A trap is set...but this time by the bad guy, and it catches a F'ox.

With apologies to William Goldman...




Baths
Steam clouds swirl leisurely to obscure from full view the sunken pool, bubbling with the subterranean thermals that bring its water to good, bathing heat. Three steps climb down into the water, opposite the narrow sitting ledge hugging the inner wall. Benches near the outer archway hold fluffy, oversized towels and bowls filled with multihued sweetsand.
You see Eidan here.
Bandel is here.
Obvious exits:
Lower Caverns

Yet again, the setting is mid-morning at Fort. The rumors had flown the length and breadth of the Weyr. Rumors that the man terrorizing the candidates was finally dead! And there was something on him, something incriminating. With Mizuth guarding her ready-to-hatch eggs on the sands, C'ai and Tomi have left the Weyr to approach Igen (with a gruesome trophy in tow).

So let's see, that leaves a very pregnant Lyllya on the sands or not too far from her Weyr and F'ox the Weyrsecond to keep an eye on things. The atmosphere has grown considerably lighter since the rumors started flying and likewise the older bronzerider's mood as he wanders through the lower caverns as usual, visiting his children and looking in on various rooms here and there. One stop is the bath, though he's just in for a cursory check, making sure the Candidates haven't returned to their pranking ways, putting dye in the sweet sand, stealing the towels, or whatnot.

My name is Bandel the Villain. You killed my brother, prepare to die. Not exactly true in any sense, but oddly fitting. Madness, justification, harsh and unforgiving. Oh yes, and deadly. That is Bandel. He wants blood, and rider blood will do. Waiting in the steam, just beyond the doorway, he waits for one to arrive. As soon as the knotted F'ox enters, the man slams shut the door, dropping a bar in place (don't question it).

Now that can certainly get a man's attention, F'ox whirls around in surprise as he's not expecting anyone in here this time of morning. Perhaps it's a certain lady greenrider who wants some attention but no, instead he gets big bad and ugly. "Hey, this is a public room, no locking the doors..." he starts off affably, squinting through the steam with only a prickle of unease to start with. No, he doesn't have six fingers either and this certainly has nothing to do with true love.

Bandel would very much love to do some killing here, but that is something else. There is a tell-tale ring of metal being drawn, and then his sword is drawn before him, held in a two-handed grip. Oh yeah, and he doesn't look happy at all. That madness? It shows. He draws a step forward, watching F'ox with intent, of the deadly kind. "Which one of you killed my brother?" Beat. "Oh, who the shards cares. You're dead." He doesn't hesitate, making a jab at the man.

F'ox gives a rather surprised shout, backing up quickly and further into the bath. His hand goes to his own belt knife, which is a rather puny weapon compared to the one being thrusted menacingly at him. "Your brother?" he stammers in confusion as his heart races, looking behind him carefully as he tries to circle around the pools. "You! You look like the guy in the sketches too!" A hint of comprehension dawns. "There were two after all..." It made more sense so he thinks, rather than just one attacker going around.

Bandel snarls, stalking forward, taking the sword in a tighter grip and lunging towards the bronzerider. "I'm famous," spoken so dead-pan as to be a little less than humorous. He smirks at the belt knife, disdain evident. "You will be two after I rip you from guts to throat."

Is there anything worse than a /punning/ bad guy? F'ox side steps quickly, pretty agile for a man who's seen nearly three decades as a dragonrider. "Why are you doing this?!" There's no chance of blocking the sword with his knife, so he must rely on staying out of those vicious stabs. Leathers provide a bit more protection than just a hide vest and shirt at least, the bronze rider tries to distract too, throwing questions at the man. "What have a bunch of little girls ever done to you?!" Trying to step past the sword wielder's guard, he slashes at exposed arms before jumping back out of range.

Bandel pulls the classic bad-guy routine. He spills his guts in his confidence. That NEVER works. "Because scaring doesn't work. Rather see them bleed." His sword angles, cutting off any slashes directed at his arms. Having the longer reach though, that sneer shows once more. Oh yes, confidence. "But Van is dead, and your blood will do." He draws forward once again, trying to crowd F'ox towards the pool.

Getting the villain to monologue always works in the movies. Pity that might not necessarily work here, but it could buy F'ox a little time as he backs further up, trying to keep ahead enough that he won't get corralled by the bathing pools. "But why? Why would you do such a thing? The Weyr needs those girls, they want to be here." Well certainly the ones who don't have already left. Time bought brings the chance of help, his own heightened fear rousing Kizokuth from his morning nap with a bugle of alarm. That's the drawback of attacking a dragonrider.

"The gil he gave me was good," Bandel quips. "But not worth the death of Van." And then his expression darkens further. Not hearing the dragon this far inside the Weyr though, the man is oblivious to any arrivals of help, be them soon or not. There is an annoyance there, and the man comes forward another step, shifting the grip of his sword, narrowing his eyes, grinning like death itself, and he lunges towards F'ox, sword flashing with watery glints.

F'ox was not expecting that answer, thinking that there was some sort of private vendetta, some unjust grievance, or even some backwater prejudices at work. Surprise flicks over his face, gaping at the man for a split second. "Marks?" But any further retort is cut short, Bandel's lunge nearly catching him off guard and getting far far too close for the bronze rider's comfort. No time to waste now, he feels the shelving of the backwall under his questing hand and he grabs for the spare towels, throwing them distractingly at the attacker before following up with a thrust of his own weapon.

Bandel didn't expect the towels. Seriously, not at all what he was looking to have happen. His sword is hampered by one of the freshly laundered towels, catching on the edge and bringing the tip down with the sudden and unexpected weight -slight though it is. A frown and he angles his weapon to the side to it slides off, just as F'ox comes at him with the knife. Gutsy rider. The man twists away, swinging around and sweeping high with the blade.

No one's ever accused F'ox of not being gutsy, though he'd rather not prove that fact literally by having them spilled out onto the floor. His knife falls short since Bandel has the reach on him and that high swipe catches him at long last. The odd angle gets him by surprise, slashing him in the face, a cut that crosses from right cheek to forehead with a splatter of blood. Crying out, his hand comes up over his eye, dazed by the sudden pain. The shock is great and the fear drives the rider into desperation. The sword swing brings an exposed side into F'ox's reach and that's when he drives his knife at Bandel, hoping for a fatal or crippling thrust.

Bandel sneers in triumph as he catches the rider, already moving to shift and try for a stabbing wound at the man. In his conceit he is left open, and F'ox does indeed find his side, and his kidney. Feeling the slip of iron into him, he man grunts, looks a little shocked, and then lurches forward toward the rider.

There should be several tons of panicking bronze dragon out in the bowl by now, other riders and residents arrowing towards the blocked doorway with pounding at the barricaded door. Still it's a bit too late, one way or another as F'ox pulls his knife free, letting his attacker bleed as profusely as the cut on his own face. Half blinded, he tries to stagger out of the way of next sword lunge but gets stabbed in the side as well. So close now, he grapples with his attacker, bloody hand trying to keep the sword out of the way and thrusting again with his slim knife, low and vicious. The rider staggers though, tripping on the low rim of the pool and dragging them both into the water!

Bandel is easily drug into the water, because something is most definitely wrong with his body. The splash is hollow-sounding, the pool waters quickly becoming tainted with the blood of both men. The man grunts, head coming to the surface, but eyes squeezing shut momentarily with the pain. He gasps, curses, looses the sword to the bottom, and reaches for the bronzer with fisting hands to try to drag him under.

The pain is searing on open wounds, F'ox gasping as well as he tries to stand and not too soon as he's dragged under once more. The advantage is in the rider's hand this time, the knife that is. He uses it to stab at Bandel over and over again, though his motions are starting to slow as well, hampered by the water, not to mention bloodloss and pain taking it's toll. His dragon's screams are all the more frantic now and the pounding at the door has turned to loud bangs as the weyrfolk try to break in.

Bandel doesn't last long with this treatment. His hands scrabble at F'ox, fingers clutching and releasing and scratching and flailing and slowing. Slowing. Slower. And then the man doesn't struggle. Trauma, bloodloss, water. It finally ends.

Without the strong encouragement and terrified urgings of his dragon, F'ox too might have given up and let the warm waters drag him under as well. Kizokuth won't let him go though, and despite the pain and growing legarthy, the bronzerider grabs for the lip of the pool and just manages to pull himself out, collapsing shortly after.

There are quite a few large *THUMP*s against that barred door. And yelling. And demanding. The wood finally cracks though, another loud bang and splinters fall, and a third one does the business as a long plank falls out. One muscled hand reaches down, gripping the bar, pulling and tugging 'til it comes free. Yay, the 'cavalry' has arrived!

If F'ox lives through this, the first thing he's suggesting to the Weyrleader is for a faster and better trained 'response team' at the Weyr, because frankly the guards and their ilk really suck around here. The Weyrsecond lies bleeding on the bathing room floor and a corpse floats in the water. At least this time, there's still someone left for the healers to save.

And nobody is burnt this time. One dies by fire, the other in the water. Voices lift in alarm at the state of the baths, the blood and the body and then the rider. "Get everyone out of here," raises a voice. Another calls for healers, and suddenly there are hands, pushing F'ox over, and further exclamations as to the rider's state. With the infirmary just down the hall, it isn't long before they arrive, busily assessing the rider's state. Another couple brave the water, turning over the body and checking for signs of life.

It's at least easy to tell that F'ox is alive, not with Kizokuth's anxious bugling outside. It'll take Mizuth's influence to calm the bronze dragon down now that his rider's unconscious. The stab wound fortunately missed vitals, but the big question is whether or not the healers will be able to save the rider's eye. One hopes that by the time the Weyrleader returns from Igen, F'ox will be able to tell his tale, and hopefully this will be the end of the attacks at Fort. Or will it....?

There is a few murmurs and winces at the sight of the Weyrsecond's face. "Take him to the spot by the ground weyr, so we can move him after this -if he pulls through. Find Jorin, and those two apprentices. Now!" Loose clothing is tugged away from the rider, and more tsking is given to a couple of the other wounds. "Lets get him to the infirmary right away."