Who's the Darklord? [2]
Posted: Wed Apr 14, 2021 1:07 pm
Vaedn Bloodhawk does not doubt who the Darklord is. And it's not him! It's the bad one, the maddened Sheepman who infected the herd; it's the Stickman.
Everything was fine before the Stickman came. Vaedn's people would sail the wild, grey seas. They did business with the strong and took from the weak, as is natural. Sheep Island was a regular stop.
The Sheep People were small and fearful. Vaedn's people would raid their little towns, took food and lumber and anything else they pleased; made merry with Sheep Women and the beer brewed by the Sheep priests in their stone church; they would sell their captives as slaves across the wild, grey sea.
Such was normal and such was natural, for Vaedn's people were tall and strong, children of the Howling God of wind and wave! -- and the Sheep People were small and fearful, and their god was small and fearful.
It was all in accordance with nature and tradition.
Then came the bad one, the mad one.
Vaedn was leader that year. He led his ships onto Sheep Island's shore under cover of fog, and they caught a whole village in one go!
Vaedn led the sacrifice to the Howling God himself, for such good fortune must be a divine blessing! He killed the old and the weak, all the ones who would not survive the trip to market.
And Vaedn led his men in merry-making. They drank the beer and toasted the Sheep People's hard work. They dallied with the pretty women and made the men play music. They re-dedicated the temple of the Sheep People's little god to the Howling God, washing the altar with sea water and blood and tears.
Such was in the order of things!
Then the winds would not blow, so Vaedn's troop was stuck on Sheep Island. Vaedn led his men in more raids, but the Sheep People had run into the forest. Such was only natural, but it did leave Vaedn's men bored. So he ordered them to scout the island. It might help on future raids, after all.
On one such trip, Vaedn first saw the Stickman. They were separated by a gorge, a deep gap in the low mountain at the heart of Sheep Island: too deep and too wide to cross.
Across the gap, Vaedn saw the little Sheep Man with his stick walk up to his own fine, tall kinsman Jarri. Jarri roared with laughter and asked whether the little man was offering him kindling.
And against all reason and nature, the Stickman attacked Jarri. The two of them fought. And Jarri was knocked down.
Vaedn and his companions groaned with sympathy, because tradition said Jarri must call a man who beat him fair blood kin and welcome him. Jarri did start to congratulate the Sheep Man, started to joke he would not call him brother... and the unthinkable happened.
The little Stickman killed Jarri by crushing his throat.
Clearly he was mad. Killing the old and the weak was as nature intended. But a strong, healthy fighting man? That was blasphemy!
Vaedn ordered a hunt for the Stickman, but things started going more and more wrong. His tall, armoured warriors walked into pit traps and snares in the woods. At night, flying rocks and burning arrows were flung at the becalmed ships. A madness, a wicked evil had gripped the Sheep People, and the Stickman was the craziest of them all.
They killed; he killed; not the weak and elderly, but the strong and prideful. And they did not care how they killed. They grew more and more brazen, and the winds... would... not... come!
In the end, Vaedn decided to end the battle by killing all of the mad Sheep People. He had the captives, the slaves, sacrificed alive one by one, let their screams echo across the grassy fields and the dark forest and the low mountain. He expected the foolish Sheep People to come.
And they came. Under cover of darkness, covered in black mud, wielding poisoned weapons. Vaedn waded through the battle, sword in hand, the screams of mad Sheep People mingling with the screams of his brothers until he could not tell them apart.
Around him, the town burned. The ships were burning. And then there he was.
The Stickman.
Vaedn remembers the unnatural hatred in his enemy's face. He remembers running the little man through. He also remembers the crushing blow to his throat. It is a miracle of the Howling God that he survived, even if his voice has been weak ever since and it hurts to feast and drink.
According to his men, the Stickman survived as well; carried off by his men. Vaedn hopes to meet his enemy again, so he can offer him up to the Howling God. Maybe then the deity will lift his curse of endless fog on the horizon, of winds that only blow inland and a tide that leads nowhere.
Yes, killing the monster who made everything go wrong must be the key.
But the years move on, and the island is wrong. Some of Vaedn's men have deserted, built little towns and cautiously trade with and do work for the Sheep People. The madness is in all of them now, for they say vile things about Vaedn, call him a monster, praise the Stickman as the leader of their Resistance.
Yes, they are mad.
The Stickman is wicked and mad, a breaker of the cycle of nature, a murderer of strong fighting men.
Vaedn is the hero.
Don't you agree...?
Who's the Darklord?
Everything was fine before the Stickman came. Vaedn's people would sail the wild, grey seas. They did business with the strong and took from the weak, as is natural. Sheep Island was a regular stop.
The Sheep People were small and fearful. Vaedn's people would raid their little towns, took food and lumber and anything else they pleased; made merry with Sheep Women and the beer brewed by the Sheep priests in their stone church; they would sell their captives as slaves across the wild, grey sea.
Such was normal and such was natural, for Vaedn's people were tall and strong, children of the Howling God of wind and wave! -- and the Sheep People were small and fearful, and their god was small and fearful.
It was all in accordance with nature and tradition.
Then came the bad one, the mad one.
Vaedn was leader that year. He led his ships onto Sheep Island's shore under cover of fog, and they caught a whole village in one go!
Vaedn led the sacrifice to the Howling God himself, for such good fortune must be a divine blessing! He killed the old and the weak, all the ones who would not survive the trip to market.
And Vaedn led his men in merry-making. They drank the beer and toasted the Sheep People's hard work. They dallied with the pretty women and made the men play music. They re-dedicated the temple of the Sheep People's little god to the Howling God, washing the altar with sea water and blood and tears.
Such was in the order of things!
Then the winds would not blow, so Vaedn's troop was stuck on Sheep Island. Vaedn led his men in more raids, but the Sheep People had run into the forest. Such was only natural, but it did leave Vaedn's men bored. So he ordered them to scout the island. It might help on future raids, after all.
On one such trip, Vaedn first saw the Stickman. They were separated by a gorge, a deep gap in the low mountain at the heart of Sheep Island: too deep and too wide to cross.
Across the gap, Vaedn saw the little Sheep Man with his stick walk up to his own fine, tall kinsman Jarri. Jarri roared with laughter and asked whether the little man was offering him kindling.
And against all reason and nature, the Stickman attacked Jarri. The two of them fought. And Jarri was knocked down.
Vaedn and his companions groaned with sympathy, because tradition said Jarri must call a man who beat him fair blood kin and welcome him. Jarri did start to congratulate the Sheep Man, started to joke he would not call him brother... and the unthinkable happened.
The little Stickman killed Jarri by crushing his throat.
Clearly he was mad. Killing the old and the weak was as nature intended. But a strong, healthy fighting man? That was blasphemy!
Vaedn ordered a hunt for the Stickman, but things started going more and more wrong. His tall, armoured warriors walked into pit traps and snares in the woods. At night, flying rocks and burning arrows were flung at the becalmed ships. A madness, a wicked evil had gripped the Sheep People, and the Stickman was the craziest of them all.
They killed; he killed; not the weak and elderly, but the strong and prideful. And they did not care how they killed. They grew more and more brazen, and the winds... would... not... come!
In the end, Vaedn decided to end the battle by killing all of the mad Sheep People. He had the captives, the slaves, sacrificed alive one by one, let their screams echo across the grassy fields and the dark forest and the low mountain. He expected the foolish Sheep People to come.
And they came. Under cover of darkness, covered in black mud, wielding poisoned weapons. Vaedn waded through the battle, sword in hand, the screams of mad Sheep People mingling with the screams of his brothers until he could not tell them apart.
Around him, the town burned. The ships were burning. And then there he was.
The Stickman.
Vaedn remembers the unnatural hatred in his enemy's face. He remembers running the little man through. He also remembers the crushing blow to his throat. It is a miracle of the Howling God that he survived, even if his voice has been weak ever since and it hurts to feast and drink.
According to his men, the Stickman survived as well; carried off by his men. Vaedn hopes to meet his enemy again, so he can offer him up to the Howling God. Maybe then the deity will lift his curse of endless fog on the horizon, of winds that only blow inland and a tide that leads nowhere.
Yes, killing the monster who made everything go wrong must be the key.
But the years move on, and the island is wrong. Some of Vaedn's men have deserted, built little towns and cautiously trade with and do work for the Sheep People. The madness is in all of them now, for they say vile things about Vaedn, call him a monster, praise the Stickman as the leader of their Resistance.
Yes, they are mad.
The Stickman is wicked and mad, a breaker of the cycle of nature, a murderer of strong fighting men.
Vaedn is the hero.
Don't you agree...?
Who's the Darklord?