Tales from Anghvir: Jace and the Ruined Town

[This piece was originally called ElvenWar: The Iron Calvalry, but after making some edits, that title didn't really make sense anymore. So now, I present to you a quick story about Jathorn "Jace" Elfsblood!]

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The fires around him were still guttering. Some fires were only embers, other ashes. And yet some still raged, but he was too exhausted to deal with them. The other townsfolk could handle putting out the fires. Poisoned wells don’t make for good drinking supplies, and might not be the best for fighting fires, but it’s what they had left. The war had taken too much. 


Jathorn Elfsblood, called Jace, watched as the sun rose over his ruined town, which was called Amonstil. His shoulders sagged, and his now-blunt sword slipped from his grasp. While some of his fellow villagers made sure to care for people left homeless by the battle around the town, others busied themselves burying bodies.


Corpses. 


Even the word itself was horrifying. Jace thought back to how it all started - his fault, no less. 


It began with a single dispute. This disagreement happened at the Inn of the Howling Winds, which was one of the most popular taverns in the whole town. A vehement argument had broken out over, of all things, an arm-wrestling contest. Even simple tests of strength were worth bragging rights and petty amounts of coin. Morganna Lance, the enchanting barmaid who was rumored to have some nymph blood in her, owned the tavern, but this did little to dissuade the most ardent believers of the whispers that she wasn’t a full-blood. 


Either way, that stance wasn’t exactly outrageous. Amonstil was a place where all kinds of people walked the cobbled streets and mingled, flesh, blood, fists, and steel all. In time, it would gain a reputation like the city-state of Freehaven would have, but alas, that is a tale for another time. 


Jace was a regular there, drinking night after night. He hoped to catch Morganna’s eye, even though he was only the town’s tanner. The service he provided was important but not as important as slinging ale, mead, and beer. He didn’t expect her to take any notice of him but hoped that by winning enough contests she would start to take an interest in him. 


His main rival for her affections was a big brawny bruiser named Thermon Bregarr’Hale, who worked as the resident bouncer in exchange for free room and board. Many suspected him to be a barbarian, as he often boasted of being (a Child of the Sleeping Giant, that is) in loud roars especially when anyone started a bar brawl. 


On this night, Thermon disposed of a drunken lout who had been harassing one of the other tavern maids, Orla, for half the night. The drunkard was named Yob Farnham, and he had been attempting to accost her while she went around collecting steins of beer. 


“A flagon for all!” Thermon yelled after the batwing doors swung shut. This pronouncement aroused a hearty cheer from all of the other patrons. Morganna grimaced, but she was fond of Thermon and Orla, so she let the mass-order pass without comment.


Thermon grinned. “Which fool dares challenge me next?” At this, Jace stood up without another word. He accepted the challenge by hoisting a toast to Thermon, who guffawed at him. “Ho, tanner! Just because you work with leather all day doesn’t mean you are any good at throwing it!”


“I might-could surprise you,” Jace said. This brought about a chorus of laughs from the peanut gallery. 


“Prove it then! Come and arm wrestle me.” So Jace and Thermon squared up at the nearest open table. All commotion in the saloon stopped and a collective frisson of excitement went up around the room. So they locked up and went at it. Despite his slender build, Jace was stronger than he looked. Perhaps it was his elven blood, or something more. In next to no time, Jace had slammed the back of Thermon’s hand against the table, pinning it for the requisite three seconds. A single word went up at that result. 


“WHAT?!” 


Jace smirked at his opponent, who looked utterly flabbergasted. Thermon and Jace both stopped to drink from their cups. Thermon’s ruddy face was redder than anyone had ever seen it. “Two out of three,” he said, his voice an uncharacteristic hiss. It was a far cry from his usual shouts and braggadocio attitude.


“As you wish,” Jace said, taking another sip from his cup. And so they grappled again for several more tilts: Thermon won the first round and Jace the second. By the time the third go-around was ready to begin, Morganna herself finally emerged from behind the bar to get a closer look. Jace looked around and saw her wink at him; although Morganna had a soft spot for the big man, she also enjoyed somebody taking him down a peg from time to time. After all, it stopped him from getting a big head to match the rest of his body.  


The problem was that Thermon tended to be a sore loser; he rarely lost and when he did, it typically stung his pride. “A duel,” he exclaimed. “Tomorrow at noon on the main square. Choose your weapon carefully, tanner. It might be the last one you swing.”


“Hold on,” Morganna interjected. “It’s only fair that I judge the outcome of this duel since neither of you will die. This is a stupid spat between boys, not a fight to the death.” Both contenders nodded their assent at this assertion.  


The next day, Jace and Thermon prepared to cross swords in the main plaza of the town. A testy handshake preceded the bout. Then they clashed all around the square - as per the agreement they had made, Morganna oversaw the proceedings. With her persuasion, all of the normal denizens of the market square had instead vacated, most of them repairing to the pub where Orla was holding court for the day. 


It seemed like a blink of an eye before the fight was over. There had been no stalling or going around the barn to get to the cow. Jace went to go help Thermon up as a show of good sportsmanship, but Thermon slapped his hand away. Morganna walked over to slap some sense into him. “Thermon, behave!” She turned to Jace and offered him a warm embrace. “Well fought,” she whispered in his ear. This wasn’t lost on Thermon, who growled, “This means war.” Jace had no doubt that he meant it, but he wondered which army he was going to conjure out of the sky for this declared war. 


Since Amonstil was a border town, the ruckus reached the ears of both the Elven ruler, their Pathfinder, and the High King of the Anghviri. So it came to pass that detachments of the Solar Guard appeared, followed not long after by all members of the Iron Cavalry. There were more soldiers in this elite company, but the seven highest-ranked troopers were also known as the Ironguard, who protected the personage of the king and his family.


Over the next several days, more and more fighters started showing up around the edges of the town. The townspeople were all on edge. All activities outside the boundaries of the town’s palisade walls halted. No one wanted to be the spark in the tinderbox. The so-called calm before the storm was full of an unnameable tension as if it was an inhale of terror, already held for too long, that nobody wanted to let go of, either. 


It wasn’t long until the battle was joined. At first light on the fifth day, the Children of the Sleeping Giant began to attack. The Iron Cavalry and the Solar Guard repelled them, as one. Later scholars would call the battle the Fury at Fjallorn, after the forest on the outskirts of town that provided much-needed timber. As we have no doubt seen by now, Thermon was not a man to take defeat lying down. Even though much blood was shed that day, the conflict wasn’t over, not by a longshot. 


All was quiet for the next fortnight as the forces moved away from the town. There was a collective sigh of relief, but the gods, sometimes compassionate, sometimes capricious, scorned them. (Later on, it was rumored that the bad blood continued only because it was the will of the Lords of Night, and no others, but it was only ever a rumor.) 


In the shadow of the Moonrise Mountain, the armies fought again as the sun went down and the moons, well, the twin moons Telyssos and Zalkuras began to rise. Bards and minstrels would sing of the Battle of the Dying Light. This time, the Ironguard was turned aside only by the emergence of berserkers, amongst the most feared warriors of the Barbarians, stretching all the way back to the time of Aldwynne the Behemoth, their venerated ancestor who was considered the forefather of all of the Children of the Sleeping Giant. 


The battle continued for a day and a night after that eerie image of the rage of battle under the night sky. It seemed like the war was going in favor of the Barbarians, but in the next engagement, the entire affair was settled for good and all. Swords clashed. Men screamed. More men died. Such was the way of warfare: some campaigns drag on for months or years. Sometimes the string of battles only lasted a few weeks. Either way more’s the pity and less’s the tragedy, from a certain point of view. The Elves had ferocious fighters of their own: in this case, they were called Skinwalkers, those who could shapeshift into the form of animals and unleash their anger on the foolish mortals in their way.


And so it all came back to Jace.   



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cristiana

cristiana's profile picture

This is sooo creative. Honestly. I used to DM before the pandemic, and I it was always such a challenge to create names and places and so on. Plot points are easier than fleshing out a world, for me. So reading this made my jaw drop. This is so cool. Great job 👏👏👏


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I used a fantasy name generator that was a huge help! Right before the pandemic hit I was super into D&D and MTG; it's hard to coordinate games now, though. Want to see more of what I've done?? I tend to bounce around in different genres lol.

by Lordking Byron; ; Report

Absolutely! You should definitely keep sharing stuff. You've got at least one reader!

by cristiana; ; Report

Yay! I never expected to actually get responses on this stuff. I've got a massive world-building bible I can share with you - that's where the bulk of the content is. Also, feel free to grab ideas for your DM campaigning. I want to do that too but I'm not sure how to make it work.

by Lordking Byron; ; Report

Thanks, I definitely will. Looking forward to your next blog!

by cristiana; ; Report