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Small Beginnings - Final Update 6/18/04, ITEOTWAWKI, AIFF!
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<blockquote data-quote="Enkhidu" data-source="post: 247282" data-attributes="member: 351"><p>Care for a little more?</p><p></p><p>This one's a little longer - hope you still enjoy it!</p><p></p><p></p><p>*****</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>The Shimmering Sword was full to its newly scorched rafters within minutes of the meeting bell being rung. Pack scurried around like a rat trying to keep everyone's glass full of water or fresh bread on the tables. Lizon toiled behind the bar keeping everyone organized and calm until the Reeve called the meeting to order. The huge sword hung behind the tavern owner's shoulder, once again safe in its scabbard, but the eyes of everyone in the room quietly watched and waited to see if the blue glow would return. </p><p> </p><p>Pack was in the kitchen when he finally heard the gavel strike the central post calling the meeting to order. The small halfling had to prop himself up in the service window just to see the main stage, but he was rewarded with the best view in the house, high enough to see everything and everyone. Cris banged an empty mug on the table, and a hush settled over the crowd gathered in the Shimmering Sword. Pack looked around from his seat; it seemed as if every person in Icemist and the surrounding farms had come for the meeting. </p><p> </p><p>Cris cleared his throat and began. "By now, those of you who weren't here for the trouble have heard about it, so I'll keep this short. Raiders have attacked Icemist, and have taken several of our men, as well as six children." A murmur swept through the crowd, and Pack heard the sound of women, and not a few men, weeping. The Reeve had fire in his eyes as he continued: "Our streets are broken, our houses damaged, and our granary has been emptied." Another murmur went up, not many people had known this, and an empty granary meant empty bellies over the coming winter.</p><p></p><p>Pack’s attention wandered as Cris outlined the recovery plan: defense against secondary attacks that the kobold raiders might launch before the barbarian tribes march in for the festival took most of the time. The halfling spied Aurora twirling her strawberry hair around her finger and whispering to her father with a determined look on her face. He also saw the woodsman Ander leaning against the wall behind the crowds and near the side entrance; the door behind him was barely open and it seemed to the small minstrel that another set of eyes watched from just outside the door. Worm stood near Lizon behind the bar; the half-orc already had a backpack filled with supplies and a small black trunk waiting at his feet. Pack’s eyes finished the sweep of the room coming to rest on the figure to the right of Cris, a man who made Pack's stomach churn just by looking at him. Abil, the sheriff of the small village, was not a well respected man. He often used his position to intimidate the citizens and bully the council. Some whispered that he actually ran a smuggling operation for Duke Therolgold and his allies, financing their attempt to wrest power from King Trennor VIII: Tor’s boy king.</p><p></p><p>Pack barely restrained himself from booing when Cris gave over the gavel to Abil and the foppish nobleman began to speak.</p><p></p><p>"Dearest friends," Abil began, his voice oozing across the room. "I know we are all concerned with our individual futures and the survival of Icemist as a whole, but I assure you we still have the means to secure this town and prepare for festival. Our lost grain can be replaced by bartering with the farmers in Dalendale, and my auxiliary force of King’s Men will soon be arriving from our noble capitol. Taxes will, of course, need to be collected early to pay for both the grain and the additional men required to protect the festival from more raiding parties.”</p><p></p><p>A rumble spread through the crowd at that remark. Everyone present knew that most of the taxes would go straight to Abil’s purse right before festival. The rumble continued, and Pack knew that the sheriff was in danger of losing control of the crowd. With a knowing glance at the restless throng Abil went on, “What concerns me the most, as I’m sure it does you, is the fate of the children and our fellow townsfolk who are captives of those bloodthirsty beasts. It is because of this concern that I ask a grave question. Who among you can overcome his fear and put the life of his fellow man before his own and venture after these foul vermin to rescue our friends and family?"</p><p></p><p>Abil's speech was interrupted by a boot to the front doors. With a crack, they swung wide and a brisk wind cut through the room. Brother Theo marched into the tavern, and every head turned, each gaze draping over him like the burnished mail shirt that now covered his chest. A round shield emblazoned with the blue lighting bolt of Zuras, the Storm Lord, hung over his left shoulder and beneath it a large grain flail peeked out. Pack was certain that its head was made of steel instead of wood.</p><p></p><p>Brother Theo’s voice was quiet, but filled with a power that Pack had never heard from the old priest. "I think, good Sheriff, that everyone in this room would be willing to go. Excepting yourself, of course.” The ice in his voice froze Abil’s face in a mirthless mask. “The real question is which of you will the council allow to accompany me, so that we might teach these raiders a permanent lesson about kidnapping our friends and our children, storm willing.”</p><p></p><p>It seemed to Pack that a clap of thunder answered the priest's call. The halfling started at the sound, but it actually come from Worm’s hand slamming against the bar, his hamfist leaving an impression in the stained wood. "I'm going!" the huge half-orc simply stated, and Brother Theo nodded approvingly. Pack's heart once again swelled with pride at his brother's action, and before he knew what he was doing Pack heard himself volunteer: "I’m going too”</p><p></p><p>A shy, thin voice rose from the throng, “I shall go as well.” Aurora stepped forward, gripping her father's hand for support. "The raiders were speaking in dragon tongue. It’s been a while, but I can speak their language. I have other gifts as well; I was trained at the university in Tor, and found I can do things that most others there cannot. Please, let me to go." The quite rumble of the crowd broke as everyone began speaking at once, astounded that the slip of a girl would want to do something so dangerous.</p><p></p><p>"Hold! Silence!" Abil yelled, banging the gavel again on the table. The noise quickly stopped as all eyes turned back to the sheriff. A tight smile appeared on his lips as he turned and faced the young lass. "Of course the council will allow you to go, Aurora. I have heard vivid accounts of your colorful 'gifts' during the initial raid, and with your linguistic skills you will be indispensable to this expedition." The red haired girl, let out a slow sigh, and Pack realized she had been holding he breath.</p><p></p><p>Pack turned back to Abil, and was met with a predatory smile. “And Pack, our little helper, will, I’m sure, be of great aid to you, Brother.” Abil’s black eyes bored into the halfling and Pack felt the urge to run, but his legs would not move. Only when Abil closed his eyes and breathed a deep sigh did the halfling relax.</p><p></p><p>“But you,” Abil turned toward Worm, “cannot go.” He turned back toward the crowd, searching for support. “He is the strongest among us, and we will need him here until the King’s Men arrive. If the raiders should come again and he is not here, you will be overrun. Of that, I am sure.” The sheriff turned back toward the looming half-orc, whose large knuckles were turning white as he gripped the bar, wood creaking in his grasp.</p><p></p><p>“And you,” he continued quietly, with a shake of the head, “I am ashamed that you would endanger Icemist like this. Would you leave us defenseless now that Dueca and Finfo are injured and unable to resume their duties?” He stared at Worm as the half-orc’s face flushed crimson, and though the crowd nodded in agreement, Pack could see Abil’s eyes taunting his adopted brother, daring him to say differently. Lizon laid a hand on Worm’s shoulder, and the half-orc calmed visibly while murmurs of agreement swept over the crowd in a wave. With a grunt, Worm hefted his pack, left the trunk at his feet, and silently retreated back toward his room, accompanied by the murmured approval of the host.</p><p></p><p>Pack's mood soured as he looked at his brother’s retreating back. Then Brother Theo stepped forward again. "Since you will not allow Worm to travel with us, I ask that Ander join us. He is not of the village proper, and he has aided us in the past.” His face scanned the gathering. “How many of us would have gone hungry last winter without half dozen deer he brought in and gave to us? None of us knows this wilderness better then him, except for maybe Icemantle, and no one has seen him in years.” He turned again to face the olive skinned woodsman. “What say you Ander?"</p><p> </p><p> Pack saw the entire room turn to face the young man with the drooped moustache whose only reply was a slight nod of his head as he moved to exit the side passage. He paused slightly in the door and added in a thick accent, "I will return in an hour. Be ready to leave. We will need speed if we are to follow these creatures before they can cover their tracks. Horses would be useful for those who wish to go. And be prepared, there are worse things than those raiders out there." Then he was gone, and without a formal dismissal, the crowd began to filter out of the building leaving Pack, Lizon, and a handful of others staring after.</p><p></p><p></p><p>*****</p><p></p><p></p><p>Next time...</p><p></p><p>What's in the trunk?</p><p></p><p>Just who is Ander's bandaged companion?</p><p></p><p>And whatever will become of our short hero?</p><p></p><p>Tune in next week and find out!</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>[Edited for grammer]</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Enkhidu, post: 247282, member: 351"] Care for a little more? This one's a little longer - hope you still enjoy it! ***** The Shimmering Sword was full to its newly scorched rafters within minutes of the meeting bell being rung. Pack scurried around like a rat trying to keep everyone's glass full of water or fresh bread on the tables. Lizon toiled behind the bar keeping everyone organized and calm until the Reeve called the meeting to order. The huge sword hung behind the tavern owner's shoulder, once again safe in its scabbard, but the eyes of everyone in the room quietly watched and waited to see if the blue glow would return. Pack was in the kitchen when he finally heard the gavel strike the central post calling the meeting to order. The small halfling had to prop himself up in the service window just to see the main stage, but he was rewarded with the best view in the house, high enough to see everything and everyone. Cris banged an empty mug on the table, and a hush settled over the crowd gathered in the Shimmering Sword. Pack looked around from his seat; it seemed as if every person in Icemist and the surrounding farms had come for the meeting. Cris cleared his throat and began. "By now, those of you who weren't here for the trouble have heard about it, so I'll keep this short. Raiders have attacked Icemist, and have taken several of our men, as well as six children." A murmur swept through the crowd, and Pack heard the sound of women, and not a few men, weeping. The Reeve had fire in his eyes as he continued: "Our streets are broken, our houses damaged, and our granary has been emptied." Another murmur went up, not many people had known this, and an empty granary meant empty bellies over the coming winter. Pack’s attention wandered as Cris outlined the recovery plan: defense against secondary attacks that the kobold raiders might launch before the barbarian tribes march in for the festival took most of the time. The halfling spied Aurora twirling her strawberry hair around her finger and whispering to her father with a determined look on her face. He also saw the woodsman Ander leaning against the wall behind the crowds and near the side entrance; the door behind him was barely open and it seemed to the small minstrel that another set of eyes watched from just outside the door. Worm stood near Lizon behind the bar; the half-orc already had a backpack filled with supplies and a small black trunk waiting at his feet. Pack’s eyes finished the sweep of the room coming to rest on the figure to the right of Cris, a man who made Pack's stomach churn just by looking at him. Abil, the sheriff of the small village, was not a well respected man. He often used his position to intimidate the citizens and bully the council. Some whispered that he actually ran a smuggling operation for Duke Therolgold and his allies, financing their attempt to wrest power from King Trennor VIII: Tor’s boy king. Pack barely restrained himself from booing when Cris gave over the gavel to Abil and the foppish nobleman began to speak. "Dearest friends," Abil began, his voice oozing across the room. "I know we are all concerned with our individual futures and the survival of Icemist as a whole, but I assure you we still have the means to secure this town and prepare for festival. Our lost grain can be replaced by bartering with the farmers in Dalendale, and my auxiliary force of King’s Men will soon be arriving from our noble capitol. Taxes will, of course, need to be collected early to pay for both the grain and the additional men required to protect the festival from more raiding parties.” A rumble spread through the crowd at that remark. Everyone present knew that most of the taxes would go straight to Abil’s purse right before festival. The rumble continued, and Pack knew that the sheriff was in danger of losing control of the crowd. With a knowing glance at the restless throng Abil went on, “What concerns me the most, as I’m sure it does you, is the fate of the children and our fellow townsfolk who are captives of those bloodthirsty beasts. It is because of this concern that I ask a grave question. Who among you can overcome his fear and put the life of his fellow man before his own and venture after these foul vermin to rescue our friends and family?" Abil's speech was interrupted by a boot to the front doors. With a crack, they swung wide and a brisk wind cut through the room. Brother Theo marched into the tavern, and every head turned, each gaze draping over him like the burnished mail shirt that now covered his chest. A round shield emblazoned with the blue lighting bolt of Zuras, the Storm Lord, hung over his left shoulder and beneath it a large grain flail peeked out. Pack was certain that its head was made of steel instead of wood. Brother Theo’s voice was quiet, but filled with a power that Pack had never heard from the old priest. "I think, good Sheriff, that everyone in this room would be willing to go. Excepting yourself, of course.” The ice in his voice froze Abil’s face in a mirthless mask. “The real question is which of you will the council allow to accompany me, so that we might teach these raiders a permanent lesson about kidnapping our friends and our children, storm willing.” It seemed to Pack that a clap of thunder answered the priest's call. The halfling started at the sound, but it actually come from Worm’s hand slamming against the bar, his hamfist leaving an impression in the stained wood. "I'm going!" the huge half-orc simply stated, and Brother Theo nodded approvingly. Pack's heart once again swelled with pride at his brother's action, and before he knew what he was doing Pack heard himself volunteer: "I’m going too” A shy, thin voice rose from the throng, “I shall go as well.” Aurora stepped forward, gripping her father's hand for support. "The raiders were speaking in dragon tongue. It’s been a while, but I can speak their language. I have other gifts as well; I was trained at the university in Tor, and found I can do things that most others there cannot. Please, let me to go." The quite rumble of the crowd broke as everyone began speaking at once, astounded that the slip of a girl would want to do something so dangerous. "Hold! Silence!" Abil yelled, banging the gavel again on the table. The noise quickly stopped as all eyes turned back to the sheriff. A tight smile appeared on his lips as he turned and faced the young lass. "Of course the council will allow you to go, Aurora. I have heard vivid accounts of your colorful 'gifts' during the initial raid, and with your linguistic skills you will be indispensable to this expedition." The red haired girl, let out a slow sigh, and Pack realized she had been holding he breath. Pack turned back to Abil, and was met with a predatory smile. “And Pack, our little helper, will, I’m sure, be of great aid to you, Brother.” Abil’s black eyes bored into the halfling and Pack felt the urge to run, but his legs would not move. Only when Abil closed his eyes and breathed a deep sigh did the halfling relax. “But you,” Abil turned toward Worm, “cannot go.” He turned back toward the crowd, searching for support. “He is the strongest among us, and we will need him here until the King’s Men arrive. If the raiders should come again and he is not here, you will be overrun. Of that, I am sure.” The sheriff turned back toward the looming half-orc, whose large knuckles were turning white as he gripped the bar, wood creaking in his grasp. “And you,” he continued quietly, with a shake of the head, “I am ashamed that you would endanger Icemist like this. Would you leave us defenseless now that Dueca and Finfo are injured and unable to resume their duties?” He stared at Worm as the half-orc’s face flushed crimson, and though the crowd nodded in agreement, Pack could see Abil’s eyes taunting his adopted brother, daring him to say differently. Lizon laid a hand on Worm’s shoulder, and the half-orc calmed visibly while murmurs of agreement swept over the crowd in a wave. With a grunt, Worm hefted his pack, left the trunk at his feet, and silently retreated back toward his room, accompanied by the murmured approval of the host. Pack's mood soured as he looked at his brother’s retreating back. Then Brother Theo stepped forward again. "Since you will not allow Worm to travel with us, I ask that Ander join us. He is not of the village proper, and he has aided us in the past.” His face scanned the gathering. “How many of us would have gone hungry last winter without half dozen deer he brought in and gave to us? None of us knows this wilderness better then him, except for maybe Icemantle, and no one has seen him in years.” He turned again to face the olive skinned woodsman. “What say you Ander?" Pack saw the entire room turn to face the young man with the drooped moustache whose only reply was a slight nod of his head as he moved to exit the side passage. He paused slightly in the door and added in a thick accent, "I will return in an hour. Be ready to leave. We will need speed if we are to follow these creatures before they can cover their tracks. Horses would be useful for those who wish to go. And be prepared, there are worse things than those raiders out there." Then he was gone, and without a formal dismissal, the crowd began to filter out of the building leaving Pack, Lizon, and a handful of others staring after. ***** Next time... What's in the trunk? Just who is Ander's bandaged companion? And whatever will become of our short hero? Tune in next week and find out! [Edited for grammer] [/QUOTE]
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