Kilntongue Tome

[Vyris]

Wallen sits down at the campfire outside Hlint, eating a bit of corn bread, and rummaging through his packs. Despondant when he left Shoufal, he had never really given much thought to the things he had grabbed the day of his mothers burial, untill now.

Wallen pauses for a moment, his hand having found something near the bottom of the pack that gives him a cause to hesitate. Finally, reluctantly, he removes a large and thick book from the pack. For several minutes he considers the yellowed pages near the beginning, the signs of rebinding of the book, the different types of paper used. Curiously flipping through the book he finds several blank pages at the end, and turning back to the last text he recognises his fathers hand on the fresher, whitest sheets, back further and Wallen discovers a tightly written script, and his granfathers name, further still, and yet another script, great granfather, and another, another before that...

Flipping to the end again Wallen eyes his quill and small jar of ink, considering beginning his own chapter in this history of the men of Kilntongue, but instead he sits, considering for a long while in the flickering light of the campfire, then turns the book right side up, opening the cover and hesitating, reading the title more than once, letting it sink in. Then with a slight smile he opens the book and begins to read the tale. One phrase escapes his lips as he begins to read...

Clan Kilntoungue, in defense of Shoufal and Dorand

Herein lies the histories of the first born male members of the clan Kilntongue, as one falls another shall take up the hammer, tool of our patron Dorand, to worhip with our work, and in defense our mountain home Shoufal we shall pledge our skill. In all things may Dorand permit you mastery. Blessed be we, the wall of flesh and bone, None shall pass while blood does beat within our hearts.

[Vyris]

**Wallen sits at a table at the Wild Surge Inn, a cooling bowl of the cooks special fare sitting to his right, a frothing mug of ale slowly warming in front of him. He takes a moment to retrieve the battered family tome from his pack, and copy a few lines from near the beginning to some new pages he had added to the worn binding earlier that day.**

When facing multiple foes and you are recieving their advance, hold your weapon high, so that your hilt is at or near the same height as your ear, with the damaging end of your weapon oriented neither right, nor left, but erect and slightly backward. This will allow you to fend a blow quickly to your midsection, or to strike a telling blow as the creature invades your reach. Your shield should be held out from your body, at near shoulder height. The smaller your shield, the higher you should hold it. If you hold a doorway or passage you should fill as much of this area with yourself as possible, to inhibit your foes from gaining a flank or rear attack.


I found this passage in my family tome today, and attempted the manuever against the denizens of the Hlint crypts on several occasions as I attempted to retrieve a darksoul essence for the undertaker. I was suprised at how easily I managed to ward the skeletons blows in this manner, and find opportunities to strike back with my hammer. *Wallen leans back gingerly against the back rest of the chair* Although I must work on not allowing myself to get flanked...

[Vyris]

**Wallen enters the Wild Surge, bloody and battered but grinning madly. He strides to the barkeep and orders a tankard of ale, and another tankard of mead, then goes to sit at the table he's come accostomed to sitting and reading the early evening away in. Before long the two drink and the dinner are gone, and Wallen leans back with the familiar book perched in his lap, sipping a frothy mug of beer, reading intently for a while before writing**

It is an irrefutable fact that there are hidden reserves of will, strength and stamina within a trained warrior. Some, most even, never learn to call apon these reserves except in the most dire circumstances and more often than not if your courage is born of desperation you are already lost. The key is training your mind to key these reserves at will.

Some call on divine might, filling themselves with righteous thoughts, others rally thier own reserves by calling, taunting and cajoling their foes and allies alike, the most extreme of these sometimes fly into a berserking rage, and while devestating to their foes, often the bloodlust overcomes them and they place their allies in danger of catching their axes as well. Often the most reliable trigger to tap into these reserves is to center your thoughts on home, loved onces, hearth and home, and know that for your foe to defeat you unleashes their evil will on that which you hold dear.

I spent much time today, holding the form I had read about several days ago, in fact, I have been practicing that, and other things I had read her in this tome for the last several days, and I have seen some improvement. Dissapointment still sought to sap my resolve though, no matter how I strive to perfect the form I always seem to be flagging physically in a very short time, distracted by minor wounds to the point I lose my concentration. My burned marks hold the rush of blood reveal my shame for all to see when this happens, I have never been weak, but I feel this is the hardest thing to do.

Then today I came apon this passage I've copied above, and spent several hours seeking to tune my mind to my body. It was durring these meditations that of course I was interrupted. Fist was a man who claimed Lucinda as his patron, Father Logan his name was, and he helped me greatly to complete several tasks I'd promised done earlier, another was a large man, a paladin of Toran named Klaugrequene Dragonbane... what a mouthfull of a name! But the one who leaps to my mind, and has been a conduit for the elation I feel now is a strange fellow named Ozymandius.

We spoke only briefly, but I must have made some impression on the fellow, for as he left he spent some time showering me in magics that augmented my phtsical traits considerably, as well as opened my mind, it was then that things became much clearer to me, and with thanks to him and great haste I did make my way to the nearby goblin infested caves and easily bested those that were foolish enough to accost me along the way. All the way down I went, to their king, who I slew for master Ronus as he requested.

The magical augmentation allowed me to see the flaws in my form, and feel the hidden reserves within me. I could not draw on them, but I know they are there, and with practice I am sure to master both my mind and body.

[Vyris]

**Wallen stands alone in the Sielwood forest, the crackling of a nearby campfire and the creaking and clanking of his armor the only sounds but for the faint returning echoes of battle, As wallen surveys the field of battle and his fallen foes a snippet of last nights reading slips through his mind.**


One must always remember not to lose your position in battle, some warriors accomplish this with footwork, or agility, but that is not the way we follow, allowing the foe to move us where it wishes, NO! We are the wall of bone, blood and blade, and where we choose is where we shall stay. One must become accomplished with the shield, and it's use, it is not just a barrier for one to hid behind, but a mobile extension of your prowess! The shield MUST be used offensively, not to batter your opponant, but to deflect incoming blows to an area that is most advantageous to the defender, opening holes in your foes defenses. Deflecting a blow down will drop a foes shoulders, bringing it's head low and opening an advantageous strike. Blocking a blow and directing it over your own head will reward you with opportunityies to attack the legs, and an immobile enemy is easy prey.

Keep the shield moving, and if you must block your flank never leave yourself unprotected, spin with the shield, and if your weapon has not met a blow and deflected it as your shield has, follow through with the force of your turn and use that momentum to deliver a telling blow to the coward who would attack you from behind!


Wallen, nodding to himself at the thought looks around him at the circle of dead Gnolls. They had come at him from all sides, but remembering the lessons learned thus far he had spun and hammered his way back and forth. His shield and hammer never still as he became a more and more confident with each clanging blow he deflected, untill all that was left was himself, the fire, and the faint echo of his last blow coming back to him from the tree.

Nodding, satasfied Wallen removes his gauntlets and approaches the Gnolls fire, removing the roasted rabbit from the spit, and enjoying the cooked meat, spoils of the battle.

[Vyris]

**Wallen sits under a small outcropping or rock between Fort Llast and Hlint, his small campfire struggling to keep the chill and damp of the night air away while while he arranges his pack and bedroll in the small shelter, finaly settling in with his canteen, some dried meat, his tome and a quill.**

When joined in close combat with allies arrayed around you a true place of honor is presented for those who wish to take up the roll. It is not in rushing to battle that you will recieve this glory, but by holding fast. Place your feet firmly, feel the stone beneath your feet as it reaches up to your bones! Find the center of yourself and stretch yourself down to meet the stone bones of the ground below you. In this manner, you, and others who feel the call will hold fast, allowing safe retreat for allies, and marking for all to see where the line of defense is. Hold fast and set your will, draw your strength and resolve from the stone bones of Layonara and you shall be a wall that your foes will not easily tumble!

Yesterday I felt the bones of the earth call to me, perhaps if I had known what I was hearing then I might have made more sense of it! As it is I was hard pressed and on the defensive against three rotting corpses as I traveled through the broken forest on my way to Fort Hope with my boon companions Garnet Stonesmithy and Dweten Azak. Oh how we fought! HA! A grand battle it was, Both Dweten and Garnet had to withdraw to quaff a couple healing elixers, and I held three of the beasts!

I was unable to do much more but fend their blows, but I felt the ground holding me, the brutes were unable to move me and soon my companions returned to the fray and together we dispatched the rotting foes!

[Vyris]

**Wallen seeks shelter in the Greypeaks from the ever-present rain, in the valley below he can hear several ogres calling and shouting to one another. The gruff bellows echoing in the foggy mountain pass, muffled by the spattering randrops and occasional thunder. Finally, finding a stand of close shrubs and craling under their tightly overlapping leaves Wallen finds a reletively dry spot, and flipping his cape up over his head crates a small shelter in his lap where he cradles his precious tome. In the dark he opens it, counting pages with his thick fingers to a spot he remembers and then he strokes the enchanted ring given to him by Father Logan, inneptly calling forth the light from within. There in the dim light under his cloak he begins to read.

A warrior in defense of his home or loved ones is a fearsome sight, if your failure means the loss of everything you know you WILL be inspired to new heights. At times like this a staunch defender must not forget to use his weapon. This may sound like nonsense, but using all the tools in your arsenal to their full potential requires clear though. A frightened warrior will think only of the blade of his sword, the egde of the axe, the face of the hammer. A clear, calm and disciplined warrior will seek out, and see the opportunities that arise in battle to slam a foe with the pommel of the sword, to foul an opponants blde within the hasp and hooking blade of a war axe, or to hook an oppoants shield with a hammer blow, creating an opportunity for another attack.

Ah! the lessons learned through experience cannot be ignored, I thank Vorax daily for my fortune to have grabbed my fathers tome as I left, and Dorand with every swing of my well made hammer! Indeed, it has been my fortune that has brought me this far, but as I sit at times like this and have a moment to assess myself I can see my skill building, and the lessons learned from my forefathers through their words have guided me well in my efforts.

Today as I explored the depths of the Red Light caverns I found myself swarmed by foul goblins. Remembering last nights reading I stood firm and felt for the sound of the stone calling me, keeping my wits, and looking for the opportunities to attack. I found I was able to fell a foe, and plot another blow to another attacker, carrying off the first. It bodes well for my chances of survival here, to be able to asses a situation and move from one combatant to another easily.

[Vyris]

**Wallen sits at a table in the Fort Hope Inn, blankly staring at the drunks and revellers that seem to be frequent customers, though his gaze strays from patron to patron, his minds eye is living in the events of the past day, analyzing events with the fresh perspective of aching wounds and bruised flesh as a throbbing background**

When facing beastly opponants, you MUST be prepared for the speed and power of the creatures you may face. Among the most dangerous are the great cats, Lions, Tigers and the deadly Malar, all will strike you with blinding speed and are deceptively strong. Dire animals of any sort must also be guarded against, as they may resemple the lesser of their race, but their ferocity is unquestionable, Dire bears especially are fearsome, their claws, powered by the massive shoulders can rend through even the thickest armor, and the massive jaws of the beast can engulph a warriors head entirely! BEWARE

*Wallen nods to himself and begins writing* I should have read that passage with more attention before venturing out today, I was caught unaware shortly after a battle with some Ogres in the Krandor outskirts by a pride of lions. Thee of the beasts attacked me at once and I was very hard pressed to fend the claws and bites while a strove to find my center and steel myself with the strength of the stone bones of Layonara.

With a large tree to my back and feeling the strength well up from beneath my feet I managed to land a telling blow against one of the creatures, but the other two both landed heavy blows of their own. It was at that moment a man in a green hooded cloak and brown leathers happened along the battle.

With a word he captured one lions attention and bid it run away, I was still hard pressed and bleeding badly, fending the attacks of the remaining tiger, but soon the fellow turned his attention back to the remaining lion and sent it away as well. I was gratefull for his help, but as I slumped against the tree to regain my strength the man simple walked away. I owe him many thanks, but I may never know his name.

[Vyris]

**Wallen sits with Dweten and Thrain on the outskirts of Fort Velensk, warming his boots by the campfire Dweten started, reading his family tome. His companions, occupied with splitting up the topaz gems they had recently mined and planning a large ale purchase with their share of the coin leave Wallen to his reading for a few moments, lost in their own good natured jibing.**

A call to defend ones hearth and home is a call of love for ones own kin, deep and true.
A call to protect the person or estate of ones Patron, Lord or King is a call of honor and duty.
A call to protect the lands of an ally in a mutual struggle is a call of valor.
A call to protect ones boon companions is a call of brotherhood.


A Call of Brotherhood... Aye *looking up at Dweten and Thrain* That is near what I have found since leaving my home in Shoufal. My family, gone, and my childhood home freely sold, the profits being split amongst the widows of that last battle have left me with no reason to return to the place of my birth. There is no regret in those words, much pain lingers inside the walls of Shoufal for me to rediscover one day when I have found my way, but not now.

Perhaps I shall take a journey to the realm of the Ulgrids, or even seek out the forsaken clan Stonebrow, there perhaps to find a patron of my own that I may hone my skills in service to kin of another clan. A king may not yet see the potential I feel within me, but there are opportunities I am sure for one such as I to make a name for myself, one my father will be proud to sing of in the halls of Dorand while his hammer blows ring on his lords anvil, bending metal for his divine lord eternaly. Perhaps one day I will join him there and we shall sing my song together.