Richter Lazarus's Story

Richter was surprised when such a number of outlaws revealed themselves. He wasn't too nervous, he had faced things much more powerful than bandits in his lifetime; although the burning crops and unprepared people were certainly a challenge. Adion's spell had been effective, unfortunately this meant that the bandits were charging people like Richter and other melee combatants.

The first charged up to him, swinging his sword. Richter blocked the attack and hit the man in the side of the head with the hilt of his greatsword, stunning him. He used the extra time to forcefully kick in the man's knee, causing him to fall to the ground, kneeling. Richter made a wide swing with his sword, directed at the bandit's neck, finishing the deed. He slightly regretted doing so, he had just arrived in the village, and was getting to know the people there. He didn't want to come across as a brutal adventurer, even if he sort of was one.

Then the horsemen came out. Richter considered grabbing his own horse; but there wasn't time for that, and he didn't have appropriate weapons for mounted combat anyway. One of the horsemen set his sights on him, and starting galloping his way. Richter quickly pulled out his crossbow, firing a bolt aimed at the shoulder of the bandit's right arm. The bolt hit it's target, just managing to pierce the armor, and causing the man to drop his weapon.

Richter tossed the crossbow aside and dived out of the way of the charging horse. He picked up his sword and took a swing at the animal's leg as it passed by. Injured and off balance, the horse fell over, knocking the heavily armored outlaw to the ground. He rushed up to the grounded man, raising his sword high above his head, and giving him the same fate as the last bandit he dispatched.

Chaos was much too tidy a term for what Rand saw around him as he came within sight of the village proper. Fires in almost every field, several houses had also caught flame from embers carried by the wind. Some of the villagers had begun to fight back but most were untrained and were falling easily to the much better armed invasion force. Rand took a deep breath and felt the blood rushing through his body and caught his breath from his long run.

Time seemed to slow as Rand turned his gaze wide and took in all the factors. Many men were armed with bows and blades but many were very lightly armored, a fact that Rand could exploit. Also Rand could see enemy reinforcements coming from the forest, three on horseback, they were the more dangerous of the lot. With the mobility of the horses they could cause the most damage.

Rand began to move towards them to intercept when first one broke away to deal with something near the burning fields. Then another went down from a bolt, whether friendly fire or otherwise Rand counted himself lucky. That left the last one to him then. The man astride the horse did not take well to his friend's predicaments and turned his steed as if to make his way back to the forest. This plan was cut short as Rand leaped into the air just short of the horse, solidly planting both feet on the man's chest in a full body kick.

Rand's breath blasted out of his body as he landed on his back, but his foe was far worse off. The rider landed in a tangled heap, his legs sticking out at awkward angles, clearly broken. Rand made his way to the fallen man just as another dozen men surrounded him.

"These odds.... are not very good" Rand mumbled to himself then grabbed the whimpering rider and held him as a hostage to protect against arrows. "One more step gentlemen and your friend here dies" Rand said in the most threatening voice he could muster. Laughter greeted his threat and several men tried to spit on him.

"Great, looks like this guy was a nobody after all" Rand thought to himself and sighed audibly. "To hell with you all then" Rand snarled and let the man fall. His decent was ended by Rand's knee coming up to crack him right in the side of his head. At the same moment Rand came down on the opposite side with his elbow, cracking the man's head open like a rotten melon. No more laughter came from the ranks surrounding Rand. Only the solid look of horror was evident on each man's face which slowly changed to rage.

"Lets see how many of you I can end before you finally manage to tire me" Rand commented and finished with a maniacal laugh, his stance low and ready to fight until a blade finally plunged into his back. Hey, if he was lucky maybe he could even take them all down before he died. With the clang of sword on shield, the first dead man charged at Rand.

Richter brought his sword back up, and ran over to grab his crossbow. He quickly scanned the area around him, and saw an unarmed young man surrounded by about a dozen of the marauders.

"Damn kid is gonna get himself killed!" He said under his breath as he readied himself. He quickly charged, and attacked one from behind, letting out a battle cry to try and distract at least some of them. They had all turned around as Richter came to blows with another.

"Hopefully he'll return the favor." Richter thought to himself, hoping he had created a good opening for the stranger, and that they would be able to take out these remaining bandits.

"The knees and elbows" the voice drifted through Rand's mind as he struggled to defend himself against so many attackers at once. Whipping his left arm around Rand blocked a sword chopping in from the side with a shower of sparks. A subtle twist of his arm wrapped Rand's fingers around the wrist of the swordsman and wrenched hard enough to dislocate a few fingers and make the man cry out in pain. "These are the hardest and most durable points in a man's body.. and with practice can become a deadly weapon". Rand spun along the injured man's trapped arm and rammed his elbow into his gut, sending the man doubling over and coming right down to catch a knee straight between the eyes.

"One more down" Rand said, his voice a little raspy. He had to be sure to look up Yin if he ever made it out of here. That old man may have been a stubborn teacher, but his advice was always sound. He did not believe in finesse so much as effectiveness, a belief that Rand shared. Shaking his head Rand focused on the other eight problems around him....wait...no.... only four now?

It was not until another one of the marauders fell with a cry and another fighter joined the fray. "An enemy of my enemy is my friend for now i suppose" Rand said and took full advantage of the distraction his new ally had supplied. Rand took another deep breath and focused his breathing. The beating of his heart grew louder in his ears, its tempo increasing. It was a little trick Rand had discovered some time ago, though he had no idea how it worked it was the true reason he had lived this long.

In a flash Rand charged ahead and low to the ground. The four remaining men charged him as a unit thinking to take him down in his suicidal charge. The first sword came at him in a straight thrust, fast enough that it should have run Rand through the chest. The entire exchange was as if Rand were moving in molasses. With a simple step Rand avoided the blade by a few hairs breadth and as he stepped past kicked at the back of the man's knee. Nothing damaging, but enough to stagger him as Rand continued evade his friends. His true goal was not to attack, but to get past them to his new Ally.

Rand quickly backstepped and was soon back-to-back with this stranger. A quick glance out of the corner of his eye showed him armed with a sword and also a crossbow. A man of many talents Rand supposed.

"A fine evening for a stroll my friend" Rand said in his usual sarcastic tone. "Any plans to getting rid of these men who would interfere with my stargazing?"

Richter glanced over at Rand, now standing beside him.

"A fine evening for a stroll my friend" The man said in his a sarcastic tone. "Any plans to getting rid of these men who would interfere with my stargazing?"

"This isn't a time for jokes," Richter thought to himself. Without responding, he just gave a nod before charging the men once more. He brought his sword up, and swung down on one of them. His attack was blocked, so Richter responded with a swift kick to his opponent's nether regions. The man doubled over as Richter once again raised his sword and brought it down upon the bandit, successfully this time.

One of the marauders used this time to sneak up on Richter, forcefully swinging his blade at him. This caught Richter by surprise, his heavy armor was enough to protect him although it did set him of balance.

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!"

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.

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."

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!)

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."

"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.

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.

Cináed nodded his head to Kaden, offering a small smile. "Well, like I said. I owe you my life. If you ever need anything, then I'm yours to help. And that's an oath." The youth nodded his head firmly. Swearing oaths was something that warriors did. It was an honour thing, and he was fairly sure it was compulsory along the way if you wanted to be someone great. Heroes always kept their word, and he supposed he should start by saying words to keep to.

"It's a relief to hear about Ricard..." the young blonde sighed sadly, "I've known him... well, forever. I... I've known everyone here my whole life. I don't even... I don't even want to think about who might have died tonight."

At that moment, the calls of the farmhand addressing the mourning Elder drew Cináed's attention back to thoughts of Illasera. She'd been taken? Kidnapped? But that meant she was alive, that there was a chance of saving her. The youth's amber eyes set in determination.

"Kaden, you get back to the tavern and out of the rain. It's... probably best if you keep your head down while people calm down, they're... gonna be angry at anyone from outside the valley, I think. Everyone's upset and not thinking right, trying to find someone to blame." he said, "I'm... I need to go do something. I'll catch up to you."

Cináed turned and broke off into the village at a run, making a beeline for his home. He stopped just outside, listening for sounds of his parents within. It sounded like they were having an argument. He couldn't make out the details, but he thought they must be trying to figure out where he was. But they were safe. They were alive. That's all he'd needed to know. He turned from the window and made his way around to the side of the house, where his parents' mare was stabled in a single small stall. "Shh, Bella," he whispered as she whinnied when he pulled the gate open, "Don't let mother and father hear you."

He hastily saddled Bella up and led her out into the wet, much to her displeasure. He deftly clambered into the saddle and pulled his cloak around himself over his armour, raising the hood to hide his face. Then he spurred the mare into motion, starting her off at a trot that rapidly accelerated as he rode through the village streets.

People stumbled out of the way with surprised and irritated yells where he passed, galloping straight towards the fields and the forest beyond. His eyes fell on another man on the trail a short distance out of the village, and he directed Bella to draw up behind him. "Hey!" he yelled to Richter, "Hey! You're going after the captives, right? Well, I'm going with you!"

Richter glanced over his shoulder as he heard someone calling after him. He looked the person over; he looked pretty young, and was around average size, perhaps a tad small. He was armed, and probably capable.

"Well come on then!" He called back, letting him catch up. "Stick close to me, and play it safe. Hopefully we can get everyone home safe, including ourselves."