Richter let out an agitated sigh as the knight realized that he'd once again passed the same Y-shaped bark-stripped tree that he'd originally seen an hour ago. The roaming swordsman, seeing the futility of trying to find his way through what was likely an enchant forest, slowly eased himself down into a sitting position so that he could take a short break from walking in full plate armor.
He'd thought that the job the townsfolk of Sarova in Ravensway would be fairly straightforward, like they'd told him it would be. There was a bandit encampment somewhere in the Sarovans' not-so-metaphorical neck of the woods who were killing and eating all of the wild game that the Sarovans depended on for both food and trade, and the few times the more combat-inclined Sarovans went off to deal with said bandits, their maimed or mutilated corpses were often found a few hours later after the other Sarivans heard agonized screams.
Needless to say, the Sarovans had abandoned any notion of driving out the bandits themselves after the third dismembered cadaver had been foubd, and instead had started looking for outside help a few days ago.
Because Sarova was largely outside of the jurisdiction of Arca, no official or unofficial support was sent despite the village's numerous requests for assistance. Other relatively nearby settlements likewise did not send aid, though this was less out of negligence and was more because said settlements didn't have the manpower or any combat-trained bodies to lend to Sarova.
Then, when the Sarovans were starting to consider drastic options, Richter stumbled right into their laps.
Almost literally, in this case, since he'd been mule-kicked in the head by a rabid deer while lost in the damned forest surrounding Sarova and had stumbled into the village in a nearly-concussed state. The Sarovans, either seeing him as a man in need or as the gods answering their prayers for help by sending them a knight, had taken him in immediately and given him what medical treatment they could spare. Ingratiated to the people of Sarova once his near-concussion had completely faded away, Richter offered his assistance in anything they needed done.
The Sarovans had explained the bandit situation to him, told him they'd pay him with a week's worth of traveling rations, and then all but tossed him, albeit gently and less physically, in the direction of the bandits once they'd finished informing him of their problem. It was a bit jarring to go from being treated for a concussion to clearing a bandit camp in the span of half an hour, but he accepted the task nonetheless.
After all, if he didn't do it, then he doubted they'd find anyone else willing and/or capable of doing it before they found their livelihoods (or their lives) taken away from them.
Which brought his mind back to the present and to his current state of being utterly lost in a forest that he could swear was toying with him by making him go in circles.
Hell, he thought he could even hear faint mocking giggles coming from all around him yet nowhere at once...but that was more than likely just his mind and a bit of anxiety playing tricks on him.
Richter brought a gauntlet-clad hand up to chin helmet-covered chin and hummed to himself as he pondered what to do next.
