Chapter 5: The Bandit's Ambush I

Chapter 5: The Bandit's Ambush

I. Preparing for the Bandit Raid

The alarm bells echoed through the cavern, their hollow clang bouncing off the stone walls like a warning drum. The sound reverberated through every corner of Morningstar Hold, causing an immediate ripple of activity. Soldiers jolted upright from their posts, scrambling to grab weapons and don armor as the chilling clang filled the air. Shouts echoed from the ramparts as guards relayed the alarm, their voices taut with urgency. Civilians in the marketplace froze, wide-eyed, before the survival instinct took over—vendors abandoned stalls, families gathered their children, and miners emerged from the tunnels, dust-caked faces marked with alarm. The once orderly streets twisted into controlled chaos as Eira's stewards ushered workers into the safety of the lower caverns. Overhead, archers raced up the battlements, bows strung and quivers at the ready, their boots thudding against stone as they took their positions. The heavy tension in the air thickened, an almost tangible weight pressing down as the distant sound of war cries echoed faintly through the tunnels—growing louder with each passing second. Murtagh stood at the center of Morningstar Hold, his gaze locked on the shimmering interface hovering before him.

[Warning: Hostile Forces Approaching]

Raiders Identified: NPC Bandit Force — Small Camp

Time Until Impact: 1 Hour

Murtagh's jaw tightened. "Council, to the war table. Now."

Within minutes, the council assembled inside the war tent. A large map of the surrounding tunnels lay spread across the stone table, markers indicating the approaching bandit force.

"Thalric, what do we know?"

Thalric placed a finger over the route the raiders were taking. "They're from a small bandit camp, about four tunnels over. Lightly armed but fast. Expect scouts, raiders, and a Bandit Captain leading the charge. They're using the narrow tunnels to their advantage."

Murtagh nodded. "Vexar, get the militia into defensive positions. Eira, redirect resource workers into the lower caverns. No civilians on the surface."

"Aye, Lord Murtagh," Vexar grunted, already moving.

Gold-Rated Totem Effect Activated:

+50% Construction Speed

+30% Troop Morale During Defensive Raids

Murtagh leveraged the bonus immediately. Spiked barricades were thrown up along the outer perimeter, traps were laid in the narrow tunnel choke points, and archers were stationed atop makeshift towers overlooking the battlefield.

Vexar lined the main gate with a shield wall—thirty strong, with another twenty archers at the rear. Skirmishers, lightly armored but fast, hid in the shadows, waiting for the signal to flank.

Murtagh's foresight ability surged, revealing a flicker of the future: a hidden path the bandits would use to try and flank the settlement.

"Thalric, take five scouts. Block the side tunnel. Cut them off before they breach the walls."

II. The Bandit Assault — Full Tactical Combat

The cavern's stillness shattered with the sound of guttural war cries, their raw, primal echoes reverberating through the stone tunnels like a storm of sound. The walls seemed to vibrate with the sheer force of the bandits' rage, carrying the cries deep into the heart of Morningstar Hold. The thunderous footfalls of the charging raiders echoed in sync with their shouts, a drumbeat of impending violence that grew louder with each passing second. The air grew heavy with the acrid scent of sweat and the metallic tang of blood, the heat of countless bodies radiating through the cavern's chilled depths. Torches flickered violently as the first wave of bandits emerged from the darkness, their crude weapons glinting in the low light. Murtagh could smell the sharp sting of oil from burning pitch and the coppery scent of iron mixing with the raw earth. Every heartbeat seemed magnified in the moment before the first clash, the world narrowing to the clash of steel and the roar of battle that followed. Bandits surged forward from the tunnels, their crude weapons gleaming under torchlight. The ground trembled as they charged, boots pounding against stone.

"Archers! Loose!" Murtagh roared.

Arrows rained down, their fletched shafts whistling through the air before sinking into the front ranks of the bandits. Screams echoed through the cavern as bodies dropped, but the horde surged on, climbing over the fallen with reckless abandon.

The bandits slammed into the shield wall with a bone-jarring crash. The impact reverberated through the stone, the sound of clashing metal ringing out like a war drum. Spears thrust between shields, skewering the first wave of raiders, but more pressed forward, their jagged blades hacking against the wooden defenses.

"Brace! Push them back!" Vexar bellowed.

The front line heaved, shields locked tight, as the militia forced the bandits into the spike pits laid before the gates. Screams of impaled raiders filled the air as they toppled into the traps, but others clambered over their bodies, determined to breach the walls.

On the left flank, a hidden pocket of skirmishers emerged, slamming into the raiders' exposed side. The clash was brutal—blades met flesh, and the narrow tunnel became a choke point of carnage. Murtagh watched as Thalric's team blocked the flanking force in the side tunnel, their ambush disrupting the enemy's momentum.

A bandit hurled a flaming torch toward the palisade. It arced high—before an archer's arrow intercepted it midair, flames scattering harmlessly.

The battle's intensity grew. Murtagh's foresight flared again, showing a dangerous gap forming at the center of the shield wall.

"Vexar! Reinforce the center—now!"

Vexar roared orders, pushing fresh troops into the breach just as the bandits surged forward, axes raised. The clash was thunderous, blades scraping against armor, but the line held.

Then, from the rear of the enemy force, the Bandit Captain emerged. Towering above his raiders, he was a hulking brute of a man, his broad shoulders encased in battered iron-plated armor, each plate etched with crude sigils and deep gashes from countless battles. His exposed forearms were a latticework of scars, a testament to years of brutal skirmishes and survival in the harshest conditions. A jagged scar cut diagonally across his cheek, narrowly missing a milky, clouded eye, giving him a permanent, grim sneer. In his massive hands, he gripped a brutal iron axe, its blade chipped and stained with old blood, yet still gleaming with a lethal edge. His heavy boots thudded against the stone with each deliberate step, the sound reverberating through the cavern like the toll of a war drum. The air seemed to thicken around him, the weight of his presence sending a ripple of fear through both his own men and Murtagh's defenders. He didn't rush—he didn't need to. Every movement exuded confidence and raw, brutal strength, as if he knew no blade had ever bested him. His single, good eye locked onto the gate with an almost predatory focus, and with a guttural snarl, he began cutting through his own men, clearing a path as he advanced with relentless force toward the front line. Nearly a head taller than his raiders, his iron-plated armor glinted dully in the torchlight, and a brutal iron axe hung from his fist. He strode forward, each step deliberate, cleaving through his own men as he approached the gate.

Murtagh's foresight triggered again—images of the Captain tearing through the militia and breaching the defenses.

"No time," Murtagh muttered. He vaulted over the battlements, landing hard on the stone below, and sprinted forward, sword drawn.

Their blades met with a thunderous clang. Sparks erupted as steel clashed, the force sending vibrations up Murtagh's arms. The Captain swung his axe in a wide arc, forcing Murtagh to dive to the side, the blade narrowly missing his head.

Dust clouded around them as Murtagh rolled, landing on his feet and countering with a quick slash that cut across the Captain's side. Blood splattered onto the stone, but the brute barely flinched.

The Captain roared, lifting his axe overhead for a devastating swing. Murtagh ducked low, feeling the gust of wind as the weapon sailed past, then drove his sword deep into the Captain's exposed shoulder.

The Bandit staggered, blood pouring freely now—but instead of retreating, he surged forward in a final, desperate charge.

Murtagh twisted his blade, wrenching it free before plunging it into the Captain's chest. The brute's body convulsed before collapsing with a heavy thud, his axe clattering against the stone.

A moment of silence passed before the remaining bandits, seeing their leader fall, broke ranks and fled into the shadows.

"Don't let them escape!" Murtagh roared. Archers loosed arrows into the retreating bandits, cutting down stragglers before they vanished into the tunnels.

[Raid Complete: Victory Secured]

[Loot Acquired: Bandit Captain's Axe, 300 Gold, Map Fragment — Bandit Encampments Nearby]

III. Aftermath — Strengthening the Hold

The settlement buzzed with activity as workers emerged from hiding to help clear debris and tend to the wounded. Relief was palpable in the air, but it was tinged with a heavy undercurrent of fear and grief. Families reunited in tearful embraces, some collapsing onto the bloodied stone in sheer exhaustion, while others stood silently over fallen loved ones, their expressions hollow with shock. Children clung tightly to their parents, their small faces streaked with dirt and tears, as the grim reality of the battle settled over the hold. Eira's stewards moved swiftly through the crowd, distributing water and bandages, their movements efficient but heavy with fatigue. The acrid scent of blood mixed with the lingering smoke of torches, creating a suffocating haze that blanketed the square. Murtagh stood atop the wall, watching as a blacksmith knelt beside a fallen soldier, tears cutting clean lines through the soot on his face. The weight of leadership pressed hard on Murtagh's shoulders—each casualty a personal failure in his mind. Yet, amid the grief, there was a spark of resilience. Survivors worked tirelessly, their faces set with grim determination, already clearing debris and repairing walls. Despite the cost, Morningstar Hold had endured, and its people would not break. The acrid scent of blood and scorched wood hung in the air, mixing with the faint tang of iron. Murtagh stood atop the wall, surveying the aftermath—piles of bandit bodies, shattered shields, and blood-streaked stone.

Eira approached, a scroll in hand. "We've tallied the loot. Enough resources to boost us toward a Second Grade Village. The bandit map shows nearby encampments—if we hit them now, we can wipe them out before they grow."

"Good," Murtagh said. "Prepare a strike force. We'll take the fight to them."

Thalric added, "Some of the bandit prisoners mentioned larger camps deeper in the tunnels. If we leave them unchecked, they could evolve into strongholds."

Murtagh's eyes narrowed. "Then we make sure that doesn't happen."

IV. Cliffhanger — The Threat Lurks Deeper

As the settlement settled back into a cautious calm, Thalric approached Murtagh late that evening. In his hands was the Map Fragment, now partially decoded.

"There's something odd, my lord. This camp—" Thalric pointed at an isolated mark deeper in the tunnels, "—it's not like the others. It's guarded, heavily fortified, and the scouts say the bandits there aren't… normal. Something's manipulating them."

Murtagh's jaw tensed. "AI interference?"

Thalric nodded. "Possibly."

Murtagh's grip tightened around the pommel of his sword. "Then we need to find out what's going on—before it finds us first."

To be continued in Chapter 6: Clearing the Bandit Camp