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The Wilds were seldom
touched by the grace of sunlight and for that reason warmth was never
something one took for granted. The lazy assortment of twigs and
branches crackled as flames licked up at the sides and Bale held his
hands out to receive the heat. A thick, gray fog rose up to greet him,
billowing out over the campsite in hazy clouds while the large column to
the center filtered up through the overlapping branches above. Stone
Eyes watched whilst taking a drag off his clay pipe and exhaled, adding
to the thickening smog. He reached down to fish up a stick and fed it to
the hungry flames.
A harsh
cough sounded from behind, but Bale didn’t need to turn to recognize
Cal’s gravelly voice. “Think you’ve got enough wood burning? It might be
****in’ cold, but that don’t mean I want to die choking on your damn
smoke.” The man took up a seat on the log beside Bale. “Even a wretch
out fifty leagues could spot this mess.”
Bale laughed at the boy’s annoyance and took another puff of his pipe as Cal
turned to speak. “And the-“ he got a face full of smoke deliberately
blown from Stone Eye’s mouth and fell from the log coughing and
sputterin’. “For ****’s sake!” he gagged. Another laugh rumbled on the
other side of the blaze and Bale joined in while Cal scowled up at him.
“Bastard!” the younger man spat.
“Lighten up, boy,” said Rud from his spot opposite of them. “Lighten
up? How’s one supposed to lighten up with a couple arses like you two
kickin’ their **** from home to here?” he frowned. “Now there’s a
laugh!”
Bale shook his head and savored the last few huffs of chagga, letting the
earthy-sweet taste water his mouth till he had to breathe once more. The
embers of his pipe slowly burned to ashes and Bale took one final drag
before tapping it out over the fire and shoving it aside. It was a rare
fungus he had found growing down around the roots of an old ash tree
spread about all around. It had been a chore to gather it all up, but
end result was a taste that could melt away even the worst of moods.
“Relax, Cal,” he spoke calmly, patting the space beside him. “Sit
yourself down, why don’t you?”
“Sit?” he asked with exaggerated disbelief as he got to his feet. “I thought I
was sittin’ before,” he huffed while reclaiming his lost seat. Cal had
long since earned his spot by the fire, yet he was too amusin’ just to
let be and Rud was just the type to get under anyone’s skin. Given the
chance, Bale was quite sure they’d huff and howl till the horde was
around them with weapons drawn. “All I know is Timmet better lug his
skinny arse on down here before too long. I’m sittin’ here starved and
he’s probably off in some village ruttin’ like a dog with some
chieftain’s daughter.”
“More like he’s runnin’ around lost,” Rud added. Bale
shook his head. “Speaks the man who couldn’t find **** if it fell out
his own ass. The boy’s too good a tracker to lose himself, but don’t
fret about it ya lug, your belly’ll be full soon enough.” “You
boys runnin’ your mouths again? Well that be fine. Might be I keep this
here doe for myself and y’all’d be **** out o’ luck.” A mild
breeze pulled at the flames and tugged at greasy strands on Bale’s
face. He brushed them aside with his hand to see a lean built boy
walking with confident strides into the homely little camp they’d
managed to set up. Slung across the lad’s shoulders was the still
carcass of small doe. It was precious little meat, but it would make for
a good stew, maybe with some mushrooms thrown in for flavor. “So the
mighty hunter joins the rest of us!”
“’Bout time, Cal couldn’t stand another instant parted from ya. Y’alls is a
love so sweet it makes me wish I were a lad once more,” Rud grinned as
Timmet, the youngest and last of their ragged band, took his place
amongst the bunch, carefully laying the deer across the grimy ground. “An
ugly child like you? I shudder to think what daughter o’ Flemmeth would
touch your flabby ass,” Cal muttered. Seemed to Bale, Cal and Rud
trading jests was so natural to the pair, it could be done with little
thinkin’ to be had, for Cal’s attention seemed more focused on the meat
than.
“If one
of you’d like to lend me a hand, might be we’ll be eaten soon,” Tim threw in. Bale
nodded. “What with?” “Just need ya to put the pot on and lend me a knife,” the boy spoke as he
mentally marked off his cuts. “I lost mine to the night and don’t expect
to be seein’ it again.” Bale pulled up the old cook pot they all
shared. Battered and dented, it was none too pretty to look at, (kind of
like Rud) but it had served its use reliably over the years. He hung off a branch over
the fire and watched as the flames flickered across the bottom surface. Rud
loosed his own knife and held it out for Tim hilt first. “You run into a
bit o’ trouble then?”
He snatched the blade up and went to work, his hands flying deftly across
the dead beast, expertly peeling the skin away. “****ing wretches!” the
boy snarled. “Bloody everywhere.” He looked up from his task and pointed
the knife at Bale from across the flames. “Ran into a little one, a
lone scout, but I’d stake my left nut we’ve got more than that around
here.”
“The corpse?” Rud inquired with a quizzical stare. “Gave
it to the river,” Tim answered, skillfully carving bits of red meat from
his kill and it sizzled as it touched the black iron. Bale
planted an elbow on his knee and rested his chin in his palm. He
might’ve figured by going south, they could call on Grenn or maybe Tul
for assistance, but if those damnable creatures were spreading out
amongst the muck and marshes, it might be they had the wrong idea to
start with. It had been old Ironfist who suggested that the wretches
were pouring in from the Frostbacks, but now that seemed like it was
more guessing than anything, for the groupings of darkspawn thickened
the further south they went. “Boy’s more than like, right. We’d do well
to start back the way we’ve come, but…”
“That ain’t the case,” Cal finished. Bale lifted his head up and nodded which
only seemed to put the fury in Cal. “We’d be ****in’ daft to keep
headin’ the way we are! Have you lost your sense?” Tim and Rud turned
their eyes to Bale waitin’ for a response. Cal had a mouth on him,
plain and simple as that, and it were often times that mouth got him in a
fair bit o’ trouble. But despite his complete lack of respect for
authority and full knowledge of the **** he spewed out, it was seldom he
backed down after what was said was said. Standing from his sittin’
position he glared down at Bale. “Huh? Why do we keep headin’ the way
we-“ “You scared?” asked Tim.
Cal turned to look down on him with a big grin, and Bale winced. It was a
damn fool of a question, that. He'd never been scared in his life, Cal.
Didn't know what it was to be scared. “Feared of a few Wretches? Me?” He
gave a harsh laugh. “Might be you’re confused,” Might be Timmet was.
Though Cal submitted to the seniority of Bale and Rud, he was not so low
as to be laughed at by Timmet. He was a talented lad to be sure, but a
lad none the less, and one who still needed to realize he barely had
room for a trickle in this ****** pot they called fire talk. “They don’t
scare me, small lad, no more than a ****** ant like you does, but I don’t
just plan to charge headlong into what’s probably a slaughter waitin’.
Some of us take value in our lives thank you, and mind my words, yours
ain’t worth no more than mine, Stone Eyes.”
“Stay that tongue o’ yours, Cal,” Tul muttered. “Or it might be I take it for
you. You forget Stone Eyes is chief outside of home, something you might
start rememberin’.” There was a promise in there somewhere. “You’d do
well to mind yours as well, Tim.”
A silence fell over the four, but was quickly lifted by a forced cough
from Bale. “ Now I don't care for your words, Cal, but you’re speakin’
more sense than most might think you have.” That seemed to be enough
praise for the man to take his seat once more and lean in to listen with
the others. “Now I don’t give a rat’s ass for Ironfist, no more than
the rest o’ you, but in the end, he’s still our chief and we’ll do as
were told now.”
Their leader had spoken but even then it was only from years of deep rooted
loyalty that they didn’t question his judgment. Bale turned his gaze
from Cal’s frown, to Timmet’s blank
stare, and, lastly, met Rud’s hard eyes. None of them were happy about
it, that was plain. But he couldn’t bring himself to hold it against any
one of them. Ironfist was no fit leader, and for the past few years,
they watched as unnecessary sacrifices brought many of their comrades
back to the mud, it were actions such as those that put the fury in even
Bale’s blood. “If he keeps on like he is, then there’ll be little worry about who’s chief,”
Cal muttered darkly. Leather hissed as the man pulled his long sword
from its bindings, and a scraping noise commenced as he moved a
whetstone up and down the edge. They all knew what them words meant as
well, no one planned to challenge them either. Might be they were true.
Who’s to say?
“Right then,” Stone Eyes said. “We’ll eat and rest up. With any luck, we’ll be
reaching Grenn’s neck o’ the woods by this time tomorrow.”~ Timmet
tramped back with an arrow knocked and his face red from exhaustion.
The three of them looked at him with a feeling of dreadful curiosity
but, ultimately, it would be Bale who posed the question. “How many?”
And when the lean boy’s eyes fell in response, Bale’s stomach lurched
miserably.
“Ten, and even at a distance the smell o’ blood’s plain. From the look of the
corpses around the place, most have been migrants coming up from the
south.” So the wretches could think. Well that was just ****ing perfect.
“Might be we should go around?” he questioned with a doubtful sense of
hope. Stone Eyes shook his head. With the river as high as it was, that bridge was
the only safe crossing they had without heading twenty miles to the left
or thirty to the right. “Ain’t no way to do it, strange thing though.
What do the wretches gain from cutting the lower clans off from the
north? Far as I’ve seen, they’ve simply scavenged and not much else.” Cal
and Timmet merely shrugged, but Rud gave it a little extra thought.
“Might be they’re running low on supplies like most others. Blocking off
a road is one of the surer ways to profit ‘round here.” True enough
Bale figured. Though something told him it wasn’t quite so simple. Cal
spat a wad of brown spit out onto the dirt. “Ten’s nothing! We can do
for’em alright!” he patted the hilt of his blade. “Least I’m willing to
unless y’all’d like to head on back for home.”
“Ten ain’t nothing,” Rud said. Bale quietly agreed with that bit o’ wisdom.
Ten wretches still had twice their numbers with two to spare. “What’s
it to be Chief?” Tim asked. “Weapons?”
Bale inquired, lifting his own blade from its scabbard. Timmet gave his
bowstring a twang and checked over the feathers of his shafts while Cal
scratched at a bit of rust on the surface of his own weapon like a
doting mother fussing over her child. Rud didn’t need to show his
weapon, for even if the massive length of steel hanging on his back was
worthless, his fists would do all the same. Stone Eyes did well to check
the knives hanging at his belt as well. “Can never have too many knives,” was
something his father might’ve said, and whether he did or not, Bale had a
tendency to agree with the statement.
“Right,” the joints in his neck popped with a jerk of his head, “Tim, you’ll be
in the trees and'll start firing once me and Rud pull’em our way. We can
take a few, so if it happens that only a few follow us, you and Cal
will get those left on the bridge.” All three of them nodded and
responded with less than audible mumbling. “Then let’s get on with this
bloody business and hope we’ll be sleeping under a roof tonight,” Bale
grinned, earning a nervous chuckle from Tim. “And one last thing,” he
turned and looked to them all individually. “Wait for the ****ing
signal.”
Cal laughed, “Aye, chief,” and with those final words, they spread out along
the brush. With a man of Rud’s stature at his side, Bale found their attempts at
“sneakin’” almost laughably pathetic as the ground shook with each step
the man made. He said nothing though, and kept wading his way through
the tangled shrubbery with the giant at his tail. The pair moved as far
down as they could before axe scarred trees became more apparent along
with the stumps that seemed to litter the muddy ground below. The
wretches might be a little less empty headed then they all had
originally thought. Clearing trees out took a reasonable amount of
thinkin’, a sure strategy when one wanted to have a full vantage point
of what was to come. The tallest of the age old sentries still stood
though, dotting a space of land here and there but it was mostly a clear
twenty yard stretch between them and the bridge; it was a rickety old
thing that seemed to rattle with the mildest of a breeze. Two of
the little ones snarled out bestial sounds at one another in the
atrocious tongue that some were beginning to call the black speech.
They held tightly strung short bows at their sides, while a few others,
armed with sword and shield, roamed about in front of them. It was a
standard defense to be sure, but an effective one none the less. Keep
your range to the back and have your swords to the front. Bale’s eyes
narrowed in contemplation, as he leaned up against the last barrier
between them and no man’s land. His heart was thumping with anticipation
alongside the heavy, ragged breaths of Rud behind him. Stone Eyes
clenched the hilt of his blade, and turned around to give his fellow
Chasind a brief nod.
He lunged out the nearest wretch gave it a backhanded blow across the skull
and spraying flecks of bright crimson across the clearing. “****ing
Wretches!” he roared and shoved the point of his weapon through another
before the creatures could even realize they were under attack. An arrow
looped its way from the trees and stuck itself through the neck of one
of the unfortunate little darkspawn with the bows. Rud’s thunderous
charge was never to be missed as Bale dove for the side lest he be
caught in the big man’s path. The giant swung with such force, the
wretch he struck was lifted from its feet and launched ten feet into the
air before coming back down with a crunch. A
blade reached for Bale, but a quick flick from his own and the blow was
batted away. ‘Smarterthan we may have thought,’ he thought as he cleaved
an ugly head from a set of shoulders. “…but they’re still wretches.”
Blood sprouted from the severed neck like a thick, black fountain. He
saw Cal out the corner tearing into two opponents at once with dirk and
dagger, their screeches echoing through the forest as he nicked at every
vulnerable spot on them. Two precise slashes to the throat ended the
miserable wailing almost instantly. The remaining archer waddled around
frantically trying to knock an arrow, and for an instant, Stone Eyes
thought it might’ve succeeded, that was, at least, until a shaft
sprouted from its belly and the beast slumped to the ground. Bale
turned his head just in time to see Rud cut a larger wretch from
shoulder to hip, its innards all spilling out in a chaotic disarray of
mismatched colors and organs all mixed together with oily, black blood.
The last kill was to be Cal’s as The Chasind Warrior reared back and
sent his knife twirling through open air and landing in a fleeing
darkspawn’s neck, the wretch tumbling to the ground face first. The
carnage had only lasted for maybe a few seconds, the end result being
any and all enemies dead before they could even lift a blade in defense.
Cal walked over to the last kill and wrenched his now black dotted dagger from the creature’s corpse. He
wiped the steel off on his leggings, grinning like a wolf as he admired
the butcher’s work they’d done and spat on the carcass nearest to him.
“What say we give these ****s some warm beds tonight, eh Stone Eyes?”
The insolent smile on his face never gave ground, not even to Bale’s
hard look.
“Aye,” Bale chuckled, cleaning the blood from his own sword. He looked up at
Rud’s looming form. “Mind going for some firewood, big lad?” The
mountain said nothing, but nodded and lumbered off into the woods
obediently, he passed Timmet as he went; the skinny scurried out of the
brush with all the grace and agility of a cat and came up to his chief’s
side standing at full attention. The old warrior laughed hard and
slapped the boy on the back. “You did good, boy,” and those seemed to be
the right words as the lean hunter beamed with youthful arrogance and
pride.
“’Ppreciate the sentiment, but what do you need of me at the moment?” Though his
breaths were steady, Bale noticed the quickened pace. He was high of
adrenaline and wasn’t quite ready to cool off yet. Scratching
his chin, Stone Eyes jutted a finger in the direction behind him which
led to the bridge. “I want you to look around nearby just to make sure
we aren’t missing any wretches. Would be an awful shame to get past this
sad little crossing just to be put to the sword in our sleep. Just make
sure you’re-“ He needn’t finish, for the lad was already halfway across
leaving just Bale, Cal, and a post mortem battlefield that was
decorated with the fine reds, blues, purples, and blacks that were
presented in the form of detached limbs, the occasional piled innards,
and blood, gallons upon gallons of the dragon ******. Bale
smirked as Cal eyed him suspiciously. Realization formed on his face
instantly.
“**** no! Forget it!” he spat, waving his arms in irreverent
opposition to the idea forming in Stone Eye’s head. “I’m not your
****ing ****!” “Clean it up, Cal,” the older man said, gesturing to the mess around them. “and
pile it up neat, don’t half ass it.” “**** you!” Bale only laughed at this. “Why the **** do I always get stuck
piling these worthless wretches? I always got to be your damned whipping
boy! Ugh!” he groaned, dragged one body onto another. “I swear,
sometimes I think you cut them all to hell just as to have a joke at ole
Cal’s expense!” “Just get to it and I’ll help you in a minute. We killed the ****ing lot of
‘em, so be happy for a few minutes. We can **** later.” “Yeah,
we killed ‘em alright, but there be thousands more where we’re going it
seems,” Cal argued, tossing an arm into the steadily growing pile. “And
we’ll kill those all the same just as well. Back to the mud, eh?” Bale
asked.
“Aye, chief. Back to the mud.” The day
went quiet for its entirety, and once the corpses had
been burned, the four warriors continued along the trail well into the
evening until finally reaching the Murky Moat; it was the stronghold to
one of the largest clans south of the river, and it was under the rule
of Grenn, Bear of the Swamps.
Modifié par Riknas, 14 mars 2010 - 10:05 .
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