Fighting Tooth and Sword (Kreig)

[Harkon]

Timestamp: Fall 37th, 514 AV Location: West End of the Kabrin Road, near Paille Plantation border Time of Day: 21st Bell, Around Sunset Harkon was standing around the entrance to the Paille Plantation with a few others. The only reason he was there was because one of the young Morealis boys wanted to see the new caravan coming in. A messenger had arrived two days earlier announcing when his caravan was set to arrive. Harkon's charge sat high on his dark chestnut horse, "How many wagons do you think they'll have?" Harkon thought back to the caravans he and his father traveled with, "I wouldn't be surprised if there was anywhere from five to ten wagons. And probably three times as many horses." The boy looked impressed at this information. They weren't the only ones waiting. There was a handful of others, Dynast, Freeborns, and accompanying slaves alike. Caravans weren't too terribly rare, courtesy of the Kabrin Road, but were fun if you had nothing better to do. Meet new people, make possible deals before they reached the city. Harkon wondered if his father would be among this group of merchants. He visited once or twice a year, and was about due for another. His mother had visited two years back and had loved Kenash, quite proud of her rotten little son. Harkon turned his back to his charge, seeing a new arrival in the form of a very, very beautiful Konti woman, probably a Konrath. Her hair seemed crafted from Syna herself, tumbling down her back, stopping just before her ample rump. She had on a loose skirt and blouse that let Harkon eyeball the valley between her well endowed breasts. She either didn't notice his admiration, or didn't care, looking westward, watching the road just as everyone else was doing. He was about to step toward her, when he heard a very familiar sound from behind him, wood dragging across leather. He ducked and spun as the boy shouted, "Hyah!" swiping where Harkon's neck had been with his wooden practice sword. Harkon laughed, looking up at his horse bound friend, "Almost got me that time, getting quicker with that sword." The boy beamed at the praise, now swinging his sword at imaginary enemies. He heard a small, feminine chuckle from behind him, and turned with a small grin on his face. He'd thought the boy had perhaps ruined his introduction with the lovely woman, but it seemed he'd given him an in. "Surely you don't mock the lad's prowess with his blade. He's the mightiest slayer of Qorhogs and Shielings." It was quite obvious to everyone in earshot that he'd made those words up, except the boy, who stuck his chest with pride. The woman, still giggling, stepped closer, "Is he your son?" Harkon smiled and shook his head, "No, merely a curious boy wishing to see the caravan, and I the ever faithful bodyguard." He then gently took her hand in his, crouched down, and kissed it, "I am Harkon, of the sons of Lywah, and it is my pleasure to meet you." She smiled, flushing red and stifling a giggle, bright eyes matching his own, "I am Ala'ria Konrath. It is quite nice to see you training the future hero of Kenash." Harkon's grin grew wider as an eyebrow hiked up in curiosity. She was seemingly as interested in him as he was in her. "It is the most rewarding part of the job, isn't that right Master Brannick?" The boy beamed and nodded eagerly. Then Brannick shouted some unintelligible noise in his excitement, pointing his sword down the road. If you looked close, you could see the faint outline of the caravan in the distance beginning its final approach. It was still much too far to discern the number of wagons and state of their arrival. But the excitement rippled through the small group of people as they began talking more and more. But something in Harkon's stomach didn't feel right. He wasn't sure what it was, but he had a very bad feeling about this.

[Kreig Messer]

Kreig didn't know why he had decided to be out thus late, he just knew he wanted to do a bit of exploring and he found himself outside the city and the west of the Kabrin. There had been a group of people there when he arrived earlier and that group seemed to be waiting for something... from what murmurs he could discern apparently it was to be a carvan though from where he had no idea... it didn't matter much to him.

Whilst he was this far he had decided to carry his wooden longsword with an iron core, heavier than average wooden swords it was supposed to simulate the weight of an actual longsword, planning on using the training devuce to well...train. He had left his actual sword back at the Complex seeing no need for it as he had also carried with him his studded guantlets which hung from his waist.

There wer eplenty of people with the most noticabke some plantation merc who seemed to be with a child...probably a Dynasty child since outside Kenash is where the plantations laid... he had heard the wird master being muttered so he took that as a confirmation. Another person of interest was the Konti woman who seemed to be quite sultry in her attire of choice. Was she a Konrath Dynast or just a Konti freeborn? The former seemed to be more likely since again they were close to the Dynasty plantations although which ones he did not know.


He sighed as he realized he would not be getting any training as he held the wooden sword from its blade and rested its pommel against his shoulder, adjusting his wide brimmed hat to hude his annoyance but lifting it once he heard the folks makin' a commotion... It seemed the caravan had arrived and they were a big one from the initial imoression, althpugh it was too early to make certain of that.

Kreig's nerves began to gnaw at him how ever, especially when he noted the male merc's look of concern when Kreig turned his head to look at the crowd. Kreig found himself growing more in unease since there were civilians about, if there was trouble to be had then they would be the most in danger.

Of course all of it could simply be nerves, sensing danger where there wasn't but there was no wrong in erring on the side of caution so he flipped his blade so that his grip was upon the wood of the pommel and his left hand upon his guantlets... if there as to he confilc then he would be prepared.
x

[Harkon]

Harkon's unease forced him to glance around the growing crowd, eyes passing over every individual. His assessment wasn't good, many had come without guards like himself, perhaps feeling safe so close to the plantations. He did see a man with a training sword and gauntlets, whom he didn't recognize. Appearing nonchalant, Harkon assumed the man was there of his own volition, and not protecting a charge. Eyes looking back to the road, he could now make out a few more unsettling details of the caravan. The lead wagon appeared to only have one horse pulling, not the standard two. Several of the covering tarps and canvas had been ripped and torn. But the worst was the fact that there were only three caravans, and what seemed to be about four people. There was no way that this was all of them. He had to assume they'd survived a terrible ordeal, and these were the survivors. "Hi ho Shilver!" Harkon looked over just in time to see Brannick charging his horse forward, giggling like a little maniac. "Master Brannick! Stop! It's not safe!" But he was a young Dynast, and would not be stopped from being the first to meet the caravan. Harkon swore up and down in Shiber, cursing his luck, as he took off after the boy. He pumped his arms and legs as hard as he could knowing he could never catch the horse. But if his gut was right, he needed to meet up with him as soon as possible. Harkon realized that he needed a horse in the future, as well as learning how to ride one, if only to not look ridiculous chasing after a young child. Still running, he could see that Master Brannick had stopped in front of the caravan. He hopped down off his horse, when a loud screech ripped out over the road. Harkon felt his gut drop. Everyone in Cyphrus knew that sound. Zith. Harkon ripped his axe from its peace-tie, and ran with it in hand, his eyes scanning the skies for the petching winged rats. The screech rang out again, spooking Brannick's horse, sending it racing back toward the city, without the young man upon it. The horses pulling the wagons were startled now, but weren't able to run near as fast with the loads they carried. The lead wagon was charging toward Brannick who had appeared to have frozen up in fear, the driver finding the horse non-responsive to his commands. The screeches were louder and closer now, and Harkon saw the first of them, swooping over a small rise in the land, heading straight for the caravan. Harkon reached the boy, scooping him up with one arm, momentarily slipping his axe into his belt. As the wagon passed, he used both arms to throw the boy into the rear with the trade goods. As the wagon continued onward, he saw the boy stick his head out and look back at him. Momentarily relieved that the boy was safer, he was a sitting duck. Another wagon came up, going much slower, which allowed Harkon to climb up into the rear, watching the Zith flying ever closer, the driver too busy to care about his new passenger. There were four Zith flying toward them now. Two of them broke formation however, heading for the group of panicked onlookers, the other two still dead set on the caravans. Harkon drew his axe and waited. He knew they weren't escaping this without bloodshed, but he wouldn't go down without fighting.