DP Gregoire Fiction - An Adventure Lost - Chapter 8: Tides of Change

Wednesday December 2nd 2020

Holding a knife to Marrium's throat, Clambaugh took his free hand to rip the britches between her legs. He proceeded to fidget with his pants, pulling out his penis he whispers in her ear, “If ya struggle, it may hurt. If ya scream, I just may like it.” He rubbed it around trying to find an opening.

Marrium stood there froze in terror, not wanting what was going to happen next. She wondered if it was worth it. Truly these two vile men were going to kill her and Romrick anyway. She was debating struggling to save herself, and if she dies, she dies. It would be better than enduring days, maybe even weeks of torturer by these two, she knew.

“YEEEEAAAAAGH!” Maegrin let out a large yell that stopped Clambaugh dead in his tracks. Romrick has found a hole, one of Maegrin's stab wounds, and he had jammed his finger as far in it as he could.

This gave Romrick the advantage he needed to escape Maegrin's grasp, which loosened on him considerably. And in the same instance, Clambaugh was flipped to the floor. Marrium had used that slight distraction to her advantage as well, tossing Clambaugh over her hip.

Clambaugh hit hard, smacking the back of his head off of the ground, dazing him. Unfortunately for him Marrium had maintained wrist control of the blade hand. She twisted his arm into a lock, knocking the knife free from his hand. The blade sprawled across the ground, just within reach of Romrick who grabbed it with his free hand.

SPLUTCH! SPLUTCH! SPLUTCH!

Romrick landed a series of stabs into Maegrin's leg and arm. He got up in this instance, slicing and stabbing at Maegrin who just covers himself up in an attempt to reduce the damage done to him by the blade wielded by a vengeful madman (and rightfully so).

CRACK!

“YEAAAAGH!” Clambaugh's arm snaps at the elbow, Marrium thrusting her hips up, giving her the momentum and leverage she needed to break his arm.

Troll was not sure what all the commotion was about. Instead, it relaxed in the warm pot of stew, occasionally drinking from it. These were going to be some good times, troll could tell.

Denderin surprisingly made it to the next town in one piece. Axe Hammer had a show, so they were off doing their own thing. Denderin was able to have peace and quiet, thankfully. He went to market square to replenish his goods, and had more than enough money leftover to continue supporting this journey.

He stopped at an old bar & inn for a warm meal, a hot bath, and a good night's rest. The place wasn't of much interest, it definitely didn't have as much character as the Boisterous Tankard back at Hearthbarrow.

The food wasn't that noteworthy. And it's not worth describing the peas, carrots, corn, and chicken dinner he had eaten. Nor would it be worth for you to retain such information even if it were described.

The room he stayed in was cozy, but the wooden shiplap walls and hardwood floors didn't extinguish his flame for adventure. The bath was warm, yes, but it wasn't a remarkable experience. The bubbles didn't change his mind back to a life of comfort and relaxation, no.

Perhaps the bed would suit him much better? But how could it? With its plain designs. Just brown sheets and brown blankets. Pillows stuffed with feathers. It wasn't anything remarkable, and didn't feel much different than sleeping in the wilderness.

Night, eyes close, sun rose, morning. He was exhausted, but wanted to get back on the road as soon as possible. So he packed his newly acquired bags and set out to the next town.

The new map he had purchased is handy. It shows all of the nearby towns and villages on the road. Some he didn't even know existed, some that weren't even on the original map he had brought with him.

SMACK!

“Top of the mornin' to ya!” Auxwhither exclaimed while slapping Denderin across his back.

“I'm taking the road north, heading to Tuttleberry,” responds a startled Denderin. He was quite surprised Axe Hammer caught up with him as early as he was leaving. He was sure those heavy metal halflings partied all night and would sleep well past noon. But it doesn't seem that way after all. Unless...?

“Hah, sleeping to noon as well?” Auxwhither asked?

'Yup, that answered it,' Denderin thought to himself, 'I too have slept-in until after noon time.'

“Well, yer in luck, lad. We too are headed to Tuttleberry for our next show. Hop on if ya would like another ride,” Auxwhither offers.

Denderin was now stuck with a choice. Travel with Axe Hammer and endure them all over again. Or, travel on foot and take several days to get there. One way was certainly more peaceful than the other. But the other was resource and time efficient.

Denderin pondered it for a moment, then he started nodding his head, “Yeah, alright, that sounds great. We can do that.”

“Excellent,” Auxwhither exclaimed, a cigar hanging from his mouth.

Maegrin burst through the cottage door, clutching his wounds with one hand, supporting Clambaugh with the other. Troll hurried out behind them in a confusion. Romrick and Marrium closely behind, bows in hand.

“We gotta hurry up, Clambaugh,” Maegrin pulled him along, despite all of the pain he was feeling in his many cut and stab wounds.

SLEWT! SLEWT!

Arrows flew from the cottage porch, sinking into the ground, just barely missing the fleeing men. Maegrin wasn't sure if they could make it, with his bad hand Clambaugh was too busy holding his limp arm.

“Clambaugh, if we die, I want ya to know yer my best friend,” Maegrin said, little energy in his voice.

“Aye, and I want you to know I am sorry about all of the things I did to you that caused you so much trouble,” Clambaugh sympathized.

They held each other in their arms, blubbering, apologizing to each other for various times they wronged the other. As they did this, Romrick and Marrium were on their heels, tracking the two foul men, bows in hand, arrows drawn.

The two desperate men ran deep into the dark woods. They knew not where they were headed, nor where they would end up. All they hoped was that they would wake to see the next morning, and live past the injuries they've endured, even the ones they've given each other.

SLEWT! SLEWT! THUNK!

Arrows flew into the forest. Maegrin and Clambaugh barely able to escape the arrow's razor sharp heads.

SLEWT! SLEWT! SLEWT! SPLUTCH!

“AGH!” Clambaugh took an arrow to his butt, practically falling to one knee.

“C'mon, Clambaugh, pick up the pace, or else we'll die,” Maegrin complains while dragging Clambaugh.

“I caught an arrow in my ass!” Clambaugh yells between gritted teeth.

Lucky for the two men the night was black as pitch, and the forest provided more darkness. The little light afforded by the starlight above could not pierce through the thick branches of the forest. And yet as the men ran, in the distance they could hear what sounded like running water.

“It sounds like a creek up ahead. We'll camp out there for the evenin',” Maegrin suggested to Clambaugh.

Clambaugh was in such pain he didn't feel like answering. His arm broken, an arrow buried to the hip sticking out of his ass, he thought he may die. Nausea and hot flashes came & went, Clambaugh was fading quickly. He may not make it through the night.

Maegrin saw how unresponsive Clambaugh had become, so he carried him upon his shoulders. He has decided it is better if they lay low for a while, they have seen enough action, and they are in no shape to venture further. The problem? They were short on food, and they had two people on their heels with the lust of justice on their minds. It is better the world think they are dead, so when they regain strength, they can be born anew.