Hello everyone, this is Asclepius, with a wonderful story from Blaquerogue, entitled

“Warsworn”

This is a multi-voice production, and features the talents of

Blaquerogue, as Torniquet

Lord Baldrith, as Farmer Johnson and the Orc

Solstar, as Father Desmond

Gabriel Nightshadow, as Scout #1 and the mercenary

Sol Stormlin, as Jason and Billy

Asclepius as the narrator and the voice of God

Background music by Smartsound

Chapter 1 – Torniquet – a Twist of Faith

“My name is Torniquet – I was born a “Warsworn”. My father was one of the greatest of his time. We come in many forms, and I happen to be a “Warsworn Hospitlar”, a Cleric of the highest degree. The king would always call upon my Father to lead his battles for most were won with him in the lead. My mother passed away at a young age, so my father decided decided that it would be best for me, to be put into the local Monastery St. Agnes, since he was rarely home, and always out fighting the battles that raged around our kingdom during the Orc wars. I would be well taken care of by the monks and priests and educated in our religion, and the monastery would get a fine donation from time to time.

I’d love it when my father would come to visit he would teach me how to speak Orcish and how to speak Drow, those two languages in particular he insisted I learn. He also taught me the art of combat, and would tell me stories of the wars he’d been in! Tactic after tactic! Sometimes he would bring me special items from across the land. One day he brought me a war hammer and a golden broach with a rubies in them, telling me that there was something special about both (I wouldn’t find out until just recently how special the war hammer was!) but it was the finest craftsmanship I had ever seen. Definitely made by the high dwarves far to the North. They crafted the finest of wares there! Hence the name High Dwarves.

That very day Father Desmond tried to take it from me after my father left! I swung that hammer out of anger and shattered his leg! Needless to say, I spent a few days in the lower cells, I didn’t understand because I didn’t really hit him that hard with it? The next time my father came to town, of course the priests pulled me out of the cell a day before and did healing rituals on my arms and legs to make the bruises disappear that they had given me over the weeks prior, but they never tried to take that hammer again!

Money has a way of forgiving wrongdoings I suppose? They were happy to take the large donation from my father and forgive me. As I grew older I decided I wanted to become a cleric so I studied more often always making the highest scores on our tests, I’d pray to St. Cuthbert every night that my father would be spared in war. Upon one of his visits at age 16 he arrived with a small army of Warsworn and told me today would be the day I become “Warsworn Hospitlar” They took me to a secluded area far from the monastery where there was a small army of Warsworn already there waiting. They put me through many rigorous tests of strength, intelligence and faith; I was finally branded “Warsworn Hospitlar!” Unfortunately, that would be the last time I saw my father! for he he did not show up on our regular weekly visit, instead a “War Sworn” Messenger and Priest of the king showed up. That is when I heard the news my father would not be coming to visit me anymore, he had been slain in battle. Now an orphan, the door slammed shut, I was stripped of my robes and put into the servant quarters, destined to serve the priests for the rest of my life (or so I thought at the time).

Over my years of servitude I learned that money is what made the difference here, no matter how dirty or bloody it may have been. I watched the priests cast spells on people that didn’t need them,