Chapter 4: The Capture

Myr was awake instantly, wondering what had awakened him. Silently he reached over and put his blowgun together before sliding a dart in, just in case. There it was again! Someone was trying to get up here. He scented the air and his nose wrinkled in distaste. Hobgoblins. He sniffed again. Something else was there… something smokier and oddly familiar. He grimaced and listened carefully. He heard a rock slide and tumble of the edge of a precipice, and a hushed curse and insult.

He grinned and rolled onto his stomach, ignoring the rock that was digging into his gut and lying as flat as he could and blowgun at the ready for any target that showed itself. These guys apparently had never taken a stealth course before. Oh well, he thought, their loss. The chance he was waiting for arrived as a hand found its way over the edge of the mesa, searching for a handhold.  He almost chuckled as he took a breath and aimed.

A quiet whistling sound is all that escaped the blowgun, but the dart found its mark, lodging itself deep in the middle of the searching hand. A loud yelp shot out from a very surprised throat as the hand shot back over the ledge. By the sounds of it, the owner had made the mistake of grabbing the injured limb with his other hand. The fading scream echoed through the canyon walls and ended with a quiet thud at the base of the cliff. Very quickly several more sets of arms tossed over the cliffs, and several hobgoblins came up into view. Myr dropped the blowgun and barred his teeth before he pulled out his black bladed daggers and spun them impressivly before putting himself into a defensive position. Two fingers on the hand closest to them beckoned. They listened and the fight was on.

Three of the goblins charged him head on, their hand axes flashing in the wan moonlight. He easily dodged the first ones clumsy attack, and planted his daggers into the base of its skull as it tripped over the rock that was previously in Myr’s gut. He barely pulled them out in time to avoid the others attacks though, as he dropped to his back on the ground, one of the blades still leaving him feeling like he'd lost a patch of fur on his cheek. These guys are definitely better, he thought as he parried another double swing and both feet full force into the goblins knees. A nasty crunch and a scream and, followed by another kick to the jaw, and one more goblin fell into the abyss. Using momentum from that spin, Myr twisted on his side in the air, rolling up the goblins arms as it missed its swing, before plunging both of his blades into its throat and shoving it off the edge.

Quickly he spun around, a pair of short swords in hand to challenge the next group. They grinned darkly, and he noticed how open they left their chests. He smirked and lunged. Almost lunged… his leap was aborted by powerful-clawed hands around his arms, and a stout clout to the head.


        The one-eyed hobgoblin glared nastily down at the unconscious cat-man, and looked back into the shadows at the demon standing guard over the limp form.

"C'mon you load of slaggurts! Lets take him to the boss." There was another round of slimy laughter as they tied Myr up and dragged him off the cliff, and into the forest.

The moons face was suddenly covered in clouds, as if to blind it from the happenings. A single black and white flower drifted on the wind until it came to rest on the place where Myr had slept, before the wind picked up again, and blew it out over the sea of grass, towards the forest.