The Taste of Death. [ HIATUS ]

III - The Woods.

"Oi! You arseholes stole ma' leader's horse! I'll have you murdered for this! The rats will make ah' meal out of you as soon as I'm done with ye!" Threaten one of the bandits, ordering the band to follow his lead. Keeping his sight on the two thieves, "an' you, the pretty blond in da' nicely plated armor... I'll have your head on a pike for this! I'll rip off your limbs an' feed you to my hounds, I'll send you two right back to hell - with no head or legs, HA!" he continued to taunt, all as he pulled his short sword from his belt. Swinging it madly, mid pursuit.

"So he's dumb and blind... quite the combo," Joked Mercer, giving Logain a quick motion before taking a sharp left turn. "Now, is definitely not the time for jests, Mercer." Logain shot back, giving the man a cold glare. 

"Quickly! Go around 'em, center 'em in! Don't let 'em escape!" Ordered the bandit, waving at his men. "Go on, fuckin' kill 'em!"

"Come now, at least make it somewhat entertaining," commented Mercer, letting out a loud wave of laughter. Logain, on the other hand, eyed the bandits nervously - noticing how dangerously close they became; the horses, now tired out, reduced in speed. Now making the chances of their capture quite high.

"On my signal, Logain," ordered Mercer. In which Logain would respond with a brief nod. And just as the bandits itched even closer, Mercer quickly pulled out his scimitar - giving it a long swing, the blade then connected with one of the bandits' bellies, guts splattering out in response. "...Now!" and just like that, their horses stopped.

The bandits, now ahead, were caught dumbfounded by these actions - and in result to that, their horses quickly slammed into one another, sending the bandits flying in opposite directions, their horses crying out painful neighs. 

"Shall we finish them off?" asked Mercer, giving Logain a quick glance.

"No need, most of them are unconscious anyway. Plus,  we've lost enough time. We must get back to the task at hand. Finding the sorceress Mara." Responded Logain, in quite the annoyed tone.

"Aye, you're right. The Sorceress is just ahead. Farther back into the deep woods."

With a nod, the two then continued on their travels, eyeing the trees - the landscape. Logain searched for any clues, any way of knowing they truly were going the correct way. For a tracker, Mercer certainly wasn't tracking much. Which made Logain question their path.

"Tell me, Mercer. How many times have you seen Mara?" Logain asked, shifting his attention to his orange-haired companion.

"Just once, when we shagged." He answered, giving the stallion a gentle pat.

"Right," Logain coughed, a bit awkwardly. It wasn't common for Knights to speak of such things. Especially so casually. "And I'm assuming you two did this at her home?"

"Nay. We went to an empty Barn that was nearby," he answered, just as casually.

"...Meaning you've never actually been to her home?"

"Aye," Mercer responded - reaching out for Logain's satchel, pulling out a carrot, feeding it to his stallion.

Now angry; Logain let out a faint grunt. Giving Mercer a death stare. "...Then where the fuck are we going?" asked Logain, a bit louder than expected.