Iskover
Member!
Here's my new story. Please read it and tell me how good it is and I'll continue it.
Jaresh huddled down lower in the bushes, doing his best to not shake and give away his location. Close by, he could hear the clanking noise of the golem, hunting through the forest after him. After a few moments, he heard it moving away, and he risked moving a little bit to see.
In a rush, the golem came crashing back towards him, and Jaresh leaped up, dashing away with a squeak. But golems are faster than five-year old boys, and it picked him up by the back of his tunic. “Alright, now you’ve earned spankings,†his father’s voice issued from the grille-like mouth.
Jaresh crossed his arms. “Not fair! I just wanna play some more before suppertime!â€
As the golem carried the boy back to their house, Tharos’ voice chuckled forth. “You have chores that you promised to do this morning, Jaresh. No more time for playing.â€
Subdued, Jaresh carefully climbed the spikes on the iron golem to perch across the shoulders. Always curious, he played with a reddish shard of stone embedded in the golem’s forehead. Before long, the trees fell away behind him, and Tharos, his father, stood outside their cottage on the edge of the village.
As the golem slowed, Jaresh leapt off, landing with a thump in his father’s arms. As promised, the necromancer turned his son over and whacked his bottom a few times with the wand. “I told you this morning at breakfast to do your chores on time,†Tharos admonished as his son wailed. “Now get inside and help your mother with the cooking.â€
Enticed by the smells of dinner, the boy bounced inside, pain forgotten. Tharos sighed, looking at the golem. Surprisingly, the shard of Worldstone he picked up at the mountain kept the magic going. It was fortunate for the necromancer and his wife – while they certainly could afford a pair of oxen to plow the fields of their home, the golem was stronger and more dependable.
With a last look towards the setting sun, he turned to go inside. But down the road from the village came Aragon, his face troubled. “Good evening, Aragon,†Tharos called out, turning from the door to meet him. “What brings you out this way?â€
The farmer wrung his hands, stumbling over his words. “It’s the babe,†he said. “I think she’s caught the fever.â€
Now Tharos’ expression mirrored the other. “Dear angels in Heaven,†he muttered. “Let me get my bag from inside, and I’ll see if there’s anything I can do.â€
“Th-tharos?†Aragon fought back tears as he stuttered. “If anything should happen to her, will she be in Heaven?â€
He clapped a strong hand on the farmer’s shoulder. “All children are free of sin, Aragon.†Abashed, the man lowered his face. “Don’t worry about it too much right now. Go back home, I’ll be there quickly.â€
Tharos went quickly into their two-room cottage. It seemed small, but it was the finest house in the village. Oksana looked up from the fireplace, one hand absently rubbing her swelling belly. “What is it?â€
“Another case of fever. Aragon’s new babe.†He took down the few pouches of medicine, then stopped to stare into the fire for a moment. “I’m not the one who should be doing this, curse it! I’m not an apothecary or a doctor.â€
She came over, wrapping her arms around him. “You’re all this village has, my love. Besides,†she smiled, “After defeating Baal, you said you wanted somewhere small and quiet to raise children. Being a healer is hardly the worst thing we could be doing.â€
“True.†He patted her belly, where their second child was growing. “Keep an eye, or a leash, on Jaresh,†he said, looking at their son where he carefully cut carrots into the pan.
Sighing, he hefted the bag of herbs and potions, departing into the sunset towards the village.
“But he must return to Kurast!†The messenger barely ducked out of the way as Larzuk lifted the cherry-red iron out of the fire, bringing it around to the anvil.
“No, he doesn’t. Rupert runs the new cathedral out here, and the Kurast council can come here if they want.†Lifting the massive hammer, he pounded the end into a proper leaf shape for a spearhead. “It’s barely half-built, and they want to drag him halfway across the world?â€
The messenger ducked as the chisel separated the iron head from the rest of the iron bar, dropping it into the bucket of water to hiss. “They’re making him a bishop. His duties won’t allow him to remain here.â€
“Won’t allow who to remain here?†Rupert stepped in the door, slapping sawdust from his clothing. He looked up to see the messenger, and frowned. “No. I don’t care what the Council says. I’m building this cathedral here, restoring Tristram, and if they don’t like it, they can come here and throw me out of the Order of Paladins.â€
Helpless, the man shrugged. “Sir Rupert, I have to return with you! The Council orders you to become a bishop.â€
Rupert made an offensive gesture, and Larzuk boomed in laughter as the messenger reddened. “Absolutely not, and that’s final. I managed to help defeat the Prime Evils, so no bunch of priests sitting in a gold-decked temple halfway around the world can order me to do anything I don’t wish to.†Ignoring the protests from the messenger, Rupert stepped over to a table, picking up a wineskin and taking a squirt of the sweet white.
At last, the messenger fell silent, apparently thinking. “Sir Rupert, the Council did expect that you might not wish to obey their orders. If you do not return, they have ordered that all shards of the Worldstone here in Tristram be confiscated and returned to Kurast to be placed into their care.â€
“What?†Larzuk roared, narrowly missing the man with another red-hot iron bar. “They have no authority here, and no justification to do that either!â€
Rupert held up a calming hand, and the barbarian slowly subsided. When he finally spoke, his voice was slow, calm, and chilling. “Go back to Kurast and tell the Council, that if they attempt such an order here, or anywhere my friends and I are, then they have sided with Hell, not Heaven.â€
Turning, he stalked out of the blacksmith. The messenger fled after him, and Larzuk walked to the door, still holding the cooling piece of metal with his forge tongs. Sure enough, Rupert was climbing the side of their home, where the cages for his carrier pigeons were. As the Council messenger tried to climb the ladder, the paladin irritably kicked it over.
In a few minutes, the first bird winged away into the sky, flying northwest. “Telling Garou and Jezebel first,†Larzuk chuckled, before turning back to his forge and reheating the iron. Soon enough, two more birds vanished into the morning sky, to warn the heroes.
When the third bird had flown off, Rupert allowed the messenger to put the ladder back up, and he climbed down. The man was almost deathly pale. “You turned against the Council,†he whispered, aghast.
By this time, a fair crowd had gathered to watch their leader square off. “Turned against the Council? Are you daft, man? Do you know anything true about my past with the Council?†Rupert shook his head angrily, and started walking back towards the half-constructed cathedral.
“First they demand I submit to their judgement for breaking paladin custom. This is after I rescue them from the effects of Mephisto’s spell. After I prove them wrong, in their own halls of judgement, they grudgingly grant my request to rebuild the cathedral here at Tristram. Now that I’ve finally got work going, they try to call me back?
“No, no, a thousand times no!†Rupert whirled on the messenger. “Take yourself back out of Tristram, back to Kurast, and tell the Council that they should spend a little more time praying to Hadriel and Gabriel for guidance, and a little less time doing their back-room deals to make the church richer at the expense of the common pople!â€
With that proclamation, the entire village started ignoring the messenger. He stayed at the building for an hour, with the workers moving around him to raise the massive wooden cross-beams for the cathedral roof. Finally, with an air of defeat, the man left Tristram, climbing back onto his horse and taking the road south-west to Kingsport.
Jaresh huddled down lower in the bushes, doing his best to not shake and give away his location. Close by, he could hear the clanking noise of the golem, hunting through the forest after him. After a few moments, he heard it moving away, and he risked moving a little bit to see.
In a rush, the golem came crashing back towards him, and Jaresh leaped up, dashing away with a squeak. But golems are faster than five-year old boys, and it picked him up by the back of his tunic. “Alright, now you’ve earned spankings,†his father’s voice issued from the grille-like mouth.
Jaresh crossed his arms. “Not fair! I just wanna play some more before suppertime!â€
As the golem carried the boy back to their house, Tharos’ voice chuckled forth. “You have chores that you promised to do this morning, Jaresh. No more time for playing.â€
Subdued, Jaresh carefully climbed the spikes on the iron golem to perch across the shoulders. Always curious, he played with a reddish shard of stone embedded in the golem’s forehead. Before long, the trees fell away behind him, and Tharos, his father, stood outside their cottage on the edge of the village.
As the golem slowed, Jaresh leapt off, landing with a thump in his father’s arms. As promised, the necromancer turned his son over and whacked his bottom a few times with the wand. “I told you this morning at breakfast to do your chores on time,†Tharos admonished as his son wailed. “Now get inside and help your mother with the cooking.â€
Enticed by the smells of dinner, the boy bounced inside, pain forgotten. Tharos sighed, looking at the golem. Surprisingly, the shard of Worldstone he picked up at the mountain kept the magic going. It was fortunate for the necromancer and his wife – while they certainly could afford a pair of oxen to plow the fields of their home, the golem was stronger and more dependable.
With a last look towards the setting sun, he turned to go inside. But down the road from the village came Aragon, his face troubled. “Good evening, Aragon,†Tharos called out, turning from the door to meet him. “What brings you out this way?â€
The farmer wrung his hands, stumbling over his words. “It’s the babe,†he said. “I think she’s caught the fever.â€
Now Tharos’ expression mirrored the other. “Dear angels in Heaven,†he muttered. “Let me get my bag from inside, and I’ll see if there’s anything I can do.â€
“Th-tharos?†Aragon fought back tears as he stuttered. “If anything should happen to her, will she be in Heaven?â€
He clapped a strong hand on the farmer’s shoulder. “All children are free of sin, Aragon.†Abashed, the man lowered his face. “Don’t worry about it too much right now. Go back home, I’ll be there quickly.â€
Tharos went quickly into their two-room cottage. It seemed small, but it was the finest house in the village. Oksana looked up from the fireplace, one hand absently rubbing her swelling belly. “What is it?â€
“Another case of fever. Aragon’s new babe.†He took down the few pouches of medicine, then stopped to stare into the fire for a moment. “I’m not the one who should be doing this, curse it! I’m not an apothecary or a doctor.â€
She came over, wrapping her arms around him. “You’re all this village has, my love. Besides,†she smiled, “After defeating Baal, you said you wanted somewhere small and quiet to raise children. Being a healer is hardly the worst thing we could be doing.â€
“True.†He patted her belly, where their second child was growing. “Keep an eye, or a leash, on Jaresh,†he said, looking at their son where he carefully cut carrots into the pan.
Sighing, he hefted the bag of herbs and potions, departing into the sunset towards the village.
“But he must return to Kurast!†The messenger barely ducked out of the way as Larzuk lifted the cherry-red iron out of the fire, bringing it around to the anvil.
“No, he doesn’t. Rupert runs the new cathedral out here, and the Kurast council can come here if they want.†Lifting the massive hammer, he pounded the end into a proper leaf shape for a spearhead. “It’s barely half-built, and they want to drag him halfway across the world?â€
The messenger ducked as the chisel separated the iron head from the rest of the iron bar, dropping it into the bucket of water to hiss. “They’re making him a bishop. His duties won’t allow him to remain here.â€
“Won’t allow who to remain here?†Rupert stepped in the door, slapping sawdust from his clothing. He looked up to see the messenger, and frowned. “No. I don’t care what the Council says. I’m building this cathedral here, restoring Tristram, and if they don’t like it, they can come here and throw me out of the Order of Paladins.â€
Helpless, the man shrugged. “Sir Rupert, I have to return with you! The Council orders you to become a bishop.â€
Rupert made an offensive gesture, and Larzuk boomed in laughter as the messenger reddened. “Absolutely not, and that’s final. I managed to help defeat the Prime Evils, so no bunch of priests sitting in a gold-decked temple halfway around the world can order me to do anything I don’t wish to.†Ignoring the protests from the messenger, Rupert stepped over to a table, picking up a wineskin and taking a squirt of the sweet white.
At last, the messenger fell silent, apparently thinking. “Sir Rupert, the Council did expect that you might not wish to obey their orders. If you do not return, they have ordered that all shards of the Worldstone here in Tristram be confiscated and returned to Kurast to be placed into their care.â€
“What?†Larzuk roared, narrowly missing the man with another red-hot iron bar. “They have no authority here, and no justification to do that either!â€
Rupert held up a calming hand, and the barbarian slowly subsided. When he finally spoke, his voice was slow, calm, and chilling. “Go back to Kurast and tell the Council, that if they attempt such an order here, or anywhere my friends and I are, then they have sided with Hell, not Heaven.â€
Turning, he stalked out of the blacksmith. The messenger fled after him, and Larzuk walked to the door, still holding the cooling piece of metal with his forge tongs. Sure enough, Rupert was climbing the side of their home, where the cages for his carrier pigeons were. As the Council messenger tried to climb the ladder, the paladin irritably kicked it over.
In a few minutes, the first bird winged away into the sky, flying northwest. “Telling Garou and Jezebel first,†Larzuk chuckled, before turning back to his forge and reheating the iron. Soon enough, two more birds vanished into the morning sky, to warn the heroes.
When the third bird had flown off, Rupert allowed the messenger to put the ladder back up, and he climbed down. The man was almost deathly pale. “You turned against the Council,†he whispered, aghast.
By this time, a fair crowd had gathered to watch their leader square off. “Turned against the Council? Are you daft, man? Do you know anything true about my past with the Council?†Rupert shook his head angrily, and started walking back towards the half-constructed cathedral.
“First they demand I submit to their judgement for breaking paladin custom. This is after I rescue them from the effects of Mephisto’s spell. After I prove them wrong, in their own halls of judgement, they grudgingly grant my request to rebuild the cathedral here at Tristram. Now that I’ve finally got work going, they try to call me back?
“No, no, a thousand times no!†Rupert whirled on the messenger. “Take yourself back out of Tristram, back to Kurast, and tell the Council that they should spend a little more time praying to Hadriel and Gabriel for guidance, and a little less time doing their back-room deals to make the church richer at the expense of the common pople!â€
With that proclamation, the entire village started ignoring the messenger. He stayed at the building for an hour, with the workers moving around him to raise the massive wooden cross-beams for the cathedral roof. Finally, with an air of defeat, the man left Tristram, climbing back onto his horse and taking the road south-west to Kingsport.
