On The Road To...

[Kinsman Oron the Wolf]

This is a short story I wrote as an introduction to an RP thread, to put me in a given area. Hope you enjoy it...

How do I get myself into these situations? I wondered to myself. I had been on foot for two days, tracking the mob of goblins that had ambushed me. It was near dusk, my horse had caught their scent, a moment before I did. He threw his head about, and whinnied loud. Goblins!! I would know that stink, anywhere. Suddenly the sound of crossboows rang out. I was fortunate that my scutum was slung over my back, it saved me from the pair of bolts, that would surely have taken my life. My horse, was not so lucky, he caught a couple in his flank and bolted. Mad from the pain and fear he ran as fast as he could. I tried to reign him in, but he was too far gone. I had no choice but to bail, before he broke my neck, running through the forest at this pace. I cast down my boar spear, and flung off my small shield, took my feet from the stirrups, and let the wild beast slip from under me. I struck the ground hard, tucking head and shoulder, I manged to roll to a stop. Bruised and dazed, but not seriously hurt, I stood up and shook the cobwebs from my head. I took a quick mental inventory. Spangenhelm still on my head, thankfully Sword and scramasax, still in their scabbards, good. Leather satchel with some food, and suplies still slung over my shoulder, and fortunately still closed. Horse bow, still on my back, quiver, empty. d**nit!! I lost my arrows in that race through the forest. My light leather armor seemed none-the-worse for wear after my tumble. Right, I had better get myself some cover, no telling how many of those foul little beast might be out here. I quickly work my way back down the trail my horse had been running. Without much trouble, I am able to locate my scutum and boar spear. I pluck out the small, crude, black bolts from my scutum. There is a dark oily sheen to them, poisoned. I feel a little better having them back in my possession. I would have felt better if i were not missing two dozen arrows.

Darkness is begining to fall, and I do not stand a chance against any serious numbers in this thick forest. So, I slip silently into the deep woods seeking sanctuary, some spot I can put my back to, if they should find me.

I make it through the night, unoticed. With the light of dawn just begining, I am off. I retrace my steps back to the site of my gracefull dismount, and see the tracks of maybe a dozen or so goblins. They appear to be tracking my horse. For a breif moment, I consider heading the other way, and leaving this whole unpleasant incident behind me. That would have required a level of common sense that one rarely uses in situations like this. My horse, is just a horse, I can buy another in the next town, village, or farm. My saddle bags, on the other hand have things that would be much harder to replace, never mind the fact that I am pissed as Hel, at these foul goblins. And so, I begin tracking them, as the believe that they are tracking me.

And so, for the last day-and-a-half, that is what I have been doing. Tracking them. An easy task really, they have made little effort to conceal their tracks. The bits and pieces of my horse left in their wake ( a knawed upon hoof, a bit of well chewed bone) leaving no secret to his fortune, poor beast... I have rested an hour here, and an hour there, during the day and tracked them as well as I could by night.

Then, I catch a wiff, the stench of rotting flesh. I am drawn from my deep reflections on the past couple of days to the present moment. No sooner do I smell the last remains of my poor horse, mixed with the smell of goblins, than they smell me...

"U-mans!!" one screams. Suddenly a gang of goblins is rushing out of the woods at me. I hit the trail hard, running full out. !/4 mile, !/2 mile, 3/4 mile, the occasional bolt sailing past me, as they chase me. I glance back over my shoulder, and see what I had been hoping for. The fastest goblins have begun to put some distance between themselves, and their slower companions. I begin to slow my pace slightly, allowing the two of them to close a little bit. 1 mile, they are practically upon me now. I can just hear their footsteps. Before they can strike me from behind, I sprint as hard as I can for about 20 meters putting just a little more distance between them and me. I glance quickly over my shoulder, and see them straining hard to match my new pace. That is when I spin around, and plant the butt of my boar spear under my instep, and level it on the charging goblins. Too late for them to stop, the charge up onto it's long, barbed blade, one after the other. The force of their impact is so great, that it shatters the haft of the spear. They both pass by me, scewered together, rolling to a stop somewhere behind me. I unsheath my sword, unsling my shield, and begin charging back at the goblins that had fallen behind.


Kinsman Oron the Wolf

[Kinsman Oron the Wolf]

I race back toward goblins, spread out on the path, chasing after me. They have become spaced on into small groups of two's and three's. I collide with the first small cluster, slamming the metal rimmed edge of my scutum into the mouth of a screaming goblin on my left. The lower half of his jaw shatters into pieces, and he collapses on the ground in a pool of his own blood. I hack the sword arm off at the elbow, of the goblin on my right, as he turns his head slightly to see his companion go down. He screams out in agony, and I run him through. That leaves one more. He throws several hard shots at my left side, I block them easily with my shield, but the force drives me back a little. Then I see the opening, and slash down at the base of his throat. The sword bites deeply into his neck, and through his collar bone, coming to a rest half way throuhg his rib cage. He drops to the ground motionless. I step on his chest with my left foot, and withdraw my sword. I am quickly surrounded by the other six goblins. d**n!! I was not quick enough.

The goblins form a loose circle around me on the road, they seem hesitant to just leap upon me. I hear the sound of a cross bow locking into place. I drop to the ground, as a bolt soars through the place I had just been standing, striking the goblin across from me in the thoat. He falls back, and begins to roll on the ground. From the ground, I recover to my knee, and slice of the leg of the crossbow man. He falls grabbing the stump that remains. His shrieks of agony are enough to raise the dead. I regain my feet . The circle is broken, the four remaining goblins band together. Two are armed with crude swords and shields, one has a short spear, and the other has a pair of short swords. I can see the uncertainty in their eyes. They no longer have the numbers they once did, and I have quickly dispatched more than half of them. I can feel the hesitation in their movements. They are not used to fighting like this. I begin to circle them. The spearman thows a few tentative shots from behid the protecion of the shields. I block them easily. The without warning, I lunge at the florintine fighter on the right side, feint high, and slash low. He does not react quick enough, and is cut to the bone in his right thigh. Unable to stand, he goes down, but is not finished. I begin to back away from them, drawing them away from their lame companion. The spearman tries harder to divert my shield, but his speat tip sticks, for a moment in my shield. That is just enough time for me to slash at the haft, snapping it, the useless spear tip falling to the ground. I recover, and strike at the shieldman to my left. His block is weak, and I shear off the top third of his head. Without a sound, he slips to the earth, his dark blood spoiling the road. That was more than the last two could handle, and they break and run.

I pursue them, but i do not have the speed left in me to over take them. They make their way back up the road to where we found each other. As the reach the edge of the road, they stop dead, and turn around. How odd, I ponder, just as I see a large hulking shadow making it's way out of the forrest. The two goblins smile hideous grins at me, as an ogre steps out of the forest, and stands behind them. I stop in my tracks. ****e!! this just got a whole lot uglier.

"Kill 'em!!" the ogre comands, pointing his huge hand in my direction, a huge, iron bound war club resting on his shoulder. The goblins do not hesitate now, and immeadiatly charge me. I back pedal a few steps, trying to make a little distance between me and that d**n ogre. the goblins quickly close with me. I waste little time or effort dispatching both of them. I step away from the remains of the goblins, eyeing the ogre, as he eyes me. I can see that he is not amused with me, but I do not see any fear in his eyes, at all.

The ogre begins to thunder toward, his long legs making up ground rapidly . Without stopping, he swings his massive club at my head. I roll out of the way, but am unable to strike him. He turns and charges back at me . This time, I try to stand my ground, he slows as he closes with me. He swings the war club down at me again, and I dodge the blow, slicing savagely at his unprotected thigh. My sword did not bite his thick hide. I pause a moment in puzzlement, and that is enough. He strikes my shield with his return blow, destroying it. The blow glanced off of my helmet, ripping it from my head, and sending me head-over-heels, one way, and my sword, the other. I regain my feet, the pounding in my head, threatining to finish me off, and stare incredulusly at the unwounded ogre. He sees the confusion in my eyes, and begins to luagh out loud.

[Kinsman Oron the Wolf]

Unarmed, I face the ogre, head ringing, while he laughs at me. I remember the sax on the back of my belt, and draw forth the large knife. The ogre begins to laugh harder. "Silly U-man, your tiny sword could not cut me, that little thing will never pierce my hide. Ogres have skin like stone." He laughs some more, as he begins to casually walk toward me, a huge grin on his ugly face.

It did not look good for me, armed with only a knife, how in Hel's cold grip would I defeat this thing, with his tough hide. Then an idea slowly began to work it's way through my aching head. A smile creeps across my face. A puzzled look crosses the ogre's face. "Why you smillin?" he asks. "Oh, I just had a thought, is all." I reply. "What dat?" "Well, I was just wondering if you are as tough as stone all over..." He raises a brow, and ****s his head, wondering what I am talking about. Suddenly I leap upon him, landing my feet on his massive thigh, and grabbing one side of his nose with my left hand. His eyes widden in shock and suprize, and before he can react, I thrust my scramasax hilt deep into his right eye. He wails out in pain, and throws his head back, flinging me into the air like a rag doll. I land on the ground, some twenty feet away, with a loud thump.

Darkness over takes me...

I slowly begin to awaken, as the sun begins to bother my closed eyes. I ache all over, and am not sure if I am alive or dead. I slowly begin to move my fingers, and toes, arms and legs. After what seems like hours of this, I slowly make it to my feet, and through my groggy eyes survey my surroundings. From the position of the sun, I judge that it is almost ten. I have been out for over fourteen hours. I stagger back over to the ogre, every movement sendings waves of fire through my muscles.

The ogre lay there, quite dead, my sax still sticking out of his eye. A look of suprise still on his grotesque face. I step up to him, and pull the knife from his eye. The sound it makes is almost enough to make me retch. I wipe the blade off on his shabby tabbard, and return it to it's sheath. "Well Odin, I will not be joining you today." I say jokingly. I slowly walk over to where my sword lay on the ground, and with great difficulty bend over, and pick it up. I return it to it's scabbard at my side. I look about, and see my spangen helm laying on the ground where it hand landed, a huge dent in it, and the remnants of the chin strap dangling out from within. That may be salvagable, with the work of a decent smith.

I search amongst the remains of the goblins, and find my saddlebags. with some of the contents still in them. My huscarl axe is tied to the back of one of the dead goblins. I find my silver flask on another goblin, and to my suprize the spirits are still within it. I take a few drinks, and the pain in my body softens a little. I wander back down the trail, and recover my spear head.

Then I begin the ardous task of dragging all of the goblins, and their various pieces back to the body of the ogre. I pile them all into a heap, and pour some of my spirits onto the pile. I draw flint and steel from my leather shoulder bag, and strike one to the other. The spray of sparks ignites the spirits, and the bodies begin to burn. It is an ill omen to leave the bodies of your enemies lying about, telling the tale of what has been done here.

I stay for awhile, watching the pyre burn down, slowly regaining some of my strength. It is now well into mid-day, and I need to be on the road, I have already lost much time, and I need to find a town. I need to find provisions. A tavern, a bath, and a night's rest in a bed, that is what I need.

I step out onto the road, tilt my flask back, finishing off the last of the dwarven absynth within, and begin walking... How do I manage to get myself into situations like this?