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[Entries] Crowfall WarStories

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The Surly Knight

Sir Rain was sitting at his usual table, at his usual time, in his usual mood, in the corner by the fire, in the tavern near the temple. His usual time lately was all of the time. This tavern was a fine example of the strategic importance of staging posts along the route to the warring frontier, with good stables, good supply and good ale. In truth, Master Blair, the owner of the tavern could do without the patronage of the surly Knight by his fire, but he was a veteran himself and could well afford a little charity to a fellow warrior.
"Your ale, Sirrah" said Blair and with a smile as effusive as the foam in the pewter crock he slapped it down on the rough oak table in front of Sir Rain. But his broad smile was not met in kind.
Master Blair retreated with a sad shake of his head, well knowing the states of soldiery, and the unseen, unsaid sadness of a warrior at peace. Sir Rain occasionally worried that his surly presence was not a great boon to the Inn but what he did not know was that Master Blair was more than happy to accommodate his misery in lieu of the marketing offset. In any day that the surly knight was in attendance Master Blair could be happy that his establishment had the kudos of an active, if surly, knight in attendance.
This then was the gripe for any professional soldier of these times. Fighting, risking life and limb to achieve a state of peace, but then finding peace an unwelcome friend. Sir Rain could not voice his frustration of peace to the young serving staff who saw nothing but joy in front of them. For to gainsay those whose peace he had fought for was an anathema. Yet, still, he just wanted to fight and struggled not too with the local idiots.
Sir Rain could see no release, nor wanted any, duty to honour being what it was, and honour bound, now, to peace.
Maybe there would be no other campaign for him, and Master Blair would grow tired of him and throw him out to the gutter where he would rot, having learnt no other skill than war.
Indeed, Master Blair's patience was running a little thin this autumn as Sir Rain's gruff demeanour was scaring the serving maids of his establishment, yet knowing full well if Inn's like his did not hold host to warriors, then who would ?
Sir Rain's thoughts turned darker still. Inside, he wanted to scream at the locals, scream that that they were just fools. That war was always a moment away. As much as he wanted to fight for their glory, he could neither accept their peace. Peace was not in his soul. So he drank.
Master Blair raised his eye to the open door and put one hand to the throwing knife under the bar as the phalanx of leather armoured assassins poured into the Inn, and then relaxed as he recognized the face that entered behind.
In any walk of life there are not many faces that can truly alter the plight of all that fall under their gaze, but today, this face, this person, was known for a thousand leagues, for this was Commander Dravoix.
"Enjoying your rest Sir Rain?"
"NO Sir! I am not!" Sir Rain could not help himself and had already stood bolt upright, without having to think about it.
"Good, Chaos hordes are infiltrating, we have incursions across the map and I need warriors like you to step up"
"Yes Sir! About time! I shall report to the temple for muster."
"No time for that I'm afraid, your orders are to move directly to Thracia and gather what troops you can to retake Storm Haven keep. We shall undertake a new campaign to neutralise all regions. Are we clear Sir Rain?"
"Yes Sir! The best news I have had this year. Storm Haven it is Commander".

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