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Nametag:rook
THE BARDS OF DEATH
"That's quiet an instrument you have there," Red Sonja held
the knife a little tighter against the young man's throat as
she gave a good firm squeeze to his cod piece before passing
her bare hand to the harp dangling at his thigh.
The man made no move to struggle. The tall she-devil had her
knee in the small of his back, a knife to his bare throat,
and had taken him in the alleyway so unawares that his thighs
and knees and shins were pressed up against the short steep
flight of stairs that led into the back entrance to The Black
Dog Tavern.
A small trickle of blood ran along the keen knifes blade as
the blonde man tried not to gulp air into his tightening
throat less he aid in his own throat slitting.
"I have seen enchanted musical instruments that could heal
and enrage but never one that could entice a crowd of drunken
men to toss their coins away so freely." Strands of her long
red hair entwined enmeshing his sweaty face. The alley was
dark and ill lit except by the lone lantern above the door so
near and so far.
"But you went too far when you made me dance upon the tables
and strip before the bar room like a wanton whore," she
hissed in his ear.
"You sure that wasn't the wine that made you do that?" He
offered meekly.
The blade burned as it bit down a hair deeper so that now the
blood ran in thin rivulets down the blade and puddled upon
it's hilt which he could see just past his chin.
"Oh, I'm sure. How about you?" The voice was icy with death
just as her gray eyes were when he had seen her waking up
from the enchantment less than an hour before.
He dared not breathe let alone nod his head and so
desperately without moving his throat or his jaw he weakly
hissed an agreement gurgle.
"Now." He could feel and smell her breath still stale with
sour wine and his sperm upon his cheek though he could not
take his bulging eyes from the knife blade and handle; he
could manage to just see beyond his quivering stubble chin
and the precious blood that was glinting there. Precious to
him.
"Since you decided to leave me naked and dripping from every
hole with your dirty foul spunk in some seedy back alleyway
not ten blocks from here. I think you owe me a little
something." She held up the harp in front of his face.
He moaned despite himself. That magical harp was the only
thing that kept him fed over these past few months.
"You disagree?" She murmured into his ear. With sudden horror
he realized it was HIS knife?! Somehow she had snuck behind
him and yanked out his own boot knife and now held it against
his throat!
"Fine I will take both your instruments then," the knife
dropped from his throat and he was violently shoved forward
smacking his head into the top step of the back entry stair
to The Black Dog. There was a sharp burning pain in his lower
stomach buried under his dazed heads crack and then he rolled
over onto his back as he slid down to the bottom of the
staircase.
He saw her standing there all in shadows. Her left hand
holding his harp up and in her right hand the bloody knife
and his cod piece. Between them a wicked smile as her teeth
and eyes flashed at him in low laughter.
He saw the cod piece fall away from the knife and he clutched
between his legs and felt the sticky wet and sobbed as the
pain suddenly began to geyser within him.
*************************************************************
"It's a magical harp."
"I know it's a magical harp. What I want to know is what ELSE
you can tell me about it," the naked red headed woman hissed
as she stood before his desk.
The fence glanced at the woman.
She was well over six feet tall which made her a giant in
these parts. She was stark naked and not ashamed of the fact.
She had a huge mane of red shimmering hair that ran down her
back all the way to her proud firm full buttocks. She had an
incredibly beautiful oval face. With large gray flashing eyes
and high cheek bones and small nose and large pillow lips and
a small chin upon which there was a faint crescent scar. Her
limbs were slender and long like her lithe torso.
Her most noticeable characteristic was her huge round full
breasts! Easily each of them was larger than a man's head and
being naked he could see that each was crowned with a palm
wide puffy areola and ever hard thumb thick nipple.
If he pretended to study the harp more closely he could just
see her thick red pubic hair bush which was as wild and
untamed as the flaming wreathing hair upon her head!
"I can give you ten silver pieces for it," he added in his
usual deadpan snort.
"That is not what I asked you-wait! Did you say ten SILVER
pieces?!" She placed her hands on her narrow waist palms up
with the back of her hands on her flaring buttocks.
He saw the bloody knife in her right hand now and shifted
slightly uneasily upon his stool. His shop had been closed
when she had come pounding on his door and he was still in
his nightcap and sleeping shirt.
There was a plethora of weapons just under the desk top on
the shelf by his knees but something about the towering red
head made him feel more nervous that she might see the
weapons than the weapons presence now gave him any sense of
comfort or confidence.
If only his hired goon Manfred was here! Why on Earth had he
opened his door at 3 a.m. Breaking one of his most staunch
rules about business transactions and let her in here?! Well
because she was a teenage naked woman with jugs the size of,
er, well JUGS! THAT'S WHY!
He gave a weak smile, " I believe I said gold."
"That's still a fraction of its worth. Even to a fence! But I
am not interested in selling just yet. What I want to know is
what more you can tell me about it?"
"I am not a scholar or a wizard. I am but a humble pawn shop
owner who-"
"Oh stow it! You have been a fence for the thieves guild for
more years than I have been drinking ale! And you have
managed to keep this position due to your knowledge of arcane
and rare items as well as collectors of rare antiques,
ancient relics, and the occult. NOW! What I want to know is
what exactly is this thing!"
"If you know all of that then you also must know that I get
'paid' for such information," the man hummed and peered over
his half moon lenses.
"Look I don't want any trouble with the Black Hand, the
thieves guild, but I have friends in the Red Hand, the
assassins guild. And when the Red Hand kills anyone, anyone,
you can be sure the Black Hand is not going to go
investigate." She leaned back and crossed her arms under her
enormous firm breasts and glared at him.
That took some of bluster out of him.
He was an old man. In his fifties. Far from handsome all his
life. Lank in limb and tubby in tummy. Bald from an early
aged and his face all miss-proportioned. Even in his dreams
all sexual fantasy had long ago left him.
When he had opened his spy hole and seen that naked teen
girl... well it must have been a slight rush of blood
somewhere or better yet a brief glimmer of something
beautiful and sexual in his life if only for a moment. But
now he could see this was just another ugly business
transaction and he felt dejected and suddenly lifeless. No
matter how dangerous the woman was. He just felt dissolved.
Suddenly the red head changed tactics and leaned forward
putting her hands and thus her huge tits upon the table. "You
know what is better than money? FAVORS."
He had been staring at his knobby knees peeping out from
under the hem of his nightshirt. He looked up into her wide
flashing eyes and her devious smile and gapped and then
flushed and nodded and smiled.
He motioned her to bring the harp and follow him and he led
her back into his archives.
*************************************************************
The room was cramped with books and scrolls and soon the
table was covered with piles of open books and scrawled
notes. Both he and the red head moved about the small room
lined with book cases and often brushed up against one
another in passing and often he turned to see her round
bottom staring up at him and the wild tangle of her secret
cavern as she bent low and pondered some dusty tombes in a
wicker basket or pulled books off a bottom shelf.
But mostly they shared in that giddy thrill of the hunt and
long after day break and munching and slurping of bread and
ale and apples they kept shooting each other smirks and
giggles and sudden shared revelations as they unraveled the
mystery before them.
He had never been more joyful or happy. Ever.
*************************************************************
Red Sonja peered out over the ocean spray as she stood with
one leg raised up on the long boats prowl. The hoarfrost of
the Winter Sea's spume glinted upon her scale mail bikini
armor and flecked the thick fur of her bear skin cloak.
Behind her the men pulled at the oars and eyed the full
bellied sails and tried to ignore the woman as much as they
could as they also tried to ignore the bloody sword in her
hand and their four dead companions laying wrapped in the
spare sail sheets at their feet.
*************************************************************
The Winter Sea never knows any other season but snowfall. No
spring, no summer, no fall, only the hard frosty harsh burn
of winter all year long after long year after long year
after...
The long boat put her ashore where she commanded and cursed
her as it departed. She ignored them and headed up the snow
crusted slopes of the craggy island.
It seemed an odd place for a wizard to abode but who was she
to fathom the twisted depths of magic and those that followed
its briar paths.
The caverns maw was there. On the lip of the cliff. Dark and
sinister and ringed in icicles the size of the boat she had
just departed.
The black gulped her up and did not release her until she and
her little hip lantern stumbled upon an open air crevasse
unreachable by any other means than the cavern passage. Here
lay a simple stone structure from which a lone tendril of
fire seeped forth to turn to spindle thrift upon the upper
exposed sky.
The ebony skinned man inside was tall and thin and not taking
too kindly to visitors. But he was indeed the next link in
solving the unusual harps puzzle.
Unlike the man in the pawn shop this one wanted sex and lots
of it. She spent a month taming the man's pent up sexual
kinky lusts.
*************************************************************
From the Winter Sea to the deserts of Thoth. The black
priests. She kept her iron panties on here! Their kind of
kink lead only to death! And nasty summoned monster god
deaths at that!
Here the history of the harp led her to Akrion. The lost
desert city. It had been built upon the ruins of an even more
ancient city. She used the key she had stolen from the black
priests of Toth and unsealed the crypt world of the deathless
dinjin. Aboral spirts trapped away in the rocks of the earth
after being used as slave labor to build the city above.
In exchange for their freedom they gave her the final secret
of the harp.
*************************************************************
Red Sonja paused before the sealed up door of the pawn shop.
She had spent over a year traveling the far reaches of the
world to gain the harps secrets but had come back to the pawn
shop as she had promised.
The old man's favor had been to accompany her on the final
leg of her adventure. He had never been anywhere in his life
and done nothing exciting and challenging and after a life
time spent in his books and atlases he asked to go with her
at the final moment of truth.
He knew he could never have survived the search but he hoped
to survive the last stage of the journey. But he did not even
survive until her return arrival.
She returned to find his shop closed and boarded and his
neighbors tale of his murder and death just shortly after she
had left.
Just after the murder some shady sorts had been asking about
the neighborhood after a 'harp.'
*************************************************************
"Ah, we have our bard." The man who spoke was sitting high up
in the bough of a tree. He had a board before him with carved
pieces upon it. He was nearly bald with a tuff of hair on the
very top of his shaved head. His face was craggy and scared
and his naked arms and chest heavily muscled and tattooed. He
wore baggy silk pants and curled toe shoes in the Far Eastern
style. "Now we can continue our game."
Red Sonja looked down at the sword and harp at her hip and
then over at the short fat man sitting upon the green sward
also with a board with game pieces upon it before him.
This man now spoke, "I know, I know. It's very confusing but
please be quiet while I think. It's my turn."
"It's been your turn for over a year now," the man in the
tree huffed.
"Not my fault if pieces go missing all the time," the plump
man shouted and scowled.
"You should take better care of them then," the man in the
tree started to whistle.
"You ONLY whistle when it's MY turn!" The short fat man fumed
but he never once took his eyes off his game board. In fact
he was bent almost in half in studying it and its pieces.
Leaning so close that his nose almost touched them as his
eyes darted to and fro.
"Excuse me," Red Sonja spoke softly and both men looked at
her as if her ass had just explode raining live chickens all
about the forest glade. "But I am looking for a man named
Tarin."
"He's not here," the man in the tree said simply as he
crossed his arms across his naked chest.
"He's dead," the fat man added.
"Well, this must be another Tarin because I just left him at
our camp less than fifteen minutes ago." Red Sonja frowned at
the fat man.
"I said it can be very confusing." The fat old man rolled up
to a straight back seated position again. "You weren't
listening. You're friend Tarin died before the battle of
Marion's Wood. That was several battles back. If not an
entire war."
"Three wars to be precise," the man in the tree muttered in a
low breath and gave her a dead pan look.
"You see. Same Tarin, different boards." The old fat man
pointed at a game piece upon his board.
"It's the game you see," the man in the tree sighed. "You
were on one board and then you stepped off the board to here.
Which is not on any of the boards. When you leave here you
will step back onto a board. Perhaps not even the one you
came from if you're not really careful."
"Make your way back to your former board and Tarin will be
there waiting in your camp. But if you end up on another
board then maybe he's already dead on that board. On THIS
board he has been dead for several years."
"Six to be precise," the man in the tree yawned.
"There are others with boards playing as well," the old man
seemed almost giddy. "You and your Tarin must be being played
by some others on some other boards."
"That stands to reason," the man in the tree looked up into
the sun dappled leaves of his tree and frowned.
"But you're a bard and we lost a bard somewhere. So, why not
be a good girl and get on our board and let us continue
playing our game, hmmmm?" The old man purred at her and
smiled.
"I have never seen a bard before with a sword and chain mail
bikini." The man in the tree frowned deeper at the bright
sky.
"Nonsense," the old man fumed. "Why can't a bard wear a chain
mail bikini and carry a sword, hmmm?"
"She is carrying our lost bards harp," the man in the true
turned his mussing upon her again.
"Of course she is! She is our bard!" The old man shook his
head and clicked his tongue and laughed at the man in the
trees silliness.
"She could have filched it," the man in the tree's eyes went
could and the old man on the ground startled and then gave
her a very harsh look.
"Wait a minute. Are you trying to tell me you are playing
some game with living people as the pieces?" Red Sonja shook
her head in disbelief.
"No. What we are telling you is that there are dozens of
people playing the same game at the same time using the same
people as living and dying pieces," the man in the tree
leaned away from the trunk a little and nodded into the
distance. Suddenly there appeared squares of land raised up
and floating in the sky like steps leading upwards.
"That's- that's- monestrous!" Red Sonja fumed.
"It get's worse," the old man on the grass said in a dead pan
voice. "Up there." He nodded up the steps of land where one
could just make out horrific battles being fought by
thousands of men on each square of land. "There's two men who
are playing 'US' the players in 'THEIR' game."
"We can neither stop or cease this infernal pageant." The man
in the tree glared at her. Looking down at her in such a way
that his chin tilted up and his face tilted up so he was
looking so far down at her that he was looking up.
"How do I get up there and stop THEM!" Red Sonja unsheathed
her sword and waved it up into the distant ascending squares
of battle fields to where two hidden players played the
world.
Both men looked at each other and smiled.
*************************************************************
"Different tunes played upon the harp cast different magical
effects. But the harps true power lays in its ability to
transport the player in an instant to various far away lands
and even worlds. But you have to travel around and find the
tunes; for the magical songs have become scattered and lost."
The man in the pawn shop nodded as he feverishly reshuffled
his notes.
"Sounds like I have serious journeying ahead of me to find
the most important of these lost tunes," the naked red head
girl mused out loud her fingers cupping her small chin.
"When you find the spell that will take you to the world of
the gods. Come back and take me with you. That is the favor I
ask. Take me on that final journey. Promise me this and I
will equip for your journey and finance it as well. What do
you say?"
"I say you have a deal, Mister Tarin," the red headed girl
smiled and vigorously shook his hand as he laughed and
squealed with decades of pent-up lost joy.
*************************************************************
"So you survived your castration, little man. Pity you did
not learn anything from it," Red Sonja growled at the blonde
man who stood before her with a glowing lute.
"I knew I would eventually catch up to you, bitch!" The bard
growled.
"What's a matter? Cod piece a little too loose there, sport?"
Red Sonja smirked at the fuming man.
"Just get it over with," the men behind him were impatient.
"Use the magic of the lute to kill her so we can take back
the harp," the men were obviously all bards. They had
instruments at their side, abet not magical ones, and
worthless slim short swords and useless thin leather armor.
She had no idea why they were all wearing such obviously
worthless armor and equipped with such weak weapons?
"This harp does not belong to you. You stole it from a man
named Tarin!" Red Sonja shouted in rage. The harp at her hip
glowed.
"Tarin?!" The blonde haired man armed with a lute snickered.
"You mean the pawn shop broker? I slit his throat following
your trail! I never got the harp from him! I stole it on the
road from some red haired young bard!"
"It was his. Always his. In over a dozen life times all
played out at once. Upon a dozen planes of existence. But you
can't be the bard of the game if you lose the playing piece.
Once you stole it from him, his whole life changed. He lost
all memories of being the bard. You did that to him. You took
his music. And for that I will take your life." Red Sonja
raised her sword and pointed it level at the bard's eyes.
"She's balmy as hedge hog. Kill her quick before she tries
and use that harp." The group of bards howled.
*************************************************************
"I'm sorry Tarin. I searched and searched but I could not
find the song of the gods." Red Sonja stood in the dim musty
interior of the pawn shop.
"Ah," the old man choked back a sigh of disappointment and
fought back the tears. "Well, at least you came back and told
me."
"Here," Red Sonja handed the harp to Tarin.
"What's this? This is yours." Tarin reluctantly took the
harp.
"I can't play the damn thing. Would you play just one song
for me? Please?" Red Sonja smiled at him in an encouraging
way.
"Well, I haven't touched a harp since I was a lad. But... I
do think I remember one song. It's about a red haired warrior
woman who fought a heroic battle against the gods and...
won."
Tarin tuned the harp and began to sing and slowly an odd aura
of light came over him and as she watched the old man became
a young handsome man with fiery red hair who then vanished
before her teary eyes. "Good-bye Tarin. May your songs sing
forever."
************************************************************
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Script created with Final Draft by Final Draft, Inc.