Sworded Tales

Kurn raised his own hand and passed Borlak’s signal back along the line.  He then moved his mount a stride ahead of Erellia’s to shield her.  Getting the horses into cover would take many seconds, so Kurn accepted exposed shield point on the halted line as everyone prepared and moved as they would.  Whether Borlak’s intent was to conceal himself and flank once whatever was advancing had passed his position or whether Borlak intended to himself advance and investigate on foot remained to be seen.

Kurn pulled his shield to arm and his sword to hand.  With no immediate danger yet evident, the riding horse he sat upon accepted the halt docilely.  He looked forward to try to follow Borlak’s indication and determine the source of the warrior’s alert. Continue reading

From his position some distance away, Kurn missed the exchange between Erellia and Zulian but noted Zulian’s route away from the the rest of the party.  Kurn threw Erellia a questioning glance and nudged his own horse to angle off in the same direction, trailing back from Zulian but closing the distance.

Erellia guided her horse into a canter to close the distance between herself and Kurn.  “There is no need for you to follow her, Kurn.  She is only ghosting Daroun for a short while to insure there are no hunters following him.  She will rejoin us before long.”

Erellia turned her mount in the direction of the slowly moving train and as an afterthought said with a smile, “Plus, I don’t
believe you could follow her.  She’s very good at what she does.”  She then began making her way back toward the others. Continue reading

“A noble conclusion to a notorious life,” Erellia said of the bonfire with a faint smile, “But we must continue to look to the horizon.”

If she noticed the tension within the ranks of the party, the Elven woman gave no outward indication.

“We must depart,” she said, eyeing Thorum’s hasty retreat, “No doubt my efforts will bring undo attention upon us. We ride for the hamlet of Anquilla as soon as possible. Break camp and prepare to head south along the river.” Continue reading

At the flaming burst of fire on the field of battle, Thorum got a bit skittish.  “Right.  Well, no sense in keeping you folks,” he said, backing away from Erellia’s blaze, “I’ll just be heading back to check on the morale of the troops and all.  There’re some matters that, uh, need attending.”

The armored man then turned and made quick work of the distance between the camp and the settlement as best he was able with his limp.

Kurn held his place as Zulian approached, coldly confident in the face of her supposed ire and bravado.  Had to admire her spunk, though.  He didn’t hide his appraising glance of her as she approached but experience kept him tactically aware of her shoulders and her hips — he noted she was not tensing to attack. Continue reading

Borlak replied to the man, “Well met, I am sure.  But as for the invitation, I must decline.”  The barbarian looked around at the muddy field, and the camp, taking in the would-be adventurers before continuing on, “I cannot speak for the others, but I have signed on with this group.”

Rôhn finished wrapping proper dressing around his battle wounds and looked up when he heard Thorum’s greeting.  He hastily moved out from under the tarp, leaving his weapons and armor there, and approached the circle of conversation, taking up position next to Borlak, as if by his very proximity, he registered his accordance with Borlak’s declination.

“How fares the bridge?” the Dwarf interrupted with some urgency, wiping blood — precisely whose was undetermined — from his hands to his shirt.  He tucked his thumbs in his broad leather girdle as his eyes darted to the hillock, which obscured the bridge from view, and, gritting his teeth, mentally warded off any ill news in Thorum’s response.

“Well, can’t say as the bridge ‘as suffered any trouble,” Thorum replied.

Rôhn nodded and, either rudely or seemingly oblivious to common civility, turned and walked away as Thorum was answering his question. Continue reading

Katarina watched with undisguised interest when Erellia made the arrow materialize in her palm. She got a closer look, then looked at the Elven woman. “Was that Elven magic, or perhaps arcane magic put to clever use? I need to pray to Trymeya for something like that, could come in very useful.”

Erellia smiled as Katarina posed her questions. “Just a bit of Metherin’s Weave, dear, nothing more. I’m sure Trymeya will share such mysteries with you when she deems you ready.” Continue reading

Further examination of the Calishite revealed that he was deceased for some few hours at least, and although Marcus had not witnessed every subversive means to fake death, the severity of this neck injury was without a doubt irreparable by any but the most divine intervention. In addition, he had been stripped down to his under clothing, with anything of value having been removed.

Zulian’s angled eyes gave Katarina an appraising glance from face to foot and back again, as if assessing her motives. She then turned her head slightly and caught Erellia’s eye.

“Katarina, priestess of Trymeya,” Erellia offered before returning to her work with Vanris. Continue reading

Kurn gave a slow blink and shift of attention toward the boisterous warrior.  His eyes opened and surveyed the man, Kurn’s disapproval of the boasting tempered by the blood that adorned the man’s greatsword.  Kurn turned to Cheskith, in step with the return to Erellia’s shelter, and shrugged, glad that the conflict had ended and showing he cared little for such calls made in its wake.

Kurn reached the shelter and put the riding saddle under its canopy. He caught the eye of Haron and was briefly amused at the open amazement in Haron’s eyes that Kurn was on his feet after such an engagement, though Kurn knew he looked a poor sight.  “One of the pack horses is now for riding again.”  Kurn tipped his head toward the recovered saddle.  He looked up and down Haron as if checking the boy for injury from several paces distance, and was relieved to see he had suffered none.  He gave an acknowledging glance to the others of Erellia’s party, sparing no smile but glad they were all well nevertheless. Continue reading

“Can you handle the wagon?” Borlak asked of Katarina, “I will ride ahead a bit and see if I can find a safe route.”

He hurried Galagina ahead with practiced agility. Heels administered a sharp tap to her withers, prompting the horse to step smartly forward and a bit to the right; a slight, follow-up tug on the reins brought the well-trained horse to a halt.

The barbarian secured the reins to the saddle’s pommel whilst taking up his shield; best to guide the horse with just his legs. A few practiced motions secured the shield to his left forearm, and he rested his now-free right hand on the grip of his sword. He glanced back to ensure that Katarina was ready to proceed before starting toward the eastern edge of Westerly. Continue reading

Without missing a step, Marcus smashed his shield into the face of the would be robber as he turned to flee, dropping him like a sack of potatoes.

Katarina lead the animals away via the path of least resistance, as she didn’t want to attract any undue interest to herself while getting the supplies back to camp.  She realized with a grim thought that many will be needing the healing touch of Trymeya as well as her own skills.

A deep sigh escaped Daroun as cursed his inopportune luck.’  He had just released his hold on several spells to make room for the elemental magics they would need against the Trolls.  Now he had not the time to study them, caught more unprepared than ever.  Continue reading