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Red_Snow |
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Turn |
Title
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First posted
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Turn 2 |
Amongst The Debris
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8/9/99
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--- Backpost: Turn One--- Urkan dropped back down. "Come on, boys. Things just took a turn for the worse." Drawing his sword, he leapt over the palisade and skidded and slid down the far side of the mound. The mercenary drew his blade, grinned at the others, and vaulted after the guard captain. The Soldier shrugged, gave the Halfling a leg up over the wooden wall, and followed after with the Labourer and Initiate in close pursuit. As the three disappeared into the darkness, the Soldier paused. Drawing his mace, he crouched low and slowly made his way forward. ---Skip to waggon--- The Elf knelt on one knee next to the prostrate body of their driver, one hand to his throat. "He's still breathing." Urkan and the others jogged out of the darkness, the jangling of their equipment muffled by their heavy clothing. The town had long since disappeared into the darkness behind them. Urkan took one look at the Elf's face, turned, and stared at the burning wagons, the mess of broken and dying flesh that used to be the horses, and the smashed crates and split sacks. "Shit," he said. "Now what?" ---Turn Two--- The Elf looked up at the figures that had materialised
out of the falling snow. "Do you know this man?" he asked, a rough edge
in his voice. "I think he's still alive. How far is it to the closest
shelter?" The lanky young man, still kneeling in the snow, looking
pained. "I couldn't give a damn about that incompetent hick of a wagon-driver!"
He swore. "Has anyone seen my bag?" Without waiting for an answer, he
levered himself upright. Hugging himself against the cold, he lurched
towards the burning wreckage, peering vaguely into the flames and snowdrifts
for the missing knapsack. The Labourer stepped up beside the stunned Captain and shook his head. As the heat of their run faded from him, his arms began to shake with cold. He hugged his arms tightly around himself and bent half-over. The shaking subsided and he stood up again. Noticing the fire, he ambled across to the burning wagon and stood basked in the heat for a few seconds. Stepping closer, his foot turned on a loose potato and nearly pitched him against the wreck. Noticing the smashed supplies as if for the first turn, he began to kick through the waste. The Mercenary turned in a slow circle, the point of his blade held chest-high. "Urkan," he called, "where's the guy with the crossbow gone?" Urkan looked up from Mund's white, slack, face. "Who?" "The guy with the crossbow. 'Bout 5'11", 6'. Green eyes, short-cut beard. I could have sworn he was right behind me!" The Initiate nodded, his eyes shining. "He stopped to pull out his mace, and we passed him." Urkan groaned. "Typical. He's probably forming ranks and files back there, somewhere. Bloody military training." The Mercenary smiled. "Well, I'm not going to wait for him. Mund, here, isn't going to last long in this cold. We have to get him back." The Mercenary nodded. Urkan grabbed one edge of the unconscious man's cloak, leaving the Elf to take the other. The Mercenary stepped up to lift the man's legs and Urkan waved him away. "No. I want you on escort duty." He twisted his head to stare at the shivering Outrider, "and I want you on point. Visibility is piss-poor tonight and we could do without stumbling over the Goblins." He grinned, showing the points of all his teeth. The Initiate felt the flush of adrenaline as he realised
the danger of their predicament - caught in a storm outside a town under
siege, dragging a dying man. He wrapped numb hands around the small
silver hammer hanging from the chain about his neck, and whispered a
prayer to Sigmar for courage. He glanced around for a weapon that would
serve him better than the small knife at his belt. Urkan caught his
eye and tugged his sword from its scabbard. "Here, you carry this. I've
got my hands full, already." The boy smiled nervously and cradled the
steel blade to his chest. ---End Turn--- |
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