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Unforgiving lands - Now in hiatus - Details at last post
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<blockquote data-quote="Cerulean_Wings" data-source="post: 3966033" data-attributes="member: 55060"><p>Happy new year to all of you! <img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite1" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":)" /> Enjoy the longest chapter so far!</p><p></p><p>Chapter 4 </p><p></p><p><strong>Tenacious assailants</strong></p><p></p><p>After leaving the Barbarian's corpses for carrion to take over, the pair of warriors resumed their trip, their steps accelerated slightly by the realization that they were being targeted by someone who wanted them dead. They didn't make a fire at night, as they usually did, at Gilliam's insistence. They also spent longer amounts of time guarding the place when the other was resting. Their wounds hadn't been lethal, since a couple of bandages to patch up the two men was enough to ease the pain and ensure a swift healing of the cuts they had received. </p><p></p><p>The next morning they left camp even faster than they had settled down, once again at Gilliam's suggestion for “extra caution”. They walked at a brisk pace for half a day, stopping only for a swift lunch of cold rations. The surrounding area was now hilly terrain only, with not much green to cover the patches of ground. They could see the Gray Spears to the north more closely, but they wouldn't be getting up close to them, as their goal lay more to the east, near the river. They had only half a day left of traveling, and by Vincent's estimation they should arrive at the hermit's shack by twilight. </p><p></p><p>“Hey, Gilliam” Vincent called as he looked upwards at the clear sky. </p><p></p><p>“Hmm?” Gilliam replied, obviously lost in thought a moment ago.</p><p></p><p>The squire lowered his gaze back to the road “Back then, when you though me dead...” he began to say.</p><p></p><p>Gilliam merely looked sideways at his companion “What of it?”. </p><p></p><p>“You called me 'friend', as you shook me left and right”.</p><p></p><p>“You must have heard incorrectly, with your weak condition and all” replied the mercenary dismissively with a wave of his hand.</p><p></p><p>“Oh” Vincent nodded slowly and looked at Gilliam “I see, maybe I was hallucinating...”</p><p></p><p>“Indeed. You're the one I must protect from harm, no more”.</p><p></p><p>Silence fell upon the two, as it usually did after this type of conversation. This time, Vincent was the one to fill the absence of words with his own.</p><p></p><p>“May I call you 'Gil'?”.</p><p></p><p>Gilliam's body stiffened and he turned his head abruptly to look at Vincent straight in the eyes. “What?”. </p><p></p><p>“I said 'Gil'. It's short for your name, 'Gilliam'” the elf explained with a smile.</p><p></p><p>There was a pause before Gilliam's answer became manifest. “I don't see the purpose of-” he began, turning his head back to the path ahead.</p><p></p><p>“If you don't like it, that's fine by me. I was merely asking, that's all” Vincent said with a shrug. “Some people I know call me 'Vince', so I don't mind if you call me by my short name”.</p><p></p><p>Gilliam sighed “I had thought that House Kashtar was more serious and formal”.</p><p></p><p>“A common misconception!” the squire retorted happily “My House teaches respect, honor, and many other virtues, but it doesn't by any means tell its members that formality is a virtue” he rubbed his chin and added “At least not all the time”.</p><p></p><p>The bodyguard considered the proposal for almost a minute, apparently having to weight the positives and negatives of agreeing to it.</p><p></p><p>“Very well, call me as you wish” he agreed, not entirely sure if he was agreeing to something more in the process.</p><p></p><p>“Great. I'm glad you like the idea, Gil” Vincent responded cheerfully.</p><p></p><p>Gilliam couldn't explain it with words, but he felt something deep inside of himself that he hadn't felt in some time after he heard the name 'Gil'. It was a sensation that he had experienced, back then when he was surrounded by those he loved. And it seemed like he had almost forgotten what friendship felt like.</p><p></p><p>The remaining of the journey was spent in more frequent chatter, the squire and the bodyguard exchanging more than nods and 'hmm's. They didn't encounter any other assailants on the road, and by twilight they had reached the Rainbow River, its beauty not fully appreciated due to the lack of sunlight, which was said to make it look multicolored. Fifty feet from the river's bank was an old wooden shack, apparently devoid of any life. Shadows were long and imposing, but with the day waning they still had plenty of room to expand to swallow the land in darkness.</p><p></p><p>Stopping thirty feet or so from the cabin, Gilliam rubbed his chin warily as he considered the situation at hand.</p><p></p><p>“I don't like this” he said with suspicion.</p><p></p><p>“It's not the most beautiful house I've seen, either, but you should understand that hermits usually don't have much resources to-”.</p><p></p><p>Gilliam cut him off. “I'm talking about the fact that it looks abandoned, aside from the other fact that we should approach it with daylight on our side”.</p><p></p><p>Vincent didn't seem to comprehend the meaning behind the suggestion. “Gil, I'm sure the hermit won't mind if we wake him up”.</p><p></p><p>Instead of punching him in the face, Gilliam turned to face the squire, and with a constrained voice he explained “Think, Vince, think! Barbarians attacked us a day ago and now we are by the hermit's house, no light to be seen and the darkness to cover potential assailants” he paused, gesturing towards the area that they came from “We should retrace our steps and wait for daybreak”</p><p></p><p>“Nonsense, Gil!” Vincent replied, sounding baffled by this idea. “Let us go to the hermit, deliver the scroll, and be done with things. If there would be assassin's, we would have seen them by now, don't you think?”. </p><p></p><p>Gilliam wasn't sure what bothered him the most: the elf's naivety or his carefree attitude. How in the Hells had this man survived three years as a squire? “You don't get it, do you?” Gilliam replied tiredly, sliding one hand down his face.</p><p></p><p>But the elf wasn't there to listen to his words! Instead, Vincent had started moving towards the shack, fearless of a potential attack. He didn't try to remain stealthy, or least become more stealthy, with his plate armor clanking all the way as he moved down the hill.</p><p></p><p>Gilliam cursed, loudly, before trotting after his companion in order to get ahead of him.</p><p></p><p>“Why don't you listen to me?! If you're not more cautious, you could end up dead!” he whispered angrily at Vincent.</p><p></p><p>The squire merely smiled and shrugged. “Why be cautious when there's nothing to fear? You're being paranoid, Gil”. They had reached the shack by now, and they got to see the small building more closely: it was a one-room shack made entirely out of wood, with a window next to the entrance. The inside was pitch dark, with no sources of illumination on sight, like a candle or a lamp.</p><p></p><p>Since there wasn't a door, only an old curtain, Vincent walked in as he moved the curtain aside. Gilliam resisted the urge to violently drag him back by the collar of his armor and followed suit. </p><p></p><p>“Seems like no one's home” Vincent said to himself.</p><p></p><p>They were standing in the middle of the place and they could barely make out a couple of the shack's items: a weathered bed, its sheets torn apart; a one-inch candle with wax spilled nearby; finally, they spotted a three-legged wooden table, threatening to collapse at the slightest pressure applied to it. There was also a strange smell in the place, which could be attributed to the lack of hygiene. </p><p></p><p>“See? Nothing to-” Vincent began to say, but had to stop talking as he took another step and slipped, falling face-down on the wooden floor, which cracked at the pressure.</p><p></p><p>“Easy there” Gilliam bent down to help the squire to get back up. He didn't seem to be hurt, save for a small bruise on the side of his face.</p><p></p><p>“Sorry, I slipped on the oil puddle over there...” the elf commented absentmindedly as he slowly got up with Gilliam's assistance.</p><p></p><p>Once he was standing up once again, Gilliam looked at Vincent with a raised eyebrow “Oil?”</p><p></p><p>Vincent nodded and pointed at the ground. “Yeah, oil, right there”. </p><p></p><p>Gilliam looked in the direction he had pointed, surprised to see that it was effectively the liquid Vincent had named. The mercenary tensed, but Vincent didn't seem to notice. </p><p></p><p>“Now, why would a hermit have-”.</p><p></p><p>“NOW!” a rough voice interrupted from the outside, just as two flasks that contained a luminous orange substance flew into the shack from the window and the curtain. The contents of both vials were, in fact, alchemist's fire, for upon impacting the ground they sprayed surreal-looking flames. They quickly caught on to the oil that had actually been placed practically everywhere within the small house. </p><p></p><p>“I told you it was an ambush, but you wouldn't listen!” Gilliam screamed as he desperately looked around for a potential exit other than the main entrance. There seemed to be none, and the flames didn't waste a second in expanding throughout the floor around the two men. The fire began to lick at the curtain's base, which would mean that their only escape route was about to be turned into a flaming barrier.</p><p></p><p>“We can't waste time arguing now, Gil, we need to escape” Vincent said, somehow maintaining a serene expression and tone of voice. “I'll lead the way” he added, grabbing his spear from his back and assuming a throwing stance, aiming for the curtain.</p><p></p><p>Smoke began to envelop both mercenary and squire, and they had to hold their breath to prevent a coughing fit “What in the Hells are you doing?” Gilliam shouted as he saw his companion about to throw his only means of defense.</p><p></p><p>“Why, creating an escape” was the only response he got before Vincent's spear flew forwards, cutting a clean hole through the curtain. The departure of the weapon was followed by a cry of pain coming from the outside of the shack.</p><p></p><p>Before Gilliam could ask how Vincent knew there was an enemy waiting for them to come out, the squire had already begun to run forwards, bracing his iron shield tightly in front of him. As soon as Vincent made it outside the shack's walls he was greeted by a spear point other than his own, wielded by a half-elf wearing a leather armor. The weapon's pointy end collided with the squire's shield and thus was Vincent able to avoid getting skewered by it.</p><p></p><p>Not intending to become fuel for the flames, the bodyguard followed suit and abandoned the fiery shack as well. As he did, Gilliam noticed a second figure, this one a human, clutching Vincent's spear shaft, trying to remove the weapon from his leg. The man's own spear was near him, by the floor. Gilliam didn't miss the fact that had Vincent not thrown his weapon before exiting the shack, that spear would have impaled him the moment he walked out. </p><p></p><p>Without wasting another second, Gilliam went for the injured man and took a solid hold of the spear that had hurt him “Here, let me help you with that, mate” he offered as he pulled out with a mighty yank, drawing a cry of pain from the man as well as the weapon. Gilliam tossed it at Vincent without even looking.</p><p></p><p>The squire's “Thanks Gil” was all he needed for a confirmation. The mercenary crossed his arms downwards, grabbed the hilts of his twin swords and drew them forth, ready to spill blood.</p><p></p><p>Vincent was confident he could take the half-elf down, now that he had his weapon back, its familiar feeling comforting him as he grasped the wood firmly, with his shield in front of his chest, guarding him. The half-elf didn't strike again with his own spear, however, but merely stood his ground, smiling. The source of his triumphant look became obvious when he heard a longbow's 'twang' behind him and an arrow struck him on his back, piercing through the fine plate. The wound wasn't very painful, thankfully, but the next shot could be deadlier.</p><p></p><p>The elf didn't have the time to look behind him and see where the archer could've fired from, since the shack was empty save for the flames, so he decided to focus on the threat at hand.</p><p></p><p>“Beware the sniper!” he warned Gilliam while stepping forward and making the spear's tip descend from above upon the half-elf. His enemy wasn't wielding a shield, but he bore the spear two-handedly, lifting it horizontally and deflecting the downward stab with ease. This left Vincent's guard weakened, and his opponent took notice as he stabbed with his own spear like a lightning. But the squire had predicted the incoming counter-attack, and he simply had to turn his shield to the right to avert the weapon from running him through his groin. </p><p></p><p>Gilliam heard the warning just fine, but he was unable to do much on the matter, since his own opponent had lifted his fallen weapon up from the ground with a foot and was ready to fight, wounded as he was on the leg. Gilliam slashed twice quickly, more to measure the man's skill than to actually do some damage, and judging by both parries he could assume that he had seen his fair share of combat. </p><p></p><p>The man countered the mercenary's twin blades with a quick jab, which was in turn defeated by a downward cross-guard. Gilliam went in for the kill with both swords held forward like pincers, but had to stop in mid-thrust as a threatening growl emerged to his side. </p><p></p><p>Within a split second, he hit the ground hard, being pinned down by a furry four-legged creature. It was all he could do to prevent the wolf from biting his neck and ending his life, using both hands to push the wolf back. Both swords lay to his sides, useless now that he had a rather hungry animal on top of him. Then a spear head came from above, forcing him to turn sideways, wolf and all, making the spear punch through the ground instead of his arm.</p><p></p><p>“Vincent!” Gilliam cried out in a strained way, clearly seeing that he wouldn't last long if he stayed like that.</p><p></p><p>But unfortunately for him, Vincent had other things to worry about. The half-elf he was battling kept him on the defense constantly, never leaving enough time for the squire to retaliate fully. He had been able to deflect most blows, the one he had missed was no more than a cut on his leg, and he felt like his energies were leaving his body already. Maybe resting after the long trek would have been a good idea, after all. </p><p></p><p>Just when Gilliam called his name, Vincent heard a canine growl from his left, indicating that a new wolf that was coming for him. He lowered his center of gravity by bending his knees and holding his ground the best he could, bracing for impact. The wolf jumped and the half-elf yelped in surprise as it brought him down to the hard ground.</p><p></p><p>Vincent was unable to fathom why the enemy's wolf attacked one of his masters, but he wasn't about to complain. He thanked the wolf, ignoring the fact it couldn't understand him and began moving to the right in order to assist his fallen companion. </p><p></p><p>An arrow zipped right in front of him, bouncing off his chest plate harmlessly and informing the squire that there was still the matter of the archer. </p><p></p><p>“I will be your opponent, bastard of House Kashtar!” yelled a lone figure atop the shack's roof. The flames had consumed most of the house's inside and the ceiling was about to follow the same fate. The archer knew this, for he casually jumped down from the wooden roof and landed merely five feet from Vincent.</p><p></p><p>“What quarrel have you with my house, assassin?!” Vincent shouted, outraged. “We are merely delivering a message to the hermit!”.</p><p></p><p>The archer was dressed in the same fashion as the other two, save for the dark green cloak that enveloped him. Vincent also noticed that the man's bow wasn't the usual size and seemed like it would require a great deal of effort to pull back for shots. Judging by the two shots that he had fired, it seemed like he had no problems handling the great bow.</p><p></p><p>“Do you really have to ask for the reason you will die tonight, Kashtar lapdog?” the archer retorted, knocking an arrow as he did. He didn't take the time to aim, or at least it didn't look like he needed to. The arrow departed from the great bow in an instant, its goal no less than Vincent's throat. The squire didn't have the time to pull up his shield or jump to the side, resorting to turning his neck on an uncomfortable angle instead. He heard the missile zoom by his ear as he felt the sharpness of the arrowhead cutting the skin of his neck, but no more.</p><p></p><p>Vincent was about to sigh in relief when he noticed the sniper about to fire another shot at him. </p><p></p><p>“How many can you dodge?”. </p><p></p><p>The answer was 'two', for Vincent used his loss of balance to his advantage, opting to fall to the side completely instead of returning to an upwards position. He fell into a roll and came back up on his feet, spear and shield ready. </p><p></p><p>“You're finished in close combat, archer!” the squire of House Kashtar announced proudly, moving in the few feet that kept them apart and thrusting the spear at the assailant. When up close, Vincent noticed that the archer was an elf, like him, but some decades older. Still, the fact that they shared the same race didn't stay his hand from angling the weapon for deadly intent. </p><p></p><p>The archer didn't appear preoccupied by a head-to-head clash. He hooked Vincent's spear with his bow, twisting it around into an awkward angle away from himself and thus avoiding the lethal hit. Using the momentum of the twisting maneuver, the elf completed a full circle and brought the bow sideways, like a baseball bat, smacking Vincent straight on the face, leaving a big bruise around his forehead.</p><p></p><p>“You were saying?”.</p><p></p><p>“D-damn you!” Vincent cursed, more than a bit stunned by the impact. He tried to regain his focus, but failed miserably as he stumbled back several steps. If the archer shot another arrow at him, he would be gone from this world.</p><p></p><p>“Get the archer, boy, get him!” came a familiar voice from behind. There was a feral growl, followed by a curse as the disloyal wolf bit his master on the leg. The sound of footsteps came after as Gilliam charged for the archer, who was busy asking the wolf to obey his commands.</p><p></p><p>Vincent used the chance to confirm his suspicions, looking over his shoulder to see that, indeed, the mercenary had slain both wolf and human assailants, all by himself. The half-elf's throat was but a gaping hole, the surrounding area splattered with his blood, clearly the handiwork of the rebellious wolf. </p><p></p><p>But the leader of the 'pack' was far from finished. He kicked the dog away from him and managed to draw forth another arrow right as Gilliam pounced upon him, swords flashing from the flames of the shack. The great bow twanged, two blades sliced the air at the same time and Vincent didn't know what outcome to expect.</p><p></p><p>Gilliam restrained a cry of pain as the arrow penetrated the fine links of his enchanted chain shirt on the left side of his chest. He brought the bastard swords down with all his might, but the impact had cost him his concentration and he only slashed the empty space where the archer had been a second ago. The mercenary had to drop the assault and clutch the arrow with one hand, trying to pry it out from his chest.</p><p></p><p>“I'll handle him, Gil, stay back” Vincent asked, seeing his friend and protector severely damaged. He couldn't tell if the arrow had reached his heart and he knew that there was little to be done if that happened. Gritting his teeth, Vincent sprinted as best as he could in his heavy armor after the elven sniper, bringing his shield tight to his chest on the way.</p><p></p><p>The opposing elf had his leg wounded after the wolf had attacked him, preventing the swift escape that he clearly desired for. As Vincent's spear came at him, he attempted the same whirling maneuver with his bow that he performed earlier, but this time his bow was rebuked by the squire's shield, bashing it aside. </p><p></p><p>Time seemed to freeze for an instant, the fraction of a second before the spear's head went through the archer's chest and dealt an end to his life.</p><p></p><p>Any satisfaction from the kill was evaporated for Vincent when he heard Gilliam's grunt of pain behind. Desperate, the squire dropped the spear that was embedded in the archer's corpse altogether and ran after the mercenary, who was on his knees at the time, still trying to remove the missile from his chest. The wolf was by his side, seeming to understand his predicament, looking quite saddened.</p><p></p><p>“Hold still, Gil, allow me to pull” he asked as he moved Gilliam's hand away from the arrow shaft and tried to take it off himself. He was about to yank it out when he realized that it had already gone deeply enough to reach the man's heart. </p><p></p><p>“Gil, your heart...” Vincent tried to say in a weak voice that seemed more distant by the second. It was pointless, he thought: hermit or not, he had allowed his protector to get killed for him, to take an arrow that was intended for him. How could he live with this weighing his own soul for the rest of his life?</p><p></p><p>More than anything, Vincent Ender wanted to cry and shout at the Gods to spare his friend's life. He wished that a divine entity could descend from the heavens and deliver Gilliam from death's door, but he knew that such a thing wouldn't happen.</p><p></p><p>“Here, let me take care of your friend”.</p><p></p><p>Vincent blinked twice before attempting to focus his mind back to reality and figure out that the soft female voice had come from the side. He looked over and there she was, a battered woman wearing blackened and gray rags that covered her whole body somewhat. She had messy brown hair that was covered in dust and her face indicated she must have been in her mid forties. Her slightly pointed ears indicated that she was of elven and human descent. </p><p></p><p>The squire had no idea where she had come from, but he felt like it wasn't wrong for her to be there. Her thin hands were placed on the arrow wound as she seemed to be... chanting, Vincent realized, in a low steady rhythm. Seconds passed and a soft orange glow emerged from her open palms and moved over onto Gilliam's chest, filling the hole that the arrow had created. Suddenly the arrow came out on its own accord as the amber energy moved into the wound and filling it entirely. Vincent couldn't believe his eyes, but somehow the energy had mended the wounded completely and the only remnant of it was the broken chain links.</p><p></p><p>Gilliam opened his eyes right then and looked at the lady who had saved him “Thank you” he managed to whisper weakly, clutching the spot where the arrow had pierced him with his hand. </p><p></p><p>Vincent was overjoyed that his bodyguard was brought back with this... magic, or whatever it was, but he had the feeling that something wasn't quite right at the same time. He looked at the woman and asked “Where did you come from?” then looked around for a brief moment. “And what did you do with the wolf?”.</p><p></p><p>The woman turned to face Vincent, appearing perplexed by the question.</p><p></p><p>“What do you mean, good elf? I am the wolf”.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Cerulean_Wings, post: 3966033, member: 55060"] Happy new year to all of you! :) Enjoy the longest chapter so far! Chapter 4 [B]Tenacious assailants[/B] After leaving the Barbarian's corpses for carrion to take over, the pair of warriors resumed their trip, their steps accelerated slightly by the realization that they were being targeted by someone who wanted them dead. They didn't make a fire at night, as they usually did, at Gilliam's insistence. They also spent longer amounts of time guarding the place when the other was resting. Their wounds hadn't been lethal, since a couple of bandages to patch up the two men was enough to ease the pain and ensure a swift healing of the cuts they had received. The next morning they left camp even faster than they had settled down, once again at Gilliam's suggestion for “extra caution”. They walked at a brisk pace for half a day, stopping only for a swift lunch of cold rations. The surrounding area was now hilly terrain only, with not much green to cover the patches of ground. They could see the Gray Spears to the north more closely, but they wouldn't be getting up close to them, as their goal lay more to the east, near the river. They had only half a day left of traveling, and by Vincent's estimation they should arrive at the hermit's shack by twilight. “Hey, Gilliam” Vincent called as he looked upwards at the clear sky. “Hmm?” Gilliam replied, obviously lost in thought a moment ago. The squire lowered his gaze back to the road “Back then, when you though me dead...” he began to say. Gilliam merely looked sideways at his companion “What of it?”. “You called me 'friend', as you shook me left and right”. “You must have heard incorrectly, with your weak condition and all” replied the mercenary dismissively with a wave of his hand. “Oh” Vincent nodded slowly and looked at Gilliam “I see, maybe I was hallucinating...” “Indeed. You're the one I must protect from harm, no more”. Silence fell upon the two, as it usually did after this type of conversation. This time, Vincent was the one to fill the absence of words with his own. “May I call you 'Gil'?”. Gilliam's body stiffened and he turned his head abruptly to look at Vincent straight in the eyes. “What?”. “I said 'Gil'. It's short for your name, 'Gilliam'” the elf explained with a smile. There was a pause before Gilliam's answer became manifest. “I don't see the purpose of-” he began, turning his head back to the path ahead. “If you don't like it, that's fine by me. I was merely asking, that's all” Vincent said with a shrug. “Some people I know call me 'Vince', so I don't mind if you call me by my short name”. Gilliam sighed “I had thought that House Kashtar was more serious and formal”. “A common misconception!” the squire retorted happily “My House teaches respect, honor, and many other virtues, but it doesn't by any means tell its members that formality is a virtue” he rubbed his chin and added “At least not all the time”. The bodyguard considered the proposal for almost a minute, apparently having to weight the positives and negatives of agreeing to it. “Very well, call me as you wish” he agreed, not entirely sure if he was agreeing to something more in the process. “Great. I'm glad you like the idea, Gil” Vincent responded cheerfully. Gilliam couldn't explain it with words, but he felt something deep inside of himself that he hadn't felt in some time after he heard the name 'Gil'. It was a sensation that he had experienced, back then when he was surrounded by those he loved. And it seemed like he had almost forgotten what friendship felt like. The remaining of the journey was spent in more frequent chatter, the squire and the bodyguard exchanging more than nods and 'hmm's. They didn't encounter any other assailants on the road, and by twilight they had reached the Rainbow River, its beauty not fully appreciated due to the lack of sunlight, which was said to make it look multicolored. Fifty feet from the river's bank was an old wooden shack, apparently devoid of any life. Shadows were long and imposing, but with the day waning they still had plenty of room to expand to swallow the land in darkness. Stopping thirty feet or so from the cabin, Gilliam rubbed his chin warily as he considered the situation at hand. “I don't like this” he said with suspicion. “It's not the most beautiful house I've seen, either, but you should understand that hermits usually don't have much resources to-”. Gilliam cut him off. “I'm talking about the fact that it looks abandoned, aside from the other fact that we should approach it with daylight on our side”. Vincent didn't seem to comprehend the meaning behind the suggestion. “Gil, I'm sure the hermit won't mind if we wake him up”. Instead of punching him in the face, Gilliam turned to face the squire, and with a constrained voice he explained “Think, Vince, think! Barbarians attacked us a day ago and now we are by the hermit's house, no light to be seen and the darkness to cover potential assailants” he paused, gesturing towards the area that they came from “We should retrace our steps and wait for daybreak” “Nonsense, Gil!” Vincent replied, sounding baffled by this idea. “Let us go to the hermit, deliver the scroll, and be done with things. If there would be assassin's, we would have seen them by now, don't you think?”. Gilliam wasn't sure what bothered him the most: the elf's naivety or his carefree attitude. How in the Hells had this man survived three years as a squire? “You don't get it, do you?” Gilliam replied tiredly, sliding one hand down his face. But the elf wasn't there to listen to his words! Instead, Vincent had started moving towards the shack, fearless of a potential attack. He didn't try to remain stealthy, or least become more stealthy, with his plate armor clanking all the way as he moved down the hill. Gilliam cursed, loudly, before trotting after his companion in order to get ahead of him. “Why don't you listen to me?! If you're not more cautious, you could end up dead!” he whispered angrily at Vincent. The squire merely smiled and shrugged. “Why be cautious when there's nothing to fear? You're being paranoid, Gil”. They had reached the shack by now, and they got to see the small building more closely: it was a one-room shack made entirely out of wood, with a window next to the entrance. The inside was pitch dark, with no sources of illumination on sight, like a candle or a lamp. Since there wasn't a door, only an old curtain, Vincent walked in as he moved the curtain aside. Gilliam resisted the urge to violently drag him back by the collar of his armor and followed suit. “Seems like no one's home” Vincent said to himself. They were standing in the middle of the place and they could barely make out a couple of the shack's items: a weathered bed, its sheets torn apart; a one-inch candle with wax spilled nearby; finally, they spotted a three-legged wooden table, threatening to collapse at the slightest pressure applied to it. There was also a strange smell in the place, which could be attributed to the lack of hygiene. “See? Nothing to-” Vincent began to say, but had to stop talking as he took another step and slipped, falling face-down on the wooden floor, which cracked at the pressure. “Easy there” Gilliam bent down to help the squire to get back up. He didn't seem to be hurt, save for a small bruise on the side of his face. “Sorry, I slipped on the oil puddle over there...” the elf commented absentmindedly as he slowly got up with Gilliam's assistance. Once he was standing up once again, Gilliam looked at Vincent with a raised eyebrow “Oil?” Vincent nodded and pointed at the ground. “Yeah, oil, right there”. Gilliam looked in the direction he had pointed, surprised to see that it was effectively the liquid Vincent had named. The mercenary tensed, but Vincent didn't seem to notice. “Now, why would a hermit have-”. “NOW!” a rough voice interrupted from the outside, just as two flasks that contained a luminous orange substance flew into the shack from the window and the curtain. The contents of both vials were, in fact, alchemist's fire, for upon impacting the ground they sprayed surreal-looking flames. They quickly caught on to the oil that had actually been placed practically everywhere within the small house. “I told you it was an ambush, but you wouldn't listen!” Gilliam screamed as he desperately looked around for a potential exit other than the main entrance. There seemed to be none, and the flames didn't waste a second in expanding throughout the floor around the two men. The fire began to lick at the curtain's base, which would mean that their only escape route was about to be turned into a flaming barrier. “We can't waste time arguing now, Gil, we need to escape” Vincent said, somehow maintaining a serene expression and tone of voice. “I'll lead the way” he added, grabbing his spear from his back and assuming a throwing stance, aiming for the curtain. Smoke began to envelop both mercenary and squire, and they had to hold their breath to prevent a coughing fit “What in the Hells are you doing?” Gilliam shouted as he saw his companion about to throw his only means of defense. “Why, creating an escape” was the only response he got before Vincent's spear flew forwards, cutting a clean hole through the curtain. The departure of the weapon was followed by a cry of pain coming from the outside of the shack. Before Gilliam could ask how Vincent knew there was an enemy waiting for them to come out, the squire had already begun to run forwards, bracing his iron shield tightly in front of him. As soon as Vincent made it outside the shack's walls he was greeted by a spear point other than his own, wielded by a half-elf wearing a leather armor. The weapon's pointy end collided with the squire's shield and thus was Vincent able to avoid getting skewered by it. Not intending to become fuel for the flames, the bodyguard followed suit and abandoned the fiery shack as well. As he did, Gilliam noticed a second figure, this one a human, clutching Vincent's spear shaft, trying to remove the weapon from his leg. The man's own spear was near him, by the floor. Gilliam didn't miss the fact that had Vincent not thrown his weapon before exiting the shack, that spear would have impaled him the moment he walked out. Without wasting another second, Gilliam went for the injured man and took a solid hold of the spear that had hurt him “Here, let me help you with that, mate” he offered as he pulled out with a mighty yank, drawing a cry of pain from the man as well as the weapon. Gilliam tossed it at Vincent without even looking. The squire's “Thanks Gil” was all he needed for a confirmation. The mercenary crossed his arms downwards, grabbed the hilts of his twin swords and drew them forth, ready to spill blood. Vincent was confident he could take the half-elf down, now that he had his weapon back, its familiar feeling comforting him as he grasped the wood firmly, with his shield in front of his chest, guarding him. The half-elf didn't strike again with his own spear, however, but merely stood his ground, smiling. The source of his triumphant look became obvious when he heard a longbow's 'twang' behind him and an arrow struck him on his back, piercing through the fine plate. The wound wasn't very painful, thankfully, but the next shot could be deadlier. The elf didn't have the time to look behind him and see where the archer could've fired from, since the shack was empty save for the flames, so he decided to focus on the threat at hand. “Beware the sniper!” he warned Gilliam while stepping forward and making the spear's tip descend from above upon the half-elf. His enemy wasn't wielding a shield, but he bore the spear two-handedly, lifting it horizontally and deflecting the downward stab with ease. This left Vincent's guard weakened, and his opponent took notice as he stabbed with his own spear like a lightning. But the squire had predicted the incoming counter-attack, and he simply had to turn his shield to the right to avert the weapon from running him through his groin. Gilliam heard the warning just fine, but he was unable to do much on the matter, since his own opponent had lifted his fallen weapon up from the ground with a foot and was ready to fight, wounded as he was on the leg. Gilliam slashed twice quickly, more to measure the man's skill than to actually do some damage, and judging by both parries he could assume that he had seen his fair share of combat. The man countered the mercenary's twin blades with a quick jab, which was in turn defeated by a downward cross-guard. Gilliam went in for the kill with both swords held forward like pincers, but had to stop in mid-thrust as a threatening growl emerged to his side. Within a split second, he hit the ground hard, being pinned down by a furry four-legged creature. It was all he could do to prevent the wolf from biting his neck and ending his life, using both hands to push the wolf back. Both swords lay to his sides, useless now that he had a rather hungry animal on top of him. Then a spear head came from above, forcing him to turn sideways, wolf and all, making the spear punch through the ground instead of his arm. “Vincent!” Gilliam cried out in a strained way, clearly seeing that he wouldn't last long if he stayed like that. But unfortunately for him, Vincent had other things to worry about. The half-elf he was battling kept him on the defense constantly, never leaving enough time for the squire to retaliate fully. He had been able to deflect most blows, the one he had missed was no more than a cut on his leg, and he felt like his energies were leaving his body already. Maybe resting after the long trek would have been a good idea, after all. Just when Gilliam called his name, Vincent heard a canine growl from his left, indicating that a new wolf that was coming for him. He lowered his center of gravity by bending his knees and holding his ground the best he could, bracing for impact. The wolf jumped and the half-elf yelped in surprise as it brought him down to the hard ground. Vincent was unable to fathom why the enemy's wolf attacked one of his masters, but he wasn't about to complain. He thanked the wolf, ignoring the fact it couldn't understand him and began moving to the right in order to assist his fallen companion. An arrow zipped right in front of him, bouncing off his chest plate harmlessly and informing the squire that there was still the matter of the archer. “I will be your opponent, bastard of House Kashtar!” yelled a lone figure atop the shack's roof. The flames had consumed most of the house's inside and the ceiling was about to follow the same fate. The archer knew this, for he casually jumped down from the wooden roof and landed merely five feet from Vincent. “What quarrel have you with my house, assassin?!” Vincent shouted, outraged. “We are merely delivering a message to the hermit!”. The archer was dressed in the same fashion as the other two, save for the dark green cloak that enveloped him. Vincent also noticed that the man's bow wasn't the usual size and seemed like it would require a great deal of effort to pull back for shots. Judging by the two shots that he had fired, it seemed like he had no problems handling the great bow. “Do you really have to ask for the reason you will die tonight, Kashtar lapdog?” the archer retorted, knocking an arrow as he did. He didn't take the time to aim, or at least it didn't look like he needed to. The arrow departed from the great bow in an instant, its goal no less than Vincent's throat. The squire didn't have the time to pull up his shield or jump to the side, resorting to turning his neck on an uncomfortable angle instead. He heard the missile zoom by his ear as he felt the sharpness of the arrowhead cutting the skin of his neck, but no more. Vincent was about to sigh in relief when he noticed the sniper about to fire another shot at him. “How many can you dodge?”. The answer was 'two', for Vincent used his loss of balance to his advantage, opting to fall to the side completely instead of returning to an upwards position. He fell into a roll and came back up on his feet, spear and shield ready. “You're finished in close combat, archer!” the squire of House Kashtar announced proudly, moving in the few feet that kept them apart and thrusting the spear at the assailant. When up close, Vincent noticed that the archer was an elf, like him, but some decades older. Still, the fact that they shared the same race didn't stay his hand from angling the weapon for deadly intent. The archer didn't appear preoccupied by a head-to-head clash. He hooked Vincent's spear with his bow, twisting it around into an awkward angle away from himself and thus avoiding the lethal hit. Using the momentum of the twisting maneuver, the elf completed a full circle and brought the bow sideways, like a baseball bat, smacking Vincent straight on the face, leaving a big bruise around his forehead. “You were saying?”. “D-damn you!” Vincent cursed, more than a bit stunned by the impact. He tried to regain his focus, but failed miserably as he stumbled back several steps. If the archer shot another arrow at him, he would be gone from this world. “Get the archer, boy, get him!” came a familiar voice from behind. There was a feral growl, followed by a curse as the disloyal wolf bit his master on the leg. The sound of footsteps came after as Gilliam charged for the archer, who was busy asking the wolf to obey his commands. Vincent used the chance to confirm his suspicions, looking over his shoulder to see that, indeed, the mercenary had slain both wolf and human assailants, all by himself. The half-elf's throat was but a gaping hole, the surrounding area splattered with his blood, clearly the handiwork of the rebellious wolf. But the leader of the 'pack' was far from finished. He kicked the dog away from him and managed to draw forth another arrow right as Gilliam pounced upon him, swords flashing from the flames of the shack. The great bow twanged, two blades sliced the air at the same time and Vincent didn't know what outcome to expect. Gilliam restrained a cry of pain as the arrow penetrated the fine links of his enchanted chain shirt on the left side of his chest. He brought the bastard swords down with all his might, but the impact had cost him his concentration and he only slashed the empty space where the archer had been a second ago. The mercenary had to drop the assault and clutch the arrow with one hand, trying to pry it out from his chest. “I'll handle him, Gil, stay back” Vincent asked, seeing his friend and protector severely damaged. He couldn't tell if the arrow had reached his heart and he knew that there was little to be done if that happened. Gritting his teeth, Vincent sprinted as best as he could in his heavy armor after the elven sniper, bringing his shield tight to his chest on the way. The opposing elf had his leg wounded after the wolf had attacked him, preventing the swift escape that he clearly desired for. As Vincent's spear came at him, he attempted the same whirling maneuver with his bow that he performed earlier, but this time his bow was rebuked by the squire's shield, bashing it aside. Time seemed to freeze for an instant, the fraction of a second before the spear's head went through the archer's chest and dealt an end to his life. Any satisfaction from the kill was evaporated for Vincent when he heard Gilliam's grunt of pain behind. Desperate, the squire dropped the spear that was embedded in the archer's corpse altogether and ran after the mercenary, who was on his knees at the time, still trying to remove the missile from his chest. The wolf was by his side, seeming to understand his predicament, looking quite saddened. “Hold still, Gil, allow me to pull” he asked as he moved Gilliam's hand away from the arrow shaft and tried to take it off himself. He was about to yank it out when he realized that it had already gone deeply enough to reach the man's heart. “Gil, your heart...” Vincent tried to say in a weak voice that seemed more distant by the second. It was pointless, he thought: hermit or not, he had allowed his protector to get killed for him, to take an arrow that was intended for him. How could he live with this weighing his own soul for the rest of his life? More than anything, Vincent Ender wanted to cry and shout at the Gods to spare his friend's life. He wished that a divine entity could descend from the heavens and deliver Gilliam from death's door, but he knew that such a thing wouldn't happen. “Here, let me take care of your friend”. Vincent blinked twice before attempting to focus his mind back to reality and figure out that the soft female voice had come from the side. He looked over and there she was, a battered woman wearing blackened and gray rags that covered her whole body somewhat. She had messy brown hair that was covered in dust and her face indicated she must have been in her mid forties. Her slightly pointed ears indicated that she was of elven and human descent. The squire had no idea where she had come from, but he felt like it wasn't wrong for her to be there. Her thin hands were placed on the arrow wound as she seemed to be... chanting, Vincent realized, in a low steady rhythm. Seconds passed and a soft orange glow emerged from her open palms and moved over onto Gilliam's chest, filling the hole that the arrow had created. Suddenly the arrow came out on its own accord as the amber energy moved into the wound and filling it entirely. Vincent couldn't believe his eyes, but somehow the energy had mended the wounded completely and the only remnant of it was the broken chain links. Gilliam opened his eyes right then and looked at the lady who had saved him “Thank you” he managed to whisper weakly, clutching the spot where the arrow had pierced him with his hand. Vincent was overjoyed that his bodyguard was brought back with this... magic, or whatever it was, but he had the feeling that something wasn't quite right at the same time. He looked at the woman and asked “Where did you come from?” then looked around for a brief moment. “And what did you do with the wolf?”. The woman turned to face Vincent, appearing perplexed by the question. “What do you mean, good elf? I am the wolf”. [/QUOTE]
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