Sworded Tales

The secluded deadfall was braced strategically upon a jutting mound of earth.  Hidden from direct sight but well within earshot of a typical approach, Gerard had set to working his exposed companion into a state of relative comfort.  The routine suited his state of mind.  He had on any number of occasions performed similar search and rescue operations for lost hunting groups or travelers within his assigned zones.  The rhythms of camping, of creating a hospitable environment to ward off the natural dangers, was a soothing ritual that he unconsciously embraced.

A small, warming fire saturated the enclosed hollow, and the Halfling had covered the well proportioned stranger with a host of boughs in addition to his bedroll and other fabrics he could spare.  Her color had begun to pink while he tended the thin stew which bubbled with hearty promise.  He would have liked some sage to compliment the flavors at hand.  That was the thought which crossed his mind before his charge regained consciousness and went berserk. Continue reading

Absent-mindedly — if presumptuously — overlooking the womenfolk, Rôhn appraised the group and rose to his full four feet, foam teacup in one hand, lit pipe full of earthy smelling leaf in the other, and regarded his audience pensively with his stone-gray eyes beneath a furrowed, bushy brow, as if composing a dirge of great import.

His wet riding cloak was now open at the neck clasp and draped over his broad, armored shoulders.  His hood was pulled back, revealing the pommel of a sword rising behind his back.  Droplets of evaporating rain trickled down his breastplate which glimmered in the dim light.  His helm was removed and lying alongside his warhammer and small round shield, which leaned against each other by his feet.  His features were ruddy, rounded and sun-baked.  His long, wild red mane was revealed, parted in the middle and intricately plaited with leather cords, as was the bushy mustache beneath his bulbous red nose and the thick beard that draped below his belt buckle.  The wide, black leather girdle it clasped was adorned with a panoply of tools that jingled in unison when he shifted self-consciously on his feet.  Graven runes adorned much of his gear and weaponry. Continue reading

“No, I suppose not,” Gerard muttered to the unconscious woman.  The ranger knew he needed to press on, that delay was dangerous if invasion was on the horizon.  He felt it pulsing in his heart with each gush of blood.  His mind wouldn’t let the enigma of this stranger go though.  She was a puzzle, and the clever Halfling had always been a keen puzzler.  More so if he weren’t able to solve them.

With a deep sigh, he made his choice.  He knew of a decent spot to attempt to provide some succor for this naked interloper, but it was in the opposite direction.  It was not far, true, but his grand-pap had a way of saying that it only took one foot headed down a path to change everything. Continue reading

Borlak was also happy to realize that he wouldn’t be sleeping here on the field. Weeks on a trail that grew ever-more mired as he moved south throughout the early spring, in the company of the caravan that had also delivered Cheskith, had spelled nothing but weariness at the prospect.

Borlak betrayed a twinkle of amusement in his eyes and a slight upturn of his mouth at the solemnity of the reptilian’s reply.  In his quiet manner of speaking, he said in turn, “I am of the Vari tribe of the Sunar people.”  He looked around at those present, his dark-eyed gaze coming to rest on Marcus.  “I am good with a sword, fair with a bow, and I believe that the affinity that my people hold for our horses is common knowledge.” Continue reading

Prophecy of Wild Rock Oracle

Book of hide unhidden unbidden
Path of bones not yet written
Rays of light herald the first
Untied unbound yet to be uncursed

Time of fire day of flame
Burning windows to layers of shame
Beyond the forgotten lies purity’s path
Under the fall of the corruptor’s wrath Continue reading

The figure was sizable.  Easily twice Gerard’s weight and more than likely approaching thrice that number.  The ranger continued to observe the figure with caution, the strangeness of the scene still reverberating within him.  His eyes picked out certain details despite the shadows.  She was female, and naked, and bald, and unless his perceptions deceived him, a fine hue of blue.

Gerard picked up a nearby piece of wood and tossed the thumb sized chunk at the interloper.  Continue reading

Pasts were not something Kurn wished to dwell on, nor were descriptions of deeds accomplished. Give him a task, and he would set to it. There was no firmer judge of a man than to observe him in such trials undertaken — he found it difficult to accept anything that was being said at more than face value and so paid it little heed. As to Erellia’s suggestion, he knew her ‘we’ did not include her, herself; there was little that already escaped her knowledge, so it seemed. Standing around making conversation wasn’t for him.

“Haron,” Kurn motioned the teen to join him as Kurn walked out from under the canopy and back into the rain. “We’re setting camp. Unburden the horses and canvas the gear.”

“Kurn, Haron, leave the horses as they are for now,” Erellia cut through the dampness with a firm tone of command, then her voice resumed its usual timbre, “If you would, please.” Continue reading

The mindless drum of his feet had almost put Gerard to sleep.  It had happened before, during his training.  He had witnessed it since, once of his own creation.  Crossing terrain that was at times vast with a pristine blandness could lull an unwary ranger into dangerous situations.  He had seen a comrade tumble right off a precipice.  Fortunately only frigid waters waited below, and no permanent harm was done.

The cracking and shredding of foliage lanced adrenalin into Gerard’s system, snapping him from the dreamy stupor his legs were enjoying.  He skidded to a halt and cursed his dullard wit for missing the motion that accompanied the ruckus which had erupted ahead on the trail.  His blood ran cold despite the vigorous exercise with the imagined predation of a shredder lurking not fifty footfalls off. Continue reading

The lizardman threw a quizzical-looking glance toward the dark robed man as the human retreated somewhat from the gathering, acting as though he was far more chill than the rain alone could account for.

Sure enough, the Silveraen was curious about the situation; the fourth person to break away from the “silent stare” approach to introductions, but he’d backed off rather than joining in. The reptile couldn’t help but wonder what thoughts haunted that one… but resigned himself to the fact that this wasn’t an opportune moment to inquire.

Resolving to investigate the matter later, he swiftly returned his attention to the three-way exchange.

Erellia moved quietly about the canopy attending to minor details within the shelter and the small brazier that now burned with a welcoming light, a silent hostess to this most unusual gathering.  Nodding or smiling in gentle greeting, she welcomed each individual into the makeshift shelter as they approached. For those that offered, she would provide some small menial task to perform that would help add a relative state of comfort to the encampment. Overall however, she projected a sensation of tremendous patience and calm reserve, a typical trait of the long lived. There was a sense that she observed the interactions of the group with an almost purposeful delay in taking control of the situation. Continue reading

Something in Merinde’s timbre dug into Seravis’ resolve.  His tongue darted out to caress his lips with fervent need.

The hush of the hundreds of patrons was adding to the unnerving element, but the young man held his ground, sitting back once more with arms folded across his chest.  He twirled fingers at Merinde, indicating that the move was still hers.

“I should say, the Last Dance has been the most interesting, without a doubt,” she said, eyes dropping to the board once more, “I’m sure you will find such truth to be evident in very short order.”

Merinde picked up her final catwalker and set it down within striking distance of Seravis’ archelemental.  Her hand then returned to rest with practiced ease over the ring of keys. Continue reading