Open Chronicles The Bounty

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This was a humiliating experience. Here she was, a young Lady, and she was being treated like some stray cow that needed to be brought back to it's herd. Only she wasn't going home. She didn't run away. Myrcella was taken away from her every comfort.

The ride wasn't fun. Being bound as she was, each bounce was uncomfortable and caused her muscles to tense up. She wasn't in any danger of falling, but that thought wasn't enough to train her body into thinking otherwise.

After he set up the camp and tied her to the tree, she couldn't help but test out the rawhide. At the sensation of it tightening, she stopped and swallowed. She wasn't so sure if she could sleep this way.

"Please take this off. I can't sleep like this. I want to lay down. I need to lay down. I promise to just sleep."
 
"There's no promise you can make that I can trust. Sleep or don't sleep, I've been in similar positions and slept just fine. Now keep quiet, unless you want me to gag you too."

Back to his old self again. Cold hearted and grim. He laid in a position that looked like it would hurt his back, up against a rock and a tree. His arms folded over his chest. He then drifted into the shallow waters of calm sleep, ready to awaken at any time.
 
Myrcella frowned. She was more comfortable the other way. But it was pretty clear that she wasn't going to have her way.

A part of her wanted to be sure that the hunter couldn't sleep either; to make a lot of commotion and disturb him every moment. But that just wouldn't help her at all. In fact it could make it all worse.

She closed her eyes and waited for sleep to come. It finally did, though it was very light.

It was the sounds of wolves howling that got her to snap awake again.
 
Wolves were common around the forested regions of the continent. These were grey wolves, and hungry ones. Their howling grew closer, which made Udalof pull out his bow and knock an arrow to the string.

He was calm, quiet and ready. His ears tuned in for the approaching pack. It turned out that they weren't wolves at all, but tracking hounds.

Arrows flew to slay the dogs and a sword was drawn to butcher the trackers. A group of five swordsmen in gambeson armour with roundshields were waiting for him.

The first was gutted by the blade of his hilt and a half bastard sword. The second struck down at his head, the blow was blocked and his head removed. The third was stabbed in the chest. The remaining two hesitated. One turned around and mounted one of the five horses with them and fled, but the last stayed and fought to give his comrade time to escape and report back. The remaining man didn't survive, but the one on horseback got away. Time for extreme measures.
 
She couldn't see. The rawhide around her neck prevented Myrcella from seeing what was going on. But she heard it. First came the whimpers from the injured hounds and then came the sounds of weapons clashing and men dying. There were horses too and she could hear their hooves pound the dirt as they galloped away.

Her breathing was quick, not sure of who the surviving party was. And then she saw the hunter. Blood was spattered on him but he didn't appear to be injured.

"They're just going to keep on coming. They won't stop until I'm home. Surely whatever you are being paid isn't worth this. Let me go. Please."
 
"You don't know me. I was given a job, I carry it out. No matter the cost. Besides, that pathetic rabble is nothing, living among orcs tends to give you an edge."

He had taken thick saplings and began to sharpen them. There were four of them and they didn't take long to sharpen. He stuck them in the ground where she could see him mount the disembodied heads on the spikes.

"A little warning for any further trackers." He says with an almost sadistic chuckle.
 
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Her brows raised. He lived with orcs? No wonder he was so harsh. And so brutal.

"What are you doing with those?" Myrcella asked as he sharpened the sticks. She had a million more questions, but he had already threatened to gag her before.

Her answer soon came as he stuck the heads on them. All of them were in clear view. She was both disgusted and fearful. It was probably a warning for her too. Cold chills ran down her spine and she had never felt the urge to go home so strong as she felt right now. Yet at every chance she had a bit of a break, people died and that chance was taken from her.

Myrcella just stared at the ground, saying nothing. No doubt they'd be on the move again soon enough.
 
He gave her another couple hours rest before he undid the strangulation restraint. He pulled her back to the horse they had been using.

He put her on top of it as he had before and mounted behind her. They continued their canter for a good while, stopping near the next dusk to set up camp. This time he didn't bind her to a tree immediately. He forced her to sit a few feet away from where he was building a fire.
 
Myrcella didn't exactly rest very well. She couldn't while those dead faces were staring at her. It was near impossible as she had a stark reminder of death being so near.

But she doubted that the ones that were paying the hunter did so with the option of killing her on the way. Otherwise she was certain that he'd of killed her already.

For the ride she kept quiet. It wasn't until he made her sit down as he built the fire that she spoke up again. "You'd make a good bodyguard. Probably a better line of work for you..."
 
"Anyone rich enough to have his or her own bodyguard is almost always too arrogant, I'd end up killing them myself." He states bluntly. "Besides, this life is what I know, what I've always known."

He finished building the fire and put his tinderbox to it. After it was going steady and warm he put a pot of rations next to it. The pot was small and carried no more than two small bowls of anything, he was apparently cooking a simple mutton stew. Once it was finished cooking he dropped a wooden bowl and spoon onto her lap and removed her hand bonds.

"Eat."
 
Myrcella had tried to give him a compliment, but it ended up backfiring. Was she arrogant? Sure she can be mean sometimes, but not in any bad way. She was pretty harmless.

After he untied her hands, she rubbed her shoulders, followed by her wrists. They ached from being held behind her for hours on end. The smell of the food was enough to get her stomach grumbling. No doubt he could hear it. So when he told her to eat, she didn't hesitate. Dishing out some of the stew, Myrcella soon sat back and dug into it. The flavour was mild at best, she was used to far better cooking. But she had barely eaten in two days, so anything was better than nothing.

"How much further is it?"
 
"A half weeks ride. If there are no more unforseen obstacles." He says dishing himself a bowl. "From there we part ways, I go about my business and they handle you from then on."

He wasn't unaware of the compliment, but again, it bred familiarity, which could get him killed. Either way, he would set up for the night, he bound her again when she finished eating, this time with her hands in front, and used the strangle cord to keep her to a tree while they slept.
 
A half a week's ride? She had never been this far away from home before. That still gave time for more people to come. But that meant that it could lead to their deaths too.

Myrcella had never felt more isolated.

She finished eating the stew. "Who are they? What do they look like? Surely you know?" Her head tilted down as she bound her hands again, though she was suprised to have them in front of her. But then came that blasted rawhide around her neck.

Sleep was not going to come easy for her tonight.
 
"I don't deal in names, and the messenger's face was concealed by a mask and good." He tells her. "I don't know who I'm working for or why they want you. It's not my business to know what they want, my business is to do as I'm asked if I'm paid. Nothing more."

A daysd ride back, the armed rider who had fled returned to her father's mansion. He knocked loudly and urgently. The man answered.

"Sir, we have a serious problem."
 
It couldn't be ransom. That was just too simple. And paying a hunter to bring her in would just give them less money when she was bartered off. The only other thing that she could think of was to be a hostage, a means of controlling her Father and to stop him from engaging in certain battles. Such hostage takings could last for years, decades even.

Those thoughts didn't help her to sleep.

She had to find some way to escape. But that wasn't going to happen just yet. The right opportunity would have to present itself.

Moments after the rider explained the situation, twenty mounted soldiers were sent out to try to catch up.
 
Twenty soldiers was a bit much, but these weren't professional soldiers, they were a quick militia scraped together for a fast hunt. He might not be able to take them outright, but he could if he played it smart, and seeing their comrades' mounted heads would greatly decrease morale, or make them too angry make good executive decisions. Either way, they would pose an obstacle, but not one he was incapable of surmounting.

The following morning he roused her for the day's ride. This time he didn't put her on her stomach, and instead let her sit with her legs on one side of the horse while they rode.
 
The cloth on the horse's feet was enough to hide some of the tracks making their trail tough to follow. Not to mention the decoy camps that the hunter had created. Such tactics slowed the soldiers down. Seeing the heads on pikes also made them unaware of just how many foes they were up against.

Myrcella breathed an inward sigh of relief as she was allowed to ride properly. However her hands were still bound, sitting side-saddle was much more comfortable. At times she found herself leaning against him, only to quickly straighten herself up again. "I've never been this far from home before. Not once. The trees are different here. Do you have a home some place?" She couldn't stand being silent for long.
 
"Out here is my home. Where the trees and animals give me all I need and there's nothing but the animals to bother you. Sure, I return to civilization to get some of the things that I can't make and preservatives, but for the most part, I'm out here. The ground as my bed and the trees as my roof."

His voice seemed to soften as he said this, it was a very orcish way of thinking. The orcs tended to be tribal, close to the lands they lived on, he was much the same. There was something about the wilds that calmed him, something he couldn't quite explain.
 
"What about in winter? Don't you get cold?" Winters can be harsh sometimes. Wherever he was taking her, she hoped that she wouldn't be stuck out in the elements. The comforts of home were easy to miss.

"And what about family? Friends? Don't you get lonely?" Myrcella knew that she would. It would probably put her in such a state of depression that she'd hardly do anything.

Maybe the hunter had an animal companion some place. But then again he was so rough that he probably wasn't even capable of loving anything or caring for it.

"Mind if I walk for a little while? Please?"
 
"The winter is easily fended off by a warm fire and a cozy shelter. As for family, my father died before I was born and my mother died in childbirth. Six years later a couple of orcs adopted me, they are my family. I have a few friends that I see from time to time. Why do you ask?"

He intentionally left out answering her request to walk.
 
Myrcella blinked. There were holes in his story. Who looked after him before he was six if both of his parents were dead?

"I'm just breaking up the silence, is all. What are your friends like? What do they do for work? Are they hunters like you?"

She glanced down to the horse. "He deserves a break you know, or he'll tire out quicker while carrying the both of us."
 
"My friends are not unlike me. Some are mercenaries, others smugglers, arms dealers and the like." He says. "And as for the horse, he rests in our hours of stillness. We stop for an hour to rest the horse, eat and rehydrate, then we keep going. We could fill those hours with walking instead, if you'd prefer."
 
Upon hearing what his friends were like, Myrcella was glad that they weren't there with them. Trying to deal with one threat was bad enough. Who knows what she'd face when they reached their destination though.

As he put in the offer to have her walk instead of resting and eating, she shook her head. "No thank you." Myrcella had no control in this situation and she wasn't sure how to handle that.

"Do you know any songs?"
 
"I know some, but I've been told that my singing could kill crows." He says to her. "And for the most part I know very little of them. You would be better than me without a doubt."
 
Myrcella almost laughed when he commented on his singing ability. Almost. It was tough to keep her spirits up during times like this. But she was trying. Each hour and each day that passed, she was further and further from home, and that meant that her chances of escape were getting smaller and smaller as well.

"Maybe. My little sister can sing better though. And even my twin brother could." As much as they annoyed her, she missed them now. Even her worst day at home was better than this.

"If you could have any other job or any other status in life, what would it be?"
 
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