You briefly consider storming off toward the camp, but an even better plan crosses your mind and you smile in delight. Your hold around the bandit's shirt tightens and you draw sword from your belt.
"Today's a bad day to be a bandit!" you proclaim. His expression changes to one of shock -- more than before. With one swift motion, you cleave his head from his body, and it tumbles to the ground. You release your grasp on his shirt, his body dropping and crumpling into a pile. You levitate the head beside you and jog back to the merchant.
He's curled up into a ball whimpering, still. Something about blood and gore and what have you. Well, it's none of your concern, really. You search around for five bandit corpses only to find that they're scattered all around. Some bisected, some trisected. Some of their heads aren't even in one piece anymore. Entrails spill out all around you, so you decide to improvise. Jamming what bits of brain you can find back into the chunks of skull, you tie several pieces together with a bandit's intestines. As an added bonus, it's likely this'll explode on impact!
Having rounded up six heads, you spin them around slowly, careful not to drop them, and start your voyage toward the camp. The rain washes away most of the blood and mud you're coated in, though it makes walking admittedly rather difficult. You pass by trees and dilapidated shacks, all rotting under the rain's nonstop assault. The camp draws ever nearer!
Soon, you can feel the people inside. There are at least thirty, most in buildings hastily thrown together, clearly built from looted merchant's carts. A crate full of alcohol sits outside one of the larger lean-tos, covered with a tarp. You hear laughing and chuckling and the sound of a fire crackling, refusing to give in to the onslaught of rain.
You take your six heads, balancing them carefully -- you float them over to the cap, dancing them around the fire. You move their mouths, open their eyes, flutter them around, through the air! Most of the bandits are inside, but one seems to notice your strange display. He rushes over, perplexed. When he finds the heads of the raiding party sent out just hours ago, he bellows uncontrollably. Maybe he knew one of the guys?
The rest of the bandits sprint out, some awed by this macabre display. You force the heads to bob faster, spin faster, twirl around. You move their jaws forward and back, up and down, bringing them closer and closer to the fire! Two of them collide in a slurry of gore, spraying the audience with brain matter! Some bandits keel over and vomit, but the show continues! You begin to batter those looking on, smashing into them with the skulls! It does little to harm them, but they try in vain to fight it off. While they're occupied with the dismembered heads, you point your swords in their direction and let them fly.
They coast through the air so elegantly, you'd swear they were designed for this sort of movement! The three swords impact three different bandits, impaling them through the chest! You back them up, then stab again and again. The bandits still standing search for their unseen aggressor (you've taken to hiding in the bushes) while your swords continue to stab. You tire of this repetitive, ugly attack, falling back once again to your spinning blades of doom. You spin them around, cleaving through cartilage and calf and sinew and sirloin, through bone and brain and meat and muscle! You clove some of them asunder, their blood splashing onto the once stalwart fire. It extinguishes, unable to hold its ground against this vicious flurry and flood of blood.
As the corpses of his underlings litter the ground, at last the man you presume to be Simon Leishman enters the field. You rise from the bushes and return your blades to your belt.
"And who might you be? You've slaughtered my highwaymen and made a mess of my camp. What is your motive!?" he shouts, violence clearly resonating throughout his voice.
You feel the familiar texture of a steel blade slung across his back. It might be a battleaxe. You also feel something... different about this man. He's stronger than the others. You should probably be careful if you attack him.
Status: Soaked again, coated in mud. And blind. Have a 'thing for swords'.
Abilities: Telekinetic. Can lift small objects and also swords. Swordsmage. Can hear the whispers of the blades and maybe cast some magic. You think you've forgotten most of the magic you learned, though. Can 'feel' the surroundings (this replaces vision and is unaffected by darkness.)
Inventory: Three swords hang from your belt. You also have a rope.
Author
Topic: Raleigh Crane: Wandering Blind Telekinetic Female Swordsmage (Read 14686 times)