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Great Journey of Two Months of Great Joinification'ing
The Burnten'ed Times, 10,661
Introduction
After his fateful day at the Gathering of Villages in Portund, and equally (perhaps even fatefully more) fateful meeting with Duane the Magic Lance, young Propitious Opportune had found himself in quite a pickle. He was charged with building and leading an army capable of defeating the terrible Rhaja Lord and the horrible creatures spawned from the Blackest Pit of the Beutrafficades. What follows is a summary of his journey, in which he joined together and unified ("joinification'ed") warriors from many disparate races and nations throughout much of The Shield. The army that he would lead would be the army of the Great Rebellion of the Unified Rebels of the Free Lands of Most of the Shield.
The Companies of Men
Men (who among the races of Battal were not considered the smartest nor most discerning) flocked from all around to join young Propitious' fight against the Rhaja Lord. They felt lost and leaderless in the times following The Sundering, and would basically follow anyone who was foolish enough to raise his hand. Propitous was such a man.
Whether they were the wild folk from the Arcane Northern Realms, raving lunatics who all claimed to be the King of Morlond's Field, or just plain complete rock-pounding idiots from Urgel, men came from miles around to join the fight against the Dark Lord who had burnten'ed their lands.
"Hail, Propitious" shouted the Captain of the Guard, "Hail unto thee who has risen and shall lead us against the Dark Lord!"
"But I'm just a Mud Farmer..."
"Hail to thee, Man who has triumphed over the Dark Alliance of Earth and Water, Hail!"
"But I don't know anything about..."
The Captain rose from his knee and walked up to Propitious, taking him by the arm and whispering to him tersely.
"Look, kid... You've got about a thousand men here who've come here to follow you to their death at the hands of the Evil One... you could at least be a bit grateful, okay?"
Propitous straightened up and looked over the crowd of dirty, uneducated faces.
"Er... Mighty... Warriors of Men... Hail?"
The crowd of men cheered and rejoiced their new leader, shouting his name to the heavens above.
It became clear to Propitious (and more importantly, Duane) that an army of Men was not nearly bright nor courageous enough to defeat the foul Rhaja Lord... and that for the Epic Battle that was bound to happen sooner or later, they would need an array of more fantastical and exotic allies, and probably a secret weapon.
The Dwarves of the (duh) Mountain Halls
Duane led young masters Propitious and Garvey into the Southern arm of the Beutrafficades. The companions were lost for several days, largely because Duane started acting very peculiar as they drew closer to the great mountains, babbling on about something precious to him as they climbed through the deepening mists across the sharp rocks of the Beutrafficades. Probably the altitude was affecting him.
Finally they reached Old Lost Dwarf Kingdom Beneath Some Mountains Somewhere, home to Br'gi, the King Under Some Old Mountain. The Dwarves were awed at the sight of Duane, an object so rarely seen, so finely crafted (must have been a Dwarf, they supposed) that its own Epicness gave it life. The talking lance held the Mountain Dwarves in thrall as he told the tale of the Rhaja Lord's conquest of the overworld... a conquest that could only be brought to an end by one of the most rarest, most finely crafted of weapons.
"A rare, finely crafted weapon?" sputtered
Garvey, "Oh, brave Mister
Duane, do you mean to sacrifice your own life to kill the Dark Lord?"
"No, you stupid arseholder! I'm talking about her! The one made by the eldest Dwarf Kings! She's our only hope!"
Duane spoke of course, of the precious (his precious) Firebrand Dagger. The Dwarves, so easily swayed by a talking piece of metal, agreed to give Propitious the dagger so that he might bring an end to the evil that had burnten'ed so much of the world above. Br'gi also sent a commission of Several Dwarves to aid them, as he was sure that they would have to have some sort of Epic Battle at some point.
Arrival of the Eagles
As the journey continued south from the Beutrafficades, the companions encountered a flock of majestic Eagles (who had made sure to find them while they were still in the mountains, a good place to alight on high rocks and appear majestic). The Eagles were infuriated that the fire from the burning lands of Men had sullied their Great Tome of Highest Knowledge of the Great Eagles, which was written on the side of a mountain in Eagle Droppings.
"Men and Dwarves consorting with a talking flagpole?" sneered Eagle-King
Hygwair, "how egregiously perverse! I suppose what shall follow my chidings shall be a great explanation of how the flagpole is actually a lance, how the dwarves are actually halflings, and how the men are actually elves, and that all of you don't actually have anything better to do that roll around in the soot like common Swinemen, wagging your vestigial tails to the rhythms of your fornication?"
The Eagles had basically made up their mind to help destroy the Rhaja Lord anyway, but felt like giving the bipeds a hard time anyway, and took it as an opportunity to make some great speeches about their superiority. When they finally flew away to return to the Highest Eyries of the Low Valleys of Mandleclang the two Men and Several Dwarves breathed a sigh of relief. Duane mostly cursed.
The Bovine Heroes
The companions trudged through the Great Plateaus of Yymp in a heavy downpour. The inclement weather seemed to hide most of the landscape, and the fog of the great Mist Sea rose up and covered the land. They came upon a great grove of trees, every one of which had been pulled out of the ground. Propitious and Garvey prepared for the worst, and the Dwarves fingered their axes nervously as they moved through the ominous remnants of the forest. Just as the weather started to clear, Propitious and Garvey slid down a giant mud gully, and straight into the teapot of Haul and Gaul.
"Oh my, Mister Propitious!" gargled
Garvey, "We're drowning in some horrible witches brew!"
"What a waste, now... " said Haul, "...we'll have to throw it out." finished Gaul.
"Throw what out?"
"The Root Tea we were... ...making, of course!"
"Is that why all the trees were pulled out of the ground?" sputtered a surprised Garvey, who managed be even a bit more surprised than usual.
"If you know a better way to... ...get roots, you let us know." smirked Haul and Gaul
The twin Hammer Lords enthusiastically vowed to aid the fight against the Rhaja Lord. The companions moved west, their ears filled with the thunderous hooves and low bellows of their new friends.
The Very Ugly Ones
Haul and Gaul attracted much attention to their passage. The sight of a traveling pack of Men, Dwarves, and Legendary Minotaur was more than just a bit out of the ordinary. As their journey across the Great Plateaus continued, they began to notice that they were being followed...
Haul and Gaul sniffed the air: "The air is foul with... ...the smell of dog-things."
As soon as the words had left the wolly lips of the Hammer Lords, nine shadowy figures slowly, steadily walked... or possibly floated... out of the gloaming mists.
"You..." hissed one of them, "Carry an evil burden through this place."
"You mean Duane?" asked Propitious, "He's not evil."
"He's not?" the figure rose up and threw back his black hood to reveal the ugly features of a Grottoling Shaman. "Hey, Buddy, you were wrong again! They're not evil! You owe me five widgets!"
"Buddy?" asked Garvey.
"We're Grottoling Shaman," explained the robed figure, "We're all named Buddy."
The Grottoling Shaman were greatly relieved that this strange company was not meaning harm upon their lands... and they were a bit embarrassed about killing one of them. They agreed to aid Propitious Opportune in his quest, and lend their unique talents of Shamanic Elemenstation to his cause.
Legends of the River
The next chapter of the journey is best described by Appendix D of Tales of Yorn:
Suddenly, from the fog of the
Sw'ftfl'w River there emerged a lone figure, walking somewhat like and somewhat unlike a man, clad in the deep blue of the river, clad in the deep blue of the flowing waters, sword in hand.
"Who are you, apparition!" shouted Garvey, "Speak!"
"I know who I am, foolish Man," slowly intoned the figure, "the more important question is... who are you? You journey in search of aid... your future lies on the field of blood and steel... your quest rests as if on the edge of a knife... and... ugh... one of you has recently partaken of Whumpblatter."
"How know you all this?"
"It's this stupid Ring of Immortality. Tells me all kinds of stuff, and then I have to go on some sort of quest or mission or something to get on with my life. It's really annoying. And don't get me started on immortality... there's all kinds of drawbacks."
"Like what?"
"Like those guys," he motioned, pointing at a group of nine red-robed figures lurking anxiously behind him, "the Ringlings."
"Oh my! Are they dangerous?"
"Not really. They're the descendents of the ones who made my Ring. Mostly they follow me around, wondering how well it works. Basically they're waiting for me to die. And do you have any idea how bad it looks to have nine robed hissing wierdos following you everywhere?"
"Well..." said Propitious, glancing back at the Grottolings, "I'd have to say... Yes."
"Heh. You guys are pretty cool. I'm S'yrf'yl the Immortal. And whatever it is you're up to, count me in. It's hard to find decent folks to party with these days."
"Mister Propitious is leading an army to fight the Rhaja Lord."
"Oh. Wait... that guy? Crap... kinda wish I'd asked first..."
"My lord," whispered one of the Ringlings, "we should bring The Ring!"
"Yes, yes," the other Ringlings chimed in, as S'yrf'yl sighed deeply.
"What do the dog-shadows... ...speak of?" asked Haul and Gaul.
"Ugh," sighed the Immortal, "it's That One Ring. They carry it everywhere, always whispering about its power."
"Is it powerful?" asked Garvey, much to the annoyance of S'yrf'yl.
"Most assuredly" rasped one of the Ringlings, "our people created it long ago with the help of... some great ancient power, so that... it could... y'know... do something."
"Like kill the Rhaja Lord?"
"Maybe!" said another Ringling, excitedly, "I mean, we should bring it along... y'know, just in case!"
"Yes!" all the Ringlings agreed, "this could be it! The power of That One Ring will truly be revealed!"
S'yrf'yl the Immortal grabbed Garvey by the collar and shook him violently, shouting in his face: "WHY THE HELL DID YOU HAVE TO SAY THAT?"
The Wooded Vale
Now swelling with even more epic members, the company passed through the Arkenvale of Mandleclang as they circled back toward the villages of Portund. Here, they happened upon the great warrior, Fyngolfyllys.
"I am Fyngolgyllys, Captain of the Woodland
Wood-Archers of the Wooded Vale of
Arkenvale, in the Woodfolk Kingdom of the Lady..."
"Alright, alright, we get it, okay!" shouted an exasperated Duane, "I mean, this story has been going on for months now, and all we've been doing is walking around, hiking through tunnels and meeting people! Let me guess: you want to take us to you secret wooden fortress and pretend that you don't trust us and aren't sure if you can stand against our common enemy, and then at the last minute decide that you and your forest friends are going to help us."
"Well..." said Fyngolfyllys, "I mean, yeah, but--"
"But nothing, you mincing arseholder! Go get whatever sissy longhaired arrow people you can gather and meet us in Portund for an Epic Battle. You know the drill, right?"
"Well, yeah, but... I'm just used to lots more... y'know, giving gifts and naming things and stuff first. You sure you don't want to do that? I can hook you up with some daggers, maybe some magic... water..."
"Magic water? You're just making it this up as you go along!" spat Duane, who then whispered: "Just meet us on the field and bring some Elves with you... the more extreme, the better!"
"Wait... how do you know that I have Elf friends?"
"Not so loud!" Duane hissed, "Hehehe... It'll really piss off the Dwarves... just do it, okay?"
The Journey Ends... or maybe Continues?
And so the Great Journey of Two Months of Great Joinification'ing came to a close. Propitious Opportune led his fellowship of adventurers back to Portund, where they would launch their offensive against the armies of the Rhaja Lord, which would terminate in...
The Great Battle of Great Unificationess.
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