Castle Paradox

[Jazz_Man]

Not sure if this is really the appropriate place to put this... but here goes. I wrote this a few years ago.

Oh, and I'm not sure if there's a limit to how many characters per post... so I'ma break it up.

Edit: Oh... my... god... I apologize. I just now, after posting this whole thing, decided to read the "What this forum is about" thing... and I broke a couple of rules... I apologize... but I have no where to host it to link to... Well, if it's too much trouble, though, lemme know, and I'll delete it... or the mod can delete it... whatever. Again, I'm sorry for the uberlong posts.

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The Road to Dunbirth
By Colin Sandall


The Archer came to me again. Same as always, high in the branches, wearing the same dark brown tunic he always had, the red bow clutched in his hand, his other hand grasping the nearest limb. Always delivering messages, always paying my rewards for the last bounty I had earned. It was a sick little cycle him and I had. He'd appear out of the forest tops, he'd throw me a bag of gold in the amount of whatever the last kill was worth, then he'd assign me a new job. Rarely, he'd perhaps exchange a small bit of conversation with me, but usually left as swiftly as he'd arrived. This time seemed no different.
He swung onto a tree branch about 10 feet above my head. I reached upward to catch the tiny bag of gold or whatever he deemed fit to reward me with. This time...the load seemed a bit lighter.
"What's this?" I asked him as I brought down the scroll he had placed in my hand, "Hand writing messages now? What's the occasion?"
"This one's directly from the King." he replied nonchalantly
"...I thought you worked FOR the King..." I asked.
"I usually work for his messengers. I simply deliver them. This time, however, King John requested to see me personally."
"No simple orc hunt this time, I guess?"
"No no, 'fraid not. This one requires more tactics and...Thievery...in a sense. The King has heard of the many orcs you have slain...but he's beginning to doubt the numbers."
"Hog's wallow....doubt my skills, dare he? I don't care if he IS the ki-..."
"RECENTLY," the Archer interrupted, "we have received word of orc movements on the low road to the King's castle at Dunbirth. Your job is to simply walk the road...avoid as many people and living things as you can, as always, and slay as many orcs as you can. As proof of each orc, you must scalp them and place them in your satchel. If the number is satisfying to the king, he pays you for your troubles, and continues to support your hunting. If you fail to reach a desired amount, then we simply stop our patronage."
"And if I decide not to take this one?"
"You simply have no choice. I really am sorry, but it's the King's wishes." and as quickly as he had dropped from the canopy, he ascended into it.
Grasping the scroll, I slid off the ribbon and slowly unrolled it. Glancing over the broad black letters of the King's scribes, I began to realize everything the archer had told me was true. And at the bottom, to destroy my doubts, the King's seal. It was true. I was to completely empty the road to Dunbirth if I was to continue earning my living as a bounty hunter. I was almost angry, but at the same time excited for this opportunity to perhaps get to meet the king one on one. After all, I have been working for him for several months now. The Archer had told me that, up until recently of course, King John considered me his best Orc slayer, so finally, I was getting my chance to meet the King face to face. Anyways, no time to waste. I had to reach the road before nightfall, for Nighttime is prime orc hunting conditions...

[Jazz_Man]

As a last minute decision, I decided to stop through Barrenkirk on the way. It was night, the town was asleep, the road to Dunbirth was lying before me, but I decided to stop for provisions for the night. Being a bounty hunter, I found myself avoiding human contact when I could, so I figured it best to break into a nearby shop and take what I need. Locating a small building on the edge of the town, I slowly and cautiously made my way to the window. Through the moonlight, I could make out the shapes of the items on the shelves. Ah, precisely what I need, I thought to myself, as I tried the doorknob, in hopes the careless shopkeep had forgotten to latch it. Having no luck with the door, I made my way around to a side window. I grasped the butt of my sword firmly, and then I hammered it into one of the pieces of glass. The shattering was a bit louder than I had anticipated, so I waited. I held my breath for what seemed like 10 minutes, until I was sure I had not woken anyone. I began to strip the window piece by piece from the frame. I have my own method to doing things which others deem strange. Consider it my "calling card", if you will. Slowly scoring the old partially decaying wood, removing piece after piece of it then gently sliding out the panes of glass. Slowly...cautiously...precisely. Piece after piece. Pane after pane, the window was becoming a pile of waste at my feet. Piece by piece, pane by pane, rubble by rubble. I began to work more quickly now, as the window was more then half disassembled. Slowly, I slid the last several panes of glass out, adding them to the pile at my feet. I lowered the last pane to the ground, afterwhich I crept into the gaping mouth of the building. So cautiously did I move that I doubted even myself was awake. I quickly slithered through the shop, picking up anything and everything I would need or could use on my journey through the forest road.
I spied a row of torches hung on the wall, waiting for a customer to buy one. Thinking that I would perhaps have use of one, I moved to the other side of the shop to obtain one. Hastily, I grabbed a torch off of the rack. However, the torch I had chosen seemed to be the support for the rest of them. I turned to walk away, but was startled by the sound of several torches smashing to the floor. I spun around to see them all in a pile on the floor. I paused for a moment, wondering if, perhaps, the noise had gone unnoticed, but only for a moment I paused, as I realized I could not risk the chance. I scrambled my belongings into my arms and made for the window. Almost there, I thought...until I heard a noise behind me.
Spinning around, I saw a man before me, apparently armed with a dagger, ready to strike me. He was startled, as was I. I gazed into his eyes for a brief moment, as I slowly realized, in the dark, he was no man. He was an orc. An orc had come down the stairs ready to defend a shop that was likely not his own. Why? I asked myself, Why? Was the town over run by orcs? Had I fallen into a trap laid for me?
For a moment, I forgot where I was, but then I dropped my load and drew my sword as the orc began to charge at me. Barely making it in time, our blades crashed like the clash of lightning on a calm evening. Mere inches from my face, I glared into his eyes once more, this time, the anger apparent from him, and perhaps a little bit of fear. Oh no, he had not expected me to draw so quickly and smoothly, no. He had expected this to be a quick kill. I, however, intended to prove him wrong. I threw the devil back off of me, and for a moment, he lost his balance. At this moment, I charged, sword before me, aimed for his heart. The beast parried with the dagger, and hit me on the shoulder with his tightly clenched fist. Dazed for a second, only a second, I whirled around in time to see him bringing the dagger down upon me. However, I was much quicker, as I simply extended my arm, and let the sword heavily scrap across his stomach. For a third and final time, our eyes met. Perhaps he could see my hatred and satisfaction, for I could definitely see his fear and pain, all blazing within the black abyss of his pupils. He was no more, and I was everything now. I had slain him, and he felt it. He knew it. Whatever doubt he may have had, when our eyes met, his doubts were cast aside, and he accepted death.
I kicked his body off of me, and watched it slam to the ground. Wiping a little sweat from my face, I decided to best hurry and depart. I collected my belongings once more after sheathing my sword again. I made for the window in haste...until I remembered the King's bounty. The scalp of any orc I slew. Well why not? I thought. I turned around to go back and claim my prize from the body.
To my horror, the orc had undergone a transformation of some kind. I let out a moan of terror and astonishment, as I realized the figure lying before me was no Orc, but was in fact the limp remains of a man. The gash in his abdomen appeared a sickly black in the darkness, more vivid now then it had been before. The old man, clutching a small kitchen knife, was dressed in his nightclothes. This was no orc, I thought, but how could it not be? I saw the orc merely seconds before!
Feeling a strong sickness come over me, I dove out of the window and ran for the forest, as if perhaps the Devil himself had rung an alarm bell to wake the town and send them after the murderous heathen to commit such a crime. I simply ran and ran until I could make out no shapes around me. Finally, I stopped and dropped my belongings in front of me.
I collapsed to my knees to first take in what I had done, and make sense of what I had seen. I sat there in the brush for perhaps an hour, simply aghast at the actions of the evening thus far.

[Jazz_Man]

Enough, I thought. They'll never know it was I. And besides, I must hunt orc in the night. I began to feel better. The thought of hunting orc assuaged my poor soul? How sickening had I become! Alas, I was to hunt orc tonight, or never hunt again. It was as simple as that. Make my living tonight, or live as a vagabond the rest of my life. The memory of the shopkeeper was fading faster and faster as I gathered my belongings into my pack and began to march on down the road to Dunbirth. It was a long walk for the night, and I was to reach the King's court by high noon.
After wandering for a good 15 minutes, I found myself back on the road once again. I followed it blindly into the darkness of the forest. I could make out vague shapes of trees and branches, but nothing more. I walked for probably hours of uneventful travel. I can not remember a thing about that walk, or what I was thinking during it...only that, after several hours, I spied, in the distance, the light of a fire.
I snuck off the road a few yards and watched. The fire was a good 100 yards in front of me...and I could make out several shapes around it. An orc encampment, I thought to myself. This may not be so easy. I slowly crept up so I could make out more clearly what was surrounding the fire. Orcs, all right, and there were 5. 2 appeared to be talking to each other, and the other 3 seemed asleep. Silently, I made my way around so I was behind the 2 orcs. I decided it best to dispatch both at the same time, so to avoid them alerting each other. Ah, but what of the screams? As simple as slitting their throats. I am a genius, I thought. I drew a dagger in one hand, my sword in the other. The orcs were 20 feet from me now. Sitting, unaware of my presence, totally enveloped in conversation. I crept closer still, quieter still; this would take a quick hand and a swift foot. 15 feet. Now I could make out, in the vague firelight that each was holding a small hatchet or ax of some kind. They had been chosen for the night watch, it seemed. The fools, no idea of me behind them, and the 3 asleep merely off dreaming of better times. The 2 awake, growing more tired with each step I took. No idea what was about to befall them. 10 feet. Moving slower and slower still, each step echoed in my mind as though it were a thousand cannons all aimed at me firing from all directions, but only in my mind, for I was quiet as a mouse. Each step, softer, each step easier, each step closer. My anxiety began to overtake me as I could only focus on the slaughter of these orcs. 5 feet now, almost there. Only a few more steps. Each would have to be meticulously placed, each must be soft, must be quiet, each must be simple and calm. Each must be it's own stroke of genius. Each step grew quieter, grew softer, and calmer, and now, the cannons in my ears began to sing, as heavenly angels ready to welcome these new occupants. However, the angels did not realize that I had every intention on sending them to Hell then to Heaven. I was upon them now, and suddenly, the chorus of angels became a coven of shrieking demons in my ears, all seemed unbearable, but I was focused and intent on the task at hand. The devils seemed to beckon me on, and I prepared my blades for the strike. My mind raced as I focused on my steps being quiet, smooth, soft, calm, and trying to block out the horrid sound of the screeching demons, or maybe welcoming the cacophony. Then, with a quick jolt of my arms, it was over.
The orcs clutched at their throats, only managing a sputter before they slumped over against each other, blood draining out of their freshly sliced necks, and oozing on to the ground, like a thick red rain. The blood trailed into the fire where it then crackled and sizzled. The devils were screaming at their loudest now, as I gazed at my fresh kills, half smiling, half still in thought, always watching the blood seep out of the throats.
Just then, an orc sitting there at the fire began to awaken. No reason to risk him waking the other orcs, but by then it was too late. The orc had looked around, and was about to yell for help, but I was on top of him. I dove straight at him and buried my sword through his throat, staring the orc in his eyes, and devouring his fear through mine. His fear lasted only for a second, for then, his eyes showed me nothing but pain and suffering, and he knew he was seeing for the last time. It satisfies me to note that his last vision was of my face, smiling at him, eyes wide, teeth barred, and his own blood sprinkled on it. Perhaps he, too, could hear the devils screaming and laughing now in my ears?
I ripped the sword out sideways from his throat, creating a large gaping hole, and turned to face the remaining 2 orcs. Neither was stirred by any of this, so I quickly dispatched of them. One, I simply drove my sword through his heart and into the log he was laying on. The other, however, I slashed across the chest. The devils laughed harder and screamed louder at it, and the orc joined in the chorus, so I slashed his face. The orc continued screaming, and I simply continued slashing. The face, the arm, the chest, the stomach, anywhere and everywhere I cut the orc until, at last, he was still and the devils had finally ceased the screaming.
I gazed around, panting, at what I had done. Slightly pleased with so many kills in such little time, I began to drag the bodies in a row. After all, I had to scalp them to collect my reward. I lined the bodies up in the clearing lit by the fire. I lined the 5 orcs up in a neat little row, alternating so that one's head was by the next's feet, and so on and so on. Why, one would ask? Simply, to avoid spoiling your kill. When you scalp, you must never scalp the same direction twice in a row, so I like to alternate the bodies when I have a multiple kill.
I started down the line. I lifted the head of the first orc slightly, and dug my dagger into the back of his skull. I scored around to the front of the head, as a guideline. Then, I continued the gruesome circle back to the starting point. Now, it gets tricky. With an orc scalp, you simply can't lift off the skin. You have to gently lift a little, cut under the raised part, lift farther, cut under more, and so on. So, I grabbed the forehead of the first orc, peeled the skin back slowly and gently, and then made small cuts under the lip of skin. Occasionally, I would hit a little pocket of blood, in which case, I would have to press on the skin to seep out the excess. Then, I'd go back to the task. Lift, slice, lift, slice. This went on for a good 15 minutes on the first orc. Finally, the scalp broke free of the head, exposing the orc's skull. I rolled up the scalp, still freshly wet with blood, and placed it in my sack. Then, I moved on to the second orc.

[Jazz_Man]

It must have taken me a good hour and a half to dislodge the scalps of each orc. The sun began to shine through the trees, and I stood up, hands and legs covered in blood. Well, I thought, by the time I reach the King's court, it will be nearly noon, and I had better find a place to wash up. So, I began walking down the road. The orcs wouldn't be there in the day, oh no. Patrols of orcs usually hide during the daytime to avoid being attacked by the King's soldiers. I've never seen an orc during the day, however, as I only hunt at night. About a half-hour down the road, I found a small stream about 30 yards off. I dropped my belongings on the road, and trotted to the stream. Peering into the water, I saw my face spattered with blood, then dipped in my hands. The stream absorbed the blood almost in a hypnotic swirl as the thick red traveled downstream. I splashed my face, and watched the soft red slither down my hands, down my arms, dripping off at the elbow, and into the stream. I gently rubbed water into my face to help and loosen the blood that wouldn't simply let go. The blood was almost clean now. I watched it go farther and farther downstream. Smoothly ebbing against the sides of the stream, and spinning and twirling in the current.
At about this time, I heard footsteps behind me through the grass. I turned and saw 3 of the king's soldiers walking towards me. One looked a little upset and almost queasy. Another seemed almost angry. The third just stared blankly. Not exactly the best at social skills, I simply grinned and waved to them, and stood up. The 3 knights looked at my pants and stopped for a second, a little shocked. They moved closer to me. About 10 feet away, they stopped.
"Sir, may I ask what it is you're doing?" asked the expressionless knight.
"Cleaning up after a night of excellent orc hunting. Did you see my fresh kills on the road back there?" I replied.
"Yes," said the first knight a little shakily, "yes we did. If I may ask...how long have you 'hunted'?"
"Oh, well, I have hunted just through the night this week. But, over the past few months, I've hunted several times, mostly being quite successful. The king pays me greatly for my services of ridding his land with orcs. Well, not the king himself, but through that damned tree archer. He gives me sacks of gold for each orc I slay. But surely, you know this, working for the king?" The men seemed disturbed slightly.
"Uh...sir.... Yes...if you follow us, we shall take you to the king directly." said the second knight.
"Aah, thank you, good sirs. As I have been walking all night, I fear I may not have been able to make it to the king's court by noon. A coach will surely help me." and I went along with them. They brought me to their coach. I rode in the back of one, and 2 men sat in the driver's seat. The other knight climbed onto another coach, and we were off. I watched out the window at the trees speeding past. Gazing into the forest, wondering where more orcs would be hiding. Strangely, I found myself thinking back to the shopkeeper. I relived the night right there in the back of the coach. Breaking in, stocking my supplies...

* * *

[Jazz_Man]

"Sarge, wait until you hear this one. You know that killer on the loose recently? The North Woods Maniac? Well, me 'n' Jeff were out on patrol, and we received a call from a frantic woman, and all we could get from her was her address, so we raced over there as fast as we could. She lives in some old house up in the woods. Well, me and Jeff got up there before the sun came up, ya know? Real early. This woman meets us in the yard, and she's all crying and stuff. So, we follow her into her house...and she takes us to the back room, where we find the lady's husband or something laying dead in the back room. He was slashed across the stomach by a knife or something like that. It must've been self defense, because the guy was holding a poker. Anyways, so at the same time, I look out the back window, which was oddly enough disassembled piece by piece and I see Barry coming up a back forest path, looking pale as ever. I ask him what's up, and he simply motions for me and Jeff to follow him. I assure the lady we'll be right back, and we climb through the window into a pile of glass and wood. Shaking most of it off, Jeff and I walk down the path after Barry without a word. Eventually, we come across this campsite...only; it's almost totally covered in blood. About 10 feet off of the fire pit are the 5 bodies, all lined up...like...alternating, ya know? And...ya ready for this?...they had the skin on top of their heads taken off. Scalped, man, scalped. Some bastard scalped a group of boy scouts on a camping trip. So, Jeff almost looses it right there, and Barry simply looks away. I radio in, and ask for back up. While we're waiting, we decide to see if we can find anymore bodies, so the three of us walk a little farther down the path, almost to the road. Well, eventually, the path follows a stream, ya know? and we see...right near the bridge...a man hunched over, washing himself off....well, our instinct kicks in and we all three think, 'This is the guy' so we walk over to where he is. The man looks at us, and is covered in blood. He waves and he grins, for god's sake! The bastard grins! So, we approach him and ask him if he knew anything about the scouts....and he says he was simply killing orcs...or some crazy thing like that. Anyways, he seems cooperative and all, and by this time, squad cars have arrived to the bridge. The man agrees to come with us in the car, and he just climbs in. Anyways, my opinion? Lock the sick bastard up. Anyone who carries around the scalps of over 30 human freakin' beings deserves to rot in jail for this stuff."

[Jazz_Man]

THE END

And that's that.

Ok, so it's not OHR related... I just wanted feedback to see how good my storytelling skills are, ya know? So, any and all thoughts and comments are welcome.

[Uncommon]

Well, it's particularly long. It will take me a bit to get through this...

[madhatter]

Ditto.

[LeRoy_Leo]

Was that the entire story?... I know, that was a stupid question.
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Planning Project Blood Summons, an MMORPG which will incinerate all of the others with it's sheer brilliance...

---msw188 ---
"Seriously James, you keep rolling out the awesome like gingerbread men on a horror-movie assembly line. "

[Jack Slater]

It reminds me of the movie " A Beutiful Mind " .
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- David Aumiller
Lead Art Director, Realmsoft

["I kill all who where the blue armor. "]

[Roach Lir]

What movies that then?
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