[Flashback]My camp![Rhuryc]

by **Markus Andres** on April 30th, 2011, 3:49 pm

Markus looked down at his bloodied hand and then at the man who was lying whimpering on the ground. Holding his wounded leg. With his anger slowly leaving his system, along with the adrenalin. Markus felt pity for the man and felt horrible for what he had done to him. Much like Markus always felt horrible when he let his anger get the best of him.

"Give me a second. I have to get something first." Markus crouched and wrapped his arms around the dying prisoner and dragged/lifted him to the fire. He really wished he knew more about first aid so he might tend to his wounds. The bandit, although dirty, didn't look much older than Markus. Just a young misguided soul. Markus took a deep breath as he left the man by the fire and got his composite bow and quiver with arrows - made a check of his place to see if he left any weapons for the unconscious prisoner, he found nothing. He wasn't sure if he could shoot properly with the sting in his left shoulder. But it was better to carry the extra weight than miss having it when he got there. He picked up his sword and shield along the way. Sheathing the former and slung the other over his back. Before he jogged/ran up to the old man who had just gone ahead.

"Hey, are you wounded?" Rhetorical question, Markus had seen the man get hit with an arrow. "Don't you think you should get it tended to or something?" Markus said when he got up next to the old man.

by **Rhuryc** on May 1st, 2011, 8:16 pm

"You would need to pull the arrow head free." Rhuryc grunted as he made his way through the wilderness. They could take care of his injury once they were safe and had the time to deal with the issue properly. A wound tended too incorrectly would be just as dangerous. "I'll be fine for a while. Once we take care of our problem." He was sweating. Having something inside him was not the most fortunate of endeavors, but thankfully the arrow had not pierced anything vital. Or so he thought. Whatever, his arm could still move. And so it did. Although his shield hung somewhat limp at his side, he continued on despite the pressure, boots shifting through the broken flora of the forest floor with a quaint rustle. If anything, the man was thick. Both in body and mind. Persistent, even, or just too tenacious to give way.

Their trek through the wilderness was no hassle. The bandits were no great woodsmen on their own. They left an obvious path that trailed their every step; broken branches, cleared bushes, even fresh prints in the soft ground. An idiot could trace them. And thankfully, the light was fading. By the time the two of them reached the camp the sun was almost entirely absent, allowing their approach a low, stealthy profile. Rhuryc's pace slowed. He did what he could to avoid stepping on the crinkly bits of lose twigs and dry sticks, shifting away from the leaves as his footfalls become slow and irregular. The smoke in the distance reeked of human involvement. A camp fire. He could smell cooked meat and heard the jovial laughter of the inhabitants as they exchange foppish tales and lies of their exploits.

Saddling up against the backside of a larger tree, Rhuryc hunkered down. He ignored the pain in his arm and motioned Markus over. His head poked out to observe camp. How many? The light made it difficult for him to count, but four, five? Enough. Surprise would have to be their biggest ally. Perhaps they could use the darkness to their advantage. "If you're any good with that bow." He said, sliding back around to the full obscuration of his cover. He held his blade up, poising himself as if he was setting up an ambush. "We'll go on you. Draw them out into the wood, we'll be able to take them as they come, thin their numbers before they can surround us."

by **Markus Andres** on May 4th, 2011, 4:57 pm

Markus shuddered a little when the old man told him he would have to pull the arrow head free. Markus really didn't like the idea of going into combat with someone who had an arrow stuck in their shoulder. It was just bloody insane. But something in the man's tone of voice told Markus it would be useless to try and stop the man, short of knocking him out. Which would just be plain stupid.

"Alright." Markus simply replied and walked next to the old man. Seeing the easy tracks. Markus got a bit worried. Those tracks seemed way too easy to follow. Even someone inexperienced like Markus could follow them. Were they walking into an ambush? Markus kept casting glances over his shoulder, looking for anyone or anything trailing them.

Markus slowed down with the old man and approached the camp stealthily, making sure he stepped where the old man had stepped. Those seemed to be the most silent spots. He peeked over the edge, counting at least four people. With the old man injured like he was, it would be a problem.

"I can try. Stay hidden, when I change to sword and shield, that's your cue to show yourself."

Markus peeked out from the side of the tree again. Looking for the person most deserving of another hole in his body. Markus quickly moved from the cover of the tree to another one, a little further back. To get another glance at the camp site. Two were facing away from him. The other two facing in his direction. Then a fifth moved into view, walking away from the campfire and stopped by a tree. Seemed like he was out taking a leak.

Markus placed his shield up against the tree. Took an arrow out of the quiver. Put it on the string and pulled it back to the anchoring point on his cheek. Aiming his arrow at one of the fellows on his side of the fire. Getting them in the back could confuse the others as to what had happened. Perhaps giving him time for another shot before they scrambled for cover. Markus determined the distance to be roughly 35-40 yards. He aimed for the spine of the man. Hoping to kill him quickly and painlessly.

Less could be said about Markus' left shoulder. It sent a jolt of pain through his shoulder as he let the arrow fly. It flew right past the target's head and embedded itself into the stomach of one of the figures on the other side of the fire. Markus didn't have the time to feel bad for him. He had 4 friends who suddenly sprung into action and Markus had limited time to reduce that number to 3. The arrow was on the string, pulling the arrow and string back. Taking a rough aim and let the arrow go. It flew into the midst of the people without hitting any of them. This second arrow helped them narrow down where Markus was firing from and they quickly got to the cover of the trees and were advancing on their position, going from cover to cover. They seemed more organized than Markus had expected. He had also semi-expected them to run away. They were bandits after all. Markus let a third arrow fly soon after. This time hearing a man scream short after. It seemed he had hit him in the thigh.

"Three left" Markus whispered to the old man as he let go of the bow and took up the shield and began to draw his sword. The men were so close that Markus could be caught without his shield if he didn't change. That also meant that it was time the old man stepped into the battle. Hopefully catching the advancing bandits by surprise and in turn allowing Markus to get them while their attention turned to the old man.

by **Rhuryc** on May 5th, 2011, 10:06 am

When Markus returned Rhuryc was gone. Not entirely. He just moved. Closer. When the ruckus started and the bandits broke their revelry Rhuryc took the advantage gained by his wily friend and shifted out from behind his tree, body low as he trounced through the flora and assumed a new spot closer to the fire. Fortunately, they all charged. With their own noise hiding his suitably lacking experience in remaining hidden, the man was able to get behind the egressing group, his body kept out of sight while they chased their mysterious bowman. The second arrow scattered past his head and beyond his vision. Grumbling, Rhuryc kept himself down, patient, out of sight. When they shifted their focus he swept about with their movements, sword and shield held aloft and ready. As much as could be expected. Whenever he moved his left arm jolts of pain seared up his shoulder, wracking at the back of his mind. Ignore it. Right.

He made no sound as he charged. From behind, the first man never had a chance. Rhuryc slid in at the man's back and thrust his sword down at his spine, the blade piercing skin and grating off of bone that rendered his target dead in an instant. He hit the ground with a sickening thud. Only two remaining, they both turned at the advent of their new aggressor. Rhuryc gave them little opportunity for assessment. A step brought him forward, his shield tossed out in a swing about his body in a wild, imprecise flail that sent the metal slab into an awaiting blade. His own weapon followed. Scything through the air, the sword left a ringing trail in its wake. Steel clashed against steel. Both bandits made a flurry of defending themselves, dancing about the hailstorm of attacks with a wild adaptation that served to stay their execution. No matter the pain, Rhuryc kept on.

A thrust sent his body reeling forward. He lifted a leg and charged the man at his side, one torso colliding into the other with little respect for distance. His first opponent disoriented, Rhuryc turned his attention to the remaining prospect. They met in a wild display. The shield came about again. Ducking, the bandit avoided its collision only to find the steel that followed. Blade ripped flesh. A flash of red colored the young man's face and he whipped around, squaring up with last, stumbling, victim. There was an attack somewhere in there. The bandit flashed. He flailed like a wounded, desperate animal, a man fighting for the very air that he breathed. His sword bounced off of Rhuryc's shield. Another step brought the man closer and the blade of Naravane took one more lift. Rhuryc grunted and held the dying bandit for a moment longer than he intended, watching as the lights vanished from those deep, begging eyes. He turned. Beyond them, just off the edge of the camp, there was business yet to be taken care of.

Strangely, the encounter had taken less than a chime or so. How strange it was that timed seemed to slow during those intense moments. "He's yours to deal with." Rhuryc said, his arm slumping at his side as he turned to eye his companion.

by **Markus Andres** on May 6th, 2011, 4:16 pm

Markus saw the injured man sneak up behind the trio who were advancing on Markus. What he saw next was rather gruesome as the man continued to obliterate the next of the men. Markus drew his sword and rushed in to help the man, but before Markus covered the ground, the man had finished the job. Mercilessly killing every single one of them. It was perhaps a bit too much for Markus to just watch them get slaughtered like animals by one insanely talented man. Markus turned to look at the last man that the Old Man told him to deal with. He stood with an axe in his left hand and most of his weight on his left leg, the right leg, had an arrow protruding from it. Markus looked at the axe, a bit surprised he was using the off hand rather than his right.

"Give up and I will let you live..." Markus said. The man just spat at the ground. Markus could see rage in his eyes. "Don't waste your life." The man looked past Markus at one of the bodies and then swallowed hard and took a step forward and swung his axe at Markus from his right. Markus stepped in and blocked it with his sword, having his shield as a back up. Easily stopping the weak swing, as the man couldn't produce enough force without it hurting in his leg. Markus' left leg kicked out at the man's injured leg. He really didn't want to kill the man. Much rather have him return as a prisoner.

But the man just yelped in pain when Markus hit his injured limb and halted closer again. Swinging his axe again and again at Markus. Who with his skillfully defense either dodged or blocked most of the weak strikes with his sword or shield, Markus kept trying to calm the man down and have him surrender. After half a chime of trying to avoid killing the man, Markus made an arrow in his defense. The man's axe slipping by his defense and nicking his right biceps with the blunt side of the axe. Sending a jolt of pain down Markus' arm. Almost made him drop his sword. Only years of discipline saved him from the return swing. As Markus leaped back.

Markus was done giving the man chances. He just stepped in, blocked the defensive swing with his sword. Took a step forward with his left, and slammed his shield into the face of the poor thug. Pulled his sword up, got it hooked on the axe by mistake and pulled it from the thug's grip and it flew behind Markus, before Markus viciously chopped down with his blade. Hitting between the neck and collar bone. Cutting a good duo of inches into the man. Markus saw the flicker of disbelief and shock go through the man's face and eyes as life fled from his body. Markus looked away and stepped away from the dead man and clenched his sword tightly. Looking at the blood on the blade and almost threw the sword to the ground.

"Petch..." He muttered taking a deep inhale of air. The smell of murder fresh. He closed his eyes and tried to block out the memory of the man he had just murdered. Wiping the blade on his own leather armor before he sheathed it.

I have been trained better than this... He was a thief... Just a bandit. A murderer... - Yet he felt a tear roll down his cheek. Before a harsher look returned to his face. As the world reminded him of his aching right biceps and his wounded left shoulder. He pushed down the sorrow and guilt he felt and instead looked to the old man and offered him a hand/shoulder should his injuries trouble him too greatly.

"Hey, well fought." - Showing no hint of the anger he felt that the man had basically left Markus to fend for himself to do his little ambush. "If you can, could you see if they got any supplies or first aid kit, we need to get your wounds tended. We are going to stay here tonight. Too dangerous to go anywhere now." - Markus said in his authoritative tone of voice, not mentioning the fact that he would be leaving early next morning, when the sun returned. So he could go find the man he had left. Hoping that he didn't have that man's death weighing on his conscious as well. Not sure what he could do should the man still live. But he had to go in the morning.

by **Rhuryc** on May 7th, 2011, 1:47 am

Rhuryc watched the exchange with little interest. It was apparent that Markus had the upper hand. A Knight trained warrior against a wounded, unskilled opponent? There was hardly a contest. Nevertheless he kept his sword aloft, albeit his shield slumped at his side. That wound was finally taking its tole. The engagement passed with a flurry of desperate flailing. The bandit, taken by a lust for blood, pressed against the much younger man, his fervor doing him so well that he manged to score a hit. A superficial assault, to say the least, but Rhuryc did not need to watch to know the result. When the death blow fell he did not watch the sword, but rather its wielder. Killing with a bow was different. You did not stare the man down, nor did you get a look at his eyes when they glazed. There was a hesitance there. A lack of experience. Bah. Better to just ignore it, let the boy deal with the event in his own manner.

He sheathed his blade and turned from Markus. Already well at work, he shifted through the materials left to them. Some common necessities and, thankfully, food. Apparently the men were eating. Hah. Rhuryc suppressed a chuckle and continued. Blankets, discarded weapons, packs. He lowered himself over a few of the items and shrugged off the help when it was offered, rifling through the various bits and pieces for any sign of aid. Bandages. Good. Water? They would need that. Hopefully it was clean. And, there, even better. Rhuryc reached down and snagged a flask. He unscrewed the top and sniffed the odorous liquid beneath, his nose twitching and burning at the pungent aroma. Alcohol. Now all they needed was something to remove the damn head.

"I'm not your follower." Rhuryc grumbled as he set himself down on one of the rolls by the still roaring fire. He ignored the corpses just outside of the camp. "Stop ordering me around." Reaching over, he snagged one of the packs and set it on his lap, the same in which he had found the bandages. He glanced down inside and put a hand down the opening, shifting and navigating through the various stuff. There. He pulled out set of forceps. One of them must have had some kind of medical practice. That or he really liked holding things. Now all that remained was to fix him up. Ugh. "Your first kill?" He paused only long enough to glance up at Markus. "Think of it as justice. It makes the life taking easier to swallow."

Rhuryc held the forceps out to the younger man. "Now, you'll want to twist the arrowhead until it's facing the same way it went in, otherwise it will do more damage. So. Unless you intend on killing me." With his free hand Rhuryc removed the flask again and took a long, greedy drink. He hated arrows. So much.

by **Markus Andres** on May 7th, 2011, 11:08 pm

The man apparently was angry with Markus' bossy attitude. Then he talked of justice. It being justice. Markus took the forceps and clenched it tightly in his hand. Listening to the old man continue, talking about how to fix the

"Justice! How can this be justice? These men had done nothing to us, yet we killed them where they stood. How could we know these were the right people? What if we just attacked an innocent group of travelers?"

Markus said with anger in his voice. Hiding his grief behind a wall of anger. He glared at the old man. Feeling a desire to punch him in the face. Even though that would be hypocritical. He had been just as eager to deal with these 'bandits'. But that was before he had seen the lights flicker out of a mans eyes. Markus reached back and found where the dagger he had taken from the man was sheathed. He took the whole thing out, dagger and sheath. Pulled the dagger and threw it into the ground. Noticing it actually burrowed into the ground. He handed the sheath to him. It was made of leather, might be dirty, but the man had just gulped down something a lot dirtier.

"Bite down on this." He said waiting for the older man to take it, as not to ruin his teeth when he bit down from the pain. Markus got to work on the arrow. First trying if he could see what direction it would make sense to twist the arrow. Markus got to work on the arrow. Twisting it inside the wound. Forcing himself not to take any deep breaths. Putting the forceps to good use when he felt he had the arrow twisted correctly. Markus pulled the arrow out, the devilish thing created so that pulling it out would create a larger wound. If not done correctly, Markus, was darned close to doing it correctly. But the arrow still resisted and cut a greater wound on the way out. Markus threw the forceps and arrow away.

Markus would understand if the old man decided to punch him in the face then.

"Now what?" - Markus didn't know much about what to do with arrow wounds. He would also require such tending himself, for even though his own arrow wound was superficial, he didn't like walking around with a hole in his shoulder.

by **Rhuryc** on May 8th, 2011, 8:13 am

Rhuryc stared at Markus. He understood the anger. Whether or not he appreciated it he would not say. Instead, he allowed for the younger man to vent his frustrations. Too many questions. Even if he bothered to answer nothing he said would give any sort of comfort. He could lie, of course, say everything was going to work out just fine and the gods would approve. Somehow that cheapened the whole of it. No, Rhuryc merely set to his own antics. Carefully, he slipped his coat off and discarded the thick leather for the time being. The hole in the shoulder would have to be mended. Blast it. Once the sheath was offered he dusted it off and tossed it into his mouth, his teeth sinking in without much to do. He knew how much this would hurt. Hell, the last time he had a wound of a similar fashion he had to remove the blasted head himself. At least now he had someone to punch if he screwed up.

Rhuryc shifted. He grunted. His knuckles whitened as his fingers pressed themselves into his palm, hands balling into fists that he pounded onto the side of his leg. His shoulder burned. Each twinge of pressure made his insides scream with pain. And yet he did not move. He kept his shoulder steady, secure, not daring to move it an inch in distraction. A hard man, a tough one, no matter how rugged Rhuryc was there was no denying how much pain he felt. Finally, when Markus pulled, the man lurched forward. The sheath dropped from his mouth and his entire body shuddered at the splitting flesh, his voice rising in a call of pain that echoed across the darkened canopy. All at once there was a relief of pressure and a constant, sharp digging in his shoulder. Blood flowed down in the now open wound. Reeling back, a hand came up to grasp at the red liquid that streamed his down his arm. Pain flashed in his eyes. Intermixed with rage and stress, Rhuryc threatened to set upon the source of his agony, but he kept himself at bay. Instead, he pressed harder on the wound and reached for the bandages he found earlier.

With an easy grasp he poured the alcohol on his shoulder. More burning. That was the best he could do for now. Next, he released his hold and with hold hand wrapped the bandages about the wound, weaving the stand under his arm and around once, twice, and again until it was tight enough to press against the bare flesh. Only after he was done did he dare to breath. The pain lingered, it bitch and complained, but there was a thick sense of despair that had sense dissipated from the warrior. Markus spoke, sure, but the words echoed hollow in his mind. After what seemed like bells, Rhuryc finally shifted his attention to the other man. What next? Like he knew.

"Can you tend yourself?" His voice was hoarse. Only now did Rhuryc notice he had been sweating. And his jaw ached. How hard had he bitten down? With a glance he noticed the sheath was marked by his teeth. "I didn't see where you were wounded." He grunted and motioned to what remained of the bandages and the flask he was still holding. Oh. He offered it to Markus. "Helps clear infection. Not perfect, but it's what we have."

by **Markus Andres** on May 9th, 2011, 10:21 pm

Markus was at once impressed and humbled by the man's ability to tolerate pain. He was a tough man and Markus would have been hard pressed if it had come to combat with him. Perhaps he had been lucky that those bandits had decided to attack them then and not waited for them to wear each other out.

"Yea sure. I will handle it myself, you should get something to eat and some rest. Don't worry, I'll take the first watch. Name's Markus Andres by the way." - He still gave orders, but these orders made sense and was also disguised as a request. Markus removed his leather armor and cloth under. Showing his mighty impressive physique to the old man. Took a look a the wound. It was just superficial wound. But he should get it tended still. No need to get an infection or something. He poured some of the liquid over the wound and clenched his teeth together tightly.

"Phew, strong stuff." Markus said before starting to wrap the bandage around the wound. Much like how the old man had done just before. He figured the old man new something about first aid or tending wounds, since he seemed quite good at tending wounds. He tested the bandage and it seemed to keep it tight enough. Markus then began to take on his clothes again and at last his borrowed leather armor. He ventured into the forest, passed the dead bodies and picked up his bow and quiver. No need to give a possible enemy a bow.

by **Rhuryc** on May 10th, 2011, 2:34 am

Rhuryc grunted in response. He was too tired to argue. Or complain. He just had an arrow in him. Next archer he saw was going to get punched. Hard. In an effort to keep his mind occupied the man shifted his attention to more important matters. Like his stomach. In the bandit's rush to defend themselves they had abandoned their supper. It was a stew of some kind. Rhuryc shrugged. Grabbing one of the bowls he placed the clayware in his wounded hand and held it steady, dolling out a plentiful helping for himself. There was plenty, why, with almost seven men to feed and all. Ignoring that he was eating over the bodies of several corpses was easy. The smell had yet to set in. They should probably do something about that before they went to sleep, but for now? With a shrug he dug in, fetching a spoon that had also been forgotten in the rush. Not bad. Could use some spice, but it was better than anything he could make.

At least Markus was taken care of. The boy's wound was nothing to worry over, just a cut. Lucky git. With a rumble, Rhuryc watched him tend to the matter, stomaching and dealing with the alcohol in very much the same fashion he had. Really, one never got used to that. Maybe one of these days he would learn how to properly treat wounds. At least he could help to treat the other wounds. The less physical ones. After a few, choice bites, Rhuryc slowed his gorging and opened his mouth for something other than his makeshift meal.

"It's never justice." He spoke suddenly, his tone serious. "Killing. No matter what they've done or if it was you or them. It never feels right." Rhuryc's left arm hung limp as he continued, the bowl almost entirely forgotten. "Because you never forget the eyes. Or the looks. They stay with you. Something natural doesn't haunt your dreams." His gaze flickered away for a moment. "That's why it helps. To tell yourself that you did others a favor, that they won't have to suffer because you kill a man."

Silence followed. Ah, stew. Rhuryc raised the bowl and continued to eat.