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- TITLE:THE RASHTULS BLADE by RAGNAR of THE MAGIC GUILD
- PALETTE:0333 0a99 0aab 097b
-
- THE RASHTULS BLADE
-
- By Ragnar of The Magic Guild
-
-
- After a last look into the broken eyes, the young Thorvalian took a sheet over
- the face of the corps, lying in front of him. Slowly he got up from his knees
- and with empty eyes he stared into the dim coolness of the dark room he was
- standing in. Watching his destroyed, vanished home without realizing it -
- seemingly emotionless.
-
- "Ragnar!" the voice was the one of an old woman, still there was a spirit of
- pride in it, a pride that doesn't allow emotions - even if everything one has
- loved was wept out of ones life. "Ragnar," as if he was awakening from a
- unpleasant dream just to find himself in an even more unpleasant reality, the
- young man turned around and silently watched the hetwoman Oljagars Skjundelan
- coming by. She was the legitimate leader of the Ottajaskir of Skardan - the
- clan Ragnar has lived in his entire live, huddled into the bitter friendliness
- of a Thorvalian youth.
-
- She was a slim grey-haired woman, still with an aura of unbearable strength. A
- common sight for young Ragnar since she was hetwoman for most of his life.
- Naturally it was her to talk to him in this black hour of sorrow. He has only
- been out fishing with the other younger man of Skardan. The wildness of the
- sea, this was their home, no one in whole Aventuria would ever have seen someone
- more common with the ocean and the storm, no ship faster in the blows of the
- mighty clouds than a ship under the hands of Thorvalians.
- This time however - as if mighty Efferd wanted to give them a sign - nearly all
- their endeavours in fishing failed and so they decided to return after just four
- days of being out on sea. Still, they went too late...
- Skardan lay in flames and many had died. The hated sinful Sons of the Snake
- fell like a swarm of raging bees over the village and in all their skulduggery,
- killed anyone in sight after returning to the woods from were they came. A big
- woe lay over Skardan as they returned and Ragnar had to deplore his parents and
- his dear sister.
-
- "Now, my Ragnar, son of Olrik born in Harl," she still used the old formular of
- adressing people even despite the fact that since almost two hundred years
- "real" names have become fashionable also in Skardan, after the Midlands got
- accepted as tradepartners by the proud Thorvalians. Ragnar Olriksson-Harl -
- this was his real name, "Now, that your father has died, it's up to me to tell
- you the truth."
- Ragnar was too tired as to understand what she meant and so he just nodded
- gently. "Ragnar, as a little boy you always wished that you would have taken
- part in the big and glorious battle at Rashtul, where the Sons of the Snake
- sieged the city. As you know, finally after three years and two months the
- brave Thorvalian forced them back and freed the land in skirmishes. Your father
- was one of the succeedors."
- Still, Ragnar remained quite.
- "Your father was an outrageous fighter, but not only due to his and his friends
- fighting skills the victory laughed ours. There also were thirteen blades in
- the game. Thirteen blades of unnamingly big power. Your father - Ragnar -
- carried one. It was "The Blade of Defence" - also called Rashtuls Blade since
- then. Now that he died it's up to you to carry the weapon."
-
- With these words she turned around and waved the other oldest, who came shortly
- after her into the remains of the room to uncover what was hide for decades.
- They stepped over to the huge fireplace and drew away stone after stone.
- Finally they stepped at the sides with an image of awe on their pale faces.
-
- Oljagars took Ragnar nearer to the fireplace and he was able to see a enormous
- weapon lie there in the ground. For all the years it was hidden under the
- glowing heat - yet the fire did not harm it. With all the power she could
- afford, Oljagars took the weapon and held it into the weak light, flashing
- through the broken window.
-
- In the shape of an oversized axe, there was an almost two metres long iron staff
- with an ornamented grip at its one end. The blade itself was fastened at the
- upper end of the staff and was of about one metres length and 40cm width.
- A massive instrument of slaughtery. Ragnar knew that one single strike of this
- mighty blade could have killed an ox, still he felt the special vibration in it
- as he took it from her. This blade without no doubt had magical skills and
- unknowingly, he shivered.
- It weighed at least 25kg and only strong men like him would even be able to use
- it in a fight. Still, also his trained body - strenghtened from hard work, not
- from excercises and tournaments - wouldn't be able to use it fast enough to give
- a proper parade. In the case a parade would be needful, what seemed quite
- unprobable when the first strike was taken by the possessor of this blade.
-
- "When father had this weapon of defence, why didn't he use it to save Skardan
- and himself?" He asked full of sorrow. "He didn't use it because he was a wise
- man. Since the battle at Rashtul, the Sons of the Snake keep on searching for
- all of the thirteen blades and if only one of them would have escaped, a whole
- army of snakemen would appear in a hurry to get grasp on this one. They already
- have gotten six of the blades and it's about time to stop them before they get
- into possession of the seventh one. Your father knew it but decided not to go.
- I as hetwoman will know tell you to pay for his duties. I order you to find the
- other carriers of the blades and together you shall give the missing blades back
- to our people!"
-
- Ragnar was too astounded to reply and just stared with an opened mouth at the
- mighty axe in his hand and the play of his triceps and bicepes as he stretched
- and bend his arm to and fro, to and fro. The tatooed fight of the glorious
- Efferd - the whaleshaped god of all Thorvalians - with Kanak the snake - which
- stands for the end of the good world - coiled around his arm was transformed in
- grotesque movements.
-
- He had only an hour to get his package and some food for his long travel and
- then he already stood on the small hill in front of Skardan with Oljagars who
- still kept on telling him about the tradition and the glory of his quest. Then
- with a last look on the beloved vilage of his youth, the 20 year old turned
- around and trotted away northwards.
-
- Oljagars stood still as a monument of eternity on the hill. If Ragnar would
- have turned around for a last time he would have seen a shape of unbeaten pride
- with a fire red and golden of the cold but lifespending sun of Thorvalia in her
- back. A sun that was slowly declining into the sea to report Efferd from what
- she has seen over the day. Surley Efferd nodded goodwillingly about this man,
- going to fight for his glory - despite being no fighter but a son of a poor
- fishers family.
-
- Ragnar would have seen her shape - but not her tears that slowly creeped down
- her cheeks. Ragnar was her youngest grandchild and she had loved him for
- everything he was: A young warmhearted reliable hothead with an absolute
- feeling for justice. She shed silent hot tears for a young man who still hasn't
- found his tears under the shock of finding his whole family killed and who has
- been sent out into cold and bitter lonelyness to fight for what remained...
-
-
- signed
- Vorund D'Entragon
- taken from "The Tales of Thorvalia"
-
-
-