Roleplay Forums > Canelux > Corval Basin > Plains of Bohar > Help, bandits! [P]
Narrator

Character Info
Name: The Narrator
Age: 81
Alignment: TN
Race: Human, or am I?
Gender: Male
Class: Smooth-voiced narrator
Silver: 1020
The two boys immediately drop their weapons and put their hands in the air. Bow boy confirms that Carl’s farmstead is their hideout, and tells you that there was some kind of operation going on just a few hours before. Their ‘supervisor’ was grumbling about being stuck with them while the others were doing some actual banditry.

Dagger kid apologises profusely, telling you that they never wanted to become bandits. But they overheard their families, they heard what their fate would be if the bandits weren’t stopped. And they had no hope of defeating the bandits before you appeared.

They chose their new career of banditry before they’d be homeless and without possessions. They knew that they were wrong once they made the choice, though. but once they offered to join, the bandits wouldn’t let them leave. If they ran, their families would pay with their lives.

You nod and sheath your sword, and the boys run off to the village. Their weapons are left on the ground, along with the dead bandit.

Continuing to follow the dirt path west, you eventually pass the lightning-struck tree and take the smaller gravel path into the fields. Soon enough the farmstead appears on the horizon, the roof of the farm peeking out from the high, unkept grass.

Once you get near enough, you get a good view of the place and find out that it’s bigger than you expected. The farmstead actually has a little recreational area around it, as opposed to just being a building surrounded by crops. It’s just one floor, but it’s a tall building and seems spacious enough.



As you approach [from the path below in the picture], you see that there are also two other houses. They are almost like guardhouses, situated on the side of the road with a good view of anyone trying to reach Carl’s farmstead from this side.

One of them borders a fenced in grassland with three horses grazing, this wooden barn apparently repurposed as living quarters. On the other side there’s a small cottage, probably once the house of a farmhand or other helper of the farm.

In the distance you also see a grain silo, but you disregard the decrepid building which is clearly no longer in use. Not even by the bandits, you reckon, as the rotten wood wouldn’t even be able to support one person.

Unfortunately, the temperature and nice sunny weather hasn't chased many to seek shelter inside. The farmstead is crawling with people, most of which are bandits.

Someone is leaning against the cottage, standing in the shadow of the building. As the shadow is cast to the left, he facing away from you and isn’t watching the part of the road you’re on right now. Not that he seems to be paying much attention.

Two more are standing near the barn, occasionally glancing at the horses but otherwise talking loudly and without a care in the world. A fourth bandit is lying under a tree in the centre of the farmstead, sitting with his back against the trunk and his cap over his eyes. There’s no way to be sure, but he’s most likely asleep. Number five is standing near the shed of Carl’s farm, sitting on the cart without a horse with a straw of hay in his mouth and a whittling knife with some wood in his hand.

It’s the last few people outside that make your blood boil, though. In the cabbage patch between Carl’s farm and the barn are four people working the land, all covered in dirt and clearly here against their will. The last bandit you can see occasionally shouts something at them, you can’t overhear it but it’s probably something that a slave driver would shout while using their whip. Seems like the bandits are keeping prisoners for labour.

Hello there,

I

am the Narrator.

Allow my smooth voice to shape the fantasies in your head into marvellous landscapes, thrilling adventures and touching relationships. Let my silky words carry you to Nevaliir and wrap your mind into a snuggly cover of wonder and amazement. I am the voice in your head, the solid foundation of your imagination, your guidance to your own dreams.

For I,

I am the Narrator.
Sir Isaac

Character Info
Name: Sir Knight Isaac Bartholomew Casnothal the Second of house Casnothal
Age: 32
Alignment: LG
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Class: Knight
Silver: 392
[Tutorial: Combat like this is quite variable depending on the approach. Easiest would be if the PC tells the Narrator what they’ll do, but not yet do it so that the narrator can narrate what happens and how difficult things will be. If you’re using stealth, you can choose to just kill the mentioned foes one by one, but please roll a d20 for success or only kill the ones that context suggests are an easy kill.]

Sir Isaac stops walking, considering the situation and contemplating what would be the best approach. Six against one, that is a tough situation even for well-trained knight facing a bunch of bandits. Flanking alone would see to that.

He was no rogue, though. To strike from the shadows, to kill someone in such an unhonourable manner, it was beneath him. He would walk into this camp and fight his way through. It was the honourable way. He would have to keep moving and he’d have to use any advantage he could get, but he would strike these men down face to face.

Sir Isaac’s hand clamps around the hilt of his sword, his knuckles growing white under his greaves. No, he couldn’t do that. This wasn’t just his own honour that was at stake, the lives of these kidnapped villagers were also his responsibility. And if he would just walk in, those foul bandits might take those innocent people hostage or kill them to prevent them from running away.

His pride couldn’t risk their life, it would be dishonourable rather than righteous to do so.

Sir Isaac turns to the side and walks into the grasslands. If he hunches over a bit, he all but vanishes in it. His armour didn’t exactly allow for stealth, but this should keep him hidden and unnoticed from a distance.

Crouch-walking through the grass and grain, not concerning himself with the mess of grass streaks it left on his clothes, Sir Isaac circles around to the side of the farmstead where the farmers were forced to work. Unseen, he watches the situation for a bit before standing up and walking forward.

The slave-driving bandit is the first to spot him. The farmers are next. Sir Isaac doesn’t care, unsheathing his sword and calmly walking forward. Without looking away from the bandit, he says:

“Run into the fields and don’t stop running until you reach the village. I’ll hold them off.”
Narrator

Character Info
Name: The Narrator
Age: 81
Alignment: TN
Race: Human, or am I?
Gender: Male
Class: Smooth-voiced narrator
Silver: 1020
As you appear from the shrubbery, the bandit doesn’t notice the mud on your boots nor does he laugh at the grass seeds and grains hanging in your hair. No, he is captured by the fire in your eyes, encaptured by your determined gaze focussed on nothing but him.

After a few seconds, only after the farmers hear your words and start running for the fields, does he react. “Oi!” His hands raise up, the arrow he was already holding quickly placed on the bow and the string pulled back. It’s a bullet point arrow so it wouldn’t leave much more than a shallow dent on your armour, but it can still sting quite badly if it were to be shot into a less armoured area.

The other bandits don’t seem to react immediately, the slave driver’s shout not much different from the ones he had been belching before. The man sleeping under the tree doesn’t stir and the one sitting on the cart doesn’t bother looking over his shoulder.

The two near the barn however see you as well. Alarmed by your appearance rather than the shout, one of them quickly reaches for his sword and the other grabs his spear after a moment of confusion about his friend’s sudden reaction.

You can’t see him from this vantage point, but you can hear the lad near the cottage move too. Probably alarmed by the guys at the barn, he runs inside the cottage.

In a matter of seconds, once the sound of swords clashing and men dying fills the air, the other two men will notice you. But for now, you face four men in multiple waves.

With that said and done though, another second passes and the slave driver bandit finishes aiming his bow. His arrow flies straight at you with high speed.

[Challenge rating: Normal, tough if not hurrying.]

Hello there,

I

am the Narrator.

Allow my smooth voice to shape the fantasies in your head into marvellous landscapes, thrilling adventures and touching relationships. Let my silky words carry you to Nevaliir and wrap your mind into a snuggly cover of wonder and amazement. I am the voice in your head, the solid foundation of your imagination, your guidance to your own dreams.

For I,

I am the Narrator.
Sir Isaac

Character Info
Name: Sir Knight Isaac Bartholomew Casnothal the Second of house Casnothal
Age: 32
Alignment: LG
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Class: Knight
Silver: 392
Sir Isaac blocks with his arm guard, the arrow deflecting off to the side. It left a scratch on the polish that he knew would bother him to no avail for the coming days, but for now he couldn’t concern himself with it.

The bandit before him wouldn’t be an issue any more, Sir Isaac could cross the distance and strike the man down before another arrow would touch the bow. But he was on a very tight timetable here. Four foes for certain, six in the end, perhaps even a dozen depending on how many are hiding inside.

He would have to hurry, ensure that the situation wouldn’t turn against him. Even if it meant a few more scratches, rushing things was a necessity.

Sir Isaac accelerates into a rush, running at the bowman and striking him down. Splinters and blood fly around when his sword carves through the bow and leaves a long, lethal slash across the man’s chest. At least, Isaac hopes that the slash is lethal, for he had no time to spare on a coup de grace.

“Damn it, get him!” The swordsman shouts as he stops running and takes a defensive position. “Intruder!”

Isaac curses under his breath. Seems like these men knew that they had to swarm him. “Blasted, foul knave! Have at thee!”

Sir Isaac runs forward, intending to charge through the man’s defences and catching the counter-strike with his armour. But the spearman was ready too, and readied his spear.

Sir Isaac strikes with a horizontal slash, an effective technique that didn’t leave one ill-defended. The swordsman jumps back causing the slash to swing wild, and only with pure skill and luck can Sir Isaac redirect the momentum of his blade to deflect the spear thrust coming at him.

Damn it, these two actually knew how to work together. A defensive swordsman and an offensive spearman behind him, a simple yet effective strategy. The swordsman just needed to block and deflect, and the spearman would attack while Isaac’s defences were left open to attack. It would even allow two average soldiers to face a skilled warrior like him.

Letting go off the sword with his left hand, Sir Isaac strikes at the swordsman with a much weaker swing while his left hand quickly grabs the shield on his back and pulls it out. His sword clashes against the bandit’s and causes both blades to bounce off one another with sparks flying.

The spear lunges at him, and Sir Isaac slaps it to the side with his kite shield. It’s quickly reeled in again, ready for another attack just as quickly as Sir Isaac is ready to defend.

The swordsman readjusts the grip on his sword, preparing to fight more offensively. He understood the situation, that Sir Isaac was planning to fight him with his right hand only while countering the spearman with his left.

And this time, the swordsman doesn’t wait for a counter. He lunges forward, a simple yet effective thrust at Sir Isaac’s abdomen. The spearman thrusts as well, aiming at his shoulder.

Sir Isaac sneers, not liking his next move. It was a bit too cunning for his sense of pride, but the honourable way of fighting wouldn't lead to a victory fast enough. And he had but little time to spare on these two.

Jumping back half a step, Sir Isaac throws the kite shield at the spearman’s face. The spearman immediately raises his hands to deflect the missile in reflex, the spear swishing as it rose to the sky and the shield causing a mild thump as it bounced off the man’s fingers.

The swordsman’s thrust goes wild, leaving him wide open. As much as he knew a few techniques well, this man’s footwork wasn’t that adequate. Without his thrust finding some resistance to end into, his body followed and lost its balance.

Sir Isaac steps forward again, his sword slicing just past the swordsman’s neck. Just lightly carving into his neck, the sword stops. Sir Isaac pushes to the side, the blade carving deeper into the sliced open skin and piercing an artery. With the swordsman falling to side, Sir Isaac swings his sword the opposite direction at the spearman.

With his spear still pointed to the sky and his face in the natural reflex of glancing away with closed eyes, the spearman was left completely defenceless without his sword wielding friend. The sword carves into his right shoulder, injuring him beyond using his spear proficiently. With a heavy kick of Sir Isaac’s armoured boots in the man’s abdomen, he was sent sprawling on the ground.

Sir Isaac looks to the cottage and then to the tree. The fight with the two had only taken about fifteen seconds, but that was an eternity on the battlefield. The man near the cottage hadn’t reappeared yet, but the guy who was sleeping under the tree had since reared to life again. Sir Isaac runs towards him, sword ready to strike.

The man reaches for his weapon and tries to get to his feet at the same time. Sir Isaac considers letting him get ready first, for there was no honour in striking down an unarmed man, but this thug was no honourable man himself.

A single downward strike separates the man’s left shoulder from his neck, causing blood to spray up. He looks terrified as he screams and looks up at Sir Isaac, but this view is but a flash as Sir Isaac immediately turns around to face the next challenge.

“No honour on the battlefield, no mercy for the wicked.” Sir Isaac sighed, his words only half directed at the dying man behind him. “May you find peace in the next life, and forgo making the same mistakes in it.”
Narrator

Character Info
Name: The Narrator
Age: 81
Alignment: TN
Race: Human, or am I?
Gender: Male
Class: Smooth-voiced narrator
Silver: 1020
Blood splashes up all the way to the leaves above you as the sleepy bandit dies. Blood drops fall down on the grass like rain, slow and lazy. You take a step forward to be spared the horrific downfall, looking at the two men appearing from the cottage.

The lad who ran inside just a minute ago is now wielding a hayfork, a simple weapon but judging from the carves and scratches around the tips it has been sharpened to be as deadly as any spear. The boy behind him, barely in his twenties as well, clutches a woodcutter's axe in both hands.

The man on the cart behind you stirs awake. He runs to the shed and disappears behind it, only to reappear in a few second with a bow in hand. He places a club against the shed, ready to be picked up for close combat, and draws an arrow from his quiver.

The first bandit you’ve slain pants heavily, turning onto his back while grasping at his wounds. He’s not fighting any time soon, but he’s not dying quickly either. The spearman is still clutching his stomach from your kick, his shoulder looking bad but his condition perhaps good enough for him to get up and use the knife on his belt.

The biggest threat however is the one you didn’t see. Not until you hear a horrid scream do you look back at the grass fields from whence you came to see a man in leather armour strike down one of the villagers you set free. He whistles and one of the horses quickly gallops over. It jumps over the fence and slows down to wait for his owner at the edge of the lush grassland.

The ranger bandit doesn’t bother retrieving the throwing axe he used to kill the villager, instead walking to his horse and taking the morning star on the horse’s saddle. Jumping on the horse’s back, he rears it to turn to you and with a single soft kick he sends it into a gallop straight for you.

[d20: 6]
The man near the shed aims his bow and fires. Letting go much too quickly in his adrenaline, the arrow goes wild and doesn’t even come near you.

[d20: 20]
The riding ranger on the other hand is clearly an experienced rider and his horse well-trained. With his horse charging at you fearlessly, he swings his morning star above his head ready to strike.

[d20: 11]
The two guys at the cottage look at you and at the rider. They run forward, ready to capitalise on the opening you’ll create by jumping out of the way or blocking the morning star. The hayfork is aimed at you as his wielder runs at you while screaming. The axe-wielder circles around, ready to flank you from the right.

At the very least they don’t seem to be working as one like the last couple you faced, but in the current situation they’ll be just as muhc of a problem.

[Tutorial: We’ll discuss in PMs how much you’d like the adventure to come down to luck and rolls, but the sky is the limit. There can be no rolls, or rolls everywhere. These are actual first rolls, turned into actions. If you want the story to contain rolls, please adhere to them. For example that unfortunate nat20 there ought to be a real issue to you.]

[1 rider, 3 bandits. CR: Tough]

Hello there,

I

am the Narrator.

Allow my smooth voice to shape the fantasies in your head into marvellous landscapes, thrilling adventures and touching relationships. Let my silky words carry you to Nevaliir and wrap your mind into a snuggly cover of wonder and amazement. I am the voice in your head, the solid foundation of your imagination, your guidance to your own dreams.

For I,

I am the Narrator.
Sir Isaac

Character Info
Name: Sir Knight Isaac Bartholomew Casnothal the Second of house Casnothal
Age: 32
Alignment: LG
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Class: Knight
Silver: 392
Blasted, that rider looked like trouble. Sir Isaac stares him and his horse down as they come closer and closer. He hears the screaming of the others behind him, moving in to make things even more difficult for him.

Sir Isaac spins around and looks at the two guys charging at him. If he wanted to stand a chance against the rider, he couldn’t be distracted by other opponents.

MOUSTACHE FLASH!

As he screams, the sun reflects on his moustache and the light is magnified a hundredfold into a bright explosion of whiteness that blinds the two. [Sunburst]

Sir Isaac quickly turns around again to face the rider, who’s a mere few feet away from him at this point. The morning star swings in the air, already in the last swing before coming down upon him.

The swing was good and trying to block it with his sword was risky, so dodging was his only option. Sir Isaac jumps to the side, the morning star grazing his head, and he falls to the ground.

Grunting as he tries to get up in his heavy armour, Sir Isaac turns to Hayfork. The lad was squinting and stopped running, still dazed from the flash. Sir Isaac slaps the hayfork to the side as it’s raised as a quick but indecisive defence, and stabs the lad through the abdomen with his sword.

As he stabs, Sir Isaac looks at the rider and the other two opponents to gage their distance and speed. The horse already stopped and is slowly turning, and the axe wielder wasn’t too close yet. Looking at the archer, Sir Isaac quickly pulls the dying lad like a shield between him and the shed.

An arrow plunges itself into the lad’s shoulder and he grunts in even more pain. Just as Sir Isaac was about to pull out his sword and move into a less open area where he wasn’t exposed to the rider, he feels a burning sensation in his shoulder.

Looking over his shoulder, he sees the handle of a throwing axe obscuring his view of the rider. Not just thrown accurately enough to hit him but even to find the weak spot in his armour, the axe caused quite the flesh wound before it slowly slipped out of the wound and fell to the floor.

From the back of a horse, that was one impressive throw.

Damn it, that was his sword arm. This was bad.

The rider already urged his horse to run, the morning star once again swinging in the air as he rushed towards Sir Isaac. Not enough time to defend, or even pull out his sword.
Sir Isaac lets go of the boy and quickly picks up the throwing axe. It was better than nothing, and expendable. But what he really needed right now was his shield. It was still lying over there, back with the previous two lads he defeated.

As the rider charges past him once again, Sir Isaac jumps out of the way and feels a hot sensation in the wound on his shoulder as he lands roughly on the ground. He quickly gets back on his feet and keeps running.

His shield is right there, lying on the ground. The spearman he threw it at wasn’t, though. The man had since gotten up, drew his dagger and took a fighting pose.
Sir Isaac curses the man’s otherwise admirable tenacity and determination, and charges at him like a bull. Body slamming the man to the ground, the knife breaks on his chest plate and ribs break under his weight.

The spear wielder screams out in pain and agony as blood foams from his mouth, his chest unnaturally bent and dented as Sir Isaac rolls off of him.

He didn’t have time to spare, nor the luxury of a coup de grace, but this time Sir Isaac saw no choice but to help this man out of his agony. His shoulder, his abdomen and now his chest. Slowly dying from those afflictions was too much to put a man through.

With a quick chop the throwing axe slashes through the man’s neck, ensuring a quick death. Sir Isaac picks up his shield with his left hand as he does it, and then scrambles to his feet.

The rider is already upon him, too close. That second he used on the poor lad were capitalised upon fully. Sir Isaac can barely raise his shield as the morning star comes down.
Splinters fly around as the morning star bashes into the shield and causes a chunk of it to break off. One of the splinters leaves a nasty but shallow scratch on Sir Isaac’s temple, the rest falling harmlessly to the ground or getting stuck in his hair.

Given the danger that he was in, the outcome was more than forgiving. Sir Isaac quickly whispers a blessing to the gods as he turns around to face the rider once more.

An unfamiliar throwing axe in the one hand and his battered shield in the other, Sir Isaac prepares for the rider and the two leftover foot soldiers to strike.
Narrator

Character Info
Name: The Narrator
Age: 81
Alignment: TN
Race: Human, or am I?
Gender: Male
Class: Smooth-voiced narrator
Silver: 1020
The rider turns around and laughs at Sir Isaac, clearly taking great pleasure in hunting and slowly whittling down the proud knight's defence and stamina.

“Nice flexible moves you got there, for a buffoon in steel. I think I’ll take that armour from your bloody corpse and give it to Servius as a gift.” He taunts. “You know, after I played with you a little more.”

As the rider taunts you, the axe-wielder cautiously comes closer and the archer by the shed puts a new arrow on his bow.

Fortunately, no new bandits seem to show up from the house. Perhaps unaware of the ruckus outside, or perhaps they didn’t care enough to help their comrades.

The rider kicks the horse’s sides and the horse gallops back into action. Swinging the morning star above his head, the rider rushes you once more.

[d20: 1]

He was too focussed on the price, however, and forgot the basics. As his horse runs into the corpse of the Slavedriver bandit, the poor animal's legs are pulled out from under him and he goes sprawling to the ground. The rider shrieks just as loudly as his horse as he falls forward and loses control of his weapon.

The horse shrieks even louder as the swinging morning star goes haywire and finds its way into the horse’s side. A nasty wound quickly turns the horse’s maple brown into a darkened red.

[d20: 5]

The axe-wielder’s charge fails just as quickly as the rider's, though not as miserably. Distracted by the fall of his senior and intimidated by the sudden screams of pain, he stops walking to look what’s going on.

His axe held in front of him in defence and his legs wide for a stable stance, the lad clearly wasn’t planning to move from his spot for the time being.

[d20: 13]

The archer isn’t as overtaken by the sudden disaster, his arrow aimed and fired at Sir Isaac properly this time.

[Remaining difficulty: Normal]

Hello there,

I

am the Narrator.

Allow my smooth voice to shape the fantasies in your head into marvellous landscapes, thrilling adventures and touching relationships. Let my silky words carry you to Nevaliir and wrap your mind into a snuggly cover of wonder and amazement. I am the voice in your head, the solid foundation of your imagination, your guidance to your own dreams.

For I,

I am the Narrator.
Sir Isaac

Character Info
Name: Sir Knight Isaac Bartholomew Casnothal the Second of house Casnothal
Age: 32
Alignment: LG
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Class: Knight
Silver: 392
Sir Isaac stares down the rider, shield and axe readied to parry the man and strike at the horse as they’d pass. As the horse and rider go down, the pose suddenly feels rather silly. Sir Isaac straightens himself and re-evaluates the situation once again.

The rider’s left leg was stuck underneath the horse, he wasn’t getting up soon. The axe wielder wasn’t moving either. And the archer…

Sir Isaac can barely raise his shield in defence when he sees the arrow coming at him, the arrow whizzing past it but the butt of the missile tapped by the corner of his shield.
The arrow meant for his neck changes directions suddenly and scratches harmlessly on his chest plate, though its rapid spinning causes the butt to smack into his face.

With a red streak forming on his face, Sir Isaac turns to his sword and quickly dashes to it. It’s just a few steps away and the boy so close to death that he doesn’t put up any resistance. Poor lad, his death sure was painful. Unfortunately, Sir Isaac needed to do one more thing before he could put the lad out of his misery.

Taking aim at the axe-wielder, the closest and most open opponent and thus the most likely to get hit, Sir Isaac throws the throwing axe.

Not watching to see if his aim strikes true, he grabs his sword, twists it to put the impaled lad out of his misery, and pulls it out. Sir Isaac turns to the shed and dashes over, using the same cover that the archer was using to prevent another arrow from being fired at him.

The archer quickly drops the bow and picks up the club he prepared for close combat, only for Sir Isaac to pin it against the shed with his shield arm and pierce through the archer’s abdomen with his sword. This time he twists, granting the bandit a swift dead.

The club falls back to the ground, followed by the archer. Sir Isaac turns back to the last two opponents, ready to finish this.
Narrator

Character Info
Name: The Narrator
Age: 81
Alignment: TN
Race: Human, or am I?
Gender: Male
Class: Smooth-voiced narrator
Silver: 1020
The shed reverberates as you bash the club against it, followed not seconds later by the gurgling that would be the archer’s last breath.

Those were not the only sounds that erupt around the shed. The moment that you slammed the club a shriek of surprise and terror could be heard from inside the shed, followed by ragged breath. The voice of a woman, young from the sound of it.

As you turn to the last man standing and the rider who was a formidable foe for a brief moment, you see that the ranger is slowly managing to crawl his way out from under his dying horse. As the horse keeps kicking and flapping around, creating a dangerous situation for the crippled rider, the ranger pulls out his knife and slits the animal’s throat.

An expression of solemn mourning spreads over his face as he sees his steed die, a hard decision but one that had to be made. A few more tugs and his leg is freed.

As he gets up, his will seems broken and his gaze is one of desperation. His left leg is clearly broken, his breath is ragged and his knife doesn’t seem to be meant for combat.
But swinging his heavy morning star over his head wouldn’t be too successful with just one leg supporting him, and he only had the two axes he already used.

He looks at you, the farmstead and then the grasslands behind him. Knowing his chances, he turns around and begins to hobble away.

[d20: 11]

Your axe wasn’t well-aimed, but it struck true. The last opponent managed to quickly raise his axe to block yours, but the collision nearly bumped the weapon from his ahnds and the throwing axe finds flesh to cut into as it falls down. There’s a nasty gash on the axe-wielder’s left arm, not bleeding profusely but certainly more than a mere sting.

[remaining difficulty: Easy]

Hello there,

I

am the Narrator.

Allow my smooth voice to shape the fantasies in your head into marvellous landscapes, thrilling adventures and touching relationships. Let my silky words carry you to Nevaliir and wrap your mind into a snuggly cover of wonder and amazement. I am the voice in your head, the solid foundation of your imagination, your guidance to your own dreams.

For I,

I am the Narrator.
Sir Isaac

Character Info
Name: Sir Knight Isaac Bartholomew Casnothal the Second of house Casnothal
Age: 32
Alignment: LG
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Class: Knight
Silver: 392
Sir Isaac looks at the rider walking away, the axe bearer and then to the shed.

Whomever she was and whatever situation she was in, she was safe inside that shed for the time being. Sir Isaac didn’t like the idea of leaving a damsel in distress be, but she would have to wait for just a little longer.

Sir Isaac walks to the axe-wielder, sword in hand and still standing strong despite the few wounds he sustained. The bloke looks at his arm, the way his hands shook from the wound, and then dropped the axe. He put his hands up in the air, surrendering.

“Stay there.” Sir Isaac says before turning to the grass fields. The hunter was limping as fast as he could, but Sir Isaac walked faster and eventually caught up. Grabbing the man by the collar, he dragged him back to the farm.

Throwing the hunter into the dirt next to the axe-wielder, Sir Isaac kicks away the axe and the throwing axe. His own sword sheathed, he takes off his gauntlets and takes the lad’s wounded arm.

Sir Isaac’s touch becomes a pleasant warm sensation as he invokes what little healing prowess that he knows to [heal] the lad’s wound enough to stop bleeding.

Taking some rope from the barn nearby, Sir Isaac binds the ranger’s hands together and then does the same with the other guy. With the two men bound together back to back, Sir Isaac takes the hunter’s broken leg and examines it. Not a nasty break, not shattered at least. Sir Isaac puts a gag in the man’s mouth, both to silence him and to ensure he doesn’t break his own teeth in a minute.

The hunter yelps in pain as Sir Isaac sets the bones correctly again, panting heavily as he examines the leg further and concludes that it’s not life-threatening in any way. No healing, he should save his stamina for the time being.

With that handled, Sir Isaac looks around at the corpses around him. They were all dead, the few whom he didn’t kill right away since killed by their wounds or circumstances. Sir Isaac drags them all over to a less bloody place, with the exception of the horse. He didn’t have the time to dig a grave for them yet, nor were there any sheets nearby to cover them with, so this had to do for now. Once he finished his job, he could see to their eternal rest.

With all of that said and done, he turned to the shed. It was locked with a flimsy chain, not even locked so there was no reason to force it open. With a reassuring smile to calm down the damsel inside, Sir Isaac opens the door.

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