Treachery of Men RPG

[Folwren]

Uldor sat with no attempt to hide his boredom and annoyance. He tapped the pommel of his saddle with his gloved fingers and peered about him with his lips pressed close together in a scowl. About him, the murmur of many voices rose and fell as people talked and gossiped the minutes away.

He was about to turn and make a remark to his brother sitting near him when his eye caught sight of a figure riding through the press of people. It was a mere boy, but he was looking straight at Uldor and riding in as straight a line as he could manage. The Ulfing sat up straighter, picked up the reins he had allowed to droop over his horse’s neck and waited with keen attention while the messenger drew nearer.

“My lord,” the boy said, dismounting as he drew near and bowing. “Lord Khandr has sent me to say to you that he is delayed by – by a personal matter that could not be put off. He bids that you go on ahead of him, and if he does not join you in the hunt, he will be at the festive meal he has planned.”

“Very well,” Uldor muttered, more to himself than to the boy. He hesitated not an instant to make up his mind. “We will go.” He looked at Ulfast and relayed the message in few words, and told him his decision to be off at once.

“Is it not strange, brother. . .” Ulfast began, but then trailed off and did not finish his thought.

“Eh, what?” Uldor asked, but upon receiving no immediate response, he shrugged it off. “Never mind, let’s be off before the morning is entirely wasted and all our preparation goes to naught.”

Word spread quickly through Uldor’s company of men. Girths were checked and tightened and then men remounted. Uldor took his spear in his hand again and spurred his horse forward. With a clatter of hooves and a cheering upon either side from the onlookers, the hunters were away.

[Nogrod]

I saw there wading through rivers wild
Treacherous men and murderers too,
And workers of ill with the wives of men;
There the vampire sucked the blood of the slain,
And the wolf tore men; would you know yet more?

It was Embla and something was wrong. Something really was wrong.

Embla wawered to and fro on her saddle staring straightforwards with empty eyes when Fastarr finally reached her and took the reins of her horse bringing them to a halt. Fastarr unmounted to grasp her thigh and arm to prevent her from falling.

“What is it, Embla? What is it?” there was a slight panic in Fastarr’s voice as Embla seemed to be somewhere beyond the here and now of the fields. She didn’t react.

“What was that? You saw something? You’re allright?” he shook Embla’s thigh and tried desperately to find any signs of sense in her. He shook her violently now with both hands. “Talk to me! Embla!”

Suddenly Embla came back to her senses troubled with what had just happened and confused about Fastarr holding her in his grip. She looked down at Fastarr trying to compose herself.

“Please help me down, I’m feeling quite shaky...”, she whispered taking hold of Fastarr’s shoulders still looking a bit dizzy. Then she fell forwards.

Fastarr carried her weight easily and slowly brought her down to the grass. They stood there a moment looking at each other. It felt awkwardly familiar to stand there: Fastarr’s arms were on Embla’s hips and her arms were on Fastarr’s shoulders. But even as there were so much that reminded Fastarr of their last encounter most everything had changed. Fastarr knew things had changed but Embla knew even more... and there were new tides they both were totally unaware of.

“What was that Embla? You really scared me with all those murderers, vampires and wolves... What happened to you?”

“I don’t know... I mean... I’m not even sure what I said or saw... It was terrifying”, she laid her head low and shivered with even the partial remembrance. She started shaking all over.

Fastarr grabbed her tighter into his arms and let her cry silently against his chest while he tenderly stroked her hair and back trying to sooth her as best he could. He was trying to breathe slowly and calmly to assure her that everything was all right.

But even if he managed to look and feel calm outside there was a thunder and a roar inside him. It felt to Fastarr it could explode at any moment.

There was the passion he hadn’t felt since the early and happy days of his marriage... the passion he had kind of forgotten to exist in him. And now it was there much stronger than the last time. But there was also this feeling of fragility and tenderness and a great sorrow which would keep them apart to the rest of the days. A love that would never fulfill, pure and clean from the passions of the flesh. Wasn’t that something to strive for? And wasn’t she something he should just adorn and keep at a distance in the first place? Wasn’t it not only his duty to his lord but also to her that he would treat her as a flower, a crown jewel not be be violated with rough hands or physical thoughts? Wasn’t he just thrown into this situation and he’d need to get out of it with honour.

But there was also all this talk about evil, all this talk of death and treachery... That old man had talked about it, Khandr had talked about it and now even Embla had talked about it... Were all the people going crazy? No. He felt the evil himself as well... or at least he thought he felt it... all that talk made him feel it... the Song, the fates of men, the prophecies, the vampires, the wolves... And where was Khandr he was supposed to protect or at least wittness how he met his end? Now why was he here and not beside his lord? He’d need to do the right thing... Fastarr felt her breasts under her robes against him as well as her hip pressing his groin.

“Lord Khandr set me free...”, Embla managed to mutter in the end her face still buried in his chest.

That awoke Fastarr from his thoughts. He pushed her gently a few inches away from him and waited until she lifted her eyes to meet his.

“You saw Khandr? When was that?” he asked her getting focused again.

“Just a moment ago. Why do you ask that?” Embla answered truthfully although Fastarr thought he noticed something like disappointment from her face as she heard his question.

“What else did he say? Where is he now?” Fastarr asked now more agitately.

It looked like Embla had to compose herself to answer the question. Finally she was ready.

“He talked about there being evil afoot... and that he would probably not be here to see how it all turns out... and he told me to find you if there is trouble”. Embla studied Fastarr’s expressions as she spoke and Fastarr actually felt he was in a cross-examination rather than just listening to what Khandr had said.

“Okay... I’m found now”, Fastarr said and withdrew his hands reluctantly from her hips. He was more than confused about all that was going on.

“Now tell me about the trouble and I’ll do whatever is in my powers”, Fastarr managed to say but it felt like half of the words got stuck to his throat.

[piosenniel]

At Dag’s house

‘Granny, come here won’t you,’ Káta said in a low voice, gesturing to the old woman to stand by her side. ‘And you, Jóra, just here before us.’ Fálki still stood by the wagon, a hesitant look on his face. His mother motioned him forward, placing him just behind her and Dulaan. ‘Let’s go, then, and mind that basket daughter mine.’

The occupants of the house could not help but hear the clip-clop of the horse, the crunch of the wheels against the graveled dirt path way leading up to their dwelling. Mem stilled the spindle against her hand, her ear cocked toward the entryway. ‘They’re at the door, Gunna. Who is it?’

Káta rapped firmly on the wood, twice, and was about to knock a third time when the door swung open, Gunna’s face changing from one of a questioning look to a smile of welcome. Jóra stepped forward, a smile on her face. ‘Here,’ she began, holding the basket toward Gunna. ‘This is for.....’ Her mother’s hands fixed firmly on the girl’s shoulders, drawing Jóra back toward her.

‘Greetings to you and your house, Gunna,’ Káta began, in a more formal manner than usual. She nodded toward the forge where Dag’s hammer rang loud in the distance. ‘There were obligations which could not be left unmet, else Grímr would have come with us today.’ She urged Jóra forward, directing her to place the basket in the doorway at Gunna’s feet. ‘Accept this gift of food from our family to yours, if you will.’ Without waiting for the other woman’s reply, she went on, motioning Fálki to stand between her and Dulaan. ‘And if you will again, my son would ask to be allowed to gift a small token of his regard for your dear sister, Mem.’

Dulaan nudged Fálki, pointing with her chin toward where the basket with jam sat, half in, half out of the entryway. He reached inside his vest, drawing forth the small square of folded material. Grasping it lightly in his fingers he unfolded it, draping it carefully over the basket’s handle. A softly woven, light blue scarf, it was.

‘This was my mother’s scarf,’ Káta explained. ‘Her mother wove it for her from their finest sheeps’ wool. She was the flower and delight of my father’s life. And he often said, when she wore it wrapped about her head, that surely some lovely being had stepped out of a Spring’s morning just for him.’

A brief breeze skirted about the little group’s feet and riffled at the edges of the offering, inviting an answer.....

[Lalaith]

So calm, so solid, so safe...Embla knew she had done the right thing, found the right person. Fastarr´s touch and presence did so much to soothe the storm in her mind. Even the warm smell of him, redolent of leather and stables, gave comfort which helped focus her own turbulent senses. What this all meant, for her and for him, she did not know or even want to think about, just yet. It was what she had said, and what she had seen in her mind´s eye, that she must make sense of, now.

"The wolves...." She sat down on the grass again, and Fastarr crouched beside her, his hand on her shoulder, heavy and reassuring. "Ulflings...." she looked at her companion with a growing comprehension that was if anything, more terrifying than her previous bewilderment. "Fastarr, I think....those wolves I saw were men... who will turn on their friends....the Ulflings will betray us all....and the vampire, too...I knew this creature, it felt familiar, and close...."
"Embla..." Fastarr sounded urgent. "Even without your visions, I knew there was evil afoot. I was hastening on my way to find my lord Khandr - danger stalks him. But nor can I find it in my heart to leave you, frightened and alone. Will you come with meback to my lord´s dwelling?"

Embla felt great relief. She knew she could depend on this man, not just for comfort but also for a plan of action. "Yes, I will come." No more words were needed. Fastarr helped her into her saddle, and they both spurred their horses towards the Borrim stronghold, as fast they could go.

[piosenniel]

The Right of First Kill


‘At last!’ Valr flicked the reins against his mount’s neck, pulling up beside his brother. He was eager to be off on this, his first great hunt. The skin on his arms twitched in anticipation, mirroring his horse’s own excitement.

‘Ssst!’ Falarr glanced quickly toward their father, then back at Valr. ‘Quiet, now. It would not do to criticize, or seem to criticize, the Lords. They do things in their own time.’ He reached a gloved hand toward Valr, clapping him on shoulder as much to ground his brother’s energy as to offer a sympathetic gesture.

Grímr motioned them up beside him. The host had remounted and as swiftly as Uldor urged his own mount ahead the others briskly followed. ‘Now remember, the Lords should blood their lances and blades first. If we see a boar, we’ll give a yell out to Uldor and drive it toward him.’

‘Just Uldor?’ Valr asked, wanting to fix this rule in his mind. His father’s words had carried a certainty about them; the accompanying look on his face emphasizing the importance of what he was saying.

This was not the first hunt Valr had been on, thought it was his first as a hunter. His part on those previous times out with his father and brothers and sometimes his father’s friends had been to scout the prey and with shouts and noisy wooden clappers to drive the game toward the hunters. ‘Tis the first step toward being a hunter,’ his brothers had told him, reciting by rote the instruction of their father. ‘Noting the habits of the animal you wish to bring down, thinking as it would think will help you first to find where it has been and where it’s gone and what it will do when found and cornered. So was I taught by my father and him his father before. And so will it be with my sons.’ They had grinned as they had spoken to him that first hunt when he was nine years old, their twinned voices sing-songing the words. ‘Enough!’ he recalled his father had chastened them. ‘Let’s hope he doesn’t send the quail all higgledy-piggledy as you did, Falarr!’ Valr had taken those words to heart, both the instruction and the gentle admonition.

The hunters fanned out as the chase progressed. Valr’s eyes scanned the area they were passing through, old habits kicking in as he did so. Were this my brothers and father, he thought, his eyes fixing on a scattering of oaks with their thickets of low growing bushes beneath, then I would head that way for sure. He turned his horse toward the trees; his eyes flicked toward Falarr as he rode off, grinning widely at his brother. ‘Come on!’ Valr urged him. ‘Here’s your chance to show me you aren’t the bumbler father made you out to be.’

The two made a wide berth to the right of the trees and undergrowth, darting round to come toward them from the side farthest from the other hunters. There were acorns scattered beneath the boughs in the small clearing, some trampled in the soft dirt, some only empty shells, and overlaying all was the sharp-hoofed patternings of animal hooves criss-crossing the ground.

‘Good eyes, little brother!’ came the hushed whispering of Falarr as they neared the area. ‘Let’s see if there’s one fine hog left hiding among the leaves.’ With a gleam in his eye, Valr nodded at his brother, and giving a quick kick to his mount’s flank he urged the horse forward at a measured pace.

There was a scuffling sound in the thicket followed by an increasingly angry squeal. From beneath the cover of the shrubs a swarthy, hefty figure shot out and away from the approaching men.

‘Father!’ Valr cried, seeing Grímr approaching riding toward them. ‘Head him off!!’ Grímr rode at the charging boar, turning him more toward the other hunters.

‘My Lord! My Lords!’ Valr shouted, waving his lance wildly in the air toward Uldor and his brothers who rode apace off. ‘A boar.....a boar for your lances!!’

[Child of the 7th Age]

Khandr bid his wife goodbye and immediately retreated to his study. A large chest was positioned along the side wall, one that held many of his personal belongings. He knelt down on the floor, raised the heavy lid, and reached inside, lifting out a smaller wooden box shut tight with a copper lock. Placing the box on the table, he removed the thong from around his neck and inserted the attached key into the lock. Once it was open, he began removing the contents of the box, setting some sheets of paper and assorted items to the side, until he finally came to the small journal that he was looking for.

Khandr drew out the small leather case and sat down to read the entries: information that had been passed to him by the other Borrim when he had asked them to make inquiries of various people. He finally found what he was looking for. He read and reread the passage and quickly reached a decision, scribbling an extra word or two onto the last entry. Then he went and retrieved two sharp daggers from the wall and thrust them inside his belt along with the small leather case. If I am going to meet my death, he grimly mused, I might as well do so in a useful way. He stalked out of the room and decided to cut through the large storeroom that led to a door used occasionally by tradesmen to deliver their wares. He would be less likely to run into anyone that way.

The storage room was half empty and in complete darkness as there were no windows or other openings that would let in the outside daylight. Cursing himself for being without a candle, Khandr fumbled his way to the other wall, when he heard a noise from behind. He was still a long ways from the door that led to the back courtyard. Whirling around and drawing out both daggers, he snarled, "Who goes there? Show your face."

[littlemanpoet]

"Who goes there? Show your face." The words were the snarl of a man expecting his death.

Thorn came into the dim light.

"I am Thorn. You gave your man command to hide me in your house. I thank you. I did not expect to see you again. You have done as well as could be hoped."