 |
War:
In the Valley of Peace
 |
 |
The rough looking guard shouts at the retreating wolves, "And now you flee, children of the night?! Don't wanna play anymore?”
He sticks his deadly bastard sword in the ground, picks up an arrow, and aims it at the retreating wolves. After aiming a moment he gives up. And as if all of his energy was spent he falls to his knees dropping the bow. He reaches out and clutches the hilt of the sword, desperately holding onto it. His lips move but if any words come out they are too soft to hear. As if finishing a conversation after several moments he says loud enough for others to hear, "If at least we could know were all these creatures come from, such encounters aren't natural!"
After a minute, he remembers that he was not the only one in such desperate straits a few moments ago. "Still alive?" he cheerfully asks the man with the penny whistle.
He doesn’t wait for an answer as he pulls the sword out of the ground he looks at it strangely, "I never thought my old companion would be so heavy".
With the wolves gone, the dwarf with the footman's pick turns around extends a hand to the minstrel helping him up, "The name's Bormann Grimm, son of Othmar. Are you badly injured?"
The minstrel gratefully acknowledges
the help as he favors one leg, which seems to have been chewed up considerably.
He looks around and limps over to the corpse of a wolf that nearly made it off
the battlefield before bleeding to death. He quickly recovers a pair of finely
made daggers. He wipes the blood off his daggers and limps toward the human
in blue armor.
.
.
.
As if by some mutual signal the
silent clash between the two archers ends as one turns and looks to the north
to watching two distant flying specks. The other archer, the one with the strange
yellowish-white bow that seems to be made of bone, turns toward the newcomers.
.
.
.
The rough looking warrior shakes
his head as he looks at the two archers who while steadfastly ignoring one another
have an aura of hostility between them. "What the hell were they doing?"
The rough looking warrior turns to Bormann Grimm and says, "Hopefully our dwarven companions always throw themselves with courage into battle." He turns to look at the one whose war hammer was of great help, "I am known as Wismerhil, but you should call me 'Wis', like most of my friends used to. Without your kind assistance we couldn't have held these pets longer. Do you always arrive just when needed?"
The dwarf with the mace walks over
to the dwarf with the war hammer and they talk amongst themselves looking warily
at the newcomers, however portions of their conversations can be overheard as
they talk about the ineptness of human and Elvin warriors.
.
.
.
The ranger with the bow eventually
turns around and makes a beeline toward the one person on the battlefield whom
he feels any connection with. He ignores those around him and reaches the ranger
with two swords talking with the man with two flaming swords. "Greetings
to you" he says in a polite tone. "How fare you this day?"
The other ranger replies, "It has been an exciting day thus far. I started the day out normal enough but I seem to have found myself in a small village of people." He laughs nervously, "As they say no good deed goes unpunished."
The man with two flaming swords laughs
and says, "The more the merrier! Battle is the way we show Lord Enerius
our skills. And with each great battle he is pleased."
.
.
.
The white haired guard watches
the newcomers for a few moments, then suddenly seems to remember something as
he quickly moves through the battlefield looking for arrows, the few that he
does find he seems strangely careful not to touch the arrowheads.
.
.
.
The driver of the incoming carriage
is smiling as he casts sidelong glances at the young lady sitting next to him.
The carriage comes to a stop just south of the caravan and the man gets out.
He is a rather rotund man "I am Kerinan and this is my caravan." The caravan owner is dressed in a black shirt, with a matching suede coat, whose shoulders puff out like turned over bowls and whose sleeves don’t quite reach his elbows. The coat is fairly ill fitting as multiple gold chains connect the front sides together, which is also the only reason the thing stays on. He completes his outfit with a black suede hat is shaped like someone squashed a melon on his head and of all things black stockings, apparently he couldn’t get pants made in his size. On each finger there is ring made of silver or gold and they all have gems on them. His clothing is a little wet and grass stained.
He walks up to the man on the black horse and says, "Thank you dear sir for bringing your troops to come rescue my caravan." He gestures to the carriage and wagon trailing behind him, "As you can see I had gone to get some help of my own. It looked like those horrible monsters were too much for my guards and I went for help."
The driver rolls his eyes and shakes his head in disgust.
The caravan owner continues, "My route takes me to the esteemed Torana's Tower. And from the looks of things it will be a much more dangerous journey than I had planned." He pauses looking around to see what is left of his guard and caravan. "Dear Sir...I must thank you again, by what name can I call you?"
The man with the blue brimmed hat with the peacock feather looks to the man on the midnight black horse. The man on the horse surveys the field his gray blue eyes checking everything, but saying nothing.
The other horse rider is a red headed
man with a jagged scar on the side of his face, on the brown horse. He moves
forward, from his surrounding group of archers and soldiers, joining the caravan
owner and the other man on the dark horse. "I am Captain Stamm Hammerfist
and this is the Red Feather Company." He gestures to his men, so newly
arrived
.
.
.
A tall blonde man in shiny bronze
armor looks around and walks over to the dwarf with the footman's pick, "I
see we weren't the only ones to be attacked by ants today." This comment
catches the attention of several people nearby as they look curiously at him,
"And what about those wolves, where did they come from?” Without
waiting for a response he continues while looking around nonchalantly, “Are
you part of the merchant's guards?"
One guard lies down and says, "You guys wake me when dinners ready, cause I'm going to sleep now!" He goes silent but his eyes don't close.
And elf with two swords with a mace-carrying soldier in tow walks over to where the priest of Solutious stands and talks to the elf he just healed, "You're Gwydeon right? You probably don't remember me. My name is Ulqik. My brother and me used to be Princess Lorana's bodyguards and rescuers when she inevitably got herself into trouble."
Another elf comes up to the group and looks at the newcomer as if trying to remember him.
The driver of the original carriage chats amiably with the beautiful woman warrior sitting next to him. While an older man dressed like a mage looks on disgusted. "A toad could do better than that!" He turns and looks around, "What a sorry lot and probably not a good story amongst the lot of them." He shrugs his shoulders and starts to turn away.
Then he spots the man with the blue brimmed hat. He looks thoughtful for a moment then turns and head over toward him, "Good Sir, you look like you're the adventuresome sort. I'm just recently got forced to turn to adventuring." He turns a not-so-nice look back on the young lady, "and I am still inexperienced, perhaps one so well traveled as yourself could perhaps tell me of your adventurers so that I may be a bit wiser and last a little longer on this journey."
***************
The ranger with two swords nods as
the other ranger nears, "Name's Zraxin. How about you?" Before the
other ranger can answer, Zraxin notices that his companion, the man with two
flaming swords, is looking very distracted.
.
.
.
The minstrel wipes the blood
off his daggers and limps toward the human in blue armor helped along by the
dwarf, Bormann Grimm. The minstrel asks meekly, "Sir, if you could please
heal my wounds."
The priest doesn't seem to hear him as he stares at the man with two swords of fire, who returns his stare evenly. The two look at each other with something not quite hate or dislike. More like two gifted competitors sizing each other up while preparing for a big event.
"Yo! Stash! Anybody home?" The big human driving one of the wagon yells toward the human in blue armor. This breaks him out of his staring contest.
Stash looks around and spots the limping Bormann Grimm, "Let me take care of you." He is looking at the injured guard, but he seems to be speaking to someone else, as his voice gets louder. He places a hand on the shoulder of the injured man, "In the name of the wise and ever present Solutious, your wounds shall be... No more!" From the hand of the priest a light blue almost clear glow appears and seems to flow down around his body covering him within moments it pools into the ground and its gone. Where it touched his body the wounds are gone, but the man’s clothing is slightly damp.
The man with the two flaming swords puts them away, "Oooh! Everyone let us marvel at the petty parlor tricks of the cowardly god Solutious!" He stalks over to some of the soldiers in Captain Stamm Hammerfists’ Red Feather Company command. "You two look hurt pretty badly, your wounds are fairly grave."
While the soldiers’ wounds are bad, they could hardly be categorized as grave. The man looks back over his shoulder and says, "Oh great and mighty Enerius!" Staring straight at the priest in blue armor, "Show the pathetic water priest a small sample of the energy you infuse me with. I transfer it to these poor sparks who seems to be dying out due to their association with the water lord!" As he speaks he places one hand on either soldier and they cry out in surprise as sparks appear from the priests hands and they suddenly burst into flames!
The flames last only long enough for the two men to start screaming in terror before they are gone, leaving the men completely whole in body, if not in mind. "See water priest, I am Pyros! Servant of the greatest elemental lord of all, LORD ENERIUS!!" As he speaks the name of his god, the flames on his twin swords flare up behind his back giving him a sort of eerie glow.
"You're nothing but hot air, fire priest!" Stash shoots back.
The two priests stare at each other,
the air between them seems charged.
.
.
.
With the minstrel healed, Bormann
Grimm wanders over to the other two dwarves. The dwarf with the war hammer
looks over at the rough looking guard and says, "If ya had any real skill,
you wimps wouldn't need our help. But then humans are nothing but cannon fodder
in battle anyway."
His companion laughs, "Not much better than kobolds."
Wismerhil shrugs and looks over the
rest of the crowd and says, "But I see we have had help from people I didn't
notice. And I think I should buy myself some knew clothes or some kind of heavy
armor." He sits down and clumsily attempts to bandage his wounds.
.
.
.
The two leaders salute each other.
Captain Hammerfist says, "It's good to see we weren't needed. Where are
you headed?"
Kerinan says, "Yes, Yes, were
are you headed? My humble caravan is headed toward Torana's tower and as you
can see my guards seem to have treated a bit roughly. Also there were two very
large monsters here earlier that threatened us with death and all sorts of other
nasty things. I'm of the opinion that more is safer." One can almost
see the greasy gears moving in his mind.
.
.
.
The man in the bronze armor surveys
the area. Getting the feeling the dwarves would not have much to say to him
and a little wary about the elves. He decides to check out a few things discreetly
and wanders non-chalantly toward the back of the caravan.
.
.
.
The man with the blue brimmed
hat regards the old man for just a moment before his face widens into a broad
grin. "Well sir I must grant that you are indeed an observant one. You
have assessed me well for I am indeed the adventuresome sort, and I do indeed
have many tales to tell. Before I begin however, might I inquire as to your
honorable name?"
"Of course!” He bows apologetically, “Forgive my manners my name is Xedel! The little girl over there” he gestures vaguely in the direction of the caravan driver and the woman he is talking to, "with the bad taste in men is my little sister, Sindel. Blondie over there”, gesturing to the man in bronze armor wandering toward the rear of the caravan, “is Tristan and somewhere around here..." He looks around only briefly to spot his companion. Then shaking his head, "that's Pheras. An utterly useless bunch, but every now and again they get lucky. Now about those tales..."
"Ah my lord Xedel, it is quite a pleasure to meet one who can truly appreciate a fine tale. I am Feldemaan Boreal." The Elf dips into a low bow, removing his hat and swinging it first low, nearly brushing the ground, then out wide, and finally back to rest on his head. "I am known to some as a mage, but to all as a singer, dancer, musician, and of course a weaver of tales. All true to the best of my knowledge of course for I believe that there are no tales as fine as those that have the ring of truth. A tale of my adventures you want, and a tale of my adventures you shall get. Hmm... but where to start?"
Feldemaan grows quiet and assumes a pose of grand reflection for long enough to be dramatic, but not so long he hopes as to make the older man grow impatient... if only he knew this old man can show near infinite patience... when he wants to.
"Ha! I've got it." Feldemaan snaps his fingers dramatically. "What better tale to weave than that of how I ended up with this group that you now see me with!" He gestures with a flourish to the group with whom he had just arrived.
Xedel watches the man like a hawk, his face seems like a child, or rather as much like a child as his aged face could be, paying rapt attention to a storyteller, but something in his eyes gives the impression of a vulture waiting for prey.
"The tale begins for me with my decision to join this confrontation between what are called the goodly races and the Orcs. Some might call it fate, but I look at it as mere chance. There I was on the stage, giving all of my heart to the audience and weaving a fine tale if I do say so myself. The audience too apparently thought well of me for when I walked among them with an upturned hat, all were willing to give coin for what they had just seen. That day I made more coin then in any other two shows combined, but better than the coin by far was the look on people's faces sincere joy. Oh how I wept inside to see that I could have such an effect on people. But not all in the audience were focusing on the tale. It seems that a few men found greater interest in the increasing weight of my hat, if you get my gist."
Noticing that others in the group are now watching, Feldemaan's voice raises enough to be heard by the growing crowd and his gestures grow more animated and more grandiose. "Eventually the audience went along on their way and I was left to pack up my belongings and move on. By now darkness was beginning to descend, almost as if to foretell the dark hearted men who would soon descend upon me. I saw a lone man walking towards me, but more importantly, I noticed a few others creeping in the shadows."
Feldemaan crouches a little and tiptoes in a mocking mimicry of the stalking men. "The approaching man spoke to me, 'Good performer, I am sent by a noble of this city to request a show at a private party' I think it was he said. But as he finished, the men in the shadows leapt to the attack!" His voice turns to a growl as he speaks the last words and just as the last syllable is leaving his throat, he leaps high into air, raising his staff high, and brings it crashing to the ground. "They were hoping to crush me quickly and make off with my coin."
He pauses, his face emotionless and the tension rises in the growing group as they hang onto his every word waiting to find out the outcome of the battle. In a rush he continues "But with a twist, a turn, and a leap," he spins, sprints two steps, whips into a cartwheel, and launches into the air, twisting, and completing a full back flip illustrating the battle as he tells it. Feldemaan lands a good distance away facing Xedel, a huge grin on his face. "I was standing back on the stage, well away from the attackers and already calling on the magically flow of the world to aid me. With the tracing of a rune and the utterance of the arcane words,” he begins tracing a rune in the air. "Dayus visibar, ni jue de zhen, malias menta ba aracnebellia verak Bao Tze!"
Feldemaan extends his hand towards Xedel and a gray globe flies towards him. It erupts into a web that surrounds Xedel for an instant before dissolving without leaving a trace that anything was ever there in the first place.
As the older man's eyes watched the globe erupt into a web and something changed in his eyes. His expression turns to one of calculation and Pheras, who was watching him, whimpers.
Feldemaan stands straight, and matter of factually states, "A great web I conjured, to cover the men and leave them stuck. And you know, I have to say that they were quite lucky to have not escaped my web, for then I would have had to really use some force." He walks back towards the listeners with stately grace until he is again close. "What, you might ask, has any of this to do with me being here? Well you see it was that incident that made me open my eyes. Sure I have heard of violence in the land. I myself have told many stories of violence and evil deeds. But somehow, in all of my travels, I had made it until that point without ever being the victim, or even the target." His voice becomes softer and takes on a scholarly tone. "I began to think of all the tales I've told in the past in real terms. As real experiences and not just stories. From there I began to think about what I've heard about the goings on of today's world, and of this war between the so-called goodly races and the Orcs. It was an easy decision from there to choose to experience first hand the tale, which I may someday be telling to another audience." He pauses and scans each of the people who stopped to listen to his tale. He brings his eyes back to meet the older gentleman's and says in voice that is somehow soft, yet able to be heard by all, "Now it seems that tale includes you." As he finishes, he smiles a smile that does not seem to be a part of the tale, but seems to be sincere.
Xedel begins clapping and soon the
entire audience is clapping and joining in. "Excellent story!” Xedel
says, “It has given me an idea. I hope to hear more someday."
.
.
.
Tristan eventually finds his
way to the back of the caravan. Curiosity gets the better of him and takes a
peek in the caravan to see what the pompous fool is transporting.
After looking around for a bit he returns to the edge of the group and sits down while listening to the end of the story. He begins examining his armor trying to polish out some of the scratches and work out a few of the dents that occurred during his last battle.
***************
Chapter 10: Elemental Trickery
The attractive elvin woman in half plate armor approaches Stash, "Well met again, my friend. Pray tell me you are not going to consider trusting this 'priest' of Enerius..." She spits the name out as if getting rid of something distasteful.
Stash nods in greeting but his eyes never leave those of Pyros.
"...Especially not after what
happened recently. And Krypsyn..." She goes silent her expression forlorn.*
.
.
.
As the two dwarves continue to mock the human warriors fighting ability Bormann
retorts "Stow it Keegan! You too Flint! The human calling himself Wismerhil
fought well enough this day. I'd rather have the likes of him fighting beside
me than either of those priests. He, at least, makes sense. Do what you will...but
as for me, I'd like to know what's going on around here and what's stirring
up the beasts."
.
.
.
The two commanders and the merchant have moved steadily away from the others
and talk quietly amongst themselves. The merchant seems to be haggling over
something but the other two don't seem to be biting.
Some of the soldiers a bit at a loss of what to do fall into old familiar routines and have taken up guard positions watching out for any more trouble.
Ulqik, like many others, watches the two priests with a wary eye. "Looks like trouble, when two faiths collide."
A soldier with a mace standing next to him says, "I thought they were of the same religion?"
Ulqik shakes his head and says, "Almost, but not quite, they both follow the path of the elements, but their individual paths head in opposite directions. Only their gods, keep those two from open warfare."
As the people who watched the performance
slowly disperse, Pheras watches with some trepidation as Feldemaan motions for
Xedel to step a few paces away from everyone else. As they talk quietly amongst
themselves Pheras shudders saying, "Oh no he's getting more ideas. You
can just see the wheels turning in that demented brain of his."
.
.
.
Feldemaan says quietly so as not to be overheard, "Well my friend I hope
you liked my tale as well as how I chose to tell it. Oh and I hope I didn't
startle you with that little illusion." He laughs softly.
"No, No not at all" Xedel says reassuringly, "You have given me a few ideas which with a little research could come in handy."
"So what, if I might ask, brings you and your sister to this caravan for which you seem to hold some disdain?"
"Hmmm, oh it was Sindel's idea.
Her and that fool Tristan, are a bit idealistic. I wanted to chase down some
interesting flying creatures. They seem to be looking for something or perhaps
someone. But I was outvoted 3-1. Pheras has a good head on him and can make
good decisions, but he still has trouble saying no to my little sister. But
that’s no surprise with the family charm and all." He chuckles, "I
don't really have a problem with this caravan, it just seems well guarded now
and they don't need our help. Since her moral obligations are fulfilled we
can get on with the chase."
.
.
.
Pheras turns and walks over to see what Tristan is up to.
Pheras isn't the only one as Bormann ignores the constant taunts of Keegan and Flint, he heads over toward the young blonde man, his bronze armor reflecting the last few rays of sunlight giving him and almost otherworldly appeareance.
To forestall any questions they may have of them Bormann gives the answers first before asking his own questions. "My fellow Dwarves and I are not associates of the caravan. We happened onto the fight and rendered assistance. Who is a guard and who is not? I cannot say. Where the wolves came from? I have not the slightest idea. I can understand the ants attacking a caravan, they're just dumb brutes. But I have never heard of wolves attacking so. They appeared quite suddenly. How far away were you attacked by ants? I wonder if they were from the same tunnels?"
Tristan offers, "Not much more than a league away."
Pheras rubs his chin thoughtfully,
"Two places a league apart attacked by ants. I wonder if it’s the beginning
of some new Orc plot or just a freak accident of nature."
.
.
.
While looking around the ranger with the bow says to Zraxin, "There are
quite a few people here. Did you happen to catch a glimpse of the creatures
flying around the area of the tower?" He glances north in the direction
the flying creatures were last seen in. After a moment he turns back and says,
"By the way, I am known as Cors Flamestrike."
"Well met Cors Flamestrike, my name is Zraxin. As we stand here I am reminded as to why I spend my time in the quiet of the forest. Though it is nothing worse than I have been though before." He smiles, "What bring you here brother of the forests?" He too looks north adding, "I can see the forest isn't far away. Were you part of this caravan or were you attracted by the fight I was?"
The Elvin lass after shaking off her
own dark thoughts and realizing that Stash isn’t paying much attention, wanders
over to this group, "I am Asura, of House Heavenstar. Well met. Where
do you name your home?"
.
.
.
The rough looking guard walks over to Stash and says, "Greetings Sir, my
name is Wren Pal... no... just call me Wren. Perhaps you would be so kind as
to share some of your god's favor with me? That wolf damn near took my leg
off."
A sly smile appears on the priests face as he slowly but deliberately smoothes out his handle bar mustache. "I think I have something that you would like and will help you."
Pyros watches suspiciously as Stash takes out a pair of small vials and a mug. He pours water into one and adds a drop from each the vials. He mixes the drink and hands it to Wren, "Drink this and you'll feel better.”
"Don't drink that poison!" Pyros shouts suddenly, "It will sap your strength and your will. It is one of the water gods pathetic tricks to convince the meek to sacrifice themselves to him!"
Stash growls, "Don't you dare to slander the name of the Great and Wise Lord Solutious! But then your word means naught! How anyone could trust a priest who sets people on fire for his delight!"
Wren hesitates for a moment then drinks the liquid. Much to his surprise it is simply watered down mead. He frowns. Though he is not quite sure how this will help heal his wounds, it does do a good job of killing the pain of the wounds.
Stash smiles triumphantly, "The forces of good will always triumph in the end."
Pyros nods and says, "Exactly! which is why I am going to enjoy watch you BUUUURRRRRNNNNN!!"
Obviously forgotten again Wren returns the mug and wanders over to the Keegan and Flint, figuring that he won’t get a chanced to get healed tonight. The young man doesn’t notice that his wounds are gone among other things...
"See the poison is infecting him already!" Pyros points toward the retreating Wren, who seems a little unsteady on his feet. Wren feeling quite loose wanders over to the two dwarves, "Hi, I just wanted to thank you for you assistance earlier."
The two dwarves start to laugh out
loud.
.
.
.
A man wearing a fine midnight blue robe watches Feldemann and Xedel with some
curiosity. He quickly turns and heads over to the second carriage behind the
caravan driver. The driver, still talking with the enchanting Sindel, frowns
briefly as he catches sight of the man passing by and mutters, "When did
he get off?" The question preoccupies him but only for a moment before
he returns to the enchanting young lady who spares the passerby barely a glance,
"Since you are headed to the tower, I'm think we could help you out. Besides,
there isn't that much left to patrol out this way. All the action is up north.
I'll talk to my friends but I'm sure they won't mind."
.
.
.
Finally the two commanders and the merchant finish their conversation.
"Excellent we are all agree!" Kerinan exclaims, "Your troops shall provide protection while I'll take care of supplies and replace the heavily damaged armor only." He walks away as if he has struck a favorable deal. "Now if you'll excuse me I feel that I must make myself more presentable, these grass stained clothes just won’t do." He soon vanishes into the first carriage.
The two commanders look at the retreating merchant and shake their heads. The one with short black hair says, "You think we should tell him part of our orders are to protect fools like him?"
The other one, with flaming red hair, thinks about it for a moment. Then he says, "If we did that then we wouldn't be able to get that free armor he promised and I'd have to send men out to hunt for food instead of him giving it to us for free. I'd say that was a fair trade for putting up with him."
The commander with flaming red hair steps toward the group at large and shouts, "Attention!"
Once he has the attentions of most of those assembled before him he continues, "For those of you who don't know. I am Captain Stamm Hammerfist and this." He gestures to the other commander, "is Sergent Voreas." We will be escorting the Merchant Kerinan to Torana's Tower. I believe all of you have seen the two flying creatures we encountered earlier. The only thing we know about those creatures is that they are obviously very powerful and more than likely hostile. Which means they could attack at anytime. So stay alert!"
Seargent Voreas steps forward, "Alright men! First order of business is to take care of the dead and clear these carcasses out of here! Then we need to prepare camp for the evening and get those carriages back in working order. I want to move out first thing in the morning."
"Pyros! Stop feuding and act like a priest for once! We got burials and other business to take care of! Get moving!"
Index | Previous Page | Next Page | Return to Atrias
-8-