You are about to shoot another arrow at them, but decide against it. Maybe you can trick them.
You stand up, putting on a pitiful face. "Sorry, m'sir, I didn't mean to shoots ya... But now my favorite arrow's all done and snapped!"
The man with the armor approaches you, a long, curved sword drawn. Some sort of cavalry saber, and of an exquisite quality. He has anger etched upon his face, a cold air lurking behind his eyes. Something tells you he doesn't care.
"I cant affords many arrows, m'sir, is there any way youze can give me some com-pen-sat-ions?" You say with what you hope is the accent of some 'poor hunter'. You take a step back, but the man continues to advance quickly, not speaking.
Suddenly, you feel a breeze pass underneath your chin, and the feeling of cold steel being bared against your exposed throat. The man presses the saber forward just-ever-so-gently, drawing a faint bead of blood.
"Get lost, you miserable sack of shit." He says, speaking in a low, gravelly voice. "Or you will lose the head, not that you use it that much, with such a poor excuse."
You don't need to be told twice. You turn tail and run. This is a crushing defeat for you, but it was mostly bad luck to rob such an armed traveler. It was a shame your arrow didn't penetrate, however. You might need to get better ones.
After a few minutes of running, you turn back towards the road. The armed man and his friend are nowhere to be seen. You scratch at your neck, trying to wipe away the small amount of blood as you think about what you should do next.
Should you continue to rob travelers, head into the city, or do some other bandit-y deed?
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Topic: You are a medieval bandit! (Read 2739 times)