But it feels so good.

[satan]

The old man enjoyed the feel of the salt air on his face most of all. There were many things he loved; His wife, his sons, his grandsons. The wooden longboat he had built with his father as a child, the thrill of full net drawn from the sea...

But the sea air most of all.

They were making a good clip, despite the fact it was a windless day. His son, a beast of a man in his late fourties,was manning the oars; oars which has been enchanted by a visiting mage many years ago, propelling the craft with little effort back towards the village. The days catch had been bountiful; the smokehouse will be full tonight. Land Ahoy.

Something was wrong. Smoke. Too much smoke. Not the ever present chimney smoke as if the case of all homes in the permafrost of northern Skal, something else. There was a fire in the village.

That sound. Carrying over the water; a faint sound.

Screams.



To be continued.....

[satan]

Darkness...

Flashes of consciousness. He knew it hurt. He could feel pain throughout his old body. Never in his 67 years had he felt such pain.

The face of a one eyed man was the first thing he saw when his eyes opened. How much time had passed? He had no way of knowing. The pain was less. It still hurt, but it was manageable. His wounds, which were many, were dressed. His leg was splinted. Judging by the pain, it had been broken. The man with the eye patch smiled down at him. A satisfied smile.

"Good, you are awake" the man stated flatly as he offered a hand to pull the old man up to a sitting position. As he sat up he noticed where he was for the first time. The floor of his cabin. Everything was in disarray, the chairs, the table, the cabinets; all overturned and broken. And the floor and walls were pooled and splattered with ..blood? Long dried.

And he started to remember.


To be continued....

[satan]

It didn't seem real. All of them, all but the children. Dead. Slaughtered like animals. The children, taken. Put in chains and taken back to their ship, to be sold into bondage.

How could it be real?

Most of the village burned, everything of any value taken.

How did they find me? Did my past catch up? Is this my fault?

The thoughts circled through his mind.

The one eyed man was not lying. It was all true.

Through the next day's the one eyed man sat patiently, tending to the unconsolable old man's wounds and keeping him fed.

An old man, too weak to hold a sword or walk any distance, too poor to hire mercenaries. Powerless to avenge his wife, his sons, his people. Powerless to rescue the children;among them two of his own grandchildren.

They will have a life of slavery, while those that killed his wife, his sons, grow fat off the profits. While he could do nothing. Despair.


Finally, of the third day, the one eyed man spoke.

"What if I could offer you the means to right this injustice?"

To be continued....

[satan]

As nightfall of the 15th day fell, he knew he was getting close. As part of the deal, the one eyed man had told him their destination. With his newfound strength he was able to propel his craft with his magical oars at impressive speed, to cut what was a 12 day voyage down to six. He had since been tracking them from where they put down anchor, an easy enough thing to do considering the size of their group.

On that 15th night their campfire was still in embers, they were but a day ahead. By tommorow at this time he will have had his justice.

He said a small prayer to the maimed god and made camp, daring to smile for the first time in weeks.

To be continued...

[satan]

The children sat huddled by the fire, obviously terrified. The smell of charred flesh permeated the air, as a dozen of so unrecognizably charred corpses smouldered and smoked, scattered about the area. It was done.

And it had only cost him his soul.

A low price really. His years were growing shorter. Everyone he knew and loved were gone. His home was gone. He had saved his grandson, his only living kin, as well as 6 others, from the living death of slavery. What did the soul of one old man matter? As he said a quick, habitual prayer to the maimed god, he couldn't help but wonder if he was even listening anymore...or if he ever had. Probably not, but something was. Of that he was grimmly certain.

All that was left to do now was to get the children back to Skaljard village.

To be continued....