Hugh was beginning to find this Auredhel to be a good and experienced man. His respect had certainly grown for the elf sorcerer. However, luck was not with them, as the pompous scoundrel known as Khoran had just caused a little bit of a hic-up in the plan thought up by Auredhel, by forwarding the plan himself. "Well, fuck." Hugh muttered. He had a feeling when he first met Khoran that he wouldn't like him, and that was turning more into reality as they progressed.

This all meant one thing, and that was to proceed with the plan. Maybe it would favor them a little more to have the scoundrel in front when the possibility of getting attacked was imminent. Regardless, now a comrade was in need of assistance, and Hugh would surely come to the man's aid, as Hugh would hope this man would do the same for him in future scenarios. This might have all be completely fine, anyways, and the scoundrel could simply pass by and Hugh and the rest of the group would simply sneak around.

Hugh was rather sick of spilling blood, but would kill in an instant if necessary. Otherwise, he would simply disarm a man and let him live. At the moment, he needed to get into a position where he could knock a man out of at least disarm him and give him cause to retreat. He continued to creep into the woods to get the drop on these people, if he so needed to.

Gone unnoticed in the back of the group Ice overheard each of the plans, rolling her eyes when Khoran rode out toward the highwaymen. Well we all know which on of us is going to die first. Idiot fool.

Silently she slid off her horse and slipped into the trees, finding a particularly tall one overlooking the road scene she scaled it with ease. Drawing her bow and knocking it she took in the going-ons below. Two motionless bodies showed that there'd been a scuffle and each party had lost one, but as always the highwaymen with their numbers had over taken the others.

As Khoran ran his mouth she counted four more, three of which had attention on the new arrival while the other had his bow still trained on the woman. Choosing quickly Icies aimed her bow at the other bowman and waited to see what the others would do.

Auredhel frowned as Khoran rode ahead, and began to follow after. He stopped himself, however, and observed the rest of the party. They were moving to support the rogue, and, he reasoned, so must the bold wizard. He tailed Hugh, his footfalls sounding softly from the grass below. Staking out a hiding place within striking distance of the strangers- and an unsavory looking lot they were, too- the old elf waited for a space, observing. One of the men (the leader, he supposed) claimed to be working on behalf of a Lord Esmond, tracking criminals, indicating the young lady as his quarry. Auredhel had never heard of anyone called Lord Esmond, though he was not terribly familiar with this particular kingdom. The fellow could have been lying. Then again, maybe he wasn't.

Deciding that, above all, they needed a distraction, the mage laid his staff gently on the ground, and began to move his hands in strange, esoteric gestures. A student of arcana would at once recognize the workings of spellcraft. Further north, on the far side of the highwaymen, noisy stomping sounds emanated from a small copse of trees, followed by a belligerent roar. A troll, or a clever bit of illusion? It was a convincing bit of misdirection, Auredhel knew, but it was not perfect. A trained ear and a sharp mind would be able to discern the truth of the matter. He only hoped it would force these men to tip their hands, and reveal their true natures.

"Dangerous wanted criminals? Then why is he dressed in such fine clothes? A man on the run would not have access to such things."

As he speaks, he dismounts and walks slowly towards the lead highwayman. The roar from the trees doesn't so much as make him jump (and while the spell was being cast, he had shot a quick glance in the mage's direction), but when it comes he suddenly lunges forwards. A dagger has slipped into his hand, and it's going straight at the man's throat.

The man sneered. "You think only poor folk can offend Lord..." His sentence broke off as his eyes followed Khoran's gaze to the trees off the side of the road, recognizing the look of someone checking for his companions. "Look sharp!" he cried to his fellow highwaymen, spotting the large form of Hugh, but missed the smaller form of Auredhel better concealed by the foliage.

As Khoran's dagger shot forward, the leader of the rag tag group barely managed to avoid taking the blade through the throat, lunging to the side so that the blade bit across the top of his shoulder instead. The others, seeing that things would get ugly quick, rushed at Khoran with blades drawn. The fourth loosed his arrow. The girl's eyes widened in shock and pain as the projectile slammed into her chest and her hands fell away from her head to uselessly grasp the arrow shaft now protruding from her.

"Damn! Luma Max Ignis!"

A blazing light pulses in the archer's face, hopefully blinding him temporarily. The aristocratic voice and bearing are gone, and now a second dagger is in Khoran's other hand as he attempts to fight his way over to the downed woman.

Hugh drew his cleaver falchion, a very mean and crude looking style of sword, and slipped his round shield(built as a mix of wooden and metal parts that appeared to have taken a beating in its years). He gave a horrifying war cry as he charged forward, no doubt a habit from years gone by. He ran like a bear, nothing able to stand in his way. He was getting cut every which way by the foliage, but his pain tolerance had become very high over the years and this was comparatively nothing to the things he had experienced.

He came crashing into the open, dragging tangled sticks and assorted greenery, stuck in his hair, beard, and clothes. Coming to a halt, he gave another barbaric and unsettling war cry before targeting the leading highwayman. His eyes locked on, filled with the battle rage that had been bred into him from childhood. He was aging, but he still was a warrior.

Hugh began running towards the highwayman, weapon ready. He brought the falchion up into the air as he came closer to the lead man. The falchion suddenly made a quick decline towards its prey.

The archer was obviously startled by the blinding flash of light. He took a few steps backward, dropping the bow and fumbling for his sword. The other two men blocked Khoran's path and one lunged forward with his short sword, attempting to skewer the noble through the belly.

The leader of the highwaymen was about to follow Khoran toward the downed woman, but stopped when he heard Hugh's war cry. He turned, drawing his own blade as Hugh broke free of the tree line and stepped forward to meet the large warrior. "Finish that one quick!" he called to his companions as he barely managed to avoid Hugh's blade, fearing that he'd need assistance with the skilled swordsman before him. Had he known there were still two others yet to join the fight, he may have fled, but against only Hugh and Khoran, the bandits still felt they had the upper hand.

Khoran, despite his appearance, was no noble. A lifetime of living on the streets and avoiding trouble guided his almost snakelike shimmy to the side, but it was pure anger at such an attack on a defenseless woman that spurred his brutal snap-kick to the man's crotch. Even a con-man has his standards.

"Cowardly rats!"

Hugh roared again, after seeing his sword not making it's mark. He swung again and again at the bandit, his strokes getting stronger with every swing. Sweat poured down his face and body, cooling him as he was on the edge of overheating. He continued to swing at the bandit. You would think he might reserve himself, but he could keep fighting like this for days. He had trained to fight harder and fought harder. That kind of power was required for someone who had been on both sides of a siege and been in battles that lasted for several days. There was a reason why his people had once been known far and wide for being the fiercest fighters, though the name of his people was forgotten, the memories of being on the receiving side of their horrifying warfare still remained.

Hugh roared again and charged forward at the highwayman, swinging his shield at the man's face.

The bandit dropped his weapon as Khoran's kick connected with his sensitive region and he let out a pained groan. The other man lunged forward, attempting to slam himself into Khoran and knock him to the ground. The archer was still backing away from the chaos, trying to recover from the blinding light.

Meanwhile, the leader of the highwaymen barely managed to avoid Hugh's first couple strikes, but he was losing ground quickly, back peddling to keep out of the way of the large warrior's blade and shield, unable to deliver a solid blow in return and fear started to take hold of him as he realized he was outmatched. Wanting to cut their losses before things turned from bad to worse, he cried to his companions, "Flee now! Retreat!"

And the four of them made haste toward the forest and away from the attackers, the archer and the one holding his family jewels much slower than their companions...

Icies watched the scene from above a little smile curling her pale lips as Khoran nailed the archer in the gonads. Well at least the group could provide some sort of entertainment that much she would admit. She started to lower her bow as the bandits fled back into the forest and then thought better of it. Raising it once more she followed the leader bandit's movements and let the arrow fly. It buried it's self into a tree not two inches from the bandit's face. This she did for two reasons. One as a warning. And the other to let him know he got off easy. She slung the bow back over shoulder and proceeded to climb down the tree and make her way to the battle grounds.

The woman with an arrow protruding from her chest had sunk down to the ground and was laying on her side, one hand still grasping the shaft of the arrow, while with the other she tried unsuccessfully to support herself. A small sound escaped her lips, perhaps a plea for help, but the words were too quiet and mumbled to hear. Her eyes focused momentarily on the two men in front of her before drooping closed.

Meanwhile, Straw made his way cautiously forward, sword in hand should it prove necessary, and around the bend in the road just in time to see the bandits fleeing into the woods. His eyes surveyed the scene, taking in the two dead men along the side of the road, as well as the woman that may very well join them soon.

As hesitant as Hugh was to continue the bloodshed, he knew the risk of leaving an enemy humiliated and unharmed. With this in mind, he made haste in pursuit of the bandits. The archer was Hugh's main target in this action, as he was the one who had caused the most damage to a defenseless female. He made his war cry once again, before sprinting right up to the archer.

The archer took notice, turning to knock an arrow to avoid his looming fate. Unfortunate for him, Hugh had been faster, and no mercy was shown to the archer as he was cut down with the cleaver. Not a particularly gruesome death, just slashing his stomach, allowing the man's entrails to fall out, and plunging the cleaver into his chest, effectively ending him. Hugh only had plans to leave one man alive, and the leader would not be one of them. Dropping his shield and withdrawing a throwing ax from his back, Hugh took after the leader. The leading highwayman was the most important to take down, as he would be the one most likely to seek revenge. Hugh took him down with the previously unsheathed throwing ax, planting it perfectly into the center of the man's back, between the shoulder blades.

Hugh decided to only take down one more, that being the only one who was now walking away unscathed. With the most running power Hugh could summon, he chased down the man, yelling as loud as he could to get his last victim's attention, before catching up with him and cutting him down with his cleaver falchion. First, he took out the man's legs, then he plunged the blade into him, it's tip coming out the other end. Hugh made certain to look this last man straight in the eyes and made sure he would remember his face. The man breathed one last breath and was released from this world, with the last face seen being only that of the barbarian.

Hugh finally looked to the last man, the one hopping away holding onto his most precious area, and gave him a nod, pointing his bloodied cleaver in the direction he bid him to go. It didn't take the last highwayman to figure out what Hugh meant by this gesture, as he lost a little of the pain and hopped away faster than before. Though the man gave one last look back, only to see Hugh wipe and sheath his blade, before picking up the corpse of the highwayman's comrade, holding it like a father would hold his child, and carrying it to the road.

Hugh emerged from the trees carrying the dead highwayman, and, in a strange language, Hugh said "May the gods grant you eternal rest in the grassy planes in peace." He laid the man down next to the archer, whom was cut down before making it past the treeline. He rolled both the corpses over, to let their faces see the skyline. As barbaric in warfare as his people had been, it would not be said they never took care of the dead. Even their enemies were given the benefit of being laid to rest on a burning pyre. This was the true legacy of his people that he would carry on until his death.

Obviously, Hugh couldn't take the time to care for the dead until after he had assured the survival of the wounded female, as he rushed over to her. He left her in her current position, putting his hand on her face and using the other hand to snap his fingers and get her attention. "Wake up! WAKE UP!" He said, continuing, "I hope one of you is a good healer, because this woman needs your help now!" He wouldn't touch the shaft, but he began pressing down on the wounds surrounding the arrow and dressing it with her own clothes, using what extras she had. A lot of blood had been lost, but the first thing to do was to stop the bleeding.

Straw watched with some amazement at the ferocity with which Hugh went after the bandits, attacking with such swiftness that the bandits barely fought back. The old man didn't move as Hugh brought his wrath upon the highwaymen and seemed almost startled when the large warrior hurried back over to the downed woman, trying to save her life. So far as Straw knew, their little group contained no healer and he did not expect the woman to last long. "I'm not sure if we can do anything for her now," he said slowly. He seemed about to set a hand on Hugh's shoulder, but thought better of the gesture.

The woman's eyes fluttered open as the warrior snapped his fingers in front of her face. Then she gasped in pain as he pressed down on the wound. Her eyes focused for a moment on the man trying to save her, "the ... potion," she said in a barely audible voice before her eye lids threatened to close again.

The pair rode down path in silence. A simple escort mission was all it was supposed to be, yet her blade and bow had already seen combat. The grey ear of her mount twitched forward. "Saskia, Lle auta yeste'" The dire wolf howled and ran down the path flushing out anything that might spook the horses. Unfortunately, the danger came from behind. A sharp pain stuck her neck. Grabbing at what she thought was an unpleasant wasp, she found something quite different. A dart tipped in poison. "Run!" She eked out to her travelling companion. She fell off her horse as her body writhed with pain from the fast moving poison.

"One is down!" one of the men called back to his leader. Alya winced, clenching her teeth. "Not without taking at least one of you with me." With the last of her energy she rolled forward drawing her dagger and plunging it into the chest of her assailant. She held it there until she was satisfied he was dead. Her body slid from his. The knife fell from her hand, and her head hit the ground. Her lips whispered. "Poika.... tuulo'.... 'kshapsae....." And then the world was black.

~*~

The elf's white hair danced across her face waking her. "It worked..." she breathed a sigh of relief. She looked around hoping to find her companion gone, but instead she found her with an arrow through her chest in the arms of the highwaymen who had attacked them. Quietly she pulled an arrow and drew her bow. "Put her down. Now." She grazed the tip of her arrow against the back of the barbarian's neck. A move she would have been less fearless about had she known the entire stature of the man. "This woman is with me. I don't get paid unless I get her where she needs to go alive and relatively unharmed." She worked her way to the front of the man as she spoke. "Saskia," she whistled. The wolf came running "Vara tel' amin" The wolf barred her teeth threateningly just waiting for one of them to try to harm her master so she could attack.

Alya lowered her bow and put her hand on the woman. "Leave the potion. We may need it yet." She put her hands on the shaft of the arrow. "Pilin en' templa 'Kshonna, wanya." The arrow shimmered in the sunlight for several seconds before it finally dissipated. With the arrow out of the way the bleeding increased. Queasily Alya pushed her two index fingers into the wound. The woman jolted with pain. "Tanka tel' taurnin." The bleeding lessened as the deepest part of the wound healed. Over and over she repeated the process until the woman's wounds were healed. She quickly rose to her feet and drew her bow again. "Now what to do with the two" she said with a question in her voice "of you who attacked us in the first place?"

Hugh felt a tickle of something familiarly cold, that brought back a few bad memories, followed by the sound of a female ordering him to put the woman cradled in his arms down. After, she stated some odd information about requiring this woman to be alive so as to get paid. The only thing that really puzzled Hugh was the part about where this female elf came from, before he recalled that the fallen one they saw laid down beside the road had white hair similar to this female elf.

What appeared to be a dire wolf barred its teeth at Hugh as he lowered the body very gently to the ground. After doing this the elven woman used some form of magic to remove the arrow shaft and heal the woman. This amazement turned to annoyance as she stood back up and aimed the knocked arrow at him.

Hugh spoke up in his deep thunderous voice, "Perhaps it would be necessary to inspect my arms." Motioning to his shield which bore a bloodied and dented mark on it, the blood starting to dry, but nevertheless, fresh. "You might also inspect the bodies gathered over there." He said, motioning with his head towards the corpses Hugh himself had made. "Perhaps, if you dig a little deeper into your memory, you might recall never seeing my face until now." He said, before sighing and continuing, with "Of course, that alone is not evidence enough. There is little way I can prove to you who we are and who we are not, unless of course you were to check us for belonging of yours." He paused and looked her in the eyes, before continuing with "You might have to check me thoroughly, though." And he winked at her.

There are a variety of things that could result from that small amount of flirtation, and one of them could be an arrow in the chest and another could be a dire wolf trying to tear Hugh limb from limb. Hugh preferred the second one to the first, if any horrid result came from his sense of humor, as he had tangled many a time with dire wolves, and there was a better chance of survival against a wolf than an arrow. Of course, this hadn't been the first time Hugh had been humorous towards a captor.

Finally, Hugh made his last case for survival, "I'm sure it would be pertinent to mention that I personally gored to death three of the men who attacked you and your companion." He said, now speaking seriously as opposed to a few moments ago.

"Run!" Alya had yelled suddenly and Edwina turned to see her travelling companion slip from her saddle. She hesitated, not sure if she was willing to leave the elf to whatever fate awaited her. It was only a few moments, but it was long enough for one of the bandits to grab her steed's bridle. She had gone for the short sword that hung from her hip, but the brigands had two much of a jump on her and she barely had it out of the sheath before she was being pulled to the ground.

--

"He speaks the truth," Straw chimed in, but taking a small step backwards and away from the elf with her bow trained on Hugh. "If it wasn't for us happening upon you, the brigands over there might have been slitting both your throats right this second," he said, intentionally leaving out the part about how the woman still on the ground might have suffered no worse than a stolen purse had it not been for their intervention. As it was, her eyes were closed after the magical healing, but her color looked much healthier and her breathing was deep and steady.

(sorry - double post)

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