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A Stranger
Part 2: All Out Of Luck
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Another few weeks passed by for the
humble village, and the supposed theft incident became no more than a distant
memory. It was peaceful and serene, the villagers worked as they always did,
and the children played as normal. The prosperity of the last month had yet to
slow, and the future never looked brighter. However, there was a silent tension
that masked the village like a thin film of plastic.
There was no reason to be concerned,
but many villagers found themselves worried. Everything was too perfect, work
flowed too smoothly. The worst event to occur was the small fight in front of
the merchant. The inner pessimist in all the villagers shared the same thought.
Something horrible would happen soon to end their prosperity. They were right
to be afraid.
It was late in the night, most of
the residents had sat down for dinner. Which included the Stranger, who was graciously
invited to dine with the old man and his family. A loud ringing echoed through
the village, followed by the gallop of horses. From a hill that overlooked the
village, a brigade of shadowed figures charged into the village and announced
to all who could hear.
"Bring out yer food, bring out
yer valuables," a man on horseback roared. "Surrender everything and
we may spare yer lives!" At the sudden request, a few brave villagers ventured
out from their homes, lit torches and lamps in hand. The rest peeked from their
windows or behind their doors. As the village was illuminated by the sudden
influx of light, the residents identified their uninvited guests.
They were bandits in a huddled mass
of darkness, with swords drawn and flintlocks at their side. Even surrounded by
light the bandits were still mostly obscured in the darkness. The shadows
curved around their faces and bodies. Their eyes appeared like yellow dots in
the blackness, they looked more like demons than men.
"I'll repeat myself this once
since you seem to be the slow types," the man from before continued his
speech. "We will either take yer valuables, or we will take yer
lives!" The bald man towered above the other bandits, and even in the
darkness, a wicked scar could be seen across his face. He wielded a worn
broadsword in his free hand, and half a dozen flintlock pistols were buckled to
his body.
"I apologize," the old
villager emerged from his home aided by a cane. "We are but a humble
village, we possess nothing of value."
"A jester are ye?" The
bandits laughed at the old man's statement, "don't spout yer lies. We know
yer loaded for such a humble little village. I believe you know of a tan
skinned trader and his sticky-fingered son?"
"What about them?" The old
man's widened at the familiar description.
"They spilled many a story of
this humble little village and its curiously deep pockets," the lead
bandit revealed. "We don't know what secrets you sit on, or if you're just
a lucky bunch of peasants. Whatever it may be, you'll tell us one way or
another and deposit all you have of value at our feet." The bandit licked
his lips and raised his sword towards the older man, "now what be your
answer?" The old man stepped back and clutched his cane tight.
"Enough," a woman's voice
echoed from behind. The bandits and the old man turned in surprise as the
Stranger emerged from the old man's home, a lamp in hand.
"And what have ye come to say,
woman?" The bald man mocked her. The Stranger didn't acknowledge the
insult, instead, she shined her lamp on the bandits. Without the aid of the
shadows, the once terrible figures that loomed over the village were exposed in
all their pathetic glory.
While the bandits had acted big,
their appearance took the air out of most of his threats. They were little more
than skin and bone, their ribcages visible through their ragged clothing.
Several had bags under their eyes, and a few weren't even armed. The dark
huddled mass of bandits, with uncertain numbers, was now clearly no more than
ten strong.
"You are starved and
desperate," the Stranger began, "violence...Unnecessary...We can
negotiate." The Stranger made her case and the bandits were taken aback.
"Ye act smart girly," the
scarred bandit commented, "but if you think-"
"Wait boss this might be
good," one of the other bandits interrupted, "all we need is the
food." The rest of the group looked at him with widened eyes, yet no one
raised an objection. However, the leader disagreed.
"Ye stupid, ignorant
fool," he snapped. "We are not so desperate as to negotiate with
these backwater peasants. We'll take what we want, end of story!"
"But boss," the man tried
to reason with his leader.
"Shut it," the lead
bandits whipped him with the hilt of his sword. The bandit was knocked from the
back of his horse and landed flat on the ground. A small pool of blood formed
around his head. "Any more objections!" the leader screamed at his
subordinates, to a reply of unanimous silence, "now where were we? Oh yes,
yer valuables or your lives. Take it or leave it."
"Your point has been made,"
the Stranger acknowledged. "If that is your choice...What follows...Your
fault." The Stranger closed her eyes and sighed.
"Is that a threat?" The
bandit's leader asked rhetorically, "here's mine, die!" The bandit
pulled out one of his flintlocks, primed it and pulled the trigger. The bullet
should have pierced right through the Stranger's skull, but that was not the
case. It didn't even leave the gun, it was a misfire. The bandit discarded the
weapon and pulled out another, only to be met with the same malfunction. Then
he tried again, and again, and again until he was down to his last pistol. The
villagers and the other bandits watched in silence at the leader's humiliation.
"Do not pull the trigger
again," the Stranger warned, "you have tested your luck enough."
"Oh, luck?" The bandit
growled, "You must think you're the luckiest bitch in the world, let's see
if it holds up to this!" He pulled the trigger on the final pistol, the
powder within ignited, but again it failed in its intended use. The gun misfired
horribly and exploded in his hand. The bandit screamed in agony and clutched
his mangled hand. The Stranger merely watched on stoically. "Your some
kind of witch," the bandit's leader accused her as he lifted up his sword.
However, as he pulled back to swing, the worn blade snapped off its handle. The
loose blade swiped one of his subordinates and their horse. The animal went
wild and flung the injured rider off.
The other bandits fought to control
their horse as the other went wild. A few even tried to fire their flintlocks
at the Stranger but met the same results as their leader. They began to shout,
"Witch, she's a witch," as they scrambled. The wild horse ran off
into this distance. The dismounted bandits were trampled by the panicked
horses. In a collective mass, the rest of the bandits retreated into the
wilderness. Thus, the village was left silent, as the residents stared in awe.
"They will not survive the
night," the Stranger broke the silence. "Too little
food...Scattered...Disorganized...Demoralized." She turned and walked back
to the old man's house and sat down at the dinner table.
"How did you do that?" The
old man ran up to the Stranger.
"Lucky," the Stranger
replied. "They were starved...Had bad weapons...that's why they hid in
shadows...Just lucky for me...Failure was all at once." The Stranger
resumed her dinner, as though the bandit attack never occurred. The old man
could only stare at her, while the whole village remained in silent shock.
~~~~
Hope you enjoyed this part, things are picking up.I don't have any serious concerns with this part, mostly because this one went through some sizable revisions. The original version involved generic monsters instead of bandits, but monsters didn't really serve a purpose in the grander story. Instead I used some wordplay and imagery to evoke a monstrous image for the bandits.
The next part will jump ahead a little, we've got a little more action and some worldbuilding in the near future.
Until next time, Read, Comment and Enjoy.
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