Demonsub is Five Leagues From The Borderlands

Hands sat at his favourite table in the only pub in the hamlet of Hillsend, nursing his pint and absorbed in his thoughts. His life had changed quite a bit since signing up with Mortay’s Rangers and journeying to the Untamed Coast to rid the area of its various enemies. Ok things had sometimes not gone exactly to plan and coin was always in short supply but he did enjoy his new life and he believed he’d found his purpose. 

The warband was originally charged with ridding the area of threats, an undead worshipping cult, a gnawling horde of beasts that walked and acted like men, and an invading barbarian warband. Things had however gotten in the way, especially the roving thieves and outlaws that plagued these lands. That was indeed one of the reasons why the Rangers were back in Hillsend, to finally revisit a thieves camp in the hills nearby that was responsible for stealing the party’s gold back when they first arrived in the region.

But before that they had taken up a contract to ride a series of patrols around the area of Hillsend as gold was in need to pay a blacksmith to mend their damaged equipment. Then there was a quest that they’d accepted to retrieve something or other. Also there was that worrying trouble in the north of something happening deep underground. Too many things to do, too many distractions. Still, at least Hands wasn’t in charge. He was happy enough to follow and live the adventure.

“How much for the pint?” Hands asked the barman. 

“Nothing mate, that one’s on the house, along with a few others. Seems there’s one or two people here that like what you’ve been doing. Keep it up and there’s plenty more ale where that came from”. 

The next day Hands and the others were getting ready to ride another patrol. The local blacksmith had been set to work mending both his armour and Gregnil the dwarf’s old battered helmet the previous day with coin made from the sale of turnips and Jeremy’s old staff.

Kremmel had been muttering to himself all morning as he’d been trying to study the previous evening but for the other’s loud and wild drinking, thanks to the free ale and food. He said his studies were important and if this continued he had to go off on his own. They all knew he wouldn’t but that was wizards for you, always grumpy.

————-

The woods had slowly grown quiet and the trees were thinning. They were all on edge. It was apparent they weren’t alone. Petra had been scouting ahead when she suddenly appeared.

She directed them to a clearing and a small lake of water where a pack of roving fiends were drinking. They would all have to be dispatched as even one fiend would be a threat to a farmer or a traveller.

Taking positions, Petra and Gregnil let loose arrows but both missed their targets, alerting the fiends. To make matters worse Gregnil was also out of ammo. He had neglected to bring more than one arrow. Hands could see the embarrassment on his face.

Kremmel, finger pointing at a fiend cast a mark on it, making it easier to shoot, unfortunately everyone else was out of possession to take advantage. 

Gregnil moved up to a wall preparing for the onslaught of the charging fiends.

“These things are tough” Hands heard Gregnil mutter as his sword bounced off a fiend’s skin. He, Kremmel and Petra each manage to push back their assailants but a lucky shot had damaged Petra’s quiver, losing the rest of her arrows.

Kremmel muttered a word and the arrows magically found their way back to Petra and the quiver was repaired. She nodded her thanks and ran forward.

More shots were loosed but not a single one hit due to the speed of the fiends charge. Mortay took a battering and went down, his armour taking the brunt of the damage.

It wasn’t long before Dar was severely winded and with the help of Kiri they managed to escape the battle along with Kremmel. 

Petra stunned a fiend with an arrow but took a nasty cut for her trouble. 

Hands, confused, seeing people injured and running, decided to run himself thinking all was lost.

Hours later and it was starting to get dark. Hands had still not found the others and the sound of the fiends was getting closer, or was it his imagination? He couldn’t tell anymore, he was too exhausted. This ground in this part of the woods was getting treacherous, with loose stones everywhere. At last, Hands thought as he spotted familiar shadows in the distance and walked towards them.

A few days later Gregnil laid the last stone and stepped back. Kiri wiped a tear and sniffed. None of them could understand how Hands had gotten lost, the confusion of battle, some magical trick of the fiends? They had found his body the next day after the battle miles away, thanks to Petra’s careful tracking. Gregnil had killed two of them in the battle before he left but the surviving fiends it seemed had tracked the lone Hands and eventually caught up with him. Alone, he never stood a chance.

Arriving back in Hillsend more bad news was waiting. Walking lizard men had been spotted coming ashore north of Tidemouth in the marshes there. Another problem Mortay’s Rangers would have to deal with.

Still, that would have to wait for tonight they’d drink to their friend Hands, Hero of Hillsend.