Brulk groaned, rubbing his back against the pillar like a bear might against a tree. The Midgewater Marshes might leave much to be desired by the local Bree-folk, but to the Hillman they almost struck a chord as home. Almost. He'd taken to spending his off-time along the borders of the marshland, like he'd done as a boy. Clouds of flies were all that bothered him here, few people ventured out into the bogs and those who did likely did for the same reasons as him. Private moments, time away from the stresses of normal life. Brulk had reckoned it a funny thing, having stresses of the simple folk. Couple years past, when things with the Creoth had started to turn to shit, he reckoned he'd always have something to worry about. Getting killed usually topped off that last, and more importantly seeing one of his crew get cut down on account of some ballsed up command of his. Things had changed, and he reckoned that for the best. Reckoned he might finally have a shot of making that changed he'd wished for ever since the loss of his eye. Ever since that Cunt had taken it from him.
"Hard to recognise yer without that shiney eye.." Purred words from behind him, startling him from his thoughts. He rounded on the newcomer, his forehead finding the familiar frown lines etched into it once more. "Suppose it's hard to spot yer being trailed when yer missing half the equipment." The newcomer bared his teeth, sharp ones too by Brulk's reckoning, before stepping alittle closer. The close air and poor lighting of the marshland made it a pain the arse for Brulks eye to make out the face, but there was no mistaking it. Lyngar.
"What yer doing here, Smelling?" He asked, half way tempted to reach down for his knife and cut the bastards throat before he could spew any more words. "Just looking for an old friend.." the Bastard smiled that sharp smile of his. He'd a bow slung over his back, a dozen or more arrows too, and a blade on his waist. Brulk reckoned he hadn't come for a talk, and he knew that if he was seeking a friend he wouldnt have ended up standing where he was. "What yer' really after?"
"You heard much o' the tribes lately, Wight-Eye?" Brulk shrugged, and gave an ugly twist of his mouth. "Thought not. You aint' a popular lad anymore. Lesburr was a bitch, and a subtle one, but she had friends. Friends who aint' much better, by most folks reckoning, but powerful ones. Some money out on your head." Brulk smiled, that sounded more like the truth. "Suppose I might be tempted to collect."
"Suppose you might." grunted Brulk. "Suppose I might be tempted to stop yer." Lyngar bared his teeth once more, and ran his tongue across them gently. "You got a girl, eh? Never reckoned one o' your looks could get one of 'em, least without paying for it." Lyngar took a couple steps forward, not more'n a couple paces from Brulk now. "Found a new family too, eh?" The other hillman shot out a high-pitched laugh. "Some fuckin' sort o' knight now, I hear?" The two came face to face. Lyngar peered down at Brulk, standing best part of a head higher than him, with some smug sort of look on his face. "And you, Smelling? Still scratching out a living cutting up folk for braver men, eh?"
The other Hillman didnt like that, and his face didnt hide the fact. "Still abit o' fight in you, eh?" He smiled, those sharp teeth of his bared in a wicked grin. "You even any good without that stone eye o' yours?"
