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MorphineMonkey
Planetoid
- Joined
- Apr 16, 2010
"Look, I'm not telling you this again. You mess this up, and I'll personally cut you into scraps and leave your carcass to the Trogs."
The young man nodded as he stored the Captain's orders. He'd bundled the last three jobs, and this one was gonna set them straight. He had no illusions that the family bond that was between him and the Captain of the Slups gang would save him if he blew this robbery. He moved through the forest as quietly as he could. He wasn't hunting any creatures of the forest, but the carriages that traveled down the dirt path to the Kingdom.
There it was. The carriage he'd been waiting for. The crimson carriage carried the golden seal of the Thronarl King. The coach wasn't in any hurry, which let him sneak up behind the passengers with ease. He took an arrow from his quiver and tied a white flag to the shaft before jamming it on the side of the coach. When he was sure that the arrow was in place he fell away, rolling to avoid taking to much damage.
"Look alive boys. Seems like my nephew was able to do his job right this time." The Captain climbed further up in the tree that hung over the road. He could see the bright white flag against the muddy brown road like a fire in the darkness. He pulled out a small flask from his waist pouch and poured the liquids onto the cloth wrapped arrowhead. He waited until the carriage was closer before taking out the flint and steel, lighting the arrowhead. He drew down on the driver, "When I fire, I want you to pin that fat fucker's head to the coach," he whispered. He barely let the notched arrow fly when another from one of his Lieutenants. His arrow went through the small window in the front, his Lieutenant's arrowhead embedded itself in the front of the carriage, through the driver's neck.
================================================
"Man, it'd be a lot easier if the Temple would have at least allowed me to use one of those Running Monks." Thorin sighed as he stepped over a fallen log in the path. Most of the log had been cleared away; the middle section cut out of the tree so that a carriage could get by easily. The Temple, as he'd called it, had been his home since he could remember. It was a safe-haven for people like him. The outcasts of society. Thorin wasn't accepted by many of people outside of the Temple. His Elven heritage made it almost impossible for humans to approach him without feeling intimidated. He didn't scare them the way that the Half-Orcs he knew did. Thorin just seemed more unapproachable. And the Elven community saw him as something just shy as a taboo. It was rare enough for Elves to have kids with each other, and even rarer for them to breed with humans.
Thorin readjusted the pack on his back. Inside it contained the basics of what he might need. A spare change of clothes for when he got to a city, dried meats and nuts for food, and a bedroll that was attached to the bottom of it. Out of boredom he used the end of the quarterstaff to flick a small rock out of his path. Up ahead was a tree that fell across the road. The middle of it was cut out, leaving just enough room for a wagon to go through, although only one at a time.
Thorin could hear the sounds of something up ahead. Shouting, screaming, and even the metallic clashing of swords. Slipping his pack off his shoulders he hid it in the trees.
"Loose something?"
Thorin slowly put his hands up when the saw the sword tip slide over his shoulder. "N-not particularly. I was just thinking about taking a small nap in the shade here." Thorin was careful not to cut himself on the blade against his neck. In the middle of the man's sentence he lunged forward, lowering his head to the pack. His feet shot out behind him, catching the armored man in the chest. The blow wasn't enough to knock him down, but it did allow him time to get out of the sword's range. "But why don't you go first?" Thorin flipped over his pack, grabbing his quarterstaff in the process. Before his assailant could react Thorin whirled the staff over his head, extending his reach. A dull, bell-like, ring reverberated up his arm as the end of the staff connected with the helmet.
=============================================
The Captain was the first one to reach the carriage. He jumped up in the driver's sear, and with a single swipe, severed the leather bonds holding the horses to the carriage. The horses weren't his priority, they were the problems of the henchmen he'd stationed further down the road. The rest of his men swarmed the carriage. Spears penetrated the driver's dead body, pulling him down. Two of the King's own men exited the carriage, but they too quickly fell to his men's swords. He swung the carriage door open before it had a chance to be locked. He pointed his sword at the women inside. "Good afternoon ladies," with a wicked grin he pulled them out one by one.
The young man nodded as he stored the Captain's orders. He'd bundled the last three jobs, and this one was gonna set them straight. He had no illusions that the family bond that was between him and the Captain of the Slups gang would save him if he blew this robbery. He moved through the forest as quietly as he could. He wasn't hunting any creatures of the forest, but the carriages that traveled down the dirt path to the Kingdom.
There it was. The carriage he'd been waiting for. The crimson carriage carried the golden seal of the Thronarl King. The coach wasn't in any hurry, which let him sneak up behind the passengers with ease. He took an arrow from his quiver and tied a white flag to the shaft before jamming it on the side of the coach. When he was sure that the arrow was in place he fell away, rolling to avoid taking to much damage.
"Look alive boys. Seems like my nephew was able to do his job right this time." The Captain climbed further up in the tree that hung over the road. He could see the bright white flag against the muddy brown road like a fire in the darkness. He pulled out a small flask from his waist pouch and poured the liquids onto the cloth wrapped arrowhead. He waited until the carriage was closer before taking out the flint and steel, lighting the arrowhead. He drew down on the driver, "When I fire, I want you to pin that fat fucker's head to the coach," he whispered. He barely let the notched arrow fly when another from one of his Lieutenants. His arrow went through the small window in the front, his Lieutenant's arrowhead embedded itself in the front of the carriage, through the driver's neck.
================================================
"Man, it'd be a lot easier if the Temple would have at least allowed me to use one of those Running Monks." Thorin sighed as he stepped over a fallen log in the path. Most of the log had been cleared away; the middle section cut out of the tree so that a carriage could get by easily. The Temple, as he'd called it, had been his home since he could remember. It was a safe-haven for people like him. The outcasts of society. Thorin wasn't accepted by many of people outside of the Temple. His Elven heritage made it almost impossible for humans to approach him without feeling intimidated. He didn't scare them the way that the Half-Orcs he knew did. Thorin just seemed more unapproachable. And the Elven community saw him as something just shy as a taboo. It was rare enough for Elves to have kids with each other, and even rarer for them to breed with humans.
Thorin readjusted the pack on his back. Inside it contained the basics of what he might need. A spare change of clothes for when he got to a city, dried meats and nuts for food, and a bedroll that was attached to the bottom of it. Out of boredom he used the end of the quarterstaff to flick a small rock out of his path. Up ahead was a tree that fell across the road. The middle of it was cut out, leaving just enough room for a wagon to go through, although only one at a time.
Thorin could hear the sounds of something up ahead. Shouting, screaming, and even the metallic clashing of swords. Slipping his pack off his shoulders he hid it in the trees.
"Loose something?"
Thorin slowly put his hands up when the saw the sword tip slide over his shoulder. "N-not particularly. I was just thinking about taking a small nap in the shade here." Thorin was careful not to cut himself on the blade against his neck. In the middle of the man's sentence he lunged forward, lowering his head to the pack. His feet shot out behind him, catching the armored man in the chest. The blow wasn't enough to knock him down, but it did allow him time to get out of the sword's range. "But why don't you go first?" Thorin flipped over his pack, grabbing his quarterstaff in the process. Before his assailant could react Thorin whirled the staff over his head, extending his reach. A dull, bell-like, ring reverberated up his arm as the end of the staff connected with the helmet.
=============================================
The Captain was the first one to reach the carriage. He jumped up in the driver's sear, and with a single swipe, severed the leather bonds holding the horses to the carriage. The horses weren't his priority, they were the problems of the henchmen he'd stationed further down the road. The rest of his men swarmed the carriage. Spears penetrated the driver's dead body, pulling him down. Two of the King's own men exited the carriage, but they too quickly fell to his men's swords. He swung the carriage door open before it had a chance to be locked. He pointed his sword at the women inside. "Good afternoon ladies," with a wicked grin he pulled them out one by one.
