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The Otter
BrokenPromiseA terrible shame struck Corbric’s heart and guilt coiled in his stomach causing him no end of distress. Their sworn duty first to the Herald besought they move on towards their destination, and yet honor bade them stay and deliver aid to the mounted warriors. Such impasse was there in these options that the guardsman became rigid in his countenance and he remained unresponsive, giving in reply only the slenderest, most confounded shake of his head. Beside him the scout grew more nervous and impatient by the second until at last he could bare it no more.
“Thy decision is mute bold Suchers.” Nimson proclaimed in agitation. “Turn thy mind from unbearable decisions and make swift our departure. The enemy hath been scattered by the riders who even now withdraw, no doubt to some haven or sanctuary. Our opportunity to do likewise might yet become forfeit should we tarry a moment more.”
“Indeed, so lead on brave knight and let us depart this accursed woodland once and for all.” Corbric agreed, interminably beholden for the scout’s intervention upon his moral dilemma. Taking up his bardiche the guardsman delivered a fatal blow to the closest of the three oncoming decayed, slaying the creature before it could beset one of their number. Setting his boot against the fallen’s exposed spine, Corbric wrenched free his curved blade from its skull, his weary arms gaining no repose from the act.
The knight, meanwhile, simply settled for jabbing at the next of the Decayed in the knee with the tip of their extended javelin, felling the rotten refuse to lay prone in the mud. She then strode forward, her pace quickened by the want to depart from the woods, her starlit partisan held aloft and ahead of her like a torch, fully illuminating the surrounding environs. Deep shadows were cast behind the nearest trees, but by and large Corbric and Nimson could now see clearly through the gloom that had obscured many of the decayed previously. The knight did not seem interested in engaging any of the dregs who arose from the sodden earth around them as they weaved between the trees, only pausing to cut down their number when going around would have been too inconvenient. The darkened, corrupted blood that would otherwise have stained the blade of her spear seemed to melt away like water seeping through a cloth skein as the light of her hymn shone through it. Her squire fell in line behind her, trailing nearer to Corbric and Nimson as they proceeded. Turning his head back to Nimson, he uttered a query in some vaguely familiar foreign language that neither Nimson nor Corbric could place.
The scout appeared perplexed by Amaign’s question, Corbric however recognized the words, so similar were they to his homeland’s tongue. “Doth thou speak Latin?” Corbric requested, for Nimson’s sake above all else. “I, Corbric Elgebar hail from the Switzerland Alps, and Nimson from the far northlands.”
“Well enough.” The squire said. “I thought thy companion’s accent was familiar, must have been mine ears playing tricks. I am Amaign, I hail from Bremen, far to the North...so I am told. Just so ye know, I was born into purgatory anew. I hath not lived before, so permit any ignorance on mine part.”
“Well met Amaign,” the guardsman replied. “And might I request thy lady’s name and station? For such a woman as her is not a common sight nowadays, nor any day before.” Corbric peered ahead towards the intrepid knight that led them, unfaltering in her assuredness and purpose. Indeed for all his days, and especially those most recent Corbric could never claim to have met a more valiant nor mysterious woman. His curiosity was pricked and he looked expectantly towards the squire, awaiting answers.
Amaign’s pace faltered, a conflicted expression of hurried contemplation streaking across his face. “...I prithee to reserve any judgment if you should have heard of her before. She is Levia Gerlinde, anointed Questor and Seeker. I know not whither she hails.”
Corbric seemed uncertain at this revelation, conversely Nimson due to his station under the Vicar recalled hearing of one by the name Levia Gerlinde and expressed as much, though in clear admindence to his lack of true knowledge of her deeds or misdeeds as they stood. Only possessing a common understanding of her prowess, and unladylike manner.
At that notion Amaign nearly dropped the bolt of javelins he carried in his haste to wave a hand at Nimson in exasperation. “Speak not of unladylike conduct, you’ll…” He paused to mutter something unintelligible and roll his eyes. “...That aside, though it be not mine place to speak of her deeds, know that though I hath mine own misgivings of her, the Questor is as selfless and forthright as one could ask for in a Seeker - and know also should you hear otherwise, or of any…” He stopped speaking, frowning for a moment as if mulling over what word to use before resuming. “...of any unlikely claims, she hath never uttered a lie or mistruth in all the years I have known her, and she does not tolerate deceit. She would never stoop to common perfidy for the sake of her own vainglory.”
“To that, brave Amagin...” Corbric granted, tracing out the symbol of light upon his chest in a moment of reflection and respect. “...There resides in my mind no doubt. Tis a truth we will declare in bold voices that all the world might hear and understand. For the mere right to as of yet be drawing breath, we are indebted to her.” As he finished his eulogy their company reached the edge of the forest and emerged onto the mountain's base.
Levia paused briefly to stamp the muck from her grieves and boots before proceeding, waving a hand over the edge of her partisan and, with the faintest of murmurs, causing the tantalizing starlit glow to fade away. In the gray twilight of purgatory’s darkened skies, she led them onwards up, into the mountains along an incline that, although steep, was mostly grass and dirt rather than jagged rock. The writhing forms of the decayed in the forest seemed to groan and heave along the shadowed border of the woods, but they did not emerge to pursue the group further.
Having ascended the ridge, Levia raised a hand in indication that they should all step and rest. Settling again a nearby bolder, she removed the gauntlets about her hands, one after the other, and then began to remove the pins securing her armet in place whilst Amaign introduced Corbric and Nimson to her.
Undoing the last clasp, Levia peeled the front end of her armet away from her face, handing it to Amaign before then removing the back-end of the helmet as well. Her long, autumn-colored hair, tucked beneath the leather under her gorget, she carefully pulled out in messy strands with a look of consternation as she spoke.
“Well met, Corbric, Seeker of the Alps, and Nimson. I am Levia Gerlinde, and prior to the fall of our fair land I did remain in Normandy. I am only a Seeker as of...eightfold lifespans ago, perhaps? I spent many lives attempting to live simply, come the terror of the adversary upon our lands. Since then I journeyed many paths and places. Before I received word of this Vicar and her…” A particular, begrieved expression crossed her face, though whether due to the topic of the strain of pulling her hair out of her armor was uncertain. “...alleged visions of the Herald, I bore thought of heading South, across the great sea, to try and discern what became of the lands of bygone Carthage.”
”Our tales are most similar Lady Gerlinde.” Corbric in turn removed his sallet, gripping the battle stained helm under the crook of his arm. “Tis my hope that this will indeed be the finale of my search, and that the world shall be redeemed of its despair. I can give thee some closure in regards to the fate of all that South and East of the Alps. T’would be fair to state that the situation fares them no better, if not worse.”
Whilst they spoke Nimson turned in a full rotation, casting his sharp eyed gaze up and down the mountain sides that now dominated the landscape about them. “Suchers!” He yelled, his excitement unmistakable. “I know where we now stand, the monastery is within a short march in yon route, should we make haste we shall arrive before the morn.”
“That is good indeed to hear, for though our final destination be preordained, I shall permit I was prepared to endure only a great tedium of roaming through these foreign crevices in search.” Levia proclaimed, visibly sighing with relief. “If thee are not awaiting any others, perhaps we shall embark once more? If thou have foreknowledge of this realm, it would please me to follow your guidance.”
By Nimson’s established course the company moved out and made good time through the mountain trails facing no other hardship throughout. Their arrival, which Nimson prewarned in advanced, was observed by a number of young maidens awaiting them just outside the monastery's concealed entrance, watching with the silent nervous eyes of youthful curiosity.
Levia’s body stiffened as their group approached, her eyes narrowing as she looked the maidens up and down with an expression of barely-concealed contempt.
“...Such transparent and misbegotten intent do these sort bear. To this day, one of my greatest regrets is living such as they, in shallow and wanton womanhood. They seek to forestall our purpose with their own, baser pursuits.” Her voice was uttered in all-but a snarl. Immediately behind her, Amaign wordlessly signalled Corbric and Nimson with an expression of warning, waving a hand errantly before turning back to face the approaching maidens.
“Mayhap frivolous innocence is a blessing to those of their age and stature.” Corbric cajoled, his hardened heart softening at the sight of the young beauties.
“Hark, see not their apparent youth! Remember where you are, good Seeker!” Levia snapped. “They are all likely of many lifetimes and should know better! The flesh is frail and temporary.” Amaign was staring daggers at Corbric behind Levia’s back, silently waving his hand once more, gesturing for the Seeker to quiet.
Oblivious to Amaign’s efforts the guardsman smiled at those waiting to attend them, respectfully disagreeing with the Quester’s cautions. “And yet perhaps they are like thy Squire, and know nothing of this cruel and bleak world we live in. Content to endure and foil the adversary in their own way. Even if not, how tempting is it to remain within the confines and safety of these walls rather than face the horrors unknown.”
“Do not permit them to waylay thee from thine post, Seeker.” Levia said with a measure of exasperation.
Levia’s disagreements struck a morbid chord in Corbric’s soul and he turned his head away from her in shame. Excuses rushed forth only to perish upon his tongue, as he could not bring himself to counter her, nor justify his moment of weakness. Abashed the guardsman drew his gaze with much difficulty from the young maidens, wishing for all the world it wasn’t so. “Thou speak truth of course.” He admitted at great length. “Our sworn duty is to the Herald, and pleasuring myself to no true end would be folly. I must never abandon my post, nor willingly jeopardize it through foolish acts. Never again…”
The Questor had not seemed to catch the gravity underlying his voice, nor the significance of his last words. “Ye, and thee shall be an exemplar of our ken, Sir Corbric.” She said, her voice coming back upon civility. “Permit me to handle these sordid waifs, so that we might not be forestalled.” She strode forward ahead of the group in order to intercept the maidens, just before the entrance to the monastery.
The three men caught only the faint sound of the maidens first few words to Levia before the Questor launched into some form of tirade, forcing the maidens to recoil in shock from whatever she said. She pointed an accusatory finger at one of the girls, saying something particularly acrimonious that sent the poor lass fleeing back into the monastery in tears. By the time the three came within coherent earshot once more, the brunt of the Questor’s storm had passed.
“...can well enough see to our own ‘needs,’ and should we have cause to call for you it shall be made so - until then, go thither! Plague us not unduly!” The maidens, stammering their addled assent, parted and made way for the group as they finally made their way within.
“...What I was trying to say earlier, Sir Corbric,” Amaign said through gritted teeth. “Was not to get her started about unladylike behavior. There goes our pleasant interlude.”
“Aye,” Nimson agreed, having been in great suspense to return and find company amongst the ladies of his home. “And they shall be terrified beyond words for a fortnite no doubt.”
“Perhaps it was unnecessary to frighten them so.” Corbric confessed, having not yet fully recuperated his thoughts. “But temptations of the flesh are little different than those of gold and silver, and I do not wish to be tempted to tarry long.”
“Says thee.” Nimson muttered irritably. “I shall remain here...”
“...If the intrusion be not unwelcome, I might rejoin thee.” Amaign indicated with some hesitation. “Permit me but a moment to seek leave from the Questor further within, that I might deposit mine burdens somewhere secure.”
Corbric’s armor and clothing, having been freshly cleaned and oiled the previous evening by no lacking effort now dripped crimson, soaked through with the Vicar’s blood. Throwing off a gauntlet the guardsman wiped clean his eyes so that he might see, blinking away the stinging annoyance that clung therein. Freed of his blinding prison Crobric retrieved his bardiche, leveling the polearm so as to impale the Pallid Beast that stood over them. He hesitated for the briefest of moments and by good fortune he did, such an act would have been the death of him. At that moment the Beast’s counter towards Levia failed, and the unintended backswing tore the bardiche from Corbric’s hands and threw him from his feet, the serrated claws missing his chest by a hair’s breadth. Clattering across the stone floor Corbric rolled to a halt, regaining his feet and drawing his sword in a single fluid motion.
“Brothers and sisters in arms, we are many and this abomination is but one. Surround her from all sides and foray at indiscriminate intervals and we shall smite her down forthwith!” This stated Corbric began edging around the Pallid’s Beast’s exposed flank, darting forward to strike with his blade, only to retreat should she turn to face him.
“Thy decision is mute bold Suchers.” Nimson proclaimed in agitation. “Turn thy mind from unbearable decisions and make swift our departure. The enemy hath been scattered by the riders who even now withdraw, no doubt to some haven or sanctuary. Our opportunity to do likewise might yet become forfeit should we tarry a moment more.”
“Indeed, so lead on brave knight and let us depart this accursed woodland once and for all.” Corbric agreed, interminably beholden for the scout’s intervention upon his moral dilemma. Taking up his bardiche the guardsman delivered a fatal blow to the closest of the three oncoming decayed, slaying the creature before it could beset one of their number. Setting his boot against the fallen’s exposed spine, Corbric wrenched free his curved blade from its skull, his weary arms gaining no repose from the act.
The knight, meanwhile, simply settled for jabbing at the next of the Decayed in the knee with the tip of their extended javelin, felling the rotten refuse to lay prone in the mud. She then strode forward, her pace quickened by the want to depart from the woods, her starlit partisan held aloft and ahead of her like a torch, fully illuminating the surrounding environs. Deep shadows were cast behind the nearest trees, but by and large Corbric and Nimson could now see clearly through the gloom that had obscured many of the decayed previously. The knight did not seem interested in engaging any of the dregs who arose from the sodden earth around them as they weaved between the trees, only pausing to cut down their number when going around would have been too inconvenient. The darkened, corrupted blood that would otherwise have stained the blade of her spear seemed to melt away like water seeping through a cloth skein as the light of her hymn shone through it. Her squire fell in line behind her, trailing nearer to Corbric and Nimson as they proceeded. Turning his head back to Nimson, he uttered a query in some vaguely familiar foreign language that neither Nimson nor Corbric could place.
The scout appeared perplexed by Amaign’s question, Corbric however recognized the words, so similar were they to his homeland’s tongue. “Doth thou speak Latin?” Corbric requested, for Nimson’s sake above all else. “I, Corbric Elgebar hail from the Switzerland Alps, and Nimson from the far northlands.”
“Well enough.” The squire said. “I thought thy companion’s accent was familiar, must have been mine ears playing tricks. I am Amaign, I hail from Bremen, far to the North...so I am told. Just so ye know, I was born into purgatory anew. I hath not lived before, so permit any ignorance on mine part.”
“Well met Amaign,” the guardsman replied. “And might I request thy lady’s name and station? For such a woman as her is not a common sight nowadays, nor any day before.” Corbric peered ahead towards the intrepid knight that led them, unfaltering in her assuredness and purpose. Indeed for all his days, and especially those most recent Corbric could never claim to have met a more valiant nor mysterious woman. His curiosity was pricked and he looked expectantly towards the squire, awaiting answers.
Amaign’s pace faltered, a conflicted expression of hurried contemplation streaking across his face. “...I prithee to reserve any judgment if you should have heard of her before. She is Levia Gerlinde, anointed Questor and Seeker. I know not whither she hails.”
Corbric seemed uncertain at this revelation, conversely Nimson due to his station under the Vicar recalled hearing of one by the name Levia Gerlinde and expressed as much, though in clear admindence to his lack of true knowledge of her deeds or misdeeds as they stood. Only possessing a common understanding of her prowess, and unladylike manner.
At that notion Amaign nearly dropped the bolt of javelins he carried in his haste to wave a hand at Nimson in exasperation. “Speak not of unladylike conduct, you’ll…” He paused to mutter something unintelligible and roll his eyes. “...That aside, though it be not mine place to speak of her deeds, know that though I hath mine own misgivings of her, the Questor is as selfless and forthright as one could ask for in a Seeker - and know also should you hear otherwise, or of any…” He stopped speaking, frowning for a moment as if mulling over what word to use before resuming. “...of any unlikely claims, she hath never uttered a lie or mistruth in all the years I have known her, and she does not tolerate deceit. She would never stoop to common perfidy for the sake of her own vainglory.”
“To that, brave Amagin...” Corbric granted, tracing out the symbol of light upon his chest in a moment of reflection and respect. “...There resides in my mind no doubt. Tis a truth we will declare in bold voices that all the world might hear and understand. For the mere right to as of yet be drawing breath, we are indebted to her.” As he finished his eulogy their company reached the edge of the forest and emerged onto the mountain's base.
Levia paused briefly to stamp the muck from her grieves and boots before proceeding, waving a hand over the edge of her partisan and, with the faintest of murmurs, causing the tantalizing starlit glow to fade away. In the gray twilight of purgatory’s darkened skies, she led them onwards up, into the mountains along an incline that, although steep, was mostly grass and dirt rather than jagged rock. The writhing forms of the decayed in the forest seemed to groan and heave along the shadowed border of the woods, but they did not emerge to pursue the group further.
Having ascended the ridge, Levia raised a hand in indication that they should all step and rest. Settling again a nearby bolder, she removed the gauntlets about her hands, one after the other, and then began to remove the pins securing her armet in place whilst Amaign introduced Corbric and Nimson to her.
Undoing the last clasp, Levia peeled the front end of her armet away from her face, handing it to Amaign before then removing the back-end of the helmet as well. Her long, autumn-colored hair, tucked beneath the leather under her gorget, she carefully pulled out in messy strands with a look of consternation as she spoke.
“Well met, Corbric, Seeker of the Alps, and Nimson. I am Levia Gerlinde, and prior to the fall of our fair land I did remain in Normandy. I am only a Seeker as of...eightfold lifespans ago, perhaps? I spent many lives attempting to live simply, come the terror of the adversary upon our lands. Since then I journeyed many paths and places. Before I received word of this Vicar and her…” A particular, begrieved expression crossed her face, though whether due to the topic of the strain of pulling her hair out of her armor was uncertain. “...alleged visions of the Herald, I bore thought of heading South, across the great sea, to try and discern what became of the lands of bygone Carthage.”
”Our tales are most similar Lady Gerlinde.” Corbric in turn removed his sallet, gripping the battle stained helm under the crook of his arm. “Tis my hope that this will indeed be the finale of my search, and that the world shall be redeemed of its despair. I can give thee some closure in regards to the fate of all that South and East of the Alps. T’would be fair to state that the situation fares them no better, if not worse.”
Whilst they spoke Nimson turned in a full rotation, casting his sharp eyed gaze up and down the mountain sides that now dominated the landscape about them. “Suchers!” He yelled, his excitement unmistakable. “I know where we now stand, the monastery is within a short march in yon route, should we make haste we shall arrive before the morn.”
“That is good indeed to hear, for though our final destination be preordained, I shall permit I was prepared to endure only a great tedium of roaming through these foreign crevices in search.” Levia proclaimed, visibly sighing with relief. “If thee are not awaiting any others, perhaps we shall embark once more? If thou have foreknowledge of this realm, it would please me to follow your guidance.”
888888888888
By Nimson’s established course the company moved out and made good time through the mountain trails facing no other hardship throughout. Their arrival, which Nimson prewarned in advanced, was observed by a number of young maidens awaiting them just outside the monastery's concealed entrance, watching with the silent nervous eyes of youthful curiosity.
Levia’s body stiffened as their group approached, her eyes narrowing as she looked the maidens up and down with an expression of barely-concealed contempt.
“...Such transparent and misbegotten intent do these sort bear. To this day, one of my greatest regrets is living such as they, in shallow and wanton womanhood. They seek to forestall our purpose with their own, baser pursuits.” Her voice was uttered in all-but a snarl. Immediately behind her, Amaign wordlessly signalled Corbric and Nimson with an expression of warning, waving a hand errantly before turning back to face the approaching maidens.
“Mayhap frivolous innocence is a blessing to those of their age and stature.” Corbric cajoled, his hardened heart softening at the sight of the young beauties.
“Hark, see not their apparent youth! Remember where you are, good Seeker!” Levia snapped. “They are all likely of many lifetimes and should know better! The flesh is frail and temporary.” Amaign was staring daggers at Corbric behind Levia’s back, silently waving his hand once more, gesturing for the Seeker to quiet.
Oblivious to Amaign’s efforts the guardsman smiled at those waiting to attend them, respectfully disagreeing with the Quester’s cautions. “And yet perhaps they are like thy Squire, and know nothing of this cruel and bleak world we live in. Content to endure and foil the adversary in their own way. Even if not, how tempting is it to remain within the confines and safety of these walls rather than face the horrors unknown.”
“Do not permit them to waylay thee from thine post, Seeker.” Levia said with a measure of exasperation.
Levia’s disagreements struck a morbid chord in Corbric’s soul and he turned his head away from her in shame. Excuses rushed forth only to perish upon his tongue, as he could not bring himself to counter her, nor justify his moment of weakness. Abashed the guardsman drew his gaze with much difficulty from the young maidens, wishing for all the world it wasn’t so. “Thou speak truth of course.” He admitted at great length. “Our sworn duty is to the Herald, and pleasuring myself to no true end would be folly. I must never abandon my post, nor willingly jeopardize it through foolish acts. Never again…”
The Questor had not seemed to catch the gravity underlying his voice, nor the significance of his last words. “Ye, and thee shall be an exemplar of our ken, Sir Corbric.” She said, her voice coming back upon civility. “Permit me to handle these sordid waifs, so that we might not be forestalled.” She strode forward ahead of the group in order to intercept the maidens, just before the entrance to the monastery.
The three men caught only the faint sound of the maidens first few words to Levia before the Questor launched into some form of tirade, forcing the maidens to recoil in shock from whatever she said. She pointed an accusatory finger at one of the girls, saying something particularly acrimonious that sent the poor lass fleeing back into the monastery in tears. By the time the three came within coherent earshot once more, the brunt of the Questor’s storm had passed.
“...can well enough see to our own ‘needs,’ and should we have cause to call for you it shall be made so - until then, go thither! Plague us not unduly!” The maidens, stammering their addled assent, parted and made way for the group as they finally made their way within.
“...What I was trying to say earlier, Sir Corbric,” Amaign said through gritted teeth. “Was not to get her started about unladylike behavior. There goes our pleasant interlude.”
“Aye,” Nimson agreed, having been in great suspense to return and find company amongst the ladies of his home. “And they shall be terrified beyond words for a fortnite no doubt.”
“Perhaps it was unnecessary to frighten them so.” Corbric confessed, having not yet fully recuperated his thoughts. “But temptations of the flesh are little different than those of gold and silver, and I do not wish to be tempted to tarry long.”
“Says thee.” Nimson muttered irritably. “I shall remain here...”
“...If the intrusion be not unwelcome, I might rejoin thee.” Amaign indicated with some hesitation. “Permit me but a moment to seek leave from the Questor further within, that I might deposit mine burdens somewhere secure.”
888888888888
Corbric’s armor and clothing, having been freshly cleaned and oiled the previous evening by no lacking effort now dripped crimson, soaked through with the Vicar’s blood. Throwing off a gauntlet the guardsman wiped clean his eyes so that he might see, blinking away the stinging annoyance that clung therein. Freed of his blinding prison Crobric retrieved his bardiche, leveling the polearm so as to impale the Pallid Beast that stood over them. He hesitated for the briefest of moments and by good fortune he did, such an act would have been the death of him. At that moment the Beast’s counter towards Levia failed, and the unintended backswing tore the bardiche from Corbric’s hands and threw him from his feet, the serrated claws missing his chest by a hair’s breadth. Clattering across the stone floor Corbric rolled to a halt, regaining his feet and drawing his sword in a single fluid motion.
“Brothers and sisters in arms, we are many and this abomination is but one. Surround her from all sides and foray at indiscriminate intervals and we shall smite her down forthwith!” This stated Corbric began edging around the Pallid’s Beast’s exposed flank, darting forward to strike with his blade, only to retreat should she turn to face him.