Caravan - Open Fantasy RP - Jump right in!

Algar laughed at the boy's question. "Cause we need someone to fetch us our tea and slippers in the mornins," he replied mockingly, still holding tightly to the boy's arm. They'd acquired recruits like this before. Most ran away at the first chance they got, but more often than not, were back within a few days when they were cold and hungry with no where else to go.

--

The spilled pickles made the wooden floor of the wagon slick and the two figures struggling within would have made for a comical scene had they not both been struggling to kill the other. Rorik, face still covered in flour, saw Linden going for the weapon and grabbed the back of Linden's coat, trying to haul him back, intending to get an arm around the man's neck.
 
"Yeah," Mavis scoffed, his anger making him careless and foolish enough to buy into the bandit's game and retort something back. "The tea and slippers which you stole from us! You are nothing more than a pack of barbarians, selfish and cowardly, to steal from honest folk like us." He broke off from his rant and glared at Karin and Algar, then seemed to add as an afterthought, "the trip up the hill is probably too difficult for you to manage any ways."

--

As he lunged forwards to grab the weapon, Linden's foot slipped on a smeared pickle and he didn't get the footing he needed to make it across the wagon. As a result, Rorik managed to right himself in time and halt Linden's forward progress by grabbing his jacket, and wrapping his arm in a choke hold around his neck. Realizing quickly that with the floor so slippery there was no way he could pull Rorik with him, Linden decided to give the bandit leader a taste of his own medicine. Lets see how you like it! Instead of resisting, he pushed himself backwards into Rorik hoping to wind him against a crate or barrel long enough for Linden to reach the weapon.
 
Rorik smiled grimly as he managed to get his arm around the caravan guard's throat and started pulling it tight, finally feeling like he had the upper hand. But when Linden pushed him backwards, the bandit let out a grunt as his back slammed into the corner of a crate, causing him enough pain that he loosened his hold on Linden's neck. He tried to regain his hold, but Linden's plan had worked like a charm and Rorik couldn't gain enough breath to act.

--

As the remaining caravan guards started a slow retreat up the hill, Terrick made his way to join them, determined not lose any more men than had already succumbed to the battle. With their leader preoccupied with Linden, there was some confusion among the bandits; some pressed the attack while others hung back, guarding the wagon and preparing to grab their loot and be gone from the area as soon as possible.
 
Algar laughed at the boy's question.  "Cause we need someone to fetch us our tea and slippers in the mornins," he replied mockingly, still holding tightly to the boy's arm.  They'd acquired recruits like this before.  Most ran away at the first chance they got, but more often than not, were back within a few days when they were cold and hungry with no where else to go.

--

The spilled pickles made the wooden floor of the wagon slick and the two figures struggling within would have made for a comical scene had they not both been struggling to kill the other.  Rorik, face still covered in flour, saw Linden going for the weapon and grabbed the back of Linden's coat, trying to haul him back, intending to get an arm around the man's neck.


Karin laughed aswell. "Want me to get him to the base?" She asked when she was done laughing.
 
Aware that the blow would not keep Rorik down for long, Linden scrambled forward as quick as the slick floor would allow. He shoved the fallen, half empty barrel of pickles out of his way and grabbed the sword from under the mess of preserved cucumbers. The handle was slippery with pickle juice, so he hurriedly wiped the blade and handle off on his pants. Due to the chaos inside the wagon, and the small amount of soundproofing that the canopy offered, Linden hadn't heard Terrick's call to surrender and was unaware that the rest of the caravan guards were retreating.

--

Mavis fell silent and looked away from Karin and Algar. As the adrenaline rush of battle gave way to fear, he slowly began to realize how tired he was. His arms and legs were cold and sore, the wet mud had soaked his clothes through right to the skin and was sucking all of the warmth away from his thin frame.
 
"Yeah," Mavis scoffed, his anger making him careless and foolish enough to buy into the bandit's game and retort something back. "The tea and slippers which you stole from us! You are nothing more than a pack of barbarians, selfish and cowardly, to steal from honest folk like us." He broke off from his rant and glared at Karin and Algar, then seemed to add as an afterthought, "the trip up the hill is probably too difficult for you to manage any ways."

--

As he lunged forwards to grab the weapon, Linden's foot slipped on a smeared pickle and he didn't get the footing he needed to make it across the wagon. As a result, Rorik managed to right himself in time and halt Linden's forward progress by grabbing his jacket, and wrapping his arm in a choke hold around his neck. Realizing quickly that with the floor so slippery there was no way he could pull Rorik with him, Linden decided to give the bandit leader a taste of his own medicine. Lets see how you like it! Instead of resisting, he pushed himself backwards into Rorik hoping to wind him against a crate or barrel long enough for Linden to reach the weapon.
"Ooo! Feisty man!" karin's blue eyes glowed.
 
Mavis ignored Karin, his parents had strictly taught him that arguing was futile, a waste of time. Especially with those who couldn't be reasoned with. He wasn't going to be drawn into their game like a little kid. Instead, he turned his head as best he could and watched where the guards were retreating to. If he could escape the camp and find his way back to the wagon, then he would know where to find them.
 
Mavis ignored Karin, his parents had strictly taught him that arguing was futile, a waste of time. Especially with those who couldn't be reasoned with. He wasn't going to be drawn into their game like a little kid. Instead, he turned his head as best he could and watched where the guards were retreating to. If he could escape the camp and find his way back to the wagon, then he would know where to find them.
Karin looked at Algar. "I'll take him." She said quietly grabbing Mavis by his arms she dragged him into the forest.
 
Mavis protested with a weak cry of pain and a half-hearted tug in the direction of the retreating guards. He was so cold and tired that he he didn't have the energy to fight back.
 

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