Thaen Yard

A low wind picked up over a desolate landscape. Tall withered grass covered the rolling hills, rustling and waving in a choir of decay. The old, gnarled trees creaked and groaned with age, their leafless bodies no more than a faint hint of darkness in the horizon. It was as if no life existed, no creature dared stir. And yet there it was. Past the old broken barn and no more than a few paces to the east a shadow crept along the side. It paused every so often, pushed up to peer over the thick weeds and disappeared once more without a trace.

Every moment or so he would appear, a young boy in mid teens. Peering down the barrel of an old rifle he would sweep the area for signs of any other movement and quickly duck back down again. Another shadow appeared several yards away and he reached to ease the safety off. The click was muffled by his hand yet it seemed the defias still took note of it. Emotions of fear turned to excitement and anticipation, the surge of adrenaline snapping him out of his weary state. Today was the first day he killed a man; already the thoughts of it faded. In a matter of moments it would happen all over again.

The rogue crept forth a ways before moving to the side. He stumbled upon a low patch of grass and caught a glimpse of the boy. A split second later a loud crack echoed off the side of the barn and a loud ringing came to his ears. His body convulsed, arms shaking and raising to the sides with head snapping backwards. From what came of a coin sized hole in the forehead turned into the entire back half of the rogue's head splattering in all directions.

The boy dropped to a kneeling stance once more and slid another shell into the breach. He fell on all fours and scampered to the body. The rogue ended up propped against the side of the barn with all weight on one leg. The boy took only a moment to scan the area once more before pushing the knee and forcing the corpse to fall. What little wind that was left in the lungs shot forth from the impact with spit rolling down the chin. Ignoring the gruesome sight he got to work, forcing his eyes away from the gaping hole and the flies picking at the brain matter. A knife, compass, one day's ration of food, even a crossbow.

Pausing at the mass of gold in a belt pouch he slowly dropped his guard and reached to inspect it. One large piece was held up to the light. No sooner had the foolish act happened a knife whizzed past and split open his cheek. Another rogue advanced on him with blades drawn.

Confused and in pain the boy spun around and sent a wild shot to the side. A clear miss led to the defias launching herself into the air and coming down hard on him. The impact threw him against the barn where he bounced off and landed adjacent to her. As she stood to collect herself the boy rolled over, gripped the barrel of his rifle and swung hard. The blow slammed her head into the wall where she fell back into the grass. Before the rogue could find her way back to her feet he was upon her. There was no struggle. The knife was already in her chest.

"He's in the thicket!"

The call rang out over the heartbeat in his ears. Finding the rifle bent and the bullets scattered he dropped what was left of the load, tied the first rogue's pouch of metal quarry onto his belt and picked up the crossbow. Another appeared from over the hill; the defias were sending their newly recruited in as fodder. Just as the closest layer of grass began to part the boy let loose the first shot. With a dull thud and cry the defias fell back into shadows.

Another shot was loaded and fired into the hillside. Someone cursed and dropped low, giving him enough time to vanish. Three figures appeared, one taking the time to draw his dagger over the wounded man's throat and end his pleading.