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Greetings friend, stay a while and I shall endeavor to tell you the tale of how my people came to be in the lands of the Gathering.
I am Balst Ovandsal, son of Frez Ovandzal the rightful king of Doinardria. My story starts four hundred years ago, give or take, in the court of my late grandfather King Keridon. He was crowned at the tender age of thirteen, when his father was slain on the field by an invading green skin horde. Ikaundorn the court mage taught the boy king how to rule with justice and kindness. He was however, an old man so he also spent much of his time training his apprentice, the orphaned son of Joshin who had been the captain of the guard and slain at the same time as my great grandfather, to take over from him when he was to old to continue his duties.
The kingdom flourished under the rule of King Keridon and as time passed he took a wife and had a son (Frez) on the day Frez was born Kalindorn died. The land mourned his passing, and Lisove his apprentice ascended to the rank of court mage. Again as time passed my father grew to manhood he also married and had children, my self and a year later my brother Ordan. But this was not the only change at court. Unbeknown to my grand father, Lisove was drawing more and more power to himself.
Shortly after I turned fourteen my grandfather decided to abdicate the throne to my father. The day of the ceremony rolled around and my brother and I were full of childish excitement. We dressed in our finest state garb with our ceremonial swords at our sides. We entered the throne room to the left side of our father with mother on his right. Grandfather, who sat his throne very majestically for one so old, was smiling down on us as we approached, as was Lisove who stood behind him.
The great hall was full to bursting point with lord's ladies and minor nobles; there were a great many diplomats from our neighboring kingdoms also in attendance. We stopped at the foot of the diocese and watched father ascend to participate in the ritual of coronation.
Grandfather arose from the throne and placed his crown upon it then stood to the left of the seat of kings. My father took his place to the right. Lisove held his hands out over the back of the throne, palms down and started to chant in the language of magic. The crown rose into the air and hovered there. He looked to my grandfather "Do you freely, of your own will, abdicate the throne Keridon?" asked Lisove. "It is so. It is time for a fresh hand to rule the land in my stead" he replied. With that, Lisove pointed at my father and grandfather, one with each hand, shouted two words and in that instant both my father and grandfather were taken from me as bolts of the purest blackness struck them each in the head. Cries of outrage and gasps of shock were heard around the great hall, but alas to few of them swords were drawn within moments.
The crown of my ancestors came to rest atop the head of the treacherous Lisove. With that he issued his first kingly dictate "my loyal subjects, bring me the heads of all those who would oppose me!"
My memory gets hazy here due to the adrenaline rush of battle. Ordan and I fought along side the few nobles loyal to my line in a desperate flight from the castle. Only Ordan and myself escaped along with three of our guards.
That night in the forest as we sat huddled around our tiny fire, we wept, mourning the loss of our family. It was then we vowed that take it a day or a hundred thousand years, we would avenge our family and extract ten fold the suffering inflicted upon us by the accursed Lisove.
Several days later, as we set camp in yet another clearing in the forest, the inevitable ambush came. One moment our guards were building the fire, the next they were sprawled on the ground sprouting feathered shafts from all angles. A ring of archers closed from the surrounding woods with arrows knocked and trained on Ordan and myself. They were followed by a man and a woman carrying swords, wearing rags and surrounded by a swarm of flies. The stench of them was unbearable. At first I did not recognize them, then the true horror struck home as I realised our parents had come to take us home for the last time.
We were stripped of our ruined finery, shacked at the neck and marched at sword point back towards the castle. Ordan was the first to notice that we were being watched and followed. As night fell the watchers in the woods made their move.
Two people (who I later found to be elves) both mounted, exploded onto the path as a spell shattered the chains that held Ordan and I together. The horsemen scattered our captors with their wild charge, scooped us up and bolted into the night. This group of noble elves gave us shelter through that harrowing time teaching us how to survive in such a savage world.
Time passed in a blur of fighting and hunting lessons then as I awoke on the day of my twentieth birthday, as quickly as they had come into our lives, the elves had gone. All that remained was a note saying, "remember your vow" That very day we set out towards the castle of lord Hugo, the most powerful of our neighboring kingdoms. The journey was long but well worth the effort, we were welcomed with much jubilation by lord Hugo. As it would seem, Dolinardria was not a big enough domain for Lisove. His undead forces were encroaching on the borders of all our neighbours.
As is the case when dealing with many kingdoms, trying to unite them to a common cause, old and petty problems tend to get in the way. For three horrendous years we struggled to bring all the lords of the surrounding lands together under one banner.
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In three years many good seasoned warriors died in border skirmishes against Lisove's ever growing hoard. Finally we realised there was no option but to send an army to destroy this cancer that threatened to engulf the entire land.
Six months later, our force of eleven thousand strong set out for Dornel (the capital of Dolinardria). Our progress was not hindered all the way to the city, either Lisove did not know we were coming, or he was just holding his troops in defense of the city and its castle.
The siege was not a long one. It is inanely difficult to starve out the dead, but we were in good spirits as our forces were decimating the defenders. On the night of the fifth day as we sat around the camp fires, we discussed how on the morrow we would take the castle, for the defenders could no longer hold out against a prolonged attack. Unbeknown to us however, Lisove had gathered to himself a group of apprentices to perform rituals. There were twenty of them apparently, and that night he decided to play the ace he had been holding up his sleeve. He called them to the ritual circle in the chantry that was set in the castle gardens. The unfortunate ritualists knew what to do but did not know the consequences. Lisove started to chant and they followed his lead channeling their magic energy to him. As the threads of magic inter wove, lisove released the spell he had prepared earlier and tore the very life force out of his apprentices, channeling it into the summoning also.
As the ritualists slumped to the floor a face appeared in the middle of the circle. Its skin was the colour of rotting frog skin with the texture of gravel, its eyes had no pupils and glowed a fowl jaundiced yellow. It had no nose, only two small holes where it should have been and warped horns and spikes spouted from all over its twisted visage.
"Why do you dare to summon me? mortal" it demanded. Lisove staggered under its baleful glare,"mighty lord of chaos, I would ask of thee a boon. I am a faithful servant of chaos on this plane and an army of law sits at my gates. It will destroy me and I beseech thee to aid me in their destruction". The demon's brows knitted together as it considered "you shall have my aid if you meet my terms! I want the souls of all the mortals I slay and your promise to dedicate ten souls to me for every year you live. If you fail to do so I shall take yours!" Lisove paused, contemplated then "I agree my lord...but what of the bodies of the dead?" "You may do with them as you like" and with that the demons visage faded from view. "Faithful servant of chaos, I think not" thought the demon to himself "his heart is too tainted by evil"
The first we knew that anything was amiss was as we sat there. The face of the demon appeared in the flames of all the camp fires. Shouts of horror and surprise rang out all over the encampment. A few brave souls drew swords and tried to bring down this fowl apparition but were rewarded only with burnt hands and arms for their trouble. The abomination just laughed. "I do not envy you that which you are about to endure but alas it must be so" and that was all he said before he destroyed us.
He inhaled deeply in his plane of existence and exhaled the raw stuff of chaos into ours. A billowing multicolored cloud spewed forth from the mouth of the demonic face in every fire in the camp. Many people died instantly as they were touched by the stuff, they were the lucky ones. Most of the army was warped into chaotic killing machines who lusted after blood. The army tore itself apart. Only those with the strongest minds managed to retain some of their own personalities and many of them were slain trying to escape. Thankfully Ordan and myself managed to get away, broken and warped by chaos but alive non the less.
That was three hundred and thirty odd years ago and Ordan and I still live. We ran for what seemed like forever, living only by becoming smugglers and hired muscle. We eventually, in 1096, came to the lane of the wolves and found out about the gathering.
At this time, we were hiring out as a mercenary archer group known as the Tirian Archers. We camped with the wolves because we knew no one else, though if truth were told, they tolerated us only because we could fight.
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We were doomed to be outsiders.
Until we met the Ghostwalkers. They did not fear or hate or mock us. We talked long into the night with them and decided to join them and aid them, as they agreed to aid us. When we left the wolves camp it just so happened that the moon blade went missing (tee hee hee), we got blamed for it's disappearance though there is no evidence to corroborate their claim.
My new friend Sir Duvall is an excellent addition to our group. He was a knight without a kingdom as I am a king without a kingdom. Though he does not like our methods, he thinks our cause is a noble one.
I have recently done something quite rash, I got married! She is one of the most stubborn, obnoxious, self-righteous, beautiful woman I have ever met. She is the Morigan of the Leoss Alpha (in the Harts).
Well the hour is late and I have bent your ear for too long. I am well down in my cups now and I must rise early, so long my friend.
BALST OVANDSAL
Added note by ser fozlan (General Tirian Resistance)
Balsts first wife has disapered his second wife has recently born his first (and last) child!
Balst died at the gathering 1101
R.I.P
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