Reply to thread

Message: <blockquote data-quote="Rackhir" data-source="post: 2834924" data-attributes="member: 149">Here's a fleshed out version of Rackhir's Big Adventure by way of Raymond Chandler and with a heavy dose of David Drake.Rackhir's "Big Sleep"It started with a woman. It always starts with a woman. Whether its Empires rising and falling or just going to the market for food, it always starts with a woman. In my case the woman had brought me to the pitching deck of a ship full of bastards, with the red glow of cannibals cook fire painting the horizon. We'd finally found the Lady Delphine's paramour and now the only thing between them, was a rampaging horde of polyneechean berzerkers. But this wasn't where things began, just where she'd brought me.A stint in CITY's military had provided me with citizenship, a sharp eye, a strong bow and few skills other than those of war. But it gave more than my family ever did. I grew up on a hard-scrabble farm in the Ajakhani Empire and a peasant's life doesn't offer much of anything other than backbreaking work that ground my parents into the red dust of the land, but that's another story. The Lady Delphine had provided me with a Purpose and that was reason enough to serve her. Right now that service was going to involve killing quite a large number of people.Of course to the Polyneecheans I wasn't a person, nor by the standards of my homeland were they, but I'm sure their blood will prove just as red and flow just as freely as mine once the arrows start flying. I do my best to keep mine on the inside, but that isn't always possible in my line of work and the squeemish or cowardly don't last long at it. The Lady Delphine was the squeemish type, but keeping her out of the messier aspects of things was one of my jobs. Since she definitely was no coward. I do some times marvel at her purity of soul. For someone who has grown up as the daughter of a powerful and ruthless tycoon, she is almost an innocent.As the small boat taking us to the docks rocked up and down, the Lovesworn Mallus was holding her hand ostensibly to keep track of the Lady Delphine's paramour, but his mind wasn't as low as he likes to pretend. He's a better man than he'd admit even under torture and like many such men, he puts up a lot of bluster to hide it. This world is not kind to those who show their vulnerabilities.Burne also blusters a lot and has an opinion of himself that's higher than Mallus is, most of the time, but he does not lack for courage. I've never seen him back down from a fight or show signs of fear. He also possess not an ounce of incincerity, though that comes from an arrogance that would do a dragon proud. He is exactly as he presents himself and that is a rare thing, if not always an admirable one.We managed to reach the docks without drawing the notice of any of the Ping and we quickly moved into action. I padded steathly down the docks towards the guards on the peak of the fortress. Then things started going "Pear Shaped" as the Madman who accompanied us charged off on his own to attack some of the Ping further down on the dock. I wasn't as close to the fortress as I'd like, but they were beautifuly silhouetted against the night by the Ping's cook fire and for once my luck held as I released the arrows. Death is always close at hand and it came rapidly enough for at least one of the guards as my arrows tracked down range through the night.However I had to make certain they were both dead and had to trust my comrades to handle those behind me. Even if Trust has a tendency to coldcock you in the back of the head with a sap and leave you for dead in an alley. A quick run brought me to the fortress wall and moments later I was a top the battlements, thanks to a grappling hook and silk rope. Blood trails indicated that one had in fact survived long enough to try and drag himself away from death's embrace. Lucky for him. Death can be as clingy as a prostitute who's lached on to a meal ticket. I still don't know if he survived, but it mattered little as two of his bretheren burst through the door he'd apparently dragged himself through. Ping Islanders are brutal thugs of warriors, but my luck, of sorts, still held and to my mild surprise they were also lying dead moments later. However Fate decided to spit in my eyes, as two more followed through the door and one was a shaman.For some reason the ever fickle gods continued to favor me and I resisted his spells, while my arrows left him dying on the fortress floor, off to shame the halls of his ancestors. But I was still paying in blood for each one I killed and my account was starting to run dry. His friend the thug with the obsidian razor club had made me its aquaintence once or twice, but a few more arrows had him fleeing with his friend's ghost. For a "Master Race" of warriors, they seem awfully fond of their own lives. But cowards are often the loudest braggarts. Falling further behind, I followed him through a few doors before I came to my senses. It was one of those times when you want to slap your self silly, for being so stupid. Charging blindly into a fortress over run with Ping is the kind of behavior you get from heroes in those Arabia Wainwright novels. Behavior that usually gets people dead in the next chapter.So I quickly retreated from the fortress barring the doors as best I could without wasting too much time and managed to excape a heart beat ahead of pursuit. The pinhead gods weren't through with me though. As I wound up tripping over the rope and fell off the crenalations, though their twisted sense of humor meant that I was largely unhurt.Any sense of triumph though, turned to ash as I promply ran into a patrol of four more Ping with two of their war boars. I tried in vain to remember if CITY had a god of slapstick humor and what I might have done to offend it, given the recent run of events. Yet as the Fates took away with one hand, they gave with the other, in the form of a narrow goat path for me to back up and prevent them from attacking me more than one at a time. I was down to a handful of arrows by the time the two warriors were dead along with one of the handlers and his pig. The last handler showing the courage of your typical pimp confronted with a greater threat than a helpless woman, decided to flee with his pig, leaving me among the dead to mend my battered body as best I might.The docks were silent and devoid of any obvious trace of my comrades, aside from the handful of Ping corpses. But there was blood enough to follow where they'd gone. There usually was where we'd been.</blockquote>

Verification