Wry's Warriors

Wry’s Warriors

Chapter 1: Dawn
"Wrys spent the rest of his days in a monastery in Altea. He often lent a helping hand to prospective knights." These were the words that the bards sang about the curate who fought alongside the brave Prince Marth during his many trials. Given such a short verse of praise, Wrys was often relegated to a footnote in the history books. Details of what happened after the war were readily available for individuals such as Marth, whom had a country to run, Abel, who continued to search for his love Est, and Camus, who returned to the continent Valentina. Their stories whilst easily found were coming to a close, the majority of adventure and hardship behind them. Not so much for Wrys. His story was still yet to unfurl.

Wrys slowly climbed out of his modest bed, sliding on his leather sandals. After he had cleaned his face with the basin of water on the window sill, he placed his curate garbs on. Wrys then slowly stepped out in the monastery central. Wrys had built this monastery by himself to provide shelter for the orphans of Altea. It was a simple building. The central segment was wide and expansive covered by a triangular roof. This was the meeting room and the dining room. The right wing was the children’s quarters, and the left wing the abode of the monastery staff. Besides Wrys there were two more workers. Melody had originally been a young child staying at the monastery. When Wrys was called to duty once more she ran it in his absence and grew into a competent young woman. All of the children loved her carefree joyful personality. On the other side of the coin there was Vevdan. A well meaning but ultimately strict middle aged archer. Forced into retirement due to a heel injury he pledged his services to Wry’s monastery due to a friendship with the curate. When he isn’t in full blown control freak mode he enjoyed teaching the children archery. Home to around 15 children Wry’s monastery was a quiet calm slice of paradise for these children.

“Damn it Melody! What the hell were you thinking?”
“I’m sorry, I’m not perfect like you Vevan. Christ, I just let the kids play in the bushes!”
“It could have been bloody well poison ivy Mel, did you check? No? Why am”
“Children. Please what is occurring here?” Wrys asked with a wry smile looking at Vevan and Melody in a rather heated incident.
“Absolutely nothing Wrys. Vevan just got a tad angry, as he is prone to do so.” Melody said as she briefly moved a strand of her red hair out of her.
“Like hell I did. Your little Melody here let the kids play in the bushes, with ou”
“Mhm. Well. I think it’d be best if the children were allowed to play, but next time Melody let Vevan check the bushes.” Wry replied calmly as he smiled. These arguments between Vevan and Melody had become quite the common occurrence and Wrys had quickly learnt to end them peacefully. Grumbling under his breath Vevan wandered off as Melody sighed.
“That man is so uptight. He just never lets go… always worried! Marth The world is safe now, and Prince Marth will see that it stays that way..” were Melody’s rather exasperated words.
“My dear, that seems to be quite the over reaction. Wishing for the children to avoid poison ivy, and what you're suggesting are leagues apart. Prince Marth is just one man my sweet.. he will try. That is what counts.” Wrys remarked as he watched Melody throw her hands in the air, sigh, and storm off. A chuckle creased his face as he slowly went around the grounds, checking upon the children. Everything was satisfactory and with that Wrys briefly returned to his quarters. Slowly writing inside a leather bound book, Wrys penned a letter to Lena. She was currently engaged in some coven up in Medon. As such Wrys would often visit her and her him. Every now and again during the writing of the letter, his eyes would stray to the window, to soak in beauty of the nearby landscape. Forest for miles, with a sparse little plain here and there. At the current moment however he found his eyes not fixated on the forest. Rather the people inside the forest. An armor knight, a wyvern rider, and a thief seemed to be engaged in a rather brutal fight with some bandits. Bandits did not often come this close to the monastery… foul played was afoot.

“Freya, form.Your lance arm is not quite making the full stabbing motion.” Arnel said with a slight laugh in his tone.
“Hush Arnel, or I’ll see your axe arm separate from the rest of your armor clad body. Don’t let your lovely blonde hair end up stained red.” Freya retorted as she drug her Wyvern into the air, before swooping in to pin a bandit to a nearby tree.
“Less talk. More fighting.” grunted Relia digging her knife into a bandits back, kicking him off her blade. She rolled forward, her knife ending deep inside a bandits eye, the bandits eye ending experiencing an out of body situation. “We’re going to get overwhelmed if you two don’t start pulling your weight..” She huffed, breath a lacking commodity for her lungs. Sad as it were the three individuals could not seem to keep pace with the sheer amount of bodies that the bandits were throwing at them.
“I got ere boss!” yelled a bandit about to smash his axe down on Relia’s neck. “I’m go-” his voice cutting out as an arrow lodged itself firmly in his windpipe. Another bandit fell, arrows protruding from his eyes, and yet another one collapsed an arrow insert cleanly into his heart.
“When did we employ an archer?” Relia asked in between deep breathes, looking at Anrel who merely shrugged.
“You didn’t.” Veven said as he gritted his teeth, plucking arrow after arrow from his quiver, his brow furrowed. “Tch. They are fleeing.”
“Do you have any wounded?” Wrys asked as he quickly entered the battlefield, moving over to Freya. “Please madam. Hold steal.” He said as he slowly rubbed a vulenary over her wound, before tying it in bandages.
“Just who might we have here? You two gentlemen have a good sense of timing.” Arnel said as he slowly removed his helmet.
“Vevan.” Vevan stated shortly.
“Wrys. Simply a humble curate.” He said with a warm smile.