[Child of the 7th Age]

Guthwine:

As blind fury took hold, Lotar glared over at the retreating figure of Guthwine who had intentionally defied his earlier order to pull back and leave the inner rooms of the farmhouse and the family's sleeping chambers untouched. It was too risky an undertaking, and he had no wish to face the angry herder and his sons, armed with pitchforks and heavy skillets. Anyways, he reasoned, they'd gotten what they came for -- a good haul of smoked meats and serviceable tools along with a dozen chickens and a litter of suckling pigs now hauled off kicking and mewling inside several large sacks. Two of the men had even managed to corral a huge grunting boar and a pair of sows and, by merciless prodding with long sharpened sticks, herded the pigs out into the black storm towards a small cart that rested some distance away under cover of a wooded grove. The only casualties in the raid were the farmer's faithful guard dogs who both lay on the ground, whimpering piteously with their backs and legs askew and a gash along the throat made by a thrust from Gareth's dagger.

Guthwine greeted Lotar's howl of indignation and his order to turn back with outright scorn. With a mob of new recruits chasing at his heels, he shut out the unwelcome words as further proof of Lotar's cowardice and lunged forward to the main door that led to the family's living quarters. One of the new recruits took his axe to the wood and smashed it in. The door tottered under the assault and finally heaved back on its hinges, with splintered shards of wood flying off in all directions. Within an instant, the band had pushed inside with the men pillaging and destroying everything they could set their hands on.

Dishes went crashing to the ground: pillows and mattresses slashed open as goose feathers spun through the air and the bandits made short work of the family's living area. Guthwine ignored the looting, and focused on locating the Breelander who owned this farmstead. Whatever valuables the family possessed would probably be with the farmer. The family must be hidden or was attempting to flee, just as his own villagers had done months before in the foothills of the Misty Mountains.

Guthwine mounted a small ladder that led upward to a croft filled with hay and a few tumbled bedrolls, evidently belonging to the farmer's children. At the far end of the loft was a window overlooking a twisted apple tree standing so close to the house that its branches actually scraped against the outer stone. There were puddles on the floor, since the shutter had been thrust back and the rain pelted sideways through the opening.

For one instant, there was complete silence. Then the sobbing of a child broke through, and a half hidden form of a small maid crouched lower in the hay vainly attempting to shield herself. Guthwine went over and yanked up the trembling body, holding it by the collar. "I'll do you no harm, lass, but where is your father?"

One by one, hazy forms emerged from underneath the hay, all but the two eldest sons who had already made their escape through the open casement. Guthwine dropped the girl and turned around holding his sword as he advanced towards the farmer who still clutched an old metal box to his body, "I'll not harm ye or your kin," Guthwine growled to the cowering man, "but we have need of that. Turn over the box...now! Or I swear I will split your head."

Without hesitation, Tom hurled the metal container to the ground and retreated to the far side of the croft, his body shaking and face stricken. His wife came over and stood directly in front of him, cradling his head between her hands, her own body trembling and wracked with fear.

There was a welcome jangle of coins as Guthwine swept up the box from the floor in his free hand and then backed away, retreating to the ladder. But before he could set his foot on the top rung, Gareth came barrelling up from the floor below, stepping into the loft with a broad grin etched on his face and his daggers cocked forward, pointing towards the farmer and his wife huddled in the corner.

Guthwine bellowed out a protest, "Enough! There's no more to be had here! Get back to the others!"

His own face a mask of rage, Gareth clenched the daggers by the hilt and, for a moment, seemed ready to cast them at the couple, disregarding the order that he had been given. Guthwine instantaneously pitched his body forward, hitting Gareth squarely in the chest and propelling him through the opening where the ladder had been propped. The ladder crashed backwards, as both men hurtled to the ground and landed with a thud, the cash box tumbling down after them, thankfully unopened, just a few paces away.

Guthwine pulled himself upright and bellowed at the looters, "Alright, we're done. Back to camp and fast!" He headed out the door followed by a string of men loaded down with the personal possessions of the family. The two rooms they left were in a complete shambles with furniture overturned and belongings sprawled out everywhere in complete confusion. A small doll lay on the window ledge, its head and feet detached. Guthwine came roaring out, triumphantly holding up the coin box. He caught the disapproving eyes of Lotar; Eruantalon stood by his leader's side....

[ November 23, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]