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The Heartwood
The Arch Bridge
Attaday, the Eighth Day of Yrick

Pietro, Clever Rat and a collection of Rats

Pietro watched as the others took to their boats. This deep into the woods, even with the clear sky above the open lake, darkness fell very fast. If not for the single small moon in the sky it would have been pitch black, unable to see even one’s hand before their face.

Very quickly, however, they disappeared into the darkness. First the sound of their passage became unheard. The Forest Folk must have used the lake before and were skilled in moving the boats with little noise.

But then again, each group had some Rats with them, which could explain things.

His path, with his little group, lead down stone bridge, headed northwards towards the keep gate proper. All went well until they got about halfway across. Passing over the paved roadway there was an audible click, like a lever being thrown. A moment later aloud and long bawooom echoed across the waters, like a warning horn, a call to alarm and arms. It tolled a single note and then all was quiet again.

On the other hand they were supposed to be the diversion. It was not like they were attempting to be quiet.

Clever just shrugged his shoulders.

“We’ve never gone straight up over the bridge before.”

It was quiet again. And then it was too quiet.

Which of course was a bad sign.

It was broken by one of the Forest Folk speaking up. It was Hard-To-Surprise. He had been following last.

“We are not allll …”

The buck turned, looking behind, back along the way they had come, and that was when the world was turned to chaos.

The first thing that happened was Hard-To-Surprise moved, but it was an unnatural movement, dragged to the side and slammed against the bridge’s stone parapet edge. It was involuntary, of course, as if a black shadow had snared him waist high, to toss him like some ruff or slink might play with their prey.

Before Hard-To-Surprise was halfway through his flight the grinding was heard. It was loud as thunder, sudden and sharp as the bridge deck betrayed them. No, it did not fall, it rose, pivoting like a fort’s drawbridge, slamming upwards in a single swift motion, so fast that the Mouse caught at the break didn’t even have time to dash away before he vanished into the Dwarven mechanisms, caught and then mangled and then crushed in a sudden spray of blood and sinew. It was perfectly planned, not only splitting the group in two but dividing them with a long space of open water. One end, to the south, was simply the termination of the bridge. The north side had the added benefit of the equally long section of bridge now rising as a barricade.
Those who had been drawbridge section were tossed. Some into the lake, some further ahead.

On one hand, Pietro no longer had to worry for an attack from behind. His problem were directly ahead, emphasized by the sudden dots of lamps ahead. They were little circles of light, coming on one at a time, upon the keep’s walls.

On the other hand, Lady Yurisdotter was on the other side of the drawbridge.

There was no time to worry for that, however.

A splash of light appeared before him, at the far end of the bridge. It was a square if white capped by a semicircular arch. The bottom half of the square flickered a bit until the light went out.

The reason soon became obvious. The gate had opened, the gate had closed, and they were being met. In some ways this was exactly what they had wanted. In the night, ahead of them shapes moved. As they got closer they resolved into not just a patrol but a hunting party.

In the lead were beasts, low and feral. They were the size of a small horse in mass and volume but low to the ground. They were long, furred in grays and blacks, like a merebeast that had grown far too large. They were definitely weasel-like, but different, like a mere beast with too many legs, a long snout and a narrow muzzle with jaws wide enough to swallow a strong man’s leg. There were four of them and four men followed them.

No. Four Dwarves.

They were half his height but sturdily built. They didn’t clank but they did not move silently. The sound they made was the dangerous and distinct shuffle of metal over metal, the smooth movement of plate. Of course their faces could not be seen, just the visors of their dark black helmets.

There were three of them, one for each of the Weasels.

The last, however, was taller. He moved with a firm step. Yes, his armor too faded into the night, black against black.

For a moment, for just a moment all was completely still. It was a moment of silence between predator and prey. The clouds moved and silver moonlight washed across the bridge.

Then the tall man raised his hand.

“Hold.”

He took off his helm.

“My word.”

It must have been the moonlight. But this stranger’s face was gaunt, it looked like it was carven from stone, older than time itself. It had a sheen, a strange sheen, like lacquer.

“You wear the red and gold.”

The tall warrior focused his gaze on Pietro.

“So do I”

And so he did. The traditional mantling of Pietro’s church.

“Before you stands his Imperial Highness, Lord Faast Bankorpool, Prince of the Archipelago and Our Colonies, Viceroy, Regent of Forest and Keep, Knight-Paladin in Service to Our Lord Rames the Protector and by Peerage, Right of Arms, Imperial Rank and Church Order I command you to stand down …

“… and return my property to me.”

Pietro


He was worried about the others, but all he could do was his own part. Pietro pulled his small battleaxe from its sheath and checked his grip on the small shield held in his left hand.

The squire marched forward boldly or at least he hoped it looked to be a bold advance. He felt fear, of course. Only a fool never felt fear but, as his trainers back in Talantal had said, courage lies in advancing despite your fear.

"For Talantal, the Forest Folk and in the name of Lord Rames, my friends," he said to the Forest Folk around him, "let us fulfill our destiny."

Pietro heard something happening behind him but, before he could turn to check his rear, the three weasel or wolverine-like creatures approached from his front, each accompanied by a dwarf. One taller armored humanoid followed the three short ones.

The Squire of Lord Rames froze in place when he saw the gaunt features of the royal warrior facing him and his eyes widened when the man claimed to be Lord Faast Bankorpool. Pietro's mind raced... a myriad of diverse and contradictory thoughts ricocheted around his consciousness.

He knew of Lord Faast, of course. What member of the nobility did not, but the man had disappeared full three generations back - rumors saying he'd disappeared into the Dirkwood with his dwarven companions.

With his dwarven companions...

"I do indeed wear the red and gold, Your Highness," Pietro said with a slight tremble to his voice, "and I am dedicated to the service of Lord Rames."

He pointed his battleaxe toward the Bankerpool nobleman who should have been dead long ago. Something was not natural here.

"I, however, have taken an oath to our Lord Rames and I am not sure whether my oath and your demands are... compatible."

"To what property do you refer?"

Pietro fully expected the Lord to say the Forest Folk were his property.

Pietro also fully expected to die... and soon.

The Heartwood
The Arch Bridge
Attaday, the Eighth Day of Yrick

Pietro, Clever Rat and a collection of Rats

“Impudent whelp!”

Lord Faaast Bankprpool stood up straighter, his armor shimmering beneath the moonlight, like looking at a still black lake. His hand too went to his weapon, but as opposed to having them drawn, like Pietro, he left his gauntleted hand rest upon the hilt of his sword, still in its scabbard.

“Who was lax in your teachings?”

Indeed, The Knight-Paladin had a point. He had more than a little point. First, if he was indeed a Bankorpool, that made him Imperial. And Imperials ranked above Nobles, so when they spoke, their word could be considered law. Growing up in Talantal, under the tutelage of the Keep’s Nobility, this was an acknowledged contradiction – while everyone lamented the fact that there had not been an Imperial presence this side Trundle-On-The-Hill in generations, the fact that the Nobility could thus act upon their own will without check was something no mainland Noble wished to give up.

It was why the rumors of the recent Midsummer’s Council rippled through the upper cases like lightning, from the Black Mountains to the sea.

Not only that, but a Knight’s word most certainly was a higher power that a Squire. This would be especially true if the Knight in question was the ranking knight of the Church. Which, if this was indeed Lord Faast Bankorpool, made him far, far older than any other servant of Lord Rames the Protector upon the Mainlands.

His question was an appropriate one for one of his rank. It was a grim reminder that the world was balanced not between right and wrong, good and evil, but Law and Chaos. Where Pietro stood in that complex, contradictory balance, only Pietro could say.

Faast’s free hand swept out in an arc, indicating not those before him and in his service; the Dwarves and their Weasels. Snapping their teeth and growling, the dangerous looking beasts did not appear to like being held at bay.

He was obviously indicating Clever Rat and his kind. The Forest Folk looked scared. It was one thing to sneak into the Keep for a clandestine rescue. It was quite another coming face to face with their Masters.

“My property. Those lost things that dog your heels. They are our creations, not yours. They are ours as the armor I wear or the kitchen pot for simmering stew.

“Are you returning our lost goods? Then well met. Come into the Keep and tell us of the news beyond the edge of this accursed Wood.

“Or …”

And his words become darker.

“Are you not worthy of those robes, not following Our Lord but instead, holding that black and pagan Khol in secret depths of your heart? If so, you are but a common thief and will be dealt with as such.”

Pietro


He swallowed once, twice, and took a couple of deep breaths as he listened to Lord Faast's questions and demands. Finally he came to a decision, not one he necessarily liked but one he felt was unavoidable.

"I have been trained well, My Lord, first at Talantal and then later by various different peoples in all my travels."

Pietro gestured with his small, but surprisingly heavy, battleaxe toward the Forest Folk that accompanied him.

"I have learned also from these new found friends of mine, learned enough to realize and believe that they are no one's property, not even yours, My Lord."

The squire of Lord Rames swallowed his fear and stood resolute with determination. Perhaps he would die, almost certainly he thought he would die, but it was in a worthy attempt to do good, to create a new order which would extend to all intelligent creatures.

They might have been created by the Lord Bankerpool and his dwarven denizens of the Dirkwood, but now they had souls... they should be treated as such.

"You have contributed, My Lord Faast, to chaos by the evil which you have perpetuated among these friends of mine. I intend to put an end to that, regardless of the cost."

The Heartwood
The Arch Bridge
Attaday, the Eighth Day of Yrick

Pietro, Clever Rat and a collection of Rats

“You dare accuse me of being Chaos touched?”

The long black blade of the Imperial Prince cleared its scabbard in a single smooth draw. He brought the sable tip up until it was level to with Pietro’s gaze.

“You who have stolen goods that are mine by Law and property? You, who would deny their ordered place in the world, their position, their utility, the very reason they were created. Would you also deny a hinge its proper place upon a door? We live in a world of Law, youngling, you should have been taught to follow them.

“So do not talk to me of Chaos.

“The Law makes the Right.”

Those words were more than a sharp rebuke. They summoned forth not red but gold flames that licked up and down the edges of his sword.
“With Lord Rames by my side, come hot from hell, shall in these confines with my Monarch's voice, I command havoc! Let slip the weasels of war …”

At that command came four heavy metallic snaps, catches being released. Like a hungry wave the four weasels charged forward, rapidly closing the distance to Pietro. They wore collars, these weasels; big thick black leather collars studded with long darksteel spikes. They would be the first to hit his now smaller cadre. When the bridge trap sprung he was left with Clever Rat and his four kin and two deer at the back.

And right behind him was the Prince and his three squires.

“Stop the thief. Return our goods.”

The Squire knew he only had a few heartbeats, perhaps time for one command, before he’d be in combat.

Pietro


He was sure his Forest Folk companions, the Rats, were afraid. Pietro was afraid himself.

But he had given his oath and he would die in the effort to keep his word.

"My friend Rats!" he shouted.

"Throw the weasels back and from the bridge and then help me with the dwarves so I can deal with this ancient perversion of the Law and of Lord Rames!"

The squire readied his axe to use against the first of Lord Faast's foes which approached him.

The Heartwood
The Arch Bridge
Attaday, the Eighth Day of Yrick

Pietro, Clever Rat and a collection of Rats

The first Weasel over the edge of the bridge was a white one. It flailed, twisted, turned and splashed into the black lake; after a moment’s silence there was renewed splashing as the tossed Weasel made its way towards shore.

Moving things, it seems, was a Rat specialty.

The problem was the Knight that bore down upon him. The combat remind him of Talantal, when he was training, except this time he wouldn’t walk away with a scolding but a matter of life and death. A tall strong Knight standing over a young squire.

The Knight’s weapon was longer, had a reach advantage, and thus it took all of Pietro’s skill to make sure his sturdy shield took the brunt of the blow. Oh the Prince may be old, but he certainly wasn’t weak. The golden flame took a chunk out of his shield and he felt the blow weaken his arm.

But then the true problem raised its terrible hand. The Prince didn’t even bother blocking Pietro’s counterstrike. He just let it hit, strong and sure, across his middle.

The blow struck true.

The Imperial armor – darksteel – simply took the blow’s entire strength.

He was going to die.

If he let this be a straight up fight, one on one and did nothing new, nothing different, nothing unexpected, if it became a simple exchange of blows between the two of them the combat was already lost.

He was going to die.

He had to fight with honor.

But that didn’t exactly mean fair. Truth? Darksteel armor against a steel blade, it might be honorable, but it certainly wasn’t fair either.

Pietro


Well, he knew from the ancient Lord Faast's appearance that he was surely going to die and this only reinforced his conclusion.

However, it was not necessary for him to live. He was just here to provide a distraction - as good a one as possible for as long as possible.

Perhaps, though, if he could distract the Lord Bankerpool himself?

"You might have created the Forest Folk or had them created at your behest, Lord Faast, but now they - whether they ever were - are no longer yours. The Lady of Attera has instilled in them souls. Now you hold them no longer as possessions, if possessions they ever were - but as slaves."

He wondered just how far away Bekkah was, but he could not turn to look.

"Holding people with souls has nothing to do with possessions. It is slavery!"

"How does that leave you on the side of Law? You are now an agent of Chaos."

Pietro rolled his eyes briefly upward.

"Oh, Lord Rames, come to my side in opposing this agent of evil."

The squire activated the magicks of Blaze and Truesword.

The Heartwood
The Arch Bridge
Attaday, the Eighth Day of Yrick

Pietro, Clever Rat and a collection of Rats

Oh the distraction worked …

Kind of …

Maybe …

But certainly not the way in which Pietro intended.

The plight of the Forest Folk, their acquisition of souls did not seem to faze the tall, deadly prince. Indeed his strike seemed even stronger as that black sword took another bite out of his shield, bending its metal reinforcement and sending splinters flying everywhere. The blow was so strong it sent shocks of pain through him, from arm to shoulder – a couple more similar hits and he feared he’d no longer be able to hold his shield.

“Weak willed whelp! You sound like a woman! So they are now slaves.

“They are still mine!”

And that was a modicum of truth. It was even a thing in Talantal – what was it? Yes. The un-human girl Mouse that Dominic Korie seemed so attracted to. Which was especially unseemly because he was supposed to be married, after all. He remembered now what Miss Emerald Mouse called him and why she was able to walk the streets and halls of Talantal without fear.

Her Owner.

Of course she could walk without fear. No one would dare hurt a Korie slave.

It might not be Good, but it was certainly Lawful.

Prince Faast Bankorpool, however, did step back. It was a sure and easy break in the combat.

“A Lady of Attera you say?”

He signaled to the Squires that stood with him, waving them forward. He called to the gates, where he proved that yes, he was a true Knight. Because Knights were often accompanied buy a certain type of entourage.

“Take him alive.”

Knights tended to come with Squires.

“He will tell us where this Lady is. She must be near, to have done such a silly thing.”

From the gates three men in red and gold strode forward, each step faster, until they were charging. Prince Faast stepped aside, obviously to let them by. In a count of ten they would be upon Pietro. Even if they were half as skilled as their Knight he would still be in trouble; three against one, while Lawful – he was, after all, assaulting their Keep – it was certainly not Fair. The Rats, they were dealing with the Dwarves. The Dwarves seemed to be a bit harder to toss from the bridge; but they, in turn, did not seem to be making much progress forward.

“I shall make her my wife.”

Pietro


"You do not deserve possessions," Pietro shouted, "and you definitely shall not possess the Lady of Attera."

"Fight, my friends," he called out to his Forest Folk companions.

"Fight for your freedom from tyranny!"

Pietro quickly gauged the strength, power and potential agility of the squires charging him. They looked stronger, perhaps stronger than he was, but he thought he might just have an edge in agility against them.

Lifting his battleaxe, Pietro charged the squires but, when he neared them, instead of attacking directly, he jumped as high as possible, aiming for a point between two of the warriors and hoping to surprise them by his tactic and go over them. He planned on landing with a roll, a tumble, beyond the squires and closer to Lord Faast.

The Heartwood
The Arch Bridge
Attaday, the Eighth Day of Yrick

Pietro, Clever Rat and a collection of Rats

Two steps.

Aye, Pietro’s attempt to jump past those he faced was successful. His leap did move him past the Prince’s men. Indeed, the Imperial Prince may have been surprised. But again, it was not the manner of surprise that Pietro expected.

Two steps closer was as far as he got before the first blow struck, strong and hard and solid. It slammed him forward, making his back arch. The second blow took out his legs and he found himself face first on the stone bridge roadway.

On one hand that was not as bad as it seemed. One’s armor was not something that was so heavy and clunky it would trap someone like a tortoise. What pinned him was the weight on his back – probably one of the Prince’s men, and probably his knee.

And when he went down, he could only hear the fight behind him turn falter. The Forest Folk, their morale took a deadly blow when they saw him fall.

He was able to watch the Prince stride forward, until all he could see was the lord’s black metal boots.

“Now …”

He spoke in commanding tones.

“Your Prince commands. Tell me of this Lady of Attera, about this woman who will marry me.”

He was alive at least. But only because the Squares, rightfully so, had obeyed their Knight and had not killed him outright. And he knew he was alive, because if he wasn’t he would not be remembering the harsh words of the Talantal Knight who had trained him; that the melee was not as bards or minstrels sing. One does not leap, twirl and spin, because that only leads to a very dangerous mistake.

One never, ever, offered one’s back to their opponent.

Pietro


It did not work... his tactical choice was ill advised, he supposed, at best, but he felt that his adversary - his main adversary - was Lord Faast and he was concentrating solely on him.

Pietro triggered his ability to heal himself.

"You will never marry her," he growled. "She would never marry one who would deal in such evil acts."

Pietro prayed to Lord Rames to support him against the evil agent of chaos he felt Lord Faast had become.

"Come to my support, my friends," he called out to the rats as he tried to get to his feet to continue his assault.

"Clever Rat... warn Bekkah!"

The Heartwood
The Arch Bridge
Attaday, the Eighth Day of Yrick

Pietro, Clever Rat and a collection of Rats

The first sign that Pietro was in extreme trouble was when his sword’s flame sputtered and went out. It was almost like, it was exactly like, when he was first learning his Church’s magic and he hadn’t quite gotten the hang of it. His mentor’s words could not help but echo in his head.

“What? Is there something wrong with your belief?”

That brought the realization.

He saw Prince Faast Bankorpool as an evil agent of Chaos. That was not only wrong, it was a falsehood and a slanderous lie.

A Knight must be many things and some of them, like being kind and generous, are traditionally considered virtues. But in the real world a bad man may still reach down and pet a ruff and otherwise express an understanding of kindness. Indeed, Prince Faast had given Pietro a chance to avoid this fight. A brutal and iron-willed Knight can still be generous and ensure that his Squires, Household and serfs are well maintained.

When brought before the Justice’s of Hastur, one was quickly reminded that good and evil were simply the expressions of one nature. What mattered in this World, however, was neither good nor evil.

But Law and Order against Chaos.

Whatever he may say could not change the fact that of all things in the Heartwood, this Knight was not an agent of chaos. Prince Faast Bankorpool was an evil agent of Law.

And that lead to the Squire’s second problem.

While the weight on his back did not waver and kept him pinned to the stone deck, something had just disturbed the conflict, drawing the fight to a momentary pause.




[[OOC Note: Please continue this in the HWD: Lady Yuridotter’s Quest: The Rescue – Bekkah thread]]