06-10-2014, 11:34 PM
Ambrose nodded to the monk, grim determination settling over his features. He followed Finola's pointing spear, finding the trail fairly easily. Once again they set off. The path was newly worn into the side of the mountain. Feet had been passing over it for a while, but only just enough for it to be noticable. The sword-for-hire followed it further, and was not surprised to find that the trees were gone.
They'd been following the trail of the bandits for two days. They'd been gaining rapidly, and were now, he judged, less than an hour behind them.
Problem was, in the mountains between Sacae, Etruria, and Lycia, if you weren't on a well-traveled road, ten minutes could be all you needed to lose a pursuer. They were running out of time.
They'd been following the trail of the bandits for two days. They'd been gaining rapidly, and were now, he judged, less than an hour behind them.
Problem was, in the mountains between Sacae, Etruria, and Lycia, if you weren't on a well-traveled road, ten minutes could be all you needed to lose a pursuer. They were running out of time.
Thank you Destin, for the awesome mug of Ambrose.