[ The Bronze Woods] The Calling Part 3

[Holland Rolandus]

Spring 10th 515 A.V

The tenth of spring was the second day of the hunt. Finding out who had stolen the woman’s weapon was important. The sole purpose of the entirety of this journey; Holland would stop at nothing to aid her. Even if it meant being injured; he always wished to have been an idol to someone. Heroism typically wasn’t something Holland was very much into. Never before had he attempted something this dangerous and daring. The entire process of having to hunt down another man scared him. The tedious task of tracking down an enemy wasn’t something he was used to. The first individual he simply stumbled upon. Simply by being present; luck had been on his side. Yet, this time that didn’t seem to be the case. After all the searching he’d already completed for several chimes he hadn’t found his opponent. He couldn’t even remember the detail as to what he looked like. The elderly woman gave him several descriptions; yet, he’d forgotten them. Holland learned a new lesson today; take notes when being instructed. He simply had to try his hand at luck again. Although it wasn’t likely; he needed to be ambushed. Therefore he simply took off a prized item; a signet ring composed of engraved stone. Having held it in his right hand, and proceeded to grasp hold of his shirt. Before he pulled up his sleeves, and they hugged his forearms.

Holland took in a massive inhalation, and didn’t bother being overly anxious about the situation. He calmed himself down and just continued to trudge along the path; forcing himself to walk. Holland smiled and chuckled a bit as he’d strode along doing no more then pacing himself. Holland observed as multiple gales blew about the plants within the vicinity. The dancing tree branches; and blades of grasses which wove about elegantly. He very clearly heard the distinct sound of crunching beneath his feet; the sound of fallen leaves. Having admired the beauty of it all; taking in the gorgeous scenery of nature itself. Striding about, and paying close attention to everything about his surroundings. Having felt like he was being watched again. Paranoia possessed him and he turned his cranial structure about swiftly. He’d just finished fighting against one of the three individuals. Perhaps he was simply being crazed; an after effect of having just completed a battle. Holland grew more and more restless and felt anxious about where he stepped.

Holland attempted to clear his mind only to fail time and time again. Crunch, Crunch, Crunch he could hear off in the distance. His thoughts hammered away at his focus. Holland lost the ability to think straight, and parted his lips. Immediately in an outrageous outburst Holland spoke. “I will find you, and when I do I will destroy you. I will attack you to the best of my ability. I may not be the best, but being a Hero isn’t about being the best. I’ve come to realize that now; being a hero isn’t about being unbeatable. Being a hero means to conquer your fears and stand up in the face of danger! I shall no longer fear anyone or anything. Even if I lose my life doing my job I will protect what is correct. I may have a sick and twisted sense of justice, but I shall not stand by and watch myself allow this to happen to people. I’ve been through a whole lot in my short life time, and I will not stand for you thieves stealing what isn’t yours!”


Holland stopped speaking, and he could no longer speak suddenly. The tingling sensation that someone stood directly behind him overwhelmed him. He heard ten distinct words, and the voice was cold. The voice could only be described as stone cold, malevolent, evil and mercilessly raspy. He couldn’t even begin to fathom why he was suddenly so fear-stricken after having spoken the words of courage. He could never have mentally prepared himself for a moment like this. This was the moment of climactic action, and he wasn’t ready. Holland didn’t even have time to react as he felt the cold steel against the flesh of his throat. The bandit very gently drug the blade across his windpipe; not cutting Holland. Holland heard the voice which was no more then a whisper in his ear; at an incredibly close range. “You, are a hero? I hate heroes quite a bit.” Spoke the voice in conclusion and immediately he felt another blade. This one was placed directly beneath his arm; at the exposed rib cage of the back-and-breast armor he wore. Holland feared not only for his life, but for the well-being of Claudia. He loved her so much that he wouldn’t dare allow himself to fall here. Holland had to choose the next series of his words carefully. So that he wouldn’t be killed right here right now, and he chose them immediately. “Are you, A-“Holland was cut off by the opposing entity whose face he couldn’t even see? “Yes, I’m a bandit you piece of shyke, and this voice of mine will be the last one you’ll ever hear.” Holland had been so filled with fear that he was left motionless. He had learned yet another lesson about combat; to overcome fear. Holland felt his heart as it hammered away beneath his chest cavity. Holland thought to himself and came to a grim realization. That he had one of two options; the first was to sit like prey and die here. The second option he had was to attempt improvising a way to get out of this situation. Holland immediately brought downward his right hand in order to grasp hold of his Rapier. Cutting-off his motion the Bandit brings downward the second weapon which was against Holland’s ribcage. Placing it where the rapiers pommel was, and cutting the flesh of Holland’s hand. The bandit simply scoffed, and spoke “If you move again I will kill you. “

Holland thought that he couldn’t do much at this point. He had the ability to strike the opponent. All he could use for right now was his elbow by bending his arm. Yet, who was to say that his throat wouldn’t be slit before that was even attempted?

[Holland Rolandus]

Holland jerked his embodiment to the right, and launched his elbow off into the opponents gut. The sheer force behind the blow robbed the opponent of breath. Holland immediately leapt forward and began attempting to run away from his opponent. Having fled from the current vicinity, and he clasped his rapiers hilt. Holland had drawn the blade from its restraint. The sound of clattering steel was heard, and he charged forward only to realize the opponent wasn’t there. Holland simply turned about in a circle and searched for his opponent further. Confused as to where he could’ve gone so suddenly; only to realize one thing. He heard whistling and chuckling from his right side, and immediately he looked. Holland immediately caught sight of a rapidly moving object. He thought to himself that very instant. “The blade that is what it is.” He’d thought to himself and attempted to duck. Only to fail in dodging the weapon as the steel tip slashed the flesh directly above his cheek, and beneath his eye. Holland would’ve typically screamed from the sudden pain. Yet, this wasn’t a time to be fearful or scream from agony. Holland’s life was endangered and he wouldn’t allow himself to die here and now. Holland reeled back, and staggered into a combative stance. Remembering what the elderly woman told him. She taught him to stay away from close range blows, and that daggers were swift. Holland charged forward into the opponents attack as the opposing entity threw a thrust. Holland completed a thrust of his own, and fully extended his arm forth into the opponent.

Having been out-witted by the Bandit; Holland observed as the attack was dodged gracefully. His eyes widened as he watched the opponents wrist flying toward his own. Holland was practically unable to react, but barely managed to throw a punch with his opposing hand. Holland connected the fist with the opponents’ visage. Throwing a strike to begin with was a grave mistake. Holland wouldn’t come to realize why until he was stricken right in the stomach. Being uplifted and thrown off of the opponents’ fist into the ground; Holland grunted in pain. Hardly able to breathe, and stunned Holland reacts. Immediately, Holland rolled over to avoid being stomped on by his opponent. The bandit missed the incredibly hard stomp. Holland grew more and more enraged by the passing moment. The bandit brought down his dagger in a hammer-fisting motion to strike Holland in the head. Holland narrowly dodges the strike to the cranial structure, and observed the glimmering steel. Attempting to regain the advantage in this battle; Holland leapt upward. Letting go of his rapier Holland wrapped both his arms around the opponents’ legs. Having uplifted his opponent and brought him down onto the ground immediately.

Holland slammed the bandit down atop his cranial structure, and hoped that it worked. The tactic of attempting to gain ground by being aggressive failed. Holland had to attempt coming up with something else other then an aggressive onslaught. Perhaps it was best for him to allow the opponent to tire himself out before striking. Holland would do just that, and allow the opponent to miss several more attacks. A few chimes later steel collided with steel. Holland had been forced into infighting with his opponent. Steel clattered as the blades came in contact with one another. Glimmering light exited each of the weapons as they impacted one another. Light exited off into the atmosphere surrounding the two. The battle looked like a collision of bright torches flickering about from a distance. The sheer sound of clattering steel echoed throughout the entirety of the vicinity. Sparks flew from the force behind the collision of the weapons; at a rapid pace. Holland began to grow fatigued and yet he knew he had to continue. Holland leapt backward, and remembered what must be done. Holland increased the distance between himself and the Bandit. Immediately he closed that mere three foot distance; with a “one-two” strike using the Rapier. Bidding to break the bandits’ defense; Holland moves forth. Simply parrying them away as if they were weak and easily redirecting them. The entire length of the Rapier was moved to the right. The bandit threw out a strike using his left hand simultaneously; striking Holland in the face. Sending Holland staggering backward and he attempted regaining balance. Yet, just as he regained balance the Bandit charged again. Holland was tackled to the ground immediately, and fell upon his back. Holland looked the Bandit in the eyes. Realizing that he was left with only one choice; Holland decided to be dishonorable. Having thrown upward his cranial structure, and launched it into the opponents’ nose. The impact was successful, and a satisfying crunch was heard. Holland knew it was too late to stop, and he reeled back his cranial structure. Before having to wrestle against the opponent, and roll him over onto his backside immediately. Holland was now left sitting atop the opponent, and relentlessly beat him. Holland went forth and elbowed the Bandits visage. Having smashed it time and time again, before he mercilessly punched the opponent in the head. Holland grew so angry, so instinctive that he couldn’t stop. He wanted to kill the man, and yet couldn’t bring himself to do it. Holland beat the Bandit to a bloody mess; only to discover Holland cut up his own hands. A face is much harder then it appears to be at first glance; Holland learned that lesson the hard way.


Holland looked upon his knuckles, and noticed that they were cut and bruised. Each of them bore minor cuts and bled a slight amount. He could practically feel his heart beating within his hands. The adrenaline which flourished throughout Holland’s being fleeted, and he felt all of the pain. The pain struck him all at once, and he began to collapse. Yet, he couldn’t simply stop in his mission now. He had to search the body and use subterfuge to see if the opposing male had the weapon. Tick, after tick Holland searched the pockets of the Bandit. Having found nothing other then the pair of daggers, and having left the vicinity empty handed once more. Why in the world was finding a weapon such a grueling task? Why couldn’t it be easier to find the weapon? Holland continued to question his faith further and further as the days passed.

[Holland Rolandus]

Holland discovered that the second bandit had nothing at all. Holland was demoralized and felt as if he wouldn’t find the weapon. Holland wouldn’t allow himself to have failed after getting this far. The third Bandit couldn’t have been too far from the current vicinity, and Holland refused to stop now. Holland needed a rest after having just battled against the second Bandit. The first bandit alone terrified Holland, and the second was just plain horrific. Holland feared the worst possible outcome for what would occur when he found the third. Holland already knew that at this point fighting against the third Bandit would be a scary experience. Holland already came close to meeting death twice. A third time would be one he didn’t want to undergo. Yet, he underwent it anyway because it was the right thing to do. Holland hated having to do things for people he didn’t even know. Yet, he figured that this was the lifestyle he should get used to living. Being a Mercenary meant that he would have to do so regardless of rather or not he wanted to. Risking his life for another person wasn’t something he wanted to do, but he had to do it anyway. Despite the fact that he was practically given the choice of saying no to begin with; he didn’t. Leaving him no choice but to finish what he started, he wanted to complete the task.

Holland simply turned about, after having gotten up off of the scum-bag of a Bandit. He walked forward and paced his way back over toward his tent. Not even getting too far from his grounded opponent. Before the Bandit stood again and suddenly began to attack! Why in the world was it even possible for the opponent to get up? The human body often times when subject to trauma or exhilarating situations produces adrenaline. Adrenaline is a temporary outing, and is part of the fight-or-flight reflex. It can be used to make a quick escape, and or it can be used to battle in a combat situation. When the body is filled with high levels of adrenaline; pain isn’t typically felt immediately. In this case the Bandit hadn’t felt the pain. Therefore he’d gotten up and rushed once more before he would’ve completely collapsed. Holland was shocked and swiftly turned about only to be stricken in the chin. The bandits palm slammed into Holland’s chin with quite a bit of force. Leaving Holland to stagger backward and fall immediately; his cranium shaken up. Dazed confused and dizzy was Holland as he tried to fight back. The Bandit finally collapsed, and Holland learned yet another valuable lesson. Just because an opponent stops moving doesn’t mean a fight is over.

Holland made the mistake of letting the opponent off. He should’ve continued the onslaught and he failed again. Lesson after lesson; Holland became more educated in battle. He should’ve stricken and waited for the opponent not to expect his strike, yet he didn’t do that. Holland wasn’t very experienced in terms of battle outside of spars against his father. Therefore he had to learn the hard way when it came to what not to do during combat. Holland thought to himself as he observed and watched the opposing male collapse once more. Holland was surprised he collapsed after only delivering a single strike. Yet, he was glad that the opponent did indeed stop fighting back. Holland lacked the endurance to have continued on with a battle for that long. The duration was far too much for him to have continued. Holland simply continued to walk away and think about the future for himself as a mercenary. He didn’t want to quit doing mercenary work, and although it was hard he continued. Holland waltzed over to his tent before taking a seat directly in-front of it. Having set it up beneath a large Tree, and fortunately this wasn’t the winter. Holland grew tired of those several nights. Holland remembered having to worry about his bodily temperature. For now though the temperature of his body wouldn’t be an issue for survival. He would spend the remainder of the night out here sleeping. Preparing for what tomorrow might’ve brought him, and making sure he was ready to fight. He had to come up with more tactics, and perhaps through the use of such tactics he would assess the final bandit. He didn’t want to waste any more time trying to find this weapon. If anyone had it at this point it was the third and final Bandit. The first two didn’t have it at all. Yet, he remembered the one thing that sent a chill up his spinal cord. The woman told him that the man was capable of shooting fire out of his fingertips. Perhaps the Bandit was like Holland; a reimancer. Although that wasn’t very likely being that he was a Bandit. Who would teach a thieving knifing sticky-fingered bandit to use magic? Unless of course that bandit was a wizard before hand, and turned to a life of crime.

Surely the Syliran Knights might’ve gone on patrol outside the city. Yet, the one thing they didn’t do was prevent the use of magic. The Bandits were very good at hiding things from others. Perhaps they were good with hiding the fact that they used reimancy outside the city walls as well? The question was would they even have to hide it at all? Being that the rules only truly applied within the city walls. Unless, of course; one is caught using magic for the wrong reasons outside the city. Though, Holland noticed something once he thought about it. Why in the world did he not make note of the fact that this area wasn’t one patrolled often. That was what made this spot perfect for them to ambush and rob by-passers. The knights didn’t pay attention here. Not to this particularly thick area of woods. Holland made sure he would remember that and found himself slipping off into his large tent. Night has just fallen and he is immediately fast asleep; exhausted from battle. He remains here for the rest of the night, and prepares for his journey the following morning.

[Devi]

Your Grades have arrived! Holland Skills: Observation: 2XP Rhetoric: 1XP Unarmed Combat: 1XP Acrobatics: 1XP Weapon Skills - Rapier: 1XP Endurance: 1XP Investigation: 1XP Planning: 1XP Lores: Unarmed Combat: A face is much harder than it appears The Bronze Woods: Bandits flourish where the Knighthood doesn’t patrol Weapon Skills - Rapier: Slower than daggers Injuries Sustained: Sliced right hand, light. 4 days to heal fully, less with medical attention. Slice to face, light. 2 days to heal fully. Grazing/bruising to both hands, knuckles, 4 days to heal fully, less with medical attention. Bruised chin, painful for 5 days, mark won’t fade for 14 days. Bruised abdomen, painful for 5 days, mark won’t fade for 14 days. Comments: Interesting part of the story, I'm intrigued to see the other parts. Looks like you got a myriad of injuries to go home with - poor Holland will need a rest when he's finished with the job! Just a quick note - I know that the tense that you write in has been mentioned before. You're still slipping sometimes into present tense. It can be a little jarring when the rest is past tense so worth continuing to work on that. If it helps it seems to come out more during your writing of combat - visualising the movements no doubt! Let me know if you have any questions and don't forget to edit your post in the Grade Request Thread. Happy Writing!