Blood in Payment - Tales of the Crimson Guard
-
Vashere frowned at this the first lot of recruits. Their first trial would be an easy one. They would all pass simply for trying. But they did not know that. He smiled as he motioned to Belma'r.
"Strike at me with your magic. Use everything you have. Try to put me down. I will not strike back."
The little hin's confusion was at first apparent but then he went to the task. Spell upon spell were cast each either doing little harm or at times failing outright. Then spells of acid, each causing Vashere to wince. One of his weaknesses was acid but he bore the pain and waited for the mageling to deplete himself. Even many of those still failed.
The hin seemed confused and slightly amazed at each failed spail. Finally, after using several of his last most minor spells, the hin admitted he was unable to do more.
Nodding, Vashere acknowledged his passage beyond the first trial. Turning to Kente, another applicant he told the boy to strike him and told him to attempt to land a blow. Without drawing his blade he faced the boy and anticipated every swing. No blow landed.
"You will improve. Good."
The boy's trial was over and his disappointment shown. He had wanted to land a blow at the least. He had not.
"Valitis. You have but to strike me." And again, no blow wold find its mark. Two blades the elf wielded. Each time Vashere parried or dodged. Again he called an end. The elf seemed more impressed than disappointed as Kente had been.
"Bow. You will use your blade. In the end it is the last option. You will have a chance to use your namesake soon enough. I have seen you fight though. You are skilled enough I shall strike back."
Bow asked Vashere if he was in need of healing for he still bore the marks of the magics of Belma'r. Vashere smiled slightly and said he would accept healing if offered but that whether Bow wished him to have it was his decision. He could with hold it or grant it but he would still fight in a moment.
Bow seemed to consider for a moment and then he was casting. His magics healed Vashere only partially and then the fight began. It was quick. No blow was landed by Bow and four quick strikes had him staggering. Vashere stepped back signalling it was done. Bow seemed surprised to Vashere. He did not seem to have expected it to end so quickly.
"Ronie." The warrior nodded and stepped forward, prepared. Vashere simply parried for the first few swings judging the young warrior, then he attacked. The attack must have been unexpected for after two the warrior was down, the second striking the man's helmed head. Vashere frowned realising that he might have hit the man too hard. Staggering back, Ronie fell to the ground.
Vashere rushed up to him checking him. He was dazed and winded. He would be fine. The applicants all looked at him differently now. He smiled and removed his helm.
"Good. You have passed the first trial. Soon you will be faced with the second trial."
There was much discussion and consideration. Vashere had seen each and learned much of their character, of their mettle. The run from Norwick to Peltarch, the query of the weaknesses apparent to each applicant in the Peltarch forward outpost. He was learning them.
A few days later Kente would fall to goblins while hunting with companions. Vashere would hear of it and be somewhat saddened. Kente was his nephew. Belma'r would die a few days after that to a Bugbear raid. His companions would return him. The first batch of applicants already were thinning. Vashere wondered how many would make it through all three trials. He wondered how many would make it through the year as a squire to the Guard. He wondered how many would make it as Knights. He wondered how many would fall in the dark days ahead.
Vashere sighed and pushed it all aside. Battle and war required casualties. It was his job to make sure they were as ready as he could make them and then to make sure as few died as necessary. He would honor Tempus and the Red Knight and pray that each of his warriors would one day serve at their right hand. He looked at his reddened armor then the inside of his shield where he had scrawled a creed. The applicants might soon have a chance to learn it.
Red for the blood we spill.
Honor blood be it ours or those we fight.
For coin, for pride, for life,
in darkness we offer light.
Honor, Glory, Victory.
We are the Crimson Guard.Smiling slightly Vashere watched a small squirrel rush up to him carrying a small message. Chuckling lightly he reached down and accepted the note. The squirrel then twitched and darted off, the magics binding it to this task done, it's presence around a human frightening it off.
A note from Valin. An old ruined tower a top a hill in the Central Plains. Valin had pitched camp there. Nodding, Vashere accepted this was ideal. There the Guard would pitch camp.
Norwick was under the rule of Jandor and Vashere's opinions of that man were no secret. Peltarch was too large and decadent. The Guard would find work there but if based there would likely be expected to favor Peltarch's offered contracts. Jiydd itself was a peaceful town and being near it was a boon, but being within it might again cause problems. The hill would be their camp.
Smiling slightly once more, Vashere set out for the Camp. Reaching down he felt for the reassuring touch of his blade. The handle seemed warm as it always had to him. The worn hilt felt comforting and he pressed on seeking to make his way to the Guard's new camp.
-
Ormpur hadn't changed in three months. But whereas on the first trip Vashere had wanted to see what lay within the walls, this trip he sought knowledge of what lie outside. Many places of interest were looked over and within one cave there were even signs of some predator but no predator found. But it was the tower that proved deadly. Empty Erok had said. It wasn't empty this day.
The trap erupted into a cloud of poison. Vashere coughed as he pulled his helmet on. He had inhaled some. The helm's protective magics kept him from inhaling more but the poison was doing its task. Coughing some, he leaned against the wall slightly as he allowed the poison to finish it's task. He would live it seemed.
Erok and Baragorr both seemed to be suffering fromt he poison as well. Kalina and Drelan had not been near enough. Kalina pressed on and examined the door then declared it clear. Vashere pressed on with his blade at the ready.
As he stepped through the door two things happened. First Erok's eyes bulged and he fell, the poison reaching his heart. Then a massive ogre rounded the corner already casting some foul spell. Once more Vashere's life was likely saved by his armor as the spell wrapped around him and failed.
With a snarl of anger Vashere threw himself at the Ogre Mage, Baragorr by his side, Kalina and Drelan supporting from behind with bow and spell. A few very precise strikes and the ogre was dead. Another stepped into the hall from a room. Erok's body was still visible to Vashere. Things were not going well. He ordered a withdrawal and stepped back through the door and down the stairs.
Vashere watched the stairs waiting for the ogre to come down. As he did he began gathering up Erok's things then quickly tossed the large half-orc over his shoulder. The ogre suddenly appeared beside him as a hazy apparition. No one saw him but Vashere it seemed. Setting the body down he rushed the ogre who did not seem aware of him landing three rapid and near deadly blows. The ogre retreated back up the stairs and Vashere did not follow.
Grabbing Erok once more he set out for the exit. Everyone left but Vashere tossed the corpse out the door and slammed it shut telling no one to come back in.
–------------
Vashere exited the tower and closed the door behind him. Baragorr was carrying Erok now. They asked what had happened while Vashere was inside. Parlay he said. But when the ogre mage cast at him, Vashere told them he had attacked the ogre once more, forcing it to retreat again.
The four with Erok's body over Baragorr's shoulder, returned to Ormpur. They had lost Erok and were all injured. A return trip was not feasible. Morosely, the band stood around Ormpur hoping a solution would present itself. It did so in the guise of a wandering cleric.
While Vashere was convinced this cleric happening along was not chance, he could not turn away the offer of help. The price however was the coin for a diamond and the head of the ogre mage in the tower. And so, the band returned to the Tower.
Opening a door in the upper tower, a much larger ogre mage presented itself. It's skin was as stone as it roared, "You killed my brother!" His roar was answered by Bargorr's own, "You killed my brudder, too!"
The battle seemed doomed as every blade and arrow that struck the ogre did nothing but chip at stone. But with each blow that stone was chipping away. Then blade found flesh. The ogre fell.
There had been yet another ogre in the tower and some gold. Erok was returned and the band made it back to Jiyyd. Another tale ends while another begins.
-
Vashere stepped back quickly avoiding the frosty breath of a winter wolf. Erok took the full might of it however pushing through it. His axe was quick and held the wolf's attention. Vashere's blade was quicker and came from the side sliding easily behind the beasts neck and up into the soft tissue beneath. The beast fell and Vashere withdrew the blade as he glanced around for more foes.
Kull and Baragorr stepped forward to join Erok and Vashere, the howl that had held them in place a fading memory. Cal the elven archer brought up the rear his bow at the ready. The young elf had not been expecting such a dangerous trek, having followed despite being warned.
Their foes defeated, the five men took note of the plumes of smoke in the distance. Ormpur lay just ahead. They had made it to their destination. Something moved in the trees but was gone when Vashere turned to look. Whatever it was, it did not come out.
Ormpur was small. It took only a few minutes to visit everything of interest within the walls. Vashere's scouting of the village done the band gathered ready to leave when a small boy rushed into the walls.
"Trolls!" Hurried words with one of the townsfolk named Weshley and Vashere quickly interrupted offering his help. Weshly accepted and the band began planning. Before they could leave the walls the trolls came in. Vashere ordered the young elf Cal to run and he did. The four warriors charged in and engaged the trolls while Cal fired from a distance.
The trolls fell quickly and their bodies were burned when chanting was heard just outside the gates. A massive red skinned troll was visible casting spell after spell as obvious, and some not so obvious, protective spells fired. His protections complete, the next spell was offensive.
The spell, whatever it was, appeared for a moment and rushed towards vashere then failed suddenly. The Troll seemed surprised but began casting other spells. Then the warriors were on him.
The fight was fierce, the large troll a chieftan of it's now fallen tribe. Every warrior but Vashere was forced to flee and the pair, a troll chieftan and red armored warrior stood face to face in battle. As one, the three warriors who had retreated lunged back into battle. Bargorr's axe flashed from the side and removed the troll's head in one might blow. Fire was the next step. The troll chieftan would not recover.
On the return trip, still heavily wounded, Baragorr would fall as would the elf who had been told not to follow. Still, Vashere was saddened. The elf had fought well and bravely. A sad end for one so young. Baragorr would be returned but the elf's spirit had travelled on. While the elf was not even a Blade, Vashere still counted it a loss to the Order. He knew more would fall in the days ahead.
-
Vashere had gone through many applicants. He had bested them all. Many might be proud of the fact. He was simply tired. The last two had proven a challenge. Still, the ranks of the Blades were growing quickly. Over a dozen men had enlisted.
Applying a bandage to a very large and nasty looking welt above his ribs, Vashere thought about each of the applicants to date. He knew that at least one of them was like to have joined for reasons concealed. One or more of them likely served some other order and sought to infiltrate the Blades. Vashere sighed and began wrapping his own bandages. Whether it was the pain or the tedium of the task, his mind drifted.
He was in the Hall of the Alliance, within the library there. He had not been there in many years. Much coin, sweat and blood had gone into the building of the place. But it was this room he most enjoyed. The work tomes and ancient manuscripts. The small back room held an assortment of writings specifically focused on the history of the noble families of the old empires.
Drifting…
The field was covered in blood and the sound of blade and spell resounded the Nars. The dragon's roar was of pain and death, Vashere's blade lodged in the beasts throat, the great Kashan surprised the death blow was not his. The dragon's blood felt warm, it felt alive. Vashere felt alive, his youthful face bearing none of the signs of age he now carried.
Drifting...
The Demonic entity strode through the town of Norwick and all who stood before it fled in terror. It's presence was dreadful and Vashere himself had been forced to flee. Safely away he began to sling large wicked throwing axes at the demon. One after the other they found their mark. Most seemed to bounce off the creature but every so often one found its mark. Armored warriors and robe wizards in black and gold charged forward to meet the demon. It would howl a death shriek and be imprisoned by Spellweaver. The Defiler would be trapped once more.
Drifting...
The woman before him was beautiful. She was perfection. Her name was Alanariala of Silverymoon, daughter of one of the lords of that city. An elf, and the most splendid creature he had ever seen. His blood warmed and his eyes met hers.
Drifting...
The voice was seductive. It spoke of many things. It made many offers. The place was a comfort but the voice was not despite its offerings. He hd to answer however.
Vashere snapped to the present and looked down at his torso realising he had finished. Grunting he sat the excess bandages aside and began the process of putting his armor back on.
