The Black Company Guild - A Star Citizen MMO Gaming Organization
The Bastion - Public Forums => Glen Cook's The Black Company series => "In those days..." (FAN FICTION) => Topic started by: Algheri on Dec22-2014, 05:47:37
It was raining heavily this night and thunder crashed with all the fury that nature could muster. The noise of the pouring rain and roar of thunder paled in comparison to the roars of laughter and cheering coming from a two story Townhouse in White Arden.
Inside, the dim glow from the fireplace and various candles placed throughout the tavern ominously illuminated a picture on the wall, which was already ominous enough. The dark red, ruby eyes mixed with the wreath of flame surrounding a silver skull was known to cause one of two emotions from those who have seen it; fear or salvation. The infamous Death’s Head, or Soulcatcher’s Badge, was starting to become well known on the continent of Nuia and people were starting to take note of those who wear said Death’s Head.
The cajoling of the men and women inside this make-shift tavern was akin to what you would imagine pirates would do after a successful coastal raid. Replace the pirates with members of The Black Company and the raid with a successful contract, and you’d be spot on. Packed inside, from wall to wall, were men and women clad in plate, cloth and leather armors, each carrying their weapon of choice and each wearing the Death’s Head upon their cloaks. A mug was raised and an indecipherable toast was made, thus causing more of a ruckus of cheers, hoots, hollars and cries of “YAR!”
Suddenly, the festivities were interrupted by a deep woosh and a faint green glow began to appear near the fireplace. The Brothers backed up, knowing that a portal was about to open, and gave way to the coming guests. A large cracking of what sounded like thunder and small sparks filled the room and dissipated instantly as a green, circular portal opened.
One woman hopped from the other side of the portal into the tavern, weapon drawn and covered in blood. On her cloak was the Death’s Head belonging to The Black Company First Sergeant; First Sergeant Bastet. Two more bodies came diving through the portal which, in comparison, was less graceful than Bastet’s entrance. One of the men who had fallen through the portal stood up, slung his bow and dusted off his cloak by violently flinging it behind him. This man’s cloak bore the symbol of The Standard-Bearer, but what’s more is this man also was carrying the Company Standard. First Sergeant Bastet turned towards the rabble of Brothers in the Tavern and called them to attention as Standard-Bearer Laotzu helped the other man stand up.
Any person worth their salt could see that the other man had taken quite a beating. His plate armor was dented, cut, scraped and burnt. Smoke rose off of him in wisps as he went from one knee to standing up, his back to the others. He was breathing heavy, nodded to the Standard-Bearer as a thank you and turned around. On his cloak was the Death’s Head belonging to The Captain.
The Captain shuffled over to the nearest chair, sat in it and propped his feet up on the table. Someone handed him a mug of ale and he downed it in one gulp. He then reached into his belt pouch, pulled out a small package, retrieved a small cylindrical object and lit it with a match. He threw the pack on the table and one could clearly tell that it was from another plane. It was of strange design for these lands and bore the name ‘Quafe’ above the word ‘cigarettes.’ He took a drag from his cigarette and told the men to relax. As is to be expected, no one relaxed.
“Boys,” The Captain began “I am pleased to announced that our contract was a success.”
Bastet threw a large pouch of gold onto the table near The Captain’s feet, and everyone inside let loose a loud roar.
The Captain continued, “Don’t mind what you saw on our way in through the portal. It concerns only those of us who were there. Go back to your drinks and your gambling, ya’ greasy shites.”
He then stood up, retrieved the bag of gold from the table, motioned for First Sergeant and the Standard-Bearer to follow him and began to walk to the stairs leading to the second floor of the compound. The other Company members did indeed go back to their debauchery.
Upstairs, the noise from below permeated the wooden floorboards and one could hear all manner of curses from the game of Tonk being played. The Captain took a seat behind his large oak desk, Laotzu hung the Standard on the wall and then stood next to Bastet in front of The Captain.
“Well, that could have gone better.” Bastet said, unstrapping her weapons belt.
Laotzu chimed in, “Yeah, well, at least we got out alive, eh?”
“Yes, we did.” The Captain sighed with relief, “speaking of which, thank you Lao. You saved my ass back there. I thought that was it when the bone prison sprang up from the ground. It was a welcome sight seeing you jump inside with me to help take down the two assailants.”
Bastet moved to the large shutters on the wall behind her and opened them, letting the cool wind from the storm blow in. She leaned on the sill, in thought. “An ambush, though. It seems they knew what they were doing and who we were. We’re not very popular in Sanddeep, that’s for sure.”
The Captain laughed. “Oh, we’re popular. That’s a fact. We’re just popular with the wrong people. I doubt it’s the last time we’ll see Legion within our borders. The Black Tides can’t hold them off everywhere.”
Laotzu nodded in agreement and leaned with his back on the wall next to him. An air of silence gripped the three as each of them dissected the ambush. What could have gone wrong, right and everything in between. After several minutes, Laotzu broke the silence.
“Well, I’m going to head downstairs, grab a drink and maybe play a hand of Tonk. Lieutenant Paxton owes me some money.” Laotzu said before taking his leave. Bastet went to follow him, but turned to The Captain.
“You’re doing a damn fine job, Cap’. I’m looking forward to our Contract tomorrow. I’ll have the Company mustered on the Crescent Port’s dock tomorrow evening.” And with that, Bastet went downstairs to join in on the celebrations.
The Captain let out another sigh and sat in his chair in silence. Bastet was once The Captain of The Black Company, back when they were deployed to New Eden. A compliment from her on the Captaincy was a very welcome one. After several minutes went by, he reached into his desk drawer and pulled out an archaic looking leather bound book. He fondled the cover nostalgically and marveled at the words inscribed: ‘The Book of Patches.’ He then set the book off to the side, reached into the drawer and pulled out another leather bound book. He turned to the first, blank page and wrote: ‘The Book of Algheri, Captain of The Black Company’
The time has come for me to continue adding to the Annals of The Company. Finally, The Captain thought. His night was then enveloped in trying to recount the events leading up to the very moment he started the new entry to the Annals.