Transcript:Monsters, Part 3

EPISODE THREE:
 Ext. Castle Ironhertz, Outer Hold - Afternoon
 NARRATOR
 Now, to understand much of what follows in our tale,
 you will need to know a bit about what had been
 happening in the west with the rebel general Traft. I
 wish there were a better time to explain this, but
 soon, things are going to get very interesting indeed
 for our party of travelers. So, best to tell you about
 Traft now.
 You’ll recall the unfortunate blacksmith who was taken
 prisoner on his way back to the now ruined Castle
 Ironhertz. What? You didn’t think I’d introduce you to
 a man just as tragedy befell him, only to never speak
 of him again, did you? What sort of lunatic would do
 such a thing?
 In any event, we rejoin the blacksmith as his cloaked
 captors led him through the ruins of his hometown.
 SMITH [SOBS QUIETLY]
 NARRATOR
 He wept for the devastation he saw, and for the many
 mutilated bodies of the men charged with defending the
 town. Then they came to the town square.
 SOUND: PEOPLE SNARLING AND GROWLING
 NARRATOR (cont’d)
 The smith had of course heard stories of Orcs before,
 but had counted himself fortunate that he had never
 seen an Orc. Until now. Now he saw pointed teeth and
 ashen skin and gruesome war paint. In short, he saw
 everything the stories warned of. Which is, of course,
 the great power of stories...but I’m getting ahead of
 myself.
 Though the rest of the surviving townsmen were
 encircled by several dozen Orcs, the smith was led past
 them towards a recently erected tent.
 Int. Command Tent - Simultaneous
 NARRATOR
 This was General Traft’s command tent. In it, Trafft
 had counsel with chieftains of the various Orc tribes
 which comprised his army.
 CHIEFTAIN The Civic Guard will be here by night. If we hold until
 morning, our reinforcements will defeat them, and we
 can attack Blackhold.
 ALL IN ROOM [SPIT ANGRILY]
 TRAFT 
 How many brothers survived this last attack?
 NARRATOR
 ...said Traft, in a tongue that I am doing my best to
 translate. Its name meant ’army,’ and it had been
 created so that the clans could converse in their
 camps. It was...well, they were still working on it.
 CHIEFTAIN 2 
 Many brothers fell before the Templars could open the
 gate.
 CHIEFTAIN 3 
 I dislike the Templars, brother general.
 CHIEFTAIN 1 
 What did he say about my mother?
 CHIEFTAIN 2 
 "Templars." He dislikes the Templars. Remember? "RrretmaA?" means "cares-for-things." "RrretmAa" means "cares-for-people."
 CHIEFTAIN 3 
 Respect, brother. But I don’t know why my mother is
 involved.
 TRAFT
 (TO HIMSELF)
 Oh, Garedian help us, we need to fix this language.
 (TO CHIEFTAIN 2)
 Continue your report, brother.
 CHIEFTAIN 2
 Near to 400 brothers remain. I’m less concerned with
 numbers than with arms. They have Easterner steel.
 TRAFT
 That is being worked on.
 NARRATOR
 As if on cue, the cloaked things - Templars, Traft
 called them - just then entered the tent with the smith
 in tow. Traft switched to the common tongue of the
 human realms of Iorden.
 TRAFT
 Just as I said. Leave us, please.
 NARRATOR
 The smith looked at this half-Orc general he had heard
 so much about. His body was sinewy, his tanned head was
 shaved, and his face was decorated with Orcish war
 paint. Six hills clan, specifically, but of course the
 smith didn’t know that.
 TRAFT
 Have a seat.
 NARRATOR
 The smith looked around and saw no chairs. Traft
 casually tossed aside his weapons - a double-headed
 scythe and a miner’s axe - and sat on the ground.
 Cautiously, the smith followed his lead.
 TRAFT
 I don’t think it’s rude if I assume you know who I am.
 SMITH
 You’re General Traft.
 TRAFT
 Sorry to say, I don’t know who you are. I know what you
 do, but I don’t know who you are. What’s your name?
 SMITH
 It’s Smith.
 TRAFT
 HA!! No shit? You’re a smith and you’re called ’Smith?’
 SMITH
 My father was called Smith. So was his father.
 TRAFT
 That ever bother you?
 SMITH
 I’m not ashamed of what I do.
 TRAFT
 You shouldn’t be. But I mean does it ever bother you
 that they name you after what you do for them?
 SMITH
 I...I don’t think I understand.
 TRAFT
 You will, hopefully. Let me get right to it, Smith the
 smith. I know there’s a pretty sizeable arsenal near
 here. I know it was promised to the Civic Guard, but
 I’m pretty sure they ain’t claimed it yet. I know you
 know where it’s at because you put it there. I’m very
 keen to acquire that arsenal, Smith the smith, and I’d
 kindly appreciate if you told me where to find it.
 SMITH
 (FRIGHTENED)
 What happens if I don’t?
 TRAFT
 Well, I’ll be forced to retreat, the Civic Guard will
 take this castle, and I’ll keep on with this war for a
 while longer. Probably lose eventually. They’ll flay me
 to death, and that’ll be the story of me.
 SMITH
 I mean what happens to me?
 TRAFT
 Well, I reckon you’ll live out the rest of your days
 about the same as you been doing.
 SMITH
 You’re not gonna torture me?
 TRAFT
 How much they paying you for that arsenal, Smith?
 SMITH
 ...A fair price.
 TRAFT
 Gimme a number, maybe I can do you better.
 SMITH
 I’m not gonna betray the realm for some extra gold.
 TRAFT
 You know what alchemy is, Smith the smith?
 SMITH
 That’s when you make gold out of something else?
 TRAFT
 Right. Out of something more common, or else what’s the
 sense? It’s quite the power.
 SMITH
 No one’s ever done it.
 TRAFT
 But they have. The Princes of Iorden, and their Elf
 overlords, have mastered alchemy. They figured out how
 to turn your sweat into their gold. They use the steel
 that you break your back to make, so that they can
 defend their lands.
 SMITH
 When they defend their lands, they defend everyone.
 TRAFT
 And how defended do you feel right now? They collect
 taxes on the lands they hold, don’t they? And profit
 off the fruits of those lands? Do you see any of that
 profit?
 SMITH
 I get enough to feed my family.
 TRAFT
 You ain’t got a family. You’da already asked about
 them.
 SMITH
 When I did, I mean.
 TRAFT
 What happened to them?
 SMITH
 They returned to Galadon.
 TRAFT
 If I remember, there was a pretty bad fever swept
 through the foothills about five or six years ago. I’m
 guessing that’s what got ’em.
 SMITH
 It was an Orc raid. Down by the river when they went to
 get water.
 TRAFT
 ...I’m sorry to hear that, Smith.
 SMITH
 You’re sorry? Then put a stop to it! Take your monsters
 back across the mountains where they belong!
 TRAFT
 Why do you think those raids happen, Smith?
 SMITH
 How should I know? Savages.
 TRAFT
 Do you know how I was conceived, Smith?
 SMITH
 I wasn’t there.
 TRAFT
 But you musta heard tell.
 SMITH
 Orc raid.
 TRAFT
 Please continue.
 SMITH
 Well, you know how people talk...
 TRAFT
 I’m sure I do. Tell me what they’ve said.
 SMITH
 They say that an Orc...well, your mother was alone...
 TRAFT
 An Orc raped my mother and that’s where I come from,
 right?
 SMITH
 That’s what they say.
 TRAFT
 There were probably around 50 Orcs in that raiding
 party. A dozen or so got it in their heads to start
 raping. My father wanted to stop them. He hid my mother
 - a human woman he didn’t know at all - and fought off
 a dozen of his peers before the Chieftain came through
 and broke up the fight. That is the story she told me,
 on her deathbed.
 SMITH
 So maybe some Orcs have some decency in them. What’s
 your point?
 TRAFT
 My point, Smith the smith, is to be wary of stories you
 hear. Especially ones that help the powerful stay in
 power. Those Princes I strung up - I asked each of
 them, "who do you serve?" First few thought it’d be
 brave to say, "galadon, the realm, and the king." After
 I hung a couple, they started saying they’d serve me,
 or they’d serve whoever I wanted them to. Now that
 really made me sore. They jumped from serving the
 people who had power over them most of their lives, to
 serving the man who had power over them right then,
 namely, me. No one thought for half a gods-damned
 second that maybe they should serve someone with less
 power than them. You see, Smith, everyone in this world
 has to choose who they’re going to serve.
 Unfortunately, you’re gonna have to choose a little
 sooner than you might like.
 NARRATOR
 Now Traft straightened up and looked Smith straight in
 the eyes.
 TRAFT
 They weren’t gonna pay you for the arsenal were they?
 They was gonna claim a "Crisis of the Realm," and take
 it all for free.
 NARRATOR
 Smith blinked first.
 TRAFT
 That’s what I thought. What if you still had a family?
 You’d be counting on payment for those weapons to feed
 them. What about your friends who mine the iron and
 coal for your steel. Don’t they have families?
 Shouldn’t they see some of the wealth that the Princes
 of Iorden gain with the iron they mine? With the steel
 you make?
 SMITH
 Hard work is its own reward. And there’s honor in
 living within modest means.
 TRAFT
 Did Hans Ironhertz’s wife ever have to go outside the
 walls to get water?
 SMITH
 It’s a lady’s right, to be safe in her family’s castle.
 TRAFT
 Who gave her that right? Who denied that right to your
 wife?
 SMITH
 Galadon.
 NARRATOR
 Smith traced the circle around his heart.
 TRAFT
 Dubious theology aside, how do they hold onto that
 right?
 SMITH
 It’s just the way of things.
 TRAFT
 What if before I come through here, y’all just marched
 up to the inner hold and demanded to stay?
 SMITH
 I imagine they’d tell us to leave.
 TRAFT
 And if you didn’t? If you stayed, and started pounding
 on the gates? Can you imagine any way that wouldn’t end
 with y’all getting cut down?
 SMITH
 I suppose I can’t.
 TRAFT
 They’da cut your own wife down with steel you made. The
 blood of commoners is the not-so-secret ingredient in
 their alchemy. Before me, every war you saw was between
 once Prince and another. That is what they do, with the
 steel, and gold, born of common sweat. Not bread for
 your belly, not a home for your family, not shoes for
 your children. Instead of feeding you, they feed the
 monster they created: War, so that they may become more
 powerful.
 SMITH
 But you started a war.
 TRAFT
 My war, Smith, is for the people who’ve never had
 power. I can’t promise that no evil will come of it. I
 can’t even promise that the results’ll be good, all
 TRAFT (cont’d)
 told. But I can promise this’ll be the first war you’ll
 see not fought for the strong to get stronger. So
 here’s my question for you, Smith. Smith the man. Smith
 the townsman. Smith the sculptor of steel. Smith the
 widower, whose wife contracted a fatal case of not
 being born to the right family. Who do you serve? The
 Princes, who’ve proven in no uncertain terms that they
 do not serve you? Or will you serve those who actually
 need your help?
 SMITH
 How do I know who you actually wanna help? You’re a
 chaos-worshipper.
 TRAFT
 Well, Smith, it’s my word against theirs. So, what you
 need to ask yourself is if you believe what they’ve
 told you in the past. That answer you gave, as to why
 your wife had to die - that it’s their right, that it’s
 the order of things, that galadon willed it. You need
 to ask yourself whether you’re really satisfied with
 that answer.
 Ext. Foothills - A Few Hours Later
 NARRATOR
 The small detachment of Civic Guard had traveled
 non-stop since dawn. They were relieved to finally
 reach the hill marked on the map that Smith had given
 to them when he pledged the weapons. They fumbled
 around for a while to find the well-concealed tarp, and
 then excitedly pulled it back to reveal...
 ...An empty hole. Then the ambush came.
 SOUND: SHRIEKS, SCREAMS, AND SWORDS CLANGING UNDER DIALOGUE
 NARRATOR (cont’d)
 The realization that haunted these Guardsmen in their
 dying moments was not that the Orcs had found them, but
 rather that the Orcs who beset them were armed, not
 with stone weapons, but with well-made steel.
 END OF EPISODE THREE.
Category:Episode Transcripts