One shot stories Options

[Kell-Reevor]

Just a short piece I put together out of boredom. Hope you like it.

*************

It is dark. Two figures traverse a well trodden path out of Suran. The first is a swordsman. The second... his would-be killer.

The swordsman knows of his follower's presence. He listens attentively as the assassin follows. He is clearly untrained, and this may be his first mark. There is no rattle of quarrels or arrows. It is likely the swordsman need not fear a ranged attack.

The swordsman has made an enemy in the Nobles of Suran, and was aware that eventually they would seek his life. But he is not afraid. As a swordsman, death has followed him as a companion he has developed a deep respect for.

His trained ears pick up a sound... a soft and smooth "whif" as a dagger is pulled from a belt.

Spotting a shrine by the road, he approaches. He has no love of the Dunmer, nor has he a love for their Temple, but he is a spiritual man and pays his repects nonetheless as his killer moves in.

He moves his thumb for the guard of his sword. Years of oiling grant it silence as he nudges it from his sheath.

In a flash, he grips the weapon. Rips it from its home. Then thrusts it back, cutting into the assassin's belly. Turning, he frees the weapon with a horizontal slice, then brings the weapon up for a finishing downward cut.

The ordeal is over in a mere span of two seconds. The swordsman flips his sword to remove any blood, then returns it to it's home. He kneels in respect to the life he had just ended. If the nobleman had hired a killer even a tad more competant, the outcome would have been drastically different. If his foe had been equipped with a bow, or maybe armor, or perhaps knowledge of magick, HE would have been the one to die tonight.

He closes the dead man's eyes, mutters a short prayer... then is on his way.

This post has been edited by Kell-Reevor: Mar 2 2006, 02:01 PM

[Agent Griff]

So, this is the next part of this long short story. Enjoy.

~~~
Reginald woke up late in the morning, feeling tired. He had "enjoyed" another one of his sleepless nights. These were nights in which Reginald went to bed relatively early but couldn't fall to sleep easily, and when he did he woke up in the night, cold and shaking. Things of this sort had been happening ever since his cousin Roderick died in battle. After Reginald learned that the slayer of his cousin, Aenar Wolf-Bane, had been defeated in battle by a pair of mercenaries he cursed the day mercenaries were hired, just because they robbed Reginald of the chance to defeat that savage Nord himself. Ever since, he yearned for the day in which he could put his blade through that Nord's cold heart. Now though, he would have to fight for his lord and liege, Lord Regnier Ramorran. When fighting though, Reginald would envision the face of Aenar in the face of all his opponents, even though Reginald had never even seen the man. Such was his hate.

After washing his face with cold water to make the exhaustion go away, Reginald got dressed and summoned his three retainers, which guarded his armour. As soon as they had arrived, Reginald instructed them to help him equip his armour. The chest containing Reginald's tourney armour was soon brought to his chambers by his three retainers. One of them, Reginald's own squire, was the first to help Reginald fit on his cuirass. The boy was tall despite his years, slightly taller than Reginald himself. Reginald was four years his elder yet the difference barely showed. The only signs that Reginald himself wasn't fourteen years old like his squire was his freshly shaven beard which showed clearly. First to be fitted was Reginald's mail hauberk, which protected his chest and the upper sections of his arms. The breastplate came easily afterwards, being custom-made for Reginald. It had the coat of arms of House Collonock at its center, a white gauntlet with a black castle behind it, symbolizing how Reginald's family protected Evermor. The backplate followed afterwards, forming the cuirass itself. The faulds, a skirt of steel which protected Reginald's groin and upper legs were then attached since, much like the cuirass, they were separated into two halves both attached to the breastplate and the backplate respectively. The retainers then fitted on Reginald's neck guard.

After the cuirass was properly fitted on, the pauldrons followed. Large, semi-circular steel plates were attached to Reginald's shoulders, protecting one of the vulnerable sections in his armour. Arm-guards were then placed to protect Reginald's arm pits. A hardy pair of leather gloves then followed, with steel gauntlets worn over them for good measure. Now that the upper section of Reginald's armour was fitted on, then followed the lower section. Greaves of finely polished steel defended his shins while his feet were shod in steel boots. One piece remained: his helmet.

The helm of House Collonock had been formerly held by Reginald's fallen cousin, Roderick. When Aenar beheaded Roderick in one blow, the helm was thankfully left intact and found by a knight who had survived the fierce battle. It was a great pig-faced bascinet, one of the rarer types of helm. The visor had a sharp steel snout protruding from the portion where the mouth would be. When the visor was held up, the wearer of the helm seemed to have a steel horn. Despite the fact that the visor had been down, it didn't help Roderick.

Now that the preparations had been made, Reginald's squire brought him his sword while his retainers strapped his shield onto his left hand. It was a wooden shield coated with steel and, as was tradition, featuring the White Gauntlet of House Collonock.

"A fine job lads." Reginald said with a smile that was visible because his visor was up. The three boys all smiled back, seemingly proud of their work. The armour had been thoroughly polished beforehand and it shined in a blinding fashion, much akin to a jewel. Reginald then turned towards his squire, who was as he always was. Although he had an unassuming look about him, Brynden Greyjoy was the son of a much respected lord who thought his son could learn something by aiding Reginald. "Soon enough you'll have squires of your own tending to your armour, Lord Greyjoy."

Greyjoy looked down and smiled, letting off a slight "I am honoured Lord..." as he did. It was enough for Reginald, who set out towards the tournament grounds arranged in the expansive courtyard of Lanark.

Despite the way the day started out, the sun was shining when the four entered the courtyard. Spectator stands had already been erected, with a large arena in front of them. It was big enough for both jousting and melee fighting. Most of the combatants were already there, all flaunting their finest armour. The knights and champions were all queuing to extract a pebble from a bag. From the way Lord Regnier described it, if the pebbles held by two knights matched, these knights would then fight each other. When Reginald finally drew a pebble from the sack, he could see that his pebble had a bird painted on it. When the extracting was finally done, an announcer yelled out a certain inscription on a pebble, and the knights who had the respective pebbles raised their hands, showing that they had the pebble.

"Bear...Wolf...Dragon...Fish...Hedgehog…Eagle..." the announcer shouted loudly as knights raised their armoured fists into the air. When the word 'Eagle' finally came, Reginald raised his hand. As he looked around he couldn't exactly see who had raised their hands in the group of knights. After the yelling was over, the announcer actually named the pairs. "First to fight in the Round of Eight are the noble knights Sir Folcred champion of Solitude and Sir Rupert Umber champion of Baron William Wormwood."

The crowd cheered as the names of several more fights were uttered. When the announcer finally reached the sixth fight, Reginald could actually hear his own name. "The sixth fixture in the Round of Eight is made up of the valiant knights Lord Reginald Collonock champion of Lord Regnier Ramorran and Sir Palamon champion of Elinhir."

It seemed that some had come from really far away to fight in this tournament organized by Count Arcyte. Despite the fact that Reginald wasn't well versed when it came to the history and lore of Hammerfell, he knew a little bit about Elinhir to have some information about the background of his opponent. Elinhir was a predominantly Crown-affiliated town in the North-East of Hammerfell so his adversary would most likely be a Crown. As far as Reginald remembered, the Crowns were involved in a long-going blood feud with two other Redguard factions, the Forebears and the recently established Lhotunics which seemed to be gaining more and more power. Their leader King Lhotun must have been to blame, since he was well known as a cunning politician and plotter throughout High Rock. Officially, Lhotun was not the leader of the Lhotunics, a veteran member of the Knightly Order of Sentinel serving in that position, yet everyone knew that Lhotun actually controlled everything from behind the scenes.

With everything set, Reginald retired so he could watch the matches which preceded his own. The fights before Reginald's match with the Redguard were all fierce, showing what determination the participants had to win. This made Reginald's job even harder, himself being the official representative of Evermor at the tournament. It would have been disastrous if he were to loose any battle, yet alone the first one, for it would seal Evermor's fate. In the first match the Nord defeated the Breton knight who fought under Lord Wormwood after three hotly contended jousting rounds followed by a similar melee won by the Nord. The other five matches went in much the same way, except some cases where one of the combatants showed exceptional skill and defeated their opponents with relative ease. Two potentially dangerous adversaries thus appeared, yet Reginald first had to deal with the Redguard knight.

After the fifth match finally ended, the victor was the young Breton knight Sir Podrick Martell who had shown prolonged stamina during his lengthy match with his fellow Breton adversary. If similar showings of martial skill followed, coupled with the dash his youth gave him, this young knight could well win the tournament. Reginald's match finally came. After receiving his jousting lance from Greyjoy, Reginald prepared for battle. His individual pieces of armour were all well-strapped together and his jousting horse was ready. His black war-stallion looked at him in a nervous way as he prepared to mount the beast and begin the match.

"Champions...begin!" the announcer yelled as trumpets sung the beginning of the match.

Reginald was mounted atop his horse and looking at his opponent when the beginning of the match was signaled. He was holding his lance in his right hand, balancing the blunt end of the lance on the tip of his boot. When the signal was actually given, he gently hit his horse over the belly with his spurs and raised his lance, aiming it towards his opponent.

The Redguard opposing him did the same at the other end of the arena. The fence separating the two lanes was small and fragile yet it stopped the horses from colliding. In battle, two horses colliding mid-charge could spell disaster for both riders. As the horses neared, the Redguard seemed steady and confident in his skill, holding his lance in place as he neared ever more. When they actually passed each other, Reginald thrust his lance towards the neck of his opponent, hoping to dismount him. The Redguard however surprised Reginald by leaning in his saddle at the last moment and dodging the lance aimed for his neck. His lance however hit Reginald in the shoulder, yet the impact was weak because of the Redguard knight's awkward position.

When the two horsemen finally reached the end of the lane they both turned their horses quickly. Reginald was angry he missed the Redguard at the last moment yet he fought hard to suppress his anger and focus. As he neared his opponent Reginald almost thought he could see the Redguard smiling through his helmet. When the moment of impact came, it was almost as if the crowd had been silenced. Before he actually hit the Redguard, Reginald leaned to the right in his saddle, as a feign. Right in the moment of impact, he quickly drew back into his original position yet kept his lance in a lowered state. The Redguard thrust his lance towards Reginald's previous position, hitting only air, while Reginald hit his opponent clean in the stomach. The Redguard leaned heavily to the opposite side of the saddle and one of his boots left its stirrup yet he seemed to hold on to his horse. After a few moments however he lost grasp of the horse's bridle and fell, stirring the dirt beneath and dirtying his armour.

At that moment Reginald raised his jousting lance high in the air and cried out with joy. At the end of the lane he could see his two retainers along with Greyjoy laughing and smiling, holding his sword while the others held his shield in preparation for the melee.

"Wonderful showing my lord!" Greyjoy cried out as Reginald threw him the lance he had just used. Despite impact, the lance had not splintered, pushing the Redguard to the edge of his saddle. Reginald removed his helmet and threw it to one of his retainers, shouting a cry of relief while he looked at the sun. His face was red and sweat poured down his forehead.

"Keep that lance Brynden, it has been lucky today, it will be lucky another. We might yet have use for it." Reginald said as he poured some cold water on his face so he could cool down. The crowds were cheering Reginald's name as he dismounted his horse.

"As you wish, milord." Greyjoy said briefly as he gave Reginald his sword. The retainers of Sir Palamon were helping him get up from the dirt. His armour was stained with dirt and his face was blood-red once he took off his helmet yet he didn't seem to suffer from the hit he had just received. He even bowed slightly to Reginald when he noticed that Reginald was looking at him. Reginald was quick to do the same, showing courtesy to his opponent. "Do not rest however thinking that you've won. The melee remains to be beaten."

"Of course Brynden. My sword and my shield, if you will." Reginald replied as one of the retainers carefully strapped the shield to his left arm and Greyjoy have him his sword. Raising the sword in the air, he gave a salute to both Count Arcyte and Lord Regnier.

As soon as Sir Palamon had equiped his own melee weapon, a curved sword, the actual melee was ready to begin. The fence separating the two jousting lanes was hastily removed as the two combatants entered the edges of the arena. They were about thirty yards apart. The Redguard was standing on the opposite side of the arena, holding his curved sword in a high guard position. He was wearing lighter armour than Reginald, a light steel cuirass coated with bronze over a scale-mail hauberk with light leather pauldrons protecting his mail-clad arms. Protecting his legs was a long mail skirt and a pair of steel greaves to protect his shins. On his head he had a steel helm coated with bronze just like his cuirass, with the visor pulled up so it would give him a wider field of vision. This showed that Reginald's opponent was either a seasoned knight or an inexperienced squire freshly knighted.

Whatever the case, the two opponents approached each other. Reginald brandished his heirloom, the blade of Collonock, along with his shield while his opponent held his scimitar high. The crowd was silent as the two warriors got within ten paces of each other. With a short bow by both combatants, the battle was ready to begin. Reginald looked at his opponent carefully, looking him in the eye. The Redguard didn't move his view from Reginald's eyes either, staring at Rginald for a few moments before charging. When he did charge the Redguard did so furiously, lauching a storm of blows against Reginald's defense. The Redguard moved so quickly that it seemed Reginald was fighting four scimitars at once, not one. He parried with both his arms, deflecting blows with his sword and parrying with his shield. After a sustained barrage, the Redguard managed to slash Reginald against the chest, leaving a dent in his cuirass. It was nothing more than a shock for Reginald however, the Redguard would have to do better than that if he wished to defeat the Breton knight.

Reginald's was slowly weakening his defence, trying to make his opponent tire himself even more attacking. Even as he continued his savage barrage, the Redguard's iniative lessened and his blows grew weaker. Reginald on the other hand had only been defending and still had much of his original stamina. After blocking a high slash with his sword and parrying an upward diagonal cut with his shield, Reginald began his counter-attack. He ran towards the Redguard, aiming for the vulnerable portions in his armour. The Redguard, being more lightly armoured, retreated and backed away from Reginald. Reginald feigned slashes so that his opponent wouldn't know his intentions precisely. After swinging his blade in a wide arc, the Redguard backed away even more. Following up with his attacks, Reginald swung his blade once more, yet the Redguard manage to deflect the blade to the side and kick Reginald, maintaining the distance. As Reginald staggered back, dazed by the kick, the Redguard raised his scimitar so he could attack the lightly defended back of Reginald's neck. The blow came and it would have slain Reginald where he stood, if he wouldn't have moved. In a surprising move, Reginald head-butted his opponent with his helm, leaving a dent in the Redgaurd's cuirass. The Redguard however felt the brunt of the blow in his stomach, and it was clear to see.

As his opponent staggered, Reginald followed with a quick upward slash. Blood flew, robbing Reginald of his vision for a moment. When he opened his eyes once more, his enemy was laying on the ground with a small pool of blood forming around his head. Reginald's blow had slashed the Redguard clean over the face, almost severing his nose and blinding him in one eye. The fact that the Redguard's visor was up had been the reason of his downfall. Seasoned knight he might have been, yet that was a mistake which cost him dearly. Sir Palamon was not dead however, merely unconscious and bleeding heavily. Seeing his opponent in pain, Reginald threw his sword to Greyjoy, who was standing nearby, and dropped to his knees next to his opponent.

"He's still alive! Come quickly, he can still be saved!" Reginald shouted desperately as he looked to his opponent's wounds. They were grievous indeed, almost crippling to a certain point. If the Redguard had great willpower however, he could survive these wounds and continue to be a knight. He could even learn from this mistake. After all, what is experience if not the sum of one's mistakes?

The retainers of Sir Palamon quickly came to the aid of their master. Picking him up, they carried him to a mage waiting by the side of the arena, ready to give treatment on the spot. As Reginald helped Palamon's retainers carry him to the mage, he could see Palamon's eyes open. Reginald grabbed Palamon's hand and looked him in the eye. Palamon didn't seem to understand what was happening.

"What's going on? Am I dead?" Palamon asked in a rather dazed manner. Despite the bleeding and the wounds, he would survive, Reginald was now sure of it.

"Thankfully not. You are alive and well. Hopefully, we will meet again when this tourney is over. Farewell, noble knight." Reginald said as he left Palamon to be taken care of by the mage. As he returned to the center of the arena, Reginald could once again hear the announcer.

"And the winner is, the truly noble Lord Reginald Collonock! So far, this has been one of the most exciting fights of the tournament. We will surely be keeping an eye on this skilled knight in the future. Now, prepare for a battle of strength and skill, between the Nord Aenar champion of Lord Rickard Helmsleigh and Sir Alexander Greyjoy, champion of Lord Verick Greyjoy." the announcer yelled as trumpets sung once more. Reginald turned to his squire as he heard the words 'Greyjoy'. Brynden had two elder brothers and it seemed that one of them was participating in the tournament.

"That's my brother...and my father too, they're here." Brynden Greyjoy said in an obviously awed way as he looked towards his father standing in the crowd stands, close to Lord Regnier and Count Arcyte. Reginald however soon remembered the first name to be uttered.

"Aenar..." he grumbled as he removed his helm and gave it to one of his retainers. He kept his sword close at hand however and scanned the arena for the one who slew his cousin. This tournament was the opportunity to avenge the death of his cousin, Roderick. He could have slain the accursed Nord there and then, yet he soon realized that it would only have gotten him disqualified. All Reginald could hope was that Aenar was truly as skillful as they said and that he would qualify into the final. For the sake of Evermor, Reginald also hoped that he could do the same.

He soon spotted Aenar himself. Atop his Nordic warhorse, the warrior emmerged from the tunnel leading to the arena. He was followed around by several retainers, all of which had a Nordic look about them. The Nord had an arrogant look in his eyes, much like Reginald envisioned him in his dreams. In his hand held a great jousting lance which ended in a small iron fist instead of the usual blunt wooden point. The harness of his horse bore the heraldic symbols of house Helmsleigh, three red roses on a golden field. The Nord seemed obviously displeased with having to wear these items of heraldry, yet the Breton noble sponsoring him requested such shows of loyalty. On the Nord's shoulders were two small manes of werewolf hair, an item which many saw as the mark of Aenar. Reginald hoped he could hang those pelts atop his fireplace after beheading Aenar.

For now however, Reginald had to rest for his next fight. During this time, he saw it appropriate to watch the remaining fights from the spectator stands, next to his liege, Lord Regnier. In the fights that followed, Aenar defeated Brynden's older brother after a much contested joust and a shorter melee match. The Nord wielded a halberd fiercely in the melee, overwhelming Greyjoy's brother in a matter of seconds. Judging by the Nord's difficulties in the joust, Reginald thought he could defeat him easily yet the melee would be much harder to win. After Aenar's match with Greyjoy's brother was over, the last fight of the day came. By that time, Reginald lost interest in both the outcome of the match and the skill shown by those fighting. Lord Regnier however noticed that his vassal appeared troubled.

"It seems our former Nordic adversary is participating in this tournament. I never cease to wonder when it comes to Lord Helmsleigh for I must say that he is truly eccentric in his manner and ways. Last year he had a beast-master from Argonia serve at his court and now this, a former Nord warlord fighting in his service. What could possibly follow? An akaviri warrior serving as his squire? I would truly marvel at such a sight." Lord Regnier said, geting lost in his musings. Reginald however had a stern face.

"What I would marvel at, my lord, would be Aenar's skill, not his lord's eccentricity. Did you see how quickly he dispatched my squire's older brother?" Reginald asked, looking intently at his lord to show that he was very serious.

"Well...yes. Everyone was left quite awed even though your victory was quite impressive as well." Regnier said, trying to bolster Reginald's confidence.

"I didn't shatter my opponent's helm and neither did I sever his ear in the process." Reginald said in a grim way.

"Hm, it seems you're not in an overly talkative mood today. Well, except if we're talking about unpleasant things like hacking people's ears off. The only thing I can tell you Reginald is to have faith in your own courage and your own sword-arm. That Nord is nothing more than a mercenary fighting for coin and in that way you are far better than him. I myself have not raised a sword in proper combat in five years, yet I can tell that we will leave this tournament in a different way than that in which we came, be it for better or for worse. The rest, Reginald, is up to you." Reginald said with a slight smile, showing the confidence he had in Reginald. "Now let's see who you will fight tomorrow."

As Lord Regnier spoke, the herald started announcing next day's fixtures. After the last fight was over, the little painted rocks which belonged to the victors were all put in a bag and then randomly extracted. After a tense minute or so of silence, the next day's fights were finally announced. After three fights were announced the last fixture finally came and it was apparent that it was Reginald's. Reginald however wouldn't be facing Aenar, for he had already been appointed to fight another Breton the next day in the second match.

"And now, the last fixture for tomorrow's matches will feature the noble Lords Reginald Collonock champion of Lord Regnier Ramorran and Sir Vesemir champion of Falkreath. With the fixtures for the quarter finals set, I wish all you Lords, Ladies and knights gathered here in Lanark good night on behalf of Lord Arcyte and good luck in tomorrow's battles!" the announcer said in a jolly voice as the sun started steadily sinking behind the mountains in the distance, leaving the whole landscape in a blood-red colour.

With steady steps, Reginald parted with his liege lord and returned to his chambers. He would have to rest for he had a hard fight awaiting him the next day. If his luck held out, and his skill didn't lessen he would go on to fight in Evermor's name until he reached the very finals and won the tournament. If he managed to kill Aenar while at it then things would have been even better, yet wishes do not always come true in the way we would want them to.
To be continued
~~~
As you can see, I am quite lazy these days. Playing "The Witcher" all the time doesn't really help, mark my words. So this will be quite a premiere, a three-shot 'one-shot' story. Hopefully, my latest update will be enjoyed. If not...well I always have my witcher to reassure me.

This post has been edited by Agent Griff: Dec 21 2007, 10:11 AM