Wulfkin and the Irregulars

Now Playing: MMORPG Fiction
Topic: Double Aught and Beyond


Earthwulf Blackfur

Always a cheerful Highland lad, but never quite one for discipline, he grew up learning the art of fighting. Though the oldest of his brothers and sisters, he was the runt of the extended family of cousins, so he had to use everything he could to gain an advantage while fighting. Still, he liked to use his head and humor for diplomacy before his fists. He eventually grew, choosing the mercenary path...

Wulfling Blackfur
A giant of a boy, and the youngest of ten, Earth's brother had a penchant for ... feelings. Gentle, quiet, he always looked after kith, kin, and creature alike. Due to the expanse of his family, he reluctantly learned to bash heads a bit, eventually using his natural skills to become a Cleric of the Goddess.

Darkwulf
Cousin to the Blackfur brothers, and Avalonian by birth, he is the most educated of the bunch. His name was once Trolfriend, he saw his mother eaten by trolls when he was a boy of three. He took his original name for vengeance; once that was served, he found his true name.

Dragonwulf Kindheart
The small and wiry Briton cousin, he claims to be but a simple merchant. Yet, he never seems to sell anything... he will give all that he has to those to whom he is loyal, as well as giving his all to those who cross him. His long memory is hidden b his loud voice and jovial smile.





Aye, I do knoe tha' tis in th' rules tha' we shoul' na cross team wi' th' infidels o' other lands. But (an' I be playin' Devil's advocate here... I dinna e'en knoe me own min' wi this), be not one tactic o' war ter team wi' a hated enemy ter overcome another one? There be many instances o' this throughout history... "Keep yer friends close an yer enemies closer," as it were.

An', aye, there must be standards we must adhere to (th' rules instated by th' Mythic Gods). But, should we not also see the valid tactics instituted by such alliances? I knoe tha' fer some o' ye I be blaspheming, yet I do think tha' - while na' necessar'ly resorting to such deeds - we shoul study, learn from, and counter them strategically.

As I ken it, tis in th' nature o' wars... and o' the game. Twould make an especially compelling storyline, as well...

Jes a thought... now, I'll jes expose me neck a bit fer th' axe tha' I knoe shall fall...





Cousins, they be, walking into town, three laughing, jostlin' an' carryin' on, the fourth... tall an' a wee bit aloof.

Earthwulf is th' obvious leader, the eldest - and a Highlander. He follows th' mercenary path, yet his heart is anything but mercenary...

Wulfling is his younger brother, a Cleric for th' Goddess, kind, gentle, and concerned wi' th' ills o' others...

Dragonwulf, the Briton, son of the brothers' aunt, has a mischievous glint in his eye, an' will swear tha' he is but a mere merchant, though he looks as if he could slip in anywhere...

Finally, a step behind, Trolfriend, a beginning master of the Dark Arts, and Avalonian by nature. He wishes revenge on the murderous beasts from the north tha' slaughtered his family, an took his name to lull them into a sense of... complacency. He will destroy every last one of the trolls and there ilk... he swears it.

They look around, ordering... have they finally found a home? Have they foun' a people willing to ally themselves wi' th' likes o' them? Only time will tell...

The cousins confer for a moment after reading what this illustrious band o' merry travelers be about. Earthwulf steps forward, throwing his cloak on th' rack an' some coin on ther bar an shouts "Barkeep, ale fer all! We ha' had a weary road an' ha' weary tales, bu' mebbe we coul' sit as' talk a wee bit wi' ther locals..."

"And mayhap learn some proper form of speech," grumbles Trolfriend, darkly.






"Och, watch where yer goin' laddie, yer nearly bowled me o'er," said the tall Hilan'er, scar running vertically from his temple to his jaw. "Calm down, why don' yer... come back inside wi me, an we c'n get ye some drink, hot food an a nice bed... well, a bed a' any rate. Me name is Wulfling Blackfur, an ye c'n trust me an any o' th' others here wi' yer life."

Wulfling offered his hand to the young one, fallen as he had into the mud in his collision with the gentle giant. His was a hand that had seen gentle healing powers flow through it often. He had a look of understanding and calmness, one that radiated trust.


From the back corner of the room, at a table with no others all three looking nothing alike, yet oddly similar, a lanky Avalonian stood. A hush fell, for none in the tavern had much truck with this fellow of unfortunate naming, this student of the Dark Arts; they liked his cousins well enough, one of whom was the cleric Hilan'er who... found ... Elix outside of the tavern a few minutes earlier.

"Ah, my mute friend, I do know your pain," he said, coldness flashing from the depths of his voice as Trolfriend stepped forward. "Mine own Mother was eaten by the bastard Trolls before mine eyes; I was three years old at the time , hidden in a cupboard by her before they broke down the door. She told me that I was not to come out, or make a noise for any reason... any reason at all. She also told me that my new name was Trolfriend, and I would use that name to deceive these foul beasts one day." He stopped, taking a breath, seeming to suck the very spirit out of the air, leaving everyone a bit... more frozen.

"Gi' on wi' it ye bloody git!" grumbled Macheath from behind his ale tankard.

"As you desire... My Lord. I watched as unspeakable horrors were visited upon my mother for three days. She was a stout woman of Highland stock; she even managed to kill two of the beasts before the other three subdued her... not that they minded, for the two dead served as meals for the three living. When they finally left, I crawled out, cradling what was left of her mutilated head in my lap, waiting for my father to return from the frontier. When he did, later on the fourth day, I was no longer a boy of three... I was a man, and I would see her avenged. Father, a master Theurgist, was grief stricken, and let me be taken in by his Cabalist brother while he hunted the trolls. After I told him their names, he was off. I have not seen him since."

Trolfriend paused, taking a draught of ale from the barmaid. "The day mine mother did speak of, the day when I would use my name to my advantage has come and gone. I am now in search of my new name and of the fate of my father. But that is neither here nor there; perhaps we, Brothers in Pain, might work together to find your... Mark."

Sitting back down at his cousins' table with his tankard, Trolfriend stared into the amber liquid as if it held the secrets of the universe... indeed, there were those that professed that it did. As the revelry continued around the table, the small band of cousins and brothers pulled slightly closer together, as if to protect their kin.

"Och, ye skinny lad - do yer think that were wise?" Dragonwulf asked this in a tone that implied both sympathy and incredulity. "I mean, gettin' up like tha' in fron' o' God an ther Irregulars an' talkin' o' yer Ma an Da? Na' ter mention th' incident wi' those bloody buggers..." He spoke in a hushed tone, so as not to draw attention to his criticism of his cousin.

Wulfling place one of his massively gentle healing hands on Dragonwulf's shoulder. He did not say anything, just looked at his cousin with his deep, bicolored eyes. He was the quiet one of the group, speaking only as much as necessary. He brother, however, was not beholdin' to any such dogma.

"Dragon, ye righteous bastid son of an elfwhore, do ye na' see how painful this is fer him? Do ye na' see tha' he is hurtin' enough fer all o' us?!?" Earthwulf sighed, exasperated at his shadow-like cousins' thickheadedness. "Troll, what is it ye be needin'? Can we help ye in some way?" All three looked expectantly at the pale Cabalist.

"As I stated, family mine, I have work to do. I had a vision last night, a vision that was more than a mere dream. I was struggling in my sleep, and when I awoke, I saw an emerald golem standing before me. I was drained of power, and I knew I had brought this creature forth, e'en though I could not possibly do so, for such magik still lies beyond me. This golem was unlike any other I had seen or heard of," the student of Dark Arts paused for a long drink, then continued staring into his cracked earthenware mug.

Minutes passed before he spoke again. "Aye, this golem was different. It had the face of my father, and it spoke to me. It told me to seek out my Father's fate, and when I found it, I would find my true name. It then said that when it returned to the earth, there would be a gift for me to take, one that would be important in my search. Then is crumbled, as do all golems, eventually, and in its dust I found these."

He reached into he pouch, pulling out two emeralds, one the size os a gold coin, the other the size of a copper. They glowed faintly, s glow that emanated from within the stones. The larger was cool to the touch, while the smaller was warm.

As he handed the gems to his cousins to inspect, he asked "Will you aid me in my quest?"

Over a month had passed, and the cousins found themselves huddled together under a small outcropping of rock, high in the mountains. Between the freezing rain and their fear of discovery, no fire was present. One of the horses had already been lost to a wandering dragon, while another was injured when the thin trail gave way beneath her.

Thunder cracked overhead, raging with Thor's fury here on the borderland. It was as if the evil northern gods could sense their presence, and were eager to alert their minions to the presence of the intruders.

"The old woman told you it was up here, Wulfling, the secret of the stones. Still, cousins, I cannot see any end to this misery, nor enlightenment about the stones. If ye wish it, we may turn back," Trolfriend pulled his cloak tighter around his body.

The woman had appeared as if from nowhere two days after they left Glastonbury, riding north to the lands of Midgard. Stopping to rest on the edge of a forest - a forest that was closer to being a bog, in truth - Wulfling had stepped off into the twilight to give thanks once again to the Goddess, when a crone appeared before him.

"Many pardons, Mother," Wulfling began, his deep, giant voice resounding with kindness and gentle ease. "I dinna see ye there. Might I ask who ye be? An apparition? A spirit? A voice o' th' dead? Or be ye The Goddess hersel'?" As these words passed his lips, he gasped, for if it were true... he fell to his knees.

"Up, Boy!" She tilted her grizzled head back, cackling furiously. " I have news for ye! I be ..."





I grew up playing Role Playing Games (RPGs) in the vein of Dungeons and Dragons, mostly stuff from a small company called Chaosium, as my best friend's father was the founder. Runequest, Call of Cthulu and, my favorite, Pendragon - based on Arthurian legend - were the norm. In college, I stopped playing, and never really looked back. By the time MMORPG's hit the internet (for those that don't know,it's Massively Multiplayer Online RPG), I was living in Africa with no running water or electricity, much less a computer. When I got back, I began teaching, and never really got into online gaming... until I heard about the Dark Age of Camelot. It seemed like it was my old fave Pendragon, but online... I got it and was hooked. This is a story based on the characters I'd created and the "guild" I got involved in (a group of like minded people who play online games...). I'm still with 'em to this day, though I don't have much time for games.... Yes, I am a geek. earthwulf