The two are readying their steeds and regulating their own quivers and packs, their cloaks wet and their hairs dripping. They look at each other, one with contempt and the other with frustration. There is an eerie feeling as twilight falls and the girl lets out a final scream of agony before her scream vanishes into the night.
The cobblestone is cold and wet and only a few flickers of light are lit in the town, those who are around now are only the crooked and the lawless. The rain falls without mercy as pools of muck forms everywhere on the road made of dirt. A girl cries out in the darkness of twilight, her scream muffled by a rough and dirt covered hand belonging a ruffian. Wicked laughs drowns the girls cry for help and the darkness devours her. For a second there is hope; for the door of the inn opens and light fights of the darkness on the walls. Two hooded figures stand in the archway glowing with glory by the lanterns behind them. The two witness the horror yet they do nothing to intervene. The shorter one stares at the taller and with frustrated look on his face says something to his fellow. With a grim face the taller turns to the cluster and simply eyes them, taking in their expressions independently before turning away and with a stern voice calls for his shorter fellow. The tall and grim man has walked away but his companion remains in the archway, gazing upon the girl that lay helpless on the cold and wet cobblestone. Their eyes meet as they stare at each other before he too walks away.
A last cry of misery is heard before it is overcome by the sounds of hideous laughter as well as the sounds from the tavern; cheering, drinking and shouting. Before that too is devoured by the twilight and the horrible fall of rain.
Inside of the inn they both sit in similar attires, modest clothes that are covered with dirt as well as ridden with holes and patches. They each have one empty plate in front of them and crumbs in their laps. The tavern is rowdy and filled with drunk patrons and busty barmaids, the stench of alcohol, pipe weed and mead fills the room as the hour grows late. The plainness of the two makes them blend in to the crowd and if it was not for their calm behavior and tranquil way about them they would disappear in to the shadows, yet their presence was hardly known by any of the drunk patrons.
In the corner of the inn a girl sits, surrounded by suitors and men that wanted to have her pleasures for the night, she seems to be out of comfort with the many people around her. By the judge of her petite figure and sweet face one would not peg her for being older than sixteen summers. Her face and chest are flustered and rosed by the warmth of the tavern and the spirits that she has downed over the course of the evening. Not before long four large, beardy and ill-looking men drag her outside seemingly against her will. The two take little notice to the course of actions that is occurring. After a while they both decide to leave, hassling through the overcrowded inn, bumping in to drunk patrons before finally reaching the back exit. As they step out they are met with a screech and the sight of four men pressing themselves on the young girl.
“We must help her, surely this happening is not of mutual consent.”
He looks at his shorter companion before turning to the horrified girl under a pile of men. He looks back at his companion and with a weary sigh Luithrandir replies.
“Our dealings are not within the walls of this town, we are watchers of the wilds and protectors of the countryside. We are not the law, we are not the city watch and that girl is not our responsibility. Come now, prepare your horse.”
The two readies their steeds and regulates their own quivers and packs, their cloaks wet and their hair dripping. They look at each other, one with contempt and the other without expression. There is an eerie feeling as twilight falls and the girl lets out a final scream of agony before her scream vanishes into the night.