Post by The Stranger on May 26, 2008 2:54:14 GMT -5
Rowyn sat slumped in his saddle, weary and sick at heart. He scratched his cheek idly and traced the half-formed scab there, his mind wandering back to his escape from the Reach. Where he'd earned it.
Rowyn had thought himself safe after escaping Oakheart lands, but he had been wrong. His brother's men had caught him in a small wooded area outside Bitterbridge. Mercenaries and free-riders, they were, not permanent men of Rodwell's household. Trust his older brother to send scum to do the job, men who would have no qualms about beating a once-famed Reahman to a bloody pulp. It was his own fault, really. He had always been reckless, and had been stupid enough to kindle a fire in his makeshift camp. Rowyn started as a voice rang out from the trees around him. "Mistake, boy. Ya shoulda kept on running, never stopped." The young Oakheart fumbled for his blade as a figure materialised from the forest before him."Who-" he began, and whirled as he heard a snigger from behind him, it's source another hulking shadow just outside the firelights radius. Rowyn felt a cold sweat on his spine as he spotted yet another man to his left. Three, and that was just what he could see.
He turned to face the first man anew. "If Rodwell has sent you here, tell him I do not apologise for what I did." He grasped the hilt of his sword threateningly. "And the blade is mine now. Tell hm father would have wished it wielded by someone worthy. Maybe not me, but definitely not him."
"Oh, it ain't just the blade we're after boy," the man sneered in reply, and Rowyn noticed a livid pimple on his nose as he did. "It's you, though we're asposed to make sure no one ever finds you....if you get my meaning," he cackled wickedly, drawing a longsword. No, no! Rowyn thought desperately.Rodwell may be a prick, but he's my brother!
But all he said was "Come then," kicking a flaming branch into Pimple's face. Rowyn whirled to face the other two as Pimple screamed. The big man carried a worn mace, the smaller, ginger-haired one wielding shortsword and shield. Rowyn ripped his blade from the scabbard at his back, just in time to meet a looping slash from Ginger. The blades locked, and Rowyn dropped to one knee, kicking the small man's legs from underneath him. But he had forgotten the giant. He staggered as a clumsy blow from the mace crashed into his back, still strong enough to knock the breath from him.
Rowyn just about managed to keep his feet, and he turned to face the giant once more. The man grinned nastily as he raised the heavy weapon again, and Rowyn darted right, out of it's destructive path. Ginger-hair was not so lucky. The mace made mushy pulp of his skull as he was rising dazedly, and Rowyn wasred no time in thrusting his blade between the giants ribs, turning his look of dismay to one of pain and confusion as he sank to the earth
All this unfolded in a matter of seconds, but Pimple was quick, the bastard. Rowyn pivoted just in time to deflect a strike that would have cleaved his skull clean in two. The men circled, and Rowyn called out "Run. Run to my brother, and tell him you never found me. Tell him I'm dead , the blade lost. I don't care, he'll never see me again.Just leave me be!"
The man ignored him, dashing in with a thrust that took all Rowyn had to avoid instead. So be it. He returned a thrust of his own, but Pimple darted aside and his steel scored a livid red line down the left side of Rowyn's face, below the eye. Anger pulsed through the young Reachman then, and his hands gained a new speed as he pressed forward.
Pimple was no amateur however, and held his ground, his own sword whirling as he met Rowyn's each time. This continued for minutes, or hours, Rowyn couldn't tell, as they struggled over and back across the campsite. Rowyn's world descended into a storm of flashing steel, leaden arms, and hoarse grunts, until finally their blades met, and locked.
Rowyn threw all his weight forward, and Pimple fell back as the Reachman punched him right on his namesake. Then Oakheart's blade flashed once, twice and suddenly the man was screaming, his left arm ending at the elbow, and the only thing supporting him was the Reachman's blade embedded in his gut. Rowyn brought his face close to the other man's.
"You should've run," he said through gritted teeth, twisting. "And never stopped,"he grunted, yanking the blade free.
Rowyn increases towards Master of Sword
Rowyn had thought himself safe after escaping Oakheart lands, but he had been wrong. His brother's men had caught him in a small wooded area outside Bitterbridge. Mercenaries and free-riders, they were, not permanent men of Rodwell's household. Trust his older brother to send scum to do the job, men who would have no qualms about beating a once-famed Reahman to a bloody pulp. It was his own fault, really. He had always been reckless, and had been stupid enough to kindle a fire in his makeshift camp. Rowyn started as a voice rang out from the trees around him. "Mistake, boy. Ya shoulda kept on running, never stopped." The young Oakheart fumbled for his blade as a figure materialised from the forest before him."Who-" he began, and whirled as he heard a snigger from behind him, it's source another hulking shadow just outside the firelights radius. Rowyn felt a cold sweat on his spine as he spotted yet another man to his left. Three, and that was just what he could see.
He turned to face the first man anew. "If Rodwell has sent you here, tell him I do not apologise for what I did." He grasped the hilt of his sword threateningly. "And the blade is mine now. Tell hm father would have wished it wielded by someone worthy. Maybe not me, but definitely not him."
"Oh, it ain't just the blade we're after boy," the man sneered in reply, and Rowyn noticed a livid pimple on his nose as he did. "It's you, though we're asposed to make sure no one ever finds you....if you get my meaning," he cackled wickedly, drawing a longsword. No, no! Rowyn thought desperately.Rodwell may be a prick, but he's my brother!
But all he said was "Come then," kicking a flaming branch into Pimple's face. Rowyn whirled to face the other two as Pimple screamed. The big man carried a worn mace, the smaller, ginger-haired one wielding shortsword and shield. Rowyn ripped his blade from the scabbard at his back, just in time to meet a looping slash from Ginger. The blades locked, and Rowyn dropped to one knee, kicking the small man's legs from underneath him. But he had forgotten the giant. He staggered as a clumsy blow from the mace crashed into his back, still strong enough to knock the breath from him.
Rowyn just about managed to keep his feet, and he turned to face the giant once more. The man grinned nastily as he raised the heavy weapon again, and Rowyn darted right, out of it's destructive path. Ginger-hair was not so lucky. The mace made mushy pulp of his skull as he was rising dazedly, and Rowyn wasred no time in thrusting his blade between the giants ribs, turning his look of dismay to one of pain and confusion as he sank to the earth
All this unfolded in a matter of seconds, but Pimple was quick, the bastard. Rowyn pivoted just in time to deflect a strike that would have cleaved his skull clean in two. The men circled, and Rowyn called out "Run. Run to my brother, and tell him you never found me. Tell him I'm dead , the blade lost. I don't care, he'll never see me again.Just leave me be!"
The man ignored him, dashing in with a thrust that took all Rowyn had to avoid instead. So be it. He returned a thrust of his own, but Pimple darted aside and his steel scored a livid red line down the left side of Rowyn's face, below the eye. Anger pulsed through the young Reachman then, and his hands gained a new speed as he pressed forward.
Pimple was no amateur however, and held his ground, his own sword whirling as he met Rowyn's each time. This continued for minutes, or hours, Rowyn couldn't tell, as they struggled over and back across the campsite. Rowyn's world descended into a storm of flashing steel, leaden arms, and hoarse grunts, until finally their blades met, and locked.
Rowyn threw all his weight forward, and Pimple fell back as the Reachman punched him right on his namesake. Then Oakheart's blade flashed once, twice and suddenly the man was screaming, his left arm ending at the elbow, and the only thing supporting him was the Reachman's blade embedded in his gut. Rowyn brought his face close to the other man's.
"You should've run," he said through gritted teeth, twisting. "And never stopped,"he grunted, yanking the blade free.
Rowyn increases towards Master of Sword