Her muscles strained against the weight of her chained shirt, the leather at her legs new and tight against her strides. The breeze would have felt nice had she the opportunity to feel it through her battlements. Thankfully the night was cool and young, the moon barely breaching the horizon of wild trees as her path slowly came into focus. A melody followed her timed movements, clank, tink, clank clank, ting; which made it hard for her to pay attention to anything else. Her nerves rose as the rustle of trees added an ominous note to her metallic music.
With dust rising at her feet the woman came to a sudden halt, hand pressed to her hip to silence the chain that had been singing it’s chorus. Narrowed eyes, the color of slate, stared futilely into the trees that rose at her sides like a parted sea. Had it been her overactive imagination? Her heart thudded loud, kick starting the stored adrenaline in her veins till they were pulsing loudly in her ears. With a practiced flick of her thumb, the clasp at her hip released, dropping the coiled chain into her waiting hands. A flourish of twisting chain and flexing muscle and the weapon was free of it’s constricting wrap hanging now between two capable hands, held taut and ready for attack. One end of the unique tool came to a point, barely a foot long, held in her left hand, tightly and steadily. In her right the chain fell slack, till it’s end could scrape and flirt with the dirt path. This end was three pronged, and larger, the points sharpened and bladed, glistening from a cleaning not a day old.
There wasn’t much cause to draw her weapon, just that little rustle over the sound metal on metal; but it had been enough for a cautious adventurer. There was just something wrong, something was off. The woman bit her lip, limbs lowering closer to the ground, boots kicking up dust as they spread into a stable stance. “C’mon out…” She snarled, breath shallow, short, in order to keep her ears clear of white noise.
There it was, right on cue, a twig snapped, the bushes of the under brush burst and a man charged, sword drawn. Her chain went taut, the sound of locking metal ringing softly under the war cry of her attacker. The ball of her foot swerved, body rocking as the whip in her hands sprang to life like stepping on a sleeping cobra. With all of his screaming the woman made a single huff as her arm wretched, pulling the heavy end into the air with precise aim. Extra chain followed the pronged head straight and true leaving enough slack for the woman to side step and ensure that his sword would take no blood.
“Hook.” The weapon made it’s mark, flying past him through the small window between his ear and shoulder before her body went rigid, pulling with all her might. Two of the three blades drove home into the man’s shoulder blade, the scent of copper suddenly filling the crisp night air.
“Line.” Her lips turned up into a wicked grin as his body came tumbled towards her, hands pulling insistently upon the chain between them. The blades drove deeper, tearing as it’s master commanded it’s return. With only a few short feet separating them, the woman’s leg rose, swinging a crescent till the chain caught in the notch between her elevated heel and the rest of her soul. Her eyes blazed as the man’s wails filled her with vigor. With a snap, her leg straightened into the dirt, shortening the last bit of chain, sending the attacker sprawling towards her. With the pointed end of her weapon, she glanced away the blade which the man still managed to hold fast too, sliding into his frontal arch with ease.
“And, sink’em.” Using his momentum against him the woman, drew the short dirk up catching the combatant under the jaw. His tumbling speed and her strength worked against him as the piercing weapon drove deeply past his teeth, till her clenched hand was tucked tightly under his chin; a foot of steel buried in his skull. Blood was spilling from the wound, his body twitching as it collapsed into her frame. Her knee bucked him away, at the same time the woman tore the dirk from it’s human sheath. Dirt twirled around the corpse at her feet, arm flicking to shoo the blood from the piercing tool. The crimson fluid tapped against the ground as more bushes started to rustle behind at her back.
The woman grinned wildly, turning her head to count the number she now faced. With one foot planted to the dead man’s hallowed head, she wrenched free the pronged end of her weapon. Her body turned to face the three remaining bandits, face twisted wickedly. The trees wailed mournfully, warning the others to flee while they could; their faces showing shock and horror, in utter agreement to leave. They stared, taking rapid fearful breaths as the woman drew low to a wide stance, her slate eyes fixated on them. “C’mon then.” She taunted, the clank of metal ringing in the night all over again.