Twix Family/Dyan/Ambushed
Healed after the battle in Ukh, Dyan makes his way back south...
Dyan stretches to the sky over Kannoktet as the sun rises. He observes the colours of the sunrise with a strange, one-dimensional flavour. His left eye has healed shut, and while it doesn't hurt, it's not being very helpful either. He gazes into a still pool of water on the roadside from a recent rain.
"I can still see well enough with one eye, why did I even need two?" he muses positively to himself. The claw that raked his face is now polished and sewn below the first on his sleeve, proving himself the stronger over the monsters despite his gruesome scarring.
The long jagged scar traces from the middle of his forehead down the top of his nose, across his left eye, and down to his jawbone on the left side. Minor scars follow it on either side, one having torn his left earlobe in half, the other leaving a red mark on his cheek.
"If only mother could see me now... She saw an apprentice scribe leaving home, if I were to walk in the door now she wouldn't recognize me."
Dyan yawns and pulls rations from his pack, continuing on his lonely road back to Agyr.
Somewhere between Kannoktet and Lastfell, Dyan receives word from Stark, head of the Old Gods' sect, that he has been promoted to a full member of the Order.
He sends a letter...
Noblest Stark,
I am shocked and honored by your generous promotion.
Many thanks, I will continue to serve the Order with all my will and worth.
~Dyan Twix
PS. My apologies for the messy writing, this is the first time I have written since having my recent change in sight, and it proves difficult. this is my second draft ^^;;
Dyan wanders along the lonely highway shortly after sundown, deciding to make progress as much as he can so he can get to Agyr quickly. He's not tired yet, having rested a day and a half after his last battle.
A rustling in the bushes to one side startles him and he stops, hand over his flint ready to make a torch. The noise stops abruptly and an eerie silence descends on the road.
Dyan holds himself from saying anything, trying to figure out if the maker of the noise was man or beast. I sure hope it's not a large band of monsters, though they usually aren't this stealthy...
A warcry echoes from the opposite side of the road and suddenly Dyan is charged by a band of humanoid shadows pounding through the bushes. He pulls up his torch and it flares brightly, surprising the attackers, but the charge continues. Dyan waves the torch in the faces of his attackers and then throws it into a bunch of them, drawing his sword. He assumes a ready position, parrying the first few blows deftly and wishing he'd had time to fire his longbow first. A sharp prick between his shoulderblades pauses him.
"Lay down your sword. We have you." The deep voice holds an edge of humour. Dyan closes his eye and sighs, slowly setting his blade on the ground before rising. "I've heard tales of you, Dyan, up north being heroic and getting your men all slain. Not many places to spend your Noble Tax Money up there, you must be sitting pretty right about now, am I right?"
"I wouldn't call myself sitting nor pretty at the moment," Dyan says wryly, gesturing with his swordless hand at his exotic scars.
"Spare me the humour, noble Dyan. I'll just relieve you of that lovely blue beltpurse there, and we'll be on our way."
Dyan turns to face his adversary, placing his hand defensively on his beltpurse. "Wouldn't it be easier just to run me through with that lovely big blade of yours and walk off with my beltpurse anyway? I'm interested to know why you haven't." The dull flickering of the torch somewhere behind Dyan lights the bandit leader's long face with dancing shadows. A bright and sinister show of teeth appears on the shadowed face.
"Wouldn't want to kill such a good source of income for us, would we boys?" The band encircling the two leaders fills with smirks and a few cynical laughs. "Indeed. The purse now, if you please, that we may both go our separate ways."
Dyan looks hard at the leader, slowly untying the purse with one hand. His single eye seems to glow in the darkness. The bandit leader holds his bold stance.
I'll be glad when we're far away from this one. Rich or no, he's dangerous. The full belt purse is held out to him and he takes it, stepping back. "A pleasure doing business with you, Dyan of Melhed."
"I can't say likewise... mister... have you a name?"
"I have, but it will take more than a question from a victim to draw it out of me. Good even, sir." He pulls a mocking bow and waves to his soldiers. "Away!"
The torch is doused by a kick of sand and the bandits vanish into the bushes. Dyan wrenches his bow off his back and fires into the direction of the noise, scoring a hit on someone invisible who cries out.
"Damn, not used to aiming with only one eye."
Dyan surveys the damages. Relighting his torch, he finds a few coins that fell from his stolen pouch on the retreat. "147 gold, they'll be eating well for a few weeks at least... damned vultures, I didn't think there'd be so many of them about this close to the capital." He discovers the hole in the back of his tunic where the leader's sword had prodded him. "Hey, I just repaired this one..."
The lights of Agyr glow in the distance as Dyan continues on. I'll be there by sunrise...
In the capital, several days later...
Dyan squints in the noonday sun as he surveys his new unit. Slightly larger than the original Hawkeyed bunch, Hawkeyed II is a group of 11, eager and keen-sighted longbow archers. They're the only ones from the recruitment center that were indifferent about, even appreciative of, Dyan's recent scars.
"I trust you're all packed and ready? The evil Children are rampant in the north of our realm, our purpose is only to travel and vanquish them! To the north!" A cheer roars from the fierce new unit.
"Onward!" The dust rises in a sudden plume from the outskirts of Agyr as the Hawkeyed II and their leader Dyan head towards the north, and the promise of shedding monster blood.
