The Story of Cero: By the Sword

Discussion in 'The Salty Dog Tavern' started by Cero, Jun 6, 2017.

  1. Cero

    Cero Well-Known Member

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    Here was my submission for the Great Writing Contest: Character History

    Title: By the Sword

    Author: Cero


    *As he sat at his desk, staring into the dancing flame of the candle, the memories came flooding back to him. First a distant dream, then they were clear in his mind. His quill began to move.*

    Book 1: The Beginning

    It was a small cottage backed up next to a wood, sprawling pastures on the other sides. A vegetable garden, some livestock and a pair of horses for the wagon is what we called home. My father a tall stocky man with light brown hair named Gil, a sheep farmer, supplied a few of the tailors with wool for their goods. My mother, tall and curvy with long black hair, a goddess in my father’s eyes, named Kara kept the house in order. Between the great City of Britain and the western town of Skara Brae was our own little quiet world. All was great as a young boy growing up. I was 12 when it was taken from me.

    It was a warm spring morning, sunny and not a cloud in sight. I had finished my morning chores early that day, grabbed my cane pole and told my ma that I was going to a nearby pond to fish. Father was out with the sheep in the pastures. I was gone not an hour and was thinking of returning for lunch when I saw the smoke. Before I knew it I was standing at the edge of the woods near our corral. The cottage was burning on the far side. I started for the well to grab a bucket to help with the fire when I saw them. The horses lay dead in the corral, butchered as if something tore them apart and feasted. All thoughts of putting out the blazing fire left at the sight of the horses. I crept up to the corner post to get a view of the front yard. There my mother lay face down in the dirt. I broke out in a dash and came crashing down next to her cradling her head. She was dead, a slash across her back. With tears starting to fill my eyes I surveyed the rest of the yard and saw another form out in the field more. I hurried over to it. I knew it was my father before I got close. He laid there still clutching a wound to his gut, his crude sword lying at his side. As I knelt down beside him he opened his eyes, reached for my hand and said one word, "Orcs," than his eyes rolled back into his head. I sat there crying, stunned and everything a blur. After some time had pasted I heard voices coming from the road, I quickly took in my surroundings. It was late afternoon by now. Coming up the road was the neighboring farmer Jeb and his two older sons. I stood up and the world started to spin, on my second step I collapsed.

    I awoke the next morning to the smell of bacon being cooked. As I opened my eyes I thought that it might have all been a bad dream, until I head Jeb's wife Malinda talking to the baby. I rolled out of the cot I was in and sprang to my feet. Malinda had a look of sadness on her face when she saw me. She began to say, "Jeb and the boys headed back to your place to bury your..." I never heard her finish, I was out the door and making for our cottage. When I arrived Jeb and his oldest John had just finished burying my parents under a great oak tree that stood alone in the pasture. Jeb's second son Jimmy was herding up the few sheep that were not dead or run off. They saw me approach and stepped back to give me a moment at my parent’s grave. I fell to my knees and cried for many minutes until Jeb put his hands on my shoulder and said it was time to go. I didn't want to leave them, but soon I was on my feet walking with Jeb and his sons back to their farm.

    As we sat around the table for lunch that day, I sat there staring more than eating. Jeb told me how they saw the smoke and came running to help, figuring more on an out of control fire then an attack. They saw me collapse in the field and quickly realized something horrible had gone wrong. Jeb suspected bandits until they saw all the orc tracks. That is when they grabbed me, and after checking my parents decided to return the next day to bury them. He also informed me that in a day or so he would travel to town and inform the guard of what had happened, as well as sell off anything of my father’s herd he could. Jeb was a pig farmer and knew little about sheep. He told me that I could stay on the farm for a little but times were tough and he could not feed another mouth for long, with the baby and all. It was the least he could do for my folks before having to put me up at the orphanage.

    Two weeks went by before Jeb gave me the bad news. The next day we loaded the wagon and headed to town. We stopped by my parents oak tree on the way. There I vowed to them I would do them right.

    Arriving in Britain, Jeb took me over to the west side of the city where a small orphanage was located. The caretaker was waiting for us outside and collected me and some of the remaining funds that were left over from my parent’s things. The place was small and only about half full of children, with none my age. It took me only a few days to realize why there were so few kids here, the caretakers were cold and took little care of the children under their roof. I found out most of the kids run away after a short time or get scooped up by the thieves’ guild to work as cut-purses, beggars or look-outs. During the day I would slip out and wander the city, at first I wouldn’t wonder far, but as the days went on and I learned my way around, my travels would grow. On one such outing I had the privilege of watching the changing of the guard near the castle, from that moment on I knew what I had to do to avenge my parents.

    I found out on the eastern side of the city there was a warriors guild hall. Figuring that would be my best bet at learning the ways of battle, I headed over to scout things out. Walking up to the front door I asked if I could join. A large man peered over the desk he was sitting behind and asked how old I was. I replied, “Twelve, Sir.” With a smirk he answered back with, “Too young,” and flicked me off as if I was a small bug. I returned to the orphanage that night with my head low, but as I lay staring at the ceiling I reminded myself of what I had to do. The next day I returned and just sat and watched. The day after I watched some more, and at one point a fighter that was training called for some water. I sprang from my seat and fetched a pitcher of water from a nearby table. By the end of the week I was doing small chores around the hall, cleaning up bloody bandages, fetching water, sweeping, you name it I was getting it done. Returning to the orphanage every night to catch a few hours of sleep, being back at the hall before the sun was up. A week later that same large man approached me and said, “Follow me.” He walked me over to the corner of one of the storage areas where there was a cot set up, pointed and said, “That’s where you sleep now, you can call me Master Porter and if you keep up what you are doing kid, you’ll earn your way in before you know it.” I never returned to that orphanage again.

    Book 2: The Warriors Guild

    Two years, two long years of doing every little task I could think of and that day came. Master Porter had gathered up some of the fighters that were in the hall that day and called me over. He said, “Cero, you are a little young but I think you have done enough work around here to warrant this.” At that he handed me a wooden sword. “Train with this for a while and we’ll see if we can’t get you a real one.” Of course this was not the first weapon I held, on some of the slow nights at the hall I would sneak a sword or mace into the supply room and have a few swings. Once I even knocked over a crate! But getting that wooden sword meant I was part of something, and I could begin my training as a real warrior.

    Training began the next day, much to my surprise and dismay I still had to complete many of the everyday tasks I had been doing when trying to earn my way in. Most of the early training was basic swordsmanship, how to swing, strike, block and parry. Everything was against a dummy or the open air of the training room, no real opponents yet for me. But as time went on and the few new apprentices gained in our skills, sparring matches started. Another lad named Hans quickly became my rival as we were spitting images of each other, average height and weight, Hans being a few years older, as well as being about equal in skill, with Hans usually proving the better in our duels. This one particular time though we were drawing dead even, neither landing a “killing” blow. Hans had me backing up with a combo of moves he had used before, always getting the upper hand. I knew I was doomed, but at the last second I changed my stance, parried his killing blow and countered, striking him mid torso and taking the match in grand fashion. He never attempted that combo on me again.

    Time passed and training continued. The everyday tasks around the hall lessened as a few new recruits showed up. We trained with different weapons from time to time, but I always returned to my wooden sword of choice. About a year into our training Master Porter had a blacksmith stop by the hall. Those of us who had passed a few rigorous tests were given the opportunity to have a weapon of our choice made. When it was my turn to place my order I chose the broadsword. It took about a week for the smith to return, but when he did those of us who had something made were thrilled.

    My broadsword was perfectly weighted, balanced and ready for action! Training continued, but began to get much more intense with our new weapons. We often practiced group tactics, as well as first aid from the numerous accidental cuts from the slip of a sword, and how to keep yourself and your mates alive. With the stable close, we could work on our horsemanship and how to fight while mounted. Months went by as we honed our skills, when one day a merchant came by the hall looking for escorts to Trinsic. This was not an unusual thing, but being untrained before I paid little attention to them. This day was different. Master Porter was talking to the man when he turned to some of the older guildsmen. Two of them shook heads and turned to the group of us and yelled, “Hans, Sam, Cero, you are with us!” In total shock we grabbed our things and hurried over. Rocco a tall muscular man with a shaved head and an upper body full of tattoos was the senior member of our party and gave us our orders, “Gentlemen were going to escort this man and his good to Trinsic, stay the night and return in the morning.” Rocco paused and looked at our shocked faces, then continued, “I would not have chosen you three if I didn’t think you were up to the task. The road to Trinsic is a fairly safe one, but better to take no chances and be alert.” We moved outside to begin our first real job as guildsmen.

    Sam, another young guildsman, short and skinny, rode in the bed of the wagon; he was our best shot with a bow. Hans rode with the driver. Bailey the other guildsmen was a portly fellow, but was a whiz with words and a sword. He and I took up the rear on horseback and Rocco rode point. As Rocco pointed out the trip south was a quiet one, but my blood was pumping the whole way, head on a swivel, looking for any signs of trouble.

    The merchant put us up in an inn for the night and early the next morning we loaded up and headed north. About three hours into our trek home Rocco called for a halt. Not being a planned rest, Bailey looked up the road. Two men on horseback sat blocking the way, “This doesn’t look good mate, be ready,” Bailey said. No sooner than the words left his mouth two arrows thudded into the side of the wagon. “Ambush, Bandits!” someone shouted. The two on horseback charged down the road as six on foot crashed out of some bushes near the wagon. There was only a moment’s hesitation from the surprise of it all and our training kicked in.

    Sam put an arrow in the chest of one the men on foot, taking him out of the fight instantly. The merchant pulled a small crossbow and fired but missed badly, reaching for a large knife he had next. Hans held the high ground on the front of the wagon with his two short swords he liked to use. Bailey and I charged and two of the bandits turned to cut us off from the rear of the wagon. Sam put another arrow in one of their backs. Just then an arrow flew by, “Archer! Sam take out that archer,” I yelled, as I fought with the one remaining bandit at the rear. Bailey charged past slashing a bandit in the shoulder that was giving the merchant trouble, before racing off to help Rocco with the two mounted bandits out front. I got the upper hand on the bandit I was facing with a kick to the face and a downward slash hitting him in the upper arm. Hans got one of the two he had with a poke to the gut and Sam was firing arrows into the bush at their archer, keeping him pinned down. Rocco took out one of the mounted bandits as Bailey came to his aid. Just then the other mounted bandit yelled, “Retreat!” and made for the trees with a kick to his horse’s flanks. The rest of the bandits made for the bushes leaving the two with arrows stuck in them dead on the road.

    Rocco rode back to the wagon, “Anyone injured?” he asked. “Nothing life threatening,” Hans replied. “Good,” Rocco said, “Let’s ride,” and he took off at a gallop. We rode hard for a good half hour before stopping to rest the horses and patch ourselves up. Hans having the worst injury with a broken finger, the rest were just cuts and scratches. Rocco and Bailey being the seasoned veterans congratulated us on the good work of our first battle before heading north again. The rest of the trip went smoothly but you could tell everyone was on edge.

    Word spread quickly around the hall when we returned, of how the three young warriors handled themselves in battle. Many merchants stopped by over the next few days to say thanks. Training resumed as it left off and we continued about our daily activities, only getting a job for escort now and then. Mostly all went off smoothly except for a few ruffians now and again, nothing like we faced on our first trip. Little over a year had passed from our fight with the bandits when a call came out to the citizens of Britain that the city guard was looking to refill their ranks for patrolmen outside the city. I talked it over with Master Porter and he said, “You are a little young still but give it a shot kid, if it doesn’t work out you are always welcome back here.” I was down at the patrol office the next day. The Guard Corps boot camp started in a week.
  2. Cero

    Cero Well-Known Member

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    Book 3: Guard Corp


    “Fall in you maggots!” Shouted Senior Guardsman Rafferty, as the group of us scrambled to get into formation. It had been a month since training started. Much of it had been calisthenics, formation drills, discipline and team building exercises, and all of it under the watchful eye, and foul, demeaning mouth of the wiry little man at the front of the formation, Senior Guardsman Rafferty. There was ten of us out of the fourteen that started, on average another two would drop out before the remaining two months of training concluded, I was determined I would not be one of them. The next month was all dedicated to weapons training. Being a member of the Warriors' guild set me out front in skill even at my younger age. Most of the other lads were a full two years older than I was, but I held my own and most of them just called me “kid” as a nickname and not out of disrespect. Often during weapons month the words, “Cero, get up here and show the rest of these maggots how it’s done,” would flow from Senior Guardsman Rafferty’s mouth. He would sometimes throw a backhanded compliment my way quickly followed by, “Don’t let it go to your head kid.”

    The final month was before us, where we would learn a little bit of all the skills there was to learn for patrolling, before we picked a path to master. Things like tracking, healing, setting camps, all the things you never knew went into being a patrolman in the Guard Corp. After our final month of training we were to pick a skill set and spend an additional month of schooling mastering just that skill. I chose healing, keeping my mates alive with skills of healing as well as my sword offered me the best chance to get out on the patrol and find orc blood on my blade.

    Training concluded and our month of extra schooling ended with a small ceremony. Senior Guardsman Rafferty went down the line one by one talking to each of us. When he got to myself he said, “Good job kid, do us proud out there.” His rare moment of candor took me by surprise and I could do nothing by smile, nod and salute. Our duty assignments came next and I was hoping to be working out of Britain, Skara Brae or even out of Yew, but instead I was sent east, to the city of Vesper. We were dismissed and were given report times for our new units. I had three days.

    My first day I rode out to where my parents were buried, under that great oak tree I sat and ate lunch, remembering old times knowing I would not be back this way for some time. I made my way back into the city just before nightfall and stopped by the guild hall. Master Porter and some of the guys were headed over to the Cat’s Lair for a few drinks; Hans and Sam were with them so I decided to tag along. Being young and not having drunk a lot of ale in my short years, I quickly became drunk as the guilds-men got me round after round in celebration of my success. I awoke the next morning at the guild hall feeling as if my head was caved in by an ogre. Recovering all morning, I said my farewells just before lunch and headed across town to hitch onto a caravan headed to Vesper. Catching a caravan was easy, most welcomed the extra security of having a guardsman along for the trip.

    Arriving around mid-day the following day, I bid farewell to my traveling companions and made my way to the guard post and barracks. Once I arrived I went and saw the Lieutenant on duty, as I approached the desk I saluted and said, “Guardsman Cero reporting for duty, Sir.” The Lieutenant looked up from his papers and responded, “About time, go find Sergeant Valentine, he will be your Squad Leader.” With that I saluted and headed into the barracks.

    As I made my way around I asked if anyone had known where Sgt. Valentine was located. Everyone seemed to know roughly were, but could never pin point his location. I later discovered after searching for an hour in the relatively small barracks that I was the butt of a joke, a sort of initiation, and that I had indeed found Sgt. Valentine, twice, only to be sent somewhere else to look each time. Only after they realized that I had caught on to the game did Sgt Valentine reveal himself. “We had you going there, Sergeant Valentine, but you can call me Sgt Val,” he said as he shook my hand. “Let me introduce you to the rest of the squad and get you a bunk.”

    Sgt. Val took me over to a large room which would be our squad area. There sat another four guys around a table playing cards. As we approached the table Sgt. Val said, “Here sits the finest squad in Vesper.” The guys kept playing their card game as he continued, “That there is Corporal Vicera, but you can call him Mace. To his left is Wilson, his right is Vargas, and this large fellow with the two aces in his hand is Otto.” That drew a scowl from Otto and a quick laugh and folding of the cards from the rest. Sgt. Val then took me over to an empty bunk and said, “This here bunk is yours, it used to belong to Wolf our medic. He took his leave and returned home, that is why you are here to fill his spot. The boys don’t get hit often but when they do you are going to fix ‘em up or I’ll ship you out.” He continued, “Get settled in and come join us, chow will be in a few hours.” I threw my stuff on the bunk and took it all in for a minute. With a deep breath I started to put my stuff away and realized all that changed over the last few years.

    I finished up and headed back to the table, grabbed a chair and sat down to learn more about the squad. As we talked I learned the squad was from all over Britannia. Sgt. Val was from Trinsic, Mace from Jhelom, and Wilson from the woods of Yew, Vargas from the sands of Magincia and Otto from the mining city of Minoc. We talked of family and I told them my tale. The night came and went and early the next morning Sgt. Val woke us, “We only have a week to get young Cero here trained up on our tactics till our next patrol, after that its trial by fire,” he said with a smirk.

    Over the next week I learned everyone’s strengths and weaknesses. Sgt. Val was a born leader, a master with the sword and shield, and equally proficient in battle tactics and communication of those tactics. Mace was a true warrior, large in stature he preferred a double bladed axe and the speed and blood-lust at which he used it was almost scary to watch. Wilson was one with the woods; he loved his bow and could track just about anything they said. Vargas, tanned from the beaches of island life used a shield and war mace with precision. Otto was a massive man who could wield his war hammer as if it were a toothpick. I rounded out the squad with my broadsword and the ability to keep these guys in the fight.

    My first patrol came and went; in fact the first month was relatively quiet. In our time off we trained, honed our team skills and just came together as one. I felt like I knew these guys my whole life. It was during my second month in Vesper that I finally saw action. We were just mounting up for a patrol to the north when a report came in of a nobleman being kidnapped on an adventure in the north forest. The report said lizardmen were involved. I had never seen a lizardman before and only heard about them in stories. We rode hard out across the north bridge towards were the report came in from. It did not take long for Wilson to find the trail. “Lizardmen alright,” he assured us, and we slowed our pace to follow the trail. A short time later Wilson called for a halt, dismounted, tossed the reigns of his horse to Sgt. Val and stalked off down the trail. Returning only a minute later, nodded and said, “Four Sarge, better use a bit of stealth so they don’t harm their captive.” Sgt. Val nodded and turned to issue orders when Wilson interrupted, “And Sarge, there is a troll nearby; sounds of the fight may bring it in close.” “Alright, good work Wilson,” replied Sgt. Val before turning to address the rest of us. “Dismount. Mace take Vargas and Cero up the right side, Wilson, Otto and me will go left. Watch out for that troll and wait for Wilson to take the first shot.” “Roger,” responded Mace and we all dismounted and broke off according to orders. Just head a short distance through the trees laid a small camp in a clearing. Four lizardmen and a human chained to on side. We used hand signals to pick our targets and waited for Wilson to shoot, all the time looking over our shoulders for the troll that was in the area.

    Poised and ready to strike, Wilson’s arrow sunk into one of the creatures arm and it let out a great hissing sound. The five of us crashed through the tree line as another arrow took the same creature in the leg; that first lizardman never got another shout off as Otto landed a crushing blow with his hammer right down on its skull killing it. Sgt. Val rammed a second lizardman with his shield knocking it to the ground. The creature tried to defend itself from its back, and was successfully blocking Sgt. Val’s sword till Otto dropped his hammer onto the creature’s mid-section giving Sgt. Val a clean shot for a killing blow. The other two creatures did not have any better luck. Vargas easily squared off with one, blocking with his shield and landing a few blows with his mace. While Mace and I poked and slashed at the last until Mace got a clean shot, taking the creature’s head clean from its shoulders. By that time Vargas was just finishing up smashing the skull of the lizardman he had squared up with.

    Immediately Sgt. Val gave orders, “Cero see to that captive, the rest secure the camp.” I untied and took the gag from the nobleman, checking for any injuries, nothing but a few bruises and scratches from the lizardmen claws. I had just got done wrapping the man’s head when we felt the first tremor. Everyone’s head picked up and off to the side we heard Wilson, “Troll from the west and coming in quick.” Sgt. Val was quick on the orders, “Vargas with me up front. Mace take left and Otto take right flanks. Cero, Wilson, watch our backs and protect the nobleman.” Without even an answer everyone moved as instructed.

    Moments later the monstrous troll came crashing through the trees. It was a forest troll, larger and meaner then the regular stupid beasts, and this one smelled blood. As it came through the trees it spotted Sgt. Val and the main group of us in the camp. Wilson let fly an arrow that stuck in the beast’s chest but did no real damage. Towering nearly twice the height of a human, the troll charged, came to within an arm’s reach of Sgt. Val and Vargas and took a swing. Deflecting the blow with their shields and attempting to counter with their weapons, they were sorely out matched. Otto and Mace broke from the sides, each taking a leg. Otto aimed for a knee and Mace trying to hamstring, before both crossed around back of the beast and made for the opposite sides. The beast howled and turned to swing at its newest opponents, but Sgt. Val and Vargas each took a swing and at the troll’s legs. Vargas scoring a hit to the same knee Otto did, then rolling off behind the creature.

    Hit and run tactics would do the beast in. Wilson put another two arrows in the beast, one in the neck and the other right below the left eye that stuck from its cheek. The troll was foaming at the mouth it was so angry and when Otto and Mace made for their next pass the creature flung its arms down and out in a desperate defensive move. One of the creature’s fists clips Otto sending him out wide, the other causing Mace to dive into an evasive roll to avoid being hit.

    As soon as I saw Otto get hit I made for the area where he landed. He was lying in a heap unconscious but very much alive. It would take a lot more to kill that man. I pulled a healing potion from my bag and poured some in his mouth, trying not to make him choke. Once I had enough in him I pulled my sword and made for the circle forming around the beast. It was beginning to tire and slow down form the numerous small wounds it was suffering. Back and forth we all went, poke, move, poke, and move. Arrows stuck out of it like a pin cushion, and finally the troll fell to a knee. Mace seeing an opportunity charged from behind. Trying to draw its attention the rest of us feigned a strike. Mace jumped burying his axe with a loud crack into the back of the monstrous skull, bearing the troll down below him, dead. Seeing the creature defeated I returned to Otto’s side, he was just coming too. Helping him to his feet we walked back to the troll corpse where Mace was still trying to free his axe from the beast’s skull. Sgt. Val was trying to help, laughing about how deep he buried the damn thing. Wilson and Vargas ran back to collect the horses.

    Putting the nobleman on Sgt. Val’s mount, and helping Otto back onto his, the rest of us rotated out walking to make the trip back to town as fast as possible. We dropped the nobleman off at the healers for some rest and Otto refused to stay saying, “Nothing a few bottles of ale won’t fix.” We returned to the barracks to drop our gear and horses before heading to the tavern to retell the tale of what happened to some of the other guardsmen and adventurers in attendance.

    That is how most of my time in the Guard Corp as a patrolman was spent. Going out on patrols, rescue missions and some days just rides through the wilderness where nothing would happen. Once and while we would purge the haunted Vesper Cemetery of all the undead that wandered inside of it, and all the time we would return to the taverns and inns to swap stories with fellow guardsmen and would be adventurers.

    Until one day close to two years in my service. The squad started to break apart. Sgt. Val got a promotion as a training officer in Britain. Mace was promoted to Sergeant and shipped to Trinsic to lead his own squad down south. Vargas wanted to settle down so he returned back to Magincia to start a family. Wilson just wanted to roam the woods of the deep forest outside Yew. Otto was a warrior, he knew it, and went up to Minoc to work as a mercenary. I knew what my goal was, Orcs. We had never run into any of the foul beasts surrounding Vesper, although we tracked a pack of them once for a day and a half before we were forced to turn back because of supplies.

    I headed back to Britain to the Warriors Guild to plan my next move. Times had changed a bit, Master Porter had stepped down, and Rocco was granted the title. Hans and Sam were still around, although they were senior members now, with a bunch of new recruits about. They welcomed me back but I knew it would only be temporary. We spent nights at the Cat’s Lair swapping tales of adventure. It was on one of these nights that I discovered something that would change the course of my future.
  3. Cero

    Cero Well-Known Member

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    Book 4: Revenge


    We sat around the table at the Cat’s Lair listening to a tale of adventure from an old drunk, who was clearly many summers past his prime, and many more ales past his limit, when the door to the tavern opened. In walked a man of middle age, average height with broad shoulders, short hair and a trimmed beard. Sword strapped to his hip, I thought just another patron in for a drink. That is until he turned and headed for the bar and I could see a lute strapped to his back. Sam noticed that the man caught my interest, leaned over and whispered, “Bard warrior.” I nodded in return. Now I have heard of bards before, able to sing, play and weave a tale of great interest to those around them, but never have I heard of a bard warrior, or what it even meant. The man had sat down at the bar, ordered a drink, took his instrument off his shoulder and spun in his seat facing the room and waited. The old man was bumbling through his story still when another patron finally shouted, “Oh sit down and shut up Jacob, let Ro tell us a grand tale.” The old drunk sat down with the help of those around him but not without mumbling under his breath about how good his tale was.

    The man named Ro turned to the patron who cleared the stage for him and nodded. Took a swig of his ale, cleared his throat and began to play. Suddenly all eyes were on the bard, the air began to buzz with the sound of music as he wove a tale of adventure and magic. The tale went on for some time, everyone mesmerized and hanging on his every word. The music stopped and the buzz in the air dissipated. I was left awestruck; sure that he had just cast a spell in the room. Ro finished his drink, tipped his hat to the bartender and headed for the door, strapping his lute on his back as he left the tavern. I finished my half full mug in one giant gulp, turned to Sam and the other guys and said, “I’ll catch up with you guys later,” stood and made for the door without waiting for a reply. I caught up to the man just down the street, and introduced myself.

    “Well met sir, my names Cero.” “Ro,” he replied, extending his hand, and continuing, “What can I do for you?” “What you did back there in the tavern, and your story, it was amazing to say the least,” I said, in which he replied, “Why thank you. But that was just a tale of my travels, I’m headed down the road to another tavern, care to join me?” We traveled down to the Unicorn’s Horn talking about his performance. I followed him while he stopped at three more taverns that night to spin a tale of adventure and each time I was shocked at how his music had gripped the crowd in attendance.

    Listening to his story over and over I thought he must be a great warrior, so I asked him where he learned to do battle, I was dumbfounded by his reply. “Why at Lord British’s Conservatory of course.” “But I thought they only taught bards, actors and play writes,” I answered. “Ah, but the secret is you can use music as a weapon as well,” he continued, “I can show you if you would like. Meet me at the King’s Men Theater on the north side of the city tomorrow, just before noon.” With a nod I replied, “Sure I would love that.” “Excellent, now if you excuse me I must be getting some sleep.” We both turned to go our separate ways when Ro turned back and said, “Oh and Cero, don’t forget your sword.” The night was a restless one as I lay awake anxious for noon the next day.

    I arrived earlier then Ro had said so I waited patiently. While I waited, I noticed a street performer outside the theater. The man was putting on a pantomime of what appeared to be himself trapped in a box, when Ro walked up behind me, “Ready for an adventure?” he asked. “Ready and waiting,” I replied. “Excellent, there is an ogre messing with some miners north of the city, figured we could go check it out.” “An ogre, just the two of us?” I questioned, and Ro with a smile on his face said, “C’mon follow me.”

    We headed out the north side of the city and traveled through the woods till we came to the mountains an hour later. Ro got his bearings and lead us west a bit till we came to a small cave. “In there,” he said, “That’s where they say this ogre has been causing problems.” He continued, “Go over to the opening and coax it out.” “What! You want me to do what?” I exclaimed. “Better to fight it out here, then in that cave, trust me,” Ro replied. I shook my head in disbelief but found myself walking towards the opening in the side of the mountain.

    It was dark with a damp musty smell, but as I stood there I started to call out, then I threw stones, it did not sound like a deep cave but I had no real idea. Then I felt and heard the unmistakable sounds of large heavy footsteps. I started to back away when out of the darkness came a large, fat ogre. It caught sight of me as its eyes adjusted to the change in light, and then started my way. I turned to run but saw Ro standing there, his lute in hand, beginning to play. Two steps from the beast and nothing, I turned back and the ogre stood staring off into the distance as if we were not even there. “It won’t stay like that for long,” Ro said, continuing, “But long enough for the two of us to kill it.” I stood there amazed, when Ro smacked me on the shoulder, “It’s an ogre mate. Let’s get to work, take the left leg and hamstring it, give it a couple pokes and let’s see if we can get a shot at its neck.” We took up our swords and started hacking away. The beast bled from at least a dozen wounds before it came too and panicked, tried to run and collapsed, taking its last breathe in a gurgle.

    “Well I’ll be damned,” I said, “You have got to show me how to do that.” Ro just smiled and said, “C’mon lets head back to town for a drink.” As we walked back we talked about the arts of a bard. The walk turned into a few drinks at the tavern as I learned more. We drifted from stories about being a bard to more of ourselves and Ro learning of my past and my parents. “Sorry to hear that mate, but If you want to be taking on orcs, I can help,” Ro began, “First things first, orcs live in clans, so you want to learn to provoke the stupid beasts to attack each other. I can teach you, but it will take some time.” “Well consider me your student, when do classes start,” I replied. Ro laughed and said, “They began when you lured that ogre out of the cave.” We raised our mugs in a good laugh and drained their contents in one big gulp.

    The next few months were long, as Ro began the painstaking process of teaching me how to play notes on a variety of instruments. After the notes were learned then the basic melodies and songs were practiced, and only after six months of becoming a bard did I finally have success in provoking two creatures to fight each other, they were two rats we had in a box. Ro laughed and said, “Well, it’s a start.” Practice continued and my targets got bigger and more intelligent. When my hands would cramp from playing I would pick up my sword and kept my skills with a blade sharp. Before long I found myself outside of town in the Britain Cemetery provoking the undead creatures and ending the nights sitting around the taverns drinking ale.

    One day Ro came to me and asked, “I think you are ready? Do you want to test your skills out?” I replied, “If you think I am ready. What are we hunting?” “Orcs.” I just stood there stone faced, and he continued, “I have heard of a small fort south of Yew where we can find them. What do you think?” A million memories flashed before my eyes and finally I replied, “Yes, let’s do it.”

    We made our plans that night and packed our bags, leaving through the western mountain pass the next morning. We stopped by the great oak thee where my parents were buried. Ro gave me some space, and as I knelt there I talked to their spirits hoping I was doing them proud and that I was finally going to get my revenge on the foul beasts, even if it were not the exact same creatures. After a moment had past we were on the way north. We opted to go on foot to keep some manner of stealth, traveling just off the road in the forest. The journey was a long one and we were to set camp twice before we would get there.

    The morning of the third day was a cool one in the forest, autumn was just around the corner and as we began the day I could feel my blood pumping knowing what was going to happen. I had done my research; orcs were relatively stupid creatures but were vicious and had a blood-lust like no other. They preferred the clan life so taking them one by one was rarely an option. I had trained with the sword and the arts of a bard, ready to exact revenge on these creatures for what they took from me. It was before mid-day when we crept closer to the location of the fort. I could hear them in the distance and smell the smoke of their fires, we were close.

    We knelt behind a set of trees making a quick battle plan when we heard the grunts and snorts of some of the stinking orcs coming closer. Peeking around a tree, I saw what appeared to be a small patrol, four orcs, coming our way and looked as if they would pass right between the trees we were crouched behind. Looking at Ro and making eye contact we knew what was going to happen. Waiting and ready to strike the first orc carried an axe over its shoulder, and paying little attention to what was going on around it, as it passed between the trees we were behind I leap out and buried my sword deep in its neck. Ro came out with his lute and sent a melody at the next orc in line putting it into a trance like state as the first orc fell backwards clutching at its neck in a desperate attempt to stop the flow of blood leaking from it. I pulled my sword free from the dying beast and went to work with my instrument trying to send a tune into the remaining two orcs and occupy their minds with hate for each other. The third orc came at me in at a rush with a two handed chop of his axe, but Ro was the quicker and got his sword up to parry the beast while the fourth orc let out a great battle cry. I finished playing my melody and the third orc turned and rushed at the fourth, successfully provoking the beasts to fight each other. Ro looking at me with a wicked smile went for the orc standing staring into the distance, seemingly oblivious to what was happening, and with a great chop of his sword took the beast’s head off. Hearing war drums off in the distance we made quick work of the remaining two orcs with planned attacks from behind to take them both at the same time, then retreating into the forest to regroup and see what was going to happen next.

    Removing the water skin from my lips after taking a big gulp, I had a big smile on my face and Ro just looked at me and gave a chuckle. “We are not out of the woods yet my friend, if more come and find that mess, this place will be swarming with the ugly creatures,” he said. “Well then, let us not keep the stupid things waiting,” I replied. We circled around to the north and made our way through the trees looking for more orcs, when we stumbled upon two of the beasts chopping at a tree. I took up my lute as the two creatures worked at the tree and sent a melody in their direction. They had been alternating their swings at the tree, and mid chop they stopped and looked at each other, then one buried its axe into the chest of the other sending it to the ground in a heap. It had a strange look of confusion as it stood there over its dying companion, and put up little resistance when we came charging in from behind another set of trees.

    At this point you could hear the commotion back in the other direction of our first encounter, the drumming took on a different tune and we knew that the first pile of bodies had been found. “Sounds like we are going to have our hands full mate,” Ro said, and I just nodded with a more serious look now. Just then a deadly howl erupted from only a few yards away and as we turned we could see an orc standing, axe in hand and looking at us with pure hatred. The beast charged and covered the short distance in only a few seconds, I began to work my sword blocking and parrying the creature’s wild swings as Ro took up his instrument and sent a peaceful melody at the creature. The orc slowed his swings and stood in a trance, making it an easy kill, but the real damage was done already. The great howl the beast let out when it found us had alerted the rest of the creatures of our position and we could hear more crashing through the trees to our south. Noticing our folly we looked at each other and with started for the north, the chase was on. It did not take long for the orcs to find the second set of bodies and find the trail we were making as we ran north.

    We ran for a few minutes and then stopped to catch our breaths and evaluate our situation, when only a moment later the first few orcs broke through a line of shrubs and spotted us. Both of us going for our instruments and loosing a barrage of music at the creatures, but there were more just behind those and we were quickly out numbered. Leaving those were had just put into trances, we made our way north again but the orcs quickly gained on us, filled with blood-lust for seeing their fellow orcs dead on the ground. We turned to fight, Ro taking up his sword to defend me as I put two into a trance that turned them on each other, and then I rushed to Ro’s side and gave him time to put another in a peaceful state. More orcs came and back and forth we went as they trickled in, provoking, pacifying and having to fight when we had to.

    Soon there were a dozen orcs standing around us, either fighting each other or standing in a peaceful state as the line of orcs on the chase trickled to nothing. I was bending over at the waist, hands on my knees, sword and lute in my hands trying to catch my breath. Ro knelt on one knee, sword sticking in the ground next to him and clutching his lute. “Good gods’ man, what the hell did we just do,” He said. I just shook my head for a moment, then replied, “I have no idea, but we are not done yet my friend,” standing and looking around at the creatures still around us. “We better get killing these foul things before they come too,” I said, and Ro looked at me, “We could just leave them, it will be sometime till they come around and figure out what happened.” “Not a chance,” I said with a stone cold look on my face before continuing, “You think they would be so merciful if we were in their spot?” Ro stood and said, “No I guess you’re right.” Systematically we tore through the last of the creatures till they all lay dead around us, fifteen of the beasts, with the seven we killed in the south totaled twenty two.

    Ro looked at me in disbelief as we sat around the camp fire that night. We had made our way back south with haste, as to distance ourselves from the area in case the orcs had sent out more scouts looking for their lost kin. “That was some unbelievable stuff back there today mate,” he said. “Yeah I am not sure anyone will think it true,” I replied, “But we did good,” and laughed just shaking my head still wrapping my head around the day. Ro started to laugh also and took up a water skin filled with wine.

    We staggered back into town two days later, with the rest of the return trip being an easy walk south. That night we made our rounds at the taverns of Britain to spin our tale of slaughter at the orc fort. Many were skeptical when the tales were through but still many more were quick to buy our next round.

    A week later Ro and I sat around a table one evening. “I’ll be heading back out there soon,” I said. “Where, back to that fort, are you mad?” Ro replied. “No, but I feel I may never rest till there are no more of those wretched creatures walking Britannia.” Continuing I said, “I have tasted their blood, and have quenched my revenge for my parents, but I cannot help but fear that they will continue to terrorize the lands and repeat what they did to me with other innocent people. I will use my skills that I have learned for good, and make it my life’s purpose to hunt these creatures and make the country side safe again.” “Well mate, it is a noble cause, and I will help where I can, but I think I will be sitting this next one out. That last battle has left my sword are tired and my drinking arm thirsty, if you know what I mean,” replied Ro, and with that he toasted and took a drink from his mug.

    The next morning I had packed my bag and headed out the western mountain pass again, not knowing if I would return.
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  4. Cero

    Cero Well-Known Member

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    More to come as Cero travels the multiverse! Hope you enjoyed the read as much as I enjoyed writing it!
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  5. Cero

    Cero Well-Known Member

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