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10/15/2009 7:12:54 PM
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HmmHmm
Posts 34
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PART 1
Clang! Clang!
The sounds of ringing metal were the first sounds heard from the courtyard of the manor owned by an unusual being known only as Kavanaux. For such a large building - one befitting a noble - it housed only two.
“Parry my strike using my momentum, not your strength!” came the barking command by the taller of the two combatants. He then lunged forward and drew his long bastard sword in a downward, overhand motion at the shorter young man. The sword came down heavy, its mass whooshing the air in its wake – but did not hit its mark, as its path was redirected by a deft flick of a rapier held by the younger man, rapier’s thin blade flexing to absorb most of the downward force, while redirecting the momentum of the swing wide right. Before the older man reacted to the parry, a dull rapier tip was pointed at his throat.
“Good, Kaz’enaux, good!” Said the middle-aged man as his son withdrew his rapier and sheathed it on his belt. “You’re getting a grasp on the true parry. Strength is the opponent’s weakness; use it to your advantage and your hand speed will take care of the rest.”
“Yes, Father.”
“But how will you handle an opponent whose speed is your greater?” A split-second later, the bastard sword was back in ready position. Kavanaux’s hands worked faster and faster, as he swung the heavy sword one-handed in a figure-eight pattern about his body. The son’s slitted eyes went wide as he marveled at the blinding speed that which his father kept the heavier sword – then he felt the thud of the bastard sword’s dull edge upon his arm, followed immediately after by searing pain as his rapier fell harmlessly to the floor. This was going to leave a bruise. It was all he could do to tumble backwards away from further danger, retrieving the fallen rapier with his off-hand mid-roll. The young man pointed the rapier at his opponent in the ready position, but his elder was upon him in a flurry of bastard sword strikes from all angles. He spun a pirouette to avoid a thrust of the large sword, only to realize the thrust was merely a feint, as his father deftly twisted his body to carry the sword over in a slash towards Kaz’enaux’s torso. He had to lean his body backwards, almost to the point of falling over to avoid being hit as the bastard sword slashed the air over him. His father, veteran of a lifetime of battles, saw what his son was doing and merely kicked him with a boot. Kaz’enaux fell onto his back in a heap – but only for a split second, as he used a hand to push off the ground, a tumble roll and backflip to get back to his feet. Kavanaux smiled, impressed by his son’s defensive tactics. But on he charged, testing his son’s endurance and ability to focus when he was overmatched. A diagonal slash was turned away by a rapier hilt, and the following upwards strike also caught air, as Kaz’enaux leapt back in anticipation. To his credit he dodged, parried, spun and rolled away from all but a few strikes that nicked his bruised arm. Once his father sensed a weakened limb, he focused the majority of his attacks on it, and from then on it was a one-sided affair; both knew that the bout was already decided. His father laughed triumphantly, the sibilant hiss in his laughter taking out much of the boisterousness. His open mouth revealed a many-forked tongue not unlike the son’s own.
“I hate it when you do that,” he remarked dryly as he rubbed his bruised arm.
“You’ve much to learn, Kaz. If you wish to best me in combat, you’ve got about – oh, a hundred more years worth of training to go,” his father said as Kaz’enaux rolled his eyes. “Now, we must eat before I am to attend the Council meeting.”
“I thought the Council of Purple Dragons doesn’t meet until tomorrow?” His father was too far ahead of him along the hallway to hear.
Kavanaux was a heralded Knight of the Purple Dragons of Cormyr. He was the first non-human or non-elf to achieve that rank, and did so in a short amount of time. His feats in combat were often the subject of the local bards’ poetry and lyric. Beloved by the people for giving back to his city, he was even looked upon as a hero by the locals.
A descendant of Yuan-ti blood, Kavanaux broke through the barriers of distrust and discrimination both by his deeds and his effervescent smile and charm. The bards would often proclaim he would eventually hold a high position within the King’s own personal guard someday.
"Kaz. Mouth. Shut," Kavanaux said flippantly. His son was chewing his food with his mouth open again, and that annoyed him more than a rapier strike ever could. "You really need to learn proper etiquette, son. No, no - don't put more food in your mouth, it's already full!" he shouted as he dropped his hands and utensils on the table. Kaz'enaux had a right cheek full of venison and he had been attempting to stuff his left cheek full of vegetables, all with an innocent what, me? look in his eyes. "Son...." Being a single father took its toll in times like these.
Kaz’enaux spent the remainder of the day practicing rapier strikes on a wooden combat dummy. He noticed that it would need to be replaced soon; the block of wood that served as its head was nearly slashed to shreds, wooden splinters pointing every which way as if it had a full mane of hair. He concentrated the next hour of practice into attempting to slice off these pieces of “hair”. Exhausted, he lay on the ground mumbling about how he wished he had hair – he was deprived of any hair since he was a youth, of which he used to be made fun of on many occasions by his young peers at the time. However...
“Crap.” He had laid down on the wrong spot, and found himself stuck with 52 wooden splinters on his back.
His father did not return that night, which did not surprise young Kaz’enaux. His father would often be gone for a tenday while attending council meetings of the Purple Dragon, discussing everything from the defensive perimeter of the kingdom to which women were appropriate to wed amongst the noble families. He wondered about his mother whom he had never met, who she was or what she was, as he drifted off to sleep.
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10/15/2009 8:00:20 PM
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bbloom
Posts 1437
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Actually, I thought that "clang clang" was coming from Kama's pants from all that 2da work.
--
Brian S. Bloom
Realms of Trinity Executive Producer
Neverwinter Nights Podcast Host
Area Developer & Scripter
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10/22/2009 12:27:15 PM
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HmmHmm
Posts 34
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Part 0, Kavanaux
(Background story on Kaz's father)
It was well-known that the Purple Dragons and War Wizards of Cormyr were overstretched. They had multitudes of goblins and orcs to deal with in the northern forests and multiple invasions of neighboring cities to protect against. The King of Cormyr eventually resorted to recruiting lesser talent into his Purple Dragon Knights and War Wizards to dispatch smaller threats. Kavanaux was one of these recruits, but not for his lack of skill with the blade. He had already made a name for himself within the city by taking up bounties on bandit lords and assisting merchant caravans. He was handsomely rewarded for his accomplishments, for each job he took on was successful. He gave back to the people of Cormyr by giving nearly all of the golden lion, Cormyrean currency, rewarded him back to the citizens, funding many housing projects and new construction to aid the financially crippled. He was enormously popular with the common folk, and the King took notice. Although little was known about his past, by bestowing upon him entrance to knighthood, the King felt he could ensure his people’s satisfaction.
Once he became a member of the Purple Dragons, Kavanaux was assigned to a growing number of important missions. He was a member of a small group of Knights and Wizards assigned to dispatch a clan of orcs who were growing in influence in the region. They had begun to unify multitudes of orc and goblin clans together under one banner. Before they could consummate this unification, Kavanaux’s contingent struck with deadly force. The Yuan-ti pureblood scored the most kills in the attack, first leading a surprise attack by sneaking into the orc fort and killing their surprised chieftan the night before. By the following morning, their tribe was in disarray and the Cormyrean force suffered little casualties.
It was accomplishments like these that allowed Kavanaux to rise up the ranks and gave him a well-earned reputation for tactical genius, and he would soon become a member of the Council of Purple Dragon Knights, charged with strategic tactical defense (STD) and offensive coordination development (OCD), answering only to their King and his generals. By then, Kavanaux had allayed all fears and concerns regarding his bloodlines and gained the city’s trust. With the tactics he introduced, the Purple Dragons’ STD’s became contagiously efficient throughout the kingdom, and its OCD’s improved tenfold with his introduction of a mid-battlefield communications and coordination system using simple wizard spells such as Faerie Fire to relay areas of need along the front lines.
In short order, he had become the city’s most exotic hero.
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10/22/2009 2:27:13 PM
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HmmHmm
Posts 34
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Part 2
The sounds of a blazing horn woke him. He could hear the clinking of steel on concrete in the distance as he sat up from his bed. Peering out of his bedroom window, he saw dozens of armored soldiers rushing towards the castle that housed the Purple Dragon across the street, weapons in tow.
Just then he heard another noise – this time from within the manor. It was the back door.
“Son!” came his Father’s unmistakable shout. “Son! Grab your things, we’re leaving, right now!” Kaz’enaux’s door burst open as his father came bursting in. He looked the worse for wear. His mithral plated armor looked battered in several places, and his arms were caked in blood – whether it was his own or from others, Kaz’enaux could not know. The Purple Dragon insignia on his belt buckle was stained crimson instead of the bright purple it normally was. “Light travel, son. Grab your weapons while I get gold from the chest,” Kavanaux said quickly as he turned and ran the other way down the hall, leaving bloody bootprints in his wake.
Kaz’enaux rubbed his eyes. What was going on? He rushed to his cabinet, found his outdoor clothing and dressed quickly. Next he opened his armoire and found his trusted rapier and dirk – not the dull practice versions he used in training, but forged of the finest adamantine the dwarves could mine. His father had gifted these to him, and Kaz’enaux took great pains to keep them clean and polished. Weapons sheathed, he grabbed a travel cloak and whipped it around his neck – just when his father burst in again. He had a sack of gold with him tied to his belt now, and he had hastily cleaned off the blood from his Purple Dragon-commissioned mithral plate armor. As he donned a large robe and cape over his armor. he gave his son a once over and a nod.
“What’s happening, Fath—“
“Ready? Good. Let’s move,” Kavanaux interrupted, putting an end to that line of questioning for now. Together, they ran towards the back of the manor and out the back door. This was the last time Kaz’enaux would be home.
A crowd of people were rushing their way towards the source of the commotion, as Kavanaux led his son on a fast-paced walk away from the scene, and towards the city gates.
“What’s going on?” Kaz’enaux called out to a passerby. The woman stopped, turned towards him and Kaz’enaux could see there was visible distress and sadness in her face.
“The Purple Dragon leaders…they’re dead! All dead! This can’t be true!” She yelled to the gods above.
With wide eyes he looked to his father for answers. He was already twenty paces ahead of him. He ran to catch up.
“Father!” No answer, as Kavanaux had walked briskly past the front gates.
“Father?” No answer, as Kavanaux made his way towards the northern forest.
“FATHER!” No answer, as Kavanaux began to navigate through the thick forest, full of dangers from goblins to orcs. His weapons were drawn, and so Kaz’enaux withdrew his own rapier and dirk, realizing the potential dangers of their surroundings.
Finally, after an hour of making their way northwest through thick brush, fallen tree trunks and biting branches, his father stopped to take a breath, and turned towards him.
“Son…we need to talk.” His tone was grim, and his face held neither a smile nor sadness. No sh!t Dad, Kaz’enaux thought but remained silent, waiting for answers.
“I…I’m not who you think I am. I am your father - that’s obvious - but I am not the defender of Cormyr you thought I was.” His son just inclined his head to the side, not understanding.
“I was sent by our brothers to infiltrate this city, to understand its defenses and weaknesses. I have killed the majority of the influential Purple Dragons. The time is near for the takeover of Cormyr.”
“Wha-? Who? Why?” He had to take a few seconds to compose himself. “Who are these ‘brothers’ you speak of? Why did you do this?” He was begging his father to tell him he was lying.
“Our brothers, our Yuan-ti brethren. We are strong, but we did not know how to gain a foothold on this city until now, until me. Once I report back to the Elders, we can finalize plans for the invasion. Why did I do this? It is who I am, son. It is who you are. Cormyr has raised you well, but you are part of the Yuan-ti. You will understand everything once we are back to our stronghold.” He said matter-of-factly. He showed no remorse for the acts he claimed to have committed.
“But you are a hero in Cormyr!” he pointed back to the city, his beloved home, “The King loves you, the people love you! Why would you betray them? What have the past twenty years been to you?” Kaz’enaux was shaking from the anger and shock he felt by what he heard. He could barely hold his weapons, let alone his composure.
“It is a false love, son. The people love me only for my gold, for my deeds. The King loves me because the people demand it. It was easy to earn their respect, their trust – a few golden lions here, a few caravans saved there, and a few orc tribes wiped out. But one indiscretion and we would be exiled. They are waiting for just one mistake, so they can be rid of people like us. You don’t hear it, but I do - I hear what’s said behind my back by the Dragons. Deep within their hearts, they hate me…they hate us. We will never be family to Cormyr, nor can we let Cormyr become family to us.”
Kaz’enaux was dizzy with emotion. All that he had been led to believe about his father had been a lie. He had been born in Cormyr, spent twenty good years wanting to be like his father, to be a hero, to be a savior, to be loved by the city he called home. Most of all, he wanted his father to be proud of his son. Now, all he wanted was to throttle him and make him see the error of his ways.
“You think by killing a few Dragons, you can defeat the whole of Cormyr? The War Wizards no doubt using their magic to find out what happened. If they find out it was you, do you think they won’t put two and two together? Do you think Sembia, Arabel, Daggerdale, do you think they will just sit and watch Cormyr fall? You’re mad Father, truly crazy!”
“That has been thought of, I assure you. Son, please come home with me and you will see things in a different light. You will see the beauty in our people, the harmony of our purpose. We are stronger and better in every way. We are your family.”
“Father…the f$%#? You really expect me to give up everything for you, for this? You didn’t raise me to betray my home. You didn’t raise me to turn my back on a city that’s been so good to me, to us. You didn’t raise me to be a Yuan-ti. You didn’t raise me to be…evil,” he exclaimed, using hand gestures to accentuate every point. This was all so absurd. “I…I can’t let you do this. Turn yourself in, Father. Please. I can’t let you destroy Cormyr.”
With a heavy, resigned sigh, Kavanaux shifted his body into a fighting stance as his son looked at him in disbelief. “Son, I’m sorry. It appears I cannot convince you to return with me. Believe me, this is the last thing I want to do, but I must. Prepare yourself – this is not a training session.”
Kaz’enaux was in total shock and disbelief, but he assumed his fighting stance, fearing the inevitable. His rapier and dirk were unsteady, the result of his shaking hands.
Kavanaux charged at his son with both bastard swords twirling in his hands. When he ended the twirl, his off-hand sword was gripped hilt-forward blade-back and his main hand sword in the traditional blade-forward positions. He swung his main sword at Kaz’enaux, which was parried away with a rapier. Immediately Kavanaux twirled his body and attacked with a backhanded stab with his off-hand, which barely missed the mark as his son leapt back. On came the main-hand sword again, this time in a push stab, but Kaz’enaux met the tip of the blade square with a rapier hilt. The jolt of the metal on metal made them both recoil, and Kaz’enaux used this opportunity to go on the offensive. On came the rapier from unconventional angles, using his dexterous wrists to alter the angles. At the same time, he used his dirk to stab at his father’s arms. None found their mark, as each rapier strike was easily deflected away. As the dirk strikes came in, Kavanaux was able to catch his son’s wrist, load up and land the hilt of his sword on his son’s temple and eye socket. Kaz’enaux saw a flash of light, and disorientation took out his legs as he crumbled to the floor, nearly passing out. He found he could only see through one eye, the skin around the other eye rapidly watering, swelling and blocking his vision. His father’s blade was at his throat. “You cannot win here. I know your every move. Please son, please come to your senses and return with me!”
Groggily, Kaz’enaux shifted his body back from the blade. “No!” he yelled as he leapt back to his feet. His hands worked his blades furiously, trying to break through his father’s defenses. He tried spinning strikes, but they were only parried wide. He tried a desperate move, a feint, but his father saw right through it.
Kaz’enaux saw what was coming next and he could not do anything to stop it. He was caught off-balance by a hard parry of a rapier stab attempt, and saw the bastard sword tip coming straight at his stomach. His body weight was shifted too much to one side for any quick evasive maneuver. He slammed his eyelids shut as he felt the metal puncture his stomach, followed by a searing pain the likes of which he had never felt before. His body tensed and he felt warmth as blood started to pour out of his torn stomach in riverlets. He felt that same warmth make its way up his body, all the way up to his throat and mouth, and he threw up blood. Kavanaux retracted the blade out of his stomach, which felt even more painful than going in. He fell to his knees first, then to the ground on his side, clutching his stomach in a fetal position.
“Father…” Kaz’enaux barely was able to speak. His voice was hoarse, yet pleading. He expected his father to finish him. But Kavanaux only stood there, his mind reeling. Suddenly, images of the past twenty years flooded his thoughts. They were a pleasant twenty years, and his son was a big part of that.
Suddenly, he was devastated and appalled at what he had done to his only son. More than anything, he wanted to carry his son to his people, but he knew Cormyr had made it so Kaz’enaux could never accept that life.
With another longing look at his bloodied and battered son, Kavanaux turned and ran away, tears rimming his eyes. However, he did not head in the direction of his original destination. He walked in the opposite direction, away from both Cormyr and his Yuan-ti stronghold, towards Sembia. He had killed his son, his legacy. He had thought this might be a possibility and thought he was prepared for it. He now wanted to kill himself for this act of betrayal. So he ran away from everything.
A strange warmth came over Kaz’enaux as he bled out. A puddle of blood had formed beneath him, as if his lifeforce was being transferred from within his body to the ground below. Eyes closed, he thought this was the feeling that precludes death. This isn’t so bad, he thought, and then he saw darkness.
He did not expect to open his eyes again, but he did.
edited by HmmHmm on 10/22/2009
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10/27/2009 2:01:28 PM
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HmmHmm
Posts 34
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Part 3
Awake Kaz’enaux, it is not your time to leave this world,” came a soothing, melodic female voice. He turned to face the voice, and was met with a beautiful elf’s visage.
“Who are you…and how do you know my name, elf?”
“I am called Leyenne and I am a half-elf, not unlike yourself in a way. You have been watched from afar, as we have watched your father ever since he set foot in Cormyr. We know much about you, and we watched your battle with your father a week ago, when it was revealed to us your father’s true intentions.” A week? I’ve been out for a week? He thought to himself, but he had more pressing questions.
“Where...where has my father gone?”
“We know not. But we suspect Kavanaux did not join his kinfolk like he said he would. From all of the intelligence we have gathered, the Yuan-ti lair lies far west, not east – the direction he was last seen, towards Sembia,” she replied. He sat up to look upon his body. Gone were his travel clothes, replaced by silk robes that clung to his skin like static. More importantly, the wound on his stomach had closed, although his insides still throbbed. His arms and his head still hurt. He looked up at her, questioningly, and she answered before he could ask the question. “I have closed and healed your wounds by divine means. You were hurt badly, and likely would have died had we not intervened in time. It will take some time to fully recover, but you will. You have Milil to thank for that,” she stated, finishing with a smile that took his breath away.
“Why did you help me…? And…where am I?”
“You are in the care of my kinfolk, a small group of elves and half-elves dedicated to doing Milil’s work. You are…” she hesitated, “we are in a forest not far from the scene of your battle. I am afraid I cannot reveal our location to you...for security reasons.” She sounded like she did not like what she just said. “We helped you because we knew your heart was pure and untainted by your kinfolk. We believe you still have a job to do…to find your father again before he changes his mind and returns to the Yuan-ti. We believe he has information that is vital to their plans; without it, they may not attempt their invasion.”
“You…want me to kill him?”
“It is vital to Cormyr and all of us that he not reach his kin. He has information on its defenses, its strategies, everyth –“
“Yeah yeah, I get it,” he interrupted, “and I agree that he can’t reach them. If Cormyr falls, everyone is in danger. We need to alert the King.”
“That was done three days ago by my kin who witnessed your conversation and your battle. He put in a good word for you, but the King is understandably furious, you must understand. It was all we could do to negotiate for your life, but this means you are henceforth banned from entering the city proper. He would rather see you dead than return to his domain,” she said in a somber tone.
Kaz’enaux was devastated. He had lost his father and his home in one fell swoop. He rubbed his bruised limbs. “So…what am I supposed to do now?”
“We will nurse you back to health, and then…you must go. You must go and find your father. If necessary, you must kill him for the good of this region, all our homes. We will train you in elven swordplay, and we will train you to step as quiet as us. And if you wish it, Milil’s doctrine. We witnessed your skill with the rapier – Milil’s weapon,” she said with a warm smile, “and you were quite impressive. Your father’s skill is renowned, but with our training and your talent, I feel you can eventually match him.”
He thought about it and came to the conclusion that he had no other choice. He had lost everything, so perhaps now was the chance to try anything. He nodded his agreement, and she smiled pleasantly in return. He decided he liked to see her smile.
Months passed, which to Kaz’enaux felt like years. As his body was recovering, he was taught the tenets of the Lord of Songs, which he found suited him well. He was amazed at the peace these people had due to embracing poetry and song as a part of their daily lives. Every day, he woke up to elven songs to welcome the morning and lullabies to embrace the night. Their god was not about warfare, duties or chivalry, but of channeling peace from natural beauty within, as well as the occasional flamboyant display of swashbuckling. He was also amazed at the skill that these elves possessed with the rapier. His father could not teach him the intricacies of the rapier, since he was not as well-versed in this weapon. Once he was healthy enough for rigorous activities, Leyenne and her associates went to work training him in the duties and proper channeling of the divine. Before he knew it, he was becoming a priest of Milil. He found peace in finding a being higher than his father to look up to, and to praise each day for this second chance at living. He found that he had untapped sources of energy within, channeling it into paintings, poetry, and song. Even though his sibilance prevented him from being able to sing as graceful as elvenkind, he thoroughly enjoyed the attempts (much to the elves’ dismay). Further, his skill with the rapier and dirk were improving under the tutelage of elven rapiermasters. He found he could mix the elven techniques of patience and precision with the flair and force that his father had taught him. He was also taught the proper balance and footwork in order to be as silent and stealthy as any elf. He once crept up on Leyenne in the shadows without her being aware of him – enhanced hearing and all – and frightened her, earning a ringing slap on the face. All in all, he was having fun again, and finding purpose. Through it all, Leyenne was there to give him words of encouragement yet give him an honest assessment of his progress, good or bad.
All told, he spent the better part of a year with the elves.
“You are ready, Kaz’enaux. I am proud of the way you have progressed. We only had a short amount of time to work with you, but we feel that with your improved weapon skill combined with Milil’s blessings, you will prevail. I apologize on behalf of my people for not trusting you those many months ago, but we do now. You are one with Milil, and only with Milil can you move forward with your life. What your father did is regrettable, but you are not your father. Overtake him; you must remember that your purpose is greater than his, and only then can you overcome him,” she said as Kaz’enaux was strapping a large sack over his back, readying for extended travel in the wild. “Our intelligence suggests that Kavanaux’s last known location was at or around Trinity City, near Sembia – apparently there has been a great disturbance in that city. What he may be doing there, we know not…but he is involved, somehow. Find him, and bring many Cormyreans peace.”
It pained him greatly to have to leave the elves, but he knew that he had to find his father, one way or the other. He felt he owed his birth city, his home of twenty years, at least that much. With one last, longing look at Leyenne and the elves who watched him depart, he started a brisk walk in the direction of Sembia, towards Trinity City.
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