[Flashback] Death Round the Wagons (Solo)

[Tessa Poe]

Time Stamp - 22nd of Spring 508 AV - Late Afternoon Location - On the South Karbin Road Tessa was perched on the back of the rear wagon, legs idly swinging to and fro as she tried to ignore the achey feeling that seemed to be just about everywhere. If she didn't know better she'd have been sure her Da was trying to kill her with all the practice he'd been making her do recently. To match her aching muscles she had a collection of wicked bruises, some already fading to a mottled yellow, others a fresh and shiny purple. She winced as the wagon jolted over a particularly large rut, throwing her against the wagon's bracing pole and sending a fresh rush of pain down her arm. She could only hope that her Da would be merciful and call off today's training session, she didn't think she could even lift her sword at the moment, let alone swing it. She was reasonably sure that there'd not be all that much longer 'til Mr Jones called a halt for the day, unless he wanted to push on past dark by lantern light. They'd been making pretty good time so far though, and she knew that he never liked to push the animals too hard, they got tired same as the rest of them did in the end. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, trying to find a position that didn't leave her muscles trembling before giving the task up as impossible. What she needed was something to distract herself from it all, something to keep her mind occupied. She reached back, her hand groping blindly 'til it found the hard edge of her Ma's flute case and took hold of it, dragging it back into the late afternoon sun. She flipped the clasp and slowly put the instrument together, handling it as gently as she would a child, not wanting to put even the slightest mark on its brilliantly shined surfaces. That was impossible of course, every time she touched it she left a little greasy print from her finger tips behind, but she knew she could buff those away later. She twisted the last piece into place and ran her fingers over the keys out of habit, the soft clicking noise they made always so comforting for some reason, each one following the one before in a perfect rhythm. She smiled as she brought the flute to her lips, blowing softly to coax the first note from it, a pure C# with none of the outraged squawking that was still her usual way of starting off. She really had to practice more often, even if finding the time these days was more than a little difficult. She seemed to be doing alright so far at least, the notes trilled from the flute, a slow movement up the scale as she fixed the position of her fingers for each note in her mind before trying to play it. She was determined to get through it without making a single mistake this time so it really didn't matter how long that took. She finished the first octave and started on the second, the notes' pitch rising each time, coaxed forth with her soft breaths. She smiled again as she started down the scale once more, fingers clicking the keys, barely audible over the notes, the turning wagon wheels beneath her and the shifting cargo behind her. She could still hear it though, maybe just because she knew the sound was there to be heard. Her eyes drifted shut as she left the scale behind, a low lilting tune starting up in its place. It was her Ma’s favourite, one of the few she could play by heart and did so at every opportunity, the aches of her body fading away as she lost herself in the music for a time… …and that’s when the first shouts went up. “Riders coming! Fast!” She recognised Gregir’s voice as she snapped out of the almost trance like state she’d been in, her head whipping from side to side, aching muscles still forgotten as she tried to pick out what had gotten Gregir so worked up. “Get in the wagon and stay there Poppet!” She heard her Da’s voice call from up ahead as the wagon’s ground to a halt, the guards ranging themselves out ready to meet the riders. The sounds of bows being strung, jingling armour and protesting animals replaced the familiar, comfortable ones of the caravan on the move, surprising in how fast it had all happened. She sat frozen for a moment, not sure what to do as she spied the first of the riders approaching… they really were moving quickly, and that probably meant they weren’t friendly. As if to confirm that an arrow tore through the canvas covering of the wagon beside her and she squeaked and half fell half leapt into the relative safety afforded by the crates stacked back there. Her breath was coming in fast little panicked gasps, she wanted to know what was going on, where was her Ma? Was she safe? Who were the riders out there? Her shaking hand found the hilt of her sword lying where she'd left it amongst the crates and she clutched it tightly, willing herself to be still again. It didn’t seem to be quite working as she strained to hear what was going out there. Mr Jones was shouting orders over the noise of the approaching Hoof beats that seemed to be coming in a vast rush, just how many of them were there out there? She gulped a little sob down, shivering at the thought of a vast horde of men coming down on the little caravan… and despite part of her raging at herself, telling her this wasn’t the first time, she couldn’t keep that fear at bay. There were too many of them out there, she knew that, she could hear that… they were all going to die out here on the road.

[Tessa Poe]

She could hear the almost musical twang of bowstrings just beyond the canvas cover of the wagon and further off in the distance there was the scream of a horse falling. It seemed the fight back had already begun. Maybe they stood a chance after all? She knew her Ma was a decent shot, and given that she knew exactly where she’d be, crouched on the driver’s seat of her wagon and taking aim at the oncoming riders. Da and Gregir were decent fighters too, and Mr Jones had taken on a pair of fresh guards when they’d set out from Syliras. Her breathing was starting to slow again, coming more easily as she started to actually take stock of their situation rather than just panic. This really wasn’t the first time bandits had tried for the caravan, and they’d fought them off every time before this. All she had to do was sit in here quietly and wait for it to be over… she could help Mother Treville see to any of injuries afterwards, that is if there were any. She really hoped there wouldn’t be… maybe the bandits would get scared off by the fact that the caravan was ready and willing to defend itself? By the sounds of it though that wasn’t happening, the drumming of hoof beats was growing louder and louder as the bandits got closer, and there was a whistling ripping sound followed by a loud thunk as another arrow tore through the canvas and slammed into a crate near her, the head burying itself into the wood as the shaft spent the vibrations from the impact. She squeaked nervously, dropping flat to the floor of the wagon and curling into a ball with her eyes tightly closed, hoping that she was low enough to take cover behind the wagon’s wooden half sides at least. That was the second time she’d gotten lucky, that arrow could have skewered her! As she lay there, the sound of her pulse loud in her ears, she realised that the hoof beats slowed, that first mad rush of them now replaced by the ring of metal on metal and the shouts of a fight, it seemed the bandits were here. The wagon rocked as something collided with it, a horse maybe? There was a grunt, for some reason sounding very clear in the midst of the rest of the chaos, and then a thud. If it had been a horse that slammed into the wagon then its rider was apparently in trouble. But that could just have easily been her Ma or Da, or Gregir, or anyone! She couldn’t just sit here could she? Or rather, cower here, not while everyone was still in danger! She knew how to use a sword now, sort of, she could help! Sort of help anyway. Tessa finally opened her eyes and came to her feet, her sword tightly in her grip as she moved to take hold of the scabbard and draw it, when she realised she was still holding onto her Ma’s flute. She glanced around, trying to find somewhere safe to store it, to stop it from getting damaged when the wagon shook again and a leering voice came oozing down its length. “Well well well, what do we have here? That’s a pretty thing you’ve got there, looks pricey too. Why don’t you just hand it over? That way no-one gets hurt, do they?” There was a man in the wagon. A big one at that. How he’d managed to get in she didn’t know, maybe he’d not fancied the fight and had snuck round? The 'how' probably wasn't all that important though, the 'why' was slightly more pressing. She had no idea what to do, or what to say to him, that is until he took a step forwards, one arm outstretched to grab her or the flute. Whichever one it was didn’t matter, he wasn’t going to lay a finger on her or her Ma’s flute. She slipped the flute through her belt, her now free hand taking hold of the scabbard as she drew her sword with a metallic ring, bringing it up between the two of them and holding it there. The effect was rather spoiled by the fact it was shaking just a little though. “Stay… stay back, I’m… not afraid of you you know.” She managed, hoping the words would help her believe that herself. The man just laughed, quickly drawing his own blade and taking another step forwards, “Have it your way then girlie, more fun for me if you fight back you know, it’s better when I get what I want come the end.” His leering grin hadn’t shifted, though Tessa’s attention was more on the blade he held. It was longer than hers, that wasn’t a good thing was it? Something about the reach he'd have? She was in trouble, and there was no-one to help her now. It was just her and him as he took another step closer, one more and he’d be able to jam that sword of his straight through her. Time seemed to slow, the dark wood of the crates and pale white of the canvas bleeding away into a sort of grey and she snarled and threw herself forwards, the point of her sword leading the way in a sort of clumsy lunge for him as she threw her arm into the blow. She wasn’t going to just stand there and let him take and do what he wanted! There was a flicker of surprise across his face before he laughed again, bringing his sword up easily, putting it between them and letting her blade scrape along it with the soft rasping sound of metal on metal. Her strike flashed wide as he drove his free hand into her stomach, the force of his blow meeting her rushing charge and driving the air from her lungs, silencing the scream of pain as she staggered backwards, all of it still in that strange slow motion. She reeled to one side and collided painfully with one of the larger crates, time flicking back to normal with that bit of luck. Without the crate's support she’d probably have collapsed to the floor, following her sword as it dropped for her suddenly lax grip. “Why do they always choose the hard way huh?” He sighed with mock regret, flexing his fingers before reaching out to grab hold of Tessa’s hair and drag her close to him again. She could smell ale on his breath as she fought to get a breath of her own. Gods it hurt, it really did. “Now girlie, you give me what I want, and then we’ll have a little fun you and me. Better than the alternative, right?” She froze at his words, this couldn’t be happening to her, it just couldn’t… however, the tightening of his grip in her hair and the pain it brought with it was doing a good job to convince her it was. She finally forced in a breath, pain lancing across her stomach as she desperately stamped down at his foot, putting all her weight behind it as it crunched into his. He yelled in pain and staggered backwards, dragging her with him as he almost lost his balance and finally released her hair to catch himself on one of the wagon’s struts. Tessa stepped backwards quickly, relying on her memory to guide her over the cargo behind her and for once she didn’t trip and fall flat on her back. She reached down to scoop up her sword, facing him across the wagon’s length again, matching his glare with her own nervous eyes. All the good humour had gone from his face, now he just looked angry. “Big mistake girlie, I was going to be nice, but now? Now you’re gonna scream before I’m through.” He took a slightly limping step forwards, his blade held across his body and she knew she was in trouble. Still, it was better than the alternative.

[Tessa Poe]

She knew she had a little time to figure out the best way to do this, to deal with the bandit. His foot seemed to be giving him some trouble after she’d stamped on it, and she could use that, right? He’d be slower with the pain of it, he was already favouring the other foot, leading with it, keeping the hurt one away from her. Maybe she’d managed to break something in it? This could work then, she could win! She could… Suddenly he lunged towards her with a half swung chop, the narrow confines of the wagon preventing him from doing more. All traces of his limp had gone, apparently she’d not hurt him as badly as she’d thought. In the face of his sudden, surprising movement it was all she could do to frantically bring her blade up and get it in the way, steel ringing on steel like some great terrible bell as the force of the blow drove her back and off balance. For some reason she couldn't stop thinking about a story her Ma had told her one, about a bell tower that always rang all on its own whenever someone was about to die. She couldn't shake the feeling that this time the bell was ringing for her. Her focus snapped back to the fight as he pulled back from his lunge, the fact that she couldn’t remember the name of the place where the bell tower used to stand nagging at her. For some reason, facing him down as she was, it seemed so important. He came on again, using his blade's longer reach in a high thrust to which she simply had no reply, the tip shining in the dull light through the canvas as it streaked towards her. Again she brought her blade up as he laughed, the shyke was enjoying himself as she pushed outwards, trying to divert the blade’s course as she felt score over her upper arm. Apparently she’d not managed to push it far enough away from her. Pain blossomed in his blade’s wake as he pulled back and a warm, wet feeling started to run down her arm. He was toying with her, taking his time, making her sweat before he finished it. She really didn’t stand a chance. “If you scream for me girlie I’ll make it quick.” He was still smiling as she took another step back from him, one that he matched as he came forwards. She was shaking as she clamped her jaw down, she couldn’t call out, couldn’t scream, if she did that Da and the others would hear, they’d try and come for her and then they might, if they were distracted, they might get… she didn’t want to think about that, she didn’t want to picture her Ma and Da lying there in pools of their own blood. She wouldn’t scream, no matter what he did. “Come on girlie, scream for me.” was all he said as he came on again, he wouldn’t stop until she was dead, she knew that. This time though she didn’t try and parry his lunge, she simply turned on the spot, letting the blade slide on by her to set up the perfect counter, just like her Da had shown her. He’d not be expecting it, it’d all be over and she’d be safe while everyone else dealt with his ‘friends’ outside. Except she’d not got it quite right, fresh pain making itself know over her ribs as she felt steel grind against it bone. She bit down hard on her tongue, she wasn’t going to scream, Gods it hurt but she wasn’t going to scream! The pain didn’t matter, nor did the blood, she was past the point of his sword, inside his reach, he was hers for the taking! That is until he stepped back from her desperate lunge with a sneer, the tip of her sword waving pathetically in front of his chest. For a moment she froze in surprise, she hadn't expected him to be able to do that, to be able to shift his weight and withdraw as quickly as he had done, and then his free hand whipped round to slap her arm out of the way, dragging her blade out his path before it collided with a crate, the shock of the impact distracting her as he thrust forwards. She tried to duck and turn at the last minute and the tip of his blade scored across her stomach, easily slicing through the thin fabric of her tunic and leaving a long, deep gash in its wake. If she hadn’t have moved he’d have skewered her. She staggered backwards, her sword held low in her trembling grip. She could feel blood, her blood, dripping from the cuts he’d left on her. She was exhausted already, they’d barely been at this for more than a couple of chimes and her arm felt like a lead weight. She still wasn’t going to scream though; she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. It seemed he wasn’t going to give her the time to recover as he thrust and jabbed, starting off slowly, letting her parry each one, he was still toying with her. Again and again she warded him off, somehow, but still there were a pair of fresh cuts decorating her before long, one across her forearm, the other dragging over the top of her shoulder as she dropped into a crouch with her blade held over her, his blade passing a bare inch by her ear with the breeze of its passing whispering to her of the end that was coming for her. As he pulled back she tried stand straight again, to prepare herself for whatever he did next when his boot slammed into her stomach, half lifting her from the floor with a horrendous cracking sound as at least one of her ribs gave way, slamming her into the crate behind her with enough force to knock it free against the canvas covering. For a moment all was still, and then there came a ripping sound as her weight and the crate’s pressed down and the world seemed to flash by, spinning before it all came to a halt with a muted thud and yet more pain running across the back of her skull. Her sword skipped free of her grasp, landing somewhere she couldn’t see… all she could see was the sky and the wagon through a haze, the ripped edges of the canvas fluttering in the breeze, his face grinning down at her between them. This was it then, she was going to die. At least it’d stop hurting then, right? She watched as he easily jumped down, his boots landing a few feet from where she’d fallen before he started walking towards her. She couldn't help but notice that they were really very nice boots... scuffed a little here and there but still... very nice boots. Her head lolled to one side, time measured in blinks that seemed to last longer and longer with each one. Those little flashes of darkness didn’t scare her as much as she supposed they normally would have done. Her eyes skipped over the crate, frowning as they passed over the arrow still buried in it. The sky sat overhead, so blue, so very blue… and then she could see her Da, desperately trying to get past two of the bandits, for some reason she could see his face so clearly, and he seemed upset? She wondered dreamily why that would be, it was a good thing it was all going to end, wasn’t it? There’d be no more pain, no more worry, just quiet… and right now she really needed some peace and quiet. She heard a laugh, a grating sound that didn’t have a shred of joy in it as she turned to look at its source, her eyes finding him again. His sword was planted tip down in the ground as he stood over her, grinning down, her Ma's flute lying just behind them. It must've have slipped free when she'd fallen... and once he was done with her he'd take it, wouldn't he? “Should’ve taken the easy way girlie, if you’d done that you might’ve lived through this, too late for that now though. Shame, you’re still a pretty one, we could've had some, fun you and me.” She didn’t know why he was laughing, why he found it all so funny. How could you live like that? Just hurting and taking and hurting some more? It wasn’t right. It just wasn’t right! He was going to hurt her, and then take her Ma's flute... she couldn't let that happen, her Ma would be so upset if it was taken away, it had been her mother's before her. Her vision narrowed, focused, fixed on his sneering little smile as he started to raise his blade, bits of grass clinging to the mud that now coated it. The aches and pains seemed to fade as her hand groped, finding the arrow stuck in the crate and taking hold of it, gripping tightly as she snarled again, her other hand gathering strength before pushing her off the floor and bringing the arrow with her, feeling the shaft bend before she heard it snap. She was up and on her feet, the exhaustion and pain overridden in a tide of adrenaline as she drove the jagged broken edge towards him, not caring where it hit, just wanting to hit him. She'd make him pay for what he'd done, for what he was going to do! She took the time to note the shock on his face and relished it, he knew she was going to hurt him just as he'd hurt her. She could see his arms moving, releasing his sword, trying to stop her, but it was too late. She blinked and there was a splash of something warm in the darkness, something wet, a spray over her arm, across her face and over her chest, it tasted salty on her lips. Her eyelids dragged themselves open and the world came rushing back. She could hear the frantic gagging of someone trying to get their breath and she looked on in horror at the small wooden shaft buried in their throat, the wooden shaft grasped so tightly in her hand that her knuckles showed hints of white through the blood that covered them. His arms were on her shoulders, almost cradling him to her like a lover, his lips working as he gagged again, and again, trying to speak as the blood ran from the ragged wound across his throat. She was sure she could hear every single drop of blood as it fell, both from her and him. She blinked again, not sure if she was trying to clear blood or tears from her eyes as she felt more and more of his weight pressing down on her. Her legs trembled as her ribs started to scream in agony, the pain resurfacing everywhere at once. She didn’t know how long they stood like that in their grim parody of an embrace, it couldn’t have been all that long… moments perhaps, and then her knees buckled and they both collapsed to the ground. His eyes stared down at her, a deep chestnut brown that were filled with panic and surprise… and then, just like that, the light behind them went out and his frantic attempts at breathing stopped. His fresh corpse sagged down on top of her, lying there, pinning her down as the blood leaked from his throat and dripped down onto hers. She struggled, tried to throw him, or rather it clear but she couldn’t move it. Everything hurt to much, all she could do was wiggle weakly beneath it. She was trapped beneath him and with his dead, accusing eyes staring at her and she couldn't look away from them. That was when she finally screamed.

[Templar]

Tessa: Music instrument: Flute: 3 – [Weapon] Short Sword: 5 – Unarmed Combat: 2 - [Weapon] Arrow: 1 Lore: Being attacked by bandits – Taking a life Additional notes: Wow. Just wow…!