Clashing metal

Stilling at the sound of what was clearly some form of conflict, I slunk into the foliage and peered in the direction. I could faintly see what appeared to be a series of wagons with figures rushing back and forth some hundred or so yards out.

Well, if fate was going to send civilization my way, who was I to disagree? Slinking my way in that direction, I moved up into the branches of the trees and soon was overlooking what was clearly a decently wide dirt road stretching into the distance either way.

In front of me however, was something that caused a metaphorical sweatdrop. A caravan of five covered wagons that were in the process of being ransacked by bandits. Several of what I assume were the caravan guards lay dead as a dozen rough looking men were busy looting the wagons. The group that was nearest me however, was the proverbial cherry on top of this cliche sundae.

Two bandits were holding a struggling young man while a third held an armored woman at sword point and a fourth was busy attempting to remove the clothes off another woman who was screaming with another two watching on and laughing.

“Get your hands off her you bastards!” the boy yelled before one of the bandits silenced him with a fist to the stomach.

“Look ‘ere boy, either you keep nice and quiet or we’re gonna make you. ‘sides, you’re all going to market and this’ll be common enough. Think of it as job training.” One of the bandits jeered to the catcalls of the other.

Well, I guess it’s cliche time.