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Post by bhagavat on Nov 3, 2014 5:47:24 GMT -5
------------------------------------ The Fight -----------------------
There were people everywhere. The fights tonight included a few favorites. The Dancing Death, a couple elves dressed as assassins were a favorite of mine. One wielded a greatsword like I do... well.. like I'd like to is more honest. The other a monk of some kind serving who knows. I always tried to get a good view so I could watch the male elf and his greatsword. Such grace and power flowing through him, his blade crushing shields, and breaking bones.... even severing body parts. The flow of his blade seemed alive, always where it should be. A great gong sounded and the fight began. The double D's were paired off to some newcomers... three brawlers. No grace... just wild rage and slopping attacks. Still, when they hit they hit hard. The lead berzerker began swinging his huge hammer around and the other two took up their crossbows and began firing. The Dancing Death started moving forward, monk in front, catching and breaking any bolts that flew close. The other elf slowly coming up behind the monk. They closed the gap quickly enough and then both charged as Id seen them do many times. The monk cam in low, the firsts huge hammer still being raised up and punch the fool in his privates with such power he dropped his hammer and doubled over onto the ground. The greatsword then flashed out smashing the crossbowman in the heads, letting the power of the swing turn his around 360 degrees he made one slower strike low and almost severed the head from the last one. All dead, just like that. I'd seen few give the double D's much trouble. Perhaps they were twins and had some special connection... certainly couldn't tell much of them with their faces masked. He watched them leave the arena, looking for a clue as to whom the greatsword wielder was.... I was good with mine, but I watched to be better.Ah well. I packed up my things and headed back to Greatguant and searching for a blade master taking on apprentices. Maric wanted his blade to sing as a part of him. He trained pretty often on his own... sighing his made his way.
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Post by bhagavat on Nov 4, 2014 11:50:21 GMT -5
--------------- Private Bodyguard ----------------
Maric walked slightly behind and to the side of his current customer, a merchant and dabbler in the arcane arts. Some areas of Suzials Docks could get dangerous, especially at night. Maric was nervous, knowing he wasnt much more than a thug carrying a huge sword that was more for inspiring fear in any thugs that may trouble them. His warhammer and shield also strapped in place. A breastplate was the only other armor worn. He's been a smith's apprentice for a while before he quit to persue the glamorous life of the adventurer. He dreamed of dragon hordes and women... and using he greatsword like the fellow in the Death Dancers.
One more turn and my customer and I neared the bank. At the same time five common thugs came out of the darkness, surrounding us. All wore leathers and carried odd weapons , chain's and spiked clubs, just one carried a sword and he stepped forward towards us. "Just put the gold down and no one with get hurt."
Maric put himself between the thug and his customer while he drew his greatsword. "I dont think so fella." Maric swung his blade a few times hoping to intimidate the leader. The thugs did take a step back. Garic was pretty good with the blade, and certainly better trained then these fools. He was no double D, but would seem so to these brigands most likely. They started closing a circle a bit more and my customer grabbed my cloak in fear as they surrounded us. "We're ok, just put them to sleep or daze them or something". The magic flowed as he chanted some spell, Garic walked around his customer keeping any thugs from rushing in. Next thing Maric knew the magic was released... right through him to the three thugs in front of him. The spray of colors confused Garic, his sword tip lowered, and he wondered what he was doing. Did I forget secure my savings? Who were these people sleeping in front him. Maric turned around, blade tip still low and watched two thugs laugh and move towards the merchant.
I was supposed to... erm.. "what was I supposed to do again?" Meric mumbled to himself. The mage jumped behind Maric, trying to keep the other two on the other side of him. The smaller of the two rushed Maric slamming into his iron breatplate. He tried to stab his dagger through the chest plate, but he missed the sweet spot and the armor turns his dagger away. He stepped back slightly dazed from slamming into what might as well been a wall. The last one had looted some of his friends before seeing Maric starting to shake off the effect of the spell. He was gone down an alley with his 'frinds' long sword and a few gold coin pouches.
Maric turned to the merchant mage. "Ya didnt see me there? try using the spray on the enemy, fook". With that Maric walked amongst the street thugs that had magically been made to sleep and set his huge blade over their hearts and stabbing down, killing them.
"Was that really necessary?" the Merchant mage said.
"I'm going to have enough trouble if that one that got away comes looking for blood with more friends... and it will be my blood they seek.. not your mage." Maric said before setting out for the bank again. His customer following closely.
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Post by bhagavat on Jun 21, 2022 14:35:47 GMT -5
And on Garic's... I mean Maric's career went. He met a warrior named Mara on day and she told him of the band of mercenaries she was petitioning Cormyr for the right to create. A mercenary band with only one local contract, that with the crown. Having fought with her, Maric was interested and became a part of her growing mercenary force in the Forrest Kingdom of Cormyr. Contracts got larger, purses got fatter, and Marics lifestyle grew to that of a wealthy man, if not lower noble, in Cormyr. His fame grew as well, as did his infamy. Known as a proud, formibable warrior, he met challenges from other here and there, winning most. His poor taste in company when enjoying wine and women wasn't much of a secret either, but then he was only a mercenary.
The Ironsworn continues to grow in fame and fortune, but Maric was a part of this less and less, preferring to stay in luxury, enjoying the gold he had aquired and the wine and women that came with it... in the right parts of Cormyr anyway.
Eventually being noticed as an old war hero from different battles about Cormyr began to wear on him, a blanket of shame he wore, and drank more to cover. Finally he decided to leave Cormyr with the still large amounts of gold and expensive gear and gifts he had aquired. Off he road one day, without a good bye to anyone. His blades wrapped up and stored, but his bottle ready at his side.
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Post by bhagavat on Jun 21, 2022 15:02:40 GMT -5
And his wandering adventures began. He quickly hired some cheap sell swords to accompany him in his travels, and help guard his riches. They headed off in the general direction of the Dales, but stopped often, setting up camp for weeks to enjoy drink and women when they were about. His camp grew. People from various walks of life threw in with the rich ex mercenary and his people, cooking, working, hunting, whatever, there was work to be had amongst these lazy fools that thought so much of themselves.
About a year into this slow moving camps travels Maria met a woman he couldn’t have. She traveled with some family, mostly hunting and cooking for the camp. She was young and beautiful. Had many interested in her but also was well guarded and loved by her father and brothers. He had to have her, but even more, he needed her to love him.
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Post by bhagavat on Jun 21, 2022 16:13:43 GMT -5
So Maric, with his eye on this healthy beautiful woman, slowly arranged for her and her family to be important among the traveling... lets call it a small town now... and yet to reach the Dales. A few hundred people. His personal hunters and foragers, as well cooks took in this woman and her family, paying them well. Maric had it arranged that Angela, the young beauty that had caught his eye, would be his cook and bring him his food and eat with him, along with her brothers and father. Her mother had never been among them, and he didn't really care to ask of her. Maric tried to impress them with heroic tales of adventure from his time in Cormyr and his fattening belly filled with choice meats and fruits. He had never been much of a ladies man, his old friends from the Ironsworn knew this well enough. He didn't have the social skills, or relationship skills some take for granted. He didn't know being honest about who he was may have been enough for some, so he continued to try and impress and go to bed alone, ashamed and angry.... and angrier... and angrier each night he failed to get the reaction from these folk he was looking for.
He didn't know how simple and obvious a fool he was to many folks, including some much more insidious then he would ever want to be. But he was rich... so Maric turned into Mark... and he became a mark for one dangerous person floating around the camp, looking busy, but always watching him. After seeing his growing anger in regards to his attempts to charm this simple, young woman, the robed, person, made his or her move. Known would ever know what it had been. A few drops of something into the wine set aside for him and his guests that night and the simple plan was set in motion.
So again, simple minded Maric... sadly a fool looking for love as only a fool does, drank more than anyone else and regaled them with a wondering tale of heroism and betrayal. In the middle of his story... where her felt on top of the world, and worth the love of anyone, in his own mind, he demanded Angela as his wife. She was shocked and afraid, having no love, attraction, or trust towards this braggard of a man. Her brothers and father quickly stood and guarded her from Maric... no weapons drawn. No one had any weapons on them, except perhaps a dagger here or there.
Maric stood staring at them, with a look of anger and betrayal across his confused immature features. An old man that had never grown up emotionally. On later reflection, with the aid some very special people in the world he would see, but not yet. His pride couldnt take this outrage. Being shamed as unworthy of a peasant girl, not that he had any real birthright... just an overblown ego that had decided he was a noble by right of fame and fortune.
Anyhow, he knocked away the men guarded his would be wife with relative ease, even in his slower, fatter, out of shape form. They fell to the ground, scattered but relatively unhurt. He got Angela by the arm and pulled her closer and she screamed.... angering him further. Horrible things began coming out of his mouth, about how she wasn't better then him, and she should count herself fortunate, while at the same time shaking her small form with horrible strength. She was afraid for her life, and her family could see that.
Some of Maric's trophies were about the tent. Huge bladed swords, armors, shields, a variety of other weapons, a large chest, and a strange simple looking spear. One brother grabbed it and stabbed the out of control host... getting him in the side of the gut... and dangerous blow. Maric released the woman and fell to the ground with a grunt.
He held himself off the ground and tried to make sense of what had happened, seeing the spear, he tried to wrench it back out. There were many around him it seemed. He couldn't make out was else was going on as his vision and focus faded some. He finally pulled the spear free, picked up his cloak and used it for pressure on the wound as he lay down and passes out.
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Maric awoke some time later. Surprised to see the father of his wanted bride bandaging him up. His tent was ashambles, Torn apart, very few of his belongings were still there. Many in his traveling town had left on their ways and the few that were left seemed to be scavengers.
What has happened? - Maric asked the father of Angela. "You flew into a drunken rage, scared my daughter to death and knocked the rest of us about. You meant to take her as your own. He brothers protected her honor and fought the lost mighty mercenary from Cormyr. They have left with her, to keep her safe... and I had gone as well. I came back when I realized how little you had actually drunk compared to many nights we have all spent together. When I returned you tent had been ransacked. Your chest and everything that looked of any value was gone... which is about everything. There is little more here then your bloodied clothing. Many of your men at arms lay dead outside. Many more ran off I'm afraid. I believe someone or some group of raiders had their way with you. I wanted to make sure you would heal. Before I became a parent I chose a life among the servants of the Broken God. I was a lost youth, an orphan with none to teach me how to live... and you remind me of myself back then. Seek them out. There was a shrine to the Broken God in the town you passed not that long ago. Trek back that was and see if they can help a broken soul like yours. Don't be hard on yourself, nothing you've lost today is of any value compared to what you will find if you seek them out. Now rest. I will watch over you a short time more before I leave to catch up to my family. I will find some armor and weapons from among the fallen for your use as you seek the healing your sick soul needs. May the Pain Bearer keep you and guide you on your way to a full life.
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Post by bhagavat on Jun 21, 2022 17:08:35 GMT -5
When Maric awoke, the sun was just starting to rise... all was still mostly dark. He was famished and saw the kind father of his would be bride had left him a break fast. Shame surged through him a moment as he thought of the incedent... he wasnt sure if it was becuase of his behavior or his rejection. Still, he wolfed down the meat and bread, and drank much of the left waterskin. Getting up he found a breastplate nearby he could fit into and a longsword and shield to put on his back with the small pack of provisions, meat and the waterskin. None were left, and he headed back the way he had come. Not sure where he was axactly, but it mattered little. He had nothing left. A failed attempt at being happy behind him, older, weaker, and out of practice with the blade he hoped felt little real hope. He walked where he had been told to, not really sure why except he had no better plan for himself.
While walking later that day, the sun at its zenith, the heat causing sweat to dampen his underclothes he looked into the gutter along side the road and saw a glimmer of steel. Reaching into it he pulled a greatsword from the dry muck. It was common, and seemed a mockery to him of his greatness. With anger, he abashed himself by throwing the dull, dirty blade on his back with the rest of his great and traveled on.
He traveled slowly a few days, making much better time then his caravan had going the other way, he finally arrived at a nameless village that could be seen a short distance from the road between Cormyr and The Dales. He walked up to the well, on the outskirts of town and sat down to rest, draining the rest of his water from this waterskin. Shortly there after a young man came to the well to draw water and looked at Maric.
Maric was looking pretty foul, much dirt, some blood on this clothing, and his dirty gear didnt give much of an impression. The boy told him there was a house of healing in town... more of a shack, but still a place for those in need to find help. Then he was off, with this water pales, going back into the town. Maric rested a while more but then got up, tried to fill his waterskin... but couldnt seeing there wasnt any rope and pale there. Shrugging he headed into town to find the house of healing. He remembers hearing of one in Suzial back when he was a man respected... or so he thought. I suppose some poor fools did respect him.
His smell was the first thing of note of course and he didnt need to say anything for the towns folk to oint him toward the House of Healing. On arriving there and entered and asked if they would offer him some aid, generally saying he had fallen on hard times. Asking no questions they put this things near a cot in the corner, and led him out back for a bath. Once clean, they shaved him and gave him some simple clothing to wear, and clean blanket and took him back to his cot. He didnt even notice his things were gone as he laid down to rest with a feeling of safety he hadn't even known he had lost... and when he had felt it before... maybe as long ago as when he was still apprenticed to work metal. With a sigh he fell away into the world of dreams, visions, and ghosts of his pasts.
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