Weekend Warriors Chronicles

The Weekend Warriors Chronicles - Piles of Bones - Part 3

2008-12-29T15:33:00.033-06:00

The skeletons advanced on Claymore, swords raised, teeth clacking, eyeless sockets somehow looking menacing. Claymore raised his own weapon in response, a mighty battle cry issuing forth from his powerful lungs. He brought his heavy sword through one of the skeleton's skulls, closing his eyes for a brief moment as tiny bone shards showered his face.

The skeleton fell in a heap, as Claymore twisted his body gracefully to land a powerful blow on the skeleton behind him, an instant before the creature sliced through Claymore's back. Several ribs were broken as Claymore slashed across the creature's skeletal chest in a diagonal fashion. The rib bones fell to the ground and the rest of the skeleton followed suit two seconds later.

Claymore felt a sharp rap on his right shoulder, and knew instantly that one of the skeletons had tried to unsuccessfully stab him. His attention was turned to the skeleton on his immediate right, that had made a small slice in Claymore's armor, but the cut was not deep enough to penetrate the skin. That skeleton didn't even have time to bring his blade back for another swipe before it found Claymore's sword severing its skull. The skull flew several feet, bounced multiple times as it landed, and finally rolled to a stop half way across the graveyard. The first skeleton that had been decimated was now reassembling itself. Within just a few seconds it stood whole and joined its bony companions in the fight.

Two of the remaining skeletons attacked. One of the skeletons managed to pierce Claymore's armor at his abdomen, causing the warrior to first grunt in surprise, then angrily swipe back it, severing its arm at the wrist. A second later, that skeleton was dismembered, bones flying in all directions. One of the bones hit another skeleton on the head, creating a hollow thunking sound that carried through the small yard. Another of the defeated skeletons pulled itself together and rejoined the fray.

"Cobblers?" Shyael asked.

"Yep," Astral answered.

"I really hate Cobblers," Taurnil grumbled. "No wonder the priests couldn't turn them and keep them away. They didn't properly exorcise them."

"Um, excuse me," Claymore called from across the yard as he obliterated another skeleton. "What are Cobblers?"

Aranel sneered. "Cobble. To make or put together roughly or hastily. To mend or patch coursely."

Claymore dodged just in time as one of the skeletons stabbed at his chest. Instead the blow glanced uselessly off his armor. In one powerful slice, the warrior cut it in half, severing the skeleton's backbone. Two more of the skeletons had reassembled, and Claymore was still surrounded.

"So...how do I kill them? This doesn't seem to be working."

"He's more observant than I gave him credit for," Aranel said.

"Well? A little assistance, please?" Claymore asked.

"Alright, Aranel," Astral said. "Why don't you lend our fearless warrior a hand?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

The mage chanted quietly while moving his hands in a circular fashion. The chanting gradually grew louder over the course of a few minutes, while the air in front of him began to churn and swirl. It developed an orangeish tint, and grew in size along with Aranel's voice. Soon it was very large, and as Aranel yelled the last words of his spell, he pushed his arms forward, sending his fireball into the middle of the fighting group.

The fireball exploded, setting everything in its midst on fire, including Claymore. The warrior screamed as the fire burned his skin. The skeletons crumbled into heaps of ash within seconds, and Claymore threw himself on the ground, rolling his body away from the flames.

Astral raised her eyebrows at Aranel quizzically.

The fighter extinguished himself, jumped up, and spun toward the fireball, just as it was starting to sputter. Then it was out, and all that was left were eight piles of steaming ash that used to be the skeletons.

"Well, that'll do it," Taurnil said. "I just need to go say a quick prayer over each one."

Claymore ran up to the mage, getting right in his face and snarling like a rabid animal. "I could have been killed! What were you thinking?"

"Well I was thinking that a fireball would take out all eight skeletons with one quick, easy spell. And it did."

"Did you happen to notice that I was right in the middle of them?"

"Of course."

"And you cast it, anyway?"

"Undoubtedly," Aranel sneered at the puffed up warrior. "I knew you would survive, especially being the big, tough warrior you claim to be."

"If I hadn't reacted right away, I could have been barbequed!"

"Well. It's a good thing you have such quick reflexes."

Claymore fumed at the mage, while Aranel smiled back at him.

Meanwhile, Taurnil stooped beside each pile of ash and said a small prayer. When he finished, he rejoined the group. He looked at Claymore. "Are you alright? Do you require healing?"

Claymore, still seething at the mage, gruffly replied, "I'm just fine. No damage done."

"Nice job, Aranel," Astral said to the mage. "And you didn't do too badly, Claymore, for a first job. Let's head back to Father Jon."

The group retraced their steps through the tight tunnel and up through the basement. They found Father Jon at his podium, preparing his sermon. "The skeletons have been eradicated. Your sanctuary is safe once again."

"You're...you're completely sure?"

"Positive," Aranel snorted. "Did you realize they were cobblers?"

"Cobblers...that explains why they were back the next night. In my fright I didn't even think about that. They were properly exorcised, then?"

"Yes," Taurnil answered. "You have nothing left to worry about."

"But where did they come from? How did they appear in the basement?"

"I found a secret passage behind one of the barrels," Claymore proudly exclaimed. "It led to an abandoned cemetary."

Father Jon looked thoughtful for a moment. "Abandoned cemetary? I don't recall an abandoned cemetary." He scratched his head in confusion. "Abandoned cemetary...abandoned cemetary..."

"Well, whatever the case may be, your problems are over and you can preach to Aldonnistyl's followers once again. Call us if you need anything else."

"Please take this small token of our gratitude," Father Jon handed Astral a small burlap pouch. "It's not much, but I want you to have it."

"Thank you, Father." Turning to her comrades, she said, "Alright, group, mission complete. Let's head back to The Orc's Fork for a small celebration."

The group filed out of the abbey. Claymore was practically bouncing in place while he walked. "So. What's in the pouch? Gold? Precious gems?"

"I seriously doubt it, followers of Aldonnistyl don't have much to spare," Taurnil answered.

"Open the pouch, Astral, I want to see what's inside," Claymore said excitedly.

Astral gave him a sidelong glance.

"Please?" he said.

"Alright." She stopped and dumped the contents of the pouch onto her palm. The tinkling of metal could be heard as a handful of silver coins fell out. Astral quickly counted them. "Thirty-five," she announced.

"That's it? We only get...um...a few silver pieces each?" Claymore complained.

"I guess barbarians aren't good at math," Aranel rolled his eyes. "We each get seven."

"I knew that. And I'm not a barbarian. But seven silver pieces? That's it? It seemed like that job was worth more than that."

"I already told you," Astral said as she divvied out the coinage, "some people have little or nothing to give. But that's not why we help them."

"There's not much I can do with seven silver pieces, though."

"It's enough to pay for a few tankards of ale," Taurnil said longingly.

"Actually," Astral said as she dumped fourteen silvers back in the pouch and hung it on her belt, "you're not getting any of it because you owe me for the armor. Now you only owe forty-four gold pieces and three silvers. You'll get there eventually."

Claymore looked dejected. "That stinks. But that means I'm a full member of the group. Right?"

"At least until you've paid off your debt. Then we'll make our final decision."

The group walked on silently through the rest of the day. As they did before, they camped in the woods overnight, and reached the inn by midday the following day. They sat at the same table as before, with a round of drinks before them. Taurnil drank his greedily, while the others sipped thoughtfully.

"So, what happens now?" Claymore asked.

"Well, now we all go home. If I hear any news of work, I'll contact you all and we'll set up a meeting here."

"...home?" Claymore echoed.

"You do have a residence, don't you?" Astral inquired.

"Um..."

"Don't worry," Aranel paused in his studying to say drily, "I'm sure the barmaid would be happy to put you up. Unless she's otherwise engaged."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean she may have someone else occupying her...time."

He looked at the warrior's blank face for a moment, waiting for his comment to register. When it didn't seem like it was going to, he added, "You didn't think you were the only one, did you? Brigadette gets around quite a bit."

"No. Of course I didn't think I was the only one. I mean, pfaw, I see other people, too. As soon as I meet some, that is."

"Claymore, do you have a place to stay?" Astral asked.

"Uh..."

"What did you do, breeze in out of the wilderness and come straight here instead of looking for a place to live?" Aranel asked snottily.

"Well, yeah, pretty much. I mean, there were notices posted around the countryside and I answered them. I didn't really have time to look around first."

Aranel looked back to his book, shaking his head.

Shyael watched the conversation with interest.

Taurnil downed his third mug of ale.

Astral sighed. "My friend Claudette may be able to help you."

Taurnil let out a loud laugh, hiccuped, and hailed Brigadette for a fourth mug.

Shyael snickered behind her hand.

Aranel did not look up from his book, though there was no mistaking the smile that crept across his face.

"What's so funny?" Claymore asked.

"Nothing!" the three said in unison.

Astral rose from the table and looked at her group. "Good job, group. Until next time."

Claymore followed her obediently out the door toward the town square. The sounds of the busy marketplace soon filled the air around them; vendors hawking their wares, horses neighing, children laughing and squealing to and fro.

"What, um, what were they all laughing about?" Claymore inquired.

"Who knows."

They stopped in front of a vendor selling pottery. She was a lovely maiden, with coppery waves framing her face and trailing down her back. Her smooth, pale skin was flawless, and her dark blue eyes sparkled like tiny stars.

Claymore was instantly smitten, and smiled stupidly at her.

"Hello, Astral," she said in a rich, velvet voice. "Who's your friend?" she gazed at Claymore, sending shivers up his spine. He met her gaze, stupid smile still present.

"This is Claymore. He's our new fighter...temporarily. Claymore, this is..."

"Let me guess. You're Claudette, right?" he said, lowering his voice and batting his eyes at the young girl.

She giggled.

"This is Miranda," Astral said.

"Miranda..." drool was starting to dribble down Claymore's chin.

Astral leaned in close to the fighter. "For Aldonnistyl's sake, man, wipe your face. You look like an idiot. I mean, even more than usual."

Claymore hastily wiped his face, but didn't lose the stupid smile.

Astral rolled her eyes.

"He's only with you temporarily?" Miranda asked. "That's a shame..."

"Actually, we need to speak to Claudette. Do you know where she might be?"

"I sure do. She's at home this time of day."

"I bet Claudette is your twin, isn't she?" Claymore asked dopily.

Miranda giggled at him, but didn't answer. Astral glared at him.

"What?" Claymore asked, beginning to feel self conscious. "It's a common question."

Astral shook her head and walked away. Claymore shrugged at Miranda, who waved flirtatiously back at him. He followed Astral toward a small cottage in a quiet corner of the marketplace. She knocked firmly on the door and the two waited.

A minute or so later, the door was answered by a quite scary elderly woman. Deep lines were etched in her leathery face, and she hastily wiped something from the corner of her mouth. Blue-green eyes regarded the ranger and fighter curiously. Though her visage was haggard, she seemed pleasant. "Ah, what a vision to these old eyes."

"Hi, Claudette. You daughter told us we could find you here."

"Astral! It's been ages since I've seen you. You look well." She shot Claymore an apprasing glance. "And who is this gorgeous man? Is he your new love?"

"Hardly. This is Claymore. He'll be traveling with the group for awhile."

"And where are you from, scrumptious?" She asked while smacking her lips at him.

Claymore could feel Claudette's eyes roaming all over his body approvingly. He felt like he was naked and on display. He was tempted to hide behind the ranger to escape the old woman's gaze.

"Er..."

"The strong silent type, eh? I like 'em quiet," she cackled. The shrill sound traveled up Claymore's spine and lodged itself in his head, where it seemed to magnify a thousand times. He thought his ears would burst from the hideous noise. Her horrid eyes bore into his.

"Anyway," Astral interjected. "I was wondering if you still had any houses available?"

"Hmm. I think Zachariah just took the last one."

"Claymore is looking for a place to stay. Any suggestions?"

"I'd be happy to share mine with him. It's quite large, and he would have his own room." Claudette looked at him hungrily.

Claymore gulped. "Uh, can I speak to you a moment, Astral?" He grabbed her elbow and pulled her out of earshot of the woman. "I can't stay here."

"Why not?"

"That woman is...is...she keeps looking at me like she wants me for dinner...or dessert."

"And that's a problem because...?"

"Well, she just...didn't you see the way she was looking at me? She, well, you know..."

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."

"She wants me," he said in a voice above a whisper.

"She wants you for what?"

"You know, she desires me."

"Wow. You're really full of yourself, aren't you? Or do you just assume that every female wants you?"

"Well, most of them do, but with the way she was looking at me, I can just tell. I can't stay here. It would make me uncomfortable."

Astral shrugged. "Whatever. You'll just have to go tell her you're not interested. And then you'll have to find your own place to stay."

"Why can't I just stay with you?"

"Because I don't take in strays. And you annoy me."

Claymore cast a glance back at Claudette who was waiting outside the small cottage. A chill crept over him and he shivered slightly.

"I won't be a bother, honest. I'll even sleep in the barn with the horses."

"Sorry, no deal."

Claymore sighed and headed back toward the old woman. She grinned widely at his approach.

"I'm very grateful for the offer, Claudette, but I can't stay here."

Her face fell in disappointment. "Aw, what a pity. Oh well. I guess Miranda and I will only have each other to talk to."

"Miranda?"

"Yes, you've already met her, haven't you? It's just the two of us in this cottage. It may seem small, but it can get rather lonesome. We take turns running the stall. Whichever one of us stays home gets pretty lonely, sometimes. Why, the hours just seem to stretch on and on and on..."

Claymore's eyes lit up. "Miranda lives here, too?"

Claudette looked at Claymore for a moment, then at Astral. "He's a quick one, isn't he?" she said with a wink.

"You have no idea," Astral grumbled.

"Claudette," Claymore announced in an official sounding voice. "I've decided I'd be delighted to stay with you and Miranda."

The old woman's face lit up in a grin. "Splendid. I'll go put the pot on the stove and then show you to your room. We're having goat stomach stew for dinner tonight."

"Uh...goat stomach stew?"

"You bet. With some other innards thrown in for flavor."

"I'm not really that hungry..."

"Nonsense. You'll love it."

Claymore turned toward Astral, who was smiling back at him. "I'll send word when I need you."

And with that, she turned and left him to get acquainted in his new place.

The Weekend Warriors Chronicles - Piles of Bones - Part 2

2008-10-21T19:00:00.030-05:00

It was around midday when the group broke for lunch. They sat in the cool shade and munched on the provisions they had acquired from the inn before leaving that morning.

It was a quiet day, with only the slight ocasional rustle of the trees bringing any sound to the group. It was a peaceful noise, which spoke of long quiet afternoons spent lounging in the forest, without work waiting to be done.

But, work was waiting, so upon finishing their light meal, the group reluctantly rose from their resting spots and continued forward.

It was a mere minute later when Shyael called a halt to the group. They all stopped and looked at her, while she cocked her head and listened. Then she rolled her eyes.

Then Astral heard it, too. "Alright, Talin, come on out."

Silence.

"I can hear you. Come out, or I'll send the group in to get you."

There was a pause of silence. Then several feet down the path a ragged young teen emerged, fidgeting with his fingers sheepishly.

Aranel sighed exasperatedly.

Taurnil groaned audibly.

Claymore looked confused.

Astral stood, hands on hips, tapping her foot in annoyance, scowling at the boy. He lowered his eyes while approaching her, as if afraid she would let him have it.

"Talin...where are you supposed to be right now?"

The boy fidgeted.

"Answer me."

He looked up at her with pleading eyes. "Please, Astral, just this once?"

"Answer my question, Talin."

He sighed mournfully. "With the horses."

"Right. Explain to me how you're supposed to be caring for the horses when you're hours away from home?"

"Look, I know I'm not supposed to leave the cottage, but I just know I'd make a great addition to the group. I can sneak around really well, and I'm pretty fast with a dagger."

"Talin we've been over this at least a dozen times. Your job is to...," she waited for him to answer.

"Stay with the horses," he answered as his shoulders sagged.

"Because?"

"I'm a stableboy." His eyes suddenly brightened. "But if you let me join the group I know I can be so much more."

"I don't need your help with the group, Talin. What I need is a stableboy - one who will actually stay and look after the horses instead of tagging along behind me everytime I get a job."

"Yes, Astral," he looked at his feet in shame.

"Now get on home so you can make it before dark. There are things in these woods you'd rather not see. Things that wait until after dark to come out and feast on the blood and bones of errant stableboys who follow their masters. I hear they like fresh eyeballs, but that could just be a rumor..."

Talin's eyes bulged and his mouth dropped open. In one swift movement, he turned and darted back down the path.

"He really is fast," Taurnil mumbled.

Shyael snickered to herself.

Astral motioned to the group to continue on as before, and everyone fell into their normal marching pattern.

"So, what kind of creatures are we dealing with?" Claymore asked.

"Just skeletons. Nothing serious," Shyael answered.

"No. The creatures in the woods."

"What creatures?"

"The ones Astral just mentioned. The ones that made Talin run off in a frenzied rush because they like fresh eyeballs."

Shyael snickered. "She just made that up."

"Been adventuring much, have we?" Aranel said with sneer.

"Here and there."

"You're pretty wet behind the ears, aren't you?"

"Huh?"

"I thought so."

"What? What does that mean?"

"It means like you act as if you have no experience adventuring. Are you sure this isn't your first job?"

"I assure you, I know what I'm doing."

"Hmph. We shall see."

The group marched on in silence.

As dusk fell, Astral called the group to a halt again. "Alright, let's make camp. Everyone assume your normal roles. Claymore, you're with me. I assume you know how to hunt?"

"Er..."

"How do you survive on your own if you don't hunt? What do you eat?"

"Well, I usually have my meals served by pretty barwenches," he smiled impishly.

Astral rolled her eyes at him. "Just follow along and don't get in the way. Don't make any sudden movements or noises. Can you handle that?"

"Of course," Claymore said with a proud smile.

"Alright. Follow me."

Moments later, she held up her hand for Claymore to stop. He did so, and she pointed to something sitting in the tall clumps of grass. Claymore wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"Albino tree rats? You...eat those?"

"Something wrong with that?"

"Well they're just so...gamey. And they're tails are always covered in mites."

"Roasting will take care of that. Now quiet, or you'll scare them away."

Claymore doubted that, as tree rats were too stupid to be afraid of anything.

Astral quietly knocked an arrow in her bow and shot one of them. Just a few moments after that, she shot another. The stupid creatures made no attempt to escape. Within five minutes, she had shot all four of them. She strung them together and handed them to Claymore.

"I shoot them, you clean them."

He took the bundle, looking at it with a sneer. Astral turned and headed toward camp where the others were busy building the fire, and clearing the campsite.

Claymore took the rats to a flat rock, and set about preparing them for cooking.

Two hours later, bellies full of fresh meat, the group lounged lazily around the fire. Astral got up and brushed herself off. "Time for bed, folks. We still have a couple hours' march to get to the abbey, so we all need to get some sleep. Claymore. You're on first watch."

"Watch?"

Shyael chuckled to herself. Aranel rolled his eyes.

"You sit...and watch. You make sure those eyeball eating monsters don't sneak up on us in the middle of the night. If you see or hear anything suspicious, you wake me up. I'll determine if it's something we need to deal with, and either wake the group for a fight, or tell you you're an idiot."

"...Oh. Well, how will I know if it's a suspicious noise?"

"Anything out of the ordinary forest noise would constitute as suspicious and therefore warrant further investigation."

Clayton stared blankly at her.

"Any noise that isn't normal."

"Oh. Got it."

"Your watch shift is two hours long. At the end of your shift, you wake both the cleric and mage - they watch together."

"Why is that?"

"Because they're not as physically strong as the rest of us."

"But what about Shyael? She seems kind of frail."

"I assure you, she can take care of herself. Shyael is a thief. And she's an elf."

"Okay..."

"Her hearing is very accute. And she's trained to listen."

"Oh. So..."

"Just sit, back facing the fire, look out into the woods, periodically do a perimeter check. And listen."

"What about you? You're an elf, aren't you?"

"Half. My father was an elf."

"And your mother?"

"Wasn't. Goodnight." Without further comment, she laid on the ground with the rest of the group and slept.

*****

The night passed uneventfully, and soon it was time for the group to rise and stretch, eat a light breakfast, and head out. About an hour later, they could see the abbey in the distance, and an hour after that, they were walking down the path that led to the front doors.

The doors were locked. Astral motioned to Shyael, who knelt down to peek in the keyhole. Just as she had done the day before with Claymore's door, she rummaged through her tools, selected the appropriate one, and had the door open within seconds.

It was quiet inside, not a soul to be seen. The interior was minimally lit, and seemed gloomy despite the sunlight that managed to filter in through the elegant stained glass windows. Large altars were piled high with bouquets of fresh flowers, but despite their cheerful appearance, they did little to brighten the place. It just seemed creepy. And dead.

Claymore sneezed loudly. Several times. The group stood and looked at him, waiting for him to regain his composure.

"Sorry about that. Wasn't expecting to walk into a garden. What's with all the flowers? Someone die?"

Aranel hmphed under his breath and crossed his arms. "If you're going to be traveling about pimping your services, you should at least take a few moments to study the local history. You look like less of a moron when you speak."

Claymore looked at him. "I don't usually bother. My job is to kill stuff. Not shove my nose in a book and only come up for air every two days."

"And just how much air are you getting when your face is shoved into the barmaid's bosom?"

"A lot more than you've probably ever gotten."

"Alright, guys," Astral interrupted. "Save your pissing contest for after the job. We're on the clock here. Taurnil, would you enlighten our ignorant comrade?"

"Of course. These priests worship the great goddess Aldonnistyl."

"Er, never heard of her."

Aranel sighed loudly and shook his head. Claymore scowled back at him.

"Aldonnistyl is the goddess of peace and tranquility. Priests who worship her must have a calm temperament and be quick to forgive their foes. They sacrifice fresh flowers weekly, and engage in a nightly worship ritual where they burn incense, scented oils, and rare spices. They depend heavily upon monetary donations from devout followers to keep the church running and buy the things they need. When a temple loses the favor of the goddess, large amounts of gold must be sacrificed."

"Wow. How do you know all that?"

"Beacause he knows how to read. It's something priests of all religions are expected to do. Do you know how to read, Claymore?"

He shrugged. "Don't need to. I just need to know how to use a sword. Do you know how to swing a sword, Aranel? Or are your arms too scrawny? You probably don't have the strength to even lift one. You probably don't even have enough strength in those diminuitive arms to properly squeeze a barmaid."

"Ooh. Diminuitive. That's a big word for a man of such little brain. Not only did you use it correctly in a sentence, but you pronounced it correctly, as well. I'm impressed."

Shayel snickered behind her hand.

"Maybe I'm not as stupid as you think," Claymore said in a tone beneath a growl.

"Maybe you're actually stupider than I think," Aranel snarled back at him.

"Gentlemen," Astral interrupted. "Little progress is being made. Let us go find Father Jon."

The two scowled at each other but followed their leader. Shyael and Taurnil looked at each other and shrugged, then followed behind them.

It was a small structure and it didn't take long for them to find Father Jon's office.

Astral rapped sharply on the door, and the group's ears were immediately met with a dull thud, as if a book fell to the floor. A few seconds later, they heard a small tremulous voice on the other side.

"Who...who is it?"

"It's Astral's band. I hear you have a problem with some skeletons."

It was quiet for a moment.

"He probably got wind of the stench of our new companion," Aranel muttered.

Claymore either ignored him or didn't realize the comment was intended for him.

Finally the doorknob began to slowly turn. An elderly man peeped around the door at the group. His face was worn and lined with worry. He shuffled hesitantly out of his small office.

Astral put her hands on her hips and regarded him skeptically. "What's the problem?"

"Well, it all started about a week or so ago. I was down in the basement gathering some herbs for the nightly ritual, when all of a sudden I heard a clacking sound behind me. I turned around and saw nothing but bones. A skeleton! And before I could even figure out what to do, another one seemed to appear out of nowhere! I ran as fast as I could and locked the door behind me."

"What about your nightly rituals?" Clayton asked. "How have you been performing them without your herbs?"

"We haven't been. And I'm terribly afraid the goddess will punish us. We'll have to sacrifice an entire plate of gold coins to win back her favor."

"Where are all the other priests?" Astral inquired.

"I sent them away. None of them felt safe with the skeletons in the basement. They're locked down there, but we're all afraid they'll somehow escape and kill us. We haven't allowed worshippers into the building."

"Why don't you just turn the skeletons? There are only two of them. You are priests, are you not?" Taurnil asked.

"Well, yes, of course, but the next night they came back."

"Alright, lead us to the basement then, and we'll see what we can do."

"Here. Take the key. I'll lead you to the main hallway, but you're on you're own after that."

As promised, Father Jon led them to the main hall. With a shakey finger, he pointed to the basement door, then turned and ran back to his office, slamming the door behind him. The clicking of the lock echoed throughout the hall.

Astral shrugged, placed the key in the door, and turned it. The door opened onto a narrow hallway with a set of stairs. One by one they descended, following another narrow hallway into a typical dank, dusty, and dark basement.

"Aranel, some light please?"

Aranel chanted softly under his breath. Within a few seconds, the room was filled with light. Nothing out of the ordinary was visible, just a room filled with supply barrels and bags of grain. The group walked into the room and started looking around.

Shyael busied herself studying the walls, running her hands slowly across them. Taurnil and Aranel started looking around the bags and barrels.

"Er...why is she doing that?"

"She's checking for secret doors. Why don't you help the rest of us look for anything odd."

Claymore moved one of the barrels aside. Behind it, the wall had a barely visible, slightly recessed area, about the size of his fist. He pushed on it, and instantly a section of the wall swung open, revealing a small hallway. It stretched on for several feet, then turned to the left.

"Good job, Claymore," Astral complimented.

He smiled proudly.

Aranel and Shyael rolled their eyes.

Astral held her hand up to the group, then scouted ahead. A few minutes later, she rejoined them. "The passage goes on for several feet with a few twists and turns, then leads up into an old cemetary. Let's go check it out." She headed back down the hall, and the others closely followed.

The tunnel smelled of freshly dug earth, making it seem fairly new. After following the short passage, it stopped at a dead end. There was a ladder leading up a hole.

"Skeletons need ladders?" Claymore asked.

Shayael shrugged. "Guess they're afraid they might break a bone if they fall down the hole," she joked.

Astral was the first up the hole, followed by Claymore, Taurnil, Shayel, and lastly, Aranel.

The graveyard looked ancient but ordinary; a smattering of old faded tombstones were scattered here and there. A wrought iron gate surrounded the yard. Two twisted naked trees stood on either side of the small enclosure, which added to the ambience. Silvergray clouds creeped slowly across a slate gray sky.

"It's suddenly gray and creepy," Claymore said to no one in particular.

"Well, aren't all cemetaries gray and creepy? That's what makes them so fun!" Shayel announced.

"So where are these skeletons we're supposed to be fighting?" Claymore asked eagerly.

"Can't wait to prove ourselves, can we," Aranel sneered.

"That's right," Claymore said, turning to face the snooty mage. "I just can't wait to sink my sword into something."

"Is that a threat, you ill-bred cretin?"

"Oh no - that's not a threat. You'll know when I'm threatening you."

"Uh, guys, I hate to interrupt your friendly conversation, but look." Shyael pointed across the small graveyard, where two skeletons stood, armed with swords.

"I'll take care of this! The rest of you just stand and watch," Claymore announced proudly as he trotted across the cemetary.

"Stupid peacock," Aranel muttered.

"What's he doing?" Shyael asked loudly.

"Openly displaying his wit and battle prowess," Taurnil replied.

Astral stood and watched, arms crossed, silent.

The clattering sound of breaking bones filled the air. Claymore effortlessly cleaved through one of the skeletons, then turned and did the same with the other. It was all over in a matter of seconds, and there stood the warrior, proud smile on his face, chest puffed up, hands on his hips. It looked as if he were just waiting for praise.

The group stood and just looked at him silently.

Claymore deflated. "Well, aren't you going to say anything?"

"Like you're a moron?" Aranel remarked.

"What do you mean? I single handedly took out these two skeletons. I completed the quest!"

"Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't realize you had saved us all. Hail to the mighty warrior. He has saved us all! We are forever in his debt."

Shyael snickered behind her hand.

Taurnil scowled.

Astral stood with hands on hips.

"You're mocking me, aren't you?"

Aranel didn't answer.

"What did I do wrong?" he looked to Astral for an answer.

She looked at him a long moment before answering. "A good warrior appraises the situation before rushing into battle. Don't be so eager to prove yourself that you put yourself, and your group, into danger."

Claymore hung his head.

"What's that sound?" Shyael suddenly asked.

The rest of the group listened, then heard it as well. It was a minute scraping sound, coming from the ground near Claymore's feet. The scraping grew louder, and to the group's annoyance, the skeleton was pulling itself back together, the bones reassembling the creature it had been. The second pile of bones did the same, and soon both skeletons were whole, and leering at the fighter.

"Um...never seen that before," Claymore grumbled.

But before any of them bothered to act, two more skeletons clawed their way out of the dirt to stand beside their comrades. Then four more. Claymore was effectively surrounded.

"This is why you shouln't rush into battle," Aranel scolded, shaking his head in disgust.

Piles of Bones - Part 1

2008-10-01T09:35:00.001-05:00

"So, what do we know about this guy?" Taurnil drained the last of his ale, then peered into the empty mug, making sure the strong liquid was all gone.

Shyael shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know, I got the same message the rest of you got - to meet here at the pub. What about you, Aranel? Do you know anything about the new guy?"

Aranel shook his head stoically, not bothered enough to look up from his spellbook.

"Would you tell us if you did?" Taurnil asked. Aranel ignored him.

"Yeah, didn't think so," Taurnil mumbled under his breath.

"She's here," Shyael pointed toward the tavern door.

Astral stood just inside, hands on hips, surveying the interior of the pub. All of the patrons stopped talking and looked at her, her strong presence reaching even the farthest corners of the croweded room. Spotting her group, she headed toward them.

"She never fails to make an entrance, does she?" Taurnil asked no one in particular.

She joined her comrades with a rush of air, rich with the scent of sandalwood and pine. She frowned. "He's late."

Brigadette the barmaid appeared at the table. "What'll I get ya?"

"I'll take another ale," Taurnil said without hesitation.

"I'll just have some water," Shyael said.

"If ya want water you'll have to go out back and pump it yourself. We only serve ale, mead, and whatever slop the cook decides is the meal of the day."

"I don't want anything, then."

Brigadette shrugged and looked at Aranel. "Booksniffer! Ya want something?"

Aranel looked up, annoyed. "Some peace and quiet so I can study, if that's not too much to ask."

"Honey, you don't get peace and quiet at the The Orc's Fork. Ya get drinks! If you want to study you should've stayed home. Do ya want somethin' or not?"

Aranel glared at her before returning his attention to his book.

Brigadette sighed, and looked at Astral. "Do ya always have to drag your ass along when you come here?"

Astral shrugged in response. "He's part of the group, so unfortunately, yes. But don't worry about it, Brig, we all drink enough to make up for him. I'll take an ale, please. What's the slop of the day?"

"Roast pig and potatoes."

"How burnt is it?"

The barwench shifted on her feet. "Not too bad I 'spose. A little charred on the edges, almost too raw on the inside. Potatoes are good, though. Cooked all the way through."

"Alright, I'll take a plate. Do the rest of you want a plate?"

"I'll pass," Taurnil and Shyael said in unison. Aranel ignored the question.

"Coming right up," Brig said before sashaying away to the kitchen.

"So, we were talking about the new guy," Taurnil said. "Do you know anything about him? Where he comes from?"

"Not much. He has a pretty good reputation for his sword arm. He's done some odd jobs - escorting mercenaries and such."

"What's his name?" Shyael asked.

"His name is..."

"Claymore Stormblade," a man suddenly announced proudly with hands on hips and head held high.

He was fresh faced and young, with a just slightly mussed mop of red hair falling over his face. His dark blue eyes, with just a hint of green, held a playful innocence that looked like he was ready to conquer the world. He wore little, as if his aim was to impress those around him with his perfectly tanned muscular physique. He was quite the vision; very handsome.

The group looked up at him blankly. Even Aranel gave the newcomer a cursory glance before looking back to his book.

"Well," the man continued. "You have heard of me, haven't you? Hero for hire? Rescuer of fair maidens? Destroyer of...of...bad stuff?" he sagged in defeat when the group said nothing.

"Why don't you sit down, hero, so we can discuss your job prospects," Astral said with a sarcastic edge to her voice.

Claymore sat down guardedly and glanced around at the group. "I guess none of you has heard about my adventures on the coast?"

" 'Fraid not," Taurnil hiccuped.

"So," Claymore said haughtily. "What will you have me do?" He grinned at Astral, quite obviously hoping his charm would win him some favor. It didn't.

Brigadette then appeared with the ales and a plate of food. She plopped the plate down in front of Astral and passed out the mugs. A piece of the baked potato bounced off the plate and Astral popped it into her mouth.

"Can I get ya anything else? Like a quickie in the supply room?" she winked at Claymore.

He grinned at her stupidly. "I'd love a plate of...whatever that is."

"Roast pig," she said, staring pointedly at him.

"I'd love some roast pig. Did you make it yourself?"

"I don't get paid for cooking, sweetheart, I get paid for shaking my ass."

"What about the quickie?"

"I don't get paid for that either - that's just for fun. I'll be back with your pig."

"Wow. She's really...something, isn't she?"

Astral rolled her eyes and cleared her throat loudly. Claymore's attention snapped back to her.

"Oh yeah, the new job. Well, I'm pretty good with a sword, I don't mind saying. I spent the last several years escorting mercenaries from one place to another."

"So what brings you here?" Shyael asked curiously.

"I was getting bored. Not much excitement driving carts. Nothing to kill."

"Is that the only reason why you're applying for this job - to kill things?"

"Pfaw! Of course not. I always thought there was something bigger than that. That I was meant for more. You know? To be the strong arm of a group. To lead my fellow men to victory...glory...fame!"

The rest of the group looked at him curiously. Astral's jaw worked while she chewed the tough meat. She scrutinized him, sized him up, but said nothing.

"Well...isn't that what adventuring is all about? Making a name for yourelf? Why do the rest of you go on these adventures?"

"For fun," Shyael answered. "But not for fame."

"Some of us need the money," Astral answered.

Aranel ignored them.

"What about you?" he asked the Taurnil.

"For...(hic!) the church of course. He took a long gulp of the ale, than centered his watery eyes on Claymore.

"Hey, buddy. Don't you think you ought to slow down a bit? I mean you're a man of the cloth. You should be setting an example of purity, right?"

"What? Don't tell me you never touch the stuff."

"I do. I drink sometimes, but...I don't drink so much that I'm a blabbering idiot."

"Blabbering! I'll have you know (hic!) that I don't blabber. And there's nothing in my religion that says I can't enjoy a little evening imbibing."

"But it's just barely afternoon."

"Right. It's an hour past noon. Therefore it's evening."

"Um...,"

"Don't worry about him," Astral said. "He can handle it. You talk big about yourself. How do I know you are as good as you say?"

Claymore shot her a disarming grin. "My fair maiden. I am good. Probably the best you've ever seen."

"I seriously doubt that. But we shall see how good your sword arm is in due time."

"Does that mean I have a job?"

"Trial period. We'll see how well you can handle yourself on our next job and make our decision afterward."

"I'm bettin' he can handle himself quite well," Brigadette said, gently placing Claymore's plate before him. She gave him a lingering stare, which he returned, before heading away from the table, hips swinging hypnotically.

"So, what happened your last fighter? The one I'm replacing?" Claymore shoved a large bit of the pig into his mouth.

"He got eaten by a dragon," Astral answered with no emotion in her voice.

Taurnil giggled to himself while he swayed in his seat, tipping the last drops of ale into his mouth.

Shyael's ears twitched and she smiled, resting her chin in her hand.

Aranel ignored them all.

Claymore looked from one face to another, stopping in mid-chew. He blanched. "Ser...seriously?" he said around a mouthful of food.

Astral went on, ignoring his question. "Let me tell you something, Claymore. I'm the leader of this group. This isn't a glory mission. We don't do this so we're noticed. We do it because people ask. Some people have nothing to give, but we help them anyway, because they need it. What we need from you is a dependable blade. Can you give us that?"

Claymore winked at her. "I can give you a lot more than that."

"And another thing," Astral continued. "You might consider wearing...clothes while adventuring. We're not running a nudist colony."

Claymore looked hurt. "Is there something wrong with the way I dress?"

"No, not if you enjoy running around half naked all the time!" Shyael said too loudly, blinking at him with large innocent eyes.

Taurnil snickered and swayed in his chair.

Aranel ignored them.

"I'm assuming you have armor?"

"Uh..."

Astral sighed. "We'll head over to the armorer and see if he has anything in stock that will fit you. Otherwise, you'll just have to go as is."

"Have you decided what job we're going to do, Astral?"

"Well, we could help Sebastius with his rat problem. He's been asking for awhile."

"Norats! Rember what happened las' time wif rats, dontcha?" Taurnil hiccuped.

"Oh yeah," said Shyael. "I remember. It took me forever to get that smell out of my hair."

"What smell?" Claymore asked.

"I'm not in the mood for rats, either. We could check into Father Jon's skeleton problem."

"Skeleton problem?"

"Father Jon of the Last Hope Abbey has skeletons in his basement, and he needs someone to get rid of them for him."

"We haven't done skeletons in awhile," Shyael said excitedly.

"Skeltons...hic!"

"Alright, it's settled. We'll head out first thing tomorrow morning. Make sure you get lots of rest - the abbey is over a day's travel away. You," she said, looking at Claymore. "Come with me. We'll go check out the armorer's shop."

Astral and Claymore rose from the table and headed toward the door. Shyael got up and headed to the tavern stairs, toward the rooms for rent. Taurnil swayed in his chair. Aranel ignored them all.

The brightness of the afternoon was nearly blinding after sitting in the dark tavern for so long, and the two blinked their eyes to adjust.

"So," Claymore asked, "what's with the mage?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he seems rather...preoccupied. And he didn't even look at that gorgeous barmaid once. He's not...I mean, he doesn't prefer the company of men, does he?"

Astral stopped and faced him, hands on hips. "Why? Do you feel threatened? Afraid he might make a pass at you or something?"

"No...I mean, I guess it's possible, I mean...he...won't, will he?"

Astral studied him a moment. "I suppose anything is possible. But I don't think you need to worry your pretty self - the only thing Aranel is more than likely to make a pass at is his spellbook. He's practically married to the thing."

"What about the cute little elf girl? Shyael?"

"What about her?"

"What's her job? What does she do?"

"Shyael is my thief. She's an expert at stealth, spotting traps, and lockpicking."

They walked in silence for awhile. Shortly thereafter, they arrived at the armorer's shop.

"Well if it isn't my favorite ranger!"

"Hi, Sal. This is Claymore - our new fighter."

"Well, now, he's a strapping fellow."

Claymore puffed out his chest proudly.

"You'll have to be beating the ladies off with a stick," Sal mused while measuring Claymore's large chest.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Astral grumbled. "A bunch of groupies."

"Well you're in luck, youngster. I have just the thing for you. Here you are, try this on."

Claymore took the leather armor into the fitting tent.

Sal leaned in close to Astral. "I hope he fares better than that last guy you had traveling with you. So tragic..."

Claymore emerged from the tent, clothed in the leather armor, looking pale. "You're talking about the dragon, aren't you?"

"Eh? What dragon? I was talking about the last fighter that traveled with this group. It was such a shame what happened to him..."

"She said he was eaten by a dragon," Claymore said nervously, casting a quick glance at Astral.

"Dragon...no, no my boy. It was much worse than a dragon. Why it was a...a..."

"How much do we owe you, Sal?" Astral interrupted.

"Oh, 45 gold pieces. Quite a bargain."

"Well, what was it?" Claymore asked.

"Hmm? What was what?"

"What happened to the last fighter? What's worse than a dragon?"

"Oh, there ain't much worse than a dragon, son. They're fierce creatures."

"What happened to the last fighter?"

"What last fighter?"

"The one that traveled with this group!"

"How should I know? I'm just an armorer. You'll have to ask Astral that question."

Astral stood, hands on hips, staring at Claymore. "Go on and pay the man so we can leave."

"Uh..."

"You don't have the money, do you? Of course not. There wasn't anywhere to put it in your tight pants." She shook her head while she rummaged through her beltpouch. "You'll pay me back out of your first wages for the armor. Come on, let's head back to the pub."

"So, you're a ranger?"

"Yep. Something wrong with that?"

"Do all rangers dress the way you do?"

"What, in clothes? Usually."

"What...," Claymore cleared his throat uneasily. "What really happened to your last fighter?"

"I already told you."

"But, Sal said..."

"I assume you have enough to pay for your room?"

"Um, I think so."

Astral pushed open the pub door. "I suggest you get a good night's sleep, we'll leave an hour after dawn. Be ready. Oh - and could you carry Taurnil up to his room? He's in room 3."

*******

Shyael, bright eyed and eager to hit the trail, sat down with her group. "Where's Claymore?"

"He's not here yet," a completely sober Taurnil answered.

Aranel ignored them.

"He's late again," Astral answered, irritated. She rose from her seat and headed up the stairs to Claymore's room. Shyael followed closely behind.

She knocked loudly on the door. She could hear a woman giggling on the other side. She turned the door handle, only to find it locked. She motioned to Shyael, who then knelt in front of the door. The thief peered into the keyhole, then pulled a small pouch out of her tunic. Inside were several small lockpicks, a tiny saw, and a couple of skeleton keys. She pulled out one of the picks and pushed it through the keyhole. Two seconds later an audible click was heard. Shyael put the pick back in its proper place, and stood aside for Astral.

Astral turned the door handle and quickly pushed the door open. There, in the middle of the darkened room, half dressed, was Claymore and Brigadette.

Astral cleared her throat loudly at the two, who stopped and looked at her. "I said an hour after dawn. You're late. Again."

"Oh. Sorry," Claymore released the barmaid and hurriedly grasped his clothes off the floor.

Brigadette sighed loudly and sauntered across the room to retrieve an article of clothing, then to the back of the room to retrieve another article of clothing. She reached up to the tapestry on the wall and retrieved yet another article.

"Do you...mind?" Claymore asked, embarrassed.

"Not really," Astral said, standing with hands still on hips expectantly.

"I mean, I need to get dressed."

"Go ahead."

Claymore sighed and dressed while Astral stood in the doorway and Shyael peered in curiously from behind her.

Brigadette took her time slipping into her dress. Claymore was just adjusting the last of his buckles when she glided up to him. "To be continued," she whispered huskily.

A stupid grin started to spread across Claymore's face, but disappeared when he caught Astral's scowl. He adjusted his tunic.

"Ready," he said with a proud smile.

"You might need that," Astral pointed to his sword, still resting against the wall.

"Oh, right. How could I forget my sword?"

"I suggest you conduct yourself in a more professional manner if you want to keep this job."

"Right. Sorry."

Astral turned and walked away without further comment, leaving Claymore to collect his weapon and scurry after her.