10-14-2017, 01:42 AM
The mottled wrappings the Sage wore blew slightly in the early morning wind as he sat crouched on an outcropping of rock at the top of the canyon walls. There were two of the tusken below him, laying on their stomachs, lower down the cliff face, rifles nearby. Eckward seemed not to have understood the intent of his rambling, or at least wasn’t persuaded to put his caravan significantly behind schedule. The Sage could see the caravan humming along the path, cloaked as it was in the dawn shadows of the canyons. He would need to act quickly before the trap was sprung.
The Sage gripped his walking stick tightly and slipped his way down towards the two perched snipers. It was time to meet a tusken.
“Morning, gentlemen! See anything worth the hunt?” he called out, the would-be ambushers whirling in surprise. The Sage noted their bandaged faces and strange metal masks, Life is not kind to these poor creatures, is it…
“You wouldn’t happen to be intending to rob that caravan…” The Sage began, although his bantering was cut off by one of the bandits, who stood up, rifle raised above his head, and uttered a stuttering guttural cry. The Sage instinctively started to assess the battleground. there was no mistaking the intent behind that cry, and it would likely have alerted the others too. He would have to be quick.
The first attack came from the crouched Tusken, the musket firing wildly, the aim off-center enough for the Sage to dodge with relative ease. The standing raider closed the twenty odd feet between them with surprising speed, and a low sweep up towards his jaw caught the Sage off-guard, sending him reeling backwards in a daze. The aging scholar-turned-explorer reoriented himself, settling into a stance. There is power, but little control. He thought, fingers thrumming as he gripped the dueling cane with both hands. I should not lose this fight.
We a swift exhale, the Sage re-closed with the nearer of the two tusken, using the window offered by the sniper’s need to reload. If he could down this foe in the interim, then he would erase their biggest advantage He rained several blows down on his surprised foe, the raider staggering and ineffectively swiping at his feints as the Sage overpowered him with strike after strike. The tusken floundered, but stubbornly weathered the barrage.
The clicking sound from behind him warned him that the second tusken would soon become a factor again. The sage switched stances, from punishing double-handed blows to lighter strikes dancing around his foe, doing everything in his power to keep the sniper unsure of the shot he was taking.
The Sage reached out with his limited magic, taking hold of the sniper’s rifle, but did not burden the weapon yet, lest his foe realize the trap. The Sage darted around to his left, placing the sniper behind the one he was still fighting, then telegraphed his next move. Crouching down unnecessarily far, the Sage leapt in the air, summersaulting over the nearer raider. The sniper read his movements and was ready for the jump, rifle up and about to fire. At the precise instant the tusken pulled the trigger, the Sage yanked down hard on the end of the rifle. The shot rang out, and the Sage had a moment of grim satisfaction as he heard it thud into the raider below him.
The Sage landed in a crouch, quickly closing the distance to the sniper. There would probably be too many others for him to prevent the ambush at this rate, His only hope would be to break their nerve. A wisp of flame trailing from one finger, the Sage rushed the sniper, batting aside his foe’s weapon and forcing him back towards the edge of the cliff. The Sage willed the flame larger, feeling the power within him fading even as his hand blossomed with the blaze.
“This may seem cruel, but I have not the time for civility.” The Sage muttered, lighting the cloth that enshrouded his foe on fire with his flaming hand. The tusken shrieked in surprise, the dry cloth catching flame with a sickening speed. The Sage grimaced, before leaping up to deliver a drop kick that sent the flame-wreathed raider wailing and tumbling down the cliffside.
The Sage got back to his feet, breathing hard. He wouldn’t be able to get to a fight down there fast enough to help if the tusken decided to attack anyway. he had warned the caravan of the ambush, but would it actually help anything? As if in answer to his concerns, a trail of smoke arched from the caravan’s second wagon, depositing a metal case amidst the tuskens on the opposite side of the canyon, seconds later a sickly pink cloud erupted from the impact, enveloping the area in an opaque haze. Tusken screams rang out but turned to gargles and were lost in the haze.
The Sage tore his eyes away from the horror across the canyon and glanced back at the caravan in time to see another canister arcing towards his side of the cliff. Without the time to consider his options he leapt, clearing the edge of the cliff side and began falling towards the canyon floor. A hissing of gas from behind him confirmed his choice of immediate action, but the looming ground approached with alarming speed and no solution surfaced in his brain. In retrospect, he thought as the rocky floor rushed towards him. It’s usually good to signal your own position on the battlefield.
The aging scholar smashed into the unrelenting stone.
The Sage gripped his walking stick tightly and slipped his way down towards the two perched snipers. It was time to meet a tusken.
“Morning, gentlemen! See anything worth the hunt?” he called out, the would-be ambushers whirling in surprise. The Sage noted their bandaged faces and strange metal masks, Life is not kind to these poor creatures, is it…
“You wouldn’t happen to be intending to rob that caravan…” The Sage began, although his bantering was cut off by one of the bandits, who stood up, rifle raised above his head, and uttered a stuttering guttural cry. The Sage instinctively started to assess the battleground. there was no mistaking the intent behind that cry, and it would likely have alerted the others too. He would have to be quick.
The first attack came from the crouched Tusken, the musket firing wildly, the aim off-center enough for the Sage to dodge with relative ease. The standing raider closed the twenty odd feet between them with surprising speed, and a low sweep up towards his jaw caught the Sage off-guard, sending him reeling backwards in a daze. The aging scholar-turned-explorer reoriented himself, settling into a stance. There is power, but little control. He thought, fingers thrumming as he gripped the dueling cane with both hands. I should not lose this fight.
We a swift exhale, the Sage re-closed with the nearer of the two tusken, using the window offered by the sniper’s need to reload. If he could down this foe in the interim, then he would erase their biggest advantage He rained several blows down on his surprised foe, the raider staggering and ineffectively swiping at his feints as the Sage overpowered him with strike after strike. The tusken floundered, but stubbornly weathered the barrage.
The clicking sound from behind him warned him that the second tusken would soon become a factor again. The sage switched stances, from punishing double-handed blows to lighter strikes dancing around his foe, doing everything in his power to keep the sniper unsure of the shot he was taking.
The Sage reached out with his limited magic, taking hold of the sniper’s rifle, but did not burden the weapon yet, lest his foe realize the trap. The Sage darted around to his left, placing the sniper behind the one he was still fighting, then telegraphed his next move. Crouching down unnecessarily far, the Sage leapt in the air, summersaulting over the nearer raider. The sniper read his movements and was ready for the jump, rifle up and about to fire. At the precise instant the tusken pulled the trigger, the Sage yanked down hard on the end of the rifle. The shot rang out, and the Sage had a moment of grim satisfaction as he heard it thud into the raider below him.
The Sage landed in a crouch, quickly closing the distance to the sniper. There would probably be too many others for him to prevent the ambush at this rate, His only hope would be to break their nerve. A wisp of flame trailing from one finger, the Sage rushed the sniper, batting aside his foe’s weapon and forcing him back towards the edge of the cliff. The Sage willed the flame larger, feeling the power within him fading even as his hand blossomed with the blaze.
“This may seem cruel, but I have not the time for civility.” The Sage muttered, lighting the cloth that enshrouded his foe on fire with his flaming hand. The tusken shrieked in surprise, the dry cloth catching flame with a sickening speed. The Sage grimaced, before leaping up to deliver a drop kick that sent the flame-wreathed raider wailing and tumbling down the cliffside.
The Sage got back to his feet, breathing hard. He wouldn’t be able to get to a fight down there fast enough to help if the tusken decided to attack anyway. he had warned the caravan of the ambush, but would it actually help anything? As if in answer to his concerns, a trail of smoke arched from the caravan’s second wagon, depositing a metal case amidst the tuskens on the opposite side of the canyon, seconds later a sickly pink cloud erupted from the impact, enveloping the area in an opaque haze. Tusken screams rang out but turned to gargles and were lost in the haze.
The Sage tore his eyes away from the horror across the canyon and glanced back at the caravan in time to see another canister arcing towards his side of the cliff. Without the time to consider his options he leapt, clearing the edge of the cliff side and began falling towards the canyon floor. A hissing of gas from behind him confirmed his choice of immediate action, but the looming ground approached with alarming speed and no solution surfaced in his brain. In retrospect, he thought as the rocky floor rushed towards him. It’s usually good to signal your own position on the battlefield.
The aging scholar smashed into the unrelenting stone.
If history is to become legend, it first must be recorded.