[Bucnakhan]

I dont know if there is anything like the old Story Teller's Hall from the pre-launch TDI forum but I wanted to post this old story. I hope a few of you enjoy it. If you have a comment or even a story to share. Please feel free.

I wrote this pre-launch. Ar'Khan was going to be the name of my main but FC wont allow it for some reason.


Hands of Time: A Soldier's story

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OOC: The point of this story is to introduce and flesh out my AoC main Ar'Khan. I envision this being an interactive thread so if you are reading this and have something constructive to add to the story please do. If not then from time to time I will continue the thread on my own. The basic premiss is that of an old soldier (but not TOO old), about to retire. What does he do, bodyguard, become a merc, weapons trainer..etc. You get the idea.

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Hands of Time: A Soldier's story
Chapter 1

The day had been long and hard. The summer sun beat down on the training field outside Tarantis, bakeing the men inside their armor. For the light foot with their leathers it had been bad enough, but for the Gunderman Pike in their heavy plate it had been hellish hot. Sweat stung their eyes and dust from the field choked their throats as they made their way back towards the barracks near the westen gates.

The mighty western gates of Tarantis towered over the men as they marched thru, guards called out in greeting , and jests were traded among the troopers. Some were too tired to join in, and one was lost in thought.

Today is the day, Ar'Khan thought. This is the last time I march thru these gates as a soldier.

The Hands of Time stand still for no man, and the time of Ar'Khans service to Aquilonia were over.

For twenty years he had worn the heavy grey plate of the Gunderland Pike, and had served in posts all over the Kingdom. Most often in the west guarding against raids by the Picts. Life had been hard in the Western Marches and only a hard man could long survive. Memories of battles long fought and friends long lost filled Ar'Khans thoughts on this final march.

As the men neared the barracks the iron gates swung open and yomen ran out to offer the men a drink of watered wine to help clear their throats. Removing his visored helm Ar'khan ran a hand thru his greying hair and accepted a cup from a young man. The boy stood nearly as tall as he and looked him in the eye, unlike some of the others.

"Name boy", Ar'khan commanded.

"Lagoran" the boy replied.

"Well lad, ye be what, 15 summers" Ar'Khan asked.

"Sixteen next moon Sir".

"Almost sixteen, So next year its the grey for you is it lad, no more serving cups to old men" Ar'khan laughed.

"Aye Sir" Lagoran replied. "Tis the Grey and the Pike for me m'lord."

Ar'Khan chuckled at the boy as he handed back the cup. The Hands of Time never stopped.

Once inside Ar"Khan headed for his rooms. As a Fileleader he didnt sleep in the common room with the men, but shared 3 small rooms with another Fileleader. Each had his own bed chamber with a common area in between. As he entered Ar'Khan nodded to his room mate Groler and went into his chamber.

Stripping to his tunic he carefully hung his kit on a stand in the corner. Tonight a groomsman would come clean and burnish it. An advantage of being stationed in Tarantis..in the Marches he would have done it himself. A bowl of warm water sat on his table and next to it a soaped sponge. Ar'Khan dropped his tunic and used these to wash away the sweat of the day.

Once he had washed and donned a fresh tunic Ar'khan entered the common area to speak to Groler but the common room was empty. Knocking on Groler's door there was no answer, he must have stepped out. As he left his rooms to check on the men Ar'khan noticed a strange quiet in the barracks. No one running an errand, no banter by the men, nothing. The barracks were empty. They must be outside for some reason, he thought.

Stepping outside the glare from the setting sun flashed in his eyes making it hard to see. Sheilding them with his hand Ar'Khan stepped into the yard.....and stopped.

Standing at attention was the entire Company, all 200 men and officers. He caught sight of his friend Groler, his face split with a grin. Even their commander Alteran Hawtor stood ram rod straight. Seeing his commander Ar'Khan came to attention himself and brought fist to heart in salute.

Hawtor drew his sword and approached Ar'Khan, stopping an arms reach in front of him. Tapping him twice on each shoulder Hawtor said..

"By the blade you were bound to Aquilonia, and by the blade you are released. Long and faithfully have you served. Honor to you Ar'Khan, for you have honered us all."

Hawtor then turned the blade in his hand and presented it to Ar'Khan. No show sword, this was a working blade, master crafted with a keen edge.

Ar'Khan bowed to his Commander, gave one final salute and turned towards the men who erupted into cheer.
Claps on the back and well wishes flowed. As did wine brought by servers. Jokes and songs followed, as did tales of Ar'Khans past...which grew taller and taller as the night wore on and the men got drunker. At some point a group of Corinthian dancers, shapely and thinly vieled arrived to entertain the troop. On and on it went, one by one the men fell in their cups, staggered to their rooms, or the lucky ones snuck off into the night with a dancer on his hip.

Ar'Khan watched it all, taking it all in. He was light in his cups for he wanted to remember this night, his last as a soldier of Aquilonia. Several young girls had approached him, but he had quietly refused. For him, this was a night to reflect.

Dawn was fast approaching, and with it the coming of a new life. What would it hold, what adventures awaited him. Only the Hands of Time had the answers. Gathering his belongings, packed by the men during the night, Ar'Khan left the barracks for the last time. At the gate Hawtor and Groler stood, each looking a little worse for wear. Groler Clapped him on the shoulder, then turned to stumble to his bed. Hawtor reached under his robes and pulled forth a heavy bag that jingled with coin.

"Your retirement" Hawtor said, "Not enough to live on, but more than enough to see you to a new life, be well old friend."

Then he too turned towards the barracks and bed.

Ar'Khan stood alone to face the new day, just he, and The Hands of Time.

[Bucnakhan]

Chapter Two: Hands of Time

The main room of the Flaming Eagle was filling up, the talk was loud with men calling out greeting, placing orders and unwinding at the end of the day. Most of the patrons were off duty soldiers and guardsmen of Tarantis. Like soldiers everywhere they had coin in their purses and spent freely. The serving girls were young and pretty, the food was good and with all the trained soldiers about it was a safe place to relax. Long military style benches lined the two outer walls, smaller tables towards the middle of the room. A large fireplace burned brightly on the far side of the room, throwing off a warm smokey light and a long bar crowded with drinkers lined the other.

Ar'Khan sat at a small corner table near the fire, enjoying the warmth. The Eagle had become his home since retireing from the army. He felt at ease here, surrounded by the familiar faces, but at times he felt something was missing, that he wasnt quite on of them any longer. Tonight was one of those times.

The door opened wide, allowing a blast of cold winter air to enter the common room. Men yelled at the new comer to step inside or get the hell out, just close the damn door!! Ar'khan glanced at the man in the door, "No soldier this one", he thought. The man stood in the doorway a moment longer, to the increasing jeers of the crowd, then nervously stepped inside closing the door behind him.

The newcomers eyes darted around the room as tho looking for something, or someone. His eyes swept past Ar"khan once, then back. Ar"khan caught the mans' gaze and looked him in the eye. The stranger broke eye contact, quickly glanceing down at the floor as he carefully began making his way towards Ar'Khans table.

As the stranger got closer Ar'Khan noticed something on the man's cloak. The clasp was in the shape of rams head surrounded by stars, the symbol of House Der Sul. As the man got closer Ar'Khan quietly made sure his dagger was loose in its scabbard and shifted his stool slightly so he could rise quickly if needed. What could House Der Sul want with me he thought.

Reaching the table the man sat down quickly, eyes darting to and fro. In a quiet whisper the man stammered, "Are..are you Ar'Khan, Ar'Khan Conart of the Gunderland Pike?"

"Aye, tho of the Pike no more." he growled.

"I am Tillas, word has reached my Master, Lyseris of the Der Sul, that you are a man of honor, one who can be trusted"

"I have no interest in House games boy", said Ar'Khan as he took a pull from his drink.

"Tis no game sir, but a matter of grave important. The Masters son, Draconis, is missing."

Draconis of the Del Sur, Ar'Khan had heard of him. Young, brash, but a boy with promise. "And what of him", Ar'Khan asked. "Last I heard he was bound for Kush, to open a trade mission."

"Yes that is correct", Tillas replied, "But there has been no word of him, or any in his party for several months, my master would have you travel to Kush and see to Draconis's safety, or avenge his fate. You will be well paid."

Kush, thought Ar'Khan. a dark, wild land. A young lordling could easily run afoul, and at lest I would escape an Aquilonian winter. Tho to have the Del Sur in his debt, now that was a prize worth more than gold.

After a bit of thought and a few long pulls on his wine Ar'Khan finally answered.

"Tell your master I accept. Have him arrange my passage on a Del Sur ship, I will be ready to travel on the morrow. Be here at day break with my passage, and my coin."

Tillas stood, bowed slightly then made his way to the door. Turning back to Ar'Khan as he left, he gave another small nod, then disappeared into the chill of the night.

Ar'Khan also stood and made his way to his room upstairs. Kush, he thought again, tis a long journey. He had much to do, and dawn would come soon enough. For the Hands of Time stood still for no man.