Post by That which dwells in shadows on Jun 28, 2007 2:43:54 GMT -5
I began my life in the streets of Berrith, a town where the temperature was always cold, and the food was always scarce. Many people lived in houses made of scrap metal, and loose planks of wood that drift ashore from the nearby sea, and those of us that are the most unfortunate, live on the streets, having to live with nothing but the few rags they choose to imagine are real blankets, relying on the generosity of others to survive, and in a city where no-one really has much anyway, there was not much of this around. I was one of those in the less fortunate category. I spent most of my childhood without any parents to take care of me, as they had died when I was at an early age, the cold finally defeating them. It was hard without them, but by some miracle I managed to live beyond the age of five, and even beyond the age of twelve, escaping only at the age of fifteen, still a young lad, my dreams of a better life still intact, though I can’t help but think, that if I had not left the town when I did, those dreams would have died, like the rest of me eventually did.
It had been an ordinary day, a combination of begging and thieving had taken place, resulting in the first full meal I had eaten in weeks. The meal was fit for a king, bread, milk, tomatoes and even, to my delight, a slice of cheese. Sure, the bread was stale, the milk had begun to sour, and the cheese was so strong that I almost threw up, but to me, it was possibly the best meal I had received in months. So there I was, eating my lunch on the side of the street, my torn, sagging hat beside me, when a man approached, catching my attention. Generally, I would not have given any passerby a second look, though this man was not any ordinary villager. All of the residents of the town wore either rags, or at least significantly dirty clothes, but this man was wearing a spotless black cloak (there were a few specks of dust, granted) and expensive looking leather boots, a pouch of what appeared to be gold coins on his belt. You would expect that a man like this was not a rarity in any town, but our town, being as poor as it was, hardly ever got any tourists, and the ones that came by were generally either drifters or merchants coming to sell their wears in our humble town. In all my years in Berrith, I had never seen a man even similar to him come close to our town.
I looked away from him for a moment, glancing down at my lunch. It would have to wait, I decided, returning the sandwich into the pocket of my fraying pants.
“Excuse me sir,” I said, approaching a nearby villager. “Who is that man?” I pointed towards the black cloaked man.
“That’d be one of them adventurers,” the villager said, after giving the man a long stare. “Probably heading towards that tournament being held over in Alavere…”
“A battle tournament?” I asked, my eyes lighting up with excitement. “Like, with people fighting with swords and all that?”
“Aye, something like that,” the man said, beginning to walk off, without his wallet however.
“Thanks,” I said after him, looking through his wallet, pleased to find a couple of bronze coins hidden away inside it. “A battle tournament hey? If only I could enter it...”
“A tournament ay?” The bandit lord said, his fingers automatically combing through his beard. “And you say there’s a prize of four hundred gold pieces?”
“Aye sir,” Dallas stated, his eyes alight with the fire of greed. “Think of all of the rum we could buy with that amount of money!” The bandit lord’s fist came down upon the table.
“An opportunity like this turns up, and all you can think about is getting drunk?!” The bandit lord yelled angrily. “Think about it, with that kind of money, we could equip our men with state of the art equipment, or better yet, actually get them some adequate training!” The scar across his face began to open up, his blood flowing out towards the floor. “Now look what you made me do!” He grabbed a cloth from his table, dabbing his wound with it. “Get the men ready to set out for Alavere. We’ve got some fightin’ to do…”
Dallas entered the bandit’s meeting tent, the parchment with details of the tournament still in his hand. The bandit meeting tent was quite similar to a tavern, a woman stood at a table, her tattooed arms grabbing at drinks for the bandits, lots of card games were in progress, the smell of smoke filled the air and what looked like a fight over the outcome of a dice game was beginning. The moment Dallas entered, all of the action came to a stop, except of course the fight between the dice players. All of the remaining bandits had become silent, and their gazes quickly alternated between the fighting bandits and Dallas, whose hands had now settled on his blunderbuss, pointing it towards one of the bandits, a man known of as Thyron, though within the gang, he was often called Shark, due to his skill at cards, and his lack of skill when it came to anything else. A loud banging sound filled the room, and the fight stopped, ending with a couple of blinks from Shark, before he realized he had been shot, and fell to the ground, dead.
“So as I was about to say…” Dallas said, demanding the attention of all of the bandits. “The boss says you get ready to head off, we’re entering a tournament in Alavere.”
“A tournament? I didn’t join this group to fight a bunch of sissies with swords!” Another bandit stated, his eyes suddenly fearful as he realized what he had done. The gun went off, he fell to the ground his hands halfway towards his head and the gunshot wound.
“Anyone else have anything to say?” He looked around the room, he was met with silence. “I didn’t think so. Get ready to leave, pack up the tents.” Dallas left the room, his blunderbuss re-holstered. The bandits were silent for a few moments, looking over at the two corpses.
“Well I think it’s a nice change…” A bandit named Darcy stated, all eyes turning towards him.
“Bloody suck-up…” Theon, one of the few skilled bandits said, walking over to the body of Shark. “Damn, he’s dead because of me… I’m the one who beat him at dice, after all.”
He turned Shark’s head over, looking his pallid corpse over. “Dammit!” He stood up.
“We need a new leader, those two will sacrifice us without thought, plus they keep all of the loot for themselves. One of these days, we’ll get rid of them, what do they do for us anyway?!” Theon said, addressing the bandits within the tent. “Who’s with me?”
A roar of approval filled the tent, further affirming the greatness of the idea in his mind.
“But not now, we wait till they’re off guard, perhaps while they’re sleeping…”
It had been a week since the man in black had been through our town, though the memory of his arrival still remained clear in my mind, despite the fact that he had not stayed in our town, instead proceeding to the next town in the direction of the tournament, a village known of as Lerringwood, its standards of living substantially better then Berrith’s. My life continued its normal flow, stealing and begging to get food and drink. It was nighttime when the first fire was lit, starting at the inn and spreading to the town hall and the houses. I awoke to the sound of gunshots and screaming, the small shack I had found abandoned and had used for shelter that night had already caught fire, a burning plank of wood landing beside me, jerking me awake instantly. I ran for the door, dodging past burning chunks of debris from the house on my way out. The town was a scene of horror; people ran in all directions, corpses lay alight on the ground, their bodies slowly charring and becoming ash, Small children standing without their parents, and worst of all, bandits riding around on horses, shooting at nearby strangers. A bullet flew straight past my head, colliding with the shoulder of a woman behind me. I dove at a nearby manhole, hoping to escape from the madness that was taking place within the village. I had pulled the lid off of the manhole when a bullet hit me in the shoulder. Thankfully, the bullet seemed to have only hit bone, but my shoulder hurt like hell. I dove down, before any more bullets could fly my way.
The sewers, though normally gloomy and silent, other then the slow dripping of sludge off of drainpipes, were fairly bright and full of noise, a gun-battle taking place before my very eyes. Two bandits were up against about eight other bandits and amazingly the smaller group appeared to be winning. Dozens of bullets whizzed both ways and slowly, the number of bandits was going down. From eight against two, to six against two, and finally down to two on two.
“You treat us like scum!” One of the bandits yelled to his opponent. “You kill us for doing just about anything! And you keep the loot for yourselves!” The guns were dropped, their users obviously out of ammo, and both teams ran at each-other, now wielding large sabers.
“You will learn your place Theon!” One of the bandits from the original group of two yelled out, his blade clashing up against the first speaker’s. “Perhaps in hell you will learn to respect your masters!”
“You, my master, Dallas?!” Theon yelled out, thrusting his blade towards the so-called Dallas. “You are nothing but a slave to Vinthir! He is your master, but he sure as hell ain’t mine!” A pained sound came from Theon’s only remaining accomplice’s throat, as Vinthir’s blade entered his chest. Theon glanced at his friend as he fell, and taking advantage of the opportunity, Dallas knocked his sword away and kicked him onto the ground, holding a blade to his throat.
“Finish him,” the bandit lord growled, looking at Theon’s disarmed figure without a trace of pity.
I looked the bandit lord over, my eyes taking in his facial characteristics. A wound was on his face, seeping out blood, the wound, I assumed had been made during the sword battle. A greasy black beard covered the man’s chin, looking almost as though it was about to drip its filth down onto the floor. I moved slightly, to get a better look at “Dallas”, accidentally knocking a stone with my foot and generating some very much unwanted noise. The two victorious bandits looked in my direction, sighting me immediately. Vinthir began to advance towards me, when a rumbling began to sound, the ceiling of the sewers shaking, and falling towards the group of bandits. They began to move, but it was too late, the ceiling collapsed, burying them in a shower of rocks. No part of them was visible, except for the upper half of the bandit known of as Theon.
I looked behind me, noticing and then advancing towards the ladder that led back out of the sewers. My foot had already landed on the first rung before I heard a voice coming from behind me.
“Hey kid…” The voice had said. I quickly recognized it as Theon’s voice. I turned to face the half exposed figure of the losing bandit. “Can you… Uh, get me out of this?” I looked up the ladder and freedom, and then back at the bandit. Damn moral obligations… I thought, hesitantly walking over to him and lifting up the rocks on top of him.
“Thanks kid…” Theon said, standing up and looking back at where he had been trapped. “Good thing Dallas was there to prevent any damage to my legs. That’s one good use for him I guess…” He turned to face me again. “What’s your name kid?”
“D-Dirk sir…” I said, my whole body quivering in fear. He gave a loud laugh.
“Like the kind of dagger? Amusing name for a thief-type like you, you know a lot of thieves use daggers in combat.” I looked of shock crossed my face. “Don’t be surprised, I can pick what kind of a person someone is with just a look.”
“No it’s not that…” I said, my mind suddenly urging me to make a run for the ladder. “Just that you’re so… casual, in this… time of crisis...”
“Crisis? What do you mean? I mean, sure, I had a fight, happens a lot. And how does that affect you anyway?” He asked, a look of confusion sweeping over his previously calm face.
“I mean, with the bandits torching the town and-” The ground began to rumble again, the rest of the ceiling collapsing, right on top of us. I fell to the ground, the pain in my head quickly leading to unconsciousness.
It had been an ordinary day, a combination of begging and thieving had taken place, resulting in the first full meal I had eaten in weeks. The meal was fit for a king, bread, milk, tomatoes and even, to my delight, a slice of cheese. Sure, the bread was stale, the milk had begun to sour, and the cheese was so strong that I almost threw up, but to me, it was possibly the best meal I had received in months. So there I was, eating my lunch on the side of the street, my torn, sagging hat beside me, when a man approached, catching my attention. Generally, I would not have given any passerby a second look, though this man was not any ordinary villager. All of the residents of the town wore either rags, or at least significantly dirty clothes, but this man was wearing a spotless black cloak (there were a few specks of dust, granted) and expensive looking leather boots, a pouch of what appeared to be gold coins on his belt. You would expect that a man like this was not a rarity in any town, but our town, being as poor as it was, hardly ever got any tourists, and the ones that came by were generally either drifters or merchants coming to sell their wears in our humble town. In all my years in Berrith, I had never seen a man even similar to him come close to our town.
I looked away from him for a moment, glancing down at my lunch. It would have to wait, I decided, returning the sandwich into the pocket of my fraying pants.
“Excuse me sir,” I said, approaching a nearby villager. “Who is that man?” I pointed towards the black cloaked man.
“That’d be one of them adventurers,” the villager said, after giving the man a long stare. “Probably heading towards that tournament being held over in Alavere…”
“A battle tournament?” I asked, my eyes lighting up with excitement. “Like, with people fighting with swords and all that?”
“Aye, something like that,” the man said, beginning to walk off, without his wallet however.
“Thanks,” I said after him, looking through his wallet, pleased to find a couple of bronze coins hidden away inside it. “A battle tournament hey? If only I could enter it...”
“A tournament ay?” The bandit lord said, his fingers automatically combing through his beard. “And you say there’s a prize of four hundred gold pieces?”
“Aye sir,” Dallas stated, his eyes alight with the fire of greed. “Think of all of the rum we could buy with that amount of money!” The bandit lord’s fist came down upon the table.
“An opportunity like this turns up, and all you can think about is getting drunk?!” The bandit lord yelled angrily. “Think about it, with that kind of money, we could equip our men with state of the art equipment, or better yet, actually get them some adequate training!” The scar across his face began to open up, his blood flowing out towards the floor. “Now look what you made me do!” He grabbed a cloth from his table, dabbing his wound with it. “Get the men ready to set out for Alavere. We’ve got some fightin’ to do…”
Dallas entered the bandit’s meeting tent, the parchment with details of the tournament still in his hand. The bandit meeting tent was quite similar to a tavern, a woman stood at a table, her tattooed arms grabbing at drinks for the bandits, lots of card games were in progress, the smell of smoke filled the air and what looked like a fight over the outcome of a dice game was beginning. The moment Dallas entered, all of the action came to a stop, except of course the fight between the dice players. All of the remaining bandits had become silent, and their gazes quickly alternated between the fighting bandits and Dallas, whose hands had now settled on his blunderbuss, pointing it towards one of the bandits, a man known of as Thyron, though within the gang, he was often called Shark, due to his skill at cards, and his lack of skill when it came to anything else. A loud banging sound filled the room, and the fight stopped, ending with a couple of blinks from Shark, before he realized he had been shot, and fell to the ground, dead.
“So as I was about to say…” Dallas said, demanding the attention of all of the bandits. “The boss says you get ready to head off, we’re entering a tournament in Alavere.”
“A tournament? I didn’t join this group to fight a bunch of sissies with swords!” Another bandit stated, his eyes suddenly fearful as he realized what he had done. The gun went off, he fell to the ground his hands halfway towards his head and the gunshot wound.
“Anyone else have anything to say?” He looked around the room, he was met with silence. “I didn’t think so. Get ready to leave, pack up the tents.” Dallas left the room, his blunderbuss re-holstered. The bandits were silent for a few moments, looking over at the two corpses.
“Well I think it’s a nice change…” A bandit named Darcy stated, all eyes turning towards him.
“Bloody suck-up…” Theon, one of the few skilled bandits said, walking over to the body of Shark. “Damn, he’s dead because of me… I’m the one who beat him at dice, after all.”
He turned Shark’s head over, looking his pallid corpse over. “Dammit!” He stood up.
“We need a new leader, those two will sacrifice us without thought, plus they keep all of the loot for themselves. One of these days, we’ll get rid of them, what do they do for us anyway?!” Theon said, addressing the bandits within the tent. “Who’s with me?”
A roar of approval filled the tent, further affirming the greatness of the idea in his mind.
“But not now, we wait till they’re off guard, perhaps while they’re sleeping…”
It had been a week since the man in black had been through our town, though the memory of his arrival still remained clear in my mind, despite the fact that he had not stayed in our town, instead proceeding to the next town in the direction of the tournament, a village known of as Lerringwood, its standards of living substantially better then Berrith’s. My life continued its normal flow, stealing and begging to get food and drink. It was nighttime when the first fire was lit, starting at the inn and spreading to the town hall and the houses. I awoke to the sound of gunshots and screaming, the small shack I had found abandoned and had used for shelter that night had already caught fire, a burning plank of wood landing beside me, jerking me awake instantly. I ran for the door, dodging past burning chunks of debris from the house on my way out. The town was a scene of horror; people ran in all directions, corpses lay alight on the ground, their bodies slowly charring and becoming ash, Small children standing without their parents, and worst of all, bandits riding around on horses, shooting at nearby strangers. A bullet flew straight past my head, colliding with the shoulder of a woman behind me. I dove at a nearby manhole, hoping to escape from the madness that was taking place within the village. I had pulled the lid off of the manhole when a bullet hit me in the shoulder. Thankfully, the bullet seemed to have only hit bone, but my shoulder hurt like hell. I dove down, before any more bullets could fly my way.
The sewers, though normally gloomy and silent, other then the slow dripping of sludge off of drainpipes, were fairly bright and full of noise, a gun-battle taking place before my very eyes. Two bandits were up against about eight other bandits and amazingly the smaller group appeared to be winning. Dozens of bullets whizzed both ways and slowly, the number of bandits was going down. From eight against two, to six against two, and finally down to two on two.
“You treat us like scum!” One of the bandits yelled to his opponent. “You kill us for doing just about anything! And you keep the loot for yourselves!” The guns were dropped, their users obviously out of ammo, and both teams ran at each-other, now wielding large sabers.
“You will learn your place Theon!” One of the bandits from the original group of two yelled out, his blade clashing up against the first speaker’s. “Perhaps in hell you will learn to respect your masters!”
“You, my master, Dallas?!” Theon yelled out, thrusting his blade towards the so-called Dallas. “You are nothing but a slave to Vinthir! He is your master, but he sure as hell ain’t mine!” A pained sound came from Theon’s only remaining accomplice’s throat, as Vinthir’s blade entered his chest. Theon glanced at his friend as he fell, and taking advantage of the opportunity, Dallas knocked his sword away and kicked him onto the ground, holding a blade to his throat.
“Finish him,” the bandit lord growled, looking at Theon’s disarmed figure without a trace of pity.
I looked the bandit lord over, my eyes taking in his facial characteristics. A wound was on his face, seeping out blood, the wound, I assumed had been made during the sword battle. A greasy black beard covered the man’s chin, looking almost as though it was about to drip its filth down onto the floor. I moved slightly, to get a better look at “Dallas”, accidentally knocking a stone with my foot and generating some very much unwanted noise. The two victorious bandits looked in my direction, sighting me immediately. Vinthir began to advance towards me, when a rumbling began to sound, the ceiling of the sewers shaking, and falling towards the group of bandits. They began to move, but it was too late, the ceiling collapsed, burying them in a shower of rocks. No part of them was visible, except for the upper half of the bandit known of as Theon.
I looked behind me, noticing and then advancing towards the ladder that led back out of the sewers. My foot had already landed on the first rung before I heard a voice coming from behind me.
“Hey kid…” The voice had said. I quickly recognized it as Theon’s voice. I turned to face the half exposed figure of the losing bandit. “Can you… Uh, get me out of this?” I looked up the ladder and freedom, and then back at the bandit. Damn moral obligations… I thought, hesitantly walking over to him and lifting up the rocks on top of him.
“Thanks kid…” Theon said, standing up and looking back at where he had been trapped. “Good thing Dallas was there to prevent any damage to my legs. That’s one good use for him I guess…” He turned to face me again. “What’s your name kid?”
“D-Dirk sir…” I said, my whole body quivering in fear. He gave a loud laugh.
“Like the kind of dagger? Amusing name for a thief-type like you, you know a lot of thieves use daggers in combat.” I looked of shock crossed my face. “Don’t be surprised, I can pick what kind of a person someone is with just a look.”
“No it’s not that…” I said, my mind suddenly urging me to make a run for the ladder. “Just that you’re so… casual, in this… time of crisis...”
“Crisis? What do you mean? I mean, sure, I had a fight, happens a lot. And how does that affect you anyway?” He asked, a look of confusion sweeping over his previously calm face.
“I mean, with the bandits torching the town and-” The ground began to rumble again, the rest of the ceiling collapsing, right on top of us. I fell to the ground, the pain in my head quickly leading to unconsciousness.
