[Ando Alur] A Favour for a Favour

[Shmeepicus 4220]

 

A Favour for a Favour

4th of the Snow's Maiden, Y28 of the Second Age

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   The banditry clamored around the soft glow of their fires, their jubilance filling the nearby woods. The wind whipped up leaves and other debris in the dark around the camp.

    

   “Oh please, please don't! Here this is all I have, just please let me go!” One mocked, much to the mirth of his comrades as he attempted to wipe the crimson off his blade.
    

   “Alfred, tell that story of yours about that shite colored pointy eared prick, the one with the glass on his face.”

 

   The brawny and scarred man set down his mug with a smirk.
     

   “Hannibal, Edgar and me was collectin’ tolls on the road and was ‘bout to come back to camp but this limpin’ creature comes on down the road.” Alfred rose, feigning a limp with a chuckle.
    

   “Thing lacked all color, like one them Farfolk traders but darker. So we holler out to the arse that we’s collecting tolls for the road. The darkie is wobblin’ his way towards us with that there cane,” he pointed to a nearby piece of warped wood sitting in the mud.
    

   “And this darkie is old; has more wrinkles than yer mother, Igor. Anyways he tells us he has nothin’ but some stones and paper, so Edgar goes to pat him down and is knocked right on his back. The elf is wielding the cane like he's some mercenary or something, so Hannibal and me decide his life is a worthy toll. Since Edgar’s rolling about on the ground like a child, I grab my sword while Hannibal goes for his bow.”
    

   He coughed.
    

   “The old man’s cane is made of somethin’ very strong and won't break no matter ‘ow many times I swing. When Hannibal finally gets his head out his arse and nocks an arrow he misses by a horse and a half. Soon enough though I have him on his back leg and am about to send him below when Hannibal decides to be a half decent shot and steal my loot.”
    

   “Oi, he nearly had you on yer arse Alfred. The fock ye mean?” A ragged haired man started from the opposite side of the fire.
    

   “Oh shut up, Hannibal. Ye stole that kill and y--” the brute’s response was cut short as an arrowhead protruded from his neck. The men around the fire stood up quickly, reaching for their swords in dismay.
    

   “We’re under atta--!” the shout was drowned out by a large “POP!” as light exploded in the darkness, a beam of fire throwing the remnants of Hannibal onto a nearby tent and setting both alight.
    

   From the darkness of the treeline came figures garbed in silver armour, shimmering in the moonlight that dripped through the canopy. They cut down those that fought, their black steel blades sending bodies to the ground with a thud.
    

   Edgar ran, his feet felt like they were bleeding, his rotund figure making slow progress in the night. He tripped. He tried to rise but his foot was caught on something, he reached down to try and free himself and as he felt the dirt shifting a moment of pure terror seized his body as the ground began to swallow his leg.
    

   “Help!” he shouted, desperate for death to a blade rather than suffocation. From the darkness stepped out a tall figure dressed in dark robes, muttering words softly under their breath. Then another and another. The frames paused a few meters from Edgar as now only his neck protruded from the ground. The panicked bandit caught only the glint of a dagger as it was passed to the robed mali’ker.
     

   The figure bent down, revealing a scarred blue-black face with blackened hair beneath their hood.
     

   “Please! I have money! I have treasure! Just let me go!”
    

   The Elf moved his free hand to Edgars lips, holding one finger in front of his mouth to quiet him. The shaman spoke in a deep voice, a foreign language that sent a tremble to Edgar’s core.
    

    “A favour for a favour,” spoke the Mali’ker.
    

    All went black for Edgar as the red plasma flowed down his neck, watering the ground below.
    

    The figures turned, and with a militaristic gait, strode back into the darkness of the woods.

[6xdestroyer 1610]

A dark elf deep in architectural plans smiles.

"Ando Alur, a puzzle you've proven to be. Then again, I've always enjoyed a good puzzle," he muttered over his desk.