The moon hung over the night sky, dimly lighting the pathway through the trees' branches overhead. A soft wind, keeping a steady rhythm, was enough to chill the skin. Cella looked at the bumps rising on her arms. “Fuck me, Tallis, I’m bettin’ you’re not cold like the rest of us! All bundled up like that.” As Cella rubbed her hands over her arms, Tallis stopped mid-stride and paused.
Acini drew her bow and took a crouched stance. “Tallis, what is it?” she asked in a hushed tone. Pointing up with his finger, Tallis spoke softly, “The birds have stopped.” Cella and Acini looked up, noticing the sudden silence.
“That’s not the wind chilling your spine,” said Kenson in a low rumble. All three turned to look at him. Swirling with a hypnotic pattern, Kenson’s eyes were glowing with a deep violet hue. “We’re in danger,” he rumbled. Without another moment to think, the ground beneath their feet began to rumble. A thunderous, rhythmic drum sounded in the distance, and it was approaching quickly. The once-silent birds fled the canopies in a cacophony of panic.
“Riders! This way,” shouted Tallis, ducking into the shrubs and foliage. The rumbling grew louder as the others dove to safety just in time. Bursting through the thicket, nearly colliding head-on with Kenson, came three armor-clad knights on horseback. Vines, leaves, and a storm of branches almost preceded the knights as they flew onto the dimly lit path.
The knights were adorned in plate armor, their horses draped in chain coverings. “WOH!” shouted a voice as the horses came grinding to a stop, leaving trenches buried in the ground behind them. Almost shining in the moonlight, their armor glinted as their horses gently swayed in place. Each knight sported a utility belt and decorated swords and shields, their gear intricately etched with thorny vines. As the dirt settled around them, the knights found themselves surrounded by a gang of travelers: A Northern Elf woman, short, slender, dark-skinned, with an arrow strung ready to pierce. In front, an amethyst Dragonborn stood, eyes glowing wildly within a crystalline-like skull. To one side, a shaved-headed, muscular woman looked as if her muscles had replaced all fat on her body. Unbeknownst to them, a shrouded half-elf hid in the dark thicket.
The three knights tightened their formation while keeping their rearing horses in check. “No travelers, you must not be here. Quickly, turn back now!” the lead knight shouted, his armor glinting in the moonlight. Stepping from the shadows, Tallis emerged, speaking in a sly tone. “Thistle guardsmen this far west is a rare sight. I don’t believe you have authority here,” he said, his eyes squinted, as if to hide a smile.
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The guards drew their swords, further tightening their formation. “Travelers, we have not stopped to squabble here with you,” the lead knight shouted. “You are all in terrible danger!” another guard added. Acini, watching closely, noticed the knights were battle-worn. Their armor was dented and freshly bloody in some areas, their faces tired and haggard, panting like dogs. “Wait,” Acini said, “They must be telling the truth. Just look at them, for gods' sake.”
Hearing these words, the traveling party reassessed the situation and began lowering their weapons. Kenson spoke up first. “I agree. They speak true. My spell is not reacting to them, meaning danger is still near.” Stamping her foot, Cella crossed her arms and looked to the forward knight. “Alright then, so we’re all best fucking pals now? Good job, everyone. So let’s cut the crap and tell us what’s coming.”
Dropping the act, Tallis walked to the front with cautious steps. “The angry lady has a point,” he said. The lead guard, his voice urgent, replied, “There really is no time. You must turn back now!” He glanced over his shoulder. “Thistle is in danger.”
“Sir!” another knight shouted. Quickly, all eyes turned to what was upon them. Like a shooting star in the night sky, a fiery light approached from the distance. Then, as soon as it appeared, a faint whistle echoed through the air. Thud. An arrow sank into the ground by a knight's horse. The horse flinched and began to back away, but to no avail. Like a chorus of birds or insects, more and more whistles were heard as the sky slowly filled with burning arrows. Acini looked to the sky in disbelief, letting out a small gasp. Cella’s eyes flared with rage as her muscles tightened. Tallis froze again, crouched and staring intensely at the smoking arrow sticking in the ground. Kenson, seemingly unphased, closed his eyes and began chanting something in an ancient language.
The lead knight, not breaking his stare, shouted to the others, “Quickly, to Thistle! One of us must make it back!” He looked at the Dragonborn standing in front of him and his men. “Run, you fool!”
There was no time. Like hornets from hell, fiery arrows rained down on the pathway, piercing and burning everything around. The travelers did their best to duck for cover. The knights raised their shields and kicked their horses, but almost to no avail. One of the three knights met his end quickly, as his horse was struck, bucking him off and throwing him to the ground, where he was impaled by the rain of arrows.
It wasn’t over by a long shot. Roars and screams echoed from every direction. There was no time to think. A blur of branches and iron, a flurry of fur and claws, blood, pain, darkness… Amidst the darkness, a fleeting glimpse of something—was it a rope? A wagon? A cage? Then... nothing.