“In general, there were two kinds of people who fell into banditry. One type were poor people who were forced by circumstances beyond their means to resort to such methods to stay alive. They might be people who could not afford exorbitant taxes demanded by their lords, or unlucky farmers who suffered from poor harvests, people who had no choice but to turn to crime if only to keep their families and loved ones fed.
The other sort were people who thrived on the thrill and excitement of being more powerful than others and enjoyed treading on those they perceived to be weaker, often thinking it was their deity-given rights to do just that. Those people did not become bandits because they were forced to, but because they enjoyed inflicting suffering and violence upon others, almost like an addiction of sorts.
I tried to be merciful and lead those of the first kind back to a proper living when I could, should it be possible for them. For the latter sort however, they would not find any sympathy or mercy from my staff. A quick death was often more than they deserved anyway.” - Aideen deVreys, the Silver Maiden, circa 389 VA.
“Hey there, pretty lass, walking alone down these roads? That’s pretty unsafe!” said a burly middle-aged man with a shaggy beard who looked like he last bathed years ago. The way some horseflies flew around and occasionally landed on the man’s filthy hair further reinforced that impression and just made Aideen glad that the wind blew from behind her so she didn’t have to bask in his likely stench.
The filthy-looking man had accosted her roughly a couple hours after she had left the village, as she noticed the makeshift blockade on the road - merely a couple felled trees - that was manned by a crew od roughly twenty of the rough-looking sort, all of whom held weapons in hand.
She was not surprised to see the presence of banditry along the roads, as while they usually refrained from pilfering the already meager properties of the locals, some of the poorer gangs still demanded “road tolls” from passing merchants like the ones she saw right now. Aideen recalled that there was a small merchant caravan of merely three wagons in the village when she left, probably the intended target of this bunch.
“Aye, lass, this here road not be safe, we tell you!” said another ratty-looking scoundrel who was mostly skins and bones from besides the filthy man. The skinny one flicked a curved knife around with his hand as he looked at her in the way that made it look like he was trying to undress her with his eyes. “But for a wee bit of coins us brothers would happily escort ya along the way!”
“Worry not yer pretty head if ye got no cash in hand, girl,” said another, a tall, imposingly ugly one who looked as if someone had smashed his face into a rock, repeatedly, and left the mess to scar up and heal wrong. Much like the others, he had not disguised his lewd gaze either. “We’re all happy to accept… other forms of payment as well.”
“Oh, c’mon boss-man, can’t we just drag her over to the bushes and have our fun already?” asked another man with a large scar that almost diagonally bisected his face from beside the ugly one. The way the man held his spear hinted at some military training, one of the few amongst the bandits that showed such signs, as did the scars that adorn his arms and chest. “The last wench we brought home’s about to croak already, sure could use a fresh one.”
With how they leered at her with open lust in their eyes, Aideen had long concluded that these bandits were the sort who became bandits because they enjoyed the high they got when they trampled on those weaker than them. The way they talked of her like she was some object to be tossed around, and what they had likely done to other women also incensed her.
“I have a better idea,” said Aideen when one of the bandits approached her with hands that looked poised to grab at her in all sorts of appropriate places. Her all-too-calm response seemed to have surprised the bandits as they stared dumbly for a moment.
When she whipped out her black Adamant staff and struck the one that approached her right between his legs so hard she lifted the man off the ground, they finally snapped out of their momentary stupor. The man she struck right on the family jewels had curled up like a cooked shrimp by then, his hands clutching his crotch and his mouth opened wide in a silent scream. He was in so much pain he could not even muster the voice to scream.
“All of you can fucking go to hell, if they even take in filth like you,” she said as she whirled her staff around her. A couple of the bandits who regained their senses had loosed arrows at her which her staff struck away mid-flight, rendering them harmless. Their aim was so bad that she realized one of the arrows would not have even come close to hitting her even if she had not struck it away.
The skinny bandit from earlier was the first to charge at her with anger and impotent rage in his features. She just calmly parried his knife with her staff, and carried through the motion as her staff struck the outside of the skinny man’s right knee. The kneecap crumbled under her blow, and the skinny bandit screamed in pain as he leg gave out and he fell down to the ground.
Before his face could hit the ground, Aideen had kicked out with one leg, and her foot directly struck the skinny man’s long, beak-like nose hard and crunched it up into his face. She kicked him so hard his head snapped back violently at an angle his neck was definitely not designed to be in.
Aideen was not sure whether it was the kick driving bits of the man’s own skull into his brain or his likely broken neck that killed him, nor did she care one way or another.
“In general, there were two kinds of people who fell into banditry. One type were poor people who were forced by circumstances beyond their means to resort to such methods to stay alive. They might be people who could not afford exorbitant taxes demanded by their lords, or unlucky farmers who suffered from poor harvests, people who had no choice but to turn to crime if only to keep their families and loved ones fed.
The other sort were people who thrived on the thrill and excitement of being more powerful than others and enjoyed treading on those they perceived to be weaker, often thinking it was their deity-given rights to do just that. Those people did not become bandits because they were forced to, but because they enjoyed inflicting suffering and violence upon others, almost like an addiction of sorts.
I tried to be merciful and lead those of the first kind back to a proper living when I could, should it be possible for them. For the latter sort however, they would not find any sympathy or mercy from my staff. A quick death was often more than they deserved anyway.” - Aideen deVreys, the Silver Maiden, circa 389 VA.
“Hey there, pretty lass, walking alone down these roads? That’s pretty unsafe!” said a burly middle-aged man with a shaggy beard who looked like he last bathed years ago. The way some horseflies flew around and occasionally landed on the man’s filthy hair further reinforced that impression and just made Aideen glad that the wind blew from behind her so she didn’t have to bask in his likely stench.
The filthy-looking man had accosted her roughly a couple hours after she had left the village, as she noticed the makeshift blockade on the road - merely a couple felled trees - that was manned by a crew od roughly twenty of the rough-looking sort, all of whom held weapons in hand.
She was not surprised to see the presence of banditry along the roads, as while they usually refrained from pilfering the already meager properties of the locals, some of the poorer gangs still demanded “road tolls” from passing merchants like the ones she saw right now. Aideen recalled that there was a small merchant caravan of merely three wagons in the village when she left, probably the intended target of this bunch.
“Aye, lass, this here road not be safe, we tell you!” said another ratty-looking scoundrel who was mostly skins and bones from besides the filthy man. The skinny one flicked a curved knife around with his hand as he looked at her in the way that made it look like he was trying to undress her with his eyes. “But for a wee bit of coins us brothers would happily escort ya along the way!”
“Worry not yer pretty head if ye got no cash in hand, girl,” said another, a tall, imposingly ugly one who looked as if someone had smashed his face into a rock, repeatedly, and left the mess to scar up and heal wrong. Much like the others, he had not disguised his lewd gaze either. “We’re all happy to accept… other forms of payment as well.”
“Oh, c’mon boss-man, can’t we just drag her over to the bushes and have our fun already?” asked another man with a large scar that almost diagonally bisected his face from beside the ugly one. The way the man held his spear hinted at some military training, one of the few amongst the bandits that showed such signs, as did the scars that adorn his arms and chest. “The last wench we brought home’s about to croak already, sure could use a fresh one.”
With how they leered at her with open lust in their eyes, Aideen had long concluded that these bandits were the sort who became bandits because they enjoyed the high they got when they trampled on those weaker than them. The way they talked of her like she was some object to be tossed around, and what they had likely done to other women also incensed her.
“I have a better idea,” said Aideen when one of the bandits approached her with hands that looked poised to grab at her in all sorts of appropriate places. Her all-too-calm response seemed to have surprised the bandits as they stared dumbly for a moment.
When she whipped out her black Adamant staff and struck the one that approached her right between his legs so hard she lifted the man off the ground, they finally snapped out of their momentary stupor. The man she struck right on the family jewels had curled up like a cooked shrimp by then, his hands clutching his crotch and his mouth opened wide in a silent scream. He was in so much pain he could not even muster the voice to scream.
“All of you can fucking go to hell, if they even take in filth like you,” she said as she whirled her staff around her. A couple of the bandits who regained their senses had loosed arrows at her which her staff struck away mid-flight, rendering them harmless. Their aim was so bad that she realized one of the arrows would not have even come close to hitting her even if she had not struck it away.
The skinny bandit from earlier was the first to charge at her with anger and impotent rage in his features. She just calmly parried his knife with her staff, and carried through the motion as her staff struck the outside of the skinny man’s right knee. The kneecap crumbled under her blow, and the skinny bandit screamed in pain as he leg gave out and he fell down to the ground.
Before his face could hit the ground, Aideen had kicked out with one leg, and her foot directly struck the skinny man’s long, beak-like nose hard and crunched it up into his face. She kicked him so hard his head snapped back violently at an angle his neck was definitely not designed to be in.
Aideen was not sure whether it was the kick driving bits of the man’s own skull into his brain or his likely broken neck that killed him, nor did she care one way or another.
