The Hangman

Kal hoisted the body up the branch of the dying tree. With the increase of bandit raids near his village of Barrington, everyone was trying everything to deter the attacks. The line of rotting corpses that flanked the road was supposed to be a grim reminder that something was being done about the frequent bandit attacks and the consequences of such a lifestyle.

Having hung up the last body, Kal put his brown hood back on to hide his face. Nowadays, his birth would be considered a miracle, but the half-orc had found his life to be a curse of social outcasting and discrimination. Most of this was driven by his odd appearance, including pale green skin, jagged teeth, and pure blue eyes.

He headed back to his adoptive father, Harrison the Hangman, who was waiting on his horse-driven wagon. The old man's hair had been reclining whilst his belly grew and his body weakened. The simple fact was that he wasn't up to the physical nature of his work anymore, unlike his half-orc son.

"Well, that's that done." Harrison said. "Now on to Southmarch."

Kal took his seat next to his father. "You sure it's safe?"

"Surely you're not afraid of those gobshite little cunts? Not with the way you fight."

"I don't like to underestimate my opponents."

"We'll be fine. Those little shits only get up to mischief during the night."

As they moved forward, Kal looked to the treeline. Despite what his father had said, Kal couldn't help but be concerned by the reports of goblin raids. The creatures were growing bolder and bolder. Even with his muscular build and knowledge of the ways of a physical adept, he doubted he could hold out long against a raiding party.

"Anyway, at least the goblin bodies will be easier to hang up."

Harrison awaited his son's reply, but he didn't receive one.

"Hmph... Guess it'll be another quiet trip."