Blubaron45 — Roleplayer Guild

Howland slept very uneasy that night, albeit as still as a log. It really was his mind at brief consolation that was keeping him awake and as he slowly began to drift away in a dream, an ancient dream, a dream of temerity, repercussions, and tragedy. He had not known where it came from - the dream, of course - only that it came every once in a while, but never as lucid as this one or as any other he'd ever had before. Howland had not the fortune to be cursed by a dream so vivid since childhood, an innocent memory of when he was once afraid of the dark. It was an old dream of grand crop-fields which stretched across grand land vast as the eye could see, surrounded by grand plains and the grand duchies which were ruled by the not-to-grand, lower-born lordings and their masters who were the Barons and Dukes of the lands that governed the wide Plains of the south who swore fealty to the High King. And long in his memory, did Howland try to forget his home of former peace, warmness, and civility; That tender home of solace with his nurturing mother, many younger siblings, and the pleasant smells of nostalgic crops of the farm before it was maliciously ransacked by bandits a few years ago. A memory Howland wanted to smother long ago by means of heavy drinking, but the mind has a way of slipping the most painful memories into a man's consciousness to remind him of trespasses. 

In the distressful dream, Howland could feel the fear searing through his younger self as riders from a lands far to the east, plundered their ways through the countryside suddenly as the lords of lands tried to brace themselves against the petty bandits who punched their way through once peaceful countryside. In response, the lords of the land called upon trained knights and a handful of drafted peasants were sent in to dismantle the violent scavengers in a minor battle which was fought in the end, crushing the last of their small army of two hundred or so and sent them into oblivion which would later cause these bandits to meagerly rout back into the forest, but not before they could devise a plan to strike back at the kingdoms among the Plains. Howland's home was one of those farms which stood in the way of what he remembered from that cold night, the bleak night that made him want to leave his home in the first place. 

It all started with a brief moment of loud screams in his dream, just as it had happened in the past and Howland found himself almost out of breath while he frantically paced across the burning farm to were the noise was coming from, unleashing his ancestral longsword as it sung from his scabbard the moment he unleashed its dragon pommel. When he arrived, the men who were there had no faces, they were only shadows as black as night in the pale morning. They came at Howland as he tried to fend the farm, prancing back and forth in an attempt to fight one at a time until he found an opening to strike. When he stroke, there was no blood, the figures seemed to break off into fragments as dark sparks dissipated like shattered glass from the abrupt collision of black skin against steel. They broke loose like rose petals the morning of a winter's kiss as the pieces spread across the land only to be swept among the wind. As they danced in the wind, the fragments began to surround Howland until they consumed him after he killed the last man. 

When he was able to see again, all he saw was his mother and her cold, tender body displayed in his arms where she was damped with blood which spewed from the torn flesh around her neck, her green eyes burning into his as she looked for her son for help. But it would not come - only in great perils can human beings become so drastically stubborn in looking for one shred of hope. Just one, but Howland knew she was as good as dead, although could not admit it and after a large bursts of screams from the young boy, he finally relented and put his head against hers and tried to feel her warm embrace once last time before she let out one final breath. 

"I'm sorry mother." He wept, as he held her fragile body in his pale hands while a redness trickled down between his shivering fingers and with every tear that ran below his check, he began to gain consciousness once again. Howland then found himself back in the room where he found himself conscious the night before, the warm and naked mistress still draping herself around his tight body. She was pretty young woman now that he'd gotten a look at her, probably no older than Howland. She was comprised with a small, pointy nose along with long brown hair, and sharp facial features that complimented her stature. Howland himself did not even know her name, or in fact anything that happened that afternoon before, only that it was probably best if he were to leave entirely from this situation. Abruptly, Howland forced himself away from her as sweat from her arms drenched his face and filled his nostrils with an unpleasant odor before finding himself away from the unknown woman who seemed to be dead asleep. When he packed his things and gathered his leather armor, he made a rush out the door as silently as possible, completely unaware that the young mistress was actually awake the entire time. The beautiful mistress soon opened her bright indigo eyes just as Howland left the door of the Inn. "Until next time." She whispered to herself, smiling amiably as she closed her tired eyes into a deep slumber once again. 

When Howland left the Inn, a red sun boldly began to rise from the eastern horizon while he made his way across town towards the gate astride his horse, Lord Dustard. The streets were surprisingly still faintly active with men and women who tended their business in the early morning as serfs began to laboriously make their way to the fields of the Lord's manor as he approached the gate of the outer side of town. When he arrived at the gate, the knightly city-guard who were dressed in their scaled armor nodded a greeting to Howland as he rode passed him along the paved road that soon turned to dirt as he went further away from the port town. Just outside, the team was assembled, readying their horses while the others gathered for the long trip to Sayamir Pass. Well, here starts my adventure for this month he thought, very optimistically. 

"Sorry I'm late." he greeted just before grinning.
Blubaron45 Member

The Musical Mathmagician

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