[Old Draft]Arc 05c
WyrmofFrost
One whose Muse delights in being coy
- Location
- USA
- Pronouns
- He/His/Him
]
POV Change
Walking around Chaenath could only use her more than thirty cycles of life to not be panicking at her situation. The diffuse lighting in this large park not giving her mind many comforts. Her life had gone from highs to lows before, that she could deal with. But this perpetual twilight seemed to grate at her even worse than any before. Greedy and desperate chevalier families trying for land grabs requiring years of piecemeal deals and negotiations before simply hurling mercenaries at each other, that was her typical experience with politics. But if this was what it was like in high society then she was terrified. It all started with a seemingly casual and normal meeting.
Some merchant group wanted to hire helpers and were looking for them somewhat on the cheap. Yet they did not want the confined serfs or other low level workers, they wanted someone skilled enough to be able to travel. As a better paid courier she should be glad, no deeper questions of her background and hard cash. Being able to put her skills in survival training to the test along the areas that the Grand Roadways do not cover was par for the course.
Even just skulking through the shadows of a forested park was not much, But she was really starting to think about how her instincts for threats had failed her. It seemed like a worthwhile job, go around carrying missives to villages and small towns. Get paid, see the sights, not be required to clear out ravenous monsters or sadistic marauders. Now she wished to have her old job of being an animal trainer for that shitty patrician family.
The lechery was easier to deal with. Less chance of being killed by the gangs, they did not use back alley thugs that only needed a cut to know to run. No these were hardened mercenaries, enough steel and muscle to even hold off trained guards for a time. Along with enough connections each to be able to get off most crimes as long as no one talked or was crippled.
Creeping through the trimmed foliage she looked for the marks telling her where the exchange would happen. Finding the little clearing needed she threw a pebble in the little puddle there. Following that as figures emerged was a barrage of signs and countersigns, honing her eyes like a falcon on the many subtle signs to know who to pass a package to and where to bury things.... Getting rid of the evidence in a little pouch to be destroyed she made her way out along a different route. She was not really told who she actually worked for, nor could she actually know what she delivered.
The places changed every half cycle and bridged a dizzying mess across the Ducal state. She saw sights from the Old Imperial Gardenworks at Hon to the massive fortress docks of Kuri. Nice to sight see for relatively little with her travel pass but she had a feeling her pass was a little.... Expedited. She was no fool though, she knew that she would have to simply keep acting like everything was fine else there would be anything from a casual drip into her drink to a knife in the back. The guard forces were good of course, whether they solved every single case though was an entirely different thing. The many gangs and mafia groups are as strong as they are old, and there are deep roots in many places.
That was certainly made apparent as she walked to her current safehouse. A subtle design of a Chanben Flower telling her that this was the correct place. A trio of copper coins to the sentries a sign that she was supposed to be there. That all done with she picked up food from the canteen for later and washed herself off in the water closet of her room. As she sat in her room she juggled the little string chain of silver and copper coins, her current payout. Almost as much cash as bounties for her adventurer days, just much more consistent.
Securing everything she decided it was best to go rest. The trip to the next job would be long and boring on one of the secretive caravans for those looking to get around without a record. It would be a boring few weeks, this month having the traveling week as well just to add to things. That thought being what drifted through her mind before sleep took her into its embrace.
When the morning bells tolled through the city it found Chaenath ready for the trip. Making her way through the streets and out of the city on the horse that was leased to her by the group she made her way to the gathering point. Nothing of particular notice occurred as she waited, bored but grudgingly acceptive of it. She still felt a deep ache for her animal companion, the plucky bird's bloodline had served her for generations. Now lost to simply mishap only a half season ago. All that history gone due to some bad food. Perhaps she could find another bird of that line, she could save up enough cash to be able to find one. Was it the Cuiltarna or the Verrathuth family whose rookery she had acquired her bird from?
It was back when she was only a teenager that she had gotten the first egg.... An alarm rang out from the front of the caravan. The tolls telling her that it was a bandit, no another bell is tolling a monster attack. Confusion rang through her mind but she had to join the fight. Getting her mount held by one of the caravan hands she took off on foot. The horse was not combat trained, it would be more a burden then an aid.
Her hand on her hunting sword the entire time until she spotted her first sign of trouble. A direwolf was circling around an isolated wagon. The handlers doing what they could with the cheap defense spears to hold it off. Bringing up her bow and getting her stance firm she unleashed an arrow. The expensive broadhead point doing its job and biting deep into the neck of the beast, it whirled drunkenly around and weakly growled. Its distraction earning it a cheap steel present to the side.
It lashed around with its body and the caravan hand toppled from the wagon and desperately tried to crawl between the wheels as the wolf found a target it could face. A few booted kicks to the head doing little to stop its attacks. A second arrowhead however did the trick as it pierced its side, this time a perfect shot to the heart. The wolf collapsed with ease and Chaenath strode forward cautiously with sword in hand. The thick curved blade ready to swing down, her sharp eyes noticed some details hidden before. A collar with a blue handkerchief was around the direwolf's neck, a sign it was tamed as an attack beast then.
A change in the noise from the front drew her attention however, she stepped past the two caravan hands trying to staunch the bleeding of the wounded one. A bodkin arrow held at the ready on her bow and her finger on the launch trigger. Looking she saw what was needed, figures in patchwork mail and padded armour swinging swords at the caravan guards. Blue headbands helping them and others know who was who. A slain horse from one such guard trapping a struggling figure before an attacker cracked their head with a metal club. Her arrow launched and threw him onto the ground screaming, the armour doing just enough to stop him from dying.
Hooking another arrow onto her string she held the trigger device well as she took her time to aim. The creak of the leather clad catch against the steel of the device a familiar sound. Another light squeeze and the arrow impacted another attacker. She heard rapid footsteps from behind her, a turn of the head and she could see more guards hurrying to the scene. Returning her attention to the fight she tried to help keep the blue clad attackers off.
The fight seemed to last hours as she traded shots with the attackers, their own archers trying to pick people off. The clash of blood and steel making her sick, but not enough to keep fighting. Her quiver starting to feel a little light before she felt a massive blastwave impact her.Looking she saw the charred remains of some of the wagons that were the front of the caravan. Her head ringing from when a chunk of wood had hit her leather cap she tried to regain her balance. She slightly panicked when she felt hands holding her but calmed when she saw that she was one of their own. Taking calming breaths she tried to see what exactly had happened.
A glimpse of a figure with a staff outstretched in the distance told her what she needed to know, a mage. Said figure quickly falling back as arrows chased them. She too tried to help but had to slump back as her head still spun. Just as soon as it had started did things end. The attackers running with their wounded as they unleashed shots. She thought she had heard one or two more impacts from spells but that could have been her imagination.
When her mind had gone over this detail again at a campsite as the caravan licked its wounds she shivered. Mages, good to have on your side but terrible on the other. She counted her blessings that it seemed they were a poor one, a properly equipped and trained mage was much more deadly than a few big fireballs. She remembered seeing a group of guards with a trained warmage tear apart an entire scratch company of rebellious mercs. Her mind tearing her thoughts to that scene.
It was not the impact of fireballs or thrown rocks that scared her, no it was the shields of wind and illusions that did it. The things that made a person die without any way of striking back, death by thirst or madness left a death that one cursed at. A shaking hand brought her back to the proper moment. A bowl filled with mediocre stew, she thanked the man and started eating. Warm food would be good, yes it was better to handle her complaining stomach.
POV Change
Walking around Chaenath could only use her more than thirty cycles of life to not be panicking at her situation. The diffuse lighting in this large park not giving her mind many comforts. Her life had gone from highs to lows before, that she could deal with. But this perpetual twilight seemed to grate at her even worse than any before. Greedy and desperate chevalier families trying for land grabs requiring years of piecemeal deals and negotiations before simply hurling mercenaries at each other, that was her typical experience with politics. But if this was what it was like in high society then she was terrified. It all started with a seemingly casual and normal meeting.
Some merchant group wanted to hire helpers and were looking for them somewhat on the cheap. Yet they did not want the confined serfs or other low level workers, they wanted someone skilled enough to be able to travel. As a better paid courier she should be glad, no deeper questions of her background and hard cash. Being able to put her skills in survival training to the test along the areas that the Grand Roadways do not cover was par for the course.
Even just skulking through the shadows of a forested park was not much, But she was really starting to think about how her instincts for threats had failed her. It seemed like a worthwhile job, go around carrying missives to villages and small towns. Get paid, see the sights, not be required to clear out ravenous monsters or sadistic marauders. Now she wished to have her old job of being an animal trainer for that shitty patrician family.
The lechery was easier to deal with. Less chance of being killed by the gangs, they did not use back alley thugs that only needed a cut to know to run. No these were hardened mercenaries, enough steel and muscle to even hold off trained guards for a time. Along with enough connections each to be able to get off most crimes as long as no one talked or was crippled.
Creeping through the trimmed foliage she looked for the marks telling her where the exchange would happen. Finding the little clearing needed she threw a pebble in the little puddle there. Following that as figures emerged was a barrage of signs and countersigns, honing her eyes like a falcon on the many subtle signs to know who to pass a package to and where to bury things.... Getting rid of the evidence in a little pouch to be destroyed she made her way out along a different route. She was not really told who she actually worked for, nor could she actually know what she delivered.
The places changed every half cycle and bridged a dizzying mess across the Ducal state. She saw sights from the Old Imperial Gardenworks at Hon to the massive fortress docks of Kuri. Nice to sight see for relatively little with her travel pass but she had a feeling her pass was a little.... Expedited. She was no fool though, she knew that she would have to simply keep acting like everything was fine else there would be anything from a casual drip into her drink to a knife in the back. The guard forces were good of course, whether they solved every single case though was an entirely different thing. The many gangs and mafia groups are as strong as they are old, and there are deep roots in many places.
That was certainly made apparent as she walked to her current safehouse. A subtle design of a Chanben Flower telling her that this was the correct place. A trio of copper coins to the sentries a sign that she was supposed to be there. That all done with she picked up food from the canteen for later and washed herself off in the water closet of her room. As she sat in her room she juggled the little string chain of silver and copper coins, her current payout. Almost as much cash as bounties for her adventurer days, just much more consistent.
Securing everything she decided it was best to go rest. The trip to the next job would be long and boring on one of the secretive caravans for those looking to get around without a record. It would be a boring few weeks, this month having the traveling week as well just to add to things. That thought being what drifted through her mind before sleep took her into its embrace.
When the morning bells tolled through the city it found Chaenath ready for the trip. Making her way through the streets and out of the city on the horse that was leased to her by the group she made her way to the gathering point. Nothing of particular notice occurred as she waited, bored but grudgingly acceptive of it. She still felt a deep ache for her animal companion, the plucky bird's bloodline had served her for generations. Now lost to simply mishap only a half season ago. All that history gone due to some bad food. Perhaps she could find another bird of that line, she could save up enough cash to be able to find one. Was it the Cuiltarna or the Verrathuth family whose rookery she had acquired her bird from?
It was back when she was only a teenager that she had gotten the first egg.... An alarm rang out from the front of the caravan. The tolls telling her that it was a bandit, no another bell is tolling a monster attack. Confusion rang through her mind but she had to join the fight. Getting her mount held by one of the caravan hands she took off on foot. The horse was not combat trained, it would be more a burden then an aid.
Her hand on her hunting sword the entire time until she spotted her first sign of trouble. A direwolf was circling around an isolated wagon. The handlers doing what they could with the cheap defense spears to hold it off. Bringing up her bow and getting her stance firm she unleashed an arrow. The expensive broadhead point doing its job and biting deep into the neck of the beast, it whirled drunkenly around and weakly growled. Its distraction earning it a cheap steel present to the side.
It lashed around with its body and the caravan hand toppled from the wagon and desperately tried to crawl between the wheels as the wolf found a target it could face. A few booted kicks to the head doing little to stop its attacks. A second arrowhead however did the trick as it pierced its side, this time a perfect shot to the heart. The wolf collapsed with ease and Chaenath strode forward cautiously with sword in hand. The thick curved blade ready to swing down, her sharp eyes noticed some details hidden before. A collar with a blue handkerchief was around the direwolf's neck, a sign it was tamed as an attack beast then.
A change in the noise from the front drew her attention however, she stepped past the two caravan hands trying to staunch the bleeding of the wounded one. A bodkin arrow held at the ready on her bow and her finger on the launch trigger. Looking she saw what was needed, figures in patchwork mail and padded armour swinging swords at the caravan guards. Blue headbands helping them and others know who was who. A slain horse from one such guard trapping a struggling figure before an attacker cracked their head with a metal club. Her arrow launched and threw him onto the ground screaming, the armour doing just enough to stop him from dying.
Hooking another arrow onto her string she held the trigger device well as she took her time to aim. The creak of the leather clad catch against the steel of the device a familiar sound. Another light squeeze and the arrow impacted another attacker. She heard rapid footsteps from behind her, a turn of the head and she could see more guards hurrying to the scene. Returning her attention to the fight she tried to help keep the blue clad attackers off.
The fight seemed to last hours as she traded shots with the attackers, their own archers trying to pick people off. The clash of blood and steel making her sick, but not enough to keep fighting. Her quiver starting to feel a little light before she felt a massive blastwave impact her.Looking she saw the charred remains of some of the wagons that were the front of the caravan. Her head ringing from when a chunk of wood had hit her leather cap she tried to regain her balance. She slightly panicked when she felt hands holding her but calmed when she saw that she was one of their own. Taking calming breaths she tried to see what exactly had happened.
A glimpse of a figure with a staff outstretched in the distance told her what she needed to know, a mage. Said figure quickly falling back as arrows chased them. She too tried to help but had to slump back as her head still spun. Just as soon as it had started did things end. The attackers running with their wounded as they unleashed shots. She thought she had heard one or two more impacts from spells but that could have been her imagination.
When her mind had gone over this detail again at a campsite as the caravan licked its wounds she shivered. Mages, good to have on your side but terrible on the other. She counted her blessings that it seemed they were a poor one, a properly equipped and trained mage was much more deadly than a few big fireballs. She remembered seeing a group of guards with a trained warmage tear apart an entire scratch company of rebellious mercs. Her mind tearing her thoughts to that scene.
It was not the impact of fireballs or thrown rocks that scared her, no it was the shields of wind and illusions that did it. The things that made a person die without any way of striking back, death by thirst or madness left a death that one cursed at. A shaking hand brought her back to the proper moment. A bowl filled with mediocre stew, she thanked the man and started eating. Warm food would be good, yes it was better to handle her complaining stomach.
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