Flashback The world is unfair.... for some

[Mortas Darkscourge]

30th of Spring, 500 AV The sun was already high in the air, the weather was perfect. There was heat from the sun but also a light breeze causing the vibrant green grass he was lying in to sway with the wind. There was sounds of insects around him, comforting noises. This tranquility was interrupted by Turd. "Travellers comin' up!" he whispered in his deep gravelly voice. His disfigured face awash with anticipation. They both crawled to the top of their incline and looked for Amon. Amon was the leader of the group, Mortas was also his "son". Mortas called Amon father but he always remembered his own parents, he couldn't replace them. As the travellers approached Mortas looked for the signal. The last two groups had brought too many armed guards with them for a safe attack. These on the other hand looked like easy prey, and then Caw!, the sound of a crow breaking the silence, that was the signal. Jumping to his feet Mortas drew his Shortbow. It was already apparent the travellers weren't going to make it, they only had two armed guards with them! Steadying his breath Mortas tried to slow his rapidly beating heart, he had to impress here. Pulling back the draw string to his cheek, Mortas loosed an arrow at one of the guards. Thud!, the arrow hit the ground. "Petch" he whispered under his breath, he only had 2 more shots before the majority of the gang moved in to mop up any resistance with melee. Again! This time he would hit, once more he brought the string back, aiming at his target beforehand. Twang the arrow soared through the air in a perfect arc until the last chime when it seemed to drop. Judging by the scream of the guard it still hit, but where? The shaft had turned black with blood and was protruding from the guard's leg, just above the kneecap. "Good shot lad" Turd yelled, he was poised for action and ready to put his dangerous mace to use. Seeing the death of his comrade the other guard broke and began to run, trying to save himself before the mostly unarmed civilians. Coward. Mortas aimed for the guard but it was hard to get a good shot with all the stumbling the guard was doing, just when Mortas thought he had a good shot and was about to let another shaft loose. A long black feathered shaft punched through the guard's armor with a sickening thud. Well that was most of the danger taken care of... but just as he was about to give Turd the all clear he saw something in the corner of his eye, a traveller, most likely a hunter had a bow in his hand and was searching for a target. Quickly turning Mortas drew back and loosed an arrow. He had never managed a shot with the same speed and accuracy for a long time, considering he was quite a novice marksman. The arrow soared and buried itself in the hunter's chest. Mortas hadn't any time to dwell on the fact he may have just killed a man, he was already running down the hill with Turd and the other gang members, weapons in hand, screaming war cries at the top of their lungs, most of the peasants dropped to their knees in a sign of submission but a few brave souls fought on, one such soul was a boy around Mortas' age, who charged at Turd with nothing but a sharpened eating knife... he didn't last long, a haymaker from Turd into the stomach had him lying on the ground and gasping for breath and shackled. His future sealed. However Mortas' role wasn't to deal with any of the resistance but to shackle all the surrendered ones to prevent them running away, the young, the old, women or children, none were spared from slavery. A few minutes later it was all done, all the remaining resistance were either dead or shackled. Now it came to the part which Mortas had no idea about, but the other's seemed to relish it.