“I’ll do a whole lot worse by the time I reach the end of my life. No point in getting hung up on something like this. It was me or him,” Sorin spoke to himself.
Sorin stood up and felt disgusted physically rather than emotionally now. His hands were covered in the spear wielder’s blood and the rest of him, in particular his face, were covered in the Creepy Green Hands’ blood. Sorin reached down and ripped the cleanest shirt off of one of the bodies after inspecting them.
“The cleanest shirt award goes to you my friend. Your service to my hygiene is appreciated,” Sorin spoke to the dead man while attempting to wipe the blood from his face and body.
Sorin thought he might be losing his mind just a tad. Not having anyone to have a civilized conversation with was draining him. Sorin then winced at a sudden revelation. Perhaps he was the bad conversationalist. He did appear to be the common factor when it came to everyone ending up dead or injured before or after a conversation. Sorin shook his head. No that could not possibly be the case, Sorin thought. Sorin was down right friendly.
Sorin was about to loot the bodies of the thieves when he heard shouting in the distance that was fast approaching. Sorin checked the spirit reserves in his Divine Conduit. He had approximately two thirds of his spirit left after using so many spells and abilities in the last fight. If the group was the same size as the last one, Sorin believed he could best them in a fight. However with all of the commotion, Sorin had no doubt that other groups would be arriving soon as well. If that happened Sorin knew he would perish. Dying in the woods was most certainly not on Sorin’s agenda so he cast Shroud of Shadows and took off running to the north east.
As Sorin ran, he heard more and more shouting coming from different directions. All of the various search parties and groups were closing in on the position of his last battle. Sorin knew he was in trouble based on the sheer number of voices in the area. Sorin suspected that every worshiper of Filchra looking for him must be within a few kilometers of his current location.
Sorin darted through the trees and tried to assess how close to the border to beast territory he might be. Sorin could not tell based on his immediate surroundings, but based on what Captain Obvious had told him, the beast territory was at least a few hours away. That was if Sorin was lucky. If Sorin was unlucky his destination would be anywhere from a day to a day and a half travel away. If that was the case, he may very well be up a creek without a paddle. He would be caught, surrounded and killed. Sorin could only run and hope that he would not be caught before then.
It took three hours before the various hunting parties caught wind of Sorin’s trail and began to close in on him. Sorin suspected that Marcus was nearby based on the fact that when he changed direction, the various groups followed. Every moment that Sorin ran, he became more and more drained and the thieves began closer and closer. He could hear someone shouting out directions through the forest, guiding all who could hear towards Sorin.
Sorin’s confidence and hope for survival waned with each passing minute, but the terror of being caught and killed continued to lend strength to his strides. Sorin hadn’t even had a moment to spare to rest or recuperate his spirit from his previous engagement that day.
Sorin tried to peer up between the leaves of the trees and gauge his location, but immediately was distracted when a group of thieves broke from a clump of trees to his right. The thieves were sprinting at a full out run. Sorin called the men’s mothers diseased and promiscuous before redoubling his pace.
Within a few minutes the first thief had nearly caught up to Sorin. Sorin yanked a knife that was in his belt, turned, and threw it toward the thief. The thief, in order to dodge the knife, dropped to the ground. This saved his life, but had exposed another man who was on his heels to the trajectory of the knife. The unlucky devil took the knife in the chest and went down. Sorin did not know if the man was dead or simply injured, but he did not stick around to find out. Sorin had continued to run the second he had thrown the knife. He had only seen the impact by glancing over his shoulder while on the move.
Sorin had been hoping the knife would cause the thieves to second guess themselves in their pursuit of him. He hoped they were cowards at heart and would leave at the first sight of violence. It was wishful thinking, but maybe the group would wait for backup. This is what Sorin had hoped. Sorin did not expect the knife would in any way completely interrupt their pursuit.
Sorin had glanced over his shoulder and witnessed a rather comical sight. The thieves had been running together in a close group at a breakneck speed. When the first thief dropped to the ground abruptly, he had tripped some of his fellow thieves. One of the thieves had kicked the poor man in the head and knocked him unconscious while tripping over the downed man.
As for the rest of the thieves, they had run headlong into their injured or dead comrade and went down in a tumble as well. The whole group had become a mass of limbs as the group attempted to untangle themselves on the ground. Sorin laughed aloud and continued running. Perhaps Vesperos truly has blessed me or maybe I am just that skilled, Sorin thought smugly. This happy mood immediately took a one hundred and eighty degree turn as another group of thieves broke from the forest to his left.
“The Gods always punish you for your arrogance and thoughts of grandeur,” Sorin muttered to himself. “I didn’t even speak my thoughts aloud. Why must I be punished like this?”
Sorin pumped his legs and sweat poured down his body. He needed to find a way to evade this group that was making a beeline for him. Sorin decided to deactivate his Shroud of Shadows as the ruffians had clearly pinpointed his location. It would save him a little bit of spirit and he needed every single lick of spirit he had.
Sorin racked his brain for solutions as the thieves continued to close in on him. Sorin decided on a plan of action that involved turning and attempting to dispatch the group as quickly as possible. That plan was immediately dashed as a third group of thieves emerged from the trees to his front. Sorin desperately looked around for a potential escape avenue.
There was a group of thieves directly in front of Sorin. Another group that was on Sorin’s heels behind him. The third that he had left in the dust had found their feet again and were quickly catching up. I am royally screwed, Sorin thought to himself. Then a lightbulb went off in Sorin’s head. Sorin knew exactly what to do to buy him some time.
Sorin charged forward, directly towards the group to his front. They drew their weapons and wore big smiles as they charged toward him while shouting out war cries to their Goddess. Sorin let loose a war cry of his own, but did not draw his weapons. His arms continued to pump at his sides, lending him speed. When Sorin was about to collide with the group, he cast Eternal Twilight and dropped to the ground covering his head.
Darkness spread out for several meters and blinded everyone. The thieves behind and in front of Sorin were unable to stop their momentum and crashed into each other. In a panic, they began to swing out and strike wildly in the darkness. Sorin, being on the ground, avoided the worst of the blows. He was, however, tripped on and kicked in the ensuing chaos. Sorin weathered the blows for a few moments before beginning to crawl forward.
Sorin escaped the mass of bodies in the darkness and cast Shroud of Shadows to conceal himself. He then took off running while canceling Eternal Twilight. The thieves may spot Sorin in his Shroud of Shadows, the second Eternal Twilight dropped, but Sorin had to take that chance. Eternal Twilight would have followed him, clearing giving away his general position while continuing to drain his spirit at an unsustainable pace. Therefore keeping Eternal Twilight active was not a viable choice.
When Eternal Twilight was canceled, it took several moments for the thieves to stop attacking each other. They came to realize that in the dark, they had all thought they were under attack when in actuality they were engaging in friendly fire. Several of the thieves were injured, but none were dead in the chaos that was created from Eternal Twilight. The confusion caused the group to lose track of Sorin as he made his escape into the trees once again.
Sorin ran for several more minutes before hearing his pursuers on his trail yet again. Sorin groaned in frustration. Whatever method they were using to track him, it was getting incredibly old. Sorin managed to run for several more minutes while hearing the baying from the bloodthirsty men coming from the left, the right, and behind him.
“Vesperos, The Unending Dark, save me from my own foolishness and the machinations of my enemies,” Sorin prayed while continuing to sprint. As Sorin’s prayer went silent, he heard something between the shouts of the men that were beginning to emerge from the trees. Sorin hoped that his ears weren’t fooling him as he veered slightly to the right and redoubled his pace.
Sorin ran several dozen more meters and more men closed in on his position before seeing a glint of sunlight reflecting off of a surface in the distance. Sorin ran towards it with all his might while the sound that resembled a roar grew louder. Sorin was absolutely confident that he had found the river that led to the beast territory in the Forest of Thieves. This was confirmed when Sorin broke from the trees and into a small clearing that led up to a rocky beach that ran along the river.
“Thank you my God Vesperos!” Sorin tried to shout, but it came out as more of a wheeze. With freedom within sight, Sorin could feel exhaustion setting in. He did not let it slow him as he knew that faltering at this point of time would lead to his demise. Sorin ran for the river.
The river was wider than most and would certainly take several minutes to swim across if the water was moved by a gentle current. However, the current was incredibly violent. The water roared forth and crashed into the shore and other rocks hidden in the water. The water churned and foamed in a violent fury. It would be an incredibly dangerous swim if one dared to venture into its waters.
Sorin instantly knew based on the river why the beasts stayed on their side of the river. It would be dangerous to cross the river. By swimming across, anyone would be opening themselves up to injury and possibly death. If someone was swept away by the current and into one of the many rocks in the river, they would break a limb or if they hit their head, knock themselves unconscious. A blow to the head would cause the swimmer to drown.
Sorin reached the bank of the river. He briefly lamented that his plan was appearing to be the machinations of a moron with each passing moment. Sorin studied the best place to leap into the water. No place looked better than any other. Sorin would have to rely on Fortuna not paying attention to an insignificant Dark Pantheon follower like himself and taking the time to zap away any luck he had. Sorin braced himself to jump into the river.
“Stop!” a voice cried out. Sorin hesitated at the cry. In the back of his head, he knew it was stupid to hesitate and obey the command of his enemy, but before he leapt into the river the voice cried out again.
“Everyone stand down. Let me speak with you before you do something foolish,” The voice shouted. Sorin figured it wouldn’t be harmful to speak with whoever could stop the manhunt on him. Sorin turned around slowly and examined his surroundings.
While Sorin had been studying the river and about to leap in, the thieves had caught up to him. He counted approximately fifty thieves with a quick glance. They were spread out in an arc along the forest’s edge. Out in front stood a single man. He was instantly recognizable from his curly mustache.
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“Hello Marcus, what do I owe the pleasure?” Sorin shouted to be heard over the crashing of the water behind him. Marcus frowned, clearly not expecting to hear his name from Sorin’s mouth.
“I do not know how you are able to address me by name, but that does not matter. You have trespassed on land that belongs to the followers of Filchra, the Pilferer, and killed our members. This transgression will not be tolerated. Turn yourself over to me and I will make your death painless,” Marcus commanded.
“Ah yes. An intriguing offer. However, I must decline. I actually have an appointment with a seamstress a few forests over and I am already tardy. So I must take my leave. Please feel free to pay me no mind,” Sorin replied. At these remarks, all of the thieves, not just Marcus appeared to be puzzled.
“What nonsense are you spewing? Come forward and fight me if you are not going to accept your death peacefully,” Marcus shouted.
Sorin knew from when he was studying the camp that Marcus was several more Degrees stronger than him and that fighting him would more than likely end in disaster. There was no reason for Sorin to fight Marcus when his escape route was directly behind him. Especially when Sorin’s spirit reserves had dipped below a fourth of his maximum capacity.
Sorin made his decision and did not hesitate any longer. He turned and leapt into the river. Sorin was shocked temporarily by the cold of the water despite having braced for it. During that brief moment of shock, he was swept along with the river downstream at a rapid pace. Sorin’s knee hit a boulder in the water and he felt a lightning strike of pain surge up his leg. Sorin opened his mouth to gasp in pain and got a lung full of water for his troubles as he was swept underwater.
Sorin struggled for a brief moment and then broke through to the surface. He hacked up some water and began to tread water as he was dragged along by the current. It was not Sorin’s best moment and he was glad that no one witnessed the foolishness he had just engaged in. Then Sorin remembered that his father was always watching him and therefore saw the moronic nature of his son. That was an embarrassing thought. Sorin also supposed the thieves saw his foolhardiness, but he didn’t count them on account that he would hopefully never see the bunch again.
Sorin began to swim forward towards the opposite bank. He heard the shouts of the thieves as they ran towards the river where he had jumped into the water. Sorin was already a few dozen meters downstream in the few seconds he had been in the river. Sorin glanced towards the shore that he had entered from. He noticed some of the thieves following him along the shore. Further up river, he noticed a few of the braver thieves leap into the water in an attempt to follow him.
Sorin had been contemplating his chances of riding the river downstream in an attempt to lose the thieves, but the thieves shadowing him on the shore ruled out that idea. Sorin began to swim towards the opposite shore. He took long broad strokes with his arms and kicked his legs to propel himself forward. He made slow progress that was occasionally interrupted by slamming into rock in the river. Sorin knew he would be covered in bruises in the morning. That was presuming he escaped and made it to morning.
The water penetrated everything that Sorin wore, making him feel several times heavier. The cold of the water caused Sorin to begin to shiver and lose feeling in his extremities while swimming. Sorin did not give up and continued to inch his way toward the far bank until he dragged himself onto the shore.
Sorin hacked up water that he had inhaled during the swim and spat it to the ground. His throat and nose was sore from forcibly swallowing water. He was shivering and wet to the bone, but he knew he could not rest. From where he kneeled, Sorin glanced over his shoulder towards the river that was still churning and shooting up spray onto him. Sorin noted that a few thieves were approximately three quarters the way across the river. Sorin also noticed that a few had perished in the water based on their limp corpses on the rocks. Others, probably fearing the fate of those on the rocks, did not even enter the water and remained on the opposite shore.
It did occur to Sorin that they could have tried to shoot him with some spell or bow and arrow when he was swimming across the river. However, that was assuming that they had such a thing. Since they did not even attempt it, Sorin could deduce that the ranged capabilities of the followers of Filchra were practically nonexistent. That he was incredibly thankful for. Granted he was not much better with his powerset and weapons. If Sorin had a bow and arrow, he could stand on the bank and pick off any of those who attempted to cross. Alas, yearning for a weapon he did not possess would not change anything.
Sorin stood, recognizing that his lead would run out if he dawdled any longer. He took one last look at the river and noted that he could spot Marcus swimming at the head of a group of five. They were making good progress at crossing the river. It would only be a matter of time before the group reached the shore and took up the mantle of pursuit once more.
Sorin turned from the shore and began to jog into the forest. He activated his Shroud of Shadows. He recognized that it would not stop Marcus’s tracking skill, but figured the shroud would provide at least a little protection against the beasts who may not possess keen enough senses to follow him. Sorin ran towards what he assumed was a deeper portion of the forest. He figured that is where the beasts may make their home. If he wanted to shake off Marcus, he would need to go to a place that he could not follow or would be significantly slowed.
Approximately an hour passed and Sorin was beginning to think he was in the clear having escaped his pursuers. Sorin had not run into any beasts, but he had noticed signs of battles between various beasts during his run. There were splintered trees and claw marks that raked through the dirt. Sorin was definitely not keen on having to fight one of these beasts if he came across one. He had a distinct feeling that the beasts were far stronger than him and he would not come out on top in such an engagement. That is presuming he survived the encounter.
Of course it was when Sorin began to drop his guard that everything went wrong. Six men burst from the foliage surrounding him. Marcus emerged directly in front of Sorin, lashing out with a sword. Sorin barely dodged the sword as it cut past his face. The pommel of the sword smashed directly into Sorin’s left cheek, sending him spinning to the ground as his forward momentum came to an abrupt halt.
Sorin hit the dirt and immediately began to roll away from his attacker. Another attacker arrived and stabbed down at Sorin with a sword. Sorin once again avoided the blow, but the sword pierced his cloak and sunk deep into the ground pinning Sorin in place. Sorin immediately panicked and cast Eternal Twilight. Sorin’s spirit reserves dipped drastically with casting the spell. He was probably down to one eighth of his maximum reserve. He would be unable to cast Eternal Twilight or Echoes of Fear before he had a chance to meditate and recover his spirit.
Unlike the other thieves that Sorin fought before, Marcus and his group did not panic when they were robbed of their sight. They immediately took defensive stances and began to shout out their positions to avoid injuring each other. Eternal Twilight did not muffle sound so the tactic was effective, much to Sorin’s shagrin. However, while his enemies began to adapt to Eternal Twilight, Sorin freed himself from where he was pinned to the ground by roughly kicking his attacker in the chest who stumbled back and then pulling the sword from the soil.
Sorin stood and attempted to follow up by killing the attacker with his own sword, but the man already retreated several paces to where his comrades were shouting their positions. Sorin had to break the encirclement he was in so he dropped the stolen sword and drew his own. Sorin went on the offensive. Utilizing the Warbringer swordstyle, Sorin attacked the man who was most isolated from his comrades in the darkness.
The man was skinny and his face reminded Sorin of a rat. He wore finer clothes than most of the thieves he had encountered, but he clearly did not care much for washing them as they were filthy. The disgusting clothes probably exacerbated the stinking body odor that was wafting off the man.
Sorin had no idea if the stench was natural or some unholy ability, but he did know that it was nasty and he wanted nothing more than to be as far away from the man as possible. Sorin briefly contemplated if he stunk this bad, would the thieves leave him alone. He threw out the idea as they clearly tolerated such a stench enough to fight with it. Sorin had no idea how someone who literally swam across a river to get here could still smell so badly.
Sorin slashed the pungent man with his swords and he screamed in pain. He crumpled, down for the count, but not dead. The injury was not deep enough for it to be a killing blow. Sorin did not spare the time to finish him off as he was already bounding away from the encirclement. He could not overpower the group and killing another one of them would only infuriate them more. By leaving behind an injured opponent, it might cause them to deliberate about pursuing him or helping their comrade.
Sorin deactivated Eternal Twilight as he left the area where it would affect his opponents. Continuing to power the spell would only waste spirit from his already dwindling supply resting in his Divine Conduit. He spared a glance over his shoulder and saw that the thieves immediately began to pursue him. They left their stinky friend writhing on the ground, clutching his chest. So much for honor among thieves, Sorin thought.
Although Sorin had a small lead, Marcus and his cronies were quickly closing the gap again. Every single one of Sorin’s enemies had an advantage in speed over him. Sorin determined it was time for a bit of improvisation and risk taking.
“This seems incredibly unnecessary! Couldn’t we sort this out over a game of Mice Wallow?!” Sorin shouted as he ran. Mice Wallow was a popular card game in Cestead, the City of Academies, that Magnus Warbringer had taught him. Sorin assumed that this card game may be mildly universal if Magnus had taught it to him as a form of entertainment.
“What the fuck are you talking about!? Come here so I can gut you like a fish!” Marcus bellowed from behind him. Apparently, Mice Wallow was not a popular game in the Forest of Thieves. Why couldn’t negotiating tactics for those trying to kill me be included in my education, Sorin questioned to himself.
“How about dice?! I cannot say I know any dice games, but I am more than willing to learn!” Sorin shouted the question.
“Is this idiot daft?” A particularly bulky thief shouted to his friendly compatriots. Sorin frowned, he was trying to delay the thieves or perhaps throw them off balance. The tactic wasn’t going well, but they didn’t need to insult his attempts. He was learning and this was his first time. They did not need to be such harsh critics.
“This is not very polite of you!” Sorin shouted over his shoulder.
“I have a dagger named Polite and I am going to shove it so far up your ass you can kiss it!” The bulky thief returned the call. Sorin burst into a laugh. It was an incredibly clever and crass threat that even he had to appreciate it. There was something about the threat and Sorin’s quickly approaching doom that struck him as incredibly humorous.
The laughing seemed to put off some of the pursuers as they faltered in their chase. Whether that falter was out of confusion of Sorin’s attitude to being threatened or because the laugh caught them off guard, it didn’t matter as it saved most of their lives. A massive beast sprung from the trees and landed on the bulky ass stabber and began to maul him. It appeared that all of the shouting alerted some nearby predators as Sorin had hoped it would.
The predator that had launched an ambush was an Elderwood Lion, a majestic and fearsome creature that roamed the ancient, dense forests of the world. Standing taller than any mortal man, its body was a blend of powerful, sinewy muscle and graceful agility. The Elderwood Lion's fur was a deep, rich green, mottled with darker hues that allowed it to blend seamlessly into the forest undergrowth. Its mane was a wild, flowing cascade of leaves and vines, some of which seemed to be alive, curling and twisting with a life of their own.
Sorin recognized the creature from books that Magnus taught him. Sorin could deduce based on the size of the Elderwood Lion that it was in its adolescence. That was a blessing as a fully grown Elderwood Lion would annihilate everyone in the vicinity easily. A fully grown Elderwood Lion could easily be a Rank comparable to a Zealot or even a Champion. A young one would likely have the strength of a Disciple. That type of power was still able to kill every single one of them if they attempted to engage with it. If Sorin fled while it attacked the thieves, he stood a chance to escape.
There was no decision to be made, Sorin gracefully turned tail and fled at his top speed. Behind him, the Elderwood Lion began to attack the group of thieves. All of those who remained alive cried out in terror and attempted to flee in the direction of the river except for that pesky Marcus. Marcus turned and tripped one of the thieves who attempted to flee. The Lion, sensing weakness, pounced towards the downed man. Marcus dodged around the beast who gracefully landed and tore into the downed man.
Marcus then activated an ability upon himself and green light began swirling around him. Sorin recognized the ability as an agility enhancing buff of some sort. Sorin immediately felt a pit in his stomach as he made eye contact with Marcus. He could not possibly be thinking of using his friends as bait to keep the Elderwood Lion adolescent occupied long enough to try to kill me, Sorin thought.
That suspicion was immediately confirmed as Marcus took off at top speed towards Sorin. Sorin cursed and immediately attempted to cast Eternal Twilight to throw Marcus off course. As Sorin tried to activate the spell, he found that he could not use it like the power had disappeared from his body. Sorin panicked as Marcus closed in. Sorin had just enough spirit to activate Eternal Twilight, but the spell would not work! Marcus made eye contact and smiled.
“Filchra, The Pilferer, has been blessed with the spell to temporarily steal the spells of my enemies. Your little ink cloud won’t save you now!” Marcus proclaimed in glee as he drew a sword from a scabbard strapped to his belt. He raised the sword and prepared to strike the second he was within range of Sorin, which he would be within moments.
Sorin wasted another precious moment panicking. He could not use Eternal Twilight and he did not have enough spirit in his divine conduit to cast Echoes of Fear. Shroud of Shadows would be useless against Marcus at this point. Eye of Discernment was not likely to glean anything from studying Marcus during the few moments before he gutted Sorin. That ruled out all of Sorin’s abilities and spells except for Shadow Control which would be incredibly spirit intensive if he wanted to inflict damage with it.
Sorin knew he could outfight Marcus using the Warbringer swordsmanship style. However, with Marcus having an ability that enhanced his speed far beyond Sorin’s, Sorin did not fancy his chances. Sorin was out of time and needed to stop Marcus’s momentum so he cast Shadow Control on a tree’s shadow and hardened the smallest line of shadow as much as he could. Sorin used practically all of his spirit with that single spell. Marcus did not notice the small obstacle in his path and barreled directly into it. The hardened shadow had formed a trip wire and Marcus’s foot caught it.
Marcus flew through the air, off balance and screamed in surprise, his momentum carrying him forward. Sorin thrust out the sword in his right hand, Marcus landed directly on the sword causing him to be impaled through the stomach all the way up to the hilt. His scream immediately turned into a gurgle as his lungs filled with blood. His sword dropped from his hand and his hands flew to his stomach where he was run through. He grasped weakly at the weapon buried inside of him before his eyes glazed over and he stopped attempting to remove the blade. Marcus was dead.
Sorin wasted no time and dropped the body to the ground, pulling his sword free. He glanced over to where the Elderwood Lion was quickly finishing off the last of the surviving thieves. Sorin needed to leave. Sorin sheathed his own swords and grabbed the sword that Marcus had dropped and used it to cut a bag that was hanging off of Marcus’s shoulder. He claimed the bag and then turned and ran. It was all the loot Sorin would be able to pilfer from pilfering worshiping asshat in a brief moment.
Sorin activated Shroud of Shadows and took off into the forest. He had barely enough spirit to cast the spell and maintain it. Sorin knew that he would not be casting or using any abilities until he was able to meditate. If anything else caught him, he would be royally screwed. Sorin hoped the last thief would occupy the Elderwood Lion a little bit longer and the beast would be happy with its meal of several corpses enough to not attempt to pursue Sorin.
Sorin muttered out a quick prayer to his father, Vesperos, to keep him safe while he ran.