Old Bones and Older Oaths

[Terrabrand]

(Preface: I plan to try to write a thousand words a day of this as writing practice for an indeterminate period. I have no plans in advance, no overview, and the barest ideas of the setting as a whole. Expect mistakes and inconsistency. The point is to try to make writing easier through practice without ruining my existing projects.)​

Chapter 1: War and an old tomb

My name is Jacob, and I was a humble hunter in a small village of no consequence. Or so I thought. I am now running for my life from trolls, going the one place I was always told never to go to because the Elder had said to do so right before the trolls had broken through the palisade and... Well, let's just say trolls were feared less for their prodigious strength and more for their carnivorous tendencies. "Find the Ancient in the tomb! The Death Knight is our last hope!" the geezer had said, before he bid me to run.

And if this mythical knight is real, maybe the poor old man will even turn out to be right. The armies of the Red Horde invading my homeland certainly seemed to be more than the Night Guards could handle, given that a decade ago the village had been considered to be in the heart of the Coalition territories, and yet today the invasion reached my little home village.

So I ran through familiar woods, over familiar creeks and past familiar trees, until at last I reach the marker stones. The arbitrary line the Elder and all the older hunters and woodsmen and ma and pa had all said to never go past. I hesitated, thinking beyond this line is the dead woods. The warnings spooked me as a kid, the silence once I grew up. And still silent... and then I heard it. The bestial, terrifying howling of the trolls, and the cracking of fallen branches and rustling of leaves in the distance. Behind me, back the way I came. The heavy tread of trolls- two of them. Death by ancient angry ghosts it is. At least it's not being eaten by trolls is my thought as I hurry past the marker stones. Following an oddly clear path, I quickly find an ancient, moss covered stone tomb. I ain't literate, read ain't exactly what a hunter out in a small village needs, but I do recognize that the runes on the tomb door are written words, and the older kind of flowing script used in old temples and the like. Not the modern language.

Ancient tomb, ancient words. I suppose that makes sense. I hurry to the doors praying the old man was right that salvation awaits inside, and brace myself to heave the stone open. It swings out and away easily, instead. Spooky. Not as spooky as the trolls howling, probably now at the boundary to the dead woods. So I hurry inside.

Going from the light of the moon to the light of... glowing balls of I don't even know. Will o' the wisps as the bards would say, I guess. A strange purple. Anyways, the change in lighting conditions is disorienting. But it doesn't take long to notice the iron throne, sitting in the middle of the room, nor it's occupant. Black full plate armor, a great big sword of bone in it's lap, and a skull for a head. Of course, I half expected something like that. Old stories of the mythical death knights were everywhere. Myth and legend, larger than life heroes who fought to protect the kingdoms and empires that preceded the Coalition, carving bloody swathes through any foe and so committed to their oaths they fought through any injuries, any pain, even beyond death. Historians agreed that there were orders of knights in almost every one of the old nations, back a few centuries, and the tombs, you could find 'em about anywhere he'd been, or at least stories of where not to go because you don't disturb a Death Knight's rest, they say.

And yet here I was. Before I could think better of being in a tomb of death where the occupant could take offense, get up, and kill me for being there, of course, the doors were slammed off their hinges and I dived for cover. Behind the throne, because the tomb was pretty lacking in anything else to hide behind, cramped though it was. Then the deep, guttural voice of a troll boomed forth. "Come out, little manflesh! We can smell you. Come out, and we'll kill you before we eat you."

gee, what a great offer I think as I palm my knife and prepare to at least make them regret coming after me. The tomb lit only by the light of the moon outside, I resign myself to a miserable, pointless death.

Then the second troll speaks, sounding spooked. "Cragg, we shouldn't be here. It's a Reaper house. You don't disturb Reapers!" reapers? I wonder to myself.

The first responds with the tone of one talking to a grown man treating childrens cautionary stories as real. "Bluddge, Reapers aren't real. If they were, don't you think we woulda heard about them in the past decade fighting the softlings?" aaand there's the Red Army disdain for humans and the other species in the Coalition. We're soft and weak and so don't deserve to live. All the bard's tales talk about it. Here I assumed it was a baseless stereotype.

Then I realize that I've been sitting in a moonlit tomb for the past couple minutes. So what happened to the will o' wisps? Then a rasping sound booms forth from the middle of the tomb. Laughter, I realize after a moment. "Reaper? Been eight hundred and two years since I've been called that." I stare as the armored figure on the throne stands, easily hefting his sword in one hand and placing a black, horned helm upon his head. "Those who disturb the earned rest of a Death Knight for frivolous reasons are in mortal peril. Those who disrespect one are doomed to die."

One of the trolls lunges for the knight shouting about 'softling trickery!', crossing the distance in a flash and swinging a crude axe with both arms bulging with muscle. In one smooth upward swing he is cleaved in two by the Death Knight. The other screams in fright.

"Bluddge, was it? Inform your masters, whoever they are, that Justice Earthrend remembers the oaths, and stands in defense of the Realm as any true Knight would. You get to live for trying to respect my grave. Go." The troll hesitates. The knight hefts the sword higher. "Only chance. Go and tell your masters, now" The knight says firmly.

The troll flees, gibbering on the way out. Then the menacing Knight turns slowly to face me. "Why have you disturbed my slumber? Don't think I didn't notice you come in first."

Maybe it was a mistake coming here after all, I think, as I start to explain...

 

[Dromeosaur]

An interesting concept. It is rare to see the ancient undead as a reasonable creature instead of a murder machine.

 

[Terrabrand]

An interesting concept. It is rare to see the ancient undead as a reasonable creature instead of a murder machine.

Click to shrink...

I like exploring under explored spaces. So that probably won't be the only unusual detail going forward.

 

[Alturangga]

Watched. Sounds like a promising start.

 

[Terrabrand]

Chapter 2: I Swore.

I couldn't help my eyes darting around as I tried to explain, as I didn't rightly figure I'd actually need to explain. Figured I'd be dead or the myth would remain myth. "Er, well, you see, Sir Knight, the village Elder said to go to the tomb, that you are our only hope, uh, right before the trolls caught him. See, the Red Horde is invading Coalition lands-"

The Death Knight raises a free hand and I drop dead silent staring warily. "Then there is no time. If the lands I swore to defend are under attack, then the people need the protection I can offer. Lead me back to your village."

I hesitate. "Are... Are you sure? Don't you need, like, an army? I saw the sea of torches, the camps- this is a serious invasion force. Gotta be hundreds-"

The Death Knight cuts me off. "All the more reason to start sooner. I swore an oath. Not empty words or hollow promises. Lead. The. Way."

I gulp and slink past the ancient figure out the front of the tomb and lead them towards the village. They clearly don't know the trails and aren't quite as swift a tread as I in the woods, but they also seem to have better night vision than I'd expect. In the end, it's not long before we arrive at the village. "Well. Here we are, Sir Knight." I say heavily as the palisades of my home come into view. "But what can you do against an army?"

The Death Knight spares me a glance. "That depends much on the army, now doesn't it. I suggest you see about aiding any of your fellows while I draw the enemies attention."

Then they plant their sword into the ground and a plume of purple fire erupts skyward. It seems to almost form a banner of fire, three, maybe four times as high as the Knight is tall. It casts a light greater than any torch, and the warcries that erupt from the village make it clear this did not exactly go unnoticed.

I slink into the shadows as the Death Knight hefts their sword once more and confidently marches towards the shattered gates. A half dozen orcs, brutes standing seven or even eight feet tall charge through the gate in well made, but light leather armor, and wearing spiked helmets. The symbol of the Red Horde, a blood red fist, is visible on assorted places- the chest for one, a shoulderpad for another, the helm for a third. Motley, perhaps, but I knew the Red Horde prized individuality highly. Fitting, then, that this group had one orc with a spear, another wielding an axe, a third holding, surprisingly, a light fencing blade- a rapier, I thought- yet another had some manner of longer axe like weapon- a halberd, I think it was called- and whatever the remaining two were wielding I could not see from here. They charged to meet the Death Knight, with the one wielding an axe leading.

I was not entirely surprised when he was fluidly cut in half, his weapon's haft carved in two, as well, as the Knight marched relentlessly forward. More surprising was the others not balking at the sight, shouting out battle cries as they came. The orc with a rapier struck forward in a surprisingly graceful move as his comrade's body fell away, only to be backhanded off his feet several feet away. As he bonelessly collapsed to his feet the Death Knight spun and brought their own sword around in a smooth motion, this time chopping through the spear-orc from the side, and as another orc struck from behind with twin daggers, having slipped there in the chaos, well. Their blades skidded off the armor uselessly. The Knight continued their motion and brought the sword through them as well, then caught the descending halberd of their fifth foe, ripped it from their hand, and threw it like a javelin at the remainder.

A headbutt put down the last of their immediate foes, the one formerly wielding a halberd, and then they stormed through the gates. "I swore an oath, and these lands remain my duty to protect! Come, all ye who bloody my flock, and face your death!" their voice boomed forth.

I hesitated, watching the bodies. With no movement evident, I crept forward wary. A quick check of the bodies showed they were, indeed, all dead. From there, my caution only increased as I crept up to the gate. The bodies lying in the streets were not a surprise- not that there were bodies, I mean. The fact that they were mostly orcs, a few trolls, and a handful of... goblins, yes, that's what those were, that, that was a surprise. Following the... unexpected carnage, I ducked into a few houses torn open- no survivors- and ignored the ones still locked up tight. If there was anyone in them, they didn't need immediate assistance. Eventually, I came to the southern town gate, from which direction the invaders had first come. From beyond I heard Horde warhorns, and rather a lot of feet marching. A thunderous march... and yet lessening. The Death Knight came back through the gate after a few minutes, and then all was silent.

Then the Death Knight caught sight of me. "Ah, you again. A rabble like that... unless your modern armies are even more a pale shadow of my days than I expect, that could hardly be the spearhead of an invasion. Scavenger group, perhaps. Come now, let us take stock of the damage to your village- you'd know better than I, and the survivors will recognize you."

I sighed, but nodded agreement. Truth be told, I was also somewhat in awe- he had apparently routed them singlehandedly, those he hadn't killed anyways. But the village needed my help now. After, I could sleep, and then... Well, the future would wait for tomorrow, I hoped.

I just hope we can deal with the corpses adequately to prevent the village from falling to disease...

 

[Terrabrand]

Chapter 3: Squire

The population of the village was surprisingly undepleted, a fact that would be more of a relief to me if I was particularly close to anyone alive in the village before the attack. Truth be told, I lived on momentum more than anything else. Still, I was glad that there was not too much to grieve over, as while there was none I'd really call friends I also held no animosity for anyone in the village. They were good people. I just was a bit of a loner, I supposed.

The issue of disease control was rather simplified compared to my expectations. While I was going around the village looking for survivors and explaining things best I could, the Death Knight hauled the bodies to a location outside the walls. After I had spoken to everyone (or confirmed their deaths) we gathered nearby and watched as the Death Knight held out a hand, glowing with an unearthly green light, and then will o' wisps rose from the ground and flew into the piled bodies, igniting the pile into a massive, purple bonfire. The corpses burned, but no scent reached us. The Death Knight turned to face us villagers and said "Rest. I will guard you through the night. We can speak on the morrow."

I was all too glad to comply. I noted that some of my fellows were not so inclined, but most returned to their homes. I slept fitfully, dreams filled with burning, cloaked figures and skulls. I also sleep late, I'm normally the sort to rise with the sun. So it is late morning I wander out to the center of the village to find the Death Knight discussing matters with some of the older villagers. "-and you say this 'Coalition' stretches from the misty mountains in the north to the elder woods in the south?" The Death Knight asks.

Gustaf, the old smith, responds "Aye, Dame Justice. And from the Black Sea in the east to the red sand desert in the west. Well, not as far as the elder woods in the past few years. The Red Horde has taken much of the southern lands." Then he spots me. "Ah, Jacob! Our good lady Death Knight here was waiting for you. Come, have a seat."

I approach and cautiously ask "Lady Death Knight? I thought..." I trail off, unsure how to complete the notion without giving offense.

The Death Knight nods- and I notice now that they aren't wearing their helm- before speaking "Yes, I heard you last night. You misjudged my gender, hardly surprising when most obvious signs have rotted away and my voice hardly sounds like anything alive. It was not worth spending the time to correct you when time was of the essence. " a pause, weighing their words. "Gustaf was bringing me up to date on the state of the world, correcting the inevitable gaps in my knowledge courtesy of my long slumber. He was also answering some questions I had about the village. You, Jacob, seemed able to keep a level head in a crisis, and to be blunt I shall need a guide and one to speak for me to those who might doubt the intent of one long dead such as myself. I offer you the position of my squire."

I sit, and scratch my head in confusion. "Er, ma'am, I'm not sure why you'd want me as a squire. Isn't that a knight's apprentice? I can guide you, sure, but I'm... just a hunter from a nameless village. I'm not exactly some mighty warrior in the making, if you don't mind me saying so."

The Knight grins, quite a sight on a skull, really, and says "I can teach many things, Jacob. How to fight, how to call upon the Styx, how to wage a war. I can teach etiquette, I can instill discipline, and so many more. But I cannot teach everything. I cannot teach courage, determination, loyalty, or humility. All of these traits are quite necessary for a proper Death Knight." She frowns, before continuing "Very necessary, indeed. And all were displayed by you in the short span of the night, in varying degrees. I could find highborn sons or daughters, talented and trained warriors... But you possess the traits I cannot make, and my tutelage can replace any natural talent for swordplay or other desirable traits. You did not seek me hoping to learn my secrets, you did not come knowing I would want a squire. The same cannot be said of those I would encounter if I went looking."

I sit, thinking that over. Then Gustaf cuts in. "I say take the offer, lad. You can make something great of yourself, and you clearly didn't mind the idea of leaving. It's a rare opportunity, and the village will survive without you. Yer a good lad, and I think you can trust the lady. That's what my gut says, anyways, and I trust my instincts."

I shrug. "Apologies, but I'll need to think it over. I'd need today to prepare for the journey anyways, ma'am."

The Death Knight nods. "Understandable. I'll be scouting the area, then. We can meet again on the morrow, when you have decided."

The rest of the day I spend packing and making assorted preparations for a long journey. Not an entirely unusual prospect for a hunter, all told. Still, there were some surprises. Gustaf intercepted me when I was heading home for the night, hoping to get to sleep early to be ready. "Here, lad. 'tis an heirloom." he said, holding out a sword in a scabbard. "You'll be needing a proper sword if you do decide to take her offer, and it's not much use to a simple village like this. Fine quality, even after all these years. And don't try to talk me out of it. Just take it."

I took it, surprised though I was. "Ah, thank you, Gustaf. I don't know what to say."

Gustaf shook his head. "Y'wanna thank me? Follow my advice from earlier, and give the Red Horde a black eye or ten from me. Now get to sleep, lad."

I drifted off quickly, my mind made up. Gustaf was right... As usual, if I'm honest. And if only to myself, I must admit that I'm curious about the ancient Death Knight herself. The legends held little in the way of concrete information. But that's for the next day, I suppose.

 

[Terrabrand]

Chapter 4: Departure

In the morning I awoke at dawn, feeling much more myself, and headed out. Most of the surviving villagers were already up, and waiting near the south gate. The Death Knight was there as well. "-orcs, trolls, goblins, and wyverns, yes. I shall seek to drive them from the region as I travel, but you would do well to try to call for aid from these 'Night Guard' you folks mentioned. "

Gustaf nodded, thoughtful. "I understand, and don't worry for this humble village. If you can break up the bigger groups, stragglers are no worse than the wildlife you see in the woods hereabout, I'd reckon. Not unless the Red Horde has stepped up training standards since my war days."

I walk forward and call out. "Hail! I'm surprised to see so many of you up so early."

Gustaf turns and waves in acknowledgement. "Actually, the others are up, as well. They are simply tending to matters such as patrolling and repairs of the walls."

The Death Knight herself also turns, and regards me. "I see you have brought much in the way of supplies. Have you made your decision?"

Murmurs break out among my fellow villagers, and as it goes in a small village, gossip has already spread precisely what I was asked. I nod. "Yes, ah, Dame Knight. I would be honored to accept your offer."

She nods, before donning her helmet. "Good, then. And call me Dame Earthrend, squire. Are you ready to depart?"

I nod, before saying "As you wish, Dame Earthrend. And I am ready at anytime."

Gustaf claps me on the back, saying "Congratulations, lad. And the sooner you both head out, the better. Word has it Marshal Garland and the twelfth division of the Nightguard were tied down by Red Horde forces, not destroyed."

I perk up at that. "Really? Isn't Marshal Garland the one who they say never misses a shot and usually deploys for night time operations?"

Gustaf nods. "Aye, and the twelfth by and large learned under him directly."

The Death Knight cuts in "So there might be an entire division with excellent archery skills used to operating at night out there?"

Gustaf responds jovially "Aye. There's networks of caves in the area they were last confirmed to be operating. The Red Horde would have trouble rooting them out without specialists."

Dame Earthrend nods. "Good. I can fight a battle alone, but I cannot hold a front alone. Some things require troops, not just determination. I wish this village the best of luck. Come, Squire Jacob. We have travel to do."

I nod, say my final farewells to the rest of the village, and lead the way out of the village. As we pass through the village gates, in poor condition but repaired to a degree since they were breached, I begin to speak. "Gustaf wasn't joking about the wildlife. There are animals in the local woods strong enough to tear about a squad of soldiers in a direct conflict, ambush predators, and more. The walls our village has were never meant for war, in the first place. We'll need to be careful about nests, territories, and other such things. Even with how you fought, to be embroiled in battle with the giant spiders or tree wolves would eat time and needlessly risk injury, or even death, if only mine. But tell me, Dame Earthrend, where shall I lead you? We aren't the only village out here, and there's the possibility of searching for Marshal Garland and his troops. But if you wish to simply march upon the Red Horde territories outright, I can lead you there, as well."

Dame Earthrend hums, considering. "Do you know anything of the invasion's objectives?"

I shake my head sadly. "The Red Horde has been hostile for as long as they have had contact with the Coalition, but why, precisely, a coordinated invasion began... Well, if anyone knows, perhaps the Marshals do, but I certainly don't."

Dame Earthrend nods. "Then we shall go to villages along the way, to aid them, to learn what they know, and for supplies, but foremost we head for this Marshal Garland."

I nod, and say "Nearest village is, oh, probably three days travel, for me. I hope you can keep up, or else it might be more."

And so does the journey begin.

(Author's note: Hit below my target, but eh. Been hitting above it and the point is more to write regularly than to necessarily write a thousand words per se.)