[Laurelyn]
Laurelyn couldn't hold against the force of the bandit's blow, and her sword went flying out of her grip. She felt the strain in her hand as the blade was torn free, but blessed the gods of sea and stone that the rogue's mace had not connected with her fingers.
Her own grin was savage - though - as the angle of his blow gave impetus to her pivot. Driving her dagger towards his back.
[Laurelyn's Attacker]
It was the most ironic moment in his life - being killed by a woman when he had previously only pictured them as wenches, wives and harlots - and it was also the shortest moment of his life.
The dagger plunged into his back, slipping mercifully between vertebrae and severing his spinal cord as she wrenched it across. Death was practically instantaneous. Particularly since she had shoved the dagger upwards first - before cutting across.
[Laurelyn]
Laurelyn had earlier heard the nearly continous <thwang> of crossbows being fired, so she pulled her dagger free, grabbed up her sword and ducked for cover in some bushes. She didn't give herself time to think of the man's blood which now covered her left arm.
There she crouched - assessing the situation, and her injuries. Outside of being jarred and having a sore rib (which was either cracked or bruised) she seemed to be in one piece. And beyond - her immediate area seemed to clear.
Moving as quietly as she could Laurelyn began to head towards the sounds of combat. She kept to cover and stayed low.
[other narration]
Somehow in the confusion, there were now seven bandits, and they raised knocked crossbows and aimed. They released their bolts in unison, a raging roar of defiance on the lips.
[Pierre]
The arrows sped by him, one cutting flesh off his left cheek and imbedding itself in the pack that was on his horse's side. His horse gave a cry and shied.
"Ssssh," whispered Pierre, as comfortingly as was possible her. "Relax. It's ok. It's ok." He stroked her side, praying that he was correct. That what he dreaded had not happened.
Pierre pulled out the arrow, noticing with some relief that the wound wasn't deep, and would heal easily.
Now the find the truth. He reached into the packet, pulling out the papers.
It had been destroyed. The letter from Abigail, a most important treasure, had been ripped by the arrow. He found his hands clenching into fists, and determined not to cry.
-It is no big deal,- he thought, weakly. -It is but a letter.-
[Rudolpho]
The young Gypsy didn't see where all the wounds were coming from as they magically seemed to appear, yet he knew who it was. Jacques was doing a great deal to foster confusion in the ranks of the attackers. -I can help him do that.- Rudolpho set the second man under his control, the swordsman, to a berserker charge at his former companions. He ran pell mell into their ranks slashing unmercifully at them this way and that, a throat here, a gut there. Their crossbows doing them little good at such short range. Meanwhile he had the archer fire at the other swordsmen. Their swords too were no good against his distance attack as they were rendered unable to focus their attentions on their former ally turned assailant. -Time to play mind games.- Altering only his voice to that of his panther form he rumbled deeply, turning it into a roar that echoed throughout the woods.
[Jacques]
Jacques groaned as the wounded bandits obviously decided death was preferable to an honourable retreat. Hopefully those that _had_ fled would be spurred on a little faster with that roar. Though he was willing enough to kill them all if need be, it was hell to get blood off his uniform. He gripped the knife in one hand and turned back to the row of seven remaining bandits.
The first fell with the purple handled knife stuck in his stomach. The second fell as Jacques sliced his throat with another knife. Two more fell screaming and gurgling as an invisible blade scored up and through their chest to a lung.
Four seconds had passed since Jacques had begun, and he wasn't finished.
[Thomis]
Seeing that the invisible jester seemed to have things well under control -- it indeed had been a fortunate morning when the man had stumbled downstream, pup in hand, the previous day -- Thomis resheathed his sword and half-watched as wounds seemed to appear on the bandits spontaneously. The other half of his attention was devoted to his own injuries. -Amateur,- he berated himself silently, imagining what Mesani I'Se's scathing commentary would be.
[Jacques]
Another, just beginning to lower his crossbow for another reload, fell forward as a long, ivory handled knife appeared in his back. The bandit began scrabbling desperately to pull the knife free, but stopped as it removed itself and slid back in - deeper and harder - in a blur.
Jacques pulled a long, sky-blue handled knife from his uniform and turned to penultimate bandit who was now scrabbling for his sword. The knife scored along the man's arm, striking the artery and causing a fountain of blood. And then scored along the back of his legs, digging handle deep. The bandit collapsed.
Six seconds had passed since Jacques had begun. And he was done.
The faint, continuous, jangling of bells stopped, and Jacques suddenly reappeared directly in front of the startled remaining bandit, knife in hand and held a half centimeter from the man's crotch.
"I think we've had enough fun for today," said the jester as the man dropped his crossbow in surprise. "You tell your friends that next time I won't be so generous." He winked. "And keep an eye out for cats, won't you?"
[Bandit]
The man quivered, and dropped his weapon. Sweat broke out on his forehead and he tried to slowly back away from the dagger which threatened not only his present, but his future. In a moment of inspiration, he turned and ran, a cry escaping his lips out of sheer terror.
[Daron]
Hearing the last bandit run away, Daron chanced sitting up.
Her head spun from the sudden movement. She idly noted the arrows sticking out of her left shoulder and thigh.
-Oh. That's interesting...-
Daron slowly reached in the nearest saddlebag, found a shirt that had seen better days and started to tear it into bandages. Once she finished that task, she gritted her teeth, reached for the arrow in her thigh and pulled the shaft out quickly. Just as quickly, she bound the wound with a piece of the torn shirt. She repeated this sequence of events as best she could with the arrow in her shoulder.
-Now, to find Rudolpho...those bandits better not have hurt him...-
[Rudolpho]
Rudolpho watched grimly as his two "soldiers" were sent to meet their maker. He felt some remorse having to sacrifice them, but they would have not hesitated to considerably shorten anyone of their life spans. He sat down and began to knead the clay dolls back into lumps and removed the bits of skin that had bound the two men to his spell. When he was finished, he noted that the party members were taking care of their wounds, and decided to do a quick circut around them to make sure there were no more "unwelcome guests" in the area. Completing the shift he had started with only the voice, he again took on the full panther form. He padded silently around the group sniffing and looking for intruders. He was relieved to find none.
[Thomis]
-Now time to get my horse.- Fortunately, he had not left the animal too far behind, though it did take him a bit to make his way to where the creature still stood stoically, chomping at the grass and seemingly oblivious to the fighting that had occurred further up the road. "So much for just a dozen or so bandits, eh?" Thomis commented as he pulled himself into the saddle, swinging the injured leg -- still with its bolt -- over with a sharp hiss of his breath. Better to ride the damned thing back to the others than lead it on foot.
[Keir]
Several minutes after the last arrow passed, Keir cautiously poked his head above the rapidly cooling body. "Humph, no more bandits?" He glanced around to where Laurelyn had been fighting for her life and saw she was gone too. "Huh, no nobody!" Drawing himself erect, he prepared to move back towards the road. Being of a practical nature he first relieved the bandit of his purse, leaving two of the coins on the rogue's eyes before he set out.
"There, let your spirit see what you threw your life away for."
[Daron]
Daron started to dismount her horse. The world around her seemed to spin crazily. Trying to keep her balance, she overcompensated and, as a consequence, fell off Falcon. She hit the ground hard on her wounded side.
-Ow...that hurt...real smart move there...-
Her eyes struggled to focus. She saw
the jester with a knife in his hand. Pierre appeared to be none the worse
for wear. The handsome stranger was still sprawled on the dirt road.
His breathing sounded labored to her.
But Rudolpho was nowhere to be seen. Nor
was Laurelyn, Thomis, or Keir.
Gritting her teeth, Daron managed to get to her knees without passing out in the meantime. Miraculously, she still clutched the remains of her shirt in her right hand when she fell. She slowly got to her feet. Focusing her concentration solely on getting to the handsome stranger--no, his name was Brendan; he'd told them that before the ambush--Daron stubbornly put one booted foot before the other.
If nothing else, this Brendan could tell her what happened to Rudolpho. Not to mention he was rather easy on the eyes. A plus, since she was having trouble focusing as is.
She staggered to where Brendan lay. Sinking to her knees gratefully by his side, she gently turned his body over.
"Master Keir, I could use your help over here!" she called. Or so she thought; her voice came out a hoarse whisper.
[Jacques]
"Is there a doctor in the house?" Jacques asked a little caustically. So much for the fun jaunt through the forest to somewhere where they had lager, women of negotiable virtue, and a decent idea of a bath. Or at least the first two.
He slipped the knife into a pocket somewhere on his uniform, and started toward Daron.
A pitiable whine cut across the field, coming from Laurelyn's horse, Beast. Or, rather, from a battered backpack still strung on Beast's saddle. Two crossbow bolts protruded at bizarre angles from the pack.
Jacques' eyes flicked from Daron to the backpack.
"Stupid animal, always gettin' in the way."
He walked a little faster and bypassed Daron on a path to where the pup was still whining miserably, and occassionally howling painfully.
Jacques opened the backpack without touching either bolt - at least neither had penetrated enough to do more than scratch the horse. Just as well since he didn't want to be facing an agitated animal of _that_ size.
Cowering in the bottom of the pack was a small bundle of brown fur, which looked up with scared brown eyes. Fiend tried a friendly yip when he recognised the face of the jester, but it came out more as a whimper.
Down the pup's rump and hind leg was a gash about two inches long where he'd been thrown against an arrow's barb. Blood oozed from the wound in a slow but steady flow.
"Is there a _vet_ in the house?" asked Jacques of no-one in particular, as he reached in and lifted the whimpering Fiend out into the sunlight.
[Rudolpho]
Rudolpho did not find any further sign of the bandits, save a lingering
scent trail that grew colder by the moment and was not worth following.
He familiarized himself with the scent, so he could recognize it in the
future if the need arose. He did however, smell the scent of blood
from the clearing and recalled how his group needed help. He turned
and started back towards them.
[Thomis]
-Laurelyn and Rudolpho.- The boy had not been seen since before the fighting started; Hillrover had slipped into the shadows of the trees, sword in hand, early on. He was torn between the urge to look for the two, and to stay with the others -- Daron looked ready to collapse by the stranger, Brendan's, side and Jacques held a trembling pup in his hand.
The girl looked to be in worse shape, so Thomis kneed his mount over to her and managed to dismount with a minimum of pain. "Might have been best to leave the bolts in until Master Keir could tend to you," he remarked. His own leg ached terribly, but the wound had closed around the slender bolt and the bleeding was minor. He carried some medical supplies with him, best suited to dressing injuries, and without further comment he pulled it from the pack, bandages and antiseptic, likely much less than Keir carried as a healer. "I can clean your injuries for you, but you will need to see our resident healer."
[Brendan]
Brendan groaned softly, and his eyes fluttered open. A painful blur of light seemed to slice its way between his eyelids, and he lifted a hand to his head to feel if it was all there.
His vision cleared slightly, and he saw an angel stooping above him.
"Oh damn" he said, "I've gone to the wrong place."
He shut his eyes painfully, and groaned again.
"I don't deserve this," he muttered, tasting blood in his mouth.
[Laurelyn]
As Laurelyn crept along she noted the silence of the woods - no longer did crossbow bolts pepper the area. Thomis was foremost in her thoughts and concerns, though she was also deeply concerned about the others - they had several noncombatants within the group. Her worries and the absence of bolts made her more brazen and she quickened her step till she could see the party on the road.
Now she could see the decimation of the bandits since bodies lay all around - causing her to flashback to scenes from Montfort. And causing her to try to wipe the blood from her arm, which really only smeared it.
She saw Thomis over by Daron and Brendan and hurried over to them. "How bad?" she asked, trying to sound relatively calm though relieve rushed through when she saw the Oathbound.
[Keir]
Alert for any sound or sign, Keir dashed from tree to tree til he reached the road and saw his fellow travelers gathered in a bunch. Ignoring the still forms of the bandits he bounded over. "Everyone alright? Oh... guess not."
He quickly gauged their various wounds. Thomis, with the protuding bolt, and Daron's growing blood stains were obvious with Brendan's glazed look only slightly less so. "Mistress Laurelyn, if you're alright, I could use a small fire and some fresh water here." he asked as he took over cleaning Daron's wounded thigh from Thomis. "Let me take that, _you_ should be sitting down master Thomis." His tone and the look he gave Thomis left little doubt that he felt the matter was not open to discussion. "You can keep yourself busy by making sure that one," indicating Brendan with a nod, " does _not_ fall asleep."
[Laurelyn]
"I'm fine," the storyteller said.
[Keir]
Unwinding the blood-soaked rag Daron had used to bind the wound, he hissed when he saw it. "Had to pull it out did you, well child you've made a nasty job of it. Haven't you Big Folk ever heard of barbs?" From one of the many pouches he carried he produced a paper envelope and began sprinkling a pale yellow powder into the zagged gash. He bent low and sniffed at the wound, then pinched it shut as best he could. "Lucky, no poison and it's clean." His free hand snatched up one of the ant soldiers that continued to scurry about and he pressed it to the cut edges. ::Bite and hold:: he sent and the ant dutifully obeyed. One by one he put the ants in place and the wound was soon closed and wrapped in the bandages Thomis had provided. The process was repeated on her shoulder with Keir keeping up a steady stream of tsks and disapproving head nods. "There now, lie down and _don't_ move."
Turning his attention to Thomis he looked him in the eye respectfully. "We'll wait for the fire before pulling that out. It's not grating on the bone is it?" If it was he would have expected to see more signs of pain in Thomis' face but it was possible, even likely, that the man was inured to what would make a weaker soul scream in agony.
[Thomis]
"No, no grating," Thomis answered easily, having watched Master Keir at work with some amount of admiration. "I can wait, tend to the others first." He settled down and looked up to find Laurelyn approaching, her feet still bare from her dash after the Pup. "Good to see you again, Hillrover." And there might have been a slight sound of relief in his voice.
[Laurelyn]
"Good to see you too," Laurelyn answered - only her eyes showing her worry. She stopped for a moment to gauge Thomis's wounds before going for the wood for the fire.
[Daron]
Daron did a mental headcount of her traveling companions and their whereabouts as she complied with Master Keir's request (order?) to lie down. Her physical wounds throbbed, but they would heal, in time.
Master Keir was now attending to Thomis. Laurelyn was by the man's side, seemingly unhurt.. Off a little ways, Jacques ministered to the wounded Pup. Pierre...now, there was more than a physical wound paining him! Daron silently cursed her clumsiness; she could go over and comfort him, if not for those arrow wounds!
A particular absence stuck out like the proverbial thumb to Daron, however.
-Where is Rudolpho?-
The question echoed in her mind.
[Keir]
Lastly he tended to Brendan, feeling the man's forehead while his nimble fingers examined his skull. "You must come from naturally hard-headed stock bandit for there doesn't appear to be any lasting damage. Of course, only time will tell but I think you'll live long enough to hang." He stood and looked around for the others of their party.
[Brendan]
Brendan gave Keir a strange look and sat up slightly.
"Who said anything about bandits?" he asked, then bit back his words, finally seeing all the carnage around him.
His mouth gaped silently for a moment, then he tried to stand up. Gravity and a mild concussion pulled him back down to the ground, however.
His dark (were they brown or jet black?) eyes met with Daron's for a moment. It was a moment in which many things passed through his mind... and left, leaving nothing but silence. He caught his breath and looked away, feeling much embarrassed.
[Daron]
An involuntary cry escaped Daron's lips as her green eyes met Brendan's extremely dark ones. Swirling, confused thoughts--of death, love, passion, heaven...and an angel with braided hair--radiated from him. Her eyebrows rose in surprise at the last one.
-Does he know something I _don't_? Faith, but I _feel_ halfway there, myself...-
[Brendan]
"I, uh, I have to get going." he said, trying to stand once more. His head throbbed in a way that told him the ugly little thing had made a wrong diagnosis, but there was little he could do about it.
[Thomis]
"As do we all," Thomis agreed quietly. "But none of us are moving anytime soon, and you look barely able to stand." He turned back to Laurelyn, and nodded towards the jester, who had pulled Fiend from his traveling bag. "I believe the youngest member of our troop may have been injured also."
[Laurelyn]
"I better check," Laurelyn said, feeling torn between seeing to Fiend and getting the fire started. "Once I get the fire going," she added. Keir had said they needed the fire for Thomis and it looked like Jacques was comforting the pup.
Laurelyn began to gather branches - checking to find the dry tinder. Once she had plenty of wood she arranged them for the fire.
The fire itself took a couple of minutes to get lit, but when she had it going she went headed over to Beast. The big hunter shifted restlessly and snorted at the storyteller - expressing her distress. "Easy," Laurelyn said, running her hands over the horse's neck - checking for wounds as she went to her saddlebags.
Laurelyn's brow furrowed when she saw the barbed bolts in the saddlebag and the scrapes beneath. She glanced worriedly over to where Jacques held Fiend. She quickly and angrily pulled the bolts free so they couldn't scrape Beast further. After throwing the bolts into the brush Laurelyn dug out a small pan, some bandages and her first aide bag. From her saddlebag she got her waterbottle. As she headed back to the fire she passed Jacques. Gently she patted the whimpering Fiend and handed the jester a flask and bandages from the medical pack. "I'll have some hot water going soon," she said. "Here's some alcohol to start to clean his wounds."
The storyteller got the pan filled with water and on the fire. Then she went to kneel by Thomis. She set the bag beside him and since she was newly arrived on the scene, asked, "What got hit?"
[Jacques]
Taking the flask from Laurelyn with a nod, he carried the whimpering Fiend over to his pony.
By some kind of miracle, the shaggy animal was unharmed, though a crossbow bolt protruded from the saddle, and another had passed clean through one of the saddlebags leaving a hole. It looked at him with quiet, untroubled eyes.
Jacques looked back with eyes that reflected blood and death. The pony snorted and took a pace back.
"Stupid animal," Jacques cursed, and grabbed for a saddle bag to pull out a blanket.
The pony rolled its eyes at him as he snagged the blanket and spread it across the ground. Fiend whined miserably as he was lowered to the ground with the injury facing upwards. It was quite deep, but didn't appear to be too serious.
Jacques pulled the stopper from Laurelyn's flask and took a sniff.
"This is gonna hurt, boy," he offered, "so we may as well get prepared." With that, he took a healthy swig from the flask, and sighed gratefully. Then he pulled a clean piece of bright green cloth from a pocket in his uniform and dabbed a few drops of alcohol onto it.
Fiend yelped in renewed pain as the alcohol met the wound, and continued to whine and howl as Jacques cleaned the gash thoroughly.
"Told you it'd hurt."
[Rudolpho]
The young boy, still in panther form, silently parted the underbrush and stepped through into the clearing. There was a small fire going and people seemed to be in various stages of tending or having wounds tended. He sat on his haunches and waited to be noticed. He hoped people had noticed his switch to panther form before the battle, but it had happened to quickly for him to be sure that they had. Still he needed to be sure, since he did not want to go through the invisible grinder that Jacques seemed to be capable of becoming. Not knowing how long it would take for someone to see him, he began to groom himself.
[Keir]
His thoughts focused on tending to the wounded, Keir failed to see the panther. The Hortus healer was pleased to see the fire and the rapidly warming water but noticed that Laurelyn moved stiffly and he believed he saw her wince as she knelt beside Thomis. "Thank you mistress. When it gets hot but not yet boiling please take a cloth and soak master Thomis's wound." Thomis had been wise to leave the bolt in but the dried blood would have to be softened before the bolt could be removed else it would tear his flesh. He also noted the tear in the shoulder of Thomis' shirt and berated himself for missing it earlier.
[Thomis]
The Oath-bound made no move in reaction when the panther appeared at the far side of the clearing, but he did watch carefully as the creature groomed itself. "My arm," he answered Laurelyn, and paused as the pup's whimpering grew momentarily louder. "And this in my leg." He indicated the bolt in his thigh with a slight wave of one hand. "Yourself?"
The big cat continued to clean himself, Brendan settled back onto the ground and seemingly lapsed into unconsciousness and Daron looked around worriedly for Rudolpho. Who had disappeared shortly before the arrival of the panther.
[Laurelyn]
"I'm a little sore," Laurelyn said, "But I don't think I took more damage beyond a bruised rib." At least she hoped that was all the sharp pain that came with movement meant. She looked back towards Master Keir and said, "I'll check on the water."
"Hold tight for a moment," she said to Thomis as she started to get up. A angry, nervous snort from Beast made her look up - and freeze as she saw the panther.
[Thomis]
Thomis' brown eyes narrowed as he stared at the large cat, and then he smiled slightly. "I believe young Rudolpho may have some talents similar to those of Kitrina Tvyvar," he murmured softly to Laurelyn. "Aside from their common insatiable curiosity."
[Laurelyn]
"I hope that's the case," she said quietly - looking from the resting panther to her nervous horse.
[Keir]
Keir was about to attend to Pierre, though the lad's injury didn't appear too serious, certainly not as serious as the impression the bard's facial expressions reflected, when he realized Brendan's eyes were closed."Arg, no no no!" he cried as he lept into action. He pried Brendan's eyelids up as he called for him to wake up. He was certain the man had a concussion and if he couldn't wake him soon he might never wake again. Not that he cared about the fate of one he thought a likely bandit or at least a wastrel but once he took a patient his honor demanded he give it his all. From the glassy blank stare he knew simply shaking or splashing water in his face probably wouldn't work but he tried them anyway. Finally despairing of his efforts he tossed a pouch to Laurelyn. "When it boils, fix everyone some tea from that. I'll be back soon as I can." The last he yelled as he ran towards the stream.
[Laurelyn]
Laurelyn grabbed the pouch. The urgency of Keir's voice got her to her feet - despite the presence of the panther. "Hold on, Beast," she murmured under her breath as she headed for the fire.
[Thomis]
It looked like Master Keir was going to have his hands full tending to the injured among their group. Thomis shifted, wincing slightly at the continued pain in his leg; not the worst injury he had ever had, and he could easily wait while Keir tended to the more seriously hurt Daron and Brendan.
[Daron]
Daron heard Master Keir's talk of tea as if through wads of cotton wool. It brought back memories of the bitter concoctions her father brewed the times she and Dillon hurt themselves during the intense defensive training Brion Innes put his children through.
"No, don't want no nasty tea, Pa," she murmured
almost sleepily. "M'fine..."