The Tale of Iron Will Izman, Part 1

Deep within the heart of San d’Oria a small war council has convened in order to discuss a recent occurrence that could rock the very foundation of the mighty Kingdom. Amongst them are not figures of public power in San d’Oria, but rather hidden faces that control incidents and matters unseen to even the most authoritative individuals. The room is dark, masked entirely with shadows so that no one persons face can be seen. Seven men are gathered around a large table and the only object that can be seen is a single candle in the center glowing with a very weak flame at the end of the wick. Among this group of seven, very few speak and those that do speak do so very specifically.

The first man, “This country may be dictated by a crown, but it’s supported by the market. This situation needs to be of our utmost concern.”

The second man responds, “And so we are unanimous in that view. The problem is not with how we’d like to deal with the situation, but rather in what way it shall be dealt with.”

The third man chimes in, “We have always been careful and precise in our actions. To stay small and undetected in everything we do was, is the only way to continue our agenda.”

The first man talks again, “I understand. Our problem then lies in the fact that the size of the force we need to fix this fault is too large. It would draw unnecessary attention to our cause. However, it’s not something we can ignore. A decision, a plan must be made now and it must be put into action immediately.”

A fourth figure speaks, this time a woman, “Perhaps, my peers, our course lies not with simply rendering this fault right, but engineering it to work towards our goals. A force of many would, indeed, accomplish what we need – even if we could take it unnoticed – however, smaller numbers could deliver the same results the only difference being results with diminished returns.”

The second man speaks, “Making a martyr for our cause.”

The first man responds, “I believe we’re all on the same page.”

“No, no, no…I’m sorry, could you repeat yourself? You want me to do what?!” the blonde Hume Paladin stared up at his superior in disbelief.

The commanding officer rolled his eyed and crossed his arms, “…a caravan was attacked by an Orcish host on the outskirts of Ronfaure. Amongst the ruins of the carts several bodies were missing. We believe the Orcs of Ghelsba took them prisoner.”

“Oh, no, yea. I get all that. It’s what Orcs do. Attack caravans, take stuff, eat furry woodland creatures. Yea, I got it. It was the second part I don’t think I heard right. The ‘Izman we want you to go and rescue’ part.”

“We need you to go and rescue them.” The commanding officer said, sounding very fed up.

“Oh, now it’s ‘need’. First it’s ‘want’, now you ‘need’ me to do it. Well, here, let me tell you something. A little Orcish 101, if you will, along with attacking caravans, taking prisoners and the devouring of woodland creatures? Orcs are also into things like torture, and making dental instruments out bones – preferably human bones.” Izman explained, layered with at least several dozen forms of sarcasm.

“Ah! It seems you know your enemy better then we thought. You’ve now freed me of any doubt I had that you should be sent on this mission alone.” His commanding officer patted him on the shoulder and turned to walk away.

“Ahh! Gah!” Izman pointed after him trying to form some type of retort, but hit tongue failed him as he was left alone in his quarters, “Ahh! I…hate you!” he slammed his fist down on the table as then scooped up the report that was left with him.

He skimmed over the details, recognizing a lot of the names as very wealthy, very powerful contributors to the economy and continental power of San d’Oria. Nearly all of which were marked with a red ‘deceased’ next to their name. His heart began to sink as he finished reading over those believed to be captured, several of which were all heirs to the legacies of trade who were killed in the attack and all of which…

“…they’re all kids.” He whispered aloud to himself as he dropped the papers to the table.

The doors to the superior officers quarters in the Chateau d’Orguille burst open and crashed against the walls as Izman emerged from them. All attention was drawn immediately to him.

“Izman! What the in Altana’s name is the matter with you?” the commanding officer from before stood up as Izman came within arms reach.

“Sit down.” Izman put one palm on the man’s chest and shoved him back down on his chair and then slapped the sheaf of papers down onto his lap. “You want to explain this a little more in-depth to me?”

“There’s nothing to explain. You have your orders. Follow them.”

“Oh? Oh! Follow them!” Izman cracked a smile, “Just march on up there into Ghelsba. Ask the nice, friendly, blood thirsty Orcs to ‘kindly hand over the prisoners’ and walk on out?”

His commanding officer was not moved by the Paladin’s sarcasm, “I would think you would be able to exercise a bit of caution and stealth tactics.”

“Well, I guess that would be the problem with you then, wouldn’t it? Thinking when you’re paid to solider.”

“Excuse me?”

Izman repeated his words back in a mocking tone, “Excuse me?!” Izman turned and walked back toward the door his armor and weapons making heavy sounds of metal on metal, or metal on the stone floor. He stopped at the door and walked back. “Did that sound even the least bit stealthy to you? And no!” Izman put his hand up to stop the man from talking, “Lets just say! For the sake of argument, alright? Let’s just give you the benefit of the doubt! And I rescue those children…you except frightened children who are scared out of their goddamn wits to ‘sneak stealthily’ back here without raising some alarm among the Orcish host and getting every last one of us slaughtered in the process?”

The entire room had gone deathly silent. Up until this point, the handful of other men in the room were unaware of the exact contents of the file. All they could assume was that Izman had been given a mission he wasn’t particularly fond of.

The Paladin broke the silence. “Oh. No one else knew about this one, huh? Yea. The one about Orcs kidnapping a bunch of little kids? No. Well, ain’t that a kick in the head.”

It was silent for a few more seconds and a few of the officers in the room left, a hint if urgency and intent in their eyes and their walk. Izman’s confronted superior stood up, straightened his jacket and stared Izman down.

“Look. I don’t like situation anymore then you do. But it’s not my call. They hand me the orders, I hand them to you. You follow them. That’s how it works. That’s how it’s always worked. So, sit here and spew at the mouth all your want and toss around your weight all you want but when you walk out those doors the file is still going to say the same thing it says.”

Izman grimaced a bit and his frustration and anger was seething through in the slight twitches he gave off. No matter how he wanted to spin this – the guy was correct. The Paladin very well could’ve refused the order all together, but that would mean a trip straight to the gallows. Izman knew he wouldn’t be there long as some friend higher up or with some form of influence would get him out. But there would be plenty of backlash in the some form or another. His commanding officer was right…no matter how you looked at it the bottom line was still, and would always be the same…

“I’m going to go up there.” Izman said with his finger pointing right at the mans face, “I’m going to rescue those kids, but you had better pray to Altana that I die a Hero’s death because when I get back…someone is getting one hell of a Valiant Boot up their ass and I’m starting with you Mister!”

And with that he snatched up the document and left the room, he was to leave immediately.

After Izman had prepared for his mission and made his way from the Chateau through the city it was very apparent the situation which was suppose to be kept very well under wraps was not in the slightest bit so. His outburst in the Captain’s room had, of course, sent a number of high ranking officers off in many directions clamoring on to everyone they could, some trying to get things changed, others perhaps not. By this time, however, it was all over San d’Oria and the general consensus was that Izman, had been sent on a suicide mission.

The unknown council’s plans thus far have been perfectly executed.

Of course, no one was allowed to aid him or help him in way, shape or form. As much as many wanted to, those who had the final say so, needed him to go alone. They had their own agenda to look after. The penalty for those who decided to interfere regardless of the proclamations made from the San d’Orian officials was very clear; life in the Oubliette.

As Izman trekked very begrudgingly through the forests of West Ronfaure Forest, he happened upon one such soul whose vocabulary was missing words just as ‘official proclamation’ or ‘penalty’.

A voice reached out with a bitter jest, “So, this is how San d’Orian heroes are treated nowadays? A solitary march to a certain doom by an Orcish Host?” Izman sensed a hushed chuckle in the brief pause, “I’ve always been more partial to the gallows myself. Something about an audience’s…involvement in a death just, oh, I don’t know…it’s more appealing?”

Izman, of course, recognized the voice straight away, the humor, the choice of words – everything cried out his name, “Kallo.” He said and the Thief revealed him thus, stepping out from behind a tree, “It never fails does it?”

“Oh, come off it!” Kallo grinned as he grabbed Izman’s shoulder and pulled him forward from his firm stance and guided the Paladin back into a walk toward Ghelsba as they chatted, “You know very well that as much as I’d love to take credit for this one…I only steal what’s worth it in the end.”

“Yea, and that’s what frightens me. At least if you tallied this one up to the ‘curse’ I’d know I’d have some chance of coming back.” He paused, “Be missing a limb, or a lot of blood…”

“Or a lot of both.” Kallo tacked on the end.

“But this…damn, this is just something else.” Izman sighed heavily.

“Which!” the Thief gave the Paladin’s armor an appropriate tap to punctuate his diction, “Is why I decided to tag along and make sure you’re well out of harms way!”

“Oh, you must’ve been late into town?” Izman asked, “Maybe not heard much about this ‘proclamation’ and the ‘penalties’ of ignoring it?”

The Thief responded in turn, “Heard about the ‘what’ that has a ‘huh’ for ignoring it?”

“I figured as much.” There was a slight silence for a moment, as they passed a tree Kallo reached up into and pulled down some type of fruit and Izman picked the conversation back up, “You have a plan?”

Kallo laughed.

“No plan. Of course. I forgot who I was talking to for a minute there. You never have a plan.”

The Thief smiled as he bit into his fruit, “And therein, is the plan itself, am I right?”

“…no. No you’re not. Not having a plan is not a plan.”

Kallo smiled and pointed to his own nose, then pointed to Izman’s nose.

The day passed slowly for Izman. He traversed the less populated paths of Ghelsba as he made his way deeper into the Orcish Stronghold, making sure to stay well out of sight as his temporary cohort did some deep reconnaissance work. Time seemed to play a very slow role while Izman lay in wait, the Sun hung overhead for twice as long as usually seemed to do. It was only a few hours after Kallo had left without saying many words that Izman wondered how long he should wait before he got worried. And how much longer after worried should he wait before he decided to go after Kallo. He decided to wait a few hours past worried. Time was up just as night fall began to set in.

As a young warrior of San d’Oria, Ghelsba was actually pretty common grounds for skirmishes between Orcish Patrol scouts and up and comings like what Izman use to be. It was during this time that he found a rare, rocky path that led to a small cavern. Through this small, cramped space you would enter Yughott Grotto. It was, of course, infested with just as many Orcs as Ghelsba itself, however, it was a lot darker and if you could sneak your way through undetected it was the backdoor into Fort Ghelsba. Izman made his way through the tight crevices and into the Grotto – anything bigger than a Hume wouldn’t be able to fit which is likely why it’s never been found out by the Orcs and sealed up. As Izman made his way in, the tunnel slowly became larger and more easy to navigate as he was finally able to stand up he came into a small room.

A leather bound palm fell down on his left shoulder from behind him as he straightened his armor, “Quicker then anticipated!”

The Paladin jerked away and his hand went to his hilt instinctively.

Kallo smiled, “You’re way to jumpy for this early in the mission.”

“Where the hell have you been?” Izman asked.

“Waiting. Where the hell have you been?”

“Oh, where the hell have I been?” Izman repeated, “I don’t know, waiting for Mr. reconnaissance to come back with the recon?”

“Waiting? Well, we can’t both be sitting around waiting. That’s counter productive.” Kallo rolled his eyes and walked past Izman giving him a tug, “I don’t know what they’re teaching you behind those piles of brick, but it’s about just as useful.”

“Alright, not prove to me you’re not completely useless. Did you find anything out?”

“Orcs smell.”

“Useful.”

“Well of course. Wouldn’t be much of a recon man if I didn’t would I?”

“It’s things like this that make me not want to return your letters.”

“Yea, yea. I found where they’re holding the hostages.”

“All of ‘em?”

“Yea…”

“And they…”

“…yea…all of ‘em. Five total.”

“Son of a…so we have to escort an entire day care out of Fort Ghelsba.”

“Don’t worry, it’s going to be all smoke and mirrors.”

“Oh, you’ve got a plan now?”

“I’ve had a plan. The first part of the plan was not to make a plan until I get something to plan with. I got something to plan with, so that makes Plan A, Part One a success. And now we initiate Plan A, Part Two.”

“…which is?”

“The Orcs were preparing for some type of ritual or festival…or some celebration? I don’t care, whatever, they have this huge vat of…”

“Stuff.”

“Right, stuff. Huge vat of stuff, Curse Makers and Hex Spinners and Grave Diggers dancing all around it – perfect for a distraction. So, I’ll do that, you grab the kids and make for the exit the same way we entered.”

“I like this plan too much.”

“Because I’m the distraction?” Kallo grinned.

“Are you going to be alright?”

“Yea, you know.”

“That must be Plan A, Part Three?”

“No, actually, getting out is usually Plan B.”

“You got that planned yet?”

“No, that’s Part One. Part Two is the planning.”

“Of course.”

Kallo came to a stop, “Ok, right here is where we part ways. You keep going straight up this corridor…”

“It’s a cave.”

“What?”

“It’s not a corridor. It’s a cave. A corridor is something you make. This is just like this.”

“Iz, why…? …You go up this cave…and the kids are just outside. You can’t miss ‘em. I

I’m going to go down this way.”

“What’s the signal?”

“You’ll know it when it goes.”

“That excites and scares me all in one big fuzzy way.”

They grin at each other and quickly part ways.

~ by Kallo on March 25, 2009.