Smack the reprobate with your shiny new broadsword.

From Technomancer

With but one swift blow you lay the shop keeper out like a side of beef. The sword, and the victory, are yours! You breathe in the sweet smell of success and prepare for further conquests.

Redolent with victory, you fail to notice the 137 other residents of the village sneaking up on you.

A sharp blow brings blackness to your vision, a rather splitting headache to your cranium, and the swift cessation of consciousness.

You awake to the smell of roatsing meat, only to discover that your hands are tied behind your back, and apparently (also) behind a large pole that holds you upright above a pile of burning sticks. The townspeople are throwing you barbeque supplies (rotten tomoatoes, heads of cabbage and potatoes) but you doubt that this will be a barbeque you'll enjoy. (start again)