06-11-2011, 08:11 PM
The man donned his heavy cloak and headed out to the streets with a single minded purpose. He slipped through his nondescript front door, and followed a small dark alley heading to his family’s estate. No one was allowed in this building besides the patriarch and matriarch of the family, but the son cared little for such petty stipulations. He came for one purpose. The bow. His family made their original fortune from this prized weapon. When the leaders of the family decided to retire this bow, he was incredibly upset. Although then, he was merely a boy seeking for fame and fortune through such an artifact. Now he wanted it for greater purposes. Much greater.
As Wergan rounded the corner he looked at his family’s estate in awe. The majestic spirals always seemed to inspire greatness in all who saw them. His family estate was surrounded with a 20 foot wall made of pure white-stone making it seem completely smooth to the untrained eye. At the four corners there were majestic spirals that gracefully lifted 70 feet into the air. Archers were set at the top of each spiral as they were on the walls, so this mini-citadel was well defended. Wergan smiled at this. He was heavily cloaked in black, and due to the night’s darkness it was almost impossible to see him. Torches lined the walls, but they were of little use to dispel the penetrating blackness beyond.
Wergan silently padded up to the wall and searched for the crevice he had found earlier that week. Running his hand over the smooth surface, he found his notch. Slowly he began ascending the wall, then picked up the pace as he saw one of the guards squint over his way. The guard talked to his colleague and pointed over his way. He didn’t want to fight, nor kill, this night. He wanted a nice, clean steal and to be on the road by sun-break.
“I thought I saw something over there Jet,” Pul said.
Jet sighed and shook his head.
“C’mon Jet, let’s just check it out,” Pul insisted.
The two guards walked over and peered across the wall where the flicker was last seen. Wergan, his dagger at the ready, perched himself on the estate side of the wall. The guards continued their search for a few moments then moved back to their original positions.
“See Pul, you’re seeing nothing but ghosts tonight,” Jet laughed.
Pul smiled sheepishly then shook his head. He knew what he saw was no ghost. Nowhere near it. Even from the distance he was at, he thought could see the silhouette of a person.
“I’m going down there, maybe I can get some indication on if there was really something there,” Pul said.
“Go waste your time then,” Jet mumbled under his breath.
Wergan sighed. He knew this wouldn’t be as easy as it seemed, and now he had to watch for a wary guard on his way down. He shook his head to dispel any doubts and descended. He hit the ground softly and silently crept to the back of the house.
As Pul was going down the stairs from the wall, he got another glimpse of something out of his peripheral vision heading toward the estate. He tentatively followed.
Wergan finally made it on the other side of the house and checked his surroundings just as a precaution. He found nothing. Creeping slowly as to not wake the dogs inside who had extremely acute hearing for their breed, he went up to the door and began picking the lock meticulously. With a satisfying click, the door unlocked. He knew that to be too easy though. His family always set a secondary trap to catch any thieves or thugs who tried to break in. Wergan thought back to his childhood and remembered his father’s favorite trap called the “Time Traveler,” it was set as a poison dart released by a trip wire when walking in. When the intruder was hit with the poison he would have hallucinations of his past and simply sit down. This could go on for hours. And because the house is check every hour, he would’ve been found and thrown in jail. Most likely, the intruder would never remember how the trap was sprung, so they never went back.
Wergan knew, though. He opened the door slowly and let his hand glide just above the floor. After about 2 feet, he felt a thin wire. He grinned at his own skill and cut the wire precisely. He nearly made a fatal mistake. After cutting the wire, he moved his hand back slowly, and was nearly caught in the trap. Luck was with him this day though; the dart plummeted down and hit the hilt of his dagger a mere 3 centimeters from his hand. He cursed himself for being so careless and angrily shoved his dagger into its sleeve.
Pul watched, enthralled at how someone had bypassed the trap that so many had failed at. He would not look forward to fighting this one, he decided. But he continued to follow, slowly creeping up closer to the man.
Wergan shut the door behind him and went immediately to the small weapons cache his father kept in the basement. Tired of the slow-paced secrecy, he swiftly careened down the steps and entered the small armory. Maces, swords, all hung here. There were small piles of axes and an even larger pile of battle axes. Wergan let his eyes adjust and was granted the opportunity to see the bow, it emanated with power. He could see a blue aura surrounding it. He walked over to the bow, his confidence gaining with each step, and tensely went out to grab it…
BANG!
Pul smashed the basement door Wergan locked behind him and ran down the steps. Wergan, bow in hand, a set of arrows on his back, and a magical arrow notched at the ready sat in wait. Pul reached the armory and was stunned to see this figure carrying the family’s most powerful weapon. What confused the guard was only a family member of Locke’s could wield it. Dogs barked and screamed at ground level, trying to locate the source of the large bang.
Wergan pulled back his cloak and grimaced at the guard, looked up at where the dogs were bound to becoming down and shook his head slowly.
“You’re...” Pul stuttered.
“Yes. Yes, I am,” Wergan replied.
Then everything went black.
_--_--_--_--_--_--_--_--_--_--_--_
Wergan studied the man that feinted several meters from his feet, and grinned. He knew of this man; Pul had been a father figure to him when he was a young boy growing up in the estate. He taught him sword play, archery, and the art of silent movement. He figured that this man had lost most of the skills with age, but wouldn’t underestimate him if he had to fight.
He heard the dogs approaching and cursed himself for reminiscing for so long. Wergan growled and grabbed Pul and shook him until he awoke groggily.
“Wha…” Pul said.
“Get up and get moving, the dogs are coming, and they are not kind when they are woken in the middle of the night,” Wergan snapped.
Pul jumped to his feet, shook his clouded head and darted for the stairs with Wergan right behind him. They burst through the broken basement doors and saw dogs coming from the stairs. They took a quick swerve to the left and ran for the back door. Adrenaline pumping, they leapt through the door and threw it closed behind them, both breathing heavy.
“You still got it old man,” Wergan said another grin finding its way on his fine face.
“You know I have to tell your parents,” Pul said sadly.
Wergan paused; carefully studying Pul’s face and what he saw there surprised him. Pul was genuinely sad and didn’t want to turn his prodigy in.
“You don’t have to,” Wergan said in a whisper, hearing troupes of guards coming to investigate the dogs barking.
Pul studied the young man; saw a calm visage and a determined look, as if he were prepared for a fight. He sighed… he saw that look too many times in his old days training the boy.
“Fine, but I’m coming with you,” Pul declared.
“Really? I mean you don’t have to, but that -…”
“I’m coming to protect the bow, boy,” and shook his head, “I’m probably getting fired for this, you know.”
Wergan smiled a grand smile. He hadn't been with Pul in many years, and he missed the games and fantasy adventures they had.
Wergan pointed over to the far wall and motioned Pul to follow him. Pul nodded and told him, with a small motion, to lead the way. Wergan silently ran to the far wall, Pul close behind him making little noise. Both men scaled the walls in a few moments. On the wall, they both looked for an easy way to get down without getting harmed on that 20 foot drop.
The guards rounded the corner and spotted them in the torchlight.
They yelled up at them, threatening if they did not turn themselves in they would have a very sad existence. Pul knew this to be true.
“Time to go,” Wergan grinned and leapt off the wall into the darkness.
Pul followed suite but did not simply jump. He wasn’t as agile or as quick as the young man, so he tried to find an easy way to scale the wall without plunging into the blackness below. Guards still continued to yell at him, screaming at him to halt or die. He knew the voices were getting closer, but he had to block that out.
Wergan called from below, “You coming old man?” Pul thought he could see a wide grin through the darkness.
His patience paid off. He found a jagged out cropping that allowed him to begin his descent. He slowly and meticulously began his climb down. After several minutes, he finally hit the ground; and saw Wergan looking up the wall, searching for him.
Pul grinned to himself, figuring he would sneak up on Wergan and give him a good scare. He circled Wergan’s position, moving as silent as a shadow. He began drawing nearer, facing Wergan’s back. Moving one foot in front of the other, beginning to pick up speed, Pul made it to Wergan in a matter of seconds. Right behind Wergan, Pul simply said, “Boo.”
Wergan felt like he jumped 4 feet into the air, a look a terror across his normally placid face. He turned to face the intruder and… fell over.
Pul grinned at him evilly, showing him in no small way that he could still run with the best of them; that the tag “old man” was far from correct.
Wergan looked up at his mentor and surrogate-father and couldn’t help but put a smile on his face.
As Wergan rounded the corner he looked at his family’s estate in awe. The majestic spirals always seemed to inspire greatness in all who saw them. His family estate was surrounded with a 20 foot wall made of pure white-stone making it seem completely smooth to the untrained eye. At the four corners there were majestic spirals that gracefully lifted 70 feet into the air. Archers were set at the top of each spiral as they were on the walls, so this mini-citadel was well defended. Wergan smiled at this. He was heavily cloaked in black, and due to the night’s darkness it was almost impossible to see him. Torches lined the walls, but they were of little use to dispel the penetrating blackness beyond.
Wergan silently padded up to the wall and searched for the crevice he had found earlier that week. Running his hand over the smooth surface, he found his notch. Slowly he began ascending the wall, then picked up the pace as he saw one of the guards squint over his way. The guard talked to his colleague and pointed over his way. He didn’t want to fight, nor kill, this night. He wanted a nice, clean steal and to be on the road by sun-break.
“I thought I saw something over there Jet,” Pul said.
Jet sighed and shook his head.
“C’mon Jet, let’s just check it out,” Pul insisted.
The two guards walked over and peered across the wall where the flicker was last seen. Wergan, his dagger at the ready, perched himself on the estate side of the wall. The guards continued their search for a few moments then moved back to their original positions.
“See Pul, you’re seeing nothing but ghosts tonight,” Jet laughed.
Pul smiled sheepishly then shook his head. He knew what he saw was no ghost. Nowhere near it. Even from the distance he was at, he thought could see the silhouette of a person.
“I’m going down there, maybe I can get some indication on if there was really something there,” Pul said.
“Go waste your time then,” Jet mumbled under his breath.
Wergan sighed. He knew this wouldn’t be as easy as it seemed, and now he had to watch for a wary guard on his way down. He shook his head to dispel any doubts and descended. He hit the ground softly and silently crept to the back of the house.
As Pul was going down the stairs from the wall, he got another glimpse of something out of his peripheral vision heading toward the estate. He tentatively followed.
Wergan finally made it on the other side of the house and checked his surroundings just as a precaution. He found nothing. Creeping slowly as to not wake the dogs inside who had extremely acute hearing for their breed, he went up to the door and began picking the lock meticulously. With a satisfying click, the door unlocked. He knew that to be too easy though. His family always set a secondary trap to catch any thieves or thugs who tried to break in. Wergan thought back to his childhood and remembered his father’s favorite trap called the “Time Traveler,” it was set as a poison dart released by a trip wire when walking in. When the intruder was hit with the poison he would have hallucinations of his past and simply sit down. This could go on for hours. And because the house is check every hour, he would’ve been found and thrown in jail. Most likely, the intruder would never remember how the trap was sprung, so they never went back.
Wergan knew, though. He opened the door slowly and let his hand glide just above the floor. After about 2 feet, he felt a thin wire. He grinned at his own skill and cut the wire precisely. He nearly made a fatal mistake. After cutting the wire, he moved his hand back slowly, and was nearly caught in the trap. Luck was with him this day though; the dart plummeted down and hit the hilt of his dagger a mere 3 centimeters from his hand. He cursed himself for being so careless and angrily shoved his dagger into its sleeve.
Pul watched, enthralled at how someone had bypassed the trap that so many had failed at. He would not look forward to fighting this one, he decided. But he continued to follow, slowly creeping up closer to the man.
Wergan shut the door behind him and went immediately to the small weapons cache his father kept in the basement. Tired of the slow-paced secrecy, he swiftly careened down the steps and entered the small armory. Maces, swords, all hung here. There were small piles of axes and an even larger pile of battle axes. Wergan let his eyes adjust and was granted the opportunity to see the bow, it emanated with power. He could see a blue aura surrounding it. He walked over to the bow, his confidence gaining with each step, and tensely went out to grab it…
BANG!
Pul smashed the basement door Wergan locked behind him and ran down the steps. Wergan, bow in hand, a set of arrows on his back, and a magical arrow notched at the ready sat in wait. Pul reached the armory and was stunned to see this figure carrying the family’s most powerful weapon. What confused the guard was only a family member of Locke’s could wield it. Dogs barked and screamed at ground level, trying to locate the source of the large bang.
Wergan pulled back his cloak and grimaced at the guard, looked up at where the dogs were bound to becoming down and shook his head slowly.
“You’re...” Pul stuttered.
“Yes. Yes, I am,” Wergan replied.
Then everything went black.
_--_--_--_--_--_--_--_--_--_--_--_
Wergan studied the man that feinted several meters from his feet, and grinned. He knew of this man; Pul had been a father figure to him when he was a young boy growing up in the estate. He taught him sword play, archery, and the art of silent movement. He figured that this man had lost most of the skills with age, but wouldn’t underestimate him if he had to fight.
He heard the dogs approaching and cursed himself for reminiscing for so long. Wergan growled and grabbed Pul and shook him until he awoke groggily.
“Wha…” Pul said.
“Get up and get moving, the dogs are coming, and they are not kind when they are woken in the middle of the night,” Wergan snapped.
Pul jumped to his feet, shook his clouded head and darted for the stairs with Wergan right behind him. They burst through the broken basement doors and saw dogs coming from the stairs. They took a quick swerve to the left and ran for the back door. Adrenaline pumping, they leapt through the door and threw it closed behind them, both breathing heavy.
“You still got it old man,” Wergan said another grin finding its way on his fine face.
“You know I have to tell your parents,” Pul said sadly.
Wergan paused; carefully studying Pul’s face and what he saw there surprised him. Pul was genuinely sad and didn’t want to turn his prodigy in.
“You don’t have to,” Wergan said in a whisper, hearing troupes of guards coming to investigate the dogs barking.
Pul studied the young man; saw a calm visage and a determined look, as if he were prepared for a fight. He sighed… he saw that look too many times in his old days training the boy.
“Fine, but I’m coming with you,” Pul declared.
“Really? I mean you don’t have to, but that -…”
“I’m coming to protect the bow, boy,” and shook his head, “I’m probably getting fired for this, you know.”
Wergan smiled a grand smile. He hadn't been with Pul in many years, and he missed the games and fantasy adventures they had.
Wergan pointed over to the far wall and motioned Pul to follow him. Pul nodded and told him, with a small motion, to lead the way. Wergan silently ran to the far wall, Pul close behind him making little noise. Both men scaled the walls in a few moments. On the wall, they both looked for an easy way to get down without getting harmed on that 20 foot drop.
The guards rounded the corner and spotted them in the torchlight.
They yelled up at them, threatening if they did not turn themselves in they would have a very sad existence. Pul knew this to be true.
“Time to go,” Wergan grinned and leapt off the wall into the darkness.
Pul followed suite but did not simply jump. He wasn’t as agile or as quick as the young man, so he tried to find an easy way to scale the wall without plunging into the blackness below. Guards still continued to yell at him, screaming at him to halt or die. He knew the voices were getting closer, but he had to block that out.
Wergan called from below, “You coming old man?” Pul thought he could see a wide grin through the darkness.
His patience paid off. He found a jagged out cropping that allowed him to begin his descent. He slowly and meticulously began his climb down. After several minutes, he finally hit the ground; and saw Wergan looking up the wall, searching for him.
Pul grinned to himself, figuring he would sneak up on Wergan and give him a good scare. He circled Wergan’s position, moving as silent as a shadow. He began drawing nearer, facing Wergan’s back. Moving one foot in front of the other, beginning to pick up speed, Pul made it to Wergan in a matter of seconds. Right behind Wergan, Pul simply said, “Boo.”
Wergan felt like he jumped 4 feet into the air, a look a terror across his normally placid face. He turned to face the intruder and… fell over.
Pul grinned at him evilly, showing him in no small way that he could still run with the best of them; that the tag “old man” was far from correct.
Wergan looked up at his mentor and surrogate-father and couldn’t help but put a smile on his face.
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