S
stafford
Guest
now that i have your attention....
enjoy
He sat alone atop the dusty track overlooking the valley. The deep green forests swayed rythmically as the cool breeze began to form a sharp edge,
"Storm" He muttered to himself,
He packed the tin tankard into his bag and slung the waterskin over his shoulder.
The forest shifted faster, the dead brown leaves swirled at his feet as the sun was blotted out by the gathering clouds.
He pulled his old leather robe upto the beard of grey stubble he had cultivated for many seasons, with his cloak flapping behind him like an insane shadow he set off at a pace towards the alluring safety of the castles walls.
The storm grew stronger, he would not make it to the garrison before the doors were closed. He remembered, the old guard tower ! He doubled his pace, his ancient sandals beating off the mud track like the beat of a minstrels drum spurring him onwards.
He flung back the splintered doors and fell onto the smooth stone floor just as the rain began to pelt the forests canopy.
Firewood was neatly cut and stacked by the small fireplace in the corner of the guardhouse, it was a welcoming site to the old friar, promptly tossing his bag into the opposite corner he began to work up a blaze.
A huge clap of thunder woke Stafford with a start, the homely crackle of the fire dampened as the doors swung open and a raging gust sapped the warmth from his body.
He was on his feet quarterstaff readied in a heartbeat, he recognized the black outline etched by the raging clouds and relaxed
"Damn'ed infiltrator ! you nearly gave an old fool a deadly fright !"
The small figure swept into the room like a passing shadow
"Hola Señor Stafford," it chirped as it set itself up in the remaining spare corner
"Lobogris !" Stafford dropped his weapon "had i not recognized you...."
The infiltrator laughed
"Relájese, Relax my old friend it is only me the Greywolf !"
"What brings you out on my road in these conditions," Stafford gestured upwards as he sat by the fire
"Chandelen told me you where wandering and as the storm picked up i came to look for you," The infiltrator brushed off his wet cloak before he carried on
"There where bárbaros spotted in the woods my friend,"
Lobogris pulled the hilt of a broken jambiya from his belt and tossed it into the light emitted by the now re-stoked fire
Stafford pulled his quarterstaff onto his lap, he tightened the leather bindings and checked the shodwork on the ends.
"Barbarians......." Staffords word trailed into a sigh as he let his staff slip from his fingers
"An old battletired briton can never get a minutes rest,"
Lobogris mashed his cloak into a pillow and led back
"We have the fire, and a storm to ride out, im sure your waterskin is full, though not with water ! " Lobogris grinned at the end of his sentence and seemingly conjoured a mug from nowhere.
Stafford filled his own tankard
he raised it to Lobogris's
"Cheers," Stafford said as he tapped the mugs together
"Salud ," answered the rogue
The old friar led back, it seemed battle would find him one final time.
enjoy
He sat alone atop the dusty track overlooking the valley. The deep green forests swayed rythmically as the cool breeze began to form a sharp edge,
"Storm" He muttered to himself,
He packed the tin tankard into his bag and slung the waterskin over his shoulder.
The forest shifted faster, the dead brown leaves swirled at his feet as the sun was blotted out by the gathering clouds.
He pulled his old leather robe upto the beard of grey stubble he had cultivated for many seasons, with his cloak flapping behind him like an insane shadow he set off at a pace towards the alluring safety of the castles walls.
The storm grew stronger, he would not make it to the garrison before the doors were closed. He remembered, the old guard tower ! He doubled his pace, his ancient sandals beating off the mud track like the beat of a minstrels drum spurring him onwards.
He flung back the splintered doors and fell onto the smooth stone floor just as the rain began to pelt the forests canopy.
Firewood was neatly cut and stacked by the small fireplace in the corner of the guardhouse, it was a welcoming site to the old friar, promptly tossing his bag into the opposite corner he began to work up a blaze.
A huge clap of thunder woke Stafford with a start, the homely crackle of the fire dampened as the doors swung open and a raging gust sapped the warmth from his body.
He was on his feet quarterstaff readied in a heartbeat, he recognized the black outline etched by the raging clouds and relaxed
"Damn'ed infiltrator ! you nearly gave an old fool a deadly fright !"
The small figure swept into the room like a passing shadow
"Hola Señor Stafford," it chirped as it set itself up in the remaining spare corner
"Lobogris !" Stafford dropped his weapon "had i not recognized you...."
The infiltrator laughed
"Relájese, Relax my old friend it is only me the Greywolf !"
"What brings you out on my road in these conditions," Stafford gestured upwards as he sat by the fire
"Chandelen told me you where wandering and as the storm picked up i came to look for you," The infiltrator brushed off his wet cloak before he carried on
"There where bárbaros spotted in the woods my friend,"
Lobogris pulled the hilt of a broken jambiya from his belt and tossed it into the light emitted by the now re-stoked fire
Stafford pulled his quarterstaff onto his lap, he tightened the leather bindings and checked the shodwork on the ends.
"Barbarians......." Staffords word trailed into a sigh as he let his staff slip from his fingers
"An old battletired briton can never get a minutes rest,"
Lobogris mashed his cloak into a pillow and led back
"We have the fire, and a storm to ride out, im sure your waterskin is full, though not with water ! " Lobogris grinned at the end of his sentence and seemingly conjoured a mug from nowhere.
Stafford filled his own tankard
he raised it to Lobogris's
"Cheers," Stafford said as he tapped the mugs together
"Salud ," answered the rogue
The old friar led back, it seemed battle would find him one final time.
enjoy