Alt Much?

D15 Target: 25000
Word Count: 16622
66% of Target

I did a nanonono and edited some of my previous work. This actually worked to my benefit as it added to my word count.

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Rolling the body away from the horse. The man’s chest was a bloody mess and his armor had been unbuckled in places as if he had been searched. There were a couple of puncture wounds in the man’s chest but they seemed mostly healed. There was also a deep gash in the man’s abdomen which, like the arrow wounds, was mostly healed. The manhandling Burn was giving the body elicited a very low, almost inaudible moan.

Excitedly, Burn gave a sharp whistle which was a rehearsed signal for medical aid that the squad had worked out in previous drills. A whistle could cut through the din of battle and bring aid where it was desperately needed. Talia came thundering up and lept off her horse in that effortless way of the fey.

“Talia, this man is still alive. I think it’s Rathebourne.” The trooper was wearing the standard hardened leather of a normal cavalry trooper but his surcoat showed the symbol of Macha emblazoned on the chest and still visible even beneath all the blood.

The elf maid knelt down next to the priest and began chanting a spell of magical healing. Priestly spells were much more efficient in tending the wounded. It was quicker, sometimes manifesting beneficial effects immediately. Magical healing would work in a pinch but was much slowing, the effects took minutes instead of seconds.

Earis was a magic infused world. Most denizens could use it in some form or fashion though most abstained. The possibility of being tainted and possibly getting corrupted made even the most perfunctory magic a risky endeavor. Talia was what was known as a True Mage, one skilled in avoiding such taint at least for the most part. A lesser healing spell was well within her tolerance.

The soft green glow of magical energy slowly engulfed Talia’s hands then moved to Rathebourne’s chest as she covered the areas where he had been wounded that was most vital to his immediate survival. As soon as the glow left her hands she started chanting again to attempt a healing on his abdomen. Burn watched as the once dying man took one then another deep breath. He was far from out of the woods but this gave the group some hope that their search wasn’t in vain. The woulds slowly knitted over the next eight minutes and Rathebourne’s breathing became stronger.

While the priest healed, Meirien signaled to Grey to set the squad out into the woodline to form a loose picket while he and his team leaders conferred on what to do next. He set Burn to check the other corpses for the message. Granis reigned in and Burns joined the trio with a shake of his head, he had not found any kind of documentation in any of the saddlebags nor on the corpses themselves.

“I couldn’t find the notes that the journal indicated but they were searched so it is possible that the Demi took them. I also think this is the very Rathebourne that wrote the journal. The robes and sigil on his surcoat mark him as a priest of Macha.”

“So, we found ‘em. Let’s get the blazes outta here.”

“Agreed,”Meirien nodded, “how soon can we move him Talia?”

“Well, true magic healing is a little slower than priestly healing. It will be about ten to fifteen minutes. I don’t think I can speed …”

“I’ll be able to ride in moments if someone would be so kind as to give me a hand up.” A thin, raspy voice intoned from behind the squads leaders.

They all turned to see the priest, now propped up on one elbow, a wry grin on his face. He was drawn and had obviously been through the wringer but seemed to have an oddly optimistic air. Dark blond locks framed a warm and compassionate face. Rathebourne still had a certain peaceful, priestly aura even after having spent days in grime and gore. Talia was the first to reach him.

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Grey quietly approached Decklan. The black haired youth had taken a wound during the initial ambush but Talia’s magic had healed him well enough to travel. Grey was checking on each of the pickets the squad had stationed around the clearing. When the leaders had gathered to confer, he had taken charge of the remaining squad members and established a security perimeter. In pairs, they had been arranged triangular pattern while Gilnas and he moved between the three points providing a roving patrol.

Decklan stood in the clearing holding the reigns of both his and Jimmy’s mount. Jimmy was a little deeper in the woodline, crouched down and trying to keep both eyes and ears open for any indicators of an approaching enemy. Sloth and Arron, Mina and Jerrin were dispersed similarly; one holding the mounts, one keeping watch. They were stretched thin.

“Awright Decklan lad, how ‘re ye holdin up?”

“I’m ok.” The youth puffed himself up but the image was ruined when a sudden coughing fit nearly doubled him over.

Grey reached over and patted the lad on the back. “Easy there lad. Ye took a arrer’ in the lung.”

Decklan gave a wan smile and nodded. The wood was quiet but that was normal for the Hollow Land where animal life was nonexistent. Grey scanned the woods until he spotted Jimmy’s brown and green cloak huddled within a sparse patch of green. The almost continuous burns that the Hollow Lands experienced cleared most of the underbrush which made concealment difficult. This benefited those on the defense since visibility was far greater than in a normal undergrowth infested wood.

They had been in the clearing only minutes. The bodies had been searched and they found one of the messengers alive which indicated the man had a very strong will to live. A sudden commotion at the center of the clearing drew Grey’s attention. The survivor was being propped up by Burn and Talia and suddenly a fine, golden mist enveloped the man’s chest and he waved off those supporting him.

Within seconds the man was able to stand on his own. He hunched over for a few seconds as if gathering his breath from a long run. He then straightened and began fastening the buckles on his armor. Granis and Talia moved to assist him as Burn spoke quietly off to the side with the squad leader.
“So that’s the priest aye,” the white haired elf intoned from beside the veteran.

“Aye, my bet that’s ‘im. Should be going soon. Go’an get Decklan and Jimmy. I’ll ‘ead around an gather the others.”

The elf nodded and wheeled his mount about.

“Grey hrk…”

Grey wheeled his horse around as an arrow whizzed by his head. He saw Gilnas fall off his mount and land in a heap on the ground as four orks charged from the woodline. They were eerily silent with only the noise they make as they crashed through the woods marking their passage. He saw Decklan’s body down along with the two horses all three riddled with arrows. Crouching low in his saddle turned his mount and spurred it to a gallop towards the center of the clearing.

“ORK, TO HORSE!” he cried. Grey could see comrades turn then almost as one, react to the danger. Talia was on her horse in a flash and reaching down to pull the priest behind her. Meirien begins to shout commands that would bring in the other pickets. Granis and Burn are also gain their horses quickly. The duergar unlimbered his axe and shield while Burn had already knocked a second arrow as the first one sped it’s way past Grey.

Grey heard a yelp behind him as Burn’s first arrow found it’s mark. A second arrow flashed by and another ork fell in a heap as Granis charged in to engage the remaining two assailants. Turning his mount once more, Grey moved to support his team leader. The duergar traded off blows with the orks, his axe flashing left and right. Another ork fell to arrows as it turned to face Grey’s charge. Now able to concentrate his attacks, Granis quickly dispatches the remaining ork.

Suddenly more cries of alarm sound from the two other pickets followed quickly by the brutal, guttural war cy of the orks. Grey glanced about the clearing. More orks were streaming in from where he had left the fallen Gilnas on the northern side. Sloth was engaged with two orks on the southeast side. A final cry came from the southwest side which meant that both Mina and Jerrin were probably lost.

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His command was crumbling around him. The cries of his falling troopers filled his ears and filled him with rage. Meirien knew what he had to do as soon as he saw the Greater Ork emerge from the woodline to bellow his challenge. In one had the beast held a bloody war axe, in the other was Mina’s severed head. He spared one last glance at his command.

Talia was preparing to hurl a spell but on horseback he rather doubt it would be effective. Burn was turning his mount and firing into the growing melee surrounding Sloth while Granis and Grey were finishing up those orks that had made it as far as the command team. More orks were streaming out of the woodline behind them and a few were already putting arrow to bow. Soon being out in the open would be pretty dangerous indeed.

“Burn get everyone out now!”

“Sir?” Burn sounded confused.

“Go! Pick up Sloth on the way, move!”

His command voice cut through the mounting confusion in his second. Burn had always reacted quickly to command and he nodded even as he realized what his commander intended. The younger soldier shouted loudly as he maneuvered his horse to comply with his commanders last request.

“Marauders to me!”

With a final salute, Burn turned and led Talia, Granis and Grey towards a struggling Sloth. The big man was holding the orks back with wild swings from his two hander. He was outnumbered and if he didn’t get help soon he would tire and create an opening. The orks simply hung back and waited.

Turning his horse, Meirien faced the leader of the opposing Demimonde squad. Sword flashing from it’s sheath, he lowered himself in his saddled and spurred his horse. The animal lept out as his prodding.

“For Garren, For the Overlands, for the King!”

The Greater Ork roared off his minions as they surged toward the lone rider bearing down on him. Cursing in the coarse language of the Demimonde the beast went so far as to cut down one of his own as it leveled a crossbow and took aim. When it shifted it’s focus back on Meirien the trooper had managed to close so quickly the ork barely had time to bring it’s axe up before it was trampled underneath almost a half ton of horseflesh.

The impact jarred Meirien loose from his saddle and threw him into the dry dead grass of the clearing. Rolling to his feet he wiped the grime from his eyes with his free hand. He had somehow managed to keep a hold on his sword and grinned as he saw the ork leader bellow his frustration. The ork was tangled up in Meirien’s mount and while the trooper pitied the animal he knew every second he kept their attention was another second his squad had to escape.

And it seemed his plan was working. The orks that started the initial ambush had turned when they heard their leader yelling. The other orks were forming a circle intent on watching their leader end the life of this one miserable human. He saw the remains of his squad hit the orks that were surrounding Sloth and scatter them. Meirien held that image in his mind as he redirected his attention back to the ork leader. The huge ork had finally extracted itself and was advancing.

The human didn’t bother with the normal flair and salute one would find in a duel among champions in the Outlands. He was pretty sure that the Demimonde had no concept of honor. The two opponents circled each other while the orkish horde roared it’s approval around them. Spitting on the ground, Meirien charged in hoping to catch his opponent off guard with a quick feint and thrust. The orks reactions were quicker than expected and Meirien was almost cut down when the ork sidestepped to dodge his thrust and swung his axe down.

Meirien took a quick step back and felt the prod of a spear graze his back. The other orks weren’t going to let the duel go on for much longer. Their blood was up and they were chaffing to kill. The ork boss roared his disapproval and the lesser orks backed off a little though they still growled their displeasure. Their movements had brought the southeastern portion of the clearing into view and the corporal saw the survivors of his command had breached the ork line and were escaping through the wood. They would have a good thirty second lead if they were lucky.

Smiling, Meirien let loose one last cry and charged the greater ork. It was a foolhardy charge but would serve to keep everyone’s eyes on him. It was a powerful cry, all the emotion of the last moments of his life wrapped themselves up into one last, loud yell. The sickening thud of an axe finding its way home cut his cry short. The corporal fell to his knees, sword falling from his lifeless fingers and his head landing with a dull thud a few feet away.

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Talia heard Meirien’s final war shout and it’s abrupt end from the other side of the clearing. It was the last sound she heard before entering the wood and it was soon lost to the more general snapping and creaking as the squad charged pell mell between tree and brush. They were running for their lives and would not have time to grieve. The wind whistled a soft dirge in the elf maiden’s ears as she fought to keep side of the tracker as he weaved around trees ahead of her.

She was in the middle of the squad with Burn guiding them and Granis pulling up the rear. He had stooped down and had pulled up Sloth behind him. The large human was in a bad way. While their charge had broken the ork line a lucky strike had taken off Sloth’s left arm at the shoulder. If it wasn’t for Rathebourne the man would have bleed out in seconds. The priest had been able to invoke a prayer and the bleeding stopped instantly and it was a testament to the man’s vitality that he was able to remain standing until Granis could haul him up.

The continued this way for almost ten minutes before they had to let up and rest their horses. Rathebourne tended to Sloth’s wound as they walked beside their mounts to give them a rest. After about five minutes they mounted up and struck out toward the Overlands at a canter. Every so often Grey and Granis would double back to check on the pursuit. It was during one of these forays that fortune smiled on them and they came back with one of their squad mounts that had managed to win free of the ambush in the clearing.

After about a league or so they dismounted and walked with their horses in an attempt to extend the beasts endurance. From training they knew could keep up this pace for leagues if they had to. They needed to stretch them as far as they dared. Having a horse come up lame now would be very unfortunate. Leagues of dead wood streamed by as the sun worked it’s way past the apex in the sky.

Soon they crossed the abrupt threshold that separated the Hollow Lands from the Overlands. Though they still had to remain alert, Talia couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief. She had been tight with anxiety the entire flight from the clearing. They were now in friendlier territory though still within striking distance for a Demimonde raid. They dismounted again. They could slow a little now that they were in the Overlands but Talia kept an eye out. If they were spotted by areal scouts a Demi patrol could be on them in minutes. Talia moved up closer to Burn who had assumed point.

“Tamis, do you think we will make it back to Underspur before dark?” Though in the Overlands they were in unfamiliar territory.

“Well have to stop soon and get our bearings. I’ll have a better idea then.”

Talia nodded and clasped the young man on the shoulder. Burn put a hand on hers and squeezed gently. Releasing her hand, Burn turned and gave the signal for everyone to mount up. The elf noted that though weary the troops spirits were bouyed simply from being back in allied territory.

They came upon a hunting trail late in the day. The trail wound through the woods and the squad was able to make good time. The smooth, even flatland soon gave way to smooth, rolling hills. Burns led the squad up one of the larger hills that was dominated by massively tall pine tree.

“Lights almost gone. I’m going to try and get a bearing from up this tree. Talia, Granis, keep an eye out. I don’t want to be up there if company shows up.”

The duergar nodded. As Burn made his way up the tree, Grey set about getting the horse feed bags in place while Rathebourne saw to it that Sloth was comfortable. The large man was handling the loss of a limb well all things considered. In a few minutes Burn had climbed as high as he was willing to risk.

Scanning the land around the hill, Burn was able to make out a couple of key terrain features. He also noticed something else. He quickly scaled back down the tree. Pulling out a map from his saddlebags he traced where he thought their position was in reference to the landmarks. Mounting up he signaled the rest of the squad to gather. When they were ready he told them what he had found.

“Good news is I think we can make it back to Underspur in another hour or so if we press hard. There is a major road about half a league ahead of us. Once there we can make pretty good time. The bad news is that there is a Demimonde patrol about a half hour behind us. We need to move and move quickly.”

The squad filed in behind Burn as he led them back down to the hunting trail. They went as fast as they dared in the darkening wood. Demi could see well in the darkness and even on foot they could chew up ground. Burn was betting that the orks would give up chase once they hit the main road. The roads were regularly patrolled and the horses would have the advantage over the flat, even ground.

The sky grew darker but it was already pretty dark within the wood itself. If it wasn’t for a short rise Burn would have missed the road completely. Quickly the squad formed up and north toward Underspur. The darkness soon closed around them as they sped onward, hoping the orks had given up the chase.

They had been riding this way, silently and in a staggered column, for some time when a light flared suddenly ahead of them on the trail. Burn slowed them down wary of a potential ambush. Soon the single point of light revealed itself to be numerous torches that lit the scene of a recent battle.