Snippet #2514277

It was pushing nightfall by the time Erik set eyes upon the small caravan once more, but even at this distance and in the dwindling light of twilight one could tell that something was amiss. The wagon lay overturned on the side of the road, and there was no sign of movement or of the horses save where one lay motionless in the road.

The horse's coat was slick with blood where several arrows were embed in its neck and chest, while the rider lay trapped beneath the fallen beast. A broken spear protruded from his armor where it had slipped between the metal plates to bury itself in his side.

The horse had long since drawn its last breath, but the rider still drew rasping wheezes between his blood tinted lips. The man was none other than the guard who had sought to engage Erik in conversation earlier that day.

The wagon itself had been ransacked, its goods pillaged and the bodies of the merchants strew across the side of the road where they had been skewered by spear and sword. One man's face was caved in from a blunt blow and his remaining eye stared vacantly.

It was unusual for the roving bandits and barbarians of the Kerador plains to strike this close to the city, but desperation was driving them closer and closer to civilization each year. The purging of the voidling taints from Aelora had not restored the once abundant plains herds that had proliferated Kerador prior to the time of the fall, nor had it drawn ravished ecosystems back from extinction. The human populations were growing and expanding by the year, but the land struggled to heal and to provide for the growing numbers of settlements. The nomadic peoples suffered the worst, as hunting was slim and they hadn't the resources or know-how to lay down roots and turn to farming. Starvation had turned the once noble clans to pillaging and stealing.