Hydaelyn Role-Players

Patting his bandage slightly before lifting his hand and wiping his chin he holds out the skin, an offering to the man. "Regald, I serve in Ishgard patrol, and yerself?"

Shamad takes the skin, takes a swig, coughs violently, and hands it back. "Shamad and I'm looking for adventure. Seems I found more than I thought just getting here."

"Adventure? You'll get plenty 'o that out here. In fact, why don't you help me with something?" Grinning he reached beside him, producing a bloody arrow, fletched with white and black feathers, long and pristine. The arrowhead, besides being soaked with blood, is sharp and finely crafted.

"I'm looking for an archer woman."

Shamad looks at the arrow. He has a decision. Continue with what he came here for or go with this guy. Considering the absolute mess that was his journey here, he is pretty sure he couldn't take on those highwaymen by himself. He nods. "Sounds like fun!"

"Good! Good!"

Grinning even wider the Hyur man stood, brushing off his pants and sliding the arrow in to his pack before lifting it on to his shoulder. He seemed to ignore the pain, but it had drained him of colour. Still, the sword at his belt seemed to give him strength. "She ambushed our patrol just down the road, If we hurry we can probably still track her. That is, if the rain allows it!"

Nodding briskly he started off south down the path, eyes full of fire.

Shamad picks up his pack and follows.

The walk, despite the injuries, seems to be brief. The path worn by so many travellers and laid in with cobblestones wound and twisted through the hills, guidance for their feet. Soon though the Hyur veered from the path and on to the grass to an open valley, nestled between two cliff-faces, where their very breathing echoed in to the rolling anger of the grey sky.

Four bodies, untouched from their resting places, remain on the ground, unmoving. Each man was clothed the same as the Hyur who quietly walked toward them. Each man also had an arrow, fletched black and white, the shaft long but buried deep, showing much strength behind the archer who fired them. The locations of the wounds are precise, and each deadly seeing from the corpses, and the direction of the arrows each seem to be at a different angle.

Many heavy footprints scatter the ground, leading to the scene and around it. Two straight lines leave the scene, indented in the grass, and a few yellow feathers follow that trail.
Otherwise, there is nothing more to tell who had been there.

The Hyur man kneels beside one of his comrades, sighing heavily.

Shamad walks up and pats the Hyur on the shoulder. "They are with Thal now. We'll get the ones who did this, I promise!"

Nodding a few times the man shakes his head and narrows his eyes, standing and moving to the straight lines leading away from the scene and deeper in to Coerthas.

"She has the cart, but we can probably catch up if we hurry, Chocobo's will be beat." Pointing off in the direction of the lines he looks back to the Lalafell, nodding. "Lets go!"

Shamad nods and takes off after the Hyur, careful not to fall in any holes along the way.

It is a long run through the fields of Coerthas. And the Hyur seemed out for blood, his chain under armour clinking with each step, heavier as they went. But he had been right, the chocobos were tired, and the woman was easy to track all through Boulder Downs and across the great bridge to where rivers ran heavy.

The sky above was heavier and darker now, droplets of rain soared down over their heads, bUt lightly still, as the real storm was still biding its time.

Slowing suddenly as they neared the running streams of Riversmeet, after of course having skirted their way around basalisks, the Hyur held up his hand to halt his new companion. "Shh, we're close!"
Inching forward to the lower banks he pointed to the rocks, at a fragment of wood and iron, a splinted barrel. The water itself, on closer inspection, was clouded. The anger on the mans face turned his cheeks red, like he was ready to scream.

"Stupid bitch!" he whispered with anger, "She's destroying the barrels! Dumping them in to the-"

Suddenly he stopped, quiet, listening. Beyond the rumble of the sky and the rush of the rivers, a crash of barrels splintering hides behind them. She was near, just above them on the hillside... And if they peeked just beyond their hill, a yalm away she stood, on the edge of a short drop, throwing a barrel in to the raging river with all her strength, black cloak whipping in the wind. As it lands, a death in the rocks, white powder spills from it, and disappears in the rapids.