Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » Raid of Aftbide (Open)

The bandit who charged the militiaman made a coughing grunt of pain but kept pushing, clearly injured but hoping to make the most of his lunge. Sparing the grappling opponents, most of the bandits outside the back door were surprised by the dying one flung in their direction. A series of surprised and frustrated yelling resulted from it as some fell and others had to stagger back to avoid the same. The remaining man at the window pushed his way mostly through, pulling poor Kerik around his front just before the explosion took place. The large man was torn apart by the power and proximity of the blast but incidentally shielded the already-wounded bandit from instant death; instead Kerik went flying into the room, screaming, only to land right on top of Marcello.

Still bleeding and struck dumb by his temporary flight, the bandit just sort of held on to the bundle beneath him, feeling warmth but not yet understanding he was flopped on top of a grown man. Tara moved to tear her earlier opponent from Marcello but the sod held on tight. She glanced back at the opening in the building; a series of loud cracking noises resulted from the damage to the house's stability. It might not drop on them immediately but staying meant even more danger at that point. Furthermore, some of the bandits from the back circled around to that very opening to take the fight to Katja and they were especially angry.

So Tara kept it quick and slammed the pommel of her sword against the side of Kerik's head; knocking him unconscious so she could kick him off of Marcello. With the bandits distracted and running around she tried to place her hand on the blind man's shoulder again, saying, "Get up! We must leave soon." before turning to reinforce the new opening with the knight. One of the flanking outlaws spat an insult at the two and stood outside the gap, trying to size them up while another two ran in toward the warrior women. Tara met one, blocking a couple of attacks before angling her blade to slice open his side. She then kicked him into the man who'd cursed at them.

The young man looked horribly nauseas at the smell of blood, staggering to his feet and tugging his hood up. He seemed skittish with the noise going on around him; it was hard to tell where he should be going, trying to follow the sounds of Tara and Katja's voice. And though his hood covered most of his face, his pale skin and visible red eye caught the light easily. He was, currently, a walking target.

Katja ran the second man through just as she had done to the other, yanking Marcello closer to her as the boy stumbled, "What's wrong?!"

"T-The blood...I don't like the smell..." he mumbled, seeming off balance as he held onto Katja's cloak.

She cursed, holding her sword up, "We need to get out of here." She looked over at one of her last few standing men, the one grappling with the bandit, "Drake, hurry up!"

"Pushy old woman!" He growled back at her, and yanked the other man up by his shirt, throwing him face first into the floorboards. If it didn't kill him, it sure put him out.

Tara took a few steps back, just enough to grab her backpack and sling it over her shoulders while the man who'd been waiting for a chance to attack pushed his fellow outlaw away and got up. She didn't want to turn away to grab her cloak, cold though it may be; the militiamen were on their way and it wouldn't be worth a gut wound or burial to have a piece of cloth and fur.

Instead she returned to that side of the house, hoping to secure their exit. The brigand who just stood spat on the ground, some of those formerly behind the house moving to support a potential attack. Tara held her ground, feinting and stepping forward a few steps when some jolted away. One of the bandits moved to charge but another held him back, able to tell at that point that a disorganized assault would prove useless.

Drake's opponent was left in a similar circumstance to Kerik; sprawled and stunned on the ground. The latter started to come to but was too dazed still to register what was going on, staring at those around him blankly.

"Take him with." Katja ordered, point to Kerik. She needed one of these bandits for questioning, and this one seemed rather weak and maybe mildly stupid in her eyes. Drake grumbled something rather crude at her, but he did go over to Kerik, lifting him up off the ground.

"Hello there friend." He gave Kerik a grin that seemed everything but friendly, and threw him over his shoulder.

"Everyone, stay close!" Katja called out, looking to Tara, "You and I will lead. We have a camp far out, in the woods. We can rest there." She looked to the opening in the wall, "All we have to do it make it out.

Marcello had picked up her cloak it seemed, holding it tight under his arm while his other hand held to Katja, pale skin nearly covered by the long sleeves. His head would turn at every noise, and he seemed jittery and uncoordinated.

Kerik was largely unresponsive, only bothering to look at Drake before he was thrown over his shoulder. Then the bandit wheezed and wrapped an arm dumbly around the back of the militiaman's neck. It failed to grip anything other than his hair, so his other hand reached down and gripped at anything it could; armor, cloth, leather. Drake would be able to feel if the padding of his gear was not too restrictive a trickling of blood descending from near his neck, where his captive was staying. It was not gratuitous but would prove serious if not treated soon.

Tara glanced back at Katja and gave a solid nod. One of the brigands tried to charge while her head turned so she swung at him sharply and growled. He stepped back and cussed, startled. The warrior replied, "One second, I'll catch up!" while shooting a glance upward, then back at the bandits. One of the remaining brigands snapped, "You're not getting there alive!" In response she simply batted the boss of her shield with the blunt of her sword, stepping back when she was certain the Knights were out. As promised, she intended to return to the front of the retreating band but wanted to ensure the flanking outlaws she already blocked wouldn't just strike their backs.

The situation made it easy for her. The analytical one yelled, "Come on! We're not just going to let them--" until a much louder creak emanated from the building. Part of the structure snapped, causing the second floor to loom over their heads. Tara did not need to be told to avoid it and they didn't either, running in opposite directions to avoid the collapsing building.

Faolan felt a twinge of guilt at the destruction of the building but such feelings could wait; the collapse pushed a cloud of dust into the air and, although the house largely caved in on itself she wanted to make sure nothing fell on her newfound comrades, as well as that they kept going in the right direction.

Drake growled at him, "Hey, watch those hands lad." He could indeed feel it running down his back, and it was definitely not something he enjoyed. At all. So he started grumbling about it as they moved, "Yur little friend is bleeding, Captain. Ye may want ta hurry it up wi--"

As the building collapsed, they all jumped, and that seemed to be it for the young albino; he dropped to the ground, and judging on the lack of shaking coming from him, he wasn't going to be getting back up. While Drake looked angry at the display, there was a sort of sympathy on Katja's face, and she knelt down and managed to get the young man on her back. She stood, looking across the debris for Tara, hoping to see her following them. They all seemed to have gotten far enough away to avoid any serious damage.

Tara jogged out from the cloud of dust, kicking a clay roof tile out of the way with a stride incidentally. A bit disoriented by it, she appeared a few paces away from the rest of the group. When the traveler saw them she closed the gap, offering a simultaneously thrilled and stressed smirk. It faded when she saw Marcello, however. Remembering that Sauer had a limp in the first place, Faolan turned to her and said, "I can carry him." It was more an offer than a command, though she hoped the other woman would comply. Surely Katja was not to be reckoned with but with the injuries the group sustained they may have been caught up with before they knew it.

Kerik slouched when Drake growled at him. In the drunken outlaw's mind there was something distinctly similar between the now-exploded brute under the rubble and the foe that carried him. In resting he accidentally breathed in some of the dust, coughing a bit before quieting down.

The shouting of their enemies were more distant at that point. Between the fighting, explosion and collapse the entire village knew where they were, but weren't there to trouble them just yet.

Katja was the leader but she also wasn't stupid, and she knew her own limits (unlike a certain bandit she knew). So carefully, she passed Marcello off to Tara, "Let's get moving. We need to hurry a bit, since Drake said Kerik is bleeding."

"Aye, all over me back too." He grumbled, "Yer gonna owe me a new shirt, woman." He seemed satisfied at least, when Kerik finally stopped. He was a very easily irritated man, and this little bandit wasn't making things any better.

"Yes, yes Drake, whatever you say." She rolled her eyes, and began to lead the group through the trees, away from the village.

Tara nodded, blowing out a sigh when Drake grumbled. "I cut him in the first place," she added. "If anyone, I owe you that shirt." While speaking the warrior was not idle, she started walking toward the village's edge with Marcello over her shoulder. While doing so she wondered about the small things; how long it'd take the boy to wake up and if that process would be impeded by the blood on her tunic.

Kerik was starting to realize the gravity of the situation he was in; largely because of the vertigo he felt, being light-headed and dangling off of Drake. He realized groping around might just cause him more harm so he did his best impression of a rag doll and continued hanging limp, staring at the ground and the large man's feet. It was getting harder to do so since the alcohol was leaving his system, so he did the smart thing of reaching back to see if he still had his water-skin.

He did! Whether or not that motion was interrupted was up to the brutish man but if not he'd just drink complacently.

"She's tha one making me carry him," He grumbled, looking away from Tara. Drake didn't plan on stopping him if he was just going for his water-skin, but anything else and he might just throw the guy, "Ah'd be drinking ta, if ah knew what was waitin' for me once we get to camp." It was hard to tell if he was serious or just trying to scare Kerik.

Marcello seemed silent still, unmoving besides for the slow rise of his chest; the blood on her shirt would definitely make his waking rough, if he did being so close to it. As they moved through the woods, Katja had declined to light a lantern, to avoid attracting attention to themselves. She was silent, moving along the ground and observing their surroundings. Within ten minutes or so, Marcello had stirred, and the group stopped so he could stand on his own and get his bearings. He seemed flustered and embarrass at being carried, bowing his head a bit beneath his cloak, "I apologize for that..."

"Nonsense, it wasn't your fault. We all have our weaknesses." Katja smiled at him, but Drake didn't seem quite so forgiving (a given, judging on the way he treated Kerik and just about everyone else). He pulled out Tara's cloak from his own, holding it out towards her general direction.

"Ah...thank you, Ma'am." He kept his head bowed, both out of respect but also to try and make himself smaller, less noticeable.

While the band still walked and Drake retorted Kerik groggily regarded Tara and stuck out his tongue at her. The warrior raised an eyebrow but it wasn't visible under the helmet so things went on as usual. The bandit sipped his ale and, after a moment actually replied to the large man. "I ain't got nothin' to lose except m' booze." Then he sipped again.

Tara had just been walking through those same woods but regardless found a bit of difficulty navigating the terrain in the dark. To maintain relative quiet she kept her eyes to the ground, hardly even able to see her and Marcello's shadow cast against the plants and leaves below. When he stirred she slowed down, shifting a bit to find even ground. Faolan smoothly helped him off of her and made a small hum of nonchalance as Katja replied.

She took the cloak and gave a small, "Thank you," before wrapping it back around her and securing its brooch. "Don't fret on it. I was glad t' help."

"And your limbs." He said back cooly, "but if that's the case," He moved his hand to his back and nabbed the water-skin from Kerik's hands, "Now you have nothing to lose." What a prick. Judging on the pleased smirk he had on his face, this was entertaining to him.

While they let Marcello collect himself, Katja finally felt safe enough to light a lantern, "It isn't much further here, we have a small circle set up to prevent animals and enemies from entering camp." At the mention of the circle, Marcello seemed to look a little surprised, but he nodded a bit and when the group moved, he followed the sounds of their steps carefully. He took small steps to avoid stumbling over things, though occasionally his long cloak would catch on a root and he would pause to remove it.

Kerik was a lightweight but seemed very intent on that ale, so when Drake grabbed it from him he puffed and pouted, and moved to try and yoink the much larger and dangerous man's hair. Perhaps his inebriation prevented him from taking the situation seriously enough.

Tara did not notice the duo's antics at that point, having briefly been caught in a reverie. Her hand clenched at her side but then released when she heard Katja (who was probably much closer to her) speak. She nodded and followed along, glancing here and there to check on both the knight and her charge. She'd considered suggesting Marcello bundle his cloak somehow but since he didn't seem to be stumbling over it she let it be.

His eyebrow twitched and he took Kerik off his shoulder, holding him off the ground by the back of his shirt; it was a size difference between a wolf and a cub. He probably wasn't human, or not completely; humans did not get that big on their own. Holding him like that was probably mildly choking the kid, but Drake honestly did not look like he cared, "Yuh know kid, usually when a big angry man snatches you up, people don't play games. Yuh got a death wish cause at this point ah'm willing ta grant it if yuh don't stop screwin' wit me."

With Kerik held up in the air, Marcello was hit with a wave of nausea at the smell of blood again, but he just reached into his hood, tugging a thick mask up over his mouth and nose. He didn't plan on making a fool of himself like last time, especially not in front of this man.

"Drake, put the idiot back on your shoulder, he's going to try to escape if you keep underestimating him like that." Katja scolded, earning a glare from the larger man.

((sorry about Drake's accent being inconsistent, he's not a character I'm used to using often so I forget a lot to include it))

Kerik uttered a small 'Oof' before dangling by his shirt. For the time he'd been dragged he wriggled awkwardly and seemed to try escaping by sliding out of his shirt but there was nothing for it. The bandit was wearing a well fitted belt around his tunic, limiting how far he could sink under the cloth. Persistent struggling caused the cut in his shirt to tear a bit wider however, and keeping him that way might result in it tearing even more.

Tara glanced back at Marcello knowingly when the unruly bandit's position was shifted but upon seeing that he had something for it she kept on the path. She did not enjoy the large man's handling of the situation but very much doubted her own input would make much a difference, instead simply peering at them from the side.

Drake grunted a bit in response, but just threw Kerik back over his shoulder. He started walking again, and at first that was all the attention he would pay him; however, he moved his other hand behind his bag, holding out his waterskin again. And he actually hadn't dumped any of it out either.

They walked for a while longer, and as dawn inched along they came to a small clearing, scattered with tents. There appeared to be more in the trees, however the most noticeable detail would've been the thin, glowing line. Magic, it seemed, though what kind was debatable. Katja stepped through easily, and when Drake did, there was a very visible shift in his skin color; it became washed out and almost green, which meant, yes, he was definitely not human. When he turned to speak to Katja, he had tusks jutting up from his lower set of teeth, and his ears, though not quite as long as a regular orcs, were certainly more than a humans. A half-breed perhaps. From where Kerik was, he wouldn't see Drake's change until he was put down; the circle had stripped him of the disguise he used, and yet his appearance scared no one in the camp.

Marcello lingered outside the circle; he could feel the power from it, and wasn't sure exactly how safe it would be for his kind. He hadn't divulged the secret of his blood to Katja or anyone else; for what Katja knew, he was simply a young villager who seemed to dabble in minor magic. Never having interacted with circles on this scale, he was unsure of what to expect, and it was written all over his face.

Kerik wheezed a bit as he was raised back onto Drake's shoulder, taking a few long breaths before the water skin was offered to him again. He took it clumsily but then took a swig, as if preparing for something. Then again, he was already likely in a fair bit of pain. And perhaps the drink would make the inevitable interrogation slightly more tolerable, or short? The outlaw couldn't decide.

Tara slowed down when she saw the circle but did not seem bothered to cross it, only hesitating because she noticed Marcello's waver. She walked over and, despite her own desire not to, spoke to him. "Mind if I see yer hand...?" The man may not understand but she realized he may have a secret and, so long as it wasn't abundantly clear he meant harm she hoped to help him through it.

(Forgot to mention about the accent; I have accents in my head for most of my characters but I forget them most of the time xD so its nbd.)

"Take that one to a doctor, get him healed. We can't interrogate a dead man." Katja ordered. She had turned to look at Marcello and Tara, "The circle is only for protection, come. We should get you both someplace to clean up."

Drake grumbled under his breath about 'not being some damn babysitter.' Still, he carried Kerik to a large tent, and just dumped him onto a cot, "Hey doc! This one ain't ours, but Katja wants it patched up. Interrogation." When he set Kerik down, he had sat on a stool nearby, and from there Kerik would be able to see the full change of Drake. If he was even sober enough to process it.

Marcello looked panicked at Katja's words, but he turned towards Tara slowly, slipping his hand from under his cloak out towards here, "I-I just....I'm...not sure how..." He was stuttering again, looking pretty scared. He wasn't sure what she wanted, but he was complying.

"Just a second, then." Tara would have smiled if she thought he could see it. As it was she did the next best thing that the warrior could think of. Taking his hand gently, drawing it toward her, across the line ever so slowly to observe what he might fear without pulling him in entirely. Hopefully with his hand near her, whatever change took place would not be obvious to anyone but the two (in one way or another).

Kerik seemed not to be very focused by the time they reached the large tent. He sputtered and dropped his apparently empty waterskin when the orc placed him on the cot. He looked up at Drake with wide eyes, seemingly more amazed than terrified. Then he hiccuped and reached up, pointing at his face and slurring, "Y'got a case'uh wolf teeth thur'..."

His body ran electric, even at his hand crossing the line, and there was a shift beneath his hood and his clothes. His hand reached up to grab at his hood and hold it in place; he looked terrified, "They're going to see. They're going to see me, Ma'am, I can't walk through it. They'll feel me."

There was something different looking at his face now, unnaturally attractive, and his voice had taken on an almost memorizing tone despite it sounding the exact same as it had. Magic was at work within the young man, and it was not the good kind it appeared. These were powers akin to Incubi, but he was too human looking for that; more likely he was a Cambion.

Katja saw the panic on his face, and it was true there was something different within the circle now; the mage who had created it seemed to be advancing, looking between Tara and Marcello. His eyes focused on Marcello as he pulled a staff from his back, and, feeling the eyes on him, Marcello ripped his hand away from her, darting quite literally blindly into the woods. "DRAKE! AFTER HIM!" Katja yelled. The half-orc had just about gone to punch Kerik; had he not heard her command he most certainly would've done so, but he stood at the yell.

"I'm going to enjoy beating you to hell and back during interrogation." He rumbled, reaching and tying the bandits arm to the cot before leaving the medical tent.