Ritter and the Bandits



Maybe the bandits thought he was dead. That was the only explanation Ritter could dream up as his vision swam from the three-on-one attack that left his head pounding and his nose bloody.

He got up slowly as the world spun around him. He blinked and spotted movement through the trees.

He saw the three bandits in a clearing an arrow shot away. They were standing over a body. Ritter blinked again. It looked like Ace.

Yes, his ringing brain remined him, Crow and Ace had also been with him when the bandit meeting had gone sideways.




Ace wasn't moving. Shit. They killed the kid. And it was only his first adventure.

Suddenly, a bandit fell, an arrow magically appearing in her left eye. Another cried out and fell, writhing on the ground, an arrow in his guts. It would take him a long time to die.

Another figure emerged from the woods, his quiver empty, his longsword drawn.

Crow!

"Back off or I'll finish him," the last bandit said, his sword poised above Ace's chest. It was that bastard Salazar.

Salazar. Why they had ever listened to him was a mystery. Maybe the lust for adventure had gotten in the way. Robbing a rich man's caravan to give the coins to the poor had sounded good at the time.

Only too late did the adventurers learn that the bandits were "the poor."

When the bandits had turned on them, Ace had gotten in a few licks, but he was new. Sensing the kid's peril, Crow and Ritter had jumped in front, swirling and snarling. Eventually, Ritter was alone, fighting all three.

Ace had vanished. Where was Crow? Then the lights had gone out.

Now, Ritter was careening from tree to tree like a drunkard, his addled brain barely keeping him upright. His only thought was to make some new holes in the bastard Salazar.

"Run now, and I'll let you live," Crow said to the bandit.

Salazar's greasy laugh turned to a cry of dismay as Ritter roared out of the tree line, his bloody face and scarred helm making him look more like a nightmare monster than a chewed-up fighting man.

"No, stay put you dog," Ritter roared, raising his sword.




Salazar's eyes flicked to both men. How had they lived through the battle? Lived and come back for more?

The calculation was clear. Salazar turned and ran.

Ritter tried to chase him, but the world swam again, and he fell.

"Let him go, mate," Crow called out. "Our work is done." Crow was kneeling over Ace, pouring some liquid down his throat. The kid sputtered and sat up, smiling through bloody teeth.

"That was fun," Ace said evenly. "I'm hungry."




///

Images by Chrysander Mandragora (Instagram @mandragora_media).

For more, visit Alliance Atlanta LARP. 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Heroes and the Jabberwock

Image
  For a long time it was assumed that the fearsome jabberwock was at last slain by a single hero. One can blame the talented - and slightly bonkers (all the best ones are) - writer Lewis Carroll. In truth, there were two heroes with vorpal blades that sealed the creature's fate. None today remember their names or stations, though some of the ancient scrolls hint that one was a ferocious knight traveling the land and helping the downtrodden - his penance for some past sin. The other was called "a pox-scarred bard whose voice was the only beauty about him." Each hero took a tooth, not the entire monstrous head, from the jabberwock's steaming mouth as a keepsake. It was said that it took a team of mules to haul the prizes home. But, since all we have is our esteemed Mr. Carrol's poem, we must pretend to change "He" to "They." Then it reads right. Jabberwocky BY LEWIS CARROLL ’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe: ...
Read more

Secrets of the Old Forest

Image
  The guide turned back to Ritter and said, "We are entering the oldest part of the forest. Few come this way, and many of those who do are not seen again." It looked like a normal forest to Ritter, but he drew his sword out of caution. "Nay, good Sir," the guide said. "Your sword cannot protect you from the powers that inhabit this place." The old guide threw his cloak around his bony shoulders and moved cautiously down the trail. Ritter followed, his sword still unsheathed. They walked silently, slowly for a few minutes, and the air grew warmer, more oppressive. It was like the forest was watching them, and the gaze of the trees was pressing in on them. The guide stepped lightly to the left to avoid a small mushroom on the trail's right edge, and Ritter copied him. As he did, Ritter's sword lightly grazed the top of the mushroom. He said nothing, and continued following the old man. Moments later, the trail turned to bypass a huge tree, behi...
Read more

Queen of Wands

Image
  Ulrich sat in the Seeing Lady's wagon as she lit an oil lamp. The wagon was more like a small house, in truth. It was just big enough for two curtained rooms. The main room was her public space, it seemed, with silken hangings, a folding table, lamps, and too many pillows. When he glimpsed through a gap in the linen curtain, he could see her sleeping cot and two fluffy cats: one asleep and one staring at him without blinking. "Please to be comfortable," the Seeing Lady said, pointing to a three-legged stool topped by a white pillow with a swan embroidered in red. It was also covered in cat hair. The Seeing Lady wore an elaborate, silk and linen dress and head scarf favored by ladies in eastern Salvania. Her fingernails were painted bright red to match her lips. Her eyelids were painted green. She fell into that indeterminate age somewhere between too young and too old. It seemed like eastern ladies went to a lot of trouble painting themselves each day. They sho...
Read more