Daniel Knight
First Post
Okay. Here we go for the next installment...
Part X
The necromancer looked over the child at his feet. No more than ten years old, the boys sandy hair was plastered in a mat of blood to the side of his skull. Prodding the child with his boot, the boy did not move. The child was evidently dead.
The necromancer sighed and leaned a heavy plank of wood - smeared in blood - against the alley wall. The necromancer’s name was Shrass Icebreeze and he was not having a good day. In fact, he hadn’t been having a good day since the day he was shot dead, but that certainly didn’t make this day any better. A beam of warm sunlight shone between the buildings of the messy and crowded alley onto a cat curled up on a box. Shrass scowled at the cat for obviously mocking him by enjoying the day in all its sun-blessed splendour. Although the cat had no concept of the expression sourly nailed to the wizard’s face, it still made him feel a little better.
Three days of constant tracking to arrive in this dead end alley, with an equally dead child. He hadn’t meant to hit the child as hard as he had. Just a casual tap on the side of the head to convince the boy to tell him where the coin was, nothing more. Shrass blamed the arrow head still lodged in the back of his brain for his poor judgement in strength. The damn thing was probably giving him lead poisoning too.
He looked at the crumpled child, surrounded in a halo of blood and sticky buns. Never-mind, he thought, a dead child could yield answers as much as a live one. The cat yawned, stretched its paws, and fell asleep. The kind of sleep only dead men and cats know of.
* * * * *
Griffbramble boarded the boat with an armload of freshly purchased food. It was the first time he had ever been on a boat and he was a little more then exited. Making sure to avoid the many sailors preparing for the launch, he sat his rather large form on a bench, grabbed a muffin from a bag, and sank his teeth into it.
He was a tombstone carver by trade, and he had finally earned enough money to leave the large island of the Dominion to supposedly: better horizons. He had heard about these better horizons as a child from his mother. He wasn’t sure where they were exactly – no one in his family did - but he was certain they would be as far away as possible from this point. The proverbial dead centre of his universe.
Wiping away the crumbs from his olive green tunic, he looked towards the city of Portabelo. It was a rather impressive sight. Beyond it rose the mighty pine shrouded Mountains of Glore, studded with hundreds of little hamlets and towns growing over the land like a fungus. He grabbed another muffin and bit into it thoughtfully. The politics of the land was as messy as its geography, and he was very glad to be leaving it all behind. The orcs, the corrupt government, the sanctioned fighting, and the dangerous beasts roaming the countryside could all shove it as far as he was concerned. He had, had enough.
And with that thought, he finished off his muffin.
* * * * *
Griffbramble awoke with the ship lurching back and forth. He had only been on the ship for three hours, and had been confined to the cabin within the first ten minutes of sail. He looked greenly across from his bunk to the bag of food leaning against the wall. He was almost sick again. The overweight man sat well with ship-life, it’s just that ship-life didn’t sit well with him.
Fresh air, he thought. His mind numbly locked onto the idea of engulfing lung loads of sweet and pure air as he stumbled out of his bunk. Yes. Need fresh air! Nothing could distract his mind now, he thought. The ship lurched to the side. Okay - well nothing except for this friendly and lovely bucket which can come accompany me on the journey. Man and bucket, hand in handle, staggered up the steps towards the land of promised air.
Unlatching the topmost door, Griffbramble did not expect to see what he did when he pushed through into the forgotten world above. Sickly, he stared as sailers frantically ran about the deck sealing boxes and tying things down. Above the ship, dark and black clouds massed about the ship. Lightning crackled from cloud to cloud across the sky. As far as omens go, he thought, this one is a pretty bad one.
He quickly staggered to the railing and looked over the side into the grey turbulent waves. Griffbramble felt very, very sick again as he watched as a massively large shadow moved beneath the boat. It had little blue lights running along it.
“Excuse me,” the obese man said drawing the attention of a sailer near him. “A fish that size would be a bad sign, wouldn’t it?”
The sailor looked over the edge and swore. “Leviathan! It’s the damn Leviathan!”
“Oh. Good.” Griffbramble had heard stories about the big friendly whale as a child, and was pleased to have seen one and that one was following the boat.
The sailor ignored him and ran up to the captain. “Sir! It’s the Leviathan!”
The captain stopped in mid tying and looked up at the sailer. He nodded grimly. “Slaughter the livestock and liberate the treasure. You know what to do.” He turned around and shouted to the men who could hear. “As I suspected, we have the accompaniment of the Leviathan, men! I want to see everything under control!”
Thunder echoed overhead as a massive light studded tentacle slapped into the side of the ship testing the wood. Griffbramble griped the railing in terror. “I thought the Leviathan was good?”
A passing sailer overheard this as he dragged a petrified goat to the railing. “Only in children’s stories, sir. Only in children’s stories.” The sailor then proceeded to cut the creatures throat and spill the blood into the murky water.
Griffbramble was sick again.
He looked around the deck and saw that that’s what most of the sailors where doing. Throwing the onboard animals overboard. The other sailers appeared to be throwing treasure over. Coins, cases of jewellery, and spice were all sacrificed to the icy cold waves.
Another tentacle slapped into the side of the ship, sending sailors and animals to the deck alike. The sound of splintering wood could be heard far below.
Thunder rolled. It rolled a 20.
Lightning jagged down escorted by a wave of rain into the ship. The crows nest exploded in a shower of sparks as the untamed electricity crawled over the main mast, setting fire to the ropes and sails. Another jolt sent men flying as they continued to scramble to get anything of worth overboard and into broiling ocean – but nothing seemed to be appeasing the nightmare creature below.
A wave of water washed Griffbramble off his feet, and sent him sliding along the deck. He sluggishly crawled back to the railing and started to lash himself to it, the wet rope cutting into his palms. He sat there, leaning against the wood with all thought of being sick now fled from his brain. He watched as the last of the livestock was sacrificed (a pig), and the last of the goods (two crates of statuettes) were thrown overboard. The world span about him as another wave crashed into the shivering bulk of his battered body. By now, the decks were completely flooded with water and a rhythmic sound of crunching wood could be heard far, far below.
“She’s eating through the bottom of the hull!” The scream was softly carried on the wind under the cacophony of the storm. The sailors were now empting the personal belongings of their pockets and backpacks into the deep water – they’d be happy enough with their lives, and even that didn’t look very promising. Griffbramble numbly untied his coin pouch following suit. It had taken him years to save enough for this trip. He dropped it all over the side of the boat.
A thunderous crack was heard overhead as the main mast split in two. Splinters flew in all directions as the boat tipped to the side, sending the top half of the massive pole into the savage water.
With a scream of anger and resentment, Griffbramble rose and strained against the ropes. He reached into his pocket and grabbed all he had left, a handful of change from the supply shopping, and threw his fist forward over the crashing ocean sending coins glittering through the downpour. He watched with clenched teeth as they spun through the air towards the awaiting hunger of the sea.
…
Plop.
* * * * *
No one was certain what had happened that day. One minute doom was inevitable, the next a ray of sunlight had parted the clouds, and the sky had simply cleared. The sailors never heard nor saw of the Leviathan again that day or any other, but you can still hear the tale told on windy nights if you find the right dock side tavern.
As for Griffbramble? Well, after the events he simply untied himself and looked out into the smooth flat ocean, both hands resting calmly on the railing. The boat was utterly shattered, but at least, he was told, it could be repaired enough to limp into the next dock.
Griffbramble smiled, looking at the ocean surrounding him. He’d never been surrounded by water before as far as the eye could see. These certainly weren’t better horizons.
But it was a start.
Part X
The necromancer looked over the child at his feet. No more than ten years old, the boys sandy hair was plastered in a mat of blood to the side of his skull. Prodding the child with his boot, the boy did not move. The child was evidently dead.
The necromancer sighed and leaned a heavy plank of wood - smeared in blood - against the alley wall. The necromancer’s name was Shrass Icebreeze and he was not having a good day. In fact, he hadn’t been having a good day since the day he was shot dead, but that certainly didn’t make this day any better. A beam of warm sunlight shone between the buildings of the messy and crowded alley onto a cat curled up on a box. Shrass scowled at the cat for obviously mocking him by enjoying the day in all its sun-blessed splendour. Although the cat had no concept of the expression sourly nailed to the wizard’s face, it still made him feel a little better.
Three days of constant tracking to arrive in this dead end alley, with an equally dead child. He hadn’t meant to hit the child as hard as he had. Just a casual tap on the side of the head to convince the boy to tell him where the coin was, nothing more. Shrass blamed the arrow head still lodged in the back of his brain for his poor judgement in strength. The damn thing was probably giving him lead poisoning too.
He looked at the crumpled child, surrounded in a halo of blood and sticky buns. Never-mind, he thought, a dead child could yield answers as much as a live one. The cat yawned, stretched its paws, and fell asleep. The kind of sleep only dead men and cats know of.
* * * * *
Griffbramble boarded the boat with an armload of freshly purchased food. It was the first time he had ever been on a boat and he was a little more then exited. Making sure to avoid the many sailors preparing for the launch, he sat his rather large form on a bench, grabbed a muffin from a bag, and sank his teeth into it.
He was a tombstone carver by trade, and he had finally earned enough money to leave the large island of the Dominion to supposedly: better horizons. He had heard about these better horizons as a child from his mother. He wasn’t sure where they were exactly – no one in his family did - but he was certain they would be as far away as possible from this point. The proverbial dead centre of his universe.
Wiping away the crumbs from his olive green tunic, he looked towards the city of Portabelo. It was a rather impressive sight. Beyond it rose the mighty pine shrouded Mountains of Glore, studded with hundreds of little hamlets and towns growing over the land like a fungus. He grabbed another muffin and bit into it thoughtfully. The politics of the land was as messy as its geography, and he was very glad to be leaving it all behind. The orcs, the corrupt government, the sanctioned fighting, and the dangerous beasts roaming the countryside could all shove it as far as he was concerned. He had, had enough.
And with that thought, he finished off his muffin.
* * * * *
Griffbramble awoke with the ship lurching back and forth. He had only been on the ship for three hours, and had been confined to the cabin within the first ten minutes of sail. He looked greenly across from his bunk to the bag of food leaning against the wall. He was almost sick again. The overweight man sat well with ship-life, it’s just that ship-life didn’t sit well with him.
Fresh air, he thought. His mind numbly locked onto the idea of engulfing lung loads of sweet and pure air as he stumbled out of his bunk. Yes. Need fresh air! Nothing could distract his mind now, he thought. The ship lurched to the side. Okay - well nothing except for this friendly and lovely bucket which can come accompany me on the journey. Man and bucket, hand in handle, staggered up the steps towards the land of promised air.
Unlatching the topmost door, Griffbramble did not expect to see what he did when he pushed through into the forgotten world above. Sickly, he stared as sailers frantically ran about the deck sealing boxes and tying things down. Above the ship, dark and black clouds massed about the ship. Lightning crackled from cloud to cloud across the sky. As far as omens go, he thought, this one is a pretty bad one.
He quickly staggered to the railing and looked over the side into the grey turbulent waves. Griffbramble felt very, very sick again as he watched as a massively large shadow moved beneath the boat. It had little blue lights running along it.
“Excuse me,” the obese man said drawing the attention of a sailer near him. “A fish that size would be a bad sign, wouldn’t it?”
The sailor looked over the edge and swore. “Leviathan! It’s the damn Leviathan!”
“Oh. Good.” Griffbramble had heard stories about the big friendly whale as a child, and was pleased to have seen one and that one was following the boat.
The sailor ignored him and ran up to the captain. “Sir! It’s the Leviathan!”
The captain stopped in mid tying and looked up at the sailer. He nodded grimly. “Slaughter the livestock and liberate the treasure. You know what to do.” He turned around and shouted to the men who could hear. “As I suspected, we have the accompaniment of the Leviathan, men! I want to see everything under control!”
Thunder echoed overhead as a massive light studded tentacle slapped into the side of the ship testing the wood. Griffbramble griped the railing in terror. “I thought the Leviathan was good?”
A passing sailer overheard this as he dragged a petrified goat to the railing. “Only in children’s stories, sir. Only in children’s stories.” The sailor then proceeded to cut the creatures throat and spill the blood into the murky water.
Griffbramble was sick again.
He looked around the deck and saw that that’s what most of the sailors where doing. Throwing the onboard animals overboard. The other sailers appeared to be throwing treasure over. Coins, cases of jewellery, and spice were all sacrificed to the icy cold waves.
Another tentacle slapped into the side of the ship, sending sailors and animals to the deck alike. The sound of splintering wood could be heard far below.
Thunder rolled. It rolled a 20.
Lightning jagged down escorted by a wave of rain into the ship. The crows nest exploded in a shower of sparks as the untamed electricity crawled over the main mast, setting fire to the ropes and sails. Another jolt sent men flying as they continued to scramble to get anything of worth overboard and into broiling ocean – but nothing seemed to be appeasing the nightmare creature below.
A wave of water washed Griffbramble off his feet, and sent him sliding along the deck. He sluggishly crawled back to the railing and started to lash himself to it, the wet rope cutting into his palms. He sat there, leaning against the wood with all thought of being sick now fled from his brain. He watched as the last of the livestock was sacrificed (a pig), and the last of the goods (two crates of statuettes) were thrown overboard. The world span about him as another wave crashed into the shivering bulk of his battered body. By now, the decks were completely flooded with water and a rhythmic sound of crunching wood could be heard far, far below.
“She’s eating through the bottom of the hull!” The scream was softly carried on the wind under the cacophony of the storm. The sailors were now empting the personal belongings of their pockets and backpacks into the deep water – they’d be happy enough with their lives, and even that didn’t look very promising. Griffbramble numbly untied his coin pouch following suit. It had taken him years to save enough for this trip. He dropped it all over the side of the boat.
A thunderous crack was heard overhead as the main mast split in two. Splinters flew in all directions as the boat tipped to the side, sending the top half of the massive pole into the savage water.
With a scream of anger and resentment, Griffbramble rose and strained against the ropes. He reached into his pocket and grabbed all he had left, a handful of change from the supply shopping, and threw his fist forward over the crashing ocean sending coins glittering through the downpour. He watched with clenched teeth as they spun through the air towards the awaiting hunger of the sea.
…
Plop.
* * * * *
No one was certain what had happened that day. One minute doom was inevitable, the next a ray of sunlight had parted the clouds, and the sky had simply cleared. The sailors never heard nor saw of the Leviathan again that day or any other, but you can still hear the tale told on windy nights if you find the right dock side tavern.
As for Griffbramble? Well, after the events he simply untied himself and looked out into the smooth flat ocean, both hands resting calmly on the railing. The boat was utterly shattered, but at least, he was told, it could be repaired enough to limp into the next dock.
Griffbramble smiled, looking at the ocean surrounding him. He’d never been surrounded by water before as far as the eye could see. These certainly weren’t better horizons.
But it was a start.
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very good I like story fine
