Post by Tormir on Jul 18, 2009 21:20:08 GMT -5
The fire crackled and danced merrily in the hearth and a pleasant smell filled the air of the small inn. It was small in relation to the city, but the inn itself was of a decent size. The night out was cool and when the south wind sprang up and frolicked about the city, it could border on cold. Out of the night came a lone, weary traveler. To call the man a traveler was actually a compliment. It was clear by the state of him that he was a wanderer, whether consumed by the wander lust or forced out of his home, one couldn't tell. He kept his eyes downcast as much as possible. Seeing the sign for The Hawk and Hound - the name of the inn - he made his way through the door, letting the smallest amount of the pleasant air escape into the chill night.
After ordering his dinner and a hot cup of mulled cider, he sat by the fire to listen to the bard's songs and hear tales of the other travelers. The night wore on and eventually the attention turned to him. After many an encouraging word, he sat down his cup, cleared his throat and threw back his hood. The look in the man's eyes was one of a hard life, one of land lost and honor sullied. His face, though surprisingly young, spoke of a deep hate. He began with the simple statement, "You may call me Tormir. I am a Harbinger of Fate, an agent of Death and a child of Chaos. Hearken, for my tale is not for the faint of heart."
"It began long ago, when I was naught but a boy. I was taken from my family. When I escaped from my captors, I wandered, lost and broken for nigh on a month. When I was found, I was very near death and required much healing. I could not pay for it of course, so I was taken on as a pupil. Raised by a Ranger, I was taken to the North when the time was right. The ranger who found me, an old man named Rorn, said that he could tell by my face that I belonged there. He took me, gave me a blade and a small purse of coins and bade me farewell. I wandered for a day and a night before I found the land known as Draugardor. Upon arriving, I was stricken by the illusion that I was a werebeast. I finally came to my senses and found the barbarian horde of one known as Lord Mordrau, a barbarian of great knowledge. He uses the civilized system of knights and titles, such as we do south of the Wall. He took me in and trained me. There was little in the ways of the blade that he had to offer, save some Eastern influence on style ideas. But in the end, I was betrayed. I was a knight of his court and I was betrayed. I retain my knighthood as it is a sanctioned one. But I have since turned my ways to a....darker persuasion. I took up with another tribe and have since moved on. I wander the land in hopes that I will one day find the Hordes of Draugardor that we may do battle. For when the time comes, I shall be ready. "
As he spoke these last words, he smiled. Then, he grabbed his cup and drained it. Screams split the night and the bells of the city began to ring. I have but this to add. "Once, a man saw Death in the marketplace. Fearing Death, he stole a horse and rode as swiftly as he could manage to the next town, never looking back. When he arrived, he rented a room in an inn and locked himself in. Turning about, he saw Death by the fireplace. 'You! How can it be' he screamed. 'I asked myself the same thing today when I saw you at the marketplace, for it is here I am to meet you', replied Death." Smiling wickedly at the frightened looks on the faces of the men and women about the fire, he leapt onto a table top. "We are but older children dear, who fret to find our bedtime near...." Whipping a large hand and a half sword from his back, he made short work of the partially drunk and extremely tired stupor the patrons were in. Even their apparent fear couldn't seem to save them. Roaring out a battle song, he smashed the door to the tavern into chunks and strode out of the now burning commons area and into the coming morning light. "WOLVERINES! To me, to me!" He pulled a horn from his belt and blew long, hard and clear. The deep bass note echoed around the screams of the dying. This was a city and it could not stand to the might of his warband. "RUS!!!!!!" He shouted their warcry and heard it repeated throughout the city. Donning his cloak and whispering to his dark gods, he traced a rune in the air and moved on, in search of the next town he was to come to.
After ordering his dinner and a hot cup of mulled cider, he sat by the fire to listen to the bard's songs and hear tales of the other travelers. The night wore on and eventually the attention turned to him. After many an encouraging word, he sat down his cup, cleared his throat and threw back his hood. The look in the man's eyes was one of a hard life, one of land lost and honor sullied. His face, though surprisingly young, spoke of a deep hate. He began with the simple statement, "You may call me Tormir. I am a Harbinger of Fate, an agent of Death and a child of Chaos. Hearken, for my tale is not for the faint of heart."
"It began long ago, when I was naught but a boy. I was taken from my family. When I escaped from my captors, I wandered, lost and broken for nigh on a month. When I was found, I was very near death and required much healing. I could not pay for it of course, so I was taken on as a pupil. Raised by a Ranger, I was taken to the North when the time was right. The ranger who found me, an old man named Rorn, said that he could tell by my face that I belonged there. He took me, gave me a blade and a small purse of coins and bade me farewell. I wandered for a day and a night before I found the land known as Draugardor. Upon arriving, I was stricken by the illusion that I was a werebeast. I finally came to my senses and found the barbarian horde of one known as Lord Mordrau, a barbarian of great knowledge. He uses the civilized system of knights and titles, such as we do south of the Wall. He took me in and trained me. There was little in the ways of the blade that he had to offer, save some Eastern influence on style ideas. But in the end, I was betrayed. I was a knight of his court and I was betrayed. I retain my knighthood as it is a sanctioned one. But I have since turned my ways to a....darker persuasion. I took up with another tribe and have since moved on. I wander the land in hopes that I will one day find the Hordes of Draugardor that we may do battle. For when the time comes, I shall be ready. "
As he spoke these last words, he smiled. Then, he grabbed his cup and drained it. Screams split the night and the bells of the city began to ring. I have but this to add. "Once, a man saw Death in the marketplace. Fearing Death, he stole a horse and rode as swiftly as he could manage to the next town, never looking back. When he arrived, he rented a room in an inn and locked himself in. Turning about, he saw Death by the fireplace. 'You! How can it be' he screamed. 'I asked myself the same thing today when I saw you at the marketplace, for it is here I am to meet you', replied Death." Smiling wickedly at the frightened looks on the faces of the men and women about the fire, he leapt onto a table top. "We are but older children dear, who fret to find our bedtime near...." Whipping a large hand and a half sword from his back, he made short work of the partially drunk and extremely tired stupor the patrons were in. Even their apparent fear couldn't seem to save them. Roaring out a battle song, he smashed the door to the tavern into chunks and strode out of the now burning commons area and into the coming morning light. "WOLVERINES! To me, to me!" He pulled a horn from his belt and blew long, hard and clear. The deep bass note echoed around the screams of the dying. This was a city and it could not stand to the might of his warband. "RUS!!!!!!" He shouted their warcry and heard it repeated throughout the city. Donning his cloak and whispering to his dark gods, he traced a rune in the air and moved on, in search of the next town he was to come to.