Waking with a terrible headache, Nightingale could hardly see straight. while disorientated she tried to survey her surroundings. A rough voice cut the silence, "Well, well look who's finally decided to join the concious." The voice caused her to feel as if her head was being split. "Why have your brought me here?" she asked. "Because you're the entertainment." he stated, a cruel smile forming on his lips. A breeze made her feel cold and she realized that she was still nude. Grabbing a rough blanket, she quickly covered herself. "Men, lets eat and then have our desert." The men cheered at this anouncement.
The meal was nearly over and nightingale became scared. 'This predicament that I'm in is my own fault, if only I had a little backup.' She grew mad, 'How could I be so stupid?' She began sobbing softly.
Tears still streaming down her face, she glanced to the right of her cage, a single guard bandit stood guard facing her, eyes filled with lust. That lust faded from his eyes along with his life, his mouth open in a silent scream. A long thin blade protruded from his chest. Quickly he was pulled into the forest with barely a rustling leaf. Rust was guarding the other side of camp, though he was facing towards the fire. The point of the previous blade tapped him on the shoulder and as he turned around identical blades flashed, in a scissor-like motion, rendering him headless. Blood sprayed and hit the leader in his shocked face. The blades had vanished, leaving the final three bandits alarmed and ready to defend themselves. They looked around still alert, there was nothing. The leader was in the centre, with the final two of his team on either side of him.
A sudden rustle of leaves caused all three to jump around. The blades were back, but instead of being wielded they were thrown like spears, killing the two followers instantly. Nightingale examined the blades quickly, their blades was a foot and a halfs length each, with the handle two feet in length. The designs were both identicle and beautiful. A warrior walked out of the cover of the forest, dressed in full body armour including a helmet, both with intense attention to detail. The warrior reached aboved his shoulder, drawing a claymore from his back, he strode towards the chief. The air above him was almost simmering, this identified him as from the Wolverine clan. He radiated hatred, and rage. Wielding the giant blade within a single hand, he marched on. The chief was almost cowering, terrified of this monster before him, he charged hoping to kill the warrior before the warrior killed him. The warrior swung his sword once, emitting a growl as intense as that of a bear. The chief fell to his knees, still clutching his sword's handle in front of him as if still attempting to block the blow, the blade hit the floor with a clang. His body hit the floor with a thud, helmet and head slice in half.
Never having seen this show of power before, Nightingale was speechless as she watched him retrieve his weapons. The identical blades were sheathed within each other making a short staff. The warrior came forth and wrenched the door off of its hinges. The air around him was no longer simmering, as he knelt and picked her up in his arms, like she was naught but a baby. He marched through the woods. Feeling safe, a sudden weariness hit her and she fell asleep...
