Feyhaven

No Backup Plans

          After a couple drinks at the local tavern and long, rather mundane conversation, the two set back out into the streets and made their way to the market. By dusk, most of the traffic had cleared, but the paths were still sort of lively compared to what it was near midnight the night before. The rain had let up shortly after noon and the mud-riddled main street was the only sound around other than the casual conversating here and there. With each squelch in it, they got closer to the carriages they'd seen before.

         They quickly approach the covered lead carriage. People had already been boarding for a decent chunk of time. The coachman peers around the side of it, notcing the half-genies.

         "Good, you two are the last, I believe. Hop on in the rear and we'll take off when the rest of these pricks are packed."

         The woman he was helping recoiled as if someone had just been murdered in front of her, then began to curse him out, saying she was some sort of royal descendent and she shouldn't be treated that way. He let's out a chuckle and calms her, putting her fourth bag into the already limited space. Atlas and Loch find the opening of the rear cart almost full, but with just a little more room for them. They board and tuck their satchels away quickly. Before long, the caravan slowly takes off.

         By morning hours, most were asleep. Loch and Atlas spent their time playing a rudimentary card games and such. After a long period of silence, Loch asks Atlas a question.

        "What was your life like back home?"

         Atlas leaned back, looking up at the beautiful, slightly cloudy night sky. The rickety nature of the carriage was the only sound besides very minor snoring from the middle cart.

          "Well, I was born and raised in Mausil. It was a sort of underground part of it, though. Dad left when I was six or so, my mother stayed around helping me learn the important things. Definitely helped me deal with not having many friends. Was never really hurt by that because I was always the loner type. My books and my wanderlust was all I needed, and that was far from the more criminal nature of the area. Most of the others didn't care if they lived or died, so I'd say I was happy doing that instead. In retrospect, it might have stunted me socially a bit, but I've had to learn how to be better about that to keep travelling like this. I spent a lot of time with my mother in the mortuary business, which sort of made me intrigued by death and my natural curiosity pushed that to what happens after as well. I dug many graves, and watched many of young, lost souls be lowered into their final resting place By sixteen, it had sort of given me a nihilistic view of the world. So, with my natural curiosity I stated looking into the concepts of religion. I tried to make sense of this unique type of misery, but I couldn't do it passively-"

          Suddenly, a loud explosion rings out from near the front carriage. Atlas, peers over and sees a pillar of almost blue flame. He also sees the carriage roughly fifteen feet in the air, people and items being thrown all over. As it hits the ground and comes to a rest, all of the people in the carriages still able to move began to panic. Loch looks into the middle carriage. Everyone there is ducking, terrified enough to be crying. One of the men stands up and tries to look at the remains of the first coach. A very quiet thwip sound is heard and an arrow pierces the man's throat. Blood gurgles out of his mouth as he falls, lifeless.

         Atlas turns to rest of the people in the rear cart, "Stay down, we are being attacked! Are any of you trained with weapons?"

         Not a single hand raises, causing Atlas to turn to Loch, who was now brandishing the rapier he'd carried on his back and channeling magic into his off hand. Atlas glances over the edges of the cart seeing two archers on horseback, clad in black armor. Then he notices two more running along the ridge of hills along the road.

         "Two behind, two on the sides. We have to pick the archers off or distract them."

          Loch, without speaking, Stands up, causing the archers take aim at him. He point his hand at the left one. 

          "Sleep."

         The man's grip quickly loosens, the bow falling to the side. His eyes close and he goes limp. He falls from the saddle, bouncing along the gravel road, probably breaking some bones. The other archer watches and is clearly angry now, letting loose an arrow towards Loch. Atlas, in one quick motion, slings his arm up infront of him, now wielding his shield. It glances off of the metal exterior leaving a new scratch in the already worn face. The two duck back down.

         "Well done," say Atlas, moving toward the driver of the carriage.

         "Sir, you need to speed up if possi-"

         The driver had a large broken piece of wood piercing his chest. He'd clearly died shortly after the initial explosion.  Atlas whispers a prayer before leaping back into the seating area and channeling his own magic. 

        "Purge!"

          Even though it is the dead of night, a very luminous glow takes hold around the other archer, and he begins to panic. Suddenly in a flash of green flame, the man is incinerated from the inside out. The fire seeps from his eyes and mouth for a brief amount of time before he too, falls from the horse. Both of their horses begin to wander from the path and sprint into the wilderness. The other two quickly approach the carriage. With single bound, they leap from the horse into the carriage.

        Atlas bashes one with his shield and loch begins dueling with the other man. The metallic clangs of steel on steel fills the night sky, and the fine line of life and death is tested.