Tern
#2 of Story Pad
Another StoryPad that was tossed together last night. Free writing is fun!
Tern walked down the cobblestone street in the city of Rose, capitol of the Empire of the Rose, keeping an eye on the dark clouds that hovered overhead, threatening to pour out their burden on the city.
He made his way along, one hand holding his green cloak over his mail shirt, his hand at his side away from his sword. There was nothing in Rose that would challenge him, or at least live to tell about it should they be foolish enough to try. It was a civilized place, filled with merchants, churchmen, power brokers, and every other imaginable thing that one could conceive of in a city and perhaps many one could not.
And Tern hated all of it.
He avoided Rose like plague and wouldn't be there at all save for the business he had to conduct with the local fighters guild regarding a job they had run that happened to conflict with the huntsmen, of which he was the chief captain. He hoped for a quiet resolution but was not overly optimistic, dealing with people who carried their brains in the same scabbard as their sword.
He made his way across the main marketplace, a place usually filled with merchants hawking their wares, crying out for attention. Anything you could imagine could be bought in Rose. Goods, women, power, it was all available for a price.
The city, despite being the Holy City of the Rose, was quite corrupt. There was power a plenty to be had in it's street, power enough to corrupt any not cautious in it's use. The main market was close to the Emperors Hold, along with the ostentatious houses of those in power. Heads of state, of the church, merchant guilds and others all congregated next to the palace. The closer you were, the larger your house, the more power you held.
Tern ignored it. Never saw the point in any of it.
There was a rumble across the sky and drops started to splatter on the ground. Tern sighed an hurried along, trying to get to his destination before the skies broke open. He passed a couple of guards men, nodding to them. One of them eyed him and he drew his cloak closer to him. He hoped they hadn't recognized him. He didn't fear trouble, save for the problems his father would cause if he found he had been in the city and not come to see him.
His father did not at all approve of Tern's choice to join the Huntsmen. He had been groomed to take his place amongst the power brokers, those seemingly useless people that congregated around the emperor, hoping his light would shine on them enough to make the reflection such that others would notice or, better, the emperor would notice.
The current emperor was Jerran II. He was well liked, but was untried, untested. No great calamity had arisen to test his mettle, to challenge his will, to prove that he was wise and strong as all emperors must surely be. Some tongues wagged that it was many decades since the last great upheaval in the empire, that peace and prosperity had reigned too long and that the unblooded emperor would fold like a house of cards once it happened.
Tern had no opinion one way or the other. He had met the man in passing, but mostly stayed to his men.
Thunder rumbled again and Tern swore softly, glancing up. He gasped the amulet that held his cloak shut. It was supposedly magic of some sort; he had received it from a well born lady as payment for clearing some goblins from her lands. He mostly discounted it, though he had seen enough to not fully dismiss the supernatural. There were things and power out there than mere men had no business in. He thought her to be sweet on
him, but there was nothing improper in their relationship. He had moved on. He always moved on.
More thunder and the rain started to come down in earnest. People hurried towards inns and tap rooms, places to take shelter from the storm before it washed them from the city like so much dirt. His boot heels splashed in puddles, that reflected the rain spotted windows of the shops, warm beacons inviting people to shelter. He came upon an inn that he recognized all too well. It figured. He remembered this inn from a brawl that happened there when he was much younger and cocksure of himself. A small scar on his elbow was a reminder of it. An intense dislike of the smell of onions was the other.
Nothing had become of it. More of his father's interference.
He stepped inside just as the skies burst open, letting loose a deluge that ran down the gutters of the street. He glanced outside and sighed, taking a seat at the bar, hoping not to be recognized by the barkeep.
"Ah young sir, looks like you just made it in time!" the man said with a great laugh and looked at Tern more closely. "Ah, I remember you from many years ago, that little spat here. No worries friend, it was all taken care of by an anonymous donation. Must have friends in high places, yes?"
"Something like that," Tern said. More of his father's doing and legacy. His upper class tone of voice was another.
"What would you be having?"
"Stew, if you have any," Tern said, remembering that it was particularly good.
"I'll have a bowl in just a jiff."
Tern glanced around the room, taking note of the patrons, a long standing habit. Two workmen sat enjoying a pint. A man with church robes sat in the back corner, an oddity that Tern noted. He took a seat and waited for his meal. As he sat, he glanced at the floor and frowned. There was a pile of dust there. He looked at it closer. There should be no dust, the rain should have turned it all to muck. Just as he bent down the dust swirled into a man like shape with two glowing points for eyes. Tern sprang to his feet and drew his sword in one smooth, practiced motion. The workmen scrambled back as Tern advanced, feinting at the creature. He slashed at it and it wavered back, then formed up again and came forward. Tern sighed. It was going to be one of those days.
He struck again at the creatures arm and it exploded in a cloud of dust, disintegrating to the floor. Tern choked at the sudden cloud and glanced over, noticing another one forming up next to the door. With a grunt he stabbed the first creature where the heart would be and it wailed and fell to dust. Heartened, he turned the other creature, advancing. A moment later the first creature reformed and wailed at him. He stepped back to avoid getting cornered.
How was a warrior to contend with something like this? Dead things should stay dead.
In desperation he slashed through the first creature again and it screamed and exploded into a cloud of dust, choking Tern and getting in his eyes. He stepped to the side and felt claws skitter against his mail shirt. As he lashed out blindly and took a step back, and his boot hooked on a chair, sending him to the floor. He rolled in desperation, not wanting to be pinned by the eldritch thing. As he came to his feet, he lashed out instinctively and blocked a claw that would have taken his head off.
The man in the robes had stood and was muttering something in an odd tongue and a blue beam shot from his hands, hitting the second creature. It shrieked and dissolved into dust. Tern lashed out again and struck the head from the other creature and it wailed and stepped back. He grabbed a pitcher of water and splashed it on his face, clearing his eyes, then threw it at the creature.
It wailed an sunk into a pool of glop. Tern grabbed another pitcher and poured it out on it, to be sure, then washed his face again, coughing.
"Yes, yes, pour water on them, that usually keeps them down for a moment," the man in the robes said. He stood next to Tern and chanted something in that odd language again and the pool of glop shuddered and was silent.
Tern wiped his face and looked at the man. "What the hell were those things?" he said in a harsh voice.
"Dust wights," the man said calmly.