The cocky old crone had grossly misjudged her opponent- and now, she would pay for that mistake with her life. Perhaps if she'd been a mage of great reknown, rather than just an old bandit-woman who had made a contract with infernal gods, she would have stood a chance. She had had no idea how the mercenary was able to fade in and out of existence the way that he seemed to do- and had not been prepared at all for when he jerked her forward; when his greatsword shattered her amulet was when the old bitch had died, sighing as his blade rammed her through, the lightning energy making short work of her already-withering corpse, charring it beyond any possible recognition.
---
The duo that remained in the camp were blissfully unaware of what was going on with their comrades; one polishing her chain armor and the other remaining as relaxed as a contented cat high above the ground; remaining motionless in the branches. Following orders was extremely boring, but as long as they didn't hear the approach of their companions or someone worth robbing drawing near, there wasn't cause for much of anything, including conversation.
---
Nearby heavy footsteps, coupled by the sound of rustling cloth began rousing her from her sleep, causing Lycoris to slur:
"Alrigh' I'm 'wake. There's coffee in m' pouch, you mind gettin' it and makin' some?" That was based on it being Reinardt moving around, possibly getting ready to have her take the second watch. When no immediate answer came, she shook the fog of exhaustion from her head, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hands and sitting up, peering about in a confused manner.
Nope, the mercenary wasn't there- but someone else was. She couldn't tell exactly who or what it was; at least somewhat taller than her, dressed in battered leather armor and a boiled leather mask; featureless, save for the eyeholes slashed into it, hooded and gloved, this individual was making a point of keeping its appearance hidden, rifling through everything that remained at the camp.
It's a gods-damned thief! That thought caused the plant-woman to grin at the thought of the camp being robbed by one of her own ilk; it
was quite amusing, proving that there truly was
no honor amongst thieves.
Fuck it, she thought as she rolled to her feet; drawing her daggers and crouching low to the ground, clawed toes grasping at the dirt underfoot.
The "thief" (torturer) had indeed been going through Reinhardt's belongings, looking for gold that he could take back to the others. It might have been strange, but he really
didn't have a vendetta against the woman that had been sleeping, nor whoever had been with her. It was just part of the job, nothing more and nothing less than that: robbing others, killing anyone who might have tried to stop the bandits, getting to have fun tormenting a captive every now and again, it was just the way they lived. Not too much different than a fucking pirate, as far as he cared.
He hadn't planned on leaving the woman alone; but he'd hoped he would have had enough time to steal a few things before she woke up. Oh well; plans had changed abruptly. He'd just have to work on this one a little sooner than he'd hoped.
"It's nice to see you awake," The torturer sneered, watching the woman's every move, rocking back onto the balls of his feet, drawing a baselard from its sheath.
"Fuck you," Lycoris spat, setting her knives to spinning between her deft fingers; the flickering firelight reflacting off their blades and transforming them into something almost mesmerizing as one foot slid behind the other, preparing herself to move.
"Oh, I plan on doing much more than just that!" That was all it took; Lycoris sprang forward, launching herself into a flurry of blades; her left dagger slashing across the would-be torturer's stomach; tearing through cheap leather armor and biting into flesh that seemed all too eager to part; the ground decorated with a bright spray of scarlet as the plant-woman's momentum carried her forward, right dagger twisting and delivering a vicious backhand thust to his back as she continued forward for a few steps, pivoting and crouching yet again.
With a howl of surprise and pain, the masked brigand turned and closed the distance between them in the span of a few footsteps, bringing his weapon high and at an angle; had his opponent not moved nearly as swiftly as she had, he would certainly eviscerated her, rather than simply clipping her chin with his pommel. Not realizing that she didn't breathe like normal people, he closed the gap between them and reached out, seizing her throat in his free hand; beginning to clamp down quite viciously.
Though she was still fairly lightheaded; not only from being far more clothed than what was comfortable for her, but the pommel-stone colliding with her chin, she quickly and quite savagely raked her claws across what little flesh of his neck remained exposed; ignoring, for now, the knee that was driven into her stomach as her opponent dropped his blade. He really
wasn't a skilled fighter at all; someone who tortured others for fun only needed to be experienced in their own art; they let others do the fighting for them.
It became a flash of blades and storm of thrown punches and kicks; headbutts and flailing limbs; a deadly dance that moved from one end of the camp to the other and back; shrieks, grunts and groans splitting the silence of the night; a long, vicious scuffle between a thief that wasn't about to submit to anyone's whims and a torturer whose expertise in combat extended to the barroom brawl.
"Stop fucking with me, bastard! This ends now!" Lycoris snarled at last; one knife slicing the bandit's lower stomach, the other driven upward into the underside of his jaw.
Though she was battered, bruised and roughed-up, sore and aching, Lycoris was no more wounded than she would have been during a particularly nasty brawl. Shaking her head and swaying a bit on her feet, the thief made her way over to the almost-extinguished fire, tossing more dry wood and moss onto it so it wouldn't burn out, she sank to her haunches and shook her head, laughing in a disbelieving manner. She'd have to dispose of the corpse after seeing if it carried gold or anything else worth keeping, but that would wait until she caught her breath again.