The Rescue of Rodrik from the Erayax

Military: Skirmish

A group of Ashnoorians, Lead by Tombs set out to rescue Rodrik from the Erayax

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Lead up to Battle

Sleep was difficult from Rodrik. Every inch of his grime covered body screamed with pain, so much so that even the slightest movement would awake him. His jailers had seen to it that that his beatings had been frequent and brutal. The area around his left eye is badly swollen, his only means of vision presently was from his right eye. He can’t remember how long it has been since he last saw clearly. Not that it mattered as his cell was dank and next to no source of light anyway. Despite their efforts, the flame of defiance still flicked inside him, but Rodrik knew that the flame could only last so long. It was hard to tell how long it has been since he was captured. He recalled some travel early on, but not enough to give him the feeling he was irreversibly far from home. Mostly he just languished in his cell, trying to keep track of the days by noting the routine of the guards. He guessed it had been around a month maybe but could not be sure. Recently overheard talk between the guards had revealed to Rodrik of preparations underway to move again, their destination a well-known slaver from what he could gather. At least the beating had lessened recently. No sense in damaging the goods any further after all. Truly his situation was hopeless. Unbeknownst to him though, less that a day away a small group of Ashnoorians were closing in on his location with the intent of freeing him from his predicament.

A Journal entry from Nechtan

Cold light rain and a strong northern wind battered Nechtan as he moved westward along the Road toward Morridale. Wars pay well, if you fight for the winning side. Losers however are generally not as generous, or even trustworthy to keep and honour agreed upon contracts and payments. Such is the way with this way of life. It is the life of the sell sword. War is so unpredictable. Always a gamble, a roll of the dice. As he approached the gateway to the walled town, a comforting ray of sunlight burst through the bilious clouds, and dampening weather. He closed his eyes as a trudged on, and for a moment, transcended the elements into days long past. Laying down in quite fields during harvest time, watching the sunset across the hills, shining its soft rays upon his peaceful farming village. There he was with his fellow Cruithne tribesmen, family and kinsmen all. Far beyond all of this, far away, in a secret place tucked away in the north where they thrived. Until the horde came, and slaughtered them all, ending their peaceful way of life in a storm of bloodshed and flames. The sun vanished again; it’s comforting rays choked out of the sky by the billowing dark mass above. All he could feel now was the familiar piercing cold elements, and the increasing darkness of the vanishing, dismal day. The rage burned inside him at what he had lost, slowly subsiding with the melancholy acceptance of what he had left. As he trudged in through the gateway of the town and past the bleak looking guards, he saw a poster plastered to the wall amongst the other town notices, placed conspicuously on a large parchment where it could be easily seen and read by travellers.
“Seeking blades for hire."

Search and rescue mission to retrieve Knight of the Hadovean Empire, Rodrik Stormsetter. Last seen being carried away into the Northern lands by a war party of Erayax. High risk mission with high pay, Reward to be split only between contractors who survive the mission and return with the Knight. Alive, well and intact preferred Full payment on delivery Warning, this mission will carry you deep into territory controlled by the Erayax. Survival is entirely the responsibility of contractors. Contractee offers no compensation for injury or death of contractors

Nechtan eyed over the notice grimly. A chance to slaughter Erayax fiends, highpay, A journey into the old North. Why not. After months of fighting back and forth between kingdom and empire, it would be a decent change of scenery at least. A noble deed to rescue a tormented knight for certain, and a decent paycheck. But most importantly, a grand opportunity to remind those creatures up north that there is still at least one Cruithne still that draws breath. Unbent and unbroken, not cowering in a hole somewhere with an empty stare, but with axe, sword and shield at the ready, and with fire burning inside. “Why not! Where do I sign up?!”

Battle Result

The Ashnoorians where able to break into the slave encampment and rescue Rodrik
The wooden cart he was laying in rumbled over the uneven terrain. Every bump sent bolts of pain throughout his body, but Rodrik didn't care. He was safe, he was on his way home and he had this band of Ashnoorians to be thankful to for that. His summoned the strength to open his eye momentarily as if to confirm that he was not dreaming and they were indeed heading home. To the side of his cart Tombs rode silently. On constant guard, it is unlikely he will rest at all until they are safety home. To the front the Erayax defector, By no accident positioned there so the Ashnoorians can pay close attention to him. For now the Ashnoorains will recognize his role in freeing Rodrik. But one wrong move.......... well.... better to be safe than sorry. Nechtan, knowing full well the brutally of the Erayax would gladly deliver the kill if the need arised.

Rodrik's perspective after the battle

Rodrik woke to the smell of fresh bread and the familiar smell of juniper berries and viscera utor boiling, he looked around his surroundings trying to gauge whether this was real life or a figment of his imagination that he would do to block out the pain from the 're-education' he would endure from the jail guards. Nope, this was real, Rodrik sighed with relief. His chest hurting as he breathed, he deffinently had a few broken ribs among other injuries from the hospitality of the Erayax. But he was alive, which was the main thing. Rodrik thought about the lives lost to save his life.
"All for one man?" He questioned, as a tear rolled down his cheek. He knew that he had to make sure their sacrifices were not in vain! Lifting himself up on his elbow he noticed a woman standing over a cauldron reciting a prayer.
"Finally awake i see!" Exclaimed the woman as she turned with a bowl of the unknown mixture.
"Here, it will help with the healing process, you'll need all your strength to overcome the process I'll have to put you through." Rodrik made a distrustful look,
"Who are you and were am I?" The woman gave a slight laugh,
"Thats a secret that I will never tell. Just know your friend with the Crimson Hand on his pauldron brought you here. He's outside waiting for you. Hasn't left for 3 days, you have one hell of a friend there. Even though he keeps trying to steal things from my hut, the bloody pest." Said the woman.
"Tombs!" Announced Rodrik, a tone of surprise in his husky, cracked voice.
"You stupid man. You'll ruin the healing blessing I've given you and those stitches in your side." Said the woman.
"My name is Stori, and I'm here to help you, so drink this soup and eat some bread, and rest. You have a long road to recovery." Stori tilted the bowl to Rodrik's lips, a couple seconds later, Rodrik started to feel like his head weighed a ton. *thump* Rodriks vision went black.