Lemondrops in the Forest

It is night. Not too late, but well into the evening, certainly. Cordelia makes her way through the woods, heading toward Combe and her Uncle\'s house as she does once a week when she finishes at the healers\'. The night is cold but dry and clear, and a few stars twinkle in the sky between the trees. The woods are quiet, as always--and Cordelia moves with confidence born of having made this trip at least twice a week since early September.

A figure peels away from a tall oak, moving to stand in the middle of the path. He\'s wearing overalls and a sloppy linen shirt, and has a wide-brimmed hat that casts shadows over his face. \"Bit late to be walking by yourself, ma\'am.. Could be trouble out here.\" There\'s the small red glow of spark in the bell of the pipe down by his hand.

Surprised by the man\'s sudden appearance here, Cordelia stumbles and has to grab hold of a nearby tree trunk to regain her balance. \"Trouble?\" she says, looking the man up and down. \"Never met trouble before on this path. Don\'t expect to now, either.\"

\"You walk this path a lot, ma\'am.. I seen ya.\" He says in a detached fashion, \"And I heard there\'re bandits about these days. Why do you go back and forth from Bree so much?\" He lifts the pipe to his mouth and takes a long drag, the ember burning brighter, but if Cordelia is sharp she\'ll notice something glinting in his left hand.. an old, rusty short sword.

The night is dark but the stars are bright, and starlight catches on the blade momentarily, Cordelia taking notice of it. She licks her lips and stares at the man for several long moments. \"I think, sir, that you\'d best not bother yourself with my business.\" Under her cloak, her hands move--is she unsheathing a hidden knife?

\"Stop bantering and get the money, ya sot!\" Another voice drifts over, this one lower and harsher. It is Scarface! Hatman\'s partner in crime! He ambles out of some bushes, sniffing in the cold air.

\"Timing! You ruin it.. everytime!\" Hatman retorts, sighing. Then he says in a bland tone. \"Your money, ma\'am. Hand it over. Don\'t make a fuss or we\'ll hurt you.\"

This is no woman of Bree that the bandits have chosen, though. As the second voice is

heard, Cordelia abruptly darts to her right, off the path and into the thick of the woods, running away from the voices! The undergrowth is thick here, though, and instead of getting away, as she had hoped, she trips, falling on her hands and knees.

\"Aw... hell! Everytime!\" Scarface swears and races after her, grumbling under his breath. He\'s anticipating a merry chase, and almost crashes on top of her when she trips to the ground, barely keeping himself from crushing her as he draws up short and falls to one knee.

Hatman watches Cordelia rush off, and watches his companion follow. He gives a lazy shrug and takes another drag at his pipe, then sloooowly blows the smoke out into the icy winter air. \"Have fun..\" He says softly, smirking.

As Scarface falls nearly on top of her, Cordelia is flattened right to the ground. Quickly she rolls over and kicks out a leg to try to get the thug where it counts--or, for that matter, anywhere at all, as long as it buys her some time.

There is another woman walking this road alone tonight. She wears her lavender dress, swishing around her feet, and over it, a green cloak to help shield against the cold. Her long gold curls shine in any light provided from the sky above- tonight, scant starlight. What is Muirgheal doing so far from home? Just walking a very roundabout way to Archet, it would seem. The lady walks with the ease of one without fears in the night, judging by the jaunty sway of her hip. She is enjoying the icy breeze, the quiet...until she hears a voice, or perhaps two. Still, she keeps walking on her way.

Scarface is reaching down, one hand aimed to grab her by the ankle to hold her when that foot lashes at him. If he gets a grasp on her, he\'ll tighten his grip, but regardless he dodges away from her kick. \"Ho there. Stop that or I\'ll grab a rock and break your chin, lady.\" He says in a cold, unforgiving tone. \"Cooperate and you won\'t be hurt.\"

Hatman begins whistling softly, perhaps out of boredom. Probably. It\'s a jaunty drinking song and he only pauses to puff at his pipe, standing so casually in the middle of the path, sword hanging at his side.

\"What do you want?!\" Cordelia\'s voice cuts harshly through the darkness. \"I have no money on me. Spent it at the market. Why are you troubling this town?\"

Muirgheal continues to make her way on down the road, closer now to the brush in which Cordelia is being accosted. But she\'s more focused on the whistling she now hears, which somewhat muffles the voices at first. Then the blonde hears the voice of her friend, and she stops a few feet from the man enjoying his pipe. She looks around every which way.

\"Give me yer empty purse then, if you have no coin.. and anything of worth. Rings, necklaces.. come on, then.\" Scarface urges in a soft, sinister tone. \"Don\'t argue. My temper is short.\"

Hatman, meanwhile, turns casually as his eyes enjoy the beautiful stars over head. Muir catches his attention and he draws back in surprise. \"Why.. hello, Lemondrop.\"

Muirgheal is just as surprised to see him. Her dark eyes widen as she takes in the sight. \"What\'d you just call me?\" The lady snarls, her right hand becoming a clenched fist.

\"Here!\" Cordelia throws _something_ at the bandit, wrapped in cloth and heavy. Then she scrambles to her feet at the sound of Muirgheal\'s voice.

Hatman grins and says quickly in a soothing tone. \"Oooooh, now, relax, Snapdragon. I didn\'t mean anything by it.\" He lifts up sword, twisting it in the moonlight. \"But, I do mean to be taking your money or I may have to rip your lovely dress.\"

Scarface snatches for the item, and might have pressed for more but he hears his cohort flirting back at the path and rolls his eyes. He rises as well and looks like he means to turn back, but suddenly reaches out to grab for Cordelia\'s arm, hissing sharply, \"Not a -sound-!\"

Muirgheal isn\'t really paying attention to the other voices now- no, she\'s all eyes for the man who, with each word from his foul mouth, continues to rattle her calm and bring out her wicked temper. Her lips part in soft surprise. So...this is the bandit, and perhaps the \"ghost\" from the graveyard! But then, a snarl accompanies her reply, \"Not unless you want lose your hands. And perhaps your stupid hat as well.\" She still hasn\'t unsheathed her beautiful sword.

For some reason, Cordelia falls silent as ordered. There is, however, something glinting in her right hand, mostly hidden. And it is not rusty.

Scarface is just moving closer, planning to put Cordelia into an armlock when he notices the dagger in her hand. He hisses sharply and quickly pushes her away, shoving hard. Maybe at a tree if he\'s lucky.

Hatman? He takes another long pull at his pipe and then lowers it, smiling crookedly in the dark. Slowly he blows the smoke out, right at Muirgheal. \"Fiesty.. Listen, Princess. I\'m a nice guy, but my friend isn\'t. He won\'t hesitate to hurt you or anyone else. Hand over your coin and valuables and maybe I\'ll give you my hat as a memento, aye?\"

Muirgheal just watches as the smoke drifts across her lovely face. If it stings her eyes, she gives no indication, only blinking slowly every once in a while. \"Your friend? Is that who\'s in the bushes? And I\'ve got no valuables.\" That seems quite untrue, however, given the lovely shiny bits of jewelry in her ears and around her neck. She doesn\'t seem to have a coin purse, but her dress has deep pockets sewn along the front. Suddenly, Muir smiles and it reaches her black eyes. She unsheaths her long sword. \"Oooh, or perhaps I\'ll pin you to that tree in less than two blinks, and then I\'ll put your hat on my head and dance around you.\" Would she dare?

Cordelia stumbles backwards as she is pushed, catching her balance against a tree. Her knife is still held firmly in her right hand, only now she shifts her grip on it so that the blade can clearly be seen, shining and deadly. \"That\'s right,\" she calls back to Scarface. \"I walk this path all the time, and this little blade is only one of the sweet things that I carry. I don\'t think you want to meet the rest of my treasures now, do you?\" she sneers. \"Come here if you\'d like and I\'ll show you them.\" She holds the blade up again and crooks a finger toward him.

Scarface likes easy victims, and Cordelia just got complicated. He digs his free hand into his pocket and pulls out a handful of.. something. This is flung out at the woman, a small cloud of.. pepper? Yes. Pepper. At her face. The bandit turns and flees. \"Be off!\" He calls to his partner as he departs the scene.

\"Ack!! ACHOOO! Ahhh!!!\" Cordelia variously spurts and sputters at the pepper thrown in her face, her arm going up to protect her eyes only a second too late. She\'ll spend a good deal of time leaning against a tree, tears streaming down her face as she tries to get the pepper out of her eyes--no time or ability to chase bandits now. The cloth that she threw at the bandit contains cherry pits.

Hatman\'s smile fades when she draws the sword. \"My.. My my! That is a gorgeous blade!\" He says, grinning widely. \"And does the hunter become the prey? Maybe I choose not to share my hat with you, fair lady.\"

\"Prey?\" Muirgheal growls, and then grins. \"Exactly.\" She raises her blade and lunges forward, and it does come swinging at him, but not at the man\'s body. It\'s much higher. She\'s aiming to spear the hat and whisk it right off his head. \"I\'ll take it whether you feel like sharing or not!\" She shouts. Perhaps she\'s got the hat on the end of her sword now, or perhaps she\'s only sliced through air..

Hatman knows his blade is just for show and when she lunges forward with that punching stab, the bandit scrambles back, waving his own blade widely in the air. \"Ahh!\" He yells, alarmed. He doesn\'t hang around to see how he fared her attack and rushes off into the trees, but after a moment there\'s a faint, \"Farewell, Buttercream!\" But.. Hatman\'s wide-brimmed hat is neatly skewered on her blade.. flopping in the cool winter breeze.

Muirgheal grins at her own well-executed sword work. Bringing the blade close, she eagerly grabs her prize, then resheaths her lovely weapon. The big cloth hat is placed atop her head, and beneath it, her grin broadens. \"Well, imagine that.\" She says to herself. Then she continues on down the road, enjoying her new hat and the very chill night, with even more swagger in her step than before.