55 Henwick Part 3

'Keep moving.....faster Hen faster.....keep....run...' the battered body of Henwick thinks as it continues stumbling towards the smoke, several wounds cover his body as blood coats his chest and legs. Behind the faerie prince lies another band of cutthroats that attempted to slow him, resulting in their violent dismissal by the desperate prince.

His mana at empty, his health hovering lower than ever before, his armor shredded and the only gear still in working order is the stolen bow in his hands, Henwick stumbles past another burning tree. Atop its branches lies the home of another faerie, its owner or another of his people can be seen hanging from the scaffolding, their eyes held open in a rictus of fear as blood flows from their throat.

"Hey boys we got a survivor! Lets clip his wings and move on to the next building, times profit!" Screams another man, this one slightly different than the others in the princes way. Muscled like a runner, this man wields a lance and shield and wears actual mail. His face is covered by his helm but actual skill can be seen as he moves fluidly towards his prey. Before coming into striking range the man cowers behind his shield as arrows begin to pierce his men all around him, his shielding thumping as several shafts blast through the steel and barely stop before pin cushioning his helm.

"My people....my mother.....my siblings...my friends...you've taken them.....your in my way...you will pay....." Mutters the prince under his breath as he raises his head and glares at the surviving man in mail. The faeries eyes blaze a deep purple as the bow in his hands lets out a blast of energy, the feeling of death and resentment hitting the man in mail before an arrow pierces through his helm.

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{Bow of Genocidal Power Tally Humans-243 Elves-8 Orcs-45 Dwarves-2 Gnomes-8 Boons Unlocked- Racial Resentment:Human- Arrows deal 150% increased damage to human enemies. Humans who survive an attack from this ability will take triple damage on the next strike.}

"Good....tired...find mother first then we flee." In gasp before I tumble to the ground, several of the wounds I've taken throb in pain as I struggle to get up. My legs gone numb, must have been from that damn gnome with the potions he was throwing. Glancing at the spearman I just killed I smile as I spy several glass bottles on his belt. Crawling to him I barely get the red one off its hook before I hear more sounds of combat approaching.

"Damn mercs are causing more damage than expected. Plus we've lost contact with close to twenty different raiding parties including several of the non human groups. If they've gone silent we should be worried." Says a woman's voice from nearby before another I find familiar speaks.

"I wouldn't worry human. The summer court will reward you handsomely for killing off their only real enemy that could cause them issues. With the queen dead and all the royal heirs in shackles or on pikes you'll have no lack of payment from my father." Says the voice of my eldest brother Chaimont. His oily voice the pitch of a salesmen, a mysterious tone that promises wealth and riches to whomever hears it reaches my ears as my teeth grind together in fury.

My mother dead, my siblings enslaved or dead, my people being raped and enslaved without a fight all because of this traitorous piece of filth. I will kill him. I will carve his flesh to ribbons while his screams fill the air. I will pull his bones from his body while healing the wounds, I will have my vengeance. Taking the red bottle I drag it to my mouth and finally wrap my lips around the top, drinking the entire thing in a single slug and wincing as my wounds heal quickly. Next I grab the green and blue potions and throw them back as well, my body instantly feeling rejuvenated and filled with magical power as I anchor my bow to the spearman's corpse and pull back on the string.

"I call upon the goddess Ariy, Purveyor of Justice and Retribution, to bless my bow and let it strike true. Let my arrow strike down he who has betrayed our people for wealth and power, who has committed matricide and murder against his own family, and who has forgotten that I may still draw breathe." I chant under my breathe as a peal of thunder shakes the smoke filled skies and my bow glows an ominous crimson.

"Henwick!? Your supposed to be dead! We specifically sent one of our best hunters to that diplomatic meeting to finish you and anyone you could bring!" Screams my brother as he attempts to draw a sword from his hip before a flash of white fills the clearing.

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"This one looks like an elf, bit bulkier than most but the ears are a dead giveaway. Chena, he's got a pulse! Try to get him back to our camp while I harvest the wings from a few more of these bodies. Waste not wont not as they say." A deep voice mutters as a short man with smiling eyes lifts Henwick's body over his shoulder and walks casually through the burnt out battlefield.

A warrior with a wicked two handed blade and covered in scars continues moving through the warzone, every so often pausing over a corpse that is still intact and looting the gear on it or carefully harvesting the wings from the bodies, each item being placed into a separate satchel. As night begins to fall the warrior makes his way back into a makeshift campsite and nods as he see's an awake Henwick staring into the fire.

"Glad to see your awake, this battle looks pretty viscous especially where we found you. Giant crater in the ground and you were the only thing intact. I don't know your customs but your armor and clothing was destroyed so we grabbed some from a body that we thought might fit. Your welcome to food and rest in our company but soon we'll be moving south towards the deadlands to meet with the rest of the company that was on extermination duty. Nasty business but needed in these times. My name is Sage love, and he is Chena. We're the Brutal Burlesque duo. Heal up and try to regain some strength." Says the scarred man as Henwick numbly nods his head before slumping backwards and passing out once again.

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'These two will lead me to those bastards! I just need to continue playing along with them. Thankfully they seem to be different than those monsters and honestly I enjoy them but until I have my vengeance I can never let them know of my true goals.' Thinks Henwick happily as he nods at Sage and continues going through the gnomish tools, his smirk hiding his intentions as he pockets several mithril tools and turns to follow.