Brigand Camp
Approximately 12 kilometres from Witches Crest
The party reached the walls, which were ramshackle at best. Haesteinn pressed his back against the palisade and saw only then that Eira had vanished. From Haesteinns left came several yells, which were saying that there was an attacker. It seemed hat they hadn't noticed anyone other than Eira at that point, for which Haesteinn was happy. Perhaps that was why she had so suddenly vanished. Genseric raised his voice causing Haesteinn to pay attention to him again. It was only then that the man was actually quite thin. Perhaps the man was right about this being impossible.
“It seems our scout has distracted them, so we shouldn't have to go over the wall. Let's scurry around to the front of the little camp and see if they leave the doors open for us.”Brigands were a careless bunch, and it wouldn't surprise Haesteinn if they left the gates open. He led the others to the front of the camp, where the palisade curved slightly down and came together to form a gate. The gate was about a man and a half tall, but didn't seem overly heavy. The yelling was getting louder and Haesteinn could hear inside the trampling of feet - two, three men, possibly. Going to give chase it would appear from their yells. However there must be more inside. As they reached the gate they violently shoved it open, swinging the doors outwards. They ran across a trail cut through the chest-high grass towards the forest, where Eira had disappeared from view completely.
They would have noticed Haesteinn if it were not for the fact that he'd ducked down quickly as soon as he heard them approaching. Their carelessness and his hiding provided opportunity for him to remain unnoticed. As soon as the brigands, who turned out to be only two, had also disappeared from view, Haesteinn urged the rest forwards. Slowly he approached the gate and took a quick look inside. All he could see was a dead man with an arrow in his head laying below the tower, and a man with an arrow in his chest somewhere nearby. There was a table near the man - overturned, when he fell over it.
As he was about to look away he noticed movement. Two men with morningstars were approaching the man below the tower.
“Fuckin' 'ell that was a right shot wosent it?” he spoke with a thick Murkran accent. The other man answered with a slightly more central accent.
“'tseems so. Whoever took that down musta been a ... hunter, or somethin. I'm sure the lads will get 'im.” The two of them bent over then and grabbed the body by the arm. It seemed that they had no real concern for the man - and they also seemed to be under the impression that they were under attack by a lone hunter or something and not a small party of soldiers.
Haesteinn turned to the others and spoke to them, no longer watching his tone.
“Right, since they already know that there's something going on, I imagine they won't just lay idly in their bed or twiddle their thumbs. I propose we simply go in and give them a taste of their own medicine - cut their arm or something and they'll run, I'm sure.” The mans eyes were serious, as they were about to enter combat. At least if the brigands didn't run at the sight of people who actually looked like they were worth a coin or two in a battle.
As soon as he was done speaking to them, he stood up straight from his slightly bent over position in the grass and stepped onto the cleared path, walking into the camp. He didn't draw a weapon yet, as there was perhaps a chance of talking these guys into submission. He'd seen two, and he didn't know how many were actually there. Jahar, frankly, seemed like the type who had been around a bunch of half-criminals. Perhaps he'd know how to speak to these people. If not, perhaps Genseric's noble words could sway them.
As Haesteinn walked into the camp, no doubt followed by his fellow Black Shields, he entered what seemed to be a sort of camp center. The area was clear and there was a burned out fire, with several tree stumps around it. Empty cups and burned meat laid around, indicating that these men had been here for at least a day. These things caught Haesteinn's eye, but what escaped him temporarily was the bald headed, brute of a man that walked out into the open from a large tent. The man looked strong, twice Genseric's size most likely. He was slightly larger than Haesteinn too.
Haesteinn only noticed the man when he raised his voice at the intruders.
“Wot 'av we 'ere? Lad's, c'mere and take a look at these runts!” His voice was like thunder - heavy and rolling. A few second later the two fellows with the morningstars that had carried away the body came out of a tent, as well as a man clad in a gambeson with a kettle hat. He wielded a cleaver - dry blood was on it.
Haesteinn froze for a moment as he looked up at the four men. His hand moved to his blades hilt swiftly, holding onto it for now.
“We're soldiers in the name of the royal king Gregar. You'd do best to lay down your weapons, as we have this camp surrounded. Surrender now and you'll be pressed into service - resist us and die.” Haesteinn delivered the words with power but was met only with laughter.
“Surrounded? 'ave seen no such thing. Yer' full of it, ya twat.” the man with the kettle hat answered as he gripped the cleaver more tightly.
A silence fell. A silence for Genseric or Jahar to fill.
Damn. Now would be a good time for Eira to return, Haesteinn caught himself thinking.
