3. In the boarshead....

In the boarshead....

  • E

    The man laid on his cot starring at the cieling, scratching his red beard as he did so, sleep eluding him once again at the moment. Another quest failed, possibly due to the Legion's assault. Several weeks of lurking on the orcish plains studying his enemy, waiting for the one he sought, waisted.

    He exhaled deeply.

    The fighting had been beneficial today. He had gained the honor of fighting beside one of the greater warriors in the land. The experience had been fruitful, he had learned more especially in how to effectively lead. The group had only suffered one casualty and had caused much more. He calculated the ratio the best he could in his head.

    "about one to thirty-five..", he said a loud. Not the best he had seen or read about but given the circumstances not shabby. The man ran a finger idly down the center of his chest. He had been slow, he could have lead a similiar group if he had been faster, in fact was planning on it. In the end however, he knew fate had worked out better far more experience being provided in the time allotted. Besides, an army took coin. Something he seemed to be in short supply of. His fortune always rebounded, almost as fast as that damned bard that seldom seemed to be short of coin, but as quickly as it would come it would quickly drain again. In recently weeks, almost always to someone he barely knew. He cursed. He knew he could be one of the richest men around, or at least leading one of the best funded independent militant groups around if he'd just let the fallen lay, and stop using his money for "beneficial ends". He was no paladin, hells he was no knight. He had tortured some, broken his word more times than he'd like to admit, burned buildings for nothing but calculated gain, and had waded through bodies up to his knees more than most soliders his age had ever done, and worst of all felt nothing as he had done every bit of it. Yet he couldn't let go…. He was no longer a guard,could never become more or even what he had once been, had nothing more to lose,yet he couldn't let go. He sighed heavily as he thought about his new ~charge~ in the room beneath him.

    "There you go again...", he thought to himself. She was no charge and he knew it. A favor yes, charge no. A hard one at that. Fragile, non-listening, and one of the daftest ones he had ever known in the practical arts. He sighed again, his mind focusing now on the road back to Peltarch, or really anywhere out of Norwick. The path would be bloody in all likely hood yet it was not his concern. His mind followed the pass to the lake. He had almost forgotten in all the excitement. He had a ritual to complete.

    The pieces were moving and he had forgotten the most important promise of all. He chuckled slightly though he didn't know why. "Can't let go of that either can ye?" He fuddled with the chain around his neck.

    He thought of a ship across a body of water that he still couldn't envision. He wondered what it looked like as the shipwrights explained to workers what to add and where. He thought of the ones that had gotten off the ship, wondering if they had had more luck in finding what they were looking for. "Lady.. Allow them to see what they need to when the time comes.." he muttered in a prayer to himself as he closed his eyes feeling the sting the moisture brought.

    Edit: Meant to put udner Sleep but obviously didn't.. Please forgive the stupidty. 😃 Lack of caffiene does bad bad things.

  • E

    The Burning of the Journal

    Drelan sat in a nice padded chair in front of the fire at the Alliance Inn. The keeper had been kind enough to let him stay there through the night while he retired to his quarters, finishing off the precious few bottles of moonshine and elven wine he had left. Drelan had finally found a place that he could quietly ponder the life that lay before him. He had done everything he could, fought the good fight, and yet still as always everyone ended up with at least something they sought except for himself. He knew a bard would disagree with him and say he had gained freedom but in reality he knew he hadn't. He had merely severed the limb. He could still feel the invisible tethers as he ran his hand accross the worn journal. Perhaps he gained a few moments of bliss on this supposed happy day, but it was miniscule in the face of all lost. At least he had been able to maintain the illusion of peace of mind long enough to restore some semblence of happiness to his sister, and though he probably shouldn't have he offered the lady a drunken prayer for that small victory. All for love, just not his own. He smirked in contempt of the lectures he had been raised on how love was some beautious thing that deserved protection above all else. It didn't reward its sacrifices well. He almost laughed at the warning the old sailor had given him, more wise evidentally than any sage or other elder. He was weary, tired of the fight that he never gained ground in. He looked down at the book full of words and thoughts below him, his tool for rebirth if he should ever need it again. Good, trustworthy, reliable words, yet all for something he could feel didn't exist anymore. He threw the book into the fire its weathered pages wrinkling as the life was sucked from them and it was turned to nonconsequential ash. Drelan finished off his bottle of moonshine and set it down on the floor. Birthdays were never good days.

  • E

    _The lovely sound of metal blade quickly sliding through flesh and anguished scream of an enemy fallen filled the air. Drelan, covered in blood and gore turned to survey his prey. They had attacked him, they had fallen, all as his training had made him to create, puddles of blood an destruction. He wondered in his mind if he could find the abyss that he had been sent to find. Then he remembered.. it mattered not.. not anymore. No more false hope would he harbor, even though some still painfully remained in his chest. Why couldn't he get rid of it? He was told he was.. would always be second best.. yet again. Yet he was asked to stay? Why? That's what frustrated him the most. Asked to stay, as he wanted to deep down,and yet even if he did he would still not be the one thought of even though his mind was always set on one target. He would be there yes, but never really the same.. never equal.. not as she said.. always the pathetic groveling second.. never a tie. He cursed all the bardic tales he had ever heard. This had happened before. Only this time it was not a god or duty that won out over him, but someone he least expected. What was even worse.. is his friend had seemed to have known, and never once had she told him and instead allowed him to play the fool in her odd little game. Still she was family… And yet.. he could blame no one involved.. and as hard as he tried he still hoped. Hoped it was not their fault, and for things he knew he should not hope for given what had happened.

    Drelan mentally kicked himself and he ducked a hatchet that flew over his head. Hadn't he said he would think of these things no more? His fate was laid out, he knew not to fight it anymore, it would always end the same.. but yet he couldn't get it out of his head.. he still loved her, even now even more so thanthe other two. Blade met the neck of the hobgoblin's who shot had been so poor and its head went rolling. He hoped the pain would stop when he let the fire take him. Yes, searing helped seal all wounds._

  • E

    Around him sat death, blood, and the threat of starvation. He had tried to be patient really he had, but the war was eating at his nerves. More and more he realized he was correct that the government of the once standing peltarch was little more than an inefficient piece of backstabbing hidden garbage that sucked all glory to themselves and admitted no failures in their little political dance. Had they listened to his reccomendations? No. They had all merely sat not planning and staying at the mercy that the gods wouldnt' decide to boot them from their home, while ordering him about to do menial tasks that would not change the ending. Was he right of the source? No, but if his reccomendations had been taken he was certain the casualties would not have been as high as all had retreated to the camp. Even now after trying to help the city in everyway he could before its fall and now, he was kept out of the meetings trusted no more than the lowly commoner that did nothing. All his service previously, ignored merely because he did not carry a title with his name. He had warned them about the attack on the wall, told them to wait, so that they could actually hold it and to prepare for larger numbers. They did not and were forced to retreat, accomplished little more than burning the enemies siege equipment that would no doubt help, but was far from the maximum damage they could have caused. He had gotten into a heated argument with Talgrath, who evidentally knew nothing of his exploits, though Drelan did not dare tell him what he had warned else the camp risk mutiny at the incompetence of it all. No more would he lurk in the shadows doing the will of individuals that asked him, all that bred was no rewards, their glory, and no better treatment when the time came. No he'd hire a bard from now on and flood the bloody inns with every little exploit blown hugely out of proportion. He sighed knowing that he had not the coin to hire one, but feeling that his destruction would reign down upon the city, whether Talgrath or any other cared it to or not. If it was with them, fine. If it was with an army of his own from outside the camp, fine as well, they had no say over such things and it would not endanger the camp to mutiny as he had inferred. He remembered the smell of sea breeze at his nose and wondered if the Queen was really with him. It did not matter, the sound of casualties without the most benefit gained, and the flames above the city reminded him what he must do, one way or another. It was the only way to keep her safe and maybe make up for what he had done, though he doubted it would stop the wrenching feeling in his chest, hurting him more by the moment.

  • E

    Bah, things had been so pleasant, actually happy, even for him. The lasses that had been gone for so long had returned, safe sound, happy, if a bit energetic from being locked on a ship for some time. He had even decided to forget his exile a bit, to live as several had told him to do. Perhaps it was fluke, but he had succeeded in distancing himself and had actually felt complete total bliss if only for a few hours. He could remember leaving the college to check on some things, promising to return back to the side of the one he left behind after finishing some pressing errands. War erupted in his absence, he came back to tents, wails of screaming people being treated surgically, and paranoia. The city of Peltarch, the one he had called home and had once decided to defend it despite its horrible glaring flaws had fallen. He could remember running up to Clandra and inquiring what had happened, and been shocked when someone he hadn't even tracked had claimed the city, the numbers of men, enemies increased. He remembered hearing as he walked up to the commanding officer to see how he could be of help, hearing that Deacon had died. He wondered who else had fallen? Lilly? Ocean? Mirk? Hells Allanon? Ana had reassured him that Deacon walked once again, and though he wanted to search desperately for the lasses he was merley told that they had been seen breathing and that he would be needed for patrols.

    How could things change so quickly? As selfish as it sounded, why couldn't he find rest? If not himself stopping him, the world was always there to do so instead. As his night at the camp progressed things did not get any better. Zyphlin organized the men, plans were made to charge the walls, all without an exit strategy since the moto was "win or die", he could remember thinking about the idiocy of it all. how stupid it was to think that total annhilation instead of returning to be able to fight another day successfully was somehow more productive in removing the evil from the city. Maya, one of the officers had given them a chance to not go after stating that the moto would be held too, but he had still gone to stand with them. For the moment it was still his war. The enemies had invaded his home, raided the shops and homes of those that had helped him, killed his friends, kidnapped his charges, no they would pay even if it meant putting the lazy worthless scum that in essence cared nothing of law and only of power back in place.

    Hours passed, and eventually the wall was indeed charged. For a change Drelan rarely called out orders. It didn't matter anymore. The men under his control had dispersed, the leaders of other organizations were in command, and though he hadn't told them he refused to die pointlessly, he still went with them to do what he could. Death he still feared not, but to die pointlessly would be a waste of all the time that any had given him. It seemed he was always firing arrows, and if not that was burning siege equipment. Fire was always his tool, his friend, and the engines burned so brightly when he was finished there would be no saving of them. And then there was the bodies. He had seen the men before. The rest did not know it, but he along with some others had fought these enemies before not all, but most of them and had tried to slow them down. Perhaps it was motivated by personal reasons, but it had always ended up helping the city in the end, and yet no one knew. Some were even threatened by some in the city often. This lingered on his mind as he pulled the body of Deacon from amongst the fallen. He had refused to stay in his tent resting and fate had made him pay for his arrogance. As much as Deacon had told him he was once like himself, he didn't believe it. He disagreed wtih him a lot, and yet he realized just how much he admired the man. Definately not for the throngs of women he seemed to have following him, for the endless work he seemed to give him, or for some of the questionable decisions he made. Their goals had never been that different, and Deacon had definately given him the chance he had promised, even if it wasn't the type of knight the bards sang of and were plastered in halls. Deacon was one of the "true" knights of Peltarch, even if many didn't know or refused to admit it. He had always been on the lines, always there when he had been asked to do something, even though several still tried to throw him in jail often and he was never really given credit for what he accomplished except for maybe the sneaking rumor about in the dock taverns.

    Thoughts weighed heavily on his mind as he carried Deacon's body back on his shoulders, back to the camp to bring him back if the soul still willed. He owed him that much, and he hated crying lasses.

    If the world was evil, unfair ways had to be used in order to combat unfair ways, and preventing one problem would only allow another to take its place, what was the point? Knight or no, Deacon had showed him that you could only hold of the tide for so long, the meetings he had eavesdropped on showing him that there was no victory only lesser defeats, because people refused to have it any other way as the stakes would be much higher. Drelan couldn't help but smile slightly at Deacon's earlier mention of sailing accross the lake and starting a new town somewhere instead of dying for one that seemed it could not be saved from either its enemies or itself. Didn't sound bad really.

  • E

    The night was young and the occasional shout and scuffle could be heard even though Drelan wasn't outside. He pulled a book out of his pack that he hadn't looked at in some time. He flipped through the pages each having his own hand writing and began to write on a blank page..

    _It has been many, many nights since I have written in this book. I did not wish to weaken its power, as it has given me much insight from which my mind lacked. Still with the recent changes, and perhaps only wanting to sort my thoughts out I will continue. I've traveled these lands for what almost seems as three, maybe four years. I do not know, I'm still no better a keeper of time. Yet recently I realize, I am still alone. I watch the people here, always drifting almost never standing for themselves or anything else until it grows almost to late, and even then only a few. Lilly once told me that every time and people needed its heroes, looked for them, yearned for them. She is a bard, but perhaps on this she is right. The people drift only until someone brings them to do otherwise, or does what they will not. Since this, dare I say potential weakness, is so widespread it makes me wonder if my visions, the writings in this journal of my home, are actually true. Pattern would dictate it unlikely that my home stood as vigilant as I remember against its threats so different from the places here, yet it still seems true. Perhaps my mind has clouded the truth in the lapses it has taken.

    Even now I hear the sounds of weakness and dishonor resonating through my room's walls. So many in this place fight from the shadows, never showing themselves, as the cowardly bandit in the wood. Never do any stand openly for fear they will be stricken down, always befriending and trusting those that do not deserve it, merely because they think it will help them reach an end and believing arrogantly that fate will leave them standing should things go awry. The events of late have proven to me, that this approach is quite wrong as even now their lax convictions could bring their doom, as they gave power to those that would break their word, not uphold their oaths. I am alone. I cannot even speak to the paladins of late for my rage soon boils. As much as I try, as much as I peer into the shadows of this land to learn, I cannot bring myself to live its way. It just feels unnatural to do so, and yet I can hear Garend chiding me for my brash youth. The world is after all, rarely as optimistic as some would choose to believe. Fair in that it naturally has very few real rules, but the very chaos is given to everyone.

    Still it is no matter. The lady has not heard my prayers lately as I've not been able to give them, my place of ritual now occupied by a traitorous force not fit of the family it was born from as plagued as the mother was. I have traveled far, fought in great battles, lost far more than I have gained, even bent my oaths.. perhaps foolishly. No more. If I must stand alone so be it. It would not be different from my past journies. Lady give me insight, as my last oath will be kept in blood or victory. I only hope she still watches over those I cannot."_

  • E

    "Not as I expected… But good enough. Time enough for the ceremony. Shall I patch your wounds?" Lermonian asked questioningly to Grendz trying not to look at the now paralyzed and bloody man lying at his feet.

    Grendz shook his head. "No some wounds better to leave, besides best you use strength to do ceremony."

    Lermonian nodded and had Grendz lift the heavily armored body and carry it, the barbarian just now realizing how bad he was injured, to a rock and stretch him out. "I will now commence the proper tendings. Leave me to my work."

    Grendz stopped and eyed the young man. He wanted to stay and watch but he knew tradition did not allow it, and as much as he wanted his revenge he wanted to be able to return home as well. "I be in inn." Grendz took a few steps back eyeing his prey the whole time before disapearing into the inn.

    Lermonian sighed and looked down at the body now unconscious, even though his eyes still lay open. If not for the subtle breathing he'd have pronounced him dead. "An order member...." Lermonian murmured as he reached down to touch the string hanging from the man's ear. "Quite a find. If only you knew..." Lermonian sighed and with drew some bottles from his pack. "Would do my father proud to know you live. Pity he will never know." He mixed the bottles contents in a small bowl swirling the mixture then taking a whiff of the mixture. It was as he had been taught, quite strong. The young man grunted as he unfastened the plates and slid the chain shirt off of the man and recieved a first glance at his wounds including a very nasty shoulder one where the axe had penetrated it still festering with the green liquid. "Shragre weed... Well you're quite unfitting for any ceremony like that." Was not soon until the man had with drew even more things from his pack and mixed them together and poured it over the wound washing it with it, and bandaging it tightly and tending to the other wounds. Lermonian sat and prayed over the body, praying that the abyss would soon take the soul and do with it as it pleased, never allowing it to rest. Grendz watched from his room window, but the man's prayers went for hours, chants, sayings, blessings, curses, all until even his eyes drew to a close.

    Some hours later....

    Lermonian peaked over his shoulder to the inn adn muttered some words, moving his hand over his eyes his lights shimmering briefly as he squinted at the windows. "Justice done.. Is Justice served..." He whispered to the wind then leaned over to the body and lifted the man's head as he poured the contents of the bowl he had mixed almost a half day before into his mouth.. slowly. He then leaned over to his ear and muttered in some language doubtful that any would understand anymore.

    OST>Flame take you, and set you a light. May you bring no more dishonor in your death.

    Lermonian then withdrew a blade and plunged it deep, before standing and walking towards the inn, carrying the blade with him.

    One of Grendz's tired eyes openend slightly and peered around his room. He heard breathing he was sure of it. The air was draftier than before as well, his eye moved over to the door. It was open. His hand reached down as if to scratch his arse, only to stop suddenly and fall limp his blood beginning to soak into the sheets. Some mumbled words from a raspy broken voice reaching his ears right before the abyss took him.

    "Flame take you. And hold back the nightmares and darkness until all lights fall." A bloody blade dropped beside him and the door to his room closed.

  • E

    It wasn't long afterwards that Grendz had shoed Lermonian away and led an uneasy Drelan to a rock even letting him sit. They talked quietly, mainly Grendz though Drelan seemed to answer a question from time to time. Lermonian just sat there watching them from a distance confused. He had heard how the two were friends. He knew the man that Grendz had hunted had almost joined his father's order, but still this sudden civillity confused him. Grendz had been dead set on having his head and making him pay. That is all he had talked about on the whole journey accross the waves. He wondered what they talked about but did not dare approach. Even if his rank and bloodline meant something in these lands he doubted it would protect him from Grendz's blade or hand should he be angered, so he was left to watch and wonder if he would have yet another match to judge, or a Relekev to prepare for. The two men seemed to talk for hours, the light from above growing dim, Drelan occasionally leaving himself vulnerable for a few seconds or minutes to try to patch an obvious wound though evidentally not having or trying to avoid showing the more sensitive ones. Grendz eventually seemed to forget about Lermonian and he laid down to rest, Drelan eventually sinking to the ground and resting on the ground, but not removing his armor. The talks had evidentally not meant peace, that or the red headed man was just too exhausted to move. There were after all, several blows he had endured that Lermonian was certain was going to send him to the abyss, not that they had succeeded. When the two men closed his eyes he disappeared to get water from the stream he had spotted not far away. It was a good walk, many of what was called Eastlander's in the pass not that any bothered him. He returned a few hours before day break lugging full waterskins but as he neared back to the place he had left he heard some very loud words being carried through the air, mainly curses and insults.

    Lermonian picked up speed too see what had happened, as they came into view he sighted a limping grendz, blood seeming to trail from his lower right leg and a glaring Drelan shoving Grendz off him a blade being the only thing between an axe blade and his head.

    "DIHONORABLE, BASTARD! Kill me in my sleep were you? " Drelan insulted, saying the latter part quite out of breath. "I'VE SURVIVED THE ABYSS FARRRRR TO LONG TO FALL LIKE THAT!"

    Grendz merely growled and fetched another axe from his belt, Lermonian could see Drelan's eyes dart to it and look at it questioningly as if not expecting it. Lermonian found the choice quite odd as well. Sure he had seen the barbarian fight and train with such weapons, but usually he used something larger that allowed him to bring his full weight to bear a very large sword or axe by tradition. He had even seen some of the new recruits from the academy almost best him occasion when he used such weapons. It struck him as odd that Grendz, would choose such weapons now against an experienced opponent, if a wounded one at that. He didn't have much more time to ponder that as Grendz lept forward as if going for Drelan's head but he never quite got there due to a blade always pointed at his chest daring the barbarian to try it and save him the effort of having to push forward on a blade. The landing on the ground seemed to be failed consideration as well, the barbarian wincing in pain as he landed on his injured foot and leg.

    "Serves you right, you ox." Drelan taunted again but it seemed to only inflame the barbarian and the glare in is eyes suddenly grew worse, suprising in itself as Lermonian didn't think it was possible. Grendz lunged forward again, and Drelan met his weight with his shiled and turned his blade retreating with him, and in fact making his threat true taking blood with it as the barbarian pierced his own side upon the blade. Grendz grunted and turned, it obvious he was not going to do something as stupid again and began to advance slowly occasionally testing by moving his arm forward as if to bring one of his axes to bear, Drelan backed up as he did so but missed a rock behind him and stumbled giving the barbarian his chance. Grendz's axe came down as drelan stumbled, catching the blade but falling to a knee as he was forced down muttering a thanks to the gods that he had managed not to fall backwards. It was hard for Lermonian to see what happened next, but all he could hear was the sound of metal against chain and the occasional grunt of pain or stumble as a blade hit true causing damage to the soft flesh beneath the metal. Grendz was quite wounded, more than Lermonian had seen him since the last war, but in the end Drelan just wasn't fast enough, nor his heart stout to meet the task. Every blow from Grendz weakened him greatly, his shield, and sword seemed to become as heavy as dead wood and it wasn't long until he could see his arm shake every time he tried to raise his blade. Finally Grendz drove an axe down hard into Drelan's shoulder as he slumped to the ground, the man actually screaming in pain, tears comming to his eyes for the first time during any of the wounds that Lermonian had seen him take. Lermonian could see his arm tighten as if to raise the blade for one last blow before he fell, but it never raised higher than a few inches and as Grendz ripped his axe free taking a plate with it as he went Drelan fell forward horribly limp his face red. Lermonian assumed the man dead, but Grendz began to speak to the man. "Dishonor? How liquid feel? Bring memory?" Lermonian saw what appeared to be twitch from the fallen man, though he would have taken it more meaningfully if he had known just how much effort it was taking to even do that. Drelan gave no reply. "Weaken of blood. Stiff of body. No will." Grendz replied as if adding to a list before reaching down to turn the body over, not an ounce of resistance given. "Better. Now you feel too." The barbarian leaned over his prey's face whose eyes were still open and looked down into them, smiling at the greenish look appearing on his prey's lips.
    –---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
    Drelan watched the barbarian's face not having much choice to do otherwise. He mentally swore that if the Lady would only give him strength to raise his blade one more time, he'd silence the fool before the abyss took him. He tried to move his arm, but it was as if he wasn't even in his own body anymore, except for he could still feel the pain from the various places over his tired body. He wondered as he sat there bleeding if when taken to the abyss it was more of yank or a slow seeping into your very being. He was beginning to believe the latter.

  • E

    "Never be ashamed of the destruction you bring." -Corana, Priestess of Umberlee
    –-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    Grendz watched carefully as the men charged thinking how stupid it was for the men not to hold formation. With the halbred wielded by one of their members they would have a range advantage, why not take it? Oh well they would see the error in their ways soon eough he thought. He watched as Drelan suddenly bolted as they had almost closed, right into one with an axe his whole weight behind the blow his foot moving quickly to the man's heals. The axeman fell with a grunt and he watched Drelan spin, the sound of a point piercing the wooden shield heard just as his blade fell right into the man's armor.. hard, seeming to find a weakness in the material and broke through. His prey yanked hard on the sword pulling it loose and a mace found home with his gut sending him sprawling more than a few steps a falling halbred not to far behind. He knew what his prey had hoped to do, down a man, remove a blade, and hope the priest would take time to mend the now gurgling man. However, he only succeeded in half of that, the priest did not seem to intent on trying to make the fallen man useable again. Tarin could only watch in awe, not believing one had already fallen so quickly. Was not Tyr supposed to protect the just? Why would this murderer not be the first to fall? This was all that he could think of as he watched Drelan back pedal to the edge of the circle trying to gain time to regain his balance and composure. The sound of metal dragging accross metal could be heard as Drelan risked a blow a the priest and failed miserably, instead hitting the man's massive shield. Again the halberd came this time in an upoward arc and caught his torso right above the hip. Grendz could see the blade skid accross the chain and break through it finding home if shallowly in his prey's side. The priest smiled as Drelan winced obviously distracted again taking a moment to bring his mace to bear. It hit hard on his shoulder plate but it didn't seem to dull the pain that followed.

    Grendz frowned slightly. His prey had had a lucky start but it was beginning to wane, if he was not more careful he would fall, he could already see the sign of fatigue and pain on his prey's face. Grendz's ear perked as he picked up the faint muttering of his prey saying something of a gift for umberlee and watched him change his focus suddenly parrying blows and not going for the offensive, again buying time. Grendz wondered if it would help or hurt him in the end as blood could now be seen appearing even further down his prey's armor, not that he seemed to pay it much heed.

    Drelan's eyes watched the two immediate threats carefully. Not a hint of emotion shown except for an odd look in the eyes. His head turned slightly to keep them both in view as they began to circle him, evidentally thinking that surrounding him would provide an advantage as he would only be able to defend one side well. The halberdier suddenly jabbed forward, Drelan's blade moved down to knock it aside but didn't seem to hit it with enough force. Grendz could see his prey bite his lip in rage, his shield hand twist to grab the shaft of the halberd and his other bring his blade in a wild attempt to strike the man's head. Some god must have been with him that day, as he reached his target, if just barely and hit with far more effect than expected. The man buckled and began to fall and the sound of metal ripping from chain was heard as his prey pulled free planning to follow after the man but not having the strength to do it fast enough and instead was toppled once again by the priest, this time a blow to the ribs. Grendz focused more intently at the occurence, that priest was fighting quite well, better than either of the two warriors. He wondered if he should tell Lermonian to call the fight over, so that he would get his chance, but he was a generous man. If these men could extract vengence for the death of the man's brother so be it.

    Again his prey rose, though seeming much more weary this time, but still managing to position his shield properly again holding his sword perfectly vertical to the ground. He watched as Drelan slowly began to move forward again, as if realizing it wouldn't take much more to fell him. The priest's mace came again but he seemed ready for it this time and caught it with his shield at a very planned angle, but Drelan seemed to just suddenly shove past him and the clanging of metal could be heard again as his nimble blade met the pole of the halbred each time moving a little lower from the head. Until he finally closed and found something much more valuable to strike. Grendz watched as how his prey changed the way he was holding his sword and successfully pierced the man's back and forced him to the ground to lie wtih his friend. Drelan's blade was not so slow this time and he quickly yanked it free again and swung at the priest hard actually catching his shoulder, and what was what he thought was the sound of metal bending. The priest swung his mace to make the man back away. If he could land only one good blow he could probably fell him. Drelan began to test the Priests patience making light blows on the shield occasionally lunging for an arm only to watch to the priest reposition his massive shield. The priest grinned and swung hard, but his weapon was merely caught by a shield and a blade quickly find its way to his arm, much more following as the man pressed into him, hoping to get inside his shield. The sword hilt came down on the unarmored face of the priest and he fell back, and tried to call on Tempus's aid, but the blade found home and seemed to change to simply flogging the man until he two finally fell, from a hard slash to the neck.

    Tarin squirmed as the man approached him, extending the sword as he went until he brought it to his neck. "Hells?! no need to.." his head was sent rolling moments later and Grendz could see his prey quickly reach into a belt pouch and withdraw a bottle of something and drink heavily.

    Grendz whispered to Lermonian, and the robed man went over to the fallen to see if anything could be done to patch them back but all had bled to death. Lermonian merely shook his head, as he exited the circle Drelan gasping as he quickly uncorked another bottle and downed it as well.

    "The accused... stands innocent..." Lermonian announced quietly to the two remaining men. Drelan's gaze then came to rest on Grendz, dropping his empty bottle to the ground as he did so. Grendz clapped, "Good fight. Impressive, even if were youngbloods."

    "same would have happened to you."

    "Oh?" Grendz smiled. "That why you drink healing water now?"

    "Only so I don't bleed to death before you get your turn." Drelan replied with more than a hint of sarcasm.

    Grendz nodded. "No. First we talk."

  • E

    The heavy door of the Alliance Arms Inn swung open. The sound of rain could be heard hitting the ground outside. Grendz entered heavy furs hanging over and tied around his chain mail. As he entered the floor could be heard creaking under his weight. Grendz stepped forward a few more large steps and peered at the inn keeper, Hendry. Wasn't long before more men followed all in heavy cloaks in an attempt to keep the rain off their valuable armor 5 in all, though one is merely in rags and bandages and one was in a regal robe.

    "Man named, Drelan Ashire sleep here?" Grendz asked stepping up to the inn keeper and peering down at him trying to leverage the full power of his height and appearance against him. The man cleared his throat and grabbed a note of his desk.

    "Yes," the keep swallowed, "He's here, in fact been awaiting your appearance for sometime now."

    "Which room?" Grendz asked gruffly. At that moment Drelan appeared his armor for a change shined to the point where you could even see the reflection of the fire in the corner off it, a fine linen hanging over his armor, and a red string hanging from his ear. His eyes focused on Grendz a moment as if trying to place him but not being able to. Grendz's gaze met him and seemed to in strange way realize his prey did not realize fully who he was looking at and seemed to move to say something before the man in rags, Tarin, blurted out something.

    "There he is boys! The one who killed Wesh! I think some pay back's in order."

    Drelan blinked at the words, the only sign that they had had an effect on him. Garrand's words ran through his head, don't let 'em know what you're thinking until you beat a club upside der heads Drelan replied quickly before anyone could move against him, "I am sorry for your brother's death, and I wish not to bring more grief. Allow me to do as such."

    Tarin thought a moment then growled when his mind finally comprehended the meaning of the words. "Damn bastard is trying to scare us off. I say we crack his skull open. What'd ya say Grendz?" Tarin looked at the hulking man and waited for a reply.

    Grendz?! The name ran through Drelan's head as he gaze shifted back to the hulking man, his face not showing the suprise and though he'd never admit it the fear from figuring out who his opponent was. His journal, the dreams, never… never had he pictured him quite so big, not the degree of experience in the man's eyes. Hells what have I gotten myself into…

    Grendz smiled a moment, "No… This my duty, my right."

    Drelan's mind spun. He had to do something. True he hadn't seen his enemy swing a blade yet, but his mind was calculating he was more than match for him. His arms looked strong enough to use his body as a sword for hells sake. Suddenly the words came to him, as rash as they sounded he didn't hold them back. "Let them try Grendz. They will only meet the ground. Besides, perhaps after the display you will realize that you stand no chance."

    Grendz's smile grew larger. "Drelan, wish to fight?"

    "Aye.."

    "I think you have forgotten what lead you here."

    "Not anymore...." Drelan replied slowly something seeming to change in the air as he did so. "However.. I cannot go with you."

    "You dare, violate exile more? Your family pay for your actions?"

    Drelan paused a moment, his head looked down to his chest at something that should have been there that wasn't. "Yes... If you can take me from my vileness, so be it. I wish you well. But I will not go willingly."

    "Lermonian? " Grendz grunted. "What code say about letting other wronged get their justice?"

    The younger man in the expensivel robe, finer looking than any of the rest apporached the Barbarian. "They have right to him as well. You of course will have the first opportunity should you wish it."

    The barbarian lowered his head to the man's ear and whispered in his ear. Lermonian nodded and gave the simple reply, "Very well." Before the barbarian spoke again.

    "Tarin. You and men get chance at him then. However I want question answered first. Why all flags outside?"

    "I am not running from you. You have every right to my head. If you can claim it.. I do not wish to keep you from proper ceremony if you wish it." Drelan replied stoicly.

    The barbarian cocked an eyebrow at his prey. This he had not expected. A simple surrender, a dirty trap yes. This not so. "Not running from Relekev? I not know better me think you became knight after all. Tarin, take men outside to flags we handle this like home." Tarin growled wanting his fight here and now, but the Barbarian's form if not his voice seemed to force him to do otherwise and the men helped the wounded to the location, leaving the inn on their way.

    Drelan eyed Grendz momentarily then strode for the door as if the Barbarian was not worthy of his attention but as his hand touched the knob he said something, "Grendz... My memory is foggy.. But I had meant to turn myself in. May the fire come to you... Hendry your payment is in the room." Drelan then followed out into the rain. Grendz not far behind though the words struck him as odd. Good thing Grendz had followed so closely too, the glares of the men making it obvious he probably would have been jumped and stabbed the moment he stepped out the door.

    As Drelan, Lermonian, and Grendz walked towards the flags Grendz asked, "Where's squire?"

    "I nay have one. Good thing too they'll need every chance they can get."
    Grendz grinned, and the glares from the other men grew stronger. The flags were all blue and flapped in the moderate wind from the rain storm.

    "Lermonian. Tell all how this works."

    The lean and fairly small man, relative to everyone else, began to point and calmly explain. "The offended will stand at the eastern end of the circle, the accused in the western." All did as was told Drelan sliding the strong cherry shield to his arm and placing his hand on his sword hilt. Lermonian stopped as more than Tarrin took the east side, which was suprising enough as wounded as the man was. "Only one is allowed to ..."

    Drelan interrupted him. "Nay, if I wronged them all from the same offense, let them all enter. Only way the right might be wronged."
    Gods.. hope this is working as well as planned Drelan remembered being chastised for his arrogance outside of the Norwick gate and smirked slightly thinking if only the man knew that it was not always arrogance that caused such action…

    "There he goes again! Acting like he's better than all of us. Lets finish with these formalities so we can crack his skull already."

    Lermonian licked his lips obviously suprised at the conversation occuring. "Very well... I suppose if the accused has no objections we may proceed. None may leave the circle until it is over. Only when one is.. " Lermonian corrected himself, "all of one side is incapacitated is the trial over. It will begin when I, the judge, call it to be as such." Lermonian looked to Grendz. Grendz had traveled and been tormented for so long, why would he now let these others try before him? He was truly a generous man he thought. Lermonian looked to Drelan who's gaze was steadily on the other men. "Is the accused ready to stand?"

    "Aye.." A metallic sound resonated in the air as he drew his sword taking quite an offensive stance his shield out to meet any that would come near, his blade held perfectly straight and vertical to the ground, though his shoulder was slumped oddly.

    "The offended?" Lermonian said as he looked to the otherside.

    The three armored men dropped their cloaks revealing rather heavy armor beneath. One was particularly armored and carried a shield almost as large as him a mace in one hand. "May Tempus bring us the glory this day of combat" The man announced. While the other two took up a halbred and axe, Tarin was left to cling to a flag pole to keep his balance, but he refused to leave the ring. No he would see the death of the one that caused his brother's murder.

    "Very well... May we sit in judgement." Grendz nodded to the men after Lermonian spoke to let them know that meant they could begin to the fight.

  • E

    _One day on nice and pleasant morn'
    The child Relekev was born
    To loving arms he given
    Only soon from them to be driven.

    Twas the child but twelve days of age
    When peasant exploded in fit of rage
    Killing those that gave him life
    And perhaps creating his future strife

    Two days later accross the river he was ferried
    Then to the great halls of helm the lad was carried
    Hoping that he would in their tuteledge grow, just
    As any that were thought to rule surely must

    However, fate had a different plan that begun that day
    A darker force would soon this strong lad sway
    Necromancer, Darkin came to the sacred place
    Telling the watchers he had come to enjoy their grace

    But twas but a lie, for it was really a child he sought
    His ability to sire an heir long gone to rot
    Darkin introduced hid ways to the malleable youth
    Introducing him to a lurking darker truth

    He showed him the ways to make the body last
    By making death try so hard to catch he actually ran past
    Proving to him, that not only the gods could grant eternal force
    It was simple, if you could but the body coherce.

    Relekev took the man's words as if they were something sweet
    Thinking that in his teachings, his whole soul he could complete
    So young Relekev went with the Necromancer far away
    Though his spirit would soon return to stay.

    Relekev of noble birth returned not but years after
    Bringing with him an army of no small matter
    Town after town fell in shadow and flame
    To every knight and defender he became a great bane

    But as he reached Derskin's Folly a change occured
    Soon the human leutenants and grunts conferred
    And later to the hills could be seen fleeing
    Not realizing the changes that would come to their very being.

    Relekev could not believe the sight of the traitorous act
    And sent for his old tutor for the power that he lacked
    Soon the necromancer came and death came to his aid
    Every man back to their lines were made

    The battlefield was taken the buildings burned
    But proper punishment would await for those that turned
    His minions of undeath's birth rounded them all together
    And with rope to individual planks began to thether

    Soon blade met them all
    Their punishment for having such gaul
    But no longer was each man one
    Instead a thousand where each one stood

    Each was placed in one great bowl
    Now alone from their whole
    And scattered to the wind
    So that their spirits would never mend

    Whether Relekev succeeded in his plot
    And succeeded in bringing eternal pain to the lot
    I, this bard, do not know
    However my desire to find out is not so

    That I seek to risk my head
    To follow in their stead._

  • E

    Drelan groaned. Gods his head hurt, which was strange indeed since he didnt' even remember being hit over the head, he looked around him and realized he was in the Temple of Helm, Grendz was at his side looking quite well for wear except for a scabbed over slash going accross his face. The barbarian smiled as his friend reached up and grabbed his hand clasping it tightly to show him he was alright.

    "What in the hells happend?" Drelan groggily asked with a slight smile on his face.

    "Bolt in back.. We missed one." He frowned slightly. "He dead now though. He pay."

    "As is right….. Guess you drug my arse out of there huh?" Drelan replied as he tried to sink into the softness of the bed.

    The barbarian only nodded as the door to the room opened Garend, and the one mage that Drelan knew of in the area, Lermonian, the elder entered.

    "These the boys?" Lermonian asked directly his gaze peering over his beak like nose at the boys. "Too stupid to fall back when the men losses are being taken?"

    Garend nodded. "Aye, they were just trying to protect the other men. Trust me you nay tell them to run, something neither of these two young bloods get. Haven't decided if its in the blood or just something they be drinkin'. Not bad for their first real scuffle do. Killed many."

    Lermonian smirked his white bushy mustache curling at the edges as he did. "Balgon had said they were like dogs, but I didn't believe him. Guess he was right after all. I will... report this action to the Order."

    Lermonian left quickly after making his statement, and Garend followed but not before peering back at the now young men and giving them a sympathetic nod as he disappeared into the doorway.

    "Who that?" Grenz asked questioningly. Drelan hadn't even opened his eyes but he knew the voice, "Lermonian of The Sacred Torch..." he muttered before closing his eyes and letting his thoughts drift him to sleep.

    Grendz lead his party through the pass leading now only five men. Lermonian, what was left of Tarin, two fighters, and a healer known only as Sarg that he had met in the inn, but was shown some winters of experience and was very well outfitted. He had planned on having to rip the ones that the people here called "Eastlanders" to shreds but strangely they seemed not to intent on engaging hm and his men. He was dissapointed that the tales of their aggressiveness had not been more true, he wished to see the strength of the people of this land. He paused at crossroads. "Tarin, which way?", he asked in a rather commanding tone. Tarin pointed west, a slight amount of fear and anger boiling in him as he did so. Grendz nodded and continued onward having his course and they began to pass a series of flags on the road, not all yellow. Grendz eyed them carefully in thought and so did Lermonian that murmured something inaudibly before saying, "he has been tracking us..."

    "What did youo expect? It obvious he not come willingly.. He doing best to k now what's comming." They continued on a large building surrounded by a small wall off in the distance. Grendz could have sworn he saw a slight gleam of light as he scanned the top windows of the building. "This.." the barbarian paused, "Alliance Inn?" Tarin nodded and the barbarian wondered why it didnt' feel like a trap. Everything pointed to it being one, but instinct told him otherwise.

    A hin suddenly bursted from the inn door and ran past the group into the pass his black curly locks flowing in the breeze. Drelan squinted focusing his sleep filled eyes on the group comming near the inn, the constant sound of a sharpening stone accross a blade filling the room.

  • E

    Drelan actually smiled slightly and nodded to a hooded figure as he had to depart, promising him he would send for him if he needed anything. He had told Cike his tale, though leaving out some of the more gory details and yet he had still agreed to stand with him, and if worse should come carry out his wishes as requested. It had been quite a long time since Drelan had allowed himself to rely on someone to do a task he had planned on doing himself, and though he had little choice given the circumstances, he felt strangely….. at ease with it. His friend had even brought with him a renewed optimism, that the confrontation might be finished without a need to spill blood. It brought hope, if a foolish one in his opinion. Drelan smiled slightly wondering if besides the more social if somewhat awkward nature of his friend, that the optimism seemed to allow him to rise above the darkness better than he had. He could remember him gentley prodding him, when he asked if he was alright, not finding his answer of "I walk and I breathe, what more can be asked for" acceptable, and frowning commenting on how that was always his answer..

    Drelan stopped and lowered himself to the ground pointing his sword to the ground and placing his hands on the hilt praying to the Lady, that she would protect his friend during the encounter and not bring him harm due to a fight not his own. He finished muttering almost jokingly, "keep the cub safe from harm, he's nay fully grown yet." He then rose and looked down at the blade before sheathing it, Maythor's creation. It seemed his home of exile would be with him with more than one way when the time came. He then pulled his cloak tighter arround him and began the journey to the battlefield that called to him.

  • E

    Drelan sat hunched over a table at the mule horribly drunk. Empty ale bottles surrounded him. What did the voice mean? He rubbed his now throbbing head. Where it had guided him was only to the most disorganized defense attempt he had ever seen, and yet he was still stuck following the orders of someone that would do no better, at least as far as he was concerned.

    Two men entered possibly brothers by looks and wore brown leather cloaks, neither looking exceptionally strong but both had more than one dagger hanging about their belt. One leaned over, whispering to the other….......
    "Ye think that'ne be the 'ne boss sent s after?" The other one just shrugged, "well it is who the dock people were speakin' of."
    "Aye, aye.. Lets get him then"

    One nimbly walked up to Drelan and laid his hand on his shoulder.
    "Heyo, there good chap. allow me to buy you a drink." Drelan nodded drunkenly as a drink came and he uncorked and and downed it quickly. Two other men obviously sailors watched from the corners of the room. They spoke for a while about nothing in particular on subjects from lasses to fine ale, eventually leading to the question, "Aye, been lovely talkin' with you but I'd like to know the name of me new friend." the man asked finally.

    "Dela' sshhhireeeee. 't small hiccup yer service"

    "Aye that be a right sounding name... Tarin, why don't we give him a little gift to celebrate our new friendship?" He said motioning his brother over.
    "Aye, aye we'll help him to a nice soft cot." Drelan grunted but he was led out of the mule and outside he squinted in the night.

    "'ight ov.. stopped uh.. tht' building.." Drelan said mtoiniong to one of the warehouses with his head.

    "No no, the mermaid is where we're taking you chap."

    "No thts da one.. It'll be 'ine.."

    Drelans words were met by the two brothers nodding to each other and pulling a bottle out from a pouch at their pocket. They uncorked and it place it under Drelan's nose. The smell, brought back memories and he jerked and the drunk tensed and suddenly flailed, if not in a very controlled fashion shaking him loose from the two brothers and stumbling back to the wall. "he'lls you fools trying ta do me!?!"

    "Tarin you're right.. hard way it is.. They then tackled the rather stronger looking man and began delivering some swift bows to his face. While blows were returned, and strong ones at that, he seemed to lack the focus to actually hit what he was aiming for more often hitting an arm than the face or gut he was aiming for.

    "MEN now 'ld be a ti." The two sailors that had been watching in the inn, seemed rather close now and ran up behind the two assailants and drug them off hitting them for good measure once or twice and jabbing a dagger in one of their guts, causing a wonderful yell to fill the air.

    "nay, on't kill em.. not yet.." Drelan rose uneasily his face bleeding and swelling quickly. "Who ye be with?!" He asked commandingly. The brothers didn't asnwer. "fine, gang it is... now you can kill em. Tired of this assassinations.." A dagger was drove deeper killing one of the brothers.

    "Hells?! didn't have to do that.. he was jus' a baby... WE AREN'T no gang!"

    "Then.. sk again... who ye with." Drelan asked quietly though still no more composed.

    "Hells will take you!" The brother snapped back.

    Drelan motioned for them to have their way with the remaining one but he blurted out, "Barbarian named Grendz! He be our employer I swear!" Drelan stopped and motioned quickly to the men to stop but not before they had stabbed the brother once.

    "Let him live... " Drelans gaze traveled down to meet the eyes of the now bleeding man. "Is....he....far?" he asked slowly strugglign with every word but suddenly very concerened of its clarity.

    "No! Just on the ship..."

    drelan sighed. "Let him go... You tell him that I will meet him... on the road to an inn the Alliance.. not but three days from now... He will get what he seeks." He then felt his lip and motioned with his hands and the sailors let the brother go that quickly tended to his brother though his time had far passed. The sailors then Drelan down through the docks, muttering and chuckling under their breath.

  • E

    The bandits always came. As certain as spring would follow winter, the fires would come and spread accross the sparsely defended villages. Always sucking some into the abyss before the fighting was over.

    The few remainding elders had led what was left of their village to the city. Grendz could remembere looking at the what were to him, towering stone walls having never seen a creation like it before in his life. The elders latered explained to him that these people had learned to build imposing fortresses to mimic a turtle and provide safety. The city was an odd place as stone was everywhere, yet there was little grass, and they rarely roasted their food in large quanitites in the middle of the city or wore animal furs openly, and they always spoke quickly. Even now, he barely had learned to keep up with the tounge, it always proving a difficulty for him. He remembered the wonder when an elder had sent him with another boy to trade in the market for food. When he arrived the market owners had scoffed at them, not wanting to trade their meats for their furs and trinkets. They had told them that their furs were not as valuable and had turned them away. They had begun to walk back to their family when some others of the…city place had confronted them and begun to make odd noises at them that they did nto understand. The new commers had ripped their furs from them and danced around and thrown them to the ground. They responded as any of their people would have, by drawing axes and preparing to gut the dishonoring fools, and probably would have too, landing themselves in jail or at the noose if not stopped. He remembered his prey seeming to appear out of nowhere stride up and with a stick held his arms out to distract the two and began to loudly but always in a controlled fashion rebuke the ones that had caused them so much trouble.

    "Glad to see the idiots are plentiful again." His prey had replied, a piercing blue gaze seeming to go right through everyone he looked at.

    "Oh shut up, this isnt' their place, besides they were actually trying to trade these worn things for food. They aren't meant to be here."

    "well instead of getting yourselves gutted, why dont' you use your mind. These two here, their families..what is left of them have pledged themselves to the city's defense. Let our enemies kill them, while they kill our enemies and just maybe might save your mothers."

    "Ashire, they aren't ever going to breach our.." The boy was stopped short by the stick going swiftly up to his face and a very solemn glare meeting his own. "Maybe not... Maybe so.. However, in this case, you are not sure what fate will bring, perhaps this city will one day feel what the other towns that it has failed to aid have? Would be oddly just wouldn't it, course I doubt your daft worthless hides would understand that."

    "If you weren't Garend's pet.."

    His prey had interrupted him, "Then I would have let these two gut you as you deserve. Now pick up those furs... fold them nicely and give them back.. nicely.." his prey had then turned and had suprisingly spoken though a bit poorly in their tounge and told them to put away their axes. They were uncertain but did as they were told, as weak as his prey had looked then there was something in his eyes that seemed commanding at times.

    He had later discovered that his prey was from a town not that far from his own village. They became friends of necessity if anything else, his prey's knowledge and glare getting him through the city ways, with his strength to help them if it somehow failed. They even entered the academy together, though his prey always was with the instructors bearing the shield and flame accross their shoulders. He, had chosen the ones that bore the creature they called a lion, not that he had ever seen such a creature before, and it sounded as myth to him but they trained with a savagery not foreign to himself. They had progressed through the ranks and had even gone out on campaign in the same group scouting, using bows when attacked, and aiding the men with their armors and fetching water, the whole time learning tactics and observing the art of war first hand. Upon their return, it would have been a mere month before they had grown into the ranks they had served but no... Grendz's hand tightened on the ship. The spirits had decided otherwise.

  • E

    "I'm your blood.
    You are my blood.
    It is all the ground's now"
    –----------------------------------------------------------------------
    Drelan sat on a cot in the boarshead eyeing the cieling once again without a nurse. "I need to hire me one of those full time, I'm beginning to think.... " He said as as he held his hand to his forehead. Kull had bandaged him but somehow he just felt hollow. He would be better prepared when he went after a necromancer, hes he would be. If it wasn't for Bow.. Well for all he knew he would be a walking skeleton right now. He could hear a voice in his head, "RETREAT" it seemed very familiar but he couldn't place it and he lay wondering where he could have possibly heard it, listening to the rain tatter against the roof of the boars head.

    Somewhere else in Narfell...............................

    A hulk of a man sat in the Pissing goat, his neck was thick, his face shaved except for a growing shadow, and had obvious muscles that could be seen even beneath the mixture of cloth, hide, and leathers that he wore. The man smiled slightly as he drank heavily from the largest tankard the inn had inhaling the beer as he drank, his eyes moving around the table to the other men that had come with him. It was expensive keeping them here, paying them to drink in an inn, but he smiled at the confusion it must be causing his prey at the moment. One of his scouts had spied the reddish haired man in the city and had followed him. He knew what he sought, and perhaps he would give it to him, but not until weakening his mind with confusion. His friend had always planned everything out in excruiciating detail, calculated everything everytime the battle field changed, he knew the uncertainty would be weighing heavily on his mind.

    He smiled slightly almost in a quiet laugh.
    The Ashire, still thinks he knows how to wage war. His prey had not wandered to the abyss, and had even setup in this foreign land gaining some fame. He had forgotten his place, his punishment. If the city would not expend the resources to do what was just, he would. He pictured the wonderful ritual in his mind, and the pain it would bring briefly here, and if lore was true in eternity as well.

    His gaze caught sight of one of his men trying to ~persuade~ one the the wenches for the night.
    "Enjoy you selfs, like Dar here. Tonight we revel, tomorrow we hunt."

    The man propositioning the wench turned and smiled, "Boss you mean we actually have to work for our pay? Awwwww, and just when I thought I had found the dream job of me life."

    One of the other men wore a fine blue and white tunic with a symbol of a griffin adorned to a shoulder pad. "Do you think he's prepared?"

    The hulk licked his lips. "He did.. But I saw them dragging his arse from beach other day. He weak and stupid. Any trap he layed is gone by now, of this me sure."

    The regal looking man looked oddly at the hulking barbarian. "then why didn't you get him then?"

    "he not deserve it then. Let him rest, gain hope. Then justice come." The barbarian grunted out.

    The man shook his head, "Grendz… Drelan's been many things... To go easily is not one of them... "

    "He not have tricks now." Grendz grunted as he drank heavily again and ordered more beer.

    The three other men around them died laughing as the man propositioning the lass was slapped to the floor.

    "Well aren't ye the animal!" She huffed. "Fakin' sailers more resp'tful den you."

    The man rose angerily but Grendz just glared at him with a steady gaze, "Next time speak with sweat tounge."

    "Oh the lass will wish she.."

    Grendz slammed his tankard on the table. "Sit, no of that. Not right."

    "I'm no farkin' knight."

    Evidentally that was the wrong thing to say the barbarian rose quickly and grabbed Dar's arm. "No more pay." He then took his other hand and snapped it in two the man screaming as he hit the floor. "Better, now you remember good." The lass backed off into the corner and Grendz motioned ot his remaining men .

    "Tarin, Herg, Ler. Come we sleep on ship tonight."

    The hulking man then went to the door the others following fearing the guard would come, or worse the man's wrath if they didn't and they disappeared into the foggy night.

  • E

    A young group pushed forward deeper into the planes than any one of their experience should have been. The snow had begun to fall and dust the ground and a woman in the group pulled her cloak close around her obviously not used to the cold. They looked down at the ground seeing many small piles of wood and what looked like burnt meat close together forming a ring of some sorts. The fire had only recently gone out and it still smoked.

    "Well isn't this a right lovely sight. Seems there was a banquet and we missed it." One of the men said.

    "Mebbe…" The woman said glancing around. "somethan just doesn't feel right... Perhaps we should have listened to the people at the inn..."

    "Its only orc.. They are weak we'll be fine. Besides it will be easy money."

    The three continued on not knowing a pair of eyes watched them from afar.

    It wasn't long before they caught sight of a rather large orc with an equally large crossbow in hand. One of them men ordered quietly, "get your shield.. distract it.. We'll shoot if from afar." The others agreed though it could be seen they were uneasy about it.

    A short fight broke out with arrows and bolt flying back and forth accross the plain while the snapper called out. The air suddenly grew black. So black they couldn't see, but they heard the groaning of something falling. At least it sounded it like orc. Vibrations began to shake the ground and the woman started to back pedal having kept at least some confidence in her position, but the other two were not as lucky and while moving weren't as sure they were going the right way.

    "THIS WAY" the woman called out. She heard grunts of agreement followed by a non to friendly growl and the sound of metal doublig on itself and hitting somewhere on the ground with a scream. "What in the hells?" the remaining man called out. The woman turned and ran in the direction she hoped was back, more instinct than anything else breaking free of the black shadowy air just as it cleared.

    The remaining man could finally see his once friend now a pile of shattered bones and a half cleaved body lying on the ground he froze not realizing the heavily grunting beast behind him.

    Then the fires came.... Though from where it wasn't quite sure. But from wherever they originated they shot out quickly burning the flesh of all that became caught in there wake. Theman turned when he heard the orc behind him scream in pain not expecting the hot fires spreading over his back burning his flesh and the heat spreading quickly through his armor.

    "Run you fool.. Don't know a personal fight when you see one you? You weren't invited..." Again fire errupted some of the orcs finally falling dead though they did finally see what was causing the mayhem. A man with golden armor, a slight gleam comming from it in the moon light even though it was obviously dirty with mud and grime.

    The man just stood there blinking. "RUN YOU ARSE.. The lass will run into trouble up ahead you idiot. You can do nothing for your friend." The new commer chastised again drawing blade and a shield from his back and eyeing one of the orcs on the field that was still standing. "you on the other hand... have business..." The man couldn't believe what he was seeing. What in the hells was the idiot doing.

    The new commer yelled something that sounded like gibberish to him but it sure did agitate the orcs badly. He then called out, "YOUR OPPORTUNITY IS DISAPPEARING FRIEND!" he then t hrew something that hit the ground and exploded in flame again felling more. "I imagine there's going to be a hells of a lot more in a few minutes..." The man then ran forward to one of the few left standing holding a good 6 foot sword. "SWORD!" And slashed hard his long sword hitting the blade of the much larger sword withmore force than expected.

    The man finally turned and ran but swiftly recieved a bolt to the back and fell over from the force. Only hearing a large scream and the clash of blades behind him.

  • E

    The sun was bright and warm. The pallisade around him green with creeping ivy. A young man of only maybe 17 years was in a round field enclosed by the wall practicing stances on a combat dummy. A slightly younger boy stumbled into the field squinting in the light. The older one looked over with a smirk, "What are you doing here? Your teaching doesnt' begin for some time yet."

    The younger boy just looked at him and spoke quietly, "I'm here, to duel you." His face not showing any real emotion.

    "Duel me?" The smirk grew wider as he looked at the boy probably two winters younger than himself. "I've seen you fight.. Challenge someone else, you still have a ways to go youngblood."

    Truth was they were all young bloods, still the term was thrown around to refer to anyone doing anything stupid, that reason said not to do.

    "Then kick my arse. So I won't forget.." The boy replied almost shyly.

    The older one just grinned larger but when he saw the boy wasn't leaving shot back. "I better not hear from Garand about this." He walked over to the wall where a rack stood and grabbed some wooden practice swords and shields. They were old enough to fight with real ones wrapped in cloth, but that would require real discipline as if anyone died or was severly hurt the penalties would be steep. The wooden swords were actually much more brutual as their security allowed the boys to strike without thinking as the likely hood of accidentally stabbing someone was minimal, they still werent' supposed to hurt each other but boys would be boys, and it almost always turned into a flogging with one leaving severely bruised. The older one threw one of the practice swords and shields to the younger boy them landing on the ground. The younger one picked them and stared at the older one for a moment before taking the ready position.

    "I'll even give you the first chance young blood. Come and get me." The older one taunted. The younger one just stood, so long until the older one was about to leave thinking him scared stiff before he replied.

    "Nay… You'll need the help."

    The older one shook his hard and walked forward the boy with a steady pace before suddenly lunging attempting to bring his sword down hard on the other's shoulder. A shield rose to meet it but the older one merely too k the opening provided and the yoounger's side sending him sprawling to the ground. "Had enough young blood?" The other boy just rose and took the ready position again.

    "Fight's nay over yet."

    The smirk came again. "No wonder the raiders have such fun with your kind. I'll give oyu your courage, but your stupidity.. makes you dead easy prey." A glare came to the younger's eyes his muscle obviously tensing the sword rising steadily to a striking position, but he said n othing. Why was the boy so angry by that remark? It wasn't that insulting. The boy rushed forward and swung hard, the older one parried and went for the boys leg with his foot, but this round would prove to be much longer the clap of wood on wood and the grunting of leg meeting leg as stances repositioned to keep one from tripping and falling due to a hit form a non blade or shield. A small crowd of three other youth surrounded the fight attracted by the sounds and waiting for the younder one to get his arse handed to him. The older's foot suddenly wasnt' fast enough and the younger flung himself forward, using his shield as a wall a sharp exhale of someone getting the wind knocked out of them was heard and the boy fell like a sack of flour but the shield kept going and hit him squarely in the face a snap of bone being heard and a gasped yelp of pain. The younger one landed on the older one but rolled away before he had the sense to grab him and rose again taking a defensive stance, saying nothing but the anger in his eyes seeming somewhat satiated. he let the older catch his breath but the older one didnt' seem to appreciate the gift and rose his nose swelling and with a growl.

    "Dirty fight eh? If that's the way you want to do it so be it..." He said wiping some blood from his nose even though it was quickly replaced.
    It wasn't long before the two boys clashed again, obviously any rules of honorable conduct far gone the younger one being knocked straight into a wall his shoulder being struck hard before his leg jumped out and knocked the other's shin from underneath him. Eventually through the clashes the younger's strength finally gave away and he became little more than a beating bag never making an offensive move only doing his best to parry and block the storm of blows.

    "HALT YOU FARKING YOUNGBLOODS!" An elderly man barked having jsut arrived, bald with a pepepred beard more white than grey and crooked yellow teeth showing as he called out. The fight didn't stop until three other boys ran and tackled the elder to pull him off, though it still took far too many second to do so. "What's wrong with you two? Dont' ye know you'll be standing on the front lines with each other soon enough? Come now git some sense in ye." The younger was wheezing on the ground obviously taken more hits than he had managed to block, even if they were at the end. He rose shaking blood comming from his lip, "Fight's nay over yet." he weakly whispered.

    "Drelan... Shut the fark up and fall back down.. Going to get you'self killed one of these days I swear. At least have some sense about when to retreat if your goin' ta be daft." The elder rebuked. The younger just bit his lip and stood still but never sitting.

  • E

    The man rolled his head in thought. Perhaps his fall a mere few days ago had been a sign. True the burning poision in his arms had hurt him greatly, but the bearer of the great gift had been changed. He seemed as if he just might be worthy enough not to hawk it as well.

    "I'm sorry lass… I can nay predict fate," he said as he watched the flowing stream plunge into the bottom.

    He had even lost that annoying bard and had managed not to tell him what his work entailed, knowing full well he would have done something to mess it up if he had, he always did.

    "brother... I will find you... It is time we awoke from our dreams..." he muttered quietly taking the blade from its sheath and holding it to the air and after eyeing its fine edges tossed it to the sky the blade flipped and plunged back to earth being caught by the hilt just before it struck the ground. "to battle and glory...." smiling slightly. Having his arse kicked by the Invincible one had helped him after all, he thought.

    His mind drifted again, he couldn't help it. Months had passed, he was now possitive the ship was not comming back until its passengers had finished they're work. It had been gone far to long for just an outfitting, he was no sea man but he was almost certain of that. He wondered if the Lady or Helm had answered his prayers and if i some way they were looking after them. He wondered just how much Lilly was having to look after her friend on the journey, but knowing that the companionship was probably much better than the freezing snow cold mountain he had her pictured on.

    He sighed and shook his head in an attempt to force himself to concentrate again.

    Come on you sniveling weakling, you've a battle to fight stop dreaming about some far off land and get your mind back on task.

    He pulled out some oil and some kindling he had packed away and started a small fire. He sat down beside its warmth and took off his armor as he gazed into the flames, slowly falling asleep to its dance.
    –--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  • E

    A loan orc holding a crossbow scratched its arse as it looked out over the plains, grunting something incomprehensible to most anyone but its own kind. He had been sent to watch, in case some weaker creature tried to break the perimter. Suddenly it coughed and fell over an arrow right through its neck, if quite by accident. A fully armored man appeared and dragged the body heavily to a spot and withdrew some lantern oil, in plain view of the cliffs, his shield still resting on his arm. He lit fire to the body and stood and watched, his gaze slowly circling the area as he waited.

    It didn't take long for some its brethern to see the fire and come to investigate seeing the man in gold armor that they hadn't seen in quite some time. The man's gaze quickly looked over them sighing as if though he was disappointed and then stepped aside and pointed to the burning orc body and then motioned to his neck. When the other orcs realized what it was he was burning they bellowed in rage, the man drawing his sword unphased.

    "Sword." He stated simply, as they charged him clubs in hand. Up his sword flew, their shields not protecting their very large bodies very well taking ones neck as it went, as a club fell his armored arm flew up, hoping to shield his body from the blow, though his sword wasn't quite positioned to take its life. he could feel the vibrations running up and down his arm as he swung his shield around its bright gleam distracting the orc as he tripped it and stabbed it swiftly. "SWORD." The man said louder as he spun around for the third blocking and parrying, but obviously not trying very hard to kill the orc. Again the orc bellowed annoyed at his clubs poor quality and how it couldnt' seem to break the man's finally crafted armor.

    WHACK

    The shield flew colliding with the orcs face dazing it a little, before the shield returned doing it again and knocking it to the ground.

    WHACK

    "Sword." The man said again displaying a single long sword before dropping it to the ground in front of the orc. "You give me sword. " points to the sword and dragged it towards him pickcing it up "I begin to go easier on your kind", the man turned and dumped the canteen out of the burning orc body weakening the fire. "Otherwise…" he drew out another container of lantern spilled it on the two new dead bodies. "We have no deal."

    The rose and hurled itself at the man hoping to take the man to the ground, which it succeeded in doing, but not before getting a sword lodges through its chest, much like a spear. The orcs horrible final breathe spread over the man as they hit the ground.

    "Dead orc... Bah.. " The man said as he struggled and shoved the body off of him. "NEXT TIME NAY SEND YOUR WEAK TO DO WHAT YOU'RE TO SCARED OF!" He yelled out as he rose to his feet. "THREE WEEKS ORCS!!! THREE!!!! THEN THE REAL FEAR BEGINS!!!"

    The man walked over to a pack that had been laying on the ground near the area and withdrew a huge blade obviously from one of the stronger and more proven orcs. He jabbed it in the ground beside the burning bodies.

    "YOU REFUSED TO TRADE BLADES! NOW WE'LL TRADE BLOOD! YOU WILL REGRET THE DAY YOU BROUGHT DISHONOR TO MY NAME! YOUR MAGICS WILL NOT SAVE YOUR WORTHLESS CARCASSES THIS TIME!"

    The man then stopped and yelled as loud as he could hoping if he beat it into the orcs heads they'd finally get it. "SWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORDDDDDDDDDDDD!" He said grabbing the long sword and tossing it into the air high before letting it hit the ground.

    The man then turned and left to the north, leaving the small show of destruction behind him.