Greyblades

I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do with a web log... I suppose I might aswell put up something interesting.

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Adventurer

We started, as all tales do, as a group of strangers gathered around a tavern table mumbling and drinking our lives away, not suspecting the fable that would begin. It started as an idle comment, a small moan cursing the man who caused us grief, then another and another until every man there realised they were not alone in the world. Fuelled by drunken rage and youthful bravado the murmurs became comments. The comments; boasts. The boasts; curses. Until everyone was damning the name of the one who wronged us.

Lord Blackwood

The Black Scourge, the Dark Baron, the Devil’s Bastard and other curses did we pin to his name. The first of us stood, climbed the table and in the midst of drunken fury shouted to the heavens “This man must die!” and as one, we cheered, miserable and drunk beyond reason we made the pact that forever bound us to our fate.

We started out the day after in a depressed mood. Those of us eager with our plight could not forestall their impatience and us who regretted the liquor fuelled oath slowly resigned to their predicament. Too late to retrieve ill conceived promises we set out in our band all 10 of us out to kill a man who did us wrong.

The journey was long and arduous, crossing rivers and climbing mountains proved dangerous and our oldest perished fording a stream. Disheartened we gathered our resolve and pressed on to an aged forest. Inside we found many a fruit bush and ate our fill on blackberries. As we rested we talked of why we were here and what we will do when done. Alas it did not last the smell of food attracted a bear and before we could get our swords it had mauled another man. It took all our strength to fell the beast, but in vain, our companion succumbed to his wounds soon after, we marched on with our hearts sad and mood sombre.

Our quest carried on, soon we came to the Lord’s manor walls and we made our attack. With a great cry we charged the gate, come death or damnation we would not be stopped. The fighting began as the quest demanded with righteous fury, soldiers, blades ringing, and armour buckling as we went to our bloody business. We fought in the grounds; we fought in the halls, we fought like devils not caring for ourselves. The first of us went down, skewered by a spear; his grand oath made so long ago ensured he did not fall ‘til he killed 20 men. Though our leader was dead we carried on killing and dying until the sickly stench of blood filled the air as 4 of us joined the hundreds dead.

As the last guard joined his fellows us three remaining searched for the lord. His castle was a maze and many times we had to turn back until we emerged into a grand chamber. The only thing to see was a golden throne adorned with onyx and black opal stones. The gems shone with a sickly red light giving the seat an eerie outline stark against the dark room. And there he was, slouched into his seat, adorned in a green brocade of silks and cottons. His hair was black, his skin bronzed, his shoulders broad and his eyes, his eyes! The spectre of death seemed to pale in comparison to his dark pools of spoiled yellow and jet black, years of death and debauchery had not dulled the wistful hatred hidden behind them.

Frozen with fear we stared on as he rose from his seat and from his robes he drew a blade, as cold and jagged as his soul. We stood our ground, not by choice, the fear robbing us of all strength as we watched with icy terror the lord as he walked towards us. Frozen with fear I willed my arms to move and inch by inch they shifted until my blade was against my leg. With one final gasp of desperation I pushed and with the pain of the blade cutting my leg the fear was forgotten. With my new found mobility I charged, blade held high, ready to plunge into the bastards face and as the sparks flew as our blades met the spell was broken and with a cry my friends charged into the fray.

Blades ringing we laid into our foe, slashing and cutting at the man as he frantically deflected our attacks. Slowly but surely we started to tire and eventually his inhuman endurance outlasted ours. Bit by bit he started to strike back a cut here, a nick there, small wounds but more than we had been able to inflict in what felt like days of fighting. It went on and on as the cuts grew and soon I was dripping with blood and sweat, yet he was untouched.

I looked to my friends and they were in no better shape one had lost an eye and the other some teeth from a poorly placed elbow. As I looked into his bleeding face I saw what he intended to do, before I could act he ran recklessly towards the lord, and with a scream of pain ran right into his sword. Impaled and almost witless he grasped at Blackwood and screamed at us “Now, now before he kills me outright! Damn it man I’m as good as dead already, DO IT!” Seeing as what had to be done and that it was too late to change our minds the last of us lunged forwards and as Blackwood was desperately trying to release our man’s grip we stabbed through our friend and into the Lord’s chest. By the time we had untangled our friend he had already passed on but the lord was still clutching to life his ragged breathing barely noticeable. Standing over his prone form with his own wicked blade in my hand I thought of all the death that had befallen our band, of the men we killed and were killed by just to get to this man, and here he was, a pathetic wheezing form lying prone on the ground. I raised my hand, took one last look into the man’s eyes and drove the sword through his heart.