Alexander
That is not dead which can eternal lie
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I wake up, and this beautiful day starts with a most dreadful migraine.
"Ooh, my head..." I open my eyes only to shut them almost immediately, the light from the sun pounding my skull like one of Torch's warhammers. As I sit down my hands come up and remove the helm, allowing me to massage my temples to ward off the headache.
Wait a moment. My helm? I never sleep with my helm: it would be too uncomfortable to sleep properly. The only way...would be fainting!
My eyes shot open and I scan my surroundings. I am resting next to a small street in the middle of a forest. But the trees...they aren't anything like I have ever seen. Granted I am not an expert, but I traveled around Wadenstein and nearby countries enough that I have become familiar with a lot of different environments. The air is warm but not too humid, meaning I am in the East.
I check myself: my armor is fine (as it should: I have it repaired just two days ago), my shield is on my left forearm and my sword still in its sheath. The helm is fine too. I open my pouch, finding some gold coins.
All in all there is nothing wrong with me. How did I end here then? Think...think...
Now I remember! The Vicarius told me about a rogue wizard terrorizing a small village. I was a simple mission, so I went alone without taking with me any of the men from my squad. Once there it was easy tracking down the knave. He tried to fight me off, but after seeing that no spell worked on my armor he ran away. I chased him into a cave...a strange altar...then nothing. Absolute darkness.
What happened to me?
My musings are cut short as I hear a familiar sound: the gallop of horses. On a road, this means people! I stand up, shaking off the last trace of my migraine, holds my helm to my left side and walk toward the road.
However, my hopes of finding answers dwindle as the raiders come into view: the men riding the horses, an unfamiliar breed, are armed but instead of armors they are wearing tattered clothes. Some of them have a plate placed into strategic points like the hearth, but they're too thin: any good grandsword would break through it like wood. Another strange detail is the coloration of their skin: it's slightly yellow, and their facial structure...
I realize with dread that I may be more distant from home than I thought.
The raider at the head raises a hand as he sees me, and the others stop their horses. "Well, well, well..." He grins. "What do we have there?"
"Salutations." I say as politely as possible. "It appears I am lost. This land is unknown to me. Could you please help me?"
"Of course. We will help you right away." He gestures, and the others get down and swiftly surround me, weapons pointed at me.
I sigh. Why can't thing be easy for a change. "I suggest you change your mind. This is an unwise course of action."
"Watch your mouth!" The leader snarls. "I won't be patronized by a filthily foreigner!"
"Filthily? If my nose is not deceiving me the only ones filthily are your lot." I retort back.
The shouts in rage and charges at me, his sword hold high.
My shield comes up and smashes into his face, breaking his nose. "Idiot. If you are going to ambush someone, be silent while you're doing it."
Two more attack me from the front. I parry their spears with my shield and with a swift movement draw my sword, slicing through their weapons like butter.
"Normally I try to be merciful. After all condemning people to death is the judge's job." I say to their stupefied faces before I cut off their heads. "But brigands like you, ready to rob a lost man, are not worthy of mercy!"
What follow next is not a battle, but a massacre: the difference in skills between them and me is too great. It's true I am wearing heavier armor, but I wore one for so many years that it isn't an impediment anymore.
With a final thrust I plunge my sword into the leader's chest, killing him instantly, while my other hand takes the horse's reins.
I stop and relax a little, then I collect the bodies and arrange them in a neat file next to the road. I can't bury them, so this is the only service I can offer. "Now your fate is in the hands of the gods." I recite the traditional formula.
Then I mount the leader's horse and start galloping in the direction the bandits were going to. Almost a hour later I reach the end of the forest.
What greet me is a small village, the houses build in a style completely foreign to me. Around it are many fields, for some strange reason covered by a sheen of water, and walking between them are more people with a yellow tone of skin.
It's official. I have no idea where the hell I am.
"Torumoshdag, help..." I offer a prayer to my god, but I doubt he can do something: he's the God of Valor, Combat, Defense and Victory, not the God of Lost Wanderers.
What should I do now?
[] Communicate with the locals.
[] Wait at the edge of the forest and observe them for a little.
[] Write-in.
----
"Ooh, my head..." I open my eyes only to shut them almost immediately, the light from the sun pounding my skull like one of Torch's warhammers. As I sit down my hands come up and remove the helm, allowing me to massage my temples to ward off the headache.
Wait a moment. My helm? I never sleep with my helm: it would be too uncomfortable to sleep properly. The only way...would be fainting!
My eyes shot open and I scan my surroundings. I am resting next to a small street in the middle of a forest. But the trees...they aren't anything like I have ever seen. Granted I am not an expert, but I traveled around Wadenstein and nearby countries enough that I have become familiar with a lot of different environments. The air is warm but not too humid, meaning I am in the East.
I check myself: my armor is fine (as it should: I have it repaired just two days ago), my shield is on my left forearm and my sword still in its sheath. The helm is fine too. I open my pouch, finding some gold coins.
All in all there is nothing wrong with me. How did I end here then? Think...think...
Now I remember! The Vicarius told me about a rogue wizard terrorizing a small village. I was a simple mission, so I went alone without taking with me any of the men from my squad. Once there it was easy tracking down the knave. He tried to fight me off, but after seeing that no spell worked on my armor he ran away. I chased him into a cave...a strange altar...then nothing. Absolute darkness.
What happened to me?
My musings are cut short as I hear a familiar sound: the gallop of horses. On a road, this means people! I stand up, shaking off the last trace of my migraine, holds my helm to my left side and walk toward the road.
However, my hopes of finding answers dwindle as the raiders come into view: the men riding the horses, an unfamiliar breed, are armed but instead of armors they are wearing tattered clothes. Some of them have a plate placed into strategic points like the hearth, but they're too thin: any good grandsword would break through it like wood. Another strange detail is the coloration of their skin: it's slightly yellow, and their facial structure...
I realize with dread that I may be more distant from home than I thought.
The raider at the head raises a hand as he sees me, and the others stop their horses. "Well, well, well..." He grins. "What do we have there?"
"Salutations." I say as politely as possible. "It appears I am lost. This land is unknown to me. Could you please help me?"
"Of course. We will help you right away." He gestures, and the others get down and swiftly surround me, weapons pointed at me.
I sigh. Why can't thing be easy for a change. "I suggest you change your mind. This is an unwise course of action."
"Watch your mouth!" The leader snarls. "I won't be patronized by a filthily foreigner!"
"Filthily? If my nose is not deceiving me the only ones filthily are your lot." I retort back.
The shouts in rage and charges at me, his sword hold high.
My shield comes up and smashes into his face, breaking his nose. "Idiot. If you are going to ambush someone, be silent while you're doing it."
Two more attack me from the front. I parry their spears with my shield and with a swift movement draw my sword, slicing through their weapons like butter.
"Normally I try to be merciful. After all condemning people to death is the judge's job." I say to their stupefied faces before I cut off their heads. "But brigands like you, ready to rob a lost man, are not worthy of mercy!"
What follow next is not a battle, but a massacre: the difference in skills between them and me is too great. It's true I am wearing heavier armor, but I wore one for so many years that it isn't an impediment anymore.
With a final thrust I plunge my sword into the leader's chest, killing him instantly, while my other hand takes the horse's reins.
I stop and relax a little, then I collect the bodies and arrange them in a neat file next to the road. I can't bury them, so this is the only service I can offer. "Now your fate is in the hands of the gods." I recite the traditional formula.
Then I mount the leader's horse and start galloping in the direction the bandits were going to. Almost a hour later I reach the end of the forest.
What greet me is a small village, the houses build in a style completely foreign to me. Around it are many fields, for some strange reason covered by a sheen of water, and walking between them are more people with a yellow tone of skin.
It's official. I have no idea where the hell I am.
"Torumoshdag, help..." I offer a prayer to my god, but I doubt he can do something: he's the God of Valor, Combat, Defense and Victory, not the God of Lost Wanderers.
What should I do now?
[] Communicate with the locals.
[] Wait at the edge of the forest and observe them for a little.
[] Write-in.
----
Alexander and Introspective Tinkerer presents:
A Fantasy Knight in Feudal Japan
