Coburg & the Water Lilly

The Undying War is coming to Kickstarter very soon! We keep talking about Coburg the Undying, for indeed, it is his war. But who is Coburg the Undying. In short, he is a petty man, cruel, malicious, evil; one who takes comfort in spite and the suffering of others, great or small. He is governed by a mercurial nature and longs for power...

And here is his story....

~ Coburg and the Water Lilly ~

If it seems to you that I spend my life frugally, it is because my days on earth are all the coin that I have to give.” --Coburg to the Baron Kul after a jest was made at his reticence in spending his coin on a new tabard. 

Unklar, the Horned God, came to Aihrde upon a foul wind. The kingdoms of men fell beneath his cloven hoof, and the shadow of his horn darkened the days of all. To lord over them, he built the mighty tower of Aufstrag in the ruins of the sprawling city of Al Liosh. From there he took up the mantle of the god-emperor and claimed lordship over all the world. His rule, however, was incomplete, and there were those who rose against him, men and women of extraordinary power and cunning. Some of the first to rise against his rule were the men of Al Liosh.

Before his coming, that fair city was held to be the gem of all the world. With wide avenues, high walls, domes of marble, and towers of white stone, Al Liosh was the center of the realm of the Aenochians and from her halls they ruled nearly the entire world. In its ruin at Unklar’s conquest, the people were slain, enslaved, or driven into the wilds. Few could stand against him, and when he pulled the towers of Aufstrag up from the ruins of Al Liosh, they were dismayed and broken. He built the Ahargon Den, the Mouth of Darkness, in the walls of Aufstrag and closed that horrid gate with sorcery and the craftsmanship of the dwarves bound to his service.

But not all were dismayed. The Baron Kul ruled a vast swath of land to the north, along the foothills of the Grundliche Mountains. His people were fierce and filled with pride and in this they followed their master. Upon Unklar’s taking up the emperor’s throne, Kul rose in a towering rage. “Never have the Aenochians bowed before any god,” which was only partially true, “Nor shall I ever.”

Many of his men rose about him and shouted, brandishing weapons and shields.

“Our cousins in Al Liosh are lost, but they can be avenged. To arms! To arms! Gather upon the Field of Heathers three days hence. Bring all that may bear arms, and gird yourselves for we go to Aufstrag to knock down her doors and pull this horned beast from his den! And once done we’ll brand him, bind him, and cast him out!”

The tumult shook the rafters on high as the lords of Kul’s people shouted and stomped and called for war in the south.

The muster was rapid and many thousands gathered upon the Field of Heathers, for they came from far and wide. There were knights encased in armor astride massive horses similarly girded in metal and chain. The men at arms gathered, girded in scale mail with long, cruel pole arms, axes, and maces. Mercenaries came, seeing the hope of plunder, and others besides.

As he looked out over his army, it seemed a mighty thing. One of his squires, young Coburg (the son of a lesser knight whose service had earned Kul’s love) helped him onto his mountain of a steed. “Well, Coburg, what do you think of this? Are you ready to ride to hell and brand a god?”

“I’ll follow you to hell, Baron, if it is your wish.” His speech was clear but his heart was not in the coming fight.

Kul sensed it. “I wonder, Coburg, why you chose this life.” Kul was a kind man when not upon the battlefield, and he would have dismissed Coburg long ago but for the love he bore his father.

“It is my fate, Lord, to be bound to you in this covenant. My father wished it . . . as did I.”

Kul smiled a grim smile, without mirth. “Indeed.” He looked upon Coburg. “Do not fear the dark, squire. The Val Earhakun are but misguided souls and have no power over us that we do not allow.” In this he spoke as an Aenochian, for it was taught to that people long ago that the gods were not their masters, but rather creatures little different from men, only more clever. But it was a trick played upon them by Narrheit, one of the greatest of the Val Eahrakun, and in this he caused much suffering in the world.

“You speak the wisdom of our forefathers, my lord.” Coburg pulled himself up on his own horse and busied himself with his gear, not looking at the Baron.

Kul looked upon the squire for a moment and saw that he would live through this, though not with honor, for the fear had already taken hold in the young man’s chest, and it would shield him like no armor ever could. “Very well Coburg. Very well.”

Turning his steed he called for his men to follow, and they rode south upon a dry, thundering wind.

A week more brought them into the once fertile valleys of Al Liosh, the Land of Lakes. The region had once been filled with beauty. The wealth of the Aenochians knew no definition, and her lords and ladies created villas with flowering gardens, the common people towns of white stone, and the emperor roads between them all. Copses of trees offered the traveler shelter from rain and sun, and taverns, well kept, offered drink, food and the comforting embrace of a feathered pillow to rest. Green meadows bordered fields of grain and orchards promised succulent fruits for markets far and near.

Now, the once splendid city lay in ruin. Unklar’s rule had stained the minds of the Aenochians, and they fought one another in the green fields, laying waste to all. The Horned God burned the land and pulled up his high tower of Aufstrag (a massive affair) where the rivers met.

Kul rode through the blackened chaos for a long day before he came near to the gates of Aufstrag. A host of the enemies stood between him and the gates. Their armored ranks were deep and extended for over a mile to the left and right of the gate. They had no horses or chariots, only men and other servants of the dark.

“You have always been quick with numbers, Coburg. What do you count their numbers?” A rage began to grow in the baron.

“Ten times our own in the fields just yonder. More, I see hidden beyond the open gate.”

“Ten times eh? That is all a god can give?” His rage colored his face, and his muscles tightened, passing the rage to his steed who stomped his iron-shod hoof on the paved stone.

“It would seem so, my lord.”

Turning his horse, the baron called for his men to break into a wide wedge, the heavy cavalry in the fore with him at the head. The infantry he ranged in a line behind them with orders to strike the enemy once the cavalry broke through.

“This day is ours, men! No god can stop us! No god’s servants! Only the trembling hand! So, hark on to me! Follow my road of ruin to the pits of hell!”

With that he set spur to horse and both launched like a storm suddenly freed. His steed took the wrath of Kul and tore the ground with flames of his passage. All marveled at the mountain of muscle, iron, bone, and steel that unearthed the cobbled way and bore down upon the host of Aufstrag.

Kul’s men followed with shouts of joy and cheers of wild abandon. “To wreck! To ruin! To Hell’s ruin we ride!”

The thunder of their charge broke the lines of Aufstrag asunder and scattered the soldiery like chaff in the wind, such that when the footman followed there was nothing to fight, only the wounded to slay. This they did without mercy.

So great was the charge that the guards of the gate slammed the doors shut and the Ahargon Den was closed to Kul’s host. But this did not dismay him, for he possessed a horn given to him by his wife which was laced with the power of her marks; into its coils were bound words of opening. He sounded the horn as he rode up to the door, and the gates fell wide. Entering Aufstrag upon a furious wind, the baron and his knights overcame all defenders in the lower halls. The slaughter washed the hall in blood, and the morass of mutilated flesh became a pool that those who followed struggled to pass through.

In rapid succession the lower halls of the First Ward fell to him, the Bone Pit, the Horned God’s Acre, the Gallery of Souls, and the Red Fort all. For a time, they were checked in the Hall of Chains where a great host of devils fell upon them, but Kul and his knights drove into them as if possessed of a madness. There, he uncased his axe, Muthein, or Kill Joy in the tongues of men. It bore a red light and burned through flesh and bone as if blood alone could slake its thirst. Kul’s horse fell here and many men more, but the tide of their wrath had not yet reached its apogee.

They moved on through the Torture Gardens and the Pit of Woe (though that chamber was not filled with the horrors it came to possess after ages) and through more levels and on to the Second Ward. Here none stood in his way, and his grim troops took a brief rest and picked up the battle again, passing high to the First Ward above. There in the Mansion of Thralls another great battle was fought, and many of Kul’s people fell, consumed by the fires of Aufstrag. The command split and many became lost and fled through the labyrinth of Aufstrag. Kul was undaunted, however.

The baron’s power was such that he carried the battle even to the throne room, hewing down his foes with Kill Joy or crushing their skulls with the base of the horn. Here, Baron Kul faced the Horned God at last and sought to overcome him. He tossed aside the horn and pulled out a long chain of twisted iron. “Here now, dog of the Void. Mote. Darkness. Come to me and I’ll bind you easily.”

Unklar, not yet waxed in his power, drew back before the towering rage of the baron, for he saw in the Aenochian a power that he did not understand. These were the words of Narrheit, spoken so long ago, convincing the Aenochians of their invincibility, and the words were unknown to Unklar, though laced with a power that matched his own. He paused, in doubt.

That day Kul’s words proved more true than he could have imagined, for it was not the powers of a god that stopped him, but the trembling hand of betrayal. Coburg, seeing the baron’s guard scattered and much engaged, saw too that the baron stood alone before Unklar. The horned beast was more than a “mote”, but towered over all. Coburg saw the echo of his power and knew fear. Slipping behind Kul, he pulled his long knife with a trembling hand. With singular thrust he drove his dagger into the baron’s back, between his ribs and into his heart.

The baron spun, smashing his assailant across the jaw with such force that it sent Coburg sprawling on the floor, shattering the bones of his cheek, so that ever after his face seemed crooked. Kul staggered forward, his face awash in stunned amazement, his heart rent and torn, the gore of his power coursing down his back and into his innards. “Blackheart! Spawn of a father once proud!” Staggering, he coughed up his life’s last moments. “I curse you, Coburg. I curse you. May you live forever.” He tumbled to the floor.
   Thus ended the Baron Kul ut Marien, last of his line and most noble of men.

Kul’s men staggered from the blow, as if the power of the battle was suddenly taken from them, and they were overwhelmed, beaten into submission, scattered, or done to death. Only a handful ever came from Aufstrag to spread word of the deeds of their company and their lord and the perfidy of Coburg, who in later ages men called the Undying.

Coburg took up the horn of his master and brought it before Unklar, who came from the shadows of his own fear. The squire lay prostrate upon the floor and pleaded with the dark god for his life. Unklar saw into Coburg and saw in him a power of the Val Eahrakun, though he knew not its source. Indeed, Coburg bore the curse of Kul, and it carried the echo of the words of Narrheit. Thus, Coburg was denied a place upon the Arc of Time and any of its many endings.

“I would aid you master in whatever guise you deem fitting.”

“Through betrayal and murder you have come to my feet. What would I do with one such as thee?”

“You alone know the power of men.”

In this Unkar saw a hidden wisdom. Or, perhaps, Coburg riddled better than the Horned God knew, for in this small man who betrayed his own master, he saw a tool sharp enough to use against his own people. “Indeed,” Unklar pressed his hoof into the man’s back and pushed the air from him. Then, he vomited the filth of his own lungs upon Coburg and the squire breathed the wealth of Unklar’s breath. A power passed into him, one of confusion and seeming greatness, so that few could ever after look upon Coburg without fear. Though, in his heart, Coburg knew that he was weak. “I shall grant you reward for your service, worm. Crawl from me, blackheart,” for he took up the name Kul had given him and that Coburg hated, “And come when I bid.”

The baron’s attack had revealed a weakness in Aufstrag. So, the Horned God set about making the citadel impregnable. Two great rivers flanked his tower of Aufstrag and these he diverted, allowing their courses to spill into the lands between. He laid waste to all the land for many miles and churned it so that the water covered its ruin. This filled all the lands with fetid swamps, later called the Grausumland. It consisted of league upon league of a sodden morass, fog covered, and populated by monsters of darkness. Crossing the swamps proved an almost impossible task, so he ordered one bridge built, a causeway. It was named by men the Wasting Way, for those who cross it, do so with the grim towers of Aufstrag ever in their vision, and the evil weight of that place wastes lesser men so that they perish. He created a wall around the gates and a high portico to guard it.

Unklar made Coburg a lieutenant in his service and he set him to rule over the gates of Aufstrag. There the one-time squire sat, watching all who came and went from the fortress. And those who passed through the gate knew he bore the blessing of Unklar, and they feared him and rarely offered him challenge.

Coburg settled into his role with a relish, and his cruelty was very soon revealed as he tormented all who passed beneath the gate. Some he murdered and set upon his table. Others he bound to his churlish desires; others still, he simply drove from the gates. In time, all hated him, though all feared him. Despite this, his power grew more than ever he imagined it could, both in reputation and in skill with the blade and sorcery.

It was there, long after the Winter Dark had ushered in a new age to the world that Coburg was reminded that he was once a man and possessed of a man’s desires. For there, beneath the gate, he encountered the Lady of Garun. She was bound in chains, her mouth capped by a plate of gold, tribute from some eastern tribe. Coburg saw her as she crossed the threshold of Aufstrag. He was amazed at both her beauty and her demeanor, for she stood erect in her chains, impervious to all about her. She looked forward with a calm that few held as they entered Aufstrag.

He desired her like nothing he had desired before.

Sending troops to stop the caravan at the gate he dressed himself in his finest armors and took up his sword that bore the lives of many men in its cold embrace. Throwing an azure cloak about his shoulders, he descended to the portico and there hailed the caravan’s captain.

“What do you bring through my gates, good captain.”

“Tribute, my lord. Tribute from Raenluu, Lord of the Agnon.”

“I do not know this Raenluu, nor have I heard of the Agnon. You must surrender your arms and give over your tribute until such time as I deem it can pass.” He turned to his lieutenant. “Take them to the Bone Pit and house them there.

“It cannot be so master. For Raenluu will flay me alive if I yield this lady, his payment to the Horned One.” Next he whispered. “Please? Is there not some accommodation we might arrive at?”

Though his power was great, it was reckless for Coburg to deny tribute to his master, for Unklar’s vision was great and little passed his notice. But Coburg’s lust had grown with each moment he stood near the lady in her chains, for the scent of her was on him, and it drove him to a rashness he never would have attempted otherwise. “I am Lord of the Ahargon Den. I command here. None pass to my master’s hall without my permission. And none are permitted to question me. Take them, lieutenant; all of them. Take them to the Hall of Chains and give them to the devils there for their amusement. The woman, take to my quarters.”

He turned from the gates, the cries of the caravan master and his men falling around him like so many stones. Those who did not fight or surrender were born off into the darkness of Aufstrag to suffer death and torment, and the rest were slain. The lady, however, was taken from the wagon and delivered without harm to Coburg’s chambers high above the portico. They set her before him and left when dismissed.

There, he gazed upon her and loved her and swore she would be his own.

He did not know that the Lady of Garun used her wondrous gaze and lustrous lips to capture the hearts and minds of others, binding them to her so that she could devour them. With a kiss, she drew forth their souls and slew them: men, and women, children, and beasts; she harvested the souls for her own evil intent, harboring them within her own bosom. These souls fed her, giving her a great power over men. Thus, her captors had bound her mouth with a plate of gold.

Undaunted by the precautions of her binding, Coburg removed the plate from her mouth and drew her to him and stole a kiss. She allowed him, for she saw his death before her and hungered for his soul.

But to her amazement, her kiss did not affect Coburg, for the curse of the Baron Kul hung upon his brow; it had driven his soul from his body and cast it out. Staggered and amazed, the Lady of Garun made to move back from him and take measure of her captor. He was tall and well made with a smooth face and narrow eyes. His face bore the lines of evil that marked men of his disposition, but his demeanor was one of casual power, as if the world had given him his just due as he knew that it would. There was a power of madness in him too, and she longed for it.

He returned her gaze and passed from his world into some other world that was hers and was amazed. There before him flowed a river deep and wide and filled with the shades of all things that were or would ever be. He followed its course to a stream that broke free of the river and tumbled down slopes too dark to see. The river possessed a quiet that made all other noise seem ponderously heavy. It flowed into a deep, dark pond, covered with water lilies, that shone orange and white in the darkness. There in the pond stood the Lady, her long black hair her only raiment. A fine mist covered her flesh and it captured some unknown light and cast it back in faint pulses. She moved slowly through the thigh deep water and his eye was drawn up her thigh to her hip and stomach and breasts and at last to the soft contours of her face.

The Lady gazed at the lilies in the pond in wonder, taking no heed of Coburg as he stood dumb founded, eyes locked upon her.

At last he approached the water, bending; he ran his hand through the pond. He felt little, for the water was not warm, nor cool. The pond was lifeless but for the lilies and these too seemed possessed of some power of death. And then he saw the roots of the lilies and knew them for what they were. Here her harvested souls settled, captured by her embrace and brought to this pool, what surely must be a strand of the Arc of Time. They took root in the pond and brought her such joy as ever any other creature felt. And these souls were damned, for they were bound in the pool for all time, until the Gonfod should come.

The two stayed locked in her otherworld for a long while until, at last, the spell of it was broken, and he returned to his own mind.

She loved Coburg from that day to the end of the world. She joined him in his captaincy and through her marked beauty, became a wonder of that grim dungeon. Coburg took her to him as if he were at last paid for his mortal toil, and he flaunted her to all who came near him. He named her then, the Vessel of Souls, and she was recognized by that title ever after.

The Lady of Garun bore a beauty beyond mortal kin, an echo of creation itself. Her long, dark tresses, streaked with white, played upon her narrow, delicate shoulders. Her eyes, like pools of night glistened in the dark halls of Aufstrag. She turned the eyes of all Unklar’s court and many coveted her, but she only had a mind for Coburg. They bore a dark love between them that not even the Horned God understood. They lived in Aufstrag for many centuries, he keeping the keys of Aufstrag, and she standing by his side. So they believed they would live for all eternity.

When word of the Lady came to Unklar in his high chair he summoned his captain to the throne room. There Coburg found him in concourse with Dolgan, son of Hirn. They were discussing the forge, one of Unklar’s favored subjects. The dwarf, son of kings of old, was bound in servitude to the Horned God and had been for some time. He was known throughout Aufstrag as the Furcthloss, the Undaunted, for he would not bow to Unklar, but served the forge only and damned the Horned God with his every breath.
   Coburg waited in the shadows of the hall with the other courtiers and listened to the ebb and flow of the argument. At last, Unklar waved the dwarf off and commanded he return to the Klarglich and the task at hand. The dwarf turned from the throne and tread from the hall and all stepped away from him. He crossed Coburg’s path, and his iron-gray eyes burned. Though the Undying did not quail before the dwarf, he stepped back, for the dwarf seemed to look through him, taking no notice of he or the wondrous beauty at his side. And the absence of recognition of any kind diminished Coburg, and he seemed small, a simple captain, and warden of the gate.

At last Unklar turned his gaze upon him and called him forward. “Blackheart, how is the Gate’s Warden? Do you keep my peace?” The god sat upon his throne, wrapped in dark silks, his deep red skin alive with the power of his form. His legs were those of a goat, and his head a massive block that bore the weight of two giant black horns.

“The tribute flows, oh Unklar. You’ve never asked more.”

“Does it now? The Hall of Chains would beg to differ.”

Coburg knew then that Unklar knew what had happened to the Lady’s captors. “No, oh Lord of Souls. The tribute flows, even to the Hall of Chains. Some who would do you a disservice are bound there at my command, but they are yours nonetheless.” Coburg’s courage had grown since his youthful days, and though he feared Unklar’s wrath, he knew the Horned God’s mind was ever on other things than his gate or his minor captains.

“But rumor has come to me of an offering of such wonder that men have died for it. This offering landed in your hands. Is it not so?”

The truth of all the deeds were laid bare, and Coburg knew that to lie would be to invite death or worse. Before he could speak, however, the Lady of Garun stepped forward. “Oh Horned One, Glory of Aufstrag, and arbiter of the All Father’s will, your captain did but rescue me from the cruel pits that my captors intended for me.” She turned her head up and allowed Unklar to see in her face, and it was flush with beauty, and her dark eyes and skin appealed to him. For a moment, he was taken aback.

In her eyes he saw the depth of her power, for there was a pond of dark water and within it grew many lilies. He saw her standing in the pond, tending the lilies, the souls of her victims. He saw her unmasked, for she was of the Val Eahrakun, though lesser, and she harvested souls and kept them from the Arc of Time; though, it seemed that she herself was unaware of her nature.

The spell of her beauty was broken, and vain Unklar returned to his recalcitrant minion. “You were right, Blackheart, to keep her from me. I have no need of these broken creatures.”

The Lady of Garun looked quizzically to Coburg who took no more notice of the insult to his love, than he did to the insult to his own person. “All things are as they should be.”

“No. Not yet. We have much to do, and I have no more time for your banter or these guests you bring before me. Take your leave; go to the gate, and keep watch for the approach of my enemies.” Unklar settled back into his throne and looked out across the hall, lost in thought.

So they returned to their quarters in the First Ward and took up the task assigned to them, lording over the gates and all those who passed beneath.

But such endings were not theirs, for in time the tides of war lapped over the towers of Aufstrag, and the power of the Horned God fell away beneath the iron heels and blood red axes of the kings of men. Chaos engulfed the halls, and civil war spread from one level to the next. Powers rose and fell and creatures died in those masterless pits of hell.

Coburg had ruled the gates for a thousand years, and his face was known to all. His power over men was great, for of all the creatures in that fell place he was the most constant, always in the Horned God’s favor and never taking up arms against his greater servants. He had many enemies, but friends as well. Two of the Mogrl, those dread devils of Unklar’s creation, joined their fate to his. For long years these two had guarded the gates of Aufstrag in the Captain’s presence and they were familiar to him. When civil war came, Coburg called to them and bid them to take him to the high seat so that they might plot to bring Unklar back to the world of men.

Possessed of little will to serve themselves, the Mogrl readily agreed to this. In this they were duped by Coburg, for he did not desire the return of the Horned God, rather the opposite. He desired to rule in his stead and assume the mantle of the god-emperors of old. Only this time, the god-emperor would be immortal and all the world his to rule. The Mogrl rallied to his cause, and they rose up the tower in columns of ash and rage, fire and death and none could withstand them.

Others joined them, and Coburg’s army became a collection of Unklar’s servants, some drawn to Coburg, some to the Lady of Garun, but most to the power of the Mogrl. They flocked to the Horned God’s halls girded for battle.

Before them stood a cabal of wizards, powerful men and women of the Paths of Umbra. Many of the Red Guard stood with the Umbrians, men in the service of Unklar, and a collection of other miscreants, devils, and beasts of hell.

Coburg entered the hall, his exquisite armor carved with the likeness of many lilies, his hands held high, in a gesture of peace. “In the name of Unklar, the Horned God, I bid you lay down your arms and step free of the throne. I am Coburg, his loyal servant and captain of his guard and armies.” These last were spoken for the Mogrl’s benefit, and if they realized it, the beasts never took heed.

“How now, gate keeper? You have no authority here. Your acts are well known and your service little more than a lip’s service to the cup.” The wizard, Buel, stood forth, old and steeped in a power that few possessed. “It is up to the Paths of Umbra now to right this wrong visited on the world. Be gone with your host back to the gates and close them, binding them against further ingress.” He approached Coburg, his fingers, burnt black with years of sorcery, dripped his arcane power.

“There will be a new Captain of the Ahargon Den, old Buel. It is you that must step aside; do it now, or die.”

The wizard raised his hand to strike Coburg down, but the doors were smashed asunder with a burst of flame, and the Mogrl came through, scattering all before them like ashes in the wind. Of the wizards, Buel alone stood, but he was joined by the Red Guard, who flanked him.

The battle was long and costly and the slaughter great. Buel’s power proved far greater than Coburg imagined, and the wizard held his own against all who he fought. One of the Mogrl was broken at his hand, though whether slain or driven from the hall it is not known. Not until the hour was late and the slaughter passed the point of forgiveness did the Lady of Garun step in. Seeing Buel struck by a bolt cast by the Mogrl, she embraced him and kissed him so that his soul was wrenched free of the world and cast to the Pool of Lilies upon the Arc of Time.

With Buel’s passing the battle ended, and those who remained lay down their arms and swore oaths to Coburg. Those who fled swore their vengeance on him as they vanished into the lower halls.

Thus Coburg came to rule in Aufstrag. Though his power, and that of the lady who ruled by his side, was never complete, it did extend over the higher floors. Life became brutal for them, but it was one where Coburg had acquired power beyond any he had truly believed he would achieve. As such, he was styled Lord of Aufstrag, God-Emperor of Aenoch.

But his happiness, if it could be styled such, was soon to end.

The west was not finished with Aufstrag, and they sought to pull it down and lay it low. Paladins came, leading a host from Kayomar, and they joined the flower of Anglamay and the counties around her. These marched across the sea and joined Aachen and Augsberg. Tageans joined the host as did many dwarves from Norgorad Kam and Grundliche Hohle. Mercenaires, northmen, and others besides joined the massive army as it marched on Aufstrag.

Coburg sought to hold the gates against the might of the kings, but there was chaos in the halls. Eventually, they drew him forth to battle, for even then they could not force the gates. Tis said that the masters of the lower halls hounded Coburg so that he was forced to battle on the causeway and around the gates, something he did not want to do. The battle raged for days upon the Wasting Way and into the swamps and lands beyond. The slaughter was immense, the suffering and the loss beyond anything the lords of the west had thought possible.

All the while, some brave souls climbed the great walls, breaching Aufstrag through hidden paths and secret doors, bringing the war to the inner sanctums of evil.

Thus it was that a Knight of Confession came into the very high halls Coburg claimed for his own.

There he found the Lady of Garun, and her beauty struck him a fool. He bore her up in his arms and thought to spirit her away. His men called to him to join them and take the great throne room so that none could hold it against them; the dread Mogrl stood there and they needed the power of the Confessors. But the Knight cared not for his task, he abandoned the war and carrying the Lady of Garun upon his shoulder, fled to the high towers of Aufstrag.

His own men, thinking some vile sorcery had taken him, set off in pursuit. The chase carried them to the very heights of the citadel, three thousand feet or more above the raging battle below. The lady called out for her love. At her cry, Coburg looked up, and with that glance a blow struck him down and he fell to the earth, trampled and beaten. The paladin at last saw a harpy of gigantic girth perched upon a high precipice. He leaped upon it and forced the beastly creature to bear him and the lady away into the gloom and far from his men and duty.

Below, madness took the tattered army of Coburg, and it fled or fell beneath the hosts of the west while the harpy, with the Knight upon its back, bore the Lady of Garun away from all the toil to the edge of the Dreaming Sea.

Coburg climbed from the pit of death and returned to the throne room and the chair of his power, set, as it were, beneath Unklar’s own. He saw his lady-love’s chair empty and grief, rage, and hatred took him so that his wails carried beyond the Wall of Worlds to her, where she lay in the embrace of a mad knight.

Thus they were parted, the only two who loved one another in all the annals of Aufstrag, if we are to give the foul people of that dreadsome place the right to love.

~Fini~

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