A Knock at the Door

The horses halted on the soft mossy ground, hot breath surging from their nostrils as their riders paused in the chill starless night. Seven men there were armored in fine mail, and a Priest in tabards the color of the morning sun, brave in their numbers stepped slowly up towards the hut in the distance. The dark of the place was palpable, and clung to them like a fine mist for even the moon was frightened to shine her gaze in this place. Swords drawn the men slowly made their way forward, dismounting one by one...the lead a broad shouldered beast of a man whose striking red hair framed a steely face set to his grim task. Signalling to his men he whispered in a deep baritone voice "surround the shack...we enter on my command", to which his men nodded in silent response, all save the pale skinned Priest who knelt behind the red haired man. Clearing his throat in an attempt to deepen the resolve in his otherwise weak voice he cautioned the leader "Sir...we do not need to do this, he has done nothing" to which the red haired man immediately snapped back in an irritated tone "Some bastion of the light you are..he is in our lands, that is cause enough for death".


Cowed and embarrassed the Priest fell silent leaning back against the tree, his hand gripped about his holy symbol tightly mumbling a soft prayer, that perhaps they may make it out of this in one piece. Drawing closer the party could hear the soft crackle of a fire outside the small hut, hanging on metal spikes a cauldron boiled and hissed and a steady stream of grayish green smoke rose into the night air. Peering over the top of the cauldron the red haired man reached for the ladle, turning the contents, his nostrils assaulted by the foul smell only moments before the ladle revealed a grinning skull at the bottom. Letting the ladle fall from his hands with a disgusted grunt, he wheeled on the small door to the hut and barked out "By the light you shall die fiend!" and slammed his foot into the door splintering wood and wrenching the door from it's hinges in a single blow. Surging inside he was knocked back by a powerful force crushing his shoulder and sending him careening back into the cauldron where both slid down the small rise of hill and settled near a tree. Numb and fighting off the blurry darkness that sought to overtake him, he could hear the steady thump of his own heart beating in his ears, he squinted to focus and watched his men rush into the small hut, but just as quickly as vision returned it failed him sending back into darkness.


Tightening his mailed fist about his sword hilt he used it's strength to focus him, rising from the mossy earth his eyes opened to see the lifeless stare of one of his men laying next to him, blueish burn marks marring his flesh where it was exposed to the chill night air. A terrified cry pierced the night as he slowly worked himself to his feet, everywhere he tread he found his men laying dead, cold in the night like sticks casually cast about. Flashes of light behind the hut drew his attention and he slowly stumbled forward cursing his failing legs, trudging over the uneven ground as fast as he could. Rounding the corner of the hut he saw a dark presence floating above the Priest, eyes wide with terror the priest reached for his belt drawing his own blade. Hefting his sword the red haired man watched as the dark presence drew it's hand across a small stuffed doll and shouted in horror as he watched the priest mimic the movement drawing his own dagger across his throat slitting it wide open. As the priest gurgled out his last breath and his hot blood poured down his chest steaming in the cold night air, the red haired man drove his sword into the back of the dark presence. With a loud hiss and cry of pain the presence fell to the ground, huddled near the dead priest trying to get at the blade lodged between it's shoulders. Moving in close the red haired man growled and tugged his blade free flipping the dark presence over to reveal a wizened old Troll, his white painted face stained with it's own blood. Raising the sword the man glared down at the Troll "By the light creature i'll send you to hell" only to pause in his words at the rattling hollow laugh of the Troll beneath him. The Troll lifted his head and rasped back in surprisingly clear common "You don't know the meaning of hell human...but you will" coughing up more of his crimson blood which stained his lips his eyes closed a moment. The red haired man shoved a mailed boot down on the creatures chest pinning him to the ground as his voice cracked with emotion "These were my men, it's a pity you have but one life for me to take in trade" and raised his blade again. The troll lay unmoving save for his hand which dipped in his own blood and held it aloft, watching the drops fall to the cold ground below. Staring up at the human the Troll's voice hung in the air like a thousand whispers assaulting his senses "Ahh but I have many lives human..but you only have this one" pausing a moment the Troll's eyes followed the drops of blood "For each drop of my blood spilled...I will claim from your lineage their first child til your debt be paid". Snarling the human roared at the dying Troll "Like hell you will!" and swung his blade in an precise arc, sending the head of the Troll rolling into the campfire. An otherworldly laugh of amusement was heard echoing through the woods about the red haired man which slowly drew away further into the darkness of night. Before silence returned to the dark section of wood the red haired man clearly heard the Trolls words one last time in his mind "Till your Debt be Paid".


"Mother stop that, you're frightening her!" the young man called from his position before the fireplace. Across the room a withered old woman, sat on a comfortable chair knitting, her eyes narrowed with focus as she glared back at her son, her story interupted. Sitting next to the old woman was a radiant young woman, her cheeks flush with the glowing pink tones of a new mother, in her slender arms rested an infant, bright blue eyes and shock of curly red hair having slipped out from the blanket that en-wrapped the tiny form. Shaking his head the young man set his glass on the mantelpiece, the movement knocking something from between two books onto the floor at his feet. Crouching down he tilted his head as the glowing firelight revealed a small crudely made doll laying face up, on it's face were eyes made from two crosses sewn into the fabric. Picking the doll up he examined it a moment before his thoughts were interrupted by a loud steady knock at the front door of the home. Looking towards the sound he rolled the doll over in his hand and started towards the door, opening it he stared out onto his empty porch. The evening was a dark one and light drizzle had begun, his eyes quickly scanned his surroundings as a cool wind rustled his hair. Seeing nothing he stepped further out onto the stones of the street peering up and down the empty lane, for long moments he looked down at the doll again before he turned to look back inside his door. Stepping towards his home the night was split by a piercing shriek from within, his wife's horrified cries drifted out towards him and he turned and charged inside. In his haste the young man's hand opened gently, and the small crudely made doll slipped from his fingers to slowly drift to the ground, to rest on the cool stone of the porch...face down.