The Fall of Another House

[ayresalex 517]

The Norsem standard whipped and cracked in the wind, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Norsem turns from the battlements and gaze at his company below him. A mixture of archers, spearmen, swordsmen, and a few knights dotted throughout the ranks of infantry. An uneasy atmosphere was dominant at Stoneguard, as they all knew they were most likely going to die. Norsem nods, wryly grinning while looking at his men,

"You're undieing loyalty will earn your spot in the afterworld, boys."

He turns back around, facing the Inquisitor army that lay in the shadow of Stoneguard. He spots three riders bearing a white flag riding towards the gates. Without taking his eyes off them, he turns to his squire,

"Ready my horse."

Norsem mounts his enarmoured warhorse, and set out of the gates with a small detachment of bannermen. Riding to meet the Inquisitors halfway.

Norsem comes to a halt, his men falling in behind him, and studies each of them. One of them surely had to be the Emperors son, but could not tell which.

"Norsem, your men do not have to die with you. Let them live, and face your death an honourable man," one Inquisitor snarled.

"Oh, I'd rather not. These claims are fabricated. I have no such dealings with selling these relics. Nor did I know they were of religious importance. You want your ugly stones? Talk to that "Count" Amador. Corrupt bastard he is."

Another Inquisitor sighs, gripping his reigns, "Orders still stand, you are to die today. Whether you go peacefully, or with distaste, it won't matter."

Norsem leans foward, a smile enveloping his face,

"My men are willing to die at their own will. I gave them a choice, they decided to stay and fight you corrupt bastards."

The first Inquisitor sneers,

"So be it."

The trio reigned their horses to the opposite direction and galloped off back to their lines.

Norsem grimaced, This will not fare well...

He jerked back his horse, and trotted back to the gates

[ayresalex 517]

The dust that the boulder kicked up enveloped his men. The Inquisitors seige weapons had been doing their dirty work day and night for the past three days. Food supplies would still last the garrison another week or so, but Norsem's bannermen were dwindling everyday. Some had died, some had bolted off in the dead of night.

"Cowards..." Norsem scowled

"M'lord?" Masus turned and gave him a questioning look

Irritably, he said, "Nothing."

Masus, reassured, rocked back on his heels, looking over the battlements with Norsem at the Inquisitor army below, started grinning and nodding

"What're you laughin' at then Masus?"

"Sir," he said with a laugh, "These damned holy men won't relent, will they?"

Norsems face darkened, and turned back over the battlements,

"No."

[ayresalex 517]

"Ladders! Ladders!"

Norsem bolted out of the keep, and onto the walls, sure enough, the Inquisitors had begun their first, and not final assault. He knew of the Inquisitors fighting ability, and feared for his men. The Norsem bannermen were made up of good hardened northerners, but Norsem felt it wasn't enough.

"What I'd do for a few experienced archers..." He muttered

He made it the the gatehouse, and unsheathed his sword and raised it over his head,

"Men, O men! Rally beneath our standard and fight for your cause! YOUR cause! Not Orens, not the Emperors, nay not mine! But your own! Die willingly or with sword in hand! Rally!"

The Norsem battlecry was echoed throughout the courtyard and walls

"Archers! Give 'em a volley!"

Rhekton Elkaxe raised his axe, commanding the archers, and gestured it foward. The archers loosed their arrows, and soon a good amount of Inquisitors were filled with goosefeathers.

Norsem shouted in enthrallment, and gestured for another volley. Norsem's excitement quickly turned into fear, as the Inquisitors unleashed a volley of their own, quickly filling the sky with flaming arrows, boulders, and ballistae rounds. Screams of pain in agony dominated the air as the projectiles hit their mark.

"Shite! M'lord! They're raising their ladders!"

"Fuckin' hell..." His shocked gaze slowly turned from his men that were hit to the situation aforehand.

"Men!!!" He screamed.

"Draw! Swords!"

The icy noise of swords and axes coming from their sheathes quickly filled the air over the screams of their fallen comrades.

"When they come over our walls, give those bastards hell!"

Vulgar shouts were flung out in a truly brilliant and admirable manner.

"It's come to this m'lord, let us dance," he said to no one in particular at all.

[ayresalex 517]

Jon Norsem grimaced as his bloody sword drew away from the body of a fallen Inquisitor. Killing was a dirty buisness, he never relished in it, but it was nessesscary in his case. His father taught him bet-

An Inquisitor was barreling towards Norsem with sword raised. Norsem lowered his shoulder, and brought his sword back as far as he could, then brought underneath his chest as soon as the Inquisitor was close enough. Blood cascaded out of the Inquisitors mouth as if it were a waterfall, falling on Norsems already bloodied and dirtied tabard. Norsem sighed, and again drew his arming sword out of the lifeless body.

He looked around the walls, his first time since the fighting began as he was too busy, well, fighting. His sea of Norsem tabrds seemed dominant over of those that were of the Inquisitors. Norsem grinned, his white teeth showing through his grimy face,

"We've 'eld 'em."

Masus Oxlade came running up the stairs, slipping on the blood at the top, but quickly caught himself and made himself as presentable as he could,

"M'lord, we've seem to have beaten them back..."

Norsem grins and nods,

"We live to live another da-"

The arrow seemed to come from no where, it sunk deep into Norsems neck, blood running as thick as dwarven ale. Norsem gingerly lifted his right hand to his neck, a stunned and dumbfounded look upon his face as blood began to slowly leak at of his mouth. Norsem's knees began to buckle under him, whilst Masus's face turned to one of shock and disbelief.

Norsem hit the floor hard. At first he felt a warm sensation in his neck, and then he felt the pain. Norsem then felt nothing at all.

[ayresalex 517]

Ah.. Inspiration. Norsem had a good run. Fun to play as well. I now begin my new journey as another northern badass, modeling him after Liam Neeson. Look for him in Pruvia, no?

Leave comments about my little story below!

[]

[Shar'ku/jenspelao 410]

I only need 1 word to describe it: Amazing

[Kickstarted and Running 965]

Pretty sweet man ()

[Chaqery 427]

The sounds of horns broke the smoldering silence over the battlefield. Upon the horizon a banner crested, on it bearing the Heraldry of the Inquisition. A small column of soldiers, dawned in the Imperial purple and black, sauntered in formation about the banner, making their way to the gates of the battle-scarred fortress.

Lord Inquisitor Toov's amber eyes seemed to glow through the slits in his helmet like red hot coals in a furnace. The very air about him rippled with soft heat waves, and the other Inquisitor's stood visibly separate from the embodiment of his anger.

"Zhis vill NOT do. I order zhe assault to be belayed. Zhose forces vere to dissolve immediately, until zhe charges brought against Lord Norsem could be fully, und zhoroughly investigated."

"Relax Baldir. The situation will be sorted out.", came the response of the second Lord Inquisitor, Blood, as he gingerly patted the tower of a man on the pauldron.

"Nein. Zhat vill not do. I vant zhe men responsible for carrying out zhis attack found und dealt vith. A total breach of protocol by zhese.. remnants of zhe former Inquisition. I vant to know who gave zhem zhe final assault order. I vill not abide such... slaughter, vithout verified evidence broguht to court. ESPECIALLY in zhe case of nobility like Norsem!"

With his anger having flared out a bit, Toov pounded upon the closed gates of the Norsem fotress.After a rattle of chains and the large thuds of barricades being displaced, the gate creaked open. Behind it, the soldiers of House Norsem stood in formation, weapons drawn in preparation to defend against these new agents of the Inquisition. The gesture brought a smirk to Toov's face, as he dismissed their concerns with the wave of a hand.

"Sheath zhem. Ve are not here to finish zhe job. I vould've enlisted zhe aid of a Knightly Order if zhat vas mein purpose. Vhere is Jon Norsem? I owe him an apology for zhis... inexcusable mistake."

"He's... gravely wounded, m'lord Inquisitor. I don't think he'll make it through the night..." Oxlade managed to murmur, gesturing to the Lord's Hall. Growling a bit in anger, Toov gave a nod, and quickly lumbered off in the direction of the injured lord. Before he even made it through the main door (past the dumbfounded guards, mind you) he began tugging off his heavy gauntlets. Under them his hands were faintly gathering a glow, which increased by the time he tugged open the door to the wounded Jon Norsem's bedchamber.

The nobleman managed a faint smile, noting the large, unmistakable feature he had met only once or twice before.

"Die Willingly or With Sword in Hand..."sputtered the nobleman, with what sounded like one of his last few breaths. Lord Inquisitor Toov chuckled, shaking his head as he removed his large helmet.

"I von't let you go zhat easily, Norsem. Zhere's still zhe matter of your investigation... und now zhe investigation of zhose who ordered zhis attack upon you vithout my approval.

Come. Let us bring you from zhe edge of death."

At these words, the Lord Inquisitor drew close, gently wrapping his large hands around the poorly bandaged and blood soaked hole in the side of his neck where the arrow had once been. The room was filled with the low sound of what seemed reminiscent of a holy chant. It lay heavy on the air, dripping with the holy magic being called upon for such an occasion.

The light shone... and faded. A cycle that continued for what must have seemed like years, was over in about half an hour. As the process stopped, and with it the chanting, the towering figure of the Lord Inquisitor stumbled backwards into the bedside chair. With a heavy thud he sat, in waiting. The injury was healed, but there was still an important role for rest and natural healing to take place. He was content though. The disaster had been at least somewhat averted. His anger and retribution would have to be sought out another time... he was much to tired for petty thoughts wasted upon petty people..

There was a place for truth in Oren. For an end to the political corruption that seeped into every corner.

This was the first step.

Emperor Protect.

[Redbaron™ 690]

This was a really good read, a shame Jon died before Lancels return.

[ayresalex 517]

Norsem awoke blurrily to the images of his men dragging him down the steps, he was wide eyed, blood still running down out of his mouth. His unkempt beard and sweaty, dirty face drooped onto his right shoulder as he was hoisted up onto a table for his wounds to be tended. He faded in and out of conciousness as his men scrambled to find a healer or a doctor.

He awoke to find himself staring at a mixture of Rose and Inquisitor men. His eyes focused on the one in the center, Toov.

Stupid bastard...

He raised a gauntleted hand, with much effort breathing out,

"Die Willingly or With Sword in Hand."

Toov said something unintelligible to Norsem, and Norsem faded back into the darkness, into a sleep that he'll probably not wake up from.

[ayresalex 517]

Norsem wakes with a jolt, his eyes adjusting to the sunlight. He attempts to look around to his surroundings, but is stopped by the severe pain in his neck. Norsem groans and rests his head back on the pillow. He hears a deep throaty chuckle emit from someone close,

"Zat vill not do..."

Norsem closes his eyes, and meakly manages,

"Toov... what happened?"

"Yew took an arrow to ze neck, my friend. A q'vite nasty v'uund."

"Too right," he groans.

Norsem tenderly reached for his neck, to find a bloody and stinking bandage. Norsem takes a whiff at it then reels back as much his body will let him constrain.

Toov laughs,

"It vill heal, v'eree soon friend."

"Let's 'ope," Norsem managed, "What of my men then? Did they survive?"

Toov nods solemly,

"Ja, my men are treatin' zem as ve speak..."

Norsem relaxes, and collapses back on the stretcher, more relieved.

"Where are you taking me then?"

"Zhe Rose Headquarters.. You and your men vill be treated vif' vull care zhere..."

Norsem could only hope...

[Chaqery 427]

"Velcome back to zhe vorld of zhe living."

With a chuckle, the towering figure of Toov stood from his nearby seat. His Inquisition tabard settled with the motion, smoothing out the wrinkles, and the giant man took the opportunity to stretch out his limbs a bit in order to loosen his armor again. Through the bedroom's window, smoke curled lazily towards the sky, a swirling, dark reminder of the siege that had taken place recently. Soldiers bearing House Norsem colours stood in clusters chatting, the occasional notice of a figure in purple and black among them. Towards the charred gate a single Inquisitorial tent had been pitched, which was now being used as a field hospital.

Heavy, Imperial issue boots thudded across the floorboards, ceasing as Toov halted before the window. Clasping his hands behind his back, he focused his gaze out into the courtyard.

"I have sent a request to zhe Lords Chivay. Zhey, und zhe Vhite Rose are your only hope for protection vhile zhis investigation is followed zhrough. Just because I called off zhe forces laying siege to your fortress doesn't mean you are free from investigation. Zhe claims of heresy placed upon your house vere razher severe, and even if zhey might be lies, it is my duty as an Inquisitor to follow up on zhem. So too must I seek to discover who vent against mein orders und assaulted you.

I vill ask you once, Lord Norsem. Is zhere truth behind zhese claims of heresy? You know I have spared you zhus far, und zhat I respect zhe zhings you have done for Oren und zhe Emperor. So, do not make me a fool for mein kind gesture und lie to me. It vould truly be a shame to see such a family as House Norsem to be tarnished, but I do intend to take zhis seriously. So please, tell me zhe whole truth of zhe matter so zhat I might at least ease my conscience for mein actions in protecting you."

With these words, the large frame of the Lord Inquisitor continued to gaze out the window. With silent patience he awaited a further explanation from Jon Norsem.

[ayresalex 517]

A single word emitted from Lord Norsems mouth,

"No."

Norsem sat himself up, his whole body ached with pain, but the healers and doctors had done an excellent job 'fixing' him.

"When I was knighted, I was tasked with taking two islands off the coast of the Holy Lands... Count Amador simply wanted more land, nothing less, nothing more. I conquested both of these islands, and took residense on the northern most one. What we found were half built structures, pagan churches and symbols, as well as books explaining the previous religions books, and a giant boulder of strange rock. I was never told that this was a holy item, nor informed after I sold it in the market place in Arethor.

These claims against me... I deny them all. That rock was neither holy nor religious. I sold it, I will admit to that. But these claims... made up and fabricated... a useful means to get rid of me. Lord Norsem, from the ranks of nobility throughout Oren..."

Norsem sighs, saying those words expended extreme amounts of willpower and energy from him.

"If you want names, here they are. Count Amador, Lord Elendil, The Silverblade family, and Talos. Talk to them..."

[Chaqery 427]

The response produced merely a nod from the silhouette of the Lord Inquisitor. He remained silent for a few minutes, contemplating the news placed in his hands. Glancing back over his shoulder, he took note of Norsem weakly sprawled upon the bed.

"Duly noted. It is not zhe place of zhe Inquisition to take part in zhe Nobility's petty squabbles, however. Zhe Emperor is so far above zheir politics zhat ve are only to interfere in matters zhat zhreaten zhe Empire as a whole. Ve can speak more of zhese names you have mentioned anozher time.

Vith zhat said, I ceased zhe extermination of your forces because, mostly, zhe attackers vent against mein orders. On zhe uder side zhough, zhe elimination of House Norsem for purely politically purposes risks ruining zhe balance of power in zhe Nobility.

Lord Norsem, it seems to me zhat your power has faded severely. It remains to be seen zhus far vhether or not zhat is due to your own actions, but I strongly advise zhat you seek to improve zhis situation. Vhat lands are you in possession of? Vhat numbers have you in your forces? Vhat sort of political standings have you vith ozher prominent nobles? I vill not have risked mein own neck in your protection to furzher vitness your house crumble due to incompetency. Zhe Vhite Rose vas a bit offended by your request for aid in zhat little spat vith Elendil. If you ask me you vere both being foolish und arrogant in your nonchalant breach of zhe Emperor's peace. Asking such reinforcement from lords who vere at zhe time vassals of Elendil placed zhem in a very bad situation.

Perhaps it is time you bury zhe hatchet vith Elendil? His lands are plagued by Rhodir raiders, und surely zhe addition of your forces vould help relations zhere. Additionally, zhe Lords Chivay vere not pleased to have you place zhem in such a position, as I said. A bit of good can go a long vay politically. It's high time ve fix your standings vithin zhe realm. Zhen, perhaps, zhey vould not seek to place charges of heresy against you to be rid of you."

The words had fully revolved Toov, and he now stood with his back to the window, gaze fixed upon Norsem. Despite the bluntness of his words, his face displayed no signs of anger, offense, or ever frustation. It was neutral, suggesting a calm observation of fact.

[ayresalex 517]

Lord Norsem sighs, adverting his eyes from the silhouette from Toov.

"I was irrational, aye. But the man's a fool. I won't be enemies. But we won't be friends...

As for the land... I co-rule Stoneguard with Tarus... and I have my two islands still off the coast of the holy lands.. My men? Diminished. Dead. Routing. I have no coin to pay them with, nor home for them to rest their heads. They're good loyal men, but I don't blame them for leaving... My political standing is a joke. My ways were... unconventional. They do not hold me with high reguard. The situation is dire. But aye... if you hadn't called off the forces, it easily could've turned into a civil war.."

Norsem seems weary, tired, and thinking all at once. His words are unorganized and scattered. He lies weary on the starchy bed roll, waiting his response.