Imenry Barras (imenry) wrote in thedas, @ 2010-01-03 22:24:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! thread, & 9:45 (4) eluviesta, @ imenry barras, @ thren canondais |
Backscene: Road to Redcliffe
Road to Redcliffe
Who: Imenry Barras, Thren Canondais
Where: Half a league from Redcliffe, merchant path
When: 9:45 Dragon; Two weeks ago
Summary: There were bandits on the pass and it would be more life-affecting a day than could have been known.
Rating: T for the non-director’s cut for suggestive language
Imenry
The road was nearly deserted, but the dirt was worn from repeated travel by wagons; traders, travelers and the like. It was nearing the warmest season for Ferelden, so the temperature was mild enough. Her furs were folded up and tucked carefully away in the pack over her shoulder. Imenry gazed out towards the shadowy shape of the mountains in the distance. Up ahead of her rose the red-colored cliffs of the similarly named town. It was still a good half-hour’s journey now, but she could see the vague silhouette and it made her relax a little. She had been on the road for days, traveling from Denerim. She’d made camp along the way of course, eaten what she could catch and forage, but she was ready for a real bed, no matter how cheap the inn, and some hard liquor to warm her belly.
Rolling her shoulders slightly Imenry started forward again, her sword thumping against her back with every step she took. She felt a chill down her spine and slowed her pace, drawing in a deep breath through her nose. The air was dry here, but she caught the scent of pine from the scattered trees. The shadows were lengthening in the late afternoon sun and she narrowed her eyes at a shiver of movement.
It was sudden that she was surrounded, and they were quiet- that she had to credit them for, as they slipped from the brush and the shadows and circled her. They wore leather, and it made a soft squeaking noise as they moved. She reached for the handle of the claymore over her back slowly, keeping her eyes on them as she tried to survey the situation. She was outnumbered, six to one, but she probably had skill and experience on most of them. Bandits tended to be sloppy.
The first one struck, coming at her with both blades glinting in the sunlight. She hefted the sword and blocked, metal clanging against metal and grit her teeth, shoving him back before she spun around, both hands drawing the claymore after her in a wide arc. It caught one man across the chest, red blood blooming out of the wound and spraying over Imenry as he cried out and dropped to the ground. She grunted slightly as one attacker's blade connected, scraping over her arm, and cutting through the fabric of her white linen shirt. It wasn't deep, but the blood slid down her arm in a warm river, winding through her fingers and over the grip of her sword. Her boots scuffed over the dirt road as she dodged another attack, swinging wide to drive the men back, angling herself so that her back was towards the high red cliffs and she was facing the five remaining bandits.
"Now you're in trouble honey. You cost us a man." One of the bandits sneered at her, a suggestive leer slipping over his scarred and sun-darkened face.
"Obviously not a good one," she replied, lifting a brow. "And besides, that's more of my money to split between the rest of you. If any of you survive."
Not wanting to waste another breath speaking she charged, a battle cry tearing from her and echoing against the cliffs. She brought her sword down on the first one before he even had time to wipe the sneer off his ugly face, metal crunching through bones and flesh and severing his head from his body in one fierce move. It toppled to the floor and for a moment the others simply stared, while Imenry glared at them, teeth bared and panting with breath, blood splattered over her face. Then they struck all of them moving at once, rushing her and she shifted to bring the blunt end of the sword down on the temple of one man, sending him down like a sack of potatoes. She kicked out with one leg, striking another as she danced back away from their attacks. One fist caught her in the jaw, and she tasted blood in her mouth, spitting as she shifted the sword in her arms again. Her left arm was aching now, a burning pain radiating through her muscles that told her that the gash she'd suffered earlier was more than just superficial. The blood on her hands was sticky and slippery and she adjusted her grip on the handle. A flutter of panic went through her but she tamped it down and raised her head to meet the gaze of her three remaining attackers.
Dragging her tongue across her lower lip she turned to meet the attacks as they came at her again, moving the heavy blade with as much speed as she could to block the fury of their knives and short swords. Blades nicked against her fingers and she grit her teeth to hold back a whimper of pain, slamming the heel of her boot down on the toes of one man. He cursed, hopping away from her and she flicked her wrist, bringing the sword down on another man, cutting deep in between his neck and shoulder. He cried in pain and she wrenched the sword free with force, sending him sprawling at her feet. She moved to turn on the other when someone grabbed her from behind, a strong muscular arm crossing over her torso and drawing her back against a firm body. She moved to kick him but there was the press of a knife against her throat and she stilled, swallowing.
"Drop the sword," he ordered, his breath hot against her ear and she wrinkled her nose at the smell, trying to turn away, but he held her firmly. She felt the prick of the blade at her neck and the small trail of blood sliding over the skin, tracing a path along her collarbone.