Ransacked on the Reaches [Flashback] (Darren)

[Mortemor Thane II]

Winter 510 AV If it were night or day, it could not be determined for the caravan that chose to ride on in the midst of a raging blizzard. Winds howled violently, hurling down sheet after sheet of snow and bits of ice onto the pack animals, which caused them to become hesitant in their march. The sturdy beasts were pushed on by their well trained, and paid for handlers. Who, although, pressed on into the white maelstrom; were unsure if they had stayed on the trail. The caravan was six carts long and packed tightly with an assortment of different trinkets, that had found their way across the lands and oceans, and into Mortemor Thane Sr.’s shop. Heavy oxen and horses towed the parade through the Northern Reaches. They had nearly arrived in Avanthal, the lights of the city glowed faintly in the distance, barely penetrating the thick fog the winter storm created. It was hardly a whisper of light; but it was enough to keep them moving forward. Old man Mortemor was making his annual trip to Avanthal to trade and restock with the many resources they had to offer, particularly on a special mineral called icerock, which he had cleverly used to store his products for longer. This time he planned to come back with enough to turn the cellar into a meat locker. The old devil sat at the helm of the convoy, the reins of a healthy ox clutched in his broad, and heavily wrapped palms. his salt and pepper beard that had been braided tightly, and held together by one of his wife's artisan beads, whipped violently in the wind. The rest of his body had been covered in the appropriate furs and wrappings to shut out the cold. “Ooonnn-! Wwaard--!!” Thane Sr. roared above the racing winds, pushing his men to continue. He knew that it would not be safe in the middle of the Talderan wilds, with cargo and raging storms passing over. All these signs spelled omen for the trip, but the old man was stubborn, and he had men to pay and mouths to feed! He wasn’t going to let a little chilly breeze stop him! Just then a violent gust threatened to rip the canopy off his wagon, the fabric of it rattled wildly. “Father-! We have to stop! We can’t see anything—” Mortemor Jr. his Daughter, who had been sitting with the cargo of the wagon, struggled to crawl over toppled merchandise for the sake of reasoning with her father; who she had begun to assume was mad. Her long winter robes played against her efforts, as it clung on to many of the obstacles she crawled over. “Nonsense child, if we stop we have a higher chance of being picked off by the wilds animals… Or worse--! Thieves!! No good scoundrels!” Thane Sr. snorted and whipped at the ox in front of him. “But weren’t you a th—“ Mortemor Jr. was about to point out her father’s past, but was interrupted by his large palm; which had suddenly grasped her shoulder and pushed her back into the cart. “Down girl… I see footsteps in the snow ahead…” The older gentleman cautioned. Mortemor Sr. watched the indentures in the snow roll by him as he sat on his wagon. “Probably travelers, or natives, lost like us…” One of Mortemor Sr.’s men called up to him. Thane Sr. could see the faint glow of city lights in the distance, but he knew no native that would be foolish enough to wander out into a blizzard; and if it were a traveler, at the speed they were moving, they would have run into them by now. The old leader shook his head, “I don’t like the looks of this…” Thane Jr. huddled in the back of the cart amongst the wooden furniture her father had acquired from a native Syrlian. The young woman trusted her father’s instinct, knowing full well that he was once in the business of thievery and he usually was right when he smelled a rat. As if on cue, the bone chilling winds began to calm, allowing for minimum visibility. “This isn’t good…” Senior had already begun reaching for his sword before the real storm came down. Utilizing the window of visibility the storm offered, men dressed in white furs from head to toe, including their faces; tore out from the trees, and beneath loose blankets of powdery snow; springing from their camouflage to launch the well laid ambush. “WAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!” A few of the bandits hollered in order to scare the pack animals and cause further confusion. Mortemor Sr. kept a tight rein on his bull, and all though it had not been spooked by the yelling. A bandit charging in, brandishing a long knife was enough to stir the massive beast. It bucked and shook Thane Sr. from the driver’s seat; sending the older male to the ground with his sword in hand. The cart, on the other hand, took off with the most precious cargo still inside and holding on for dear life. “What’s going on!!!??” Morte Jr. shrieked, clinging to an armoire; as smaller items came free from their shelves, and began to rattle and bounce around the cargo hold with her inside it. The rest of the caravan was busy defending from the bandit attacks, several small sword and knife fights had broken out among the thieves and crew men. While other, sneakier, thieves chose to pop in and out of the scene; carrying precious load after load of loot with them.

[Darren]

Outside of Avanthal and only eight or so bells away from it's walls, the resolute Vantha was given another traditional training session that his predecessor before him did. See just how long they can survive out of the Icewall alone. Though the actual terms of this display were somewhat distorted in what to do. There wasn't any actual guidelines, per se. In fact, the young Vantha could have just hung outside the gates for a time. However, such a prudent act would go against what he would stand for or at least what was instilled into him so far. No. Darren made his way far from the city until he was only able to see it's lights from a distance. "Sometimes I think my dad just comes up with these half-baked trials." For now he would rest and find solace for a moment before continuing on. This was an opportunity to test just how far along he has come. First few minutes in he was relaxed as he pressed his back up against a tree, though focused Darren already was facing a few problems. Though the initial area outside of the Icewatch gates were safe he would still have to keep watch for any possible threats. While doing that he would have to secure food and shelter when it got darker, something that he wasn't too familiar with. *Sigh* "I suppose I'll make do. This isn't too bad really... odd requests are my thing. " Standing poised, Darren continued on as he tried to find the necessary basics. Coming across minor cover he found little to go off of. I don't suppose I can eat a pinecone now could I? Cutting his loses Darren settled for gathering what firewood he can acquire. With no axe or bladed instruments to speak of Darren only managed to get dead branches and whatever else was within arm's reach. Finally, his work was done procuring seven branches, an armful of sticks and a stump to sit on. Laying out the material near the makeshift seat, he made a crude circle with the materials as he then pulled out one of his gloves. Grabbing a few sticks from the pile he applied it longways through a sharper edge of the metal, that was to be his tinder and that was what was going to get him through this whole ordeal."Alright, that's that. I... suppose... I should start the fire now. Figure out food and boredom problems later." That and the lonliness problem, I HATE being alone in the wilderness. Putting away his gauntlets, Darren then rifled though his pack before procuring a flint and tinder. Already twenty chimes in with little success. Darren managed to make a few embers start up, he even had a small flame flicker up for a moment before it was taken by a gust of wind."Damn it all" Coming back with more materials he managed to make a makeshift wall to cover the circle until he had a healthy fire, he tried his hand once more. His next attempts came with a degree of success as his eyes tentatively watched in anticipation. He recognized the movements that caused the most success, now to keep a steady momentum till he had one... There!I have finally done it! A fire, a promising young piece of Ivak's realm flickered vibrantly in his presence, a small yet very vital accomplishment in his survival skills. Perhaps he would do better then his father expected in this trial. No... that man always seemed to know. The young vantha breathed out a long sigh, content as he looked blankly to the horizon. Yet this time was meant to be a time of basking in oneself outside forces interrupted his time alone. A fierce warcry echoed throughout the snowy expanse as Darren went up with a start. As he looked back at where the sound originated he would look back to see his 'campfire' snuffed out. He cried out a slight exasperation, before his eyes scanned again angrily. There! His eyes started to turn red as he soon found a few pockets of activity not too far from him. "Someone's going to pay." he muttered low as he ran towards the group.

[Mortemor Thane II]

[quote="Mortemor Thane II"]

“Mortemor--!!!” Sr. hollered desperately as the spooked oxen raced off into the Talderan wilds. It rolled violently over rough terrain and rocks, and the cart itself groaned sharply; threatening to come off its hinges. “Father--!!” Jr. cried holding on tightly to back of the canopy on the wagon. Every fiber of Mortemor Sr.’s being compelled him to pursue the runaway wagon, but his path was barred by quickly closing in bandits. The white fur the thieves sported was an unfair advantage in the raging winter storm, making them nearly invisible among the swirling tundra. They closed in but Thane Sr. was ready for them. With sword poised, he dispatched one after another, fighting his way toward his daughter. The rest of the caravan was holding their own, with both sides of the skirmish taking injury. By now most of the merchandise had been tossed from the carts and was either swept up by a fleeing thief or left abandoned in the snow. The horses and oxen struggled wildly to be free of their bonds, protesting their handlers every effort to calm them. They neighed and whinnied, and bucked, and snorted; adding in an extra element of danger for the crew men, with the possibility of being trampled by their own pack beasts. Unfortunately the bull currently fleeing, with Jr. still inside of its wagon, caught sight of a young man charging out from the tree line. His attire was consisted of layers of black and white leather and furs, and his eyes were a blazing red. He had a steeled unamused look on his face as he came on to the scene of the ambush. The bull, automatically being hateful of the color red, locked onto the young man’s eyes in the sea of white and suddenly became enraged. The massive beast came at him with surprising agility, angrily snorting, and stubbornly tugging the massive cart behind it. The spokes of the wheels had already begun to bust, and a few more seconds of bouncing over rough terrain would cause the wheels to splinter and shatter off the axel. “MMMOOooooOO--!!” The bull rumbled, announcing its charge and angling its horns, (despite them being tethered to the wagon). Mortemor Jr. attempted over and over again to navigate the quickly deteriorating cargo hold and get to the reins. But not only did the bouncing knock her around with ease, her winter cloak continued to grab onto loose objects; trapping her each time she tried to escape. “Someone HELP--!!!” Jr. shrieked as the bull charged on.

Quick SummaryBattle escalates, stuff gets thrown around and the bull currently running away, with Morte inside it's cart, has begun charging at Darren due to his red eyes. Now Darren gets to be all super hero like lol do your thing Darren~! ^.^ (if you want me to edit anything, please let me know)

[Darren]

Darren quickly realized something was amiss as he made his way to the skirmish. "What the..." Through the cascading snow the visages of the ambushers were finally starting to catch his attention. His brow furrowed quietly deciding on his course of action. Granted I could help them but I could possibly be seen as just another attacker to the caravan. Instead the Vantha stood steadfast as he watched the clash if it didn't bode well for the convoy he would intervene, for now everything seemed fine. Rather it was okay until the bandits excited the the animals into a frenzy. Darren's gaze found itself watching the beasts of burden as they started to stampede out of control with one of the bulls ominously running in his general direction. "Crap. Crap! Crap!!!" Realizing that he wasn't in the safest of places Darren took a few steps to the side before outright running from the bull. His feet pushed hard off the snow as his legs were connecting with the snow for the shortest of periods before pushing off the snowy terrain. However as hard as he pumped his legs the animal was still steadily gaining, he would have to do something. A voice? Darren risked looking back to see someone trapped in the cart that the bull was pulling. Cursing furiously he redoubled his efforts as he tried to figure out a way to help. Closing in on where on his original 'campsite' he ran past the treeline in hopes of slowing down the rampaging beast. It ran haphazardly though the light forest causing the cart behind it to bounce against the forest's terrain. Nearing the edge of the clearing that bordered the forest Darren carried out his plan as he started to zigzag through the last of the trees. His center of gravity low, Darren shifted his legs back and forth repeatedly to otherwise confuse the beast before he would finally act. As the two finally ran unto open ground Darren leaped at the bull the first chance he got. Nearly goring his hand apart his arm slung over the bull's horn as the beast dragged him through the snow. Hanging on desperately to the beast's extremities his hands eventually gripped the it's horn. Looking back at the passenger's condition he gave a slight look before pulling down on the bull's horn. His victim responded loudly with a loud bellow of indignation as it continued dragging the vantha's legs through the snow. His eyes flared up slightly as he exerted more force, leading to a fruitless conclusion. It wasn't enough to stop it from moving, not even the upcoming treeline deterred the bull's desire to move forward. Muttering another curse Darren gritted his teeth in a headstrong fashion as he continued trying to pull the bull away. It's not going to work, I'll have to adapt. Slight feelings of fatigue entered his system as his djed started to wane. "Not good" Nearing the end of the clearing the bull was only moments away from entering the treeline, sealing the fate of it's passenger. If it collided head on the force would be enough to launch Mortemor face first into a tree with enough momentum to be fatal. Yelling at the tops of his lungs Darren spiked his djed pathways into overtime as he managed to stagger the beast a step. The slight movement giving Darren a chance to follow up as his feet dug into the snow. Now with his with a steady platform he pulled the bull to the side even further. A sickening crack and snap was heard as the Vantha laboriously pulled with all his might. If he angled it right, the cart wouldn't only tip over and free it's victim but also send her a two to three feet from the bull. "Run! Run! Run!" Quickly abandoning the bull, Darren made his way to the passenger pulling her back to her feet before pulling the two into the safety of the thick thicket before them. oocSorry about the whole zigzag thing. Someone's peer review made me think about trying to fit acrobats into the thread.

[Mortemor Thane II]

Mortemor was tossed about the cabin as the bull raged on. From her vantage point there was really nothing she could see or do, but she definitely could feel the terrain beneath her, and fears of the wheels giving way and breaking began to arise. ‘I’m done for--!’ She frantically thought as she barely caught a glimpse of the quickly closing in tree line in the distance. ‘I’ll be thrown-!!’ Another panicked anxiety flashed through her head. The halfing clung tightly to whatever was heavy enough to withstand the shaking and rattling of the carriage. The other lighter objects including weapons, and smaller bed side and dining tables had shaken loose and had become airborne. Rattling about the inside like loose beans in a maraca. Mortemor closed her eyes, fearing that the debris would land on her and kill her before the tree line did. Suddenly there was a violent lurch, and Mortemor screamed in terror, expecting the momentum of the cart to send her flying. But instead was pleasantly surprised when the speed of the beast had slowed down, even if for a second. Her relief was drained out of her as quickly as it came, though; as there was an audible snap, loud enough to jolt Morte’s heart even further. ‘What was that?! Did the wheels give?!’ Mortemor made her way for the back of the cart, tugging at the canopy for support as she inched her way toward the back opening. She planned to make a jump for it while the speed of the hell ride had ebbed just a bit. But her escape was foiled when the bull was violently whipped to the side by some unseen force, which Mortemor still could not get a good look at from her angle. The horned assailant fell to the ground losing almost all of its strength after taking damage from the Vantha’s attack. But the cart’s momentum continued to carry it forward, and with its driver currently incapacitated; the cart tumbled forward as its wooden wheels, torn and splintered from the off road escapade, had been shattered . The cart along with its merchandise, and trapped passenger, flipped a full four rotations; First, ejecting Mortemor, sending her gliding over several feet of snow before landing in a large pile of the cold stuff, and then turning the furniture and other goods still inside the cargo, into dangerous projectiles; which were rapidly flung out in every direction. The wind escaped Morte’s lungs on impact, forcing a loud audible “Oof!!” from the young woman. Her hood landed over her head, barring her vision from the surrounding area, but she was relieved to feel the snow beneath her. She had made it out alive, and hopefully, in one piece! Just as she was about to pull her hood down to check if she had left any of her limbs on the cart, she was yanked up by powerful hands and forced onto her feet. “Run! Run! Run!” A young man appeared at her side shouting; his clothes were a mix of animal fur and skin, alternating from black to white. As the halfing was pulled onto her feet and had gone just two feet away, a large bone crushing dresser top landed with an ominous crash directly onto the snowy knoll Morte had just been laid out on. Mortemor eyed him curiously from beneath her hood as they escaped the barrage of home furnishings and useless knick-knacks. ‘Who is he? Did daddy hire him--? I don’t remember him leaving Zeltiva with us… Is he a bandit?!’ Mortemor was unsure what to think of the lad. But at the moment he seemed to be saving her life, and she was grateful. He led her into a thicket that was able to deflect or catch any stray items. When it was over, the cart laid in a pile of ruin on the edge of the forest, several feet away from the lifeless body of the cattle that had once been anchored to it. Mortemor shifted her hood out of her face slightly, allowing just her eyes to be visible. She looked over at the wreckage and then over at the young man standing beside her. “Thanks, mate…” She panted and managed to smirk despite her sore muscles. The battle raging in the distance was still pulsing, but the crowd of bandits had died down a bit, with most of its members now either trying to flee the scene due to injury, or still fighting for any valuables they could get their hands on. “My Father--!!” Mortemor cried, suddenly remembering her old man. “I’ve got to find him!” She glanced quickly in the mysterious young man’s direction and shouted. “Either stand there and continue to look pretty, or grab something and help us!!” Morte could be very bossy when she needed to be. .. The hooded traveler vaulted through the thicket and raced back down toward the scene. As she partially slid down a small slope along the way; she found a large sturdy branch hidden in the snow. It was long enough to swing and heavy enough to cause some damage with a well placed hit. She shot off toward the caravan, weaving her way through several different knife and fist fights in attempts to locate her father. She wouldn’t stop until she found him. “Die you bastard--!!” Mortemor Jr, heard her father howl. She tried to follow the sound of his voice over the other sounds of clashing swords, grunting, yelling, and swearing men. The red head found her senior fighting alone at the forefront of the caravan. Three men lay at his feet already, but three more were rushing in, and the old man looked winded. “You’re good with a sword, you old bastard… too bad youth, out lasts the old…” One of the bandits with a missing eye sneered at the old man, mocking him. He brandished a long deadly looking dagger that had a wicked warp in its hilt. He held it high as he readied his stance. ‘He’s gonna kill him!!’ Mortemor thought frantically, pushing all the strength in to her legs, and steeling her arms as she closed the distance. The bandit hadn’t noticed her yet, and the two other seemed to waiting for the first one to attack. TWHACK--!! Mortemor swung with all the strength in her arms and core, pulling the large branch across her body and making contact directly with the fiend’s head. “Gwah!” The fiend thief collapsed, a stream of blood flowing from his mouth and nose, to join the already spilled blood staining the snow they stood upon. “Sorry I’m late…” Mortemor Jr said jokingly as she joined her Father’s side, and stood ready to face the next wave.

[Darren]

Groaning slightly as he checked his shoulders for injuries. Yep that's tender... Wincing slightly as he prodded his forearm he tried deal with his dislocated arm as he forced it back in place. Another snap and click and his hand was in place... sort of. Making a flicking motion with his index finger he cried out in pain as he huddled over his arm. "No... problem... No problem at all. ...Don't call me mate, just please..." He twitched slightly as he tried to block out the pain in his arm, with little success. The area was still flaring up painfully, impulses of pain sheethed through him as he gripped his arm painfully. Let's not do that again. Looking back at the chaos behind him, he huffed slightly as he saw the bull wandered away mindlessly eating a patch of soft grass at the endge of the forest. A scrutinizing look followed by one of confusion as Mortemor spoke up he made a sarcastic option known. "You can always follow the tracks back you know ehehe... oww." His eyes narrowed as she called on his help once more, talk about ungrateful. "Hey now... it's hard to keep these looks you know. Beauty is not something practiced just flaunted and appreciated. ...Careful I can always just grab ...you. Eh." He twitched slightly as he finally realized she already left him. Sigh* "Why do i even bother?" Pushing himself up he balanced shakilybefore he was able to follow, his arm held closely to his body. Sliding down the slope unsteadily, he rested for a moment as he tried to pull himself up. Behinds him the sounds of bull peacefully grazing and ahead sounds of more violence littering the air. I'm in no hurry... Opting to limp casually into the scene he raised his free hand as he addressed the bandits from behind. "Hey guys... I'm here. Thanks for waiting." His eyes narrowed as he looked at the consequences of the bandit's actions so far. "Hah... wow. You guys really suck at this. Barely able to take down an older man and not too far from Avanthal. Jeez. If this geezer doesn't end you the Icewatch would track you down and end you just as fast." Putting his left arm down slightly, Darren brought up his right hand up into a challanging gesture. "Don't need to involve Icewatch for this riffraff though. One arm should be enough." Glaring at remaining raiders Darren gritted his teeth before he let out one last warning. "You should give up now"

[Mortemor Thane II]

Mortemor noted the mysterious young man from earlier catch up to her. At first she had expected him to be a part of the bandit’s group but it was evident now that he did not belong to either; the bandits, or the caravan. ‘He’s hurt…’ Morte frowned at herself with disappointment, how could she have not noticed? She knew he had pulled her from the carriage in time, but could he have been the one to have stopped the bull as well? She blinked in disbelief at him as she came to realize that this person was stronger than he looked. But his current condition concerned her as she noted that his arm had sustained a bad injury. She would have to apologize for her brashness and thank him properly later, if they survived this ordeal. But for now they needed all the help they could get. “I’m not that old am I?” Morte Sr. gave a flat expression to the two youngsters standing at his side. “Well… whatever your age, you’re never too young to die!” The eldest of the group spat impatiently and raised his sword, calling upon the last of the strength. The other two bandits rushed in, avoiding contact with the younger male of the group. But the vantha was not left unattended to, as other bandits; who had been watching the situation and waiting for an opportune time to jump in, rushed him. Mortemor and her father handled the first set. Her father utilized his sword like a rapier, striking with precise and quick movements. While his daughter wielded the branch like a make shift club; literally whacking her assailant’s weapon from his hands and pummeling him into submission with strong, deliberate and violent blows to his head.

OOChave fun~! take out as many bandits as you want (opportune time for Exp mining) ^.^

[Darren]

Tilting his head slightly, Darren shrugged at the older man's question."Sort of" Darren's eyes glazing after hearing the older man's battle cry, thoughts of irritation and annoyance plagued his system before the two groups clashed once more. The faster this is over the faster I can leave. Darren was barely able to take two paces towards the original two bandits before he heard the presence of another opportunistic pair rushing him. Glancing back he was able to see the wind up of the blade before the first of the new pair threw out a bloodcurdling overhead. Shifting his body to the side Darren was able to otherwise sidestep the attack before the man ran past him. Letting what came naturally he sent out a snap kick aimed at the man's arse, stumbling the man a few paces forward before falling on unto the snow. However Darren wouldn't be able to watch as he turned to address the second aggresor. Armed with a small mace the man threw out a wide strike at Darren's head that had to be ducked. Digging his heels, a puff of snow soon followed him as Darren stepped into the man's space. The two bodies collided before the bandit let out a small 'oof' as the air was knocked out of his system. That was enough reason for Darren to send out a flurry to drop the man. A quick jab aimed at his belly, it was followed by a hard right to the man's chest before Darren finished the combination with a hard uppercut aimed at the man's chin. Only after was Darren allowed to nurse his injury as he felt another wave of pain wash over his left arm. An exasperated cry escaping his lips Darren was brought to his knees as the tingling sensation in his arm coursed freely. Clutching his arm with his free hand Darren could only whimper slightly as he held his arm tight. It felt like a debilitating itch that couldn't be scratched, protected by the thin layers of skin and muscles. "Aww baby got hurt" Looking back to the remaining bandit that he recently kicked, a chilling sneer striked fear into the Vantha's eyes as he huddled in pain. No. No! I am not going to be beaten by this guy! The final bandit flicking his sword back into position, he made a small inept display of skill before advancing on Darren. "Back off" That was the only warning that the Vantha could mutter before there was a slight change in his demeanor. Djed flowed freely once again as he shakily got back up. His left arm hurt less as he concentrated further, willing his body into a fighting position. More spasms of pain coursed through him, nearly enough to have him cringe in pain. However Darren somehow held on, he had to. Flux would help him deal with the pain until the end. That was the undenieable truth the Vantha had to face and that's what he was dreading. How long exactly would this 'helpful' condition last? Swallowing hard, his body bled a new layer of sweat as Darren awaited the man's assault. oocFeel free to intervene or otherwise finish up with your two. Be sure to tell what's we are going to do next.

[Mortemor Thane II]

Mortemor had managed to thoroughly incapacitate her first opponent, caving his head in with several willful blows. Her eyes immediately darted over to her father to make sure he was okay. The old man seemed to be holding his own quite well; now that he knew his Jr. was safe and not far off. ‘Where’s the other one?’ Mortemor thought quickly. A beryl gaze scoured the small skirmishes that had mixed in here and there; searching for the familiar white and black winter wear the helpful stranger had been wearing. ‘There!!’ She caught sight of her rescuer, currently in the middle of kicking a bandit in the behind. Morte snickered slightly at the sight, but quickly sprinted off in his direction. ‘It’s my turn to return the favor!!’ The red head considered; enthusiastic to join in on the stranger’s battle. Before she could even reach them, the young man easily handled the two men with only one able arm. He seemed to be winning the fight, even in his current condition. But As Mortemor closed in she could see the injury on his arm was worse than it seemed. Only for a moment did the young man let his guard down; Mortemor could see the visible pain on his face as he sank to his knees and clutch at his arm. A pang of sympathy raced through her heart, ‘That’s my fault…’ Her mind flickered briefly with the events of the runaway bull, and how the raging beast had been mysteriously stopped. The young man was strong, but every man had weakness to some degree. The last rogue, who still remained conscious, rose to mock the injured man. Goading him to rise and face him, but Mortemor planned to get there before the two clashed. The halfing was only a few paces away before the stranger managed to settle himself on unstable legs. The bandit took this as an opening and immediately rushed in. His eyes trained on his target, completely disregarding an incoming Mortemor; who was brandishing a bloodied and dented branch like a mace. She raised it high over her head as she came flying in to intercept the bandit’s final rush. The branch came down with a whirling force; unleashing a sickening crack as it collided with his skull. The wooden weapon in Mortemor’s hand splintered with the hit. The young Thane woman panted heavily as the last thief fell to his knees; a thoroughly dazed look glazing over his eyes. With anger still claiming her mind’s cognitions, Morte’s right arm shot out and landed a finishing blow; of course being untrained in the ways of hand to hand combat. The blow recoiled and rattled the knuckles in her hand painfully. “AUGH!!” Mortemor howled, clutching her fist; and ruefully regretting her brashness. “OW! Ow! Ow! SHIT! That hurts!!” She cursed and danced in-place, attempting to soothe the ache in her hand. The thief lay unconscious at her feet. As if the deciding battle had just taken place; the chaos that had ensued on the caravan died away leaving nothing but broken goods, and blood lying in the snow. What was still good to be sold or used was piled on to the carts that were undamaged, but slightly lighter than they had been before. Mortemor Thane Sr.'s Group of men was usually consisted of hardened criminals or pirates, usually looking to make a dollar in a rare honest way. Most of them were old buddies of Morte Sr., so many of them knew to get right back to work after the raid. “You alright?” Mortemor sighed, after gaining control on her pain reflex. She approached the stranger with an apologetic look on her face. “I’m so sorry I dragged you into all this… but I am thankful for the rescue…” She smiled nervously hoping she didn’t come off too awkward. “I think we’ve got some medical supplies on one of the carts… hopefully it wasn’t stolen. Mortemor go fetch it for the lad, and see to his wound.” Mortemor Sr. trudged up, sheathing his sword with heaviness in his arms. The young red head pulled her hood up a bit more to shield out the cold as she jogged off toward the carts to search in the mess for medical items. “Thank you, lad!” Morte Sr. exclaimed. “We would have had a hell of a time getting the bull under control… I saw ye’ damn near flip the blasted thing right over haHAH!” The old salted rogue approached the stranger and patted him warmly on his good arm. “You’ve done me a service by lookin’ out for my youngin’... If there is anything you need, please let me know.” The older man sighed and looked around at his disheveled caravan. “Not the smoothest trip… but a night’s rest in a camp, and a day lost; we’ll still make it to Avanthal, yet. At least the storm has died off a bit. Where are you staying? Are you out here alone?” The older salt and pepper haired man asked the young injured male.

OOCMorte Sr. is planning to make camp, and Morte Jr. went to go look for medical stuff so she can play nurse ^.^ lol

[Darren]

The scene in front of him had a tendency to change so much that day. The last bandit stepped forward only to be walloped from behind by another stranger. Blood red eyes peered at the woman before him, heavy breathing willing him to continue fighting and the adrenaline in his system telling the vantha to keep fighting. However as he watched the sight of the target before him only to pause in confusion. Peering closer Darren finally recognized that it was the woman that he recently helped not too long ago. Curious, how did I not recognize her earlier? Letting out a long breathe before he came to attention, Darren took a quick look at the scene. Seeing that the bandits were either long gone or dispatched he finally relaxed as Mortemor approached him. "I'll be fine. I saved you and you saved me. We are even." His eyes narrowed as another foreigner came to his attention. "I'm grateful elder." The Vantha kept his demeanor despite the appreciative comment. "Are you sure that's what happened? I imagined I did something else, there is no way I could manage that." Allowing a flat smile to reach his lips Darren nodded at the adulation from the other man, it felt that he might have actually earned the praise for once. "That's your daughter?" The look Darren gave wasn't too friendly before he gave a small snort of laughter. "She's bloody deadly with a stick." Taking a quiet look at the half blood's handiwork Darren shook his head as he acknowledged Sr.'s analysis. "When you see the guards in the gates be sure to tell them about the bandits and your stolen cargo they should be able to otherwise retrieve it and deal with the bandits. I live inside the city of course. I'm never alone, Morwen is here with me." Putting on a straight face Darren held the act for a moment before giving his usual easy smile. "Yea, I'm here alone. Was just planning an invigorating wilderness expedition surveying the Reaches. But it's not so bad. New places, new people although I usually meet them under different circumstances." Looking back at the caravan and the results of the raider's attack set him on edge as he stretched his injured arm. The pain was familiar to him, it was inevitable that he would suffer from knowing such a practice but that didn't make dealing with it any easier. "I want to help. Whoever these people are, they not only put your people at risk but are also threatening the people of Avanthal. I won't stand for it. It's inevitable when animals put up a fight during our trips but once people start to threaten us... It won't end well for them." His eyes gazed out into white expanse before turning back to Mortemor Sr. "I'm sorry hehe. Let's set up camp and deal with the wounded before we do anything like that. Gotta take your health into account too." With an audacious look the Vantha stepped forward to help the foreigner's caravan.