The confident man waves his hand and grins, theatrical. Like he's putting on a show for someone.
His men, I suppose.
"Oh, but don't worry, Miss-"
I don't wait for the rest of what the man has to say before I lash out, flicking a throwing knife directly at the man. It streaks through the night air and hits its target square in the eye.
I choose not to squander the element of surprise on the others.
Before any of them can react to their leader falling backward, I make my move.
I leap from the carriage down toward the shocked group, drawing my dagger, and using the force of my weight to drive it deep enough to deal with a second ruffian. He doesn't even have the opportunity to try to fight back before he's collapsed next to his leader.
The remaining bandits attempt to rally to stop me, but I'm ready for the desperate onslaught. The bandits around here rely mostly on fear and intimidation. They show up in groups, pick soft targets, and rarely need to do more than rough people up.
