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Durelin · 04-20-2003, 07:11 PM

Raken grinned at her but his eyes stayed the same, seeming to stare at something only he could see. In the dimness of inside the wooden shack they almost looked glazed over with a murky film, as in death. "Getting anxious? Can't wait for the kill? You're as bad as the man you just bested." He snorted, looked down at his feet, and shook his head, "You're as bad as them knuckleheads." He suddenly smiled again and looked up at her. "Missy, you'll just sit and wait till dawn. If you sleep, you sleep. If not, let's hope you don't find a amn that knows how to use a sword." Raken laughed, "That, lucky for you, you'll be hard pressed to find." He turned, now laughing harder as if he had told an excellent joke, and went back to his corner, where he slept on the moldy, craggy wooden floor.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

The sun was still hidden behind even the smallest hills, but its rays of life - giving light were visible along the horizon. But the rays did not penetrate the dark mounds of clouds in the sky above. A storm was coming. A storm of rain and lightening, and a storm of wild men. All on the poor little town just across the River Isen. Raken stood just outside of the wooden shack, the horse - hide door behind hanging behind him.

The storm comes, little ones! With no mercy, with wrath and ruin, and the tearing of flesh! "We come!" he yelled out loud, screaming at the sun and storm clouds. "The wild men of the hills!" Then he threw back his head and howled a long note like a wolf at the moon. He was answered with howls from within the shack. His men were risen, ready for battle. Raken stepped back from the entrance, examining his sword, covered in cracks and scratches, and his newly polished axe, and his dagger, dipped in poison only that morning. He smirked at the crazed men running out of the shack, whooping and growling like a pack of dogs. Then walked out Mara, gracefully, but the grace of a swordsman, not of a lady. She was always poised on the verge of attack. How else did anyone survive?

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

They had been travelling for a few hours and were almost to the southern end Misty Mountains. Raken turned back to examine the motly crew he led. All were shaggy and grimy, covered in probably a month's worth of filth. Most carried axes, usually meant for chopping wood. Some had halves of swords, a few even had whole ones, though in the worst condition. One or two had a bow and some arrows, maybe with some of Raken's poison on the tips, but for the most part, it was axes and clubs, though those were deadly enough in those men's hands. Plus, a few had stuck some bones in the wooden clubs to tear the skin. Raken was happy with his right hand man, Durvik, who had an axe and club, but also his special hook. It was a mixture of bone and metal attached to a short, thick stick. On the tip of the curve was another smaller and sharper hook. it was very effective in tearing skin and hide.

But, Raken was not at all happy with the rest. At times, they were useful, being crazed berserkers who felt little pain in battle until they died. Now, too many were looking at Mara, with a hungry sort of stare. He did not like it at all. They weren't quick enough for that girl, and they've never known any women like her, they'll never know till their dead. That sodbrain Fegnash will never have the guts to tell anyone she can actually hurt one of them. He snorted, chuckling under his breath. Hurt? Kill more like it. She had the knife to his mangy throat! Mara was at the front with him, but, as always, a few good paces away. "Well, girl, I hope your waiting pays off. We'll come to the river soon." He paused, smiling cheerfully at her, "Oh, yeah, hope you can swim. If not, I'm sure Fegnash would be happy to help you across." The look on Mara's face was murderous. She automatically reached for her knife, but calmed herself before she did anything drastic. "I can swim. I'm surprised any of you and your group of hairy sons of dogs can do anything but spit, gamble, growl, and beat something bloody." Raken howled with laughter, gripping his stomach. "Well now, you're right. A good description of this lot, but, you only have to add swimming on to their list of abiltities. That's it, I promise. On, and don't worry about me, used to be a sailor, missy."

"A sailor?" Mara said, laughing in disbelief, "Then that must mean you aren't really a Dunlending."

"Well, I am," Raken told her, "Half. My father took my mother away from here and way to the east and south, all the way to the Harad. Yep, my father was a corsair down there, if you know what that is. And he raised me as one, but then I got sick him. And he had money he wasn't letting me and my mother have, so I killed him. I guess he taught me too well, or I learned too quick for him." Raken laughed, "My mother brought me back here and I lived here the rest of my life." He pulled out a pouch from around his neck, hidden under his shirt. From it, he took out a tiny sheep - skin container for liquid. "I still have some of the blood. Man, he spilled out a lot of it, he did."

"Family matters" Mara said to him, her eyes burning with anger, disgust, and most of all loathing. "I ought to teach you a lesson about that, but you'd set your filthy henchmen on me soon as breathe. I am so glad that you aren't a proper Dunlending. The less I have in common with you, the better."

Raken howled with laughter as she spat at him. "I wonder what you know of family," he said as if to himself, still laughing.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

They crossed the river by the time the sun was high in the sky. The men sweated from the heat, running at a moderate pace. The smells got worse because of the perspiration, but Raken was used to it and Mara had smelt worse. Of course the men was used to it. The storm was almost to the town. Both storms were. It seemed too perfect, they could arrive just as the rain did. But what did that matter? There were Rohan to be killed. Raken had his fire starters, the village would burn and no rain would stop the flames. They reached the village about an hour later, standing on a small rise looking over it. They gather atop it, and a low growl rose among them. At first it was just a hum, then a snarl, then the growling of a dog, and finally, it rose to the howl of a wolf. The villagers were screaming, running out of houses. Most knew what this meant. The Dunlendings howled and laughed, until one called above the rest, "Blood! Ruin! Wrath! Tear the flesh! Revenge!" Then the men charged, screaming all the way, "Revenge!" Their clubs, spikes, axes, swords were raised and they whirled them through the air carelessly. So the storm hit. So the thunder rolled. The rain came down, red with blood. The storm came and lay ruin.

[ April 22, 2003: Message edited by: Durelin ]

04-20-2003, 07:11 PM	#84
Durelin Estelo dagnir, Melo ring Join Date: Oct 2002 Posts: 3,063	Raken grinned at her but his eyes stayed the same, seeming to stare at something only he could see. In the dimness of inside the wooden shack they almost looked glazed over with a murky film, as in death. "Getting anxious? Can't wait for the kill? You're as bad as the man you just bested." He snorted, looked down at his feet, and shook his head, "You're as bad as them knuckleheads." He suddenly smiled again and looked up at her. "Missy, you'll just sit and wait till dawn. If you sleep, you sleep. If not, let's hope you don't find a amn that knows how to use a sword." Raken laughed, "That, lucky for you, you'll be hard pressed to find." He turned, now laughing harder as if he had told an excellent joke, and went back to his corner, where he slept on the moldy, craggy wooden floor. ~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~ The sun was still hidden behind even the smallest hills, but its rays of life - giving light were visible along the horizon. But the rays did not penetrate the dark mounds of clouds in the sky above. A storm was coming. A storm of rain and lightening, and a storm of wild men. All on the poor little town just across the River Isen. Raken stood just outside of the wooden shack, the horse - hide door behind hanging behind him. The storm comes, little ones! With no mercy, with wrath and ruin, and the tearing of flesh! "We come!" he yelled out loud, screaming at the sun and storm clouds. "The wild men of the hills!" Then he threw back his head and howled a long note like a wolf at the moon. He was answered with howls from within the shack. His men were risen, ready for battle. Raken stepped back from the entrance, examining his sword, covered in cracks and scratches, and his newly polished axe, and his dagger, dipped in poison only that morning. He smirked at the crazed men running out of the shack, whooping and growling like a pack of dogs. Then walked out Mara, gracefully, but the grace of a swordsman, not of a lady. She was always poised on the verge of attack. How else did anyone survive? ~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~ They had been travelling for a few hours and were almost to the southern end Misty Mountains. Raken turned back to examine the motly crew he led. All were shaggy and grimy, covered in probably a month's worth of filth. Most carried axes, usually meant for chopping wood. Some had halves of swords, a few even had whole ones, though in the worst condition. One or two had a bow and some arrows, maybe with some of Raken's poison on the tips, but for the most part, it was axes and clubs, though those were deadly enough in those men's hands. Plus, a few had stuck some bones in the wooden clubs to tear the skin. Raken was happy with his right hand man, Durvik, who had an axe and club, but also his special hook. It was a mixture of bone and metal attached to a short, thick stick. On the tip of the curve was another smaller and sharper hook. it was very effective in tearing skin and hide. But, Raken was not at all happy with the rest. At times, they were useful, being crazed berserkers who felt little pain in battle until they died. Now, too many were looking at Mara, with a hungry sort of stare. He did not like it at all. They weren't quick enough for that girl, and they've never known any women like her, they'll never know till their dead. That sodbrain Fegnash will never have the guts to tell anyone she can actually hurt one of them. He snorted, chuckling under his breath. Hurt? Kill more like it. She had the knife to his mangy throat! Mara was at the front with him, but, as always, a few good paces away. "Well, girl, I hope your waiting pays off. We'll come to the river soon." He paused, smiling cheerfully at her, "Oh, yeah, hope you can swim. If not, I'm sure Fegnash would be happy to help you across." The look on Mara's face was murderous. She automatically reached for her knife, but calmed herself before she did anything drastic. "I can swim. I'm surprised any of you and your group of hairy sons of dogs can do anything but spit, gamble, growl, and beat something bloody." Raken howled with laughter, gripping his stomach. "Well now, you're right. A good description of this lot, but, you only have to add swimming on to their list of abiltities. That's it, I promise. On, and don't worry about me, used to be a sailor, missy." "A sailor?" Mara said, laughing in disbelief, "Then that must mean you aren't really a Dunlending." "Well, I am," Raken told her, "Half. My father took my mother away from here and way to the east and south, all the way to the Harad. Yep, my father was a corsair down there, if you know what that is. And he raised me as one, but then I got sick him. And he had money he wasn't letting me and my mother have, so I killed him. I guess he taught me too well, or I learned too quick for him." Raken laughed, "My mother brought me back here and I lived here the rest of my life." He pulled out a pouch from around his neck, hidden under his shirt. From it, he took out a tiny sheep - skin container for liquid. "I still have some of the blood. Man, he spilled out a lot of it, he did." "Family matters" Mara said to him, her eyes burning with anger, disgust, and most of all loathing. "I ought to teach you a lesson about that, but you'd set your filthy henchmen on me soon as breathe. I am so glad that you aren't a proper Dunlending. The less I have in common with you, the better." Raken howled with laughter as she spat at him. "I wonder what you know of family," he said as if to himself, still laughing. ~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~ They crossed the river by the time the sun was high in the sky. The men sweated from the heat, running at a moderate pace. The smells got worse because of the perspiration, but Raken was used to it and Mara had smelt worse. Of course the men was used to it. The storm was almost to the town. Both storms were. It seemed too perfect, they could arrive just as the rain did. But what did that matter? There were Rohan to be killed. Raken had his fire starters, the village would burn and no rain would stop the flames. They reached the village about an hour later, standing on a small rise looking over it. They gather atop it, and a low growl rose among them. At first it was just a hum, then a snarl, then the growling of a dog, and finally, it rose to the howl of a wolf. The villagers were screaming, running out of houses. Most knew what this meant. The Dunlendings howled and laughed, until one called above the rest, "Blood! Ruin! Wrath! Tear the flesh! Revenge!" Then the men charged, screaming all the way, "Revenge!" Their clubs, spikes, axes, swords were raised and they whirled them through the air carelessly. So the storm hit. So the thunder rolled. The rain came down, red with blood. The storm came and lay ruin. [ April 22, 2003: Message edited by: Durelin ]