Night is a time of rigour, but also of mercy. There are truths which one can see only when it's dark. - Isaac Bashevis Singer

A man crouched over the recently downed guard. Grabbed the guards wrists he grunted faintly as he straightened before dragging the guard over to Marko. “Quickly now, we haven’t got all night.” He commented in Hanks direction.

Hank wasn’t sure he should trust the stranger but not having a better plan, he focused on the corpse before him. He reached down, pulled on the sword lodged in the guard’s back. It was stuck. After a few jerks Hank couldn’t move it so he turned the corpse on the side and tried again. Still no success. He ended up wiggling it a lot until eventually with a sucking sound it suddenly came out in a rush and a spurt of blood.

“You’re unused to swords by the looks of things,” the voice seemed to whisper on the wind.

Hank gagged at the blood and its salty metallic smell.

“Or blood for that matter” the stranger continued.

Hank shook his head as he walked over to the tall man.

“There’s a trick to pulling them out of corpses, which isn’t something we have time to discuss.” He had his hand over Marko’s mouth, not hard, but enough to muffle any noise the short man made squirming in pain. “I apologise, but he wasn’t being quiet enough and we shouldn’t awaken the guards.”

Hank looked at the arrow. It protruded from the flesh just above Marko’s hip bone. It didn’t seem to be angled towards anything vital rather it stuck in the side almost as if it was due to pass through and out again. Hank doubted anything important had been punctured but it bled, a lot. Fortunately, the arrow had penetrated far enough that the head had punched out the back.

After a moment’s consideration Hank crouched next to Marko, considering the arrow. “Stranger help me here for a second, I can sort this arrow out and then he will either pass out or not make so much noise.”

“My name’s Ahjmaishe. Are you a medicine man?” The tall stranger responded.

“No. Just read some medical books and acquired some rudimentary knowledge as a result. No big hopes here, it’s beginner level.” Hank took a breath. “Look I’m not trying to be rude but it’s unlikely I will ever pronounce your name correctly but it sounds a bit like Jamie. Do you mind if I call you that? As for Marko here, well hopefully he survives, either way I agree with your earlier comment. He needs to be quiet.”

Jamie shrugged. “He’s not my friend. Your call.”

“Mine either, he’s a travelling companion.” Hank used his knife to take the feathers off the end of the arrow. The vibration obviously caused Marko pain as he resumed his struggles and attempted to scream.

Jamie’s hand held his mouth fast so no sound came out. Jamie didn’t seem at all concerned about Marko’s efforts and he spoke almost conversationally. “Strange, travelling companions don’t normally attack bandit towns when outnumbered twenty to one.”

“Neither do lone strangers.” Hank grunted as he started pushing the arrow through Marko. Marko’s eyes where wide with pain. Jamie’s hand stayed resolutely clamped to the struggling Marko’s mouth forcing the scream he was surely effecting to remain inside.

“Excellent point. But I’ve a valid reason. These pieces of filth captured my caravan whilst I was delivering a message eight days ago. This is the first opportunity I've had to do anything about it.” Jamie grabbed one of Marko’s flailing arms pinning it with an knee.

“So, hoping to get your stuff back too?” Most of the arrow now stuck out of Marko’s back and Hank couldn’t push any further. He went round to the back to pull the arrow completely out. Hank took the opportunity to inspect the stranger, just in case there was something interesting.

Inspect Character Result

Name :

Jamie ?

Gender :

Male

Genotype :

Human

Specifically :

Wanderer

Reputation :

Unknown

Alignment :

Unknown

Occupation :

Unknown

Level :

Unknown

Stature :

Very Tall, Thin

“No, I don’t care about stuff. My people travel in small family groups called a caravan. These filth captured my wife, daughter and twelve other of my people. I’m not in a very forgiving mood.” Jamie sounded furious, definitely not forgiving.

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It was this comment more than Marko’s injury that blew the plan sky high. Hank had no idea where Sabine and Fritz where but he doubted that rescuing fourteen people was high on their list of priorities. With a final tug the arrow came free and Marko passed out, Hank assumed from the pain, so he was useless.

“Ok so here’s the deal. Marko here,” Hank pointed at the unconscious wee person. “…myself and a few other companions are attacking because we need to recover some things these bandits stole. We weren’t planning on cleaning out the entire camp.”

Clean out, was one of Sabine’s euphemistic terms that roughly meant, ‘kill or otherwise render unable to interfere’. Killing everyone was definitely not what had been planned, nor had rescuing strangers. Though, Hank's idea had been to release enough wanderers so they could help. Jamie fit the bill.

Sabine and Fritz were coming in from north of the camp, planning to disable the northern guards and then work their way towards the main building in the middle. The ever useful but silent Fritz had lock picking skill, so he and Sabine drew the ‘free the loot’ and ‘recover the chest’ straws. Given the way the plan was going, Hank was reasonably certain they would accomplish neither of the last two tasks inside the ‘big building’. Still Sabine was the only group member who could wade into ten heavily armed enemy and emerge unscathed, so the first part made sense.

Hank came to a decision as he stuffed some of his salve into Marko’s wound. “Ok, you come with me.” Jamie clapped a hand over Marko’s mouth as he opened it to cry out. As Hank applied bandages he continuing his whispered planning. “Marko can rest here and once he’s recovered, he will continue to the east to get rid of the bandits there.”

“And where are we going?” Jamie asked quietly.

“To lock up, knock out, or kill any bandit between here and the main building in the middle of the camp.” Hank wiped the blood off his hands on the nearby corpse. "Are you coming?” He asked Jamie, hoping fervently he would.

Jamie snorted. “Of course I’m coming.”

Hank moved over to the unconscious sentry, releasing him of both sword and knife. Before gagging and tying him up against a tree.

Preparations complete, they headed off into the night. Seemingly moments later they reached a longhouse. The door opened with ease, Peering inside Hank noticed that it was more dormitory than anything else. Fifteen beds laid out in a single row could be faintly seen in the moonlight only eight held people sleeping soundly.

Jamie pushed past him as he entered the room. Jamie tiptoed up to the first bed, bent over, looked at the face and then sliced his throat. Hank froze by the door, suddenly struggling not to vomit at the shear brutality of the Wanderer’s actions. Unperturbed, Jamie moved on to the next bed, repeating the actions. Killing someone by severing the jugular is more noisy than Hank expected. Loud enough to wake one sleeper who Jamie executed in a second.

Reaching a particular sleeper, Jamie prodded him awake. A sharp dagger prick to the throat keep the bandit quiet as Jamie frog marched him back to the sentry clearing. A few moments was sufficient so have him gagged and roped to a second tree. Jamie made two more of these strange trips before he emptied the longhouse of the living.

“Why are you not executing these?” Hank whispered.

“Someone needs to stand trial. These are the ones who will.” Jamie answered calmly.

“And the ones you just killed?” Hank was reluctant to ask.

“Some of their crimes where against me and mine. In my community, I am the law. I have tried and executed them as a result.” He blithely answered.

Hank decided he wasn’t in a position to argue, having seen Jamie’s combat superiority, so he nodded and they moved on. Working their way past empty tents they crept up to the wagons.

All were empty except for the biggest, which was guarded by two bandits. Jamie pointed at Hank and then to the guard on the right before slinking off into the undergrowth. Hank followed suit also sneaking off into the bushes.

After careful attention and much effort Hank managed to creep up to some bushes directly behind the indicated guard. Hank reflected for the second time tonight that smoking destroys night vision. On a normal night, Hank was certain, he wouldn’t have been able to get that close, but the moonlight was just perfect.

Having reached a good spot Hank was in two minds, act first or wait. The question proved irrelevant as he saw Jamie spring out of the bushes grabbing the nearest guard. With a leap and a big overhead swing Hank smashed his staff into the head of his target. The result seemed almost anticlimactic as the guard sank soundlessly to the ground.

Hank glanced across at the other guard, who was bleeding out from a vicious cut to his neck, as he approached the wagon. He poked his head through the wagon’s door just in time to see Jamie being embraced by eight women and men. There were tears streaming down all the faces, thankfully none of them were making a lot of noise.

“Where are the girls?” Jamie suddenly stopped.

One of the older ladies spoke up, nervously glancing at the others before speaking. “Yasmin and Roxanne were taken from us six days ago. Azar two days later. We haven’t seen them since.”

“But where is my Esther?” Jamie asked with trepidation.

The lady who had spoken before winced. “They took her tonight. We think for the chief. We tried to hide her. But she attacked a guard earlier tonight. They took her.” She started weeping.

Tears appeared in Jamie’s eyes. “I will get her back, I’ll get them all back,” he choked out.

Hank stepped out of the wagon and started towards the “big house”, Jamie’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. Jamie pointed towards the river towards another of the medium houses with a guard outside. Whispering, “you only post guards when there is something to guard” he lead Hank in a roundabout way towards the guard.

Hank was about to act, he wasn’t sure what he was going to do but his indecision became mute as Jamie rushed the guard in pure rage. In his haste, Jamie received a nasty cut to his arm. Hank charged after Jamie.

It wasn’t a silent attack so Hank didn’t wait, but kicked the hut door in, hard. Figuring surprise was his best bet he burst into the single room as quickly as he could. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a man pouring a drink near the bed. It didn’t interest Hank in the slightest.

It was time to test his quarter staffing for real for a change. Two guards held a struggling young woman even though she was bound to a post. It was obvious from the bruises and blood that she had been struggling for a while. She was beautiful. Stunning really, even with the black eye and the swollen lips. But there was no time for that.

The roof was low, and so Hank couldn’t raise his staff high. No mater, the faster the staff end moves the more damage Hank thought as he swung his staff laterally. The first guard didn’t react quickly enough and before he could draw his sword, the steel shod end of Hank’s staff smashed into his jaw breaking it and knocking him unconscious.

Hank reflected on the nature of this game. You couldn’t increase your health at all. Skills didn’t suddenly make you harder to kill. They didn’t let you miraculously absorb larger amounts of damage. They just gave you a better chance to protect yourself. It was a strange thought for the middle of a pitched battle, one worth remembering.

The second guard was much more prepared. He was also quick on his feet. He easily dodged Hanks staff as he pulled out a pair of knives. Easily dodging Hanks follow up swing and a couple of jabs. But knives have very poor reach, less than a foot at best. Hanks staff length meant that the guard couldn’t get close at all. It was just going to be a case of who made the first mistake.

In the mean time Jamie, had bound his arm and now wanted to squeeze past Hank who blocked up the doorway. The man with the drink cringed back dropping into a plush chair before yelling out. “Guards, guards.”

It wasn’t really a distraction. The guard didn’t even turn to look at him, but it was enough to divide his attention just a little too much. Not in any way that benefited Hank, rather it was enough for the girl to lash out with her foot and kick the guard in the side of the knee. It didn’t do any damage, but the guard dropped to one knee. A perfect opening for Hank who stepped in and smashed the guard in the head. That steel end was everything he had hoped when he bought the staff, solid and deadly.

Jamie dived across the room hauling the short man out of his chair. “You sarnasian piece of filth. If I wasn’t required to look past your duke’s involvement in the uprisings to the south and I didn’t have a code to uphold, I would have you tortured in the King’s keep. Not that you would know anything. But I’ll settle for the vengeance I promised.” And with that he slit the mans throat.

“Promise made. Word kept”. Jamie nodded to himself as the unnamed man gargled his last breath. He barely waited for the man to die before he joined Hank in freeing the lady.

“Wife?” Hank questioned.

“Daughter” they said in unison. Not that Hank could have pried them apart.

Hank took a moment to look at Jamie’s arm. “Hopeless bandage.”

“I was in a rush I wasn’t trying to do anything other than get in here.”

“And it shows.” Hank pointed at the badly wound cloth. “Remove it. That’s a deep and nasty cut, when there’s time, it’ll need stitches. Until then apply this and re-bandage.” He pullout his salve, looked towards Jamie before tossing it to the girl. “Better idea. Girl you apply the salve and re-bandage lanky mcstabby here.”

The room itself had only one bed in it but a quick look around showed a number of locked chests. Obviously things Hank would come back for. However Hank needed to head for the large longhouse. Noticing that the girl was finished he turned and strode from the room, Jamie, and his daughter in tow.