Stories before the fire

1

It is I, the Knight Sir Griffin who stands before your gate. I having just come from a quest I wish to you relate. 2

Let us sit by your hearth Lord and drink a cup of mead. Then tales of fire, danger, magic and mysteries I’ll relate. 3

Please excuse my foreign accent Lord, for no pedigree am I. With fire as my sword, the magi’s of health to restore and spirit to confuse, I pursue my knightly quests. 4

But I grow weary lord, many battles have I fought. I would care to hear your tales Lord and those of your court. Then tomorrow Lord, I’ll tell you of the beginning of my quest. 5

A quest to save a young lassie lost and alone. 6

Of course Sir Griffin, please, make your self at home. I would very much care to hear of your travels. For tonight I’ll have one of the maids show you to a room in the Knight’s Quarters where you may rest for the evening.. As for myself, I am afraid I am not much of a story teller. So rest up tonight and meet with me in my chambers tomorrow. We will have plenty to drink I assure you. 7

The following night, in the chambers of the prince, both well rested, we met again. 8


“Good evening to you me Lord.” I greeted him upon entering.
“Might I join you in a cup of mead?” 9

“Welcome back Sir Griffin. Please, have a seat and help yourself”. The prince replied, smiling warmly. 10

"Thank you good sir." I say as I pour myself a drink and get comfortable by the fire. 11

Well, the tale begins as I sit inside a local tavern, which has been my wont of late. I'm alone with nothing much to do. 12

Gazing about the room, looking perhaps for an old acquaintance or a friendly face when loud voices do I hear, three men with whores on each knee, barbarians they look to be. 13

I, sitting quietly, with nothing better to do, listen. 14

They laugh and boast of pillaging and ransacking some hapless village. I listen close now, this tale I've not heard. 15

They continue to drink and brag of raping young women and killing little boys. 16

As you know my Lord, a man of honor doesn't do such things. 17

They speak of a particular young lassie who, frightened ran off into the wood, The lass being wily and swift was able to give them a merry chase. Tiring of chasing her they returned to the easier woman still in the village. 18

I had heard enough! No men were these. So, angrily, I walk up to their table an ask 19

"Of what village do you speak? 20

“Old Farendell” one says, laughing. Then tells me it is no more. That is all the information I needed to know. 21

Well, I turned my stare upon him and gave him my evil eye. I watched his eyes glaze over. Yet, held my stare a little longer till drool can from his mouth; an I knew, an idiot he'd now be. 22

Then I drew my sword of fire and turned to the others too drunk to pay me heed. They stood up at my approach, throwing the whores to the floor. 23

No more words would I speak. 24

I raised my sword and struck… once, twice. Like the village they destroyed, they were no more. 25

Sheathing my sword, I take their ill gotten gold and, giving them a toast that their souls forever rot in Hell, finished my mug of mead. Their gold I would need upon my journey. 26

As you know my Lord, the wood is not a safe place for a young lassie. Many perils do there lie. 27

So, that is how my quest began. As you can see it was of dire need. Now let me wet my lips with a little more mead as I prepare to tell you of my adventures along the way. 28

"That is an intriguing beginning to your quest, fair one. Your deeds appear to be both honorable and pure. I avidly wait to hear more." 29

"Thank you, good Sir." 30

As I leave the tavern I hasten about to gather my supplies and prepare my steed for travel, for in the morning, I would wish to leave at early light. 31

In me mind I create a list. I will need magic herbs to cure poisons, perhaps a little mead… alas no. Too much the spirits within call out to me and push me to there way. Water then, and blankets, it grows chill of late; Food will I gather along my way. 32

Gathering my supplies and completing my errands I return to the Inn for the night… 33

In the morning I set out, leaving that miserable town behind me. 34

Heading out in the cool of the early morning air, I consider the choices of directions I must take. 35

As you know my Lord, there be but two paths from Socwedth to Old Farendell, that of the mountain trail that takes several days, or that of the Dragon’s Cave. 36

The path through the cave is faster, taking only a day once reached, but filled with great peril, for should the dragon catch scent of me, it could end in my quick demise. I can only hope the story of the dragons be true, for surely if he reads my heart he’ll let me pass. 37

Well, my purpose is urgent and I must then, in haste, take only my good intentions as my shield and try this perilous path. 38

I ride late into the night, deep into the forest. The sounds of the scurrying and chirping creatures of the forest abound. 39

When suddenly… silence. 40

I am wise to the wood and silence means something or someone is near. I move slowly and quietly, listening intently while keeping to the darker edges of the path. 41

However, my steed snickers giving my location away. There ahead, something moves in the shadows, and again to my right. I know this now to be a band of bandits. 42

Seeing a traveler riding alone they wish to rob me, first of my steed and then my life. 43

Choosing an armored knight was to be their first mistake. 44

The tall black stallion I ride is well trained and will hold the path alone and can be a dangerous foe with its teeth and hooves to any man or beast. 45

With my left hand I grab the reins, with the other, I reach for my sword. As I draw my sword from its scabbard, fire begins to glow along the blade. 46

Upon their attack, my steed neighs loudly, rears back, its hooves cleaving the air. 47

I strike to the right… an arm that was reaching is severed. The night is filled with the man’s horrified and pain filled screams. 48

My steed comes down upon another, pummeling him to the ground. I can hear the snapping of breaking ribs. 49

On my left, another comes; I strike out with an armored foot, taking no time to watch him fall. Instead, I quickly kick in with my heels signaling my steed ahead. 50

They rush out of the forest thinking I’m about to run off. 51

Ha! That was to be their second and final mistake. 52

As I break free I stop and turn, my heart pounding in anger. 53

Letting go of the reins, I reach into my jacket and pull out a knife. Again my horse rears up and with a light kick to his sides, we charge back in. 54

I throw my knife at one, piercing him through the throat. Grabbing my pummel I lean to the right, and with my sword slice off the head of another. 55

Breaking free, I stop and turn, preparing again to charge. 56

But, the few left, are gone, disappearing into the forest. Nothing but the dead and I still remain upon the path. I wait for a moment, calming myself, then dismount my horse, walk over to the bodies and retrieve my knife, cleaning it upon the foolish thief’s jerkin. 57

Remounting again, I walk on deeper into the forest. I would reach the cave by morning. 58

“That is a fine brew you have my Lord.” Remarking as I take a break and fill my cup again. 59

The Prince relaxed in a big chair mentions with a wry smile. “Your tale sparks my interest Sir Griffin, for I have encountered many bandits in my travels, and all of them were very skilled at their trade. I'm amazed by your ability to defend yourself from almost certain death. 60

Griffin grumbles a bit upon hearing this, thinking that perhaps the young Prince thought him only a braggart, decides instead of continuing, to change the story to another. 61

Because you have shown me such wonderful hospitality I shall tell you a different story, a story I seldom tell. 62

Through it you may come to know me more fully. Perhaps then you will understand why these bandits offered me so little threat. 63

It is a story of young man, raised to be a warrior. 64

His father was a seasoned soldier in the king’s army having surviving many a campaign. During his final battle against overwhelming odds a tendon was cut in his leg. No longer could he march. 65

For his prowess in battle he had gained the respect of his companions and his king. For which he was greeded a small piece of land. He was a fierce fighter and continued to practice.. 66

Before the boy could even speak he watched his father continue to develop this deadly art. Such grace and speed he showed, his features coming alive as the sword flashed through the air around him. 67

The boy was in awe of him and would sit and watch for hours. When he was about seven his father started training him and for many years there after they practiced. 68

First helping the child develop his strength, then speed, then on to the higher training in using intimidation and cunning like second weapons. He also taught him The Code of Honor as it was taught to him by a knight of the Kings Table and by which he lived his life. 69

He was hurt often by his father during those years.
.
His mother, being a sorceress, started training him in the arts of the magi. Of this he was not especially adapt and could only learn the arts that would help him survive and overcome his enemies with his sword. 70

He learned the magi of heal to attend to the wounds of his father and himself during those tough but mock battles. Then the magi of confuse to trip up a weak of mind foe. The art of confuse he found did not work well on the strong of mind and spirit. Rather he found the art of intimidation a better tool. 71

He once tried to use the magi of confuse on his father during one of their bouts. Ha, such a trashing he received that day. He learned his lessons well. 72

Never trust magi in the heat of battle, never show weakness to a foe, and always follow the Code of Honor, without which a man’s life has no value. 73

One day, the boy now a man, returned home to find his family dead. His mother raped and tied to a tree, vultures eating her eyes. His father cut to ribbons, three of his enemies by his side. 74

The Prince looked at him with growing alarm as Sir Griffin, drawing his sword, rose before him, fire forming on his blade, and said in a deadly calm voice, 75

"The young lass was my sister, the men were yours…"
76