It was supposed to be a simple job, though in hindsight, perhaps the signs were there.
My day started, as always, with me entering the tavern in style, drinks in hand and bragging about the previous day's adventures, all of which inevitably ended in my victories, of course. The few other adventurers awake that early swarmed around me, asking for details and receiving them with many a guffaw. Some of them get a little too handsy, but well, who could blame them?
I mean, look at me! Seven feet of tanned and lithe glory; a little battle-scarred here and there, maybe, a bit lacking in feminine curves, some say. Fuck 'em, I say! Men don't want no dainty little maiden these days, it's all about being able to match 'em, in bed and on the battlefield, and in both categories, I gotta confidently state that I'm at the top. These muscles can rip an ox's head from its shoulders, these legs can carry me across the breadth of Morhaine, and these thighs can slam down on anyone brave enough to spend a night with me. I fight, drink, fuck, and repeat enough times every day you might as well say I'm the uncrowned queen of adventurers. A shot crop of distinctive green hair, proof of my half-elven heritage, marks me out of the crowd, though with all my tanned skin on display, most people who spot me can't look away.
It was in the middle of one of my rousing stories, specfically of how I lifted an ogre over my head and threw him into his criminal buddies, that one of the Adventurer Guild's runner came up to me, bearing a request with my name on it. Or so he says, cause I couldn't read the damn thing; don't know how anyone could ever figure out those little scribbles. Turned out, one of the local lords had a bandit problem and needed the specialized terror of my presence to scare them off.
How could I say no to that, huh? Bunch of gold for heading to a backwater province and beating some up-jumped ruffians? Not in my style to walk away from easy and fun money like that. So I strapped on the vambraces and legguards I use to protect my limbs and set off to the little town of Rivermeet, the furthest one north here in Morhaine. Met with the lord - not a very impressive guy, but with deep pockets. He even paid half my fee upfront, just like that; pulled it right out his damn pocket! Told me the place these bandits had set up last time they were a problem, and sent me off with some best wishes. The lack of lunch should have been the second warning, the first being someone wanting me to deal with ruffians. Me and bandits, same coin, different faces.
But it wasn't until I got to the hideout where I started thinking things were a bit unusual. They had been holed up in an old abandoned church - to which god, I didn't fucking care - but the signs of habitation were too clear. Bandits, some of them can be cocky yeah, but their strength is in moving around unseen. Only the largest and toughest crews leave signs behind, and most of the time, those signs are just traps to lure in idiots. This time, the idiot was me. I found the obivous trail they'd left behind and, still full of self-inflated pride that the job had been reserved for me, followed it up into the hills. Which leads me to now.
***
"Where the fuck did she go? Rob, you see her anywhere?" cried out the bandit chief, still clutching his broken ribs.
The crossbowman sitting on top of the boulder spat off to the side. "Nah, she's quicker than we were told, boss! I put two bolts in the bitch, and she's still running like crazy!"
I try to smirk, but it comes out as more of a grimace. This little alcove next to their new hideout is nicely shadowed at the moment, with the noon sun beating down on us and casting shadows all over the place. Not gonna last a whole lot longer, since I'm sure they'll start thinking soon enough, but it'll do for now. At least it gets me a good view of my last few enemies.
The chief leans against the boulder, trying to catch his breath and wiping his forehead with a blood-stained cloth. To either side are the only other survivors, a pair of bandits so similar to each other they must be brothers. They even got a pair of matching longswords. The crossbowman, whose name is apparently Rob, is still watching over the rocky gulch we're all in, but with so many boulders lying around he's not much help.
Damn good shot though, I can't help but bitterly admit, pain racing up my injured left leg. The other bolt's in my left arm, but is a lot easier to deal with since I snapped the protruding shaft. Four more men, and this job's all done. Or, well, the only real threat left is that crossbowman. He dies, the chief's not gonna be able to fight me with so many broken ribs, courtesy of the welcoming punch I gave him when he thought a pair of bolts were going to slow me down. Those two brothers are already hesitating to come looking for me, so I take out the main threat, they'll cut and run like most bandits do.
I peer at the ground between me and that bastard Rob. There's a pair of boulders I can use for cover, but if I got stuck between them by those two brothers, the crossbowman can just move and he'll get the perfect shot at me when I'm distracted. I focus on killing the two guards, maybe I can throw his aim off enough in the chaos, but it's three against one, even if their chief's crippled.
Damn, I really let my big mouth get ahead of me here, huh? One way or another, I'm leaving this job alive, if only so I can find that damn lord and punch his face clean off his skull. I flex my arms, feeling a bit weak after fighting through a dozen of these damn bandits in the last hour, then forced to play cat-and-mouse with those last four. Enough for one last good sprint, though. Only questions is, do I charge the swordsman and hope to overwhelm them before Rob shoots, or do I try to lure those brothers away?