The knight's grip did not falter but she waited long enough to hear Iskra's revelations regarding Katja. Thoughts of the missing lady's orc companion came to mind but were pushed aside. Only once the woman was done explaining and subsequently taunting them did the warrior's grip soften, though she didn't let go just yet. Instead of replying immediately to the bandit king she canted her head in the direction of Atoli; more indicating to the harpy that she was answering her than anyone else. "Aye, find her, but don't harm her. Her rescue takes precedent."
She looked back at Iskra, eyes hardening as the other knight called over her shoulder. "It doesn't matter what she has to say, out-lander! Lord Pentre demands her arrest; if you won't do it, you'll be hauled together to the dungeon!" The warrior kept her gaze on the bandit, muttering, "D'you believe this?" to the woman before retorting, "You have no right. I'm sent by the king himself." back towards the man. Then her voice lowered, her attention returning to Iskra. "I do intend to bring you back to him, by the way. So are you going to come quietly?" Though it was beyond the knight to promise, she dearly hoped that Sokol would oblige. She suspected that the king may be more merciful than Pentre; the man the other knights undoubtedly would try to bring her to.
(If you want you can have Iskra break free of Tara, I don't like godmoding too much; even if the situation's stacked against her.)
She looked back at Iskra, eyes hardening as the other knight called over her shoulder. "It doesn't matter what she has to say, out-lander! Lord Pentre demands her arrest; if you won't do it, you'll be hauled together to the dungeon!" The warrior kept her gaze on the bandit, muttering, "D'you believe this?" to the woman before retorting, "You have no right. I'm sent by the king himself." back towards the man. Then her voice lowered, her attention returning to Iskra. "I do intend to bring you back to him, by the way. So are you going to come quietly?" Though it was beyond the knight to promise, she dearly hoped that Sokol would oblige. She suspected that the king may be more merciful than Pentre; the man the other knights undoubtedly would try to bring her to.
(If you want you can have Iskra break free of Tara, I don't like godmoding too much; even if the situation's stacked against her.)
Taff, enjoying the privilege of greater strength and the muscular body, had no qualms in scooping his scrawny body which contained Grum and swung him over the shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He walked outside the building rather hastily at that, more out of fear than urgency, and briskly made his way out of that less than welcoming shelter.
"You only have yourself to blame... after all you encouraged me to make use of force..." assured Taff
"And you shouldn't enter others properties without permission, that is ... trespassing and it is a serious crime, worse than theft even. You could have had us both killed for that stunt" scolded Taff
"Now calm yourself down before you bruise my wrists or your body's back, it is unbecoming of a prisoner to show such defiance and rebellion, it will only get yourself maimed or worse even... give me a bad reputation... or worse than that, you might attract enemies, foes, bounty hunters... who knows... Just keep your voice down and be still" urged Taff patting Grum's back as if trying to appease a distraught child in a rather patronizing fashion
"We clearly cannot stay here, outnumbered and barely armed... lucky for us... magic grants stamina so I shall neither be tired nor require rest for quite a while, I can carry us back to Aftbide all the way without stopping en route. You just have to indicate the way... that's all.
See... having grown at the royal palace one struggles to identify the path at the forest, they all look the same to me and I honestly would not want to stumble into Onyx camp again, that really startled me..." muttered Taff walking away from that strange woman and the bear
((OOC @Iltheyn, ask for edit if necessary ))
"You only have yourself to blame... after all you encouraged me to make use of force..." assured Taff
"And you shouldn't enter others properties without permission, that is ... trespassing and it is a serious crime, worse than theft even. You could have had us both killed for that stunt" scolded Taff
"Now calm yourself down before you bruise my wrists or your body's back, it is unbecoming of a prisoner to show such defiance and rebellion, it will only get yourself maimed or worse even... give me a bad reputation... or worse than that, you might attract enemies, foes, bounty hunters... who knows... Just keep your voice down and be still" urged Taff patting Grum's back as if trying to appease a distraught child in a rather patronizing fashion
"We clearly cannot stay here, outnumbered and barely armed... lucky for us... magic grants stamina so I shall neither be tired nor require rest for quite a while, I can carry us back to Aftbide all the way without stopping en route. You just have to indicate the way... that's all.
See... having grown at the royal palace one struggles to identify the path at the forest, they all look the same to me and I honestly would not want to stumble into Onyx camp again, that really startled me..." muttered Taff walking away from that strange woman and the bear
((OOC @Iltheyn, ask for edit if necessary ))
The harpy nodded at Tara, her unruly black hair bouncing as she did. “Alright, no harm will come to the Captain… But what if she refuses to come with me? I can’t carry her off like she’s a sack of valuables or something.” She shrugged her feathery shoulders as she spoke, staring up at the knight.
Atoli frowned, looking thoughtful; The prospect of having to bring back the Captain wouldn’t be easy, or even possible unless they came willingly.
“When I do find her is there something I can show or say that you know would make her follow me?” Atoli asked Faolan, but gave Iskra a lingering glance as she spoke, since the Bandit King seemed to know the Captain as well.
Atoli frowned, looking thoughtful; The prospect of having to bring back the Captain wouldn’t be easy, or even possible unless they came willingly.
“When I do find her is there something I can show or say that you know would make her follow me?” Atoli asked Faolan, but gave Iskra a lingering glance as she spoke, since the Bandit King seemed to know the Captain as well.
The idea of going to see Pentre certainly put some fire in her body; there was no way in hell she would face that madman.
"I'll go with. Maybe not quietly. But I will go peacefully at least." She responded gruffly, moving her hand from her blade. Iskra sighed a bit, reaching up and grabbing Tara's hand; with a bit of pressure, she pried the Knight's hand from her collar, standing slowly and brushing the snow from her shoulders. She regarded Atoli with a hesitant gaze, looking at the claws and feathers, before removing the blade from her belt-- her only weapon it seemed, though it would be wise to assume she had something else hidden.
What she had retrieved was a rather ornate dagger, with a hilt made from a Unicorn's horn, "Show her zhis. She knows its mine... if she tries to run after that, just whack her over head and drag her back here. That hag is a stubborn woman.... she's bound to ask too many questions. And take that cloak," she gestured to the one she had discarded in the snow, "It's unmarked so no one should assume she's a bandit. I doubt she has her own....she probably left without her armor too." Iskra sighed, shaking her head; for someone who claimed to want the Lady Knight dead, Iskra knew an awful lot about Katja, and seemed more than willing to get her to safety.
"I'll go with. Maybe not quietly. But I will go peacefully at least." She responded gruffly, moving her hand from her blade. Iskra sighed a bit, reaching up and grabbing Tara's hand; with a bit of pressure, she pried the Knight's hand from her collar, standing slowly and brushing the snow from her shoulders. She regarded Atoli with a hesitant gaze, looking at the claws and feathers, before removing the blade from her belt-- her only weapon it seemed, though it would be wise to assume she had something else hidden.
What she had retrieved was a rather ornate dagger, with a hilt made from a Unicorn's horn, "Show her zhis. She knows its mine... if she tries to run after that, just whack her over head and drag her back here. That hag is a stubborn woman.... she's bound to ask too many questions. And take that cloak," she gestured to the one she had discarded in the snow, "It's unmarked so no one should assume she's a bandit. I doubt she has her own....she probably left without her armor too." Iskra sighed, shaking her head; for someone who claimed to want the Lady Knight dead, Iskra knew an awful lot about Katja, and seemed more than willing to get her to safety.
Tara turned her head somewhat to indicate she was listening to the harpy. She thought for a few seconds and then said, "If you can't bring her back, track her, leaving a mark on the trees to tell your passing." The knight considered what that mark might be, to avoid confusion. "An A, if you can." Though she'd suggested the letter, Faolan kept her attention partially on the harpy to see if she could follow through (after all, it wasn't uncommon to be illiterate.) The plan was not foolproof, she thought, but for such short notice it would have to do.
Before the warrior could back Iskra spoke, sighed and wrestled Tara's gloved hand from her collar. As the bandit king's fingers wrapped around her wrist a sharp pain ran up her arm-- a reaction from her lingering injury, she realized. The knight bit her lip to avoid vocalizing her pain but couldn't keep her own fingers from releasing and curling somewhat with it. As soon as they had, they relaxed again, all in the effort to hide weakness in the face of the other's.
The other knights jolted at this motion, some raising their weapons, though none moved to apprehend her themselves. Tara raised her other hand with an open palm to suggest they remain that way. The warrior nodded in Atoli's direction, indicating her confirmation of Iskra's comments and offerings.
"Well then, let's not waste time." Faolan took a few steps back, turning partly away to gesture back in the direction of the tavern.
_
Though Taff hauled Grum along (the latter continuing to throw a tantrum despite his pleading) the strange woman's arrowhead was not shifted to follow them. Instead it remained pointing somewhere in the trees, lingering a few seconds longer before being loosed among them. The bear padded the ground as it watched their departure but soon turned to face whatever it was she shot at as well.
A hissing, gurgling sound broke the sound of birdsong and rustling leaves, followed shortly by snapping branches and a loud thud where the mark in question fell to the floor. The archer turned to look at them, brow still furrowed and eyes widened with strain.
And as Taff grew near to the overhang they'd first passed something moved on the other side of it. The wind shifted, carrying with it the strong stench of rot and disease. A pair of bloodshot eyes, green and yet unseeing peered out from behind the mound to stare hungrily at them. The flesh of the being they belonged to was darkened; both by a layer of mud and a thick, dark liquid which seeped slowly from part of their head. They gurgled and started to shuffle from behind the overhang, toward the two.
Before the warrior could back Iskra spoke, sighed and wrestled Tara's gloved hand from her collar. As the bandit king's fingers wrapped around her wrist a sharp pain ran up her arm-- a reaction from her lingering injury, she realized. The knight bit her lip to avoid vocalizing her pain but couldn't keep her own fingers from releasing and curling somewhat with it. As soon as they had, they relaxed again, all in the effort to hide weakness in the face of the other's.
The other knights jolted at this motion, some raising their weapons, though none moved to apprehend her themselves. Tara raised her other hand with an open palm to suggest they remain that way. The warrior nodded in Atoli's direction, indicating her confirmation of Iskra's comments and offerings.
"Well then, let's not waste time." Faolan took a few steps back, turning partly away to gesture back in the direction of the tavern.
_
Though Taff hauled Grum along (the latter continuing to throw a tantrum despite his pleading) the strange woman's arrowhead was not shifted to follow them. Instead it remained pointing somewhere in the trees, lingering a few seconds longer before being loosed among them. The bear padded the ground as it watched their departure but soon turned to face whatever it was she shot at as well.
A hissing, gurgling sound broke the sound of birdsong and rustling leaves, followed shortly by snapping branches and a loud thud where the mark in question fell to the floor. The archer turned to look at them, brow still furrowed and eyes widened with strain.
And as Taff grew near to the overhang they'd first passed something moved on the other side of it. The wind shifted, carrying with it the strong stench of rot and disease. A pair of bloodshot eyes, green and yet unseeing peered out from behind the mound to stare hungrily at them. The flesh of the being they belonged to was darkened; both by a layer of mud and a thick, dark liquid which seeped slowly from part of their head. They gurgled and started to shuffle from behind the overhang, toward the two.
The adolescent hybrid almost skipped their way towards town, any notion of subtlety in the approach absent. This however unlike all the other moves made by the being was a calculated one. For someone of their outlandish appearance, trying any other approach than a direct carefree one would raise suspicion. The intended impression was that of a young foreigner with an older more local looking man serving as his guide. The story like many of the best was almost entirely true, making it all the more believeable.
Upon seeing the guards point the Hybrid would continue on normally for a bit at a slowed down rate, so that within a few moments Kerik would have caught up with him. In a slightly broken version of the local language they spoke out, "sooo, this iss the ... the ... town? of which you spoke of?"
Tom and Zafira only hoped that Kerik would catch on to what their plan was.
Upon seeing the guards point the Hybrid would continue on normally for a bit at a slowed down rate, so that within a few moments Kerik would have caught up with him. In a slightly broken version of the local language they spoke out, "sooo, this iss the ... the ... town? of which you spoke of?"
Tom and Zafira only hoped that Kerik would catch on to what their plan was.
Atoli watched wearily as Iskra pulled the dagger from her belt. She deftly took it when it was offered and turned it about in her clawed hands, showing particular interest in the hilt; her crafty mind couldn’t help but consider how much she could sell it for. She met Iskra’s eyes and gave a small, peculiar smile. When the woman continued, she replied with a simple, “Will do.” And tucked the dagger away safely under her leather tunic.
She looked at Tara when she spoke to her now, her face looked blank when she mentioned to mark the trees with an ‘A’. Her brows scrunched together in thought, not wanting to ask what an ‘A’ was. “How about one of these instead?” She crossed her hands together, forming an ‘X’.
Bending to grab Iskra’s discarded cloak, Atoli missed the look that passed over Tara’s face when Iskra grabbed the Knight’s wrist. She straightened her back and dusted the snow off it before flinging it over a shoulder.
She looked back to Faolan as the woman began to turn away. “I’m off then.” The harpy gave a last stare at Iskra, “You were more help than I expected you’d be. Good on ya!” She said rather cheekily, sounding a little like she was complimenting a stubborn child. She gave a skipping run before taking to the skies and flying to the forest.
She looked at Tara when she spoke to her now, her face looked blank when she mentioned to mark the trees with an ‘A’. Her brows scrunched together in thought, not wanting to ask what an ‘A’ was. “How about one of these instead?” She crossed her hands together, forming an ‘X’.
Bending to grab Iskra’s discarded cloak, Atoli missed the look that passed over Tara’s face when Iskra grabbed the Knight’s wrist. She straightened her back and dusted the snow off it before flinging it over a shoulder.
She looked back to Faolan as the woman began to turn away. “I’m off then.” The harpy gave a last stare at Iskra, “You were more help than I expected you’d be. Good on ya!” She said rather cheekily, sounding a little like she was complimenting a stubborn child. She gave a skipping run before taking to the skies and flying to the forest.
Kerik's pulse quickened as the hybrid gleefully frollicked down the path. He studied the congregating guards a few more times before jogging down to join them, glancing between them and the unwelcoming town beyond. The bandit wondered just what had convinced him to stay with the two so long until they spoke up again. His eyes widened a bit, then returned to them as he tried to comprehend. It didn't take long. The man cleared his throat a bit and nodded. "Aye, so this, eh, this is Aftbide." He glanced at the guards.
The armed men watched carefully; one, who'd had his hand on the hilt of his sword, wavered a bit with confusion.
_
"Aye, that'll do. Good luck." The knight confirmed to Atoli. She took a few seconds to watch the harpy ascend before turning back to Iskra; then turning again to guide her towards the tavern which Merthyr had frequented.
((Short post on Tara's part just because I'm waiting on an Iskra post and don't want to go too crazy before that.))
The armed men watched carefully; one, who'd had his hand on the hilt of his sword, wavered a bit with confusion.
_
"Aye, that'll do. Good luck." The knight confirmed to Atoli. She took a few seconds to watch the harpy ascend before turning back to Iskra; then turning again to guide her towards the tavern which Merthyr had frequented.
((Short post on Tara's part just because I'm waiting on an Iskra post and don't want to go too crazy before that.))
Iskra glared at the harpy, grumbling something rather violent sounding in her mother tongue; Russian wasn’t a particularly lovely language and she certainly didn’t do it any favors with the tone she spoke in. She dusted the rest of the snow from her pant legs, and the woman tilted her chin up, her slate blue eyes scanning over the Knights that watched her, and landing on Tara’s face.
“Careful with zhat hand.”
She walked forward calmly after that, as if she wasn’t surrounded by the enemy; the Bandit seemed fearless, though if that were the case she certainly wouldn’t have been so wary of Atoli; and the way she stopped at the door to the tavern suggested other fears too.
Perhaps Pentre was there waiting, or the maybe this King would get what information he needed from her and send her off to Pentre? The Bandit rubbed her neck, but steeled herself; and then stepped back. She turned her harsh gaze to Tara, “You go in first. If I just go valtzing in your King might have a little fit.”
——————-
Miles to the north, and coming down the mountainside, was the blonde Lady Knight, though she hardly looked herself. In fact, Katja’s normally long blonde braid had been cut short, in uneven strands; having once come down to her hips, it now stopped short of her shoulders, falling over her face in thick strands and curling up at the ends. The thick wool tunic she wore was no match for the cutting winds of the mountain, and the snow made things no better, melting on her feverish skin and chilling the woman to her core.
For a moment, the Knight really felt she was much to old to be doing this kind of physical labor. At this age, she should’ve already married, had children...for a moment, that small fantasy, of a home and a family to call her own, brought the Knight some kind of comfort. She thought back on her home, on her father and picking flowers as a child, hearing stories from the older women in town and sewing her own dresses. Pleasant memories that warmed her heart, and even though they did nothing for her body, they brought a bit of spirit to her sickly state.
Another sharp gust of wind tore her from her imagination, and she shuddered, pressing her face into the thick mane of the horse she had stolen from Iskra; quite a sturdy beast, though it wasn’t quite as fast as her own, Katja could see why Iskra chose strength over speed. How the bandits even made the trek down the mountain in this treacherous weather was beyond her.
’Ah, But they don’t. No wonder Onyx is so rare to encounter in this season...’ She thought to herself, peering through the trees. Katja could hardly tell where she was, and with no map or compass, if she encountered more enemies she would be in for quite a struggle.
“Careful with zhat hand.”
She walked forward calmly after that, as if she wasn’t surrounded by the enemy; the Bandit seemed fearless, though if that were the case she certainly wouldn’t have been so wary of Atoli; and the way she stopped at the door to the tavern suggested other fears too.
Perhaps Pentre was there waiting, or the maybe this King would get what information he needed from her and send her off to Pentre? The Bandit rubbed her neck, but steeled herself; and then stepped back. She turned her harsh gaze to Tara, “You go in first. If I just go valtzing in your King might have a little fit.”
——————-
Miles to the north, and coming down the mountainside, was the blonde Lady Knight, though she hardly looked herself. In fact, Katja’s normally long blonde braid had been cut short, in uneven strands; having once come down to her hips, it now stopped short of her shoulders, falling over her face in thick strands and curling up at the ends. The thick wool tunic she wore was no match for the cutting winds of the mountain, and the snow made things no better, melting on her feverish skin and chilling the woman to her core.
For a moment, the Knight really felt she was much to old to be doing this kind of physical labor. At this age, she should’ve already married, had children...for a moment, that small fantasy, of a home and a family to call her own, brought the Knight some kind of comfort. She thought back on her home, on her father and picking flowers as a child, hearing stories from the older women in town and sewing her own dresses. Pleasant memories that warmed her heart, and even though they did nothing for her body, they brought a bit of spirit to her sickly state.
Another sharp gust of wind tore her from her imagination, and she shuddered, pressing her face into the thick mane of the horse she had stolen from Iskra; quite a sturdy beast, though it wasn’t quite as fast as her own, Katja could see why Iskra chose strength over speed. How the bandits even made the trek down the mountain in this treacherous weather was beyond her.
’Ah, But they don’t. No wonder Onyx is so rare to encounter in this season...’ She thought to herself, peering through the trees. Katja could hardly tell where she was, and with no map or compass, if she encountered more enemies she would be in for quite a struggle.
Merthyr was yet again sulking over a mug, facing the hearth by himself, his finger absent mindedly sliding the royal seal around his finger... as worry increased by each day and hour that Taff and Katja remained absent, all too aware of the creatures of darkness that lurked in the forests and other bandits too.
He was absorbed in the memories, his mind struggling to remember the day of the events, where he stood, by Taff, at his side, then came Tara... and Katja... he recalled voices, some faces. Grum... Grum stood there, at arm's length. He had not given any indications of making any brusque move against him or Taff.
How then... how did he manage to seize Taff and disappear? There were guards... oh yes... and that ungodly creature, the wraith making his way there too. Did the wraith erase his memories? Did anyone see how Merthyr had woken up on the ground, Grum gone, Taff gone and the wraith gone, a hard hit to his head painfully reminding him of what he missed... the most critical part of the battle.
Where did that assault come from? He had been standing on guard, addressing Grum... who could have attacked so close and quickly? there was no immediate danger at such close proximity that he could recall and the gaps in memories and events clearly troubled the young king, who let out a deep breath he didn't know he was holding, in defeat.
He was absorbed in the memories, his mind struggling to remember the day of the events, where he stood, by Taff, at his side, then came Tara... and Katja... he recalled voices, some faces. Grum... Grum stood there, at arm's length. He had not given any indications of making any brusque move against him or Taff.
How then... how did he manage to seize Taff and disappear? There were guards... oh yes... and that ungodly creature, the wraith making his way there too. Did the wraith erase his memories? Did anyone see how Merthyr had woken up on the ground, Grum gone, Taff gone and the wraith gone, a hard hit to his head painfully reminding him of what he missed... the most critical part of the battle.
Where did that assault come from? He had been standing on guard, addressing Grum... who could have attacked so close and quickly? there was no immediate danger at such close proximity that he could recall and the gaps in memories and events clearly troubled the young king, who let out a deep breath he didn't know he was holding, in defeat.
Pentre allowed the king to continue with his private thoughts, undisturbed, and came outside for fresh air. Noticing Tara as soon as he crossed the tavern's door, Pentre came to get reports of the errand, whether she had seen, heard or found anything.
And... he paused... his smiled growing wider as his eyes set upon Iskra no less... Iskra of all possible bandits. Seems, all in all, today was a good day after all.
Pentre leaned briefly against the door post, his eyes darting off at Prodius, giving the head guard instructions on how to proceed "Go... ready the gallows... I have waited for her neck long enough" smirked Pentre now turning his attentions further to the new arrival
"Well, well, well, do my eyes betray me? Iskra Sokol in flesh and bone, alive and breathing... the leader of Onyx... the second most wanted criminal in the kingdom... delivered into my hands and captive too. How did that happen?" quizzed Pentre intrigued and curious
"Your men turned on you? An ambush perhaps?" mused Pentre.
"Come knight Faloan ... bring the captive to the barracks... to the questioning and torture chamber... I have many questions to ask this bandit... and we certainly cannot afford to loose her before her rendevouz at the gallows" muttered Pentre waving the two women towards the barracks
Taff paused stiff at the hissing noises, able to sense them as loud and clear as any conversation since magic enhanced his senses.
"Grum... Grum... stop that.... we are in serious trouble... there... is... a ... creature.... lurking... a very hungry and hostile creature staring at us... I can sense it ... DO something!" urged Taff putting Grum on the ground and half cowering behind him.
And... he paused... his smiled growing wider as his eyes set upon Iskra no less... Iskra of all possible bandits. Seems, all in all, today was a good day after all.
Pentre leaned briefly against the door post, his eyes darting off at Prodius, giving the head guard instructions on how to proceed "Go... ready the gallows... I have waited for her neck long enough" smirked Pentre now turning his attentions further to the new arrival
"Well, well, well, do my eyes betray me? Iskra Sokol in flesh and bone, alive and breathing... the leader of Onyx... the second most wanted criminal in the kingdom... delivered into my hands and captive too. How did that happen?" quizzed Pentre intrigued and curious
"Your men turned on you? An ambush perhaps?" mused Pentre.
"Come knight Faloan ... bring the captive to the barracks... to the questioning and torture chamber... I have many questions to ask this bandit... and we certainly cannot afford to loose her before her rendevouz at the gallows" muttered Pentre waving the two women towards the barracks
Taff paused stiff at the hissing noises, able to sense them as loud and clear as any conversation since magic enhanced his senses.
"Grum... Grum... stop that.... we are in serious trouble... there... is... a ... creature.... lurking... a very hungry and hostile creature staring at us... I can sense it ... DO something!" urged Taff putting Grum on the ground and half cowering behind him.
Tara frowned as Iskra made it clear she noticed the knight's injury. Without a word she continued down the path with the bandit, up until they were at the door. She placed her hand on its wooden surface and glanced back toward the bandit king when she spoke a second time. Faolan nodded and pushed open the door, crossing the threshold and keeping it open for the blonde woman's subsequent entry. As soon as they were inside her eyes fell on Pentre.
While the lord made his inquiry the knight let go of the door and approached, mostly to bar the way between him and Sokol.
"My lord," She begun. "King Merthyr has ordered me to deliver her to him." Harsher words floated in the back of the warrior's mind but she let them go; it was better not to insult this man, whether or not she thought he deserved it. "I intend to do so, post haste." Then she looked back at Iskra, nodding in the direction of Merthyr's seat.
_
Grum squirmed until his feet were firmly planted on the ground; he fumed, hardly listening to what poor Taff had to say but turning in the direction of the noise regardless. "--What the...?" He saw it, those pale green eyes just as surely as he felt the cowering of the druid behind him. In his new body, however, the chieftain doubted his ability to take on such a foe. He froze for a few seconds, realizing then just how reliant he usually was on his size and brawn.
He sputtered and straightened his unfortunately small chest, determined not to chicken out regardless. "Big mistake, rot!" Grum snapped, rolling up his sleeves.
The thing shambled closer, letting out a breathy, mindless moan as its eyes fixed on the smaller of the two. As it approached it became more clear just what it was; once an older man, a bandit which towered over the chieftain growing all the more haggard with death. Despite the mold and decay which clung to its near-frozen body it continued to move.
In a last-second plan the chieftain scrambled to recover a thick, hollow branch from the ground nearby. It lunged, overextending and lurching forward as a result, well behind Grum. Branch in hand, he smote the thing, causing it to snap at the point of contact and the creature to stagger a few steps away. Then he pointed back toward the hovel and practically squeaked, "B-back to the hovel!"
While the lord made his inquiry the knight let go of the door and approached, mostly to bar the way between him and Sokol.
"My lord," She begun. "King Merthyr has ordered me to deliver her to him." Harsher words floated in the back of the warrior's mind but she let them go; it was better not to insult this man, whether or not she thought he deserved it. "I intend to do so, post haste." Then she looked back at Iskra, nodding in the direction of Merthyr's seat.
_
Grum squirmed until his feet were firmly planted on the ground; he fumed, hardly listening to what poor Taff had to say but turning in the direction of the noise regardless. "--What the...?" He saw it, those pale green eyes just as surely as he felt the cowering of the druid behind him. In his new body, however, the chieftain doubted his ability to take on such a foe. He froze for a few seconds, realizing then just how reliant he usually was on his size and brawn.
He sputtered and straightened his unfortunately small chest, determined not to chicken out regardless. "Big mistake, rot!" Grum snapped, rolling up his sleeves.
The thing shambled closer, letting out a breathy, mindless moan as its eyes fixed on the smaller of the two. As it approached it became more clear just what it was; once an older man, a bandit which towered over the chieftain growing all the more haggard with death. Despite the mold and decay which clung to its near-frozen body it continued to move.
In a last-second plan the chieftain scrambled to recover a thick, hollow branch from the ground nearby. It lunged, overextending and lurching forward as a result, well behind Grum. Branch in hand, he smote the thing, causing it to snap at the point of contact and the creature to stagger a few steps away. Then he pointed back toward the hovel and practically squeaked, "B-back to the hovel!"
The harpy’s gaze swept over the land; at this altitude she could survey the land easily. ‘So the Knight Captain was at the Onyx base, hmm…’ She looked towards the sloping mountain and turned towards it. Atoli didn’t know the exact location of the clan’s base, but it was safe to assume that if Katja escaped from there, that was the best place to start.
As she neared the base of the mountain, Atoli for the most part ignored the empty roads that lead to the mountain. If the woman hadn’t been caught by the mountain bandits yet, then it was a good chance she was off the beaten path.
Atoli sighed for a moment, the icy wind felt good on the bruise on her face that she obtained while imprisoned. ‘I could keep flying. Turn around. Go south to a warmer place…’ She thought. ‘Forget about these knights and that monster that killed those people…’
She shivered, not from the wind. She hadn’t seen the likes of such dark magic first hand before. The cell that they tossed her in had the wet acrid stench of death and fear; the sense of the spell that took hold of the barracks seemed linger there, and gave the feathery creature night terrors.
A gust of wind whipped at her face and cut through her ruffled feathers; she turned her head away to avoid the sting. As she did, a shape between the trees caught her attention. A horse and a rider. She descended as she watched them and swiftly perched on a naked tree nearby; her wings whistling as she flapped down. She chose a branch that was half-hidden from the rider. Vaguely remembering Iskra’s threat about shooting her out of the sky, and peeked from behind the tree.
“Hullo.” She said a little cautiously, eyeing the woman in case she had a bow on her. “You wouldn’t happen to be the Lady Knight Katja, would ya?”
As she neared the base of the mountain, Atoli for the most part ignored the empty roads that lead to the mountain. If the woman hadn’t been caught by the mountain bandits yet, then it was a good chance she was off the beaten path.
Atoli sighed for a moment, the icy wind felt good on the bruise on her face that she obtained while imprisoned. ‘I could keep flying. Turn around. Go south to a warmer place…’ She thought. ‘Forget about these knights and that monster that killed those people…’
She shivered, not from the wind. She hadn’t seen the likes of such dark magic first hand before. The cell that they tossed her in had the wet acrid stench of death and fear; the sense of the spell that took hold of the barracks seemed linger there, and gave the feathery creature night terrors.
A gust of wind whipped at her face and cut through her ruffled feathers; she turned her head away to avoid the sting. As she did, a shape between the trees caught her attention. A horse and a rider. She descended as she watched them and swiftly perched on a naked tree nearby; her wings whistling as she flapped down. She chose a branch that was half-hidden from the rider. Vaguely remembering Iskra’s threat about shooting her out of the sky, and peeked from behind the tree.
“Hullo.” She said a little cautiously, eyeing the woman in case she had a bow on her. “You wouldn’t happen to be the Lady Knight Katja, would ya?”
Iskra had frozen when Pentre addressed her, then her eyes narrowed. A trap, of course, why had she assumed better of these Knights? Even after sending for Katja, "I came willingly you ba--" Tara had stepped forward and Iskra shut her mouth, her gaze no kinder than the words she wished to speak. Those eyes communicated the message- had it not been for Tara, she would've already been at Pentre's throat. Which meant she most certainly had more weapons on her than what she had given Atoli.
But then Tara nodded to Merthyr, and Iskra's smile became coy, her eyes sliding to Pentre's. She walked calmly to the table which the King sat at, and in a flash she had pulled her dagger out, driving it into the table. Most would consider this as a scare tactic, but the way her eyes moved to Pentre once more- she was flaunting, teasing him even. With the protection she had been given, and the fact she obviously was needed, "Zhis is only dagger left on me," She sighed, "So I placed it here so our dearest King vould know his safety is...likely."
Her slate eyes turned to Merthyr and she gave a deep bow, shutting them for a moment, "Good day, your highness. Iskra Sokol, King of Bandit Clan Onyx, at your service." Her tone bordered on mocking but what was to be expected of the bandit? "I have already given zhat...bird-creature a dagger and pointed her in direction of Lady Katja, as vas requested. Truthfully I might feel slight guilt for allowing her to escape my grasp, I apologize for the trouble but I....don't exactly trust zhis town in caring for her vounds. I can assure you, Onyx brought no harm to your 'savior'."
Katja had just began to move when she heard the voice address her, and she turned on her horse, moving her hand to her waist; normally a sword would've been there, and judging on the fact it wasn't, this move had become instinct for her.
"That depends on... who is asking. What might you go by, harpy?" I've...never s-seen one of your kind as small as you...but I know you are... c-capable of quite a bit of damage. I'm afraid if it's g-gold or valuables you're after, there's... little to gain from robbing me. Unless you'd like the horse." Quite nonchalant for her situation, but it was obvious by the look in her eyes she was tired of fighting; between the frigid weather and the bandits that searched for her, not to mention her illness, Katja had nearly run herself right into the grave. At the very least she sure was digging the hole herself.
She tugged the reigns a bit and navigated her horse around the tree to get a better view of Atoli, nodding a bit to herself, "I've n-never seen your kind up closely. Or....I have, but it surely didn't end well. For either of us." Katja patted her knee, where she sported a scar beneath the trousers she wore; it was obvious the exhaustion was getting to her, normally the Knight was very well pulled together and proper. Right now she was just.. odd.
But then Tara nodded to Merthyr, and Iskra's smile became coy, her eyes sliding to Pentre's. She walked calmly to the table which the King sat at, and in a flash she had pulled her dagger out, driving it into the table. Most would consider this as a scare tactic, but the way her eyes moved to Pentre once more- she was flaunting, teasing him even. With the protection she had been given, and the fact she obviously was needed, "Zhis is only dagger left on me," She sighed, "So I placed it here so our dearest King vould know his safety is...likely."
Her slate eyes turned to Merthyr and she gave a deep bow, shutting them for a moment, "Good day, your highness. Iskra Sokol, King of Bandit Clan Onyx, at your service." Her tone bordered on mocking but what was to be expected of the bandit? "I have already given zhat...bird-creature a dagger and pointed her in direction of Lady Katja, as vas requested. Truthfully I might feel slight guilt for allowing her to escape my grasp, I apologize for the trouble but I....don't exactly trust zhis town in caring for her vounds. I can assure you, Onyx brought no harm to your 'savior'."
Katja had just began to move when she heard the voice address her, and she turned on her horse, moving her hand to her waist; normally a sword would've been there, and judging on the fact it wasn't, this move had become instinct for her.
"That depends on... who is asking. What might you go by, harpy?" I've...never s-seen one of your kind as small as you...but I know you are... c-capable of quite a bit of damage. I'm afraid if it's g-gold or valuables you're after, there's... little to gain from robbing me. Unless you'd like the horse." Quite nonchalant for her situation, but it was obvious by the look in her eyes she was tired of fighting; between the frigid weather and the bandits that searched for her, not to mention her illness, Katja had nearly run herself right into the grave. At the very least she sure was digging the hole herself.
She tugged the reigns a bit and navigated her horse around the tree to get a better view of Atoli, nodding a bit to herself, "I've n-never seen your kind up closely. Or....I have, but it surely didn't end well. For either of us." Katja patted her knee, where she sported a scar beneath the trousers she wore; it was obvious the exhaustion was getting to her, normally the Knight was very well pulled together and proper. Right now she was just.. odd.
When she became satisfied that the woman wasn’t a threat, Atoli perched on a branch that was lower down and easier to be seen from. She sat on her haunches comfortably; though her mouth pressed into a thin line at the mention of her size. Her green eyes narrowed as the woman continued; not displeased by the recognition that she was dangerous.
“I’m not here for your gold or your stinky horse. A few friends of hers are lookin’ for her.” She replied as she stared down at Katja; assessing. The woman looked like she was going to keel over… and the look that she saw in her eyes stopped the harpy from whatever retort she was going to give over her stature. She was without a coat as Iskra said. This had to be the one she was looking for.
“Knight Faolan sent me. She's a Lady. Tall, black hair, real knightly. We got word from the Onyx leader—I caught her by the way—” She added, “that you’d escaped her place, and that you'd probably be freezing and stubborn… And I could whack you over the head if you try to run off.” She said calmly, and dropped the cloak to the ground in front of her. It was still warm from the harpy’s heat.
“But! Faolan said not to do any of that, and I’m here ‘cause of her; So no harm will come to you... They just want you safe and back at the town. I came to find and escort.” Atoli watched Katja calmly, and brushed some snow that had caught in her feathers and hair during her flight. If the knight was keen of eye she could catch an iridescent glint of blue in the harpy’s black wings. She watched the other's face to see if her assumption was correct. Surely she was Knight Katja?
“I’m not here for your gold or your stinky horse. A few friends of hers are lookin’ for her.” She replied as she stared down at Katja; assessing. The woman looked like she was going to keel over… and the look that she saw in her eyes stopped the harpy from whatever retort she was going to give over her stature. She was without a coat as Iskra said. This had to be the one she was looking for.
“Knight Faolan sent me. She's a Lady. Tall, black hair, real knightly. We got word from the Onyx leader—I caught her by the way—” She added, “that you’d escaped her place, and that you'd probably be freezing and stubborn… And I could whack you over the head if you try to run off.” She said calmly, and dropped the cloak to the ground in front of her. It was still warm from the harpy’s heat.
“But! Faolan said not to do any of that, and I’m here ‘cause of her; So no harm will come to you... They just want you safe and back at the town. I came to find and escort.” Atoli watched Katja calmly, and brushed some snow that had caught in her feathers and hair during her flight. If the knight was keen of eye she could catch an iridescent glint of blue in the harpy’s black wings. She watched the other's face to see if her assumption was correct. Surely she was Knight Katja?
Pentre tightened his fists at the blatant move having fallen for Iskra's taunting but restrained himself from taking action just yet, wondering what the king might do with Iskra.
Merthyr looked at Iskra with a steady eye and took each of this daggers and the sword, placing the three items upon the same table "... as is your safety ensured... whilst we talk..." returned Merthyr.
Merthyr nodded in acknowledgement waving his hand for Iskra to rise up and to offer Iskra a seat.
"Iskra... I have heard your name countless times and I have seen the actions of your clan firsthand too, they cannot be understimated nor easily forgiven. My kindgom has endured the scorge of your foul deeds and wrath for too long to remember peace, so much so, you probably hold a library full of hand written death warrants that my father issued often against your name and rank and band.
Removing lady Katja from this village is akin to royal kidnap and certainly demands a death warrant, but loosing her and being unable to return her here, to safety, places this knight of the realm in grave danger of certain death, which again demands yet another death warrant... both of which lord knight Pentre, here present, is ever so dutifully keen to see executed. However, I am a merciful man and I find myself in a greater need and a more dire position than all your past crimes put together, thus, I am granting you a choice I seldom offer others of your callibre. After all, it takes a thief to catch a thief and a bandit to capture a bandit
This parchment here is your death warrant, it goes along with Sir Pentre's authority over you as a crown prisoner, it comes with his immediate intervention concerning your execution and the gallows that already await outside for your neck. This particular parchment, whilst just and fair sentencing, requires no effort from your part, my guards and knights will see to it you have little struggle and effort between this tavern and death itself which shall follow shortly.
"Now this other parchment here... is your royal pardon... it is a blanket royal pardon, not only is forgives all your past crimes but also of those who work under you and those who you name and claim at your service formally. All will be forgiven and forgotten and you shall have a fresh start.
It comes with one hundred thousand golden pieces, a quarter of the royal vaults, enough gold to buy yourself a large estate in this realm, any of your choosing, without the least restrictions or reservations..." offered Merthyr causing Pentre to gawk in disbelief at the exceeding generosity.
"However... this second parchment demands great effort from your part... you are expected to lead and rally your men, the bandits of Aftbide, Grum's desertors, who now work for me, like lady Atoli, and the royal army too, with immediate effect, in order to go and find my manservant Taff and bring him back alive, find his captor Grum the chieftain and bring him back alive, and find lady Katja and bring her back alive.... all three back alive... willingly or otherwise. Make use of force as needed to the degree you deem necessary but no permanent injuries if at all avoidable.
Accepting this royal commission places you and your men and those you summon under royal protection, they will be released from barrack and dungeons, no one shall harm you. It leaves you in charge of everyone here present too bar myself.
I am sure Sir Pentre will be more than pleased to accept your orders and serve you well, as will knight Faloan whom you are acquainted with, for you will hold the authority of the king to the fullest. Dismiss and incarcerate from my army anyone who dares question you or oppose you... do what needs be done... but find these three and find them soon, for I grow restless after many sleepless nights.
"Every day you delay, one thousand golden pieces will be removed from your reward and when there is none left to be paid out, the royal pardon will be withdrawn too if you have failed to bring the three back by then" warned Merthyr
"Also let it be known, knight Faloan will keep a close eye on you... if she suspects treason, you will be killed on the spot." cautioned Merthyr
"Now which of these two avenues will you choose, Iskra Sokol? redemption or death?" questioned Merthyr sliding both parchments at equal distance in front of her and letting Iskra decide her fate
Taff was terrified by then, hiding behind his own scrawny body
"You... you... you fight well... what is that... thing?" quizzed Taff worried there might be more like it lurking
Merthyr looked at Iskra with a steady eye and took each of this daggers and the sword, placing the three items upon the same table "... as is your safety ensured... whilst we talk..." returned Merthyr.
Merthyr nodded in acknowledgement waving his hand for Iskra to rise up and to offer Iskra a seat.
"Iskra... I have heard your name countless times and I have seen the actions of your clan firsthand too, they cannot be understimated nor easily forgiven. My kindgom has endured the scorge of your foul deeds and wrath for too long to remember peace, so much so, you probably hold a library full of hand written death warrants that my father issued often against your name and rank and band.
Removing lady Katja from this village is akin to royal kidnap and certainly demands a death warrant, but loosing her and being unable to return her here, to safety, places this knight of the realm in grave danger of certain death, which again demands yet another death warrant... both of which lord knight Pentre, here present, is ever so dutifully keen to see executed. However, I am a merciful man and I find myself in a greater need and a more dire position than all your past crimes put together, thus, I am granting you a choice I seldom offer others of your callibre. After all, it takes a thief to catch a thief and a bandit to capture a bandit
This parchment here is your death warrant, it goes along with Sir Pentre's authority over you as a crown prisoner, it comes with his immediate intervention concerning your execution and the gallows that already await outside for your neck. This particular parchment, whilst just and fair sentencing, requires no effort from your part, my guards and knights will see to it you have little struggle and effort between this tavern and death itself which shall follow shortly.
"Now this other parchment here... is your royal pardon... it is a blanket royal pardon, not only is forgives all your past crimes but also of those who work under you and those who you name and claim at your service formally. All will be forgiven and forgotten and you shall have a fresh start.
It comes with one hundred thousand golden pieces, a quarter of the royal vaults, enough gold to buy yourself a large estate in this realm, any of your choosing, without the least restrictions or reservations..." offered Merthyr causing Pentre to gawk in disbelief at the exceeding generosity.
"However... this second parchment demands great effort from your part... you are expected to lead and rally your men, the bandits of Aftbide, Grum's desertors, who now work for me, like lady Atoli, and the royal army too, with immediate effect, in order to go and find my manservant Taff and bring him back alive, find his captor Grum the chieftain and bring him back alive, and find lady Katja and bring her back alive.... all three back alive... willingly or otherwise. Make use of force as needed to the degree you deem necessary but no permanent injuries if at all avoidable.
Accepting this royal commission places you and your men and those you summon under royal protection, they will be released from barrack and dungeons, no one shall harm you. It leaves you in charge of everyone here present too bar myself.
I am sure Sir Pentre will be more than pleased to accept your orders and serve you well, as will knight Faloan whom you are acquainted with, for you will hold the authority of the king to the fullest. Dismiss and incarcerate from my army anyone who dares question you or oppose you... do what needs be done... but find these three and find them soon, for I grow restless after many sleepless nights.
"Every day you delay, one thousand golden pieces will be removed from your reward and when there is none left to be paid out, the royal pardon will be withdrawn too if you have failed to bring the three back by then" warned Merthyr
"Also let it be known, knight Faloan will keep a close eye on you... if she suspects treason, you will be killed on the spot." cautioned Merthyr
"Now which of these two avenues will you choose, Iskra Sokol? redemption or death?" questioned Merthyr sliding both parchments at equal distance in front of her and letting Iskra decide her fate
Taff was terrified by then, hiding behind his own scrawny body
"You... you... you fight well... what is that... thing?" quizzed Taff worried there might be more like it lurking
Grum turned back to Taff, then to the thing, then to Taff again. "Wh-- I don't... I don't know! Wait--" He leaned in as the thing struggled slowly to rise from the ground. The chieftain squinted his eyes and then, upon finding something in that mess of rot and dead flesh, drew back from it. "Th-that's Thorben! One of my own! Wh-what has..." He took a step away. "Gods..." His face went pale, then flushed with anger. "Those... those SWINE!"
He turned back to Taff and reached up, grabbing the servant by his arm. "Forget this! We have to return! Return to Aftbide right now or we will never have peace!"
Thorben managed to stand once more, approaching them with the same slow, determined shamble. He was nearly upon them when an arrow whizzed by Taff and Grum, landing in the unliving bandit's eye. He croaked and crumpled to the floor, leg twitching.
The woman from before lowered her bow, staring down at the two quizzically. Her bear lingered not far behind, still panting with weariness. An unnatural howl from further into the woods drew her attention for a moment before she patted the bear's crown and started to hesitantly walk north, to whence Taff and Grum came. The creature predictably followed at her heels.
_
Iskra's taunt drew the eyes of every patron in the bar; music strummed by a drowsy minstrel stopped midway as the villagers and soldiers measured whether the bandit king was an immediate threat. Otso, who had been retrieving some more food from the back, stepped in hurriedly to see what the commotion was. He cast about, soon looking at her and the king while Merthyr begun to negotiate. With a frown the tavern owner shuffled across the room to deliver the food.
Tara passed Pentre and stood near the two, watching them closely.
He turned back to Taff and reached up, grabbing the servant by his arm. "Forget this! We have to return! Return to Aftbide right now or we will never have peace!"
Thorben managed to stand once more, approaching them with the same slow, determined shamble. He was nearly upon them when an arrow whizzed by Taff and Grum, landing in the unliving bandit's eye. He croaked and crumpled to the floor, leg twitching.
The woman from before lowered her bow, staring down at the two quizzically. Her bear lingered not far behind, still panting with weariness. An unnatural howl from further into the woods drew her attention for a moment before she patted the bear's crown and started to hesitantly walk north, to whence Taff and Grum came. The creature predictably followed at her heels.
_
Iskra's taunt drew the eyes of every patron in the bar; music strummed by a drowsy minstrel stopped midway as the villagers and soldiers measured whether the bandit king was an immediate threat. Otso, who had been retrieving some more food from the back, stepped in hurriedly to see what the commotion was. He cast about, soon looking at her and the king while Merthyr begun to negotiate. With a frown the tavern owner shuffled across the room to deliver the food.
Tara passed Pentre and stood near the two, watching them closely.
Taff watched the skinny arm wrap itself around his muscular one and patted Grum gently
"I could not agree more... chieftain. Go on, let us hurry along and get back to Aftbide quickly... I must inform the king of these undead army rising" urged Taff looking back horrified
"I can't give you your body back, though, at least not for now... I am far too stressed to concentrate... you will have to make do with the body you borrowed... just... lead the way, I am entirely lost in these forests. I mean, I grew up in the castle ever since my parents were burnt at stake for withcraft, I have no idea how to get back to Aftbide." admitted Taff his large muscular arm gripping Grum's scrawny one.
"Without meaning offense but... this ... this is what happens when untrained accolites like you dabble with the powerful forces of the dark magic they neither control nor understand... when you summoned that wraith, it cursed you... such enchantments demand a life for a life, it always comes with a hefty price unless you know what you are doing... or happen to be a warlock of my stature. Of course in this body... there is not much I can do on the matter... I need my own body back first.
I honestly don't know what were you thinking, you had the king in your grasp, a healthy ransom offered, you should have just bartered with Merthyr and taken the reward. Now we are both poor as rats, cold, starving, exhausted, with less possessions or shelter than wandering homeless, hunted down like wild rabbits by the powers of darkness who seek their due, no doubt hunted as fugitives by the royal army and by those enemies of yours... Onyx clan... bet they too want a piece of you" muttered Taff bothered at the overall situation
"You should be reasonable for once... Take me back to Aftbide, beg clemency and I will see to it that you walk away with a small sum for your troubles and your head over your shoulders alive and breathing... if your men don't catch us first... of course... if we are unlucky enough to stumble into your group and they force us to stay then we would be in trouble because I could not possibly act anything like you do... we are much too different.." muttered Taff rubbing the back of the neck uncomfortably
"Your clan is nowhere near these parts of the forest right? I mean, chances we stumble into them and their lairs aren't that big right?" quizzed Taff concerned not having enjoyed Onyx and certainly not looking forward to Grum's counterpart either
"I could not agree more... chieftain. Go on, let us hurry along and get back to Aftbide quickly... I must inform the king of these undead army rising" urged Taff looking back horrified
"I can't give you your body back, though, at least not for now... I am far too stressed to concentrate... you will have to make do with the body you borrowed... just... lead the way, I am entirely lost in these forests. I mean, I grew up in the castle ever since my parents were burnt at stake for withcraft, I have no idea how to get back to Aftbide." admitted Taff his large muscular arm gripping Grum's scrawny one.
"Without meaning offense but... this ... this is what happens when untrained accolites like you dabble with the powerful forces of the dark magic they neither control nor understand... when you summoned that wraith, it cursed you... such enchantments demand a life for a life, it always comes with a hefty price unless you know what you are doing... or happen to be a warlock of my stature. Of course in this body... there is not much I can do on the matter... I need my own body back first.
I honestly don't know what were you thinking, you had the king in your grasp, a healthy ransom offered, you should have just bartered with Merthyr and taken the reward. Now we are both poor as rats, cold, starving, exhausted, with less possessions or shelter than wandering homeless, hunted down like wild rabbits by the powers of darkness who seek their due, no doubt hunted as fugitives by the royal army and by those enemies of yours... Onyx clan... bet they too want a piece of you" muttered Taff bothered at the overall situation
"You should be reasonable for once... Take me back to Aftbide, beg clemency and I will see to it that you walk away with a small sum for your troubles and your head over your shoulders alive and breathing... if your men don't catch us first... of course... if we are unlucky enough to stumble into your group and they force us to stay then we would be in trouble because I could not possibly act anything like you do... we are much too different.." muttered Taff rubbing the back of the neck uncomfortably
"Your clan is nowhere near these parts of the forest right? I mean, chances we stumble into them and their lairs aren't that big right?" quizzed Taff concerned not having enjoyed Onyx and certainly not looking forward to Grum's counterpart either
The Hybrid nodded, gladdened that Kerik had snatched onto their plan. The eyes lighting up in appreciation if just for a second, fading so fast to the normal shade that even the being wasn't sure it'd happened. The hands clasped together in excitement, "Oh how!"
A pause. The jaw moved slightly, working through the phrases, searching for the right one. The brow furrowed, kitting together in concentration. Words tumbled out in a foreign language, harsh, fast, yet hiding a tone of beauty in the words. With a jarring halt, the language swapped, returning back to the native tongue. Broken, slower and hiding none of that hidden beauty the otherworldly language had. "How does the phrase go?"
Another pause. "Excitement? Wonder? OH! Wonderful!" The statement repeated itself, this time more conjoined and flowing, pride running through every word. "Oh, how wonderful! This means tha."
The jarring halt came once more, without hint nor warning. Evidently, the foreigner had been attempting a more complicated and longer phrase, courage failing them before the end.
---
In the hills, the dead walked, or at the very least made movements that one could call walking, if that person was highly drunk and given enough time. More accurately they solidified, the skin hardening, greying, cracking. In some places, it was becoming chitinous, random patches of flaking flesh solidifying into insect-like carapaces.
The mutilation of the body did not stop there, instead, it merely continued, rising to a crescendo as the bones began to twist. Biding their time, growing, building tension like a taut spring, all until the finale. Crashing forth through the skin came spikes of ossein, some through shoulders, others through hands, all parting flesh, leaving the strands to knit back to the new skeletal structure.
For all the chaos there was a strange sense of order to the tiny encampment. Those who had undergone the full process now stood watchfully at the edge, for the few who had not, these huddled in the center. All awaiting instructions from their master.
A pause. The jaw moved slightly, working through the phrases, searching for the right one. The brow furrowed, kitting together in concentration. Words tumbled out in a foreign language, harsh, fast, yet hiding a tone of beauty in the words. With a jarring halt, the language swapped, returning back to the native tongue. Broken, slower and hiding none of that hidden beauty the otherworldly language had. "How does the phrase go?"
Another pause. "Excitement? Wonder? OH! Wonderful!" The statement repeated itself, this time more conjoined and flowing, pride running through every word. "Oh, how wonderful! This means tha."
The jarring halt came once more, without hint nor warning. Evidently, the foreigner had been attempting a more complicated and longer phrase, courage failing them before the end.
---
In the hills, the dead walked, or at the very least made movements that one could call walking, if that person was highly drunk and given enough time. More accurately they solidified, the skin hardening, greying, cracking. In some places, it was becoming chitinous, random patches of flaking flesh solidifying into insect-like carapaces.
The mutilation of the body did not stop there, instead, it merely continued, rising to a crescendo as the bones began to twist. Biding their time, growing, building tension like a taut spring, all until the finale. Crashing forth through the skin came spikes of ossein, some through shoulders, others through hands, all parting flesh, leaving the strands to knit back to the new skeletal structure.
For all the chaos there was a strange sense of order to the tiny encampment. Those who had undergone the full process now stood watchfully at the edge, for the few who had not, these huddled in the center. All awaiting instructions from their master.
Iskra had a sort of pride in her work. Twisted, yes, but he wasn’t wrong saying she had a library full of her wanted posters. It was almost like a game among the bandits, whoever brought in a new poster received quite a bit of gold to themselves, and it was probably the most lighthearted thing they would do, besides for over drinking frequently. And she was especially proud of the fact she did better than her late husband ever could.
Her face was pretty passive, until Merthyr mentioned the gold; more specifically, until he mentioned the ability to purchase land. Her eyes widened a bit, and the look on her face was not that of a greedy Bandit King, but for once of a woman, stunned to silence. Though it was unreadable in her expression, she thought, just for a moment, on her late husband, what she endured before his death, and why he did it. But the expression vanished quickly and returned to her plain, uninterested expression.
“I vill accept your task...on few conditions. I want zhis pardon to last only for time I am here, helping you. Truthfully I retain quite a bit of pride in my work, and I rather enjoy this fun game of cat and mouse I have with Pentre.” She smirked, “I would refuse but the idea of having him under my command is far too rare to pass up. If we can agree to that, and once my task is completed I will have a day to pack my things and leave this town, then I will gladly take on this job, at least for now.”
—————
“Well, I do admit that I am Lady Katja,” she slid carefully down from her horse, picking the cloak up and inspecting it before securing it around her shoulders, “But I’m afraid I can’t come with y-you. You can feel it too, yes?”
The woman climbed back up the saddle, her eyes focusing for a moment on the gleam; yes, she knew what that was, and the look that crossed her face was more of pity than anything. Still, she turned her head towards the mountains, “Something foul. Whatever that damned beast released...it hasn’t left us just yet. I don’t know why I can sense it...call it instinct? But something isn’t right here. I must find the source.”
Iskra hadn’t been playing when she said Katja was stubborn. Obviously sick and injured most likely, she still insisted on working. Her honor was what drove her, be it forward to glory or into her grave.
Her face was pretty passive, until Merthyr mentioned the gold; more specifically, until he mentioned the ability to purchase land. Her eyes widened a bit, and the look on her face was not that of a greedy Bandit King, but for once of a woman, stunned to silence. Though it was unreadable in her expression, she thought, just for a moment, on her late husband, what she endured before his death, and why he did it. But the expression vanished quickly and returned to her plain, uninterested expression.
“I vill accept your task...on few conditions. I want zhis pardon to last only for time I am here, helping you. Truthfully I retain quite a bit of pride in my work, and I rather enjoy this fun game of cat and mouse I have with Pentre.” She smirked, “I would refuse but the idea of having him under my command is far too rare to pass up. If we can agree to that, and once my task is completed I will have a day to pack my things and leave this town, then I will gladly take on this job, at least for now.”
—————
“Well, I do admit that I am Lady Katja,” she slid carefully down from her horse, picking the cloak up and inspecting it before securing it around her shoulders, “But I’m afraid I can’t come with y-you. You can feel it too, yes?”
The woman climbed back up the saddle, her eyes focusing for a moment on the gleam; yes, she knew what that was, and the look that crossed her face was more of pity than anything. Still, she turned her head towards the mountains, “Something foul. Whatever that damned beast released...it hasn’t left us just yet. I don’t know why I can sense it...call it instinct? But something isn’t right here. I must find the source.”
Iskra hadn’t been playing when she said Katja was stubborn. Obviously sick and injured most likely, she still insisted on working. Her honor was what drove her, be it forward to glory or into her grave.
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