POOHEAD189

The Shattered Vow - A Chanson de geste

He gave a small grunt as the pain spiked again, but he knew it just meant he was on the mend. The small breathe of wind kissing his chin, along with the small stubble that had accumulated from lack of rest, was welcome. He bore his mail and surcoat, as he had no servants to carry nor packs to store them in. At his side, the man's long handled axe idly swayed as he rode along the wild, forested path. It was a small backwoods road, and it suited him as well as any. Better, even. Torm felt like he would rather not been seen until he reached Yattar, and Lykurg seemed to be of like mind, clopping lazily along, the rhythmic movement sending the squire up and down like cresting waves.

He knew, by the grace of Il, that he should have a sense of respair. He had paid his indulgences, and if the Baron Edelmont had demanded an amercement, he would have been stripped of his lowly rank and had his steed taken. Despite all of the blunders, he had served his baron faithfully, and the man knew that, so he let him ride out with a modicum of dignity along his horse. However, as he had been granted his sword as an enfeoff, it had been taken away when his oath had been rendered null. He had nothing to his name, save the axe he had been granted before entering the baron's service. No lance, no sword, a small dagger for self defense, he would have to win at the preliminary melees, and perhaps be fortunate enough to catch the eye of a nobleman and be allowed to enter the Grand Melee. Maybe then he could be granted a lance and be given the chance to compete properly, but that was long odds. He was no knight, and had squandered his chance at being one.

There were clouds in the distance, pregnant with rain, if he had the right of it. The old astronomer at Castle Felmadon had tried to teach him some basics of celestial movements, but as far as he knew, the clouds could shift and be across the continent in a day without even touching him, but the effect was the same. He felt even more downtrodden and lethargic just by their presence. It was an odd state of affairs for the young squire. Just the last tenday he had felt more alive than he ever had in his entire life, and during his boyhood he had spent time in the favor of the king. Now? He could die here on this road, and no one would weep for him. Not even his own father.

He gave a cynical smile to himself. Especially his father.

Lykurg gave a small start. Torm raised an eyebrow, and then gazed to his left into the thickly wooded area. If he wasn't a fool, this was an assart for Count Sinclair, meant to be cultivated at his leisure. It might not be until his great grandson needed more farmland, but this was technically his land regardless. Torm had learned to trust Lykurg's instincts, and the briefest twitch of the horse had set his eyes to the trees, scanning for movement. Idly, he held his reins a bit tighter with his left, his right hand not yet reaching for the haft of his large axe.

Instead of a band of highwaymen, or one of the large wolves that frequent the thicker forests of the continent, the martyred lady herself stepped out onto the road. Or some fey of the old world? No, impossible. Her skin and features were different than all of the murals. No, she was someone Torm imagined looked like a princess of a foreign land. Her long legs sending her right out of the tree line, stumbling onto the dirt road. He hesitated for just a single moment, stunned at the unexpected sight. Immediately he felt he needed to help. He opened his lips to call out to her in aid, to warn her he meant her no harm. However, the next thing that stepped into his eyesight was a faceless armsman, his head obscured by a sallet and wearing a coat of plates. The figure strode out like an iron automaton, an unsheathed sword in his hand as he reached for the woman. Behind him, another man holding a nine foot spear followed, yelling something Torm couldn't make out.

The curs!

The spearman turned. He cared not. His melancholy purged, replaced by the same flame that ignited his heart during the Battle of Cal'cero. He kicked Lykurg into motion, the battle-tested destrier on the move before he even finished his command. The squire, powerful and strong with wintry eyes and hair of chestnut-copper, lifted his axe with an ease born out of years of practice. The weapon was long, almost an ell in length. The bearded head was heavy, and while he could wield it well on foot with both hands, it was a perfect weapon for horseback. As Lykurg picked up speed, he felt the familiar undulation of his steed and let the axe haft slide down his hand. He was upon them almost instantly, and the spearman only just got his weapon in life to pierce Lykurg's shoulder.

What the spearman was unaware of, was that horses were large animals. In a wall of bristling spears, a horse stood little chance. But this was just a flesh wound for Lykurg that would heal up swiftly if given proper care. Still, the destrier squealed, but kept his pace. Torm would later look back at his stroke being a thing of beauty, but at the time he didn't notice. His axe swung just as the swordsman turned to acknowledge his presence, and even with the added protection, the sheer speed and power of the axe clove into the thinner section of his helm and split his face in two. Even as the man died, Lykurg spun and kicked out with his back legs like a show-horse, and just as with the swordman, the helm did little to save the man. In fact, he was left even more ruined than the sword. The corpse flew into the trees, because he was dead as soon as he was kicked by the great beast.

The horse ended its spin, and Torm, seeing both pursuers dead, held his hand out for the woman to take. "My lady, are you hurt?" he asked breathlessly, concern in his eyes.

Black Serpents: Warhammer RP

"Quite the show," Kayden remarked to Calliope. "My lady," he added as an after thought. She had informed him he needn't the pleasantries while they played chess and conversed strategy and philosophy, but it was good to continue the titles in public. They stepped onto the cobbled streets of the town as the sun waned, and both Morrsleib and Mannsleib loomed in the distance. Mercifully, Mannsleib seemed the greater this approaching evening.

"Not be design," The Lady Blackwood replied, though a look at Kayden's amusement had her give a ghost of a smile. "It seems wherever I go, there is a bit of theater."

"No complaints on my end. Though if they see how many men I have under my command, there might be a bit too much theater." He reminded her with an insouciant smile. "If you recall, I have quadruple what you told the good Baron."

"Worry not, for you'll only be bringing in a few at a time to Bonnershaven. But enough to give the illusion I was off by a few dozen, not a few hundred." She temporized, turning the corner with her retinue and Kayden. A wagon of grain stopped before them in an almost dangerous swerve when they saw the heavily armored knights that scowled at the teamster.

"I take it this Von Wrolf is your old acquaintence who has an item you wish to re-acquire, my lady?"

"Astute as always." She said, sighing. Evidently it was going to be more difficult than she had originally anticipated. "I'll have to arrange a meeting where neither of us can surprise the other. In the meantime, see to your men, Captain."

Kayden turned to her, his cloak whirring extravagantly as he gave her a courtly bow. "As the dark lady wishes." He said, in a way so solemn she could grasp a hint of waggishness in his tone. Otto lifted his head as if to say 'be off, peasant,' but as usual, Kayden ignored him, and stalked off with his pair of guards to make his way back to the camp.

---

Within the next few hours, as night fully fell, Kayden returned with twenty five of his men, without their surcoats and only knives and more concealed weaponry, so as not to appear under arms. The gates, luckily, stayed open all night.

"State your business, sir." A night watchman asked, his face glowing like an ember in the flames of his torch.

"I am Kayden, a man of Lady Calliope Blackwood. We are simply coming in to taste the hospitality of your fair town." Kayden informed him from his horse. The man glanced behind him to the ragtag group of men who looked casual but alert. Neil waved jovially, and one of the few brettonian men spit onto the ground. After another moment of appraisal, the guard pursed his lips and nodded.

"Right, off you go, then. I suggest you try to the Boar's Head. Got enough room for all your lads." He said, waving them in. Kayden gave the man a nod and set his horse into a canter, the men following behind. Kayden saw his men to the establishment. It was three stories high and well built, with a stone base and warm light inside. As its name suggested, a huge, stuffed boar's head the size of a horse's chest was mounted above the front archway.

"I don't know about a boar, but I'll see if I can find some head in here." A voice quipped. He recognized the voice.

"If you get into trouble, I'm not bailing you out, Neil." Kayden remarked over his shoulder. There were a few chuckles and some murmuring voices, before he saw them off into the common room. Neil was shoved, and he shoved another man back as they stumbled into the alehouse. As the last man stepped in, scratching his ass and closing the door to mute the raucous voices within, Morek was the only one left who stood beside Kayden's mount.

"You don't want to join them?" Kayden asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Beer'll be piss poor." Was Morek's only explanation. The Prince remembered they still had some Bugman's XXX back at camp, so he saw the wisdom in it. He dismounted his horse out of respect for the dwarf, knowing he would easily outpace him even if he slowed his mount to a crawl.

"Well, let us check on the lady before we make it back. See if she's in need of anything." Kayden said. Morek shrugged, as fine with trekking there as anything. Dwarfs weren't fast, but they were tireless, something he had learned from long marches beside the Ironbreaker. Kayden directed his steed by the reins, and the two mercenaries turned northward and headed up the main drag of Bonnershaven, past the street lamps glowing with camphine lights and the few residents still out past dark. He knew he didn't have to be on high alert. There was little to fear for the two of them, armed and tough. Well, armed, and at least Morek was both. However, as they passed an alleyway, Kayden saw another pair of figures conversing in the shadows. He might not have noticed them, if the bright colors of the watchmen's tabard weren't caught by the wan light of Mannsleib. Kayden halting has alerted the dwarf, and he nodded for Morek to take a look. The dwarf turned his attention to the alleyway with mild interest. The pair of them were not very close, across the breadth of the cobblestone street, and they'd not be able to pick up finer details even were it daylight. However, Morek had better nightvision than Kayden.

"What do you make of that?" Kayden asked him. Even as he spoke, the more darkly clad figure that spoke to the watchman hurried off, and the Bonnershaven man strode out as if he had just finished a routine patrol.

"Not sure. I didn't like the look of it. He was armed but, probably not our business." Morek said. Kayden looked at him, and Morek shrugged. "Yer right," he conceded. "It's probably our business."

Twenty minutes later, and after a short roundabout way, making a circuit around the townhouse Calliope had procured for herself, Morek had spotted three men in the same dark cloaks conversing in hushed tones behind a grain storehouse just across the way from where Calliope and her men were holed up for the night. Kayden and Morek hid behind a cart a few dozen paces away, crouched down with blades drawn, silent as the grave. A night watchman strolled across the street, and a rat scurried out of his way, but otherwise this part of town was as dead as Morr's realm.

Whatever the cloaked figures were arguing over, the men had come to some sort of agreement. As one, they began to move and crept up the outer stairway of the grain house. It was a spiral that led to an overlook that would be relatively equal to the third floor of the townhouse. Kayden rightly guessed it was where Calliope would be, as nobility often took the bedroom at the top floor, for safety reasons and as a vague gesture of their heightened status. Even with his human eyes, Kayden could see they held large crossbows as they ascended.

"Me first, then you." Kayden whispered to Morek. The dwarf usually went ahead, as he could take an inhuman amount of punishment, but his heavy boots might raise the alarm and Kayden wanted to be quick and silent. Kayden and the dwarf hurried across the cobblestones, and the Prince stepped up the stairway with soft steps on the balls of his feet. As he moved up, the more lights in the distance he could see across the township. Bonnershaven might be a full fledged city in a few years, if it prospered any further.

Finally, he made it to the highest level, and slowed himself. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and as he moved like a thief, he saw the townhouse come into view. From this vantage, he could see the various armored clad figures on the bottom floor, and a handful passed intermittently between light sources on the second and third, save for at the center, where the largest window stood. Kayden glanced to his left, and saw one of the men placing a bolt on a crossbow quietly, as another pulled the string back on his crossbow to prepare. Kayden couldn't guess where the third was, until he heard a whisper from behind him.

"Clever, but not clever enough."

Kayden expected to feel a knife enter his back, but instead he felt more than heard a strangled gasp, and he spun to see the cloaked figure stricken, his cowled face wide eyed. As he fell, Morek stood behind him, yanking his axe out of the man's back. Kayden gave him a nod in thanks, and then rushed forward, sword bristling. Just as he turned the corner, he heard one of the assassins whisper something, a confirmation perhaps, and Kayden saw Calliope step into view. She was accompanied by the low, appreciate whistle of the assassin, and Kayden saw her shapely silhouette in the light. She wore naught but her undergarments, stretching in the light, a movement that only enhanced her charms. Kayden's mouth was dry, but he realized he was gawking.

He took a hold of his senses, and leaped out of the shadows behind the corner. His arming sword chopped down on the man's right arm, his blade cutting into bone. The man let out a started cry, and the crossbow loosed. Its bolt struck the window, two feet to Calliope's left. She spun, eyes wide, and with a flash of her hands, darkness obscured the room. The lights could not have gone out. It was a deeper black than that.

The assassin shouldered Kayden, and yanked his crossbow back to bite him in the side. But the Prince pommeled him in the face, and swung his sword at the other assassin who lifted his crossbow to end Kayden's life. His sword clove through the string, and the crossbow snapped. Its string whipped about as Kayden finished the first assassin off by grabbing his legs and upending him over the balcony. Kayden heard him breath in as he began to flail, and screamed the two dozen meters to the ground.

The last man took out a knife to defend himself, but he found himself face to face with a sword pointed at his head, and an angered dwarf behind the dashing captain.

"You can die now, or be questioned." Kayden said menacingly, letting his words sink in. "I suggest the latter."

👾 Video Game Discussion III: Larger, More Villainous, and Not Sliced

@POOHEAD189 This is basically any video game chatter atm so entirely on topic.

Sweet though. I've not got a chance to touch Gekishin Squadra yet, but can vouch the Oblivion Remaster was pretty solid. Need to recheck it since a decent number of mods got support almost immediately, so I imagine that's gone up now.

I made an unarmed Argonian that was Lord Frieza, ironically.

@Lith

LOL Nice, with Lord Frieza. Yeah, I need to check the new mods. Gekishin is also extremely addicting

Site Update and New Mod!

Hey guys, it's ya boi Poo, and I just want to give a quick reminder and quicker announcement.

I've said this a bunch of times before, but while it is implied in the rules and every mod says it, we will be adding it specifically to the rules very soon. If you see a thread or a post that breaks the rules, or see any harassment, please come to the mods. Do not incite drama and attack whoever it is. If you do, you are also breaking the rules! If someone calls someone an insult, that is against the rule, and that is not a free card for you to do the same thing, because that is still...not good. So please come to the mods.

Even if you don't trust a mod for whatever reason, find one you do trust, and then let us solve it. Also, if you see something bad happening, and wonder why a mod doesn't take care of it, it's because you know about it, and we don't. So please, please, please let us know!

That being said, we have a new mod in our team! Sugar and Spite has been a chat mod for years now, and we've decided she's earned a site moderation role! So please welcome her, she's super cool and a longtime member.

Thanks everyone. I have to say this is honestly one of the best communities in my experience. Let's keep it that way.

Love, Poohead

Well well…

@icmasticc Nice to have you back, dude

Well hi there

@Coda Awesome to meet you :)

Hey hey people, Nullsprocket here

@Nullsprocket Glad to have you! Welcome

👾 Video Game Discussion III: Larger, More Villainous, and Not Sliced

@Lith Not sure if this is on-topic but I've been playing DB Gekishin Squadra and I also just made a bunch of space for Oblivion Remastered

Wow, is there really only one active thread in the Off-Topic Forum?!

I finally come to check it out and it's dead.

@Aurkanthis

Good thing we have patriots like you

Heroes of The Guard: A Warhammer 40K RP

I often liked to joke I was a man of action, when really I was more a man of strategy. It's true, I did run from my family's legacy to gain renown for battlefield action, and I might be a fine duelist and a steady gun hand, but it's not beyond my pride to admit I would rather be kilometers away from the action and moving troops from intel rather than fighting on the front lines. However, the men would not make light of the story specialist Elara would tell them, nor what occurred when we made it back.

The ascension was much harsher than sliding down, as you might imagine, but as we were able to help one another, we made it back to the top with little difficulty. The snow had led up a bit, or perhaps it was simply the wind, but I could already make out the silhouette of the main house as we crested the edge of the decline. Elara rubbed her hands, her face sallow from the violence she had seen, but still relishing the chance to warm herself inside.

"You acquitted yourself well," I told her, trying to be less familiar while still maintaining a positive rapport.

She gave a mirthless chuckle. "I certainly watched very skillfully."

No sooner had we arrived, that I received a message on the vox. Elara helped me through a pack of snow as I hailed the message.

"Sir, corporal Sel is in trouble." Crispin's voice cracked over the static. "I don't know her position, but I have men sweeping the area."

The question formed on my lips, but I acknowledged without further hesitation and hurried through the thin area of camp as men rushed around me. I knew where she was, or had an idea at least. I had allowed her a moment of respite, and anyone sane would go into the more public areas of the mansion. Elara called my name but I rushed past the guard we had set and took out my laspistol, my lasgun still shouldered. One of my men saluted my approach, only to scramble out of the way as I rammed through the great doors to the front lobby of the mansion. The snow that accompanied my entrance was the only movement, but I heard distant shouts. It sounded as if it were coming from the west wing. I sprinted, cursing myself for a fool. Of course my men would not patrol the inner mansion, and nor would they deem it good to burst in, even when notified of a direct attack.

I turned the corner just in time to see Sel's hobble break, and my bruised aid crashed to the floor as a bloodied sergeant and two other men followed suit. I recognized one as an officer. An electro-halberd was held by one of the guards, a nasty weapon if it got close to you. The officer was waving about a saber, but the sergeant seemed keen to put his hands on Sel. I shouted for them to stop, but I only received a tirade of accusations and blusters back, all intermingled together to be indecipherable. So in order to speak their language, I fired three shots into the leading sergeant, taking out his legs. He screamed in agony and hit the floor, far harder than Sel had, I was satisfied to acknowledge.

My aim went directly to the officer, and my look stopped him cold.

"You struck my man!" He said, aghast. There was the promise of violence in his eyes. "Colonel or no, you'll pay for this."

"You first." I said evenly, not even deigning to acknowledge the ridiculous 'Colonel.' It was clear they would advance no further, and I knelt down to free Sel. Taking out my boot knife, I cut her bonds. Bruised and concussed, she was still as tough as ever, rising to her feet after a brief shaking of her limbs. "Are you alright?"

"I think so, sir." She remarked shakily. "Damned parade groun-" Sel stopped herself, but I grinned at the curse.

"We'll sort it out." I promised her, my eyes on the officer's.