The Written Tapestry

Each weary, heavy step raises a small puff of dust, the dirt leaping into life, only to sink back to the ground in a heartbeat, mimicing the crushing boredom of the long trek. "This would have been easier if we hadn't eaten the horses," the warrior mutters under his breath. A quick roll of his shoulders repositions the heavy, dented armor, as one hand raises to shield his eyes, peering ahead through the glaring sun. "How far do you think we have till we hit that damn town, anyways?" Glancing to the side, he takes a moment to survey his travelling companion, concern briefly flickering across his chiselled, scarred face.

The tall, lanky spellcaster sighed with discontent as he looked off into the distance. His weathered expression turned sour as he peered down towards his traveling companion. "It wasn't -my- idea to eat the damn horses. I'm not the one with the ravenous appetite." He huffed and looked forward once more, pressing his staff into the dirt as they continued their journey. "It shouldn't be too far now...though I'm not too familiar with this land."

One gauntleted hand tightens its grip on the broadaxe slung over his wide shoulders, his free hand dropping from his eyes to scratch at the side of his nose, his whole face liberally coated in a mixture of sweat and dust, essentially leaving a layer of mud on his skin. "Watch it or I'll bloody well eat you next," he mutters again, looking ahead once more. "I think I see a sign up ahead. Maybe a gate or something. You're way up there, can't you see it?" He snickers to himself, though it really seemed to be more of an attempt to stave off the depression of a long journey seemingly without end.

The man groaned at his companion's response. "Right...less talk of cannibalism and more finding a damn town so I can get off my feet. I feel like we've been walking for days." He narrowed his eyes as he spotted what looked to be the main gate of a small settlement. Those same eyes widened at the realization, using his staff to point in the general direction. "Finally! Looks like we've arrived." He footsteps quickened, kicking up a considerable amount of dust along the path.

Coughing and hacking, generally sounding as if he was about to drop dead at any moment, the warrior hurries after his companion, muffled curses littering the stream of death-rattles. "Slow down, you bastard!" he scowls at the back of the man in front of him, though his steps do quicken, hope finally sinking in. "Does it look like it has an inn? Maybe this one'll have some ale worth drinking." As they neared the town, any guards on duty (if there were any) would have quite the sight - they had ACTUALLY been travelling for more than just "days", and probably looked like it. And likely smelled it, too.

The mage and his warrior companion finally arrive at the main gate of the town. His eyes scanned the area for any sign of an inn or tavern. "It's hard to tell from here. Though I'm sure they have -some- kind of arrangement for us." He looked down at his companion and then back at the gate. "So...should we just...walk in?"

Offering a shrug in response, the warrior simply walks through the gate, no one apparently there to stop him. "Seems kind of... dull." Setting a quick, fervent pace (taverns were important, dammit!), he made for the town square. Most important things would be near it at least, so it made sense to start his personal quest there. The heavy clump clump of his metal-shod boots beat a steady rhythm, accompanied by the random scattering of metal rattling and leather creaking.

The mage watched as his companion shuffled off towards the square. He shouted at him as his own feet slowly carried him to the same location. "Dull is good, after what we've been through." Arriving not too far behind him, he too looked around for some sort of respite. "Although now that you mention it, it does seem strangely serene here."

The village was indeed serene, and perhaps even looked small from where the travelers had entered. But upon entering the square, the reason for the rest of the village being so barren of life became apparent. It seemed everyone had gathered in the square in front of a large stage, cages litering it's sides. Some held animals, wild beasts, exotic pets. Others held human beings, elves, halflings. If it was living, it was within in a cage or in shackles on the stage. One such being stood on the stage, a tiny female clad in nothing but a white cotton shift that fell just mid-way down her thighs. Her long ebony hair hung in her face, keeping it from view until what looked to be a guard tugged her chin forcefully into the air and the man at the podium began to shout details out at the crowd.

As the crowd comes into sight, the warrior throws his hand out to halt his companion. His axe, which had been resting so comfortably on his shoulder, is quickly hefted at the ready... still in one hand. Surprisingly, since the thing would have taken both arms of a normal man and still been unwieldy. "Do you see what I see?" he growls under his breath, fingers tightening on the haft of his weapon.

The man stopped abruptly, noticing the large gathering. He nodded silently to his companion's question. Quickly picking his staff up from the ground, the simple walking stick began to hum softly. "Looks to be some kind of...slave auction." He sighed. "Figures...can't find a decent town to save our hides."

The woman on the stage jerked slightly when the guard began to raise her shift, as he'd done to every other humanoid that had been brought to the stage, the man at the podium continuing. "This one is a seamstress from a small village in the east! She's been broken and made ready for any man or woman who buys her! Due to her being untouched, her price is a bit higher than those we've shown you already!" A murmur moved through the crowd at that, and hands began to shoot up. "Come on ladies and gentlemen! She can mend your clothing, spin you silks, annnnd is untouuuuched! Who could say no to that pretty face?" When she jerked again to maintain some dignity, the guard forced her to her knees and tugged her head back by her hair, her bruised and battered face put on full display.

"Just don't let me die again - you're healin' hurts less than you tryin' to bring me back." Eyes smoldering, he mutters something in a strange, gutteral language, his body tensing as he prepares to rush into combat. "Slavers deserve to die," he spits from between clenched teeth. First priority had to be those on the block - So, like a cannonball fired from a gun of rage, the warrior waded right into the thick of the guards from the side, barelling into the first few with the sheer force of his armored momentum. Even as the group was falling, he began to twist to get his thick legs beneath him, the first to recover. It actually paid off, all that drunken stumbling he usually did - he knew how to save his ass in a time like this. Face contorted in rage beneath the miminal protection of his steel helmet, he began laying about with his axe, swinging wide arcs of flashing metal. "Gods. Damned. SLAVERS!" he bellows, each belted syllable lending strength to his arm.

The spellcaster watched as his companion did what he did best. Not wanting to let him have all the fun, he decided to join the fray. "Just be sure to leave some for me this time!" A hoarse laugh left him as he sprinted into combat, aiming his staff at one of the more formidable guards on the block. The tip set ablaze with arcane fire, giving him enough time to aim and throw the staff. As it landed at the feet of the guard, it exploded with a force large enough to knock several of them off of the platform.

Chaos erupted all through the square as the two men tore through the crowd and into the guards. The woman was released just in time to be knocked back by the explosion from the staff. Slamming against the wall, her body fell to the floor of the stage, the only noise she made a soft groan of pain. With the guards distracted by the slaughter, she raised her head and peered through the veil of wet tangled hair at exactly what was happening. Slowly, she wormed her way to the other edge of the stage, the safer edge, curling into a ball near a pile of furs. There wasn't much she could do in shackles save for making herself a much smaller target should arrows start flying.

The arrows did indeed start flying as the rest of the guards finally realized that they were actually under attack. Still, the warrior had a good few moments of mayhem before the first shafts began snapping off of his armor, none finding their way through just yet. By now, his words of rage had descended into meaningless bellowing, his axe cutting great swathes of pain and death. Blood and screams flowed freely from what had apparently become an avatar of death itself, no pity staying his hand in the slightest. The guard who had been manhandling the woman was next in his sight, and quickly cut down, rent nearly in half. He went so far as to spit on the man's corpse, the momentary delay turning to be against his best interests, an arrow catching him in the calf, driving him to one knee. Still, his arm knows no fatigue, still clearing a wide circle around himself that none dared enter, on pain of death.

As the arrows began to fall, the mage quickly uttered an incantation in a foreign tongue. Soon after, a protective shield formed around his frame. His fingers licked with flame as he ran to the aid of his companion. "Brorin!" He uttered another incantation while running towards him, teleporting him a few feet behind the dwarf. He shot a layer of flame that surrounded both himself as his companion.

The girl was cowering for her life as blood and steel rained down around her, her knees tucked up as closely to her chest as she could get them with her arms still bound behind her back. Closing her eyes tightly, she did her best to block it all out, praying in silence that she would at least live through all of this.

As his companion reaches his side, he heaves a heavy sigh, his frame shaking with rage. Fighting through the pain, he gives the stage a quick scan. All the animal cages were on the sides of the stage, and the slaves that had been ON it had all disappeared, as far as he could see. Only a few piles of goods remained, and the last of the group of guards. A wicked smile tugs at the corner of his lips, and he looks up at his friend. "Rethis... Burn them all."