yopplwasupxxx 5663 Share Posted March 29, 2019 An anonymous tale of a hedge knight named Dederick Varodyr during the Carrion-Chivay eras, in service to the Carrion dynasty during the age. It was written around the late 40s ES and early 50s ES (around 1490s AH), and is believed to either have been written as an autobiography or a second-account biography based on the real individual. (OOC: Full credit to Knox who wrote all these, posting these here for easier access. Links to his originals below: ) --- THE HEDGE KNIGHT, PARTS I-III WRITTEN BY THE HAND OF ANONYMOUS PUBLISHED BY HIEROMAR LUDOVAR THE ELDER, SSE --- PART I The road ahead was broken and the lands were barren, the forest ahead was withered and dead. An old man, accompanied by his squire set up camp for the upcoming night. “Ser, we’ve been travelling through these parts for the good part of a month, the witch will not return for some time.” The young squire exclaimed, lips curling into a vague frown. “Aye, that may be, but her accomplices still roam these woods, and we’re not leaving until we kill them.” The Ser answered, a stoic and cold expression appearing on his front. The squire sighs heavily, giving a light huff as he places a few twigs and branches from a decayed tree onto the growing fire, a few embers dancing upon the tree’s limbs upon impact. The young squire then speaks, blinking his weary orbs. “Ser, for some time now we haven’t been home to Petrus. No ravens bearing message, nor have we really spoken to any travellers on the roads in regards to news from the capital.” The old Knight unstraps his sword from it’s sash, placing the scabbard beside him. “I was ordered to deliver the emperors justice, as the High Auditor it is what I shall continue to do.” The knight spoke, his tone slow and precise. The young squire glanced briefly to the old knight with a look of confusion upon his visage, pondering for the moment whether the Knight was insane, or suffered extreme memory loss. He then cleared his throat, somewhat muttering unclearly “...Ser, The Chivay empire was in tatters by the crow when we left, I’d wager the Crow retook their throne. Which means we’re out of that oath.” The old knight gave a croaky grumble, clenching his digits tightly, his leather gloves that dressed his worn hands giving an irritating squeak. He then gave a feisty answer. “The crow may have released the Empire’s Knights from their oaths, though I full well intend to uphold mine.” The squire stands up, brushing himself down before cocking his head on the knight, stiffening his upper lip as he’d exclaim once more. “The old lords were either killed or fled, never to return, our job is finished. Though instead you intend to continue hunting down defenseless women in the name of the creator? There is no honor in that. For fifteen years we’ve travelled, and for all those years we’ve accomplished next to nout. I bet your older brother has accomplished more than we ever did. I’m headed home, no longer will I scrub your battered armour, clean your blooded sword or patch your wounds.” The young squire wanders off into the darkness of the night, his footsteps sounding fainter and fainter through every tread taken. As the morning approaches, the old hedge knight ambles back the way he came to find his squire who had abandoned him the night before. Whilst following the path, the old knight gazes towards the grimy ground to see footprints. He leans down to examine the paces. “Chain mailed boots.” he muttered to himself, pursing his lips before straightening them into a thin line, remembering that his squire wore tattered leather boots. The knight raised up, straightening his posture, rushing to try and catch up with his aide. In the nebulous distance, his old orbs make out what appears to be a thick rope hanging from a crumbling tree, a few unclear voices being heard afar along with a callous scream. The old hedge knight proceeds to slowly make his way into the tree line to approach the said voices. As he gets closed, his ears perk up, hearing some chatter coming from a group of men. “To whom do you serve boy? King Andrik? The Canons?!” The young squire shrieked fearfully “I do not know what you’re on about! I swear!”. The old knight decides to approach somewhat closer, his paces cautious, catching the words of the opposing men clearly. “We fought for Maric in the battle of Crow’s folly, we were present when our Lord Godfrey took the capital. We killed the boy Roy, and now we’ll kill you.” In desperation, the squire calls out loudly, tears rushing down his lithe and subtle cheekbones. “The High Auditor! I serve the Auditor to the Empire of Oren!” The men look to each other laughing roughly, broad leers forming upon their lips as they’d call back. “The empire is dead, King Andrik sits on the throne now.” The hedge knight debates whether to leave his squire for the remarks he said the night before, but instead emerges from the shadows, swiftly drawing his battered blade, a rasp bursting through the tree line as the sword is drawn from it’s scabbard. “Ser! Ser! Save me.” the squire hollered and squealed, pleading for help. The three men turn briskly on their heels, chortling at the old knight. “Is this some form of joke or trick? How’s an old wretched rat like you going to beat three men? Do you have an army hidden behind that tree?” Continuing to chuckle lightly, the old knight walks towards the men, taking an offensive stance, the one handed blade held by his waist area, his left foot sliding behind his right pivoted one, before he’d exclaim ruggedly “Before I kill you, may I take your names?” The men stop snickering, swiftly drawing each of their own blades, stating their worthless names. “Ser Halferik of Dragonspeak.” the first man said. “Ser Mathius Winchester” the second said. “Jory, a sergeant to the former kingdom of Renatus.” The old Knight places his right hand onto his old blade, holding it with two hands with a firm grip, before snarling at the trio. “Ser Halferik of Dragonspeak, Ser Mathius Winchester, Jory. I sentence you to death.” The three men snigger once more before approaching the old Knight. The sound of swords slashing and clashing against each other in the yonder are heard, the sound of pained screams and yelps following. The battle was over, and the old knight strolls forth to the young Mathius Winchester, his worn out armor clanking with each pace taken. Mathius turns onto his injured back, raising his hands in defence to protect his dirty face, panting as he’d speak to the old knight “W-Who are you? Let me live! M-m-mercy!” The old knight grips his bloodied blade with both of his hands, digits cramped over each other as he’d hold it steadily, before raising it swiftly up, driving it down in an erect downwards jab to thrust it cleanly through Mathius’ chest, reeling his head back and spitting a good amount of saliva into the man’s face, before growling “I am Ser Dederick Varodyr, the high auditor to former Justicar Lothar.” The High Auditor, Dederick proceeds to wipe the blood off his shabby foil on the expired grass beside the men he slaughtered, before sheathing it into it’s equally used scabbard, marching forth to his tied up squire, freeing him from the bindings as they make their way to Oren. --- PART II The Hedge Knight and his squire journey through the pitch-black woods, their boots trekking through the mucky mire. Whilst walking the two converse, the squire questioned the Knight, a puzzled expression settling on his young visage. “Ser, whose Maric?” The Knight retorts as he continues marching through the sludge mud, a steely look upon his face. “Maric was my older brother. A gallant warrior, women adored him, men wanted to be him. It was never easy for me being the brother to a man of such renown. Though, he was genuinely a good man for the most part of things, and always told me after our father died that family came first, no matter what.” The squire sported a wry frown on his lips, before stammering lightly, inquiring once more, “W-will you ever see him again?” The Knight gave a ragged exhale, stiffening his upper lip as he’d clench his fists, replying. “I don’t really know, it has been many years. He probably married, had children, lives in a keep on a hill perhaps. Maric always seemed to get what he wanted, and had his methods to going about getting them.” Later, in the afternoon, the two reached an uninhabited part of the woods. The Knight tasks his squire with setting up rabbit snares, whilst the Knight heads to the local stream to collect water. At the stream, the old Knight seats himself on a small riverbank, pondering for a moment, lost in his thoughts. Suddenly his ears perk up at the footsteps of a beast approaching, as he ***** his head up he notices a chestnut stallion. The horse seemed tamed and disciplined, which is probably why it never made haste. Dedrick raises onto his feet and carefully paces over to the steed, sliding a hand into his pocket to pull out an apple, feeding it gracefully to the horse as he pats it’s neck. The knight proceeds then to examine the horse for any branding, to figure out if the horse has an owner. Seeing nothing but the saddle itself settled on the steed’s back, he’d shrug his shoulders, slowly making his way to sit upon the horse. The stallion did not struggle, as the old knight placed his feet into the saddle’s stirrups, delicately taking hold of the reins. The steed neighed once, patting it’s hooves on the fresh grass. The Knight returns to his squire, who has caught three meaty hares. During the evening the duo skin and prepare the catch. As the two are eating the meat, using their hands, not carrying any cutlery, the squire darts his gaze to the knight with a wry leer. “So how was it that you became the High Auditor?” , then biting into the thigh of the cooked hare once he had spoken. Dederick places his plate slowly to his right side, wiping his old fingers on a nearby patch of grass before placing his hands behind his head, chewing on his last bit of food as he’d think for a brief moment, clearing his throat, then pursing his lips before speaking “This goes back to the land of the Thales, I was a predominant young noble with the right second name. My brother and I fought for Oren against the snow elves, we sacked their city and razed it to the ground. The Justicar Lothar took an interest in my sense of duty and way of justice, I squired for him after that, until he was slain. Boris Carrion then came into his seat of Justicar and appointed me the High Auditor officially.” Dederick explains, before continuing his story, taking a small swig of his goblet that rested filled with cheap wine. “My brother offered me to assist him with his Order and I refused, stating that the Empire needed me more than he did.” The squire glanced to the ground, frowning ever so slightly, blinking his orbs, before slowly mumbling, “Those men you killed said they followed a man called Maric, and they were knights…” Dedrick slowly places his arms on his upper legs, before answering, “Indeed, they did. These lands are far from Oren, which means they were more than likely traitors, using my brother’s name to get away with which ever crime they wished.” The following morning, the two continue down the path until they come to green prairie, tired and weary after a long night. Afar, they notice a small hamlet, slowly approaching it. As they make their way, they discuss with the locals the where abouts of the local town. After helping the local peasantry with easy tasks, the two set for the local township. Upon reaching the gates of the town, an old man, with large bags under his eyes, a scraggly beard draped on his jaw. He’d glare suspiciously at the two men, before shouting croakily down to the two, squinting his hoary orbs “Halt! Who goes there?” Dederick stands firmly, his back erected straight, lowering his hand to the hilt of his sword, his worn digits curling lightly around it, his squire standing behind him. Dedrick would then clear his throat, before exclaiming loudly, making sure the old lad would hear them, “Harys of Vekaro and my travelling companion Duncan.” The old man peers over the edge of the wooden palisade, observing the duo with his aged orbs. He briefly licks his grizzled lips, before mumbling somewhat clearly “Aye, what brings you to these parts?” Dedrick would flare his nostrils, before speaking once more, his tone kept cold and stern, “Witch-hunters looking for two beds for the evening.” The doddery gentleman grabs a pair of keys, shaking them around, the sound of metal rattling bursting through the short range. He then paces forth, his steps quiet and calm, though he’d show a sign of a frail limp. As he’d reach the gatehouse, he’d yank down the lever, the rusty gate slowly peering open,. The aged male would mutter once more, pursing his lips, “The tavern is in the center of the town, I would advise you not to travel around the town during the night.” Dedrick would bob his head briefly, striding inside, his squire faintly dipping his head and following after Dedrick. Dedrick takes a seat with his squire, ears perked up high at the loud atmosphere, cheery shanties heard about, and the giggles of drunk men and women. After taking a heavy swig from a wooden tankard, filled with dirt cheap ale, the front door grates open, the elderly lad from before trekking inside, before slumping into a seat by Dedrick’s table, he’d then inquire slowly, clearing his throat “So, where ‘ye lads from?” Dedrick darts his eyes briefly to his squire, before turning his attention back to the aged male, stating vaguely, “We’re heartlanders, from the Empire of Oren.” before sitting upright and respectably. The gray haired man widens his orbs, before responding with, “Oren ‘ye say? I ‘eard some knight fellow plunged the empire into chaos, took most his bannermen and Knights then waged a war for independence.” Dedrick bites faintly on his upper lip, drifting his mind once more, recalling what the Knights he slew said. “Maric.” he says in his head. Dedrick would then speak up, snapping out of his pondering, his tone clear and firm, “The war is probably still on going, I have a duty to my family but I also have a duty to the Empire…” He’d pause for a moment before inquiring with little emotion, “Where can I buy a horse around here?” The senile chap rolls his shoulder outwards in the sign of a shrug before replying, “There ‘ain't been a horse in old Buck’s stable for many years now.” Dedrick gives an irritated grumble, tilting his head to his squire, who seems rather shocked by Maric’s recent words. Dedrick would then proceed to order with a serious tone, wrinkling his doddering nose, “Tomorrow you will take the horse, along with it a message to my brother.” The squire would speak up, stiffening his lower lip, before questioning Dedrick, “But Ser, what about you?” Dederick would briefly scratch his chin, bobbing his head to himself before responding, “I will follow along the road, send word to my brother then travel back along the same road. Do not stop for anybody.” --- PART III Along the soiled dirt road, the sight of large tents and a campfire with a humble smoke hovering over it. Dederick strolls forth to the camp, his tired orbs darting at a female Paladin, and a dark elf. He approaches the duo, inquiring briefly after “May I take a seat, this journey has been long and tiresome. The two glance at each other, before the young blonde with blue ribbons in her hair motions with her open palm at a tree stump. Dederick seats himself on the stump, letting his worn hands loom over the trickling embers, sighing wearily. The female proceeds to sharpen her blade, whilst the dark elf tightens the string on his sturdy bow. Lucius grinds his teeth wildly together, mumbling to himself “Bloody Iblees, and his servants of darkness”. “Vilius will be back soon. Hopefully he’s tracked the beast.” The female says, chuckling lightly. Dederick raises a brow, “Beast? What type of beasts lurk these parts?” displaying a curious look upon his face. The girl looks, smirking sarcastically “The type that kill old men.” Dederick laughs dryly “There’s nothing out there that hasn’t tried to kill me already.” The woman leans in for a moment, glaring into Dederick’s grey eyes. “I feel like we’ve met before, I’m Licia, the elf’s called Lucius.” The elf hisses quietly , inclining his head at the old knight. Dederick would go to present himself, though he’d stop once being hissed at “I’m Dede-” “Licia, Lucius. We move out this instant. I’ve spotted the giant by the stream!” Dederick exclaimed with a stern and ordering voice. Lucius rises up on his nimble feet, rushing off into the tree line, sliding the quiver over his right shoulder, grasping his bow a second later. Licia frowns crookedly, before raising upon her feet, marching after Lucius, pace firm and quick. Dederick tilts his head around the camp, finding some rope and an axe. He’d curl his fingers around the wooden shaft of the axe, slinging the rope over his back before trotting after Licia and Lucius. The three reach the location of the giant, quickly grabbing it’s attention. Lucius swiftly notches a barbed arrow into his bow, yanking the string firmly back, before releasing. Licia on the other hand unsheathes her short sword from the scabbard, unleashing a fiery fire surrounding the blade. The arrow would stick shallowly into the giant’s gut, doing next to no damage, though black goo seeps from the scratch looking wound. Licia urges for Lucius to continue firing… meanwhile Vilius catches his breath, glaring at the unfolding scene on, charging towards the with a rusty pike in hand. The constant shadows of arrows flying above him, he aims his pike upwards, skewing the giant’s lower leg causing it to scream in agony, stumbling onto it’s right knee before reeling his club back, swinging it at Vilius, ramming him into the ground, splattering him there, blood and limbs scattering about. Licia sprints forth to the giant, jabbing her slim blade forward aiming to thrust it cleanly through his gut, as the beast attempts to rise to it’s feet. In a single jab of her sword, she rips into the skin of the giant, causing a the oil-based goo to ignite, setting the giant aflame. In a fit of anger, the giant raises onto his injured feet, flailing his wooden club around ferociously at Licia and Lucius.. The club slams into Lucius that is currently notching his last arrow into his loose bow. He’d yelp brutally, the large branch colliding with his lower waist area, before tossing him at a nearby tree, before he’d be impaled by a branch, the wood rippling through his stomach. Lucius blinks his orbs once or twice, before he’d press both of his hands against the wood, spitting out a large amount of saliva mixed with blood, his eyes shutting. Licia glares fearfully around, a shocked expression resting upon her visage. She’d then start to scream “Help, please!” The forest around her bursts into large flames, fumes beginning to overwhelm her, the air around her become toxic and hazardous to breathe. Her ignited sword grows cold as she crashes into the mucky ground, now in an unconscious state. Dederick crawls carefully to the bottom of the valley, tying a rope to a boulder near him, pulling at it as hard as he could. The giant turns his head, shouting in clear pain, swinging his colossal club carelessly about, Vilius’ left arm flying somewhere. The old knight slowly paces forth to the beast, whistling at it in order to draw its attention. The giant turns on his tired feet, shouting hoarsely “You cannot best me! Not even puny fire will kill me!” Dederick grips the hilt of his longsword, a rasp heard from it’s sturdy scabbard before he’d shout back, his voice booming and cold “Come for me beast, come for me and be struck down for the monstrosity that you are!” The giant stomps towards Dedrick, the ground shaking with each loud step. Dederick takes a few paces back, stepping beneath the rope he had set up earlier. The giant bursts into cheery laughter, grasping the shaft of his club with two hands, meaty and greasy fingers curling around it before he’d raise it, ready to crush it onto Dedrick, which was already in a mid-diagonal swing, the sword making contact with the rope... The rope snaps under the force of the blade, dropping a large spiked log behind the giant, piercing it through the giant’s right chest, gore spurting out of, before it’d give a screechy roar upon being defeated, collapsing onto it’s knees, the wooden club gliding out of his hands before he’d fall face front onto the ground, a large pool of blood forming under his titanic weight, before he’d mumble softly as Dederick paced forth, driving his orbs at Dederick, before his pupils die out “Oluf, killed by a log… And tri-” Dederick hovers above the defeated beast, performing the Lorraine cross, clenching his bloodied fist before pecking his backhand lightly, before rushing off, longsword still held. The old man presses a ragged cloth around his mouth, storming into the smoke to find the survivors, only seeing a scorched forest before him. Amongst the ashes, Licia lays, and a beam of sunlight shined over her. He’d march towards her, sheathing his blade before gripping her arms, descending into darkness. Dederick cleans Licia’s wounds with much care, then laying her in an abandoned hovel before carving a note into the beam above the front door “Ser Dederick Varodyr. Find me upon my return.” He’d pace out of the chantey, leaving the concussed woman in the slum, giving an exhausted exhale. 2 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Knox 1027 Share Posted May 22, 2020 still probably one of my most favourite characters to this date. 1 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
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