Thornes & Brambles

You couldn’t blame them for trying; the rich just had so much – and to leave it out amongst the mostly unguarded lands outside of Liones, well it was just begging for someone to make an attempt on the peace that this village represented. Who cared about fancy art and caricatures like this anyways? The fierce but dim-witted warriors took the village by storm – a vicious assault that took the mid-morning by surprise; even the birds that had sung the day’s tunes upon window seals were met upon with the sudden urge to abandon all hope of reaching the freedom of the expansive skies above.

Doors upon the frontal assault, along the main streets that they would happen upon, were broken with little trouble; the waves of barbarians sought to plunder this village like many of the others they’ve taken by force for days earlier in-route to this one now. Unbeknownst to each other there was a Sin hidden within the village who thought to make himself a hero amongst the rabble. But that was a story he, himself, would have to tell. It wouldn’t take long before the song-birds music was replaced with the shouts and cries of those without means to protect themselves; men, woman and children who couldn’t fight back – their hands were soft, maybe a couple callouses based upon the instrument they’d only ever known, or brushes that could simply mask their ignorance of what troubles lay across their manicured fields.

Still, this tale isn’t about the inadequate nature of these village-folk, but rather about the heavily-shrouded figure that slipped betwixt the barbaric warriors who attacked with axe and sword in hand. Singular figure amongst a hoard who, upon close inspecting eyes, would not have belonged; the barbarian movements were brash, vicious – the shrouded figure’s own were light-footed and swift, navigating through the bodies without worry that they’d turn their attention to him. Was the figure supposed to be amongst the men? Had he lead them here of his own accord? Then why did it seem that he moved between them with a purpose that wasn’t their own? It didn’t take long for the figure to disappear amongst the villager’s houses, cleaving his own path between one or two before finding himself upon a roof and quickly moving with feverous purpose toward the small village cathedral.

Why the roof-tops you may ask? Beneath the cloth robes wasn’t an assassin, although he may have had the look down to the fleeting eye. Perhaps it was to simply remove the twists and turns of what roads and alleyways the village possessed that could quickly turn into an adventure of its own sort. He wasn’t the best navigator to begin with and with the bodies quickly piling up with the absence of guards within – it was likely that the roof-top was his best bet anyways. Still, it’d take a moment for him to reach the cathedral – hopefully the brute’s assault on the village would be able to handle the Sin who’d maybe himself known, reinforcements were likely already on their way. There wouldn’t be a lot of time to be had as originally thought – he’d best make this quick.