Snippet #2027193

Thwack! shot the longbow, the arrow whizzing through the air, and with a Thump!, it hit a tree.

“I swear I’ll…” Thwack! Thump! “….burn you if you get me lost again like this.”

The Sorcerer stood with his bow, another arrow pulled from his quiver and poised at the ready. The man wasn’t very tall; in fact, he was just about average height. His build was also average, though it was obvious that whatever did not make him skinny sure wasn’t muscle. Any other features that the man had were obscured by his long blue robes, which were trimmed by various interweaving designs. The robes seemed a little long for him, as its hem glided along the floor with each step. Strangely enough, it was not torn in any way, as one would expect something dangling so precariously on the floor. With that realization in mind, one would naturally look towards the rest of the robe for any sign of wear-and-tear, but alas! to no avail!

Thwack! Thump! Another shaft flew. By this time the Sorcerer had reached the first arrow he had let fly, which was stuck in a large ash tree. He pulled it out and stuck it back into his quiver. From the disarray of arrows in the surrounding woodland, one would assume that either this man was a terrible yeoman, not worthy of even holding the bow in his hand, or he simply did not aim.

“We’ve been here before, damn it! This tree is already marked by your kiss! I swear I’ll burn you….”

He sheathed the bow behind his back and went about collecting the loose arrows scattered about the forest. Reaching the last one, his gaze drifted upwards towards the smoke of a fire. “I’ll be damned…” He swore, sporting a mischievous grin which exemplified his large canines.


“You were right after a-” He said, in a grateful tone, which was cut off by a more angered one, “You bitch! Why’d I go in a circle then?”

As there was no one around to hear him, silence was his reply. He trudged along groggily, mumbling every so often. Behind him the sun was just rising, and he sighed loudly. What started as a short trip to satisfy certain bodily needs turned into a whole night of running about in confusion. Remarkably he had been going in circles the entire time, swearing loudly.

“I hate you…” he mumbled as he stepped within the borders of the camp.

---

The sight he saw there did him no good, either. He saw the black head of their conniving leader, and it made him shiver. That figure came from the shadowy reaches of Talos-knows-what, and was addressing the party, excluding our Sorcerer of course. He was saying something, though few words truly passed into the magician’s ear. The Crowcatcher, as the leader was known, was giving orders pertaining to some caravan, which was ambushed by bandits and needed unburdening of its children… or something. Our sorcerer also noted that the paladin, of all people, was to be their leader.

In a flash of smoke, as it was, Crow disappeared, and the sorcerer could be seen stumbling behind him.

“I missed the orders because of you,” he said aside. “I swear I’ll burn you, or my name isn’t Ari-Logan Askew!”