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(Here we go! That took less time than I expected XD)
The villagers hadn't expected an attack in late summer. Normally, when food was plentiful and the nights were warm, they were left alone. But relaxing had been their biggest mistake. Not fifteen minutes after the watchmen were killed, the village was in chaos, swarmed by grinning strangers who looted or destroyed everything in their path. Most of their victims were quickly dead. A few managed to escape, selfishly running into the darkness alone. The rest were rounded up by the attackers and held at knife-and-club-point, quickly herded out of their ransacked homes and into the village square. As the moon sank and the sky began to turn grey with the dawn, they were made to sit and wait, guarded by armed men and women, until the bandits had sorted the loot amongst themselves. Only then would their fate be decided.
(How's that work? Good intro?)
Bandits Don't Cry (gritty dystopian fantasy rp with a dash of comedy-O/O-Closed, stalkers welcome)
(That's good!)
Taran sat scowling, surrounded by bandits, and others of the village. She had many reasons to believe that the villagers were idiots, but this was ridiculous. They had thought that they were safe. She snorted. Safe! As if having lots of food and supplies made them less of a target. Idiots, didn't they realize this made them more so of a target? Apparently not. She sighed and eyed the people around her with mild distaste. The badits would probably be better company, if she had any desire to join them. She didn't though, luckily. She had spent enough time around them when she was a fighter that she wasn't incredibly eager to do so again.
"What do we do?" She heard someone ask, and she sighed.
She turned to the person who had spoken, glancing around to make sure none of the bandits were listening, and whispered, "We escape. What else?"
"How?" The person, a plump woman with large cheeks, stared at Taran in annoyance and arrogance. "How are we supposed to escape?"
Other villagers were listening now, too.
Taran rolled her eyes. "The people watching us are getting sleepy. Can't you tell? They will be distracted. If some of us keep them distracted, the others can run. Obviously."
"But none of us want to distract them," another woman whined. "We could get caught!"
"Better than being taken by the bandits," Taran whisper-yelled. "Unless you prefer death or torture to being free."
The other vilaggers confered among themselves before nodding. They turned back to her. "Only if you distract them."
She scowled. "Fine. You'll have to run away one at a time, so that it isn't suspiscious."
(Ah thanks! Yours is nice too! ^^)
The bandits guarding them glanced over suspiciously as the villagers whispered, but it was true—they did seem to be worn out from the attack. They yawned, leaning against their weapons and gazing into the distance tiredly, barely paying any attention to their captives at all.
(I was in a hurry, so it sucks XD)
The villagers slowly started to trickle away. None of the bandits raised the alarm, so the villagers gained confidence. They started to go more often, and more people went. Taran cringed.
And then disaster struck. A woman whispered to her friend as they left, too close to a bandit, too loudly. "Isn't it a good thing they're so dumb we can get away?"
(lol no it's fine!)
The bandit snapped to attention, his head whipping around as he searched for the person who'd alerted him. "Hey," he growled, straightening to his full height and hefting his hand-made spear. "Who said that? What's goin' on here?"
Taran stiffened. Sending the woman a glare as they scampered off, she stood. "It's nothing to worry about," she said calmly.
"Nothin' to worry about, huh?.…." The bandit stepped towards her, leering. "Why don't you leave the worryin' to me, lady?" He paused as he noticed the distinctly smaller huddle of prisoners, squinted, and nudged one of the other guards. "Hey…didn't there used to be more of 'em a second ago?"
The other guard, a huge woman with a pinched, angry face, turned around and followed his gaze. "Meh," she grunted, shrugging. "Dunno." Glancing back at Taran, she narrowed her eyes even more than they already were. "Stay in line," she rumbled threateningly. "Boss'll be here soon enough, so sit still."
"And what if I don't want to?" There were fewer than a dozen villagers left being guarded. "I don't like sitting still and waiting. It's boring."
"Oh, we could make this much more interesting for everyone if we wanted to," the first guard retorted. "But that don't mean it would be fun. Not for you or your friends here, no. Just be patient, and maybe the chief will let you live when he does get here, eh?" He grinned spitefully. "I'd prefer he doesn't, though. I don't think I'd really like havin' you around."
"And I don't think I like being trapped," Taran retorted. She moved to walk past him. "So I guess I can leave because of that, right?" She knew she was being dumb, but she was annoyed. It was the villagers' fault that she had gotten caught in the first place! She didn't have to help them.
"Hey, hey!" The guards quickly blocked her path. "Not so fast. You can't just skip on outta here, missy. Either the chief decides your useful and lets you join us, or he doesn't and you die. It ain't your choice, see?" The bandit seemed frustrated, as if he wasn't used to villagers that weren't automatically terrified of him.
(Today's one of the days I work, by the way, but I should be back home by noon ^^)
(Alright, cool!)
"It should be, though," she said, not stopping. "What gives you the right to kidnap us, and then say that I can't go anywhere?"
"Well–that's–um—" The bandit shook his head to clear it. "Look, I feel like you're missing the point here. We're bandits! We eat villagers like you for breakfast! You don't get to argue with us, got it!?" He braced his spear and leveled it at Taran, making one last effort to regain control of the situation.
"You aren't cannibals," she said calmly. "I think I would know." She gripped the edge of the spear and wrenched it from his hands, spinning around and bashing him in the temple with the butt end of the spear, before gripping it tight in her metal left hand, squeezing it until it shattered from the pure force.
The bandit went down with a glug and stayed down, stunned. His companion gave a surprised yelp and lurched backwards, staring at the splintered spear. "What th–" It took her minute to gather her wits, but once she did, she quickly waved to another small group of bandits nearby. "Hey! This one's makin' trouble! Come help!" The bandits jumped and started to hurry over, looking angry that their pillaging had been interrupted.
Taran grinned. Fighting had made her blood burst with excitement. She had almost forgotten what it had felt like. She backed away from the mass of the bandits, looking as if she was going to retreat. Lesson one of fighting a lot of people: act like you were afraid.
(oops I gotta go to bed, sorry I was slow)
The bandits took the bait, grinning confidently as they advanced. "You're gonna regret messing with us, lady," one sneered, hefting a nasty-looking scrap metal bludgeon. "What are you gonna do against all of us, huh?"
(It's fine!)
"I don't know," Taran said, stopping near the burned-out remains of what once was the blacksmith stall. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a heavy-looking hammer, and bent down, picking it up, arms straining, before her metal arm clicked and whirred, bearing the weight. She smirked at the bandit who had spoken, and raised the hammer, flinging it in their direction.
He squawked in panic and dove to the side, bowling over his companions in an attempt to avoid the projectile. The resulting scramble caused one bandit to trip over some rubble and fall into a ruined house, which promptly collapsed on him and one of his fellows. A large plume of ash and still-warm embers rose up, making the others cough and curse.
"Come on, you useless idiots!" one yelled. He seemed to be a more important bandit–or at least, he seemed to think he was more important. "Just charge her all at once! What are you, a bunch of babies?" His shouts urged the remaining group forward–six in all–each looking angry now, albeit less confident.
Taran laughed. Her voice, like tinkling bells, echoed through the village, bouncing off of the walls of the houses, growing in volume. While the dust was still in the air, she took the opportunity to look around for a better weapon, and, in the corner, saw a metal staff, like the blacksmith hadn't finished putting the head of the spear on when the bandits came. She moved over to it, picking it up, and moved confidently toward the approaching bandits.
"How can you fight death?" She sneered. "A goddess of death?"
She had chosen her fighter's name, Kali, with care. When she had been a fighter, she had wanted to remain anonymous, but with a name to be feared. She had stumbled upon an old book of myths, in a library, and had chosen the name Kali, the goddess of death and destruction.
The bandits halted uncertainly. "The goddess of….what?" The more important bandit squinted at her. "You sayin' we're supposed to believe you're some kinda goddess? Hah! Prove it, then!" He waved for the others to follow him and charged directly at Taran, yelling with great bravado.
"If you say so," she said indifferently, and then burst into motion. She was a whirlwind of movement, moving in a kind of deadly dance, tripping the bandits with one end of her staff and smacking them in the head with it as they went down. She jabbed one end of the metal piece into a bandits stomach, hard, and he doubled over, choking. She didn't stop moving for an instant, slashing and kicking and hitting. A sword came down at her head, and she caught it with her metal arm, gripping his wrist and flinging him into another bandit.
It took the bandits several moments to grasp the situation, and by that time they were thoroughly beaten. Those that were still standing backed away in terror, holding up their hands in surrender. The one who'd been acting important before was now on the ground, weakly scrabbling backwards. "H-hold on! Please don't kill us! Who….who are you!?"
(I gtg for a walk, brb!)
(Bye!)
"I haven't killed anyone yet," Taran said, rolling her eyes. She stopped, barely panting, and looked at them in amusement, hands on her hips. She had forgotten what it was like to fight, and to win. "I have no plans to start now." She smiled at them, teeth bared like a wolf. "I told you. I'm the goddess of death."
The bandit babbled in fright. He and the others were clearly about to run for the hills—but then a new voice cut through the air from the shadows nearby.
"What's going on, Muddybones?"
The voice was deep and rough, and it made the bandits flinch. The important one, presumably Muddybones, scrambled to his feet and turned to face the person who'd spoken, his eyes wide. "Boss! Uh…..when did you get here?"
A huge shape loomed from the shadows, walking slowly into view. It was a man, easily six feet tall and weathered as an old tree. His face was horribly twisted and pitted by scars, but the brown eyes underneath were clear and sharp. His high rank was clear from his newer, well-fitting clothes, the delicate gold jewelry adorning his ears and neck, and the way he stood with his back straight and his shoulders relaxed. There was a large woodcutter's axe strapped to his back, and it gleamed in the morning light.
He didn't answer Muddybones's question, instead looking over at Taran and considering her expressionlessly. "You're no villager," he observed. "What's your name?"
The new guy made Taran stiffen. The scars, the weapons, the way he held himself… she angled her weapon closer to her body, ready to strike at any minute. This guy was trouble, she knew that much. "What makes you think I'm no villager?" She asked sweetly. "I did live with them, you know. Well, until you blew up the place."
She put her hands on her hips. "I'm not going to give my name out freely to random strangers, especially bandits who tried to take over this place and kill me." Her metal arm, the one holding the staff, clicked and whirred, the sound of machinery sounding. She smiled. It was not a nice smile. It was a promise, of death and destruction. "See if you can guess my name."
The man did not stir. "Well, it sounds to me like you're the goddess of death or something. I'm not too fluent in my mythologies, unfortunately, so I'll have to decline your game of twenty questions today." He put his hands in his pockets, making no move to attack. "We don't have to be enemies, kid. My name's Boar-back, and I'm the leader of this tribe. I'm just curious to know who you are and how you came to be such a good fighter, that's all."
(Gentle bump, no pressure or anything)
(Sorry, my dad took electronics away for the weekend.)
Taran mock sighed. "Pity. I so love guessing games. I could have tried to guess your name." She sniffed. "Couldn't you get a better name than that?" She twirled her staff around in a circle, resting her hand on her hip. "I go by Kali."