Zaath
Myrmidon
"We all make choices, but in the end, our choices will inevitably make us."
Posts: 31
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Post by Zaath on Aug 5, 2009 14:37:44 GMT -6
Zaath had finally arrived in the town that was only a small blur not but two hours ago. He was now in Lycia. After a quick contemplation, he decided he would purchase provisions the next day and relax tonight, something he did not often do. Once he entered the nearest Inn, he found what he usually did. Drunks stumbling out. People of both genders and veritable ages playing drinking games and the like. Bartenders playing therapist with someone they forgot to cut off. A normally friendly atmosphere.
He could feel the energy swirling around him as he asked the Innkeeper how much a room was, and was pleased that he wasn’t price gouging. “Hey friend, If you’re going up north, watch out for them, uh, oh ya, Black Blade fellows.” “Black Blade?” Zaath asked, “Who are they” “There a bunch of cri*hic*criminals!” A rather tanked man sitting to Zaath’s right blurted out. “They’re Bandits, and damn dangerous too. They’re spread out all over northern Lycia, eastern Etruia, western Sacae and Southern Ilia. If you see an image of a black sword crossing over a chain, steer clear” The Innkeeper said in a worried voice. “I’ll make sure to be careful. Thanks for the warning.” As Zaath walked to his room he could hear whispers involving the gang. “Another trade caravan got hit up north…” “The destroyed a village in Sacae..!” “When is the military...?” None of it was Zaath’s concern, unless they where his contractors, or contract.
Zaath walked up to his room and found a well kept, clean bed awaiting him. There was a lantern, which he lit, open shutters on the windows and a chest at the foot of the bed where he stored his things. He began to make a final illustration in his map of the Nabata and wrote in his log about the day and what he had heard about the Bandits which he hoped he would not have to deal with.
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Zaath
Myrmidon
"We all make choices, but in the end, our choices will inevitably make us."
Posts: 31
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Post by Zaath on Aug 5, 2009 14:56:27 GMT -6
Zaath continued his journey to the Northern region of Lycia. He had decided to Pass through the mountains on his way to Ilia and he would postpone his efforts on mapping the Nabata. Zaath set of from the Inn and re supplied in the local market. Now it was quite evident that he needed to make some cash in an interesting and maybe even politically rewarding way… mercenary work. Zaath was simply walking down a small road and reflecting on his past when a large dog stepped out and blocked the way. Zaath was a little surprised, but not afraid. He hoped that their meeting would not end in confrontation. “Excuse me,” Zaath started, “You are blocking my path, and I would be most appreciative if you would move.” The dog did not budge, but it did have a worried look on its face. “What do you want?” Zaath asked the dog. The dog barked and trotted off, Zaath closely following, which he assumed he should do, judging by how the dog kept looking back at him. Eventually, I led him to a cliff side. Zaath looked down and was very surprised to see a small village… burning.
Bandits where streaming in and out of the small settlement. What can I do? Zaath asked himself. I am only one man… Zaath felt frustrated by his inability to save the town. But he could not just stand there and watch. Action had to be taken! Zaath slowly climbed down the Cliffside until he reached the base. Zaath faced the town, now able to see bodies in the streets and hear the cries of the defenseless villagers. It sickened Zaath and filled him with rage. Against his better judgment, he descended in to the burning village.
Zaath stopped at the first intersection and looked around. He could smell the smoke and death, as it hung heavy in the air. At the sight of the body of a villager who had been hacked to death with an axe, a memory rushed into his mind: Running from a large animal and slipping down a muddy grade, falling next to a mutilated corpse. “RAAAAH!” Zaath screamed as he charged the first of the brigands he saw.
The bandit did not even have time to draw his weapon before Zaath swung his sword as hard as he could into the bandit’s neck, beheading him. His rage subsiding, he heard a cry come forth from one of the burning houses. Zaath pulled his hood over his head and rammed the door to the house down, hot embers cascading down his cloak. He located the source of the cry: a boy, no more the eight, was trapped under a fallen beam. “Everything will be all right” Zaath told the boy, as he placed his hands on the beam. The boy’s cries perpetuated Zaaths strength, and with all of his might, Zaath pulled the beam away from the tyke just long enough to pull him out of the rubble. Just as Zaath exited the house, it collapsed, dust and ash showering Zaath who was carrying the boy out to safety.
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Zaath
Myrmidon
"We all make choices, but in the end, our choices will inevitably make us."
Posts: 31
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Post by Zaath on Aug 5, 2009 14:58:56 GMT -6
Zaath carried the young boy all the way to the cliff face he had scaled earlier. He found the dog waiting for him. What a curious dog. He left the boy next to the dog and ran back into the village. Shortly after making his second venture into the village, an arrow whizzed past his head, nicking his left ear. Zaath dashed behind a broken wagon just before the second arrow flew by, barley missing his gut. Zaath quickly prairie dogged his head out which was met by another arrow, grazing his scalp. “Damn!” Zaath shouted as he retrieved a vulnerary from his satchel and choked down about a third of the brew. Zaath sprinted towards the archer who was standing not but forty feet away. Zaath zigzagged through the hail of arrows and just barley sliced the archer’s stomach open before the bandit let another arrow fly.
After rescuing a few more villagers from the desolate village, Zaath set off to hunt down more of the bandits. Zaath figured he could use some blade practice, and he figures if he’s going to practice, why not on illiterate scum? Zaath jogged through the village, looking for blood, and he found it. Two bandits just finished looting a house, but stopped short when they saw him. He sprinted forward, blade unsheathed and rage in mind. Zaath had a tendency of becoming someone else in battle. Something… more like a beast than a man. He always had to keep his adrenalin in check, so as to not fall into an animalistic state. He assaulted the first of the two with deadly force. He swung his sword down quickly, but changed direction in mid swing, changing to horizontal and driving his sword horizontally into the man’s ribs. The brigand was not dead, but would die in several minutes if he could hold on that long. The next bandit attacked Zaath, thrusting his spear towards him and almost making contact with Zaaths throat. Zaath countered with a diagonal strike to the Man’s head, but the raider blocked the strike.
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Zaath
Myrmidon
"We all make choices, but in the end, our choices will inevitably make us."
Posts: 31
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Post by Zaath on Aug 5, 2009 15:00:41 GMT -6
Suddenly, Zaath was eleven again. He was running through a rainy forest, the mud cold on his bare feet. The monsters where chasing him. The ones Zaath had dreamt about. Zaath looked back and saw one of the monsters eating his brother, ripping one of his arms off. Wait, I have a brother? The fear in Zaaths heart increased as he began to run faster. He could feel the mist cling to his skin and he ran through the dark thicket. Wait, he could see a river ahead! If he could just get too the river… He arrived at the edge of an overhang above the river, just as he turned and saw a monster pounce on him, striking his head with one of its paws… claws… hands? Zaath couldn’t tell. The beast struck Zaath and sent him plummeting ten feet to the ground. He hit the wet mud very hard and could feel his breath escape him. He just laid there for what seemed like an eternity with a numbness covering him. Eventually he passed out. When he awoke, a kind looking man was watching over him, and Zaath was safe.
Zaath exited the trance to find himself hacking the body of the lance wielder with his sword. Zaath halted the mutilation of the bandit’s cadaver and looked over to the other brigand, who had a mortified look on his face. “What is the name of your gang!?” Zaath shouted at the bandit, “Tell me and I’ll ease you’re descent to hell..!” “*Cough*, we’re… the Black b-Blade…*cough* and you’re… and you’re a dead man! No one kills a member… member of the Black…” The man expelled his last spew of blood and died. “Black blade… This could be interesting.” Zaath muttered to himself.
Zaath spotted one of the Gangs scouts and rushed him on the un-awares. The brigand had just enough time to turn around watch as Zaath blade ripped through his throat. Zaath left the village after helping the village scrounge for some supplies. He assisted them in dressing their wounds and building a small shelter as well. In the end Zaath was a little grateful to this “Black Blade” for helping him remember some of his past. It was finally time to set off again, and Zaath felt more haunted than ever.
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Zaath
Myrmidon
"We all make choices, but in the end, our choices will inevitably make us."
Posts: 31
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Post by Zaath on Aug 5, 2009 18:28:38 GMT -6
Zaath was now at the front of the mountain range. As he was entering, he noticed a group of travelers, perhaps a trader caravan, approach from the west. “Ahoy!” One of them called out to Zaath, “you look like you’ve got some muscle on ya’!” “I know my way around a battle if that’s what you mean.” Zaath responded to the man, a loud and muscular man whom Zaath assumed from his armor was a guard. “Well, If you’re passing through the mountains, we could use an extra sword, If you know what I mean! We’ll pay you, feed you and give you a ride, so long as you lend us a hand.” “I guess some traveling companions couldn’t hurt. Nor a little compensation, sure. But when we exit the mountains, you’re on your own.” “Right, fifteen in coin to help us through the range! You know, we weren’t sure just three guards would put up against those bandits, god forbid we run into em’!” “Right, let’s get a move on!” Called out one of the traders. “Well, shall we?” Zaath asked the guard. “Right! Oh, and the names Thomas!” “Alright, Thomas. My names Zaath.”
Zaath sat down on the side of the wagons the traders were using to transport their wares. He learned after a bit of conversing with the travelers that they are in fact merchants. Fairley prosperous as well, they set out from Ostia to Etruia and have often used this mountain pass to export everything from armor and arms to produce and scrolls. The pass is particularly dangerous due to the fact that the wooden framework built on the path and around the mountain walls to prevent mud and rock slides as heavily eroded and rotted due to the fact it hasn’t been replaced in a couple decades. The rain up in this particular range has softened both the dirt and the framework to a dangerous point.
Zaath eventually crawled into one of the wagons with a guard and a few of the traders and began to eat his dinner and talk with his companions. “So, have any of you heard of the Black Blade?” one of the merchants queried. “I did in an Inn once…” Zaath began, “I’ve seen the product of their blood thirst first-hand as well. I found a village not too long ago and the villagers claimed that the desolate state the village was in was the work of the Black Blade… (Lying) Though I’ve never seen the brigands myself.” “How bad of shape was the village in?” asked one of the guards. “Practically leveled. I tried to help the villagers remaining gather supplies, but the village itself was in such bad condition… All I could really do was help the build a shack for the injured. I did find them a few things though.” “Man…” was all the guard could say in response. After Zaath finished his meal (A slice of peppered beef, a baked potato and a glass of wine(Zaath never drinks enough to get drunk) He decided to go to bed. “It’s time for me retire, thank you for the conversation.” Zaath crawled to the back of the wagon, pulled a blanket over himself and rested his head on a sack of grain.
“Zaath, wake up!!!” Thomas shouted at Zaath, “Get out of bed; we’re in the middle of a mudslide!” “Wh… what the hell..?” Thomas pulled Zaath up and smacked him in the face, “We have to RUN!” CRASH! A boulder blew through the top of the wagon and smashed Thomas’s head, knocking him out “Ah..! Oh $hit!” Zaath looked up at the sliding cliff face to his left through the gaping hole in the wagons canvas to see the Monsters standing atop the cliff. “AHH!” Zaath screamed out in fear. He unsheathed his blade while shouting to a guard “Do you see that!?” “See what?” the guard responded, “The Mudslide?” “No, there’s… some form of beast standing on the cliff!” “Zaath, get it together! We need to get out of-.” One of the monsters pounced down the guard, crushing him just before bounding down the drop off to Zaath’s right. “Oh… oh my god..!” Zaath jumped off the wagon, shortly followed by one of the ghastly beasts. Within ten feet of Zaath, the creature turned into… a large chunk of the cliff side? It smashed into Zaath just after he realized that all the monsters where in fact just boulders and mud clumps.
Zaath tumbled down the hill at great speed, smacking into every grade in the muddy cliff side. He attempted to dig his fingers into the drop off’s side, but his fingers ran right through the wet muck. That is, until his hand snagged on a root, which ripped out of the Cliffside when stressed by Zaath’s weight. Though it tore loose, It slowed his momentum just enough to keep him from breaking any bones on contact with the ground. He laid there, feeling numb and tired, detritus raining down around him. It was not long before he lost conciseness. When he awoke he found himself lying next to a river. The rain had stopped, but his body was riddled with aches and bruises. He got up slowly to prevent himself from passing out. Shortly after he steadied himself, he looked down at himself and saw that he was covered with mud. He draped his cloak and satchel on top of a fallen boulder and removed all of his clothing, placed the articles in a shallow part of the river and began to wash them. He thought that he way contract hypothermia if he did this, but he knew that he’s healthy and has a strong immune system, and could also just curl up in his cloak while his clothing dried. He sat there for the entire day until his clothing was dry, then proceeded to wash his cloak. Something about the coolness of the river side made him experience déjà vu. Once he had washed the immense cloak out he tucked it under his arm and continued his march northward.
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