Winter in the Vaegir wastelands. Such a harsh and unforgiving climate. Perhaps exacerbated by the fact Tomas was sitting in a jail deep in the bowels of yet another hostile castle. It wasn't so bad, he told himself, allowing the slightest of smiles. He still had his loyal bandit companions. The faithful Lieutenant "Smoke" River eyed the guards shiftily as if looking for the slightest way out. Murmillus kept his head bowed low, the raging beast within quelled for the moment, probably by the less than ideal circumstances. Franky's eyes were out of focus: probably the mushrooms he had managed to hold onto before they were all thrown in the cell. The young, mysterious "Newer Wind" was unreadable, young innocent eyes to the floor, but looking somewhere far away. These were the few who remained, who were loyal to Tomas, or who had luckily been away from the camp when the soldiers came. Tomas wondered what could have happened to the others. Berenger... that pauper of a jester... he'd probably gone and betrayed them for some other Bandits or something during his self-imposed "exile". Phil was probably trying to hold together the remains of the band alone. Goodness knows what happened to Tzun Tzu and Shadowbow. With any luck Tzu would return to the camp after the fiasco was over, Tomas even entertained the image of his clueless face as the hapless shield-tank came back to an empty hideout. He hoped the best for Little Hobbit, Br0c, Momo, and the others, that they had gone on to more fortuitous paths. They'd probably end up as lone wolves in the wide world.
Suddenly, a commotion broke out upstairs, the clanging of metal and the screaming of wild combatants spilled down the stone stairway. The racket stopped. And with that, numerous footsteps pitter pattered down the stairs. The Turks had arrived to rescue the Annoying Bandits.
Several months later:
It was by some disgracefully undeserved luck that Tomas was discovered by Phil. Phil! Not just old "Clitoral Damage", but a lord, no doubt! A lord in the Kingdom of England, a small Monarchy ruled by King Killmoar the First, who had taken a shine to the privateering Phil, and actually made him a lord! He had stolen for the King, in many raids on various overseas factions, fought Armadas in vicious naval battles, and now, by some great chance, Phil had discovered Tomas, a traveller, or rather, a hobo, asleep outside ruins next to a field by a river. Tomas had survived by stealing eggs from the nearby farm, with superior looting skills. He'd always been in favour of using dexterity and many talents as opposed to brute strength.
"Phil."
"Tomas."
Tomas rose with a dirty grin and the two shared a manly embrace.
"I thought you were dead!"
"The Turks, Phil! The Turks rescued us! We escaped!"
"All of you?!?!"
"Me, Smoke, Murmi, Franky, Newer Wind, we escaped!"
"Well where are they now?"
Tomas's smile fell. he proceeded to tell of how the ABAND had decided to spilt up, go their separate ways. Tomas did not want to be responsible for the deaths of his comrades. Franky and Murmi both had fire coursing in their blood though, and would not give up the warrior's life. It was rumoured they had joined a feared and respected mercenary captain in his new faction. Smoke on the other hand, had given up the ghost. He had always been the second beating heart of the clan, the order to Tomas's chaos. So without the clan, he simply faded away into the horizon... like vapour. Almost as mysteriously as Newer Wind disappeared, with a brief farewell, and a tug on his long cloak. And now Phil and Tomas were gone too.
Several years later: Tomas's hand dropped in a nonchalent fashion. The unruly soldier was put to death on the spot. So much death... The Donkey God of Calradia seemed to have restarted the fire of ambition and leadership in men. All across the land, factions mobilised for war. And the Kingdom of England had to be ready too. So the King must be a strong king. A harsh and unforgiving king. And for the amount of intrigue he had undertaken to marry Lord Rhys's daughter, he surmised he was well on the way to fulfilling that end.
