"So how do we proceed? If we come up against something impassable with the whole group, it may delay us greatly. Perhaps a few scouts to determine our path should precede the group? I would be willing to serve in that roll, if it would help."
Pausing for a moment to gather his thoughts, Lysander turns to the little gnome. "I was never in the military in Kyonin, I left there as an adolescent to attend the University of Lepidstadt. When I was there, I learned that alchemy is a delicate affair, and not easy to practice whilst distracted. I felt it better to eliminate the threats first, and then spend half a minute mixing delicate and highly volatile chemicals. Once it became clear that eliminating the threat first was not a viable option, I decided I'd have to risk the Ironfangs being distracted enough not to follow me. If next time you'd prefer I risk us all blowing up when I flinch because I took a crossbow bolt to the ribcage whilst mixing explosives, or that I get my brains returned to mother earth by some mace-wielding ruffian while I was distracted, then you'd best find another alchemist. I suppose you could have done a better job with your cobbler's tools?"
"Of course I couldn't," Bunko replies with a sniff. "And that's the damned point. Your Lepidstadt training meant your job was to play sapper, and the rest of us were to provide cover and harry the invaders. If you weren't sure about the plan, then next time bring it up before we commit to the skirmish, because if you don't, there might not be a next time."
"Yes, stop in the middle of ushering a couple dozen civilians off a battlefield to rehash a plan. I'm sure that would have gone well. Let's make sure that our plans are clear in the first place from here on out, shall we?"
Bunko's eyes narrow at Lysander's words. "I'm going to let your ignorance slide here, but only because you were a civilian up until tonight. Make no mistake, Lysander, this is a military action now. The hobs' presence changes everything. Either we start acting like a unit or lots of people die. Get your s**t together."
Lysander raises an eyebrow. "Do not presume to know more than you do, little one. I have not served in a regular military. But I have fought for this nation several times, dating to the times before it was called Nirmathas. Perhaps those guerilla units were simply better led than those you are used to. Leadership, in fact, is what it seems we need. We've been acting like a ship full of oarsmen without a coxswain. I know independence is precious to we Nirmathi, but you know as well as I" he pauses almost imperceptibly, "perhaps even better, that military units need clear chains of command."
"You know, I think Clidon and Farrow might be able to contribute to our long-term survival, but they are really angry about something. Can I ask what happened when you guys found them? I think I need something to work with."
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"They're just a bit pissy. Wanted to stay in town and be turned to slaves." Iteb is ready to head out, after the morning preparations are made. She will join the rest, in eating only half-rations to show solidarity with the rest-- mostly so there's no grumbling over it. The hunger affects her throughout the day, but it's better than being questioned for getting more food.
Aerel frowns but says nothing. That's not helpful information. Well, it's not really information. Maybe one of the others will explain in private. If I have to coax them to do anything every time we need their aid... this will be difficult.
The group picks out a few people to scout ahead - the half-elf Phersi, the elf Merishiel, and the human Harvel - and gives orders to start packing up to move. The half-rations produce a number of frowns, but the Nirmathi are a hardened people, and most accept the need without grumbling. (Clidon and Farrow are much louder about their grumbling than most.)
Aerel, Lysander, and Jeb suddenly look up, almost simultaneously, at the sounds of someone or something running rapidly through the brush - directly toward you and your camp.
"Someone's coming. Fast. Get ready!"
The archer grabs up his bow and, trying to determine the direction of the approaching runner, steps partially behind a tree as he fits an arrow into place.
Lysander grabs his bow and nocks an arrow, aiming in the general direction of the sudden sound.
A bedraggled human man - wounded, dirty, and panicking - appears from the brush and sprints toward you; or rather, away from whatever might be behind him, though you can't see or hear any kind of pursuit. He is looking over his shoulder as he runs at first does not seem to see any of you.
He is medium height and tanned, not unhandsome if you are into such things, with dark hair pulled back into a simple bun and a five o'clock shadow darkening his cheeks. Deep bags under his eyes suggest he's not slept, possibly all night, and his clothes are ripped and smeared with both dirt and blood.
Aerel draws back his bow, readying an action to fire at whatever is on his heels, fully expecting a hobgoblin trooper.
"Someone tackle him before he hurts himself."
Aerel's words cause the man to draw up short, startled - shocked, really - and whip his gaze back around to the front. Seeing you all, he gives out a potent and high-pitched "Aaaaaah!"
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"Calm down and quit runnin'!" Iteb commands, trying to stop him from continuing in a panic at Aerel's request. She wasn't aware of anything until the man came barreling out of the woods, so she is acting mostly on instinct. She'll attempt to grab him on his way by if he continues running, but won't be aggressive with the man if he calms down.
"Are you injured? What are you running from?"
He doesn't look at the man as his eyes continue to scan the man's backtrail for any sign of a threat.
Iteb's grab is too slow to catch the fleeing man, who seem to dodge her more from instinct than intent. Aerel sees and hear nothing behind him.
In a few more steps, the man is likely to be beyond you and amid the camp.
Looking at Lysander, Aerel suggests, "Maybe we can track his backtrail. I'm concerned about something following him and blundering into the camp. Either we follow it back to see what we face or we hurry up and leave now."
There are shouts and cries from the camp as the man sprints almost-blindly through it and on into the forest. After a few moments, the silence of the great forest returns... and for several long minutes, you wait to find out what drove the man with such terror.
Nothing happens.
Lysander shrugs, but nods. "May as well. Better to stay well-informed about any potential htreats in the area."
Aerel looks at the half-orc weaponsmith, "If we don't find what gave him to such a terror, we probably want to be moving lest it find us. Lysander and I will take some time to backtrack him. We should be able to move quickly and catch you on the trail."
"What do you think?"
While Iteb, Jeb, and Bunko begin leading the refugees east, Lysander and Aerel begin tracking the panicked human's trail through the woods. Fortunately, the ground is still wet from the rains two days ago, and Aerel has no difficulty whatsoever tracking the man.
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After a couple hours' travel, Iteb, Bunko, and Jeb find themselves approaching a small stream. No more than a few steps wide, it looks muddy and unappetizing - but the massive bull aurochs drinking from it about twenty yards away seems okay with it.
With little else to learn, you turn and begin making your way back the way you came, moving more quickly than your tracking speed before. You are perhaps half an hour behind the refugee group
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Iteb looks to both Bunko and Jeb, not expecting to make all decisions unilaterally. "We stay here, wait for large bulls to move on or move around them, or... we wait for other two and try to get more food?" Her own interest in getting more food become more clear only after she got that thought. Her initial inclinations being to everyone's safety in avoiding combat. "How strong?" she asked, if anyone else here new the general power the bulls possessed.
Bunko's eyes widen as he spies the massive beast. "Strong enough that I'd rather not mess with it if we can avoid it," he says in hushed tones. "Although I may be able to talk with it if it notices us. That's no guarantee it still won't charge us, but it's a shot."
"Just to add another wrinkle - there's an awful lot of meat on the bull, and we have mouths to feed. We could loose arrows at it, see if we can bring it down quickly."
Do we have any idea how long he was running? Two hours tracking would cover less ground than two hours running, yes? Was he running the entire time?
"Seems simple enough. Let's head back to the others, and hope they haven't gotten lost without us." Lysander says to the other elf.
Nodding, "Seems he's just like us, but his timing wasn't as fortunate. And his terror has not abated."
At the sound of the voices, he ducks down and scans the forest, readying his bow.
"If they spot us, we run that way. Good?"
Lysander nods silently and ducks into the bush.
Aerel follows a weak jump with a graceless leap and finds himself still on the side of the log occupied by the ogres. This was not the plan!
Aerel attempts to cross the ravine, hopping from stone to stone and keeping his momentum as much as possible.
When he loses his footing and slides to the bottom, he finds himself desperately scrambling up the far side as he watches the more nimble Lysander make the top and disappear over the edge. Despair and old memories threaten to overwhelm him as he tries to dig into the soil and find handholds.