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| Fintan_de_Marin
Posts: 1,511 Status: Duke Karma: +250 [+1] [-1]   |
Subject: History of the Dark Boots of Seven Legues | |||||
 It was a dark stormy night. The wind howled down the mountain side in to the forest of leafless trees below. The young town of Eroynia was asleep, everyone that is except the cobbler. He alone was awake that night, working on a special order of boots that had been placed only two days ago. Eagerly, he polished the leather, shined the buckles, stiffened the soles. He was being paid three times the normal price to have them done quickly, and he was nearly done. All that was required now was for them to be sewn together. He glanced over at two small golden feathers that lay on the counter across from him. He had been instructed to put the feathers in to the boots someway. Not knowing why he was doing so, he picked them up and put them in on the soles of the boots before covering them over with a soft leather. The cobbler drifted back in his memory of getting the order. He could vaguely remember the man, but he could easily remember an eerie chill. It was as if someone dark and evil was in his shop that day. "Almost like he was a wizard" he chuckled. He knew that he would be wrong in saying that the customer was a wizard, practicing magical arts was illegal in the young country of the Westlands. The bell tied to the door rang, signaling the shop owner someone had come in. He assumed it was the customer who ordered the boots had arrived. The man who walked in had green eyes that could pierce solid steel, a hardened, average physique and very long nut brown hair falling far below his shoulders. He was clad in dark green and black. A broadsword hung on his side and bounced slightly as he walked up to the counter and placed his hands on it. On his left hand was a ring - a Silver Rose. "Is the order ready?" His voice was soft and yet at the same time could bite through steel. He brushed the water off of his oilskin cloak. It had begun to poor heavily outside before he walked in, leaving him soaked. "Very nearly My Lord." He was sewing up the left boot as he walked out. Once again as he gazed at his customer he felt an eerie chill. "Good, good" He put a purse of gold on the counter. "As promised, your payment." The cobbler nodded and smiled nervously as rain beat against the window. Dark shadows moved outside, clanking mettle...soldiers were moving towards the shop. There was a banging on the door. "Corvinus de Marin! You are under arrest for practicing dark magic against the people of the Colony of Westland! Come out now and you may yet see a fair trial!" The cobbler backed away quickly out of fear, wanting nothing to do with this. "Then come and take me petty humans!" drew his sword as lightening flashed across the sky seemingly splitting it in two. The soldiers broke the door down with a loud bang and charged in. Immediately two were taken out in a blast of fire that shot out of the wizard's hand. The others over took him quickly, though he put up a heavy fight. Soldier after soldier fell to strikes of either sword, lightening, or flame. Finally, after minutes of intense fighting and twenty of the fifty soldiers being dead, the wizard was subdued. With pikes at his throat he looked over at the last boot that was not fully sewn together yet. He pulled out a small dagger, the pikes pressing against his throat telling him do drop it or die. "I will not allow myself captured by such pathetic humans. My soul will live forever with in the soles of the Boots of Seven Leagues!" With that, he shouted an incantation in a mixture of Latin, Greek, and Gaelic and plunged the dagger in to his heart. Lightening and thunder stuck so hard that the soldiers felt the electricity within their armor and the windows rattled from the clap. The last boot sewed itself up as if the spell had forced it to do so. Corvinus' body was gone, vanished from sight. The remaining soldiers looked around in fear backing away from the spot in case he was still there some way. They grabbed their dead and ran off back to the barracks. Three hundred years later a man with deep emerald green eyes walks in to a boot shop with a slight limp. He had been in a fight and received a leg wound that rendered his boots useless. He gazed at a beautiful pair of boots that seemed to call his name. I must have those...they look beautiful he thought to himself. He picked them up and looked at them carefully. "Any help for you today My Lord?" asked the shop owner as he walked out. "I think I have already found a pair I like, may I try them on?" A Galway accent was heavy in the Cavalier. The shop owner smiled and nodded as he retrieved a stool for the man to sit on. "Of course My Lord of course you may! Wouldn't want you to buy something that does not fit now do we?" He took the boots from him and unfastened the buckles while the man unfastened his own boots. "Here we are sir." The cavalier took the boot offered to him and slid it on, it fit perfectly as if it was made directly for him. "Wonderful! A perfect fit!...What is the price?" "Well My Lord those are very old boots, at least 300 years old....how does...six thousand gold sound?" The man thought for a minute, doing some mental math of translation. He refused to use Westland currency and there for only carried coins of Arelia that he had his pay converted to. Six thousand gold is equal to three thousand Talones. "I'll take them." The shop owner was practically giving them away for the quality they were. He put the other boot on, and took out the gold to pay. The gold clinked on the Silver Roes ring he wore on his left hand. He paid the shop owner and walked out. now, for a pint at the Inn I think he thought to himself as he started walking towards the Inn that was about five or six miles out of town. He started to whistle a song on the way, but suddenly stopped both the whistle and the walking. He was standing infront of the Inn. "What the..." he looked behind him, the town was six miles away, then infront of him, the Inn was only a few yards away. It was like he had warped there as he had only left the shop moments ago. "I must already be drunk" he muttered as he walked in to the Inn, not knowing anything of the boots he now wore, or the power they possessed.  |
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