Konner of the Rawlinswood
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Character Name: Konner
Account: Captain_ClamThe twig snapped, as he had expected. Konner held his breath and slowly drew the bowstring with his back to the tree. He closed his eyes for a moment as he listened for the greenskin's footsteps.
Yes, there it was…
... the crackling of dried leaves... it was trying to move silently, Konner realised with one of his half-grins. He drew a mental picture of where the goblin should be now. He couldn't rush in. They were dangerous. Especially the sword-wielding ones.
He controlled his breathing, looked down at the drawn bow and the notched arrow. If he thought too much he would make a mistake. If he kept thinking about what could go wrong he'd never do it.
Konner slid to the left of the three, turned, aimed and there it was. Its mouth opened in a shriek as it prepared to charge. Then, suddenly, with a silk-like thwip, its skull was pierced by an arrow. The greenskin staggered back with the momentum and died with a soundless spasm.
Konner moved up to the corpse, quickly going through its meagre belongings with practiced ease. He pocketed the coins, uncorked the vile-looking, sticy bottle and smelled it with a knowing grimace. Goblin Gook, as most of the locals called it. Some kind of invigorating brew. It tasted like raw fish left to rot under a dead cow, but it worked. He pocketed the bottle too.
He unfolded a cloth, embroidered, with beautiful flowers in the corners. This was not goblin manufacture. He looked back at the corpse, grimly.
Fire. Smoke and fire in the woodsmen's cabin. The father hurrying the two boys to the door as their mother tried to protect them from the flames. The clear, night sky of the Rawlinswood above them, the stars shining like pearls on a black seabed.
The small, green-skinned creatures, beady eyes glinting red in the moonlight, tattooed bodies and needle-sharp teeth, wielding torches and bows. A rain of arrows. The hard thud of the missiles hitting the sides of the small forest cabin.
The soft slithering of the arrowheads into flesh as their parents were butchered as they rushed their children out.
The branches whipping at their faces as they ran, two scared boys hurtling into the darkness.
Yes, Konner remembered that night.
He remembered it every night.
Malcolm took the embroidered cloth and examined it.
"Human make. I'm sure. Probably a youngster's…." he said.
Konner looked into the crackling fire. Around them, the Rawlinswood seemed to spring to life with sound. The chirping of crickets. The far-away rumour of wind in the trees. Their home.
"Norwick you think?" Konner asked his brother. "Maybe Jiyyd?"
"I'd wager Norwick," said Malcolm. Saw a handful of travellers the other day past the Singing Rock. Maybe it was them. I tried to follow them safely till the town, but they weren't happy with the company. So I let them carry on. A couple of them got killed by a small band of bashers."
Konner nodded. Some travellers along the wood were wary of leather-clad, longbow toting men offering escort. It was normal. Townsfolk found it hard to trust others. They never realised it was too late till the goblins appeared en masse.
"I'll go into town tomorow," said Konner, huddling his cloak tighter around him and settling his head on a log. He watched the dying embers of the fire. For more than fifteen years the two brothers had lived in these woods, in the edge of the civilised towns of Norwick and Jiyyd. The forest gave them all they needed. Food, shelter, company...
... and revenge, thought Konner to himself. Since their parents death, Konner and Malcolm swore they would drive the goblins out of the Rawlinswood. Or die trying. And in the meantime, they would ensure that the horror of that night, more than fifteen years ago, would never again occur in these woods for as long as they remained alive. Sometimes as silent shadows among the trees, others simply offering their aid, they helped and protected travellers along the forest and helped them clear their way.
Konner looked at the cloth in his hand, passing his finger along the embroidered edges. He'd find out who it belonged to, and return it to its owners. The Rawlinswood would see no more pain or death if he could help it.
With a prayer to Mielikki on his lips, Konner fell asleep as the fire settled into its bed of grey-red ashes.
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