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Red_Snow |
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Turn |
Title
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First posted
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Turn 3 |
White Desert
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10/9/99
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---Backpost: Turn 2--- 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. Urkan shifted his grip on the cloak. Straightening, he glanced round at the others. "All right, let's go!" ---Turn 3--- Suddenly, someone shouted a warning. The sound was incongruously loud in the silence of the night yet was carried away by the wind and driving snow. Only a whisper reached the party about the body. The Elf paused and looked back towards the burning wagon. The Labourer quickly bent down and levered a small hoop-bound wooden keg from the ground, out from under the corner of a burning oil-cloth. Holding the keg close to his chest, he took several quick steps backwards, placing the keg gently in the snow at his feet several metres away from the burning wreckage. Turning to the rest of the group, he shouted again, "that's gunpowder! Someone should look after that!!" As they watched, he skirted the flames and knelt down beside a pile of broken crate-slats and spilled vegetables. He fumbled with the pile for a moment and stood up. A half-full sling bag hung from one shoulder, and he had two small cotton sacks in his arms. Twisting as he walked back towards the unconscious Mund, the Labourer wedged one into the top of the bag. The Student caught his eye as they passed. The Labourer nodded. "That’s all I can see that's left." he shouted, pointing back at the broken crate. "The sling is full of dried meat, but I think we should leave the other sacks of oats, it's too much trouble to carry them; And we should take the gunpowder. Its not too big, I might be able to carry it." The Student ignored what he was saying, and waved at the large crate next to them. "Don't just stand there, give me a hand with this crate! I've got some very valuable books in my bag under there, and damned if I'll let them burn!" The youth gestured wildly as he spoke, pointing at a huge crate of grain - a slowly burning crate. Duncan placed the final sack of oats in the snow, unhooked the sling-bag from his shoulder, and deposited that as well. Moving over to help the lanky, rude youth, he bent down and put his weight against the crate, saying "a please would be nice, boy." The Student ignored him and leant his back against the side of the crate. The Labourer shook his head. The two of them heaved and the crate teetered up, paused for a second, and toppled over. The Student scooped his bag out of the snow and walked off, heading back towards the group. The Labourer paused to collect his things before following after, still shaking his head. The Elf bent down to take hold of Mund's cloak and caught Urkan's eye. The two slowly lifted the unconscious man out of the snow. The body lolled lifelessly into the hollow of his its makeshift stretcher, the skin white and icy. The Soldier jogged out of the snow. He walked up to the injured man and paused. Swinging his backpack off his shoulder, he rummaged around inside and pulled out a blanket. He flicked it over the dying man and asked Urkan if he could help. The Guard Captain nodded. "There's a small keg of black powder back there, near the far wheel. You see it?" The Soldier nodded. "Good. If you'll fetch it up for us, we'll take it back to Tents, keep it away from the Goblins." The Soldier grunted and jogged off to get the keg. The talk of gunpowder brought the Initiate back from his reverie. His head spun as the others rushed about, trying to take everything in at once. He found himself studying the edge of the borrowed sword in his arms. The steel blade had been carefully maintained, and the edge was still sharp. There were a few spots, visible only as uneven places in the edge, where nicks had been worked out with a whetstone. He found himself wondering if it was the clash of sword on sword that would make such a nick -- or was it the duller impact of blade on bone? Urkan and the Elf changed grip on the icy cloak. The Mercenary caught Urkan's eye, and nodded. Walking over to where the Halfling was carefully examining their tracks, already half-obscured by the falling snow. Slapping the demi-human on the back, he stabbed his thumb in the general direction of the fort. The Outrider nodded up at him and the two started to retrace the way back to the safety and warmth of the town. The Initiate rested the sword on his shoulder, swore under his breath, and followed on, trailed by the Student, Labourer, and Soldier. Visibility was down to almost five paces by now and the snow was still failing heavier and heavier. The air temperature dropped towards -10° then beyond. The wind shrieked along the pass, fanning the flames and at the same time sculpting the drifting snow into a mausoleum for the destroyed wagon. The travellers were glad to be leaving. The Halfling stopped abruptly, the Mercenary almost tripping over him in the darkness. The others, following, stumbled to a halt. Urkan elbowed the Mercenary out of the way. "What is it?" He grunted. The Halfling pointed. "There's over a dozen different footprints here, heading towards the town," he looked up at Urkan who stared down, brows knotted. "I think we're…behind…the…Goblins…" ---End Turn--- |
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