Post by Maur on Jul 15, 2016 6:57:43 GMT
Hunting trips and excessive consummation of alcohol did not usually go well for those involved, which is the exact reason a specific party of four men were secretly supplied with far more potent wine than they had expected for their pre-hunt drinking session. Lord Alyn Crindlyn, a wealthy man in the nation of Etirath, his son, and two of their most trusted hired swords accompanying them, rode into the forests of Etirath more drunk than any of them realized.
Thanks for this were due to Naln, the little Gob was by far the best sneak at Krollig's disposal.
Lord Alyn was a portly man, he carried a wide girth upon his mighty steed, and was known in the land to be a trader of fish and other goods. The merchant had many friends due to his Lordship, friends that could be taken advantage of by those who knew how. Krollig liked to believe he knew how, Naln had overheard the game trails they planned to take, and identified which ones they referred to so that Krollig and Fark could set up an ambush ahead of time.
The excellently trained and fiercely loyal Coldpaw was waiting for his master's signal, the wolf was massive, and knew how to carry itself. Krollig planned to have his companion and Naln take care of the bodyguards, while he and Fark brandished nonlethal sleeping darts for the Lord and his eldest.
The company rounded a corner in the small trail, they trod single file each on his own horse, the beautiful autumn leaves lost on their inebriated minds and loud drunken mouths. Lord Alyn and his son were unarmored, having chosen instead to don light leather tunics for this outing, their guards however, sported what looked to be hammered iron, it was inferior to Krollig’s eyes but in the thickness that a human frame could support it would be a challenge for Coldpaw, although he was certain that Naln was resourceful enough to work around such an obstacle.
As they rounded the bend Krollig gave the signal, it being him firing a dart into Alyn’s thick neck, Fark quickly followed with the Merchant’s son. Within a few moments the drugs that laced the tips caused them to slide from their saddles.
Krollig barked a strange high pitched sound less than a second after his dart was fired, and Coldpaw sprang from a dense thicket of bushes, knocking one of the Guards from his saddle, then Naln leapt from a tree and landed on the other’s back, quickly thrusting a knife under his helmet and deep into the exposed back of his neck, the man would be dead soon but for now he bled profusely. Naln leapt from the supposed sentinel's writhing back just before he fell from the saddle, and briefly noted Coldpaw while the wolf tore its target’s face off.
Krollig swiftly descended his tree, leaping from the lowest branch onto the slope of the slight hill which the path was carved into, Fark did the same and rushed toward Lord Alyn with strong rope over his shoulder, the Nathra agent unravelled his cordage and looped it around the large Lord’s ankles, making a few knots to secure it, he then passed the rope to Krollig who bestowed it to Coldpaw. The Wolf would have to drag the fat man for a little over a mile to the Goblins’ camp.
“What should do with this one?” Naln asked, standing at the head of Alyn’s son’s prone form.
“It wouldn’t be smart to leave him, but Coldpaw can’t carry him.” Krollig replied, mentally slapping himself for not planning for the young man, he was roughly twenty-three, not young by Ravager standards but certainly so in human terms.
“Give him another dose and let’s hide him, Naln, stay with him until Fark can come back for him, he will after this one’s tied up.”
The High Agent ordered, and thudded a fist against Alyn’s slowly moving chest.
Fark and Naln hooked loops of rope under the smaller man’s shoulders and pulled him a few yards into the woods, where Fark jabbed him with another dart and helped Naln to cut and throw branches over him.
The trip back to the camp was for the most part short and uneventful, the behemoth of a man woke once, he had glanced around quickly in some manner of a daze, until Fark jabbed him with two more sleeping darts, it seemed that the Goblin had an endless supply. Coldpaw was far stronger than he appeared, managing to pull the easily three hundred pound man through rough terrain. Krollig thought idly while walking beside the noble beast, that perhaps he may never age, perhaps he would grow to the size of a horse, perhaps larger, the Tamer briefly imagined his beloved pet trampling armies.
Fark ran ahead as they came upon a small ravine, barely wide enough to allow passage for the unconscious Lord Alyn, it was with no hesitation that Krollig realized they would have to untie him, roll him into a small opening, down a three foot drop, and then retie him to Coldpaw so they could bring him inside the large cave that Fark currently lit a torch inside of.
Once they had pulled the man inside Krollig tended to him, Fark mounted Coldpaw, the only other person the wolf would let ride him, and rode off to bring the son back with Naln.
Thanks for this were due to Naln, the little Gob was by far the best sneak at Krollig's disposal.
Lord Alyn was a portly man, he carried a wide girth upon his mighty steed, and was known in the land to be a trader of fish and other goods. The merchant had many friends due to his Lordship, friends that could be taken advantage of by those who knew how. Krollig liked to believe he knew how, Naln had overheard the game trails they planned to take, and identified which ones they referred to so that Krollig and Fark could set up an ambush ahead of time.
The excellently trained and fiercely loyal Coldpaw was waiting for his master's signal, the wolf was massive, and knew how to carry itself. Krollig planned to have his companion and Naln take care of the bodyguards, while he and Fark brandished nonlethal sleeping darts for the Lord and his eldest.
The company rounded a corner in the small trail, they trod single file each on his own horse, the beautiful autumn leaves lost on their inebriated minds and loud drunken mouths. Lord Alyn and his son were unarmored, having chosen instead to don light leather tunics for this outing, their guards however, sported what looked to be hammered iron, it was inferior to Krollig’s eyes but in the thickness that a human frame could support it would be a challenge for Coldpaw, although he was certain that Naln was resourceful enough to work around such an obstacle.
As they rounded the bend Krollig gave the signal, it being him firing a dart into Alyn’s thick neck, Fark quickly followed with the Merchant’s son. Within a few moments the drugs that laced the tips caused them to slide from their saddles.
Krollig barked a strange high pitched sound less than a second after his dart was fired, and Coldpaw sprang from a dense thicket of bushes, knocking one of the Guards from his saddle, then Naln leapt from a tree and landed on the other’s back, quickly thrusting a knife under his helmet and deep into the exposed back of his neck, the man would be dead soon but for now he bled profusely. Naln leapt from the supposed sentinel's writhing back just before he fell from the saddle, and briefly noted Coldpaw while the wolf tore its target’s face off.
Krollig swiftly descended his tree, leaping from the lowest branch onto the slope of the slight hill which the path was carved into, Fark did the same and rushed toward Lord Alyn with strong rope over his shoulder, the Nathra agent unravelled his cordage and looped it around the large Lord’s ankles, making a few knots to secure it, he then passed the rope to Krollig who bestowed it to Coldpaw. The Wolf would have to drag the fat man for a little over a mile to the Goblins’ camp.
“What should do with this one?” Naln asked, standing at the head of Alyn’s son’s prone form.
“It wouldn’t be smart to leave him, but Coldpaw can’t carry him.” Krollig replied, mentally slapping himself for not planning for the young man, he was roughly twenty-three, not young by Ravager standards but certainly so in human terms.
“Give him another dose and let’s hide him, Naln, stay with him until Fark can come back for him, he will after this one’s tied up.”
The High Agent ordered, and thudded a fist against Alyn’s slowly moving chest.
Fark and Naln hooked loops of rope under the smaller man’s shoulders and pulled him a few yards into the woods, where Fark jabbed him with another dart and helped Naln to cut and throw branches over him.
The trip back to the camp was for the most part short and uneventful, the behemoth of a man woke once, he had glanced around quickly in some manner of a daze, until Fark jabbed him with two more sleeping darts, it seemed that the Goblin had an endless supply. Coldpaw was far stronger than he appeared, managing to pull the easily three hundred pound man through rough terrain. Krollig thought idly while walking beside the noble beast, that perhaps he may never age, perhaps he would grow to the size of a horse, perhaps larger, the Tamer briefly imagined his beloved pet trampling armies.
Fark ran ahead as they came upon a small ravine, barely wide enough to allow passage for the unconscious Lord Alyn, it was with no hesitation that Krollig realized they would have to untie him, roll him into a small opening, down a three foot drop, and then retie him to Coldpaw so they could bring him inside the large cave that Fark currently lit a torch inside of.
Once they had pulled the man inside Krollig tended to him, Fark mounted Coldpaw, the only other person the wolf would let ride him, and rode off to bring the son back with Naln.