Making their way to the wagon, Decam and the rest of the search party are immediately met by the head of the driver. It would seem that Old Man Hiralk doesn't know the meaning of keeping evidence clean. Decam walks over to the head, now dirty and being crawled all over by worms. Still, it's easy to tell from the wound that it was a deadly blow from a sword. No…it's too messy. Someone inexperienced, using a dull blade. Setting the head back down, Decam sighs. This one is definitely gonna be tricky. Rubbing his chin, he tries to consider any news from the past few weeks that would give anything like a hint as to who the hell is responsible for this. Nothing comes to mind.
"Then…we got a few roaming bastards to worry about." Decam theorizes as the rest of the search party looks for hints as to what the hell happened after the driver's death. For a good ten minutes, nothing of worth is found. Then, a bizarre find. A piece of cloth. It doesn't seem like the kind of material used for men's clothing, however. It more matches that of a high class women's dress. So…there's a woman involved now. "Shit, now that's a complication." Considering these guys inexperience, it's unlikely they have the desires or thoughts of competent people. They're likely using her for their desires…which means she's likely still alive. Now, for how much longer will she be still alive? That's the issue. Fuck, this search party has turned into a band of rescuers.
"Everyone, over here!" Decam yells. The group of five surround him as he shows them the piece of clothing. Everyone seems to come to a similar conclusion. With that in mind, the new goal is simple, but no less complicated in execution. Despite these guys inexperience, they'd lucked out in not leaving much behind. So, it's gonna have to be a tedious escapade. "Alright, listen up. We're splitting into two groups. One of two and one of three. You're gonna take your knives and mark every tree you pass so you don't get lost. If you can't find any trace of the girl in 30 minutes, report back here. We don't need to be waking up any problematic beasts when we're so unprepared." Decam explains the plan before making the two groups. Old Man Hiralk and Marcos will be Team 1 and Decam, Neuranca, and Filiess will make up Team 2.
With the teams made, Decam leads his team straight ahead while Team 1 makes their way left. A silence befalls them all as the forest seems to greedily await them. If they were anywhere, it felt like they were in a greedy mouth. Whatever awaits, they all counted on it not being good. Decam keeps himself distracted from his growing nerves by letting his mind fade into memories.
...
"Poor Mikael! Oh King Frostenhart, your son is staring upon my body so lavisciously. I feel like he's gonna rip his cell apart to get to me!" The bitch in front of Mikael coos as she hollers. His father comes to stare upon him.
"Worry not Maistan, my son is merely a maggot. He'll never have the strength to do a thing." With a wicked grin, Mikael's father places his hands on the woman's decently plump breasts. Making a gentle whimper, he squeezes them. His fingers toy with her nipples over her shirt. "You see this, Mikael? This is how you please a woman…not that it'll do you any good stuck in there you filthy trash. The least you can do is see what you're missing out on." With a disgusting cackle, King Frostenhart gropes harder.
"M-my king~." Maistan whimpers.
"Oh Maistan. Let's show him what it means to be loved."
They fucked. They fucked until Maistan was a quivering body on the floor, and even then the King resorted to abusing her tits. Forced to watch, Mikael counted every second. Thousands. Thousands of seconds were wasted on the sight of his father's filthy cock.
Anger and rage weren't strong enough words to describe his hatred.
No, he was a being of fire, kept tempered only by the will to not let this bastard have the satisfaction of winning. So, he watched. He hated it. He waited, praying for the day he could chop that disgusting cock off.
...
"Decam!" He's broken from his memories by the sound of Neuranca's voice. The dark haired man is known for his ability to see almost magically in the dark. His burning yellow eyes can make out almost anything from even pitch black surroundings. As such, a chunk of dress in the shadows is child's play for him. Walking up, Decam grabs the dress.
"Filiess, you're the fastest. Get the others and bring them here. We'll be scouting ahead, just follow the trail." Decam commands. With a nod, Filliess flees back the way they came.
"You're lucky everyone loves you Decam. I don't recall when anyone made you in charge." Neuranca speaks from beside him, a spiteful tone being taken on.
"Consider this an issue for later. If we save the girl, you and the others will be given the credit. This is all just a feeling of necessity on my part." Decam explains, before considering his options for directions. If the dress was torn to be at a north east angle…then, that would be the best bet, surely. "Now, come, let's go save some princess, why don't we?"
"Ahh…you're lucky I love a good damsel." Neuranca states, following close behind as Decam marks the trees. The walk goes on for a few minutes, when both of them notice something…a growling. They stop, listening intently. The growling returns, just a bit quieter. "Decam…what the fuck is that?"
"The growl is guttural. It's probably a striker-bear. Fuck, I thought we were being quiet enough." Biting his lip, Decam grasps his knife tight. "Neuranca, we may be fucked."
"That sounds accurate." Neuranca whispers when the growl turns violent and loud.