by A Uscila
Slowly, like she was some star of an action movie – Willow took off her hood. Revealing dazzling black hair - tied in a tight ball behind. She carefully made sure that the quiver of arrows, hidden beneath the cloak, would be easily accessible if need be. Leaving the very top in the open.
Once that over-done preparation was over with – Willow once again gripped her favored dagger in her right hand. Tightly entwining her fingers around its’ extravagantly engraved hilt.
It was on.
With lighting speed – yet surprising lack of noise – Willow jumped at the very first archer. As she approached the target within a crouching position – the huntress seemed to activate some sort of skill, which made the dagger slightly shine in a yellow glimmer.
In quick succession she stabbed the unprepared soldier thrice – once in the neck, once in the side – between the ribs and once in the right thigh. Resourcefully using the surrounding noise to obscure her actions.
Complete overkill – as the poor man fell lifeless to the ground soon after, releasing naught but a silent gargle – death taking his life away within moments. Blood leaked his bodily confines – dying the yellow tabard he wore in a dark, morbid shade. Revealing the chainmail beneath as the damp cloth clung to the metal.
Once that was done – Willow jumped to the next unsuspecting soldier without delay, repeating an identical sequence as her dagger continuously shone.
Within less than a minute – five soldiers were already dead. Dying in complete unsuspecting silence. Returning to the earth – repaying their debt to it, with their very bodies.
Eventually though – the seventh soldier noticed what was going on behind – being the first one to actually react.
“Behind!” – He warned loudly, dropping the bow and quickly unsheathing a short-sword. Readying to face this unwelcome foe. Yet before the soldier could properly angle his sword – Willow was already upon him. Mercilessly – she sliced at the sword hand – leaving a deep cut on the victims’ wrist. Which did ruin any plans of proper self-defense. Once that was in motion – nothing could save the poor guy. In lightning speed – Willow stabbed at the soldier at least five times, visibly aiming each one with a surgeon’s eye.
As the seventh soldier fell to mother earth’s soft embrace – the remaining eight had the time to prepare. Most of them drawing their swords and approaching this new foe. Two, though - preferred to remain with bows – continuing their assault on the bandits below. Confident that six armed men could easily take care of a single female.
Obviously – they were right. Willow knew from the get-go that she’s in over her head – thus a quick repositioning was in order. A transparent blue covered her legs, as she activated her favorite escape skill. Though – one might notice the identical circumstances. Foes in chase, surrounded by trees, in imminent danger. Let’s just hope no trees are harmed during the scuffle.
Willow didn’t plan on it. This time, instead of trying to jump away from her enemies – she did the opposite. Her legs kicked off from the ground and within seconds the dashing ranger was standing right next to one of the archers. One of those over-confident bastards, who decided to let their six buddies do the dirty work. A truly hostile and despicable notion - towards a single defenseless lady. Turning their backs on all of it. What horror.
A few quick stabs – and Willow’s still shining dagger did its’ work. One satisfied customer right here – as the backstabbing mistress smiled happily. At least in her head. Instead, those around could only see a crazed succubus, sneering in a mockery of beauty – drowning in blood, violence and madness. A true battle-born mistress – in a sadistically alluring kind of way. A bunch of masochists. Some even froze up gaping like imbeciles.
Willow – using this as an opportunity to gain more profit out of the situation, jumped at the remaining archer. One, who remained oblivious of what went around – as he loosed a few more arrows towards the foes below. Too late did he pay heed to the sounds of rustling leaves behind. Before he could turn around – three precise, piercing hits struck the body and darkened his vision for an eternity.
A sad end for the soldier. Yet a happy one for Willow – as her sneer seemed to expand even more. Surprisingly – instead of turning to finish off the remaining six, the huntress simply jumped further away. A glimmering trace of yellow – left behind as she flew away. Though it faded before Willow hit ground – descending in a roll, as her legs touched it.
Once she rose from a crouching position, Willow replaced the dagger with a bow – aiming at the pursuing soldiers. Two of which were smart enough to re-equip their bows. Four remaining? Not too smart. As one of them fell to the ground with five arrows in his chest soon after.
Quite the reload speed. Once one of the closest soldiers was done in – Willow repositioned herself once more. Ingeniously – she made sure that the trees around hindered the sight of her ranger arch-enemies, while having a perfect view of the approaching foes.
One arrow, two, three and their advance slowed down quite a bit - an arrow sticking out right above the knee for each one soldier. Swearing, fumbling and sweating – the three finally gave up. As two of them tried to run away, while the third hid behind a nearby tree. He didn’t have to search far – that’s for sure.
Regardless – before his ranged support could find a proper vantage point, two of his cowardly colleagues were already dead. Without a hint of mercy – Willow did her bloody work with visible pleasure. It did indeed seem that she enjoyed overpowering others. Perhaps, though not necessarily – especially males. One might wonder if she was indirectly trying to get back at someone. Maybe some lean piece of fine male flesh – covered in ragged, yet surprisingly stylish robes and a totally unique, at least for his age group, hairstyle. Just a passing thought.
Willow ducked – barely dodging an arrow that flew right over her head, threatening to ruin her valued hairstyle.
Seeing as the soldiers were playing dirty and aiming at a girl’s weakness – Willow rearmed herself once more. With a dagger in hand she quickly joined the remaining sword-wielding soldier and embraced him in a loving embrace of bloody murder.
A few dodges, at least eight stabs and the deed was done. Another lucky guy received an opportunity to rest - while leaning on a red-stained tree for an eternity. Willow, on the other hand - continued her charge at the remaining two. Who knew she was so committed?
Seeing that they were the only ones left – the two remaining grooms decided to end this dysfunctional relationship right then and there. Quite the bold thought.
Thus – both of them threw down their bows and ran for their lives. They would have succeeded as well – if not for a series of unfortunate, yet timely events.
Willow – seeing the dance so abruptly severed, decided to send the two a parting gift.
Once again – the huntress switched weapons and loosed two arrows in quick succession. Which once again - displayed her remarkable, yet suspicious aim. Both hit their marks – hampering their leg function remarkably. Slowing the progress of the two enough to make the hunt that much easier. Once both fell on all fours and attempted to stubbornly crawl away - Willow once again activated a skill that recharged just in time
As soon as her feet released a transparent glow – Willow jumped at the nearest victim without delay. Mid-air – she gripped her dagger and got ready to perform a blood-churning combination of coldblooded murder. Once behind – Willow stabbed at the fleeing soldier at least four times. Piercing his back in various points – yet before he could fall face forward, she gripped him by the hair and ran her weapon from one ear to the other. Sending the fellow to the underworld with a positive outlook – carried along by a crimson red smile.
Without dilly-dallying, she jumped at the last one – serving him the same red pie with visible pleasure.
One might consider this art – performed so perfectly. Beauty was indeed present – a cold one, with not a drop of warm blood in the veins. Yet it could indeed be marveled at. Looked upon an
d loved.
Not by Willow though, as she simply did not spend a moment of her time for appraisal. Quickly, she left the scene, jumping in haste towards the outskirts of the battlefield below. Her comrades left to suffer an ambush and cursed to a grim end. Not if she could help it.
Seeing as one flank was finally safe – Willow hoped for it to serve as at least some form of relief. A respite. A hope. She definitely did not get caught up in the moment and the thrill of the fight. Oh no. Certainly not that.
Chapter 31
As grunts, groans, gargling screams of pain and the clamor of metal echoed throughout the forest - men delved in their own form of dialogue. Heavy breaths, feet unsteady upon the blood-soaked ground, sweat sliding over exposed skin in solid drops, while almost tangible steam rose from their blood-covered bodies as they parried and counter-attacked with all their strength. Pushing back grim reaper’s bony hands - delaying their last moments in a desperate struggle.
With ragged breaths - Willow observed the scene below, eyes darting from one detail to the other. Unable to take in the whole scene fully, unable to make a decision on what to do next. At this point - Willow wasn’t sure if involving herself with the fight any more than she already has, served any purpose. Since the caravan’s fate seemed carved in stone. Considering the circumstances were beyond unfavorable for the defending forces.
Attacked from both sides, while situated on a narrow, winding forest path. Locked between two expanses of higher land. Without a doubt - the gods of Alternative Reality were quite unkind in this particular circumstance. Though when have they ever been? Those morbid jesters.
By now - the defenders were desperately struggling for survival, standing above and between the deceased. Be it man or horse - both mutilated and peppered with arrow-ends. Ankle deep in blood soaked muck. Beset on all sides by enemies - foes of human descent. Their ambushers were armed in various weaponry - be it spear or sword, dagger or axe - some with shields in their off-hands. Chainmail surcoats were the most common protective attire - serving well against both piercing and cutting blows, to a certain extent. All of which was covered up by a bright yellow tabard - a symbol of a pair of green, entwined snakes upon their left breasts present. Not the best color of choice for ambushes, to be sure. At least common sense would dictate so.
Their counterparts, the defenders - were sadly, but obviously under-armed and outnumbered. Most likely outwitted as well - seeing as they managed to get themselves in such a situation to begin with. How did they manage to get ambushed by yellow wearing jesters, in the middle of the day? Let alone in summer.
At best - they wore studded leather armors, which did serve as protection, though the mobility it provided was completely misplaced when there’s no room to move in. They couldn’t even put it to use in an all-out route, seeing as being surrounded kind of put a stop to it. With no other choice left, they fought on. Their very lives at stake. Arms moving in a blur - striking and thrusting be it with sword or spear, bent on taking down as many attackers with them as possible. The hope for survival pushed aside by instinct, a maddening urge to bite and tear like a cornered beast.
Sadly, only a few standing men retained an organized formation - gathering in a tight cluster of shield and spear. Their backs against the front of the foremost wagon - protected by the fact, that climbing over its’ content would prove as a waste of time and effort. Considering how highly and unevenly packed the bags were within.
This gathering - even though numbering in a bare twenty-three men - was visibly led by an outwardly outstanding figure. A mere meter in front of his companions he stood. Bob. A man clad in dark steel plate and chain - which covered most of his vital spots, yet still allowed unrestrained movement. He swung his usual sword with both hands – its’ grey blade pulsing in a bright red. Shredding those that dared to approach in half - melding into the gaping wounds as it passed. Seemingly sucking in the very lifeblood of those it killed.
At this point, Willow’s eyes stopped traveling from point to point - as they caught Bob within their sight. Seems like the very sight of that buffoon brought-up unpleasant memories to the stealthy beauty. Her fingertips gently traveling in circles in between the eyebrows in a supposed attempt to alleviate any oncoming headaches. Jaw muscles visibly tensing up. Who would have guessed that Willow disliked the valiant brute to that extent?
Yet, circumstances did not give way for serious contemplations to take their time within the vixen’s mind - as a fresh, yet expected development took place. Slowly, but surely - the sounds of battle below were drowned out by a stampede of horses - their hoofs mercilessly beating upon the earth. Approaching the place of conflict from both sides of the caravan - were numerous riders dressed in the same colors as the ambushing forces. Unlike the foot soldiers - they wore leather jerkins - with yellow cloth sticking out through its’ ends. Scabbards with sword-handles sticking out of them hung from their waists, while they themselves wielded small round shields and throwable short-spears. Javelins. A quiver with a leather strap hanging across their backs - filled to the brim with these deadly projectiles.
These new arrivals quickly passed the battle lines, accidentally knocking down a few of their own troops - which did not seem to sadden or slow those a-horse at all.
It did seem to shock a few foot soldiers though, as they stared at their unlucky comrades agape. Quite the blunder - seeing as they were in the middle of a battle. Those stupid enough to be so distracted while on the very front lines ended up being skewered and cut apart. A lucky break for the defending, without a doubt. The unexpected reinforcement of those attacking only serving to add vigor to the ambushed. Their desperation pushing their limits to new heights. Outnumbered, littered with various projectiles - the deadly javelin taking its’ rightful place as the most fearsome. Piercing through leather and wooden shields - lodging itself in the bodies of those unlucky enough to be hit. Easily killing-off a number already - the raised shields serving as nothing more but a means for a short respite. A false illusion of safety.
Finally - Willow made up her mind. After taking her time in pointless dilly-dallying, she sighed heavily and drew her bow once more. A strange choice at this stage in the conflict - considering that no amount of help would change the tide of battle. Perhaps she thought otherwise. Perhaps her conscience wouldn’t allow it any other way. Or maybe she subconsciously waited till the end was definite and only intervened for both a superficial peace of mind and some personal game? Who knows?
Before loosing the first arrows, the ranged vixen did take pleasure in seeing Bob struggle. That annoying pest, who dared to lift his sword against a helpless maiden like Willow. Oh yes, she still held a grudge.
A number of short-spears - thrown by the horsed soldiers were falling towards him as their choice of a target. Quite possibly - distinguishing him as the only true remaining force to be squashed - all to achieve a final victory.
Yet, to Willow’s apparent displeasure - seeing how her lips twisted into a frown - Bob did not get skewered on the spot. On the contrary - he didn’t lose his head, twisting in a peculiar way, only to deflect two whole javelins in a split second. And even though one did manage to slip through and lodge itself in Bob’s shoulder - the feat did not remain unrecognized, regardless. Since quite a number of yellows were standing wide-eyed - crestfallen that the biggest annoyance in this struggle still stood alive and well. Defiant until the very end.
Willow on the other hand - knew better. First of all, the javelin lodged itself quite deeply in the shoulder - seeing as Bob struggled to pull it out. She could almost hear a grunt of pain. Quite a pleasant sight - as her lips quickly turned back into a smile. Another display of emotional instability.
Second of all - the javelin wasn’t the first one to pierce that thick skin of his. Three arrowheads were already sticking out from his side - one of them being right next to the javelin. Trails of blood trickled down – forming a sizeable stretch of blood-soaked earth. Most of it, presumably, belonging to those that f
ell to Bob’s blade. Quite a number of dismembered carcasses laid about in a neat half-circle in front of him.
Stacked atop each other - they served as quite the detergent for any who dared to attack. Seeing as getting a proper and steady foothold while traversing that half-moon of death, proved as quite the challenge. A few braver individuals serving as a proper example - as they thought themselves better than the rest. With spears in hand - the two climbed over their deceased brethren two at a time, certain that their long-range weapons would serve perfectly in such circumstance. Perhaps in more skilled hands.
For a moment or two - the theory did seem to prove itself, as Bob seemed to be on the defensive. He parried and dodged - seemingly unable to counterattack, which prompted a few more opportunistic scamps to join in. Before they could advance past their ally vanguard of two – the momentum was lost, as Bob took the initiative. With an overdone parry - he slapped aside one of the spears and charged closer to his foes. Black flames engulfed his pulsing sword - as he swooped his blade across the four approaching foes. His timing perfectly catching the moment when all four were in a neat line. The unexpected counterattack caught all four off guard. Black flames engulfed their screaming figures - as blood visibly evaporated before even leaving the gaping wounds in their guts. One strike was all it took to devastate those attacking and deter those still hesitant to join in, thus ensuring a fragile stalemate where neither side could leave their position. Those in yellow, because it would mean their death and Bob – because it would mean the demise of his fellow bandits that barely held out behind.
Seeing that come to pass - Willow had a sudden idea and without spending a second longer in hesitation, started to loose arrows towards the enemies’ right flank.
