This is my little writing experiment in character and setting development; it'll be a series of (probably) short vignettes. Bits of things will be revealed as we go along, but if anything is especially unclear feel free to ask. So, without further ado, enjoy!
1
In Which Danger is (not) Confronted
Ava waited at the edge of the hummock, laying flat to keep her profile low. Darien, who had the best aim with a sling, was next to her. The weather was chill, cloudy, and unpleasant in every way. It was ready to rain, perhaps even thunderstorm with the way Darien's hair was frizzing. Dampness bled through her clothes from the grass, and she allowed herself a slight shiver. It was unbelievable they were even here; only the craziest, most bone-headed traveler—
A Roc's call. The signal.
Raising herself to a crouch, Ava barely poked her head above the top of the grass. She snorted quietly with disbelief. There was, in fact, a single person headed their way. And on foot, no less. They'd found a real catch this time. It was a wonder whoever it was was still alive.
As the figure approached, Ava began to make out a few details. It was a young woman, medium build. Hylian, probably. Interesting, not too many of those this far out. She wore a simple belted elbow-length shirt, and pants tucked into a pair of worn boots; she carried few possessions. All-in-all, unthreatening. Probably not worth it.
...Except, of course, for the massive sword she carried on her back, alongside an oblong wrapped bundle. The sword—was that a Zweihander?— meant danger, perhaps too much; but the bundle might mean a score. She grunted dissatisfactorily.
"What is it?" Darien whispered.
"Just a girl. She's got a big black sword though. Could mean trouble. We'll see if we get the go ahead."
Just as the words left her mouth, a second Roc's call sounded through the grass. There it was. Ava mentally recited a short prayer to the Gods and tensed her body, readying herself. She counted to twenty after the traveler passed the boulders a ways to the east, and then slowly rose to her feet. Simultaneously, ten others emerged from the grass, each brandishing their weapon; the traveler was surrounded. All in all, it made a menacing sight.
The girl didn't stop. She glanced sidelong at the men around her and continued walking, albeit a little slower.
Grach, the leader, stepped forward, holding his broadsword in front of him. The girl didn't stop.
"Look." He cleared his throat roughly. "I'm not one for that 'easy way or hard way' kind of nonsense. If you allow us the pleasure of relievin' you of your trinkets, we'll let you pass with your throat intact. Sound fair?" He planted the point of his sword in the ground to punctuate the last word.
The girl slowed further, an uncertain look on her face. She stared at Grach straight in the eyes, and then appeared to relax visibly. She shrugged…
...And took off sprinting at full speed.
The group was surprised enough that she was easily able to pass through the circle. No one moved for several seconds, staring slackjawed at her receding form.
"Bloody coward," Grach cursed. "What are you lot doing? After 'er!"
The circle broke rapidly as they began the chase.
Kalinka slowed to a fast jog and began to unstrap Shadow from her back. Fortunately, the bandits seemed unused enough to tactical retreat that she wouldn't actually need to fight. Then again, no one ever seemed used to tactical retreat. It was a much finer tactic than anyone gave credit for. She pointed the sword in front of her and began to mutter under her breath.
Some big hero you are, the voice in her head had to comment, what is that, the third time this week?
Oh stuff it, you, she replied, I need to focus, big help you are. It's not like you aren't used to this, anyway.
There was a snort and a snicker, but no further comments were made. Just as well—she was nearing the most difficult portion of the spell. The blade of her sword was glowing with blue-green light, and the bandits were beginning to gain on her.
She yelled the last word of the spell and threw herself bodily forward. It had been hastily constructed, but she was improving, and it would serve well enough. There was a flash, and her stomach dropped out from under her. She hit the ground hard, rolling through the grass for several seconds. It only took a second or two to clamber back to her feet and begin jogging again. She glanced behind herself—and then did a double take. Chuckling, she slowed to a walk again, and began to catch her breath.
"Oh, this is so much better than last time."
Ava had stopped completely, staring slack-jawed at the empty space where the running girl had been a second before. Where…? How…?
One of the sharper-eyed scouts gave a shout, and pointed toward the horizon. She turned her gaze toward where he indicated.
There, at least a mile out, a small dark figure moved at a leisurely pace through the grassland. Everyone in the group ground to a halt and glanced toward Grach. He was, predictably, infuriated. Face red, eyes bulging, he threw his sword to the ground disgustedly.
"One girl. One measly, weak, insignificant—" ...Would he order a chase? Gods, please, no, let him not order a chase. For the love of everything let there not be a chase.
Thunder boomed from behind them, and a few drops of drizzle fell from the sky. Grach's shoulders slumped.
It appeared that would be the end of it.
Ava stared at the figure in the distance, now barely visible, and shrugged.
"Nice trick," she offered.