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Drip-Fed – Hoarding 10 – The Bandit Camp Lifestyle
🕑 Added 2022-05-11 12:22:27 +0000 UTC“Aclysia!” Apexus shouted, causing the metal fairy to stick her head out of the tent. She had hoped for news that it was either safe to bathe or, preferably, that water had been brought back to the camp. Instead, she saw her beloved carrying an unconscious and bleeding man towards them, closely followed by two wary men with clubs.
Hastily she left the tent, the skirt of her dress fluttering as she flew over and met her beloved ten metres out from their tent. Korith and Reysha were also pulled towards the ruckus, closing in just as Apexus carefully placed the man down. A quick inspection later, Aclysia breathed a sigh of relief. A cracked skull was a terrible injury for mundane treatments. By means of magic, it was an easy treatment. The fractured bone was still in the correct position and nothing was lodged in the gap.
Golden light enveloped her hands, warm like sunrays in the summer, and mended the injury. “How did this occur?” she asked, the slow healing taking only a small part of her concentration.
“They attempted to chastise me for fucking Reysha in the open,” Apexus put it directly. “I was careless with one punch. I made him fly towards the rocks, rather than the water. He hit his head.”
Reysha snickered. “I think he hit his head well before today.”
“Watch what you’re saying, you screaming cunt,” one of them sneered at the tiger girl. A thoroughly unwise decision, as he stood in arm’s reach of the slime. An elbow rammed into his guts. The young man bowed forwards and retched. Hard, he swallowed, desperately trying to keep his balance and his breakfast. He lost both, collapsing on all fours before vomiting a thin stew.
The last of the trio was torn between swinging his club and booking it. In doing neither, he made it easy for Apexus to grab him by the collar and lift him up. To get the message across just how far outmatched they were, the humanoid chimera shook the man like an adult would shake an unruly child. When the club hit the grass, the marauder was quick to follow. Both of them were unable to stand up.
“I could have killed all three of you.” Apexus’ controlled, almost tranquil, tone had more of an effect on the two conscious bandits than threats ever would have. “You make sure this one does not make a ruckus when he wakes up.”
“O-okay,” Korith nodded. She wasn’t wearing her armour, but had her warhammer at the ready.
“You two, show me to your camp,” Apexus demanded.
There was no immediate answer, leaving Aclysia to hiss, “Do not spoil your potential divinity further by leaving my darling to wait.”
For the crowd, the words were poorly chosen, yet the tone delivered the intent. They attempted to rise to their feet. Apexus offered a hand to each of them. The one he had shaken accepted hesitantly. The other swatted it aside and got up on his own. Apexus gave them a light slap in return. “If you refuse help, do not be disrespectful about it,” he chided.
The young bandit spat on the slime’s feet. “Fuck off with your advice bullshit.”
What he had just done dawned on the man when Apexus reduced the distance between them to less than a hand width. It took half a second of looking up at the much taller, much broader male for the marauder to stumble backwards, fearing physical retaliation. He almost fell in the process, barely catching himself and readied his club.
Apexus deemed it unnecessary to smack the man again. “Learn not to disrespect me or my loves, then,” he said in a commanding tone. “Lead me to your camp.” Offering no further resistance, aside from dragging their feet and mumbling something under their breaths, the two men marched ahead of the slime.
While they walked, Apexus took a moment to look at them not as threats but as individuals. Both were young men of able body. Neither was good looking. One had a pudgy face and piggish nose, fitting with the fat that layered on top of the muscles. The other was of regular build, his face long, and a piece of his upper lip distorted, revealing crooked teeth. His eyes sat deep in his head, not due to a lack of sleep, but misfortune in the lottery of life. The latter of the two was who had spat out the majority of the abrasive remarks, the leader of the group, and the one Apexus had made vomit moments earlier.
“What are your names?” Apexus wanted to know.
The two young men looked at each other, then the leader spoke up again. “I’m Tielner, this is Gore.”
“Is that a chosen name?”
“Fuck if I know.”
“Why answer for him then?” Apexus asked and received no answer in return. Establishing eye contact with Gore, he repeated the question. “Did you choose that name?”
“Yes,” the pudgy man responded. “Got a problem?”
“No.” Silence spread out between the three of them. It was quickly filled by the morning buzz of the camp. Most of the bandits were awake by now and reigniting campfires that had gone out over the night to get the cold of the night out of their bones and heat up whatever meagre meals they could produce.
Eyes tracked the slime and his companions as they made their way through. The ground, a difficult to traverse mixture of mud and soft patches of grass, gave way under their feet. When inside it, the true sprawl of the camp became apparent. Tents were put together in clusters, with ample space to walk between. The individual cliques of the camp were outlined by which groups were close to each other.
The trio had their camp at an isolated spot, as isolated as it could be on a craggy highland slope, by the river. It was a horrible spot. Two of the three tents were drenched from water they pulled out of a puddle that formed in a depression. The still water reeked of stagnancy. Moving away from it was made impossible by a boulder that jutted out of the landscape, behind which a larger group of better tents was located.
Although their living conditions were horrid, they had a single item of worth. A cauldron, large enough to be used by a cackling witch, of black cast iron. They had gotten it during a raid. No one had taken it from them yet, only because it was too large to be useful for the rest of the camp.
To Apexus, it was a pleasant surprise. Having seen Tielner vomit the ingredients of a stew, he had hoped they had a pot or something like that. This exceeded his expectations by a long shot. He bowed over the pot, to find some remains of the stew still inside. “Finish that,” he ordered them. “Then wash it out, fill it with as much water as you can carry, and bring it to my camp. You can take it back in the evening. Repeat that tomorrow.”
The two men were visibly unhappy, yet kept their mouths shut. They had come to understand that they were underneath Apexus in the pecking order. If he wanted to ‘rent’ their cauldron over the day and have them get water for him, all they could do was accept the task, risk a beating, or go to another faction for help.
“If you are harassed during this task, tell me,” Apexus added, calm as ever. “I will take care of it.”
Instinctive nods met that addition. Unhappiness made room for acceptance. When protection was included, working for someone more powerful went from tyranny to a beneficial agreement. Having sorted this out, Apexus left them so the leader could refill his stomach. There was something else he wanted to get done, before he went after the rest of the day.
Scanning through the camp, he quickly located the Berserker with the pale red skin that Korith had fought yesterday. He was part of a larger clique, all of whom were avoiding the guy. Occasionally, he shivered and his torso had a sheen of cold sweat all over it. The shattered thigh and crushed manhood had caused a fever, his body desperately trying to recover from the internal damage. While this crippling impairment made the Berserker a liability for his clique, it was the reaction to the mental wounds that made everyone truly stay away. A wounded animal was dangerous.
Bloodshot eyes, barely even human, turned to Apexus as he stepped up to the red-skinned man. Standing, he would have been even larger than the slime (in his current, chosen form). “What?” the giant growled.
“We can heal you,” Apexus offered.
“Piss off,” the Berserker answered immediately.
Apexus contemplated that answer. The internal injuries would become inflamed, in the conditions they were living in. At best, the Berserker would be bedridden for several weeks and come out with a defective leg. At worst, and much more likely, he would die, the fever exhausting him to the point of delirium.
“I – said – PISS OFF!” the Berserker yelled, throwing a wooden bowl in Apexus’ direction. The Monk-in-training did not have to dodge. In order to catch it, he had to take a swift step to the left.
The humanoid chimera placed the bowl down in reach of the Berserker. “The offer remains,” he said, then retreated back to his camp. For now, that was enough in terms of establishing themselves in the camp. There were other matters that needed taking care off.
When he returned to the camp, he found the third of the assailant trio awake, confused, and inappropriately leering at his women. Apexus felt barely anything at that display of misplaced desire. Like the other two, this young man was of below average looks. His face was covered with pox scars, and his nose was too small for his face. Beyond his physical appearance, his status in the camp and world at large made him unattractive. Had he had any kind of physical supremacy over his partners, Apexus would have felt the urge to reign the bandit in before he attempted anything rape-y. Since magic left all three of the women able to defeat the man themselves, one way or another, his desires were about as bothersome as the smell of urine at a town square. Unwanted, yet not unusual enough to do something about.
With Apexus back in his field of vision, the bandit quickly assumed a submissive body language, averting his eyes and staying quiet until talked to. “Your name?” Apexus asked.
“Meltz.”
“Meltz,” Apexus repeated the name to commit it to memory. ‘Is that a self-given name based on ‘melt’?’ he thought. It didn’t interest him enough to ask. “Gore and Tielner will come here to deliver water. Go help them. I’ll have questions for you when you come back.”
The announcement only added to the general sense of confusion the young man felt. Flexibility was what let people survive around here, so he didn’t let that emotion stop him. Rising to his feet, he quickly made his way back to the camp, to return later.
“What’s that about water?” Korith asked.
“They got a big cauldron.” Apexus underlined his words by drawing the dimensions with gestures. “I figured we could use it for bath water.”
“That would be majorly appreciated,” Aclysia commented. The thought of having to clean herself in the cold river did not appeal, for several reasons. Least of all was that it was cold. “We require material to heat the water with, however.”
“We also need to get food sorted,” Korith added.
“We could just take it from everyone else,” Reysha suggested.
Apexus did not find that option appealing. “Would barely be enough and not taste good.” He turned to look back at the main camp. “I want to ask them where they get their food when they get back.”
With that established, the quartet settled in and waited for the arrival of their water. It did not take too long for them to spot the three bandits moving out of their camp with the cauldron. They did remember to wash it out – thoroughly. Now that the adrenaline had worn off and their comrade was returned to them intact, an instinctive obedience settled in. Most humanoids were adapted to settle into hierarchies and to do what was necessary to stay out of trouble. Even bandits, with their high-risk, varying-reward lifestyle, followed that pattern.
The cauldron was hauled the distance from the river, over a hundred metres, up a slope, curving through various rocks. It only had two handles, so one of the three served only as an observer for potential obstacles. Eventually, they arrived at the campsite, two of them heavily breathing, and placed down the cast-iron object, filled half with water.
“You did well,” Apexus complimented them. The positive reinforcement did not fall on entirely deaf ears. Grabbing the handles of the cauldron, the humanoid slime, on his own, picked it up and moved it to the centre of their camp. The feat of raw strength was the last display the men needed to develop some proper respect for the slime. “Take your shirts off and sit.”
Following the order, odd as it was, the three bandits sat down with their back to the main camp. Aclysia used a particularly large rag they had in their adventurer’s bag to serve as a rudimentary lid for the cauldron. It served to keep some of the heat in, when she directed her magic at the bottom of the iron and heated up the insides.
Getting it to steaming hot with her magic alone was a pipedream. Slightly above lukewarm was as good as it got. Given the autumn breeze of the environment, that was already pleasant. Apexus tossed the trio a rag each and then grabbed one himself. “Clean yourself,” he said and started to wipe himself off with the warm water.
The three of them, being humans with sweat and dead skin covering their surface area, were in greater need of such cleansing than the slime. Having lived in poor medical conditions for their entire lives, it did not bother them. It still felt pleasant when they scrubbed some of the accumulated grime off.
“So, how did ya three get stuck in this shithole?” Reysha asked, lying on her belly a few metres removed.
Gore and Meltz looked to Tielner, who answered for all of them. “Nothing unusual. We wanted something to eat, so we joined a group that’s typically successful in their raids.”
“This’ll be a giant thought, so maybe ya can’t follow me on this one,” Reysha sarcastically retorted, “considered joining someone who grows the food instead of stealing it?”
Tielner blew air out of his nose. When he opened his mouth, his eyes quickly focused on the claws pushing out of the tiger girl’s nailbeds. Blood red, they were almost as unnerving as the near pitch black of her sclera. Across the many races, the eyes were near constant in their looks. Even as little as a colour change to the white made the redhead a little bit alien. The dangerous glint in the blue did the rest.
Almost well-mannered, the marauder answered, “You get your food stolen or steal the food, that’s all the fucking choices we have out here.”
“Wrong,” Apexus denied.
“Why did you come here then?” Tielner shot back.
“Because I was looking for a dragon,” Apexus answered truthfully, albeit in a manner that did not reveal the entirety of his intentions. “Witnessing this camp makes me sad. I want you all to live up to a higher potential. I will do my best to see that through in my time here.”
“You’re adventurers, you got somewhere else to go,” Gore mumbled quietly.
“Are you here to kill Kaladar?” Tielner asked.
Apexus elected not to answer that, which was almost the same as giving a straight yes. “How does this camp function?” he switched the topic. While they answered, he washed out his rag to continue cleaning himself.
“Same as all tribes around here function.” Tielnar shrugged and gestured around. “Land barely produces anything, so what we have eventually gets scarce and we go out taking it from someone else. Sometimes Kaladar leads us on a raid against another dragon. That’s usually when we get the fattest bounty.”
“So, you raid either for survival or for Kaladar’s entertainment?”
“He gets hungry too. Better he gorges himself on some fuckwits up the coast than us. Sometimes we have to bring him food.” All three of them were too busy wiping themselves off with the rare treat of warm water to really notice how interested the adventurers got all of a sudden. “Sometimes the camp’s too hurt to go on another raid immediately, so we throw him some prisoners so we can relax a few more days. Works like a cha-”
“You should get us fresh water,” Apexus interrupted, harshly. “My partners deserve to get properly clean.”
It took them three seconds to recover from the whiplash they had from the previously friendly behaviour. When faced with the wide-eyed stare of the unnervingly calm stranger, they obliged swiftly. They grabbed the cauldron and moved it out of the camp. In their haste, they forgot that they could rid themselves of much of the weight if they just emptied it.
“You really think it’s worth helping any of these people ‘live up to their higher potential’?” Reysha asked.
“I don’t know,” the humanoid slime responded truthfully. “What do you think?”
“To be fair to me, for a second, I never got that fucking awful,” Reysha responded. “I wanted to fucking murder everyone who had a hand in you getting killed. Naively unleashed Apotho in the process, helped him wipe out a city and whatever else he’s up to now. I’m a horrible, short-sighted cunt, that’s established and all – but at least I never threw some captives to a fucking dragon for a vacation day.”
“With all due respect, I regard these people as fundamentally lost, darling,” Aclysia agreed. “It may be possible to motivate change among some of them. Such would be the work of years, I reckon, which is time we do not have.”
“Some parts of the world just… suck,” Korith added.
Apexus quietly nodded.
