Imperial1917
09-26-2013, 04:25 AM
Notes:
I intend this to be a long-term writing exercise.
I have not yet written enough to put a chapter number to this first post.
*Glop glop*
Isus cursed under his breath as he once more pulled his boot from the muck. The once shining steel was now dented under the thick layer of grime that seemed to encase it as surely as it encased his foot. Putting the freed foot forward, he drove it into the greenish water again. Isus felt his foot sink into the mud below.
A chuckle came from ahead and Isus looked up at his companion. Not-So-Bad didn’t quite live up to his name in Isus’ mind, but he was better than most of his kind. Not that that was saying much. He moved ahead seemingly unhindered through the swamp as if he had cast a Swift Swim spell on himself. Isus would have suspected him of it if he hadn’t known better.
He looked over at Isus and smiled. Or maybe he was simply baring his teeth. Isus doubted whether Not-So-Bad’s people, if they could be called that, understood the concept of smiling. “Careful there, friend. The swamp hasn’t tasted fresh steel in a while, methinks. If you don’t watch your step, it might eat well tonight.”
Isus glared at him and forced his way through the muck once again. What did he pay this fool for? To stand there and watch him drown? Isus would have thought even one such as Not-So-Bad would understand the concept that he would not get paid if Isus didn’t get what he wanted. But then, Isus wouldn’t put it past him to be hoping that he drowned so he could loot the corpse. He certainly wouldn’t get the gold without Isus’ approval while he still drew breath.
“Just focus on where we are going.” growled Isus. “Leave the swamp to me.”
Not-So-Bad shrugged. “Very well.” Turning, he added, “We are almost there now.”
Whatever Isus thought of Not-So-Bad, he was true to his word. It wasn’t long before they crossed a shallow stream and mounted what appeared to be a small hill that had lost much of its shape. Standing at the crest of the hill, Isus looked down at their destination.
It was humbling.
Stretched out before them was a small cluster of buildings. They were centered on a small road and crossed a small stream as it went down the center of the village leading to a stone wall. The wall enclosed a large structure of wood and included a walkway to a tall tower opposite it. Water lapped at the shore next to these structures. Small pegs of wood stuck up from the water. Across the road lay another tall structure of wood, likely a trading house. Beyond that, Isus could see nothing.
There were no people.
For that matter, there were no signs of habitation at all. The road was empty. The houses were desolate and abandoned. The trading house, though still standing, had no smoke coming from its chimney and the roof appeared to have collapsed into the topmost floor.
Isus wasn’t sure if Not-So-Bad had seen his grimace, but he still said, “It is just like I told you before. This place has been abandoned since before your time. Before my time too, if I am honest.” He bared his teeth again, but quickly hid them as he saw that Isus was not amused. “I don’t know what it is that you hope to find here.”
Turning to his companion, Isus said to him, “I don’t know either, but I know this: I have come too far to just turn back now.”
Sighing, Not-So-Bad said, “Very well. As you wish. Come, I will show you through this place.” He started to walk into the village but turned back to look when he realized that Isus was not following. “Well?” He said, “You coming or not? I assume that you want this done before dark.”
Isus looked curiously at him. “You are coming in with me?”
Not-So-Bad laughed. “Of course I am! I don’t know what you are looking for, but this isn’t a ancient ruin or something like that. Just an old, abandoned village. No reason for me to hang around outside while you get to poke around.”
Nodding, Isus followed him in.
The village was an even sadder sight up close than it had been from far off. Now the extent of damage that time had done was clear. Moss and other greens covered the buildings and much of the wood was going to rot. Holes in roofs, too hard to see from a distance, were all too clear now. The small bridge that had crossed the stream had collapsed and the remains of the corroded timbers which had obviously made a crude dam at some point were finally being washed away. Even the stonework which made up the foundations of many of the buildings were pock-marked and turned color from exposure to the elements without maintenance. A small, thick mass of green on the ground surrounded by a rusted metal rim marked where the trading house’s sign had fallen and rotted away.
As he walked through the village, Isus tried to turn his mind from the sad thoughts of what had become of this place to why he had come here. The guide led him down the main road past the trading house towards the building behind the stone wall. Isus saw that the wood of the walkway was sagging, likely from retaining water when it shouldn’t. He was quite certain that a strong enough wind would bring it low soon. Then he saw to his anger that the door of the building was knocked down. Clearly looters had already been here.
He stopped. Not-So-Bad noticed this and turned to look at him. No, that was not the building he was here for. The man had been very clear about that. The building he was looking for was nothing so grand.
Past the trading house. Yes, it is past the trading house. There is a small pit with some moss in it there. Beyond it is a lighthouse, but that isn’t what you want. What you want is the houses there. Yes, the houses. Well, not really houses. More like shacks. Yes, that’s what they are, shacks. There are a few of them. I don’t remember how many, I swear! But there aren’t that many! That I remember! Most of them are already broken down. Ignore those ones. The one you are looking for wouldn’t be broken down, I think. I don’t know why, but I think it will still be standing. It will be the one on the far right, close to the water…
A shack. He was looking for a shack.
“Well, friend, if you are looking for a shack, I know there are a couple over by the old lighthouse.”
Isus started, realizing that he had spoken aloud. Looking at Not-So-Bad, he wondered how much he suspected now. It was no matter.
“Show me.” he replied firmly.
Not-So-Bad led him past the old trading post. There, they found a pit. It was overflowing with swamp-water. The moss-covered liquid lapped at the doorsteps of a number of broken-down wooden shacks. Isus stopped at the edge of the pool. Not-So-Bad, already wading in, turned to him.
“Stay out here.” said Isus. His voice gave no room for dispute.
Not-So-Bad nodded. Wading back to Isus, he stopped. Passing him, Isus crossed the pit, his boots once again being suckled by the grime. There were a few shacks, but Isus knew which one he wanted. Even Not-So-Bad knew which one he wanted. All of the shacks were run down in some way or another. One might be missing a door or a bit of roof or have a window where there wasn’t one before. All of them, that is, except one. One sitting pretty in the far right corner of the cluster.
The door was locked. Of course it was locked. One last obstacle, right? Wasn’t that always the idea? After all this time, just this one thing lay between Isus and his goal. All the blood. All the sweat. All the miserable days and uncomfortable nights. They all came down to this bloody bit of wood between him and his goal. No matter. No silly lock would stand in his way.
Stepping back into the muck, Isus grounded himself as best he could. Drawing his sword, he carefully lined up the blade with the center of the door. The lock was not a typical one. It was a bar that blocked the door from the inside. The small system of string that was designed to let a person enter by moving the door block had long since rotted away. There was only one way in.
The first shaft of light that entered the dim interior of the shack may indeed have been the first shaft of light it had seen in decades. Isus would probably never know. What he did know was that the door and its bar proved no barrier in the end, no matter how good condition they were in. Little by little, Isus hacked the door open, his fury fueled by all the things that he had done up to this point; all the things that he had endured. By the time the last splinter of wood bounced off of his armor, one might have looked at the door and been certain that whoever had done such a thing was not one to trifle with.
After a moment of recovery, Isus looked back across the pit. Not-So-Bad still stood there, watching him. Though he clearly strove not to show it, the surprise was evident on his face. Isus guessed that he had a lot of big-mouthed clientele that didn’t live up to their words. Isus was not one of them.
Turning back, he looked into the shack. The light streaming in from outside was that of a setting sun and thus not that grand. Still, Isus could see clearly enough. It was a small shack. Immediately in front of him against the far wall was a hammock. Deflated and torn sacks lay on the ground. There was also a barrel with its lid off and smears of dried blood around the lid. Keeping his sword handy, Isus proceeded inside.
The interior was still dim, but Isus could still see. Near the back wall to the left was a small table with two benches. There were dishes, the clay cracked and dusty, on it. To the right were more barrels, all with their lids off. One of them was on its side on the ground, the inside clearly empty like all the others.
Isus’ boot kicked something. Looking down, he saw a body. Well, not really a body. Such implied meat. There was no meat on this body; only bones. Stark white bones. The skeleton, obviously of the previous occupant of this shack, lay on its stomach, a thin sack-clothe covering it. Its mouth was wide open.
Isus knelt cautiously, poised for action. The corpse was postured so that its right arm and body were covered under the cloth. Reaching forward, Isus gripped the fabric with his free hand. Resisting the urge to shut his eyes, Isus pulled it back sharply, throwing it behind him with a whirl of long-dead air, his sword poised to strike.
The body lay motionless on the floor.
Sighing, Isus looked at what he had found. The skeleton had nothing more on it. Nothing that was, except for a single gauntlet. It was a curious thing. Reaching forward, Isus gripped it and pulled sharply. The skeleton, long having it, seemed to move to protect it for a moment. But only for a moment. Then it lay still again. No foul magics were here to bring it against its defiler.
Looking at the gauntlet, Isus knew it was an important thing. The metal it was made of was of a golden color. Looking at it, he saw that inscriptions were carved deep into its surface alongside great runes Isus knew were of an ancient tongue. A small inscription, clearly newer than the rest, was of a figure in plated armor, two spheres of plate on the breast, and a helmet the like of which Isus felt he had seen before, but could not remember where. Holding the gauntlet, Isus could feel that it was more than a suitable piece of armor. He knew it was.
Looking at it, Isus knew his quest was over.
Carefully removing a long strip of cloth from his person, he wrapped the gauntlet in it. He would look into its mysteries later. Standing, he tucked the gauntlet away behind his armor. It would be safe there. Taking one last look around the deserted shack, he shook his head. Then he left.
Not-So-Bad was still standing where Isus had left him. As Isus finished crossing the pit, he met Isus’ eye.
“Did you find what you were looking for, friend?”
Isus paused.
“No.”
I intend this to be a long-term writing exercise.
I have not yet written enough to put a chapter number to this first post.
*Glop glop*
Isus cursed under his breath as he once more pulled his boot from the muck. The once shining steel was now dented under the thick layer of grime that seemed to encase it as surely as it encased his foot. Putting the freed foot forward, he drove it into the greenish water again. Isus felt his foot sink into the mud below.
A chuckle came from ahead and Isus looked up at his companion. Not-So-Bad didn’t quite live up to his name in Isus’ mind, but he was better than most of his kind. Not that that was saying much. He moved ahead seemingly unhindered through the swamp as if he had cast a Swift Swim spell on himself. Isus would have suspected him of it if he hadn’t known better.
He looked over at Isus and smiled. Or maybe he was simply baring his teeth. Isus doubted whether Not-So-Bad’s people, if they could be called that, understood the concept of smiling. “Careful there, friend. The swamp hasn’t tasted fresh steel in a while, methinks. If you don’t watch your step, it might eat well tonight.”
Isus glared at him and forced his way through the muck once again. What did he pay this fool for? To stand there and watch him drown? Isus would have thought even one such as Not-So-Bad would understand the concept that he would not get paid if Isus didn’t get what he wanted. But then, Isus wouldn’t put it past him to be hoping that he drowned so he could loot the corpse. He certainly wouldn’t get the gold without Isus’ approval while he still drew breath.
“Just focus on where we are going.” growled Isus. “Leave the swamp to me.”
Not-So-Bad shrugged. “Very well.” Turning, he added, “We are almost there now.”
Whatever Isus thought of Not-So-Bad, he was true to his word. It wasn’t long before they crossed a shallow stream and mounted what appeared to be a small hill that had lost much of its shape. Standing at the crest of the hill, Isus looked down at their destination.
It was humbling.
Stretched out before them was a small cluster of buildings. They were centered on a small road and crossed a small stream as it went down the center of the village leading to a stone wall. The wall enclosed a large structure of wood and included a walkway to a tall tower opposite it. Water lapped at the shore next to these structures. Small pegs of wood stuck up from the water. Across the road lay another tall structure of wood, likely a trading house. Beyond that, Isus could see nothing.
There were no people.
For that matter, there were no signs of habitation at all. The road was empty. The houses were desolate and abandoned. The trading house, though still standing, had no smoke coming from its chimney and the roof appeared to have collapsed into the topmost floor.
Isus wasn’t sure if Not-So-Bad had seen his grimace, but he still said, “It is just like I told you before. This place has been abandoned since before your time. Before my time too, if I am honest.” He bared his teeth again, but quickly hid them as he saw that Isus was not amused. “I don’t know what it is that you hope to find here.”
Turning to his companion, Isus said to him, “I don’t know either, but I know this: I have come too far to just turn back now.”
Sighing, Not-So-Bad said, “Very well. As you wish. Come, I will show you through this place.” He started to walk into the village but turned back to look when he realized that Isus was not following. “Well?” He said, “You coming or not? I assume that you want this done before dark.”
Isus looked curiously at him. “You are coming in with me?”
Not-So-Bad laughed. “Of course I am! I don’t know what you are looking for, but this isn’t a ancient ruin or something like that. Just an old, abandoned village. No reason for me to hang around outside while you get to poke around.”
Nodding, Isus followed him in.
The village was an even sadder sight up close than it had been from far off. Now the extent of damage that time had done was clear. Moss and other greens covered the buildings and much of the wood was going to rot. Holes in roofs, too hard to see from a distance, were all too clear now. The small bridge that had crossed the stream had collapsed and the remains of the corroded timbers which had obviously made a crude dam at some point were finally being washed away. Even the stonework which made up the foundations of many of the buildings were pock-marked and turned color from exposure to the elements without maintenance. A small, thick mass of green on the ground surrounded by a rusted metal rim marked where the trading house’s sign had fallen and rotted away.
As he walked through the village, Isus tried to turn his mind from the sad thoughts of what had become of this place to why he had come here. The guide led him down the main road past the trading house towards the building behind the stone wall. Isus saw that the wood of the walkway was sagging, likely from retaining water when it shouldn’t. He was quite certain that a strong enough wind would bring it low soon. Then he saw to his anger that the door of the building was knocked down. Clearly looters had already been here.
He stopped. Not-So-Bad noticed this and turned to look at him. No, that was not the building he was here for. The man had been very clear about that. The building he was looking for was nothing so grand.
Past the trading house. Yes, it is past the trading house. There is a small pit with some moss in it there. Beyond it is a lighthouse, but that isn’t what you want. What you want is the houses there. Yes, the houses. Well, not really houses. More like shacks. Yes, that’s what they are, shacks. There are a few of them. I don’t remember how many, I swear! But there aren’t that many! That I remember! Most of them are already broken down. Ignore those ones. The one you are looking for wouldn’t be broken down, I think. I don’t know why, but I think it will still be standing. It will be the one on the far right, close to the water…
A shack. He was looking for a shack.
“Well, friend, if you are looking for a shack, I know there are a couple over by the old lighthouse.”
Isus started, realizing that he had spoken aloud. Looking at Not-So-Bad, he wondered how much he suspected now. It was no matter.
“Show me.” he replied firmly.
Not-So-Bad led him past the old trading post. There, they found a pit. It was overflowing with swamp-water. The moss-covered liquid lapped at the doorsteps of a number of broken-down wooden shacks. Isus stopped at the edge of the pool. Not-So-Bad, already wading in, turned to him.
“Stay out here.” said Isus. His voice gave no room for dispute.
Not-So-Bad nodded. Wading back to Isus, he stopped. Passing him, Isus crossed the pit, his boots once again being suckled by the grime. There were a few shacks, but Isus knew which one he wanted. Even Not-So-Bad knew which one he wanted. All of the shacks were run down in some way or another. One might be missing a door or a bit of roof or have a window where there wasn’t one before. All of them, that is, except one. One sitting pretty in the far right corner of the cluster.
The door was locked. Of course it was locked. One last obstacle, right? Wasn’t that always the idea? After all this time, just this one thing lay between Isus and his goal. All the blood. All the sweat. All the miserable days and uncomfortable nights. They all came down to this bloody bit of wood between him and his goal. No matter. No silly lock would stand in his way.
Stepping back into the muck, Isus grounded himself as best he could. Drawing his sword, he carefully lined up the blade with the center of the door. The lock was not a typical one. It was a bar that blocked the door from the inside. The small system of string that was designed to let a person enter by moving the door block had long since rotted away. There was only one way in.
The first shaft of light that entered the dim interior of the shack may indeed have been the first shaft of light it had seen in decades. Isus would probably never know. What he did know was that the door and its bar proved no barrier in the end, no matter how good condition they were in. Little by little, Isus hacked the door open, his fury fueled by all the things that he had done up to this point; all the things that he had endured. By the time the last splinter of wood bounced off of his armor, one might have looked at the door and been certain that whoever had done such a thing was not one to trifle with.
After a moment of recovery, Isus looked back across the pit. Not-So-Bad still stood there, watching him. Though he clearly strove not to show it, the surprise was evident on his face. Isus guessed that he had a lot of big-mouthed clientele that didn’t live up to their words. Isus was not one of them.
Turning back, he looked into the shack. The light streaming in from outside was that of a setting sun and thus not that grand. Still, Isus could see clearly enough. It was a small shack. Immediately in front of him against the far wall was a hammock. Deflated and torn sacks lay on the ground. There was also a barrel with its lid off and smears of dried blood around the lid. Keeping his sword handy, Isus proceeded inside.
The interior was still dim, but Isus could still see. Near the back wall to the left was a small table with two benches. There were dishes, the clay cracked and dusty, on it. To the right were more barrels, all with their lids off. One of them was on its side on the ground, the inside clearly empty like all the others.
Isus’ boot kicked something. Looking down, he saw a body. Well, not really a body. Such implied meat. There was no meat on this body; only bones. Stark white bones. The skeleton, obviously of the previous occupant of this shack, lay on its stomach, a thin sack-clothe covering it. Its mouth was wide open.
Isus knelt cautiously, poised for action. The corpse was postured so that its right arm and body were covered under the cloth. Reaching forward, Isus gripped the fabric with his free hand. Resisting the urge to shut his eyes, Isus pulled it back sharply, throwing it behind him with a whirl of long-dead air, his sword poised to strike.
The body lay motionless on the floor.
Sighing, Isus looked at what he had found. The skeleton had nothing more on it. Nothing that was, except for a single gauntlet. It was a curious thing. Reaching forward, Isus gripped it and pulled sharply. The skeleton, long having it, seemed to move to protect it for a moment. But only for a moment. Then it lay still again. No foul magics were here to bring it against its defiler.
Looking at the gauntlet, Isus knew it was an important thing. The metal it was made of was of a golden color. Looking at it, he saw that inscriptions were carved deep into its surface alongside great runes Isus knew were of an ancient tongue. A small inscription, clearly newer than the rest, was of a figure in plated armor, two spheres of plate on the breast, and a helmet the like of which Isus felt he had seen before, but could not remember where. Holding the gauntlet, Isus could feel that it was more than a suitable piece of armor. He knew it was.
Looking at it, Isus knew his quest was over.
Carefully removing a long strip of cloth from his person, he wrapped the gauntlet in it. He would look into its mysteries later. Standing, he tucked the gauntlet away behind his armor. It would be safe there. Taking one last look around the deserted shack, he shook his head. Then he left.
Not-So-Bad was still standing where Isus had left him. As Isus finished crossing the pit, he met Isus’ eye.
“Did you find what you were looking for, friend?”
Isus paused.
“No.”