The rain fell silently, the wind still in the dead of night, the leaves of the oak tree swayed slightly only with his deep low breathing. Kinkade, shifted slightly, the solid branches easily supported his weight as he sat at the back of the tree, watching. His face was cold and wet but his eyes burned like white hot fire, burning of anger and hatred. He stared out from his secluded position, two men at least 20 feet away from his hiding spot stood silently, they occasionally exchanged glances and small tid bits of conversation. The first man, a red haired fellow small in stature and wiry thin was the first one to truly break the silence, his voice was just like him, small and high pitched, like he talked through his nose.

“We have the bitch… when do we get a shot?…. I hate how we are always the last ones to ‘enjoy’ the fruits of our labour.” He sniggered, and nudged the man beside him, obviously looking for his approval.

The second fellow, a taller man about 6 feet, smiled in return and just simply nodded. Doing so he stepped forward and slightly to the side revealing his protruding stomach, this man was clearly not made for anything more than guard duty…… Kinkade sneered at the comment, his face blackened by the mud he had smeared on himself to ensure that he could not be seen. He shifted his stance on the tree, gaining slightly better balance and drew his bow with his left hand, in his right he plucked an arrow from the quiver on his back and took careful aim. Kinkade drew the bow back, the wood creaking slightly as the pressure built. Kinkade smiled slightly as he whispered.

“And so, it begins” The shot was released

The Red haired man, jeered again speaking of someone, or something of importance that they had acquired. He nudged the Fat one next to him again seeking approval for the last time. The arrow shot through the night air the faintest of sighs could be heard as the arrow struck him through the throat. The arrow head slit through the skin passing through his jugular vein, severing his vocal cords to protrude out the other side of his neck. He grasped his neck in a vain attempt to dislodge the arrow, however his fate was already sealed. Red Hair turned and fell to his knees then slumped on the cold wet ground with no more sound than a whisper.

The Fat man was on his feet now, looking about for their unseen attacker his breathing heavy, he breathed in to yell to sound the alarm…. The second arrow sailed through the air, neither rain nor fate would deter its course, it stuck with a staggering impact and embedded itself in the Fat Man’s chest, knocking the air out of him, the third arrow sliced through his thin armour and struck him in the stomach spilling blood onto the ground. The Fat one dropped to one knee and in an act of both temper and defiance gripped the first arrow lodged in his chest. His face contorted in pain as he snapped the arrow, throwing the blood stained shaft into the mud…. Kinkade smiled, briefly amused at the act of defiance, he nodded once as a show of respect for living so long before releasing the fourth arrow. The fat man looked forward as if he sensed his impending death, the arrow cut through everything in its path, the air, the rain and the Fat Man’s skull. The arrow buried itself past his forehead, the impact flung him off his knees and onto his back, in the mud that would be his final and only resting place.

Kinkade, slung his bow over his shoulder as he dropped down from his hiding place, landing with a soft thump into the wet mud round the solid oak. His pace quickened as he moved in a wide arc instead of a straight line towards the camp. Keeping low to the ground, he moved like an animal often using his hands to move quicker. Nearing the entrance to the camp he slowed to a crawl and crept towards the two bodies and the entrance to the Bandit camp. He looked about, the rain still lashing down upon him, he removed the Fat Man’s hooded cloak and draped it round himself as he walked past their guard spot. The Camp was set out much like the goblin hide-a-ways, Fenced off areas and walls of spiked wood would work in Kinkade’s advantage… They wouldn’t see him coming. He walked past one tent , its occupant silent most likely slumbering. A small camp fire burned where spit roasted meat was slow cooking over the fire. A seemingly non descript man sat on a makeshift wooden stool, he rose to his feet as Kinkade approached. The hood covered Kinkade’s face, however it wouldn’t work forever, the man walked forward , ready to intercept Kinkade. His movement was not aggressive, however he was cautious, he walked with deliberate steps, his voice gruff and suspicious.

“Dobson? That you?”

Kinkade still continued towards his target, he had no idea how he should respond, so therefore kept his response to the minimum. He nodded his head and in a gruff low voice, that made it sound like he had a heavy head cold he replied.

“Yup, we got trouble.”

The man still acted cautious, however he turned his focus from Kinkade to look past him, from where he came, he frowned slightly nothing overly out of the ordinary.

“Trouble? What kind of trouble?” Kinkade’s response was immediate

“This Kind.”

Kinkade clenched his fingers and made the base of his hand as rigid as possible, in one swift motion he swung his left hand straight at the mans throat, the connecting blow made an almost satisfying crunch sound as his larynx collapses, preventing him for making further sound. Kinkade takes an almost diagonal step towards the man, and circles in behind him. He kicks the mans right leg just behind kneecap forcing him to one knee. Then, forcefully slides his left hand over his mouth and using his thumb pinches his nose. Kinkade’s left hand clamps over the mans mouth preventing further noise and prevents him from breathing through his nose. Using his right hand he grips his targets throat and slowly tightens his grip as he starts to choke the life out of him.

The man bites down hard on Kinkade’s hand, but it doesn’t shake his grip, Kinkade steps on his right leg preventing him from standing up. The man cannot get leverage and tries in vain to shake Kinkade off, the man moves using his left and right hands throwing them backwards in an attempt to strike Kinkade. The mans hands hit off Kinkade’s chest, each strike becoming weaker than the last. Kinkade kept his grip tight as the man gives in, with one last beaten strike he lapses into unconsciousness and slumps completely into Kinkade’s arms. Kinkade removes his left hand from the mans mouth and places it lightly under his jaw line, sliding his right hand from the mans bruised and swollen throat to his left shoulder. In a short sharp movement, Kinkade yanked the mans jaw to the left, while pulling hard on his shoulder to the right, the movement was fluid. The mans neck snapped like a trodden on twig, Kinkade releasing his grip, the man slumped completely lifeless to the floor, face down in the mud.

Kinkade, doesn’t take any time to morn the dead man and steps over his body, he walks away from the small camp fire, looking left and right he can see a larger tent in front of him, there is movement and muffled noises from inside. The entrance flap has been closed over, but remained unfastened and would not stop his advancement. Kinkade walked purposely towards the entrance, he pauses just outside, long enough to remove the hooded cloak that he had ’acquired’ earlier. Kinkade ducked under the entrance flap, the lights were bright and they dazzled his vision for a moment. Kinkade blinked twice quickly to adjust his eyesight to the light of the tent.


Kinkade’s eyes adjusted, as he scanned the interior. His eyes fell to a makeshift bed, a blood stained and soiled mattress lay upon a rickety bed frame, a small oil lamp burned on a bed side cabinet. To the corner of the bed frame there was rope, coiled and thick tied hurriedly yet firmly to the frame, the rope extended to both sides. Upon the bed itself a long haired naked man heaved himself up and down in rhythmic motion. A smaller pair of legs lay bruised and limp, one on either side of the naked man. The smell was foul, like soiled bed linen, mixed with sweat and laced with copper undertones. The man breathed heavily and grunted in pleasure as he committed his depraved act. The legs of the young woman, didn’t move, as if resigned to her fate. Kinkade couldn’t see her, yet. The man was Deacon, the leader of the Wolves Bane Bandits, a loathsome and disgusting man, his back glistened with sweat. He didn’t stop at Kinkade’s approach assuming that he was one of his own men. Deacon spoke, his voice strained yet carried a heavy accent.

“You! I aint’s finished yet. You waits Ya turn! Don worry, she’s enough for everybody. Just like the last one…. now, get out!”

Deacon, didn’t even look up, it was his first and last mistake. Kinkade’s eyes burned white hot, his temper boiled to a point where he couldn’t even feel himself anymore, everything for him was carried out in slow motion and over before it had even begun. Kinkade moved in behind Deacon and gripped him by his long hair, wrapping his hands round the strands he pulled back with so much force that Deacon was yanked off the bed and onto the ground, and for the first time, Kinkade drew his sword. Kinkade yanked back on the hair until his hand was the same height as his chin, Deacon sprawled about in pain at being lifted off the ground purely by his hair. Kinkade calmly and collectively ran his blade from hilt to tip across Deacon’s throat.

There was no sound, just blood. It spurted out as Deacon’s jugular vein was cut, the blood shot out like a piston hitting the side of the tent with such force that you heard it spurt as it hit the material. The first shot was the strongest, then second slightly weaker, still hitting the side of the tent and leaving a blood trail down the side of the material as another spurt of blood going all the way to shot number 9. By the time the violent blood episode was finished all that remained was a massive blood trail down the side of the tent and a pool of blood at Deacon’s lifeless feet. Kinkade threw the contents of his hand forward, as if discarding a worthless piece of trash, with the last piece of contempt Kinkade spat on the back of the deceased man. Kinkade looked upon the woman, and if anyone had saw him at that moment, they would have assumed him a pervert, for he studied her naked form. She was streaked in mud, sweat, blood and tears. She gazed at him with fear and wonder, Kinkade could tell that she was questioning him within her mind …… Saviour? Or another tormentor?…..

Kinkade turned away slightly, and took a step towards the entrance of the tent. He grasped the entrance flap and pulled it towards him, using the excess material to wipe clean his sword. Kinkade then turned back towards the woman, a deep well of sadness and pity rose within him at seeing her lying there. He moved in close to her and cut the ropes that first tied her hands, then cut the ropes that bound her ankles. She had obviously been struggling at first, the ropes hadn’t done their job well, oh yes they had secured her from escaping, but had cut into her wrists and ankles, causing sores. He returned his sword to its sheath. Kinkade then whispered in the lowest voice he could muster, his voice sounded like the wind itself, and he feared it would break and reveal that he was just as scared as she was.

“Its okay, we are leaving. Your coming with me, your going home….. Do you have a name?”

The young girl, took a while before she would answer, she blinked… blinked back tears, that had been welling there for perhaps hours, as she had to endure this humiliation and torture. Finally she spoke, her voice as whispery and light as Kinkade’s own

“Teseria” Kinkade made an attempt at a smile and only half succeeded and whispered in return.

“I’m Kinkade… Can you walk?”

Teseria, looked at him, the first glimmer of hope she possibly had, and nodded vigorously, as if to say ‘out of this hell hole, given half a chance and I would fly’. She sat up and Kinkade pulled the bed sheet round her and tied it at her shoulder. It looked like some beggar girls make shift dress… but it would suffice for now. As they stood up Kinkade noticed something in the corner of the tent. Hidden? Or more like discarded, under a grey cover, a small blood stained foot poked out. Kinkade, walked over and lifted the cover and looked upon the body underneath…… It was another woman, couldn’t be any more than 18 years of age, her lifeless blue eyes stared upwards looking right past Kinkade. He already knew the answer but he checked anyway, and with an ungloved hand knelt down and felt her neck for a pulse. There was none. Her skin was cold to the touch. As he stood up he saw the cause of this child’s untimely death, in the form of two stab like puncture marks in her stomach. Death was assured, but it wasn’t exactly a quick kill… she most likely bled out from the wound and felt an agonising 20 minutes, at least before she succumbed to the release of death. Teseria looked at Kinkade and frowned, but it was more at herself than anything else.


“She fought them…. Right from the start, and she never gave up. He did that to her, as a lesson, he did it, and then just dumped her there…”

Teseria, for one didn’t cry, she seamed almost incapable at the moment. The entire ordeal still feeling like some nightmarish story that one might find in a book. Kinkade simply nodded in silence, he turned back towards Teseria and stood beside her. He spoke, his voice very different from before. Bitter and twisted like the words tasted of ash and venom in his mouth.

“She will know peace… and these Bastards wont be the only ones to die tonight…. Lets go… Stay Behind me and stay close.”

Kinkade with Teseria in tow moved to the exit of the Tent, on the way Kinkade picked up the oil lamp that was on the bedside table and tossed it carelessly over his shoulder… The lamp sailed carefree through the air for a matter of seconds, before striking the ground and smashing onto pieces. The oil contained within splattered everywhere, leaving thick drops on the bed and the side of the tent, it was then that the flame from the same lamp ignited the oil in an intense puff of bright red and orange flames, the flames quickly grew to engulf the tent.

There was a need for speed, and Teseria although had the heart of a warrior… didn’t have neither the strength nor the will to keep up. It has taken minutes alone to just get back to the campfire where the meat still slowly spit roasted, and faint sounds of rustling behind them were evident as people roused from their slumber, black plumes of smoke rising from the tent as the fire consumed it and turned it.. And its contents to ash. Kinkade turned and stopped Teseria from moving further, he moved towards her and she hesitated wondering what he was going to do. He gripped her waist and lifted her up whilst lowering his shoulders and placed her over his right shoulder about her waist to support her weight and to not cause any discomfort. Kinkade spun on the spot and made haste to the camp entrance, back the way he came he faced no opposition. Kinkade met the first scene once again… where the Fat Man and the Red Haired one lay, the smell of death had already gripped their bodies as their bowels and bladders had expelled their contents shortly after death occurred.


Kinkade and Teseria paid them not more mind than buzzing fly’s, Kinkade while still carrying his cargo moved out of the camp and immediately circled round the way he originally came making sure to trod over seen footprints. He reached the solid oak tree and lowered Teseria to her feet. Kinkade picked up a few blades of grass from the base of the tree. The rain still lashing down in the wet grass made the grass into a perfect wet reed, he folded the few blades over and pressed them to his lips. He blew out, the expelled air made the strangest high pitched squeak. From there is was only a matter of moments before the comforting sound of galloping hooves came into ear shot. Reibel, Kinkade’s ever present and faithful steed strode up to him, ever expecting his reward. Kinkade obliged by reaching into his pack for a small bag of sugar cubes. Retrieving two cubes he held them out in a flat hand under Reibel’s nose. The horse sniffed once and then ate them, the faintest of crunches could be heard, and if the steed could smile it would have at that point. Ever happy at sugar cubes.
Kinkade Turned to Teseria and silently raised her up onto the horse. She looked at him puzzled for a moment as he looped the reins round her wrists and then handed the strap to her. He nodded silently, then spoke, his voice far more resolute than before. He spoke with defiance and with a sense that what he said was not a request, but rather a command.

“Reibel will take you away from here, I will cover your escape.” Teseria opened her mouth to argue, but Kinkade raised his hand cutting her off before she could speak.

“Go, we will meet up when its safe.”

Kinkade ran his hand down Reibel’s mane, and scratched under his chin, the horse leaned his head forward and Kinkade rested his head against Reibel’s.

“Take care of her, I will follow shortly.”

Reibel snorted, Kinkade didn’t know wither he understood him, or his intentions but the horse did exactly what Kinkade had come to expect of him. He obeyed. Reibel backed up, trotted calmly round the Oak and then took off at a full pelt gallop down the roadside. Kinkade allowed himself a brief smile as he turned back again to face the camp. Shouting was now ensue, as people scrambled to put out the spreading fire. Faint screams and cries as people were either injured as they awoke, or perhaps found the bodies of their comrades. Kinkade dropped to his knees and pulled his bow to his side, from his Quiver he emptied his full compliment of arrows, twenty two in total. He stuck them into the ground, fletching side up, ready for quick grab and release. He knelt in a straight line to the entrance from the camp, a straight line he took great care previous to avoid…..

Two men were the first to exit the camp, they checked their fallen comrades over to see just exactly how they met their demise. Kinkade didn’t wait, selecting one arrow he pulled back, aimed and released, the faint thump sound could be heard as the bowstring caught the nock of the arrow and sent it on its travels. The arrow sailed through the air, nor rain, nor fate not even the hand of God, if any, would deter its justice from striking. Like a lightening bolt the arrow struck the first man, impaling his chest, he cried out in pain. The Second man looked on in horror and ducked back in behind the safety and solitude of the camp walls. His shouts and screams echoed in the stillness of the night, and Kinkade could make out the command..

“Archers! Release the Dogs!..”





Kinkade smiled in sheer contentment, he was causing them much annoyance and their death toll would rise even more. He returned his attention back to the wounded man, he was struggling to stand as he attempted to drag himself to safety, the thought ’still alive are we?’ graced Kinkade’s mind as he plucked another Arrow from the ground, aimed and released it, signalling the end of the unnamed mans life. Kinkade selected another arrow and pressed the nock of the arrow firmly into place of the bowstring, pulling back he knelt in wait for his next target to reveal itself.


Luckily Kinkade didn’t have to wait long, three wolves came bounding out from behind the walls, the first one leading the charge was black, with a silver stripe leading from the tip of its nose to past the top of its head, its teeth bared in a menacing snarl, drool dribbled from its mouth as it took great strides, directly towards Kinkade. The second and third wolves were closely following, one either side just merely feet away from each other. The other two wolves were a deep brown in colour and bore no more distinctiveness other than the hatred that burned within their cold yellow eyes. Kinkade, however didn’t fire upon them, looking past them watching and waiting for another target to present itself. The wolves closed the gap.

15 feet…. 10 feet….. The first dog didn’t see it coming, its paw triggered the waiting bear trap, its metal teeth sprung to life as the spring released its coiled up tension. It snapped shut biting into the wolves leg cause it to yelp in pain and stumble forward, as it lost its balance its sheer momentum cased it to fall forward and skid along the ground, ripping its fur and flesh open, and unfortunately for the beast, into the gaping jaws of another trap, the trap sprung up again with coiled tension and bit in round the wolves head splattering blood and brain matter on the ground adjacent, the injury was more of a mercy killing than anything else. The two remaining wolves slowed their assault, dropping from a full pelt run to a brisk walk, taking time now to sniff the ground, they barked and howled at the death of their comrade and their eyes flashed with vengeful madness, if they could they would tear Kinkade apart and enjoy devouring him. Alas it was not meant to be, its snout close to the ground the second brown wolf managed to trigger another trap, metal teeth jumped up from the ground like a trapdoor spider, their razor sharp teeth bit in round its victim’s neck, severing its head clean off from the rest of its body. The body of the wolf just simply dropped to the side, its left hind leg twitching as the muscles still received the command to run. The third wolf, not expecting the sudden and violent dispatch of its partner, yelped and jumped right afraid for its own life…. It was its final mistake, the only route that was safe for the wolf was back the way, however in its fear it had jumped into the path of another two metal jaws, itching, waiting, wanting, and needing to snap shut. The wolf didn’t even yelp, there was a snap of the jaws, a snap of bone a flash of fur and blood, and then the wolf, was gone.

At last, Kinkade’s intended target appeared, two archers scrambled out from the opening, both sporting arrows clipped to their bows, the ends of the arrows coated with oil and set alight, they turned and scanned the horizon searching for their target. Kinkade took the opportunity, momentarily forgetting about the wolves, and released the shot that he had been holding. He had been holding the shot a lot longer than he had expected and some of the strength from the pull back had been lost, the arrow still fired but flew lower than expected. The arrow sailed naturally through the air, in an upward arc but dipped lower than normal to strike the man in the groin. Kinkade couldn’t help but smile, the man however let out a high pitched scream and fell backwards, gripping his groin he wriggled about on the ground continuing to scream into the night. The second man however managed to at least take aim, however with Kinkade’s position unknown he fired in what he guessed was the right direction. Kinkade remarked to himself, ’not a bad shot…. Had I been standing’. The flaming arrow sailed clean over his head, having been fired far too high, it struck the oak tree that shook at the impact to release a few wet leaves and rain water down upon Kinkade. His response was swift, he pulled two arrows from the ground taking aim he released the two in return. The first struck the mans shoulder the second embedded itself into his rib cage, it would have caused serious injury and perhaps punctured his lung, which is perhaps why the man made no sound, just fell face first into the mud.

Kinkade remained, silent and vigilant for what felt like hours, but was merely a few minutes, the fire that he had started still continued to rage in the camp and no one approached out of the exit. He collected his remaining arrows, stood and shook off any fatigue in his muscles, he had but one last task, a message to deliver. Kinkade turned and at a slow jog fled the scene, he left the camp behind him and focused on the road in front, following a set of hoof marks that he could only assume were Reibel’s.

Further down the road, about a mile, a small watering hole lay still, the rain had finally stopped lashing down and had the ground not been soaked, it would look like it had not been raining at all. Kinkade glanced ahead and smiled at the familiar sight of Reibel’s silhouette. As he neared the horse it looked up and strode over to greet him, Teseria still perched on top of his back, her wrists still looped round the reins smiled to see him, the first show of happiness that he had seen from her. Kinkade didn’t speak, he instead gripped the reins at the side of Reibel’s head and beckoned the horse to follow. Their destination was not far, a small farming community a quarter mile down the road. Kinkade said nothing and Teseria was too afraid to break the silence. She closed her eyes and just let the horse and Kinkade lead her back.

The farming village, if it could be called that, was small, six houses in total and each had its own small plot of land. Some of it was freshly ploughed, and some had crops starting to bear fruit and vegetables, it would almost be time for the harvest. They stopped in front of a house that was just slightly bigger than the rest, what made it stand out was that the outside of the building had been painted white. A stark contrast when compared to the wooden houses of the rest of the community. Within its fields corn grew, a few more weeks and the cobs would be falling off, ripe for harvest. Teseria broke the silence.

“Father had a good crop last year, he made a little coin. Mother always said she wanted a white house on the hillside, so father had the house painted.”

Kinkade dropped his grip on the reins and turned to face her, he offered his hand out to help her down, which she happily accepted. She dropped to the ground with a light thump as her bare feet squished into the mud. Kinkade guided her by hand to the big heavy wooden door, its steel knocker was rusted and worn but swung on fresh oil. Kinkade banged at the door several times, until a faint light sparked up as the lanterns lit the household. The door unlocked and swung open, the smell of wheat and honey wine was the first thing to greet Kinkade, then a heavy set older gentleman stood in the doorway. His voice was gruff as if he had just wakened, yet he spoke in a commanding tone.

“Have you got any idea what time it is? What do you want? If your looking for more, I haven’t got any…”


His voice trailed off as he looked not at Kinkade but past him, to the young woman standing behind him. The mans voice broke and this time he spoke with uncertainty and fear.

“Teseria… What are you doing here? We thought.. We had lost you… How did you get away?” He now glared angrily at Kinkade “Why have you brought her here? You’ve doomed us all!”

Kinkade didn’t respond, Teseria walked up and past the two of them, and into the house, tears streaked past her cheeks as she sobbed uncontrollably. Her voice shook and warbled as she spoke in return.

“I’m home Dad…. He rescued me, after I was taken. He came for me and he saved me.” She went to continue, however her father cut her off.

“Go to your mother, she has been worried about you. Get cleaned up and put on some proper clothes.. We have an image to uphold.”

Teseria, looked down. She offered no argument and no resistance She did exactly what was commanded of her and left into one of the rooms at the back of the house. Kinkade shifted his glance from Teseria’s exit back to this creature in front of him. Her Father Stepped out of the house and stood mere inches away from Kinkade as he spoke.

“As for you, leave. Deacon will be back and he wont be best pleased that his prize is here. You have doomed us all… I only hope he is in a forgiving mood when he comes.”

Kinkade’s face remained expressionless, but he shrugged his shoulders. He had nothing but contempt for the man. However shrugging his shoulders seamed only to Anger the man, who took a step towards Kinkade, there two faces close to each other. This time when he spoke the anger boiling within him, he prodded a finger at Kinkade, striking his chest every time he made a point.

“ Don’t you dare disrespect me!” Prod “You don’t know who I am,” Prod “I’m Borland, and I’m in charge here!” Prod “Now you -

Kinkade’s eyes flashed with anger, as he gritted his teeth in response.

“Don’t do that, I don’t like it.”

Borland didn’t heed the warning

“You don’t tell me what to do!” Prod “this is MY Village, and I’m in charge here, you don’t frighten me!” Prod

Kinkade, grabbed Borland’s outstretched fingers and snapped them backwards, the crunch was gut wrenching and Borland cried out in pain. Kinkade kept a hold of his fingers and applied a little more pressure bending Borland’s wrist back, forcing him to his knees. Kinkade released his hand and gripped the back of his head and smashed it against the door surround, breaking Borland’s nose. Kinkade pushed his head further and further into the surround, sheer anger causing his arm to shake in frustration. Kinkade while still holding Borland there leaned in towards him, and spat the words at him, the contempt and bile rose almost to boiling point at the back of his throat as he spoke into his ear.

“Don’t fear Deacon, he is dead. Fear me. For if I come back through here, and I find out that you sold your own daughter to save your worthless hide again. You, your house and your whole crop field will be burnt to the ground. Go see your daughter, ask her, every detail of what happened to her, what they did to her… And know, forever that you caused it.”

Kinkade released his grip on Borland’s head, and Borland just slumped into fits of tears at the doorway. Kinkade felt no sympathy, no remorse, he felt nothing. He turned swiftly, his own cloak swishing slightly as he turned. He walked with determination and purpose as he mounted Reibel, he had one more family to pay his respects to, a dead girl who never gave up. Kinkade especially wanted to meet the father who gave up on her.