Pren sat outside on the bridge of Lhan-Tarren, looking out over Trum-Dreng with a small smile as he sees the lands he calls home. After many months of being North and travelling to Dunland with his wife, Gwennol, he was happy to sit down and look over the hills where he grew up. Looking to a broken cart, thinking of one of his favourite ambushes on a convoy of goods..
Another dark night in Dunland, the only light on this path was that of torches attached to ox-drawn carts and caravans. Painted on leathers hung from the side of these carts were the symbols of the avanc clan. The task given to the men was simple, to take the six carts from Dunbog to Galtrev without drawing much attention. Twenty men were sent with the carts to guide and guard them, a few men to each one. The hours passed by in the night as the carts passed through Dunland without any problems apart from having to scare some wolves off the road.
Hurried footsteps ran along stone and grass, and before long a fur-dressed scout returned to Pren and the other falcon clan warriors who were waiting behind large rocks that rested atop the slope leading down into a pathway; a perfect place for ambushing. The scout panted out, signalling to the road, “They are coming! Six carts and a handful of men! All carts look filled to the brim!”. At this, Pren nodded and got into posistion, the rest of the falcon warriors soon following and before long all that had to happen was to wait for the perfect time.
Before long, that time had come, the carts were in place and the dim light of the torches illuminated the small valley in which the ambush would take place. Just as all the carts were in the range of where the falcons were spread out, Pren and a handful of other men stood upright and lifted their horns to their lips and blew into them. Ringing out deeply before shouts and the banging of weapons filled the air! Sending fear to the avancs in the valley, making them fumble and stop at the noise!
All was quiet for a few moments until the falcons started to pour out over the crest of the slopes, charging down with axes and mattocks in hand. Running down with war cries as they slam into the sides of the carts and the men protecting them! Axes swinging and blood soon sprays outwards as the fighting started!
Pren was one of the first to be down there, slamming his shoulder into the chest of one of the avancs to send him backwards into the cart before another falcon followed along and swung his mattock down upon his head. Moving to the ox dragging the carts, he cut them free with his axe before letting them run up the road where more falcons awaited to catch these for themselves. Pren then turned, receiving a club around the side which made him fall into the cart with a grunt. Lifting his wood cutting axe in both hands, gripping it tightly he starts to swing forward! Grunting as it slams into the wooden cart, receiving a fist to the jaw before he uses the handle of the axe to slam it into the mans nose. Swinging his axe upwards, then downwards to send the man to the ground.
The avancs grew thin in number, though they still put up a fight. Pren had stopped, lifting his axe and began to swing it into the sides of the wooden carts to be able to get to the goods. Breaking his way into it with hard strikes, soon the remaining falcons joined after the avancs were killed and the carts were broken and stripped apart. The valuables being taken and the scrap left on the side of the road to burn with the dead. The ox were taken back for the Falcon Clan, being used for work, food and their hide.
Pren returned from his thoughts with a chuckle, pushing himself and heading back to the village. Holding his axe in both hands, swinging it back and forth slightly in practice..
