Den of Thieves

Seeing the path to Ingleside ahead, Jasmine steers the leafy vessel towards the bank.

Knowing their time together is at an end Carr offers, “if you ever need my services in the future. Or you’re just in the area, I’ll always welcome your company.”

“You’re awfully sweet Carr,” She replies as the leaf hits the bank, “I’m certain, if I’m in the area I can at least make the effort to say hello.”

With a wide smile Carr gathers his things, “thank you Jasmine. For allowing me to get to know a being as wonderful and beautiful as you.”

She smiles from the compliment, “and thank you for showing me that males aren’t all bad.” Curious to how her own boy has grown up she says, “tell your mother that I was, am sorry for getting you involved.”

Shrugging Carr hops out of the leaf. “I’m not, but I’ll be sure to tell her.”

“Hey, ah, Carr,” she has one more request, “please try not to speak too much of who I am and where I travel. It’s important that my race, like others moves quietly and unseen about our world.”

“I’ll try my best to only say what’s necessary.” Carr pushes her back into the current, “good luck in your journeys.”

“You too Carr, you too,” she waves goodbye as the river whisks her away.

Even though she never looks back again Carr watches until she slips beyond a river bend.

Looking to the skies he guesses it’s early evening and knows it will take several hours to walk to Ingleside. Making sure the flask is full Carr stares down the path to Ingleside. Carried on a chilly wind tiny droplets of rain. Exhaling deeply, he starts walking.

As darkness sets in, he sees a decent tree to sit down under. With all the excitement over the last few days needs some sleep. Leaning as cozily as possible against the tree closes his eyes.

Waking the next morning with a shiver Carr quickly takes care of things to get moving.

The sparse forest canopy lets in cold drizzly rain. Making small woodland creature sightings sparse. Sheltered from the weather, birds rest in the trees waiting to continue their migration south. Carr wonders if they will pass over the Swanmay or perhaps end up in the same place.

Taking a long rest in the afternoon he finds one last piece of dried meat to eat in the backpack. His body’s wounds, though mostly healed still ache in the dampness as he stretches out.

Adjusting the weapons on his belt re-examines the newly acquired sword. Studying the blade’s markings, he’s sure they are the same as the other stolen from Lord Piate last month.

Carefully he returns the poisonous blade to its’ sheath. I can’t believe there are more of these blades out here. And I’ve got two. Violetta’s going to think I haven’t gotten rid of the first one.

Drinking down the last of the water Carr gets ready to travel again. Even if she doesn’t believe me and is mad, I’ll be happy to see her.

Rehearsing possible conversations with Violetta keeps his mind occupied while trekking through the damp woods.

Leaving the shelter of the woods late in the afternoon the rains worsen.

Rounding a bend, he looks far to the west. Dim orange glows mark the tiny huts outside Ingleside. Knowing he’s closer to being home trudges on.

Passing some of the villages outer darkened homes Carr thinks of warmth, something to eat and sleep.

Crossing Ingleside’s eastern bridge senses that the town is sleeping quietly. Figuring Violetta will be as well Carr recalls her last request, not to show up so late.

Spotting the old sod hut allowed to crash in before he figures best to sleep there for the night.

Peeking inside the small empty building he’s glad to see no one has claimed it yet.

Craving warmth and rest enters dropping his bow, quiver and backpack.

Flopping on the straw bed pulls an old dusty blanket over the wet armor and closes his eyes. Hoping the next time, they open it’ll be morning.

Near the eastern bridge a bandit was hiding in the shadows and watched Carr enter the hut. Waiting for the young rogue to show the bandit hurries off to report to the other thugs stationed around the town.

With many leaks in the old straw roof, dripping water makes it hard to sleep. Especially with one periodically dripping on his head.

The droplets seem to get louder and louder. Adjusting his position away from the dripping Carr’s last wound throbs. The pain keeps the sandman away, but not things that go bump in the night.

Slowly the pain dissipates, closing his eyes briefly. The familiar sound of a sword being drawn from its’ sheath opens them again.

Rolling the now wet blanket aside Carr quietly sits up staring at the doorway. Easing a hand to the hilt of his long-sword.

Two fingers poke into the hut, as they pull aside the old hide covering. Carr stands to see two figures in the doorway.

In a rough voice Carr asks, “who’s at my door?”

“Death,” is the answer as the figures rush in attempting to overtake Carr.

Eyes, already adjusted to the dark hut Carr swiftly draws the long-sword, slashing deep across one of the male’s chest. The wound far from fatal still causes the male to back off. Carr slashes at him again but misses.

Stepping back the cut male is yanked from the hut and two others rush in.

With his night vision at his advantage Carr punctures the belly of the second male. Dragging the sword out the male is disemboweled.

A third thug swings a footman’s mace at Carr. Managing to avoid the attacks Carr backs against a wall. The mace swings for Carr’s head, he jerks out of the way. The mace bashes into the hut’s sod wall, removing a section of dirt.

The disemboweled male makes a feeble lunge with a short-sword scraping along Carr’s armored side. Succumbing to his injury the disemboweled male collapses to the floor.

Avoiding a heavy swing from the footman’s mace Carr crashes over a stool and table. Losing his balance does manage to keep the long-sword in between him and the mace.

KA-TANG! The mace knocks the long-sword into Carr’s chest, causing the young rogue to stumble backwards into wall.

A sword swung by a fourth male clips Carr’s right cheek.

Carr rolls to the left trying to dodge the mace. Not far enough as the mace hits Carr hard in the middle of the back, knocking him in front of the doorway.

A large hairy hand clutches Carr’s head and yanks him off his feet and outside.

Still holding Carr off the ground is Vis. The Owlbear uses his free hand to lay a flurry of punches to Carr’s body. Carr resembles a mat having the dust beat out of it. The scale armor absorbs most of the beating, until he is hit hard on the right side with a flail, causing Carr to drop the long-sword.

Noticing his punches barely hurt the rogue frustrates Vis into tossing Carr onto the muddy ground.

Trai, the guild guard, keeps Carr from getting to his feet by beating him with the flail.

The first injured male, a Hobgoblin drives a long-sword blade into Carr’s back missing anything vital.

Fighting to stay alive, Carr grabs the flail as it hits his side and holds on.

Jerking hard on the flail Trai inadvertently pulls Carr partially up. With his left-hand Carr reaches for the newly acquired short-sword.

Wanting to disarm Carr the Hobgoblin slashes at Carr’s hand, slicing deeply into a few fingers exposing bones to the air. The blade is so sharp Carr doesn’t feel it.

As Trai tries to jerk the flail free, Carr thrusts the poisoned blade into Trai’s thigh.

The fourth male, that first spotted Carr, a lean and tall, for a Halfling, hacks his sword at Carr, leaving a minor nick on the upper arm covering.

Distracted Carr is batted severely in the back by the mace knocking him out of the way of a heavy chop from the Hobgoblin’s sharp sword.

Releasing the flail Carr flips a couple times to try and get some distance, only to be grabbed up and slammed down by Vis.

Hopping over, Trai exclaims loudly, “boy, you’re gonna regret being born.” Then wails the flail down.

With the sounds of the fight going on, the village begins to stir. Faces start to peer out windows and doorways of nearby dwellings.

“This is for Jaf!” Utters the mace wielding man clubbing Carr’s side and cracking a rib.

Chopping down the Halfling cuts Carr’s left elbow.

Figuring his comrades have the situation under control the Hobgoblin tends to his chest wound.

Using his talons, Vis rakes Carr’s face missing his eyes by an eyelash.

Slashing wildly with the short-sword Carr gets Vis to temporarily back off.

Taking another hit from the flail Carr snags a dangle with his free hand. Trai tries to kick Carr’s hand off it. Carr drives the short-sword into Trai’s boot. The mace whacks Carr squarely in the back of the shoulder jerking the short-sword out, tearing Trai’s Achilles’ tendon. Trai screams out in pain as Carr lets go of the flail, causing Trai to stumble and fall over backwards.

Grabbing Carr’s left arm in one big hand, Vis quickly tosses him against the mucky sod hut.

Half standing Carr takes a hard hit in the abdomen from the mace. Doubling over from the blow Carr catches the mace with his folded body and clutches onto the mace’s shaft.

Pulling the mace Carr comes along with it, slashing with the short-sword. The poisoned blade slices across the guy’s wrist. Blood immediately pours from the wound. The man kicks Carr off the mace and backs away. Rushing at Carr, Vis plows him into the wet sod hut.

The Hobgoblin holds the mace toting male back, “hey wrap your wound!” They both notice Trai’s writhing in the mud holding his ankle.

More villagers wake to observe the messy dark scuffle. Unsure of what’s going on or who is fighting they remain in their homes.

Pinned against the sod hut Carr is pummeled by hit after hit from Vis’s fist.

Trying to get free Carr kicks Vis between the legs, which only angers the Owlbear. Vis chomps down on Carr’s shoulder with his massive beak.

The Hobgoblin jabs his long-sword in Carr’s belly under the chest plate and above the belt, twisting the blade before pulling it out.

Attacking Carr from the other side the Halfling pierces Carr’s hip above his leg covering.

With Carr caught in his beak Vis continues beating the young rogue in the stomach.

Struggling to break free Carr jerks forward as the Hobgoblin thrusts the razor-sharp sword higher. The long-sword skips off the side of the scale armor digging into the sod hut. Pushed back Carr’s body pins the long-sword. In an attempt to dislodge his weapon, the Hobgoblin sticks his face too close. More flailing about, Carr swipes his short-sword upwards, slicing the Hobgoblin’s face blinding his right eye.

Following through with the small blade Carr was trying to cut the Owlbear’s face. Vis easily catches Carr’s left wrist with his large hand, stopping the sword.

In agony the Hobgoblin lets go of his sword, turning away covers his eye.

More of an annoyance the Halfling pokes at Carr’s side but can’t get his dull blade through the scale armor.