Page 1 of 1
Northman
Posted: Sat Aug 30, 2014 10:14 am
by Iomhar
()
Re: Northman
Posted: Sat Aug 30, 2014 10:14 am
by Iomhar
()
Re: Northman
Posted: Sat Aug 30, 2014 10:15 am
by Iomhar
“I kill a dragon!”
Magnus grinned. It sounded good!
In truth the creature was young, no bigger than wryvern, and aye Randall and Heinrich had done as much as he. But the tavern didn’t need to know that. A good lie was worth free ale and maybe loose women.
The grin faded. The patrons had moved away from him when he first entered and weren’t taking the bait. They looked at him with a mix of wariness, fear and curiosity and stayed away, not even talk of dragons bringing them near. No free ale tonight.
He knew why, he wasn’t stupid. He was more than a head taller than the nearest, no skin untouched by tribal tattoos, and was plainly of a people most of these pretty, coddled, folk thought of as savages…as near beasts.
Cityborns, weak as a birds piss. Let them live just one season in the north and see if they keep their fine ways. The beasts survive all in the north. Orc, winter, farmer…peoples are conquered, peoples die, but the beasts remains. But they did not understand this. Did not see why the battlefather had given the beast totems to guide his people. Instead they looked down on them for following the beast and it’s ways.
Magnus snorted. Looked down on. These southerners were a small people. Why did they think themselves so high?
Only the girl next to him was staying close, but she was being paid in silver to do that. He picked her up by the ponytail from where she was lying face down and snoring in a puddle of wine on the bar. He grunted. Should have paid copper.
He’d found one coinlass that had seemed excited by him rather than scared. She was good fun, crazy but good fun. But then she tried to stick a finger up his arse. Cityborns….mad. He missed the strong, proud, women of home. He missed home. He still grieved.
But here he was. Under a roof, surrounded by high stone walls, far from the wilds, and drinking a lot to cope with that.
But things were better this day than the sunrise before. He had a hunting pack now. A priest of the weak god with a strong shield, an old sorcerer with a nasty tongue who he liked but didn’t trust…he used magic afterall, and now some bold lass with a big sword. It was a small pack, and would make the chiefs laugh for its strangeness, but they had killed a dragon.
And he was now drinking its gold.