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Prologue: The Wandering Poet
"More ale up front!" bellowed the large and intimidating innkeeper into the crowded kitchen behind him, "How am I supposed to keep our customers satisfied if there isn't any ale up here??" One of the startled cooks scrambled to grab a fresh barrel of ale to bring to Migo at the counter.
"Terribly sorry, sir," the cook apologized as he replaced the empty barrel behind the counter with the full one, "I promise it won't happen again." Migo grunted,
"See that it doesn't." and proceeded to serve the waiting patrons.
And there were a lot of patrons tonight, thought Migo. More than he could remember ever seeing before. He was still new at this, however. Any passerby could see that Migo, an imposing, heavily-built man, had not been an innkeeper his whole life. Migo had lived as a mercenary for the better part of the past 20 years. However, in these times of peace, mercenary work was hard to come by. And besides that, Migo knew he wasn't getting any younger. He had used the money he'd saved from his mercenary work to purchase this inn, where he now worked as its barkeep and its owner. The venture had proved safer and more profitable than his previous line of work, and so he now considered himself retired from his former occupation.
"Lo, for death was upon him!" proclaimed one of the many patrons at the counter, "Lo, for had he not stepped off that cliff, gravity's cold embrace could not have touched him!"
"Drunk," muttered Migo, shouting at the man to pipe down or he'd be stepping off a cliff himself in due time.
"I have nothing to live for," the man said forlornly, "All my friends… killed on this pointless quest…" Now Migo's interest had been piqued. As a mercenary, he always enjoyed a good adventurers' tale, and the retelling of that tale could prove quite profitable later on. Migo had quickly learned that the key to running a successful inn was keeping the guests entertained. And this man clearly had a story to tell.
"If you please, sir," said Migo to his customer, "What is your name?" The man looked up at him.
"I am Celb, the poet. I am the only survivor of… The Expendables."
"The Expendables? Sir, you have a story to tell, correct?" Celb nodded slowly.
"Indeed. I do have a tale to tell. A tale of high adventure and of magic. A tale of deceit and betrayal. A tale of love and tragedy. A tale of heroes and dragons. A tale, I'm afraid, that is somewhat long in the telling."
"I have all the time in the world," Migo assured him, taking a seat on the opposite side of the counter, and barking an order to one of the cooks to cover for him.
"Very well, then," began Celb, "It all began in the kingdom of Ahntarak, which was my home until an unfortunate turn in events changed my life forever…"
Part One
The Streets of Ahntarak. Thievery. Justice is served.
"Lo, for he said unto me," spoke the poet, "Lo, for he did speakest to me." An unimpressive crowd had gathered to listen to this heretofore unheard of poet. They watched with detached interest as he continued. "Lo, did he tell me of certain things…."
"What in the seventeen hells did he say??" asked one impatient observer. The poet continued without paying him any heed.
"Lo, did he speaketh his words of wisdom unto mine ear."
"Thou dost suck!" yelled one observer, throwing a rock in the poet's direction. Accustomed to this type of reaction, he sidestepped the oncoming stone. The thief who had positioned herself behind him, however, was not as prepared. The rock struck her in the forehead.
"Owww!!" she exclaimed, rubbing her bruised head, "Watch where you're throwing those--" she trailed off as she noticed the poet staring at her.
"What??" she yelled irritably, "Haven't you ever seen a woman before?" The poet coughed.
"I was wondering why you were… ahhm… what was it you were doing?" he asked. The woman sighed.
"I was trying to pick your pocket, but that stupid rock-throwing wanna-be rock thrower had to go and throw that rock!" As she said this, her fingers discovered the gold coin within his pocket. She grabbed it, and held it up in front of her.
"Thanks for listening, chump!" she said with a grin, then proceeded to sprint in the other direction.
"What the-?" said the taken-aback poet before realizing that he had just been robbed, "Hey! Lo, for that thief hath taken my only possession!" Unfortunately for him, the crowd cared so little that there was in fact no crowd there at all anymore. The distressed poet quickly gave chase.
"Stop! Thief! Lo!" he continued to shout as he dashed through many alleyways, barely able to keep sight of the agile thief. He was just about out of breath when a loud thud sounded from around the corner. The poet rounded the same corner to find that the thief had run smack into a large, spiky-haired man who now had his sword drawn.
"I-- I'm sorry," said the woman hastily and tried to go around the man.
"Stop there, evildoer!" the man extended his blade to prevent the thief from proceeding further, "I am Ama, a hero of some renown. Surely you know that I would not allow a fellow citizen to be robbed of his only coin!" The breathless poet nodded gratefully from behind the thief, leaning on a wall and trying not to pass out. The annoyed thief stepped back and drew a dagger.
"He lies!" she claimed, "I stole nothing." Ama laughed heartily.
"The innocent to not draw weapons to defend themselves," he said confidently.
"You drew first," spat the thief, "What crime blackens your soul?" Ama blinked a couple times.
"Yes, but-- but I am a hero of some renown--" the woman scoffed,
"Some renown, indeed - I hadn't ever heard of you." Ama was clearly losing his control of the situation.
"Yes, but I-- I mean, surely you've-- that is, he--" he continued to sputter. The thief smirked and began to walk in the opposite direction. Only now, the poet blocked her path.
"Give me," he paused to gasp for more air, "my coin back!" the woman quickly drew up her dagger and pressed it against his throat.
"If you don't leave me alone," she warned, "You'll lose more than your lousy coin."
"Move not another inch, evildoer!" proclaimed Ama. The thief cursed under her breath. She had forgotten all about that oaf. "Now I truly know that you are a doer of evil! Turn around and face me like a man!" The woman blinked.
"A man!" she exclaimed incredulously, turning around with a look of such intense hatred in her eyes that Ama… well, Ama didn't really notice, being as he was too busy striking new heroic poses with his sword. "Why... you chauvinistic oaf of a… a.. . Of whatever the hell you are!!" The sound of a galloping horse thankfully cut off her failing retort, before Ama could counter with one that made even less sense. A heavily armored knight appeared riding a white horse; its saddle marked with the Royal Crest. The woman uttered a curse so strong that Ama passed out. But then, his loss of consciousness may just have been a coincidence.
"I am Ednar, Knight of the Crown. What is all the commotion here?" asked the knight, dismounting his horse and drawing his sword. His eyes searched the thief suspiciously.
"She robbed me!" The poet blurted, pointing his finger at the woman. Before she could open her mouth to deny the accusation, Ednar stepped swiftly between her and the poet, raising his sword threateningly.
"You there! Drop your weapon!!" demanded the knight. The poet blinked in disbelief.
"This isn't a weapon, it's just my finger!" he insisted. Ednar grunted.
"No weapon shall be drawn against me, including a finger!" he said as the poet allowed his arm to fall back into alignment with his body. Ednar calmed somewhat.
"Now then, what is your name?" he asked, returning to his position near his horse, where he could see the three of them clearly. The poet noticed ruefully that the woman still held her dagger, in such a position so as to conceal it from the knight's view. He stepped away from her.
"My name is Celb, sir." he stated, "I am a humble poet who was robbed of his only coin by her. Then she attacked me with a dagger!" The knight scoffed.
"You were robbed and attacked by a woman? You are either a liar or a pansy." Both Celb and the woman glared at the knight angrily, each for different reasons.
"And you? Who are you and what is your story?" Ednar asked, turning toward the thief.
"My name is Tyma," she spat the words as if daring the knight to challenge her, "And this man is both a liar and a pansy, to report as a thief the woman that he was just about to.. to…" she trailed off, allowing tears to begin flowing down her cheeks. It was a marvelous display of acting, and Ednar's expression darkened.
"You… you despicable wretch!" Ednar had turned to condemn Celb, "I will personally see to it that the rest of your life is… is…. short!"
"If you will search her," said Cleb through clenched teeth, "You will find a single gold coin, and the dagger she attacked me with." Ednar took another glance at Tyma; spotted the gleaming metal of the dagger she was attempting to hide.
"I have no choice but to take you both in!" he said finally, "What about that one?" he indicated the large, collapsed man and the sword next to him.
"He's nobody," replied Celb and Tyma simultaneously. This aroused Ednar's suspicions. He poked Ama's body with his sword. Ama stirred, and looked up at the formidable knight.
"Who are you and what are you doing here?" Ednar demanded to know.
"I am Ama," answered Ama, "A hero of some renown." Lying on his back, his eyes slightly glazed over, Ama was hardly convincing.
"I am left with no choice but to bring all of you in," said Ednar grimly, "You will be judged later." Ama's eyes widened.
"But… but you can't!" he cried out as Ednar dragged him to his feet, "I am a hero of some renown! Do you hear me?? A HERO OF SOME RENOWN!"
Part Two
The jail cell. An important meeting. A spy returns.
It was past peak time in the bar, and the usual rowdy crowd at Migo's inn had calmed somewhat. One by one, many had begun to take an interest in Celb's story, and by now a respectable number of them were gathered around him, while the rest of Migo's patrons talked amongst themselves at the various tables scattered throughout.
"Women," snorted a large man sitting next to Celb, "Never can trust the wenches. They tell a sob story and there's not a knight in the land who won't bend over backwards to appease her." The various other listeners grunted in approval. Celb shrugged.
"Well, my relationship with her could only go uphill from there…" Migo raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, might there be a touch of romance in this tragic tale?" he asked, thinking more of how that would boost the story's entertainment value than how he might offend Celb by such a statement. Celb forced a smile.
"Lo, for mine tale doth posses every element an epic tale should… romance, intrigue, treachery..."
"Humor?" asked one of the patrons. The others laughed heartily.
"Of course," Celb said, slightly insulted, "I'm pretty sure Ama only existed for comic relief in the first place."
"A HERO OF SOME RENOWN!!!" Ama continued to shout, grasping the bars of the prison cell and attempting to fit as much of his head through the bars as possible. Although this provided the others with some amusement for a few minutes, after a few hours of Ama repeating the same five words which seemed to constitute his entire vocabulary several hundred times, they were pleading with him to stop.
"Understood," said Ama after one particularly threatening remark by Celb, "I will honor the request of the poet. The implied insult to Tyma only infuriated her further, as if being trapped in a cell with an oaf and a pansy weren't bad enough.
"Listen, Palindrome-boy," uttered Tyma angrily, stepping in front of the hero, "I don't care how much renown you think you have. I will not stand here and be insulted by the likes of you!"
"Being as we're trapped in a cell, I would venture to guess that you have little choice, actually," Celb helpfully pointed out from the corner of the cell that he was sitting in.
"Shut up, you... you poet pansy pushover!" shouted the infuriated Tyma.
"Poet pansy pushover," repeated Celb, amused, "Try saying that three times fast!"
"Poet pansy pushover, poet pansy pushover, pushet poshy pansover-- dammit!" attempted Ama. Tyma gave him a look that could kill. Celb simply laughed and rose from where he was sitting.
"I believe this calls for a poem!" he announced heartily. Ama wasn't sure, but he thought he saw Tyma's pupils begin to transform into small skulls as her expression turned to one that you might expect to find on an ax murderer. Celb didn't notice, while Ama didn't care.
"Lo, for three strangers were trapped in a cell.
Lo, for they were not feeling too well.
Lo, for they didst notice the smell.
And one by one our heroes fell." Celb's poem concluded to the roaring ovation of deathly silence. Ama, sensing that he was supposed to do something, began to applaud. Tyma immediately punched him in the face, and the hero pitched face down, unconscious.
"...and then there were two." said Celb reverently.
"Don't tempt me," muttered Tyma, who was in relatively good spirits after relieving herself of Ama's presence, but still would need to kill a few people in order to fully relieve the tension within her.
"Gyeeeeee hee hee!!" came a shrill voice from the dark corner of the cell.
"What the hell was that??" asked Tyma, having no idea what else could be in the small cell that she hadn't noticed already. Celb simply blinked. Huddled in the corner, was a huddled mass that evidently was a very old man who, now that Celb had taken notice of him, was apparently the source of the nauseating aroma in the cell.
"The name'z Gitaf!" wheezed the huddled mass, "I've been in thiz cell for nigh on to three hundred yearz!" Tyma gazed at the man incredulously, while Celb stared wide-eyed.
"I… I was sitting in that corner!" he said, appalled, "How in the name of all that rhymes did I not notice him!?" The huddled mass shrugged.
"Ah yezz, the corner-sitter. That waz quite painful. You nearly crushed these old lungs of mine!" Gitaf cackled. "Ah, theze old bonez ain't able to take that kinda thing anymore!" He then proceeded to hack and wheeze until he was spitting up blood. Celb put his hand over his mouth, trying not to throw up. After watching the old man spit up more blood than any human should be able to contain, Celb's eyes rolled up into the back of his head and passed out. Tyma, flabbergasted at the ridiculousness of the events that had just taken place, simply banged her head against the bars of the cell, knocking herself into merciful unconsciousness.
~ ~
The King of Ahntarak sat in his meeting chamber, his face showing lines of worry as well as other lines that indicated a lack of sleep. Several knights were standing before him, many of their own faces carrying the same traits.
"Have we heard any word from our diplomats?" asked the king.
"I'm afraid not, your majesty," replied one of the knights, "I believe it is safe to assume that they were killed." The King sighed.
"And what of our spies?" he asked.
"We haven't heard a word from them either," was the reply, "Ruji should be returning any day now, if he is still alive."
"He is," said the King confidently, "There's not a man alive who can find Ruji when he does not wish to be found." At that moment, the door to the chamber opened. The king half-expected Ruji to show himself, but instead it was another knight, Ednar, accompanied by his brother Itsur. The king's expression darkened.
"Ednar, I trust you have a good reason for being late?" he asked.
"Ednar always has a reason for being late!" Itsur came to his brother's defense, much to Ednar's chagrin, "He is late quite frequently, Majesty! But he always has an excuse-- er, reason!" Ednar clenched his teeth irritably. Itsur had always harbored dreams of becoming a knight. When his brother Ednar had accomplished that task, Itsur had become a squire in the hopes of getting close enough to the king to show how he would make a better knight than his brother. And so, he was always finding ways to besmirch his brother's reputation, not that the king had ever taken much notice. Ednar addressed the king,
"I apologize for my brother's high level-"
"High level!" Itsur emphasized.
"-of retardation this evening," said Ednar with a bow, "I encountered some troublemakers in the town square who needed to be thrown in prison."
"Oh?" the king was always interested in the administration of justice in his kingdom, "Their classes?"
"Thief, Poet, and Hero. They all looked to be first-level to me. Real losers." The king furrowed his brow.
"I can see why you would imprison a thief and a poet… but why on earth would you imprison a hero?" he questioned. Ednar sniffed.
"He was incredibly stupid, your majesty," he explained, "He continuously repeated that he was a hero of some renown, and-"
"A hero of some renown!?" asked the shocked king, "You imprisoned a hero of some renown? Good lord, what is wrong with you? Are we no better than the evil Kingdom of Soviecia?" Ednar, taken aback at being admonished so harshly by his king, began to sputter an apology, while Itsur smirked.
"Shall I go release the hero, sire?" offered Itsur. The king ignored him.
"Ednar, you are to proceed to the jail immediately and have the hero freed. Bring him here that I may personally apologize." Ednar bowed obediently, and turned to walk out of the room
"Now then," the king cleared his throat, "The last time we were able to successfully gather intelligence on Soviecia, we knew that they were mobilizing their army. And, based on their long history of hostility with our kingdom, it is generally assumed that they are planning some kind of offensive on Ahntarak…" The king was interrupted once more as the door to the chamber swung open. Standing in the doorway, a hooded figure wearing a dark green tunic and a longbow strung across his chest addressed the assembly of knights. The various knights' looked on in astonishment as their old comrade-in-arms rejoined them. The expert archer Ruji had returned.
"Your majesty, Soviecia is preparing for war!"
Part Three
The princess. A plan is hatched. The prisoners released.
Ednar walked glumly through the various hallways that made up the royal wing of the castle.
"Hero of some renown, indeed," he muttered, "Sometimes, I think the king spends too much time playing roleplaying games and not enough time in the real world." At that moment, a familiar face emerged from one of the many doors along the corridor. Ednar froze like a deer caught in a truck's headlights. The girl's eyes may well have been headlights, for how brightly the sparkled upon seeing Ednar.
"EDNAR!" the girl shrieked giddily, "My Knight in shining armor!"
"Oh no." Ednar turned and walked swiftly in the other direction. He soon felt a tug on his arm as he was forcibly turned around by the insistent girl.
"How could you walk away from me like that?" she asked, tears welling up in her eyes, "Is it… because… you don't like me?" Ednar sighed.
"Princess Sitra, I'm in enough trouble with your father as it is…" Sitra gazed at him wide-eyed.
"Really? Did you profess to him your love for me? That's so brave!" Ednar knew that she was deliberately misinterpreting him, and so didn't bother to respond to the comment.
"That old fuddyduddy is just stubborn," she continued, "He'll get used to the idea eventually." Ednar, not for the first time, thought of how bizarre it was that both Sitra and the king were convinced that he had a thing for her, despite the fact that he had never shown the slightest bit of interest. If anything, he always acted repelled by her presence.
"Madame," Ednar tried to keep his voice calm, "The last time I even spoke your name, the king threatened to have me beheaded." Sitra giggled.
"What a silly fuddyduddy." Ednar glared at her.
"In any case, I am on the king's business right now. So I'm afraid I must be going." Ednar strode past the giggling princess, but she quickly moved to catch up with him.
"Wow, really?" she continued mercilessly, "What did he send you to do? Something glorious and honorable?" Once again her sparkling eyes nearly blinded Ednar, who wasn't sure how much more of this he could take before he'd break down and cry.
"Apparently, some guy calling himself a hero needs to be freed from the prison--" Sitra blinked several times, which had a strobe-light effect in the darkened corridor.
"A hero! Wow! I never met a hero before! Gee, I sure hope he is of some renown!"
Ednar broke down and cried.
~ ~
"Proceed, Ruji," said the king. Ruji nodded graciously.
"There is no doubt that the Kingdom of Soviecia is mobilizing for war," he began, "We had guessed that much. However, while among the citizenry, I discovered that there were rumors circulating regarding some kind of ancient relic. It seems that this relic has powerful magical properties that may be able to tip the balance of the war in Soviecia's favor." The king began to pace irritably.
"Is that all you know? Have you any idea where this relic is? Or what it is?" Ruji shook his head.
"I'm afraid not, your majesty." The king furrowed his brow.
"I'm placed in a difficult position," he admitted, "I can't spare any Knights from the war effort to go on a wild goose chase for some relic. On the other hand, I'm not sure I can afford to ignore this piece of information. It is unwise to sacrifice the small edge we may have gained from this knowledge."
"Then I'll go!" piped in Itsur at the most inopportune of moments, "I'll get your relic for you!" The king nearly ordered Itsur dragged out of the room and executed at that very moment, except that he realized that wasn't a bad idea at all. This might prove an ample opportunity to rid himself of those who would only get in the way during the war effort. And, now that the king thought about it, this could be an effective method of keeping Ruji out of his hair for awhile. Ruji always felt the need to plan strategy with the king, and although Ruji was not a very good strategist, the other Knights were so intimidated by him that they didn't dare point out his flaws. This could work to the great disadvantage for Ahntarak in the weeks ahead.
"I agree, Itsur," said the king finally. Itsur stared at the king in surprise.
"Wh-- why thank you, your majesty!" he exclaimed, "I won't let you down!" The king held up a hand.
"Ruji, I want you to go with him." Now it was Ruji's turn to stare at the king in surprise.
"But… my lord, I think I will best serve Ahntarak by fighting to protect it--" he began to protest before a piercing glare from the king silenced him.
"You best serve Ahntarak by serving its king. I will send anyone I can spare to assist you. Get a good night's rest, both of you. Reconvene here tomorrow morning." Ruji bowed and left the room. Itsur continued to stand there stupidly.
"Dismissed, Itsur," said the king firmly, thinking to himself how nice it would be to finally be rid of him.
"Yes, thank you, sire!" Itsur responded automatically, without moving. The king heaved a great sigh.
"Guards," he quickly snapped, out of habit. The two Knights nearest him quickly snatched up the confused scribe and deposited him outside the room.
~ ~
Ednar found himself standing agape at the jail cell where he had left his prisoners not an hour ago. The ground was inexplicably flooded with blood about an inch deep.
"Wow, pretty!" Sitra demonstrated her horrible timing once again, "What a beautiful shade of red!" Ednar ignored her nonsensical bantering, instead looking over the three unconscious prisoners, and eventually fixing his gaze on the huddled mass in the corner.
"You!" Ednar called out, "Huddled mass!" Gitaf coughed and raised his head.
"There waz a ship!" the old man wheezed inexplicably. Ednar wrinkled his nose in disgust as Gitaf's slight movement released odors that no human should ever be subjected to.
"Aww… poor little huddle mass," said Sitra, moving to the bars of the cell and reaching out as if to pet him, "Ednar, how could you lock away a cute little huddled mass like this?" Tears began to well up in the girl's shimmering eyes. Ednar stared at the wheezing old geezer in disbelief.
"CUTE??" he exclaimed, forgetting for the moment his oath to ignore Sitra at all costs, "That.. That thing is the most reprehensible creature on the planet!" Sitra stared up at the Knight wide-eyed.
"Can I keep him? Pleeeeeease?" Ednar shook his head so violently that it seemed for a moment that it would surely fall from his shoulders.
"Absolutely not!" he declared vehemently. Sitra shrank away from him, hurt. A sudden cry of "A HERO OF SOME RENOWN!" from within the cell served as a convenient interruption to the awkward moment. Ama was now standing poised and ready to attack. He glared at Ednar angrily.
"You!" he cried out, "The foul Knight who here imprisoned me in this jail cell of little renown! Thou shalt pay for thy evil crimes!" Ama suddenly charged forward at Ednar, who winced as Ama slammed face-first into the bars of his own jail cell. Surprisingly, the spiky-haired oaf managed to remain standing, albeit reeling, after the self-inflicted blow.
"Wow!" exclaimed Sitra giddily, "You really must be a hero of some renown to be able to do that! But why would you want to hurt my Ednar?" Ama's angry expression softened when he became aware of the princess' presence.
"I apologize for such actions of rashness," he said, "But this knight hath falsely imprisoned a hero of some renown!"
"Fardles, Ednar!!" Sitra emphasized her point by jamming her heel into the Knight's shins, "Can't you do anything right?" Ednar wondered at the pain he suffered despite his armor. Sitra took it upon herself to take the cell's keys from the Knight, freeing the prisoners herself. Ama quickly roused Tyma and Celb. Both were dazed and had were entirely clueless as to what was going on, but this was not a particularly new sensation for either of them.
"We're… being freed?" Tyma was the first of the two to regain her senses.
"Hey, wait just a second…" Ednar interposed himself between the prisoners and freedom, "My orders are only to have the hero released." He said the last bit with an edge of sarcasm in his voice.
"I go where my friends go," Ama stated firmly.
"Friends??" Tyma looked like she was about to launch into a rant. An insistent nudge from Celb silenced her. Ednar regarded them coldly.
"Fine, you're all released," he muttered, knowing that returning to the king without Ama was not an option.
"YAY!" exclaimed Sitra, jumping up in the same manner that an RPG character might after winning a battle. Ednar stepped aside, allowing Ama, Celb, Tyma, and Gitaf out of their cell.
"This way," Ednar grunted, turning to walk back in the direction he came. The six of them started off down the corridor, but hadn't gone 50 feet before a voice from within another jail cell called out Ednar's name.
"Thank the gods, you're back!!" cried out the rasp voice. Ednar and the others looked within the cell of the speaker, and there found a beggar wearing ragged clothing.
"...I remember you," said Ednar, trying to recall the details.
"You threw me in jail for panhandling!" the beggar reminded him, "You said it was just for one night! I've been here for two years!!" The others stared at Ednar in disbelief. Ednar scratched the back of his neck, or would have, if his chain mail armor hadn't blocked him.
"Oops." he said lamely and fumbled for his keys.
"Truly this foul Knight hath many other doings of evil done," accused Ama. Sitra stood near the Knight protectively.
"Hey, my Ednar is a true Royal Knight!" Ama hastily apologized, not having intended to offend the princess. The jail cell door swung open. Metal flashed in the dim light.
"I'LL KILL YOU!!" screeched the dagger-wielding beggar fanatically, "I'LL KILL YOU ALL!!"
Part Four
A bad partnership. Battle in the dungeon. Enter the Expendables.
What a pair Itsur and Ruji made.
Or so thought one of the Knights standing guard near the royal chambers. The two were as different as black and white, from their manner of dress (Ruji's battle-worn tunic and Itsur's squire uniform, which was labeled 'SQUIRE' in black lettering--Expendable characters didn't always have much of a budget for costuming) down to the expressions on their faces. Ruji was scowling as he trudged through the corridor; the fact that Itsur was trotting lightly beside him only served to amplify his irritation.
"Well, Ruji-- looks like we'll be spending a long time together adventuring, hm? We'll be good friends, you and I. Talking and laughing all day… everyday… day after day after--"
"Silence!" roared Ruji, turning on the startled squire, "We are not friends, and it never shall be so!" Itsur whimpered while Ruji glowered at him.
"Listen, Itsur," Ruji said more calmly, "You don't like me and I don't like you--"
"But I like you!" Itsur insisted. Ruji's right eye began to twitch.
"Regardless," Ruji began again in measured tones, "This expedition of ours will be far more enjoyable if you speak only when absolutely necessary. Understand?" Itsur clearly did not, but he nodded anyway.
"Only--" Itsur spoke again, much to Ruji's chagrin, "This isn't an expedition… it's an adventure!" Ruji snapped (audibly) at this point, and lunged at Itsur.
"I'LL KILL YOU!!" screeched Ruji, "I'LL KILL YOU DEAD!!"
~ ~
"I'LL KILL YOU!!" screeched the beggar, "I'LL KILL YOU ALL!" Ama blinked.
"Truly thou must be a villain of much evil to repeat the same thing twice," he declared, "Very well then. I shall meet you in a duel of honor!" While Ama was busy issuing his challenge, Ednar had already met blades with the beggar., whose dagger was quickly sent flying through the air until it lodged itself in Gitaf's heart. The old man noiselessly slumped to the ground. Nobody noticed. Ednar now held his sword such that its tip was at the fallen beggar's neck.
"Kill us all, will you?" said Ednar darkly. The moment the pitiful man opened his mouth to respond, Ednar shoved the sword through the helpless beggar's neck. The head separated from the body, and blood showered the shocked spectators.
"How Knightly of you," Tyma remarked sarcastically.
"Ednar! That was so brave!" squealed the now blood-soaked princess. Ama was quivering with rage.
"Never have I seen such a despicable act--" the hero caught himself when he noticed the princess' glare, "...of honor!" he finished lamely.
"Lo, for the man was relieved of his head," Celb's musical voice rang out, "Lo, for now the helpless beggar lay dead…"
"Celb!" Ama barked, "Now is not the time for poetry!"
"Lo, for our heroic Knight," Celb continued, ignoring the big oaf, "Who killed a helpless beggar in the dead of night." Celb's poem concluded to the roaring applause of one hand clapping. After a brief argument with Tyma over whether 'Knight' rhymed with 'night', Ednar finally spoke up, coming to his own defense.
"Hey, give me a little credit," he sputtered, frustrated, "I did just save all your lives!" Sitra beamed with pride while the others fixed cold stares on the Knight.
"Well… you did kill Gitaf," Tyma pointed out, having finally discovered the old man's corpse. Though nobody had cared much for Gitaf, it did give them an excuse to continue to glare at Ednar. (There really are few things in life more enjoyable than a good accusing stare, especially in a group setting.) Sitra seemed sympathetic, but remained silent. The only sound that could be heard was the sound of blood dripping off the five surviving members of the scuffle. Suddenly, however, Gitaf started coughing up blood again. Everyone backed away swiftly.
"Wait!" Gitaf cried out, raising a frail hand in an attempt to reassure them, "I'm… I'm not quite dead yet! Someone yank thiz dagger out of my heart, will you?" The others recoiled in disgust, knowing that the old man was not long for this world.
"Lo, for he was not yet dead," declared Celb, even as he continued to put more distance between Gitaf and himself, "Lo, instead he bled, and bled, and… bled…" Celb looked like he was about to throw up. He wasn't the only one--Ama had turned an interesting shade of green. Even Sitra, who still couldn't help but find the huddled mass cute, was repelled by the spectacle. There was just something unappealing about seeing a crazy old man with a dagger in his chest coughing up blood.
"It seems that he, the fated, should be left to die in peace," announced Ama.
"He's a goner anyway," Tyma reassured herself as the old man continued his pathetic attempts to shuffle along behind them.
"I… I think I am getting better," Gitaf tried once more to reassure them.
"RUN!!!" Ednar gave the command which sent the five of them sprinting through the dungeon. Gitaf's pleas soon became distant, and then faded into nothingness. Still they continued running, until before they realized it, they were back in the castle proper.
~ ~
The king of Ahntarak was just sitting down to a fine meal when he heard a great commotion outside. His Knights immediately went to investigate, but when he heard Ruji's voice screeching,
"I'LL KILL YOU!! I'LL KILL YOU DEAD!!" he knew something was terribly wrong. And it was for that reason that he left his meal, hungry as he was, to see for himself what all the commotion was about. What he saw was a spectacle that might have appeared humorous to anyone but him. Ruji's hands were around Itsur's neck, and he was repeatedly slamming Itsur's head into the wall. Several Knights already lay fallen nearby, and the king watched as Ruji quickly dispatched the others before resuming his attempt on Itsur's life. The disgusted King forcefully separated the two of them--this time Ruji didn't dare fight back. He stood there, breathing heavily, while Itsur slumped to the ground. The King angrily admonished Ruji for his unacceptable behavior, who defiantly blamed the whole incident on Itsur. The King was on the verge of having the both of them executed, his anger at being interrupted from his meal for such stupidity having become that great.
It was at this moment that five blood-soaked individuals stampeded through the hall, knocking over the king and Ruji, and generally making a mess of the castle.
~ ~
It was dawn.
The sun's rays touched the tips of the castle, and then proceeded to cascade down the walls as the sun made its presence known to each level of the castle of Ahntarak in turn. The sun's accusing light shone through a window in an upper level of the castle, illuminating the six individuals who now stood before the king.
"The events of yesterday were inexcusable," began the King, his glare sweeping across the six like a fox choosing its prey, "I am not going to ask why the four of you were covered in blood…" he looked at Ednar, Tyma, Celb, and Ama, "Or what you were doing with my daughter…" he now fixed his gaze on Ednar, who sputtered helplessly, "But I have decided that the best course of action would not be to have you executed…" this was met with a collective sigh of relief, "But to have you join Ruji and Itsur on an important quest. You redeem yourselves by completing the quest successfully. If you fail, I will have you shot." Ruji blinked.
"Shot, sire?"
"Executed," the king corrected himself, "I don't know what made me say that…" The details of the quest were quickly imparted to the newcomers--
"We have to find a mysterious relic." and they were promptly thrown out of the castle. Ruji led Ednar, Ama, Tyma, Celb, and Itsur across the drawbridge, and the six of them walked proudly through the town. Despite the heroic feeling they had about them, not a single villager paid the slightest bit of attention. The big news in the kingdom of Ahntarak was the coming war; not some silly quest for a relic. And, by all rights, this story probably should have been about that war. But alas, it is not. This is a story about the other guys; the guys who get killed unnoticed while the main plotline continues unimpeded. The guys who embark on their journey knowing that they're mere puppets in a much larger game. The guys who understand that nobody will sing hymns praising them; no author will immortalize them with words. They are the pawns in the worldwide game of Chess--except, perhaps, that they are far more useless than pawns.
The six companions departed the Kingdom of Ahntarak, and entered the wilderness beyond, having no clue where they were going or exactly why.
Meanwhile, Gitaf continued to shuffle along pathetically. He had just arrived at the end of the drawbridge.
"Damned heroez," he muttered, "Leavin' me behind ta die. Well, I'll be showin' them a thing or two!"
Princess Sitra expertly gripped her braided sheets and swung out her window to the ground below. Landing lightly on her feet, she dusted herself off and surveyed her surroundings.
"I'm on the east side of the castle," she noted, "I'll need to get to the north side and follow the others' tracks--it shouldn't take long to catch them!" Smiling to herself, she set out.
"Sire, what if they are all killed?" asked one of the king's Knight's worriedly, soon after they departed. The king chuckled.
"It matters little. They're expendable." The two of them laughed heartily. Important relic, indeed.
The Adventure finally begins--tune in next week!
Part Five: May 25, 2001
Current Character Roster
The Expendables © 2001 ChronoWeb Publishing
Please do not reprint without permission.
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