Aston and Manton Introduced

Two characters, Aston, a berserker with a sword of mysterious origin, and Manton, a friendly but skilled and devious thief, are introduced.

The field smelled of death, of lives cut short. Bodies lay strewn across the once beautiful valley, splashes of red marring the green landscape. Isolated fires dotted the landscape, small impact craters scattered about. War had come here, to a spot once thought to be untouchable. The valley was dead quiet now, hardly a sound disturbing the rest of the dead. In this damaged and abandoned terrain, there stood only one still among the living, a bloodied sword resting by his kneeling form. He knelt upon a small hill, bodies surrounding him on all sides. His hands, bloodied like the rest of his body, were smashed into his face. The sword glowed slightly as he writhed his face and hands in agony.

War had come, and its exemplar remained here. Suddenly, the kneeling figure ceased his twisting, and he stood up once more, picking up his not-quite-man-made sword. He had gotten lost in the violence, in the slaughter, he knew. He was just glad the bodies around him were those of the other side. He began to walk, and suddenly swooped around instinctively as he heard footsteps behind him, quickly bringing his sword to the unknown individual’s throat.

He quickly lowered his blade as he recognized the individual.

“We won, Aston. “

The figure spoke in a friendly manner, the man’s friendly nature contrasting with his dastardly appearance. He looked the part of a horse thief, or a pickpocket, and Aston knew it best to keep one hand on his valuables when speaking to him. As he looked upon his friend, Aston felt his raw emotion that was released just a while earlier be contained behind his stoic face. This was not the first time Aston had fallen to a berserker’s fury, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. He felt pangs of guilt for losing control again, but he pushed these thoughts out of his head as he went into a calm state. He began to remember everything before his rage, and he slowly regained his bearings. After turning away and putting his face into his hands, he again turned to Manton.

 

 Manton was a damned devious thief. A friendly guy and loyal companion, but a devious thief. You could trust him not to plunge a knife into your back, but not to leave your coin bag where it is. He was always sneaky and hardly ever took a brave and bold approach. Still, Manton had come here to retrieve him, which held a certain amount of bravery; the fellow warriors of the Glorious Republic knew better than to disturb the great warrior in one of his furious episodes. Aston quickly decided he wanted to know the details of the battle.

“So, we pushed the Council’s troops back? What happened?”

“The force was routed soon after you… got serious. With a berserker slaughtering men left and right on the front, they were easy pickings for the Mounted fecks. Wand-wavers did a good job too, made some big explosions, got the formations to loosen up for you. A good victory, overall.”  

Aston almost shrugged; it was expected. The Council was armed with little but arrogance and their family names; they had little chance against the drilled soldiers of the Glorious Republic. He felt the bloodlust that was gnawing at him fade, and his blade’s glow dimmed. He had his fill of violence for today, and hopefully he could contain such outbursts in the future.  He looked upon the corpses around his little hill, and saw, but already knew, that they were not yet looted. No one would dare take his kills, he thought. He reached to his bag of coins, and silently cursed himself when he realized it was gone. He turned to Manton, and cursed himself again as he appeared to vanish into thin air. He was already getting angry, but calmed himself when he heard the sound of coins dropping.

“Should really watch yourself a bit more carefully, this is the third time I’ve been able to do that.”

Flustered, Aston retrieved his small bag and spoke. He did this kind of s**t all the time, he knew, but it always surprised him none-the-less.

“Manton, you piece of s**t. Don’t do that again.”

“Right you are. Back to the city, then?”

Aston nodded. He had to clear his head after the battle, and being among the dead did not help him in that. He sheathed his sword, finally, as its glow ceased altogether. He looked upon Manton as he sheathed his sword, and his thief friend appeared as unaware as always of its glow. He felt like he was the only one who could see it, and when he got the urge to throw the damned thing away, it got pushed out of his head in a moment’s notice. Manton finally began walking, and spoke.

“You go in through the front, hero. Us underworlders have to sneak in.”

His friend quickly went off, going towards a secret entrance that Aston had no idea of; Aston, knowing it was getting late, walked towards the road. Had to get into the city before night-fall, not even he could survive what comes out at those times. The beserker jogged off, going towards the city of Tenir.