The Warden
Posted on 24/08/07 17:48
Warden stepped from the doors of the clergy barracks in New Goldenaxe. The fresh mountain air kissed his lungs as he straightened his belt and stepped out into the captured city. He pulled his arms back stretching out the leather straps that held the studded leather pauldrons in place over his shoulders. The joints in his foeshredder creaked slightly as he flexed his hand forming in and out of a fist. The weapons was a recent addition to his armament having been given to him a few days earlier after its previous owner expired during a nothrog attack. The taloned cestus fit him well though it took some time to get used to fighting with it, even now he would still prefer the hand a half axe strapped to his back.
Warden let his grey gaze fall once more over his new home. It had been under cooperative dwarf and deverenian control for less then a few days and already the town was busy with activity. Hunters brought in game to be sold to the city, a butcher and his son carved the carcasses, salting some and dry smoking others. Trappers brought furs and pelts to be sold to the growing number of smiths that were busy repairing weapons and forging armor for the guards out on the city walls. Quacks and charlatons sold elixirs and magic trinkets in shaded tents, while a gypsy woman read people’s fortunes with cards and bones.
In the city square several nothrog were bound in stockades, prisoners of war. Their fate was uncertain as the leadership of the city was held in sway until it was decided as to whose law would apply in the walls. Two of them were large dark green skinned savage warriors. Scars marked their bodies in such a riddled fashion it could be confused with a tattooist’s handiwork. Their eyes were shot with their hatred for the new denizens of the city but despite it all Warden paid them no heed. It was the third that caught his eye, the pale green skinned female bore no sign of contempt or vengeance in her gaze. Instead she was calm, quiet and reserved. Her eyes darted from each person in the city studying each in turn. Occasionally she muttered words that Warden could barely make out as bits of dwarven or deverenian.
Turning his mind from his worries he set out down the main section of the city street towards the out walls. Mortar was there reinforcing the towns defenses had he was eager to check up on his old friend. As he passed through the crowds that lined the street eagerly trading for whatever they could from dwarven and deverenian merchants. Through the clamor he could he the whispers of the crowd talk about the recent discussion between the two ambassadors. The destiny of nine was fresh on their minds and worried as to what would happen when the seer emerged from the Temple of Kor to choose. Warden knew of what they spoke, he knew a deverenian seer died in a fever dream babbling of the every same series of events. The same things had been witnessed by him, spoken from the mouth of a blind child in the caverns under the earth during his escape from Ironhall.
Warden already knew he would be called to undertake this journey; it was the reason he wore is armor and weapons. Even now his hammer swung at his side and his blessed axe lay strapped to his back, wrapped in white cloth to shade it from the light of prying eyes. He did not wish to dwell on the comings of tomorrow and chose to focus only on his wish to see an old friend. The wind changed ever slightly washing a warm breeze over the dwarfs face and carrying a whisper into his ears.
“A marked dwarf, how interesting.” The voice was low, sweet with a cunning edge. Warden stopped in his tracks looking to the crowd in all directions and seeing none that could have whispered the words so clearly over the noise of the crowds. A light panting brought Wardens eyes to the ground where a canine sat staring at him with pale blue eyes while it tasted the winds with its slavering tongue. The creature was as large as a feral wolf though it resembled more of a fox in form and figure. The creature stopped its panting tilting its head at the dwarf who gazed it with marked regard. A hunter turned from his bartering with a merchant having taken notice of the animals change in demeanor. The man’s brown eyes fixed on the dwarf as Warden and the beast stared at each other.
Neither had time to mutter a word between them before the crowd broke out into an uproar. Blind had emerged from the city hall with both ambassadors in tow, it was time for her to find those faces she saw in her vision. Warden met the hunter’s eyes for but a moment as he shifted his weight and stepped away coolly taking in the countenance of the man’s light chocolate features framed by ragged brown hair. He had heard only rumors about these people from the southern kingdoms but he had no words as walked away at a marked pace. He made his way towards the edge of town once again set find Mortar and beleaguered by the thoughts of the mornings events running through his head.
---
Geoff Lykken
Warden let his grey gaze fall once more over his new home. It had been under cooperative dwarf and deverenian control for less then a few days and already the town was busy with activity. Hunters brought in game to be sold to the city, a butcher and his son carved the carcasses, salting some and dry smoking others. Trappers brought furs and pelts to be sold to the growing number of smiths that were busy repairing weapons and forging armor for the guards out on the city walls. Quacks and charlatons sold elixirs and magic trinkets in shaded tents, while a gypsy woman read people’s fortunes with cards and bones.
In the city square several nothrog were bound in stockades, prisoners of war. Their fate was uncertain as the leadership of the city was held in sway until it was decided as to whose law would apply in the walls. Two of them were large dark green skinned savage warriors. Scars marked their bodies in such a riddled fashion it could be confused with a tattooist’s handiwork. Their eyes were shot with their hatred for the new denizens of the city but despite it all Warden paid them no heed. It was the third that caught his eye, the pale green skinned female bore no sign of contempt or vengeance in her gaze. Instead she was calm, quiet and reserved. Her eyes darted from each person in the city studying each in turn. Occasionally she muttered words that Warden could barely make out as bits of dwarven or deverenian.
Turning his mind from his worries he set out down the main section of the city street towards the out walls. Mortar was there reinforcing the towns defenses had he was eager to check up on his old friend. As he passed through the crowds that lined the street eagerly trading for whatever they could from dwarven and deverenian merchants. Through the clamor he could he the whispers of the crowd talk about the recent discussion between the two ambassadors. The destiny of nine was fresh on their minds and worried as to what would happen when the seer emerged from the Temple of Kor to choose. Warden knew of what they spoke, he knew a deverenian seer died in a fever dream babbling of the every same series of events. The same things had been witnessed by him, spoken from the mouth of a blind child in the caverns under the earth during his escape from Ironhall.
Warden already knew he would be called to undertake this journey; it was the reason he wore is armor and weapons. Even now his hammer swung at his side and his blessed axe lay strapped to his back, wrapped in white cloth to shade it from the light of prying eyes. He did not wish to dwell on the comings of tomorrow and chose to focus only on his wish to see an old friend. The wind changed ever slightly washing a warm breeze over the dwarfs face and carrying a whisper into his ears.
“A marked dwarf, how interesting.” The voice was low, sweet with a cunning edge. Warden stopped in his tracks looking to the crowd in all directions and seeing none that could have whispered the words so clearly over the noise of the crowds. A light panting brought Wardens eyes to the ground where a canine sat staring at him with pale blue eyes while it tasted the winds with its slavering tongue. The creature was as large as a feral wolf though it resembled more of a fox in form and figure. The creature stopped its panting tilting its head at the dwarf who gazed it with marked regard. A hunter turned from his bartering with a merchant having taken notice of the animals change in demeanor. The man’s brown eyes fixed on the dwarf as Warden and the beast stared at each other.
Neither had time to mutter a word between them before the crowd broke out into an uproar. Blind had emerged from the city hall with both ambassadors in tow, it was time for her to find those faces she saw in her vision. Warden met the hunter’s eyes for but a moment as he shifted his weight and stepped away coolly taking in the countenance of the man’s light chocolate features framed by ragged brown hair. He had heard only rumors about these people from the southern kingdoms but he had no words as walked away at a marked pace. He made his way towards the edge of town once again set find Mortar and beleaguered by the thoughts of the mornings events running through his head.
---
Geoff Lykken
