Andlátkyn; Vandr Sanses unin Alagaësia

Fighting Back

Of course Roran agreed with their plan. Horst started handing out weapons- shovels, pitchforks, flails,- anything that could be used to fight.
Roran first grabbed a pick, then thought better of it.

He never really bothered much with Brom's stories, save for one. The "Song of Gerand".
It was the story of Gerand, the greatest warrior of his time that gave up the sword to have a wife and a peaceful farm. But his peace was shattered by a most heartless Lord that began a blood feud against his family. Gerand had to kill again. But instead of a blade, he used a hammer.
So Roran's hands wandered over to a medium-sized hammer with a long handle and rounded blade on one side.
"May I have this?"

Horst regarded it carefully. "Use it wisely." Then faced the rest of their team. "Listen. We want to scare, not kill. Break a few bones if you want, but don't get carried away. And whatever you do, don't stand and fight. No matter how brave or heroic you feel, remember that they are trained soldiers."

With that warning in mind, they all made their way to the camp, slinking through the darkness to find only four sentries. Everyone else was asleep. The Ra'zac's horses were picketed by the glowing remains of a fire. Beside it was an eerie bundle that wriggled every once in a while. A person?

Horst whispered his orders, sending Albriech and Delwin to ambush two sentries while Parr and Roran were to target another two.
Roran eyed his victim silently, shivering with anticipation.
Wait...
Wait...

Horst exploded from his spot, crowing as he led the charge. Roran leapt into action, swinging. He slammed into the sentry at the shoulder, metal crunching.
The man screamed and dropped his halberd, staggering. Roran raised his hammer again and the man cried out for help.

Roran took off after him, yelling unintelligibly. He burst into a tent, crushing whatever or whoever was within and turned to smash another's head with a bell-like clang. Loring appeared momentarily before vanishing once again with a maniac laughter, stabbing soldiers left and right.

Roran spun around to see a soldier fumbling to get his bow strung. He charged and snapped the bow with his mallet and sent the man running.
The Ra'zac emerged from their tent, shrieking terribly, wielding swords.
But Baldor, the genius, untethered the horses and sent them barreling towards the demonic figures.
They managed to regroup after that, only to be thrown apart as the soldier's morale disintegrated and they ran away.

It ended.
It was over already.

Roran made his way back to Horst, only to pause at a living body. It was someone with a bag over their head, and ropes tied over bags that covered their hands and feet. The figure was whimpering, muffled cries that vaguely sounded like begs for mercy.
After a moment of hesitation, Roran ripped the cloth of the stranger's head.
The first thing he saw terrified him.

There was no flesh on that face. Just bare, white bone. Eyeless sockets stared at him with tears pooling inside, trickling down that morbid expression on what should have been normal, rock-hard bone. It appeared to be missing a gap between the jawbone and skull itself, the space filled with freakishly malleable bone, like cheeks. Two tiny dots of lilac light quivered in the middle of those empty sockets, as though replacing the lack of pupils. The... thing was taking shuddering breaths, though if the rest of it's body was like it's head then there was no telling what lungs it breathed through.

By the gods... they're real. Roran slowly realized.
That bird wasn't a lunatic.. He remembered her counsel. If you save them, you will gain a powerful ally.
"If you mean us no harm, we will help you. What are your intentions, creature?" He asked if it.
It occurred to Roran this thing might not even speak his language.
His concerns were wiped away instantly.
"N-no h-h-h-harm. Please, no m-more!" A soft, identifiably male voice stuttered in terror.