MuseMart

MuseMart » The Writing Room

1. 

   Audrey
   Head Muse

   Okay, so, a while back my friend Micah ran a campaign of the game system Burning Wheel... he created his own world and back story... it was an excellent game and all players involved enjoyed in emensly. Well, I found out recently that he kept notes about what was going to happen to us in the game and I decided to take those notes and what I rememberd and write out the campaign as a short story... (the other players also decided to do it and then see how the versions differed)

   Here's what I have of the prologue written, it's basically going to introduce my friends Dawn and Jeffs characters. I will then get to my character, who ended up being the focal point of the game... This section is the tale of the young warrior Joaquin and how he gets introduced to the events that take place in the game. All these events are purely extrapolation on my part as they never occured in game, I'm taking them from what Jeff said about his background and that of his peoples culture.

   Joaquin
   

   so here it is, the in-progress prologue to an as yet unnamed story... it's just the first section... more will be posted as I finish it. I didn't spell check this....

   *********************

   THE FOUR AMULETS

   PROLOGUE

   "FALL BACK!" the young man yelled from his vantage point atop his warhorse, sword raised above his head. It didn't take his small band of troops long to obey, the seemingly endless stream of Orcs coming through the pass being plenty of incentive.

   The man stood in his sturrips, making sure his men beat a hastey retreat. The Orcs were slow to respond to the temporary advantage, the mouth of the pass being near choked with the bodies of the fallen, man and Orc. A few Orcish arrows did follow the retreat soldiers, some hitting their targets and driving barbed tips deep into the soft flesh of those few unlucky souls.

   "TO THE HILLS!" the mounted man yelled over the din as one of the grotesque black arrows pierced his upper arm. The man gritted his teeth as he turned his horse and joined his men. More arrows followed the group but fell mercifully short.

   The soldiers made good time through the hills and woods that butted up against the pass. Only the young man on his horse had any difficulty navigating the dense woods, but he knew his route, had studied and rode the track numerous times.

   The sound of pursuing Orcs followed the men, the curses of creatures unused to forest travel echoing across the vale. A thunderous wave of gutteral yells and harse battle cries bearing down on the tired men.

   They kept on for what seemed like ages until the young man spotted the caern that he himself had set just that morning. “A & B, flank, C with me,” he ordered “just beyond the treeline!” As the group broke into the small clearing that had been their camp they obeyed the shouted commands. Maneuvers they’d practiced for near on a week were executed flawlessly. The man rode to the far end of the clearing and wheeled his horse around, a third of his troops fanning out behind him. He raised his sword, his arm throbbing from the arrow wound, and waited. His head was light from loss of blood and his legs cramped from the flight, but he had to push on through it, had to see this through. He’d has worse in the course of this war against the evil of the east, besides, once this was done he could a much needed and much deserved rest. Or so he hoped.

   But all thoughts of rest, all thoughts of pain were pushed from his mind as the first Orcs burst through the woods into the clearing. Soon the whole horde was pouring into the space he had picked.

   Some of his men hesitated, wanting to rush the Orcs, wanting to meet them head on. But their common sense and trust of the man kept them from charging in to their deaths.

   “Hold,” he said, just loud enough for the nearest to hear “hold.” But soon the Orcs passed the narrow and shallow ditch that had been dug, also that morning, and his sword came down in a smooth sweeping motion, “ALAI!!!!” he yelled with all his force as his horse reared up at his command.

   At the shouted word arrows sprang from the forest on both sides of the clearing, slamming into the Orcs on the outside as the remainder of his troops crashed into the horde from the rear, effectively cutting them off from any possible retreat while the men still lived. But the Orcs near the head paid no heed to their dying fellows, they had their target and pressed on, towards the man an his small contingent.

   Again the sword rose, and wavered slightly as the pain struck him, but he stayed on his horse and stared into the eye of the nearest Orc. “C forward!!” he commanded as he spurred his horse towards the foul creatures. As he neared the forward most Orc his sword dropped, cleaving into the beasts skull, bone and blood spraying out from the wound as the creature dropped. His men also met this charge, both the front and the rear, fighting bravely, swords and axes slamming into the green-skinned horrors. The archers had moved out from the woods as well, firing their short bows until they had no more arrows, then drawing their shortswords and joining the fray.

   It seemed forever, but in only minutes the Orish horde had been reduced to a mass of green and red. But they had gone down fighting, for every Orc that lay in the clearing, two men also laid, dead. It was a hefty toll the men of the Insmarch had paid that day, but also was it a victory, something that was becoming ever more rare in the relentless war that was plaguing their land. And that alone made it a good day…

   KING ISMAEL stood, bent over the heavy folding table that took up nearly half the space in his black and gray striped campaign tent. Papers covered every square inch of the tables’ heavily scarred surface. Maps, reconnaissance, expense accounts, casualty reports, all the trappings of a typical war spilled over the edges. Though this war was far from typical. In a typical war you knew who you enemy was, who the leaders were, you knew their skill and strength of arms. You could guess when and where they would attack. In a typical war your enemy would give up, would fall back and regroup, your enemy would attempt to err on the side of caution. This was anything but a typical war.

   Ever since the darkness had taken root in the East a seemingly endless stream of Orcs. goblins and other horrible creatures had swarmed into the southern Kingdom of Insmarch, killing indiscriminately, attacking farms and villages with no concern for their own casualties. Most of the Kingdom now lay in ruin, once prosperous towns now infested with the evil denizens. The army of Insmarch, such as it now was, and what was left the Kingdoms citizens had been pushed further West and North, nearly to the edge of it’s borders, the people having to abandon the lands that had been their homes for generations uncountable.

   “Your Majesty?” came a voice from the tent flap, pulling the King out of his reverie. He raised his head to look at the young page he had sent out yesterday morning, the young boy was soaking wet, his cloak carelessly thrown back, hair plastered to his forehead from the rain that fell. “Your Majesty,” the page said again “I found him.”

   The King straightened, easing his back as he spoke “Well bring him in then Elias, I didn’t have you track him down and bring him all the way here so he could be left standing in the rain.”

   “Yes, your Majesty,” the boy said hurriedly as he pulled aside the tent flap and motioned towards the King “You may enter, sir.”

   The young man who had been waiting outside in the rain entered and pulled back his hood as he kneeled. His dark hair was tied back into braid that hung down his back, the braid was a little worse for wear, as were his clothes, travel-stained and in need of much mending, the left arm of his once nice wool coat stained crimson with once dried blood, now again wet from the rain, a bandage bulging out the stained coat sleeve. His riding boots were scuffed from much recent use, mud caking the heels, coating his spurs. “You call, Sire, and thus I come,” the young man said, right fist pressed to his chest.

   “Leave us, Elias,” the King said, dismissing the young page “I must speak with this man alone.” The page hesitated, glancing at the kneeling man “Leave us, Elias, if I am not safe with this man then nowhere am I safe.” The page hesitated again but trusted his king judgement, and with a bow, fist to chest, he passed through the tent flap into the stormy night. The King watched the flap fall, shutting out the cold night. The King walked around the table, “Stand up son,” he said as he gripped the young mans shoulder. “It’s good to see you’re okay, son,” he walked over to a small side table on which stood a battered silver pitcher, steam rising from it “You look like you could use something to drink,” he filled two just as battered goblets “Mulled wine?” he asked as he held it out to the young man.

   “Thank you sire, yes,” the man said as he accepted the goblet. He held the cup but didn’t not drink, “Pardon my asking sire, but why am I here? I should be with my men…”

   “They are no longer your men, son,” the king said, cutting him off, setting his goblet down, “I’ve assigned a new commander. Amilcar has been dispatched,” The king held up his hand, forestalling the young mans objection “He will be bring the troops back here to rejoin with the rest of the army.” He turned and shuffled through a sheef of paper on the table “At which point we will be removing ourselves from the area and into the Western wilds,”

   “Sire,” the young man interrupted “Do you mean to tell me you’re withdrawing the army and the people from the Kingdom? Running to the hills and hiding?!” warm liquid spilled over his hand, the goblet now a crushed mass of silver in his tensed fist.

   “What I’m telling you, son, is that we are falling back and assessing our losses,” he took the ruined goblet from the young mans hand “We cannot win this war, not alone, and every day we stay and fight more of my people die, people who I will need when we are ready to take our land back.” He set the goblet down and turned back to the young man “Which is where you come in. You have the makings of a great commander, son, but right now I don’t need commanders, I need reinforcements, I need people of like mind who will not only help remove this evil from our land, but take the war to the one in charge, and remove this darkness forever.” He sighed “But I do not have those people here. I need you to travel into the other Kingdoms, and tell the people of our plight, warm them that if they do not act they will be next. The darkness has no concern of borders, it will spread until it covers the whole land. That cannot be aloud to happen.”

   “Sire, I’m not a diplomat, I’m not a great speaker. Surely there are others better qualified for such a task.”

   “There were, yes, but they were the first dead when the Orcs came, they tried, at my bidding, to reason with the creatures.” He picked up his own goblet and drank “But even if I still had those men I would not send them. They were speakers, true, but they would not have been the ones fighting the creatures. They would know only of numbers, percentage of losses. You know what these monsters are capable of,” he motioned to the young man’s arm “You have seen first had their tenacity and their available power. Something a diplomat would not be able to convey.” He turned back to the table “You are not the only one I’m sending, son. So do not think this war rests solely on your shoulders. When Amilcar returns he will be heading to the West, into Carnaciin. Perla will be heading to the South, into the Kingdom of the Serpent Sands. And Severo will be going with you, North, and then parting company and heading East, into Braile and the Elven kingdom.” The King stepped forward and placed his hand on the young mans shoulder “You will then turn to the West, over the mountains into Uurland. Myself and the rest fo the forces will be following you."

   “It will take time, Sire. Not just for the travel but for the mustering as well. The people will not be easy to convince. They will not care about something that does not yet threaten them.”

   The King squeezed his shoulder “Then you must make them see that what does not threaten the today will threaten them tomorrow, and the only way to keep themselves safe is to deal with the threat before it’s upon them. Once an enemy is inside your walls the battle is all but over. You will not be doing this alone, I assure you. Myself and the rest of the forces will be following you within the week." The King paused "This is not an exile I go into willingly, but it is what must be done if we are to have any people left to rebuild later" He clapped the young mans shoulder “Now go, you have a lot of work to do to get prepared. You have a week to gather your supplies and choose which men you’re taking with you. Choose eight who will accompany you.”

   ***********************************

   Comments please!!

   Posted 3 years ago #
2. 

   Audrey
   Head Muse

   Originally posted by Gumshoe:

   Nice opening. I especially like the dialogue, has a nice fantasy feel to it for some reason.

   Posted 3 years ago #
3. 

   Audrey
   Head Muse

   Originally posted by Tensen01:

   Thanks... now if only I can get past my own characters introduction.

   Dawn's will be problematic as I don't remember her charaters name or even much about her.

   Posted 3 years ago #

RSS feed for this topic

Reply

You must log in to post.