[MOD]
Decrepit Dakkanaut
Cozy cockpit of an Archer ARC-5S
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The Drakwald Forest..
The huge forest that covers a large part of the Empire. While the forest is certainly dangerous, not all sections are treacherous and many towns and cities thrive in cleared areas of the forest. Though even in cleared sections, many patches of woods remain. And within those green patches darker things still hide, deep within the recesses of it, things best left out of the light and forever cast into the darkness.
Indeed, there are many cautionary tales and legends of what happens at night. All meant to scare people, all filled with gruesome details and fancy morals. All true to some degree as well. But the most important thing is a single theme, one that even fools know: never travel at night.
In the distance there was the crack of a whip, the clatter of hoofs and the rattle of wheels. Someone was in a hurry to get somewhere. Someone foolish enough to travel at night. High overhead the twin moons of the Old World, Mannslieb and Morrslieb, shone their light onto the forest below. Mannslieb, the lover of the sea-god Manann seemed as benevolent and beautiful as ever, her rays illuminated the forest below. It's evil sibling Morrslieb however, was as ominous and foreboding as always. It was bright tonight, a bad omen.
A bad omen indeed.
A loud shot tore through the night as bestial howls filled the air, mingling with the panicked cries of horses and the angry shouts of men. Someone screamed out in pain, the cry quickly silenced.
The lone stagecoach had run into an ambush, as more than half a dozen beastmen sprang their trap upon their hapless victims. One of the two draft horses was speared and killed instantly, its companion wildly tearing and pulling at its restraints. The driver was also killed, one of the Beastmen had pulled him from the coach and beaten him to death with a cudgel. The coachman riding shotgun had fired his blunderbuss into the mass of the beasts, downing one with a hail of rusty nails and scrap metal.
'Back you devils! Back!'
He had jumped from the coach all the while waving a torch and dagger round as he slowly backed towards the open door of the coach. He dared a quick glance over his shoulder, noting that one of the two occupants was missing.
'Where is he?'
The other occupant, a young noblewoman dressed in lace and silks, was sobbing to herself.
'He ran!'
The coachman waved the torch at his attackers again, desperately thinking of some way to escape the infernal things. He knew escape was impossible. The odds were against him and his torch would not hold back those monsters forever. With a grim determination born from a meek life of hardship the coachman decided to sell his life and the life of his remaining charge as dearly as possible.
However, they were not alone that night. As they were stalked by the hungry beastmen, so were they stalked by something as well.
A flash of silver flew through the night and a throwing axe embedded itself into the back of one of the Gors. With a savage scream a man bedecked in furs and fetishes burst from the dark woods, brandishing a gleaming axe in each hand. An Ungor was thrown off its hoofed feet as the axes arced into its torso and disembowelled it. The other Beastmen turned to face the new threat with brays and guttural cries for blood and violence. Their blood was up now, excited at the prospect of even more man-things to eat and offer to their herd stone. Their own dead would also make for a feast. Tonight was a good night indeed for the hunt.
The hunter was undaunted as the Beastmen turned on him. He raised a single gore smeared axe in challenge. He showed no fear and seemed to have dealt with Beastmen before, wearing their vile furs as a cloak and carrying two bleached Beastman skulls as trophies on a rack attached to his back. His face was hidden by a leather mask, two horns, one broken, protruding from the rear of it. It seemed to have an unnerving effect on his opponents, who hesitated for a moment, snorting and braying, seemingly reluctant to close in for the kill. The hunter let out another wordless roar and charged forward. Patience it seemed, was not his virtue.
+ + +
As the Beastmen directed their attention to the new threat the coachman quickly darted for the blunderbuss he had discarded after firing it. He snatched weapon along with his powder horn from the bench and dove into the coach, quickly pouring a large amount of powder into the barrel. He reached round for his- Shot! He had no shot! He looked round, searching for something to use as ammunition for the weapon. 'Oh blast and damnation' the coachman muttered as he pulled a purse of coins from a open lockbox and tore it open, pouring the golden Karls into the barrel of his blunderbuss. The noblewoman said nothing, instead grabbing another bag and pulled it open, just in case he needed more.
'Stay back miss, running won't do us any good. Our best chance is to stay here and hope that the brave soul out there can down a few to even the odds for us a bit.'
One of the Ungor decided that the savage man was too dangerous turned its attention back to the coach, letting out a braying sound as it charged towards it, two crude stone clubs poised for the slaughter. With a curse the coachman primed his blunderbuss and aimed, waiting for the beast to be less than an arms length away before pulling the trigger.
BOOM!
The beast fell backwards into the dirt, its thick hide puckered and punctured with golden coins.
'That's about three years of pay I just shot away!' the coachman remarked as he reloaded the weapon, pouring another bag of coins into the weapon.
'Get us out of here alive and I’ll make sure you get trice the amount each year.' The noblewoman calmly replied as she reached around for anything else to use as ammunition for the weapon.
+ + +
Grimly the hunter set to work with his axes, carving and cutting into flesh with each swing. He swiped at a large Gor, slamming it off its feet with a slash to the calf. It tried to crawl away with the shattered leg but the hunter brought one of his axes crashing down onto the spine, severing it with a heavy blow. He could smell the fear of the beast as it tried to claw away from him. With a guttural roar the hunter brought the other axe down, splitting the skull.
And as sudden as that, silence returned to the night. The remaining Beastmen had fled, leaving behind their dead.
Slowly the hunter advanced on the coach, pausing a moment to study the shot beast. The noblewoman cautiously peered out the window as the coachman stood in the door, his blunderbuss held ready. The hunter seemed a man of middle age, with empty grey eyes and unkempt dark hair, his gaunt features were spattered with gore. The coachman realized with horror that the leather mask was in fact the skin of a Beastman, draped over his head like a ghastly mask. The coachman couldn't help but flinch when the man spoke, a sad but powerful voice behind the mask.
'They're gone for now. Get that horse and head back for the inn, you are better off there than here tonight.'
The coachman nodded his thanks and went to the remaining horse, trying his best to calm the frightened animal with soothing words. The noblewoman spoke up.
'My husband! What of him? He ran when they flooded from the forests. We must find him.'
The hunter shook his head once.
'Only fools go out into the forests at night. I will search for him, return to the inn.'
The hunter retrieved the throwing axe from the dead Ungor and stalked off into the darkness of the Drakwald Forest. It took a moment for the noblewoman to compose herself, ungainly stepping out of the coach. She noticed that the remaining draft horse was unhitched and had calmed down somewhat, though it still showed signs of fear in its skittish moves. She also noticed that the coachman was dragging the body of the driver towards the horse, grunting as he did so.
'What are you doing?'
The coachman stopped pulling the body for a moment, wiping his brow.
'Your husband, curse his bones made us do something very stupid miss by riding on in the night. Gustav here was like a brother to me and I will not let him rot here or be turned into some trophy for these monsters. He deserves a proper burial or else frau Gustav will skin me alive.'
She nodded, it was the fault of her husband, who ignored all warnings and wanted to reach Altdorf as soon as possible. Somehow she felt partially responsible. She helped him haul the body onto the horse and was then helped onto the horse herself. The coachman guided the animal along, his dagger in one hand, the reigns in the other.
The trek back was in silence. The noblewoman was shivering and jumped at every shadow, looking left and right in an unnerved manner.
'Bloated Sow,' the coachman said all of the sudden with relief in his voice. The noblewoman looked up in surprise, seeing the fortified inn they had passed not long ago. She smiled as she saw a wisp of smoke rise from the chimney. Faint light could be seen from the nooks and crannies in the door and windows.
'Safety,' she replied in hushed tones.
The coachman grunted in agreement, doubling his pace to get there as quickly as possible. When they reached the door he knocked twice, thumping his fist against the sturdy door of oak. There were muffled sounds at the other side for a moment. Frantically the bolts and locks were thrown off and the door creaked open, a concerned and slightly overweight man in stained clothes and an apron standing there.
'Taal's teeth, get in as quickly as you can.'
The innkeeper whistled once and a few moments later a young lad appeared from the fortified stables, wiping the sleep from his eyes.
'Quickly now boy, take the horse and body to the stables.' He turned to the coachman and noblewoman, beckoning them in with rapid waving motions of his meaty arm, cautiously looking at the dark forest behind them. He slammed the door behind them shut and made a heavy sigh of relief.
'These nights are not safe ones. Only fools are out now. We warned you didn't we? Only fools ride out at night.'
'You did, and our ignorance cost us dearly,' The coachman replied bitterly.
The innkeeper was alone with his wife, no guests were present in the gloomy but warm room. The coachman guided his charge to the fire pit and sat her down there on a bench. He then shrugged his cloak off and put it around her shoulders, as she sat shivering besides the crackling fire. He turned to the innkeeper and his wife, asking what was on the mind of both him and his mistress.
'Do you happen to know of a man bedecked in furs and fetishes and who carries axes. Who is that man?'
The innkeeper let out a sad sigh as he poured several tankards of ale and a snifter of brandy.
'He has no name, not any more. He is a dark wanderer, full of misery and self loathing. His is a woeful tale. Kith and kin slaughtered by the wild beasts of the forest on a night when he was out. When he returned to the ruin of what was once his home and his life he cursed himself forever for not being there when they needed him the most. Be grateful sire and milady that he showed up when he did, for otherwise you would have encountered a fate worse than death.'
A heavy silence fell over them. Despite sitting right next to the fireplace the noblewoman was shivering even more.
Thump!
Everybody jumped in their seats at the single heavy knock on the heavy door. The coachman went for his blunderbuss but the innkeeper told him that it was al right. He shuffled over to the door and unlocked it, pulling it open to reveal the blood and gore smeared hunter standing there. He had an axe in one hand, the other was in a loop on his belt. He stepped in and walked directly towards the noblewoman, holding out his clenched fist to her. He stank of the beasts and other vile things. He slowly shook his head at her.
'I was too late, they had already begun on him. I did all I could to make the passage of his soul into Morr's realm as soothing as possible.'
The noblewoman nodded meekly. Probably for the best, even a bastard like him didn't deserve a slow death at the hand of such monsters. She had heard what happened to people who were caught alive. An involuntary shudder when through her as she recalled the tales she had heard as a lass about the skinned cadavers, the heathen rituals. They weren't awful bedtime stories to scare children, not any more.
'This was all I could retrieve from his person.'
He said it without emotion but his eyes were burning with hatred. She held out her hand and the hunter dropped a golden signet ring into it. It was smeared with blood but she could see the crest of her late husband on it. She merely nodded once.
The hunter nodded to the innkeeper and his wife, then made for the door once more. The noblewoman dropped the ring and got up.
'We never got to thank you good sir.'
He didn't reply immediately. He marched back out the door, casting a single glance over his shoulder.
'And you will never have to.'
He pulled the door shut with a slam, startling the noblewoman. The innkeeper shuffled over to the door and threw the bars and locks across it again, shutting out the cold harsh night and its many, many dangers.
'Poor soul, forever doomed to relive the same nightmare over and over again.' The innkeeper said with a shake of his head. He joined his wife behind the bar once more, giving her a tight embrace. 'He will never find rest again for as long as he lives.'
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Something from Halloween last year. This is that something that I was asked to write based on the simple description of "people get ambushed, mysterious hunter saves the day, insert drama and violence". With such a short description on what it's supposed to be, it left a whole lot to the imagination. I've decided to keep things simple and easy though in the end there are some things I'd rather not use, but seeing as this is not for me I can only point these out and get STFU in reply. The person who asked me to write this was most pleased with this and made some small additions of her own, the two sound effects in bold. I'm not a fan of such things but if it pleases her, it shall be done.
Also while looking at it now the story has something of that little cliché involving the mysterious man who swoops in and saves the day. But don't we all like that sort of thing to some degree? While the hunter does save the day the story still manages to end low, or at least I think it ends low. My attempts at drama have been somewhat rusty. And yes, I am aware that he sounds like I AM BATMAN.
As always, comments and feedback are most welcome!
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