Private Tales Unpleasant Company

[Charlemagne]

This was to be the last assignment before his contract with the 'Blighthands' was finished. They were an eclectic group of uneducated, unskilled, and unscrupulous brigands. The greater portion of their number were bastard sons with no lands or birthrights to call their own. A small handful of the leadership were landed men from the valleys to the west of the Spine, and they certainly did not need to be doing something so dangerous for gold. Charlemagne had quickly come to recognize that their motives involved thrill seeking and hedonism. The local lords situated at the base of the Spine ruled over savage lands and dealt with them just as savagely. Here, a man could let go off the moral trappings that bound him and simply do as his heart desired, however degenerate that desire might be.

Charlemagne shared no such disposition, but they'd offered him a large sack of coin after he'd killed half a dozen of their robbers. Work was not scarce in the Spine, but rarely was it so lucrative. Already he'd been privy to much of the debauchery of the Blighthands. They would be given a task to retrieve a debt from a farmer, and in doing so might take off the man's hands, steal his wife, sell his daughters into slavery and force his sons into the mercenary band. They clearly took great pleasure in exercising whatever powers they wished over the commonfolk.

He would have left their company sooner were it not for the fact that they would likely hunt him down for sport if he did so before his contract was up. Charlemagne considered himself a competent warrior, and he'd faced down terrible odds more than once, but fighting an entire company was suicide.

So it was that the Blighthands' host arrived at a small village colloquially known as Lakeside upon the western lip of Crobhear Lake. An unimaginative name for an unimaginative people; they were simple fisher folk that clung to their gods and superstition for some semblance of societal cohesion. Good people in the traditional sense, though they'd not paid their taxes to the local lordship this past summer. It was a matter of debate whether Lakeside actually fell under the purview of the lord in question, some fancy debutant from the eastern valleys, but he certainly had the coin to back up his claim.

Forty souls, some human, some Orc, even a spattering of elves trotted upon their steeds up the main road and into the heart of the little town. Some were clad in plate, others nearly naked, none carried themselves nobly save for the long-haired Orc in armor and black cloak at their head.

The host came to a halt outside the largest building in the tiny town; a wooden longhouse that served as the communal meeting place. A handful of men and women trotted out from its entryway, led tiny old woman holding herself upright with a wooden walking staff.

"Welcome to Lakeside," she offered a wary smile, "I am afraid our humble village lacks the provisions to provide a band such as yours, though if you are looking for lodging we have a few barns that are off-season."

"An offer most kind," the Orc rumbled, "We shall take it, but first I must speak of business. Lord Farwain of Estward has sent for your taxes. His taxman was told you are not under his jurisdiction when he visited." The Orc lofted a heavy brow-ridge. "You understand Farwain holds legal right to the western land of Crobhear via his mother's line?"

"We have never had to pay any taxes before - we settled this land specifically because it belonged to no lord." The old woman protested. "Look around sir. Do you see any wealth here? We are a subsistence people. There is no gold to give."

"That is fine. We will take some of your food then."

"The wheat has already been distributed to the people for this week. There's nothing in storage we could possibl-"

"What of the fish?"

"Our people would starve!"

"Mmm." The Orc chewed absently, his gaze drifting toward the horizon.

Charlemagne drew in a deep breath, fingers tightening around the reigns of his mount's saddle. The Orc, Chogav, only needed an excuse, and the old woman was providing an ample amount of them.

"Very well." Chogav grunted, "Farwain is understanding. He gave me instructions in case you were unable to pay, do not worry." Chogav thrust a green finger to the crowd that had gathered around his host. "Each family with more than two children will provide a boy below the age of twelve for service in the retinue, and a girl above the age of thirteen for housework. Those unable to provide will forfeit their food."

The crowd immediately exploded into uproar. The old women swiftly raised a hand to silence her compatriots, her haggard voice carrying over the masses. "These are tyrannical terms! You cannot take our children! I will not allow this! I-" the woman's words were cut off by a wet urking as Chogav shoved his spear into her lungs. Blood dribbled from her open mouth as she swiftly choked to death.

"You already have," was his response as he unceremoniously shoved her body off of his spearhead. The villagers scattered toward their dwellings immediately, the handful of men and women carrying arms rushing to protect those that fled. Chogav's host howled for blood, but the Orc held up a hand, halting his dogs. "Any that submit will live. You have five minutes."

Charlemagne stared from the back of the host, his expression that of stone. He had no problem killing soldiers, but he would not raise his sword against those who carried none. He chewed on his lower lip and absently pet the back of his mount's mane, trying desperately to decide on a course of action. Were he to flee, he would be hunted. If he did not participate wholly, questioned and then again likely hunted. To engage in this of his own accord? A betrayal of the few beliefs he clung to, and to his own heart.

What to do?

Tera Lynx

 

[Tera Lynx]

"There you go, Missus Feilds, that should clear up your symptoms in no time at all. If anything changes, please let me know, alright?"
Tera packed up her tools and medicines as she prepared to leave the elderly woman's cottage.
"Oh indeed, thank you so much Doctor Lynx. You really have been quite a blessing to Lakeside!"

Smiling and exchanging pleasantries Tera left the old woman's cottage.
Tera had taken up temporary residence in the village after receiving reports that Lakeside has been hit with a wave of illness. Fortunately, its wasn't major and hasn't resulted in any fatalities as of yet, it seemed to be a simple inconvenience in its current and former stages.
That didn't mean Tera was willing to take any chances, if things got out of hand it could prove disastrous to the people and the livelihood of the village.

When she first arrived, she started with suggesting various hygiene adjustments to improve their lifestyles and help prevent the spread of illness.
Then she got to work assessing the sick, learning the symptoms and treating them. As mentioned, the illness was not severe at this stage and she started treatment before it could get any worse, so things were looking good for Lakeside village.

Now she was essentially just making house calls and checking up on her patients to watch for any changes during their recovery, making sure it didn't grow out of control and they could make a full recovery. Thus far her efforts had paid off.
"... I'll see you tomorrow when I make my rounds! Rest well!"
She left the cottage and stepped into the public area... Where the village leader and many of the other healthy villagers were conversing with the leader of a band of soldiers.
Tera looked on curiously, coming out to stand by the communal well to watch.
They didn't seem to have any banner, though she wasn't that acquainted with armies and war and such, except insofar as she's treated the wounded on the battlefield before. Mercenaries, maybe? But what would mercenaries or soldiers have to do with this little town out in the rough edges of The Spine?

Her musings would be cut short without any answers. The crowd grew angry, and she heard the voice of the old woman carry over the uproar... Then... She was immediately dumbstruck as the leader shoved his spear into the little old lady's chest.
The old woman most likely would have died immediately from such a wound, yet she would have tried to save her anyways if she could, but that quickly became impossible as chaos erupted around the village.
The people fled to their houses with a few men with weapons came out to confront the soldiers. They were sturdy country stock men, but they appeared as scarecrows in the face of their armored and mounted opponents.

Tera overheard some of the discussion... Something about taxes, children and food?
She cared for these people, and knew that they were most likely going to die... and possibly herself with them... But she had to try to do SOMETHING for them.
It seems the soldiers... or mercenaries... or brigands or whatever they were, were going to wait a moment for the village to comply with their demands... That meant she had time, perhaps enough time to buy these people a little more time.
She was always a quick wit under stress, a highly desirable trait amongst doctors, so she came up with a plan rather quickly.
Placing her crows mask over her face she boldly ran forward past the fleeing villagers, many of whom urged her to run as they ran as well... She realized she might be killed for this, but it might save lives... And that's what a doctor does.

She stepped forward, in front of the armed villagers and in front of the mercenary captain. Interposing herself boldly between the mercenaries and the village.
"Sir! I am a doctor and I urge you and your men not to approach or enter the village any further for your own health and wellbeing! A plague has fallen on the people here, it has taken all of their effort just to stay alive, many are unable to work for food, and the children are especially affected! Please leave and warn others that Lakeside village is under quarantine!"
It was a bluff, they were well on their way to recovery, but since her face was covered and her voice was firm, she hoped the Orc would buy it.
Unfortunately, she could tell just by looking that the old woman was dead... There was no saving her at this point.

 

[Charlemagne]

Charlemagne peered out from his perch atop the horse with brief confusion, and then dreadful amusement. The village men went for what few weapons they owned, some sporting boat paddles in lieu of spears or swords. Their intent was a valiant one, but unfortunately it was also particularly stupid. They might well live as slaves under Chogav's boot, or they might survive altogether should the Orc keep his word. Either way, they would live, and their children would still have fathers.

Now their children would be taken all the same and left fatherless to boot. A terrible fate by all accounts. Charlemagne sympathized, but there was nothing he could realistically do to change the situation. Not without getting himself killed, and then all this suffering would truly prove to have been pointless.

He rested a hand on the pommel of his greatsword, green eyes peering out from his cowl as he readied himself for the inevitable order. He could not bring himself to arm the defenseless in good conscience, but these men were ready for a fight. It was still not the most...honorable of contests, and yet he still might prove his worth to Chogav's host without having to sully his conscience too much.

That was until the bird-faced woman threw herself between the would-be combatants.

Chogav appraised her curiously. "A doctor? In this shitehole?" He ran a clawed hand through his long black hair and cracked a wicked grin. "And a quarantine...how incredibly convenient. Very well." Chogav thrust a pointed nail in Charlemagne's direction. "Seeing as your time with us is coming to an end, Little Charles, give us a parting gift and confirm the good doctor's words for me." Incredible doubt laced Chogav's words, but if there was a slight possibility the woman wasn't lying, then it was better to send a man disposable to the company to verify.

The bald mercenary stared blankly at his commander. After a few moments, he grunted, slid out from the saddle, and threw his sheathed greatsword over his shoulder. Charlemagne believed the doctor's words less than Chogav did, but he was welcome of the task. Perhaps he'd be able to leave this place without having to swing his sword.

He approached the doctor with an expression of stone, throwing back his cowl as he drew near. His gaze darted from her to the Orc. "If she's lying?" He asked grimly.

"Then you can do as you like." Chogav's disconcerting grin broadened. The implication of violence was more an unspoken order than it was a suggestion; all Charlemagne had control over was the degree of it.

"Sure," the mercenary grunted as he turned back toward the crow-doctor. "Let's make this quick."

Tera Lynx

 

[Tera Lynx]

"A doctor? In this shitehole?" He ran a clawed hand through his long black hair and cracked a wicked grin. "And a quarantine...how incredibly convenient. Very well." Chogav thrust a pointed nail in Charlemagne's direction. "Seeing as your time with us is coming to an end, Little Charles, give us a parting gift and confirm the good doctor's words for me."

She let out a long breath she didn't realize she was holding. It seemed she bought them a little more time and might be able to convince the mercenaries to leave the village entirely.

She watched the hulking man with the obscenely large sword dismount and approach. He wasn't incredibly tall but certainly taller than her by a good bunch of inches.

"If she's lying?" He asked grimly.

"Then you can do as you like." Chogav's disconcerting grin broadened. The implication of violence was more an unspoken order than it was a suggestion; all Charlemagne had control over was the degree of it.

Tera gulped nervously it the implication... But convincing one man that the village was sicker than it was would be easier than convincing an entire mob with their mentality.

"Sure," the mercenary grunted as he turned back toward the crow-doctor. "Let's make this quick."

The man standing in front of her was imposing and stood like a threatening avatar of war. She had to clench her teeth to keep them from chattering and clench her fists to keep them from shaking... She had gotten this far with her bluff... How much further could she take it? She had to keep pulling ideas off the top of her head, but she couldn't do that forever.

She nodded the beak of her mask, "O-of course, sir... I obviously cannot guarantee your safety..."
She fished in her satchel and found a cloth covering. She handed it to him.
"Here, put this over your mouth. It might help prevent you from getting sick."
With that she turned and stiffly walked back towards the village.

Those men who were armed were still warily brandishing their weapons, unsure of the plan or what they should do in the face of these soldiers... And Tera couldn't give them any pointers, she knew nothing!
During the standstill hover, some of them warily started picking up the body of the old woman, not daring to turn their backs on the mercenaries but hoping to make better use of their time than trying to win a staring contest with hardened killers.

She woodenly led the mercenary through the village. The Greeway kids were all still getting over a bad cold, they might convince him with their constant sneezing and coughing. Or maybe the Faraday family? Their father was bedridden a throwing up...
She turned her head to speak with him as they walked towards the Greeway house, the next stop on her house visits.
"These people have been struggling, I've done what I can for them and with time I should be able to help them through this plague... But if they take much more this village will not survive."
This was her hoping this guy had a better nature to appeal to.
As they stepped up to the Greeway cottage she could hear crying inside, still followed by sniffling, sneezing and coughing. She never thought she'd think this but thank the gods they HADN'T recovered since yesterday!
There were sounds of the parents rushing about trying to gather necessities to hopefully take refuge in the woods, as Tera hoped the others were doing. News had no doubt spread around the entire village and she hoped they all planned to run and hide.

Tera knocked on the door and activities stopped inside the cottage aside from the crying and sick children.
"It's me, Doctor Lynx and a... gentleman... Were here to check up on the children."
Mister Greeway opened the door, holding a dagger behind his back and staring nervously at the mercenary.
"Of course, Doctor... Come on in..."

 

[Charlemagne]

This podunk village didn't even have enough coin to tend to itself let alone the heavy taxation of some lord that didn't even live in the mountains. Were he not on contract, Charlemagne would have absconded from here immediately. He had no sympathies for the feudal system or the supposed 'nobility' of the lowlands. In the Spine, things were violently egalitarian. It was difficult to create an oppressive structure when the land itself resisted structure as a base concept.

Still, it seemed the greed of men could not be contained by the wills of the world. He walked quietly alongside the doctor as she explained the situation. She made sense: reinforced Charlemagne's own conclusions; that did not change things unfortunately.

"I don't think this village would survive with or without your intervention. This lake is a calmer piece of the Spine, but it is still the Spine. Without warriors or walls, raiders will come inevitably, be they Orcs looking for slaves, Dwarves reclaiming land, or taxmen like Chogav. This land only sustains the harshest of breeds." A cold and unfortunate truth. It assuaged some of the little pinpricks of guilt in Charlemagne's chest at the least. This was inevitable.

"Good on you for trying though." He added as if to soften the words.

"Hello," came the mercenary's greeting. Ever the socialite, Charlemagne offered Mister Greeway a relatively blank stare. "Lord Farwain has sent for his taxes, but your doctor here says there's a plague about. I'm to see if that's true or not."

It didn't really matter. Chogav only needed a vague justification to engage in his bloodsport - they were just buying time now. Charlemagne didn't much mind, he wasn't invested in the murder like his employer was.

He absentmindedly wrapped the cloth covering Tera Lynx had offered him about his face and would follow her inside.

 

[Tera Lynx]

"I don't think this village would survive with or without your intervention. This lake is a calmer piece of the Spine, but it is still the Spine. Without warriors or walls, raiders will come inevitably, be they Orcs looking for slaves, Dwarves reclaiming land, or taxmen like Chogav. This land only sustains the harshest of breeds." A cold and unfortunate truth. It assuaged some of the little pinpricks of guilt in Charlemagne's chest at the least. This was inevitable.

"Good on you for trying though." He added as if to soften the words.

She could only nod in agreement, of course she felt like disagreeing with the warrior would be unwise in general, but she could see his point.
"I'm a doctor... I battle the silent killers that float unseen in the air itself... I leave the orcs, goblins, dwarves, raiders and corrupt officials to men like you."
She immediately felt like she said too much and visibly cringed.

"Hello," came the mercenary's greeting. Ever the socialite, Charlemagne offered Mister Greeway a relatively blank stare. "Lord Farwain has sent for his taxes, but your doctor here says there's a plague about. I'm to see if that's true or not."

Mister Greeway nodded hesitantly, but especially after catching sight of the warrior's massive sword.
"V-very well... Doctor Lynx, my children are still very sick since yesterday."
He would casually back away until he could safely put down the knife on the kitchen counter without being obvious about it.

Tera nodded, "Alright, I'll go see them."
She went through a doorway where the crying and coughing was coming from, going to the bedside where two children lay with wet rags on their foreheads.
"The plague has been afflicting this village for about a week now, as you can see, the children are not in good shape... It's very obvious that everyone involved is struggling just to survive and I'm here making sure the sick do not die."
That much was true, it's mostly due to her efforts that these people survived as long as they did.

She began administering to the children, tilting their heads up so that they could take sips from various bottles she took out of her satchel. Each bottle was labeled and named for each of her patients, the dosage for each and what they needed.
She took out a mortar a pestle to grind up some dried plants into a powder, while she was grinding, she turned to the mercenary.
"What further proof do you need?"

 

[Charlemagne]

I'm a doctor... I battle the silent killers that float unseen in the air itself... I leave the orcs, goblins, dwarves, raiders and corrupt officials to men like you."

The bald man stared at her for a moment, his thoughts temporarily halted by the woman's words. Men like him? He was one of those raiders. One of those terrors of the people. How many folk had he killed in his two decades? Dozens? At least a hundred, maybe even more. Almost all of them soldiers, true, but they were fathers and husbands, sons and even a few daughter. He'd sent their families to suffer just as much as Chogav had: only difference was that Chogav was at least direct and honest about what he did.

Charlemagne hid behind platitudes and wooden honor that no noble or knight would recognize as anything other than a pathetic coping mechanism.

The thoughts came and passed as she led him into the cottage. The children certainly looked sickly enough as far as Charlemagne understood sickness, which was not much. He had little experience with it beyond the usual ailments that followed an infected wound.

She asked for proof. Something in Charlemagne's crude imitation of a heart stirred. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding against one another as he looked from the children to their tired father.

Honesty then.

"Chogav won't care." Left hand balled into a fist. "This is a pretense girl. He's either gonna enslave or kill everyone in this village. He just sent me along to get you out of the way - he's fucking with you because he thinks it's fun." Cold iron truth. If there was any true 'evil' in this world, then the Blighthands personified it. They lived for the hedonism, damn the thousands caught in the midst of their debauchery.

Wasn't any point in lying to himself now. They're use the men for target practice once they had them in bindings. Maybe make them watch as they did what they wanted to their women. Farwain never cared for slaves, his retinue already numbered in the thousand. He just wanted money and goods: the village could never provide. Farwain's mercy might extend to the girls for his monstrous appetite but other than that? Slaughter.

The mercenary chewed hard on his lower lip, mind reeling so greatly that he broke the skin.

"You need to take your kids and go. Now." His tone brooked no disagreement as he ordered the head of the household. "He's probably already started killing folk."

Charlemagne was killing himself now. This decision would be his last. Still, as he looked at the sniveling children, the doctor's words rattled in his skull again and again.

Men like you.

He turned on his boot, undid the clasps that held his greatsword in place, and drew the massive weapon. It was nearly six-feet long, about his entire body length in side. Its etched metal glittered in the candlelight of the cottage.

The sound of screaming carried from the village square. Roars torn from the throats of vile men cried out to meet it. Chogav had just wanted him out of the way: knew he couldn't be relied on for a massacre. He was dead either way.

The merc crossed out into the evening air. From the distance, he caught sight of flickering orange flames reaching up toward the heavens and the smell of smoke. They'd begun.

Tera Lynx

 

[Tera Lynx]

"Chogav won't care." Left hand balled into a fist. "This is a pretense girl. He's either gonna enslave or kill everyone in this village. He just sent me along to get you out of the way - he's fucking with you because he thinks it's fun."

Her eyes widened behind her crows mask.
Was that orc REALLY going to risk himself and his men with the plague in spite of the warning of a doctor?!
She cursed her luck, it didn't help that the majority of the world was still ignorant of the advances of modern medicine.
He lacked healthy fear.

"You need to take your kids and go. Now." His tone brooked no disagreement as he ordered the head of the household. "He's probably already started killing folk."

Her mouth went dry when she heard the first bloodcurdling scream. She was such a fool! She merely bought only a few more moments, not the minutes she hoped for.
She immediately set about helping the family gather the children as soon as the mercenary gave the order, she didn't hesitate but she couldn't quite understand what was happening... Why did this mercenary decide to help them? She wasn't foolish enough to actually think that they were lucky enough to get the ONE mercenary out of the group that WASN'T a bloodthirsty brigand.

And yet, there he was, unslinging that massive sword and stepping out on the porch... Like a massive juggernaut facing down a tide of enemies.

Tera gave the mother some medicine and instructions for using them before helping them out the backdoor.
She was about to go out the door with them and escape into the wilderness when she stopped at the door... It dawned on her the gravity of what that man did, he was sacrificing himself, he won't get any mercy from his comrades.

She went to the front door and looked out... Flames and black smoke were already climbing into the air... She couldn't leave him to fight alone. She wasn't a fighter by any stretch of the imagination, but what could she do.
"Sir... Thank you for warning us... You should come with us, surely you cannot fight them alone."

 

[Charlemagne]

Terror intermingled with guilt to brew an interesting cocktail in Charlemagne's heart. He did not want to die any more than anyone else, and yet this path was certainly one of self-destruction. He could turn on the family now, perhaps slay the doctor to preserve his own life. They were going to die anyway; was it really his fault if they happened to do so at the point of his blade?

But then what would he be? He was already a dishonorable cur of a man, one that leeched off of the work of others and made murder his trade. How much lower could he realistically sink? Was he not at the bottom already?

These thoughts and more froze him at the doorstep of the cottage. Screams and sounds of men in conflict echoed out across the valley. The host was spreading now, some on horseback, others simply charging from home to home, taking whatever plunder they wished with little mind for its value. What could he really do against a small army?

The girl's words stirred him from his ruminations. His head whipped and he stared at her from over his shoulder, eyes wide with fear and shock, chest rising and falling almost violently with adrenaline. His blood thundered in his ears and smoke filled his nostrils. No point in thinking now.

"Not much point in dying," he relented, though the certainty that his death was indeed upon him did not relinquish the grip it had on his heart. He'd damned himself already anyway. Couldn't help the people, couldn't stop the pillaging, but these few folk? Maybe he could make an infinitesimal difference.

"My name is Charlemagne. if I die, remember me." A selfish request of a selfish man who had no one else to pay homage to his memory. He thrust a gauntlet toward the mountains. "They won't push their horses out of the valley. We get there, maybe we live."

A scream from the cottage next over drew his attention. He caught sight of a few brigands, some of the elves he'd learned to revile, driving their swords through the gut of a man. The screaming grew more panicked as they dragged another figure from the house. Their quarry, a middle-aged woman, spat and clawed as they dragged her out into the street, one of the elves slicing at her dress with his falchion.

A moment of memory burned through his synapses. Fear was purged, forced to the back of his mind as conscious thought melted to nothingness. Monstrous purpose and vile hatred thundered through his veins as he marched toward the preoccupied brigands. His lips pulled back in a murderous snarl, blade arcing high through the air as he swiftly closed the distance.

The first of the elves only glanced at him with confusion as the greatsword crashed into her head. The skull gave way instantly, bits of bone and brain matter splattering across the sword as Charlemagne stepped forward, balancing the weight of the blade so as to slice horizontally through the other two brigands with his next step. The weapon found easy purchase through their thin iron breastplates, cleaving through the metal with ease and clean through their rib cages. They each fell in two jagged pieces, leaving their victim gibbering helplessly on the ground.

Charlemagne stared down at her, that murderous expression still splayed freely across his face. He drew in a dozen violent breaths, only lowering his sword once conscious thought returned of its own volition.

The woman just stared up at him with an intermingling of confusion and terror. Charlemagne looked back toward the doctor. "I..." another deep breath, "I don't know this village. Lead us out of here, please." Fingers trembled. Blade shaking. He rallied himself for the next step.

Tera Lynx

 

[Tera Lynx]

"Not much point in dying," he relented, though the certainty that his death was indeed upon him did not relinquish the grip it had on his heart. He'd damned himself already anyway. Couldn't help the people, couldn't stop the pillaging, but these few folk? Maybe he could make an infinitesimal difference.

"My name is Charlemagne. if I die, remember me." A selfish request of a selfish man who had no one else to pay homage to his memory. He thrust a gauntlet toward the mountains. "They won't push their horses out of the valley. We get there, maybe we live."

He seemed shaken by the sight of the carnage and chaos, but his words made it sound like he was coming with them, which washed her with a wave of relief and she smiled hopefully behind her mask.
The upper crags were a good idea, horses couldn't make that journey unless one had an experienced guide from this village. Although she heard one such guide comment that it was almost as treacherous on foot.

She was about to introduce herself and go back through the house to the backdoor and freedom when the bald man took his massive sword and started walking in the opposite direction!
"Charlemagne!"
She called after him, but to no avail. She glimpsed the murder in his eyes and knew she couldn't stop him... She was now torn, did she wait or leave him to his fate?
Alone they wouldn't stand a chance, but with him?

She blinked and her mouth dropped open in awe at the carnage that ensued. In spite of the size of that sword he wielded it like it was made of twigs! But it's weight and mass could not be questioned when it tore through solid armor and bisected two raiders... In spite of his terror and possible PTSD, this man was terrifying!

"I..." another deep breath, "I don't know this village. Lead us out of here, please."

She nodded, "O-of course! This way into the woods, before they spot us!"
Unless it was too late for that.
"I am Tera, by the way. Doctor Lynx is fine for now, or doctor..."
She was rambling a little to distract her from the memory of two elves being cut in two by a single strike, the guts alone would have been enough to make a normal man or woman lose their breakfast.

She led him through the house and out the open backdoor with a clear shot to the forest. The family was nowhere in sight.

 

[Charlemagne]

Tera.

He stared at her then, silence gripping his throat as his bloodlust thundered in his skull. It was not like him to stop once the carnage had begun. Ever was it the mercenary's nature to fight as a cornered dog, so often did he contend alone against odds that would see him broken. Restraint had never been a skill worth exercising and to do so now was as unnatural as breathing underwater.

He clung to the name, rolling it around in his thoughts for a moment before speech finally broke through his addled mind. "Lead on doctor," he grunted, eyes narrowing as he regained some countenance of sentience. He would follow her out through the house, the woman he'd saved fleeing with the remains of her family in the other direction, likely back into the hands of their aggressors. Nothing to be done for them.

The family too seemed to have taken their leave, though they seemed more likely to survive given their destination. The crags would have to do. Better to fight his foes from the high ground if nothing else. "If they catch me they'll string me up by my skin. I won't be letting that happen - if I'm cornered, you just keep running." He couldn't protect the village. Couldn't even protect a few people. One woman though? Perhaps he could do that.

The raiders were moving from house to house now, pillaging freely as they went. The few that took up arms lasted seconds at a time, even the skilled of them being overwhelmed by sheer numbers. The darkening sky was alight with orange flame now, casting long shadows across the cottages as they passed toward the treeline.

A rider on the outskirts caught site of their fleeing: noticed the unmistakable sword in the man's hand. The horsemen rode hard at them. He was human, clad in black plate, a halberd whistling through the air as he aimed to cleave through the traitor. Charlemagne whirled in time for the horseman's pass, catching the tip of the halberd on the broad edge of his sword as the attacker passed.

"Good show!" Their pursuer howled; weapon raised high. "Gone with the doctor Charly? Unwise." He pointed his halberd in a predatory salute.

Charlemagne adopted a wide stance, eyeing his opponent. "I don't kill kids Jack."

The rider barked a laugh. "We're drawing lines now? Bit late for that boy. I'll take your head for it either way, take the doctor too after that." Another ugly chuckle mired with vile intent.

The hoof-stomps of the horse were deafening as Jack charged again. Another hammer blow from the halberd, another parry on Charlemagne's account. His foe did not disengage this time, his blade stabbing down toward Charlemagne's chest. The mercenary responded in kind, smacking the point of the halberd away with his sword and stepping into his opponent's guard. The horse, trained for war, reared up on its hind legs unexpectedly. It caught Charlemagne off guard, one of its hooves slamming into his chest, knocking the air from his lungs and sending him flat on his back.

"You slipped Charly!" The horseman roared as he took the halberd in two hands and stabbed downward again and again. Charlemagne rolled desperately each time, though his luck was running out. The blade sliced clean through his unshielded left shoulder, biting through cloth and muscle to reach the bone beneath. Blood spurt freely from the wound, and Charlemagne could not help but cry out in momentary agony.

He rolled again, the halberd blade fell. It missed by an inch, stabbing deep into the earth. The mercenary took his change, grabbing the weapon's pole with both hands and yanking hard. The rider was pulled clean from his stirrups crashing to the ground a few paces away. His horse whinnied in shock, turning on its hooves and charging off into the forest.

Charlemagne was on his foe in an instant, hands wrapped tight about Jack's windpipe as the rider slammed his fists in the mercenary's head. One lucky blow shot stars through Charlemagne's vision and forced him off of his opponent. He quickly bolted to his feet, snatching up his greatsword just as his foe retrieved his own weapon.

"You're not taking anything," Charlemagne huffed between heavy breaths. The clatter of hooves carried over the clearing once again. More coming.

"You're already dead Charly, just accept it. Easier that way." The halberd spun in his two hands in a horizontal, well telegraphed strike. Far too sloppy.

Charlemagne stepped into the blow, his ruined shoulder and aching muscles screaming in protest as he hefted the lump of iron with all that he had. It crashed into the pole of the halberd, snapping the weapon in two, and followed forth to decapitate the rider cleanly. The head rolled freely along the bloodstained ground as the body too slumped to the earth.

Charlemagne whirled on Tera Lynx then, "To the trees!" He broke into a sprint toward the relative safety of the treeline, just as the riders companions began to notice the death of their comrade.

 

[Tera Lynx]

"Lead on doctor,"

She did so, but she was hoping that family would have stuck around to help guide them, she only knew where the medicinal herb spots were and the general direction... But it was merely her best guess on where the mountain path was located.

"If they catch me they'll string me up by my skin. I won't be letting that happen - if I'm cornered, you just keep running."

She winced at the imagery, but nodded. In such a situation that's all she could do, though the thought of leaving someone behind to such a fate didn't sit we with her, she honestly couldn't do anything for him.

She led the way as best she could, occasionally she would spot some fleeing villagers and follow them so she was fairly confident that they were going the right way. They stuck to the underbrush most of the way but took whatever clearing was available for greater speed, it would take too much time to go around a clearing and they were beginning to hear signs of pursuit.

A rider on the outskirts caught site of their fleeing: noticed the unmistakable sword in the man's hand. The horsemen rode hard at them. He was human, clad in black plate, a halberd whistling through the air as he aimed to cleave through the traitor. Charlemagne whirled in time for the horseman's pass, catching the tip of the halberd on the broad edge of his sword as the attacker passed.

Tera heard the thundering of hooves gaining on them, she ran as fast as she could but neither of them could outdistance a horse.
She heard the clash of weapons behind her and turned in time to see the horse about to run her down.
She screamed and threw herself sideways out of the horses path where she tumbled and rolled in the tall grass. Thankfully no weapon went swinging her way, perhaps he was still reeling from colliding with that huge sword.

"Good show!" Their pursuer howled; weapon raised high. "Gone with the doctor Charly? Unwise." He pointed his halberd in a predatory salute.

Charlemagne adopted a wide stance, eyeing his opponent. "I don't kill kids Jack."

The rider barked a laugh. "We're drawing lines now? Bit late for that boy. I'll take your head for it either way, take the doctor too after that." Another

Tera slowly regained her feet while the two mercenaries spoke. The threat was given, even she understood that it wasn't her head he was after...
She looked around the clearing, regaining her bearings after her tumble and found the direction they had to go.

The mercenaries charged, clashing once again in combat. For a moment it looked like Charlemagne had it under control, then that horse got a kick in!
No fair! She had no idea this fight was actually two against one!
The mercenary with the halberd was trying to skewer Charlemagne to the ground and got in a good stab to his shoulder.

He rolled again, the halberd blade fell. It missed by an inch, stabbing deep into the earth. The mercenary took his change, grabbing the weapon's pole with both hands and yanking hard. The rider was pulled clean from his stirrups crashing to the ground a few paces away. His horse whinnied in shock, turning on its hooves and charging off into the forest.

"No no no no no!"
Tera saw the horse bolt and tried desperately to catch it. If they had a mount it would make it easier to make it to the crags, even if a horse couldn't make the climb.
But she was ultimately too far away to even come close to catching one of it's reigns.
"Damnit!"

She turned her attention back to the fight. What should she do? He told her to run if he got cornered, did this count? Or could he still win this? With his wound her medical experience told her that he shouldn't be able to lift that sword, but he lifted it anyways.
She moved towards the treeline, but unable to tear her eyes away from the fight.

"You're not taking anything," Charlemagne huffed between heavy breaths. The clatter of hooves carried over the clearing once again. More coming.

Tera began to panic a little as the sounds of more horses began to come closer to this clearing.
She started talking to herself to help herself think.
"Oh crap... Oh shit shit shit... Do I run? But I... Oh what are you THINKING Tera! Of course you run! Your just a burden if he has to protect you and fight at the same time!"

"You're already dead Charly, just accept it. Easier that way." The halberd spun in his two hands in a horizontal, well telegraphed strike. Far too sloppy.

Charlemagne stepped into the blow, his ruined shoulder and aching muscles screaming in protest as he hefted the lump of iron with all that he had. It crashed into the pole of the halberd, snapping the weapon in two, and followed forth to decapitate the rider cleanly. The head rolled freely along the bloodstained ground as the body too slumped to the earth.

Just when she thought the real fight was just beginning, Jack's weapon snapped and his head left his body.
It was over so quickly Tera had a hard time believing it.
She stood in the clearing, mouth agape in awe at the event.

Charlemagne whirled on @Tera Lynx then, "To the trees!" He broke into a sprint toward the relative safety of the treeline, just as the riders companions began to notice the death of their comrade.

She blinked out of her shock and didn't hesitate. She ran alongside him to the treeline and to relative safety.
"They have horses, Charlemagne! They'll catch us before we reach the crags! Your wounded, I need to take care of that as quickly as possible. What do we do?!"

 

[Charlemagne]

A truly fantastic question that Charlemagne was struggling to find an answer to. They were nearing the trees now, but the riders, while far now, would only take a few moments to seize upon them. He'd dealt with enough trouble with that last one, several of them would be certain death.

His gaze darted from the doctor to his belt, then back again. There was one possible option, though he was wont to waste it here. There might well be far better uses for it in the future. Then again, it wouldn't matter how useful it might be if he died here.

The mercenary halted at the lip of the clearing. He turned to face the encroaching riders and reached for one of the vials secured deep within his belt-pack. It glittered with bronze liquid in the firelight. He double checked to make sure the cork was in place, and then contented himself with awaiting the riders. The grim purpose helped to stifle some of the chaos raging through his thoughts, and perhaps more importantly did well to distract him from the biting pain in his shoulder. The adrenaline was still flowing and even then, it felt like a most grievous wound. He dreaded what it might feel like tomorrow, should he actually make it that far.

The thunderclaps of a dozen horses at full gallop deafened him to the greater conflict. They charged howling warcries on their lips, the riders easily closing the distance in half a minute or so. Charlemagne continued to wait until they were almost close enough to drive a spear through him.

His lips pressed into a grim smile as he hurled the vial at the feet of their horses. It shattered on impact, the oily mixture intermingling with the clearer liquid that had been gated from it via a thin glass wall in the middle of the vial. The chemical reaction was immediate. A wave of kinetic energy followed by a small storm of flames exploded from the bottle, engulfing the riders and their horses in its inferno. The blast threw Charlemagne clear from his feet, though he quickly dragged himself up. For a moment he observed his handiwork, the screams of the dying men and their mounts sending chill down his spine and arms.

They had a few moments, nothing more. He whirled from the massacre; his weapon terribly heavy in his hands as he dragged it toward the trees. He would meet Tera Lynx's gaze for a moment, though his lips remained shut tight. It was times like these when more was said in silence than with words. Blood dripped freely from his shoulder now, drenching his tunic and breastplate. He paid it no heed as he regarded the doctor, his breath slowing as he did his best to calm his nerves. "I only had one of those," he breathed, exhausted. "Don't worry about the wound. Better we tend to our lives for now. Let's go."

The screams from within the village reached a fever pitch. It was all Charlemagne could do to focus on the beating of his own heart to tune them out.

Tera Lynx

 

[Tera Lynx]

The mercenary halted at the lip of the clearing. He turned to face the encroaching riders and reached for one of the vials secured deep within his belt-pack. It glittered with bronze liquid in the firelight. He double checked to make sure the cork was in place, and then contented himself with awaiting the riders. The grim purpose helped to stifle some of the chaos raging through his thoughts, and perhaps more importantly did well to distract him from the biting pain in his shoulder. The adrenaline was still flowing and even then, it felt like a most grievous wound. He dreaded what it might feel like tomorrow, should he actually make it that far.

Tera almost tripped in her panic as he stopped to face the riders.
"Charlemagne!"
She wasn't sure if she was angry or scared for him. What was he thinking? Was he going to try to hold them off so she could escape? But then, what about him?!
She recovered her balance and turned to look at what was happening without fully stopping.
She saw the squad of horsemen barreling down on them, and then she saw the vial in his hand. She didn't recognize it, but her medical intuition told her that those substances looked kinda explosive.

Her eyes went wide and she immediately turned and continued her sprint into the woods.

His lips pressed into a grim smile as he hurled the vial at the feet of their horses. It shattered on impact, the oily mixture intermingling with the clearer liquid that had been gated from it via a thin glass wall in the middle of the vial. The chemical reaction was immediate. A wave of kinetic energy followed by a small storm of flames exploded from the bottle, engulfing the riders and their horses in its inferno. The blast threw Charlemagne clear from his feet, though he quickly dragged himself up. For a moment he observed his handiwork, the screams of the dying men and their mounts

She heard the explosion behind her and was almost afraid to look back yet again, fearing she would see bits and pieces of Charlemagne decorating that edge of the clearing.
Instead she saw him dragging himself to his feet and running after her.
She didn't try to slow down, but she was getting short of breath and couldn't keep up her sprint for very long, he caught up with her easily.

"I only had one of those," he breathed, exhausted. "Don't worry about the wound. Better we tend to our lives for now. Let's go."

She nodded in agreement, mostly because it was probably more of a death sentence to stop and tend to his wounds than it was for him to potentially bleed out.
Even though she was out of breath and her legs ached, the fresh reminders of her own mortality kept her at a semi-steady pace as she ran for her very survival at Charlemagne's side.

They crossed a shallow stream and Tera caught sight of another villager running for the crags.
They were getting closer now, the hills were practically in sight! Now they just needed to cross this last stretch of forest to finally reach relative safety.
By this point Tera was exhausted, openly gasping for air and sweating profusely.
She removed her mask a while back, but it did nothing for her.
"Hey... It isn't much farther now... I just, need to stop... Just a moment..."
She didn't wait for permission, or even for herself to find somewhere to sit.
Her legs just simply refused to take another step and she fell sprawling on the forest floor.

 

[Charlemagne]

The scent of burning flesh followed him long after they’d absconded from the mass of e flames bodies. It was an uncomfortable thing, dizzying his thoughts and making him scrunch his nose up in disgust. Still, it was better that they died in so gruesome a way than the alternative. A death at their hands would be a slow affair, and the gods only knew what would become of his erstwhile companion. Whatever tiny inklings of guilt that lingered in his heart abated as he caught site of Tera once again. He didn’t do much as stop to greet her; the duo made their way deeper into the forest near-wordlessly.

It was only when they crossed the stream that Charlemagne’s thoughts slowed to something of tangibility. She muttered something about waiting and collapsed to the earth. The mercenary stared at her for a moment, mouth hanging open slightly as his body adjusted to the sudden lack of movement. Waiting here wouldn’t do. They were certainly safer than back in the clearing, and their closest pursuers were slain; more would come soon enough however.

“Don’t have time to wait doctor,” he grunted, her face shining somewhat in the dull orange glow of that burning village. He’d already made up his mind it to leave her behind, though the animal part of his mind squirmed against his decision. He was tired, but he could keep going until he reached the peaks before exhaustion took hold. Coming to a decision, Charlemagne would bend over the exhausted doctor and try to lift her up into his arms. The tear in his shoulder protested immediately, a tidal wave of pain crashing through his mangled limb on the attempt. A string of curses sputtered from his lips as he’d lower her back down, a fresh stream of blood flowing freely from the wound.

“Guess I can’t do that,” the chaos of the village, somewhat distant now, still rung loud in his ears. “We’ll just…wait until you’re ready,” he grunted as he knelt down alongside her in hopes of avoiding further notice.

(Phone post, little slow as I’m on vacation.)

 

[Tera Lynx]

“Don’t have time to wait doctor,”

She tried to pull herself up, but she simply didn't have the strength at the moment, she was breathing hard as if the altitude were affecting her.
"Sorry... I just... Can't go on right now..."
Then he tried to lift her.
"No, wait!"
His wound, he shouldn't be fighting with it let alone trying to carry her with it!
His effort to help her didn't work.

“Guess I can’t do that,” the chaos of the village, somewhat distant now, still rung loud in his ears. “We’ll just…wait until you’re ready,” he grunted as he knelt down alongside her in hopes of avoiding further notice.

"I'm... So sorry... Just not used to running... So much..."
She rolled to her back and laid her head back on some moss, trying to get air to stay in her lungs.
She glanced over at the mercenary.
"I... I have bandages in my bag... Soaked in poultices... Prevent infection..."
She hoisted the bag to him, unable to help him apply the dressing herself, but he needed to treat that wound.
"As much pressure... Tight as you possibly can."
She instructed.