The Stolen Lands 2

Raid on Oleg's

He awoke the next day with something of a headache. “Red Wine” he thought, as he sat up in his free room at Oleg’s. Andorin Rand was never one to pass on free drink, even if it was red wine. But perhaps he should’ve stopped at two glasses he speculated a top his shabby bed. His attention quickly shifted back to the present. The suns first rays would be upon them soon and he had to be ready. His other compatriots he met the day before were already busy donning their armor and readying themselves for the fight to come. “And some armor that is” his inner voice remarked, noticing the young guy with the beard in fine silken garb over some rather costly looking armor. A paladin or a noble he wondered, his brother was a paladin of an order some many miles away from here. The notion of asking “… Aegin was it?” which it was in a silly hope of happenstance that he might know his brother had crossed his mind, but would have to wait. They had made some of the preparations the night before, but he would still need to be in position.

Some moments later after some brief preparation, (made even faster for Andorin as he was accustomed to sleeping in his armor) he made his way out into the courtyard. The proprietor of this fine establishment, (an older grizzled looking man) Oleg greeted him with a silent nod and motioned to the capsized wagon not far away. A fine hiding place Andorin had decided the night before, "perfect for concealing his presence for this ambush, and some cover to boot. " he thought. He made his way into the north facing hollow of the wagon, and drawing his bastard sword from the sheath on his back, he laid it against the wagon. A quick glimpse south towards the double wooden doors and he could see Aegin had made it to his planned spot, hiding behind the closed door, with the other swung wide open. And slightly to the right though up a good 15 feet on a wooden platform attached to the palisade walls was Aevys with a short bow in hand. He wasn’t sure how he felt about her, she had been mostly quiet, though when she did speak it seemed almost unnaturally eloquent.

With little else to do Andorin took a seat inside his over turned wagon and closed his eyes. It would be killing time soon. They had decided that the night before. After what Oleg’s wife, Svetlana, had told them about the horrible things these bandits had done, the decision came easy to Andorin. Harassing these poor common folk with threats of death and rape in a gleeful joyous fashion, all while stealing their only means of livelihood. “Despicable” he thought. A few minutes seemed to last an eternity for Andorin, as he sat there playing through the fight to come in his mind. Picturing his strikes and imagining the faces of his enemies as he drove his bastard sword home in a murderous frenzy. Hoping that when the time came, his movements would be as swift and accurate as he was dreaming they would be.

There was no signal, or alarm. Only the predicted sound of hoof beats coming closer and closer. Andorin’s muscles tensed, and he shifted from sitting to kneeling, and grabbed for the hilt of his bastard sword.

“Come to get the taxes we have.” A man in ragged leather armor with a green cloak mused while dismounting his horse.

“And just be glad we don’t fuck your wife’ chimed in another.

But something happened just then, something that surprised even him. A voice, singing, echoing through the courtyard. Paired with the sounds of a wooden gate slamming shut. It was time he knew.

Andorin burst forth from his cover swinging his bastard sword as best he could at the nearest of the bandits. Being taken completely by surprise the bandit stood little chance of turning the blow aside with his short sword. Andorin’s blade had found its mark, and his unsuspecting victim had found a quick death.

As the adrenaline sinks in and the thrill of battle takes hold, he finds himself mere feet away from three other bandits, all drawing their swords aside from one, who draws his bow.

A smirk crosses Andorins face, as an arrow flies true and finds its mark, striking one of the bandits. “Aevys” he thought, “A nice shot!”.

Though his smirk is quickly replaced by a grimace of pain. Enraged at the death of their fellow bandit, the remaining swarm Andorin, and while he is able to turn their blows with a few will timed dodges and parries, an arrow shot from one finds its mark. Striking him in abdomen.

A haze takes a hold of him. Everything seems so distant suddenly as his mind is filled with severe pain. His body moves more out of instinct then anything, as he cuts another bandit down. What little control he can muster bursts through his adrenaline filled frenzy.The sharp pain in his abdomen offers him a brief moment of sobriety from it, and without much thought, he moves deftly around the wagon to gain some cover. His last clear memory of that fight is seeing Aegin. Bearded youth that he is, charging forward, shield in hand, vaulting over his wagon. His grimace of pain disappears, and he smirks yet again.



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