I just started the mod yesterday and after reading the introduction, and how my first fifteen minutes ingame wound up... I was inspired to share the tale that is based on true facts! Even the easily conjured up events did indeed occur. The only liberty I took was just in how I reached those events and lucky moments... anyways... here it is.
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An aging third generation merchant flipped open the flap to his tent. It caused a rush of cold northern air to flood into the small dwelling and swirl around its resident. The man shivered from the sensation and scratched at the ever growing black beard, now streaked with slivers of grays. He didn’t care for the cold much, but since his purse had begun to shrink at the lack of profitable trading, the merchant was more or less forced to stay in the north.
The merchant then stepped out of his tent to dig around in the dying campfire, hoping to find a few warm embers with little luck. A heavy sigh was interrupted by the neighing of a nearby horse that caused the man’s head to rise up. The black saddle horse shook its mane and looked squarely back, eager to enjoy its pending meal. Eager to oblige, the merchant wandered over to the equally aged horse, putting the feed bag in place. He then repeated the process for his pack horse. They were the only two companions the man had left.
It had been three weeks since Durak Denos had enough coin to afford a proper escort. These days, he just wasn’t able to pay market value at some of the cities and pay a decent wage for protection. His last guard had actually left in the middle of the night, taking most of the rations that Durak had left in lieu of coin. It made for a sobering experience and now Durak traveled alone.
With his camp broken down, Durak consulted his map once more and rode in the direction of Ravenstern. The city was barely visible in the distance when a loud whistle crossed his ear. Turning in his saddle, Durak saw a group of six, led by two Red Brotherhood members, riding full gallop towards him. Another whistle caused Durak to wince as it grazed his leg. He needed no more convincing to flee.
Durak hurried to get away from his ambushers, but they were right on his heels and fired repeated crossbow bolts at him. Reaching for his own crossbow, Durak stretched his arm behind him and pulled the trigger, only to watch his missile to arc high and away. Despite his attempt at a show of force, the bandits kept on. The chased lasted mere moments before a blinding pain paralyzed Durak, causing him to black out, and later become a prisoner to the Red Brotherhood scum.
For what felt like eternity, Durak was held by the bandits as they raided other poor souls on the open road. The only delight Durak was able to enjoy in captivity was seeing only five of them return to their camp one day. Apparently, one of the outlaws got separated from the others and killed. Sadly, it meant whoever had done the killing sealed the fate of the others that day. There would be no prisoners; no slaves to sell from that robbery.
Another day came, and another attempt at highway robbery. Whilst the bandits were gone, Durak managed to free himself and escaped with what remained of his belongings, including his horses. A couple days later, Durak finally arrived at Ravenstern.
Seeking to erase the memories of his last couple days, the merchant sought refuge in a local tavern. There, he met Engrid and she shared with him a similar story of running into the Red Brotherhood and how she would gladly travel with him, though she needed fifteen hundred denars to pay off some debts to a family that housed her since her troubles. Fifteen hundred was something Durak did not have and sadly he had to bid her goodbye, but not before promising to return once he did. Afterall, he needed a true friend; a companion; a bodyguard.
From the surrounding local villages, Durak recruited nine of the locals to seek revenge upon the very brotherhood band that had taken him captive. Of course, he knew he could also line his coin purse in the process. It did not take long to find them. They were on the trail of ten villagers and had just caught up with them right when Durak arrived. The lifelong merchant, with little fighting skill to his name, rode to the villager's rescue. The brotherhood gang had been short another member due to another such highway robbery, and once Durak and his men entered the fray, the fifth of their number was wounded and nowhere to be found. This left four that the twenty one, between Durak's band and the villagers, had to face.
The fighting was intense and seemingly one sided at first, since while Durak and his band had numbers, the brotherhood were better equipped, mounted and skilled. For Durak the fighting lasted forever as he chased one brotherhood, exchanging crossbow bolts with him and their mounts being the only victims. The chase ended with the brotherhood member being encircled by six villagers and Ravenstern recruits. They pulled him off his mount and proceeded to beat him unconscious with thick cudgels.
As Durak looked around, two of the red bandits, as he now called them, were left and he kicked his horse into full gallop to chase one. The red bandit was skilled with his crossbow. He circled the flat-footed fellows following him and picked off two. Durak could do nothing to stop him as he wildly shot bolts to bring the bandit down with no luck. The red bandit then noticed the old merchant in chase and began to weave to fire bolts in response, forcing Durak to steer further away. The last time he met the group, it was a crossbow that had taken him down in two shots, and he was eager to leave that as the only such occasion. Durak, however, would not quit. Once he steered away and notched another bolt, he pointed his mount back in the direction of the bandit. There was no style to his aiming. There was no trained eye or experience in wielding such a weapon. Durak simply pointed and loosed the bolt. Amazingly, to the cheer of his remaining comrades and the grateful villagers, the bolt struck deep into the side of the bandit's head, painting the soil the very color of the bandit's brotherhood as he fell hard against the earth.
The rush of adrenaline was intense. All around Durak they cheered for him. The other bandit had been slain just moments before and the victory was theirs to enjoy. If there was one thing Durak was taught growing up, it was that all things came at a price, and life was no exception. Two of his own recruits had been delivered to the afterlife, while two more suffered injuries. The rescued villagers would later mourn the passing of a beloved sister and her husband. The two had been found together. Another farmer was also killed with a fourth villager suffering minor injuries. All of this was the price to kill one of the red brotherhood and one of his outlaws... the two that survived the fight, one being the surviving red brotherhood thief, would now spend their time in captivity to the very man they held captive just days before. The wounded bandit left at their camp would be taken back to the people's village to pay for his group's crimes there. There would be no more chances at life for that bandit.
Durak took the red brotherhood member, and the other hired thug, back to Ravenstern where he had met someone else at the tavern during his last visit. A man named Harris said he worked for the local red brotherhood and bought prisoners to ‘sell’ into other walks of life. Wasting no time, Durak took a sort of perverted pleasure in selling the poor wretch he captured to his own kind, making him have to live a life as a slave to others. It was a sort of just desserts for Durak. The tables had been turned, or in the old merchant's vernacular, he had just tipped the scales.
With the extra coin he received from pawning off the spoils of the fight, as well as the two bandits, Durak was able to pay off Engrid’s debt. From that day on, the two would hunt down the local Red Brotherhood members, bringing the end to a reign of crime that knew no limits. This would not be the end of Durak’s story, for it was just the beginning of how a forgotten merchant, in his twilight years, would forever alter the destiny of a land that believed only the harsh winds of Cloudmist Mountains could direct where a feather would fall.
