Shadow of Hope
A Shadow of Hope was a PBEM game I ran for several years with a host of different players and characters. I have always wanted to edit the shared content into a contiguous storyline and have decided to do so here. I look forward to revisiting the tale which was such a pleasure to tell, and am grateful beyond words to those who contributed their considerable time and creative muse to breathe life into the characters.
A Shadow of Hope
“Watch to yer port `dar, ya fool!”
The cry of alarm rings out across the swollen breadth of the Winding Water river, sending a sputtering flock of wings skyward from a grove of trees along the far shoreline. Muttering curses follow as the four polemen lean heavily on the weathered lengths of wood which serve to steer the sizable barge bearing them down the frigid runoff waters.
The barge rides dangerously low in the current, responding sluggishly to the efforts of the fur clad men. Seven tremendous blocks of quarried granite rest at the center of the float, restraining straps creaking against the sheer weight of the endeavor. The barge finally turns in a slow arc along the swift current, causing only a mild thump as the outermost log glances off of a sinister rock peeking a few inches above the surface. The camouflaged fang, seeking to sink any floating prey and spelling a frozen doom for those who ride above, waits once more as the current sharpens its edge.
Gliding around the final bend in the river, the barge comes into view of the great construction works that serves as destination. Scaffolding and ropes, ladders and plank walkways cover a sizable portion of a meaty bridge in an architectural webbing, and trails of smoke drift skyward against the incessant drizzling rain. For the better part of six months the construction crews have been repairing the damage done to the great bridge by the raging energies of war. The important thoroughfare had only recently been made passable to travelers, much to the chagrin of the ferrymen who had profited from countless transports.
The waters darken with tainted stink nearing the bridge, and each and every man working this site would choose to haul the great blocks of stone an extra hundred yards rather than risk the poison that flows in erratic eddies below.
The polemen show visible relief at reaching the muddied landing where they will offload their cargo. The risk of bringing along an extra hunk of block is readily accepted when it means an increase in pay and additional time off to spend with the whores and liquor of the working encampment. The transient settlement of merchants suffered some major setbacks by the great destruction visited upon the area, but the indelible will of greed has the modest tent and wagon village operating again before the cold winter will descend. The first few merchants and swindlers had opted to set up their makeshift shops on the western bank of the great river and most others had followed suit. The enclave of vagabonds consumes the west end, and the majority of the eastern shore near the bridge has been dedicated to the construction works.
Further up the northern stretch of the trade road out of sight of the haggard conglomeration at the bridge, a lone figure sits placidly astride a horse. Hooded against the wind and rain, several long strands of black hair blow loosely from within the depth of the cloak. The figure watches as two riders approach at a brisk canter. Their chestnut colored steeds heading southward toward the bridge are well lathered against the cold. The pair of riders, one skilled and one not, pass the location of the unseen watcher, hunkered into their traveling cloaks, with only the sloppy pounding of hooves between them.
The figure on the rise nudges the quiet palomino with booted heels and rides down to the road, following the pair with purposeful ease as the bridge draws near.