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Author Topic: The End of Hlint's Quarantine  (Read 299 times)

Rowana

The End of Hlint's Quarantine
« on: May 19, 2011, 02:02:39 am »
Each person stepped through the portal within the tower, it's magic slipping them from one continent to another at the behest of the taller man in blue. First the halfling lass, then the heavily covered person and finally the man in blue arrived in the wilds. The terrain was a bit choppy and even crag-like in some places marking their location somewhere near the town of Fort Llast. Once a home to one of them, another picked up on their location through other senses and the third recognized much of the sounds that gave a general placement.

 They followed their collective knowledge to find the road. It was quite a bit farther off than he intended, but it was easily reached. Their, not uncalled for, paranoia kept them quiet and moving quickly. It was with a fair amount of relief that they rendezvoused with the awaiting guard from Llast. There was brief discussion about arrangements and concerns about the road ahead. With some assistance from the man and the volunteering guard, the small and covered individual mounted a shared horse. The guard wrapped one arm protectively around her waist though not with any overt familiarity, letting his hand rest on the pommel of his saddle and join the other hand on the reigns.
 
 Along with a scout from the small group of guard, the halfling moved out along the side of the road, scouting in advance of the moving horses. The deep blue coat (for indeed that was what one noticed first) filtered into the horses on foot, his expression somewhat grim. He stretched his senses outward to 'feel' for anything that may give them advanced warning of attack. So too did the woman ahorse, her focus already dwindling somewhat from their long walk. She slouched forward, grateful for the support of the horse beneath her. At some point in the walk, she settled into this steed's gait, different from her own horse's movements but similar all the same.
 

 ********
 

 The halfing slipped down the side of the road in the tall grasses quickly. Every so often she paused, stilling herself in every way and listening. Though the risk was great her small frame was at her command. Her breathing stilled and her heart slowed leaving only the surrounding sounds of nature around her. Though some might laugh at such a notion, the halfling could literally hear the bugs burrowing in the ground just below her feet and the fluttering wings of a bird twenty paces of the tall folk off. Her eyes remained open but she did not bother turning her head for a few moments as she took it all in.
 

 ********
 

 The guard knew this road well, he'd grown up in this area and made more than a few trips between the two Trelanian towns. That those worthless bits of refuge were potentially stalking his road made him angry. He was too disciplined to let it dull his wit or attention however. He took his service to Queen and Country seriously, likely more seriously than some. If he bothered to think about it, he might have realized that this was why he was assigned to this mission.
 
 He paused and crouched low in the grasses, peering around above the grasses, then through them, then down at ground, his mind picking out every detail that he came across looking for signs of passage. He lingered here, taking the opportunity to be extra certain the way was clear until a glance backward told him the riders were close enough for him to move forward again. Grimly he darted forward again, slipping through the grasses with little displacement.
 

 ********
 

 The unit pushed this way, not galloping ahead, but making a fast walk toward Hlint with their sensitive and important delivery. It was within sight of Hlint's smoke plumes that the scouts the smaller scout caught the sound of leathered wings on the breeze. She gave a whistle she knew the Trelanian troops used to signal over distances and pelted back to the main group. He was only a few steps behind her at first but her speed left him far behind quickly. She insinuated herself up to the lead guard's horse and spoke quietly, alerting him to the danger. A few moments later, the other scout returned looking worried and already preparing his bow. The double riding guard quickly began to secure his passenger to his horse, brooking no argument from her. He quietly shushed her and told her that if he fell she was to stay on his horse, that he would guard her to his last breath as much as the other soldiers around her. No stranger to battle herself, she bit down on her words and nodded. Instead she turned her attention to her spellweaving, granting as many as she could her protections.
 
 Behind her the man in the blue coat drew in the Al'Noth around him then around her, their forms shimmering and then winking out of sight. He moved then to offer additional protections to their guards, including the halfling woman, giving her the extra advantage of mage sight as well. The halfling placed herself near the double riding horse and scanned the terrain for the first signs of their assailants. The rest of the group began to spread out on the road a bit. Picking up on the tension of their riders, the horses began to shudder their coats and flick their tails, though the remained firmly in place. Their ears pointed forward than to the side at times, listening for what danger their riders sensed. Eventually, it came on wings. Two at first, winged lizard men with terrifying quickness. They screamed their attack, perhaps attempting to spook the horses and break their formation. Despite the effort the trained horses stood their ground, awaiting commands from their riders. In a moment that is known by many fighters to be both too long and too short, the battle begins. When the drach creatures are within range, bows let loose. Most of the shots go wide of the agile creatures. What connects seems to scatter uselessly off of their hide and armors. Bows are thrown to the ground and the sound of blades sliding against scabbards with a hiss telegraphs to all the guards ready weapon.
 
 Soon the moment of slow build is passed and the first spell is loosed, a force of magic snatching one of the fliers out of the air and dropping him on the ground. Glowing missiles begin to fly free toward the downed beast while the small halfling bats the second one away from the horse and riders with a scary quickness. The riders swing only when the second creature comes into range, not breaking form for now. Another volley of missiles streaks forward from the mages and the first creature seems downed. The second screams in rage and dives into snatch at the mounted mage though only gets a bit of steel for his trouble.
 
 “The rest approach!” the halfling woman calls out in a surprisingly loud voice, her ears picking up the sound of stomping feet. With in moments the battle is in a fever pitch. Screams both animal and human a like fill the air, echoing hollowly over clangs of metal on metal. The horses reared and struck at their foes, swords swung through the air, missiles, magical and not, flew through the air in both directions. The skirmish lasted a mere ten minutes, but the change in the world is clear as the victors stood panting over the bodies of the fallen, living and not.

The taller of the two scouts makes his way through the enemies, both granting mercy and protecting their flanks in small movements. The other scout makes her way granting mercies with bindings and salves for those on her own side. The mounted mage remains so, but the man who had sworn himself and his steed to protect her lay on the ground a distance off, tossed there by the flying assailant. Another guard held the rains of the steed and soothed him, refusing to allow the woman to dismount or take the steed to the rider.


 “It isn't safe for you to go miss,” he told her firmly if regretfully, “We will see to them as soon as possible. For now you stay on this horse and we ride like the Pits open up to swallow us whole.” Tearfully the woman nodded in acceptance but her eyes lingered on the man who she'd known only for a half a day.

 Soon the remaining members of the group mounted up, the man in the blue coat refusing the newly freed mount. As well, the smallest scout refused her mount, much to the incredulous reaction of the offering guard. After a moment he just shrugged, remembering the glimpses of her he'd caught in battle. The man in blue shimmered and winked from sight once again, then the halfling scout did as well. Both nodded to each other as he brought mage sight to her eyes again. The rest laid themselves down low against the necks of their horses and kicked them into movement. The steeds jumped to, more than happy to pelt off and away from the scent of blood and death. They alternated full gallop and fast walks the rest of the way, the blue mage and the halfling scout managing, somehow, to keep pace with them, though known mostly by the few check ins they gave every little while after a round of scouting.
 
 Soon the wooden palisade of Hlint sprouted from the horizon. Not long after they were at Hlint, and the group split at the base camp outside of the town's walls. Within moments the precious cure was delivered to Elohanna's arms for delivery on the other side of the walls. She vanished within the walls after a long look at the those on the outside and a brief nod of thanks to those who watched her move in. A red headed woman lead the man in blue and the small scout away to properly tend their injuries.
 
 A hoot of excitement whipped through the base camp as the news spread. There was a Cure.
 

Rowana

Re: The End of Hlint's Quarantine
« Reply #1 on: May 19, 2011, 03:40:36 am »
It was a motley crew that rode off from Xora's tower to the west. The wagons stretched out more both ridden and escorted. The first thing anyone would notice is the aging man with his large, unsheathed sword sitting atop the lead wagon. Day in and day out he glared somewhat into their surroundings, defying anyone to steal what precious stores he guarded. Another glinting figure moved through the wagon line, fully armored and stalking the paces with her katana's drawn. She was a terrible beauty, menacing but wearing a sweet smile as she sang quietly.
 
 Wagon drivers, mounted riders and a few others mix in together against the more outstanding of their crew. Their scouts blend into the woods, checking in every so often with reports before vanishing again. The first day passes with little incident besides a slight difference of opinion between a driver and his team. In the morning of the second day however, a sharp call wakes the camp as the man toting the large blade sets to defending the camp from a rather nasty lizard man.

 The camp stirs quickly, mages and clerics hastily throwing up protections around to any they can reach. The lizard man, soon more accurately identified as a drach of some kind, is joined by others of his kind, descending on the groggy camp like the vultures on fresh kill. The battle is fierce and loud, a booming voice striking at the very ears of their opponents. Without time to properly protect their melee trained members, the mages stick to the targeted spells, dropping opponents with blazing missiles. The scouts, descend upon the drach, angling for every advantage. Blood colors ground and vision alike and soon the sounds of the dead and dying fill the air.

 Despite her best efforts to reach him in time, the priestess lets out a cry of alarm as the youngest of them drops to the ground with a well aimed club from behind. The drach fixes her with a maddened glare, his jaws fixed in a sinister grin that makes her blood run cold. The heat of his hatred as he advances makes her suddenly very aware of her lack of protections. Whether drawn by her cry or something else, arrows soon start filling the back of the creature from two different directions. He turns to face his new assailants only to quite literally eat steel. The small woman spits on the falling creature.

 “Pick on someone your own size you bully!” she shouts as the creature sinks to the ground. The priestess turns a grateful eye on her name sake before dashing over to the young man bleeding out on the ground. Slowly the defenders are bolstered by the magics of their group, and they push back against their attackers. After twenty minutes the last of the attackers turns and flees. Jointly the two mages summon up the heaviest of their magics to fling at the now distanced creatures, dropping them to the ground with cries of terror and pain.

 The lot stands, straightening themselves and taking stock of themselves for a moment, the shock of the attack settling in just briefly before they steel themselves against their natural reactions. The youngest staggers up with the assistance of the priestess in blue. She leads him over closer to the fire pit and the other woman gets him something to drink while the priestess moves to help the rest, though a call quickly gets her attention as one of the elves finds a dead driver in their midst. She drops to her knees beside the man and checks him over to be certain then with a grimace she lays her hands on him and begins to whisper something that only her Goddess hears. After several moments the man begins to choke and cough on his own fluids. The priestess's eyes flutter open to gaze upon the man who's life was returned by Lucinda. He is bewildered and perhaps in shock, she decides, but will steady soon.
 
 Despite really needing to stay and care for their wounded the group packs up their small camp and get the wagons moving again. The spellweavers are given time to rest in shifts over the rest of the day, and the older scout insists the younger spends at least the morning seated and watching from the last wagon, covering their tail.
 
 Though the day passed without further incident, they pushed as hard as their mounts could safely travel in the cold and uncertain terrain. Again they set up a night camp, this time cold and dark. Their watch was paired this time, not putting anything to risk.
 
 Again in the grey hours of the morning their camp was besieged, this time in greater numbers. Readied for it, the group fared better, but another of the drivers lost his life by the end of the battle. Once again, Lucinda graced him with the return of his life. As they collected their camp one of the scouts threw back a tarp with a harsh oath.
 
 “What, in the darkest Pits, are we guarding?” He peeled back another layer and found sacks of grain. He narrowed his eyes as he stared down. The older man hefted his sword and moved to peer over the young man's shoulder.

 “Looks like those black-hearted scalies are bound and determined to starve out those Hlinties. Wonder what's so *censored* important...” he grunted. While the discovery gave them pause, most shrugged and got to moving out the wagons. The day was much the repeat of the last, resting in shifts and one scout keeping his eyes on the skies while near the wagons at all times. The teams are again pushed hard over the terrain and the camp cold.

 The expected attack doesn't come in the wee hours of the morning, and gratefully the camp is fairly well rested (as well as one can in a cold camp, with cold food, sleeping on cold lumpy ground). They set to with better spirits, though remaining wary of the absence of their attackers. The day passes with relative ease, but the shout goes up again just before the horses are tied off for the evening.
 
 A little travel weary the group forums up with a bit of sloppiness that might be expected after such a string of days as the work to defend their wagons and horse teams that the drachs seem after this time. Again they are a mess of magics and blades, screams of life and death. Just as they felt they were getting the upper hand a terrible shriek falls from above and the hearts of several sink into their boots.

 “DRAGON!” Shouts Shiff and Chakar in unison. The raving beast comes into view angling for two of the horses, saliva and something green dripping from it's maw. A string of curses fall from more than one set of lips as they press their way into the panicking teams who can't take the stress of the hungry dragon and begin to stamped off. Unable to really chase them down the group throws everything they have at the dragon. At one point Omer's spells strike true, blasting a hole in the dragon's hide for the rest to exploit as they can reach. For his trouble Omer is backhanded from his pace and flung like a ragdoll into a tree. The sickening crack that echos around the area tells the rest not to even bother disengaging the dragon until its dead. Shouts and calls ricochet off of the trees as they try to fell the beast. Eventually, seeming to know his fate if he stays, the dragon begins to lift himself up in the air.

 “I don't think so!” Shiff says through gritted teeth, swinging for all he's worth. “Everything you've got!” He calls out to his fellows. They pour the last of their strength into the effort but the dragon manages to clear their camp. Leaf shakes his head slowly, grinding his own jaw back and forth slowly.

 “I don't think he's going to make it far,” Charlie says with a shake of his head. “He's loosing a lot of.... blood.”

 “You ain't seen them buggers on that poison,” Shiff mutters darkly, “They ain' got no sense an their bodies don' seem te know they've gone'n died...” Leaf nods a bit and Charlie grimaces.

 “I still don't think he's gonna make it far,”Charlie says quietly to himself, a hidden frown directed at the others. The scene around them begins to move at normal speed, some how having slowed down for all when the dragon had arrived. Soon Omer is returned to their numbers. The teamsters begin whistling and calling, setting off to follow the spooked horses. The whole lot spend several hours dragging around the forest collecting horses, though one's body is found broken and mangled and another lost to the unknown.

 When each is allowed their time to sleep, they sleep like the dead, Sala offering kind word that the dragon didn't do more harm than it had. They take stock in the morning and find some of their horses unfit for immediate travel, but the teamsters begin working them right away to get their 'nerves' back together. Though two horses shorter, one of the wagon's cargo was partially taken, scattered and spilled. While the horses are tended the scouts move out to check the area again. At the same time Shiff and Chakar repack and tie down the goods in the affected wagon.
 
 For whatever reason the attacks pause over the next couple days and eventually they find their way to North Point. Mystified but not ungrateful, the troop make their way to the portal and get their cargo and selves through. Hasted travel ensues and a couple of weeks later, they find themselves welcomed  (in so much as they ever welcome strangers) INTO Hlint where the cure for the taint seems to have been successfully spread. The food supplies are shared out with some considerable relief, the delivery mission, an apparent success.
 

 

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