Deepforge Saga

Chapter 5: The Bandit's Ambush

I. Preparing for the Bandit Raid

The hollow clang of alarm bells echoed through the stone corridors of Morningstar Hold, reverberating off the jagged cavern walls like a dire warning. Each metallic ring vibrated in the bones of the settlement, its sharp, urgent rhythm transforming routine bustle into frenzied action. Soldiers jolted upright from their posts, scrambling for weapons, armor, and shields as the chilling peal filled the air. Shouts rang from the ramparts—urgent calls to arms—as guards relayed the alarm, their voices taut with urgency and fear.

Civilians froze mid-step in the marketplace, wide-eyed, their expressions flickering between confusion and fear before survival instincts took over. Vendors hastily abandoned their stalls, pushing carts of goods aside, while mothers pulled children close, guiding them toward the safety of the lower caverns. Miners emerged from the tunnels, dust-caked and wide-eyed, the realization of danger cutting through their exhaustion like a blade. The once orderly streets twisted into controlled chaos as Eira's stewards moved swiftly through the crowd, their sharp commands steering the panic. "Into the lower caverns! Move, now!"

Overhead, archers thundered up the battlements, bows strung and quivers at the ready. Their boots struck the stone ramparts in heavy rhythm as they took positions along the walls. The air thickened with tension—heavy, pressing, and almost tangible—as distant war cries echoed faintly through the tunnels, growing louder with each passing second.

Murtagh stood at the heart of Morningstar Hold, the cold, damp air brushing against his face as he focused on the shimmering interface floating before him.

[Warning: Hostile Forces Approaching]

Raiders Identified: NPC Bandit Force — Small CampTime Until Impact: 1 Hour

His jaw tightened. So it begins.

"Council, to the war table. Now."

Within minutes, the council gathered in the war tent, its thick canvas walls barely muffling the alarm bells still clanging above. A large, stone-carved map of the surrounding tunnels stretched across the central table, glowing red markers indicating the approaching bandit force.

"Thalric, report," Murtagh ordered.

Thalric leaned forward, tapping the map where a thin tunnel branched toward Morningstar Hold. "They're coming from a small camp, four tunnels over. Lightly armed but fast. Expect scouts ahead of the main force, raiders for the first wave, and a Bandit Captain leading the charge. They're using the narrow tunnels to avoid detection."

Murtagh's mind raced through possibilities. "Vexar, form defensive positions. I want the shield wall reinforced and the archers spread across the battlements. Eira—get the civilians underground. No risks."

"Aye, Lord Murtagh," Vexar rumbled, already turning to issue orders.

Eira snapped her ledger shut. "The lower caverns are secure. I'll ensure no one's left above."

Another notification blinked before Murtagh's eyes.

Gold-Rated Totem Effect Activated:

+50% Construction Speed+30% Troop Morale During Defensive Raids

Good. We'll need it.

Murtagh immediately set the bonuses into motion. Within minutes, wooden spiked barricades were erected along the outer perimeter. Traps—caltrops, pit spikes, and oil traps—were hidden in the narrow tunnel choke points. Makeshift watchtowers sprouted from the stone, giving archers a clear view of the winding tunnels leading into the heart of the settlement.

Vexar lined the main gate with a tight phalanx—thirty shield-bearers in front, their metal plates gleaming under the torchlight, with twenty archers positioned in staggered rows behind. The narrowness of the cavern worked in their favor; the enemy couldn't swarm the gates without bottlenecking.

Murtagh's foresight surged—his mind's eye glimpsing a flicker of the future. The image was jagged, broken—bandits slipping through a narrow side tunnel, flanking the settlement.

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

"On it," Thalric replied, vanishing into the shadows with his men.

The timer in Murtagh's interface ticked down.

00:19:43…

Murtagh flexed his grip on the hilt of his sword.

They were close.

II. The Bandit Assault — Full Tactical Combat

The tension in the air was thick, suffocating. For a heartbeat, everything was still—no sound but the faint drip of water from the cavern ceiling.

Then the first war cry tore through the silence.

A guttural, blood-chilling roar echoed down the tunnels, followed by the thunder of countless boots striking stone. The ground vibrated beneath Murtagh's feet as the first wave of bandits surged out of the darkness, crude weapons gleaming in the torchlight. Their armor was patchwork—scraps of rusted iron and hardened leather—but they moved with brutal coordination, their rage sharpening their charge.

"Archers!" Murtagh roared, raising his sword. "Loose!"

Arrows rained down from the battlements. The twang of bowstrings rang out in unison as the fletched shafts cut through the air, their lethal descent striking the front ranks of the bandits. Bodies crumpled mid-charge, blood pooling across the stone, but the raiders didn't falter. They trampled their fallen comrades, claws and blades raised high.

They crashed into the shield wall with a bone-jarring impact.

The sound was deafening—metal striking metal, the splintering of wood as jagged axes hacked into shields. Spears jabbed from behind the defensive line, piercing through gaps in the bandits' armor, but still the raiders pushed forward.

"Brace!" Vexar bellowed, slamming his shoulder into the line as another wave hit.

The defenders held firm, boots skidding against stone as they fought to keep the wall intact. Bandits clawed and swung wildly, their bloodlust overriding reason, but the phalanx didn't break.

Murtagh's foresight pulsed again—this time sharper, clearer. He saw the exact moment a bandit scout would light an oil trap aimed at the rear defenses.

"Right flank—snipers, take him down!"

A sharp-eyed archer loosed an arrow. It struck the bandit's torch hand mid-raise, the flame sputtering out before it could ignite the trap.

Murtagh's heart pounded.

More raiders surged forward.

"Push them back!" he shouted.

The shield wall heaved forward in unison, spears thrusting, and bandits stumbled back, their line momentarily broken. Archers seized the opportunity, their arrows cutting down the exposed raiders.

But then the ground trembled again.

Emerging from the rear of the enemy line, the Bandit Captain strode forward.

He was a mountain of a man—nearly seven feet tall, iron-plated armor cladding his broad shoulders, each dent and scratch a testament to brutal survival. A deep scar ran diagonally across his face, just missing his clouded left eye. In his massive hands, he wielded an iron battle axe, its blade nicked and stained dark with old blood.

"Come forth!" the Captain bellowed, his voice echoing through the cavern.

With a roar, he charged—his axe cleaving through his own men as he cleared a path toward the gate.

Murtagh felt his foresight trigger again—flashes of the Captain breaking through the phalanx, slaughtering defenders, bringing the walls down.

No time.

Without hesitation, Murtagh vaulted over the battlements, landing hard on the stone below. Dust swirled as he sprinted forward, sword drawn.

The Bandit Captain swung first—a wild, overhead arc that would've cleaved a lesser man in half. Murtagh rolled beneath the swing, the axe's blade sparking against the stone behind him. He came up fast, slashing at the Captain's exposed side, the blade biting deep into the iron-plated armor.

The Captain grunted, spinning with surprising speed, the haft of his axe slamming into Murtagh's side and sending him sprawling.

Pain flared, but Murtagh rolled with it, coming to his feet just as the axe swung down again. Sparks erupted as their blades met, the clang echoing like a thunderclap.

Murtagh twisted his grip, forcing the Captain's axe wide before driving his sword deep into the brute's exposed thigh. Blood sprayed, but the Captain barely staggered.

With a roar, the bandit swung again—wild, desperate.

Murtagh ducked low and drove his sword up through the Captain's exposed chest. The brute froze, eyes wide, before collapsing backward in a thunderous crash.

A beat of silence passed.

Then, the remaining bandits broke ranks, fear overruling fury as they turned and fled into the dark.

"Archers! Don't let them escape!" Murtagh roared.

Arrows streaked after the retreating forms, cutting down the slowest of the survivors.

🏆 [Raid Complete: Victory Secured]

Loot Acquired: Bandit Captain's Axe300 GoldMap Fragment — Bandit Encampments Nearby

III. Aftermath — Strengthening the Hold

The acrid scent of blood and scorched wood hung heavy in the air. Smoke drifted from scattered fires as the battered streets of Morningstar Hold buzzed with activity once more. Civilians emerged from hiding, their wide eyes sweeping over the aftermath—the blood-streaked stone, the lifeless bandits piled high, and the shattered barricades. Some wept silently over lost loved ones. Others moved with grim purpose, helping clear debris and tend to the wounded.

Eira stood beside Murtagh, a scroll in hand. Her face was pale but resolute.

"We've tallied the loot," she reported. "It's enough to push us toward a Second Grade Village. And the bandit map—it shows nearby encampments. We can wipe them out before they regroup."

"Good," Murtagh replied. "Prepare a strike force. We take the fight to them."

Thalric added, his voice low, "Scouts found evidence of larger camps—fortified strongholds deeper in the tunnels. If we leave them, they'll grow into real threats."

Murtagh's jaw tensed. "Then we destroy them before they get the chance."

IV. Cliffhanger — The Threat Lurks Deeper

That evening, as the fires burned low and the wounded were tended to, Thalric approached Murtagh again—this time holding a fragment of parchment, its surface etched with faint, glowing runes.

"This map fragment—it doesn't just lead to bandit camps," Thalric said, voice grim. "There's something else."

He placed the map on the stone table, his finger tracing a path deeper into the labyrinth of tunnels.

"There's an old stronghold here—off the main network. It's heavily fortified, but… the scouts say the bandits there aren't normal. Their behavior's off. Too organized. Too controlled."

"AI interference?" Murtagh asked, a cold knot forming in his chest.

"Maybe," Thalric confirmed. "Or something worse."

Murtagh's hand clenched around the hilt of his sword.

"Then we find out what's down there—before it finds us."

He looked out at the darkened tunnel mouth stretching beyond the hold's walls—deep, vast, and filled with shadows.

And this time, we finish it.

To be continued in Chapter 6: Clearing the Bandit Camp