28th of Fall, 512AV
The Tattooed Man's name was Elric, though Razkar never bothered to learn it. The first time they had met, it had been as potential enemies. Now, when the crossed paths on the overgrown trail leading to Haev Provedan's stronghold, it was as fellows in the same enterprise.
But among sellswords, the two amounted to the same thing.
"So you return." The Tattooed Man said, hand resting on the hilt of his sheathed sword, scars and black ink on his face made stark by the midday sun striking through the trees. "I owe Danny over here a copper."
The younger sellsword snorted. There were four of them, as before, the detail for this pathway. At least, this particular part of it. Razkar had no idea how many mercenaries and hired thugs Provedan boasted, but given the man's careful nature, he knew this little checkpoint was not the only one on the sole trail leading to his lair.
This time he stayed on Mrrko, wrapped in his cloak, all he owned packed into saddle bags and rolled up on the beast's back. He leaned forward, face neutral.
"I offered work. I take work. Provedan said come back two weeks, and two weeks is gone." He spurred the horse just a little. "I know way."
The Tattooed Man held his ground for a moment, and then with a sneer he stepped aside. His men followed suit. Razkar felt their eyes on him, ranging from carefully blank to suspicious to just plain contemptuous, and ignored them in turn. He had nothing to prove to any of them, and knew full well that any attempts at kindness or camaraderie would fall flat.
He would always be a barbarian to them. Well, so be it. They were the same to him.
As Mrrko and he made their way down the narrow, winding trail, he soon heard the activity from Rattling Chains. Smoke curled and wound upwards as before, blotching the sky is dark smears. The steady thump of running feet was clear, shouted orders striking through the trees, too.
The forest parted and he was at the edge of the camp. The familiar field of churned earth, pitted and scratched and scarred with trenches and wooden bridges crossing them. Tents of various sizes were dotted around, and once again, he could see a platoon of slaves jogging around the camp's perimeter, ringed by a squad of guards.
Haev certainly put much stock in keeping his produce fresh.
He rode onwards to the clump of sellswords around the mine entrance on the other side of the camp. There were over two dozen of them, few of them wearing armor than matched, armed with every weapon he knew and some he was somewhat hazy on. Humans, mostly. Drykas, too. But here, and there, an Akalak, towering over the rest, harder and colder than their more... legitimate brethren back in Riverfall.
Cutthroats and killers all. Razkar would fit right in.
He rode on, uncaring as they turned to look at him. Some merely frowned and studied him, curious and wary. Others, who were present two weeks past when he gutted and scalped a boy named Justinian, gave him a careful nod. The rest seemed to look down their nose at him.
But all, to a man, spared him only a few moments, then turned their eyes back to the front. Razkar hitched his horse and stood at the side of the group, wondering what was going on...
A man and a woman. The man standing, arms cross, still and patient. The woman was on her knees, eyes rolled back so only her whites showed, hand moving as if... as if she was winding and massaging a thread or a rope in her hands...
Haev Provedan looked up from his lieutenant, seeing his new addition out the corner of his eyes. Those calm, reptilian eyes - honestly, Razkar had seen more emotion in the eyes of Dhani - did not blink or show any kind of surprise or boon. They merely achknowledged him, and went back to watching Caracatas.
Razkar crossed his arms and decided to do the same.
The Tattooed Man's name was Elric, though Razkar never bothered to learn it. The first time they had met, it had been as potential enemies. Now, when the crossed paths on the overgrown trail leading to Haev Provedan's stronghold, it was as fellows in the same enterprise.
But among sellswords, the two amounted to the same thing.
"So you return." The Tattooed Man said, hand resting on the hilt of his sheathed sword, scars and black ink on his face made stark by the midday sun striking through the trees. "I owe Danny over here a copper."
The younger sellsword snorted. There were four of them, as before, the detail for this pathway. At least, this particular part of it. Razkar had no idea how many mercenaries and hired thugs Provedan boasted, but given the man's careful nature, he knew this little checkpoint was not the only one on the sole trail leading to his lair.
This time he stayed on Mrrko, wrapped in his cloak, all he owned packed into saddle bags and rolled up on the beast's back. He leaned forward, face neutral.
"I offered work. I take work. Provedan said come back two weeks, and two weeks is gone." He spurred the horse just a little. "I know way."
The Tattooed Man held his ground for a moment, and then with a sneer he stepped aside. His men followed suit. Razkar felt their eyes on him, ranging from carefully blank to suspicious to just plain contemptuous, and ignored them in turn. He had nothing to prove to any of them, and knew full well that any attempts at kindness or camaraderie would fall flat.
He would always be a barbarian to them. Well, so be it. They were the same to him.
As Mrrko and he made their way down the narrow, winding trail, he soon heard the activity from Rattling Chains. Smoke curled and wound upwards as before, blotching the sky is dark smears. The steady thump of running feet was clear, shouted orders striking through the trees, too.
The forest parted and he was at the edge of the camp. The familiar field of churned earth, pitted and scratched and scarred with trenches and wooden bridges crossing them. Tents of various sizes were dotted around, and once again, he could see a platoon of slaves jogging around the camp's perimeter, ringed by a squad of guards.
Haev certainly put much stock in keeping his produce fresh.
He rode onwards to the clump of sellswords around the mine entrance on the other side of the camp. There were over two dozen of them, few of them wearing armor than matched, armed with every weapon he knew and some he was somewhat hazy on. Humans, mostly. Drykas, too. But here, and there, an Akalak, towering over the rest, harder and colder than their more... legitimate brethren back in Riverfall.
Cutthroats and killers all. Razkar would fit right in.
He rode on, uncaring as they turned to look at him. Some merely frowned and studied him, curious and wary. Others, who were present two weeks past when he gutted and scalped a boy named Justinian, gave him a careful nod. The rest seemed to look down their nose at him.
But all, to a man, spared him only a few moments, then turned their eyes back to the front. Razkar hitched his horse and stood at the side of the group, wondering what was going on...
A man and a woman. The man standing, arms cross, still and patient. The woman was on her knees, eyes rolled back so only her whites showed, hand moving as if... as if she was winding and massaging a thread or a rope in her hands...
Haev Provedan looked up from his lieutenant, seeing his new addition out the corner of his eyes. Those calm, reptilian eyes - honestly, Razkar had seen more emotion in the eyes of Dhani - did not blink or show any kind of surprise or boon. They merely achknowledged him, and went back to watching Caracatas.
Razkar crossed his arms and decided to do the same.
