Tolan landed harder than he would have thought possible based on the speed he was going, and he had been unable to percieve anything during the landing, but now as he opened his eyes he could see everything. He was on his hands and knees at the edge of a large ledge, near the top of a huge peak. A vast mountain range stretched out infront of him, covered in a layer of snow that would make it almost completely unpassable. It was the Gendrick Range, the most hostile part of the highland region, natures best defence against the scorched land for half the year until the snow lessened or thawed. Tolan recognised it from countless interpretations he had seen inscribed on maps. But there was an ill to it, clouds covered the peaks, tainted them a dark, putrid green hue. The air was sucked from Tolans lungs as his perceptions shifted and he saw time pass with frightening purpose. The snow itself began to slowly lessen, and cracks formed in the mountain. Lighting struck the left most peak renting it into pieces and creating a plateau that would make travelling easier, the snow began to melt until it faded completely. Spring had come to the Gendrick Range when everywhere else remained gripped in winter. Across the plateau the creatures began to pour.
A piercing howl rent the air and Tolans attention snapped behind him. The same creature from before advanced on him, its teeth and claws bared for the kill. Tolan scuttled backwards frantically before remembering the power of his palm. He snatched it forward to stop the beast but underestimated the amount of weight he had placed on it, he pitched to one side and his other hand stretched out before sliding over the edge of the ledge, slowly he again began to fall.
This time he landed on his feet, and once again his perception was robbed from him until the moment he landed.
He stood in a square, a lavish square at the centre of a city which lay at the foot of a hill. Atop the hill was the most grand building Tolan had ever seen or heard of. It towered above any creation he had ever seen and its detail even from this distance was exquisite. But again, it was shrouded in ill. Fire ravaged the city and throughout it screams filled the air. The beasts ran to and fro tearing the life from all that it found. Tolan immediately began to run for cover before a body caught his eye. He rushed to the side of the young man fearing that his intuition was correct. It was Sil. Blood trickled from his mouth, and looking into his eyes, Tolan could see no life remained. Tolans attention was snatched away from his brother's body as one of the beasts dragged itself infront of him, but it did not notice him. Several of the creatures were in a position to see Tolan, but all ignored him.
The young man steeled himself, remembered this was simply the work of the poison. He needed to get through it. The fighting seemed to be intensifying up at the extravagant building which dwarved the city, and Tolan knew he needed to know what was happening there, so he turned away from Sil's body and began walking towards it with a single minded determination. He passed the body of Relek, of his mentor, of countless unknown bodies and of a young woman who Tolan had not seen in years, but which almost caused him to stop as he had for his brother until he remembered the folly of caring for a delusion. He closed his eyes to shake off the pain of that imaginary loss and when he opened them he found himself on a balcony overlooking the city which he had just been standing in.
He was in the ornate building, near what must have been its highest point. Turning back into the room he found a grand hall that resembled a throne room of some kind. He walked in slowly, unsure if he would be ignored as he had been so far. Slowly he realised he would recieve the same treatment here, several more of the creatures moved around the room, but all ignored him. In the centre of the room lay a man dressed in the finest clothing wearing a crown of some kind and through his heart was a beautifully crafted, and intricately designed Sceptre. It looked like one of the Sceptres given to each other countries Barons, but Tolan knew little of politics and could not be sure. Moving past the body Tolan was able to see to the end of the hall where a man sat almost drowned in a hugely elaborate black cloak or robe which seemed by some miracle not to get in his way. Besides him stood a sight that Tolan recognised instantly. A huge one eyed Rock Lord. An Unkept. His Unkept. His fist tightened, but again Tolan remembered that this was fever and not reality. He settled himself, breathing deeply, until a growl beside him caught his attention. Turning he saw the same beast that had been stalking him, the only thing in this vision that could percieve him, and this time it was close enough to attack. It lunged with frightening speed and Tolan fell backwards in an attempt to get his palm upright, but he was too slow.
The beast was caught short of fulfilling its promise of death by inches as a huge axe blow slammed it into the ground. An enormous, armoured man stood next to Tolan. He was almost the size of the Rock Lord and Tolan marvelled as to how the man could have been there without him noticing until he remembered where he was. The mans armour glinted with power and a hue of rich blue constantly rolled across its silver surface. The Axe was at least the size of Tolan and as he turned to face young man Tolan finally noticed that he wore a bandage across both eyes. He was blind. Smiling the man reached down to Tolan, offering a hand to his feet. Tolan outstretched his arm to accept the offer and as the two men grasped forearms, Tolan woke up.
Friday 10 April 2009
Part 10 - Open Your Eyes
Tolan slowly opened his eyes. He recognised the alleyway where he had fallen unconscious instantly, but his perceptions seemed to be hiding a distinct difference. Slowly he rolled onto his face, feeling his nose scrape across the cold stone floor, but there was no discomfort. Carefully Tolan climbed to his feet, struggling to remain aware of the danger he knew he should be in. His eyes scanned the alleyway but he percieved no threat, obviously the danger had passed. All too quickly Tolan realised his error, it couldnt have passed, he had been stabbed! He reached down to his side, but only a rent in his leather vest showed any sign of damage, the skin beneath was unmarked. The young man's thoughts began to reel, he knew he had been stabbed, he had felt the blade. Then comprehension dawned on him, he focused his vision on the wall to his right in order to clarify his beliefs. It was whole, but somehow transparent; inchoate. The blade had held poison, this must be an effect of it, none of this was real. But that didnt mean it couldnt hurt him.
Regaining his composure, Tolan began to walk down the alleyway, seeking something but unsure what. As he approached the mouth of the alleyway he was able to see out into the street, which was wreething and alive with hundreds of strange, grotesque creatures. All had two legs and two stunted wings like malformed dragons, but they each used their limbs in different ways, some dragged their bodies along the floor, pushing themselves along like basilisks, others limped forward using their wings while yet the majority strode on their legs flaring their wings challengingly at others. Quickly the young man attempted to retreat back into the alleyway, but it was too late, the creature nearest him had spotted the movement and began to advance.
Tolan fell back as far into the alleyway as he could, but it was no use, he had been in this position before, and faced this dead end both times. Slowly the creature drew itself into the mouth of the alleyway. It stood on its hind legs like most of the other creatures and towered over Tolan. Despite the low light Tolan could clearly see the black viscus liquid salivating from the creatures jaws. It was the very poison that the knife had bore before it pierced him. This was the harbinger of Tolan's death and it had come to claim him.
The young churchman was no coward, and even in the face of death he would not relent. He took a battle ready stance despite the knowledge that this was not real. Somehow his weapons had been taken from so he would need to do this barehanded, but he had been taught some unarmed techniques during his tutelage. Slowly he extended his left arm palm forward towards his enemy while he tucked his right fist in, cocking it for one large blow. The beast advanced. Or at least it seemed to, for instead of moving closer it seemed to be walking against an unseen barrier, as if Tolan's palm was stopping it. As soon as Tolan realised this was happening the walls around him became even more transparent, seeming to dissolve around him revealing plains and citys which he had never percieved before. Something was changing and Tolan only had moments to take advantage of it, so with one large stride he launched himself at the nearest wall, which he slipped through as if it had never been there, and slowly, he began to fall.
Regaining his composure, Tolan began to walk down the alleyway, seeking something but unsure what. As he approached the mouth of the alleyway he was able to see out into the street, which was wreething and alive with hundreds of strange, grotesque creatures. All had two legs and two stunted wings like malformed dragons, but they each used their limbs in different ways, some dragged their bodies along the floor, pushing themselves along like basilisks, others limped forward using their wings while yet the majority strode on their legs flaring their wings challengingly at others. Quickly the young man attempted to retreat back into the alleyway, but it was too late, the creature nearest him had spotted the movement and began to advance.
Tolan fell back as far into the alleyway as he could, but it was no use, he had been in this position before, and faced this dead end both times. Slowly the creature drew itself into the mouth of the alleyway. It stood on its hind legs like most of the other creatures and towered over Tolan. Despite the low light Tolan could clearly see the black viscus liquid salivating from the creatures jaws. It was the very poison that the knife had bore before it pierced him. This was the harbinger of Tolan's death and it had come to claim him.
The young churchman was no coward, and even in the face of death he would not relent. He took a battle ready stance despite the knowledge that this was not real. Somehow his weapons had been taken from so he would need to do this barehanded, but he had been taught some unarmed techniques during his tutelage. Slowly he extended his left arm palm forward towards his enemy while he tucked his right fist in, cocking it for one large blow. The beast advanced. Or at least it seemed to, for instead of moving closer it seemed to be walking against an unseen barrier, as if Tolan's palm was stopping it. As soon as Tolan realised this was happening the walls around him became even more transparent, seeming to dissolve around him revealing plains and citys which he had never percieved before. Something was changing and Tolan only had moments to take advantage of it, so with one large stride he launched himself at the nearest wall, which he slipped through as if it had never been there, and slowly, he began to fall.
Saturday 4 April 2009
Part 9 - The First Arm of the Church
"This is beyond me" The Father's words were detached, curt and beyond question, but his eyes promised more words would follow as they darted around the room. He said nothing more for a few seconds but three of the Brother's in the room moved off in different directions clearly responding to some unspoken order. "Different arms of the church carry with it different knowledge. We have the ability to prolong life. What you need is the ability to prevent death"
"There's a difference?" Relek still held Tolan in his arms and the young man's fever had given him energy beyond what a dying man should have. He was now thrashing wildly and several times Relek had to shift his grip in order to stop the man from falling to the stone floor of the church.
"Yes, Relek"
"How do you know me?" Relek's tone was overly accusatory, far more than he intended.
"Many times you have been blamed for the sore heads attending my services" Relek stifled a laugh poorly
"My apologies Father, i did not mean it to sound so harsh"
"No need for such apologies my son, we have more important things to deal with" Relek visibly relaxed while still keeping his strong hold on Tolan. Only once Sil had seen this reaction did his own ease. He removed his hand from the hilt of his knife and relaxed his battle ready pose which was expertly hidden beneath his dark cloak. He did not take insults to the church well, and if umbridge had been taken by the Father, then Relek would now be paying for it in a cost of blood.
The Brothers returned moments later carrying various items, which they promptly arranged on the pew. Before the elder clergyman moved around the pew to stand infront of it as if he was preparing to deliver a sermon to the entire church. A brother to Releks right gestured towards the pew and Tolan was placed in the centre. His thrashing had lessened noticably, clearly the reserves of his strength had run out, and his life would soon follow. Sil stood to one side and was so quiet it unnerved Relek, but the blacksmith had little time to dwell on this as an almighty clap due his attention back to the Father.
The Father's hands came apart slowly before reaching down and picking up a large candle. He placed the candle at the top of Tolans head before lifting a bowl of water, softly he began to sing. The song soothed everyone in the room. Shoulders relaxed, breathing eased, stances opened. Only once the song had firmly taken its hold did the Father continue. He slowly poured the water along the length of Tolans body soaking his clothes and face. The song began to grow stronger, but its comfort did not lesson, instead it began to feel as if it was trying to coax something from those listening. The water covering Tolan suddenly erupted into flame and Relek jumped before beginning to surge towards the pew, but Sils hand darted out to restrain the blacksmith and with a surprising amount of strength he held the man in place.
"Watch" Relek could see now that no harm was coming to Tolan, his skin did not blister or burn, but remained clear and unmarked. The Father however sweated profusely, either through the heat or some unknown exertion. He reached for the candle and slowly lowered the wick into the flame. The moment the wick caught fire he moved it back to Tolan's head and placed it on the pugh before returning his attention to the flame infront of him. He slowly raised his hands again before releasing another thundering clap which immediatly extinguished the flames. All except the candle. With that act the Father crumpled, only managing to keep his feet by bearing his weight onto the pew. Drenched in sweat he looked up into Sil's eyes.
"My name is Father Pelium, tell them and they will know how to reverse what i have done. If Tolan is strong enough to resist, you have one day" With those words he collapsed into unconsciousness and Sil ran to the pew
"Quickly we must go"
"Where? Who does he mean?" The blacksmith had been trying to catch up with what was going on since the moment he had awoken and things only seemed to be accelerating, he could not hope to work things out on his own
"To the holy city, it is just over a days ride and we have one, so i recommend you save your questions until our arrival"
"There's a difference?" Relek still held Tolan in his arms and the young man's fever had given him energy beyond what a dying man should have. He was now thrashing wildly and several times Relek had to shift his grip in order to stop the man from falling to the stone floor of the church.
"Yes, Relek"
"How do you know me?" Relek's tone was overly accusatory, far more than he intended.
"Many times you have been blamed for the sore heads attending my services" Relek stifled a laugh poorly
"My apologies Father, i did not mean it to sound so harsh"
"No need for such apologies my son, we have more important things to deal with" Relek visibly relaxed while still keeping his strong hold on Tolan. Only once Sil had seen this reaction did his own ease. He removed his hand from the hilt of his knife and relaxed his battle ready pose which was expertly hidden beneath his dark cloak. He did not take insults to the church well, and if umbridge had been taken by the Father, then Relek would now be paying for it in a cost of blood.
The Brothers returned moments later carrying various items, which they promptly arranged on the pew. Before the elder clergyman moved around the pew to stand infront of it as if he was preparing to deliver a sermon to the entire church. A brother to Releks right gestured towards the pew and Tolan was placed in the centre. His thrashing had lessened noticably, clearly the reserves of his strength had run out, and his life would soon follow. Sil stood to one side and was so quiet it unnerved Relek, but the blacksmith had little time to dwell on this as an almighty clap due his attention back to the Father.
The Father's hands came apart slowly before reaching down and picking up a large candle. He placed the candle at the top of Tolans head before lifting a bowl of water, softly he began to sing. The song soothed everyone in the room. Shoulders relaxed, breathing eased, stances opened. Only once the song had firmly taken its hold did the Father continue. He slowly poured the water along the length of Tolans body soaking his clothes and face. The song began to grow stronger, but its comfort did not lesson, instead it began to feel as if it was trying to coax something from those listening. The water covering Tolan suddenly erupted into flame and Relek jumped before beginning to surge towards the pew, but Sils hand darted out to restrain the blacksmith and with a surprising amount of strength he held the man in place.
"Watch" Relek could see now that no harm was coming to Tolan, his skin did not blister or burn, but remained clear and unmarked. The Father however sweated profusely, either through the heat or some unknown exertion. He reached for the candle and slowly lowered the wick into the flame. The moment the wick caught fire he moved it back to Tolan's head and placed it on the pugh before returning his attention to the flame infront of him. He slowly raised his hands again before releasing another thundering clap which immediatly extinguished the flames. All except the candle. With that act the Father crumpled, only managing to keep his feet by bearing his weight onto the pew. Drenched in sweat he looked up into Sil's eyes.
"My name is Father Pelium, tell them and they will know how to reverse what i have done. If Tolan is strong enough to resist, you have one day" With those words he collapsed into unconsciousness and Sil ran to the pew
"Quickly we must go"
"Where? Who does he mean?" The blacksmith had been trying to catch up with what was going on since the moment he had awoken and things only seemed to be accelerating, he could not hope to work things out on his own
"To the holy city, it is just over a days ride and we have one, so i recommend you save your questions until our arrival"
Wednesday 25 March 2009
Part 8 - Meeting Death
Releks eyes fluttered. He felt warm. Comfortable. Still groggy, he chose to keep his lids closed, to enjoy the moment. His warmth seemed to be coming from above him, so he decided to roll over, spread the comfort. Lazily he began to turn, but found he could not, something was pinning him down. The warmth was increasing now, becoming uncomfortable and Relek again tried to turn, but he remained pinned. Slowly he opened his eyes. They were instantly assailed by ash and harsh hues of orange and red, blinking back tears he looked down to his waist. A large beam pinned him to the groud as he witnessed his beloved forge finally do what it appeared it had always wanted to do, such was the hunger with which it consumed the blacksmiths. Relek attempted to slide out from under the beam, but its weight was too great. He frantically began searching the ground around him for something to wedge under in order to lever it up, but all around him lay splintered wood, and all his tools lay still perfectly in place on their table at the opposite side of the room. Relek began cursing his tidyness before feeling a large lump under his leg. It was his trusty hammer, he realised he must have been using it when this all began happening, somehow his memory of how this happened was unclear to him. Awkwardly he began twisting to reach under the beam towards his leg before gripping the red hot hammer. His tough hands were able to ignore the searing heat and he wedged it under the heavy beam before squirming out. Instinctly he brought the hammer with him, causing the beam to fall to the floor, triggering several other beams to lose their position and starting a cataclysmic collapse of the building. Relek only had moments to react before the roof began collapsing around him, but his old battle ready senses allowed him to dash for the door before he was crushed and to crash through it shoulder first into the cold street outside.
The frosty air snapped the blacksmith to alertness instantly and the highlanders overhead swipe at him was easily dodged. Relek only had a moment to notice the otherhighlander fleeing the scene before the swordsman came at him again. The man foolishly tried another overhead swipe and Relek rolled to the side before deftly swinging the small smithys hammer into the side of the mans knee, buckling his leg completely and causing the man to collapse to the floor in agony. Relek collected the man's sword and set off after the other man at a run as his memories flooded back to him through the bitter, cold air.
The group of highlanders had entered as Tolan left. Five in all, each clad in that similar style as if an attack from nature was more important to defend against than any sword or axe. But it was effective style, so many layers always caused problems for a blade. The largest of them had started enquiring about various weapons before asking odd questions about the young churchman and his business at the smithy. Relek had not given away much, only that Tolan had come to collect something and was now delivering it. After that he had turned his back for only a moment and he must have been clubbed from behind, for when he awoke the inferno that was his lifes work had already reached critical size.
Relek was gaining on the highlander who had fled him, probably because the blacksmith was fuelled by blind rage and the highlander seemed to be struggling to remember a route of some kind which bought Relek valuable seconds at each turn. Until at one last turn the blacksmith was able to grab the mans shoulder using the hand still holding his hammer and pull the highlander back towards him so that his friends blade could slide through him. The body collapsed to the floor sliding off the blade and Relek took deep panting breaths, finally realising the exertion he had just forced on himself. He turned to face the direction he had come, but a memory crossed his mind and he wondered about the safety of Tolan, his new friend. Curiously he peered around the corner the highlander had not yet made and saw about a third of the way down the street; in the mouth of an alleyway, a hulking highlander attempting to discreetly hold a large double headed axe. The man was about fifty feet away, and the light was dim, Relek could easily sneak up on him, but if there were more they would no almost immediatly. The blacksmith had walked past that alleyway many times during the day time, he knew it was a dead end, and he knew if Tolan was in there, he was trapped. There was no choice. Relek was going to have to help.
He made no sound as he approached the huge man, he hooked the strap of his hammer around his wrist and reached around to cover the mans mouth as he slid the blade between the mans shoulderblades. Silent. Until the man's axe hit the floor. The clatter caused the other two highlanders in the alleyway to look around just in time to see Relek fling the large mans body to one side and swing the hammer back into his hand before heaving it at the man closest to him. It caught the man square in the face, shattering his nose and cheek, and turning his head back the way it had come so sharply that his neck snapped and he was dead before he hit the ground. The other man paniced and charged the blacksmith, but Relek was well trained and parried the mans sword against the wall before running him through with his sword all the way down to its hilt so that warm blood ran over his cold bare hand. Pushing the body to one side Relek saw Tolan on the floor at the end of the alleyway, he was babbling inordantly and his eyes fluttered, even if blood hadnt been seeping from his side it was obvious to Relek something was very wrong.
He kneeled beside the young churchman and attempted to stem the flow of blood with his hands, but it had little to kno effect, and the odd fever Tolan was in seemed to be gaining momentum. He began looking around for something to tie the wound with when he saw the knife on the floor with the viscus black liquid coating the blade. Poison. Relek knew posion was beyond his knowledge, so he quickly grabbed the knife; storing it where he knew it could not cut him and lifted Tolan before starting out of the alleyway. As he reached the end of the alley he began to contemplate which way to go, who would be most likely able to help Tolan, but he had few ideas and indecision tore at him. That indecision cost him dearly as a large group of men entered the street, around seven, huddled in a "v" shape. Highlanders. They all slowly drew swords and axes. Relek sighed. He wasnt good enough to fight this many, only the element of surpise had allowed him to take out three. He slowly placed Tolan on the floor before fixing his grip on his sword and setting his battle stance. At least he wasnt going to go quietly.
The group smiled at him malevolently. And then there attention was snapped away. A ball rolled infront of them. A large ball, like the one most children kick and throw to eachother. It rolled clean past them and stopped a few feet away. And then in the middle of this deserted street a young man ran out of a shop, directly across the path of the armed men, within only a foot, to collect his ball. He bent over, picked up the ball and turned to face the armed men. They stared back at him until the man at the head of the "v" suddenly fell to his knees, dropping his sword and clutching at his stomach, before falling onto his face and laying perfectly still. All eyes returned to the young man who stood smiling at the group.
Almost seamlessly he threw the ball into the face of the man nearest before ducking, and then weaving into the middle of the "v". Somewhere between throwing the ball and entering the group, the young man was able to unsheath two daggers from somewhere on his person. Relek stood over fifteen feet from the group, could see everything, but somehow missed every movement the young man carried out. He understood with sickening clarity that anything he couldnt see would be impossible to comprehend and especially defend from point blank range. Within moments sprays of blood began emerging from the group, Relek could see the damage the young man was doing only from the reactions of the highlanders as cold steel left its mark on each of them. But even after Relek had seen each man cry out in pain, the young man continued to whirl between them, determined to visit as much pain and suffering on them before gravity pulled them from his grip. As the last body slumped to the floor the man was already stationery, but still battle ready and covered in his victims blood. He panted heavily before seeming to snap out of some battle frenzy and begin storming towards Relek. Releks sword point was still up and he quickly lowered it, fearing the wrath of the young man who stood infront of him, capable of reigning death on him before the blacksmith could even blink
"Peace friend, i wish you no harm"
"That is wise blacksmith, for only a fool wastes wishes on things even the Gods cannot do" The young mans words were curt, but powerful "Is my brother alive?" Emotion crept into his voice, and immediatly Relek understood, this was Sil
"Yes, but i know not how long for. He's been poisoned, i have the blade that bore it" Relek drew the blade revealing the liquid to Sil
"Quickly then, bring him, we must take him to the church" Sil began turning away before Releks plea caught him
"You give up on him already? He needs a healer not a church!" Sil smiled in a way that chilled Relek more than the night air
"Ah my friend...has tonight taught you nothing of the hidden strengths of the church?" He did not wait for a response but turned and began to lope away in the direction of the church, leaving Relek standing in the middle of the street with seven corpses infront of him, three behind and a dying man who had set it all in motion.
Wednesday 18 March 2009
Part 7 - Close Quarters
Tolan had miscalculated. The majority of the town he had seen thus far was open plan; probably an effort to make it easily navigable to visitors, but Tolan’s moment of desperation had caused him to choose the one alley in the entire town that led to a dead end. His momentum carried him to the wall at the end of the alley and he immediately began searching for hand holds or items to use to boost him up, but there was nothing. With a sigh of resignation he stepped away from the wall and turned to face his assailant. The huge man stood at the end of the alley but did not enter. Tolan stood with his feet set, ready to sprint past the big man if a gap presented itself, but before that could happen two men moved past the northerner into the alley, unsheathing swords as they passed him. For the briefest of moments Tolan thought about unwrapping the sword that currently rested on his back, but that would be foolish. He knew nothing of the reasons why it meant so much to the church. It could be more powerful than he could wield, or it could be powerless, or it could even be something horrific. No, he was going to have to stick to his dirk. Stick to his dirk and pray for a miracle, he was nowhere near skilled enough with a short blade to take on two long swords. Back in the abbey his sword master had explained to him several times that no matter how skilled you were, some times you needed a miracle, but the more skilled you were, the longer the miracle had to arrive. With this galvonizing thought in mind, Tolan drew his blade and set his stance. Slowly and carefully he took stock of his surroundings like an artist making sure everything he needed was perfectly in reach before starting his work. The location had its advantages, although there was virtually no room for Tolan to back up, he couldn’t really afford to risk a parry or a block with such a short blade anyway. Instead he had to try and get between the swordsmen; or at least appear to, so that they were forced out against the walls of the narrow alley, that would allow him freer movement while limited there swings and thrusts, but to do that he first had to get past any initial lunges or slices. The two men slowly advanced, shoulder to shoulder, measuring their prey. Their caution put Tolan at a disadvantage and he searched frantically for his opening while attempting to keep his mien as clear as he possibly could.
The man on the left lunged, intending to catch Tolan in indecision and skewer him, but Tolan was quick, and rolled around the blade up towards the man. The cut of the blade glanced off Tolans leather chestpiece and he raised the dirk to cut up into the mans abdomen. His motion was too heavy though, he had focused so much on avoiding the mans sword tip that he had not properly set himself up for his follow up and the dirk caught on the mans hilt, knocking the dirks blade off in an odd direction away from the attacker. Tolan was within two swords now, a dangerous position in open territory, but relatively safe in a spot were neither man had the room to hack.
Tolan spun back the way he had come, pushing off the man who had attacked him, but as he did so something caught his side sharply and caused him to suck air in involuntarily and lose the momentum of his flurry. He came to a stop in his battle ready position just short of the back wall facing the two men. The man who had not lunged smiled at him malevolently and held a small dagger in his off hand. Tolans hand slowly moved down to his side where he was bleeding heavily. He felt oddly dizzy and nauseous. He had been cut before, this hadn’t happened before. His head reeled trying to comprehend what had happened until his vision focused on the mans blade. He could see on the tarnished silver of the blade a thick black liquid mixed with his own blood, it had been doused in poison. The two men did not make any effort to attack further, they knew they had already won and saw no point in risking any injury. All they needed to do was wait until Tolan’s strength sapped away from him, and then they could take what they wanted. Instinctively Tolan lashed out with his dirk, but he missed by feet and the momentum of his own weight almost carried him off balance, the poison was potent, more potent than anything he had encountered before, or even heard of. Tolan closed his eyes in an attempt to clear his head and silently wished for his miracle. A clatter echoed through the alleyway and the two attackers turned to face their companion guarding the entrance. Tolan saw his opportunity to strike and tried to focus his energy. With all his strength he swiped the dirk, but as soon as the movement began he seemed to lose his sense of how to remain upright, and before his dirk even crossed infront of him the stone floor rose up to embrace him. The cold stone soothed his bruised cheek as his eyes slowly closed.
The man on the left lunged, intending to catch Tolan in indecision and skewer him, but Tolan was quick, and rolled around the blade up towards the man. The cut of the blade glanced off Tolans leather chestpiece and he raised the dirk to cut up into the mans abdomen. His motion was too heavy though, he had focused so much on avoiding the mans sword tip that he had not properly set himself up for his follow up and the dirk caught on the mans hilt, knocking the dirks blade off in an odd direction away from the attacker. Tolan was within two swords now, a dangerous position in open territory, but relatively safe in a spot were neither man had the room to hack.
Tolan spun back the way he had come, pushing off the man who had attacked him, but as he did so something caught his side sharply and caused him to suck air in involuntarily and lose the momentum of his flurry. He came to a stop in his battle ready position just short of the back wall facing the two men. The man who had not lunged smiled at him malevolently and held a small dagger in his off hand. Tolans hand slowly moved down to his side where he was bleeding heavily. He felt oddly dizzy and nauseous. He had been cut before, this hadn’t happened before. His head reeled trying to comprehend what had happened until his vision focused on the mans blade. He could see on the tarnished silver of the blade a thick black liquid mixed with his own blood, it had been doused in poison. The two men did not make any effort to attack further, they knew they had already won and saw no point in risking any injury. All they needed to do was wait until Tolan’s strength sapped away from him, and then they could take what they wanted. Instinctively Tolan lashed out with his dirk, but he missed by feet and the momentum of his own weight almost carried him off balance, the poison was potent, more potent than anything he had encountered before, or even heard of. Tolan closed his eyes in an attempt to clear his head and silently wished for his miracle. A clatter echoed through the alleyway and the two attackers turned to face their companion guarding the entrance. Tolan saw his opportunity to strike and tried to focus his energy. With all his strength he swiped the dirk, but as soon as the movement began he seemed to lose his sense of how to remain upright, and before his dirk even crossed infront of him the stone floor rose up to embrace him. The cold stone soothed his bruised cheek as his eyes slowly closed.
Wednesday 11 March 2009
Part 6 - The First Page
Im going to follow the advice of the old guy a bit here. I was struggling a bit trying to work out the next part, and as a result, i ran the risk of stalling. He suggested i do the section after that and then just come back to it when i can, but normally i like to do things sequentially, mainly because it feels natural. However, i dont want to stall, so im going to move on and simply ask for your understanding.
In Part 5
Simply put. Tolan finishes explaining how he came to work for the church (he now is basically sent out into the world to collect trinkets and return them to the church, he doesnt know what they do or why, he is simply a courier, as is Sil and several other young men whom Tolan doesnt really know). Then Tolan offers precious stones to pay for the sword, but Relek rejects them saying that its a service for the church, blah blah blah, Tolan conceeds when Relek suggests the church simply owe him a favour (its a part of Rock-Folk tradition to avoid using currency as it all in one way or another comes from rock). Tolan agrees and leaves when a group of men enter seeking the blacksmith so that he doesnt get in the way of Relek's business. He carries the sword wrapped in a blanket on his back.
Right, now you know what ive caused you to miss, for now, so lets continue
Part 6 - The First Page
The cold evening air bit at Tolan after the snug warmth of the Blacksmith's. He pulled his cloak around him, but it bunched under the weight of the sword and would not fully cover his chest. A cloud of steam passed his lips as he sighed in frustration, he was going to have to try and make it to the inn holding his horse quickly otherwise he risked catching a chill, a chill that would only be exacerbated by the week long ride to the Abbey. Tolan started off at a brisk walk putting extra weight down into each step in an effort to keep his blood pumping warmth through him. Small towns like this one rarely stayed active once evening set in, and all around people were making their way off the streets or closing shops. The cold had helped to snap Tolan awake after the cosy comfort of Relek's and now he drank in the small amounts of bustling activity as he breezed through the streets. A faint smell tickled Tolan's nostrils and suddenly he was aware of just how hungry he was. He had eaten only a small amount of travel food on the way to the town and since then had been seeking out Relek who had only been able to supply him with mead rather than anything substantial. A short way up the road that Tolan was on, a small shop was still brightly lit, with a table outside cluttered with items and emanating from the main building was the strong smell of almost ready food. Tolan had better manners than to intrude on someones meal simply because he was hungry, but that didnt stop him from wanting to drink in the wonderful smell that awakened his senses. He drifted over to that side of the street as he approached and noticed something even more intoxicating to him that the smell of freshly cooked food. It was a bookshop. Tolan had spent his first few years in the Abbey hiding among the various rooms of the Abbey's library, often his bed would be found empty at night and the young boy would be sat next to a large window in the library reading by moonlight. His love for books had grown exponentially since then much to the joy of those who taught him, or at least helped him to teach himself.
Tolan approached the table slowly and drank in the rich assorment of books that covered it. Parchment was a valuable commodity and books were possesions to be prized by even the richest of men. Rather than taking the years needed to gain experience on the field of battle or on the streets of commerce, Tolan had taken on board the experiences of hundreds before him who had passed on the descriptions of their successes and failures in various volumes for all who were willing to learn. This is where he saw the true blessing of Parchment, in the sharing of knowledge. Many volumes existed on the strategies and tactics of war and combat, but as Tolan began to mature, it was the complex theological volumes that discussed the concepts of the Gods and it was one such book now which commanded his attention.
“The Exodus of Heaven” it was a study by the current Head of the Brishik faith, Elias. Tolans earliest memories were of the kindness he found at the hands of the teachers of the Brishik faith, and had been a loyal servant for the 15 years since. He had never met Elias or High-Servant Elias as was his formal title, but throughout his education he had been informed that some of the options before him were placed there at the request of the High-Servant for some unknown reason. Tolan never questioned the reasons for this directly, but instead worked beyond the very best of his abilities, so not to disappoint so holy a figure. In his youth however, Tolan was prone to daydreaming about the reasons for this Holy guardian who watched over him, and this daydreaming led him to reading the many theological volumes written by Elias, and had found the man to be an astute minded individual who’s faith was not blind, but truly earned.
“The Exodus of Heaven” was the first book Tolan had ever read of Elias’ and one that Tolan had since been banned from reading because of the damage that excessive usage had done to it. Since the day that Brother Andreas had chased him from that section of the library Tolan had longed to own his own copy, but the code of the church forbade him from owning anything personal. Some people chose to circumvent this rule; like his childhood friend Quill, who had a lavishly decorated room at the Abbey, but Tolan was a good man, and one devoted to every avenue of his faith. He held the book in his hands a moment, feeling the leather binding which had fallen off the abbeys copy several reads ago. It was barely used. Sighing he placed it back on the table, but another book caught his eye. Bound in a tan leather and bearing no words on the front cover but instead, a large symbol which seemed oddly familiar to Tolan, but he could not place. He picked it up and turned it over. There were no words anywhere on the front, back or spine, and the leather seemed careworn, but in no way anything near what you would call damaged. Tolan slowly opened the first page which held only one sentence “Spy the man who attempts to become your shadow” Tolan was suddenly confused beyond any words, and he quickly turned to the next page. It was blank. Tolan quickly flicked through all the pages to find that they were all blank, save for the first. Tolan read it again, puzzled by what it could mean. “Spy the man who attempts to become your shadow”.
The sentence made no sense to Tolan, and his mind worked quickly to ascertain the logic behind what seemed to be...Tolan couldn’t quite put his finger on it until it clicked. It was a command. Tolan was compelled for some primitive reason to look back the way he had come and there he saw what the book wished him to. Halfway down the street behind him was a cloaked man stood at a silk stall looking in his direction. The man was of a far larger build than Tolan, muscled, cloaked and hiding what seemed to be a fairly large Axe. All that was visible outside the cloak was the mans head, shrouded in shadow and the arm which held the end of a sheet of silk in front of him which was roughly leathered in the style of most Mercenaries and Brigands from the highlands to the north. His tightly bound and heavily padded boots further betrayed his mountainous origins where men often hired themselves out to the small often snowed in villages suffering from Troll or Goblin problems. The man looking over at Tolan would not have been cause for alarm on its own, but the fact that the scruffy man was being shouted at by the small female vendor in front of him without even noticing was enough to raise Tolan’s suspicions.
Tolan closed the book firmly ready to begin trying to lose his tail, but as he went to place the book back on the table, he was compelled to open it once more. What would the book say now that he had done what it wanted? Slowly he opened it and read the finely inked words across the first page.
“This story is not to be taken lightly, nor should anyone who embarks upon it feel forced into service. Save for one. Tolan; son of the Brishik Faith, only you are forced to bare this story for you are its beginning; its opening chapter, and leaving so powerful a gift on an unknown table, in an unknown street will only cause the story to come to a premature and unwelcome conclusion.”
Comprehension escaped Tolan, and he decided that the safest thing to do rather than stand here trying to understand such a statement, would be to take the book back to the Abbey, there he could get help in making sense of it. He placed a single polished stone into the box at the end of the table and hastily pushed the book into his satchel alongside the brooch.
Tolan continued on his path down the street he was on, careful not to look back at the man he knew was following him. Measuring his steps mindfully he attempted to look casual, peering around at the street life around him as it slowed down to a trickle of people heading home for the evening. Ahead of Tolan about fifty foot, the street was suddenly plunged into darkness, either because of a lazy Lamp Watchman, or for some other more sinister reason. Given the circumstances, Tolan leaned towards the latter as the most likely explanation. A careful look down at his feet showed Tolan the looming shadow of his unknown tail, he was gaining, presumably to coincide with the area of darkness just ahead. Although gifted with sword skills more than sufficient to keep him alive, Tolan was not by any means a bulking, behemoth like the warriors to the far North. Their huge double headed War-Axes would be a struggle for Tolans lean figure to even get a handful of swings out of. This lack of bulk however gave him two advantages over most bog-standard warriors, it made finding his footing ten times easier, allowing him to open up his style to encompass a number of unorthodox or rare techniques, but it also made him fast, in combat, and more importantly, out.
It was this particular advantage that Tolan was going to need to make use of..not through the darkness, that would be suicide, an attacker would only need to hold their weapon out at shoulder height and wait for Tolan to decapitate himself, perhaps through the side alley just off to the left...Tolan’s astute mind quickly weighed up all the options. If he was seen to be deliberately avoiding the trap, an archer could just as easily pick him off. But if there was an archer, surely he’d already be dead, there was no-one around to witness an assassination except the man following him, and something told Tolan the huge man wouldn’t go running off crying for the Night Watchman. The alleyway was his only choice, and making no effort to hide his choice, he made a short sharp burst for it feet before the darkness. He heard the hurried, cumbersome steps behind him, and the familiar scrape of leather on steel as the man behind him unlimbered his huge Axe.
In Part 5
Simply put. Tolan finishes explaining how he came to work for the church (he now is basically sent out into the world to collect trinkets and return them to the church, he doesnt know what they do or why, he is simply a courier, as is Sil and several other young men whom Tolan doesnt really know). Then Tolan offers precious stones to pay for the sword, but Relek rejects them saying that its a service for the church, blah blah blah, Tolan conceeds when Relek suggests the church simply owe him a favour (its a part of Rock-Folk tradition to avoid using currency as it all in one way or another comes from rock). Tolan agrees and leaves when a group of men enter seeking the blacksmith so that he doesnt get in the way of Relek's business. He carries the sword wrapped in a blanket on his back.
Right, now you know what ive caused you to miss, for now, so lets continue
Part 6 - The First Page
The cold evening air bit at Tolan after the snug warmth of the Blacksmith's. He pulled his cloak around him, but it bunched under the weight of the sword and would not fully cover his chest. A cloud of steam passed his lips as he sighed in frustration, he was going to have to try and make it to the inn holding his horse quickly otherwise he risked catching a chill, a chill that would only be exacerbated by the week long ride to the Abbey. Tolan started off at a brisk walk putting extra weight down into each step in an effort to keep his blood pumping warmth through him. Small towns like this one rarely stayed active once evening set in, and all around people were making their way off the streets or closing shops. The cold had helped to snap Tolan awake after the cosy comfort of Relek's and now he drank in the small amounts of bustling activity as he breezed through the streets. A faint smell tickled Tolan's nostrils and suddenly he was aware of just how hungry he was. He had eaten only a small amount of travel food on the way to the town and since then had been seeking out Relek who had only been able to supply him with mead rather than anything substantial. A short way up the road that Tolan was on, a small shop was still brightly lit, with a table outside cluttered with items and emanating from the main building was the strong smell of almost ready food. Tolan had better manners than to intrude on someones meal simply because he was hungry, but that didnt stop him from wanting to drink in the wonderful smell that awakened his senses. He drifted over to that side of the street as he approached and noticed something even more intoxicating to him that the smell of freshly cooked food. It was a bookshop. Tolan had spent his first few years in the Abbey hiding among the various rooms of the Abbey's library, often his bed would be found empty at night and the young boy would be sat next to a large window in the library reading by moonlight. His love for books had grown exponentially since then much to the joy of those who taught him, or at least helped him to teach himself.
Tolan approached the table slowly and drank in the rich assorment of books that covered it. Parchment was a valuable commodity and books were possesions to be prized by even the richest of men. Rather than taking the years needed to gain experience on the field of battle or on the streets of commerce, Tolan had taken on board the experiences of hundreds before him who had passed on the descriptions of their successes and failures in various volumes for all who were willing to learn. This is where he saw the true blessing of Parchment, in the sharing of knowledge. Many volumes existed on the strategies and tactics of war and combat, but as Tolan began to mature, it was the complex theological volumes that discussed the concepts of the Gods and it was one such book now which commanded his attention.
“The Exodus of Heaven” it was a study by the current Head of the Brishik faith, Elias. Tolans earliest memories were of the kindness he found at the hands of the teachers of the Brishik faith, and had been a loyal servant for the 15 years since. He had never met Elias or High-Servant Elias as was his formal title, but throughout his education he had been informed that some of the options before him were placed there at the request of the High-Servant for some unknown reason. Tolan never questioned the reasons for this directly, but instead worked beyond the very best of his abilities, so not to disappoint so holy a figure. In his youth however, Tolan was prone to daydreaming about the reasons for this Holy guardian who watched over him, and this daydreaming led him to reading the many theological volumes written by Elias, and had found the man to be an astute minded individual who’s faith was not blind, but truly earned.
“The Exodus of Heaven” was the first book Tolan had ever read of Elias’ and one that Tolan had since been banned from reading because of the damage that excessive usage had done to it. Since the day that Brother Andreas had chased him from that section of the library Tolan had longed to own his own copy, but the code of the church forbade him from owning anything personal. Some people chose to circumvent this rule; like his childhood friend Quill, who had a lavishly decorated room at the Abbey, but Tolan was a good man, and one devoted to every avenue of his faith. He held the book in his hands a moment, feeling the leather binding which had fallen off the abbeys copy several reads ago. It was barely used. Sighing he placed it back on the table, but another book caught his eye. Bound in a tan leather and bearing no words on the front cover but instead, a large symbol which seemed oddly familiar to Tolan, but he could not place. He picked it up and turned it over. There were no words anywhere on the front, back or spine, and the leather seemed careworn, but in no way anything near what you would call damaged. Tolan slowly opened the first page which held only one sentence “Spy the man who attempts to become your shadow” Tolan was suddenly confused beyond any words, and he quickly turned to the next page. It was blank. Tolan quickly flicked through all the pages to find that they were all blank, save for the first. Tolan read it again, puzzled by what it could mean. “Spy the man who attempts to become your shadow”.
The sentence made no sense to Tolan, and his mind worked quickly to ascertain the logic behind what seemed to be...Tolan couldn’t quite put his finger on it until it clicked. It was a command. Tolan was compelled for some primitive reason to look back the way he had come and there he saw what the book wished him to. Halfway down the street behind him was a cloaked man stood at a silk stall looking in his direction. The man was of a far larger build than Tolan, muscled, cloaked and hiding what seemed to be a fairly large Axe. All that was visible outside the cloak was the mans head, shrouded in shadow and the arm which held the end of a sheet of silk in front of him which was roughly leathered in the style of most Mercenaries and Brigands from the highlands to the north. His tightly bound and heavily padded boots further betrayed his mountainous origins where men often hired themselves out to the small often snowed in villages suffering from Troll or Goblin problems. The man looking over at Tolan would not have been cause for alarm on its own, but the fact that the scruffy man was being shouted at by the small female vendor in front of him without even noticing was enough to raise Tolan’s suspicions.
Tolan closed the book firmly ready to begin trying to lose his tail, but as he went to place the book back on the table, he was compelled to open it once more. What would the book say now that he had done what it wanted? Slowly he opened it and read the finely inked words across the first page.
“This story is not to be taken lightly, nor should anyone who embarks upon it feel forced into service. Save for one. Tolan; son of the Brishik Faith, only you are forced to bare this story for you are its beginning; its opening chapter, and leaving so powerful a gift on an unknown table, in an unknown street will only cause the story to come to a premature and unwelcome conclusion.”
Comprehension escaped Tolan, and he decided that the safest thing to do rather than stand here trying to understand such a statement, would be to take the book back to the Abbey, there he could get help in making sense of it. He placed a single polished stone into the box at the end of the table and hastily pushed the book into his satchel alongside the brooch.
Tolan continued on his path down the street he was on, careful not to look back at the man he knew was following him. Measuring his steps mindfully he attempted to look casual, peering around at the street life around him as it slowed down to a trickle of people heading home for the evening. Ahead of Tolan about fifty foot, the street was suddenly plunged into darkness, either because of a lazy Lamp Watchman, or for some other more sinister reason. Given the circumstances, Tolan leaned towards the latter as the most likely explanation. A careful look down at his feet showed Tolan the looming shadow of his unknown tail, he was gaining, presumably to coincide with the area of darkness just ahead. Although gifted with sword skills more than sufficient to keep him alive, Tolan was not by any means a bulking, behemoth like the warriors to the far North. Their huge double headed War-Axes would be a struggle for Tolans lean figure to even get a handful of swings out of. This lack of bulk however gave him two advantages over most bog-standard warriors, it made finding his footing ten times easier, allowing him to open up his style to encompass a number of unorthodox or rare techniques, but it also made him fast, in combat, and more importantly, out.
It was this particular advantage that Tolan was going to need to make use of..not through the darkness, that would be suicide, an attacker would only need to hold their weapon out at shoulder height and wait for Tolan to decapitate himself, perhaps through the side alley just off to the left...Tolan’s astute mind quickly weighed up all the options. If he was seen to be deliberately avoiding the trap, an archer could just as easily pick him off. But if there was an archer, surely he’d already be dead, there was no-one around to witness an assassination except the man following him, and something told Tolan the huge man wouldn’t go running off crying for the Night Watchman. The alleyway was his only choice, and making no effort to hide his choice, he made a short sharp burst for it feet before the darkness. He heard the hurried, cumbersome steps behind him, and the familiar scrape of leather on steel as the man behind him unlimbered his huge Axe.
Sunday 8 March 2009
Part 5
Relek seemed to be looking past Tolan, to be lost in the scene of carnage at Calindrop. Almost as if he was wandering the horror looking for some glimpse into why, but the distance of his gaze showed that he'd already given up hope of finding a reason.
"That doesnt answer your question though does it Relek?" Relek snapped out of his examination and focused back on the young man infront of him, momentarily thrown off by what Tolan was saying.
"My question?"
"Yes, how did i come into the service of the church?" Tolan attempted to help the big blacksmith regain his composure
"indeed, indeed, how then my brave friend?"
"Necessity, not bravery Relek" Relek's face changed back to its familiar grin and he leaned over the table towards Tolan
"Necessity will make heroes of us all one day, for what is more necessary than a hero"
"That doesnt answer your question though does it Relek?" Relek snapped out of his examination and focused back on the young man infront of him, momentarily thrown off by what Tolan was saying.
"My question?"
"Yes, how did i come into the service of the church?" Tolan attempted to help the big blacksmith regain his composure
"indeed, indeed, how then my brave friend?"
"Necessity, not bravery Relek" Relek's face changed back to its familiar grin and he leaned over the table towards Tolan
"Necessity will make heroes of us all one day, for what is more necessary than a hero"
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