Truth in a Dark Place RPG

[The X Phial]

Bregand's mind was in an uproar. Turthol was a traitor, which made no sense to the boy. It was Turthol who had spent so much time with Rangar, who had risked everything so many times..only to betray them here at the end. It didn't add up. There had been ample opportunities to betray the group, times when Turthol was on watch, when the group was at his mercy and the hunter was close by. Why wait until he had risked his life so many times, given his own money to avert attack in Rohan and been injured nearly to his own demise? Something wasn't right...at all.

He grabbed his father's sword and stood to defend himself. Two Haradrim rushed him at once, and he managed to sidestep both attacks, taking a small wound to the left arm. He spun and managed to trip one of his assailants...his fighting skills had vastly improved over the last few months. He brought the sword hilt down on the Haradrim's head, rendering him unconcious and grabbed the swarthy man's shield just in time to bring it up and avoid a fatal injury from the other attacker.

The desert provided little cover, and Bregand's best weapon was his stealth and speed. He was also flagging in the heat, while the Haradrim seemed fine, accustomed to the weather and the harsh surroundings. Bregand backed away from the Haradrim, his shield arm tired and bleeding and his strength waning. He was a scholar and no amount of adventuring would really ever make him a fighter. He realised that he was probably going to die here in the desert. to his left he heard a short cry and a gurgle and turned to see Rave crumple over holding her stomach. He didn't know if his face was covered in sweat or tears, but it didn't really matter because the world was suddenly blurry. His attacker jumped forward, sword at the ready, and fell at Bregand's feet, dead. From his back was sticking a throwing knife, elvish...must have been Calimir. Bregand looked around for his saviour but everything was so confused, his mind felt like it was on fire.

Suddenly the crumpled figure of Rave turned into a vision of Carmalita in Bregand's mind. He ran at the Haradrim in a blind rage and his sword passed through the man's neck. The Haradrim fell away taking the sword with him. Bregand knelt beside the dying woman, who was now Rave again, and let the tears wash his sweat away. The fight was still on, but waning. He didn't know who was winning, but despair had taken him.

He heard a shout behind him. He turned to see Carmalita fighting off a swarthy desert man twice her size. He hadn't saved Rave, but he might still be able to make a difference. Still holding his shield, he rushed Carmalita's attacker and used his whole body to force the man to the ground. It was then that he realised he had no weapon on him. Thankfully, Carmalita was more prepared and Bregand saw a knife flash and felt the body under his go limp. He had done something, and it had saved his love. His despair was gone, but in its place was a mix of horror at Rave's death and his capacity to kill, elation at having survived, and terror for the others in the group. Bregand grabbed Carmalita's hand and rushed to where he could hear Wren shouting, a dune away.

"We have to help, if we can," he rasped.