A large brooding warrior, walked along a calm road in the woods. He stood in leather's and pelt, a large sword strapped to his hip. Splattered randomly across his body were large patches of blood. His hair hung loosely around his bearded face, some clinging to his face. His boots crunched against the rocky dirt beneath them with each step, his movement seemed to convey purpose as he walked. He had been walking for a long time, ignoring the world around him. It was only when he came to a fork in the roads that he was stopped. His path to Kalt had been confusing, several times he had been deterred by street rabble. He looked left and looked right, to his surprise a set of men rode down the right path. It appeared that there was a carriage in back surrounded by several horsemen. He drew his sword and stood in the road. The carriage stopped and two of the five riders rode forth. They didnt match uniforms, both wore random garments of clothing, and stray pieces of armor. Thieves by the look of it. They stopped about ten feet from him, their horses neighing angrily at being forced to stop abruptly.
"Stranger, lay down your weapons and we will let you pass," The skinnier one said. The fatter, taller one looked at his comrade and put a hand up to silence him. The skinny one tried to object but received another hand to shut him up.
"You gimme that sword or we cut you down right now," The plump one said with a smile, exposing a set of crooked teeth.
Loque held firm, his body stock still. He stared dead at the plump man. The crooked smile turned to one of anger before he spoke.
"You deaf?" He said a bit of spit coming from his mouth, "I said I want that fucking sword!"
"Dismount," Loque said. His eyes conveyed no malice or fear, his posture showed no sign of moving either. The fat man looked at his comrade and shook his head.
"Alright, but I warned you..." The fat man said throwing his leg over the side of his horse and dropping to the ground. Loque held his sword at his side and waited for the other man to draw his. The fat man reached across his stomach to draw his sword from his left with his right hand. Loque quickly brought his sword up and let its weight free from his grasp. The blade sailed through the air towards the fat man as Loque sprinted for the skinny man on the horse. The sword impaled the fat man through the stomach and caused him to fall, as he fell he grasped at his horse, it reared back in fear and neighed. Loque grabbed the skinny man by the leg as he reached for his own sword and ripped him from his stirrups. He was thrown to the ground and clearly landed in a bad way, it appeared that his shoulder came out of socket. Loque but his booted foot on the mans shoulder and put his weight on it. The man screamed and then a crack was heard and the man began to roll. Loque walked over to the fat man and pushed his horse over to get it out of the way. He grabbed the hilt of his sword and twisted as he tore it from the fat man's stomach. The man grumbled as his life faded. Loque crossed over to the injured man and turned him upwards with his foot. He then proceeded to swing low and through the mans neck, cutting deep into his throat.
The three remaining horsemen had begun riding towards Loque the instant he threw the skinny man from his horse. They rode forward, two had swords drawn and the other wielded an axe. He swung it up and through the air in a circular motion. Loque began walking slowly towards them and watched as the first two dismounted, the third stayed back and paced his horse back and forth on the road. Loque twirled his sword through the air taking wide side steps, each time his foot hit the ground the other would be in the air. He shifted his weight on to the foot he stepped on, building momentum. The riders ran at him, one came in with his sword raised. The other stayed fairly behind. When the man got about five feet from Loque, he used his built up momentum and dropped to a knee on the left side of the man. The man slammed into Loque's knee and stumbled.
"Bastard," The man exclaimed as he began to recover. His friend saw this as the perfect opportunity to move in. The first man came in with a downward slash while the other rushed with his sword aimed forward. Loque brought his sword up in order to block the first man's attack and felt the edge of the other mans blade scrape his side. He angled his sword so that the first man's blade slid off to the side and rolled out of the way of the second mans sword. He had barely a moment before the first man rushed back at him, with his sword high. Loque saw the open spot, and brought his sword from the dirt and through the mans chest. The blade did not pass all the way through however, it was stuck through his ribcage, lodged against the sternum. Loque would not have time to pull the blade out before the next man came at him again. He held the hilt of his sword and used it to shift the corpse's weight to the side, the body fell limply to the dirt.
"Raaaaaaaagh!" The second man shouted as he rushed forward swinging his sword wildly. Loque reached to his belt and drew one of the 4 small knives it held, he quickly flicked his wrist and arm throwing it into the mans throat. Loque stood as the man began to fall to his left and grabbed the handle of the knife, the blade cut through the right of the mans neck as he grasped for life. Loque tucked the knife back into his belt and watched as the man with the axe rode for him. The man wore a bucket helm, his right arm was armored and in his left he swung the axe. The man kicked his spurs and the horse sped up. Loque let the horse practically run into him before tucking his shoulder and flipping it over himself. The rider was crushed under it's weight, after some of the horses kicking and bucking the man fell from his stirrups. Loque walked over to him and saw that his chest had been caved in, through his helmet a rasping sound could be heard. Loque walked over and knelt next to the man. He grabbed his helm and pulled it off the mans head.
"Where is Kalt?" Loque said looking down at the man. His voice was calm, there was no threat in it. The man knew his death was near he would be foolish to keep the information from him.
"D...Day's ride... back the way we came..." The man said between labored breaths, "Mercy... end this..."
Loque stood, he walked over to his sword and pried it from the mans chest. Blood had dripped down the blade and some of the dirt from the road stuck to it. He walked over to the crushed man and lazily drove the point of the sword through the mans throat. Loque now turned his attention to the carriage. It had been still this entire time, the driver wasnt anywhere to be seen. Loque walked over to one of the horses that had been pacing and reached for its reins. The beast kicked its feet and took a few steps back, Loque put his sword behind his back and held his left hand up to calm the beast. It whinnied as he inched his hand forward, he firmly but gently patted its long face and grabbed its reins.
He held it and walked to the side of it. He raised his right leg into the stirrup and thew himself up and onto the saddle. He kicked his boots into the horses sides and it began trotting towards the carriage. As he rode up he checked the treeline on either side of the carriage, there was no one under the carriage, it seemed as if they'd retreated inside. When Loque got close he dismounted his horse and approached the carriage. He sheathed his sword and walked past the horses, they were relatively still as he passed, though he was soaked in red and smelled of death. He walked to the side and saw the door, the sun barely shown into the windows on either side of the door. He stepped forward and opened the door, for a moment it was quiet. Loque heard the sound of a crossbow trigger tensing and ducked out of the way, he heard swish as the arrow cut through the air where his neck had just been. He threw himself back through the door before whoever it was inside had time to react and or reload. His hands reached out and grabbed the first thing they could. He grasped cloth and pulled the man out by his hood. He threw the man to the dirt below and set upon him, striking with his bare fists, knocking teeth loose and pounding until the man stopped squirming beneath Loque's weight. Loque stood and walked back to check inside the carriage. He saw nothing but what looked like equipment to set up a fairly large camp. The carriage had no insignia on it, no idea of whom it could have belonged to previous these bandits. He walked back to the horse had calmed earlier and climbed on top of it. He rode down the dirt trail, towards Kalt. He knew there was glory to be had by the guilds of Kalt, and no man could deter him from claiming his glory.
