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A Candle in the Wind

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Sir Guy de Trabuchet
Street fighter

Joined: 20 Apr 2011
Posts: 51

PostPosted: Fri Apr 22, 2011 2:12 pm    Post subject: A Candle in the Wind Reply with quote

…the candle guttered in the stiff breeze, the cool wind billowing out the curtains of the drawing room like wraiths drawn to the burning wick. A figure sat at the large round table dominating the room, furiously scratching away at a thick piece of vellum. The sound of writing was both harsh and fluid as the hand that bore the quill continued at a fevered pace.

The room beyond the table was one of pristine order. Books lined the rich oaken shelves that covered most of the walls, weapons and coats of arms decorated where bookshelves were absent. The bare stone floor was polished to a high sheen and everything was in place, from the placement of bookbindings in descending binder size to the colors of the binders themselves. A wooden globe sat upon a polished stand to the left of the table and a tray of delicacies and potables were within easy reach.

Beyond the ordered room night was falling on Nez, the glow of fires coming from the peasant slums lighting the horizon. Sir Guy de Trabuchet glanced up from his journal to look at the burning fires, a wry smile escaping his otherwise stern face. Beyond his chambers the city of Nez was receiving the long awaited justice it deserved. For far too long he had been forced to remain in the shadows, the arrogant nobles of the township making their dark deals, trafficking with all manner of unwholesome allies. A dark scowl crossed his face as his thoughts turned to the treatment he had received at the hands of the nobles.

Returning to his ledger, he continued to write…

"My hate is general, I detest all men;
Some because they are wicked and do evil,
Others because they tolerate the wicked,
Refusing them the active vigorous scorn
Which vice should stimulate in virtuous minds"

As he finished this last, his thoughts once more turned dark and his fingers snapped the quill in half. Looking down at the ruined quill, he neatly placed the two pieces to the side of the ledger and closed the book, marking the page with a silken ribbon of deep verde. Guy returned some composure as he rose from the table and walked towards the window. As he drew nearer, the acrid smell of burning wood and plaster could be determined on the breeze and this gave Guy cause once more to smile as he gazed across growing inferno…
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Sir Guy de Trabuchet
Street fighter

Joined: 20 Apr 2011
Posts: 51

PostPosted: Fri Apr 22, 2011 3:00 pm    Post subject: Pariah Reply with quote

The woman lay upon the divan, the blankets half covering her still naked form. Standing with his back to her, Guy continued to get dressed, pulling on a pressed white shirt that clung to the bloody welts on his back like thin red reins. The lovemaking had been a simple yet brutal affair, his scorn for the woman obvious in his ministrations. Once the feeling had left him, he merely got out of the bed and prepared to take leave.

"You are a pig Guy! An ogre!" whimpered the woman.

Not even giving her the courtesy of facing her, the knight merely responded.

"And you are ever the shrieking harpy my dear! Were it not for your ample charms I would have you taken into the streets and stoned!"

"You would not dare! I am a noble woman with..."

She did not complete her sentence as Guy turned to face her, his eyes roaring furnaces of hatred that burned her retort from her lips.

"I in fact dare a great deal Countess! You would do well to remember that. Or maybe I will inform your husband of your, shall we say, unique desires? I am sure his holiness would find your vices most appealing, no?"

With that the chevalier departed the chamber and descended the stairs into the taproom. As he moved through the room his distain of the people was as clear as a moonlit night, many of the patrons practically jumping out of his way. He flipped the innkeeper a piece of silver as he stepped out into the street and took his walk towards the dark walled Guildhall...

Last edited by Sir Guy de Trabuchet on Fri Apr 22, 2011 7:19 pm; edited 1 time in total
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Joined: 20 Apr 2011
Posts: 33
Location: Thunder Bay, Ont, Canada

PostPosted: Fri Apr 22, 2011 6:11 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

An interesting pice! I think Raymond my own char would hate Sir Guy very much.

Any more soon?
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Joined: 19 Apr 2011
Posts: 102
Location: Norsca

PostPosted: Sat Apr 23, 2011 12:52 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Hmm... I would have pegged Guy for a Solkanite after the first installment, if not for the second...

Keep writing!
They may take our lives, but they'll never stop the WAAAAGH!!!!
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Joined: 24 Apr 2011
Posts: 68

PostPosted: Mon May 02, 2011 5:49 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

She should know her place really. Obviously as an adulteror her rights are moot anyway!
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Sir Guy de Trabuchet
Street fighter

Joined: 20 Apr 2011
Posts: 51

PostPosted: Mon May 09, 2011 4:20 pm    Post subject: Palace Ward; Day One Reply with quote

The stairs to the mansion of Bernard de Blea were littered with broken masonry and the bodies of several slain soldiers. A fine rain had been falling for several hours now, unable to extinguish the flames of burning buildings set by the Chevaliers. The Knights had struck without warning, their forces capturing several key bridges as the mercenaries employed by the Nobles fell before the fighting prowess of the Knights.

Several more guards stood sheltering behind a toppled statue of Mannon, the Sea God’s trident pointing skyward while the god himself lay amid the rubble. The polished green marble glistened in the misty droplets, streams of liquid running like tears from the eyes of the fallen statue. The glowering light of dozens of torches heralded the approach of black and purple livery clad Men at Arms loyal to Sir Guy de Trabuchet, the drilled troops taking up positions flanking the stairs, their halberds and longbows at the ready.

Sir Guy himself stepped forth from the thong of soldiers, his mace still clipped to his belt, his shield boy hefting his massive charge and staggering to keep up. Drawing off his gauntlets, his contempt for the remaining mercenaries etched upon his face, Sir Guy raised his visor…

“Oh bother. Do come out from behind that silly barricade and surrender. I offer my word that you will receive the decent treatment.”

The soldiers huddled behind the rubble cast serious glances at one another, each man trying to decide their fate. Hurried hand gestures and whispered responses were muffled by the increasing intensity of the falling precipitation.

“Come now lads. Your fight is over; your employers have fled or found the justice they so richly deserved on the blades of the righteous! Let us end this folly now and get in out of the rain.”

At a motion, Sir Guy stepped aside and his archers moved forward and took up firing positions. As they nocked arrows another soldier moved across the ranks with a burning pot of coals, firing each tat tipped arrow into flame.

“Last chance lads. Come out and throw down your arms, or stay…and roast!”

Over a dozen of the mercenaries stepped from cover and threw down their weapons in a clatter. Sir Guy’s swordsmen moved to take the prisoners from the stairs while the Knight signaled to his archers to let fly. The night was broken by a stream of fiery arrows flying through the darkness and impacting upon stone and wooden porch screening the mansion. Several retainers hurled flasks of oil into the growing inferno and soon the smell of burning flesh and the screams of the dying could be heard above the pattering rain.

Sir Guy replaced his gauntlets and moved among the prisoners, clapping some on the back, making small talk with the others as he made sure they received food and drink. Meanwhile his troops moved to surround the burning mansion, ensuring that any survivors didn’t last long.
Climbing onto the broad back of his favored horse, Goblyn, Sir Guy turned to his sergeant and motioned once more. Resigned the sergeant turned to the Men at Arms and drew his blade. The troops followed suit and fell upon the mercenaries in an orgy of stabbing and slashing. A spray of blood found its way to the greaves on Sir Guy, the rain mixing with the blood to flow down his leg and onto the ground.

Looking back from the carnage to his Lord, the sergeant inquired.

“Why Milord? You promised those men they would be decently treated.”

Glaring down from his massive horse, the Knight deemed to humor the soldier with a response.

“They were decently treated Michael. They were decently fed. And then they were decently executed. We have no time to deal with the likes of this mercenary scum. It is simply one more slight against the Nobles that they employ troops to defend themselves that take coin before honor. Soldiers bought and paid for with gold cannot understand the concept of justice and honor. And so they have been taken care of, lest they find more gold and come back like rodents to a dying corpse. It is well that you and your men are not tempted by such things.”

Lowering his visor once more, the Knight rode off into the darkness; Goblyn’s hoof beats echoing long into the night…
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