The Soren's frustration was clouding his mind. He stood up and lined his arrow up for a shot. His breathing became very different as he took his time to aim the shot very carefully. He stated in a calm tone, "Then get your bow back out." and with nothing more, he launched an arrow at whatever clear shot he could find through the brush.
He no longer cared so much about refraining from killing the savages. He often found ways to justify violence when it did happen. at least in his mind. He was hired to get these items back and it would be mighty difficult with a peaceful course of action. Furthermore, they posed a threat to the more civilized peoples that currently employed him. Plenty of reasons to release these savages back to the lifeline.
Death is no more than turning us over from time to eternity. Whether that eternity is damnation or salvation is determined in the time we have.
Ramir did get his bow back out and let Miro concentrate on his shooting big, scary gnomes. After all, it was an opportune moment to slip away in the night...
::Miroslaw readies his bow and fires down the hill across the distance, through the heavy foliage of the trees...and hears nothing as a result.
Ramir finds that while the Soren's attention is drawn to his intended target makes for a great time to slip away. Without the rather large being in tow, he is able to move much more quietly through the trees to a safe distance. Finding himself coming across once again one of the totems in the trees marking the edge of the camp's territory.::
My first thought was, he lied in every word, That hoary cripple, with malicious eye Askance to watch the workings of his lie On mine, and mouth scarce able to afford Suppression of the glee, that pursed and scored Its edge, at one more victim gained thereby.
Ramir can't help but observe the warning and really, didn't have a good feeling about their current course of action. He didn't understand Miroslaw - sure, they were hired to retrieve items and that may have required some force. But attacking a tribe that had already demonstrated their ability to coordinate an attack when there was JUST TWO OF THEM... that was stupid. Just plain stupid. This was suicide and Ramir was having a hard time deciding whether he wanted to stick around and see to the job, or cut his losses. Really, he'd learned long ago to not cling to silly notions that get you killed.
Still, neither of the two were diplomats. They had a limited skill set and Miro had chosen his path. Ramir had to wonder if he'd killed someone from the dark and stirred up the hornet's nest...
... which brought him a terrible realization. There were plenty of them. They weren't going to pin point where the shot had some from. The moment Miro hit someone, or they simply noticed an errant arrow, they were going to flood out of the camp and swarm the bloody woods, looking for who was attacking them, which anyone would assume would be a group. No one would consider it being one bloody mad Soren.
Yeah, this stank. Damned the fool.
Ramir did the smartest thing he might have done in a long time and quick as the night, he high tailed it away from the camp. He wasn't leaving altogether, but was retreating to something of a less conspicuous distance, if possible.
Miroslaw continued to send arrows down upon the savage gnomes. He still takes a bit of time to aim, but was focused more on rapid succession. The frustration continued to cloud his mind, and he didn't even realize Vandal was abandoning him to face these creatures alone.
Death is no more than turning us over from time to eternity. Whether that eternity is damnation or salvation is determined in the time we have.
::Miroslaw stands firm and continues to rain arrows down upon the encampment below. At some point that is a great outcry in a language he does not recognize and hurried movement headed his general direction.
Ramir is able to get as far away as he wishes but is near enough to hear the cries and the sound of several things moving quickly through the trees and brush in the direction of the hill he had left the Soren on.::
My first thought was, he lied in every word, That hoary cripple, with malicious eye Askance to watch the workings of his lie On mine, and mouth scarce able to afford Suppression of the glee, that pursed and scored Its edge, at one more victim gained thereby.
Ramir was now thoroughly convinced that Miroslaw had a death wish. His tactics were sloppy, his reasoning was flawed and unless he intended to storm the entire lot on his own, he wasn't getting the job done. It simply wasn't possible, even if they both rallied their efforts. Ramir at least decided that he'd write the Soren off as a lost cause and instead, stole closer to the camp, all the while careful to avoid Miro's commotion.
Ramir wasn't convinced there would be an opportunity to steal in and steal the goods. The camp was open and whilst that made for an easy approach, it meant he had no cover. He was no thief and quite quickly, this was beginning to look like a fool's errand.
He bode his time, in case anything struck him as a viable opportunity to make his way into camp and nab at least the idol. Failing that, he had no other choice but to take his leave and dismiss Miro's 'heroism'.
The outcry was enough to knock a bit of sense into Miroslaw's thick Soren skull. This was probably not the best idea. This was heightened when he looked over his shoulder to see he stood alone atop the hill. Vandal had dipped out.
He rained down a few more arrows and decided it was time to relocate. Hopefully, under the cover of darkness, a giant may be able to hide. He turned and sprinted off in a direction that may bring a tree to hide behind, a really big boulder, or something.
Death is no more than turning us over from time to eternity. Whether that eternity is damnation or salvation is determined in the time we have.
::The gnomes spread out like a fan as they left their camp, screaming for blood the entire way.
There were indeed plenty of trees and rocks for Miroslaw to try and hide behind. There were alos plenty of small branches to break, dry leaves to shuffle through and twigs to snap as he raced for cover.
Ramir can hear, more than see a large number of those at the camp moving quickly and loudly away from it. Were he to still wish to try and slip in, he would be hard pressed to find a better time.::
My first thought was, he lied in every word, That hoary cripple, with malicious eye Askance to watch the workings of his lie On mine, and mouth scarce able to afford Suppression of the glee, that pursed and scored Its edge, at one more victim gained thereby.
"Flarb it, this is just going to be the end of me. I bloody well know it."
This was a do or die moment, or maybe a do AND die moment for Vandal... but then he'd spent much of his life with that approach and seen some success because of it. Of course, Gray had done his best to knock some sense into his skull and damn it, some it had stuck.
Not that Gray wasn't daring - but he was sneakier. Vandal had to rely on his speed and silent (somewhat) movement to scurry into the camp. Being sure to flank the route the enemy were taking, he crept between what looked like two reasonably close huts and paused there, taking another look at his surroundings. He needed to snatch the idol but also, was looking for any shelter that looked important enough to house the other items they sought. Of course, such a shelter probably housed a pack of gnomish war dogs, also knows as guinea hogs.
Miroslaw contemplated climbing a tree, but his fear got the best of him. He never liked his feet off the ground for extended periods of time. Soren were never meant to leave the ground. Probably why they are so tall, so they have less reasons to do so.
Instead, he ran to the best hiding place he could spot. He waited, arrow notched, to see the gnomes come over the hill. Perhaps he could get off a few better aimed shots before they would be able to figure out where he was. Dwindle their numbers to a more manageable size.
He was quite angry at himself for acting so rashly. It was not usually his way. Still, he felt that if Vandal had stayed to help, they could have taken these gnomes. Alone, he was not so certain.
Death is no more than turning us over from time to eternity. Whether that eternity is damnation or salvation is determined in the time we have.
::Miroslaw finds a rather larger rock to hide behind as he readies his bow. As he waits, three small figures can be seen moving quickly through the trees. One to either side and one directly ahead.
Ramir is able to slip into the camp as most of the former occupants are now off chasing after the mad archer. There is still movement in camp from those few left behind. The occasional words are spoken, hushed but urgent and with tinges of both sadness and anger. Should he peek around the corner of the hut he is currently hiding behind, he sees a couple small forms huddled around the still body of an elderly gnome laying on the ground with a soren sized arrow sticking out of it.
Further examination of the camp would show one hut that seems to stand out as being slightly larger and covered with better pelts. He can also see the Idol on its pedestal near the fire. Being closer to it now he can see that it appears to be a serpent of some kind, coiled in slumber and made of brass.::
My first thought was, he lied in every word, That hoary cripple, with malicious eye Askance to watch the workings of his lie On mine, and mouth scarce able to afford Suppression of the glee, that pursed and scored Its edge, at one more victim gained thereby.
This was not going well. The damned Soren had killed an old gnome, something that was simply callous and unnecessary. Ramir was in a real bind now as well, he didn't have the means to help in the slightest and whilst part of him wanted to offer his condolences, it would only lead to his being knee deep in flarb dung.
Still, stealing away with their treasured items was only going to stir up a war band which would head right back to the ruins, no doubt about it. This was all becoming quite the mess and he just wasn't certain of just what he should do. His knuckles whitened as he clenched his fists at the ground, truly lost as to what his best course of action was. The pirate in him told him to take the plunder, take the coin and get drunk.
His mentor would act differently. And that was an issue. Grayell didn't accept Ramir to simply teach him out to fight. Ramir had to earn the privilege. And whilst honour was all noble and wonderful, sometimes it meant that you had to do something that seemed incredibly stupid. Of course, they should have done this in the first place. He had no skill in smooth talking and now, the enemy were riled. This could get him killed.
Cursing having grown a conscience, Ramir straightened up and stepped into the light of the campfire, his hands open and extended to show he meant no harm. He had no blasted idea what to say.
"Excuse me, but I think this has all gotten a bit out of hand. I'd like to talk..."
Yeah, that was not going to make a whole lot of sense....
Miroslaw is relieved when only three of the savages come over the hill. Three pint sized opponents shouldn't be too much trouble. He figured, since he has already started, he may as well continue. After all, he had a job to finish. He was still certain he was not going to be getting the items while these folk remained ready to stop him. This was made even more certain when Vandal tucked tail.
He quickly fires off two more arrows at the left gnome. He remained as silent as he could atop the rock, but he was never very good at such a thing. He hoped the shadows would be enough to keep the gnomes guessing about his whereabouts for a couple more shots. He would continue firing until they were nearing him and then resort to close range combat.
Last Edit: May 22, 2014 17:40:10 GMT -5 by Miroslaw
Death is no more than turning us over from time to eternity. Whether that eternity is damnation or salvation is determined in the time we have.
::The arrows find their mark and the gnome drops to the ground. The other two let out a cry and the rushing movement you hear arround you in the woods begins to converge on your location.
Miroslaw will find that a large Soren with no idea of how to hide is much easier to spot then small gnomes practiced at going about unnoticed.
You see something long fly towards you from the gnome on the right and it hits you hard in the side like a crossbow bolt. The one in the center charges straight towards you, leaping in the air at the last minute with an axe raised...
Ramir emerges from his hiding place to gasps and frightened stares. the few stragglers left behind in the mad rush to find the hidden assassin reach for anything the remotely looks like a weapon and brandish it towards the landlocked sailor. They make threatening motions and bark at you in their language, but its obvious the few know how to defend themselves. One remains onmoving as she craddles the head of the elderly gnome that had been struck and is sobbing.
Stepping through those few gathered is an older gnome with a headdress made using the bits of brass seen in thier other work.::
"Talk?"
::He gestures angrily at the fallen gnome.::
"Humans always 'talk' strange."
::Despite his angry tones, he does not make any signals yet to have you cut down.::
My first thought was, he lied in every word, That hoary cripple, with malicious eye Askance to watch the workings of his lie On mine, and mouth scarce able to afford Suppression of the glee, that pursed and scored Its edge, at one more victim gained thereby.