The night skirmish while brief had drained energy from both sides. The caravan was slow and the bandits sluggish still when the sun rose. The caravan changed it's marching formation to six rows with three columns, again the last one sticking out from the middle of the rear.
In a white carriage with red trims Drago (Dra-go) sat up, a blanket covering his lower half and that of Aireal (Air-e-al) and Midnight.
??? 1: Tell me what is it like being offically nineteen now?
Drago: You mean i wasn't already? Hmm, perhaps for my twentieth year I will elminate my uncle.
??? 1: You can dream.
Drago: A dream that can become reality, i just need the time. At the very least i have the demi-humans on my side if only because they hate my uncle. It is not as if they have a particularly positive disposition towards me.
??? 1: I shall refrain from this topic any further, but why do you hate your uncle?
Drago: Nethan (ne-than), it is not a matter of hate. He is in my way and that is all there is too it. Much like these bandits are in my way.
Nethan: So he is an obstacle to you? Is everything a obstacle and tool to you?
Drago: In the end everyone is a tool or obstacle to be overcome by someone else. Including these two, I could rewrite their very memory and they would be none the wiser.
Nethan: Another taboo you surely broke at some point.
Drago: Perhaps, perhaps not, who knows?
Nethan: some day your taboo breaking will come back to haunt you.
Drago: *smiling* Who said it has not already come back to bite me in the ass?
Nethan merely sighs at this response and leaves his driver's post as the carriage comes to a halt.
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As the caravan came to a halt the sun was already painting the sky a shade of purple and orange as it descended. Tents were being set up in the center as for the wagons themselves, they were placed in a circle on the outside. The area they took respite in was not far from the mountains, with a forest near by on their right flank. Shortly after settling themselves in smoke could be seen on the rise in the horizon from the west. The captain of the mercenaries, Henry, moved into a tent in the middle of the formation. It was a large tent, or at least larger than the rest.
The tent had a table in it and four men sitting around it. The one that stood out the most was once more Drago, with his purple neckerchief and tail armor ending in a mace head.
Drago: Henry, what are you doing here? I thought we had an agreement that all you need to do is sit back and guard the colonist and her.
Henry: At the very least you can inform me of your plans. Tell me are you being an ass just to be an ass?
Drago: *shrugging* You made it clear you wanted nothing to do with me and I agreed to that sentiment, all you need to do is guard the colonist.
Henry: Yet you endangered the colonist! You endangered them all by leaving them outside of the caravan in the rear sticking out.
Drago: You are talking about last night yes? I had placed the colonist and their wagons there on purpose. It is not as if they were in complete danger. They were meant to be a tempting target. A competent commander would be cautious in taking the bait or avoiding it all together.
Henry: An if their leader were incompetent?
Drago: Than we would slaughter them by the dozen. There is only do or do not. No plan ever truly survives contact with the enemy.
Henry: Are they tools for you to play with?
Drago: Henry, that was arguably the safest place for them to be. What if the line did not hold and their vencar ran rampant in the caravan's formation? Sure to an extent their movement would be restricted, but so would ours. The colonist would be running away and getting in the way of the troops. Did I use them? Sure, do I regret using them that way? No. At the end of the day whether or not I see them as tools is inconsequential to the fact of the matter; that the plan succeeded and the colonist unharmed.
Henry: Well than as I am in charge of the security for the colonist I demand a seat here at this meeting and all future meetings.
Drago: Sure, no issue as long as you do not mind standing. Less you have brought over your own chair for this meeting?
As the meeting finally begins without interruption Henry stands near the table.
Drago: Now as we all know there was recently a sighting of smoke. I think we should send twenty-five carnosaur riders to investigate.
Henry: Are you sure? That is about thirty percent of our cavalry. Totaling your men with mine we have about a hundred-twenty infantry and about eighty three cavalry.
Drago: Yes, they will be investigating and potentially harassing them if it turns out to be our bandit fiends.
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As the carnosaur riders took off a pair of gleaming eyes spied at them from afar, on top of a hill in the forest.
??? 2: What are you looking at?
??? 3: *tossing a spy glass over* Look there towards the plains. They have sent a small number off to the direction of the smoke.
??? 2: Ah, I guess that means it's off to phase b of the plan then.
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--Four hours later--
As the twenty five carnosaur riders arrived they could see ten or so men around a camp fire, before they mounted their vencars and took off. The twenty five gave chase to them through the plains to a rocky out crop on a hill. The vencars were slow on the hill slope and they gained ground on them.
Suddenly the vencarie riders turned around and waited. A carnosaur screamed in agony causing the rest to slow down and stop. As the carnosaur lifted it's foot up something was embedded in it's foot in the middle toe. As the rider that had dismounted from his carnosaur pulled it out, he could see what it was. A galtrap, they were purposely led here. As the rider threw it away and quickly remounted a bolt flew in his direction.
??? 4: Captain, we need to get out of hete.
Captain: *climbing onto his carnosaur* No shit captain obvious!
From behind the rocks crossbow men came out and fired, one bolt striking the captain's chest. It had barely scratched his chest underneath his breastplate and gambeson, but had it gone deeper his lungs, stomach, or heart may have been damaged.
Without a care as to what had happened the captain took the reigns in hand and encouraged his beast to run as fast as it can with his boots.
The hunters turned prey ran for their lives.
As the twenty five approached a patch of high grass near the camp fire bolts flew out, singing like a bird as they found their mark in throats. A lucky or unlucky bolt depending on who you are found it's way into an eye socket, burying itself deep into the skull. The rider screamed in agony as he fell off of his carnosaur banging his head on the hard ground, knocking him out cold.
Vencarie riders charged out of the grass with cavalry maced at the ready.
Captain: *pointing his spear towards the new enemies ahead of them* CHARGE!!!!!!
The captain and his men had the reach advantage with their spears, but they were out numbered; afterall not everyone can take on more than one opponent at a time. To make matters worse, although those behind them were slowed down by their own galtraps it was only a matter of time before they caught up.
As the captain's men stabbed with their spears at one another would come at their blind spot. As they fought they had their skulls caved inwards and dented, one by one falling. A carnosaur poked it's head upwards and grabbed onto a vencarie rider's arm, simultaneously cutting and crushing it with it's jaws, just before yanking him downwards onto the ground.
The last thing the rider saw was a three clawed foot of the beast coming down onto his face.
The ground and grass had been painted a vibrant red with blood.
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--Eight hours later--
In a large tent Drago paced back and forth anxious, just watching him would give one a feeling of something wrong or that he was pulsating with energy. The first to break the ice was commander tate.
Tate: Sire, calm yourself. If it will relax you I will take the remainder of the cavalry and go my self.
Drago: NO! It could be apart of their trap!
Tate: An it could also be apart of their plan to widdle us down mentally! We must respond with force.
Drago: I forbid it!
Tate: So we do nothing? Just let them die?
Henry: Sire, if I may. If we let them take out small groups of our people we will lose our morale. Our men will be chained by fear, responding in force may not be the best choice but it may also help retain our morale if we succeed in our response.
Drago: Nae, if our response fails it will just demoralize them even faster.
Tate: An if we do not even try to respond they will grow bolder. What is next? Our hunting parties? It will be death by a thousand cuts.
Drago: ...F-fine...fine, go ahead respond with the rest of the cavalry. But do not come back crying to me.
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The rest of the caravan's cavalry left in the direction of the camp fire. The guards on duty meanwhile were doubled.
??? 2: Phase b is here.
??? 3: Wait for the boss.
??? 2: I know.
