3. In the boarshead....

In the boarshead....

  • E

    What in the hells is with barbarians?

    The man thought. One was comming to kill him, he was dragging another out of the clutches of death, and another was giving him advice like a sage only with an axe that could have taken his head off. He looked down at the components of leaves and petals he was mixing in a steaming pot. And maybe, just maybe the giver of sweet sweet dreamless sleep.

    Well look at it this way.. He thought. If you die, no more worrying. before he scooped the contents with a ladel into a cup. Hours of sleep sounded very nice, almost as good as the days of sleep the witch had threatened if he ate the petals themselves. But he refained from the latter, knowing that probably that much time would not be allowed. He looked down at the contents the petals floating on the surface swirling slowly, the man deciding to wait to drink it until he was in safe place as she advised and hoping the whole while that it would work better than the drugged muffins he had tried months ago.

    What do you want

    Indeed that was the question he thought, as so eloquently posed by the barbarian growling at him as she didnt' like his answers. Did he know better now than before she had given him a verbal thrashing? He thought a moment. He wanted to do fix what he had started. Grendz would get the release he wanted one way or another, that he vowed. He had sent Sherin to spread the word and maybe even find Grendz himself. The battle field was chosen, and he knew exactly how he'd start it. He had used the coin left him to purchase several flags and some iron poles, and all the potions he could get a wiggler to sell him, just in case the body was unwilling. If the Barbarian sought ceremony, he'd give it to him. If he sought a dirty underhanded fight he'd give it to him. The long trip from wherever his home lay would be worth it.

    He opened the door to his room, and looked to the stone lying beside his bed. He took it and began to sharpen the blade as he sat on the matress, which the room being one of the finer ones had. If this worked he wanted to enjoy it. He sharpened the blade and began to speak a poem in bad voice and rythm making one wonder if he even knew it at all, and wasn't merely filling in blanks of a memory.

    _Friends buy me an ale this day.
    My enemy waits outside this very door
    Wanting what isn't quite yet before
    Waiting to see what fate will pay

    I go with sharpened blade
    A shield at my side
    And I thus do confide
    That death may just be at my side.

    Sure my enemy will kick and yell
    But in the end its the one who rises
    That decides of what the story comprises
    For only their lips the story can tell

    So wish me victory so I may spin the tale
    Of my victory and winning of a lass
    For every blow that came to pass
    Thus to be worthy of this stout ale.

    Sing, my story into the night
    Of the evil villian with dark eyes
    And of the great victory prize
    Provided by our majestic display of might

    Oh and pass me another ale
    Things went oh… to well
    For my throat is dry
    And another round I wish to try._

    He then sat his blade aside and after offering a prayer to the lady downed the liquid waiting for sleep to take him, and thinking of the fight that would undoubtably come in the next few days.

  • E

    The red headed man walked outside the Peltarchian west gate. He had tried to defend his charge and confidant and had been shoved away. He sighed heavily as he held his trembling wrist. "Seems lass, only one promise left I can try to keep…", he muttered as we went into a far corner still within the walls but far enough away where no one would notice and motioned to a hin with dark curly hair that was following him pulling a cart.

    "Sherin, pull them out over there." The hin went to it and began to remove many medium sized to small square wooden rods and some wooden wheels and some rope.

    "What's this for Sir?"

    "Planning.. " The man with the help of the hin and many hours do to his weakened state constructed a rather wobbly contraption with a spinning arm.

    "Me thinks you should have found a gnome." The gnome said panting as he helped move the final pieces into place.

    "Aye, but I already pay you. Thought you'd be glad to to be running messages about through the pass."

    "Ahh true true! I still do not understand how this will help."

    The human grunted as he lifted a very long flat board with a strange hook cut into it and put it into place on the contraptions arm, a weight that normally wouldnt' have bothered any solider. "This Sherin, is the sword."

    "Its big. Not sharp though."

    "Aye it is. And this is what I have to beat it with.." The man continued drawing his long sword.

    "Wouldn't it be better to spar with another brawler?"

    "Aye.. But I'm nay that strong... Yet.." The man tested the contraption tapping the larger beam and watching it spin. "hrmm.."

    The man played with the contraption for hours tapping the wooden arm about in various places to and through, it not moving very easily do the sloppy construction. Finally as night fell he looked over at sherin and tossed him some coin. "Take it down."

    "what?! that took us hours to build."

    "Just do it friend.." The man leaving as the hin went to work. The hin calling out behind him.

    "Shouldn't you be resting? Like nurse said?"

    "I nay have one anymore,evidentally." The man called out behind him as he entered the city.

    The man's thoughts were full as he walked towards the Blushing Mermaid. His old friend had arrived. He had heard the rumors from the dock people of an oddly dressed man. Things that seemed strangely familiar to him. It would only be a matter of time before he found him, he wasn't leaving the area. He would have to do what he could, pray for the Lady's to provide guidance at the most opportune times, and most importantly try not to fall dead. A group had begun to follow him, watching when they thought he wasn't looking. They didn't understand the fight, only its potential consequences. He sighed as he felt his hand tremble slightly. He had grown stronger with his rest after the battle, but the weakness had become more unpredicatable as time passed. Something that could be deadly in the fight. As long as it was predictable he could adjust accordingly but it would be certain death if the weakness should leave or come causing him to hit harder or weaker than he had planned for leaving him open. He stopped at the door of the blushing mermaid.

    Aye that'd shock him… We'll see who gives who chase...

    He then turned and walked towards the docks. The one place he knew where people couldn't keep something quiet for long as secretive as they were. He stopped by one of the sailors eating something while taking a short break from loading a ship.

    "Did you hear friend? Some criminal's on the run and told a knight.. Grendz.. Grendz something.. I forget the last name that he can farkin' rot in the sewers if he can't find his own nose and that the wenches all spit in his general direction. Seems he's challenging him if he the stupid knight can ever find his own daft nose. Says he'll be waiting to the south when he gets of his arse and decides to work… Oh and seems this is all secretive like.. Shouldn't tell anyone, I heard it from a drunk lass I bedded the other night." he then walked into the three legged mule feeling slightly dirty, but with a dark smirk on his face.

  • E

    The man stumbled in from the forest bits of rotten flesh and shards of bone stuck in and on various places on his armor, green blood dripping from him. His eyes were weary and he held arm ash he shook slightly. He could hear his nurse's voice in his head, "REST! No working all the time," as he collapsed by the fires not taking the time to undo his armor. Somehow he'd had the strength to survive, and even fetch the annoying bard's body. He smiled slightly as his eyes closed. "see how you like it…"

    He wondered where Amalia had wandered off to, and hoped that she had found cover during the fighting. Two days worth. He should have gotten up and found her but his body refused and kept him down until he finally found sleep. His mind drifted to Vine and the others and wondered where they had gone after the cave, and if they still lived. He had been unable to go with him as he had wanted but he had stood with the force that had managed to save the camp from irreperable damage, at least for the moment, and hoped that he would find it a worthy trade.

    He muttered something in his sleep his hand moving to his chest, where it sat for the rest of his well earned nap, not even waking for the dogs that seemed to find the new smells on his armor quite interesting.

  • E

    The man laid weakly accross the table eyeing the a gold ring that glimmered in the candle light. He was going to strangle that bard. All he needed was the strength to do it. He thought about the wonderufl sound of hearing the bard gasp for air just so he would semi understand what he had just done.

    "Lass its not there…" He sighed and tried to fling the ring from the table but it only slid a few inches. "Farking gods.." He cursed drunkenly. "farking mirk..", "farking lilly..."

    His fight was comming. He could feel it. Every step, the very breeze, his dreams. The bard couldn't understand, it was something a warrior just knew when it comes. When word had reached him he knew for sure. He wondered what the man would look like if he would honor him by comming in full military armor or merely witha pike to stab him and a garbage barrel to haul him back in. It was fitting who they had sent. Something prophetic was in their choice, the original fight comming full circle. He pictured the man last time they met, laying on the floor a green liquid running from his mouth, his body paralyzed except or the eyes watching him confu sed and enraged. Maybe Mirk was there to torture him in Grendz's place. He had come to him for help and to say good bye as he would do the one thing that might fix it all. And all he had done was thrown it back in his face. "..it'd give you an excuse.."he mumbled remembering the bard's words.

    "Lass I'm nay strong enough.." feeling his hand shake and remembering the nurse having to haul his body up the stairs of the boarshead. He wondered how the refit was going, and called himself a daft fool mentally when he recalled Penny's story knowing durn well she wouldn't be at a refit. He could picture her dashing off into the woods, hiding in the shadows, Lilly not knowing otherwise. She was good at that. No she'd be fine. She was skilled, she used a sword much better since her training, and quick of mind when she had to be,even if it lacked foresight at times.

    "Ocean... I'm sorry.. " As he passed out the bottles of ale finally taking their toll the image of the ring being the last thing he saw before darkness took him.

  • E

    The man stood in the finest room of the boarshead holding some food and a pitcher of water in his hands. He paused for a minute to listen to the rain tattering against the roof before looking down at the lass laid across the bed, a little bruised but safe in any case. His head shook as he remembered the other night and how he and his friend, two proud warriors had had a hard time even carrying the lass up the stairs from her feighnting spell. He laid the things on the table took of his gauntlet and held his arm straight out again peering at his hand. It shook ever so slightly before it became steady as a rock but right before he lowered it, the hand shook again. Was his flesh refusing to come back to him as well? Or was his mind just not there. His pride had been shaken over the past few days.

    First with a barbarian. She had hunted lizards with him on the field and was rather a belligerent soul yet somehow she had willingly put up with his presence. It wasn't the fact that she was a woman that bothered him however, or the constant spitting and biting off the flesh of her enemies like a rabid animal. She had opted not for strategy when the fighting had begun and had ran in head long into the attackers downed many of them in single blows and while he had tried to keep up with her slaughter he knew he had failed miserably and had been left in a rather bloody wake of destruction. The only thing he took pride in was sneaking up on some archers she had missed in her assault that would have caught her from behind if he had not snuck up behind them and removed their will to breathe. He should have probably even given her an even larger portion of the gold. Shaking his head he thought , "still she could prove more than a worthy asset if she was willing."

    His gaze then shifted to the lass on the bed for a change not shivering as if on the verge of frostbite. A mere servant, not trained a wink in combat yet as much as he hated to admit it she had almost defeated him in an arm wrestling match. He shook his head again as his mind drifted to another thought and muttered. "Listens to her employers too well even if she doesn't remember. Don't listen to the guard. scratches his beard Aye who in all the hells does that sound l ike." He mentally cursed himself. He had grown lax in his duties. He thought of his charge across the ocean knowing that he should have forced his way onto the boat even if he had to be a stowaway. Somehow letting her have her way about things seemed more than just a breach of duty, and only hoped that Lilly was keeping her promise and watching over her where he could not. Then there was her wonderful minion. Also evidentally haven gotten herself into trouble because she wandered off by herself when she wanted. The man made a mental note to himself to not believe for a second that a charge knew best as evidentally that theory was being proven horribly false.

    He sighed muttering the words, "Slave trader. bah, of all things… THAT'S what people believe..." before returning to his duties.

  • E

    He sat on a hill looking down on the planes and rifts a rather stoic expression on his face except for an intense anger that burned in his eyes. The piles of rocks and traps that had begun to hinder his way– no matter how many times he plowed through them--was beginning to annoy him. Yet at the same time it was a very intriguing puzzle. The eastlanders wouldn't say a word ass many times as he had tried to speak to them, yet defended the piles of rocks which made even less sense as it often blocked them in as well. It made him wonder if they were defending the piles to keep people out, to make once again some insignificant point in the worst of ways, or... wouldn't it be ironic if they were trying to keep something in? He smiled mentally, "Aye that would be ironic." The possibilities gave him something for his mind to churn distracting him momentarily bringing him a moment of happiness.

    But it didn't matter. In the end they were helping to prevent his way. Something that would not be tolerated. His skills were beginning to be needed in several areas and given his recent failures he had no choice but to follow, he'd his word to keep after all. Though one of the barbarians had given him a slight slimmer of hope during the brief mention of orcish custom as she had eaten the flesh of her enemy combatants. Were his weeks of effort not wasted after all? He forced himself not to think about it not wanting to become distracted again. The marauders and brigands would not keep him from his work. He hoped they would speak instead but somehow doubted they would be that intelligent.

    He muttered something as he looked down on the valley..

    _"Rolling thunder from the sky
    Crushing banners waving high
    Lightning striking sword and blade
    Until the path to victory is made

    Burning fires from below
    Leaving ash in its tow
    Is the gift to those that would not call us friend
    Leading us to a task we once again begin"_

    He then peered down one last time at a pile of stone then turned back to the camp.