Ambush

The day began with a cool, sombre dawn, the sun's first light timidly painting the city. Argon sat in their apartment, his sturdy frame hunched over his new blade, the coarse grinding stone methodically sliding along the weapon's edge. His focus was palpable, a tangible force that set the tone for the tense morning.

Across the room, Brolan meticulously examined his armaments, the throwing spikes and his short sword. His hands, though calloused and rough, moved with careful precision, ensuring each would do damage, primed for their imminent strike.

Argon's voice cut through the silence, each word deliberate and heavy with purpose. "Hard. Fast. Silent." he said, summarizing their plan in three simple yet profound words.

Brolan couldn't help but let out a mischievous chuckle. "Sounds rather... erotic, doesn't it?" he remarked; the idiot could think for himself, after all.

Leaving the confines of their apartment, they carefully navigated the city, blending with the shadows and merging with the stone facades until they were no more than ghosts in the early morning mist. Their destination was the sprawling highway that connected Duskhaven to the outer world, a vibrant artery pulsating with life and activity.

Nestled within the cover of dense foliage near the highway, they waited. The air around them hung heavy with anticipation as they observed the sparse flow of merchants, traders, and travellers along the bustling thoroughfare. The highway was a vibrant mosaic of life, an ever-changing scene of diverse people, each absorbed in their own world.

As Argon and Brolan watched from their hidden vantage point, a rumbling of dust in the distance caught their attention. Emerging from the haze were four riders, their steeds laden with an air of menace. The riders wore patchwork armour, some pieces well maintained and gleaming under the sun, others rusted and hanging loosely from their bodies. The leader of the pack, a brute with a thick beard and a scar running down one eye, rode a large black horse, his imposing presence striking an immediate chord of fear amongst the passersby. The others, lean and hungry-eyed, wore predatory smiles as they scanned the crowd.

A merchant driving a cart laden with goods was the unfortunate target of their attention. A man of middling years, his thinning hair sprinkled with grey and his eyes wide with fear, he attempted to urge his horse onward, hoping to outpace the imminent danger. However, his efforts proved in vain as the bandits swiftly closed in on him.

"Oi, old man," the bandit leader's voice boomed over the bustle of the highway. His tone was light, but the underlying threat was clear. "Fancy giving us a look at your goods?"

The merchant stammered, "My goods... I... I've nothing of value, I swear!"

The bandit leader's smile widened. "Well, let's see about that," he said, dismounting his horse and approaching the cart.

The other bandits circled the cart, their hungry eyes scanning over the array of goods, their malicious laughter echoing off the road's dusty surface. The merchant's feeble protest was drowned out by their revelry, his pleading eyes meeting the hardened gaze of the bandit leader.

With a swift move, the bandit leader ripped open a sack, revealing a cluster of shimmering silks. His laughter echoed through the air, sending a shudder down the spines of the onlookers. "I reckon we hit the jackpot, boys!"

The robbery was swift and brutal, a sickening display of power and intimidation. As the bandits rode off, the leader tossed a single copper coin at the trembling merchant, his laughter still lingering in the air. "For your troubles," he said with a cruel grin, disappearing into the forest.

As Argon and Brolan watched the bandits gallop away, they exchanged a look of understanding. The time for action was now. Argon's hand instinctively moved to the hilt of his blade, a feeling of grim anticipation gripping him. They had to be swift, but above all, they had to be silent. One wrong move and their plan would crumble.

They didn't have the luxury of horses, but their knowledge of the area and their fitness honed from a life of struggle gave them the advantage. They moved like shadows, flitting through the dense undergrowth of the forest, using every dip and curve of the land to their advantage.

The bandits' laughter echoed through the forest, growing louder as Argon and Brolan closed the distance.

Not more than a ten-minute gallop away from their recent heist, the bandits slowed their horses and pulled off to the side of the road. This secluded part of the forest, densely packed with ancient trees and shrouded in shadows, offered a temporary refuge for them. They were greedy men, eager to examine their spoils, but even they knew better than to do so in plain sight on a well-travelled road.

Lingering laughter echoed amongst the trees as they dismounted and began unbuckling sacks from their horses. Their coarse hands, weathered and calloused from a life of violence, pawed through the loot with eagerness. Their eyes glinted with malice as they counted the gold and assessed the value of the stolen goods. For them, this was the exhilarating part—the culmination of their risky endeavours.

Each bandit took his share, greedily stashing the gold and trinkets away. Yet, in the midst of their merriment, they remained oblivious to the watchful eyes lurking in the shadows, biding their time for the right moment to strike.

They waited, letting the unsuspecting bandits feel secure in their seclusion, before making their move.

Suddenly, the forest exploded into chaos. Brolan, with a swift, practised move, launched his throwing spikes. Most missed their mark, but one of the bandits gave a gurgled cry as a spike embedded in his throat, the life draining from his eyes.

Argon wasted no time. He sprang from his hiding spot, his blade flashing in the dim light filtering through the forest canopy. The fat bandit had no time to react as Argon's sword sank into his side, blood splattering across the forest floor. A guttural roar escaped Argon's lips as he withdrew his blade and turned towards the remaining two.

The bandit leader, recovering from the initial shock, roared in fury. He lunged at Argon, his scarred face twisted in rage. Brolan was a step ahead, his short sword darting out to meet the bandit leader's charge, parrying his attack and giving Argon a chance to regain his footing.

Argon, seizing the opportunity, lunged at the last bandit. The boy had managed to draw his blade, but he was no match for Argon's fury. With a swift and brutal thrust, Argon ran him through, his blade sinking into the boy's chest with a sickening squelch. The bandit gasped, his eyes wide with shock, before collapsing to the ground, his lifeblood pooling around him.

The bandit leader, now the last man standing, snarled in a fury, his eyes darting between Argon and Brolan. His bravado from before had evaporated, replaced by primal fear. His end was near, and he knew it.

With the bandit leader now cornered, Argon and Brolan moved in tandem. Argon swung his blade, slicing through the air with a whistling noise. With a sickening thud, the bandit leader's hand, still gripping his weapon, was severed at the wrist. A scream of agony tore from his lips as he crumpled to the ground, clutching his bleeding stump.

"Alright, you piece of shit," Argon growled, his eyes cold and hard as he approached the whimpering bandit leader. Brolan kept a watchful eye on the surroundings, ensuring they were alone. "We want to know where you stash the loot from these robberies. All of it."

"I don't know anything!" the bandit leader spat through gritted teeth, his face contorted in pain and fear.

Argon's response was swift. He delivered a swift kick to the leader's gut, causing the man to howl in pain. "Wrong answer."

With a sharp, gleeful smile, Brolan joined Argon. He unsheathed his dagger, the blade gleaming wickedly in the forest light. "Let me make this clear," Brolan said, his tone deadly calm. "You tell us about the loot, or we make this a whole lot worse."

With his large frame, Brolan pinned the leader down effortlessly. Despite his grimacing pain, the bandit's words were defiant. "All the loot's at the encampment, you fuckers won't find shit."

At his response, Argon's face hardened. His grip tightened around the hilt of his sword. In an instant, he drove the blade into the ground beside the leader's head. The man flinched, his breath hitching as he felt the cold steel against his skin.

"You're lying," Argon seethed, his voice as sharp as the blade he wielded. "And I don't like liars."

The bandit leader's eyes widened with fear as Argon swiftly cut a deep chunk off his cheek, a stinging reminder of more pain he could inflict. His blood-curdled scream echoed through the quiet forest.

"Wait! Wait! Wait!" The bandit leader pleaded, his voice desperate. His eyes darted between Argon and Brolan, finally grasping the grave danger he was in. "There's a stash... my stash. North of here. Look for a tree... it's almost dead... That's where we hide the stuff we skimmed from the boss."

"You've got what you wanted. Let me go now."

The request hung in the air, and his shaky words met with cold, hard laughter. Argon and Brolan shared a look before their chuckles filled the quiet forest. Their mirth was a chilling contrast to the bandit's desperation.

"You think that's how it works?" Argon snorted, his eyes glinting with dark amusement. "Tell us a secret and we just let you prance off into the sunset?"

Brolan's chuckle joined his, a deep sound that bounced off the nearby trees. "Dumb bastard thinks we're as naive as those merchant fucks he's been robbing."

Their laughter died down, replaced by a heavy silence. The bandit leader's hopeful gaze faltered as he realized his plea had fallen on deaf ears. The finality in their cold eyes made it clear there was no bargaining with these men and certainly no escape.

The bandit's desperate plea turned into a threat. "You don't know who you're messing with. My boss... he'll hunt you down. He'll kill you!"

Argon tilted his head, considering. Then, a slow, dangerous smirk spread across his face. "We've already killed three of you lot today. What's one more?"

A chill visibly passed through the bandit leader, his wide eyes reflecting his terror.

Argon smiles, "And as my friend Charles says, 'no witnesses.' So, how's your boss gonna know who to hunt, huh?"

Their words echoed ominously through the clearing, the bitter reality of the bandit's impending doom sinking in. There was a cruel finality in their tone, a guarantee that his life was as good as over.

Argon studied him, considering his words. After a moment, he gave a curt nod to Brolan, who promptly silenced the bandit leader permanently.

Argon's gaze flicked to the corpse at their feet. "A fucking lying, thieving rat to the end," he muttered, disgust evident in his voice. The wind rustled through the leaves overhead, carrying away the echoes of their grim work.