City of Masks WIP (Work in progress)
I hope you guys like where this is going, I have so much to do it will be a while before it gets finished but it's also been a while since I posted something, and my other stuff is so close to done I figured it would be nice to give out something to keep you happy for the next little bit (throws bread) there, now enjoy the story. City of Masks. In the empire it is compulsory to wear a mask at all times, the country was founded by a thief who never took off his mask so it's citizens must follow his example. It has also evolved into a class differentiator, allowing people to tell at a glance what station another is from. There are different kinds of markings to indicate any special things the person has done. Masks may be made out of all kinds of material; those who work for a living prefer either light weight cloth masks or heavy wooden or metallic ones. A farmer for instance, would wear a simple cloth or wood mask wile in the filed, but have others with more decoration for fancy occasions. A blacksmith would wear metal, sometimes covered with leather to protect him self and tell the world of his profession. Peasant = covering of the area around the eyes and nose. Master craftsman =eyes, nose and mouth covered. Someone, regardless of station, who has served in the armed forces= lower half of face and all of nose covered, eyes left bare for ease sight. Noble =eyes, nose and forehead covered.
Vivian stood up on her daddy's shoulders to watch the emperor's guard tramp through the village. Most of them were a horse, but some walked down the central lane of the town. Even at only 8 years of age she knew that one day she would be in the stone emperor's guard, with their flying pennants and burnished armor, they were like something out of a bards tale. She knew that they protected the emperor with their lives, but that did not dissuade her. Who would want to hurt the emperor? He kept them safe from the killing magics, and evil mages that ravished the land outside the stone empire's borders. It was not uncommon for females to join the armed forces of the realm but the trails that had to be passed in order to be invited to join the stones were often to rigorous and very few women passed them. Viv was going to, she had made up her mind and as her father often said. "That girl could out stubborn a mule." He of course referred to those who walked on four legs not two. There were many two legged mules that were perfectly reasonable and not at all hard headed. Viv reminded her self not to thrash her tail, as this would annoy her father who was holding her up to see the parade. Being from a family of leopards, her tail was exponentially longer then her parent's or any other big cats for that matter. Three and half feet of fuzz covered appendage swinging around behind them would unbalance her father and send them crashing to the earth. She flicked her ears back in annoyance, at least as a peasant she did not have to wear the mask of rank that covered the top of the face and head like the nobles. Then she would not even be able to swivel her ears. Thankful for the mere, concealment she was required to wear, Viv went back to watching the parade. Her father was keeping up a running dialogue for her, telling her what the banners said and explaining where it was they had been and what they had accomplished there. Nodgrad was about 10 miles outside of the capital city of Lekko, serving as one of the large city's supply areas and the way point for travelers seeking to enter the gates In fine fashion, not covered in the dust of the road, This was the returning of all the detachments of the special guard that had been fighting all over the realm. From the sea of lost souls in the west, to the great burning dunes to the south and east. One could tell where it was they were coming from by their mode of dress. Pantaloons for those returning from the sea and great body covering garments for those coming back from the desert. As the procession passed, Viv began asking her father more questions, which he gladly answered, the more time he spent here, the less he had to spend trying not to wince over his apprentices shoddy work. Joseph Smith, Vivian's father, was the village smith. He was large of chest and arm, yet was always ever so gentle when holding his little girl. Viv was all he had left of his late wife, who had been murdered whilst on the coast visiting family. Once a bladesmith of great renown, Joseph had retired from the making of "tools of death" as he called them, and was now only the simple blacksmith for the village. Fixing spades and sharpening plows, it was honest work and he enjoyed it. He enjoyed not charging his peasant neighbors even more. Lords and rich men from across the empire wished to have him train somebody or other in the art of blade forging. Usually a nephew or cosine so as to allow them access to high quality blades within their own family. He took a few on every winter, charging a steep price but none ever possessed the gift for truly remarkable blades. The exorbitant prices he charged allowed him to get by without charging the locals anything for their requests. This was kept secret of course; the taxman cared not where the money came from as long as he got his cut. Just as she was going to ask to be let down, another party of stones turned the corner. These were dressed in very different clothing. Even though it was early fall, and the temperature was quite comfortable, they all wore heavy fur cloaks over their armor. Some of them bore strange looking axes and even stranger looking swords. Axes with sickle shaped blades and long hafted hilts. Swords both long and straight, longer then any produced in the empire. And curved with but a single edge upon their surface. Her father whistled. "Those boys are coming back from up north, past the Sky Shield Mountains. That's the only place the make those big two handed jobs, same goes for the single cutters. They have some strange metals up there girl and don't you forget it, I've seen a northsmith do the most amazing things with fire and ore. Once, I was even allowed to watch em "Cold forge" something, damndest thing I ever saw." They, like most of the other bands of warriors, were trailed by wagons bearing supplies and the spoils of war. Viv was too preoccupied with the strange swords to pay attention to her father, so unlike any of the short, stabbing weapons they produced in her homeland they captured her interest. She was so preoccupied that se failed to notice that one of the wagons held a prisoner within it's barred depths. The person behind the bars couldn't have been any older then herself, yet the guards gave the wagon a wide berth. Inside was a young boy, not yet 10 winters old. He was dressed in nothing but a pair of dark leather leggings that fit into a pair of boots. Up along the side of the shin high boots was a set of buckles, designed to hold the footwear in place during strenuous activity. At the tip of the boots was a triangular spike of metal jutting out of the steel capped toes. Vaguely angled up and back, it resembled a shark's tooth and looked quit sharp. His chest was bare and she could see the lines of young muscle and scar tissue that crisscrossed it. Bone white hair reached down to his middle back, somewhat wild and unkempt looking. The most shocking thing though, was that his mask covered his entire face. There were not even eyeholes or a slit for his mouth, just a skin tight covering of silvery metal that reached from his chin to his hairline. The boy was chained to iron struts in the wagon, and every time it hit a rough patch of road, it looked as if his arms would be dislocated. "Daddy! Who's that?" "That's king Volrrun's son, he is part of a pact the emperor signed with the nation of Larodas. They agree not to attack along our northern boarder, and we will stop raiding them. If the Viscins attack from the west then they must come to aid us and vise versa. The king gave his only son to the emperor as a gift to seal the pact, they are a much smaller nation then us and needed this to happen more then we did." "But daddy, why would the emperor want a kid? He doesn't eat em does he?" "No baby girl he doesn't. When that kid was born, a star fell from the sky and landed on the king's stable, killing all the animals within. The northmen are very superstitious and took it as a sign that something evil was in the boy's future. So the king, planning on securing his son's power while he was still in diapers called to him the most feared magiker in the land. This mage told the king to bring together all the most famous relics battle in the nation. This took some time as they are a warrior people and treasure nothing so much as a trophy of battle. After this was done, the mage touched all the items with a small spear of ice. Some of the items had passed out of the knowledge of men and were simply thought to be of import. When he had done this the mage then asked what the king wished for his son." The king rose up and declared. " I wish for him to be honed of mind and body, to never know his equal in combat, and to possess wisdom far beyond his years." "The mage then plunged the spear of ice into the infant, but no blood came forth. Instead, whereas before there had been but a simple child, crying as babies oft times do. Now there lay a thing not meant for this world, the babes downy brown locks had turned fine and white as spun ice, while his eyes stared blankly from his emotionless face. The king commissioned a child mask to be made for him, but each time it was placed on the baby, all ornamentation disappeared from it's surface, leaving the blank thing you see now. As the years passed the child excelled in all his endeavors, riding horses while others still tottered on their feet. Winding through exercises of the body while most would sit and play games. Never once, so far as anyone knows, has he uttered a single word. So you see darling, it was no great thing for the king to give up his son, the emperor gets a pet savage and the barbarian king is rid of a burdensome charge." As the wagon passed, the masked face turned towards them, Viv could swear that the boy was looking at her. But no, he could not see through the mask she was being silly again. As the wagon rolled out of sight down the street, Viv asked her father one last question. "Papa? What's that boy's name?" "Hmmm, I believe it's Hrolf, and his surname would have been Kveltlongnen. But the king refused to give his son a surname of his house, not after what he became. So he gave him the last name of "Hrimsson" which means "Frost's son" in their tongue." "That's a funny name papa!" "Yes it is sweet heart, but come on now. Let's get back to the house and stop those fool apprentices of mine from burning it down." "Race you papa!" And with that the young leopard leaped from her fathers shoulders and ran away through the crowd. Some years later
- * * "TROOPER SERGEANT SMITH!! GET YOUR BLOODY LONG TAILED ASS OUT OF THAT BED BEFORE I SET FIRE TO IT!! These were the shouted words that jolted Viv from her pleasant dreamings of the cool spring outside her village. Opening her eyes, she found the top half of the not so pleasant face of lieutenant Bocklef not three inches from her own. She was tempted to tell him to go stick his face in the mud, she had been on duty with her Shokar (feral camel) squad for over a week without any relief and this was her first time in any semblance of a bed since last month. Glaring at the Raccoon, Vivian could not help but imagine all the wicked and horrible fates that must await him in hell. Boklef's mask was of the soldier design, covering the lower half of his face. It was also inscribed with sigils of bravery and with the marks various campaigns he had taken part in. The award system of the empire hinged greatly on their masks. Viv had heard that other nations handed out medals to recognize those who had done great things, utter silliness in her opinion but then, who was she to judge? She should not complain, at least the 12th legion or "desert dogs" had a base, there were some units here and in the far north that had to rove from campsite to campsite with no fixed base of operations. She pushed her feelings a side and sprang forth, landing half naked and pulling a shirt on over her head. "Yessir lieutenant sir! What is it I can do for you today?" "Your out of this unit Smith, seems the captain took a liking to that little display you put on last month. 4 desert raider clans put down in one week, must be a bloody fucking record. Least wise, you and that bloody great hammer of yours are heading back to Lekko for the stone guard admissions. Bless his charity but I don't know what he sees in an over muscled girl like you. Pack your kit your leaving with the midnight caravan." With that the taciturn lieutenant spun on his heel and left the barracks. Viv stood there, quite stunned for a bit, and then recovered enough to leap into the air with a shout of glee. She was 28 winters old, and finally her dream was coming true. She had joined up just after her 20th birthday, the legal age of enlistment for women. And had worked her way to sergeant of the mounted corps in the south. It had been rough, more then rough it had been downright disheartening at times. She had started working with her father at the age of 10. As his age started to show, shortening his workdays and lengthening the time it took for him to be rested. She became strong of body and keen of eye from the forge work and it had held her in good stead since. As a sergeant she could carry a personal weapon into combat and she often chose the pick hammer that now rested by her bed. A sword was well and good but so many used them that people became proficient in countering the maneuvers employed by a user of the straight bladed weapon. But the pick hammer was unique in its design and few if any were prepared for her unorthodox style of fighting. Her father was retired now, still living in Nodgrad and enjoying his peace filled existence. This reassignment would allow her to visit him on her leave hours IF, that was, she passed the tests. Packing her kit, short stabbing sword and hammer, she proceeded to make her way around the garrison saying her goodbyes. Many were sorry to see her go but some approved, saying that she deserved the chance to prove her self. The remainder of her day was spent hunting down some personal supplies. Jerked beef, Colboa berries which would provide moisture if they ran out of water, sand pitons to anchor her tent at night, just in case of a sand wind. Things of this sort were procured from all over the fortress that was Blue tree town. So named for the trees whose foliage turned bright blue before the onset of sand winds. By the time she had completed this task to the level of her sergeant's satisfaction, it was close to six turns after midday. Just enough light left to get some practice in at the arena. After stowing her gear on the army wagon in the caravan, Viv high tailed it over to the garrisons training arena. The edges of the circular sand pit were lined with a stone wall and capped with seats for sporting events. All along the wall were stacked row upon row of every kind of weapon imaginable. All crafted from wood so as not to cut the troopers that came here to hone and maintain their skills. Several of her companions had the same idea as her. A few of them would be traveling with her to reassignments on one or other of the empires countless bases. There was even old Dag Olesson, a man from just south of the Sky Shields. The heat was very hard on his northern complexion but he never complained once. In point of fact, Dag never spoke much at all, preferring to listen to as much as possible before opening his mouth. He was standing in the off to the side, swinging his strange axe and humming to him self. Dag was the oldest soldier in the entire 12th legion; at 68 winters he was defiantly an old hand. He was unique in the fact that, out of the entire population of Blue tree he was one of only a hand full of humans. This caused a bit of resentment on the part of the furs, Viv could understand this but she took no part in it. Dag was a good man, he was a good fighter and person, and she was not about to ostracize him for no reason other then his race. Vivian walked towards Dag, he was in the middle of a set of throws and arm locks used with short hafted weapons. As she passed the weapons rack Viv grabbed a wooden hammer, she enjoyed sparing with Dag. His use of a similar weapon challenged her to be better in her own weapon forms. Dag saw her approaching and finished his routine, coming to a stop in the stance that resulted in the opponent's arm shattering in several different places. "Hail lass, am I right in thinking yu came to get one last session in afore yu leave this Emperor forsaken sand pit?" "You are astute as ever old timer, what say you? Are your old and feeble bones up to a round or two?" "Bah! The day I can't take a wee little house cat like yu'er self is the day they put me in the ground! Now are yu going to stand there all evening talking? Or are we going to spar?" Just as Viv was responding, a new voice chimed in from across the pit. "What are you doing old man? Associating with the likes of her, she is a woman, and not only that! She is not human! What you do here would have you cast from the church in our lands." Standing in the archway to the outside were three obviously new enlistees, they had were all humans and had the dusky coloring of men from the eastern region of the empire. Viv remembered that the easterners looked down on furs, they believed that the emperor (who is human) was an earth bound manifestation of their deity. And as such, humans were intrinsically more important then furrs. They had, over the years before the empire, clashed many times with the men of Larodas. "Aggg. Take your nonsense somewhere else, before my patience with yu runs out. If nothing else yu will respect a commanding officer when yu meet one, else I'll turn your head inside out and water mine pigs with your skull." "Shut it blasphemer, I am the same rank as this...animal. I may speak to it anyway I like. And even if I was not, what could a pile of bones like you do about it eh?" Vivian looked at the old trooper; it was times like these that she understood his reticence to accept promotions. If he were an officer he could not teach these cubs just how wrong they were. "Trooper Olesson, I believe these men have asked to see a demonstration of your martial capabilities, let us not disappoint them by refusing." "As yu say sergeant." Dag hefted the wooden axe in his right hand, and a shield in the left. He slowly began to stalk forward, approaching the eastern recruits. They were only slightly taken aback by the older man stalking towards them. Smiling with malicious intent, the grabbed their own wooden swords and shields and swaggered toward the older Northman. The first probably expected the older man's joint and age pains to hinder him. He paid for his assumption with a large welt to the head and a bout of unconsciousness. Somewhat stunned by his companion's lack of resistance, the second man failed to raise his shield in time to block a quick strike to the shoulder, as he grimaced in pain Dag struck him on the head with the butt of his axe. Seeing how this elderly man swiftly rendered his two friends unconscious, the ring leader turned around and started to walk quickly away from the human and leopard. This was a great mistake on his part for in the north it is considered highly ride to turn your back on someone you are in the middle of fighting. The eastern man did not have time to regret his mistake however, because after only taking about ten paces the older man's wooden axe thumped into the back of his head. This cause the skin to split and blood to flow from the wound. As he lay there moaning and dropping in and out of the waking world, he saw the figure of the older trooper stand over him. "A bit o advice mine little friend, never insult a man's friend, never insult a man's mother, and never insult a man's honor. But above all, NEVER insult a man's shield mate." And with that he walked out of the arena and to the wagon train, intending to wait there until it was under motion. Viv attempted to restrain her laughter, the silly easterners would learn MUCH here in the burning south. She decided to go talk to the captain for a bit, sparing was out of the question now. When she found the Phalanx captain he was laying on top of a rock underneath a shady tree __________________________________________________________ Everything below this line is just things to help me remember. Quotes, one liners from some of my poetry and other odds and ends that I find interesting. "Do you know what this day is Richard Volstock? Mortal man, THIS is your dieing day. Death himself has written the sonnet of your demise, he is the conductor of fate, and today I am to be his baton." "...be ye demons?. Nay, we are but men." "Lo there do I see my death? Nay, for he comes baring a Sickly smile upon his lips, and candied words upon his tongue. Lo he even unto me seems as a brother lest then a reaper of souls, who then but a brother would I be to deny him courtesy? nay he is but death, as well ast mine brother, for sooth, he shall not take me, now or ever, but another adorns his cart today. What then does that make me? For thus I be no mortal man, yet I be not death but his brother twain. So then what doth that make mine condition? Lo I am War, deaths brother in all things and the arbiter of his coming. I am his merchant and his house lord I am his baker and his brewer, His butcher and his tailor. I am the merchant of death, know me and despair."