Dervish's Story

Dervish's head tilted as the low rumble of an cart signaled incoming quarry. The bandit leader's eyes peered behind his steel mask to the road, taking note of the two riders and cart laden with goods, and slowly the man stood.

A soft noise of cloth against leaves was the only warning to the pair of merchants that they were no longer alone. Less than 20 feet away from the slowly-trundling caravan, a man stepped from the overgrowth to the dirt road. The man who confronted them was armoured in thick leather and steel, and wore an expressionless metal mask that left him without an inch of his body showing to the world other than a pair of gray eyes as steely as the mask that surrounded them. Dervish held a naked blade in his right hand, but despite the drawn steel the newcomer seemed relaxed as the horses drawing the caravan nervously slowed and stopped in front of him.

"Good morning." His voice was calm, but easily cut through the soft background noise of birds and rain. For a long moment, neither Arya nor Ivan reacted to Dervish's sudden appearance, but the rustling undergrowth and the glint of metal on both sides of the caravan riders made it clear that the three of them were not alone. Ivan swore angrily upon the realization, reaching into the boards of the carriage to pull a heavy cudgel free from its confines at his feet, but an arrow hissed from the brush instantly in response and slammed into the boards of the cart, and inch from the man's hand.

Dervish's gaze didn't flicker, his gray eyes locked hard onto Arya's. "It's in your best interests to get out of the cart. Slowly."

The tip of the bandit's sword dropped low upon listening to the girl's relaxed response, expecting the man to follow suit. Instead, Ivan bellowed and charged, and Dervish grunted with displeasure as he quickly brought his falchion back upward in time to catch the downward swing of the guard's club. Ivan's weight hit the lighter Dervish an instant later, but he turned his body to prevent himself from falling, and simultaneously drew a second falchion from it's sheath on his back with his remaining hand. In a flash of movement Ivan had dropped onto his front into the muddy ground, the second blade protruding from his back.

Dervish exhaled through the mask with annoyance, disliking being caught off-guard by a merchant thug. He kept a wary eye on the girl as he gripped the hilt of his weapon and pulled it free from the body with a wet noise, slowly wiping the blood off on Ivan's tunic. "Awfully quick for a peg-legged Ox..." He looked to where he knew four of his men hid within the brush, and held a hand out towards them. "Hold." Despite this setback, the girl hadn't done anything aggressive and the bandit didn't want her shot because of her companion's stupidity. "That was unpleasant. I'd like you to make this easy for me, so that I don't feel that I need to do it again. I take it you understand?" She had seemed relaxed when he first talked, which Dervish hoped meant she was merely intelligent, instead of insane - or worse, a witch.

Dervish listened quietly at the exchange, and looked to Masa after the girl was done her talking. This Arya woman could be immensely helpful if everything that she claimed happened to be true, but people would say anything to save their own skins. "Don't harm her for now Masa, I'll deal with her."His eyes flicked back to the merchant, his voice turning to iron."If she's lying, you'll get your corpse."

Briefly motioning for the other men, the other three came onto the road and began to unhitch the horses. Within minutes, they would be gone with the cart and all the goods, horses included. "I'd like you to follow, Masa. If she tries to break to the woods, kindly put a bolt in her lung." The bandit leader put a hand on the back of the girl's neck, guiding her to step in line with him as they descended into the underbrush. "You're going to be our guest at the camp. We're going to have a long talk and you're going to outline exactly how you'll be useful to me. Then we'll decide what to do with you."

Within minutes, the immense evergreens of their home nearly blocked the bright glare of the morning sun, and the chirping birds became muted and distant. Ever Forest was not a place for anyone to be lost, and more than once the Ragged Bandits had lost sight of one of their own and found him or her a few days later in the form of a human-sized pellet of bone and bloodied clothing. Dervish had walked this path a hundred times, but still kept his gaze upward and the grip on his weapon tight. His other hand stayed on the girl's neck, but Dervish trusted that Masa would take care of it if she broke free of his grasp. They would go to his tent, and maybe finally his little bandit group could begin to conquer something more substantial than a few sacks of salt.

Dervish slowly circled the heavy wooden table in his tent as Arya talked, pulling out a chair and sitting down before considering her words. As Masa closed the tent flap behind himself to leave the three alone, the bandit leader tented his fingers in thought. "We could kill a few lazy village guards in the town over more easily than breaking into a smuggler's den, certainly." The vast majority of his men would have zero qualms about the act for the sake of growing more powerful, Dervish included. His main concern was getting as many undamaged sets of armour and uniforms as possible, without causing suspicion about the sudden appearance of extra guards on the road. Slaughtering a village soldier unit would certainly attract unwanted attention.

"The smuggler's den, however, is the better plan." There were some snags, however. The Ragged Camp only had a very limited number of people who could successfully sneak into a guarded area like a smuggler's den without making a mess of it. On top of that, their information has come from an unreliable source - This quick-witted merchant woman, who could easily be a smuggler herself. "If this is going to happen, you'll be coming with us, every step of the way. One hint of deception, and..." The man let the sentence hang. He'd already threatened her life enough times today, she knew what he implied.

Dervish looked to Masa. He'd need the thief. There were perhaps only two other members of the bandits that Dervish could reliably bring without worrying that they would do something stupid, and it would be better to bring only a small number anyway. "What do you think, Masa?" The young man had plenty of experience with this type of work, and wouldn't quail if it came to a fight.

"First we'll focus on actually getting the uniforms. If we do that successfully we can worry about bribing the existing guards." Dervish frowned. He didn't like leaving the entirety of a plan's success on the trustworthiness of someone that he didn't know, especially given the circumstances of their meeting. The merchant woman was probably correct that they'd be unable to watch her constantly, and her being intelligent enough to know that meant that she couldn't be trusted to be cowed into obeying while they were in the cove. Arya had no reason to continue with their plan once she wasn't being watched, and other than the potential for monetary gain he couldn't think of why she'd be so quick to become truly invested in their success. Dervish needed to change his strategy.

"You're right that I wouldn't be able to keep an eye the whole time. That just convinces me that we can't bring you with us." Dervish tapped his finger on the table thoughtfully. "You're going to sit and write out with me every aspect of the smuggler's cove, and of this Saiv gentleman that you can think of, anything that will ensure that we can succeed, and you're going be confined to my tent with guards instructed to make sure that you don't try to disappear." Leaning back in the chair, Dervish crossed his arms. "If we come back, you live, you'll be free to either join with us for mutual gain, or have a guide lead you back to the road. If we don't come back within a week, your guards will kill you." At the moment Dervish only had her life as a playing chip to ensure the plan succeeded. It would have to do.

Dervish slid one of the scattered pieces of parchment on his table across to the sly merchant, then pointed to the quill pen and ink that rested within her reach. "Start writing." Briefly the bandit leader glanced at Masa - He suspected that the young rogue was a bit taken by this attractive and eloquent girl, which could be a problem. Until Arya proved herself worthy of their trust she had to be treated as a potential enemy, and thus far they had certainly done nothing to her that would have earned her good will. Right now she was here because she wasn't given a choice. Trusting each other would only start to happen once her and the bandits started to make a profit from the relationship. "At the moment, the only thing on this girl's person that we can use as collateral to ensure her obedience and honesty is her life. Anything less than that and she would find an easier path to freedom." That meant, unfortunately, that they would also have to take a risk on her information being enough to succeed, but Dervish was willing to bet that Arya's love of her skin would make that risk as low as she could.

The leader stood, pushing his chair back, and walked towards the exit of his tent. "Watch her for now." He needed to prepare, and the first thing that needed to be done would be to find a guard. Pushing the tent flap aside, the masked man exited.

There was a disadvantage to working nearly exclusively with scoundrels: There were few people that Dervish could think of at the camp who could act as a prison guard for the girl and not be tricked, bribed, or seduced into her winning her freedom. There were no paragons of virtue here, but Dervish worked with what he had. He needed Weaver. Weaver was never a difficult man to find if he was at the camp, as he stood a head taller than nearly everyone around him, and sure enough Dervish quickly spotted the man the ragged bandits affectionately referred to as 'the Palisade' sitting on a fallen log at the edge of camp, rubbing an oiled rag along the blade of an intimidatingly large axe.

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Weaver looked up when his leader approached and smiled, setting the rag on his knee. "Good morning Captain. I saw that you had a busy start to your morning! Who was the lass that you dragged into your tent?" The big man's smile broadened, a teasing glint in the big man's eye. "I'll be honest, I didn't think you that sort of man."
There was an extended pause as Dervish didn't respond, inscrutable behind his steel mask. Finally when Dervish spoke, the joke was completely ignored. Weaver's captain had always been rather humourless. "I need you to guard someone in my tent for this coming week. I don't trust her outside of your sight, so you can't just stand outside the doorway, and I also don't want her to hate us any more than she already may, so you will only have her bound when you have to sleep or leave the tent. I only want someone other than you watching her when you need to leave the tent, which can't be for more than five minutes at a time and never with the same guard twice. If you do this without either having her escape or hurting her, I'll give you double bonus pay for the week as well as that bottle of fine wine in my tent that I know you've been eyeing." Weaver's expression grew more interested at that. "However, Weaver. You won't touch a drop for the week. Do you understand?"

The big man made a noise of annoyance, but then smiled again and stroked his beard. "Aye. I suppose I can help you Captain." It looked like he'd have to get all of his week's plans for feasting and drinking out of the way in one go tonight. Tomorrow things were going to get rather tedious.

It was a warm night. The air was almost stifling at the edge of the woods where the three figures crouched invisibly, but there was a wind in the open field ahead of them. Even Dervish was tempted to take a few small steps forward to where the bushes and trees wouldn't both conceal them and stifle the movement of the air, especially as the night dragged on and they didn't move, but that would have meant they came here for nothing. Though Dervish wasn't sure if the obvious pair of guards would see them immediately, he didn't trust the look of some of the areas near the warehouse. There were many places to conceal a few scouts, and the Bandit leader certainly knew that if he held this warehouse he would not just leave a pair of men in the open as the only protection. They were going to remain patient.

The wind that offered them relief came from the sea, and slowly there had been storm clouds building on the horizon where the dark water kissed the sky. Now the clouds were nearing, an occasional deep rumble or flash of light in the distance, and within a few minutes those dark clouds would begin to ensnare and cover the moon, leaving them able to pick their way through the field. it was a good as a plan that they could make, The warehouse was well situated, with the sea at it's back and the forest's edge a good distance away there would be no sneaking up on those watching the building otherwise. Even then, a badly-timed flash of lightning or an unwise dash when the moon would be uncovered and they'd probably be killed. Dervish had to trust that Masa had chosen a good third body for the job as well, a small and nearly-silent woman who had barely even looked at the other two bandits as they travelled South.

Finally, the darker clouds began to eat away at the brightness of the moon, a warm breeze moving past Dervish's ears and hinting of the gale that seemed to be coming. "Let's get moving."

"We'll use the rear entrance, facing the water." Dervish had to talk louder to be heard over the rain, but leaned close to make doubly sure that they wouldn’t be somehow heard. ”We’ll go under the warehouse to keep out of site in the water, but at least we can’t get any wetter.” If it somehow was a trap, the more unpredictable they were in their break-in the better the chance they would escape unscathed. Dervish was sure that there would be guards at the rear as well, but they would be well out of sight of any invisible lookouts on the other side of the warehouse, and hopefully the heavy diluge of rain would drown out any possible noise they made dealing with it. ”Come on.”

The sea water was cool as they descended under the warehouse, where it was supported by thick wooden pillars, and soon each of the thieves were left to their own thoughts as slowly treaded water towards the far side of the building. The rainfall was muted, although a glance to the side confirmed that it was in fact storming harder than ever. A worrisome thought passed through Dervish’s mind, a memory of finding a peasant man and woman dead in the water after they’d been swimming in a lake during a storm. Lightning could carry across the current and kill from afar… the thought made the bandit speed up.

Within a few minutes, they had reached the far edge of the warehouse. Dervish looked to Masa, and silently motioned for the thief to pull himself up the edge and see what was on the water’s side of the warehouse. If there were guards, they would deal with them as quietly as possible.

As soon as Masa began to move upwards, Dervish was quickly swimming away along the edge of the dock, looking to circle around their three opponents. The bandit leader reached upwards and gripped the slick wooden ledge tightly, forcing his body slowly from the grip of the angry sea. His gaze just passed the ledge as he heard a rustling in the bushes near where Masa had climbed, and the three thugs all turned to look at the commotion. Dervish didn't hesitate, his arms burning as he pushed his soaked body the rest of the way up and took cover against the wall of the warehouse, out of sight of the three men they were going to kill. Leaning out slightly, Dervish watched as a single thug plodded into the downpour grumpily and began to make his way to the bushes, readying a sap in his right hand. As he drew close, the masked bandit was quickly moving, looking to time his attack with Masa's.

Within a few seconds, the thug had reached the bushes just as Dervish reached the other two men. The bandit noted off-handedly Masa's thug get pulled bodily into the foliage. Before the other two could react, one of Dervish's blades found it's mark between one man's ribs from behind, killing him before he hit the ground. The second man heard the sound of dying beside him and some instinct made the last thug swing blindly as he turned, catching Dervish by surprise and causing the intended slash across the thug's throat to become a wounding cut to the arm. Thankfully, the man seemed too shocked to scream, turning with a gaping expression. Dervish's arm flexed as he tried to cut the man's windpipe before he could make a real noise, but a second later the final thug fell, a crossbow bolt squarely pinning him in the heart. Dervish hadn't even heard the 'twang' over the downpour, but his eye looked across to where he saw Lorelli crouched, the woman already reloading the heavy crossbow despite lacking any obvious threats. Dervish nodded appreciatively. Now they could enter the building, and hope that this was the path that would take them to their prize without causing any more of a ruckus.

The sun had not yet risen into view when Dervish and the other two bandits reached the point of the road closest to the Ragged Camp. The masked man glanced at the surrounding foliage yet again, but the leader had been very surprised at the uneventful trip. The horses of his followers were laden with their spoils from the mission, all except a particular sword which Dervish had claimed for himself, and despite the outfits being hidden it would have been a pain to deal with anyone on the road whether guard or criminal. Exhaling steam in the cool morning air, Dervish steered the horse off of the road, and towards home.

It didn't take long for one of the ragged bandits to meet Dervish on the pathway, and take the reins of the leader's horse. The bandit leader listened as the happenings of the last two days were explained to him, an unbelievable tale of the merchant girl's escape and a battle. At the word 'Witch', Dervish snapped his head towards the follower, and that's when he began to ask questions. It took time for him to be satisfied, but finally they reached camp and Dervish descended from the horse, intent on speaking with the salt maiden, the palisade, and the witch. If everything that he had been told was true, their plans were going to change. An ambitious smirk remained hidden behind his emotionless steel mask.

Pushing the heavy tent flap aside, Dervish entered the dark and the warmth of his quarters and was immediately greeted to the sight of Arya's naked form, the curve of her behind and back dimly illuminated in what little morning light filtered into the tent. Both Weaver and the mysterious Witch woman were nowhere to be seen in the tent, although the bandit leader assumed that the first place his soldier would go after the strenuous events of the previous night was to a drink. Stepping closer to the bed, Dervish noted the missing bottle that had been on his dresser and silently confirmed his suspicion. If the witch had left in the night while Weaver was drinking himself into unconsciousness, the bandit leader would regretfully have to make an example of him. Perhaps Arya knew more - The fact that she was here still, at least, was a good sign. Even if the information she gave was under duress and her escape attempt should have ended with the death of one of his lieutenants, without both her information and her wily escape they wouldn't be in the position to move for power that were currently in.

Looking again to the girl's form in the light, Dervish briefly felt a stirring that he'd ignored for years, now, but the man pushed the thought aside and sat on the edge of the bed. "Glad to see that you've made yourself comfortable in my bed." His tone was almost playful. He'd wait for her to awaken and then see if she knew where the Witch had slept or gone in the night, and then they could begin to plan.

Arya wiggled lethargically in the bed as a voice rose through the morning silence. It was a voice she had known days before - one in which she had been dreading to hear. Still, the young maiden didn't stray from an opportunity for banter and groaned, "I think you mean my bed. Finders keepers after all." Arya curled herself tighter into a ball. The cotton sheets felt slightly itchy against her skin but she avoided the temptation to scratch. Instead she huffed herself awake with deep breaths and exaggerated exhales.

Rising from the bed with slow, pained movements, the half-elf muttered, "But I suppose I should ask what my fate will be. Did the information do you well or am I a dead woman? If I'm dead, I'd rather die in my natural attire. The best always do." A small smile graced her lips but she wore a tired glare as she peered at Dervish still in his steel mask. She was certain he was scarred beyond human recognition below it. Even a wanted man would like to feel the morning air at least sometimes but this strange, steely mister was as stubborn as a mule it would seem. Silently she swore that if she didn't die, she would find a way to get that mask off of him. It was a silly, petty thing to consider when threatened with death but Arya wouldn't have it any other way.

"Also," Arya interrupted with a stern tone, "Have you seen the new missus? She is certainly something to behold, even for a man like you." Her light eyes had a slight spark in them while she watched her query with interest. Arya had risen fully from the bed now and strolled slyly towards the centre table. Her clothes were still thrown in a pile near the bed behind her.

"I have not seen her yet." Dervish turned as she walked past him to the table, idly watching her form as he spoke. "In fact, I was hoping that you would be able to tell me where she was." the man crossed his arms over his chest. "I suspect that I know where your guard Weaver went, and he will be out of commission for a few hours yet, but in the meantime I will speak with both you and the witch, if she is still in the camp."

"As for your fate..." The man paused, his eyes breaking from the merchant's body to study her expression. If the girl truly was nervous at all, she was hiding it masterfully; Arya didn't need a metal mask to hide herself from the world. "Your information was very good. We got everything that we needed for our original plan, and there were minimal complications. So I think that it's a fair trade that I begin to trust you. No more guard, to start." Perhaps he could finally start to have his tent to himself, again. "Your escape attempt was... ill-conceived, but you are apparently as lucky as you are bold. Not only did my lieutenant not die like he should have, but we may have gained a new ally, even temporarily. A powerful one." As Dervish spoke the last few words, the tent flap moved again and a young woman entered. The newcomer was dressed in heavy clothing and carried a staff, and wasn't one of his ragged bandits. The witch.

"You're the woman that my men have told me about." Dervish's flat voice carried across the tent. it was already beginning to get brighter in the tent, as the sun began to rise amongst the trees. "I don't know your name, but I have to thank you for healing Weaver. He's a good man." the masked man reached off of the side of the bed and picked up Arya's clothing, striding to the center table and setting the clothes beside the merchant woman with a meaningful glance her way. "I have a proposition for you both, if you'll sit with me. I'll have food brought here so that you won't listen on an empty stomach."

Uncrossing his arms, Dervish tilted his head slightly, trying to gauge both of their expressions to what he said. "You are both, of course, free to leave either before or after hearing what I have to say."

"You're the woman that my men have told me about..."

Dalca nodded as the masked man spoke. This was assuredly Dervish, the leader of these folk. She took a seat at the table once he finished saying his part, only cutting in briefly to respond to some of the statements.

"I am."

"My name is Natalia. The large one, there is no need to thank me for helping him. He helped free me from my previous captors, it only seemed fair to aid him in return."

At the mention of a proposition, the witch leaned slightly forward, yet her expression remained neutral. Her face, while youthful and healthy, bore a steadfast and stony rigidity that tended to be reserved for the older and more experienced. Two stone-gray eyes focused on the masked man, their combined gaze seemingly devoid of focus as she lazily inspected the interior of the tent.

"Luck had nothing to do with it." Arya muttered under her breath while she turned around from the pair to saunter towards her clothes. With sure hands, she picked up the outfit and shuffled into it. Her pale form disappeared under the brown leather that clung to her body greedily. Sweat the rested under her knees from the warm morning made it hard to push her legs through it which caused the half-elf to wiggle awkwardly into a tight fit. It took more of her mind that she had hoped, causing the young woman to miss much except for the promise of a potential offer and food. The second rang more true to her current state but the former would - or could - change her life.

Arya turned to the pair with a very mild grin and a nod. "Food sounds best." She stated quietly. The woman dropped into the chair by the table and straightened her back. Her thin hands took a fragile rest on her knees while she stared judgingly to Dervish. "Well?" She hinted with a nod towards the food. She was expecting to be served. It was, after all, the best thing he could do after keeping her captive here for several days. They weren't bad days but they also weren't exactly the best days either.

Pleased that both women chose to stay, Dervish moved smoothly to the entrance of his tent, speaking to one of the men who were outside the door briefly. As he moved back to the center of the tent, he saw Arya indicating that he begin to serve the small amount of food he kept in his tent, and after a moment of inscrutable thought he moved to the platter, lifting it to the table and setting slices of bread, chicken and vegetables in front of the two. "I have fruit, fish and cheese coming as well, help yourselves." Dervish sat across from the two, not making a move for the food himself.

"The first thing I want to do is learn more about you both. I have my own ambitions for my future, but I want to know how we can help one another." the man leaned forward, his eyes meeting each of the two as he talked - First to the smiling, attractive young merchant, sharp and deadly as a dagger; Then to the mysterious witch, polite and calm, but with something lurking behind her eyes that kept even the bandit leader from meeting her eyes for too long.

"As for myself, my main ambition is power. I have my own reasons for holding a vendetta against the Waors' ruling family, but the Warins family are my first target. If you want money, affluence or power as I do, I'm willing to work with you for as long as you're useful to me." Dervish gestured to the tent flap behind him, indicating the camp. "I have my men who call themselves the ragged bandits who are largely loyal for as long as they are paid enough, but mostly consist of criminals or mercenaries - It's difficult for me to find real allies who see the larger picture. I want to find people who have similar vision, and I want us all to benefit and grow from a mutual relationship."

Arya was pleased about the food; gruel, after several days, was beginning to wear on her sanity. Her light eyes kept a solid glare on a slab of chicken as it rose to the table, almost glistening in the morning light. She hadn't waited to hear Dervish's ploy before reaching rudely over the table and pinching the piece from the tray. Greedily she pulled it back and stuffed it into her mouth, munching quickly on its tender, white flesh. Painfully, the half-elf swallowed a large chunk and answered, "I think you know my ambition. Money, plain and simple." She paused for a breath before pinching another slab of meat from the tray. "But if I'm going to help with your little pipe dream, I'm going to need more than just your promise of future money. First of all-" The woman bit another thigh of meat, "I want my sisters back. Then I want protection. Another bodyguard to replace my Ivan you stole from me. And my own tent. Also, I don't like the idea of Weedle creeping around me anymore. He's vastly underwhelming as a human. Keep him busy at a distance from me."

Arya finished off the new piece of chicken and patted her face before staring at Dervish sternly. "As for what I plan to do, well, you have the uniforms so that's step one. Step two, you're going to build a wooden hut - much like a shop front. The biggest difference between bandits and actual guards are structures. I'm going to need parchment and a nicer ink plot than you have now - it's repulsive. Lastly, I'll need a seal but you may have solved that problem already." She smiled devilishly at him. "I'm assuming you have a Captain's sword - Siav was boasting about it before. Captains have swords with the kingdom emblem on them. We can use clay to create a seal from that image. With it, we'll send letters out to a few major companies, alerting them to the change. If they're prepared for the new station, they'll be less likely to question it. Our only worry is that they'll complain to the Kingdom about the new changes but if we pay off the right people, the leaders will never know about it." She smiled at him and took another bite of chicken.

While Arya spoke, the other guest at the table took the opportunity to eat. While her table manners were much more refined and delicate than her counterparts, cutting the chicken and fish gingerly into smaller bite sized pieces before carrying them individually to her mouth, her pace clearly signified the witch as emaciated. In all likelihood, the witch received meager rations if anything at all during her captivity.

When the gold-hungry elf finally finished her babbling, Natalia took a sip from the jug of water provided to her. At which she gave a satisfied exhale, and cleared her throat briefly.

"I seek neither money nor power. My ambitions are more, erm, abstract. That said, I will happily cooperate with your free company as long as our goals coincide, which for the time being seems like the case. I do have a few more personal errands I would like to run, but those are to pursue at the leisure of the group."

"Though, one task I need fulfilled as soon as possible but it is rather simple. A friend of mine runs a small establishment in the Waors capital, serving the purpose of both a librarian and a salesman of the newest texts. He must be worried about my lack of contact, so I would like to pay him a visit to ease his mind."