a m e d i e v a l f a n t a s y g a m e
The Journey So Far
GM
SmileyJaws
Member
Seen
5 mos ago
๐ฎ e n a n W ๐พ l d e
โค ๐ฎ h e r w o o d - F o r e ๐ t โ
Forest litter crunched under Senan's boot, dawn had broken only a short while ago. He swallowed, his mouth dry. Pausing, he took a moment and looked back. In this dense part of woodland he could barely see the small, stone ruins. He had passed them less than a minute before. Slithering down a steep bank, Senan slipped amongst more trees. Branches overhead caught and snatched at his cloak's hood. Wind hissed in the canopy high above as he sweated his way through slope and dell.
Senan had to admit, he was scared, but who would not be? These trials as they were called offered great opportunity to any who succeed. However the fate of the also-ran, maiming, death. And worse.
It would not be so easy to turn back, to go home and choose another path in life. He knew this, although deep down a tiny part of him probably wished it not to be true. For a moment he felt weak, and the world seemed to slow, as if waiting for his decision. Gaze drifting to the treetops, sunlight filtered through the foliage in narrow beams; he pulled his cloak tighter and walked further amongst the trees. I have come this far, I must see it through. He thought, with grim determination; the renewed realization of his own mortality coming to the forefront. A pair of scampering hares conjured memories of home.
"Keep up, lad," Senan's father whispered, leaning close to his son's ear, "We're on the right track, let's go." A leather-clad hand grasped at his shoulder, squeezing reassuringly.
There was no doubt in the child's mind. What they were doing here wasn't strictly safe. Not just for fear of being gored by a scared or vengeful animal; retribution was harsh and swift for those found guilty of poaching on the King's land. They seemed to have been walking for an age, at least to Senan's mind. And yet, it did not bother him. There was a sense of tranquility found in the woods his home was nestled near, unlike any other he had experienced this far in his young life. The boy looked forward to these excursions with his father with a childish anticipation and glee. Ten summers old, yet he knew this part of the forest as well as any woodsman twice his age, and today was a special day for Senan.
"There she is, look," the whisper was now almost too quiet to hear. "Do you see it?" he asked, slightly louder. As they both stood crouched, the father's hand pointed in the direction of a lone Whitetail Deer. Senan however had not needed the indication. He spotted his mark just before his father had uttered a word.
Their eyes met as they cocked their heads to look at each other. Senan visibly gulped before nodding, affirming the question. A proud smirk tugged at the corners of his father's mouth, before the same reassuring hand fell upon the boy's back. "Whenever you're ready, Senan."
There was no doubt in the child's mind. What they were doing here wasn't strictly safe. Not just for fear of being gored by a scared or vengeful animal; retribution was harsh and swift for those found guilty of poaching on the King's land. They seemed to have been walking for an age, at least to Senan's mind. And yet, it did not bother him. There was a sense of tranquility found in the woods his home was nestled near, unlike any other he had experienced this far in his young life. The boy looked forward to these excursions with his father with a childish anticipation and glee. Ten summers old, yet he knew this part of the forest as well as any woodsman twice his age, and today was a special day for Senan.
"There she is, look," the whisper was now almost too quiet to hear. "Do you see it?" he asked, slightly louder. As they both stood crouched, the father's hand pointed in the direction of a lone Whitetail Deer. Senan however had not needed the indication. He spotted his mark just before his father had uttered a word.
Their eyes met as they cocked their heads to look at each other. Senan visibly gulped before nodding, affirming the question. A proud smirk tugged at the corners of his father's mouth, before the same reassuring hand fell upon the boy's back. "Whenever you're ready, Senan."
It was nearing noon, to the best of the prospective Ranger's knowledge. He had expected to have come across someone else by now and was surprised, although a little relieved, he had not.
There was a beauty to these forests, Senan thought. Were it not for their purpose, he imagined quite liking to spend time here. Aged trees with creaking branches stretched away from the crispy grass, ferns and underbrush. He found himself stopped by a moss-veiled fallen tree huddled next to a dense thicket.
He perched himself on the fallen tree, taking a momentary respite. Letting out a deep sigh, his breath misted as he uttered a curse. Only now that he had stopped moving did Senan realize it had turned cold from a mere mildness earlier that same day. Feeling peckish he rummaged through his satchel for some bread, one of the few commodities afforded to those on trial. Raising the stale loaf to his lips he prepared to take a bite and satiate his rumbling stomach. However, before he got the chance there was a swoosh, followed by a loud thud. It was the unmistakable sound of an arrow in flight and missing the intended target by mere inches. The shock of the unexpected attack caused Senan to fall backwards off his makeshift seat. His back hit the underbrush behind him hard and his face lay close to the thickets. Legs sprawled upwards like a cat experiencing a sudden paralysis.
Only a few moments later there was a second thud. This time the arrow had lodged itself between Senan's legs, stuck into the fallen tree. He was grateful for whatever was throwing his assailant's aim off, perhaps nerves like his own. Scurrying to his feet, he rushed towards the direction of the archer, drawing his sword, shakily, from its scabbard. "Fight!" He roared, surprising himself and appealing to the hidden prospect. To Senan's astonishment, his attacker emerged from a line of trees, a wall of impenetrable shadow. He was now staring down his first opponent of the trial. While he could not comprehend what possessed this man to step forward and shirk the safety of his position, Senan could only imagine he was capable with a sword and wanted blood.
With a deep breath, Senan stood slowly and squared his stance under the watchful eye of his father. His eyes trained on the doe, he watched as it bowed its head browsing for something to eat.
Reaching for his quiver, he took an arrow and nocked it carefully trying not to grip the bow too tightly just as father said. His eyes darting to examine every part of his form. In practice with a target at home, Senan had shown potential, he did not want to disappoint his father. Lifting his arm to shoulder height, with three fingers he began to draw back the string anchoring it to the corner of his mouth. Taking a final, steady breath he aimed the arrow tip for the heart of his mark and released, following through.
There was a snap as a branch deflected the arrow, sending it into the backside of the creature. The doe moaned and kicked its legs before running out of sight. Senan sighed and slumped his head and shoulders feeling utterly defeated and embarrassed.
"Come on, son," Senan's father started, jumping up from his position and taking the boy by the arm. "We've got to follow the blood."
Reaching for his quiver, he took an arrow and nocked it carefully trying not to grip the bow too tightly just as father said. His eyes darting to examine every part of his form. In practice with a target at home, Senan had shown potential, he did not want to disappoint his father. Lifting his arm to shoulder height, with three fingers he began to draw back the string anchoring it to the corner of his mouth. Taking a final, steady breath he aimed the arrow tip for the heart of his mark and released, following through.
There was a snap as a branch deflected the arrow, sending it into the backside of the creature. The doe moaned and kicked its legs before running out of sight. Senan sighed and slumped his head and shoulders feeling utterly defeated and embarrassed.
"Come on, son," Senan's father started, jumping up from his position and taking the boy by the arm. "We've got to follow the blood."
Senan clenched his teeth tightly together, gripping the sword with one hand, palms clammy with sweat. His other hand opened and closed with nervous energy, preparing to grasp the lower end of the hilt. The two combatants circled each other, preparing their mental fortitude for the imminent fight.
"What's your name?" Senan asked.
"Peter."
Examining his opponent, Senan felt a trickle of sweat slide down his forehead. The various aromas of the forest and earth beneath his feet more apparent now, the spider spinning its web in the grass between his feet. His mind was racing with a thousand thoughts and emotions, but most of all he couldn't look away from Peter's cold, distant eyes. They were the deep green of fresh basil and reminded him of his sister. There wasn't much more to be made out about him, except for his tall, lanky build. He wore much the same garb, as to be expected, except his face was covered up to the cheekbones by some dark fabric.
Within moments there was the echoing clang of steel-on-steel as Senan found himself parrying a flurry of blows. Both were moving, neither wanting to be rooted to the ground in this struggle for life itself. Senan lunged for his now enemy's chest, missing as he stood aside. The force of transferring his body weight causing him to almost lose his balance and stumble forward a few steps. He managed to compose himself to block a return strike from Peter's blade, but only just in the nick of time. They found themselves clinching, swords locked together but Peter followed through pushing Senan back and landing a heavy kick to the chest. Senan was taken aback, breathless and knocked to the floor he clambered to get to his feet.
It was evident this fight was to be furious. Senan had always felt more confident with a bow in his hand than a sword. He had imagined, before the trials began, that he'd be the one picking unsuspecting targets from a safe distance; not that he'd be thrown into close combat so early. It was foolish of him, even if he knew full well that this was a likely scenario from the offset. By now he was sweating profusely and still struggling to gain back his breath after the kick that had thrown him on his arse.
Deep breath. Senan told himself, feeling the familiar churning in his gut subside. His grip once again tightening as he took the hilt of his sword with both hands and took stance.
"Come, then," Peter snarled. "It's a long walk to Galloway." he added, mockingly.
With a heavy grunt, Peter swung once more this time from overhead. Sidestepping, Senan narrowly bypassed the strike, catching the blade with the middle of his own sword, causing Peter's blade to slide to the ground. Senan took the opportunity to counter with a downward strike cutting deeply into the shoulder of his adversary.
Peter yelped and winced, taking a few paces backwards to compose himself. It was evident now that his injured arm would be no good for the duration of the clash. Senan had won himself an advantage and knew now that he had to use it, quickly. Wiping sweat from his eyes, it was now his turn to go on the offensive, slashing and stabbing at his opponent who was barely managing to block them. A rising slice, followed by a crooked strike across Peter's sword hand finally disarmed him. Kicking the blade away left him now at Senan's mercy.
The air was cold and crisp, a gust rustled above in the canopy of the forest. Aside from this, there was a silence that seemed almost deafening. Both combatant's breathing was heavy and laboured. His hands and wrists throbbed from the violent vibrations of their swords hitting off each other. All previous concerns seemed to just slip away even while the adrenaline still coursed through him.
"Well... what will you do with me then?" Peter asked, panting, clutching his injured shoulder with the opposite hand. Senan stared back blankly, the point of his sword keeping a wary guard over the downed man.
There hadn't been much of a blood trail to follow and it ran cold relatively quickly. The pair continued searching the woods for a few hours and by chance eventually came across the injured doe. As they crept up on it, Senan noticed its tail was wagging a lot. Amazingly, it hadn't yet noticed the father and son and was slowly limping around a small clearing. He couldn't help but pity it in some small way, he was still a child after all. He had never seen his father mess up on a kill, and so didn't have much to go on before now of anything other than a clean one.
"You'll have to finish this one, boy."
He nodded again in response to his father's words. Drawing back the bowstring he loosed another arrow which this time hit the doe in the chest. The creature kicked out its hind legs before dropping like a tonne of weights.
"Not too bad at all, well done." Senan's father seemed more elated than anybody by his son's eventual success. A large hand clapped him on the back. With some hesitation he cracked a large smile and ran over to check on his first kill under the glistening summer sun.
"You'll have to finish this one, boy."
He nodded again in response to his father's words. Drawing back the bowstring he loosed another arrow which this time hit the doe in the chest. The creature kicked out its hind legs before dropping like a tonne of weights.
"Not too bad at all, well done." Senan's father seemed more elated than anybody by his son's eventual success. A large hand clapped him on the back. With some hesitation he cracked a large smile and ran over to check on his first kill under the glistening summer sun.
"Get out of here, leave your weapons and just go." Senan spoke to a surprised face. He lowered his blade, the aching arm now beginning to relax.
"T-thank-you." Came a hurried response as Peter got up, leaving any and all weapons as instructed, and hobbled away. Disappearing into the trees, not wanting to test his superior's patience or word.
Senan in trying to sit on the forest floor, collapsed onto the ground. He cupped his hands, twiddling his thumbs. In truth, he knew that Peter was most likely going to be killed by some other prospect in these woods or succumb to his wounds. He hadn't the heart to finish someone who only wanted the same thing as him. It just seemed so pointless, perhaps Peter would have even made a better Ranger than him under different circumstances. Although, there wasn't much chance of that now.
A beam of sunlight warmed his dirtied face, he looked up with squinted eyes and smiled. A hushed laugh escaped his lips. The worst of this ordeal was over, he was sure of it.
coGM
ML Attempted Polymath
Member
Seen
10 mos ago
"Fucking Rangers", Ford said under his breath.
He lay in the bushes, alone, muddied, and exhausted. The Trials had started poorly for him, and only gone downhill since. Each fledgling Ranger had been given a bow, a sword, a satchel, and a destination. As far as he'd grasped from his mentor's instructions, Each of the destinations had been assigned to multiple fledglings, but only one could reach the end and pass the trials. In theory, it was simply a race. In practice, several of the fledglings had decided to take out the competition early on, rather than simply win by merit of their own Ranger talents.
But there were no rules against lethal force, and Ford understood the stakes. To be a Ranger, truly and completely, was to be a shadow king. To have jurisdiction as great as the crown when the crown was located far, far away in Telingrad. The brand, the ring, and the spell combined gave one the ability to take command of any locale, provided the corresponding spell had been cast in the the capitol. Ancient, powerful Magic, leftover from the Age of Glory, which proved one's right to command within the nation's borders.
And that was why, despite everything, Ford knew he would continue to hide in the mud, until the threat had passed. Then he would sprint toward Greenpost, pray to the Traveler, and test his fortune against the other fledglings. He peeked out of the bushes, and found the coast to be clear. "Right, then," he said, and pushed himself to his feet. His cloak was ruined, but his body had managed to avoid perforation.
After a moment to steady his breathing, he set off, jogging easily through the brush. This was what he had been trained to do. Dodge the danger. Blend with the surrounds. Not lop off someone's head for being a potential threat to his own glory. He moved faster, more confidently. If he could just--
Suddenly, there was a figure on the ground in front of him. How had he missed it? He slid to a halt and knocked an arrow. He'd hardly noticed drawing the weapon, but that was part of the the training, wasn't it?
"Look," he began. "I'm headed to Greenpost. I'd really rather not skewer you, so...please tell me you are heading somewhere else."
He lay in the bushes, alone, muddied, and exhausted. The Trials had started poorly for him, and only gone downhill since. Each fledgling Ranger had been given a bow, a sword, a satchel, and a destination. As far as he'd grasped from his mentor's instructions, Each of the destinations had been assigned to multiple fledglings, but only one could reach the end and pass the trials. In theory, it was simply a race. In practice, several of the fledglings had decided to take out the competition early on, rather than simply win by merit of their own Ranger talents.
But there were no rules against lethal force, and Ford understood the stakes. To be a Ranger, truly and completely, was to be a shadow king. To have jurisdiction as great as the crown when the crown was located far, far away in Telingrad. The brand, the ring, and the spell combined gave one the ability to take command of any locale, provided the corresponding spell had been cast in the the capitol. Ancient, powerful Magic, leftover from the Age of Glory, which proved one's right to command within the nation's borders.
And that was why, despite everything, Ford knew he would continue to hide in the mud, until the threat had passed. Then he would sprint toward Greenpost, pray to the Traveler, and test his fortune against the other fledglings. He peeked out of the bushes, and found the coast to be clear. "Right, then," he said, and pushed himself to his feet. His cloak was ruined, but his body had managed to avoid perforation.
After a moment to steady his breathing, he set off, jogging easily through the brush. This was what he had been trained to do. Dodge the danger. Blend with the surrounds. Not lop off someone's head for being a potential threat to his own glory. He moved faster, more confidently. If he could just--
Suddenly, there was a figure on the ground in front of him. How had he missed it? He slid to a halt and knocked an arrow. He'd hardly noticed drawing the weapon, but that was part of the the training, wasn't it?
"Look," he began. "I'm headed to Greenpost. I'd really rather not skewer you, so...please tell me you are heading somewhere else."
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