Post by The Smith on Jun 5, 2009 15:02:57 GMT -5
Corwyn
With an easy smile on his face he stepped into the forest, his eyes never wandering back to gaze at the safety of the Wall. Corwyn felt at home in the woods, a place he had spent more time in than anywhere else. 'Oddball' they had called him; 'Vagabond'. To him names did not matter, for he knew who he was. "Yet I miss the singing of birds." Corwyn mused to himself as he moved deeper into the forest. It was true, in the long time they had spent marching north through the haunted forest there had been no birdsong, not even the distant rustling of other animals that had not yet been scared away by the Others. It had seem odd to him at first, being used to the surrounding noise of wildlife, but he had grown used to the eerie silence that inhabited these forests. "It cannot be a good sign." he told the birch that he stepped past, his strides long and assured. He knew how to move silently through the thicket, to avoid snapping branches on the ground and rustling through fallen leaves; had there been any, for the forest beyond the Wall had never known autumn. Or so he assumed.
After walking for about an hour he came to a spot of his liking; a small clearing beneath a large and ancient oak. He set down his sack of provisions, drank from the flagon of water that Euric had insisted he take, and sat down cross-legged. He briefly glanced across the clearing, overseeing the clear sign of tracks to left by one man to his left, before closing his eyes and letting sleep take him.
From a forest he stepped into a clearing, bright with green light whereas the trees only emitted dark shadows. Before him stood four of the blood, their bodies humanoid but their heads that of a dragon. One stood tall and proud, her twin lithe and silent. The third was fierce fiery and the fourth curious and careful. "Kneel." a voice from the forest commanded. He strode to stand before the first and knelt. "No." The voice said, forcing him to look up with curiosity in his eyes. He stood and moved to the second, kneeling. "No." the voice said again. He shrugged in bewilderment and moved to the next, but again the voice told him no. The fourth and final time was the same and he found himself out of ideas. Turning to the forest he waited for the voice, yet none came. "What do you want?" He asked the darkness to no avail. He turned to ask the four sisters but he found them gone, replaced by an ancient and wise heart tree, the face on it's bark a solemn smile. "Man does not kneel to man, Corwyn Storm." The tree told him in a slow and wooden voice. "Then who do I kneel to?" He asked, his voice almost desperate. "Ask not me, Corwyn Storm." The tree replied. He shut his eyes in thought, memories of past dreams like this floating back. No matter what he had dreamed, he had always been himself, yet no one had seen him. Finding his answer he nodded slowly and knelt, a process that made the smile on the old face widen a little. "I kneel to myself, for I am my own master, and no one else. "You are wise, Corwyn Storm." The tree answered. "But many are wiser. Take this gift and think about what I have shown you." The question of what gift the now sleeping tree meant was on his lips when he saw a single nut hanging from a branch. He clasped it with his hand and awoke...
To the sight of an extremely ugly man lunging at him with a blade. In an instant Corwyn was up and rolling away, his own two knives now in his hands. One was long with a curved blade, perfect for slashing, the other shorter and slimmer for stabbing. "Get back 'ere or I'll make this more painful!" His attacker demanded. "Get back? A poor choice of words." Corwyn replied with a gleam in his eye before launching his attack. It was a feign to the man's right and he lifted his short sword to block, but in the last moment Corwyn dashed left, his curved blade slashing open the ugly man's armpit as he swooped past. "You'll pay for that!!" The man replied, and by his drawl it was now apparent he was a wildling. That and his pathetic state of clothes. Corwyn braced himself as the wildling rushed at him, his now useless right arm dangling at his side, while the left still held his sword with an assured grip. Corwyn let the point almost touch him before darting aside, one blade opening the wildling's unprotected belly while the other buried itself in one of his kidneys. His opponent gurgled, fell over and died and Corwyn Storm wiped the blood off his blades.
Something hard struck the back of his head and he fell forward, but remained conscious and on his feet. Tumbling around he saw a second man, this one bald and with an evil scar on his cheek. "Fat Bill was ne'r any good with a blade, but you can be sure I am." The wildling said, his voice gravelly and intimidating. "Fat Bill?" Corwyn asked, his head swimming and his gaze on the skinny dead wildling. "Aye, he got his name before the Others came, before all th' food was gone." He grinned and it turned his face into a mask of pure evil intent. "But you'll be joinin' 'im soon."
It was a torn and bleeding Corwyn Storm who arrived back at the camp that night, his bones aching and his sight blurry. He managed stumble into the tent, surprising Garion, Bree and Cazhio who were playing dice, by promptly stumbling over the table. "Gods, what happened?!" Garion asked as he and Bree slowly helped him to his bedroll. "Oh..." Corwyn replied in good humor "I just had a bad dream."
Corwyn Storm advances to Expert Small Blades
Corwyn Storm advances to Apprentice Green Dreams