It seems I had said somewhere in this board that I would write about him. So in order to have one less lore-promise not kept, here's a short story:
THE EARLY LIFE OF ALARIC WILDERMANN
-
SON OF MISCHIEF
There was a man of obscure origins residing in the woods of Ehlerdah. He earned his money from poaching the local lord's game and lived in a hidden shack on the mountain with his wife, a daughter and a son. Always he managed to escape the lord's men and set up booby traps and damaged their belongings to taunt them. He was a contented, ego-centric man, for he had most of what his short-sighted mind wished. His wife would stay home and weave clothing to sell in the nearest village market. His daughter he ordered to tend to their tiny patches of vegetable gardens scattered around the woods. He and his son would hunt in the woods. He taught his son in the way of deception and quick hands and printed in the boy's mind the desires of the world, the same desires he used to have but hadn't been able to fulfill in his time. He was a harsh husband and harsh father, but the family got on with their lives in their own, socially secluded way, which made the locals distrust them.
Then one day, when their hideout was finally discovered while the lord himself was in the woods with a hunting party, the lord's men surrounded his shack. The man's world seemed to crumble apart. The men shouted "Come out you devil! Our lord wishes to speak with you!". What should he do now? Does he have another option? Hesitantly, he opened his oaken door and walked outside and yelled back in defiance: "Why do you disturb me in my own house!?"
"Your rightful lord does as he wishes, you rat!", the lord said aloud. "You live on my land and poach my game. How unfortunate for you that your hideout has been discovered at last. Now it's time for payment, villain." The poor man was hideously outnumbered and fear was upon him, yet he insisted: "What gives you right to God's animals, oh well-fed lord? Are the creatures of the forest born with your name on their arse?". He was himself shocked at what he said and indeed some of the lord's men couldn't help but giggle faintly at the remark. Irritated, the lord gave a token for his men to make their move and though the man struggled he was soon captured. Finally he saw the horror of his pending demise. "Still talking with impunity? You know the law of my land, scumbag. But, your death will be swift by my mercy.", the lord said, his fat face smiling. The poacher was feeling a most terrible emotion; fear for one’s life. Never before, in all his risky years had he held his capture possible or an end to his selfish life plausible in this manner.
In an act of wickedness, he cried to the lord: “Spare me, most just lord! Spare me in exchange for my virgin daughter! Do with her as you like! Leave me be and I will loyally guard your forest until God takes my soul!” Some of the lord’s men gazed at him in disgust of this vile proposition. But the lord was clearly delighted and ordered his men to bring the poacher’s family from the shack, where they had been listening to the ordeal. Out came a lumping woman in tattered clothes, for her husband was a miser. She showed signs of now-lost splendor and sternness. Also came a young man, in a coat of hides, too large for him despite his large stature, obviously handed down from his father. He was about 13 years old. But then came the daughter, lo and behold, she was the very beauty of the forest itself, with silken hair and soul-piercing green eyes. Indeed, the locals had a myth of a taunting vixen speeding through the trees in merry song, only seen rarely. The lord was gloating and immediately he let the men holding her seat her before him on his saddle and he held her tightly with one arm. The girl was crying quietly and her young face was in agony for her father’s act of cowardice, devoid of any fatherly love. “Why, father?!”, she yelled in a high-pitched voice. The poacher did not answer and the lord shut the girl’s mouth with his left hand.
“Were it not that your seed had brought forth such an emerald”, he said, nodding towards the girl in tears sitting in front of him, “I would not have tolerated your wretched heart to beat on”.
With that the hunting party left the mountain hideout and the man was left behind with his wife and son. He said no word of sadness and showed no sign of shame, on account of his stubbornness and malice. The sun was setting and he simply told his wife to make some tea as he walked into the house. The woman, already having lost the vigour of life long ago, obeyed her husband’s command, her soul finally depleted, crying so loudly that the forest was tormented by it.
The boy was still outside, trying to comprehend what just happened. He stayed until the sun was down and the stars were bright. Then the boy picked up a stone and walked towards the shack.
His father saw him coming and said: “Alaric you idiot, what is that stone for? ”.
“Nothing”, said Alaric and he dropped the stone and came inside.
There was dead silence, aside from the crying mother. “Now we have one less hungry mouth to feed”, the poacher’s dumb brain finally concluded aloud. This gave his wife even more sorrow and she started crying yet louder. “You heartless beast!”, she yelled at her husband. Inside she wished for him to be gone, she wished she had rather never come to this world then to have come and become his wife.
The man was infuriated. He rose up to his feet and grabbed his belt. He felt he could not use her whining on top of what he had had to do in order to save his own skin. Anyone in his place would have done the same. “Quit your yammering, you whore!”, he yelled, as the copper embossed part of his leather belt flew towards the woman’s tear-soaked face.
It did not reach her. Alaric extended his arm to protect his mother and out from under his rawhide coat came his father’s hunting knife. With a cry of “You filth!”, he pushed the knife into his father’s guts. Blood came onto his face. His father’s eyes were looking at him, almost popping out of their sockets as the man fell down against the wall. Alaric was stunned for a moment. “You taught me to survive in the world by mischief father, but my sister and mother are pure! I hope you get what you deserve where you’re going”, he said and grabbed his father’s hunting bow, kissed his mother goodbye and left. But the young man’s vengeance was not yet satisfied.
He wandered the forest, living off scraps until he could not do so anymore. He had no plan on what to do, so he decided to leave the wide countryside around Ehlerdah and look for opportunities in Ulm. He heard distorted stories and rumors of his act along the way, but no-one really ever knew his father anyway nor recognized him. In Ulm he found various jobs, both honest and shadowy and trained himself in fighting whenever the opportunity arose. He joined Ulm’s militia, but was soon kicked out because of aggression against his pompous superior. Years passed in the streets, sometimes living like a rat and sometimes like a decent poor man. This went on until a mercenary captain discovered his natural martial talents in a large street fight. His path to the world was opened.
This is how Alaric Wildermann, as he came to be called, had started his journey of revenge, which he got by ambushing and killing the lord who took his sister, later followed by his widespread fame in the fields of battle as a mercenary general. Alaric Wildermann, a man capable of genuine horrors for self-gain, justified by his hatred of pretentious lords and his vow to leave the poor in peace, nevertheless showed to possess some small sense of dignity and selflessness. Though he fought usually for personal gain, a trait imprinted in his soul by his father, he was surprisingly present when Swadia was in its darkest hours. Such was his empathy to the struggling populace that he was one of the leading figures to slow down and wear out the advance guard of the Lion Throne as they were marching to Vienna and after the fall of the city he guarded the rear of the people who managed to flee.
He is both hated, feared and revered now. Even though Emperor Sigismund had enlisted him for Swadia’s defense, he still remains on every high noble’s list of villains to be killed. Wherever he appears he is greeted by commoners. But even in the presence of lords, none dare to arrest him on account of their own wrongdoings and Alaric’s radiant lordliness, however lawless sometimes. He and his exploits remain, in a way, a very imperfect, but effective conscience for those who think to have the right to push their own will upon every freeman on God's earth.
We have all heard of The Son of Mischief's many adventures. Who will tell how this engrossing tale will end? We can only wait and see..
! Ha! I thought that was familiar; one more little crazy awesomeness in an already insanely awesome mod.
