A Cold Death
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Amid the road from Peltarch to Norwick, Calistra Winterdotir found herself approached by a ruthless band of cold and desperate bandits. Looking frigid and tired, with snow patches on their cloaks, they approached her.
"Oh, 'ello dere, missy. Come to pay the ol' bridge tax, 'ave ya?" one of them asked.
A second bandit squinted his eyes, studying Calistra, then nudged the first. "Ayy, look at her pendant. She's a snow witch!" he said, pointing at her.
Loud grumbles and the sound of swords unsheathing filled the air as they flanked Calistra. With their eyes filled with fury, they blamed Calistra for bringing the harsh winter upon them, claiming that her divine connection to Auril was the source of their suffering.
Without speaking a word, Calistra summoned her frostbitten hound, and the fight began. Pulling out her bow, she dispatched one bandit while her hound squared off with the other, pouncing and biting down on his arm. Calistra took aim and glanced an arrow off his leg, tearing his leather pants. The bandit struck Calistra's hound with the pommel of his sword and dashed up the hill towards his camp, yelling for help. Calistra gave a predatory smile, and with her hound, they pursued.
The bandit leader sat by the campfire, gnawing on the remains of a frozen ration. Sitting in the snow, trying to shelter from the bitter wind, he huddled closer to the fire, cursing the winter in barely a whisper for fear of what the gods might hear. He heard shouting from down below, towards the bridge. Hopefully, his men working the road had come upon some merchant with a cart full of goods to make waiting out this winter worthwhile. He got up and started down the hill to see... and then he saw a fight. One of his men was slain in the road, and a second was retreating up the hill back to camp.
He shouted, "It's one of those frost witches!" The bandit leader gripped his sword and shield and rushed down towards the fray. "This damn winter is bad enough without one of these ice-bitches running around," he thought to himself. He took the high ground above an icy patch and prepared to fight.
The wounded bandit made it up the hill to the leader. "It's a pikin' snow-witch, boss! She's gone mad!"
"Shut up, would ya! Turn around and fight, don't let 'er take our camp or we're good as dead anyways."
Arrows flew up the hill, and the frostbitten hound raced toward the regrouped bandits. The hound clamped down on the wounded bandit again, but the leader delivered a brutal stab into the hound's side, causing its magical essence to disperse into the air. The two bandits paused to collect themselves, then turned with proud and mocking laughs to engage Calistra. She ditched her bow and pulled out her scimitar and shield as the two bandits came upon her. Fighting defensively, she blocked their blows and traded stabs. She found an opening on the wounded bandit and pierced his thigh with a thrust. The bandit yelled out in pain, and the force behind the stab diminished. The bandit leader came down with a blow to Calistra's neck, and everything went black.
Her body fell limp into the snow. The bandit leader stood over Calistra's body and yelled, "That's what ya get for this winter!" He looked to the other bandit, "You'll live. Patch it up an' help me with 'er."
The bandits checked over her body, looking for valuables, and grabbed a small coin purse. Frustrated with what they could find, they tried for the armor. A well-crafted chain piece that glistened in the snow. "A good piece ta pawn off, an' maybe she got sumthin' else in dere," they snickered to themselves. They tried to unbuckle the greaves and chest piece... but the buckles wouldn't release. They were frozen shut somehow and would not open for the two. This thwarted their attempts at looting and any other possible thoughts of defilement.
Frustrated and tired of searching over her body, they dragged it down the hill towards the road. "T'ere," the leader said, pointing to a tree by the road, "We'll set up a new collection spot for ol' lady winter." They tied up her body, sitting at the base of a tree, with her arms above her head, wrists bound together. The leader then found a plank of wood and carved a crude sign, tossing it in Calistra's lap. "Winturz Colekshun"
The second bandit looked a bit uneasy at the scene. "Uh, we need ta do this, boss?" Shaking his head slightly, "I'm no fan of th' winter but this might'n be too much, yea?" The bandit leader scoffed and spat towards Calistra's body, "Eh, we're livin' damn'd lives either way. I wanted my pound o' flesh, heh." He wiped some snot from under his nose with the cloth on his wrist. "C'mon, let's head back to camp." The two trudged back up the snowy hillside to tend their wounds by the small campfire.
