Private Tales Cut Your Teeth

[Cato]

"Should've just bloody shivved myself," cursed Cato, loud enough for anyone in earshot. Blood dripped from cut near his ribs and another on his left arm. Luckily neither were too deep but that wasn't likely to last long. He only had to look up to see a bunch of cunts hungry for his head. Glancing down to the corpses at his feet, the mercenary responded with a vicious grin; half dumb-confidence, half spite. Pretty much all one could do in this particular predicament.

He wasn't entirely sure where things had gone wrong but knew it ended with them getting fucking ambushed. They hadn't even got to the meeting point and bloody half the hired hands were already eating with the worms. Clearly someone had a mind to make sure this contract ended before it could even start. Cato was going to give a new smile to the enterprising bastard who came up with this little plan.

"Seems that scar was well-earned." The younger lad stood to his left and had said nary a word until now. Didn't mean fuck all to Cato. He was still standing, and that's what mattered. The mercenary captain looked around and counted eight swords with nearly twice as many ready to cut them down. Shit odds but not any worse than his usual dice.

Cato was about to shout orders when one of the eight finally cracked and charged forward.

"Fucking hells."

Asher Vanak-Duth

 

[Asher Vanak-Duth]

Asher's head was empty of a lot of things, but his limbs remembered this. How to push off a blade come from nowhere, how to fight for ground, how to hack away until there was clear space between us and them.

A lot of us had fallen, to get here. Zesed was on the ground, an arrow sticking out of his eye. Meirro and Fearn had taken down a few of the ambushers together, but they ended up on the ground, too. Genevre's blood soaked into the soil at Asher's feet. He was mindful not to let his boots suck into the black dirt. Might trip him up.

Eight swords circled. The mercenary captain spoke. To him, maybe because he was nearest.

"Axe to the head. Cost a whole lot to stitch up," Asher explained, voice flat, breath even. The long road of his two-handed blade led to the nearest threat. "Can't afford another one."

Nobody nearby had any axes, but there were about two dozen swords and spears and clubs, which would hurt just as much. The captain and what was left of their company might've stood a chance, but Moshe, one of their eight, got nervous and ran early. The space they'd fought so hard for closed in rapidly, and fell to clamor and blood again.

Asher's blade came up, slick, and cut through the shoulder of a man, heavy. He kicked away another, and threw the attacker's swing off balance. Steel fell, and someone else gutted them from behind. There wasn't enough room to maneuver. Us and them got all mixed up and hard to track. One moment, he was at an ally's back, the next he was dodging club-swing and dagger-stab from dizzying directions.

He raised his sword, cut and cleaved a limb. He needed find the captain again and make space, again. And soon, before they lost somebody else.

 

[Cato]

"Few can," he muttered as everything went to shit. Steel rang as Cato deflected an incoming blade. He lashed back with a quick strike of his own, sending the man to earthen floor. Blood-slicked hands struggled for grip as he set himself for the next bastard who wanted his head. His dual blades worked in unison to fend off a large fucking flail. Weren't many who used them these days but they could be bloody dangerous. Getting stabbed was one thing; half your skull being caved in was something else entirely. An experience that Cato was keen to avoid.

The mercenary captain fought like a man possessed, or really one who just didn't want to fucking die. He'd done the flail-wielding cunt but watched as another two took his place. Cato quickly sheathed his short blade, gathering mana to himself as he did so. The other bastards probably thought he was too tired and charged.

A wave of telekinetic energy slammed into them, practically ripping them out of their boots. The commotion caused a momentary lull in the chaos, allowing his remaining few to regroup. There weren't that many to start and even less now. Six. Six bloodied and unyielding swordhackers still stood. Cato would've swore if he had the energy. The blood-loss was starting to catch up with him and the last spell hadn't done him any better.

He turned to see that damned ugly bastard at his side and for some reason, it brought a grin to the mercenary's face. "Seems we've got the gods' luck, eh Axehead?" Not that Cato believed in any of those cunts. He sighed. "Like to say I got a plan that'll give us a chance..." The rest didn't need to be said. Miracles didn't happen in this business. You just needed to take as many of the bastards with you before finding the dirt.

Asher Vanak-Duth

 

[Asher Vanak-Duth]

Suddenly there was that space that they had so desperately been fighting for, brought on by a burst of some telekinetic magic. Useful. Dangerous, too, if one got caught on the wrong side of it. Asher made a note not to zone out around his new boss, if he could do that kind of stuff without so much as a warning.

Asher was panting through his teeth, so he didn't have the energy to scowl at the new nickname the Captain adorned him with.

If I die here, he's not gonna remember my name, the thought rang through him, bitter but sobering. It steeled the grip on his sword. No one will go back and tell Wend what happened to me.

Easy solution, that. He simply wouldn't die yet.

"Sorry, boss..." Asher said. He sucked in a big breath and held it, to slow his heart and let him talk. Let it out with cooling temper. "...but you must've noticed. They got no archers left. You know what that means--"

He slid one foot back. Looked for an opening as their attackers regrouped. Found it. Then Asher turned tail, and ran.

Cato

 

[Cato]

"Oh you dumb cu-" swore the mercenary as the other began to run in the opposite direction. Cato couldn't blame the man for wanting to run, but he was still going to shiv the scarred bastard if he caught up. Aye, there were no archers but most of their group was still spent. There were some problems you couldn't just outrun. Yet good ole' Cato found himself not a few steps behind Axehead.

Cato didn't hate it like some in the 'Shields, specially the Second. He wasn't a soldier and neither were the rest of his lot. Still, took either a madman or proper balls to make that call.

The mercenary swore as he plunged through all manner of fucking foliage. His litany was so extensive that he almost missed the telltale whistle. "Down!" he called to those around. Cato tossed himself to the ground as arrows whizzed over his head, surprised screams providing some satisfaction. He stood, blades drawn, to find there were no more pursuers remaining.

"This your fucking idea of a quiet meeting?" he yelled at the singular mounted man. Man was just a Baron but he stood tall on that steed. Cato was of a mind to drag him down but thought better of it. The Baron's men stepped forth from the shadows, ready to brook no offense.

"An unfortunate miscalculation captain..."

Asher Vanak-Duth

 

[Asher Vanak-Duth]

Asher found himself leading the pack through the woods. He really hoped he was leading, and not fleeing from a freshly estranged employer, anyway.

Coward that he was, his path was sure through the wood. He knew about low-hanging branches and slippery patches in the moss and not to step down too hard on the other side of a downed log on account of the tree wells that snapped ankles and ended lives early.

He didn't see the archers cloaked in underbrush, though. It was the captain's call and a wrenching fear in his gut that got him ducked behind a tree in time.

And it was one of the captain's men that pulled him back out of cover after it was all said and done. Asher's cloak was grabbed up by a broad, calloused hand, and his eyes ran up the length of that arm to a broad, ruddy face.

"You must be askin' to get gutted, boy, with a move like that. Those damn nerves of yours could've been the end of us -- hey! Are ya listening?"

Asher was not. His pale eyes had wandered down to the ground some ways off, where one of their pursuers crawled through the ferns, arrows sticking out of his shoulders and back.

"Look at me when I'm talkin' to you!"

The arrows' fletchings were white and yellow, the colors of the Baron's men. At the crawling man's side was a quiver with one arrow left unused. It was the only color on him, gear as unassuming as any woodland hunter's. But it took time to re-fletch arrows, and that one - that one was white and yellow.

"The people who attacked us. They look like they don't want to look like anyone, huh?" Asher mused. "Got the same arrows, though."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" The captain's man loosened his grip on Asher, confusion flicking across hard features, softening them none.

Asher remained passive. He twisted some in the merc's grasp to look at the captain up ahead, and the Baron who sat tall upon his horse. Not to mention the steely men who stood a line between the two. "We didn't get hired for a coup, did we?"

Cato

 

[Cato]

"Unfortunate is when I step in pig's shit. This was costly, real damned costly." Cato could have a bit of a temper. It tended to flare up when he was nearly turned into a pincushion. He'd seen his share of Barons, Councilors, Duchesses, and all manner of so-called nobility. They looked down at him, just as this man did now. Soft hands and a few yards of silk were the only difference between them and Cato. Yet they would never readily admit just how foul their desires could be. The mercenary and his fold were at least more honest in that regard.

He was due payment for services rendered. Nothing more. These greedy inbreds didn't own him. Too often they forgot that respect was not bought with coin. It only paid for patience up to a point. This river was dangerously close to being forded.

The scuffle behind Cato was just as like to set him off. He swiveled around to snap at Lure, one of the Third company's sergeants. The mercenary captain instead said nothing. Lure was a hard man, a soldier through and through. A rarity among his peers in the company. He knew the value of keeping the lads in line when things went to shit. Doubt wracked the sergeant's face which never boded well in the mercenary captain's experience.

Cato had yet to sheathe steel and wasn't keen on it just yet. He stepped back to see exactly what young Axehead was making a fuss about. A few quick glances was all it took. He cast a glance at the remaining 'Shields, most were wise enough to look sheepish. They should've spotted this 'fore some other sword-hacker. The Company had a reputation after all.

"The lad's got the right of it," Cato said as he turned back to the Baron. "This isn't what we agreed. Keeping your house clean is your business, not ours." They made a point of avoiding inter-family squabbles when possible. History showed they turned out too damned messy and usually unprofitable.

Sighing, the noble suddenly looked weary. "Our contract remains as discussed. Those hired are to augment the forces you see here and escort me safely to Keppler's Reach. It would seem Lord Jasper has become quite impatient, and is apparently rather persuasive as well." The Baron cast a glance towards the corpses of those who had served him. Cato knew enough to know that Jasper was the lord of the territory next to the Baron's own. The latter of which was making a trip back to his home, and thus a potentially easy target.

"The Reach then?"

Asher Vanak-Duth

 

[Asher Vanak-Duth]

Asher didn't know much about the nobles of the Marches, even before he'd gotten that axe to the head. The names being spoken sparked no meaning to him.

He knew the Reach, though. Big stone place on a hill, with lots of vantage points and scouts and very few places to approach unseen. Hard to hunt in that area without some lord's man getting up your tights. Was that going to work to their advantage, or against them? It was sort of hard to tell, now.

Crouching down over the dying 'bandit', Asher gathered up the arrows.

When he stood, he heard Lure step in behind him, with a scuffle and a swift slick of the knife. A hard mercy.

"Hey boss, I'm still employed, yeah?" Asher sniffed, and scrubbed a thumb across his nose, face obscured briefly by the handful of arrows grasped in his fist. He looked away from the Captain, nervous, but still spoke direct. "Cause, uh, I know a quieter way to the Reach. Poacher's path."

Cato

 

[Cato]

Cato took the Baron's silence as the go ahead and the two set about giving their respective orders. The 'Shields with him were still in decent shape, more exhausted than anything. Running for your life could be pretty damned tiring. This sort of action was right in the Third's wheelhouse. Ambushes, traps, and all the chaos that came with them. They knew that the next battle could be at any moment, which meant getting rest whenever the opportunity presented itself.

The mercenary captain went through his usual routine of checking his weapons. Everything still appeared to be in decent nick, or at least serviceable. His cohort's smithy was all but useless and Cato didn't like asking the others for favors. He needed to come into some coin real quick. Also maybe try avoid spending it all on the first brothel he stumbled across.

Axehead's voice pulled Cato away from that pleasant train of thought. The captain wore a bemused look as he turned to the young lad. "Contract's good till you drop dead, or decide to make a run for it. Now I wouldn't blame you one bit. Lure though, he's a stickler for these sort of things." Cato's words weren't really for scarred mercenary but for everyone else.

He slid steel smoothly into scabbard. "Well go on then Axehead, best get moving while we still have light." The captain noticed some disgruntled looks from the Baron's soldiers but they said nothing. It was clear the noble still needed the help of the mercenaries and wasn't going to make a fight out of this. Even a cocky bastard like the Baron just wanted to get home in one-piece.

Asher Vanak-Duth

 

[Asher Vanak-Duth]

The arrows Asher had collected were handed off to one of the Baron's archers. He held them out across the line as a peace offering, but a dirty look was all the thanks he got. Still, they were snatched up and returned to a quiver, and Asher was allowed to turn back to the trail where Cato stood.

"I'll be sure to keep the dying and running to a minimum, from now on," he responded. He glanced at the surly soldier called Lure, and wondered if that was the man's real name. "Prefer not to get stuck."

He stepped past the Captain and down the path, swinging his arm out in a pointing gesture that was too casual for a Lord's company. "This way."

---

After some time, Asher veered them off the wagon-worn road and down a faded hunter's path. Unmarked and dense with underbrush, the Lord's men followed slowly with their horses. Asher kept having to stop for them. Each time he did, he looked more nervous than before.

Eventually, the ground grew soft and the trees broke away into a foggy marshland. Across the uncovered stretch of land, the towers of Keppler's Reach sat perched like egrets upon the only high ground, elegant and pale.

Asher stopped one last time at the edge of the wood, crouching low into the underbrush. He motioned for the horses to stay back.

"It's open ground the rest of the way," he said, obvious as it was. "If someone beat us to the Reach, we're dead."

Cato

 

[Cato]

The mercenary captain couldn't help but smirk at Axehead's words, the lad was growing on him. You're not like to last long in this business if you scare easy. Now Cato didn't think of himself as the intimidating sort but that couldn't be said of the rest of the Third. Some had simply been hit on the head too many times. Others, well they would make your skin crawl properly. He wasn't rightly sure why half of them listened to him. Guess even the coldest killer got lonely from time to time. Cato just needed to give them throats other to slit than his own.

They continued on eventually reaching the poacher's path. This was like home to his lads, not so much for the Baron's men. Knights and those types, more concerned with the sheen of their plate. May have been a few serious fighters among them but best to leave it that. A few of the 'Shields made their usual gripes but Lure stamped it out pretty quick.

Then they arrived at the marsh and the mood turned properly sour. "If that's the case, this would've been one big fucking exercise in futility."

Cato scanned the surroundings and didn't sense anything overtly out of place. Still, once they stepped into the marsh there was no turning back. The mercenary captain looked to his employer. "I said I'd get you to the gate of your castle, but if that gate don't belong to you anymore..." Cato left the rest unsaid. The baron gave him a hard look but eventually turned his gaze to the Reach.

"No, the Reach is still ours. Jasper's banners would have hung from every damned wall if it were otherwise. Petty bastard." It was the mercenary's turn to give the other man a hard look. He didn't see desperation or pride in the noble's expression, just pragmatism. Cato finally let out a long sigh as he looked to the marsh.

"Well like the handsome lad said, lets not get stuck."

So began the final push to the Reach.

Asher Vanak-Duth

 

[Asher Vanak-Duth]

There wasn't any avoiding the slog through the marshlands, so forward they went.

The horses were well-trained; they didn't make a fuss about the murky water. The Baron - and all his gear and livery - got to stay dry atop his steed, as the rest of them fanned out through the muck.

Tt was quiet in the woods behind them. Halfway through the open mire, and there was no sign of anyone else coming after -- or before -- them. The grounds that rolled along the base of the Reach's walls were clean and kept. Nothing seemed off, except for the calm itself. Shouldn't there be guests in the gardens, a groundskeeper, merchants on the resupply?

There was only a lone figure come out to greet them. From the direction of the fort, a man ran towards them.

"It's Ravaris, he's one of my mine," the Baron said. A hard look from Lure, and he added: "The man's loyal as they come... did I not say we still had the Reach?"

A chatter of relief from the Baron's men. The ones with horses followed the Baron as he urged his steed into a trot to meet his man. Asher got splashed with mud as a horse kicked past him.

Before anyone saw the threat, they heard it coming. A dry, low thrum of air sounded from far above.

Then rose a shadow from behind the towers of the Reach. Like hawk, it dove down with folded wings, and like lion, it pounced upon the lone man running. A gryphon, gold feathered. Upon its back swayed a masked and armored rider, obscured by the bulk of the beast. Man caught beneath its foreclaws, the gryphon thrust its beak down into the muck. A shudder of neck feathers rustled out, and the gryphon snapped its beak shut. It came up with a dripping mouthful of red water. Yellow eyes leveled to track the still-approaching Baron and his men.

The Baron's horse reared away with a shriek, and turned to gallop the opposite direction.

Cato

 

[Cato]

"Out of all the cunting-" the rest of his words were drowned out by frantic shouting of those around him. Cato didn't blame them but the lack of discipline still pissed him off. He turned at the shriek of a horse and saw the Baron's horse dart back towards the forest. Man was either a damned coward or his steed was being clever. Turned out it was neither.

A chorused roar was the only warning they got as Jasper's soldiers burst from the treeline. One man astride his steed was garbed far more finely than the others. Cato could've guessed but the Baron left no doubt. "Jasper! You avaricious bastard!" The mercenary almost winced at the noble's lack of imagination. If you were being betrayed, might as well let the man properly have it.

The mercenary left it at that as he had his own damned problems to worry about. Namely a feathered fucking beast looking at him like he was a main course to Ravaris' appetizer. Flattering as it was, he wasn't keen on becoming a meal. Only years of being on the wrong end of a fight stopped Cato from being frozen in fear.

"Lure! Organize the rear and keep those bastards off our back!" If Cato was going to die to an overgrown chicken, he'd rather not get fucked in the ass too. Bit too stimulating for his liking. He turned to the young mercenary, who just happened to be closest to him at the moment. "You've got some real shit luck Axehead, you'd make a proper 'Shield. Listen, I'm going to piss this fucking fowl off. You see an opening, do what you can. Best bet is that prim sitting atop." There wasn't much else to be said. Cato wasn't a damned monster-hunter. Not sure it would've mattered in any case.

Cato's shortsword snapped from its sheath, a telekinetic wave following in its wake. It kicked up all the dirt and muck of the marsh right into the gryphon's face. It reared back to avoid most of the spray, but enough landed to draw its ire. All this cause he played a bad hand or two at bones. He swore he'd stop rolling dice if he made it out alive.

I should've just let them take my damned clothes.


Asher Vanak-Duth