Post by The Smith on Jun 13, 2009 12:26:57 GMT -5
It was another mind numbing, cold, dark day of marching. If it was one thing that the lady Shahrizai would take away from the whole journey it would be the abominable cold. Zabella, Shahrizai's long time maid, always put on a brave face along the journey, and not once complained. Her ear was always open for any of Shah's grievances.
“It's so cold.” Rekhmire put the words to everyone's feelings for the group of them. Like the other companions his cloak and hood had a stubborn layer of frost and snow clinging to it. His scarf was coiled around his head and his breath iced up in it. That was all that could be said between them at the moment, for they were all too tired to talk. The snow and ice sucked in whatever sound was made and they began to feel like they were the only ones in the vast land.
It was difficult to determine night from day with the thick clouds looming overheard, it was easy to lose sight of tracks and stray away. Easier still for those not from the continent and had to experience their first winter. It was one of the men, Antony, the foremost rider, that broke the reverent silence. “We're separated from the group.”
Shah looked around them, they had been lulled by the white blankness and meandered silently off the road into a clearing. Shah held a groan in her throat but before it broke she opened her mouth to call out but she was deathly silent as she watched an old tree overburdened by ice and snow teeter and crack under it's weight. It tumbled in an impossibly slow manner. It was young but large, for there was never an axe about to feel the trees in this area, only the off chance hunter braved these wilds.
The thunder gave birth the slow tide of men that could not be deemed men truly. The wights tripped over themselves as much as they did coming over the tree and for some long moments the group of foreigners of Westeros stood shocked and frozen. Only a few of them had seen them this close, the Lady Shahrizai had mostly been at the back of the army, safe from harm.
She sat on her horse perplexed and finally her instincts told her to flee. She turned her horse about slowly in the deep slowly, “Run!” She shouted out. They all formed up and turned to flee, into the arms of several shades of knights, standing tall and rigid. The group had fallen into an ambush. For once Shah feared for her life and she trembled not knowing what to do. If she and her men were on a ship, she would be singing out orders confidently. “To me!” She cried as the handful of men rode up beside her, two men had bows and were knocking them, firing at the wights shambling over the fallen tree.
The Two others began moving forward quickly, the deep snow not much of an obstacle as they seemed to cut through it. Rekhmire, Shah's guard and translator saved them, “On the Wights! Fire up the arrows!” The archers replied by focusing on the fiery arrows on the shambling crew, lighting their arrows diligently before letting them loose. A few of the other men with swords protected the archers from the wights who came much slower than the two Other knights. For those, Rekhmire his one obsidian dagger that was given to him from his lady, who in turn had gotten it from one of the Queen Saella's men.
Shah watched in horror, the wights were coming closer, two had been light on fire been still approached them steadily. The men with longswords rode down the ones that were getting close. Shah clumsily set for her blades sheathed on the sides of her horse, and pulled out one, but remained in place by the archers.
Rekhmire boldly dashed forward at the Others, and Shah loosed a cry of worry. There was not much sound, save for the swords slashing at the wights, the arrows flying through the air and the whines of the horses as they sought to flee from the terror that approached them. Rekhmire had grew up in a minor merchant family, and as a token to the Lord of Light they offered him into the service to the school of a traditional order that provided guards and servicemen to courtesans and richer nobles of the Free Cities. Ever since he was a young boy, he had been trained with blades and acquired the knowledge to be a skillful diplomat's guard. Nothing had prepared him for what he saw this day.
His horse seethed and he dripped the reins tight as he made a mad run at the Others. He closed the distance quickly. For a moment one of the menaces paused in their steps unsure what Rekhmire had planned to do, and a split moment later it found out. Rekhmire slammed his horse into the Other knocking it back several feet, the other jumped back quickly, more wary of what Rekhmire was doing.
God bless him, Shah thought as she swung her blade at the outstretched hand of a wight, which promptly met the snowy ground. The small skirmish between the wights and Shah's men continued, a few of the creatures lay motionless, black smoke rising from their fallen bodies, the slow stench sifting through the air. In calmer times Shah would have been revolted and wretch at the stench, but now was a time for survival. There were so many, coming forth over the broken tree that had provided the distraction to let the Other's encircle the small group. They had slew a a good number, for they were not difficult to dispatch and held no weapons of their own, but they were resilient, and several still crawled along, a few missing hands or arms, trailing a blackish blue blood along the snow. “I'm running out of arrows,” Antony called, and another man echoed the same. Few arrows, but many wights, they would have to rely on their swords, and pray that Rekhmire could take two others by himself.
They Other that had been charged lay stunned on the ground and got up slowly. Rekhmire was still a horse but was not able to fight effectively without a longsword. Instead, his horse was his weapon and he ably used it to kicked back the Other that had gotten up. However, the Other which had avoided the charge looked to pounce, with what looked like an undead grin, its icy blue eyes focused on his attack. It lept forward in bounds and grabbed on to Rekhmire's horse, clawing at it like a wild animal, foregoing the use of his sword for the moment. His chain dangled and chimed with the force of his attacks. This gave Rekhmire the chance to use his weapon.
Shah pierced a wight through it's eye and turned back to look at Rekhmire, she saw the Other clawing at the horse, and Rekhmire struggling to keep control of the animal and use his dagger all at once. She turned back to look at her warriors and her heart shrunk when she saw one of her archers pulled from his horse, the wight's tearing at him much like the Other was pulling at Rekhmire's horse. “No!” She yelled and rode forward into the bunch, hacking as best she could to save her man. There were too many, and she was soon forced to push back. The legs of her steed were going raw, the knees bled and the mouth was bloodied from an unseen swipe by a wight. The field lay strewn with wights and a few of Shah's men that she had known for so long, that had crewed her vessels and had provided striking conversation, for sailors always had many tales to tell and experiences to share. If only Rekhmire can slay those Others... She turned her head to glance at the struggle between man and demon. Her companion had managed to free the dagger and slammed it into the Other's eye. She must have made an exclamation, for Antony turned to her, but his attention cost him his horse's life, and he was brought down in a heap. It isn't dead, she thought, did he use the obsidian dagger? She could not tell if he did from the distance.
The Other reeled and let out a wretched shriek as Rekhmire slammed the dagger into it's eye socket and the tip plowed out behind its skull. For a moment he was relieved and heard a shout from where Shah was, but he did not pay it mind for the moment as he watched the Other writhe and shudder before collecting its senses. Rekhmire's mouth gaped open, did I use the obsidian blade? he thought in agony. In its madness the Other put a fateful blow into the horse and slowly it fell forward into the ground sending Rekhmire into a fall. His training did teach him how to recover from such an act, and he rolled quickly to his feet to engage the enemy.
Shahrizai was one of the few left a horse, the rest had been pulled down and their animals ran off in madness or were killed slowly by exhaustion and the terrible blows by the wights. It had all gone wrong. She fought in a daze and tried to help Antony, who had abandoned his bow and switched to a long blade. The small band came closer to together to fight off the endless wave of attack. She turned to look at Rekhmire, who fought with an Other with his daggers, his vambraces shining even in the low light of a winter afternoon. She though he must have killed one of the Others, but she thought wrong.
Her horse swayed, and before she knew it she was on the ground and being pulled by her clothing away from the fray. Her sword was gone, and she saw it lying next to her horse, the other one, sticking out halfway from it's sheath on the side of the horse. “Nooo!”, she swiped wildly at the hands that were gipping her shoulders and pulling her away. In the moment she thought she would be killed she thought of a few stories about the Lord of Light combating the Great Other the prophecy of the Lightbringer. Her field of vision was blurred by tears that came unwillingly, she wanted to continue to fight but it seemed helpless. She screamed once, a cry from the misery of it all, that her adventure would end like this, and that she would be forgotten. “No,” she said again, her hearing focusing only on the sound her mouth made. For a moment her vision cleared and she saw just 3 of her men left, fighting on. She shrieked for their help. Once, twice, and the third she focused on her voice and the pitch of her voice. She shrieked a third time and the tugging ceased. She swiped again madly forcing the hands off of her and rolled away.
Shah scrambled towards her men that she had last seen alive, and the the horse that had her swords. She did not remember if she crawled or stood, but eventually she was stopped by a hand on her shoulder and she swung madly with her small balled fists slamming them into tough hide. To one who had not been in the battle she would be determined some form of deranged, but the few survivors had experienced what many around Westeros had seen and felt. There was nothing that prepared one for a fight against otherworldly undead creatures.
She continued to squirm wildly in the snow as hands held her steady, “Shah, Shah,” distant voices called to her.
“Father?” she asked wearily.
“No my lady, it's Rekhmire. You're safe.” It was indeed Rekhmires familiar voice through a haze of recollection.
She gave a few last squirms of resistance. “Am I dead?”
“No my lady. You are alive.” His hands let go of her and she sat up in the snow wiping away the fogginess from her eyes.
“What happened?” Shahrizai asked when she looked around her like a newborn at surroundings unfamiliar.
“I slew one the the creatures with an obsidian dagger, but it shattered in the demon's skull.” He showed the hilt of the dagger and onlya small piece of the anti-Other blade remained.
“What happened to the other one?” Shah tested her balance as she slowly stood and Rekhmire helped her up.
“I don't know, that Other that was pulling you away and the wights seemed to have suddenly dropped to the ground. You were screaming and then they just stopped.” Rekhmire slid the broken dagger into a pouch. IT would not be as useful in its current state, but that was to be thought of later.
“Hmm.” Her hands were sticky with her own blood and the bile of the Other that had held her. “I don't remember what happened too well, it was all unclear. I thought I was going to die Rekhmire...” He continued to help her walk as they came closer to the other survivors. Antony had remained quiet by their side continuing to keep a watchful eye on the bodies of the wights and Other's should they rise from their odd slumber.
From the dozen that entered the clearing only a handful remained. Shah began tearing up again as she saw the faces of her long time companions and friends.
“They fought bravely my lady, they died for you, as well as any of us here would do readily if you bid it. Now we must move my lady, we can grieve later.” Antony finally spoke up and Rekhmire nodded his approval.
Most of the horses lay dead or scattered about. Several idled about and were collected along with any valuables. Before leaving they set fire to their own and as many of the wights as they could. The few that remained alive were mostly unscathed, and they made as good time as they could with several on foot and a few on horse. It was difficult to stay awake, but Shah tried her best to keep on alert for any signs of another attack.
They had been through one small hell, and she would do her best to not let anyone to go through that again.
Shah woke up to her maid pouring her some warmed water. “How long have I slept?” Sabella turned her head to her lady.
“A few days, you were restless, and murmured through most of your slumber.” Zbella said matter of factly.
“Oh,” Shah felt embarassed and pulled the covers closer to her neck. She was naked and started to feel the cold of the north. “Did Rekhmire tell you what happened?”
Zbella bobbed her head, “You put them to rest with your voice.”
Shah pinched her arm underneath the cover. “Did you give me anything while I was sleeping?”
Zbella shook her head, “No, just some balm on your shoulders where the Other had grabbed you. Your skin should return to normal in a few days. You have always been talented my lady, the fairest voice in Myr and one of the most sought singers in the Free Cities. I have no doubt it was your voice that ended them.”
Her confidence gave no sign she was jesting, and even Rekhmire and the men could not explain what happened, but Shahrizai did not think that she had been the one to put a stop to the slaughter. Shah nestled into the bed and pillow while Zbella brought a cup to her lips. Maybe it was God, she thought. A small kerchief hung from a post with her house sigil. A siren above a ship and a rose. Or maybe it was me. She smiled and sipped at the cup.
Results
Shahrizai to Master Singing
Rekhmire to Expert small blades
“It's so cold.” Rekhmire put the words to everyone's feelings for the group of them. Like the other companions his cloak and hood had a stubborn layer of frost and snow clinging to it. His scarf was coiled around his head and his breath iced up in it. That was all that could be said between them at the moment, for they were all too tired to talk. The snow and ice sucked in whatever sound was made and they began to feel like they were the only ones in the vast land.
It was difficult to determine night from day with the thick clouds looming overheard, it was easy to lose sight of tracks and stray away. Easier still for those not from the continent and had to experience their first winter. It was one of the men, Antony, the foremost rider, that broke the reverent silence. “We're separated from the group.”
Shah looked around them, they had been lulled by the white blankness and meandered silently off the road into a clearing. Shah held a groan in her throat but before it broke she opened her mouth to call out but she was deathly silent as she watched an old tree overburdened by ice and snow teeter and crack under it's weight. It tumbled in an impossibly slow manner. It was young but large, for there was never an axe about to feel the trees in this area, only the off chance hunter braved these wilds.
The thunder gave birth the slow tide of men that could not be deemed men truly. The wights tripped over themselves as much as they did coming over the tree and for some long moments the group of foreigners of Westeros stood shocked and frozen. Only a few of them had seen them this close, the Lady Shahrizai had mostly been at the back of the army, safe from harm.
She sat on her horse perplexed and finally her instincts told her to flee. She turned her horse about slowly in the deep slowly, “Run!” She shouted out. They all formed up and turned to flee, into the arms of several shades of knights, standing tall and rigid. The group had fallen into an ambush. For once Shah feared for her life and she trembled not knowing what to do. If she and her men were on a ship, she would be singing out orders confidently. “To me!” She cried as the handful of men rode up beside her, two men had bows and were knocking them, firing at the wights shambling over the fallen tree.
The Two others began moving forward quickly, the deep snow not much of an obstacle as they seemed to cut through it. Rekhmire, Shah's guard and translator saved them, “On the Wights! Fire up the arrows!” The archers replied by focusing on the fiery arrows on the shambling crew, lighting their arrows diligently before letting them loose. A few of the other men with swords protected the archers from the wights who came much slower than the two Other knights. For those, Rekhmire his one obsidian dagger that was given to him from his lady, who in turn had gotten it from one of the Queen Saella's men.
Shah watched in horror, the wights were coming closer, two had been light on fire been still approached them steadily. The men with longswords rode down the ones that were getting close. Shah clumsily set for her blades sheathed on the sides of her horse, and pulled out one, but remained in place by the archers.
Rekhmire boldly dashed forward at the Others, and Shah loosed a cry of worry. There was not much sound, save for the swords slashing at the wights, the arrows flying through the air and the whines of the horses as they sought to flee from the terror that approached them. Rekhmire had grew up in a minor merchant family, and as a token to the Lord of Light they offered him into the service to the school of a traditional order that provided guards and servicemen to courtesans and richer nobles of the Free Cities. Ever since he was a young boy, he had been trained with blades and acquired the knowledge to be a skillful diplomat's guard. Nothing had prepared him for what he saw this day.
His horse seethed and he dripped the reins tight as he made a mad run at the Others. He closed the distance quickly. For a moment one of the menaces paused in their steps unsure what Rekhmire had planned to do, and a split moment later it found out. Rekhmire slammed his horse into the Other knocking it back several feet, the other jumped back quickly, more wary of what Rekhmire was doing.
God bless him, Shah thought as she swung her blade at the outstretched hand of a wight, which promptly met the snowy ground. The small skirmish between the wights and Shah's men continued, a few of the creatures lay motionless, black smoke rising from their fallen bodies, the slow stench sifting through the air. In calmer times Shah would have been revolted and wretch at the stench, but now was a time for survival. There were so many, coming forth over the broken tree that had provided the distraction to let the Other's encircle the small group. They had slew a a good number, for they were not difficult to dispatch and held no weapons of their own, but they were resilient, and several still crawled along, a few missing hands or arms, trailing a blackish blue blood along the snow. “I'm running out of arrows,” Antony called, and another man echoed the same. Few arrows, but many wights, they would have to rely on their swords, and pray that Rekhmire could take two others by himself.
They Other that had been charged lay stunned on the ground and got up slowly. Rekhmire was still a horse but was not able to fight effectively without a longsword. Instead, his horse was his weapon and he ably used it to kicked back the Other that had gotten up. However, the Other which had avoided the charge looked to pounce, with what looked like an undead grin, its icy blue eyes focused on his attack. It lept forward in bounds and grabbed on to Rekhmire's horse, clawing at it like a wild animal, foregoing the use of his sword for the moment. His chain dangled and chimed with the force of his attacks. This gave Rekhmire the chance to use his weapon.
Shah pierced a wight through it's eye and turned back to look at Rekhmire, she saw the Other clawing at the horse, and Rekhmire struggling to keep control of the animal and use his dagger all at once. She turned back to look at her warriors and her heart shrunk when she saw one of her archers pulled from his horse, the wight's tearing at him much like the Other was pulling at Rekhmire's horse. “No!” She yelled and rode forward into the bunch, hacking as best she could to save her man. There were too many, and she was soon forced to push back. The legs of her steed were going raw, the knees bled and the mouth was bloodied from an unseen swipe by a wight. The field lay strewn with wights and a few of Shah's men that she had known for so long, that had crewed her vessels and had provided striking conversation, for sailors always had many tales to tell and experiences to share. If only Rekhmire can slay those Others... She turned her head to glance at the struggle between man and demon. Her companion had managed to free the dagger and slammed it into the Other's eye. She must have made an exclamation, for Antony turned to her, but his attention cost him his horse's life, and he was brought down in a heap. It isn't dead, she thought, did he use the obsidian dagger? She could not tell if he did from the distance.
The Other reeled and let out a wretched shriek as Rekhmire slammed the dagger into it's eye socket and the tip plowed out behind its skull. For a moment he was relieved and heard a shout from where Shah was, but he did not pay it mind for the moment as he watched the Other writhe and shudder before collecting its senses. Rekhmire's mouth gaped open, did I use the obsidian blade? he thought in agony. In its madness the Other put a fateful blow into the horse and slowly it fell forward into the ground sending Rekhmire into a fall. His training did teach him how to recover from such an act, and he rolled quickly to his feet to engage the enemy.
Shahrizai was one of the few left a horse, the rest had been pulled down and their animals ran off in madness or were killed slowly by exhaustion and the terrible blows by the wights. It had all gone wrong. She fought in a daze and tried to help Antony, who had abandoned his bow and switched to a long blade. The small band came closer to together to fight off the endless wave of attack. She turned to look at Rekhmire, who fought with an Other with his daggers, his vambraces shining even in the low light of a winter afternoon. She though he must have killed one of the Others, but she thought wrong.
Her horse swayed, and before she knew it she was on the ground and being pulled by her clothing away from the fray. Her sword was gone, and she saw it lying next to her horse, the other one, sticking out halfway from it's sheath on the side of the horse. “Nooo!”, she swiped wildly at the hands that were gipping her shoulders and pulling her away. In the moment she thought she would be killed she thought of a few stories about the Lord of Light combating the Great Other the prophecy of the Lightbringer. Her field of vision was blurred by tears that came unwillingly, she wanted to continue to fight but it seemed helpless. She screamed once, a cry from the misery of it all, that her adventure would end like this, and that she would be forgotten. “No,” she said again, her hearing focusing only on the sound her mouth made. For a moment her vision cleared and she saw just 3 of her men left, fighting on. She shrieked for their help. Once, twice, and the third she focused on her voice and the pitch of her voice. She shrieked a third time and the tugging ceased. She swiped again madly forcing the hands off of her and rolled away.
Shah scrambled towards her men that she had last seen alive, and the the horse that had her swords. She did not remember if she crawled or stood, but eventually she was stopped by a hand on her shoulder and she swung madly with her small balled fists slamming them into tough hide. To one who had not been in the battle she would be determined some form of deranged, but the few survivors had experienced what many around Westeros had seen and felt. There was nothing that prepared one for a fight against otherworldly undead creatures.
She continued to squirm wildly in the snow as hands held her steady, “Shah, Shah,” distant voices called to her.
“Father?” she asked wearily.
“No my lady, it's Rekhmire. You're safe.” It was indeed Rekhmires familiar voice through a haze of recollection.
She gave a few last squirms of resistance. “Am I dead?”
“No my lady. You are alive.” His hands let go of her and she sat up in the snow wiping away the fogginess from her eyes.
“What happened?” Shahrizai asked when she looked around her like a newborn at surroundings unfamiliar.
“I slew one the the creatures with an obsidian dagger, but it shattered in the demon's skull.” He showed the hilt of the dagger and onlya small piece of the anti-Other blade remained.
“What happened to the other one?” Shah tested her balance as she slowly stood and Rekhmire helped her up.
“I don't know, that Other that was pulling you away and the wights seemed to have suddenly dropped to the ground. You were screaming and then they just stopped.” Rekhmire slid the broken dagger into a pouch. IT would not be as useful in its current state, but that was to be thought of later.
“Hmm.” Her hands were sticky with her own blood and the bile of the Other that had held her. “I don't remember what happened too well, it was all unclear. I thought I was going to die Rekhmire...” He continued to help her walk as they came closer to the other survivors. Antony had remained quiet by their side continuing to keep a watchful eye on the bodies of the wights and Other's should they rise from their odd slumber.
From the dozen that entered the clearing only a handful remained. Shah began tearing up again as she saw the faces of her long time companions and friends.
“They fought bravely my lady, they died for you, as well as any of us here would do readily if you bid it. Now we must move my lady, we can grieve later.” Antony finally spoke up and Rekhmire nodded his approval.
Most of the horses lay dead or scattered about. Several idled about and were collected along with any valuables. Before leaving they set fire to their own and as many of the wights as they could. The few that remained alive were mostly unscathed, and they made as good time as they could with several on foot and a few on horse. It was difficult to stay awake, but Shah tried her best to keep on alert for any signs of another attack.
They had been through one small hell, and she would do her best to not let anyone to go through that again.
Shah woke up to her maid pouring her some warmed water. “How long have I slept?” Sabella turned her head to her lady.
“A few days, you were restless, and murmured through most of your slumber.” Zbella said matter of factly.
“Oh,” Shah felt embarassed and pulled the covers closer to her neck. She was naked and started to feel the cold of the north. “Did Rekhmire tell you what happened?”
Zbella bobbed her head, “You put them to rest with your voice.”
Shah pinched her arm underneath the cover. “Did you give me anything while I was sleeping?”
Zbella shook her head, “No, just some balm on your shoulders where the Other had grabbed you. Your skin should return to normal in a few days. You have always been talented my lady, the fairest voice in Myr and one of the most sought singers in the Free Cities. I have no doubt it was your voice that ended them.”
Her confidence gave no sign she was jesting, and even Rekhmire and the men could not explain what happened, but Shahrizai did not think that she had been the one to put a stop to the slaughter. Shah nestled into the bed and pillow while Zbella brought a cup to her lips. Maybe it was God, she thought. A small kerchief hung from a post with her house sigil. A siren above a ship and a rose. Or maybe it was me. She smiled and sipped at the cup.
Results
Shahrizai to Master Singing
Rekhmire to Expert small blades