The Warrior and The Boy
Richard felt a searing pain in the back of his shoulder and fell forward. His eyes remained open for a few seconds more, long enough to see a torch arch through the air and land in the thatching of his families tavern. The first flames began to lick at the thatch as darkness finally took him, his face resting on the soft grass where he had fallen. The soft laughter of the three men behind him was the last thing he heard.
They had arrived separately hours before. The Inn had been quiet at the time. A recent rain storm had kept travelers off the road. Only a few other patrons were in the Inn when the last had arrived and Richard had been tasked with serving them as he had finished rolling a fresh barrel of ale from the pantry. They had talked in hush tones and had gone silent every time he had approached. But Richard had learned what he could of them.
One man had a scar down the side of his face. His armor was dented in places and stained in others. Richard had instantly marked him as some one who was no stranger to combat or death. A dangerous man, if he had ever seen one.
The second man wore finer clothes and Richard had caught a glint of chainmail underneath his cloak. The man kept shifting uncomfortably and the mail had enough shine to it to let Richard know that it was rarely worn. Based on the livery, and the fancy hawk insignet on the mans ring, he had marked this man as a Noble of some sort.
The third man wore leather armor under his cloak and a bow was wrapped in deerskin to protect it from the elements. All of his clothing was dark and he kept his hood up at all times, shrouding his face in darkness. A hunter, Richard had thought, perhaps disfigured from an encounter with a wild animal.
Richard had gone to tend to the horses and was up in the hayloft, shifting a bale around, when he heard voices. He didn't mean to eavesdrop but he couldn't help it. And he wished he hadn't, over hearing the conversation as it was. He waited for them to leave before deciding to make his escape. But the cloaked one, he had been waiting, along with the other two. He tried to plead with them, that he wouldn't tell anyone. But they would have none of it. They were going to kill him and his family.
Richard had ran, back towards the Inn, when the soft twang of a bowstring preceded the thump of arrow into flesh. Richard had gone sprawling face first into the mud, a fire burning in his shoulder. He heard the men behind him laughing as they lit and torch and set fire to the Inn, having locked its outer door. And that was when the darkness had taken him.
If this interests you, I am looking for a female counterpart, a female warrior of a sort who has been wronged by the scar-face man in the past and has been trying to track him down ever since. PM me for further information.
An expedition to the west, to explore new lands and bring back untold riches. What could possibly go wrong?
Dargoth was thrilled to finally see land on the horizon after weeks of sailing with out a single sighting. Food supplies and fresh water were running low and he felt like he had salt from sea-spray all over his body. They itched his skin raw and he could not wait to bathe once more! His weapons and armor - foreign lands weren't safe were they? - were safely stored below in soft deerskins that were waterproof.
The sighting of land made all his pains and worries go away and he felt a renewed sense of energy among the crew. But not all was going to go well. Storm clouds gathered on the horizon and soon whipped the waves into a frenzy. He basked in the rain, mouth open, letting it wash the salt from his skin and fill his mouth with fresh, cool water. It was heavenly, until the storm took a turn for the worse.
Rogue waves washed men overboard and he lashed himself to the deck. Powerful winds snapped the mizen-mast and the main, sending more sailors to their death. The rest became a blur as the wind, rain, and waves battered and pounded the ship. A sickening crunch that jolted every bone in his body suggested they had run aground but the waves continued to batter the ship to pieces. It wasn't long before he was knocked out cold.
He awoke, sprawled on a sandy beach, wreckage all about him. He seemed to be in one piece, but where were the others?
For this one, I'd quite like some one to play the woman in the image. Some sort of amazon-type of tribe vibe going on there.