Fire and the Thud

{Flashback} {25 Spring, 505 AV}

(This is a thread from Mizahar's fantasy role playing forum. Why don't you register today? This message is not shown when you are logged in. Come roleplay with us, it's fun!)

While Sylira is by far the most civilized region of Mizahar, countless surprises and encounters await the traveler in its rural wilderness. Called the Wildlands, Syliran's wilderness is comprised of gradual rolling hills in the south that become deep wilderness in the north. Ruins abound throughout the wildlands, and only the well-marked roads are safe.

Fire and the Thud

Postby Thalrick on March 8th, 2015, 4:58 am

''Well, lad, this is our humble abode.'' Badger laughed, waving a hand at the barn. It was huge and spacious, made of oak wood with a slate roof. Time and weather had made it look worse for wear, but the sheer size of it was enough to be compared to some sort of grand cathedral. The barn made the three small houses (and inn) that surrounded it look like children, towering over them under the warm orange glow of the setting sun. It had taken a days travel from the forest to reach the abandoned town; and they had left only after Badger, Renly, Strom, Peter and Toothless Bill had scavenged a wagon full of swords, leathers, steel armour pieces and saddles from the ambush they'd done the month before. Badger told him it was all for Garrion, the leader of The Sovereign Company, who needed everything they could find. And they had found a lot. Thalrick had spent the day-long journey slumped in the wagon amidst their loot, getting smacked in the face by steel gauntlets on more than one occasion as the wagon hit a rock or the root of a tree. The black eye only lasted a few hours, surprisingly, but it throbbed constantly even afterward.

When the wagon and horses had finally made their way through the forest, out over some crop fields and into the town, Thalrick couldn't have been happier. The journey was done, and he would finally be able to stand up without the fear of being kneecapped by some knight's helm or gauntlet. He climbed out excitedly and allowed himself to be lead toward the barn, walking closely to the heels of Badger. He had only spoke to the man as well as Renly, for Strom, Peter, and Toothless Bill were sceptical about the young boy. They saw him as some sort of assassin, sent to put an end to the company by slaying Garrion. At least that's what they had said to Renly when the journey had begun. Renly and Badger were kind enough, seeing Thalrick only as the freed slave that he truly was.

''Garrion will be inside, I'd wager. He's always in there, sharpening his sword or forging new ones. Don't think he's been outside since his sister got killed by knights, ran down and trampled before his eyes. Best not be saying anything about that, though. He's a bit . . . fragile, of late.'' Badger gave Thalrick a pat on the head and helped Strom heave the door open. Inside, the barn was as spacious as he had imagined. Though from the inside, it was no barn. Training dummies made of straw and cloth had been erected by one wall, and two men stood a few yards away, firing arrows and flinging stones from sling shots. Another few men in boiled leathers sparred with wooden swords, and a crude blacksmith's forge had been erected in the north-eastern corner, though it was unattended, aside the plumes of smoke that rose up from the stone, snaking their way toward the roof. A balcony encompassed half the space of the floor, reachable only by a ladder by the men sparring. The balcony, from what he could see, was where all the men slept, on bedrolls and mattresses alike. Crude wooden racks held long swords and recurve bows in place, and barrels held arrows, spears, and other manners of weapons (maces, hammers). The floor inside was a mix of both dirt and hay, though the balcony floor was made of wood. It seemed more like a training camp than a barn.

''There he is,'' Badger said in a whisper, looking over by the men sparring. Upon a wooden chair a man sat, with a steel bastard sword rested across his lap. He used one hand to hold it still, and the other hand to slide a whetstone across its tip. Sparks flew every so often, but the man remained expressionless and stern-faced, eyes concentrated on his bastard sword. As they approached, Garrion did not look up from his work, but knew it was Badger all the same. ''Badger, you return. I trust you did as asked of you?'' His voice was croaky, his tone dry. Before Badger spoke he fell to one knee and bowed his head. ''It is, your lordship. Steel, leathers, saddles for the horses, and a few weapons for the men. The wagon is outside, I hope it suffices.'' Garrion laughed a laugh that nearly could have been mistaken for a groan or a cough. He did not look any older than fourty, with a mess of short, curly brown hair, a scarred pale face, green eyes, a crooked nose and a beard that looked half a season grown. He was covered in boiled leathers like most of his men, with a thick red cloak slung over his back. Garrion looked like a tall, lean man, but Thalrick could not tell in his slouched posture. ''Get up, Badger, there are no lords here, only free men,' he began, smiling as Badger stood, ''so you rummaged enough up from that old site? Good, I knew you would. We have more use for the shyke than they do, all dead and cold. Besides, I hear they've sent a scout to find us. We'll have a use for that armour sooner, rather than later.'' The leader of the company stabbed the tip of his sword deep enough so it held upright, then stood up. He was taller than Badger, though not as wide.

Badger raised a curious brow. ''What do you intend?'' He asked plainly. Garrion patted him on the shoulder and they began to walk toward the barn entrance. Thalrick followed behind, for he did not know what else there was to do. ''We send a man in their armour, to find this damned scout. He tells him that he's found where we're hid, and he takes him toward us. We ambush the scout, and we take him hostage. Then, we cut off every one of his fingers and toes til we find out everything we need to know.'' Garrion laughed another throaty laugh at the idea, and Badger nodded. He did not seem like the type to go against his leader, and so whether or not he found the idea a good one was folly; he would agree all the same. By the time they were done talking the three had walked outside, and then that was the first time Garrion had noticed the boy of thirteen standing behind Badger.

''Who's this little man you bring along, Badger?''
User avatar
Thalrick
Plagued by proverb
 
Posts: 51
Words: 118406
Joined roleplay: February 26th, 2015, 4:00 am
Race: Human
Character sheet

Fire and the Thud

Postby Thalrick on March 8th, 2015, 8:18 am

''Thalrick Levelle, is my name, your lordship.'' Thalrick said, falling to one knee. He did not know what possessed him to do it. Garrion chuckled a hoarse chuckle, as if the boy was playing some kind of joke.

''Get up, Thalrick. I am no lordship – you've heard that much already. We're free men here.'' He turned to Badger, scratching at his moustache. ''How did young Thalrick come into you, Badger? Surely you've not taken a boy as hostage.'' They were by the wagon now, and Garrion had been inspecting their new wares, rummaging through steel and leathers with a blank expression.


Badger seemed almost offended by his leaders slight, judging by the small gasp he gave beneath his breath. ''A slave, he was. His master spooked us in the darkness and we mistook him for a knight, so Renly put an arrow in him. Then Strom found Thalrick and his friend hiding close by. The lad told us he was a slave, and so we put that master of his to trial. . .'' Badger paused for a moment, as memories came to mind, ''well, the other slave died for their freedom, killed his master but his master killed him. Trial by combat, you see. We buried the boy and the fat man, albeit we shouldn't of – slavers have no place in a free world. Thalrick wished to join us, and here we are.'' Badger gave Thalrick a scruff through his hair, the man's callused hand finding dreadlocks and pulling them out.

Garrion did not look back as he spoke, and merely kept shifting around the items they'd hoarded. ''A sad tale. But this company has no need for boys. We do not take squires. We have a duty, Badger, to protect the land. We are the shields that guard these lands from worse men, and from men that would enslave us. Knights, Badger, knights. A boy would be skewered by a man in full armour with a blade; and a slave, freed or not, does not know how to swing a sword or notch a bow. Boys are useless. I want him left here by the first stroke of morn.'' He did not even shoot a glance at the pair as he spoke, eyes too fixated upon the armour he had found. Badger clenched a fist, though Thalrick knew he would not swing it. He was too loyal.

''Let him prove himself, then,'' Badger began, striding forward so his hand rested on Garrion's shoulder, ''Let him prove his worth, so he may stay. The boy has nowhere else, his life has been cruel enough, let him prove his worth. I beg you, brother.'' He spoke like a desperate man, and for a moment Thalrick nearly saw a father in him; a father far less cruel than his own. He thought of Jon, and how unkind he had been treated, smiling at the thought of his demise. Garrion grunted, and for a moment Thalrick thought he would be turned away. Instead, the man sighed and said, ''Very well. He will prove himself. But if the boy gets himself killed, his blood is in your hands, Badger. I have enough on mine. See me in the morn, by then I will have found him a suitable.. task.'' Garrion waved a dismissive hand, and Badger kissed it and muttered thanks.

''Come, lad,'' Badger said, placing a hand on Thalrick's back to move him along, ''we best let him be, now. I've pushed my luck enough today. I'm sure your starved, and so we shall eat.'' The two began a hurried walk back toward the barn, when Thalrick asked, ''Why'd you do that – why did you ask for me to stay? What if he didn't like that? He did not seem fond of the idea to begin with – why'd you do it?'' His voice was a muddled mess of stuttering and confusion. He was a stranger to kindness, after all. Badger patted his back and smiled.

''I had a son, once. Small lad, looked a lot like you. Same hair, face, eyes even. My wife and I tried our best to raise him well, you know, fill his ears with tales of valiant knights and his mouth with plenty of food. Garrion was our neighbour, the town blacksmith, and our dearest friend. When my son got a fever, Garrion rode leagues to Syliras, to find an apothecary or someone who could help the poor boy. He return empty-handed, and told us that the knights at the gate of the city had turned him away. That was the coal that would soon start the fiery hatred he bares for Syliras and its knights. My son died of that fever, at only nine years old, mind you. But it wasn't until they ran his sister Shaya down that the fires began to burn. She was a sweet girl, all copper hair and starry eyed, but that beauty didn't stop their chargers from digging hooves into her spine as they ran over top of her. I remember the poor girls face, and then the look on Garrion's. . .'' he trailed off for a second, but then kept on with his story, ''We don't know why those knights ran her down; only that Garrion has rounded up followers to bring them to the sword ever since. He wants strong, able men, yes, but he too needs someone younger and vulnerable, someone to remind him we're all only human. I think he forgets that sometimes. I've seen him try to fight four armoured men at once, with a gash in his shoulder as wide as a stream. If he isn't reminded of his humanity, of his mortality, then he's going to get himself killed. That. . . and you remind me of Alegar, my son.'' He messed at Thalrick's hair again and smiled sadly.

The poor man. . . to lose a son, and so young, Thalrick thought, as they took a left past the barn and toward the other buildings in the abandoned town. That night he dined on cooked rabbit, onion, smoked mackerel, and a handful of pine nuts that Renly had brought to the inn. The fire was warm against his skin, and there were times when he nearly wanted to jump into it, to keep away from the growing cold that the night brought. When the nuts and the fish and the rabbit were all gone, and the embers of the fire had died away, Thalrick took to a feather-stuffed mattress on the floor, between Renly and Badger. The rest of the company had not been present, for Badger decided Thalrick would fall beneath his care, as many others thought him some sort of spy or assassin.

Could this be home? He remembered thinking, right before he drifted off into a dream, a dream where he could remember his mothers face.
User avatar
Thalrick
Plagued by proverb
 
Posts: 51
Words: 118406
Joined roleplay: February 26th, 2015, 4:00 am
Race: Human
Character sheet

Fire and the Thud

Postby Thalrick on March 8th, 2015, 10:30 am

As the sun rose, so did the inn door get beaten at so heavily that Thalrick thought it was a raid. He reached for the knife he'd taken from Armin, only to have it knocked away by Renly before he could do anything stupid. When he asked why, Renly had explained, ''Easy boy, it's just Big Axe, of The Broken Spear. He's as loyal as a hound, and a hundred times stronger. Doesn't know his own strength, that one. A Myrian too, thankfully not as savage as the rest of his kind. Garrion thinks he's the best suited to waking everybody.'' He laughed at that, then clothed and washed his face from a bucket full of cold water. Thalrick was awestruck as Big Axe entered the tavern, huge and broad, the size of two men abreast. He wore no boiled leathers on his chest, leaving his scarred physique in plain sight, all torn and tanned from both battles and the sun. His face was square and stern, as green eyes peered out from beneath thick black caterpillars that were his brows. A small steel ring hung from his right nostril, and two gold ones from the left. His hair was bald around the sides, though a single thick black braid came cascading down his back from the very top of his head. He had a single tattoo across his shoulder.

Big Axe gave Thalrick an odd look, one that seemed ripe with both confusion and disgust. He looked as if he had never seen a boy before. Ignoring the stranger, Big Axe said, ''Garrion wants you. All of you. Come to barn after you break your fast.'' Then his huge frame squeezed through the seemingly-narrow door and walked back off toward the barn. Even after he'd left, Thalrick sat still in utter awe. ''What was he?'' He finally asked, biting at the burnt bacon that Badger had cooked for him. Renly laughed. ''A Myrian, lad. You probably haven't heard of them, or Taloba, their home. They're savages, mainly. Cannibals too,'' he paused to chew his own bacon, then continued between chews, ''Garrion and a few of the others found him in the back of a slavers cart. Tyveth only knows how they got him in there, big bastard he is. It's said that his clan, The Broken Spear, found him weak-willed, he couldn't eat men he had killed, or their children. And so they beat him bloody and sold him into slavery. When Garrion freed him, Big Axe swore to protect him until Myri took him for herself. That's their god, you see, all about war and battle and victory. While I find it out of character for a Myrian to help a human without maiming and eating him, I won't complain. He does us wonders on the battlefield, and his poor ability to speak the common tongue often raises a good laugh.'' Renly had moved onto the last bit of his bacon by then, and began tossing nuts down his throat.

While the history of the huge man had been explained, there was still a question on Thalrick's mind. ''Why is his name Big Axe?'' He asked, invoking a laugh from both of his companions. Badger spoke up then, as he had been too busy mixing his eggs with his bacon to previously talk. ''He told us all that his birth name would be too hard to say, and he carries around a big bloody axe. So, Big Axe seemed fitting. He seems to like it, lad, makes him feel welcomed, with a nickname and all.'' He laughed, gulping down the last of his fast. Thalrick finished his own bacon, yet Renly continued on with the nuts, which he kept in a small cloth sack he had found. ''Best not keep Garrion waiting then, aye lads?'' He said cheerfully, standing up and stretching. They collected their things and made their way to the barn, where the rest of the company had been waiting. A rectangular wooden table had been dragged out into the centre of the training area, with a huge woven sheet across it. When they got close, Thalrick realised it as what it was. A map of the wildlands, every river and stream, every forest and field. It was all there.

''About time, Badger, Renly.'' Garrion said drily as they took spots around the table. Many of the company gave Thalrick curious looks. There was a blonde man with a patch over one eye, a short woman with two daggers crossed over her back, a tall man with a thick moustache and a lazy eye, and a bald man with grey stubble, who looked nearly too old to walk. Thalrick nodded at each of them, but none gave him one in return. He felt out of place, as much a stranger as he ever had.

Big Axe stood beside his leader, one hand rested on the hilt of the bearded axe at his hip. That axe isn't so big. . . He thought when he saw it. Strom and the rest also stood around the table, but their eyes were too fixated on the map to care about Badger or Renly's arrival, let alone Thalrick.

''As you all know,'' Garrion began, waving a hand around at his loyal subjects, ''the knights of Syliras have had us hard pressed this past season. They've taken Crow, and Stoneworth, too. They were both good men, strong men, and now they are either dead or dying. I remember Crow as a boy, headstrong and determined. Now he's likely hanging from a tree, or bleeding out at the wrists.'' He paused long enough for the one eyed man to ask, ''What do you propose, then?'' to which he replied, ''We recapture those men, if they live. And if they are dead, then we take them back so we may bury them, as they deserve.''

He slammed a fist on a point of the map, one between a forest, a field and a river. ''There is a stone watchtower. Lone as it is, it's atop a hill, making it easily defensible. Some call it Lonetower, but I call it a bastard. Lolly tells me that is where they hold Crow and Stoneworth.'' He looked to the dagger-wielding woman, who nodded her head, making her waves of blonde hair flop about. She was beautiful in her own sense, with blue eyes and thin lips, but her cheeks were riddled with faded pink scars, her forehead sporting a burn mark from seasons ago. ''Aye, I followed the knights after the battle at The Bone Fields, when they were taken. To Lonetower they went, and there they will stay. No doubt they torture our brothers for our whereabouts.'' The woman said, her voice as silvery as her face. Garrion heaved a loud sigh.

''And neither shall give them up. Not yet, at the least. The battle was fought what, seven nights ago? Mayhap less?'' Garrion looked around the table.

''Five, if my memory serves.'' The man with the moustache said, brandishing the bandages that wrapped around his forearm. He had been sliced by a spear at the battle, but took the head of the squire that had done it. Garrion nodded.

''Five, then. It'll take at the least five more, before either of our men give them anything. I plan to free them before that day.''

Big Axe beat his chest like a gorilla, as if the battle was about to commence there and then. He stopped when his leader spoke again.

''If news of this scout are true, and I have no reason to believe they aren't. . .'' He glanced at Thalrick, then Badger, and then Renly, before his eyes fixed back on the map that was rolled out across the table, ''then we need to do something about him, and fast. He needs to find us on our terms, not by chance.'' The woman named Lolly made an odd noise that suggested confusion.

''What do you mean, our terms, Garrion? Surely you don't mean to lead him to us?'' She spoke as if he'd just proposed them all to kill each other. Garrion shook his head.

''Aye, not lead him to us freely, Lolly. Bring him to our humble ol' town as a captive. He will give us the answers we want, or he will lose his toes and fingers and then his nose and his tongue and his eyes. When he's given us what we want, we will trade him to the petching knights for our men. A fair trade, I do say.'' Garrion spoke so sternly that nobody spoke against it, though the look on Badger's face suggested he did have questions. If he did, he did not ask them.

''Badger,'' he said, and the man snapped to attention, ''you wish to prove the worth of this boy? Then you shall be the ones to locate and capture this scout, Renly too. There's enough armour in that wagon to cover all three of you, though the boy might be ill-fitted,'' he paused and stroked his beard, thinking of a way to use Thalrick in the plan. Badger swallowed air.

''You say you were a former slave, Thalrick? Perhaps you would be best suited to acting as one, a last time.'' He took a step over to Thalrick, and lifted his chin so he could peer into his eyes. It was only then that Thalrick noticed the scars that lined his face, some old and faded, others new and vibrant. Thick black bags hung beneath each of his eyes; a man who got little sleep at night, a man who never dreamed at all. To Garrion, there was only reality, and the life that he lived. ''Badger, you and Renly will pose as knights, find the scout, and tell him you've captured one of us. When you show him Thalrick, bound and dirty, he will believe you. Lead them back here to us, so I may scout how many fingers and toes it'll take him to give us answers. Leave when the night falls.''

Badger nodded and bowed, and the meeting was adjourned. Once a captive, always a captive. . . Thalrick thought almost aloud, as he allowed Renly to rope his wrists together.
User avatar
Thalrick
Plagued by proverb
 
Posts: 51
Words: 118406
Joined roleplay: February 26th, 2015, 4:00 am
Race: Human
Character sheet

Fire and the Thud

Postby Thalrick on March 8th, 2015, 12:14 pm

He spent the next day mounted behind Renly on his horse, as he was thinner than Badger, and so it would be easier for his horse to carry the weight of two. They left the barn before nightfall, so they could get a good start before it went dark, and find a suitable place to make camp. That night they made camp beneath a small outcrop of trees, to hide from the light drizzle of rain the clouds brought. They had supper on more charred bacon, and a hare that Renly had shot through the middle with his bow. It was chewy, but it filled them up well enough. Sleep came quickly that night, though Thalrick did not dream. He woke to the sounds of footsteps upon leaves, only to find it was Renly feeding the horse and packing up their provisions.

''Quick Thalrick, up we get!'' He said happily. He seemed cheerful no matter what time of day it was. Badger woke up last, but was quick enough to slip back into his armour and mount up on his courser. The clouds loomed overhead like a dark grey tidal wave in the sky, promising rain and even lightning. It had been a light sheet of water that morning, but by midday the rain fell harder and faster. Only Thalrick felt it sting his skin, as the other two were coated in protective layers of steel; gauntlets, cuirass, greaves, boots and barbutes all. It made the usually slender Renly seem much broader and fearsome than he actually was, but it made using his bow cumbersome. A steel blade hung from a sheathe at his hip, though he promised them it would go unused. ''Swords are too easy, all swing and no skill. I'd sooner lodge a man's skull with an arrow at close range than use this piece of shyke,'' he had said when they set out.

As they cantered down a small slope to cross a shallow brook, Thalrick posed them the question, ''Do we know where this scout is?'' His hands were bound behind his back, so it made it difficult for him to keep balance, using his legs to grip the courser for dear life whenever it went faster than a trot. He tried to lean away from Renly, as any sudden movement would force him to head-butt the back of his steel cuirass. It was not an easy task.

''Lolly told us well enough. Follow the game trails west, until we see Everstone Forest, then head south away from it. That's where she spotted him, so that's where we will start our little hunt.'' Renly explained, his voice heavily reverberated and muffled inside his helm.

''He won't be hard to find by night, that I'd wager all my mizas on. Scouts may be fast moving, but they're often too stupid to realise how bright a fire shines in the wildlands. If we search for him by night, then we're sure to find him sooner. . .'' They crossed the brook at a trot and headed up the other side of the slope, across a field, through a small patch of bog, and then up and around some hills. Finally, the stalagmites of Everstone Forest became apparent a few leagues west. The last time Thalrick had seen them, he'd been up to his knees in snow, and whipped to press on by the shyke smelling fat man that rode a horse behind him.Jon, you bastard, Thalrick muttered beneath his breath as the memories came to him. But Jon was dead now, and Thalrick very much alive. It was all too clear who was the victor there.

''There they are,'' Badger pointed, wheeling his horse around to face south, ''not long, and we should find this petch. Lad, are your hands alright? Tyveth only knows how uncomfortable you must be.'' He looked over at Thalrick, though his features were indistinguishable beneath his helm. Thalrick nodded and said, ''Nothing I'm not used to, I will be fine. Jon had me bound in irons for years and years, what's another day or two?''

Renly laughed, but Badger sighed. ''A day or two too much, I fear. Come, let's make haste, all the better for ourselves and for those wrists of yours. We can't let Garrion down, not now.'' He tugged at his reins and his horse broke into a gallop, and Renly followed suit. He found it hard to stay upright, but somehow managed, the sounds of shaking steel ringing loudly in his ears with every bound. Before the sun set that day they passed by a farmer herding his cows along the road, and a few stray dogs playfully wrestling one another outside a lone farmhouse. The farmer had given the men an odd look as they passed, but did not say anything more than a brief 'hello'. Later they passed a woman and her son carting wheat and apples up the road toward the farmhouse, and had been so kind as to give the faux knights one each, acting oblivious to the constricted boy that sat behind one of them. That had made Badger quite upset as they continued on.

''See how these knights are treated? So kindly, so just. And yet, she took no note of our prisoner here, as if he had drunk an invisibility potion and petched off somewhere. They could murder a son for not a reason at all, and it's likely that the mother and father would thank them for their deed. It's wrong, I say, wrong.'' He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth, but there was nothing for him to unleash his fury upon, and so he let it fade away as they kept riding. That night they camped not far off the road, in a field that had once been blanketed with crops, likely wheat. The fire they made was small, for they knew of the consequences of a large one in an open field. Renly took first watch after they had eaten, and then Badger the second when he grew tired. Thalrick was too young to take watch, they had said, and he needed sleep more than any of them. His ride had been less hot than theirs (due to their armour) but far more uncomfortable.

They broke their fast on slices of apple that the woman had given them, as well as some of the nuts Renly had brought along. ''Damn this armour, it's cumbersome and it's unreasonable. What sane man would want to wear this all day? It creates its own weather, hot, hot, hot. I sweat even when the rains are cold.'' Renly complained over a slice of apple from his knife. Thalrick felt glad he was not given any armour; it would not of fit him anyway.

''It's a burden we have to bare, my friend. We take this off, and that scout will charge off at the first sight of us.'' Badger said solemnly. Renly nodded reluctantly, then looked up at the gloomy sky like it had just spoke to him an answer.

''What if I were to put an arrow in his back, or his horse? Then he would not charge off very far, I assure you.'' He suggested, though uncertainly. He already knew his comrades answer.

''No,'' Badger said bluntly, feeding the rest of his apple to his horse, ''that is not our orders, Renly. And what are soldiers who don't carry out their orders? Besides, if you put an arrow in either him or his horse, he's most likely to become gravely injured before we even return to Garrion and the others.'' Badger began strapping on his cuirass, albeit slowly. Renly sighed and ran a bare hand through his wavy black hair. His peach fuzz had been shaved with a knife before they had left, but was starting to grow back already, this time just as peachy.

''We're not soldiers, we're free men, remember that. . .'' Renly japed, then began fastening his own armour back on with some help from Thalrick, who tightened straps with his bound hands. When they were done they stomped out the last embers of the fire, mounted up, and continued the ride south. The next day brought no rain, only a humid temperature and an overcast sky. Renly and Badger shared complaints about how their armour was boiling them alive, whilst Thalrick often jested that his wrists chafed. The wind licked at his hair as they rode, flicking it about and forming more dreadlocks than it already had. His face had grown dark from the sun, and the wind had made his lips cracked and sore.

They followed the road until midday, where they came upon a forest just east of it. Renly had sworn he had seen something move inside, but was unsure whether it was man or beast. ''See that?'' he asked, but both others said they had not. ''Your eyes are petched then,'' he japed, but rode on toward the forest anyway. Badger had no other choice but to follow his lead.

Surprisingly enough, Renly's eyes had found them their scout. Inside a forest clearing, a man had been packing up camp, shoving his provisions into a rucksack tied to his destrier. He wore an iron sallet over his head and cured leathers and ring mail over his chest and legs. Draped over his back was a thick black cloak, with the Windoak sewn into it – the symbol of the Syliran Knights, and all the proof that Badger needed to believe this man was the scout they had been searching for. They approached from behind, so the man had not seen them at first, allowing Renly and Badger enough time to whisper the plan from across their horses. They too bore the cloaks of the order, only their armour was tempered steel, and so the man would take them for knights. I hope he's not smart enough to catch on, I didn't wear these damn ropes for nothing. . .

''Greetings, friend.'' Renly said in a voice that was not his own, trying to sound older and more boisterous. The scout was startled, and spun around with a dagger drawn. When he noticed the two armoured and mounted men, the dagger slid back into his belt.

''Who- who are you?'' He asked, stuttering. It appeared as though he was not expecting any company. Which he hadn't been, until Garrion said the orders a few days before.

''Knights of the order. We're friend, not foe. The Grandmaster sent us to find you, after we found something that might aid your own quest.'' Renly lied, still trying his best to be someone beside himself. Thalrick had to try hard not to laugh, it seemed all too unbelievable. Still, the man did not know it.

''What is it then? And your names? It's rude to greet a man, without a name. I am Wallace, Wallace Dryden.'' The scout said, never stopping the packing of his camp. Renly did not answer for a moment, as he created a name for his new rambunctious character.

''I am Harp Steelgreaves,'' he waved a hand at Badger, ''and this is my comrade and squire, Tyveth Clearwater. Named after the god himself.'' Thalrick could see the anger building in Badger, unhappy with now being 'Harps' squire. Still, he only bowed his head and greeted Wallace. The scout took off his sallet, to reveal short cut grey-brown hair and an aging face, coated in spots and scars alike. A thick grey beard grew around his jawline, four times the amount of hair that had been on his head. He bowed low, though gave Badger a curious look.

''Tyveth is armoured, and large, for a squire.'' He said plainly. Renly did not even hestitate for a moment in his reply. ''He joined the order late in his life, you see. And the armour well. . There are brigands aplenty in these lands, friend, I don't want him stuck with arrows. He's no good to me that way.'' It was a clever response, as the scout shoved his sallet back over his head and nodded in understanding.

''Aye, many men don't realise the benefits and truths of the order until it's too late. I myself have served since twenty summers old, now I'm double that and more. Har! I'm old, for a scout, I'll grant you that. But my eye is keen, and Racer here is fast,'' he patted his horses flank, ''they've never had a better man for the job. Hunting brigands is one thing, but a group of outlaws? That's something you need to be trained for.''

Hunting outlaws, well old man, you've found them. . . They're right before your eyes. . .

''Aye, I wouldn't argue against it. That's why we've been looking for you, Wallace. We have someone here that could help your scouting.'' Renly grabbed Thalrick gently with one hand and pulled him from the horse, so that he toppled to the leafy ground below helplessly. It was uncomfortable, but didn't hurt too much. Wallace raised an eyebrow.
''Who's that, then?'' The old scout asked drily.

''A Sovereign Company wretch, well and truly. We caught the boy trying to steal our provisions while we slept. He gave us answers quick enough, when we caught him.'' Badger said, trying to make himself sound less like an awkward, shy squire of a loud and outgoing knight. He used his normal voice, Thalrick noticed, so it was easier holding back a laugh. The old man pulled the dagger back from his belt, and began a fast walk toward the bound boy.

''I'll cut off every one of his fingers! That'll make him give up their bloody whereabouts. I've been on the hunt long enough, and so far nothing! Thankyou Harp, this will truly save me some time. Har!'' He was nearly at Thalrick when Renly steered his horse in between scout and captive. The old man seemed almost offended.

''There'll be no need. He's our captive – but he can help you. He has told us where they make camp for the season, and so we can help lead you there under the little wretch's directions. There will be no need for the severing of fingers, Wallace. Come, mount your horse so we may find their hideaway together.'' He said loudly, almost threateningly. The old man huffed and tucked his dagger away a second time, then jogged over to his horse. Thalrick was surprised he had trusted them so quickly. But then again, they were dressed as knights of his order, cloak and all, so he had no reason not to.

He came back to them at a trot, giving Thalrick a cold, threatening stare. Even through age, the man was intimidating. His dark grey eyes nearly stared straight through him, clawing at his heart without ever touching his skin.

''Let's be off, then. Wallace Dryden wastes no time, least that's what I tell my superiors. Har!''

Harp Steelgreaves tugged Thalrick back onto his mount, nodded at Tyveth Clearwater, and broke into a gallop back the way they had came. The scout never took his eyes off Thalrick as he rode behind them, stare ripe with killing intent. Thalrick noticed it, but never acted like he had.

You'll be the one with less fingers by the time this is over, old petch. . .
User avatar
Thalrick
Plagued by proverb
 
Posts: 51
Words: 118406
Joined roleplay: February 26th, 2015, 4:00 am
Race: Human
Character sheet

Fire and the Thud

Postby Thalrick on March 9th, 2015, 1:55 am

The ride back was far less bothersome than the ride there had been. Well, aside from the old knight staring at Thalrick like a lion stalking its prey. His eyes never peeled away from the boy, as if he was waiting for him to try and make an escape attempt. You should be the one ready to escape, old petch. . . They only camped one night, under an outcrop of pine trees where pale lances of moonlight stabbed through the canopy, providing enough light for them to make a fire and eat supper under. The old man ate his own salted fish with butter and cheese, and insisted they all try some. He gave none to Thalrick. The only thing he ever gave him were threats, curses and perpetual stares. That night Renly and Badger, now known as Harp and Tyveth, kept watch over the bound boy to make sure the old man didn't try and cut his throat as he slept.

Thankfully he didn't, and the next morning (the day of the planned capture) saw a canopy of thick dark grey clouds, on the verge of black, inhabit the skies above. The clouds promised rain and thunder, as the old man kept reminding them all. ''Rain is coming, lightning too. I've seen a bloomin' tree get set on fire right by me, lightning flashed as bright as anything! Har! We best be finding this hideaway of yours today, wretch.'' He had said as it began to fall lightly. Thalrick hated being called a wretch. He hated it nearly as much as he hated Jon whipping him and threatening to fuck him bloody. The sooner this old man was bound and interrogated, the better.

''How long, boy?'' Harp Steelgreaves asked him, as though he knew. Thalrick feigned an answer and told him half a day, and judging by Harp's silence, it was a close guess. The old man kicked at his destriers flanks so it caught up to Renly and Badger, who rode side by side. His horse was bigger than theirs, and it could run faster, but he always lingered behind so his eyes could burn the back of Thalrick's head. He was short and old but he was still dangerous, Thalrick knew. The rain soon began to fall heavier, and heavier, and heavier, until anything more than thirty feet away became a grey apparition, blurred and hazed by the downpour.

Still, Harp Steelgreaves and his squire knew the way, and so not even the rain could slow them down. As the rains poured, the old scout had to shout to be heard above them. ''How much longer is the way? These petchin' rains are tiresome! Har! Mayhap I should be using that boy as my shelter! Har!'' He looked to Thalrick, who had not heard him. Renly looked at the man through his visor, still relatively dry courtesy of the thick steel carapace that covered him. ''He told us no more than the rest of the day. . . By nightfall, I assume.'' Renly had to bite back his annoyance with the man, who was too quickly climbing up his nerves.

The ambush point was nothing fancy, but it was tactical, and well accounted for by Garrion. The game trail they were following (albeit Wallace did not know, believing they were following the instructions Thalrick gave them) would snake off into a forest of beech trees, where it continued along with a steep slope to one side, and knolls to the other. They would lead the scout through this forest, and Garrion and Big Axe would ambush him from the knolls. He would either have to descend the slope that would likely unsaddle him, continue along the road, or climb the knolls, which would tire his horse. Any way he went, the old man would be caught by Garrion. The rains were bound to make the ambush harder, they all knew. But that did not mean they intended to abandon it.

''The forest is ahead,'' Thalrick said, as he had been told to, ''it's inside the forest, three houses used as a hideout,'' he lied, yelling to be heard above the rain. The old man cackled. ''Best not be lying to us, boy! Or I'll chop that tongue out, so you won't be making lies no more! Har!'' Renly and Badger were forced to laugh along with the old petch, who had pulled the hood of his cloak up to shadow his face and helm. Maybe Garrion will chop out yours, so we're all spared listening to that wretched cackle. . .

As they trotted up to the mouth of the forest, the old man looked wary. He urged his horse back and forth, looking up at the towering grey apparitions before him. ''You certain this is the way, boy? Don't lie to us, I've warned you.'' He said, tone almost giving away his uncertainties. Renly reassured him with Harp's hearty laugh. ''Aye, I doubt the boy wants his tongue out, he seems to want to keep that life of his. We'll trust his word. Come!'' He dug his heels into his chargers flanks and burst forward, and he and Thalrick quickly became grey shadows amongst the pouring rain. Badger followed, and then Wallace. The beech trees inside were tall and old, with branches so high and leafy that they stemmed a lot of the rain from getting through them. The water still fell, but not near as heavy as it did in the open. Thalrick smiled to himself as his ears felt reprieve, no longer burdened by the constant sound of the downpour. The old man seemed more,eccentric about it.

''Syna has blessed us! I can bloody well see again, har! How far now, wretch?''

Don't call me a wretch again, or I'll be the one doing the damned torturing, Thalrick wanted to say, but instead sneezed and said, ''Not long, not long at all.''

The old man didn't seem appeased. ''How bloody long, wretch?'' He said, louder and harsher this time.

''Night nearly falls, so I trust his word, Wallace.'' Badger said from beside the scout. Wallace conjured yellow phlegm from his throat and spat it at the ground. ''Petch his word, the boys probably leading us into a trap.''

He is smarter than he seems, then . . .

''No trap. Through this wood and we'll find them, I swear it.'' Thalrick said bluntly. The old man flicked his reins so his horse caught up to Renly's, and he kept at a speed that put him next to Thalrick. ''Should I have your fingers off now, then? I know a lie when I hear one, boy, for I've heard more lies than you've heard words.'' He used his left hand to unsheathe his dagger, and stabbed it at the air. ''I'll poke a hole in you, see if you lie then, har!''

Hurry up, Garrion, where are you? I'll kill him myself if you don't find us soon. . .

''There'll be no holes poked, Wallace, the boy is our captive. We're helping you on our own accord, so best not poke any holes in him or he won't help no more.'' Renly warned. The old man sniggered, tucking his dagger away again. The next hour was spent in silence, an hour spent waiting for Garrion to appear and secure the scout. He was supposed to appear on the hillock to their left, but he had not yet shown. The mud made it hard for the horses to travel any faster than a trot, and so trot they did. Thalrick could see the charger that carried them was having trouble staying unstuck, as was Badger's own courser. The old man's horse could have carried ten of him, and moved without trouble through the grubby track.

''Where is Garrion?'' Renly asked Thalrick in a whisper, when the old man had fallen behind by a few yards. Thalrick only shrugged, he knew no more than the other two did. As if by fate, three silhouettes appeared at the crest of the knoll to their left, barely distinguishable in the rain and darkness that had befallen them. The old man did not notice them, but Renly and Badger had. Thalrick breathed a sigh of relief, but it was too loud. The old man reared his horse. ''What are you sighing for, wretch? What is it?'' He stopped then, and Thalrick felt his heart beat out of his chest. Damn it, damn it, damn it. I've ruined it, he knows, he bloody well knows. . .

Wallace drew his gladius as soon as he saw the apparitions atop the hill. ''You've set a trap for us, har! I knew you were no good, little shyke! Lads, we have some company it seems! To arms!'' He tugged at his reins so the horse veered around to face the knoll, whinnying loudly. When neither Harp Steelgreaves or his squire Tyveth Clearwater drew their swords, the scout immediately knew the situation was awry. ''Brigands! All of you!'' He charged forward then, his destrier breaking into a quick gallop. As he rode by Renly he shot a foot out at Thalrick, but missed, and hit the armoured man instead. Surprisingly, there was enough force to it too knock Renly off the charger, and he was sent toppling to the wet mud below. His armour held him down in the slippery mud, and though he tugged for something to help him get up, he found nothing. His armour was too cumbersome, and he was not accustomed to it.

''GO-!!'' Garrion shouted from atop the knoll. Damn it, my bloody sigh did this, this is my fault. It went wrong because of me. Thalrick, you fool. Fool fool fool. Garrion will have my head if he is not caught. Instincts took over, instincts Thalrick had never felt before. A sudden rush of adrenaline made his heart beat faster than the old man's horse ran. He pulled himself forward, wrapped his bound hands around the reins, and dug his heels so hard into the charger he was afraid he might break its ribs. The horse reared and set off after the old man, faster now that the burden of Renly's steel no longer sat atop its back. I've never even rode a horse, not once. . . he thought as it picked up in speed, leaping over a moss-covered log that had fallen across the track. He could hear Badger somewhere behind him, his courser still burdened by the steel.

His horse is too slow with him on it. . . He'll never catch Wallace, no chance. Not with him on that destrier. It's. . . He gulped, It's up to me, then. He dug his heels into the chargers flank and it picked up speed. The night had befallen them, and so pale fingers of moonlight that reached through the canopy were all the light he had. He could hear the old scout ahead of him, but he only came into view when he charged beneath a hole in the canopy. Old petch, I'll catch you. I swear it on all I have. . . He didn't have much to his name, a knife, some clothes, but he'd sworn all the same. He could hear the old bastard mocking him in the chase, laughing and taunting.

''You won't catch me, wretch! Har! Racer is faster than any horse you men ride! It's how he got his name, har!'' He yelled, voice echoing through the trees. The rains had quelled but the ground was still muddy, and often did the charger lose footing and nearly slip. It never did though, but each time it would put more distance between Thalrick and his target. Come on, damn it. . . He flicked the reins and dug his heels, hoping that a miracle would bring the old man off his saddle. It was all he had left to catch him. Soon the sounds of hooves smashing through befallen leaves came from behind him, echoing from the hillocks. It's Garrion and the others, perhaps we have a chance, he thought as he tugged at his reins again.

This is all on me, all my fault, I gave them away. . . I must redeem myself, I must catch him. . . Thalrick's heart beat raced faster than ever before, and his mind was soon a haze of thoughts and ideas and conclusions. He could barely think straight; it was as if all his senses failed him besides his sight. Even his hearing grew dim, as though it was lending its strength to his hands, to keep him on the horse. He became nothing more than eyes, a heartbeat and a steady grip. I cannot fail. . . The man continued to boast about the speed of his horse, and it only made Thalrick more determined to catch him; to prove the speed of Renly's own. The charger was black and broad, but its legs carried its weight without trouble.

The sound of hooves grew closer and closer, but it was not Garrion, nor Badger. They came from before him, and it was then he realized he was making ground on the scout. A shaft of moonlight then revealed him, yards ahead, tugging at his own reins so hard he could have snapped Racers jaw. Thalrick had made ground, but not enough. For what felt like an entire year the man stayed several yards ahead, unaware of how close the boy had been at his heels. It's now, or it's never. . . Thalrick thought as he closed another few yards between them. Wallace looked back to see the boy on him, and spat phlegm into his face. It hit so hard it felt like a pebble being thrown.

''Piss off ya shyke! I'll cut more than ya tongue out, I swear it by all that's good!'' He yelled atop the sound of thundering hooves and splattering mud. Thalrick did not speak, and only allowed the adrenaline to overcome him completely. He lost all control over his body, he lost all control over his senses and his feelings and his own well-being. He lifted himself up enough so that he was nearly standing, and then he leapt. He leaped and he flew. Albeit briefly, he flew, until his entire body weight came crashing down upon the old man and sent him reeling from his saddle. The two fell in a tangled mess down the slope beside them, and rolled and rolled through fallen leaves and over roots and rocks, until Thalrick heard Wallace slam into a tree trunk with a sickening thud.

''Petch. . .'' The old man coughed, writhing in agony. He reached for his gladius and then his dagger, but both had came undone on the way down the slope. He was too weak to move, Thalrick knew. Racer and the charger did not follow them on the descent, and so it was only the boy and the old man, amongst roots and rocks and leaves. Neither had been armed, and Thalrick's hands were still bound, although the ropes had began to loosen. Someone, someone come bloody get him, he realized they had descended quite far down, when he noticed the sheer angle of the slope. His tunic had been ripped and frayed on roots and rocks, and his elbows were covered in blood and dirt. A gash had opened on his forehead, and warm crimson ran down over his eyebrow. The old man seemed worse for wear, brandishing a dislocated shoulder and a large gash on his chin. His armour had saved him from snapping his spine on the trunk.

Thalrick lied there for what felt like the rest of the season, until he heard footsteps rush down the slope, four different sets worth. ''Tyveth bless us,'' Badger began, as he sliced at the ropes that bound Thalrick's hands, ''he got him, well and truly.'' The tall man turned back to Garrion, who was the last of the five down the slope. The leader seemed annoyed and pleased all at once, his mouth twisted in a way that suggested both. Big Axe walked beside him. Renly and Badger no longer wore their armour, and were dressed in the plain clothes they had beneath the steel. Renly had a large cut on his temple, and walked with a limp. ''I'll be damned,'' the archer laughed, ''You actually did it.'' He helped Thalrick to his feet, and they all stared down at the old man, who was conscious, but in too much pain to do or say anything. Thalrick felt the adrenaline leave him as quick as it came, and the gash in his forehead soon burned like hot coals.

''Well done, lad.'' Garrion said drily, eyes never leaving the broken old scout, ''The plan might've not worked, but we caught this bastard all the same,'' he said hoarsely, and lifted the old man up by his cloak, ''On the morrow, he may have some answers for us.'' Garrion had Big Axe beat the man with the flat of his bearded axe until he fell unconscious, and then carried him over one shoulder up the slope. The huge Myrian nearly made the old man look like a child. Thalrick's legs felt like butter beneath him, worn and tired from the ride. Badger supported him as they ascended the slope, and said in a whisper, ''Well done, lad. I truly thought he would get away. Garrion would have had all our heads on spikes, if he had. You've kept my head on my shoulders, I swear it.''

They found the charger and Racer at the top of the slope, still on the track they had ran upon. Lolly held their reins in each of her hands, and smiled when she saw the company emerge through the trees. ''By the light of the moon, they both live!'' She japed, and handed the reins of the charger to Renly. She allowed Thalrick the destrier, and though he had now only ridden a horse once on his own, he felt confident enough to do it again. Badger helped him mount up, before he followed the others off to fetch their own horses. They returned a few minutes later, all mounted. Wallace was slung over the back of Big Axe's destrier, bound in rope from ankle to forearm.

''I'll drink a skin of wine to your bravery tonight, lad.'' Garrion said proudly, and the others all agreed with a cheer.
User avatar
Thalrick
Plagued by proverb
 
Posts: 51
Words: 118406
Joined roleplay: February 26th, 2015, 4:00 am
Race: Human
Character sheet

Fire and the Thud

Postby Devi on April 4th, 2015, 4:06 pm


Your Grades Are On Hold!

It looks like there's an intervention on your Character Sheet. I can see you've been looking into making these amendments already - if you think you've made any changes asked then please do PM the moderator to ask them to review these. If everything is in order then the intervention will be removed. Once that's all sorted then please do PM me and I'll continue to grade your thread.

_
Devi
Workaholic Syliran Doctor
 
Posts: 276
Words: 223466
Joined roleplay: November 15th, 2014, 7:19 pm
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Plotnotes


Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 0 guests