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Tales of Airousse Moor One

Son of the Sword Master

   By Tenwaters

Sanarth Marn loved the ladies he was tall handsome and had a clever tongue.  Sanarth was not the totally self absorbed hedonist that many associate with the image of a ladies' man.  He was kind understanding had a great sense of humor.  He also was the son of a master duelist and had a sword in his hands since he was old enough to walk.  By the time he was twelve his swordsmanship was such his father had him helping with classes.  He was in fact a true prodigy of the sword able to defeat skilled students twice his age.  He was also skilled in unarmored combat.  He had one little blind spot that frustrated women and get him in trouble with men.  To say that Sanarth was a non possessive lover would be about as much an understatement as saying the Great Wall of China was a somewhat labor intensive.  Sanarth did not even understand the concept of exclusivity of sexual partners.  When a woman tried to make him jealous he simply respected her new choice.  He also tended to ignore the commitments of others.  By his seventeenth year Sanarth was undefeated in twenty duels.  He had yet to kill a man, preferring to disarm his opponents and allow them to apologize.        

He had one other damming fault when women talked to him he listened.  He listened to their feelings and fears he kept their secrets sympathized with them and listened.  He soon knew far too many secretes as women enjoyed talking to the charming young man that listened. 

Namuna was the youngest and prettiest of three beautiful sisters.  Her two older sisters were already married.  The daughter of a prosperous merchant care had been taken to see the girls were well matched.  Manurunee the eldest sister wed a promising young gold smith whose parents were well placed in the marketing of precious metals.  The middle daughter, Lamura, had married a handsome young wizard from the City of Clove.  Namuna had only seen Lamura once since she married her young wizard two years ago. 

Every three weeks the students of Marn's Academy of the Sword had an open day of testing and demonstration.  Students deemed to have made a sufficient level of progress were publicly judged by a trio of sword masters.  The students would perform a variety of feats, exercises, and blunt bladed duels proper completion was needed to progress to the next level of training.  Watching a score healthy and affluent young men, strut their stuff, was a popular diversion for many of Airousse Moor's properly chaperoned young ladies.  Sanarth was always happy to explain the goings on of the sword tests to the curious spectators.  The young ladies were also happy to tell Sanarth of the goings on in town.           

On that day Namuna had some exciting news to share her sister Lamura and her husband would be visiting later this week.  Namuna could hardly wait to see her sister again after her long sequester.  Also on that day a small group of adventures, new to the city, had heard roomers of what they mistakenly believed was a blood sport tournament.  The group of four had their pockets full from a profitable term of mercenary service as escorts to a large caravan.  They also had their stomachs full of a far better quality brew then they were accustomed.  Hoping for a day of drinking and wagering they moved into an area that bordered the upscale part of town.   The four comrades pressed on until they found what looked like a private arena decorated for some event.  What they found in the stands was far from what they expected.  Members of the gentry politely seated waiting to watch their sons test newly acquired skills was not the crowd they expected.  Inok, a hedge mage, and the most sophisticated of the group tried to get the group to withdraw.  Kevin the group's acquisition expert had determined that the quality of the wine and food that was being provided was well worth the price of admission.  Oiseau Rapide was both a swordsman and a healer being part fey he was also the eldest of the four by about thirty years.  He too found the wine of a quality he would like to become accustom to.  He found the preliminary demonstrations the young swordsmen doing, fascinating.  The first students were stabbing small coins out of the air with the point of his rapier as they were thrown at him.  The next student with a lighter thinner blade collected twenty finger rings by impaling them as they thrown at him from multiple directions.  Oiseau's fascination with the point control demonstration was interrupted, by the forth member of their party. 

Desmond Kandan Pomaliery was a warrior of the wild Giglyan Plains.  To Desmond's simple tastes more was always best and the size of the wine vessels was not to his liking.  He very much liked the sweet ice wine he was guzzling even if the cups were small.  What he was unaware of was the beverage was far stronger then what he was used to.  He was not handling it well.  During the demonstrations Desmond was constantly interrupting Oiseau's field of vision to get refills.  Finally Oiseau exchanged seats with the large wild man so that Desmond sat on the end of the isle.  By the time the preliminary matches began Desmond was quite drunk. Later Oiseau would admit giving Desmond easy access to the isle was a strategic error. 

It was not until after the second bout that Desmond's cries of ; “Where's the blood became evident.  During the first bout, he spent most of his time unsuccessfully looking for any one managing the wagering, after which he returned to his seat with growing frustration.       

Sanarth was explaining to Namuna the strengths and weakness' of the two freshman combatants that were currently on the field when a large axe welding man jumped onto the field.  “Let me show you girls how a real man fights,” said oversized maniac with a battleaxe.  Within a second Sanarth was on the field placing himself between the uncouth hulk and the two surprised freshmen. 

“This is a training ground not a blood sport,” said Sanarth.

“Training for what, fancy dancing,” challenged Desmond.

“You my friend have had a bit too much to drink, please rejoin your friends in the stands, asked Sanarth.

“I am not your friend and all I have had to drink are thimbles full of this sweet piss water,” protested Desmond.  “Who are you to call me drunk man-child,” the mad bull of a man continued.    

“Out of the corner of his eye one of the sophomores (Donald Pirayon son of the rich wine merchant who provided the wine) moved to retrieve an edged blade.  Sanarth could not allow the son of one of his father's wealthier patrons to be killed.  “You insult me. You insult my father's school. Fine, but to insult such a fine vintage cannot go unpunished, you can have your fight,” said Sanarth. 

Desmond wasted neither time nor words as he charged the young dandy. For his effort Desmond gained a nasty cut on his right hand while the dandy simply danced out of the way.  The frustrated plainsman continued to press his attack hoping to corner his slippery target. 

Sanarth sidestepped the next attack fast enough that the big drunk lost track of him for a moment.  In that moment the outlander gave Sanarth a large and irresistible target. 

As rapier bit deep into Desmond's gluteus maximus the large man quickly sobered and jumped away once again facing his opponent.  A sudden sobering thought now penetrated Desmond's rather thick skull, he was fighting a well trained quick and deadly foe.  The next assault came not from the swordsman but the crowd as their laughter assaulted him.  To a warrior of the Giglyan Plains it was an assault on his honor. 

Sanarth noticed a sudden shift in his opponent's attitude.  His movements were more controlled his attacks were more focused he was fighting smarter.  He was now facing a seasoned warrior not a drunk.  Sanarth Marn was fighting for his life.  The big man handled his battle axe with surprising skill and speed.  Sanarth had several close calls as he strove to keep the distance open to take advantage of his longer weapon. 

For Desmond it had become a battle of inches the accursed blade of his foe always in his face.  His every attempt to score a decisive blow was deflected or dodged and yet somehow the confounded swordsman managed to score another nick or cut adding further injury to insult.   When one attempt to bat the offensive overlong piece of steal out of his way resulted in a nasty cut over his far head it pushed Desmond into a desperate rage.

The crowd watched in horror as the battle on the training field progressed.  Young mister Marn tried desperately to dissuade the stranger from continuing the conflict.  The more, the man bleed, the angrier and aggressive he became.  In a short time both protagonists were covered in blood none of it Marn's. Suddenly the larger man charged Sanarth one last time impaling himself on the rapier getting in one last desperate blow.  Sanarth abandoned his hold on his weapon barely getting his head and upper body out of the way of the axe.  Still the blow managed to take a shallow gash out of his left leg as he retreated.  The axe man followed the surprised Sanarth for two more steps before dropping in his tracks. 

Neither physician's skill nor magic could save poor Desmond though both were tried. It was almost two hours later before Desmond breathed his last breath.  Sanarth was more upset by his demise then Desmond's companions.  He tried repeatedly to apologize to them and explain he had no intension of killing the man.                          

“I could tell that.  You are truly a spectacular swordsman one of the best I have seen.  You are also a young fool. Men such as Desmond Kandan Pomaliery cannot live with defeat or dishonor.  He had too much strong drink and dishonored himself.  You then defeated him.  It was only by his death or yours that he could regain his honor.  You did not kill him you gave him back his honor.  I will tell his people he died bravely, after a long struggle by the hands of a great warrior, and it will be the truth,” said Oiseau Rapide. 

Sanarth's father told his son that night; “Remember the look in that man's eye, if you see it again remember, you cannot save him, and you must strike quickly or you may not save yourself.”

 Sanarth did not sleep well that night. The night of the first day, he had killed.  Over the week Sanarth's reputation both, as a ladies man and a killer grew with each retelling of tale or roomer.

What happened four days later was totally unrelated to the events of that day.  Well unrelated in all ways except it involved Namuna, her family and a sword.  Lamura had confided to her sister that her husband was a terrible man.  Lamura's husband was insanely jealous, a wife beater, and a dabbler in the blackest of arts.  Namuna wanted to visit her poor sister one last time before Lamura and her husband left town.  Mrs. Clineden her mothers head maid was willing to chaperone but she needed an escort to take her to the side of town were the couple were lodging.  Namuna requested Sanarth to escort them, and Sanarth could not resist Namuna's smile. 

No sooner did they entered the Inn of Camels; they realized they enter a battlefield.  The main hall was clear of patrons, the Innkeeper was lying bruised and bloody on the bar.  From the upper floor they could hear the yelling of a man and the screaming of a woman.

“That's Lamura,” cried Namuna.

In seconds Sanarth flew up the stairs and burst thought the door of a guest room.  The seen in the room was one of chaos. A madman beating on a bruised and bloody woman, in a room that had been redecorated by a tornado greeted Sanarth's eye.  A moment later Namuna entered the room and called her sisters name.  Only then did the madman notice the intruders. 

“So my slut's sister and her gigolo have arrived.  I have preempted your little manage toi and I soon shall preempt you,” said the wizard from Clove.  With a wave of his hand he threw all there bodies backward and away from him like leaves caught in a powerful gust of wind. 

Namuna was thrown out the door knocking down poor Mrs. Clineden who was only now trying to enter.  Lamura was thrown across the room were she lay in a lump against an upturned settee. 

Sanarth rebounded of the wall wasting no time in drawing his weapon and closing the distance with the mad man.  Sparks flew as the rapier pierced the wizard's defenses.  With Iron will Sanarth held his weapon despite the pain and pierced the wizard's heart.  It was a fatal blow one that would put down any normal man but the wizard from Clove was not quite a normal man.  He grabbed the blade, surprised to see it planted in his chest.  He cut his hands on the weapon.  He pulled both weapon and wielder closer. The impaling blade coming farther out his back.  His hypnotic gaze held the swordsman helpless as the wizard's bloody hand grasped his Impaler's face.

In one last desperate act of hate and rage the mad wizard from clove wove his final spell; 

“Sleep well home wrecker, for in five full moons your curse begins and you will not sleep for more than half the night in any home. Each morning new enemies will be made.  For what you stole from me no matter how honest you try to be, you shall be the worst of thieves.  No home will host you twice.”  Finally his last energy spent in the curse, the mad wizard from Clove breathed his last vile breath and fell to the floor.

Slowly Sanarth recovered his wits having seen the swordsman free of any physical trauma Namuna and Mrs. Clineden saw to Lamura's injuries.  Sanarth slowly made his way to the ladies side.  His movement was slow for every joint and mussel moved brought another ache or pain.  Mrs. Clineden sent Namuna to fetch a healer.  Sanarth stood as a silent sentinel over the seen until help arrived.  He felt like he had run a hundred miles.  It was not till the healer had seen to Lamura that Sanarth allowed himself to collapse.   

Sanarth awoke to the sound of crying his head in Namuna's lap.  Seeing the beautiful maidens tear soaked eyes diverted Sanarth from fully enjoying his pleasant pillow.  Most of the pain and fatigue he felt earlier was gone.

“What is the matter my lady is your sister alright,” asked Sanarth. 

“Thanks to you she will be alright. You will always be my hero, my dear brave Sanarth,” said Namuna though her tears.

Sanarth rose to a sitting position while holding the hand of the distraught beauty. “Why are you crying my dear,” he asked.

“She is crying about you,” said Mrs. Clineden.

“It is alright I am feeling much better” said Sanarth trying to reassure the women.

“He is so brave” cried Namuna.

 It was finally the healer that gave Sanarth the news.  “I can tell you this; your body may be a little sore now but should heal completely, however I can detect the presence of some powerful dark magic used against you,” said the healer.

“I am feeling much better already, whatever this is, doesn't seem to be hurting me,” said Sanarth.

“Most of what you are feeling now are injuries sustained in the battle.  The thing that worries me is what I think is a blood curse.  I really recommend you see an expert on curses,” said the worried healer. 

Over the next few days Sanarth was examined by a large number of healers, priests, wizards, and soothsayers.  

The healers saw a dark curse that was attached to his very soul that was waiting for its time.

The priests told him there was a strange link to some sort of chaos demon involved. 

The wizards warned him that it was a spell of great power, using the power of the casters death, the worst of forbidden blood magic.  They were fascinated at its complexity.  At the traps it had against anyone trying to lift the curse and the way it hid its true function.  They were also worried about a strange factor of contagion in the spell.  They described it as a bit like lycanthropy but spread differently and with a more random timing element. 

The soothsayers saw him in strange lands running from angry mobs. 

The case was so strange that he was summoned to the Lord Mayors office.  The Lord Mayor of Airousse Moor was a medium high level wizard with a passion for politics.  He told Sanarth the curse would stay passive for at least nine weeks.  By this time two weeks had already past.  The Lord Mayors apologized then gave him an order of banishment.  Sanarth was given four weeks to settle his affairs, then he must leave town never to return again.  The Lord Mayor warned him that once the spell became active he would be too dangerous to be around.

A week after Sanarth had learned this.  Sanarth still had no clue as to the true nature of the curse.  Facing banishment and worse, and against the advice of all who knew better (Anyone that had been in town for more than half a day).  Sanarth sought the aid of Gerald a mad wizard who maintained a shop in the center town.

Note:  You are probably asking were is the TG, well this is the 2nd of seven teasers,  introducing the players of the story to come.