Yew's Disgrace : Chapter 3
Sword in hand I could still feel the imprint of the blade on my hands. It seemed all too distant at this point. The outskirts of the forest of Yew have been rather quiet, I guess the liches are at bay with the victory over the brigand today.
It was such a slaughter the thought of it ran through his mind the innocence being slain. Granted the brigands were harsh people, people who took extreme measures to survive killing, and thieving, but this was the life I’ve known. This is my way of good.
Drifting into sleep he finally had silence. His dreams were haunting as he traveled through time in the physical world within his own mind he felt a never ending dismay. He found himself staring back into the eyes of all his brigands… looking into their souls seeing their dismay as armies of liches marched onward on them again. He tried running he couldn’t move as he laid their trapped and the liches marched forward he found his nerves increasingly panic and as the liches touched his body and he let out a cry of agony he passed from his rest into the real world.
Caked in sweat and screaming in the physical world he felt the presence of his sword giving in hand. Slowing his breathing down he realized he had just given his position away. He had to run just like he had before. The thought of running further from the woods taunted him but as he stood at the outskirts of the Yew use he gave it once last look and slowly started marching away. Sobbing he could feel with each passing step himself dying inside each further step robbing him of his sanity, his home, his life.
It was a far walk but he made it in a nights travel. As it was turning dawn the sky glazed over with clouds which the sun turned multiple colors of purple red and blue he fixated his gaze upon the first city he had ever been in.
They called this land “Skara Brae” it was rather elaborate… In the brigand camps most were satisfied with a simple wooden cottage however this… this was art. As the boat docked he took his first leap off the boat. Reaching into his pack he snared twenty-five gold pieces, “Here, thank you for the trip.”
He wondered around the city bumping into various people watching those of the inn take reservations it fascinated him the organization of such a place. He meandered to the tailor shops and questioned about the looms and other things such as sewing techniques.
As he walked into the smith shop he was immediately noticed and questioned by those there…”What of your sword?” and other such things of where it came from. He himself had no answers he didn’t know himself where it came from. His answer was his father had crafted it.
The smiths assured him that no man made this sword. This sword was crafted by something that was once human, once breathing.
“You cannot have this blade, this … this is the work of something beyond all of our years.” As he examined it he took noticed to the other niches and markings on the blade that were obviously marks of magic.
“You are indeed a lich slayer?” The smith gave a smirk, “either that or you killed the man who was.”
“I am the lich slayer, let all here know who I am because as long as I wield that blade they will hunt me. And as long as I am here it is your life on the line as well.” Taking his sword he gave a slight smirk. “Don’t worry, I have arrangements to make before that time.”
As nightfall came he crept around Skara brae knowing now who he was looking for. As he crept around trying to make as little noise as possible he saw his target. His target didn’t leave his site and didn’t know it was marked. As he followed he continued at the same slow pace timing it with accurate precision.
Grabbing the scoundrels arm and covering the targets mouth he slammed him against the side of a near by building.
“You owe me a favor, I saved you that night in the woods.”
“Blackheart?”
“Sssh, don’t speak of that name here if these people know anymore then I already told the smiths today I will be out of here quicker then the Liches could have ever accomplished. You told me your Guild would help me do whatever I needed… I need men as many as you can furnish me with.”
“And if I don’t?”
“The liches are marching here as we speak, don’t tempt me, and if you run not only will I find you… I will make the process of your dying even longer then it ever would have to be.” The brigand smile strew across his face. The man knew that smile, the smile of a true killer.
“Meet me here tomorrow night, and each night after with all the men you have gathered, I’ll tell you when there is enough.”
Sword in hand I could still feel the imprint of the blade on my hands. It seemed all too distant at this point. The outskirts of the forest of Yew have been rather quiet, I guess the liches are at bay with the victory over the brigand today.
It was such a slaughter the thought of it ran through his mind the innocence being slain. Granted the brigands were harsh people, people who took extreme measures to survive killing, and thieving, but this was the life I’ve known. This is my way of good.
Drifting into sleep he finally had silence. His dreams were haunting as he traveled through time in the physical world within his own mind he felt a never ending dismay. He found himself staring back into the eyes of all his brigands… looking into their souls seeing their dismay as armies of liches marched onward on them again. He tried running he couldn’t move as he laid their trapped and the liches marched forward he found his nerves increasingly panic and as the liches touched his body and he let out a cry of agony he passed from his rest into the real world.
Caked in sweat and screaming in the physical world he felt the presence of his sword giving in hand. Slowing his breathing down he realized he had just given his position away. He had to run just like he had before. The thought of running further from the woods taunted him but as he stood at the outskirts of the Yew use he gave it once last look and slowly started marching away. Sobbing he could feel with each passing step himself dying inside each further step robbing him of his sanity, his home, his life.
It was a far walk but he made it in a nights travel. As it was turning dawn the sky glazed over with clouds which the sun turned multiple colors of purple red and blue he fixated his gaze upon the first city he had ever been in.
They called this land “Skara Brae” it was rather elaborate… In the brigand camps most were satisfied with a simple wooden cottage however this… this was art. As the boat docked he took his first leap off the boat. Reaching into his pack he snared twenty-five gold pieces, “Here, thank you for the trip.”
He wondered around the city bumping into various people watching those of the inn take reservations it fascinated him the organization of such a place. He meandered to the tailor shops and questioned about the looms and other things such as sewing techniques.
As he walked into the smith shop he was immediately noticed and questioned by those there…”What of your sword?” and other such things of where it came from. He himself had no answers he didn’t know himself where it came from. His answer was his father had crafted it.
The smiths assured him that no man made this sword. This sword was crafted by something that was once human, once breathing.
“You cannot have this blade, this … this is the work of something beyond all of our years.” As he examined it he took noticed to the other niches and markings on the blade that were obviously marks of magic.
“You are indeed a lich slayer?” The smith gave a smirk, “either that or you killed the man who was.”
“I am the lich slayer, let all here know who I am because as long as I wield that blade they will hunt me. And as long as I am here it is your life on the line as well.” Taking his sword he gave a slight smirk. “Don’t worry, I have arrangements to make before that time.”
As nightfall came he crept around Skara brae knowing now who he was looking for. As he crept around trying to make as little noise as possible he saw his target. His target didn’t leave his site and didn’t know it was marked. As he followed he continued at the same slow pace timing it with accurate precision.
Grabbing the scoundrels arm and covering the targets mouth he slammed him against the side of a near by building.
“You owe me a favor, I saved you that night in the woods.”
“Blackheart?”
“Sssh, don’t speak of that name here if these people know anymore then I already told the smiths today I will be out of here quicker then the Liches could have ever accomplished. You told me your Guild would help me do whatever I needed… I need men as many as you can furnish me with.”
“And if I don’t?”
“The liches are marching here as we speak, don’t tempt me, and if you run not only will I find you… I will make the process of your dying even longer then it ever would have to be.” The brigand smile strew across his face. The man knew that smile, the smile of a true killer.
“Meet me here tomorrow night, and each night after with all the men you have gathered, I’ll tell you when there is enough.”
Once again, another great part.....Keep it up.