Theft in Bretonnia - aiheinen skaba - minun tarinani
Lähetetty: Ke 06.02.2008 12:50
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Sir Fareau Lancieur gazed at the beautiful sunset with a big grin on his face. Today was his. He had made a gigantic mass of people cheer for him like it was their last day alive. And Fareau was sure if it would have been, those fools wouldn't have minded dying. The autumn air was getting rather chilly for his taste. He sneezed and felt the branches over his head shiver and drop all of their leaves on him. He always wondered what made the leaves change their colour so drastically. They where like some kind of Tzeentch daemons. He could see all the colours of the rainbow in them. He sneezed again and cursed his luck. He could not become sick today. He had an important day ahead of him. Swiftly he grabbed his leather backpack and took his old cloak and put it on. He had gotten it as a prize for winning a joust several years ago. The cloak had magical Elven runes on it that kept the bearer dry and warm wherever he might be. He took a last glance at the sunset and started walking back to the camp. The wildlife around him could hear the knight sneezing several times more.
It was almost too dark to see when Fareau came back to the camp. He climbed into his tent and tried to sleep. But he couldn’t. He kept on thinking about tomorrows joust. It will be the biggest jousting tournament in Bretonnian history and he would win it. The grand prize was the hand of the duke’s daughter, Sasha, something that Fareau had dreamt for years. And victory was guaranteed to be his. He glanced at the lance glowing with blue light in the corner with an evil smirk on his face and fell asleep.
In his dreams he could see himself before he became what he was today. He was just a mere runt serving his master. His master was a great jouster and seemed to always point this out to Fareau in his drunken hazes. Those days seemed to darken every day. His life force was getting weaker by the minute. Fareau hated everything and everyone in his life and often fell asleep with tears in his eyes. Just when everything seemed to over helm his sanity a miracle happened. It was the 50th annual royal joust tournament and knights from every corner of Bretonnia seemed to emerge to participate in the anniversary event. This didn’t surprise Fareau but what did, was the very weird knight in shiny yellow armour. His lance glew in an aerie blue glaze, which seemed to compete with the skies them selves. The runes on his helmet hurt Fareau’s eyes. It was like watching at some kind of forbidden art. The stranger’s horse was the most beautiful mount he had ever seen. Its magnificent physique and shear size made the other horses look like assess by comparison. Endless wisdom beamed from its red eyes. Fareau was guessing that red eyes weren’t very common for horses but what did he know? He was just a slave.
As always, none of the knights were any of a challenge for his master. The mysterious yellow knight seemed to be just as skilled though. In only a few hours the two artisans were gazing at each other in the finale. Fareau’s master bellowed his war cry and raced his horse onto the challenger. The competitor let out an evil laugh that seemed to hurt the very soul and began his counter galloping. Fareau noticed how the stranger’s lance seemed to get darker and darker the closer it got to the enemy. Finally it was pitch black and his master was down impaled from his horse. His armour was pierced and he was bleeding. This was the dark side of jousting. The victorious stranger raced his steed to the king and demanded for his reward. The king asked him to wait in his tent for a few hours and asked his servants to take the knight’s gear and horse into the stables. It was at this moment, when Fareau knew it was time to change his fate. He sneaked in to the stables and stole the horse and the lance and rode away with what he believed was happiness.
Suddenly he saw the mysterious knight’s face cackling at him and he woke up. His eyes showed terror and he was covered with sweat. His servant walked in and glared at him with surprise. He looked worried and whispered “Sir, are you quite alright? It is time to get up and get ready!” and walked away, giving his master some privacy. Fareau didn’t know why but he felt a strange fear in his heart. His muscles seemed very stiff and he had lost his voice over the night. He cursed the gods for the cold weather that made him sick at the worst possible time. But it would not matter. His lance would do all the work for him. He allowed himself a smile on his face, dressed up and stepped outside.
He saw many of his competitors look at him with wonder and something that could be described as a summary of fear and respect. He had stunning gilded armour with skilfully made ornaments resembling dragons. He had his lance in his right hand and a ham in his left hand. His long blonde hair tangled in the wind partially covering his line of sight. He threw away the ham, wiped off his hand and put his weighty helmet on, leaving only his blue intimidating eyes showing. He glanced at the people around him. He would soon beat them all.
Suddenly he heard the duke announce that the ceremonies would be starting shortly. Fareau laughed quietly at the duke’s squeaking voice. It reminded him of a certain goblin he had seen as a slave. As soon as he would get his daughter he would kill that man and ride away with his new trophy wench. He looked at the stunning young girl standing next to the duke. Soon she would be his. Thinking this seemed to give him power to move the mountains themselves. He roared a challenged to the gods as his servant mounted him on his horse.
The joust began without any fuss, apart of the troubadour almost choking to death on his own spit, as he tried to inhale enough air to play his instrument. As the tournament began everyone realised that nothing could stop Fareau’s lance. It was like a fist of a deranged angry god. After his spectacular victory in the semi-finales Fareau gave a sly wink to the girl cheering for him in the audience. He could have her, or any other girl he wanted. This was the cycle of life. Some people are doomed to achieving nothing, some people get it all. He smiled as he placed himself in to the latter group.
Finally it was time for him to see his finale challenger. It was a man in his 40-s, who had clearly gotten this high by luck. Not waiting for any signal he rushed his horse on to his competitor greedily, not even noticing that his opponent wasn’t ready yet. The poor fellow never had time to even put up a proper defence as the lance pierced his heart. Fareau looked at his opponent’s mutilated body in bloodlust. His lance was changing colours randomly until it stopped. The lance felt very different now and Fareau felt it. It was now black, as was his mind. It all came, oh so very clear to him now. These people didn’t deserve him, for he was too great for them! As the duke with his daughter came to congratulate him he took a sword from his dead opponent, killed them both and rode away. Nobody really could understand what he yelled to them but they did hear a mind terrifying cackle.
Sir Fareau Lancieur gazed at the beautiful sunset with a big grin on his face. Today was his. He had made a gigantic mass of people cheer for him like it was their last day alive. And Fareau was sure if it would have been, those fools wouldn't have minded dying. The autumn air was getting rather chilly for his taste. He sneezed and felt the branches over his head shiver and drop all of their leaves on him. He always wondered what made the leaves change their colour so drastically. They where like some kind of Tzeentch daemons. He could see all the colours of the rainbow in them. He sneezed again and cursed his luck. He could not become sick today. He had an important day ahead of him. Swiftly he grabbed his leather backpack and took his old cloak and put it on. He had gotten it as a prize for winning a joust several years ago. The cloak had magical Elven runes on it that kept the bearer dry and warm wherever he might be. He took a last glance at the sunset and started walking back to the camp. The wildlife around him could hear the knight sneezing several times more.
It was almost too dark to see when Fareau came back to the camp. He climbed into his tent and tried to sleep. But he couldn’t. He kept on thinking about tomorrows joust. It will be the biggest jousting tournament in Bretonnian history and he would win it. The grand prize was the hand of the duke’s daughter, Sasha, something that Fareau had dreamt for years. And victory was guaranteed to be his. He glanced at the lance glowing with blue light in the corner with an evil smirk on his face and fell asleep.
In his dreams he could see himself before he became what he was today. He was just a mere runt serving his master. His master was a great jouster and seemed to always point this out to Fareau in his drunken hazes. Those days seemed to darken every day. His life force was getting weaker by the minute. Fareau hated everything and everyone in his life and often fell asleep with tears in his eyes. Just when everything seemed to over helm his sanity a miracle happened. It was the 50th annual royal joust tournament and knights from every corner of Bretonnia seemed to emerge to participate in the anniversary event. This didn’t surprise Fareau but what did, was the very weird knight in shiny yellow armour. His lance glew in an aerie blue glaze, which seemed to compete with the skies them selves. The runes on his helmet hurt Fareau’s eyes. It was like watching at some kind of forbidden art. The stranger’s horse was the most beautiful mount he had ever seen. Its magnificent physique and shear size made the other horses look like assess by comparison. Endless wisdom beamed from its red eyes. Fareau was guessing that red eyes weren’t very common for horses but what did he know? He was just a slave.
As always, none of the knights were any of a challenge for his master. The mysterious yellow knight seemed to be just as skilled though. In only a few hours the two artisans were gazing at each other in the finale. Fareau’s master bellowed his war cry and raced his horse onto the challenger. The competitor let out an evil laugh that seemed to hurt the very soul and began his counter galloping. Fareau noticed how the stranger’s lance seemed to get darker and darker the closer it got to the enemy. Finally it was pitch black and his master was down impaled from his horse. His armour was pierced and he was bleeding. This was the dark side of jousting. The victorious stranger raced his steed to the king and demanded for his reward. The king asked him to wait in his tent for a few hours and asked his servants to take the knight’s gear and horse into the stables. It was at this moment, when Fareau knew it was time to change his fate. He sneaked in to the stables and stole the horse and the lance and rode away with what he believed was happiness.
Suddenly he saw the mysterious knight’s face cackling at him and he woke up. His eyes showed terror and he was covered with sweat. His servant walked in and glared at him with surprise. He looked worried and whispered “Sir, are you quite alright? It is time to get up and get ready!” and walked away, giving his master some privacy. Fareau didn’t know why but he felt a strange fear in his heart. His muscles seemed very stiff and he had lost his voice over the night. He cursed the gods for the cold weather that made him sick at the worst possible time. But it would not matter. His lance would do all the work for him. He allowed himself a smile on his face, dressed up and stepped outside.
He saw many of his competitors look at him with wonder and something that could be described as a summary of fear and respect. He had stunning gilded armour with skilfully made ornaments resembling dragons. He had his lance in his right hand and a ham in his left hand. His long blonde hair tangled in the wind partially covering his line of sight. He threw away the ham, wiped off his hand and put his weighty helmet on, leaving only his blue intimidating eyes showing. He glanced at the people around him. He would soon beat them all.
Suddenly he heard the duke announce that the ceremonies would be starting shortly. Fareau laughed quietly at the duke’s squeaking voice. It reminded him of a certain goblin he had seen as a slave. As soon as he would get his daughter he would kill that man and ride away with his new trophy wench. He looked at the stunning young girl standing next to the duke. Soon she would be his. Thinking this seemed to give him power to move the mountains themselves. He roared a challenged to the gods as his servant mounted him on his horse.
The joust began without any fuss, apart of the troubadour almost choking to death on his own spit, as he tried to inhale enough air to play his instrument. As the tournament began everyone realised that nothing could stop Fareau’s lance. It was like a fist of a deranged angry god. After his spectacular victory in the semi-finales Fareau gave a sly wink to the girl cheering for him in the audience. He could have her, or any other girl he wanted. This was the cycle of life. Some people are doomed to achieving nothing, some people get it all. He smiled as he placed himself in to the latter group.
Finally it was time for him to see his finale challenger. It was a man in his 40-s, who had clearly gotten this high by luck. Not waiting for any signal he rushed his horse on to his competitor greedily, not even noticing that his opponent wasn’t ready yet. The poor fellow never had time to even put up a proper defence as the lance pierced his heart. Fareau looked at his opponent’s mutilated body in bloodlust. His lance was changing colours randomly until it stopped. The lance felt very different now and Fareau felt it. It was now black, as was his mind. It all came, oh so very clear to him now. These people didn’t deserve him, for he was too great for them! As the duke with his daughter came to congratulate him he took a sword from his dead opponent, killed them both and rode away. Nobody really could understand what he yelled to them but they did hear a mind terrifying cackle.