Dragon Skull
03-12-2006, 08:54 AM
[for those who dont know, merc is short for mercenary]
Late was the hour at the Salted Swine tavern. It was full of noise and life. Bards sung tales of glory and fame. Travelers exchanged stories of their adventures. The bar wenches served the patrons, enduring a lecherous comment here and there. Gamblers played their crooked card games in the darkest corners of the room. Outside, the rain poured from the sky as if the gods were trying to flood the land. In to the tavern stepped a man, dreched to the bone, in a black cloak with the hood over his head, concealing his face. He walked to the fire place, found an empty table near it, and sat down. He removed his leather gloves and tried to warm his hands, rubbing them together and opening his palms to the warmth of the fire. He took off his quiver of arrows and bow and placed them in front of him, leaning them on the wall. One of the serving wenches noticed the man sitting by the fire. She walked up to him. "Can I get ye a drink to warm yer soul, my lord?" The man looked up at her with with dark eyes. "No thank you, I'm fine", replied the man. "Alright then, let me know when ye want somethin'." The wench walked off and went about business as usual. The man looked back to the fire, staring into it. He was lost deep in thought, the noise of the tavern was drown out by his ponderings.
As the man sat there, ignorant to the world around him, a group of large, unsavory looking men entered the tavern. One of the wenches nudged another and noded to the men. "Oh look whos 'ere again. Its Cragus and his boys" said the one wench to the other. "An' as usual, looks like hes wantin' for a fight", replied the other wench. Cragus scanned the room with his one good eye. He noticed the man by the fire, sitting alone. "Easy pickins'", Cragus though to himself. He signaled his men to make their way over to the man sitting by the fire. Cragus and his men walked right up to the man by the fire. "EH', you!" Cragus shouted in the mans ear. The man looked up at him. "This be our table, MOVE!", commanded Cragus. The man just turned back to the fire, ignoring the brute. "Oh, a brave one we've got 'ere men." "Maybe 'es just deaf", replied one of Cragus' men. "You know wha', me thinks your right". Cragus then give the chair the man was sitting in a good kick, knocking the man to the floor. The tavern erupted in laughter. "Now do you hear me, ye deaf whelp?!", said Cragus. The man stood to his feet. Peering from under his hood, the mans dark eyes locked on Cragus and Cragus alone. Everything elese went black. The man pushed back his cloak, revealing his sword. He then walked right up to Cragus' face. The smell was revolting. "Wot' got sumthin' to say have ye", said Cragus. "Step....out.....side", replied the man through clenched teeth. The man then put on his gloves, picked up his bow and quiver, and proceeded to exit the tavern, into the cold rain. "Hehehehe, this is gonna' be easy," chuckled Cragus. Outside, the rain seemed to have picked up. Cragus, who only had one good eye, was having a hard time seeing. The man in the cloak drew a long sword, with a curved serrated blade and also a dagger. The man took an unusual stance, one that Cragus had never seen before. The hooded man, holding his sword in an under handed fashion, raised the sword up so that it crossed his mid section and ran along his fore arm. His other arm, which weilded the dagger, went behind his back. Patrons were watching from inside the tavern. One of the old men in the tavern recognized the stand of the hooded man. "Oh, Cragus picked a fine opponent this time". "What are you talking about, old man?", asked one of the on-lookers. "hehe, that man out there was trained by Alexi Ivan Ranshikov, one of the great generals of the royal army. Yep, ol' Ranshikov trained his men well. Left a great legacy with that stance too." The other on-looker looked on in astonishment. "So thats the infamous Ranshikov's Roulet stance. Never thought id ever see it. Not since Ranshikov's death, anyway. They say he took the secret of the stance to his grave." "Aye, he did, and none of his men are alive to tell how to use it either" replied the old man. "Who ever this man is, he could only have learned it from Ranshikov himself."
Back outside, Cragus began to laugh. "Wha the bloody hell you call that?" laughed Cragus as he pointed at the man. Cragus drew his sword and the two men began to circle one another. Cragus' men surrounded them. The fight had begun.......
[to be continued]
Late was the hour at the Salted Swine tavern. It was full of noise and life. Bards sung tales of glory and fame. Travelers exchanged stories of their adventures. The bar wenches served the patrons, enduring a lecherous comment here and there. Gamblers played their crooked card games in the darkest corners of the room. Outside, the rain poured from the sky as if the gods were trying to flood the land. In to the tavern stepped a man, dreched to the bone, in a black cloak with the hood over his head, concealing his face. He walked to the fire place, found an empty table near it, and sat down. He removed his leather gloves and tried to warm his hands, rubbing them together and opening his palms to the warmth of the fire. He took off his quiver of arrows and bow and placed them in front of him, leaning them on the wall. One of the serving wenches noticed the man sitting by the fire. She walked up to him. "Can I get ye a drink to warm yer soul, my lord?" The man looked up at her with with dark eyes. "No thank you, I'm fine", replied the man. "Alright then, let me know when ye want somethin'." The wench walked off and went about business as usual. The man looked back to the fire, staring into it. He was lost deep in thought, the noise of the tavern was drown out by his ponderings.
As the man sat there, ignorant to the world around him, a group of large, unsavory looking men entered the tavern. One of the wenches nudged another and noded to the men. "Oh look whos 'ere again. Its Cragus and his boys" said the one wench to the other. "An' as usual, looks like hes wantin' for a fight", replied the other wench. Cragus scanned the room with his one good eye. He noticed the man by the fire, sitting alone. "Easy pickins'", Cragus though to himself. He signaled his men to make their way over to the man sitting by the fire. Cragus and his men walked right up to the man by the fire. "EH', you!" Cragus shouted in the mans ear. The man looked up at him. "This be our table, MOVE!", commanded Cragus. The man just turned back to the fire, ignoring the brute. "Oh, a brave one we've got 'ere men." "Maybe 'es just deaf", replied one of Cragus' men. "You know wha', me thinks your right". Cragus then give the chair the man was sitting in a good kick, knocking the man to the floor. The tavern erupted in laughter. "Now do you hear me, ye deaf whelp?!", said Cragus. The man stood to his feet. Peering from under his hood, the mans dark eyes locked on Cragus and Cragus alone. Everything elese went black. The man pushed back his cloak, revealing his sword. He then walked right up to Cragus' face. The smell was revolting. "Wot' got sumthin' to say have ye", said Cragus. "Step....out.....side", replied the man through clenched teeth. The man then put on his gloves, picked up his bow and quiver, and proceeded to exit the tavern, into the cold rain. "Hehehehe, this is gonna' be easy," chuckled Cragus. Outside, the rain seemed to have picked up. Cragus, who only had one good eye, was having a hard time seeing. The man in the cloak drew a long sword, with a curved serrated blade and also a dagger. The man took an unusual stance, one that Cragus had never seen before. The hooded man, holding his sword in an under handed fashion, raised the sword up so that it crossed his mid section and ran along his fore arm. His other arm, which weilded the dagger, went behind his back. Patrons were watching from inside the tavern. One of the old men in the tavern recognized the stand of the hooded man. "Oh, Cragus picked a fine opponent this time". "What are you talking about, old man?", asked one of the on-lookers. "hehe, that man out there was trained by Alexi Ivan Ranshikov, one of the great generals of the royal army. Yep, ol' Ranshikov trained his men well. Left a great legacy with that stance too." The other on-looker looked on in astonishment. "So thats the infamous Ranshikov's Roulet stance. Never thought id ever see it. Not since Ranshikov's death, anyway. They say he took the secret of the stance to his grave." "Aye, he did, and none of his men are alive to tell how to use it either" replied the old man. "Who ever this man is, he could only have learned it from Ranshikov himself."
Back outside, Cragus began to laugh. "Wha the bloody hell you call that?" laughed Cragus as he pointed at the man. Cragus drew his sword and the two men began to circle one another. Cragus' men surrounded them. The fight had begun.......
[to be continued]