Entry Twenty: Blackwold Rescue
The Time had come for one to make his move. Too long had the prisoners been held within the clutches of the Blackwold Brigands… As evening fell, one would venture across the plains, entering Chetwood from the North.
Observing that of Blackwold Roost from a far, he saw the various caravans of men, women and children leaving, heading in the direction of the Blackwolds Headquarters, the ancient ruins within Chetwood. One had struck fear into many already, eliminating the small encampments surrounding the ruin. Day by day, one after the other… Now they all move, keeping tight fitted to the ruin with only the odd patrol.
The shadows would once again be one’s ally. Clinging to them, like a new born to its mother. Silently eliminating those who would get in one’s way. It took some time, but one managed to clear a path between the caged prisoners and freedom. One would pick the locks, trying to keep those caged calm and silent, not to alert more Brigands. All three cages where opened, all the innocent where saved…
A conversation then arose not far from where one stood. Two Brigands, jesting about the woman that the one known as Jagger Jack had held. Claiming she was a feisty little fiend, though Jack liked it rough. One could not leave another to such a fate. Sneaking by, he would come across an alter where indeed another captive was held. Drawing his blade, one would creep closer and sneak up from behind.
Placing a hand over the woman’s mouth and cutting her bindings, one would set her loose. She spoke low, wondering who one was but more so the fact that Jagger Jack needed to fall. Against one’s judgement, he offered the woman Lirita’s dagger, if she wished to exact revenge herself. Clearly weakened by the beatings she had took, the woman collapsed which alerted Jagger Jack. Before alarm could be raised, one foul swoop from one’s sword would end the man currently holding the moniker of “Jagger Jack”.
One would then pull the woman to the cliff’s edge, tending to some of the wounds she had suffered. It was then she said “You’re no Dawner…” One would stand, removing the Sigil of the Dawn he found previously. One would soon here the crumbling of rocks against the cliff’s edge, dropping the Sigil and drawing his bow. A company would scale the cliff, weapons drawn at the ready. One would not lose focus and aim upon them, though others would join the fray.
More Brigands would come and the company would fight. One would spin and pierce a Brigand’s heart, dropping him to his knees. As the chaos would continue, one would try to aim for another. Yet those from the cliff would fight uncoordinated, blocking any chance. Then, one would hear a rustling behind him, someone approaching perhaps to end the woman’s life. Without a flinch, he would again spin and aim low. As the shot was fired, it was too late to realize his mistake…
Taala of the Bloody Dawn would be the recipient of the arrow. Deep into her thigh at such a range, would leave one in shock. An acquaintance one grew closer with within the Misty Mountains now injured at his own hands. Now knowing that it was the Dawn who fought this night, one would flee. It was no longer his fight and in most eyes, he would become the enemy. Arrows where fired in his direction, luckily he avoided them.
Time has come for one to leave Bree and its surrounding lands behind him… Time has come to forget those he once considered “friend” and become what he has always been. Alone…
