German RQCon 7

I, Garundyer, Hero of the Seven Storms and without a doubt the most powerful living Orlanthi heroquester in Glorantha today (thanks, Jeff!), began the game sulking in my tent: King Kocholang (D.Cheng) had snubbed me by appointing my best friend, Trokatan Who-Saw-The-Lightning (D.Barker) as Tribal Champion in my place, and I was having none of it. Although our kingdom of Lankst was oppressed by the sorcerous heretical henotheists of Otkorion, I would not raise a finger in their defence.

So, incognito (as "Harmast the Traveller"), I hung around the fringes of the tournament, acting as a simple Orlanthi abroad, reciting "Sweet Green Woman" to any impressionable damsels I found, snubbing Henotheists and trolls, and searching for the Foreigner Hero my colleague Harandros the Iron Brain had prophesied would either help or hinder us against our foes.

Before too long, King Arzuban Ironarms (L.Jardine) had recruited me for a daring Lightbringers Quest. This was one of my game objectives, so I joined in with gusto, volunteering myself as Flesh Man (so as to represent the "Average Orlanthi" as a figure of heroic proportions!). The black Night Magics of the Trolls were spreading across the land, and we had to move fast. We picked up a Lhankor Mhy, a Chalana Arroy and a Fool (D.Fahey) easily, but had more difficulty with the Issaries trader and the Ginna Jar. Then Arzuban noticed that the wandering Moose Man (R.Meints) had been trading pelts earlier... All but one place was cast.

We were looking for a Ralia priestess to bind our multi-ethnic Ring together -- we had been assured one was in the game -- and this is where the downside of freeform costuming came in. There were a crowd of black-hearted Trolls in the game, mostly wearing heavy leather coats and shades; we had assumed the purple-haired nose-studded black-clad girl was attached to their faction. Imagine our surprise when we learnt she was our errant priestess. A quick spell of persuasion and oath-taking, and our Ring was now complete: I revealed my true identity to my comrades-in-arms, and we took the Low Road to Hell.

There, we found the slumbering spirit of a great Hero, and awakened it. Returning to the world, we discovered we had brought back Arkat the Liberator -- and better yet, he was already carrying the Runes of Orlanth. (A quick dash of woad and they looked even better). Our crusade against our enemies seemed sure to succeed: if only we could agree who they might be. Arzuban preferred to hammer the Trolls, I myself had set my sights on the Henotheists.

To my horror, I discovered Arkat recruiting among the sorcerous, tainted, Tap-using Henotheists for his forthcoming war. I strove to point out that this was the error he had made in his past life -- that taking some allies was going Too Far -- that some powers (sorcery; trollery) must be left along. I delivered my rebuke from a position of moral strength, then took my leave to join Arzuban in dismantling the Henotheist Church of Otkorion by force of words alone.

Klostron the Shallow Wind (D.Gadbois) converted, and was woaded up. Surantyr the Non-Heretic (aka. "the Non-Child-Abuser" in our faction: "what's he trying to hide?") converted -- though I came perilously close to killing him instead. More woad. Sir Storm converted: more woad. Our foes were in disarray, and our former foes were blue in the face...

But by now there were now three Arkats. One was our unreliable ally, one a stinking Troll, and the third the son of Foyalfine -- who I had already defied and insulted for a lady's honour. They claimed to be the same person, and to be plotting war against each other and the world -- their insanity was obvious. Accepting upon myself the responsibility for our failed Lightbringers Quest, we did as Harmast Barefoot had done before, and returned to Hell to seek a New Light. And boy, did we find one!

My people remember Arkat the Traitor with hatred -- he destroyed the Bright Empire and let Chaos into the world. We knew and loved Nysalor. And it was to that deity that we now turned, following in the footsteps of the Red Goddess on her quest to recover the Light of Illumination. We returned to the world riding a giant Star Bear, ready to challenge the Arkats (four, now!). But it seemed we were too late.

Everyone was mustering for war, and it would be the Chaos Wars all over again, the fair lands of Ralios left as dust, ooze and ashes, civilisation destroyed and life extinguished, krjalki proliferating across the wasteland of the world. We travelled between the factions as unarmed emissaries, preaching peace and praying for the rulers to remember the spirit of Kustria, the reason they had come together to this place. But it seemed our words were in vain...

Until a spider whispered in my ear that there was a Fifth Arkat, Argin Terror. If we could assemble all the peoples of Ralios to make war on that monstrous sorcerous Lord of Chaos, all of the Arkats would depart the world again, riding upon our Star Bear to their (his?) constellation in the sky. I spoke to the Tournament King of Kustria, and he mustered the expedition. All the peoples of Ralios, who had been divided by their race and tribe, kingdom and creed, united against a common foe. It was "I Fought, We Won" all over again. Ralios rose, and we were saved.