Randel Trebond looked down at his cuffs, he sat in the shade in front of a wooden thatched building on the main street of Harbinger. He watched as the burly crew member of the elven ship loaded the ragged old cart with another barrel. He had been at it for a few hours. It seemed that they were short on man power, so the fellow… what was his name…. Leslie! Leslie would walk him down the street and tell him to sit in front of a building, then the bloke would slowly load up on the oil and materials needed, make Randel stand and walk ahead of him while he pulled the cart to the next stop. Randel watched as the shirtless crewmen heaved with exertion after hoisting the last barrel onto the cart. The last day and a half had caused Randel to think a lot about his situation. He had been hired on as a mercenary to help a minor lord with security. It hadn’t seemed so bad, the pay was reasonable and the work load had been pretty light, patrol the streets, make sure there were no terrorist actions, and report to his sergeant if he heard anything suspicious in the pub. He kept a quarter of his earning for himself and the rest he sent back to Truegar for his mother, sister and her kids. It wasn’t until after he’d been captured, after he’d been forced to sit in on the town hall that be began to hear the atrocities he’d been a part of. Count Aderal killed the Yoeman, Count Aderal had had a farm salted, Count Aderal had taken the innkeepers wife and beaten her to death,Count Aderal had killed the old town guards. And in many cases not only the Count but men he had worked with, men he worked beside had carried out these orders. He had always thought Harbinger an unfriendly town, the people had never friendlied up to him when he was in the inn and off duty, but if they were living in fear, being treated like this… how had he never seen it before? He shook his head in disgust with himself, he truly deserved whatever fate these people set upon him.
CRASH“BY ANAMACHRAS FROZEN GASH ARE YOU KIDDING ME!” Leslie cursed stomping around. The wheel had popped off the cart causing it to tip and spill most of its contents. “BY YOLO’S SALTY BALLS ON THE MOLTEN ANVIL OF DUMANTHION I SWEAR TO ALL THAT’S HOLY IF ONE MORE DROKK OF NERRID GOES WRONG I WILL MURDER EVERY KELEZANDRI PEDDLING TWERP NUGGET IN THIS BLASTED STEAMED ANUS OF A TOWN….DROOOOOKKKKKKKKKK!” Randel watched somewhat impressed… he supposed a sailors reputation for language was indeed well founded. He swallowed the lump in his throat and steeled his resolve before calling out to the angry sailor
“Release me… please” Randel hadn’t expected his voice to croak but nodded to accent his point. The sailor rounded on him
“What? Are you mad?” the sailor cracked his knuckles and approached, Randel hurried to explain
“look, you’re never going to get that wheel on by yourself… and there is nowhere for me to run, and nothing I can do to stop any of this… what I did was wrong… let me help… please” Leslie looked at Randel for a long moment weighing the odds
“If you try anything I will tear you an new asshole” he said patting the sword at his belt
“That’s fair… I guess” Randel agreed.