Chapter 129
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Chapter 129
Crouched in the trees, Jorani stared down the empty road from his hilltop vantage point. Keeping watch, the shittiest job there was, hugging a damned tree for hours while everyone else was dicing, drinking, and fucking. Sitting beside him, Ral kept him company, a daft fucker if he ever laid eyes on one. The hefty halfwit had a full name, some long, southern gibberish, but damned if Jorani could pronounce it. Dumb as a bag of bricks, the giant blockhead attached himself to Jorani for years despite all efforts to drive him away. Humming quietly, Ral rocked side to side, swinging wider with each pass. Blowing out a sigh, Jorani shoved Ral away. Keep your shit-stinking self away from me ye dumb knuckle dragging oaf.
Smiling like an idiot, Ral clung to the branch, switching over to swinging his legs. Sorry Jor, forgot to bath meself again.
The dam on his anger breaking, Jorani smacked Ral on the arm repeatedly, the meaty bastard smiling through it all. When do ye ever 'bath'? It's bathe you moron! And I only ever seen ye pour a bucket of water over yer daft head, if ye ever waded into a proper pond, ye'd taint the drinking water fer years. I wouldn't be surprised if yer balls had mould growin' on em, ye dirty fucking bastard. A little soap ain't gonna kill ye.Updated from novelbIn.(c)om
Sorry Jor. I bathe when we go home.
Bah... What we doin' up here anyways Ral?
Boss said to watch. Wagons coming east.
Hmph, we been here for hours and the day's almost done, ain't no wagons coming east. Nothin' to do cept watch wagons goin' west, that's where they all headed. Can you believe that last convoy? A hundred and fifty fucking guards for three tiny wagons, a fucking waste. Ain't worth the risk for three lousy wagons. How's a man to make a decent living like this Ral?
Lotta guards Jor.
That it is, and you know what I hear? Some Society bitch is on her way to Sanshu with a few thousand soldiers. Soldiers! Why don't those bastards go fight the damn Defiled? Harassment is what it is, harassment of common, decent folk. All we want is a tiny taste, enough to drink and eat, keep our bodies warm and bellies full. Inhumane bastards, treadin' on us poor workers.
I like drinkin, Jor. Don't like bein' up here though, too many bug bities.
Well that's one good thing about havin' ye here Ral, the bugs leave me well alone. Glaring angrily at the empty road, his fingers dug into the tree trunk as he continued to vent. We Freebooters are getting squeezed out here in the fucking sticks, last winter was a tight one, I tell you that. Now the convoys are gettin' too risky to roll over. Ye know where we should go?
Dunno Jor, where?
East, to hit those farms and villages, that's where. Hardly any guards, we could ride right up to their houses, robbin' and pillagin' as we please, living like kings. Them other gangs all know it, which is why they divvied it up nicely. Those Butcher Bay bastards, Crossbone cocksuckers, and Azure asslickers, what gives them the right to tell us where to rob? Bunch o' former soldiers, fucking cowards are what they are, can't stand against no Defiled so they gotta take jobs from common working folk. I bet those farm girls all spread their legs at the sight of em, all 'O please Mr. Bandit, don't hurt my family, I'll suck your cock real good' all while enjoying gettin' fucked nice and proper. Those milksops, sucking at the teat of abundance while we out here sufferin' in the wilds.
I like teats Jor. Chey lets me touch hers sometime if I ask real nice. They're soft and fluffy
Jealousy flared through him. That tramp'd let anyone touch her giant teats for little more than the price of a drink. Ye might be the only Freebooter who ain't fucked her Ral. Scrub the mould from your balls and she might even give em a good lickin'. It wasn't true, she'd sooner cut a man's balls off than touch them, but it'd make for a good laugh watching Ral ask. A tough bird she was, cold and murderous.
Really Jor, you think so? Ral's face screwed up in thought. I dun like the deep water though.
Suddenly stopping, Ral turned and asked, Which way I supposed to be goin' Chey?
...Fuck it all, maybe it was hopeless.
As if the Mother herself were stepping in to confirm his thoughts, he watched as a shadow crept behind Chey, eyes widening in surprise as Ral bellowed a warning, gently placing him on the ground before rushing off to fight. A short-lived scuffle, Chey and Ral were both beaten soundly by a half-dozen soldiers, clubbing Ral viciously as he struggled to resist, until he finally collapsed to the ground, bloody but still breathing. For now.
Closing his eyes, Jorani waited for the cold knife to cut across his neck.
It never came.
Rough hands picked him up and dragged to the central square along with Ral and Chey, the Freebooters gathered with little resistance. The boss was there, clutching his belly and rocking back and forth, eyes darting about to study their captors. Hurriedly averting his eyes, Jorani clung to the thread of hope that the boss was faking his pain. A skilled warrior, the boss might have purged the poison by now, biding his time for a chance to strike.
Well, well, well. Look at all the bandits, all gathered in a group. Grinning evilly, a young man strolled forward, studying the Freebooter's as his soldiers ringed them. Average height and slim build, he was striking in his layered leather armor, glossy black and beautifully crafted. A shortsword on his hip and a punching shield slung across his back, he peered out from beneath his open-faced helmet, enjoying the pain and misery on display before him. This was the man who poisoned them, it had to be, only the wealthy nobles knew how to be so cruel and callous, playing with human lives like a cat toys with a mouse. And you all said my plan wouldn't work.
I never said that, I said you shouldn't go through with it. A maiden appeared at the cruel noble's side, her helmet framing her beautifully freckled face and luxurious locks of fiery red hair. Poison is a weapon without honour. We could have subdued these bandits without it, and you wasted all that money on wine. At the maiden's side stood a fierce warrior woman in shimmering armour, glaring at him for daring to look upon the goddess, and he quickly averted his eyes. Damn, why were these rich young heroes out hunting bandits? Even worse for them to be using underhanded, despicable means when they were so well equipped, it was cruel and unjust.
It's fine, we haven't even made it to Sanshu and we've captured like a hundred bandits with no casualties. I'm sure some of them have bounties for us to collect. Hey what's your little gangs name? The young noble stepped forward, taking him too close to the boss while still unarmed.
Foolish child, the Freebooter's will be your death! Roaring in defiance, the boss stood tall and stretched his hand out, close to a dozen Freebooters standing with him, improvised weapons in hand. Guided by his chi, the boss's spear jumped into his hands in the blink of an eye. He thrusted forward at the noble brat, aiming to take his life. The spear tip flashed in the firelight as it arced towards the noble's throat. A loud clang rang out, and the spear gouged a furrow in the ground. Falling to his knees, the boss stared at the noble in confusion, his mouth moving wordlessly as blood spilled from his throat, spraying Jorani with a warm, red mist before falling face first into the dirt.
Absently wiping his sword, the noble's eyes narrowed in thought as arrows and bolts bombarded the few who dared to stand, all resistance quelled in mere seconds. When did he draw the weapon? How did he move so quickly? Were there any Freebooters on the list?
Yes. The armored warrior woman answered in cold monotone. Kosal the Impaler, five gold bounty.
Five gold? With a name like 'the Impaler', you'd think he'd be worth more. Alright, so where is he? Someone point him out, don't make me ask again.
The noble's glare swept across the Freebooters, promising torture and worse with a single glance. Several fingers pointed at the boss's corpse, and the noble's face twisted in disappointment before asking about loot. Shivering uncontrollably, all the fear Jorani previously felt for the boss transferred over to this demonic young noble who killed as easily as flipping his hand. Eyes widening as he spotted the token on the noble's waist, the pieces came together in his mind. A young Warrant Officer with eyes of gold and orange, it could only be one person. Falling Rain, the undying murderous savage, a lunatic who killed any who displeased him. Hailing from a tribe of reclusive mountain warriors who were almost half-defiled themselves, the Bekhai were the Emperor's secret weapon unleashed against the Enemy in these trying times. Daring to take on the Society, Rain was a torturer and madman, capable of wielding dark magics, controlling monstrous beasts and bathing in the blood of the fallen to gain unholy strength, unmatched by any his age.
There was no hope to be had now that they were in the clutches of a psychopath. Tearing his eyes away, he looked down at Ral who laid bleeding and unconscious. Meet me the next life brother, I'll look out for you properly next time, treat you right.
Chapter Meme
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Chapter 129
Crouched in the trees, Jorani stared down the empty road from his hilltop vantage point. Keeping watch, the shittiest job there was, hugging a damned tree for hours while everyone else was dicing, drinking, and fucking. Sitting beside him, Ral kept him company, a daft fucker if he ever laid eyes on one. The hefty halfwit had a full name, some long, southern gibberish, but damned if Jorani could pronounce it. Dumb as a bag of bricks, the giant blockhead attached himself to Jorani for years despite all efforts to drive him away. Humming quietly, Ral rocked side to side, swinging wider with each pass. Blowing out a sigh, Jorani shoved Ral away. Keep your shit-stinking self away from me ye dumb knuckle dragging oaf.
Smiling like an idiot, Ral clung to the branch, switching over to swinging his legs. Sorry Jor, forgot to bath meself again.
The dam on his anger breaking, Jorani smacked Ral on the arm repeatedly, the meaty bastard smiling through it all. When do ye ever 'bath'? It's bathe you moron! And I only ever seen ye pour a bucket of water over yer daft head, if ye ever waded into a proper pond, ye'd taint the drinking water fer years. I wouldn't be surprised if yer balls had mould growin' on em, ye dirty fucking bastard. A little soap ain't gonna kill ye.Updated from novelbIn.(c)om
Sorry Jor. I bathe when we go home.
Bah... What we doin' up here anyways Ral?
Boss said to watch. Wagons coming east.
Hmph, we been here for hours and the day's almost done, ain't no wagons coming east. Nothin' to do cept watch wagons goin' west, that's where they all headed. Can you believe that last convoy? A hundred and fifty fucking guards for three tiny wagons, a fucking waste. Ain't worth the risk for three lousy wagons. How's a man to make a decent living like this Ral?
Lotta guards Jor.
That it is, and you know what I hear? Some Society bitch is on her way to Sanshu with a few thousand soldiers. Soldiers! Why don't those bastards go fight the damn Defiled? Harassment is what it is, harassment of common, decent folk. All we want is a tiny taste, enough to drink and eat, keep our bodies warm and bellies full. Inhumane bastards, treadin' on us poor workers.
I like drinkin, Jor. Don't like bein' up here though, too many bug bities.
Well that's one good thing about havin' ye here Ral, the bugs leave me well alone. Glaring angrily at the empty road, his fingers dug into the tree trunk as he continued to vent. We Freebooters are getting squeezed out here in the fucking sticks, last winter was a tight one, I tell you that. Now the convoys are gettin' too risky to roll over. Ye know where we should go?
Dunno Jor, where?
East, to hit those farms and villages, that's where. Hardly any guards, we could ride right up to their houses, robbin' and pillagin' as we please, living like kings. Them other gangs all know it, which is why they divvied it up nicely. Those Butcher Bay bastards, Crossbone cocksuckers, and Azure asslickers, what gives them the right to tell us where to rob? Bunch o' former soldiers, fucking cowards are what they are, can't stand against no Defiled so they gotta take jobs from common working folk. I bet those farm girls all spread their legs at the sight of em, all 'O please Mr. Bandit, don't hurt my family, I'll suck your cock real good' all while enjoying gettin' fucked nice and proper. Those milksops, sucking at the teat of abundance while we out here sufferin' in the wilds.
I like teats Jor. Chey lets me touch hers sometime if I ask real nice. They're soft and fluffy
Jealousy flared through him. That tramp'd let anyone touch her giant teats for little more than the price of a drink. Ye might be the only Freebooter who ain't fucked her Ral. Scrub the mould from your balls and she might even give em a good lickin'. It wasn't true, she'd sooner cut a man's balls off than touch them, but it'd make for a good laugh watching Ral ask. A tough bird she was, cold and murderous.
Really Jor, you think so? Ral's face screwed up in thought. I dun like the deep water though.
Suddenly stopping, Ral turned and asked, Which way I supposed to be goin' Chey?
...Fuck it all, maybe it was hopeless.
As if the Mother herself were stepping in to confirm his thoughts, he watched as a shadow crept behind Chey, eyes widening in surprise as Ral bellowed a warning, gently placing him on the ground before rushing off to fight. A short-lived scuffle, Chey and Ral were both beaten soundly by a half-dozen soldiers, clubbing Ral viciously as he struggled to resist, until he finally collapsed to the ground, bloody but still breathing. For now.
Closing his eyes, Jorani waited for the cold knife to cut across his neck.
It never came.
Rough hands picked him up and dragged to the central square along with Ral and Chey, the Freebooters gathered with little resistance. The boss was there, clutching his belly and rocking back and forth, eyes darting about to study their captors. Hurriedly averting his eyes, Jorani clung to the thread of hope that the boss was faking his pain. A skilled warrior, the boss might have purged the poison by now, biding his time for a chance to strike.
Well, well, well. Look at all the bandits, all gathered in a group. Grinning evilly, a young man strolled forward, studying the Freebooter's as his soldiers ringed them. Average height and slim build, he was striking in his layered leather armor, glossy black and beautifully crafted. A shortsword on his hip and a punching shield slung across his back, he peered out from beneath his open-faced helmet, enjoying the pain and misery on display before him. This was the man who poisoned them, it had to be, only the wealthy nobles knew how to be so cruel and callous, playing with human lives like a cat toys with a mouse. And you all said my plan wouldn't work.
I never said that, I said you shouldn't go through with it. A maiden appeared at the cruel noble's side, her helmet framing her beautifully freckled face and luxurious locks of fiery red hair. Poison is a weapon without honour. We could have subdued these bandits without it, and you wasted all that money on wine. At the maiden's side stood a fierce warrior woman in shimmering armour, glaring at him for daring to look upon the goddess, and he quickly averted his eyes. Damn, why were these rich young heroes out hunting bandits? Even worse for them to be using underhanded, despicable means when they were so well equipped, it was cruel and unjust.
It's fine, we haven't even made it to Sanshu and we've captured like a hundred bandits with no casualties. I'm sure some of them have bounties for us to collect. Hey what's your little gangs name? The young noble stepped forward, taking him too close to the boss while still unarmed.
Foolish child, the Freebooter's will be your death! Roaring in defiance, the boss stood tall and stretched his hand out, close to a dozen Freebooters standing with him, improvised weapons in hand. Guided by his chi, the boss's spear jumped into his hands in the blink of an eye. He thrusted forward at the noble brat, aiming to take his life. The spear tip flashed in the firelight as it arced towards the noble's throat. A loud clang rang out, and the spear gouged a furrow in the ground. Falling to his knees, the boss stared at the noble in confusion, his mouth moving wordlessly as blood spilled from his throat, spraying Jorani with a warm, red mist before falling face first into the dirt.
Absently wiping his sword, the noble's eyes narrowed in thought as arrows and bolts bombarded the few who dared to stand, all resistance quelled in mere seconds. When did he draw the weapon? How did he move so quickly? Were there any Freebooters on the list?
Yes. The armored warrior woman answered in cold monotone. Kosal the Impaler, five gold bounty.
Five gold? With a name like 'the Impaler', you'd think he'd be worth more. Alright, so where is he? Someone point him out, don't make me ask again.
The noble's glare swept across the Freebooters, promising torture and worse with a single glance. Several fingers pointed at the boss's corpse, and the noble's face twisted in disappointment before asking about loot. Shivering uncontrollably, all the fear Jorani previously felt for the boss transferred over to this demonic young noble who killed as easily as flipping his hand. Eyes widening as he spotted the token on the noble's waist, the pieces came together in his mind. A young Warrant Officer with eyes of gold and orange, it could only be one person. Falling Rain, the undying murderous savage, a lunatic who killed any who displeased him. Hailing from a tribe of reclusive mountain warriors who were almost half-defiled themselves, the Bekhai were the Emperor's secret weapon unleashed against the Enemy in these trying times. Daring to take on the Society, Rain was a torturer and madman, capable of wielding dark magics, controlling monstrous beasts and bathing in the blood of the fallen to gain unholy strength, unmatched by any his age.
There was no hope to be had now that they were in the clutches of a psychopath. Tearing his eyes away, he looked down at Ral who laid bleeding and unconscious. Meet me the next life brother, I'll look out for you properly next time, treat you right.
Chapter Meme
Chapter 129Crouched in the trees, Jorani stared down the empty road from his hilltop vantage point. Keeping watch, the shittiest job there was, hugging a damned tree for hours while everyone else was dicing, drinking, and fucking. Sitting beside him, Ral kept him company, a daft fucker if he ever laid eyes on one. The hefty halfwit had a full name, some long, southern gibberish, but damned if Jorani could pronounce it. Dumb as a bag of bricks, the giant blockhead attached himself to Jorani for years despite all efforts to drive him away. Humming quietly, Ral rocked side to side, swinging wider with each pass. Blowing out a sigh, Jorani shoved Ral away. Keep your shit-stinking self away from me ye dumb knuckle dragging oaf.Smiling like an idiot, Ral clung to the branch, switching over to swinging his legs. Sorry Jor, forgot to bath meself again.The dam on his anger breaking, Jorani smacked Ral on the arm repeatedly, the meaty bastard smiling through it all. When do ye ever 'bath'? It's bathe you moron! And I only ever seen ye pour a bucket of water over yer daft head, if ye ever waded into a proper pond, ye'd taint the drinking water fer years. I wouldn't be surprised if yer balls had mould growin' on em, ye dirty fucking bastard. A little soap ain't gonna kill ye.Updated from novelbIn.comSorry Jor. I bathe when we go home.Bah... What we doin' up here anyways Ral?Boss said to watch. Wagons coming east.Hmph, we been here for hours and the day's almost done, ain't no wagons coming east. Nothin' to do cept watch wagons goin' west, that's where they all headed. Can you believe that last convoy? A hundred and fifty fucking guards for three tiny wagons, a fucking waste. Ain't worth the risk for three lousy wagons. How's a man to make a decent living like this Ral?Lotta guards Jor.That it is, and you know what I hear? Some Society bitch is on her way to Sanshu with a few thousand soldiers. Soldiers! Why don't those bastards go fight the damn Defiled? Harassment is what it is, harassment of common, decent folk. All we want is a tiny taste, enough to drink and eat, keep our bodies warm and bellies full. Inhumane bastards, treadin' on us poor workers.I like drinkin, Jor. Don't like bein' up here though, too many bug bities.Well that's one good thing about havin' ye here Ral, the bugs leave me well alone. Glaring angrily at the empty road, his fingers dug into the tree trunk as he continued to vent. We Freebooters are getting squeezed out here in the fucking sticks, last winter was a tight one, I tell you that. Now the convoys are gettin' too risky to roll over. Ye know where we should go?Dunno Jor, where?East, to hit those farms and villages, that's where. Hardly any guards, we could ride right up to their houses, robbin' and pillagin' as we please, living like kings. Them other gangs all know it, which is why they divvied it up nicely. Those Butcher Bay bastards, Crossbone cocksuckers, and Azure asslickers, what gives them the right to tell us where to rob? Bunch o' former soldiers, fucking cowards are what they are, can't stand against no Defiled so they gotta take jobs from common working folk. I bet those farm girls all spread their legs at the sight of em, all 'O please Mr. Bandit, don't hurt my family, I'll suck your cock real good' all while enjoying gettin' fucked nice and proper. Those milksops, sucking at the teat of abundance while we out here sufferin' in the wilds.I like teats Jor. Chey lets me touch hers sometime if I ask real nice. They're soft and fluffyJealousy flared through him. That tramp'd let anyone touch her giant teats for little more than the price of a drink. Ye might be the only Freebooter who ain't fucked her Ral. Scrub the mould from your balls and she might even give em a good lickin'. It wasn't true, she'd sooner cut a man's balls off than touch them, but it'd make for a good laugh watching Ral ask. A tough bird she was, cold and murderous.Really Jor, you think so? Ral's face screwed up in thought. I dun like the deep water though.Suddenly stopping, Ral turned and asked, Which way I supposed to be goin' Chey?...Fuck it all, maybe it was hopeless.As if the Mother herself were stepping in to confirm his thoughts, he watched as a shadow crept behind Chey, eyes widening in surprise as Ral bellowed a warning, gently placing him on the ground before rushing off to fight. A short-lived scuffle, Chey and Ral were both beaten soundly by a half-dozen soldiers, clubbing Ral viciously as he struggled to resist, until he finally collapsed to the ground, bloody but still breathing. For now.Closing his eyes, Jorani waited for the cold knife to cut across his neck.It never came.Rough hands picked him up and dragged to the central square along with Ral and Chey, the Freebooters gathered with little resistance. The boss was there, clutching his belly and rocking back and forth, eyes darting about to study their captors. Hurriedly averting his eyes, Jorani clung to the thread of hope that the boss was faking his pain. A skilled warrior, the boss might have purged the poison by now, biding his time for a chance to strike.Well, well, well. Look at all the bandits, all gathered in a group. Grinning evilly, a young man strolled forward, studying the Freebooter's as his soldiers ringed them. Average height and slim build, he was striking in his layered leather armor, glossy black and beautifully crafted. A shortsword on his hip and a punching shield slung across his back, he peered out from beneath his open-faced helmet, enjoying the pain and misery on display before him. This was the man who poisoned them, it had to be, only the wealthy nobles knew how to be so cruel and callous, playing with human lives like a cat toys with a mouse. And you all said my plan wouldn't work.I never said that, I said you shouldn't go through with it. A maiden appeared at the cruel noble's side, her helmet framing her beautifully freckled face and luxurious locks of fiery red hair. Poison is a weapon without honour. We could have subdued these bandits without it, and you wasted all that money on wine. At the maiden's side stood a fierce warrior woman in shimmering armour, glaring at him for daring to look upon the goddess, and he quickly averted his eyes. Damn, why were these rich young heroes out hunting bandits? Even worse for them to be using underhanded, despicable means when they were so well equipped, it was cruel and unjust.It's fine, we haven't even made it to Sanshu and we've captured like a hundred bandits with no casualties. I'm sure some of them have bounties for us to collect. Hey what's your little gangs name? The young noble stepped forward, taking him too close to the boss while still unarmed.Foolish child, the Freebooter's will be your death! Roaring in defiance, the boss stood tall and stretched his hand out, close to a dozen Freebooters standing with him, improvised weapons in hand. Guided by his chi, the boss's spear jumped into his hands in the blink of an eye. He thrusted forward at the noble brat, aiming to take his life. The spear tip flashed in the firelight as it arced towards the noble's throat. A loud clang rang out, and the spear gouged a furrow in the ground. Falling to his knees, the boss stared at the noble in confusion, his mouth moving wordlessly as blood spilled from his throat, spraying Jorani with a warm, red mist before falling face first into the dirt.Absently wiping his sword, the noble's eyes narrowed in thought as arrows and bolts bombarded the few who dared to stand, all resistance quelled in mere seconds. When did he draw the weapon? How did he move so quickly? Were there any Freebooters on the list?Yes. The armored warrior woman answered in cold monotone. Kosal the Impaler, five gold bounty.Five gold? With a name like 'the Impaler', you'd think he'd be worth more. Alright, so where is he? Someone point him out, don't make me ask again.The noble's glare swept across the Freebooters, promising torture and worse with a single glance. Several fingers pointed at the boss's corpse, and the noble's face twisted in disappointment before asking about loot. Shivering uncontrollably, all the fear Jorani previously felt for the boss transferred over to this demonic young noble who killed as easily as flipping his hand. Eyes widening as he spotted the token on the noble's waist, the pieces came together in his mind. A young Warrant Officer with eyes of gold and orange, it could only be one person. Falling Rain, the undying murderous savage, a lunatic who killed any who displeased him. Hailing from a tribe of reclusive mountain warriors who were almost half-defiled themselves, the Bekhai were the Emperor's secret weapon unleashed against the Enemy in these trying times. Daring to take on the Society, Rain was a torturer and madman, capable of wielding dark magics, controlling monstrous beasts and bathing in the blood of the fallen to gain unholy strength, unmatched by any his age.There was no hope to be had now that they were in the clutches of a psychopath. Tearing his eyes away, he looked down at Ral who laid bleeding and unconscious. Meet me the next life brother, I'll look out for you properly next time, treat you right.Chapter Meme
