UnhappyUnion
New Member
(Story based off game 'Stoneshard'. Not required to play to understand, but check it out!)
The legacy of House of der Vyrne rests upon the shoulders of the Maiden Knight, Arna, whose journey had only just begun. Mercenary life was tough, even more-so for herself. Despite being raised as a boy, to the world she is very much still a girl. This overshadowed her pride and honor in the eyes of man - at best she was seen as an passing oddity, at worst she was seen as an affront to the natural order of things.
The ancient custom that enabled her knighthood only stood firmly among the higher born. To the common rabble, it might as well not exist. But even then, all people are subject to the language of force, and Arna spoke that language quite well. Suspicious glances in her direction were met with a stern gaze, jokes about her sex were met with threat, and attempts to grope were met with severed limbs.
This language of force built a reputation. A few admired her, more hated, and a few actively despised her. The Elder Bryant of Hearthwynn was one of the few who despised the existence of the Maiden Knight. And what reason did he have? The petty reason of Arna inflicting a minor wound to his pride.
It was a foggy, dim dawn, a sort where the rays of approaching sunlight smother and struggle to reach the dew kissed flora. Elder Bryant had awoken early as he did every day to survey the perimeter of Hearthwynn - the habits of an old soldier died hard and part of his duty as the Village Elder of Hearthwynn was assisting in the protection of the village. The habit of scanning the perimeter was to look for signs of wolves, seeing that Hearthwynn historically had an issue with vicious wolves.
Such an overwhelming population of wolves meant fauna would eventually become a challenge to hunt, thus the wolves sought alternative food sources, and the limping elder appeared to be a proper meal. Elder Bryant, was leapt on by a bounding wolf, which exited the cover of the nearby forest. Two more followed, a bit more skittish than the voracious wolf who led the charge, but they were eager to fill their bellies with the flesh of man.
Elder Bryant struggled, screaming for aid, while trying to bring his hand to his short sword to draw it with his right, as he tried to keep the wolf from his throat with his left. But the skittish wolf, perhaps a bit more intelligent than one would expect of a wild dog, or perhaps through dumb luck bit down upon his right arm preventing the draw of his blade.
So, with one wolf tackling and struggling against Elder Bryant, another viciously biting his sword arm, and the final one pacing about, building up the courage and energy to swoop in and seal the fate of Elder Bryant - his fate seemed to be all but sealed. He would be beyond help before anyone would reach him if not for a single brave mercenary whose slumber had been interrupted by the cries below.
Arna threw herself from bed at the noise, reacting instantly, as if she had not been asleep at all. She reached for her short-sword which was her sole companion in bed and looked to the window, noticing the wolves accosting a man, a single powerful tug away from tearing him limb from limb. The Maiden Knight acted without thinking, honor and pride moving her to act, and she slammed the pommel of her blade into the window sending the shards outwards to be swallowed by the morning fog.
One hand gripping her blade, one hand clutching the shattered frame to swing out and down. She grunted as shards of remaining glass within the frame dug into her palm, but that pain was only a momentary thing. It would be an eternal wound on her pride if she allowed someone to die so pitifully.
Arna dropped down, landing in the mud with a plop. She twisted her ankle from an awkward landing, but that did not stop her bouncing off her good foot towards the wolf tearing at the Elder's Arm. Her strike hit true, sinking into the neck of the beast. It ran off, letting out a yelp, before collapsing but a moment later. However, before that wolf fell, Arna had already shifted her attack to the one atop the Elder, plunging her sword into the ribs of the beast. Then, she lifted, pulling the carnivorous canine away, and in a swift motion she tossed it aside as she retracted her blade from the wolf's pelt.
She readied herself for a potential follow up attack, either by the wolf tossed aside, or the third skittish one. Her weight was shifted on her left leg, standing lopsided with her legs parted on both sides of Bryant - she stood above his prone form with a practiced stance, blade positioned to strike at any angle. This stalwart show of defiance broke the will of the beasts and they darted off - the wounded one fell dead beneath the fence as it struggled to crawl away, while the skittish ran off the long way towards the town entrance to escape hungry, but with its life.
Perhaps Elder Bryant's pride would have remained being saved by a competent Maiden Knight if it was not for the jovial angle this tale would take on. When things had settled, and a few of the town guard arrived, they closed in to see a cowering bloodied Elder Bryant being protected over by Arna who wore nothing but her baggy evening shirt she slumbered in, torn from the frame as she jumped, half of her bare chest hung loose in the morning.
The story passed from guard to peasant, a point of laughter where Elder Bryant was the butt of the joke.
"Elder Bryant was saved by a woman mercenary with her damn tat' hangin' out!" the story would be shared in some variation of this phrasing.
It became a point of gossip - and to the detriment of Elder Bryant, while to the benefit of Arna who had instantly become something of a local hero prompted by a mixture of the crude humor and heroics of fending off three wolves with nothing but a blade. The people of Hearthwynn held a small feast in Arna's honor, one she was forced to participate in due to her twisted ankle. She was still human, and felt a tinge of humiliation at the crude nature of the heroics, so she would have preferred to seek pasture where she had yet to become part of tavern gossip.
But perhaps such humor was what the people needed in these dark times. Arna was given lodging with a family rather than a tavern room, the local girls all baked bread for her wanting the chance to give their thanks in the form of excessive nourishment, while the men of Hearthwynn kept a more restrained reaction, but a grateful one nonetheless - several chipped in a few coins here and there to pay for the damaged window and the maintenance of Arna's equipment.
This lasted for two weeks, two weeks where Arna slowly warmed up to being a local hero. A bit of pride brought on by a momentary shedding of it. While Arna basked in the peculiar circumstance, Elder Bryant grew more and more vengeful. His own guard, and people under his care, would look at him with smug toothy grins, or outwardly remind him of his failing. It did not come from a malicious place, more-so a place of boredom, seeing that things were all doom, gloom, and toils, so the joke refused to die.
He wanted revenge...
After two weeks, Arna was well enough to walk without a limp, and her left hand could properly grip a shield again after the shards of glass were removed. She met Elder Bryant under better circumstances in the center of town, sunlight shining down, along with a pleasant cool breeze. It was quite the task and a half to even reach the Elder for Arna without a town maiden trying to pass off more bread to her, or some men quietly extending thanks for saving the Elder. But she held too much pride to try and cash in on this glory and she still had to prove herself worthy as a member of House der Vyrne with continual tasks and trials.
"You said you just got a contract. I'd be glad to take it," Arna managed to crack a small smile in the direction of Elder Bryant, a rare sight, but her mood was lightened, "Mostly because I need an excuse to leave town."
Elder Bryant stared at Arna for a moment, before he returned a smile, anticipating revenge, "Sure, sure, gotta' contract. Pay is a good sum, work is simple."
"Wolves?" She teased, feeling friendly.
The reminder of his moment of weakness heated his blood - the only thing maintaining his outwardly friendly front was his scheme, "No, no. Thankfully not." He rubbed the back of his neck, "Right to the north, straight that a'way through the forest stands an old fortress, crumblin' down. Brigands are posted there, sent a bit of a threat last night, need you to deal with their leader, or just get em' to clear out."
Simple enough Arna thought. She raised her hand up, opening her gloved palm, "It will be done," she promised.
Arna took a few moments to gather her equipment, preparing for an excursion. She said her goodbyes to those who ran her down, not going out of her way to say farewells. After-all, she expected to be back, and the only reason she would not return was an untimely end.
It was the typical journey, keeping to the shaded side of the dirt road, shield at her arm ready to protect herself at a moment's notice. Arna wandered north and north, scanning for any signs of the occupied fortress in question. She walked and walked - no sign of her mark, but she pressed on.
She then heard a twig snap - she paused, raising her shield, turning towards the noise. Then, a bolt flew forth, right towards...
...
...
The legacy of House of der Vyrne rests upon the shoulders of the Maiden Knight, Arna, whose journey had only just begun. Mercenary life was tough, even more-so for herself. Despite being raised as a boy, to the world she is very much still a girl. This overshadowed her pride and honor in the eyes of man - at best she was seen as an passing oddity, at worst she was seen as an affront to the natural order of things.
The ancient custom that enabled her knighthood only stood firmly among the higher born. To the common rabble, it might as well not exist. But even then, all people are subject to the language of force, and Arna spoke that language quite well. Suspicious glances in her direction were met with a stern gaze, jokes about her sex were met with threat, and attempts to grope were met with severed limbs.
This language of force built a reputation. A few admired her, more hated, and a few actively despised her. The Elder Bryant of Hearthwynn was one of the few who despised the existence of the Maiden Knight. And what reason did he have? The petty reason of Arna inflicting a minor wound to his pride.
It was a foggy, dim dawn, a sort where the rays of approaching sunlight smother and struggle to reach the dew kissed flora. Elder Bryant had awoken early as he did every day to survey the perimeter of Hearthwynn - the habits of an old soldier died hard and part of his duty as the Village Elder of Hearthwynn was assisting in the protection of the village. The habit of scanning the perimeter was to look for signs of wolves, seeing that Hearthwynn historically had an issue with vicious wolves.
Such an overwhelming population of wolves meant fauna would eventually become a challenge to hunt, thus the wolves sought alternative food sources, and the limping elder appeared to be a proper meal. Elder Bryant, was leapt on by a bounding wolf, which exited the cover of the nearby forest. Two more followed, a bit more skittish than the voracious wolf who led the charge, but they were eager to fill their bellies with the flesh of man.
Elder Bryant struggled, screaming for aid, while trying to bring his hand to his short sword to draw it with his right, as he tried to keep the wolf from his throat with his left. But the skittish wolf, perhaps a bit more intelligent than one would expect of a wild dog, or perhaps through dumb luck bit down upon his right arm preventing the draw of his blade.
So, with one wolf tackling and struggling against Elder Bryant, another viciously biting his sword arm, and the final one pacing about, building up the courage and energy to swoop in and seal the fate of Elder Bryant - his fate seemed to be all but sealed. He would be beyond help before anyone would reach him if not for a single brave mercenary whose slumber had been interrupted by the cries below.
Arna threw herself from bed at the noise, reacting instantly, as if she had not been asleep at all. She reached for her short-sword which was her sole companion in bed and looked to the window, noticing the wolves accosting a man, a single powerful tug away from tearing him limb from limb. The Maiden Knight acted without thinking, honor and pride moving her to act, and she slammed the pommel of her blade into the window sending the shards outwards to be swallowed by the morning fog.
One hand gripping her blade, one hand clutching the shattered frame to swing out and down. She grunted as shards of remaining glass within the frame dug into her palm, but that pain was only a momentary thing. It would be an eternal wound on her pride if she allowed someone to die so pitifully.
Arna dropped down, landing in the mud with a plop. She twisted her ankle from an awkward landing, but that did not stop her bouncing off her good foot towards the wolf tearing at the Elder's Arm. Her strike hit true, sinking into the neck of the beast. It ran off, letting out a yelp, before collapsing but a moment later. However, before that wolf fell, Arna had already shifted her attack to the one atop the Elder, plunging her sword into the ribs of the beast. Then, she lifted, pulling the carnivorous canine away, and in a swift motion she tossed it aside as she retracted her blade from the wolf's pelt.
She readied herself for a potential follow up attack, either by the wolf tossed aside, or the third skittish one. Her weight was shifted on her left leg, standing lopsided with her legs parted on both sides of Bryant - she stood above his prone form with a practiced stance, blade positioned to strike at any angle. This stalwart show of defiance broke the will of the beasts and they darted off - the wounded one fell dead beneath the fence as it struggled to crawl away, while the skittish ran off the long way towards the town entrance to escape hungry, but with its life.
Perhaps Elder Bryant's pride would have remained being saved by a competent Maiden Knight if it was not for the jovial angle this tale would take on. When things had settled, and a few of the town guard arrived, they closed in to see a cowering bloodied Elder Bryant being protected over by Arna who wore nothing but her baggy evening shirt she slumbered in, torn from the frame as she jumped, half of her bare chest hung loose in the morning.
The story passed from guard to peasant, a point of laughter where Elder Bryant was the butt of the joke.
"Elder Bryant was saved by a woman mercenary with her damn tat' hangin' out!" the story would be shared in some variation of this phrasing.
It became a point of gossip - and to the detriment of Elder Bryant, while to the benefit of Arna who had instantly become something of a local hero prompted by a mixture of the crude humor and heroics of fending off three wolves with nothing but a blade. The people of Hearthwynn held a small feast in Arna's honor, one she was forced to participate in due to her twisted ankle. She was still human, and felt a tinge of humiliation at the crude nature of the heroics, so she would have preferred to seek pasture where she had yet to become part of tavern gossip.
But perhaps such humor was what the people needed in these dark times. Arna was given lodging with a family rather than a tavern room, the local girls all baked bread for her wanting the chance to give their thanks in the form of excessive nourishment, while the men of Hearthwynn kept a more restrained reaction, but a grateful one nonetheless - several chipped in a few coins here and there to pay for the damaged window and the maintenance of Arna's equipment.
This lasted for two weeks, two weeks where Arna slowly warmed up to being a local hero. A bit of pride brought on by a momentary shedding of it. While Arna basked in the peculiar circumstance, Elder Bryant grew more and more vengeful. His own guard, and people under his care, would look at him with smug toothy grins, or outwardly remind him of his failing. It did not come from a malicious place, more-so a place of boredom, seeing that things were all doom, gloom, and toils, so the joke refused to die.
He wanted revenge...
After two weeks, Arna was well enough to walk without a limp, and her left hand could properly grip a shield again after the shards of glass were removed. She met Elder Bryant under better circumstances in the center of town, sunlight shining down, along with a pleasant cool breeze. It was quite the task and a half to even reach the Elder for Arna without a town maiden trying to pass off more bread to her, or some men quietly extending thanks for saving the Elder. But she held too much pride to try and cash in on this glory and she still had to prove herself worthy as a member of House der Vyrne with continual tasks and trials.
"You said you just got a contract. I'd be glad to take it," Arna managed to crack a small smile in the direction of Elder Bryant, a rare sight, but her mood was lightened, "Mostly because I need an excuse to leave town."
Elder Bryant stared at Arna for a moment, before he returned a smile, anticipating revenge, "Sure, sure, gotta' contract. Pay is a good sum, work is simple."
"Wolves?" She teased, feeling friendly.
The reminder of his moment of weakness heated his blood - the only thing maintaining his outwardly friendly front was his scheme, "No, no. Thankfully not." He rubbed the back of his neck, "Right to the north, straight that a'way through the forest stands an old fortress, crumblin' down. Brigands are posted there, sent a bit of a threat last night, need you to deal with their leader, or just get em' to clear out."
Simple enough Arna thought. She raised her hand up, opening her gloved palm, "It will be done," she promised.
Arna took a few moments to gather her equipment, preparing for an excursion. She said her goodbyes to those who ran her down, not going out of her way to say farewells. After-all, she expected to be back, and the only reason she would not return was an untimely end.
It was the typical journey, keeping to the shaded side of the dirt road, shield at her arm ready to protect herself at a moment's notice. Arna wandered north and north, scanning for any signs of the occupied fortress in question. She walked and walked - no sign of her mark, but she pressed on.
She then heard a twig snap - she paused, raising her shield, turning towards the noise. Then, a bolt flew forth, right towards...
...
...
