CH-1, First Impressions

They say that first impressions are important.   First impressions, I can't help but smile as I think about that as the thief in front of us walks closer.  Well dressed for a thief.  
There are two more thieves coming around the sides.  One to the left, one to the right.  I almost didn't notice them though the thick spiny thorn infested bushes they call trees down here.  Almost. but it doesn't matter, I can't run and leave Gwen, I'm out numbered, again, and wouldn't be able to fight with these odds.

I hang my head and start to laugh.  how could it possibly get worse.  The man approaching in front stops and shouts in anger, "YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY?!?!"
"No, but you're not the first thief to stop us since we left our home in the Northlands, and to be honest, I've lost count."  Our home, if it were still our home we wouldn't be in this godforsaken country.

Gwen walked up closer behind me and turned to guard my back, "There's another one over there'. pointing to her left", she said.
It was the thief's turn to laugh, "YES, and on the other side as well, so you'd best stop making excuses."

I took a deep breath and tried to think of options.  Most of the thieves we'd been robbed by did so out of desperation.  Don't misunderstand, I don't condone their actions, but my first impressions of them were that they had nothing to lose.  They were dressed in rags that didn't even qualify as clothing.  some only stole food.  Some only stole enough money to buy food.  This one, this man standing before me was well fed, reasonably well dressed and hardly desperate.  His coat had no rips or tares.  It was missing no buttons.  the shiny brass buttons of his vest were what i had seen of him first.  There was a shiny brass chain that came out from the vest and into one of the vest pockets.  A pocket watch I would guess.  I didn't think him for a highwayman just because he seemed so much better off than we were.  Now i know why.
"Sir, you are not so poorly off that you need what little we have.  We've been picked clean time and time again by your brothers in trade and there is nothing left.  I don't have so much as a water bag left to my name"

His anger growing still he said, "What did I tell you about excuses!?!?, you will pay me the value of time my time!  Do you think I come out here on this dusty road for my health? I've traveled,,,"
Gwen elbowed my ribs, "There's a forth coming up behind us"
That figures.  

Suddenly the thief was angry with someone other than us.  
"Old man! what do you think you are doing?  We are engaging in a business transaction here and you are interrupting!" he shouted.
I chanced a look behind to see who this newcomer was.  A grayed haired old man stood in the middle of the road with a sword.  probably late 50s or early 60s.  Oddly dressed.  Most people either wear rags of poverty or the trinket covered fineries of the well to do.  He wore simple but clean light tan pants and a lose fitting shirt.  A pack was slung over his right shoulder and a recurve bow over his left.

He smiled at Gwen and asked, "My pardons young lady, If I'm interrupting, I'd be more than happy to be on my way"
I was still trying to decide if this forth person was insane, just one more thief among others or if he was so well armed because he knew these roads to be so dangerous.  Gwen, always the faster with words, replied, "Sir, we were looking to purchase directions, but sadly we were not able to afford this gentleman's rates.  Would you be so kind as to give us directions to Marble?  we would be forever grateful."
The old man smiled, "Marble?, why would you need to pay for directions when you are already on the right road and less than a half days walk to go?"
The thief shouted out as if he were afraid of being forgotten, "Oldman!!, go about your way.  I have things well in hand and there is no need for your interference!"
The two thieves who had been circling around us came out of the brushes and into clear view.  Although their attire was not to the same standard, they were obviously trying.  Their boots and clothing were decorated with numerous buttons and trinkets made from brass and other shiny materials.  As the current style went, they were trying to empress.  Trying, but not succeeding.  They carried crossbows of a design i had not seen before.  Longer than usual, but with extra parts and mechanisms.  Everything that could be polished was.  The old man was not impressed, and mumbled something about a "cheap copy".  

"My name is Michael of the Guildsmen.  There is no need for conflict.  There is no need for anyone to come to harm." he said with an all too calm of a voice.  The two companions seemed to recognize the name and no longer carried the proud cocky posture they had a moment ago.
The first thief, still standing in the middle of the road ahead of us broke out laughing, "You've
got to be kidding me oldman!"  

The thief turned to his companions and nodded.  The companion held up his crossbow with one hand and with the other slid the foregrip up and back down twice.  This drew back the bow and loaded a bolt on to the guide.  If it weren't pointed at my sister and myself I'd be a much more fascinated.  The old man was still not impressed.  

He just repeated, "this isn't necessary, there is no need for anyone to get hurt."

The companion with the crossbow looked back and forth between us and his boss.  Waiting for instructions.  The thief pointed to the old man and said, "He has more worth taking anyway.  We can deal with these two after you kill the old fart."
The companion with the crossbow turned and fired on the old man. Fired on Michael.

I must admit i had never seen a man of that age move that fast.  As the crossbowman turned, Michael raised his sword.  when the crossbowman squinted his eye to aim, Michael spun his sword from an edge on attitude to an attitude showing the larger blunt side of the sword to the approaching bolt.  Then a scream and a thud as a body fell to the ground.

"I really am getting too old for this sort of thing" Michael said, no longer in his relaxed tone.  "and i don't appreciate being put in this position" he continued as he began walking towards the leader of the thieves.  As he passed the crossbowman who had just fired on him, i noticed an arrow in the mans chest.  A long arrow about 30 inches or so.  It hadn't come from one of the crossbows.
Michael let his pack fall to the ground with a heavy thud.  While carrying the pack he had made it look weightless.  He paused for a moment to lay his bow on the ground as if it were a new born child, never taking his eyes off of the leader of the thieves.

“Tristan? What now?”, the remaining minion said in panic as he stared at his dead companion.  
My first impression of Tristan was that he was angry with us for being on his road.  When Michael came up and introduced himself I saw that with Gwen and myself it was nothing personal.  What Tristan thought of as hate was something he reserved for special occasions.  When his companion used his real name in front of us, I had no doubt we were going to be treated to one such occasion.  

“You twit!, shoot them all or I'll kill you”, Tristan ranted.  
With what I had to wonder.  He was only armed with a small blade and his fellow thief had a loaded crossbow.  Tristan's weapon was between a dagger and a short sword in size, with a polished surface, hilt, and numerous embeded stones.  It was more a show piece than a weapon.  Loud and flashy with little function or other redeeming qualities.  Just like Tristan I began to realize.  
There was an awkward silence as the only sounds were those of Michael's foot steps in the sand and lose rocks of the road.  
I felt Gwen rib me in the back as she said, “Kyle, we have more company.”

Michael sprinted forward with his long sword held ready for a strike to Tristan's head or neck.
Just when I thought Tristan was going to lose his head Michael stated again, “There is no need for conflict.  There is no need for anyone to come to harm."  I glanced over to the other remaining thief to see the new company Gwen had spoke of.  A young woman stood behind the thief.  She wore clothing similar to that of Michael.  Tan, lose fitting, clean, with a crossbow slung over her shoulder.  Her long red hair was tied back behind her head but wipped around with the wind.  She had a blade in her right hand pressed against the back of her prey's neck and her left had a hand full of his hair.  He was speechless.

Two others, dressed the same as Michael and the young lady, came down from the ridge above us.  They said nothing but seemed to know what was expected of them. The younger one went over to inspect the dead crossbowman and remove what ever weapons he had hidden on his person.  The older went over to assist the young lady.  He disarmed the thief while the you lady continued to insure his cooperation.  Then took what arms he had found and dropped them in a pile behind Michael.  Michael was still in a staring contest with Tristan.  

Then the older went over to Tristan and said with complete resolve, “Sir, I require that you stand down, disarm and withdraw from this place. Any effort to do other than I have asked will result in the death of your companion and yourself.  your weapons you had stashed in the hollow tree by the creek have been removed and 'relocated else where.  Any attempt to retaliate will not be tolerated.  Do you understand these terms?”
Tristan was about to explode.  He glanced over to his useless accomplice and spit out, “you might as well kill him now and save me the trouble of doing it later”
Michael smiled, “you'd better answer his question.  He's not as easy going as I am”

Tristan began to disarm.  He tossed down his jewelled dagger, started pulling out other small knives and what nots from places I certainly wouldn't have put sharp objects.  He turned and started to walk away.  “Lydia, let him go”, Michael called to the young lady.  She release the one she'd had by the hair with the look of disappointment.  He took off running down the road.
Michael turned to Gwen and I and asked, “You're welcome to join us if you like.  we all seem to be going the same way.” and with that they started off on foot towards Marble.  Gwen and I followed them quietly.

We'd been told all sorts of horrible stories of people who live in the Southlands all our lives.  Even in the days of the Old World they were not to be trusted.  Since then we've been told things have only gone down hill.  There have been so many stories ranging from murderers and thieves to out right cannibalism.  Why my cousin chose to come here and make a home is beyond me.

My sister and I had left what we thought was our home in the Northlands when our Mother died of an illness.  The local Mayor decided that we owed him for back taxes.  He produced a document that claimed a payment was already 3 months past due.  He then went on to explain that he would give us the week to sell what we could or move off his land.  My sister Gwen broke down in tears and stayed that way most of the week.   We couldn't believe that people could so openly steal from us what little we had.  We couldn't believe that those who once claimed to be our friends would turn their backs on us so willingly.  

We had traveled across the Northlands, the Midlands, and now the Southlands in search of our cousin who had made this trip years ago to start a new life.  From what we knew he had come to one of the small communities of this area.  I can only hope he had better luck than we did in our journey here.  Over the past few months I've learn that criminals and thieves can take many different colors and shapes.  

First impressions can stay with you forever, or they can be as wrong as night and day.