Welcome to Librarium Online!
Join our community of 80,000+ members and take part in the number one resource for Warhammer and Warhammer 40K discussion!
Registering gives you full access to take part in discussions, upload pictures, contact other members and search everything!
Ok this is my first real go at an elven story, all C&C welcome.
The sun slowly began to dip below the sea as Sir Rinehart wandered into the village, his charger snorted as a fly once more landed on the edge of its nostril. Rinehart patted it's neck gently with a metallic hand as he looked about the small village, little more than fifty houses sat in a semi circle around the small shrine to the Lady. The homes themselves were less of a house and more of a hut, rectangular in shape they were made of either wood or mud; two things the peasants had plenty of. A small hole in the roof was there for the smoke to escape from, otherwise there was only a single window and door on each home. As he slowly rode through the village all activity seemed to stop, children stopped playing and adults stopped talking â€“ looking about him he spoke up,
â€œI seek shelter for the night. Is there an inn here?â€? his Bretonnian accent was full of nobility and his words were perfectly formed. One villager sheepishly stepped forward, his hands constantly wringing at the cap he held in his hands;
â€œYes sire.â€? He spoke in a stuttering voice, â€œThat hall there is a travellers stop, though I'm afraid tis nothing fancyâ€? the embarrassment was evident within his voice. Rinehart looked upon the peasant, and without a word he nodded and with a slight touch to the flanks of his horse trotted towards the building. Unlike the other buildings this one was longer with more windows, a crudely daubed sign was nailed to it's front, â€œThe Lady's Tressâ€? it was called. The picture of a light blue tress of a noble woman was splashed upon the wooden board, the name was written in white â€“ it appeared the keeper had hired someone for the job as Sir Rinehart doubted anyone in the village has the skills of literacy. Pulling his horse up he looked for a stable of some sort but could see none, turning in the saddle he was about to shout back to the group of villagers when a cough to his right pulled him up short. Before him was a young man, no more than sixteen; his clothes were dirty and he gave off a slight smell of dung;
â€œYou staying the night sire?â€? questioned the young man, as he spoke Rinehart could see many of his teeth were rotten or plainly missing giving his words a slight lisp. The knight nodded and the boy continued; â€œThere are stables out back, m'Lord. Shall I house your steed there?â€? Again Rinehart nodded but this time he dismounted, landing on the hardened earth with a clanging of metal plates. Fishing a copper coin out his purse Rinehart tossed it towards the stable hand and strode towards the inn itself. Pushing open the wooden door he was suddenly plunged into a dimness that the dying light outside failed to match, he stood in a large common room; there were four small tables with three-legged stools sat around them. Three braziers sat in the corners of the room in a feeble attempt to give it more light, on the far side a roaring fire danced and flickered as a man chucked another log onto it. Sir Rinehart's steps thudded loudly on the wooden floorboards as he approached this man, upon hearing them the man turned and bowed his head to the knight;
â€œG'evening sire. What may my humble abode offer you this night?â€? asked the man. As Rinehart studied him he could see he was the proprietor, a worn and stained apron was bound around his wide girth. His round face bore a jolly glow, a large and bulbous nose sat in the middle of his face was slightly violet, an indication that he imbibe with his own stock. He wore a thinning head of grey hair that matched the beard upon his face, the facial hair hide his mouth to such a degree that unless it was open the orifice vanished.
â€œYes. I require a room for the night, as well as food and wine if you have it.â€? requested the noble.
â€œOf course sire. You more forgive me but the rooms are of ill stock and need a quick clean as they are not used often. I will see to one being cleaned, if you'd like to take a seat I'll get your food whilst it's being cleaned. And I do believe I have a bottle of wine somewhere.â€? the Inn keeper said, his voice soft and welcoming.. Rinehart nodded and took up a seat near one of the braziers. The meal was quick in coming, a lamb stew with hard bread was brought to Rinehart alone with a bottle of wine, the workers of the tavern quickly retreated; unsure of how to act in the presence of a nobleman. Rinehart polished off the stew with relish, the taste was there but it was bland compared what he was use to back at his home. One of the female servants appeared out of the corridor leading towards the rooms, Rinehart sat back and sipped his wine as he appraised her form. She was tall and slender, not too much but she had curves in the correct places. A full locks of golden yellow hair fell to her waist, wisps of it turned golden as the fiery lights caught its movement. Her skin was pale but without blemish, as he turned he saw her face in full. Her oval face was framed by the golden locks, her skin like porcelain held a warm look, her green eyes were bright with youth and a slight naivety. She conversed with the innkeeper before turning and leaving the room once more; Rinehart's eyes followed every movement.
A polite cough drew attention for the second time that night,
â€œMy daughter says the room is readyâ€? the innkeeper told Rinehart, his eyes had narrowed and a slight wariness had crept into them as the knight watched his daughter. Rinehart nodded and rose indicating him to show the way. â€œHanna.â€? he barked, â€œShow this fair knight to his room., then go to the kitchens; the cook needs a pair of hands.â€? The young girl appeared once more, curtseyed and indicated for Sir Rinehart to follow. She stopped outside the first door and waved Sir Rinehart inside.
â€œCould you come inside and help me remove my armour?â€? said Rinehart as he turned to face her. She stared blackly at him then glancing at the room, then back at Rinehart and finally passed his shoulder; she shook her head then before Rinehart could respond she slipped passed him towards the kitchen. Sighing, he was about to enter the room when the boy come stable entered. Beckoning him over he gestured inside the room and followed the boy in. The room was little larger than six foot square, a bed made of straw or hay lay in one corner whilst another was occupied by a large stood, with a bowl and a towel on top. Removing his sword and tossing it upon the pallet he began to instruct the boy in the removal of his armour, without aid of a mirror he was trusting him to do it purely via his guidance. Slowly, piece by piece he shed the armour like an outer skin, piling it carefully in a spare corner. Instead he donned a simple tunic of green and gold patterns. The tightly fitting garment was designed to show of his highly toned and muscular body, his form was build from years of jousting and armed combat with the sword he carried. Looking into the bowl he gazed at the reflection he cast; a long noble looking face gazed back at him. The slate grey eyes held a dangerous look within them, he highly angular face was framed by longish mousey brown hair. A long thin nose was a contrast to the full lips below, something that gained him a slight ridicule at court, behind the red lips were a perfect set of white teeth; although they were now stained by the red wine from the meal.
â€œThank you.â€? Sir Rinehart rewarded the boy with a flash of a smile, â€œHow is my horse?â€?
â€œFine sire. He seems to have taken to the stable well, he'll be fine tonight.â€? beamed the young lad with pride. Sir Rinehart rewarded him with another appraising smile before indicating his service was over. Wishing the knight a good knight the boy slipped out the room leaving him alone. Sir Rinehart drew his blade and placed it point down on the wooden floor, kneeling before it he placed his head upon his hands covering the pommel and whispered his prayers to the Lady before retiring for the night.
* * * *
Valnir Bloodroot stood watching the dark blue waves calmly shifting upon the sea as his ship steadily slipped through them, he stand on one of the balconies that led from one of the many rooms within his small ship. The ship itself was less of a sea faring vessel but more of a small castle upon a piece of rock, one of the infamous Druchii Black Arks; formed at the hight of the civil war that split the elven race thousands of years ago. To the unknowing it appeared to be a simple building upon a rock but the truth was that it was much more, much of it was in fact under the oceans waves â€“ much like an iceberg â€“ within this submerged section lives the creatures that were the Ark's mounts. Great beings of the ocean culled and captured from the Boiling Sea were lashed to the small island and pulled the rock about the ocean, answering to the Beastmaster's calls and commands.
Valnir took a deep breath of the salt filled wind, his cloak of sea dragon hide flapped in it's caress behind him. Valnir himself was much like the Druchii race as a whole; he was of slender build, his flesh was taught upon his frame and a pale colour â€“ almost to the colour of pure white. His eyes had no iris and no colour, it was as all others black â€“ two pools of black that gave away little emotion if any. Tied in a single top knot was his long black hair, its length cascaded down his back like a black waterfall; the rest of his head was shaved clean. He wore functional clothing giving him freedom of movement but keeping him warm against the elements, a plate of black ithilmar clung to his chest, sharp bladed pauldrons protected his shoulders and a pair of spiked gloves matched his shoulder guards. Encompassing him he wore a heavy cloak, the material was that of the flayed flesh of a sea dragon â€“ one of the fierce creatures that power the Black Arks. As well as being well armoured he matched this with being well armed, twin swords lay close at hand on his hip, each one was a full four feet in length with small toothy notches within the weapons design â€“ these would cause considerable pain to the occupants who's flesh they were embedded within when it was removed â€“ they hung of opposite sides of his waist in matching human skin sheaths, the handles were made from human bones with a solitary rune of Khaine etched on the pommel. They had previously belonged to the captain before him, but they were now his after his opponents death, such was the Druchii way.
A slight ruffle of clothing behind him caught his attention, without even turning he spoke up â€“ the wind whipping his words back to the being;
â€œSomething I could do for you Lonccia?â€? he asked. Slowly the person behind him pulled up level, the sorceress Lonccia. Like him she was a noble but even he couldn't command fear like she did but to look at her he could not guess why. She was like him of typical Druchii stock, pale skinned and dark haired. Where he wore his armour and cloak as protection she wore none, in fact she wore very little; a few scraps of cloth acted as a barrier to hide her assets - something it didn't entirely do all that well. Looking at her Valnir could still see her figure, her perfect form could â€“ and had- drive mortals mad with desire, she bore herself with a confidence. When she spoke, even in the harsh Druchii language, it was like music; her voice was a velvet purr and as smooth as silk;
â€œGood day Lord Valnir. All is prepared for the voyage home I presume?â€? her words sounded much like an order as it was a question, something that irked Valnir greatly.
â€œAlmost. Once last raid and we'll be done.â€? he replied
â€œIs that wise m'Lord? Winter draws near if we were stranded when the winter comes, well I don't suppose I need to explain the problems to yourself do I?â€?
â€œOf course I know the implications. As I said, once last raid.â€? Valnir said with a firm tone. â€œNow please inform the crew, we are nearing our destination.â€?
â€œAs you wish, m'Lord.â€? She turned to leave but before she could Valnir spoke up once more;
â€œLonccia, don't countermand my orders again.â€? he said with a slight venom in his voice, she took it in her stride and didn't even turn back to the Corsair captain as she left. As she disappeared Valnir turned back to the sea, the coast of Bretonnia pulling into view once more; a cruel smile slid onto his lips in anticipation.
* * * *
Gerart wandered down towards the beach, the village behind him was abuzz with the knights arrival. Everyone but himself were obsessed with him, even thinking of the man make Gerart's mood more sullen. He began to mutter to himself;
â€œWhat's that poncy nobleman got that I haven't? Eh? Nothing.â€? Stooping he picked up a stone and begin to toss it up and down in the air, he began to pace along the beach; â€œHe comes here thinking we'll bow to his every whim just because he's a noble, thinking he can touch my Hanna. He has some brass..â€? spinning in anger he flung the stone as hard as he could into the sea. â€œOh great.â€? He muttered as he looked at the great blue divide, a mist had begun to form; and as it came in land it slowly began to thicken. The sight of the mist caused him to mutter more, now he'd have to return to the village and tell the people there. Among the noise of the waves lapping upon the shore he heard something else, a sound that didn't belong; it sounded like the noise an oar makes when it's swept through the water. Stepping forward Gerart strained his eyes staring into the mist, clear patches drifted through the haze and as one patch passed before him swore he saw ships and even a great castle out upon the oceans waves. He now stood at the waters edge; the waves slowly lapping at his feet. Then suddenly out of the mist came two distinct twang's of a crossbow Gerart didn't have time to react, as he breathed in two shafts stuck out from his chest and throat. As his eyes sight faded and the wounds blossomed red and black his slumped to the sandy floor his eyes glazed and a bloody trickle of blood leaked from the corner of his mouth.
â€œHe could have made a good slaveâ€? hissed one of the figures leaping out the boats into the surf.
â€œOr he could have alerted the humans to our presence. I'd take my chances with the loss of one against the loss of them all.â€? came the curt reply. Valnir followed Lonccia as they waded through the surf, behind them came the corsairs; the fighting force of the raid. Nodding to two of them Valnir indicated they were the scouts, and in an instant they began to track the humans path back to the village and slaves beyond. It was five minutes before they returned and relayed the information; they knew the village was unprotected and housed maybe a hundred humans. â€œGood. We'll wait for this mist to cover the land then we can move in, best do quickly and silently before the rest awake and run.â€? Valnir looked at Lonccia as he spoke, seeing her nod her head in agreement he posted two sentries and waited.
It took almost two hours for the fog to drift over the village, obscuring sight to little more than a few feet. The corsairs swiftly moved into the village square, their weapons drawn and bows strung. At least two were situated at each home, more than enough to take the humans within quickly, with one final look at Lonccia Valnir gave the order. With a curt nod the chaos began..
* * * *
Sir Rinehart dragged himself from his dream at the sound of screaming, an acidly stench burnt his nostrils as his eyes flickered open. Rising he stretched, causing many bones to creak within his frame; then noting an orange glow from the window he curiously opened it. As the wooden frame was swung open he was met with a scene of carnage. Homes were alight, this was the cause of the smoke and sat in the centre were most the inhabitants of the village. Guarding them were over fifty tall beings; by their frames he could see they were slim humans, most likely well trained and athletic. Each wore a long cloak of some sort of animal, the scales were large and the humans forms were almost entirely covered by the cloaks. Each bore two large and wickedly shaped swords, a design Rinehart have never seen before. His attention was quickly brought back into his more immediate area as he could hear footsteps outside his door, these were followed by the sound of the other rooms being broken into before the intruders finally broke through his own. Before they did he had time to pick up his sword and stand behind the door; as the first raider stepped forwards he was met with a blow to the chest that knocked him backwards into his companion. Knowing enough about combat Rinehart didn't stop there thinking they were dealt with, quickly he moved forwards and silenced them. Looking down upon the prone forms he swore,
â€œBy the lady!â€? as he got a good look upon the humans. There were not human as he first thought but elven, nothing like he had read about for these were of paler skin and darker hair. They also bore weapons he had never been told of, curiously he bent over a plucked a crossbow from one of the dead elves; the design was the same to most he had seen â€“ if better in craftsmanship â€“ but where the bolt was placed to be loaded was a box. Looking at it carefully he saw it was in fact full of crossbow bolts. Frowning then sneering he tossed the missile weapon away, removing his sword from the throat of the elf he had killed and then he turned towards the common room. Only to be met with a powerful strike between the eyes, as he fell backwards he looked up and once again received a jabbing blow to the face; this time he was pitched into darkness.
Slowly his thoughts began to congeal and with a groan his eyes fluttered open. Placing a hand to bridge of his nose he gentle rubbed it to try and ease the pain; flakes of dried blood fell from the area as he worked it with his fingers. Looking around him Rinehart could see that he was grouped with the people from the village other than that he could see little else; five baskets of fire hung high up on the walls casting only slight shadows onto the occupants and giving no indication of the rooms size. As he moved he became aware of something else, he was chained. In the near dark he traced the chain until he met the hand of the person at the other end, the same was true of his ankles too. Suddenly a bright light flooded the room.