forums.rs

Forums

~*Illuminating Shadows*~

Quick find code: 49-50-789-56036848

of 44
Poller5
Dec Member 2023

Poller5

Posts: 11,421 Opal Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
*~Chapter Three: Harsh Training~*
Halldór sat silently on his bed, thinking. It had been merely a day since the dwarf had visited him, but Halldór hardly noticed the passage of time. Immediately after the dwarf had left his cell he had returned to his bed and there he remained, moving only for his evening meal. His mind raced in circles, always coming back to the inevitable thoughts of defeat and loss. Truly was his will destroyed, for in his culture dishonour was a fate far worse than death, a stigma that he would pass onto his children, and them onto theirs.
His mind raced through these thoughts repeatedly throughout the day, much the same as they had in days gone past. The more he brooded on them, the more painful they became, the more terrible the fantasies his mind played out for him. It had been a few days previous when he had remembered one of the worst events of his childhood, one that had left one of his friends an outcast from society.
His friend's father, Eiðr, had been leading a trip deep into the mountains, a voyage that would bring them to an ancient temple to the most sacred of their gods. Far had they ventured, through increasingly difficult terrain when they at least reached the summit of mountain nearest to the sight. Their joy was great, for the feat had rarely been achieved by men of their tribe. That night they lit a great bonfire and drank enough beer to kill a small ox, and all the while Eiðr remained aloof from the celebrations, seemingly in a strange and pensive mood.
Eiðr claimed that during the climb the spirits of the dead had came to him and warned him of going on, claiming that the only reward they would find at the temple would be death. He had always been a superstitious man, a trait generally frowned on by the tribe based on an ancient phrase: If you can't stab it, it can't stab you.

23-Mar-2008 22:57:51 - Last edited on 28-Jan-2009 19:55:14 by Poller5

Poller5
Dec Member 2023

Poller5

Posts: 11,421 Opal Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
The Fremenniks honestly believed this to be true, and their knowledge of magic was not great enough to disprove it, and so fear of that which could not be touched was frowned and sneered upon.
The following day, following a vigorous dunking in the nearby snowdrifts to clear hangovers, the Fremenniks had gone on, and they had nearly reached the temple when Eiðr claimed that he would not be going any further. He told them that the spirits of the dead had approached him and warned him not to go the temple, that death would be his only reward. The other Fremenniks laughed at this, and only after seeing the look of absolute conviction remain unwavering on his face did they realize that he honestly felt that his words were the truth.
Amazed at the show of, in their eyes, irrational thinking, the other Fremenniks joked around, trying to quench his fears, but each failing. Deep within them they knew that if this man did not choose to go on then he would rain dishonour upon his family and they would be shunned and ostracized. They then carried on, and Eiðr followed at first, half-heartedly, and when they came within site of the ancient temple he stopped and would not go on. The others knew then that he would not escape the stigma of dishonour.
He remained standing there for the duration of their visit to the temple, and when they returned marched silently in their midst, torn between the thinking that the spirits could have been right and the shock he felt at his own cowardice. When they returned to their settlement word spread quickly of his shameful cowardice, his dishonouring of his name and his family, and though nothing was stated officially, nothing was stated outright, his family was ostracized and contact with them was, for the most part, terminated.

23-Mar-2008 22:58:12 - Last edited on 23-Mar-2008 22:59:46 by Poller5

Poller5
Dec Member 2023

Poller5

Posts: 11,421 Opal Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
It was not until many years later that Halldór had learned the truth of the event, and all he knew for many years was that after Eiðr had arrived back at the town he was no longer allowed any contact with his son, a boy his own age whom he had befriended many years in the past. For many more hours his mind raced through the same loop, always coming back to the shame he would bring upon his family. Being imprisoned was one of the highest of shames, for it meant that the man had not proven himself to be enough of a threat to warrant killing.
He would have remained in such a state for many more hours had not a dwarf – the same one that he had encountered yesterday – come into the room and smacked him hard one the face. Halldór looked up, startled, and before he could react he was being pulled up off the bed and marched towards the door, a dagger pushed against his back and a cold voice in his ear whispering "One false move and you're dead."
Halldór's mind was far removed from his body as he was led through the twisting hallways towards his unknown destination. They walked swiftly through the tunnels, and eventually passed through a heavily guarded threshold into a large, open room. Halldór's mind didn't come free from the endless looping of his thoughts until the dwarf punched him in the side and asked: "Weapon?" A look of confusion crossed Halldór's face and the dwarf pointed to a weapon cabinet beside them and asked again, "Weapon?"
Halldór did not deign to answer, but rather walked over to the cabinet and mechanically grabbed a two handed sword. "Why?" he asked, not understanding why he was being armed.
"You'll not survive the fights without training," the dwarf stated simply. Halldór's mind then deviated from the loop and he realized the purpose of his imprisonment: he was to fight others for entertainment.

23-Mar-2008 22:58:31 - Last edited on 28-Jan-2009 19:57:47 by Poller5

Quick find code: 49-50-789-56036848 Back to Top