Post by Va'lis on Jan 16, 2012 5:40:36 GMT -5
-This story does not take place on Catskills, or any other shard. But rather in the world created for the Warhammer Fantasy game.-
The hamlet was quiet that eve. Except the pub of course, but in such areas as these... pubs were the only source of amusement or news.
A week or so away from the second closest village, and being located in the middle of a forest, this hamlet barely had anything going for it
at all. A church, blacksmith, several small homes and of course the pub.
The Griffon was a two story building, more ramshackle hut than anything else. Yet here, every night, the locals gathered and spent what coin
they had on cheap ale. This night, business was busier than normal. The owner expected to see the usual assortment, but what really drew
the rest in was the group of knights that had requested a place to stay until the blacksmith had repaired their battle damaged armor.
Settling in, the knights ordered and demanded the cleanest area away from the peasants. Several of them even going so far as to shove their
way past them. All 6 of them were obviously battle tested. The scars covering their faces and arms were evidence enough of that. With the
weather turning steadily worse, they continued drinking and eating long into the night. Each passing moment seeing them become louder and
more demanding than before.
"So Fletcher, how did that venture with the Empire lapdogs go?" One of the knights set down his tankard, grinning over at the largest of the group.
Turning his eyes to his fellow, the one called Fletcher let out a harsh laugh.
"As well as could be expected Vardon. But lucky for them, patience was with me that day." He took a large drink. "Or perhaps I did not wish to see
my blade tarnished with politicans blood such as theirs."
The rest broke into laughter, nodding in agreement with him. Setting his own drink down however, he went on.
"But, as for the meeting... Suffice it to say that our quest will continue on. Unhindered by their church."
Another of the knights leaned back, swallowing a bite of bread before speaking.
"Oh really Fletch? And how'd you manage a feat like that?"
Fletcher turned his head to him and smiled widely.
"Well, Seymour, it was like this. I merely sat down, and reasoned with them." He picked his drink up and tipped it towards Seymour. " As simple as that."
"I see..." Seymour shook his head. "You tossed the man you were meeting into the river didn't you."
"I said I reasoned with them did I not?"
Seymour sighed. "As I thought." There was a silence for several moments before they all broke out into laughter. "Could he swim?"
"He learned how to quickly."
They all started laughing once more when the door opened, letting the cold night air inside. Standing in the doorway was a man leaning heavily on a staff. Clad
in tattered robes, it became quickly evident that he was what the locals called... "A Wanderer". Their term for those without coin or home.
Fletcher laughed again. "Shut the door old man! You're letting the warmth out. So get in, or join what escaped out there!"
The man looked slowly up, his motions unfocused. He looked at the knight for a few seconds before shuffling to the nearest table. The table which happened to
be located next to that occupied by the knights.
Coming quickly over, the barkeep attempted to get an order. But the man remained silent. His mouth forming soundless words.
Fletcher turned slightly, snorting. Up close he could really notice the "wanderer". Hair the color of darkest night was filled with leaves and other products of the forest.
Rags were wrapped about his hands, and the boots were ready to fall apart.
"Perhaps you should get a job old man? Afford things better than what my old dog wouldn't even go near?" His fellows started laughing again while the barkeep frowned.
Being knights, one would expect manners to be a basic idea.
"Sit still traveller, we don't have much. But I will see what I can do for you." With that he moved on back to the kitchen, while another knight called out.
"Just toss him out, maybe it will help air this place out."
The barkeep just kept his head down and poured some soup into a bowl. Setting it down beside a small piece of bread in front of the newcomer, he took a step back.
"It is on the house tonight, we have more than we know what to do with tonight it seems."
As he moved away, Fletcher grabbed his arm tightly.
"Well barkeep, since you seem to be giving away food and drink. Why not return our coin?" His smile turned icy. "What with you, having more than you know what to
do with and all."
Going white, he tried breaking free of the grip. It was like being held in a vice.
"It's...not like that."
"But it is, isn't it? After all, we are kings men. And that...thing? Nothing but wasted space."
Suddenly aware of how quiet it was in the room, the barkeep looked around. All eyes were on the exchange. Trying to tug away, he was startled when Fletcher just let go.
Sending him stumbling back and knocking the soup he had just set down all over the table.
"Tsk tsk..." Fletcher stood. "Look what you did tavern-master. Look what you did. Spilt that nice soup all over."
"It...it was an acciden-"
"Well save it Keep, save it."
"It's wasted...I'll just get some mor-" Fletchers arm was suddenly around his neck.
"I didn't ask for you to get some more. Serve him that." The tavern owner was steadily turning blue, unable to articulate anything. "Well? Loss for words? I understand."
He tightened his grip. "Maybe you just need a moment to think?"
"Let him go..." The voice was so quiet Fletcher barely noticed. Turning, he saw the traveller was now standing. Meeting his gaze, he laughed.
"Let him go? Let.Him.Go? I think not. So sit back down and learn your place, worm. You address a knight."
"Do knights go about this land taking what they want?" The man stood a bit taller, though his voice seemed distant and his eyes unfocused.
"We are entitled to it. Though I do not know why I bother explaining to a lowlife cur such as yourself."
"Lowlife? Lowlife am I?"
Fletcher let the barkeep go. Approaching the man, he knelt slightly to meet his gaze. "What's your name, beast?" He poked him hard in the chest. "Or do you not even
own that?"
As his finger pressed against his rib cage, several things happened. One, the man remembered with sudden clarity another land. One with knights as well. And that one had another knight that treated him with as much regard. Two, he -did- remember his name. And three, he was suddenly set upon by a massive headache.
He cried out, hands going to his head as incantations he had never known poured from his throat. The knights instantly lept up, but in their current state they all just fell back over. Fletcher just stood there, like an owl looking into the sun. Not quite knowing what was going on.
The magic condensed in the air, and then streaked into the knights, the barkeep, and the other patrons. The unknown mans cry was nothing compared to what followed.
All save the knights collapsed to the floor, their bodies aging and decomposing rapidly for a few moments before becoming still. The knights faced a much worse fate. The flesh melted from their bones, leaving just 6 skeletons standing in front of himself. Red from blood, they stood shakily before collapsing into dust as their souls seemed to float about the room.
The robed man faced them, his eyes glowing slightly from the magic.
"I bind you here, cursed knights. Forever bound to roam this place until the world ends and renews itself in the fires of war." And with that, he slowly walked from the building. As he left the hamlet, he failed to notice the effect his magic had on the cemetary of the church. The dead rose from their graves, and quietly followed him.
The group followed the road until they reached a fork in the road. He looked to the sign and smiled slightly. Choosing the direction the sign said was to a place called "Tilea", the group went on. He did not know these lands in the slightest. Or how he came to be here anyway. But as the darkness grew, his hand went to a pendant around his neck that was in the shape of an ankh made of the blackest stone. He knew he'd find his answers eventually.
The hamlet was quiet that eve. Except the pub of course, but in such areas as these... pubs were the only source of amusement or news.
A week or so away from the second closest village, and being located in the middle of a forest, this hamlet barely had anything going for it
at all. A church, blacksmith, several small homes and of course the pub.
The Griffon was a two story building, more ramshackle hut than anything else. Yet here, every night, the locals gathered and spent what coin
they had on cheap ale. This night, business was busier than normal. The owner expected to see the usual assortment, but what really drew
the rest in was the group of knights that had requested a place to stay until the blacksmith had repaired their battle damaged armor.
Settling in, the knights ordered and demanded the cleanest area away from the peasants. Several of them even going so far as to shove their
way past them. All 6 of them were obviously battle tested. The scars covering their faces and arms were evidence enough of that. With the
weather turning steadily worse, they continued drinking and eating long into the night. Each passing moment seeing them become louder and
more demanding than before.
"So Fletcher, how did that venture with the Empire lapdogs go?" One of the knights set down his tankard, grinning over at the largest of the group.
Turning his eyes to his fellow, the one called Fletcher let out a harsh laugh.
"As well as could be expected Vardon. But lucky for them, patience was with me that day." He took a large drink. "Or perhaps I did not wish to see
my blade tarnished with politicans blood such as theirs."
The rest broke into laughter, nodding in agreement with him. Setting his own drink down however, he went on.
"But, as for the meeting... Suffice it to say that our quest will continue on. Unhindered by their church."
Another of the knights leaned back, swallowing a bite of bread before speaking.
"Oh really Fletch? And how'd you manage a feat like that?"
Fletcher turned his head to him and smiled widely.
"Well, Seymour, it was like this. I merely sat down, and reasoned with them." He picked his drink up and tipped it towards Seymour. " As simple as that."
"I see..." Seymour shook his head. "You tossed the man you were meeting into the river didn't you."
"I said I reasoned with them did I not?"
Seymour sighed. "As I thought." There was a silence for several moments before they all broke out into laughter. "Could he swim?"
"He learned how to quickly."
They all started laughing once more when the door opened, letting the cold night air inside. Standing in the doorway was a man leaning heavily on a staff. Clad
in tattered robes, it became quickly evident that he was what the locals called... "A Wanderer". Their term for those without coin or home.
Fletcher laughed again. "Shut the door old man! You're letting the warmth out. So get in, or join what escaped out there!"
The man looked slowly up, his motions unfocused. He looked at the knight for a few seconds before shuffling to the nearest table. The table which happened to
be located next to that occupied by the knights.
Coming quickly over, the barkeep attempted to get an order. But the man remained silent. His mouth forming soundless words.
Fletcher turned slightly, snorting. Up close he could really notice the "wanderer". Hair the color of darkest night was filled with leaves and other products of the forest.
Rags were wrapped about his hands, and the boots were ready to fall apart.
"Perhaps you should get a job old man? Afford things better than what my old dog wouldn't even go near?" His fellows started laughing again while the barkeep frowned.
Being knights, one would expect manners to be a basic idea.
"Sit still traveller, we don't have much. But I will see what I can do for you." With that he moved on back to the kitchen, while another knight called out.
"Just toss him out, maybe it will help air this place out."
The barkeep just kept his head down and poured some soup into a bowl. Setting it down beside a small piece of bread in front of the newcomer, he took a step back.
"It is on the house tonight, we have more than we know what to do with tonight it seems."
As he moved away, Fletcher grabbed his arm tightly.
"Well barkeep, since you seem to be giving away food and drink. Why not return our coin?" His smile turned icy. "What with you, having more than you know what to
do with and all."
Going white, he tried breaking free of the grip. It was like being held in a vice.
"It's...not like that."
"But it is, isn't it? After all, we are kings men. And that...thing? Nothing but wasted space."
Suddenly aware of how quiet it was in the room, the barkeep looked around. All eyes were on the exchange. Trying to tug away, he was startled when Fletcher just let go.
Sending him stumbling back and knocking the soup he had just set down all over the table.
"Tsk tsk..." Fletcher stood. "Look what you did tavern-master. Look what you did. Spilt that nice soup all over."
"It...it was an acciden-"
"Well save it Keep, save it."
"It's wasted...I'll just get some mor-" Fletchers arm was suddenly around his neck.
"I didn't ask for you to get some more. Serve him that." The tavern owner was steadily turning blue, unable to articulate anything. "Well? Loss for words? I understand."
He tightened his grip. "Maybe you just need a moment to think?"
"Let him go..." The voice was so quiet Fletcher barely noticed. Turning, he saw the traveller was now standing. Meeting his gaze, he laughed.
"Let him go? Let.Him.Go? I think not. So sit back down and learn your place, worm. You address a knight."
"Do knights go about this land taking what they want?" The man stood a bit taller, though his voice seemed distant and his eyes unfocused.
"We are entitled to it. Though I do not know why I bother explaining to a lowlife cur such as yourself."
"Lowlife? Lowlife am I?"
Fletcher let the barkeep go. Approaching the man, he knelt slightly to meet his gaze. "What's your name, beast?" He poked him hard in the chest. "Or do you not even
own that?"
As his finger pressed against his rib cage, several things happened. One, the man remembered with sudden clarity another land. One with knights as well. And that one had another knight that treated him with as much regard. Two, he -did- remember his name. And three, he was suddenly set upon by a massive headache.
He cried out, hands going to his head as incantations he had never known poured from his throat. The knights instantly lept up, but in their current state they all just fell back over. Fletcher just stood there, like an owl looking into the sun. Not quite knowing what was going on.
The magic condensed in the air, and then streaked into the knights, the barkeep, and the other patrons. The unknown mans cry was nothing compared to what followed.
All save the knights collapsed to the floor, their bodies aging and decomposing rapidly for a few moments before becoming still. The knights faced a much worse fate. The flesh melted from their bones, leaving just 6 skeletons standing in front of himself. Red from blood, they stood shakily before collapsing into dust as their souls seemed to float about the room.
The robed man faced them, his eyes glowing slightly from the magic.
"I bind you here, cursed knights. Forever bound to roam this place until the world ends and renews itself in the fires of war." And with that, he slowly walked from the building. As he left the hamlet, he failed to notice the effect his magic had on the cemetary of the church. The dead rose from their graves, and quietly followed him.
The group followed the road until they reached a fork in the road. He looked to the sign and smiled slightly. Choosing the direction the sign said was to a place called "Tilea", the group went on. He did not know these lands in the slightest. Or how he came to be here anyway. But as the darkness grew, his hand went to a pendant around his neck that was in the shape of an ankh made of the blackest stone. He knew he'd find his answers eventually.