Humble beginnings
The tenth day of kaldezeit, year 2508
The rain was pouring down. Klaus' father used to say kaldezeit was the worst month of the year, because "It was warm enough to rain during the day, yet cold enough to freeze at night." Klaus agreed as he stood on the steep hill overlooking his home village, Rückendorf. The scrawny lad was only five, his clothes were splashed with mud, his hands covered in calluses and his dark hair looked as though it had never met a comb in his life. He wasn't much to look at and neither was the village, only three score inhabitants and the land was as barren and inhospitable as was to be expected of the northern parts of Ostermark, indeed Klaus' family went to bed hungry more often than not. The houses, or huts rather, were old and rundown, several barely standing and there wasn't a watertight roof in the village as far as he knew. Poor, wretched, isolated, the village was all of these things, yet it was still home and he was distressed by the thought of leaving it.
He ran down the hill, across the now empty fields, along the little river where they had played with boats of bark a few days ago, past the gallows to stand at the only road that led to the village. It didn't take long, he was the fastest runner in the village, a fact he proudly proclaimed to anyone willing to listen. He walked on towards his home, the ground had been reduced to mud by the rains and he shivered as he splashed through the puddles, bare-feeted and drenched from the rain. He passed several houses with black X:es painted on them, a warning that the pox had taken those living inside. Those brave or desperate enough had started looting them but Klaus had been told to stay away, as he saw the boil-ridden corpse of the butcher being dragged away by a young woman he was glad he wasn't allowed inside. The bodies of the sick had been buried the first few weeks but since their priest of Morr caught the pox herself they'd just dumped them in the river, the priest's funeral was the last one held.
A group of people were walking and ringing small bells, most were draped heavy wool cloth and were wearing hoods, obscuring most of their features so Klaus had difficulty making out who they were as he walked towards them. He was stopped dead in his tracks as a sinewy hand clamped down on his shoulder, hard. He was spun around to meet Sieglinde's angry face. "Klaus, what did we tell you?! Don't go near them, those people are ill. Come on now, we're almost done packing." His elder sister clasped his hand and dragged him along.
"I still think this is a mistake." Klaus heard his father's voice from inside the house. "Don't start again, Franz..." He heard his father sigh. "We'll starve, Hedwig, sure as Sigmar's sausage." Klaus looked at his sister, she crossed her arms in front of her chest and tapped her foot uneasily, she hated it when their parents argued. "And we'll all catch the pox here! Taal's teeth, half the village is gone already!" "That means more food is left for the rest of us, where will we even go if we leave?" "My brother in Heffengen will take us in." "It's far away, all of the children won't make the trip, you know that. We can't feed-"
Klaus heard no more, because Sieglinde had once again grabbed his hand and dragged him along "Come on, let's go get water." Did she think he was a dog to be so easily distracted? He wasn't too young to tell things were bad. There was a long, tense moment of silence, until he spoke up, his face sullen and his eyes downcast "We're going to die, aren't we? Just like the Dachdeckers and the Kaufmans..." His sister crouched down to his eye level "Of course not, stupid. We'll be fine. You pray to Sigmar every day, don't you?" He nodded "Then we'll be fine, he'll protect us, I promise." She hugged him and picked him up, even though she knew he hated it. This way he couldn't see her tears.
It was already dark when they left, their parents had argued for hours and Sieglinde had done her best to distract the rest of the siblings but even children could tell something was wrong and they all felt scared and confused as they left, the rains still pouring down mercilessly. Klaus looked back and wished he was back home, dry and by a nice fire, or really anywhere but here. Then he trodded on through the mud and into the darkness. Would Sigmar really protect them?
This message was last edited by the player at 00:12, Sat 29 Sept 2012.
