Snow swirled in the constant breeze that swept through the frosted rocks of the Aquiq Mountains. Slowly making her way along a barely visible path through the only pass, Mist held her fur lined cloak ever tighter. A mask was taut across her face and the hood was pulled low over her brow, leaving only the barest twinkle of her eyes visible, though even that was almost entirely hidden in the drifting snow. All around the young woman was silent except for the mournful wailing of the wind passing around the craggy rocks, and the crunching of the snow beneath her boots. Ahead of her, she could just make out the crouching bulk of an old way station nestled between two outcroppings of rock. As she got closer, she could see that the structure hadn’t been well maintained, but that wasn’t surprising considering that most people tended to take the longer but safer journey along the seaside road along the other side of the mountains.
As Mist came close to the door at the front of the building, she saw a brief glimpse of a small fire burning in the central fireplace. Before she could make out anything else inside, there was a shout and a trio of men in mismatched armor with ill maintained weapons dashed out of the doorway. Mist didn’t move, instead she watched as the men fanned out, with one swaggering straight at her, and the other two swinging wide around either side of her.
“Ho traveler!” the one in the center called, likely the leader judging from his marginally better equipment. “Not exactly the best weather to be traveling in. Perhaps you might come indoors…just until the weather breaks?”
“I’m fine right here, actually,” she replied to the swarthy man.
“Yeah, this ain’t a case where you can say no, girlie,” the orc said with a laugh. Mist noted he had a rather eye-catching metal ball in place of one of his hands.
“Be that as it may, I just did,” Mist calmly countered, though she couldn’t resist a slight smirk from crossing her face; fortunately, between the snow and her mask, it went unnoticed by anyone but her.
“Come on, boss, let’s just get it over with, I’m freezing my tail off here!” shouted the third of the group – a stocky wolf with a scar tracing one side of his face over an unseeing eye.
The “boss” huffed – Mist could see the cloud of his breath as he did so – before saying, “Fine, let’s get this over with, and try to save the cape if you can, I like the look of it.”
The two others smiled wide as they closed in on Mist, thinking they must have had an easy target, maybe even frozen in fright or something considering that she didn’t move even as they stalked towards her, brandishing their weapons. Their thoughts were cut short as – quick as lightning – Mist threw one side of her cloak back, before a thunderous bang rippled through the winter air. The wolf fell to the ground, the previously untouched side of his face now mangled even worse than the scared side.
Before either of the other two brigands could realize what happened, Mist turned towards the orc and there was another loud crack. Unfortunately, the orc had lifted the crude replacement for a hand in shock, and the metal happened to deflect the crimson bolt that flew from the pistol still smoking in Mist’s hand. Mist was more than a little upset at not downing her target, which gave the orc a chance to respond. With a throaty roar, he charged at the smaller human. Mist recovered, quickly slipping beneath the ham-fisted swing of the ball that would have crushed her skull. She then easily dodged the swing of the short sword that tried to separate her arm from the rest of her, before driving the barrel of her weapon into the orc’s chest. The blast was muffled somewhat, but still enough to shake some of the nearby hanging snow free. He lurched back, and a second shot knocked him backwards to lie still in the snow.
“Bloody frell!” the human shouted, trying to duck behind one of the large boulders that peaked through the snow. “Miriam, where the fu—“ he started to call out, but didn’t get much further after another bolt flew from Mist; this one taking out his throat.
He staggered several more steps, his sword dropping to the ground and both hands reaching up to prod the still smoking hole that had appeared below his chin. A fleeting look of alarm crossed his face before he pitched forwards into the snow. Mist didn’t relax, between the report from the one trader that had encountered this group survived – though he was half mad from exposure – and what the human was saying, there was supposed to be a fourth around here somewhere. Almost as if on cue, an arrow punched into the ground just next to Mist’s foot. She lunged to the side, darting for one of the boulders herself, as two more arrows plunged into the snow, narrowly missing their mark. Skidding behind the black rock, Mist holstered the pistol, and traded it for the rifle slung across her back. Of dwarven make like the pistol, the rifle was Mist’s preferred means of attack, but the bulkier long barreled weapon wasn’t so handy for being covert or for close–in work, so she had opted to go in with the pistol in hand instead. She was somewhat regretting not being to find a nice quiet spot to take them out from range now, but couldn’t dwell on what was past.
Bracing the rifle against her shoulder, Mist edged the barrel around her cover, keeping her gaze locked down the scope running the length of the barrel. Judging from way the arrows struck, the last target had to be on the bluff around the back of the way station. Scanning along the rocky ridge and ignoring the snow that tried to blind her, she saw a ripple of movement and was about to fire, when a humanoid shape fell to the ground and lay there unmoving. Suppressing a grin, Mist returned the rifle to its place under the back of her cloak, and marched over to the corpse of the fourth bandit.
Looking up at the rock towering over her, she called out, “I was starting to wonder if you were going to show up before everything was over!”
Briefly, a face appeared over the edge of the cliff, before retreating back. Soon after, the face and whole rest of the person hopped over the edge, sliding down the rough rock face to a shambling stop at the bottom. With a grumble only partially muted by the cold-weather gear, the figure stood up, revealing Mist’s partner.
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