The name of the Wolf
The heavy rain beat against the bard’s heavy leather coat as if it was a drum. A consistent drone, like a swarm of bees, which rang in her ears. It was close to sundown and the dying light coupled with the curtain of rain the distant road was slowly fading from her view. She started to wonder if her decision to keep going was a wise one. The last town she had been through hadn’t exactly a ripe spot for her to ply her trade but there had been an Inn, which at least promised hot food and a relatively warm bed. The inhabitants of the town would probably have been left in abject horror after a single jaunty folk song.
She lifted her gaze from the cobbled road in front of her feet and her eyes happened across a speck of light. Her gait slowed and her head turned in slow arcs. There was no reason to consider that this light meant anything except safety, a farm or a town, somewhere to lay her head. But experience is a bitter teacher and past follies had tempered the bard’s caution. However she kept to the road afraid that, if she left it, she might never find it again. She kept her steps soft and pulled her hood off and long black hair came free and more importantly the incessant drumming vanished.
This was the worst kind of weather for observation, the thick rain dulled the eyes and the patter of the droplets breaking on the cobbled road muted all sound. The bard strained against the deficiencies, unable to discern anything amongst the dreary dusk except for the muted light. As she slowly made her way forward the light began to split up, like smaller sections just breaking away, but slowly ever so slowly. She stopped and so did the chunk of light. Smiling to herself she picked up the pace, these where either the most industrious bandits ever, or a town where she could rest.
The town had a gate, made of wood. From the relative size of the gate to the walls it must have been supposed to be imposing but the impression was rather lost on the bard. When someone has seen gates made of two solid pieces of bedrock the size of houses wood rather loses its intimidation factor. There was an Iron Gate set into the wall to the left of the gate. The bard approached it and considered it for a moment. You can’t knock on an iron gate, can you? While she internalised this dilemma a slot in the door behind the Iron Gate opened. The eyes in the gap considered her for a moment then the slot snapped shut. She raised an eyebrow for a moment then lowered it hurriedly as the door was opened. The man was old; she could tell that much but the heavy raincoat obscured most of him. A heavy cowl would have hidden his face completely if he wasn’t holding a lantern next to his face.
“Bit late for a lass like ‘ureself to be wanderin’ round ain it?”
The bard’s eyebrow went up again. “On the contrary I enjoy a nice night-time stroll, it’s not as if I had a choice in the matter is it?”
The man smiled. “Keep ya knickers from bunchin’ lass, was only askin’, now what business do ya have in the small but bustlin’ town of Ablehaven?”
The bard flourished her hands, “I’m a bard, what other business could I possibly have? I come to entertain and educate in all things real and perhaps imaginary.”
“And filch a few tings on the way out of town I’ve no doubt.”
The bard gave one small sharp laugh, “Two reasons why I’m not going to do that. One I’m not that kind of bard, two what could this `small but bustlin town` possibly hold that I might want to `filch` as you so indelicately put it?”
The man nodded his head to the side, “I suppose ure alright lass. Just give me ya name and I’ll unlock the door for ye.”
“I’m Arianna Shadow-Hand, a lady of the golden tongue guild.”
His pen scratched at the crumpled and dirty paper and Arianna swung her hood back up. The gate creaked open and Arianna stepped inside the gate into a small room. There was a table with the remains of a dinner and a half drunk pint of ale. A wooden chair was pushed back from the table, left that way from when the gatekeeper had gone to check the gate. She headed for the door on the other side of the room, the one that would take her to the main street.
“You know I think you’d look better as a blonde I do.”
Arianna looked back at the gate keeper. “I am a blonde, but blonde isn’t exactly a colour of mourning is it.”
The man drew in a breath to speak again but Arianna was already gone, the door not even had time to slouch back down onto its hinges. She stalked up the street, her previous jovial mood gone. He had no right, no right at all. She muttered obscenities under her breath, curses so foul that they had already earned her the ire of the few that she had passed.
The street curved slightly and when you add to that the abandoned market stalls it became quite an effort to thread one’s way up the street. But Arianna swung in and out of the stalls with a natural rhythm and grace. Just like growing up in Cyra. It’s been a long time though, nearly ten years now. It was still raining and for a moment Arianna looked up into the sky wondering if the rain was ever going to stop. The clouds obscured the night sky, no moon or stars to light any traveller’s way. Her eyes came back to the street in front of her particularly to the bright lights and sounds of revelry coming from an Inn. Arianna did not feel like singing for her keep tonight, she would probably spoil the songs. But she had to eat and she didn’t have much of a fall back planned, most of the gold she had made in the last town was in the pocket of that town’s tanner. Arianna shrugged the coat tighter around her; it wasn’t a purchase she regretted. So she sighed to herself and made her way to the Inn. “Sometimes I hate my job.”
The door opened easily and a wave of heat assaulted her face but she was used to it. Any Innkeeper will prefer it to be too warm rather than to cold. You could always just open a window or the door. There was no music but there it probably wouldn’t have mattered, the talking was so loud that any music would have had to be amplified at least three times before it would even be heard let alone appreciated. She made for the bartender showing the same kind of grace as when she was walking up the street. Threading her way between tables and waitresses she arrived at the bar.
“I would have offered my services but it appears your clientele are rather occupied.”
The bartender let loose a deep base laugh, “Indeed they do, I was planning on locking up early but they seem to be a little boisterous I suppose.”
Arianna and the bartender both ducked as a glass came flying towards them. “So is this the normal behaviour for this `small but bustling’ town`?”
“I see you met Old Iron-fist. Only job the poor blighter can hold down. And that’s only because of his suspicious nature. But in answer to your question, no, this isn’t normal. I think it’s some kind of bridal party.”
Arianna nodded, “A man’s getting married so he wants one more night of revelry. It’s common enough.”
The bartender picked up a mug and wiped it out, “So does seeing drunken men trash a bar make you happy? I swear when you came in here you could have soured all my stock with that scowl.”
True enough the girl’s smile had come back and was brighter than it had been. “Drunken men have their musical taste impaired and small amounts of cleavage can almost double my income. And I thought tonight was going to be a bad night.”
The bartender laughed again, “If you can get them to stop destroying the place then I’ll give you a room and a meal, I might even pay you if you keep ‘em entertained long enough.”
Arianna emptied someone else’s mug and winked, “I always hold their attention.” With that she was off to the middle of the room.
Three hours later the men had all linked arms and were swaying in time to a sad melody. It had been a profitable time; the men were so drunk that they didn’t even remember whether or not they’d tipped the bard and Arianna was less than forthcoming with information on whether they had or hadn’t. The song finished and most of them clapped, a few wiped tears from their eyes.
“Right you sorry lot, I think it’s time you went off to bed. I won’t envy you in the morning.” She added under her breath. The crowd dispersed, wandering away in little groups. Arianna sat down on the stage that they’d made out of a few tables. A quick glance at the clock mounted rather precariously on the wall behind the bar told her that it was close to three in the morning. She looked around at the chaos that had been caused, “I think that went well, or rather as well as it possibly could have gone.” She spotted pieces of the Lute she’d been leant and sighed, “There goes some of my pay.” Humming contently to herself she placed the coins into her various coins purses, it doesn’t do to keep all your coins in one place. A pair of eyes watched her from under a table close to the fire and Arianna slowly became aware of them. Just glimpses as she deposited a few coins at a time. When she was sure someone or indeed something was there she crouched down. It was a girl, only just out of her toddler years, couldn’t have been older than six. The girl started in fear when she saw Arianna’s face but Arianna just smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you. Come on out.” The girl shook her head slightly. The bard stroked her shin in mock concern then pulled out some tetra leaves. Tetra leaves were common enough but the sugary taste made them a favourite of children. The girl slowly crawled out and snatched the tetra leaves. Arianna smiled to herself and sat down by the fire. She stoked it and felt the questing fingers just as she expected. “Come and sit beside me and I’ll give you some more tetra.” The fingers stopped then slowly withdrew as the child considered the pros and cons of sitting by the strange woman who gave her sweets.
Eventually sweetness won and the child came and sat beside Arianna. Arianna made a show of reluctance as she handed over another leaf.
“I’m not sure you should be here at this time of night, should you?”
The voice was high pitched with an innocent tone. “I was cold and mama wouldn’t let me sleep with her.”
“So you came to sit by the fire, with all the big scary men around?”
The innocence was gone in her reply, “Well maybe I wasn’t cold, maybe I was scared of the monsters and mama wouldn’t let me sleep with her.”
Arianna found a piece of bread and bit off a corner. “Nightmares huh?”
“Yes.” Her voice was small, insignificant and barely audible over the crackle of the flames.
“What’s your name?”
“Olivia. Olivia Grey-Mane.”
Arianna smiled, “Well `Olivia, Olivia Grey-Mane`, how about I tell you a story and when you feel tired you go back to bed, deal?”
Olivia looked first at Arianna, then the fire, then at the pocket where Arianna had first produced the tetra leaves. She then nodded and held out a hand, “Deal.”
They solemnly shook and then Arianna crossed her legs while Olivia curled up into a ball. Olivia’s thumb on her right hand went into her mouth. Arianna’s eyes clouded over for a moment as she tried to think of a tale that was age appropriate. Ragnar the Red and the Sanguine Rose were out, blood, guts, gore and the story of a prostitute were all well and good amongst the more intoxicated older folk. The Haunted House was not something to help a small girl get over her night terrors and neither was Silent Hill. The Sands of Time was far too brutal for a six year old. Suddenly Arianna clicked her fingers, the first chapter of the Song of the Storm-Born. It was perfect, a happy life, some adventure but no `adult themes`.
“Olivia, have you ever heard of a man named Fenrir Storm-Born?”
“I sure have he was the one who went into the nether and destroyed the Ica- Icathh- Icaant…”
“…Icathian Anchor darling. So you know what he did, but just saying that kind of takes away from the story of the whole thing. The story is full of drama, excitement, tragedy and swashbuckling. Now before I start are you comfortable.”
Olivia nodded and Arianna started to speak.
“Once there was a city called the Citadel and…
… this city was the centre of the world. Everything went here, be it people or things. The reason this city was the centre of the world was because this city was where the church to the six divines was. But while this city was important to everyone at the time, it’s not yet important to us. Instead we focus on a city thirty miles to the west, on the fringes of the Tenebrae plains. This city was the third grave colony, and it was surrounded by walls as tall as four houses. But these walls weren’t to keep the villagers safe, they were meant to keep the villagers inside. The walls were built because the people in the Citadel were afraid of the people here, because they could be hurt forever but they would never cry, they would never stop to consider their wounds even for an instant. So the Citadel grouped them all the together, gave them the name Undying and sent far away from the Citadel’s golden walls.
Now the walls around the third Grave Colony were made of hollowed out bedrock and they were home to the Deathwatch. The Deathwatch was the third Colonies police force and prison guards. They kept the peace but they were very strict about who came in and out of the city. But when you considered everything about their job they did more good than harm. There were those who thought that the Undying were abominations and should be destroyed and the Deathwatch’s over-zealous…”
“Wait, do you know what over-zealous means?”
Olivia nodded and took her thumb out of mouth, “It’s when you pursue or serve something without regard for anyone else’s feelings or wellbeing.”
Arianna’s eyebrow was raised by this, “You are a smart little cookie aren’t you?”
Olivia smiled, “My daddy says I’m smarter than most people he meets in his bar.”
“So you’re fine with me adding in complicated words? Because it’s very annoying having to replace the complicated words with simple ones.”
“I don’t mind, if I don’t know a word I’ll just ask.”
“So where were we? Seriously I’ve completely forgotten.”
“The over-zealous men and them wanting to hunt the Undying.”
Arianna took another breath and the story continued.
“… And the Deathwatch’s overzealous approach to screening visitors was screening out the zealots but it was also not allowing many people to see the family and friends that had become undying.
There had initially been great concern as to whether being an Undying was a disease and if people spent too much time there then those people would in turn become Undying. But after some research it was determined that becoming an Undying was not something that could be made to happen or stopped from happening. Sometimes it happened and sometimes it didn’t. So people where free to visit but the Undying where not allowed out of their city. Eventually the screening started to happen as sometimes the people who visited came to maim, to try and make the Undying’s existence a nightmare. Because the Undying couldn’t die the people who came often cut muscles so that the Undying could no longer move. It was this brutal behaviour that led to the screening.
The Deathwatch lived in the hollowed out walls around the Grave Colony. It was a Spartan life, little heating, uncomfortable beds and few personal comforts, but it was hot food, coin in the pocket and a respectable job for many of the citadel’s middle class citizens. The jobs were made open to everyone but the lower class citizens often weren’t disciplined enough for it and the higher class citizens considered it beneath them. So as in all great story two of these kinds of people, one a noble and one a peasant were bunked together. The Peasants name was Idrik Bronze-Bone and he was dedicated but resented the nobles of the Citadel. To the nobleman’s credit he didn’t dislike Idrik just because he was a Peasant. Fenrir Storm-Born disliked Idrik because of Idrik’s resentment towards him. Fenrir had never met Idrik before his tour on the wall but Idrik acted as if Fenrir had been his worst enemy for all of his life. Our story, truly begins one night after an argument about Idrik’s missing whetstone.
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