Last Night...
Aug. 15th, 2010 08:48 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
realsorienWe (me, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ataramos, mirrdae and zxizaraxii) had Papa Murphy's pizza for dinner, and a long rambling talk about gaming, Pathfinder and Dungeons & Dragons in specific. As is usual for me with such talk, I started coming up with character ideas. When I got to work, one of these had gotten pretty solid in my head, and bits of backstory started to develop. I decided to bang it in to the laptop, and by the end of the night I had 9 1/2 pages! This is the most I've free-written ever! With the game writeups I'm working from notes and in-game events; with this it was all straight out of my head with nothing from any game anywhere. I'm nowhere near done, and I may end up tearing it apart and completely rewriting it, but we'll see where it goes. Its just a Swords & Sorcery piece, but those are a lot of fun- who knows, maybe it'll be publishable if I can file off the few serial numbers that might be showing. ;)
Anyway, Here's what I've done so far. I DO want comments!
Harun stood, looking across a battlefield studded with the bloodied forms of ten thousand hardened reavers. Here, Graf Nine-Fingers and his forces met the screaming hordes of Kelik the Blooded, with nobody winning. As he panted, he saw what he was waiting for; a hunched creature lurched out of a gore-tainted ravine. The thing glanced about, then went quickly to the nearest corpse and tore in, shoveling bloody gobbets into its maw.
He watched this horrid feasting, then quietly circled. He’d learned that the things were quite focused on their meals. Finally behind the thing, he charged. It finally heard him, a whistling hiss passing between its hideous, shark-like teeth and he was on it. It was over in an instant, his massive axe splitting the rot-stained thing in twain... And broke as the bit hit the stony earth below it.
Harun stared a moment in shock; then shook himself. He’d been the last to survive the onslaught of these... Things when the original battle had ended. Kelik had lost his head to one of Graf’s guardsmen, and that had been that. Or so they thought. Kelik’s few surviving men were rounded up quickly; with their blood-mad master dead the fight went out of them. Details were assigned to burn the dead, and the cleansing of the battlefield began.
But things weren’t normal in this lonely canyon. The site had been picked by Graf as an ideal place to pin his enemy, but he’d ignored warnings from his shamans about the haunted nature of the place. Soon after the death-details were assigned, strangeness fell upon the battlefield. Strange mist began to play about the dead, oozing from the runneled channels of ancient waterflow.
Soon men were reporting that creatures accompanied the mist, hunched things that stank of rot and blood. This was quickly confirmed, and more so- hundreds of the things were swarming out, seeking dead flesh for their repast, as well as that of the living!
Graf had spat at the sight. “Ghouls. I shant ignore the shamans again. Form up! Even they can die!” And with that, battle raged once again in the night. Hours of this, and even the strongest were failing in their resolve; but what else to do but fight? In a choice between that and consumption by unclean, hellish devourers, no man would surrender.
Morning had granted a respite, but not for long. The assault continued only after a hour long break; and the things did not tire. In the end, that was what gave them their victory.
But the cost to them was as great as it was to Kelik before them- Only a few dozen still lived... If they lived. Of the proud warriors who’d fought, only Harun still lived. One by one he hunted the beasts, no sanity in his mind left after the sights he’d faced. This was the last. He shook his head, looking around him as if waking from a dream. The mist, so long a part of the field, was gone- as were all of his foes.
He shuddered, shaking his head more forcefully despite the tremors that now traveled through his form.
“I... Live.” Inconceivably true, this one fact held him standing.
“Does ANYONE live but me?” His shout echoed thuddingly across the stony stillness, not even ghosts giving answer.
Staggering from exhaustion and a thousand tiny wounds, Harun made his way to Graf’s tent. The master strategist still surveyed the battle, even if it was only his severed, partly-devoured head staring sightless across the distance. Despite his exhaustion, Harun knew he had to escape this horror; where monsters dwelt, could not more still remain?
Taking rations and water from whatever corpses bore what he needed, Harun made his way out of the defiled canyon and headed west. “At least a few miles,” he thought, “before I fall. Then I can rest.”
He finally dropped to his knees at the foot of a gnarled tree. Throwing himself prone, sleep called to him, but his mind would allow no rest. Groaning, he levered himself up and sat with his back to the trunk of the ancient tree. Looking back along his trail, he could see the mouth of the canyon yawning like the jaws of some colossal beast. Despite the death within, no carrion-crows or other scavengers seemed willing to seek out that hellish bounty.
While sleep was denied him, he did gather his wits and strength from the respite. Before night fell, he was once again heading west with a steadier gait than before. It was some days to the nearest settlement, he knew; and that was a human city. Despite this, he was bound for it as the only safe-haven he might be able to reach.
Nothing molested him in his journey. Indeed, the few times he saw anything it was just animals in the dense scrub growing along the road he now followed. Ahead, finally, he could see smoke rising and smelled the distant odor of cooking meat; he was almost safe.
A stout stone wall ringed the settlement, with men atop at watch. They seemed relaxed, obviously not expecting trouble. A grin faintly touched his swollen lips; Graf would have had them horsewhipped. The grin faded, his mind turning back to the battlefield with the thought of his former liege. He approached the open gates, stopping as he reached them.
A first try at calling to the guards failed; wracking coughs took his voice. A long draught of water aided this, and he tried again.
“Ho, the city!”
A guard, now alert, looked down upon him. “Who calls?”
“One who has seen war and horror. I ask leave to enter.”
The man on the wall stared at him for a moment, as if considering something. “Wait there, do not move.”
Harun held his position, knowing that there could be no benefit in threats- he was the supplicant here after all. A handful of minutes later the guard reappeared, this time in the gateway... And he had friends. “That one. Take him!” The men surged forward, giving the exhausted warrior no time at all to react. With a blow to his unarmored head, the fight was over before it truly had begun.
Magistrate Loren looked up at the guradsman in his chambers. “What now?”
The man snapped to attention. “Sir, we have taken a... Man that we believe is responsible for the murders.”
Loren raised an eyebrow as he stood. “Are you certain of this?”
“He was captured at the Eastern gate, covered in blood and wounds. One of our men on the wall, Rhind, was suspicious and had him taken into custody.”
“I didn’t ask that, did I? But that seems a suspicious enough matter for caution regardless. I assume he’s been taken to a cell?”
The guardsman shifted uncomfortably, as if realizing that the interview wasn’t going as expected. “Um... No.”
The magistrate glared. “No?”
“Rhind had him chained in the square.”
Loren loomed over the man, speaking very quietly. “Are you, and he, out of your minds? Fetch Captain Tyre to me. NOW.”
The guard scrambled, fumbling a salute and dashing from the room. Loren rubbed his head; Gods knew what had just fallen upon his back. He was in the midst of donning the tabard of his station when a knock came on the door.
“Enter.”
Captain Tyre entered the chambers. Standing an easy six feet, he matched Loren’s height but was much wider. Steel grey eyes flicked rapidly around the room, assessing and dismissing the possibility of threat. “You wanted me, Magistrate?”
“Nevermind the titles, Tyre. We have a problem.”
“Murders are your issue. Mine is the city defense. How does that make it ‘we’?
“When one of your idiot guardsmen assaulted a man and bound him in chains in the city square simply for approaching the gate.”
“... Goddamn. Yeah, that’d be a problem. Which one?”
“I was told it was a man named Rhind.”
“That piece of work. Right. So this wanderer is in the square? Lets go take a look.”
“I was planning on it. After you.”
The pair made their way down cold stone steps, the Magistrates office being in a corner tower of the main Keep. They walked in silence through the city streets, ignoring the noise and bustle of daily life. As expected, there was a crowd watching the occupant of the central platform. Four guards, one at each cardinal point stood about him.
“Damn,” Tyre muttered. “That is one big, ugly son of a bitch.”
Loren raised an eyebrow, but didn’t gainsay the Captain. Certainly the being wasn’t pretty, but all the blood and crusted wounds weren’t exactly enhancing his appearance. “I guess I can see how your man would have been suspicious.” The wind shifted, carrying the warrior’s scent to them, causing both to reel.
“Gods! He smells like a slaughterhouse!” Tyre winced, eyes tearing from the stench. “Where is Rhind? I want him here NOW!” One of the four guardsmen twitched, then stepped forward.
“Here, Sir!”
Tyre looked him up and down, moving around the man so that he was out of the smell, and Rhind still within. “What led you to believe this man was a murderer?”
Rhind blinked. “But... Well, LOOK at him, sir. He’s a monster, coated in blood!”
“So... This bloody apparition committed all those BLOODLESS killings?”
Rhind gulped and didn’t reply.
“You MIGHT want to answer.”
“I... He didn’t look right.”
“On that we can agree. Care to explain why this wasn’t brought to me, and why he was chained out here, against standing orders?”
Once again Rhind couldn’t answer.
“Goddamn it kid, you aren’t making this easy. You’re relieved. Suspended without pay. Report to the stockade on the wall. NOW.” Tyre turned to one of the other men. “YOU. Escort Rhind to the stockade and make DAMN sure he makes it inside. Got it?”
“Sir!”
As Rhind is disarmed and marched off, Tyre sighs. “I dunno, Loren. Some of these kids are good material, but some... Naught but cotton between the ears.”
“Lets talk to... Him. It. Whatever. We’ll move him to the jail and get him cleaned up after, if only to make it possible to be close to him.”
Eyes watering, the pair walked up the stairs to the platform and approached its lone occupant.
The man lying there was certainly big. If he were standing, the two men gawking at his prostrate form would be topped by a head in height; his gear save for a loincloth had been stripped from him, his olive skin crossed with innumerable small cuts. Larger wounds were roughly bandaged, and it was obvious that the dressings were badly in need of changing. Scarred hands gripped the chains even unconscious, and the deadliness of the man was without question. Loren covered his nose and mouth with a cloth before speaking.
“Wake him first or clean him first?”
Tyre signaled to some men. “Why not both at once?” At a gesture, the men dumped water on the bound figure, washing away some of the stench and bringing him around. The figure blinked into the light, shaking his head to clear his eyes. A moment later he realized his situation, and with a sullen expression turned to look at his captors.
“Why am I chained?”
Magistrate Loren stepped forward. “You were taken on suspicion of murder.”
Harun frowned deeper. “I have killed no one here.”
“That remains to be seen. Can you prove your innocence?”
Harun rumbles a laugh. “Innocent is the last thing I am, but I have killed none in this place, nor for at least ten miles in any direction you choose.” He shakes his head. “What is the name of this place? I only knew that a human settlement was here.”
It was Loren’s turn to frown. “You don’t know where you are?”
“I know where I am. I do not know what you call it.”
“This is Killyn’s Hold. Lord Kyllin rules here. I am Magistrate Loren, this is Captain Tyre. I enforce the city laws and investigate crimes, the Captain is responsible for defending us against invaders and other threats.”
Harun gives a small nod, accepting the information. “I am Harun. I was liegeman to Graf Ninefingers.”
Tyre looks Harun over. “Outcast, then?”
Harun tenses, both men stepping back when he does. “I am no outcast. Graf and his five thousand reavers are dead. Only I live.”
“Ah. A survivor of the losing side then.”
“No. We won.”
Loren steps forward before Tyre can speak again. “You said they were dead! How could you be the only survivor of a victorious force?”
“We defeated Kelik’s killers, and were the victors. It was what came after that killed them... You do not wish to know.”
“We need to know, if this could be a threat to the city.”
Harun nodded, knowing the truth of that. “There is no threat now. I will tell you, but I would like to be clean of this filth first.”
Loren nodded to the remaining guardsmen, who moved closer at his gesture. “Will you fight if we remove the chains?”
“I will not fight. My word on it.”
“Acceptable. Loose him and take him to the jailhouse. Fetch what he needs to clean up, then fetch a healer to tend his wounds. Understood?”
“Yessir!”
“Go. Harun, we will speak tomorrow. I will send scouts to follow your trail back. If they see anything untoward they will have orders to not approach. Will that be safe?”
“If they are not seen, yes. Tell them not to approach the battlefield in darkness.”
Loren nods, then turns to walk away with Tyre. Harun is urged by his guards after the chains are removed, and he is quickly led off to the jail.
“Tyre... What do you think?”
“I’ll be damned if he’s your mystery killer. But he’s a disturbing one. He does bear watching. His kind aren’t exactly gentle souls.”
Loren’s gaze fell back to the retreating forms of Harun and the guardsman. “I wonder what exactly happened to him...”
Harun and his escort soon reached the jailhouse. Within, the smell upon him grew stronger and the guards made haste to have hot water, soap and cloths brought for his use. Willingly entering the cell, he soon gets the horrid stench of rot off of his form. Underneath the filth however his many wounds are fully revealed, some once again bleeding, many hot with fever. Dressing in the provided breeches, he dabs at the worst of them with a dampened cloth until the healer arrives.
“I was told I had one in need of healing?”
One of the guardsmen nods. “Yes. The creature in the cell. He hasn’t shown himself to be hostile, but we’ll be here if needed.”
The healer, and older man, snorted his disdain at the younger man. “This is a hardened warrior. If he wished me dead I’d BE dead, you’d not be able to do a thing. Open the cell!”
The cell door is opened, and the healer enters. “What is your name? I am named Leik, and I offer healing.”
“Harun. I offer thanks for your service.”
The older man waves off the thanks. “It is what I do. I would heal you whether you were grateful or not. Do you fear magic?”
“No. My people have shamans who use magic. You are such?”
“Yes. You’ve been in battle, no more than a week back.” He gasps, the intake of breath running counter to his previous businesslike tone. “Are these... Bite marks?”
Harun shudders. “Yes. The things that bit are dead.”
Leik shakes himself free of his reaction. “Your wounds are fevered. I must lance and cleanse them before healing you.”
When Harun nods, the older man gets to work. Many pokes and small cuts later, he carefully wipes salve over the shallower wounds. “I will invoke now- this will close the worst, but the smallest you must heal yourself. The gods allow only so much.”
“I understand the gods. They are like my people- you must earn favor.”
Leik grins. “Somewhat similar, yes.” He lays hands upon Harun’s back, and closes his eyes. Soon a bluish glow rises, seemingly out of Harun’s own skin. Some of the wounds quickly close, the fever winking out of all. Leik removes his hands and sighs. “That is all that I can do.”
Harun stretches, joints popping as he does. “You have done more than enough, Elder. You honor me in your gifts.”
“Nonsense. It is what I do.” With that, he turns from the cell and leaves Harun to rest.
The next day dawned, finding Magistrate Loren at his desk in his chambers. Pulling a cord, he summoned a guard.
“Sir?”
“Find out the condition of the prisoner, then see if the scouts have returned and report to me.”
“Yessir.”
As the door shut, Loren turned to look out over the city. “Damned unusual situation,” he thought. “First the killings, now this bloodstained stranger. It could be coincidence, but I don’t want to believe that.” He leaned against the wall. “But then... Sometimes the Gods give us what is needed. Maybe...”
His musings continue, following him as he returns to his desk. The sun has moved but little further into the morning sky when a knock comes to his door. “Enter.”
A scout enters, accompanied by Captain Tyre. Neither look like they’ve gotten much sleep.
“You wanted a report, Loren? You got it... But its pretty bad.”
“In what way, Tyre?”
“Well, Harun, the big fella we have in the jail is fine, just thoroughly out cold. Leik said that aside from his wounds he was suffering from exposure and exhaustion. Sleep and reasonable provisions ought to fix him up. As to the other part... Fill him in, Mor.”
“I am scout Moreth, sir. I and scout Lin were sent out to investigate the story presented by the creature named Harun. We followed his trail; it wasn’t hard. We found the site of the battle at nightfall, and as we knew that the knowledge was necessary, rode in as close as we dared. It was a slaughter, sir.”
“Details, Moreth. Give me numbers if you can, and what was there.”
Moreth glances at Tyre, who nods. “Well, At a rough guess the total number of Harun’s kind there was at least eight thousand, likely more. But... They weren’t all. We found other corpses. While the other corpses were swarming with flies, these other things didn’t have a fly on any of them.”
“They were dead?”
“Yessir. All of them. The place... Gods, you don’t want to know the stench. The smaller things were hump-backed, had clawlike hands, dead-white eyes, no hair and teeth like triangular daggers. Many of the corpses had... Bites. Chunks taken from them. A few at the edges of the field had definitely been eaten.”
“Gods.”
“Do you need anything more, sir?”
“Did you see any signs that there were more of those things?”
“No sir. And believe me, if they wanted to eat dead men, they’d be able to smell it for miles. I’m a bit surprised we can’t smell it here.”
Loren nods, waving to dismiss the scout then stopping. “Wait. Where is your fellow scout?”
“Lin? The Captain sent him to clean up; he did the close-up inspection and was pretty rank when we got back.”
“Very good. Dismissed.”
As the scout left, Tyre leaned against Loren’s desk. “You said we have a problem. I think its bigger.”
“How so?”
“Well, first, these things were in the canyons to the east and we never knew about it. What else is there? And second, we just had what sounds like a major military engagement near us and again we didn’t hear a damned thing about it. I see this as a BIG problem.”
“More yours than mine.”
“Bullshit. We both defend the city when it comes down to it. We need better intelligence. Maybe we can get a bit more from this Harun fellow.”
“That I can agree with. And we should get an expedition to deal with the corpses; Gods know that strange carrion-eaters are the least of what such a pile might attract.”
“I really don’t wanna think about it, but yeah, we have to.”
ataramos, mirrdae and zxizaraxii) had Papa Murphy's pizza for dinner, and a long rambling talk about gaming, Pathfinder and Dungeons & Dragons in specific. As is usual for me with such talk, I started coming up with character ideas. When I got to work, one of these had gotten pretty solid in my head, and bits of backstory started to develop. I decided to bang it in to the laptop, and by the end of the night I had 9 1/2 pages! This is the most I've free-written ever! With the game writeups I'm working from notes and in-game events; with this it was all straight out of my head with nothing from any game anywhere. I'm nowhere near done, and I may end up tearing it apart and completely rewriting it, but we'll see where it goes. Its just a Swords & Sorcery piece, but those are a lot of fun- who knows, maybe it'll be publishable if I can file off the few serial numbers that might be showing. ;)Anyway, Here's what I've done so far. I DO want comments!
Harun stood, looking across a battlefield studded with the bloodied forms of ten thousand hardened reavers. Here, Graf Nine-Fingers and his forces met the screaming hordes of Kelik the Blooded, with nobody winning. As he panted, he saw what he was waiting for; a hunched creature lurched out of a gore-tainted ravine. The thing glanced about, then went quickly to the nearest corpse and tore in, shoveling bloody gobbets into its maw.
He watched this horrid feasting, then quietly circled. He’d learned that the things were quite focused on their meals. Finally behind the thing, he charged. It finally heard him, a whistling hiss passing between its hideous, shark-like teeth and he was on it. It was over in an instant, his massive axe splitting the rot-stained thing in twain... And broke as the bit hit the stony earth below it.
Harun stared a moment in shock; then shook himself. He’d been the last to survive the onslaught of these... Things when the original battle had ended. Kelik had lost his head to one of Graf’s guardsmen, and that had been that. Or so they thought. Kelik’s few surviving men were rounded up quickly; with their blood-mad master dead the fight went out of them. Details were assigned to burn the dead, and the cleansing of the battlefield began.
But things weren’t normal in this lonely canyon. The site had been picked by Graf as an ideal place to pin his enemy, but he’d ignored warnings from his shamans about the haunted nature of the place. Soon after the death-details were assigned, strangeness fell upon the battlefield. Strange mist began to play about the dead, oozing from the runneled channels of ancient waterflow.
Soon men were reporting that creatures accompanied the mist, hunched things that stank of rot and blood. This was quickly confirmed, and more so- hundreds of the things were swarming out, seeking dead flesh for their repast, as well as that of the living!
Graf had spat at the sight. “Ghouls. I shant ignore the shamans again. Form up! Even they can die!” And with that, battle raged once again in the night. Hours of this, and even the strongest were failing in their resolve; but what else to do but fight? In a choice between that and consumption by unclean, hellish devourers, no man would surrender.
Morning had granted a respite, but not for long. The assault continued only after a hour long break; and the things did not tire. In the end, that was what gave them their victory.
But the cost to them was as great as it was to Kelik before them- Only a few dozen still lived... If they lived. Of the proud warriors who’d fought, only Harun still lived. One by one he hunted the beasts, no sanity in his mind left after the sights he’d faced. This was the last. He shook his head, looking around him as if waking from a dream. The mist, so long a part of the field, was gone- as were all of his foes.
He shuddered, shaking his head more forcefully despite the tremors that now traveled through his form.
“I... Live.” Inconceivably true, this one fact held him standing.
“Does ANYONE live but me?” His shout echoed thuddingly across the stony stillness, not even ghosts giving answer.
Staggering from exhaustion and a thousand tiny wounds, Harun made his way to Graf’s tent. The master strategist still surveyed the battle, even if it was only his severed, partly-devoured head staring sightless across the distance. Despite his exhaustion, Harun knew he had to escape this horror; where monsters dwelt, could not more still remain?
Taking rations and water from whatever corpses bore what he needed, Harun made his way out of the defiled canyon and headed west. “At least a few miles,” he thought, “before I fall. Then I can rest.”
He finally dropped to his knees at the foot of a gnarled tree. Throwing himself prone, sleep called to him, but his mind would allow no rest. Groaning, he levered himself up and sat with his back to the trunk of the ancient tree. Looking back along his trail, he could see the mouth of the canyon yawning like the jaws of some colossal beast. Despite the death within, no carrion-crows or other scavengers seemed willing to seek out that hellish bounty.
While sleep was denied him, he did gather his wits and strength from the respite. Before night fell, he was once again heading west with a steadier gait than before. It was some days to the nearest settlement, he knew; and that was a human city. Despite this, he was bound for it as the only safe-haven he might be able to reach.
Nothing molested him in his journey. Indeed, the few times he saw anything it was just animals in the dense scrub growing along the road he now followed. Ahead, finally, he could see smoke rising and smelled the distant odor of cooking meat; he was almost safe.
A stout stone wall ringed the settlement, with men atop at watch. They seemed relaxed, obviously not expecting trouble. A grin faintly touched his swollen lips; Graf would have had them horsewhipped. The grin faded, his mind turning back to the battlefield with the thought of his former liege. He approached the open gates, stopping as he reached them.
A first try at calling to the guards failed; wracking coughs took his voice. A long draught of water aided this, and he tried again.
“Ho, the city!”
A guard, now alert, looked down upon him. “Who calls?”
“One who has seen war and horror. I ask leave to enter.”
The man on the wall stared at him for a moment, as if considering something. “Wait there, do not move.”
Harun held his position, knowing that there could be no benefit in threats- he was the supplicant here after all. A handful of minutes later the guard reappeared, this time in the gateway... And he had friends. “That one. Take him!” The men surged forward, giving the exhausted warrior no time at all to react. With a blow to his unarmored head, the fight was over before it truly had begun.
Magistrate Loren looked up at the guradsman in his chambers. “What now?”
The man snapped to attention. “Sir, we have taken a... Man that we believe is responsible for the murders.”
Loren raised an eyebrow as he stood. “Are you certain of this?”
“He was captured at the Eastern gate, covered in blood and wounds. One of our men on the wall, Rhind, was suspicious and had him taken into custody.”
“I didn’t ask that, did I? But that seems a suspicious enough matter for caution regardless. I assume he’s been taken to a cell?”
The guardsman shifted uncomfortably, as if realizing that the interview wasn’t going as expected. “Um... No.”
The magistrate glared. “No?”
“Rhind had him chained in the square.”
Loren loomed over the man, speaking very quietly. “Are you, and he, out of your minds? Fetch Captain Tyre to me. NOW.”
The guard scrambled, fumbling a salute and dashing from the room. Loren rubbed his head; Gods knew what had just fallen upon his back. He was in the midst of donning the tabard of his station when a knock came on the door.
“Enter.”
Captain Tyre entered the chambers. Standing an easy six feet, he matched Loren’s height but was much wider. Steel grey eyes flicked rapidly around the room, assessing and dismissing the possibility of threat. “You wanted me, Magistrate?”
“Nevermind the titles, Tyre. We have a problem.”
“Murders are your issue. Mine is the city defense. How does that make it ‘we’?
“When one of your idiot guardsmen assaulted a man and bound him in chains in the city square simply for approaching the gate.”
“... Goddamn. Yeah, that’d be a problem. Which one?”
“I was told it was a man named Rhind.”
“That piece of work. Right. So this wanderer is in the square? Lets go take a look.”
“I was planning on it. After you.”
The pair made their way down cold stone steps, the Magistrates office being in a corner tower of the main Keep. They walked in silence through the city streets, ignoring the noise and bustle of daily life. As expected, there was a crowd watching the occupant of the central platform. Four guards, one at each cardinal point stood about him.
“Damn,” Tyre muttered. “That is one big, ugly son of a bitch.”
Loren raised an eyebrow, but didn’t gainsay the Captain. Certainly the being wasn’t pretty, but all the blood and crusted wounds weren’t exactly enhancing his appearance. “I guess I can see how your man would have been suspicious.” The wind shifted, carrying the warrior’s scent to them, causing both to reel.
“Gods! He smells like a slaughterhouse!” Tyre winced, eyes tearing from the stench. “Where is Rhind? I want him here NOW!” One of the four guardsmen twitched, then stepped forward.
“Here, Sir!”
Tyre looked him up and down, moving around the man so that he was out of the smell, and Rhind still within. “What led you to believe this man was a murderer?”
Rhind blinked. “But... Well, LOOK at him, sir. He’s a monster, coated in blood!”
“So... This bloody apparition committed all those BLOODLESS killings?”
Rhind gulped and didn’t reply.
“You MIGHT want to answer.”
“I... He didn’t look right.”
“On that we can agree. Care to explain why this wasn’t brought to me, and why he was chained out here, against standing orders?”
Once again Rhind couldn’t answer.
“Goddamn it kid, you aren’t making this easy. You’re relieved. Suspended without pay. Report to the stockade on the wall. NOW.” Tyre turned to one of the other men. “YOU. Escort Rhind to the stockade and make DAMN sure he makes it inside. Got it?”
“Sir!”
As Rhind is disarmed and marched off, Tyre sighs. “I dunno, Loren. Some of these kids are good material, but some... Naught but cotton between the ears.”
“Lets talk to... Him. It. Whatever. We’ll move him to the jail and get him cleaned up after, if only to make it possible to be close to him.”
Eyes watering, the pair walked up the stairs to the platform and approached its lone occupant.
The man lying there was certainly big. If he were standing, the two men gawking at his prostrate form would be topped by a head in height; his gear save for a loincloth had been stripped from him, his olive skin crossed with innumerable small cuts. Larger wounds were roughly bandaged, and it was obvious that the dressings were badly in need of changing. Scarred hands gripped the chains even unconscious, and the deadliness of the man was without question. Loren covered his nose and mouth with a cloth before speaking.
“Wake him first or clean him first?”
Tyre signaled to some men. “Why not both at once?” At a gesture, the men dumped water on the bound figure, washing away some of the stench and bringing him around. The figure blinked into the light, shaking his head to clear his eyes. A moment later he realized his situation, and with a sullen expression turned to look at his captors.
“Why am I chained?”
Magistrate Loren stepped forward. “You were taken on suspicion of murder.”
Harun frowned deeper. “I have killed no one here.”
“That remains to be seen. Can you prove your innocence?”
Harun rumbles a laugh. “Innocent is the last thing I am, but I have killed none in this place, nor for at least ten miles in any direction you choose.” He shakes his head. “What is the name of this place? I only knew that a human settlement was here.”
It was Loren’s turn to frown. “You don’t know where you are?”
“I know where I am. I do not know what you call it.”
“This is Killyn’s Hold. Lord Kyllin rules here. I am Magistrate Loren, this is Captain Tyre. I enforce the city laws and investigate crimes, the Captain is responsible for defending us against invaders and other threats.”
Harun gives a small nod, accepting the information. “I am Harun. I was liegeman to Graf Ninefingers.”
Tyre looks Harun over. “Outcast, then?”
Harun tenses, both men stepping back when he does. “I am no outcast. Graf and his five thousand reavers are dead. Only I live.”
“Ah. A survivor of the losing side then.”
“No. We won.”
Loren steps forward before Tyre can speak again. “You said they were dead! How could you be the only survivor of a victorious force?”
“We defeated Kelik’s killers, and were the victors. It was what came after that killed them... You do not wish to know.”
“We need to know, if this could be a threat to the city.”
Harun nodded, knowing the truth of that. “There is no threat now. I will tell you, but I would like to be clean of this filth first.”
Loren nodded to the remaining guardsmen, who moved closer at his gesture. “Will you fight if we remove the chains?”
“I will not fight. My word on it.”
“Acceptable. Loose him and take him to the jailhouse. Fetch what he needs to clean up, then fetch a healer to tend his wounds. Understood?”
“Yessir!”
“Go. Harun, we will speak tomorrow. I will send scouts to follow your trail back. If they see anything untoward they will have orders to not approach. Will that be safe?”
“If they are not seen, yes. Tell them not to approach the battlefield in darkness.”
Loren nods, then turns to walk away with Tyre. Harun is urged by his guards after the chains are removed, and he is quickly led off to the jail.
“Tyre... What do you think?”
“I’ll be damned if he’s your mystery killer. But he’s a disturbing one. He does bear watching. His kind aren’t exactly gentle souls.”
Loren’s gaze fell back to the retreating forms of Harun and the guardsman. “I wonder what exactly happened to him...”
Harun and his escort soon reached the jailhouse. Within, the smell upon him grew stronger and the guards made haste to have hot water, soap and cloths brought for his use. Willingly entering the cell, he soon gets the horrid stench of rot off of his form. Underneath the filth however his many wounds are fully revealed, some once again bleeding, many hot with fever. Dressing in the provided breeches, he dabs at the worst of them with a dampened cloth until the healer arrives.
“I was told I had one in need of healing?”
One of the guardsmen nods. “Yes. The creature in the cell. He hasn’t shown himself to be hostile, but we’ll be here if needed.”
The healer, and older man, snorted his disdain at the younger man. “This is a hardened warrior. If he wished me dead I’d BE dead, you’d not be able to do a thing. Open the cell!”
The cell door is opened, and the healer enters. “What is your name? I am named Leik, and I offer healing.”
“Harun. I offer thanks for your service.”
The older man waves off the thanks. “It is what I do. I would heal you whether you were grateful or not. Do you fear magic?”
“No. My people have shamans who use magic. You are such?”
“Yes. You’ve been in battle, no more than a week back.” He gasps, the intake of breath running counter to his previous businesslike tone. “Are these... Bite marks?”
Harun shudders. “Yes. The things that bit are dead.”
Leik shakes himself free of his reaction. “Your wounds are fevered. I must lance and cleanse them before healing you.”
When Harun nods, the older man gets to work. Many pokes and small cuts later, he carefully wipes salve over the shallower wounds. “I will invoke now- this will close the worst, but the smallest you must heal yourself. The gods allow only so much.”
“I understand the gods. They are like my people- you must earn favor.”
Leik grins. “Somewhat similar, yes.” He lays hands upon Harun’s back, and closes his eyes. Soon a bluish glow rises, seemingly out of Harun’s own skin. Some of the wounds quickly close, the fever winking out of all. Leik removes his hands and sighs. “That is all that I can do.”
Harun stretches, joints popping as he does. “You have done more than enough, Elder. You honor me in your gifts.”
“Nonsense. It is what I do.” With that, he turns from the cell and leaves Harun to rest.
The next day dawned, finding Magistrate Loren at his desk in his chambers. Pulling a cord, he summoned a guard.
“Sir?”
“Find out the condition of the prisoner, then see if the scouts have returned and report to me.”
“Yessir.”
As the door shut, Loren turned to look out over the city. “Damned unusual situation,” he thought. “First the killings, now this bloodstained stranger. It could be coincidence, but I don’t want to believe that.” He leaned against the wall. “But then... Sometimes the Gods give us what is needed. Maybe...”
His musings continue, following him as he returns to his desk. The sun has moved but little further into the morning sky when a knock comes to his door. “Enter.”
A scout enters, accompanied by Captain Tyre. Neither look like they’ve gotten much sleep.
“You wanted a report, Loren? You got it... But its pretty bad.”
“In what way, Tyre?”
“Well, Harun, the big fella we have in the jail is fine, just thoroughly out cold. Leik said that aside from his wounds he was suffering from exposure and exhaustion. Sleep and reasonable provisions ought to fix him up. As to the other part... Fill him in, Mor.”
“I am scout Moreth, sir. I and scout Lin were sent out to investigate the story presented by the creature named Harun. We followed his trail; it wasn’t hard. We found the site of the battle at nightfall, and as we knew that the knowledge was necessary, rode in as close as we dared. It was a slaughter, sir.”
“Details, Moreth. Give me numbers if you can, and what was there.”
Moreth glances at Tyre, who nods. “Well, At a rough guess the total number of Harun’s kind there was at least eight thousand, likely more. But... They weren’t all. We found other corpses. While the other corpses were swarming with flies, these other things didn’t have a fly on any of them.”
“They were dead?”
“Yessir. All of them. The place... Gods, you don’t want to know the stench. The smaller things were hump-backed, had clawlike hands, dead-white eyes, no hair and teeth like triangular daggers. Many of the corpses had... Bites. Chunks taken from them. A few at the edges of the field had definitely been eaten.”
“Gods.”
“Do you need anything more, sir?”
“Did you see any signs that there were more of those things?”
“No sir. And believe me, if they wanted to eat dead men, they’d be able to smell it for miles. I’m a bit surprised we can’t smell it here.”
Loren nods, waving to dismiss the scout then stopping. “Wait. Where is your fellow scout?”
“Lin? The Captain sent him to clean up; he did the close-up inspection and was pretty rank when we got back.”
“Very good. Dismissed.”
As the scout left, Tyre leaned against Loren’s desk. “You said we have a problem. I think its bigger.”
“How so?”
“Well, first, these things were in the canyons to the east and we never knew about it. What else is there? And second, we just had what sounds like a major military engagement near us and again we didn’t hear a damned thing about it. I see this as a BIG problem.”
“More yours than mine.”
“Bullshit. We both defend the city when it comes down to it. We need better intelligence. Maybe we can get a bit more from this Harun fellow.”
“That I can agree with. And we should get an expedition to deal with the corpses; Gods know that strange carrion-eaters are the least of what such a pile might attract.”
“I really don’t wanna think about it, but yeah, we have to.”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-08-15 01:53 pm (UTC)I think...
Date: 2010-08-15 02:08 pm (UTC)I have noticed something I need to fix already- I switch tenses a few times, especially later in the writing. That'll happen in the second draft or when I add to it. :)