An hour of reconnaissance had passed, using various spells and tools to study what she could of her foes. The dimensional gate was going to be temporarily sealed in another hour. Though it was more complex, this place was no different than any other bandit camp or pirate bay. There was order maintained by violence, violence directed by malice, and malice curtailed by fear. It was a complicated and delicate system, prone to falling apart at the slightest unseen breeze.

Ah, alas, this lot didn’t know what any of those things were. Not truly. They didn’t choose fights, they chose victims. So how ill-prepared they were when the deck was not stacked in their favor. How ill-prepared to handle an opposing system that followed the same principles as their own.

The severity of violence that was about to visit upon them was greater than any they had known before. Violence led by the malice and desperation of a mother with the power to protect their young and next to no standard on where that violence would end, a force far more fearsome than greed. One that could not be sated by money or goods. And it was far, far too late for fear to matter.

Not one of them would ever leave this place again.

Ensuring there were no interruptions, T’Kere used the lingering stealth magic to make her way back outside the dungeon. The fortifications were pretty standard fare for a well-established settlement anticipating violence. A few watchtowers, albeit well disguised as trees near the edge of the small camp.

One of the weaknesses of such towers, though, is that the guards therein had a habit of only looking outside. They never saw it coming when her punch dagger pierced the base of their skull, severing their spine right where it met the brain. To ensure no noise was made, she crushed their windpipe before the air could ever reach the voicebox. The only noise was the bloody squelching of her fingers leaving their throat. The combination of traumas dropped them almost instantly. A wave of her hand and the blood was gone, both inside and outside the corpse. Instant desiccation.

The same routine was repeated on all four towers, leaving only ten or so bandits present.

The real problem with camping in a dungeon is that no cry for help or notification of security failure could be heard from inside the dungeon. Sound did not travel through dungeon portals. A simple magic pit trap designed to close forcefully upon something filling it, with a concealing illusion was enough to cover that possibility.

The trouble was the of the other ten. Unlike the door watchman and lookouts in the towers, these were the ones anticipating violence, so they kept their shrouds well stocked with energy and ready to go at all times.

They were no slouches, either. It seemed clear that this camp understood the importance of leaving some of your best for protection details. It would take a fair amount of force to break through the physical force buffer, not to mention a couple of them seemed to have actually customized their shrouds too; a few with strong protections against varying ability types, and several had a effect. She could certainly punch through both without being disarmed, but the problem was doing it quietly.

This lot wouldn’t be getting their spines punched, that’s for sure. No, this would have to be much more deliberate. The main problem with that was the simple fact that once she kicked on the real ultra-violence, she’d be hard-pressed to stop. It wasn’t time for that yet. Gods, she missed adventuring.

Instead, she reached down to where her sling hung on her hip. It was already loaded with a crystal bullet. It was a bit more delicate than the steel bullets she often used for hunting, but it was well suited to soaking up energy like the kind commonly used in shrouds, and more than strong enough to crack bone through anything short of metal armor.

Preparing several more magic pits, T’Kere stood in the ring of death and began to whirl her sling.

Ah, she was approaching the edges of her patience. She could only handle so much teasing of violence before she desperately wanted to let loose, and the limit was in sight. She would have to make this quick. Best to make this shot count. She could do this in… three bullets.

But at the very least, she could abandon subtlety. No longer suppressing visible responses to her magic, a wavering of air like a heat mirage blew off of her person. The nearest bandit turned in confusion as she started a quiet chant, activating the latent enchantments on the bullet. It would follow her next target after hitting, using the energy absorbed from the first victim to accelerate once again.

And… release. As the brigand let out a cry of protest to her presence and clear lethal intent, the bullet crossed the space at extremely high speeds. Unfortunately for them, T’Kere was an accomplished slinger, requiring a sling made of manticore leather so as to not tear it into pieces with every use. Even then, it needed self-repairing magic. This power became clear when the crystal sheen of the bandit’s shroud was activated and broken in nearly the same moment.

His head popped. It really was the only word to describe it. It was as if one fired a concussion blast into a melon from point-blank range. What was once eyes, and hair, and ears, became… a mess. T’Kere shuddered as she was already swinging up the second crystal bullet. She could feel the unsettling grin on her face already; her former unit of warriors feared her for more than just her prowess and temper. Mar’Kir had a particular term for her, a type of fighter that seldom lived long enough to acquire much skill.

Berserker. One who found bloodshed as intoxicating as any drug or drink.

The crystal bullet left the concave space that once was a skull, blasting off as fast as before to the next target. It punched right through the next bandit’s neck as they turned around. The shroud meant to stop it only fueled its rampage, gave it the power needed to turn again and make another large hole in the throat of the first one that began to move against her. They tried to raise their shield, but they had barely even drawn it before it was too late.

The crystal was starting to crack and splinter, the impacts of skull and vertebrae becoming too much for its weaker frame. Moreover, the energy it stored began to rattle its damaged frame apart. As the next bullet left her weapon, the last one punched through the gambison and hardened leather armor of the center member in a group of three. The largest of those present, it seemed. Usually a leader for these types.

Inside of the collapsed rib cage, the damage became too much, and the stone blew apart like a small bomb. Crystal mixed with bone and viscera as it flew outwards, lightly piercing the flesh of his comrades. Far more damaging than the wounds was the horror in their eyes.

They had little time to be shocked. In her mounting excitement, she had settled to target center mass. The first target had their chest laid bare as their sternum became chips. The next target suffered the same fate. The harder targets, however, destabilized the bullet faster than the first. It blew the next bandit it touched into pieces like the first.

Unfortunately, it seems one of them wasn’t quite traumatized enough. They were putting a horn to their lips, no doubt one that triggered an alarm inside the dungeon too. In her impatience, she hadn’t noticed it.

No time to swing up her sling. Tragic.