Elendor
Wulf hunting
Bear Ceann Brodie leads his men on a Wulf hunt. Hunters and hunted alike pay a bloody toll
Sort Date: no date set
Location: Highlands - Dunland, Redvyrne County
Game Date: 1 of August in the year 3045
IC Time: Evening
Description: Highlands - Dunland <>
The highlands slope down into a huge valley, containing the steel gray surface of a large lake. The water's surface is completely flat, mirroring the thin line of trees by its shores. Beyond the lake, mountains jut upwards, their sides rocky and containing numerous small crevices, some leading into caves rich with gems. Clouds drift quietly through the valley, leaving it both cool and strangely silent.
A rustic house stands proudly within a small clearing, protected by a ring of tall oaks. The house itself is small but quaint. Here and there, the signs of a recent fire can be distinguished, the wood blacked to ash in parts, the nearby brush small and new, struggling to survive on still ash stained ground. On the rolling hills beyond, a small herd grazes peacefully on the wild grass. All around you a symphony of nature's best puts on a peaceful performance, the ancient oaks whispering words of wisdom to those that would hear.
Obvious exits:
East leads to Highlands - Dunland <>.
===============================================================================
Dunland Time and Weather Forecast
===============================================================================
Real Time is: Mon Dec 01 23:39:25 2008 IC weather is:
Wind: - Clouds: dense - Rain: moderate IC Moon is: Waxing
crescent IC time is: Early Morning IC date
is: Trewsday, Day 1 of August in the year 3045.
===============================================================================
[Brodie(#15443)]
The Wulf Hunt that began a few days ago with news revealed from Dark Curls of a Wulf uprising is about to enter into the climactic stage. The sun is about to set and soon, the world will be shrouded in a veil of gray, then black.
Brodie calls a halt to the march of about a dozen men to eye the farmstead ahead. The surrounding is peaceful, tranquil, and quiet. A vague smell of dinner wafts through the wind.
"Ceann Brodie.. this ain't anywhere near the Faol place," one of his men asks unsurely.
The new Chieftain of the Bear sneers through his bush of beard. "I know." He reaches over to grab a jug of whiskey from someone's hands.
[Carac(#32384)] Above the farmstead on the whispery evening wind a crebain flies.
'Dark Curls' has been making himself useful. Now he obligingly hands up a jug of whisky, turning to survey the peaceful steading. "Nice sheep they have," he remarks neutrally, eying the pasturelands. "Healthy looking."
[Cecilia(#23897)] A young woman steps out of the house carrying a bucket from within. She has long brown hair that's pinned up, curls hanging down around her face. Her long dress swishes around her slender frame as she hauls the pail over to where a dog is tied up, dumping what must be scraps out for the animal.
[Brodie(#15443)]
At least a couple of the men crane their necks to get a better view of the woman. As she bends at the waist to feed the dog, they stroke their beards and lick their lips as if deciding that there is something more interesting than sheep here, after all.
Brodie uncorks the jug with his teeth. Luckily, someone was thoughtful enough to tie the cork to the mouth of the jug with a bit of string. It is to Dark Curls that he responds. "Better tell me your name now. If I find out you've been lying, you won't be able to tell me without a tongue."
They continue their slow and steady approach, not caring in the least whether the woman notices.
'Dark Curls' turns his attention back to Brodie. "Told you what I'd heard," he responds. "I'd helped repair a brewhouse, and this Wulf fellow had had enough to be talking freely. Ale loosens the tongue for some men, you know." He smirks as though he were free of such affliction. "I'm from the Telartairs," he adds in passing by way of identification, but then frowns. "Can't imagine even a Wulf would be foolhardy to amass an army /here/. Nowhere to hide. Shouldn't we be looking somewhere else?" He waves an arm vaguely south, towards the Wulf clan heartlands
[Carac(#32384)] Several boys, none over 11 summers, move about the farmstead handling the various chores. In other places old, weathered men well into the winter of their years watch the boys, occasionally giving orders or glancing towards the sky and complaining about the lack of rain.
[Cecilia(#23897)] The young woman never notices strangers approaching, but the dog she just fed the scraps to catches wind of the intruders. The mutt jumps up to it's feet and begins barking ferociously with quite a bit of noise. The girl, perhaps seventeen or so turns to look at what upset Spot so badly and her eyes widen to the size of saucers. "Raiders!!" She shrieks and runs for a nearby shed.
[Brodie(#15443)]
The other men seem to agree with Dark Curl's suggestion, though none voice it quite so openly as he.
"Shut your mouths. That's why I'm the Chieftain and you'll forever be fighting for scraps." Brodie threatens, but there is a gleam in his eye that seems to pierce the spreading darkness. He continues his march with his twelve men, though he maintains his casual banter with Dark Curls.
"Telartair is a good name," Brodie nods to himself. "Too bad it is wasted on you."
When the girl shrieks, Brodie calmly removes the battle axe from his back. "But I will give you a chance to prove your worth."
He inhales deep, and gripping his weapon, he shouts. "Time to catch us some dogs!"
And charges.
A fleeting look of relief crosses the features of 'Dark Curls' at the woman's shriek, though it is quickly masked. He focuses anew on Brodie, and at the shouted instruction he draws his own knife from his sheath. He lags behind the Chieftain, however, and soon a stumble over a rock halts his charge. Cursing, he rises to one knee.
[Carac(#32384)] The cry from the woman cause the boys to turn, some bravely grab pitchforks and sharpened hoes to defend their home and people.
"NO!" comes a cry from one of the old men. "Run you fools!" he cries towards those brave young souls. "Get out of here!"
The other old men make similar demands to those inside the farm house. Women and other children begin to slowly trickle out, staring in astonishment and fright towards the charging Bear warriors. "RUN!" cry the old men once again.
The old ones then begin to form a line of sorts, hoping to buy the others time to flee with their lives.
[Cecilia(#23897)] Molly disappears into the darkness of the shed while Spot continues growling and barking, the dog scratching at the dirt as he pulls in vain at the end of his leash. It's not long at all before the girl appears again wielding an axe meant for chopping wood. She swings it down at the leash and cleanly cuts the rope, sending Spot racing towards the charging Bears with teeth bared and snapping for enemy flesh.
Molly holds the axe then, torn with indecision as she feels the urge to flee battling with the need to defend her home. Fear weighs in stronger and the girl begins running away, still holding the weapon tightly.
[Brodie(#15443)]
A firm hand would rest upon the shoulder of Telartair, then the hand curls to trap the material of the boy's shirt in his fist. This is followed by a mouth that leans close into the dark curls, and he speaks with breath reeking of whiskey. "Oh no you don't. Ceann warned me you may try and escape. Now get up and go catch a wolf! I am watching you!"
"Kill those ancients. Catch the ones that can actually work!" Brodie shouts.
The hunters of the Bear release arrows into the line while the swift footed warriors chase the women and children.
Then catching sight of Molly, Brodie cleaves his way towards her.
[Carac(#32384)] The old men are cut down quickly while the women and children flee in all directions in an attempt to escape. Their screams and cries for help carrying over the open pasturelands as they scurry about.
'Dark curls' twists free of that prisoning grip and turns round to glare at the man, his fist clenched. "Came here to spit sheep, not bairns," he hisses, scowling. He pushes himself back to his feet and dutifully limps forward, still favouring that left leg. As a hoe-head comes swinging toward him he ducks, for its owner is still well out of knife-reach. Warily he watches the snapping dog out of the corner of his eye.
[Cecilia(#23897)] Spot sends dirt flying with how quickly he tears across the yard, but it only takes one well-aimed arrow to bury itself into the dog's flank to end his rush. The dog yipes loudly in a high-pitched sound of pain, crumpling to the ground in a rolling cloud of dust. The mutt struggles to rise again, but the arrow cut deep and the animal ceases moving moments later. Does Kiern favor dogs that die valiently?
Molly is moving slowly, her dress tangling around her knees and hampering her progress. She's shrieking for the others to run faster and looks back frequently with a face that's the visage of terror. When Brodie is nearly upon her, Molly bravely turns to face him, clumsily swinging the axe in a wild arc. "Be gone from here!!"
[Brodie(#15443)]
It does not take long to capture this small farmstead obviously devoid of able bodied men. The air is soon filled with the pained screaming and groaning of the elderly maimed men and women.
Vicious and brutal are they, these twelve men hand picked by Brodie - not including Dark Curls - seem to take joy in cutting down opponents weaker than they. And the most vicious of all, Brodie himself, now stands in front of Molly, catching the swinging axe by the handle with his palm. He then pulls it and the girl, jerking them both towards him.
"Bring Telartair here!"
'Dark curls' seems to be doing a little better now, having wrested the hoe away from its owner - swung in a wide arc, it clears anything in his path. And if its main effect is to cause those menaced to flee, what of that? At Brodie's shout he pauses to look up sullenly, keen eyes gauging the distance to, the Bear archers still with arrows to spare ... Then, "What is it?" His knife-blade is red now, though none would be able to recollect when they saw him draw blood.
[Cecilia(#23897)] Molly is drug towards the large, frightening man, smacking right into his chest. She immediately tries to push away to flee in the opposite direction, but Brodie's grip is too strong and her feeble attempts to pull away prove useless. "Let me go!! My family!!" The girl cries, swinging her fist at Brodie's arm ineffectually.
[Brodie(#15443)]
With the spirited Molly in his iron grip, Brodie turns to face Dark Curls. Roughly, he spins his captive around so that her back is pressed against his front, with the axe handle held tightly across her throat. That gleam in his eye has become very unpleasant as he smiles.
"Ask her where the men of Wulf are gathering to build this army that you spoke of. Make her speak the truth and I shall let you keep your tongue."
[Carac(#32384)] "I guess I was wrong Gariag," comes a voice from the west. "Wasn't dung I smelt, was Bears."
The old Hawk archer steps over the rise and looks over the farmstead spread before him. His bow is drawn and the arrow aimed directly for the Bear Ceann, four more archers step behind him the strings of their bows pulled back to their ear and the deadly shafts within also aimed for the Bear Ceann.
"Turn your smelly Bear asses around and head back to your hovels in Caerdh," Garaig calls towards them, as another score of men move up to stand behind him and the archers.
"If you aren't moving by the time I reach five," he nods towards Brodie. "The big one is gonna begin sproutin' arrows." He spits out the corner of his mouth while keeping the head of his arrow trained on Brodie.
"One."
'Dark Curls' scowls. "Very well," he answers curtly, though his features are unwontedly pale. The red-bladed knife lifts and its point rests lightly between the girl's breasts. "Speak, wench. Tell the Ceann what he wants to know, or I'll decide which you start losing. A finger," he gestures, "a nose," he squints at her thoughtfully, raising the knife-blade to her face, "or maybe an eye?" The blade lifts a little further, then hovers. Perhaps he does not hear the Hawk's words, perhaps what happens next is merely a reflex action. The blade jerks suddenly up and sideways, its target not Molly's beautiful eyes but Brodie's chin and throat.
[Cecilia(#23897)] Molly gives a little squeak as Brodie twists her around and presses the axe handle against her throat. Reflexively her hands reach up to try and pry it away and free herself, but it is to little avail. The young woman has tears in her eyes that are on the verge of flowing free.
She begins trembling when the bloodied knife is waved around by the man in front of her. Almost immediately she begins babbling, trying to save her skin, "Eleska called all the men to arms.. said there was trouble! My .. my boyfriend from another fian, told me of the Bear Clan, said they were up to no good! He went to warn them to build an army and said we would be safe h-Ahh!!!" The girl cuts off with another shriek as the knife blade flashes in. The archers? The least of her concern.
[Brodie(#15443)]
Everything happens in the blink of an eye.
The girl revealing secrets. The bloodied knife going for Brodie's throat. The surprise arrival of the archers causing Brodie to jerk his face. The knife shaving off a patch of the Chieftain's beard instead of slicing his throat.
The sadistic gleam in Brodie's eyes turns into a fiery rage, giving Dark Curls a look that could kill. But unlike Molly, his concern /is/ the archers. Brodie keeps his voice from exploding, as he calmly answers.
"This ain't your fight, Gariag. This is Fian Eliska's land. Eliska called her army to kill your precious son of I'racil and his rebellion. You should be thanking me."
[Carac(#32384)] "Just like you, Brodie," Gariag replies. "Always wanting to run your Kiern damned mouth when it's time to fight." He wrinkles his brow in an imitation of deep thought. "What number was I on? Aww Kiern balls," he growls.
"5."
The strings thrum and five arrows fly towards the Ceann. With a smooth motion the archers quickly replace their arrows and their strings are drawn once more.
[Cecilia(#23897)] The stress is simply too much for poor Molly. The arrows streak at them and she screams, and then rather abruptly the trembling mass that Brodie is holding passes out. Does she get impaled? It all depends on what her captor does.
'Dark curls' does not waste time on curses, nor even in wondering why he is still alive - what of the Ceann's loyal men now? As the girl sags in Brodie's grip, he swings the knife again, perhaps hoping that the lack of facial hair will give him clearer aim. "Put her down."
[Brodie(#15443)]
Brodie is not above using a woman - a fainted woman -- as his shield. At least 3 arrows find its mark on the poor girl, but the other two sinks into the big target. He lets out a guttural cry, and he staggers. Two arrows and dagger wound to the throat is something that not even the great Brodie can withstand. With his men just standing idly by watching him get slain, he collapses to the ground.
The last thing he hears is Banedil's words echoing in his mind
What would ya prefer? Men who would be willing to stand at yer side, willing to die with ya? Or always watching over yer shoulder at these people ya scaring. Always not sure if ya might be slippin', ya feelin' like they are out to get ya. Because they will. All of em."
[Carac(#32384)] "Rest of you get the scrog out of here," Gariag curses as the archers take aim on other members of the Bear contigent. "You're not even gettin a Kiern damned count, move your scroggin' arses now!" he bellows.
An arrow slices past Brev's cheek, drawing blood, and he flinches, the knife going wide. So intent has he been on his target that he has failed to appreciate the danger posed by the archers. Now, as Brodie indeed drops the girl, he curses, and reaches out to pull her away from the fallen man to see whether she lives or no. His leather-clad back remains entirely unprotected.
[Brodie(#15443)]
"You'll pay for this, Gariag, you old hag. That's two Chieftains of the Bear Clan you've slain, all in the name of .. whatever you call it."
The whiskey breath glances at Brev's open back, and true to form, he does indeed take a cheap shot in the form of a swift boot. "We all know your face. You're a dead man."
They collect their fallen leader -- eyeing his gear more than his wounds -- and leave.
[Carac(#32384)] Gariag and the other archers keep their arrows upon the Bear as they depart. "If I have to pay back every man who's told me I'd pay, I'll need be granted four lifetimes," Gariag says to the departing warriors. "Go see if any of the wounded can be saved," he growls towards the men at his back.
Brev is sent sprawling by the force of the kick - fortunately he manages to keep his knife-hand clear. Grunting, he rolls over and up again, and stares after the departing Bear then looks down at the fallen girl, and focuses on the task in hand, clinging to the slim chance that perhaps, just perhaps, one life can be saved. Under his breath he mutters a stream of curses. All in all, not the best of endings to a long day.
The highlands slope down into a huge valley, containing the steel gray surface of a large lake. The water's surface is completely flat, mirroring the thin line of trees by its shores. Beyond the lake, mountains jut upwards, their sides rocky and containing numerous small crevices, some leading into caves rich with gems. Clouds drift quietly through the valley, leaving it both cool and strangely silent.
A rustic house stands proudly within a small clearing, protected by a ring of tall oaks. The house itself is small but quaint. Here and there, the signs of a recent fire can be distinguished, the wood blacked to ash in parts, the nearby brush small and new, struggling to survive on still ash stained ground. On the rolling hills beyond, a small herd grazes peacefully on the wild grass. All around you a symphony of nature's best puts on a peaceful performance, the ancient oaks whispering words of wisdom to those that would hear.
Obvious exits:
East leads to Highlands - Dunland <
===============================================================================
Dunland Time and Weather Forecast
===============================================================================
Real Time is: Mon Dec 01 23:39:25 2008 IC weather is:
Wind: - Clouds: dense - Rain: moderate IC Moon is: Waxing
crescent IC time is: Early Morning
is: Trewsday, Day 1 of August in the year 3045.
===============================================================================
[Brodie(#15443)]
The Wulf Hunt that began a few days ago with news revealed from Dark Curls of a Wulf uprising is about to enter into the climactic stage. The sun is about to set and soon, the world will be shrouded in a veil of gray, then black.
Brodie calls a halt to the march of about a dozen men to eye the farmstead ahead. The surrounding is peaceful, tranquil, and quiet. A vague smell of dinner wafts through the wind.
"Ceann Brodie.. this ain't anywhere near the Faol place," one of his men asks unsurely.
The new Chieftain of the Bear sneers through his bush of beard. "I know." He reaches over to grab a jug of whiskey from someone's hands.
[Carac(#32384)] Above the farmstead on the whispery evening wind a crebain flies.
'Dark Curls' has been making himself useful. Now he obligingly hands up a jug of whisky, turning to survey the peaceful steading. "Nice sheep they have," he remarks neutrally, eying the pasturelands. "Healthy looking."
[Cecilia(#23897)] A young woman steps out of the house carrying a bucket from within. She has long brown hair that's pinned up, curls hanging down around her face. Her long dress swishes around her slender frame as she hauls the pail over to where a dog is tied up, dumping what must be scraps out for the animal.
[Brodie(#15443)]
At least a couple of the men crane their necks to get a better view of the woman. As she bends at the waist to feed the dog, they stroke their beards and lick their lips as if deciding that there is something more interesting than sheep here, after all.
Brodie uncorks the jug with his teeth. Luckily, someone was thoughtful enough to tie the cork to the mouth of the jug with a bit of string. It is to Dark Curls that he responds. "Better tell me your name now. If I find out you've been lying, you won't be able to tell me without a tongue."
They continue their slow and steady approach, not caring in the least whether the woman notices.
'Dark Curls' turns his attention back to Brodie. "Told you what I'd heard," he responds. "I'd helped repair a brewhouse, and this Wulf fellow had had enough to be talking freely. Ale loosens the tongue for some men, you know." He smirks as though he were free of such affliction. "I'm from the Telartairs," he adds in passing by way of identification, but then frowns. "Can't imagine even a Wulf would be foolhardy to amass an army /here/. Nowhere to hide. Shouldn't we be looking somewhere else?" He waves an arm vaguely south, towards the Wulf clan heartlands
[Carac(#32384)] Several boys, none over 11 summers, move about the farmstead handling the various chores. In other places old, weathered men well into the winter of their years watch the boys, occasionally giving orders or glancing towards the sky and complaining about the lack of rain.
[Cecilia(#23897)] The young woman never notices strangers approaching, but the dog she just fed the scraps to catches wind of the intruders. The mutt jumps up to it's feet and begins barking ferociously with quite a bit of noise. The girl, perhaps seventeen or so turns to look at what upset Spot so badly and her eyes widen to the size of saucers. "Raiders!!" She shrieks and runs for a nearby shed.
[Brodie(#15443)]
The other men seem to agree with Dark Curl's suggestion, though none voice it quite so openly as he.
"Shut your mouths. That's why I'm the Chieftain and you'll forever be fighting for scraps." Brodie threatens, but there is a gleam in his eye that seems to pierce the spreading darkness. He continues his march with his twelve men, though he maintains his casual banter with Dark Curls.
"Telartair is a good name," Brodie nods to himself. "Too bad it is wasted on you."
When the girl shrieks, Brodie calmly removes the battle axe from his back. "But I will give you a chance to prove your worth."
He inhales deep, and gripping his weapon, he shouts. "Time to catch us some dogs!"
And charges.
A fleeting look of relief crosses the features of 'Dark Curls' at the woman's shriek, though it is quickly masked. He focuses anew on Brodie, and at the shouted instruction he draws his own knife from his sheath. He lags behind the Chieftain, however, and soon a stumble over a rock halts his charge. Cursing, he rises to one knee.
[Carac(#32384)] The cry from the woman cause the boys to turn, some bravely grab pitchforks and sharpened hoes to defend their home and people.
"NO!" comes a cry from one of the old men. "Run you fools!" he cries towards those brave young souls. "Get out of here!"
The other old men make similar demands to those inside the farm house. Women and other children begin to slowly trickle out, staring in astonishment and fright towards the charging Bear warriors. "RUN!" cry the old men once again.
The old ones then begin to form a line of sorts, hoping to buy the others time to flee with their lives.
[Cecilia(#23897)] Molly disappears into the darkness of the shed while Spot continues growling and barking, the dog scratching at the dirt as he pulls in vain at the end of his leash. It's not long at all before the girl appears again wielding an axe meant for chopping wood. She swings it down at the leash and cleanly cuts the rope, sending Spot racing towards the charging Bears with teeth bared and snapping for enemy flesh.
Molly holds the axe then, torn with indecision as she feels the urge to flee battling with the need to defend her home. Fear weighs in stronger and the girl begins running away, still holding the weapon tightly.
[Brodie(#15443)]
A firm hand would rest upon the shoulder of Telartair, then the hand curls to trap the material of the boy's shirt in his fist. This is followed by a mouth that leans close into the dark curls, and he speaks with breath reeking of whiskey. "Oh no you don't. Ceann warned me you may try and escape. Now get up and go catch a wolf! I am watching you!"
"Kill those ancients. Catch the ones that can actually work!" Brodie shouts.
The hunters of the Bear release arrows into the line while the swift footed warriors chase the women and children.
Then catching sight of Molly, Brodie cleaves his way towards her.
[Carac(#32384)] The old men are cut down quickly while the women and children flee in all directions in an attempt to escape. Their screams and cries for help carrying over the open pasturelands as they scurry about.
'Dark curls' twists free of that prisoning grip and turns round to glare at the man, his fist clenched. "Came here to spit sheep, not bairns," he hisses, scowling. He pushes himself back to his feet and dutifully limps forward, still favouring that left leg. As a hoe-head comes swinging toward him he ducks, for its owner is still well out of knife-reach. Warily he watches the snapping dog out of the corner of his eye.
[Cecilia(#23897)] Spot sends dirt flying with how quickly he tears across the yard, but it only takes one well-aimed arrow to bury itself into the dog's flank to end his rush. The dog yipes loudly in a high-pitched sound of pain, crumpling to the ground in a rolling cloud of dust. The mutt struggles to rise again, but the arrow cut deep and the animal ceases moving moments later. Does Kiern favor dogs that die valiently?
Molly is moving slowly, her dress tangling around her knees and hampering her progress. She's shrieking for the others to run faster and looks back frequently with a face that's the visage of terror. When Brodie is nearly upon her, Molly bravely turns to face him, clumsily swinging the axe in a wild arc. "Be gone from here!!"
[Brodie(#15443)]
It does not take long to capture this small farmstead obviously devoid of able bodied men. The air is soon filled with the pained screaming and groaning of the elderly maimed men and women.
Vicious and brutal are they, these twelve men hand picked by Brodie - not including Dark Curls - seem to take joy in cutting down opponents weaker than they. And the most vicious of all, Brodie himself, now stands in front of Molly, catching the swinging axe by the handle with his palm. He then pulls it and the girl, jerking them both towards him.
"Bring Telartair here!"
'Dark curls' seems to be doing a little better now, having wrested the hoe away from its owner - swung in a wide arc, it clears anything in his path. And if its main effect is to cause those menaced to flee, what of that? At Brodie's shout he pauses to look up sullenly, keen eyes gauging the distance to, the Bear archers still with arrows to spare ... Then, "What is it?" His knife-blade is red now, though none would be able to recollect when they saw him draw blood.
[Cecilia(#23897)] Molly is drug towards the large, frightening man, smacking right into his chest. She immediately tries to push away to flee in the opposite direction, but Brodie's grip is too strong and her feeble attempts to pull away prove useless. "Let me go!! My family!!" The girl cries, swinging her fist at Brodie's arm ineffectually.
[Brodie(#15443)]
With the spirited Molly in his iron grip, Brodie turns to face Dark Curls. Roughly, he spins his captive around so that her back is pressed against his front, with the axe handle held tightly across her throat. That gleam in his eye has become very unpleasant as he smiles.
"Ask her where the men of Wulf are gathering to build this army that you spoke of. Make her speak the truth and I shall let you keep your tongue."
[Carac(#32384)] "I guess I was wrong Gariag," comes a voice from the west. "Wasn't dung I smelt, was Bears."
The old Hawk archer steps over the rise and looks over the farmstead spread before him. His bow is drawn and the arrow aimed directly for the Bear Ceann, four more archers step behind him the strings of their bows pulled back to their ear and the deadly shafts within also aimed for the Bear Ceann.
"Turn your smelly Bear asses around and head back to your hovels in Caerdh," Garaig calls towards them, as another score of men move up to stand behind him and the archers.
"If you aren't moving by the time I reach five," he nods towards Brodie. "The big one is gonna begin sproutin' arrows." He spits out the corner of his mouth while keeping the head of his arrow trained on Brodie.
"One."
'Dark Curls' scowls. "Very well," he answers curtly, though his features are unwontedly pale. The red-bladed knife lifts and its point rests lightly between the girl's breasts. "Speak, wench. Tell the Ceann what he wants to know, or I'll decide which you start losing. A finger," he gestures, "a nose," he squints at her thoughtfully, raising the knife-blade to her face, "or maybe an eye?" The blade lifts a little further, then hovers. Perhaps he does not hear the Hawk's words, perhaps what happens next is merely a reflex action. The blade jerks suddenly up and sideways, its target not Molly's beautiful eyes but Brodie's chin and throat.
[Cecilia(#23897)] Molly gives a little squeak as Brodie twists her around and presses the axe handle against her throat. Reflexively her hands reach up to try and pry it away and free herself, but it is to little avail. The young woman has tears in her eyes that are on the verge of flowing free.
She begins trembling when the bloodied knife is waved around by the man in front of her. Almost immediately she begins babbling, trying to save her skin, "Eleska called all the men to arms.. said there was trouble! My .. my boyfriend from another fian, told me of the Bear Clan, said they were up to no good! He went to warn them to build an army and said we would be safe h-Ahh!!!" The girl cuts off with another shriek as the knife blade flashes in. The archers? The least of her concern.
[Brodie(#15443)]
Everything happens in the blink of an eye.
The girl revealing secrets. The bloodied knife going for Brodie's throat. The surprise arrival of the archers causing Brodie to jerk his face. The knife shaving off a patch of the Chieftain's beard instead of slicing his throat.
The sadistic gleam in Brodie's eyes turns into a fiery rage, giving Dark Curls a look that could kill. But unlike Molly, his concern /is/ the archers. Brodie keeps his voice from exploding, as he calmly answers.
"This ain't your fight, Gariag. This is Fian Eliska's land. Eliska called her army to kill your precious son of I'racil and his rebellion. You should be thanking me."
[Carac(#32384)] "Just like you, Brodie," Gariag replies. "Always wanting to run your Kiern damned mouth when it's time to fight." He wrinkles his brow in an imitation of deep thought. "What number was I on? Aww Kiern balls," he growls.
"5."
The strings thrum and five arrows fly towards the Ceann. With a smooth motion the archers quickly replace their arrows and their strings are drawn once more.
[Cecilia(#23897)] The stress is simply too much for poor Molly. The arrows streak at them and she screams, and then rather abruptly the trembling mass that Brodie is holding passes out. Does she get impaled? It all depends on what her captor does.
'Dark curls' does not waste time on curses, nor even in wondering why he is still alive - what of the Ceann's loyal men now? As the girl sags in Brodie's grip, he swings the knife again, perhaps hoping that the lack of facial hair will give him clearer aim. "Put her down."
[Brodie(#15443)]
Brodie is not above using a woman - a fainted woman -- as his shield. At least 3 arrows find its mark on the poor girl, but the other two sinks into the big target. He lets out a guttural cry, and he staggers. Two arrows and dagger wound to the throat is something that not even the great Brodie can withstand. With his men just standing idly by watching him get slain, he collapses to the ground.
The last thing he hears is Banedil's words echoing in his mind
What would ya prefer? Men who would be willing to stand at yer side, willing to die with ya? Or always watching over yer shoulder at these people ya scaring. Always not sure if ya might be slippin', ya feelin' like they are out to get ya. Because they will. All of em."
[Carac(#32384)] "Rest of you get the scrog out of here," Gariag curses as the archers take aim on other members of the Bear contigent. "You're not even gettin a Kiern damned count, move your scroggin' arses now!" he bellows.
An arrow slices past Brev's cheek, drawing blood, and he flinches, the knife going wide. So intent has he been on his target that he has failed to appreciate the danger posed by the archers. Now, as Brodie indeed drops the girl, he curses, and reaches out to pull her away from the fallen man to see whether she lives or no. His leather-clad back remains entirely unprotected.
[Brodie(#15443)]
"You'll pay for this, Gariag, you old hag. That's two Chieftains of the Bear Clan you've slain, all in the name of .. whatever you call it."
The whiskey breath glances at Brev's open back, and true to form, he does indeed take a cheap shot in the form of a swift boot. "We all know your face. You're a dead man."
They collect their fallen leader -- eyeing his gear more than his wounds -- and leave.
[Carac(#32384)] Gariag and the other archers keep their arrows upon the Bear as they depart. "If I have to pay back every man who's told me I'd pay, I'll need be granted four lifetimes," Gariag says to the departing warriors. "Go see if any of the wounded can be saved," he growls towards the men at his back.
Brev is sent sprawling by the force of the kick - fortunately he manages to keep his knife-hand clear. Grunting, he rolls over and up again, and stares after the departing Bear then looks down at the fallen girl, and focuses on the task in hand, clinging to the slim chance that perhaps, just perhaps, one life can be saved. Under his breath he mutters a stream of curses. All in all, not the best of endings to a long day.
Players: Brodie, Brev, Molly, Garaig, Cecilia, Carac
Located in: Dunlending
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