"A little girl alone in the woods ain't dis our lucky day lads!" One of the bandits said after he finished sneezing.
He wore a stained leather cap over his oily brown hair. A second bandit chuckled, showing crooked teeth and a face smudged with dirt as if the man was allergic to bathing.
"She pretty," the second goon said while licking his chapped lips.
"Gross!" Jeze said and rolled her eyes. Did all brigands and bandits use the same lines? She wondered.
"Don't worry, sweetie. You will find that we are an acquired taste," the third bandit said.
He was bigger than the others and relatively cleaner looking. He had a few less smudges of dirt on his square-jawed face.
"Now be a good little lass and put down that ax before someone gets hurt," the first bandit in the leather cap said.
Jeze eyed his protective headgear and pegged him to be a conscripted soldier and possibly a deserter. Raynor had mentioned once that after the war with the Ironfist Kingdom, many conscripted soldiers deserted the front lines and turned to banditry in the countryside. That matched the man as she noticed some streaks of gray on his scruffy beard. He looked old enough to have been in that short border dispute that was over a decade ago. Out of the three, she wondered if he was the biggest threat based on the way he held his blade.
The other two were younger and just as ugly, carried themselves with the false bravado of ones that were never challenged. These were bullies and cowards that preyed upon the weak. Jeze rose to her feet and cracked her neck and shoulders, which were sore from sleeping on the cold, hard earth.
"You can't be serious? You wish to dance with us?" The crooked tooth bandit asked. Jeze saw doubt creep into his bloodshot eyes.
She glanced at the three before her. Behind her was the creek, and trees were all around. Jeze saw no ranged weapons, only long knives. They also didn't wear much in the way of armor, but then again, neither did she. Mental note, I need to buy a decent set of armor, Jeze told herself. All in all, she assessed these three to be less of a threat than the Howlers. She tapped her Earth bracelet, completed a glyph with her left hand, and Summoned a pile of dirt behind them.
"What's this? A witch?" The large one asked and took a step back.
"Yer Runes won't work on me," Gap-tooth growled, and he pulled out a wooden charm that he hung around his neck.
"Hit him first! I want to see the look on his face!" Ziplocke squeaked with sadistic delight from the shadows.
The three bandits spun around and searched for the Goblin. Jeze nodded and obliged. She Shaped dirt into Stone and Controlled it to strike a Gap-tooth square in the chest. She didn't put a lot of Will behind her spell, just enough to cause the man to crumple over in pain with a fractured rib.
Goon number three, the large one, roared and rushed forward with a wild slash of his blade. He clearly wanted to overpower Jeze, and he easily could have if she stayed in one spot. The teenage Initiate deftly sidestepped the clumsy attack and struck the bandit on the side of his temple with the back of her ax. The large man collapsed in a heap.
The thug in the cap assessed how quickly Jeze dispatched his colleagues and fled. I guess he truly was a deserter, Jeze reflected.
"Cut off their heads. They probably have bounties," Ziplocke suggested.
"What? No way!" Jeze responded.
"Fine, at least loot them of their coin!" Ziplocke squeaked.
With a shudder, Jeze searched their unwashed bodies. She found a handful of coins, not enough for decent gear, but enough for a meal and a warm bed. Jeze confiscated their knives, but the blades were dulled and poorly maintained. She really needed another hand ax.
"What a pathetic group of bandits. Maybe you can follow the coward back to his camp? There should be plenty of coin there for your needs," Ziplocke said.
That was a good plan, Jeze thought. She Summoned and Shaped shadows around her, grabbed her pack and gave chase. The bandit ran through the undergrowth as one that was familiar with the woods. But, he was not one who kept up a daily training regime, and shortly, he slowed down to catch his breath. Sweat dripped down his face as his breathing came in gasps. He looked back and relaxed when he did not detect any signs of pursuit.
Jeze stalked him through the shadows like a wolf, the way Raynor had instructed her. She maintained a safe distance and observed him through the trees.
"For a bandit, he is out of shape," Ziplocke whispered.
The man they chased was leaning against a tree and occasionally looked up to see if he was being followed. He grimaced as he breathed hard. Jeze had to agree with the Goblin and wondered if he would lead them to a camp.
"Do you think there are others?" She wondered.
"Who knows? If they were anything like the two oafs you dispatched, I wouldn't worry," Ziplocke answered.
The bandit they stalked resumed walking with an occasional glance back. After a few moments, he felt safe and walked normally.
"He didn't care about his mates at all," Jeze whispered.
Ziplcoke nodded in agreement and added, "Not going to find much loyalty among thieves."
Jeze began to worry that this man was not very good at his profession. Was it even worth it to trail him? How much loot could they find? Then, another thought occurred to her.
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"Is it wrong to steal from bandits? Shouldn't we return the gold to their rightful owners?" She asked.
"Are you kidding me?" Ziplocke asked with an arched eyebrow.
Jeze shook her head. Why did she ask a demon for moral advice? In either case, she was broke and needed money to get started. Anything they had was better than nothing, and she could figure out a way to deal with the bandits to ensure that they wouldn't harm anyone else. Her main priority was to defeat the Stronghold, save her brother, and save the world. She owed it to Raynor, she vowed, and her heart ached at the memory of her friend.
Another thought occurred to her. Jeze had killed the man with the crossbow. She threw her ax on instinct, the way she practiced, and ended his life so easily. Jeze didn't feel anything for that and was more concerned by the fact that she didn't feel anything. Her grief over Raynor and the impending demonic invasion has taken up most of her emotions. A lot has happened in a short amount of time. Was she losing her humanity?
"Hey! Snap out of it. Our guy is moving," Ziplocke hissed in her ear.
Jeze shook her head and returned to stalking the bandit. She missed Raynor, and she missed her brother. Jeze also came to grips that she does not want to kill needlessly, but the life of an adventurer is one that involves violence. She vowed that she would avoid killing, if possible, except monsters and demons. Or do Howlers have emotions and feelings like Ziplocke? She killed them without a thought, but then again, they attempted to kill her and her family.
"Hey kid, is everything alright?" Ziplocke said and snapped a finger in front of Jeze's face.
The teenage Initiate shook her head and realized that the bandit was out of sight!
"I was just thinking. I'm fine," Jeze answered.
"Listen, I get it. A lot has happened. This is the life you chose. Now, if you can't handle this…" Ziplocke said but was cut off.
"I said I was fine!" Jeze snapped.
After a moment, she added in a calmer voice, "Truthfully, I'm good. This is the life I want."
"Well, if that's the case, then you can't daydream, kid. That could mean your death, and by death, I mean being horribly eaten and mangled," Ziplocke pointed out.
Jeze grinned and moved silently ahead to follow their quarry's tracks. It was not easy, as the bandit knew how to travel through the woods, but she managed. After a few short moments, the two spotted the man in the cap as he didn't move very fast.
"He really does not care about his mates," Jeze observed again.
The bandit moved as one that had no worry in the world. Jeze even heard him faintly whistle.
"Could this be a trap?" She wondered.
Ziplocke tapped his green chin and responded, "Could be, or he is truly an idiot."
Thirty minutes later, they followed the bandit to a seedy roadside tavern that was nestled deep within the woods and connected to a dirt path that could barely be considered a road. The tavern, if it could be called that, was a small wooden cabin that lacked the front wall where Jeze could see stacked barrels of ale inside. Beside the barrels was a stone oven that spewed smoke through a dirt-covered chimney. The tavern had outdoor seating made up of stained wooden benches and tables. A few others were present, and they were men with disreputable appearances with scars, scowls, tattoos, and visible weapons that ranged from spiked clubs to curved knives. Cap man ordered a drink and sat down.
"He's an idiot," Ziplocke stated.
***
Conan scowled at the patrons around him, and they scowled back. He removed his heavy cap to wipe the sweat from his oily brown hair and snorted as he glanced at it. The cap was the only thing he kept from his time in service before he deserted.
"Here ya go. That will be a silver piece," the rotund waitress said as she plopped a tankard of ale that sloshed over the stained table.
"Bloody hell! A silver piece for a drink! Now that is a crime," Conan cried.
"Pay up if you want yer drink. Otherwise, scram!" The waitress snarled.
"Alright, hold your horses. What's the occasion anyways?" Conan asked as he nodded with his head to the other patrons. In his reckoning, this dump was much busier than usual.
"What do you mean? People love my charming personality," the waitress responded as she bit into the coin Conan gave her. She tucked it into her bosom.
"That's rich! But really, why so many people here?" The man asked as he drank his bitter ale and grimaced.
"The Legion's in town. Got Angston up in martial law. Every penny snatcher, cutpurse, beggar, and alley ruffian is either hanging from the gallows or flocking to old Maddie's joint," the waitress responded and walked off.
"What for?" Conan called out but was ignored.
He put his cap back on his head, took another swig from his tankard, and then wiped his mouth on a dirty sleeve. The Legion? In town? That was bad for business, he figured. A group of ruffians sat at his table without asking. He scowled and leaned toward them.
"Do any of you blokes know why the Legion is here?" Conan asked.
The three men were burly and sour-looking.
"What's it worth to ya?" One asked.
"Aww, come on now. Just a simple question. No need to shake up a fellow tradesman," Conan responded.
The three goons glowered and turned to talk to each other. Conan scowled and slapped a silver piece onto the table.
"A free drink, on me, for the first one to answer my query." He said.
The quickest of the three scooped up the coin before his fellows and answered, "Rumor has it that the Wandering Spire is set to appear near Mount Dragon."
Conan's eyes went wide, and he asked, "In the Iron Fist Kingdom?"
"You gonna buy us another drink?" One ruffian asked with a grin that showed missing teeth.
"Crimey! Sog off, you weasels," Conan snapped and returned to his tankard and thoughts.
Is The Spire appearing now? He thought and counted on his fingers the number of years since the last one, but he couldn't recall. That explains a lot, he figured. He slapped his forehead. A young girl alone in the woods? That was not luck for him and his fellows. That was a curse! Conan thought as he recalled the recent encounter that cost him two of his men. He rebuked himself for not seeing the signs. She was well built with a scar on her face and armed. Of course, she was an adventurer! Probably making her way to Mount Dragon. Would she pass through Maddies? Conan glanced around nervously.
"Hey," he whispered to the three ruffians next to him.
They glanced at him from over their mugs. Conan slapped another silverpiece on the table.
"Any sightings of adventurers coming here?" He asked.
"To Maddies?" One of the men said as he quickly scooped up the coin to the grumbling of his colleagues.
"No, to your grandma's place. Of course, here!" Conan snapped.
The ruffian snorted as he pocketed the coin. "Why would they come to this dung hole? They have money enough for a real tavern."
"Watch yer tongue!" Scolded the waitress as she plopped down another round of tankards at a neighboring table.
Conan nervously scanned the encircling trees of the clearing Maddies was in and then relaxed. His bloodshot eyes failed to notice the shadow that slipped under and merged with the darkness under his table. Or the figure that crept up behind him.
A strong, calloused hand latched onto the back of Conan's neck, and the newcomer thudded an ax on the table in front of him. The bandit gave out a startled yelp but froze when he saw a familiar scarred face.