Part 2 of the Opening Scene of Allure of the Gypsies:
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“Halfling fiend! Call off your monsters!” demands the gypsy.
The halfling eyes the gypsy as one would look at a yelping puppy. “Who might you be, boy?”
Kayn grits his teeth and stares proudly at his enemy. “I am the champion of this clan. We have done nothing to you. I demand that you leave us alone.”
“Well now, the champion stands before me,” the halfling says, amused by the youth. “Honor forces me to introduce myself to my opponent. I am General Vile and I am afraid I cannot leave.”
“Then, I will have to kill you,” Kayn growls.
Vile lets his grin fade into a stern expression. “Correction. You will have to try to kill me. I am an old and seasoned halfling, boy. A whelp of a gypsy like you could not handle my abilities.”
“You will have to kill me to get to the rest of the clan,” the young gypsy announces. He dashes at the halfling with amazing speed, but a metallic blur blocks the slash of his cutlass. Kayn steps back to see that the halfling’s shortsword is still sheathed at his side, the only sign of the enemy’s movement is a footprint of matted grass.
“Care to try again? I will go slower this time,” promises the halfling.
Kayn juggles his sword from one hand to the other. “You mock me.”
“I merely want to extend my entertainment. I get very few challenges at my age,” Vile admits with a sigh. “Now, please attack me again. Try to make your moves faster and less predictable.”
Kayn quickly slashes at Vile’s stomach, but an armored gauntlet effortlessly deflects the cutlass with an echoing ping. The gypsy uses every maneuver he can imagine against the halfling, but all of his attacks are blocked. The wind changes and he can hear the dying screams from the camp while the halfling continues to toy with him. The wails from his people help to fuel Kayn’s rage as he attempts a final attack on Vile. Kayn presses the dull edge of his cutlass against his forearm. The gypsy roars before he makes a running slash at his opponent with as much strength as he can muster. Flicking his wrist at the last second, Kayn flips the curved edge of the cutlass toward Vile’s throat.
“Impressive,” states the halfling, ducking under the attack and rolling between Kayn’s legs. The gypsy drops his weapon in defeat when he feels the tip of Vile’s shortsword against his back.
“Go ahead and kill me. I have failed to protect my clan,” Kayn announces, his tired arms hanging at his side.
“You fought better than I had expected. Be thankful that you die with honor,” Vile says with a soft voice. A searing pain in the halfling’s shoulder stops him from executing the gypsy. Vile and Kayn turn to see a gypsy girl with flowing, dark blue hair standing at the edge of the clearing. Breathing heavy and looking scared, she stands ready to throw another knife at Vile.
“Sari! Run!” Kayn screams as he tackles the soldier. An armored fist knocks the young man to the ground. A shuddering breath is the only sign that Kayn is still alive as a bleeding bump grows on his forehead.
“Very stupid, boy,” grunts the halfling. “You may have saved that girl, but you should have been more concerned with your own hide.” He lifts his sword to stab Kayn in the head when a delicate, icy hand grips his wrist.
Legends of Windemere 