Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » Lost in the Blizzard - A village Torn

Boris strokes his beard contemplatively, nodding slowly at Ivan's suggestion. It made sense to him, certainly. He sent a glance to the knight as the rock was thrown - Odd, he thought, but he dismissed the subject. He let loose a breath, visable as all others have been in the low temperature. He glanced up to the sky, a light snowfall starting to kick up again, from a few overcast clouds. He lowers his bow and mutters, "Well then we need a plan. A plan that don't involve rocks." he glances to Drake again, shaking his head.

In these moments, Tarben was simultaneously aware of Kalliope's sudden 'ressurection' and of the brief debate betwixt the soldiers without.
As the former of these matters rose to struck him, he would have simply been dumbfounded, and the blow would have landed had she not reigned in herself her own defensive wrath.
'Tarben?', came her voice, and he recognized it after the same fashion that daisies recognize the warming rays of the sun.
Nonetheless, despite his urgent joy in this discovery, he would seek to silence her, fearful that the guardsmen without would do away with all doubt and flood into the small inn to apprehend them both.
His hands would seek to clasp over her mouth, as they had clasped over his previously.
Though no word will be spoken (should this be successful), the dilated pupils that stared back at her blood-and-wine-stained image should affirm in her that he meant only to quiet her to prevent their capture and eventual death.

As the man held outside trudged in return to his appointed duty, the butcher's boy responds with a hoarse whisper;
"I am. But I cannot find Yetta. Nor can-", he would pause to analyze a sound that had apparently frightened him.
"I can't find anyone else. What have you seen, teacher? Have you seen the dead?"

She looks at him, while she gently shakes her hair from blood and wine. She doesn't know Yetta personally, but she knows that they are close. She doesn't know how close, but it i still uncomfortable. "You're the only living person I've seen, since they arrived. Some ran. I saw them stab the miller's son, the little one. And Horace..." her voice cracks. "I killed Horace. He told me to kill him." she sobs, as a tear rolls from her eye and onto her blood stained cheeks.

Drake grabs a handful of rocks this time, and does the same again, this time making more of a racket. "...go over there you goof off..."

The Militiaman, now having made more note of the sound, picks up his spear, and heads towards the guard house. He rests his left hand against the side, and pokes around with the right, in a snowy bush, attempting to find whatever creature was creating the racket.

Due to the guard house being a good bit away from the village's wall, he actually is out of immediate sight. But he is still within ear shot, and only a few steps away from being back in the sight of his peers.

He stops and think for a moment. So far, nothing has come up for him, and turns to look at Drake. He suddenly flinches as he begins throwing more rocks in the general direction. He raises an eyebrow underneath his helmet and looks to Boris, confused. "Um..." He pauses and looks back at Drake. He then looks back at Boris and shrugs. "Whatever works I guess..." He finally comments.

Boris looks to Drake oddly. A strange plan, he would concur, yet he did manage to draw the soldier from his post. He then stalked out of the bushes, and behind a tree - His gut did poke out of the other side of the tree, yet his fur laden attire was similar in color to the bark, thus keeping him somewhat hidden. He whispers to Ivan, "If we both loose an arrow at him, we're less likely to miss.. But if we do put him down, we have to be ready to act fast, aye?" he says as he gives a look back to the soldier, who still prods the ground around.

Upon close inspection of this man, and his armor, they may note that it is mostly chainmail, which is hardly pierce resistant. He bares a black surcoat above it, with a crest matching the invader's banners, upon the breast. He is wearing a simple fur hood over his head, and a mask over his mouth, to warm his breathing. In fact, all of the soldiers seemed to be hooded and masked similarly, making it hard to tell one apart from another.

He can only swallow as he witnessed her mournful outburst. Whatever was he to say to her, afterall?
What was he to do? "He asked you-...", he begins before falling into concerned silence.

He would look over his shoulder to the entrance and,upon assuring himself in that there were no silhouettes there to stand, he would revolve to face her a second time with his mouth helplessly agape.

"You eased him from this life.", he murmurs then upon finding words he felt could comfort her.

Looking over once more, Tarben would attempt to maneuver himself to a place further concealed by the counter.

(Forgive me. A tired mind births lesser paragraphs.)

Ivan's eyes almost light up as the 'brigand' comes out. He looks a little to well equipped to be a brigand, and that crest... it seems almost suspicious to consider him a mere brigand. He tries to force these thoughts aside and focus on the objective. He looks at Boris and nods. He whispers. "Da, we'll be quick..." He says before taking aim at the brigand. He feels as if he should talk to him instead of kill him, but judging by how they treated the town, diplomacy seems out of the question.

Boris steps aside from his tree to give himself a clearer shot, pulling back the arrow he's held onto for the longest time, he waits hesitates to gain a steady aim. He mutters to Ivan in a low voice, "Three.. Two.. One.. Now-" And at the moment he speaks, he lets loose the arrow from his longbow...

Ivan narrows his eyes to were it focuses on the brigand. He is at best considered a dead shot with a bow and arrow, since he's spent most of his life training on horse back with a bow and arrow. As soon as Boris began counting down, he was ready, anticipating the time he'll finish the countdown. As soon as he said 'now' he immediately lets go of the arrow, causing it to fly through the air, and fly at the target.

The soldier looks up at the distant 'thunk' of the bow warping back into its original shape. Boris' arrow strikes him in the chest (He was a hunter, after all, used to striking animals for a clean kill.)
He collapses into the wall and utters a huff, only to be struck by the other arrow, through the throat, with deadly accuracy. The shot pins him up, against the wall of the wooden building. His spear slides from his hand and falls to the snow without a sound. The man himself died rather quickly, though the air escaping his lungs from both arrows would utter a gurgling, arid sound - akin to blowing bubbled under water - as well as a faint, high pitched whine.

Kalliope pulls herself together and rubs the tears of her cheeks, resulting in the blood on her cheeks getting smeared out. She then pushes Horace a side a bit, and moves so that Tarben also will be able to hide himself behind the bar. "They burned the school. They burned all the books and scriptures. I only managed to save a few." she says, as she wipes more tears and blood from her cheeks.

He looks on her with the same pity with which he looked on her before, though his face is veiled by the shadow that was cast by the bar.

"They raided the market.", he would reciprocate. "They sacked Yetta's father's shoppe, and they are building great fires..."

"Oh,teacher, what are we to do?", he asks of her, the boy to the woman, yet referring to her as a scholar.


Sppradically, he glances to Horace, lying there in his carmine puddle...

She runs her fingers through her hair, as she often does when she's thinking. Her hand gets a bit stuck, due to the dried blood. She looks at Tarben again with a look of hopelessness in her eyes. "I don't know... Maybe we should wait here. I'm sure the king has heard about it. He would never let something like this happen to his subjects." she says. "Or we could wait until nightfall and sneak out." she says.

Drake quietly creeps over to the dead militia man, still in the bushes. He takes the arrows out of his body pinning him to the wall and drags him into the bushes creating a rather red blood trail, but now at least the watchmen, if there were any, wouldn't know if one of their men got killed, or something else. He quickly sticks his fist out of the bush creating a thumbs up gesture toward boris and ivan, and goes back to his original place on the opposite side of the road.

Ivan if anything was a little surprised. He always had good accuracy on a horse but on foot, things seemed much easier. The rocking and bouncing of him on the horse whilst firing always made him adapt to it, and it seems to have transferred on foot perfectly. "Woah..." He mutters quietly. He shakes his head and goes back to the task at hand.

Noticing Drake moving the body away, and signalling that it was hidden nods and moves forward. He feels somewhat worried for the blood trail but thinks it best to dismiss it in order to move forward. "Let's go Boris." He mutters under his breath as he pulls out another arrow and rests it on his bow.

Boris stalks up the road, until he ends up near the dead fellow, and Drake. He moves towards the departed soldier and examines him. He grunts, and mutters quietly to the others, "This isn't just some Brigand.. This guy's uniformed.. Hrm.." he looks then to Ivan, appraising, and then again to the dead man. "You know.. You're about his size.." he trails off, raising an eyebrow, and sending a glance to Drake to see if perhaps his idea catches on. Or, if he has to say it aloud.

He whispers to boris. "Putting on a recently departed person's clothes would disrepect them. I'm a Knight, I can't do that, or that would bring great shame upon my Oath for disrespecting a dead body. Aswell as the uniform has bloodstains on it near the the puncture holes... that wouldn't be a very good disguise anyhow."

"They came through here an slaughtered innocent people, I think honor doesn't matter too much, no more." he huffs through his nose and looks to Ivan, "I'm too big for it." he slaps his gut a bit, "What do you think? Bad idea?"