Niven and Maanica observed, from their comfortable vantage point, the aftermath of the big bad boom: the confusion, the chaos and then the hasty arming and departure of the ‘Olga’ woman, the ringleader and his goons. As soon as their shadows disappeared in the twisty passageway, Niven glanced at his wife, with this swashbuckling glean in his eyes. It was difficult to assess if she saw it, because her attention was firmly placed on the man who stayed behind to guard them.
The brigand was dressed in a grey abaya, belted with a black cloth sash, from which hung a long, curved knife, sheathed in an embroidered, brown scabbard. He hasn't shaved for days, but in better times his face must have been adorned with a black goatee and a moustache. Now however it was just a mess of sweat soaked tangles of dirty curls. He looked around thirty, maybe thirty five. All these details were clearly visible to them, because the man was fast approaching the islanders, only stopping for a second to pick up a pistol, presumably his, from a crate near the cooking station.
-”If ye move beforr de boss coms bak, I shoot you. Dead” - he barked at them in the hoarse voice of a leaf abuser. Then he sat near them, cross legged, took a few pinches of dried leaves from a small pouch, popped them in his mouth and started to chew.
-”Eff dat a fi mi bos,” - said Maanica slowly, and with poorly concealed threat in her voice - “den yuh a as gud as dead.”
-”Shuddup, hore!”
-”Bikaaz what? Eh nuh lakka wi a go anyweh.” - she said in a mocking tone.
-”Bikkaaaz, I faking sed so.” - the man stood up and turned towards them, waving his pistol around - "And bikaaz if ye dun shuddup, I gag ye!"
Maanica laughed derisively.
-"I really wud lakka tuh si yuh try Yuh bastard ah ah camel. ".
The bandit's face, at least the part which was visible, darkened with anger, and he took off towards the prisoners, with clearly violent intent, pulling a blood-stained butcher's rag off his shoulder.
He didn't get far. Niven sprung into action when the guard was about two arm length’s from them. In spite of having a bit of size advantage, the brigand was totally taken by surprise. Niven grabbed him by the waist and pushed as hard as possible, tackling the opponent onto the ground. After a bit of a tussle he ended up on top of his captor, with a stone in his hand, and started to pummelled him in a wild rage. This took just a few moments.
-”Niv. Enuff. Im nuh gwine bi ah threat nuh muh.”
Niven calmed down a little and looked at his wife, who stood right next to them brandishing the brigand's pistol, which she now pointed at the man on the ground. The islander then reluctantly looked at his handiwork. The guard was unconscious and his face resembled… well it didn't really resemble anything, apart from a horrid mess of facial hair, bone fragments, broken skin and blood. A lot of blood. It wasn't out of the realm of possibility that he was, in fact, dead. Niven took a few deep breaths to calm down, then he stood up and dusted himself off.
-”Mek wi grab sum steel an si wah hap'n a ootside.” - he said to his wife.
They quickly searched the camp for some arms, soon arriving at another pistol, a sword and a knife. After checking if the guns were loaded and ready for action - and they were - they looked at each other, smiled aggressively and exchanged nods.
Niven and Maanica observed, from their comfortable vantage point, the aftermath of the big bad boom: the confusion, the chaos and then the hasty arming and departure of the ‘Olga’ woman, the ringleader and his goons. As soon as their shadows disappeared in the twisty passageway, Niven glanced at his wife, with this swashbuckling glean in his eyes. It was difficult to assess if she saw it, because her attention was firmly placed on the man who stayed behind to guard them.
The brigand was dressed in a grey abaya, belted with a black cloth sash, from which hung a long, curved knife, sheathed in an embroidered, brown scabbard. He hasn't shaved for days, but in better times his face must have been adorned with a black goatee and a moustache. Now however it was just a mess of sweat soaked tangles of dirty curls. He looked around thirty, maybe thirty five. All these details were clearly visible to them, because the man was fast approaching the islanders, only stopping for a second to pick up a pistol, presumably his, from a crate near the cooking station.
-”If ye move beforr de boss coms bak, I shoot you. Dead” - he barked at them in the hoarse voice of a leaf abuser. Then he sat near them, cross legged, took a few pinches of dried leaves from a small pouch, popped them in his mouth and started to chew.
-”Eff dat a fi mi bos,” - said Maanica slowly, and with poorly concealed threat in her voice - “den yuh a as gud as dead.”
-”Shuddup, hore!”
-”Bikaaz what? Eh nuh lakka wi a go anyweh.” - she said in a mocking tone.
-”Bikkaaaz, I faking sed so.” - the man stood up and turned towards them, waving his pistol around - "And bikaaz if ye dun shuddup, I gag ye!"
Maanica laughed derisively.
-"I really wud lakka tuh si yuh try Yuh bastard ah ah camel. ".
The bandit's face, at least the part which was visible, darkened with anger, and he took off towards the prisoners, with clearly violent intent, pulling a blood-stained butcher's rag off his shoulder.
He didn't get far. Niven sprung into action when the guard was about two arm length’s from them. In spite of having a bit of size advantage, the brigand was totally taken by surprise. Niven grabbed him by the waist and pushed as hard as possible, tackling the opponent onto the ground. After a bit of a tussle he ended up on top of his captor, with a stone in his hand, and started to pummelled him in a wild rage. This took just a few moments.
-”Niv. Enuff. Im nuh gwine bi ah threat nuh muh.”
Niven calmed down a little and looked at his wife, who stood right next to them brandishing the brigand's pistol, which she now pointed at the man on the ground. The islander then reluctantly looked at his handiwork. The guard was unconscious and his face resembled… well it didn't really resemble anything, apart from a horrid mess of facial hair, bone fragments, broken skin and blood. A lot of blood. It wasn't out of the realm of possibility that he was, in fact, dead. Niven took a few deep breaths to calm down, then he stood up and dusted himself off.
-”Mek wi grab sum steel an si wah hap'n a ootside.” - he said to his wife.
They quickly searched the camp for some arms, soon arriving at another pistol, a sword and a knife. After checking if the guns were loaded and ready for action - and they were - they looked at each other, smiled aggressively and exchanged nods.
