A Series of Unfortunate Events

Garand sat cross-legged on the ground, Eothr and Fell both stood before him, debating about their next target. Garand, having been completely immersed in thought, only just began to listen to their bickering.

"...should take an easy target, not risk it! It's growing late now!" Eothr was the older of the three. Most cautious, did not like risks. Liked to resort to using his sabre to remedy them even less.

"Lost your will, old man? We have no curfew! And the target I laid me eyes on was definitely-"

"NO." Eothr roared, slamming his fist down on a nearby table for emphasis. Fell was younger, more animated than Eothr, and always had to have the last word. Interesting folks, not like the Elves, Garand would remind himself.

The three of them were in the old and hollow remains of some cot, a few tables, and chairs where all that remained, and at this point, there were more seats than there were walls. Garand still preferred the ground though.

"We've Garand with us! It can't be that difficult!" Fell said, arms motioning out to Garand, almost as proof of his existence.

Eothr was quiet for a moment as he turned to the cloaked figure.

"You'll get yourself and him killed. He had but the sorry end of a year to train with his blade!"

Garand raised his head up to the two, and Fell approached.

"Come, help me reason with this old man! He wouldn't know a damn good opportunity if it ran him through itself!"

Garand exhaled, gliding up to his feet in a fluid and graceful motion.

"Wise one," He started, staring at Eothr, "what troubles your mind?"

Eothr looked up at Garand, then at Fell.

"This bastard has a death wish, that's what! He wants to raid some guard outpost or other just because you can play your mind tricks. It won't work!"

Garand then turned to Fell, his cold gaze still causing the slightest amount of unease for the man.

"And you would use me for this task? What spoils have we to gain?"

"Plenty'o gear, weapons, likely enough to arm eight men. I've seen it."

"The bastards'll tear you in two 'fore you step through the door."

Fell growled, surrounded in an aura of anger.

"You're a coward, old man!"

Eothr had enough of this, he went for his sword, teeth bared. Garand stood between them, his arms trying to separate the two. Just then, there was a knock on the door.

"At the door. Someone knocks for us," Garand said, his gaze, along with the other's stuck on the door. The hole in the wall opened up to a big crack in the ground, which led down to who knew where. Eothr shoved Garand's arm away, before walking toward the door.

"The others didn't follow, I don't know who this is."

"We will soon enough," Fell said, adrenaline beginning to rush through him. He kicked a table over and behind it drew his bow. Garand took his place on the other side of the door, stiletto at the ready.

Eothr moved to open the door until it burst off of its hinges and fell to the ground. Garand could feel the blood rushing through his veins as an armored figure stormed through the door, and instinctively he began to stab at whatever wasn't covered in metal, mostly his legs. His back was turned, as he saw Eothr first, so the flurry of stabs was unexpected. Garand felt the man's pain and torment flow through him, and as his blood spilled, Garand mind felt sharper.

"They have-" was all Fell managed to shout before an arrow cut him off, sending him down to the floor behind the table. It seemed Eothr had managed to finish off their first assailant, but it had become apparent that there were more to follow.

Eothr examined the fallen man in armor, and then hissed in anger.

"Damn our luck! They're bounty hunters, here to cash in our heads. They must think the gangs all here."

What luck, indeed. When Garand joined up with the raiders a year ago, he never truly knew what he was getting himself into. But this was it. The thick of it.

"Then, wise one, we must escape," Garand stated, his eyes darting between Eothr and the still form of Fell.

Eothr furrowed his brows, gritting his teeth. They did not have much more time to think.

"We must descend the gape. It is our only way out of this mess. Damn this."

Garand hesitated not, darting over to the lip of the crack, a horrified expression on his face as he noticed archers on the other side. He had no time to react as an arrow flew across, digging into his shoulder. He lurched with pain, the force of the blow turning his body around, and he stared at Eothr, who mirrored his expression as Garand felt his legs go out from under him. Eothr moved to grab him but was too slow, and Garand fell, nothing but empty space and rushing wind surrounding him. He collided with steep earth, rolling some, and then flew out, colliding once more with the hard stone. It was then that he felt his leg catch on something, and bend it a way it was most definitely not supposed to, a sickly CRACK sending dread and pain throughout him. He let out a scream in his free fall and finally splashed into a pit filled with water. He flailed wildy in the drink, and by some sheer mesure of luck, he managed to take hold of the edge of this body of water. He pulled himself up, more pain shooting through him as he struggled to position himself out of the water. Once he was no longer in danger of drowning, he laid there, beads of sweat forming from the intense pain. He couldn't bear this, he had to end this pain. He forced himself into a sitting position, unable to hold back screams and exclaims of angony as he looked upon his leg, further dread filling him as he heard his own voice echoing and rebounding throughout the place. Oh it was most definately broken, twisted at an odd and akward angle that made Garand's stomach turn. He would pass out from the pain if he didn't stop it.

Garand's hands hovered over his leg, and despite the pain, he tried to think of a void filled with nothingness. His vison blurred almost instantly, but he let out a relived exhale as he was enveloped in blissful numbness. He fell to his back, no noise now but his own fatigued breathing. He grabbed drunkenly at his shoulder, pulling what remained of the arrow from earlier from it. He couldn't feel it, but knew he was bleeding. Placing a hand over where he assumed the wound was, he closed his eyes and began to think of a young sapling growing healthy and strong. The wound closed, and Garand had done all that he could for himself. Blood was already dripping from his nose, among other places, and he wanted to do no more than sleep in this dark place. He heard footsteps, though his mindspell of numbness muffled his hearing, along with his other senses. He was out of his mind at this point, and payed no attention to whomever was aproaching. His eyes were growing tired and heavy.