Taran laughed. Her voice, like tinkling bells, echoed through the village, bouncing off of the walls of the houses, growing in volume. While the dust was still in the air, she took the opportunity to look around for a better weapon, and, in the corner, saw a metal staff, like the blacksmith hadn't finished putting the head of the spear on when the bandits came. She moved over to it, picking it up, and moved confidently toward the approaching bandits.
"How can you fight death?" She sneered. "A goddess of death?"
She had chosen her fighter's name, Kali, with care. When she had been a fighter, she had wanted to remain anonymous, but with a name to be feared. She had stumbled upon an old book of myths, in a library, and had chosen the name Kali, the goddess of death and destruction.
The bandits halted uncertainly. "The goddess of….what?" The more important bandit squinted at her. "You sayin' we're supposed to believe you're some kinda goddess? Hah! Prove it, then!" He waved for the others to follow him and charged directly at Taran, yelling with great bravado.
"If you say so," she said indifferently, and then burst into motion. She was a whirlwind of movement, moving in a kind of deadly dance, tripping the bandits with one end of her staff and smacking them in the head with it as they went down. She jabbed one end of the metal piece into a bandits stomach, hard, and he doubled over, choking. She didn't stop moving for an instant, slashing and kicking and hitting. A sword came down at her head, and she caught it with her metal arm, gripping his wrist and flinging him into another bandit.
It took the bandits several moments to grasp the situation, and by that time they were thoroughly beaten. Those that were still standing backed away in terror, holding up their hands in surrender. The one who'd been acting important before was now on the ground, weakly scrabbling backwards. "H-hold on! Please don't kill us! Who….who are you!?"
(I gtg for a walk, brb!)
(Bye!)
"I haven't killed anyone yet," Taran said, rolling her eyes. She stopped, barely panting, and looked at them in amusement, hands on her hips. She had forgotten what it was like to fight, and to win. "I have no plans to start now." She smiled at them, teeth bared like a wolf. "I told you. I'm the goddess of death."
The bandit babbled in fright. He and the others were clearly about to run for the hills—but then a new voice cut through the air from the shadows nearby.
"What's going on, Muddybones?"
The voice was deep and rough, and it made the bandits flinch. The important one, presumably Muddybones, scrambled to his feet and turned to face the person who'd spoken, his eyes wide. "Boss! Uh…..when did you get here?"
A huge shape loomed from the shadows, walking slowly into view. It was a man, easily six feet tall and weathered as an old tree. His face was horribly twisted and pitted by scars, but the brown eyes underneath were clear and sharp. His high rank was clear from his newer, well-fitting clothes, the delicate gold jewelry adorning his ears and neck, and the way he stood with his back straight and his shoulders relaxed. There was a large woodcutter's axe strapped to his back, and it gleamed in the morning light.
He didn't answer Muddybones's question, instead looking over at Taran and considering her expressionlessly. "You're no villager," he observed. "What's your name?"
The new guy made Taran stiffen. The scars, the weapons, the way he held himself… she angled her weapon closer to her body, ready to strike at any minute. This guy was trouble, she knew that much. "What makes you think I'm no villager?" She asked sweetly. "I did live with them, you know. Well, until you blew up the place."
She put her hands on her hips. "I'm not going to give my name out freely to random strangers, especially bandits who tried to take over this place and kill me." Her metal arm, the one holding the staff, clicked and whirred, the sound of machinery sounding. She smiled. It was not a nice smile. It was a promise, of death and destruction. "See if you can guess my name."
The man did not stir. "Well, it sounds to me like you're the goddess of death or something. I'm not too fluent in my mythologies, unfortunately, so I'll have to decline your game of twenty questions today." He put his hands in his pockets, making no move to attack. "We don't have to be enemies, kid. My name's Boar-back, and I'm the leader of this tribe. I'm just curious to know who you are and how you came to be such a good fighter, that's all."
(Gentle bump, no pressure or anything)
(Sorry, my dad took electronics away for the weekend.)
Taran mock sighed. "Pity. I so love guessing games. I could have tried to guess your name." She sniffed. "Couldn't you get a better name than that?" She twirled her staff around in a circle, resting her hand on her hip. "I go by Kali."
(oof, no worries)
"Kali? Hmm." Boar-back considered her for another moment. "So tell me. What's a skilled warrior like you doing in a humble place like this, Kali? It doesn't seem like you care much for the people here."
"I don't." Taran snorted. "They can all go to hell for all I care." She shrugged. "As for why I'm here, I don't see why it's any of your business. Now if that's all, I would like to go, please."
"That's not all, no." Boar-back studied the brightening sky for a minute. "Renzi?"
Another figure appeared, this one a younger man with neat dreadlocks. "We tested all the villagers, chief. Most of them didn't make the cut, but a few of them are decent fighters, and we kept the blacksmith like you asked."
"Good work. Take them and everything we found back to camp, we'll be right behind you." The bandit leader turned back to Taran then. "Why don't I cut you a deal, Kali. Come join us. Your talents are clearly too great to be wasted on these nobodies, and the rewards of our life are well worth it. We could use more accomplished, experienced people like you on our side."
"I know you could use me." Taran had easily molded back into the confident, arrogant fighter persona that she had been before. "I was one of the top lone fighters in the country, after all." She pursed her lips. "What would I get?"
"A position of power and relative safety in this hellscape, for one thing. Beyond that, the possibilities are vast. My tribe has superior numbers and an expansive territory, as well as a comfortable campsite and a good supply of food even during the winter. I've already snagged us the best doctor in the six nearest states, so don't worry about staying healthy. And I guarantee you'll never have to bow to someone below you just to survive, like these villagers do." Boar-back shrugged a shoulder. "Besides, good loyal fighters earn a larger cut of the loot we get from raids, and it seems to me you could easily fit that bill."
"I don't know," she said. She leaned on the staff, eying him with suspiscion. "How do I know you'll keep your promises? Most bandits I've met are less willing to share in the spoils."
Boar-back glanced at the other bandits present. "What do you guys think? Do I treat you fairly?"
Muddybones quickly nodded his head, as did the others. "Trust me, lady, the boss always keeps his promises. He's gotta be the most fair leader of any of the big five tribes! He even gives a share of the loot to the guys who're too useless to help out!"
"The way I see it," Boar-back said, "There's no point in commanding a group of warriors unless you can take good care of them. Join our group and I can guarantee you'll be treated well."
Taran's lips twitched at the bandit follower's words. "I see. I'll consider it. The question is, will I be allowed to leave, if I chose?" She was seriously debating it. This was fun. She had forgotten what it was like to be Kali again.
"Well, if you join, you are swearing complete loyalty to me," Boar-back replied casually. "And leaving the tribe without my permission would condemn you to death, once we hunt you down–which we would eventually. And once it's clear that you're one of us, no other tribe will welcome you, but frankly they're all trash anyway. So, to answer your question….no. But where else are you hoping to go? Don't tell me you have places to be?"
"I might, or might not. You never know." She shrugged. "I'm in, I guess. But I want a vacation every once in a while. Every year they stage the Fighter's Tournament, and I want to join this year, so I can't be bothered to rob during that time."
Boar-back tilted his head. "The Fighter's Tournament, huh? Never heard of that. When and where is it held exactly?"
"It's held in about four months. All the elite fighters are participating. It's a few miles from here, in one of the big cities that I can never remember the name of. It's in the east somewhere."
"Hmm. Sounds like the kind of stuff that might happen in a city. Well, I'll tell you what: join us, and I'll let you go to that tournament, provided you tell those city-slickers that you're one of us. Think you can do that without sullying my reputation?"
(Byo!)
"I guess." Taran quirked an eyebrow. "You seem to think that I'll lose." She shrugged. "That can't be helped. You haven't seen my full abilities yet. So, what do I do? Get down on one knee and pledge eternal loyalty or something?" She looked amused.
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