The Chelon Rose

Act 2: the Invasion

The Tales of Martin of Brune

Dead Man Walking

Part I of III | Part II | Part III

Its late at the Apply Tree Inn, the dancing has ceased and the audience settles around the furnace to listen to a strange story.

“I fear to tell you this story” Martin begins “not because it is full of woe, though it is. Not because it is full of strangeness, though it is that too. Not even because it is full of death and gore, though it is all this and more my friends, much more.” “I fear to tell you this story because…. Well you will see why in the course of things.”

“Four score years ago or more, for I am not sure how long ago and the seamstress of time has unraveled the folds of the seasons many times since; back in those days my friends great men walked the streets of Palace. “Oh for sure” you may think “great men walk the streets of Palace even now” perhaps you include yourself among them thinking yourself brave and mighty. But no, these were no ordinary folk, not by the lying teeth of Azeroth.” (Martin’s new saying). “It was driving rain when this group entered Palace, and the clouds, they were so dense and threatening, one on top the other like great castles in the sky. So dense my friends and allies that the day turned to night then to boat pitch, worms turned in their holes and sparrows lost their way. And the rain drove, each drop like a mad javelin seeking out the earth and then drenching the devil himself deep in his fiery cave.” At this point Martin turns to stoke up the furnace fires. He turns back slowly, leans forward and whispers: “but despite this, not one of this group ever had a drop touch their skin or clothes. For they were protected by the mighty faith of the greatest preacher to walk the streets of Palace, St Darrian.” “In this age long ago, the streets of Palace were not only frequented by great men, but, equably by great scoundrels. One of them was a fat and greedy merchant by the name of Gorgon. What this man lacked in stature he made up for in girth and ugliness. The man had evil habits. Pretty young men and women were his victims and slaves and he could fell his enemies with his vile breath alone. He was enormously wealthy and would wear so much gold that when he walked his loping, swaying strides, he would tinkle and twinkle like a great fat pixie.” Martin imitates the swaying walk of an enormously overweight person.

“This man also walked the streets of Palace that night, but neither did the driving rain touch his skin. But he was not protected by faith. No. Instead, he walked along under a great canvass canopy held aloft by a dozen of his love slaves, who naked and shivering, carried the canopy on long poles decorated by gold leaf and gemstones. Also under the canopy were six burly body-guards, mean and sour looking like grape fruit from Indigo.”

“Strange that these two groups were destined to meet. Strange and tragic.”

“Before these two groups meet in the streets of Palace, as indeed they are about to, let me introduce you to the men with St Darrian, for they were all remarkable and a worth a story each in their own right.”

“Here first, meet Bigstar” Martin looks up above him as if staring up at a very tall imaginary person. “Bigstar is no ordinary man, but a giant! He will not shake your hand, for he prefers not the company of people, and that is just as well as you wanted not your hand crushed. Fear this man for he once fought a dragon alone, and won! And the remarkable part was the colour of the dragon’s scales. Seek no further for proof then the scales of his armored breastplate. Go on, look closely, it gleams like gold but is hard like steel.”

“That young women next to him. Pretty, demure and perhaps you think a look of nobility? Her name is Gweneth and that pretty head is full of arcane secrets so be cautious with your eager compliments.”

“That man standing to my left, and looking for all the world like a Barbarian lord is none other then Grulof the Great. Grulof, the man who challenged and defeated armies of orcs single-handedly. The man with a legendary battle rage and a legendary battle axe.”

“And then there is St Darrian, the preacher who talks with the gods. This man was of such strong faith that gods would appear before him, walk with him and perform miracles for him. A preacher of such persuasion that all who listened to his sermons were his converts.”

“Forgive these folks if they are not looking happy, for they mourn the recent loss of their friend, the Ranger Wren. What’s more” Martin whispers, “it has been said to me by even respectable bards that the loss of Wren had caused deep divisions amongst them. Also it is said that when they had entered Palace, they were destitute and had lost all their wealth! Something had happened to them which is not recorded by history my friends, but I am convinced, and I am not alone in thinking this, that they agreed to this meeting with Gorgon only because they had become desperate for money.”

“So let the meeting Proceed!” Martin shouts to air as if addressing history itself, "Episode two of this story will continue at the Apple Tree Inn tomorrow evening. Remember to come early as the inn quickly fills with patrons."

, you have been listening to Martin de Brune (aka Wayne Kington) at the Apple Tree Inn.

Author: Martin de Brune (aka Wayne Kington)

created: 14 February 1998 | Last Updated: January 18, 2002

© Skabo