South Woods: Letters of the Damned Part II

[Antar]

46th of Fall, 511av.

In the morning's false light, a man , a falcon and a wagon bearing a sickly child creaks through forest's leaf covered trail. Above him the moisture from a the passing night condenses itself as bits of droplets fall from the high branches. The cold droplet slices through the salty ocean-air fog to hit him in the back of the neck.

Cursing a little man pulls his cloak around himself a little tighter and takes a firmer grip upon his bow as he leads his horse by the reins. The wagon's creaking is muffled slightly as he continues down the road which will lead him into the hills, and the springs bathouse above. The armored man's hand reaches up to feel over his heart, where a letter from the prior day's happenings is stored. It is a letter, with a challenge, a date and a place, but not exactly forthcoming with details.

A letter from a mysterious figure from his past, which eludes to only struggle in his future and promised pain. The only simplicity that he takes note of was the man's words: the others think he died in that shipwreck. That the man wouldn't tell them, he wanted to kill Noth for himself.

That means in order to keep his secrets, he must be able to obtain the old edge to his actions, and fight, and overcome the challenges which await him. For that is the essence of struggles in Sunberth, the essence of what one must do to acquire what information they could, to buy themselves the time they'd need, before striking back.

The white haired rogue had gone to great means to bury his past, and any who attempted to dig it free were bound to be in a world of hurt eventually... But for now, he had a child that had to be soaked in the springs and care for. All to pray that he might glean a simple clue as to where the stranger had come from, and more importantly; who he was.

[Antar]

The hot springs were just as nice as he could have imagined them... a safe haven amidst the southern hills and wilds. Surrounded by high walls to keep the animals out a small walkway up several sheets of rocky steps lead towards the hotsprings proper. Another winding road up to an area where wagons and horses were tied in a stable was present and a small side road lead from this area upon towards the Inn which was linked to the bathouses.

A small gate blocked the way, and he lifted the crossbar up and over towards the sides of the way and began to march his wagon up the road. Soon enough , the rogue was stopped by one of the Inn's workers and he motioned her closer to see what was lying in the back of the wagon. It was the wrapped bundle of the girl he had spent nursing back to health. The one he had been forced to pull from the fires. His entire gear was stowed in the wagon and he paid the stabling fee and one for the room. He needed the child to recover enough to talk to him.

Needed to know more about the robed beggar, the mystery man from his past which had accosted him in a deadly game of bloodsport. During that challenge, the white haired rogue had slain this girl's brother in combat. He bore a bit of remorse for that. Not much, but a slight tinge somewhere down below the blackened bile of his soul. The boy had been used, by what seemed to be an enemy of his past. An enemy which he hadn't figured out where they knew him from.

The situation was downright frustrating. His eyes roamed towards the back of the wagon where Ellise, clothed in her human form was lying beside the girl. Keeping her warm. After explaining to the inn staff he was transporting the child here to help her recover and that he would like some help in the baths with her a short audience with the inn keeper's master and mistress was requested of him.

Natlana was likeable sort, the very picture of a kind old woman poured straight out of a storybook. But Antar's eyes would note a hardness of lines in the old woman's face and a slight build of muscle upon her wiry form. She looked like a woman half her age, even if she must be pushing seven decades from the rumors. Her eyes were kind and she took one look at the child and then one measured look at Antar, seeing him as if she knew what he was.

He felt the peculiar sense of magic nearby, of djed being manipulated as the woman silently looked him over. In reply, he kindled his auristics talents to see the old woman's aura, the fierce white of her aura seemed to blind him and he nodded his head respectfully in acknowledgement to her presence. Her aura held no sort of fuzzy edge , but rather a crisp and clean line of separation, and hues of warm greens and yellows of happiness dotted her aura as a small series of blue power lines seemed like crow's feet around her eyes. A signifying presence of djed use, particularly of auristics.

His bow of respect became a little deeper in return as he shut his abilities down at the first hint of a headache. A brief bit of words exchanged between them and he was asked if he had any relation to the child he had brought.

Seeing no reason to lie, the rogue explained the prior days events, his being challenged in the pits by her brother. The eventual fight and the solemn journey towards the farms where he had pulled her from the fires while fighting those that had used her and her family as tools to strike at him.

Something inside him felt inclined to trust this woman, so he did as he was bade to allow a few of the inn's servants to take the child to the springs. The rogue was asked whether he would care for this child, he only replied that she was only to be in his charge till he had information upon the culprits behind the trials, and that her brother had wished her passage to Mura.

He was asked if he could pay such passage, and he replied he did not know. He did not even know if he would survive the night or the next day.

The woman asked him why, and he explained he had received a second challenge, that he had been told to come here, perhaps to be escorted deep into the woods nearby to be ambushed or face another trial from the one who seemed bent upon his destruction.

It was odd when the woman looked at him, telling him that his words bore no sense of falsehood and that made her respect him a little. He was asked if he might wish to stay awhile at the Springs himself, and he said that was his plan, and that he would pay up front if necessary, even for several days of care for the girl , as well as leaving behind twenty of his own gold mizas for her care if he was not to return.

He was asked why he would go through the trouble over someone that would serve no use to him after he was dead, or really no use to him at all.

The rogue replied that she was an innocent... not one who attacked him and thus it would be against his code to take her life. Natlana asked her what code he followed, and he replied that he followed the harshest code of all, one beaten into him with whips and chains in a past he had tried to forget to live as peacefully as possible as a woodsman, just working at the Carver Brothers. At his words, the old woman's eyes flashed a bit of recognition and she had explained that she had visited there once before, to order lumber and repairs to the hot springs. Perhaps that was where she had seen him?

He didn't know. But he offered that no matter what , that during his stay he would be happy to assist her in any repairs, at least in order to pass the time to keep his nerves at ease.

Soon enough, she bade him enter the Inn and the Springs, and she gave him assurances that the child would be sent to Mura if she could be sure to survive the trip. Natlana would assure his safety whil in the baths and Inn and he was shown to a room. She would tell him if anything arrived for him and that her husband would meet her in the yard soon. He could stay here until the troubles passed... or until he had no breath to give them over the next few days of turmoil.

For some reason, the white haired rogue trusted the woman's word. Far more then he would trust any person of sunberth's A room which he would become readily acquainted with over the next few weeks. A room he'd consider safety, even if he would have to eventually pay for it, one next to the child's who Ellise and the the attendants were caring for. For the first time in two days, his eyes hit the pillow and he slept, comforted by the sounds of rain upon the rooftops.

Yet his dreams were filled with the perilous thought of shadows sneaking towards him , their shapeless forms moving and twisting like small bloody golems with glowing red eyes as they sought to try to take his life...

[Antar]

A few hours later, the rogue woke up in a cold sweat. The sheets around his head were stained with perspiration. But not of the good kind. He'd been having dreams. It took him a moment to come back from them to blink away his stupor. He had really been tired enough to sleep for real, not even the light repose he usually took where he could wake at the fluttering of a fly's wings twenty feet away.

'Was he getting soft?'

No. He was just tired, and fatigued. But Fatigue was not a weakness he could afford right now. Another knock came upon his door, this one louder and a gruff male voice called out his name. He rubbed his bleary eyes and walked over to the door, putting one foot down to stop it from being forced opened if it was an assailant. He cracked the door open about an inch and gazed into the withered old features of Max standing there with a hammer and few bits of wood.

"You Anthony?"
"Yes."
"Wife said you were interested in helping to fix things during your stay here, said she recognized you from the carvers, right?"
"Yes, I told them I was having a bit of trouble I'd have to deal with and take a short hiatus for a few days. Old Business cropping up." Antar used the term for "Old Business'' with the peculiar connotations that gave it weight in sunberth. Just as "business as usual" was a generic phrase to denote the sound of hearing someone being mugged or harmed like it was nothing more then a passing issue, "Old Business.'' meant you were in trouble from something outside the 'Berth and a lot of Sunberthan's respected that and left you alone or kept their mouths shut to your presence.

It was different if you were being hunted from within the city- but outside usually meant an authority of some sort from away from the city was making trouble.
"No knights, I hope." Max grunted.
"No, not the sylirans, I've actually never been on bad terms with them according to my best knowledge. Just another man from afar."
"Ravok?"
The man was wondering if he had been to Ravok, or gotten in trouble with the Ebonstryfe there. "I've been there once or twice, on a 'job' but no trouble with Ravok's elite. I tend to not like the chaos there. Personal reasons though. I grew up there for a few seasons after leaving home. Zeltiva too."

"I do business with the Carvers, I told them that one of their boys was in trouble and they seemed glad to hear the news even mentioned you. You seem to be one of their hardst workers. Told them I'd use you to help out around here and pay them a fee to let you help. Think it's more a days work, though we'll well... me wife told me of yar' problems. Long as no one comes to burn the inn down yar welcome to hide out, and go where you need to. So come along it's almost dawn and a few of the rooms need repairs, and Keith's saying you can help do it. Even sent you your tool bag over. You can return 'em or buy 'em at the end of the season he said. So hurry up. They ain't breathing a word to anybody yar' here. Though the wife's watching like a hawk for anyone else who comes to deliver a message. Seems you need to do a little work while the ladies and servants care for the girl. She ain't out of the woods, but you bandaged her up good. Almost battlefield grade dressings I'd say. Where' d you learn that? Syliras? You perhaps a squire?"

"No sir, but in another life which I fled from I might have wished to be. I wasn't a slave either, unless you count a slave as one who was told to kill others without impunity on their conscience."
"Assassin boy on the run?"
"Bounty Hunter, Assassin, spy, sleuth, whatever they wanted you to be one day, that was what you were. Just another work towards Kryssuss' favor. Though I really don't like the goddess there. Too many of her marked and favored were quite bloodthirsty in their dealing with others..." He paused a moment, "by reputation of course."
"I see. Come along. It's time to fix some of the decking."

Without another word the bag of tools was pressed into arms and the old man turned from the room to lead Noth towards the bathing area with his tools, "I got planking in the wood shed , we'll be using. It's treated with resin, so don't mess up. Today, I'm your boss, Carvers orders."

"Yes Sir." Noth replied a moment before venturing out into the common pool area. The heat from the water was warm and from a side room a few bits of giggles were being heard. He was curious but the old man spoke roughly again, "One rule, never enter a private bath without permission of the one renting it. Even if your here in some official capacity with your job now. Don't intrude lest some people let you. No stealing. No thieving, Defend yarself if you have to, my wife and I may overlook that, but above all know that any damage in that defense, you'll either pay for, or use your skills to fix, go that?"

"Yes Sir." the rogue said demurely as they were lead into the last room. It was obvious some of the wooden thrush pipes for routing the water. "Alright, get some tacks, and yar tools out. I'll go get us some treated piping cover to help overlay this."

[Antar]

While the old man walked away, Noth tooked a close look at the fount and realized the springwaters flowed into the private bath's naturally through a series of pipes. There was no pump or other facsimile which shunted the pressurized water in but the pipe and for a moment the craftsman in him forgot his worries to inspect the structure. The metal of the pipe was a wrapped and rolled over sheet of steel that was phosphor welded at the joint. Phosphur welding wasn't the best thing but it worked
, and the pieces would probably used to be placed one over the top of each till they were sealed with tar that he recognized, because the Carver brothers made it. He'd seen it around the shop in the storeroom as well as remembered one key fact.

Ol' Legs bought it by the barrelful for his ship's as well.

It was a concoction of burned Peat and organic compost, with treesap mixed within it. Boiling it at a low temperature allowed it to be congealed together in a mix that became thicker the longer you boiled it. Some thickened amounts were great for masonry, like here, and other lengths of time provided the best gooky subject to help caulk a ship with to prevent any leaks at the joists.

Fascinating.

Following the pipes to the wall, he ventured slowly towards a door that lead outside... in the rocky hillside Antar came to glimpse the process of what made the bathhouses work in the first place, and the audacity of the actual view astounded him. Not in the size and scope of what he asw but rather in its complexity. His respect for the old man grew tenfold as he realized what he was seeing, and moreover his mind began to process how it was built and duplicated in the future. But he saw that this one, had sources drawn from multiple springs. A single source for the common pools, and this engineering marvel in front of him fed the private baths through the pipes.

The hotsprings steamy waters flowed from a single fount in the hillside's edge, and the tubing snaked downwards to allow the warm liquids to tumble down into a basin of heated rocks covering an an enclosed dug out pit. From the pits center, an aritifical artesian well had been formed to bring the steamy waters beneath upwards to a miniature aquaduct filled with many shoots of piping that split the water off a single long, downhil slide with the individual pipe lines snaking back into the sides of the bathhouse's walls to deliver the steamy flow into each private bath, from there the water cycled to drains which ran under the bathouse and met up with the offpour from the main common pool as well to form a small stream which ran down and out of the property's heavy walls before disappearing from sight into the forests below.

The holding pit for the artesian waters had a side shunt as well with a covered gate, just in case the mooring timbers of cedar needed to be replaced. Cedar was a wonderful wood to use, it kept its form under constant hydration and if it was cut right, any excess swelling would only lock the joints together tighter to prevent seepage. Around the cedar timbers, a wall of masonry bricks stood to buttress the wood, and then in turn was buttressed by an outer ring of heavy stone and soil through which the water shunt flowed through when it was needed to lower the waters or remove the stones for repairs... There was even a carved cedar slide rail layered in thrush wood to divert the intial spring fount into the holding basin.

Amazing.

Suddenly , his body tensed and he almost panicked at the danger being outside with a distracted mind had put him in and he spun upon his heel to go back inside as quickly as possible. As his hand reached the open door to shut it behind he saw the old man looking at him with a peculiarly arched eyebrow before a gruff chuckle came from deep within the old man's throat. "Checking out what I built there, Anthony? You seem a little pale. Forgot that you didn't want to be outside or something? "

Unabashed, and sighing a bit, Noth nodded without bother denying it. "Erh. Yes Ser. An interesting setup, I can see how it could be used further, even if you wanted to add a separate line or two to add a bit of showers for people to cool off, though you might have to find a cold spring to do it."

The face of the grizzled greybeard suddenly came alight with a smile, "Interesting idea, perhaps you'll be back to help me put on an expansion to the inn. But I must say, I've only seen that look of wonder on the carver brother's faces when they saw what I built before. That's good though, show's you have the mind of a craftsman if you can change the other habits."

He gave the old man a sheepish smile, "Old habits like those are hard to break, especially in a place like Sunberth, Ser."

Max snorted a bit, and then arced his head back towards the closed private bath. "Enough dawdling, we got a few things to fix, I got the tacks and nails and don't want this to last all day. We have customers to think about, you know."

Noth nodded once and followed the old man back inside, strangely feeling as if he had been chastised effectively by an old soldier, or at least someone who knew they had a personal authority on their own property which could not be denied...

[Antar]

The sound of hammering echoed through the bathhouse, even muffled by the walls as Antar held the thrushwood pieces together to where it was being tacked around the metal conduit as the adhesive tar began to grip the construction together. The water on this pipe had been shut off by the old man, and Antar began to learn the tenants of masonry from him as he hammered in the small tack nails. Ever sure to keep his blows steady.

"Listen, the most basic thing you got to remember when fixing something, is both the stress on the surroundings, and what materials you need to use. Without pondering those two things first, you'll never get a job done right. Just merely thinking things through will help you in the long run."

"Wise words to live by in all things Ser, may I ask how the girl is doing?"

"She is being cared for by the maids, and my wife and is resting. Hopefully she will wake up tonight. Do you care for her in some way?"

"If you mean there is an emotional attachment then no... but I feel a responsibility for her life after saving it. That I cannot deny even beyond the fact any information she holds may tell me who is hunting me."

The old man's eyes crinkled a little. "Who is hunting you? Yes... I heard my wife speak of it, she is keeping an eye out and an ear to the ground. So far, no one in sunberth may wish you ill will. So who might it be?"

Sighing a moment, wondering what to reveal and not reveal Antar erred on the side of caution, "Would you keep such things a secret, to your dying day. I owe you much already old man for allowing me to stay here."
"Yes."
Antar's eyes locked with Max's as he stuttered out. "I was pronounced dead to a very dangerous group, a group which had me in their thrall since I was a teenager. I didn't like them telling me when and where to go, who to kill, that sort of thing. That's why... when I took the chance I fled to Sunberth, to bide me time to train myself for what's coming. They have a... reputation for ensuring those that flee do not live, or are ... returned to one of those that feel they are doing the work of a higher will."
"You mean this group feels obligated to kill in the name of a god or goddess?"
"I'd rather not say, let's just leave it at that. I must simply prepare and struggle for the future." The rogue paused and licked his lips before continuing, "To kill someone is a choice that can only be made by an individual, not to be tarnished by a desire not of oneself. Even though I do not abhor violence, I simply act right now by older instincts."

With the tar in place and setting the man gave it a cautious eye, before turning to stare a long moment "I might train you better in a swo- " The old man cut himself off as a servant entered the room where they were working and bowed, "Innmaster Max, I'm afraid your wife requests yours and the guests presences. A letter has arrived for him by the most mysterious means... it was carried by a child of the orphanage. One I know shouldn't be wandering out this far from Sunberth on their own. The Mistress shan't let him leave without escort."

With a worried glance in the old man's direction, the rogue muttered aloud. "And so it begins..."

[Antar]

A bell and a half later...

On the brightest of days, the woods surrounding Sunberth were a place of solace for the rogue, a means to get away from the chaos of the city, to work with the wood and actually create something instead of feeling as if death stalked his shadow. But not today, the rains of yesterday still had kept the hillside earth soaked and unsteady, and his mind was in overdrive as it scanned his way for any signs of trouble or ambush. Every single snapping twig, every creaking branch or whistling of the wind above the trees to make a second sea seemed to urge his body to flee or fight.

The letter which had come held no comfort to him, in the darkness of the underwoods, instead its crimson paper, and red wax seal set a grisly theme of murder and carnage which was sure to follow.

It's message had been of little words, nothing of dire import, merely a simple sentence, "The circle of stones on the ridges southeast, above the streams." Nothing more , nothing less. A clear challenge of his past life which would brook no argument but blood. This game of cat and mouse was approached by some, as easily as picking a choice of breakfast, in fact he was sure his present adversary would feel the same way. They knew how deadly the other was, it was only a matter of time. But the Beggar had taunted Antar, saying that he wished to 'hone his tarnished skills; to make him into the killer he had once fled from." Gods above and fiends below, why did his past have to choose of all times this season to come and torment him again?

Could it not have waited until he was better prepared, stronger?

At least he'd take solace that the one innocent in this mess, perhaps two if he counted the child from the orphanage, a female no more then eight who seemed confused where she was, would no longer be mired in his mess.

Perhaps the enemy thought the woods and the hills were the best place for an ambush... however they were soon to find out they had made a grievious mistake. He knew the woods far better then he. Taking one foot in front of the other, the rogue shambled towards a rocken face in the hillside cliffs and began to climb.

Halfway up the first time, the rock he was holding onto fell , sliding him back downt he embankment a good ten feet before his gloves found enough purchase to slow his descent. A few arrows bounced from his quiver, leaving him cursing silently as they clattered down to the ground below. Hugging the rock face like a spider, Noth prayed to whatever had made the syms such great climbers to lend an ear to help him now.

The wind was cold, and the breeze of the hills wafting through the forest break before the cliffs bit through his clothing and leathers like ice, tormenting him with the frigid memory of the Talderan tundras and the ice of Avanthal. For just a moment he wished he was back there, even if it was within the most difficult hunt of his former career he had ever partaken. A fight against, not just an inhuman beast, but against the elements as well. Gods, he wished he had asked for Morwen's blessing then. Someday, if he ever went back he would, at least so the cold would not freeze his petching balls off in the wind... though he supposed a slight prayer to Zulrav would help as well, so he did make another prayer as he restarted his ascent.

On the rest of the way up, he had to pan sideways across the rock, feeling the burning of his muscles with every handgrip and foothold. But eventually he had made his way towards a rocky crevasse he could wedge himself into. The rogue began to push himself up one step at a time, with his back against solid stone, and his feet held outwards against the other side of the face to help his climb. At the top of the cliffface, the white haired man, wearily pulled his body over the edge and kissed the mushy ground beneath his feet.

A quick stock of his weapons, showed he only had twelve arrows of the twenty he had brought left, but he figured that would have to do. Gazing towards the distance, he could see the circle of stone edifices, distinguishing itself out of the canopy below the hills due to its stark white contrast. The old couple had explained it had been a prayer circle of some sort, many of the tribes of people emerging after the Valterrian had built them to remember their way, and their prayers to the gods, the area around sunberth was sprinkled with quite a few of them, the old couple had said there was even one in the center of the city on the small riverside isle.

The stones of the circle were quite tall, easily eighteen feet in height, and their alabaster, and limestone surface carved with smooth scrawls of glyphs that his eyes could not discern at this distance. Over the centuries the rock faces had been worn down by the wind and the rain, the natural course of the elements which might even carve mountains in due time, like the stories told about great glaciers traversing over the land like a scouring pad, leaving valleys in their wake... or at least that was what the stories told. Who knew if any of such stories were true?

Unlimbering his bow, he took a sharper look towards the stones, as a spot of black crossed one of the stone edifices in his vision. It could have been a raindrop passing before his eye, and for a moment he even thought it had been. Until another blot of shadow crossed the white blotch of color in the distance. He had been right, there was an ambush waiting for him.... but how many?

Breathing deeply he began to center his mind with a bit of meditation, breathing in slowly through his nose, and out through his mouth as he pondered the best way to begin his assault. There was only one thing that rang crystal in his mind as he began his ponderings of tactics, judging the ground and the outcomes of a myriad number of situations. Today, on this hillside blood would be spilled, and contrary to the ambitions of those who saught to ambush him... he would be the first to spill it.

[Antar]

The trick about setting up a proper ambush, is to be aware of the terrain, use it to make the enemy come into a place where they could be bottlenecked and most importantly, fall prey to any traps one could fashion. But in order for any of that to happen, one had to remain concealed long enough to prepare.

Here, upon the hill overlooking the stone circle he had a good bit of cover, bushes and shrubber which he could use to mask his presence long enough to effectively begin. He'd start with a deadrop, a series of boulders enhanced by a drawn glyph on the rock. With his skill of earth reimancy, a few tumbling rocks at a charging group coming uphill could knock the feet out from under any charging group of people. Especially when rolling downhill. But in order to stay hidden where it would be best to place the trap, he'd need to break out his outline from afar. Gathering a bunch of clippings and grasses he worked them into his helmet around his cloak's top, giving his head the appearance of a raggedy bush and fastened a few in his weapon harness to help mar the dark presence of his shadowsilk robes. A dark blotch on the hill would be helpful, so long as he stayed close to the ground to look like soil.

After a few minutes, warily taking quick glances down towards where the ambushers were, he began to snake crawl down twenty feet downhill towards a good location to begin his glyphing. Setting to work, the rogue pulled his kukri from it's sheathe and crbegan to sketch a pattern of a focus glyph surrounded by a runic circle in the earth. To better ensure the circles working, a brief veneer of res was placed and formed over each glyph, hardening it to stone and thus to symbols as a means of ensuring no light breeze could ruin his efforts, and the action held a conservative use of his djed as well. With the glyph, he could use half of what he normally would have to dislodge and attract parts of the hillside to dig out and cause a miniature avalanche. Or... he could use the same amount for a more deadly rain of boulders. All of it would depend upon the circumstances when he began his assault.

But this trap wasn't the only one he intended to make.

Crawling on his belly, head down he slowly pushed his arms forward and then arched his back to continue towards his next goal. A small sapling clinging gingerly to a rock just slightly above and behind his now worked glyph for a deadfall where a patch of shrubbery caught his eye. Noth would use for cover whilst he worked and then again his kukri came in handy. Cutting a few stout branches he worked quietly, carving them into stakes, ever watchful of the dangerous presence below before cutting a few bits of the tall hillgrass for cordage along with a small piece of rope he'd use as a tripwire.

Taking his time, hardly daring to breathe, the stakes were attached to the sapling with the hillgrass. Each second interminable as he was sure to do it right. Then, with the utmost care, Noth bent the sapling backwards and looping it around the trunk of the shrub bush before running it off on an angle that would run across the breadth of the hill before he tied it down to a pullable stake he pushed into the ground.

This type of trap was designed that when the tripline was pulled, the slack of the rope would allow the winnowy sapling to snap back to it's originally point just over where the tripwire was. And with the wooden stakes... well... whoever got hit was bound to be having a very bad day unless in full plate. Even then they'd probably be knocked on their arse to fall downhill.

The last type of trap was to be made just before the place he had chosen as his firing position. An outcropping of rock and bushes up where he had spotted the stone circle originally.

A simple pit trap he'd use while arming the first deadfall.

Snake crawling back uphill he breathed a sigh of relief when it seemed the threatening band below had not seemed to spot him yet. Taking a look at the clouded sky, and feeling the dampness in the air, Antar thought he was ready. Putting his kukri away, the rogue placed his arrows on the ground, took out a half crouch as he slowly allowed the res to slowly build and flow in an arc from him just over the ground. Haste in this circumstance would be wasteful, and a frugal accounting of his djed was what he was after. He had no idea how long of a fight this would be, only that he would have to win it. About three feet away, he used the attractant force to create a ditch about six inches in the hillside loam before moving the mass slowly downhill the forty feet to the deadfall letting it suffuse into the ground, reaching deep into the soil underneath the boulders as the archer judged himself finally ready to begin.

Not doing anything but leave the res there till it was needed he peered down at the stone circle and began to sight downrange. His careful eye taking in the waving of the hillgrass from the breeze as he prepared to fire. From what he could see, the ambushers were getting sloppy. Five of them just laizing around waiting in half cover that would give them a view of the hills below... but not above.

He viewed such a thing as 'Amateurish, to think that they could not be outflanked even in such a position.

His first shot leapt from his bow and took a shadowy figure standing by one of the largest stones in the throat before he slumped down with a low burbling moan of blood as the man lungs began to fill with his own fluid. A crossbow falling from his hands. Without caring for the loss, Antar swivelled his gaze towards the next one he could see, an unhelmeted shortbowman who was beginning to stir and knocked his second arrow before drawing a bead on the man's head.

Always shooting center of mass, as he had been trained to do.

Letting the quarrel fly with a 'swish' of parting air, Noth grinned with satisfaction as the man found himself with a new and bloody hole in the head before even having time to investigate the first one's burble. Pulling out a third arrow, Noth knocked it and looked for another target of opportunity. From below, he could hear the first stirring of people wondering what appeared to be the cause of their compatriots strange noises. But hopefully Noth could be fast enough to winnow their numbers down some more.

After all, it wouldn't do to waste the element of surprise, would it?