[Cimmerian]

It was almost noon, when Himelilek's tracking skills led the two hunters to their quarry. Three men, well armed but in ragged clothes and armour that were poorly mismatched, as if they were pried off the dead, or stolen off the blacksmith's waste-rack, sat around a small fire, feasting on some smelly fish.
Ozracles tensed as his eyes fell upon six horses tethered close to a brook. His tall black was among them. Turning to Himelilek, the barbarian growled in a low voice. "They're mine!"

"Suit yourself," replied the elf dryly.

With a wild ululating cry the barbarian rushed out and fell upon the startled trio. By the time the men realised what was going on, the horse thief closest to where the barbarian had charged from, was screaming like a woman, as half his spine stuck out from the deep gash rendered upon his lower back. The other two men leapt to their feet, the closest of whom went down again as Ozracles' savage thrust tore through his paltry armour, muscled torso and bone as one. He died before he hit the ground.

The third horse thief, almost as tall as the blood-mad barbarian, and nearly as heavy, was the one who had stolen his black from under him. Ozracles smiled, a smile that did not extend to his cold, dark eyes. The other man squared off against him, waving two short swords, one in each hand, in silvered arcs in the air.

"Killing them was easy, barbar," he sneered, "Now see how you fare against a real man. Or will you cut yourself again."

His rasping laugh soon turned to alarmed gasps as Ozracles lunged at him, broadsword swinging with wild abandon. The two large men were almost evenly matched, but it was always Ozracles who was attacking and the horse thief defending. The loud clash of metal against metal, borne by sinews of steel hard muscle, reverberated through the dense forest.

"Fool barbar," gasped the horse thief, as Ozralces slipped on spilt blood, but only down to one knee. Muttering a curse, the barbarian deftly parried a downard stroke and drove his free hand in a fist at the other man's midriff.
Out of breath and alarmed by the force of the blow, the large man staggered backward, dropping both his swords. In one swift motion, Ozracles rose to his feet and swung his mighty swordarm. Blood fountianed into the air out of the cavity where the thief's head once was as the large body, arms flailing toppled backwards. Ozracles kicked at the severed head, lifting it into the air and sent it swerving to where Himelilek sat watching.

The elf grinned as she grabbed at the blood stained head, its eyes rolling wildly, and walked up to the barbarian, who proceeded to free his horse.

"Impressive!" she said, tossing the severed head aside. "Let us take the rest of the horses too."

Ozracles grunted, wiping his sword clean against the headless corpse of the leader of the horse thieves. He nodded at Himelilek and mounted his black. "Aye, they may fetch us a good price."

"Now let us get back to Thorondruin. I do not wish him to make off with the jewels all by himself." Himelilek said and kicked her horse into flight. Ozracles followed, leading the five other horses behind his own.


As they neared the spot of rendezous, Thorondruin and the others were nowhere to be found.

"They cannot be far," growled Ozracles.

"I hear them, they are upwind a few miles. Come!"

As they rode on, Himelilek laughed. "That trusting fool, he has left the girl all by herself. She is on her way back. Right back to us."

Ozracles eyes lit up. Livia without the so-called protection of Thorondruin.
They decided to wait for her. And sure enough, she came frantically running through the undergrowth, almost colliding into the horses.

"Save me, kind sirs!" the panting girl pleaded, "I have been taken by force by..." She choked when she lifted her eyes at the leering grins of Ozracles and Himelilek. Her heart sank, she was too tired to cry.

"Well, well!" laughed Himelilek.

"You have some sleep potions, elf!" growled Ozracles. "Put her to sleep and I will have her bound and hidden, far away from Thorondruin."

"The potion will not be necessary." Himelilek laughed, lashing her foot out, her heavy boot landing hard on the base of the girl's skull. She went down in a heap. Ozracles glared at the laughing elf.

"I want her without scars." He roared.

"There'll be none. Does the big, bad barbarian have a soft spot for little Livia?" sneered the elf.

Ozracles cursed loudly and lifted up the limp form, stuffing her in a sack and binding it tightly, he casually tossed it over one of the stolen horses. And they made their way onward, until they came upon a farm.

"There," said Himelilek boredly, "are the rest of our fine party."