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Post by Renoir on Jun 17, 2015 10:10:48 GMT -6
The sun hung low in the sky, casting a soft orange hue across the landscape. Since the sun was high in the sky in Laus, Renoir had been following them.
These men seemed suspicious to him. He had kept his distance-- rooftops, trees, crowds of people. He had his cloak on, hood pulled of his head, his bow wrapped around him. He was very apparently not on a civilian errand, but most people had stayed away from him. The men in the caravan hadn't paid him any attention... When they had, he blended well into the crowds. But now that they were in the open, he had to be a little more careful. The open road, while populated, wasn't as dense as the city's people. If he was too obvious, he could get himself killed. It would take perfect timing and perfect hiding to keep pace with these men.
Renoir had started following them when he noticed suspicious activity coming from the caravan itself at their most recent checkpoint. He had been minding his own business when he was on person errands in Laus, but as this brutish looking caravan passed with more men guarding it than were typically necessary, he kept his eyes on it. At the Laus border checkpoint, the men refused to let the guards check the caravan. Some inaudible words had been exchanged, and then the caravan hurried on, as if it were being followed. Renoir knew better, so he abandoned his personal day and had followed suit.
That was hours ago. He had silently tailed them for a good half a day now, and these men were well outside of recognized Lycian territory. Sure, they were still in the country, but they were quickly approaching the national border to the east side. Renoir was both skeptical and scared. There was only one town between them and the border, and it had long since been abandoned... But it looked like that's where they were heading.
From his position high in the tree branches, Renoir stared at them as they traveled down the road. They couldn't see him, surely-- his cloak blended with the trees, and he was high enough up that it wouldn't have mattered anyway. But he had been right. The caravan approached the old, worn gates and went inside without any hesitation. Renoir jumped down, sprinting towards the gate, stopping just short of it once he had come far enough. He tried to listen, but couldn't catch any sound from the other side.
Knowing he couldn't just waltz in if this was some illegal operation, Renoir scaled the left wall, which had been overgrown with some vines. Once atop the wall, he leaped to the roof of the nearest building, landing with a quiet thud. He walked along quickly and silently until he reached the edge of the overhang that gave view to the central plaza. Two caravans?
Renoir knelt down on one knee, his hood still covering most of his face. He was out of sight. Perhaps two hundred meters away, he guessed. Maybe a bit further. To see him, they would have to be looking for him, and since he knew they weren't he assumed he was safe. Silently he watched as the men from both caravans began talking to each other, and then one of them pulled back the tarp of his caravan.
Renoir gasped, then closed his mouth to avoid making any more noise. His eyes were wide with fear. Inside, there were bound and gagged girls no older than 18 all crowded inside. He couldn't quite tell how many, but he knew it was not a good sign. What these women were going to be used for, he could only guess. But he wasn't about to let them be toyed with like this. He'd seen something like this before, and it didn't end well...
The young archer slowly removed the bow from his back and drew and arrow. He was silent. He notched it and got lower, turning the bow horizontally for a better view. He didn't pull the string back yet. He simply waited, waited, and waited... Minutes that felt like hours passed before the second caravan was opened to reveal the same thing. Damn it, Renoir thought. There were a total of 8 men-- about 6 of them armed, the only ones without arms being the caravan drivers themselves. He weighed his odds. If he killed one of them, he would have to move. A sniper's position was always given away after the first shot. They would likely disperse after he made his first shot and scour the town for him. He would be on the run. He didn't have an advantage at all in close quarters situations. One of them had a bow... That, he could handle. But the swords, axes? He wasn't so sure.
But he knew better. He didn't have time to worry, he only had time to act. He was, after all, a man of action. He pulled the arrow back with careful sincerity. He had to intend to kill in order to kill. He aimed to bow up, above the head of the axe-wielding man he intended to kill to account for the drop as the arrow would fly. The wind wasn't heavy, so that should be enough. He breathed in, holding his breath to steady his aim. This shot was cake. He'd done it a million times.
The arrow flew loose like a hungry dog from a cage, but with greater precision. Fast and powerful, it charged across the distance between Renoir and his target, with enough speed and quietness that it didn't alert the men until it had made contact. The only problem was that the arrow had lodged itself in the man's arm, not his head. He dropped his axe-- Renoir had gotten the man's weapon arm, but hadn't killed him. Sh*t, he thought. Quickly, he restrung his bow around his back and leaped onto the next rooftop, running from top to top as quietly as he could. He looked over the edge again and saw the two unguarded caravans. The men had already dispersed... But he could see the blood trail he had created. He could track the man he'd shot, but this was a dangerous game. It was eight versus one. He liked those odds.
"Let the games begin," Renoir spoke quietly to himself, full of amusement. He leaped onto the next rooftop.
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Post by Euphemious on Jun 17, 2015 10:48:44 GMT -6
Euphemious was a knight and as such he had certain duties he owed to the public. A women, a old women at that, had come to him and spoke about her daughter going missing. It was one of may tales that spread around Bern at this time. The nation was in chaos and banditry ran wild. It was common for young girl to disappear in the night only to be found dead in the morning. With the looming threat of attack and the constant threat of war many of the guards had thrown the young girl off as being dead. Instead of searching and trying to give chase to any leads they simply up security in the streets to prevent it from happening again. It was all they could do. They could not spare the men. Euphemious however was not a guard. He was a Sargent in the Rebellion Army. This put him in a even more precarious position than most of the guards. He needed to train men and attend meetings. He was not a common foot soldier, but a officer. However Euphemious was a knight and by the knights code he could not ignore this. As important as Euphemious position was he was also not needed. One of his low officers could take his position and over see the troops and his men could continue on there normal patrols. He could be spared for a couple of days and the army would run just fine. Thus Euphemious called upon his right to take a leave. It was normally used by soldiers to check up on there families and there home villages after a long time of being away, but the knight instead used it to look for this old women's poor daughter. It was the least he could do. Knights like the lords above them, swore a social contract to the civilians. Euphemious may not be a official knight under a lord, but he followed the code and swore himself to the rebellion. His chivalry would not only set a example for the other knights, but also draw others to there cause. With both his honor and his prime directive of his army in perfect alinement Euphemious set off to follow the clues.
After questioning the grandmother, or was it the mother, Euphemious had forgotten, the knight had picked up some strange clues. Following the clues he headed east where he ran into another village that was missing young girls. The very thought frighten him as he began to think that this was connected. Naturally Euphemious followed his trail and once again he came to another village missing young women. At this point his suspicions were confirmed. There was a wagon moving across Bern and where it went young ladies would vanish. He was not sure if this wagon was the cause, but he knew it was connected some how. Following the trail of the wagon Euphemious ended up crossing the boarder. If Bern was fully united this would have caused him a problem, but with it fractured and the rebellion holding no legal territory Euphemious actions were as free as the birds. The knight followed the trail and pressed on. His search for the wagon lead him to a small village that seemed abandoned. He was unsure if the wagon was even still here or that if it even stopped in this place, but he was sure going to investigate it. In the city back before this one Euphemious had written a letter to his commanding officers and sent it back to the fort. If he perished here he knew somebody else would take up the search eventually and the knight pressed on to investigate.
Euphemious was no thief nor was he some kind of spy. He was a man locked in heavy armor holding a spear. Stealth was not his forte and he had no intentions of engaging in such activities. The knight simply walked into the town. He kept his eyes on the windows and doors and looked for a exit if he needed one. If he found to many people for him to handle Euphemious could easily push his way into a home and use the door way as a funnel.
"Help", as sound rang in the air as Euphemious turned a corner. He saw two carriages sitting in the middle of the road. One of them he assumed was the one he was following. To his surprise however there was blood on the ground and the foot prints of men moving all about.
"What in the world is going on here", spoke the knight as he heard the shouting of men. It seemed that somebody else was here other than whoever had these carriages. The blood spoke of a altercation. The knight began to walk toward the carriages hoping to investigate the blood. As he approached he heard the cries for help and the soft sobbing of what he could only assume was a young girl. Now completely sure that this was the location he was looking for Euphemious rushed over to the caravan and began to investigate. To his horror he found many young girls locked inside a cage in the back of the wagon.
"who are you", asked a young girl as the dark skinned knight made his presence known. The girls looked at him with fear in there eyes and the last bits of hope. Euphemious could not help but feel there sadness as he looked at the eyes of multiple young terrified girls.
"I am the Black Knight", spoke Euphemious as he tighten his the straps on his helmet. "And I am going to get you out of here", he spoke as he pulled back on his guan dao. The knight was going to cut open the lock, but suddenly the sound of foot steps appeared behind him.
"Hey who are you", spoke one of the dirty slavers as he looked at the knight. Euphemious turned to look at the man. His eyes filled with murder and his guan dao in his right hand.
"The grim reaper", he spoke as he rushed forward to engage the man.
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Post by Renoir on Jun 17, 2015 11:07:19 GMT -6
After deciding he had likely come far enough to be considered safe, Renoir set up on the edge of the rooftop he had come to. His last position was far enough away that the men probably had lost track of them, if they'd tracked him to begin with. He wasn't sure. He didn't hear any immediate noise in his immediate radius, but he did hear something disheartening in the distance, back towards the town square. He peered cautiously over the edge of the building and saw a man in a massive set of armor near the carriage. Was he their real strength? Would Renoir have to deal with that? He wasn't sure he could. Most types of fighters he could handle on his own, given enough preparation and analysis, but... Brute strength and armor was beyond him. He gulped.
His fear was relieved, however, when he saw the man engage in combat with one of the caravan heads. Okay, that made seven. And one severely wounded. Six left, two unarmed. Four men still prowled, armed, and unhurt. One man could be tracked, and was likely unarmed, unless he could wield his axe in the other hand. One had a bow. These were numbers he could handle. Renoir lowered his hood, the wind catching his hair as he got a breath of fresh air and pulled his bow back out. He looked around the ground from the rooftop on which he was perched. He could see the blood, but it was going in the far eastern direction, away from the middle, where this mysterious knight was. Whatever his case, the enemy of his enemy was Renoir's friend. He would assume, for now, that the knight was on his side.
Analytical processes hard at work, Renoir weighed his options. Four armed and unhurt men. Two unarmed men, probably sought shelter amongst those with arms. Injured man probably did the same-- no sense in him traveling off on his own. If these men were smart, the blood trail was a trap. If they were together, at all, they'd be there with him because he was easy to track. If they weren't smart, though... They would've left him to rot. And he would be panicking. Renoir had an idea. He'd be panicking. He'd probably be loud, too. The man drew a wide smile across his face and leaped to the next rooftop, following the trail of blood. If there was sound, he would pursue his hunt. If there was no sound, he would reassess.
The man drew near an alley where the blood trail seemed to end. He peered over the edge of the building, but saw no one. The blood was pooled in that alley, but... There was no body. Renoir narrowed his eyes. He was confused. He had no means to gauge their tactical prowess, but some slavers couldn't pull off something too complicated, he didn't think. The archer stood up and looked around. The rooftops were all clear. But where was...
No. The hatch beside him opened up, and the injured man flew through it. A roof hatch? Renoir jumped back. He had gone into the building! Without hesitation, Renoir armed and aimed his bow at the man's head, who was a mere 15 feet away from him. This was too close quarters for his liking, but it ensured the accuracy of his hit if he released it soon enough. The moment was slow, agonizing. Through cold, narrowed eyes, Renoir released his shot and it pinned the man between the eyes, effectively finishing him off before he could tackle Renoir. Sighing, he strung the bow across his back again and searched the man.
Looking him over, Renoir realized that these were probably common underground merchants. The man's muscular tone was not great-- they weren't soldiers. His pockets were not light-- they were sellers of something. Renoir reached into the man's pocket and pulled out an envelope with a strange chain symbol etched upon it. He stuffed it in his pocket: he had no time to investigate now. He could hear footsteps in the distance. They were in the alley below. Carefully looking over, Renoir watched them go into the building. He had to move, and he had to do so fast.
He leaped from the rooftop onto another, then hid behind a wooden rooftop garden and waited. If they came up the hatch, he could take another one, maybe a couple, out. The voices had numbered two and a minimum-- there could be more if the others had stayed silent. Renoir waited, unmoving.
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Post by Euphemious on Jun 17, 2015 11:30:48 GMT -6
As Euphemious stuck out at the man the slaver blocked the blow with a shield. The kngiht had not been paying attention to his weapon before, but he noticed the man was wielding a unusual set up. As shield and a axe. It was a effective combination, but it spoke miles about the man's skill in battle. He was not some simple mook who did not know how to fight. He understood combat enough to know that a axe alone is poor at defense and as a result he switched to using a small shield along with it. At first Euphemious thought he might be a hero which sent off some alarm bells in his head. However that all changed when the man made his next move. Instead of trying to use the axe head as a hook and gain ground against the kngiht the axe fighter instead jumped backwards to get some space. This movement told Euphemious a lot about him. Fist it told him that he intimidated the man. Any fighter with some balls would have charged in in and attempt to strike Euphemious with his axe. However this man moved to retreat. Either Euphemious armor made him wary or he was trying to wait for his allies to return. Either way it told the knight that he had the advantage in the fight.
"You fight beyond your skill level", spoke Euphemious. The words of the knight confused the man, but Euphemious next assault left him little opportunity to think on it. Once again Euphemious attacked with his mighty Guan Dao. However this time he was far more calmer than the first. Instead of simply going for the slaying slash across his chest Euphemious swung his regal blade toward the man's right leg. Naturally he pulled it back and stepped forward in a attempt to counter the knight. As he moved forward he held his axe in the air. A common mistake for fighters, thought the knight. The move was effective as it gave you the ability to strike with power as soon as you got in range, but it had one major weakness.
As the man charge forward Euphemious pulled back on the shaft of his Guan Dao. The blade may not be facing toward his target, but he had no intentions of cutting his target. Well at least not yet. As Euphemious pulled back on his weapon he took a step back with his right leg. The step speed up his movement, but lowered his attack range. However the knight did something the fighter did not expect. the blade of his weapon entered into the hooking section of the axe. It was the position where the axe head joined its wooden shaft. The force of the swing ripped the weapon out of his opponent hand and sent it flying off into the distance. The fighter however did not have the time to worry about his blade. The knight then stepped forward once again with his right leg and bringing his mighty guan dao with him. The blade cut into the man's chest like a hot knife through butter. Blood filled the streets as the knight sent one of the slavers to the fiery pits of hell.
"John", shouted a voice as two more men joined the fight. They both were swordsmen. This was going to make fighting them a whole lot easier. The knight turned and as he moved a throwing knife bounced off his armor. It was then that he gained a good look at the second of his opponent. While the first one used your standard longsword and Euphemious could only guess that he was a mercenary. The second one used a short knife and from what he could tell it was a mail breaker. The man was probably a theif, but his weapon of choice could prove fatal against the knight if he let him stab into the weak portions of his armor. It was going to be a two on one fight. Both of them were faster than him, but only one of them had a effective weapon. The first swordsmen stood a chance of killing the knight, but not as greatly as the second. Euphemious was going to have to be careful for these two, though he wondered how many of them where there.
"This might prove to be troublesome", spoke the knight as he held his spear in his right hand and pulled his shield off his chest.
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Post by Renoir on Jun 17, 2015 11:50:18 GMT -6
Renoir waited, his deep blue eyes pierced through the hatched wood of the rooftop garden. By his estimation, there were eight men total, one of whom was being dealt with by the night, which left seven, two of which were unarmed, which left five, one of which was dead. Four. Four left? Was that right? Renoir gritted his teeth. He watched the rooftop hatch carefully as it moved and creaked, eventually opening. Two men jumped from the hatch. The two unarmed ones? Are you kidding me, Renoir thought to himself as a smile drew across his face. And they were close together. Easy picking. He could take this shot with his eyes closed.
He wondered why the two men with no weapons would've come to investigate a potentially dangerous situation. That told him that, very likely, they weren't smart. Renoir drew his bow again silently, pulling not one, but two, arrows from his quiver. His excited grin was hard to hide. He didn't necessarily enjoy killing for killing's sake, but he certainly enjoyed being a hunter. That's what he was-- a once-born dog of the military, a hunter, and now, a stalker. He notched two arrows, one right below the other, and pulled the bowstring taut as it could go. He stood calmly, without worry, and called to the men across the rooftop adjacent to him. If they knew he was there, they would try to run. That would make his kill more interesting, more fun. He aimed the bow, vertically, putting his body out facing the street, so that his head was turned and his side was facing the men. A proper stance. Good form. Easy wind. Easy hit. Fifteen meters, max. Likely closer to ten. Two arrows, two men. Could he pin them?
"Gentlemen," he called, as if he were a courtesan calling for money. "Au revoir." The men looked at him immediately, eyes wide upon, yelled, and ran. Sh*t, he thought as he released the bowstring, I wish they hadn't yelled. He sighed as the arrows flew forth from his bow.
The men had turned to run, but like Renoir had predicted, they didn't split off. One arrow pierced the left man through his back shoulder blade and out his front, falling beside him. A clean, perfect hit. That man hit the ground, writhing in pain. The other arrow hit the right man through the heart, silencing him immediately. The arrow didn't make it cleanly through his body. A messier kill, but at least it was a kill and not a wound. Sighing again, Renoir calmly walked over, hopped to the adject rooftop, and knelt down beside the man he'd hit. He would bleed out in mere minutes.
"Tell me exactly what's going on," Renoir said calmly, the honey-drip in his voice ever present. "And perhaps I'll bandage you up." The man spit in his face. Renoir, disgusted, wiped it off and onto his shirt. Sighing a third time, this time heavily, he pulled part of the cloth away from the man's sleeve. The man didn't struggle-- Renoir assumed he knew he was dead. The man spoke to Renoir, which surprised him.
"I ain't tellin' ya nothin'. We're just hired arms making a transport. If I told ya what was goin' on, they'd kill me, probably faster than you could." He looked away, and said nothing more. Renoir pulled a small knife from his pocket and slit the man's throat, the expression on his unamused face completely unchanged.
"Fine," Renoir said, standing, wiping some of the blood away from him. "I'll figure it out myself."
He gave himself a minute to peer over the edge of the building and saw the town square. The knight was engaged in combat with two new men-- he hadn't noticed that before. The initial combatant was dead on the ground. "Wow," Renoir breathed, smiling. He had an ally after all. But he knew that somewhere, the caravan head with the bow was setting up...
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Post by Euphemious on Jun 17, 2015 12:22:18 GMT -6
Two opponents and one knight. This was the worse situation Euphemious could get in. Knights were the king of the battlefield. Archers might try to claim it, riders might try to claim it, and even mages might argue for the position, but that spot rightfully belonged to the Knight. Hard to kill even from horseback and just as fearsome at delivering out blows. The defense of a castle and the force of a siege weapon that was the motto of a true knight. However like a castle the knight was weak to certain blows. Armorslayers being one of them along with hammers and heavy spears. However that was not the only weakness given to those who wore the steel. The knights greatest weakness was not magic as some would think, but rather numbers. Numbers defeated castles and in the same light it defeats knights. It did not matter how thick Euphemious armor was if his enemy can grab his limbs and pull his helmet off. As a recruit he was always taught never to let his enemy get his back as it was the quickest way to death. In this situation that statement came clearer and clearer. The thief moved to get to the back of the knight and the swordsmen moved to keep Euphemious attention. However Euphemious was no fool. As the duo moved to take him out Euphemious moved to prevent it. As they stepped forward he stepped back and soon they discovered that his back was protected by the presence of the wagon.
"#$% knight", spoke the swordsmen as he rushed forward. He knew that there was almost no way he was going to make Euphemious move away from the carriage without first engaging him. The knight would not give his back so easily. What he did not know however was that Euphemious was prepared for this. As he rushed forward with his blade ready Euhemious suddenly shot forward with his shield. The action caught both the swordsmen and the thief off guard as they never seen a armored man move so fast. This speed was the result of Euphemious long year of intense training. All the miles he ran while in his armor and the hills he marched up to improve his endurance. The kngiht knew he could not win this battle if he relied only on his defense. A castle that only defense was doomed against a split force. However if the assaulted there enemy they could stop there plans before they brought them to bare.
With a great force Euhemious shield smashed into the man's sword. The weight and force behind Euphemious charge sent the man' blade back and caused the flat of the sword to slam into his chest. With a great blow Euphemious had knocked the man onto the ground and placed him in a good position for a kill shot. The thief understood this and as Euphemious moved he motioned to take the knights back. It was the perfect opportunity. Sure his friend would die, but he would at least take the knight with him. However knew this as well and he knew the thief could not pass up the opportunity. As the thief knew about the weakness in Knights armor so did Euphemious. he knew where the thief was going to attack and he knew when. Like a archer shooting a bird out the sky Euphemious precicted the moved of the man before he even moved. With a quick pull back of his spear Euphemious jolted his pole arm back behind him. The pommel of his guandao rushed backwards like the point of his spear. The rounded tip stuck the man in the center of his stomach causing him to fall to the ground in pain. As Euphemious struck the thief the other swordsmen rolled away and pulled himself to safety.
Quickly Eupemious turned and stabbed forward with his Guandao. The thief attempted to recover and dodge, but the stab was to fast for him to react to. Instead of holing the spear back toward the middle like Euphtemious normally did he held it closer to the blade. That way his strike would be faster, but as a result he would have much lesser force and reach. However in this situation it did not matter as the thief wore no armor. The regal blade pierced his flesh and cut open his rib cage. The blow did not instantly kill, but the blood loss caused the man to black out from low blood pressure. It would not be long, but his death would soon come.
As the knight finished the thief the swordsmen rushed forward to strike. Euphemious did not have enough time to turn around and block the blow, but he could still twist his body. Turning his body quickly Euphemious allowed the blow to strike on his right shoulder. The armor there deflected the blade, but the energy still transferred through. Though it mattered little as Eupemious pulled through with his turn. As his shoulder moved down his right arm came across. With a fearsome assault the knight smashed his shield into the man's skull. The blunt force trama was enough to send him to the after life immediately and the two slavers were down.
"That was amazing sir knight", shouted a voice from the carriages. The sound of a young lady praising his combat skills made Euphemious blush a little. Though it was not visible because of his helmet and dark skin. For a moment there Euphemious forgot that they existed. His mind was so focus on taking out the slavers that he forgot about the potential slaves he was trying to defend.
"Right let me get you all out of there", spoke Euphemious as he moved over to the dead bodies. He began to check them to see if they had the key to the cells. If they did not then Euphemious was gong to have to open the locks the old fashion way. It would be much more messy and take some time, but he was sure he could cut throuhg it with his guan doa. Well he guessed he could at least.
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Post by Renoir on Jun 17, 2015 12:37:30 GMT -6
Kneeling down on one knee, arm laid across his resting thigh, Renoir watched with giddy pleasure as the knight took on the two men. Knowing he could do very little to help at all, Renoir simply stayed put, watching the match go on. It seemed that the knight was more than enough a match for the two weak men he had been facing. As he finished them off, Renoir stood and folded his arms. "Well well," he said, impressed. "Glad he's on my side."
The sun hung low in the distance. There were still two men left, and one with a bow. Renoir watched carefully... It looked like the knight was preparing to free the girls in the caravan. That was a good sign. Scanning the horizon through his hawklike eyes, Renoir looked for the archer. He would be up high, perched somewhere... Looking, feeling... Ah yes, Renoir thought with a smile. He saw him. Six rooftops over, to the west, bow aimed at the caravan. Renoir didn't act immediately. He remained, arms crossed as the wind brushed across his figure. He simply studied the man. His form was good, and his bow was tall. His position was decent, but poor if he needed to escape. From where this man was, the shot would've been about two hundred seventy five meters, maybe two hundred eighty, by Renoir's estimation. However, the shot distance between this archer and Renoir was likely a mere fifty meters. The white-haired archer smiled, taking his bow again from his back and notching an arrow. The enemy archer looked to be appraising his shot... He had spent minutes getting the right one and hadn't fired yet. Was he waiting for something? Or did he know better than to loose an arrow towards the knight with his thick armor?
No, Renoir thought, he would surely know better. If anything, his target would be the caravan itself. He would aim for the girls, more than likely. Arrow drawn back, pointed just inches in view above the man's head, Renoir prepared to fire. The arc of the arrow at this distance would likely pierce just at the man's temple, or perhaps slightly above. Not fearing this other man's shot, Renoir said a silent prayer for the man's life and let loose his arrow like a bolt of lightning in a heavy storm. It pierced the air, shattering the silence, quietly whistling across the short distance and into the man's skull, bringing him down... right as the man had let loose his own arrow. Renoir's eyes widened in fear, following its path as it closed the almost 300 meter distance. "No..." he breathed, leaping down the wall, scaling downwards from the roof to the ground. At that distance, if he was accurate, it could kill any one of the girls in the caravan. Sprinting towards the town square, Renoir watched the arrow come down towards the tarp over the caravan. This was reckless. He shouldn't have thrown himself out there like that, but he did. He was genuinely afraid.
With a fast-beating heart, Renoir watched the arrow connect and rip the tarp to pieces at the top. He didn't hear a scream. The arrow had either completely missed or had been a one-shot kill. That was unlikely. At that distance, a one shot kill was something even he struggled with... Especially for a target he couldn't see. Surely it had missed. His heart rate was up. He shouted towards the knight as the arrow tore down the canvas top on the caravan. "Check the girls, make sure they're alright!" His voice was the least steady it had ever been. He was worried sick, and hoped the knight wouldn't attack him as he approached.
Renoir pushed out thoughts of the last man remaining, who was no doubt hiding somewhere...
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Post by Euphemious on Jun 17, 2015 13:00:48 GMT -6
As the knight shuffled through the belongings of the dead men he found a ring of keys. He was not sure if it went to this carriage or the other one, but he was sure the key to it was somewhere. "Alright lets get this cage open", spoke Euphemious as he walked back over to the young girls. By the lack of people running out and trying to kill him Euphemious figured that most of the slavers were dead. Though he was sure they would have more than three. Maybe the others were busy somewhere else. For now he thought it would be safe to get these girls out of here and move back toward Bern. The next town was not that far away. If they could reach it they could hold up in there till reinforcements returned. Then the rebellion could escort them all back home. Though something in the knights gut told him that things were not over yet.
"Oh thanks the gods you and your friend showed up", spoke one women as Euphemious began to test the key on the door.
"Friend", spoke the knight in confusion as he twisted the key. It was not the one. He then shifted to another as the maiden began to speak again.
"You know that one with the bow. He shot a arrow", spoke the girl when suddenly a arrow ripped through the top of the carriage and landed in the back wall. It missed the girls completely, but gave everyone inside a jump scare.
"Calm down", spoke Euphemious as he turned the key. The knight was simply finishing his motion before he figured out where the arrow came from. He had no idea that the enemy had a archer. Even less about this so called friend. By the path of the arrow Euphemious could only guess that it came from behind them. "Take this key and free the other girls" ,spoke the knight as he pulled away from the cell and raised his shield. He was planning on hunting down the archer and putting Wutaka through his gut. However his logic kicked in and the knight realized how much of a bad idea that was. If he left these girls alone then other men could rush in and put them back in. He first needed to free them and get them out of the town. The archer could wait.
Suddenly a voice called out to Euphemious. There was a man in the distance and in his hand was a bow. Normally one would simply jump to concussions, but not the knight. The angle was too different. Whoever shot the arrow came from the direction he was staring. There was no way they could switch sides so fast. Still that did not mean he was not a enemy, but his words gave confusion. He seemed concern for the females, but yet the enemy seemed to aim for them. That alone was also confusing. They obviously wanted to keep the girls for selling purposes so why kill them. Was it the archer she talked about before shooting into the caravan. Mercy killing was standard in Bern. It would make sense for him to kill them if he thought he could not save them. At the same time the man coming toward him could be the archer that they spoke of. There could be more than one archer. When Euphemious got there there was no one guarding the caravans so somebody had to draw the guards away.
"Stop and state your purpose", spoke the knight as he pointed his guan dao toward the man. The young ladies began to exit the caravan behind him as the other women opened the cell of the other. "Are you the archer they speak of or are you a slaver. State your side, if not I will be forced to assume that you are with this lot and end your life here."
The knight stared on wit ha bit of concern. Even from here he could tell that the man's bow was quite large. He was not your average archer. Normal archers used bow's half that size. The only people he knew that used bows of that length were snipers and the prospect of fighting a sniper did not sit well with Euphemious. As he said before archers had a claim toward the title of king of the battlefield. That claim came in the form of sniper. A good sniper can shoot a arrow clean through the thickets of armors. Euphemious knew he would be in danger if the man pulled back on his bow, at the same time he knew that these maidens needed to be shielded from his as well. No matter what they needed to get out the cages. It was safer for them as a whole if they were outside. Even if some of them were killed by the brigands some of them would eventually escape. Some was better than none. The kngiht began to make calculations in his head. The probability of them all coming out of this alive was very slim if the sniper started to open fire. He was prepared to charge the man if he had to, but he hoped the man's words would prove advantageous to him instead of a foe.
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Post by Renoir on Jun 17, 2015 13:12:17 GMT -6
Huffing loudly, Renoir was stunned. At least for a moment he assumed he would be welcome immediately, but that didn't make sense as he thought about it. It would be inane for this knight to accept him right off. After all, none of his kills had been seen. He could have just as easily been an enemy, and Renoir recognized that. Slowing his pace to a walk, he set his bow slowly on the ground and raised his hands in surrender. His face was serious, calm, and so was his voice. "I mean none of you any harm, I assure you," Renoir began, a tinge of worry in his voice. "I'm from Bern. I tracked one of these caravans through Lycia because I was concerned about its purpose. It seems to me now that I made the correct assumption that these men were up to no good. For all intents and purposes, I am on your side." Renoir knelt before the knight to prove his authenticity.
"My name is Renoir Monet. I'm a citizen of Bern; you can check my identity later. Right now we need to be concerned with who we're dealing with. You said slavers-- I imagine that these men are slavers indeed, and they must be stopped at all costs. I have no military interest in this; it is merely personal. But by my count initially there were eight, and seven have been eliminated. I took care of four, and I watched you take care of three," Renoir went on, standing now, taking a look at his surroundings.
"That leaves one." Almost as soon as the words left Renoir's words, he felt the air leave his stomach. He looked down and saw drops of blood dripping down his stomach, a throwing knife piercing his gut. How had he not seen this? He should've been watching. He would've heard the man at an effective range... Oh no.
The man in the distance was fully clad in armor, carrying both a spear and a shield. He hadn't seen this man earlier. Where did he come from? He had counted eight before, but none of them armored. Did he... Had he packed his things in the caravan, changed when Renoir was changing positions? That had to have been it. Renoir fell to his knees, clutching at his stomach. The wound wasn't bad, but if he pulled the knife out he would need to be ready to bandage it immediately for fear of bleeding out. A small amount of blood trickled out the corner of his mouth. "Damn it," he breathed, his strength failing him. With what he had left he pulled his bow from his back quickly, notched an arrow, and hardly had time to aim before the armored man charged forward.
Renoir looked to the knight, hoping he would stay the path between the two and block. Renoir could get an arrow out, but only if he were alive to do so.
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Post by Euphemious on Jun 17, 2015 13:35:33 GMT -6
"D@#$ it", shouted Euphemious as he realized what was going on. This guy was the archer and he had just screwed him. The knight then turned toward the young girls who were frighten at the situation. "Get back in the carriages", he shouted. His words put a puzzled expression on the young girl's faces. One of them, the more mouthy type, spoke up to try and insult the knight, but he did not even give her a chance to speak. "Shut up it is not what you think. I need two of you to get into the front of the carriages and ride off to the village at full galloping speed", shouted the knight. The maidens finally understood what he was saying and two of them volunteered. As they began to ready themselves to ride off Euphemious rushed toward the man in armor.
It was unwise for Euphemious to sprint in armor, but in this situation it was necessary. If he walked the archer was good as dead and it was his fault that he got knifed in the first place. Euphemious was not sure if he could make it in time. The other heavy armored man was just as fast as he was and the two of them were closer than Euphemious was to the archer. I desperation Euhemious tossed his iron lance at the man. He did not expect it to hit or land close enough to do any possible damage, but the very action alone could buy him some time. Naturally the other man kept a eye on Euphemious. The moment he saw a projectile heading his way he immediately pulled up his shield to block, only to have it fall far short. However that was enough time for Euphemious to get close enough that attempting to kill the sniper was a bad idea.
As Euphemious closed the distance he swung his Guan Dao at the man. His shield had been reattached to his chest piece and as a result gave the knight a free hand to use on his bladed spear. With both hands Euphemmious struck at the man with all of his furry. To his surprise however the man blocked it with his massive shield. The knight had not seen such a thick tower shield. No that was not true. He had seen one, but that was a long time ago. His grandfather had one mounted on his wall. It was the shield he used back in his old military days. The fact that this man had a similar size shield and heavy armor told the knight something that he wish he had not known. "General", spoke the knight as the man stuck out at him. Euphemious had taken a few steps back to make some space between the two of them. His movement was adventitious as the man's spear swing missed. However it was soon followed by a powerful thrust. The knight however had enough time to pull his shield off his chest and block the incoming blow. The force behind it was far greater than he originally thought.
"Powerful", spoke Eupemious as he looked at the man's eyes through his helm. This was no ordinary opponent. "Why is someone as killed as you acting as guard for these scum, or are you the one leading these vermin", spoke Euphemious as he stalled to make time. The knight looked at the man's spear. He could not tell for sure what material it was made out of, but it did not have the same luster look Euphemious weapon had. At least he knew that his weaon was now stronger. If it came down to it he could use that to his advantage. Regal weapons were said to be unbreakable. Euphemious might have to put that legend to the test. His opponent's armor was thick.
Still the knight had to worry about the sniper as well. He was wounded, and badly. If he did not treat that wound soon it could become infected. Blows to the gut were always in danger of becoming septic. That is why Euphemious wore armor protecting that area. One wrong hit and your bowls could pour into your blood and it would be all down hill from there.
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Post by Renoir on Jun 17, 2015 13:43:59 GMT -6
The expression on Renoir's face grew wild and untamed. "Tch," he breathed, trying to take aim. The knight had blocked for him to buy him some time. With as much strength as he could muster, his vision fleeting, Renoir got up on one knee and turned his body sideways, aiming his bow to the best of his ability. His stomach was killing him. The moment dragged; it was quick and vicious and uncontrolled. His hands were shaky, his breathing erratic. He needed to tend his wound, but to do so meant they had to quickly dispatch this general.
As the cart began to drive off, the general realized what was going on and prepared to throw his spear at the wooden wheels in the back of one of them to stop it. This gave Renoir the chance he needed. As the general turned, he gave view of the mesh at his waist, one of the two best spots in heavy armor to get an arrow in. Armor and mail alike were both good at defending against the blunt and slashing power of swords and axes, but lances and arrows were a good match against it. Renoir smiled, the blood at his mouth having subsided for the time being. He let loose his arrow, flying straight and true, and it pinned straight into the general's waist. With a large yelp, he brought his arm back in before he could throw the spear. This gave the caravans time to get out of the town. Now it was just the three of them. The general, now with an arrow in his waist, had to be considerably weaker, Renoir thought.
The young man forced himself to stand, and steadied himself with a hand around his wound, keeping the knife in place where it was. He was running low on arrows. "Okay," Renoir spoke calmly to his new companion. "Let's finish this guy."
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Post by Euphemious on Jun 17, 2015 13:53:57 GMT -6
As the carriages began to ride away a smile crossed Euphemious face. It was hidden by his thick helmet, but it was still present. The knight however had let his guard down for a moment. This would prove to be a mistake. The general smashed him with his shield causing Euphemious to take a step back. In that moment he moved to toss a spear toward the wheel of the carriage. The very idea of it horrified Euphemious. The knight pressed forward, but by the time he would hit the man it would be to late. Then the sniper let loss a arrow and hit the general in a weak point in his armor. Perfect, thought Euphemious as the General took a step backwards and missed his opportunity.
"Now they are beyond your reach", spoke Euphemious toward the general. He knew the battle was far from over, but at the very least the young ladies would escape this day with there lives. Now it was just him, the archer, and the general. The archer rose up and spoke with valor. However his injury spoke something else. "No can do", spoke the knight. "You need to go and treat that wound. I understand that you are worried for my life and your own, but that wound can not stand. Fall back into one of the homes and bandage that up. After that you can rejoin the fight", spoke Euphemious as he charged forward. The knight did not wait for a answer. He was sure the general was not going to give them much time.
As Euphemious charged forward he placed his right hand on the handle of his shield and smashed into the General's towers shield with the full force of his body. The knight wanted to make the big man give ground. He was going to need to buy some time for the sniper to either take his advice and treat his wound or prepare a shot. Either way pressing the man seemed to be the wisest move at the moment.
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Post by Renoir on Jun 17, 2015 14:04:49 GMT -6
Renoir knew he didn't have time to decide, and he was taking more time than he knew he should allot himself. But he truly couldn't decide. Tactically, he knew it would be best to stay and fight-- they could win the battle faster that way. But practically, he knew if he retreated long, the knight could end up being in danger. Renoir wasn't sure at this point how skilled the knight was-- it was clear he could hold his own, but was he a match for the general? Was he on par? Or maybe he was actually better? There wasn't time to stay and find out.
"Hm, fine." Renoir said, exhausted. Gripping his side, he strung his bow over his bank and retreated a few buildings down into an old storefront. From the looks of things, an ancient general store. From the small sack next to his quiver, he took out a cloth bandage and some salve. His vulnerary sack was full, but it wouldn't be after this. As quickly as he could, he pulled the knife out of him and removed his tunic before the bleeding kicked in. He pulled his shirt up enough to spread salve in the wound. He let out a quiet yelp of pain through grit teeth as he applied the medicine. Nothing had ever stung worse. Once it was applied, he wrapped his torso in a cloth bandage and cut it with his teeth, tucking the loose end into the top of the wrap. He stored both back into his sack, wrapped the sack in his tunic, and laid it next to him. There was no sense in putting it back on, and his shirt covered his wound enough. Before leaving the store, Renoir noticed a set of stairs. Could he get a vantage point?
Without wasting any more time to mental debates, Renoir hobbled up the stairs as best he could. Once he was on the roof, he realized how good the spot was. He knelt down on one knee again, drew his bow, angled it horizontally, and notched an arrow. He had six left. He wouldn't need six.
His target was in motion. Heavily armored. In combat with an ally. One hundred meters. Partially wounded and winded. Weak spots at the neck and waist. Chance of success, Renoir deemed, 75%. He closed on eye to assess the situation, then closed the other. The general was locked in combat with his new ally. Smiling, Renoir removed the arrow from the bow's notch. He kissed it gently, spun it around in his fingers, and then without aiming again, notched it, prayed, and let it fly. Immediately after, he sent another. The first arrow would hit the helmet. Good. It would stun him, not hurt him. It would keep him in place. That's what he needed. It would give time for the knight to gain the upper hand. The second would hit his waist, next to the arrow already lodged therein.
The two arrows flew, two siblings, one chasing the other. The first arrow hit head on, the sound of ringing metal permeating the air, screeching across the stone and wooden buildings. The second missed completely as the general stopped moving, hitting just short of his feet.
Renoir sighed and headed back down the stairs as fast as his wounded body would carry him. He could only hope for the best.
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Post by Euphemious on Jun 17, 2015 14:23:43 GMT -6
The General was far stronger than he was. That point was made clear. As Eupemious pushed against the man the hulk of steel simply planted one of feet and began to push the knight back. With a great force he pushed Euphemious off him and struck out with his spear. The knight however had not stopped duel gripping his shield. As the blow came Euphemious took it head on with the center of his shield. The force was great, but his guard held strong. It was in that moment that the knight gave off a small chuckle. Both he and the general understood what that meant. If Euphemious could block his blow with his shield then the battle was almost over. A lance is a pure offensive weapon while a shield was a pure defensive weapon. The moment Euphemious blocked his blow the battle was already over. Well that was theoretically. The general struck out again and again, but every time Euphemious would beat back his lance blow with his shield. The knight however was not foolish enough to take every blow right down the center. That would put far to much strain on his shield. Instead he would turn as every attack came in causing the spear to deflect off the shield. At the rate they were going the general would tire out before Euphemious would. This was the knight's plan and the armored man knew it.
To Euphemious surprise the general took a step backwards an tossed his spear at the knight. The attack was futile. It did not matter if he was holding the spear or throwing it. He could not get past the knights defenses. However something about this attack worried the knight and he soon found the reason for it. As he looked over his shield he saw the General was attacking again. He had just thrown his spear so the knight was not sure what he was attacking with, but by instinct he moved to block again. This however would prove to be a bad idea. As the General's blows slammed onto the shield Euphemious was in for a big surprise. The force behind the blow was far greater than anything he had thrown at him before. The shield began to bend under the force. "What the hell", spoke the knight as he recovered from the attack. Euphemious knew what it felt like. He now knew what kind of weapon the general was using. When he threw his spear the man must have switched weapons. He was no longer attaching with a lance, bur rather with a axe.
The first blow caused the shield to rattle. The second blow caused the shield to crack. Then the General pulled back for his third blow. The knight shifted his shield to try and throw the edge alignment off, but the General saw it coming. He moved his body just right to give enough force to the blow. The strike caused the shield to break down the middle and toss Euphemious onto his bottom. "@#$$", shouted the knight as the general pulled back to strike again. This seemed as if it was going to be his victory when suddenly two arrows came from above. One of them slammed into the General's helm causing him to loss focus.
"Alright", spoke Euphemious as he rolled back onto his feet. The sniper came through. The knight then drew his spear from his back. Not the one made of iron , but his regal one, Euphemious' Gun Dao, The Black Dragon. With a beastly roar Euphemious rushed forward and slashed his blade out at the general. The regal metal cut at the armor and left mark's on the steel. The knight did not expect to piece with that slash, but rather to send a message.
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Post by Renoir on Jun 17, 2015 14:36:51 GMT -6
Breathing heavily, Renoir stood in the door frame of the shop, leaning his weight against it. This battle was not going as smoothly as he might've expected. This worried the young man. He was almost down for the count-- not dead, but soon he would be out of arrows, and beyond that, he could only carry himself so far before his wound caused him to collapse. After all, it wasn't sewn together-- it was merely bound, a temporary solution that prevent dirt and grime, with salve that would prevent infection and accelerate healing. These expectations only held, though, if Renoir was still and resting. He was not. He couldn't afford to be. Not at a time like this.
As the general drew an axe, Renoir watched in horror as the knight's shield broke. They were running out of options. With no hope of escape, Renoir had to think of something. Fast. He was a hunter, a stalker, a killer. Just because the general had armor shouldn't mean that...
That's it. It had weak spots. Panting heavily, Renoir climbed back up the stairs, opened the hatch, and went back out onto the roof. He tried to jump to the next rooftop, but his wound made it hard, and he only made it halfway, having to pull himself up on the roof with all his might. He did the same thing two more times, and when he thought he couldn't move another muscle, he realized he was where he needed to be. He had effectively positioned himself behind the general. The general had no idea.
Smiling through the pain, Renoir loaded his bow with diligence once more. One of his last four arrows grazed gently the edge of the notch, more slowly this time, and with careful precision. He had one shot before his position was given away. One shot before he was out of options. Probably, one shot before he would pass out. This was it. This was his test. He leaned out of his shot, standing firm, his back straight and his arm outstretched. His right arm pulled the string taut, arrow in hand. He closed the eye furthest from the bow to focus on his target. The back of the mesh on the general's neck. If this shot hit, it would kill him. If it missed, his position would be given away, and he might not have the strength to run anymore. If he passed out, he would be defenseless, at the mercy of the general and relying on the knight to carry the battle through.
Waiting until his comrade charged with his spear, Renoir finally released his arrow. Faster and with more fury than any of his others, and with perfect internal stillness, Renoir believed in his skill and in his bow as he watched the arrow fly towards the general, hoping this shot would be his last. If this arrow struck, the battle was over.
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