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The BloodVaine EpicChapter 15: Dire News
Bjarn left the infirmary and called a council of highest-ranking officers of Forestmen and Dark Forest. Graygon was the lone representative for Wolfpack.
“We have trouble brewing around our lands, and I fear it will only get worse. Today the M’Ius, Guardian of the Swamps, was found dead.”
There was an uneasy shifting and whispering.
“Only a demon of great power could kill M’Ius. I consider the killing of M’Ius an act of war, however I do not know who the attacker is. I fear the livelihood of all the Forestdweller Factions is at risk. The Forestmen have been weakened by these recent attacks, and the Wolfpack and Dark Forest by the Fell War. The situation is dire.”
Graygon rose. “I will leave immediately to contact Lord Willem.”
Bjarn nodded. “Having all three leaders of the Forestdwellers together is a wise move. Let us hope Radjar Kath will be able to heal soon.”
Bjarn continued, “I know the Forestmen have harbored a loathing toward the Crusaders for many years, but let us be prepared to take our former enemies under our wing, for scouts have informed me the Crusaders are also getting hit hard by this demon. Reno Regga witnessed the destruction of one of their port cities, and a fleet of their ships were destroyed. Common peril might bring us together and stop the dislike, so let us welcome the Crusaders if they ask it of us.”
Sir Dractor left the infirmary a free man. Well, not totally a free man, but not an imprisoned one either. He thanked the healer for her help in restoring him to fitness, and went in search of the armory, where his weapons and armor had been stored.
A passing servant gave him directions, and soon enough he was in Drullen Bell Keep's armory. It was a large, stone room, filled with racks and other storage devices. Mail shirts, breast plates, embossed helms lined the walls. True, it was a much smaller collection of armor than most fortresses would have, but the Forestmen didn’t wear much armor.
Sir Dractor frowned. He was going to have to suggest that that change. For soldiers that might have to attack the demon-menace that threatened the Forestmen, armor might be able to stand between grave injury and death.
The weapon-element of the armory was not shoddy by any means. Sword after sword hung in scabbards, barrels of spears stood next to rows of axes and maces. Plenty of longbows hung on the walls. And there were arrows. Barrels upon barrels upon barrels of spare arrows. And quivers full of them. And shafts, arrowheads, and fletching for making more.
Sir Dractor found his arms, but didn’t leave the armory right away, nor did he put them on. His armor had taken a bit of a beating in his flight from Leidenheim, and as yet, it had not been seen to. He polished and scrubbed, tapped out the dents in his armour, and sharpened his sword. He re-affixed the straps on his shield, and found a fresh plume for his helmet. Then he dressed in his armor, strapped on his sword, pulled on his helm, and grabbed his shield.
Sir Dractor was ready for war. He left the armory, and set off to find a job that needed doing.
Radjar Kath lay half-dead on an infirmary bed, drowned in a symphony of unease and danger, and weighed down by a broken life of war and death. Radjar's vision blurred and faded, and his head tilted to one side. He vomited. Around him stood healers, desperately attempting to save him. He knew he was dying.
In the infirmary, the healers desperately cast spells and Radjar’s life faded away. Only a good magic-caster could possibly save him. The healers finally brought their spells together, and in one instant, Radjar could not tell if he was healing or dying, the light was so intense, the silence so powerful. But when the light faded, Radjar Kath was very much alive.
Radjar awoke to the crisp smell of breakfast. Though the mood was mostly somber at the time, the people had decided to make the best of what they had; After all, with a band being formed to hunt down the demon, soon many of them could be dead. Radjar walked into the familiar banquet hall. Golden scones and strawberry cordial were being passed around the tables. Unsurprisingly, Gladwheel was not present... he'd been acting strange lately. The security was now under Kellynwyn's temporary command, and Gonderin was attempting to find out the demon’s path. Graygon greeted Radjar warmly as he sat down at a table.
“Did you rest well, Son of Fallmir?” he asked.
“Well enough.” Radjar smiled.
Bjarn was sitting there as well.
“Radjar, Graygon has to depart to Daggerfall soon. Would you need anything from there?”
“I don’t know,” Radjar said. “We still haven’t negotiated a treaty between us.” Radjar turned to Graygon.
“The territories that were disputed- Loughton Forest, the Hemlock River, and the southern provinces- have been deemed as Dark Forest lands.” Graygon informed, “However, Siastrakahn is asked to remain within the Wolfpack, despite its proximityprepaid calling card phone card to Dernhal province.”
“You’ll have to rebuild Loughton as well, Radjar.”
“I have something better in mind. I’ll rebuild it, but I’ll erect a monument in the city that is in memory of a great hero.”
“Yes?”
“His name was Valus Naras, and he was the greatest Dark Forest ranger who ever lived…”
A few seats down, Rosa sat sandwiched between Sir Dractor and Lord Bjarn, sullen as usual. She had no interest in what they were saying until Sir Dractor said, “Lord Bjarn, yesterday I had a look around your armory,”
Bjarn chewed his bacon. “Was everything satisfactory?”
“Yes and no. Your collection of long and short bows is incredible, as is your arrows. The amount of swords and pikes was adequate, though you are sorely lacking in plate armor and chain mail.”
“Forestmen like to be swift and silent, armor would only slow them down.”
“However, I fear you will not be fighting your preferred type of battle in the situation. Instead of roaming the woods and picking off soldiers with well-aimed arrows and short jabs of a spear, you will be holed up in Drullen Bell, with no way of escape. Your talent with the bow will hold of the enemy for a while, but once they break though every armed Forestman and woman will need all the protection they can get, and armor can provide that.”
Bjarn grunted. "Megabloks. Drullen Bell is stored with plenty of ore mined from Wolfpack lands but we only have two resident blacksmiths, and one is...to be honest...quite useless,”
“Then you need to acquire more blacksmiths fast, Lord Bjarn.”
Rosa finished a biscuit, and spoke. “I know of someone who might be of help,”
Bjarn did not understand for a moment, and then he said, “Rodurik! Of course!”
Rosa nodded. “Denderham is not too far south. I’m sure he will join us if we ask him...I...I could go down there myself, the journey shouldn’t take more than a couple of days.”
Radjar Kath, who had been eavesdropping, leaned across Graygon and said, “You will need a guard...I would be happy to protect you…”
Rosa gave him a glare that would have melted artic ice caps. She withdrew her slim knife and snarled, “I can take care of myself, scum!”
“Rosa!” Bjarn snapped, “As true as that may be, Rad has a point. Besides, this is a chance for Radjar to prove his worth…”
Bjarn paused. “Very well. Rosa, you will attempt to convince Rodurik to join us, and Radjar will accompany Rose along with some Dark Foresters and Forestmen. In the mean while, Graygon will contact Willem Blackcloak and Sir Dractor, Kellenwyn and myself will prepare Drullen Bell as best we can. May our quests be successful…”
Lord Bjarn, Kellenwyn, and Sir Dractor split the guard between the three of them. Lord Bjarn took most of the older soldiers, ones that had served under his cousin Isaac for many years, and who’s trust he felt he should gain more concretely. His forces were given the dawn to mid-afternoon watch.
Kellenwyn took command of most of the newer soldiers, soldiers who had spent the greater percentage of their service under Lord Bjarn, but, being less experienced, were in need of the greater time and effort that Kellenwyn could them. Bjarn, as king, simply had too many duties to take on the rookies. Kellenwyn's men were assigned the mid-afternoon to eleven-at-night watch.
Sir Dractor took command of the remaining forces. He had some rookies, some experience men, but more importantly, he had the trouble-makers. There were not a lot of trouble-makers in the Forestman army, but every army has them. Lord Bjarn, viewed as a benign leader, and Kellenwyn, only recently thrown into high command and thus still unsure of himself, were both unable to keep order in the troops.
Sir Dractor, on the other hand, was an unknown stranger. He was completely comfortable with command, having served as a commander of ships and regiments in his homeland, and with trouble-makers he had little tolerance. The fact that the trouble-makers under his command included the men who had shot and brought him in only served to make his men more wary of him.
Sir Dractor’s command was given the night-time watch. They slept during the day, from noon to the start of their watch. The morning was given over to training and practice.
The Forestmen needed little practice with their bows, although Sir Dractor had them fire a few rounds a day. With hand weapons, with the sword, axe, mace, and spear, though, most had a great deal of room for improvement.
Although he was only a middling-to fair archer, that was no problem, because Sir Dractor was not intending on teaching them archery, but the use of the other weapons, with which hardly anyone in Drullen Bell Keep could come close to comparing.
Mainly as a result of the fact that his company was the one receiving the most practice and expert teaching, most the armor that the Forestmen had stockpiled was distributed among his men. Not half of them were armed, but it was a start.
Sir Dractor could only hope that their efforts would prove to be enough to save them against the demon, and hopefully destroy him.
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