The Homecoming 44.

A Lane...

Tarong staggers from the storage building, bleeding from cuts and wounds. Another one comes at him, and he swings the broken plank in his right hand. Connecting with the head of the soldier who is trying to stab him with a shortsword.
The soldier hits the ground. Dead or unconscious. Tarong has no idea. He also doesn't care. As all he wants to do is to get away, and for the madness to end.
The troll, who has been working in the mill for the last three years. Had just finished the midday meal with Garvin and Bassele. Two of the other mill workers.
When some soldiers, from castle Almaeré down in Poldaér if their tabards are anything to go by. Turned up at the mill. Demanding that he go along with them. For what reason, the troll had no idea.
And when Tarong asked why they wanted him. He was told he was wanted for the killing of a half a dozen people in and around the south road that leads to the town of Poldaér.
The troll, who had absolutely no idea what the soldiers were going on about. Nor did his fellow mill workers Garvin and Bassele. Backed away from the soldiers who tried to grab him.
When he did, Tarong saw the soldiers draw their weapons, and from the look in their eyes, they intended to kill him there and then. Instead of taking him in for a public execution as they first stated they would do, for he was guilty of the crimes they have accused him of.
Tarong who as he was going to flee, wasn't all that surprised that Garvin went to intercede on his behalf. The young mill worker was always a bit of a hot head, whose temper was well known around town. When he wasn't at work or at home. He would often get into fights and scuffles.
What did surprise the ten and half foot tall, thousand pound troll. Was Garvin getting cut down by one of the soldiers, as he stood there between them and Tarong, yelling at the soldiers to fuck off, and find the actual person who was responsible for the murders along the south road.
There was a moment's pause as Garvin, with his head almost cut from his body, hit the ground. Then all hell broke lose, with Bassele running, yelling for help. While Tarong picked up one of the planks they'd just brought in from the cutting race, to the storage building, and threw it at the soldiers who rushed him.
Staggering away from the storage building, the troll stumbles as an arrow hits him in the back of the right leg. It doesn't really hurt, it's more of the surprise at getting shot, that caused him to stumble.
He looks back and sees one of the soldiers, blood pouring down his face, struggling to take another shaft from his quiver. Tarong throws the broken plank at him, the soldier tries to dive towards one of the racks in the storage building, to avoid it. But ends up howling in pain as it clips him, breaking his right arm.
The troll staggers away across the yard, he looks up the hill to the right. And sees Malmeré the mill owner, hurrying his wife and children into their home.
Nearby up the hill, Bassele yells at Tarong to run like hell, as he's spotted other soldiers in town, some of whom are heading to the mill on the northern outskirts of town, near the larger of the two streams.
The troll, who has been in this part of the Almaeré fief for nearly half of his life, staggers towards the road, that goes into town, for if he can get to one of the lanes that goes off it before any of the soldiers get close, he can cross one of the bridges, that goes over the larger stream. Which is deeper, and faster flowing than it looks.
As he staggers forward, one foot infront of the other, bleeding from cuts and slashes, and arrow and bolt wounds. Slightly disoriented, not to mention at a complete loss as to why he's been accused of murder, then getting attacked by soldiers from castle Almaeré.
He kind of wishes Malmeré had his mill on the otherside of town. Then he could of fled across the crop fields, and into the forest. Instead of going part way into town, to then get away from it.
Tarong shakes his head at the ridiculous thoughts one has when they've been attacked for no apparent reason, then fleeing for one's life. When he started work this morning, he did not expect today to go the way it has turned out, that's for sure.
Mira Reinholt the mage glances at lord Farque. For though the undead warlord said they wouldn't see what's happening. They're making their way north through town, instead of south to leave it. As they're intending to go to the town of Poldaér, which is two days travel to the south.
The undead warlord briefly stops, and Mira Reinholt the mage quietly asks him "What is it?". "Three people just died in pretty quick succession" replies lord Farque, he gestures in the direction they're going, and adds "On the north edge of town".
The once powerful mage nods in understanding, as he knows those three people have just died in a violent manner. The mage Reinholt figures they're soldiers from castle Almaeré in Poldaér, who they saw in the square a little earlier.
The heavily armoured deathlord nods his full helmed head to continue, and the two of them resume on their way, heading north through the mill town, that's situated around, and between a couple of streams.
As they get further north in the town, the mage Reinholt starts to hear a commotion. Yelling and shouting in the direction they're heading.
The two of them, the spellcaster and swordmaster from the city-state of Vexil, and the lord and ruler of the lands Farque. Cut behind a couple of houses, through garden plots, to get to a road. On which, a number of town folk are on, looking north, wondering what's happening.
The exiled Vexilian mage hears a few of them talking about how they saw a short time ago, some of the earl's soldiers from down in Poldaér, making their way to Malmeré's mill.
The spellcaster, who is also a highly skilled swordmaster, glances at the lord of the death realm beside him, who in the tavern they were in a little earlier, told him who it was that worked in the mill on the north side of town.
Mira Reinholt briefly puts a gloved hand on the hilt of the black, bladed sword at his left hip, on his belt.
He does the same, quickly reaching back over his left shoulder, to the unique looking double bladed sword strapped to his back, as he and the undead warlord approach a long lane, beyond which, is one of the bridges that goes over one of the two streams that run through and around town. There's a yell of pain, followed by shouting from around some buildings up ahead in the lane.
Then all of a sudden, a large green figure, comes stumbling around from those buildings, falling to the ground, crushing a wooden bench, and some empty wooden cages used for poultry.
The individual, who must be about ten and half foot tall, who's probably a thousand pounds in weight. Has an axe in his back, and a broken spear in his side, there's quite a few arrows and crossbow bolts in him too. And he's bleeding from various wounds.
He tries to get up, but ends up crawling in the direction of Mira Reinholt and lord Farque, who have come to a stop, and watch the wounded troll coming towards them, as a number of people come hurrying around from the side of buildings, and enter the lane.
They're eight soldiers from castle Almaeré in Poldaér, with them is the constable of the fief. They come to a stop, when they're see their quarry on the ground, crawling along the lane. There's a few chuckles from some of the soldiers. While a couple of others scowl. From one who has blood running down his face, is nursing a broken arm. While the other is scowling as wraps a belt around his left arm, that has blood running down it.
All eight of the soldiers, along with the constable, look up and pause. For though the town folk who were in the lane have fled. There's still two people standing in the lane, looking at them, as the troll on the ground crawls in their direction.
The two men are strangers, obviously not residents of the mill town. One is large, over six and half foot tall, in a dark suit of full plate armour. There's a plain looking mace on his right hip, and the hilt of a massive sword sticking up over his head and left shoulder.
While the other, who is about six foot tall, and is in a black hooded cloak. Has a dark sword on his left hip, and blade sticking up over his left shoulder, while he has a bow over his other shoulder.
The two of them are just standing there, not looking at the troll crawling in their direction. They're looking at the eight soldiers and the constable who have come from castle Almaeré, in the town of Poldaér.
"M'lord" says the constable of the fief to the large, heavily armoured figure standing in the lane "I'm Laudác, constable to earl Almaeré" continues the constable, who gestures at the crawling troll, and adds "Don't let the troll by you, he's wanted for murder".
Mira Reinholt glances sideways at lord Farque, and wonders if the undead warlord will say anything in response to the constable of the fief, who has just spoken to them.
The once powerful mage suspects he will, and he's not at all surprised when the heavily armoured deathlord says to the constable of the fief "Are you sure about that?".
"M'lord?" says constable Laudác after pausing in surprise, then the constable to earl Almaeré says "I can assure you, that Tarong the troll is guilty of murder, infact a number of them, all done this winter on the road between here and Poldaér to the south".
"Are you absolutely sure about that?" asks the undead being who is known as Draugadrottin to the people of his lands, who glances at the mage Reinholt who has just cast a spell. The exiled Vexilian mage slightly shakes his hooded head no.
"Yes sir knight, I'm absolutely sure that troll is a murderer" says the constable of fief Almaeré.
The highly skilled swordmaster slightly winces when the local constable calls lord Farque a knight.
The once powerful mage hears the lord of the death realm mutter "Fuckhead" at being called a knight by the constable of the fief. Then the undead warlord murmurs something in elven to the Vexilian mage in exile, who slightly nods his hooded head when he hears it.
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque then walks forward, then Des'tier as he's known by to an older generation of elven kind who might know he is. Who has brought along the bottle of brandy with him that he purchased in the tavern in the square, that he and Mira Reinholt were in earlier.
Stops right infront of the crawling troll, the deathlord of Farque then says something in a language no one in the lane understands, with the exception of himself, and one other.
Tarong the troll, who has come to a stop on the ground, when after wiping blood from his left eye, and seeing steel boots, and armoured legs just infront of him. Blinks in complete surprise, when someone says to him "Here, drink this. It'll make you feel better".
It's not what was said, but in what language it was said, that's totally taken him by surprise. In was said in trollish, a language he has not heard spoken in over a decade, when he last visited the hill range he's originally from. In the unruled lands, northwest of the kingdom of Druvic.
The troll, looks up and sees a bottle of some kind of alcohol being held down to him. He looks upwards and sees who it is that's standing over him, a tall, for a human anyway, figure in dark blue, black plate armour that covers them from head to foot.
Tarong groans, then says in the language of his birth "I didn't do it". "I know" says the person standing infront of him, who speaks trollish perfectly. Something the mill worker has never encountered before apart from other trolls.
"Here take it" says the heavily armoured figure, who slightly shakes the glass bottle, of what smells like brandy to Tarong. The troll reaches out and takes the bottle, as he hears the voice of the constable of the fief say "Hey, what are you doing there?" followed by "Don't do that" he then adds "Sir knight, step out of the way".
The wounded troll blinks in surprise again as his naturally enhanced hearing picks up the large, heavily armoured figure standing infront of him mutter in common "Shut the fuck up you cunt" in response to what the constable just said.
Then in trollish, he tells Tarong "Don't go anywhere" followed in a slightly dry tone with "Not that you can get that far anyway with the fucked up state you're in".
Then he steps by Tarong, and walks by him, continuing down the lane, behind where the wounded troll lies.
The troll slightly gasps as he feels a wave of heat pass over him, then he hears a scream of pain, that's cut off in an instant. As he lies there, the mill worker hears something burning, and he catches the smell of burning flesh. He gags as he realises it's somebody on fire, then he hears other screaming, as well as shouting and yelling from the soldiers and the constable in the lane.
Tarong as he lies there on his stomach, hurting like hell. Pulls the cork out of the bottle with his teeth, and he takes a drink of the brandy.
The troll who works in one of the mills in town, definitely didn't expect today to go the way it has, when he started work this morning, that's for sure . . . . . .