The Untitled Tale-
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The Untitled Tale:
It was spring, water trickled down the freshly visable roof as the snow began to melt away. The small stone masoned cabin sits on the far north edge of a large wheat farm. In front of the cabins lies wooden door, lined from within by a large brown bear hide, as to keep the harsh winds of Cormyr at bay through the cold season. On each side of the door, sits small hide covered windows. As thick smoke rises from the chimney, the hovering clouds allow small glimpses of sunlight, as if light itself, is raining from the heavens.
Inside the gray stone cabin, lies a situated room, with two single person beds, a small crib that lies next to one. A gray wolf hide covers the wooden plank floor, and atop that sits a small round table, with two chairs, and a smaller chair next to one. The fireplace shelters a warm fire, and the smell of burning oak fills the cabin with a natural essence. In one of the beds, a woman, in her late 20's lay sleeping under a hand-quilted blanket. Stitched to the top of the cover is a bright red rose.
Not far from the cabin, a grandmother walks along a traveled road pushing a small, four wheeled cart that inside holds a small, 6 month old little boy. She walks along the road, toward a small town off to the west. The chimney smoke from the cabin just now barely visible as the woman heads toward the cluster of homes, and small buildings. As she approaches the city, she can hear loud yelling, and screaming coming from the gates. She stops in shock as the clear sky is polluted by black smoke risisng from the very place she was to go. She can see people runninng towards her end of the road, screaming a blood turning scream. As they approach her shocked state, she is informed that a tribe of Orcs, hundred in their numbers, had attacked the city, and were killing everyone in it. The grandmother, in fear of the infants safety, quickly turned back towards the safe stone cabin.
This woman, being on the early side of 50, hadn't had much life in her. She walked, as fast as she could, pushing the cart with the wailing baby inside. The gaining Orcs had left the burning city, chasing down the fleeing citizens, cutting them all down, one by one. The grandmother hurried, begging faster folks to take the cart to the cabin down the road. The panicked people ignored the slow woman, running for thier own lives. The Orcs gaining now much closer, the dark creases of the thick skin were visible by the fleeing woman. The cart wobbled, and a small pebble on the ground caused a wheel to loosen, eventually hurling the cart a few feet, were it lands on it's side. The woman, in desparity, hurries to the wreckage. The baby lies quiet, still wrapped in it's blanket. A small red dot forms from inside the cloth wrap. The dot growing larger, and the red becoming darker, and thicker. The woman opens the blanket, the infant rests upon her arms as blood seeped from it's nose, it's skin turning pale, cold, lifeless.
The woman turned to see how the Orcs had advanced throught the thicket of fleeing people. They were near. The woman, still holding the breathless child, continues her hurried way to the stone cabin. She bursts through the door, sending a chilled breeze through the room.
The woman that lay sleeping, awoke in a violent twitch. She looked over at her mother, holding her child. In a sleepy daze, she had asked what was wrong. Her mother, opens her mouth to speak, but is interupted by the sight of a crudely made blade, being thrusted through the torso of the old woman. A loud scream was heard from inside that Cabin. After a silent moment, The dazed woman reaches the doorway, a longsword in hand with orc blood dripping from the tip. She could finally see straight, and from instinct, she leapt from the door, joining in the fight that few of the remainnig citizens had offered. She was skilled, practiced, and lethal. Her blade sliced and impailed nearly a hundred orcs, wearing only a blue robe she had become acustomed to.After the orcs sounded for retreat, due to the town militia finally answering their call of duty, the woman ran as fast as she had ever ran back to the cabin, unaware of what she'd find. She sprinted to the doorway, entering with a sliding halt. She there saw her mother, lifeless and cold. She hurried to the small bed that lay next to hers, not knowing the baby hadn't been asleep for hours. She found the empty crip, tossing the padding out, hoping to find her child. She again looked at her mother, laying atop a fimilar blanket. She moved her mothers body, rolling the corpse onto it's back. Her eyes, carved in stone the sight they revealed to her. The cold infant stared up, dried blood on it's nose and upper lip, fresh blood stained the blanket from it's slain grandmother. The woman, having no thoughts, no feelings, sat there, holding the baby for near half a day.
A man from the nearby city had come to inspect any damage on the farm. He approached the cabin with the door still flung open. The fireplace was still and cold. The man entered the dark cabin, seeing four bodies on the floor. He stares at the stillness, thinking they were all dead. He noticed movement from one of the bodies. A woman, shoulder length dark hair, stroking the head of the smallest of the four bodies. He lit a candle atop the table. The dim light danced in the pools of drying blood. The woman stroking the head of an obviously dead child, next to an obviously dead woman, and a violently killed orc. The man…shocked from this sight, managed to call a few clerics up to the cabin, where the empty woman walked into town holding her child.
A few days and several funerals later, the woman sits in the militia barracks, writing a letter on a small piece of parchment. She rolls the parchment, tying it with a small piece of red twine. She pays a gnomish traveler a hefty sum to deliver it to the addresses building. This woman is cold, empty, and beside her heart beating, dead in every sense of the word.