3rd of Winter 516
"Petch it all!" Cursed Bronwen for the 20th time that bell, crumpling a hastily drawn map in her fist. She had been in Zeltiva for less than a day and found nothing but how to get utterly lost. She wondered if the little snot, that drew her the map, hadn't intended it that way.
She put a hand behind her shoulder, pulled her short bow over her head, placed it on a rock, and rotated the quarterstaff around her hip and sat, extending her long legs out over the surface of the rock. The view was quite nice, what she could still see of it, anyway. The sun was sinking down, giving the water in the distance a dark blue-purple hue, and a early winter breeze made the surface of the water ripple, glistening here and there in the failing light. She was loosing that light quickly, but needed to rest and gather herself.
The cool breeze swept back her long, chestnut hair from her shoulders, as grey eyes flicked over the map, again. The thing was useless, now. The wrinkles in the paper made it impossible to read. With a sigh, she crumpled it tighter and tossed it into the rock bed below her, giving a muttered curse for the lost coppers she had paid for it.
"Ya look lost, Lass" The husky, accented, voice came from behind her. Bron started, legs twisting around. She caught herself before rocking sideways off her rock.
The man was tall, thin, and completely hairless, and covered head to toe in a dull, grey cloak, hood down. He had a nice enough smile across his face, but Bronwen was not impressed. She narrowed her eyes. "I am not" she lied, sliding to her feet, pulling her bow behind her. "I'm waiting on my husband." She added, thinking fast. She watched the man's eyes scrutinize her form and considered pushing past him, until another form materialized from the deepening shadows and stepped up to the stranger's side. This man was just as tall as the other, but thicker, more muscled, with short black hair and a black, close-shaven beard. The rest of his form was shadowed, but he also wore a long cloak. Maybe a uniform of some kind.
"Nay, Lass." the man exchanged a look with his friend. "Cap'n and me, we a'been watchin' Ya and you be askin' bout the Grotto for the last bell, eh?"
Bronwen stood stiff, silent, heart pounding in her chest, and the bow in her hand trembled. How could she have been so stupid?
She had a lot to learn.
"Come now sweet..." Captain said, rounding the bald man, making to take a step forward, but froze, still in mid step. As soon as the man flinched to move, Bron's left hand brought the bow forward, as her right hand snatched an arrow from behind her left shoulder, nocked it, and pulled the fletching past her ear, aiming straight at Captain's forehead. She would have been proud of the speed in which she'd moved -possibly the fastest she had ever moved- had she not been shaking so badly that she was having trouble holding the bowstring back.
"Don't!" she yelled, stepping back, pulling harder on the string. The bald man held his hands up, palms out. "Ah, Lass, we mean ya' no harm now." He said. Then, he nodded off to her right. "He might, though"
Before Bron had the chance to even process what the bald man meant, a flash of metal came around her line of vision and slashed through her bowstring. The string popped, rebounded, and carved an inch long, bloody line across Bron's cheek. The arrow flew from the cut string and skidded along the ground, coming to a stop, harmlessly, several paces in front of her feet. Strong arms came around her shoulders, but she ducked out from beneath them, and, using the same momentum, slung the hard, wooden bow around in an arch. It made contact with a satisfying crack against the side of the mans head. He staggered back, but kept his feet, then lunged for her.
Bron turned to run, but strong arms closed around her chest from behind, pinning her in place. The bearded man took three long steps forward, and planted a fist in her middle. She bent over the blow, all air in her lungs suddenly gone, along with the contents of her stomach. The man holding on to her let go, and she fell to her hands and knees, still retching. The three men laughed.
As she coughed and gagged, struggling to catch the escaped air, the brutes encircled her. Panting, Bron got a foot under her, then another, and slowly stood, swaying. She rotated her feet, looking to each man in turn, just as her father had taught her to do. The third man was cloaked similarly, but hooded -needing more stealth to slip in behind someone- and Captain were standing closer together, more to her rear. To her front, between her and the road leading back into the city and escape, stood Baldy. Her target, the most threat, and obviously the leader.
She turned until she was flanked by the men; new guy and Captain to her right, and Baldy to her left, opposite her line of strength and strongest side. She pulled the seven foot long quarterstaff from behind her shoulder, even as the men laughed. "Ohhh, better look out! Sweet has a stick!" One of them taunted. The one called Captain she thought. "C'mon, Lass, we just want a lil fun, tis all" This from Baldy.
Her staff came free, both hands moving down its length to grip on either side of the grooves she knew to be the middle, left hand wrapped tightly around the top of the shaft, right hand beneath it. She waited. Baldy shifted his weight and she attacked.
Bronwen pivoted on her left heel and thrust her right foot forward, slamming the quarterstaff, just above her right hand, into the side of Baldy's head, with all her upper body strength. As soon as the staff hit home, she reversed her momentum, turning full circle, grips reversing, elbows straightening. Her body stooped and the quarterstaff slashed through the air, just above the ground, taking Baldy's legs out from beneath him. The man hit the ground with an audible "oof!" and didn't get up.
Bronwen reversed her momentum, yet again, and turned, throwing out her staff for the second man, but she was too slow. The man caught the staff in both hands, and yanked. Bron slammed into the man's chest. It was Captain. She could smell inebriation all over him. She screamed. He slammed an open hand into her temple. Bron felt the world spin, then, felt her back hit the ground. She screamed again, but Captain was on top of her, mouth probing her neck, hand scrambling to cover her mouth. The other man, the third one, was above her head, holding her arms down, grinning evilly down at her. She felt lips brush her ear. "Nobody's go'n ta help ya, bitch! Shut up! She forced her face away from the voice.
Her eyes fell down the length of the road and to a figure standing there, watching. A woman? Bron forced her head one way, then back the other, and her mouth came free. "HELP ME!" she roared. Captain struggled to clamp down on her mouth again. She felt her blouse being ripped open, fingers fumbling with the belt at her pants. "Please! Help!" She managed, before a meaty hand closed over her mouth, again. She bit down until teeth met teeth. "PLEASE!" She managed. Then she screamed, as Captains fist came down.
The world went black.