There was the faintest of whirring sounds and Ringo Flinthammer stumbled forward a half-step again, dazed and unable to move as the smooth river rock bounced off his skull. Once again, his unseen attacker had gotten him, leaving him helpless.
Frostmaw roared in frustration, the big bear whipping his head back and forth, snuffling frantically in an attempt to locate the Dark Iron insurgent.
“Stop!” Ringo’s right hand chopped down into his open palm the moment he could think clearly again. He flipped his right hand over and wriggled his fingers in the air, like a spider knocked onto its back. “Wait! Wait!”
The Stormpike Guard had invented Battle Sign to prevent Winterax troll spies from overhearing their battle orders, and it had proved equally useful against Horde scouts after the Winterax had moved on. It had been a long time since Ringo and Beli had served with the guard in Alterac Valley, but Ringo was glad now that he’d used Battle Sign to train all of his pets, in addition to verbal commands.
There was the whirring sound again, but this time, the thrown river stone only dropped Ringo to one knee. With a grunt, he rose again, throwing a flare at some bushes that Ringo thought he saw move suspiciously.
A chuckle behind him let him know he’d guessed wrong, and he jumped forward even as he saw the shadow of a descending blade on the ground below him. There was a satisfying blast of cold air on his bare arms as the Dark Iron agent stepped into the freezing trap Ringo had laid at his feet when he was “incapacitated.”
Ringo turned and eyed his prey, grinning wickedly and pulling out a set of heavy manacles.
“Now, by Norgannon, let’s see what ye know, me fine lad …”
You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.