#darkdice | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cold-stars-with-lemonade · 3 years

Text

Dark Dice Fanfiction-”A Burial in the Dead Pines”

“A Burial in the Dead Pines”

By Dean S. Withers

The dried pool of red snow under the hanging weight of flesh made it quite clear that the cadaver’s suffering had long since ended. This did little to soften the sobs of the new widow who watched the body sway in what little breeze the Dead Pines offered. With such sparse moonlight from the skies, sometimes the woman felt as though she’d mistaken the identity of the corpse. It wouldn’t be the first time such a thing happened in the Dead Pines, as in these days corpses rarely swung alone.

The widow drew back as a large man, a giant borne of ice and steel, strode forward and grasped the dangling corpse. Without a sound, the eight foot tall Goliath gently withdrew a flint axe from his hide-covered torso and swung at the rope holding the body to the tree. The rope snapped and, as the widow tried to glimpse the corpse’s face, the moonlight hid again, and she was left in darkness.

A strike of flint, and a small flame sprung to life on a torch in the Goliath’s free hand. The flint axe had been tucked back into the Goliath’s robes. The gigantic grey humanoid turned the torchlight carefully over the cadaver’s still face. The widow turned away, her broken heart from recognition providing all the confirmation the giant needed. He slung the cadaver over his shoulder, held out the torch to his left, and began scanning for an easy place to dig. Seeing a possible clearing far ahead, the Goliath lumbered forward with the widow trailing carefully behind him.

As he walked, the Goliath called Kane turned his face away to escape the corpse’s smell. As he walked, his torch revealed the shadow of another body hanging just above him. Kane huffed, and swung his torch to the right, revealing a gap between the trees. Kane began to trod in the new direction, his snowshoes making large prints in the increasingly shallow snow.

A wink of moonlight unveiled the pines before him, and as the Goliath looked upwards he saw clouds in the shape of the mountains that reminded him of his former abode.

Like all Goliaths born in the Coldgrip Mountain range, Kane had three names, two of which were given two names at birth; Kane, his first, and Vaien-Tal, his clan name. The Vaien-Tal clan were renowned hunters, skilled enough at their trade to supply themselves with more than enough food to survive the unstable mountaintop seasons. This secure supply of food allowed the Vaien-Tal to grow to a population of one hundred members--a staggering number considering that the average number for other mountain clans was forty. Within the prosperous Vaien-Tal, Kane was seen as possessing a strong “second sense” for tracking the paths of mountain game (such as snowrams or great eagles). This innate gift of having a hunter’s nose and brain gave Kane great potential in the hunting-focused clan. However, this great potential could only be earned through the fire of Goliath competition.

Like most Goliaths, Kane was initially fully accepting of the brutal inter-clan world of competition. In the clan, every task, no matter how small, was an opportunity to prove your worth above the rest. For instance, fetching freshwater a footstep faster than a friend made one the best qualified Goliath in the entire clan to transport water. The friend who just made second, on the other hand, would be seen as never being trustworthy enough with getting water again--unless, of course, they managed to be faster the next time. For Kane, every task involving the tracking and slaying of delicious animals was a task to excel at, for excellence in the clan would lead to earning a third name. The third name functioned as a kind of nickname that would demonstrate one’s value within Goliath society. For instance, if one was to be above all others in finding fresh water, the third name “Fastsprings” could be given to them--as could the nickname “Drywell” for the failure of the same. Kane had once had such a socially potent third name. But now, he bore one of shame.

The veiling of the moon by the clouds focused Kane’s mind into the present. He glanced behind him to see the widow struggling to follow him in the shallow snow. The mountain giant was puzzled by this, as his snowshoes seemed hardly necessary in the light snowdrifts, until he swung his torchlight around to get a better gaze on the widow’s attire. The Golaith watched as her silky wet slippers sank into the snow with every step. She was clearly some kind of nobility and was therefore totally unequipped for a lengthy trek in the winter-sieged forest. It was a wonder how she’d made it this far into the Dead Pines at all. The giant recalled her earlier appearance and realized that when she had initially approached him in Illmater’s Hope about cutting her husband down, she had been incognito. Or, perhaps the poor torchlight behind the empty shop had obscured the widow’s wealthy status.

Wealth. It was such a new concept to the giant. For Kane’s old clan, wealth was comparable only to the skills a clan member could utilize. Money was never used in Goliath society, as banking is rather difficult to conduct in frigid mountaintops, and possession of currency did little to fight off starvation in a world devoid of reliable markets. Here, the exorbitant prices paid for the widow’s current wardrobe did nothing to help her current situation. In contrast, Kane had made his own snowshoes and was prospering as a result.

Kane watched the noblewoman struggle in the snowdrifts before planting his torch into the snow. After a moment’s hesitation, the Goliath began to untie his snowshoes. They’d be unwieldy for her, but she’d keep up much better shuffling on top of the snow than she would sinking into it. As the first snowshoe came off, the ex-mountaineering giant thought of the implications such actions had borne on him in the past. He’d helped someone else before, albeit someone he’d cared quite deeply about. And that act had cost him.

The hunt that led to his first nickname had begun as any other ordinary hunt for Kane Vaien-Tal. The Goliath had ventured far from the mountaintop in pursuit of a Songhorn elk, and had readied his hunting bow for the kill when he had heard a sharp grunt. His concentration broken, Kane had looked about but seen no other animal besides the elk in the creek below him. Another guttural rasp, and then a clattering of long claws on mountain rocks caused Kane to wheel around just as a two thousand pound Clawbear slammed into him. The Songhorn elk fled as both Goliath and Clawbear were flung down the slope and into the chilly embrace of the mountainside creek. The bear had risen, stabbing its infamous claws into Kane’s side as it opened its maw to bite into the giant’s neck. Kane’s hands released the bow and gripped open the panting jaws of his attacker. Kane’s arms shook as he struggled to push away the Clawbear’s head, while he turned from left to right in search of anything that would break the deadly stalemate. A rough rock girdled by gentle creek waters looked promising, and Kane’s right hand left the bear’s heaving mouth to seize upon the stone. The Clawbear’s maw dropped forward as a result, causing Kane’s left arm to pull down on the bear’s bottom jaw. In a furious attempt to stop the hungry mouth from closing upon his own throat, Kane lifted the rock with his right hand and struck the lower jaw of the bear as hard as he could. The impact broke bone, and the Clawbear tried to stand, sensing that the encounter was going badly for it.

But Kane was not done.

The Goliath had smashed the rock upon the bear’s head again and again, until his newly freed left hand found purchase on his handcrafted flint axe. With the axe in one hand and the rock in another, Kane had crushed and sliced at the bear’s great skull until the creek below his feet ran a deep scarlet hue. With the Clawbear bleeding out and gasping for air, Kane took up one of his arrows and thrust it deep into the beast’s beating heart.

The subsequent return of Kane to the mountaintop with the hide and meat of the Clawbear earned him that precious nickname; Beastbreaker. Kane Vaien-Tal the Beastbreaker had relished in the following celebration of his victory over the literal jaws of death, and in the Vaien-Tal clan’s honoring of him as a hunter that could bring down any predator that stood between him and his kill.

Those had been better times. And now, Kane stood in a forest known only as a home to the dead, helping a widow fit her slim feet into the harnesses of his enormous snowshoes. Once he was done, he turned without one word and trudged deeper into the forest. The Goliath felt the snow rise up and grasp around his ankles; though he was resistant to the cold, continually sinking into the snow would slow him down. And he hated to be slowed.

Kane bent down to grasp his torch, but upon lifting it saw that it was close to extinguishing. As he reached into his pack to find another, Kane saw something move in the woods, just out of torchlight.

Kane worked to light another torch as the widow shuffled to a stop behind him. Both now noticed the movement, now a rapid flurry of motion between the trees. The woman started to cry out as Kane lit a fresh torch and brought it as close as he dared to the treeline.

A small pair of eyes, followed by a pair of long white ears, plopped out of the treeline. A baby rabbit, in full winter coat, squatted upon the snow and stared blankly at the two. Kane gestured for the bunny to leave. The furry creature didn’t budge. When he heard the widow cooing at the fluffy intruder, Kane rolled his eyes. He’d never understood the human affection for small animals. Their furs made for poor coats and their meats produced unsatisfying stews. Nonetheless, anything that boosted the morale of the noble was probably going to be helpful in getting her to keep up with him.

Kane squatted to get as close as he could to the bunny’s height, and after planting his torch into the snow, reached to gently grasp the mammal by the ears. The rabbit never even twitched as the Goliath handed the bunny to the perplexed widow and motioned for her to continue following him. As he fetched his torch and trodded towards an apparent clearing, Kane recalled how an act of irrational kindness had cost him both his hard-earned clan nickname and his home in the Coldgrip Mountains.

A hunt had been the cause of his rise, so perhaps it was fitting that a similar hunt would be the cause of his abrupt demise. Kane the Bearbreaker had been tracking a Lenar Ram with his younger sister, Sahe the Woundweaver, deep inside the valleys between the Coldgrip Mountains. It had been the warm season, and so both hunter and huntress were using the birds’ changing songs to track their quarry as it tried to escape up to the slopes of another mountain.

“There,” Kane had remarked, gesturing towards a patch of forest, “hear the Sugarthrush? It is making a mating call. The ram must be the other way.”

“Oh, dearest, the Lenar Ram mimics sounds that will keep it safe,” Sahe had quietly laughed, throwing a glance towards the trees, “and the Sugarthrush does not mate in mountain valleys. Come, the Ram is that way.”

Sahe had been right. After hours of determined pursuit, she was finally in a position to make her first hunting kill off the Vaien-Tal clan’s home mountain. Kane couldn’t have been more proud. But the Lenar Ram was known for its cunning and, realizing it was trapped, used its power of vocal duplication to trumpet out the call of a distressed Clawbear cub. Fortune favored the ram that day, and two large Clawbears had come rushing through the woods to the crafty ram’s aide. By pitting the Goliaths against the Clawbears, the ram managed to make an escape while its natural hunters set their sights upon the other.

Seeing Sahe as a possible threat to the fictitious wounded cub, the large Clawbears had charged her. Sahe was a powerful Goliath, but was not as experienced with lethal mammals as Kane, and so missed her initial bowshots. Though Kane’s shooting wounded one of the great bears, neither Goliath was able to down the beasts from range before they closed in. Sahe was swift, and was able to avoid the strikes of the first Clawbear, but she could not avoid those of the second. She had screamed as the jaw of the second bear clamped down upon her belly, a sound that Kane would forever wish was never remembered by his ears. His sister was pinned, but not out of the fight, and though a Clawbear bit into her underbelly Sahe still managed to drive a flint knife deep into the mammal’s right eye.

As Sahe wrestled with the second Clawbear, Kane prepared to battle with the first. The Beastbrekaer’s arms soon felt the sharp pain of his failure to down the creature as the bear’s claws sunk into them. Thrown onto the ground, Kane kicked out furiously against the main body of the Clawbear in a desperate attempt to get the beast off of him. This succeeded in getting Kane distance, distance which he used to bring his flint axe to bear. With one well-placed swing, Kane’s axe cut into one of the bear’s paws, causing the predator to back off from the Goliath. Swinging the axe to keep the beast at bay, Kane took up his bow and, in one swift motion, dropped the axe and notched an arrow. Before the Clawbear could charge again, Kane shot an arrow into the bear’s chest, just missing its heart. The clawed beast broke off its attack, and wheeled around in a panic, retreating.

With the first Clawbear routed, Kane turned his attention to Sahe’s struggle with the remaining beast. She had locked her legs around the bear’s neck, and had managed to drive her knife into both of her attacker’s eyes. But the Clawbear’s jaws remained firmly locked around her waist. Kane had rushed toward the bear and, with his bow drawn, shot an arrow directly into its neck. The new angle of attack had caused the bear to release its grip and turn to try to flee. Neither Goliath wished to leave a hunt so injured without a kill to claim, and as Sahe stabbed her flint knife into the bear’s hind quarters Kane had shot an arrow directly into the Clawbear’s backside. The beast had gasped, tumbled forward, then, blinded and bleeding out, hurled itself over the ravine. Soon, the quiet chirp of birdsong returned to the forest.

Though the Goliaths had triumphed, there was no celebration. Sahe Woundweaver had sustained intense injuries to her abdomen and waist, and could not move without risking further harm. Thankfully, Sahe was a skilled healer, but did not have the components necessary to ensure that she could recover enough to travel home. Her herbs and on-hand bandages were not enough, and Kane’s injured arms made it impossible for him to carry her safely. By all accounts, it had seemed as though at least one of them would not make the trip back to the mountaintop.

Kane’s mind returned to the present, as a clearing in the woods provided the opportunity for him to dig a shallow grave. He went to throw the burdensome cadaver from his shoulders, but then thought of the widow, who was now petting the white rabbit. If she wanted the body buried this badly, she likely wouldn’t react well to any rough treatment of the corpse. The Goliath sighed, gently setting the body onto the snow-covered ground. Without so much as a grunt, Kane reached into his bag and withdrew an iron mattock. Marking out an area of the ground with his mind, the giant motioned for the widow to step back before taking the first swings at the frozen topsoil. Under the efforts of any other creature, perhaps the cold ground could have held. However, Goliaths are not like other creatures, and Kane’s swings soon broke the frozen soil wide open.

And as he dug in the flickering torchlight, Kane wondered about how if he had been as strong as he is now, if perhaps he could have saved Sahe. Or, more importantly, saved himself.

In any Goliath clan, it is to those that can survive that much is given, and to those who struggle to do so, nothing is provided. If members falter or become a burden to the rest of the clan, they are simply left out in the often-literal cold. Goliath society has always operated under this rule, and the Vaien-Tal clan was far from an exception. Hunters too weak to hunt were not given any meat, as they were expected to either recover their strength by getting a fresh kill or to perish in the process. There was just no room on the mountaintop for those who needed extra help. In the eyes of the Vaien-Tal, and in the eyes of the vast majority of Goliath clans, a badly injured branch is as burdensome and useless as a dead one. In Goliath terms, Sahe was seen as too hurt to help, and therefore she should die alone so as to unburden Kane of her taxing presence.

Or, at least, she was supposed to have done so, but it turns out that Kane had something of a heart. He loved Sahe, and cherished his companionship with her. Most Goliaths would prefer to hunt alone, but if they couldn’t, they almost always took well-trusted family members with them. This was for one very practical reason; outside of close family members, the ideology of the supremacy of strength amongst mountaintop Goliaths meant that hunting with strangers could become as dangerous as hunting alone. Any sign of weakness or injury could turn a stronger hunting partner into a new predator to avoid. Had Sahe hunted near other members of the clan, perhaps she would have been left to her dreary fate. Had Sahe been someone else, perhaps Kane would have been content to do the same--or worse. But Kane cared for Sahe the Woundweaver, and knew that if anyone could overcome such injuries, it was she.

Sahe, knowing of her predicament, imparted a crucial secret to Kane.

“A day’s walk east lies a human house,” Sahe had rasped, “full of things to buy, and trade.”

“How do you know of this,” asked a bewildered Kane, “did you trade with the humans?”

Such a thing was taboo in the Vaien-Tal clan.

“Yes, Kane,” Sahe admitted, “but there you can barter your labor and coin for herbs that I need. With those medicines, I can heal.”

Kane knew well that such a request meant trading with humans, a taboo of the clan, but given the particular set of circumstances the Beastbreaker would do anything to see his sister become well again. After Sahe Woundweaver gave Kane the single gold coin she had, Kane vowed to her that he would return within nightfall with the medicine she had requested.

And as Kane departed, his powerful footfalls shaking the ground as he ran to the east, his ears had caught the sound of hungry howls coming from the nearby mountains. Kane was in a race against time.

A sob from the rich widow brought the grey giant out of his memories and back into the present. The grave he had excavated would be more than deep enough for the cold cadaver. Kane stood back and waited, watching for the widow’s signal to throw the corpse into Oblivion. The widow nodded at the Goliath before gently placing the rabbit on the ground, and walking over to the corpse. She bowed her head, and though she sobbed loudly Kane could make out what sounded like a prayer dripping from her lips. After a minute the noble fell silent, then turned away from the corpse and faced the silent forest.

Without any further fanfare, the Goliath hoisted the corpse over his broad shoulders and tossed it into the fresh grave. The widow had shuddered at the sound of the body falling into the ground, but Kane didn’t notice. As he worked to shovel dirt and snow over the grave’s opening, his mind returned to that fateful day when he’d first encountered the world of men.

Kane had pushed his great body as hard as he could to reach the human trading post by nightfall, but it was dawn by the time the giant arrived. His heavy pounding on the door shook the trader mightily, for when the door opened Kane was greeted with the blade of a hatchet. Raising his bandaged arms to show he meant no harm, the Goliath looked deeply into the quaking human’s eyes and waited for the trader to stand down. She did so, slowly, and after several minutes she spoke to the giant.

“What’s yer business ‘ere?” she had asked. Kane’s mind had raced to remember what little he knew of Common.

“I am sick. Family sick. Very sick. Will hunt herbs, from you,” Kane replied. The trader’s frightened expression told him he’d used the wrong verb.

“Bribe herbs. Er, Buy herbs, from you,” Kane corrected himself. To further his message, the Goliath slowly withdrew a single gold coin.

“K. What ‘erbs ye need?” the trader inquired. Kane took a deep breath.

“Feveroot, blue. Mooneye, black.”

The trader scoffed.

“Those be ‘spensive,” she retorted, jamming a finger at the single gold coin, “fifty gold each.”

Kane didn’t know how to haggle, or how to call a merchant’s bluff. Nor was he terribly adept at counting. The Goliath tried to offer the coin again.

“No,” the human laughed, “not ‘nough.” Kane thought, then carefully lowered his arms and showed his hands.

“Will work. Will hunt, for herbs.” He said. But the trader simply shook her head.

“Price is price. Gold, or begone.”

Kane did not understand. He had come all this way, and had offered up his strong hands for labor, only to be turned down because he didn’t have little bits of metal. The giant curled his fingers into fists. At the sight of this aggression, the trader had slammed the door shut.

Alone and desperate, Kane had turned and looked about in the darkness for a glint of metal. But, he didn’t see the tell-tale sign of gold. Instead, he saw a distant campfire. Salvation, perhaps. Or, a source of gold coins.

Without hesitation, the gigantic humanoid had turned and run towards the distant firelight.

The snap of a distant twig in the forest before him banished the rest of the memory from Kane’s thoughts. The rabbit was back in the noble’s hands, hands that were gently gripping the small mammal in search of warmth. And she held the furry creature, she started to smile.

“You must be hungry,” the widow declared. Her voice caught Kane slightly off guard. He hadn’t expected her to start speaking right after the burial. Then again, perhaps such an act was what was needed to lift her back into normalcy. Into conversation.

It took Kane a moment to realize she was speaking to the rabbit.

“Oh, let’s see if I have something for that,” the noblewoman said, rummaging around in a purse under her robes, “oh, that will do, yes. And, um, you sir?”

Kane watched as the widow handed him a small slice of a pear. Not nearly enough to fill his belly, but he’d take it. Although he’d much rather have the rabbit.

“Thank you, ma’am.” His Common had improved dramatically since he’d been banished from the mountains. Kane quickly ate the slice of pear, observing as the bunny did the same with its own portion.

“Oh, how is everything,” the human cooed at the snow bunny.

“I’ve eaten worse,” Kane replied. The widow gave him a look. Kane didn’t quite understand. He’d thought the question was for him. Bunnies cannot converse, after all.

A moment of silence passed betwixt the two before the woman worked up the courage to talk to the Goliath again.

“So, Kane, is it? I, well, I just wanted to say thank you,” she began, “for, um, everything. These woods can be quite dangerous, you know.”

“Yes, they can be,” replied Kane, pausing briefly before continuing, “I do not know your name.”

“Oh, Baroness Tabitha of the Westwild Estates,” the noble said, before stopping herself with a smile, “but it’s just Tabitha now, I suppose.”

“I see. Tabitha,” Kane commented. He continued to search the treeline, but saw nothing. At least, nothing he could confirm as possible trouble.

“I just--well, maybe you’ve wondered--well, maybe not, but--do you know how he died?” Tabitha asked Kane. The Goliath gently shook his head.

“Well it’s that damn town, that’s why,” Tabitha continued, “all that hysteria after the children went missing. Well, they say their children went missing months ago. Personally, I think they ran off. I would too if I had those wackjob bumpkins for parents.”

Something in the treeline caught Kane’s attention. The widow continued to talk, to no one in particular.

“It all started at that damn inn,” Tabitha said, talking in the vague direction of the rabbit, “we were just passing through, and these local sticks kept staring us down, whispering to themselves. Then one of the men started screaming at us, screaming that it was us, my husband, he’d seen my husband in the woods with the children. And I--I couldn’t stop them, and that damn town magistrate wouldn’t stop them.”

There was definitely movement in the treeline. Kane continued to listen to the woman as his right hand found the hilt of his axe.

“That fat bastard was feeding off the hysteria of the town. And so he didn’t stop it, didn’t stop the looting of rope from shops and didn’t stop the, the,” Tabitha began to break down, “didn’t stop the damn lynching of my own husband! Owsald was a lawyer, a man of the law, and that cowshit-eating sheriff of Illmater’s Hope let the mob hang him in those pines like he was a murderer!”

Kane quickly turned to the noble and put a finger to his lips. Tabitha’s sobs stopped as one of his hands enveloped her shoulders.

“We have trouble,” the giant said. The Goliath quickly gestured to the darkness of the Dead Pines.

There, a handful of torches were breaking through the darkness, heading to where Kane and Tabitha stood.

Perhaps it was the torchlight in the dark. Perhaps it was the tension of the moment, but Kane’s mind enveloped itself with what had happened after he found that distant campfire on the night of his encounter with the tradeswoman. He had returned to the trading post at dawn, fresh wounds on his arms, and had pounded on the door until it had nearly caved inward. The tradeswoman had returned with her hatchet ready, her guard only dropping at the sight of three bags full of gold pieces.

Kane had unknowingly paid several times more than what the prepared herbs were really worth, but this mattered little to him. With the medicine in his possession, the Goliath ran back to the valley in the Coldgrip Mountains where his sister Sahe lay. He ran, but a sudden storm had hindered his progress mightily, and it was only at nightfall on the second day that Kane was able to return to her.

The giant found Sahe Woundweaver in a horrific condition. Around her lay the bodies of scavenging vultures and wolves, each impaled with an arrow from her bow. Sahe had no new injuries, but the old ones had gotten considerably worse; gangrene, the death of flesh, had developed around her midsection, and the fever Sahe was suffering indicated an entrenched infection. Kane had sat beside her and prepared the blue and black herbs as Sahe instructed him to do. When all was finished, Kane had given her the herbs, watched as she ate them, and waited for her to recover.

She never did. Instead, she entered into a sleep that made her breaths shorter and shorter until there was no breath at all. Had Kane been at all familiar with the ingredients and their manner of preparation, perhaps he would have known that his sister was not concocting a cure. Sahe Woundweaver was instead preparing a tasteless toxin to lull her into a wakeless sleep. She knew by the start of the second day that her wounds were fatal. And Sahe also knew of the Goliath mindset. The clan would never have cared for her, and they would have ejected Kane for doing so.

For the first time in his life, Kane Bearbreaker had wept. In his mind, he had failed to prepare the ingredients correctly, and had therefore killed her. After his bout with sorrow, Kane rose and collected some of the bodies of the scavengers in an attempt to salvage the rest of the hunt. He would have succeeded had not three armed Goliaths from his own clan arrived and demanded he leave the kills for them. Kane was enraged at this betrayal, but as they say, the strong do what they can, the weak will do what they must. Kane was forced to return home, in utter shame and with no yield from the hunt.

Days after his shameful arrival home, Kane was brought before the Vaien-Tal clan chieftain for questioning concerning the nature of his last hunting excursion. The Goliath was at first confused about the affair, as family deaths were usually dealt with by family members alone, but the giant chieftain had something else in mind.

“We have begun to be harassed by bands of armed humans,” the chieftain had told Kane in the harsh tongue of Giant, “in our most precious hunting grounds. Because of this, many great kills have eluded our grasp.”

Kane had continued to kneel before the chieftain, saying nothing. The chief had continued.

“These humans are not mere peasants growing bold in their own hunts. No, these humans have been ‘deputized’, sent by their law to capture one of our own.”

Kane’s throat had tightened. He had tried to avoid the chieftain’s piercing gaze. But the chieftain wasn’t done.

“They say one of our hunters slew one of their traders, and stole her gold. They say the gold was used to pay for medicines, to heal a ‘family’ that was ‘sick’.”

The chieftain continued to study Kane’s forlorn expression.

“I have no use for such things. Medicines,” the chieftain spat, “Gold. None of my sons and daughters would kill to keep such valueless things.”

Kane was starting to shake. The chieftain scowled.

“But you did.”

Kane looked up sharply at the chieftain, who reached out to display a single, gold coin.

“This was found where you sleep. Another was found near where the Woundweaver died,” the chieftain snarled, rising to his full height before bellowing a final question, “did you, Bearbreaker, bring such dishonor to the great Vaien-Tal clan?”

Silence fell from Kane’s mouth. Then, a whisper.

“Yes,” Kane said. The chieftain turned from Kane, spat, and raised an arm towards the forests in the west.

“Take your shame, and depart. I will neither deliver you to nor protect you from the humans,” the chieftain commanded, “do not return, or you will meet death.”

And so Kane, emblazoned with the shameful nickname of Coinbleeder, had found himself thrust into the strange world of men.

That was many years ago. Since then, Kane had been broken into the world of wealth and gold. To buy supplies, he needed money, and to earn money, he did odd jobs in the shady parts of the human Crown. Lifting things, breaking things, digging things up. Like prey on the hunt, he’d track one job down after another, until he had found himself in the town of Illmater’s Hope. And from Illmater’s Hope, he had found himself digging a grave in the Dead Pines. And in the Dead Pines, in this frosty present, Kane had found himself facing down a small mob of armed townsfolk in the dead of night.

“It’s them! That damn mob,” wailed Tabitha, clutching the rabbit to her chest, “they’ve come for us!”

They came indeed, trampling out of the dark woods and, by following the large footprints Kane had made in the snow, advanced directly for the large moonlit Goliath. The giant turned to face the bobbing torches of the hungry mob, an iron mattock in one hand and a handaxe in the other. Tabitha quickly moved behind Kane as the mob drew close, taking the bunny with her.

The violent crowd tumbled into a stop several yards away from where Kane stood, tools ready in each hand. After a moment of confusion, a single voice howled out of the mob.

“It’s them! They’ve buried him! They’ve buried my son!”

“Mine too,” another voice called from deep within the bobbing torches, “they’ve buried him alive! He’s here, he’s here!”

Similar calls tainted with hysteria and panic shook apart the fragile silence of the night. Kane could feel the tension snapping, boiling, lunging out from the crowd towards him.

The mob began to encircle the Goliath and the widow, forming into a small forest of sickles and shovels that stabbed towards the clouds in the cold night sky. Tabitha started to cry as she clutched onto the bunny.

Kane looked around him, trying to discern the strength of the mob. They had many weapons, but they appeared crude and better suited for farming. A good portion of the mob was emaciated, but the adrenaline rush they were getting would make them dangerous if they attacked.

The giant took a deep breath, and bellowed out to the mob with a voice like a mountaintop trumpet.

“We found one! We found one of the children!”

The mob rapidly fell silent. Kane took in another great breath, and continued.

“We buried him here,” Kane declared, eyeing the tenuous stillness of the crowd, “the son of this woman was found dead!”

Tabitha continued to cry, clutching the now shaking rabbit in her arms.

“We laid him to rest,” Kane continued, keeping his weapons brandished, “now go, all in peace! Let the child lay in rest.”

The mob said nothing in response. Then, a voice sprung from the very front of the crowd.

“Proof a’ this, mm?” cackled a peasant with a rusty sickle, “I want proof!”

The mob began to move again, voices raising in agreement with the outspoken peasant. Kane looked towards Tabitha for inspiration. The noblewoman sprung into action, hoisting the rabbit over her head.

“Here, you rascals,” she howled, “this is proof! How else could something so wild be so tame?”

Some in the crowd began to back off. After all, most of them had never tamed a wild animal. The lie was working. Torchlights began to turn back towards the Dead Pines.

“Oh, what a pack ah lies,” crowed the same peasant, stepping forward with sickle in hand, “what you’ve really got down there, hmm?”

The energy of the mob began to return.

“Oi, that’s her! The wife of the child-thief!” someone cried out. The peasant with the sickle eyed Tabitha before rapidly nodding in agreement.

“Aye, lies, lies! They’ve got the children! They’ve got them,” howled a woman at the edge of the crowd. The torches and sickles began to close in again. Tabitha began to plead with the mob, but their advance did not halt.

Kane took in a breath, holstered his axe, and seized the nearest member of the crowd by the neck. With one swift motion, he hoisted the squirming peasant over the roiling mob’s torches.

“Do you know who I am?”

The crowd froze at the thunder of Kane’s voice. Only the desperate gasps of the entrapped peasant broke the silence.

“I am Beastbreaker, of the Vaien-Tal clan,” roared the Goliath, “and I have broken many beasts in my time.”

Not a soul in the crowd moved.

“Touch this woman or her mammal,” growled Kane, staring into the wide eyes of each and every peasant, “and I will break every one of you as I shall break this man.”

With one strong motion, Kane slammed the captive peasant into the ground with a deafening crack. The man lay still. Broken.

“Lies,” called out a voice, “we ain’t scared o’ you!”

But the voice was wrong. Kane’s demonstration was enough to cow the crowd into submission. The mass of torches hurried back into the Dead Pines, toward the safety of Ilmater’s Hope.

Within minutes, the mob was gone. All that remained was the dead body of the peasant and the footprints of the crowd in the snow.

Tabitha sighed, and gently set the bunny down.

“I suppose I should thank you, again,” the noblewoman began, glancing in the direction of the town, “but we clearly can’t go back that way.”

“No. We cannot,” concurred Kane.

“So, I’d like to propose an arrangement. You escort me to the next village, and I can pay you double what I’ve promised.”

Kane nodded, and gestured toward the body of the peasant.

“Shall we bury him?”

Tabitha paused, looking over the broken mane’s frame. She sighed, and looked up at Kane.

“Yes,” she declared, “it’s only proper. He likely has family, after all.”

Kane chuckled. Tabitha cocked an eyebrow at the Goliath.

“I knew of one who would have said the same,” Kane said, as he reached for his iron mattock to dig a new grave.

“Oh, really? Can you tell me more about him,” Tabitha asked, stooping down to pick up the rabbit, “on our journey to the next town?”

“Her, and yes, I can,” Kane replied, swinging his mattock through the snow, “I can tell of Sacha the Woundweaver.”

“Well,” Tabitha said while staring up at the twinkling night sky, “I’m looking forward to hearing about her.”

Kane continued to swing with the mattock, cleaving through snow and soil with relative ease. He marveled at the tool before him, as it was an item he would never have hoped to wield in his old wealthless mountaintop home.

The Goliath stopped at the sound of Tabitha’s cooing, and looked up to see her feeding the rabbit another piece of a pear. What an odd mammal for a human to befriend. Bunnies could never talk, for instance. And humans could never hop. And yet, their friendship seemed endearing.

Perhaps there was something of value in the new things of this world after all.

END

Word count; 6537

#darkdice #DarkDiceFanfic

1 note · View note

andrawmedae · 3 years

Text

A fireplace tale

The fireplace had always been Rowena’s favorite place to think. To fantasize, to ruminate, to bounce some ideas back and forth, even if, let’s be honest, she always ended up hurting herself with some gloomy thoughts.

At the edge of the tall pines, tremendous blazings had given way to dying embers, and the traveling companions divided the watch quarters among themselves.

As she stirred her spoon in the hot broth Sindri brewed, turnips and pine nuts along with some leftover bread, the young dwarf replayed in her head the events of the last days.

The party had been on the road for a few days, and the young bard was feeling a bit agitated, to say the least. How can one think about such trivial things when children are missing? How can one feel so jaunty and cheerful when talking to a special someone when some moments ago, people were murdered in front of one’s eyes? How can one(/cut)..

Sindri: … your soup?

Rowena: Sorry cousin, what?

Sindri: You need to eat a bit more Rowena, I think the night won’t be a quiet one, the woods are teeming with life, and I’m not sure it’s the affable kind.

Rowena: I… yes, yes I’ll eat up.

The two dwarves were sitting side by side on a heavy branch, by the fire where a cauldron was quietly bubbling. A few meters away, three makeshift tents stood tall, right on the fringe of some ominous pines. The warmth of the flames was welcome as the cool midnight breeze was beginning to pierce through the layers of adventurers' cloth.

Sindri: You don’t seem as chipper as usual, is something on your mind?

Rowena (not very convincing): Well yes of course I mean, the children are still lost, we don’t yet know what awaits us beyond these cursed woods, and the nights to come are not going to help me calm my mind.

Sindri: Rowena, I have roamed these lands for 200 years longer than you, and yet you honestly seem to think I can’t see when you are hiding something from me?

Rowena: Oh come on cousin, don’t play that old trick on me, truly it’s nothing in particular

Sindri (amused): Oooh I see I see. You know, it is my mind who is surely playing tricks on me, because I was quite confident it was related to yesterday. You know, the fact that when we decided to break the buddy system for last night’s vigil, and that you would have loooved finishing your conversation with Iaus(/cut)

Rowena (quick, afraid): Oy shut up, shut up they’ll hear us, you don’t know if everybody is asleep Sindri!

Sindri (joyful): Aha, perceptive as always your good Cousin Sindri, Heh? Rowena, you can’t fool me, it's not because my beard is whiter than yours that I no longer perceive the flicker, that flicker, in people's eyes.

Rowena: It’s not what you think, or not exactly, not all, I mean I (stumbles) (pause)

Sindri: What is it cousin? (pause) I’m sorry for teasing you a bit, I could not help myself. But it was so tempting, you know? I promise, you can tell me if you want to, you know I won’t judge you.

Rowena: Yes, yes I know, it’s just that I’m a bit embarrassed talking about that with you. I mean all I know about, you know, your love life, is that you have been married to Pia for quite some time now, which is wonderful of course, but that’s it! I don’t know all the foolishness from your younger years, the silly things you won’t tell without one or two tankards full of ale. So well it’s… weird I guess, for me, talking about that, because well, you don’t know much about me either, and a vigil doesn’t scream “Comfy and safe time for coming out to your long lost cousin”

Sindri: Coming out you say? Wait, I thought it was about Iaus?

Rowena: Well, yeah it kinda is? But at the same time it’s a little more complicated than that, and I feel a little uneasy about it. I’m 80 but I still feel like such a child! I mean (whispering) having a crush in these peculiar circumstances would already be a bit challenging to deal with… but having several, on people who know each other and work together it’s ooooh- I would love burying my head in the earth and disappearing.

Sindri: You know what little cousin? I think it’s time for me to tell you more about my -how did you put it, oh Pelor give me strength, - my love life, while you drink your soup.

Rowena: ...

Sindri: Well to begin with the part that you know(/cut)

Rowena (intrigued): The part that I know?

Sindri (amused): Rowena, it would be easier for me to tell you about that time if you drank your soup peacefully. Now, as I was saying, you know I’m happily married to Pia. Back in the day, it was as wanted the tradition, but our union was also beneficial to not only our two families, but a lot of other people. Some trades and arrangements were made, contracts and apprenticeships, we knew our clans would have some steady years as a result of our families becoming one. The part that you don’t know, and where I’ll be glad if you take a generous gulp right… (Rowena takes a spoonful) oh, thank you dear. I am so much more than Pia’s husband, and she’s so much more than Sindri’s wife. Because hmm, you know, when, you know when we met, well. There were a lot of people in the Crag you know? And… (silent)

Slowly, gently, Rowena swallowed her mouthful before sitting on the ground, in front of Sindri. She held his hand as she said quietly

Rowena: Were you in love with someone else?

Sindri (smiling, quietly): Well, as a matter of fact, I still am! Rowena, I have been in love with two wonderful people for over 100 years, who know each other and that I love both of them : my dearest Pia, who gives me love and strength everyday, and who gave me adorable children, and Amonak, who also gives me love and strength everyday.

Rowena (loudly): Oh my gooood that’s amazing!

Iaus (alerted/groggy/from afar): What? Are we being ambushed?

Rowena: (Oh shit, laughing) Sorry, no, all fine, you can go back to sleep! (lower, but very fast) Tell me more about Amonak, about everything!

Sindri: Hahaha, I’m glad to see your ardor, it warms my heart a little, being able to talk about both of them to my charming cousin, and to feel elated and relieved about it. I wish to tell you about the time where we met, because I assume you are experiencing quite a similar phase right now. I met Amonak before meeting Pia. He was about (/cut)my age

Rowena (bursting with joy but trying to keep her voice down): He? Amonak is a man?

Sindri (amused, lighthearted): Shhh, finish your soup first, you can grill me later! Yes, Amonak is a man, a dwarf from the FrostIron Moun(/cut)… (thinking) has anyone told you that the FrostIron Mountains folks are positively… open minded with who one should love? It is a sacred sentiment after all, a blessing, and when one lucky person falls in love with another, it is always celebrated fondly. When I met him, all I could see was a young dwarf radiating with such a calming but firm presence, so much aching but so much joy, and all I wanted to do was listening to him explaining passionately how one could smith a well-balanced axe, or how to cure a bad beer induced hangover. Yes, I may have experienced the last one while being cared for said hangover.

Rowena: Oh you need to tell me the secret recipe for that, Cousin

Sindri (light laughter): Aging 100 years should help you greatly! Being close to Amonak felt like floating in the clouds, bathing in the sunlight without suffering from the heat, feeling strong as Moradin, but as light as the wind too. The Crag was still the Crag of course, but thanks to him, the hardship seemed less terrible to endure. I won’t bore you with all the petty details, but we spent days discovering each other slowly and gently, then months sharing and caring for each other. A few years later, Pia and some others arrived in the Crag. She too made me feel like a ray of sunshine was brushing my ski, gently painting my cheeks pink each time she spoke to me. Some other newcomers were also fascinating people, I know for a fact that Amonak did bind with some of them. After all those years talking with the same company, It felt for both of us like a breath of fresh winter air… I could have convinced myself that I was 50 years old again. I took advantage of every stolen moment with Pia to get to know her, then the discussions got longer and longer, whether they were just between the two of us, with Amonak or the other newcomers. I was falling in love with her too. And it was such a delightful feeling, such a special blessing that I wanted to talk to Amonak as soon as I understood it.

Rowena: And you did? Were you not afraid of breaking his heart?

Sindri: Well to be honest, I don’t see one’s heart as a breakable thing. For instance, a mighty tree could be a beautiful picture to represent that strong force of nature, but I think it rather is closer to… well, water? It can bend, it won’t break. And yes, sometimes it can freeze, but with a little warmth, a soft conversation or a prayer it can easily melt back to an impetuous torrent, full of life and joy, full of light and love. I was not afraid of breaking Amonak’s heart. I knew that even if it froze for a bit, I could easily help my beloved unthaw it, making him feel unique and adored. But the beauty of this moment was slightly different that you could have guessed, because well, Amonak fell in love with one of the newcomers too!

Rowena: Nooooo, for real?

Sindri (amused): Yes, yes, “for real”. I don’t know if Pelor blessed us, or if I am one of the luckiest dwarves that ever lived, but since that day, my heart is held not by two, but by four hands, and it never felt cold anymore.

Rowena: Sindri, that’s so beautiful, thank you for sharing such a cherished memory, it makes me wanna burst into song.

Sindri: It would be an honor, but I don’t think our new friends would feel the same that late in the night!

Rowena: Haha, you are right. (pensive) Does it make this journey harder for you? I mean, I know for a fact that you did not see Pia for a long time, is it the same with Amonak?

Sindri: Well, sadly yes. I had to protect them both. But I’m gonna let you in on a little secret. When Pia and I got married, we enchanted our rings so that they could communicate with each other. It's not much, we can't have a conversation, but thanks to that, I can know if Pia is in good shape, if she is happy, and to know that it fills me with joy and serenity. And do you see that locket holding my cape? Everyone thinks that's a sigil for Pelor, a sun with a sunflower, that would be totally appropriate. But the truth is quite different as you will have already guessed.

Rowena: Amonak have the same sigil?

Sindri: Well not quite identical, Amonak is a cleric of Moradin, his own sigil has an anvil with a sunflower. Here let me show you. As Sindri places a hand on his locket, as to warm it a bit, he says with a gentle voice Sindri: Hello sunbeam, I hope you are alright.

Then, putting his hand on his knee, the sun began to revolve on itself, while the sunflower above it began to rotate in the opposite direction. A few moments later, two eyelid-like shapes opened, and a calm metallic voice responded. The Locket Warm. Love. Safe. Time

Rowena: Did he? It? Who?

Sindri: Amonak seems to be fine according to our lockets, and he misses me. ó elskan mín.

Rowena: That’s so… magnificent! Can you teach me how to do that? I could enchant my own harp and… well I have other instruments who can..

Sindri: In time I could show you that my dear, but I think you ought to yourself to have some heartfelt conversations with some other people over there, before saying Hey, this magical harmonica will tell me if you are alive and well, and by the way I have a crush on you

Soren: Oh, you have a crush on who?

#doyoushiphim #darkdice #sindri westpike #rowena granitepike #polyamory #bisexual #dwarves #DarkDiceFanfic

2 notes · View notes