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The Destruction of the Taliver Bandits


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"The Destruction of the Tailver Bandits:

It was dark out, the only light came from the moon and the stars, and even they were obscured. It was a bit cloudy. It was slightly cold thanks to the breeze, and there seemed to be some moisture in the air, as if it was going to rain at any moment.

A perfect night for killing.

Wallace, a retired knight from the territory of Caelin, in the nation of Lycia, stood tall, lance in hand as he gazed down at the two corpses at his feet. They had been easy to kill, he’d simply snuck up behind them and pierced their hearts with his lance. Their eyes were still open, mouths agape in shock, their own lances on the ground next to the doused torches they’d both been carrying. Blood stained the grass, although you couldn’t see it very well thanks to how dark it was. His lance was stained, too.

As he lifted his gaze, he could see that about twenty yards straight ahead of him there were a few buildings built within close proximity of each other. There was light streaming through the window of one of the buildings, and the loud sounds of cheering and celebration emanated from within. These buildings before him were nestled snuggly in a valley in the Taliver Mountain, the mountain on the border between the nations of Bern and Sacae.

These buildings also just so happened to be the hideout of the Taliver Bandits, and the men he’d just killed had been guarding them.

The Taliver Bandits were the reason not many dared to travel through the mountain. They were a ruthless group, even other groups of bandits hated them. The Talivers took whatever they pleased, they pillaged and plundered, they murdered whoever they wanted without distinction. Even bandits had a certain code, and they broke that code. They were less than human. They were a great sore on the earth, a disease that needed to be wiped out.

And that’s exactly what he was there to do.

Wallace began walking forward, slowly making his way towards the hideout. The sounds of celebration were probably because they’d just come back from a successful day of pillaging and murdering. It was sickening, it put a scowl on his face and anger in his heart. Why had no one come to clear this rabble out sooner?

The only bright spot was that they were cheering so loudly that they couldn’t hear him approaching. He had killed their guards, and now he was waltzing right up to their front door.

“I will finish it for you, Lady Lyndis,” Wallace muttered to himself once he’d reached the door of the first building, the building where the bandits were celebrating.

Lady Lyndis was the daughter of Lady Madelyn and Lord Hassar. Madelyn had been a noblewoman from Caelin, and Hassar had been the chieftain of the Lorca tribe in Sacae. The two had fallen in love, Madelyn had abandoned her position in Caelin and eloped with Hassar to the plains of Sacae.

It was funny. He had been sent after Madelyn and Hassar to prevent them from eloping. But when he’d caught up to them, he’d let them go. They were both his friends, and they deserved their happiness. He’d spent a long time in the dungeons for that.

He’d let them go, they’d eloped and were blessed with the birth of Lyndis, and for eighteen years they had been happy.

And then the bandits of Taliver had attacked.

They had poisoned the water supply and, while the Lorca tribe was weak from the poison, wiped them out. Even the women and children. Hassar and Madelyn had also been killed. Lyndis had been the only survivor, she’d been found unconscious several days later.

That had been over a year ago. Lyndis was eighteen years old now. She had come to Caelin after her parents had been murdered and taken up the position her mother had left, and it had been quite the adventure getting to Caelin!

But that was a story for another time.

Her grandfather, the current Marquess and ruler of Caelin, had since forgiven Madelyn and had welcomed Lyndis with open arms. The lass was a good ruler. Plus she had skill with a blade, thanks to the teachings of her father.

But now she only tempered her skills with the desire for revenge. She harbored anger and hatred, a burning desire for revenge.

And that’s why he was going to wipe out the Taliver Bandits. For Lyndis. She possessed a good, kind heart. He couldn’t let her be consumed with anger and hatred.

So there he was. He may be old and technically retired, but he was still the best knight in all of Caelin, and in any other land and country!

Wallace was tempted to push his ear against the door to hear what the bandits were saying, but decided against it. He didn’t need to, he could predict what was being said. It was all vile talk, talk of murder and stealing, talk of stabbing some poor child in the back or beheading a helpless housewife, robbing a hardworking man of his gold or barging into an innocent family’s home.

It was disgusting. Just another reason on a long list of reasons of why these vile vermin required terminating.

The tall knight grit his teeth together as a scowl formed across his face. He took a step back, raised his leg and, with all of the strength he could muster, he kicked the door.

The strength of his kick sent the door flying off its hinges, spinning rapidly at a diagonal angle as it broke away and flew through the air for a moment before landing with a loud bang.

The bandits inside all sprung to their feet, dropping their drinks and spilling the alcoholic poison everywhere. There were about twenty of them and they all spun around, drawing their weapons quickly and facing Wallace. Most just stared right up at his face, but some let their gaze linger on his blood-stained lance. He was a whole head taller than all of them, but he knew his tall stature didn’t necessarily mean anything.

“Who dares barge into the lair of the Tailver Bandits?!” one of the bandits bellowed, stepping forward and staring at Wallace with fiery eyes. He wasn’t particularly tall, in fact he was one of the shorter bandits, but his gaze was the most focused.

Before replying, Wallace glanced around the building. It was surprisingly empty, it was obviously just a meeting place. A celebration chamber. Whatever. There was nothing there except for the bandits, a single table and the chairs they’d been seated in. An empty barrel of alcoholic drink in the corner. Nothing else.

“I am Wallace, knight of Caelin!” Wallace announced in a loud, booming voice as he stepped through the broken doorway. His voice was authoritative, it commanded attention. “And this night, you will all fall by my hand as my lance pierces your hearts!”

The bandits were speechless for a moment, seemingly taken back by the boldness of the tall knight standing before them. Then after a moment, they all burst out laughing.

“You must’ve never heard of us, old man!” the focused bandit laughed. “Guess we’ll have to teach ya!”

Wallace narrowed his brow as a battle-hungry grin spread across his face. He may be old, completely bald, and pale-skinned, but he was more skilled than they knew. “I’ve heard of you filth, but you’ve never heard of me. You’ll soon learn.” He banged a fist on his armor, the silver breastplate he wore shimmering. “Your weapons will bounce off my breast as I cut you all down!”

The bandit flinched as a scowl formed, his expression showing he was clearly taken back and surprised at the retort. He took a few steps back and raised his sword, pointing it at Wallace. “Get him, boys!”

The bandits shoved the table and chairs out of the way, and then two of the bandits charged forward at the same time, but they were easily dispatched. Wallace took a quick step to his right, swinging his lance around so the side and the blunt end of the long weapon hit the bandits on the back of the head, and hit hard. He swung with all of his might, his lance made a sickening cracking sound as it connected with their skulls. Blood sprayed lightly and immediately seeped from their wounds. The first bandit was sent straight into the corner of the broken doorway and bounced off like a ragdoll, and the second went face-first into the wall, also bouncing off. Both fell flat on their backs, faces bloodied. Both were dead.

The other bandits flinched, and a brief look of shock flashed across their faces. But it lasted for the briefest of moments before they all gazed at him again, weapons ready for battle.

Another bandit charged him, this one wielding an axe. Wallace didn’t sidestep this time, this time he brought his lance up for a parry stance and let the bandit come. The bandit charged in, using his full body weight to swing his axe down at Wallace. The Caelin knight wore a grin as he pushed his lance forward, blocking the blow and sending the bandit stumbling backwards two steps.

And quick as lightning, as the bandit stumbled back, Wallace swung his lance across the bandit’s torso, slicing his belly open. The bandit dropped to the floor, dead.

The other bandits flinched again, rage flashing in their eyes. They gazed from their dead comrade to Wallace. And then all at once, they charged him.

And so the battle began.

Wallace swung his lance upwards at a diagonal angle as the bandits all charged at him, catching two of them and slicing them open from their groins to their necks, lifting them into the air and throwing them like ragdolls ad the lance went up.

Fifteen bandits left.

The tall knight leaped backwards and slammed his lance down at another bandit, slicing the thug straight through the left shoulder and rendering that arm useless. As the bandit cried out in pain and dropped his weapon, another swung his axe at Wallace, and the Caelin knight parried the blow and kicked the bandit right in the belly with his boot, sending the attacker straight back several feet. He then swung his lance back at the wounded bandit, slicing the throat expertly. Blood sprayed out as the bandit fell to the floor, dead.


The kicked bandit scrambled back to his feet, joining his comrades in the attack on Wallace. He and two others leaped at Wallace, swinging swords and axes, but Wallace jumped backwards again, this time at a diagonal angle. Landing on the door he’d sent flying earlier, he stood a bit taller and swung his lance down, slamming it into two of the attacking bandits. One bandit dropped his weapon at the force of the lance, the other was forcibly sent careening into the third, his sword going through his comrade’s belly on accident. With one bandit shocked at his accidental murder of his companion and the other scrambling to pick up his fallen weapon, Wallace cut them both down.


The bandits were beginning to show fear now, some backed off while others stood where they were shaking in their boots. Another lunged at Wallace, this one holding his axe in a defensive manner and going a little lower, at Wallace’s legs. The tall knight hopped off the door and swung his lance, forcing the bandit to parry the blow and catch the lance with the hooked end of the blade of his axe. With his lance hooked, Wallace shoved his lance upwards, forcing the bandit to raise his arms as the lance lifted his axe. With his arms raised, Wallace kicked the bandit in the knee as hard as he could. The knee made a sickening cracking noise as his boot connected with it and the bandit screamed in pain, dropping his axe entirely and dropping to his side, his hands clutching at his knee. With the bandit down, Wallace thrust his spear into the man’s side, killing him.


As Wallace was thrusting his spear into the bandit, another one attacked him from the side, swinging his sword in a slicing motion. Wallace saw it from the corner of his eye and jumped backwards just in time, the sword bouncing harmlessly off his silver breastplate. But now he was weaponless, his spear was stuck in a corpse. Thinking quickly, he took another step backwards, towards the door. Bending over, he picked up the door and laughed maniacally. “Even with a door, I will crush you!”

The bandits all scowled, some of the fear leaving their eyes.

The bandit that had attacked him rushed forward again, but he slammed the door straight down as hard as he could, bringing it down right on the man’s skull, crushing it and killing him. The bandit dropped to the floor, his head compressed in, obviously dead.


Two more bandits charged, one charging from his left and the other from his right. The door was heavier than his lance and he couldn’t maneuver it as well, so he flung it to his left and charged to his right as soon as the door had left his hands. The door smacked the bandit cleanly in the chest, breaking his ribs and causing some of the broken ribs to pierce his heart and lungs, killing him. As for the bandit charging from the right, Wallace ran straight at him and tackled him to the ground before he could swing his weapon. Using his bear fists, he punched the bandit in the face repeatedly, blood flowing from the bandit after a few punches. Wallace beat the man until he was dead, his fist bloodied and the bandit’s face compressed.


One of the bandits cried out in fear and tried to flee, zipping past Wallace and running straight for the open doorway. Quick as lightning, Wallace scooped up the sword of the man he’d just beaten and threw it right into the back of the fleeing bandit, killing him.


The bandits all scurried backwards now in a panic, frantically swinging their weapons in an attempt to keep Wallace at bay as they backed towards the wall. The Caelin knight casually walked to the corpse with his lance sticking out of it and pulled the lance out, then slowly walked towards the six remaining thugs.

“Are you too cowardly to face me?” he bellowed. “Is this the feared Taliver Bandits I’ve heard so much about? Is this the same group that slaughtered the Lorca tribe of Sacae? You filth couldn’t take anyone in a fair fight. You can only fight with dirty tricks and dishonorable tactics, like poisoning water supplies. Cowards! You don’t deserve your lives!”

The bandits made no reply. Sweat beaded their foreheads, fear shone in their eyes.

With a battle cry, Wallace charged forward, thrusting his lance through the heart of the nearest bandit, then swinging both his lance and the bandit into the next nearest thug, knocking the man to the ground and flinging the corpse off the lance. With the man on the ground, Wallace stabbed him straight through the gut, then charged at the rest. One bandit frantically swung at him, but he easily disarmed and killed the thug, slicing his chest open and killing him. He then thrust his lance forward, stabbing and killing the next bandit.

“No! NO!” one of the two remaining bandits pleaded, falling to his rear and scooting away in fear as he watched his comrades die.

Wallace looked at the pleading man, but there was no mercy in his eyes. He walked towards the coward and stabbed the man straight through the chest.

One. Only one bandit remained now.

“Is this it?” Wallace said as he turned to face the final bandit, his armor stained red with blood and his brow narrowed. “This is all you could offer me?”

This final bandit just happened to be the focused one that had spoken earlier, when he’d first entered the building. The bandit shook his head rapidly, quickly walking backwards in a panic. He dropped his weapon and tripped over his own feet, falling to his rear.

“Please…” the bandit pleaded as he began to cry. “Please! Mercy! Have mercy!”

Wallace stared at the crying man, appalled at the pathetic display. He burst out laughing as he slowly walked towards the bandit, his head thrown back in his howling laughter. “Mercy?! The Lorca tribe. Hassar. Madelyn. Did you show any of them mercy?” He shook his head once, his grip on his lance tightening. “No. You don’t get mercy.”

Then, in a single, swift motion, he threw his lance at the bandit. The lance flew straight and true, piercing the bandit and going straight through his heart, killing him.

Zero. No bandits remained.

Wallace stood there for a good, long moment. He looked to the right, then the left, then ahead and behind. Twenty bandits lay dead, blood and guts everywhere. He pried his lance out of the corpse and slowly left the building, stepping over the corpse of the bandit that had tried to flee and walking through the broken doorway. Just to be safe, he checked the other buildings of the hideout, but found they were all empty.

There were truly no bandits left. He had wiped them all out.

Satisfied, Wallace left the valley. As he walked along the path, he glanced over his shoulder and looked back at the now-empty hideout.

“It is finished, Lady Lyndis.”

The Taliver Bandits were no more."

Edited by eclipse
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Hey, props to the dinkleberg that wrote this, eh? Eh? :P:

What is a dinkleberg? Also, are you insinuating that you are Canadian?

I enjoyed reading this story. There is a lot of 'piercing of the hearts'. At some point the vivid imagery became absurd and I could not help but laugh. Well done.

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What is a dinkleberg? Also, are you insinuating that you are Canadian?

I enjoyed reading this story. There is a lot of 'piercing of the hearts'. At some point the vivid imagery became absurd and I could not help but laugh. Well done.

It was a reference to a cartoon :P: I'm not Canadian, no.

Thanks! :D:

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It was a reference to a cartoon :P: I'm not Canadian, no.

Thanks! :D:

OH! You are the dinkleberg. By the way, you are only allowed to say or type "eh" if you are Canadian, sorry. : P

Edited by Shaman
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Wallace! It took me a bit to think of who the heck he is because I have never once used him when I had another option. I liked the story, though it toed the line between serious and silly so I'm not sure of the overall tone you wanted to convey. Wallace's countdown of bandits was quite amusing. Also, he seemed like a speedy little bugger when fighting (the RNG goddess must have liked him quite a bit, yeah?). There were some places that could have used a little word variation and the language was a touch clunky or awkward in parts, but not enough to take away from my enjoyment of the story.

"Even with a door I will crush you!"- This. This made me laugh, especially when I imagined a title card saying 'Splat!' flashing across the action when said door crushed a bandit.

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You used pretty simple, straightforward language, but managed to get your point across quite well. I liked the concept, Wallace getting his hands dirty so Lyn wouldn't have to, and the execution was pretty good for the most part.

I didn't like when you said "spilling the alcoholic poison everywhere." Prejudicial language like this with clear value judgments can go a long way to alienating readers who do not share your beliefs on the matter. If it was part of the central theme of your work, it would be a different matter, as while they might still disagree with your conclusion they could appreciate that you were attempting to give it serious treatment, but this was such a once-off comment that it really stood out to me.

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I assure you I was not being prejudiced, nor was I judging values or interjecting my own beliefs. It was a "Wallace hates these guys. These guys are drinking this. Wallace thinks this is poison, because the guys drinking it are vermin." moment. I'd have written the same if they were drinking water or juice. But really...what kind of bandit is going to drink juice after a successful raid?

I have no problem with people drinking alcohol.

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