Tales of Rimworld

Loner's Legacy (Schnabel colony)

In this dark age world, where technology had regressed to a medieval level, computer was a word that lost its meaning and its use. Swords and spears replaced the rifles and artillery.

Schnabel was a young sellsword, someone who sold his service for some silver. His last assignment ended in a bloody battle where no glory was to be found. His contracting lord was nowhere to be found, there were no allies or enemies left alive. Only he remained, alone in a field of death and decayed bodies.

Under the scorching sun, the warrior woke up, lying under the corpse of soldiers and mercenaries. His only belongings were his clothes on his back and his chipped sword. He was mostly unscathed, yet he couldn't remember how he lost consciousness.

Slowly, he got up and began reevaluating his life choices. He wasn't the brightest, nor the most charismatic. He had no family nor friends. Having no place to call home, he decided that it was best to make one nearby. Despite his doubts, he was certain of one thing, he didn't want to die alone and away from something he could call home.

The idea of building a temporary shack came to his mind, so he gathered wood to build his shelter. The task was difficult, him being stranded in a desert. He resorted to dismantling the remains of the war equipment left decaying on the battlefield. Since he was no engineer, he mostly used his rusty sword to hack at the wooden structures.

For the next few days, Schnabel lived alone, hunting nearby animals and tending to his needs. Eventually, the smoke from his fire camp attracted a lone brigand. Carol had been separated from her raiding party and she saw the lone man as a good opportunity to get more loot. Or at least get something to eat.

Carol charged at Schnabel, screaming loudly as if to scare him, but it only served to make her presence known. The brigand was easily captured by Schnabel who kept her as prisoner for a couple of weeks. They chatted everyday until she surprisingly fell in love with him, thanks to his obliviousness that made him somewhat charming. He convinced her to live with him and she accepted, feeling like it could be a new start in her life. 

And so, the loner became slightly less lonely, he felt a bit better having someone to sleep next to, someone to hold, and someone to share the warmth of his body. It didn't take long before a child came out of their night adventures. At that time, they were in their early twenties, and their repressed desires were let out once they began sharing the same bed.

As time passed by, the little camp grew and so did the raids. His camp was an interesting target as it contained valuables and potential slaves. Thanks to his combat prowess, Schnabel always managed to repel them and capture more people that he recruited with ease, despite his charisma being as smooth as sandpaper. Carol seemed indifferent when her lover slept with other women, she was actually rather happy that she had more female friends she could confide with. Eventually, he married six of them, loving them equally and spending time with them whenever he came back from exploring the nearby region.

Either be it by accident or fate, each of Schnabel's wives was an expert in their own field. Be it Pyrrah the healer, Nug the crafter, Karen the sharpshooter, Liliya the martial artist, or Layla the researcher. Carol revealed herself to be a skillful negotiator and trader, filling in for her husband's lack of social skills. Each one of them bore children, creating different branches of Schnabel's clan, each descendant inheriting their founder's expertise. Karen and Liliya often accompanied their husband whenever there was something to explore, or bandit camps to destroy.

Despite having many lovers and flings, the man still feared dying alone. Despite the many children he had, his fear was still present. Despite celebrating his children's marriages and holding his grandchildren in his strong arms, a lonely death still haunted his nights. The mental scars from waking up in a field of corpses still haunted him.

Even when drowning his dread in his lovers' arms or when playing with his children, he never shared his burden. He feared that sharing his fears would only distance him from the ones he loved, leaving him to die alone.

To prevent his death, he equipped himself with the best armor and the best weapon, all of which had been designed and crafted by his wives. He wore a gilded full plate armor made out of the strongest material this world could procure : plasteel, a relic mineral of the long forgotten civilizations. His master crafter wife Nug had spent days in the forge, often observed by her eldest daughter Missy. When Carol couldn't buy the rare material, Karen and Liliya would raid hostile outpost that held plasteel.

To make sure that none of his loved ones died, he became an unstoppable force on the battlefield, thanks to both his physical strength and his spell casting abilities. He couldn't bear seeing his family getting injured, which pushed him to charge the enemy lines, taking out any threat while disregarding his own safety. Only on the battlefield can he forget about his fear of dying alone. Chanting and casting spells to reinforce his physical abilities, he could move as quickly as three horses and he could withstand blows that could be fatal to anyone else.

And yet, time was still running, and the man was growing older and older. Despite getting in his forties, he never lost his combat capacities, however Carol had advised him to find an heir to become the clan chief. Knowing that her husband wasn't that smart, she only gave him one criteria, which was simple: they needed to be able to protect the clan. Another unspoken criteria was to have crimson red hair, similar to Schnabel's. She had proposed her only child Belle as a candidate, but still advised her husband to keep looking in the mean time. The mother knew that Belle wasn't as strong as her father, but she still wished for the best of both the clan and her child.

Schnabel kept that in mind and came across a couple more candidates, such as his adopted son Man who was a smart and kind gunner. There was also Madam, Nug's child who, despite being 8 years old, showed great potential as she was able to wield and use effectively a two handed sword. His adopted daughter Lady also showed some potential when she developed spell casting abilities, but none that could be useful in combat. When Carol read the list of candidates, she made a mental note to not ask Schnabel to name his own kids, seeing how oblivious the names were.

Years kept passing, and during a fierce defense of the town, Schnabel had to regretfully close the eyes of one of his bastard sons. Oruk was his least liked child, but he never could chase him away. That child had held the line and protected the town with all his might, and the chief came to realize far too late that Oruk was also worthy of bearing Schnabel's name.

Decades went by and the warrior, who feared dying alone, passed away peacefully while being surrounded by loved ones. During all this time, clansmen came and went, but the family was still there, always growing, always keeping their legacy intact. The six wives had their own district each dedicated to their craft, where they would teach their children and other clan members. Despite the absence of their former husband, they never remarried nor did they try to leave the clan.

His successor ended up being Belle, it had decided the day when she struck down several knights in heavy armor all by herself. She was still young, but the heads of the different families would help her grow. When she became an adult, she was able to don the armor of her late grandfather and safeguard his legacy. It did need some adjustments, and the excess pieces were kept in a box for the future wearer. With her red hair covered by her grandfather's helmet, she would be the first to charge the ones who would threaten her clan.

Finally, on Carol's suggestion, Schnabel's body was to be buried in a tomb which would gather every family member that would pass away. So even in death, he wouldn't be alone. Her wrinkled face would stretch into a pained smile as she closed her husband's casket, wishing that they could have spent even one more days together. But seeing Belle standing tall in Schnabel's armor, Carol felt at peace, knowing that she had ensured her husband's legacy.