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| The Tale of a Northman; You met him in 4 session | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Mar 19 2009, 06:56 PM (167 Views) | |
| DMG | Mar 19 2009, 06:56 PM Post #1 |
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The air was crisp and cool, it was early spring in the Evendale. A slight breeze rustled the newly sprouted leaves, filling the small glade with a semblance of its former life. Mansliab’s glow cast a silvery hue over the entire glen. The moon was at its peak and full. A time of power, a time for dark rituals. Raising his weather worn face to the sky, Rufgar allowed the moon to bath him in its radiance. Sheathing a bone hilted long knife on his hip he bent forward to retrieve a small cloth and his waterskin. Poring a splash on his forearm he began wiping the blood away. Self inflicted cutting was a requirement for all devotees of the blood god. After completing this task he arose from the mossy ground picking up a fist size circle of Iron attached to a chain, the eight points jutting from the circle were the symbol of his Lord. After letting the massive talisman slap against his armored chest, Rufgar yanked his massive great sword from the earth and strapped it across his back. Looking down at his arm he began opening and closing one meaty fist, the ropes of muscle rolling under the skin forced the wounds to open again. A smile split his jet black beard as he thought of the great sacrifice occurring back in the camp. His little personal letting was not necessary on an eve like this, but something about the act brought a sense of peace to his tortured soul. The visions of rocky slopes covered in massive evergreens and reminiscent of salt spray on a his youthful face left him aching for home. He missed standing at the fore of a his massive dragon ship cutting through the frigid surf of the Bitter sea. Rokwald the Mighty was high fist to Warlord Vgori and sire to Rufgar, he commanded a hand full of dragon ships and two score longboats. Three hundred blooded warriors manned his mighty ship in those days. No more. Now he had the rank of a Fist, but his command was a mixed lot. Other clan’s members and weak blooded southerners made up his fist now. Small of stature were these southerners but resourceful and dangerous none the less. “ Come forth Baudin”, growled Rufgar as he lowered his face from the sky. His thoughts of the past scattering to the four winds. A darkly clad figure melded out of the darkness to his side. The lithe man moved into the glen and stopped an arm span from him. “I think we should return to the camp”, Baudins voice little more than a whisper. The scar on his throat most likely the source for his soft raspy voice. “Your hurry? I thought you didn’t care for the our rituals?” said the big man as he pulled his hair back into a tail. “I care not for your barbarities Rufgar, but the thought of leaving Vlad and Kane with this rabble for to long unsupervised unsettles me. You should have let me slit their throats long ago.” “Hmph,” he snorted, “mayhap your words are truth,” pondered Rufgar. The southerner turned and trotted off into the forest towards the base camp, his strides graceful and fluid. Grumbling under his breath the Northman followed suit. “ A hunting cat, that’s what he reminds me of, a damned hunting cat.” Baudins lope through the underbrush with barely a whisper elicited the comment and brought back memories of hunting the mighty spotted beasts. A quarter hour passed and the moon was no longer at its peak by the time the pair reached the first sentry. When Rufgar entered the camp Baudin was no longer in sight. He continued through the outer camp which consisted of southerners without a sideways glance. His path was clear into the Norscan camp, most giving him a wide berth. Moving towards the central fire his ears picked up a familiar nasely voice. “I say we leave now and hit one of those shires at dawn, eh, I’m tired of staying holed up in this infernal forest.” shouted the younger of the Bjorn brothers. Kane’s statement eliciting a chorus of shouts and pounding of fists to chests. “I say we burn the land until these weaklings come out from behind there walls. Come out and give us a fight” he continued. The shouting and fervor were building as Rufgar strode into the circle. It was evident this had been going on for some time and the blood sacrifices had only added fuel to the fire. “SILENCE!” Bellowed Rufgar. “ I’m sick of your belly achin Kane. This is the same old bickering I heard two nights past.” He stated flatly while squaring up with the smaller Northman. “The only thing we’re missing tonight is your brothers voice, you two always nagging together like a couple of old sea hag’s.” “Careful now pup. you walk a small rope Rufgar son of Rokwald.” Growled a giant of a man, as he pushed his way through the throng. “Be wary you do not rock the boat to much.” The man stepping into the ever widening circle stood fully a head above everyone around him. The leather pads on his shoulders having been cut open to allow his bulging neck muscles to fit through. Slung across his back was a mighty double headed axe whose head easily dwarfed a southerners torso. “I knew you couldn’t have been far Vlad, you are your brothers keeper” said Rufgar. Of the two, Kane was the more lethal, he was fully ten years Vlads junior and in his prime. Reputed to be one of the deadliest swords in all of the Skaeling clan. The years had begun to show on the eldest Bjorn. His beard turning grey and his tree trunk arms, once heavily corded with muscle were now hanging with fat. There was no doubt in Rufgars mind that Vlad was still one of the strongest men in his camp and the crisscrossing of scars on his face and arms told of his vast experience, but the speed and cunning of the younger worried him. “I told you both, no raids. She said no raids out of the forest yet! Ill hear no more talk of it.” the last coming out as a low challenging growl. Rufgar turned to eye Kane. “You think you can hide behind her any longer, she ain’t here and her favor don’t mean a lick to us” Kane growled back. “ She don’t even serve the blood lord” he finished. “You dare to claim knowledge of Khorne, you inbred piece of pig dung” rasped Baudin as he slid into the circle. “Get your pet on a leash Rufgar before I whi…” Kanes threat was cut short by a glob of spit splattering over his cheek and eye. Both Rufgar and Vlad began backing away from the two would be combatants. Kane unsheathed his broad sword with his right hand and pulled a hand axe with his other. A quick flourish and a ghoulish grin were all the Northman afforded Baudin as he began to circle. His blackened hauberk of chain jangling about his body made the padding of the southerner seem woefully inadequate. “I’m going to hang your skull right hear little man” said Kane while indicating three bleached human skulls hanging from a chain around his waist. Drawing twin long knifes with the likeness of obsidian from behind his back, Baudin turned giving Kane a small profile. His lead hand pointed at the ground was holding the dagger reversed, blade running up his forearm. His right hand pulled back by his head, blade pointed at his opponent. Kane charged with a speed belying his large frame, thrusting with his sword and chopping over it with axe. Baudin pivoted his lead foot parrying the sword aside with his lead dagger and stepped left with his back leg, spinning him around Kane carrying him safely past the wicked axe. Before Kane’s charge carried the Northman away, an obsidian dagger slashed the back of his thigh eliciting a grunt. Baudin calmly took up his stance again. Moving forward with more caution this time Kane began twirling the two weapons in an out of one another in an intricate pattern. Each step with his wounded leg showing on his face. Baudin flipping his rear dagger into a reversed position and began mimicking the pattern for only a moments, before they clashed. The speed of the blades in their dance creating a continual blur. The cacophony of noise lasted but a hand full of seconds before the darkly clad southerner sprung backwards blades resting at his sides. A gasp and some gurgling sounds were all that could escape the lips of the Norscan, his mouthed moved but nothing could come out. A spurt of blood shoot down the front of his hauberk from the gash across his throat, his eyes wide with uncomprehending surprise locked with Baudins. Almost to ask, how? Then he crumpled to the ground. Complete and total silence ensued around the circle as the Northmans body began to twitch. The lithe man slowly crouched down next to his victim, as if to wipe the blood from his blades. “Finish this Rufgar” whispered Baudin. As Vlad began advancing upon the southerner growling and shaking, Baudin just continued to stare at the convulsing Northman lying next to him, not once looking up. "Old man” yelled Rufgar “mayhap your family should have sent there women to war, the men are useless.” With a roar Vlad launched himself at the smaller man, a crushing overhand right sent Rufgar staggering back in an attempt to keep his feet under him. Both men pulled there two handed weapons and began to circle. A viscous overhead chop from Vlad’s axe almost brought an end to the fight in the opening moments. Strikes were met with counter strikes and the massive weapons weaved a deadly dance for some time. The Older man's experience showed through, when Vlad jammed his knee into the younger warriors groin . Their weapons were locked together and when Rufgar stumbled back he was almost knocked unconscious by a blow to his head. The butt of the axe shattering his unprotected nose. For all of his skill and power the older fighter began to tire, his counterstrikes coming less and less. His defenses opening more and more until, with a flick of his wrist Rufgar was able to throw the axe out wide and ram his sword point home, into his opponents chest. A quick twist before pulling the blade free ensured a timely death, no last surprises. Or so he thought, defying death, Vlad lunged forward attempting to plunge his hunting knife into the young leaders belly. Rufgar dropped his sword and grabbed both of the old mans wrists with a vice like grip. Locking his arms in place he held the last of the Bjorn family until the life had left his eyes. ………………………………................................................. The day was beginning to warm into an almost uncomfortable temperature for Rufgar son of Rokwald. He had been patrolling the forest for hours now with a troop of men but still no sign of any pursuit. He had visited her cave last night and found his mistress in a foul mood, she had ordered him to send out all of his men south and west in sweeping patrols. Her mention of some one following her had set him on edge. Ever since Gath Wolfsbane had slain that holy warrior on the kingdom road Rufgar had felt a sense of unease. Now with her unrest to confirm his worries and Baudins disappearance he was in a black mood. A southerner, one of his scouts came trotting into view panting, “lord Rufgar there are mounted knights closing on us quickly.” “How many?” Rufgar asked. “I’ve only counted a handful” stated the rogue in between breaths. “A handful?” something did not seem right about this. “Kalkor” yelled Rufgar. The massive huntsman came running forward with his bow held in front of him and an arrow knocked. “Go back swiftly and inform the Beastmasters to come forth” Rufgar said. The Norscan hunter sprinted off into the forest with barely a sound, leaving Rufgar to ponder this dilemma. Picking out ten of his swiftest runners, Rufgar dispatched them to inform the other groups to link together. His enemy must be spreading themselves out in order to flank him. His thoughts bringing a smile to his lips. A score of men, five of which were his Norscan brethren, against a handful of knights. Rufgar liked those odds. “Blood and killing awaits us” yelled Rufgar as he loped forward. ………………………………................................................ Within minutes Rufgar rounded a tree to witness his men charging a troop of soldiers. A cursory glance showed one of the men, a small man fall off his horse unexplainably and one archer launching a stream of arrows at his men. His blood brother Svengar ended that by lopping off one of the bowman's arms with a mighty swipe of his sword. His assessment of the situation was cut short as a massive destrier began thundering his way. Rufgars great sword came up to waist height in preparation of chopping the giant steeds legs out from under it. The beasts rider was in no way dwarfed by his steed, as were most of these Bretonians. His closed faced helm making the whole charge bereft of emotion, almost dispassionate. This Rufgar could not understand, he wanted his enemies to see the fury of Khorne written on his face. The black and white pennant on the knights chest and shield proved him to be a holy warrior. Mid stride, of this cold charge the lance point dropped, and began racing towards Rufgar. he realized in a moment of absolute clarity that this was the end. A mighty roar left his lips as he charged and was cut short by the piercing edge of the lance. His throat torn open and flung onto his back Rufgar looked to the sky. The clouds parted, darkness and fire opened in their place. A faint smell of brimstone assaulted his senses, he knew he was going home at last. ………………………………............................ The obsidian blade slid through the jugular of the Norscan hunter as if heated and parting butter. Its blade absorbing the red sticky liquid, leaving the length completely dry. Baudins free hand covering Kalkors mouth as he eased his body to the ground. The large Norscan hunter was just about to pierce a massive secular knight in the back when Baudin arrived. The skirmish was at an end and although beat up and bloodied the group looked capable of continuing on. A war cleric, as was evident by a white cross over a red field, had apparently enchanted one of the massive winter wolfs and the other three looked to be mortally wounded. The giant secular knight wore a familiar herald although Baudin could not pin the memory down. It was an old family he new that much. Ah, and a bard ? Traveling with a church knight, priest and a in the middle of the Evendale. There is much more to this group then what meets the eye. Baudin studied every detail of the bards features searing them into his memory. “Well perhaps their priest can get past her wards” Baudin pondered. His thoughts returning to that very morning. After slaying her two massive woed covered guards, he had sensed and aura of magic in her cave. Unwilling to chance the unknown he drug off the bodies and retreated to catch up with Rufgar. The giant lad was surely fretting over his absence. Baudin had waited months to finally trail him to the cave, building up a trust, so as to be beyond suspicion. These Northman although not the brightest were a cunning and suspicious lot and he had need to be careful, making sure his infiltration was absolute before making a move. Returning from his thoughts Baudin watched from the shadows of an old willow tree as the troupe passed him by. His mind was made up, he would trail them and observe. If they were unsuccessful he would return to the church and request a high priest and more of his brethren. His cover was gone now, Rufgar was dead and the lad had been his protection. A new approach would be needed, but enough with planning. These men may very well solve his problem, his thoughts calming as he jogged off. Quietly paralleling the group. Edited by DMG, Mar 23 2009, 06:14 PM.
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| Gnomeo Knibbleschnitz | Mar 23 2009, 12:44 PM Post #2 |
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I thought I recognized the name 'Baudin.' I thought that was the name of someone I spoke with in Elroud, though I would expect him to recognize me having spoken with him one or two nights before. Unless I'm messing up the name. I don't have my notes on me. I was worried at first that he was another agency/foe for us. That would make getting to the Cathedral slightly... complicated. |
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| DMG | Mar 23 2009, 06:18 PM Post #3 |
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Thanks. It's not bad, but it has a tremendous amount of editing needed. Horrible sentence structure and I continually slip between past and present tense. I just did some quick editing, but have I do not have enough time to spend on this.Oh well, this is all for fun any who. Baudin is the name of one of the Roshann you heard about disappearing into the forest. Edited by DMG, Mar 23 2009, 06:20 PM.
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| Gnomeo Knibbleschnitz | Mar 23 2009, 10:52 PM Post #4 |
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I got it (disappearing agent). It'll be cool if we see him as a NPC sometime. I did notice the tense change once, but it could have passed for on purpose on my second read (first read I noticed it and scorned it, second read I decided to see if it was deliberate, and by the time I got through that section, I forgot to decide if it worked or not). |
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