Macktrucker
Skarr the Barbarian - origins (6)
HBC note ** Don't I feel a proper berk! This should have been episode 2, but for one reason or another it wasn't. ** So here's Elina reflecting on how she first met Skarr in the first place...**
From “My encounters with the Barbarians blade”, by Lady Elina Greypepper
Being bound in slavery has a strange effect on one’s being…and as Skarr and I found ourselves in greater difficulties than ever before, I began to remember how Skarr and I had first met. Rather than being mere weeks ago, It seemed like years since I had arranged an expedition to Arlaheim for rare ingredients, and ran into trouble with slavers for the first time. I recall that I first met the Cock o’ the North shortly after she defeated the wyrm…
“The screams and catcalls of the forest had died down a little over the last few hours of Skarr’s trek. She was grateful, the wound in her thigh needed more attention than her ministrations of water and a bit of rag to tie round could give, and she felt it going numb. She was slowing slightly on her trek, but her fury carried her along. She repeated the names in her head, Gunnerson, Macleish, Taggarhey and Bunds, over and over, Gunnerson, Macleish, Taggarhey and Bunds. Four names that made her blood rise and carry her on through the forest. Gunnerson had been the one to hold her down, Macleish had bound her, Taggarhey had wrestled her into a sack and Bunds had thrown her into the icy ocean. Her four warlords, the terror of the north. Gunnerson she would kill first. When the Northmen had been routed along the banks of the Green road, he had fled over the hills into Samaria. She had found this out from a band of marauders shortly after being washed ashore, gasping for life. He would die first, Doomsayer would have the kill. Bunds she would save until last. He had been her closest ally, her friend since her childhood; they had been of the same tribe, the Tanra. She had been securely tied and sealed within the burlap sack; he had been the one to stab her, a callous and cruel act. For that, Bunds would pay. She would kill him the last of all. Skarr would make sure he heard of the deaths of his murderous dishonourable friends, and then she would kill him. Not with Doomsayer. With her own bare hands.
As she walked, she heard a cry from just off the forest path.
“Help”, came the voice, “please, traveller!” it cried.
Skarr entered the forest clearing and saw the figure, a female, bedraggled and shoeless, chained securely to a tree.
“Undo me traveller!” cried the girl, “the Panther women have me. They intend to sell me into slavery. They sell us to Samarian traders! I am an apothecary and valuable to them!”
Skarr thought for a moment, considering her response,
“But”, she began in her thick accented broken Imperial tongue, “if I was to free you, you would die at the hands of either the Panthers, of at the hands of the beasts that roam here! If I leave you tied, the Panthers will look after you and keep you safe, dushka! I will not be the one who causes your death. Farewell.”
Skarr turned on her heel and walked off through the forest, ignoring the girl’s plaintive cries and the clanking of her chains as she struggled.
After a few minutes, Skarr became aware of someone tracking her from beyond the path, and she tensed her lithe body slightly. She continued to walk, smelling the air. Human, definitely human, she decided. She moved to the other side of the path, so to draw the attacker out onto the path. Suddenly a figure clad in furs leapt with speed at her and the two of them collapsed onto the dirt. The Panther girl wrestled herself on top of Skarr with a ferocious energy.
“These are our lands!!” the Panther spitted at her, “We get a good price for you, Norther bitch. You make good strong slave for Samaria!”
Skarr relaxed her arm muscles and let the Panther pin her arms to the ground. Then she quickly raised her leg, delivering a knee to the girl’s stomach, making her retch. Skarr threw the Panther woman onto her back, delivering an uppercut to the jaw, before standing and delivering a swift kick in her side.
Skarr surveyed her whimpering opponent,
“Pah!” she exclaimed, “I would not sully the steel of Doomsayer with your hide. Tell your tribe to stay away from me, or I will make a mountain of your severed heads!”
The girl attempted to crawl away into the forest with a whimper, but Skarr kicked her in the side harshly again, and she fell still.
Muttering a Norther curse under her breath and shaking her head, Skarr began to retrace her steps to where the prisoner had been. Sure enough, there she was, securely chained to the tree. She had given up her struggles and stood quietly.
“It would appear, Dushka, “Skarr began, “That I have either frightened away or killed your captor”.
“You can’t just leave me here!” the girl cried.
“No. I cannot!” Skarr said, thinking, “Or you will die here”.
“May I travel with you?” the girl asked, “The beasts will tear me apart, unless the other Panthers get me first!”
“Keep up the pace, and look after yourself”, Skarr replied brusquely, “I’m not a nursemaid. If you slow me, I will kill you myself.”
The girl nodded, and watched as Skarr, with three quick tugs, snapped the girl’s chains, letting them tumble to the ground with a clatter.
“Thank you”, said the girl with relief, “I’m Elina. I make potions and incantations. I can look at your wound if you’d like.”
Skarr muttered another Norther curse, before spinning on her heel and stomping off along the path, cursing in her own tongue. Elina ran along after her, suddenly feeling hundreds of eyes watching her and the barbarian as they moved through the forest. Had she just jumped from the frying pan into the fire? Elina didn’t know.”
Suddenly, Elina was shaken from her thoughts by the barking order of a slaver...
Skarr the Barbarian - origins (6)
HBC note ** Don't I feel a proper berk! This should have been episode 2, but for one reason or another it wasn't. ** So here's Elina reflecting on how she first met Skarr in the first place...**
From “My encounters with the Barbarians blade”, by Lady Elina Greypepper
Being bound in slavery has a strange effect on one’s being…and as Skarr and I found ourselves in greater difficulties than ever before, I began to remember how Skarr and I had first met. Rather than being mere weeks ago, It seemed like years since I had arranged an expedition to Arlaheim for rare ingredients, and ran into trouble with slavers for the first time. I recall that I first met the Cock o’ the North shortly after she defeated the wyrm…
“The screams and catcalls of the forest had died down a little over the last few hours of Skarr’s trek. She was grateful, the wound in her thigh needed more attention than her ministrations of water and a bit of rag to tie round could give, and she felt it going numb. She was slowing slightly on her trek, but her fury carried her along. She repeated the names in her head, Gunnerson, Macleish, Taggarhey and Bunds, over and over, Gunnerson, Macleish, Taggarhey and Bunds. Four names that made her blood rise and carry her on through the forest. Gunnerson had been the one to hold her down, Macleish had bound her, Taggarhey had wrestled her into a sack and Bunds had thrown her into the icy ocean. Her four warlords, the terror of the north. Gunnerson she would kill first. When the Northmen had been routed along the banks of the Green road, he had fled over the hills into Samaria. She had found this out from a band of marauders shortly after being washed ashore, gasping for life. He would die first, Doomsayer would have the kill. Bunds she would save until last. He had been her closest ally, her friend since her childhood; they had been of the same tribe, the Tanra. She had been securely tied and sealed within the burlap sack; he had been the one to stab her, a callous and cruel act. For that, Bunds would pay. She would kill him the last of all. Skarr would make sure he heard of the deaths of his murderous dishonourable friends, and then she would kill him. Not with Doomsayer. With her own bare hands.
As she walked, she heard a cry from just off the forest path.
“Help”, came the voice, “please, traveller!” it cried.
Skarr entered the forest clearing and saw the figure, a female, bedraggled and shoeless, chained securely to a tree.
“Undo me traveller!” cried the girl, “the Panther women have me. They intend to sell me into slavery. They sell us to Samarian traders! I am an apothecary and valuable to them!”
Skarr thought for a moment, considering her response,
“But”, she began in her thick accented broken Imperial tongue, “if I was to free you, you would die at the hands of either the Panthers, of at the hands of the beasts that roam here! If I leave you tied, the Panthers will look after you and keep you safe, dushka! I will not be the one who causes your death. Farewell.”
Skarr turned on her heel and walked off through the forest, ignoring the girl’s plaintive cries and the clanking of her chains as she struggled.
After a few minutes, Skarr became aware of someone tracking her from beyond the path, and she tensed her lithe body slightly. She continued to walk, smelling the air. Human, definitely human, she decided. She moved to the other side of the path, so to draw the attacker out onto the path. Suddenly a figure clad in furs leapt with speed at her and the two of them collapsed onto the dirt. The Panther girl wrestled herself on top of Skarr with a ferocious energy.
“These are our lands!!” the Panther spitted at her, “We get a good price for you, Norther bitch. You make good strong slave for Samaria!”
Skarr relaxed her arm muscles and let the Panther pin her arms to the ground. Then she quickly raised her leg, delivering a knee to the girl’s stomach, making her retch. Skarr threw the Panther woman onto her back, delivering an uppercut to the jaw, before standing and delivering a swift kick in her side.
Skarr surveyed her whimpering opponent,
“Pah!” she exclaimed, “I would not sully the steel of Doomsayer with your hide. Tell your tribe to stay away from me, or I will make a mountain of your severed heads!”
The girl attempted to crawl away into the forest with a whimper, but Skarr kicked her in the side harshly again, and she fell still.
Muttering a Norther curse under her breath and shaking her head, Skarr began to retrace her steps to where the prisoner had been. Sure enough, there she was, securely chained to the tree. She had given up her struggles and stood quietly.
“It would appear, Dushka, “Skarr began, “That I have either frightened away or killed your captor”.
“You can’t just leave me here!” the girl cried.
“No. I cannot!” Skarr said, thinking, “Or you will die here”.
“May I travel with you?” the girl asked, “The beasts will tear me apart, unless the other Panthers get me first!”
“Keep up the pace, and look after yourself”, Skarr replied brusquely, “I’m not a nursemaid. If you slow me, I will kill you myself.”
The girl nodded, and watched as Skarr, with three quick tugs, snapped the girl’s chains, letting them tumble to the ground with a clatter.
“Thank you”, said the girl with relief, “I’m Elina. I make potions and incantations. I can look at your wound if you’d like.”
Skarr muttered another Norther curse, before spinning on her heel and stomping off along the path, cursing in her own tongue. Elina ran along after her, suddenly feeling hundreds of eyes watching her and the barbarian as they moved through the forest. Had she just jumped from the frying pan into the fire? Elina didn’t know.”
Suddenly, Elina was shaken from her thoughts by the barking order of a slaver...