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<blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 7232785" data-attributes="member: 143"><p>I enjoy writing villains almost as much as I do the heroes. Even in just his first few scenes Kurok has gotten a lot more complicated than my original outline, and there are some more twists to come...</p><p></p><p>* * * </p><p></p><p>Chapter 88</p><p></p><p>Bredan let out a sigh of relief as he relieved himself into a knot of bushes. It was not an easy procedure in armor, complicated by the fact that he’d been on the back of a horse for most of the morning.</p><p></p><p>When he was done he turned and made his way quickly back to where he’d left the animal that Haran had lent him. The horse was cropping weeds but at his approach its head came up and it peered at him with what Bredan thought was a suspicious look. The two had not gotten along especially well for the journey thus far. At least the pain in his legs and back had started to ease up. Bredan had ridden a horse before, but not for days on end, and it was hardly something he was used to.</p><p></p><p>“It’s easy for you,” he told the animal as he unfastened the reins from the branch where he’d left them. “You can go whenever you want.”</p><p></p><p>He was able to mount without difficulty, though not without a grimace as the movement awakened a fresh twinge in his thighs. His pause hadn’t taken very long, but the last of the wagons had already rumbled past, the caravan making good time despite the poor quality of the road. They had already risen out of the plains that surrounded the city, moving into hills that caused the road to weave and curve, sometimes bending almost back on itself as it navigated particularly difficult obstacles. But as Bredan glanced up at the mountains ahead, a line of peaks that had drawn closer with each passing day since they had left Adelar, he knew that their progress would be slowing even further soon enough.</p><p></p><p>His mount—he hadn’t given the animal a name yet—carried him swiftly past the line of wagons, the horse nodding its head as if mocking the lesser beasts pulling the vehicles. The four wagons each had a four-horse team, and each was piled high with supplies and gear.</p><p></p><p>“Did you have a nice piss?” Glori yelled out as he rode past. Harvin, the old driver beside her on the wagon seat, let out an amused snort. All of Haran’s drivers were like him, men as old and gnarled as these hills, but they all knew their business and they’d escaped anything worse than minor delays as the inevitable parts broke or horses threw shoes. Bredan figured that most of the young men were probably all off with the Prince and his men, hunting down Murgoth’s invading army. He responded to Glori’s comment with a rude gesture and rode on.</p><p></p><p>On the next wagon, the driver looked tiny in contrast to the man seated next to him. Quellan looked even more imposing in his new armor, the suit of half-plate giving the half-orc a warrior’s mettle. They had been lucky to find a suit that would fit him. The armorer hadn’t been that clear about where he’d gotten it, but the subtle signs of wear and recent repairs suggested that its previous owner might not have fared so well as the armor. Even with the damage it had cost most of Quellan’s and Kosk’s shares from the Northpine treasure combined. Bredan had settled for having his own mail repaired. Quellan had offered to yield him the plate, but even if they’d had time to adjust it to fit his rather smaller frame he preferred his chain. He was used to it, and it reminded him of his father.</p><p></p><p>Quellan waved and offered him a smile as Bredan rode past. Orrek, the driver, seemed to shrivel in his seat, and Bredan wondered if Quellan knew the effect his smile had on the man. He hoped not; the cleric was sensitive to the impression he had on people.</p><p></p><p>The next two wagons had Haran’s men riding sentry beside the drivers, the guards clad in long leather coats covered in metal studs, with crossbows cradled in their laps with bolts close at hand. Bredan wasn’t surprised not to see Kosk; the dwarf spent as much time walking as riding on the wagons, and yet somehow he seemed to have no difficulty keeping up even in the straighter stretches where the wagons could build up a bit of speed.</p><p></p><p>One corner of the tarp that protected the bed of the lead wagon had started to come loose from its moorings, and Bredan pointed it out to Willem, the guard, as he drew up alongside the front of the wagon. That wagon carried perhaps the most important cargo: among the tools and other supplies it carried were several dozen bow staves and crossbows wrapped in oilcloth and packed in crates and a number of barrels full of carefully-wrapped bundles of arrows and bolts.</p><p></p><p>And then he was past, ahead of their little caravan and the fountain of dust raised by the wagons. Haran and the three soldiers he’d brought with him were at the front of the column, just far enough ahead that they could spot any danger before it threatened the wagons. The leader of the expedition was riding close to his scout, the only non-human among the men he’d brought from Adelar. Gilanis was a wood elf, his shaggy mountain pony a good five hands shorter than the bigger horses the other men rode, but the animal was sure-footed and managed slopes that Bredan might not have tried even on foot.</p><p>Haran turned as Bredan rode back up to the vanguard and grinned at him. Gilanis rode on ahead, no doubt to resume his scouting duties. The elf seemed to cover twice as much ground as the rest of them each day, but neither he nor his mount complained. “You holding up okay?” Haran asked.</p><p></p><p>“I think my blisters are getting blisters, but I’m all right,” Bredan said. “I thought I was in good shape from working in the forge, but riding all day takes some getting used to.”</p><p></p><p>“Different muscles,” Haran said. “You could always take a spell in the wagons. I bet your friend wouldn’t mind riding.”</p><p></p><p>The look when he glanced back made it clear who he was talking about, but Bredan still had to suppress a laugh as the image of Quellan upon his horse flashed in his mind. It would serve the animal right for their initial troubles, Bredan thought. “I’m sure she’s good at it,” he said ruefully. Glori hadn’t complained when Haran had told them that he only had one extra horse, or when he’d offered it to Bredan, but there had been something in her eyes that suggested that she was entirely aware of the effects a few days in the saddle would have on him. “You had said that there’s a village up ahead?”</p><p></p><p>“Camber’s Rise,” Haran said. “It’s the last settlement of note between us and the mountains. It’s been evacuated, but at least there’s shelter.”</p><p></p><p>“Evacuated?” Bredan asked. “I thought that the goblins hadn’t raised this far west.”</p><p></p><p>“They haven’t yet, but all of the smaller settlements in the foothills were encouraged to evacuate. There are too many hamlets and small holds in these hills to protect.”</p><p></p><p>“So that’s why Adelar seemed so crowded,” Bredan said. “How long can the Baron keep them all fed?”</p><p></p><p>“Long enough for the army to confront Murgoth’s legions and wipe them out,” Haran said. He sounded confident, but out here, alone in the shadow of the mountains with just a few wagons and a handful of armed men, Bredan felt less certain.</p><p></p><p>“From Camber’s Rise it should take us three days to reach the Silverpeak,” Haran continued. “We’ll need to keep an eye out, as there are always dangers this far from the plains country, but if we’re lucky we’ll be through these mountains and arriving at the valley before you know it.”</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Lazybones, post: 7232785, member: 143"] I enjoy writing villains almost as much as I do the heroes. Even in just his first few scenes Kurok has gotten a lot more complicated than my original outline, and there are some more twists to come... * * * Chapter 88 Bredan let out a sigh of relief as he relieved himself into a knot of bushes. It was not an easy procedure in armor, complicated by the fact that he’d been on the back of a horse for most of the morning. When he was done he turned and made his way quickly back to where he’d left the animal that Haran had lent him. The horse was cropping weeds but at his approach its head came up and it peered at him with what Bredan thought was a suspicious look. The two had not gotten along especially well for the journey thus far. At least the pain in his legs and back had started to ease up. Bredan had ridden a horse before, but not for days on end, and it was hardly something he was used to. “It’s easy for you,” he told the animal as he unfastened the reins from the branch where he’d left them. “You can go whenever you want.” He was able to mount without difficulty, though not without a grimace as the movement awakened a fresh twinge in his thighs. His pause hadn’t taken very long, but the last of the wagons had already rumbled past, the caravan making good time despite the poor quality of the road. They had already risen out of the plains that surrounded the city, moving into hills that caused the road to weave and curve, sometimes bending almost back on itself as it navigated particularly difficult obstacles. But as Bredan glanced up at the mountains ahead, a line of peaks that had drawn closer with each passing day since they had left Adelar, he knew that their progress would be slowing even further soon enough. His mount—he hadn’t given the animal a name yet—carried him swiftly past the line of wagons, the horse nodding its head as if mocking the lesser beasts pulling the vehicles. The four wagons each had a four-horse team, and each was piled high with supplies and gear. “Did you have a nice piss?” Glori yelled out as he rode past. Harvin, the old driver beside her on the wagon seat, let out an amused snort. All of Haran’s drivers were like him, men as old and gnarled as these hills, but they all knew their business and they’d escaped anything worse than minor delays as the inevitable parts broke or horses threw shoes. Bredan figured that most of the young men were probably all off with the Prince and his men, hunting down Murgoth’s invading army. He responded to Glori’s comment with a rude gesture and rode on. On the next wagon, the driver looked tiny in contrast to the man seated next to him. Quellan looked even more imposing in his new armor, the suit of half-plate giving the half-orc a warrior’s mettle. They had been lucky to find a suit that would fit him. The armorer hadn’t been that clear about where he’d gotten it, but the subtle signs of wear and recent repairs suggested that its previous owner might not have fared so well as the armor. Even with the damage it had cost most of Quellan’s and Kosk’s shares from the Northpine treasure combined. Bredan had settled for having his own mail repaired. Quellan had offered to yield him the plate, but even if they’d had time to adjust it to fit his rather smaller frame he preferred his chain. He was used to it, and it reminded him of his father. Quellan waved and offered him a smile as Bredan rode past. Orrek, the driver, seemed to shrivel in his seat, and Bredan wondered if Quellan knew the effect his smile had on the man. He hoped not; the cleric was sensitive to the impression he had on people. The next two wagons had Haran’s men riding sentry beside the drivers, the guards clad in long leather coats covered in metal studs, with crossbows cradled in their laps with bolts close at hand. Bredan wasn’t surprised not to see Kosk; the dwarf spent as much time walking as riding on the wagons, and yet somehow he seemed to have no difficulty keeping up even in the straighter stretches where the wagons could build up a bit of speed. One corner of the tarp that protected the bed of the lead wagon had started to come loose from its moorings, and Bredan pointed it out to Willem, the guard, as he drew up alongside the front of the wagon. That wagon carried perhaps the most important cargo: among the tools and other supplies it carried were several dozen bow staves and crossbows wrapped in oilcloth and packed in crates and a number of barrels full of carefully-wrapped bundles of arrows and bolts. And then he was past, ahead of their little caravan and the fountain of dust raised by the wagons. Haran and the three soldiers he’d brought with him were at the front of the column, just far enough ahead that they could spot any danger before it threatened the wagons. The leader of the expedition was riding close to his scout, the only non-human among the men he’d brought from Adelar. Gilanis was a wood elf, his shaggy mountain pony a good five hands shorter than the bigger horses the other men rode, but the animal was sure-footed and managed slopes that Bredan might not have tried even on foot. Haran turned as Bredan rode back up to the vanguard and grinned at him. Gilanis rode on ahead, no doubt to resume his scouting duties. The elf seemed to cover twice as much ground as the rest of them each day, but neither he nor his mount complained. “You holding up okay?” Haran asked. “I think my blisters are getting blisters, but I’m all right,” Bredan said. “I thought I was in good shape from working in the forge, but riding all day takes some getting used to.” “Different muscles,” Haran said. “You could always take a spell in the wagons. I bet your friend wouldn’t mind riding.” The look when he glanced back made it clear who he was talking about, but Bredan still had to suppress a laugh as the image of Quellan upon his horse flashed in his mind. It would serve the animal right for their initial troubles, Bredan thought. “I’m sure she’s good at it,” he said ruefully. Glori hadn’t complained when Haran had told them that he only had one extra horse, or when he’d offered it to Bredan, but there had been something in her eyes that suggested that she was entirely aware of the effects a few days in the saddle would have on him. “You had said that there’s a village up ahead?” “Camber’s Rise,” Haran said. “It’s the last settlement of note between us and the mountains. It’s been evacuated, but at least there’s shelter.” “Evacuated?” Bredan asked. “I thought that the goblins hadn’t raised this far west.” “They haven’t yet, but all of the smaller settlements in the foothills were encouraged to evacuate. There are too many hamlets and small holds in these hills to protect.” “So that’s why Adelar seemed so crowded,” Bredan said. “How long can the Baron keep them all fed?” “Long enough for the army to confront Murgoth’s legions and wipe them out,” Haran said. He sounded confident, but out here, alone in the shadow of the mountains with just a few wagons and a handful of armed men, Bredan felt less certain. “From Camber’s Rise it should take us three days to reach the Silverpeak,” Haran continued. “We’ll need to keep an eye out, as there are always dangers this far from the plains country, but if we’re lucky we’ll be through these mountains and arriving at the valley before you know it.” [/QUOTE]
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