits an empty part of the backstory that I'll fill in more next week. Sigard will renounce with Paladin warrior ways, revert back to a simple priest and oversee the construction of the Church of Akana in Eding, completed in 1078.
Next: #73 An Epilogue of Sorts....
2 DecDec 1072 (Near Sunset) Crypts of the Kings, Lake Apotheosis, Kingdom of Crosedes
Thick acrid smoke and and the stench of sulfur began wafting into the crypts of the former emperors of Feraso. While no being of good nor ill inclination had tried to ferry themselves across the lake over to the cliff-face entrance, only one member of the Cult of Apotheosis stood guard of the dead and their treasures, Theodard 'The Historian.'
He had a direct view of the appearance of the God of Goodness and Light. He could make the wincing visage of the half-orc who backstabbed the god from the top of the cliff above. He regretted the vantage point as the pure sight of their god turned into the foul arachnid form of Baraxus the Destroyer.
For the entire battle, he acted as a lone sentry, loaded crossbow in one hand, and a heavy mace right beside him. Even the explosive battle between the mysterious mage and Baraxus netted no attention to the tombs, once the clouds of destruction abated. But it was later, with siege engines, and piles of burning flesh that forced the Historian to venture further into the crypts. Running low on good air, Theodard risked going down an unstable passage the emptied upriver a few hundred feet into the Nightwood Forest.
But as he made the turn towards the concealed passage that led to his safety, he worked his way past the sarcophagus of Leif VII. Sitting in an inlaid cut on the lid of the sarcophagus was a large dagger, the Dagger of Mymindosa. He had received it as a find from an elderly cleric up among the halfling villages, and despite a command to put it in storage, he felt it better suited in a slot specifically carved for it.
With the orange smoke overtaking what little good air was left in the tomb, Theodard regretted his historically sound decision of just a few months ago.
He grabbed the dagger from the slot, and with his breath held, staggered towards the storage area, where he found the protective box that had contained the dagger upon its delivery. Putting the dagger inside its box, he made one last look down the path that might offer him salvation, and turned further into the stone, box in hand, gasping for air.
He arrived at a long-untended part of the crypt. The bones of many a hero of the 1st Ferasean Empire lay inter-mixed among themselves. It had been picked clean of any sort of magic or treasure during the lean years of the Galmar Barbarian incursions, and had been left as a cursed dumping grounds, long forgotten.
Nearly succumbed to the poisonous gas, Theodard put the box behind his back and crawled under the ancient bones. With two or three layers of the former heroes of the land, Theodard the Historian took his last small breath, expiring into anonymity, while hiding the dangerous cursed weapon away from immediately prying hands.
No one knows of the sacrifice Theodard made that day. But those that survived should thank him everyday.
DM Notes: And there you have it, folks, the formal completion of what happened within the Ballad of the Pigeon God, at least everything that happened in my campaign that I centered at East Stroudsburg University from 1999-2000.
There are more episodes coming: at least one to cover the "Where are they know" of all the surviving PCs and NPCs, with a few connections to the Journey of Mutumbo, set sixty years later.
One note about managing all the PCs/NPCs, and special guest stars for the long finale. Sigard, a character whose real name and class was lost to history, was run by Albert, a teenage regular at the store I ran. There was little recollected from any of the other players, and I doubted he would remember anything from half his lifetime ago. But I did have one important note early on as I assembled the "apocalypse's" timeline.
His character lived.
Then I realized I completely omitted his death (or survival) in episode #71. It's much more logical and fitting to have him help with the coronation instead of Fiame or some unnamed cleric of Akana that lived to tell the tell.
He also fits an empty part of the backstory that I'll fill in more next week. Sigard will renounce with Paladin warrior ways, revert back to a simple priest and oversee the construction of the Church of Akana in Eding, completed in 1078.
Next: #73 An Epilogue of Sorts....
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