Small feet left deep prints in the muddy road that meandered through the village, the first rays of the rising sun racing the children to the opposite end of the square as Harrowbrook slowly, lazily began to wake to a new day.
The village, situated at the western edge of the Mourning Plateau and within sight of the border of the Black Forest, was one of the largest settlements of the Fringe Folk, those people stubborn enough to refuse to retreat into the relative safety of the six city-states. Life in such places consists of hard labor and fear, both of which folk accept as a small price to pay for their freedom and the retainment of their ancestral homes.
The sound of hooves trudging through the muddy slop turned heads in the square, and the fletcher that was setting up his stall next to his workshop nearly fell over onto his backside when he saw the mounted visitors. Visored helmets sat atop broad shoulders that were wreathed in capes adorned by fur and clasps of ornamented gold, which in turn fastened said capes onto pauldrons and breastplates of the same silvery metal of the helmets.
Anyone could have told you that the arriving men and women were Seekers, warriors trained by the church of Resounding Truth to safeguard Nascindor from the evil of the Black Forest. Judging by the beige livery that adorned their armor, these particular Seekers hailed from the fellowship known as Pilgrim's Watch.
Among their number rode Graham Hardcliffe, a level-headed man who had been a member of Pilgrim's Watch for almost three decades. On his left side, on the back of her own horse, was the leader of their squad, Anne Morningale. She was a veteran of two separate Host incursions, a dour woman for whom the life of a Seeker was not only duty but a calling, the very purpose she claims to have been born for.
Following behind the two was Josiah Bowstone and his squire Léon Guimont, mentor and protégé riding side by side. Josiah frowned at the boy, who rode with his head held high, clearly showboating for the crowd of onlookers.
Their horses neighed as they came to a stop outside of what passed for an inn in the little hamlet and the knights dismounted, hitching their steeds to the posts lining the front of the establishment. Anne took off her helmet, allowing her amber hair to fall down upon her shoulders.
"Alright men, take an hour or two. Freshen up and fill your bellies. We wait for the patrol we are to relieve to arrive and brief us before we head into the forest. Dismissed."
She barked the orders to her squad, who acknowledged them with a salute before the group entered the inn, followed by children enamored by the knightly visitors.
Graham was the first to step through the doors of the dinky tavern and he met the gaze of the barmaid who was scrubbing a table with a wet cloth. Noticing that he was intimidating to the poor girl, he raised his hands in a comforting gesture.
"No need to fear, lass. Treat my companions and I as you would any other guest to your fine establishment. We are hungry and tired, and we have coin to pay for your troubles."
Seemingly soothed by Graham's words, the barmaid curtsied and ran off towards the kitchen, to fetch food and drinks for the weary Seekers. The group seated themselves around a table in a corner booth, setting their helmets and capes aside. Graham dismissed the ogling children with a stern look before he turned to his comrades. He cast a glance towards Anne, who seated herself at the bar.
"I see Sergeant Morningale isn't joining us this time, either. Does that woman ever ease up?" Léon thought out loud. "For someone who is supposed to be our leader, she spends very little time actually fraternizing with us."
The barmaid returned from the kitchen, carrying with her a tray full of tankards and a jug, which she set down on the table before curtsying again and vanishing back from where she came. Graham took the jug and filled his tankard with the spiced ale contained within. He took a sip and relished in the warmth that spread to his core as the alcohol settled in his belly.
"Morningale has seen and done things that would make you soil your undergarments, boy." Said Josiah. "As far as I am concerned, she has earned the right to be as reclusive as she damn well pleases. Our place is not to question her."
Léon clearly did not expect to be chided in this manner and sunk into his seat before sheepishly filling his tankard. The men nursed their drinks in silence for a while, until they were served a hearty breakfast in the form of bread, baked beans and poached eggs. As they dug in, Graham spoke up, weighing in on the subject at hand.
"For what it's worth, I think Anne has done right by us. Sure, she doesn't smile a whole lot nor is she particularly pleasant to be around, but when it comes time to draw blades and fell Hatelings, there's no one else I would rather have my command."
Josiah nodded in silent agreement, as did most of the group. Their breakfast continued in silence, each of the men simply content enjoying a moment of restful silence from their day to day. This was a rare treat in the life of a seeker, whose lives so often consist of moving from hardship to hardship.
Graham broke the silence first.
"Does anyone else find it odd that the patrol we're supposed to be relieving isn't here yet? Usually they arrive before we do, don't they?"
Josiah impaled a piece of egg on his fork and examined it, turning it around in idle thought.
"Beats me. Maybe they've been held up by something?"
Léon took a sip of his ale and chuckled.
"If my shift was about to end and I'd be getting out of the forest and back to Sanctum, I wouldn't stop for anything. I can't imagine any reason as to why anyone would." He mused.
Josiah looked at the boy, a smirk on his face and grabbed him by the shoulder in a brotherly manner.
"It's not like you'll get to rest there, either. I'll be making sure of that." He said and laughed boisterously.
Léon found Josiah's remark far less humorous.
"Yeah... you're a real slavedriver, you know that? Would it be too much to ask for a single day off? I'm sure you would also appreciate a day without having to tend to me, no?" The squire asked, a hopeful look on his face.
"And what would you do with a day off, I wonder? Laze about, no doubt. Just like the hymn must sound eternal, so must be our vigil. The fact that you have not already internalized this lesson means that I have been too soft on you!" Josiah said and continued laughing, though Léon was sure he was only half joking.
Graham took great joy in moments such as these. They reminded him of his childhood home of Rivercairn, where almost every day the small logging village gathered to spend time together. He could feel himself sink into the padding of the seating, getting increasingly comfortable.
However, this bliss was suddenly interrupted when they heard screaming coming from outside. The doors to the tavern flew open and in stumbled a man with a wild look in his eyes, panic written on his weathered face.
"H-Hatelings! In the village! They've come from t-"
The sound of shattering glass interrupted the man as a shape came crashing through one of the windows. It tumbled across the tavern floor, a tangle of limbs and sinew, before coming to a stop in front of the bar. The barmaid shrieked as the creature began to straighten its crooked limbs with a revolting symphony of cracks, shakily getting back up. The thing looked vaguely like a man, though it rested on all four of its mangled limbs which looked to bend the wrong way, like that of a digitigrade animal. It took a few shaky steps, crabwalking to and fro a couple of times.
Its head was also anything but human, consisting almost entirely of grotesquely distended jaws lined with freakishly large molars. As it clamped these jaws together with loud clacks, it began to scurry towards the barmaid, who backed up towards the kitchen.
Anne was the first to act, being at the bar. She drew her sword and approached the creature with long, determined strides.
"Seekers! To me!" She proclaimed as she raised her sword overhead, preparing to impale the monster. Graham and the rest of the squad jumped up from their seats, unsheathing their own weapons and rushing to the aid of their commanding officer.
"Josiah! Take Léon with you and secure the entrances. I doubt this thing is the only hateling in the village." Graham instructed Josiah, who took his protégé with him out the front doors.
Meanwhile, Anne brought down her sword, stabbing it cleanly through the torso of the abominable creature. Black blood sprayed onto her and it writhed in pain, those humongous jaws gnashing and snapping furiously. But far from being slain, this injury only seemed to drive the creature into a frenzy. Like a dog it shook its frame, tossing Anne to the side, leaving her sword still stuck to its flesh.
During this altercation, the barmaid had retrieved a cast iron pan from the kitchen and brandished it in a desperate attempt to keep the hateling at bay.
"Help! Keep it a-away from me!" She cried, terrified out of her mind. Graham jumped over a table to place himself in the doorway to the kitchen, between the barmaid and the creature. He kicked a nearby chair towards it in hopes of knocking it off balance. However, the beast simply chomped at the wooden chair, turning it into splinters in one bite of its terrible jaws.
"Gather the staff in the pantry and lock yourselves inside. Do not come out until we sound the all clear. Got it?" He addressed the girl, who nodded and began to usher the kitchen staff and the proprietors into the small room at the back of the kitchen.
Josiah appeared at the front doors once more, his hair disheveled and a large gash running across the surface of his breastplate. Graham was relieved that he didn't seem to be bleeding, which would imply that only the armor had been damaged.
"There are two more hatelings at the square! We've prioritized getting the villagers to safety and will proceed to purge the hatelings once they are out of the way." He wheezed, clearly having exerted himself greatly.
"Go with the Progenitor, Josiah. Suffer no evil!" Graham exclaimed, even as he prepared to fend off the beast.
"Suffer no evil!" Josiah echoed the sentiment and vanished back outside. Anne had gotten back to her feet and pulled a dagger from its scabbard strapped to her thigh.
Graham swung his mace in wide arcs, intent on keeping the creature at arm's length, as he knew that should he allow it to close the distance, those jaws would easily crush his armor. As it lunged at him, he stepped to the side and brought his weapon down on its head. With a satisfying crunch, the heavy head of his mace shattered several of the creature's large teeth and dislocated its lower jaw.
This was a short-lived victory, however, as the hateling loosed a gurgling croak and from within the toothy countenance burst forth a bulbous mass which quickly grew into another head, this one sporting a large milky orb of an eye above a circular mouth that oozed a black secretion. From this disgusting orifice, a spined tentacle protruded that lashed wildly, leaving deep gashes in the wooden floor and walls.
"Keep it busy, Hardcliffe. I'll end it!" Morningale exclaimed as she lunged at the beast. Landing on its back, Anne plunged her dagger into the original head, hoping that whatever vital organs this thing had were still located in there. Her gambit seemed to pay off, as the creature stumbled a few steps side to side before collapsing onto the floor, the second head along with its tentacle falling limp.
Graham stomped on the creature's heads for good measure, crushing their crania with a disqusting squelch. Wasting no time, the Seekers rushed outside to aid Josiah. Upon exiting the inn, they were met with a sorry sight.
Littered about the square were the bodies of several people, the mud beneath them having been colored crimson. A few of the unfortunates had been disemboweled, their innards spilt onto the ground like flesh-colored coils of rope. The body of a man, which Graham recognized as the fletcher he had seen when they arrived, sat against the well, his severed head half-buried in the mud a few feet from him.
Josiah was still fighting one of the creatures, a revolting mass of shuddering feelers and scythe-like claws that reminded Graham of the limbs of the crabs he had collected in his youth due to the way they undulated and lashed out.
"The battle is joined, Seeker Bowstone!" Morningale shouted as she and the others arrived to Josiah's aid. The hateling seemed to notice their arrival as it spun around and hissed, spitting a sizzling, caustic fluid in a far-reaching arc towards the approaching men. The liquid only barely missed Graham, hitting the wall of the inn instead, instantly turning the wood black and eating through it. Josiah took advantage of the brief distraction the arrival of his comrades had provided and sunk his blade into the side of the creature, burying it inside its body up to the hilt.
With a roar of effort, he ripped the sword through its body, cleanly cutting the abominable creature in half, painting the ground in its dark, viscous blood as its halves stumbled and fell. Josiah sheathed his sword and rushed towards the well, the others behind him.
Behind the well, laying on the ground, Léon clutched at his neck in a fruitless attempt to staunch a profusely bleeding wound. Josiah knelt beside the boy, alongside Graham.
"Heavens... Maybe I can still save him..." Josiah said as he reached for a vial on his belt. But Graham grabbed him by the wrist.
"Look at his eyes, Josiah. It's too late." He said, sounding genuinely apologetic. When Josiah peered into Léon's eyes, he saw that they were bloodshot and small black tendrils made their way towards his irises. In the heat of the battle, he had been compromised, the same black ichor that ran in the veins of the hatelings now running in his.
"All we can do for him now is to end his suffering." Graham sighed. Josiah looked at the boy, whose breathing had turned into a gurgling, the blood getting into his lungs. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, he drew the dagger from his belt.
"I'm so sorry, lad. May you find peace from all the evil of this world as you leave it behind." With those words, Josiah sunk the dagger into the chest of the young man he had trained for the better part of a decade, stilling his heart. As stoic as he was, Josiah was not spared the grip of grief taking a hold of his heart and he had to fight back tears.
"Mourning shall have to wait, Bowstone." Anne said. "You said there were two hatelings here, yet we only slew the one you were engaged with."
Just then, a shrill shriek of a woman carried through the air, accompanied by the panicked crying of a child. From a path between two houses, a large hateling with absurdly long legs and a worm-like upper body emerged. In its coils, it had a small girl who was crying for her mother.
The creature lowered itself into a squatting position and before the seekers could react, leapt incredibly far, landing far outside the village. It took another leap and landed into the treeline of the Black Forest in the distance. The distraught mother of the girl arrived to the square, clinging onto Josiah.
"My baby! That thing took my girl! It took my daughter! You have to get her back!" She wailed through tears that streaked down her cheeks. Anne tore her off of Josiah and pushed her back.
"Keep your hands off of my men, woman. While we share in your sorrow, your daughter is dead. Hysterics will not change that." She snapped at the woman. This did not sit well with Graham, who had to say his piece.
"With all due respect, Sergeant Morningale, you can't know that. Shouldn't we at least try to look for the girl?"
Anne glared at Graham, visibly angered.
"She is in the Black Forest now, and already in the clutches of a hateling. Even a seeker would have a hard time surviving such an ordeal, so what do you think the odds of an unarmed, small child are? The girl is dead, Seeker Hardcliffe, and unless you want to endanger the rest of these people by neglecting our patrol schedule, I suggest you fall in line."
Graham mulled over Anne's words, lost to his thoughts for a moment. Then, he had an idea.
"Sergeant Morningale, I request for the permission to scout ahead."
Anne's eyes narrowed for a moment, before she sighed.
"You really want to do this? You'll find nothing but shreds, if that." She questioned Graham.
"It doesn't feel right to me not to try." He answered. "If there is even the slightest chance that the girl lives, is it not our duty as seekers to see to it that she is safe?"
There was a long stretch of silence, punctuated only by the sobbing of the girl's mother, as Morningale thought it through. Then, finally, she spoke.
"Very well. Permission granted, Seeker Hardcliffe. You may scout ahead, on the condition that I accompany you. Is this understood?" Anne stated, a hint of resignation in her voice.
"Understood, Sergeant. May we go in glory." Graham replied.
"Verily, Hardcliffe." Anne sighed.
If this is a rough draft, it is an excellent one for sure! The battle scenes were good and very exciting. It seems you have a nice cast to work with, and some well established leads as well! However, the main critique that I have would be to introduce everyone a bit more thoroughly, or at least all the important people for this chapter. The squire, Josiah, Graham, and Anne, and then whoever else is in the squad. You could easily add this to where you first mention the two leads. It would just clarify things a bit, because I did get confused about the number of seekers. And while the men are drinking/sitting around. The narrator could probably flesh out some of these characters just a little bit. Maybe what they look like, their relationship to Graham something like that. Especially with the squire. I don't know how important his death his to the overall story, but any character death is important. A character death has impact, so I would like to know how this squire's death might impact Graham. And in order to figure that out, you need to tell me and expound upon their relationship. (Granted you might do this in future chapter, but these are just my observations/musings.) Other than that, I enjoyed everything else. Rattlejaw is quite a...person. For sure. And a lot of fun stuff in here! And, of course, a very well done rough draft!
Thanks for the constructive criticism! I actually had a feeling that I was omitting information or brushing past some of the characters, which I think might have to do with the fact that I didn't actually plan them out, but rather came up with them on the spot. I'll definitely look into expounding upon the introductory scene and fleshing out the squad a bit more, though the rest of them (meaning the members beyond Graham and Anne) will probably not play a big part in the story until much, much later, if at all. The squire's death was supposed to be a tone setting moment, but I can see how it also comes out of nowhere and lacks punch due to there being practically no emotional attachment to the character. Overall, now that I look at it, the scene is very rushed and I'll probably need to establish some kind of relationship between Josiah and the squire beforehand. Cheers for the insights!
Anytime, my friend!