1.1.1 Chapter Thirteen
Ambermist departed from the inn, eager to get to work on her job site of choice—the streets. She walked expertly to the tavern district in the lower class portion of town.
Picking a different street this time, she stood in wait for an unlikely drunk near a street lamp. For a whole hour she had absolutely no luck at all. Then, for a long while, anyone she did see were not the drunks she was hoping for.
Finally, just as she was about to give up and leave, her quarry appeared. Two drunken aristocrats exited the tavern to her right. Both were in their mid-twenties, one brunette, the other fair haired. The brunette was bigger, more solidly built than his blonde companion, and far less drunk—in fact, he was only tipsy. The blonde though, was shit-faced. He either leaned on his companion heavily, or staggered independently all over the place.
They spotted Ambermist when she whistled at them and staggered her way.
She smiled coyly at them. "Hey, are you two boys looking for a good time?"
Both men grinned, eyeing her up and down appreciatively. The brunette said, "Sure, babe. We could use a good time and you look sorta lonely."
Ambermist blinked, something unnerving her about the whole situation all of a sudden. She couldn't back out now though. "Well, then, we should find a room, shouldn't we"
The brunette took her by the arm and took the trio to a run down inn a few blocks away. The blonde paid for a room and the group went upstairs. Ambermist began to feel very nervous, her anxiety growing with every step.
The room confirmed her fear. Empty except for the bed and a large table, there was nothing Ambermist could use to hit them with, and, in her eagerness to get out on the streets, she had left her broadswords in her room. —Uh-oh…—
The dark haired man shut the door behind him. Ambermist was trapped. She had to think fast. The blonde had already stripped his clothes and was sitting on the bed. Thinking quickly, she looked at the brunette. That was when she spotted the heavy handled knife he had. She got an idea at that point. As he reached for her, she twisted out of the way and swiped his knife, bringing the heavy handle to bear, right on the side of his head.
His eyes crossed and he collapsed. Ambermist winced—she'd twisted her knee when she dodged. Turning to the guy on the bed, she moved to take care of him. He was so drunk, he hadn't seen his buddy knocked unconscious.
As Ambermist approached the bed, he pawed at her, grabbing at her breasts. By now, Ambermist was pissed and she hauled off and kicked the blonde in the nuts, hearing a VERY satisfying squish.
His eyes bugged and he cried out in pain. But he was still up. Ambermist kicked him again in the balls, harder, and this time he passed out from pain. She proceeded to pound his genitalia into a bloody pulp, feeling very satisfied when she was through. Then she looked at the other man, getting a wicked idea. She stripped him of his clothes and drug him over to the bed, heaving him on top of his buddy.
—There. That's much better.—
Ambermist began rifling through the garments—only to be disappointed. The two drunks had nothing, nothing at all, not even a single coin, or piece of jewelry. Irritated to the point of screaming, she took the clothes and hurled them out the window, before storming out, leaving the door open.
Exiting to the street, empty handed, Ambermist decided she wanted to mug somebody, just to ease her frustration. She made her way grimly to an alley.
Ambermist departed from the inn, eager to get to work on her job site of choice—the streets. She walked expertly to the tavern district in the lower class portion of town.
Picking a different street this time, she stood in wait for an unlikely drunk near a street lamp. For a whole hour she had absolutely no luck at all. Then, for a long while, anyone she did see were not the drunks she was hoping for.
Finally, just as she was about to give up and leave, her quarry appeared. Two drunken aristocrats exited the tavern to her right. Both were in their mid-twenties, one brunette, the other fair haired. The brunette was bigger, more solidly built than his blonde companion, and far less drunk—in fact, he was only tipsy. The blonde though, was shit-faced. He either leaned on his companion heavily, or staggered independently all over the place.
They spotted Ambermist when she whistled at them and staggered her way.
She smiled coyly at them. "Hey, are you two boys looking for a good time?"
Both men grinned, eyeing her up and down appreciatively. The brunette said, "Sure, babe. We could use a good time and you look sorta lonely."
Ambermist blinked, something unnerving her about the whole situation all of a sudden. She couldn't back out now though. "Well, then, we should find a room, shouldn't we"
The brunette took her by the arm and took the trio to a run down inn a few blocks away. The blonde paid for a room and the group went upstairs. Ambermist began to feel very nervous, her anxiety growing with every step.
The room confirmed her fear. Empty except for the bed and a large table, there was nothing Ambermist could use to hit them with, and, in her eagerness to get out on the streets, she had left her broadswords in her room. —Uh-oh…—
The dark haired man shut the door behind him. Ambermist was trapped. She had to think fast. The blonde had already stripped his clothes and was sitting on the bed. Thinking quickly, she looked at the brunette. That was when she spotted the heavy handled knife he had. She got an idea at that point. As he reached for her, she twisted out of the way and swiped his knife, bringing the heavy handle to bear, right on the side of his head.
His eyes crossed and he collapsed. Ambermist winced—she'd twisted her knee when she dodged. Turning to the guy on the bed, she moved to take care of him. He was so drunk, he hadn't seen his buddy knocked unconscious.
As Ambermist approached the bed, he pawed at her, grabbing at her breasts. By now, Ambermist was pissed and she hauled off and kicked the blonde in the nuts, hearing a VERY satisfying squish.
His eyes bugged and he cried out in pain. But he was still up. Ambermist kicked him again in the balls, harder, and this time he passed out from pain. She proceeded to pound his genitalia into a bloody pulp, feeling very satisfied when she was through. Then she looked at the other man, getting a wicked idea. She stripped him of his clothes and drug him over to the bed, heaving him on top of his buddy.
—There. That's much better.—
Ambermist began rifling through the garments—only to be disappointed. The two drunks had nothing, nothing at all, not even a single coin, or piece of jewelry. Irritated to the point of screaming, she took the clothes and hurled them out the window, before storming out, leaving the door open.
Exiting to the street, empty handed, Ambermist decided she wanted to mug somebody, just to ease her frustration. She made her way grimly to an alley.