Far away, in a vale along the shore of the Ice Lakes, fifty miles northeast
of the city of Luskan, a tiny unnamed village slumbered peacefully. Its
inhabitants did not fear anything. They were far enough removed from the
Spine of the World to not be bothered by the monsters of that region, and
they were close enough to Luskan that many bandits avoided the place,
fearing swift retribution from the city.
The Red Talon Band harbored no such fears.
Eram studied the village from atop the lip of the vale. It was snugly nestled between a small forest and the lakes. Wisps of smoke curled from some chimneys, fires left burning in hearths all night to ward off the encroaching winter cold. Only one street ran through the village, straight from one end to the other. The houses simply straggled in all directions outwards from that central point. However, along the edge of the village furthest from Eram, construction materials for a large hall that was apparently being built on that end lay strewn about in such a way that even from his vantage point he could tell it would be nearly impossible to run across them without tripping. In order for the inhabitants to go around the large pile, they would have to go right through the path down which Eram himself would be lying in wait. The half-elf smiled to himself. The villagers had effectively cut their only possible escape route off, unless they chose to brave the unpredictable ice of the Ice Lakes. Even if they did, they would easily be picked off by the band's archers.
He turned back to the group of bandits that were easily sitting their horses behind him. This was his elite group. It was their job to make sure that none of the villagers escaped. Any that tried were to be cut down. Eram was not sure why this was his job. The leader of the Red Talon Band, a large and incredibly ugly human named Ulek Two-swords, was not the most forthcoming of men. He demanded absolute loyalty from those who pillaged with him, and would accept no questioning of his orders. Any man who felt he had a problem with something the huge man said got a chance to face him in a duel. Since Eram had been with the band, several had died this way. Ulek preferred to fight like a drow, with two swords instead of one. What he lacked in coordination he made up for in sheer bulk and ferocity. No one that stood against the leader ever won. The half-elf had avoided that fate by simply not voicing his opinions.
Suddenly, a shadow loomed beside him. Eram turned to see the designated runner boy for this mission, a tall, lanky kid who had joined up with the bandits somewhere along their travels.
"Ulek says go," the boy said, and melted away back into the bushes.
The kid will make a good scout, at least, Eram thought, if he manages not to get himself killed. He signaled his group forward, and divided the bandits in two. One half would go to a large clearing in the forest to the east of the village, and the other would go north, to cover the end of the village with the construction materials. Eram went with the latter group. The trail was wide and easy to navigate, even on horses. The bandits were soon in position.
A huge fireball exploded over the village, compliments of the band's wizard. Screams erupted as the villagers woke to find their homes aflame. People came staggering out of the houses, burning or not. That was the signal for Ulek and his group to sweep in. They did so in a grand fashion, the horses thundering down into the village, cutting wide swathes of destruction in their wake. Men and women and children fell before the merciless swords of the bandits. Only a very few of those who had come out of the houses still stood after that first pass. Ulek let his group dissolve as bandits went rushing into houses or to corpses to loot.
Eram fought back a momentary wave of nausea as he watched the carnage. The half-elf had not been a particularly violent person before falling in with the Red Talon Band three months ago. This was his first raid with the band, and what he was watching right now sickened him. He was careful not to show it to the other men. Some were veterans, and avoiding the humiliation he would experience was worth the price of pretending to be interested in the spectacle.
A man with a wicked wound across his arm came stumbling towards Eram. He stepped his horse back a pace.
"Well, half-elf?" someone shouted from the back of the group. "Your first kill. Take it or leave it!" The other men laughed.
The villager stopped running, cradling his arm, eyes wide in fear as Eram approached. He turned to run again and tripped over a rock in the ground, landing with a groan of pain on his injured arm. He turned over quickly as Eram slid off his horse and walked slowly over to the man, drawing his longsword as he did.
"Please," the man whimpered, his face streaked with tears. "Please don't kill me. My family."
"Your family is dead, or soon will be," Eram replied softly, so that the men twenty feet away could not hear. "You will also probably bleed to death long before you receive any aid. I am simply offering you a more merciful way to die."
"Kill him already, half-elf!" Eram raised his sword and lined up the point of his blade with the man's heart. Making sure his back was turned to the bandits behind him, he closed his eyes, and plunged the sword into the man's chest. When he opened his eyes, the man's glazed eyes stared back at him.
He did not feel the congratulatory slaps the other men gave him as they came over to loot the body. He did not take the two pieces of gold that they found in the man's pockets that they offered to him first. He did not feel much of anything. The dead man's eyes burned into him, burned into his soul. The smell of the fires in the village and the screams of the dying assaulted his senses. Eram backed away from the savage group, got back on his horse, and trotted off.
"Where ye going?" one man called after him. Eram did not hear him.
Being a bandit, apparently, was not as enjoyable as it seemed.
The Red Talon Band harbored no such fears.
Eram studied the village from atop the lip of the vale. It was snugly nestled between a small forest and the lakes. Wisps of smoke curled from some chimneys, fires left burning in hearths all night to ward off the encroaching winter cold. Only one street ran through the village, straight from one end to the other. The houses simply straggled in all directions outwards from that central point. However, along the edge of the village furthest from Eram, construction materials for a large hall that was apparently being built on that end lay strewn about in such a way that even from his vantage point he could tell it would be nearly impossible to run across them without tripping. In order for the inhabitants to go around the large pile, they would have to go right through the path down which Eram himself would be lying in wait. The half-elf smiled to himself. The villagers had effectively cut their only possible escape route off, unless they chose to brave the unpredictable ice of the Ice Lakes. Even if they did, they would easily be picked off by the band's archers.
He turned back to the group of bandits that were easily sitting their horses behind him. This was his elite group. It was their job to make sure that none of the villagers escaped. Any that tried were to be cut down. Eram was not sure why this was his job. The leader of the Red Talon Band, a large and incredibly ugly human named Ulek Two-swords, was not the most forthcoming of men. He demanded absolute loyalty from those who pillaged with him, and would accept no questioning of his orders. Any man who felt he had a problem with something the huge man said got a chance to face him in a duel. Since Eram had been with the band, several had died this way. Ulek preferred to fight like a drow, with two swords instead of one. What he lacked in coordination he made up for in sheer bulk and ferocity. No one that stood against the leader ever won. The half-elf had avoided that fate by simply not voicing his opinions.
Suddenly, a shadow loomed beside him. Eram turned to see the designated runner boy for this mission, a tall, lanky kid who had joined up with the bandits somewhere along their travels.
"Ulek says go," the boy said, and melted away back into the bushes.
The kid will make a good scout, at least, Eram thought, if he manages not to get himself killed. He signaled his group forward, and divided the bandits in two. One half would go to a large clearing in the forest to the east of the village, and the other would go north, to cover the end of the village with the construction materials. Eram went with the latter group. The trail was wide and easy to navigate, even on horses. The bandits were soon in position.
A huge fireball exploded over the village, compliments of the band's wizard. Screams erupted as the villagers woke to find their homes aflame. People came staggering out of the houses, burning or not. That was the signal for Ulek and his group to sweep in. They did so in a grand fashion, the horses thundering down into the village, cutting wide swathes of destruction in their wake. Men and women and children fell before the merciless swords of the bandits. Only a very few of those who had come out of the houses still stood after that first pass. Ulek let his group dissolve as bandits went rushing into houses or to corpses to loot.
Eram fought back a momentary wave of nausea as he watched the carnage. The half-elf had not been a particularly violent person before falling in with the Red Talon Band three months ago. This was his first raid with the band, and what he was watching right now sickened him. He was careful not to show it to the other men. Some were veterans, and avoiding the humiliation he would experience was worth the price of pretending to be interested in the spectacle.
A man with a wicked wound across his arm came stumbling towards Eram. He stepped his horse back a pace.
"Well, half-elf?" someone shouted from the back of the group. "Your first kill. Take it or leave it!" The other men laughed.
The villager stopped running, cradling his arm, eyes wide in fear as Eram approached. He turned to run again and tripped over a rock in the ground, landing with a groan of pain on his injured arm. He turned over quickly as Eram slid off his horse and walked slowly over to the man, drawing his longsword as he did.
"Please," the man whimpered, his face streaked with tears. "Please don't kill me. My family."
"Your family is dead, or soon will be," Eram replied softly, so that the men twenty feet away could not hear. "You will also probably bleed to death long before you receive any aid. I am simply offering you a more merciful way to die."
"Kill him already, half-elf!" Eram raised his sword and lined up the point of his blade with the man's heart. Making sure his back was turned to the bandits behind him, he closed his eyes, and plunged the sword into the man's chest. When he opened his eyes, the man's glazed eyes stared back at him.
He did not feel the congratulatory slaps the other men gave him as they came over to loot the body. He did not take the two pieces of gold that they found in the man's pockets that they offered to him first. He did not feel much of anything. The dead man's eyes burned into him, burned into his soul. The smell of the fires in the village and the screams of the dying assaulted his senses. Eram backed away from the savage group, got back on his horse, and trotted off.
"Where ye going?" one man called after him. Eram did not hear him.
Being a bandit, apparently, was not as enjoyable as it seemed.