Kaern Retsar - Defender of Thromshier

[ShadowDrake]

“Hurry up with that saddle, boy! Those orcs aren’t gonna postpone the invasion because a squire can’t fasten a saddle to his sire’s mount!” chuckled a large, charismatic man with golden blond hair, as he glanced up at his squire between fastening the last pieces of his shining platemail, adorned with the crest of a paladin of Tyr.

“Yes sir, I’m doing it as fast as I can,” replied a young boy with dark brown hair and a golden tan from his long days working the fields of the keep, when not caring for the daily chores and practices of a squire.

The aged knight looked up after he had finished securing his vambraces, and brought a hand to his face to trace a scar on his left cheek. Giving a sigh under his breath, he looked to the young man securing his mount. Nodding, he reached down and placed his gauntlets on his calloused hands.

Fasting the last of the buckles, the squire paused a moment and fumbled with his hands, and spoke with a stutter, “Sir… I.. I want to, uh, fight beside you today… you’ve seen me wield a blade, you’ve seen how good I’m getting when we spar-“

“Aye, I have lad, and you’re not bad with the sword. I’ve watched you practice on the plow horse out in the fields, when you should be about your duties.” The aged knight paused for a moment, studying his pupil, and spoke again with enthusiasm, “Lad, raise your head and don’t be ashamed or embarrassed. Ye get about your duties and ye do them well, and you show true promise. I hope to see you soon ordained as a paladin of Tyr.”

The young man smiled, and led the majestic white warhorse to his sire. “Sir, I want it more than anything, but I can’t help but feel useless this day without a sword in my hand. Remember, I was in Baldur’s Gate during the Great Orc Invasion!”

The knight grinned and chuckled, “Yes, I remember that day. I remember many ‘a friend who fell there, and I still can’t believe you dove into the pack of orc shaman with a fallen blade and no mount. You’ve got courage boy, most others would have never escaped that with their hide’s intact!”

“Kaern, my boy, you’ve been my squire for three years now, ever since your thirteenth year.” Raising his gauntleted hand, he placed it on the squire’s shoulder. “I’ve watched your skills improve in sparring, and I see you have a good heart. I would be honored to have your blade at my side, but it’s my duty to protect you.”

Kaern sighed and nodded, patting the horse softly, and was about to reply when his sire spoke.

“Go to my chambers and don the studded leather. Take the silver longsword from the rack and the kite shield beside it. I’ll have ye guarding the inner courtyard incase they get through.”

The squire was ecstatic. He knew the chances that an orc attack would easily be defended against outside the walls, but the idea that his sire had placed so much responsibility on him made him feel as strong as his blade.

* * * * * *

Suited in his new armor, sword and shield in hand, Kaern made his way to the courtyard, he gave the sword a couple practice swings and watched as his sire, the paladin Saxil, rode out to the main gate of the keep to prepare the defenders to meet the first waves of orcs and keep them from scaling the walls.

Alarms were sounded as the orcs were sighted rising over the hills towards the keep south of Waterdeep. Rumors that a raiding party had been scouting the keep, but it was also noted that they weren’t doing a good job of hiding their intentions. Orcs were never known for their intelligence.

The horde was formidable, but the defenders of the keep were confident they would be able to defeat the invasion easily. Archers lined the battlements, and mages were preparing their spells. The warriors and paladins had ridden out to meet the charge, and most of the clerics were in the courtyard, with some remaining in the keep’s temple to tend to the seriously wounded.

Kaern was slightly disappointed that his sire did not allow him to meet the charge, but knowing he was just learning to swing a weapon on horseback, it would have been stupid, maybe even suicidal to be out there with his little experience.

Running up to the battlements to get a better look at the battlefield, he viewed maybe several hundred orcs. Fearsome as they were, Kaern was sure that even they would be no match for the defenders. Giving a sigh, realizing the chance of himself seeing battle this day was slim, he turned away from the battlements.

Startled from a sudden realization, he quickly turned and looked at the fast-advancing horde. He’d seen raids like this before; orcs had a knack for the keep the past few years; but he had never noticed tactics like this before. There were – holes – in the ranks – large empty circles were spaced out in between groups of orcs!

“Something’s amiss, “ Kaern said to himself. Turing to an archer next to him, he asked in a worried voice, “Ghal, where’s the mage Nebborim positioned?”

“On the north tower, me thinks,” Ghal grunted with a gruff voice, pointing to his right at the tower on the corner of the battlements.

Nodding a thanks, Kaern took off up the stairs of the tower, to find the mage sorting through pouches on his sinch-cord belt.

“Nebborim, the orcs – they’ve got holes in their ranks… something’s not right with-“
The mage stopped and looked at Kaern, interrupting his warning, “Kaern, I’ve no time for… holes? What’re ye talkin’ about?”

Kaern felt like he was being drilled into, his hands shaking so nervously he gripped his sheathed sword hilt for support, and pointed towards the rushing orcs with his other hand. “There, see? They’re holes, in their ranks! The orcs never close up the holes. It’s strange, especially with holes that large!”

“Strange indeed,” Nebborim pondered for a second, and then his eyes widened suddenly. Quickly reaching into his pouches, he pulled out what appeared to be gum Arabic, and yanked an eyelash from his face. Chanting with amazing speed and fluidness, there was a flash and a soft glow on those in the battlements. Kaern felt his eyes tingle, and as looked out over the parapit to the horde, he nearly dropped his shield.

“Good gods above, Mystra save us…” The old mage whispered under his breath. “Sound the warning! Return to the keep!” Nebborim yelled down to the courtyard, “Sound the warning!”

For a moment, all the young squire could do was stare across the battlefield to the horde. Where nothing was a moment ago, now appeared as groups of other creatures and humans, mixed throughout the orcs, unseen before without the aid of the spell, allowing him to see the invisible foes. Huge trolls easily kept pace with the orcs, while the blood on the ivory white of the Ogre’s tusks could be seen even from the tower. Riding in groups were humans on horseback, wearing ebony armor as black as night, and figures in hooded robes rode beside them, their belts laiden with small pouches.

* * * * * *

The horns sounded the warning call, but the horde was within distance of some of the defenders already, within the closing range of a fast horse. Kaern watched as the knights and warriors retreated towards the main gate, his sire taking the lead. A troll sprinted ahead of the orcs, and leapt at one of the fleeing warriors, landing solidly on his back and taking him violently to the ground before beginning his feast.

Saxil had reached the gate and reared his mount, securing the gate until the defenders were inside. About twenty of the warriors made it through the gates before the first wave crashed against the walls of the keep.

Kaern watched as Saxil took down orc after orc with his gleaming longsword, blocking strikes aimed at him with his shield and maneuvering away from many more. An awesome sight to behold, corpses slowly piled around the gate. Many of the warriors fanned out around Saxil, assisting in the defense of the keep.

“Drop the portcullis!” Saxil yelled into the keep with a booming voice. The sound of rushing chain signaled the drop of the huge iron portcullis, securing the keep, but trapping the keep’s defenders outside, suffering the continuous onslaught of the invaders.

Streams of arrows flew from the battlements, decimating the ranks of the orcs not smart enough or quick enough to cower under their shields. Two fireballs flew from the north tower, the first striking a large group of orcs, igniting many of them and immolating a few of the many trolls.

Kaern watched as the second fireball streaked towards a group of human riders, who appeared to not even notice the oncoming blaze as it nonchalantly disappeared into the glittering shield of magic surrounding them. One of them appeared to finish his casting, sending a large cloud of thick greenish smoke high into the air, while a second seemed to be waving the cloud towards the keep with fast waves of his hands, as if fanning it with his magic.

Watching the cloud move rapidly towards the west tower on the other side of the gate, he could see one of the tower’s mages blowing the cloud back with a strong gust of wind, back down into the midst of the orcs. Kaern watched as the cloud burned their skin, choking the life out of them, and over two dozen orcs fell dead.

Kaern raced down the stairs of the tower to the battlement, and stared at the onslaught. Arrows streamed down from the battlements, and lightning bolts streaked down into the horde, only to flash from one orc to the next. The walls shook from the impacts of spells against the walls, and many of the warriors had climbed to the battlements to cut down enemies who had nearly scaled over the walls.

He had just reached the end of the battlements when he was nearly cut down by an orc who was just climbing over the top of the wall. Rapidly drawing his sword, he swung it in an arc, slicing the orc across the face hard enough to make it fall backwards over the wall, to fall into its comrades below.

Within seconds of recovering, Kaern was thrown to the floor of the battlements by an explosion from above the gate. He looked over to where the gate was, only to see a gaping hole in the wall, leaving the portcullis swinging loosely for a moment, before toppling inward into the courtyard. Kaern cringed at the death cries of two of the keep’s defenders crushed underneath the giant fallen iron portcullis.

The gate’s defenders were nearly scattered by the surprise of the explosion, and if it weren’t for the veteran warriors calling the groups together, they would have been overrun quickly. Saxil rode through the waves of orcs, trolls, and other creatures, slicing down one after another. Attacking a troll and slicing it clean through it’s arm, it seemed merely to make it more furious. Saxil began a quick chant, and shouting a command, as if straight from Tyr, dozens of rushing orcs screamed painfully, and many trolls toppled, giving the knight a chance to cleanly slice through the tough hide of a troll’s neck.

Kaern could see the gate’s defenders being pushed back into the keep through what was once the gate. He quickly climbed down to the courtyard and ran to help the defenders hold the enterance. The chants of clerics could be heard behind the warriors as the cut down corpse after corpse. Mages could be seen in the towers tossing devastating spells to the mages below, often incinerating many of the invaders with a stray bolt of lightning or magically deflected fireball.

Saxil rode hard, charging through the invaders back to the keep. Kaern watched as he approached the what once was the gate, as a huge ogre headbutted Saxil’s mount, brutally throwing the knight from his horse. The ogre nearly lifted the mount off the ground with his tusks, before the horse fell to the ground, its back broken. The warhorse didn’t rise, and neither did the knight.

The ogre easily took on three of the defending warriors, holding its own and gaining ground into the keep. One of the clerics let loose a spell on the ogre, and the ogre began to roar and flail its huge club blindly. A mage sent a stream of magic missles down from the parapit, slamming the ogre as the warriors rapidly cut the blind ogre down.

Saxil didn’t seem to be rising on his own, from what Kaern could see, and a few orcs had already taken notice of the unconscious man against the wall of the keep. Kaern slid down the rubble that was the wall above the gate, and rushed forward to parry the blade of an orc’s axe, nearly losing his grip on the sword. Bashing his shield forward into the orc’s nose, he was sprayed with blood from his slash across the orc’s torso.

Casnar, one of the keep’s warriors and a long time friend of Kaern’s, came by his side, struggling to put down a large troll with a row of sharp jagged teeth. Kaern could see that his friend was in trouble, for the troll had easily knocked Casnar down onto his knees. He wanted to come to the aid of his friend, but he knew he couldn’t leave his sire’s defense. Fending off a kobold that had tried to leap onto the unconscious knight’s chest, he tried to think of something.

Running quickly to the orc he had just slain, he picked up the axe and clumsily threw it at the troll starting it’s final swing at Casnar. It was a glancing blow, barely even scratching the troll before the wound healed, but he had caught its attention. Growling, the troll leapt at Kaern, swinging a notched, bloodstained axe at his head. Barely blocking the blow with his shield, Kaern barely had time to bring his blade back before the next attack.

All he could think was that he was going to die. After the sixth or seventh bone-jarring blow, the troll’s axe pierced his shield, splitting it in two, while the only thing keeping his arm from being severed was his steel bracer. Kaern was propelled backwards into the stone wall, stopping himself with his hand. Feeling something hot against his arm, he nearly pulled away before he glanced at it. Seeing the lantern next to his hand, he grabbed it and threw it at the troll with all his might.

The troll swung hard to knock the lantern away, but as his axe hit it, it exploded in a rain of glass and burning oil. The flaming troll screamed as he was being immolated, flailing wildly as his skin made the flames burn more rapidly. The troll ran back into the horde, taking down many of the invaders as he went.

Kaern tried to calm his breathing, and hurriedly parried a blow from another orc. As the blades collided, the silver longsword that he had been wielding broke in two, part of the blade flying off to the side. The orc grinned as Kaern threw the broken sword at him, and raised its sword over its head. Kaern cringed, waiting for the blade to fall. Startled at the sound of crunching bone, he watched as Casnar drove his blade deep into th orcs skull. Pulling his blade free, he smiled at Kaern, nodded, and rushed off to fight another orc.

A coal black charger strode to the front of the ranks, ridden by a tall man in black field plate and a shield with a crest that Kaern immediately recognized as that of the god Cyric. Nearly frozen in fear, Kaern shook as the black knight looked to him, and gazed down to the fallen paladin of Tyr.

“Saxil, my old friend… I was so hoping to find you up and a bout. You’ve taken much of the fun out of this kill already…” The knight sighed with a touch of melancholy in his voice. Shaking his head, he drew a gray steel blade from its scabbard. Meeting the charge of the warrior Kaern saw once again to be Casnar with practiced ease, he guided his blade to block the first few strikes from the young warrior.

He dropped from his mount, and swung his blade in an arc, knocking Casnar’s blade out of his hands. Quickly throwing his hand forward, he caught the warrior by the throat. A dark aura surrounded Casnar for a moment, and then seemed to flow through the dark knight’s arm to surround him, and the warrior screamed in pain. Kaern heard the dark steel armor rumble with laughter as the knight drew a long thin dagger, driving it deep into Castun’s gut, and dropping the half-dead warrior to the ground. Sheathing the dagger still wet with blood, he kicked the body, causing the blood to flow harder out of the gut wound. The blood seemed to turn a sickening green as it left the body. Poison, Kaern thought, as Casnar moaned and shivered violently in agony.

The knight raised and locked his visor, and began to stride over to Saxil, sword in hand. “I guess this just makes things easier… a pity, I was truly looking forward to try my blade with you again.” The knight grinned evilly as he spoke.

Fearing for his sire’s life more than his own at that moment, Kaern ran forward and picked up Saxil’s sword, wielding it as he reset his fighting stance, sword out before him, guarding the unconscious knight. “The man is under my protection! Whoever you are, you’ll not touch him while I’m alive!”

The knight glared at Kaern, his eyes burning with hatred, causing him to retreat a step from the man in black platemail. Glancing at the sword Kaern wielded, he seemed to pause, and then grinning wide as he spoke, “You’ve got courage boy, I’ll give ye that. Most retreat without the need of me giving my name. I am Chagriz Mornblade, Dark Knight of the order of Cyric. I’ll be claiming that blade you hold, after I slay you and its owner.”

“You talk quite a bit, are you hoping I’ll wet myself?” And indeed, Kaern could feel that he was near doing so, but held his ground with all the courage he could muster. “You have no claim to this blade or his life, and I’ll make sure of it!”
Releasing a laugh that could chill the bones of the dead, Chagriz reversed his blade so it was point down, and drove it straight through the heart of Casnar, ending his agony. After cleaning the blade on the dead man’s bloodstained armor, he casually yawned as he once again spoke to Kaern. “Oh, there’s more there than you seem to know… you look to be maybe his squire? Huh… well, maybe you’ll actually put up a fight. This may be entertaining!”

Trembling, Kaern whispered a prayer, his fear making him strain for the words. “Tyr protect me and guide my sword, may my blade fly true and slay this evil…”
As he recited his chant, he felt the blood course back to his limbs and the fear ebb away. He felt the nearness of his god, as if here were being protected. A gentle hand seemed to close around his body and cover his skin. The calmness that followed that comes with the feeling of protection pervaded his mind, giving him a slight sense of peace.

“Prayers to your god,” spitting the last word out, “won’t help you now, child. Nor do you have the power to control that sword!” Stepping forward with amazing agility that bellied his heavy looking field plate, he threw a low thrust forward towards Kaern’s gut. Kaern managed to parry the blow at the last second, the blades sending off a shower of blue sparks as they clashed.

Growling, an orc lept forward at the open defense of the squire, but was felled by a clean blackslash from the dark paladin. “He’s mine,” he simply stated over his shoulder. None of the invaders seemed to disobey his command.

Kaern took his gleaming blade in a high arc, slashing at the knight and was easily parried. Laughing almost maniacally, Chagriz resumed the fight, sending thrusts and slashes on every corner of Kaern’s defenses. Afraid that the knight’s sword might be tipped with poison, he concentrated all his effort in merely avoiding the gray steel blade.

He was violently launched to the ground by a sudden bash from the knight, narrowly avoiding the overhead chop that followed. Struggling to breath, Kaern rolled out of the knight’s reach, trying to get a foothold to get back on his feet. From the corner of his eye, he watched as a swarm of fiery meteors streaked towards the west tower.

The concussive force of the blast tore the tower asunder, sending many of the men that didn’t have time to put up a shield or levitate away thrown from the tower in flames. Huge chunks of stone and mortar were launched from the blast, one landing close enough to Chagriz to throw him off balance.

Taking all advantage of the knight’s open defense, Kaern launched himself forward, sword thrust out in front. The blade glanced and slid down the torso plate of Chegrez’s armor, but managed to catch in the shoulder joint above the left vambrace. Slicing cleanly in, nearly severing off his arm, the knight threw his sword in a desperate arc. Withdrawing his blade, Kaern managed to dodge the sword’s cold edge.

Chegriz cried out in pain, eyes aflame and left arm hanging limp at his side, and made a mad rush at Kaern, sword swinging wildly in one hand. Stumbling backwards at the berserk onslaught, Kaern did all he could to parry the attacks. Chegrez threw his sword into a spinning disarm, and in a shower of blue sparks threw the sword to the ground. In that same instant, the knight threw himself on top of Kaern to keep him from reaching the blade.

Swinging his blade back, he caught Kaern on the side of his face, nearly tearing the left side of his jaw open. Growling like a rabid wolf, the knight raised his blade above his head, preparing to drive it deep into the young man’s heart. “So they will know who took your life, child! Let them see your marred face and remember!”
Grinning evilly, he continued in a rumbling voice, “Tell your god that Chagriz Mornblade sent you!”

Quickly grabbing the dagger on the knight’s belt underneath the limply hanging arm, he gave Chagriz a quick right hook, rattling the knight’s jaw long enough to distract him as Kaern drove the blade deep into the knight’s throat.

Reeling backwards, Chagriz dropped his blade and madly struggled to get to his feet. Stumbling, he regained his footing long enough to make a mad grab at a close orc, grabbing its throat as if to squeeze the very life out of it. With a look of agonized disgust, he launched the orc away from him. Pulling a vial from his belt, he popped the cork off the top and raised it to his lips.

Kaern made a desperate bash at the knight, knocking him to the ground once more, causing the vial to fly out of his hand, and his helm bounce along the stones near the two combatants. Chagriz’s throat quickly healed, but just enough to stop the bleeding. The knight placed his hand on Kaern’s face to push him away, and spoke something under his breath, blood frothing from his lips.

The young squire’s body was wracked with more pain than he had felt in his life. His body spasmed, and his eyes seemed to go white for a moment, but summoning all of the strength he had left in himself, Kaern slammed his fist heard into the knight’s throat. Once, twice, three times, he landed square hits, he felt the windpipe give way and his neck break.

“Tell him for me!” Kaern said painfully to the fresh corpse. Coughing, he wiped the fresh blood from his mouth and raised himself up from the body. Nearly doubling over, he felt his side and knew that his rib was broken. Knowing that to stay here he would be done for, Kaern stood and walked back towards Saxil’s body quickly.


[This message has been edited by ShadowDrake (edited 07-18-2001).]

[This message has been edited by ShadowDrake (edited 07-27-2001).]

[Yayaril]

Good story! Although, at one point, Casnar became Castun =9


Yayaril