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Fable : Fall of the Guild	By : Samson Category: +A through F > Fable Views: 8222 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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Chapter List
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Darrah The Knight.
Fable : Fall of the Guild

Part VII - "Marauders"

By: Jesse Racine AKA Samson

Original Date Written: February 24, 2012

Timoteo woke up before Bianca did, wakefulness coming over him peacefully. As the veil of sleep slowly withdrew, he opened his eyes a little, taking in a deep breath. He could still feel Bianca warmly snuggled up to his side, the side of her face resting over his chest, her bosom pressing against his side with every gentle breath. He raised his head and looked down to her, seeing she was still asleep, Timoteo resting his head back with a little smile on his face. He gently rubbed along the arm she kept across him, stroking from her elbow to her wrist. After a few minutes, he felt Bianca stir. She slowly took in a deep breath, exhaling against him, yawning a moment later. She began to rise, Timoteo remaining on his back. She looked to his face as she got up on her knees, smiling softly when she saw that he was awake. “How long was I asleep for?...” She murmured, raising her hands to her face, rubbing at her eyes for a few moments.
Timoteo shook his head lightly. “No clue...I fell asleep, too.” She lowered her hands from her face, slowly coming closer to him, resting her hands against his chest as she leaned over. The two shared a gentle kiss before Bianca pulled back slightly. Gazing into his eyes, she quietly asked “Are you hungry?...I am...” Timoteo smiled a little, lightly saying “Yeah, a bit...” Bianca smiled a little more, cooing out “Okay, just stay here...I’ll make something for us both...” She came close, the two sharing two more delicate kisses before she slowly pulled back, rising from her bed. Timoteo watched her leave, Bianca leaving the door to her room open a crack when she departed. Timoteo relaxed for a minute before sitting up on the bed with a light yawn, stretching for a moment before his eyes fell on one of Bianca’s nearby bookshelves. He got up to his feet and walked over just as a voice rose up from his pack, muffled. “Hey Tim, you there?...”
He recognized the voice as Darrah’s, Timoteo’s eyes going sharp as he hastily walked over to his pack. Pulling it open, he grabbed his Guild Seal, the Seal faintly glowing blue with the connection Darrah had established. Holding it in one hand, speaking as he walked over to Bianca’s bed, he said “Darrah, it’s me. It’s good to hear your voice, I’m glad you’re safe.” Darrah sounded pleased as she said “It’s good to hear you, too. Yeah, I made it to my father’s estate. Is, uh...Is Bianca listening?” Timoteo sat down on the edge of Bianca’s bed, saying “No, she’s cooking something.” Darrah let out a little sigh through her nose. “Good, that’s...That’s good. I was hoping I could have a chance to talk to you privately. But, just in case...” Darrah suddenly spoke loudly, angrily saying “Hey, Bianca! You’re evil, and being a witch will only get you burned at the stake! Pathetic Will-user!” Timoteo’s face went annoyed. After a few seconds with no response, Darrah chuckled lightly, saying “Well...Guess she’s really not there.”
“I’m not impressed, Darrah.” Timoteo firmly said. Darrah, amused, said “Oh, calm down.” Timoteo rolled his eyes a little. Darrah’s tone went more serious as she said “Anyway...I’m guessing everything’s fine with you, right now.” Timoteo said “Yeah, we’re fine...No trace of League members trying to walk into Darkwood, anyway. Local wildlife keeps them at bay, I guess.” “I’m not surprised. League tried stopping by my father’s estate a while back, tried to get his support. Luckily, he didn’t back them.” Timoteo raised his eyebrows for a moment. “That’s good. Did they all welcome you as badly as you thought they would?” Darrah let out a little sigh through her nose. “No, actually...My father and mother welcomed me rather happily. My older sister, on the other hand...” Darrah’s tone went annoyed as she said “She’s gotten even cattier since we were kids. She’s not happy that I’m back. I don’t really know why, exactly. Maybe she’s just upset that our parents will probably be paying less attention to her, now that I’m back. Or, maybe she’s just become so unsavoury that she’s naturally this way, now. It doesn’t matter. She’ll be alone with our parents soon enough. They’ll have a talk with her.”
Timoteo nodded lightly, saying “That’s good...And your brother?” Darrah said “Ah, he’s away, apparently. Decided to try and find new lands, took a ship across the sea. I’m told he won’t be back for a few more months.” Timoteo raised an eyebrow, saying “Oh, well...” Darrah was quiet for a few seconds before she said “Um, listen, Tim...” Timoteo remained silent. Darrah slowly said “...I, uh...” She was quiet for another second or two before finally saying “...I think I could use your help with something. Something big. With the Guild gone, I don’t know who else to ask.” Timoteo perked up a little. Darrah, asking for his help? “What’s wrong?” He asked. Darrah’s tone went cool as she said “You remember Benedict?” Timoteo’s face went calm. “Of course. That bandit guy, we killed some of his men in the picnic area, not far from Bowerstone. Then he sent the assassin after us.” Darrah said “Right. He’s got a real army of bandits, and he’s coming straight for my father’s estate. He’s obviously planning on assaulting my father’s land.”
Timoteo’s eyebrows went low, his eyes turning cold. “Can your father defend his land? Didn’t you say he had knights pledged to him, living in his fiefdom?” Darrah’s tone lightened a little as she said “Yeah, he does. It sounds like my father and Benedict have close numbers, but...Benedict uses firearms. With the Guild gone, it’s not like any other Heroes will come and help us...My father can’t buy enough firearms to arm all his men, it would cost an insane amount of gold, and besides, a shipment that size would take ages to reach my father’s land. We’re guessing they’ll reach us in about two weeks, maybe a little more. They apparently number around a few hundred. They’re attacking every little town and village they come across, recruiting people who surrender, which means they might take longer to reach us, but that they might have more men, too.” Timoteo shrugged lightly, calmly asking “So...What do you want me to do?”
Darrah sighed gently. “We can’t make firearms...Our blacksmiths don’t know how. But I don’t think Benedict could arm every last one of his men, and these are bandits we’re talking about, they probably don’t have the best aim imaginable. My father has ranged warriors, they can deal with the bandits that have firearms. It’s still gonna be a big battle. I want another Hero here with me, it’d help with morale.” Darrah sounded eager as she said “Please Tim, we could fight together again, beat back the bandits and keep my father’s land safe! My father’s men would feel a lot braver if they knew there were two Heroes standing with them.” Timoteo was about to speak when another thought came to him. Putting aside his original question for a moment, he asked “Two? You mean you...?” He trailed off, realizing he had walked on sensitive ground. Darrah was quiet for a moment before, in a mutter, she said “I really don’t want to see Bianca again. Not after what I saw the two of you doing...I hate her, Tim. I honest to Avo hate her.”
Her tone lightening just a little, she said “I know what you’re thinking. If two Heroes would be good, three would be even better, right? Well, no. Bianca wouldn’t make anybody here feel any better. She’d only make things worse.” Timoteo sighed softly through his nose, refusing to try and argue with Darrah. Returning to the original question he had had in mind, he said “Well, you say that Benedict’s army might not reach your dad’s land for two weeks. Did you want me to meet you today, and spend two weeks there, or what? Did you want to wait until just a few days before the attack date?” Darrah said “Well, the sooner you get here, the better. My father’s got his men training constantly to prepare for the attack. The longer they see you, the sooner they know a second Hero is with us, the more good your presence will do. Waiting until the last minute won’t exactly help the men’s morale all that much.” Timoteo let out a little sigh.
He was conflicted. Leave Bianca for two weeks, maybe longer, battling at a far-off location? Then again, if Darrah was asking for his help after how upset she had been to find him and Bianca sexually involved together, she must’ve been genuinely quite worried. And besides, if he helped, he might help save innocent lives from bandit blades. He was silent for a few seconds before he said “Alright, I’ll tell Bianca...See how she takes it. Did you want to meet up today?” “As soon as possible, yeah. We can teleport to a Cullis Gate we’ve both been to, and then I can teleport you with me to a Cullis Gate not far from my father’s estate.”
Darrah sounded amused as she said “It turns out there was a Gate near my father’s estate all this time, but I never saw it, it’s in some grasslands behind the mansion. Even if I knew it was there, it wouldn’t have done me any good, considering Gates only react to Seals. I only found out about it an hour ago, when Wesley told me about it.” Timoteo smiled lightly for a moment. “Well...Alright, I’ll contact you after I’ve talked with Bianca.” Darrah warmly said “Okay, don’t take too long, mage.” Timoteo rolled his eyes again, smiling gently, the blue glow shimmering around his Seal disappearing. He stood up from the edge of the bed, slipping his Seal back into his pack as he stepped out of Bianca’s room.
Timoteo walked out into the living room of Grizelda’s cottage, finding Bianca alone. The fireplace was lit, the big black pot sitting over the burning wood. Within, there sat the meal Grizelda had begun preparing before the two had fallen asleep, Bianca heating it back up for the two of them. She was kneeling before the fireplace, looking into the pot as the flames crackled before her. She looked over her shoulder when she heard him entering the living room, smiling a little, seemingly hiding a chuckle as she said “I didn’t realize Grizelda had already made something. It still won’t be warm for a bit, though.” Timoteo smiled a little, waiting a moment before saying “...Darrah just spoke with me.” Bianca stood up, calmly saying “Oh? And what did she have to say?” He walked over to one of the two nearby chairs, sitting down with a sigh through his nose. “She wants me to see her, alone. Do you remember Benedict? He’s the one that sent the assassin after the three of us.”
Bianca nodded, walking over to Grizelda’s usual chair, sitting down. Timoteo leaned over, bringing his elbows to his knees, looking over to her and meeting her eyes as he said “Apparently, Benedict’s got an army of bandits, and he’s leading it straight for Darrah’s home. Now, her dad’s really wealthy apparently, and it sounds like he’s got his own army, so he should be able to defend himself. But Darrah wants me to be there to help boost morale, she thinks having two Heroes there would make a difference.” “And, she doesn’t want me there.” Bianca said, lightly. Timoteo gently shook his head. “No...She says she hates you, after finding us together.” Timoteo raised an eyebrow, wearily saying “Weird, I remember her saying she might never forgive me for my part, but I guess she’s forgotten about that.” Bianca smiled slightly, her smile fading a moment later. Timoteo sat back in his chair, saying “Here’s the problem, though...Darrah says that Benedict’s army shouldn’t be arriving at her dad’s territory for another two weeks, maybe more. She wants to meet me as soon as possible, and she wants me to stay throughout it all, including the battle.”
Bianca blinked, her eyes drifting towards the floor. She smiled a little after a moment, looking over to his eyes, saying “I’ve got to study, anyway. It’ll be fine. I’ll use the time you’re away to figure out where Octavia might be going. Grizelda might have an idea, too. I’ll talk to her as soon as she wakes up.” Bianca stood up from her chair, walking over towards his. Timoteo said “Two weeks won’t be much fun...” Bianca sat down on his lap, turning to the side, leaning against him affectionately. The blueberry scent from her hair drifted through his nose, almost filling his chest with a deep blue mist of lovely scent. She looked into his face, into his eyes, bringing a hand across him to his shoulder, lightly rubbing along his shirt. Her eyes looked a little saddened, but she was still smiling a little. “I know...I’ll miss you. We’ll see each other again when it’s over, though...Please be careful...” Timoteo nodded slightly, bringing a hand to her stomach, gently stroking along the healthy curve of her tummy.
He brought his other arm around her waist, holding her by her hip. “I will, I promise. Two weeks...Could be worse. But, considering I’ll be spending it with Darrah and her family...Ehh, might get awkward.” Bianca raised an eyebrow slightly, smiling a little stronger as she said “How so?” Timoteo shrugged, slowly saying “Weeell, her sister’s apparently not the nicest person in the world...And, Darrah mentioned a mansion, at one point. Given that her family’s supposed to be pretty wealthy, I can only assume that the mansion’s her home. The rich lifestyle...It’s definitely not what I’m used to.” He raised his eyebrows, shrugging again, saying “It might be nice, but Darrah herself couldn’t handle it as a kid. It’ll take some getting used to, for sure. But, still. I’ll feel out of place for a while. And her family’s going to ask me questions like how I know Darrah, and what our time at the Guild was like...” Bianca chuckled softly, her eyes going warm. “I’m sure you’ll be fine.” She said, lightly.
“Mm.” Timoteo mumbled, gazing into her eyes happily. “Are you going to eat before you go?” She asked. Timoteo nodded a little, saying “Of course.” Bianca kissed him on the cheek, murmuring “Good...” Resting the side of her head against his shoulder, her face near his neck, she relaxed, letting her eyes remain shut. The two relaxed together for a few minutes, Timoteo still gently running his hand over her soft shirt, feeling along her lovely belly. She kept rubbing along his shoulder, Timoteo able to feel her breath against the side of his neck. Eventually, Timoteo felt her move. Slowly sitting up straight, slipping both of her arms around his neck, she brought her face near his as she murmured “I love you...” Timoteo gazed into her blood-red eyes, smiling a little, softly saying “I love you, too...” She came close enough for a kiss, the two of them closing their eyes. Timoteo felt her lightly push her lips to his, kissing her back, feeling her plait of hair hang over from her forehead, touching his own.
They slowly kissed a second time, taking their time, enjoying the contact. Timoteo felt himself slowly begin to grow stiff down below as they kissed a third time, Bianca’s moist, plump lips feeling intensely enticing. They kissed a fourth time before a faint bubbling sound became apparent. Bianca quickly pulled back from him, twisting to the side, looking over to the pot in the fireplace. “Oh, it’s ready!” She said, giving him a smile before standing up from his lap. Timoteo smiled, watching her walk over to the fireplace, just a little disappointed that they couldn’t continue with their kisses. He watched her pull on a thick pair of mitts, pull the pot from the fireplace, and hang it from a metal hook that had been driven into the fireplace’s mantel. “It’s a bit hot...It’ll need time to cool.” Bianca said, looking into the pot, her back turned to Timoteo still. He smiled a little more, glancing down to her rump for a moment before getting up to his feet.
Making a conscious effort to be dominant in order to entice her, he crept closer to her as he quietly said “There’s just one thing I’ll need before I leave, other than food.” “Hm?” She mumbled, about to turn around when he came up to her from behind. He brought his hands to her hips, smoothing them around her to her stomach, quickly heading upwards. She gasped, gently. He leaned her closer, touching his front to her back, pressing his loins to her backside. He was sure she could feel his stiffness against her voluptuous tush as he felt his hands up over her chest, running his hands up over her immense mounds. “You.” He whispered by her ear, followed by a soft kiss on the side of her neck. Bianca’s cheeks went bright red, her eyelids fluttering lightly at the electric sensation the unexpected neck kiss jolted through her body. He gently played with her bosom, kissing her on the neck a few more times as she breathed out “If you’re going to be gone for so long...Want to use some condoms?...” Timoteo smiled. “Mhm...” He mumbled, kissing upwards, kissing near her earlobe. Bianca smiled happily, quietly saying “Okay...Let’s go to my room...”
Shortly after making passionate love, the two ate their meal. Timoteo pulled on his chainmail shirt and shouldered his pack, contacting Darrah with his Guild Seal. They spoke for a bit about which Cullis Gate they would both meet at, which was a bit of a challenge. There were few Cullis Gates that they had both activated with their Seals, and fewer still after factoring out the Gates that might be watched by the Anti-Hero League. Eventually, they decided to try and teleport to the Guild’s ruins. Ending their connection, Timoteo attempted the teleportation, but found that his Seal wouldn’t react to the destination. It would seem as if the Cullis Gate had been destroyed along with the Guild, likely destroyed by the flames started by the League. Darrah quickly contacted him again, wondering about the problem, Timoteo informing her of himself having the same issue. He suggested teleporting himself to Lychfield, and meeting Darrah somewhere between it and her father’s territory.
Darrah wasn’t keen on the idea. She said it could take about three days for the two to meet each other halfway, assuming, of course, that the two didn’t miss each other entirely and take longer to find each other. Timoteo said that neither of them really had any other plan, and that three days wouldn’t be such a terrible amount of time; once they found each other, Darrah could teleport back to the estate with him in tow. Darrah tried arguing for a little before giving in and admitting that his idea was best. She told him that, once he got to Lychfield, he should start heading southeast, more easternly than southernly. They said their goodbyes, cutting their connection shortly after. Bianca gave him the rest of the supplies the two had had for their search after Octavia, giving him more a moment later, Timoteo in the end having more than enough food and water to last him three day’s worth of travel. They shared one last kiss before whispering farewells, Timoteo using his Seal to teleport to Lychfield Graveyard...
Calvin sat within a home of Snowspire, wrapped up in dark brown pelts of fur. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all wooden, the wood a pale brown colour. The furniture of the room he was in looked fairly exquisite, the chairs and table around and before him typically covered in wavy water-like patterns. All the furniture, including four chairs and the table, were all made from the same pale wood as the building itself. The circular windows in the walls around him were all covered with frost from the outside, making peering through them quite difficult. There was an empty doorway to his right, revealing a hallway beyond. His pack of supplies and belongings, meagre as it was, rested over the table near him. A few candles were lit on a small square-shaped plate by his pack, giving the room some illumination. Calvin, still getting used to the cold of the Northern Wastes, spent much of his time wrapped up in furs such as the pelts he was currently huddling up in.
Holding his Guild Seal in his right hand, he tried opening a connection with Marst, hoping she had finally come to the decision to join him in Snowspire. He rapidly blinked a few times in confusion when he found he couldn’t connect to her. He tried again, and still found that his Seal didn’t seem capable of locating her. Only three things could leave a Seal unable to be contacted: destruction of the Seal, separation of the Seal from it’s Hero owner, and the Hero’s death in combat rather than peaceful, natural means. None of those instances were good. Calvin stared hard at his Guild Seal. “Either someone else, or Marst herself, destroyed her Seal...Or she abandoned it, maybe to try and blend in...Or she was caught, and it was taken from her...Or the League found her, and...”
Calvin grit his teeth, his eyes slowly narrowing a little. “Damn it!” He shouted out suddenly, angrily whipping his Seal into his pack. Breathing a little quick through his nose, he was filled with frustration as he quickly thought “I warned them, I warned them! The League’s not gonna stop until it gets us all!” His expression dark, he sat back in his chair, his head tilted forwards. “Maybe she’s okay...Marst’s smart, she’s tough. Maybe she just ditched her Seal. But...She said so herself, she’s made a bit of a name for herself, she might’ve been spotted somewhere...” He let out a deep sigh through his nose, shaking his head slowly. “Avo, I hope she's okay...” He muttered, looking upwards in forlorn hope.
Gibbons, dressed in his dark thieving attire, crept behind an Oakvale home. It was late at night, past midnight, but still quite some time before the sun would show it’s radiant face. Gibbons had already assassinated two League supporters, and tonight, he would take his third kill. The executions taking place in Oakvale were far fewer in number than in Bowerstone, but far more humiliating. In Bowerstone, the League at least attempted to seem fair, giving the Hero a chance to defend themselves against the charges brought forth, though a Hero’s defence never seemed to amount to much, in the end. No Hero had ever saved themselves from execution so far, at least. In Bowerstone, a crowd watched, but they did not participate. In Oakvale, things were much different. The League didn’t even try to put on an illusion of fairness, they would simply shout the charges before slaying their captured individual. But first, before the suspected Hero or Hero sympathizer was executed, the crowd could do as they pleased.
Sometimes, they threw rocks. Sometimes, rotten eggs. Sometimes, the crowd simply ganged up and beat on the captured individual; Gibbons had seen no less than four people die from being beaten by the crowd, rather than from the slug of a League firearm. All the while, no matter what the crowd chose to do, they constantly hurled insults, humiliating the individual even further. Gibbons remembered one individual, a man suspected of aiding Heroes in escaping Albion from Oakvale’s shores. Another man had walked up behind the shackled individual, inducing himself to vomit over the suspected Hero sympathizer’s head. The crowd laughed for a good five minutes before the League member present finally executed the individual. Gibbons grit his teeth a little, hatred freshly expanding inside him at the memory. He had avoided Oakvale’s guards on his way to his target’s home, easily slipping past them in the shadows.
Although Gibbons had already killed two people on previous nights, none of the guards had become too alert in their nightly patrols, as sometimes the corpses wouldn’t be discovered for hours, even days. Nobody yet suspected that the assassin only moved at night. Gibbons knew, however, that that wouldn’t last forever. Eventually, someone would figure things out. Gibbons didn’t know his target’s name, but had noticed him at the last execution. He had rushed forwards, whipping a large rock into the face of a woman suspected of providing food to Heroes that had secretly passed through Oakvale. He had thrown the rock at her while rather close, and had ended up opening a deep gash in her forehead, knocking her back to the ground with the force of the throw. By the way he hadn’t been laughing during the attack, not even smiling, his face purely righteous wrath, Gibbons knew that the man wasn’t just siding with the League to a minor degree.
He wasn’t siding with them simply because he thought they were the winning group. He truly did completely believe that the League was right, that all Heroes were evil, that all Heroes deserved the worst of deaths. Gibbons didn’t know which was worse, the people that deeply believed in the League, or the people that only sided with it because they were weak or predatory, afraid to stand with Heroes or simply wanting a chance to hurt someone else and have power over them. Regardless of which was worse, Gibbons had chosen to make the man his third target, having found out where he lived a few days before. Sneaking around behind the home, he came up to a square-shaped window. There was no light coming from the other side, the occupants of the home clearly asleep. Gibbons brought his hands to the window, trying to lift it upwards, hoping it was unlocked. He was hoping he could make a stealthy entrance to the home, rather than deal with anything related to the front door, such as lockpicking.
He found the window locked, it wouldn’t budge. He walked over and tried another window, finding it unlocked, thankfully. Slowly and quietly sliding it upwards, he raised a leg, slipping it in through the opening. Carefully bringing himself through, he found himself in the dark interior of the building’s living room. His eyes quite adjusted to the dark already, he could easily make out the layout of the room. There were a few shelves to his right, holding all number of miscellaneous goods. To his left was a small dresser, a potted plant resting over it. Nearby, over a large oval rug and in the center of the living room, was a rectangular wooden table. A few chairs rested on either side of it. On the left side of the room, there were two doorways. The one on the left appeared to lead to the kitchen, while the one on the right led to a hallway, likely the front entrance of the abode. Gibbons slowly crept over towards the doorway on the right, walking as quietly as possible, making sure the wooden floor beneath his feet never creaked under his weight.
He walked into the hallway, faintly beginning to pick up the sound of snoring. Slowly walking through the hallway, passing the front door, he headed down towards a few other doorways. There were three, two on the left and one at the very end of the hallway. Gibbons walked towards the snoring, coming to the door at the end of the hall. Very quietly, very gently, he grasped and began to turn the knob. The knob turned without a hitch. With the same care, he slowly opened the door, revealing the room. A pair of dressers were to the room’s right, near the door. Across from the door was a wide shelf, covered in goods of all kind, including potions, a few firearms, bags of black powder and lead slugs, and a couple of melee weapons. There was a large bed nearby, the snoring figure lying within. Beside it lay another figure, smaller, thinner. Gibbons reached behind himself, pulling one of his dirks from it’s sheath. Tiptoeing towards the bed, he came to the bed’s left side, beside the snoring figure.
He spotted the man’s face; it was, indeed, his target, fast asleep. The form in the bed beside him was likely his wife, Gibbons decided. He looked back to his target’s face. His eyes grew narrow with anger. He stepped closer to the bed, knowing he couldn’t be as brutal as he may have liked with the kill. If he woke up the man’s wife, he’d need to kill her too, and as far as he knew, she was innocent. He hadn’t seen her face at least, so he couldn’t tell if he recognized her from a crowd attending an execution. The man was lying on his right side, facing Gibbons as he slept on. Gibbons slipped off the glove on his left hand, sticking it into a pocket on his pants. He slowly brought his uncovered hand to the man’s mouth, covering it. The man tried snoring still, his airway blocked by Gibbons’ hand. Before the man was roused, Gibbons brought his dirk over, swiping it across the man’s throat. His vocal cords and arteries slashed, blood immediately began to pour from him, blood hitting Gibbons’ hand from inside the man’s mouth.
The man’s eyes were barely open as he weakly tried to struggle, writhing in the bed a little before Gibbons launched his blade over in another area. Gibbons’ eyes were dark as he plunged his blade into the man’s stomach, stabbing right through the bed sheets. The wound shocked the man to the point that he ceased his struggling, his eyes rapidly fogging over. Perhaps most useful of all, since the attack had hit the man’s torso, most of the blow’s impact had been absorbed by his body, meaning the other occupant of the bed likely felt nothing. Perhaps they hadn’t even noticed the man’s momentary struggling. Gibbons pulled his blade from the man, the bed sheets rapidly growing dark over his stomach as he bled. The bed was soaked with blood in front of the man’s face, his body going pale as he lost his precious red. Gibbons, satisfied that the man was dead, carefully wiped his blade off on some of the bed sheets, cleansing it of blood.
Then, he did the same thing with his bloodied hand, slipping his glove back on a moment later. As quietly as he came, he began to slip away, retracing his steps until he had come to the same window he had entered the home from. Sneaking back out, he quietly shut the window behind himself, leaving no obvious hint as to how he had entered the home. Sneaking back out into the street, he glanced around, making sure nobody saw him. After a few seconds, he casually departed, slipping through the inky darkness as he headed down to the beach. Just in case someone noticed him and followed him, he never went straight home after an assassination. He would go down to the docks, get aboard a tiny rowboat, and make his way to a far side of Oakvale, near his home. If anyone had followed him to the docks, they would simply think he was taking off for some other destination, or at least fleeing Oakvale quietly.
None of them would realize that Gibbons was simply docking the rowboat at a tiny beach a few kilometers down, hiding it among the bushes before slipping into his home. He glanced around again when he made it to the beach, still seeing nobody around. He quickly found his rowboat where he had left it, hidden beneath a high dock. Pushing it down into the water, he got inside, grabbing his oars and quietly beginning to row himself away...
Timoteo appeared over the Cullis Gate near Lychfield, not far from the gate to the cemetery. Knowing that Lychfield Graveyard was to the north, the gates facing south, he got a sense of his direction. Walking off the path, heading into the thick of the skeletal, gnarled trees, he headed towards the southeast...
Timoteo had been walking for numerous hours, the sky remaining dark as he went along. The trees were skeletal for a while, but eventually were steadily replaced by lively ones with foliage. At first, he had thought he was still in Lychfield’s region, knowing that the sky was never terribly bright over the graveyard. After hours of walking however, the sky began to lighten, Timoteo spotting the sun to be creeping over the horizon. He realized, then, that he and Bianca had likely slept through most of the day after confronting Octavia, and had only woken up when the sun had been setting; considering Darkwood was perpetually covered in night, they had had no idea. Timoteo stopped and sat by a tree, watching the sunrise, eating a small meal from his supplies as he did so. He couldn’t help but notice how appealing the situation at hand felt. Alone in nature, eating, quietly enjoying a peaceful sunrise, knowing he still had a bit of a journey ahead of him...For some elusive reason, it felt oddly satisfying.
When he was finished his meal, he wasted no time, getting back on his feet and setting off towards the southeast. He tried to follow a straight path as well as he could, and though he felt like he was doing a fairly good job of staying on course, he couldn’t deny a nagging little worry that he or Darrah might not run in to each other. The worry bothered him for a little while before he finally brushed it off, telling himself that he and Darrah could contact each other via Seals when the time came. He walked for a few more hours before feeling a need for rest. Unfortunately, he saw no suitably shady spots, and didn’t think he could fall asleep with the sun shining down on him, even if the foliage of the trees around him kept it from beating right at him. He walked right up into the afternoon before he felt so exhausted that he was willing to try sleeping, even if it wasn’t completely dark out. Lying down in a heap, using his pack as a pillow, he tried to keep his face pointed away from any bit of light.
With surprising ease, he fell asleep, dipping down into a deep slumber. When he woke up, he had another quick meal before pulling out his Guild Seal, trying to contact Darrah. He was pleased to find that he had slept clear through the night until early in the morning, meaning his sleep schedule would be close to what was typical. Darrah answered his calls, saying “Hey, Tim. Are you making the journey?” Timoteo, his back to a tree with his Seal held in his lap, nodded, saying “Yeah, I started late the day before yesterday, sometime in the night. I slept through the afternoon yesterday, and woke up maybe fifteen minutes ago. How about you?” Darrah said “More or less the same, except my sleep schedule’s normal, heh.” Timoteo shifted his position, yawning lightly before saying “Don’t blame me, Darkwood does that to you. It’s always nighttime there, you lose track of when to sleep. You never know when it’s actually day or night.”
“Yeah, whatever.” Darrah said, in a friendly tone. Timoteo stood up with a stretch, Darrah saying “So, Bianca’s not with you, right?” Timoteo flatly said “No Darrah, she’s not with me.” Darrah seemed content as she said “Good, I’m glad.” She was quiet for a moment before saying “Tim, remember...Remember how I tried talking to you before, about us, and Bianca was listening? We said we’d talk another time.” Timoteo walked up a short hill, speaking as he descended it. “Yeah, I remember.” Darrah curiously asked “Do you want to talk about it now, or when we meet up?” Timoteo shrugged, saying “I don’t mind either way. You decide.” Darrah was quiet for a second before saying “Well, maybe talking in person would be better. Talk again tomorrow?” Timoteo said “Sure. Talk to you around noon.” The Seal stopped glowing, Timoteo slipping it into his pack with a light sigh.
Later on during the day, Timoteo fought a group of hobbes, slaying them easily with a single use of the Enflame spell. He walked for the rest of the day without incident, laying down and resting for the night when sleepiness took hold of him. When he awoke, he quickly resumed his journey, being on the final estimated day of his walk.
Timoteo slipped his Seal back into his pack, having just spoken with Darrah again. She had said she was walking through a short grassy plain between two forests, leaving Timoteo somewhere near the edge of the one she was approaching. He continued to walk through the forest for an hour before an unsettling feeling came over him. He slowed his footsteps, subtly glancing left and right. He felt like someone was nearby, watching him. He couldn’t be sure why the feeling had come over him, he certainly hadn’t seen or heard anything around him. His eyes widened for a split-second just a moment later, a whistling of sorts audible for only a moment before a blinding pain exploded in the middle of his back, just below his pack. He stumbled forwards for a moment before casting Physical Shield, grabbing at his mace, pulling it from his pack as he whirled around. His eyes darted around for a moment before he spotted the assailant.
A bandit, dressed partially in animal furs, stood by a tree not too far away, a long yew bow in his hands. He seemed surprised that Timoteo had magic surrounding him, realization dawning on him that he had just attacked a Hero. Timoteo’s expression turned angry. The bandit turned to run just as Timoteo cast Battle Charge, sprinting after the bandit with immeasurable speed, a trail of orange light spreading out on the air behind him. His Battle Charge ended near the bandit, Timoteo swinging his mace down overhead. The mace made a sickening crunch when it impacted with the top of the bandit’s skull, the skull partially crushing in on itself, the bandit collapsing in a limp heap. What happened next took only a second or two to transpire, happening too quickly for Timoteo to react. Numerous people stepped out from behind trees in perfect unison, all armed with bows, all having arrows notched and drawn in Timoteo’s direction.
He glanced around, noticing that there were even a few people perched up in trees, all aiming their arrows at him. There was easily over fifteen of them, nearly twenty in total. Timoteo didn’t know how many of the arrows his Physical Shield could withstand before falling, or how quickly the bandits could draw more arrows to fire at him. There was a moment of silence before one of the bandits spoke, Timoteo looking over to him when he did. He looked like many of the others did, only he wore a spiked skullcap on his head, dark green war paint coming down over his right eye in a vertical stripe, the stripe starting at his hairline and going down until it reached his jaw. “You just killed my little brother, Hero.” The bandit hissed out from between bared teeth. Timoteo raised an eyebrow, saying “He shot me with an arrow, how would you have reacted?” The bandit’s face quickly went red with rage, his arrow flying at Timoteo. The arrow was simply deflected away from him, hitting the Physical Shield and simply bouncing off in another direction.
Timoteo shot out a hand in the bandit’s direction, blasting him with a shot of Force Push, sending him flying. Timoteo took off in a Battle Charge when the bandits all loosed their arrows, Timoteo racing for the bandit he had just attacked. When he reached him, he found him lying on his back, quickly and desperately pulling his blade from the sheath by his hip. He tried swinging his sword for Timoteo’s legs, his blade bouncing off of the glowing white aura of Will surrounding the Hero. Timoteo swung his mace down as hard as he could, smashing into the bandit’s stomach. The bandit stopped breathing purely from shock, his eyes going stunned with his mouth hanging wide open. Timoteo’s mace had likely caused such trauma to the man’s body, and hit it with such force, that it had pulverised some of his internal organs. Timoteo pulled it away from him, the end that had hit the bandit a little bloodied. He swung it to the side into the bandit’s face.
A massive split appeared in the man’s jaw, blood pouring from it, white bone visible through the wound. His head twisted to the side from the blow, the bandit simply lying there, perhaps slain or at least mortally wounded. Arrows whizzed past Timoteo, flying around him wildly, Timoteo able to feel several impact against his back. He sprinted over towards his left, racing away from the bandits, heading to the east. The bandits let up taunting wordless calls and whoops, as if Timoteo were an animal to be hunted and they were a pack of predators. Timoteo reached over his shoulder, digging into his pack, finding a mana potion. Chugging half of it to stay at maximum energy, he corked the rest, tossing the potion back into his pack. A few arrows would fly around him as he ran, but they never found their mark. Timoteo stopped running when he came to a small clearing, the bandits not far behind, still letting up whooping calls.
He raised an eyebrow, spinning around, facing the group as they raced through the trees. When they saw he had stopped running, they slowed down, but decided against using ranged weapons any further. The bandits, eighteen in number by Timoteo’s reckoning, drew melee weapons as they came closer. One of them, wielding an iron axe, was grinning savagely. “When you’re dead, I’m gonna scalp you and wear it like a hat.” He declared. Timoteo smirked a little. “Come on then, let’s see you try.” He challenged. The bandit snarled, racing ahead of his fellows, raising his axe with a vicious battle cry. Timoteo simply hit him with a blast of Lightning, jolting him hard enough to send him flying back a few feet, the bandit crashing against the ground in a writhing mass. The other raised their weapons, racing towards Timoteo with battle cries of their own. Timoteo cast Ghost Sword before throwing out fireballs, launching out numerous flaming spheres at the bandits.
He hit a good four bandits with fireballs before the rest were too near for him to rely on simple fireballs anymore. He threw his arms up, a short nova of Force Push erupting from around him, a good five bandits being caught in the radius and being launched back a few feet. The bandit he had hit with Lightning got back up on his feet, snarling viciously, eyeing Timoteo murderously. Three of the bandits Timoteo had hit with fireballs were still urgently writhing on the ground, the flames scorching their clothes and burning away their flesh rather rapidly. Only one had managed to extinguish the flames quick enough to avoid serious injury, slowly rising to his feet, rushing back into the fray. Surrounded, Timoteo was about to use Enflame when a bandit rushed for him, swinging for his face. Timoteo instinctively swung his mace over, parrying the blow. His Ghost Sword swiped over at a bandit or two, the bandits adept enough to block the blows.
Timoteo swung for another bandit that tried to get close enough to attack, the bandit jumping back in time to dodge the attack. Suddenly, the bandits all swarmed forwards, hacking and slashing at Timoteo’s Physical Shield. He had barely cast Enflame before his barrier had dropped. The explosion of flames tore out around him, instantly slaying several of the bandits. The rest were thrown back from the force of the magic. They all writhed and rolled around on the ground, trying to kill the hungry flames stuck to their bodies. Some were slain when the flames wouldn’t fade in time, eating away at them until they were quickly reduced to a charred lump. Some managed to get the flames killed in time to save themselves. A few of those that did save themselves took off in a limping run, hurt enough to be frightened of the mage, retreating. Some, only enraged by the pain of the flames, got to their feet with furious growls.
Timoteo was about to launch Force Push blasts at the bandits when a rapid thumping became audible nearby, rapidly approaching. Timoteo glanced over, surprised by what he saw. The figure looked like some sort of knight, sprinting through the forest towards them, their heavy armour clunking as the knight ran along. One bandit was about to swing at Timoteo with his cleaver when the knight jumped up high, jumping over a large tangle of tree roots. Coming over with a cry, the knight’s voice muffled by their helmet, they plunged a beautiful longsword into the bandit from behind, blasting clear through their torso. The bandit cried out in surprise, the sword jutting from his chest. Timoteo’s Ghost Sword managed to land a swipe at a nearby bandit’s throat, slaying them with one clean hit. Timoteo rapidly shot out blast after blast of Force Push at a nearby bandit, hitting them rapidly enough to launch them into a nearby tree, some of their bones surely crunching under the continuous force of the magic.
The knight pulled their sword from the bandit they had just attacked, beheading them with one quick manoeuver before rushing towards another nearby bandit. Swinging over hard with their shield, the knight rammed into the bandit so hard that the man was knocked to the ground, the knight finishing them off with a brutal downwards impalement. A few more of the bandits decided to flee, leaving only one remaining, the one Timoteo had hit with Lightning near the beginning of the encounter. The bandit ran over with a furious shout, swinging his axe for the knight. The knight raised their shield, blocking the blow, the axe clanging as it struck the shield’s tough metal. Timoteo started to charge up another Lightning spell as the knight swung for the bandit’s head, the bandit managing the jump back in time to evade the attack. Timoteo's Ghost Sword swung hard for the man’s back, opening an immense slash down along the man’s back.
The bandit shouted in pain, the Ghost Sword vanishing a moment after landing the attack. The knight spun around in a fancy display of agility, swinging their sword up from below. The bandit’s face went shocked as his right arm was cleaved off at the elbow, the limb, along with the axe still clutched in the lost hand, twirling through the air until it landed off to the side. Before the knight could finish the bandit off, Timoteo grit his teeth and threw his Lightning spell out, striking the bandit hard enough to send him spinning through the air. He hit a nearby tree with a hard clunk, collapsing to the ground in a limp heap. Both Timoteo and the knight were panting a little, Timoteo looking to the knight with an appreciative smile. “Is that you, Darrah?” He asked. He heard the knight chuckle slightly. She withdrew her blade, slipping it into the sheath clipped at her left hip, Timoteo reaching behind himself and yanking the arrow out of his body. “Yeah, it’s me. Good to see you, again. What do you think of the new armour?” She asked, putting her hands to her hips, facing him.
The metal of the armour was light gray, polished and reflective whenever light fell on it. Not a single shred of skin was visible; she was wearing a complete and total suit of platemail, and even in the small parts between armour pieces, metal could be seen, revealing she wore chainmail beneath. Her great helm had wings on either side of it, the wings crafted to look feathery and somewhat holy. Her eyes weren't visible as the great helm only had thin slits for her to see through, the slits too dark for him to make out her eyes. Her sabatons, the metal boot-like armour pieces she wore over her feet, had matching wings on the outside sides of each. A fabric cape of sorts was attached to her, clipped to something beneath her pauldrons and hanging down behind her to nearly the backs of her knees. The cape was a simple regal purple colour, with gold trimming along the edges. From gauntlets to greaves, pauldrons to a fauld beneath the cuirass, she looked every inch a respectable and feared knight.
The sheath at her hip was brown leather, black metal along the edges and tip, perhaps to help protect the blade while it was at rest. Her kite shield, made of the same metal as her armour, had a large design engraved into the face. Timoteo stared at it curiously for a moment before Darrah glanced at her shield, saying “I told you, don’t you remember? It’s my family’s heraldic crest. I drew it for the blacksmith and asked him to engrave it over the shield. It’s the proper thing for a knight to do.” Timoteo nodded, saying “Yeah, I remember. Was a while back, but I remember.” Darrah chuckled, raising her hands to her great helm. Since the kite shield stayed with her forearm as she raised the limb, he figure the shield must’ve been somehow fastened to her. She pulled off her great helm, shaking her head for a moment once it was off. She had her long hair done up in a tight bun over the back of her head, likely to keep it from getting in the way of her helmet.
“Also,” Timoteo thought, “the armour probably weighs a ton, she could be burning under it. Having her hair down and on her neck would probably only heat her up even more.” She held her helm under her arm and by her side, half-smiling a little as she looked along him. Timoteo raised his chin a little, smiling slightly, jokingly saying “I don’t know if it was worth as much as you spent, though.” Darrah half-smiled more, raising an eyebrow, saying “It was expensive, sure, but really, it was a bit of a bargain. Be glad, Tim.” Taking a few steps closer to him, smiling smugly, she raised her eyebrows, saying “Now, I’m more than capable of keeping you safe, mage.” Timoteo’s eyes narrowed, a wide smile on his face, his tone amused as he said “Who says I need protection?” Darrah just grinned, seemingly pleased that her comment had gotten a reaction out of him. Timoteo raised his arms by his sides, still indignant, saying “I can take care of myself just fine! Or have you forgotten, Darrah, that I can cast spells?”
Darrah turned to the side a little, grinning. “Pfft. Spells.” She retorted. Looking back to him, speaking in a patronizing tone, she said “Don’t worry Tim, I’ll keep all the nasty bandits away!” Timoteo gave up, his expression turning a little unimpressed for a moment before he rolled his eyes, shaking his head a little. Darrah smiled, pleased that he wasn’t offering a further challenge. She walked up to him, reaching behind herself, pulling out her Guild Seal a second later. Timoteo wasn’t sure where she had gotten it from, but he figured that her armour had a spot where the Seal could be inserted into, the spot invisible as it was likely hidden beneath her cape. Neither of them hugged each other in greeting, Darrah simply holding her Seal in one hand, offering her other. He took her hand for a moment, Darrah’s Seal giving off a glow for a second before the two disappeared in shimmers of azure light...
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Fable : Fall of the Guild