A Parched Throat

[sean66 272]

A Parched Throat

A Weekly Journal

Conducted by Elwin Gray

 

Serial 1 of 5

 

A canal of earth jutted through a small village contained in the lands of Man, its contents of rough dirt, cobbled stones, and jutting flora. The lane of dirt and stone quaked as an amassed body of four youth thundered forward into the quaint village. Their voices of a childlike giddy and their coin purses of a joyous jingle.  Their garbs not of steady stitch nor their hands of a soft touch. The straying path of disturbed earth jutting from a grassy landscape lead a precarious route to a inn of little renown, ‘The Strawberry Roan’.

 

The self assumed guide of the troop stood of a meager five foot and several inches, his skin pock marked, his gingered hair matted, a scruff about his chin, and weighing no more than 10 stones. His trade yet to be realized, but an apprentice to a Knife Eared fisher of fanciful garb; his baptised name being Karlson. Not far behind his step were his three companions in his simple life, Wilton a farmer’s son of wide girth, Lukas a club footed bumpkin, and Aric a simple hare trapper.

 

The group’s entrance to the triple roomed, and quite dingy, inn was met with a instant of a woman's harsh toned words, “Close the fuckin’ door before the winds take root in here!”

 

The group quickly gawked about the candled room which seemingly becalmed itself after the closing of the doorway behind them, and sought to no avail a table un-taken. Lukas’s club feet awkwardly dragged against the poor quality bleached flooring below that moaned in agony with each tremor of movement done upon it. The group’s presence was muted in the populated scene for which the inn was, men bearing the colors of Savoy clanked tankards together and thundered out stories of valor, peasantry pointed to their rotted teeth and laughed, and a solely one man sat alone and ran a handkerchief alongside his bruised left eye.

 

Wilton detached from his wayward grouping and sat on the bench opposite of the black eye’d man. Wilton’s cracked dry lips opened with the slightest tear of dead skin from his lower lip, “Oi, Ser where ye get that blemish? Ye brawl wit’ some mean Midget, or a cranky jackass catch ye good?”, the boy mused and followed his statement by thieving some peanuts from a bowl near the man’s tankard.

 

The group with an instant sprung to lodge their oxen friend away, a wave of apologies and pleading for forgiveness as they pulled on Wilton’s arms to break him free of the bench. As the bench began to shudder the most it fell from under the hayseed child, a loud crash and vibration causing a tankard to fall from a table’s edge. The tankard sloshing all of its content over the thigh of a Savoyard Serjeant.

 

Within a quick succession the Serjeant had Wilton to the floor with his knee over his extruding belly, and a cascading series of downward strikes at his face by the Serjeant. Wilton’s nose contorting wildly downward and to the right, his face like a pulped red apple, and the bangs of his hair scattered about the mess slowly filling with more tears and blood. A symphony of cheers and laughter from the small crowd which had formed about, drinking their ale as they gazed onward to the quickly growing still mass of flesh being beaten in.

 

A iron-enriched miasma taking hold of Wilton as his vision faded to a complete darkness. Awakening in a mildew laden field far off from the village, his whole body feeling drained to its core. His whole energy diverted to turning his head only to be met with a shallow gaze of the Savoyard Serjeant who lay next to him. A dagger embedded in in the side of his throat. A glazed dullness to his ever searching gaze which seemed to look towards Wilton’s very soul. Wilton's mouth gasping for air as his lungs began to rapidly flutter in a deep panic, a deep wheezing taking over the still air due to the lad's much parched throat.

 

Spoiler

Was gonna expand greatly upon this for some writing thing or another but got lazy and abandoned it. So decided to just clean it up and put it here to see if anyone likes it or has some criticisms. 

[Unslaughted 121]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

10/10

More please...

[DoomedDM 20]

Nice writing,

It makes you think about how simple life was for real persons in Medieval times and how interesting our chars are compared to real peasants.

[KetchenX 180]

My comment was removed.. How rude. Good job though man.

[Paleo 298]

Moved to The Great Library. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.

 

If you feel this is a mistake, please contact myself or any FM and we'll restore it.