The powers that be (closed)

[Canen Darkflight]

The Island of Corone, about two miles outside of Radasanth.

The road on which the open topped horse drawn wagon travelled was little more than a dirt track that circumvented around the coast of the island. As the hot midday sun beat down, the rickety wooden wheels of the cart kicked up thick clouds of filthy dust which hung in the humidity like smog over the occupants perched in the back. Even though the dust enveloped them, it didn't seem to bother any of the people there.

There were five of them - three on the left of the cart, one propped up against a sack of grain at the back and another lounging lazily on the right - and they were all young, mostly between the ages of eighteen and twenty two. The one on the right had a thinly drawn face, underneath locks of thick brown hair, and his sharp eyes bright and wary. Despite the temperature, he wore a grey overcoat that mostly disguised his form, and make him look a little more physically imposing than he actually was. He firmly held on to some sort of amulet or trinket, it's form hidden within his clenched fist, as their transport bumped and trundled down the road.

The other four people around him were dressed differently, no overcoats but instead simple garments that perhaps a trading party would wear; plain white shirts, brown trousers and shoes. They wore casual expressions and one or two smiles. One of the party, a pretty, green eyed blonde girl, wore a skirt instead of trousers that came to her knees and also a pair of knee high brown hide boots. She looked off with a fixed gaze towards the sea to the west, watching the waves crash upon the rocks, spraying white foam over their jagged peaks.

None of them spoke, and only occasionally did they look down. In the centre of the cart, at their feet, was a brown case no bigger than perhaps a small briefcase, worn and looking like it was on its last legs.

The cart hadn't been going very fast, but now it slowed down, coming to a controlled stop a couple of metres down the path. The occupants all stood up, their eyes trained forward. The girl narrowed her eyes.

"What's the problem, Ilya?" The man with the overcoat asked.

"A roadblock ahead. About fifty metres."

It didn't look like an official roadblock. During Corone's recent war, there had been many checkpoints and roadblocks to traverse on the coastal tracks and the girl, Ilya, had gotten used to the look and feel of a military checkpoint on her travels. This one was just a couple of wooden shacks at the side of the road that looked as if they had been thrown together in an awful hurry. A couple of ragged looking men stood in the centre of the road, armed with longbows that were raised and pointing directly at them.

The passengers waited, seemingly for instructions. They all looked at one another, then to the man in the overcoat.

"Well, Cody?" One of them asked, shrugging. "Are we just going to sit here and make faces at the buggers? Or shall we find out who they are and what they want?"

Cody, the apparant leader of the group, sighed. He stretched, yawning heavily, and slowly made his way out of the back of the cart. The man who spoke, a slim, fine of frame gentleman with short white hair and hazel eyes, scratched his head.

"Always problems...can't we just simply get from one place to another these days without having some sort of drama...?"

Ilya heaved a dejected sigh out of her lungs and slumped back down in the cart, thudding onto a grain sack.

"Starke, as long as Cody's around we'll always have problems." She lamented. "...and sometimes I just wish he would keep a low profile and just, you know, do what he has to do. But no, he always has to go over the top and end up making a name for himself..."

Ilya popped her head over the wooden rail atop the rim of the cart, her eyes following Cody's slow footsteps up the road towards the checkpoint, roadblock or whatever it was.

"...none of us want to be here, Cody, not really. So please...hurry up."

[Canen Darkflight]

Cody coughed, clearing the remnants of the dust kicked up from the dirt track from his throat, as he approached the roadblock. The aggressors-elect were about ten metres away now, a comfortable distance for what he had planned if he didn't get the answers he wanted.

He ground the heel of his boot into the gravel track and scraped the dirt around a little, a bored, tired expression etched across his face.

"What's the problem, boys?"

He eyed the two men up. The one on the right was slim, dark skinned and tall, keen eyed and steady. Must have been in his early thirties, perhaps late twenties, but it was hard to tell as the sun's intense light was making him wince a little. The one on the left looked like he was fresh out of the pub, a pot bellied looking poison dwarf with a beer gut and a three day ginger stubble beard covering one of his many chins. They both wore a sort of tattered navy green uniform complete with brown bandanas and quivers, but Cody couldn't see any marks of affiliation, and didn't recognise the outfits.

Whoever they were, they were the most mismatched pair of human beings on all of Althanas.

"Poverty, poverty is problem." The slimmer man on the right responded in a broken tradespeak accent, suggesting he wasn't a local man. "Your money, food, clothes, all for us, yes? You understand? Quickly."

Cody smirked, raised an eyebrow, not moving except to toe bung a heap of dirt to the side of the road, mainly out of boredom.

"No. I don't understand..." He folded his arms, a quizzical, ironic look now creeping across his face. "...I don't understand the poverty thing. I mean, look at the guy next to you. He doesn't look as if he's going hungry now, does he? How much does he weigh? Must be hard keeping up with your mate next to you at the carvery, eh?"

Cody folded his arms, leaning forward for effect, to let them know he wasn't intimidated by them in the slightest. The bows with their deadly payload remained trained on him. Unfazed, Cody simply continued to antogonise the thin one.

"Still, that's probably why you look like you might snap at the neck should a summer breeze should care to cross our paths, eh? You don't look like much of a bandit. Your fat friend doesn't look like he's got it in him either, although he looks like he may have eaten a couple of your mates on the way here."

The taller guy, even if he didn't have a full grasp of the tradespeak language, knew when he was being insulted, and whatever was lost on him was certaintly not lost on the podgy one, who growled like a bear in mating season in a seething rage, his eyes ablaze and his nostrils flaring.

"No fucking around!!" He yelled in a stony, gruff tone, "We want everything on the cart, and now we'll take the girl too..." he gestured a fat, sausage like finger at Ilya, whom he had spotted peering over the cart. "...maybe if you're lucky we'll keep her alive long enough for her to know what a good, hard seeing to feels like! She looks like she could do with a bit of action!"

Cody looked back towards the cart, towards the peeking face of Ilya. He sighed, almost sympathetically.

"The girl, eh? Hmph. I wouldn't if I were you, mate. She's under my protection, along with the cart, along with everything inside the cart, attached to the cart and integral to the cart. Get me? I'm not giving you shit. So, you have two choices..."

Cody thrust out his fist, revealing the amulet he had been carrying with him on the journey. A cross, perhaps even a silver star, on a metal chain. It's centre resonated a deep crimson, pulsating with irregularly timed beats of light. He let it dangle from its chain for all to bear witness.

"Choice one: You move, we pass through, you go to a pub and have a nice, cool beer, and enoy the rest of your day. No-one gets hurt, you live to fight another day, and you and your boyfriend can enjoy some quality, I dunno, cooked meat together or something."

The two men looked at each other, then back at Cody.

"Choice two..." Cody piped, taking an unchallenged step forward, "...you make a life-changing mistake, carry on like you are doing, and I put you in an unmarked grave and save the hangman's noose a little rope in Radasanth."

No response. They were thinking, quietly, to themselves about things, trying to make themselves look unwavering and strong but instead looking inherently weak and indecisive. This man was alone, in front of them, openly insulting and antagonising them. Could he be sane? Perhaps he was a powerful man? Maybe a stupid one bluffing his way out of a situation? What was that amulet that pulsated with such power? Cody could almost taste the confusion, nay, fear these men projected. If they had the stomach to kill him, it would have been without hesitation, and it would have happened already.

As pitiful as these two were, he had them by the balls, which wasn't much of a task.

Don't kick a hornet's nest and you won't get stung.

"So boys, what's it gonna be?"