[Flashback] Working Education

[Rhuryc]

33rd day of Fall, 505 AV
Location: Kabrin Road

Snap.

The crisp, evening air was interrupted by the miscalculated stealth. Both Rhuryc and Tristan froze, their frames silhouetted on the road by the pale light of the moon. One, a tall, towering man of age, his hair and beard grey, the other a young, growing man, blond with a light stubble on his cheek. With a spur of motion the two of them dropped their packs. Metal scraped against leather as Tristan drew forth his blade and brought up his shield, his nephew following suit - albeit, Rhuryc's weapon was a dulled blade. No matter. The both of them set their gaze on the surrounding wilderness, quiet, alert, afraid. Only a clumsy creature caused such a stir under the guise of darkness. What was it that stalked the travelers? Neither spoke, but both adapted to one-another without a moment's hesitant, their backs together as they kept a silent vigil. Crude their relationship might have been, but trust was a necessity when thrust into the unwelcoming hands of violence.

"Down!" Tristan shouted. Rhuryc complied. The boy lowered his body to the ground and, without even considering the action, raised his wooden shield over his head. He felt a solid impact and watched as an arrow head emerged just above his wrist. Close. The blood curdling cries of men seared through the air and Rhuryc found himself rising to his feet, shield held out as he desperately surveyed the woods ahead. There he saw two blackened forms wielding weapons of some kind. Bandits? They moved fast, light, and they were on a direct collision course with Rhuryc. He heard Tristan speak but the words were lost amidst the shouting and fear that plagued the boy's mind. He had to act. The two became clearer as they closed and, just as when Tristan assaulted him, Rhuryc found a sudden rush of power. He could feel the adrenaline in his veins.

The clash of iron on iron rose like a chorus from behind the boy, the sound muffled beneath the pounding of his own heart. The men came in tandem and Rhuryc responded in the only way he knew how. A thud brought satisfying contact to the boy's arm as he felt his shield catch the first man in the chest, his assault interrupted by the sudden contact. Rhuryc stepped forward and rushed ahead, each foot working as he attempted to separate his assailants. What was he doing? His body took over all on its own and he felt his sword arm swing, the dulled iron connecting with something. Flesh? Heavy footsteps from behind forced the boy to turn just in time to thrust his shield between the blade of a sword and his own chest, the resulting brace bringing him back into reality. This was not just one Tristan's tricks. They were fighting for their lives.

A cry escaped Rhuryc's lips and he stepped in again. He abandon his dulled sword and instead wrapped his arm around his assailant's side, the shield brought inward with his body in a shoddy, desperate tackle. Both grunted as they hit the ground and they crumbled into an all-out melee. Rhuryc pressed his shield against his opponents chest and fumbled about with his hand, the momentary impact giving him the distraction he required. He clenched his fingers around a wrist and began to pull, his nails digging into flesh. A scream came from beneath him. The sound was ignored as he focused on his task, his body working to wrestle the sword from the grasp of the bandit. Once he felt his fingers surround a solid object Rhuryc felt a sense of pride. Accomplishment. That was until he felt something hit his flesh.

He had forgotten there were two.

Rhuryc rolled. Pain seared down his back but he kept a hold of his prize. When he came to a stop the boy forced himself to stand, his legs sturdy as if he had done this a thousand times before. At once his vision locked onto the two bandits, one now disarmed. A quick reformation of their tactics and the man Rhuryc downed claimed the dull sword while the other began to circle behind the boy. That was not good. He had to act. His courage gathered, Rhuryc charged straight ahead. The bandits appeared almost surprised. The man with the lesser weapon raised his newfound blade in offense, the dulled edge - although he remained unaware that the blade was useless - brought about to strike. Rhuryc ignored it. The resulting impact was an accustom pain, one that paled in comparison to the thrust that Rhuryc placed inside the bandit's abdomen. What seemed like years passed before the boy's eyes. The two of them shared a moment, a singular exchange where Rhuryc watched the light fade from his assailants eyes. Did he just kill a man?

There was no time to consider the act. The boy whipped around and found his calculation true. His shield took another hit as iron clashed against wood. Now in control, Rhuryc pushed against his own weight and flailed with the wooden board. He sent the man back in his struggle and issued a violent, wild slash over his head. Blood decorated the edge of the sword as it met flesh, a superficial wound, but a wound nonetheless. The bandit's eyes widened and he made to back off, but Rhuryc pressed in. With a single step he brought the blade back up and pounded the weapon into the man's chest like a fist. The body crumpled to the ground and the boy could feel himself gasp for breath, his eyes wide.

Tristan.

Rhuryc snapped around, ignoring the fact that he was now unarmed. All around him there was darkness, silence. The fauna of the wood scared his vision, the trees twisted by the influence of night. He pushed his way back toward the road and began to look about, wild with fright. Their packs were still there, just where they had been discarded. Two men lay dead and next to one he saw what he had hoped not to. Naravane. The family sword. With a wild rush Rhuryc brought himself down next to the blade, the body beside it marred with blood. Wait. He stared at the dead individual with a quizzical expression. That was not Tristan. Confused, Rhuryc flicked his vision to the woods. What had just happened?

[Rhuryc]

This was not the plan. Just as Tristan promised he and his nephew were en route to another bout of training, but neither of them had expected something like this. What was he supposed to do? The boy stood over the body of two unknown dead men, lost in a haze. In the course of what was no more than a minute or two he had taken his first life - lives - and his uncle was nowhere to be seen. And that blasted pain still nagged at his back. No matter. Rhuryc, confused, lowered himself to inspect the fallen blade. Something brushed past his head. A 'thunk' echoed over the road and the boy snapped around to see an arrow lodged into a tree across the way. Luck, he thought, had never been so kind.

Grasping the Bastard Sword, Rhuryc placed his shield in front of his chest and ran forward. He heard scrambling, leaves kicking up and bushes pushed aside. His course was adjusted immediately and the boy found himself on the heels of another man, this one smaller than the others, a bow strung across his back. Rhuryc released something akin to a grow and threw himself forward, his body colliding into the other with a reckless abandon. Both of them hit the forest floor in a tumble. Quickly, the boy abandon his shield and in his rage grabbed the material of the man's tunic. He twisted himself around and brought the sword up, the point set on the bandit's neck as Rhuryc held him steady, his eyes alight with a fiery anger and hatred. What looked back alarmed him. A soft, frightened gaze stared up at Rhuryc, one that belonged to no hardened criminal. The figure whimpered as his lips quivered, tears streaming down red cheeks. What was worse, this was no man.

Rhuryc felt his rage subside. He held in his hands a young woman - No, a girl, one too scared to even beg for her own life. She was clad in some meshing of foresters garments, most of it patched, and a thick cloak concealed some her more feminine features. A myriad of emotions overtook the boy. Hate, fear, satisfaction, regret, and worst of all, he desired nothing more than to cause this girl pain. She tried to kill him. So much as he knew she had killed his uncle. He wanted to complete his strike, he wanted to watch the blade as it sunk into her neck.

Courage, honor. All the skill in the world is useless without them.

The words of his uncle echoed in his mind like thunder. What was he doing? This was no way to conduct himself. He was no arbiter of death. With a heavy motion, Rhuryc released the girl's collar and drew himself up. He kept the sword pointed in her direction but he took it away from her neck, instead keeping it close enough to remain serious.

"The man that was with me. Where is he?" Rhuryc spoke, his light baritone dark and serious. The girl sobbed, but her expression was a strange mixture of fear and relief. She could tell her life had been spared, but the threat lingered. Rhuryc, all the while, glared down at her, his patience thin. "Where is he?!" He almost screamed.

"Th-they t-t-took him!" The girl stuttered as she spoke, her light, young soprano racked with fear. Whether it was the fear or normal affliction Rhuryc could not tell, but the sound of it forced him to lighten his tone. He felt a mesh of both pity and sympathy for the girl.

"Where?" Rhuryc did his best to remove the venom from his voice but any fool could tell he wanted violence. The struggle to keep reign over his emotions was almost too much.

"Camp. To c-c-amp." She tried to calm herself, but the sobbing continued. With one hand she gestured away from the road and Rhuryc lowered his blade in response, his nobler emotions finally winning out. A quiet sigh escaped his lips and he frowned at the crying girl. Why was someone like that with a group of bandits. Perhaps that was why she used the bow. Being so close and personal to a being you killed was an endeavor in itself, one that Rhuryc had yet to even realize. He had no time to dread on it. Tristan was gone, dead by now for all he knew. Grumbling, Rhuryc reached down and grabbed the girl's bow from her back, the string having broken in their scuffle. She recoiled, but when no blow came the girl found it within her ability to open her eyes just in time to see the wooden frame snapped.

"I can't trust you," Rhuryc said as he reclaimed his shield next. "But I'm not going to kill you. There's no money in those packs but there's food and some supplies, use it to get to Syliras. I'm sure you can make your way from there."

There. Honor. Tyveth better damn well be proud.

[Rhuryc]

One shield. One sword. What was he supposed to do with that? How many bandits were left? Would they expect him? Rhuryc's mind found no rest as he did his best to remain silent. The effort was admirable but the results were nowhere near what he desired. He had a difficult time avoiding the brush and the cover of darkness made it even worse. Despite it all, he darted from one tree to the next, taking cover after almost every step. He would press his back up against the bark and bend his knees, lowering himself while he listened for voices, or anything that would give him an idea of position. He knew nothing about travel in the woods, but how far could they be? The girl was left behind as some kind of sentry he imagined.

Snap. Shit.

Rhuryc tensed. His grip tightened around both sword and shield and he threw himself against the back of a tree, hoping that the girth would hide his form. The boy kept his breathing shallow and his senses alert. That was how the bandits had given themselves away, he had no intention of making the same mistake. Instead of charging ahead like a fool he waited, silent, aware. He almost let his guard down before he heard a voice crash through the silence, its hoarse, dark tone enough to give the boy pause.

"Celia? Tha' you, girl? Git your ass out here, bitch. We need'ta move." Celia? Rhuryc blinked. Somehow this was all working out in his favor. Granted, if it had gone any other way the boy imagined he would be dead by now. Carefully, he stuck his head just past his convenient cover and examined the area. There were four forms he could see. Three were up, armed, while the last appeared to be on his back. Tristan. From what Rhuryc could tell the man was alive. He could not fathom why the bandits had not killed him, but he felt his spirits soar. This meant that he still had a chance to save the man, but he was horribly outnumbered. One, the man who he deemed had spoken, was large and carried a shield. The other two had pieces of armor - no wonder they were able to overwhelm his uncle. If he could get a surprise attack off then maybe, just maybe, he'd be able to overwhelm them.

Taking the mistaken identity to his advantage Rhuryc broke his cover. At first he kept his pace slow, methodical, attempting to mimic what he figured someone returning to the camp would do. They were not watching. Rhuryc held his breath as he came to the edge of the clearing. In the center there was a fire pit with signs of a recently extinguished flame and several tents and lean-tos. The brush was swept away in some an attempt to provide flat ground and the three men were busying themselves with the move, as the man put it. There was very little time to consider his actions.

"Stupid bitch, whar the hel-" The large, robust bandit quirked a brow as he turned his head. "Yer not Celia."

Rhuryc charged. His sword slammed against the iron shield of his target and the camp was thrown into a torrent of motion. The two less combative men scrambled for their weapons as Rhuryc engaged the individual he had deemed as "Leader". Devoid of a weapon, leader grinned and pushed forward in a similar fashion to Tristan's tactics. He knocked the boy's blade away and followed the assault up with a swift strike from his fist, that which was met with a shield. Leader cursed and withdrew his hand, but his expression was one of glee, not of pain. Rhuryc felt fear creep up his spine. The boy stepped forward and brought his sword around in a wide sweep just as Leader mimed the motion. The bandit caught Rhuryc's arm and squeezed his wrist before he sent his shield up, the iron colliding against the wood of Rhuryc's own defense. The man struck once, twice, each attack weakening his opponent. The third assault proved too much and Rhuryc felt his shield splinter. Desperate, he brought his leg up and slammed his foot into the man's shin.

Leader backed off. He cursed as he took to a knee and Rhuryc wrestled his arm free. Now was the time. The boy drew his weapon back and fell. Strange. He found himself on the ground, a dull pain throbbing in the back of his head. His vision blurred and went dark just as he saw several boots walk past his him. Right, he thought, there were two other men. In his last few moments of consciousness Rhuryc mused on his existence. If he were to die, at least there would be no pain. He hated pain.

[Rhuryc]

34th Day of Fall, 505 AV
Location: Bronze Woods

Rhuryc grunted as his eyes opened. Had Tristan started the training already? His head throbbed and his back ached. A few bruises had formed already, no doubt, but strangely the boy had no memory of reaching the Falls. Did he get hit that hard? No, something else happened. The boy wracked his brain as he tried to recall the previous nights events. Most of it was a blur. He was on the Kabrin road with Tristan when they heard a noise. A snapping of some kind. Bandits. Bandits?!

Rhuryc jolted upright. He swiveled his head around to find himself in some sort of iron cage, one flanked by torches mounted onto natural, stone walls. Was he in a cave? No, he was in a cage that just so happened to be in a cave. He shifted around inside his prison and found the bars to be too low to stand, but thankfully wide enough that he could stretch out. The cold, hard ground felt terrible and once the full realization of what happened sunk in Rhuryc found his spirits to be decimated. He was hungry, tired, soar, and worst of all, he was a prisoner to bandits. Fear gripped his body as he put his hands on the bars and shook them with all his might, squeezing the iron and trying with all his strength to break free. The metal only rattled in response.

"Calm down, boy." Tristan's rasp spoke from the shadowed corner. Rhuryc whipped his head around and stared into the darkness, his vision just clear enough to make out the soiled coat and clothing of his uncle. So he was alive! Rhuryc felt a wave of relief wash over his entire body and suddenly their predicament did not seem so bad. Well, as bad. They were still locked in cages, and from the looks of it Tristan had his own. This entire area seemed to be one big prison with several low, uncomfortable cells. Both he and his uncle appeared to be the only inhabitants, though. Maybe that was better.

"Where are we? What happened?" Rhuryc's voice found strength, somehow. He managed to keep his fear in check for now.

"A cave." Tristan started, irritation creeping into his voice. "We were ambushed, overwhelmed. Bandits." At least his sarcasm remained in tact.

"Oh. Great. That's uplifting, thanks uncle." Despite their situation, the dire strains that they found themselves, the two managed to bicker. Never mind that death my lay behind every passing moment. "Do you have a plan to get out of here or are you going to just sulk in your corner?" In truth Rhuryc was grateful to the man. He knew just how to keep the boy's mind off of the possible future.

"No. Unless you can break iron with your face we're at the mercy of our delightful hosts." For just a moment Rhruyc considered bashing the bars in with his head.

The time passed without much advent. What was only an hour seemed like days. Rhuryc busied himself with various scenarios of escape. He imagined himself and Tristan overwhelming the guards when they came for them, or maybe they could break the locks of their cells and just slip out without notice. None of that seemed realistic. They would be outnumbered and they had no weapons. Any noise would surely bring unwanted notice and that was assuming they could even manage to free themselves. Tristan was right. Rhuryc hated when the man was right. The luck that sustained the boy through the previous night's combat was miles away now and he was left to his own devices, such devices that were both unaccustomed and incapable of dealing with the particular situation.

He heard the boots before he saw them. The quiet pat of footfalls drew his attention and Rhuryc found himself drawn to ever-growing pair of legs that approached his cage. Those pants looked familiar. With growing dread, the boy turned his eyes up and rested his vision on the face of the girl from last night. So she had come back. Now with the aid of torchlight he was better able to make her out. By no means pretty, the girl was the subject of abuse. Some of which Rhruyc feared was his doing. Nonetheless, she seemed fine considering her state of mind the last night and she held a stoic countenance while her dark green irises focused on the boy with mysterious intent. For some time the two just stared at each other. Although a myriad of thoughts and possibilities crossed his mind, Rhuryc assumed the worst and it was finally he whom broke the silence.

"I guess you're here to take revenge?" He said, defeated. Tristan's leg twitched, but there was no other obvious movement from the man.

Rhuryc's question was answered by the sound of an unhinged lock and the creaking of his cell's door.

[Rhuryc]

"You won't have long." Celia's quiet soprano was like that of an angel. She busied herself with Tristan's cell after she opened the way for Rhuryc. "Once they realize I took the keys they will come." The girl opened the second cage and took a step back, watching as the boy and his uncle adjusted themselves to an upright position. She wore a small smile on her lips like she was pleased with her actions, content with the well being of the two men. "There are two guards up that way." Her words were punctuated by motions as she gestured to the path leading to the left. "Be silent and take their weapons."

Rhuryc was at a loss for words. He stared at the girl for some time before he gave her a simple bow. What else could he do? She had given them their lives back - at least, she had given them a chance. "I, ah. Thank you, Celia."

The girl blinked, obviously confused at the name. Her smile expanded and she returned the bow, pleased. "A life for a life. Maybe I will see you in Syliras."

"That's all in good." Tristan started, interrupting the the two. "Keep your head down, girl, and Rhuryc, don't do anything stupid." He offered their savior a simple nod, a gesture worth a great deal coming from the man, and he started off down the path. Rhuryc followed, but not before one last glance. Such a strange meeting, but the boy had begun to understand some of the lessons his uncle had taught him. Had he killed her in his rage than the two of them would have also died.

There was no time to muse. With Tristan in the lead both he and Rhuryc moved with hasty stealth. There was not much they could do to hide their presence as boots hit the stone ground, but they tried anyway. Both kept to a single side of the cavernous hallway, ducking torches and keeping to flickering shadows. Their trek proved to be fruitful and without incident, however short it might have been. At the end of the path light began to pour in from the outside, that of which revealed the cave entrance - a large opening that could fit three men abreast - and the two guards Celia mentioned. Both seemed lazy in their vigil, staring outward into the wood and conversing in loud, obnoxious tones. Both had swords belted to their waists. Rhuryc glanced over at Tristan and the man motioned to both bandits and silently hit his fist against an open palm.

What a plan.

Rhuryc felt something snap as he slammed his body into the bandit. There was a brief scuffle where the boy grabbed his opponents head and slammed it into into the stone several times. Once he felt the body go limp he made a quick grab for the sheathed blade and drew the sword from its scabbard, the loud ringing of iron enough to alert the rest of the camp. Tristan sighed and followed suit, his own target taken down in a much less violent fashion. The two of them stood together and, now properly armed, made a break away from the cave. Arms pumping, Rhruyc thrust one leg out in front of the other in as wide as strides as he could manage, the adrenaline flowing in the attempted escape. Both he and Tristan flew like bats from hell, the remaining bandits still in a semi state of confusion. Their trek was as strange one. They dove through the camp without any knowledge of the area, passing by a few tents and some supplies scattered around in no real sensible order. Fortunately the area only had a light grouping of trees and it gave them a clear sight of which to retreat.

Was that Tristan's sword? Rhuryc came to a sudden halt, his legs skidding into the ground beneath him. Tristan stopped as well, bemused at the antics of his nephew.

"What are you doing?! Run, boy!" The elder man yelled as he turned towards the bandits that ran to engage them.

"Just," Rhuryc turned and rushed forward. "One," The boy hopped over an empty pit and vaulted across what was most likely their gear. "Moment!" He finished in a quick breath as he collided with what was the half-asleep form of Leader. The yelling had roused the over-sized man from his slumber and in his stupor he had not been able to react appropriately. With the advantage in his favor, Rhuryc slammed the hilt of his stolen weapon into the back of Leader's head and watched him fall. He promptly liberated the bastard sword and turned again.

"Thanks!" He said before he jolted off away from the camp again, his legs pounding the dirt in a blaze of speed.

Tristan glowered at the boy as he dispatched one of the bandits whom caught up, his blade sundering the man's arm from his shoulder. Together, they made their way off and disappeared back into the woods.

[Rhuryc]

"We need to go back." Rhuryc's voice filled the air with a pleading tone.

"No," Tristan responded with a glare. "We got out unscathed, boy, and you want to head back into the jaws of the beast itself?" Irritation followed.

"Celia got us out and we're not going to leave her there. What do you think they'll do to her when they find out she took the keys? Bake her a cake? C'mon, uncle." His voice had become restless. He returned Tristan's glare with a zealous fervor, intent to make him listen.

"She made her choice." Rage boiled in the man's eyes.

"And this is mine. If we're the chosen of Tyveth then we better damn well act like it. Leaving a young girl to her own devices doesn't sound much like chivalry to me." There. Let him choke on those words.

Tristan's only response was some strange, angry growl. He spat and cursed, the usual sign that Rhuryc had won. The boy nodded and tossed Naravane to his uncle who caught the blade with a firm grasp. Armed with his stolen weapon, Rhuryc fell in step with the man as they began their way back toward the bandit camp. There was little but silence between the two. Any sort of plan was worthless, they had nothing but clothes and swords. No bows, no spears, not even rocks. Well, they could always throw sticks. The short of their action was simple. They would sneak up the best they could and attempt to reach Celia before any harm befell. Then they would run. Again. Rhuryc knew his errand was a foolhardy one. After all, they had only just escaped death, but in no world was abandoning the girl a conscience free decision.

Once more the two adapted some queer form of stealth. With the sun high in the sky it was difficult to remain unseen, but the two worked well together. One would dart out to try and then motion for the other once the coast was called clear, each inspecting the world around them while watching the other's back. The bandits appeared all to willing to allow for new comers, though. As they came closer and closer to the camp neither Rhuryc nor Tristan found much of anyone on guard. Strange. When they finally found their way to the last suitable cover before the wide clearing both men came to a horrified stop. Out in front of the cave were what remained of the bandits. Five, in total, between Tristan and Rhruyc they must have killed a significant number of them. Leader stood at the head of the group while the two semi-armored men kept to his flanks. The other two, lesser peons no doubt, held Celia at bay, on her knees. They watched as Leader struck the girl and she was let go, left to huddle on her own on the ground.

No matter his disposition, Rhuryc felt the rage boil inside Tristan as it did within himself. They heard the girl cry out as she was lifted again and, without thought, both moved forward. In their obsession with punishment, and the assumption that both escaped prisoners would not come back, the duo was able to penetrate the clearing without trouble. Moving carefully, Tristan pulled on Rhuryc's arm and lead him to where Leader had originally woken. A large mat was sprawled out among a pile of objects. Most likely items littered from travelers on the road. With a gleam in his eye, Tristan stepped out into plain sight.

"Hide, boy." The man whispered with a grin.

Rhuryc did as he was told. He stepped around one of the piles - one that consisted of a few stacked packs and a crate or two of seemingly random goods, no doubt liberated from a nearby derelict cart - and lowered himself behind it, his sword held at his side. He blinked and smirked as he looked ahead, the form of an iron shield resting just outside of his reach. Payback would be sweet.

[Rhuryc]

"How brave." Tristan spoke aloud, his voice somehow stretching across the camp. How did he do that? "Perhaps you should take away her clothing. Surely, the fight as it is gives her the advantage."

The bandits stopped. With slow, angered movements they turned toward the voice and stared, some in shock. Leader, his own countenance fueled by a burning, white hot rage stepped forward and screamed, his hand jutting out as he pointed a single finger in Tristan's direction. The collective chorus of unsheathed blades followed the motion.

"I want 'em dead! You 'ere me?! D-E-D! Dead!" Leader's voice cut through the very trees themselves with it's venomous edge, the words he uttered wreathed in blades as if they could kill on their own. All four of the remaining retinue charged, their voices raised as one together in a cry meant to frighten there prey, but Tristan showed no sign of cowardice. He stood firm, his blade held out at the ready. The two peon-like individuals were first in the lead, not weighed down by armor they were faster and - most likely - fodder in the eyes of their betters. When they reached the piles Tristan took a wide step back and twisted his form, ducking low as he himself took to a charge, running forward to the surprise of his enemies.

"Now!" The old soldier's voice called with urgency.

Rhuryc nodded to no one in particular. He swept out from behind his cover with sword in hand, shield in the other, and brought the blade across the ground. He felt the edge catch a bandit in the leg, the shoddily made instrument searing enough flesh and bone to almost entirely severe the limb. A cry of pain followed the attack, one joined by a similar voice as Tristan wrecked havoc on his target. Blood spilled freely and battle raged. Concerned for his own well-being Rhuryc immediately adapted a defense pose and watched as one of the armored men broke off to engage him. He had never had a good look at just what the bandit wore and now, when faced with his potential blade, Rhuryc found this opponent was no simple affair. He wore a pauldron over his left shoulder, the arm of which also carried a shield. His legs were also protected by a rough set of greaves, obviously donned in haste with the afternoon activities. This fight would be no trivial matter.

His opponent was quick to act. A quick jab with his sword was met in tandem with a parry from Rhuryc, something designed to test his defenses. Another assault, Rhuryc raised his shield to deflect an over head blow and then returned the favor, his sword brought around in the wake of motion. Iron hit iron as the brawl raged on, both vying for supremacy in an exchange of blades. A shield came forward and Rhuryc stepped back, his own defense brought about and forced to collide with the offense. Taking his momentary advantage the boy stepped forward, his sword raised into the air just as an armored shoulder came down in an unexpected maneuver. The bandit shoved his opponent off balance and his sword followed next. Rhuryc felt pain jolt down his chest as he threw himself to the side, avoiding what would have most likely been a fatal blow by less than a single inch. That did not mean he remained unharmed. Blood soaked into his tunic and the boy struggled to return to his feet.

Armored feet stopped just over Rhuryc's form. A shield came down first, the edge intended to drop onto his stomach. Still aware, he contested the attack and bashed his own iron into the back of his assailant's assault. With a quick, upward thrust he caught the man inside his guard and blood began to drop down his side as the stolen blade did a fine job of breaking flesh. A stumble from the armored bandit gave Rhuryc time to stand and at the apex of his recovery the boy brought his shield around again and slammed into up into an outstretched chin. A sickening crack was followed by a crumpled body, one that no longer retained the ability to stand.

Rhuryc took in deep draw of air and turned about, his gaze locking onto Celia. The girl was on the ground. Leader was nowhere to be seen - most likely he had fled - and so the boy cleared distance between what would be the damsel in distress. He dropped his shield and sword and dropped down next to the young woman, his eyes alight with worry and concern. She appeared to be breathing. Relief washed over his face and even his shoulders relaxed.

"It's alright, you're safe now." The boy whispered quietly as he leaned forward, one hand wrapping around the girl's head. One eye fluttered open, the other forced shut from a blister so recently formed. Fear first marred her expression but it soon turned into relief, to a smile that stretched from one ear to the next.

"Y-you came b-back?" Tears began to stream down Celia's checks, those of which Rhuryc was only just able to hold back himself.

[Rhuryc]

"Rhuryc! Down!" Tristan's voice carried through the air with the utmost urgency. Time, it seemed, slowed.

Confused, the boy turned his head. There, with a raised sword, was Leader. Sneaky bastard. He had no time to react. Rhuryc could only watch as the man brought his blade down with a scowl, his eyes narrowed with no more desire than to kill. A torrent of memories flooded the boy's mind. Images of his father, his uncle, friends, events, all passed with the fleeting moment of a single blink. He found, though, in all of his thoughts, the one that remained the most apparent in his mind was his uncle's words. A chosen family. What foolishness. Here he was, at the mercy of a bandit, an individual that cares less about his existence than the very dirt upon his boot. If he had time Rhuryc would sigh. Instead, his eyes closed and he awaited the inevitable.

He felt something and that something was not a sword. Rhuryc's eye shot straight open as he hit the ground. A large weight covered his chest and just above him he could make out the form of a young woman. Celia? A painful expression marred her features, but there was some peace in her eyes - the same that Rhuryc had felt only a second prior. That was not how this was supposed to end. Celia's mouth moved, her lips quivering as breath escaped them, but no words followed. Her entire body shook before it went limp and Rhuryc was left, devastated. She was dead. He had watched as the young girl issued her last words, words that she did not even possess enough strength to give voice.

"Agh! Stoopid bitch!" Leader shoved his foot between Rhuryc and Celia and punted the body off of the boy. "Now you!" The bandit raised his blade agian.

Rhuryc was enraged. A swift movement and he brought his foot around, his leg rearing back and slamming into the larger man's shin. Leader stumbled and Rhuryc took to his advantage. He rolled and reclaimed both his armaments, up on his feet before the bandit recovered. A violent twist brought the boy back around and he leaped forward, his shield extended in a solid strike at his opponent. The impact knocked leader off balance. The man cursed and Rhuryc continued his belligerent assault, spurned onward by a torrential reign of hated and anger. His sword was sent in a series of wild, vicious strikes, one after the other with no pause between his actions. Leader found himself at a disadvantage. With each new assault Rhuryc stepped forward, his knuckles white on the hilt of his weapon. His voice carried a cry of rage as it left with the attacks, the intent of murder so ingrained in his mind that he had lost most of his self.

"Stop! I give!" Leader's voice called in desperation. Rhuryc, somehow, stayed his hand, his blade half extended in a last, final strike. The bandit's weapon was useless now, held up only in an attempt to stay off his own death for as long as he could. He glared down at the shrunken form of Leader. He was suddenly not as tough. The boy felt his lips curl into a snarl his breathing growing heavier with every passing moment. They stared at each other for what seemed to be hours, day, with only seconds passing in reality. Conflicting emotions ran through Rhuryc's mind. This man deserved to die. He needed to die, but who was he to make such judgement? Tristan's words echoed in his ears: Honor. Valor. Justice. What good were those concepts out here? Out amongst the murderers and thieves. With a defeated slouch, Rhuryc lowered his blade. How was he any better by committing such wanton violence?

A clever ploy.

Leader growled as he threw himself forward. Rhuryc raised his shield but found his defense contested. The bandit grabbed the top of the iron and hurling it from the boy's grasp, the iron slamming into the ground some distance away. His sword followed and the boy found their exchange reversed. He did everything he could to defend himself. Iron smashed against iron in a pitiful display of desperation. Forced back, Rhuryc found himself on the retreat. He gritted his teeth and did everything in his power to remain upright, to find some break in the action, but it never came. What was worse, he felt something below his feet. With a stumble Rhuryc went spiraling backwards. He felt to his back and lost a handle on his sword. This was it. There would be no rescue this time.

Tristan was unamused.

[Rhuryc]

"No. You." The rasp of the old soldier's voice came from behind Leader. The edge of Naravane pierced through to the bandits chest and Rhuryc watched as blood poured down the front of his tunic. He gurgled something inaudible and Tristan removed the blade from his back. A kick knocked the bandit aside. A grunt issued forth from Tristans lips and he stepped forward, one hand extended to the fallen Rhuryc. The grasp was accepted and the boy found himself on his feet. His countenance was a mesh of emotions. Relief, hate, anger, sadness. He was unsure how to feel with the day's events. The bandits were dead, surely, and both he and Tristan were alive, but what was the point? Their goal was nothing more than a corpse now. A sunken, useless body. Rhuryc's gaze lingered on the dead, or perhaps still dying, body of Leader. He prevented himself from acting, but he wanted nothing more than to desecrate the body.

"Took you long enough." The boy said, his adrenaline finally washing away. They were safe. At least for now.

"Sorry, I didn't want to sacrifice my blood for a quick kill." Tristan responded by prodding Rhuryc's chest. The boy recoiled and grumbled, aware that his uncle have just been watching. Though he did have a point. Rhuryc forgot that he was even wounded. He would no doubt feel light headed later. "C'mon, whelp. We need to get you patch up."

"We can't just leave her to rot, uncle." Rhuryc said as his gaze flicked to the unmoving form of Celia. All of his anger washed away in those few moments. She had sacrificed herself for him. Why? "She saved my life. Twice. And yours."

"Fine." That was easy. Tristan seemed generally amiable to the idea.

Both of them spent the next few hours 'cleaning up'. They unceremoniously tossed the bandits into the cave and separated Celia from the mass. With a spade and a real shovel procured from the mass of stolen goods, the two of them dug a shallow, pitiful whole, albeit not before Tristan made a quick patch job of Rhuryc's wound. So long as it did not get infected the boy would be fine. Maybe. Nevertheless, the scrape was ignored and the two of them buried the girl within the scope of silence. There was little to say. Neither of them knew her and she was the mysterious ward of a group of bandits. Perhaps she had committed atrocities all her own. Her actions, at least, might have redeemed a sinful history.

Once finished with their task both Tristan and Rhuryc scrounged together what remained of their gear. Most of it, really, but they took nothing else. None of the weapons, nor the armor, not even the rimmed Mizas, those of which they found plenty. According to Tristan's logic it did not belong to them and Rhuryc found that he cared very little, his mind still forlorn over their failed rescue. The night was spent at the camp and in the morning the two started off towards what Tristan figured was the direction of the road. Strange, nothing seemed different. Despite the action, the drama, the morning was just another day.

"Back home then?" Rhuryc spoke with a stoic tone as he walked instep next to his uncle.

Tristan laughed. Heartily. "You think this gets you out of training? Guess again, whelp. You've got yourself two days to heal before we start."

What a bastard.

[Leviathan]

Thread Award! Rhuryc Exp +2 Observation, +3 Weapon (Sword), +2 Brawling, +1 Wrestling, +3 weapon (Shield), +2 Running, +1 Interrogation, +1 Investigation, +1 Unarmed Combat, +1 Stealth Lore Mercy Over Vengeance, Surviving with Failure Additional Comments Here's to my #1 customer! As usual, if you have any questions or comments, concerns or words of resentment, feel free to PM me and I can either work out a solution or stab you in the heart with a carving knife. Just kidding! Keep up the good work. P.S. Your threads are usually exciting, keep it up.