The stories so far, Edited and ready to roll. Options

[Troika]

OK, this thread will contain any and all stories that are posted on the geocities site and labelled as edited. These babies we don't have to worry about until it actually comes time to stick em in the game.

I will sort out this thread... in other words, please do NOT post up stories yourself... it could lead to multiple copies which could prove problematic later.

Also, please keep posts in this thread to a minimum. This is mainly just a place where people have quick and easy (although not necessarily organised) access to the stories already finished with.

[Troika]

Section: Stories

Written by Vutier (Perseus)

A Knight’s Honor

Written by Vutier


Too bloody a fight to be called a skirmish. Yet it was too small to be seen as a battle.
Things had always gone ill in this region. There had been many vicious fights like the one Vutier and his friends had just witnessed. He would have no part of it.

They no longer heard swords clash together. The fighting had stopped. Initially, the ambushers had an advantage. Knocking the surprised riders of their horses and killing two of them before they could react. It was clear though that the riders that had now lost their horses were better trained and better equipped. The attackers, in their black armor and blue and black shields had outnumbered them.
The knights retreated, holding off a force of marauders and a great number of spears. Wearing silver armor which shone brightly in the sunlight, the knights took their stand on a muddy hilltop. The marauding force charged up, only to get violently beaten back. The knights, though wearing fine armor, carried no shields.

His father Herad had always said: “He who enters battle with no shield will die of his own stupidity.” Then again, his father had been like these men. As a spearman, he had worn the black and blue in service of his lord. Never again would his father swing his spear in combat. The arrogant man had died, defending a small area from those blasted knights.

Still amazed, he looked at one of the knights. He held his sword in both hands, swinging it from shoulder to shoulder. Because he kept swinging, he could not be attacked easily. The powerful blows that mostly landed on the shields of frightened spearmen sometimes knocked a foe down. With no hopes of getting up, a long sword would come down on that foe. “Two soldiers are more powerful than one.” His father must have been wrong. These knights were winning a battle that had seemed hopeless.

But it was not to be that way. Bloodshed continued as another group of soldiers in black armor entered the field. Nine men in black and three in silver, dead in the dirt. Two more joined the nine and one of the knights fell to his knees and buried his face in the mud. The fight raged on. The knights could not be defeated easily, but they would not last against a much larger force. After an hour, only two spearmen and a single knight were still standing. The knight killed one with a quick thrust. The other pierced the knight’s chest near his shoulder, making the bloody silver fall from his hand. The knight, who initially rode up front, picked up a dagger from the mud and killed the last remaining marauder.

At that point, Vutier and his companions ran up the hill. They cared not for the dead. Nor for the lords these men had fought for. Their belongings were all that mattered. They had no family to turn to. They would look after themselves. Jerrik and Alkar had never even seen their parents. Josten’s father and mother had been imprisoned for betraying their lord. Karben’s parents were both dead, his mother died at his birth and his father had fallen in battle. Vutier had never known his mother. His father had always said she left one day. Vutier however, had not seen the lie in his eyes.

“Let us loot these bodies and be done with it.” Business as usual. Karben would take charge here, as he always did. Though he was a good friend of Vutier, he never liked Karben’s need to take command all the time. “Well come on, we haven’t got all day. If we don’t do it now, we will not be gone before the next soldiers arrive. And if we don’t do it, you know someone else will.”

They started with the weaponry. Most of the weapons had belonged to the larger force. Mostly spears and daggers. Fabricated of cheap metal, not worth taking along, but Vutier had taught his friends a way to use them anyway. They used spears bound together and made a small platform to put loot on, so they could carry their new belongings off as quickly as possible. They took the silver swords that were on the hill, and put them on the spears. There was little else of value, the horses had run away and the armor was too heavy to carry off. It was poor mostly, but the knights’ armor was exquisite, so they took their time to bury some of the undamaged armor. The swords would be enough to survive for quite a while longer.

“It’s a pity they did not carry much gold,” Karben spoke finally.

“Though these swords will do fine.” Vutier looked at the knight that tried to get back up.

“Still, my friends, it is wrong. Indeed, these men are dead or dying. But what right have we to steal from them? Assuming we have the right to do so, are we less barbaric than the lord that is supposed to rule these lands?” Josten, Jerrik and Alkar knew arguing would be pointless. Vutier would never stop disapproving what they did to survive. Karben however, felt the need to make his point.

“You’re a fool, Vutier! We have to do something to survive on our own. You know we are too young to go into someone’s service, and no one is likely to take us in until we are old enough. What would you propose? Steal from living people instead? How is that less immoral?”

Vutier shook his head. “No, I know why we don’t steal from living people. Because it is too risky. Because someone with a need to commandeer me is afraid to die.”

“Fighting amongst yourselves will only ensure victory of those that oppose you.”

Karben turned to the knight, who now stood on the middle of the hill, leaning on a large rock. “Stay out of this, do us all a favor and die quickly and silently.” Unimpressed the knight continued:

“That last soldier pierced my armor, yes. But he only managed to cut me in the arm. I cannot hold a sword right now, but he will never do so again.” He grinned. “They call me Krindis. I will not stop you from looting these men, if that is your destiny in life. But you have no right to call Vutier here a fool if you do so. As a knight, I serve the people rather than my lord and do not lie. Not even to treacherous beings such as yourself. And I speak the truth if I claim Vutier was the name I gave my son, before he was taken by an enemy soldier in a raid long ago. Vutier looked at the knight, who seemed more honest than his father had ever been to him and far more honorable.

“Perhaps you would recognize this half amulet? I see you still carry its other half.”

Vutier looked down and held his amulet in his hand. The head and belly of a dragon. He saw the knight holding a similar amulet, with a tail, rear and a piece of its wings that seemed distorted. “I recognize it. Yes, something from long ago. But how do I know you have not lied to me as Herad has? Besides, it did not have wings.”

Krindis smiled, knowing his son was testing his knowledge of the object. “It had wings, but a part of it broke off when your mother bathed you when you were younger.”

Karben looked skeptically to his friend. Was he seriously thinking of leaving with this stranger? “That is quite enough. You should leave now, knight, I have heard enough of your…”

Vutier interrupted: “No, he is my father, I’m absolutely sure of it. Somehow, I knew it when he said my name.”

Josten could not believe what he was hearing. “You will leave us for him?”

Vutier smiled. “I’ve never been here, Josten. You should know that by now. I never agreed to Karben’s looting plans and always seem to disagree with him. However, if you wish, you can come with me. Have a life away from poverty and theft.”

“No, I will not betray my land.” Jerrik spoke loudly, as if he was speaking to an army of men.

“Nor will I.” Alkar, even louder continued. “You will not convince Josten or Karben to follow this man into a trap. Clearly he disapproves of our business.” Karben picked up one of the shorter swords on the hill. Josten gave a spear to Alkar and took two of the short swords. Jerrik, who had gone back for shields, gave them to his friends.

“Father? What will we do now?” Krindis sighed and picked up two daggers. “I see no way to avoid a fight. I will make my stand here. Get yourself a weapon.” Vutier instinctively reached for the sword his father dropped earlier. Its blood wasn’t yet dry.

“Now die, you worthless knights. Pay for the blood of my father”, Karben yelled. The four ran at Krindis. Krindis backed out, took one step to his right, turned and stabbed Josten in his neck.

Jerrik was next to die. He had seen the dagger in Josten’s body and assumed Krindis was now unarmed. He did not see the other dagger because his own shield hid the weapon from view. He charged, and stabbed his sword forward, missing the knight who quickly stabbed him twice.

With Jerrik and Josten dead, Alkar and Karben threw a net over the knight. It was no more than a common fishing net, but Kindris was trapped underneath. Vutier, who saw his father move swiftly in his armor, rushed to his aid. Swinging the sword as he had seen one of the knights do before.

He hit the inside of Alkar’s shield, and quickly slashed the sword across the chest. Only Karben was left. Though Vutier fought the best he could, he was destined to lose. Finally, Karben gained the upper hand and moved in for the kill.

“You see your death. Look at it again because it is the last you will see.” Karben smiled at first, then looked surprised and gasped for breath. A long dagger had pierced his chest between the shoulders.

“Indeed it is the last thing you will see,” said Krindis.

“Father! You have stabbed him in the back. I thought knights considered that to be a cowardly.” The tall man looked at his son.

“No, my son. Saving those you love is more important than honor. Remember that as long as you live.”


I still remember