Misadventures of a Manic Mummer
Posted: Fri Jul 16, 2021 3:59 pm
Hi, I'll be writing down stories from not quite point of view from my mummer Vlora Tiderunner here. Hope you like them.
The forest was quiet, not the quiet of no sound, but the quiet of a forest at night. An owl hoot as crickets and other nocturnal creatures minded their own business. Streaks of moonlight shine from gaps from the canopy in between the branches of the oaks, providing sharper shadows within the gloom. The forest sounds grew quiet the sound of clopping hoof beats approaches and the gloom got driven away by lantern light followed by a cloaked woman on a horse.
She looked around warily, her hood panning left and right as the lantern hanging from her saddle horn swings around, the light it casted making nearby shadows dance. From one moment and the next, a man stepped out from behind one of the oaks in front of her, forcing her horse to stop.
“Hey there,” he greeted, casually swinging the mace he carried. “What’s a nice lass like you doing here in the dead o night?” As soon as he said that, he grabbed her horses reigns and forced it to follow. “C’mon, you come along nice and I will not be needing to hurt ya.” He flourished his mace for emphasis..
“P-please don’t hurt me?” The woman’s terrified squeak made the brigand grin.
“Naah, just give me all yer valuables and a bit more and I promise I’ll be gentle like them fancy townsfolks.”
The brigand herd a whimper from atop the saddle and nodded. “Don’t you worry, missy, me and the boys will treat you well, even leave you enough food to make it to Mistral on foot. Now our camp’s just close by.”
They moved about a dozen feet when the bandit heard shuffling, and a thud from behind him. He glanced behind him and saw the rider on the ground, scrambling to stand up. Oh, a runner, he thought, guess I’ll need to break her legs, luckily healers will be good at patching it up, or even them monks. He hefted his mace to do just that when the woman’s hood fell back showing her face. At first she only saw dark auburn hair, she looked at him and said a word . . .
She smiled at him, radiant as the sun in the middle of the dark forest. The lantern light made her orange hair dance like strands of flame. Gray eyes like morning mist seem to hide some promise just for him. He thought to move closer, but he didn’t want to break this view of perfection. He just stared for 1 second or an eternity, he couldn’t remember. However even one needed to blink after forever, after which his trance broke. He looked around puzzled, where was she? He looked around and only saw the horse who gazed back placidly.
While looking around for the woman, he heard a whisper, he nearly understood what the words meant but. . .
As he turned, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. There was something waiting for him just beyond the shadows of the trees. Canim? Something worse? He heard of stories about nethrem coming out from the nearby ruins to drag their helpless victims back there. Occasionally, he thought he could hear mad laughter from the poor souls trapped within it. The lantern, the only source of light flickered, the darkness seeming to come closer, ready to engulf him. He heard a noise from behind, heavy breathing, anticipatory, predatory. He thought of looking back, but he couldn’t move, his legs refused to move.
He whimpered and clutched his mace closer to him. Still, what will his weapon do? Finally, the lantern dimmed and vanished leaving him in the dark, moonlight casting the gloom into stark relief. He felt a sharp pain on his leg, the back of his knee suddenly fountaining blood. The sudden pain galvanized him into action. He crawled a few feet, still aware of that claw that hamstrung him. He managed to stand and limp away. He left the horse, maybe the predator will go after the bigger prey than him.
From the cover of the nearby shrub, Vae Alora Tiderunner, or Vlora to most people sighed. She took a moment to clean her stiletto’s blade with a piece of cloth as she watched the brigand flee. Well,” she murmured, “ That helpless damsel act never seem to grow old.” She straightened and after a moment straightening her clothes, she held her horse’s reigns.
She grinned widely, “You know Dancer,” she said while leading her horse, “Maybe I should start saying rumors in the taverns. Maybe the story about a lone woman traveling at night that ends up to be a monster in disguise. Hopefully it will dissuade people like him from attacking other one less capable than I am in protecting themselves.”
“Now, how to start the tale?” she mumbled as she rode to Mistral. “This is not a story, but a warning to others...”