Of singing swords and starlit sands

[Elspeth]

'Pon my soul, I'd ne'er thought to hear a siren's wail
Yet certes 'twas what had occurred when Crier spoke his tale.

Indeed, and 'twere that the end, there would be no written story. For I was off, chasing shadows among the windswept grasses of the southern plains, playing hare and hound with the local beasties, and generally trying to survive for a few marcs on my own. I thought I'd seen the footprints of Jerhico Stormcrow and a few others I'd met, but that was all I'd found ... well, that and the prairie cats that kept tumbling into me from behind the grassy hillocks! Aye, and there were a fair few bruises from the troll contingent as well.

Be that as it may, I'd just dropped off a load of pelts with the trader-that-never-moves when I heard the Crier calling. It would appear that sea rats - of all the unlikely creatures - were rushing onto the southernmost beaches. Of course, the warning tale never has all the facts! For instance: why rats? Why now? And what did they expect to gain by swarming ashore? Had some huge wreck gone down off the coast? Needless to say, I was inspired to see for myself just what was happening ... and off I sped, down unfamiliar trails and around half-hidden bushes, jumping gullies and crannies as my feet fairly flew southward.

Y'see these boots? Not a mark on 'em, right? Well, let me tell you they aren't all that pretty INSIDE. Seems the old man got the size wrong, so with all the rough direction changes and pounding during the run I mostly butchered my own feet. Blisters everywhere you'd think there'd be - and some where you might not think to look. But all were painful reminders to dig out a pair of socks, or at least stuff some bos hide down and take up the extra space!

'Course, the path was never really straight ... nor was it empty. Folk were heading southward, carrying their armor and strapping on weapons. (Er, make that carrying weapons and strapping on armor ... well, you get the way the wind was blowing.) More folk were heading northward, some limping, some strutting, some being carried on travoises. I just glanced at 'em and kept going, myself. RIght up 'til that first run-in with the enormous sea thingummy. I burst into a small clearing, and there it stood - all umpteen odd feet of it, giving me the most baleful stare you ever did see. I skidded to a halt, and reached for my sword ... only to find that the beastie was faster than I was. It got in the first lick - and it was a doozy.

I couldn't make much sense of it, what with the stars whirlin' around and that thunder rollin' in my ears. So I just flung the end of my sword out in its direction; wouldn't you know the thing ran right up onto it? Near as took my arm off, tryin' to retrieve the weapon from that first "strike" ... and it weren't even breathin' hard, let alone be bleedin' like the cats would have been. Heck, even the trolls had more sense than to close up alone against that glowing blade! But not this thing, whatever it was. Oh no! It just reared back and let me have it again, rattlin' my head around inside my helm like a pea left in the pod since last fall's harvest.

I wobbled, and tried to bring up my shield. But the thing was just too heavy - I tried to toss it away, so I could swing with both hands - but the strap caught on my sleeve and I couldn't. The helm slid forward, temporarily occluding my vision, and I swung blindly where I thought it might be. The blade swished menacingly through the air ... and kept right on going. A clean miss if ever there was one, I'm sorry to say! And as my foot slid sideways in the now-softened soil, the thing smacked me a third time.

I knew it was going to be over soon - I couldn't for the life of me reach into my pack for a potion to help clear my senses. I did manage to drag my bare hand across my belt, looking for the one healing draught I always have to hand ... but found nothing of use. In one of those first few exchanges, my opponent had managed to shatter the vial - and I was now wearing an extremely expensive essence. Not to mention the pain when bits of remaining glass tore my palm as it caressed where the vial should still have been hooked!

I ducked, and received the fourth blow as a mere grazing hit. I blinked, and blinked again, as the starlit sky beckoned me. The touch had straightened out my helm so that I could see once more ... although I was still so far out of position I could do nothing but scrape off a few bits of dirt that clung to the beastie's outstretched limb with my riposte. A rushing sound, reminiscent of the waves breaking over the sands to the south built in intensity. Aloft, a streak of light announced that someone (or something) had just made a beeline from somewhere to elsewhere. And unfortunately for me, it hadn't even distracted this large creature I was still facing.

I could have come to my senses, knuckled down, and got on with the fight. But I was bruised and bleeding from several cuts - my armor was dented almost beyond repair, and my weapons seemed to be as effective as windblown grass in stopping my opponent. I did the only thing I could, given the circumstances ...I fled.

Yeah, I'm not proud of it. But it made me aware of my own mortality, y'know. And maybe - just maybe - by passing this bit of learning along to the rest of you adventurous types, you might not take those "lifestones" for granted. There might come a marc when they don't work ... just liked the cracked ones we trip across every now and again.

'Til next time ... since I'll be making sure there IS a next time, at least for myself. Whether you're going to be sitting there to hear it is, of course, up to you.

[AKA Azure]

Nice to hear it! Thanks for sharing your tale.