In Huck's Hands

Bonus! ReVita V part 2: Damn it all!

The ancient riverboat groaned under the weight of its rugged passengers, its weathered planks barely holding together as it cut through the murky waters of the Great Divide, the lifeblood of Buriti-Vasca. Revita leaned against the sun-bleached Cactiwood railing, her copper eyes scanning the shoreline.

The boat was a microcosm of Izmarian society--merchants from Atlantia haggling over spices, Doigan pilgrims with their bioluminescent talismans, and the darker shadows of those who made their living in the spaces between law and chaos.

A prickle ran down Revita's spine, her Vascan instincts, honed through generations of courtly intrigue, screaming danger. She'd noticed a group of men boarding at the last stop, their eyes too sharp, their movements too coordinated beneath sand-colored wrappings. SandHound bandits, she was certain of it. The infamous river pirates were known for their brutal efficiency and their tense territory wars with anyone foolish enough to cross blades with them.

As if summoned by her thoughts, a war cry split the air. "For the Hounds of Kalashi!" The deck erupted into chaos as passengers screamed and scattered. Revita's mind raced, cataloging every detail in an instant. Twelve bandits, armed with curved khopesh swords and spiked mace-clubs reminiscent of ancient Buritian weapons. Two archers on the upper deck, their bows crafted from the dense wood of the Giant Cacti.

The captain and his crew were quickly subdued, bound with coarse desert hemp near the wheel.

Revita ducked behind a stack of crates filled with green Doigan bio-luminescent fungi. She needed a weapon, needed to even the odds. Her eyes landed on a coil of rope nearby, woven from the tough fibers of desert plants. Perfect.

With quick, deft movements learned in the cutthroat capital streets, she fashioned a makeshift garrote as she always did. The first bandit to round the corner of crates met a swift end, Revita using his own momentum to drive him into the rope. As he fell, she relieved him of his khopesh, its glinting curved blade singing as it sliced through the air.

Now armed, Revita took a moment to survey the chaos. The bandits were herding passengers towards the center of the deck, but their formation was sloppy. There was a gap in their coverage near the starboard side, where a group of Tykar merchants huddled, their tribal tattoos stark against fear-paled skin.

Revita moved like a shadow, using the panicked crowd as cover. She reached the railing undetected, then used the khopesh to slash at the rigging of a nearby lifeboat. The ropes, made from the tough fibers of desert hemp, snapped with a satisfying twang, and the small craft plummeted into the river with a tremendous splash.

The distraction worked perfectly. Half the bandits turned towards the sound, their instincts alert for any threat. Revita seized the opportunity, darting forward to engage the nearest pirate. Her stolen blade met his with a clang that reverberated across the deck, the distinctive ring of Buritian steel on steel that seemed to always pervade the lands.

The bandit sneered, clearly expecting an easy victory against the slight woman before him. His overconfidence was his undoing. Revita didn't match him strength for strength. Instead, she used his power against him, redirecting his wild swings with the precision of a Vascan court dancer, letting momentum do the work for her.

As they fought, Revita's keen mind never stopped analyzing. She noted the way the bandit favored his left leg, likely a result of some recent injury. When he overextended on a particularly vicious slash, she was ready. Revita sidestepped, hooked her foot behind his ankle, and sent him sprawling. A quick pommel strike to cloth-wrapped temple ensured he wouldn't be getting up again.

But there was no time to savor the victory. An arrow whistled past her ear, its obsidian tip, a SandHound specialty, embedding itself in the deck with a solid thunk. The archers on the upper deck had finally found their range.