Sworded Tales

After the female on a buckskin horse arrives, a large shadow detaches itself from a rock not far away with a slight clink of metal.  The shadowy figure is covered in a body length cloak so near the color of the horse being ridden that their shapes merge eerily.  Pulling his hood back as he nears, a broad shouldered man materializes with raven black hair and skin the color of cinnamon.

The sharp gaze lingers on the group, granting a slight nod to the lizardman as the distance between them closes.  His clear voice rings out, Good day, milady, and to one and all.  Borlak Dotkina of the Sunar Tribe at your service.  Now have we all arrived?” Continue reading

“Logistics aside,” Gerard replied with a delighted smile, “That would be an outstanding opportunity, Anibel.  If I can cut the time necessary to find the shredder, we’d be saving a lot of lives.”

The awkwardness of him wanting to save lives when he wasn’t able to save hers bubbled up between them.  They both attempted to talk and nervous laughter ricocheted between them.  After a few moments of silence, Anibel raised a hand and took the lead. Continue reading

At the approach of the priest upon foot and especially the mounted dancer, Kurn adjusts his position lest her mount misjudge its footing.  The campaigner steps with confident, measured steps until he is two paces aside and ahead of the noble matriarch and her mount, on the opposite side from the dwarf who may prove a danger to any near his horse as much himself.  He adjusts his position so as to stand with the matronly figure and primarily face the lizardman, priest and dancer.

Kurn nods not unkind greeting to the dancer’s introduction.  She was pleasant to look upon, but whatever brief flicker prompted his eye was subdued by the hardened impassiveness in his expression. Continue reading

The seer’s entire body tracked the course of her crystal ball as it swayed in rhythmic circles around the palm of her oppressor.  The casual indifference to the fate of the ball horrified the zaftig woman beyond reckoning.  Her fingers clawed into wishful lengths, willing her digits to cross the distance and retrieve the heirloom.  She could not beg.  Such groveling would only spur the vindictive man on further.  She had witnessed the escalation of tyranny amply to have learned its finer nuances.

“Sire,” the seer said, dizzy gaze circling, “I would be unable to offer further insight should the crystal be broken.”

“I know that, wretch,” he snarled, allowing the ball to drop from one hand to the other, where he caught it with ease and lifted it up in defiance between them.  “But what good is it in truth?  When you babble such incoherence as to be indecipherable.  ‘Shadows in the orchard house.’  What by the sands is that?  There is no orchard within a hundred wheels.  We live — on the edge — of the desert!” Continue reading

“Refuse?!” Anibel scoffed back at the ornery Halfling, “Why in the heavens would you do such a thing?”

“Peace, Anibel,” Gerard replied, raising a staying hand toward her, “I’ll abide by your wishes.  I simply wanted to see the size of your investment.”  The angst on her features was prevalent, even in her translucent state.  “And I have noted that it is considerable.” Continue reading

With the arrival of the horses and riders, though he wonders if the wild one should be described as a being that happens to be on a horse rather than a rider, the scribe puts up his book and pen.  Closing the chest, he places the vessel on his back and picks up his shield, walking toward the group.

After looking at the lizardman, dwarf and human, he gives the matron a glance and a smile.  “On the eve of the Spring Equinox.  Not that you can tell,” he says by way of greeting, glancing skyward and pulling his hood over his head. Continue reading

“Not going to like it?” Gerard replied, “I’ve backtracked into forsaken terrain to track a mindless killer back to its lair in the hopes that it does not signify the dark tidings of invasion. In so doing, I must confront the fallen bodies of those I failed to guide safely as is my calling. I don’t think there’s much more you could add onto an already heaping pile of dislike.”

“You must leave me here,” the quiet words issued from her, “My remains, I mean.”

Gerard’s mouth opened to reply, and then closed. Then he said, “Oh. Well. Points to you then for being right.” Continue reading

The reptilian figure takes an involuntary step back as the horse rears out of control, then again as it begins to buck and whirl about.  The situation certainly does not present an immediate threat, but such a large beast moving about so erratically is hardly something to take lightly.

Then a realization dawns on him.  There is only one similar circumstance that he has seen such as this, and the connection is all too obvious to make.

“You have, I see, brought with you a performer of a circus?” he asks, though he keeps his wary attention on the spectacle. Continue reading

“Anibel,” Gerard echoed, rolling around events in his mind when a thought crystallized, “But that is still not your name.  Just what I may call you.”

Anibel flashed the ghostly wisp of a smile his way, “I knew I liked you for a reason.  Sharp as the wyvern’s claw you are.” Continue reading

A taciturn male Dwarf looks up with a start at the approach of the lone reptilioid.  Following his riding partner’s lead, the cloaked he tugs on the reigns, albeit a bit too fiercely.  The horse rears up on its hind legs as the Dwarf stifles a yelp, clinging to the reigns with all the strength in his stunted hands.  His stomach slides onto the saddle with his feet still in the stirrups, causing his buttocks to protrude perpendicular from the steed’s back in a most undignified position.

As gravity bears the Dwarf’s full weight down on the reigns, the horse rose ever higher, kicking its front hooves.  Ancient, inscrutable commands issue forth toward the animal, as the Dwarf flails his stirrupped feet.  The horse continues to canter backward on its hind legs, whinnying wildly. Continue reading