Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-26245872-20140923034431/@comment-12599067-20141019172944

Meanwhile, in the mountains of the Reach...

A carriage is slowly but surely making it's way through the rugged wilderness of the Eastern Reach, pulled by twin horses who have evidently taken this route before, as evidenced by how sure-footed they are in their steps despite the light mist that lies over the path and the heavy chests they are pulling. A small number of guards, clad in steel, leather, and iron, surround the caravan, their hands staying close to their weapons as they progress onwards, keeping open eyes and ears to the wilderness around them. Driving the carriage itself is a man dressed in finely-woven cloth and fur, with an ornate silver ring that seems to show off his importance to those who can't recognize it, speaking to a man who appears to be leading the mercenaries.

Suddenly and without warning, a symphony of almost otherworldly howling presents itself from the wilds around them, breaking the silence that had previously fallen the caravan. One of the younger guards jumps in fright and his hand immediately flings itself to his blade, the sound of the metal scraping against the leather scabbard joining the collective noise of the mercenaries readying for battle as the caravan comes to a dead halt. The man driving the carriage looks about as well, but no one can see much through the mist, which even now seems to be thickening around them. They all expect to find wolves creeping in from the mist but see nothing until a single four-legged silhouette appears behind the caravan, followed by two others. Immediately the mercenaries turn to face them, staring them down in hopes of intimidating the hounds into fleeing. The whole world is still for a moment as man and beast lock eyes.

Then there's an order of some kind, muffled by the mist but still audible. The three mongrels rush at the mercenaries without hesitation, the fastest leaping on the youngest guard and pinning him to the ground before fastening it's fangs around his neck. One of the nearby mercenaries whirls around with his battleaxe in hand, readying to sweep the hound off of him, but then there is an arrow in his throat and he crumples like a ragdoll. The two other hounds find their mark as a small number of Reachmen appear from the mist, bearing crude blades and axes with archers supporting them from somewhere in the fog. The horses, spooked into fleeing, immediately begin taking off down the path but are stopped when a well-aimed arrow sinks into one of the horses' knees. The horse doesn't even have time to evidence pain before it's leg crumples beneath it, jolting the carriage and the other horse to a stop and flinging the driver off the carriage. The few remaining mercenaries try to fend off the Reachmen, having taken out three warriors as well as one of the hounds, but it is to little avail. Within moments they are all dead.

The driver crawls onto his hands and knees before rising, preparing to take off into the fog, but is stopped when a boot is planted in front of his face. The driver immediately scrabbles backwards, looking up to face his foe. He is greeted with the tattooed face of a bearded man behind a helm made of a savage animal pelt, the antlers adorning his crown almost giving the impression that this man is some kind of wild beast. The driver gasps in fear and turns to flee but the man grabs his collar and hurls him to the ground.

"No! Wait, please!" the driver manages, as if he thinks he can reason with the Reachmen. He is answered with silence and the sound of the hounds snarling, but then the man behind him grabs him by the collar and drags him to the edge of the path. Below him, the Karth River rushes over stone and earth, carving it's way into the wilderness like a scar.

"Look before you. What do you see?" the Reachman asks him, not too gruffly but most certainly not politely.

"I see... I see mountains! And hills and canyons and--"

"You aren't looking hard enough," the Reachman said. "I'll ask again, what do you see?"

"I see the Reach!"

"Yes. You do. You see the wilderness you and your employers think is yours. You see the silver you think you can take, the wilds you think you can tame. But what you don't see is a home. You don't see the men and women living here," the Reachman said, his words full of contempt although his voice was calm. "So perhaps you need to take an even closer look."

"Wait--"

"Take his ring," the Reachman ordered. The driver thrashed and wailed in protest but the Reachman put a blade to his throat, silencing him as one of the Forsworn stepped forward and took the ring from his finger. Then there was a sudden silence as the Reachman holding him still stepped forward. "Enjoy the view," he hissed before he removed his blade from the driver's throat and kicked him screaming off the cliffside.