Wilson Turk was struggling. Stiff had implied he was the leader of this little expedition. But Wilson had been given no formal position, and the bunch of bastards he was leading to the Harris’s farm didn’t recognise his authority. All they cared about was getting paid, and it wasn’t Wilson who was paying them. Was it so much to expect a basic level of respect?
Some of them complained about the route he took. Some complained about the plan for a night attack. Stricken was the worst of the lot. He just stared back at him, as if he was contemplating cutting the gnome’s throat.
Naturally enough, Wilson tried to get the rebellious squad into shape by shouting at them. But none of them seemed to care, except for the big lump, who just cried and shouted ‘murder’ continuously. Wilson told him to shut it, but that didn’t do anything. Then the others had the gall to give Wilson dirty looks, as if somehow it was all his fault.
More than once, he was close to storming off and leaving them all to it. But his previous failure at the farm hung heavy. Stiff had been more than understanding about it. He needed to prove he could do it. That The Golden Blades, and all the others who had rejected him in the past, were wrong.
It was a relief when the steading with its farm buildings and fields came into view. This was crunch time.
This, he could do.
***
Wade
Name
Trent Wade
Nickname
Wade
Race/Nationality
Human/Durnish
Age
35
Daily Wage
7 pence
Action Stats
EXP Level
3
Action Points
5
Hit Points
22
Core Stats
Might
8
Agility
10
Grit
11
Intellect
5
Skills
Thievery, Knives (proficient)
Equipment
Weapons
Dagger (damage 3-12)
Armour
Padded
Other
Lockpicking and other tools of the trade
The Baron
Name
Unknown
Nickname
The Baron
Race/Nationality
Human/Durnish
Age
31
Daily Wage
7 pence
Action Stats
EXP Level
3
Action Points
3
Hit Points
13
Core Stats
Might
5
Agility
12
Grit
5
Intellect
11
Skills
Thievery, Disguise, Knives (competent)
Equipment
Weapons
Dagger (damage 2-8)
Armour
Padded
Other
Lockpicking and other tools of the trade
Wilson Turk
Name
Wilson Turk
Nickname
None
Race/Nationality
Gnome
Age
50
Daily Wage
7 pence
Action Stats
EXP Level
3
Action Points
4
Hit Points
20
Core Stats
Might
14
Agility
5
Grit
3
Intellect
10
Skills
Ambidextrous, axes (proficient)
Equipment
Weapons
Hand axe (damage 3-18), Hand axe (damage 3-18)
Armour
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Breastplate
Other
Stricken
Name
Jurgen Stricker
Nickname
Stricken
Race/Nationality
Human/Hargon
Age
27
Daily Wage
7 pence
Action Stats
EXP Level
3
Action Points
4
Hit Points
20
Core Stats
Might
12
Agility
9
Grit
5
Intellect
4
Skills
Thievery, Cleaver (expert)
Equipment
Weapons
Cleaver (damage 4-20)
Armour
None
Other
Mags
Name
Magnus Nold
Nickname
Mags
Race/Nationality
Human/Durnish
Age
28
Daily Wage
4 pence
Action Stats
EXP Level
2
Action Points
3
Hit Points
15
Core Stats
Might
6
Agility
5
Grit
7
Intellect
6
Skills
Thievery, Ambidextrous, Dagger (competent)
Equipment
Weapons
Dagger (damage 2-8)
Armour
None
Other
Lockpicking and other tools of the trade
Murder
Name
Unknown
Nickname
Murder
Race/Nationality
Human/Alinko
Age
34
Daily Wage
1 pence
Action Stats
EXP Level
1
Action Points
2
Hit Points
12
Core Stats
Might
9
Agility
4
Grit
2
Intellect
1
Skills
Staves (novice)
Equipment
Weapons
Stick (damage 1-3)
Armour
None
Other
The Bowman
Name
Christoph Gerd
Nickname
The Bowman
Race/Nationality
Human/Hargon
Age
19
Daily Wage
1 pence
Action Stats
EXP Level
1
Action Points
2
Hit Points
12
Core Stats
Might
7
Agility
7
Grit
4
Intellect
4
Skills
Bows (novice)
Equipment
Weapons
Short bow (damage 1-6)
Armour
None
Other
Femke
Name
Femke Gerd
Nickname
None
Race/Nationality
Human/Hargon
Age
48
Daily Wage
7 pence
Action Stats
EXP Level
3
Action Points
4
Hit Points
20
Core Stats
Might
4
Agility
5
Grit
13
Intellect
11
Skills
Medic
Equipment
Weapons
None
Armour
None
Other
Medical kit
‘I haven’t had a chance to practise with the thing yet,’ Christoph complained.
‘Just take your time,’ she reassured her nephew. ‘There’s no rush.’
‘Alright, Auntie.’
Femke understood his concern. Lothar had sourced specialist arrows for their attack on the farm. Both the wooden shafts and the two-bladed arrowheads were longer than usual. It made Christoph’s task of pulling back the string and firing accurately more difficult.
The gnome had tasked Femke and Murder with preparing these fire arrows. Murder kept a small fire going, poking it with his stick. Femke attached a bag of tow to an arrow, then lit it when her nephew was ready for the next missile. Wilson’s ‘help’ was largely verbal, while Stricken stood to one side, as if nothing they did was of any concern to him.
Another arrow twanged off to one side, falling nowhere near the thatch-roofed building Christoph was targeting. Lothar had set the string extra loose. Any tighter, and the fire would blow out as the arrows travelled. But it meant the arrows flew with no power behind them, flopping up in the air, then diving to the ground. Certainly, if by chance they happened to strike an enemy, they would inflict no damage.
Christoph sighed with frustration.
‘You’re getting better,’ Wilson lied. ‘And like your aunt says, there’s no rush. Well…we do need to attack before dawn. And there isn’t an endless supply of arrows.’ The gnome seemed to understand the look of irritation the boy sent him. ‘Tell you what, Stricken and I will get into position. Less eyes on you. I’m sure you’ll get it soon.’
The two of them crept closer to the farm, away from the light shed by the fire. They were soon lost in the shadows of the long barn that was the nearest building to their position.
Christoph’s efforts continued. Every so often, it looked like he’d made the shot. But one arrow actually went too far, sailing over the farmhouse. One landed on the roof, but the flame had snuffed out before it got there.
‘I can’t do it anymore,’ Christoph complained. ‘My shoulder aches. I think I’ve injured it.’
‘Here,’ Femke said. She struggled to her feet after kneeling in the mud for so long. ‘I’ll have a go.’ She needed a change of activity herself.
She taught Christoph how to attach the fire. Her first shot was hurried, nervous of the flames. But after that, she got accustomed to the action. It was only her sixth shot that landed on the roof. For a while, she assumed the flame had fizzled out. It was too dark to see smoke. But then, she could see flickers of flame coming from the thatch. It had caught.
She glanced at her nephew, worried he might be angry with her. But he gave her a rueful grin.
‘We’ll tell them you did it,’ she told him. ‘You won’t say otherwise, will you Murder?’
‘Mada.’
***
They waited behind a hedge, eyes on the prize.
This was the first time in Wade’s career that the prize was a herd of cattle. One had to be flexible in this line of work, but he was out of his comfort zone. It was cold, muddy, and smelled of dung.
The Baron nudged him. At last. The main farmhouse had caught fire, and it looked like the flames were spreading nicely.
The Baron was in his all-black outfit, while Mags was the kind of fellow who was naturally good at staying in cover. Nevertheless, they waited a while longer before leaving their hiding place. The plan was that the fire would draw away any farmers who had been put on night watch. Wade thought he heard someone moving out in the fields beyond the hedge, but it could just as likely have been a cow stretching her legs.
They couldn’t hang around forever, so Wade led them over the fence into the field. Sixty-two head of cattle had been stolen, though Stiff had said not to worry too much about getting that precise number. With rope in hand, Wade joined Mags and The Baron in rounding up the first beasts to be liberated. They were probably the last three people in Gal’azu who should have been given the job. But they worked together and roped up a few of the beasts. The theory, according to Stiff, was that once they led a handful away, the others would follow. Wade certainly had his doubts. But they were about to find out.
They led the animals towards the gate. Only at the last moment did Wade catch the blur of movement that came for them from the darkness.