[dragoneyes]

Not quite half-way between Bree and the River Brandywine, north of the Great East Road, sat seven men and a young boy around a campfire. They were finishing off their dinner, well, the men were, the young boy was tending to their horses and ponies.

"Hey Boy!" yelled a large, weather worn man, "Get something in yer afore it's all gone!" This meant that Boy was able to stop looking after the horses and go and get something to eat, of which there would not be much left by the time he got there. "There Boy," said the man, "I told yer mam I'd take care of yer so yeh'd better eat good!" Boy glanced down at his arms, they were browned from working in the sun so long and were dirty from mud and dust but were covered in small scratches from trees and bruises from where he'd been 'disciplined', he sincerely doubted that most fathers would consider this 'good care' as his face looked much the same. He dared not say a thing to anyone of his thoughts lest they take it upon themselves to 'discipline' him or, in other words, to use it as an excuse to beat him to a pulp.

As terrible as the situation Boy was in was, he'd known worse and was grateful that his father and his friends were so effective in their work, they kept him alive and protected him, from things outside of the group anyway. The meal they were currently eating had come from a small halfling farmer a few days back who'd foolishly decided to use this road to get his wares from his farm to the market, which was considerably smaller than usual anyway. They hadn't killed the halfling himself, but it was safe to say that he would never walk unaided again.

To look at this group of men, all large and muscly, you would think that they made a tremendous amount of noise while moving through the undergrowth, and usually they would, but they had cut and cleared themselves paths in the bushes, especially around one spot that was nearly perfect to set up camp in. This was where they almost always ambushed their victims.

"Hoy Johnny! Clean out them paths!" yelled Boy's father to a smaller, but still quite strong, young man. Johnny sighed, he plainly did not want such a job, so he turned towards Boy,

"Boy, go clear the paths!" he said, but Boy's father wasn't pleased with this idea,

"I said you go do it Johnny, not Scraps, not Boy, you!" Johnny sighed, he wasn't about to take on the leader of their small group and grudgingly went off to do his work. He didn't dare do it half-heartedly though, if the others found twigs and things on the paths they would blame it entirely on him and that would get him a beating for sure. He'd not cleaned the paths for a long while anyway.

Boy eagerly ate his lamb and drank his ale down, he'd got more than he'd expected and wasn't about to let anyone else have one scrap of it, so he ate it down before anyone else got a chance. Even though food seemed plentiful, they were needing more; eight people eat a lot in one day. Some more horses wouldn't go amiss either. Boy's father was also on the look out for something to sell on the black market; some kind of jewelry or a good, strong weapon, perhaps of elven or dwarvish make, perhaps even westernesse if he was lucky, they always went for a high price. And speaking of weapons, they were in need of better weapons than they had already. One or two of them still had clubs and most of them had swords, though not of the best quality, some of the swords had already broken and were no more than hilts with sharp shards protruding.

Nevertheless they were ready for anything that would come their way.

[ June 10, 2003: Message edited by: dragoneyes ]

[ June 11, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]