The skirmish raged on. Sword, spear, shield, arrow and spell, seemed all to have a part in the combat taking place. Dead were beginning show beneath the fighting; a bloody sight the village had probably never seen. The outlaws? They had no idea they would be so outmatched when they arrived; even the reinforcements were falling like felled trees in the street, the Adventurer's more than making a formidible enough force to do the job. It was almost beautiful, with the roaring fields of flame around them.

In the flame, however, it was assuredly NOT beautiful. It was far too hot for anyone's liking; at least, that of anyone in their right mind. It was an inferno that had already cooked the crop and would happy cook armour and flesh to consume it's growing need for fuel. A bad place, then, for Cinaed to fall during his fight with the mounted warrior.

"I've got you!"

Kaden's hand reached down, grabbing Cinaed's forearm and yanking him up to drag him out of the field while he still had time. It was a close shave, but if everything went smoothly Kaden would just about manage it!

Not too far away at that moment, Richter and Rand fought and Adion tossed a potion.

"I've got it!" Cried the Alchemist, her hand catching the liquified spell so she could then rush towards the burning fields with her arm pulled back to throw. When she got within range, she lobbed it, expecting the potion bottle to shatter and spray ice around to immediately quench the fires - but that didn't happen. Instead, an arrow knocked it mid-flight and sent iit sprawling towards an area of ground where Ricard dove; for he had quickly realized, just as had the alchemist and the archer behind the arrow, that it would be useless if it didn't reach the exact heart of the fire - right in the centre of the field.

"Tch!" Sounded the archer, the same man who led the Outlaws. "Men! We're pulling back, we're done here!"

At the archer's orders, any Outlaw still living and able to flee would do so and attempt to pass over the hill and into the woods that would herald their escape. The archer turned too, or began to turn, when a rock struck him in the face and caused him to stumble and bleed.

Seething in anger, he looked at the perpetrator and immediately knocked a barbed arrow. He took aim and then, with expert precision and speed, he released it into it's target. Not a second later, the missile struck Ricard in the chest and sent him sprawling backwards.

"Guh!"

"No, no, no, no!" Adion said to himself as the bottle was shot out of the air. From what he could tell, since the ground was not completely frozen, the bottle was still mostly intact. He also caught Ricard get hit in the chest with an arrow. He would have to help him, but it was not like he would let that archer get a second shot.

Adion focused just long enough to spot were the archer was. He knew that this was his last potion, but it was also a good use of said potion. With a strong throw, the lightning potion that Adion had in his hand hit the bandit leader in the face, causing the lightning within the bottle to shoot out to anyone close by. As a measure of safety, the bottle was followed up by a shadow ball, only a few seconds behind.

The flames had rapidly claimed Cináed when he fell in the field, screwing his eyes closed in anticipation of the worst. Only a few short moments later, however, he felt a hand grabbing his arm and he was pulled forwards. He'd spent precious few seconds in the midst of the fire, but surely that had been enough to cause significant damage - much as even brushing your hand through a fireplace for a few seconds would lead to painful burns.

As he staggered back onto his feet though, Cináed was in fact totally unharmed. There was not a burn on his body, even though his armour was hot to the touch and his clothes were singed black. He blinked in surprise at the one that had come to his aid, before smiling warmly in recognition. "Thanks," he gasped, breathing heavily, "I owe you one."

If he was aware of how badly he should have been hurt, he did not make mention of it. His eyes sought out the man he had knocked from his horse, but he was already remounted and galloping away. "Light burn you, you bastard!" he yelled after the bandit angrily, grip tightening on his sword.

The retreat of the outlaws quickly became apparent, and Cináed sighed, shoulders drooping. For all his training, he'd achieved practically nothing. It had been the outsiders that had driven back the outlaws, not him. All he'd done was get himself kicked into a fire. His chest ached where the horse's hooves had impacted him. No doubt it would be leaving a notable bruise.

Ricard's cry snapped him out of his self-pity party, however, and he turned in time to see the boy collapsing on the ground near to a vial. "Ricard!" he called out, breaking in a run to go to the slightly older boy's aid. "Come on!" he directed to Kaden, "We have to help him!"

Cináed skidded to a halt beside Ricard, crouching down at his side. "Lady's breath, where's the healer? We need to get the healer here!"

The bottle next to Ricard went largely unnoticed by Cináed, who had no idea of its purpose.

Richter let out a loud victorious yell as the bandits fled. The village would be safe, and he was happy for that. He turned all around, looking at the outcome. Bodies on the ground, unaccompanied heads, and burnt crops. Grizzly sights indeed, but at least they had won.

He turned just in time to see Ricard falling to the ground, an arrow stuck in his chest. "Shit!" Richter said, under his breath, as he quickly rushed over. Thankfully, some others had made their way over as well.

"Lady's breath, where's the healer?" He heard one of them say. He hadn't met this one before, but he was calling over another man that he recognized from the inn.

Richter bent down over Ricard and examined the arrow. Barbed; it wouldn't be as simple as just pulling it out.

"Where is the healer?" He asked the other two men urgently. Richter carefully slipped his arms under Ricard's body and slowly lifted him, his goal being to find a person who could help.

Rand wiped the blood from his eyes but the vision in his left was still blurred with a crimson tint. He had taken a nasty cut to his brow during the struggle against so many armed men. Rand panted heavily as he rested in his crouch, the one fist on the ground seemed to be only thing keeping his shaking legs from collapsing to the ground. Rand had not had to fight this hard for this long in a very long time and it was catching up to him.

At some signal Rand did not see or hear the few remaining attackers began to retreat back into the forest. Rand glanced around and noticed his mysterious companion had made his way elsewhere too. Rand looked back just in time to roll the side and avoid a dagger thrown by a lone straggler.

"You ain't walking away from this one hunter" The man said in a flat voice. "Not after you felled so many of my friends". Rand was about to respond with some witty remark or another when the metal of his gauntlet began to burn and tighten, sending rivulets of blood dripping down Rand's arm and onto the ground.

"No, not now" Rand hissed through gritted teeth. "NOT NO-" Suddenly stopped shouting and a mad grin suddenly split across his face. The would-be-killer stopped his approach, looking at what could only be called the expression of a madman that had suddenly appeared on Rand. Bloodshot eyes suddenly snapped up and locked onto the man and in a sudden rush Rand just charged straight at him.

The dagger sunk deeply into Rand's shoulder, but he did not seem to notice. Or at the very least he did not care. Rand threw a punch at the now unarmed man, clearly taken aback that a normal man would be in too much agony to counter, he threw up his arm to block. The crack of bone accompanied the follow-through, the man seemed to have grown a second elbow as his forearm broke clean in two.

The wail of agony was like sweet music to Rand's ears and he began to laugh manically as he pummeled the man with a rain of fierce blows. The blood began to form a pool around the carnage, fed by both Rand's wounds and his victim's. Long after the man stopped moving Rand kept hitting the corpse, the laughter never ceasing.

It didn’t take more than twenty minutes before she was once again day-dreaming and Mataiya kept herself from being knocked off Lycinthia only by flopping over against her mane. Luckily the two had traveled together a lot, so she knew just exactly how to keep from falling off the beautiful beast. Wrapping her arms around her horses’ neck ‘taiya soon fell asleep having complete trust in Lycinthia’s ability to get them to the village. She wasn’t sure what would happen once reaching the place that was supposed to be so terrific, but surely it would be a lot better than where she was currently living. Death and destruction plagued her hometown and having to learn at an early age to protect herself stole her childhood away from her.

“It’s time to go already? My, these past few weeks have moved by so quickly, I’ve lost track. At least this is my last year, and then I’ll be able to do whatever I can do in order to find out who set up my parents.”

“’Taiya, hurry uppppppp!”

“I’m coming, squirt! Learn some patience, you weirdo!”

“I’m not weird! I’m telling mom on you!”

“Hahaha, you know she would agree with me, kiddo. Being weird isn’t a bad thing anyways. I’m just as weird as you, Ridley.”

“I’m gonna miss you, ‘Taiya, a lot!”

“I’ll miss you too, all of you. I promise to write whenever possible. After all, I owe your family a lot for taking me in for all these years.”

“D’awwwwww.”

Mataiya smiled softly and hugged her little foster sister, Ridley. The rest of the family was already outside waiting for her, and she glanced around once more before climbing onto Lycinthia. She was heading off to train with the best of the best in order to have the ability to find the persons responsible for burning down her small village and killing off her real mother and father.

That was exactly a year ago and although she was still trying to find out who killed her parents, she wasn’t as focused on it. She instead spent a lot of time with the family that took her in, but couldn’t help but have the desire to travel every once in a while. Most of the time she just visited the same place that she found as a kid, but today she was exploring further than she had ever gone before. Finally after forever or so it seemed, the two of them reached the valley. Neighing, Lycinthia woke up Mataiya and the redhead raised her head with a slight gasp. It was absolutely beautiful, perhaps moreso than her own patch of paradise. The two rode into the valley and paused with slightly bewildered looks.

“Where do we go…?”

The Bandit's had now fully retreated, except for those dead or otherwise dying. Quite a few got away, but even more had fallen in the raid; a worthy sacrifice, many of them thought, considering what they had got away with. Mataiya might have seen them in fact, galloping into the woods through the moonlight with figures slung under arms and bound with sacks over heads. Back at the village, however, it seemed people were finally beginning to notice the missing locals.

Ricard was gravely injured, obviously, and slipping in and out of consciousness - though ironically the arrow kept him from losing too much blood. Meanwhile, the Alchemist had taken up the ice potion and cast it over the field, putting out the flames with the shattered freeze spell... It didn't matter though, it was far too late. More than half the crop had gone. They'd have no surplus to trade that autumn and some of them might not get through the winter.

How would they ever get over this? The smell was terrible, burning corpses and thick smoke still lingering; blood hissing as it touched the stranded fires. Children, men and women of all ages were crying, or just shocked into silence. Some of them began to tend to wounded and try to clear the streets and drag the dead away, but most just sat there.

Kaden, meanwhile, after making sure that Cinaed was fine, stared into the sky. Thick clouds were forming over the moon and within seconds, thunder clapped the distant horizon and rain began to fall upon them like a spell of cleansing. He wiped his eyes, then pushed off to examine the archer. The body that Adion's potion of lightning had struck seemed to have been completely fried beyond recognition, causing him to turn away in disgust and instead focus on what appeared to be a madman beating on one of the dead. Well... He wasn't surprised. He had always heard that war turned men insane, after all. If this hadn't been war, then what was it?

Down the street, Elder Fermiah began to trudge helplessly through rising puddles of mud. He watched the Alchemist, Cinaed and several outsiders tend to Ricard, but held no hope. He was in too much a state of shock to truly react to what had just happened beyond silence...

"We can't remove the arrow," the Alchemist said, as she crouched over the young man. "There's no instrument in my possession or in any possession in this village that can safely take this missile out without tearing away his chest. We have no choice but to keep it in and try to keep him stable... Help me move him inside. The inn, tell them to clear spaces for the wounded."

(Apologies if I missed anyone!)

Adion could now see Ricard being carried by the group, the arrow still showing from his chest. It didn't take him long to meet up with the group. Quickly turning to the town alchemist, Adion asked, "Do you have any honey flax? I think I could make something so that the arrow can be removed slowly while he is being healed in the areas it has been removed from."

Illsera woke up with a groan, she didn't remember much of what had happened the smell of smoke and the sounds of screaming...and so she naturally went out to check what was going on. Worried for...well anyone. Next thing she felt was something hard smacking against the back of her head and falling to the ground. Her eyesight was blurry but she could tell that it was unfamiliar ground and not the town she had lived in all her life.


----


Heiwa was not seen during the fight, but afterwards a blond figure in his cloak was spotted with two daggers and an odd winged orb flying around him that soon shrank down to the size of a bead. He had helped all he could, but he felt like it was not enough. A red feather fell from his cloak as he let out a sigh.

As abruptly as he had begun, Rand suddenly stopped. He sat motionless for a few moments before looking down at his battered and bruised hands, still clenched tightly. Blood dripped from each and every digit, very little of it his own. With a sudden rush of movement Rand stood and dashed away from the scene. He barely made it to the bushes before he relieved his stomach of it's contents.

This had happened to him before, and it was a similar scene that greeted him each time he.... well... he had no real idea what happened to him... or what exactly triggers it. All he knew was the source, that damned gauntlet. Maybe the metal had some type of adverse reaction to the human body, but sometimes it seemed to have a will of it's own.

Rand stood on shaky legs and rested his back against a tree, trying to get his breathing back under control. Judging from the lack of noise, Rand assumed the enemies had retreated. This was a good thing, right now Rand did not think he could fight anymore..... in fact he was afraid to find out.

Cináed allowed the other men to lift Ricard and carry him towards the inn. He rose to his feet, sighing softly and running a hand through his hair. His eyes fell to his blackened armour and he grimaced, he was probably half-covered in black from the smoke. The young boy stepped away from the gathering group to pace closer to the smouldering fields. He leaned onto one of the fences, disturbing the embers that ought to have been hot to the touch without noticing their presence.

He would do better next time. He would prove that he wasn't just a kid with a sword he couldn't use. He was a man with a sword he damn well could use. The bandit had just been on horseback, that had been why he'd been so useless, it hadn't been fair. That was why.

If he hadn't been so careless and gotten himself knocked away into the field, maybe he could have done something about the archer that shot Ricard.

"Gods damn it," Cináed cursed, kicking one of the fence posts angrily. The embers on the ground nearby seemed to glow brighter for a brief moment.

*Written by Smrtazz13 and Canibelle.

A dapple Andalusian rode through the path into the valley, carrying two riders with it. One, a witch who held a lantern to illuminate their path, the other held nothing, but gazed awe-struck up at the night's sky. He wore a humble brown leather satchel which contained nothing more than a few empty books and observational tools. He travelled light it would seem, something he'd come to regret when he had found out first hand just how far the Valley's entrance was from the closest charted town.

The pair had met on the road, not so far from the valley. The witch, dressed in light silks with a cloak resting on her shoulders, had been riding the Andalusian when she came upon a weary traveler.

Where she wore silk, the modest scholar dressed in flannel. Deciding to favor the walk, he'd opted out of bringing a steed to ride on his journey to the Valley. It was a decision he made knowing the challenges it would pose, but he wanted to enjoy his time away from the city.

Still, when the young woman had come upon him walking on the road, he could not find the strength to turn down her offer for a lift.

Now, after a mostly silent journey between them, they had finally arrived at the valley, only to be met with a gristly scene. Bodies littered the ground, and the fields were blackened from the fire that had passed through there. The witch frowned, slipping from the horse, leading the animal past softly moaning bodies and still corpses. She turned to another traveler who had also made her way into the Valley: Mataiya. "Watch your back. Something awful has happened here. It looks like it is over, but I am not certain."

The scholar grimaced at the scene, shaking his head in disbelief. This was supposed to be a place of peace and plenty....he didn't expect suffering. He hopped from his seat on the horse and walked over to the closest body. Quickly he knelt, placing two of his fingers against the neck of the young man who lied on the ground motionless. He felt nothing, and sighed.

"Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your heart be troubled and do not be afraid."

He whispered the words almost silently, not wanting to offend any that may have been watching.

The witch quickly pushed forward, toward a few figures who lingered outside. "What has happened here?" she asked, first to Cináed. Her eyes swept over Rand and Heiwa.

(This is who I gathered, from reading, were still outside. I apologise if I've missed anyone.)

This horse was built for ploughing and most definitely not flat out galloping. His sides were heaving with effort as his huge hooves pummelled at the earth. Evening had rushed away behind the mountain, the rising smoke becoming less and less visible in the withdrawing light. But Eve could smell it, the scent growing stronger with each heavy stride.

Only an hour ago had she reached a hand out to close The Teller’s eyes for the very last time after watching life fade from his old body. The Teller was what they all called him; no one was sure what had been his birth name. He claimed to have the power of sight, though the truth of this was unsure. One couldn’t deny his uncanny knack for predicting the weather and level of success of the next harvest. Mundane things. Residents of the Valley would often visit him asking of their fortunes, most for fun and some out of desperation. He was a kind old man, devoted to his land, but his wits had been escaping in the last few years. Yet he had always remained fond of Eve, and she of him. The Teller enjoyed her songs and rather bawdy jokes, she was the closest thing he’d ever had to a daughter, and likewise to Eve, he was the father she never had - and now he was gone.

“They don’t believe me Luney” he had said weakly, so soft that Eve had to lean closer to hear him. Her hands did close around his. She’d tried not to notice how translucent the skin looked; how cold his touch felt; how fragile his bones seemed. “I told them. Told them not to let them come and go as they wished. Our home. They’ll ruin us. I told them, I told them. I told you, Luney, you know.” A cough racked him, the rest came out in a wheezy drone; “I can’t do anything. Too late, too old, Luney. Just the start. Just the beginning.”

The flames that danced in his eyes disappeared.

But she didn’t know. He was insane. It wasn’t until the orange glow of fire was visible through the window beside the old man’s death bed that even she felt guilty and foolish for not listening to a seemingly crazy old man.

By the time she arrived at Fermiah’s Village it was over. It was clear that The Teller wasn’t the only death tonight. Eve made for the tavern in a sort of dream-like state, horse dripping sweat and dark eyes drinking in destruction.

Paradise?

Kaden and Elder Fermiah had helped Adion, Richter and the Alchemist carry the unconscious Ricard into the tavern, where the last flickers of a young flame were being doused by the bartender and his wife with a bucket fresh from the well. Other helpers had cleared tables and arranged them for the treatment of wounded; the dead would have to be lined up outside, there was little else for it.

"No!" The Alchemist snapped at Adion. "Do you have no sense, boy? This arrow is barbed, you cannot just remove it without causing mass internal damage!" The middle-aged woman was clearly in shock and snapping out the way she handled it, but she had to remind herself to take deep breaths... In and out, in and out. Ahh, it was working. Slowly she calmed and could better focus at the task at hand.

Kaden and Fermiah both watched in perfect silence, as though they knew that using their voices for prayer or outcry would be nothing but a waste of the breath so many had lost. The Alchemist tore Ricard's shirt, examining the messy wound and bruising as blood smeared all over her hands. The mess was unavoidable...

"I think a rib is broken," she explained, "and the wound about... four, maybe five inches deep. He should well be dead, I think, ironically, this arrow is keeping the boy alive. Even if we manage to remove it.. I'm not sure we can sa-" she paused, watching as Kaden turned and left as though he couldn't bear to hear another word. He didn't even know the boy, nor had he ever met him... But he couldn't watch what was about to take place in that room.

"Whe-... Where is my daughter?" Fermiah asked, finally finding his voice. "Illasera? Where is she?" Turning to the door, he stormed out, screaming her name and that question into the night-time rain.

Outside, Kaden had only one thing he could do. He stumbled past Cinaed, and Rand, and Heiwa, and Aldarine, and Amnon, and then finally Evelune to a primitive wooden drain near the end of the village. He buckled a little, then threw up.

(Sorry if I missed anyone. Just PM me if I did and I'll make changes!)

Cináed's hand hovered over his sword as another pair of arrivals drifted into the village. The blonde boy narrowed his eyes with suspicion where just hours before they would have been wide and sparkling with excitement. When it became apparent they had no hostile intent, he relaxed, letting out a sigh and dropping his hand. His shoulders sank again.

"What does it look like?" he replied, voice bitter. "A band of ... evil, malicious, blackhearted bastards attacked us and burned our crops."

The youth, who couldn't have been more than sixteen, spat angrily at the ground. His face, dirtied from the smoke, contorted into a pained scowl. Streaks from sweat (or had it been tears?) cut through the grime unevenly.

"For all that it's worth, welcome to the village." A surprise, perhaps, that the boy found words of kindness even now. "My name is Cináed. So long as you are good people you should find yourselves welcomed. Please, excuse me."

Cináed stepped away from the pair and walked after Kaden, who he had seen stumbling past. As he did so, a keen observer might have noted the embers lying on the ground nearby growing dimmer, only then being quenched fully by the rain. He approached the other boy slowly, placing an oddly warm hand on his shoulder from behind.

"Kaden, are... are you okay?" he asked, doing his best to keep his own voice steady. "I can't remember if I already thanked you for helping me out of the fire. Even if I did, thank you, again. I probably owe you my life." His total lack of burns might have suggested otherwise, but Cináed just assumed that he'd gotten lucky. "Is ... did the alchemist say ..?" he began, before Fermiah's cries for Illasera interrupted him.

His heart sank. Illasera couldn't be wounded too. Or worse. No, he hadn't seen her in the fighting, she'd been safe, right?

Richter stood with the alchemist, looking over Ricard. He had seen many battlefield wounds in his lifetime, so he wasn't too phased. He listened as the alchemist berated Adion, and he tried to think of another solution.

"Yes, typically the only way to get an arrow like this out is surgery, or to push it all the way through. And I'm guessing that might be impossible to do due to the placement. Not to mention, if we did safely remove the arrow, he could bleed out."

Richter thought for a moment, before proposing an idea he wasn't sure was even possible. He was no doctor, after all.

"What about a blood transfusion of sorts? For example, what if we could get my blood pumping in his veins to compensate for what he would be losing? I don't think I've ever heard of such a thing, and I'm certainly not a medical man, but I know that I can spare it if it's possible."

Adion seemed to have an epiphany. "Mam, do you have any honey flax? I can make ink out of that, rune a bandage, and remove the arrow. I'd say it's the best chance we have." All he needed was a honey flax base and he could make a healing rune. From there, he could apply it, and with a touch of blood to the ink, it would help to both give Ricard more blood, and to heal the wound.

Mataiya was soon distracted from her thoughts by individuals fleeing through the woods on top of horses. She didn’t care about the men themselves, but was more concerned about what they had in their arms. They kidnapped people from this paradise and stole them away from the families and friends. Frowning heavily, she had to remind herself that this wasn’t her fight and that if the locals wanted their missing people back, they would have to go find them. Her eyes drifted away from the Bandits over towards the bloody scene that was displayed in front of her. Why hadn’t she noticed it when she first came in? Oh, right, she was far too busy looking at other things. Chewing on her bottom lip, ‘Taiya slid off of her horse and patted the mare on the neck. It seemed like an inopportune time to ask for assistance and a place to stay, but she definitely couldn’t just stand around like a complete idiot, right?

Sniffing, she noted fires being put up on the harvest fields and Mataiya couldn’t help but twitch. Silently willing her body not to react, the stranger was glad when she was distracted by another stranger whispering to her to watch her back and that the bad might return to finish what it started. Well, that wasn’t exactly what she said, but it was close enough. Nodding towards the woman, Callahan released Lycinthia with full knowledge the horse would return when she was needed. The flames that hadn’t been put out still called to her and the young female couldn’t help but walk towards them. The smell quickly faded into the background as it was something that she was quite used to.

What happens if you’re on fire and you have to pee? It turns into a flame thrower…

Rolling her eyes at the thought that randomly appeared in her mind, Mataiya returned her attention to the fire that still seemed to be burning and quietly called it into her body. The crimson stone that was incased in silver around her neck seemed to glow brightly for a moment before it faded into its normal shade once more. Whatever flames remained throughout the village were suddenly sucked into the stone and into her body, causing it to glow once again; just for a moment. Once she was finished, she dropped to a knee, knowing that anyone that burned a village and kidnapped people needed to be stopped.

“Alright….” Raising back up, she walked over towards where the woman that had warned her was currently asking what happened. She hoped that they didn’t notice what she did with the flames because the last thing she needed was questions asked.

"Yeah, and can we help?"

A slight wheeze whenever he inhaled told a tale of a least a couple cracked ribs. Thankfully the bone had not broken clean through his lung but was too close for comfort. Several shallow gashes another his sides and chest, along with the one cut above his brow that was not slowing its flow of precious blood in the least. Add to that several bruises as gifts from those club wielding psychopaths and that left Rand feeling like quite the "Hero".

Rand always wondered after a fight why he even bothered to get involved in the fray when he knew it would effect the job he was on. Sure, they had ambushed him in the hovel, but after dispatching the first attacker he could have scurried away and his in the forest until it was over. With all this commotion, he was certain his quarry either left the town in a panic, or perhaps was even involved with the attack and retreated with the other marauders.

With a wince, Rand took off his traveling pack and began to root around in it. After a few minutes of fumbling through it's contents Rand finally managed to retrieve a somewhat clean shirt to act as cloth and a bottle of strong brandy. At he tried to uncork the brandy his fingers slipped and the bottle fell to the ground.

"Add in a couple dislocated fingers too" Rand mumbled to himself and wiped the blood from his eyes, though it did not seem to clear his vision at all. Grabbing the fingers Rand gave a sharp tug and an accompanying cry of pain as the points popped back into place.

The witch nodded to Cinead. "We have only just arrived, but we will do what we can to help."

She turned to Amnon, lowering the lantern. "Find some way to make yourself useful. I'm sure I might have what they need to help the boy."

Amnon had barely finished closing the lids of the fallen man's eyes when the woman who had given him a lift spoke to him.

"Useful huh? Doubt there's much of anything I can do now for these people....but I've got an idea. See if you can't get the village elders to start organizing the bodies...."

"There is always more to do. They need to take care of the living, now. You should make sure that everyone fallen is actually dead, perhaps." snapped the witch. Organizing the bodies! The people could hardly organize themselves after the attack! She strode over to the Andalusian, checking the saddle bags for the herbs and medicines she often carried with her on journeys. She untethered one of the bags and rushed inside of the tavern.

"Who is the injured one?" she asked as she moved past several people. "I may be able to help."
Amnon sighed and shook his head.

No need to be so rude...

Well, she had a point, everyone was frantic enough. Expecting any kind of calm was a pipe dream. He rose to his feet and looked around the fields, surveying just how many bodies lie injured and groaning, and even more were silently still.

There's no way I can do this on my own though...

As he scanned his surroundings he noticed a woman mounted on a work horse, she seemed to have just happened upon the half razed town not a moment ago, like him.

"Excuse me," He called. "Would you mind helping me?"

Eve was lingering outside, trying to work out the best way to help. Blood-stained and smoke streaked inhabitants who she knew by name were moving past looking shell-shocked, and the previously hiding villagers had begun to emerge into the drizzle. It felt surreal. Never had she witnessed something like this.

The sound of retching joined the shouts and cries, of which most notable was Fermiah’s. She noticed the stranger who was spilling out the content of his stomach was accompanied Cináed, looking more than a little dishevelled.

Evelune tugged the tired horse to a standstill as a woman dressed in elegant silk crossed her path. So many outsiders littered the village. She scowled.

Time to help deal with the bodies.

"Excuse me," A man called in her direction "Would you mind helping me?"

She couldn’t help but snort as she swung a leg over the neck of the horse and dropped to the ground. Turning, she saw that this was yet another outsider.

“Help you?” Ironic. She pulled the reins over the horses head. “What would it be? A torch to burn more of our land? My horse to flee on?” Her tone was filled with sourness as she eyed him over, glaring through the falling rain. Plain enough, most definitely not a bandit, yet she did not feel guilty for being so hostile.

"I'm fine," Kaden grumbled as he stood and wiped his mouth. "Just in shock. And it's fine, I couldn't just leave someone to burn alive. I had a chance and I took it, even if saving someone was the only good I was in that fight I'm at least pleased I could do something."

His hair was growing wet and making his head cold; he couldn't tell whether his nose was running or if it was simply rain falling down his face. Either way, he didn't like it, so he turned back towards the tavern.

"I didn't hear what she said about him," he continued. "I think he'll be okay, though. The Gods have blessed him, he's still alive at the very least and that's an accomplishment itself."
He could have talked more, but Fermiah's yelling was getting louder.
"Where is my daughter? Has anybody seen Illasera?!"
On and on his questioning went, as he literally grabbed people by the shoulders and looked them in the eye so they could not possibly lie to him. He got no result. No-one seemed to know where she wa-
"Elder!" A farmhand called out, rushing to him. "I've just been around to check that the people who work the crops were all safe and some of them haven't shown up. Then a child came out of hiding in a woven barrel and said that the outsiders had taken them with sacks over their heads and managed to escape on horseback before anybody even knew what was happening!"
"And my daughter is one of them?" The Elder asked, clenching fists so hard his palms began to bleed. "You people did this!" He cried, reaching out to point at the outsiders gathered. "You just couldn't leave our valley alone, you just had to bring more and more of you in until the scum of your foreign world followed you! My son is dying, my daughter kidnapped; I can't stand to bear the thought of what is happening to her.. What WILL happen to her! LEAVE! Take your violent ways and disgusting cultures with you! Stop bringing tragedy to our home!"
Fermiah was clearly in a state that could hardly be considered normal. His sense of reason seemed to have gone, replaced by fear, shock and a lot of anger. He could barely figure out how he was supposed to handle the entire mess, let alone fix it. So he gave up, turning and fleeing back to his estate so he could spend the rest of the night in the confines of his home without saying another word.
-
Inside the tavern, the Alchemist was repeatedly shaking her head. "I'm not sure. I've dealt with accidents before, of course, but never such a violent injury. Still, I believe we may be able to save him if we are skilled and the Gods grace him with the strength he needs to survive."

She turned to Adion, narrowing an eye. "Fair enough, boy. Go back to my shop, check the storage for your honey flax. I can't afford to wait for you, we have to act now, but if you can get your rune working in time we can certainly give it a try. Don't expect my stock to be of high quality and do not expect enough doses to allow wastefulness."
"As for now, we need to sit him up. Gather damp cloths and sheets, we need to take a hammer and force the arrow through until it leaves an exit wound. Then we can remove it. It will be a risky job, we will need to apply extreme pressure to both sides so that we can limit his bloodloss and the hand holding the hammer needs to be steady enough to be straight and true and not go off course and cause us even more of a problem. So far, his bloodloss has been limited due to the arrow, so let us keep it that way. Perhaps if Adion succeeds with his rune on time, we can use that to finish up. If not, we will need hot iron.
This will not be clean."

"W-Wait," grumbled the weak Ricard, who had slowly been regaining consciousness. He had heard everything outside. All of the commotion, all of his father's shouting. Even near death he knew what he had to say and what he had to ask of them.
"Richter... Don't worry about me. Save the people who were taken.. Save my sister and the others. Please.. Before they're tortured or worse. Make sure they come back to us alive..."

As he finished, he passed out again.
-
Outside, the weather was getting worse. The rain had washed away the tracks of horses and pools of blood. It had doused the remaining fire, cleansing the street like a gift from those they worshiped. And as though those same gods were striking the ground in anger, the rain mixed with humid air and a furious thunderstorm quickly took shape.

Adion seemed at home sprinting through the driving rains. He did not even bother to try and keep it out of his eyes. Instead, he sprinted at his top speed, quickly reaching the alchemist's hut. With a quick check, he found the honey flax. Just one piece though, as the rest had burned. With the same great speed as he entered, he left.

Bursting in through the door to the inn, Adion found a small, but empty, table. He then began to pull his alchemy and ink kits out of his bag. Quickly grinding the honey flax, but putting the seeds off to the side, Adion put the powder into two piles. One pile would be for the quick ruin to stabilize Ricard, the other the one that would save Ricard.

As the short time span for the quick rune grew shorter, Adion added water and a few other components of base ink. Then he pulled out a thick brush and added some ground focusing dust to make the rune burn faster and stronger. The drawing of the rune was done in about 15 seconds, even less for the rune to reach Ricard as the arrow was removed.

From there, Adion sat back down at the work station that he had made. He had made himself a window of about 2 hours. He then began to measure the parts of the ink precisely. It would take him about half a hour to make the ink, and a hour to get the rune done.

Richter listened closely as the Alchemist spoke, trying to figure out a way he could help. Right after Adion ran fervently out the door, he was surprised to see Ricard sit up and speak.

He took in every word, listening carefully to hear every word the boy could choke out.

"Richter... Don't worry about me. Save the people who were taken.. Save my sister and the others. Please.. Before they're tortured or worse. Make sure they come back to us alive..."

Richter realized this was probably how he could help the most. The brutish mercenary felt up to the task, and also felt responsible to do so.

He gripped Ricard's hand tightly to grab his attention, "Ricard, don't worry, I'll bring those people home. Your sister will be okay, and that's not a hope, it's a promise." He released his grip and wasted no time going out to the stables and saddling his horse, passing the Elder, and hearing his cries.

With his horse ready, Richter climbed on and prepared to head in the direction the bandits fled. They had a head start, but on a running horse, Richter figured he would be able to make up for lost time.

Aldarine had done what she could to help Adion and the village Alchemist keep Ricard alive. Stemming the blood flow, getting the damp cloth.

"I have potions that will keep the boy asleep as you both take out the arrow. If he wakes up during, it will be hard on him." she said, waiting for Adion to finish the runes. She sorted through her supplies and took out a white vial filled with a mysterious liquid. She then attempted to sit Ricard up and have him drink it. It was difficult, but not impossible to do this to a person who was unconscious.

The witch could only imagine all of the violence that had just gone on. This was not a poor town, but no rich town, either. There were many other places more worthy of being raided. Places more rich, with more ignorant people. From the number of dead outside, Aldarine wondered just what coaxed the raiders to come to Elor. One villager had been yelling at all of the outsiders about bringing misfortune.

Was there a traitor among them? Some sort of disagreement? The witch did not know. Not yet.