[OOM] Bower Lake.
”Beyond these broken doors lies the Heroes’ Guild.” Theresa murmured in Sparrow’s mind.
Sparrow was soaking wet, from the swim to get to the tomb. He shook himself off, wandering down the bridge towards the chamber beyond.
”For generations, this academy trained the most supremely gifted sons and daughters of Albion, bound together by the blood that flowed in their veins. Once worshipped by the people of Albion, the great Heroes came to be feared and hated.”
Sparrow looked up, squinting at the pillar of light in the centre of the room, advancing towards it slowly.
Theresa kept talking. ”Nobody remembers the night the Guild burned, and now it lies forgotten. But the Heroes are not all gone. You are here. That same heroic blood flows through your veins.”
“That’s why you took me to the Gypsy Camp, then?” Sparrow asked, brushing a hand over the wall. It came off dusty. “To be close to this place?”
Theresa chuckled in his head, and Sparrow felt a twitch in his mind, like a telepathic gesture.
”Look around at these walls. Your forebear - one of the mightiest Heroes who ever lived.” Sparrow peered around. The walls were decorated with pictures, some of a child, others of a fully grown man, with long black hair. There were others, too, a red cloaked man with a mask, a blind girl and an old woman. He was amazed the pictures had survived so long. ”At a young age, he suffered a devastating loss, from which he never truly recovered. But when the world tried to crush him, he fought back. He grew strong, strong enough to reshape the world as he saw fit.”
Sparrow looked back towards the light. He knew what was coming next.
”You must do the same. The Guild has reacted to you - step into the light; learn the true power of Heroes.”
*****
The guard blinked awake as somebody approached, coat billowing, a little - the guard wondered, quietly, just how that worked when it was an altogether windless night.
“Apologies, citizen. The road to Bowerstone is closed due to the bandit activity.”
Sparrow looked up, blue eyes peering out of a heavy mop of black hair. “Bandit activity?” He flashed the guard a bright grin, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Come now, I’m only one man, I can hardly do any damage on my own, right?”
The guard shook his head, gravely.
“I’m afraid that as long as the bandit Thag is alive, the road stays closed. If you’re in a hurry, like, you could always take care of Thag yourself.”
Sparrow smiled, a little.
“Do me a favour, and point me towards his camp?”
*****
The flat of Sparrow’s sword collided with a heavy-set bandit’s head. He wobbled, before falling with a crash. Sparrow stepped over him, towards the shack that his dog was barking at.
The door burst open before he could get there. A massive, antlered man emerged, kicking Sparrow’s dog away, brandishing his cutlass.
“Thag, I presume?”
“No one defies Thag the Impatient!” Sparrow twitched an eyebrow upwards, crouching down to pet his dog as it slowly got to its feet, shaking itself off. “I’ll gut you myself! I’ll give you three seconds to get ready ... No, wait! Two.” Beat. “Oh, soddit.”
Four minutes and several clangs of metal later, Thag hit the ground, stumbling away. Sparrow flicked one hand, summoning three glowing swords out of the air, sending them flying into Thag’s clothes to pin him there.
He tugged his gun out, pointed it at Thag’s head.
He’d never killed somebody before.
But if he didn’t, he’d never get to Bowerstone, or to Lucien.
He fired.
Sparrow was soaking wet, from the swim to get to the tomb. He shook himself off, wandering down the bridge towards the chamber beyond.
”For generations, this academy trained the most supremely gifted sons and daughters of Albion, bound together by the blood that flowed in their veins. Once worshipped by the people of Albion, the great Heroes came to be feared and hated.”
Sparrow looked up, squinting at the pillar of light in the centre of the room, advancing towards it slowly.
Theresa kept talking. ”Nobody remembers the night the Guild burned, and now it lies forgotten. But the Heroes are not all gone. You are here. That same heroic blood flows through your veins.”
“That’s why you took me to the Gypsy Camp, then?” Sparrow asked, brushing a hand over the wall. It came off dusty. “To be close to this place?”
Theresa chuckled in his head, and Sparrow felt a twitch in his mind, like a telepathic gesture.
”Look around at these walls. Your forebear - one of the mightiest Heroes who ever lived.” Sparrow peered around. The walls were decorated with pictures, some of a child, others of a fully grown man, with long black hair. There were others, too, a red cloaked man with a mask, a blind girl and an old woman. He was amazed the pictures had survived so long. ”At a young age, he suffered a devastating loss, from which he never truly recovered. But when the world tried to crush him, he fought back. He grew strong, strong enough to reshape the world as he saw fit.”
Sparrow looked back towards the light. He knew what was coming next.
”You must do the same. The Guild has reacted to you - step into the light; learn the true power of Heroes.”
*****
The guard blinked awake as somebody approached, coat billowing, a little - the guard wondered, quietly, just how that worked when it was an altogether windless night.
“Apologies, citizen. The road to Bowerstone is closed due to the bandit activity.”
Sparrow looked up, blue eyes peering out of a heavy mop of black hair. “Bandit activity?” He flashed the guard a bright grin, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Come now, I’m only one man, I can hardly do any damage on my own, right?”
The guard shook his head, gravely.
“I’m afraid that as long as the bandit Thag is alive, the road stays closed. If you’re in a hurry, like, you could always take care of Thag yourself.”
Sparrow smiled, a little.
“Do me a favour, and point me towards his camp?”
*****
The flat of Sparrow’s sword collided with a heavy-set bandit’s head. He wobbled, before falling with a crash. Sparrow stepped over him, towards the shack that his dog was barking at.
The door burst open before he could get there. A massive, antlered man emerged, kicking Sparrow’s dog away, brandishing his cutlass.
“Thag, I presume?”
“No one defies Thag the Impatient!” Sparrow twitched an eyebrow upwards, crouching down to pet his dog as it slowly got to its feet, shaking itself off. “I’ll gut you myself! I’ll give you three seconds to get ready ... No, wait! Two.” Beat. “Oh, soddit.”
Four minutes and several clangs of metal later, Thag hit the ground, stumbling away. Sparrow flicked one hand, summoning three glowing swords out of the air, sending them flying into Thag’s clothes to pin him there.
He tugged his gun out, pointed it at Thag’s head.
He’d never killed somebody before.
But if he didn’t, he’d never get to Bowerstone, or to Lucien.
He fired.