Leaving Caelin (Zain, Duma)

[Zain]

Zain's scuffed travelling boots and frayed cloak stirred the dust as he steadily plodded along a back road near the outskirts of Caelin. He'd only left the hold roughly a week or so ago---yet the long days of travelling south out of the territory had seemed like a month, if not more. Not like time was relevant to him---he only felt the rush of the journey, and a beatific smile had graced his face everyday he had woken up. Even if he was sore, (though no worse for wear) from sleeping high in a tree out of paranoia and fear of brigands and bandits that had infested the area. 

By all means, someone who had just recently lost his father would have felt regret and sorrow, but Zain did not. Let the dead rest,  He had thought to himself at the burial. The living carry on without them. Lament won't bring them back. He was still ecstatic, actually, almost to the point of eccentricity. A couple of years ago he'd lost it all---yet now he had the chance to pick up his bow and fulfill his dreams, a chance he could not and would not waste. Despite all of his ambition, he couldn't let his guard down. Bandits scoured this land of inhabitants of their riches and lives, and it would all be for naught if those dastards, those damned, deplorable brigands caught and killed him. Though maybe it was within reach---though the largest and largely cynical side of him (and frankly, the logical side of him if he was honest) whispered it wasn't, maybe he could see Elibe, travel the world in the little, insignificant time he had. And so he held his shoulders high and carried on with long strides, a grin of his face. He banished the doubt and depressing ideas in his mind and continued on as the sun watched from on high.

[Duma]

When did Lycia become such a problem? The swordsman wondered as he wandered down an a seemingly empty road. The swordsman was fresh off his most recent mercenary job and was now making his way southwards. Towards Badon. Where hopefully he could find a new job. The swordsman was never one for politics but he never expected the situation to be quite so bad in Caelin. He had vague knowledge, that the country was on a swift decline into banditry and depravity for about a year now.. but he didn't quite expect it to be this terrible. The few folks that do try to make an honest living within these parts are forced to pay a hefty set of protection fees. Protection from what? The bandits and clans that harass them anyway? Deplorable. And with each small town his former merchant caravan went with they.. seemed to want to push the sale of their.. human laborers unto them. Duma was not happy about that. He was no saint. But, he had his morals. He didn't like slavers or those who forced others into prostitution. Especially, when it involved children. That truly made his blood boil. And it took every ounce of his willpower not to simply lob the 'guardian' of those children head off. And free those children from the life of cruelty. He couldn't do it. The consequences of his actions would be felt upon his employer.. and that.. was unprofessional. 

But, now that he was on his own again, he could return to those town and kill those who extorted the young. And if he did do that he would be targeted by what ever leader these bandits had, and their bounty hunters. He knew.. that nobody within these parts wanted a hero. And those were just the horrors of him dealing with people. The monsters that popped up every now and then seemed like saint's when compared to the people. Now, all he wanted to do was get out of this hell country.

He counted his small blessings. At least the road ahead of him was clear and the weather seemed fair. He knew for certain it was only a matter of time before some group of thugs tried to jump out at him from the trees. He wasn't exactly dressed like a poor Lycian citizen. No, his attire, while faded, patchy, out of season, still screamed Sacean traveler. He had on him several expensive looking swords and useful light armor. And he was alone. Quite literally, he was the perfect target for robbery. Which was both good and bad. Good because it meant that Duma could work off his pent up aggression by killing a bunch of highwaymen. Bad, because it meant he had to always be on guard. 

[Zain]

Zain didn't almost notice the strange man over the softly swaying long grass and the white noise of his own rambling thoughts but did a double-take when he caught sight of him. He berated himself for letting his vigilance waver, but still stopped to scrutinize the man, who had likely walked the path at the last fork in the road. He had long, uncouth, lurid green hair (quite a peculiar colour). He couldn't have been a bandit---they traveled in packs, and his frayed, patched clothing seemed like nothing Zain had ever observed before---not Lycian fashion at all. A traveler, perhaps. He carried himself with the sure, confident strides of a seasoned adventurer, and his multiple blades, short and long glinted in the long gaze of the morning sun.

What particularly vexed Zain was why this man seemed to be here, of all places, and clearly intentionally. Nobody from far off ever came to Caelin, partially because it was a fallen territory ridden with corruption and filled with slavers, prostitutes and the ever-present bandits. Oh well, Zain thought. Better some peculiar adventurer than being jumped by some highwaymen. He'll be off at the next town or at the border, I suppose. For now, Zain managed to tear his eyes away from the curious man and devoted his willpower to both insuring his vigilance didn't lapse again and remaining a respectable distance from the man, stepping out of obvious view and into the treeline. Something about the man seemed---off. He was quite intimidating, and Zain was no mind reader, but he seemed to carry himself with purpose---best not to get in his way or be seen. Zain just wanted out of Caelin---and getting slain by some purposeful, skilled-looking vigilante wasn't going to speed up said process. He sighed, pulled up his cloak and plodded on down the well-worn path. Dwelling on every little detail he found wasn't going to help anything about his journey.

[Duma]

Duma stopped walking momentarily. He just stood there and watched at the thing in the distance. And... there it is. The swordsman mused to himself. What he had caught sight of was the glimmering shine of a weapon hilt. Someone with a weapon was lingering in the wilds along side the path. They must have thought they were pretty well hidden. And if Duma had been a simple bumbling farmer, then the highway man would have remained perfectly hidden. The hidden person was just waiting for whatever unwitting passerby to walk along so they could pounce and rob the victim of all their possessions. And Duma suspected that this one cutthroat wasn't alone. Only a foolish highwayman operates alone. He suspected that the thief's buddies were lingering further down the path. Waiting for the first one to give them the signal. 

How to proceed? He scratched his chin. He made himself look like he hadn't noticed the man hidden in the wilds. He wasn't alone on this path though. The swordsman knew he shared this path with another. He took note of the younger man lingering a few paces behind him. Some sort of villager just based on the clothes he wore. The swordsman dismissed the young man as a person who was not dangerous. A smart theif would have run up behind him ages ago. But, this younger man did not. He simply went on his way further down the path. Towards the danger. Duma sighed softly than mused loud enough to he heard by the hooded fellow, but out of earshot of the thief further ahead. 

"I wouldn't go that way if I were you."

[Zain]

Zain flinched and startled backwards a bit at the sound of the man's voice, then quickly tried to assess the situation. It couldn't have been a threat. A robber would have simply overpowered him ages ago---Zain had already concluded that the man was a traveler, albeit a heavily armed one. Was it a warning? A message for him to back off? No...he'd accommodated Zain on the trail for a few hours now, without needlessly speaking or even acknowledging his presence. Common sense (and paranoia) told him he'd better lookout---though he did admire the mans perception to have noticed bandits on these trails (what else was there to fear?). He was thankful, for had he not received the warning he'd probably have been killed.

Zain whispered a quiet "Thank you." to the warrior , quietly strung his ash hunting bow and ducked about more into the trees, out of immediate view of anyone ahead. His heart pounded with fear and thrill at having encountered some kind of threat. He wasn't very confident, but he was in his element in the treeline, carefully stepping and scanning the trees ahead with the deliberation of a hunter stalking his prey, even though his hands were trembling with adrenaline and fear. He'd dealt with a few highwaymen in his shifts in the village militia, though he was by no means extremely skilled. He'd always treated combat like he'd have a chance of death, and this time was no exception. Before long he came across a few rough-looking men in leather jerkins wielding swords. Waiting for travelers, no doubt. He stowed his growing anxiety and nocked an arrow, trying to silently sneak around and avoid them if possible---he wanted no trouble or conflict, but couldn't afford to lose the meager possessions he had. Zain gulped and fastened his quiver. "Oh, hell. Here goes."

[Duma]

And just like that, his mystery roadside companion was gone. Kid left before I could even say You are welcome. He sighed softly. Something in him wanted to make a grumpy old man comment about the state of the youth these days. Then he remembered he was probably less than ten years older than said youth. The swordsman shook his head lightly and continued to reassess the situation. The kid.. no.. the teen.. ran in that direction. The swordsman's eyes looked off towards the trees the young man decided to hide himself in. While he admired the teenager's intelligence in hiding, the swordsman also cursed it. Suddenly changing course on your path like that, tells the enemy, that they know they've been spotted. And now where was no need for them to be sneaky.

A few of the bandits decided to come out of hiding and confront the swordsman head on. They brandished their weapons, a variable assortment of axes and blades. Most wore simple leather armor. Save for a few who had some mismatched pieces of metal armor. Four stood in front of him. He had no idea how many of them still lingered within the woods. 

"Give us yer stuff!" A particularly burly bandit spoke.

He sighed again and drew his brave blade. The brave blade was a standard brave sword, but made with a special metal alloy. The alloy had anti-magic properties. It was slightly heavier than the usual brave sword. It's sharpness and weight, dealt with limbs, quickly and efficiently. He took a stance and waited for them to make the first move. 

[Zain]

Zain saw the bandits shift and move out into the open, and heard a gruff demand from what seemed to be the leader. Excellent---that meant he hadn't been noticed yet. He had taken a gamble trying to hide, but this seemed like it had paid off. He briefly considers sneaking past, but doesn't---if the man who warned him was getting mugged, he'd at least pay the favor back a little. There was no point in shooting them---yet. They were too close. Zain loosened the boot knife strapped to his shin and sought out the bandit in the far back. He looked totally focused on the mugging ahead, licking his lips. A knife in his shoulder blades will fix that. He shudders---the sensation of killing always horrifies him to some extent. But he steels himself. These bastards had taken so much from this region. This was a cleansing act. He decides he'd deliberately distract them and flee so as to give the swordsman the advantage. An extremely risky move if they caught him, he knew, but this was his best option at present. Zain takes a breath, closes in and lashes out, scissoring open the side of the man's neck, and with some struggle, twists the knife into the bandit's thick neck until the signs of struggle begin to fade. and making no attempt to cover his mouth or muffle the horrible gurgling noise, and without looking back dives into the underbrush.

[Duma]

OOC- As a trainee you would have to have to be really lucky to land a killing blow upon a bandit with a pocket knife. You may need to edit later. But, keep that in mind for the future.
---

Duma kept his gaze upon the three bandits in front of him. He focused on his breathing and kept his stance firm. He also made sure to occasionally look around at his sides and in the area behind the bandits. There was always the possibility that these bandits may have been smart. That they may have had a sniper or hiding behind the men, ready and waiting to take a shot that may end the swordsman's life. There wasn't anything too suspicious at the moment. Just three foolish bandits staring him down. 

These bandits appeared to be lacking in the intelligence department. They kept trying to intimidate the swordsman with a slur of insults and demands. Duma paid no attention towards those threats. He did notice that the bandits were slowly starting to make their way around him. They were slow. But, they had the possibility of overwhelming him if they worked together. If they struck at him at the same time, the swordsman would find it difficult to dodge all three blows. Difficult, but not impossible. Duma's experience and calmness made all the difference in this exchange. Since, he made no motion, no reaction towards these bandits and threats. It caused the most hot headed of them to act rashly. A bandit came after him. Rushed at him with his axe raised high in the air. And Duma simply moved forward to meet the man, and swung his blade. The blade passed through the man's flesh like a hot knife through butter. The bandit now behind him was shouting a slew of curses as his arm was severely severed. It hung to his body by a few strings of red tendon. Enraged at the loss of his arm the bandit grabbed his axe with his good arm and tried to swing at Duma from behind. The swordsman simply spun around, he slashed upwards and caught the axe blade with his own. He pushed downwards slightly, freed his blade, and slashed two more times. 

The bandit fell to the ground. What words the bandit had left were lost in the gurgle of blood that came spewing forth from the large gash in his neck. His torso also sported a large cut. Duma then turned around again to meet the gaze of the remaining two bandits. If these two valued their lives in any way they would run now. 

[Zain]

Out Of Character: Noted, and edited it a little. Thank you very much!

Zain heard a yell and shout and dared to peak out the brush obscuring his vision. He looked on in amazement as the swordsman easily severed the arm of one bandit and slit his throat with a single graceful slice. The two remaining did a double take at the ease at which the swordsman defeated his enemy, then charged with a savage roar. They say a cornered rat will show fight eventually, huh? Zain mused, drawing out his bow, though he doubted the swordsman needed his assistance.

However, he had spotted a few bandits in the back (one now) and figured he might as well try to assist the green haired warrior, who was currently making easy work of the two highwaymen. Zain nocked an arrow, one of his own make. The rusty, soft metal would severely wound and slow down the enemy should it hit the lone brigand. He stopped looking on in awe and quietly drew back the bow, aiming for the center mass of his target, stilling the quivering in his hand. This was a large risk, Zain was aware, as missing would give away his position, and leave him vulnerable to an attack. Though, Zain noted, the bandit was dumbly staring at the battle ahead and had not started running or attacking yet. Easy prey. My thoughts can wait till after the battle. Zain released the string, the arrow whistling through the air towards his target...

[Duma]

The swordsman looked at the two idiots charging at him. He changed his footing slightly and prepared for their anger fueled hits. The two bandits that charged at him brandished two different weapons. A sword and an axe man. Duma knew he held a certain advantage against the man with the axe. But, the swordsman may give him a slight cause for concern. They came at him together, and they thought, they had the upper hand. They swung at him together. Duma decided to end the life of the axe man first. The poor sod had positioned himself towards the swordsman's left. Duma dodged both their hits gracefully and swung his blade. A simple but effective half circle motion. The two bandits did their best to dodge the blades but they couldn't move away fast enough. The top edge of his blade sliced through their flesh. The swordsman received a large gash on the side of his hip. 

Duma made two quick steps towards the axe man, and spun his body around in a circle. His blade came down onto the axe man's neck and came clean down in diagonal. His sword exited out of the man's side and he doubled back in agony. He was still alive, but it wouldn't be for very long. He would bleed out within minutes. 

His gaze turned back towards the swordsman. Who was struggling to keep his sword up with one hand. As he used the other hand to clutch the wound on his chest. The poor bastard looked panic stricken. A terrified and desperate young man. If Duma had to guess he may have been a newcomer towards the whole bandit life. Or perhaps these bandits were so used to people simply leaving their belongings and running, they never really needed to fight. But now, here this bandit was, wounded, his comrades were dead, and he was staring right at their killer. 

"Drop your weapon and surrender or die." Duma spoke clearly towards the other swordsman. 

[Zain]

Zain watched the arrows trajectory, shifting his body and footing so as to make an easy escape if the arrow didn't hit. But he need not worry, as the arrow struck home in the brigands thigh, and he yelped and crashed out of the brush, surprise ruined. He spared a glance up and saw the swordsman wheeling his blade in deadly arcs, carving circles of blood in the air. The blade reflected the sun and he spun around and put down one with a single, precise chop. He then leveled the blade at the other opponent, sparing his life. Unfortunately, he had no time to observe the moment.

The bandit he had shot staggered and yanked the arrow out and lurched towards him, short spear poised to take his life. Zain quickly nocked another shot and aimed as the man dove to the side, barely dodging the arrow. The young boy cursed in his mind, then ducked back under. He had forfeited the upper hand by missing that shot...then he had a spur of the moment idea.

The highwayman quickly smiled as he caught I glimpse of his enemy and lunged towards the bush, taking the young man through the side with his weapon...before realizing, he'd simply left his cloak behind, and moved to a new, advantageous spot. That was his last thought before an arrow in his side finally put him down. Zain dropped down from the shrub, panting. He'd cut that too close, he thought as he looked on at the man who stood, holding his blade before a kneeling enemy.

[Duma]

The enemy swordsman, got on his knees, and threw down his weapon. Duma loomed over the kneeling man. He then put one foot on the now grounded sword. Duma slid the sword behind him, so that the bandit couldn't lunge for it, in a last ditch attempt to kill him. His sword coated with the blood of his enemies. He raised the tip of his blade up towards the kneeling man's chin, and gently tilted it upwards. So that the man's face was visible to him. Duma wanted to memorize this poor sod's face, in case he ever decides to rob him again. 

"Find honest work and live." He spoke. Then he pressed the tip just enough towards the man's neck to that he could feel a pinch. But the blade did not break the skin.

"Because if you don't." Duma glared. 

"I will find you. And rip you to shreds." His serious expression shifted slightly. He slowly morphed his light frown into a semi-twisted grin. He gave off a creepy aura as he did it too. [Daunt] To the enemy swordsman, he got the feeling that this towering green monster, would thoroughly enjoy hunting him down, should he ever choose to betray his words. 

"Do you understand?" Duma asked in a calm clear tone. He pulled the tip of the blade away by a few centimetres, so that the man could speak.

"Y..y..yes sir." The frightened man stammered out.

"Your sword is also mine now. Got it."

"But.." 

Duma leaned forward. He shifted the blade so that it was now horizontally placed along the man's neck. Still just a few centimetres away from certain death.

"What was that?"

"N-..n...NOTHING. IT'S YOURS. TAKE IT!" The man practically screamed. Duma pulled himself away. 

"Good. Now go." 

The man pulled himself up off the ground as fast as he could and made a run for it. He ran past Duma and towards the town that was behind them. Duma sighed softly. Am I really THAT terrifying? He thought to himself. As he turned around and picked up the man's former sword. The iron in this thing is actually decent. Might get a few pieces of gold for it. He then directed his attention towards the wilds that was around him. He spotted some movement earlier, but wasn't sure what it was. Wonder if that kid is alright?
--
OOC- feel free to have Zain run towards Duma. To try and petition his help against the bandit. 

[Zain]

Zain turned around set out to retrieve his arrows from the large corpse before him, carefully yanking them out whilst murmuring and berating himself. Why'd I even THINK that would work? That was like a stunt out of a novel...I cut it way too close.

He breathed a heavy sigh of relief as he finished the deed, tugging the bloody projectiles out of the corpse and searching it, finding a meager amount of gold that we tucked into his satchel. This wasn't his first time killing, and it still shook him up to some degree, but he figured the most respect he could offer to this disgusting brigand would to put his things to use. He wasn't one to refuse a small sum, and the bandit himself wouldn't be ever using it. He took yet another deep breath and decided he should see how the swordsman was getting on. 

He put his battered cloak back on and peering out of the thicket to witness the still living, spared bandit's sword clatter to the ground and watched him flee. The green-haired man stood up, as if thinking about something, watching his opponent scurry off.

Zain staggered out of the woods, covered in minor scrapes and bruises and bowed his head a little bit, and thanking the man profusely, for he surely could not have defeated the remaining bandits on his own. This skilled swordsman had warned him about the threat beforehand and killed most of the attackers, after all...

"Th-thank you very much..."

[Duma]

Duma played with the bandit's former sword for a moment. Testing it's weight and judging it's metal content. He found it worthy and some how added it towards his scabbard. He braced himself momentarily as he heard a someone else approaching him. If it were another bandit, he would have no problem cutting him down. But, Duma put his sword away when he saw it was the same young man as before. The one he had given his warning to. Duma noticed the young man's cuts and scrapes. Well.. his thank you is better late than never.

"You are welcome." He paused. 

"And thank you. I assume you killed another bandit somewhere in the woods." The swordsman peered out into the woods behind the lad. Upon closer inspection, Duma could peice together that this lad. Was a teenager. If he had to guess he was probably 16. Old enough to be considered a man in today's society. But, he knew the struggles of being a teenage boy. He was one a long time ago. Can't really call him a kid. But, even if this teen wasn't exactly a kid, Duma couldn't help his brotherly instinct. Part of him wanted to give him a vulnary for his cuts.

"You've got a name?" Other wise I'm going to start calling you traveler. Duma approached the young man slowly. He still had his sword out. He wasn't being threatening with it, he just had it held. I still need to be cautious. As much as Duma wanted to trust the young man, he couldn't just yet. 

[Zain]

"Y-yeah. My name's Zain..." Zain murmured, answering Duma's query and nervously scuffing his boot on the ground, kicking up the dust. "A-and...two, actually. It was close..." He added, shuddering as he did so. The green-haired man seemed cautious, but not of ill-will towards him. Zain quickly stowed his arrows in the quiver hanging from the back of his hip so as to not appear a threat to the swordsman as he approached.

He couldn't help but peer down at the corpse of the first bandit Duma had slain. A clean slice stained with red ichor stretched from his neck to his torso - it was already beginning to dry, caking the man's stained tunic and weathered facial features; And even though his eyes were glazed over and staring, empty, the awful terror in the two orbs was unmistakable. Zain quickly averted his gaze lest he begin to wonder about who this man might have been while he was alive. This man was a bandit, who he despised, but poverty might have forced him to lead this sort of life - but now Zain would never know.

He turned to face the bladesman in front of him. Attacks like this weren't uncommon, and who knew how many of such enemies the man had killed? Judging by his lethal precision and calm, the warrior has endured many battles. The curious part of him wished to ask him more, but instead he spoke to the man once more, still in the rather shaky, unsure tone as before. "Do you have a name?"