RPG Archives Maelstrom of Fate - Rankan Empire: Where You Always Rank Higher Than Someone Else.

Alexis the Knife.

Perhaps not a well-known name outside of the small village where he grew up, but Alexis preferred it this way. It meant that all that had met him hadn't lived to tell the tale.

He liked tales though. Somehow, tales always made the people in them seem more heroic than they had actually been. The hero that slayed the goliath or the dragon was usually just trying to save himself, or was doing the job that nobody else would for monetary compensation.

Not that he minded. He'd done jobs for monetary compensation. At 21, he'd seen a lot of things that would make lesser men weak at the knees. Having grown up as an orphan, he never had the best of anything, and always had to fight for a place in the world.

He was still wandering, looking for his place in the world.

The area he was in now wasn't a terrible place.

The trees were close together, and had many leaves, making camouflage relatively easy. The road had a dip in it that made it easily defendable from above, and perfect for a sneak attack from below, if the timing were right. There was a nice dry cave about fifteen feet into the underbrush, and a quick running stream ran far enough from the road to keep it clean, but close enough for convenience.

Alexis was staying in the cave off the side of the road. He didn't have very many belongings, and what he had earlier picked up on his travels had long been sold for necessary supplies. Hunting and snaring and gathering berries was all fine and dandy, but a man needed more than just that to live properly.

He would need more supplies soon. He hid the signs of his encampment and decided to go pick up supplies right then. He walked the short distance to the road and set off at a steady pace.

He heard the wheels of a cart knocking loose pebbles and rocks around on the road ahead. Just his luck. Some sort of travelers when he was trying to get supplies. Travelers were nosy, especially when traveling by this road. It wasn't one of the main roads. Even if the people going by this road were personal business of some sort, they sure loved to be privy to the personal business of others.

Unless they were bandits. If they were bandits, Alexis would have to fight.

It was probably one or the other. He gripped his blade tightly, holding it overhand in a striking position.

The cart continued to rumble down the road and finally appeared. The cart was a cart in the roughest sense of the word. Two boards seem to hold the entire structure together, and it had a gaggle of rough-looking men sitting around in it, one of them at the front, driving the horses.

Alexis gave a low growl in his throat. The men spotted him. They stopped the cart. So it was bandits. He should have expected it.

The men left the cart. "Well! You look like you could spare these poor travelers some coin! Let's see the colour of your metal then? Coppers, is it? Silver? Gold?"

The man was too close for comfort. Alexis gave a smile and brought his blade to the man's throat. "This is the colour of my metal. I do hope you like it."

"Oi! This one's got a bit of spirit, it seems!" said the man, his voice rising an octave as he tried to sound confident.

"Coward." He pressed the blade into the man's throat, just enough to draw blood.

"Get him!" The men rushed forward. Alexis took a quick count. One, two, three, four, and five, not counting the one under his knife. He liked those odds.

Alexis kept his blade where it was. "No. Get back onto your cart and keep going. It would be safest for your friend's life and I'll warrant that your friend agrees with me."

 

Rovas was a well-accomplished bandit by anyone else's word. He's been doing his job for fifteen years, yet everybody that lived (and thusly worked for him) after encountering him knew him only as 'boss', nothing else. It was a very amusing thing, to say the least.

He's been living as a bandit ever since the young age of 15. He didn't really care for his religiously fanatical parents who pushed rules and such in his face every time. No, he had ran away.

And he didn't realize how hard it was to live alone until he faced it himself. But, he adapted anyway. He was human, and his survival instinct drove him to live. Since then, he realized that he had quite a leadership ability, and fighting in the streets have given him quite the finesse in swordsmanship - actually, DOUBLE swordsmanship. It was something he revered.

Pleased at his development, he eventually turned to higher things than simple pickpocketing and street fighting. He traversed the pits to increase his blade skills, and he began a band of bandits to terrorize the people. Amazingly, he had done well in both. It is quite surprising, the success of Rovas.

But it has been long before that time now. Rovas now had quite the force for looting the carriages - he was living quite the life, and he has proven to be a capable leader of his subordinates. His past life had escaped from his mind as he managed his current one. He had performed many murders and other underhanded acts to gain his current position, and he wasn't about to lose it because of earlier bad habits.

Today, he was making trips around a city with carriages that show more and more damage and poverty - a thing that he performed himself, of course. Taking money from 'borrowing' it from 'potential investors', he now had a formidable amount of gold in his coffers, the location of which is only known to himself.

Rovas thought now with a bemused grin as this man tangled with the decoy that he'd sent. Drawing his blades and noting the sight of resignation in the decoy's eyes as satisfactory, and as the others drew their weapons, he spoke. "Well well. It seems that you can fight. I do not think that it is wise, however, for you to use him as a 'hostage'." He said this with a bemused tone as he advanced with the rest. The hostage gave no sign of protest, but a dagger thrust went forward from the hostage's form as he gave an attack to surprise.

[Elsewhere]
Bellinger thought that it was a decent day for a ride. After all, the sun aws shining, something that hadn't happened in weeks. He let the breeze of the air run through his hair as he charged across the fields on his stallion. His armor, something which would have appalled other riders, clinked almost soundlessly on his form as he rode, him controlling the horse with admirable calm. It was a simple patrol, but he made to enjoy it.

 

Alexis was considering his options as speedily as he could.

"Well well. It seems that you can fight. I do not think that it is wise, however, for you to use him as a 'hostage'."

Alexis jumped back from the attack, dragging his hostage with him. "Not a hostage, eh?"

Had he saved the man from that last attack just to kill him? Was he so heartless?

Yes.

He slit the man's throat swiftly, drawing his blade across his throat. It was an act that proved he wasn't all talk.

"If you get back on your dung cart, we can both leave in relative peace. Minus one worthless sack of meat, of course."

He wiped his blade on the dead man's shirt. Killing always made him sick to his stomach, but he wouldn't show such a weakness.

Despite what people thought, he hadn't killed very many people in his life.

"So then, what say you? Can we go our ways?"

 

Rovas laughed out loud. That bastard killed one of his valued decoys, and now sought for a stalemate and to walk off? What a fool he was. "So, you kill one of our men, and yet you still think you can get away without... 'contributing' to the charity? You live in a world of dreams and heavens, my friend..." His face tensed, as his mouth turned into a cruel sneer. "...unfortunately, this is not that world."

The four men who was with Rovas advanced forward with in-and-out lunges while Rovas drew yet another blade before entrying the fray.

 

Alexis picked up the body, exposing him to attack. A blade sliced his shirt open, revealing the plate armor beneath it. He threw the body at the four that were still approaching. "I had planned on using him as more of a human shield, but this'll do."

He stepped backwards, away from his opponents. "I don't believe in charity...Especially not the ugly robbers' fund. Dreams and heavens? What are those?"

He rolled forward, coming up with his blade raised, aiming for one of the minions' gullet.

 

That minion promptly jumped back with a sneer from what he thought was a sword - longer than it really was. Over-estimation was always better than under-estimation, he had been told from day one by Rovas, and by now he had it in his head like an inscription upon a bible. He lunged forward with the others at the same time, scraping Alexis in several places, aiming to disable, not kill. It would be quite a shame if they had to have a kill attributed to them.

 

Alexis stumbled, trying to keep to on his feet. If he fell, he'd be even more vulnerable. He gave a low growl in his throat, and an almost cat-like hiss followed.

He pointed his blade to the side, several phantasmagorical ideas occuring to him. There was no way any of them would work though, was there? He stabbed outward, following the stab by a continuous slash. Then he tripped, and waited for the men to fall on him. His gold was well-hidden on his person. They could probably search him without finding it, he supposed. But what if they killed him, or took his weapon away? That, he could not abide.

He scrabbled away in an animal-like fashion.

All taunts left him. First, survival, then mockery.

 

A kick from Rovas prompted the now-quite-dead meat shield to absorb the blows that came from Alexis. And when the trip and the subsequent scrabbling away came, several yelled commands prompted 2 minions to spring after Alexis while the other two and Rovas took the horses of the carriage off of their cables and mounted them. It didn't look good for Alexis.

[Elsewhere]
Bellinger stopped his stallion with a strong pull on the reins, and turned it left to gaze upon movement in the area. He couldn't quite get a clear view yet, but he could see at least four figures moving. He wondered why they were on such the uncommon road, and watched.

 

Alexis rose, trying to look a little less like a wild animal. He'd have to fight, and if they were using cavalry, those horses would run him down faster than a rabbit chased by hunting dogs.

They would soon be done getting those horses ready, but in the mean time, he had these other two lackeys to deal with. Were these simple bandits? He couldn't be sure. It seemed that there was no way to part on friendly terms. He would not allow himself to be hassled.

He gripped his blade tightly, the point upwards. His opponents were guarding well. He had to strike quickly or it would all be over for sure, instead of just possibly. He raised his blade and made as if to strike one of the men in the head with his blade. When the man raised his arms to defend, Alexis stabbed him in the stomach. He was unsure of where the blade struck, but he withdrew quickly, walking guardedly. Would the man die? He would probably still have some fight left in him.

There was no way he could win this. He didn't have a horse to face his opponents on. Still, he would fight.

Fighting like this reminded him of his childhood, spent at fisticuffs with the other children in the village. The nostalgia made him sick to his stomach.

 

Alexis' feint managed to catch the minion off guard, for, even as the minion deflected the blade, he could not stop its course into his torso. He shouted with barely-suppressioned pain as the blade cleanly slid within the torso - Alexis could feel with surprising reality as it pierced through not only flesh. As he retreated from that attack, his left calf exploded in pain as the second minion's downward slash, meant for the chest, moved more of a distance down than expected, taking him a split second to recover. The sound of hooves could be heard in the distance.

[Elsewhere]
Bellinger grunted. The odds were obviously not fair, one way or another. And it usually wasn't a fair battle when even odds are thrown out the window. Also, judging by the uniforms of those ruffians and the way which they seemed to have come from, they sure did not look like guards - more like bandits. He rode forward, lance shimmering in the light.

 

Alexis bit his lip. The blood was flowing freely through the cloth of his garb.

He heard the approaching horses, thinking the noise far too faint for it to be the bandits. He raised his blade guardedly, staying defensive. He made no move to touch his wound. There was no use in touching it and maybe causing infection...Not that his opponent's blade was any kind of clean.

No help seemed to be coming so he had to continue to do his best. He would have to wait for his opponent to make another move; it was the only thing to do...but the horses were coming...

Alexis muttered a mild oath, his mind racing.

 

The first minion lay bleeding on the floor, muscles contracting, curling and twitching like a dying rat. He tried to stand, but couldn't. He tried to speak, but he could not. He tried to crawl away, but he lacked the energy. Soon, blood loss would rob him of his life. The second minion aimed a similar feint on Alexis, and he expected it - until he discovered it was a multiple feint. A matching wound soon appeared at Alexis' right calf, with a matching explosive pain. At that time, the horses drove close... to meet a flying second minion as a stallion bashed the second minion directly into a minion horse, sending both reeling back. The other two horses hesitated, but, on their owner's insistance, charged on. Bellinger faced and nodded to Alexis, a gesture of many words conveyed by none, and then dropped his lance, unsheathing sword and taking shield from the side of the horse.

 

Now with blood running down both his legs, Alexis thought it a miracle that this man on horseback had appeared. With his teeth gritted against the pain, all Alexis could manage was a curt nod back at the man, before he limped back to re-examine the situation. His calves hurt in a dull, pounding manner.

The second minion was taken care of, but could this man and his horse manage the other two before they reached him? He wondered at the best way to defend. He dropped to his knees and raised his blade, wishing that he'd brought the other one along with him. If the horses reached him, he would aim for their sensitive underbelly and try to avoid their smashing hooves. It was a desperate ploy, and one that was very unlikely to be met with any success, but it was all he could think of.

 

As the minion and the cavalry minion fell, at least 20 feet away, perhaps more, and not moving, Bellinger clashed with Rovas and the other minion. He was doing great first, on the offensive, rarely using the shield, but Rovas gained the advantage, and a skilled observer could see that Rovas, though a bandit, was a skilled bandit. He knew to take advantages, to use anything possible - he had no restrictions given by honor. Soon, Bellinger was parrying the sword of the minion while using the shield to fend off Rovas' many slashes.

 

The bandit leader, whatever his name was, was now engaged in combat with Alexis' savior. Alexis exhaled, took a deep breath, took his courage, and dashed towards the horse. He sliced at the horse's hamstrings, hoping to debilitate it.

"Who are you? Why help?"

Alexis continued his assault, also hoping to distract the horse and rider; there was no way he could take them down on his own.

He wasn't complaining, he was just in search of answers.

 

Alexis failed in hamstringing the horse, as, since the horse didn't need to move much in the close combat, it could fend it self. It kicked out at Alexis while Rovas still managed to adapt to the changing surfaces of the horse. At that time, Bellinger, with a particularly strong attack, smashed the minion's sword straight out of his hands and into the hindquarters of his horse, who promptly went insane and rode forward like a wild bull, fortunately not trampling Alexis over. Turning more offensive attention to the leader now, he spoke one word. "Honor."

 

The horse's hoof struck Alexis squarely in the chest, and he flew backwards, landing a few feet away.

"Honor."

That was what the rider had said. And he was gaining. The horse had gone wild, and the man could finish off the leader of the bandits relatively easily.

Alexis was scared for infection in his newly received wounds, but was not looking forward to cauterizing the wounds. He would buy some sort of strong drink at market, and use it to clean the wounds.

Now, soon it would be time to thank his rescuer. Hopefully, not too much monetary compensation would be in order.

 

Alexis' assumption was soon deemed wrong, as Bellinger's sword and shield matched Rovas' double blades one by one, neither gaining or losing. The shield, however, already had a good amount of cuts on it, evident from Bellinger trying to fend off the frenzy fighter with only the shield. Rovas slashed on with reckless abandon that still seemed to be backed by clear thought and an eye for weaknesses, and soon Bellinger found himself on the defensive again.

 

Alexis saw that the man was now losing ground, and decided to try a desperate act. It was one that only had about a 1 in 50 chance of success. He gripped his blade by the tip, and launched it at Rovas' head. It careened towards him speedily, and Alexis closed his eyes, hoping it would find its mark, or at least not miss him completely. He had confidence in his skills, and Rovas wasn't moving around too much, but there was always doubt. Mistakes could easily be made.

 

The thrown knife catches the eye of Rovas, and as he moves to dodge it, his guard is down. Bellinger, quite the accomplished duelist himself, takes that advantage as Rovas has taken his, and scores a slash down the arm. Rovas yells at the pain, but miraculously his hand keeps grip. He glared at Alexis with rage-filled eyes as his horse blasted past Bellinger and went to retreat, in a path of which Alexis was in the midst of...