Post by Michael on Feb 8, 2023 15:14:48 GMT
A Call for Help
(Cunning as a Foxee - Prologue)
The cloaked figure perched hidden amongst the thick needles of the spruce tree, carefully observing the activities of the figures in the campsite below.
The tired grunts and curses that had echoed around the clearing as figures laboured unloading a large wooden cart pull up within the center camp for the last hour were now replaced with devious jeers and cackles mixed with the heavy chink of coin and celebratory drunk slugs from tin tankards. Soon, as the smell of burnt roasted meat filled the air the camp's villainous inhabitants settled down to an evening of scoffing and drinking all whilst gloating over another days work of ill gotten gains.
The watchful figure let out a sniff of disgust at the vile revelry below them. It could not continue, it wouldn't continue. They would put a stop to it. There was just one problem.
There were just too many of these buggers to deal on their own.
The figure's thoughts drifted for a few minutes along their gaze, eyes moving moving away from the ghastly scene below and slowly upwards to the sparkling starry vista of the night sky above. Their roaming view eventually settling on a very familiar glimmering star, a cluster of smaller yet proud others others pitched up around it.
Yes, that was right. There always came a time in the story when even the best heroes made a call for aid. Now time had come for them to do the same. That big stone old city stood just about half a days walk south of here, surely they'd have some folk of valour, selfless, kind, brave and just plain heroic who could help some?
The figure turned their head in the direction of their new destination.
Well if there was a journey to make, better hop to it, and with a quick flick of their cloak and flash of red, they disappeared back down amongst the dense forest canopy.