Innauguration Day II

We now have half of our initial quartet, so let’s do the other half and get this thing underway…

A young lad named Hoko Goldma grows up in Lyonesse, the cultural and economic capitol of the territories collectively known as Wilusa. The son of a wealthy barrister, he tries and tries to apply himself to the study of the law but has simply not fallen in love with his father’s profession; he’s always yearned to see what lies beyond the next hill, and accompanying his father on infrequent trips to nearby city-states has not quenched his thirst for travel.

As an adolescent, Hoko felt that something else was calling to him, if only he could find out what. His questions found answers under the tutelage of one Jannick Idolf, an acquaintance and client of Hoko’s father and a practitioner of the arcane arts. Jannick saw in Hoko the raw abilities of a worker of magics, and took him under his wing as an apprentice. Hoko’s father rather than being horrified like so many other parents, was relieved to see his son applying himself to a body of work instead of languishing or sitting idle.

After passing a final series of tests, Jannick released Hoko into the world, along with a word or two of advice about his impulsive tendencies. Hoko’s father celebrated his son’s accomplishments, bestowed upon him a tidy sum as “startup” capital, and treated him to one last meal at the Yellow Queen, a slightly up-scale establishment in Lyonesse and a renowned nexus for entrepreneurial and outgoing personality types.

“My son,” he said, “what you need is to get yourself into the northern territory, where the mining industry is going through a boom. That’s where the real opportunities will lie – where fortunes may be made or lost. If you really want to succeed at this new calling, you’re going to have to stake your claim and take some risks… Off-hand, though, I’d say it’s too risky to make the long journey up there, alone. What you need right now is…” His eyes scanned the room, lingering for a moment on a portly man of serious demeanor with a cowl up over his shaven head, then brightened as two burly strangers walked through the door from the street outside. “Ah!... You need somebody like those fellows…”

Furok grew up the son of an impoverished potter and farmer, and only child on a barely-workable patch of land in the harsh environs of the Black Hills. The soil was thin at best, and the farmers in the area were always fighting a battle against the elements; Furok’s childhood, without a mother present, was difficult to say the least. Furok’s uncle Ulmo, however, was going to change all that…

A former soldier in the army of the city-state of Imai, Ulmo had returned to the Hills as a young man, determined to make a difference in the hard lives of his folk. He signed on with a group of outriders charged with patrolling the Black Hills area, under charter with the Duke of Imai, and spent the better part of the next fifteen years roaming through the countryside and protecting the mostly-unsuspecting villagers and farmers from darker forces.

Ulmo could see that Furok had the potential and gods-given gifts to be more than just an apprentice potter or beet farmer. He could also see the longing in the boy’s eyes whenever he looked at the horizon, or watched the sun set behind the dark Hills. Ulmo confronted his father and, in a heated exchange, goaded him into releasing Furok into his care. He and the lad walked away the next morning, and Furok has only been back once since then.

For the last three years, through rain and shine, summer and chilling winter, Ulmo has taught Furok the finer points of surviving and tracking in the wilderness, as the lad learns to ride and fish, hunt and fight. Together, they track brigands, apprehend poachers, and ambush goblins. The high-point comes when the pair finally corner and capture a notorious deserter and thief in the very north of the Hills. There is some hope that he was at the center of a string of recent disappearances from the roads in the region, but this theory quickly fades under interrogation.

What becomes clear, though, is that the thief is wanted for crimes back in Lyonesse, a week’s ride to the south. Ulmo and Furok restrain him and begin heading down out of the Hills, joining the main road on the plains, stopping in the city-state of Imai before heading downriver to Lyonesse. Once they reach the largest of the city-states, Ulmo finds out from the magistrate that their prisoner is wanted for murder in Tondota, Lyonesse’s rival city. According to the Wilusan League’s compact, extradition is automatic; Ulmo packs up for another ride of several days’ duration.

Before collecting his prisoner and remounting, he takes Furok aside, suggesting that he head back to the Black Hills; they’ve been gone a while, and Ulmo doesn’t want the outriders to be short-handed for too long. They enter the inn where they’ve been staying (the Yellow Queen, of course), and say their goodbyes. As Ulmo leaves, a large heavyset man with a cowl over his shaven head introduces himself…

“I am Archibald, of the Order of Pluto. I am in need of stout hearts and strong arms, to aid me in an errand of sacred importance. Might I tempt you into discussing potential terms of employment?”

At almost the same moment, a young elf and burly half-orc enter the inn, the shouts of the criers echoing in their ears; a barrister pushes his son towards the growing knot of individuals. They introduce themselves and inquire with Archibald about employment. Archibald explains that one of the duties of Pluto’s priesthood, as wardens of the dead and the underworld, is to explore and catalog any large subterranean complexes that are discovered. Some of these are too dangerous, some are inaccessible, but an initial attempt must be made.

Archibald explains that the complex he is bound to explore is located in the heart of the Black Hills, only a couple of days’ march from Furok’s old home. The others sign on, a price is determined, and gold coins change hands. The group of adventurers agrees to depart on the morrow…

And a legend is born!!!

(***Note***: credit for a great deal of this material must be given to other sites and bloggers, to say nothing of all the stuff that I've ripped off from common literature. I am chiefly indebted to the work of Matt Stater, over at Land of Nod; please check him out, and buy his stuff on Lulu.com...)