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Tales of The Whitebark Clan I

by calwhitebark on Apr 18, 2017 at 05:21 PM}
Footsteps in the Dark

They moved swiftly and silently as possible, trying not to attract attention to themselves as they advanced. The turn of the seasons was not entirely in their favor as the pair of men stepped carefully through the crisp leaves and dried branches which had littered the ground beneath the towering trees growing up around the ruins. One false move or too loud of an arrival could jeopardize their part of the plan. The autumn season had, however, also brought with it cold evenings and fine layers of frost forcing the band of untrustworthy men and women encamped within the ruins to start small campfires. The glow of the fires gave away positions as their pacing shadows moved along the interior walls. As the silent men advanced in the darkness, they spotted a gruff looking brigand who stood guarding an entrance to the encampment.

He leaned casually against the wall of the ruins starring off into the Midgewater Marshes, seeming rather bored by his position as lookout. The pair decided to test his skills as a guard and split up, going left and right, walking widely out and then back towards each other. This time one of them purposely stepped on a branch and the brigand immediately turned in the direction of the sound. When the light of a torch he’d reached for revealed a Ranger standing in front of him, the man screamed and swung the torch at his foe. Without so much as a flinch, the Ranger reached out, wrenching the torch from the man’s hand and striking him with it. Instead of falling, the guard cried out in pain from the blow to the side of his head and staggered back.

As the brigand turned to run and retrieve his fellows, another figure stepped from the shadows and struck him a second time, not with a torch but a large wooden staff showing a subtle glow of its own. The man spun from the force of the blow and was stopped abruptly as a blade pierced through his abdomen and exited his back. He fell to the ground with a look of surprise never having left his face. “Well done, Callathrad. Let us hope his cries did not alert the others to our presence”, Torthann said as he scanned the area for anyone who may have heard and come running to the aid of the dead brigand at his feet. The young man he’d brought with him looked exhausted and Torthann hoped that this would not make their mission more difficult. As far as Callathrad was concerned, this was only the latest in a series of unexpected turns his life had suddenly taken and he was convinced it was starting to take its toll on his mind. He stood with his freshly craved staff planted on the ground, doing his best to steady his breathing and himself. He gripped the smooth and polished wood in both hands and leaned his head against it; thinking over all that had brought him to this point…


Beautifully told! Is there more to come?
Eventually. It took months of endless nagging from Barg and endless encouragement from Tarth but I finally managed to post at least this much. I'm so glad you liked it though! :+)
Cal is the O.G., so beautiful work is to be expected.

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