When touring the countryside you decide it'd be a good idea to stop at a town you encounter along the road that goesby the name of "Coltan".
However during your visit you meet a rather spooky figure and end up hearing his life story.
A story of Tragic loss and of how a brother can turn upon another in the worst of situations.
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This is the Debut Story of my OC.
This is also my first ever story and comment feedback is really appreciated thankyou.
Please enjoy. ______________________
This is also, to my knowledge, the first anything of anything to feature Gazelles in the MLP universe.
All locations events and foreign objects are accurately based off of 15th century Europe. ______________________ Special thanks to gb2matty for spell checking. Lord Korloros for Creational, dialogue, and historical referance assistance. Mobocracy_Panda for storyboard artwork
But what good is life, when everypony whom you cared for is dead?
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Coltan, such a quaint and peaceful town to visit, with it's cobblestone roads and crepid wooden architecture.
Your day of touristry has so far been comprised of sightseeing, waffle eating, and aching hooves.
However after playing "the idiotic foreigner" game for five hours you start to think that it would be good to get a taste of the local flavor, and what better way to meet local people than by visiting a local pub!
__________________________________ You stand outside of a two story building that is supported with birchwood beams and white tarp laiden over stone masonry and directly above the rather decrepid looking door is a sign that, at one point was probably very bright and cheery looking, but now seems to be flaking away and stained with years of rain and dirt. It aptly reads "The Clock and Plucker", an interesting yet suitable title for sutch an establishment.
You push the door open with a forelimb and the top hinges end up popping, both surprising you and causing you to lose your balance and fall flat on the cobbled-brick floor. As you rise from the calamity of the situation, a rather grumpy and scruffy looking white stallion in a black leather craftan behind the bar's counter shoots you an irritated look.
The interior is dimly lit with parafin lanterns on the three walls opposite the entrance. The walls are of a rugged uncovered birchwood and every few feet along said wall sits an odd painting or "ye olde tools" and furniture for decoration.
The bartender walks out from behind his station and strolls over.The glazed look he gives you as he goes to place the, now diagnolized, door and set it back to its designated position is nothing short from furious. "Oi mayt aym terribly sorry bout'dat, this bloody thing was close te'breakin anyways, go ave'a seat first rounds free!"
...
While his accent may be thicker than week old molasses, at least he's friendly!
___________________________________
After about a half an hour of "Alchaholic Ensamblery" the bartender, as he's pouring a drink for another patron, remarks about your lack of attire in comparison to the more notably clothed in the room.
You honestly hadn't noticed your own nudity considering how normal it was back in Ponyville and you retort justly.
He second-guesses that your a tourist and you confirm his suspicions.
You continue to ask him if anypony might know some interesting stories or tales during your stay at this "fine establishment".
His face suddenly drops all sensible pleasant expression it once had and he simply nods and motions towards a robed figure in the furthest corner, sitting upon his haunches in an unearthly fashion!
___________________________________
As you approach this almost "apporitional" figure you notice that jutting from the back of his hood he has, not one, but two horns! On top of that they are both facing backwards and have a noticable curve to them.
As you near the table he turns his head away with an apparent popping sound and a raspy voice from under his hood says in an indiscriminant fashion.
"Not many care to approach such a polarizing figure, wich can only mean Nevets sent you to hear of me... please, take a seat."
He extends a hoof gesturing at the empty cushion across from him. You notice the striking eggshell white coloring in his hoof and the dark green of his fur, from the exposition of the robe, resembles that of dying grass.
The robe itself is pitch black at the bottom in a flame border pattern and a dark brown further up. The dim lighting in contrast prevents you from ever hoping to see under his hood.
You sit across from him on all fours, as your kind usually does, and you are somewhat surprised by how mutch taller than you he appears considering the way he sits upon his rump.
He exorts an extremely dry cough before speaking. "So.... you have come to hear the tale of this decrepid old sack of flesh?"
You offer a compelling and somewhat chastened nod to the question and he continues.
"Very well then.... my name... it is Draknirv,..... and I hail from a respectable village of Cossack Gazelle".
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It was a very, very long time ago... my tribe was a very prosperous one. We spent most of our days tilling and harvesting flax and cabbages (our main produce). I was the son of the village elder "Pappy Meczuev" we all called him. My two brothers, Etrosk, Yealtev, and myself were, by happening chance, the most physically fit of the village and as such it was our job to both forage and defend the village should something go wrong.
For a long time it was a peaceful life... it was a simpler life... it was a better life...
Me and my kin spent most of our time running amongst the forest and returning with whatever might be useful, or tastier than cabbage. We met the occasional traveling Tatar, and few run-ins with timber wolves.
All-in-all it was everything a young Gazelle could want from life.
But one day... we recieved a very strange visitor...
He was a very large Stallion-of-a Gazelle with a deep tan fur and coated in armor of polished steel, laiden betwixt his two fairly large horns was a Dark Crest made from the feathers of a Griffon.
He had a look about him that said "Mess with me and you'll spend the rest of your' days in a dungeon!"
Him and five other, slightly less regal, Colts came to our village. Our best guess was that they were members of the Hetmanate most likely here for.
"CONSCRIPTI-AAAAN!"
Upon hearing the large lummox literally scream that word at the top of his lungs, our hearts all sank and we knew what was coming next.
He had his underlings root through our houses and bring out all the able-bodied Colts and Stallions of the village.
We were lined up to be inspected by him, Pappy Meczuev (being the village elder and deemed to old and frail to fight), was trying to tell the absolute giant of a Stallion that we were too young and have not yet seen enough of life to be conscripted.
Of course his words went in one ear and out the other as he inspected us, and of course me and my brothers being the most physically fit of the bunch were, not only the first, but the only ones to be conscripted!
We were taken out of house and home.... to fight a fools war...but we dared not resist for fear of what would happen at the hoof of our very lordship.
I can still remember the look our father had on that fateful day....tears welled in his eyes and he looked as if he were made a broken shell of a Colt right then and there.
Free to roam the land once more and free to enjoy life!
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The distinguished figure whom lie before you merely sits there gazing at his drink. You see a small droplet fall into his beverage as he emits a low sob.
...
You offer a comforting hoof but he aggresively knocks it away.
"Anyways as I was saying."
___________________________________
We were being carted off to the fortress of "Riva", a well fortified city, and the core training facilities of the Hetmanate's new recruits and conscriptions.
"Where are we going?" Asked Etrosk.
To that he simply recieved the brunt end of a spear. The way our odd captors held their weaponry was extremely strange to us, rather than using their mouths, as most of us conventionally do, they held their equipment with their hooves!
Not only did they somehow manage to grip a blade with one hoof! But they also stood upon their hind legs! ____________________________________
"Heh heh sjećam." Muttered Draknirv under his breath as he took a swig of his drink. "I remember thinking that was the oddest form of locomotion I have ever seen in my life." Your new acquaintance continues to chuckle to himself.
"Imagine how difficult it was to learn how to do that myself!"
____________________________________
We traveled along a beaten gravel path for what seemed like eons.
We were absolutely exhausted by the time we saw the Fort of Riva on the horizon.
The last I remember of that night was entering the barracks of the location, and collapsing, exhausted unto the nearest bunk.
...
I awoke to the ghastliest sight I had ever seen in my waking hours of life.
He was a Warthog, with blazening amber eyes, a shaggy light green coat, a snaggly grin not even a mother could love, and a breath so foul even a wedge of lard couldn't cure it.
"Ooooh, am I interuptin' nap time my lil'darlin? WAKE UP!" He strolled away from my bunk and yelled at the other "more awake" recruits. "Alright ye'eberloin hedgiots, listen up!"
"Raight naow I consider you all worthless piles of dog vomit!... Now that being said, it is my job to take each and every last one of you, out... into that field..." He spoke with such an inspiring rage that could only be compared to that of a Minotaur. "And I will shape you from your pathetic demeanor... and when I am finished... not only will you eat, sleep, and excrete war out your arse! But you will be able riposte and spit an assailant upon your blade while you are taking said dump!"
He was actually a fairly suitable sergeant for the job of training conscripts. If I wasn't so depressed at the time over bieng seperated from my entire tribe, I probably would've been pretty damn inspired. Infact if he wasnt so ugly he'd be the best sergeant a recruit could ask for... wait... actually he was perfect!
Our overcooked porkchop of a trainer directed us into a clearing outside the fortress' walls.
The area was nothing more than a seventy foot circle clearing, devoid of grass or vegetation due to usage over what I would guess to be quite a few years.
To the Northern-most side of the training space stood roughly twenty wooden training dummys. To the Western-most side lay the walls of the fortress "Riva" a haven for some... but only a jarring reminder of what the rest of that life consisted of for me and my brothers. To the East side lay an assortment of training armaments. And to the South was a sizeable empty field.
"All righty now my name is "Seargant of Duty Hornswurth", but you will not call me anything because you will only speak when spoken to! Now... our first day of training will consist of getting you familiar with the traditional weaponry of the Cossack Hetmanate."
He walked over to the weapon stand and pulled out a device that struck us as extremely alien in nature.
"This, is whats called a "Wheellock Carbine"... standard to all of our infantryman."
He walked up to us with this strange device in-hand and picked up Yealtev by the horn.
"You look about as lively as any of these putrid mollusks..." He then proceeded to place the carbine in Yealtev's, less than enthusiastic, hooves. "Lets see if you can shoot straight, eh?"
Yealtev was a good Colt to say the least, his fur was a laiden black like the night sky, he had a white mask pattern on his face, his eyes were of a sequent green, and his horns were... shall we say... "diminutive". Although we were the three strongest of our village, he was the lankiest of everypony whom was there.
He always had a way of getting into trouble...
His hooves made a soft pat as he was set back on the ground. He was facing a lone target dummy at a distance of what I'd estimate to be about a hundred and twenty feet.
"The operation of the firearm is simple! Simply point the thin end at the target and pull this lever here. Then a tiiiny little ball will go flying in that direction at an extremely high speed." Said Hornswurth.
Yealtev simply nodded and cradled the stock into his shoulder and pointed it at the target.
The way he struggled to keep it straight was proof enough of how clunky it was for him to hold sutch an odd device.
After a solid three minutes he finally got aim and pulled the trigger.
The pin holding the wheel slid in and the wheel spun forwards striking the powder tray, creating an odd "Click" followed shortly after with a burst of orange light from the muzzle of the carbine, accompanied by a very loud, almost funnel like, CRACK, and a cloud of grey smoke.
We couldnt really tell if the bullet struck home or if it had simply grazed the target but the suspended head of the dummy was spinning very slowly.
"Hrmph, good shot for a beginner." Said Hornswurth as he seized the firearm and started to ram another bullet into the chamber.
After he reloaded the weapon he walked over and handed it to me.
"Your turn." Was all he said.
I walked to the same spot that Yealtev was standing at a moment ago and followed by example, aiming the weapon at the target.
I had a notably easier time keeping it steady however... my guess was that our body proportion greatly effects the stability of the weapon.
I aimed and fired, recieving the same click, and the same loud CRACK, coupled with a, far more blinding, puff of smoke.
The lead ball soared and struck the target straight in, what would be, its throat.
"Excellent shot!... Alright... who's next?"
The rest of the Colts there each took a turn repeating the actions of those before him.
Only about a fourth of them manged to even hit the thing, and Etrosk missed completely and nailed a tree several hundred yards away.
By the time the last shot was fired Hornswurth was so furious at the troops terrible aim that we were all dismissed for breakfast.
...
I sat with Yealtev and Etrosk as we ate our breakfast in the barracks. I remember that meal... it signified a change in our lives forever...
I had a melon, Yealtev was eating a cabbage and Etrosk was stuck with some bread.
"I would think youd be sick of eating cabbages Yeal, considering thats all we ever eat..." I said to Yealtev.
To this he only nodded a definite "no" and continued eating.
"Well its better than this stale loaf!" Said Etrosk. "I need reaaal food!"
Me and Yealtev simply chuckled and continued eating.
________________________________
"Its true what they say..." Said Draknirv as he took another swig of his drink.
And so it was that the mighty Draknirv, lord of Riva, had risen.
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I trotted out of the barracks, happy to have eaten something other than a leafy round vegetable, and Yealtev followed close-by. Etrosk was dragging his hooves behind us and somewhere within the fort, and a crow was dining on a loaf of stale bread.
We were instructed to meet Hornswurth and the other recruits back at the training field after breakfast for something he called "Hoof to Hoof Orientation". We had no idea what that meant at the time, and the guesses we had were... less than appropriate.
"So... this is it huh?" I said to my brothers in despair. "We are to just... train for war?"
Yealtev only shrugged and kept his blank stare ahead as we continued walking. It was a stare that insinuated incredibly deep thought processing.
It was easy to tell... we were all having trouble coping with the circumstances...
"It'd be better if I had some actual food in my gullet!"
...Some more than others...
...
Etrosk was a proportionally well built Colt, lean and muscular, his coat was a light tan, his mane was of a dark silver, his eyes a dark purple, and his horns were notably thicker and had an upward curve into a circle at the end.
He was also the kind of Colt who would complain alot. Don't get me wrong he was a good guy it's just... it got on our nerves pretty often.
"Who are we even training to fight anyhow?" He said.
"I don't know," I replied. "Do you Yeal?"
He shook his head as we came up to the gate.
The gate was of a log pillar design that swung on cast iron hinges and was able to be braced with a beam of steel, however, it was currently open to allow free passage.
...
As we approached the clearing, we noticed everyone was lined in a row and Hornswurth was just standing there waiting for us.
He was in a gruff state and appeared fervently annoyed with us for being the last to arrive.
"Okey'den now that everypony is here we can get started!" Said Hornswurth as we fell into line.
He stepped over to the training weapons and proceeded to pull out several devices that comprised of wooden blades and flax harness straps.
The obvious weapon possessed a dulled wooden blade that was roughened and obviously hand made, a rough leather sheath encasement at the base of the blade, and under that was a pair of thralled flax straps.
"Ručni nož' is what these are." Said Hornswurth. "These weapons were designed and mass-produced by the Muscovites last month, with the sole purpose of providing a better leverage for hoof to hoof combat. Luckily for us they were generous enough to share."
After a suitable introduction he began to hand out one nož per trainee.
"How do we put these on?" Said one of the other trainees as he attempted to fit his muzzle into the straps, only to stretch the flax producing an irritating scraping sound.
Hornswurth simply glared at the poor Colt before taking the weapon from him.
After a few moments of continued hateful staring Hornswurth stood up. He just stood up... on his back legs... like it wasn't even a problem for him. He towered over us in an incredibly intimidating way due to his notable size by comparison, which surprised the whole lot of us, considering he was just as tall as us on all fours and nearly three times as tall on his hind legs!
He proceeded to insert his forelimb into the strapping of the nož, tightened it with his teeth, and then walked up to the very Colt he took it from. _________________________________
"His strides were so different to us, at the time." Said Draknirv as he drifts into chastened memory. "They were almost reptilian in form, a bit like those frilly lizards whom run across the water." He takes a final sip of his drink and the bartender (formally designated as "Nevets") immediately came over, almost instinctively, and poured him another drink from a notably unlabeled glass bottle. "Simplistic,... majestic,... and efficient..." Draknirv said as he continued. __________________________________
What happened next was something I'll never forget seeing!
Hornswurth was standing in-front of the poor trainee when he broke their deadlock stare by circle-peddling his left hoof over his right and then right arcing his right hoof behind his "opponent's" left ankle and pulling it back, the resulting force causing the unfortunate demonstration target to fall down upon his chest. Hornswurth then proceeded to wheel his entire body around and pin the brunt edge of the blade against the back of the Colt's neck!
We all simply stood there in awe at what had just played out before us.
"Wa.... what in the name of Bohgdan was that!?" Said Etrosk in shock.
"Weyll it sher weren't no ballrum dancin!" Retorted Hornswurth snidely.
"Dvopedalni stav'... the bipedular stance..." He added under his breath.
"Now..." he stated proudly regaining his composure "Equip your Nož and lets get started!"
...
...
...
Clunk! The two wooden blades clashed forcing both the trainee and myself to stumble backwards in recoil. The way Hornswurth had us mimic his "bipedular stance" was so clumsy at first that the simple knock of training blades was nearly enough to cause me to stumble to the ground!
I managed to right myself after the impact and thrust a jab that scored into my foe's side, however, he seemed quite unphased by the blow and swung down on my head... hard!
I was knocked flat onto my rear, the crown of my head seething in blunt pain, but I quickly arced my left leg for a sweep and soon it was he who was upon the ground.
He was quick to get back up and I was quick to deliver three consecutive blows to the side of his head. He attempted to retaliate with a swing from the right side, but I lurched back and bent my arm up to riposte the strike and followed with a quick kick to his stomach.
And with that, my foe was upon the ground clutching his gut in pain.
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"You see that one there? With the green coat?" Said Hornswurth pointing at the dark green gazelle helping his fallen sparring partner to his feet.
"The one who learned how to use his hooves before the others?"
His left eye began to glow with a green shimmer as the skulls of his former brethren began to fade unto dust.
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A lose patch of dirt billowed into very short haze of dust as Etrosk's body made impact!
Etrosk attempted to rise from the fall, but swiftly received a sharp impact to the chin, knocking him back onto the rough and unforgiving ground.
"Enough... I yield..." Was all Etrosk could mutter as he struggled to pick himself up.
A dark black hoof reached out to help him up. Yealtev only smiled as he assisted our brother.
Yealtev may have been a lot thinner than the rest of us, but he was definitely a lot quicker to the punch. He definitely gave proof of that taking down Etrosk at the time.
"These... bog forsaken blades... aren't any good... for swinging at all!" Said Etrosk coughing and sputtering as he recovered from his defeat.
"Quite yer' gripin and get up!" Said Hornswurth as he strolled over to assess the situation.
"No I mean it!" Said Etrosk as he dusted himself off. "If I were to swing this thing at somepony, I'd be beaten down in a heartbeat!"
Hornswurth stood there moling over the concept for a spare moment.
"Then what do you suggest you little plyker!?" He finally retorted as he shot Etrosk a glazed look.
"Erm... well... actually..." Said Etrosk whom was more than a little surprised at the question. "Ahem... what if there were... curved blades... attached to the sides of the holster?"
Hornswurth continued glaring at him for several seconds and then looked towards the horizon.
"That's...." He tilted his head slightly and stared at the ground. "That could potentially... triple the efficiency." Said Hornswurth in a shocked manner.
"Huh?" Many of us said in unison, having been enthralled in the discussion.
"What is going on here!"Said a bellowing voice from the gates. "Why have you stopped training!?"
We could hardly believe our eyes as the very stallion who swept us from our home, armor and all, stepped onto the training field.
"Hornswurth!" He shouted. "What is so disruptive to interrupt your training of our recruits!?"
This stallion was intimidatingly larger than Hornswurth and was clearly using that to his advantage. His coat was a light beige color, his eyes were of a dark blue, his horns were straight until the end where they curved downwards, and his general bulk was benignly impressive!
"Well?!" he continued commandingly.
"Well..." Hornswurth stuttered. "It's this trainee here, he just thought of a way to potentially triple the noz's effectiveness!"
"Oh is that so?" He replied as he approached Etrosk menacingly. "Praytell, what is this idea you have welp!?"
"Uh..." Etrosk stuttered nervously.
"Hornswurth!... What was this idiots idea?"
Hornswurth precedingly straightened his form up and announced proudly.
"To include an extra set of blades onto the sides the holster of the noz, Sir!"
"And just what prolonged effect would this have?" The Stallion said skeptically.
"It would theoretically triple the effectiveness of the noz by providing a better swinging leverage, Sir!"
"Hmmm..." The large Gazelle rubbed his chin and pondered for a moment.
He walked up to Etrosk and towered over him "Well then... I guess its your Lucky Day!"
"W-what?" Etrosk replied weakly.
"Good Colt, stand up straight and address your betters properly!" The imposing Stallion boomed. "You are within the presence of "Ataman' Aluchi Arnhoof, Lord of Riva"!"
Whilst saying this a disgruntled Arnhoof proceeded to forcibly straighten Etrosk's posture.
"Now then..." Aluchi continued. "I have a proposition for you."
"Y-you do?!" Said Etrosk in a surprised manner.
"Indeed I do!" Replied the conformed Stallion. "How would you, my new associate, misuir..."
"E-Etrosk.... sir." He replied in amazement at the situation.
"Well then "Etrosk"." Continued Aluchi. "How would you like to be taken on as a strana' under the Arnhoof house?"
"W-wait what?" Etrosk retorted alarmingly.
"You heard me, you shall be taken on as pagery within my court!" The Stallion stated in a triumphant manner. ___________________________________
"Of course, we were all shocked beyond belief at the occurrence." Said Draknirv topping off his drink. "Just imagine... First day of training... a common soldier... heck, a trainee, becoming a member of pagery."
"It's funny how life can turn out." Draknirv continued. "One minute you can be at the top of the social ladder... and the next you could be laying in a ditch with a hole carved in your stomach." ___________________________________
"Uhm... well then, what would I be doing as a "strana'", exactly?" Said Etrosk regaining some composure.
"Oh, simple tasks ranging from simply fetching a belonging to dealing with... those whom remain unruly under my watch." Stated Arnhoof in reply. "You will also be subjected to learning the arts of proper combat, as essential to all proper strana'. You'd be much better off in court than amidst the common soldiery... Wouldn't you agree?"
"I... I suppose your right..." Agreed Etrosk in a reluctant demeanor. "But, my brothers here... I can't just abandon them to live such a life." ___________________________________
"Etrosk never really had much of a moral compass..." Said Draknirv in a notably dry tone. "Back then we both thought it was a foregone emotion to him... However if I were to guess of it now I'd think he was acting in such a way to gain an immediate gentry status with Arnhoof." He spat the name in a disgusted manner, As if the very word held a foul taste in his mouth. ___________________________________
"Hrrm..." Arnhoof pondered. "Whom among these rabble are they?"
"Theee one with the dark green coat and the one standing next to him, with the mask pattern upon his face." Answered Etrosk.
"I've seen the green one fight... he would make an excellent strana'... the other one however..." Aluchi rubbed his chin before turning to Hornswurth. "Hornswurth" He boomed. "I trust solemnly in your judgement... what do you think."
"He would make a good Plastun'." Replied Hornswurth solemnly.
Aluchi stood there pondering for what felt like ages before coming to a conclusion.
"Very well." He said. "I'll take them... But... I expect a good performance from all of you."
With that me and Yealtev both stepped up to join our brother.
"So, the three of you all wish to leave the life of common soldier and become Strana?" Questioned Aluchi.
"Definitely so." Assured Etrosk.
Yealtev and I exchanged a quick glance and simply nodded.
"Very well then... the three of you, follow me to the keep." He replied.
His hooves made a sharp clop upon the tomb's stone as he left his casket.
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By the time we reached the keep's steps it was raining, strangely enough we hadn't seen a cloud in the sky all day.
"So... mister..." I started to ask.
"Lord..." Arnhoof replied in correction.
"Apologies... Lord Aluchi..." I continued. "You mentioned earlier that we would be recieving training."
"Indeed I did." He replied.
"Well..." I resumed inquisitively. "Just how long will that take?"
"Hrrm..." He pondered. His face struck a bemused expression at the question as he answered. "It all depends on your own skills... you, I'd say about a month... and a half."
"I see." I answered to ensure him I was listening.
"However... during that time you and your brothers here, shall be given many menial tasks and undertakings."
"Such as?" Asked Etrosk, noseing into the conversation.
To this Arnhoof just chuckled. "You'll see."
By the time he finished that statement we had reached the gates to the keep. The doorway was massive, roughly twice the height of a minotaur, and several times wider. The wood that the door comprised of was an unnaturally dark tone, no doubt from years of rain and use. It was also studded with an array of iron coffers.
The keep itself was comprised of limestone bricks, many of wich being grown over with tanglevines, a few windows and statuettes dotted the sides of the building.
Arnhoof pushed open the door and we were assaulted with a gust of warm air. "Welcome to your new home." He said with a snide smile.
The interior of the main room had strong Venetian overtones, the floors were of a black marble lined with copper, the walls were of the same limestone bricks as outside, only painted a dark gray, the ceiling came out as gothic arches made of linoleum. There were no lamps or artificial light of any kind, the hall was lit solely through the light of the large windows that adorned the sides of the room. A large table with a black cloth stretched along a divide in the center of the room, and upon the middle of the table was a copper statuette of Hetman "Bogdan" clashing blades with an unkown robed Zebra. At the furthermost end of the table was a large throne like chair with black cushions and copper lining.
The designs were extremely out of place within the Hetmanate realm, Arnhoof seemed to be attempting to capture something with the designs that he once knew.
"It's uhm... eloquent." Said Etrosk weakly.
"Quite..." Arnhoof replied.
We walked inside and Arnhoof walked over to a stand at the end of the hall behind, what we all assumed, was his chair, and proceeded to rack up his armor upon it.
His armor was shiny, sleek, and posessed varying gothic overtones. Elegant, well crafted, and simple.
Adjacent to the stand was a rack that posessed a hafted blade with a black and gold rimmed handle.
"Thats a nice weapon you have there." Etrosk pointed out.
"Indeed it is." Replied Arnhoof. "We got it from a raid on the chrimeans, beautiful thing, and very effective."
Aluchi stood there for a few moments admiring his... plundered respite.
"So..." He started after untransfixing from the weapon. "Why don't I show you'all around?"
"Certainly!" I replied.
"Very well then, lets be off to the armory." He assured.
...
The armory was branched off to the right of the main hall through a narrow black-bricked hallway.The door was of a darkened mahogany and had several iron bands across the top and bottom.
It swung open to reveal a twenty by twenty room made of limestone bricks, and the walls were lined with various types of armor and weaponry. Attached to the ceiling was a small, broad chandelier hung up not with chains but with iron gait to give it a rustic appearance.
"Should the keep ever fall under attack all able bodied Colts would come here." Explained Aluchi.
"I can see why." Replied Etrosk, viably noting the lines of equipment upon the walls.
"Just... how often does this keep come under attack?" I inquired.
"Not often." Aluchi said in answer. "The last time we came under attack was about seven months ago..."
"Who were the attackers?" I continued.
"The Chrimeans..." Aluchi stated. "We've been at war with them for about three years now..."
"Why don't we continue with our tour... instead of wading in the frivolities of conflictual discussion." He continued.
...
The kitchen was extraneously well put together, the cooking stations were all of a sterling silver in contrast to the darkened stone floors. There were many varying utensils such as ladels, knives, cleavers, and forks hanging from racks attached to the walls in various places. A large cobblestone oven adorned the center of the room and was filled with maple wood, currently lit, burning, and heating an unknown dish.
There were seven chefs currently at work within the kitchen, comprising of two Gazelle, three Zebras, and two Ponies. They were all adorning classical Italian chef attire, hat and all.
One of the lankier of the Ponies was carrying a large steaming pot through the kitchen.
Etrosk immediately ran up to the poor Colt and said in the most menial of ways. "What'cha got in the pot!"
Unfortunately the pony was pre-occupied with carrying the large pot and...
*~CLANG!~*
He dropped it in surprise, spilling a large amount of an unknown chowder across the floor.
Etrosk immediately jumped back in surprise at the poor Colt's folly and a few seconds after the tragic accident a rather short and timely Gazelle wearing a black lacened Sou-Chef outfit came careening out of a door on the other side of the kitchen.
"Idiota! Mundare hoc nunc vel ego personaliter vobis pependit!" Was what the miniscule Colt screamed at the poor wreck.
With that the victim of the accident immediately ran from the room, with the pint-sized havoc in hot pursuit.
"That's... one angry fellow." I stated.
"Indeed." Arnhoof replied in respite. "Let's move on shall we?"
...
We continued walking the halls and viewing varying deprimental rooms until we came upon a large door decorated with a manner of golden gothic swirls.
"This is Pelrazh' chamber..." Stated Aluchi.
"Who?" Me and Etrosk asked.
"Pelrazh..." Answered Aluchi. "He is my court's advisor and our keeps alchemist."
"Alchemy?" Etrosk asked. "Isn't that a practice of wickenry allocation?"
Aluchi chuckled bemusedly at his question. "The things you commoners come up with... no, alchemy is a very respectable act that is essential to the success of many lords and their personal guard."
"Either way Pelrazh is also my court advisor, meaning he is my personal aide of all political decisions I make, as well as the placant of my lordship should something happen...or at least he was until you came along." Aluchi smiled as he ended that sentance, something about depriving a cohort of an heirdom brought him a small joy, clearly.
"It's also his job to brief you on any and all tasks I beseach of you'all... now then... this has been a fun little tour.. but I believe it's time for you to adjorn to your bedchambers... follow me."
...
The door to the bedchamber was a light birchwood and adorning the center of it was a solemn skull, with antlers, that we assumed was of a deer.
The interior was extremely cozy, the floor was covored, for the most part, with biege wool and there were three matted beds on opposite corners of the room.
"Very homely" Stated Etrosk as he went over and immediately sat upon the nearest bed.
"Indeed..." Stated Aluchi in response. "Now, rest easy, for tomorrow you will recieve your first task."
I turned to face him and asked "what would we be doing?"
