A way less fearful - Cælin's Tale

[TheBrogueadier]

(((Not got access to NWN2 on weekends but had a few hours spare today so thought I'd quickly write up the background for a new char I've got planned. Hope it's not too pants!)))


A simple story this, not much in the way of heroics, no vast magic, world ending plagues or threats of gods walking the earth.

It’s tale of normal people, and how normal people can be the greatest heroes and stupidest of villians and how it can often take a simple event to change the world as you see it.

I must apologise first, I’m no bard by trade as you can probably tell by the armour, the red ribbons around my wrists must give me away.

I grew up a long way from here, a small farming village that hadn’t changed in dozens of seasons, it was rare for us to see an adventurer of any kind, and those we did see were simply passing through to somewhere else. We had no trouble with goblins, orcs, gnolls or any such beasts, our landlord was a kind and gentle baron who ruled fairly and adjusted his taxes to suit the change of the seasons, he new better than to harm or subjugate his people.

But the peace doessn’t always last, it was late in my 15th turn of the seasons, winter was coming and the year had been a cruel one, crops hadn’t failed or withered but they hadn’t been great, it would be a tight winter for us, but a manageable one. Unfortunately it seemed not everyone had planned ahead like us, and many towns outside of the barons domain had suffered badly. The first we new of this was crops beginning to disappear from our stores, shadowy figures in the night that stole out of the woods and made off with hens and grain.

As Auril drew her frigid veil over the land the attacks increased, we increased the guard as best we could but this seemed to provoke harder attacks, they switched from raiding our stores to attacking our people, young men and girls left battered and beaten by the roadside, anything they had been carrying taken. These bandits took grain carts and plundered the outlying farms for what they could. We can be thankful now that during those cold winter months no-one was killed, many got beaten but broken bones can be set to heal and bruises fade away. But no-one died and no-one was violated, for small mercy's we always give thanks.

Come spring the attacks we still on us, the Baron had supplied us with a dozen men stationed in our village and the same in others that were suffering such attacks. The men were welcomed by us, their bright chain mail and tabards in the Barons colours were a sight to see, they enjoyed the attention they got and we enjoyed the protection they gave, they were brusk at times and carried the scars, both of the body and the mind, of men who’d seen a lot of fighting and battle, but under this they were good souls to a fault.

The days were bright, misleadingly so for it was easy enough to look out of the window and see the glory of Lathanders brightest mornings before nipping outside to discover that while summer held the skies the day itself was still no warmer than the middle of winter. The clearest nights, where you might go out in a thick woollen cloak or two to watch the millions of stars overhead, were the coldest. The beauty of their clearness given edge by the savagery of the frosts come morning. I remember the weather clearly for it was a night like this that things went from bad to worse.

It was the Jacobsons barn where it happened, a couple of the bandits had broken into the barn and were trying to make away with a couple of head of cattle, Jacobsons youngest lad was the one who raised the alarm, fear of the bandits had grown in his mind and he yelled blue murder of the villains at work on his fathers land. The guards set off at once to catch them but the lad remained, his words to the rest of the villagers caught the imagination and fears of those gathered like fire to dry straw, they set out not long after with weapons and vengeance in mind.


The crowd of villagers arrived at the barn to find the guards had already caught the two intruders, my father had taken me along so I could see what happened to them that acts outside the law. I felt for the guards that night, only four of them with their two prisoners in tow they’d aimed to take them back the baron to face justice in a proper court, but a winter of fear and attacks had stripped many villagers of reason, the two bandits were no older than me, a boy and a girl caked with mud and grime, eyes wide with fear and skin turned white with shock. But the villagers only saw bandits, the ones who had harassed, beaten and stolen for a full winter. The guards tried to argue, but faced with the numbers railed against them they had little choice it seemed than to hand over the two.

I see differently now you see, back then I was on the verge of adulthood, young and naive and still towed to and from by my father who saw me as next to take over his role and manage the farm. But even then it seemed wrong, to argue against the barons men and against the justice that my father had claimed was needed for all, how quickly the justice turned from the law of the land to the law of the mob. The two begged and cried for all their worth, they were no different from us and I saw that then, they’d lost their farms and lands a few dozen leagues away and had fallen in with others like them, desperation and fear had driven them to steal rather than talk and it was fear that had led us not to try and seek them out but to knuckle down and fight.

They were strung up just outside of town, facing the woods where they claimed their kin were in hiding. No sudden drop of mercy for these two, their faces so pale were washed with streaks of tears, they were bound and roped then hoisted off their feet and left to dance. I have no idea how long it took, 10, 20 minutes. But it felt like hours, watching these two jig and splutter till their faces turned purple and the twitching began to still. I remember I cried then, not just for their two souls but for everyone who stood around me, those faces who I’d only ever known to be kind and caring turned to stone by anger and fear, hanging two mere children in a revenge they saw as justice. Every time I feel a touch of fear may take hold of me I think back to that night, to the pointless and merciless deaths that started the worst of it. How fear can make even wise men stupid and make a mockery of the law.

We stayed there till dawns rays touched them, the cold of the night turned to a bitter dawn and the tree from where the two had been hung was turned white with frost, the fields around us the same.

[TheBrogueadier]

The weeks that followed saw no fresh attacks, although a night or two after the bodies were cut from the tree and spirited away. Our barns remained safe and our food remained stored. The villagers justified their actions to themselves, taking the apparent cessation in violence to prove that they had been right with their lynching. The baron was unhappy of course, his reputation had been sullied by the rash actions of the villagers but I suppose he could see it for what it was. By the third week he cut the guard, now just four souls stood guard in our town at night, taking it two by two to patrol and rest.

Jacobson's was hit first, middle of the night the house was burnt to the ground, everyone still inside. A few tried to get close enough to pull away the timber jambed under doors and piled across windows but the thatch had taken and the heat was immense. It was all we could do to fetch water and try in vain to extinguish those raging flames.

A few nights later the Tailor farm was torched, although this time the doors remained unbarred and allowed those inside to escape, although the youngest Tailor, fresh born just before the onset of winter breathed to much smoke and never awoke from his sleep.

The next night two of the guards were felled, found strung up the next morning on the same tree the bandits had been hung from, a dozen arrows or more pierced each ones breast. The Baron was in uproar, more men were sent to our town, the only one to have suffered any violence in the past few weeks. Soon we had twenty or so of his men camped on the village green. But the attacks continued, barns and grain stores were burnt at night, Mrs Madgespire, a widower who lived a short walk from town, was found beaten to death in her own house, Alison Croup was battered half to death with her lover while they took a tryst in the shadow of the woods, Jamie Phearson was found with both ears cut off and his mouth staved in, alive but wishing he wasn’t.

The word went out for more help, sent by four runners in different directions to gather aid against the bandits. The next day two of the runners were found naked and dismembered, left a short walk from the village.

The barons guards began to show many of us how to use a weapon, the spear and shield for the most part as it’s versatility in a group is unmatched, in a group a shield wall is hard to break and a good way for the inexperienced to stay alive. Daggers were next, learning the trick of holding the dagger in your right hand at the back end of the spear so that if anyone manages past your spear and up against your shield you can simply stab and slash without having to draw a new weapon.

A few nights later saw an event in our favour, the guards together with two villagers managed to corner five of the bandits, killing two and capturing the rest. An improvised stockade was set up on the village green to house them. The two dead had been young and inexperienced, as had one of the survivors, the other two were of a different sort, hardened men who had fought ferociously against capture, killing one guard and injuring three more. They were no villagers forced out, they’d simply joined the forces in the woods for the fun of battle, playground bullies with swords and cruel intentions.

The mood in the village the next day was buoyant, this turned quickly to ecstatic as one of the runners returned, bringing with him a retinue the likes of which our village had never seen before. For a start there was an elf amongst them, these I’d only heard of in stories before, but never seen one in the flesh. She was as tall as me, skin pale to our eyes but normal for an elf and with long white hair that tinged on the blue. She wore well crafted leather armour, reinforced with the occasional fire blackened metal plate, the leather itself dyed a mottle of browns and greens, while I thought this ugly at the time I soon came to appreciate its reasons. The rest were human, five men and four women, all these were adorned in mixes of medium and heavy armour, each wearing a tabard of white, gold and red. At their lead rode the one who was their leader, a stout blonde man with a neatly trimmed beard and close cropped hair, his armour was well polished and ornate, a strange white metal that at times seemed to have an inner glow, the edging and detailing was in gold, whorls and figures picked out against the breastplates fluting. Around the wrists of each gauntlet a red ribbon was tied.

This group were led though the village to the inn on the green, their horses were taken and cared for by what seemed to be half of the village youths, although I myself stayed even though only the elders of the village were allowed to enter to talk with this group and the leaders of the barons men. The doors were locked, I sat outside and waited.

[TheBrogueadier]

I’d love to say I was deft and agile enough to creep up upon one of those inn windows and hear the discussion inside, or that I sat and waited the hours away for the announcement that came. But neither happened, as real as the threat of conflict was I was a farm boy then, and in the chill of that spring the cows couldn’t bring themselves in or supply themselves with hay, so I trotted home and got to work on the chores.

I managed to sneak back once my chores were done, but the meeting was long over and the knight and his group were sitting amongst the villagers and barons men sharing tales and stories over a few jugs of mead. I sat with one group for a while and fell to chatting with a young lass named Edyð, she was a bright young thing, quick witted with sharp cheeks and a smile that could freeze you heart and melt it all at once.

The next morning sees an awful stink kicked up on the village green, this newcomer, Aelfric of Ilmater so they say, has released the youngest of the captives and sent them back to the woods. Of course the elders of the village are up in arms, they’d been all up for hanging these three as a warning not setting one loose.

With a great sigh Aelfric explained that it was better to resolve a conflict with words, and that despite the deaths it may still be possible to end this without the need for more bloodshed. He was right of course, words are mightier than any weapons and can stop a conflict before it even starts. The trouble here was it had gone on to long, the villagers pride was damaged and no matter what the knight said the villagers would’ve held a grudge.

Apparently the bandit leader thought the same for a few hours later a figure stumbled out of the woods. It was the last of the runners we’d sent for help. His hands were tied behind his back and his eyes had been slashed from his face, from the look of the cuts it had been done a few days since.

Well, as you can imagine a message such as this shook Aelfric, he gritted his teeth and ordered the rest of his retinue to prepare to hunt down these bandits through the woods,

I found myself amongst the muster, handed ill fitting armour a spear and shield, I was scared half to death over what was happening but I found my reasons to fight. I’d fight for the farm I loved, the home I cared for and the parents and siblings that needed protection. I’d not fight for revenge or deeds done, that’s history, but for the future and to protect it.

While I stood I heard that soft voice at my shoulder, Edyð, she was about my age, maybe a few seasons more, we stood amidst the preparation for the fight and talked a while. She asked me about my family and farm, and I about her past. Seems she’d been travelling with Aelfric for the turn of a year or two, but hadn’t found herself readying for a fight like this. She’d been in a few mind, and after talking show showed me a couple of tricks with the spear and sword that the guard’s hadn’t show us.

Aelfric addressed the group, we were to fight at dawn, his elf scout had returned with positions and numbers and he was sure they were already mustering against us, likely for a mass dawn raid set to wipe out the village that had hung the two. He gave a speach, although the details are gone from my mind now I know it was about the burden of guilt, how bloodshed could have been avoided if we’d sought to ask why this was happening rather than jumping to anger, fear and action.

We settled down into an uncomfortable evening, I stayed with Edyð, sharing furtive glances with her as a few of the guards, retinue or villagers shared tales and song over the bonfire set on the village green. Maybe it was the fear of dying, maybe it was the mead that flowed so freely or just the spirit of youth, but out of those hours of restlessness and foreboding I became a man, a tender embrace with Edyð.

...

The morning was bitter, we stood ranged it three walls of shields out in front of the woods, looking up towards those trees that I’d played amongst so much as a younger boy, now waiting for something fearful to emerge and charge down the slope upon us.

Standing at the bottom of a slope normally wouldn’t be much of an advantage when it comes to an open air fight, but the weather was on our side, a thin mist had settled across the lowest part of the field, obscuring the brook that ran across the field in front of us, plus we were out of archery range from the woods, if they had a lot of bows they’d need to step into the open to use them, and we had methods of dealing with that.

The mist seemed to seep in to chill my bones despite the many layers I was wearing, the thick padded layer under my chain hauberk should have kept most of the cold at bay, but not his morning. Along our lines I could see I was not the only one shivering with apprehension. The occasional sob or whimper cut through the ranks as those more nervous than me struggled to hide it.

“You must stand in defence of your futures” Aelfric had shouted at the muster before dawn “No-one loves your homes as much as you, no-one hold your family and friends in higher esteem, no-one will fight harder than you for this. We will fight with you, protect you, offer you healing but the fight is yours to win”

Bold words I thought at the time, but I see the truth of them now, if someone lets others be their shield all the time then they will never learn to defend themselves. The world is a tough place and to survive without being taken advantage of you must learn to defend yourself, first with words and reason, then, if faced with no other choice, with action.

I could see Edyð a few dozen souls away on the wall, her battle finery had changed her looks from sharp but tender to simply sharp, a look fierce determination on that face that only flickered for a moment when she looked my way. Her armour was good, a well build chain hauberk, plated cuisses and sturdy boots plated to the front. Her arms were plated to, her left pouldron slightly larger than the right to deflect blows that might clip over her shield. Her bevor gave her an odd look, like some giant metal jaw jutting out. She held her sallet in one hand, waiting for the first sign of trouble to put it on. Her tabard fluttered slightly in the breeze, matching red white and gold with the others of Aelfrics retinue.

I heard it a second after Edyð jumped and began bucking her sallet in place, a low mournful keening from the woods, a banshees wail mimicked by man. Arrows tore from the woods, darkening the rising sun as they arced high into the sky, plunging a good two score meters short of us, swallowed by the low mists.

Slowly from the woods edge figures emerged, wearing soot blackened or dark tanned armour they advanced, forming into groups as they came, tentative arrows still pierced the heavens to fall short into the mists. The slope of the ground hurried them, turning their walk into a jog and quickly from that to a run, the moment caught them and they charged on, their reckless rush forwards preventing their archers from taking little more than risked shots less they shoot their own ranks, more than a few of their men fell this way. We held firm in face of the charge, as these dark figures screamed and ran towards us, short arms and pole arms held ready to plunge into our ranks, they hit the low mist and carried on, the meters between them and us shortening with every stride.

A score away their charge broke, the low mist and concealed brook turning many screams of anger and battle into shrieks of pain as ankles turned and knee’s twisted, sending our enemy sprawling. We didn’t have much time for celebration, while we’d watched the charge their archers had formed up, another volley of arrows rained down, this time not falling short into the brook and punching into our ranks like deadly rain, a shout from Aelfric warned us, and most of us managed to raise our shields to block the black rain but a few fell, speared through by that deadly storm.

One of Aelfrics retinue swung a fist in reply, scattering some dust as he did so. Almost immediately the dust ignited, sending a gathering ball of flame hurtling across the battlefield in into the amassed archers, it exploded, searing the archers alive, burning flesh and equipment and sending the remaining archers fleeing back into the forest.

Even with the archers gone we still had many to oppose us, the gathering dawn and movement of men had dispersed much of the mist and a good fifty souls now closed on our thirty.

The first group fell upon us and battle was joined.