Deadtree Swamp

[John]

John walked steadily through the swamp, ignoring the squelching mud clinging to his boots and the passive, clinking protest coming from his armor. He scowled as the stagnant, humid air filled his nostrils, reeking of death and rot. His shoulders sagged and his stride grew shorter with every step. It had been a long day's march through the forest and into the swamp, and he couldn't seriously consider resting here, what with thoughts of being swallowed up into the mud plaguing his brain. He marched along grimly, praying for some flicker of torchlight, or any sign of humanity.

[John]

John heard something. The hissing of doused torches. The clink of chains. The shifting groan of great wooden doors in motion. He pivoted to the left, the direction he guessed the noises were coming from, and hurried through the night towards the sounds of humanity. He ran through thin, scraggly growths of trees, and quite a few clouds of insects, but hey, the shortest distance between two points is a straight line, and he was in a hurry.

[John]

"Wait!" John called as he sloshed into the sight of a small, homely fort sitting peculiarly in the middle of the swamp. The closing gate slowed to a halt, chains moaning and groaning in the night. John stepped into the pale torchlight, glad to be on the more solid land the fort was built upon. "I'm a passing traveler." John shouted at the general direction of the fort "and I would be grateful for the night's stay" The gate shuddered indecisively, before opening. If it was at all possible for an inanimate object to behave begrudgingly, the gate did so. It opened slowly, and once it had stopped John still had to duck to get underneath it. The inner walls of the fort were as black as pitch, and John couldn't see a thing. One by one wall mounted torches began to flare up, and the sound of footsteps began to echo off the walls.

[John]

A man appeared at the end of a dusty stone staircase at the far corner of the fort. The man stepped forward, walking alone, despite the fact that he was obviously not the sole occupier of the fort. As the man stepped nearer John got a good look at him. He was not a tall man, not even six feet with a scraggly growth of facial hair. He was dressed in a bizarre multi-colored coat that appeared to be a patchwork of animal furs. He had a short, viciously curved blade over his shoulder that was visibly dented and worn from many battles. "My name is Byrd" he barked in a harsh, commanding voice "and this is Brinkman's Fort, the temporary home of myself and my band of mercenaries."

[John]

"Hello, Byrd" John said, as cordially as he could manage "I would be endlessly grateful if you and your band of mercenaries would let me stay the night." John stepped forward and extended a hand to Byrd, expecting a handshake. Byrd eyed John's hand, but kept his arms crossed neatly behind his back. "We'd be happy to keep you for the night" Byrd said, his face breaking into a pinched, obviously forced smile. "My men will show you to the dining hall" he added. "We'd hate to let a guest of ours go hungry."

At that a small squad of men came down the stairs, leading John through the large oaken doorway into the dining hall.

[John]

John took a seat in the sparsely furnished dining hall, and sat quietly while the men brought him food. They laid a feast before him, but he ate modestly, not wanting to seem rude. He stood from the low bench, and approached the nearest man. "If you could lead me to my quarters now, I would be most grateful" John said. The man did not speak, but nodded and walked through the oaken doors that had led them into the hall. He led him out through the open courtyard and into a small tunnel. Each wall of the tunnel was lined with small wooden doors. The man led John to one such door, and yanked it open. The door groaned in protest, hinges squeaking and squalling as it swung open. The man nodded inside, and John stepped in as the man shut the door behind him.

[Lan]

((Very good....what will happen next...hrmmm.))

[John]

Byrd sat in the dining hall swilling cheap wine. He was beginning to like this desolate old fort. At first he and his gang stopped for the shelter and rest the fort provided, but ever since wanderers had begun to come by. Wanderers with really nice things. It worked the same way every time. Let them in, give them some food, and send them off to bed. Then, while they slept full of warm meat and cheap wine one of his men would creep into their room and put them down, nice and quiet. It helped that the rooms were as dark as sin, and no lights or torches were offered. Then, once the traveler was dead, they would divide up the stuff, with Byrd getting first picks. He had gotten his jacket and sword both from previous travelers, and had his eyes on this new ones shiny armor.

[John]

John stumbled through his darkened room, looking for some sort of bed, but finding nothing. Finally he set his pack on the ground, and fumbled blindly through it until he found a traveling torch and his flint and steel. He struggled with the three items until finally he was successful, and warm torchlight flooded the room. The bed was in the northeast corner of the room, but that wasn't what John was looking at. In the corner of the room, opposite the bed lay two bodies. One was mostly skeletonized, but the other had just recently begun to rot. Both bodies were stripped bare, no clothing or anything else on them. At this point, John felt he had a pretty good idea what was going on here. He slid the torch into a wall bracket and sat down on the bed with his axe across his lap, waiting eagerly for the tables to turn.

[John]

Byrd stepped through the archway which led to John's room. He drew the curved sword from its position on his back. This was his first time killing one of the victims. The first two times he had let one of his henchman do the work, but people were starting to gripe about his getting first picks on the loot, so he figured it was time for him to show them why he was still the boss. He stopped in front of the door and prepared himself. It would be simple, he told himself. Slip in, go for the throat, slip out. He slid the door open. It moved unbelievably silently, especially considering the show it put on earlier. He stepped into the room and froze. John was still sitting on the bed, axe in hand now, grinning like he had just caught Byrd with nothing more than a surprise birthday party. Byrd's first thought was to turn and flee. Surely he could outrun John. But his legs didn't seem to like the plan. He stood rooted on the spot, waiting for something to happen. John stood up calmly, hoisting his axe over his shoulder. "Surprise" he said.

[John]

John's word snapped Byrd out of his trance instantly. He charged, waving his sword wildly through the air. He was quick, but not strong and he didn't have any idea how to use his sword. John stepped to the side and neatly hooked his foot around Byrd's ankle and pulled his leg back. Byrd fell forward, his face catching the wooden frame of the bed. When he stood up blood was pouring from his nose, soaking his beard and mustache with crimson. Byrd was indignant now. "You" He barked at John "you come into MY fort, eat MY food, turn MY plans on ME, and now you would humiliate me." John said nothing, but continued to grin at the angry little man.

[John]

Byrd was angry now. He was overly aggressive, and without any innate ability to defend himself, or any practice with the sword his every swing left him wide open. Thus, John decided that it would be a good time to go on the offensive. John took a step forward, ignoring a glancing blow to the shoulder plate of his armor. He swung his axe, but underestimated Byrd's speed. Byrd leapt out of the way, and John's axe met the stone wall, showering John with chunks of stone gravel. John tugged at his axe, but before it could be retrieved Byrd was swinging again. John leaped out of the way of one blow, abandoning his axe in the process.

[John]

Byrd was not the best fighter by any means, but he knew a good idea when he saw one. He immediately threw himself between John and his axe, swinging his blade fast and frequently to prevent John's advance. John began to work his way around, rotating around Byrd, but to no avail. Every move John made Byrd copied, staying face to face with him. John was stuck, with no better ideas, he tried to move back a bit. As John stepped backward Byrd lunged, flailing his sword arm. John tripped over himself trying to avoid the flurry of blows, and fell bodily against the door. The collision with a large, heavily armored man was more than the old door could handle. The hinges let out their last shriek of protest, and buckled. The hinges snapped, and John, and the entire door hit the ground with a thud.

[Lan]

((Post more! =D))

[John]

John scrambled to his feet and looked for Byrd. Byrd charged, growling something unintelligible at John as he leveled his sword and prepared himself to be done with John once and for all. John panicked, he looked around and found no new options. In desperation he reached down, meeting Byrd's charge with the door in hand. Byrd's sword met the door, and his charge was halted. Byrd yanked back on his sword, as he was pulling it free John took the chance to kick out, striking Byrd in the stomach with his boot. Byrd recoiled, his newly freed sword laying useless at his side. John, overcome with adrenaline charged blindly, and, with nothing else to do brought the door down onto Byrd's skull with all the force he could manage.