Part 24 “Warrior” =Alexander=

Everything all together now? Potions to cure the blight, check. Blessed water to remove it from the crops, check. Scroll to give to our priest, check. Day's rations, check. Firewood, check, wouldn't need it if they would have just let me into the city to talk directly to the local healers, though.

Alright then, time to head out.

The route should be safer now that the local orcs have been cleared out. Still don't know if I want to camp a night alone, might just push on through dark until I get there. Not many people headed out this gate, and most of them that did looked like the sort that would head off west to Ambergorge. Hmm, he looks like he might not be in one of these caravans. He might be one of those treasure hunters, bright armor and a fine looking sword, and a pack that has to have at least a week of rations in it. Hopefully he's going up north to that ruin, then we could probably travel together at least until I get home.

“Hoy! You wouldn't be heading to or through Timberfell, would you? You, with the big sword!”

I start walking over to him as he turns to see who's shouting. Wow, that gear really puts mine to shame, probably worth more than I make in a year. The shield must be magic, now that I'm closer I can see it swirling like a dust devil. I wonder how much more of it is magic. He carries himself like a soldier. Sharp turn and a stern look. Hm, he's looks a bit older, perhaps he's a captain on leave.

“Why do you ask?”

A simple enough concern.

“Well, I've got to get this cart full of medicines and other similar supplies back to my hometown. Our town had a terrible blight on the crops that didn't show itself until we ate it, dunno how it missed me. Though I must say, I've never been sick a day in my life. Not like Michael, he probably hasn't gone a month without coming down with something, and...” I'm getting that look again, back on point it is. “I was wondering if you wouldn't mind traveling with me. There's no way I'm getting there before dark, and while the roads are safer now that some mercenaries took out the local orcs, well, I still don't think I'd like resting or walking the roads alone after sunset.”

There's another look I've gotten before, it says, 'Blast it, I don't actually want to be stuck with him, but there's really no good way to avoid it now.'

He steps away a little, and then looks me up and down… He is rather tall, now that I'm closer it decidedly gives an imposing quality to his posture. Can't be certain under all of that armor, but he must be built like an ox, muscle all the way through, could probably wrestle an ogre to the ground. The armor itself can't all be steel, unless that blue tint comes from some form of enchantment. His face is more than a little hardened, even more so than even most of the soldiers I've seen.

“Sure, but perhaps we should keep at least a little distance. I don't know if it's catching and I can't afford to get sick on the road alone. I guess I should probably wait until you distribute that medicine before heading through, anyway.”

“Ah, thank you, sir. By the way, my name is Alexander, yours?”

“Leo.” There was a pause there, though I don't think he's lying. Hm, perhaps he was thinking of lying.

“Well, Leo, shall we?”

I take hold of the cart and we embark, I had no idea it would be this heavy... Why did the beasts of burden have to catch ill too? Travel for a while is discomfortingly quiet.

“That's some nice gear you have there, really puts my hauberk and spear to shame. Is it magical?”

 

“Yes.”

“Must have cost more than this poor militiaman could ever hope to make. I must say, I don't think I've ever been this close to actual enchanted weaponry and armor being worn. Even the caravans that pass through occasionally barely ever have something so amazing. Hm, it all looks so pristine. Where did you get it?”

He points his thumb back down the road towards Henningway.

“You mean you had enough on you to buy all of it just recently? And all of it's magic?”

He nods affirmatively. “except the sword”

Quiet one...

“Is the sword not magic or is it -”

“Not from Henningway. Had it since I was a boy.”

“Family heirloom? Marton back in town has a beautiful shield that was passed down fro-”

“No.”

“Then how did y-” I know that look too... I don't want to finish that question, must be a touchy subject. “So you must make a lot of money, what do you do?”

“Mercenary.”

“Must be exciting, traveling from battle to battle, never knowing when you might breath your last... Actually, that part is probably not so exciting as the bards make it out to be.”

Silence... I should buy this man a few beers in Timberfell, after the medicine is distributed. I'll bet that that'll make him more talkative.

“Hm, so what do you do with it all? You can't just spend it all on newer better armor, can you?”

He taps the sword slung at his back, it shimmers ever so faintly at his touch.

“Wait, you don't mean you actua-”

“Yes, the company kept me fed, and armored. I made this sword better at every opportunity.”

“You mean, you spent all of your time fighting, to make money, to make your sword better, so you would be better at fighting... since you were a boy?”

I know that look, too. I don't think he ever realized that... Now he looks very deep in thought, I don't know if I want to interrupt now...

It's disturbingly quiet... I never thought I'd be thankful for squeaky wagon wheels. The almost methodical noise doesn't do much to ease the atmosphere, the sun casting longer shadows does even less. The rattle caused by the uneven dirt road interrupts it intermittently, as do the birds, and later, crickets.

“It's growing dark we should probably set up our camp now.”

He speaks!

“Sure, I'll start the fire. Would you like to take first watch?”

Part 23 “Girding the Stormguard”

There's not much to picking up the rations. My pack has a somewhat familiar weight to it, probably be even more familiar after I get the armor. Going to the various general goods stores and provisioners takes up the morning and noon is approaching.

The sounds of hammers on metal resonate down the street as I approach the building. After knocking on the door, and then again more heavily, Martin opens it.

“Ah, good day Leo, I'm dreadfully sorry but we're just finishing up. It should only be a little while, do you have anything else to do? I could find you when we're ready.”

“Actually, yes, I'll be at Dimner Glamerfont's goods. I have a few more things to buy.”

“Okay! I will find you there shortly.”

Martin hastily closes the door as I turn to head to the goods shop.

The smell has many different sources none of which I can identify, it's odd yet not unpleasant. The shelves are lined with bottles, jars, and small tubs of various ointments, potions, and powders. Alchemy equipment and small devices also fill a set of shelve along the wall.

Dimner is a gnome, and I almost miss seeing him mixing various... things... together with a mortar and pestle next to a large cauldron. His small stature lets his long beard sweep along the floor, and his face is wrinkled with age. He greets me cheerfully as I approach and even gives me a discount on various healing poultices. Dimner also advises me that, while they may be simply applied to a wound, they are far more effective when used with proper bandaging. Martin comes in just as I finish handing over the money for them.

“All ready, come on! I think you'll like this.” He practically pulls me away.

Dartac meets us at the door, “Now, I know you asked for grade two enchantment on this suit for the added protection without the added weight, but doing that properly takes time and when you came in asking me to hurry it up I decided to get creative.” He responds before the question even escapes my lips. “Now, don't worry, it'll still be the price we agreed upon, and it will still fit your needs.”

We enter one of the back rooms and fitted out on a stand is a full suit of articulated plate armor, some of the metal a soft blue.

“Mithril?”

“Only partially. Instead of enchanting it with plates of magical energy, I decided to make much of it from mithril. It'll give you the same maneuverability protection and weight as what I had planned before.”

“Isn't that more expensive though?”

“That's not for you to worry about. You are The Stormguard, who am I to slow you down? If you're in a hurry and you need protection I'm not going to be the one to make The Stormguard even one day late to the battle in any tale.” He smiles a little. “Oh, I think you'll like this part.” He pulls the kettle helm from the top of the stand and settles it on his head. It is not his size, but he straps it on. “Poke my nose.”

“What?”

“Poke my nose!”

I oblige. Before my finger passes the brim of the helm a soft blue glow shimmers around Dartac's head and stops my finger firmly. I press harder but my finger, the helm, and his head are unmoving.

“While the rest of it is grade one enchanted with mithril to supplement, the helm is grade two and then some. I worked on this myself while my best apprentices and associates forged the suit. It also,” he pokes his own nose, “doesn't block you or anything you are holding, so you can eat, drink, or wipe sweat from your brow without having to remove it.”

“Won't the shimmer be distracting in battle?”

“Of course you want something that you can see well in. The wearer doesn't even see the glow. Your vision won't be reduced at all. Go ahead, try it all on.”

As I don the armor the first thing I notice is the straps, they fasten themselves as I fit the plates into place. Second, I notice that the fit is amazing, after so long using the company's armor I'd begun to simply expect the small pokes and prods of plate not quite forged for you. The distribution is also spectacularly well done, and combined with the fact that much of it is mithril, it almost feels as though I'm just wearing heavy leathers.

“Light weight and easy to doff and don, for one expecting to travel alone, just as ordered. You said you were also interested in a shield.” He leads me into yet another back room one wall lined with various shields. “Feel them out and I'll tell you what they do if they're enchanted and what they cost.”

I feel that my funds are growing somewhat low already, perhaps I should settle for one that is mundane. After going through many one feels fairly good in my hand and settles well with the mace in the other. It's a wooden round shield with a center grip, Dwarven knotwork and runes are carven along the border, partly reminiscent of waves breaking. Dartac sees me handling this shield longer than other and chuckles a little.

“You like that one?”

“Yeah I think this one fit the best with the armor and mace, has the best balance.”

“Take it, on the house.” He smiles.

“Is something wrong with it?”

“I've been trying to sell that one for a while now, but everyone who's tried it and liked has decided against it after seeing what it does. You don't plan on painting it with some heraldry do you?”

“Not in particular. Why?”

“I have to take a swing at you to show you, mind blocking it?”

Nodding I raise the shield into a guarding stance as Dartac takes a smithing hammer from his belt. He takes a swing and the sound of rushing water emanates from the shield. Misty spray splashes from along the site of the impact. His arm is jerked slightly though he maintains his grip after the impact.

“It's enchanted with the aspect of a whirlpool, swirling and churning to take incoming swings and deflect them further around, twisting the offending tool and possibly disarming the unfortunate attacker. Honestly, I'm only able to keep hold of the hammer on impact because I've demonstrated enough to know what to expect. Additionally the fluid nature of it makes it reform from scratches, gouges and cracks very well. Surprisingly though, the inability to paint it has left most buyers looking for something else. If you want it, it's yours.” As I reach for my beltpouch he smiles again. “No really, on the house, it suits you. Who knows perhaps my name will work itself into the tales as well, the one who clad The Stormguard!”

The sun is still fairly high in the sky as I approach the north gate of the city. Someone calls out as I head toward the road.

“Hoy! You wouldn't be heading to or through Timberfell, would you? You, with the big sword!”

Part 22 "Free to Go"

The watchman examines the room, and grasps a pendant at his chest as he does so. The look on his face is one I've seen on town guards before, during battles or afterward. While they may have seen bodies or been in fights, seldom has a watchman seen more than one or two deaths at once or been in a fight that isn't one on one. Not quite the look a common person would have but not the expression of a hardened soldier. He says something under his breath before he addresses me.

“Put your weapon down and sit on the bed. Are you Leo?” He looks nervous. Rightly so, his bearing isn't that of a fighting man even, either a new recruit or simply a watch-man. If I was the culprit here he'd already be dead with the way he's carrying on. I comply with his request.

“Yes, they came in my sleep. One of them must've messed up because I woke up, and...” I motion indicating the room. Spotting a quarrel on the floor, I try to piece together at least some of what must have happened. “Careful near the window. I think their bowman might still be around.”

“Right.” He sidesteps over to the window and closes it from the side, then draws the curtain. He begins checking the bodies, tentatively.

“Should we be staying here, won't they come back with reinforcements?”

After a moment, almost long enough that I'm about to repeat the question more loudly, he responds. “Lieutenant Brickholt said you were a fighting man, but, wow. This was an assassination attempt, not a battle.” He pauses a second. “Well, actually I guess it was a battle, too. But, it wasn't supposed to be. Oh, they'll be pissed, and I'm sure that whoever fired this,” He take the quarrel and slips it into a metal tube that he withdraws from his belt, careful not to touch the tip at all. “Is long on his way back to tell the bosses that they botched it. They won't try again for a while. Might not be until tomorrow, though I'd suggest getting out of sight and out of mind by noon.” He takes a small leather purse from the headless body. Opening it he pulls out some coins. “Here they are, twin headed coins. The brothers are mainly wanted for counterfeiting and they leave these on those they kill. Well, I think that's sufficient enough to call this one self defense for you. I've already signaled for a runner, more watchmen will be here to investigate more thoroughly. But, you should be free to leave before dawn.”

I sit in silence as he continues. I've woken up blacked out... How does that even work? Even the state of the bodies belies a more severe level of violence than I am wont to use. It's... sloppy. There's no way I needed this much force to deal with men armed with knives. What happened to the head of the last of the bodies... It's not in here. Most of the blood is on me, so at least the innkeep isn't going to have to hard of a time cleaning up; probably will have a hard time renting out this room for a while, regardless.

More guardsmen come in, they search the room, and me with heavy scrutiny. The excuse of my memory of the fight being a little foggy due to being half-asleep cuts it though, and they let me leave after a short while of investigation and questioning.

Have to change out of this blood soaked attire before heading downstairs. On my way out I enter the common room. Danja is up and eating breakfast while the innkeep is serving food in between pacing nervously. She smirks after seeing my condition.

“Was it exciting?” She genuinely looks interested.

“No, it was the most boring skirmish in the history of combat.” She giggles at my response. The innkeep is less amused.

“You kill four men in my tavern, and you're cracking jokes? How am I supposed to rent out that room now that such violence has occurred there?! For all I know it's going to be haunted!”

Danja gives him a somewhat sour look, “You could just tell any customers that it's the room where The Stormguard fended off the wicked Brothers of the Coin assassins.”

Blast it, I don't need this added to the stream of hyperbole being spread about in my name...

“I'm not going to lie to increase business.”

Actually I'm not planning on coming back here. It probably wouldn't hurt to at least give him something to work with.

“You wouldn't be.”

I leave the astonished looking tavern owner, and the amused looking bard. The sun is rising, and it's time for me to pick up my rations and armor.

Part 21 “Somnopathy”

This is a pretty rough spot. Now the enemy has the outer walls, and we have to hold the second gate. You see, this is exactly why you don't use a cheese portcullis, melts in the sun, and then the backup gets eaten away by rats. It looks like we can hold them here though. The war-priests are keeping us in good condition, and their blessings of strength are helping us hold the gate while our archers take out some of the mass of enemies. I can hear The Captain calling out targets for the archers and positions for the war-priests to attend to. Occasionally our resident mage unleashes a cascade of flames or a burst of lightning amongst the enemy wherever their men group tightly. We can hold them here.

The fighting continues. Something's different now, though. Why isn't The Captain calling out orders anymore? I didn't hear anyone cry out that he's been hit, and nobody is taking his place of command. Where did he go, what's going on? The archers while still firing are less focused on those mounting the outer walls and taking the gates at the sides. Blast it, if they get through there we'll have to guard the western and southern gates as well. The mage is probably growing weary, he's resorting to less powerful spells taking out smaller groups. He ought to be able to keep the spells coming regularly though, I've heard they aren't tiring to cast at all.

The rush of strength from the most recent of the war-priest's blessings fade. Another one isn't laid upon us though. Are they gone too? Perhaps they've moved to help defend the other gates. We're slowly getting pressed back though now.

Arrows stop raining from our side of the battlefield. Did someone get through are they on the wall? I can't hear any cries from above. Perhaps we're preparing to withdraw to the keep. The archers would have to get in first. We aren't holding this gate much longer, the men to my sides are getting tired as the injuries start to build up.

The small scale bursts of magic energy and frost cease. The men and I fall back to the keep's gate. I don't hear anyone else in there, though. Where did everyone go? I don't see any bodies on the walls. They didn't die up there. The enemy continues their press. Is it just our line left of the defense?

How long have I been fighting? I remember the line breaking, the men retreating into the keep. Disorder, a room, a doorway. Now I'm here, in a small room. A single doorway, men come in and fall to my blade. Archers fire, either missing or glancing off of my armor. Another one down, and another. Just me, my sword, my armor, shelves of tiny glass figurines, and a press of enemy infantry. I don't feel tired though, I feel as though I could keep this up all day. My sword disappears just as I'm about to parry a spear thrust.

I wake up in my tavern room. Covered in blood, corpses on the ground, and severed limbs scattered about. A city watchman breaks the door open.

Part 20 “Doing a Job” =Derreck=

Here I am again... I really never should have shown that trick crossbow shot in front of the Brothers. Ever since then they've had me sit on a roof near every one of their blasted hits. This wasn't ever supposed to be my job, it's cold, dangerous, tiring, and risky. 'Oh, hey guys, Derreck the lookout is great with a crossbow. Did you see him hit that bulls-eye from a hundred paces, with one hand? We should get him to run insurance on some of our hits.'

Look there goes a watchman on patrol, is that the same one? Is he only rounding this block? Hope he can't see me over here... Where are the Blades? Moe is almost always late but the other guy should be here by now. Wait, there they are, that's a good spot. The guard is around the corner now, he's on the wrong side of the inn and he's stopped there for a few minutes every round.

Haven't seen any movement since the mark went into his room, but I can't see the bed from here, I figure he's asleep. I give them the signal to go for it. I'll give this job that much, getting to use this night sight ring is pretty neat. Everything is all sharp looking, like all the shade in the world just decided to up and leave.

Loading a bolt into the my crossbow and aiming for the window, now, also hoping this job'll be boring. Wait, a third, and a fourth Blade? Didn't even know we had four blades on this job. Don't know the other guys, guess it's Eeney Meeney Miney and Moe then, huh? What did this mark do? Glad I'm not him. The Blades descend the wall on ropes from the rooftop, and Eeney makes quick work of the window's lock. Well, they're in. Three of them stand back and watch as Miney moves out of my view toward the bed, guess he is asleep. That's good. That means I, once again, won't actually have to do anything but be the lookout.

There's what must have been a flash of something, the whole room went a little blue there. Some sort of spell? Hard to tell with the night sight ring. There a buzzing and a scream. All of the Blades pull their knives, Eeney's doesn't even make it out of the sheath before a long blade sweeps from out near the bed, crackling with lightning, and takes off his arm.

The hell?

Meeney dodges toward the mark ducking under a swing, and out of my view. There's a clang and a knife spins past the window and bounces off the wall. That watchman heard those, he's heading into the inn now. Shit, come into view! I can't see him from here, I can't very well shoot this guy if you don't get him to come near the window.

Then Moe dashes for the window. I can't get a clear shot as the mark comes up behind him and, well, Moe's head made it out the window. Surprisingly little blood now that I think of it... He raises that huge sword almost casually. By the Three! He just looked right at me, how can he see me from there? He looks pissed. I shoot, the bolt bounces off his sword, damn that was a hasty shot, calm down, I can get another off before he's even out the door. The mark starts to move toward the door as I reload.

My string is cut and I'm pulled to the ground as someone presses a dagger, hey that's my dagger, to my neck.

“I give, I give. Don't kill me please.”

“I don't plan to, but I will if you don't feel like delivering this to your bosses. Tell them that if anyone's going to assassinate that one, it'll be me when I deem it necessary. I don't take kindly to others infringing on my marks.” His face is covered by a plain, round mask all I can see are his eyes, the hand not on my dagger proffers a playing card. It's a king of swords, and it's been stabbed through with a knife, right on the neck, on both sides. “Tell your bosses if they don't want these on their pillows they won't send anyone else after this one.”

“Y-yes, let me go.” He lets go of the dagger, grabs a pendant he's wearing, and disappears. I pick up the card and my dagger. I run.

Part 19 “Establishing Intent”

I take a drink as she offers the platter of bread and cheese, the beer that was set out is better than the stuff being served at the counter. The bread and cheese only compliment it. I need to calm down, I can't see what she is trying to get at. She looks pleased about something, though. Does she expect me to just start telling her of every retreat now that she'd pulled that out of me?

“Why?”

“Hm?”

“Why bother talking to me about this? I was thinking that you were pulling me along to tell you more, give you something to work with, tell you some stories that you could blow out of proportion. But you haven't asked me to tell you anything. Clearly you already know what you need to, so why?”

“Fine, I'll give you a little to ease your mind,” she coos in sympathy and purses her lips, “There's something that makes a good bard a great bard, and that would be knowing people. There's a big difference between knowing about someone and knowing someone. Our little exchange is letting me get to know you. That's really all I have to tell you on the matter, I can't let you in on all the bardic secrets, now.” Her stress on the word 'know' and her smirk at the end...

“There are about to be a lot more stories about me circulating around, aren't there?” I should probably get going, I don't need her getting more out of me than she already has, whatever that might be. I begin to stand.

“It depends, you are very interesting, but there are also others. Knowing what to put into verse is the other part of being a bard, and I still have a lot to sort through when it comes to you. It'll be fun to find out where you go from here,” she stands almost in synch with me, “While it isn't my place to interfere much in your story, I will leave you with a few words of advice. Take care of yourself, you aren't in The Emerald Dragons right now, you don't have a medic around to patch up your scratches, you do get scratches now and again, right? I would suggest Dimner Glamerfont's Goods, right across the way from Dartac's, he sells some fairly potent healing poultices at a fair price. Wouldn't want your story cut short by an infected scratch in the woods, now, that wouldn't be very heroic at all... Well now, I will bid you good night.” She leaves the back room, patting my shoulder as she passes. I decide to sit again and have a bit more to drink before following.

The house is full tonight, the innkeep doesn't have a spare room without windows. Some merchants from the west paid extra for the ones he already had. Well I guess I'll be staying vigilant, tonight.

He asks for that story again, but I really have nothing to follow that up with. He understands, and Donja is starting up a song of the ancient Bijaucian Empire as I leave the counter.

I lock the window and sit down holding my sword, whetting the blade to stave off sleep. My body has other plans...