Post by SwitchKun on Aug 6, 2008 11:55:45 GMT -6
In a dusky tavern, just a few miles off the coast of Gargan there sat two idle men conversing on the strangest matter…
“He never sleeps that one,” the first replied hand firmly gripped on his ale glass and his hat neatly placed upon his head, hiding his long gray hairs. “Nay, not alive I say for naught a man alive was so dead inside.” The second replied, taking a gulp from his cup and rubbing the short brown hairs atop his head and then let out the stress of the day in one hefty sigh.
“When he passes, the wind blows clod and harsh, rips through your skin, makes raw your bones and if ever you see a pair of eyes more devilish I’d say you’d be in hell.” He continued talk about the entity, so grim was his expression that no mirth could come forth.
“Whatever thought lies underneath his hood, be it of death or things more grim…” the first replied rubbing his belly and then straitening his collar as another man came walking over to them, his gait was that of a gentleman and his cane provide even more splendor to his being, but he was younger than the other two men, and only by the spirit of their conversation had he the means to bother them.
“Grimmer than death, what demon do you speak of, for I have never beheld such a man in my life?” the young man asked in a tone of mockery and the first man turned to him slightly annoyed, “Then you have not lived to see a deathly man, at least not traveled beyond the Grimdom flats where only virtuous paladins wander…” he replied mentioning the lands that bordered Gargan just a few miles from where they now stood. It was the most desolate place and many legends and myths came about from its depths.
“I am no Paladin, but since you’ve brought it up, educate me.” The young man retorted and the first man nodded as if to teach him a lesson of the matter. “Fair warning my friend, if you seek this man then death will knock you flat on your back and pray to Aelia you return!”
“On with it, if I believe in a bards tale!” the arrogant reply came.
“He has not a name, nor bears any insignia… but his soul sprout fear into the very minds of those who see him, but only when the sun goes off to bed and darkness reins the earth. Behind his cowl sinister and malicious thoughts manifest right before your very eyes and every town he visits- makes the fair ladies weep in fear for their husbands!” He ended with a crescendo and the young man let out a burst of laughter.
“What mockery!” he chided the elder man and began to drink his own pint.
“Aye he can’t tell it worth a sack of dirt.” The gray headed man replied finishing off his glass and turning to the newcomer. “The Thyalike they call him- not a traveler but a high wizard I say, a warlock of the abyss… but never have I been bold enough to seek the truth of him, for those who have tried perished, and even so those who might look upon perish…” he finished with the wave of his had as if showing how they disappear into thin air.
“Still, I won’t believe it, least he come inside looking for a pint!” the young man replied and the tavern roared with laughter, for now more and more of the tavern folks had gotten into the conversation and even though most of them were drunken fools.
“Yer to young!” the old man spat ordering another pint. “You sir, are naïve!” the younger man said with a tip of his hat.
“I’ll let you know just who the fool is here! When the Thyalike comes and sweeps you off to Necrain’s table!” he said in reference to the god of death. “Well, I’ll be damned then if the villain does exists…” another uproar of laughter and the two elder men waved their hands, to drunk to care now of whatever the young man claimed.
“Indeed gentlemen, I feel a wager is upon us! Now, pray tell, who is brave enough to prove old Gregory wrong? Not a soul I bet, and yet poor Gregory hasn’t got the guts to prove it otherwise… whoever can figure it out first is the winner!”
The patrons of the tavern thought this to be more funny than serious and the young man stood up and gave a short bow, “I’d rather not waste my time on such silly games, after all I am a gentleman!” at this, Gregory stood up and brought up his fists, now confused and dazed in his stupor. “And I’d rather not loose my life.”
The tavern burst out into another voluminous uproar of laughter when a silent man who was sitting in the corner watching them with careful eyes came about. “I’ll take the wager.” He stated and the crowd turned to look at the hooded man, who carried two broadswords on his back and had a skull hanging from a necklace. He wore gloves with holes cut into them and had many rings on, just dark bands with many runes and insignias on it.
“Pray sir, what do you speak of?” the young gentleman asked. “I could help but overhear your conversation… and so I accept the wager for in my mind there is no doubt that such a man exists… but I have the courage to look for him, now place your pieces if you dare.” He said challengingly and the young man looked over the man a few more times and then a smile crossed his face, “How do we know if you find the Thyalike or not?” Gregory asked and the man replied: “All that now of him have heard of the dark eyes of death… if I bring back the eyes then all shall know of the Thyalike, and its slayer…” there was a quiet chatter now betwixt the patrons and even the bartender stopped whipping the counter to hear what would conspire next.
“By the almighty gods, you’d be madder than any stone in the river… cast astray I say!” Gregory said with a silent prayer for he was a suspicious person. “If you bring the eye I will give you sixty pieces. Ha! It is a pity you will never behold it.” And the dark man nodded and left the tavern.
“We shall see…”
* * *
Quite a ways from the tavern and its tarry of laughter and merriment there stood two lone figured draped in bright orange clothing that symbolized their organization. They were paladins of Gargan, the last noble land of the interracial peoples, the ones who risked their lives day after day to protect the border from the savage creatures of the Grimdom Flats. Both were hunched over beside a gray rock in a clearing of a gray desolate forest. One had made a figure in a tiny hole in the ground and was roasting what looked like a dried newt.
“Nothing like a night out in the bleak tree sewn Grimdom Flats, eh Mita?” the cook asked his sullen companion who appeared to be asleep. Mita, as his companion had called him wore a straw pointed hat that covered up most of his young face. Across his back was a slim short sword that had long neatly cut ribbons on the end of it. “Sure.” Came the quick dull reply as Mita shuffled against the gray rock. “Ah! It is a grand age to be a paladin… when all is full of beauty and it is all because of our ever gallant work. Protecting the lands from all forms of evil! Not even the fiercest of all devils could apprehend us and our superior power… upon Grimdom’s most desolate grounds only two noble heroes stand in the way of evil… Roland the mighty and Mita the silent!” Roland stretched and yawned and then removed the newt from the cooking stick and began to consume his meal.
They sat underneath the bright stars and shimmering moon, the coast was about twelve miles to the south of them, and a villain’s mountain range stood north a few more miles. They stood in the heart of Grimdom and had prevailed over the many horrible beasts and creatures that had roamed the lands continuing to raid the last kingdom of Gargan.
“Something comes…” Mita then spoke, so quickly and out of character that Roland stood up and looked around, “I hate it when you do that…” the paladin moaned his eyes scanned the land carefully, looking for what Mita had spoke of. Then the wind came, and rippled through the dense thicket of trees and brush and Roland barely managed to get down behind the rock before the wind ripped through the trees scattering branches and twigs all over the path. Mita placed his hand on his sword, but did not draw it out. The wind died as slowly, a figure cloaked in darkness began to shift through the trees and moved passed the paladins and continued its trek along the barren trails.
“What was that?” Roland asked after it had passed, his voice was unshaken, but rather confused and awed. “It was him… come, we must give chase before he attacks more innocents” Mita replied quickly standing up and following the tracks of the Thyalike…
“He never sleeps that one,” the first replied hand firmly gripped on his ale glass and his hat neatly placed upon his head, hiding his long gray hairs. “Nay, not alive I say for naught a man alive was so dead inside.” The second replied, taking a gulp from his cup and rubbing the short brown hairs atop his head and then let out the stress of the day in one hefty sigh.
“When he passes, the wind blows clod and harsh, rips through your skin, makes raw your bones and if ever you see a pair of eyes more devilish I’d say you’d be in hell.” He continued talk about the entity, so grim was his expression that no mirth could come forth.
“Whatever thought lies underneath his hood, be it of death or things more grim…” the first replied rubbing his belly and then straitening his collar as another man came walking over to them, his gait was that of a gentleman and his cane provide even more splendor to his being, but he was younger than the other two men, and only by the spirit of their conversation had he the means to bother them.
“Grimmer than death, what demon do you speak of, for I have never beheld such a man in my life?” the young man asked in a tone of mockery and the first man turned to him slightly annoyed, “Then you have not lived to see a deathly man, at least not traveled beyond the Grimdom flats where only virtuous paladins wander…” he replied mentioning the lands that bordered Gargan just a few miles from where they now stood. It was the most desolate place and many legends and myths came about from its depths.
“I am no Paladin, but since you’ve brought it up, educate me.” The young man retorted and the first man nodded as if to teach him a lesson of the matter. “Fair warning my friend, if you seek this man then death will knock you flat on your back and pray to Aelia you return!”
“On with it, if I believe in a bards tale!” the arrogant reply came.
“He has not a name, nor bears any insignia… but his soul sprout fear into the very minds of those who see him, but only when the sun goes off to bed and darkness reins the earth. Behind his cowl sinister and malicious thoughts manifest right before your very eyes and every town he visits- makes the fair ladies weep in fear for their husbands!” He ended with a crescendo and the young man let out a burst of laughter.
“What mockery!” he chided the elder man and began to drink his own pint.
“Aye he can’t tell it worth a sack of dirt.” The gray headed man replied finishing off his glass and turning to the newcomer. “The Thyalike they call him- not a traveler but a high wizard I say, a warlock of the abyss… but never have I been bold enough to seek the truth of him, for those who have tried perished, and even so those who might look upon perish…” he finished with the wave of his had as if showing how they disappear into thin air.
“Still, I won’t believe it, least he come inside looking for a pint!” the young man replied and the tavern roared with laughter, for now more and more of the tavern folks had gotten into the conversation and even though most of them were drunken fools.
“Yer to young!” the old man spat ordering another pint. “You sir, are naïve!” the younger man said with a tip of his hat.
“I’ll let you know just who the fool is here! When the Thyalike comes and sweeps you off to Necrain’s table!” he said in reference to the god of death. “Well, I’ll be damned then if the villain does exists…” another uproar of laughter and the two elder men waved their hands, to drunk to care now of whatever the young man claimed.
“Indeed gentlemen, I feel a wager is upon us! Now, pray tell, who is brave enough to prove old Gregory wrong? Not a soul I bet, and yet poor Gregory hasn’t got the guts to prove it otherwise… whoever can figure it out first is the winner!”
The patrons of the tavern thought this to be more funny than serious and the young man stood up and gave a short bow, “I’d rather not waste my time on such silly games, after all I am a gentleman!” at this, Gregory stood up and brought up his fists, now confused and dazed in his stupor. “And I’d rather not loose my life.”
The tavern burst out into another voluminous uproar of laughter when a silent man who was sitting in the corner watching them with careful eyes came about. “I’ll take the wager.” He stated and the crowd turned to look at the hooded man, who carried two broadswords on his back and had a skull hanging from a necklace. He wore gloves with holes cut into them and had many rings on, just dark bands with many runes and insignias on it.
“Pray sir, what do you speak of?” the young gentleman asked. “I could help but overhear your conversation… and so I accept the wager for in my mind there is no doubt that such a man exists… but I have the courage to look for him, now place your pieces if you dare.” He said challengingly and the young man looked over the man a few more times and then a smile crossed his face, “How do we know if you find the Thyalike or not?” Gregory asked and the man replied: “All that now of him have heard of the dark eyes of death… if I bring back the eyes then all shall know of the Thyalike, and its slayer…” there was a quiet chatter now betwixt the patrons and even the bartender stopped whipping the counter to hear what would conspire next.
“By the almighty gods, you’d be madder than any stone in the river… cast astray I say!” Gregory said with a silent prayer for he was a suspicious person. “If you bring the eye I will give you sixty pieces. Ha! It is a pity you will never behold it.” And the dark man nodded and left the tavern.
“We shall see…”
* * *
Quite a ways from the tavern and its tarry of laughter and merriment there stood two lone figured draped in bright orange clothing that symbolized their organization. They were paladins of Gargan, the last noble land of the interracial peoples, the ones who risked their lives day after day to protect the border from the savage creatures of the Grimdom Flats. Both were hunched over beside a gray rock in a clearing of a gray desolate forest. One had made a figure in a tiny hole in the ground and was roasting what looked like a dried newt.
“Nothing like a night out in the bleak tree sewn Grimdom Flats, eh Mita?” the cook asked his sullen companion who appeared to be asleep. Mita, as his companion had called him wore a straw pointed hat that covered up most of his young face. Across his back was a slim short sword that had long neatly cut ribbons on the end of it. “Sure.” Came the quick dull reply as Mita shuffled against the gray rock. “Ah! It is a grand age to be a paladin… when all is full of beauty and it is all because of our ever gallant work. Protecting the lands from all forms of evil! Not even the fiercest of all devils could apprehend us and our superior power… upon Grimdom’s most desolate grounds only two noble heroes stand in the way of evil… Roland the mighty and Mita the silent!” Roland stretched and yawned and then removed the newt from the cooking stick and began to consume his meal.
They sat underneath the bright stars and shimmering moon, the coast was about twelve miles to the south of them, and a villain’s mountain range stood north a few more miles. They stood in the heart of Grimdom and had prevailed over the many horrible beasts and creatures that had roamed the lands continuing to raid the last kingdom of Gargan.
“Something comes…” Mita then spoke, so quickly and out of character that Roland stood up and looked around, “I hate it when you do that…” the paladin moaned his eyes scanned the land carefully, looking for what Mita had spoke of. Then the wind came, and rippled through the dense thicket of trees and brush and Roland barely managed to get down behind the rock before the wind ripped through the trees scattering branches and twigs all over the path. Mita placed his hand on his sword, but did not draw it out. The wind died as slowly, a figure cloaked in darkness began to shift through the trees and moved passed the paladins and continued its trek along the barren trails.
“What was that?” Roland asked after it had passed, his voice was unshaken, but rather confused and awed. “It was him… come, we must give chase before he attacks more innocents” Mita replied quickly standing up and following the tracks of the Thyalike…
* * *