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Yathol's Revenge #2

Old Vault Category: 
Old Vault ID: 

Yathol's Revenge

Yathol was getting close to the camp now, and he drifted back into the trees, off the path, sending out those tendrils of air again, listening for the sound of a sentinel, someone watching for unwanted arrivals. Hearing no one, Yathol looked up. He was going to spend a night in one of these trees, and he wanted it to have a good view into the camp. Comfortable would be nice, but that didn't matter, not now. The hunter selected one and began climbing it, making sure to stay hidden behind the trunk, keeping it between him and the camp. Once, he had to swing round to their side. Ducking his head out to see, he moved quickly up, hoping that they would hear the sound of him moving and just think of it as another squirrel, and not notice the size of that squirrel. Breathing quietly, he looked down, checking to see if anyone had noticed and was coming over. There hadn't been any shouts from the camp, and the hunter found a nice nook with a decent view out over the camp.

It was in the trees, so Yathol could only see parts of it, but those parts were enough to give him a good idea of the layout. There was a central fire blazing high, and most of the people were sitting around it, laughing, talking, eating the food that was being cooked on spits around it. Others were gambling or sharpening weapons. In total, there were about fifteen men here at the moment. Yathol doubted that was all of them; there was probably another group or two out there scouting out the next site for their raid, and there had to be a sentry or two, unless they were truly cocky.

Wrapping his cloak around himself, Yathol settled down to sleep, making sure he was facing to the east, so the sun would wake him just as it rose, if he wasn't able to wake up before the sun arose.

Yathol smiled at the darkness around him. He was still able to wake up whenever he desired, even when there was no sun to tell him the time of day. Stretching his limbs, he worked out the kinks that sleeping in an uncomfortable position had put in them, being careful to be quiet. At this time of the day, the sentries were probably asleep, but it didn't pay to take that risk. Unrolling the rope he'd brought with him, the hunter tied it to a sturdy tree branch, then let it drop down the tree away from the camp. Slithering down the rope, he dropped into the underbrush surrounding the tree, sending out more tendrils of air to see what sounds he could find, and especially to locate those sentries. A grin slid across his face as he found one near him. Working around the outside of the camp, he closed in on the sentry, the plants barely whispering against his clothing as he passed. The thief was asleep, his back up against a tree, looking out from the camp but obviously unworried about surprises. Yathol left him there looking out, but this time his eyes were sightless. A quick blow across the neck, and a hand across the mouth to prevent any sudden shouting, and the sentry sat there lifeless.

Quickly moving around the outskirts of the camp, he hunted the other two sentinels are ruthlessly as he'd killed the first. None of them gave out an alarm cry, and he left them slumped in the underbrush, corpses to feed the animals of the forest. Satisfied that he was now mostly safe, Yathol picked a good spot for observation of the camp, and lay down to rest for a while. Using magic always tired the hunter more than he thought it would, and he was going to need his energy in order to take on the fifteen or so men remaining in the camp. He also had a score to settle with the man who'd spoken yesterday, as well as the leader, and wanted to have those two for last.

Yathol knew he had to kill most of the thieves before they realised what was going on, otherwise he was one man against five or ten, and those odds were enough that Yathol knew he would most likely die if he had to fight them, and die in an unpleasant manner. A quick scan of the camp through his magic assured him that all those still there were sleeping quietly, unaware of the death of their sentries. Grabbing his bow and hunting spears, he retreated into the woods until the camp was on the edge of his awareness. Far enough away that he wasn't worried about making noise, Yathol scrambled up a tree as quickly as possible, then inched his way up and out along the branches until he had a mostly clear shot up into the sky towards the raiders's camp. What he had planned would take a lot out of the hunter, and then there were the two who he had marked to save for last.


Yathol's Revenge #2 © Stratovarius

Migrate Wizard: 
First Release: 
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