Clyde was borne to his room by the wounded Dorek. Once Dorek set Clyde down he moved out and into the servants room. They were standing there with weapons in hands ready to take on any enemy that showed its head through the door. Dorek smiled at the sight, it was amusing and also a grim smile. He told Clyde’s servant to see to Clyde’s wounds in his room. And then he asked the other to help with the wounded man before the porch.
They moved off to see to the wounds and Dorek moved out of the servant’s room. Noticing Nell moving up the stairs and toward Clyde’s room, Dorek thought differently about going back and he made his way to his own room. He was tired, so very tired and he was bleeding a lot from the wounds he had sustained. It had been a fast battle and he would remember each of the faces of the men he had killed. He did not like to kill even though his way of life was that of the trained killer.
When he had reached his room, he went in and over to the bed, taking the linen sheet and ripping it up so that he could bind his wounds temporarily. He tied strips of the sheet tightly around his arm, head and large pieces of the sheet around his torso. He had other nicks on his body, but he left them to stop bleeding on their own. They were not too bad.
He then stood and moved to his cupboard, taking out a metal box, which he set on the bed and began going through. It contained various healing herbs and pieces of paper with treatments for different wounds written upon them. He had memorised the information written on the papers and so he took the various herbs he needed and began to make a poultice for his wounds.
After a few minutes he had completed it and he ripped more pieces of sheet up so that he could bind his wounds again. Once this was done he took the bandage from his arm and smeared some of the poultice over and into the wound. Then to keep it there he covered it with a piece of linen and tied it up tightly. He did the same for his head and his torso. Having to use a mirror for these because they were more delicate work.
Upon finishing his torso he stood and took the bowl in which was a large amount of the poultice, and moved to Clyde’s room. He saw that the man’s wounds had been bound tightly and already the servant had made a poultice for the wounds. Dorek turned and moved out and down stairs to the wounded man at the porch. He handed the servant the bowl and then moved amongst the dead and dying. He eventually came to Alfred’s corpse and he knelt before the body, his head bowed as he said a silent prayer.
Ultimately it was Dorek’s fault for Alfred’s death. The boy had been young, still with his life ahead of him and greatness. He had been a good student and if he had lived longer, perhaps he would have been the master he was striving to become.
Dorek was still tired but he forced himself on and picked up Alfred’s corpse, taking the body around the back of the house and to the field. He walked for a long time it seemed and he eventually came to the forest and then to a circle of old trees. He felt the earthly presence of nature and thought the place would be best for the young man to be buried. He had taken a hand shovel from the house as he left and now, with Alfred’s corpse laying up against a tree, he began to dig just inside the circle of old trees. Strength flowed through him from some external force but he did not notice, he kept digging and by midday he had dug half of the grave.
Anyone could have followed his trail to where he was digging the grave, his footprints were heavy and he did not care whether he had left prints or not.
The servants, after seeing to the wounded companions, dragged the corpses of the riders and some of their horses that had been injured and subsequently killed, into a natural ditch a few minutes rider outside the estate. They used wagons and the rider’s horses to pull them. They then dumped oil over the corpses and set the pile alight. It was the easiest way to get rid of the corpses.
Clyde remained unconscious for most of the day, some times he awoke for only a moment and then he would once more fall back asleep. He needed to regain the blood he had lost.
At the Beginning(Closed/See Signup)
82 posts
• Page 3 of 4 • 1, 2, 3, 4
by Ashwyn » Mon Nov 25, 2002 4:48 pm
Jerin listened in horror to his visitor's tale. The deaths were bad enough, but that the goblins had actually cooked the girl Elrie! He felt bile rise in his throat. Reaching for his pack, he pulled out the small travel harp his mother had given him, and began to play. The melody was soft and haunting, an old tune he had learned as a child. It had always comforted him in times of grief, and he hoped that it would help this stranger as well.
"My name is NightFeather, Spirit Warrior of the Icharii Tribe. Can I offer you some of my smoked meat? I believe I may have destroyed your snare."
Jerin was impressed by NightFeather's control. He was sure that if his entire family had been killed, and he had seen the things the young man across the fire had, he would have run screaming into the night, and not stopped till he could run no longer.
"Um, thanks. I was getting tired of the jerky I've been eating for the past couple of weeks. Smoked meat would be something of a change." he said, still playing the soft melody. "As for the snare, I will set another."
Suiting action to words, Jerin silenced the harp, taking care to repack it safely. "I will only be a few minutes, but if you would like to clean up, I saw a creak near here, and there is small cake of soap in my pack. I think you would feel better being clean and dressed in something not covered in blood. If so, help yourself."
A quick glance at NightFeather reminded Jerin that the darkness outside his camp might not be friendly. Feeling faintly embarrassed in front of the battle tested youth, Jerin rummaged in his pack. His great uncle's sword had long since been melted down, but Jerin had found his off-hand weapon rusting in the attic. His great uncle's "pig sticker". It was bracer, gauntlet, and weapon in one. When worn, a one and half foot blade would stick out over the wielder's hand, supported by a steel bar that ran up the forearm. Acording to his great uncle's journal, the weapon was very useful.
The gauntlet fit his left hand fine, but Jerin had to pull the forearm straps as tight as they would go, and still found the bracer to be loose. It was meant to be a second weapon for his great uncle's off hand, his left. But Jerin was left handed, so it would work okay. His being left handed was another point of contention between father and son. After all "Only warlock and witches are lef' handed ye know!"
He was proud of this weapon, because when he found it, it had been all but worthless. It had taken weeks to clean all the rust off and repair all the rotten leather work. Now, with the "pig sticker" strapped on, Jerin was glad he had gone to the trouble.
"I will be back in a few minutes. Rest or bathe as you like. I have a spare shirt if you need it." he said, then moved off into the night to reset a snare.
"My name is NightFeather, Spirit Warrior of the Icharii Tribe. Can I offer you some of my smoked meat? I believe I may have destroyed your snare."
Jerin was impressed by NightFeather's control. He was sure that if his entire family had been killed, and he had seen the things the young man across the fire had, he would have run screaming into the night, and not stopped till he could run no longer.
"Um, thanks. I was getting tired of the jerky I've been eating for the past couple of weeks. Smoked meat would be something of a change." he said, still playing the soft melody. "As for the snare, I will set another."
Suiting action to words, Jerin silenced the harp, taking care to repack it safely. "I will only be a few minutes, but if you would like to clean up, I saw a creak near here, and there is small cake of soap in my pack. I think you would feel better being clean and dressed in something not covered in blood. If so, help yourself."
A quick glance at NightFeather reminded Jerin that the darkness outside his camp might not be friendly. Feeling faintly embarrassed in front of the battle tested youth, Jerin rummaged in his pack. His great uncle's sword had long since been melted down, but Jerin had found his off-hand weapon rusting in the attic. His great uncle's "pig sticker". It was bracer, gauntlet, and weapon in one. When worn, a one and half foot blade would stick out over the wielder's hand, supported by a steel bar that ran up the forearm. Acording to his great uncle's journal, the weapon was very useful.
The gauntlet fit his left hand fine, but Jerin had to pull the forearm straps as tight as they would go, and still found the bracer to be loose. It was meant to be a second weapon for his great uncle's off hand, his left. But Jerin was left handed, so it would work okay. His being left handed was another point of contention between father and son. After all "Only warlock and witches are lef' handed ye know!"
He was proud of this weapon, because when he found it, it had been all but worthless. It had taken weeks to clean all the rust off and repair all the rotten leather work. Now, with the "pig sticker" strapped on, Jerin was glad he had gone to the trouble.
"I will be back in a few minutes. Rest or bathe as you like. I have a spare shirt if you need it." he said, then moved off into the night to reset a snare.
I have drank from the Cup of Despair... And found it sweet indeed.
-
Ashwyn - Stablehand
- Posts: 67
- Joined: Fri Oct 18, 2002 2:20 pm
- Location: Lost somewhere in Colorado
by Nell » Mon Nov 25, 2002 6:12 pm
She stood in the doorway for a brief moment, watching Clyde's servant begin to clean the wounds that Clyde had sustained. It distressed her to see the young man in this pitiful state and she moved forward to offer assistance. Following the servant's instructions, she helped to bind wounds and apply a healing poultice to the afflicted body. With care and gentleness, they worked together to dress the gashes and lacerations. When finished, she sat a few moments at Clyde's side, softly brushing his long black hair to one side, so it would not irritate him if he woke. Finally she stood and leaning over, bestowed a light kiss on his lips.
"Sleep and heal, my friend. Don't leave us for too long."
With a parting clasp of his hand and one more kiss, this time on his upturned palm, she left the room. Leaving the house again, her mind at rest regarding the care of Clyde, her thoughts turned to the prisoner still out on the road. Three servants were working on the stranger and Nell instructed the strongest of them to follow her with one of the horses. Together they found the soldier, still unconscious and bound by the leather reins. With a slight struggle they hoisted him over the back of the horse and took him back to the house and around to the stables. Once there, they dumped him unceremoniously on the ground and reinforced his restraints, making sure that these in turn were tied to an iron loop in the stone walls. If he regained consciousness, he wouldn't be able to crawl away. Nell told the servant to remain at the doorway, watching the enemy, and to inform them if he awoke, but not to speak or go near him.
Her duties so far fulfilled, Nell knew there was one final one to attend to. Keeping a tight hold of the case she had wrapped around her heart , she moved out into the field to find her brother. This spot she had avoided so far, but knew she had to face it now. Yet as she approached, she could not see Alfred. His corpse was no longer where it had fallen, where she had left it. For an insane moment, she imagined that he was not dead, that she had been mistaken and that Alfred had risen. Perhaps he was in the house, or had struggled to a place where right now someone was helping him?
Daring to hope, she trembled and scanned the surrounding area. A servant nearby was picking up fallen weapons and Nell ran to him. Grabbing him by the shoulders, she tried to ask where Alfred was, her voice a babble. The servant, mistaking her mad euphoria for over wrought grief pointed to the woods, where Dorek had carried the body. Without waiting for explanation, Nell turned and ran in that direction, holding her skirts in one hand as she rushed to find her brother.
Stumbling occasionally, she saw the trail as she entered the woods, a trail made by careless feet, and to her mind one perhaps made by a man, injured. Had Alfred known of this place where she had been filled by spirits? The case surrounding her heart, shattered, as her emotions broke free. She ran until she saw the familiar tree protected by the circle of green. He was here! Leaning against the tree, resting. With a cry half strangled in joy and relief she threw herself to his side.
"Alfred! Sweet heavens I thought you had died. Oh Alfred"
As she placed her arms around him and drew him into a tight embrace, only then did Nell realise her horrific mistake. The body had stiffened, was stone cold. Feeling her own breath exhale sharply, she sprang back. With clear eyes, she looked and saw the truth. It was not her brother, but an empty shell that had once been him. The cruel joke that hope had played on Nell crushed her spirit.
Comforting hands were laid on her shoulders and Nell looked up to see Dorek, his face sorrowful and his eyes pitying her.
"I thought he was ..." The words stuck. She didn't need to explain. For the next hour, she worked at Dorek's side to dig her brother's grave. They laid him to rest, covering him quickly. When the final covering of earth was pressed down, Nell stood with Dorek.
"You knew to bring him here." Words were hard to say for the young woman. She whispered her thanks. She wanted to stay by the grave, yet, did not. Together the two walked back to the house, the sun mocking their grief.
As they reached the estate, she told Dorek of the prisoner in the stables.
"Sleep and heal, my friend. Don't leave us for too long."
With a parting clasp of his hand and one more kiss, this time on his upturned palm, she left the room. Leaving the house again, her mind at rest regarding the care of Clyde, her thoughts turned to the prisoner still out on the road. Three servants were working on the stranger and Nell instructed the strongest of them to follow her with one of the horses. Together they found the soldier, still unconscious and bound by the leather reins. With a slight struggle they hoisted him over the back of the horse and took him back to the house and around to the stables. Once there, they dumped him unceremoniously on the ground and reinforced his restraints, making sure that these in turn were tied to an iron loop in the stone walls. If he regained consciousness, he wouldn't be able to crawl away. Nell told the servant to remain at the doorway, watching the enemy, and to inform them if he awoke, but not to speak or go near him.
Her duties so far fulfilled, Nell knew there was one final one to attend to. Keeping a tight hold of the case she had wrapped around her heart , she moved out into the field to find her brother. This spot she had avoided so far, but knew she had to face it now. Yet as she approached, she could not see Alfred. His corpse was no longer where it had fallen, where she had left it. For an insane moment, she imagined that he was not dead, that she had been mistaken and that Alfred had risen. Perhaps he was in the house, or had struggled to a place where right now someone was helping him?
Daring to hope, she trembled and scanned the surrounding area. A servant nearby was picking up fallen weapons and Nell ran to him. Grabbing him by the shoulders, she tried to ask where Alfred was, her voice a babble. The servant, mistaking her mad euphoria for over wrought grief pointed to the woods, where Dorek had carried the body. Without waiting for explanation, Nell turned and ran in that direction, holding her skirts in one hand as she rushed to find her brother.
Stumbling occasionally, she saw the trail as she entered the woods, a trail made by careless feet, and to her mind one perhaps made by a man, injured. Had Alfred known of this place where she had been filled by spirits? The case surrounding her heart, shattered, as her emotions broke free. She ran until she saw the familiar tree protected by the circle of green. He was here! Leaning against the tree, resting. With a cry half strangled in joy and relief she threw herself to his side.
"Alfred! Sweet heavens I thought you had died. Oh Alfred"
As she placed her arms around him and drew him into a tight embrace, only then did Nell realise her horrific mistake. The body had stiffened, was stone cold. Feeling her own breath exhale sharply, she sprang back. With clear eyes, she looked and saw the truth. It was not her brother, but an empty shell that had once been him. The cruel joke that hope had played on Nell crushed her spirit.
Comforting hands were laid on her shoulders and Nell looked up to see Dorek, his face sorrowful and his eyes pitying her.
"I thought he was ..." The words stuck. She didn't need to explain. For the next hour, she worked at Dorek's side to dig her brother's grave. They laid him to rest, covering him quickly. When the final covering of earth was pressed down, Nell stood with Dorek.
"You knew to bring him here." Words were hard to say for the young woman. She whispered her thanks. She wanted to stay by the grave, yet, did not. Together the two walked back to the house, the sun mocking their grief.
As they reached the estate, she told Dorek of the prisoner in the stables.
-
Nell - Stablehand
- Posts: 177
- Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
- Location: England, UK
by Stromdus » Tue Nov 26, 2002 11:51 am
Waking from the blackness hurting all over his body, Stromdus grogily looks around, and remembereds where he is. Quickly getting to his feet, he is overcome by a surge of dizzyness, and falls down again. Looking around, he realizes the battle is over, and a woman was coming over to him.
Ah, you're awake! We were worried that you wouldn't come around for a while. Here, have some water.
Drinking down the whole jug of water in a few seconds, he gave a big smile to the woman, to show he was alright.
Thank you for water, you no need worry. Stromdus strong. Not get hurt too bad.
Trying to stand again, he falls right back down on his arse, and looks at the woman, and holds his hand out to her with a little grin.
I can't stand. Need help. Will you help?
The woman helps him up, and helps him move around a bit, until he got his bearings. Then she sat him right back down and began dressing his wounds. Removing his harness, he allows her to clean them, and bandage them before he stands again to search for his lost weapon. He didn't bother putting his harness back on. It was ruined, and he would have to make a new one. Looking around, he sees a man struggling with his sword, trying to get the huge blade into a pile of other weapons. Walking over to him, he grips the hilt of the sword with one hand, and returns it to its scabbard.
Thinking to check on the people he was helping he enters the manor, and looks around for some of the people that he fought alongside. Asking a nearby servant where any of the people who fought in the battle were, he was directed to a room, with an injured man being tended to.
Sitting on a chair near the bed he looked closely at him, and realized this was the man that he knocked off the horse with the dying soldier. He saw him fight, and this man was better at it than he was. Perhaps he would be his new master.
Better leave him alone. I go help now.
Leaving the room, he moves around the house, helping the servants with anything they need help with.
Ah, you're awake! We were worried that you wouldn't come around for a while. Here, have some water.
Drinking down the whole jug of water in a few seconds, he gave a big smile to the woman, to show he was alright.
Thank you for water, you no need worry. Stromdus strong. Not get hurt too bad.
Trying to stand again, he falls right back down on his arse, and looks at the woman, and holds his hand out to her with a little grin.
I can't stand. Need help. Will you help?
The woman helps him up, and helps him move around a bit, until he got his bearings. Then she sat him right back down and began dressing his wounds. Removing his harness, he allows her to clean them, and bandage them before he stands again to search for his lost weapon. He didn't bother putting his harness back on. It was ruined, and he would have to make a new one. Looking around, he sees a man struggling with his sword, trying to get the huge blade into a pile of other weapons. Walking over to him, he grips the hilt of the sword with one hand, and returns it to its scabbard.
Thinking to check on the people he was helping he enters the manor, and looks around for some of the people that he fought alongside. Asking a nearby servant where any of the people who fought in the battle were, he was directed to a room, with an injured man being tended to.
Sitting on a chair near the bed he looked closely at him, and realized this was the man that he knocked off the horse with the dying soldier. He saw him fight, and this man was better at it than he was. Perhaps he would be his new master.
Better leave him alone. I go help now.
Leaving the room, he moves around the house, helping the servants with anything they need help with.
-
Stromdus - Stablehand
- Posts: 18
- Joined: Mon Nov 11, 2002 2:11 pm
- Location: Lost in a pit of depression
by Harthar » Thu Nov 28, 2002 3:08 pm
Dorek had been digging for what seemed an age when he heard the foot falls of a frantically running person. He looked up from his work to see Nell, consumed by her grief, fall to the ground in front of her dead brother, thinking that he was alive. The weapons master's face turned grimly sad and his head bowed down.
He dropped the shovel and moved over to her, his calused and bloody hands resting upon her shoulders as she once more found out that her brother was no longer among the living. He helped her to her feet and had no need to give her comforting words. She took up a shovel and began to dig the grave. Dorek watched her for only a moment before he set to work with her.
After an hour or so the grave was completed and they moved over to Alfred. Picking up his corpse and then laying it gently and neatly within the grave. Dorek took Alfred's short swords from where he had lain and crossed them over Alfred's chest. Then he took the axe which had killed him and also lay it over Alfred's chest, ontop of the shortswords.
This done Dorek knelt next to the edge of the open grave and looked down at the youthful face of the corpse. His jaw clenched but other then that there was no outward emotion. Within he was in turmoil. How could he have let this happen? How could he have brought such a young man into a fight for a house that did not belong to him, which they would have to leave now anyway?
Dorek let his head sag down for a moment as he crouched there and then reigning himself in he stood up straight and nodded to Nell. They both then began to cover the corpse in the soil of the enchanted grove.
Once they had filled the grave in Dorek moved to Nell's side and they both looked at the grave together.
Dorek looked over at Nell's face and then said softly but firmly.
"I did not know of this place until today when I brought his corpse here. But when I got here I felt it was ment for him to be buried here. I'm sorry for the death of your brother and I ask for you to forgive me for bringing this upon him. I should not have brought him from his bed to fight for something that he did not need to fight for. We should have ran."
An hour later the two had made it back to the house and went to pay a visit to the prisoner that Nell had taken. They watched the prisoner for a few moments as he become concious and tested his bindings, then Dorek moved like a vengeful lunatic.
The skilled right hand of the weapons master came up under the Prisoner's jaw and grabbed him by the neck, pulling him up and against the brick wall. Strength that one might not have seen in Dorek came to the fore, he was lifting a man that weighed more then him, that also wore plate armour. But Dorek did not faulter in holding the prisoner there, slowly cutting off the air supply.
"Why did you come to attack us? Tell me no lies or I will make your death a painful one."
The prisoner, his eyes now wide with terror did not speak, but looked fearfully at Dorek's imposing figure.
Dorek growled and with his left hand punched the prisoner between his legs. The prisoner's eyes went even wider and he began to choke as he spoke.
"We... are the... scout party... for a larger... army. We... came to... take over any village... or estate... before... we get to the ca... capital. There the... main force... will make its appearance... and attack."
"And what will they do now that your scout party is destroyed?"
"They will come through themselves... and destroy what we did not. You may have beaten us, but you can not hope to beat them."
Dorek's eyes narrowed and his fist moved in to punch the man's jaw, letting go of his neck at the same time, which sent the prisoner flying to one side, only to be jerked back by the restraits of the chains. Dorek turned to Nell and walked slowly over to her, his hand went to her belt to draw the dagger that rested there. He then turned and moved over to the prisoner.
"Death is a mercy, not a punishment. Be thankful."
He brought the dagger to the man's neck and slit the throat cleanly. Blood spurt out for a few moments before the man's head sagged and then no more blood came from the wound other then a light trickle. Dorek whiped the blade clean on the man's cloths and then moved to Nell, handing her dagger back to her handle first he then moved off and into the house, but before he did he spoke to her.
"Nell, we are going to have to get out of here as fast as we can. I ask you if you would be able to pack the necessary equipment that Clyde will need on this journey. I will pack my own equipment and then see to the supplies."
He then moved closer to her, a hand resting upon each shoulder.
"And do not worry. I am planning on taking out my revenge upon this army for the death of your brother."
The bloodied weapons master moved off and inside then.
He dropped the shovel and moved over to her, his calused and bloody hands resting upon her shoulders as she once more found out that her brother was no longer among the living. He helped her to her feet and had no need to give her comforting words. She took up a shovel and began to dig the grave. Dorek watched her for only a moment before he set to work with her.
After an hour or so the grave was completed and they moved over to Alfred. Picking up his corpse and then laying it gently and neatly within the grave. Dorek took Alfred's short swords from where he had lain and crossed them over Alfred's chest. Then he took the axe which had killed him and also lay it over Alfred's chest, ontop of the shortswords.
This done Dorek knelt next to the edge of the open grave and looked down at the youthful face of the corpse. His jaw clenched but other then that there was no outward emotion. Within he was in turmoil. How could he have let this happen? How could he have brought such a young man into a fight for a house that did not belong to him, which they would have to leave now anyway?
Dorek let his head sag down for a moment as he crouched there and then reigning himself in he stood up straight and nodded to Nell. They both then began to cover the corpse in the soil of the enchanted grove.
Once they had filled the grave in Dorek moved to Nell's side and they both looked at the grave together.
"You knew to bring him here."
Dorek looked over at Nell's face and then said softly but firmly.
"I did not know of this place until today when I brought his corpse here. But when I got here I felt it was ment for him to be buried here. I'm sorry for the death of your brother and I ask for you to forgive me for bringing this upon him. I should not have brought him from his bed to fight for something that he did not need to fight for. We should have ran."
An hour later the two had made it back to the house and went to pay a visit to the prisoner that Nell had taken. They watched the prisoner for a few moments as he become concious and tested his bindings, then Dorek moved like a vengeful lunatic.
The skilled right hand of the weapons master came up under the Prisoner's jaw and grabbed him by the neck, pulling him up and against the brick wall. Strength that one might not have seen in Dorek came to the fore, he was lifting a man that weighed more then him, that also wore plate armour. But Dorek did not faulter in holding the prisoner there, slowly cutting off the air supply.
"Why did you come to attack us? Tell me no lies or I will make your death a painful one."
The prisoner, his eyes now wide with terror did not speak, but looked fearfully at Dorek's imposing figure.
Dorek growled and with his left hand punched the prisoner between his legs. The prisoner's eyes went even wider and he began to choke as he spoke.
"We... are the... scout party... for a larger... army. We... came to... take over any village... or estate... before... we get to the ca... capital. There the... main force... will make its appearance... and attack."
"And what will they do now that your scout party is destroyed?"
"They will come through themselves... and destroy what we did not. You may have beaten us, but you can not hope to beat them."
Dorek's eyes narrowed and his fist moved in to punch the man's jaw, letting go of his neck at the same time, which sent the prisoner flying to one side, only to be jerked back by the restraits of the chains. Dorek turned to Nell and walked slowly over to her, his hand went to her belt to draw the dagger that rested there. He then turned and moved over to the prisoner.
"Death is a mercy, not a punishment. Be thankful."
He brought the dagger to the man's neck and slit the throat cleanly. Blood spurt out for a few moments before the man's head sagged and then no more blood came from the wound other then a light trickle. Dorek whiped the blade clean on the man's cloths and then moved to Nell, handing her dagger back to her handle first he then moved off and into the house, but before he did he spoke to her.
"Nell, we are going to have to get out of here as fast as we can. I ask you if you would be able to pack the necessary equipment that Clyde will need on this journey. I will pack my own equipment and then see to the supplies."
He then moved closer to her, a hand resting upon each shoulder.
"And do not worry. I am planning on taking out my revenge upon this army for the death of your brother."
The bloodied weapons master moved off and inside then.
Master of War
What see you in the horizon's bruised smear
That cannot be blotted out
By the raising of your hand?
What see you in the horizon's bruised smear
That cannot be blotted out
By the raising of your hand?
-
Harthar - War Master
- Posts: 166
- Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
by Nell » Sat Nov 30, 2002 10:43 am
Nell waited a moment after Dorek had left the stables. She had remained silent during the interrogation and subsequent execution, watching with dull eyes as the man died. There was no pity for the soldier. There was no room for such an emotion with her tightly-packed heart. Grief, fear and vengeance resided deep within her, tempered only by the small corner of love which kept her balanced. Turning purposefully she returned to the house, passing the stranger who stood by the door leading to the kitchens. She appraised the tall, handsome man, who seemed to have recovered from his wounds, if only superficially.
"I thank you for your help this morning in stopping the soldiers. You should know that we are now leaving this place, as that was just a scouting party. More soldiers will arrive. When, we do not know. But we have to leave now. If you are coming with us, then help us. We need a wagon and fresh horses. We need supplies gathered, for I do not know how long we will be travelling or how far. If you are to make your own way, then I wish you good fortune and please take what you need from this house as our thanks." Nell paused a moment, realising that perhaps her tone was not as welcoming as it could be. But there was no time for niceties. "My name is Nell. You are welcome to join us. Dorek will appreciate having another courageous and strong man in our company. I have to go now and make ready for the journey."
With that, Nell moved quickly upstairs. She alerted Clyde's servant of their imminent departure and seeing him begin to gather what was necessary for his master, left to return to her own room. She had to quickly change out of her clothes that were bloody from the morning's encounter. She roughly scrubbed dried blood from her hands and face with cold water, drew her hair back into a high pony tail and changed into clean clothes. It was a rush job but would have to do until the next opportunity. She packed quickly what was essential, leaving out frivolous items that would take up precious space. Then she went to Alfred's room. She scanned the room for anything that would be useful, trying to not be sentimental in her choice of what to take. There was little to choose from as her brother had few possessions beyond what was necessary. Her eye fell on a small thick volume by his bed. Opening it, she saw it was a diary of kinds. She had no idea that he had kept one. Hesitating a second, she picked it up. This would be one momento she would keep safe.
Returning to Clyde's room, she frowned. Was he well enough to travel? She leant over, so her face was close to his and gently shook him.
"Clyde? Clyde, you have to wake up. We have to leave. It's dangerous to stay. Clyde?" She wasn't sure he had heard her, but her hand slipped down to clasp his left hand. Entwining his strong fingers with hers, she could feel tears rising at the back of her eyes. But she had to be strong and not let weak emotions consume her.
"I thank you for your help this morning in stopping the soldiers. You should know that we are now leaving this place, as that was just a scouting party. More soldiers will arrive. When, we do not know. But we have to leave now. If you are coming with us, then help us. We need a wagon and fresh horses. We need supplies gathered, for I do not know how long we will be travelling or how far. If you are to make your own way, then I wish you good fortune and please take what you need from this house as our thanks." Nell paused a moment, realising that perhaps her tone was not as welcoming as it could be. But there was no time for niceties. "My name is Nell. You are welcome to join us. Dorek will appreciate having another courageous and strong man in our company. I have to go now and make ready for the journey."
With that, Nell moved quickly upstairs. She alerted Clyde's servant of their imminent departure and seeing him begin to gather what was necessary for his master, left to return to her own room. She had to quickly change out of her clothes that were bloody from the morning's encounter. She roughly scrubbed dried blood from her hands and face with cold water, drew her hair back into a high pony tail and changed into clean clothes. It was a rush job but would have to do until the next opportunity. She packed quickly what was essential, leaving out frivolous items that would take up precious space. Then she went to Alfred's room. She scanned the room for anything that would be useful, trying to not be sentimental in her choice of what to take. There was little to choose from as her brother had few possessions beyond what was necessary. Her eye fell on a small thick volume by his bed. Opening it, she saw it was a diary of kinds. She had no idea that he had kept one. Hesitating a second, she picked it up. This would be one momento she would keep safe.
Returning to Clyde's room, she frowned. Was he well enough to travel? She leant over, so her face was close to his and gently shook him.
"Clyde? Clyde, you have to wake up. We have to leave. It's dangerous to stay. Clyde?" She wasn't sure he had heard her, but her hand slipped down to clasp his left hand. Entwining his strong fingers with hers, she could feel tears rising at the back of her eyes. But she had to be strong and not let weak emotions consume her.
-
Nell - Stablehand
- Posts: 177
- Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
- Location: England, UK
by Stromdus » Mon Dec 02, 2002 11:40 am
[color=indigo]Having just finished working, Stromdus was resting outside of the kitchen door. He was hurrting inside, but he did not wish to show anyone else his pain. Leaning against the wall by door, Stomdus saw a good looking young woman approaching. She stops at him.[/color]
[color=aqua]"I thank you for your help this morning in stopping the soldiers. You should know that we are now leaving this place, as that was just a scouting party. More soldiers will arrive... [/color]
[color=indigo]He could only make out a few of the more important things she said, as he was hurting all over.[/color]
[color=aqua]My name is Nell. You are welcome to join us. Dorek will appreciate having another courageous and strong man in our company. I have to go now and make ready for the journey." [/color]
[color=indigo]At that she went away, so Stromdus left the house. That injured man would not be able to walk. He would have to be carried. Leaving the house, he went to some nearby trees, and cuts two long sturdy branches from them. Cutting the branches into straight poles, he tied his large cloak in-between them, making a stretcher. Putting the poles together he walked inside, going to the injured man's room. Seeing Nell holding the injured mans hand, he walks past her, and leans the makeshift stretcher beside Clydes bed.[/color]
[color=aqua]You say I must help if I want to go, so I make him drag poles, in case he don't wake up in time. He look hurt, but he look strong too. If he strong he get better fast like me. [/color]
[color=indigo]He pounds his fist against his chest, and winces in pain.[/color]
[color=aqua]Well, almost better. If he don't wake in time, and you going to carry him, you find me, and I help. I want to travel with all of you. I'm tired of travelling alone. I travel alone for long time. I want to help. [/color]
[color=indigo]At that he leaves the room, clutching his chest, where it was currently hurting, off in search of the one called Dorek. Asking the servants, he was directed to his quarters. Knocking on the door, he walks inside after being beckoned. [/color]
[color=aqua] My name Stromdus. I want to help you, and leave with you. I am strong. I be big help. I make leather armor. I fix weapons. I fight, but need to learn to fight better. I need new master. Old one died when town was attacked by trolls. I get so scared, I run away. I leave old master to die. After that, I promise never to let new masters die. Thats why I help you. If you be my new master, and you want to run, I will help you. I not let new friends die. I die before new friends do. If you be my new master, that is my promise.[/color]
[color=aqua]"I thank you for your help this morning in stopping the soldiers. You should know that we are now leaving this place, as that was just a scouting party. More soldiers will arrive... [/color]
[color=indigo]He could only make out a few of the more important things she said, as he was hurting all over.[/color]
[color=aqua]My name is Nell. You are welcome to join us. Dorek will appreciate having another courageous and strong man in our company. I have to go now and make ready for the journey." [/color]
[color=indigo]At that she went away, so Stromdus left the house. That injured man would not be able to walk. He would have to be carried. Leaving the house, he went to some nearby trees, and cuts two long sturdy branches from them. Cutting the branches into straight poles, he tied his large cloak in-between them, making a stretcher. Putting the poles together he walked inside, going to the injured man's room. Seeing Nell holding the injured mans hand, he walks past her, and leans the makeshift stretcher beside Clydes bed.[/color]
[color=aqua]You say I must help if I want to go, so I make him drag poles, in case he don't wake up in time. He look hurt, but he look strong too. If he strong he get better fast like me. [/color]
[color=indigo]He pounds his fist against his chest, and winces in pain.[/color]
[color=aqua]Well, almost better. If he don't wake in time, and you going to carry him, you find me, and I help. I want to travel with all of you. I'm tired of travelling alone. I travel alone for long time. I want to help. [/color]
[color=indigo]At that he leaves the room, clutching his chest, where it was currently hurting, off in search of the one called Dorek. Asking the servants, he was directed to his quarters. Knocking on the door, he walks inside after being beckoned. [/color]
[color=aqua] My name Stromdus. I want to help you, and leave with you. I am strong. I be big help. I make leather armor. I fix weapons. I fight, but need to learn to fight better. I need new master. Old one died when town was attacked by trolls. I get so scared, I run away. I leave old master to die. After that, I promise never to let new masters die. Thats why I help you. If you be my new master, and you want to run, I will help you. I not let new friends die. I die before new friends do. If you be my new master, that is my promise.[/color]
-
Stromdus - Stablehand
- Posts: 18
- Joined: Mon Nov 11, 2002 2:11 pm
- Location: Lost in a pit of depression
by Ashwyn » Tue Dec 03, 2002 10:43 am
Jerin moved into the darkness beyond his camp, senses straining for even the slightest sound or movement. He wouldn't admit, even to himself, how frightening the night had suddenly become. It had never occured to him that he could be killed in his sleep by some goblin raider before he even learned how to fight. Waking up to reality was frightening. He moved carefully, both for silence and to keep from twisting an ankle. Why am I doing this? It couldn't be because he wanted to prove his courage to NightFeather. After all, what is brave about repairing a snare?
It took only a short time to find the patch of clover in which he had set his snare. It had indeed been trampled, but the foot that had destroyed it was far to large for NightFeather. Indeed, it was as long as Jerin's forearm. Feeling a sudden dread, Jerin knelt down to exam the footprint. It was deep, forcing the springy clover several inches into the dirt beneath it. Whatever did this had to be huge! Scanning the nearby area, he saw other dimples in the turf. Its' stride must be five feet or more! Almost paniced now, Jerin shot to his feet, staring franticly into the surrounding darkness. The sudden lack of night sounds was an ominous sign; it was the dead silence of fear. The tracks head back towards the camp! NightFeather! I have to warn him!
Running, stretching his long legs to their fullest, silence ignored for speed, Jerin headed back towards camp. His fevered hope that whatever had destroyed the snare would pass the camp by, or if it didn't, that he would be in time to help his visitor to deal with it. Whatever it was...
(OCC: NightFeather, feel free to go with this or not. Your choice.)
It took only a short time to find the patch of clover in which he had set his snare. It had indeed been trampled, but the foot that had destroyed it was far to large for NightFeather. Indeed, it was as long as Jerin's forearm. Feeling a sudden dread, Jerin knelt down to exam the footprint. It was deep, forcing the springy clover several inches into the dirt beneath it. Whatever did this had to be huge! Scanning the nearby area, he saw other dimples in the turf. Its' stride must be five feet or more! Almost paniced now, Jerin shot to his feet, staring franticly into the surrounding darkness. The sudden lack of night sounds was an ominous sign; it was the dead silence of fear. The tracks head back towards the camp! NightFeather! I have to warn him!
Running, stretching his long legs to their fullest, silence ignored for speed, Jerin headed back towards camp. His fevered hope that whatever had destroyed the snare would pass the camp by, or if it didn't, that he would be in time to help his visitor to deal with it. Whatever it was...
(OCC: NightFeather, feel free to go with this or not. Your choice.)
I have drank from the Cup of Despair... And found it sweet indeed.
-
Ashwyn - Stablehand
- Posts: 67
- Joined: Fri Oct 18, 2002 2:20 pm
- Location: Lost somewhere in Colorado
by Nell » Thu Dec 05, 2002 4:00 pm
Hedgehogs are not an unusual sight in the countryside. It does not take sharp eyes to spot a scruffy rolled ball of spikes at a roadside. Nobody saw this lone fellow though, snuffling his way through the long grass of an unplowed field. An ordinary creature, with leaves tangled in short quills and mud on his nose, talking a walk. Occasionally he stops and inspects the air for danger before continuing with dogged purpose. Entering the shade and protection of woods, he does not stop to rest but waggles on until he comes to a peaceful circle of trees. There he finds his destination and halting by a mound of recently disturbed earth, deposits a small, shiny metal oval. With his back legs, the hedgehog ... please, let's not bother to name the cute creature, he is only a small footnote in this tale, after all ... kicks dirt over the abandoned locket before scurrying off to find his dinner.
-
Nell - Stablehand
- Posts: 177
- Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
- Location: England, UK
by Harthar » Sun Dec 08, 2002 7:25 am
OOC: Strom remember, no prier training, meaning you can't fix weapons, nor make them, you might be able to make very crude leather armour and fix leather armour but thats about it until you get training.
IC:
Clyde lay there in his soft bed, his eyes closed his mind wandering in a completely different place, he did not want to return to his body for the moment as it was not a comfortable place to be, he had many wounds all over his body and they stung alot when he returned, but the place he was at at the moment was strange and he could not remember coming here.
He was standing in a large throne room in thick robes of purple with gold trimming and silver runes all over. He was shorter then he remembered and many people were looking at him, or were they looking at the person beside him. He turned and saw a man sitting in the throne, he looked to be a king, his eyes dark and he was tall and well built. He wore golden armour that was emblazed with various symbols which depicked heroic acts and battle scenes. But one could tell that this man was not a fake warrior king, because of the muscles in his legs which seemed to have been fine tuned by battle after battle.
The king was in his middle years, not yet old, but no longer young. He seemed to remember this not bothering he king who still enjoyed charging first into battle and yet also enjoyed sitting in the royal garden with his wife and children. How did he know that? He had never before seen this man in his life and yet he knew that the man was a warrior king and was married with children.
Clyde got the aweful feeling that he was experiencing one his prophetous dreams that he would not remember when he awoke from his painless sleep.
The throne room was filled with courtiers and captains and other important people of the kingdom they were in. Most were arguing about something the king had just said but Clyde could not hear them, instead he heared a deep pulsing sound coming from the bottom of the dias.
He moved not of his own free will, but of the will of another. The King stoped his speaking to watch Clyde moving to the stairs and then down them soundless words being spoken.
But Clyde moved on, his own lips moving and these words he heard, but did not understand. Strange spidery words of a language long since past passed from his lips and a strange invigourating feeling filled his blood. Energy that he never thought he had he focused with the movements of his slender, delicate and yet strong fingers. Once the last word passed from his mouth and the last gesture was completed, a person appeared where he had been watching earlier. A figure in black robes with pitch blade skin and white hair.
Clyde seemed to recognize the creature and yet... he didn't. More spidery words passed through his lips as more gestures were iniated. This was a smaller spell, but an effective one. From his fingers the energy was focused into heat and instead of intense heat flowing from his fingers, fire burst forth and flew at the dark skinned man.
The man brought his own hands up and spoke his own words whilst motioning and before the fire could damage the dakr skinned man they were pushed aside by an invisible force which now surrounded the dark skinned creature.
Clyde was already half-way through his next casting, not having waited to see if his first attack had hit, he quickly finished and thrust his hand forward toward the shield of air. Then spoke two more spidery words and fire once more flew at the dark creature, but it was directed at the exact spot that clyde had thrust his hand at moments before.
The fire hit the dark skinned creature this time, and its robes burst into flames. Clyde was casting once more and with a delicate and graceful swing of his head, the dark skinned man flew from his feet, through the air and into the nearest brick wall. By the time all this had occured the captains and guards within the room ha drawn their swords and moved in on the dark skinned creature.
Clyde did not cast again as he watched sword after sword brought up over their heads and then brought down to slice into the dark flesh.
Clyde felt a warmth on his hand then and closed his eyes, only open them again and to look at a completely different scene to what he had been looking at before, which he could now not remember at all. He felt the warmth coming from the hand of a woman and he realised then that it was Nell who was holding his hand and speaking to him. For a moment he could not hear her words, nor could he feel the pain within his body and he smiled.
But just as he did the pain returned and so did the words. His smile turned into a grimace and he tensed his muscles as he fought the pain, fought for conciousness. He heard her words about waking up because they needed to travel and saw the truth in it. The battle had only been the beginning, he could feel that, and he needed to get up.
He summoned his strength and sat up in the bed.
"Nell..."
His voice was a whispered croke and he coughed and then began again.
"Nell... I can't walk yet, too much pain. I... am sorry I could not... save your brother..."
He brought her hand up to his face and kissed her nuckles befoe giving a slight smile and letting his head lean back against the wall and once more he went to sleep. But this was a dreamless sleep.
IC:
Clyde lay there in his soft bed, his eyes closed his mind wandering in a completely different place, he did not want to return to his body for the moment as it was not a comfortable place to be, he had many wounds all over his body and they stung alot when he returned, but the place he was at at the moment was strange and he could not remember coming here.
He was standing in a large throne room in thick robes of purple with gold trimming and silver runes all over. He was shorter then he remembered and many people were looking at him, or were they looking at the person beside him. He turned and saw a man sitting in the throne, he looked to be a king, his eyes dark and he was tall and well built. He wore golden armour that was emblazed with various symbols which depicked heroic acts and battle scenes. But one could tell that this man was not a fake warrior king, because of the muscles in his legs which seemed to have been fine tuned by battle after battle.
The king was in his middle years, not yet old, but no longer young. He seemed to remember this not bothering he king who still enjoyed charging first into battle and yet also enjoyed sitting in the royal garden with his wife and children. How did he know that? He had never before seen this man in his life and yet he knew that the man was a warrior king and was married with children.
Clyde got the aweful feeling that he was experiencing one his prophetous dreams that he would not remember when he awoke from his painless sleep.
The throne room was filled with courtiers and captains and other important people of the kingdom they were in. Most were arguing about something the king had just said but Clyde could not hear them, instead he heared a deep pulsing sound coming from the bottom of the dias.
He moved not of his own free will, but of the will of another. The King stoped his speaking to watch Clyde moving to the stairs and then down them soundless words being spoken.
But Clyde moved on, his own lips moving and these words he heard, but did not understand. Strange spidery words of a language long since past passed from his lips and a strange invigourating feeling filled his blood. Energy that he never thought he had he focused with the movements of his slender, delicate and yet strong fingers. Once the last word passed from his mouth and the last gesture was completed, a person appeared where he had been watching earlier. A figure in black robes with pitch blade skin and white hair.
Clyde seemed to recognize the creature and yet... he didn't. More spidery words passed through his lips as more gestures were iniated. This was a smaller spell, but an effective one. From his fingers the energy was focused into heat and instead of intense heat flowing from his fingers, fire burst forth and flew at the dark skinned man.
The man brought his own hands up and spoke his own words whilst motioning and before the fire could damage the dakr skinned man they were pushed aside by an invisible force which now surrounded the dark skinned creature.
Clyde was already half-way through his next casting, not having waited to see if his first attack had hit, he quickly finished and thrust his hand forward toward the shield of air. Then spoke two more spidery words and fire once more flew at the dark creature, but it was directed at the exact spot that clyde had thrust his hand at moments before.
The fire hit the dark skinned creature this time, and its robes burst into flames. Clyde was casting once more and with a delicate and graceful swing of his head, the dark skinned man flew from his feet, through the air and into the nearest brick wall. By the time all this had occured the captains and guards within the room ha drawn their swords and moved in on the dark skinned creature.
Clyde did not cast again as he watched sword after sword brought up over their heads and then brought down to slice into the dark flesh.
Clyde felt a warmth on his hand then and closed his eyes, only open them again and to look at a completely different scene to what he had been looking at before, which he could now not remember at all. He felt the warmth coming from the hand of a woman and he realised then that it was Nell who was holding his hand and speaking to him. For a moment he could not hear her words, nor could he feel the pain within his body and he smiled.
But just as he did the pain returned and so did the words. His smile turned into a grimace and he tensed his muscles as he fought the pain, fought for conciousness. He heard her words about waking up because they needed to travel and saw the truth in it. The battle had only been the beginning, he could feel that, and he needed to get up.
He summoned his strength and sat up in the bed.
"Nell..."
His voice was a whispered croke and he coughed and then began again.
"Nell... I can't walk yet, too much pain. I... am sorry I could not... save your brother..."
He brought her hand up to his face and kissed her nuckles befoe giving a slight smile and letting his head lean back against the wall and once more he went to sleep. But this was a dreamless sleep.
Master of War
What see you in the horizon's bruised smear
That cannot be blotted out
By the raising of your hand?
What see you in the horizon's bruised smear
That cannot be blotted out
By the raising of your hand?
-
Harthar - War Master
- Posts: 166
- Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
by Nell » Sun Dec 08, 2002 2:23 pm
Nell... I can't walk yet, too much pain. I... am sorry I could not... save your brother...
Her relief at Clyde regaining consciousness for a moment was tempered by her anxiety at his weak state. As he drifted back to sleep, she held his hand for a minute more, then went to check on the situation downstairs. Things were in motion, a small wagon was being loaded with food, tents and a few other essential items. Nell surveyed the scene and thought about what could be done. Perhaps if these items were packed in large saddle bags and one horse loaded, then Clyde could lie in the wagon. Although that would not be comfortable for him, as he would feel every jolt from the road. The stretcher kindly made by the tall stranger would be even worse in that respect, although she did not want to offend him by refusing his gift. All seemed ready, apart from Clyde.
It struck Nell, then, that once they had left, she may never return again to this spot and that she would be leaving behind her brother in his shady grave in the woods. Tempted as she was, to once again go to the magical place which watched over Alfred, she knew she had to be practical. This was no time to go wandering off on her own. Instead, she pulled herself together and went to find Dorek, to inform him of Clyde's weak condition.
Her relief at Clyde regaining consciousness for a moment was tempered by her anxiety at his weak state. As he drifted back to sleep, she held his hand for a minute more, then went to check on the situation downstairs. Things were in motion, a small wagon was being loaded with food, tents and a few other essential items. Nell surveyed the scene and thought about what could be done. Perhaps if these items were packed in large saddle bags and one horse loaded, then Clyde could lie in the wagon. Although that would not be comfortable for him, as he would feel every jolt from the road. The stretcher kindly made by the tall stranger would be even worse in that respect, although she did not want to offend him by refusing his gift. All seemed ready, apart from Clyde.
It struck Nell, then, that once they had left, she may never return again to this spot and that she would be leaving behind her brother in his shady grave in the woods. Tempted as she was, to once again go to the magical place which watched over Alfred, she knew she had to be practical. This was no time to go wandering off on her own. Instead, she pulled herself together and went to find Dorek, to inform him of Clyde's weak condition.
-
Nell - Stablehand
- Posts: 177
- Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
- Location: England, UK
by Ashwyn » Sat Dec 21, 2002 2:22 pm
Lungs burning with exertion and fear, Jerin ran. When he was simply walking out to check his snare, the distance to the camp didn’t seem so far. But now everything seemed to take on a nightmare-like quality, in which the camp that was supposed to be close by was now an unreachable goal. No matter how fast or how long he ran, it would not be enough. Brambles, that he didn’t remember passing on the way to the snare, tore at his legs, and he nearly turned an ankle on a hidden divot in the ground. I’m lost! The thought was a wail, the frightened cry of a child. Somehow in his haste to reach the camp, he had managed to lose his way. Sobbing now, fear like a hungry beast clawing at his soul, Jerin stopped running by a boulder he didn’t recognize. His lungs burned for air his nose, stopped up tight from crying, couldn’t capture. He leaned against the boulder to rest, and was startled to find the rock warm. I new jolt of fear flashed through his haze thoughts, but not fast enough.
With a terrible roar, the “boulder†got to its feet, a ham-like hand casually slapping Jerin in the chest. The young shepherd flew away, his chest on fire, his vision blacking out. He hit the ground hard, his momentum unspent, as he rolled across the turf. Jerin finally came to a bone bruising halt against a sapling. He screaming in pain as his body tried to curl itself about the agony that speared through his chest. Lumbering footsteps shuffled toward Jerin, accompanied by an obscene snuffling. Jerin forced himself to his knees, telling himself that he didn’t hurt as bad as the time his father’s prize ram had caught him unprepared, and knew that he was lying to himself. His ribs were cracked at best, and quite possibly broken. His gray eyes, still blurred by tears, looked back towards where the “boulder†had rested. It would seem I found the origin of the tracks. The though seemed so absurd it made him giddy and forced a pain filled chuckle through his clenched teeth. The creature was over ten feet tall with massive slabs of muscle covering its entire body. Ape-like arms ended in massive hands tipped with deadly claws. The brutish face could almost be mistaken for human if you ignored the knife-like tusks jutting from its jaw, or the brow that sloped a little too much. For clothes it wore only a rotting animal skin around its waist. Cruel malice burned in its beady obsidian eyes, and in them, Jerin saw his death.
With a terrible roar, the “boulder†got to its feet, a ham-like hand casually slapping Jerin in the chest. The young shepherd flew away, his chest on fire, his vision blacking out. He hit the ground hard, his momentum unspent, as he rolled across the turf. Jerin finally came to a bone bruising halt against a sapling. He screaming in pain as his body tried to curl itself about the agony that speared through his chest. Lumbering footsteps shuffled toward Jerin, accompanied by an obscene snuffling. Jerin forced himself to his knees, telling himself that he didn’t hurt as bad as the time his father’s prize ram had caught him unprepared, and knew that he was lying to himself. His ribs were cracked at best, and quite possibly broken. His gray eyes, still blurred by tears, looked back towards where the “boulder†had rested. It would seem I found the origin of the tracks. The though seemed so absurd it made him giddy and forced a pain filled chuckle through his clenched teeth. The creature was over ten feet tall with massive slabs of muscle covering its entire body. Ape-like arms ended in massive hands tipped with deadly claws. The brutish face could almost be mistaken for human if you ignored the knife-like tusks jutting from its jaw, or the brow that sloped a little too much. For clothes it wore only a rotting animal skin around its waist. Cruel malice burned in its beady obsidian eyes, and in them, Jerin saw his death.
I have drank from the Cup of Despair... And found it sweet indeed.
-
Ashwyn - Stablehand
- Posts: 67
- Joined: Fri Oct 18, 2002 2:20 pm
- Location: Lost somewhere in Colorado
by Ashwyn » Sun Dec 22, 2002 6:23 pm
Jerin pushed himself to his feet, using the sapling that had broken his fall (and his ribs) as a crutch. The creature continued its slow advance, gnarled hands flexing in anticipation. As he realized that he really was going to die, a strange peace settled over Jerin, calming his fear. At the same time a lava-like surge of reaction-driven adrenaline washed away some of his pain, and left the world crystal clear. Time seemed to slow, and it seemed that Jerin had all the time in the world to duck beneath the brutes massive arm as it arced toward him. Unfortunately he wasn't as fast as he thought. Lines of pain tore down his back in a fiery wave as the monster's talons laid open his flesh. Even as he screamed in pain he used the force of the blow to push him past the beast's side, and lashed out with the blade strapped to his arm. The weapon rebounded off the tough hide, leaving only a shallow gash across the back of one hairy leg. Feeling suddenly betrayed, Jerin groaned to his feet again. He knew he was in no condition to outrun this thing, and now it seemed his only weapon was useless!
The creature turned, a deep rumbling chuckle passing its fleshy lips. The mocking sound enraged Jerin, sending him into a berserker charge that would surely end in his painful death. Screaming at the top of his lungs, Jerin aimed his weapon at the monsters navel, hoping the leathery hide was thinner there. A look of unholy glee screwed the monster's face into even more hideous lines as it crouched to meet the little fool who charged it. From behind the two combatants came a ratcheting sound, followed by a soft hiss, but both boy and beast were too busy to notice. Fear once again swamped Jerin's mind as he continued his charge, something he now realized was what his great uncle would have called "a very bad idea." He clenched his eyes against the death he knew to be coming for him even now, and so only heard the meaty thwack. It sounded a little like when a cupped palm slapped a wet back. The image almost made Jerin smile as the weight of the world smashed him to the ground.
The creature turned, a deep rumbling chuckle passing its fleshy lips. The mocking sound enraged Jerin, sending him into a berserker charge that would surely end in his painful death. Screaming at the top of his lungs, Jerin aimed his weapon at the monsters navel, hoping the leathery hide was thinner there. A look of unholy glee screwed the monster's face into even more hideous lines as it crouched to meet the little fool who charged it. From behind the two combatants came a ratcheting sound, followed by a soft hiss, but both boy and beast were too busy to notice. Fear once again swamped Jerin's mind as he continued his charge, something he now realized was what his great uncle would have called "a very bad idea." He clenched his eyes against the death he knew to be coming for him even now, and so only heard the meaty thwack. It sounded a little like when a cupped palm slapped a wet back. The image almost made Jerin smile as the weight of the world smashed him to the ground.
I have drank from the Cup of Despair... And found it sweet indeed.
-
Ashwyn - Stablehand
- Posts: 67
- Joined: Fri Oct 18, 2002 2:20 pm
- Location: Lost somewhere in Colorado
by Nell » Sun Dec 22, 2002 6:25 pm
Dorek listened to the tall man who stood before him. "Well, Strombus, if you wish to come with us, you are welcome. I thank you for your help. But we leave immediately so be ready." Dorek gave a grim smile and turned to gather together his remaining possessions.
Nell entered the room, brushing past Strombus quickly. She quickly told Dorek of what had been prepared and of Clyde's condition. Her face was covered with anxiety and Dorek saw the worry clouding her mind. He nodded brusquely. "It can't be helped. We have to leave now, even though Clyde is not able to ride. It will slow us down, but ..." It was not a good situation. More soldiers would be on their way soon and they needed to get to safety before then. No way would they be able to take on a new assault. Although three were left able to fight, all had taken injuries from which rest was needed to recover fully. "Make the waggon as comfortable as possible and have Clyde laid in there. And get half of the supplies removed. We will stop where possible at taverns on our way. We have to travel light."
Nell nodded, understanding the need to travel quickly. She paused before leaving the room. "Where are we going to?"
Dorek grunted in reply. "Anywhere that puts as much distance between us and the soldiers."
Nell entered the room, brushing past Strombus quickly. She quickly told Dorek of what had been prepared and of Clyde's condition. Her face was covered with anxiety and Dorek saw the worry clouding her mind. He nodded brusquely. "It can't be helped. We have to leave now, even though Clyde is not able to ride. It will slow us down, but ..." It was not a good situation. More soldiers would be on their way soon and they needed to get to safety before then. No way would they be able to take on a new assault. Although three were left able to fight, all had taken injuries from which rest was needed to recover fully. "Make the waggon as comfortable as possible and have Clyde laid in there. And get half of the supplies removed. We will stop where possible at taverns on our way. We have to travel light."
Nell nodded, understanding the need to travel quickly. She paused before leaving the room. "Where are we going to?"
Dorek grunted in reply. "Anywhere that puts as much distance between us and the soldiers."
-
Nell - Stablehand
- Posts: 177
- Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
- Location: England, UK
by Nell » Mon Dec 23, 2002 4:28 pm
It was late afternoon by the time the party began its journey. Leaving behind the Damon estate, the small band made its way along the dusty road, led by Dorek. Nell rode at the rear on her grey mare, leading her brother's horse by its reins. Clyde lay in the wagon, covered by a blanket and cushioned as far as possible from the jolts and bumps of the road's rough surface. He had not regained consciousness since that moment in his room and Nell feared for him. Rest was the only cure for him now, not some mad trek through the country, but the alternative of staying put was a greater risk. The young woman shuddered as she recalled the blood and horror of the attack that morning.
But she pushed the memory away along with the more painful one that she forbad her mind to dwell on. Setting her face as stone, she lifted her chin and looked forward. She would think only of practical matters. Determination set in her eyes. She would not be conquered by grief.
Dorek had still not shared with her where they were headed to. For a moment she considered suggesting they headed to Triber, where her uncle's academy was located. There they would find men trained to fight in a good number. However it was a good 12 day's journey and perhaps even longer with their patient. Besides, Dorek probably knows exactly where we are going. Most likely the nearest city, to warn the Governor of the province of the impending danger...
In the distant skies, thunder rumbled ominously.
But she pushed the memory away along with the more painful one that she forbad her mind to dwell on. Setting her face as stone, she lifted her chin and looked forward. She would think only of practical matters. Determination set in her eyes. She would not be conquered by grief.
Dorek had still not shared with her where they were headed to. For a moment she considered suggesting they headed to Triber, where her uncle's academy was located. There they would find men trained to fight in a good number. However it was a good 12 day's journey and perhaps even longer with their patient. Besides, Dorek probably knows exactly where we are going. Most likely the nearest city, to warn the Governor of the province of the impending danger...
In the distant skies, thunder rumbled ominously.
-
Nell - Stablehand
- Posts: 177
- Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
- Location: England, UK
by Ashwyn » Tue Dec 24, 2002 1:37 pm
Jerin floated in a globe of light amdist a sea of darkness, like a single lonely star burning in the night sky. The light was warm and comforable, filling Jerin with life. Outside, the darkness boiled with terrible things. Half-seen shapes that crawled and writhed just beyond the light, flashes of bloody claws and fangs waiting to rend him. But the light held them at bay. The light, and the music. A song of haunting beauty that wrapped around Jerin like a warm blanket, that comforted him like an old friend. The music took away Jerin's pain, soothed his fears, and worked to make him whole again. Abandoning himself to the light and sound, Jerin slept as his wounded, feverish body was cared for by gentle, knowing hands.
I have drank from the Cup of Despair... And found it sweet indeed.
-
Ashwyn - Stablehand
- Posts: 67
- Joined: Fri Oct 18, 2002 2:20 pm
- Location: Lost somewhere in Colorado
by Nell » Tue Dec 24, 2002 4:02 pm
It was proving to be a difficult journey. They had put many miles between themselves and the attack of the soldiers but their progress was hampered by a thunderstorm which had now turned into sheets of rain. Heavy drops fell into Nell's face as she blinked rain out of her eyes trying to see the way ahead. Silently they moved onwards, any sound of horse hooves muffled by the road which was becoming a mire of mud. She feared the wheels of the wagon becoming stuck fast. Inside, under a makeshift tent, Clyde lay, unaware of the rain or anything else in his dreamless state.
At the head of the small party, Dorek reined in his mount. He turned in his saddle to Nell and pointed ahead. She followed to where he indicated and in the distance she could see a grey and misty outline of buildings that formed a city on the horizon. It was about an hours ride away, but she nodded and waved at Dorek. Hopefully they would have shelter for the night within a tavern. Slowly the drenched travellers pressed on.
At the head of the small party, Dorek reined in his mount. He turned in his saddle to Nell and pointed ahead. She followed to where he indicated and in the distance she could see a grey and misty outline of buildings that formed a city on the horizon. It was about an hours ride away, but she nodded and waved at Dorek. Hopefully they would have shelter for the night within a tavern. Slowly the drenched travellers pressed on.
-
Nell - Stablehand
- Posts: 177
- Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
- Location: England, UK
by Nell » Thu Dec 26, 2002 3:39 pm
The gates to the city on first sight appeared closed.
The travellers had followed the road to the city, their progress improving as the dirt track changed to cobblestone as they neared. However the rain continued so that anything that had been dry previously was now soaked through. Nell shivered as the walls of the city loomed before them. She did not know the name of the city but from all appearances it seemed well protected from the outside. Tall stone walls stretched above their party and as she looked to the tops of the walls she could make out shadowy figures in the gloom of the rainstorm and gathering dusk.
They came to a halt infront of what appeared to be the main city gates. Nell watched as Dorek slammed his fist in a resounding knock against the solid wooden doors. She felt utterly miserable as there was no response. Dorek tried again, this time shouting for attention.
Why are the gates shut? It is barely dark ... Nell tried to not feel despair as she closed her eyes against the rain.
The travellers had followed the road to the city, their progress improving as the dirt track changed to cobblestone as they neared. However the rain continued so that anything that had been dry previously was now soaked through. Nell shivered as the walls of the city loomed before them. She did not know the name of the city but from all appearances it seemed well protected from the outside. Tall stone walls stretched above their party and as she looked to the tops of the walls she could make out shadowy figures in the gloom of the rainstorm and gathering dusk.
They came to a halt infront of what appeared to be the main city gates. Nell watched as Dorek slammed his fist in a resounding knock against the solid wooden doors. She felt utterly miserable as there was no response. Dorek tried again, this time shouting for attention.
Why are the gates shut? It is barely dark ... Nell tried to not feel despair as she closed her eyes against the rain.
-
Nell - Stablehand
- Posts: 177
- Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
- Location: England, UK
by Nell » Thu Jan 02, 2003 4:37 pm
Finally the gates were opened ... about a foot wide. A tall broad man dressed in a dark cloak that partially concealed dull armour, appeared in the gap. He held a torch in his hand which fought to stay lit in the falling rain, but which cast enough light on his face to show distrust in his glance on their small group. Nell could not hear the conversation between the gateman and Dorek, but when Dorek turned to indicate his travelling companions, she pushed her hood back so that the gateman could see she was just a harmless woman. It seemed to take an interminable length of time and Nell thought she saw money change hands, but eventually the gates opened wide and their party was allowed to enter. Relief flooded through the young woman as she passed under the walls, nodding at the gate man who continued to scowl at the newcomers. She didn't care. They were in and could hopefully find shelter for the night.
-
Nell - Stablehand
- Posts: 177
- Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
- Location: England, UK
by Ashwyn » Sun Jan 05, 2003 10:39 pm
Jerin awoke to the smell of smoke, and the feel of a scratchy blanket rubbing against his skin. His throat was as dry as grave dust and his skin felt too small for his body. It was especially tight across his back, where he felt four jagged lines of pain. Shifting his shoulders pulled at the wounds, reviving the memory of his desperate fight. The memory seemed fuzzy, like everything else for that matter. Opening fever gummed eyes, he saw through a haze what he thought was a small campfire. Feeling the stitches in his back, and seeing the flickering light of the fire flushed Jerin's clouded mind with even more confusion. "Shouldn't I be dead?" he ask aloud, though his voice came out as a whispery croak.
"Ah, your awake at last!" The words were spoken by a deep voice, full of strength and texture. It brought an image of a majestic mountain peak to mind. Lifting his head a few inches took nearly all Jerin's strength, but did allow him to see the man sitting beyond the fire. He had short brown hair with small wedges of white at the temples. His luminous green eyes examined Jerin with concern, and he gave the youth a gentle smile. "You had me worried for a while there. I have not as much strength in the Healing Arts as I could wish, and your fever was high. For a time I thought I had lost you." The man's smile broadened with good humor. "But now it seems you are doing much better. So why don't you tell me why you were doing out in the middle of the night fighting an Orog with nothing more than a glorified short sword. Were you looking to die? If so, there are far less painful ways to go about it. Or perhaps you were trying to prove your courage?" The questions made Jerin's head spin, and he let it flop back to the saddle bag that acted as his pillow. The man's smile dimmed, and his voice softened. "Forgive me, I pray. Here you have just recovered from a terrible ordeal, and I start badgering you with questions as soon as you waken. Sometimes my curiosity gets the better of me." The man's smile turned to a grin, giving his face an almost boyish look, and impish humor danced in his green eyes. "Where are my manners? My name is Darrius, and you are?"
"I am Jerin Terradoc." Jerin replied, his voice still rough and rusty sounding. "If you don't mind, could you explain how I got here? The last thing I remember was charging that monster, an Orog you called it? After that, I only remember darkness." Jerin's words had a strange effect on Darrius. The man suddenly looked away, and seemed to be taken with a coughing fit. When the fit had passed, Darrius noisily cleared his throat. "Well, as to that. I killed the beast and rescued you." He said, patting something beside him. Jerin again lifted his head, focusing blurry eyes on the object. Darrius' hand lovingly patted a large wooden crossbow. "I see. But still, what happened? You say you killed it, but I can't remember you doing it. Jerin's voice was filled with frustration at his inability to remember.
"I shall start at the beginning. I was riding that night, which by the way was three days ago. While I was riding I heard your scream and went to investigate. By the time I got to you, you had already been rather gravely injured. Deciding to intervene, I readied my crossbow and shot. Unfortunately, while my bolt took the Orog through the back of the head, killing it, you were already to close. In the end, the Orog fell on you." Darrius chuckled once again, but Jerin saw nothing funny. The young man glared over the fire at the older. Meeting his stare, Darrius began to hum softly. Jerin felt his outrage fade, more because of sudden exhaustion than from forgiveness. The young man felt his eyes growing heavy. "That's right lad, go to sleep. Dawn is still a few hours away yet, and you will feel better in the morning." Darrius' voice had become almost hypnotic. As sleep once again overcame him, Jerin heard the first soft strains of music.
"Ah, your awake at last!" The words were spoken by a deep voice, full of strength and texture. It brought an image of a majestic mountain peak to mind. Lifting his head a few inches took nearly all Jerin's strength, but did allow him to see the man sitting beyond the fire. He had short brown hair with small wedges of white at the temples. His luminous green eyes examined Jerin with concern, and he gave the youth a gentle smile. "You had me worried for a while there. I have not as much strength in the Healing Arts as I could wish, and your fever was high. For a time I thought I had lost you." The man's smile broadened with good humor. "But now it seems you are doing much better. So why don't you tell me why you were doing out in the middle of the night fighting an Orog with nothing more than a glorified short sword. Were you looking to die? If so, there are far less painful ways to go about it. Or perhaps you were trying to prove your courage?" The questions made Jerin's head spin, and he let it flop back to the saddle bag that acted as his pillow. The man's smile dimmed, and his voice softened. "Forgive me, I pray. Here you have just recovered from a terrible ordeal, and I start badgering you with questions as soon as you waken. Sometimes my curiosity gets the better of me." The man's smile turned to a grin, giving his face an almost boyish look, and impish humor danced in his green eyes. "Where are my manners? My name is Darrius, and you are?"
"I am Jerin Terradoc." Jerin replied, his voice still rough and rusty sounding. "If you don't mind, could you explain how I got here? The last thing I remember was charging that monster, an Orog you called it? After that, I only remember darkness." Jerin's words had a strange effect on Darrius. The man suddenly looked away, and seemed to be taken with a coughing fit. When the fit had passed, Darrius noisily cleared his throat. "Well, as to that. I killed the beast and rescued you." He said, patting something beside him. Jerin again lifted his head, focusing blurry eyes on the object. Darrius' hand lovingly patted a large wooden crossbow. "I see. But still, what happened? You say you killed it, but I can't remember you doing it. Jerin's voice was filled with frustration at his inability to remember.
"I shall start at the beginning. I was riding that night, which by the way was three days ago. While I was riding I heard your scream and went to investigate. By the time I got to you, you had already been rather gravely injured. Deciding to intervene, I readied my crossbow and shot. Unfortunately, while my bolt took the Orog through the back of the head, killing it, you were already to close. In the end, the Orog fell on you." Darrius chuckled once again, but Jerin saw nothing funny. The young man glared over the fire at the older. Meeting his stare, Darrius began to hum softly. Jerin felt his outrage fade, more because of sudden exhaustion than from forgiveness. The young man felt his eyes growing heavy. "That's right lad, go to sleep. Dawn is still a few hours away yet, and you will feel better in the morning." Darrius' voice had become almost hypnotic. As sleep once again overcame him, Jerin heard the first soft strains of music.
I have drank from the Cup of Despair... And found it sweet indeed.
-
Ashwyn - Stablehand
- Posts: 67
- Joined: Fri Oct 18, 2002 2:20 pm
- Location: Lost somewhere in Colorado
by Nell » Mon Jan 06, 2003 10:19 am
The streets were empty save for a few figures huddled in cloaks against the dismal weather. Life, however, was apparent, glimpsed through windows of hovels where fires burned in hearths, casting a yellow glow into the cobbled lanes. They were in the poorer district of the city and dank smells thronged the air, hinting at gutters filled with waste better left unmentioned. They moved at a steady pace, following Dorek's lead. At the rear, Nell observed him take twists and turns which seemed to indicate he knew this place well. She was glad. The journey on top of the events of the morning had taken its toll and she was weary, both emotionally as well as physically.
Finally they stopped outside a courtyard on the edge of the district, which led to a large building that promised a welcome. Shadows of people flitted across the windows and laughter and raised voices could be heard. A young lad approached the party, holding a storm lantern high. He had a nervous look to him, perhaps unfortunately enhanced by eyes that were large and round. What's your business here? His voice was high pitched and slightly lisping as he addressed them. Nell smiled to herself despite her misery. He couldn't be any more than fourteen.
Good evening, lad. We seek rooms at this inn, and shelter for our horses for the night. She spoke clear and warmly. The lantern was swung to cast its light on her and the boy nodded. Aye, miss. Around the back, there's stabling there and I'll get the ostler to see to your horses. There's room enough. The lad left to go back to the doorway of the Inn whilst the travellers rode their horses to the back. It wouldn't be long before they were safe inside. And warm... and dry ...
Finally they stopped outside a courtyard on the edge of the district, which led to a large building that promised a welcome. Shadows of people flitted across the windows and laughter and raised voices could be heard. A young lad approached the party, holding a storm lantern high. He had a nervous look to him, perhaps unfortunately enhanced by eyes that were large and round. What's your business here? His voice was high pitched and slightly lisping as he addressed them. Nell smiled to herself despite her misery. He couldn't be any more than fourteen.
Good evening, lad. We seek rooms at this inn, and shelter for our horses for the night. She spoke clear and warmly. The lantern was swung to cast its light on her and the boy nodded. Aye, miss. Around the back, there's stabling there and I'll get the ostler to see to your horses. There's room enough. The lad left to go back to the doorway of the Inn whilst the travellers rode their horses to the back. It wouldn't be long before they were safe inside. And warm... and dry ...
-
Nell - Stablehand
- Posts: 177
- Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
- Location: England, UK
by Ashwyn » Mon Jan 06, 2003 11:43 am
Once again Jerin awoke to the feel of the scratchy blanket. True to Darrius' word, Jerin did indeed feel better. His back still hurt, his ribs still ached, but his head was clear. Cautiously moving his arm under the blanket increased the ache in his ribs, but didn't start the screaming agony he had feared. Heartened, Jerin carefully pushed himself upright, letting the blanket slide to his waist. His shirt was gone, replaced by a thick wrapping of bandages tightly secured around his chest. The bandage made breathing a little difficult, but Jerin didn't think that taking deep breaths would be a good idea for a while anyway. The thin light of dawn just peaked over the eastern horizon as Jerin examined the camp. The fire must have burned out in the night, leaving a ring of soft ashes. Where Darrius had sat the night before still lay a blanket and what looked like a rolled up shirt, most likely used as a pillow. Of the older man, there was no sign.
A soft snort behind him drew Jerin's attention; loosely tied to a tree stood a sleek looking horse. Jerin knew that he was no expert on horseflesh, but even he could see the quality of this animal. The horse looked at Jerin with a large, liquid brown eye. "Nice horse" he said, feeling somewhat foolish. His voice seemed acceptable though, and the horse went munching at the grass around the trees' base. "His name is Tean'wyr. It means Wind Soul in an old tongue." Jerin looked back across the camp to see Darrius' silent approach. In the light of morning, and with his eyes not clouded by fever, Jerin saw that his rescuer was a very large man. Not tall really, for Jerin was taller, just built big. The man had massive shoulders, a wide chest, with arms nearly as big around as Jerin's leg, and legs nearly as big as Jerin's chest! The one thing that didn't match the rest of him was Darrius' hands. While they were large, they were built thick like the rest of him. Instead, they were long and thin; the fingers supple and dexterous. After finishing his survey of his rescuer, Jerin noted what the man was carrying. Casually thrown over Darrius' massive shoulders was a wild pig. The thought of fresh bacon set Jerin's mouth to watering. For his part, Darrius endured the youth's scrutiny, then laughed when he noticed the avid stare Jerin was giving the pig. "I would imagine you are very hungry. After all, you've been living on weak broth and healing teas for days now. Give me a few minutes to dress this out a bit, then we shall break our fast."
Darrius made quick work of skinning his prize, and cut thin strips of meat to roast over the fire when he saw that the fire had gone out. Shrugging his shoulders, the big man cleared his throat, then sang a note. Jerin was confused by Darrius' action, and even more confused as to the sudden vibration he felt deep in his chest. It felt almost like someone was calling him. As Darrius continued to sing the note; the call became more insistent, making Jerin fidget. Finally, when it seemed that Jerin would have to stand and go over to Darrius, a tiny flame appeared in the circle of ashes. Darrius quickly fed some wood to the hungry flame, and it began to burn brightly. Jerin stared at the flame as though he had never seen fire before. In a way, he hadn't. For as he watched this flame, he could also hear it. Not the hissing and popping of the wood as it burned, but the fire itself. The Flame was singing, and next to the sound, Darrius' note was but a pale imitation. With wonder dancing in his gray eyes, the Flames song still ringing in his ears, Jerin looked to Darrius. For a moment the older man looked stunned, but then he smiled, his eyes dancing with joy. "By the Gods, boy! You're a Bard!"
A soft snort behind him drew Jerin's attention; loosely tied to a tree stood a sleek looking horse. Jerin knew that he was no expert on horseflesh, but even he could see the quality of this animal. The horse looked at Jerin with a large, liquid brown eye. "Nice horse" he said, feeling somewhat foolish. His voice seemed acceptable though, and the horse went munching at the grass around the trees' base. "His name is Tean'wyr. It means Wind Soul in an old tongue." Jerin looked back across the camp to see Darrius' silent approach. In the light of morning, and with his eyes not clouded by fever, Jerin saw that his rescuer was a very large man. Not tall really, for Jerin was taller, just built big. The man had massive shoulders, a wide chest, with arms nearly as big around as Jerin's leg, and legs nearly as big as Jerin's chest! The one thing that didn't match the rest of him was Darrius' hands. While they were large, they were built thick like the rest of him. Instead, they were long and thin; the fingers supple and dexterous. After finishing his survey of his rescuer, Jerin noted what the man was carrying. Casually thrown over Darrius' massive shoulders was a wild pig. The thought of fresh bacon set Jerin's mouth to watering. For his part, Darrius endured the youth's scrutiny, then laughed when he noticed the avid stare Jerin was giving the pig. "I would imagine you are very hungry. After all, you've been living on weak broth and healing teas for days now. Give me a few minutes to dress this out a bit, then we shall break our fast."
Darrius made quick work of skinning his prize, and cut thin strips of meat to roast over the fire when he saw that the fire had gone out. Shrugging his shoulders, the big man cleared his throat, then sang a note. Jerin was confused by Darrius' action, and even more confused as to the sudden vibration he felt deep in his chest. It felt almost like someone was calling him. As Darrius continued to sing the note; the call became more insistent, making Jerin fidget. Finally, when it seemed that Jerin would have to stand and go over to Darrius, a tiny flame appeared in the circle of ashes. Darrius quickly fed some wood to the hungry flame, and it began to burn brightly. Jerin stared at the flame as though he had never seen fire before. In a way, he hadn't. For as he watched this flame, he could also hear it. Not the hissing and popping of the wood as it burned, but the fire itself. The Flame was singing, and next to the sound, Darrius' note was but a pale imitation. With wonder dancing in his gray eyes, the Flames song still ringing in his ears, Jerin looked to Darrius. For a moment the older man looked stunned, but then he smiled, his eyes dancing with joy. "By the Gods, boy! You're a Bard!"
I have drank from the Cup of Despair... And found it sweet indeed.
-
Ashwyn - Stablehand
- Posts: 67
- Joined: Fri Oct 18, 2002 2:20 pm
- Location: Lost somewhere in Colorado
by Nell » Sat Jan 18, 2003 4:11 pm
OOC: Stromdus, until you tell me otherwise, or post, am going to assume you are with Clyde and the rest.
IC: Nell warmed her hands as she stood before the dancing flames in the hearth. They were stood in the main room of the tavern to one side, Dorek supporting Clyde who, although standing, was barely conscious. Stromdus was still outside, helping to unload from the wagon items that could not be left for passing thieves. The tavern was busy, but not so that it was crowded. Most of the activity was around the large bar that jutted out into the room, leaving several tables free of drinkers. To Nell's eyes, it was a smoky, dark drinking-hole, lit by candles leaving many corners of the timbered room in shadow. Their arrival had excited little interest, but the innkeeper had approached them and nodded at their request for rooms. Leaving them to wait, he had shuffled off to make the arrangements.
As they waited, Nell's stomach had woken, the meaty aroma of some unidentifiable stew being cooked in an adjourning room. Tired and wet from their journey, she was nevertheless relieved they had arrived at a place where shelter and food were offered. Her eyes sought Dorek's and he smiled quietly at her, the same thoughts in his mind. But before they would eat, they would attend to Clyde, changing his bandages and keeping him warm. His condition still worried Nell. He had barely managed to stand when they had roused the injured young man from his deep sleep.
On the return of the innkeeper, they were informed that there was only one room available, but it was large, with beds for all. Shrugging, Dorek accepted. Perhaps it would be better if they were all together. Dropping some coins into the innkeeps large hands, they went up the staircase towards the back of the room, following a serving-girl who held a candle high to light the way.
IC: Nell warmed her hands as she stood before the dancing flames in the hearth. They were stood in the main room of the tavern to one side, Dorek supporting Clyde who, although standing, was barely conscious. Stromdus was still outside, helping to unload from the wagon items that could not be left for passing thieves. The tavern was busy, but not so that it was crowded. Most of the activity was around the large bar that jutted out into the room, leaving several tables free of drinkers. To Nell's eyes, it was a smoky, dark drinking-hole, lit by candles leaving many corners of the timbered room in shadow. Their arrival had excited little interest, but the innkeeper had approached them and nodded at their request for rooms. Leaving them to wait, he had shuffled off to make the arrangements.
As they waited, Nell's stomach had woken, the meaty aroma of some unidentifiable stew being cooked in an adjourning room. Tired and wet from their journey, she was nevertheless relieved they had arrived at a place where shelter and food were offered. Her eyes sought Dorek's and he smiled quietly at her, the same thoughts in his mind. But before they would eat, they would attend to Clyde, changing his bandages and keeping him warm. His condition still worried Nell. He had barely managed to stand when they had roused the injured young man from his deep sleep.
On the return of the innkeeper, they were informed that there was only one room available, but it was large, with beds for all. Shrugging, Dorek accepted. Perhaps it would be better if they were all together. Dropping some coins into the innkeeps large hands, they went up the staircase towards the back of the room, following a serving-girl who held a candle high to light the way.
-
Nell - Stablehand
- Posts: 177
- Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
- Location: England, UK
by Stromdus » Mon Jan 20, 2003 11:34 am
ooc: sorry about my lack of posting lately. Been a little too busy to post.
Being told what room they were staying in, stromdus continued to bring the valuables in for the tavern-keeper to care for. Carrying in the last of the valuable items from the wagon, Stromdus sets the heavy chest of clothing down on the floor of the room. Normally, this box wouldn't have been any trouble, but his insides were starting to hurt more than ever, and he was starting to get a fever. He decided to look at his wounds, which had been bothering him ever since they left the mansion.
Removing his tunic, he looks down, and sees a lot of swelling under the bandages, and a yellow substance against the bandages. Stromdus, removing the bandages and seeing the discoloring in the wounds, decides that the swelling is not a good thing. Looking around for something sharp, stromdus finds a small dagger, which he uses to cut open where the yellow stuff seemed to be gathering the most on his wounds, and drains the puss away.
Seeing the rest of his group staring at his wounds, Stromdus begins to feel a little uncomfortable.
My cuts not bad. umm... I go get food now. Bye!
Hurriedly leaving the room, he heads down the stairs, and asks a serving-girl if she could find some bandages for him, and help him wrap his wounds.
Waiting for the serving girl to finish up with his wrap, he pulled a coin out of a secret pouch in his trousers, and presses it into her hand, thanking her. Going to the kitchen, he asks for half of the cauldron of stew for his group. Asking the serving-girl who helped him with his wraps to take bowls and silverware up to the room. Turning to the stew, he takes his half, still a large pot and heads up to the room, ordering to have bread brought up as well. Opening the door he enters and smiles.
I got food!
Being told what room they were staying in, stromdus continued to bring the valuables in for the tavern-keeper to care for. Carrying in the last of the valuable items from the wagon, Stromdus sets the heavy chest of clothing down on the floor of the room. Normally, this box wouldn't have been any trouble, but his insides were starting to hurt more than ever, and he was starting to get a fever. He decided to look at his wounds, which had been bothering him ever since they left the mansion.
Removing his tunic, he looks down, and sees a lot of swelling under the bandages, and a yellow substance against the bandages. Stromdus, removing the bandages and seeing the discoloring in the wounds, decides that the swelling is not a good thing. Looking around for something sharp, stromdus finds a small dagger, which he uses to cut open where the yellow stuff seemed to be gathering the most on his wounds, and drains the puss away.
Seeing the rest of his group staring at his wounds, Stromdus begins to feel a little uncomfortable.
My cuts not bad. umm... I go get food now. Bye!
Hurriedly leaving the room, he heads down the stairs, and asks a serving-girl if she could find some bandages for him, and help him wrap his wounds.
Waiting for the serving girl to finish up with his wrap, he pulled a coin out of a secret pouch in his trousers, and presses it into her hand, thanking her. Going to the kitchen, he asks for half of the cauldron of stew for his group. Asking the serving-girl who helped him with his wraps to take bowls and silverware up to the room. Turning to the stew, he takes his half, still a large pot and heads up to the room, ordering to have bread brought up as well. Opening the door he enters and smiles.
I got food!
-
Stromdus - Stablehand
- Posts: 18
- Joined: Mon Nov 11, 2002 2:11 pm
- Location: Lost in a pit of depression
82 posts
• Page 3 of 4 • 1, 2, 3, 4
Who is online
Users browsing this forum: No registered users