Post Apocalyptic Romance Part 2 (quiz)

This is the second part to my first quiz, or "interactive story." Refer to the first one (Post Apocalyptic Romance (quiz)) if you haven't taken it yet.

The point of this quiz, the actual story bit, is to introduce you to some of the other characters and the next bit of the plot. The first was to get you used to you.

Created by: Ailidh
  1. What is your age?
  2. What is your gender?
  1. Recap: You've just called out to the enemies in the bushes. You're not going to confront, but simply waiting for their reaction.
  2. The rosy light is fading, and it's growing darker. The forest is beginning to turn to gray, the sky reaching a more violet hue. They probably suspect your vision worsens as it grows darker. Are you more vulnerable in the dark?
  3. You're suspecting movement, but they remain hidden. You estimate there's about seven of them, so escape is no more of a viable option now than earlier. "Come out when you like. I'll be waiting." You say as you pull out your flute again. You're about to press it to your lips to play another spell, when you hear a gruff voice call out, "That's enough, now. Not 'gain. Won't be having us cov'rd in more rashes." You don't set it down. "If you make any move to hurt me, you'll be covered in much more than rashes." You reply, flute still close to your mouth. Murmuring fills the surrounding forest. There seems to be a whispered argument, and it's in a foreign language. Judging by the form of their words and the gruff speaker's accent, they were from the north. Vicious fighters came from there. Your thoughts?
  4. "I'm waiting," you repeat. Your fingers dance across the flute impatiently, indicating that you're still willing to curse them. "Alright, alright!" A female voice calls out. A command in the Northern tongue is shouted out, and the cloaked assailants reveal themselves. Three jump from trees, three more from the bushes, and another from your right. "Well?" You ask. You hear a collective laugh. The woman speaks up. "You Southerners have no patience. We, we have patience. We travel several hundred miles to see you, no? We could have waited longer to strike. You choose." She laughs. She has a different accent than the gruff voiced man. "None of you are equipped to fight me from here. I'm guessing you, ma'am, are from Kartak, yes? You must have sold most of your close fighting weapons to gamble in the nearby towns. I have the upper hand." You say. The woman's left hand twitches. "We have more in the trees." She whispers. "False. I've scanned the area. You're bluffing." You reply. "Fine. I suppose you were worth the long journey." She replies.
  5. "Luka?" The woman asks. The gruff voiced man responds. "Yes?" He asks. "Do we carry out de job?" The woman replies. Luka calls out to the others in the other language. Various responses are heard. The woman crosses her arms and walks over to the group, and jabs one in the shoulder. She hastily hisses a few words at him, and shoves him. "You talk well. Explain to her." You stand up, one hand on your dagger, the other on the flute. The figure approaches, and he holds his hands in the air. "I won't touch my weapons if you don't handle yours," he says, and pulls his hood down. You warily do the same.
  6. He sat down on the opposite side of the fire. The firelight lit up his face. He was obviously local. He lacked the voice qualities and pale skin tone of the northerners, and was more bulky. You briefly wondered where he learned their language. "Sorry to intrude," he says as he lays his weapons on the ground. You do not follow. "What do you want?" You ask. He shrugs calmly, and scratches his neck. "That spell really irritates." He replies, avoiding your question with a blasé expression. "That's the point." You reply. He laughs, which aggravates you. "There are six armed warriors behind us prepared to kill me. Stop laughing." You say stiffly. He huffs once more. "You, Miss ____, if anyone, are the one to shut up. Those six warriors won't touch me," he says arrogantly. "I wouldn't be so sure about that!" The woman shouts. "Ignore Camilla. She's Luka's wife, but obviously thinks she's in charge." The man across from you mumbles. You don't say anything, but you're thinking:
  7. "In case you're not smart enough to have figured it out, they're here to kill you." He says. You nod. "But I know you're smart. So do they. No one's too willing to hurt you. We don't like wasting." He continues. You frown. "Come on. We haven't even been paid yet, so it's up to us what we do." He says. You see his green eyes flicker as he laughs once more. "What does that mean?" You ask. "Well, our compromise, if you will, is that you join our little band of thieves and killers," he replies. "Or?" You ask. He smirks. "Or we get to kill you." What do you choose.
  8. "I'll give you a few minutes. I'll go chat with my northern friends for a bit, okay?" He gets up, and turns to you. "The name's Ryn, by the way." He pulls the cloak back over his shaggy brown hair, his features concealed once more.
  9. You close your eyes. Death, or living every day with your fear of people? A quick, painful step into the unknown, or living every day fearing the doom of your companions?
  10. Despite your answer, you realize you have one choice. You stand up, and walk over to the group, who has patiently remained in the same spot. "Ryn said you'd let me join your little group," you say to Luka and Camilla. They nod. You furrow your brow, considering your options one last time. "What do I have to do?" You ask. Luka's gapped teeth are the only thing visible from under the cloak. He's smirking. "You listen. You learn. You kill. You survive." He says, his gravelly voice hurting your ears. He and Camilla turn away. "Camp is west twenty minutes. Pack, and we see you there." Camilla looks over her shoulder. "Ryn, Otter, Ian, help the girl. Make sure she won't run."
  11. The rest if the group disperse like shadows. You feel slightly nervous. What if they kill you anyway? Who will supply for the families? You shudder. One of the cloaked men with you pulls off his hood. "Calm down. A deal is a deal." He says. The distorted, night forest light colors his hair silver, but you assume it's closer to a chestnut color in the day. "I'm Otter." He says, and nudges the person next to him. "That's Ian. He's not much of a talker." Otter pulls Ian's hood down roughly. "Don't frighten her." Ian shrugs. The moonlight has shaded his hair an iridescent blue, meaning its closer to a raven black in the day. Your impressions?
  12. Ian stomps the fire out, while Ryn tosses you your scrawny rabbit. "Eat you catch," he says, and picks up his weapons that he left there. Otter helps you gather your belongings, and you all try to make it look like no one had ever been there. You then proceed to the camp, where you'll find a new life.

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