11-05-2011, 03:24 AM
The following contains intense violence, blood, methods of torture, and murder. User discretion is advised.
Gripped in the plated gauntlet, the small dirt colored paper was crumbled into a ball in short order. Thrown into a puddle on the side of the road, the rain still bearing down on the forest, as the Knight began marching to the east. His steps pounding the metal of his boots against the stone of the road, as he pressed on tirelessly. Leaving the letter behind him, the water it had fallen into wasting it away, the man soon came to a point in the road.
The letter had read;"Dear Rydanovich. It has been a long time, since I last wrote you. Every night, I wish I could lay with you again, like we did years ago. I miss you so much, my love. The children are growing up just fine, even if they can't have you with them. Sarah is learning to sing, she's like a little angel. Nalen has been helping the local militia with boxes. Mostly moving stuff, but he seems to love helping them. I am so sorry with what a horrible thing they did to you. Every day, I wish the Light would grant you peace, and let you have your old life back. It is because of that, that I can barely bear to write this. Rydanovich, we need help. These men came to the house, theatened our kids, broke the table. They say we owe them money. Please, honey, I'm scared. The militia said they would look into it. But I'm afraid for our kids. Please. Love, and forever yours; Lilah."
The message fresh in mind, Rydanovich marched down the road, his runic blue eyes glaring with rage, runed blade gripped tightly in his armoured fist. Rydanovich had always made sure to keep a watchful eye on his family, even more so than he ever did for even his closest friends, and knew right then and there who it was he was hunting. Volgin Pasterson, a man well known as a bandit and murderer, wanted by Westfall's brave militia for too many a crime to count. Months. Months had this man avoided the justice and retribution he deserved. No longer. Two men stood before the Death Knight, known 'henchmen' of his prey. Surely, they would know something. Something worth causing them unspeakable pain, to get.
A mere twenty feet from the first of the two men, both on either side of the road, Rydanovich narrowed his good eye into a glare on the first of his targets. A rather short man, he was, with narrow shoulders, eyes close together on his face, and a nose that had clearly been broken perhaps one too many times. His eyes shifted across the road, to the other man. Partnered for a reason to the other, the man could be confused easily for a half-bred Orc. A towering man, broad shoulders, fists the size of small melons, and a jawline built and as hard as a brick, the man was clearly the 'muscle' of the pair.
Laughs bellowed out between the two men, a bag of likely stolen copper bounced up and down in the smaller man's hand, landing against his palm with a metalic jingle of coins. These two knew something, that much was clear. The local guard had always questioned them before, about their 'boss', but never got anywhere. It frustrated the captain to no end, every time he had to release them, without making any headway. But there was always a problem with how the guard had handled them. They were, after all, guards. They had laws, orders, and the usual 'problems' proper authority has. Rydanovich, on the other hand, did not. And he had information the guard didn't.
He knew they were lovers.
Elwynn Forest. Two days ago...
Gripped in the plated gauntlet, the small dirt colored paper was crumbled into a ball in short order. Thrown into a puddle on the side of the road, the rain still bearing down on the forest, as the Knight began marching to the east. His steps pounding the metal of his boots against the stone of the road, as he pressed on tirelessly. Leaving the letter behind him, the water it had fallen into wasting it away, the man soon came to a point in the road.
The letter had read;"Dear Rydanovich. It has been a long time, since I last wrote you. Every night, I wish I could lay with you again, like we did years ago. I miss you so much, my love. The children are growing up just fine, even if they can't have you with them. Sarah is learning to sing, she's like a little angel. Nalen has been helping the local militia with boxes. Mostly moving stuff, but he seems to love helping them. I am so sorry with what a horrible thing they did to you. Every day, I wish the Light would grant you peace, and let you have your old life back. It is because of that, that I can barely bear to write this. Rydanovich, we need help. These men came to the house, theatened our kids, broke the table. They say we owe them money. Please, honey, I'm scared. The militia said they would look into it. But I'm afraid for our kids. Please. Love, and forever yours; Lilah."
The message fresh in mind, Rydanovich marched down the road, his runic blue eyes glaring with rage, runed blade gripped tightly in his armoured fist. Rydanovich had always made sure to keep a watchful eye on his family, even more so than he ever did for even his closest friends, and knew right then and there who it was he was hunting. Volgin Pasterson, a man well known as a bandit and murderer, wanted by Westfall's brave militia for too many a crime to count. Months. Months had this man avoided the justice and retribution he deserved. No longer. Two men stood before the Death Knight, known 'henchmen' of his prey. Surely, they would know something. Something worth causing them unspeakable pain, to get.
A mere twenty feet from the first of the two men, both on either side of the road, Rydanovich narrowed his good eye into a glare on the first of his targets. A rather short man, he was, with narrow shoulders, eyes close together on his face, and a nose that had clearly been broken perhaps one too many times. His eyes shifted across the road, to the other man. Partnered for a reason to the other, the man could be confused easily for a half-bred Orc. A towering man, broad shoulders, fists the size of small melons, and a jawline built and as hard as a brick, the man was clearly the 'muscle' of the pair.
Laughs bellowed out between the two men, a bag of likely stolen copper bounced up and down in the smaller man's hand, landing against his palm with a metalic jingle of coins. These two knew something, that much was clear. The local guard had always questioned them before, about their 'boss', but never got anywhere. It frustrated the captain to no end, every time he had to release them, without making any headway. But there was always a problem with how the guard had handled them. They were, after all, guards. They had laws, orders, and the usual 'problems' proper authority has. Rydanovich, on the other hand, did not. And he had information the guard didn't.
He knew they were lovers.