“The Bandit King is a mythical figure in history responsible for influencing wars and countless revolutions. To date, there have been a dozen people who have successfully taken up the mantle of Bandit King without being assassinated, each one more influential than the last. Hundreds would try and fail to claim the title, so it is often advised to steer clear of such individuals claiming to be so.”

  -Head guard of Buddingtown

  Lodur

  His head hurt. They just plummeted from the sky and landed on the ground. He opened his eyes and began searching through the darkness, hands still covered by the rat glove. He was pleased to find out that his curse would let him touch anything that is already a corpse, either bisected, warped, removed of all meat, or just bones, which made it safe for him to poke and prod the surroundings and listen if there is a distinct Rob-like or Beelza-like sound.

  He began poking his rat glove around and found out that he was actually covered in a tarp. He poked and felt a soft skinny figure and poked it a second time.

  “Ow!” Said a voice that didn’t sound like Rob or Beelza, so he poked a third time.

  “Ow, will you stop poking me! Goons formation!” The voice said.

  As if stirred by the command, several arms came and picked up the tarp to reveal the wreckage below. It was a chaotic mess of dresses, shoes, makeup, mirrors, and a ball of people. And in the center of that ball was a man who wore a lot of makeup, things that the old ladies in the village use when they spit on him. He wore a leather garb with straps and studs that make them look intimidating, along with pump-up shoes to make them look taller.

  He was face to face with said man, who honestly looked less intimidating up close.

  He turned his head and saw Rob lying in a pile of people, while Beelza was lying in a huge pile of black dresses. Both of which were stirring awake and relatively unharmed, despite falling from the sky.

  “My makeu- I mean face paint!” The skinny man ran to a pile of destroyed makeup boxes and cradled it’s desiccated remains in his fingers. Then he actually formed tears in his eyes in grief, before quickly turning to anger.

  “You!” He pointed at Lodur and his friends. “You people are monsters!” He was crying to the point of leaving black streaks of makeup in his face.

  “You think you can just fall in the sky and break a persons makeu- I mean warpaint box? Well tough luck getting out. Goons Assemble!” He said while still sobbing.

  Several lines of marching men and women came from nowhere carrying shovels and rope, and formed perfect formations before saluting.

  “Goons throw these monsters in the dungeon!” He cried, attempting to bring the remains of the makeup box closer to him in sorrow.

  Two men held him up and tied his arms, before getting escorted out of the crime scene. His two friends were also treated the same way. “Wait stop!”

  “Hey let me go! Gaaah!” Rob was currently being carried by wrapped in cloth, fully immobilizing him. “Get away from mpfff-” He was gagged by a piece of cloth and carried like a caterpillar

  “HISSSS!” Beelza was hissing on all fours like a cornered feline. She clawed with her nails and even bit a person with her mouth. She hissed at them as they approached her kill zone.

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  “Ow she just bit me!” One of them said, before he fell turning green and foaming in the mouth.

  “We got a poisonous one here, bring in the pole.”

  One of the men threw a net above her and another one came and used an animal control pole, a pole with a hoop in the end. She struggled and thrashed until multiple poles were on her, restraining her limbs.

  “GRROWWLLL!!” She made an inhuman sound as she was corraled into a cage. She poisoned two other people before getting bound in straps and a muzzle.

  The skinny man wailed as he smashed his fists on the ground.

  “You monsters, do you know how hard I had to work to find a shade that could work with my skin tone. All of them to the dungeon now!”

  Knives Daggershade

  Knives was a fair man. He might be a bandit, but he wanted to think that he was more of an equalizing force in the world. Afterall, he was too beautiful to be anything less than a force of nature. He wanted to think of himself as more of a main character in a book really, or one from a really good stage play.

  He grew up with stories of the Bandit King, a debonair figure of might and beauty. One who used his silver tongue and superior sword skills to rule the underworld and change society in his image. This was pretty much the reason why he thought he was destined to be the legendary figure of his generation.

  He managed to recruit a bunch of to be undyingly loyal goons that serve as his eyes and ears in pursuit for his dream of being the Bandit king. But now three teens just screwed his makeup box, the one thing that allowed him to strike fear into the hearts of his enemies.

  He was currently infront of the mirror being dolled up by his closest goons, number 1 and number 2. They were fixing up his blonde hair into a fluffy, intimidating hairdoo. He wore a black robe with several belts on his waist. Lastly, because he was now without any makeup, he wore a porcelain mask that hid half of his face, the one that wore no foundation or eyeliner.

  “Do you think they’ll be intimidated by fear with this?” He turned to look at every angle by the mirror.

  “Of course they will sir, you look very intimidating right now.” Number 2 said while brushing his hair.

  “Are you sure? I feel like I’m missing a bit of oomph.”

  “You look perfectly fine sir, very dashing too might I add. Now please suck in some air for a moment.” Number 1 said as he pulled on the spiked leather corset on him.

  After the corset tightened, he finally felt ready to deal with his three new prisoners.

  “Number 1 carry me to the dungeon. Number 2 bake me a treat after this, preferably something sweet.”

  “Yes sir!” They said in unison.

  “Would you like oatmeal and raisin cookies and milk for later sir?” Number 2 asked.

  “Yuck raisins, Number 2 you know I don’t like those icky stuff. I want honeypies instead.”

  “Sir, might I remind you that too much sugar would rot your teeth? Also raisins are perfectly edible and are healthy for you.” Number 2 berated him.

  “But..but...Number 1, tell him that he’s wrong.” He made begged his goon.

  “Sir, I think you should listen to 2, he knows a bit more about health and stuff, afterall he does know his way around them.” Number 1 said as he betrayed him.

  “Okay...” He said as he sulked to the direction of the dungeon.

  He took a breath before opening the doors. He looked forward to seeing the three teens answer to their vile crimes of private property destruction.

  Rob

  Rob was currently bored to death. The three of them were currently being fed soup by an elderly woman named ‘Goon Number 8’. She blew on a spoonful of hot soup and put it infront of him.

  “Alright dearie just a bit more.” Rob slurped the soup with a frown. “Now now dearie it won’t do if you frown all day.”

  “Yeah Rob, why don’t you smile a little.” Lodur said as he was completely untied and was playing with a sandpit with other kids. He was wearing a new set of corpse gloves as the other one started to smell. He was currently using one made of dead rabbits, which made him popular with kids.

  “Grrrr!” Beelza just growled at the spoon full of soup being infront of her. The old woman just reached in and opened the girl’s mouth and shoved the soup in. Beelza just licked her lips like a pacified canine.

  A young kid named ‘Goon number 32’ was poking Rob using a stick.

  “Will you stop that!” Rob yelled, annoyed at the kid.

  “Boss is coming!” One of the bandits came to alert the others.

  The old woman smiled and stood up from her stool. “Looks like you’ll be meeting our boss hmm? Don’t be too scared alright, he’s a big softie.”

  She went back to sewing a bag outside of the cage they were confined in, like the soup feeding never even happened.

  Smoke suddenly came out from under the door, along with a drum beat.

  A door opened up to reveal a thin man with floofy hair and a porcelain mask. He wore lots of straps and a corset that seemed to be impeding blood flow. He wore a set of pump-up shoes that made him look taller than he actually was.

  He was accompanied by an old man who wore weird robes and a pointy hat. The old man emanated a power that sent a chill down his spine.

  Beelza felt this and wearily backed of to a corner of the wall. “Guys.....that old man is dangerous.” She whispered to Rob and Lodur. Both of the boys heard this and also felt a weight press on the air.

  “Goons assemble!” The one with the mask said.

  Several bandits came out of nowhere and marched inside the room. With trained effort they formed a throne composed of people doing weird poses that fit them like a puzzle. The masked man sat in the people throne and did a pose.

  “I am here to judge you for your crimes, of which you’ve committed a grave one, specifically to me!”

  He took out a comically overdesigned rapier out of his waist and raised it.

  “I am Knives Daggershade, head of the Swallowdive bandit troupe. I am the silver blade, the head of the shining darkness, and the phantom of the night. AND I SHALL BE THE NEXT BANDIT KING!!”

  Some of the bandits clapped and cheered at the guy. Rob felt second hand embarrassment.

  “You Go boss!” “That’s our boss!” “All hail our future bandit king!” The others cheered.

  “So cool!” Lodur said as he giggled. Rob frowned even deeper and stared at the masked individual.

  Who the fuck is this wacko?