Mureyk saves supply wagon
Ashes on The Wind … it was a harsh wind that came from the east. One of the bandits got mouthy at the man who stepped out of the woods to save the supply wagon. It … did not end so well for that bandit. The rest of them …
Category: Towns
Topic: SolhavenDate: 01/27/2017 08:19 PM CSTFrom: GS4-LYDILSubj: Ashes on the WindA harsh wind came out of the east, knocking snow off bare tree limbs, as it blew along the hard frozen ground. It caused snow to swirl and tumble, until it was broken up as it struck upon a wagon stopped in the middle of the road. Its occupants were huddled together upon the front seat of the wagon while four unsavory individuals stood before them. One stood closer to the wagon than the rest, a large ugly club held over one shoulder.“I told you this would be an easy score,” he gloated to his companions, “Because now they are going to give us everything they have.”
“B…b…but these are supplies for the camp,” whimpered the merchant, a dark bruise already evident on his face.
“Not anymore. Now get off that flaming wagon before we make ya.”
Before the large thug could say anything further, a flicker of light drew everyone’s attention to the surrounding woods. A tall torch stood burning in the middle of the ground, with a lone man standing before it, thumbs tucked into the thick belt around his waist.
“Vultures. Rats. Crows. I hate all of them, but not as much as interlopers like you,” the newcomer said, the disdain on his words nearly as cold as the weather. “You come to a place and think you can pick something clean because it is dying. Too stupid to realize you picked the wrong mark.”
“Don’t know who ya are pal, but ya picked the wrong place to take a walk,” spat the lead thug.
One of his companions reached out to grab his arm and hissed, “Grep, stop! Don’t you know who he is?”
“The flaming fool who is about to be a blood splat, that’s who,” Grep snarled as he shoved the man back and brandished his club.
He got two steps towards the newcomer before the man smoothly drew two axes from the loops on his belt. On his third step the man flowed forward and threw one of the axes. On the fourth step Grep fell to his knee, screaming obscenities and clutching the bleeding stump where his right hand used to be. He never made it a fifth step. A moment later the axe flew back into the newcomer’s hand.
“Ya rat bastard. Gonna make ya squeal like a pig for what ya did to my hand!”
The man just looked down at Grep, the nearby torch illuminating the pale scar running down one side of his face. Grep opened his mouth to continue his tirade, but with a flash of steel and crimson, Grep fell to the snow and never said another word again. The man stepped over the crimson stained snow and approached the wagon and three men standing before it.
“Maybe some of you are brighter than you look. Here’s your chance to prove it,” Mureyk stated as he calmly wiped the blood off his axe. “This is where you leave and do not come back. We don’t need your types here and definitely don’t need your mouths to feed. But if you would be dumb enough to come back, you are going to wish you were your friend over there.”
He began to turn away from them and move towards the wagon when he stopped. “Oh, and if you might get the idea another body would solve this little problem for you, something else you might want to consider.”
More torches flickered to life in the woods, one after another after another, until they formed a large half circle behind the wagon and Mureyk. Clearly visible standing near each torch were heavily cloaked figures, with many carrying a bow or crossbow. The three surviving brigands gave each other a silent look and slowly moved away from the wagon and the trouble they had discovered.
“Oh thank you, thank you so much!” the merchant cried out as Mureyk approached him, “I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t shown up when you did.”
Mureyk let out a short smile as he looked up at the wagon. “We simply are doing what needs to be done. And speaking of that, we should discuss your payment.”
“P…p…payment?”
“Tariff? Tithe? Tax? However you would like to frame it. For protection rendered. For crossing the border and travelling through here.”
“You are just like them! You are just a bunch of robbers!”
“We are nothing like them. If we were, you would not be here to have this conversation,” Mureyk responded as the smile faded from his face. His eyes scanning the wagon, and the crates visible upon it. “Now there is nothing to be afraid of, this is just a little talk.”
He slid his axe back into the loop on his belt and continued to approach the wagon. “After all there is nothing to be afraid of. We’re the good guys.”
Out where the dreams all hide
Out here the wind don’t blow
Out here the birds don’t sing
Out here the fields don’t grow
Out here the good guys die