The frigid stillness of the late Autumn morning in the Volish foothills, just north of the ruins of Vesparis, was disturbed by the snort of a horse as it's rider guided it cautiously into the frosty clearing. The man was shrouded in a heavy, dark blue cloak that completely covered his upper body except for his hands. Tugging on the reins, he brought his mount to rest on the clearing's edge,reached up and drew back the hood on his cloak. The face revealed was weathered and tan, showing the effects of extensive time outdoors and set with bright, sharp eyes that scoured the brush and undergrowth around the clearing with the intensity of a hawk seeking prey. He slid from his saddle and stretched his powerful frame as he made his observations quietly and confidently, without fear despite being far from the confines of the closest friendly outpost. He was Jaharis Trevorn, widely held to be the most efficient of the Volish scouts prosecuting the war against the unwanted demi-human settlers in the north of the Volish lands. He thought back over the events of the last few years that had led him to this point on yet another patrol for the Imperium's declining number of feeble, non-human unwanteds. It was a long journey from the halls of his family's manor in the south and he was far from happy with the progress he'd made toward his goal of re-establishing the family's wealth and sagging honor, despite his efficiency and skill. His thoughts were disturbed as his companions appeared around a bend in the trail, leading a string, of bedraggled, battered halflings they'd captured the previous afternoon in a raid on their small makeshift camp. The campaign of subjugation had been brutal and effective, as these stragglers could attest. They were slated as labor for the mines, now that the war effort had swung into full gear. The group was a pitiful lot; most without even coats or cloaks to protect them from the season's chill, barely as high as a man's waist and some even bearing the marks of Kenton's fists or feet where he'd " kept the little bastards in line ". " Any luck, Sergeant? ", this from Manfrik, the old infantryman the commander of the outpost has insisted Jaharis bring along in case of trouble. " None, Manfrik. The tracks end at the edge of this clearing. The little rats are as sneaky as any forest creature out here ", was Jaharis' reply. " Ahh, maybe a little fire and steel might loosen their tiny tongues, eh Sergeant? " said Kenton, nodding toward the line of prisoners. The ominous threat must have been heard, for the snowy brush behind the group exploded in a burst of movement as a small form bust forth, sprinting across the clearing. Kenton brought his horse around and called out, " Capture or make an example of the little bastard, sir? " Jaharis mulled it over a moment before replying, " He'd make thirteen caught on this patrol and we can ill afford the bad luck, can we? An example, Kenton! " Eager to please his superior, the scout urged his mount forward in pursuit of the tiny fleeing figure. The halfling snatched a quick glance back over his shoulder at his pursuer, but didn't slacken his pace. Quickly the scout closed the distance and readied his spear to run his victim through. At the last moment the halfling threw himself far to the right, grabbing a stone from the ground as he rolled. He was up in an instant, hurling the stone with the unerring precision of his race. It struck Kenton in the forehead, opening a deep gash and stunning him so badly that he tumbled off the back of his mount and slammed into the ground with a painful thud. The man lay there for a moment, seemingly unable to grasp what had happened to him. And, as he struggled to regain his wits, his tiny attacker drew a dagger and charged toward him, intending to finish him off. Kenton could see the hatred in the small face of the attacker bearing down on him, but the scene made no sense to him. The halfling grasped his cloak with a tiny hand and drew back his dagger for the coup de grace, focused entirely on slaying the scout before him. Kenton heard a soft hiss and saw the halfling shudder as he looked down in amazement at a clothyard shaft that had suddenly sprouted from his chest. He fell to his side beside the soldier and worked his mouth as if trying to say something. No words passed his small lips and Kenton saw the light leave his eyes as death took him. He was still trying to make sense of what had just happened as Jaharis strode over, bow in hand. The grim faced sergeant leaned down and offered the scout a hand up. He grinned at the bemused scout and said, " I said make an example, not be one, soldier. " He helped Kenton to his feet, passed him the bow and called back to Manfrik, still guarding the line of prisoners, " Alright, get them moving! I want to be back inside the fort by nightfall. " Kenton kicked the body of the fallen halfling at his feet, " What about him, Sergeant? " Drawing his dagger, Jaharis offered an evil smile and said, " Dragging in thirteen of the little rats may have been unlucky, but it would be plain foolish to leave an already earned bounty lay here, lad." Kenton turned away, a tad sickly, as Jaharis bent down to carve free the bloody scalp. He thought, not for the first time, that he was glad the sergeant was not a man he would want as an enemy, at any price.
