alsih2o
First Post
(Porter is a character in a game DMed by Beale Knight set in the World beyond Allishondria.)
Porter grunted gracelessly as he swung his hammer in a wide arc.
Twenty-two years making barrels, first under his father’s tutelage and later as a traveling cooper, had made his arms accurate. He had plugged bungholes with corks held by noble fingers without ever leaving a bruise or splitting a cork. This blow met its mark as surely as any other. This blow shattered the collarbone of Lord Baldrik Deldora.
The grey-worn face of the sledge broke through the skin and scattered fragments of bone throughout the smaller mans chest. The fresh corpse was driven to its knees by the blow. The head rolled back into light streaming through the fruit trees and the waist sagged forward. As the weight pulled the corpse backwards off of Porter’s hammer he could have sworn that, for a moment, it looked as if the man was praying.
Outlaw. Porter’s brow wrinkled as the word flashed through his head. Now he was an outlaw. He turned began running between the long rows of fruit trees. His hammer repeated his pace in his right hand and the rhythm of shadow and light provided by the regularly spaced trees told him he had little time to make town before the sunset.
Porter reached the edge of the small hamlet glistening with sweat and fear. He refused to pause for shelter or food, pressing on to the tents beyond. He reached his small wagon at the far edge of the massed tents and grabbed for what was most important.
He pulled the boiled leather apron over his head and his hands found their way down the pockets. Hammer, hammer, wax, pincers, chalk, a tightly coiled standards rope, knife, knife, knife, saw, saw, hand drill. His large hands rooted under the wagon and emerged with a small pouch. Seven gold. That wasn’t going to buy him mercy.
“Porter! You big galloot. What are you all sweaty about?” The voice came form the shadows and emerged attached to a smile. The smile was attached to Dorus.
“Your brother. His death's done been avenged. You can rest tonight.” Porter’s voice was shaking.
Dorus pressed close to Porter, his head barely reaching Porters collar.
“What?!” Dorus stared at the big man with a mixture of confusion and guilt. “You did what?!”
“Lord Baldrik, I killed him. It’s over. Least that part’s over. I got’s to go. If’n you can make sure my tools make it back to my family.” Porter said with a nod to his shaky wagon.
“Porter, you damned fool! Baldrik didn’t do anything!” Dorus was pulling at Porters apron with wide eyes.
“Anything but kill your brother. Lord or not, that needs punishin’.” Porter’s word came with conviction.
Dorus drop straight to his ass. “Porter, listen, you are joking. You have to be. Joseph…Joseph isn’t any deader than you or me. Porter, he ran off with Peter’s daughter. They are probably still naked in the woods now!”
Porter stared at Dorus for a hard minute, his jaw working loosely in the early evening breeze. “Joseph wouldn’t…I…Joseph ain’t married to that girl!” He demanded.
“It was a joke Porter! It was humor! Baldrik wouldn’t kill him! Why would the Lord even know who Joseph was?” Dorus spoke quickly, panic was washing over him.
Porter turned ashen. Outlaw. The word rang through his head again.
Porter grasped the smaller man by his cloak and turned him quickly. Dorus fell to his knees and froze in fear. Porter tried to form the words in his throat. A lie? Had he just ruined two lives over a mindless joke? Bu the words jammed. Dorus on his knees brought the rush of the evening back to him, Baldrik kneeling as if in prayer…his body sliding away form Porter’s hammer.
Porter vomited.
Porter grunted gracelessly as he swung his hammer in a wide arc.
Twenty-two years making barrels, first under his father’s tutelage and later as a traveling cooper, had made his arms accurate. He had plugged bungholes with corks held by noble fingers without ever leaving a bruise or splitting a cork. This blow met its mark as surely as any other. This blow shattered the collarbone of Lord Baldrik Deldora.
The grey-worn face of the sledge broke through the skin and scattered fragments of bone throughout the smaller mans chest. The fresh corpse was driven to its knees by the blow. The head rolled back into light streaming through the fruit trees and the waist sagged forward. As the weight pulled the corpse backwards off of Porter’s hammer he could have sworn that, for a moment, it looked as if the man was praying.
Outlaw. Porter’s brow wrinkled as the word flashed through his head. Now he was an outlaw. He turned began running between the long rows of fruit trees. His hammer repeated his pace in his right hand and the rhythm of shadow and light provided by the regularly spaced trees told him he had little time to make town before the sunset.
Porter reached the edge of the small hamlet glistening with sweat and fear. He refused to pause for shelter or food, pressing on to the tents beyond. He reached his small wagon at the far edge of the massed tents and grabbed for what was most important.
He pulled the boiled leather apron over his head and his hands found their way down the pockets. Hammer, hammer, wax, pincers, chalk, a tightly coiled standards rope, knife, knife, knife, saw, saw, hand drill. His large hands rooted under the wagon and emerged with a small pouch. Seven gold. That wasn’t going to buy him mercy.
“Porter! You big galloot. What are you all sweaty about?” The voice came form the shadows and emerged attached to a smile. The smile was attached to Dorus.
“Your brother. His death's done been avenged. You can rest tonight.” Porter’s voice was shaking.
Dorus pressed close to Porter, his head barely reaching Porters collar.
“What?!” Dorus stared at the big man with a mixture of confusion and guilt. “You did what?!”
“Lord Baldrik, I killed him. It’s over. Least that part’s over. I got’s to go. If’n you can make sure my tools make it back to my family.” Porter said with a nod to his shaky wagon.
“Porter, you damned fool! Baldrik didn’t do anything!” Dorus was pulling at Porters apron with wide eyes.
“Anything but kill your brother. Lord or not, that needs punishin’.” Porter’s word came with conviction.
Dorus drop straight to his ass. “Porter, listen, you are joking. You have to be. Joseph…Joseph isn’t any deader than you or me. Porter, he ran off with Peter’s daughter. They are probably still naked in the woods now!”
Porter stared at Dorus for a hard minute, his jaw working loosely in the early evening breeze. “Joseph wouldn’t…I…Joseph ain’t married to that girl!” He demanded.
“It was a joke Porter! It was humor! Baldrik wouldn’t kill him! Why would the Lord even know who Joseph was?” Dorus spoke quickly, panic was washing over him.
Porter turned ashen. Outlaw. The word rang through his head again.
Porter grasped the smaller man by his cloak and turned him quickly. Dorus fell to his knees and froze in fear. Porter tried to form the words in his throat. A lie? Had he just ruined two lives over a mindless joke? Bu the words jammed. Dorus on his knees brought the rush of the evening back to him, Baldrik kneeling as if in prayer…his body sliding away form Porter’s hammer.
Porter vomited.
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