Ambush at Salvar

[Teutonic Knight]

The snow fell lightly to the ground and stuck to the trees and branches on the way down from the sky. Godfrey sat near a fire cooking up some stew while examining his blade. He was on a simple task just to patrol the area in the woods make sure nothing suspicious was stirring up around Knife's Edge.

Godfrey had been outside in the forest for some time now and it seemed rather quiet.

"Ahh...my soup is done finally...now lets see where did I put my spoon oh well who needs one." Godfrey said and held the cold bowl to his lips and tilted it back till the warm liquid touched his lips. Godfrey began to slowly sip down the soup.

"Ahhhhh." Godfrey said letting a deep breath of hot air run out of his chest into the cold air which now made his breath visible.

Godfrey finished up with his soup and placed the bowl on the ground. He was starting to think that there was no need in even patrolling the boarders of Knife's Edge it seemed as if no one or no thing really ventured by these parts and posed no harm to him or Knife's Edge but he continued to wait a while longer.

[Storm Veritas]

The soft scent off the fire had lured him in, and Storm assumed the man sitting by the pot to be half-drunk. He had better be; after all, the thin plume of smoke that wafted to the heavens gave his position away for miles. Out here, there wasn’t a whole lot of anything, and a man on his own was either stupid drunk or crazy brave. It had been too long since he’d tasted a hot meal, and whatever wares the traveler carried with him would be a welcome bonus.

”OK, slow, smooth, steady. Stay low, out of sight. Circle about, but hold your fire. At my approach, make with the arrows.

“Let’s do it fast. Don’t give him a chance to grab the sword.”

There were four of them, the traveling scum that Veritas had recently affiliated himself with. Transients, nomads, low men of marginal skill and conveniently flexible morals. They wore simple leathers; quiet and subtle shades, strewn with small twigs and leaves. Moving slowly, the snow settled gently on their clothes, in their hair. The large, ungainly snowflakes held up softly on them, leaving the small band well guised about the hill.

They circled around him, Storm slowly and yet boldly creeping down the hill towards the centered, resting traveler. Nestled in a bowl-shaped valley, he was hopelessly outflanked here in the woods, yet Veritas would leave no stone unturned. Each footstep was meticulously crafted; a painfully careful step to avoid slip, slide, or noise. There was no room for error in the ambush. His hair draped aimlessly across his face, the jet black tousles obscuring his view. His fingertips instinctively withdrew the stiletto, a titanium blade that pulled silently from the sheath at his hip. Pressing his thumb against the flat back of the knife, he was merely fifteen feet from the tent when he quickly flashed his hand up.

Bring the pain, gentlemen, and don’t you f*cking miss.

A soft pift whispered from afar. At least one arrow had been loosed, and the lonesome traveler was about to face some real company.

[Teutonic Knight]

Godfrey heared a small sound that was wizzing in the thin cold air he stood up and an arrow struck him in his rib.

"Ahhh!" Godfrey yelled he want for his sword slipping sround in the snow he fell to his knee then graped his sword and stood back up.

"Fight me fairley! You cowards show yourself!" Godfrey said with anger holding the area where the arrow had hit pointing his sword up towards the top of the valley.

His wound was painful and he hoped there would be something he could handle. He did not like archers he thought as them as being cowards for not fighting close and this was clearly an example.

Godfrey watched around the top of the valley carefully for the danger of being struck again he did not see anything or hear anything clearly this was more than he could handle.

The snow still came down and only made matters worse he did not have an advantage at all. He stood his ground ready to attack and get attacked.

[Storm Veritas]

The satisfying sizzle and thwap of metal unto flesh resonated from the camp, and though his vision of the traveler was obscured, Storm was sure that the arrow had found its mark. That the man could stand so quickly and call out to the environment was both impressive and foolish; surely the wiry traveler would have simply ran for cover were he so surprised. The brush was dense, and snow fluttered quickly; the warrior in the wood below was flourishing about and searching for him, waiting for him, ready to kill.

As controlled as a f*cking fish in a bass boat. You must take me for some kind of fool, junior.

He knew the way these wounds went. Perhaps the adrenaline and endorphins would keep the man running for a few minutes, keep his heart high and courage thick. Perhaps the raw emotions of hate and fear and scorn would drive him to stay the course. It didn’t matter to Veritas; this was a spectacle. He was far from invisible, but rather hidden in plain sight, only a handful of paces from the wounded man, squatting low on an earthen outcropping. The risk of being sighted by an injured knight was one he was willing to take. Crouched silently on this hillside stoop, a fast-whitening and stoic figure, he used a dismissive flick of the wrist to relay the message to his archers.

Hold your fire. Let’s see where this goes.

The prospect of sending another volley of arrows was enticing; certainly that would make for a quick and concise end to the confrontation. Yet Storm felt this display far too conspicuous. Something was amiss; something had to be. No sound-minded man would act so boldly without the affirmation of a chance to survive. Perhaps Storm was not the ambusher at all.

He would wait, and the man would see him, and come for him, or he would bleed out. Friends of the wounded traveler would be forced to show themselves to help the man, if they even existed. Either way, that arrowhead was lodged taut, and the snipers remained out of sight. Removing the arrow would certainly only make matters worse for the frightened knight below.

It was merely a waiting game now.

[Teutonic Knight]

Godfrey got no answer from whoever was trying to kill him and was not enjoying his part in this little game. Godfrey decided that the only thing he could do was to find the attacker or attackers. He stumbled up the side of the valley stabing his sword into the side of the cold wet soil. He made it to the top but found no one either they were hiding very well or his eyesight was not what it used to be 20 years from know.

Godfrey laid along the side of the tree over looking the area of the vally there was still nothing just snow falling and cold air blowing across his face turing the tip of his nose red. He looked over turing his head to see outside of the vally he noticed two knights in scale mail armor traveling down the road on horse back he knew the only chanse of surviving was to get thier attention and get some extra help.

"Hey over here." Godfrey yelled a whisper to them trying not to stir things up.

"what is it?" The curious knight asked looking towards his way while dismounting his horse

"Shhhhhhh.....Just come here silently I will explain later. Godfrey said to them putting a his index finger in front of his mouth than waving his hands telling them to come near him.

The knights did as they were told and silently crawled up the hill trying not to slip off the side of the vally. When the knights reached the top they noticed the arrow in his rib and the trail of blood up the side of the vally staining the snow red.

"You are hurt my lord what has happened." the knight asked

"I..was..attacked..I..do not know by what or who but..I need your help." Godfrey asked them taking deep breaths from being tired out by climbing the side of the vally with the arrow sticking out in which he tried his best not to break it.

"yes we will help you." The knights said simontaneously as they drew there weapons. One of the knights had a hand axe and the other used a broad sword. they quick gathered round Godfrey to assist in protecting him the knights started looking around to see if the enemy was near.

[Storm Veritas]

::As a tip, it’s generally not good form to have a post that assumes you can escape a situation like that so successfully and easily, changing the landscape of the thread and forcing your opponent’s hand. Try to avoid it in the future, please.::

The knight was quick, and Storm was amused. Fleet feet beat a path up the hill, and the set of trained arrows turned in unison with his fast-running departure. It was desperate and athletic, but it also carried an air of power and grace. Impressed, Veritas followed silently, lurking through dense shrubs and soft soil. The path was easy and straight, his smile crooked. This was getting fun.

The others stared with disbelief as Storm let the camper advance. How could he let this man advance? How could they not just open fire, and riddle him with arrows? It didn’t matter to the wiry Veritas, who instead happily watched the mouse run. Playing the cat was a fine amusement.

That’s it. Run, boy. Bleed out of that shoulder. Arm yourselves. We’ll end up calling this justifiable homicide, self defense by the time we’re done.

The knight moved up the hill, quickly holding up the efforts of two men on horseback that must have felt ambushed themselves. In seconds they were wielding axes and swords, the rudimentary implements of the simple, brave, and stupid. It was just a matter of time now.

The band of thieves followed the orders of the clever, if arrogant leader. Storm commanded them to spread, and the three of the others quickly ran to form a pincer set around the group of three vagabond braves. The men ran frantically, beating a path through the wood, caring not about stealth or tact. Were they to get in position, they would again have the knight caught in the crosshairs, tactically outdone. This time, any orders to ceasefire would be summarily ignored.

If they can get to their spots in time.