Lord Helgast's Memoirs

My name is Agron Porsson Bjarnarsonar, and I am the third son of Por Bjarnarson Hallssonar, fourth Lord or Whelkin Point. As I was not due to inherit my fathers lands, he arranged for me to take a commission I the army, and I duly served my apprenticeship at Belton Grove academy and passed into His Majesties forces as a Subaltern in the 3rd Lancers. However, the Lancers were often out on patrol, and I did not take well to the privations life of a junior officer in camp. So I prevailed upon my father to secure me a transfer to the General staff, and his influence was sufficient to not only arrange the transfer, but to secure a promotion to lieutenant at the same time. I spent the next five years living in quarters in town, running occasional errands for my general and keeping the staff in order, although it was Segeant Jon Seffersson who did much of that. And then the war came - all hell broke loose, sometimes literally - or so it seemed.

Almost immediately the armies were assembled and I was back in the field. It wasn’t so bad as with the Lancers, this time around I had a batman to look after my kit and a couple of troopers to pitch my tent and move my bed and chairs around. It wasn’t too bad at first, I ate at Prince General Ingmar’s table along side General Kross who ran the Princes brigade on a day-to-day basis and Lt Colonel Ingar who was responsible for the Home Regiment – so the company and food was acceptable, although the women were scarce, and I had reasonable accommodations.

Then the war started to go against us. We were pushed back and pushed back, into tighter and tighter corners, and the army was gradually worn away. Finally it became clear that we had lost. The king told the population to scatter and to survive as best he could - and he sent his nephew, who just happened to be my Royal General Ingmar, to the elves to try and regroup, and so that one member of the riyal family remained to lead the people. Then the king lead his armies on one final sortie, that provided enough of a distraction for his people to flee.

However, the situation in the land was worse than the king feared, and there were pockets of humanoids and demons all across the land. By the time we got to the Elven enclosures we were reduced to about 200 men. Worse, the elves had been under attack, and had withdrawn to their woodland borders. There would be no active help from that quarter. However, they did provide us with lodgings and secure haven, so life became more comfortable for me, and some of the elf maidens turned out to be quite accommodating, so I settled down to see out the war.

However, Kross had other ideas. He started sending patrols out into the surrounding lands to harass the humanoids and to protect any of our people they came across. I managed to stay away from that most of the time, but even then I was occasionally given command of a patrol to work around the borders of the Elven Woodlands.

It was during this period that everyone got different names. Royal General Ingmar, for example became Fadir, while Lt Colonel Ingar became Borinn. The only one who didn’t get a new name was Kross, and no one quite dared to label him with anything he wouldn’t accept.

Some people got their names from their physical attributes – others from deeds. One example was a deep penetration patrol who discovered a humanoid army in the Gremm Sward Pass. Alfek, as he was to become, used guerrilla tactics to keep the army in the pass, and gradually picked off their members, reducing their strength and numbers. When they finally did press trough the pass they had been weakened enough that the combined strength of the people of the Barrens was enough to defeat them. Blodugar gets his name from the battle of Fallen Birch. No one really knows what happened there, except he was the only one to make it back to camp, covered in cuts and blood.

But gradually our numbers were whittled down until we didn’t really have enough men to mount effective patrols.

Then Fadir stuck a deal with the ancients. We were to guard their portals, while they would support us. It left us a few members to send out into the wilds offering support to the people of Golden Hope. Not enough to fight wars, but just enough to be around and supportive.

In return, we became immortal, or close enough. The ancients gave us long life, and a promise of resurrection and what more can a man want. I got detailed to command the post at Gabilgathol. By the demon’s teeth, those dwarves are boring. All they are interested in is fighting, digging and drinking. But not drinking civilly, oh no, they knock back huge tankards of ale like there is no tomorrow. Get drunk start a fight, crack a few heads, then drink again before they sleep it off. In the morning they all turn up for work down the mines … Gods, I hated that place. But no matter how I tried, I couldn’t get myself posted back to Garthurian, and the elf maids.

But help was to hand, I discovered that I could use a crystal to communicate with the Elves below. Initially I was interested in their women, but that wasn’t to be. Instead I used them to find a demon who could help me. Usterth Firebreath the Great was my saviour. I did a small task for him, and he arranged this life of luxury for me. Now I Live here, surrounded by beautiful demon women who are dutiful and obedient to me, other smaller demons wait on us hand and foot, supplying all the wine and food a man might need. My only complaint is that their music, doesn’t sit comfortably on my ears.

The others didn’t like it when I left ‘The Order’ as they now call it. Indeed they changed my name again this time I am Lord Helgast – they call me the fallen one, the defiler of all that is good. I find it a bit hurtful, but my demon women always manage to take my mind off of it. After all, why shouldn’t I have given up living in a cramped and cold barracks in a Dwarven Hell Hole, to come live in this small paradise of my own?

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