Awake!

Dark Wood

The trees grow closer to the path here, their overhanging limbs create a canopy which no light penetrates. The babbling of a small stream can be heard off to the west, and the normal sounds of a forest reach your ears as well birds calling out to one another, the occasional rustle in the underbrush. Some distance ahead, the forest appears to open out into what looks like a clearing of sorts.

Contents:

Carac

Tet'Nak

Saffron

Obvious exits:

 Path leads to Clearing.

 Stoney Path leads to Off Old South Road - Dunland <>.

[Carac]

A fire burns to give some light and guide those who may choose to come to this gathering to the proper location. Carac sits upon the remains of the cottage that once was home to his father while waiting to see if any will actually arrive. Knowing that it is possible that word has reached the Guardians of this meeting, he keeps one hand upon his mace which lies across his lap as he stares ahead into the dark shadows of the forest.

[Tet'Nak]

Standing next to Carnac, like some sort of creepy advisor, is Tet'Nak, Lord-Hunter of the Barrow Downs, Master of the Marshes. He has many titles and names, but promoting a civil war is something he has never done, perhaps, at least it is not one of his known deeds.

"Will they come, do you think?" the old man asks Carac, "I think they may," he answers himself. "I think, at least, we shall know soon, and we shall see if it is time to move on from this land once again .." He shrugs his shoulders absently.

[Carac]

Carac bats a lock of hair from his eyes and frowns at the darkness ahead. "Someone will come," he answers. "Though if they are friend or foe, that is what we should be asking." He turns towards the Lord Hunter.

"If this turns bad and we manage to make it out alive, I say we head north to Forthunn. The Stag have been without a Chieftain for some time, and it may be we could convince a portion of them to join us." He gives a small shrug and then turns back to the forest.

[Saffron]

A rustle of the tree branches, and a night bird takes flight, interrupting the chorus of crickets.  But by the time the loud flapping of wings trail off, the noise is replaced by soft footfalls, coming from all around.  They come out of shadows, they step out from behind the thick tree trunks, showing themselves in the pale moonlight. 

Mostly men, they number less than 100, more than 50.  They approach. 

[Tet'Nak]

"I have been known as a Stag," Tet'Nak says, "I suppose." He looks up, "No need, those are no Guardians. Let us not get enveloped by an angry mob, eh?" He leans against the debris of the cottage, folding his arms across his chest as the figures approach. "Perhaps you should do the talking, I think you might serve their role as a hero a bit better than I."

[Carac]

Carac nods to Tet'nak and then points towards the far side of the fire. "All of you over there," he says to the new arrivals, points again with his mace. "We wish to see those with whom we speak." He waits a few moments to see if anymore are coming, but when it looks as though no more shall be arriving he moves to keep the fire between him and the crowd and the ruins at his back.

"It is good to see that there are still a few in Dunland who have the heart and courage to take a stand against their oppressors. I am Carac, son of I'racil as you have most likely heard by now. My companion is indeed, Tet'nak, as you have definitely heard. Now tell us, who is that shall speak for you?"

[Saffron]

The air fills with the smell of animal musk and urine favored by the handful of hunters among the crowd.  Most seem like dirt farmers, their clothes and hands covered with a layer of thick dust. 

“I didn’t hear about no standin’ up against oppressors.  I was promised food and riches.”  The face of this man, where not covered with facial hair, is covered with pox marks.  A few of his friends grunt in agreement.

“I don’t speak for those varmin eatin’ whore mongers.” A young farmer spits at their general direction.  “I came because I was told someone could get us into the city.”  His friends voice their agreement.

“And I came to see ghosts with me own eyes.”    

[Tet'Nak]

"Yes, food and riches, just to be handed out." Tet'Nak shakes his head, "You are a fool. If you wish those things, you must earn it. I do not tend to give beggars anything but a wad of my spit in their eye." The old man shakes his head, "Those of you wishing for someting more," he waves a hand at the farmer, "To rise up, then you have found the right plot of land this night."

[Carac]

Carac nods in agreement with the words of his companion. "What Tet'nak says is true, no one will be /given/ anything. Not this night or any other night, but there is food and riches to be had if you are willing to work for it. Not only food and riches, but land, land of your own to do with as you wish not what some far off Chieftain tells you to do with it. The city will be opened up to you again as well, but only if you are willing assist in taking down those who now hold you out of it."

He pauses momentarily to let these words sink in and then thrusts his mace towards the path out of the forest. "All of those who came here looking for a handout, or who are unwilling to make their own destiny leave now. This is your only chance, should you change your mind later and threaten the success of the rest of us, then you will be considered an enemy and your fate will be the same as those Guardians who stood in our way before the gates."

[Saffron]

The rumbling and murmuring spread throughout the gathered men. 

“You mean no more tributes?” A stout farmer asks out loud.  “My land’s mine.  I can feed my family fine if I don’t gotta pay no more tribute.” He stomps his foot.  “I used to make a good livin.  If joining you means no more tributes, I’m in.”  A great number of heads begins to bob up and down.

“But.. won’t going against the Guardians anger the gods?” One of them asks, causing another wave of murmur to arise.

“Hell with the Guardians!” Another one shoots back.

A fistfight threatens to break out when a drunk staggers forward towards Tet’Nak.

“Who you callin’ a beggar?” His breath is so thick with whiskey that it may catch fire.  His eyes are red, his steps unsteady.  “I’d watch yer mouth, old man if I were you.  There’s a price on yer head big enough for a month of drinkin’ so if what yer offerin’ don’t match what they are offerin, I’d..!” He slurs out his threat, and his friends shove an elbow into his gut to shut him up.

“He didn’t mean it.  He didn’t mean nuthin.” His friends says hastily.

[Tet'Nak]

Tet'Nak shakes his head, "If you stand here and ask for handouts, indeed, you are a beggar." Tet'Nak taps the pommel of his sword. "Very foolish would it be you." He clears his throat, "I am Tet'Nak. Even the names of old have fled the ears of Dunland." He growls, "Do you truly believe that the Guardians would give you anything?" He feigns a smile in the darkness, "Do you believe? Imagine all goes right, and you have are heads on pikes, walking into Kierkgard Dun like some hero ... do you believe they would give you anything? Why should they?"

Tet'Nak raises his hands into the air, "Stop being weak! All of you! Stand up. Give those that consider themselves your betters a reason to fear you. For in your passion and numbers for change shall be that fear. It shall spread like a wild fire. It is only you that must stoke the embers of this uprising!"

[Carac]

"Reward?" Carac barks with a laugh. "Do you think the Guardians actually possess the coin they offer? The Guardians do not work they live only on the goods and food they take as so called tax. I would be surprised if you turned up more than a handful of coins if you were to search all of Dunland."

He points the head of his mace towards the drunk and his friends. "Release him," he says to those holding him.

Then his attention is fully upon the drunk. "So you would sell your future, your childrens future, and the futures of all those here and all their children just so you could drink for a month? What name do you go by?"

[Saffron]

His companions release him and the drunk swings his fist angrily towards them.  They dodge the blow quite easily, stepping aside and letting the drunk stumble to his knees.

“His name’s Derby.” It is the friend who answers for him.  Derby the drunk lifts his head and the matted locks cling to his face. 

“Wife’s gone, children’s gone,” he says bitterly.  “What have I got left, eh?”  He barks out to those gathered.  “All of you.  You look upon me with pity but you’re all going to be like me soon!”

[Tet'Nak]

 Tet'Nak shakes his head, "Only if you do nothing. Sit on your asses, yes, drunks you may become. Slaves not only to the spirits which you drink, but those that call themselves your masters." Looking back to Carac, the older man stops speaking for the moment. Carac has fire in his speech, and perhaps he will sway some of them, at the very least, perhaps not the drunk. But what use is a drunk really, besides sending them off to the front to get hacked to pieces.

[Carac]

Carac lifts a booted foot from the ground and uses in an attempt to push Derby completely to the ground. "What Tet'Nak and this Derby say is correct, this is indeed your future if you continue on the path you are now. The Guardians, the Chieftains, they will continue to take and take until you have nothing left."

He looks down at Derby and shakes his head in disgust. "Do not pity this one though," he adds. "For it is because of men like him that you and Dunland are in the position you find yourself." He clears his throat loudly and then spits a wad of phlegm towards the fallen drunk. "Men who are too coward to stand up for themselves, they allow others to take whatever they wish from them without raising a hand and claim they do it because it is the way it's always been done. These same men then turn around and will sell their friends, their family, even their own children into slavery in hopes of winning favor with those who are slowly destroying them."

He bats a lock of hair from his eys and looks upon the crowd. "Are the rest of you Derby's as well? Or do you wish to be more than," he points towards Derby, "this sack of swill?"

“I’m not like Derby!”

At last, a clear youthful voice answers the call.  “I’m sick and tired of paying tribute to Chieftain and the Guardians to protect us from nothing!”

The young trapper steps forward.  “They take tribute and we get nothing but promises that they will protect us when the orc invasion comes.  They grow fat and lazy in their warm cozy houses on the meat we hunt!  I have had ENOUGH!”

There is cheer as most of them at last step forward. 

“I ain’t no coward!”

“Neither am I!”

[Tet’Nak]

Tet'Nak says, "Good!" yells Tet'Nak, drawing his swords and hoisting it into the air. "Take up arms, pitchforks, picks, knives, forks, rocks, whatever you have or can find! You shall live as Dunlendings! Under no boot! Death to the traitors of our kin! You shall kill as I have killed. The enemies of our people, from within and without!" Tet'Nak smiles under his hood, pleased that they have been able to stir the mob as effectively as they have."

[Carac]

Carac gives a pleased nod. "Then let it begin," he says. "Return to your homes, those of you with women and children who can not fight, send them north to Laeg. Do not fear orcs, for I travelled that land and there were none to be seen. The old road is no more dangerous than its ever been. If you've older children tell them what you have heard here tonight and send them out as runners to all three counties, spread the word throughout the clans that the time is now for Dunland to redeem itself!"

Again he lifts a hand to bat a lock of hair from his eye. "As for the Guardians, we will begin by taking out the next patrol that comes into the Old Village. With their robes a few of us can gain entry into Kierkgard and take out some key targets."

He looks down at Derby now. "This one, however, he will betray us all if we allow him to live. Our plans will be finished before they've even begun." He gives him a hard shove with his boot and pushes him towards the crowd. "You know what needs to be done with him, I suggest you do it quickly. We have much to do before the sunrises."

[Saffron]

“DEATH TO THE TRAITORS OF OUR KIN!”

The mob has found their voice, at last.  Sticks, staves, bows and clubs suddenly find new life as every last wielder raises it high into the air.

“DEATH TO THE TRAITORS OF OUR KIN!”

They cluster around Derby, weapons, fists, boots flailing wildly.  In no time at all, every bone is shattered on the drunk’s body until he is nothing but a limp corpse that barely looks human.

[Tet'Nak]

Tet'Nak slinks back slightly, his smile never fading. "I love a good riot," he says, withdrawing his sword and sliding it back into his sheath.