Riches and Glory For All

[Tet'Nak] The day is passing through the night. The rickety buildings are scattered everywhere here, and very few have a light lit. The Old Village sleeps, except for a select few. In a small, unassuming, hut sits Tet'Nak. The rain falls outside, and inside, several pots have been arranged to catch the rain water. How he came upon this place is unknown, but he uses it now, knowing the guard of Kierkgard Dun is an uproar. With a blanket over his legs, the old man groans, stretching out as he attempts to relax his eyes.

[Saffron]

If the old man expected peace and quiet, the fates have other plans. The interruption comes in the form of footsteps -- and not heavy, intimidating steps that announce the arrival of hostile authority. They are somewhat timid, some unsure.

"You go in."

"No YOU go in."

"What if he is a madman, like the old man Gizzard says?"

"Of course he is mad. Only a madman can kill half a dozen Guardians!"

[Tet’Nak]

Tet'Nak huffs, there is a reason he always sleeps in his boots, and this is it. There are no lights inside, just like the rest of the village. He stands up, guiding only by the moonlight shimmering through the open hole in the top of the building, used as a chimney. With a jerk he pulls over the door and jerks out his sword. "Shut up, will you." Tet'Nak points his blade threatenly at the nearest person. "Who are you and what do you want?"

[Saffron]

With a sharp shriek, the two young boys jump back so far that they land on their haunches. They scramble to their feet, wide eyes staring at the sword, and go off running into the night, their feet splashing in the puddles formed by the uneven ground.

They run past three figures that stand a few feet from Tet'Nak's door. It is too dark to see any details except that they are men, one old, two young.

"Put away your sword. We are not of Kirkgard."

[Tet'Nak] "I put away my sword when I say I do," Tet'Nak grunts, "I did not ask where you were not from, I asked what you wanted?" His frown is keep, though hidden by the night. "Speak plainly and quickly, and softly, less you wake some pitiful fool and I am forced to kill you all where you stand." In the darkness, Tet'Nak shifts his stance, ready to drive his blade home. That these people have found him, whatever their reasons, it does not bode well for him. He is not able to as easily hide these days, so it seems.

[Saffron]

“I don’t intend to come close enough to test your mettle, if you are who they say you are.”  His voice is gravelly, his chest rumbling from an old ailment.  “And you will find that my two grandsons are not the same soft bellied fools you struck down in Kirkgard.    We look out for our own here.”

The two young men stick out their chins slightly as the elderly man continues to talk.

“There is no need to speak softly.  The village is small.  We know when someone comes even when we pretend not to notice.  That is how we look out for our own here.  I am here to ask, why you killed those Guardians.”

[Tet'Nak] Nearly a growl comes from Tet'Nak, "Because, why not?" He almost leaves it at that a shuts the door, but thinks better of it. Having the entire village up and in a panic is never a good thing. "Was he a protector of anything else than his own greed? Was he protecting you? He was a bandit, nothing more. A bandit set upon the very footstep of Kierkgard Dun by those that claim nobility over these lands."

[Carac] Another figure moves in the darkness behind those who have come in search of the one called Tet'nak. It is the one known as Carac and his weapon is drawn as well as he moves past the men to stand near the side of his 'partner in crime'.

Overhearing the question and Tet'nak's answer he nods in agreement. "Perhaps a better question is why you've allowed them to turn you into sheep? Why did you not rise up and slay them yourselves?"

[Saffron]

The two grandsons whip around at the new voice.  They remain right beside the old man, but watch Carac, following his every move with their entire body.

“Why not, indeed.” The old man nods slowly before shifting his gaze to Carac.

“Why did we not rise up and slay them?”  The rain continues to fall upon the old man, the steady drops making pitter patter sound against his tattered cloak.  “Are you blind?  Look around you.  We barely have enough to eat.  And we are not sheep.  The sheep are those who live under the protection of the city and the Guardians.”

[Tet’Nak]

"The Old Village, here, as you say." Tet'Nak lowers his sword, replacing it into his sheath. "Those that have power, wealth, how do they get it? Through your blood. Letting you starve while they eat fat." Tet'Nak shakes his head, "The Chieftains of your clans, they are no better than those dead Guardians. They are filled with sloth. Just a little fear, and they shall fall, and those may rise that will use what power and wealth they have to better your own lives. And if not, they should be destroyed." The old man laughs, "I must have been away from these lands for too long. Much has changed that men of Dunland would not rise up."

[Carac]

"Not enough to eat!" Carac says with a mixture of amusement and disgust. "Have the men of Dunland forgotten how to hunt? Caerdh forest is teeming with game. In days past the clans of Bear and Hawk needed nothing more than a bow or spear to feed their people. Do not make excuses for what is obvious to any who are not blind. The people of Dunland have grown soft."

He then pauses to listen as Tet'nak speaks and nods in agreement. "It is past time that you take back that which you have willing given away to the Guardians, to the Chieftains who know longer care about the welfare of their people. Take back your pride, your freedom, and your dignity."

[Saffron]

Whether they realize it or not, the two grandsons lets out the softest sigh of relief as Tet’Nak sheathes his sword.  But Tet’Nak and Carac’s words makes them tighten their fists in anger.  “What do you know of anything?  There are murderous orcs who regularly..”

But the old man cuts off his grandson by raising his finger.  The young grandson bites his lower lip and holds his tongue.

“You also seem to have forgotten the ways of the men of Dunland.  Yes, we are men full of rage.  Yes, we want to rise up and destroy.  But without leadership, rage goes nowhere.  As soon as one claimed himself leader, he was taken down by another filled with petty jealousy.  The fighting continued until we grew tired.“

[Tet’Nak]

Tet'Nak chuckles softly, "Leadership. There is a son of Chieftain amongst us here." Tet'Nak waves his hand past the man and toward Carac. "But you must prove you are worthy of being led, do you not?" He pauses, "Are you here full of words and hot air. Or are you here with passion. Actions, as they say, are louder than words." The old man leans against the doorway, simply waiting for the replies.

[Carac]

Carac looks at the boy who speaks and just chuckles. "There have always been orcs, lad," he replies. "That is part of life in this land the forgoil have driven us to, and why instead of allowing yourselves and your kin to be controlled by those who have forgotten what it is to be Dunlending, you should rise against them and return to the task of taking back the lands stolen from us long ago. Until that is done, the orcs will always be a threat, but they are nothing compared to the threat those who call themselves Guardians and Chieftains pose."

He looks a bit uncomfortable when Tet'nak refers to him as a Chieftain's son, but he nods all the same. "It is true, my father was Chieftain of the Hawk and later of Stag for a brief time, but he led men who were willing to give their lives for the hearth and kin and the retaking of our true homelands. What are you willing to sacrifice?"

[Saffron]

“Worthy of being led.”

The old man pauses, looking up to let the raindrops fall over his face before looking at Tet’Nak.

“Worthy of being led.  Son, you really must be mad.  Take a man.  Any man whose veins course with the blood of our ancestors.  A true leader will take any Dunlending and stir that blood within him until he will follow that leader to his death.  Prove we are worthy of being led?  Fine, I shall slice open my hand and show you my blood.”

He then turns to Carac.  “Son of I’racil.  Yes I know.  I knew your father.  He knew how to stir the blood of his men.  But can his son?”    

[Tet’Nak]

"Bah, blood oaths are for idiots!" Tet'Nak rolls his eyes, "Go, burn the Guardians Rest to the ground! Do something worth a damn you ignorant peasants!" The man huffs and steps back inside, "Take care of these men Carac, they appear nothing more than a bunch of bafoons that have heard to many MacMathian stories!"

[Carac]

Carac gives Tet'nak a nod. "I will join you shortly," he says and then turns back to the men. "What Tet'nak says is true, it will take more than blood oathes and fancy words to restore Dunland to its rightful place. It will take sacrifice and courage, you will have to go against those who you have been brought up to look upon as your leaders. There will be those who will call you traitors, heretics, and madmen, maybe even those you love. It will not be an easy task, but the result . . ." he pauses and makes a gesture towards the south and the distant Gap of Rohan, ". . . will be a Dunland that you have only dreamed of. Lands of rich soil and game. No longer will you have to dig in the rocks and hard scrabble to make your living. No longer will your families go hungry."

He turns to the boy who spoke earlier. "And no more will you have to live in a land that is constantly under the threat of orcs. There will be land and food for all those of Dunlending blood, there will be riches and glory for all."

He then turns back to the older men. "However, before that comes to pass we must rid ourselves of those who have taken control of Dunland, regain our pride and dignity. If what I speak of is something that you wish for, then gather more of like mind and meet in the clearing of the dark wood south of where we now stand in three nights. There we can begin making plans to take back what has been stolen, first your dignity and pride and then our true lands."

[Saffron]

The old man looks at Tet’Nak as he departs.

“Hasn’t changed, has he?”

He then turns to Carac and nods.  “Three days.  I cannot promise men who speak in fancy words or with like minds.  In truth, some may come out of greed.  Some may come out of anger.  And some may come simply because they want to break things.”