Post by Horas on Nov 19, 2008 17:12:21 GMT -5
“Mooooo” the oxen lowed, straining themselves against the yoke to which they were hitched.
“I can’t say I blame them,” Shadd Burley said. “I’m fit to start complaining myself here pretty soon.”
In truth, Ondrew thought to himself, his father’s youngest brother had done little but complain since they’d started their journey from the Burley lands, high in the Lonely hills, headed north along the Last River. Grandpa, no he should be called The Burley, Ondrew corrected himself, had consented to let Ondrew join the escort to the northern mountains, to conduct the semi-annual trading with the other clans. They were expected at the Knott trade moot by the next turn of the moon, but going had been slow. Than again, the escort was larger then usual. Usually it only took two men, but this year Grandpa Herdon had said they should bring six because there’d been some feuding with the Liddles of late. The elders hadn’t told him what it was all about, although Allard (who was Meryn’s third son, although Ondrew wasn’t sure how that made He and Allard related) said it was on account of some Liddle had gone and slept with Mace Burley’s wife Megga at the festival a few months back. Ondrew didn’t believe that, but that was the story that seemed to be going around anyway.
Shadd seemed about to open his mouth and complain again, when they reached the ford where they’d be crossing the river, and making their way up to the moot.
“Ho there!”
Ondrew, awakened from his day dreaming looked up, to spot a man wearing a dark green tunic and leaning on the wooden handle of a long-bearded axe behind a teardrop shaped shield with what passed as pine cone painted on it. The cone marked him as a Liddle. Close behind him stood another two men. One with a wicked looking sickle, the other with a boar spear.
Shadd grunted loud enough to draw Ondrew’s attention. His elder cousin had placed his hand on the hatchet in his belt.
“What your trouble?” the Burley man asked.
“No trouble an ox-cart full of goods to take home to the wife wouldn’t solve Burley.” The Liddle man rocked back on his heels, and slung the shield onto his back, and took his axe in both hands.
“Now there ain’t no cause for it to be as that Liddle. We’ve got six to your three, so why don’t you just run along back to that wife you got.” There was a distinct “whistling” sound and suddenly Uncle Shadd was on the ground, clutching his arm.
”Bastard Bowmen!” Shadd snarled, his arm pinned to his chest by the shaft of the arrow launched from somewhere in the underbrush beyond the ford. Another Burley man fell with an arrow sprouting up from his throat. The other men ducked behind the Ox cart as the bowmen tried their best to feather them as well. Ondrew looked back at the cart. It was eight steps to try and take cover but only four steps to the Liddles on the small wooden bridge.
Ondrew decided the direct approach was best. Better than waiting to catch an arrow in the chest. He crossed the distance in a series of bounds, as he drew his dirk from its sheath in the same movement. He narrowly sidestepped the man’s sickle, as he ducked under the man’s guard and planted the blade up under his chin and into the man’s skull. The man with the boar spear lunged, but the bridge of old logs was too narrow, and the fighting to close. Ondrew caught the shaft of the spear with his left hand and yanked it hard. Not wanting to lose his only weapon the man held firm, only to catch ‘Drew’s blade in the belly instead. A flurry of arrows struck all around him, one in the ground at his foot, and two into the back of the man with the spear.
“Burley!” His brethren shouted, taking heart, they moved to follow Ondrew’s lead, although another one took an arrow in the gut for the trouble.
“Whoreson!” the Liddle with the axe cried, bringing the long bladed axe down. Ondrew tried to hold it off with the shaft of the spear, but it snapped the hard ashwood in two with ease. Still, it slowed the blow enough for the young Burley teen to side step the blade. Dropping the remains of the spear, he latched on to the axe shaft with both hands. The Liddle gave a shout of surprise and anger, and let go of the axe to cuff Ondrew across the face. If he thought the blow would be enough of a distraction to make the Burley boy let go, he’d miscalculated. With a wrenching twist of his hips Ondrew took the axe in his hand, twirled it back towards the Liddle and brought the blade down through the man’s collar bone. He dropped like a sack of yams. Clutching the axe between two white knuckled hands, Ondrew pressed forward, into a dense line of ferns. He heard a scream behind him, which told him the bowmen had landed another shot. He spotted two bowmen, and closed the gap towards them quickly. One loosed his arrow, which nicked Ondrew’s left ear, taking a bloody chunk out of it, before Ondrew planted the axe in the man’s shoulder blade. The other bowmen turned tail and began to flee, as Ondrew brought his axe down through the injured one’s skull.
When he looked up from the killing, he saw the archer had escaped. Chasing after him would be foolish, He’d likely end up with a arrow in his belly for the trouble. So he doubled back towards his clansman. Uncle Shadd was holding his left arm with his right, and grimacing in pain. Three of them, not counting his uncle, had died or would soon die.
“Last one got away.” Ondrew said as he examined the axe he’d taken. Despite the thick red blood around the head, He could tell it was good castle forged steel. He wondered who the Liddle had taken it from.
“Bryn Burley’s daughter was married to a Knott around these parts.” Shadd said, “If we hurry we might be able to find their place before dark.”
Results:
Ondrew Burley improves towards Master Axe
Ondrew Burley improves to Noteworthy small blades
“I can’t say I blame them,” Shadd Burley said. “I’m fit to start complaining myself here pretty soon.”
In truth, Ondrew thought to himself, his father’s youngest brother had done little but complain since they’d started their journey from the Burley lands, high in the Lonely hills, headed north along the Last River. Grandpa, no he should be called The Burley, Ondrew corrected himself, had consented to let Ondrew join the escort to the northern mountains, to conduct the semi-annual trading with the other clans. They were expected at the Knott trade moot by the next turn of the moon, but going had been slow. Than again, the escort was larger then usual. Usually it only took two men, but this year Grandpa Herdon had said they should bring six because there’d been some feuding with the Liddles of late. The elders hadn’t told him what it was all about, although Allard (who was Meryn’s third son, although Ondrew wasn’t sure how that made He and Allard related) said it was on account of some Liddle had gone and slept with Mace Burley’s wife Megga at the festival a few months back. Ondrew didn’t believe that, but that was the story that seemed to be going around anyway.
Shadd seemed about to open his mouth and complain again, when they reached the ford where they’d be crossing the river, and making their way up to the moot.
“Ho there!”
Ondrew, awakened from his day dreaming looked up, to spot a man wearing a dark green tunic and leaning on the wooden handle of a long-bearded axe behind a teardrop shaped shield with what passed as pine cone painted on it. The cone marked him as a Liddle. Close behind him stood another two men. One with a wicked looking sickle, the other with a boar spear.
Shadd grunted loud enough to draw Ondrew’s attention. His elder cousin had placed his hand on the hatchet in his belt.
“What your trouble?” the Burley man asked.
“No trouble an ox-cart full of goods to take home to the wife wouldn’t solve Burley.” The Liddle man rocked back on his heels, and slung the shield onto his back, and took his axe in both hands.
“Now there ain’t no cause for it to be as that Liddle. We’ve got six to your three, so why don’t you just run along back to that wife you got.” There was a distinct “whistling” sound and suddenly Uncle Shadd was on the ground, clutching his arm.
”Bastard Bowmen!” Shadd snarled, his arm pinned to his chest by the shaft of the arrow launched from somewhere in the underbrush beyond the ford. Another Burley man fell with an arrow sprouting up from his throat. The other men ducked behind the Ox cart as the bowmen tried their best to feather them as well. Ondrew looked back at the cart. It was eight steps to try and take cover but only four steps to the Liddles on the small wooden bridge.
Ondrew decided the direct approach was best. Better than waiting to catch an arrow in the chest. He crossed the distance in a series of bounds, as he drew his dirk from its sheath in the same movement. He narrowly sidestepped the man’s sickle, as he ducked under the man’s guard and planted the blade up under his chin and into the man’s skull. The man with the boar spear lunged, but the bridge of old logs was too narrow, and the fighting to close. Ondrew caught the shaft of the spear with his left hand and yanked it hard. Not wanting to lose his only weapon the man held firm, only to catch ‘Drew’s blade in the belly instead. A flurry of arrows struck all around him, one in the ground at his foot, and two into the back of the man with the spear.
“Burley!” His brethren shouted, taking heart, they moved to follow Ondrew’s lead, although another one took an arrow in the gut for the trouble.
“Whoreson!” the Liddle with the axe cried, bringing the long bladed axe down. Ondrew tried to hold it off with the shaft of the spear, but it snapped the hard ashwood in two with ease. Still, it slowed the blow enough for the young Burley teen to side step the blade. Dropping the remains of the spear, he latched on to the axe shaft with both hands. The Liddle gave a shout of surprise and anger, and let go of the axe to cuff Ondrew across the face. If he thought the blow would be enough of a distraction to make the Burley boy let go, he’d miscalculated. With a wrenching twist of his hips Ondrew took the axe in his hand, twirled it back towards the Liddle and brought the blade down through the man’s collar bone. He dropped like a sack of yams. Clutching the axe between two white knuckled hands, Ondrew pressed forward, into a dense line of ferns. He heard a scream behind him, which told him the bowmen had landed another shot. He spotted two bowmen, and closed the gap towards them quickly. One loosed his arrow, which nicked Ondrew’s left ear, taking a bloody chunk out of it, before Ondrew planted the axe in the man’s shoulder blade. The other bowmen turned tail and began to flee, as Ondrew brought his axe down through the injured one’s skull.
When he looked up from the killing, he saw the archer had escaped. Chasing after him would be foolish, He’d likely end up with a arrow in his belly for the trouble. So he doubled back towards his clansman. Uncle Shadd was holding his left arm with his right, and grimacing in pain. Three of them, not counting his uncle, had died or would soon die.
“Last one got away.” Ondrew said as he examined the axe he’d taken. Despite the thick red blood around the head, He could tell it was good castle forged steel. He wondered who the Liddle had taken it from.
“Bryn Burley’s daughter was married to a Knott around these parts.” Shadd said, “If we hurry we might be able to find their place before dark.”
Results:
Ondrew Burley improves towards Master Axe
Ondrew Burley improves to Noteworthy small blades