Unsatisfied Desire (open to all)

[Fayne]

The sun begun to rise and life seemed normal in the deep forest some distance from Underwood. The birds sung their sweet music, fauns wandered about for their morning meal and Fayne was on the prowl. She dashed through thick foliage, deftly leaping any shrub or bramble perceived too thick. To any onlooker, Fayne resembled a wild creature of the forest than anything else. She burned for a satisfying kill that day and what better way was there than to terrorize the road that led into Underwood from the north?

She gave a huff, breath streaming through the chilly air and she leaped onto the side of the tree deemed suitable. Strong, yet lithe fingers grabbed at the sturdy bark and the swordfighter crawled up the old tree. Her eyes widened when hands and feet nearly slipped, but then encouraged herself to scale the tree in a frenzy. As she went, Fayne felt the cruel string of winters wind seep into her skin. Her body, heated from an hour of running bravely through the night warded away all misery of cold she felt upon waking and she felt unstoppable. Nails and feet mercilessly ripped up at the bark face and she passed many passing branches. Morning birds cried in alarm and some flapped in full retreat.

Scrambling up undeterred, she knew a convoy full of annoying Radasanthian’s would show up soon. Night had ended and the sun streamed its golden light through the thick canopy of trees overhead. Many who had stopped for the night should have been waking up and preparing to move. Fayne also suspected they would be armed convoys. No trader was stupid enough to travel such a long way without some hired hands. Her body swayed side to side as she continued her fevered ascent. Her hands eventually grabbed hold a generously thick branch, wide enough to walk upon and she flipped herself up on it, a few surprised squirrels leaping away for the neighboring tree.
Fayne closed her eyes and settled herself, letting her aching feet hang down the side. She panted quietly to catch her breath as she wiped away a cool bead of sweat while admiring the forests morning glory. Gold struck green and the world couldn’t have been more perfect to her then. She wondered what it would be like the be the only living humanoid left in the world, to forever be with the wilds alone…
“Maybe one day..” she said sadly, wondering too if her life would be better off without being driven by the hunt, without the calling she felt every rising sun to slay.

After her reprieve, she took the short bow off her back and gave the bowstring a pull to test its strength. Rewarded by a loud twang, she gave her reliable weapon an affectionate look before brushing through a few thick growths of pine needles and dragged herself further down the branch until she was a little past the midpoint. Her perch didn’t lean with the addition of her height so she nodded, deciding it was the best spot.
From a quiver of small, yet very sharp arrows, her hand reached to retrieve one as her dull teal eyes scanned the area below. She found herself more than halfway up the tall tree, yet the road some ways ahead was very visible with plenty of long fronds in between to obscure her form. Fayne tightened her hand around her bow, excited to have find a proper sniping roost. She gave the arrow she was holding a playful twirl and licked her lips as she anticipated the sound of horses to come. She was hopeful she wouldn’t have to wait forever.
“The patient hunter… Gets the prey. Always.” she murmured her fathers repeated words despite her aching fingers longing to pull the bowstring back soon.

[B.I.G.]

A thin line of smoke seethed from the smoldering ashes of the previous night's fire. Lingering coals dimmed and brightened, their orange glow contrasting well with the dead, white ashes. Bartleby had always enjoyed contrasts.

The morning dew had frozen shortly after settling, coating the dead, brown grass of the forest floor with a thin blanket of ice crystals, each one reflecting the early sun light like thousands of tiny sequins.

The forest was quiet. Birds could be heard in the distance, but immediately surrounding the campsite was a peaceful silence. Not a single leaf or needle swayed, nor could any steps be heard, nor animals be seen. The earth was still, quiet, at peace. Louder than anything else was the beating of Bartleby's own heart in his chest. Moment's like these were all too rare in the busy life of a nobleman.

The serenity Bartleby had been enjoying was interrupted all too soon by a sudden stirring to his left. One of the more portly of his escorts had finally awakened. The greasy excuse for a bodyguard did not appear the part. His dull, brown hair was thinning. His face was poorly and spottily shaved. His bulbous nose did nothing but draw attention away from his already beady, faded eyes. The unsightly man rubbed his eyes clean of filth and noticed Bartleby sitting upright, poking at the ashes of the campfire with a stick.

" Ahh good morning, m'lord! Up with the sun are we? Ah-hahahaha! "

Bartleby raised not even an eye brow to the man's query. He spoke calmly, as he almost always did.

" I did not sleep. "

A puzzled look came over the middle-aged man's face. " Well, why's that, m'lord? "

Bartleby let out a soft, shallow sigh and rose to his feet. He dusted of his clothes and straightened out his coat. " We had best be on our way, Mr. Toddle. "

The husky guard blinked a few times, somewhat bewildered by Bartleby's answer, or lack there of. But he quickly returned to his normal manner and let a wide grin stretch across his flabby face.

" No need to be so formal, m'lord! Most folks call me Tim! Hahaha. "

Mr. Toddle rose to his feet and placed his fingers in his mouth, signaling the two other soldiers with a loud, sharp whistle. " Alright you lot, nap time's ova' ! Time to set off again! "

The other two men groaned, struggling to their feet. No doubt some pleasant dreams were interrupted. They were both young men, and young men had much to dream about. That is except, of course, for young men like Bartleby.

As the guards dressed themselves and packed up camp, Bartleby made his way over to the mare he had tied to a nearby oak the previous night. His hand rested gently on her nose, and he greeted her with silence. She lowered her head, accepting her master's gentle touch. She was spotty and gray, imperfect in a perfect way. She was a reliable animal, and for that Bartleby was thankful.

A few minutes passed and the guards that had been assigned to escort Bartleby southward were ready to depart. They all wore matching maroon uniforms, lined with light leather padding in the chest and gold trim on the edges of their tunics, as well as matching leather boots and gloves. Mr. Toddle was the only one to wear a helmet. It too was leather with iron studs. The two younger soldiers carried common iron tipped spears with oak shafts, where as Mr. Toddle carried a yew shield and iron mace. He was the most experienced of the three, and as such was in charge, beneath Bartleby of course.

Bartleby saddled up on his horse and the soldiers assumed their positions. Mr. Toddle took the front, and the two younger men covered either of the young noble's sides. Mr. Toddle gave another sharp whistle. " Alright men! We're off! " In unison, the three soldiers began marching while Bartleby remained in the center of them on his horse. He gave her a gentle pat on the neck and she began to walk with them.

Gazing ahead, Bartleby could see the sun in full glow just barely piercing the veil of the tree line. They weren't far from Underwood and for some reason, today Bartleby felt optimistic. He kept his eyes forward, eager to meet the day's challenges.

[Fayne]

Freezing air swirled around Fayne in the treetop, and the heat she had felt began to fade. Stubbornly, she made not a move from her crouch and continued to keep her hand around her bow, and fingers tightened on the end of an arrow. She had been through worse, and she knew it.
A time passed, and Fayne felt numb to the world and everything around her as she kept a lifeless stare on where the road began. Four soldiers appeared, one of them mounted. Her dulled eyes let them pass as though she hadn't even noticed. Her fingers began to slip from her bow, so chilled her whole body begun to feel. She felt like making the slightest lean forward, a lean that would cause her to fall.

It wasn't until the sound of the horse clip clopping below did her eyes widen in horror. "What is wrong with me!" she cried in disbelief and notched the arrow back far on her shortbow, pupils darting every which way to spot the targets. They were passing the tree, their backs almost turned to her. Despite the horrible timing, Fayne knew she had to inspect them quick and see who she was dealing with. Her orbs narrowed seeing two of the soldiers were spear wielders. Before she left her clan, a spear nearly took her life and she had always had a difficult time fighting them. They would have to die first, there was no question about it. She was aware that not taking the first shot on the mounted foe would allow him a chance to quickly retreat, but the death of the lancers felt more important.

It was time. The wind was blowing south, and she smiled as her arrow would meet no resistance and even possibly gain more power by the encouraging force. She adjusted her aim accordingly, keeping her arm focused and steady as she targetted one of the spearman, hoping for a shot through the neck. Once her aim followed him closely enough, her mind worked out the targetting on the other spear wielding soldier close by. The fingers drawing back the arrow begged for release, but she took her time. They wern't going quickly. When she was certain that the wind would not change, absolute that she would not miss, she released.
"Fall.."

A loud hiss drew past her and without pause, she pulled back yet another arrow, one eye arched as the sensation of possible blood being spilled sizzled through her veins. Her aim then immediately went to the second soldier not wasting a critical second on checking to see if the first had been struck.

[B.I.G.]

The cold began to take it's toll as a chilling wind blew at Bartleby's back. He could feel it through his coat, through his skin all the way into his bones. He fought in vain against his trembling body. Perhaps if he could borrow some of Mr. Toddle's girth, he wouldn't be having such trouble.

His unsightly escort seemed to be having no trouble at all with the cold. He in fact had not stopped speaking since they had set off. He rambled on about his wife, his children, his travels- anything and everything one could talk about. The younger soldiers seemed understandably annoyed with Mr. Toddle's ramblings, but Bartleby didn't mind. He didn't listen very attentively anyway, but he doubted that mattered much to Mr. Toddle. The old soldier probably just wanted someone to talk to.

The sun that had been shining so brightly earlier was now hidden behind dim, gray clouds. The forest had become less calming and more unsettling as the day went on and the four travelers delved deeper within it's bowls. Bartleby knew the dangers of the forests of Concordia, and although three armed guards watched over him, he couldn't help but glance over his shoulder more than a few times. The optimistic feeling he awoke with had faded and was replaced with an unassuming dread. Something... felt wrong.

As the travelers marched on, they came around a bend that curved to the right. The path was well worn but hadn't been traveled on very recently, as it was mostly covered with fallen leaves. Another brisk wind blew in and Bartleby shivered for an instant. He crossed his arms and rubbed his chest, trying to drive the cold from his body. As Bartleby warmed himself, an unfamiliar sound teased his ears. At first he thought it was just the wind blowing, but the sound was higher pitched than that, almost like a whistle.

It sounded as though it came from behind and it grew louder by the second. Bartleby turned to his left to try and listen more carefully. Not even an instant after Bartleby turned to his left and the young soldier came into view, another sound hit Bartleby's ears, along with a horrifying sight. The sound was that of flesh and bone being pierced by metal, and the sight was that of an arrow thrusting out of the young soldier's throat, and deep, red blood spewing from the wound.

Before Bartlby could speak, breath or even react at all, another whistle was carried with the wind. Bartleby's head snapped to the right, and he watched yet another arrow push it's way through the back of the young man's skull and out of his left eye socket, taking the ocular orb with it. By now Mr. Toddle too had heard the noises, and he quickly assumed a fighting stance.

" Archer! " shouted the grizzled old soldier. The excitement startled Bartleby's horse, and she rared back in fear, send the noble crashing to the ground below. The horse dashed off down the road, leaving the two remaining men exposed. So much for reliable.

Mr. Toddle rushed over to Bartleby and pulled him rather forcefully to his feet. He dragged Bartleby by the arm and flung him off of the path and into the tree line. " Get down sir! Take cover! "

Bartleby was still dumbstruck. It had all happened so suddenly, he hadn't been able to collect himself. He leaned against a wide oak and slowly slunk down to a sitting position. Mr. Toddle was hard at work, taking cover behind a tree of his own, but peering out just enough to gaze into the direction the arrows had come from.

" I don't see nothin' m'lord. Bloody coward must be hidin' in the shadows! "

Bartleby stared blankly at his feet, trying very hard to compose himself. All he could see was the two young soldiers and their gruesome deaths. He had not even known their names, and yet they were entrusted to protect him, to safe guard him from danger. They died for that purpose. They died for him.

Bartleby's eyes narrowed and his brow arched downward. His bewildered look shifted to a stern one. He rose to his feet and took a deep breath, the cold air burning his throat and lungs. He turned to Mr. Toddle and spoke as calmly as he could.

" Thank you Mr. Toddle. We should try to figure out what we're dealing with. "

Mr. Toddle's eyes did not shift from the path. " Don't mention it m'lord. And I told you before, call me Tim. " he said with a smirk. Bartleby couldn't help but split a smile of his own.

" Very well Tim. How many shooters are we dealing with? "

Tim's eyes narrowed as he inspected the bodies of the young soldiers from a distance. " Well m'lord, the shots came in quick, but not too quick for one man to fire. And they both came from about the same direction. "

" So you think just one then? "

Tim glanced at the bodies again and back down the path in the direction the arrows had been fired. " Yeah. But there could be more around. Best now just to stay put and wait for them to make a move. "

" I agree. But I'll need a weapon. "

Tim reached into his left boot and pulled out a small dagger. It was made of steel, about six inches in length. " Sorry m'lord. It's all I've got. "

Bartleby gripped the dagger tightly in his hand. It wasn't much, but it would have to do. It was too dangerous to try to recover one of the fallen soldier's weapons. He kept his back to the tree and scanned the surrounding forest. He didn't see any immediate threat, but he knew it was important to keep as many angles covered as the two men could. Another attack could come at any time from any direction. Bartleby was afraid, but he had been trained for just such an occasion. They say your first time is always frightening.

[Fayne]

sorry if its hard to read. I had to rush this post..

Still eyes watched as the two soldiers beyond and below were struck nearly in direct succession, their sudden falls instilling hurried motion in the other two remaining, particularly the horse that forcefully dismounted its rider.
Fayne's eyes sloped from the sight and a look of sadistic delight flushed her face. With the spear wielders gone, she felt she nothing to fear. She couldn't fail this time, like she failed before. Mercilessly, she rapidly sends two more shafts fly as they retreated into the tree-line. Fayne couldn't see them as she fired, but felt a crazed momentum whirling within her that didn't want to stop sending bolts of death down below.

When she loaded the third shot, she finally saw it as senseless since her hand didn't feel many arrows left in the quiver. The travelers likely found sufficient cover or were getting away too. If they were paying attention, the arrows would have likely pointed out her position as well. Putting the shaft away, she quickly scanned around for the quickest path down.

Finding one, she strapped the shortbow across her back, tensing before vaulting off the branch into the open air. Rolling through the air she uncurled herself at the right time to let her hands grip around the thin bough from a different tree that wasn't very far off the ground. The momentum of her leap flipped her upright onto the narrow platform and as soon as her feet touched it, she sprang off. Fayne appeared a dark violet streak as she spun down into the woods, her long coat gathered up into the air before she struck the ground in a practiced roll before stopping to a kneel. Wincing from the landing, her sword flashed out from its scabbard as she came upright. It wasn't a very long sword, very slim and slightly curved. The two that were remaining definitely knew where she was if they were watching, and she raised her blade high up in one hand, angled forward as she slowly crept forward, listening.