FFH Stories

[The_King]

So there's a game called Civilization 4, and then there's a fantasy mod for it called Fall From Heaven. I'm beginning to get involved in expanding that mod (technically I'm actually a few modmod levels further in than that, but that won't actually make sense if you don't play) which occasionally involves writing things. I'll post them here, too, since it's fantasy stuff that I'm writing and it might interest you.

The Fall From Heaven Forum - http://forums.civfanatics.com/forumdisplay.php?f=190

[The_King]

This is the description for a leader named Mordmorgan, a good pirate. Elohim and Malakim refer to countries. This guy, or someone very much like him, does exist in Rotania as this is a good example of what the Order of the Blue Rose is about.



The Elohim merchant vessel had been almost too easy to capture. The pirate vessel had snuck up on them silently in the mist, wrecking their mast with the first broadside before the merchants even knew they where in danger. Pirates grinned as they drew alongside and readied grappling hooks – the merchant crew screamed and ran into their cabins in senseless terror.
The captain came on board personally with the first wave. A woman had been spotted fleeing into the main cabin, and the captain liked to claim such prizes personally. His crew dispersed below decks to ferret out the fleeing merchant cowards that had abandoned their posts. The captain kicked down the door with a fearsome and bellowing laugh that he reserved for inspire terror in his prisoners. Stretched out on the desk of the main cabin was, indeed, a woman's dress, but it was empty. Just then a call came out from behind him.
“Captain! The mast!”
“What about it?” He bellowed.
“It's armor plated! It only fell over because it's on a hinge!”
The captain's heart fell at those words. Courage turned to fear as he suddenly noticed that none of his men had yet returned from the lower decks. He opened his mouth to call for a retreat, but was silenced by the feel of cold steel against his throat. He turned his head, slowly and carefully, and saw the man who had hidden in the rafters above the door. His hair was long and grey, but he moved with a grace unusual for his age. He spoke with a dignified and cultured accent, gained from the years he had spent as a spice trader on the mainland.
“I am Captain Mordmorgan. Your men appear to be trespassing, a crime that bears serious penalties on the high seas. I do hope you and your crew know how to swim – it is two miles to the nearest island.”

Mordmorgan was a kind man, at least in comparison to others in his chosen profession – he left the pirates with enough barrels to stay afloat until land. He watched them recede into the mist for a moment, then turned to his first mate.
“How many were willing to swear off a life of crime and commit to penance?”
“Only four, captain, this was a rough lot we caught today.”
“All the better that they are off the seas, then. How is my ship?”
“The Stolen Thunder has a few dings on her, but nothing serious. We picked up more than enough scrap to repair her before we scuttled the pirates. That mast plating took a direct hit, but there's nary a scratch on it. How you talked the dwarves out of it I'll never know.”
“Trade secret, my friend, you know that. Were there any serious injuries among the crew?”
“One man took a nasty blow to his arm, but the doctor has him patched up just fine. Everyone else is ready to go.”
“Bring up the Malakim flag next – there's a fleet five days to the north heading for one of their colonies. We'll play the straggler and see who bites.”