Seekers of Truth RPG

[Firefoot]

Harold glanced up, startled, as the door crashed inward. A man, one Harold vaguely recognized, strode through the door with a sword in hand. Eowyn was dropped by Arthur, who also drew his sword. For the moment, Harold shoved Henry into the closet and shut the door. He readied his sword, knowing this man couldn’t be the only one coming. He was proven right almost immediately when three women pushed through the door, one of them Sandrina. She met Harold’s gaze boldly, hate mirrored in her eyes.

“Time for you to die,” said Harold. He lunged for her with his sword, and his blade crashed on that of the woman standing to Sandrina’s right. He did not waste time to glare at her.

“It is not I who will die today,” said Sandrina. Harold supposed she was trying to sound noble. “It is you.” She too drew her sword, and Harold found himself faced by the three armed women.

“Not until you do,” replied Harold, and with that he made another move that began the continuous dipping and twisting that made up the special dance of sword fighting. Harold had great skill with a sword, and he knew it. He received a small nick on his left shoulder, but returned it with many more. Seizing an opportunity, he snaked his sword back behind one of the woman’s legs and sliced at her hamstrings. The woman collapsed, out of the fight. Now Harold had but two opponents. The ring of metal on metal was in his ears, and his awareness was limited to that of his sword and this battle.

He was about to deliver the death-stroke to the woman he did not know when his blade was stopped abruptly by another’s, and Harold was jerked back to reality. He saw that it was a man, about the same height as himself. Harold kept his eyes on all of them. Sandrina seemed perhaps a little relieved. The man spoke to them, “Sandrina, Anora, you two go and help Henry and Eowyn. I will take over from here.” The man turned to Harold. Harold now had the opportunity to see what else was going on in his peripheral vision. There was only one other man that he had failed to notice before, and he was fighting Samuel. Arthur was still fighting with that other man, whose actions were now visibly labored.

“You have caused Sandrina a great deal of pain, you know,” the man addressed Harold, apparently testing Harold out.

“Good,” replied Harold. “She has caused me a great deal of trouble.” Harold ran his blade down that of his new opponent’s. Harold feinted left and stabbed to the right. The man parried both with slices of his own. Harold nodded. Here was a decent swordsman. This fight was more intense than the one he had fought with the women. Harold could feel sweat dripping down his forehead. He had not had rough days like these past few in many years, and he was not young anymore. To his benefit was the skill and wisdom such as it was that came with age. There was no time for thought. The heat of his hate fueled him on. He had a goal to accomplish; this man was only an obstacle. By the end of this day, Henry and Sandrina alike would be dead for the griefs they had caused him.

The man was good, but Harold was better. The man, seeing a chance, reached out too far, and Harold did not hesitate. He ducked, knocking the man off balance, and stabbed into the man’s side. Blood spurted from the wound. The man fell over in a faint, but Harold knew he was not dead. He had struck beneath the rib cage. He set his sword to the man’s chest. Ordinarily, he would have left the man, but he had aided Sandrina, no small crime in Harold’s opinion.

“I would not do that if I were you,” said a soft voice behind him. It was one Harold recognized instantly: Henry’s. Harold felt sharp cold metal against his own neck. Slowly, he turned around.

“If I were like you,” said Henry. “I would kill you now. But I will not. I will give you a fair chance. Let us see whether your sword skills have improved since we were teens.” Harold’s temper flared. Henry had beaten him before when Harold tried to kill him; he would not now.

“You will regret it,” Harold spat. He turned, and walked toward the gaping doorway. “Come. We will do this properly, in somewhere with more space than this room. Henry grunted in assent, and followed Harold outside.

The brothers faced off, a few feet from each other, each raising his sword. Wordlessly, they flew at each other. Both started out relatively easily, and as they felt each other out the skill level steadily increased. Very evenly matched, both Henry and Harold received small cuts, but nothing more serious than that, though Harold's shoulder where the woman had cut it was throbbing. They fought in a cold fury, their swords blazing as if on fire in the light of the westering sun. The advantage switched back and forth, both men attacking and parrying.

Henry made as if to slash into Harold’s right side. Harold saw this as a fatal mistake, and he stabbed with a vengeance at Henry’s heart. As soon as he began to move, Harold knew he had made a mistake. Henry had fooled him with a simple trick, and sure enough the blade of Henry’s sword came up and knocked Harold’s weapon out of his hand. He knew that Henry would not let him go free this time. Bitterly he rued the day Arthur and Samuel had failed to kill Sandrina. Because of their mistake, he would die this day.

Henry wore a small smile on his face. It was not happiness, nor satisfaction. Harold realized it was sadness. Henry moved his sword within inches of Harold’s face. Harold did not flinch.

“I wish I did not have to do this,” said Henry. “but I do. If it had been only me you had hurt, this day and every day since Sandrina turned up missing, I could forgive you. I was not the only one hurt, though. My wife and daughter have suffered, too. This is for them.” His voice, though it had grown softer in tone, had also grown harder in conviction. This aroused curiosity in Harold. He wondered his brother’s words, that his death was for Sandrina and Eowyn. What kind of love was this? Harold did not understand, did not want to understand. It was too late for him. Any breath he took could be his last. He pushed the soft thoughts away. He had lived strong, and he would now die strong.

“This is for them,” repeated Henry, and with those words he drove his sword through Harold’s heart.

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Hama swung again and again at Arthur who, although visibly shaken and scared, was parrying each stroke deftly, a swordsman's instinct, nothing more or less..."You know nothing of us!" he screamed at Hama, who he obviously didn't recognise immediately, "You know nothing! We have done no wrong, you're a rider, you are sworn to protect us!"...Hama smiled grimly at this last remark. "Sworn protector of law abiding citizens, Arthur Lightheart!" Arthur reeled at the sound of his name. "Not petty, murderous, rich criminals like yourself and your family!"..."Who ARE you?" Arthur screamed, Eowyn stood up, visibly hurt, and bleeding from the mouth where Arthur had dropped her. Her eyes widened, like Arthur's, and like Samuel's, when he said as he swung agin, "I am Hama Haukrsonn, sworn protector of Eomer, his law, and his people. I am also a friend of your family..." Hama smiled as he leaned in close, swords locked, "You always were a slimy, spoilt little brat, Arthur. I'm amazed you're still alive..." Samuel tripped over his own shoes and fell backwards onto the floor as he retreated backwards from the battle. Raen grabbed him and held a knife to his throat. "Leaving so soon, worm?"

Hama and Arthur were evenly matched, for all his experience, Hama was hurt badly, and the bandage around his midriff started to redden around his back as his wound opened again. Arthur, seeing Hama's increasingly laboured swings, stepped up the pace. Now the positions were reversed, Hama was driven backwards while Arthur continued to swing furiously. Eventually, Arthur became tired as well, foiled by Hama's skill. Both men lowered their swords for the briefest of moments to rest...

Hama's face hardened as he watched Sandrina. He'd protected her, damn near died for her, and for what, so these criminals could walk free? As Crystal handed him back his sword, Hama raised it to Arthur's throat. Arthur started to weep, the tears of the damned. He crawled to Hama's feet, kissing his shoes, beggind him to spare his life. Samuel just sat quietly at the back, whimpering. Hama looked dow at Arthur. "One good reason. One good reason why I shouldn't kill you, Arthur." Arthur lowered his head and wept. It was a pitiful sight. He knelt down, praying. Hama spat at him...and raised his sword....


The blade clove clean through Arthur's neck, his headless body, spewing fountains of blood, fell to the floor. Hama raised the head by its hair and threw it at Samuel, who caught it. He began to weep as he saw the expression on his dead brothers face, one of sheer, pure terror. "It'll be you next, Samuel Lightheart, if I ever have cause to do it." Hama spoke harshly, and left, leaving Samuel weeping like a child over his brother's body...

[Crystal Heart]

Henry walked over to his daughter, tears brimming in his eyes.

"My daughter, you are alive," He whispered as he drew her into his arms. Sandrina cried against him, happy to finally have everything back. Eowyn joined the hug and crying fest. Then Sandrina broke away.

"We can celebrate at home. Now we must deal with the other two traitors. They were the ones that carried out the plan," Sandrina said. Henry looked down at his daughter, pride in his eyes. He turned to Samuel and Arthur, glaring. The pride that was there moments before was gone. Anger replaced it.

"You two. You took away our daughter. You made us believe that she was dead. You are nothing. I want you to face justice here and now with my Sandrina's sword. Kneel down you traitors. NOW!" Henry roared. They trembled as they got down on their knees.

Henry stepped forward and whipped the sword point upon their faces. They screamed out in pain as the blood flowed freely down their face.

"This is a mark of what you have done against us. No matter where you go now, everyone will know of what you have done. Raen and Hama you may do what you see fit," Henry said. Then he walked over and handed Sandrina her sword.

"Let's go home Father," Sandrina said. Henry nodded and smiled.

"Yes, let us go home. All of us. I would like to give you all rewards for what you have done. Please join us at our estate," Henry took Eowyn's hand and led her outside slowly. Sandrina turned to the group.

"Thank you all for what you have done for me. I am in your deepest debts," Sandrina said, her eyes glistening with tears. Anora smiled and gave her a hug. Sandrina's eyes wandered over the group that was smiling at her.

"It was our pleasure to help you, Sandrina," Raen said.


Together they went to the estate for a grand party and for a reward in money, uniting them together for now and always through this quest. The sun dipped down over the happy, celebatory group, sealing with it the end of their journey together.






Seekers of Truth

[piosenniel]

~*~ Finis ~*~